#just talking to him was the highlight of his month and now hes hanging out with him irl in new york

[businessbois]

1:01:42 TommyInnit meets jschlatt for the first time.

Wilbur: “You know, from the day I met you, you know you— you remember how on the first day we met, you told me how much you loved the Wilbur and Schlatt content and how— you know…”

Tommy: “Yeah?”

Wilbur: “And y—y— And since then, every time, every time you talk to me about the funniest people you met, you always say Schlatt.”

Tommy: “True. Yeah.”

Wilbur: “And that’s— That’s not— I don’t think that’s embarrassing, I think that’s just, you know, that’s good. I like that you have a—

I’d say, you know, uh, there’s a lot of contention derived nowadays in, like, online media and YouTube and stuff that like— You know, It’s just YouTube, isn’t it? It’s just YouTube as a lot of people seem to think. But I think— I think— I think, you know, kids are getting a lot of their heroes from YouTube. And I— I— I don’t know if this is true, but from what I’ve gathered from you, Schlatt is pretty much the closest thing to your hero in terms of YouTube.

And, like, as much as people think that this is some kind of—that this whole event today has been some sort of weird, awkward, like, SMPLive taking away feom the Dream Team server, it really hasn’t been. It really hasn’t been. This was all for you, Tommy, to be honest, wasn’t it? This was— This was to— This is the highlight of your month, probably.”

[Tommy shakes his head in agreement]

[envy-of-the-apple]

Exception

Dark!Geto Suguru x reader

5.8k wc

Synopsis: You never bothered with Suguru's crush on you, knowing it would fade. After meeting him again years later, you make the horrible discovery that his feelings for you have only festered.

(Warnings: yandere, dark content, murder of a side character, slight gore, violence, rape/noncon, vaginal fingering, piv sex, unsafe sex)

When you were in your first year of college, you got a part-time job at a nearby cafe. 

It was easy work. Make coffee. Bake some pastries. Attend to the customers. Nothing too unmanageable. It was an insignificant part of your life. 

Then, Gojo and Geto came along.

 

Insufferably annoying. Especially, the loud one. They always caused a havoc in the cafe, often to the point where the manager had to physically kick them out. It was a turbulent two weeks, until one day you promised them if they kept it down, you'd let them try a few of your experimental pastries. 

Really, it was your own damn fault. They started coming every day after that, mostly to bother you. The only reason management hadn't outright banned them was probably because Gojo made 50% of their entire revenue. 

You warmed up to them eventually. Your fake smiles turned into more amused ones because of their antics. Once or twice, they'd get a good laugh out of you. You've heard rumors of a private, religious highschool nearby. You always assumed they were a byproduct of that. 

Eventually, Gojo becomes Satoru. Geto becomes Suguru. Nice kids, if not a bit overzealous. Despite refusing to hang out with them after work, you had to admit, you grew a bit attached to them. You found yourself asking about their day, hiding sweets for the two of them, sometimes you'd even let them steal a croissant or two. 

You bet the reason they hung around you was because, to them, you were some cool college student. Secretly, you found it a little flattering. Some days, their friendship was the highlight of your shift. It's clear Satoru is always the instigator, always looking like he's about to bounce off the walls (you have told him to lay off the sugar), it's not like Suguru was any better. He tried to act like he was the more refined part of the friendship. He often fails, at least in your eyes. 

It becomes pretty apparent that Suguru had a crush on you. You're not sure when exactly you started to notice the bashful looks, the slight flush on his cheeks whenever you accidentally brush his hand, the fact that he visits far more often (even though Satoru has the sweet-tooth) but you can't unsee it now. It doesn't help that Satoru looks downright giddy whenever his friend talks to you, barely controlling his giggles in the background. His reaction and Suguru's irritation often start a few skirmishes right outside the cafe doors. You've told them multiple times to take their fights in the alley at least. They never listened. 

For his sake, you don't acknowledge it, already knowing what it is. A schoolyard crush. Harmless, it'll pass. Eventually, when you're a distant memory to them, Satoru will tease him about it and Suguru will give a playful elbow nudge. Much to your relief, Suguru doesn't pull you to the side and confess. He's refined, in that way, never giving too much until you have the evidence and clues yourself. 

It continued like that for months. And then, something changed. 

They stopped coming around as much. Daily visits turned weekly. Weekly turned to every so often. Their energy felt off too. Satoru seemed the same as always, if not a bit more mellowed out. It was Suguru you mainly worried for. Each time he returned, he looked worse and worse. Darker circles. Eyes filled with exhaustion. 

You pull him aside eventually, asking if anything is going on, asking if he's okay, asking if he wants to talk. As sincerely as you can, you tell him that you're here for him. He at least attempts to smile at that. When you press, he shakes his head. 

"It's nothing," you both know he's lying, "it's just....it's nice to see that there is one exception." 

A little while after that, they stop coming entirely. You notice, but you aren't able to focus on it. School gets harder, you're cutting back your work to focus on it. You don't even recognize Satoru at first when he walks in nearly a year later. 

He's different. So much taller. Despite being a few years younger than you...he doesn't feel like a kid anymore. An easygoing smile is pulled on his face when he sees you, giving a lazy wave. You return it, though a bit hesitant. He talks to you as though no time has passed at all, asking what you made for him this time. He talks fast. His voice is too laid back. Too casual. Like he's avoiding something. You think you know what. 

"Where's Suguru?" you ask when you glance behind Satoru for the third time, "I haven't seen him around lately." 

He freezes, like he's been dreading that question ever since he came in. Finally, he shrugs, making a noncommital hum. His sunglasses obscure his eyes but it isn't enough to hide how cold he suddenly turned. Satoru seems to realize that too. His answer is pulled by reluctance. 

"We don't talk anymore." He doesn't say anything more. You don't need him to.

When he pulls out his wallet, you tell him it's on the house. He looks at you then. His mouth opens, searching for the right words. He waits too long. His mask slips back into place. 

Gojo grins at you, painfully fake. 

"Take care of yourself, will ya?" 

You never see him again after that. You know it's your fault. 

You think about them every so often when you can, Suguru especially. He rests in the back of your mind like an old piece of furniture you can't bring yourself to throw out. Suguru sometimes haunts your dreams with his darkened eyes and the pure brokenness on his face. For some reason, you think you failed him somehow. You felt like you could have done more. Maybe, if you'd tried harder to reach out, things would have been different. Two boys wouldn't be utterly heartbroken. 

Years pass by. You quit working at the cafe. You graduate college. You move cities. You get a job. Eventually, you settle into a nice apartment. You forget all about your days in that quaint little restaurant, your attention hogged by a couple of annoying high schoolers. You don't think about Satoru for years. You don't think about Suguru for years. 

Until one day, when he calls your name in the street. 

He was bigger now, towering over you with broad shoulders. His hair was longer, darker too, less of a green, more black. He's ditched his school uniform, trading it for a more casual outfit. It's his face that makes you hesitate before you use your voice, that same smile, physically at least. He looks the same, but then he doesn't. 

"...Suguru?" It's a question because you're still not sure. 

He smiles wider. 

"Long time, huh?" 

Somehow, your reunion culminates in a restaurant. You still feel out of it, somehow, like you're watching yourself in an out-of-body experience. Between the food and him, you're not sure if you can even believe it. 

He tells you he heads a temple now. A pious man. You shouldn't be surprised, considering his education, but you never knew he was so invested in religion. The two of you converse about other meaningless things. The conversation becomes less stilted. More sincere. You learned your lesson from last time. You don't bring up Satoru unless he does. 

Much to your disappointment, he doesn't. 

Compared to yours, his life is so crazy. Not just with the temple. Suguru tells you he's a father now too. Adopted two little girls. He's barely 22. You can barely hold your disbelief, shaking your head as you take another sip of your coffee. 

"In any case," you say when the conversation draws to a lull, "I'm just really glad you're happy, Suguru. You deserve it." 

When Suguru gives you a questioning look, you continue. 

"The last time we saw each other, you looked miserable." 

 His eyes widen in realization before a laugh bubbles out of his throat. Deep, rich like chocolate. 

"Back then, I was going through a lot." He sighs. "I was figuring out what I wanted. It...it was a tough time for me." 

You nod along, hoping you aren't forcing him to pry. However, the Suguru you're faced with now doesn't seem like that type of person anymore. He won't give if you press. He talks on his own terms. You never once thought of him as a pushover, but he's less open now. Perhaps it's because he's no longer a child. 

Suguru smiles then, a little more sincere than his first. 

"You know...I've always wanted to thank you." 

You tilt your head. "What for?" 

He plays with his empty cup like he's searching for the answer himself. "You gave me hope when no one else did. Everyone was so quick to tell me if I was wrong or right."

He leans back on his chair, eyes drifting towards the ceiling, "Other humans, they're always so enraptured by their own lives. You were the only person who reached out. At least, who cared enough to." 

The guilt from years ago slipped back into your throat. So he had been suffering. You should have done more. He was just a kid. They both had been. You could have done something. Maybe you could have saved a little more.

His hand finds yours on the table. They're rough, calloused. You can feel the scars. He squeezes your fingers. 

"Thank you," he murmurs, "For being an exception." 

You squeeze back. 

It's a tumultuous friendship, at first. It's much like a burn. Sensitive, it hurts at first. The wound is too fresh. Eventually, dead skin and memories fade away. You find yourself texting him. Once a week. Maybe a little more, if you get brave enough. 

Once, he sends you a picture of a white cat lounging in a sunbeam.

looks like Satoru, he types. 

(You stare at the caption for a long longer than necessary.)

It does, you send back.

You visit his temple once. He invited you, actually. A free tour, he had joked. It was beautiful. A large expansive garden filled with all types of flowers. The courtyard felt like it stretched for miles. That was just the outskirts of the temple. The building was something else entirely. A large ceiling. Expansive walls. White pillars that keep going higher and higher and higher. 

You notice his followers are everywhere. Most carry the same smile on their face. Bright, happy, cheery, but too strained. Like it's a job for them. It feels weird to say, but he fits nicely here. You think that because this wasn't the place you thought Suguru would end up. He dons the traditional clothing perfectly. Like they were made for him. They probably were, considering how high his reputation was. 

If he hadn't had the same face, the same hair color. You wouldn't have recognized him at all. He's managed to replace every single thing in his life with something new. It doesn't go unnoticed by you that you're the only thing he keeps from the past. A momento of sorts. You're a keepsake, for him. You don't mind the symbolism. You've always been easily flattered. 

You just failed to realize that not all of his feelings had changed. 

It was in front of your house. After, yet another visit to the temple (much at Suguru's insistence), he'd offered to walk you home. You would have declined if it wasn't so dark out. In the end, you accept his offer. 

"The girls have come to like you," Suguru says after a lull of pleasant silence. When you glance at him, you find his eyes on you. 

"Have they?" you prod. 

In all honestly, you didn't think they liked you at all at first. You don't have that much experience with young children, but you found it odd how unnerved Nanako and Mimiko seemed to get around you, practically hiding behind their father's figure, peeking out with untrusting eyes. Suguru had to gently coax them out with soft words, insisting that you were a close friend of his, you were 'different'. 

"Yes, they talk about you all the time," he continues, rolling his eyes in affection, "Mimiko especially gets very animated." 

Your heart skips a beat at his answer. You never felt one way or the other about children, but it felt nice when two little girls felt so highly about you. Those two especially. 

"It must be from all the sweets I bribed them with," you say, jokingly, "Please tell me I didn't cause them any stomach aches." 

He laughs, light and pretty. 

"It's not that," he responds, "it's because of you, mostly. You're different from the others."

You smile, but it's half-hearted, an attempt more than anything. It takes you a while for you to work up for the question. For some reason, you feel a bit nervous, like you're stepping on something you shouldn't be. 

"Different," you start, "you keep saying that. What does that mean? What am I different from?" 

He stops, just at the entrance of your flat. Suguru's fingers drum on his pants. You stare at him. He stares right back. 

"You are different, in so many different ways," he says, though it feels as though he's speaking to himself, rather than you. 

He takes a step forward. Tiny, he barely even moved. And yet, the distance between the two of you has vanished completely. 

"You've always been. Different from everyone else. The only one." You can't tell if he cut himself off, or if there was truly nothing else to say. 

It was barely a kiss. His lips brushed against yours, barely touching. Soft, like he cherished you the most out of all his possessions. The gentleness of it all is enough for you to freeze. 

Then his hand curls around your waist, and you jolt back into your body. 

You splay your hands on his chest, pushing him away until you have enough momentum to step back. His loose hold on you falls away. You can't look at him, even when you can feel his stare burn into you. 

"Suguru," you say, because you're mind is still running to catch up to your heart, "I-we-" 

Your name being called stops your babbling. You don't think he saw, god you hoped he hadn't. When you look over, he's smiling, so you don't think he did. He was never one to hide his feelings. Still, you step away from Suguru, ignoring how stiff the man had become. 

"Hey," you say, mostly out of relief because you couldn't deal with this anymore. When he wraps you into a hug and a chaste kiss, you wordlessly accept. Suguru's gaze on your back only gets stronger. 

"Who's this?" he asks, gesturing at Suguru. Your smile falters as you glance at Suguru. His face was blank. He wasn't even smiling anymore as he continued to stare at your man. 

"A friend," you say before Suguru can make this already worse, "and he was just leaving." 

"Oh," he says, before smiling down at you. Delightfully oblivious. 

"We'll talk later, okay Suguru?" You send Suguru a hurried smile before dragging him into your shared flat. 

You lock the door behind you. He says something just then, you laugh, trying so hard not to sense Suguru's presence through the door. You don't think he leaves. Not for a good long while. 

You don't speak to Suguru, after that. 

You wince whenever you see his name through your contact list now, as though even seeing a remnant of him is painful. You don't go to the temple anymore. Your communication with the girls turns nonexistent. 

Suguru hasn't said anything to you either. The line has grown dead both ways. 

You feel guilty, even though you know it wasn't your fault, you still can't help but wonder if you could have done something different. Did you do something that made him think you were interested? You probably had, knowing how unaware you could be, sometimes. You couldn't help but feel ecstatic when the two of you reconnected again. You'd been so excited for Suguru, happy for him because he'd finally found his way. You didn't know he still liked you after all these years. It was a schoolyard crush, at least, it was supposed to be.

Looking back, you didn't think you'd even told Suguru that you were already seeing someone. One blunder after a blunder. 

It must have been embarrassing for him, you can't help but think. Even when he was younger, Suguru had always held onto his pride dearly. You don't know if your friendship could ever be the same after this, but you'd like to extend the olive branch. If he'd take it. 

You tell your boyfriend about the incident eventually. You know it's not your fault, but you still feel like it is. He takes it well, once you explain, looking at you sweetly. 

"I could tell something was going on between you and him," he says, "but thanks for telling me." 

"You aren't mad?" you ask, half-afraid of the answer. 

"At you? Course not. Him, however"- he made a swing motion with his fist "-he does something like that again and I'll punch his lights out." 

You laugh, knowing it's a joke, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. He beams. 

It takes a week of radio silence to forget about the mishap. You're humming a song you've forgotten the lyrics to when you arrive at your apartment. Your boyfriend said that he was coming home early tonight. You'd planned something quiet for the evening. A movie, cheap drinks. 

"Welcome home." Suguru grins. You freeze. 

He sits on the couch, splayed out like he belonged there. He's not wearing his priest garment, now garbed with a simple shirt and jeans. It takes a minute for you to figure out what you're looking at. Slowly, you close the door behind you. 

"Hey," you say, hoping your tone doesn't indicate just off-put by this encounter you are.

Suguru doesn't seem to mind your reluctance. 

"He let me in." Suguru points to somewhere behind you. Oh, your boyfriend is probably in the bathroom. "He was such a nice man. You were very lucky." 

"Thank you," you find yourself saying, "I am." 

His smile grows bigger, and you wonder if there's a joke you aren't let in on. Like he's saying something that's going right above your head. 

When you take a glance behind you, your partner is nowhere to be seen. It makes you wonder if you should say something to Suguru right now. Mend the bridge that's shattered between you. Currently, he seemed to be in a good mood. 

"Suguru," you start, taking a tiny step forward. You twiddle with your fingers. 

"Listen, I'm really sorry for how things went the last time we met. I just-" He hushes you, putting a finger to his lips. 

"You shouldn't air out your affairs in front of him like that," he tells you, "you might hurt his feelings." 

What? You look behind you again. Nothing. 

Suguru laughs. It sounds off. Wordlessly, he points behind you again but angles his finger a tiny bit higher. You follow his direction. 

Immediately, you wish you hadn't. 

He's in pieces, scattered all over the ceiling. A hand is above the door, a leg is above the kitchen. It's like his appendages were chopped before being glued onto the ceiling. There's no blood, just body parts. 

The worst part was that he was still alive. His head was still attached to his torso, the only part of him that was still intact. His mouth was open, his eyes were wide, and it took you a second that he was trying to tell you something. Repeating a word over and over. 

Run. 

Your hand covers your mouth as you continue to stare up at him. What was left of him. You think your knees are threatening to give before Suguru's holding you up. You can feel him lead you towards the couch, sitting you down in the plush mattress. He curls an arm around you, letting out a sigh.

"I meant what I said." Suguru adjusts your hair. "He was such a nice man, for a monkey anyway."

It doesn't occur to you that Suguru had done this until he speaks. You'd known Suguru said he performed exorcisms in his temple. You didn't-you couldn't-

"You?" you can barely push the wavering words out, "you-how-Suguru-" 

He hushes you, drawing you closer to his body. You're completely dwarfed by him as he rests his head on your neck, breathing in your scent. You are barely coherent, sucking in air as your voice dissolves into sobs. 

"I would have liked it if things hadn't turned out this way," he sighs, "but I don't believe it would have turned out any differently." 

His tone is almost pitying. 

"You may be the exception, but you are still one of them. Unaware of the true hierarchy." Suguru hums. 

"That's alright. It wasn't your fault. You were simply born this way," he continues, "I don't mind teaching you." 

You wiggle, trying your hardest to get out of his grip. Suguru only clicks his tongue. A harsh grip on your waist is enough to still you. You can't understand what's going on, maybe you never will, but you know one thing. You let a monster back into your life. Geto Suguru was not the same person you knew when you were younger. 

Or perhaps, he was always this way. He was just better at hiding it, back then. 

"I'm sorry," you finally let out, "Suguru, I'm-I'm so so sorry. I'll do whatever-whatever you want. Anything just please please please-" 

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for him," Suguru doesn't sound too apologetic, "though, I could put him out of his pain. Would you like that?" 

You didn't need him to elaborate. Suguru would kill him. Or perhaps he was already dead. His moving eyes, his twitching lips, were all just muscle memory. The last of his brain synapses. There was no science, no magic, that could bring him back from this. 

And maybe, that tiny selfish part of you wanted to stop seeing his mangled body. 

You nod and you can feel Suguru's grin. He snaps his fingers. The thing disappears, vanishes into mist. 

"All gone!" Suguru declares. "There. Isn't that better?" 

You wince when he touches your face, brushing away the tears. You're too scared to do anything more. You don't fight when he kisses your neck. You don't fight when he kisses your jaw. You don't fight when he kisses your lips. 

It's with the same gentleness as the last time he'd kissed you, right outside of your apartment. Soft, warm, loving. 

You start sobbing then. Ugly, heaving, heartbroken. He takes it in stride, humming as he pushes your body down until your back is pressed on the couch. His lips brush your damp cheek. 

"There's no need to be afraid." Through your tears, you can see him smiling down at you. "The worst has passed. I'll take care of you from now on." 

The worst part about all of this is how honest he sounds. Like he truly believes he's doing this for your good. It makes you wonder who the delusional one is. Him or you. 

He's tuts in sympathy as you lay there, shivering underneath him.

"You must be so confused, poor thing." He tilts his head, the back of his fingers stroking your cheeks. "I should explain, shouldn't I? Unfortunately, I'm more interested in other things right now."

You must look horrible, but Suguru doesn't seem to mind, bending down, melding your lips with his. He sighs, like he'd waited eons for this. You stiffen when you feel his hands play with the band of your skirt. As if he can feel your beginnings of struggle, he pulls back, staring you down. Brown, almost black, eyes peer down at you. There's a hint of a warning curling on his lip. 

You still immediately. If he could do that, what could he do to you?

"None of that," he chides, and yet he's so painfully gentle about it, "be good." 

