#looking forward to sharing the results

[oneluckylibrarian]

Data Wrangling: My Beloathed

[whimsicmimic]

once again thinking about my post-trimax legato somehow miraculously survives despite everything au and vashgato agenda aka The Worlds Most Miserable Roadtrip

[jungkookstatts]

All Over Again

[Summary]: Paternity leave has its effects on Jungkook. After his first day back at work, he can't help but show you how much he doesn't want to go back.

[Theme]: Dad!Jk, CEO!Jk, Married Couple AU, Parent's AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes. Marking, kissing, nipple play, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up y'all), dom!JK, mentions of another pregnancy, talks of pregnancy and getting pregnant, etc.

[Word Count]: 4,274

[A/N]: This is a pure result of the urge my body suddenly gets to want a child right before my period smh. Anyway, felt cute, might delete later once I am sane.

It’s been a long ass day. Jungkook’s white button-up feels stapled to his skin, his pants folding uncomfortably with every step he makes as he exits his office. A long finger comes up to his neck, digging underneath his striped tie, wiggling it a little to loosen the chokehold it has around his neck. His other hand feels bound to his briefcase, which carries so much importance in his life but yet so much burden at the same time.

It’s his first day back at work after his baby boy was born. The briefcase he holds reminds him of the duty he has to his family — of his passion and his support for you and your baby. But it also reminds him of the time it has ripped away from spending with you. He clutches it with so much strength at the thought of you, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and pressing the unlock button so hard, that he thinks he almost might just break it.

With a deep breath, he takes off his tie and tosses it in the passenger seat along with his briefcase. He’s ready to go home. That picture of you, him, and your son that you insisted on framing and Jungkook bringing to work has been a constant reminder of what he has to look forward to at the end of the day. If only his paternity leave could have been longer. You and his son are all he’s been able to think about. How you were doing, if you needed his help, if Jaemun was being feisty, how the cute crinkle on his nose resembles yours to a T.

It’s late January, and the winter air is unforgiving. He wonders if you have the heat on high enough; if Jaemun had enough blankets, or if the tip of your nose was cold like how it always is in the winter months. He can imagine you holding him close, swaddling him as you sing to him delicately. The thought makes his whole body warm, even though the air is so cold that it feels like glass is cutting against his skin.

He’s convinced he will take more time off. He’s the CEO, after all. He could take months off and it not matter. He wants to be with you always — at all times of the day to hold you and be there for you like he should be. If only the world had been that easy to where passions didn’t have a price. He got lucky, his passion having a heavy penny attached to it. But he wonders where that passion took something more valuable away from him — time. He finds himself now strapped between the choice of time and passion, and he fights the fact that he cannot choose both.

The door to your home is welcoming to his eyes as he pulls up to it. It’s not big by any means. Just homey and enough for the three of you. Even with the snow covering almost every inch of it, the reminder of how warm it is on the inside makes his drive to enter it even greater. He does so with a shiver, coming up to your shared home with a stomp of his boots to shake off the snow just before he enters.

To his surprise, he’s met with hushed music coming from the kitchen as he puts his winter coat on the hook, places his briefcase on the wooden floor, and shimmies out of his shoes. He looks at his watch first, making sure it’s not Jaemun’s nap time, to which he finds out it is. The soft music makes sense now, and he smiles when he makes his way down the hallway to the source of the noise.

The rest of the house is dark except for the kitchen-living room area that you and your baby rest in. Jaemun is peacefully sleeping in his bassinet by the couch, cuddling his dinosaur blanket, while you are by the stove, stirring something.

You look over your shoulder at the sound of familiar footsteps, and your heart immediately softens at the sight of your husband in the doorframe. He smiles back tiredly, running his hand through his hair in an exhausted attempt to pull himself together before he makes his way over to you. He looks relieved, like he’s finally received what he’s wanted all day. You’re happy to see him, knowing all too well that that’s what you’ve been waiting for all day, too.

Big, warm hands slide around your waist, a heavy chin rests on your shoulder as he kisses your cheek softly. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your presence as he releases the tension from work off his shoulders. You tend to have an instant effect on him — he missed you so much.

“You’re stirring water?” he laughs as he stares at the pot of water on the stove, unboiled, as you stir it as if it is.

“I’m trying to get it to boil quicker,” you explain with a defeated sigh. “Doesn’t seem to be working. I feel like I’ve been standing here for 20 minutes.”

He hums from behind you, taking your stirring hand and stopping your motions. You’ve never been a big cooker, but he knows you’ve been trying lately. “Just let it be, love. It’ll get there.”

You do as he says, putting the ladle down on the countertop and turning around in his embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck, staring at the tall man who holds you close against him. You’re met with a tired Jungkook who rests his forehead against yours as you play with the hairs at the back of his head.

“How was work?” you ask gently.

He groans, wrapping his hands around your waist and holding you tighter against him. It causes you to rest your cheek on his shoulder, hugging him in full.

“That bad?” you chuckle.

Your husband just sighs against your neck. “It’s too early to go back, Y/n,” he candors.

You tuck a strand of hair that fell in front of his face behind his ear. “We’re ok, Kook,” you comfort. But he only shakes his head, making the tucked strand fall out of its place again.

“I’m not,” he says. “I want to be here with you. Spend time with Jaemun before he’s suddenly 25.”

You chuckle at that. It does feel like that sometimes. It’s been three months since your son was born, but it feels like it was just yesterday that you were holding him for the first time.

You can only hold his cheek in response, running your thumb slowly against his soft skin. You feel for him, you really do. He’s such a good father. It makes your heartstrings tug and twist and pull every time you see him with your little boy. It’s only a matter of time before you have to go back to work as well. The thought makes your stomach turn, and you can completely sympathize with your husband dreading going back to work and leaving you and Jaemun.

“Your water is boiling,” he breaks you out of your daze.

“Oh,” you turn around. You smile, knowing he was right before. “I’m making pasta if that sounds ok?”

Jungkook kisses your neck in response, a gentle thing that has your tummy flipping for a second.

“You could also probably wake up our son,” you check the time on the microwave. “He’s been a little sleepy today, so I let his nap go for a little longer than usual.”

You add the pasta in and turn the water down, moving over to the greens left on the cutting board. You start chopping until your husband’s lips move lower.

“Our son,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone. The statement makes him jittery. It feels unreal still, even after nine months of waiting, and another three of actually having your little family here with him. You’re his wife, the mother of his kid, and he loves you more than anything in the world. You gave him something he can never find an equivalent to giving back to you. You gave him your heart and a family, and there’s nothing that can replace or overcome what that means to him. His soul lives for yours; it’s overwhelming what you’ve done for him. It’s overwhelming how you make him feel.

He kisses your collarbone softly once again, his heart full. You tilt your head to the side for more, and he gives it to you, kissing up your neck with slow wet kisses.

“Kook,” you exhale gently. You feel him hum against the skin just under your ear. Large palms cup your waist, his body moving closer to yours, trapping your hips against the countertop. Your knife feels loose in your hand when he bites at your skin gently, his tongue brushing over the bite mark afterward.

He stirs something within you. Something that you’ve missed terribly for the past few months. It makes your thighs tremble as he gently caresses your skin under his fingertips.

“The baby—“ you begin, but Jungkook’s motions cut you off yet again when his fingers slowly slide down your front. He’s unsure, his hand hesitating over your skin as his breath stops momentarily in thought.

“Is this okay?” He asks you genuinely. You nearly fall to your knees, dropping your knife onto the board, when his fingers put pressure over your clothed mound. It’s subtle, and much more gentle than what you’re used to with him. You know he’s being cautious, but god did you miss him. “If it’s too much, I’ll pull away.”

You shake your head.

It’s been a long time since the two of you have gotten intimate. Childbirth wasn’t easy, and your doctor just recently gave you two the “ok” for sex. The first time you tried since then wasn’t like what you’re used to with your husband. It was slow and painful, ending with a lot of apologies, embarrassment, and frustration. It’s safe to say that you have to get used to sex all over again.

“No,” you lean against him. “J-Just be gentle. I’m still a little sore.”

“Ok,” he whispers against your neck, kissing it softly. “Just relax for me, baby. I’ll make it feel good, I promise.”

You nod, loosening your nervous shoulders as your husband takes control. He stops swiftly for a second, turning the stove on the lowest setting before looking over his shoulder at his son to ensure he’s still fast asleep. Once he sees that he is, he immediately returns to you.

“So good for me,” he says, slowly circling your clit over your sweats. His other hand squeezes your waist before it moves up, sliding under your shirt and trickling over your breast. You’re wearing a soft bra today—one without an underwire—which makes it easier for him to slide his fingers under.

You whimper when he softly massages your boob, his fingers playing with your nipples gently. Your body, especially your breasts, has become 10x more sensitive since birth. You can feel everything, and everything either hurts or feels really really good. Whenever your husband seems to hold them, you’re a whimpering mess, melting like putty in his arms as he plays with you.

“Sensitive,” Jungkook smiles. His fingers rub harder against you, and you subtly buck your hips against him. His lips graze against your skin, his hair tickling your collarbone as he assaults your neck over and over again. 

“You’re so cute when you’re pregnant,” he rasps against your cheek before planting a sweet kiss upon it. “Wanna see you like that all the time. So full of me — carrying our babies.”

“Jungkook, I—” you whine, grasping onto his wrist. You’re unsure what to do with yourself, wanting him to do so much to you, but not knowing where to start.

The man behind you takes his hand away from your mound, and he chuckles when you whine in protest. But his thumbs hook on your pants and underwear, slowly pulling them down.

“Relax, baby,” he asks again. “I told you, I’m gonna take care of you. Don’t worry.”

His hand slides around your waist again, smoothing over your skin until it’s sliding between your folds. The back of your hand comes up to your mouth as your other grips the countertop for support as he plays with you.

“So wet,” he moans, feeling the effect he’s had on you with his fingers. “This all for me? I’ve barely touched you yet.”

You nod, feeling completely at the mercy of the man behind you. His other hand plays with your nipple again, and you feel another wave of euphoria go straight to your pussy.

His fingers gather your slick generously, smoothing it over your clit before circling it gently. He plays infinities over it, making your knees go weak. It’s getting harder to stay quiet, especially when he pinches your nipple gently, making you gasp at the soreness and pleasure it causes.

“K-Kook,” you whine, but he only chuckles, quickening his motions on your clit as he presses further into you. You can feel his dick strained against his work pants, and the thought of him inside you again makes you feel so needy for him. “Want you,” you pant. “Please.”

“Patience,” he shushes you, kissing your neck surely. “I haven’t even made you cum yet.”

“Wanna cum with you,” you whine in protest.

“You will,” he promises.

You gasp as he switches his finger, his thumb trading places with his middle. It circles over you just the same, except this time, it’s joined by his middle finger slowly inserting itself between your folds.

“Oh,” you exhale, feeling weak when he pumps it in and out of you slowly.

He lets himself test your reactions, seeing if the insertion is too much — if it hurts or feels uncomfortable. It doesn’t seem to be, and he slowly lets his ring finger join with his middle, causing you to roll your eyes back slightly.

“So good for me, baby,” he encourages. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” you reply almost immediately.

He kisses your neck. His lips leave hot, wet marks all over your skin as he curls his fingers against your g-spot. His other hand quickly comes to your waist, stabilizing you as you whimper against the back of your hand, trying your best to keep quiet.

He circles his thumb faster, his fingers circling and brushing against your g-spot in tandem with his movements. You feel your orgasm looming over you, and with a certain pressure against your clit, you’re coming undone just as he said you would all over his fingers.

“There you are,” he coaxes you. You’re a whimpering mess, and he feels his dick twitch at the sight of you falling apart on his fingers. He helps you ride out your high, his fingers very gently brushing over your clit as you come down.

Once you're calmed down, you reach around you, playing with his belt loop as you rest your head on his shoulder and look up at him. He looks back down, hesitating again knowing what you want but unsure if it’s too much for you to handle yet.

“What,” he smiles teasingly with a kiss to your forehead.

“I want you,” you candor, looking at up him with pleading eyes.

He kisses your nose. “Are you sure? You said it hurt last time.”

You nod. “Please, Koo,” you beg him.

His chest rises, and he takes a deep breath before he nods, kissing you gently as he unbuckles his belt. He places it on the counter before unzipping himself and pulling his pants down. It springs up, pressing itself against your skin gently. But he takes himself in his hands, hesitantly letting it slide down over your folds. 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” He says, lining himself up to you with a few strokes of his cock. God, was he nervous. The last time sex hurt really bad for you, and that was just a week ago. He wonders if the prep was enough; he hopes it was, he really doesn’t want to hurt you again.

You nod, holding onto the countertop again as his tip rubs against your entrance. Your coat his cock in such slickness, even you’re surprised at how much you leak onto him. You miss your husband. You need this bad, and so does he.

“Oh, and try to stay quiet, yeah?” He says with a push of his hips. The motion has him covering your mouth with his hand, shielding your moans quickly. “The baby is still sleeping.”

His dick slips past your folds so smoothly, it has you gasping for breath at how good it feels. It’s nothing like the last time. He’s gentler, but still so so big, he fills you up just right.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your neck once he sheathes himself fully inside of you. The man behind you stills, completely overwhelmed with the feeling of you. He, too feels like he’s had to relearn sex all over again. How to please you right now that your body has changed, how to make sure that you are comfortable with his pace and size. You two haven’t had sex like this in so long, he feels overwhelmed when you feel almost too good for him to control. A part of him is embarrassed by how quickly he thinks he’s going to last. 

“How are you still so tight, hm?” he asks with a firm grip on your hip. “Y-You okay?”

You can only nod, pushing your hips down against him. The motion forces him further into you, to which both of you grunt at the feeling.

Testingly, Jungkook pulls out slowly, before pushing back into you a little quicker than before. You coat him generously, creating a motion that makes it easy for him to repeat. 

He develops a pace, fucking you against the kitchen countertop with your juices leaking all over his cock and down your thighs. The stove is on and your baby still sleeps; there are uncut vegetables in front of you and your husband still wears his work shirt. But he fucks you as if none of that matters. As if his only priority is to make sure you feel good, to let yourself go as he fuck you deep and just how you like it. 

His hand comes off from your mouth and settles on your hip. His other hand wraps around your front, holding you impossibly close against his body.

You moan softly when he bends you over slightly against the countertop, the new angle making it hard for you to stay quiet. But you push your hips against him anyway, telling him without words to go deeper.

The action causes him to moan, following your request with a snap of his hips.

“You like it that much, hm?” He grunts, cock ramming into you. “Like it when I knock you up good?”

“Y-Yes!” You whisper. “I love it so much, Koo.”

“Y-yeah?” He leans over you. A tattooed hand cups over yours, palm embracing the back of your hand as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Gonna let me do it again?”

“Mmhm,” you squeeze his fingers. “As many times as y-you want.”

“A-Ah,” he pants, mind going into a frenzy over your words. The fact that he is yours, that you are his. That only he can hear you say that. That only he can make you feel this good. That only he has the privilege of calling you his wife. It makes his heart warm and his cock twitch. 

“God, I’m going to ruin you if you say things like that, Y/n,” he warns. But you are relentless, leaning your head back on his shoulder, giving yourself to him further. 

“W-Want you to,” you whimper. “I love you.” 

Your legs shake, completely weak from your past orgasm and your new one forming at the pit of your stomach. His cock makes you feel so full, like you’re stretched to the max capacity as he fucks you good. You know he’s close when his dick twitches inside of you after your words, which only encourages you to gain some strength and begin fucking yourself back on his cock.

“Mm, fuck,” he grips your hips tightly. “M’ gonna cum.”

He quickly reaches around you again, drawing infinities over your clit with his middle finger. His eyes roll back as your cunt naturally tightens at the feeling. Your hips jolt and the knots in your tummy slowly start to unravel themselves onto his dick as you come undone. Just as he had promised, with a final twitch, he’s cumming inside of you with hot, thick ropes filling you up with whispered exhales of your name on his lips.

He lets the two of you catch your breath, his forehead resting on your shoulder before he’s pulling out, shared cum leaking down your thighs and onto the floor. Quickly, he grabs a paper towel from the roll next to the stove and cleans you up a little.

With gentle hands, he helps you back into your sweats before he helps himself into his boxers. He still lingers behind you when he reaches a hand around you and turns the stove on a higher setting once again. 

You turn around, wrapping your hands around his neck as you pull him in for a much-needed kiss. “I love you,” you whisper against him again. His hair falls onto your skin, dark locks intertangling with yours as his fingers come up to hold your face against his. Soft lips sear over yours, telling you things that simply cannot be put into words. 

“I love you, too,” he brushes his nose against yours. “Was that okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

You pause, looking up at his dilated pupils. He looks at you like you're his world; like he's given you his heart with the full intent of never receiving it back from you. You nod, kissing him softly again. 

“You should probably wake up your son now,” you poke his cheek.

Looking at the time on the microwave, he snaps out of his daze. “Oh fuck,” he says as his fingers leave your side. You watch him leave you with a chuckle, turning back to your pasta wondering how in the world you go so lucky to marry and mother a kid to this man. You’d truly give him anything he wanted. 

***

[Bonus]

With gentle hands, so big against his baby’s frame, he picks Jaemun up in his arms, holding him against his chest. His dinosaur blanket swaddles him softly, and Jungkook does his best to make sure he’s correctly supported and held despite the extra fabric over his small frame. 

Jaemun stirs, and Jungkook places a soft kiss on his tiny head before he gets the chance to freak out and cry. The baby seems to know exactly who is holding him, and he nearly falls back asleep at the familiarity of his father’s arms. But Jungkook bounces him against his chest softly, slowly waking him up for dinnertime.

He makes his way over to you, making unnecessary airplane noises, from what you assume is Jungkook pretending to be an airplane and his son the passenger.

“You know, babies can’t laugh until they’re about 4 months,” you shake your head with a laugh.

“False,” your husband comes behind you again. “I swear he’s laughed before.”

You chuckle, taking the pan off the stove and pouring the insides into a strainer. Just the noodles are left in the strainer now, and you realize that you haven’t thought past the part of boiling the noodles. You ignore that you have no idea what kind of pasta you’re making when Jungkook rests himself against the kitchen island. 

Jaemun catches sight of you, and his arm reaches for you in Jungkook’s hold. You come over, giving him a kiss on the forehead before kissing your husband.

“Were you serious?” your husband asks you suddenly. 

“About?” you raise your eyebrow. 

“You know,” he gulps, holding Jaemun a little tighter. He rests against Jungkook's shoulder, his eyes tempting to fall back asleep again. “More kids.” 

You raise both your eyebrows again, looking at him as if he was serious. His heart beats faster when he realizes what you’re thinking, quickly rephrasing himself. 

“N-Not now, of course,” he gulps. 

You turn around, opening the fridge for some milk for Jaemun as you listen to him. You take out a pot, take the cased breast milk from earlier, and pour it in, turning on the stove afterward. 

“I just mean, like, in the future,” he explains.

There’s a long pause as you wait for the pot to heat up enough. The man behind you is weak, and you don’t know if you want to be mean and give him the blunt answer, or soften the blow. Watching how he cradles your son makes you want to go with the first choice. 

“Don’t you worry Jeon,” you start, as you stir the contents in the pot. You can hear him gulp behind you. “I planned on giving you as many babies as you want. But at least wait until Jaemun is in pre-school or something. I don’t think I can handle two infants at once.” 

You hear little from him at your answer, leaving you smirking knowing full well that you put the man behind you in a frenzy imagining the future you just laid out for him.

