#we were all just sort of messing around I guess

[vigilantejustice]

incomprehensible goop under the cut

there’s this real weird time circa 2007 that exists in this black hole of a void in my mind in that it doesn’t exist as a solid tangible confirmable memory but does exist insofar as that there’s this deep understanding that something did happen. there’s probably a protective or safety mechanic in play in not remembering but boy it would clear some things up

[nope-body]

.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three 

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition. 

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place. 

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip. 

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck. 

 The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital. 

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten. 

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled. 

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but. 

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.) 

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen. 

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair. 

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants." 

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him. 

Would Harrington pitch a fit? 

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did? 

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper. 

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life? 

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it. 

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--" 

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out." 

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.  

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying. 

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness. 

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone." 

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box. 

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home. 

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope. 

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet. 

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand. 

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list. 

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that." 

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face. 

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him. 

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

 "You'll check up on Robin too, right?"  He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?" 

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years. 

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here. 

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder. 

Several somethings, in fact. 

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck. 

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick. 

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie. 

An unfair advantage, really. 

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly. 

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie. 

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting. 

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie." 

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

 "What do you mean Si--Wayne." 

"Nice catch.”  Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.” 

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much. 

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither. 

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat." 

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked. 

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?" 

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret. 

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt." 

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle. 

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end." 

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink. 

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?" 

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when  he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be. 

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless. 

"Anybody else?" He asked. 

"Nobody human." Steve replied. 

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that. 

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?" 

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency,  I'd be happy to." 

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through. 

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation. 

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus.  "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER." 

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword  home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it. 

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair." 

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound. 

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble. 

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…" 

"You take any today son?" 

Steve his head. 

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack. 

Course he hadn't. 

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in. 

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once. 

[moonstruckme]

Could you please write an emt!marauders drabble with their girlfriend who is blind or that has temporarily lost her sight and them helping her move around the house because she often bumps into furniture and things like that. Just something fluffy with blind!reader pretty please??🥺

Thanks for requesting!

emt!marauders x visually impaired!reader ♡ 527 words

James comes home to find all the furniture in the wrong place and his two boyfriends fretting over your ankle. 

He drops his gym bag by the door, looking around bewilderedly. “Has there been a tornado I didn’t hear about?” 

“No,” Remus says, pressing gently around the circumference of your ankle with his fingers, “only Sirius.” 

“He wanted to rearrange the furniture,” you clarify. 

“Oh.” James nods slowly. “Why?” 

“Because variety is the spice of life, James,” Sirius snipes, no small amount of defensiveness in his tone. It earns him a weary look from Remus, and he quiets, taking your hand apologetically. “And also because I wasn’t expecting you back inside yet, dollface.” 

“It’s fine.” You cast a little smile in his direction. Then, wavering, “It is fine, isn’t it?” 

“I think so.” Remus sets your foot down. It’s promptly picked back up by Sirius, who presses a firm kiss to your ankle. “I think it’s only twisted, not sprained.” 

“I’ll get some ice,” Sirius volunteers. He hops up, eager to redeem himself. 

“So,” says James, sitting down on the edge of the couch, “what exactly happened?” 

Remus gives him an apologetic look. “The two of us were out back in the garden, when I guess Sirius was in here executing his home makeover. We came in for something to drink, and she went ahead of me and tripped over the coffee table because it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. Twisted her ankle a bit.” 

“Oh, poor lovie.” James leans down to kiss the top of your head. “If I make you a pillow tower, will you elevate your foot on it?” 

You hum, shrugging. “Sure.” James sets to work. 

“Found some peas for my sweetpea,” Sirius announces himself. He laughs when you and Remus groan. 

“I promise I’m not upset with you,” you say as he touches your ankle, a silent warning before setting the frozen peas on it, “but if you ever call me that again, you’ll wake up the next morning and all my things will be gone.” 

“I sort of like it,” James admits.

“Thank you, Jamie.” Sirius rewards him with a grin. James leans over to kiss his cheek. He gives his boyfriend’s face a tiny, affectionate squeeze, knowing what he puts himself through when he thinks he’s hurt someone he loves. Sirius is all levity, though, as he accepts the kiss smugly. “See, someone around here has some taste.” 

“Don’t think that means he’s going to help you rearrange the living room,” Remus warns. “You’re going to put this all back so it’s navigable again.” 

“Suppose that means I should go,” you say, starting to push up off the couch. 

Three pairs of hands move to stop you. 

“No, you’ve only just started icing your ankle,” Sirius chides. “Let it rest for a while before you go back out.” 

“Yeah,” James agrees. “Give us about twenty minutes of rest, and then I’ll help you find your way out of this labyrinth, okay?” He gives the layout of the furniture a long, critical look to tease Sirius. “No way you’re getting through this mess on your own. It’s complete madness.”

