#one thing about mickey is he needs a plan

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝕭𝖊𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖐

Derek danforth x gender neutral reader

Summary: as Derek’s personal assistant, it’s your job to do whatever you need to in order to make your boss’ day run smoothly.

This is like a continuation of the other story that I wrote for Derek, but can also be read as a standalone.

Warnings: gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Smut! Oral sex (reader giving). Dom Derek. Boss x advisor relationship. Sorry for bad grammar. Sorry if it’s cringe. Enjoy :)

Word counts: 3000+

The coffee pot is already halfway empty when you walks into the staff kitchen at half past eleven, the handle of your green and white spotted mug hanging loosely from your fingertips. You nod a greeting at a coworker of yours, scrolling through her Blackberry as she sips from her own orange mug, and step up to the counter. Setting your cup down on the linoleum surface, you grab the pot and fill the cup two-thirds with the liquid energy that doesn’t work as well as it used to.

The office is abuzz with the usual hustle and bustle. People huddle around the coffee machine, tapping away at keyboards, and discussing weekend plans.

You could hear whispers barely audible from behind you.

You strut past, your chin held high. You catch their stares but don’t flinch.

They are more than likely talking about the purple constellation that adorned your neck.

Courtesy of the esteemed boss, Mr. Danforth. They are like a badge of honor, they show how dedicated to your job you were.

You open the cabinet overhead and digs out three packets of sugar and a stirrer. Tossing them next to your mug, you traverse the small space to the fridge and pull open the door to grab the hazelnut creamer off the side. When you turns around, closing the fridge door with your elbow, Mickey is squeezing into the room around the woman as she leaves.

“Need a boost already?” Mickey asks with a bit of laughter in his voice.

Mickey is one of the members of the UDG and, although he and you aren’t particularly close outside of the office, he makes for good company during the day.

You offers up a smile before returning your attention to your coffee. “I’ve been running around all morning coordinating the arrival plans of various investors,” you explain, opening the creamer and filling your mug the rest of the way. “And there’s that joint meeting with Production after lunch so I can’t risk passing out.”

Putting the creamer aside, he tears open all three packets of sugar at once and pours them in.

Mickey hums sympathetically even though he’ll be sitting in on the meeting as well. He takes a quick look at the side of your neck, rolling his eyes at the indecency in trying at least to hide obvious things. He goes to grab a cup of greek yogurt with his name written along the top and side in thick, black marker, nabbing the creamer on his way to the fridge to put it back.

You gently stir your coffee to dissolve the sugar. You curl your fingers around the handle, careful so they don’t brush against the burning stoneware.

“Long night, eh?” He said while glancing back quickly at your neck with his eyes.

“Oh, you have no idea.” your eyes gleaming as you remembered the party that occurred the night before.

You raised the mug in a wave and laughed at the annoyed pinch of Mickey’s eyebrows. Lifting the mug to your lips, you take a sip off your coffee as you turn to walk through the floor back to your own office. It’s still much too hot, and you may have overdone it on the sugar, but you need the caffeine to kick in sooner rather than later.

You walk past, triumphant, leaving behind your coworkers still whispering behind your back, unapologetically proud. Because sometimes, in the corporate jungle, you’ve got to wear your bruises with pride.

The department is in a casual disarray with the preparations for the afternoon meeting, the potential launch of a new line of products the main stressor. It’s still rather early in discussion; all of the serious panicked overtime work won’t happen for another couple months.

Taking another sip of your coffee before placing your mug down on the coaster you drunkenly stole from a sports bar a few months ago, you drag over your tablet. You tap and drag your stylus over the screen until you pull up your email. There’s already five new emails in your inbox.

You sigh from annoyance.

At the light call of your name, you push out of your lazy lean over your desk and straighten up. Turning over your shoulder, you lock eyes with your boss. The slightly older man rests against the open doorway, a hand tucked into the pocket of his light green slacks. He wears a light smile that quirks into something of a smirk.

His pupils were dilated.

The fucker was already having fun without you.

“Yes, Mr. Danforth?” you answer, fully facing your boss with your head resting on the back of your hands closed with your fingers intertwined. Your eyes start to wander toward the floor but you drag them back up to the older man’s face.

Your boss looks you up and down with purpose. “Come into my office for a moment, please?” He talked with that preppie teenage snot voice that you’ve come to like more and more.

“Now?” You hide a grin behind your hands. You could hear footsteps of other coworkers.

“If you have the time.”

Nodding, you keep your eyes on your boss as the older man steps out of the doorway and walks across the hallway to his own office. Once he’s out of sight, you heave in a deep breath.

You grab your coffee, taking one last drink while it’s still warm because you know you’re not going to be back before it cools.

For being the CEO of a ‘successful’ company at the young age of twenty-eight, Derek Danforth has a unique head on his shoulders.

As his personal advisor, you know a lot of Derek’s quirks — the signs he’s not as indefinitely happy as he seems and wading in stress. Signs like the way his eyes were iced over a moment ago, and like the way his fingers twitched where they hid in his pocket.

And it’s your job to keep Derek ‘in check’.

It had started with a stealthy look during a meeting, when you were still relatively new to the job.

Then with a stolen smile in the hallway.

Then with a light exchange of words while you were still working at night.

To then sex whenever the two of you wanted to.

Every encounter was a risk (at least for you in the beginning), but the thrill and the passion had overwhelmed you two like a stormy wave.

You step into Derek’s office, eyes on the tips of your shoes. You drag the door shut and twist the lock behind your back without raising your chin.

“Yes, Sir?”

Derek’s fingers tap along the surface of his desk, the skips in rhythm a confirmation that he’s under stress. They stop, and then you hear the slide of a computer mouse over a mouse pad followed by a click and a flurry of typing.

And you wait, playing with your fingers behind your back where Derek can’t see. (Although he probably knows that you are fidgeting. You always had a problem with fidgeting.)

The tip tap of Derek’s fingers moving over the keys echoes in the spacious expanse of his office and the lack of immediate attention leaves you to hover between alertness and disconnect.

“Come sit,” Derek says at last, tone conversational.

You lets yourself disconnect a little more, the command enough to push you into a pleasant haze. You bobs your head in a nod. “Yes, Sir.”

Derek isn’t one for flair but the visitor’s chairs in his office have cushions like clouds. You leave a subtle hint every once in a while that you want to know where they came from but Derek has yet to divulge.

You want to reach out to touch the back of one of the two chairs, but you keep your hands to yourself as you round the desk and stop at Derek’s left. You catch a glimpse of Derek’s desk as you drop to your knees.

There was some strange paper that looked like a sort of message but you had no time to read it as the paper was instantly crushed by Derek’s fingers and thrown to the trash.

Derek sinks his fingers into your hair with an approving hum.

A quiet exhale blows over your lips. You lean into the touch, letting your eyes fall shut as you’re petted. When your mind starts to wander, you lose track of time, so you don't know how many minutes pass before Derek turns in his chair and guides you between his spread legs.

“Do you mind helping me out?” Derek asks in a needy voice, massing his fingers into your nape.

You hum, pleased. The fingers at your neck press harder and you pull your eyes open. “Of course.”

Derek’s hand leaves your neck and travels to his belt.

“Actually...” you meet Derek’s eyes for the first time since entering his office. The heady gaze of hunger makes your cheeks tint and your heart soar. At the quirk of an eyebrow, you know to continue. “I was waiting until after the meeting but I have a proposal for you.”

Derek’s right eyebrow raises to join the left. He leans back in his chair and props one of his elbows up on an arm rest. “Show me, then.”

You rise to your feet. You preen under Derek’s attention, squirming cutely as you undoe the button and zip of your pants and inches them down to your knees, along with your underwear. Waddling to face the desk, you spare a glance back at your boss before moving his laptop off to the side.

Resting your weight onto your elbows, you leans over the desk with your unbuttoned slacks held up by spread thighs. You swipe your tongue over your lips and shifts your weight onto one arm, reaching back with the other to spread yourself open for Derek to see.

The chair creaks a bit when Derek raises out of it.

“You’ve been stressed as of lately and it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it to me. I was hoping I could—”

“Quiet.”

Pressing your forehead against the desk, you bite back another whimper and clamp your lips shut.

Derek’s fingers are cold as they trail down the slight exposure of your back and over the curve of your ass. Already properly ready to take him thanks to you.

“How many times have you come today?” He rubs his finger up and down.

You shake your head.

Clicking his tongue, Derek bears his hand down on your ass, the slap light but scolding.

Your breath hitches and you exhale out a small giggle, soaring a little higher after the hit. “Zero.” You answer properly.

“I’d love to fuck you loose and then turn you over the other side of my desk. Unlock the door and let anyone who comes in see how beautifully you gape.”

Whimpering, you clench around nothing under the effect of his finger. Derek rubs circles into the small of his back, shushing you under his breath.

“You want it that badly, eh?”

His words get lost in the clouds filling the space between your ears, making his voice a dull noise that sounds like it’s happening outside the walls of the office.

“Sweetheart?”

Giggling, you press your cheek into the desk and tries to look up at your boss.

Derek pokes the tip of his nose and chuckles when you scrunches it. “You went down further than I thought you would,” he mumbles to himself. “That’s fine. I guess we both need it.”

You stare at him starry-eyed, grin uncontrollable, as Derek retrieves his fingers and yanks your pants up.

Beginning to work at his belt, Derek nods at his advisor. “On your knees”

A part of you wants to whine at the command — wants Derek to touch you, wants to be able to touch yourself — but the gruff voice of your boss’ voice scrapes over your skin and leave you warm and obedient. You push yourself up and easily return to your position on the floor, back pulled straight in attention and arms folded behind your back, hands curved around your elbows, in denial.

Derek brushes soft fingers over your cheek and under your jaw. “Aren’t you so beautiful like this, sweetheart?” He slides his belt free and loops it around the back of your neck. With a harsh tug, he pulls your face to his crotch.

“We don’t have a lot of time, so you’re going to suck me off and then I’m going to send you out,” he explains. “But since you prepared such a nice present. Sit close to me during the meeting so it won’t be as boring. If you can make it through without needing to excuse yourself, we can just leave, maybe go back to my place and fuck over and over. I don’t need to explain to you what happens if you can’t resist, clear?”

“Crystal,” you slur, mouth smushed against the stiffening swell of Derek’s erection.

Derek releases the belt, leaving it hanging around your shoulders, and let you work at the button of his pants.

You lower yourself to sit back and to be in line with Derek’s hips.

Without answering, Derek opens his pants enough to pull himself free. His cock hangs heavily between the green flaps of his slacks, already hard enough to hook to the right. Leaving one hand loosely curled around himself, he presses the fingers of the other to your lips.

You part them, still looking up at your boss with starry eyes. Derek teases a finger along your bottom lip.

He chuckles brightly but a second later his entire face closes off. “What are you smiling for?” His voice sinks nearly a whole octave and, as expected, your tiny grin drops.

Breath quickening, you quickly lower your gaze and try to straighten your back impossibly more, the sound of Derek’s voice hitting that particular low knocking you into another level of submission.

The fingers at your lip hook over your teeth and pull his jaw open wider.

“Excited to have my dick?” Derek angles his dick up and rubs the shaft, already smelling thick with arousal, over the ball of your cheek.

Your eyes begin to glaze over where they’re glued to the fall of Derek’s light green or seawater tone dress shirt over the base of his cock. You try to blink yourself out of it, faintly aware of where the two of you are and your limits, but when the hand at your mouth leaves and drags back along your jaw to settle like an anchor at your nape, the desire to sink is so inviting.

“You’re my sweet, little cockslut, aren’t you?” Derek punctuates the question by slapping the side of your face with his dick, the sound made hollow by your open jaw. “Always so good for me.”

Sucking in a shuddering breath and letting your eyes drift shut again, you nod once. “Yes,” you exhale and turn your head to press your nose into Derek’s shaft.

Derek’s grip softens and he grazes lines into your skin. “Haven’t had you like this in a while,” he says, and then reestablishes the weight of his hand.

He presses the tip of his cock to your lips, which part once more without instruction, and slides into your mouth.

“That’s it,” Derek sighs. He draws out before guiding you down his length again, giving little time to allow his slut to relax. “Take all of it.”

The bit of coarse hair at Derek’s base that pokes out over the hem of his pants tickles your nose and if you hadn’t fallen deeper, you probably would have laughed. But you’re quiet as Derek holds your face flush against his hips that shallowly roll forward, pushing his cock as far into your mouth as his limits will allow.

He sighs again, more labored, and you peel open your eyes to glance up at him.

Derek’s own eyes trail up from where they were watching your mouth to meet his slut’s gaze.

You blink three times, your signal for an okay when he can’t use his hands or words.

Derek inches out, checks his hold on you, and slides back in, gaining speed and ending up choking you as he uses your mouth to get off.

And you take it so well, hollowing your cheeks on the backstroke and swallowing around the head of Derek’s cock when it bumps the back of your throat, even as the rough treatment steals the air from your lungs and builds tears in your eyes.

Sporadically, Derek murmurs a compliment in between the low groans and hushed curses, so proud of his precious advisor, his sweetheart — and every word makes you ache between his legs, makes your hands tighten where they’re clamped around your elbows, makes you skyrocket.

The ringing of Derek’s office phone goes ignored as he focuses on the moist warmth of his slut’s mouth and chasing his end. It’ll get him in trouble one day, maybe, but here in this moment, with your throat working around his dick in that way he likes and the blood in his veins singing, he can’t be bothered with caring.

Derek doesn’t always warn you before he comes, but you know all of the signs. Signs like how he presses his nails into your skin or how his left knee trembles the slightest bit. And when he sucks in his cheeks and hum, Derek comes warm and thick on your tongue.

Some of it leaks when Derek pulls out of your mouth, sliding over your swollen lips, but the older man is quick to catch it on a finger and feed it back to you.

“Tuck me in” Derek demands after you swallow, voice still husky but now light. The corners of his lips rise into a satiated smirk.

Unfolding your arms, you shake the crawling feeling out of them before tucking Derek back into his underwear and adjusting his pants. As he redoes the buttons, Derek rubs all over your neck, upper back, and shoulders. “Was I able to help?”

With a gruff he managed to pull you on his lap, not that you showed any sign of protest. “Not too bad so far. We’ll see how I feel later tonight”

All you do in response is tuck your nose into Derek’s throat and enjoys being held.

“Can’t wait,” you exhales.

Note: thanks for reading. Criticism is completely accepted

[strayheartless]

Thinking about autistic Riku…

Riku who wasn’t diagnosed until after he became a keyblade master, and that was only because Merlin took one look at him and was like “oh my sweet summer child.”

15yr old Riku at the peak of his masking having actual fits of physical rage in his bedroom that he doesn’t really have an answer for other than “today was hard” that are actually meltdowns. We’re talking throwing things, braking shit, rocking and hair gripping. The whole nine yards.

Riku who struggles comprehending why his friends make plans and then don’t follow them through. Like building the raft. They said they were going to do it, so he was doing it. Why was he the only one taking it seriously?

Riku who’s grasp on humour and sarcasm is good up to a point. Meaning he knows how to do it himself, but if it’s directed at him it takes him a hot second to sus it out. He usually ends up giving actual explanations to people for their sarcasm, even though he’s registered what it was, and then gets told “I was joking”. Which fustrated the hell out of him because he KNEW that!!

Riku who has really bad light sensitivity and it’s part of the reason he keeps his hair long for such a long time. Sometimes he kind of wishes he could have the blindfold back.

Riku who despite purposefully keeping his hair long, spends nearly every day tying it back because it’s too much, then taking it down because that’s too much, then putting it back up and taking it back down until he seriously considers taking a pair of scissors to it.

Riku who doesn’t like to be touched unless he’s initiating the touch. Sora is the ONLY exception to that rule, but even then Riku has days when he moves out of Sora’s hold because it’s too much.

Riku who’s special interest is Gummi ships and is VERY happy when they go to see Cid and the RGRC because Cid is the only one that can keep up with his 1000mph rants about mobility blocks and rotation weaponry.

Riku who values silence, and no one can figure out how he deals with Sora’s constant stream of chatter, until he one day moves his hair back to show Mickey the earplugs in his ears. He felt guilty about it for a long time until Sora told him he already knew about the plugs and didn’t mind, he just like being with him.

Riku who likes to play with kairis hair but can’t abide having his own hair touched.

Riku who will usually eat anything but if you give him avocado he will have the biggest sensory ick moment you’ve ever seen. Same goes for mushrooms.

Riku who steadfastly refuses to sleep in fuzzy PJ’s because “no thanks I’d rather be flayed alive, it would be less stressful.”

Riku who, at aged 8, told kairi that if she put that scarf around his neck he would “absolutely start screaming” and then did when she insisted he’d catch cold. Scarfs are demon cloths.

Riku who would rather sit at the back of squalls office in the corner while the other man works, than sit in the science lab with everyone else because Squalls office is quiet and he likes that Squall says what he means.

Riku who ignored his own emotional, physical and sensory needs/wellbeing for months while looking for sora and ended up having a meltdown in front of Mickey and master YenSid.

Riku who now has an app on his Gummiphone that Cid, Squall, Even and Ienzo designed to help him build routine and regulate/track his emotional well-being.

He relies of the breathing exercises game a lot in Quadratum.

Riku who is the reason chip and dale created dark mode in phone settings because nobody could figure out why he barely used his phone until he admitted that it always felt like he was looking into the sun.

Riku who has keyblade related Stims, like tapping the flat of the blade with his nails or messing with the key chain when he’s stressed.

Riku who also has stims such as: flicking his tongue inside his mouth while he’s thinking; twirling strands of his hair incessantly; scrunching his nose; clicking his fingers when he’s distressed; tapping the toe of his boot against the opposite heel when he’s stood still; imperceptible swaying; holding his thumb knuckle gently between his teeth; soft popping noises with his mouth; tapping his palms with the tips of his fingers.

I have more but this is it for now.

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

totally random and don't know if you've been asked this before, i've read your fics and drabbles, i absolutely love your voice in them, considering how you write Ian and Mickey so well, i'd give a penny for your thoughts about Mickey's lil bridezilla notebook. do you think it's full of collage pages? mostly text? magazine scraps? does he color code shit? ugh i love him sm 😩

oh my god i forgot the most important thing!!!!!!! did he ever let Ian have a complete sneak peek through it? cause i think he probably skimmed through it with Ian while the planning was on board, but Mickey probably stored it somewhere safe as a keepsake after the wedding....what if one day Ian just happens to find it and looks through it fondly and Mickey catches him on the act, oops, they have a talk about it, idk, Mickey having a lil notebook just does something to my fragile heart 🤧🤧

hello 😌 thank you for asking - i do actually have some thoughts on this, in the way that i think mickey's wedding notebook goes through several stages.

i think at its creation, it's more of a dump-book. mickey's at his stream-of-consciousness, hunting-and-gathering phase. there's no organization - no rhyme or reason - mickey is stressed and overwhelmed and he's just gluing shit right into that motherfucker, filling the pages as quickly as he can turn them. he doesn't really have a Vision yet - he just knows he's gotta prepare for it, especially since ian doesn't seem too interested in making decisions.

come to jesus moment. mickey slaps down a stack of pictures he's cut out and goes to start adding them, only to realize he has no blank pages left. he's filled the whole thing. that can't be right, can it? it's a big notebook, and the stuff he just cut out for it is real good shit so he's gotta make room. gotta start from page one. gotta thumb through it and pull a 'wtf' face because he doesn't even like some of this shit? why'd he put it in here? tulips??? who did that! okay, time to pump the fucking brakes.

paring down. re-evaluation. ian walks into the living room one night and mickey's cross-legged in the middle of a sea of ripped papers. like some sort of hamster. ian thinks perhaps divorce is on the table, only to come closer and realize mickey's cutting shit out and pasting it into a new notebook, the glue stick caught between his teeth like a cigar (Alternate Title: Ian's Come To Jesus Moment.)

notebook 2.0 is born. there's significantly less...everything. the Vision is starting to come together. debbie gives him these little color tab bitches that he can stick between the pages so he knows where to put things. Music. Food. Flowers. etc. mickey sits down with ian again and flips through it, getting his thoughts on different things. out comes the big red marker - circling - crossing out - starring. he can see ian trying to sneak closer looks across the table, but mickey's grown very attached. it's his hopes and dreams in here, motherfucker! ian can look at it later. after he finds the chiavaris.