***

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Secretly Mine

Summary: Spencer and Reader have been seeing each other for a while without the team's knowledge

Category: Fluff

Couple: Spencer/BAU Fem!Reader

Content warnings: None

Word count: 1.5k

Eight months have passed since your arrival at the BAU. You’re an integral part of the team. Hotch has been sure to let you know. You’ve stood out with your eye for detail at certain crime scenes, outshining even some of the team’s more seasoned members. Luckily, the academy’s rumors about the Quantico team’s bond have rang true time and time again, so competition and jealousy never became an issue. It only made them respect you and even open up to you.

One person who has particularly opened up to you is the genius of the group, Spencer Reid. The secret you learned: he’s a gentle kisser. Almost childishly chaste, but nothing seemed more fitting for his personality. What was surprising was the setting of your first kiss.

New York City police invited the team to investigate the terrorist cell killing random people across the city. Their attacks grew more volatile by the time you all arrived, placing bombs on government vehicles. One of these bombs hurt Hotch, and SSA Joyner did not survive the same blast. The results could have been worse, considering.

Your team faced the problem of uncertainty regarding who (if anyone) had been injured at that moment. Spencer was with Rossi at the police station while the rest of you were on the ground. That damn terrorist organization interfered with signals and transmissions all the time, and this was no different. You, by your luck, were the most difficult to get in contact with, despite being safe at Federal Plaza. You met with the team when it was safe to do so and all targeted areas were cleared. Most of you sighed in relief. Garcia even held your face, as if to make sure you were real, alive and, breathing.

Spencer held your face too, but not in the same way. You both took refuge by the water cooler, surprisingly where no one was present in a once-crowded New York City police station. You talked about what happened, Hotch’s current condition, and how long to expect these nerves to last. Your nerves didn’t settle, though, when Spencer’s knuckles brushed your cheek as he said, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You didn’t blame these nerves, though, when you leaned into the touch, looking up at him with a smile. “I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

Spencer was cute, obviously, but workplace relationships are highly unprofessional and even a liability, if the case they just survived wasn’t enough proof of that. You’d think (well, you knew actually) Spencer of all people would know this. He knows everything. When you had a case in Baltimore involving the Ravens, he told you their name came from Edgar Allan Poe’s most famous poem. Then he explained the detailed theories surrounding his untimely death. Spencer believes it has something to do with cooping, whatever that means, you dared not to ask. There’s nothing he doesn’t consider.

So, Spencer must have considered all the odds of professional behavior in that moment by the water cooler since his lips delicately brushed yours. It was barely a kiss at first, until he leaned in for another, to where you could feel the warmth of his mouth and felt that he could do with some lip exfoliant. The last part you didn’t care about because it was practically over before it began. Neither of you said anything about it. Instead, you stayed there for a while, not touching or talking. Then Morgan told the team to pack up and get ready to go home.

Throughout the past month, you and Spencer have shared many kissing sessions. Not at work, though, because you both still have some sense. Kissing Spencer, though, tends to not leave you with much sense. His gentleness is not a front. His touches are tender and he’s never pushed you beyond your limits. It’s a good thing then that he’s a gentleman, so he earned kisses through dinners, movies, and day trips. It was something to look forward to in between grueling cases.

And it wasn’t even off work when Spencer would bring joy to you. There was a case recently in North Carolina that shook you more than you cared to admit. You didn’t want to mention what specifically, as it’s something you haven’t spoken about in a long time, but the team picked up on it quickly. They checked on you and even asked if you needed to sit out. You powered through and came to a satisfactory (for lack of a better word) conclusion. Afterward, Spencer invited you to ice cream. It was a welcoming change of scenery, despite the ice cream place being called Jack the Dipper. It was hilariously fitting, so it really wasn’t an issue. Spencer didn’t ask about what happened or what made you feel so disturbed. Throughout the night, he just made sure to ask if you were okay.

You haven’t been okay for a while. Not because of that case, but because it’s been three months now and you are still running around with Spencer without the team’s knowledge. The team might feel cheated (and Hotch might be pissed) because they are not aware of this information, but the uneasiness of all this was starting to settle in. The fear, the worry that this might just be all for nothing. Outside of the office, he shows that he cares. He knows things about you that you haven't revealed in some time. And apparently he has done the same. Bruises from harsh kisses around your bodies linger under work clothes from a weekend in, and the team has been none the wiser. And you’re not sure if you’re as okay with it as you thought you were.

The team went out to the bar on a Thursday, celebrating a government holiday the night before (i.e. a three-day weekend). The team took shots, bet money, threw darts, and Emily ended up with the most by closing. You would’ve coughed up more cash throughout the night if you were confident in your bets.

Spencer barely looked at you. Didn’t brush your hand or even stand near you for too long, like you had the plague or whatever Poe died from. It didn’t help the feeling in your core, and neither did the walk home. Morgan drove Garcia home, Hotch with Rossi, and J.J. with Emily. And of course, Spencer with you. When J.J. drove away after boasting about avoiding a ticket on an expired meter, Spencer didn’t hesitate to reach for your hand. It was nice, and as the weather grew colder, it was a welcomed warmth. But how could it not feel at least a little sour?

His apartment wasn’t far from here, so you walked. Your hands were laced the entire time, but he didn’t breathe a word and you couldn’t tell if that should make you feel better or worse.

It wasn’t until you climbed the steps to his door that he asked, “Are you staying the night?”

You swallowed. Unlike Emily, Garcia, and Rossi, you were on the side of tipsy rather than in dire need of a toilet to bury your head into. “Sure.” You said. “If you want me to.”

“Yeah,” He said, fiddling with his key and lock. “Of course I want you to.”

He finally opens the door and turns on the living room light. You barely had time to put your purse down before his lips were on yours. They were still chapped like the first time, except you could forgive that because of the growing cold outside. His hands hold your waist, they creep to your back. You couldn’t help but lean in, away from the door he pressed you into. It was when Spencer moaned in your mouth that you broke away. Catching your breath, you try putting together a sentence. But breathing is difficult right now for both of you. Spencer’s eyes are lazy and his breath still lingers with a scent of the mint gum he spit out when he showed up to the bar.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you think it’s the start to an actual apology. “I was trying to stay patient.” He kisses you again, softly. And you kiss him back still. He moans again. “I want you.”

You swallow again. Your throat is so dry. “Spencer, I—”

“I want to tell them.” He interrupts.

You blink, it quickens as you take in the words. “What?”

His hands cup your face. He brushes the messy bangs from your forehead. “I want to tell them. About this. About us. I just…” He trails off. That is not something you’re used to seeing. “I want more time with you.”

As Spencer’s words sank in, you felt a mix of apprehension and longing, wondering just what could go wrong. A lot, in fact. But you have to believe he’s being honest. Why wouldn’t he be?

And with a soft smile, you reached for his hand and met his gaze. “I want that too,” you said, feeling the weight of it finally being lifted off your chest. “I’ve wanted that for a while.”

“I know. And I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you about it earlier. I was being selfish.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“But I would. Because it’s true. But that changes now.” The look on his face, the fully sober look on his face. He’s all in. “I will tell them you’re my girlfriend.”

[honeytonedhottie]

getting it together⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍡

it feels GOOD to have all ur assignments done. to actively pursue ur dreams and goals. to be consistent and in turn -> see results. it feels good to give meaning to ur time and experience sustained satisfaction. this post will give an overview/guide of the BASICS of getting it together. that way whenever u get off track (cuz we're all human) u can easily reference this and get it TOGETHER.

SLEEP SCHEDULE - how does ur sleep schedule look? is it all over the place? fix it. the plan is to get between the range of 8-10 hours of sleep every single night (yes even on the weekends) and to wake up no later than 8 in the morning.

i recommend formulating a "get ready for bed" routine. mine is set with a soothing playlist, a cup of tea, and copious time for self care and meditating on my manifestations. ur night time routine is customizable to YOU, however the goal is to get away from screens or anything that'll tempt you to stay up at unhealthy hours.

THE MORNING ROUTINE - i think that the most influential and important time of the day is the morning. bcuz for me that sets the mood of my whole entire day, so i take my mornings SERIOUSLY and i think you should too.

for me in the morning, i do a light pilates workout/stretch to get my blood pumping, and i feel like it gives me such a boost of energy and sets the mood for the whole day so if u haven't tried i rly recommend working out in the morning. however since this post is for when you've gotten off track start SMALL. a short 5-10 minute stretch or pilates routine is more than enough.

THE IMPORTANCE OF GETTING READY - and i'll STAND ON THIS. even if ur not going anywhere at all that day, make an effort to get ready. make casual glamor a HABIT. getting ready is like, the best part of my day. its so therapeutic, something about the meticulous attention and the amount of time that i pour into myself it feels AMAZING. when u look good -> you feel good

A TO DO LIST - plan out ur week, plan out ur day, ur month. make a super cute calendar or agenda so that way you can get ur tasks done. im someone who needs super detailed instructions of what TO do, so when ik what im supposed to do i can get it done and i can get it done well. and instead of thinking of it as a to-do list, think of it as like a quest or something. tasks that u need to do and then -> you get something in return

ik it sounds rly dumb but sometimes when theres a mundane task that i know i must do, i imagine that im like a SIMS character who has no choice. or i imagine myself as a video game character who is doing it as a task cuz its part of the game. the point of me sharing that hot tip is to make it FUN for yourself. give urself something to look forward to afterwards too. like an episode of ur favorite drama, or a sweet treat.

CLEAN UP - a cluttered space = a cluttered mind. take 20 minutes aside everyday to tidy up so that then u can avoid the day-long cleaning on the weekend and actually enjoy it. when ur space is neat and organized, so is ur mind and it translates to how u view/respect urself. u show that you respect urself when u dwell in a place that it is neat and tidy.

PROPEL YOURSELF - when i've been rotting for a couple days, my go-to routine to propel myself back into my usual swing is : shower (an everything shower is a bit ambitious so go for it if u want) -> drink a COLDDD large glass of water -> do the process of getting ready and then do at least 3 tasks and 2 smaller tasks)

[lundenloves]

fatherhood

This happened. *Holding a fist to my mouth, biting on them knuckles.* This happened as a combination result of an awful sleeping schedule and unemployment. Banged this out in an hour. Don’t tell me it’s obvious, i’ll fold. Happy reading, kids.

↳ no warnings | 1.1k | f!reader

part two | dad!simon masterlist

the way his eyes make me want to howl in tears while digging my own grave isn’t actually canon. sigh.

Ghost stood still for thirty-two seconds, standing in near open fire on enemy view. One that was only guarded by a particularly large tree, saving his life when Soap had dragged him down to cover by his tac vest. “What the fuck, Lt.” He’d shout over the fire, his brows tightened in a frown toward his lieutenant. “Eh?”

Ignoring the sergeant, Ghost would continue the rest of the assault half-heartedly. Which was disconcerting to say the least, and so, so unlike him. Only mumbling over the comms when required, saving the already minimal chit-chat and failing to hear the multiple requests for backup from Gaz.

Johnny had been bold that night. Hitting his lieutenant on the shoulder and fucking grabbing his mask, turning Ghost’s head toward him. Well, for the mere two seconds Simon had allowed for it before pushing him off. “What’s wrong with you, Lt? For fuck sake. You’re scaring me ae.”

“Focus, Sergeant.”

“Naw. You focus, sir.” He placed a hand on Ghost’s shoulder, before standing up and checking round the corner. “Let’s move, yeah?”

Simon’s jaw tightened under his mask, begrudgingly following Soap. Comms fucking yapping on in his ear, and he barked back at them while gesturing Johnny keep walking. It wasn’t ideal, yet so poignant to see him so different.

You.

You had gone into labour with Simon’s baby. The issue was, he had found out before going out on the current assault. His military mind raced with every possible travesty to do with childbirth. He feared you weren’t going to make it without him for unknown reasons, he felt it.

Soap didn’t know. No one knew.

He was good at that, keeping things to himself. Especially the things that ate at him — never did they ever come out aside from when Johnny forced them. Even then it was a battle.

So when they arrived back to base in safety, all trudging back to a meeting room. Gathering thoughts and sharing collected information, it was odd that Simon hadn’t shown. Not just odd, but almost scandalous as Johnny would say.

No messages. Nothing.

He hadn’t heard from you and in his head that meant fucking death at this rate. The balaclava came off for a split second, looking at himself in the lens of some sunglasses sat on a shelf adjacent to him. The stubble he had left was itchy against the fabric, smoothing his hand across his jaw he put his head into his hands.

Although, the balaclava was back on in under a minute for the subconscious feeling of vulnerability creeping in. And he was right to feel so when the door to his office had been knocked on, so light that he knew it was Soap before even opening the door.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, standing in front of his desk with arms crossed. Johnny entered and shut the door behind him, his hands flat on the surface.

“Lt. Are you alright, sir?” The way his eyes narrowed was enough to make Simon’s roll.

“Just grand.”

Although the tough facade was almost dropped when his phone had pinged from the desk. Jaw tensing at the sound, he was sure his fingers had twitched at the need to reach behind himself for it. Soap stared pointedly at the way the heel of his boot tapped against the floor, his fingers now looped in the pockets of his tac vest.

“Check it then.” The Scot nodded toward the desk.

“Do you need anything?” Simon asked. The dead stare he gave was piercing, shifting his feet to lean forward from the desk a little.

Johnny pointed to the desk, “It’s ringing, sir.”

For a moment, Simon did consider kicking Johnny out but figured. Fuck it. Reaching for the phone behind him to find it were a FaceTime from you, his own masked face staring back at him. This was probably it. The worst or best news of his life only a swipe away. With fucking Johnny MacTavish only feet away from whatever reaction Simon would undoubtedly suppress.

And well, it wasn’t so bad, Soap knew you. He knew you well. Well enough to the point where throughout your pregnancy he had been labelled ‘uncle Johnny’ by yourself much to Simon's demise

So when he swiped to answer, and was virtually face-to-face with a newborn it was a… chaotic feeling in his stomach to say the least. One that dropped to the floor when the baby had cried loud, a strangled babble that turned into a scream.

“Shh, shh,” Your voice mumbled over the line, zero energy throughout but just enough for Simon. “Daddy is there. Look baby, he’s here.” You had framed both yourself and the tiny baby on your chest, voice wavering with the last few words.

Johnny couldn’t save himself from the steps he took forward, planting a hard grip on Simon’s shoulder and shaking him slightly in glee. “Congratulations, mate.”

Simon took the balaclava off, his hair strewn across his forehead and spiking in every which way. He had no idea what to say, holding the fabric close to his chest and staring in awe.

“She’s beautiful, Si.” Was all you had said, obviously exhausted but confirming the gender for the first time.

Simon felt his knees buckle at the thought of having a little girl in the world, the familiar feeling of worry was completely wiped. The image of the little person enough to change his whole mindset, no longer was he scared but ready.

Ready to give his little girl whatever she wanted.

He was still lost for words when the call had ended. A promise of another at the same time tomorrow was the only thing that kept him upright, pulling the balaclava back on and looking to Johnny who cracked a grin.

“You’re a fuckin’ dad, Lt.”

He nodded, rubbing his eyes before holding the door open for the two of them. “Can I tell ‘em?” Soap continued, gesturing toward the group they were walking to.

“If you must.” Simon let a small smile take his face, content in the fact it was well hidden.

“Oi!” He’d called out, jogging ahead of his lieutenant and slamming his hands on the information table, sending many papers flying off edges. “Lt has stepped into fatherhood.”

The men erupted into deep voiced cheers just to wind their lieutenant up, all shaking his shoulders and drawing the attention of the whole fucking camp toward them.

It was the first time he had felt himself smile properly in months. His ears tinted a deep red although not visible, neck likewise.

Fatherhood it was.

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! i’ll sit in a hole if no one pats me on the head every now and then.

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[melzula]

All I Ever Wanted

pairing: zuko x reader

notes: this was originally requested by an anon but i also took inspiration from mitski’s song “your best american girl” while writing this. give it a listen during your read !

summary: as a peasant and servant girl for the palace, you should have known better than to fall for the Prince

The sun is warm against your skin and the grass is soft beneath you as you land on your back in a fit of giggles. Azula is unamused by your antics, but Zuko finds himself laughing right along with you. It’s a peaceful summer’s day in the palace gardens, and you spend it as you would any other day by playing with your friends.

“I caught you,” you tell him with a breathless laugh after turning your head to face him.

“No way, I was just going easy on you,” he argues with playful grin, his nose nearly brushing against your own due to your close proximity on the grass. Your heart beats fast in your rib cage as you try to ignore the rising heat on your face and play it off as a result of your exhaustion and not your nerves from lying with the Prince. You haven’t realized it yourself, but you have a crush on Zuko, a painfully obvious one that he hasn’t seemed to notice yet. What you also don’t realize is that he reciprocates the feeling, and he shares the thrill that comes with being your playmate.

“Are you two done yet?” Azula finally interrupts with a roll of her eyes as she offers you her hand and helps you up from the ground. “It’s my turn to hide this time.”

“I don’t think we can play anymore,” Zuko notes with a frown as his mother makes her way towards your group. You quickly bow in respect to the Fire Lady, but she waves you off with a smile.

“I’m sorry, y/n, but Zuko and Azula must attend their fire bending lessons now. I’m afraid playtime is over for today,” she informs you apologetically.

“Yes, Fire Lady Ursa,” you reply politely before turning to give both of your friends departing hugs. “Bye Zuko, bye Azula!”

“It’s too bad you’re not a fire bender,” Azula remarks after halfheartedly returning your embrace. “Maybe dad would let us play with you more if you were.”

Her words make your body hot with embarrassment and shame, and though you don’t voice your discomfort Ursa is instantly able to pick up on it. With a scolding glare, the Fire Lady quickly urges her daughter to apologize.

“Azula, that is not a nice thing to say to a friend.”

“But it’s true,” the girl mutters under her breath only to have her mother drag her away before she can get the chance to say anything else. Zuko hesitates then, giving you an apologetic look and promising to play with you tomorrow before rushing after Ursa and Azula.

You’ve never really cared about being a non-bender, but there’s something about Azula’s words that has you questioning your worth. As the daughter of a royal family servant with no title or money to her name, you knew you were lucky to be able to grow up in the palace and play with the Fire Lord’s children. However, you never once realized that you weren’t their equal. They were royalty, a Prince and a Princess destined to become powerful benders and ruthless leaders of the Fire Nation, and you were simply a girl who would one day grow up to live a life of servitude. You had no real future or purpose ahead of you, not like they did, and yet you were the only one unaware of your unfortunate fate.

Perhaps it’s because they never treated you in such a way, and your mother did her best to shield you from your true heritage. For now you could grow up blissfully unaware of the fact that your friends would one day outgrow you.

“Mom?” Zuko asks once they’re safe inside the palace. “Do you like y/n?”

“She’s a sweet girl,” Ursa notes with a faint smile, “and she makes you both happy. So yes, I like her.”

“Then why doesn’t Dad?”

The Fire Lady’s smile fades into a remorseful frown, and she simply ushers her son forward with a shake of her head. “Let’s not worry about that now. You’re going to be late for your lesson.”

Zuko isn’t satisfied with her answer, but he isn’t give a chance to discuss it further with her. For now, he remains content with the fact that he likes you, and his mother likes you.