[erwinsvow]

what if… rafe ever hit shy reader from built up anger like more of an accident? we lowk need some rafe and shy reader angst😢

this kind of slayed me.. i feel like disclosure i do not condone abuse of any sort i just think shy reader would like getting slapped around and being really roughhoused..

but if rafe reallyyy got mad about it, it might be angsty. like if she really messed up and was apologizing a ton if he actually was mad at her her heart would stop. warning rafe is rlly mean in this

being a little whiney, a little too needy and maybe excessively touchy came easily to you as rafe's girlfriend. he was always coaxing you into being more comfortable with him, and you think you'd finally reached that point.

some of your shyer tendencies seemed to have finally abandoned you when it was just the two of you. and just like you had guessed, a smaller, more possessive side of you had recently emerged from the cocoon—wanting all of rafe's attention, all the time.

it wasn't good, maybe a small part of you knew that, but it was easy to play into it, and you liked how you felt these days, more comfortable in your skin and around rafe than you had been even just a month ago.

like today. you had been a little needy all day, not wanting rafe to leave when he said he needed to go to barry's for picking something up.

"ple-ease rafe," you said it a little singsongy, serious but not that serious. "don't go. i want you to stay." it was more just wanting to hang out with him than anything else—when he left, he was usually gone for ages, and things weren't that fun without him.

"i'll be back, kid. jus' stay here, got it?"

"but you said you would-"

"kid." the way he says it, you should have realized he wasn't in the mood for you to be behaving like this.

"yesterday you said you were free all day. and i get bored-"

"yesterday i didn't know i was doin' this shit. just, please. sit tight. i'll be back."

rafe goes, and though a part of you knows you shouldn't, you blow up his phone throughout the day. really, you're not even that bored—showering and getting ready for the day and then curling up with your book after you make rafe's bed, but you played a little too far into it.

when he comes back, you should have realized something was off—but you let everything else cloud your judgement. the way rafe is never mean to you (despite the stories you had heard), how he always reassures you that he's not mad and that you didn't do anything wrong. you were led to a false belief that nothing you could do would change how rafe acts towards you.

rafe comes to sit on the bed near your feet, and you lower your book to look at him, but don't say anything. when he turns to look at you, you bring the book back up so it looks like you weren't peeking.

"c'mon. y'mad now?"

"no."

"kid, i don't have time for this-"

"you didn't answer any of my texts! or calls. and i've just been waiting here all day-" you don't know what you want—attention, quality time, an apology. you just want something other than what you're getting.

"i told you i'd be back. had shit to take care of-"

"well, i just-"

"why're you actin' like this? huh?"

you think rafe's gonna ask you the things he always does—what's wrong? did someone say something? do i need go have a talk with 'em?

but he doesn't this time.

"spoiled your ass too much and now you wanna talk back? is that it?" you're so taken aback, you think all the air has left your lungs. did rafe really think that? he stands up, so you do too, facing rafe while he paces.

"no, i just-" you're being defensive, like always. you feel like crying—you thought rafe knew you better than that, but it's also not his fault. maybe you were acting too spoiled after all, and maybe despite what he always says, he preferred you how you were when you first started dating him.

"you think m'goin out there to paint nails and gossip with barry? we had shit to do. real shit, so i can take care of you. i thought you understood that."

when you start crying, you think rafe will stop—he always does, stopping to apologize and make sure you're okay.

"tears. great. i'm tryna explain this to you. are you gonna cry everytime i get serious? huh?" it comes out a little more like a bark than a sentence—now you're scared.

"i-i'm sorry," you get out, though it's strangled in a sob and sounds more like a whisper. you don't think he heard you, but your feelings are so hurt—the rush from thinking rafe would be happy to be back home with you crashing and burning quickly, the pit in your stomach that doesn't blame him—but rather blames yourself for your behavior.

you had gotten too comfortable, too pampered, thinking that acting like this was okay—briefly you think it's not rafe's fault at all for getting mad, that it's your own fault for this happening.

you think it's best if you leave, dejectedly heading towards the door, but the second he catches you trying to walk away, he rushes over, pushing you against the door before you can even open it. your back thuds against the frame.

"rafe, you're hurting me-" you cry out, but he seems to be lost in his own anger. "please-"

"didn't say you can leave. what the hell are you doin'? you tryin' to make me mad? huh?"

"rafe, m'sorry, i-"

"actin' like this 'cause you wanna get slapped around? is that it? y'like that too much, don't you? you want me to slap you around now?"

your heart feels like it's just stopped beating. the very idea that rafe would bring up something you had just gotten comfortable with liking, only recently convinced yourself—with his help—that it wasn't wrong or dirty to like those kinds of things with him—slapping and spanking and a whole host of other things you had never even talked about, much less actually done, with anyone other than rafe, in this situation, made fat tears slip down your cheeks.

your boyfriend didn't seem like himself right now. and you were so distraught, if you were a little more clear-headed you might realize his bloodshot, dilated eyes and shaky hands. your arm hurts from where he's holding you tightly.