What was he? How did he do this? How could he? You want to ask them all but you can only get one out when you lift your head, getting your voice to work. 

"Why?" 

You don't know what you're asking. He clearly does. Another soft smile. You wish you could tear it off his face. 

"You were always the exception, even back then," He says quietly into the stale air of the apartment. His eyes drift and you wonder if he's remembering the you all those years ago, secretly passing pastries to him and Satoru, giggling at jokes only a highschooler could make. "The only one of the humans who didn't utterly disgust me." 

Fingers reach for the hem of your skirt, pushing it up your bare legs. 

"And it's natural, isn't it? To protect the exceptions, the rarities of the world," he says, "To keep them away from the impure." 

You start crying again. He patiently hushes you, kissing away your tears. This time, you don't bother putting up a fight. You just squeeze your eyes closed, flinching when he reaches to your inner thighs, feeling the cotton of your panties. His breath hitches. So does yours. 

He bypasses the cloth with two dexterous fingers. When he touches the skin, you flinch, trying to squeeze your thighs closed. It doesn't help. Suguru leans forward, you can feel his breath on your cheek as you shiver underneath him. He finds your clit, teasing it with a calloused thumb. You think you're mouthing it, even when you can't bring yourself to say it. Don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me. 

He doesn't listen. You don't know if he heard it or not. It didn't matter, either way. It wasn’t like he was planning to stop.

Despite how much you don’t want this, your body doesn’t listen. His touch is gentle, soothing on your pussy despite the horrors you’ve seen him do. It doesn’t take long for your cunt to adjust, dripping.

There’s a satisfied sigh above you and you know Suguru had felt it too.

One finger pushes into you. You gasp, curling your back, unprepared but Suguru’s giving a pleasant hum, easing you into it. Despite how humiliating this entire situation is, your one reprieve is being able to bury your head into his neck, keeping yourself there as he continues to have his way with your body. You can feel him kiss the crown of your head, an action that completely juxtapositions another finger entering your wet hole.

He’s gentle, but not slow. He fingerfucks you with earnestness, curling his fingers when your walls tighten around him. Your crying is interrupted by the reluctant moans and gasps every time he presses deeper into you, finding a spot that has you seeing stars behind your eyelids. You bit your lip, keeping the noises inward. He tuts at that.

“Don’t be shy,” he coos in your ear, “it’s okay to enjoy it. I want you to.”

As if to highlight his words, he gives another particularly intense push, you wince when you can hear the wet squelch of his fingers.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Suguru asks, “I could always be this nice with you.” You let out a squeak when his thumb presses against your clit, unable to keep it in. Suguru gives a breathy laugh.

His other hand starts to explore, reaching up to your button-up, flicking them off with a single-experienced hand. The bra you wore is barely seductive, but Suguru’s tracing the ends of it anyway, touching the fabric just by your skin before pushing the undergarment down.

Whether it’s from the air or his fingers fucking your pussy, your tits are already sensitive. You let out a breathy whine when Suguru grips on of them too hard, squeezing the fat in his large hands.

“So sweet for me.” You can hear the smile on his lips.

Everything becomes too much, and before you can think, your hand is shooting down, grabbing onto his wrist, squeezing as hard as you can, your nails digging into his skin. Your other is pushing against his shoulder. He barely seemed to even notice, holding you down with his weight, thrusting in his fingers all the way to the knuckle.

“Suguru I-” It’s supposed to be another plea for him to stop, but your weak voice calling out his name only seems to excite him further. His thumb dances on your swollen clit, his fingers never relenting until he’s pushing you higher and higher until you fall.

White hot electric pleasure snaps within you, forcing your body to jolt, as you curl up from the sofa. You think he’s saying something, words of comfort as though he could be any crueler, but you’re not listening. You came so hard you almost forget where you are, who you’re with. You can feel Suguru watching until you fall against the cushion again, utterly spent. Your grip slackens against his wrist, before falling away completely.

“See? Didn’t I say I’ll take care of you?” You don't even have the energy to glare at him.

He’s giving another laugh, kissing your cheek before he’s leaning back. His fingers slip out of you, and then there’s a sucking sound. You can’t help it, blinking open your eyes. Suguru stares back at you, eyes half-mast, a pink tongue flicking out to lick at his fingers before he puts them in his mouth completely, swallowing down the evidence of your orgasm. A lewd moan escapes him, muffled. You once again wished you hadn’t looked.

You’re already expecting it, but you still flinch when you hear the zipper loud and clear. He moves his jeans low enough to pull out his cock. He’s already hard, a bead of precum right at the tip as he gives a few cursory pumps. He’s big, you blearily realize. Despite the mind-numbing orgasm he’d just given you, you doubt it’d be enough to even take him.

“It won’t fit,” you find yourself whispering.

Suguru just hums in acknowledgement, giving you a knowing look as he finishes tugging off your panties. The fabric slides off your shaking leg before dropping onto the carpeted floor.

It’s too late for a fight, but you’re rising anyway, pressing your hands against the cushions, trying to create some space. Suguru is quick to shut it down again, leaning back into you as he palms himself some more.

“You’ll be alright,” he assures but it doesn’t help the panic the fear in your soul, “I cherish you too much to break you.”

With little effort, he spreads your thighs. His cock rubs against you once, twice, before entering your throbbing pussy.

Already it’s too much. He’s thick, stretching out your walls, threatening to rip you in half. You close your eyes again, squeezing them shut as the pain starts to edge a little too close to bloody. Helpless, your hand finds his shoulder, not pushing but digging your nails into his shirt. He purrs when you grip him tighter, moving until he’s seated fully into you.

He stays like that, keeping himself there as your walls squeeze him tighter. It’s almost a relief that it ended, but now, he’s taken everything.

“Look at me.”

His voice is rough, almost a rasp, an order. You find yourself obeying. Through your tears, you blink up at him, finding his gaze.

He stares down at you, a look of satisfaction in his eyes and you don’t think you are yours anymore.

He pulls back, your cunt tries to suck him back in, but he drags his cock out anyway until only his head is barely inside.

“Perfect,” Suguru murmurs as though it’s a secret not even you should hear, “absolutely perfect.”

You cry out when he pushes back in. It’s a gentle pace, slow and steady like he’s easing you into it. He’s being kind, you finally realize, a thought that makes your skin crawl. It’s so much worse than if he had been nasty. Harsh and biting with thrusts that would make your body sore and weak afterwards. If he was abusive, not caring about you, just his own pleasure. You wish Suguru was being mean, being cruel. At least then, you wouldn’t like it.

Despite the unexpected size, your body is adjusting. Pain ripples into reluctant pleasure, numbing your mind as his hips meet yours. It gets even worse when Suguru leans down, biting and sucking at your tits, enough for there to leave a mark. Something that will bruise and remind you of what he did.

“You don’t know how long I wanted this,” he’s saying somewhere above you but your head is swimming and you can’t focus where you want to, “how long I’ve wanted you like this.”

Suguru sits up again, grabbing one of your legs, hiking your hips up so his cock can go that much deeper inside of you. You babble something that you yourself can’t decipher. Suguru’s lips curl into another painfully soft smile.

“Ever since highschool,” he’s confessing like he’s a sinner and you’re his God but you know that isn’t true because what sort of god would be humiliated like this? “Remember that apron you wore?”

His hand reaches over, spreading over your pussy, stretching the fatty part of your cunt so he can have a better view of him disappearing inside of you.

“I always wondered what you’d look like wearing nothing but that on, spread out on the counter for me.”

He flicks your clit, and for the second time that day, you can feel yourself crashing. As though he can sense it, his thrusts shorten, grinding against your pussy and there’s a hand catching your chin, forcing you to look.

Suguru’s smile is gone, replaced by a snarl that promises to eat you alive. His eyes are blown wide, and he’s gritting his teeth, barely holding control by a hair.

“Come for me.”

You’re too far gone to do anything but listen.

You stutter in his grasp, arching your back, cumming with a breathy whine. It’s like a tide, pushing you out into sea, refusing to take you in. Unconsciously, the leg he holds tightens around his waist as you pulse around his cock.

He follows after, barely holding himself together, not when your cunt is milking him for all its’ worth. There’s a few particularly harsh thrusts before something warm and sticky fills your battered pussy before he's falling into you, pressing your body against the soft cushions.

You lay there, panting with him on top of you. Slowly, you come back to yourself, feeling your arms your legs. Your brain resets, and you’re suddenly remembering that you have a murderer’s cock inside of you.

Suguru’s face is buried in your neck. He gives a shaky kiss to your jaw; another on the corner of your lips. You can only stare at the ceiling, where the remnants of a body used to be.

"You know, the girls have always wanted a mother," Suguru's saying into your skin.

"I'm sure they will be very pleased with my choice."

[jasonsmirrorball]

BLOOD IN YOUR MOUTH JASON TODD (college!au)

↳ the first time jason kisses you he's bloody and bruised, and you can't find him more attractive for it

cw: injury, blood, mentioned harassment (not of the reader)

blank blogs DNI you will be blocked

The first time Jason kisses you, he’s bloody and standing underneath a streetlight outside the bar he’s just been kicked out of. You’re utterly enamoured.

It is a Saturday afternoon, and you’ve just submitted your last midterm when the text comes through. The outline of his name on your phone sends a thrill down your spine, and you can’t help the curl of excitement. 

J-A-S-O-N. 

You trace your eyes over the letters, the blank contact photo doing little to curb the butterflies. They’re no less stronger than when he’d asked you for your number, a warm afternoon after class when the both of you had found your way to the your usual table in the library. You recall the reason he’d used, recall the slant of his mouth as he’d talked, the clutch of his bag in his fingers, the way the light had bent through the window and caught the dust floating above the table. You recall suddenly warm palms, fingertips hot to the touch as you saved his number when the first message had come through. 

>> come out tonight?

You frown.

While it’s true that since the beginning of the semester you’ve gotten to know Jason better and as a not entirely unpleasant consequence, been better about hiding away, you’re still tired from the back to back assignments you’ve had to turn in. You’d much rather turn in for the weekend. 

And yet, when it comes to the handsome boy you’d met in your literature class last semester, you find it hard to say no. You want to hang out with him so badly sometimes it feels embarrassing. You wonder if it’s obvious how you both soak up his attention and shy away from it. Even months later, you find yourself bashful around him.

As if sensing your hesitation, another two messages come through almost immediately, in rapid succession.

>> it’ll be fun

>> dinner’s on me btw

You chew your lip, staring down at the message. 

<< i'm kind of tired idk

<< where do you wanna go

The text bubble appears as you begin to pack your things, sweeping papers off your desk and into a neat pile, collecting cluttered pens and highlighters. The last week has turned your bedroom into something akin to a disaster site, clothes strewn everywhere and sheets rumpled. You bite back a groan at the thought of the cleaning you’ll have to do. 

>> i know a place like ten minutes away from campus

>> drinks after?

<< presumptuous

<< i haven't even agreed

>> ok so agree !

>> it’ll be a good time

You huff out a laugh at his tone, typing out a response.

<< who else is going?

>> just you and me kid

>> be excited

>> i’ll drop you home if you wanna leave after dinner

In the bathroom now, tidying the mess of skin and hair products, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You tilt your head, and your reflection does too, as if to say, well? Will you?

You text him your response.

<< ok when should i meet you?

<< send me the address

Jason is lingering outside the restaurant when you walk up, and you take a moment to admire him as you approach, hands in his pockets and shoulders slouched, relaxed. His hair looks wet, and orange light washes over him where he stands beneath an awning, a sky of darkening blue behind him. As if sensing your approach, he turns his head from where he’s been looking at something across the street and his eyes light up in recognition. Your name tumbles from his lips and he takes a step forward as you cross the distance.

“Hey,” he greets you, smiling down at you. “You made it.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” you murmur. His lips stretch into a wider grin and you catch a glimpse of his canines, wolf sharp, a shiver curling down your spine at the sight.

“Guess you did. I’m glad. Come on,” he says, jerking his chin and reaching for the door, letting you enter first. “I think you’ll like this place.”

His shirt brushes against your back, and you swallowed by the sheer size of him, tall and broad shouldered, but it feels reassuring to have him there, especially as the hostess makes eye contact with you and he smoothly coordinates everything. His hand bumps against your elbow as she leads you both to a table and he murmurs out an apology at the same time you do, habitually, shooting you a funny look when he hears you, like he’s amused.

You’re seated across from him at a table so small his knees bump against yours beneath the table and he laughs a little when you say sorry once again. It isn’t the first time you’ve hung out with him, or the first time you’ve gotten food together–a semester has come and gone since your meeting him, and now the fall semester has started up again, but he has a way of short-circuiting your system, earnest and straightforward and far prettier than he has any right to be. You aren’t used to boys like him–though a voice in your head suggests that there isn’t anyone else like him. 

You offer him a small smile when he laughs. 

“Can’t believe they stuck us here,” he says to you, dropping his voice as a waiter passes your table. You look over to where a fair few tables far larger than yours remain unoccupied, and grimace in sympathy. “At least the food is good.”

You look up from the menu, sparing him a glance. He’s all rounded edges and sweeter looking in the soft light. You look back down.

“You’ve been here before?” you ask, feeling silly for the question but he nods.

“My brother took me, when I first moved out here,” he says, scratching idly at his cheek. Teal eyes skim the plastic menu. “We come here whenever he comes to visit.”

“Older brother?” you guess and he hums. 

“Dick,” he says, and his eyes widen when you stare at him. “His name, I mean. That’s his name…Richard, but he goes by..yeah.”

“Oh,” you laugh, as your pulse flutters under your skin. “Bet he gets a lot of flack for that.”

“You have no idea,” he snorts, launching into a story that has you covering your mouth to stifle your laughter. 

Somehow, dinner flies by faster than you think it would, a blur of stories from both your childhood and his. Jason asks questions and you don’t feel as though you’ve been put on the spot, pleasantly warm as you answer through your own laughter. The bubbles from your drink linger and pop on your tongue, and there’s a flush in your face that you blame wholly on him and his teal eyes, attentive and animated as he describes his family.

The both of you are pushing out of the door after an argument about splitting the bill (“I said I would pay, get lost!” and “I didn’t even agree to that!”) that had left you pouting and Jason smug. The rush of air that greets you is cool against your heated cheeks, and you smile to yourself as the both of you step out into the street.

“So?” Jason asks and you turn to him. “Was I right? It was good, huh?”

And he looks so pleased with himself that even if you hadn’t enjoyed a bit of it, you wouldn’t have it in you to tell  him.

“It was,” you agree and his smile grows broader.

You lapse in conversation for a moment, and a breeze ruffles his hair on its way through the lit street. It’s grown fairly busier as night falls, crowds of people out to enjoy their weekend, and you step closer to Jason as a particularly large group passes you, falling into step by his side to avoid bumping into them.

“So..home?” he asks, tentative.

“I think so.” You chew the bottom of your lip. “I got up early to get in the finishing touches on my midterm.”

His eyes go soft, almost immeasurably fond, as he gazes down at you. “Of course you did. Alright, c’mon, then. Let’s get you home.”

He takes your hand gently, fingers circling your wrist loosely and guiding you down the busy street. You find yourself appreciative of this, even as the butterflies erupt anew in your stomach at the touch, his body carving a path in the flow of foot traffic that you can fall into easily without worry of getting lost. 

The both of you walk in silence, the sounds of the city filling in the gaps around you. You admire the outline of Jason’s profile in front of you, light from the cars and storefronts washing over the both of you and throwing him into sharp technicolour focus in front of you. You feel a little dizzy at the sight of it, and looking down to where your hands join only worsens it, rendering you soft and pliant in his hold, tracing his footsteps with your own. 

And then, all of a sudden, you’re coming to a halt in front of a parking lot next to a bar, nearly colliding with his back. You blink, equal parts sleepy and stunned, peering over his shoulder where he’s stiffened up. 

“What?” you ask. He reaches into his pocket with his free hand, and turns around to pass you a set of keys. You frown, confused, following his finger when he points to an old, red car just a few feet away.

“That’s my car, I’m just gonna go check on something over there,” he says, tipping his head back to gesture to the bar. “Can you get it started for me? I won’t be long.”

“Is everything okay?” you ask, and now you’re the one holding his wrist as he turns, taking a half step after him. He looks back at you, and his mouth relaxes, offering you a reassuring nod.

“‘S fine, sweetheart,” he assures, pushing you gently in the direction of his car. “Be back in a sec.”

But curiosity roots you to the pavement where you stand, and you watch as he walks to the entrance of the bar, where murky yellow light spills out onto the walkway. Several bench tables have been pushed together on the outer side of the path, smaller tables with high stool chairs pressed against the exterior wall of the establishment. It’s fairly empty outside, all the patrons seeking shelter from the chilly weather inside and you step a little closer to see when Jason, shoulders set like a man on a mission, crosses the threshold and disappears into the building.

You creep a little closer, keys clutched in your fingers, until you can get a look through the windows. They’re a little stained, but you find Jason eventually, crowding close to a pool table where a boy around your age is leaning down, cue stick pointed against green felt. His back is to the window, but you watch the guy pause and straighten up, annoyance clear on his face even as he tries to cover it up with a smile you don’t think you like too much, self-assured and a little mean. There isn’t any friendliness in it. 

Outside, the wind begins to pick up and you’re wondering whether you should just return to the car–every bad thing in the movies happens because people can’t mind their own business–when suddenly, so fast you almost miss it, his fist flies out and knocks right into Jason. You jump in surprise, a hand flying to your mouth to muffle the startled yell that slips out. 

But Jason is seemingly unphased, and you catch a glimpse of blood in his mouth as he– smiles. It’s nothing like the smiles you’ve ever seen, wild and a little feral as he lunges forward, knuckles slamming against the boy’s cheek and sending him sprawling across the tabletop. He just gets that hit in before he’s being restrained and hauled back to the door, shoved across the threshold with no regard for gentleness. He stumbles, and that grin is still curving his mouth up when he looks up, wolfish, savage, and–it stutters when he meets your eyes.

You stare back, wide eyed at the sight of him. His keys hang limply in your hand, forgotten in favour of their owner whose nose has begun to bleed down his chin, drippin onto the collar of his shirt and staining it crimson. 

“I–thought I told you to wait in the car,” he says weakly, at last. 

“What was that?” you ask, dazed, ignoring him. You look between him and the windows of the bar, where you can still see the other boy, holding a tea towel to his split cheek. 

His lips part, and he looks away as if to search for an answer he does not have. Like a magnet, your gaze flicks down. You swallow at the smear of red that settles above his cupid’s bow, dark, almost black as the shadows on his face stretch.

“Jason.” You stress his name. He grimaces.

“I didnt-” he breaks off, letting out a loud sigh. “I knew him, okay? Didn’t do that for no reason.”

You wait, sensing the oncoming explanation. By his side, you spot the reddening skin of his knuckles, looking at home amongst the pale, faded scars.

“He’s a dick,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It seems almost shy, the way his fingers press against his lips as he tells you the truth. “He’s in one of my classes and he was giving one of the other guys a hard time ‘cause..” 

His face hardens and you fear he’s about to go back into the bar. You hedge a step forward to clutch his sleeve. He shakes his head. You don’t let go. “Anyway, he had it coming. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else. He was bothering some girl in there too, when I saw him…piece of shit.”

Affection blooms between your ribs so suddenly it leaves you breathless, and you stare up at him, stunned.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he blows out a breath, watching you carefully. 

“I thought you’d hit him harder,” you blurt out, and his eyes widen. He lets out a tired laugh, wincing in between snickers.

“Don’t think you’re s’posed to agree with me, baby,” he murmurs, drawing closer. You’ve probably stretched his sleeve out with your grip, but you make no move to let go. Baby. It fits in his mouth, belongs to him, even. He’s claimed it now. 

“Right,” you breathe out, blinking up at his face. The air goes still, the undercurrents of adrenaline re-igniting with the trip of your voice over the five letter word. There is no admonishment in your tone, and teal eyes turn onyx in half a breath, lashes fluttering as he looks at you. “Violence…is bad..”

His eyes crease, amused, but he’s barely moving, and his voice comes out a little strangled. “Word of advice, don’t ever go into politics.”

“You don’t believe me?” you joke quietly and he huffs out a laugh. Once more, your gaze snags on the glimpse of his canines, peeking from below his lips, pointed and shiny.