That Bitch. this baby is in her final form. mickey knows what he wants and knows he's got the power to haggle, secure, or steal it all when he's got his notebook tucked under his arm. she's also good and solid when he smacks lip over the head with her after he makes a passing comment about being a groomzilla. she is everything.

when he does finally see his notebook again after many years, it's because ian is thumbing through it, this teary, fond look in his eyes as he sits in a sea of boxes. mickey doesn't know if he should be embarrassed or proud or what. a lot of their wedding day ended up shifting on its axis for a ton of fucked up reasons, so as gorgeous as she is, a lot of her didn't actually get to see the light of day.

but ian is innnn lovvvve (aaaaat laaaaast my looove has come alonnnggg). so much so that for their ten year anniversary, mickey walks into their little get-together and immediately recognizes a ton of the details. like they've jumped out of the pages of his notebook and into reality ten years later. ian is a sneaky fucker! and mickey has excellent taste.

and he's just really glad that he cut out that disgusting tulip arrangement in his first notebook purge.

[quietwingsinthesky]

journey’s end au where the doctor tries to kick everyone off the TARDIS and they just go, ‘???? no?’ and won’t leave. can’t be stupid and think everyone will leave you when they won’t get out of your house.

[simpforboys]

sweethearts nite

drew starkey x fem!youtuber!reader

summary: drew takes his girlfriend to Disneyland’s ‘Sweethearts Nite’

warnings: swearing, a bunchhhhh of fluff!!

first fic of 2024!! many more to come this wonderful year <3

happy valentine’s day to all of my valentines!!

“hello beautiful friends! welcome back, or welcome, to my channel. my name is y/n and today i’m bringing you along to mine and my boyfriend’s date night!”

as you finished your introduction, you cut the camera off as you relished in the feeling of Drew’s hand placed on your upper thigh. his left hand gripped firmly on the wheel, you were playing music off of your phone.

Drew had gotten used to your filming, knowing that you upload videos every other day. considering he also made a living from filming, he understood the schedule perfectly.

it was one of the reasons your relationship was perfect. the understanding of each other’s schedules and patience when something doesn’t go as planned.

you recently just hit around four million subscribers, and due to so many people witnessing your life weekly, you and drew both valued your privacy deeply.

but since you’ve been doing youtube for three years, you’ve gotten comfortable about the thin line between privacy and reality.

“for some of you new friends, this is my boyfriend, drew.” you stated, turning the camera back on as you panned it over to drew driving.

“hey guys.” he smiled, briefly turning to wave before continuing to focus his attention on the road.

within twenty more minutes drew pulled into the mickey and friends parking lot. you were buzzing with excitement as you stepped out of the car, making sure to grab your purse and accessories.

as you went around the car you saw drew pulling up his black dickies, the waistband of his tommy hilfiger briefs exposed.

you playfully hooked your finger in his waistband, letting the material slap gently against his v line as he smirked down at you.

“really, baby?”

“are these the ones i got you?”

“i think so.”

you slipped your bag on over your shoulder as drew took your hand in his, beginning to walk towards the escalators.

you grabbed the camera, recording your shoes standing next to each other. you panned it up to drew, surprised to see him making a goofy face (which made you snort into the camera).

➽───────────────────❥

“we’re here!” you announced to your camera as the two of you approached the front gate. the february sun was minutes from setting as stars peeked out from the clouds.

you filmed drew scanning your tickets, thanking the lady before walking past the turnstile. a wide smile was on your face as the train station in front of you was covered in pink lights.

“i think we need to grab these lanyards and wristbands.” drew said, placing his large hand firmly on your waist as he guided you over to where workers were passing things out.

luckily, it was a tuesday night so it wasn’t as crowded as it could have been. the time on your watch read 6:18 in the evening.

you thanked the workers as you slipped on your lanyard, turning the camera towards you. drew was used to you vlogging in crowded places, and with the use of his height, he continued to guide you through the tunnel.

your back as firmly placed against his chest, his hands on your waist as you happily talked to the camera. it was a routine every time you vlogged, one that gave you butterflies every time he did it.

because as you’ve never asked him to help keep you protected, he just took it upon himself to hold and guide you so you can do your thing. it was one of the things you loved most about him.

as the crowd started to fizzle out as people ventured further into the park, drew moved to the left side of you as you filmed the courtyard in the middle of the entrance.

“the hearts are so pretty.” you awed, the pink, red, and purple lights brightening the buildings of mainstreet right behind.

you hadn’t realized drew stopped walking with you until you were a few feet ahead and set down the camera. when you turned around, a shy smile twisted its way onto your lips when you saw your boyfriend taking photos of you.

“why are you taking pics of me?” you asked shyly, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. he wrapped his arms around you, beginning to walk with your body trapped to his.

“because you’re my girl and i love having photos of my girl.”

you grinned at his words, your pupils dilated as you stared up lovingly at him. anyone who was watching the two of you would’ve noticed the look in your eyes.

drew pulled his phone out again, turning the two of you around so your back was to his chest. he held the camera up as he snapped selfies of the two of you, wanting to save the memory.

“do you want me to take photos of you?” a woman asked, noticing drew’s selfies.

“yes please,” you grinned. you handed the woman your own phone, tucking your camera away as you cuddled next to your man.

happy smiles were plastered on both your faces as you posted, a genuine grin on your face when Drew placed a loving kiss on your temple.

“thank you.” Drew smiled to the lady, taking your phone back and as you and him scrolled through the photos.

“you’re so cute.” you grinned up at him, kissing the bottom of his cheek as he smirked slightly.

➽───────────────────❥

as the night went on, you and Drew went on rides, ate some speciality food, and shopped.

“i’m sooooo full…. holy shit is that the valentine’s day bakery?” you gasped, breaking into a soft jog with Drew playfully rolling his eyes behind you.

his bank account was definitely taking a hit for the night, but he knew he would make the money back, but he couldn’t make memories like this with you after tonight.

so, he sucked down the guilt as he paid for a festive churro for you. you kissed him softly as a thank you, walking over to a table to set up your small tripod.

when the camera was rolling, you gave Drew one half of the churro. “okay, taste test time.”

Drew was staring down at you with an adoring look on his face, ready to take a bite. you both put the cinnamon-y sweet in your mouth, your eyes rolling back slightly from how delicious it was.

“this is the best churro i’ve ever had.” you tell the camera, showing off the decorated churro.

(unbeknownst to you at the time, you hadn’t realized how much love Drew was staring at you with until you saw the comments moments after the video published)

“what do you think, baby?” you ask Drew, turning to him as he nods his head.

“it’s good. little too sweet for me, but it’s good.” he tells you, copying your actions and showing off his half of the churro.

“holy fucking shit- are you Drew Starkey and Y/n L/n?” a teenage girl ran over, her phone out and ready for pictures.

you and Drew smiled at her, the camera still rolling. “hi, yeah we are. it’s so nice to meet you.”

you hugged the girl, feeling her squeeze you tightly as she then turned to Drew and hugged him.

“can i get a photo? you two are like my bi panic couple.” the girl overshares, clearly very excited.

you laugh softly at her words as Drew looks confused, but doesn’t let it effect him too much as he bends down for the photo.

the camera snaps and the girl thanks you both one more time before leaving.

“what the hell is bi panic?” Drew asks, making you giggle at his question.

➽───────────────────❥

as you two walked over to Pirates of the Caribbean and Haunted Mansion, a couple of people stopped and asked you and drew, you or drew, to take photos with them.

it made both of you happy to see your supporters and especially how nice everyone was.

a yawn escaped your mouth as you stood inside the line for Pirates, the smell of the water filling your nostrils.

“we need to get a candle of this scent.” you tell your boyfriend, leaning against the railing to rest your feet.

Drew can’t help but smile and shake his head at your comment. “you want a candle of everything.”

“hey, i love candles! what’s wrong with that?” you tease, feeling as he wraps his strong arm around your waist to pull you into his chest.

he placed a soft kiss on your temple, your cold skin against his warm one.

“you’re so pretty.” he murmurs softly in your hair, continuing to press kisses on your head.

“says you.” you murmur back, kissing his lips in return.

[smuttyaf]

The Business

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

wc: 4.9k

i made harry v manipulative, ik i need help, i’ll see my therapist this week

“Don’t worry it ain’t mine.”

He makes his way across the room dumping the pile of red and green bills into the sink, his forehead glistens with sweat sweeping over his face, curls sticking along his temples as blood stains cover the white button up.

“Oh my god,” You gasp, fingers dropping the Vogue magazine nearly tripping over your feet rushing towards him. You lean over the island with mouth agape looking at him switch on the facet and begin washing his hands, droplets of blood running down the sink.

“Harry, what happened?” He’s tugging off his ruined blazer, hands going to roll up his sleeves while looking at the money.

“It was fucking unbelievable baby, lemme tell you,” He fumes, pushing away from the sink to cross the room towards the bar.

Harry is ranting about what he’s covered in, hands grabbing the bottle of dark whiskey to pour a glass. The clashing of the cups have your gaze turning away and towards him. The navy tie you wrapped around his neck this morning is drench as he swallows the liquor, his hands shaking with adrenaline, pupils dilated, and breath drawing out heavy; the only thing you can do is rub his shoulders looking up at him with concern eyes.

“Look at this shirt! Look at it, it’s fuckin— ruined!” He takes a swing of his drink. “It happened so fast… Shelly took us to the money… and I’ll tell you something, Mickey he knows his shit, he does!” You back away from his raging tone, fingers wrapping together in front of you listening intently.

“So Shelly takes us to the money, right, it’s in this safe and we have him on his knees when he opens it,” He pauses drinking the rest of his whisky in one go before pouring himself another glass. “I’m looking at this guy thinking to myself holy fuck! How the fuck was he able to do this, steal two million right from under our nose when bang.” He slams the bottle of whisky down hard on the counter beginning to faintly laugh at what happens.

“Johnny caps him, he caps Shelly!” He’s shouting, body turning and stepping towards you with free hand making drastic gestures. “Blood goes flying everywhere! All over me! All over the money! I have no idea if this is even all of it.” Harry swallows back the alcohol while your watching him with heavy eyes crossing your arms over your chest, you can’t help but think to yourself how when even upset with neck going red and thundering voice, Harry still looks so handsome.

“And right then, I go through the roof and punch the dumb son’ of a bitch! I punch him Y/N, right in his dumb fucking face, I didn’t give a shit whose son he was! I just wanted to hit him again, smack some sense into the idiot,” Your eyes immediately look at his bruise knuckles covered in dried blood.

“I mean look at the shit that I gotta fucking deal with now!” He continues, walking off with drink in one hand and other pointing angrily at the money in the sink.

“What are you going to do with it?” You ask turning around, your heels click against the floor boards as Harry begins going through the cabinets.

“I told them to run it through the cycle ya’ know but no! Mickey calls up the old man and he has no other plans so he wants to pick up the money tomorrow night!” Your heart picks up with eyes going wide, Lorenzo coming over tomorrow! You follow over to Harry crouched under the sink. “Where’s the laundry detergent?”

“It’s in the linen cabinet.” You say, eyes floating back to the pile. The sound of him walking off to retrieve it sounds in your ears while you never take your gaze off what sits in front of you.

Two million, all in hundreds, just there. It was alarming that this is where you found yourself six months into your relationship with Harry. You knew from your friends at the gentlemen’s club that he was part of a certain ‘business’ but, once you saw him actually taking the relationship serious and begun confiding, you found out that he had serious connections, and it was clear then what your options were; stay at Jaspers or be a good little doll and spend the rest of your time by his side.

You’ve experienced crazy shit in the last six months together, but nothing like this. The rest of your night was spent cleaning money; soaking it in laundry detergent, hanging them as if they were on a clothing line, Harry would then press them out with an iron before running it through the money counter. That’s all you heard that afternoon, the sound of money. Eventually, six months turns into four years and what you experienced that night didn’t even shake what you’ve seen for the remainder of your relationship. It use to be easy; being able to block out the blood, the screaming, the fighting; you remember not even flinching when waiting in Harry’s Rolls at the shed of light from the assassination outside the car. It weighs on your mind heavy that you’ve grown accustomed to the violence that you’ve begun questioning when you lost your humanity?

You remember feeling scared to shoot a gun when he took you to the range, and now you didn’t even budge. So many things became so normalized to you that in the last four months you were having a realization about the life you once lived and how you became so desensitized. You remember when all you would do is relax: go to the spa, get facials, go shopping, weekly manicures and pedicures appointments until now, you don’t even remember what it’s like to have a night out with your girlfriends since you’re always by Harry’s side.

“Please! I’m sorry! Please!”

Lenny is screaming as the sound of his face smashing against the toilet thunders from inside the bathroom. Your heart is hammering in your chest, teeth biting down on the cherry stain flesh as you feel tears begin to swell your eyes.

“You want to fuck with him right, so now ya’ have to deal with us!” Johnny shouts over him with the sound of gargling being heard next. You immediately press the blend option on the margarita machine to drown out the screaming being heard through the door.

Moments like this make you wish you kept your little condo, how you would have used it for instances like this where Harry would bring someone over to interrogate. You loved the large windows and open living room, it was the perfect size for you. Remember having sleepovers with your friends or lounging in on a Sunday afternoon just in your oversized t-shirt and underwear. You missed your old life, the one that wasn’t filled with bloodshed.

The smell of Baccarat Rouge fills your nose with the feel of warm hands gathering your hair onto one shoulder before they’re trailing down your hips, lips pressing against the skin of your neck when he wraps himself around you. Sucking in a shaky breath, your fingers release the button causing the crushed ice to halt its movements.

“Harry, I’m leaving.” You state, eyes looking at the light green mixture as your fingers fall to the marble counter. You turn around in his hold with tears brimming your eyes, Harry looks at you with a frown on his face, the hands on your waist pull you deeper into him.

“What… why?” He questions, a smile soon shines. “I didn’t use the good towel.”

You roll your eyes pushing him away as you lace your arms together looking up at him upset. “I’m serious Harry. I can’t take this anymore,” You rush, brushing past him with beating heart as you begin making your way towards the stairs. The last couple of months you would tell him that this was becoming too much to bare; screaming men, blood stain clothes and white powder being the only thing you’ve seen for the last four years, you’re tired of it.

That makes him rush to grasp your hands in both of his, pulling you back into him with the sound of muffle crying ringing throughout the space causing you to break. Lonesome tears trail down your cheeks when he tugs you back into his chest, your swallowing quick breaths looking at the white door and the activities going on behind it.

“Why? Ah’ you see,” His hand tearing away from yours and going to wipe your tears. Just like always, the simple gesture has you remembering why you fell in love with him in the first place, not what’s partaking in the background. “Baby that’s what I love about you, you’re so sensitive.” Harry spreads his fingers along your heated cheeks to reach and cup your jaw in his hand. He’s holding you there just like when he rocks into your throat beautifully, he knows what he’s doing, knows that the thoughts that are flowing in his mind is also flowing in yours.

“But I like you here…” He says, stepping in with his lips brushing against yours. “I want you to stay.” His lips sink to touch, your eyes slipping shut as the delicious taste of him seeps in your mouth. The hands once tangled with his run against the material of his chest. Honey bourbon gracing itself on your tongue as he twists himself around you, only making you hum pleasantly before pulling away from him.

“You know… this is hard on me too,” He mutters stepping forward to rock you back and fourth, running kisses down the curve your neck as his hands leave their place and grip your backside. Harry knew what to do just to have you right where he wants, have you drunk off just the small taste of him.

“I’ll tell Johnny to shut him up okay? Is that okay baby?” He whispers in your ear. You swallow hesitantly while nodding your head. Harry reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet he takes out his credit card and waves it in front of your face, small smile on his lips while you have a straight one. “Even better get out of the house and go shopping.” He doesn’t even wait for you to react, he shoves it in your palm before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Pulling away from you his body turns to open the drawers few rows down, he’s grabbing a pair of clippers that make you look away from the metal and back to the melting ice. His footsteps echo against the wooden flooring as he opens the door to the bathroom, the cries are much louder with the shuffle of moving feet.

“Shut this guy up would ya’ Johnny.”

This was the routine lately, say you’re leaving and him winning you back with sweet words and his touch. Telling you to go shopping or on vacation if it was weighing down on your mind that much, this was how it always was now. Chauffeur, champagne, and spending your time in Saint Laurent just thinking about how you got here. If this dream life of being apart of the mafia was what you expected or what your friends gushed about.

You spent your whole evening stepping into each store and buying whatever looks good on you without checking the tag. It’s funny that was what you did now, you use to penny pinch and save your last by the time it was payday till you reached Jaspers. Now, you only shop at name brand stores and dine at restaurants you never thought you would be seated in. The reality of your dreams came true but to what expense? You didn’t have anyone to do it with but Harry. Friends beginning to feel scared around you, security becoming suspicious among normal civilians which leads you to the point where you’re here right now, drinking champagne by yourself in Vivienne Westwood.

By the time you made it home Harry was sitting on the couch, slouched over on his knees with the highlights of the baseball game this afternoon playing. His head snaps towards the elevator, smile on his face as you step through, the chauffeur politely placing your bags on the table next to the entrance before smiling to leave.

“Did you buy the whole store?” He chirps, lips widening as you make your way towards the sofa and place the rest of your shopping on the coffee table. You fit yourself next to him, your arm lying against the cushion while your elbow props up your head.

Harry turns towards you his eyes roaming amongst your face till they fall on the long sleeve black dress you ventured out in, his stare drinking you in as he looks at your lips longingly. You let him admire you through, remembering when he first saw you at Jaspers and he would look at you like this, trying to control himself from pining you down and having his way. As he cherishes your beauty you can’t help but do the same. His hair dishevelled with gel as loose curls fall across his forehead, there are buttons undone exposing his chest tattoos with his flesh red and cheeks glowing from the alcohol in his system, even in this state he looks so dazzling. Licking your bottom lip it breaks his trance, he reaches over and lights a cigarette as he leans back into the couch.

“I wish you would stop smoking those,” You say, hand going to the curls by his neck.

“I wish you would stop telling me you’re leaving.” Turning to look at you with liquor on his breath and eyes glossy, he draws in his cigarette. Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you break the gaze and let them lead to the white and orange bags in front of you, fingers dropping from his neck you card them through your hair and shake your head.

“I don’t know when I became so use to it H. I —I feel like I’m not me anymore?” You confide, tone small while he nods his head, still looking at you when he’s inhaling as his free hand begins running up your thigh.

“I understand baby, you know I understand.” He coos, the smell of whiskey fills your nose as he moves in deeper. His addicting aura swaying you with the way his presence is so magnetic; he wasn’t even touching you intimately, yet already you were under his control.