"rafe, please-" you get out through tears, and he lets you go a little. you slide out of his grip and stay against the door, still crying. before you can even think about it, your cheek is stinging.

he does slap you—not in the light, playful way he does when it's just the two of you somewhere or in the slightly rougher manner reserved for bed—this one is harder, everything hurting.

after it happens, you look up at rafe through glassy eyes. your fingers go to your cheek, pressing down where it was painful, like it would help it go away. but you knew deep down nothing could ever erase this memory.

you look up at rafe and he looks down at you. when you try to turn to open the door, he presses down and slams it shut before you can get out.

[pucksandpower]

Hey Natalia, hope you’re doing good ❤️ Please could I request enemies to lovers with Max. You’re constantly at each other’s throats in front of everyone and Christian has had enough of your shit and demands to see you in the office. But when you continue to fight, he’s like nah I don’t wanna be involved, sort your shit out together and leaves. And you end up fucking on his desk and after you’re suddenly super friendly around eachother. Thank you lovely! xxx

Whiplash

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: You and Max discover that there is a thin line between lust and hate

Warnings: 18+ content

You storm into Christian’s office, scowling as Max follows right behind you. He slams the door shut and you both take a seat across from Christian, refusing to even look at each other.

“I’m sure you both know why I called you in here,” Christian says sternly. “The tension between you two has gone too far. It’s affecting the team and we can’t have that.”

You scoff and cross your arms. “Why don’t you talk to him about it then? I’m not the problem here.”

Max scowls. “Oh please, don’t pretend like you’re so innocent. You’ve been nothing but hostile towards me since the start of the season.”

“Only because you did the same!” You retort. “I was nothing but nice when I first joined the team. You’re the one with the attitude problem.”

“Enough!” Christian shouts, silencing you both. “I don’t care who started it. I’m ending it. We’re in the middle of a championship fight and I need my drivers to work together, not against each other.”

You sink lower in your chair, still refusing to look at Max. The animosity radiates off of him in waves.

“Now you’re going to stay in here until you work this out,” Christian says firmly. “I don’t care if it takes all night. Fix this mess or both of your seats are on the line.”

He heads for the door and you spring up from your chair. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” Christian replies before shutting the door. You hear the lock click into place from the outside.

You jiggle the handle and pound on the door. “Let us out!”

No response.

He’s really done it, that bastard. Locked you in a room alone with your most hated rival.

You take a deep breath before turning around. Max sits there glaring at you, jaw clenched. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters.

“For once we agree on something,” you snap.

His glare hardens. “Don’t pretend you’re blameless. You’ve been nasty since you got here.”

You storm over to him. “Because you decided to hate me from day one! I tried to be nice but you were so damn hostile. What’s your problem with me anyway?”

Max stands up abruptly, getting in your face. “My problem is you waltzing in here like you own the place when I’m the number one driver.”

You shove him in the chest. “Get over yourself! I earned my spot here.”

He shoves you back. “You don’t deserve to be here.”

Your blood boils as you stare him down. God he’s infuriating. And stubborn as hell. You doubt you’ll ever get him to admit any fault in this situation.

“Well I’m not going anywhere so I guess you’ll just have to get used to it,” you snap.

Max steps even closer, eyes blazing. Your noses nearly touch from how close he stands. “Is that so?” His voice comes out low, almost husky.

A shiver runs down your spine but you keep glaring at him. “Yeah, that’s so.”

You expect him to shoot back some nasty retort. Instead his eyes flick down to your lips for just a moment before meeting your heated gaze again.

Suddenly the energy shifts between you. The anger and tension remains but it transforms into something more primal. More dangerous.

Your breaths come heavier as electricity crackles in the nonexistent space left between you. Max’s pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as your own.

“I ...” Your voice comes out hoarse. “We should ...”

But neither of you make any move to step away. Without thinking your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips. Max tracks the movement with his intense stare.

“Fuck it,” he growls before crashing his mouth onto yours.

You gasp into the kiss and he takes advantage, deepening it. His hands grasp your hips roughly as he walks you backwards until your back hits the wall.

You barely process what’s happening. One second you were at each other’s throats, the next his body is pressing urgently against yours.

A moan escapes you when his lips move to your neck. He nips at the sensitive skin there and you thread your fingers into his hair.

“This is insane,” you pant out even as you tug him closer.

“I know,” Max breathes against your neck. His hands skim up your sides, pushing up your shirt. “I hate you.”

“I hate you more.” You crash your lips together again, tasting blood when you nip at him.

Max groans into your mouth as your tongues slide together. He hitches one of your legs around his hip, grinding against you.

You break the kiss to tip your head back, moaning at the feeling. Fuck, you despise this man, but right now you need him more than anything.

His hips keep up that delicious friction as he mouths at your collarbone. “I’m still going to beat you,” he rasps out.

You smirk, nails digging into his shoulders. “In your dreams.”