That is enough for him.

~~~

The day is calm as you carefully hang the clothes to dry and enjoy the warmth of the sun basking on your skin. It’s rare that you get tasked with the outdoor chores, so you savor the opportunity for as long as you can. Doing the royal family’s laundry certainly beats scrubbing the floors of the palace, and you are grateful the spirits have taken mercy upon you today.

You’re freshly fifteen and the summer is just beginning. You’ve grown into a well-mannered young woman, and you’re old enough now to be able to take on some of the work that once fell to your mother. One day you will take her place and continue to serve the royal family until you’re no longer physically able. You’ll never get to leave, but you consider yourself grateful to live on the palace grounds. You will forever have a roof over your head, food on the table, and, most importantly, your friends.

You take great care to pin Azula’s dresses down without getting any creases or wrinkles in the fabric, and you’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice the figure carefully creeping up behind you. You’re too busy reciting the words to an old Fire Nation folk song your mother had taught you to pay any mind to your surroundings, and it gives Zuko the perfect opportunity to catch you by surprise.

“Y/n!” He exclaims with a grin as his hands land firmly upon your shoulders. You nearly jump out of your skin at the act, and your reaction has the Fire Prince laughing so hard his cheeks begin to hurt.

“Zuko!” You scold with an irritated scowl as you chuck a handful of clothespins at him in retaliation. “You need to stop doing that!”

“I’m sorry, you just make it so easy,” he teases with a light nudge to your side before taking it upon himself to pick up the pins you’d discarded.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to leave for Ember Island?” You ask him with a quizzical look as you resume your previous work of hanging the clothes.

“That’s actually what I was coming to talk to you about,” he admits with a sheepish smile. “I want you to come with us.”

“What? You’re not serious, are you?” You retort apprehensively, halting your movements to gauge his reaction for any hint of insincerity or humor.

“I am serious. You deserve to have fun once in a while too,” he notes with a careful smile. You’re too oblivious to notice the look of admiration on his face and definitely too concerned with finding a way to let him down gently to realize he’s inviting you because he likes you. Despite your own feelings for the Prince you’ve developed over the years, you’re much too self-depreciating to ever believe Zuko could possibly feel the same. If only you knew.

“I can’t just up and leave! There’s work to be done, a-and my mother would be so upset with me if I abandoned my chores and-“

“Azula will tell our father she wishes to bring you along as a personal servant so you can come with us, and someone else will be tasked with taking on your work while you’re away. There’s no way your mom could be upset with you for serving the Princess, could she?”

“Azula would really do that for me?” You question meekly, a hopeful glint in your eyes as you hang on to his every word. You’re trying your best not to get your hopes up, but you wish for nothing more than to leave the capital city to see the ocean for the first time and feel the sand beneath your feet. As the daughter of a servant and now a servant yourself, you know you’d never get a chance like this if not for the fact that the siblings had grown fond of you over your years of friendship together. You’re lucky, because you know without them you’d truly be nothing more than a floor scrubbing peasant.

“Of course she would, she wants you there just as much as I do,” Zuko assures you. Gently taking your hands in his own, he gives them a comforting squeeze and looks into your eyes with a loving smile. “We leave tomorrow morning. Bring enough clothes to last you three days and a bathing suit.”

“I don’t own one,” you admit with an embarrassed frown, but your friend doesn’t display any sign of judgement in the slightest towards your shortcomings.

“Then I’ll take you shopping myself when we get there.”

Your heart melts at his words, your gaze falling to the ground bashfully as you try not to dwell on the fact that he’s still holding your hands. You’re in love with the Prince, and the Prince is in love with you, and everyone but you has figured out just how much you mean to each other.

Even Fire Lord Ozai, who odiously watches the scene unfold before him from the top of the palace balcony.

~~~

The shores of Ember Island are beautiful.

The waves almost seem to sparkle underneath the moonlight as they crash peacefully against the shore, and down below the lively chatter of your friends carries through the air and fills your heart with contentment. You’ve had the most perfect time here at the beach, and it pains you to know that tonight will be your last night of freedom before you must return home and resume your life as a servant girl.

The wooden doors behind you carefully slide open and closed, and soon a familiar warmth joins you out on the balcony. For a while you say nothing, simply enjoying the closeness of him as you watch Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai practice tricks in the sand below. You don’t know how to thank the Prince for all he’s done for you, for always looking out for you since you were children, for never once treating you as less than for your heritage. You don’t know how to tell him that you love him with your entire being.

So he does it for you.

“I got you something,” Zuko says after a moment’s silence, waiting for you to turn your gaze to him so he may pull out a small clam from beneath his robes. You raise a curious eyebrow at his offering as he gestures for you to take it.

“A clam shell?” You note inquisitively as you turn the gift around in your palms, carefully feeling out its grooves and intricate ridges.

“Open it,” he directs you quietly, anxiously watching your movements with bated breath.

You smile curiously at your friend before delicately pulling the top half of the shell open to reveal the contents inside. Your eyes widen in surprise at the gift that greets you, and you immediately look up to Zuko to ensure this isn’t some kind of joke.

Inside the clam sits a beautiful gold necklace with a dainty sun pendant resting in the center that shimmers under the light of the moon. It’s beautiful, and it’s certainly worth more than your own life, which is why you immediately try to hand it back to him.

“I-I can’t accept this!” You hastily insist with a quick shake of your head as you struggle to return the clam to him. “It’s too nice!”

“You can accept this,” Zuko reassures you as he carefully pushes the gift back towards you. When his efforts fail due to your persistent attempts to give back the shell, he lets out a sigh and carefully removes the necklace from the clam. “Y/n, I want you to have it.”

“But why?” You demand apprehensively, almost flinching away when he moves towards you with the necklace. You’re completely overwhelmed by his gift and unsure of what it means or why you’d ever be deserving of such a thing. You don’t want to take advantage of his kindness or his status, and you feel like he’s done more than enough for you by bringing you along on this trip, so it just feels wrong of you to take it.

“Because you deserve nice things too,” Zuko explains, and after giving you a pointed look you finally allow him to carefully put the necklace on you. The sun rests daintily along your neck, and he thinks it suits you perfectly. “I brought you on this trip because I wanted you to have fun for once, but also because… well, because I love you, and I thought a romantic setting might make it easier to tell you that.”

“You love me?”

“You haven’t noticed?” He retorts with a meek smile. “I’m not the best at words, but I know that I’ve loved you since we were children feeding turtle ducks in the pond and playing tag in the gardens. You have the purest heart of anyone I know, the sweetest smile, you are everything to me. I hope that by accepting this gift, you’ll be accepting me as someone worthy enough to be your boyfriend.”

“Oh, Zuko…” you murmur softly, eyes full of tears as you throw yourself into his arms and hug him as tight as humanly possible. You’re still shocked by the fact that the boy you love will all your heart feels the same, but you try to remind yourself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Zuko is right when he says that you deserve to enjoy what life has to offer just as much as he does, so maybe it’s time you finally start allowing yourself the chance to finally let your guard down. You can be more than just a servant girl from the palace.

You can be happy.

~~~

You sit quietly before the vanity mirror as your mother tediously brushes through your hair to ensure not a single strand is out of place. The wrinkles in her skin crease with her nerves as she carefully begins to pin your hair back into the perfect top knot. Immediately after your return home from Ember Island, you were informed that the Fire Lord wished to speak with you. You were expected to drop your chores for the day and make yourself decent before presenting yourself to him. His request to see you surprised you considering the fact you previously believed he didn’t even know of your existence, but it made you nervous all the same. If anything were to go wrong during your meeting, you’d be jeopardizing both yours and your mother’s jobs.

“Make sure to sit up straight and no slouching,” she reminds you quietly while stopping to admire her work. “Hold your tongue until he allows you to speak and thank him for all he has done for us. It is a great honor to speak to Fire Lord Ozai, so you must treat it as such.”

“Mother, what could the Fire Lord possibly want to talk to me about?”

She doesn’t meet your eyes at first, looking away as if contemplating carefully what her next words should be. With a sigh, she sets the brush down and looks at you through the reflection. “Word has spread quickly about you and Prince Zuko, and I think he knows.”

You swallow nervously at her admission, absently brushing your fingers against the sun that hangs around your neck. You never once considered what Zuko’s father would think about his son’s choice of a partner; Ursa had always treated you as one of her own, and Azula considered you to be a good friend, but what would Ozai say of the peasant girl who had stolen his son’s heart?

You don’t have much time to mull over it further as a guard arrives to escort you from your quarters to the throne room. All eyes seem to follow you as you walk through the palace, the gold and red hues overwhelming your senses as you do your best to remain calm. You have no idea what awaits you at the end of the hallway, but there’s no escape now as the grand doors open and you’re pushed inside.

Ozai sits on the throne with a wall of flames roaring behind him. His features are stoic but his gaze is menacing as his eyes watch your meager form approach. You immediately bow in respect to the man once you reach him and kneel before his seated figure. Just as your mother instructed, you say nothing until you are spoken to.

“So you’re the girl my son has chosen to be his partner?” He drawls with a raised brow, obviously not impressed by the person before him.

“Yes, sir. It is an honor to present myself to you, my Lord,” you profess as earnestly as possible while adding another bow for good measure. You need his approval not only to continue dating Zuko, but also to ensure you and your mother are both able to continue living behind the palace walls. Even if you are there as servants tucked away in the peasant quarters, it certainly is a better place to be than out in the streets.

“I know who you are, child,” Ozai scoffs callously as he peers down at you from his place on the throne. “You are the peasant girl who managed to worm her way into the lives of my children. You are a lowly servant with nothing to your name and nothing special about you, and yet you have managed to corrupt my only son."

“Fire Lord Ozai, I-I apologize if my actions have upset you,” you quickly try to interject, but he holds a hand up and signals you to halt your pathetic rambling. Ozai does not have the time nor care to hear your excuses or explanations. That’s not what this meeting is for.

“Do you know how poorly it would reflect on me to have Zuko galavanting around the palace with a servant? Do you know how poorly it reflects on him to be seen with you? It’s a disgrace, and it is something I will not tolerate.”

“I know,” you utter quietly, trying to make yourself appear as small as you feel on the inside. Despite what Zuko has told you, you know that his father is right. You are nothing compared to him. He is the sun, the Prince, the heir to the throne. His future ahead is bright, and there is much for him to accomplish. You have no future, no plans for your life, nothing as grand or important as him and Azula. You are not the sun or the moon or even the stars that hang in his sky, you are insignificant, and you will never be worthy enough to be his.

“A future Fire Lord cannot have a maid as a wife. You must break his heart so that he no longer wants anything to do with you, so that he can move on and find a girl more worthy of becoming the future Fire Lady. You must make it appear to be your own doing and not mine, otherwise it won’t work. Have I made myself clear, child?”

“Yes, Fire Lord Ozai,” you whisper softly, a single tear sliding down your cheek as you bow to the cruel man before you. “I understand.”

~~~

The clouds that hang overhead are gray as Zuko makes his way towards the servants’ quarters. It is unheard of for any royal to ever set foot on these grounds, and so all eyes watch the Prince curiously as he approaches your humble home and knocks gently on the door. Movement sounds from the other side, and after a moment he is met with the startled face of your mother. It’s clear that she hadn’t been expecting him, and he takes her by surprise when he bows to the woman in respect.

“I apologize for coming unannounced, but I was hoping I could speak to y/n,” he utters with a look of defeat on his face. His sullen features make his lack of sleep obvious, and his eyes are full of desperation. You’ve been avoiding him for weeks and he has no clue as to why, but he hopes to figure it out soon before he starts to spiral any further.

“She’s…” your mother begins to say, glancing unsurely behind her before looking back to him, “she’s not feeling well. You can come back another time.”

“But-“

“Please, Prince Zuko, we can’t risk you catching whatever it is she’s come down with. You must go.”

She gives him no time to argue before slamming the door in his face. Zuko is stunned, but his shock quickly turns to anger as he lets out a frustrated breath of flames from his mouth before stalking off to cool himself down.

His footsteps fade into the distance as he departs, and you can only sit by the window of your room and watch him walk away. There’s a tightness in your chest that makes you feel as if you can’t breathe, and once he finally disappears over the horizon you break down into an inconsolable mess.

You love Zuko with all of your heart, so it kills you to act as if he means nothing to you. You’re trying to do what Ozai has demanded of you, but it’s agonizing and difficult. You’re too much of a coward to face him and break it off for good, so you’ve resorted to avidly avoiding the Prince at all costs. You hope that by pushing him away he’ll take it upon himself to end the relationship; it would be much less painful that way, but he’s too stubborn for his own good, and he’s persisted despite your best efforts.

The days seem to blend together as you lock yourself in your room while your mother continues to turn Zuko away. You haven’t done any of your chores or worked in days, but Ozai has not faulted you for your incompletion of tasks. Breaking Zuko’s heart is your task, and so long as you keep your word he couldn’t care less what you did with yourself.

After another week has passed, suffocation finally catches up to you and you’re forced to leave your room in order to get some fresh air. You sneak out at nightfall when the palace is quiet and your mother is sleeping so that no one can detect your presence. You retreat to the well out in the back and stare contemplatively into the water below. Clutching the sun that hangs from the gold chain around your neck, you admire the moon’s reflection in the ripples and wish you could be anywhere else but here in the Fire Nation.

“I thought I’d find you here,” a voice utters quietly, causing you to jump in alarm at the intrusion. You turn to meet the solemn gaze of the Prince, and as your back hits the cool stones of the well you find that you are cornered. You can’t avoid him now, and it’s a fact both of you are aware of.

“Zuko, I… I was just leaving,” you stammer hurriedly as you try to push your way past him, but he catches you by the arm before you can get away.

“No, not until you talk to me!” He demands, his eyes full of desperation and despair. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, yet you keep avoiding me. Why? Was it something I did?”

“No, Zuko, you didn’t do anything,” you insist despite refusing to meet his gaze. You’re terrified that someone will see you both together and alert Ozai, and you wish he would just release you so you could go back to hiding away in your room.

“Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Slowly, you peek your head up to meet his exasperated face. It seems he’s not going to give up without a fight, so you’re going to have to resort to doing what you’ve been trying to avoid this entire time.

“I don’t love you.”

“W-What?” Zuko stammers in quiet surprise, his hold on your arm loosening slightly. He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing from you, and his mind is scrambling to process your words.

“I don’t love you. I want nothing to do with you,” you repeat firmly, your eyes hardening as you stare up at him and yank yourself free from his grasp.

“Y/n, you don’t mean that-“

“I do mean it! I feel nothing for you, Zuko. I never have. I just felt like I couldn’t say no to you because you’re the Prince, so I had no choice but to say yes to being your girlfriend.”

Hurt flashes across his features and you’re dying inside at having to be so cruel to him. The heart of your childhood best friend is in your hands and you crush it with every word despite how much it pains you. But it’s better for both of you this way, it must be. Ozai will never let you be happy together, but apart he still has a chance to capture the promised future ahead of him. You’re doing him a favor, and you hope one day he’ll be able to see it that way too.

“I don’t understand,” he murmurs weakly, tears beginning to well in his eyes. Then, with frustration clear in his tone, “This doesn’t make any sense!”

“Did you honestly think we could actually be together?” You retort in disbelief. “Azula always said you were a fool, but I didn’t think you were this naive. A servant and a Prince don’t belong together, and you’re the only one who can’t seem to get that!”

“Alright, fine,” Zuko mutters indignantly. His sadness has quickly morphed into anger, and you hate the way it makes you feel. “Can I just ask you one thing?”

You say nothing in response, and he takes your silence as a sign to continue.

“If you don’t love me, then why are you still wearing the necklace?”

Your eyes widen slightly as your hand immediately flies to your neck to clutch the pendant, and your heart slowly begins to sink to your stomach as you realize you’ve been caught in your lie. It’s your turn now to be at a loss for words, unsure what to say as you simply stare up at him with your mouth slight agape.

“You don’t mean what you’re saying,” Zuko says firmly as he moves closer to you. “Someone else is speaking for you, aren’t they?”

“I…”

“What’s going on, y/n?” He presses gently, carefully resting a hand upon your cheek. “Why are you acting this way?”

“I can’t tell you,” you argue weakly, your own eyes becoming full of tears as you allow yourself to melt into his touch. You’ve missed the feeling of his warmth and the comfort of his closeness, and despite your mind screaming at you to remove yourself from him your heart keeps you planted in place.

“That’s nonsense, of course you can. You’ve always been able to tell me anything, so why can’t you now?”

“Can’t you just believe me when I tell you it’s for your own good?” You plead emphatically despite the wavering of your voice.

“How can this possibly be for my own good?!” He retorts in exasperation. “I’ve been miserable without you. Life feels empty when you aren’t around, and I don’t know how to deal with the fact that the girl I’ve loved all my life can’t seem to stand me.”

“It’s not like that!” You cry defensively as the tears finally begin to fall.

“Then what is it?!” Zuko demands, and you can’t seem to take any more of this torture. The lies are killing you, and you can’t help but to finally crack under pressure.

“I’m not good enough for you!” You finally exclaim as you pull yourself away from his touch. You try to choke back your sobs but the ache in your chest makes the task difficult, and you can do nothing but let your words flow freely after keeping them bottled in for weeks. “I-I have nothing to offer you, nothing that makes me special, nothing ahead of me like you do. It’s an embarrassment to the Fire Lord for you to be with me, and it will be an embarrassment for you to have me as your Fire Lady.”

Stunned by your admission, it takes Zuko a moment to process your words. He steps towards you and you flinch, effectively breaking his heart in the process. It’s clear you’re frightened, but not of him. Your fear is geared toward someone else, and the culprit must be responsible for you now feeling this way.

“Who told you such nonsense?”

“Your father,” you admit quietly much to Zuko’s dismay. His eyes immediately harden and his chest is immediately tight with anger, but he does his best to keep his emotions at bay so as to not upset you further. “He spoke to me when we returned from Ember Island and told me we couldn’t be together. Ozai demanded I break your heart so that you can move on and find another girl more suited for this life than I could ever be. I didn’t want to, I still don’t want to, but I’m doing this so that you can have a better future. I’ll only hold you back, Zuko.”

After taking a moment to digest your words, Zuko carefully steps towards you again. You don’t reject his advances this time, so he allows himself the opportunity to carefully wipe away the steady tears that fall down your cool cheeks. Despite how much of a mess you assume you must look like, the Prince still sees you as the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I don’t care what my father says,” he assures you gently as he takes your hands in his own. “You’re not an embarrassment, and there’s no other girl that could ever compare to you. I love you, y/n, and I’m not going to let anyone ever get in the way of that.”

“You mean that?” You ask with a quiet sniffle, holding his hands tight as if he’ll leave if you let go.

“Every word. Let my father and anyone else who disapproves of our relationship say what they want to say. I want to be with you, and I hope you still want to be with me too.”

His looks to you with pleading eyes that seek your reassurance, and for a moment you hesitate. Being with Zuko is all you’ve ever wanted, and now he stands here before you professing his loyalty and his love to you. The boy from your childhood had stolen your heart, and you’d be lying if you said you wanted it back.

You know being with him won’t be easy, especially not with his father’s adamant disapproval of your relationship, but you trust Zuko, and so you have to trust that everything will turn out okay. You meet his desperate gaze and gift him a faint smile, and despite knowing you’ll regret this, you wordlessly lean in to meet his lips in a kiss.