“It’s hard sometimes but that’s why I do this job, right… and that’s why you,” He’s tearing the hand away from his lips and letting his thumb run against your cheek, your eyes move away from the bags and lock with his green ones. “You sit and look pretty, yeah?” He says nodding his head. You push your lips together, gaze dropping to the cross hanging on his chest.

“Is that all I am to you now?” You question. “Just a pretty face?”

His thumb doesn’t stop its movements and his gaze doesn’t wavier when he shakes his head either. He was so intimidating with his tactile actions and slow movements. It didn’t help that he was handsome too, because even when you’re questioning your place in Harry’s life your panties are dripping with the way he’s looking at you.

“You already know that but, you also know that I love you for reasons more than your beauty.” Voice deep and dripping in honey as he searches your eyes; like when he had you to himself for the first time, staring at you as if he could see right through, as if he knew every thought brewing. He’s taking the cigarette back between his lips to suck on the batch before throwing it into the ashtray.

“I know I haven’t been around here lately, know I’ve been out dealing with everything but I need you here, keep my bed nice and warm, right?” Nodding your head, you lean off your arm and take Harry’s hands into yours. Feeling over every prominent vein and bone, running the pads of your fingertips over his knuckles as his lips press into the side of your neck, cologne and smoke immediately overwhelming you.

“You love me?” You ask, his fingers intertwining with yours as he begins trailing his kisses to your cheeks.

“I love you like the moon loves the stars.” He breathes against your skin, his words sloppy and low that it has you moaning softly.

His lips slip onto yours, tongue delving into your mouth and wasting no time to lick into every part. Salvia dripping from his tongue and into every crevice as his hand spreads over your thighs, shoving your body deeper into the couch as he drinks you in. Muscles moving against each other, breathless whimpers escaping the space, your fingers trail to his broad shoulders as he presses against you.

You know he’s drunk, that’s all you taste on his tongue aside from the cigarette. He was rocking his hips into your heat steadily as your almond nails run up the hairs of his neck, your lips tearing away when you look at him. Olive pupils with bruise lips, the smell of him was everywhere, you couldn’t leave him even if you tried he was so addicting like the nicotine in the air.

“Hm, you’re gonna stay here with me,” Harry says, leaning back on his knees to unbutton the rest of his long sleeve as you open your legs up in front of him. “Keep the fire nice and warm.” He hush, his fingers sliding to your thighs and slipping under the material to feel against your skin.

You suck in a breath, watching him slowly as he hovers over you between your legs, one hand rubbing you over the lace of your panties and the other rubbing the skin of your neck. You love when he submits his dominance over you, how he’s staring at you daringly and never breaking eye contact as he touches the most pleasurable part.

“Harry,” You breathe, eyes fluttering when he slips his finger under the lace and begins to run the the pads of his fingers in heavy circles.

He hums at the expression crossing your face, watching the way your chest heaves up and down and hips twitch for sped up movements. Tongue escaping his mouth and running over his bottom lip, your eyes catch on the thickness bulging against his zipper. Your hand immediately going out and feeling over him. He was hard like when you danced for him the first time, your hips swivelling against his in slow movements as you rode him through his clothes. You felt how desperate he was begging to be freed and find himself buried in your walls, however that night he didn’t get access to what he has now. Only making the groan in his throat more drawn out as the pressure on your neck increases.

“Be my good girl, yeah?” He breathes, hips rocking in your moving palm as he slips his finger into you. Moans trail out as your gaze turns away from the black trousers and to pearly white teeth tucking his bottom lip away.

Nodding your head lightly you let your hands begin to undo the buckle of his belt, pulling down the metal zipper and retrieving the thickness that you want buried between your legs. Mouth watering at the sight, your tongue slithers out of your mouth to run against the skin of his head. Lapping around the girth till your running down the length, tastebuds coating him in spit as he stands angry and red before you.

You’re so caught up in the beauty of Harry, that the pleasure he sends your way is one of shock, his finger leaving your folds to skim against your clit to delve back in you again. Motions starting slow to soon pick up in pace as the palm of his hand rubs against your bundle of nerves, his middle finger sending arousal down your thighs. Moans of pleasure leave your lips when you look at him, one hand jerking off his cock while the other plays with the globes between his legs, you let your lips envelope him; plump and glossy expanding over every vein along his shaft.

He continues to let his finger slip in you so teasingly as you moan around him, gaze caught between his happy trail and into his green eyes, how they are focus on your lips wrapped around him that leave lipstick streaks in their wake. You’re tipsy off just the feel of him, his hand holding your neck as he rocks into your mouth happily, groans leaving him as he fits himself nicely in your throat.

Another digit joins his movements, walls dripping in your juices as they welcome the extra fit. A long muffle cry escapes you as he spreads your walls blissfully, your mouth stretching with each thrust of Harry sinking down while he has you completely spread open in the living room. His fingers curling deeply in your pussy as your chest heaves with every breath before he’s sliding back down your throat.

Skin begins to glisten with sweat, hands going sticky with spit as you stoke him, eyes fighting to look up at him and the tattoos peaking from his button up. You let your hips swivel against his palm, rubbing your clit deeper into his touch as he slides in, it causes your mouth to slip Harry’s cock out with a pleasurable moan with the way he’s driving his fingers into your heat.

He’s been watching you wither underneath him since he had you in this position, looking at you come undone with only two fingers. He loves the expression on your face; brows pinch together as your small hands glide up his shaft, pink roaming amongst your cheeks to your breast begging to be freed from their confines. Harry lets you get off in his hands, he likes the way you rub yourself in his palm, he likes the way your arousal is coating him, he likes how you’re so needy for him.

Mouth electing another moan at the feeling of him sinking deeper he catches your gaze, Harry gliding his thumb over your bottom lip, their smudge red from you running them all over his member as your fingers lazily stroke him, he’s following your motions with your hips only causing your head to lean back with pleasure.

“Fuck Harry,” You cry, hips runting deeper into him when he leans down letting his lips connect with yours. The delicious taste of him spreading over you as he licks his way into your mouth feels like heaven. Adrenaline courses through your body as you twirl your tongues against each other completely lost in the way he’s making you feel and running through your veins. He smells so good, taste so exquisite, why did you ever think you could just leave. The way he makes you feel is why you stay through all the fucked up things so, why even put up a fuss when you knew where you would be once the sunsets.

“Come here love,” Harry says, pulling his embrace away from you and making you stand up. You pull your dress over your head, letting your fingers teasingly remove your undergarments as you know Harry is watching as he tugs at himself.

He lets you lie with your back against his chest, head on his arm as he takes himself into his hands and begins to run his dick over your folds. Pleasant sigh leaving when you’re lifting your thigh up to angle with Harry’s hips just in the right moment to were he slips into your pussy. The thickness of him stretching you out has you moaning loudly with your head falling deeper into his touch.

Harry sinking into you for the first time will always surprise you, the way he fills you up so thick and heavy, drawing down your walls lazily till he reaches your cervix before sliding out and pushing back in. He was always so gentle before he felt you loosen up around him, feeling the way you drip down his length and quiver with each draw of his hips.

There was a mixture of moans, whimpers, cries and groans shared between you both and floating around the heated atmosphere. His free hand holding your thigh up as he picks up his paste graciously. He’s lunging into you, chest clinging to his button up that is soaked with sweat as he leans in and presses kisses into your damp skin. The hairs by the end of your neck cling to you as your body moves with every thrust.

“Who’s gonna make you feel like this?” Harry taunts, his cock driving down your walls angrily as he fucks you. You can’t help the whimper that travels out from his words with the way he’s burying you into the couch.

“Huh? Who’s gonna fuck you like this if you leave?” Voice in your ear so deep and sexy that it makes you take your hand away from the grey leather and run them through his curls, head turning as your mouth hangs slightly open as your body rakes with complete ecstasy.

“Mhm… look at your pretty face,” Harry says, dropping your thigh and wrapping his hand around your throat, only making you sigh out in pleasure as you feel rushed kisses and the sound his hips meeting your backside overcoming the interviewers on tv.

“No one can fuck you like this, right?” He’s huffing in your ear, grip tightening around your throat as your eyes flutter open, the burning sensation of your clit throbbing in pleasure tingling down your thighs. Shaking your head in between movements your fingers trail themselves out of his curls and to the hand on your neck, feeling over his touch as he pounds down your walls. His movements so deep and fast that you can’t even speak anymore, not even cry out in pleasure.

“That’s right, no one can fuck you like me, huh.” He continues, his teeth biting down softly on your cartilage as the vibrating feeling of your orgasm cashes down on you.

God, you hate that he was so proud with the way he can have you coming undone and knowing just how. The way he rams into your heat with such aggression that it has your eyes rolling back and nails digging into the skin of his hand, the grip he’s holding on your throat only making your motions escalate to your hips quivering away from Harry’s at the exploding feeling drumming in your core.

Chest heaves up and down as your lower half twitches against him, eyes fluttering up at the chandelier high in the ceiling to the oak spiral staircase, your mind in a complete haze as you shudder against Harry, his shaft still pumping away inside you as you try to collect yourself from the riveting feelings coursing through you.

“Look so sexy all over me,” He husks, your creaminess sliding down his cock as he releases the hold on your throat. His hand slips to your stomach burning in arousal as holds you there, his hips not letting up as he continues to fuck you into the sofa.

“Oh god Harry please,” You cry, eyes opening and following his movements as you let your hands trace over his and backside meet his movements. “Come in my pussy, please.” You whimper, his teeth tearing away from your ear and lips sticking to your temple as he hums to your words.

“That’s right baby. Only I can come in your pussy cause you’re all mine, right?” He utters, fingers dragging over the skin of your stomach as you nod your head softly.

“Yes all yours.” You sigh, teeth biting down on your lip as the feeling of him stretching you out has you lightheaded.

“Fuck you look so good like this,” Harry breathes into your warm skin, his hand wiping the strands of hair off your lips. He looks at the way your throat bobs with each lazy swallow, listens to the tiny whine you make when his balls press right against your folds, feels the way he slides into you effortlessly from the juices flowing out that he can’t help the long groan that escapes him when he feels his seed spill into your walls.

Your arousal mixing with his runs down your sweaty thighs while heavy breaths escape you, your version lies tirelessly on the packages in front of you while Harry’s hand goes to play with the hairs framing your face when you move around in his hold.

It’s quiet for a few minutes, the television playing as he tangles his fingers through your locks and lets the other drape down the expanse of your stomach. The sound of his heart slows as does yours in the space between you both. Lungs finding balance with feet tangling together, the sound of Harry sighing behind you makes you turn your attention to him.

“I know you want to leave but just stay. Just for a little longer.”

[roosterforme]

I feel like Bob would be really good at overstimulation because he's so patient. He'd have you naked and in tears, several orgasms deep before he even took his shirt off.

I'm going to pretend @attapullman sent this (but she'd never go nonny about Bob), because I wrote this little ficlet as a birthday treat in response to this sexy thought. Happy birthday, Morgan!

I Need a Minute (Bob Floyd x Reader)

contains smut, fingering, adult language, overstimulation and confident Bob

Your boyfriend was not someone to mess with. You knew that for a fact. Sure, he looked sweet and innocent in his wire rimmed glasses and unassuming shirts, but inside, he was a thinker. A planner. Someone who took all the time necessary to make a decision and formulate a plan. And in your case, he was currently working on exacting his revenge.

Anyone else would have a hard time reading it on his face, but you knew him well enough to notice the soft twitch of his lips and the subtle glances he was sending your way. It was your own fault for the way you teased him at the diner, sliding your hand up inch by inch beneath the napkin that was spread out on his lap until you got to the sweet spot. While you casually talked to all of his aviator friends, you stroked him slowly through his jeans. As you laughed with Mickey and Javy, you gave him a little squeeze just to hear his soft grunt.

When everyone started to stand up, Bob was blushing as he said, "I need a minute." And you left him high and dry, climbing out of the oversized booth and making a mad dash for Natasha's car while Bob tried to hide what you did to him.

As you traipsed across the sandy beach with everyone else, Bob finally reached for your free hand. "Why don't we spread our blanket out over here?" he asked, tugging you to a stop. "The fireworks would be starting up in just a few minutes," he added. "We should get settled in."

He seemed completely calm, so you shook out the beach blanket and curled up with him so you were sitting between his legs. "Are you comfy?" you asked him over your shoulder, and he kissed the tip of your nose, making you smile.

"Very," he promised, and you turned to face the ocean just as the first red, green and orange fireworks lit up the sky. Even though you were wearing his Naval Academy sweatshirt over your sundress, you shivered as he whispered, "I'm about to be a lot more comfortable than you."

"What?" you gasped, realizing that everyone else was sitting in front of you. There was nobody watching as Bob gently pulled your legs further apart and kissed the side of your neck. Nobody noticed a damn thing when he tugged the fabric slowly up your legs and ran his thumb along your underwear, sending you scooting back against him. "What are you doing?" you whined softly, giving yourself away.

His fingers paused on the thin strip of cotton hiding your pussy from him. "Oh. You want this, huh?" When you nodded, dazed eyes focused on the fireworks, he kissed your earlobe. "You say that now."

One long finger slipped inside the elastic band of your underwear, and you gasped his name. Bob let his digit glide slowly up and down your slit while he made casually offhand comments like, "The green fireworks are my favorite. Did you know they are made out of barium salts?" Your only response was to moan a little louder, and he didn't stop you. The loud booming sounds blocked out your whines and breathy gasps as he slipped that finger inside you, lazily fucking you with it while his thumb found you clit.

He punctuated every thrust with a little swirl of his thumb, varying the speed as he went. You tried desperately to fuck yourself on that long finger, but he held you in place with his other hand. You were playing his little game now, and you knew it would be a little while before you came. 

His lips worked at your neck until you could feel a bruise forming. His teeth grazed your skin softly when you started to hiccup. You found out the hard way that the city of San Diego put on a glamorous thirty minute fireworks display for holidays, and Bob teased you for twenty-eight of them. Your breathing was so loud as he pumped his hand beneath your dress and whispered, "You want to come, don't you? You want to soak my hand even more, huh?"

"Bob!" you begged loud enough that one of the others must have heard, but Bob just kept slowing his pace until you felt tears in your eyes. Your makeup was probably a mess. Sweat broke out on your brow. But he just slowed down until he was gently tapping your pussy with his fingers.

"Ask me really nicely."

"Please, Bob!" Your voice broke on the words as he rammed two fingers deep inside you and stroked your clit with his thumb. The grand finale of fireworks blasted across the sky as you finally came, eyes closed and back arched. You didn't care who saw you like this as long as you got the relief you needed.

He kissed that tender spot behind your ear and whispered, "You're lucky I'm so nice," as you rolled your hips against the heel of his hand. And then he was slipping it back out of your panties and tugging your dress into place as everyone around you started to collect their things. When he stood up and looked down at you, he smirked as you sprawled out on your back, your limbs completely boneless. "You ready to go?" he asked with his hands on his hips.

"I need a minute."

[adoregojo]

is the type of guy to point at things that are next to each other's and say 'look its us' and i mean anything and everything. flowers, fishes, cats, birds, mickey and minnie, dear daniel and hello kitty, old random couples, fucking juices in the market, and he'll be like "damn, we always together aren't we." ITS JUICE.

BACHIRA, SHIDOU, aiku, sendo, karasu, reo, nagi

is the type of guy to show you off. like fr. on all his social media you have to be posted about 24/7. this man will go and post you as his story for the 1716262 time and say "gf reveal, don't cream your pants." his streaks is literally just a pictures of you. his whole page is a fanpage for you and has 0 shame about it. and he's actually proud of it.

BACHIRA (i love him too much srry), shidou, karasu, eito, aiku, reo

is the type of guy to hate anyone you hate. it doesn't even have to be hate, just say you don't have a good feeling about them and he already be making plans for them. you complain the guy who sits next to you? he's all ready to throw hands if needed. you hate your teacher? he'll end his career for you. you don't like the cat that keeps hunting the poor birds? he fucking hates that cat too. you don't like your new neighbour that much? he'll set him on fire for you. and you only mention him ONCE.

REO, KARASU, shidou, chigiri, rin, sae

is the type of guy to keep embarrassing photos of you. like that man has a whole ass album and he refuses to delete a single thing. a one when you were wearing glass and your hair was a mess, one when you where you were you had a green face mask and tied up bangs. and his favourite that when you were napping on the couch and drooling. it's literally his home sceen.

ISAGI, hiroi, eita, BACHIRA, karasu, nanase, reo, SAE

is the type of guy to make an account just to hate on your celebrity crush. he hates them with GUTS.

ISAGI, sae, RIN, chigiri, bachira, hiori (hear me out)

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (viii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6 p7

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : the triplets' birthday party is a perfect place for flirting, tension, and... well, matt and y/n's forte.

warnings : use of alcohol, weed and smut ( just a lil flithy icl ), beware that the word count on this ho is crazy - meaning i did not proofread!

mickey speaks : this took a MINUTE to get out im sawrryyyy. i tried to fit everything into one part and ended up rewriting almost the entire part last minute (which is most of the reason why this is very delayed), sooo hope you love??? bc i dont lmfao also the triplets r a couple yrs older in this (turning 23)

THIS IS PART EIGHT GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST!!!

"JESUS, matt. can you take this seriously, please?" chris scoffs, taking the dry-erase marker cap from its awkward spot between his teeth.

matt's not one to continue adding his opinion knowing it won't be listened to. he prefers to leave the impossible-to-get-a-word-in debating to nick and chris who have no problem yelling over each other to the point that they don't even know what the issue ever was.

so he's found comfort in sitting at the dining room table with his eyes firmly closed and arms used as a pillow for his head, leaving nothing but a dollop of his hair to be shown, or as he told chris "attempting to find peace for myself while living with you chaotic fucks."

"what could you possibly want from me?" matt asks without moving from his face down position, voice muffled and strained.

"i want you to fight for your opinion! don't you care about what we do for our birthday?!" chris stresses while nick rolls his eyes and falls into a bored stance, leaning against the dark marble counter.

matt finally raises his head causing his face to scrunch up and eyes to squint due to the sudden and bright change in lighting, "no? i actually don't give a shit, chris."

chris first feels the instigator within him sighing in defeat only for his pride to take center. he figures if nick has practically given up and matt cares so little, that gives him all of the creative action for birthday plans. exactly what he wanted.

his lips form a tight line to hide his satisfaction as he shakes his head slowly, unevenly wiping his hand across the magnetic white board (that he used to write the many ideas thrown around in his head, mistakenly thinking a visual would narrow things down for him and nick). “‘kay. then i’m getting nate to help plan us a house party and it'll be fucking perfect. because i care.”