You can smell the blood on him when he takes a step closer, the toes of his sneakers scuffing against yours. You look at him clearly, awash with the yellow light of the street, bloody and bruising. He’s lucky that he isn’t due back on campus for another two weeks, but you have a feeling it wouldn’t matter either way–he’s no less attractive to you. It should concern you that you find blood a good look on him, or that the savagery in his smile only made your heart beat a little faster, but you can only stare through half lidded eyes at him.

Somewhere down the road, the roar of an engine filters through the air, but you pay it little attention when he draws closer, closer, closer. 

You aren’t sure who moves first, only that Jason kisses you for the first time underneath that streetlight, and the taste of copper in your mouth only presses you closer into him, clutching his sleeve and hoping it leaves as much of a mark that he’s left on you. 

i hope this made u guys feel as insane reading it as it made me writing it (and trying to post it, but for a different reason). something about a man covered in his own blood...

[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter One

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

You leaned back against the desk, ignoring the leftover smattering of paint as it seeped into your overalls, and checked the time. Miles’s face was stuck to the pages of his sketchbook, blue and red ink staining his cheek as he snored softly. One hand loosely gripped an open highlighter, the other dangled over the edge of his desk, half-eaten sandwich abandoned on the floor.

Twenty minutes. He’d been asleep for twenty minutes, and if you let him sleep any longer, he’d be late for fifth period.

You rapped your knuckles on his pencil case, the ringing tin jolting the teenager awake. Brown eyes flashed around the room, fists shooting out in an amateur boxing move as he tried to figure out why his spidey sense hadn’t warned him of any danger.

But there was no danger here. Nope, just Miss Y/l/n staring at him curiously from under raised brows.

“Wakey wakey, Miles,” You wore your usual pair of yellow Converse and paint-splattered overalls, the pockets hanging wide and loose after years of carrying around paint bottles, brushes, and books. The school board liked to complain about your “improper dress,” but at the end of the day you were one of the school’s only art teachers - and the most highly approved by students.

“Oh heyyyyy Miss Y/l/n.” He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck before dropping to the floor and snatching up his forgotten lunch. This was the fourth time you’d caught him sleeping in your classroom. Any more and you might actually have to start giving him detention. He tossed pens, snacks, and his sketchbook haphazardly into his bag, but not before you caught sight of a familiar blond-haired, blue-eyed girl smiling in front of a backdrop rioting with yellow, pinks, and blues more vibrant than a fireworks display. “GWEN!” the comic-style calligraphy called out next to her glowing face. Miles always seemed to be drawing her these days.

“You’ve still got five minutes left, calm down.” Miles straightened up to face you, clutching his lunchbox to his chest and smiling nervously. You folded your arms over your chest and stared pointedly at the gangly boy in front of you. With how much he’d grown over the last few months you wondered if one of his ancestors had been a garden weed. 

“You want to talk about what’s been going on, Miles?” 

“What do you-what do you mean?”

“You’ve been falling asleep in my class, this is the fourth time I’ve caught you napping here during lunch, and now I hear from Mr. Maloney that you’ve been skipping English.”

“He-he told you that?” He tugged at the collar of his shirt, hoping for a breeze to drift in through the window and save him from his nerves. He thought he’d been good about juggling the responsibilities of being a high-schooler and everyone’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. If his parents noticed anything different about him they chalked it up to teenage angst and grief over Uncle Aaron’s death. But someone had caught him slipping up.

You shrugged, “The teacher’s lounge exists, and people like to talk.”

“Oh…” he mumbled, shoulders dropping.

The dull ringing of the school bell cut through the silence, followed shortly by the rumblings of conversation as students filled the hallway, moving with the current like fish in a river.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, “Listen, Miles, you’re not in trouble, ok?” Miles sighed in relief. “If you need to eat your lunch or just take a break in my classroom that’s fine with me. I just want to make sure you’re not trying to flunk out like last year.” 

He shook his head adamantly. He couldn’t - wouldn’t - drop out of Brooklyn Visions now. He had a plan for the future: go to Princeton, figure out multiversal traveling, and reunite with Gwen and Peter and the rest of the Spider-gang. Seemed simple enough… and totally doable…

“I promise that’s not the case, Miss Y/l/n.” The sincerity behind his words satisfied you.

“Alright Miles, but I’m keeping an eye on you,” You said dramatically, squinting your eyes and pointing at his chest. Miles snorted, mouth breaking open into a lopsided grin, “Now get out of here or Mrs. Cape will think I’ve convinced you to go to art school again.” 

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I just…”

“Yes, yes, you want to go study physics at Princeton,” you waved your hand in the air, tracing some invisible pattern in the sunlight before grabbing a wet wipe from your desk and tossing it to Miles, “Quantum mechanics, the multiverse, and all that stuff.” 

It wasn’t the first time he’d told you about his future plans, but the words that left his mouth had a tendency of flying over your head. The kid was too smart for his own good.

You paused and took a moment to look at Miles, to really look at him as he scrubbed away at the ink on his cheek, “Those Princeton schmucks would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks Miss Y/l/n.” Again he gave you that crooked, boyish smile.

“Alright now out, out!” You shooed him towards the door, watching as he saluted you and flashed you one last smile before joining the crowd of students and disappearing around the corner.

You slipped back into your classroom, the smell of charcoal, dried paint, and pencil shavings settling into your lungs - sweet and comforting. There wasn’t an inch of space that wasn’t covered in some manner of artwork: sketches, paintings, collages… colorful graffiti that you should probably scrub out before parent-teacher conferences. Most of the pieces were the works of current students, but sometimes people like to leave things behind on purpose, trusting that you would find a place for them somewhere.

You wiped down the desks, rubbed the worst paint splotches from your overalls, and then collapsed into your chair, swiveling around and munching on the sandwich you’d picked up at the Prospect St. bodega. You had thirty minutes of peace and quiet before sixth period. 

That’s more than enough time. You thought to yourself. Maybe I’ll get some grading done and-

A head of curly black hair popped into the room, face wet and screaming with tears. You straightened in your chair as the boy’s lips thinned, then turned down. His shoulders began to tremble.

“He…He,” Hiccup, “He broke up with me, Miss Y/l/n.” 

“Oh geez,” you sighed deeply, setting your sandwich down and ushering the boy in. 

There were things you missed about being a teenager… the highs and lows of a first love were not on that list.

>>>

Saturday nights were sacred - the only time you reserved entirely for yourself. No grading, no reviewing and updating lesson plans, no agonizing over student reviews. You’d used to go out with old college friends for drinks on the weekend, but most of them had moved out of the city or gotten married and were doing married people things.

Is this what getting older is like? You wondered as you snuggled further into your couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders to keep out the chill. It wasn’t too terrible… albeit a little lonely.

The latest in a slew of cooking shows played out on the tv, throwing flashes of light onto the book-burdened coffee table and providing the background noise necessary for you to finally get your thoughts out of your sketchbook. But the moment you went to put the pen nib down, your mind went blank, and not in a good way. Every line looked wrong, the eyes of the figure looking bloated and misshapen. Time creeped by slowly, dragging you along for a ride as smooth as sandpaper.

 You knew the cause of your frustration, but knowing never made it better. It had been two months since Richard had moved out, two months and one day since you’d found out he was cheating on you with some grad student at NYU. 

Pendejo.

You’d hated his interior decorating, but now the blank spaces on the wall screamed his name. 

You tossed your sketchbook and pencil onto the ground and went to make a cup of tea. Maybe you were better off calling it a night and crawling into bed. Mid-year reviews had just ended and you had a long list of emails to reply to in the morning. One thing you hadn’t been expecting when you’d accepted this job was the number of parents who’d be on your ass about their kids getting a B in art - in art. 

The tea kettle was just about to open its mouth and start singing when a crash sounded from the living, followed by a sheepish “Whoops.” The muffled word punctuated Paul Hollywood’s critique of someone’s lemon tart - too stodgy.

Your blood ran cold as the stranger continued to mutter. 

“There goes another one. Wow there’s a lot of stuff on the floor.” Another one of your precious potted plants hit the ground with a dull crack. 

You grabbed the wooden bat from where it leaned against the wall, swinging it easily behind your head. At least there was one good thing Richard had left you with. 

You creeped out into the hallway, backing up towards the front door with your eyes trained on the shadowy figure making a mess of your living room. The figure fluctuated in and out of existence as he stumbled about the room, tripping over the piles of books and art supplies littering the ground. His body splintered outwards like cobwebs and twisted with flashes of bright light, haunting and inhuman. 

The creak of the floorboards gave you away. All at once the figure stopped and turned around to look at you. Where its face should have been was a single, flickering white spot, pulsing with curiosity as it tilted its head to the side. 

Mierda. 

You bolted towards the door… but he was already there.

“Why hello Mrs. O’Hara. Nice to finally meet you.” A thousand voices said at once.

You screamed and swung. 

The first swing missed, leaving a crater in the drywall. The second swing hit true, but the bat merely sunk into the black void of his body, some force ripping it out of your hands as you staggered backward. “Oh! Well that wasn’t very nice.” The creature laughed. 

Spindly tendrils of dark matter grabbed hold of you and you let out one final scream before the Spot swallowed you whole.

There was a momentary blindness and the sensation of falling before you were unceremoniously spit out onto a hard granite floor. You winced at the rough cut of broken glass beneath your heels, with nothing to protect you but a thin pair of socks. You looked upward and gasped. 

Where there had once been a towering glass ceiling dozens of stories high lay a gaping hole, the metal beams blown backwards into the night air like a blooming flower. It took you a moment to recognize the building, after all you’d seen it nonstop on the news for weeks last year - Alchemax.

What the hell?

Police tape criss-crossed over the debris like yellow spider webs, the scene broken up by black holes that morphed and twisted around you, pulsing with the same energy as the stranger in your apartment.

I must be dreaming. You thought. But in the back of your mind you remembered bits and pieces of what Miles told you he’d been studying over the summer - wormholes and spacetime and portals to different universes. 

You picked up a piece of metal off the floor, experimentally tossing it into one of the spots. It disappeared under the surface like pottery in slip before popping back into existence above you. You only narrowly lunged out of the way before it crashed into the ground and stuck there like a sword in a battlefield.

“Beautiful, isn’t it Mrs. O’Hara?” the Spot stepped out of a hole in the fabric of spacetime beside you. 

You jumped back, choking the scream in your throat. “That’s not-that’s not my name.” You managed to say. “Maybe you’ve kidnapped the wrong person?” A stupid hope.

“Oh? What is it then?” You said nothing, daring to lean down and pick up a jagged piece of roof panel. It might not do much, but it made you feel safer with its weight in your hands. “Well you don’t need to tell me. I just wanted to ask you a question.” He blipped out of existence, taking with him the darkness that pooled out of his skin.

“Who is Spider-Man?” the voices said as the Spot reappeared right beside you.

“You’ve got to stop doing that! Pendejo.” 

“What?”

“Just talk to me like a normal person.” You pointed the roof panel at him, keeping him at a safe distance.

“Who. Is. Spider-Man?” He stepped closer, the tip of your makeshift weapon sinking into his skin like he wasn’t even there. 

The question made you pause. That was what he wanted to know? He had kidnapped you just to ask about Spider-Man? 

“Um, I mean, he’s kind of the local superhero. Stops thieves, saves kittens stuck in trees, makes questionable brand deals at times-”

“NO! I know who Spider-Man is.” 

You blinked in confusion, eyes shifting to the side, “Then why did you kidnap me?”

“I want to know Spider-Man’s identity! His real identity.” The edges of his body sparked, shooting outward and striking the walls of the room. Dust and plaster fell to the ground like snow.

“I don’t-how the fuck am I supposed to know who Spider-Man is?!”

“You know him! The other version of you knew him!” 

“What, other me?”

“The alternate universe version of you!” He threw his hands up into the air like a petulant child. The darkness around him grew with every passing minute, crawling around on the floor and up onto the walls like a reptile looking for its next meal. He slid his hands down his face, somehow pulling at the ether he was made of as he muttered under his breath.

“Whatever, I may have miscalculated. You’ll still be important. Don’t you worry. You may not know who Spider-Man is, but Spider-Man sure knows you.”

Next chapter ->

>>>

Author's Note: so... I may have gotten carried away and written the second chapter as well... hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666 @natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies @07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things

[katsu28]

can I request “Baby’s Breath - a wholesome moment” with our favorite grump remus? maybe just some domestic fluff?

i've been delving deeper into my marauders phase lately so thank you so much for this request <3 he's not too much of a grump in this one but i can give u soft bf remus today i hope that's okay

remus lupin x reader, 1k, fluff fluff and more fluff

Remus never thought he’d ever have a life like he had now. He’d always thought he was destined to live a life of solitude, a life where nothing good and nothing pure ever dared come his way. Sure, he had his best mates and they were more than he could ever ask for, but he wanted…more.

He always felt a tiny gnaw in his gut thinking about Lily and James, Marlene and Dorcas—they were happy, they were as infatuated with each other as the day they met. He didn’t resent them, he wasn’t jealous of them, but he wanted what they had. He wanted a love as strong as theirs with someone of his own. 

Never in a million years did he think he’d get the chance to have something like that. 

Then you came along, and you were good and pure and about a hundred other things Remus adored. You were kind and caring and made his heart thump a little faster and a little harder against his ribcage. It took a bit of time for him to fully let you in, to fully trust you with everything he had, but you were patient with him. 

From there, being with you was something straight out of his fantasies. You had your ups and downs like every healthy couple, but you always talked it out like the mature young adults you were and made up quick.

He now understood what it felt like to love someone more than life itself, to love another person so much that he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.

Fast forward to present day, you and Remus had recently moved in with each other. It was nothing special, just a small flat in central London—but it was special to Remus. It was where you’d begun the rest of your life together only a few months ago, tiny (some would call it cramped, but you and Remus didn't think so) and a little bit weathered, but it was yours. It was home. 

There were still a few half unpacked boxes laying around, but for the most part you’d settled in nicely. With that new home came a new routine too, with Remus juggling his jobs at the old secondhand bookshop down the road and handling the finances at Sirius’s auto garage. He came home late sometimes, exhausted and smelling of motor oil despite being cooped up in the back office all day. 

“Rem!” You greeted him happily like you always when he stepped through the door, making your way over to where he was hanging his scarf on the coat hooks to hug him tightly.

It was always the highlight of his day, getting to come to you. His bones ached and he felt sticky and grimy, but then you kissed him and it suddenly didn’t feel like the worst thing in the world. 

“Hi, love,” He replied softly, sinking into your embrace with closed eyes.  

Your fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching gentle circles that had him melting just a little bit more. “How was your day?” 

“Same as always. Paperwork, paperwork, more paperwork.” He pulled away from you, lacing his fingers through yours to tug you along behind him into the kitchen. “James brought by some Peruvian takeaway for lunch though, really good stuff—we should try it one day, I think you’d like it.”

“Oh! That reminds me, Lily rang earlier, asked if we had any time tomorrow to pop by theirs for something? She wouldn’t say what but I think she’s pregnant.” 

Remus chuckled, amused. “What makes you say that?” 

“Sirius said he could smell something different about her.” 

“And you trusted him? He’s a knob.” 

“He’s your best friend.” 

“Still a knob.” He replied, pulling open the cupboard to grab a mug. “Tea?” He grabbed another one at your eager nod, busying himself with filling the kettle and setting it on the stove to boil. 

You’d moved to the countertop in the meantime, socked feet swinging, thumping against the cupboards below with each movement. You were smiling warmly at him when he turned back to face you, watching him shuffle around the tiny kitchen like you’d never seen anything more interesting. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He arched a brow at you. “Nothing, I’m just…really happy. Here. With you. In our own home.” 

Remus brightened noticeably, coming over to run a light hand down your arm until your fingers were intertwined. He brought it up to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “It’s nice, innit?” 

“Everything’s nice with you.” You were quite aware of how sappy you sounded, but it was true. Just existing in the same space as Remus, sharing a space with him, was so lovely and comforting and everything you'd ever wanted. You traced along the scar bridging his nose, following it down his cheek until your arms found their home looped around his neck and you pulled him in even closer, kissing him softly. 

He wasted no time kissing you back. He never did. Remus loved kissing you more than he loved a lot of things in this world, and he made sure you knew it with every single one. 

Somewhere in the background you heard the kettle whistling over on the stove, but you didn’t really feel the need to pay it any mind. Not when he was kissing you like this, like he wanted to get lost in your touch, like he always did. It wasn’t until it started to annoy you that you splayed your palms against the soft wool of his jumper. 

“You better get the kettle before it boils over.” You murmured against his mouth, barely giving him an inch of space between the two of you. 

Letting out a gentle huff, Remus fumbled for his wand in the pocket of his trousers, pulling it out and mumbling an incantation under his breath with the flick of his wrist. The kettle fell silent. “Right, now where were we?” 

“Pretty sure your mouth was on mine.” 

“Ah yes, how could I ever forget?”

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[bonesandchalamet]

the last night - c.fisher

masterlist

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

warnings: some angst?? + some fluff

a/n: kinda hate this!!! if you have any Conrad or Jeremiah requests my inbox is open!! there are NO spoilers to season 2 or book 2!!!

the thing with Conrad was that he never said what he wanted to say. he let opportunities and moments pass instead of stepping up and saying what’s on his chest.

you spent all summer chasing after his heart. living for the little lines of hope that he would give you every other night. he had the capability of making you feel like the most important girl in the world, only to tear it down and make you feel like the smallest the next day.

the final night of summer had finally fallen under cousins beach. it was the last night for anything. you could either leave your whole heart on the line, or walk away with your tail in between your legs scared of admitting the truth.

that was the ability August had on summer romances. it only lasts for so long until that dreaded month rolled around. the one that threatens everything.

“any plans?” Jeremiah asks. he slips into the lounge chair beside you. two of you soaking up the final rays as much as you could. you didn’t care if you left looking like a lobster, summer was officially ending.

“no,” you pause for a brief second before turning to him, “you?” you ask and tilt your sunglasses down your nose. his hair just reaches above his eyes, blond highlights from the summer scatter across his head.

“something with steven. you’re not hanging out with con?”

you shrug and turn your attention back to the pool where conrad swims laps. his heads underwater, you’re sure he can’t hear a thing when you turn back to his brother, “I’ll probably just stay in and pack.”

“that’s boring.” you hear from across the pool. your head swivels in the direction of his voice. he’s drying off with a towel sitting on the edge of his chair.

“well what are you doing then?” you bite back. watching him take a swig out of his beer, you roll your eyes in disgust. you can’t help but want those lips against yours despite the bitter contents against them.

he shrugs his shoulders in response. you watch him get up from the side of the pool and saunter his way over to you and Jeremiah, “something more entertaining than rereading that book, that you’ve read no more than five pages of.”

he picks the book up by the spine tossing it into your lap, the pages spill out against your stomach.

this was another thing you hated about conrad. how his words were always cold and bitter, even if you know he didn’t mean them the blow still hurt.

you feel nervous under his gaze. the way his eyes were hard on you before he slips into the summer house and you can breathe again.

you look over at Jeremiah who shrugs his shoulders and says, “august means he goes to school. no more him ruining my parade.”

there it is again. the reminder you didn’t need to hear: it was in fact august.

—

summer with conrad was a rollercoaster. one minute, you were having the best time of your life. chasing the high of the ride. and then the next, your stomach was twisting in knots and sobbing into your pillow over the silly things he’s said.

maybe your friends back home were right. this should be the year you let go of conrad. this summer was his final chance to get it right.

except, summer was just starting to end. he never got his act right like you wanted, and you kept chasing him like you always did. god, he had the ability to make you look like a kid chasing after a balloon in the sky. so naive it’ll come down.

you’re seated in the back of Jeremiah’s car. Steven in the front seat, shayla beside you in the back. this was a now or never type of moment. you could go inside and convince conrad to join the last beach party of the year, or go alone.

“just go talk to him.” Steven turns to you in the back seat, “you’re the only one that can convince him.” his eyes are pleading for you to get out and go.

the boys would be fine without conrad, it was you they knew would regret the choice you made.

you huff out a sigh pushing open the car door and allowing it to slam behind you. you rush up those front steps and carefully place the door behind you.

you snuck up the stairs and without a thought in your mind, push open his bedroom door. lucky for you, he’s laying in bed.