You can worry about Ozai’s wrath later. But for now, you allow yourself to melt into his embrace by the moonlit well as you share your first kiss in weeks. It feels right being in his arms once more after spending so much time apart, and you hope you’ll never have to be without his touch ever again.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy @alexatiu

[4ln-stay8]

Rainy hearts

>summary: Lando was late for a game session with his friends due to picking you up

>author’s notes: I hope this isn’t as bad as I think it is

>warnings: idk some assumptions, some ignoring, some fluff at the end

Lando had promised Max that he'd join their gaming session and stream with their friends that evening. They had all been looking forward to it, but he found himself running late because you, his secret girlfriend, had called him in a rush. You needed a ride from your work to your university for your evening classes.

"Hi guys! Sorry I'm late" said the brown curly haired man

Lando finally joined the stream, but Max couldn't help but ask, "Lando, where were you? We had to start without you."

Lando sighed, frustration evident in his voice. "Sorry, Max. Sunshine needed a ride to her university, and she was in a hurry. She acts like such a spoiled brat sometimes, you know? She thinks I'm her personal chauffeur and that I'll be wherever she wants whenever she wants like I don't actually have anything else to do. She has a car and a driving license yet she still bothers me."

'Sunshine' was the code name they gave you for whenever they wanted to talk about you without people snooping in their business, and it worked.

Everyone knew about 'Sunshine' but no one knew the mystery identity of 'Sunshine'. Everyone knew she was Lando's girlfriend but no one knew anything about her. No one knew your name, your age, anything, and both you and Lando loved that!

Unknown to Lando, you've been discreetly watching the stream from your class, hurt by his comment. Did he really think that you were a spoiled brat? Does he really think that you see him as your personal driver?

You didn't wanted to be seen like that. That wasn't you! You never called him to pick you up just because you didn't want to take the bus or walk to university. You only asked him to pick you up when you were in a hurry and you were running late, and that wasn't often.

You have a driving license but due to the very busy neighbourhood your work was situated in you never took your car. To find a parking space there was nearly impossible and you would have to wait a while to actually find a spot which would result in you being late for work.

When your classes ended, you decided not to call Lando for a ride as you had agreed upon. He insisted that you would call him when you were done for the day so he could pick you up. After a while you agreed to call him, but now you weren't gonna do that. Instead, you walked home, and as luck would have it, the rain started pouring down.

Back at yours and Lando's place, thunder echoed as he anxiously checked the time. Realizing that your class had ended, he started to worry. It's been nearly 40 minutes since the class ended and there was no sign from you. He checked his phone at least 5 times but there was nothing there from you.

He said goodbye to the boys as he decided to leave the stream and go outside the gaming room and call you to see where you were. As he did that he heard the front door closing. Walking towards the entrance, he was met by his drenched girlfriend.

"Why didn't you call me, Y/N? I was worried sick!" Lando exclaimed, his worry turning into relief at seeing you safe.

You, avoiding eye contact, replied, "I didn't want to bother you or act like a spoiled brat who treats you like her personal driver,"

You looked at him, your eyes filled with a mix of hurt and determination, before turning away and leaving him standing in the hallway, his heart heavy with regret.

You walked into your shared bedroom, walking to the closet to find some dry clothes as you were wet and cold. Lando followed you like a lost puppy trying to find some words.

Lando sighed, realizing the unintended consequence of his words. "Y/N, it's not like that. I do want to help."

With a bitter tone and without even looking at him you told him "I appreciate it but I don't want to make you late for gaming with the boys" you said sarcastically and walked in the bathroom to take a hot shower.

He went to the kitchen to make you some tea so you could warm up even more, and something to eat, hoping that this would also make you a little less mad at him.

Around 20 minutes later, you walked out of the shower, dressed in some of Lando's clothes. You were mad at him but you won't deny that his clothes were more comfortable and warmer than yours.

You sat ok the bed scrolling on your phone while you snuggled in the blanket trying to get more warm. On the other room Lando was warming the tea, making a plate of food for you to eat.

He put them on a tray, picked it up and walked to your shared bedroom. He knocked on the door and opened it slowly.

“I brought you something to eat and some tea to warm up a little more” he whispered

You rolled your eyes at him trying not to give in and forgive him so quickly. “Thanks” you whispered as well, standing up a little and taking the tray from his hands.

“Look baby, I’m really sorry for what I said. I swear I didn’t mean it!” He whispered, his eyes pleading for forgiveness

“Am I really a bother to you? If I am I won’t ask you to pick me up again. Be honest!” you whispered avoiding his eyes, scared of his answer

“Of course you are not a bother to me, my love! I would come pick you up from the other side of the world if I had to! I swear baby I didn’t mean it! I was just annoyed because the traffic was bad when I got back! I am really sorry! Please forgive me!” He said, regret present in his voice

“I forgive you, but please don’t do say that again” you said, hurt still lingering in your voice

Even though you didn’t wanted to give in too easily, the tone in his voice made you break. You could feel how sorry he was for what he said, and after all he was your boyfriend and you loved him, so you did gave in.

“I swear I will never say anything like this again! What can I do to make it up to you?” the british man said desperately

“Just come and cuddle me, I’m still cold from the rain” you said putting the tray away and opening your arms

“Gladly!” He whispered and jumped on his side of the bed to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

[steddiealltheway]

Happy Halloween everyone!! Here is some type of no upside down AU fic :)

Eddie drums his hands on the cafeteria table and looks around at his friends. "Alright gentlemen, what are we doing for Halloween?"

He instantly gets a sense that something is off when Jeff and Gareth exchange a guilty look. Eddie leans forward and props his chin up on his hand. "Want to share with the class?"

Gareth sighs and looks at the table for a moment before bursting out, "Well, my sister and Jeff's brother really wanted to go out trick-or-treating this year, and you know how they've gotten close. And the deal was that either Jeff and I would stay at our houses manning the candy bowl, or we would go out with the kids."

Eddie huffs out, "And let me guess, you chose free candy, torturous walking, and a cutesy group costume."

Jeff smiles guiltily. "You're looking at Shaggy and Scooby-Doo."

"Adorable," Eddie says with a big fake smile before turning to Frank. "You're not leaving me high and dry though, isn't that right, Frank?"

Only, Frank seems to be just as guilty-looking as the others.

"Frank... Don't do this to me, man," Eddie pleads.

Frank sighs, "I told my mom I would do a Halloween horror movie night with her. Sorry, Eddie."

Eddie looks between all his friends, wondering if they're pulling a prank on him and fulfilling the trick part of trick-or-treat. But he slowly realizes that they're not. "Shit," he whispers, "I guess I needed to book you guys early," Eddie jokes, trying not to feel too let down.

Jeff pats his hand and says, "Hey, you can come with us. We need a bad guy in a mask."

Eddie scrunches up his nose. "Willingly walking miles and dealing with kids on an endless sugar high? No thanks. But... I appreciate the thought." He sits back and picks up a few of his pretzels before dropping them back in the bag. What is he going to do? He has always loved Halloween, his friends know this. But what's the point in celebrating if he's alone?

"You could go to Harrington's infamous ball," Frank suggests. Gareth and Jeff immediately start laughing loudly. Eddie just glares at Frank, but he doesn't seem to be joking as he defends himself, "I'm not kidding! Come on, free beer and witnessing a bunch of shit drama."

Eddie snorts. "Yeah, because I would be so welcomed there."

"It's not like people will really notice. I hear his place is jam-packed with random people every year. Plus, you could wear your bat masquerade mask," Jeff interjects.

Eddie sighs and puts his head in his hands. "You're not seriously trying to convince me to go, right?"

"I mean... we're not not trying to convince you," Gareth supplies unhelpfully. There's an oof sound that Eddie's sure is the result of Jeff elbowing him in the side. "But seriously, you can wear the mask so no one will recognize you and your slutty vampire outfit-"

"It's not slutty."

"It has a tight leather lace-up vest, it's a little slutty," Jeff stage whispers to Eddie.

Eddie groans and dramatically thuds his head down on the table before quickly looking up. "Let me get this right. You want me to go to Steve Harrington's Halloween party in a mask as a Cinderella-type vampire because you guys are ditching me?"

"Precisely. Except the part where we ditched you because we clearly invited you-"

"Okay! Okay!" Eddie cuts Jeff off waving his hands.

"And hey, we all know that you would love to get some one-on-one time with Harrington, and what's a better time to do this than undercover?" Jeff asks.

Eddie dramatically shushes him and whispers, "I told you guys that secret while entirely way too high, you cannot hold that information against me right now."

"He's right," Frank says, "You can finally find out if Harrington truly isn't an asshole."

"And see if he has the hots for you while you're wearing your-"

"I swear, Gareth, if you call the costume slutty again..."

"Okay, but are you wearing it with your leather pants?" Jeff asks, eyebrows raised.

Eddie sighs and looks down at his lunchbox. "Maybe," he begrudgingly admits.

"Slutty!" Frank loudly says, and Gareth and Jeff immediately burst out laughing.

Eddie covers his face in his hands before joining in on their laughter. "Maybe it's a little slutty," he admits.

As the boys celebrate their win, Eddie feels someone staring over at him. He glances toward Harrington's table where he's sitting next to his ex and her new boyfriend and finds him staring directly at him. Eddie's heart beats a little harder when Steve slightly smiles at him before redirecting his attention to Jonathan.

"Jesus Christ, he looked at me again," Eddie mutters.

"Dude, you always say this, but we never see him do it," Frank groans.

"Yeah, because you don't obsessively check out his table," Gareth says with a laugh before he suddenly frowns and turns to Eddie. "No offense."

"None taken," Eddie replies as he chews on his bottom lip, thinking deeply. If he goes to the party, he can finally confront his crush on the guy he's never truly interacted with unless you count all the times they catch each other's eye then... they would be interacting somewhat often.

He can also finally figure out if it's all in his head or not.

"Okay. I'm going to the Harrington party," Eddie announces.

"Seriously?" Jeff asks incredulously.

"You guys are just so convincing," Eddie says with his hands over his heart.

"Bullshit," Frank says, "You're just going for a chance to maybe say two words to him."

Eddie crosses his arms and asks, "And what would those two words be?"

"'Slutty vampire' in response to 'What are you dressed as?'" Jeff quickly jokes, earning a shriek of laughter from Gareth and Frank.

Eddie thanks whatever entity is responsible for making the bell ring to announce lunch is over. "I need new friends," Eddie lies as he gathers his stuff up.

As Gareth and Frank rush off, Jeff lays a hand on Eddie's arm and says, "Hey, we can do a Halloween slasher night if you want to this weekend. Also, don't hesitate to call if you need help getting ready or need a second pair of eyes to make sure Harrington will approve."

Eddie gives him a genuine small smile and squeezes his shoulder, "Thanks, man."

"Don't mention it," Jeff says as he walks off with a bright smile.

As Eddie watches him walk away, he catches Harrington staring at him out of the corner of his eye, but as soon as he glances over, he looks away looking... angry? Eddie just sighs and shakes his head. He needs to stop thinking that Harrington in any way has thoughts dedicated to him.

Maybe this party will be good for Eddie.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie stares at his reflection in the mirror and twists and turns. Maybe the leather is slutty, but he thinks the plain black cape does well to soften the look a bit. He stares at his hair and all the glossy individually finger-curled strands making his hair look a little more tame than usual. But hell, his arms and fingers ache. He just hopes it's all worth it.

He puts on the bat mask and frowns before taking it off and digging around for his eyeliner pencil he knows he has somewhere in the bathroom. He quickly finds it in a random basket and applies it before smudging it a bit. He puts the mask back on and smiles. He likes the way it has an elegant almost lace-looking quality to the plastic that offsets the leather of his costume.

He wishes he could call Jeff for a final look, but he doesn't want to take any precious time away from him and his brother although they're probably done trick-or-treating by now. Plus, he knows that Jeff would tell him that he looks great and not to overthink it. So, that's exactly what he's going to do.

He grabs the bright orange flyer he found on the floor at school for the Harrington Halloween House Party and cringes at the alliteration. He's pretty sure it's been the same thing for the past three years though, so it's not like Harrington has an option of changing it.

Gosh, he needs to stop stalling and finally leave for the party. He glances at his watch and sees that it's almost eleven, so people should be finally arriving an hour fashionably late. Better to be a part of that crowd to not draw much attention.

He drives over quickly, parking a little down the road when he starts seeing other cars, not wanting to get stuck if he wants to leave early. He takes a deep breath before glancing in the mirror again. He's not recognizable... right? Right.

He gets out of his van and quickly starts walking toward the intimidatingly large house. He's glad to find a group of people rushing inside and even more people outside on the front lawn who aren't sparing him a second glance. Usually, he would come to one of these things with his infamous lunchbox and upsell his stash, but he knew it would give him away tonight. Plus, it's nice to not be on edge the whole time, wondering who is approaching him for drugs and who is approaching him with a slur.

As he makes his way inside, he grimaces at the loud pop music people are wildly dancing to and the smell of alcohol that permeates the house. It's only a few minutes before someone is shoving a cup of mysteriously bright red liquid in Eddie's hand. He takes a tentative sip and shrugs. It's not horrible especially since Eddie likes terribly sweet things, but he definitely isn't going to waste time getting a second cup.

He's on a mission. And his mission is to find Steve and hope that he's not somewhere with his tongue down some random girl's throat. Eddie tries to shove away the thoughts telling him that he shouldn't expect Steve Harrington to not be doing exactly that at his party. Plus, why would he spare time to talk to Eddie of all people?

Eddie takes another sip of his drink and makes his way through the crowd, not finding a single glimpse of that Harrington mane that's usually easy to spot. He goes outside the backdoor and frowns at all the people making out in the pool before heading back inside.

He glances around a few more times before settling back in a corner, downing the rest of his drink before giving up on his search and settling on people watching. But god it’s boring.

These people are boring.

It’s just the same situation over and over again. A couple getting uncomfortably handsy with each other, or a guy and girl eyeing each other up across the room as their friends hype them up in a way that’s either grotesque or filled with squeals.

And the room is hot. So unbearably hot that his leather pants are starting to cling to Eddie in an uncomfortable way that makes him want to rip them off.

Instead, he settles on climbing the stairs and going to find whatever bathroom he can to splash some cold water in his face and hopefully get a moment to himself.

He looks at all the closed doors, pressing his ear against them before quickly backing away whenever he hears something gross. But then his ear settles on one door and there’s the distinct sound of nothing on the other side that puts him at ease.

He twists the knob and walks into the room, freezing when he realizes that, one, this is not a bathroom, and, two, someone with Steve Harrington's distinctive hair swoop is sitting in the room.

The man turns and makes eye contact with Eddie who instantly dies a little inside as he realizes it is Steve. "Sorry. I didn't mean to barge in."

Steve gives him a small smile and says, "I don't mind."

Eddie doesn't know what to do other than hover in the doorway of the dark room. Steve continues to stare at him and eventually asks, "Want to join me?"

Yes. Hell yes, he does. But also, Eddie has the distinct feeling that this either has to be a dream or a prank. But he still nods.

"Do you mind locking the door behind you? I just... don't want anyone trying to use this room as a place to hook up or something."

Now this definitely sets off a few alarms in Eddie's head, but there's a weird air of sadness surrounding Steve that makes it seem... genuine. So Eddie closes the door and locks it behind him, slowly making his way over to Steve. As he gets closer, some of the light trailing in through his blinds catches on the glittering crown that he's holding in his hands.

Eddie gestures toward it. "King Steve?"

Steve smiles sadly and looks down at the crown. "Something like that."

Eddie carefully sits next to Steve, trying to keep a respectable distance between them on the bed. His eyes trace over Steve's costume, a clearly expensive, gorgeous prince or king costume. "So, what are you supposed to be?"

"Prince Charming," Steve answers easily. He glances over at Eddie and shrugs. "Nancy thought that it would be funny because of my 'Harrington charm' mixed with King Steve, but I don't know. I kind of hate that nickname." He shakes his head and changes the subject. "What are you supposed to be?"

"Slutty vampire," Eddie says almost automatically, startling a laugh out of Steve as Eddie curses under his breath and puts his hands over his face. As his fingers press into the mask on his face, he's startled by the realization that Steve doesn't know who he is. "Sorry, my friends kept saying that, and I insisted it wasn't what I was going for. But they won that argument in the end I guess." God, he can't believe he actually said that.

"You look maybe a little slutty but in a good way," Steve rushes to say the last part. He runs a hand through his hair, getting a bit flustered. "I mean you look nice."

"So do you," Eddie admits honestly.

Steve holds his hand out to him. "Steve."

Eddie takes his hand and says, "Cinderella."

Steve laughs again. "Really?"

"I got the mask and everything," Eddie explains, not yet wanting to ruin things when Steve finds out who he really is.

"Cinderella then," Steve says with a smile that makes Eddie feel a little weak in the knees. Thank god he's sitting down.

"So, what are you doing in here in the dark all by yourself, Prince Charming?"

"I'm not by myself, I'm with you," Steve easily deflects.

Eddie raises his eyebrows although he's pretty sure the mask partially covers them.

Steve looks down at the crown again and raises it up. "I just wanted to not be this for a little bit tonight. Plus, the music was giving me a headache - too many concussions." He pauses before turning to Eddie. "And what were you doing escaping from things?"

"Looking for some quiet," Eddie says and looks down at his unnaturally bare hands. He wishes he would've kept on his rings so he could fidget with them. "I was thinking about leaving, but I wanted to stay in case I found you."

Steve shifts a little on the bed, moving to face him. "And now that you've found me?"

Eddie glances up at him and considers it for a moment. "I hadn't really thought that far."

Steve runs a hand through his hair. "Well, I hope I'm not too disappointing."

"Not at all," Eddie insists, "Actually I thought you'd be-"

"An asshole?" Steve interjects quickly, his expression becoming oddly stoic.

Eddie shakes his head. "Preoccupied with someone else. Anyone other than me really."

Steve face softens and he leans in closer, eyes tracing over Eddie's face as if trying to figure out what's under the mask covering most of the upper half of his face. "You know you can tell me your real name, right?"

Eddie swallows and shakes his head. "Maybe I'll just leave a clue behind or something. Not my shoe though. I always hated that plot line."

Steve smiles brightly. "If it fit perfectly then why did it fall off?"

"Exactly!" Eddie says clapping his hands together excitedly. "Plus, with all that dancing, I just know that shoe did not smell good."

Steve throws his head back and laughs, and Eddie just watches him, filled with pride at being able to pull that reaction out of him. As his laughter dies down, Steve glances back down at the crown.

"You should put it on," Eddie blurts out. Steve looks up at him with his eyebrows raised. "I want to see the whole costume."

Steve reluctantly places the crown on his head and glances toward Eddie. It's strange, how it fits him so perfectly at first glance, but he can see how it personally affects Steve, as if it adds a weight to his entire demeanor.

"You look good, but I think I prefer you without," Eddie admits.

Steve quickly takes it off his head and places it behind him. "Yeah, that's because it messes up my best feature."

"That's strange, I didn't see it mess with your eyes, or your smile, or your nose, or your-"

Eddie's suddenly cut off when Steve leans in and kisses him. He just as quickly pulls away and says, "Sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've asked before I just-"

"Steve," Eddie says, laying a hand over Steve's.

Steve looks up at him nervously.

"Please do that again," Eddie says.

Steve sighs in relief and instantly closes the distance between them again, but Eddie is able to prepare for it, properly cupping his face and kissing him back. He feels like he's in a dream again as Steve deepens the kiss and runs his hands through the curls Eddie took so long to perfect. But he doesn't care at all.

There's a sudden loud ringing of a grandfather clock that pierces through the house causing the two of them to jump apart. "Jesus, I forgot that I told them they could play that creepy recording at midnight," Steve says and freezes. "Wait, it's midnight."