౨ৎ

you've never been so grateful of your front door's placement this close to the kitchen. but carrying three cake boxes and a tote bag the size of your torso, desperately needing to put them down after traveling up three flights of stairs, will surely be the task that brings that gratitude out of you.

though when you arrive, your scrunched eyebrows and pouted lips are an apparent contrast to the enthusiastic vibe of your kitchen- with andrea moving her hips to the lines of spanish dancing in the air, waiting patiently for the sizzling indication of her fried egg's tenderness, and the use of pink lemonade-colored towels or handles on utensils (that made you and andrea way too happy during one of your first target runs as roommates) scattered around.

drea finally notices you when your metal keychain clanks against the countertop, "y/n!" her excitement slightly dulls with her widened eyes when she gets a better view of your face, turning the stove off and coming closer to hug you. "hi, good morning-ish. are you feeling okay? ...or, like, sad?" you silently accept her gesture and tuck your head in her neck while she caresses your hair with a sigh, "or both at the same time...?"

your response is a breathy sigh and pause before the words tumble out, "m'fine, i think. just overestimated myself a little with staying up so late." you remove your head from her neck and move backwards to lean against the countertop, fanning your hands to create a much needed breeze, "and i'm so hot, it's making me feel gross."

andrea peers into the clear plastic cutout on top of one of the boxes, "at least the cakes look nice."

a week ago you set your mind on gifting the triplets their own cakes for their birthday (thinking that sharing a day was already enough, no way would you want them to have to share and agree on only one cake). you easily gathered their cake preferences by sneaking it into any random conversations you'd have with each of them.

and after a week of planning and preparing, was it so bad if you wanted a fun night in with your roomie? andrea warned you several times to go to bed considering you'd be up at 5:30 the next morning, but you insisted that you'd be fine and asked her to help you clear the rest of the box-wine in the fridge.

you could tell matt was a little irritated that you chose rewatching episodes of a sitcom and "cheap ass box-wine" over sex with him (of course throwing the fact that his birthday would be arriving in only a few hours right in your face) but you pioneered and assured him that you'll make time for him the next day, while also sweetly reminding him that you too have a life outside of this exchange.

at midnight you sent the triplets a group message to congratulate. and a few minutes later you left andrea on the couch for your room, sending matt a birthday text of his own (because you did feel the tiniest bit guilty for rejecting him earlier) paired with a picture with your shirt lifted, hem tucked behind your teeth, and your boobs sat in a sheer bra with decorative white trimming and a bow in the center.

he didn't respond for almost an hour and you tried to not feel embarrassed or overthink his reaction at all.

you couldn't stand the giddiness that came over you (you'd blame it on being the slightest bit tipsy) when you finally got into bed to find his response gentle, in his own matt-kind-of-way, with your image loved and a grayed bubble text reading: "Very pretty, thank you"

"thanks, drea. they were a bitch to make." water drowns out your voice as you start to wash your hands in the deep sink. you run your soapy fingers over a small cut you got when dealing with an irritating cardboard box earlier, finding the stinging of the hot water a wonderful kind of bitter that further plays into your foul mood.

"mmm... i'm sure. but it's not like you can even tell. they almost look store-bought," she attempts to flatter you, turning her head from the packaged desserts to offer a smile.

when you're sweet you're the most ripe, juicy peach, eveyone knows this. but god, when you're feeling down you really are the most cranky, green apple that could force a pucker onto even the most undaunted. your face is dragged of any aloofness or sunshine with your dry response as she turns to resume her breakfast, "uh huh. you don't have to coddle me. i'll get over myself soon, i promise." you dry your hands.

andrea would argue she's not coddling only looking out for your well being- because she wants to and knows if she were neglecting her needs you'd be right on her ass as well, "okay...and did you eat?"

"just like, a bagel before i left," you open the fridge and let the door hang open as you walk across the kitchen to grab the cake boxes and set them inside. you make sure to mind your feet, noticing figaro nosily has his furry face lifted to sniff into the side door.

she strings some sarcasm into her sentiment, "oh yum." she pauses, letting the sizzle of the egg and (now faint) music linger in the air before she speaks again, "how about you go take a shower or do something that'll make you feel a little better?"

"you know i would but being around my favorite roommate is already making me feel sooo much better!" you deliver the dry joke with a smile and pick up figaro when you shut the fridge door with an accidental slam.

she turns to look at you over her shoulder as she grabs two glass plates for the both of you, scolding you like a mother (as she tended to transform into at times like this due to her essentially parenting her younger siblings) "y/n, you're only fighting yourself, go ahead now."

౨ৎ

matt can hear chris' voice only grow louder and pound against the hallway walls but assumes he is heading anywhere but the space that matt's in, deciding to continue brushing his teeth instead.

he'd only be so lucky on his birthday.

"but yeah-" chris interrupts himself to knock and barely wait for an answer before he walks into matt's sleek bathroom. "matt's here!" his phone is carelessly thrown in front of matt's face (with a frothing mouth and irritated eyes) before he has truly registered anything that has happened.

he truly wants to roll his eyes infinitely but when he sees his mother is the one on the phone, his grumpy front is quickly wilted and a glimmer kisses his spirit in a way only she could produce.

it's clear she hadn't expected matt to be in the middle of something as personal as brushing his teeth when she first sees him, "oh, hi matt!" she understands him well enough to know he absolutely hates this (this being chris unnecessarily close to him as he hunches over to keep matt's face in the camera) so she attempts to amuse him, "wow, you're really showing your age now, aren't you? just looking so put together and nice." she laughs to herself as matt tries to not smile whilst brushing, holding his index finger up to indicate that he would address her with words in only a moment.

"chris, honey, why'd you bring me to your brother when he's busy, anyway?! now we're just watchin' him brush his teeth and the angles you're givin' me are so awkward," she emphasizes her sentence as it goes on.

chris turns the phone back to himself, "because you told me to show him?!"

"no, i said 'where's matt?'" she corrects him in jest.

"okay, so am i incorrect in saying that there was an implication-?"

matt dries his face with a towel and grabs the phone scolding chris, "hey we get it, smartass-" he turns to look at her again with a smile, "sorry mom."

"mhm," she dismisses, "when's this party of yours starting?"

"soon i think," matt moves around chris to exit the bathroom, leaving chris (literally) in the dark.

"okay and how's your birthday been so far?" he smiles knowing how excited she's always been about these things.

"good, i don't feel any different. just doin' the same stuff, except today there's way more people sending me texts and pretending the care about me." matt places the phone against a bowl full of chips in the kitchen, waving when he notices chris followed him.

"get down here nick, mom's on the phone!" chris yells, coming into frame and leaning on the counter. "jeez, matt's masochism can't give any of us a break even on days literally made for our happiness. you hearin' this kid ma?"

matt shakes his head, pointing to chris with his handful of chips, "spell masochism."

chris' eyes pinch and before their mother or chris himself reply, nick is running over to them with a smile and yell of "im heree!!"

she's has the much-expected motherly urge to cry seeing her three sons (whom she rarely sees anymore) all in the same frame, "aw, hi nicky! just look at you boys...so sweet."

it only takes another second before she's crumbling in tears. their smiles drop as chris grabs his phone. they all begin spilling out the most comforting phrases they know to cheer her up.

౨ৎ

"okay people! cake is coming through! everyone move. move, move...precious cargo right here and your ass is in the way!" asha yells and shines her phone's flashlight into the faces in the crowded living room as she ushers the girls to the kitchen.

she earns a few glares that she happily dishes back and a few mumbles of "bitch" once she's walked past that has remi "accidentally" stepping on a certain people's shoes while following asha's lead.

the modern open kitchen hosts plenty of drinks and snacks as well as a worried nathan, who's shirt is barely on his torso from the amount of buttons he's undone since stepping foot in the wild space. "oh thank god the cake's are here," he sighs with a throw of his head before frantically moving a platter of chips and guac (that someone was actively eating from) and a few six packs from the island to the opposite counter, encouraging the girls to place them down with an awkward nod of his head and harsh blink of his eyes.

asha holds back a laugh at nate's odd vibe as she moves next to him, nudging his shoulder, "what's wrong with you?"

"nothing," his head whips to look at her, "well, i mean, think 'm just nervous." he starts slow but it seems he needed someone to finally prompt him to share such a frustrated rant, "like- chris comes to me and asks me to throw him the best party. yet he doesn't give me shit to work with besides his home to host it in-" he breathes, "and 'm feelin' all the pressure of planning a party right now but, you know, i just need things to go smooth and then i'll be fine..." he runs a hand through his hair, "you ladies don't worry about me." he fakes a smile and gives a small wave of his wrist to show just how "fine" he is.

coinciding with nate's rant, you've began to pour a hefty amount of vodka and lemon juice (you absolutely scoured the fridge for) into a large glass. you hand it off to andrea with a pleading "mix" as you lick the remaining lemon juice from your thumb and open cabinets to search for shot glasses.

you line up a multitude of shot glasses with various cities labeled on them as andrea pours the mixture in carefully. you immediately bring one up to nathan, "lemon drop?"

"yes, please. no way your a fucking bartender and baker?" nate's eyes widen as he receives the small glass.

"no, definitely not. just live with a girl whois always making her own drinks at home," you smile and grab your own glass as the rest of the girls follow suit.

"i need this right now," remi starts, "let's cheers to drea's DIY shit and nathan making it through the rest of the night!" she woops and the group all let out various chuckles.

"a-fuckin'-men!" nate leans to clink the small glasses softly before taking the shot quickly. he barely recovers from the shot before he's pouring more vodka into his glass and taking a second.

you get the best view of chris turning the corner and seeing you all (his reaction is more specifically for andrea) have arrived. his jaw hangs dramatically as he walks over but quickly turns to a big smile when the group all start to sing happy birthday to him. "stop it! stop it!" he jokes and begins to give out hugs and thank each of you for coming. he stops and squeezes you extra tight, bringing up the cakes sat nearby, "i know that bakery anywhere. thank you for my cake."

"of course, i had to," you smile.

"no seriously, you're fuckin' awesome, girl." you can tell he's already a little buzzed from the look in his eyes but you also know he's almost more truthful than ever when drunk.

you notice that when he leaves you to finally greet your roommate, it's very clear he's purposely left andrea last to ensure there would be no rush on his interaction.

the rest of the group leave them to their own world for a moment; as the two hug chris gives her a soft kiss on her forehead, whispering "hi, mi cariña (my darling)" an inside joke between the two of them as chris' struggle with speaking spanish never fails to make andrea laugh.

౨ৎ

"okay, okay, i'll do it," matt finally gives in, lifting himself off of the black couch with people piled on top of it. he hands his drink over to elijah smoothly and begins to playfully rub his hands together.

"'hold my beer' headass," elijah jokes placing the cup off on a side table next to him. matt stops any movement, turning his torso to look back at the boy and start to laugh while holding both middle fingers up.

"matt," erin taps him with the side of her arm twice to get his attention again, handing him the second wii remote in her hands. the screen appears extra bright in contrast to the dimness of the room which causes matt to wonder how the fuck anyone has managed to play just dance in this space without getting a sudden head rush or worse.

"okay, let's do timber because it's classic," she suggests.

"let's not," matt opposes, his hand covering his mouth to hide a grin before running his cursor over the other choices.

erin looks over to him with a blank expression, "i mean i don't care that much you can-"

"'m joking, we'll do timber," matt looks from her to the colorful screen to find the song once more.

when he notices she's stiil looking over at him with an unreadable expression, matt smiles big attempting to not laugh, causing his already-slim eyes to pinch a little extra as he turns to her, "hey e, the screen's right up there, you won't be getting much direction from starin' at me-" he breaks into obnoxious laughter mid-way through his sentence which earns him a small smack on the arm.

erin laughs a little now, "would you stop it? just click 'a' on your fucking remote."

he does as she says and looks to her as the screen loads, "thereee we go, you can cool down now, sweetheart."

as the two dance both matt and his friends make one-off comments and jokes about the many times matt almost fell (and would make sure to blame it on the rug or his shoes). they seem to be having such a great time that you don't know if you only being there for the final few lines of the song, watching erin ride matt's back as they spin in circles laughing, is fortunate or unfortunate.

the claps and whistles are wild when the two finish with a bow, the crowd around them only getting louder when matt teases that he's so hot he might have to take off his shirt, lifting it slightly then putting it back down and calling them pervs. you only shake your head and bite back a smile, hating how fucking charming he is when he allows himself to be completely lost in a good time.

matt would say you snuck onto the sectional couch- because a minute ago you weren't there and now here you are talking elijah's ear off and taking repeated hits of his blunt.

but you wouldn't say you snuck into his area, rather walked in a manner in which you'd be out of his and erin's way- of course not taking away from the birthday boy and his...good friend. so you're a bit surprised he slumps on the couch next to you and not in his original spot on the opposite side of eli, "sunnnyy," he huffs and leans his head back against the couch, "when'd you get here, huh?"

you turn to look at him and he smiles at you then looks up to the ceiling, "think an hour ago? maybe?" you hand him the blunt.

"cool, cool, cool..." matt repeats cutting himself off by placing it in his mouth. he's dressed so stylish and attractive you can't help but scan over him with your eyes; his jersey-style shirt showing off his armfuls of tattoos, baggy jeans, car keys hanging on a cheetah print clip attached to his belt loop, shoes that look straight out of the box, a matching hat that you honestly wish he'd take off, and his signature silver jewelry brightening his attributes in the otherwise dark room.

he makes the slightest "tsss" sound when breathing in the drug before speaking with smoke plummeting from his mouth, "you should dance next," he brings it back to his mouth for a final hit.

"mmm maybe...if lucas is up for it," you play with the metal can of a wine cooler that you hold on your bare knee as matt leans over you to hand an occupied eli his blunt back, his laugh trails smoke out of his mouth and into your face as he slouches back next to you.

"forgot you're fuckin, hilarious! holy shit." his hand makes its way up his own shirt to rest on his stomach as he giggles.

a smile grows on your face, "no seriously is he here?" you lift yourself up a little and pretend to look for the familiar face.

"stop that." matt chuckles and tugs your wrist gently. you almost get nervous this time when you look him in the eyes. when he's drunk, matt is so carefree and giggly in a way you rarely get to see. and now you’re starting to notice how the poor lighting makes his features appear arched and his face look carved into, yet the jagged becomes soft and fuzzy whenever the gumdrop-colored lights of the wii game hit his face with the beat of the song. he notices your staring and lets go of your wrist, "what's up?"

"nothing."

"excuse me everyone! i would like to give a speech! hello, i am giving a speechhh! everyone shut up, please!" nick projects his voice into the microphone- he stole from the karaoke machine -while standing on a dining room chair.

as people start to calm down nick speaks, "right, so, it's my fuckin' birthday!” he raises his arms and dances his fingers before pointing out matt, “and it's matt's fuckin' birthday, right over there! let's get some flashlights pointing over to my brother please!" matt’s face flushes as he covers his eyes from the sudden bright lights. you squint your own eyes from next to him and move closer to eli to avoid the flashes.

"and it's chris' fuckin' birthday..." nick looks around, "i couldn't tell you where exactly he is, just know that he is also here tonight!” the crowd roars, “anyway... i'm so- so happy to have you all with us tonight to celebrate. we turn twenty fucking three and... that feels so old saying it out loud. holy shit." nick cringes obnoxiously, slurring his next few words, "but i love my two best friends in the whole world: chris and matt, i wouldn’t wish to share a birthday with anyone else… and i love all of you thank you again. oh! and shout out nathan for holding this shit down! if you see nathan give him something... i don't know- money? a kiss? a drink? fuck if i know." as nick speaks cameron nudges him with a shot glass which he finally acknowledges, "and apparently this is a toast now so, you know, here's to getting older and having the most fun forever!" he raises the glass in the air and drinks it without further thought, inviting everyone to do the same while cheering and applauding him in excitement.

you raise your wine cooler and let out many cheers along with the rest, but of course matt ridicules you a little in jest, "really? you sit here and 'woo' while i'm going blind?!" he’s still wiping at his eyes, dealing with the aftermath of bright lights shining in his eyes; his vision tainted with faint blue and red splotches only for a second. you lean closer to him, attempting to see his eyes better while uncontrollably laughing.

"are you crying?!"

matt thinks you look really pretty even when you're quite literally pointing and laughing in his face. you move his hands away from his face and he widens his eyes dramatically, "look, no 'm not!” you shake your head in response, “does really it look like it?"

you notice his bottom eyelashes are slightly clumped and you move your hand closer, placing your thumb under his eye, "baby, that's damp!" you giggle and pull his hand close, using your thumb to draw a wet line across his tattooed wrist to prove your point.

he drags out his first word, "alrighttt. whatever! you got me, sweet girl. ‘cause god forbid i have the ability to cry?!” pulling away from you with a smile as he dries his eyes by rubbing them gently.

matt excuses himself with a quick "gonna go grab another drink or somethin'" before he does something irrational like kiss you in front of all these fucking people.

౨ৎ

you carefully open each of the packaged cakes, each revealing the boys' full names written in cursive with the uniquely styled and colored buttercream frosting you made that very morning. you used the same shades to make the puffed frosting border of the cakes, for an easy, soft garnish. remi follows behind you, lighting candles on the cakes as you go.

there's a chaos that comes with trying to gather this many (drunk) people in one area and capture their attention long enough to sing then cut cakes. it doesn’t help that the hosts are at their most unserious themselves; matt and nick both snickering and making jokes while holding onto each other while chris talks to one of his friends off to the side with his obnoxiously loud voice without regard for anyone around him.

“okay, people we’re singing!” nathan attempts to yell over the loudness of the crowded room. you and remi are then in the position of getting the attention of the birthday boys who can’t focus on the task at hand, leaving you both to snap your fingers and call them as if you were attempting to take photos of a stubborn baby.

you truly wish it didn’t irk you so terribly but you can’t help your annoyance when matt looks over to erin after she shouts from next to you, “matt, can you pay attention? your cake’s ready,” and he listens, moving nick off of him with a shoulder nudge and laugh as he approaches the row of cakes.

you recover quickly with a smile once both matt and nick’s eyes widen and mouths hang open in awe of your hard work, “s’perfect,” matt whispers to himself, now adjusting his hat to fit backwards.

“oh my god, the wax got in my cake! what the fuck,” nick whines and that cues drea to tug chris’ arm softly and urge him with a hushed, “chris ven aquí (come here)!”

and he's is down so terribly that he moves to where she wants him immediately.

chris is a known sap, especially when wasted, so he’s stood fighting the urge to cry when taking in the scene in front of him: his brothers and friends gathered together to celebrate their twenty three years of life together.

he tucks his lip into his mouth and looks down at the burning flame, slowly smiling when everyone around them begin to sing a rendition of happy birthday with all the charmingly bad high notes and run on “you”s but not forgetting to crunch all three names into a single line.

midway through the song, chris leans to hug matt in comfort while sneaking a reach into matt’s back pocket to grab the slim joint he just knew would be there. he grins to himself, “sweet! free j and free light,” placing it into his mouth as he leans over his cake to spark the joint hanging in his mouth with as much precision as possible. andrea shakes her head in confusion while filming on her phone beside to you.

“dude,” matt lets out a breathy laugh while waving his hand to clear the atmosphere of the potent smoke. sudden applause recognizing the end of the song and leading the three to blow out their candles.

matt gave up on birthday wishes a while into his teen years and nothing changes this year; he blows his candles out and claps along with the crowd before accepting his joint from chris for a few puffs of celebration.

you watch in amusement as nathan distracts the boys with shots to get them away from the cakes as andrea begins to cut. except no shot could beat the view of andrea bent over the counter like she is now, so chris is practically on top of drea with annoying whines of “i wanna see,” when she asks him to be careful and wait a second.

you, however, are actively searching for the spiked punch that elijah recommended when you run into erin and matt talking. they both look to you with different expressions as you squeeze yourself by them to get to the punch bowl.

you remind yourself that erin is your friend, not your enemy. nor your competition. meaning you also have to remind yourself that matt is some guy you fuck around with, not your boyfriend.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in while grabbing a plastic cup and using a small ladle to pour the peach colored liquid for yourself. instead of flat-out staring at the two, you take turns looking from them to your cup. you watch as they pose for a picture; erin taking his hat to place on her own head and matt smiling next to her. and another with her kissing his cheek as he laughs.

it’s upsetting- no, humiliating to you. and how especially humiliating that your first thought is whether he’ll dismiss you for erin when you ask him to fuck you later tonight? you blame the weed for getting you so worked up over minutiae interactions.

you’re brought out of your daze in the most humbling of ways: a sudden splash hits your bare foot and covers your black kitten heels in the sticky juice. “fuck,” you groan and place the ladle back into the punch bowl, taking a large sip of your overflowing drink as you look down at the puddle of pink you’re standing in.

you find a towel laying nearby and lower yourself to fumble and wipe your shoe.