Max’s eyes darken at your taunt. Without warning, he grips your thighs and lifts you onto Christian’s desk. You gasp as he pushes between your legs, his growing arousal obvious.

“Careful what you wish for,” he murmurs before crushing his mouth to yours once more.

You moan into the frenzied kiss, tongues tangling as you tug at his hair. His hands slide up your thighs, fumbling with the button of your jeans to push them down around your ankles. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him against your heated core.

Even through the layers of clothing you can feel how hard he is. You rock your hips, desperate for more friction. Max groans and moves his lips to your neck, nipping down to your collarbone.

Your head tips back as his fingers dance up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. “God, I hate you so much,” you moan.

“I know.” His voice comes out rough, filled with lust.

Impatient, you reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head, tossing it aside. Your eyes rake over his muscular chest and arms. Unable to resist, you lean in and scrape your teeth over his nipple.

Max hisses in a breath, hands clenching on your hips. “Fuck ...”

You grin, laving your tongue over the sensitive nub as your fingers move to his belt buckle. With shaky hands you get it open and reach into his boxers, fingers wrapping around his thick length.

He shudders against you. “Shit, Y/N ...”

You stroke him firmly, reveling in the moans and curses falling from his lips. His own hands move under your shirt, palming your breasts through your bra.

It’s not enough. You strip off your shirt and reach back to unclasp your bra. Max wastes no time dipping his head to capture one of your nipples between his lips.

“Oh god ...” you gasp, back arching into him. His teeth and tongue work over your sensitive peaks until you’re writhing beneath him.

The sound of voices outside the door makes you both freeze. Fuck. The race weekend is still going on around you. Anyone could walk by and hear what’s happening.

You meet Max’s heated gaze. “We should stop,” you pant out half-heartedly.

His eyes blaze with defiance and lust. “No fucking way.”

Before you can react he drops to his knees, grasping your hips to pull you towards the edge of the desk.

Max tugs strongly on your lacy underwear until it gives way at the seams, baring you to him. He pauses to appreciate the view, eyes roaming hungrily over your glistening folds.

“I’m still going to beat you tomorrow,” he rasps.

You tug on his hair impatiently. “Just get on with it before we get caught.”

With a wicked grin he dives in, mouth latching onto your throbbing clit. You cry out, quickly slapping a hand over your own mouth.

You fumble with his belt, desperate to feel him. Max groans as you wrap your hand around his length.

“Fuck, just like that,” he groans against your skin, increasing the rhythm of his tongue in response. The desk rocks dangerously beneath you but neither of you slow your ministrations.

You whimper his name, pleasure building steadily under his expert touch. The fingers of one hand twist in his hair while you keep your other hand moving up and down in measured strokes as you near the edge.

“Look at me,” Max commands raggedly. You open your eyes to meet his wild gaze. The connection between you crackles.

“Max ...” you gasp as your climax crashes over you. You slap a hand over your lips, muffling your cries.

As you float back down, Max withdraws his mouth. You keen at the loss but then he’s lining himself up at your entrance. Gripping your hip tightly, he pushes inside in one smooth motion.

You cling to his shoulders, nails digging in as you adjust around him. Max trembles with restraint, giving you a moment before he starts to move.

Then he sets a relentless pace, the desk slamming against the wall with each powerful snap of his hips. You wrap your legs around him, spurring him even deeper.

Max pounds into you relentlessly, wrenching desperate moans from your lips. You’re vaguely aware of picture frames and papers tumbling to the floor around you but the chaos only adds to the thrill.

You’re close, the pressure building deep inside. With a few more well-angled thrusts you topple over the edge, coming hard around him. Your breasts bounce as your back arches sharply off the desk.

“There you go, princess,” Max rasps. He continues driving into your spasming center until his rhythm turns choppy and erratic.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Max grits out. You clench around him, greedy for his release. His hips stutter and then he spills inside you with a guttural groan. The sensation pushes you over the edge again, your vision whiting out from the intensity.

Breathing raggedly, Max collapses on top of you, pinning you to the desk. You’re both slick with sweat and utterly spent, your heart rates slowly returning to normal. You run your fingers through his damp waves soothingly.

The room is silent save for your heavy breathing. As the haze of lust clears, the ramifications of what just happened settle over you.

You just slept with your sworn rival on your team principal’s desk.

After a long moment Max pulls out of you and steps back, tucking himself away. On shaky legs you slide off the desk, stumbling slightly as you find your feet, and rush to put on your clothes.

Max grabs his shirt off the floor and shrugs back into it. His hair is mussed wildly and his lips are kiss-swollen. You’re sure you look much the same.

You and Max spring apart at the sound of the lock clicking open. Christian strides back into his office, oblivious to the disheveled state that both of his drivers are in.

“Well, have you two worked out your differences?” He looks between you expectantly.

You smooth down your rumpled shirt and attempt to tuck your wild hair back into place. Your cheeks flame as you meet Christian’s gaze.