"And?"

"You're Cinderella."

Eddie tries to swallow down the pain of once again realizing that to Steve, he's just some random guy that he doesn't know. But Eddie smiles and says, "Well, lucky for you, the magic doesn't run out until one or two in the morning."

Steve smiles back and says, "Lucky me." But instead of kissing Eddie, he surprises him by asking, "Tell me something about yourself."

Eddie shrugs, trying to think of something that won't give him away. "I play the guitar."

"Oh, is that why you wear the..." Steve trails off, eyes flickering down to his neck before looking away. "Forget I said that. I thought I saw something."

Eddie's brows furrow, but he doesn't press him on it. "What about you? Tell me something most people don't know."

Steve thinks for a moment before smiling. "I almost didn't show up to this tonight. I was going to go trick-or-treating with some of the kids I sort of babysit. But Dustin told me they didn't need a babysitter tonight, so I ended up here."

The story twists at Eddie's heart a bit. Even with his disillusioned crush on Steve, he would've never guessed there was a group of kids he cared for so much.

Eddie reaches out and intertwines his fingers with Steve's. "I'm sure they miss you."

"I don't know. They were going in custom-made costumes for these characters they play as in D and D or something. They seemed really excited about it, so they've probably forgotten about me by now."

Eddie swallows down the entire spiel he wants to make about Hellfire Club and asking who the kids are so he might be able to recruit them and instead says, "Well, you're pretty unforgettable."

Steve smiles and opens his mouth to respond when there's a sudden loud knock on the door. Steve frowns and loudly says, "Occupied!"

A voice on the other side of the door loudly says, "I think your neighbors down the way ratted us out! Someone said the police are on their way."

"Shit," Steve mutters and runs his hands over his face. "I'll be right there! Just get rid of all the alcohol you can find and turn off the music. Party is over." He stands up and turns to Eddie offering his hand which Eddie takes.

They both stand up and Eddie realizes he's never stood directly next to him and is surprised that they seem to be the same height. God, it's so nice to be at eye level with him.

"I guess this is goodbye, Cinderella," Steve says sadly and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "Will you leave me with at least a kiss?"

"You're too charming to say no to," Eddie jokes before he leans in and kisses Steve again, lingering in the kiss for as long as he can before they both pull away as there's another loud knock on the door.

Steve squeezes Eddie's shoulder one last time and says, "I promise to find you." He rushes out the door quickly after and Eddie is left standing in Steve's room alone. He takes a deep breath before he leaves slowly, distancing the time they were seen with each other.

Luckily, things are in a bit of a frenzy as he leaves so he doubts anyone noticed him slipping out of the same room as Steve. But on his drive home, Eddie realizes he gave Steve absolutely nothing to identify him with. He curses and debates turning back until he sees Hopper's police car pass him.

Steve's never going to find him.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The entire weekend, Eddie's friends have the pleasure of hearing him share the story over and over again while simultaneously complaining about not leaving something equivalent to a shoe behind.

"Well, it sounds like you at least left him with a lot of your saliva," Gareth says one time, and Eddie has to get Jeff to hold him back.

Monday morning is the worst when he realizes he has to see Steve and pretend like nothing happened. Because there's no way he's going to tell Steve that he's Cinderella and expect him to not punch him in the face.

Okay, Steve doesn't seem the type to do that, but there's no way he would be excited to hear that Eddie's the guy he swapped spit with - god, he really needs to get Gareth's words out of his head. But Eddie thinks he'll be able to deal with Steve never knowing than Steve rejecting him.

He sees Steve here and there in the hall but is luckily able to divert his path so Steve never directly sees him. Unfortunately, Eddie knows Steve will be at the same table as always at lunch which is right in his line of sight.

When he sits down, his friends are already nudging him and cracking jokes about Prince Charming and whatnot that pisses Eddie off. It makes things worse when he sees Steve sitting with his back to him, which he's never done before. At one point, Eddie just snaps, gets up, and leaves the cafeteria saying he needs a minute. He rushes off to his locker, digging around for his spare pack of cigarettes when he hears a pair of footsteps to his left.

He sighs and closes the locker door, expecting to see a teacher who has followed him, expecting him to do something suspicious. Instead, he gets the shock of his life when he sees Steve walking right up to him.

As Steve approaches, Eddie dumbly says, "Are you looking to buy something?"

Steve runs a hand through his hair before shaking his head. "No, I'm not, Cinderella."

Eddie's eyes widen. There's no way...

"Did you really think I didn't know who you were?" Steve asks, and Eddie can't get a read on him, but he seems... upset.

"I'm sorry?"

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair again. “Eddie, I know it was you, and I want to know why you've been avoiding me all day. Like did it really mean nothing to you? Is that why you didn't tell me your name?"

Eddie's head spins a little too fast at the revelation, so he clarifies, "Wait, you knew it was me the whole time?"

"Yes. I thought you were just really pretending to be in character or something, but today you were icing me out. And I know we haven't really talked before Friday night, but I thought I was clear about wanting to change that."

"Then why did you face with your back toward me in the cafeteria?" Eddie blurts out without thinking.

"There was something on my chair," Steve answers easily.

"Oh." Okay, maybe Eddie is an idiot but, "Wait, you really knew who I was and still, "he lowers his voice and leans in, "...kissed me?"

A look of realization crosses over Steve's face before he smiles. "Eddie, I've been staring at you for weeks now, and I just hadn't gotten the courage to talk to you yet. You're pretty intimidating."

"Me? I'm intimidating? You're literally called 'King Steve.'" Steve frowns at the title, but Eddie continues, "I never thought I had a shot with you without the mask on - or even with the mask on. I was avoiding you today because I didn't want you to realize it was me and reject me."

"I thought you called yourself Cinderella because I was dressed as Prince Charming," Steve laughs.

"I didn't even realize that was Cinderella's prince!" Eddie nearly shrieks, laughing loudly along with Steve. "We're a disaster," he says through his laughter.

Steve takes a deep breath, trying to kill his laughter a little to say, "I think we should start over a little and go on a date. This time without fake names and the police showing up."

"No promises about the second one," Eddie says with a big smile.

Steve smiles and looks at him as if waiting for something.

"What?" Eddie asks.

Steve laughs anxiously. "Is that a yes to the date?"

"Oh! Christ. Yes! Yes, it is. Sorry," Eddie sighs and runs a hand over his face, noting the way his hands don't catch on a mask this time. Steve Harrington is fine with him being Cinderella - more than fine with it really. He narrows his eyes at Steve. "And this isn't a trick?"

"I thought it would be more of a treat," Steve jokes.

Eddie rolls his eyes and simultaneously laughs at the horrible pun. "Did you know that you're really charming?"

Another laugh is startled out of Steve who quickly tries to hide it. He looks down at the ground and says, "I'm having a hard time thinking of a joke about a slutty vampire."

Eddie groans, "Don't remind me."

"I wouldn't mind if you reminded me," Steve flirts.

"Christ," Eddie says, feeling a blush quickly rise on his cheeks.

The bell for lunch rings again, and this time Eddie wants to curse the entity responsible for it.

"I'll slip you my number later so you can call me later, Cinderella" Steve announces, walking back to the cafeteria where he left his stuff.

"I'm charmed," Eddie replies with a wink that has Steve getting slightly flustered.

As he rounds the corner and gets out of sight, Eddie can't help but think about how Steve really kept his promise about finding him. He also can't wait to have proof that all his friends were wrong, except maybe he was a little bit of a slutty vampire... But it definitely paid off.

And it definitely was a very happy Halloween.

[strangersteddierthings]

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Prompt from @devious-kitten

Steve had a mild interest in DnD as a freshmen because of a cousin or something. The interest was killed by Eddie being mean since Steve is a jock. Post vecna Eddie finds dust covered DnD handbook Steve explains and Eddie faces a still hurt Steve as a results of his biases

((Half written fic, half rambling about how it would go down. Apologies for the formatting. Also I added more angst than the prompt called for hehe))

Steve has always loved sports. This is a well-known fact. He's played on some sort of sports team from the time he was old enough for his parents to be able to sign him up.

A lesser-known fact is that Steve loves fantasy. Or, at least, he used to. On the playground in elementary school, Steve could often be found playing knights and dragons, and it was anyone's guess if he would be a knight or a dragon on any particular day.

The summer between middle and high school, Steve spent with his grandparents from his mother's side, on the farm they'd retired on in Michigan. A month long stay that he'd shared with his cousins, Amber, Robert, and Christopher. Amber and Robert are twins, four years younger than Steve, and Christopher was two years older and infinitely cooler than anyone else Steve knew.

Christopher was on the varsity basketball team at his high school when he was just a sophomore, captain of the JV football team, president of the chess club, and in a games club.

Christopher was everything Steve wanted to be now that he was going to be in high school. Minus the chess club because

It was during that summer, Steve got to indulge in playing make believe for another summer with his younger cousins, without the judgement of people (his father and peers) who thought he was too old for such things. He also got to learn about make believe for older kids, because Christopher played a game called Dungeons and Dragons with his game club the last month of school before summer break and spent many evenings going over what had happened with Steve as a captive audience.

"I wish I'd brought the books," Christopher had whispered to him one night from the bed, peaking over to look down at Steve in his sleeping bag on the floor, "we could have played."

Steve wishes he'd brought the books, too.

At the end of July, Christopher, Amber, and Robert's parents show up to pick them up, five days before Steve's scheduled flight to Indianapolis. It's a sad goodbye because one summer a year isn't enough with his cousins but they live in Washington. Steve's always jealous their parents drive all the way to pick them up, but a little proud he gets to brag about how he's flown alone since he was seven. No one else in his class can brag about that.

His mom picks him up in Indianapolis and they go back to school shopping while there.

A week later, Steve receives a package from Christopher. Inside Steve finds Advanced Dungeons and Dragons books, three of them, and even though Christopher said nothing about advanced, he's sure he can manage. On the inside cover of the players handbook, Christopher has written:

Hey Steve, I think you'd rock playing a dwarf paladin. Let's play next summer? Christopher 1981

He spends the last three weeks of summer vacation reading the player handbook cover to cover and making a character. It's slow going, because letters don't stay where they're supposed to be on the page (that's a problem he's had his whole life, so he's not surprised but he is determined), and he's never been good at math, so getting the stats down on paper isn't easy. He can't decide what he wants to play, so he makes two characters; an elf magic-user and, of course, a dwarf paladin.

(He's a little disappointed you can't be a dragon.)

Steve's never been one to dread the first day of school, but he's never actually looked forward to it, either. It's just been another day.

Until today.

Today is his first day as a high schooler. And the only people who go to the first day are Freshman, except the upper classman that have volunteered to man the booths for school activities for the last hour of the day. It's supposed to help the Freshman get the lay of the land without being overwhelming and Steve's excited for it. He needs to see if Hawkins High has a games club like Christopher's school does.

Here Steve is, that last hour of school. He's already been to the basketball booth, promising to sign up as soon as the season started, and the swim booth because he's got a pool at his house and has been swimming for as long as he can remember and knows he enjoys it. He also stops by the football booth even though he's never played, or cared much, for it. (Maybe he's trying to emulate Christopher, sue him.). So, the final thing is to see if Hawkins High offers a chess club and a game club.

Steve is delighted to see that, though there is no games club, there is a Dungeons and Dragons club! That delight wavers because of the kid manning the booth. His hair is curly and falls just below his ears, with big brown eyes. Steve hates to think it, but he'd be cute if he didn't look like he wanted to stab Steve.

"Yeah, no, keep walking," says the boy, pulling the flier with meeting information on it out from under Steve's hand, where he'd been attempting to read it.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed in confusion. "I was reading that."

"And I said no. Jocks don't play Dungeons and Dragons."

"I could," Steve says, offended. He squints at the name tag sticker slapped diagonally across the way too big jean vest this guy's wearing. E-d-d-i-e. Eddie.

"Have you ever played?"

"Well... no, but-"

"No buts. Mitch let a jock join last year and that was a nightmare. He could barely read the rule book. And with how you were squinting down at the flier, and then my name tag, you're not going to be much better."

Jokes on Eddie, Steve's already read the rule book. Even if it was slowly. "I can read just fine."

"Can you math, then? What's eight plus seven?"

"What?"

"Simple addition. Eight plus seven. What is it?"

Steve knows simple addition. This is fine. It doesn't matter than he's been put on the spot, and that math is hard for the same reason as reading. He can do this. His hand twitches with wanting to pull it up and use it to keep track. He's faster at math when he can do that, but this jerk is mean mugging him and he just knows if he moves his hand, this guy will mock him the rest of the school year.

Eight plus seven. Ok. Make it easier, get to ten. It takes adding two to the eight to get ten. Ok. Take that two away from the seven now. That makes... five! Ok. Ten plus five is-

"Dude, it's fifteen," Eddie snaps.

"I knew that!"

Scoff. "Right. How about seventeen plus six."

Steve can feel his face turning red with embarrassment but he's not going to let this jackass be right. Round up. It takes three to get seventeen to twenty, so take three away from the six-

"23. Point proven. Go. Away. Go play your jock games and leave me- us alone."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, or maybe plead, that he can do this, and that, more importantly, he wants to do this, but laughter cuts through the air and for the first time, Steve notices the audience that has gathered. Three people are laughing at him, and his inability to do mental math, and it makes Steve snap his jaw shut and swallow.

"Mental math isn't that hard, Steve," one of them, Brant, says, as he elbows the guy next to him.

"Thank you!" Eddie says, "that's what I'm saying."

"Whatever, man, like I'd want to play make believe at this age anyway," Steve mutters and rushes away.

If, two weeks later, Steve watches Kyle trip who he now knows is Eddie 'The Freak' Munson in the bathroom, and drag him into a stall for a swirly, well, no he didn't. He briefly thinks of saying something to stop Kyle, but shoves the words down and instead turns on heel and leaves that bathroom just as the sound of flushing and Eddie yelling start. The thick bathroom door does a good job of muffling the noise and if Steve feels any guilt about that, he shoves that down, too.

Besides, Kyle's the captain of the basketball team and if Steve wants a chance to be on that team, he can't stay anything. It's a well-known fact that Steve likes sports, after all. He's going to stick to that. Screw Eddie Munson and his Dungeons and Dragons club.

Steve will get to play Dungeons and Dragons with Christopher next summer.

Except, halfway through the school year, Steve and his parents quickly board a plane bound for Washington. Turns out being as perfect as Christopher was is hard. Overwhelming.

They arrive the day before the funeral, and fly out right after it. Steve barely has time to mourn before they're shuffling him back to school that Monday.

Christopher died, and with him, so does Steve's desire to be just like him. He quits the football team. He keeps basketball because he does like it, even without Christopher's influence. He can't bring himself to get rid of the Dungeons and Dragons books, but he can't look at them, either. They end up in the downstairs hall closet, forgotten on the shelf.

So, years later, after rising to the top of the food chain (no one was ever going to embarrass him like Eddie Munson had again) and then falling to the bottom (who cares about high school popularity when interdimensional monsters exist) and of course, the years of fighting against said interdimensional monsters before ending it all in spring of '86, Steve finds himself, unwillingly, agreeing to host Hellfire since the school banned the club following the events of spring break.

Damn Dustin Henderson. Steve usually has the backbone to say no but Dustin had to play up 'getting a chance to finally just be kids' and fuck, how was Steve going to say no to that? Despite how quickly his own desire to be a freshman playing Dungeons and Dragon had been squashed, he can't be the one to ruin this for them.

"Thanks for hosting, man," Eddie says when Steve lets him in. He's an hour early but had asked if that was okay. Apparently the dungeon master has a lot of prep to do? Not that Steve would know.

"Sure," Steve says, dismissively, because while Eddie and he went through hell together, and Steve carried his sorry ass out of the Upside Down, Steve can't quite let his guard down around him.

It's funny. In the Upside Down, Eddie had made a point to tell him he's changed, is a 'good dude' now. So, what's funny is how much Eddie is exactly the same person he was five years ago. He was an ass to Steve five years ago, and as far as Steve is concerned, was also an ass to Lucas for wanting to play basketball just this year.

He swears to God, if he hears one negative thing about Lucas tonight, he's punching Eddie unconscious, no matter what the rest of Hellfire will do or say about it.

Eddie's been in his dining room for maybe five minutes before he finds Steve in the living room. Steve's got a movie playing but he couldn't tell you which one. He's not really watching it.

"Do you got a table cloth for that big table? Jeff's got a set of metal dice and I'd feel like a real ass if we scratched it on accident."

Steve takes a deep breath before answering. He hates that Eddie is considerate like this, has been since spring break if Steve's being honest, but he doesn't want to see Eddie's good qualities. So, he waves in the direction of the closet. "Yeah. There should be some in the hall closet there. Help yourself."

"Thanks."

He twists on the couch to watch Eddie cross the room to the closet door, listens as the door creaks opens, hears the quiet, pleased noise Eddie lets out when his eyes land on the stack of table clothes. Steve continues to watch as Eddie just grabs the whole stack and yanks them off the top shelf.

Which means his watching as the stack of non-fabric objects, which must have been half atop the table clothes, also tumble out of the closet, bouncing off various parts of Eddie. It's a bunch of miscellaneous items. However, Steve realizes with horror, the book that bounces off Eddie's head is his copy of the Monster Manual. Eddie has stepped back in surprise (and possibly pain), so the Dungeon Master Guide and the Players Handbook bounce off his torso and leg before landing on the ground.

"Fuck," Eddie curses, before he stares down at what just assaulted him. Steve just stares at Eddie, watching as he slowly comes to comprehend what he's seeing. He watches as Eddie bends down and grabs the Player Handbook, the last thing to fall, from a top the pile. "What the-"

Steve stands, suddenly defensive, but doesn't actually say anything or move closer. He just watches as Eddie examines the book, flipping it from front to back in his hand like the title will change if he does that enough times.

Then, Eddie turns to him, bewildered. "Present for one of the kids? Thought they all had their own copies."

"No."

Eddie flips the book open. Reads the words written in there so many years ago. "Who's Christopher? Wait. 1981? You were playing D&D in 1981?"

"None of your business, and no," Steve says, now kicking into action, stomping up to Eddie and snatching the book from his hands.

Eddie hold his hands up in defense before his eyes turn mischievous. The same glint in them now that was there when Eddie'd leaned into this space in the RV and called him big boy. "Are you lying to me, Stevie? You've played before, haven't you?"

It makes Steve's blood boil. "No. I haven't played!"

"Alright. You could now, you know," Eddie says. And it's the way he says it, all nonchalant and like he's trying to be coy about it- it tips something over inside Steve. A bottle that held his humiliation and hurt from all those years ago.

"Oh, now I'm good enough for D&D? Now I can join? Aren't I too much of a jock for you!?"

"Whoa, what's with the hostility-"

"What's eight plus seven, Eddie!?" Steve snaps. His memory might be shit these days, with all the concussions, but the unfortunate part about Steve is that he always seems to remember the bad. And he remembers Freshman First Day like yesterday. "No? How about seventeen plus six? Come on, mental math isn't hard. Or don't you remember? I'm just a stupid jock too slow on the uptake, or no, what was it you said? It'll be a nightmare to play with me, 'cause I might be barely able to read the rules?"

He watches as Eddie's face morphs from confusion, to understanding and horror. "Holy shit, Steve. That was you- you wanted to join Hellfire-"

"Yeah, and you made it pretty fuckin' clear I didn't belong in it."