“damn y/n, you like my punch that much?” a voice asks from next to you.

you look up and see lucas smiling down at you, “you made it?” you ask genuinely as he helps you rise to standing again.

“no,” he smiles and you roll your eyes, “but im wondering how you managed to spill any with this itty bitty fucking ladle?” he jokes, lifting the ladle and watching it pour the small bit of juice it managed to gather back into the bowl.

“i just wasn’t paying attention,” you laugh and sip your drink again.

“mhm…why’s that?” he squints his eyes down at you.

you tap two of your french tip fingernails against your skull, “so much is happening up here.”

“like what?”

“i don’t knowww,” you smirk and look away to take another sip of your drink.

“well, i know you look sexy as fuck in this dress right now. look at you,” he wets his lips and offers his hand to you with a grin, showing off a few of his shining tooth gems.

you try to maintain your composure and not smile too big but it’s a challenge when he playfully gets you to spin slowly for him and show off the tiny strapless dress you have on as he “oouu”s and whistles to hype you up.

“mm, you like that?” you look up at him, blinking slowly.

he nods and chuckles, “you know damn well-” looking off to the side then gaining your eye contact once more as he wipes over his mouth with his hand, glancing over your body, “‘course i do.”

"good. we should dance then," you guide him to the living room with his hand still in yours.

౨ৎ

you hate to be the bitch on her phone at a party but you can’t stop staring at it. you tap past the story then go back to look again. you even rewatch it in the perspective of someone who hadn’t been there to see the photo taken to see how it would be perceived. hurting your own feelings knowing they could very well assume matt to be erin’s boyfriend with how close they’re standing and her lips against his face.

it’s very dizzying and ruining your high quite a bit, especially paired with andrea who continues to look to you to celebrate after every ping pong ball she throws whether she makes it or not.

you go to rewatch the story once more, only this time a text from matt slides down on your screen to interrupt your sulking:

MATT

Hey come here

Y/N

where???

MATT

Outside youll see me

you let andrea know you’re going outside for air before walking over to a glass sliding door to let yourself out.

you see matt holding a stick while looking down at his phone, fire pit radiating next to him, a mass of people surrounding it.

your arms wrap and hold onto your shoulders as you walk closer, feeling the breeze rack through your body despite the internal heat from the many drinks you've had over the course of the night.

as you approach, asha gets up from her spot on nick's lap to give you a hug, "y/n! hiii." she pulls away and her hands remain on your shoulders, "your cake was so delicious, i tried a bite of each."

"oh good, 'm glad." you smile.

she feels your hands, "are you cold, babe? come sit." she guides you over to the group of people sat around the fire. "you can take my spot, i'll stand," she insists and nick agrees smiling kindly.

you interrupt matt's texting to figure out why he wanted you here, cupping your hands to shout, "matt!" across the lawn from your spot atop nick.

he looks over and quips his head while moving closer, "hey, was just wonderin' if you'd try my s'more? nick thinks he makes them best." he smiles but you can't help but feel that there's a catch to this.

"always gotta prove someone wrong. yeah, i'll do it." you agree as he moves to grab the snack he'd apparently already prepared.

nick mutters, "don't let him bully you into liking his, and don't forget who's acting as your chair currently!" from behind you as you giggle into the bite that matt gives you, holding the smore in his hand up to your mouth.

you chew slowly and matt watches, chatter and crinkles of the fire filling the heated space. you finally nod your head and matt smirks, "so good, right?" matt asks and brings his hand to hold your face and wipe around the corner of your mouth, looking to his right with a smile then back to you.

you feel awkwardly and unnaturally sensual, moving his hand away from your face and searching for what he's looked over to, catching the eye of lucas, standing with a group of guys lighting up near a fence. so that is the fucking catch.

you lick your lips of any remaining marshmallow and shake your head, annoyed, "i don't know, it tastes normal and graham cracker is fucking stale." you look up at him and his face is adorned with confusion on your change of heart.

you feel too fucking weird about this. you wish you couldn't believe that he'd use your feelings towards him for some weird shit like claiming you from lucas, but it's not surprising in the slightest; matt wants his cake yet he'll always want to eat it too.

"yeah, nick wins." you pat the side of nick's thigh to grab his attention and tell him the news, making him cheer and bring you into his chest for a small hug.

matt's lips form the smallest pucker as he watches you get up and walk towards the house without further conversation.

"bye, y/n!" asha yells.

౨ৎ

matt lays flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling to try and organize his many thoughts when his door creaks slightly, allowing a roar of party chatter into his space before it shuts again.

he lifts only his head up to see erin stood with a small smile before letting himself fall back into his plush comforter, "hey, i got your shit in the first drawer over there." he points to a tall dresser across the room.

he listens to her shuffle around before finding a large bag of weed, coming close to him and placing a few folded bills in his front pocket slowly. she then moves so that she hovers over his dazed face, "thank you, are you sure you don't need anything else from me? it is your birthday..." she grins and runs a hand over his chest. he mimics her smile (intended in more of a mocking way than she takes it) and laughs softly.

"no, i'm good on that, e. you enjoy your doobies and shit," he continues to softly laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides before she thanks him again and gives him a small peck.

"happy birthday, matty!" she sings before closing the door to his room and heading straight to his bathroom next door to pee.

matt would say it hasn't even been four minutes since erin left him when you're stumbling into his room. he repeats his look up, only to soften a bit when he sees you make effort to move some of his shoes out of the walkway so that you don't trip, "hi, baby" he waves you over with his fingers and welcomes you as if you'll be staying for long, "lock that door for me." he figures if you came to see him after storming away like that at the fire pit you're either gonna spit your thoughts in his face or sit on his face, there's no in between.

"i found you," you smile and twist the smaller knob to lock the door from the rowdiness. you then make your way over to sit at the end of his bed and begin to fiddle with the straps on your tiny heels, "my feet have been achin' so bad," you look at him as you complain.

"mm, i'm sure."

when your feet are finally free from your shoes you place them on the ground and adjust yourself on the bed. you silently grimace seeing matt with his shoes remaining on his feet despite being on his bed.

he giggles when you begin to unlace them, "feel like a fuckin' princess."

you roll your eyes and begin to pull them off, "with the way you act you might as well be one."

"ouch? it's my birthday," he holds his heart while looking to you playfully.

you tilt your head and drop his second shoe right on the floor as you stare back at him, "oh, i know."

"right. what's wrong now?"

you run your hands along his legs as you inch up his body and hover yourself over his crotch, "nothing. everything's fine, right?" you adjust your hair away from your face.

"sure, uh huh," matt looks up at you and bites his lower lip while moving his hands to hold and squeeze your full thighs. he silently admires the way you fill that tiny dress and look down at him from this angle.

you look away for a moment then decide to put your full weight onto matt, muffled groan leaving his mouth. your lips curve up as you pull his bottom lip from his mouth with your thumb to replace it with your mouth, sucking and kissing it. your tongue runs over his lips a few times before matt takes hold of your head and pulls you impossibly closer to capture your mouth messily with his own.

the kiss is a filthy, drunken sight: noses meshing and colliding, tongues playing and licking, and moans escaping and ringing into the air desperately.

you pull away with a wet smack and whisper into his lips, "i've got another present for you..."

"mmm?" his eyes widen and he squeezes your neck gently, kissing you once more, "for real? like, more than this?!" his hand feathers over your ass, insinuating the way you're sat on top of him right now could easily be his best gift tonight.

"yes," you breathe then begin to giggle, "you're gonna lose your shit, i think."

his mind can think of a lot of things you could do to make him lose his shit, "damn, okay. well, show me. you got my stomach dancin' and shit." he holds you so that you stay put as he lifts himself to rest on his elbows.

your smile bites over your bottom lip now as you raise yourself from his lap once more. your nail taps against your upper thigh as you look down at him, "kiss, please?"

he doesn't have to move much, as your leg is already so close to his face. he keeps heated eye contact with you when he kisses and marks the skin you'd point to, causing small mindless noises to fall from your mouth as you play with his soft hair (that you unfortunately hadn't seen much of tonight).

when he's finished he looks up to you with his red, puffy eyes and wet lips as you thank him, "now...pay attention." you gently demand as you slowly move your dress up your body.

matt studies your movement in awe, eventually catching your gift in his line of sight. he knows you must think you're so sneaky when you only show a glimmer of your lacy white panties, with a cursive red "M" embroidered near the waistband, before quickly pushing your dress back down with an uncontrollable laugh.

matt's face morphs to express a million different emotions and he doesn't realize how loud his voice is when he speaks, "what the fuck?!" he looks up at you- with your head thrown back laughing -then back to your covered lower half. "what was that? hold the fuck on," you body is so loose with laughter that he easily grabs you and flips you onto the bed so that you lay underneath him, still squirming in your own giggles (yelling a few "matt!"s or "matt wait i can't breathe!"s).

his face is full of amusement when he firmly lifts your dress to get a better look at what you've done for him. "oh my god, 'm gonna pass the fuck out. look at you, sunny!" he rubs his eyes dramatically and shakes his head. "no, you're so bad."

"you like it?" you ask, licking over your lips and reaching your hands up to trace the small hairs prickling on matt's jawline.

"course i do, the fuck type of question is that?!" he turns his face to kiss your inner palm before bending closer to kiss your lips once more.

"happy birthday, matt." you say in between kisses, "there's somethin' else if you look a little more."

"really?" he immediately splits from you and looks to your panties once more, running his hands over your lower stomach. the cherry red joint laying against your hip and tucked into your underwear catches him by surprise but the stoner in him nearly cums on the spot.

he removes it from it's place and kisses you mumbling a reminder that "you're so hot" and "the marijuana bug must've bit you real bad" before he gets up to store it in his bedside table, patting the closed drawer and joking, "for when i miss you."

he stands above you for an extra second to shake his head slowly with a tut, but when you whine "c'mereee," he's hushing you and removing his shirt before crawling back on top of you.

your hands run across every inch of his warm torso as you both sloppily kiss, and matt's own hands curiously make their way into your underwear for a proper feel of your wet core.

he allows you to desperately grind your hips against his hand until he eventually decides he needs to taste you. he lowers himself to face your clothed pussy, tracing the "M" with a finger as he places his tongue flat against you and places pressure on your most sensitive area.

his finger once tracing, now moves to pull the tiny piece of fabric off of you. he looks into your eyes as he easily stuffs the cloth in his back pocket, mumbling "mine now" while moving his fingers through your sticky folds.

you cry out when he dips two fingers into you teasingly, over and over again, and another series of moans leaves your mouth when he begins to lick over your clit eagerly.

matt continues his efforts, spitting on your clit a few times to watch it drip down to where his fingers harshly move inside of you; his movements quickening while he watches.

and just before you cum you dumbly warn him, which makes him stop entirely. "no, matt. stop, please come back. please."

"shhh. don't start that shit, you'll cum twice on your day..." he unbuttons his pants, "plus, you know it feels so much better when you wait and have to chase it a few times." he smirks and nudges your clit with his finger once more making you breathe out a moan and close your legs around his hand.

he pulls away from you to finish undressing before laying back dowm in his tight boxers, "come take care of me, sunny. i need you."

"hm...and i needed you too..." you lift yourself up and pout as you climb off the bed and get closer to where he lies, turning and moving your hair away for your back, "unzip me, please?"

he does just as you say and watches you finish removing your dress in only one movement. when you climb on top of him he now gets a view of your tits directly in his face that has him humming and immediately feeling you up.

he kisses and licks the skin while you scratch at his scalp in the most sensual way. you reach behind you to dip your hand into his boxers, immediately coming in contact with his sensitive and slightly sticky tip. he tilts his head back with a groan as soon as you begin to stroke him beneath the fabric making a sinical smile form on your face.

you push the boxers further down his thighs to fully expose him as you bring your lips down to him again. his moans flow into your mouth when you repeatedly rush your movements then slowly circle his head.

eventually matt's eyebrows pinch in terribly tight and he grabs your hand, sighing, "god damn, baby. chill or i'll be cummin' before i'm inside you."

you roll your eyes playfully, "okay?" as you adjust yourself to align over his length, before sinking down on top of him.

"mmm, fuck." he encourages when you lift yourself and slam back down on top of him. you move his hands to hold your hips then spread your hands over his chest as you continue.

matt can't help but slap your ass a few times after discovering the way your muscles flutter around him so perfectly each time. but one smack in particular aids you to practically fall onto his chest whining, "matt i can't, please just-."

he immediately lifts your face to give him a much needed kiss before reaching to realign himself and hold onto you as he thrusts rhythmically into you.

moans sneak from your mouth and interrupt you from kissing and holding onto matt's neck, which only encourage matt until he's completely flustered and drilling into you sloppily.

matt can tell you're cumming by your all too and familiar broken moans. and once you harshly kiss him and ask him to let go in return he finally stills inside of you and groans into your soft shoulder.

a silence coats the room, leaving the overpowering music and talking of the party to linger through the air in a cloudy murmur.

matt keeps his arms around you while you recover from your high, staring at the ceiling of his faintly lit room in questionable thought.

and he assumes you must be doing the same; only he mistakes the wetness of your tears for his own sweat as you turn your head away from him to dissolve your embarrassingly shaky breaths.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list is in the replies ily!!!!

[withahappyrefrain]

 He’s All That

Summary: Bob has always been shy, which has gotten in the way of meeting folks. So, his friends decide to give him an impromptu makeover. 

Shoutout to @liz-allyn who came up with this idea and said “Abby, how have you not written this yet?” You’re not in this fandom, but I love you and love how we bonded over our childhood love of Bill Pullman 

Warnings: Language, Rooster being a himbo, Phoenix having the majority of the group’s braincells, drinking, afab reader 

Bob was shy.

Always was, always had been.

As a child, he found comfort in clinging to his mother's leg while she talked to other people. It allowed him to take in what was happening without being dragged into the conversation.

Of course, folks always noticed him. Always cooed as they kneeled down to exclaim, "Aren't you just a shy young thing!" before continuing the conversation with his mother.

Sometimes, he misses those days. Not the part about being a child. Moreso, he missed how folks would make the observation and just move on.

Now he had friends who could not take a hint.

"Just go talk to her!" Natasha badgered. Bob had hoped he could get away with tucking himself in the corner and stealing quick looks.

The group had decided to switch things up and go to a regular bar. It was a nice change, getting to wear civilian clothes instead of the khaki uniform. New sights and new faces.

One face in particular had stood out to Bob as soon as he walked into the place.

"I don't….I don't want to bother her. That would be rude," Bob stammered, staring down at the cup of peanuts in his hands.

He thought he was being subtle. Glancing over to steal looks and glimpses of her radiant smile. Offering to pick up drinks so he could walk by and hear that bright laugh that was sweeter than any love song he had ever heard.

Apparently not.

"Dude, she's been looking your way the whole night," Bradley commented, joining the two  in the booth.

"She could have been looking at any one of us!" Bob whispered, hoping it would send the subtle message to everyone else in the group to quiet down. The amount of alcohol they had consumed had already impaired their ability to gauge the volume of their voice.

"I followed her eyes, they led directly to you," Mickey said before taking another sip of his beer, joining the already crowded booth, "Go talk to her."

"She's…she's with her friends! That would be rude!" Couldn't they see that Bob didn't have the backbone required for him to just waltz up and start a conversation? If he did, he wouldn’t still be sitting with them right now.

"So then wait until she gets the next round of drinks! It should be her turn soon," Natasha commented, narrowing her eyes on her backseater.

Why was he so aversive? The girl was practically perfect for Bob. Confident but not cocky. Wasn't afraid to be loud, but only when she needed to be. Sweet with her gingham sundress and the countless thank you’s she said to Penny, a hint of edge with how she stayed on top of her friends' stories and jokes. But not intimidating.

Bob had been looking with stars in his eyes. The lovesick look that adorned his face would have been cute, if that wasn't all he planned on doing that night. Natasha knew Bob and knew he wouldn't make a move without major encouragement.

"I-I don't want to bother her." Couldn't they get the hint? He was nervous, painfully so. Being able to waltz up to beautiful women and strike up a conversation was never in the cards for Bob. He'd stumble through his words, turning in a blushing, rambling mess, talking about the most random things, like the Lego set he just completed.

And who wanted that?

Bob could easily calculate a missile range on the fly. But talking to someone he found attractive?

Nope. Couldn't do that even if his life depended on it.

"It's not bothering if she's been eyeing ya," Bradley countered before taking another sip of his beer. Was he one to talk? Perhaps. But Bob didn’t need to know that. 

"She came out to have a good time with her friends, I doubt she wants to talk to some random guy," Bob mumbled.

A collective sigh was heard from the squad. This wasn't unusual for Bob- trying to get him to talk to people he clearly found attractive was like pulling teeth.

"Alright baby on board, I'm already tired of this conversation. Either you talk to her within the next twenty minutes or I will," Hangman declared before grabbing Javy for another round of darts.

The group stared at Bob, who was now shifting in his seat, face bright red.

"C'mon Bob, are you really going to let that sweet girl deal with Bagman?" Phoenix practically begged her backseater.

Bob didn't want her to deal with that. He wanted to talk to her, to make her smile, to make her laugh.

But how could he compete with Hangman? The man was not only good looking, but he could get out a complete sentence with zero stuttering.

Bob knew exactly what would happen. He would stumble up to the beautiful woman who had stolen his heart with just one smile, barely able to get out his name. Once she saw he was incapable of talking without making a fool of himself, she'd find an excuse to walk away and go talk to someone like Hangman.

"Just go talk to her, tell her you think she has a great smile," Bradley offered. At this point, it was no longer Bob just being ‘Bob’. It was painful to watch.

Bob scoffed, "Her smile isn't great. It rivals the sun."

"Oh my god, just say that!" Natasha felt like she was talking to one of her many younger siblings, meaning the urge to smack Bob upside the head was growing stronger and stronger.

"I can't! I'm….." he sighed, "Okay look at me."

"Why-"

"Just look at me!" His cobalt eyes were narrowed, his thin lips formed into a tight line- Bob's adorable way of looking stern.

"Now look at Hangman," he instructed once his friends finally followed his order, "Now look back at me."

"Is something supposed to be happening?" Mickey whispered to Bradley, who simply shrugged.

"Notice the difference? Please tell me you see the difference," Bob practically begged.

"I mean yeah; Hangman would benefit from having someone tell him to sit the fuck down and you're a pleasant human being," Natasha laughed.

"He…" Bob signed, "There's a type of guy that girls usually go for and out of the two….it's not me."

"Bob! You're an amazing guy, and as a woman I can confirm that any lady would be lucky to have you," Natasha assured her friend.

"Nat, no offense but isn't your view kinda skewed since you don't like men?" Bradley whispered, receiving a deadly glare in response.

"Okay, well as someone who's actually in a relationship," now it was Mickey's turn to receive a death glare, this time from both Bradley and Natasha, "Cielo has told me so many times that she doesn't understand how you're single."