“I think we’ve come to an ... understanding,” Max says evenly, though you notice a hint of color in his cheeks as well.

Christian surveys his office, taking in the askew trophies and books scattered across the floor. You hold your breath, certain he’s going to put two and two together.

“It seems you had a disagreement about reorganizing my office during your chat,” Christian says wryly.

You nearly choke in surprise. Does he really not realize what just transpired on his desk? You chance a glance at Max and have to suppress a hysterical giggle at the disbelief on his face.

“I apologize for the mess, we got a bit ... heated,” you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing at the double meaning.

“Yes, clearly things escalated between you two.” Christian frowns at a photo of him and Dietrich Mateschitz now lying cracked on the floor. You resist the urge to shrink under his disappointed dad stare.

“However, the important thing is you’ve worked through this animosity once and for all, correct?” He looks between you expectantly.

You and Max nod in unison. “Water under the bridge,” Max assures him. You’re impressed by how steady he manages to keep his voice even as you can see the barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Excellent. I’ll inform the team that tensions are resolved and they can stop walking on eggshells around the both of you.” Christian claps his hands together, apparently satisfied. “Now get out of here and get ready for free practice.”

You and Max don’t need telling twice. As soon as the door shuts behind you, the laughter you’ve been holding in bubbles out.

“I can’t believe he actually bought that,” Max says between chuckles.

“We literally destroyed his office and he thinks we just had a minor spat,” you giggle, shaking your head incredulously.

Your laughter trails off as the reality of what happened sinks in. You just had crazy hot sex with Max Verstappen. Where do you go from here?

Before you can overthink it, Max presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Meet me at the hotel tonight? We should continue this conversation somewhere more private,” he murmurs suggestively.

You bite your lip but find yourself nodding. As complicated and ill-advised as this may be, you can’t find it in yourself to deny your attraction to Max now that you’ve given in to it.

“It’s a date,” you whisper back.

Max grins and steals another quick kiss before you part ways to get changed.

[fastandcarlos]

Shaving Practice : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: as you reluctantly say goodbye to charles' beard, he finds himself wanting a helping hand in order to get rid of it

Your footsteps were quiet as you made your way across to the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe. Charles was stood, unaware of your presence behind him, as his hands brushed through his hair before running along his jawline, noticing just how long his beard was beginning to get, frowning at how uncomfortable it was. 

“So handsome,” you jokingly commented, making Charles jump as he twirled around to come face to face with you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump,” you added as you walked further into the room. 

Charles’ head shook as he pressed a kiss against the top of your head. “I wasn’t expecting you to be home so early, I thought I’d have time to get rid of this thing before you got back and tried to argue with me that I couldn’t.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re going clean shaven again?” 

Charles’ head nodded, much to your dissatisfaction. As you went to protest, Charles turned around anyway and began filling the sink with water, grabbing his shaving foam from the cupboard. You leant back against the wall and watched as Charles began to apply the foam to his face. 

“Is this really necessary? Can’t you just trim it or something?” You tried to suggest, but Charles shook his head. “You know what you with a beard does to me Charles.” 

“I know, and it’ll grow back,” he tried his best to assure you, picking up his razor. “But for now I just need to tidy myself up for a bit, and that means getting rid of all of this.” 

“You promise you’re going to grow it back?” You challenged, wanting to hear it one more time from Charles. “I don’t get why you don’t love the beard as much as I do.” 

Another laugh came from Charles as you continued to protest behind him.  “I do like it,” Charles smirked as he took the lid off of his razor. “But sometimes I just prefer to be clean shaven for a while, I guess it just depends on how I’m feeling.” 

You moved closer to Charles, resting your hand on his shoulder as he started to run his razor along his face. “I bet all of your fans would agree that the beard is better anyway.” 

Your eyes looked nowhere else but at Charles as he continued to shave the right side of his face. He could feel you watching, glancing briefly to look at the concentration in your face as you studied him, admiring how gentle his movements were to make sure that he didn’t hurt himself. 

After a few minutes Charles came to a stop, turning around to face you. Once he had rinsed the razor off in the sink he held it out to you, a wide smile on his face as your brows knitted together. 

“I can feel you watching me, so now it’s your turn to do it instead.” 

“You’re trusting me to shave your face?” 

Charles nodded as you took the razor from his hand, moving closer to him so that you could see. “You’ve shaved yourself enough times, it’s only the same as that, just this time you’re shaving a face. Surely you can’t mess it up.” 

You looked to Charles questionably, impressed by how well he trusted you to shave him without making a mess. “This is either going to be the smartest or stupidest thing you suggest that we do just so you know.” 

“I trust that you’ll take good care of me,” Charles proudly told you as he felt your hand hold onto his chin as you began to shave the other side of his face. “This feels like the sort of thing they do in the movies.” 

You could only hum in reply to Charles as you didn’t want to lose your concentration. Whilst you focused, his arm couldn’t help but snake around your frame as Charles kept you as close to him as possible. 