"I'm sorry man. I shouldn't have- if I'd known you, I never would have-"

"That's the problem, Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving the book in front of him. "You didn't know me. You looked at me and decided for me that I was going to be a jock and nothing else and then humiliated me in front of other people! You didn't even bother to try to know me. I spent three weeks reading this stupid book cover to cover because I knew I was shit at reading and I still wanted to try anyway."

He sees Eddie puffing up in anger. "Well, I wasn't exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even!"

"Yeah, because I was a dumb, hurt kid who decided that it was better to hurt than be hurt. As if you weren't exactly the same that day, lashing out at me first, at my reading ability, and mocking me for not being quick at math. Fuck you, Munson!" Steve walks away, not hearing anything Eddie shouts after him as he sprints up the stairs and shuts himself in his room.

Steve knows he was a dick in high school, and it's not Eddie's fault he was a dick. Steve made choices he's not proud of and no one forced those choice on him. But Eddie doesn't get to throw that back in his face. Not when Eddie made him feel humiliated and stupid on the first goddamn day of high school, long before Steve became mean himself.

[anantaru]

have you ever thought about how a conventional morning with your boyfriend childe would look like?

because, with your boyfriend showing clear signs of sullen grumpiness, aside from not wanting to get out of the warm limits of your shared bed, let alone push himself out there to get ready so he could head to work— it's undeniable that this can surely result into quite the predicament. not that it was all bad of course, because he had to admit to himself that he was absolutely wallowing the scent of your sweetly perfumed fragrance and the calm breeze of privacy inside your home.

in fact, you should also know that childe won't let you get out of bed either, past his strong grasp to be exact, and he made sure to steadily keep one arm draped around your waist at all times, while his head lazily rests against the back of your neck, humming deeply, brows slightly furrowing as he plants wet kisses on the flesh.

you clamber under his delicious traces in the slick wake of a tongue trailing up the fine skin on your neck as one palm lingers inside your shirt before cupping one breast, catching your right nipple and twisting just a little, easing the pinching pain with a gentler, softer circle of two digits around the sensitive point of flesh.

"ajax.." you say, aiming for a warning or at least a reminder that you would both end up late for work if this keeps on going, but your words appeared more like a joyful whine, and you shudder with a fresh wave of pleasure as you squeal at the light bites into your neck, serving as an attempt to repress a low moan right after your backside presses into his semi-hard erection.

"we'll be late now anyways.." childe tries finally, forcing the desperate tremble from his voice to rush into your ears as you squirm when he twists your nipple again before soothing the pain with a soft caress.

"i just want to feel you… want to watch you…" he mutters fatigued.

truthfully speaking, his carefully selected words didn't give you much of a choice and nor were you looking forward to step out of the warm sheets covering both of your bodies yourself, while the harbinger was now in control of your frames gradually connecting and fusing into each other— his lean, chiseled frame affixing you down onto his leaking cockhead as he slides through your wet insides, inch by inch, the swollen flesh meshing into his throbbing veins as he bottoms out instantly.

you let yourself be drawn back against his chiseled chest as he thrusts ever so slightly into your warm cunt, small and little shoves in and out, bumping and grinding through you messily and without a particular tempo in mind— because you see, it's all way easier when he can just use your tight pussy as he pleases, and you could sense the protective urge childe expelled whenever you were intimate with each other, how he held dearly onto your drowsy body, the comfort at every trace so soft and immediate to come from his warm weight that nearly suffocates you.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[loveinhawkins]

Every so often, Eddie will get the bus to Starcourt Mall (because what else is there to do?) and watch the world go by.

It’s not like he’s above a cliché or two—maybe he wants to indulge in being a lone figure within the crowd. Maybe he just feels like wallowing in the aimlessness of it all, damn it.

This is where Wayne would point out that Eddie is exactly the opposite of aimless, what with how he’d stormed into the trailer last month, failed test results in hand and snarled, “Next year. I’ll fuckin’ show ‘em.”

But there’s a long time between now and the new school year starting, the summer stretching out before him like taffy. He’d tried to start his reading list early again, but that’s never done him much good; this time he’d gotten through one chapter of Moby-fucking-Dick before despairing.

So. People-watching at the mall it is.

It’s surprisingly not all that terrible an activity, apart from discovering which teachers are suddenly very passionate about jazzercise—a sight Eddie could’ve blissfully lived the rest of his life without seeing.

There’s also the confirmation that the Starcourt commercial he saw was not a vivid hallucination—that Scoops Ahoy is, in fact, real.

And so are the ridiculous sailor outfits.

Well, I’ll be damned, Eddie thinks.

Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington are an incredibly unlikely duo. It’s like the universe abandoned all sense, spun a wheel and paired them up just for the fun of it.

When he joins the line for ice-cream, Eddie initially thinks he’ll find the whole thing laughable: seeing people forced to work together when usually the laws of the universe (and Hawkins High) would keep them as far apart as possible.

But then he discovers that the ice-cream parlor is packed, one hell of a bottleneck forming right up at the counter, where folks are waiting for a seemingly never-ending amount of floats to be poured.

It takes a while for Eddie to near the front of the line; enough time passes that he honestly feels kind of bad for even taking up a spot, for adding to the workload that has Robin shouting herself hoarse with every, “Next please!”

He strongly considers just leaving, but he hesitates for a moment too long, and unintentionally meets eyes with…

“Hi,” Steve says, pleasantly enough, if a little distracted as he prods at the soda machine. He smiles apologetically. “Be with you in a sec.”

Eddie almost wants to tell him you know it’s me, right? He doesn’t.

It’s not that he expects Steve to be mean, exactly; it’s just that he’s getting more than familiar with the whole post graduation routine. It’s like there’s a secret page in folks’ yearbooks, instructing them to look at anyone still attached to high school with either indifference or embarrassment—or both.

Steve must not have got the memo.

“Next!”

Robin beckons Eddie forward with a sweeping arm gesture, looks somewhere behind him and sighs in relief, puffing out her cheeks.

“Oh, thank God. You stopped the tide.”

Eddie glances over his shoulder; sure enough, he’s the last person left to order.

“Don’t think I’ve got that power, Buckley.”

Robin raises an eyebrow. “Debatable.”

Eddie almost laughs. There was a rumour in his first attempt at senior year that he could curse people: it only came about because he ominously whispered some Pig Latin he’d once overheard Robin herself use during History, and Molly Pritchard crossed herself in horror.

“I’ll have a vanilla cup.”

“Ooh,” Robin says dryly, “adventurous.”

“Nothing wrong with a classic,” Eddie says.

Robin smirks as she rings him up. They don’t know each other that well, but there’s admittedly something nice in the distant familiarity they share; at the very least, she’s not gonna add to any potential awfulness when school starts again.

While Robin hands over his change, Steve is filling up a cup—Eddie would say he’s uncharacteristically quiet, except for the fact that he doesn’t actually know what truly is characteristic of Steve Harrington.

Plus he’s stuck on the fact that he only paid for one scoop, but the amount of ice-cream Steve manages to cram in is almost double that.

And he does this ridiculous little twirly thing with the scooper before he even reaches for the tray of vanilla.

Eddie tells himself he notices just because the move is so stupid; it’s definitely not because he’s noticing Steve’s hands in general. It’s just… eyes get drawn to movement. That’s all.

“Syrup?” Steve asks, nodding his head at the dispensers.

“Sure,” Eddie says. “Strawberry.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Oh, don’t do that, man. Get it with butterscotch.”

Robin’s eyes rise to the heavens, as if some longstanding argument has begun once again.

“And why should I do that, Harrington?” Eddie says.

“Because,” Steve says, like he’s patiently explaining that two plus two equals four, “butterscotch is better. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Robin parrots mockingly. She closes the register drawer and says, “I’m taking my break, Popeye. Try not to judge the customers too hard.”

Eddie’s pretty sure he hears Steve mutter under his breath as she leaves, “Seriously? You’re worse than me.”

His cup of ice-cream is under hostage, apparently. Steve still hasn’t pressed down on the damn syrup pump.

“This your usual sales technique?” Eddie says. “Browbeating the customers?”

“Only the lucky ones,” Steve returns mildly.

Eddie scoffs. “Fine. Gimme the damn butterscotch then.”

“Knew you’d come to your senses,” Steve says.

He hands the cup over without any more quips; just as he’s done with the syrup, a large family swoops in with multiple sundae orders.

Eddie eats the ice-cream while waiting for the bus back home. He grudgingly has to admit that the butterscotch isn’t bad.

But that’s not really what’s bugging him.

He has to know if it’s a fluke—if maybe, just maybe, Steve Harrington only deigned to talk to him because he was, like… delirious or something. Maybe the flood of demanding customers scrambled his brain.

Of course, when Eddie goes back to the mall, it’s purely to test his theory. Strictly observational—educational, even. Like… summer school. (Take that, O’Donnell.)

The bus drops them off a little bit before the mall actually opens, but they’re allowed inside anyway. Eddie inwardly cringes at the sight of grown adults tapping persistently on the windows of still closed stores. Jesus Christ, they’re worse than zombies.

Scoops Ahoy isn’t open yet either; Eddie’s soon witness to a very stressed looking Steve striding over to unlock the place.

He flits in and out of view for a while, taking mops round to the back, filling up the jars of toppings.

Eddie actually considers heading over to Waldenbooks to check if it’s open (it’s not like he’s coming here for one store in particular, obviously), but then he hears metal clacking against the tiles.

When he looks back at Scoops Ahoy, he spots a set of keys on the ground right at the entrance, Steve nowhere in sight.

Goddamn it. He’s gonna have to be a Good Samaritan. Ugh.

Eddie briefly looks up to the ceiling as if he can condemn the ways of the universe from here. Then he sighs, picks up the keys and steps into the store.

“Harrington, you dropped these—”

“Shit,” comes Steve’s voice from the back, followed by an almighty clatter.

Eddie hesitates before his curiosity inevitably wins out.

He goes behind the register, through the door and finds the aftermath of complete disaster: Steve standing in front of an entire vat of ice-cream that’s been dropped onto the floor. It’s splattered all up his legs, cookies and cream clinging to the hairs.

Holy shit, stop thinking about his leg hair, Eddie thinks.

Up until this point in time, he’d believed it was physically impossible to look anything other than comical in that stupid sailor outfit.

(Well. Almost.)

But right now Steve looks absolutely tragic. Like he’s a crew member on the Titanic levels of tragic, and he’s about to deliver the news that there’s simply no more lifeboats.

Steve meets Eddie’s gaze.

“That was limited edition,” he says pitifully.

They both look down at the floor.

“Well,” Eddie says. “It definitely is now. Still, uh, what’s the phrase? No use crying over spilled… ice-cream.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna cry over it,” Steve says. “I’m gonna scream.” For a moment he looks murderous. “Robin’s not coming in.”

“Is she sick?”

Steve snorts. “Sick my ass. No, she’s keeping The Hawk in business—gonna see a movie about an ice-cream parlor, something like that.”

“An ice-cream parlor,” Eddie echoes. “Um. Are you sure she didn’t just make it up?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s one of those foreign—never mind.”

He cuts himself off, lifts up one foot, as if he’s become aware of his predicament all over again.

“I was fine with her ditching, she can do whatever; it’s not like we have managers checking up on us. But I forgot a huge delivery was coming, and it’s Saturday so it’s gonna be crazy, so I’m not gonna have time to put all of it in the freezer or check the stock chart, so it’s all just gonna become fucking soup, Jesus, maybe I should just throw everything on the floor and—”

“I could help,” Eddie interrupts, because apparently a little alien has burrowed into his brain and now he just says things.

Steve stares at him. “Why would you do that?”

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” Eddie says. He wishes his brain-invading alien an immediate death. “Bad idea, just—”

“No, I mean why would you do that? Dude, it’s not like I can pay you or—”

“I don’t really have plans,” Eddie says—oh great, the alien hasn’t died! “Uh, you can pay me with, like, a name tag?” What? Stop talking. “Like a souvenir?” Stop! “Oh sorry,” Steve says, as if on automatic pilot. He pulls at his shirt. “We don’t have—our names are stitched on.”

I was kidding about the name tag. Actually, maybe you should just murder me instead.

By some miracle, Eddie’s expression must somehow still look fairly normal because Steve continues, deadly serious, “Munson. Are you sure?”

This is the time to back out—

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Look, man, it’s no big deal. I can clean this up and—”

A bell starts ringing from the front, being struck over and over again in the most obnoxious way possible.

Something in Steve’s eyes flickers, a shift from panic into planning mode, and Eddie has the sudden bizarre feeling that this is what the basketball team saw whenever a crisis timeout was called.

“You sure you’re okay if I leave you back here?” Steve asks, and the gravity with which he says it threatens to send Eddie into hysterics—Christ, you’d think they were in the goddamn trenches.

“Think I’ll survive,” Eddie says. “I’m basically cleaning up, and putting everything into the freezer?”

Steve nods. “And, um, a stock check too, if that’s okay? There’s a chart pinned up, you just gotta count the flavours and put, like, tally marks next to—”

“Oh my God, not tally marks,” Eddie drawls. “The horror.”

Steve huffs. “I was just—”

The bell rings even more insistently.

“Uh, think you’re needed on the front line,” Eddie says.

He nearly chokes on his own spit when Steve turns to just march right on out there.

“Harrington, wait! Your—your legs,” he says weakly.

Steve has the audacity to look puzzled. “What about them?”

They’re very long.

Eddie gestures silently to the ice-cream on the floor, then attempts a vague hovering motion in the direction of Steve’s legs.

Steve’s eyes go wide in realisation. His cheeks turn slightly red. “Oh! Yeah, um, thanks. Um. I’ll just…”

He disappears into the world’s tiniest restroom, comes back free of cookies and cream before heading out to the front.

Well, Eddie thinks to the mop he finds, this is definitely a situation.

It’s not the worst way he’s spent a few hours, apart from having to listen to a Sailor’s Hornpipe on loop through the speakers (he briefly wonders how Robin and Steve stay sane). He cleans up, gets the rest of the delivery into the freezer, even jots down some tally marks, wonder of wonders.

Steve will occasionally slide back the shutters and pop his head in, passing over a soda.

“Employee perks,” he says, then has to hurriedly retreat to keep serving.

Eddie keeps waiting for the stiltedness to set in, but it seems Steve’s far too busy for there to be any awkwardness.

At midday the shutter slides back again and Steve says, “Hey, can you do me one last thing, and I’ll never ask you for anything ever again, I swear.”

“Harrington, you’ve technically never asked me for anything. Gimme the mission.”

Turns out the mission is just to use some employee only coupons at Burger King so Steve can take his lunch.

Eddie returns to Scoops Ahoy with two burgers to find that Steve’s strategically placed a pile of chairs and wet floor signs at the threshold to deter people from entering.

There’s also a hand-drawn sign on top of one of the chairs: Out for Lunch. Underneath, there’s a horrendously bad drawing of a ship on choppy waves.

Eddie tries very hard to not find it endearing.

He gives Steve a burger, hops onto the table in the back and starts eating his own.

A quarter of the way through, he realises that he could leave now—he’s done everything Steve’s asked, and Steve’s already said he can manage the remaining shift on his own now that the delivery’s been put away.

Huh. Well, he’s already gone to all the effort of sitting here…

Steve’s quiet for most of his lunch. Eddie doesn’t mind; he enjoys his free food, comes up with a half-baked campaign idea before discarding it, counts every tile in the room…

Looks over.

Steve’s sat with one leg hunched up to his chest, a book resting on his knee—the cover’s folded over the back as he reads, the spine broken. Eddie doesn’t know why on earth it’s attractive, but it is; he feels like some mooning middle schooler, entranced by the way their stupid crush eats spaghetti or some bullshit like that.

But then again, there’s always been an easy grace to Steve Harrington.

A beeping noise; Steve checks his wristwatch with a sigh.

“Ugh.”

He leaves the book on the table, at just the right angle for Eddie to read the title: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.

“Is it good?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I’m only a couple chapters in, so…” Steve shrugs. “Honestly, it’s the most I’ve read since starting high school.”

And Eddie gets that: the senior years he’s suffered through have left him each time with a brain like a wrung out sponge, not even having the energy for Tolkien.

God. At this rate he’s never gonna read for fun ever again.

His face must do something because Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times before saying, a little hesitant, “Hey, I’m sorry you never, uh… made it through, y’know? You—you were so close, man.” Eddie doesn’t bother wasting time on being pissed that Steve knows some of the details: ‘test results’ and ‘confidentiality’ don’t exactly go together in Hawkins High.

“Yeah, uh. Thanks. Here’s hoping third time’s the charm.”

Steve claps his shoulder. “You’ll do it, it was just tough this year. Like, I scraped through, trust me.”

Eddie snorts—he would literally kill to have a handful of Steve’s grades.

“Think my definition of ‘scraped through’ is different to yours.”

He helps Steve disassemble the mountain of chairs, and now it really is obvious that he could just leave; he only has to take a few steps, and then he’s out of there.

But he pauses.

The store is still empty.

Eddie shuffles back from the doorway. “Ice-cream for the road?”

Steve laughs. “Sure. Least I can do.”

He doesn’t ask Eddie what he wants, just serves a vanilla cup with butterscotch syrup.

Eddie suddenly feels himself fighting a smile. “Think you’ve got an agenda, man.”

“Nope. Just giving you the superior choice, Munson.”

Then Steve picks up an empty cup and pours more butterscotch into it, nothing else. He knocks it back like a shot. “Gross,” Eddie says.

Steve flashes him a syrup-streaked grin.

It’s so… juvenile.

If it wasn’t for the fact that they’re in a mall, Eddie would almost think that he’d gone back a few years, made an unexpected temporary friend that goofed off with him in the back of the class.

He finishes his ice-cream as more people flock to the counter; in what seems like no time at all, Steve’s ushering Eddie out, pulling down the security grille.

It feels a bit like a soap bubble has burst. Like the bell’s unexpectedly rung at the end of last period, in a class he was actually enjoying, against all odds.

Steve does say, quite sincerely, “Thanks, Munson. You didn’t have to… you really saved my ass.”

Eddie’s about to clumsily work his way through some reply about how it was nothing, but then they really do have to go, because some stern-faced security guard’s staring like he might vaporise them.

It’s just one day, Eddie thinks. A… what’s-it-called. An anomaly.

But he goes back to the mall the next afternoon. He doesn’t bother to make up an excuse even in his own head.

Scoops Ahoy is somehow even more packed this time—Steve’s serving up samples while Robin’s back at the register, and when she sees Eddie coming, she points at the vanilla, mouths, “The classic?”

He chuckles, nods. “How was your movie, Buckley?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” she says serenely. “I was very sick.” She coughs delicately.

“Praying for your miraculous recovery.”

He gets vanilla with butterscotch syrup (just because Robin’s the closest to that particular dispenser, that’s all).

It’s so busy that once Robin’s finished at the register, she starts filling orders alongside Steve. When Eddie picks up his cup, they barely look at him, surrounded by other cups and plastic bowls laid out for ice-cream.

Figures. Eddie knows it’s not personal. Just. Soap bubble’s burst, and all that.

He’s almost out the store when he hears a whistle.

“Hey, Munson! Go long!”

“Fuck off, no,” Eddie says automatically, a response drilled into him from many a compulsory Phys Ed class.

But he turns, just in time to see Steve throw something at him. He catches it—it’s plastic, round—somehow manages to keep a hold of his ice-cream, too.

Steve gives a brief thumbs up, before he’s back to scooping. He still finds time to do that stupid twirl move again.

Once outside, Eddie opens up his hand. Snorts.