"Your girlfriend has also said she wants to adopt me, so that's like my mom saying she thinks I'm swell." Bob sighed, pondering if now was a good time to start drinking.

"What we're all trying to say Bob, is that you're a catch," Bradley stepped in, "You just need to grab her attention! I have a great song for that-"

"We are not singing a song again," Nat quickly snapped.

"My ears are still hurting from Coyote failing to hit every note," Mickey commented, pulling on his ear for added effect.

"Okay, if we're not doing a song- which would totally work by the way- what should we do then? Give him a makeover or something?"

"That might be the first intelligible thing you've said all day," Nat commented.

"Roo's onto something. We just need to spruce Bob up," Mickey said, analyzing his friend's current appearance.

"What do you mean-"

"Roo, go get the comb that I know you have in your car. Mick, get our friend a confidence booster shot,” Natasha ordered, already on board with the idea.

"What are we- Nat, where are we going?" Bob asked as his pilot began dragging him to the bathroom.

—----------------------------------------

"Just follow me. If we had more time, I would put on the Teen Movie Makeover Montage playlist I have saved on Spotify," Phoenix said, trying to reach for the buttons on his top and walk at the same time.

"You're what?!"

Growing up with three sisters and being in the military, Mickey had walked in on strange things.

The sight of his friends in the bathroom of the bar, Phoenix trying to do Bob's hair in the sink, Bob being forced to sit in a chair, dodging Phoenix's hands, and Rooster holding up two Hawaiian shirts…….was high up there on the list.

"Why do you have two shots?" Bradley asked, as if Mickey was somehow the strange one in this situation.

"Why do you have two Hawaiian shirts, in addition to the one you're already wearing?" Mickey retorted.

"One of them is for Bob."

"For the last time-stop that! I'm not wearing- I mean it, Natasha!" Bob hissed.

"Which one do you think is best? I think the orange and red one would bring out his eyes," Bradley commented, ignoring Natasha and Bob arguing.

"Bob, if you didn't put so much gel in your hair, this wouldn't be so damn difficult!" Nat snapped back.

"Dude, you have curly hair?" Mickey asked, walking over to the sink to inspect his friend and roommate's hair.

"Uh, I think it's wavy?" Bob replied. Half of his hair had been doused with sink water, as was the right upper side of his shirt.

"Cielo is gonna be so mad at you! You could have gone with us when she was helping me restock the hair care routine she created for me!" The level of betrayal was not quite what Mickey felt when Bob admitted to liking Star Wars more than Star Trek, but it was pretty close.

"You and your girlfriend are so cute, it makes me want to puke," Natasha muttered.

"I call dibs on the hair. You two can help him take the confidence booster shots," Mickey instructed his friends.

Phoenix took both shots, motioning at Bob to open his mouth.

"I'm not drinking-"

"Either you take them or I tell Bradshaw to put down the Hawaiian shirts and open your mouth for you."

Bob took the shots, nearly spitting out the liquor that was burning his throat and nose.

"Oh my god, that's awful. What the heck was that?" Bob asked between coughs.

"Confidence booster. Also known as tequila," Mickey grinned as he began scrunching water into Bob's hair.

"That's disgusting! Also how is any of this," Bob gestured to the strange site that was taking place in the bathroom, "supposed to help me?!"

"You need to switch up your look! And what better way than with a new hairdo?" Phoenix said.

"Plus, that tequila should start taking effect soon. Now, blue or red?" Bradley asked, motioning to the shirts.

"We are trying to make this girl notice him in a good way Bradley," Natasha teased as she finished unbuttoning Bob's navy shirt, revealing a white t-shirt underneath.

"Wait, I think the white t-shirt is a better look!"

"Bradshaw, your observation skills are unparalleled," Natasha muttered, voice dripping in sarcasm.

"It shows off your arms and your veins! A lot of women dig veins for some reason," Bradley remarked, observing his colleague and friend.

"Isn't that usually a sign of dehydration?"

"Considering how much he loves to drink Coke Zero, that checks out," Mickey commented.

"My arms feel bare," Bob rubbed an arm with his hand, not used to showing off. He still kept his shirt on at the beach.

"Okay, what do you think?" Mickey asked, Bob's hair now fully ungelled and several curls swooping over his forehead.

"I feel like I'm going to be sick," Bob commented, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

"That's just the tequila taking effect."

"Wait! It's just missing one more thing," Rooster leaned over, taking off Bob's glasses. He folded them and clipped them to the v-neck of Bob's shirt, much like one would with a pair of sunglasses

"I need those to see!"

"You'll be close enough to her, it'll be fine," Rooster said, despite the fact that was not how poor eyesight worked.

"Should we get him another shot?" Mickey whispered to Nat.

"I don't think he's used to this much alcohol, we don't want him throwing up on her shoes," Nat whispered.

"Wait, that's a thing?!" Bob all but yelled.

"Alright, let's get him out of here and find the future Mrs. Floyd."

—-------------------------------------------

Bob didn't curse that often.

But this was fucking stupid.

He was stumbling around the bar (because he couldn't see jack shit), trying to find this girl (who was probably already talking to Hangman) without getting in anyone's face or dry heaving from the three tequila shots he had been made to take (which was harder than it looked).

Bob felt ridiculous, he knew for certain that he looked ridiculous. Why did his friends think this would work? Why did he think this would work?

What would he even say? He wasn't confident like Hangman, charming like Coyote, coy like Phoenix, cheeky like Rooster, or romantic like Mickey.

He was just…..Bob.

Sure, family members had told him "Oh Robert, any lady would be lucky to have ya!" He had heard countless "You're adorable/delightful/so charming, how are you single?" from his friends and their significant others. It was an attempt to boost him up, make him feel good.

All it did was highlight the loneliness he felt, his inability to talk to someone he fancied, and his lack of luck when it came to finding someone he could potentially settle down with.

He had tried. Blind dates, dating apps, striking up a conversation at a bar. All had ended in disaster, with Bob still single at the end.

This was pointless, so with a heavy sigh, Bob turned around to head towards the door-

when he ran straight into someone.

Due to the height difference, their head went straight into Bob's broad chest. He bucked his knees to study himself, wrapping one arm around the waist of the other person and placing his other hand on the back of their thigh to steady them.

"I am so sorry!" A sweet, familiar voice said against the fabric of his t-shirt, sending vibrations all throughout his body.

The person looked up, revealing the most beautiful eyes Bob had ever seen.

Oh fuck it was her.

"A-are you okay?" He asked, eyes squinting so he could take in every detail of her face; every eyelash, mark, mole.

"I'm good, thanks for catching me!" It was then Bob realized his hands were still on her. He became all too aware of the fabric that draped her waist, even more aware of the soft skin of her bare thigh.

"I'm….I'm so sorry," he removed his hands from her body, taking a step back, "I um I should have watched where I'm going."

"I mean, it's hard to watch out for someone who's literally not in your line of vision," She giggled, bringing a hand up to her mouth. It was then Bob noticed the small outline of a moon inked on her inner wrist.

Bella Luna.

Somewhere, Bradley, Phoenix, and Mickey were all mouthing something for him to say.

Good thing he couldn't see jack shit.

"I should have been more careful," one of his hands reached up to the nape of his neck, running his hands through the curls and did she just bite her lip at me?

"So should I! Honestly, it's my fault," she began digging through her purse, "I really should be wearing these!"

Bob's mouth dropped as she pulled out a pair of black octagonal glasses and placed them on her face.

The frames were perfect, accentuating her gorgeous features, particularly her bright, doe-like eyes.

Bob could stare into those eyes for all of eternity. They were warm but also grounding, like the force of gravity that always pulled him back from sky to land.

He would never complain about being brought down if she was there on the ground.

"Oh my god, they're going to get married," Bradley remarked to Natasha and Mickey. The three were huddled together, watching from a distance.

"Just because she wears glasses too doesn't make her Bob's future wife," Natasha's eyes could not roll any harder.

"Nah, I have a knack for these things. Called it with Mickey and his girl and he's currently saving up for a ring. Also did you message her Aunt yet? Today's her birthday," Bradley asked the other WSO.

"Yeah….." Mickey said, giving the two pilots no confidence as he quickly pulled out his phone to type up a message.

"Well, it's only fitting I wear mine then," Bob said with a smile on his face, reaching down to grab his glasses. Whether it was the tequila or her presence that was putting him at ease, he didn't know. And he wasn't super concerned in regards to finding out.

Her eyes widened when Bob put his glasses on, "Oh my god! You're," she put a hand up to her forehead, as if she was smacking herself for not realizing it sooner, "Lieutenant Floyd! I am so sorry! I'm-I'm far-sighted and you didn't have your glasses on so I had no idea it was you I had-"

"Y-you know my name?" Bob asked, astounded that this angel in her adorable glasses knew who he was.

Her eyes widened at his question, heat rushing to her face, "Yeah, I um…I noticed you from across the bar, not that I was staring, it's just hard not to notice you…wait, that sounds bad! You're just really handsome and so-"

Bob felt a hand squeeze one of his shoulders, "She was asking who the guy in glasses was."

Bob turned his head and much to his (and everyone else's) surprise, there was Hangman standing there with a smirk.

Jake was only there long enough to establish his presence and flash a knowing wink to the woman who was now clearly flustered.

"I-I am so sorry," She stammered out, unable to look Bob in the eye.

"Why?" Bob asked. Usually he was the one apologizing in these types of situations. But he wasn't. He actually felt….pretty good? Was this what feeling confident was like?

She had displayed interest in him, asking for his name. Which confirmed that all those times he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, she was actually looking at him.

And that was when he had his glasses and gelled hair. She looked at him when he was Bob.

That made him feel pretty damn good.

"Plus, I've been looking for the moon to my stars for years. Would hate to see you go after we just met," He added, giving her a smile so soft it made her knees weak.

Her brows knit together in confusion, as Bob took off his watch. Confusion turned into astoundment when he revealed a cluster of three small stars, inked on his inner wrist.

He held it up to her tattooed wrist. She stared in silence. 

Two separate tattoos. Now complete as one. 

“Yeah, they’re getting married,” Jake commented, now standing with Mickey, Bradley, and Natasha. 

"See? Even Hangman agrees with me!" Bradley exclaimed.

"A broken clock is right twice a day Bradshaw, don't get used to it."

She looked down at the inked skin- hers and Bob's. Then back at him, then down again.

The silence got to Bob, who began to follow his natural instincts: apologize.

Bob liked to think he wasn’t super corny. Sure, he always planned to bring roses weekly to his person. That was a given. But matching tattoos?

Maybe it was a bit too much.

"Can I buy you a drink?" She asked, unphased by his rambling.

"Sorry, that was really cheesy, I just always thought that the moon and stars go together better as a couple's tattoo than the moon and sun, because they don't ever meet and I just said couple's tattoos, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Can it be water? My friends made me take three tequila shots to help me talk to you, but all it's done is made the room start to spin," Bob asked, completely serious.

"Absolutely!" She found his hand with ease, threading her fingers through his, "My friends made me take two vodka shots as a 'confidence boost', so I would love some water right now."

"Lead the way, Luna." Bob couldn't help but smile at how the nickname caused the bridge of her nose to scrunch up in delight.

He'd do anything to see it again.

Something was telling him the probability of that was extremely likely.

Call it luck or confidence. Either way, Bob Floyd felt good.

________________________________________

@chxosunbound @heartsforts @lt-bradshaw @soverign-lights @mymamalife @bobfloydsbabe

[jo-harrington]

Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 1)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love--some crushes at least, Babysitter Steve, No Upside Down means slightly still King Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, no smut in Part 1 but liable to be in other chapters

Note: After a very hot and fast suggestion by @shiftingtherain, this mini-series was born. And instead of working on Store Manager Verse like I wanted to, here we are. This part is a little shorter...it's the intro, sue me. Next few parts will be a tad longer.

Credit for the header partially goes to me for the design and the logistics but I was tired, so I may have borrowed gifs from @emziess and Netflix itself as a jumping off point (with permission from Emzies and Netflix is a corporation so they can rot). I can only do so much guys, I also had to write this thing too.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

If Eddie never saw Steve Harrington again in his life, it would still be too soon.

He didn't always indulge in rentals from Family Video—if it was too cold and wet to have band practice in Gareth's garage, or if he was having an especially bad week at school, or if he needed something a little more realistic than the illustrations of Heavy Metal magazine to help him satisfy his needs—but today just had that special feel to it.

He'd gotten a B on his math test, Rick had been feeling a little under the weather and let Eddie make the rounds to his usuals for a sweet little cut, and he had found a dusty old book about alchemy and occultism at the library that was going to help him put the finishing touches on tomorrow night's Hellfire session.

For all of that, Eddie thought a little reward was in order.

A little Dark Crystal, a little pizza from Lou's, a little weed...he'd be having the best Thursday night.

Except...

For the past twenty minutes, he'd pretended to hem and haw over the selection of movies just so he could glare across the store at the counter, where Steve stood, flirting and making grandiose promises, with you.

He burned with jealousy, and God, it took almost everything in him not to gag as Steve reached across the counter to slyly hold your hand. And everything else for his heart not to break as you just let it happen.

Eddie didn't know how or when or why this started—when Harrington had gotten his claws into you and how he had managed to charm his way into your heart—when it should have been Eddie instead.

Eddie'd had a crush on you for years but had always been too nervous to do anything about it.

You were a year younger than him, and friends with his pal Mickey's younger sister, so he'd seen you around quite a bit. Smart and funny and pretty; maybe not as unpopular as Eddie was, but certainly not in the running for homecoming court or whatever other social hierarchies were in place at Hawkins High either. He figured...you know, maybe once he got to senior year he'd get the courage. Maybe take you to prom or something; who wouldn't want to go out with a senior?

But he'd gotten the notice from Higgins that he wouldn't be graduating with the rest of the Class of '84 and it really put a damper on his plans.

He had been hopeful again the following year, actually had a few classes with you and sat with you for partner work when no one else wanted to work with him, when they laughed at him. You weren't even afraid to go up to him in the cafeteria to ask a question, or walk with him in the hall if you had to go in the same direction for your next class. You'd talk about assignments mostly, but he savored every little fact he could learn about you. What books you'd been reading, the fact that you watched Svengoolie on Saturday nights—just like he did—or that you'd had some squabble with Mickey's sister over a scrunchie of all things and were no longer speaking.

But Eddie knew how bad his grades were—somehow even worse than the year before—and aside from the work you did with him, he knew it wasn't gonna be enough for him to graduate. So he wasn't gonna put himself in the position for you to laugh in his face—not that you would but...just in case you did—by asking you out.

He thought you would disappear from his life after you graduated. Get the hell out of Hawkins the way everyone else wanted to. But no. You took a few classes at the community college and worked the dinner shift at Benny's a few nights a week. You'd been there every Tuesday night, when he and the guys grabbed food after their gig at the Hideout. The usual booth reserved, drinks already poured by the time they sat down, and their usual orders already written in your little order pad.

You usually gave him extra whipped cream on his slice of cherry pie too.

The guys always urged him to ask for your number...but he never did. How could he? Even if you were stuck in this town the same way he was...he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

And now...here you were, listening to Harrington talk about some great surprise he had planned for your third date the next day.

Eddie wondered why you hadn't screamed in outrage when Steve mentioned how much Nancy Wheeler had liked it when he took her to this mystery place. He would have definitely expected you to at least flinch at the mention of his ex-girlfriend's name.

"It sounds really great," you said instead, smiling and nodding. "I get out of class at 3 on Fridays...should I be here around 4?"

"4 is perfect, honey," Steve grinned.

Eddie couldn't stand to hear whatever sickeningly sweet goodbye you both would come up with so he just grabbed whatever tape was in front of him and approached the counter. You and Steve both flinched when Eddie slammed his selections down on the counter to be checked out.

“Uh…I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye Steve,” you muttered, eyeing Eddie with a half-smile that felt a bit sad. “Bye Eddie.”

"Bye honey."

“Bye honey,” Eddie mocked once you were out the door, then turned back to Steve. “You gonna try and make goo goo eyes at me next Harrington? I don’t have all day.”

“Jesus Munson. What’s up your ass?” Steve scoffed, grabbing the tapes.

“I’m just trying to get my videos and go.” Eddie rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Not really interested in the kind of customer service you're trying to provide."

Steve wondered what the likelihood of getting fired would be, if he just punched that smug look right off of Munson's face.

Keith hated the guy too, he always left the Adult section looking like a mess. Maybe Steve would get a promotion instead.

For years Eddie roamed around Hawkins being a general menace with his gaggle of friends. Causing trouble, shouting at people, making faces at old ladies. He’d gotten “taken in” to the police station one too many times but always seemed to make it out without actually being arrested. Which baffled Steve; Eddie was a drug dealer for crying out loud.

And yeah, Steve had even asked him to come and deal at a party or two but…people like that were bad. Simple as that.

Even after all of that, after you got past the “bad boy” persona….he was a fucking nerd. He wasn’t even cool like the bad boys in movies were. Steve felt like someone was tricking him the first time he had walked past the Hellfire Club’s table in the cafeteria. For all the leather and chains and band tees—all the talk of satanic rituals and blood sacrifices—there was sure a lot of talk about elves and…and bards and Star Wars.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Steve that the kids would flock to Eddie by the time they made it to Hawkins High.

But it had been. A huge shock.

His unexpected little gaggle of morons…weren’t really his anymore.

Steve had dropped Dustin off on the first day of school and said “don’t get into any trouble.” Even made Robin promise to keep an eye out for him. He expected the kid to…join the mathletes or something. Get roped in with the science nerds.

But by the end of the week, the kids were all clamoring about how they would need to reschedule movie nights with Steve so they could go to Hellfire club with Eddie.

Steve couldn’t understand it. Eddie was a freak, a punk, some good for nothing…and now the kids were suddenly following him like he was some sort of prophet. Spreading the word of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

See? Steve could do the nerd talk too when he wanted...thanks to Dustin.

Who, much to Steve's annoyance, was apparently Eddie's biggest fan. The guy could do no wrong in Dustin's eyes, and it really irked Steve.

Will and Lucas were spending Saturdays at the library—not for homework, but for research because apparently Eddie really liked incorporating mythology into his campaigns. (Whatever that meant.) Mike was growing his hair out because "Eddie's hair was cool.” What about Steve, whose literal nickname was The Hair? Shit, he'd even seen Eddie give Max a ride to school on a few occasions when he was late dropping Robin off. And he knew Max and her mom had been having a hard time since her step-dad skipped town and Billy...

Steve knew some of the town gossip about Eddie was just a bunch of bullshit...but if Max Mayfield was cool with him?

Yeah, he just couldn't help but be suspicious of the guy.

Regardless, the sooner Steve could get him out of the store, the better his night was gonna get.

...actually...

"That's gonna be $10." Steve announced dryly.

"Woah, $10?!" Eddie scoffed. "I have a membership."

"Since when?" Steve asked, hands immediately landing on his hips.

"I use one every time I'm in here."

"Yeah you use Reefer Rick's."

"So?"

"New policy," Steve lied, hoping it would get Eddie out of his hair for a good while. "No sharing memberships outside of your family. Last I checked, your last name isn't Lipton. So you either cough up the $25 for a new membership Munson, or the $10 for your rental. What's it gonna be?"

Eddie grumbled and dug his wallet out of his pocket, slamming the money on the counter.

"Any candy?" Steve asked mockingly before grabbing the cash.

Eddie grabbed the tape and grumbled under his breath as he exited the store.

Yeah, Steve wasn't gonna be dealing with him any time soon.