Although Charles always knew you’d do a careful job of helping him shave, he couldn’t help but feel his heart race at just how concentrated you were. As much as it pained you to say goodbye to his beard, you knew that it was the right thing to do and Charles’ choice.  

“I’m looking good,” he smirked as you began to wash some of the foam off of his face from where you had shaven, impressed by how good of a job you’d done. “Now it’s time to get rid of your favourite bit though, my chin.” 

Your eyes rolled but you knew it needed to be done. “As much as it pains me to shave it off, I can’t have you going out looking like you do right now, people will think you’re a right weirdo.” 

“I’m a weirdo for you,” Charles remarked, hearing you scoff beside him. 

Your head shook in disbelief at his comment, “sometimes I wonder if you hear the things you say in your head before you say them aloud?” 

“I’m just distracting you from the fact you’re shaving my beard off,” he laughed in reply. 

Your conversations continued as you carried on your job of shaving Charles. You were cautious with every stroke, hearing light giggles come from Charles every time he felt you tickle his face or panic when you thought you might’ve hurt him.  

Every so often you took a step back, studying Charles’ face to make sure that you didn’t miss a bit. “Stop it,” you whispered as you did so, feeling the intense stare of his eyes looking at you, silently asking for you to meet his eyes. 

Charles innocently smiled as you placed the razor down, content that you had shaven every hair from his face. “I’m not doing anything,” he smirked, tickling gently against your waist now that the razor was done. 

Your hand reached into the sink, picking up some water and flicking it at Charles to try and deter him away. “You’ve just made me shave your beloved beard, there’s no way I’m sleeping with you right now.” 

“Why not?” Charles chuckled, wiping his face with the material of his shirt. “We could use this as an opportunity for me to remind you how good I can also make you feel without the beard,” he hummed, pulling your frame closer towards him, only a few centimetres between you both. 

“It still won’t be as good as the beard,” you jokingly protested. 

Charles began to pepper kisses along your neck, brushing his smooth skin against yours. “I don’t think you can make an assumption like that without trying it out.” 

You tried your best to ignore what Charles was doing, but as one of his hands began to trail further down your body you found yourself very quickly losing control. 

Charles could feel your body tense up too as his lips trailed up to your sweet spot just below your ear. “I think you secretly fancy me just as much without the beard as you do with it, all you have to do is say the word and I’m all yours my love.” 

Momentarily Charles pulled away from you, allowing his eyes to meet your own. “You’re enjoying this too much,” you scolded as Charles proudly nodded back at you. 

His eyebrows raised as he admired the expression on your face. “I don’t think I’m the only one that’s enjoying this, you seem to be a little bit flustered there cherie.” 

“I hate the things that you do to me sometimes., you’re the worst Charles LeClerc.” 

A snigger came from Charles, “I’m still waiting to hear what you want from me.” 

“I mean, we might as well try now that we’re here, Charlie.” 

“I’ll prove you wrong my love.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[lurochar]

Before It All (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Obsessive Alastor

Part 1 + Part 2

---------------------------------

It really was you.

His nameless Doe.

You seemed tense, clearly uneasy by the static he emitted and his presence alone by the looks of your erect ears and puffed fur of your tail.

(How cute, you had your clothes altered for your tail. A shame he hadn’t noticed it back when he had summoned you).

Alastor was now used to fellow demons being unnerved and frightened in his presence and so they should be, but you – there was no reason for you to be so anxious in his company, though he supposed he could understand it somewhat.

The power dynamics were completely turned around.

You had no advantage over him, he wasn’t that weak human anymore.

But still, Alastor didn’t like the fact you were so wary of him, so he needed to lighten the mood, break the tense atmosphere, and there was no better way than reminding you of your encounter with him when he was the weaker one, when you had the power over him, was there?

“How I’ve missed your wonderful ears, my nameless Doe.”

Alastor always did find your ears fascinating.

He may have his own pair of deer ears now and they had their uses – his auditory senses were vastly superior when compared to his human self, so much so, it took a week or two for him to adjust to sensory overload. They also gave any would-be attackers a false sense of security, he was just a deer demon, so he had to be weak.

Ripping those sorts to shreds felt much more satisfying.

But his ears were so damn sensitive to touch that Alastor had no idea how you didn’t just melt into a trembling mess when you allowed him to stroke your ears all those years ago.

He needed to move on from these thoughts before–

You blinked at his odd greeting, your body relaxing slightly from its earlier tensed position that had been poised to flee at any given second.

You blinked again.

And then you let out a loud yelp of surprise, springing forward when you felt icy cold hands playfully tug on your ears from behind. 

–before his shadow acted upon them.

You reeled around to see what had touched you, not expecting to see a grin right up in your face and you stumbled back a bit, happy enough that you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of the Radio Demon/Alastor by letting out some sort of pitiful sound like a scream or shriek.