“can I help you?” he crosses his arms over his crinkled blue t-shirt, eyes narrowing on yours and suddenly you’re speechless.

like all the words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat. you wanted to express how you wanted one last night with him, that the summer was over, and this was your last time together until next year. but you don’t find yourself saying that.

“there’s a beach party, did you want to go?”

you swallow the thick saliva in your throat. you suddenly feel like a little girl asking for your mom to extend your summer curfew. your fingers nervously toy with the loose ends of your shorts, your shoes anxiously tap against the creaking hard wood floor.

“I’m a little old for that.” he replies back turning to the book he’s snuck under the bed. you laugh, seeing it’s an identical copy to the one you’ve read each summer in cousins.

“its not even 8pm and you’re in bed reading? what a loser.” you scoff making him smile. it doesn’t happen often, the words you say only have the impact to make Steven or Jeremiah laugh, so this was a win. a smile was a win.

“what if I just want to spend time here with you?” he asks. the way his eyes shimmer under the nightstand light lure you in. how could you say no?

“it’s the last night of summer.” you say inching closer to the side of the his bed. you want to hang out with the people sitting in the car waiting for your arrival with him. but would you really skip the chance to have one last time alone?

his arm extends outward, finger tips grazing the back of your knee, “and?” he asks, head tilting upwards to look at you. he makes you swallow nervously. his stare turns butterflies in your stomach.

“and I want to spend it with you too.” you pull on his arm slightly, his weight too much for you to pull him upward out of bed, “so come join us will you? please?”

“alright, alright I’m coming.”

[theewritingroomm]

A Friendly Favor - Part 4

Summary: As his best friend you are required to help Eddie when he needs it. Especially for everything girl related, including helping him impress Chrissy Cunningham. The only down side… you are hopelessly in love with Eddie Munson.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader (platonic), mentions of Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham

Word Count: 1,046

Warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, swearing, mentions of unrequited feelings, angst,

A/N: If you asked to be tagged, I tried to tag y'all, those highlighted in blue I could not tag you.

I do NOT consent to my work being translated or published onto third party sites - including AO3 and Wattpad. 

Previous Part

It had been weeks since that night at Eddie’s. Weeks since you had told Eddie what you felt, weeks since you had talked to him at all, weeks since you had sat at the same lunch table as Eddie or attended a Hellfire meeting. It had been weeks since the last time you talked to Eddie and he seemed to be doing just fine. 

Eddie was still performing his theatrics in the hallways and in the cafeteria. He was still going toe-to-toe with Jason and his lackeys. But worst of all was all of the new things that Eddie seemed to be doing now that you were out of the picture. 

Now that you were not around to go to Hellfire meetings and sitting at the lunch table with the guys, Chrissy had taken up residence. She was the one sat next to Eddie laughing at the things that he did and said. She was the one who sat next him in the woods during his deals. She was the one who was sitting front row at the Hideout watching Eddie in his element. And the nail in the coffin for you was the fact that the pair were the talk of the school. There wasn’t a place you could go without hearing about Eddie and Chrissy and how cute the two were together. 

It made you want to scream. 

“Hey Y/N,” you heard from down the hall. Turning towards the voice you saw Dustin Henderson making his way towards you. 

It wasn’t that you had an issue with Dustin, quite the opposite actually. Since he had been coming to Hellfire meetings and hanging around Eddie he had quickly become your favorite newbie. He was funny and witty in a way that had your sides hurting from laughter most of the time. You and Eddie had adopted the boy as your younger brother rather quickly, hardly spending any time after school without the freshman. But since the incident with you and Eddie you had seen about as much of Dustin as you had of Eddie. 

You sighed as the boy got closer. Shutting your locker as he stopped next to you. Dustin had a smile on his face when you turned to him. But upon seeing the worn down expression on your face, the corners of his mouth dropped slightly. Dustin had grown fond of you in the time he had been friends with Eddie and seeing you upset was not something he particularly enjoyed. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his original question dying on his tongue.   

You looked down at the younger boy and shrugged. “I’m fine, as much as I can be.” 

“What does that mean? Is that why you haven’t been coming to Hellfire?” 

You shook your head, trying to clear the millions of racing thoughts that were swirling around in your head. The whole thing was so complicated that you weren’t sure how to even begin telling the younger boy what was wrong. 

“It’s a long story Dustin,” you turned away from the boy and began to walk down the hallway. 

You hoped that he wouldn’t follow you. Knowing that if he did you would end up breaking down and telling him what had happened between you and Eddie. And you could not guarantee that he would comfort you, for all you knew he was going to take Eddie’s side. Further cutting you off from the group of friends you had. 

“He’s taking her to prom.” Dustin exclaimed. Stopping you in your tracks as the words rang in your ears. 

You slowly turned to face the younger boy. Your heart heavy in your chest as you did, recalling how Eddie had shot down the idea of prom months ago when you had brought up wanting to go. He had claimed it would be too ‘conformist’ of him to go and it would go against everything that he believed in. you had accepted it back then, but now…. It hurt. 

“What?” the word got caught in your throat as it tightened with unshed tears. 

“He’s taking her to prom and I think it’s getting real serious.” Dustin tried again. He was hoping that it would get you out of the daze you were in. 

Again your heart clenched. It hurt to hear about how well Eddie and Chrissy were doing, especially when you were so far outside of the loop now. But you couldn’t blame anyone but yourself. 

You sighed, “Well that’s good for them. I hope they’re happy.” 

Finally you were able to walk away from Dustin. Tears welling in your eyes and falling as you rounded the corner to find solace in the first empty classroom that you saw. 

You were finally able to find a classroom. The lights were shut off and the door partially cracked. You listened for a moment, trying to see if anyone else had found the empty room and decided to take advantage of it. When you didn’t hear anything you slowly pushed the door open and finally felt comfortable enough to let the first stream of tears fall down your cheeks. 

As the door swung open and the light from the hallway filtered into the room. As you wiped the tears from your eyes you finally looked into the room. Thus, finally noticing that the room was previously occupied before you had found it. It was occupied by the two people who you were trying your hardest to get away from. 

Standing in the middle of the room, oblivious to the fact that the door had been opened were Eddie and Chrissy. Chrissy was sitting on the edge of a desk, caged in by Eddie leaning against her. They were locked in a passionate make out session, her hands making a mess of Eddie’s already wild curls and his hands were slowly making their way under her cheer skirt. 

The sight left you frozen in the doorway for a moment. Your mind was racing at the sight in front of you, cementing what you had heard from Dustin. It’s getting real serious. After another beat you quickly turned on your heel and ran. You ran down the hall and out a side door, no true destination in mind. You just needed to get away. 

TAGS: @wolfstarsimpxx @jaceblack @gloryekaterina @intoanothermind @vxmpfreak @girlsvvish @ogoc-19 @jisungxident @sunflowerabyss @athenxt @hannahbobama @aurumbelis @newbooksmell777 @izzyxplr @whisperingsarah @tlclick73 @k-1-ll-em-all @lokiofasgard616 @bibieddiesgf @stydia-4-ever @digital-charlie @rach5ive @sidthedollface2 @fckyeahlames @its-quinns-bread @tayhar811 @myrcellavonswartzschild @captainonaboat @venisvendetta @lail1010 @ajkamins @goldstars-to-all @harrys-tittie @phantomxoxo @adaydreamaway08 @angelina16torres-blog

[iloveau]

Hello!! I am absolutely in love with your works 😭🫶 are you able to do stalker!blade but the reader knows hes stalking and they take it to their advantage (if yk what i mean..;)) and fem reader pls!!

ANONNN thank you for the compliment lovely 💕🫣 you just awakened several of my exhausted brain cells with that request therefore I love you for this im giggling and kicking the bed rn stalker blade is so ✨🌟✨ I have a brief gist of what you mean, but I can’t guarantee if I captured what you wanted perfectly. It’s like 2am when I first saw this request but I was so motivated ok plus I was horny 🤩

𓂃⊹ BLADE, who watches your every move and yet, you somewhat enjoy it. 𓂃⊹ WARNINGS ; fem reader, I loved this request so much 🤩🤩🤩, stalker!blade, pornography mentioning, classic handsome stalker, you tease him, yandere themes, pleasuring yourself because he’s watching lol; blade gets very very jealous, MINORS DNI

BLADE, who‘s calculating and precise, tracking down your every footstep like a predator chasing its prey.

At first, you didn’t notice. He was like the shadows itself, lurking right behind your back, but when you turned around, it would vanish like a wisp. The point that you noticed that he’s watching your every move is when he made an extremely tiny slip-up on covering his tracks- when you got home, your closet door was open by a small crack. Normally you probably wouldn’t have noticed, but you did thanks to the vibrant colored shirt you received as a gift (you never wore it because it was too bright, so it’s just hanging out in the closet for a couple of months now..) which was peeking behind the closet. Its sunny yellow diverted your attention to the suspicious sight. that’s weird… you thought to yourself, you had a suspicion someone had broken into your house. The handle was also shaking back and forth slightly. That was all you needed to know that someone was definitely inside your house right now, and it wasn’t long ago since they opened the closet. But you stayed calm, because you bet the stalker would be alerted if they knew you had noticed their presence. So with a shrug you open the closet and find clothes to dress into to get to sleep. When you opened your lingerie drawer, one or two of your panties were missing, too, which further highlighted and confirmed your final suspicions. What a pervert. You thought, but you wanted to try to provoke your stalker some more, curious of how they would react or not act at all. Nonchalantly, you stretch and slowly take off your clothes one by one. A sea-green sweater falls to the floor. Then your shorts, and you make sure you take it off gradually, so the fabric drags across your skin. You were sure he was watching. And your guess was correct- he indeed was, his lustful eyes taking in the very sight through a small crack in your wall. He’s filming this, it’s so.. it’s so simply holy for him, bliss bubbles through his body as he muffles his moans with one hand, his bulge hardening every time your delicate hands drag the fabric around. By the time you finally get to sleep, he returns to his hideout and watches the unbelievably gorgeous sight he had captured, pleasuring himself with his hard, angry cock rubbing against your panties he stole.

BLADE, who can’t bear to see you with another man, even though he’s never been with you either.

The man irked him. Whoever it was who kept talking to you, picking you up from your work, it pissed him off. Sometimes he would even ditch his work as a Stellaron Hunter to track you down, and see who you were meeting. Who you smiled at. This time it was another man, he was laughing and leaning forward to listen to your lovely voice. He would be just bare moments before slicing the male into tiny bits, he restrained himself by looking at your dazzling smile that just so easily calms him down. Even your smile doesn’t have the power to ease down his simmering hatred though. He keeps a predatory eye out on both of you and watch the man next to you attempt to flirt, you laugh and jokingly flirt back. Upon seeing this, the only thing he can do to restrain himself now is to hurt his already weakened skin, practically clawing at his own arms. When the man finally bids you goodbye is when he hunts him down. The next day when you fall the man, he doesn’t pick up- so you just assumed he didn’t want to talk to you, unbeknownst about the fact that the man was sprawled carelessly inside a dumpster, cuts littering across his skin, lifeless eyes gazing up.

BLADE, who can’t withstand your teasing and succumbs.

It’s been a while since you’ve teased your stalker, but because nothing really changed, for you at least, you wanted to provoke him even more. This time with nothing on, you lean down on the mattress and spread open your glistening pussy, inserting your own fingers into them with a sweet little whimper. You thumb yourself feeling your wetness wrap itself around your digits. Each moan you escalate it, growing louder and whinier as you throw your head back to let out your celestial noises. Your legs tremble cutely, lewd squirting noises echoing through the room. That was the final straw for blade. He can no longer restrain himself- and just as you’re about to insert your fingers in to hit another orgasm, you feel cold hands firmly grasp your wet ones, the sticky substance smearing over the black gloves. Your heartbeat starts to race out of anticipation and fear as well- you could feel his hot breath that’s unsteady and ragged on your ear, and you also felt his big hands slide to your needy hole, touch rough and desperate to feel you at last. ”fuck, you pretty whore… you don’t know when to stop, do you?”

[saltsicklover]

Title: The Weather

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,160

Rating: PG13 - FLUFF

Warnings: Swearing

Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky Barnes, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

It took James Barnes three months to speak more than a 'hello' and an appointment time to the beautiful woman that sits behind the front desk in Dr. Raynor's stuffy office. She is the opposite of Dr. Raynor, her edges are still soft, her soul not bared to the world- covered in blood and devoid of sacrifice and suffering. 

At first, James found her intriguing. The way she sat, stick straight, attention always on her work. Her hair was never quite perfect, a sweet halo of frizz adorning her head, complimenting the way her eyes seemed to always crinkle at the corners whenever she would smile at him.  She would always smile at him while keeping her hands busy with paperwork, tucking loose pages into files- paperclips, pens, and highlighters strewn around her desk. 

Every day he talked himself up in the mirror and then again on the train, saying that today would be the day he would speak to her, finally catch her name, maybe even give her a real reason to smile- something more than just being customer service friendly. She's the one thing that seems to radiate positivity and light in the near desolate office he visits once a week. 

Today it is raining, somewhere between pouring and deluge and Bucky trails a small creek into the office with him. The water streaks down his face, hair sticking to his forehead. Droplets race down his leather clad body, pelting the tile floor. 

"Good morning, Mr. Barnes," The dame behind the desk speaks, her voice like fresh honey and it washes a tidal wave of warmth over Bucky. He shivers, goosebumps breaking out over his skin. Bucky is clammy and cold to the touch but it doesn't seem to bother him. The wet droplets that roll off his body don't either. Finally, the women looks up at Bucky, a bit of shock rolls over he features before before it's replaced with a chuckle and her signature smile, eyes crinkling but still shinning under the florescent lights. "Looks like that storm's gotten pretty bad since I got in this morning," She comments, standing up from her chair to greet him, "Don't you own an umbrella?" 

Bucky can't help the laugh that escapes his lips, deep and full like the sweetest expresso she's ever tasted. Her body buzzes from the sound, joy vibrating under her skin at the change in his usually stony demeanor. The furrow of his brow is lessoned now, a smile threatening to pull at his lips, but his expression remains neutral. Yet, somehow, it's like a smile had reached his eyes with the way he look at her.

"Oh, you know, didn't think I'd need one but the weather really took a turn and now I'm swimming in my boots," He almost laughs, almost, the squelching sound of his boots and the harmony of the squeaking floor with each step he takes towards the desk makes him feel the most on display he has in years. The full tooth smile she gives him makes it worth it. "I have an 11:30 with Dr. Raynor."

"I've already got you all checked in, but," his confidence faulters a bit, as does her smile, "Dr. Raynor was called into an emergency meeting this morning, about an hour ago, and she still isn't back yet. She called to let me know that she is on her way, and she wanted me to ask you to wait. So, if you could take a seat and hang out, that would be lovely," She rambles a bit, spinning one of the many rings she wears on her delicate fingers. She plays with the large gem, spinning the band round and round as if she could twirl her anxiety away with each revolution of the silver band. 

 "Yeah, uhh-" Bucky stutters a bit, brushing back his bangs then attempting to flick the water off of his fingers with the shake of his wrist, "I can wait, definitely." He nods at her like he has any other choice, and she nods back, the awkwardness of the whole scenario becoming more palpable with each tick of the clock. 

She sits back down too, after a moment, tucking her skirt under her backside with a quick motion before she turns back to the paperwork in front of her. The only sounds in the room are the light piano music playing over the speakers, almost too quiet for the average person to hear, and the clicking of the keyboard as she types. Bucky can almost hear her breathing, if he strains to listen, the small breathes pushing past her lips and then back in. 

Bucky watches as she works, her tongue poking out of her mouth from between her lips as she concentrates. His heart flutters at the sight, and he thinks he might pass away right then and there when she drags her bottom lip between her teeth. 

He watches the clock too. It hangs on the plain wall behind her, and the minutes seem to tick by slower and slower with each passing glance. But time seems to stand still as he watches her tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He notices the diamonds and pearls decorating her ear, a site he isn't quite used to yet but still finds intriguing. The idea that someone might purposefully stab themselves to then adorn their bodies is something he finds perplexing and she finds irresistible. 

"Hey, can I ask you somethin'?" Bucky finally breaks the silence, the clicking of her keyboard slowly dissipating. She flashes that grin of hers at him and he melts. 

"What's up, Mr. Barnes?" She stands to look him in the eye over her computer. He sits in the waiting area, off to the side of her desk. He plays with the cuffs of his coat, fingering at the zippers and tugging at the fabric. 

"I just realized, I've been coming here for a while now and it has never occurred to me to ask you your name," She laughs a bit at him, one of those small laughs that comes from the back of the throat. She gives him her name and it gently falls from her lips like it's the easiest thing in the world and he decides that it is. Bucky repeats her name back, it's liquid sugar on his tongue- he wears a shy smile now, the rest of his body useless, like he's been zipped into a body bag as his mind spins. 

The rain is turning to hail, the small bits of ice pinging off of the windows, echoing though out the office. The lights flicker, off, on, then back off, leaving them sitting in the dark. Bucky tenses, his hands tightening around the arms of his chair as his companion lets out a huff in irritation. 

"Well, so much for getting any sort of work done now," She grumbles, pushing herself away from the desk. She moves around her desk, but not carefully enough. A low smack, the sound of bone hitting wood is heard throughout the room, and so are the swear words and grumblings that leave her lips. 

"Are you okay, doll?" Bucky asks too quickly, jumping to his feet. 

"Oh yeah, I'm- I'm just great. My knee just wanted to make friends with the corner of my desk, that's all," She informs him, rubbing her sore knee with her hands. She moves to sit in front of her desk, making home on the floor, her back pressed against the wood. Bucky tries to make out her form in the dark, but he can barely see her from where he stands. He pulls his cellphone out, clicking the flashlight on to illuminate the room. He places it on the floor, nudging it with the toe of his boot so it sits between them. 

She offers him a quiet thank you, devoid of a smile. 

"Can I ask you something, now? The way I see it, it's my turn," Bucky hums in approval, "What's going on in that head of yours?" Bucky is thrown by the question and it hangs in the stale air. "Let me rephrase, because I'm not asking about the shit you come here to talk to Dr. Raynor about. What do you think about when you're not avenging or chitchatting with the good doctor?" 

Bucky's thoughts flash through his mind quickly, the nightmares and the amends he has left to make. He thinks about Steve, and he thinks about Sam. He thinks about the community Sam has built with his family and the way they take care of each other. He thinks about how he lacks all of that. The family, the community, the honor. But mostly, he thinks about her and the way her eyes crinkle and that one time her hair was braided back and the way he could see her whole face for the very first time. 

"I like the weather," He says simply, sitting himself down on the floor to meet her level. 

"The weather?" She asks him, leaning towards him curiously. 

Specks of dust flutter through the air, visible only through the glow of the flashlight. Each speck seems to dance in the tension around them, her question going unanswered for a few beats before he sighs in an attempt to relieve the strain building in his ribcage. 

"Yeah, the weather. It seems to be the only thing I really understand anymore. That, and I like the rain," He concludes with a hand tugging through the mess of hair atop his head. He can't tell her that the sun doesn't come close to shining as bright as she does, so he settles with liking the rain. It seems more than honest. She tries to hold back a giggle at his answer. The causal air of it and the simplicity of the choice he has made. She doesn't push the topic further, not truly believing that he often thinks of the weather. But she knows better than to challenge the fact. 

Maybe if they were in a different universe, or following a different timeline. One that they may be able to reach out in and dust their fingertips over if it weren't for the fabric of space time holding them firmly in place. Maybe, one universe over, just to the left of where they sit now, they are still sitting together, but not on the floor of a government sanctioned medical facility, but in a cafe. 

They sit together, knees touching underneath the small bistro table in the corner of the cramped cafe. He calls her 'sunshine', because she is. She calls him 'lover', and he hates it in the way to say that he has never loved being called something more. 

Their fingers are intertwined on the table top, not caring who sees them together. Bucky would be drinking coffee, something with actual flavor because he would actually let himself enjoy it. She still drinks black coffee because it makes her soul feel at home.  They both wear genuine smiles, talking and laughing, enjoying each other's company. Definitely somewhere between date fifteen and twenty, planning their lives side by side but not yet together. 

In the timeline on their right they are together, in their apartment. Sunny, that's what he calls her there, is painting the walls sage green. James, sits in the middle of the room attempting to build a coffee table that they purchased from IKEA earlier that week. He grumbles about missing pieces, rummaging through the little plastic baggies and Sunny just laughs at him. 