For a second though, as he went to start processing returns, he wondered...

If Eddie was in some ritualistic cult...what kind of curse could he possibly put on me?

But that was a dumb thought to have.

Eddie's night just went down hill from the minute he left Family Video.

He didn't notice that they'd given him the wrong pizza at Lou's so now he was stuck with some specialty veggie pie with broccoli on it, the tape he had grabbed indiscriminately had been some artsy foreign romance crap, and just now he'd just spilled Dr. Pepper all over his Hellfire notebook.

"Fuck," he shouted as it spilled over the side of the coffee table and onto his sock-clad feet. He couldn't give a shit about the carpet, he could even ignore his wet socks, but his notebook. Weeks of work, planning and toiling over the most sadistic campaign.

He liked to keep all of the notes of Hellfire's completed campaigns, a sort of...record for future kids to look back on and reference. And now this specific masterpiece would be lost to memory.

He cleaned everything up as best he could before making a quick trip back to his room for an extra notebook or something he could use to salvage his plans for tomorrow's session. He had always been really bad at...keeping spare notebooks on hand. Even the ones he'd used for class always ended up covered in his drawings or notes, little bits and ideas of dialogue he could use for speeches or NPCs.

The best he could find was his math notebook from last year which, surprisingly, sat relatively untouched.

Eddie knew why: that was a class he shared with you. And as he opened to some random mostly-empty page, he saw his little scribbles in the margins surrounding half-faded, penciled-in algebraic equations. Daggers and hearts and his and your initials intertwined together.

It was the one class where he would never encounter partner work with you, so he felt compelled to fill the pages with his daydreams instead of fantasies and lore. You would never see it.

"Well," he huffed as he dropped back down onto the floor and slapped the notebook onto the coffee table. He grabbed his pen and scribbled over the drawings on the page. "Now that she's with Harrington, no use living in this fantasy. Fuck, I was stupid, so stupid to ever think she would want anything to do with me."

He grabbed the dusty old alchemical book from the library and found his place, staring at old sigils and runes and text indiscriminately until he came upon one that looked too perfect for the campaign. Concentric circles, arcane lettering, angular lines...

While Eddie would usually use a clean page for something like this—something he would hand off to his players—he drew a copy of the sigil onto the page and planned to rip the edges off, maybe singe them with his lighter to make it look more authentic.

He kept staring at the still-noticeable doodles beneath the pen scribbles and his heart ached a little in his chest.

Yeah, he would definitely want to burn those too.

By the time he was done copying the sigil, a wave of exhaustion overtook him and he glanced down at his watch.

It wasn't much later than he usually went to bed on a weeknight...

He stared at the half-ruined notes for tomorrow's session that he still needed to rewrite and sighed.

"Fuck it, I'll just redo them in the morning." He got up and stretched his arms over his head. "I can just sleep in tomorrow. Skip class. Show up for Hellfire. Who cares anymore.”

He put the rest of the pizza in the fridge for Wayne and then headed to bed, only to be plagued with dreams of scribbled out love hearts, movie theater candy, guitar solos, and big red gum.

When Eddie woke up the next morning, he felt...honestly felt like he was floating on a cloud. Every muscle in his body felt looser, yet somehow tighter at the same time. His skin felt tighter, like it wasn't right, like it didn't fit somehow, it was suffocating him.

He must have died but he wasn't quite sure if this was heaven or hell.

His eyes burned and blurred slightly as he opened them and what he saw was...unexpected.

Gone were the off-white walls, his posters, the piles of his crap, and that concerning patch of probably-mold in the corner of the ceiling. Instead there was a sturdy ceiling, plaid-papered walls, and matching curtains?

Eddie groaned and rolled over.

What the fuck was this place?

There was a slam of a door somewhere that practically shook the walls surrounding Eddie and as he sat up, he found himself only wearing...briefs? He didn't wear briefs.

This wasn’t his bed, wasn’t his room…wasn’t his… body?

He looked down at his chest, his arms, his hands…his fingers weren’t right, he didn’t have this many freckles and moles, he didn’t have…abs, if that’s what you could call the slight definition on his torso. Still it was more than his body had ever had. His skin…was itchy and mostly hairless.

Eddie reached up and touches his hair—shorter than he was used to, not curly…at all—then his face, as if that was any indicator to what he—

“A mirror!” He exclaimed. His voice…sounded familiar, but different. Fuck what kind of dream was this?

Because it had to be a dream right? It had to be. How else did he wake up in someone else’s body?

He pushed himself out of the bed, walking slightly off-cadence, which…yeah probably came with the territory of your brain needing to get used to a new body. Fuck…was his brain even his brain or did his mind just get transported what was happening?

Ugh it was too early to think about that.

Eddie slowly cracked the bedroom door open and peaked into the rest of the house. He spotted a bathroom just across the way, otherwise…shit, this place actually looked a little familiar. Where the fuck was he? Who the fuck was he?

He quickly crossed the landing into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He heaved a breath and leaned back against the door for a moment to calm himself; his hands were shaking and felt cold. Could he even feel his fingers? Nice to know the occasional nervousness that snuck up on him at his lowest moments hadn’t been left behind in his old body, that they’d followed him to this one.

His body…would it still be in his bed? What if he really had died and…had jumped into his new body? Was this reincarnation?

Fuck, if he was dead…Wayne would find him. Could he even…see his uncle again? How could he ever explain who he was?

Eddie felt the tears prick his eyes and his throat tighten and he slapped his face a few times.

“Come on man, come on,” he muttered. “It’s not that bad. It’s only…mildly awful. Fuck, ok. Just go, just look, just…rip it off like a bandaid.”

Eddie took a deep breath and nodded, then crossed the short distance to stand in front of the sink. He stared at his new feet, wiggled his new toes. You never…appreciated the toes you had until you have new ones.

That was awful and you’re an idiot. Just look.

Eddie closed his eyes again and turned his face up towards the mirror. He could do it. He would do it.

He opened his eyes.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

Steve woke up feeling like absolute shit. Everything ached—like he had pulled a muscle or something by sleeping crookedly—he had awful cottonmouth, and he had inhaled…some yarn or something because he woke up coughing and gagging until he got the intrusive strands out of his mouth.

“Gahh, shit, shit,” he said and scratched at his throat. He sounded hoarse. Ugh was he getting sick? He’d have to ask his mom to bring home some soup or something.

Could he call out of work? Shit he had to take Robin to school. She could walk today, he felt awful.

Steve blinked his eyes open and took in the unfamiliar popcorn ceiling with growing concern.

He looked around at the…piles of garbage and the cracks in the plaster walls partially covered by band posters...and felt the rise of panic grow within him. He tried to recall the night before.

He’d wrapped up his shift at Family Video, gone home and had a rare dinner with both of his parents, then…felt extremely tired and went to bed.

So how did he end up here…wherever here was?

This was a kidnapping; it had to be. He was…drugged—explained the cottonmouth—and kidnapped. And now someone was holding him for ransom or something to…blackmail his father? Thomas Harrington was kind of a dick sometimes, sure, but still…he was a pretty decent guy. Who would want to blackmail him?

“H-hello?” Steve called out. “Anyone there? C-can anyone hear me?”

There was some shuffling outside of the door of the room.

Thankfully Steve wasn’t tied up or anything. God, what kind of kidnappers were these? He quickly glanced around the room for a weapon of some sort and he immediately spotted...

A guitar? A few guitars actually. Man these kidnappers really liked music huh?

One was a weird shape--he'd seen some hair metal bands use guitars like that in magazines, but he'd never seen one in person--and was a mottled red color. One was just what you'd expect when someone said "electric guitar." And one was acoustic and looked like it could pack a real wallop.

Bingo.

Steve pushed himself out of the bed and immediately jumped because whatever had been in his mouth was on his shoulders now. He reached up to grab it: hair. Long, wavy, messy...knotty and frizzy. Like it hadn't been brushed for days, maybe weeks?

And his arm, sticking out from whatever t-shirt he'd been put in...was lithe and weak and there were tattoos. On both arms. A creepy claw hand and a bunch of bats.

What was this? How long had they held him hostage for? No wonder they didn't feel the need to tie him up! He'd been knocked out cold.

He needed to get out of here. Now. He needed to get home.

Steve crossed the room to grab the guitar when he noticed it. At first he thought it was another person. But no, it was just a mirror...and in the mirror...his reflection.

Only it wasn't...his reflection.

It had startled him and he had jumped. Then he moved his arms a little and watched the figure in the mirror mimic him. Over and over.

A wave, a turn, a funny face.

He couldn’t believe it. This had to be a joke. A dream. A nightmare.

Because it was him, his reflection. But it was not his—Steve Harrington’s—reflection.

It was Eddie Munson's.

[forteafy]

Constellation of Three | DR3 [1 of 10]

Summary: Some things have been written in the stars before the beginning of time. Daniel Ricciardo having a single mother as his neighbour has always been written into his narrative. He just didn't realise she would become the love of his life. Part 1 of 'Constellation of Three' series.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of Childbirth, but only briefly. Alphatauri Daniel!

An understanding many people have had for years is that the core events of your life are mapped out in the stars; whether it be your career, your future spouse or the friends you decide to hold close. 

Everything had been planned out so perfectly for you. You’d flew through your exams, landing on one of the most prestigious event planning companies in Europe. Business had been your forte, yet with that creative flair, events seemed to be your calling. After six months of working underneath a supervisor, you had been summoned by their superior to overtake their responsibilities, landing you a comfortable salary and a new residence. 

A new residence nestled in the streets of Monte Carlo. 

The company you worked for specialised in high-end events and were incredibly well known by the hotels and casinos of the luxury city. Events were a common occurrence and with the skillset you had obtained, they practically laid out the red carpet for your arrival. 

There was one star however, that glowed brighter than the others. One which in your mind had been the most unexpected of them all. 

Blaire had come into your life as the unexpected shooting star; one night on your third year of higher education with a man who had since disappeared out of your life, lead to the appearance of the sweet baby girl. You’d been lucky, going through the biggest stages with your mother by your side. The morning sickness, hours of labour. Everything made sense the moment that sweet girl had been placed into your arms. 

That was the silent promise; the promise you’d do everything in your power to give the girl everything she desired. 

You’d found that companies were a lot more lenient on children when their parents were as gifted as you; there had been more than one occasion where Blaire would make an appearance whilst on a zoom call or when meeting with clients to discuss their visions for events. She was a gorgeous young girl with big brown eyes that could melt even the iciest heart. 

She was your pride and joy. 

That didn’t mean she was the sweet angel described the entirety of the times. Blaire had a temper that could challenge the heat of the earth’s core, and that was seen no clearer than the Monday morning she was due to return to her pre-school. 

The summer break had done you both wonders; you’d been able to secure several jobs leaning into the autumn and wintertime as well as being responsible for organising the Metrepole’s summer gala; the praises you had received almost too overwhelming. Between all this, you’d managed to whisk your daughter to Paris for a week too. Her eyes in awe of the bright pink castle and Mickey Mouse ears as far as she could see. 

But now? Blaire was screeching, tears rolling down her cheeks as you took away her Minnie Mouse ornament for the fourth time. You weren’t being deliberately mean, the last time she had taken in something fragile to show her friends, it had come back in broken pieces and a meltdown from your little girl that was undesirable.

Almost as unwanted as the current one.  Almost. 

“Mama!” Blaire had screamed again, her hands trying to grasp for the ornament you had now placed on top of the fridge, well away from prying hands. “Mama! I want it!” 

“Baby.” You’d crouched down by now, holding eye contact with the young girl. It. had always been found to treat meltdowns like this with comfort. She was only three, she didn’t always understand about why some things could never go her way. “You need to listen. If you take it, it could get broken, and we can’t get another one, can we?”

Blaire’s screams turned into sniffles, her hand rubbing against her eyes before falling into your chest, snuffling into your skin. “I wanna show Masie.” She mumbled, entranced with the idea of her best friend seeing the statue she had been in awe of since their first day in Disneyland. 

You hesitated. “Why don’t you take your new plushie to show her? Then we can invite Masie for dinner this week and we can show her then, yes?” You tried to reason, tucking one of her baby hairs behind her ear; the braids you had done less than an hour ago were already beginning to unravel. 

It was like a switch had been flipped; Blaire shot out of the kitchen, diverting to her bedroom and came back a moment later with her new plushie, a grin now plastered on her face, red eyes already fading. You couldn’t help the smile on your own face, now seeing the girl ready to face the day. 

With shoes on and her cardigan around her shoulders, you opened the front door, ushering Blaire out first. Carefully, you closed the heavy latch, hearing the satisfying lock when twisting the keys. 

“You ready, baby?” You’d asked, waiting for a response or simply for the girl to begin babbling. When there was no response, you looked down, not seeing the girl by your side. Your blood ran cold for a second, only letting yourself breathe when you looked up, seeing the situation unfold in front of you.

Apartment 65, the one next door to you which had been empty since your arrival, was now seemingly occupied. At the front door, stood a man; dark curls, brown eyes, holding a large box cautiously. Next to him, stood Blaire, her plushie abandoned on the floor, and holding a cushion up towards the man. 

Blaire wasn’t afraid of much, especially not strangers. Whilst her mother was locking up their home, she’d seen the man struggling with his box, a cushion falling off the top of it whilst attempting to open door. She’d heroically seen her mother help so many people over the years, so why could she not do the same.

The girl had run over, dropping her plushie and instead picking up the cushion, holding it up towards the man in question. He’d grinned at the small child, heart melting by the interaction. After placing his own box down, letting it prop open the front door, he’d crouched down, taking the cushion from the small child.

“Thank you!” He’d grinned, placing the cushion on top of the box. He held his hand out to the young girl, smiling as she placed her hand in his, shaking it gently. “I’m Daniel. What’s your name?”

“I’m Blaire!” She had told him instantly, before looking back up the corridor. “And that’s Mama!” She had pointed towards you, seeing your figure come down the corridor, a visible look of relief on your face. 

The man stood back up, watching as Blaire walked back over to you, taking your hand in her own, smiling at her mother. You couldn’t bring yourself in that moment to tell her off, understanding she had only wanted to help somebody in need. 

“Did you make a new friend, baby?” You asked, looking back up to the man in question. Seeing him closer had made your heart flutter; his eyes were a rich colour, curls littering the top of his face. His smile was truly to die for, you were almost certain you’d never seen one like it before. 

“Sorry.” You continued, eyes finally meeting with his own. “I think she was only trying to help, right Blaire?” You ask, looking back down to the young girl. She nodded in response, looking back over to the man in front of them both. 

“This is Daniel!” She explained to her mother, Daniel himself smiling at the two. You nodded in understanding.

“Ahh. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Daniel.” You grinned, telling him your own name in that moment. 

“It’s nice to meet you too!” He responded. “You’re my neighbours then?”

“We are.” You looked back towards your own front door, nodding towards the next apartment down. “This place has been empty since I got here, we’ll be happy of the company, won’t we, Blaire?” The young girl nods, eyes wide at the prospect of a new friend. 

“Can I show Daniel my statue?” She asks, tugging your hand gently. You can’t help but laugh; less than a few moments in and she’s already wanting to show off her shiny new piece. 

“Maybe later, baby. We need to get to school, yeah?” You remind her, seeing her face soften and nod. 

“I’ll come and see it soon, yeah?” Daniel confirms. The man knew how younger children could be. His own niece and nephew could be the exact same. However, even the slight thought of them right now was enough to make the lump in his throat appear. 

Since his return to Alphatauri had been announced, the driver had been adamant on making the more positive choices in his life. He’d been given his new opportunity. Something out there, out in the stars had this lined up for him. 

The man had moved back into Monaco, determined to make a fresh start. Heck, he’d even bought himself a new camera in order to restart his .jpg account during his new adventure. However, it had meant after six months of practically living alongside his family back in Perth, he had to say goodbye. Saying farewell to his mother had been bad enough; feeling his niece and nephew hug him for the last time had been even worse. 

Daniel had to take a breath to stop the tears pooling in his eyes. Instead, he turns his attention back to the two figures in front of him, his ears registering as the young girl began to talk again. 

“See you later, Daniel!” Blaire is quick to wave goodbye, one hand still firmly attached to her mothers. You had nodded to the man, before letting Blaire lead you towards the elevator, running to press the buttons that glowed in the darkened lift. 

The man can’t help but watch as the two of you walk away, mesmerised by the interaction which had just unfolded. When moving into this complex, he had only been told the basics; there was a swimming pool downstairs, a gym if anything was needed, a concierge service for any parcels or presents.

He wished to the stars that somebody had told him of his neighbours; a beautiful woman with the most adorable toddler alongside her. 

When first seeing you, your youthful appearance and considerably shorter height than him, he was almost convinced you were Blaire’s sister; he had been taken aback when the young girl had announced yourself as her mother. His heart softened, almost convinced that you must have been taken then. There was no way a woman as beautiful as yourself could be single. 

His eyes during the short interaction had darted down, seeing the lack of rings on your left hand. However, that meant nothing. You weren’t married, nor engaged, but surely you must have at least had a significant other? 

The questions flittered through his head as he crouched down to pick up the box once again. This was the last one; he’d been lugging his belongings through the building since 8am and had only realised once he’d finished that the apartment was lacking in some furniture. 

Monaco was known for luxury, but there was nothing like a quick trip to IKEA on a quiet afternoon, right? 

His train of thoughts were disrupted by an item discarded by his front door. There, lied a Minnie Mouse plushie, one he then and there deduced must have been left by the young girl. Daniel murmured a word to himself, picking up the teddy and looking towards the elevator. His eyes then darted towards the staircase, huffing as he left the box inside his apartment, made sure the key was nestled in his pocket, before running towards the stairs, adamant to meet you both at the bottom. 

The plushie at this present moment, was the last thing on Blaire’s mind as she had continuously begun to ramble to you about her new friend, Daniel. 

“Can we invite Daniel for dinner, mama?” She had asked you, already in awe of the gentleman next door. You had smiled gently at her newfound awe, secretly glad that their new neighbour seemed as if he could handle a toddler’s meltdown in the forthcoming future. 

“I’m sure we can, sweetheart.” You confirmed, seeing that the elevator was about to land on the ground floor. You straightened up, ready to walk straight from the lobby towards your car. However, as the door opened, you saw a figure standing in the walkway.

Daniel. Holding your daughter’s plushie. 

“Sorry- “he started, moving out of the way of you both, keeping the plush in his grasp for a moment. “You forgot this. I didn’t want her to lose it!” He explains, holding out the teddy towards Blaire. Your daughters’ eyes widen upon realising that this man, her saviour, had now rescued her teddy, holding the toy close to her chest. 

Your own cheeks turned red upon the realisation of how that looked; you’d forgotten to check for your child’s toy. Daniel had been your saviour in that moment too; god knows the kind of reaction you would have had if you had made it to school with the lack of that toy. 

“Thank you- so much.” You sigh, relief visually flooding your own body. Daniel can see this, nodding and resting a hand on your shoulder. 

“My niece used to leave her barbies everywhere.” He explains, trying to make you feel better whilst Blaire held the toy to her chest, happy with the reunion. “I remember when we had to search the entire beach for her surfing Barbie.” Daniel can’t help but grin at the memory, seeing his family frantic in finding the godforsaken doll. 

“Oh god-“ You laugh, beginning to walk towards the centre of the lobby, leading you towards the private car park. “I can only imagine. We’ve had that a few times. Blaire is a criminal for leaving her toys at the office.” She explains. You begin to tell Daniel the story of how the young girl had left her doll at your office during one of your meetings. You’d had to return to the building at 7pm that evening in order to retrieve the doll after frantically ripping your apartment apart, convinced it was there. 