It’s a shitty white badge, chipped in several places. His name’s scrawled on it in red marker, a cartoony anchor in the upper right corner.

On the bus home, Eddie mulls over the thought of flicking through a couple chapters of The Hobbit, something like that. No pressure, no notes—no imagining the year ahead, a teacher looming over his shoulder. Just for fun.

There’s plenty of time.

He puts his souvenir in his pocket, takes another spoonful of ice-cream.

And he has to admit that butterscotch is pretty damn good.

[arien-rey]

desires

cw: creampie, slight dumbification, slight impact play(choking), nipple play, dry humping

summary: miguel and you are lab partners and accidentally create a dangerous concoction <3

an: inspired by a certain professor cal audio🤭 iykyk also i didnt proofread so im sorry for any typos (i got a little lazy towards the end😭)

wc: 1.7k

in the heart of a bustling laboratory where the air was thick with the scent of chemicals and the sound of clinking glassware, you found yourself immersed in a groundbreaking project. Alongside your lab partner Miguel, a very meticulous scientist, you both delved in the world of scientific studies—motivated to revolutionize the world of focus and concentration, something people have been lacking in 2099.

within the laboratory walls, you felt anticipation and excitement in the air as you both pushed the boundaries of possibility, propelling the project forward with relentless determination.

As days turn to weeks, your passion for the project never faded. Countless sleepless nights, cups of coffee, and trials and errors ensued, but with every setback you came back even stronger than before and you believed you were finally reaching the finish line.

In just a few weeks, you've grown very close to your partner Miguel as well. You find yourselves sharing lunches and engaging in conversations about exciting discoveries. It doesn't hurt that he is both handsome and charming. To your surprise, you discover that he is single after discreetly asking your other lab friends. Fueled by the possibility you might have a chance, you start to dress a little differently. Gone are the days of "comfort-first" outfits; instead, you opt for shorter (riskier) skirts and cute blouses that accentuate your style. Maybe, just maybe, once this project wraps up, you'll gather the courage to take your shot.

That brings us to tonight. the quiet air filled with the soft hum of machinery and bubbling liquids. The lab was completely empty except for the two of you as usual, with dim steril white lights engulfing the room. Besides you, Miguel carefully measures the ingredients to be added into a bubbling beaker while you prepare the compounds. He looks especially attractive right now, with his hair messy and the button-up under his lab coat unbuttoned lower than usual. You both frustratedly hit a wall, and it seemed no matter what you added to your formula, you weren't getting the necessary results. You chewed on your lip, hoping for the best this time around when suddenly the silence was broken by Miguel’s sleepy baritone voice.

“What if we added a touch of this?” he suggests, his large hands reaching for a vial labeled “Enhancement Catalyst.”

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the label was partially torn and now difficult to read.

You paused for a moment, considering Miguel’s suggestion. His voice, warm and soothing, made you feel at ease even in the face of frustration. His idea seemed like it had potential, an unexplored avenue worth exploring. You studied the compound in his hand, noticing how his fingers delicately held the vial, the reflection of the lab lights dancing across its surface.

“where’d you get that?”

“It was next to some of the older blends we used for testing by the cabinets. I think we should give it a chance.”

“Maybe it could work,” you replied, a glimmer of hope in your voice. “Let’s give it a try.”

As you gingerly added a few drops of the liquid, the concoction seamlessly mixed and enveloped the air with a distinct aroma. Without warning, the mixture began to intensify, rapidly bubbling and sizzling, releasing mesmerizing sparks of vibrant colors. Both you and Miguel exchanged anxious looks, acutely aware that something had gone awry and instinctively take a few steps back.

“Be careful.” He murmurs, shielding you with his forearm as you both watch what unfolds in front of you.

anticipation filled the air once again as minutes stretch to feel like an eternity. you cock your head to the side curiously, watching the concoction turn into a glowing, luminescent liquid.

You sigh in relief.

“whew. good thing nothing bad happened!”

you mutter shyly, but as you inhale deeply, a rush of sweet fumes fills your throat. You sneeze a couple of times from the overpowering scent, only to realize that it has spread throughout the entire room.

“I'll turn on the vents.”

Miguel says, clearly inhaling the strong aroma too and walks towards the exit where a few controllers for the AC and such are.

You nod at him, suddenly taking a sharp breath as your heart begins to race. You try to shake it off as an adrenaline rush from the experiment, but instead of it going away, your cheeks heat up and you feel a strange tingling sensation in your lower stomach. you lean over your desk and blink, your mind spinning.

Your vision is hazy, and you glance to the side to see Miguel run his hand through his hair, a distressed look on his now flushed face.

“s-shit i think something went wrong. what is this?”

“I don’t know , but we need to find a way to..”

you trail off, feeling in a daze as you watch Miguel take a step towards your direction, his crimson eyes locked on you intensely. you took a shaky breath, your thighs unconsciously squeezing together. “.. reverse it.”

You turn and slam open a cabinet, ripping out your journal to find some sort of way—any way to reverse the effect of this sort of aphrodisiac, and Miguel did the same at his desk. seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours as your efforts turned fruitless. Unfortunately for you, the effects only worsen and your desire for him only electrifies more.

“fuck, fuck..”

Miguel groans, and you turn your gaze to see the tall man manspreading on his chair, his head thrown back, and brows furrowed as sweat trailed down his forehead. your gaze travels down his body and- oh. there you saw, in all its glory a huge tent in his pants, his hand resting by his thigh—twitching as he resisted with all his will-power not to touch himself. You bite your lip and squeeze your legs together, the unbearable heat in your core making you whimper quietly.

Miguel catches you looking and clenches his jaw.

“We can't.. let this consume us,” He strains through gritted teeth. “We need to quarantine .”

“Good idea. You stay here, I’ll leave the room.”

You replied breathlessly, using the last bit of your rationale. this was wrong, so so wrong… but your legs wouldn't move.

Suddenly it's quiet again, the silence only broken by both your heavy breathing. You lock eyes with Miguel, both your and his eyes half-lidded and the electric tension instantly snaps, and Miguel bolts up.

no words are said as he leans forwards and captures your lips in a hot kiss.

his large hands almost encompass you as he holds your hips, pushing you back against your desk. you moan into the kiss, tugging on his hair and he effortlessly lifts you onto the edge. after a few more seconds of passionate, sloppy kissing, you both pull away panting.

“Take this off, now.”

Miguel growls, eagerly assisting you and breathlessly helping you remove your lab coat, blouse, and skirt. With a gentle touch, you place your hand on his jaw, drawing him in for another passionate kiss. In the midst of the embrace, he skillfully slides the bra straps off your shoulders and unclasps it.

You gasp, feeling the cold lab air make contact with your sensitive skin, hardening your nipples. He reaches up and rolls the buds in between his calloused fingers and you moan, arching into his touch. Your body seems even more sensitive because of the aphrodisiac and his touches leave fire in its wake.

You gasp as he pulls you closer to him, rubbing his huge erection against your clothed core, the wetness seeping through the fabric and the sloppy sounds of your slick against him making you both moan.

“Miguel, please!”

you whine, leaning back and throwing your head back as you desperately trying to meet his grinds ,his hands holding your hips with bruising strength.

“I know, I know.. Don't worry baby, let me take care of you.”

He sighs, and finally after what felt like centuries he unbuckles his belt with one hand, the clicking sound of metal and leather making you shudder. He hastily shrugs his lab coat off, rolls his sleeves up, and unbuttons his pants and pulls it down along with his boxers, just enough to let his whole cock spring out .

You bite your lip at his impressive length, the tip an angry red with prominent veins running under the shaft.

“I’m sorry—I can’t stop.”

He stammers, right before he tears your panties off and plunges the tip inside you with no warning. You arch your back, digging your nails into his wrist as he plunges his cock inside you without giving you much time to adjust to the huge girth. You throw your head back and close your eyes, trying to breathe through the intense stretch. Thankfully you were so wet it slid in with relative ease.

“youre so fucking tight.. shit.”

he hisses, bottoming out completely before sliding it out almost all the way and slamming it back in. You moan, his praise making your stomach flutter. He pulls your legs over his shoulders and you gasp at how deep he is and full you feel in a mating press.

“shitt, miguel.. it hurtss” you slur, already cockdrunk as he begins to move in and out at a brutal pace, his thrusts heavy and mean. tears welled in your eyes and as they fall he uses a thumb to wipe them away.

“I know, I know.. its ok baby.. you’re taking my cock so fucking well..”

He groans, trailing his hands down to play with your clit. He spits a thick wad of spit where you both connect and rubs his fingertips against the sensitive bud in rapid, sloppy circles, making you sob. the pain from before melted into hot blissful pleasure in seconds, your mouth hanging open in an ‘o’ shape.

“yeahh mhm.. you like that? huh?”

he chuckles dryly, feeling how you clenched around him, desperately sucking him in. He moves his other hand to wrap it around your throat, squeezing his palm around your small neck.

“M-Miggy, ‘m gonna cum!”

you sob, your mind and vision going foggy from a mix of the aphrodisiac, the overstimulating pleasure, as well as the slight asphyxiation. Miguel leans forward, his lips almost touching your ear as he whispers:

“You don't know how long I've wanted this. I see you wearing your short little pencil skirts to work and how you wanna get my attention… and it takes everything in me to not pounce on you.”

he confesses, his hot breath fanning your ear, sending chills up your spine.

“Miguel…”

“Now cum on my cock, baby. show me how good I make you feel.”

he growls, speeding up his thrusting and the pace of his fingers on your clit until it all becomes too much and you let out a silent scream, too overwhelmed to make any noise. your nails dig into his wrist leaving crest indents on his skin as your white hot orgasm crashes over you intensely. Miguel groans and curses, trying to hold you down as you squirm and buck under his overstimulation touches, his thick fingers never slowing down on your sopping clit. After a few more heavy pounds Miguel follows; his cum gushing beautifully out of the sides of your pussy and dripping down his cock.

He doesn't stop for a minute, flipping you over and tugging on your hair, forcing you into an arch.

“Don’t think we’re done yet.”

the aphrodisiac’s effect is not gonna go away any time soon..

[ellecdc]

hello! would you maybe be willing to consider writing a kind of follow-up to the poly moonwater fics where reader is pregnant? maybe when she has the babies and everyone’s reactions?? ty for reading my request🙏

I love this little family so damn much 😭🫶

poly!moonwater x afab!reader who gives birth to their twins

CW: pregnancy, hormonal fits, brief discussion of Regulus' childhood, brief discussion of Remus' childhood, going into labour, portrayal of breastfeeding though nothing is described, Barty losing his fucking mind, Uncle Sirius for Best Uncle 2024, also the babies look like their daddies to avoid describing/labelling the mother's features

Remus felt for you. He really, really did.

But also, he was a little afraid of you.

Scratch that, he was very afraid of you.

But his sympathy for you ran deeper than his fear, which is how he found himself sitting in one of the (many) gliders Regulus has purchased for every room in your shared home as you fought to find a comfortable position in your bed.

And yes, your bed.

Because you had since kicked Remus and Regulus out of your shared bed.

And though they didn’t feel particularly bad about it, you claimed it was their fault.

You see, after a particularly worrisome fall - that took place  at six and a half months pregnant (with twins, no less) as you missed a step on your way up the stairs of your townhouse - unfortunately for you, and fortunately for Remus and Regulus, it happened in front of all of your friends one night when they were over for dinner, which resulted in a lot of fussing by James and Sirius, and caused Barty to go marching upstairs and begin moving all of your furniture and belongings into the spare room on the main floor.

“Like fuck my Treasure is navigating these stairs in her condition. The two of you are sodding useless; this should have been done months ago.” He spat venomously as Evan shouted at him that it was “not polite to reconfigure someone else's house without permission.”

You vehemently protested the move.

Regulus and Remus didn’t think it was such a bad idea.

Because of their ‘betrayal’ (read: their lack of support in your arguments against your most capricious friend devotee), the boys were not allowed in ‘your room’.

So, perhaps Remus was already pushing the limits by taking up residence in the glider as you tried and failed to find a comfortable position to read in, determined to take a nap. 

“The babes giving you grief, dove?” He asked softly, earning him a derisive scoff from you. 

“What do you think?” You spat. 

Remus grimaced but decided to soldier on. “They may be ready to come any day now.”

That was the wrong thing to say if your quick glare was anything to go by.

“No they are not.”

“Dove,” he started, closing his own book and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he considered you. “Anywhere from 34 to 38 weeks is full term for twins. The fact you’ve made it to 35 is incredible, baby.”

Your lips pinched as your brows dipped, and Remus was sure you were close to tears. “No, I’m not ready, I-” you let out a breath as you cut yourself off, alerting Remus to the fact that you were about to give away the sex of (one of) the babies. “Baby B, they need more time.” You admitted, voice quieter as if you were afraid saying it any louder would somehow jinx it and trigger your own labour. 

“They’re going to come when they’re ready.” He repeated.

He left the room after you threw your book at him. 

He followed the sounds coming from the kitchen where he found Regulus on his hands and knees underneath the cabinets, of which he’d emptied of all their contents.

The second Regulus found out that the three of you were expecting twins, and due to the nature of the superfetation and thus the risks involved, he quit his job and strong-armed (read: lightly encouraged) Remus to do the same. 

And while Remus focused on catering to you and ensuring you were comfortable (or…as comfortable as humanly possible when you had two little freaks using your organs as trampolines) and well fed, Regulus focused on…whatever this was.

“Reggie?”

“Mhm?” He responded quickly, voice muffled from where his head was still shoved deep within the lower cabinets.

“What are you doing?”

Regulus shifted and his head made a painful thump sound when it connected with the top of the cabinet before he pulled himself out of it.

“Cleaning.”

One of Remus' brows arched at that. “The lower cabinets?”

“Right.”

“Why?”

Regulus rubbed the back of his head as he looked between Remus and the mess he was currently surrounded by in the name of ‘cleaning’. 

“Well…the babies-”

“Won’t be concerned with the lower cabinets.” Remus cut him off, looking down at his boyfriend lovingly.

Remus watched as Regulus took a deep breath and deflated significantly. 

Remus pushed aside some large pots and various cleaning products as he joined Regulus on the floor and pulled him closer by the ankle. 

“What’s going on inside that head of yours, love?” He asked him quietly, rubbing his thumb along his Achilles tendon as Regulus seemed to organise his thoughts.

“I don’t think I’m going to go back to work.” Regulus blurted finally.

Remus fought to school his expression as he tilted his head in consideration. “Ever?”

Regulus shook his head and rested his chin on his knees. “I don’t know. Maybe just part time or something…I just- I don’t…I don’t want to be like him.”

“Like who, sweetheart?”

“Like my father.” Regulus bit out, bitterness colouring his tone. “Avoiding my family and responsibilities by hiding at work. Coming home to find out the babies have done something wonderful and I missed it. I…I want to be here, and I’m afraid; I’m afraid I’ll be more like him than I mean to be.”

Remus smiled sadly at Regulus as he squeezed his ankle twice. “I already know you’ll be nothing like him, my star. Considering you’re so worried about it, I know you’ll be 100 times the father he was. But, I’ll be here to make sure that stays true, okay?”

Regulus’ eyes met Remus’, and he felt his heart squeeze at the redness rimming Regulus’ eyes as they turned glassy. 

“I’ll take care of you - both of you; all of you. You’ll never have to want for anything, you know that right?” Regulus stated urgently. 

Remus smiled softly at him as he nodded. “I know, love.”

“You could stay home indefinitely too, you know.” Regulus offered shyly. 

Remus chuckled. “You just don’t want to have to face our little mama bear all by yourself.” He teased. 

Regulus chuckled in response but his eyes morphed into a lovesick gaze as he stared unseeingly out the archway of the kitchen. “She’s just uncomfortable and stressed right now.”

“She’s gonna be such a good mum.” Remus agreed quickly.

“The best.”

“We’re so lucky.”

“Rem? Reg?” Your voice sounded from the hall before your form hobbled into the archway as you used the door frame for support.

“What’s the matter?” Regulus asked quickly, kicking his feet out and sending various pots toppling over on the tile floor.

Whatever you had been on your way to say seemed to be placed on the back burner as your brows pinched and your eyes darted across the chaos that was currently your kitchen.

“What were you doing in here?” You asked slightly breathlessly. Both Remus and Regulus stood sheepishly.

“Erm, uh….cleaning?” Regulus answered in the form of a question.

One of your brows raised as you continued scanning the mess. “You’re not very good at it.”

“What did you need, dove?” Remus asked gently.

Your face softened as you looked up at him worriedly. 

“I think my water broke.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the messy kitchen as Remus and Regulus stood staring at you dumbfoundedly. 

“You…” Regulus started before clearing his throat. “You think?”

You grimaced as you looked down to your stomach sheepishly. “No I…I’m quite sure. I think-” You paused to suck in a breath through your teeth. “I think it’s time.”

The breath that followed the end of your sentence bordered on a groan and the boys jumped to action. 

“Okay, come here amour.” Regulus said gently as he supported you with one hand on your elbow and the other on your lower back and he guided you to a chair in the dining room. “Rem, can you grab the babies’ bags?”

“On it.” He answered quickly and went running to the nursery to grab two matching nappy bags. Merlin, babies come with a lot of stuff.

“Are you grabbing our bag?” Remus called to Regulus who was then running up the stairs to the ensuite bedroom.

“Oui! Amour’s bag is in her closet.”

“Got it!”

Regulus and Remus reconvened in the living room with four bags, two baby carriers, and enough panic to fill an olympic swimming pool.

“Okay, baby bags have nappies?” Regulus asked, reading off a list in his hands.

“Check.” Remus responded.

“Snappies?”

“Check.”

“Blankets?”

“Check.”

“Hats and booties?”

“Got it.”

“Okay. And who packed mama’s bag?”

“She did.”

Regulus let out a relieved sigh. “Okay, no need to check that one then.”

Remus offered him an unimpressed look as he re-zipped the babies’ bags and threw them over his shoulder.

“Okay, you grab the carriers and our bag, I’ll grab the rest.” Remus instructed, which Regulus complied as they stepped up to the floo.

“Alright, St. Mungo’s.” Remus said clearly as the flames surged green and the two men stepped through to the intake room of the magical hospital.

Both men were breathless as they nearly collided with the desk where an unimpressed mediwix looked them both up and down.

“We’re checking into the maternity ward; our partner has gone into labour.” Remus explained in an exhale.

The mediwix moved his gaze between both men, their stomachs, and the various belongings they were carrying.

“Right,” he drawled before his eyes returned to Remus’. “And, your partner?”

“Y/N L/N.” Regulus added quickly, causing the mediwix to move his judgmental stare to him.

“Right….and where is she?”

Both men spun to face each other in a mixture of horror and embarrassment.

Remus rounded the corner of the kitchen to find you sitting where Regulus had left you, one hand massaging a point of your stomach as you considered him with a look full of judgement and mirth. 

“Where’s Reg?” You goaded as Remus helped you up from your chair and started making the slow trek back towards the floo flames; his face burning hot with shame that he was sure was spreading to the tips of his ears and well down his chest. 

“He was too embarrassed.” He admitted quietly.

You sounded like you were getting ready to laugh when you doubled over and a pained whimper escaped your lips.

Remus quickly bent down so he had one hand on each of your arms, trying to help keep you upright.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m sorry. We’re going to get you in a bed and feeling better, okay?”

You whimpered again and looked up at Remus sadly. “I’m sorry.” You cried quietly.