She walks over and dabs a bit of the paint on his nose; both of their faces end up covered in green by the time they are done locking lips. They lay on the floor, surrounded by half finished projects, completely head over heels in love with one another. 

She has no idea about the ring he has hidden in his sock drawer, or the way his heart beats just a little bit faster every time she goes into that drawer to steal a pair of his socks just because she claims they are more comfortable than her own. He really needs to find a new hiding spot, but he has been so caught up in the life they are creating he really hasn't bothered to think of a better place. 

There is another universe about an arms length away where they are meeting for the first time. One where Bucky is quicker to forgive himself and more gentle with his own soul, with himself. She hasn't been given a nickname here, at least not yet. They cross paths on the train- she is stepping off and Bucky steps on. Their knuckles graze over each other, both turning to whisper an apology just as the doors shut. 

They lock eyes and Bucky offers her a kind smile, one that has come easy to him for years now. She offers a small smile in return, one that is much more shy and reserved than the one she has just received. Just then, the train begins to pull away, their lives once again headed in separate directions. 

She watches as the train pulls away, eyes still on the brunet, feet planted firmly in place. Bucky starts walking towards the back of the train, eyes still fixed on the woman who holds his attention like a vice. When he finally makes it to the end of the train, he is left with nothing to do but offer her a wave and a smile. She returns it in kind. 

But here and now they sit in the darkness, a storm raging outside, leaving them trapped inside with nothing but each others company and the glow of the flashlight between them. Neither one has been brave enough to speak for a little while. They have made themselves comfortable on the floor and in the shared silence. 

Bucky can't help but think about how beautiful she is. The way that she lights up the room with nothing more than her presence. He mulls over the fact that he took so long to talk to her, and the tightness in his chest seems to linger the longer he beats himself up for it. He twiddles with his fingers, fidgeting where he sits. He is almost dry now but his boots are still soaked through, squelching when he moves. She pretends not to notice it, stifling a laugh with the heel of her hand pressed firmly against her lips. 

"I think I'm going to call you Solntse," He says absentmindedly, more to himself and maybe the room than to her directly. "Yeah, Solntse, it suits you."

"What does that mean, Mr. Barnes?" Solntse questions him, peering through the harsh beam of the flashlight. 

"It means sun. It's Russian. And please, call me Bucky, or hell, I'll even take James, but please quit calling me Mr. Barnes," He speaks candidly, rubbing over his face with his flesh hand. He pulled off his gloves a few minutes ago, the action going unnoticed. 

"Okay, Bucky. Russian sun it is," Solntse chuckles, crossing her ankles out in front of her. 

"That is, if you don't mind- I guess I should've asked first," Bucky attempts to backtrack, fumbling over his words as the embarrassment wells inside him. A blush begins to bloom over Solntse's face and neck, a raspberry hue covering her skin. 

"I don't mind, Buck, truly. Plus they say you can't pick your own nickname. It goes against the whole point of having a nickname," She chuckles, a smile spread wide across her face as the pink tint begins to fade. She doesn't know what comes over her but she crawls over to Bucky, plopping herself down in the spot next to him. Bucky can't help the way his heart quickens at he movements, the proximity of her body to his and the scent of her perfume make him dizzy. 

They sit next to each other like that for a while, the silence taking over again. It's not too long after they are plunged back into darkness, the flashlight in front of them shutting off without warning. The sudden darkness catches Solntse by surprise, causing her to jump and let out a little yip of surprise. She grabs onto Bucky, hands wrapping around his metal arm, squeezing tightly. It all happens in a split second; each party feeling a complete and sudden shift in the air around them. 

They turn to face one another, noses almost brushing. Solntse can feel the deep blush burning on her skin again, the heat taking over her senses. Bucky lets a small chuckle escape him. It sounds full and comforting, even if it is at her own expense. 

"You're safe, doll, I've got you," Bucky whispers, pulling her as close as he can in their current position. Solntse can feel the way his fingertips dip into her flesh, the feeling grounding her in the moment, to him and his closeness. She squeezes him back. 

"Thank you," She whispers, voice barely audible. A smirk slips onto Bucky's slips and it goes unnoticed by Solntse until she leans forwards and closes the gap between them. The movement is clumsy in the dark, their noses bumping together at first. 

The kiss is slow and sweet, lips mingling together as if they have a thousand times before- and they have in the universes that surround them. The way their lips move together is not new to the universes else where, and neither is the way Bucky moves to pull her into his lap, her knees finding purchase on either side of his thighs. He tangles his hands in her hair the same way he always has and always will. She pulls at the lapels of his jacket all the same. The newness of it all sparking tingles beneath their fingertips, reverberating all over their bodies and the way they mingle together in this place, in this now. 

She pulls back from his lips, just mere millimeters, far enough to cause a small whimper to leave Bucky. "I think about the weather too," She confesses, the meaning just as deep to her as it had been to him, even if he thought she hadn't originally picked up on that fact. 

"Let me take you somewhere, anywhere you want to go. Coffee, food, drinks, hell I'll take you anywhere, just say the word," He almost pleads, but the words come out more smooth than needy. 

"I have a shift to finish, and you still have an appointment, but you can pick me up from my place tonight," She punctuates her sentence with a brush of her lips against his, "And you can take me to get a pizza and beer on draft and we can talk more."

"About the weather?" He questions her, smirk across his lips. 

"Yes, about the weather." She confirms just before closing the gap between them again. 

[ferrariprince16]

CALVI-AUGUST - "I'll be hanging around between Monaco, Corsica and Sardinia with my loved ones and my friends", said the Ferrari driver, the Monegasque Charles Leclerc - at the end of the Belgian GP on July 30th, speaking of his plans for the Formula 1 summer break. Here he is in Corsica, to be exact in Calvi (one of his all time favorite summer destinations), where he rented a house with some friends. And the group also includes Alexandra Saint Mleux, the beautiful girl who made the pilot's heart beat again after the >>>

THE FERRARI DRIVER (NEXT TO A MILLIONAIRE CONTRACT RENEWAL) IN CORSICA WITH ALEXANDRA SAINT MLEUX, THE ART HISTORY STUDENT WHO WON HIS HEART

Calvi (Corsica). Charlos Leclerc, 25 years old, with his new girlfriend Alexandra Saint Mleux (full name: Alexandra Malena Saint Mleux), 21. In the next page: ton op, the two tenderly embraced; below, with friends in the water.

WITH ALEXANDRA IT'S NOT A CRUSH

>>> breakup (consensual and announced by both with a story on Instagram at the end of last year) with his historic girlfriend Charlotte Siné.

Between games in the sea and affectionate hugs and kisses to his Alexandra, now the driver has definitively formalized the new bond, which in recent months was surrounded with a veil of secrecy, protecting the first moments of this love that was being born. So much that there is not much news of Alexandra herself. It is known that she was born in France on June 19 2001 (she has 21 years old), her full name is Alexandra Malena Saint Mleux, that she grew up in Monte Carlo (in the same circles as the Ferrari driver) and that she studies History and Art. She seems to have Italian and Argentine ancestry (Alexandra speaks four languages: French, English, Italian and Spanish). Just as it is known that she had a Tik Tok page with 73,000 followers where she, in addition to talking about herself and her travels, she posted about art. But then this page disappeared (after her dating with Leclerc became more and more public)*. There is only her personal profile on Instagram (which is private) and an Instagram page that she dedicate to arts (with the name of @alexandramalenart)

*Alexandra reactived her TikTok account just today

And it was precisely through social media that the Ferrari driver's fans were the first to notice the bond that was emerging between him and Alexandra, just as they had learned of the end of his relationship - which lasted three years with Siné via Instagram (a love story that had been particularly loved by all of them). In fact, the social source states that on Friday January 20th Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mleux had started following each other on Tik ok, but after about an hour he chosen to make his following list private. Thus, since February, online rumors about this have begun to spread of a possible new love story. In the following months, the relationships come out. The first public outing was in May, during the week of the Monaco GP, the two of them were spotted together a charity football match organised by Prince Albert and in the Ferrari paddock. Where also arrives the Sinè, who remained in excellent condition. In the following months, relationships with her ex. It's then on Twitter starts to be noted the incredible similarity: the physics between the two women. And between the fans there are also those who regret the previous of the driver (and maybe someone still believe they can go back together). But then is the turn of the British GP

A special cover and a king's watch

Calvi (Corsica). Charles Leclerc holding the his phone with a personalized cover (you can log in, highlighted in the roundel "Go Charles with a little heart"). The driver is wearing a Richard Mille titanium watch worth 250,000 euros.

Leclerc and the Saint Mleux during the bath in the sea based on looks, hugs and games. Beautiful and young, the two lovers seem unable to tear themselves away from each other.

BEAUTIFUL, IN LOVE AND INSEPARABLE

at Silverstone, in the beginning of July, where Alexandra returns to be seen next to Leclerc. And finally the official announcement on July 10, during a match in the Wimbledon tennis tournament. Seated in the grandstand are Charles Leclerc and his friend and Alpine colleague Pierre Gasly; with them Kika Gomes, the model 20-year-old Portuguese who has been officially dating Gasly for over a year, and Alexandra Saint Mleux. For everyone, this is the definitive confirmation that Alexandra is the girl who has won the heart of the pilot, who just a few days earlier had declared in an interview that he «has a new relationship» (but without specifying the name of the new partner).

And, now, the images of outing of this vacation in Corsica dispel any residual doubts. Meanwhile the driver is enjoying his carefree summer, there is already talking about a possibile millionaire renew with Ferrari: a 5 years contract, with the particular clauses of 2+3 (which means with clauses of a possibile exit onlyr after the two-year period 2025-2026) with a total of 185 million euros. But about this wil be talked about probably after the summer break. For now the driver is enjoying holidays and... love.

this is my translation if u take this pls credit me, and any mistakes are mine. pls forgive me for any typos.

[lila-lou]

✨Needy - Pt. 2 ✨

Summary: Just as Jensen arrived back home, he got a call that didn't exactly put you both in a good mood

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, pregnant reader, somewhat depressing but pretty “cute” at the end

Word Count: 1391

A/N: This is part 2 of "Needy"

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

“What do you mean you need me?!”.

Jensen’s raised voice caught your attention. You didn't know what was going on, but you could hear his roar all the way to the class enclosed patio, where you sat, even though the door was closed. After putting your hot chocolate aside, you turned to face the glass door, which led inside. Your fiancé paced back and forth. His mouth kept opening, but he said nothing. He wanted to, you could see that in his body language. Jensen was fucking pissed. His free hand was clenched into a fist and hanging at hip level.

“(y/n) is pregnant! It's chaos at the airport because of the snowstorm and I'm damn exhausted! I barely slept and I haven’t even been home for 24 hours!”.

“Shit“, you muttered to yourself, your hand unconsciously sliding to your baby bump. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't really do anything against your hormone-controlled body, which is why your eyes were glassy before the first tear ran down your cheek.

“Fuck, Yes! I got it“, Jensen shouted into his phone before throwing it on the sofa and rubbing his face vigorously. He just stood there for a while before pulling himself together and slowly walking towards you.

“Hey“, you whispered quietly as he crouched down in front of you. His hands reached for yours and gently pulled you a little closer to him.

“You have to go again, right?”. Your voice was barely audible and you had to control yourself not to cry straight away.

Jensen just nodded and gave you a kiss on the back of your right hand before letting go of your hands and gently pushing your thighs apart. Before you could even ask what he was doing, he rested his head on your belly without saying anything. The two of you stayed like that for quite a while before Jensen spoke up. “I’m so sorry (y/n). I know it wasn't planned that way“, he murmured without lifting his head.

When you both found out you were pregnant, you talked about everything for quite a long time. What your future together will look like, how your and his professional situation would affect your life and the baby‘s life and much more. Jensen had promised you that he would be home for most of your pregnancy. You were now in your fifth month and he had been with you for a maximum of 3 weeks.

“It’s okay“, you whispered, stroking his hair gently. Of course you were disappointed and wanted to hide under some sheets and cry, but you couldn’t do anything against the situation. It wasn't Jensen's fault.

"No it's not! Now I’m missing another doctor’s appointment!”, he hissed and stood up again.

„Oh… You have to leave immediately?”, you asked, dispirited. Jensen nodded. “Yeah… Antony sprained his ankle earlier and in order not to waste too much filming time, my scenes should be filmed in the meantime. I should plan on three weeks“. His deep breath only emphasized how angry he was about the whole situation.

When Jensen saw your tears streaming down your cheeks, he couldn't take it anymore. “I’m going to pack“, he murmured, giving you a kiss on the head and disappearing into the house. When he was out of sight , you were just crying and sobbing. It all became too much for and you just felt alone.

About 4 hours later you were lying on the examination table at your gynecologist. Even though you were so excited about today's appointment, you were anything but happy now.

“Everything looks great. The baby is well developed so far and I could even tell the gender. Do you want to know?". The question hurt, even if you tried not to let it show too much.

The situation only highlighted how difficult it was to have a relationship with an actor. “Next time please“, you smiled softly. You wanted Jensen to be there with you, when you find out the gender.

Sometime around 2am, your phone woke you up from your sleep.

It was Jensen.

"Hey. How you doing?“, you yawned softly.

“Well. I had barely arrived before I had to go to set. I couldn't even unpack“. You heard Jensen sigh. He was probably even more tired than you.

„Did I wake you up?", he asked in a worried voice.

“It's okay, Jay. I fell asleep on the couch. If you hadn't called, my back would have killed me in the morning”.

You sat up slowly, muted the TV and turned on the lights. The two of you talked for a while about today's doctor's appointment until Jensen had to go back to filming.

For the next three weeks you did your best to think positively. In contrast to usual, Jensen had hardly called you and only texted very rarely. You thought that things on set got messy again , so you didn't want to get on his nerves. Your rib was fine again and the morning sickness was now completely gone.

“Thanks, Jared. I don’t know what I would do without you”, you lightly stroked his upper arm as he placed the last package in the children’s room. Your garage was damaged by another snowstorm this morning and since the floor was flooded, the furniture for the children's room that was still packed in cardboard, had to be removed.

“You don't need to thank me (y/n). Any news from Ackles?”, he looked down at you sympathetically. “No… actually he was supposed to land 4 hours ago”, you mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Oh, he’s probably coming any minute,”. Jared patted your shoulder and smiled softly at you.

“I have to go. Gen is already waiting. If you need anything, just text me. See you around”.

So you were alone again, like you had been for the last few days. On days like these, it really bothered you that your family lived in Seattle. Of course you had already found one or two friends in Austin and most of Jensen's friends were very nice to you, but it was just something different.

In the evening, you leaned next to the oven in the kitchen, only wearing one of Jensen's shirts. Your last tray of cookies was in the oven. Baking was something you only did when you were beyond bored or Christmas was just around the corner. In this case it was both.

When your timer went off, you carefully removed the baking sheet from the oven and set it aside. Your eyes returned to the clock. You slowly became worried. Just as you reached for your phone to call Jensen, you felt two large and heavy arms wrap around your body from behind.

“Fuck, baby. Those were the worst three weeks of my life”, Jensen grumbled into the crook of your neck where his face was buried.

“Finally”, you whispered and leaning yourself into his embrace.

Jensen and you just stood there for a few minutes. Your back leaning against his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around you. But after a while, Jensen slid his hand down your stomach and into your pants.

“Jay!”, you giggled, grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand back.

You turned around in his arms, raised an eyebrow and looked at him challengingly. “Maybe a kiss first? Or at least a simple Hello?”.

You could feel the blush rising to your face when you saw Jensen's grin. “So you want a proper welcome, don’t you?”, he grinned and raised an eyebrow as well.

“You fucking bet”, you replied cheekily, placing both palms on his chest. “You left me alone for three weeks again. There has to be something more to it than just a quickie to blow some steam off”, you added.

“Hmm…what's on your mind then?”, he licked his lips, reached under your ass and lifted you onto the kitchen counter with a firm and quick tug.

Before you knew it, he pressed himself between your legs and looked into your eyes. “You want me on my knees? Begging for forgiveness?”, he grinned.

[ladykailitha]

Star Child 16

And it’s done. Holy freaking shit, guys. I can’t believe it. It’s done. Thank you so much to everyone who commented, reblogged and liked this story. I’m so happy for the response it’s gotten and I will personally miss this little story.

Steve gets his happily ever after

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

***

Steve and Luke were in the studio within days of their meeting and it took everything in Steve’s power not to giggle uncontrollably every time they agreed on something.

Soon they managed to hash out a really great song that Steve would feature on but it would be The Struts playing. Hell, even though it would be a non-album single Steve was still over the moon.

Suddenly Steve was in a room with all of the members of the band and he had to squeal into a pillow after they left. Because holy shit, this was his life now.

He was also grateful the distraction it supplied. He missed Eddie. Like a gaping wound, but this allowed him to concentrate on something other then the overwhelming loneliness he felt.

It took them three weeks to get the song recorded and they talked about when it should be released. Steve of course wanted to release it now, but cooler heads prevailed and it would be released in a couple of months toward the end of summer.

It would give the buzz around Steve’s coming out time to die down and give Steve more time to record his own songs and release one of the solo songs first. So that fans got a taste of Steve’s style without someone else.

It made sense. But Steve was still a little bummed that it wouldn’t come out for a while.

The final night of recording Steve went out with The Struts and had a good time. With invitations for Steve to hang out with them in London if he was ever in town.

*

Steve was practically vibrating out of his skin.

“Can you please breathe?” Robin asked as she applied eyeliner to her eyes. “What I’m doing over here is dangerous and I swear you’re going to start bouncing around the room.”

Steve ran his fingers through his hair again and sat down hard on the bed. He flopped backwards, arms out spread. “I get to see Eddie for the first time in five weeks and time is deliberately standing still.”

She tsked at him and finished her makeup. She went over to the bed and kicked his foot.

He sat up and looked her up and down. She was wearing a blue button up with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows with a plaid vest and matching tie. She wore baggy slacks over sexy heels and her hair and makeup were artfully messy.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Looking good, Robs. Chrissy is going to faint.”

Robin giggled. “I hope not, I don’t think I would be able to catch her in these heels.”

Steve cocked his head and then nodded. “Fair enough.”

She reached over and played with a strand of his hair. “I still can’t believe Eddie gave you the go ahead to chop off it all off.”

He laughed. “I didn’t chop it all off. I just shaved the sides. It’s just as long as it’s always been on top. Add some fun blond highlights, and I think it looks great.”

Robin smiled. “And it does, honest. I just would have thought that Eddie would have put up more of a fight over it, considering how long his hair is.”

“Now that is a no go,” Steve said firmly. “He’s not allowed to have it shorter than his shoulders. He pulled his hair back once so that he could write with it wet and he looked like a completely different person, Robs. It was freaky.”

Robin laughed. “Whereas you look hot regardless of length?”

“Exactly!” he said with a big grin. “Now help me decide what to wear. I don’t want to go full metal, my fans might murder me.”

Robin winced. As referenced by the social media meltdown when he showed up in videos from the Salt Lake City concert. There was so much hate about him selling out (which, you know weird flex considering it’s usually selling out was in the opposite direction), and how he was clearly trying to get into Eddie’s pants. It was brutal.

In fact the Corroded Coffin fans seemed to be more welcoming and friendly. Telling him how awesome it was that he came out and that he could be himself. But then as Steve was slowly learning, metal fans tended to only looked mean.

So he decided to combine his former look with his boyfriend’s metal style. He wore a black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off with chunky bracelets on his wrists. But instead of tight black jeans and combat boots, Steve wore baggy white trousers and black sneakers. Combined with his new hair style and Eddie’s lucky guitar pick hanging from his neck, he felt confident in his look for the first time since he started performing.

Robin eyed him critically, circling him, like a shark scenting blood in the water.

“Good job!” she said with a thumbs up.

Steve laughed. “Did I pass the Robin test?”

“It looks good,” she said. “And if they give you hell, point them my direction.”

Steve nodded. He bounced up and down on his toes. Syking himself up. He waved his arms and wrists, trying to loosen up tense muscles. He began his breathing exercises and then his vocal warm ups.

“You ready for this?” Robin asked.

Steve nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Go get him, tiger!”

*

Eddie loved performing in front of massive crowds. He couldn’t get enough it. He loved the energy and high he got from the screaming mases. And there was only one thing he loved more than the fans, more than his own band even.