“Well look.” He grins, walking in step alongside you. “If you ever need a toy hunting partner, I’m right next door.” The man reminds you. There’s no flirtation in his voice, in his mind, he simply wants to be nice to his new neighbour, whether the circumstances would change. 

“I’ll be holding you to that.” You grin. “Have a good day, Daniel.”

“You too.” He offers one final wave to the two girls as they make their way towards the car. He can’t help but smile, mesmerised by the interactions. 

Maybe this was something that had always been laid out in the stars, always awaiting him. 

[skxllz]

Jealous Ian and Mickey??

say no more

+

“ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲? ”

warnings; mickey being mickey. physical violence (typical shameless shit). ian with rings + getting arrested hehe. blood mention. I think that's it??

date posted; 12.9.23

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

usually, ian wasn't the type to get jealous. he had his moments in the past with mick’, with that fucker that had talked shit on ‘im at the bar. and maybe that angie girl... but that was a while ago. maybe even with svetlana, but of course that couldn't be helped. and maybe that one time when they first met you...

okay, maybe ian did get jealous. but that was besides the fact. he's never felt uncontrollable rage before when it's come to anyone other than mickey. the time mickey and svetlana married? he wasn't just heartbroken; he felt the need to actually kill terry and tell svetlana to fuck off in front of everyone, even though technically the circumstances weren't her fault. with you, he's never felt that — not since you started dating him and mickey.

it's funny really, for both of them. it was the moment ian realized he actually was in love with you — same for mickey. only, mick’ didn't realize until after the fact.

it started off with an actual date night between you three. ian told you that him and mickey planned one a while ago but it never sought through because some bitch named sammy got him arrested. you didn't know who the sammy chick was, and ian didn't explain who she was, but you mentally vowed that night to stick it to her. that's why you took them both out a week later, to some fancy restaurant on the west side.

mickey complained about a few things on the way there; the fact that he had to wear a tux, the way it fit him, and that the west side was the last damn place he wanted to be. he claimed it was where the ‘ rich bitches with those stupid nose bandaids ’ live and he wanted no part of that parade. you reassured him though that those noses of theirs would end up bleeding if they gave him the slightest problem.

to say the least, you gave him a boner and a good convincing.

after you arrived at the destination, you had watched while entering the restaurant as the two males gawked at the scenery of the place. it made ian question you just how you were going to afford everything —in which you laughed and just replied with “ don't worry, i’ ”— and mickey mutter under his breath just how much the golden posts by the doorway would go for on ebay. you swatted him on the shoulder since you heard ‘im.

you guys’ little trio was escorted generously to a nice window booth at the back of the restaurant, giving a nice view of the back patio where a fountain and little glowy fairy lights were displayed; giving off a familiar, comfortable feel. and, although you felt as ease, you could mickey still did not by the way he was tugging at different ends of his suit and scooting around in his seat.

“ mick- y’okay? ” ian asked, giving a puzzled questionable expression. the red head had been reading over the drinks menu when he noticed his boyfriend acting out of place.

“ this place gives me the fucking quivers... ” mickey muttered, once again shifting. “ I feel like ‘m bein’ stared at. ”

ian snorted at that. usually mickey didn't let shit get to him - especially people, at that. if there a problem, he'd sort it out himself, so why was he acting off now. “ why's that bothering you? ”

you were now looking at mickey as well, expecting him to answer as you raised your brows curiously. you too wanted to know why he was acting differently.

“ because, ” he sighed in frustration, only then leaning across to table to harshly whisper to Ian, while sparing you a slight glance. “ because I rather not fuckin’ ruin this night for y/n, okay? jesus christ. ”

ian's lips formed an o shape in realization. you were more sensitive than they were, so he could understand why mickey felt that way — didn't want to embarrass you or anything. if that happened, who knows how long of a grudge you'd hold.

mickey sat himself back just as a waiter approached. he was tucking in his finely pressed, button down shirt into his apron, not necessarily paying attention to his surroundings as he dropped a pen from his pocket. y/n realized — and, the good samaritan he was, he scooted out from the booth to crouch down and pick it up.

“ uh- here, ” he stood, pushing his hand out towards the waiter. “ you dropped this. ”

“ oh, ” the waiter extended a hand to take his writing tool back. and, as he did so, lifted his head, “ thank you- y/n? ”

“ blake? ” y/n asked, surprise on his face. “ holy shit. ”

that right there is when the first wave of jealousy struck in the night. the look of realization on both of their faces made Ian and mickey exchange glances — and, although ian felt a twist in his stomach, he wasn't exactly indifferent about the reunion just yet. mickey was, though. he looked sour.

and he was right to. throughout the remainder of the hours there, their waiter, blake, would always give you a smile that was always more than just a smile. he'd stop by more often than meant to, as well. asking for refills when it wasn't necessary, stopping by seconds later thinking he forgot a plate when in reality there was none to take. it pissed your boyfriends off - mickey especially.

the brunette had to withhold standing up and violating the guy where he stands. in mickey's mind, he wishes, wishes, that his stare alone could make this blake motherfucker burst into flames. it'd make his year. probably ian's too, because mick’ knew for a fact that his ginger companion was ready to blow the minute blake stopped by to give you the check.

ian's fingers were death-gripping his fork and his jaw was set. eyes pointed towards the table... and you were oblivious to it - cause you were too busy smiling at him.

“ say- ” blake spoke as he handed off the little black booklet to you, “ since it's been awhile, I was just wondering, would you like to hang out sometime? ”

mickey's head snapped up then. “ the fuck? ” he finally broke for the night. he's had enough. “ no- no, he won't like to fucking hang out sometime, ” mickey mocked, looking absolutely fed up. “ are you fucking nuts? you got some cotton in your damn brain- low iq? ”

the look on blake's face was priceless. his eyes were wide, jaw was dropped open. the hand that had stretched out to take the check back, paused midair. even you were looking at mickey like he was bat shit insane.

which, he probably was. but honestly, what do you expect with dating a milkovich?

“ you need to fucking scram before I pop your head off’a your body like a fucking cork. ” mick’ spat finally - and that was the straw that left the drink empty. you heard enough, scooting closer to mickey to calm him down.

“ mick- ”

“ who the hell are you talking to? ” blake's response made you whip your head around in his direction, eyes as wide as golf balls. was this kid crazy?

mickey looked at ian, who was already looking at him, ready to murder someone, before steering his eyes back onto the blonde male. “ I think I'm fuckin’ talkin’ to you- now y/n, sweetheart, move so I can kill this fucking rat. ”

by now, everyone around was staring. low, hushed voices whispering to one another, other waiters and waitresses watching the scene go down with saucer-bound eyes. a few folks had their phones out, recording, while others were on the phone with police.

“ I'm not moving. ” you sternly spoke, looking mickey in the eye so he knew you meant business. “ you promised you wouldn't make a scene tonight yet here you are, doing exactly that. ”

arms dramatically launched out of gesture to the blonde waiter, “ he was clearly hitting on you! ” mickey emphasized, making sure to get in through your head that you were being blind. you were. “ he wants in your fucking pants! ”

“ he does not want in my pants! ”

“ yes he fucking does! ”

“ stop swearing at me! ”

“ oh fuck off, get a grip! ”

you both were too busy arguing to notice that ian had gotten up from the table and approached blake. it wasn't until you heard gasps around you and a loud “ fuck! ” come from said blonde, followed by a thud, did you and mickey raise your heads.

ian was shaking off his hand with a blank mask of anger while blake lied on the floor, clutching his nose. blood gushed out through the cracks of his fingers, the red liquid flowing down and hitting the dark flooring of the restaurant.

people around looked frightened; staring at ian in horror, as if he was a monster. it was dramatic really.

a few of blake's coworkers rushed to his aid while ian walked back over to you both. his fist was raw and red, and his knuckles were slightly split open, but it wasn't too bad besides that.

“ holy shit... ” mickey breathed out, eyeing blake's bloody face from over your shoulder as he was stood to his feet. he was wobbly, wincing, trying not to shout as someone bumped him. it looked as if ian broke his nose. “ holy shit. ”

“ ian! ” you hissed, “ what the fuck! ”

ian shrugged, “ he got what was coming to him. he shouldn't hit on what isn't his. ”

you blinked lazily. shoulders slumping, breathing coming out in realization. “ but... I'm yours? ”

mickey scoffed and slipped his arm around your shoulders. “ are you insane? of course your ours, y/n. I wouldn't bite someone's fucking dick off for you if you weren't. ”

ian nodded towards mickey, “ what he said. I wouldn't just punch anyone. the dick deserved it. ”

you were silent for a moment, processing the emotions you felt. even though the gossip around you was annoying, you weren't necessarily mad at your boyfriends. moreso, you were just annoyed because the rest of the date was ruined. sure, you had dinner, but you wanted to do much more.

of course though, you couldn't, because the cops ran through the entrance seconds later.

“ he's over there! ” you saw the hostess point towards your red haired companion. ian swore under his breath, only to turn on his heel and book it in the opposite direction.

“ run, i’! ” you scream, looking worried.

“ fucking run like hell, ian! ” mickey looked worried too, surprisingly. I mean, it was his boyfriend, but usually he wouldn't let his emotions get the best of him cause of his pride. but here we are.

the night ended off with ian getting put into cuffs and walked out to the cop car. You and mickey both promised to bail him out somehow, and that you'd explain everything to his siblings.

“ oh- hey, y/n? ” ian called, just as the officer was shoving him into the vehicle.

“ yeah? ” you call back.

“ I love you! ”

your heart damn near skipped a beat. chest fell as you lost breath, a smile of joy spreading across your face. with happiness now in your heart, you lifted your hand, waving him goodbye.

that's when mickey suddenly pulled you by the arm, ripping a gasp from you, and kissed your temple.

“ I love you too, weasel. ”

[ashetherando]

Disney Adult| FizzOzzie Poly x reader (and separate)

my sorry ass have been looking at Disney World stuff and as a Disney Adult I’m surprised I haven’t made this before! pronouns: They/Them/Theirs

Key words:

(y/n)-Your Name

(l/n)-Last Name

(POLY FIZZOZZIE )

They don’t really care of what you’re into, as long you don’t be stupid or harassing imps/demons they don’t care. They will in fact have a whiplash of Disney merchandise you own at your home with the Minnie/Mickey ears and clothes, PJs, and cups! They will be shitty boyfriends if they shit all over your interest while you don’t. If you’re going to Disney World/Land, you’re their guide! Teach them about Genie Plus, teach them about the Disney World app, cuz they’re helpless without your Disney eyes! Also, let them pick their magic bands there so much designs and their brains cannot handle it! Also, quick thing, give fizz a kid leash. You’ll be walking around in Animal Kingdom with Ozzie planning what he wants to eat, then POOF Fizz somehow learned to park hop and is now at Magic Kingdom at Peter Pans Flight!

💙OZZIE/ASMODEUS💙

Ozzie believes that Disney can be dark, for example Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Black Caldron, and basically he’s more into the Disney Renaissance than the present day movies at the Disney franchise. He will not be surprised when he comes over to your home and you hand him over Disney PJs, he doesn’t care about how much Disney merchandise your house can handle, as long you’re not blowing off all your money for a Disney figure ‘cuz you still need to pay bills and rent! But! When you ask what he wants at Disney World, he asked “coffee” as a joke, but when you came back from your trip and before you clock in “here ya go, Asmodeus!” You said as you held up the bag with the word Joffrey’s printed on it “I wasn’t so sure what you wanted so I kinda just guessed!” He tilted his head to the side as you place the bag on his desk, he opened the bag and see two bags of coffee grounds one is a flavorful coffee ground and the other is just plan coffee grounds “I wasn’t expecting you to get me this” he grabbed a bag and analyzing it “do you not want it?” “No! I want it, I really do need some coffee grounds, I just never thought that Disney have these type of things” “well, it’s a huge company! Of course they’re gonna have coffee!” “That’s fair” he placed the bag down and bring up the flavor on, it’s was obviously bought at the Polynesian resort exclusive. “Thank you, (y/n)”

When you finally convinced him to go with you while being part of the Disney Vacation Club, you have to treat him by bringing him to Food and Wine festival. He’s quite interested by the new wine they give out every year than the food. Keep an eye on him, we don’t know his drink tolerance is, he might get drunk at Epcot!

💚FIZZAROLLI💙

Fizzarolli is a guy to be like “haha! Imagine liking a company for babies” just deal with it, he’s gonna be a prick about your hyper fixations, but he’s doing it for jokes and will let you know about that. He only watches whatever is on TV, if you and him are chilling in your home. Just stream something on Disney Plus, then he’ll watch it with you. Here’s my advice: Have a Disney Marathon and he’ll won’t even notice! I’m kidding he will once it’s 1am and you’re watching Tangled, then he’ll be like “Old Disney is better” then he’ll leave the room. If you’re watching more present Disney movie, he’ll yell it from the hallway “Old Disney is better!” He may be your boyfriend, but he’s such a bad influence on you, when Ozzie is good with money and help you with your impulsive spendings, Fizz encourages you to buy that. You will send him a picture of a new Disney pin collection through text “oh look how cute they are!” “Get it” “fizz, I have rent that is due” “idc, get the pins” “you don’t even know the characters!” “I know the blue fur ball!” “Don’t call stitch a fur ball” “why did you send me this anyways!?” “….the pins will be here on Tuesday next week” “knew it” Disney World will be an episode and a half, homie will be in a different park quicker before you say Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious so please give him a kid leash before he does it again, but convincing him took so long! You have to show him some videos, nothing too intimidating since he’s a Disney Virgin, just simplify your vacation visit, but not for clothing wear, the Greed Ring is hot, and you two will be sweating allot, which means chafing! Biker shorts are your whore! Treat him with any festival and he’ll be happy! If it’s the Food and Wine, he’ll will eat any food or drink any wine, but let’s be happy that you brought him!

[sgtmickeyslaughter]

#17 or #89 :)

this one was more fun than i thought it would be, I wanted Ian to cuss her out real housewives style, but i think he's learning to take the highroad

89. You’re not interested, are you? X 17. Good thing I didn’t ask for you opinion

Ian kept meeting up with Jill after they met for the first time at the pool, even though it seemed like her husband was steering clear of them after Mickey’s chair situation.

That was a couple weeks ago now, Mickey had chilled out slightly. After deciding that they would stay in the apartment he’d pulled out the wedding notebook, much to Ian’s horror, and switched the wedding magazines out for interior decoration. He was upstairs painting one of their bedroom walls as they sat out by the pool and Ian decompressed from the experience of picking paint with him. 

If Ian was being entirely honest, Jill bugged the shit out of him. After getting his number, she was texting him to hang out all the time, and Ian didn’t know how to tell her no, even as it became clear they had nothing in common. The surest way he’d figured out to get her to fuck off was to say that Mickey would be coming, which usually got their plans canceled in about five minutes flat. 

“What do you think of him?” Jill asked conspiratorially from her pool lounger.

“Who?” Ian asked, lifting his head up.

“Trey?” Jill said, like it was obvious. 

Ian followed her gaze and finally saw the blonde guy from earlier getting out go the pool. It only took about 30 seconds of talking to him at the gym to realize he was a fucking asshole. 

Still, Ian wasn’t going to tell her that. “He’s fine,” he responded noncommittally.

“You mean he’s fine” she laughed suggestively. “He just broke up with his ex-boyfriend Kris before you moved in, I could introduce you two properly if you want.”

“Thanks, but we’ve actually already met.”

“And you’re not interested, are you?” Jill asked disappointedly.

“I’m married,” Ian said confusedly. “You remember my husband, Mickey? He’s kind of hard to forget.”

“Obviously I remember your husband” Jill huffed out. “It’s just that- Ian, can I be frank with you?”

“Be my guest,” Ian responded, rolling his eyes. 

“Just because we fall in love with someone while we’re stuck in” Jill held her breath as she searched for the right words, explaining to Ian like he was a child “a less than ideal place in life, doesn’t mean we need to stay with them forever. Your husband - Mickey, clearly doesn’t belong here and you do! Sorry but that’s just my opinion.”

“Well, Jill, it’s a good thing I didn't ask for your opinion” Ian said sarcastically. “In my opinion it’s weird that you want to spend every day with your new gay best friend and check out guys at the pool instead of hanging out with your husband, which is what I would rather be doing, by the way.”

Ian stood up and put his shirt back on, “and, if I belong here, then Mickey belongs here. Because I belong wherever the hell he is, and if you bothered to try to find someone you feel that way about instead of eyeing anyone who’s only personality is their six pack you might realize that love is all about finding someone you love at every place in life.”

He fumed all the way up to their apartment until he burst into their bedroom, where Mickey was shirtless, blasting music and methodically painting the wall a rich, royal blue. All the fight left Ian’s body as he appreciated the way the blue complimented the cool tones in Mickey’s hair and skin. 

Instead of whipping him around and working all his anger out right there on the bedroom floor he slowly made his way over to the window and opened it, letting out some of the paint fumes. Mickey was working hard to make sure their bedroom was nice, so Ian could at least let him finish before they addressed his pent up energy. He lowered the music and collapsed on their air matress in the middle of the room, grabbing his book from the floor. 

“What are you doing back so early?” Mickey said, in lieu of greeting. “I thought Miss Priss was stealing you away all afternoon.”

“Fuck her” Ian said with a grin, knowing Mickey would be thrilled to hear him say it. “I wanted to come up here and watch you instead, so get to work.”

hope you liked it!

Prompt game fun!

[ashdreams2023]

Hey, how are you doing? Do you think you could do some headcanons of Loki about how would his morning routine and night routine be like with a Reader, from already thank you very much!

I’m good honey and of course!

Everyday routine with Loki

He’s not an early bird like Thor but he also doesn’t oversleep, so he wakes up around 8:30 or 9:00 early enough to have breakfast

Takes around 30 minutes in the bathroom to freshen up and apply his skincare because let’s be real he cares

I feel like it depends if you’re one to make breakfast then he would make the table if he’s the one making breakfast you’re kinda just standing there looking pretty

Not the biggest talker in the morning but when he has his tea he starts asking you about your plans for the day

Usually stays in his pjs until like 11 then takes a nice bath and changes to his outside clothes

If you two have plans together he makes sure you’re ready on time, because he doesn’t like being late to things

Likes going on walks in the park with you, also pets every cat he encounters

You have a rule whenever you’re out he pays, no matter what

You may pay for takeout at home but outside you better sit your pretty ass done and enjoy the spoiling

If you have a job, he spends most of the day reading and taking care of his plants, but there is many occasions where you would come home to angry neighbors

He acts all innocent every time too

"You can’t just blow up the neighbors pool!"

"She was using a rude tone with me!"

You two cuddle after you come home from work and it’s his favorite time of the day

Lunch is late most days and sometimes you two just snack away until dinner

By evening he’s back to his comfortable pjs, also he wears those fluffy Cookie Monster slippers around the house

If he goes and does errands know that you will come back home to something new and unnecessarily bought 

And somehow he always has space for this stuff

"I can’t do this anymore!"

"Oh come on! It was on sale too"

"We don’t need a waffle maker!"

"But it has Mickey Mouse on it!"

Honestly you just give up, at least he uses them

After dinner and long conversations about your day he cleans up and reads a little more then finds something else to busy himself with until bed time

He sleeps on the left side of the bed and always cold so he’s always reaching for you during the night for warmth