“Dove.” He admonished sadly. “What on earth are you sorry for?”

You took in two large breaths as you tried to breathe around the pain. “You have to do this every month.”

Remus wanted to cry. For you, or for himself, he wasn’t sure. He loved you so sodding much he couldn’t even tell what exactly it was about what you said that touched him so much.

“You’re so much stronger and braver than I am though, dovey. So if I can get through it, I know you can too, yeah?” He offered softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’m only brave because I learned it from you.” You gritted out through a sob. 

“We can argue about this later, okay? Let’s get you checked in; I’m sure the mediwix is glaring daggers at Regulus for having abandoned his pregnant partner.”

He managed to coerce a small laugh out of you which he considered a win before you both stepped through the flames. 

Remus didn’t grow up expecting much out of life.

Bitten at only four years old, he was certain something would go wrong with his little body during one of his transformations and he’d be dead long before he ever hit Hogwarts age.

He couldn’t attend muggle school growing up due to his affliction and the risk of performing accidental magic in front of muggles.

Though he was certain he was going to die before age 11, he was even more certain that should he make it to 11, he’d never be accepted into Hogwarts.

When he was accepted into Hogwarts, he was certain he’d never make any friends.

When he made friends, he was certain they’d hate him if they found out about his lycanthropy.

When his friends accepted him for his lycanthropy, well….he never imagined he’d be so lucky as to find a partner who was just as accepting.

Let alone two.

For as long as Remus Lupin could remember, he never imagined ever feeling as much love or as loved as he currently felt in this exact moment.

Not only did he have two people who he loved beyond measure, but those two people gifted him two of the most perfect, tiny little beings he could have never imagined possible.

And suddenly - sitting here in a hospital room with you resting in a bed with your eyes closed as Regulus wiped lovingly at your face with a damp cloth, with a tiny little black-haired baby swaddled to perfection fast asleep in a see-through bassinet on your other side, and with an even tinier fawn-haired baby snuggled perfectly into Remus’ bare chest - every single full moon was worth it.

Every broken bone, every scar, every ache and pain and sleepless night that brought him here was absolutely, without a doubt, worth it. 

“Knock knock!” Remus could hear Lily murmur quietly yet brightly from behind the closed hospital door.

“That is so cringey, Red. Why wouldn’t you just knock?” Sirius muttered. 

“Because!” She hissed back and he could hear what sounded like Sirius being swatted with her purse. “They could be sleeping! I don’t want to startle them with a loud knock.”

“Oh yeah, Rem and Reg are definitely gonna piss their pants at the sound of you knocking on the door. Shouldn’t mama be all drugged up right now anyway?”

You chuckled under your breath as you peeled open one of your eyes to look over at Remus who was looking at you with a matching smile as you listened to Sirius being walloped three more times.

“Okay, well, you guys settle this out here then.” James decided as he pushed the door open.

He smiled at you and Regulus before his eyes met Remus’ form in a glider as he was currently doing skin-to-skin with his miniature doppelganger. 

James made a very embarrassing cooing sound (if you asked Remus) as he made his way into the room, tiptoeing like he was avoiding invisible trip wires. 

Lily and Sirius stopped their scuffle as they followed James in, beaming widely at Remus.

“Oh my Godric, Moony.” Lily cooed, looking awfully close to tears as the nickname so unusual out of Lily’s mouth caused Remus’ eyes to well up similarly. “It’s you as a baby!”

“Who was right? Girl or boy?” Sirius asked quickly, daring to reach forward and lovingly stroke a finger along the downy soft skin on the baby’s cheek.

Remus snorted and Regulus groaned. 

“Girl, Pads.”

“Yes!” Lily and Sirius cheered quietly as they gave each other double high fives, clearly over whatever tiff they were having in the hallway mere moments ago.

“Better luck next time, Reggie.” James called towards him, causing you to narrow your eyes dangerously at your friend.

“Wait.” James said as he caught sight of a little something in a bassinet behind Regulus. “WAIT.”

“What?” Sirius asked, craning his neck to see what James was looking at.

“No…” Lily breathed out disbelievingly.

“Twins?!” Sirius shrieked.

“What?” Regulus asked derisively, and Remus had to work really hard to keep his face neutral at that.

“Wha-” James started, violently whipping his head back and forth between the two infants in the room. “What do you mean, what!?”

“There’s two!” Sirius exclaimed.

Your mouth dropped open in ‘shock’ as you looked at Sirius aghast. “You see the other one too?”

The room fell painfully silent as James, Lily, and Sirius all looked bemusedly between the family of five before Remus couldn’t take it anymore and started giggling. 

His daughter began to stir from the rumbling of his chest causing Regulus to scoff in faux admonishment.

“Would you knock that off, Remus; you’re going to give her shaken baby syndrome.” He muttered before he was gently prying the tiny infant from Remus’ chest and wrapping her up in a blanket before holding her close to his chest.

“Mama.” Lily breathed out. “Two!?”

“Two.” You confirmed. Remus delighted at the shy yet proud smile you adorned as you tucked your chin to your chest. 

Throwing his jumper back on, he moved over to perch on the opposite side of your bed and pulled the little bassinet closer to the two of you.

“Are they both girls?” Lily asked.

“Yes.” Remus laughed, causing Sirius to cackle from where he stood looking over Regulus’ shoulder at one of his nieces. 

“You were wrong twice little brother!”

“Sod off, Sirius.”

Sirius smacked Regulus up the back of the head. “You watch your mouth around my nieces, hellion.” 

“Isn’t hellion a swear word?” James queried.

“It’s not a swear, it’s a noun.” Sirius explained.

“But then wouldn’t fuck be a verb?” Remus asked, causing the room to fall silent as everyone pondered that for a moment.

The silence didn’t last long as the sound of two heavy footfalls grew in volume before they stopped abruptly in front of the hospital room.

“Am I too late!?” Barty screeched (albeit quietly) into the room as he and Evan stood in the doorway catching their breaths.

“Too late for…what, Junior? What did you think was happening here?” James asked.

“Shut up.” Barty spat as he moved into the room, shoving past everyone to press kisses against your forehead. 

“My beautiful, sweet Treasure. All this work for two tossers. We could still run away, yeah? You, me and the baby; just say the word.” 

“Try babies, Junior.” Sirius taunted, causing Barty to straighten up so quickly he nearly collided with Lily as he turned to look at Sirius incredulously. 

“What!?”

Sirius smirked as he pointed to the baby in Regulus’ arms as Barty moved to inspect the tawny-haired babe.

“A Lupin. That’s too bad.” Barty muttered quietly, causing Regulus to kick at his shin and you to shout a reproachful ‘Bartemus!”.

“And there.” Sirius continued, pointing to where Remus was picking up a black-haired babe from a clear bassinet to pass into your waiting arms. 

“A Black!? Even worse!” Barty shrilled.

“Barty!” You chided again, though the smile playing at your lips severely diminished the severity of your tone.

“Oh, oh gods, oh my. I-” 

Barty didn’t seem to know where to look; pained puffs of air leaving his lungs as he spun comedically on the spot, dividing his attention between you and the two baby girls.

“Rosier, your boyfriend’s about to combust.” Lily teased as she leaned back into James who quickly wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. 

“Barty.” Evan tried, causing Barty to look at him in horror.

“There’s two!”

Even Evan seemed to find some humour in the state of his boyfriend as his lips quirked up into a smirk. “Yes, babe. I counted that many as well.”

“Two!?” He shouted again as he turned his sights on you.

“How’d….How’d you have two in there!?” He barked as he pointed accusatively at your stomach.

“Magic?” You asked shyly, looking down at your daughter who was beginning to fuss.

“Way to go, Junior. You’ve upset her.” Sirius grumbled.

“She’s hungry.” Remus corrected, stroking her dark hair before moving his hand to stroke yours in much the same way.

“Her?” Barty asked quietly, watching as you helped the infant latch. 

“Two girls, Uncle Barty.” You offered quietly, smiling softly up at your fiercest friend.

“I’m a girl uncle.” He said in awe, moving his smile towards the baby in Regulus’ arms.

“What are their names?” James asked eagerly. 

You looked shyly up at Remus who in turn fielded the question to Regulus. 

“This here,” Regulus started, pausing to clear his throat as he looked down at his daughter. “Is Rome Valeria Lupin.”

Lily let out a breathy ‘awe’ as she touched her hand to her chest, and Remus pretended he didn’t notice Sirius wiping a tear from under his eye.

“Named after the Empire, just like her daddy.” James commented with a soft yet proud smirk.

“And that one there is Soleil Pax Lupin.”

Sirius’ gaze moved to the little head he could see nuzzling at her mother’s chest. “A Sunny little girl.” He whispered quietly.

“Pax, that means peace in Latin, yeah?” Evan commented, smirking as Barty scoffed at him.

“Of course it does, Evan. Everyone knows that.”

James’ eyebrows furrowed as he looked towards Remus. “I didn’t know that…” He admitted quietly. 

“And Valeria means strength; Rome was a little younger than her sister, but she was a powerful little fighter.” Remus explained, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“They’re perfect, you guys. Just perfect.” Lily commented emphatically, earning nods in agreement from James, Sirius, and Evan.

“With no help from these wankers, surely. You did a great job, Treasure. They may have lost the lottery in terms of fathers but these girls couldn’t have asked for a better mum.”

And though Regulus rolled his eyes with an annoyed shake of his head, no one bothered to argue.

These two girls really lucked out when it came to their mummy. 

“Oh gods.” Barty whispered as he stood hastily.

“What?” Regulus asked cautiously.

“Oh gods.” He shrieked, turning a withering glare towards his friend. “You sods should have told me!”

Remus helped you right your robe as you pulled Soleil away from you and began patting gently at her back. “We thought it would be a funny surprise.” He explained.

Barty scoffed derisively and turned his ire onto him.

“Well ha ha, very funny.” He deadpanned. “I’ve only bought one of everything!”

Regulus waved him off after he passed Rome to his brother’s eagerly awaiting arms. “That’s fine, Barty.”

“No! It's not fine, Barty!” Barty volleyed back. “Evan, let’s go.” He ordered as he bent to press another kiss to your head, kissed his hand and gently pressed it to Soleil’s shoulder and did the same to Rome (much to Sirius’ chagrin). 

“Where?”

“Shopping! I need to go back and buy another of everything that we’ve bought!”

“Over the past seven months!?” Evan asked incredulously.

“Yes!”

Remus could hear them arguing all the way to the floo flames.

Lily offered to take Soleil from you to finish burping the baby as the room fell into a comfortable silence.

“So, when can we start trying again?” Regulus asked, causing Remus to grimace and you to level him with a look that would send a lesser man straight to his grave.

“Okay,” Regulus acquiesced. “We’ll talk more next week.”

Sirius laughed as he looked down at the babe in his arms.

“Sounds like your papa’s going to be sleeping on Uncle Siri’s couch, Roro.” He cooed.

From the look on your face, Remus was sure Sirius was quite right.

A/N: thanks to some of the ideas that were sent to me from anon's, like the idea that they rushed to the hospital and forgot reader at the house 🤣

[hiddenlife-manager]

Hii! I love your fics and was wondering if you’d do a pt2/blurb of one of them? The one where lando is jealous of oscar and reader, and they have jealous sex afterwards? Well I was wondering if you could write something for afterwards where lando is insecure and reader comforts him that she’d never actually leave him for oscar. Its fine if you dont want to do it just liked the idea so I thought Id share it.

Aftercare Lando x FemReader

cw... aftercare, past mention of sex, fluff, comfort, slight jealousy, oscar being a problem, etc...

notepad... I don't often do story things mainly cause it doesn't get much interest in the audience. So if this gets as big as my other smuts of lando then you might have me on board hehe.

Part One

He was sitting up tense, the both of you completely naked. It was clear that even if you let him take out his anger on you sexually, he hasn’t fully recovered. Your lips were aligned with his neck, slowly trailing down to his shoulders. You were attempting to ease him up a little. You two were exhausted, but you wanted to comfort the man you had come to love. 

“What’s on your mind?” You asked calmly, massaging his other shoulders as your breasts were pressed against his back. You know what was on his mind, and you wished for him to explain it so you could speak to him in all contexts. 

“Nothing…” He trailed off; he was low in his tone, and you sighed as you pressed your head on his one shoulder.

“You know you can’t hide a little thing from me.” You knew it was wrong to press, but you had to. “If it is about Oscar, just tell me.” 

“Of course it is about Osc. He is nothing but my competition. I am conflicted.” You brushed his air a bit as you took a deep breath in. 

“The rookie who impresses all who watch,” you chuckled, kissing his shoulder. “It reminds me of someone. Sure, he is competitive, but so are the rest of the drivers. You already signed a multi-year contract with McLaren; you have nothing to fear.” You attempted to comfort him, but he truly continued to be tense. 

“This is my life racing. Oscar is a good guy, but all he does is make me realize I am temporary if I don’t show results. Look at him, flirting with you. He lost Lily, and now he is after everything in my life. His helmet is similar to mine, and I had to change it to be different.” He began to tell you all in his mind, and he realized it was eating him up. 

“And…” You rolled your eyes and sighed. “So what? Isn’t that the point of the sport? Training to be better and not lose your seat. This job isn’t forever, Lando. He is your partner, and competition treats him as such. Stop worrying about such trivial things as helmets. I know one thing: you deserve the seat. That being said, what is so wrong about leaving Mclaren and branching in the future?" You kissed his neck once more and left a mark. “I would never leave you for Oscar. He may be hot, but you are hotter and have such a nice morning voice.” You whispered into his ear. 

He was quiet and a bit surprised you told him so straight forward. But you were like that always, and you meant well. He laughed and grabbed you, pinning you to the bed. You screamed a bit and sighed. 

“You are right. These worries are annoying.” He kissed your lips and sighed. It was a beautiful night in Monaco. All he wanted was to cuddle you. “Let's just rest; fuck the others.” He laid beside you and pulled you in closer. His voice is low and perfect. 

“I love the way you speak.” You mumbled as you rested your head on his chest. “Don’t stop.”

[eilidh-eternal]

Today I’m thinking about reader who owns a café/restaurant/bakery, and when you fuck up the recipe for something you accidentally summon Demon!Simon who decides you’re coming back with him to share with the rest of the 141.

(Cw for dub con)

He is, of course, mildly annoyed that he’s been so rudely pulled away from his afternoon tea with Johnny, and just as baffled as you are that he’s standing there with you, covered in flour, looking like you’re about to pass out.

“Messed up the recipe, didn’t ya?” You nod, incapable of words at the moment, and he sighs, dragging a shadowy hand down his face. “The salt?”

“Uh-huh…” All you can do is stare at this thing that’s just appeared in your kitchen in a smoky cloud, slack jawed and frozen to the spot because, apparently, adding too much salt to pound cake results in summoning sinfully attractive demons. “W-what do you want?” You tell yourself the wobble of your voice is because of the whispering tendrils of shadow and smoke that slither around him, crawl and twine up his arms like serpents before dissipating into the velvety darkness that floats around him, not because of his chiseled fucking jaw or the cut of his Adonis belt disappearing below his waistband.

“Me?” He scoffs, tilting his head to peer more closely at you. “You summoned me, little witch-”

“I’m not a witch,” you interject, but he pays you no mind.

“The only thing I want is to get back to my tea.” Johnny would have pouted had he been here to hear that, offended by the notion the tea is the only thing he’s missing right now, but the image of pouty, puppy-eyed Johnny, whining about Simon not paying enough attention to him, has his lips curling and cock stirring.

“Tea?” Such an innocent thing, blissfully unaware of his wandering thoughts.

“That not a thing here anymore?”

“Um… yeah, it is. I just… demons drink tea?”

“Among other things.” He revels in the way your eyes widen, lips falling open in shock again, and you take an unconscious step back. He takes a step forward and watches your throat work to swallow, thinks you’re rather pretty when you’re scared and confused as he prowls ever closer. “Well, since I’m here,” he braces his hands on the work bench opposite of you, leans forward and you stumble back into the counter behind you, “how about we make a deal?”

“A deal?”

“That is how these things tend to work.” Your hands grip the counter behind you hard enough to dent the smooth metal surface, knuckles blanched and fingers trembling.

“But I… I didn’t mean to summon you! It was an accident, I-” You don’t get to finish your protests, stunned into silence by the sudden closeness when he’s suddenly chest to chest with you, slipping through some fold in the fabric of space and reality to crowd you further against the counter, bracketed between two impossibly muscular arms.

“Doesn’t matter. ‘M here now, and ‘m not leavin’ without one. I’ll even let ya choose which part of ya I take with me.” He can feel your poor little heart beating frantically against his own chest, can see the confusion and fear on your face as you struggle to parse out the meaning of his words.

“P-part?” He hums, tilting his head again and letting his gaze drag over you, leans further into the plush swell of your breasts and bends down to brush his nose against the column of your neck, breathing in your lush scent. His hips are pressed flush to yours and he can’t help but notice how soft you are against him, even rigid with fear as you are, how perfectly you fit there, and he grinds into you, pressing you further against the counter.

You whine against the metal digging into your back and it sends a shudder snaking down his spine, draws a low, throaty growl from him, and he draws back just enough to peer into your stricken face.

“P-please don’t… don’t hurt me.”

“Only if ya ask me to.”

“I’ll give you whatever y-you want.”

“I want you.”

Your eyes are so wide, irises a speck of color against glassy porcelain, an errant splatter of paint on an empty canvas, and you shiver beneath him, bite your lip so hard he can smell the tang of blood in the air when you break the skin, and his tongue darts out as he imagines tasting the sweet ichor staining your lips.

“You… you mean my soul?” There’s a cautious optimism to your voice, as if selling your soul to him and his ilk is preferable to the other possibilities, all of the wicked scenarios, floating around in that pretty little head of yours. He hums in thought, drags a finger from your elbow up to your shoulder, and his lips peek back in a sharp-toothed grin when you tremble at the sensation.

“I do. Or I could just take you, soul and all.”

“But I’m a good person, I can’t go to-”

“Hell? Oh lovie… all the good girls go to Hell.” He croons and chucks you under the chin, forces you to stare up into the dark depths of his gaze, and grins down at you.

“No, no that’s not true-“

“Lucifer was an angel, Gods favorite, before he fell.”

“He fell because he defied his orders.”

“He was damned because he fought for freedom.”

Your face twists into a frown, brows drawing together and eyes narrowing at him, and he chuckles at the spark of defiance growing in you. He finds it amusing how you suddenly find your wit caged between his arms and pinned against his chest, like his mere presence draws out the rebellion in you.

“If you take me back with you, what do I get out of this? It is a deal after all, that’s how these things tend to work,” you throw back at him, puffing up your chest and standing a bit taller.

Johnny is going to love watching you combust, and Gaz is going to absolutely adore you, lives to compete with Johnny for pretty moans and whimpers of their names. Price will revel in taking you apart, piece by piece, and Simon… He’ll be there to stamp out the flames, to put you back together and show you the real difference between Heaven and Hell.

“Come with me and your little restaurant will only ever know success from this day forward, will never see another month in the red.” Your brows pull tighter and you bite your lip again as you consider his offer, ask yourself if it’s worth it, and he can see it in your eyes the exact moment that you decide it is. “Wha’d’ya say, lovie? Do we have ourselves a deal?”

“Yes.” Your voice is small, hesitant despite the determined set of your jaw, and the moment your assent leaves your lips Simon’s swooping down to capture them with his own, swallowing your gasp as he tastes the iron on your skin—sealing your deal with him.

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