Steve Harrington.

“It’s our last concert and you know we like to go out big,” Eddie said into the microphone. “When we started this tour, we thought it was going to be like any other. Play to sellout crowds, whether that was bars or stadiums. Have fun with my best friends doing what we love.”

The crowd roared, cheering and stomping their feet.

“But as awesome as the highs were,” Eddie continued. “I feel we have to acknowledge the lows. That club with the horrible management and our getaway to the park so we could still play.”

The crowd booed.

“They sucked!” Gareth growled into his microphone.

The crowd cheered back.

“The rain in Seattle.”

The crowd stomped their feet.

“What’s a little soaking between friends, anyway?” Jeff asked.

The crowd roared.

“The fiasco in Austin and beyond!” Eddie said.

The crowd got angry as chant was taken up, “Fuck Creel!”

“That’s right!” Brian screamed. “Fuck Creel!”

“But we made it through,” Eddie finished, “because we have the best fans in the world!”

If the crowd had roared before, it was nothing to deafening thunder that came reply.

“So as thank you, we’ve got a little treat for you all,” Eddie said over the howl of the crowd. “Steve Harrington!”

Who from what Eddie could see was waiting in the wings, liking like sex itself.

The crowd went absolutely feral. There were screams and whistles as Eddie smiled.

“We’re going to do a little song that brought me the best six weeks of my life,” Eddie explained.

Steve came out and waved. “Hello, LA!”

“Hello, Stevie!” the crowd shouted back.

“Come on,” Steve said with a giggle. “You can do better than that!”

“Hello, Stevie!” they roared back.

“You guys are the best!” Steve said.

The music started and the crowd howled.

Then Steve growled out the first line and it was absolute pandemonium.

But instead of being on the opposite ends of the stage like they were in Indy, they started in the middle and were practically all over each other. And then when it was time for the guitar solo, Eddie handed his guitar over to Steve and he let it rip. Just shredded away.

It got so quiet that the only sound was Steve playing like he was born to rock.

So when the solo ended and Steve handed the guitar back to Eddie, Eddie growled. “Steve Harrington, everyone!”

They finished out the rest of the song and then kissed.

“Hi, beautiful,” Eddie said once they had broken off the kiss.

“Hey-ya, Eds,” Steve murmured back with a smile on his face.

“Tell all the wonderful people about what’s been going on with you,” Eddie prompted.

Steve blushed. “After winning a large settlement from my record label I have set up a charity for young LGBTQ+ artists that if they find themselves in a situation like I was, they have someone to turn to. It will have lawyers, counselors, and resources for getting out of abusive homes with living arrangements and a small stipend to help them pay bills as they get back on their feet.”

The crowd cheered.

“There won’t be an exclusion of genres either,” Steve continued. “There is as much queerphobia in country and rap as there is in pop and rock. We want to be able to reach as many people as we can. And while it is mainly for youths, no one of any age will be turned away.”  

Again the crowd cheered.

“I’ve also been in the studio writing and recording my new album,” Steve went on.

More cheering.

“And I’ve got a couple of surprises coming for you all,” he said. “Not the least of which is collaboration with these boys.”

The crowd ate it up, stomping and screaming.

“I said in Indy that my greatest dream was to perform with Corroded Coffin,” he continued. “And while crossing that off my bucket list was no small feat, the thought of making music with them, not just Eddie, who I absolutely am in love with, just blows my mind. But these are some of the best in the business and making friends with them and being able to write and perform as song with them? Beyond my wildest imagination.”

“Flattery absolutely works on us, man,” Jeff said in his microphone.

Steve blushed. “Oh, you guys have no idea. That was me dialing back on my enthusiasm. I’ve been your biggest fan for years.”

“Oh no,” Brian said into Jeff’s mic, “we know. And we’re happy to have gotten to know the real you over the last couple of months.”

“Really digging the new look, Stevie,” Jeff agreed.

The crowd whistled their agreement.

Steve grinned.

It had been one hell of a journey. But he’d made it. He was in love with the first boy he ever kissed. He was making the music he loved for the first time in his life. He was out as bisexual. His label and parents were facing criminal charges. And his best friend was going on a date with the girl of her dreams.

If someone had come up to Steve two months ago and told him he would be here with Eddie in front of an adoring crowd, his life changed for the better? He would have laughed himself sick. Good things didn’t happen to Steve Harrington. Not like that.

But it had. And things were only going to get better. He was so happy, he did the only thing he could think of.

He kissed Eddie senseless.

“So did I leave up to the hype, sunshine?” he asked, away from the mic.

Eddie smiled. “You blew my expectations out of the water, sweetheart.”

***

Here’s the meta I wrote for it when I started writing the story and the extra scene that showed what happened that night at Steve’s ten years before the story started.

Tag List: @eboyawstenn @moonshadows-13 @ohlook-afrog @bookbinderbitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @linkydinky06 @livelaughlexa @spectrum-spectre @cutepumpkin4 @whatthemeepever @gleek4twd @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @novelnovella @celtrose-ish @artiststarme @plasticcrotches  @anaibis @failedstarsandgoldenclouds  @nelotegreitic @steddieassheg0es  @yes-im-your-mom  @abstractnaturaldisaster @scheodingers-muppet @tiny-enthusiast @thegingerrapunzel @milf-harrington @raisedbylibrarians @reverseteehee @lillys-weird-world @deadlydodos @runyousillydetective  @fiore-della-valle   @justrandomfandomstm @piebook67 @clumsywriter @donttouchmycarrots  @idkareallyreallygoodname @ellietheasexylibrarian @localgaydisaster @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @imfinereallyy  @maya-custodios-dionach @child-of-cthulhu @estrellami-1 @lillithhellfire @nerdsconquerall @space-invading-pigeon @avacrebs @ravenpainter @gregre369

[tafeekafee]

⏳🧸 I want to feeling my life

Sickie: Jongho

Caretakers: Seungmin, Lee Know and briefly Hongjoong

On a normal day, Jongho loved ISAC.

He enjoyed sports after all, he liked living on the high of adrenaline with exhaustion deep in his muscles. Though seeing his idol friends from other groups was definitely the highlight. Often enough their schedules wouldn’t match up for months and they would not see each other besides a short hi backstage at a stressful award show. So he had looked forward to it.

But today was not a normal day.

Jongho had woken up feeling off. At first he had blamed his exhaustion on lack of sleep due to stressful schedules but when he barely managed to choke down breakfast he had to admit to himself something was wrong. His stomach felt unwell; full and rolling. The slight ache had turned to annoying nausea over the day – which … not good. Still, he didn’t dare tell his managers or his hyungs. He didn’t want to cause problems. He wanted his hyungs to have the good time he apparently couldn’t have today. After all he might be the maknae but the moment he had joined the final KQ fellaz lineup he had promised himself he wouldn’t be a burden, he could take care of himself. He wanted to be responsible, in his family he was the hyung. So, he didn’t need to and didn’t know how to ask for help. Yet … his hyungs had broken through his defences a long time ago.

They made sure to help him balance himself out. Jongho was the maknae but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be strong. They all agreed, and he had to admit that getting taken care of by somebody else was nice sometimes.

But he couldn’t afford being sick and especially being taken care of today. He couldn’t make his hyungs miss the event they all had looked forward to. None of his hyungs were really into sports but meeting their friends was special. Also, exposure to Korean media was always good for a small company group.

Still, sitting alone on the racing track while everybody around him seemed to have an amazing time, he couldn’t help but envy his hyungs who were talking carefree with their friends. Jongho had seen Seonghwa and Hongjoong in deep talk with Bang Chan and Felix from Stray Kids and Eric from The Boyz. Yunho was catching up with Juyeon, Q and Sangyeon. Mingi was hanging out with ONEUS and Wooyoung was off somewhere with Changbin. Jongho had lost sight of San and Yeosang some time ago.

And then there he was, sitting alone and feeling more and more sick with every minute. Self-pity was normally not his way but right now it fit his situation.

An unexpected hand on his shoulder had him jumping in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”, Seungmin apologized, looking down at him. The older idol was a good friend of his since they had both found common ground in being terrified to work with Eunkwang from BtoB in the vocal unit on Kingdom: Legendary War.

“Ah, it’s fine”, he said quietly. Seungmin seemed to not mind his following silence and plopped down next to him so that their shoulders were touching. Jongho didn’t mind the company of the older man at all, he just hadn’t expected him to approach him when he had so many other options. Surely Seungmin wanted to catch up with him but Jongho didn’t feel up to small talk at all. He swallowed down a wave of nausea again.

After a few seconds, his hyung couldn’t seem to keep quiet. “Are you okay, Jongho-yah?”, he asked carefully, apparently noticing how out of character Jongho was acting. Jongho couldn’t blame him, he would have asked the same question if the roles were reversed. That didn’t mean he wanted to tell Seungmin that he felt like he was about to puke in front of thousands of people.

“Yeah, I’m fine, hyung”, he lied and pulled his knees to his chest. He had vowed to himself he would not disturb his members’ good times with his problems and that had to count for other idols too. Even though he desperately wanted to tell somebody.

Sitting surrounded by other idols, cameras and fans under the heat of the sun beating down at them made everything so much worse. He wished he had a fan but Wooyoung had snatched it from him some time ago. For a moment he felt close to crying, despairing over his situation. He couldn’t just leave without raising suspicion, he couldn’t tell his hyungs and ask for their help and he most certainly didn’t want to be sick in full view.

No. He was strong.

“It’s just normally you are more … lively?”, Seungmin added quietly. “I don’t mean to press but I didn’t want you to be alone.” Seungmin was so kind. Jongho hated him for it but flushed at the same time.

“I’m okay, hyung”, he answered shortly.

Out of a sudden, with no warning his stomach rolled badly, worse than it had all day. Instantly the nausea got worse and he needed to keep swallowing heavily. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. He was not about to throw up.

But the possibility that it was going to happen grew with each second.

Seungmin mustered him with something akin to worry in his eyes and Jongho’s resolves crumbled. Trusting his friend with his fear seemed to be better than trying to handle himself alone.

“I’m sorry, I lied, hyung”, he whispered, “I feel so bad. I’m so nauseous.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened in shock and he frantically looked around.

“Are you going to be sick?”, he asked, trying to calm down his own panic. Surely Seungmin had not expected these words and, while responsible, he was part of the maknae-line of Stray Kids. He was not used to helping out in this kind of way.

“Not quite yet”, Jongho said miserably. “I don’t want to.”

“Let me get one of your hyungs”, Seungmin said nervously.

“No, please”, Jongho pleaded. He didn’t want to inconvenience Seungmin but he really didn’t want his hyungs to drop everything for him. Still, he couldn’t deny the thought of a hyung helping and taking over the situation was nice. The bathrooms were far away after all and probably crowded. There was no way he could get sick there alone, in peace.

So when Seungmin offered the next solution he reluctantly agreed.

His Stray Kids’ hyung left and Jongho did all he could to act like everything was okay. He loved ATINY but he knew they would take apart every small video or photo they would get their hands on. The word “embarrassment” would not be enough to describe a situation where they caught on that he was feeling closer to puking everywhere with every passing minute.

⏳

His vision darkened as somebody knelt down in front of him, blocking him from the unrelenting sun. He blinked and looked up at the rather unfamiliar face.

“Hello, Jongho-yah”, Lee Know said gently, “Min-ah said you’re not feeling so good?”

Jongho nodded, looking up with wide eyes at the older idol. He hadn’t interacted much with him before. They had been in different units on Kingdom and while he had heard from Wooyoung, San, Yunho and Yeosang how kind of a hyung he was and the fact that he and Seonghwa were best friends, Jongho himself was very unfamiliar with him. For a second he wished he hadn’t insisted on protecting his hyungs’ fun, terrified by being left alone with a sunbae he didn’t really know while sick.

But he had dealt these cards himself, so trying to be brave, he just nodded. He was too tired and sick to converse. Besides, he trusted his hyungs’ judgement of character. Lee Know seemed awfully nice and he was the one Seungmin chose. He decided to trust him, having no real other option.

“How about we get you out of here, hm?”, Lee Know asked, “no use in sitting here feeling unwell.”

“Yes, sunbaenim”, Jongho said, “thank you.” He was glad Lee Know didn’t ask why he didn’t want his members’ help. And getting to sit in a cool dressing room out of sight seemed heavenly.

“Just act normal, like we are just walking around”, Lee Know advised and helped him to his feet. Without a word he wrapped an arm around Jongho’s waist to steady him. Staytiny would love this interaction. Jongho didn’t love it at all. His legs awfully felt like jelly now that he was upright and the sickness was hitting him hard.

“Where are your managers? Do you know which entrance you took to get out into the arena?”

Jongho shook his head. He had not taken notice of much beside how awful he was feeling all day.

“No matter, I’ll take you to our dressing room, the managers will figure something out.”

Lee Know led him past Seungmin who just smiled at them, probably knowing that Jongho didn’t want a fuss, especially not in public.

“How long have you been feeling sick? Did you throw up before?”, his sunbaenim asked as they walked towards the inside of the stadium where the changing rooms and the bathrooms were located. Some idols looked at them but they weren’t stopped. Apparently they noticed that they were not just strolling around but heading somewhere with a destination. Hopefully, they didn’t guess the right one.

“Since I woke up I felt off. Haven’t thrown up. Yet”, Jongho admitted quietly.

“You know that coming here was very irresponsible, I don’t need to tell you that. But why didn’t you tell your hyungs?”, Lee Know scolded lightly.

In his sick mental state Jongho couldn’t help but shrink into himself. He didn’t want to deal with an angry sunbae while he was sick.

“I’m sorry, Lee Know-ssi”, Jongho said, pulling away slightly and stopping to look at the older man. “I didn’t want to inconvenience my hyungs or you. I’m very sorry.”

But he had never needed to worry.

“Oh, Jongho-yah”, Lee Know replied, his voice calm and soothing, “I should be the one who is sorry, I know I can come off as too harsh. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I was just curious as to why. Your team seems so close, so I was worried.”

“My hyungs are the best”, Jongho agreed, “but I guess, I wanted them to have fun. They’ve been talking for days about how much they were looking forward to seeing so many of their friends again. If I had said I was sick Seonghwa-hyung or Hongjoong-hyung would have stayed with me and I didn’t want them to miss this.”

“I get it, though I don’t agree”, Lee Know offered, “but speaking as a hyung to six dongsaengs: If any of them were sick I would want them to know to come to me if they are unwell and that missing one event in the grand scheme of things is not a tragedy.”

“Thank you, sunbaenim”, Jongho said quietly. He truly was thankful for the reassurance but still the longer he stood, the more his stomach was starting to feel really unsettled. A queasy burp surprised both him and Lee Know. A bitter taste remained in his mouth and Jongho stared at the older idol in shock.

“Call me Minho-hyung”, Lee Know said hurriedly, “let’s get you inside.”

⏳

Rushing with a sour stomach was not a recommendable activity, Jongho mused, though puking in front of fans, cameras and other idols was definitely worse. Quickly they reached one of the doors to get inside and as soon as the door closed behind them, Jongho sunk down into a crouch, hands pressed to his mouth. Immediately Minho knelt down next to him, pushing his sweat-soaked hair from his face.

“I’m sorry for the speed”, he mumbled. If Jongho had the ability to answer at the moment he would have protested, knowing the speed was the only thing that had saved (some parts of) his dignity. But he had to focus on taking deep breaths through his nose to keep his stomach where it belonged. He gagged dryly once, but the second time a small amount of water came rushing up his throat and he helplessly spat it on the ground beside him. Tears welled up in his eyes. This was so bad.

Luckily, that seemed to be all that was coming up for now.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, staring helplessly at the clear puddle.

“Don’t worry about it. Can you get to the bathroom?”, Minho asked quietly, rubbing his back. Taking stock of his body Jongho found the nausea still very present but not as overwhelming and threatening as it was a few minutes ago. He nodded and let himself be pulled to his feet for the second time that day.

Standing upright again was a whole different task. He swayed for a second until Minho adjusted the grip on his arm. The bathrooms were further inside the stadium and by the time they found the entrance sign Jongho was sure he would be sick the moment he was in front of a toilet. He just hoped the bathroom was empty.

Luck was not on his side. The bathroom were not only not empty, there was even a line. “Hyung”, Jongho involuntarily whimpered, panicked. Lee Know just squeezed his arm and turned to address the other idols who were watching them.

Jongho’s stomach lurched. There was no time for what Lee Know was planning, no time to wait. Left with the only option beside throwing up on the floor, Jongho lurched towards the sinks where The Boyz’ Jacob was washing his hands.

He had barely made it over a sink beside the one the older idol was using before his stomach send its contents up his throat. He retched and gagged helplessly, staring down in shock at last night’s dinner as he continued to bring up mouthfuls of sick. Jongho was vaguely aware of people exclaiming in shock but his aching stomach and the unpleasantness of the situation made him block out most sounds. He thought he heard Hongjoong’s name but he wasn’t sure. He would give a lot for his hyung’s comforting presence right now.

As the heaves died down and he managed to catch his breath, he felt a steady hand on his back again. This were the worst few moments of his life, throwing up in front of so many sunbaes.

“Hyung”, he gasped and immediately Minho answered: “I’m here, baby, deep breaths.” The older idol wet a tissue under the water, simultaneously washing away most of his shame, and wiped Jongho’s mouth. If he wasn’t so unwell and able to be more embarrassed he would be. But his mental state and the sickness didn’t care about normal Jongho. Right now he wanted comfort.

Minho seemed to sense this and gently wrapped him in his arms. “It’s okay”, he whispered. “I made the others leave, they didn’t mind. Keeho and Leedo are making sure nobody is coming in and Jacob and some others are looking for one of your hyungs.”

Jongho just nodded against his shoulder, pressing his eyes shut, as Minho kept rubbing his back.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, only pulling apart when the door was opened abruptly. They both turned around to find Hongjoong looking at them with worry and fondness in his eyes.

“Hey, baby”, his captain greeted with a tiny smile and walked over to them, brushing Jongho’s hair out of his face. “Jacob said you are sick? How are you feeling?”

“Sick, hyung, ashamed”, Jongho whispered, unable to meet his eyes. Surely Hongjoong was angry at him beneath his calm smile. After all, be had been pulled from having fun with the news of his maknae’s sickness. Even if he wasn’t he sure was not happy about the fact that Jongho had made such an uproar, inconveniencing so many of their sunbaenims.

“I’m sorry”, Hongjoong said sadly, opening his arms in a rarely initiated hug. “Hyung will help you.”

But Jongho couldn’t make himself take the step closer to his hyung. His hardworking, loving hyung who normally had so few opportunities to enjoy himself freely. His hyung who now had to take care of him on the one day he could have relaxed.

“I’m sorry, hyung. You were having fun”, Jongho said, subconsciously clutching Minho’s sleeve, needing to hold onto some stability. His stomach still ached with nausea and now with shame. He really just wanted to go home but he didn’t want Hongjoong to suffer under his illness too.

“Nothing of this, maknae. You’re sick, you have nothing to be sorry for”, Hongjoong replied, frowning.

Jongho chewed on his lip, not sure if he should give in. But a warm embrace from his hyung seemed like a dream come true, a lifeline during this awful day. Hesitatingly he took a step forward and immediately he was held in strong arms. He laid his head on Hongjoong’s shoulder and just breathed.

“I’ll go find one of your managers to take over”, Lee Know said and squeezed Jongho’s hand, “feel better soon, Jongho-yah.”

“Thank you for taking care of him, hyung”, Hongjoong said gratefully. “Let’s get you home, Jongho-yah.”

⏳

Bonus scene:

Hongjoong gently stroked the maknae’s back as he slept. He had managed to put the younger idol to bed only a few minutes ago, hours after they had left the stadium. Jongho’s nausea had gotten much worse during the ride and never before had Hongjoong been so happy that Seonghwa insisted on keeping plastic bags in the company cars. The younger man had thrown up two times on the way and even after they had escaped the moving vehicle, Jongho had stayed glued to the floor in front of the dorm’s toilet until he was empty. There had been nothing but providing water, cold clothes and cuddles that Hongjoong could do to help.

The others were due to arrive in half an hour and Hongjoong was glad for the - albeit short – time alone to reflect on the day.