“I do hope you can excuse my shadow’s behaviour. The poor thing can hardly contain itself, seeing it is a reflection of me.” Alastor gestured the shadow away, which it did after giving you a last glance before it vanished. “Well then, should we do now what we should have done twenty-four years ago?”

You’re unsure what he is talking about.

“Introductions, my nameless Doe! Unless you prefer that name over your real one.” Alastor bows in a flashy way. “Alastor Hartfelt! But you already knew that, correct?” He stood up straight and eyed you expectantly.

“It’s nothing special, it’s just Y/N.” You shrug before eyeing Alastor intently and you hope you don’t get killed or worse for your question. “You just seemed like a miserable boy brought up in a miserable situation, so I gave you a pass. I thought if I got rid of your main problem, maybe you could live the rest of your life normally. You didn’t even make it to forty. What happened?”

Alastor hummed. “It would turn out that my father was only a drop in the bucket. After that wretch was gone from our lives, my Mama instilled in me the importance and value of women. Women are not second-class citizens nor are they property, but this way of thinking was uncommon and misogyny was everywhere.”

You think you can guess where this is heading to…

“I killed men, men like my father. Men who see no problem in beating their wife. Degenerates that stalked the alleyways for their next rape victim. For over a decade, I was the ‘Bayou Butcher’. It’s only due to the incompetence of a hunter that I am here now.” The expression on his face was that of delight. “I have no remorse. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.”

Oh.

It’s… it’s not what you wanted for Alastor, but you remembered that sheer hatred in his eyes. Something that deeply rooted wasn’t so easily erased, even if the main cause was taken out of the situation.

Unfortunately, you were not wrong in guessing Alastor would eventually condemn himself to Hell.

Fortunately, you had held onto Hartfelt for the past twenty some years.

You do have another question, but you know better than to ask.

Some demons don't care, but some demons can get quite offended if asked about their appearance and why they ended up looking the way they do. It’s personal, tied to their sins in life and their manner of death.

Asking Alastor why he ended up as a deer demon, a prey-based demon, could get you killed or maybe worse.

“I was mistaken for a deer by an inept hunter who took a shot before bothering to confirm what he was shooting at.” Alastor answers easily and casually, as if reading your mind and knowing what you want to ask. “Do not be afraid to ask me anything, my lovely Doe. I assume you heard my message on one of my broadcasts, yes? I meant every word of what I said.”

Lovely Doe?

‘I told him my name…’ You decided it didn’t matter too much as it wasn’t demeaning or degrading. You’ve been called much, much worse and on a regular basis by Hartfelt, so hearing an affectionate(?) nickname was a bit of refreshing change–

Should you be thinking that way?

Your ears dropped.

“Listen, Alastor,” you noticed his eyes seemed to glow brighter from you simply saying his name, “I messed up that day. I… I shouldn’t have touched you, let alone hug you. There are countless reasons why most demons don’t have free access to the human world. Contact with demons tends to screw humans up. Even just one night with a Succubus or an Incubus can fuck up humans for months and they’re low-class demons.”

Alastor simply tilted his head.

“I’m mid-class and… and I should have known better.” You sighed. “I think I messed you up in some way by touching you and letting you touch me.”

You were taken back when Alastor started to laugh and your ears flattened completely, slightly bothered by his reaction to your words.

Did you say something amusing?

“Oh dear me, you have twisted it all around in your worrisome mind, haven’t you?” Alastor chuckled. “So you have yet to realize you saved me and my Mama from that piece of scum I had to call ‘father’? My life even? Had you not killed that man for me, I would have made a clumsy attempt to murder that man, whether I succeeded or not. Such a thing would have cost me my life much earlier. I would not have been able to pursue my career and take good care of my Mama until her final days.”

You flustered, not sure what to say back.

“I lived my life the way I wished to because you freed me from that man. I am here in Hell purely of my own actions, though perhaps a little earlier than expected. You are very much downplaying what you are to me and I cannot say I care much for it.” Alastor couldn’t help the loudening crackle of his static.

“...okay…”

“Pardon?” Alastor’s ears twitched at the mumble of your voice, though he heard you just fine. He wanted you to clarify what ‘okay’ meant and look him in the eyes as you did so. He wouldn’t trap you in a contract like the fools whose souls he owned, but with his guaranteed protection for nothing more than just staying at his side and within his sight, how could you refuse?

(Though, if you wanted to give him your soul, he certainly wouldn’t turn it down).

“Okay! Maybe I didn’t fuck you up! Maybe you were… a little ‘different’ from the start!” You weren’t sure how to say ‘psychopathic’ in a nice way. “I still felt guilty about it this entire time. I hoped differently, but I knew you would probably end up in Hell.” You admitted, huffing when Alastor let out another chuckle. “So I did something to try to make up for it in case I did mess with your mind somehow.”

“Hmm, and what is that, my lovely Doe?” Alastor’s smile seemed to widen and it may be hidden from view, his tail wagged in excitement. “You thought of me, even before I landed myself in Hell? I must say, I’m quite flattered!”