Hongjoong had just been chatting with Bang Chan and Felix, Seonghwa having abandoned them to keep Yunho and Wooyoung in line, when they were approached by Jacob from ‘The Boyz’. They had all turned their attention to their sunbaenim and Hongjoong couldn’t hide the surprise when Jacob, who had seemed a bit out of breath, had addressed him: “Hongjoong-ssi, do you have a moment?”

Confused, Hongjoong had nodded. He had never really had interacted with the older idol before so the whole situation had seemed weird. They had stepped aside for some privacy and when Jacob had said “I’m really sorry to interrupt you, but I’ve been looking for you. It’s Jongho-ssi” Hongjoong hadn’t been able to stop the pang of fear in his chest.

First he had jumped to conclusions: Had the maknae managed to injure himself? What could have happened in the last ten minutes since he last saw him? Of course Hongjoong had noticed that Jongho had seemed a bit distant all morning but he had just assumed it was nervousness over attending ISAC. The maknae always shut himself off when he was nervous, so he hadn’t thought much of it. But apparently something else was wrong.

“Jongho threw up. He managed to get to the bathroom and Lee Know is with him”, Jacob had explained, grimacing a bit, “but he probably wants his leader right now.”

“Oh, yeah, probably”, Hongjoong had answered, a bit dumbfounded. He definitely had not expected this. Yet he had quickly gathered himself, seeing no use in analysing Jongho’s previous behaviour if he needed his leader now. “Thank you for finding me. Can you show me the way?”

“Come with me.”

Hongjoong sighed as he pulled himself out of his thoughts. He was very glad that other idols looked out for the younger ones, protecting them when they couldn’t do it themselves. In his mind he was already planning on what small but heartfelt gifts he could buy Jacob and Lee Know but that was a problem for a different day.

At last Jongho was safe and sound in his bed. There was no doubt that Jongho would very likely get sick again when he woke, but his youngest was at home. That was enough for Hongjoong.

[corroded-hellfire]

Offline Meeting - Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Gamer!Steve and gamer!reader have played online together for months, and they finally get the chance to meet in person at a gaming convention.

Note: I have to preface this by saying I am not a gamer whatsoever, My extent of gaming is The Sims. So, I had to enlist the help of @inourtownofhawkins, @trashmouth-richie, and @munson-blurbs! I hope my writing reflects all the wonderful help they gave me. Also, I know there's no such place as the "Orlando Convention Center" for any Floridians reading this, but I figured if I said "Orange County" people would assume California lol. I definitely channeled a bit of Keys from Free Guy for this as well. And a very special thankful to @trashmouth-richie for making the lovely text graphic for me! Finally, this fic is dedicated to my lovely wifey @inourtownofhawkins 💕

Warnings: my poor attempt at pretending to know about gaming, video game violence, smut, p in v, minors DNI, language, i think that's it?

Words: 6k

It’s easy to fall in love with the idea of falling in love. It’s easy to fall in love with the idea of a person. And when the only way you communicate is through social media or gaming, it’s easy to only see the good parts of someone and pretend there’s nothing bad. You’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop with Steve. Or ready for him to find something that he doesn’t like about you which will make him stop talking to you. So, when he tells you that he got a ticket to come to the gaming con that you’re attending in a few weeks, conflicting feelings come up. 

At first, you’re ecstatic that you’re going to see Steve. The two of you have talked so much about wishing you lived closer together so you could spend time with someone who understands how you feel about gaming in real life. Online is great, but you both know in person is better. But the more you thought about hanging out with Steve in real life, the more caught up in your head you got about it. What if he didn’t like you in person? What if he only liked you when he had the ability to log off? 

You’ve been talking for over nine months now, ever since you met in the lobby for both of your favorite game, Upside Down House. The two of you made a great team in the game, trying to defend a small family home from a Demogorgon that pops out of walls all over the house. Steve’s weapon of choice was always a bat, and he would stun them so you could take them out with a shotgun. You made such a good duo and had such fun playing together that you’d decided to voice chat with one another while playing, and even led to exchanging social medias and connected on discord. 

Talking to Steve was the highlight of your day. Finishing your classes for the day, you’d crash in your dorm and grab your headset, praying he was online as well. Messaging each other throughout the day just wasn’t the same. You wanted to hear his voice, play alongside him. Whenever you’d successfully beat a level, he’d become so happy and giddy that it would make your stomach flutter with the force of a hundred butterflies. The worst part of your day was always when your roommate would come back to your room, and you’d have to log off for the night so she could get some sleep. Steve would still chat with you through discord, but again, it wasn’t the same not hearing his voice. He was always your first and last text of the day. 

As the con gets closer, Steve talks more and more about how excited he is. You are too, but you’re also filled with more anxiety and worry. Begging your roommate to take you shopping for a new outfit and teach you how to do your makeup, you start to gain a little bit more confidence in seeing Steve. 

When you wake up the day of the con, a smile sticks to your face and there’s a bounce in your step. The whole drive over to the convention center you’re dancing along to the radio in your car, simultaneously dreaming about seeing Steve and trying not to think about it at the same time. You’d know his face anywhere, even having never seen it in person, and you wonder what your immediate reaction will be when your eyes land on him. 

The traffic for parking at Orlando Convention Center is backed up all the way to highway 528, and you start to get jittery as you wait in the line of cars. He’s probably already there, you think to yourself. Is he already inside? Is he excited to see you? Is he nervous? Is he already having too much fun and forgot he’s even going to be seeing you?

Your palms are sweating by the time you park your car outside Concourse A. The hot Florida sun doesn’t help you as you walk across the crowded parking lot. The line to get in feels like it takes forever, and you’re convinced you’re going to throw up all the butterflies that have been swirling around inside of you. 

Once you’ve got your badge around your neck, you dodge cosplayers – telling yourself you’ll admire them later – and pull out your phone to shoot a message to Steve.

The thirty seconds it takes to get a reply feel like an eternity.

For the first time in your twenty-something years it feels like you’ve forgotten how to walk. Shoes stumble over one another, the solid slab floor is somehow sucking your feet in like quicksand. Bumbling through the crowd, your eyes scan the faces around you for the brown eyes that melt your heart every time you see them on your phone’s screen. For that hair that tempts you to run your fingers through it more than you ever wanted to touch anything in your life. 

Right in the middle of a large crowd, your sneakers squeak to a halt, annoying the people around you and forcing them to go around. Steve’s there, in person, in the same space as you. He hasn’t spotted you yet, craning his neck to look over people, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. Perfect isn’t a word you’d ever prescribed to anyone before, but it’s surely how Steve looks just standing there. His jeans are slightly too big, hanging low on his hips, and his navy t-shirt framing his broad shoulders in the most flattering way. 

All thoughts leave your head as Steve turns his head and locks eyes with you. Absolutely frozen to the spot, the growing grin on his face is the only thing that breaks you out of your trance. He takes a step towards you, and you find yourself barreling towards him as well. How were you supposed to greet him? Handshake? Hug? Awkwardly standing there and saying hi? Steve makes the choice for you as he grabs you and pulls your body against his. Positive that he can feel your heart thrumming against his chest, your arms cling around his neck and hold onto him like you’ll never let him go. And you don’t want to.

“Finally,” Steve says as you reluctantly pull away from one another. 

“It’s so good to see you. For real.” Without thinking about it, your hand comes up and cups the side of his face. He leans into your touch and your heart soars into your throat. You let your hand drop from his face and he’s quick to pick it up in his own hand. Steve’s thumb rubs along the back of your hand and it sends tingles up your spine. 

“There’s a panel on Upside Down House in half an hour,” he tells you. “And after that there’s a Junkyard Babysitter tournament in the next hall and the winner gets an Xbox gift card. I already signed us up.”

“Oh, you’re so good at that game! The prize is as good as yours.”

Steve gives you a bashful smile and it sets every nerve in your body on fire. He gives a small tug on your hand and starts to head for the doors.

“Come on, let’s go get some seats for the panel.”

It turns out that you and Steve could’ve run that panel. You were both just as knowledgeable about the game as the hosts, could have easily answered all the questions that were asked by fellow panelists, and even managed to give tips and insight that no one else in the room had. 

“So, when the trail of lights leads you right up to the front door, that’s a decoy. You have to head to the left because that’s where the Demogorgon pops out from.”

“The fire trap in the hallway is great for distracting! But it won’t kill him on its own. You’ve got to use another weapon too.”

Once the panel is over, you and Steve get seats next to each other at the tournament. The room fills fairly quickly so you and Steve have a short chat about strategy. Your character would take cover in the hollowed-out school bus in the junkyard, and Steve’s character would hide behind the junked cars surrounding the area as he makes his way towards the dangerous center. It’s a play you’ve both used before, so you have a fair amount of confidence in it. 

There are about twenty people in this tournament, but you don’t look at any of them around the room. Only Steve. He gives you a reassuring nod before the game starts, then both of your characters are running to their respective locations you agreed upon. Six characters are brought down upon the initial onslaught. Fourteen left. 

“Behind you,” you tell Steve. His character spins around in time to take down the other player with his trusty baseball bat. The back door of the bus is being caved in, so your character picks up the closest weapon – which is a flamethrower – and waits for the intruder to be in sight. 

“There’s two out there,” Steve warns you as he sneaks his character over to get a better view of the bus. Your character lifts the flamethrower and aims it right where you’re expecting the others’ heads to be. The metal is finally bashed in, and the flamethrower takes both characters down with one burst of flame. You climb the ladder that’s in the middle of the bus, not high enough to stick your head out the top, but enough to be better prepared for an ambush. 

That ambush arrives when three players jump on top of the bus, circling you on the ladder below.

“Shit.”

Steve’s quick to get his character to the rescue, though. The first thing he does once he’s on the roof is knock one of the three players inside the bus so you can take care of him no problem. Your flamethrower gets the job done. Hiking it over your shoulder, you keep a tight grip on the flamethrower as you climb the ladder to join Steve and the other two on the roof. The player closest to you doesn’t know you’ve come up behind him, so you take advantage and kick his legs out from underneath him, and when he’s lying flat on his back, you pull the trigger. 

“Damn it!”

Steve’s frustrated call has you turning to look at his character, but it’s already too late. The other player is steadily draining his life force and even if you killed him now, Steve’s character would still die. But you go for it anyway. You run at the other player to get as much momentum as you can and ram him off the bus roof. Both he and Steve’s characters die, fading from the playing field. 

Your character climbs down the ladder into the bus for safety, but grabs Steve’s discarded bat when she does. The bottom right corner of your screen tells you that there’s only five players left. They’re out there, either hiding like you, or getting into fights. Your character slowly makes her way to the broken back door of the bus and peeks out. It looks like there’s someone hiding in the bushes closest to the bus. Gripping your controller tight, you have your character swap out her weapons for a shotgun. You always have the best aim with these. Your character crawls to the very edge of the bus and balances on one knee, holding the shotgun up just right to get the target in the viewfinder. With a squeeze of the trigger, the total number of players has gone down to four. Sticking the shotgun and bat in your bag, you carry the flamethrower as you make your way to the other end of the bus. There’s no one visible from the dirty and cracked windows, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t near. 

There’s movement from behind one of the rusty old cars. Another player must have noticed this too because there’s the sound of a shot before the screen is letting you know there are three players remaining. Feeling like a sitting duck, you slip out the back way of the bus and slowly creep around to the hood. Head on the swivel, your character’s back is pressed against the cool yellow metal, and she attempts to make the quietest footfalls possible. 

“Oh, shit! Do you know who that is?” It’s spoken somewhere in the room around you, loud enough that you hear it even with your full concentration on the screen in front of you. 

“Whoa,” Steve says. Your eyes dart to him and are back on the screen in the next instant. 

“What’s going on?” you ask.

In the game, you see one player sneak out of a trunk of one of the cars. It’s one of the worst places to hide because it’s so obvious when you come out of it and the hinges squeak constantly while they’re being moved. You line up your flamethrower and have it positioned just right on your shoulder when a rusty pipe impales the character, leaving the remaining number of players at two.

“It’s Patrice Harlan,” Steve tells you. Your eyes almost bug out of your head.

“The Patrice Harlan? The guy who has won thousands and thousands of dollars by being incredible at these types of games?”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a sigh. Patrice was all over the gaming forums, known as one of the all-time best. He was one of the lucky ones who made a successful career from his gaming. This was seriously impacting your confidence.

“I got this,” you tell yourself, sounding much surer than you feel. Your character searches for Patrice’s character. You’re the only ones left. Taking slow, deliberate steps, your character comes around the front of the bus and darts to hide behind a pile of tires. By the sounds in the junkyard, you know Patrice’s character is getting closer. Depending on how close he got or from what angle would determine which weapon would be the most efficient here. 

Footsteps boom over to your character. This is it. He has to be right on the other side of the tires. Close proximity. You quickly switch out your weapons until your character is holding Steve’s bat. Your avatar stands up and comes face to face with Patrice’s avatar. She’s smaller than him but that could also come with some perks. Your character grips the bat right in her hand, and using her compact size, crouches down and springs up, jumping high enough to land on the pile of tires. From the vantage point, it’s the perfect place to go for the kill shot. You have her raise the bat up over her head, and as you jump down from the pile she cracks Patrice’s avatar straight down the middle of the skull, causing him to fall flat on his back. Always one to take precautions, you have your character swap out for the shotgun and fire it into the avatar’s chest, sealing the deal. 

You won.

The room goes crazy. Steve’s pulling you out of your seat, cupping your face with his hands before he pulls you in for a bone crushing hug that you don’t mind one bit. Other players pat you on the back and offer their congratulations as they walk by. But then you see him. Patrice Harlan. He’s even taller in person than he is online, his buzzed blonde hair catching the bright lights in the room. You’re afraid he’s going to be intimidating, but he walks over to you with a smile and offers you a friendly handshake. It feels insane. To just have beaten a professional to be the champion of one of your favorite games. 

The head of the tournament bestows you with your Xbox gift card and you instantly put it in your wallet for safekeeping. 

After all the excitement of the win dies down, you turn to Steve and find him looking at you a bit differently. You raise an eyebrow as you take a step towards him. 

“You good?” you ask. 

“Uh, yeah,” Steve says. His eyes are so dark and the look he’s giving you is not one anyone has ever given you before. It’s not unpleasant, though. “That was, um… Wow. That was really…”

“Yes, really what?” you ask, trying to help him along.

“Really hot,” Steve says, catching you by surprise. Your face flares up and you give your head a shake. 

“All I did was win a video game,” you say.

“Yeah, but you pretty much beat the best of the best. And it’s really turning me on,” Steve adds with a laugh. The heat in your face dials up but you allow Steve to take your hand in his again. 

Steve holds onto your hand the rest of the day. Only when the occasion absolutely called for it did he let you go, only to intertwine your fingers together again as soon as he could. Through every panel, strolling through the marketplace, even eating dinner together, he keeps his soft hold on you. Even though it’s been going on for hours, your tummy is still in the most pleasant knots possible as you feel his warm skin against yours. 

As the con winds down for the day, you’re starting to dread saying goodbye to Steve. Even if it’s only until tomorrow. But after spending such an amazing day with him, leaving his side for even a moment sounds like torture. 

“So, uh, which way is your car? My hotel is that way.” Steve points in the general direction where there are at least four hotels practically on top of each other. 

“I’m parked right here. I can give you a ride,” you say.

Steve slides into the passenger's seat and the drops of sweat on his forehead make you chuckle as you put on your seatbelt. 

“Not used to this hot weather, huh?”

“And the sun isn’t even out anymore,” Steve says, gesturing to the dark sky. 

“Welcome to Florida.”

You pull out of the convention center parking and turn down I-Drive to get to the hotels.

“What’s the temperature back home?” you ask him.

“Uh, lemme see.” He picks up his phone and swipes to the weather app. “In Hawkins it is currently 62 degrees.”

“Shit, add at least twenty to that here. Maybe twenty-five.” It’s too quick before you pull into the hotel parking lot. You’re not ready to say goodnight. “What’s Hawkins like?”

You’ve both talked about your hometowns with each other before, but you’re grasping at straws to spark a conversation to extend your time together. Even if it’s only five more minutes.

“It’s small,” he says. “Pretty boring little town.” 

“And not as warm as here,” you say.

“Jesus Christ, no,” Steve says with a laugh. He licks over his lips and glances down at his lap. When he looks back at you, he looks nervous. “Do you, um, want to come in? I-I mean we could play a game or something.”

Or something. You want the something.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

The walk to Steve’s room is quiet; both of you riddled with nerves and anticipation. He unlocks the door and lets you in first, like a gentleman. You take in the room as you walk in. It’s a little messy, suitcase open and items strewn about the small space. The temperature is cool, but it makes sense that he’d keep the room like this since he’s so unused to the heat outside. There’s a king bed and your eyes can’t seem to stay off of it for more than a moment at the time. A chair sits at a small table in the corner, but you perch yourself on the edge of the bed, hoping that signals to Steve what you want without you having to say it out loud. 

Steve rubs at the back of his neck and tosses his room key down the counter that’s supporting the television. 

“So, uh, what do you want to do?” he asks. 

“You” doesn’t seem like an appropriate answer to give, even if it’s true. 

“Watch a movie?” you suggest. 

“Sure.” Steve grabs the remote and you kick off your shoes, scooting up to the top of the bed. He joins you, shoulder pressed up against yours, and flips through the channels to see what’s on. Just sitting next to him on the bed like this has your nerves burning in excitement. 

He settles on some movie with weird alien creatures but you’re not paying attention. The heat radiating off Steve’s body is all you can focus on. You make the mistake of glancing over at him and your eyes lock onto his lips. They look so soft and such a pretty shade of pink. Steve reaches up and rubs at his eye, which has you now staring at his hands. His fingers are long, and you know they must be skilled from all the video games he plays. 

Trying to relieve some of the ache that’s growing between your legs, you shift on the bed, squeezing your thighs together and it causes you to bump your shoulder against Steve’s. The contact makes you feel like you've swallowed a fistful of pop rocks; tingly and jumpy from the inside out. Steve looks over at you and your traitorous eyes drop down to his mouth. He licks over his lips again – this time on purpose you think – and you know he clocks the way your breath hitches. A smirk comes to those beautiful rosy lips, and you find yourself leaning in closer to him. 

Steve reaches up and cups the side of your face in his hand, leaning the rest of the way to press his mouth against yours. The kiss starts off soft, lips dancing against one another, careful and timid. A small moan breaks from the back of your throat and it gives Steve the courage to swipe his tongue against your upper lip. You open your lips to him and lower yourself down to the pillows, tangling your fingers in his hair to bring him with you. 

Goosebumps spread up your arms as Steve licks his way into your mouth and the kiss goes from shy to exploring. His hand rests on your hip and he lets out a whine as you suck on his bottom lip. Steve slots a leg between yours, which you gladly spread for him, but you want to let out a frustrated whimper when his thigh isn’t close enough to grind your hips against. 

When you give a small, experimental tug to Steve’s hair, he moans into your mouth and bucks his hips against yours. You smile in satisfaction against him, and he pulls back to look down at your gleeful face.

“I could feel that smile,” he tells you, making you giggle and shrug your shoulders innocently. “You like teasing me, huh?”

“Me teasing you?” You pout. “You need to hike your thigh up about four inches.”

Steve looks down at where his leg is, then four inches up. His playful smirk somehow turns you on even more. 

“What? You want to rut against my leg?” he asks.

“Yes,” you whine. 

“Such an impatient girl,” he says as he leans in for another kiss. This one is quick and sweet. “I’ll take care of you if you want me to.”

You nod your head, eyes falling closed as you do. He gently taps your cheek until you open your eyes.

“Words, sweetheart. I need you to use your words.”

“Want you in me,” you rush out in a breath. 

“Fuck,” Steve mumbles, dropping his forehead to rest against yours. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, Steve. Please.”

“Who am I to say no to that?” He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose before getting up and rummaging through his suitcase. There’s a condom wrapped in its shiny foil in Steve’s hand as he comes back to the bed.

“You always carry those on you or were you expecting this to happen?” you tease. 

“I was hopeful,” he admits with a shrug. “Knew I wanted it to happen. Was praying you did too.”

“Of course I did.” You reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair again. “I should warn you that I don’t have a lot of experience, though.”

“Me neither,” Steve admits. “But fuck, I want to learn your body.”

You pull him back down against your lips, and your hands slide from his hair all the way down to his belt. Tongues tangling, you nimbly unfasten the silver buckle and move on to the button of his jeans. Steve’s hands come to slide up your stomach, gliding underneath the material of your shirt. His thumbs trace the skin just below your breasts and it makes your hands stutter over his zipper. 

Steve kicks his jeans off his legs before helping you yank your shirt over your head. His mouth instantly attaches to your neck, biting and sucking and trying to find the most sensitive spot to drive you wild. Fingers grasping at his shirt, you tug it up as high as you can before Steve breaks the contact with your skin just to get it off. He goes right back to his work though, making sure you’re going to have the best hickey he’s ever given. Your jeans are next to come off, both of you working in tandem to rid the denim from your body. Now you’re left in only your bra and panties, Steve in his boxers. 

Tangling your fingers in his irresistible soft brown tresses once again, you wrap your legs around Steve’s and pull his hips down to press against yours. Both of you moan as his clothed cock brushes over your panty-clad core.

“Eager, huh?” Steve pants out against your neck. 

“You have no idea,” you sigh out, letting your eyes slip closed.

“Think I do,” Steve says between swiping his tongue repeatedly over your pulse point. “Wanted you since I first heard your voice. Sounded so fucking hot.”

He rocks his hips against yours, wetness pooling between your legs. The soft whimpers you let out only egg him on.

“Then I saw a picture of you on your Instagram,” Steve says. “Fuck, made me so hard.”

“D-Did you touch yourself to it?” Even to your own ears, your voice sounds wholly wrecked.

“Touched myself every time I opened your Instagram, baby.” His kisses trail up to behind your ear and an involuntary shiver runs down your body. “Thinking about getting you in this position. Getting you all worked up and panting beneath me. Making you beg me to touch you.”

“Fuck, please touch me,” you cry out. Steve smirks against your skin and trails his hand down to the waistband of your panties. 

“I’d rip these if they weren’t so sexy,” he says, finger dipping just inside the black lace. “But maybe I’ll just take them home with me instead.”

Steve sits up and you whine as his body warmth and weight is taken away. He quickly slips your panties off though, and the coolness hitting your wet center has you shifting your hips. When you look up at him, Steve’s eyes are almost entirely black, that beautiful brown totally consumed. His gaze is hungry, and you take advantage of his gaze to slowly strip yourself of your bra. You notice the catch in his breath as you toss the matching black lace garment off the side of the bed. Fully naked below him, he scans his eyes up and down your body, taking in every little detail of your bare skin. It’s a bit scary, being so vulnerable with him, but Steve’s never made you feel anything less than special. 

“Jesus, you’re perfect,” Steve says quietly. He quickly sheds himself of his boxers, leaving your mouth watering as you eye his impressive cock. Even though you don’t have a ton of experience with sex, you’re still confident in saying Steve is big. His cheeks turn a pale shade of pink as you take the entirety of his beauty in and when your eyes come back up to his, he flops down next to you, making you giggle. He shoots you a devastating smile as his large hands reach out and pull your body on top of his. 

“Can I put my mouth on you, baby?” you ask Steve softly. He lets out a guttural groan from the back of his throat and his eyes squeeze closed. You feel his cock twitch against your thigh, precum pooling between your skin and his. 

“Shit, I want that so bad,” he rasps. “But there’s no way I’d last, and I want to be in you.”

“I want you in me, too,” you say in between kisses to his throat. “I’ll just have to suck you off later.”

Steve lets out a breathy laugh as his hand blindly reaches for the condom next to you on the bed.

“You keep talking like that and I won’t last long either.”

Pushing yourself up to sit on his thighs, you pluck the condom from his hands and rip open the wrapper. Eyes focused on the small foil package, you don’t notice Steve’s hand slipping down until his fingers are gliding through your folds. A gasp escapes you and you drop the condom on Steve’s chest, making him smirk in self-satisfaction. His middle finger brushes over your clit and your hips buck forward.

“Feel good, baby?” Steve coos. “Fuck, you’re so wet. All for me?”

“Yes, Steve,” you let out in a breathy moan. “Had me wet for you all day.”

“Only fair since I’ve been half hard all day,” Steve muses. “And when you beat Harlan this afternoon? God, I wanted to fuck you right then and there.” 

Unable to form words, you just nod as a whine leaves you. Fingers scramble along Steve’s skin until you find the condom again. It’s hard to concentrate slipping it on Steve’s cock as his hand keeps sliding from your clit to your fluttering hole.

Steve’s dick twitches as you roll the condom on, and he removes his hand from between your legs. You want to whine at the loss, but you lift yourself up to line him up with your entrance. The head catches against your hole and you feel your abdominal muscles tighten in pleasure. Moving slowly, you start to lower yourself, his length stretching you in a way you’ve never experienced before. Your eyes shut as the sting quickly switches to pleasure, your walls adjusting to fit his size.

“Fuck,” Steve groans out, eyes rolling back in his head.

An exhale leaves your lungs as you finally take him in up to the hilt. Fully seated on him, you need to still yourself to let your body accommodate the welcome intrusion. 

“Steve, you’re so big,” you whine. His cock twitches inside of you at your words and it makes you bite down on your bottom lip.

“You feel like heaven, baby,” Steve says. His breathing is labored and his hands grip at your hips tightly, anchoring himself. “So warm and tight for me. Fuck, so wet too. Can feel you dripping on my balls.”

“Make me feel so full. S’so good.”

Your hips begin to rock against Steve, planting your hands on his chest to steady yourself. It’s obvious Steve is holding back, lip caught between his teeth and his eyes screwed shut. His thumbs are digging so hard into your hip bones that you know you’re going to have two small black and blue marks tomorrow. 

When you moan out a string of Steve’s name over and over, he can’t keep his composure anymore and fucks his hips up into you. You let out a whimper as he reaches impossibly deep inside of you.

“Shit, s-sorry,” Steve says.

“No, don’t be,” you answer. “W-Want you to feel good. Want you to do what you want.”

Steve snakes an arm around your waist and uses his other arm to push himself up, his back smacking against the headboard. Now you’re seated more comfortably in his lap and your clit has a better angle to rub against his pubic bone. 

“Fuck, Steve.” You speed up your hips, trying to get him to rock up into you. His hand sneaks up to grab at your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple as you drop your head back in ecstasy. “Harder.”

The restraint Steve was barely holding on to snaps and his hips buck up against yours, driving his cock deeper and faster inside of you. Muscles in your lower body tightening, you drop your head forward to rest on Steve’s shoulder.

“Close, baby,” you speak against his skin.

“Me too – fuck – me too.” 

As his hips piston into you, you grind yourself down harder, letting your clit rub deliciously against his body. You feel yourself teetering towards the edge and the clenching of your walls around him has Steve seeing stars.

Screaming out Steve’s name, your vision fills with white as you come hard all over his cock. The prettiest whines leave Steve’s mouth as he orgasms right along with you, twitching inside of you as he fills the condom. 

Both of you need a moment to catch your breath, and you lift your head from his shoulder to meet his eyes. Steve’s lips quirk up in a satisfied smile and the pair of you let out a soft laugh at the same time.

“That was…holy shit, that was amazing,” Steve says.

“So fucking good,” you agree. 

His hand cups your face and he brings you in for a tender kiss on the lips, the softness making you melt after your earth shattering orgasm. You feel in complete bliss as you lean against Steve’s chest, letting him wrap you up in his arms. He nuzzles his nose against yours and you giggle at the tickle you feel as his eyelashes brush over your cheek.

“You really gonna take my panties home with you?” you ask.

“If that’s okay with you,” he says with a peck to your lips.

“As long as I get to keep something of yours.” 

“I’d offer you a hoodie, but I doubt you’d ever wear it in this sauna of a state,” he says, making you laugh.

“How about a t-shirt I can sleep in?” you offer.

“Perfect.” 

You ease yourself off of Steve’s lap, both of you hissing as he slips out of you. He pulls off the condom, ties it up, and gets up to toss it in the trash. Eyes tracking him as he moves around the hotel room, you lay back on the bed and admire how the thin sheen of sweat is making him glow in the dim lamplight. When he looks back to you, you raise your arms to show him that you want him to come back to you for cuddles. 

“Two seconds,” Steve says, slipping into the bathroom. The fact that he takes longer than that makes you pout, arms dropping back down to the bed. He steps back into the room carrying a washcloth and wearing the cutest pair of glasses you’ve ever seen.

“Well, hello,” you say in a flirty tone as he comes over to you. He smiles as he places the warm cloth at the apex of your thigh.

“I think I squeezed my eyes shut too tight before,” he explains with a shrug as he gently cleans you up. “Moved my contact and it was bugging me.”

“They’re hot.” He rolls his eyes at your words, and you frown. “I’m not teasing. I mean it.”

Steve stops his movements, looking up at you and raising his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Really,” you assure him. A shy smile comes to his lips as he tosses the used cloth towards the bathroom.

“When we go for round two, want me to wear them as I eat that pretty pussy out?”

His words have heat shooting straight down to your core, said pussy already ready for him again. 

“As long as you wear them while I blow you.”

“Fuck, I’m so glad I came to see you.”

[vavoomed-for-crowley]

Vavoom!

Probably not what you're expecting but here it is anyway.

Aziraphale watches them closely as a smile is on the corner of his lips but sadness in his eyes. The latter is surely not be noticed by anyone else because no one can read him so well as Crowley had always been able to.

Actually, Aziraphale should feel lonely, having no one to talk to or to see how he really feels. But for some reason, he finds comfort in knowing that there is only one living being who was ever able to truly understand him and now to be able to hide his true feelings.

That doesn't mean he isn't hurting or that the other angels wouldn't notice it. For heaven's sake, Aziraphale would not even deny it when being asked about it. But he knows that the true depth of his emotions would never really be noticed again.

Suddenly, Aziraphale feels a hand on his shoulder. As if they could read his mind but who knows, maybe they could do even that, Metatron stands behind the Archangel. "You did a good job" they said. "This surely was no easy choice." A short pause, a little breath. "I'm sorry". They mean it.

"It's okay" Aziraphale answers without lifting the gaze from the view in front of him. He doesn't want anyone to see the tear that has formed in his eyes. And it really is okay, even though it hurts.

"You're going to be okay without him?" Metatron asks.

"Have been so far, at least more or less. So I will be."

Metatron keeps their hand on Aziraphale's shoulder and watches the demon with him for just a moment longer. "He looks happy"

"He does, doesn't he?!" Aziraphale says happily and turns with a smile to look at Metatron. His eyes shining like stars. Seeing Crowley happy would always be his highlight.

Crowley would not know the sacrifice Aziraphale did out of his love for him. But when Aziraphale had seen that for the first time in months, Crowley let someone else get closer to him again, he just knew it was the right thing to do.

Aziraphale knew that there was no way of seeing Crowley happy again for as long as he could remember him. Aziraphale watched Crowley stopping by the bookshop every day and watching the night sky when being drunk, remembering how he used to create the stars. Aziraphale had shared his pain, not finding a proper way to do his duty as an Archangel and go back to the demon he loves so much. He had thought about different ways but he couldn't do good to humanity and earth if he went back to Crowley.

So Crowley would not know that one day, Aziraphale had erased all of their memories together. Now, Aziraphale is no more than a faded memory of someone Crowley used to know. Crowley now remembers Aziraphale just as someone who's been in his life, who's been meaning much to him but has also been hurting him, without ever truly getting the hang of the depth behind it. Like the feeling of a bad dream at night, somehow so real, yet not tangible.

"A wonder so strong can only work due the ultimate sacrifice, out of love. How did you know this would work?"

"I didn't" Aziraphale answers. "Well, for erasing his memories, I knew, of course. But for them, I mean for him to fall in love... I just hoped for the vavoom."

"Vavoom?" Metatron asked.

"Oh, it's nothing" Aziraphale says and shakes his head slightly. He turns back to the view of Crowley and his partner. Crowley looks happy and relaxed, comfortable in his surroundings. Done are his days partying through the night and getting drunk to forget the pain he had gone through. Somehow Crowley had managed to find someone who understood him, without knowing too much.

Metatron puts down their hand and leaves the angel alone. It is his time to say goodbye for good and they have interrupted the angel for long enough.

"Vavoom!" Aziraphale smiles at the memory of Crowley talking about his plan to make Nina and Maggie fall in love. For heaven's sake, they've both been so blind back then.

Vavoom. The moment that makes them fall in love.

Who would have known that one day, it was a rainy day that would bring Crowley his own vavoom, finding someone he could fall for again after being splashed wet by the Bentley.

Vavoom. Now that Aziraphale thinks about it, even the car seemed to make that noise that day.

"Goodbye Crowley, you deserve all the happiness in life, my dear" Aziraphale said and closed the view on Earth.

Actually, there was more but I decided this is perfect fanfiction material. I'm also gonna keep the name. So, see this as a teaser for the actual story if you like.

[730bliss]

3am (street fighter! hook x reader)

g/n reader, thx for voting ♡

**minor violence and sexual implications

“Only five more minutes..” you thought, as you looked up to the clock longingly. 

Today was busy. Extra busy. Working at an understaffed coffee shop in the middle of the city probably wasn’t your best idea. Taking up your bosses’ 14-hour shift offer didn’t help either. But, the pay was good and the people were usually nice, leaving tips which you would spend on dinner afterwards. 

Your coworkers were great too. Liv was your best friend. You knew her in highschool, and you guys were always hanging out, even outside of work. Alexa was a bit scary sometimes, but you were nice to her regardless. Iyo didn’t know alot of English, having moved with her family from Japan. Duolingo proved to be of some help to you both. You had other coworkers, but you didn’t really talk to them. 

Finally, the time came and you could go home! Hallejuiah! You were going to have the best time having the next two days off, doing nothing, sleeping in, cleaning, eating, shopping, and- 

“Hey!” Liv said, interrupting your thoughts. 

“Oh, hey, what’s up?” you said a bit tiredly. 

Liv looked around and lowered her voice, “You know my boyfriend, right?” 

Ah, yes. Liv’s boyfriend. Max. Ew. You told her so many times to stay away from him. 

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes, “What’d he do now?” 

“Actually, nothing…” she said awkwardly.

“Oh? Well, what happened?” you asked, shocked. Usually when your guys’ conversations started like this, Max was usually being a dick to her or doing something stupid, god, he’s so stuck up. 

“Nothing! I was just wondering if you’d go with me to his work tonight? I wanna go watch him, but I’m too scared to go alone..” Liv said. 

“Oh, his job? Like, the fighting thing?” you asked. 

“SHH! Not so loud! Yes, the uh- fighting thing,” she said. 

Liv told you a few months ago about her boyfriends “job.” It wasn’t really a job. It was some underground WWE thing, except highly illegal. Real punching, real tables, real blood. The people who went would bet on the winner, like it was horse racing. From what you could assume, the winner of each match got to keep all the money. Liv was telling you how her boyfriend came home with glass in his back the other week. No wonder why he’s such a jerk.  

“Well, uh- Liv, I don’t really know I-” you stammered, you didn’t want to tell her no, but you just wanted to go to bed. You ended up saying yes. She said she’d pick you up at eight. 

Only three hours by yourself, what a shame. Not even enough time to take a decent nap! 

Eventually, you got home and the clock read 7:00pm all too quickly. You decided you would get ready, begrudgingly. Before walking out the door, you took one last look at your bed, debating whether or not to cancel, and walked out. 

When you got the “venue,” Liv lead the way, while you were too busy trying to take in your surroundings. It wasn’t very clean, the walls which were once white had a yellow-brown tint to them. There were some stains on them, too. But their origins, whether from food or the human body, was uncertain. The floors were a bit sticky, and the room smelt like cigarette smoke and alcohol. You sat next to Liv, in some of the last front-row seats available. The seat felt gross. You could see the letters A-E-W spray painted on the floor.

“So, how do you like it?” Liv asked smiley, with a hint of sarcasm in her words. 

You laughed, “Well, it’s uh- it’s definitely…underground.” 

You both laughed. 

Most of the night went by somewhat quickly, and you found yourself interested at times although, it wasn’t because of the action. Some of the boys here were actually kinda… good looking. An older guy by the name of Christain caught your eye, but he probably had a wife, or something. Another guy, with half of his face painted got you extremely interested, but he was too good looking to not be in a relationship. He was the highlight of the night until someone else came out. The other guy in question was introduced as “HOOK.” Huh, weird name. Hook was really cute, and well-built. Fluffy brown hair that looked blonde when the light hit it. 

(a/n: there team blonde, are you happy?) 

He was probably about your age, maybe early 20s. He looked at you a couple of times, but you quickly looked away each time, trying to hide the blush that crept onto your face. His match went by fast, and he won, but not before getting socked by the other guy. The last time he looked at you he had a big purple bruise around his eye. You waited until he was all the way gone before making a comment to Liv. 

“Hey, he was kinda cute,” you said quietly. 

“What? Hook?” she asked. 

“Yeah, or whatever his name is,” you said. 

She looked in your eyes, and slowly, the biggest, most mischievous, shit-eating grin covered her face. You knew that face all too well. 

“Liv,” you said sternly. 

“What?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Why not?” she teased. 

“Because!” 

“I can get his number for you,” she said with a smile. 

“Liv, I just said he was cute,” you said. 

“Yeah, and I have connections!”  she pleaded. 

“No,” you said. 

“Fine. You’re no fun.” 

You guys had to wait until Max’s match was over and he was cleaned up before you could leave. You sat in the back while Liv and Max took you home. Liv waited until you were inside to drive off and tell Max about his cute “coworker.” Max found it a bit amusing, so he sent her his number. 

Liv worked her magic that night, with Max peeking over every once in awhile. Because for some reason, this Hook guy was still awake at three in the morning. Hook said he would try to stop by on Monday, when you came back from your two days off. And Liv didn’t tell you jack shit about her plan. 

When you came back to work, it was just you and Alexa until 11, when Liv and Iyo came in. It was all going well, you two being successful in getting through the morning rush. Lunch rush was a bit busy, but not as bad as Friday. Liv was tapping a pen on the counter impatiently, probably waiting for Max to bring her some food, or something. You and Iyo were tackling some spilt milk, until the bell rang and Liv tapped your shoulder.

“Can you take this order? I need to use the bathroom,” she said. 

“Sure,” you said, and went to the register to help a guy with a hood on get his order taken.

It wasn’t until you asked for his name you got a good look at his face. Brown eyes and broad shoulders. You could see some tufts of brown hair, too. But the thing that made him stand out was the big, purple bruise around his eye and- OH NO! 

“You should’ve known. Maybe this was all a coincidence? Hopefully he doesn’t remember you. Maybe if you are nice enough he’ll become a regular. I wonder if he’s single…” your mind raced with thoughts as you made his coffee. It was similar to your own order, just a bit stronger. 

You looked over to Liv. 

She smiled at you. 

You shook your head. 

Secretly, you were thankful for it. And for Liv, she was thankful he even showed up at all. 

He was the only person there, so you didn’t bother calling out his name. But hopefully you spelt it right. 

“Enjoy,” was all you said before you tried to turn away.

“Thanks,” he said. 

“But hey- uh,” he started. You turned your attention back to him. 

“Can I get a straw?” 

“Sure,” you said, and reached down to grab one. You handed one to him. 

“Thanks, and hey- you’re Max’s friend, right?” he asked. 

“Oh, um, not really. I’m just friends with his girlfriend.. so..” you trailed off. 

“Good, he's a dick.” 

“Yeah.” 

There was a moment of awkwardness before he spoke again, with a bit of nonverbal help from Liv who was listening in intently. Liv's ability to become friends with seemingly everybody was beyond you. 

“I think you’re cute too,” he said bluntly, but you could tell he really did mean it.

“Oh! Um, thanks! I mean- uh, sorry I didn’t mean too, uh,” you stammered before coming to your senses. 

“I’m sorry Liv tried to drag you into this,” you finally said. 

He chuckled and asked for your number. You gave it to him. 

The subsequent date was nice. You both shared a lot of laughs, and you learned he had a thing for photography. He even paid for the meal, despite your efforts. You went to a few more “shows'' with Liv, and he came home with you sometimes. But usually, you were both too tired to do anything. Sometimes you did, though. Hook was really good at making you feel good. 

After tiptoeing around each other for a while you guys decided to make it official. Liv was ecstatic when you told her the news. It’s kind of ironic, because then you became the one plucking glass out of your boyfriends back at 3am.