“I looked for him as soon as I got back from the human world and found him before he understood how… things worked around here.” You didn’t feel bad in the least. “So I tricked him into making a deal with me. Shelter, food, simple basics for his soul. He didn’t seem used to living on the streets, so he took it right away. He didn’t understand what it actually meant to give your soul away.”

“Well done! What a delightful little tidbit! I had no idea if you would be interested in the art of deal-making. I would be more than happy to guide you. Why, I already own a great number of souls myself.” Alastor’s smile turned a little more sinister and he felt his blood heat at the thought of watching you trick some desperate fool into giving you their soul.

He would slaughter an entire district just to see that.

“I’ve… never really thought about it? I just do what I can to get by. Prey and livestock-based demons don’t have it easy in Hell.” You were sought out for your meat after all. “Anyway, I thought I’d make it up to you by – well, that demon whose soul I own is your father’s.”

The static around Alastor went completely silent.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous. “I, uh, I always intended on giving you ownership of his soul whenever you ended up here, if you ended up in Hell. You can do anything you want to him, I have no intention of interfering if you… wanted to broadcast his torment or something.”

Shit, why was Alastor staring at you like that?

Was it the wrong choice? Did he want nothing to do with his father?

“W-WAH!” It was the most pitiful fucking noise you could probably make, worse than that earlier yelp when Alastor seemed to melt into the floor through a void of shadows and then reappear right in your personal space before you comprehended what happened. That was not the reason you let out a damn bleat before you could help it, though.

Alastor was stroking your ears just as he had done twenty-four years prior.

“A gift from you is always welcome, but this – I never imagined one that would bring me such… joy. Truly, you were always meant for me, my lovely Doe.”

“S-so, I take it you want ownership of his soul?” You struggled to get the words out, feeling your vision blur for a moment. You let out a breath of relief when Alastor reluctantly released your ears, but he didn’t step away from your personal space.

“Yes. I’m more than willing to give you a soul – ten even, in return. Mama may disapprove of it, but I will pay back a thousandfold and more for what that man put her through. He will suffer the worst torture I can possibly think of.” To your amazement, Alastor’s pupils spun into a shape that resembled radio dials before returning to normal.

“It’s a gift. You don’t need to give me anything back in return.” You blinked in surprise when Alastor poked your cheek, pinching it playfully before tutting at you. “What was that?!”

“You have been here longer than me, but it seems I must teach you a few good lessons.” Alastor held out his hand invitingly. “Before this transaction, would you like a tour of my radio tower?”

You placed your hand in his. “You’re going to have to explain it like you would to a child how this radio stuff actually works. I can turn my radio on and change the station, that’s about it.”

Alastor felt that chill that followed him all his life leave him and his smile felt genuine for very few times that it was as he felt your hand wrap around his.

He may be dead and in Hell, but his (after)life was looking rather bright – he still could enjoy his passion for radio and he no longer had to hide his true sadistic nature and homicidal thoughts. Better yet, he could combine the two and broadcast tortured screams for denizens of Hell to hear!

He was powerful and feared, toppling Overlords to become himself in an extremely short period of time and he owned multiple souls to do his bidding whenever and whatever he wanted – and soon, he could add his miserable wretch of a father to his collection to torment all he likes.

Best of all, he finally found you, the demon who made this all possible for him and now that he had you in his grasp, there was no conceivable way he would ever let you elude him. He could certainly give you the illusion of freedom and space if that’s what you wanted.

He was charming, he knew that, it’s all he needed to win you over.

Perhaps it would take a little time and patience, but he would get what he wanted in the end like he always did.

His lovely Doe. His new wife.

It was a dream that Alastor was going to turn into his reality.

----------------------------------------------------------

I hope this ending was satisfying

Tags: @alishii @yourdoorisunlocked @godsent69 @eris-norwega @catticora @tayraedoll @michi-keinz @martinys-world @n0tmentallystable @xalygatorx @everwolf-20 @yui-onnero

[ynsvnte]

Lady Love ! — Sim Jaeyun

Genre: arranged marriage, strangers to lovers, drabble, royal au, fluff?

wc: 985

warnings: petnames (sweetheart), one kiss

pairing: prince!jake x princess!reader

Synopsis: you hated the fact you were being sent off to get married. You don’t even know your future husband. You thought badly of him..only to find out the quite opposite

Masterlist

You sighed, staring out the window of the carriage.. you didn’t want to meet your so called future husband. It’s stupid on how your parents chose your spouse for you.. and their reasoning being “Oh! We must keep this tradition alive!” Well you don’t like this tradition. Seriously, how does your own mother think that when she got with your father the same way? You look over to see a castle from a distance. The carriage slowly came to a stop. You wanted to just disappear. You don’t know whether you are nervous or annoyed, probably maybe even both. You try to shake off the feeling. You hear the door opening, facing the direction.. your bodyguard comes in sight announcing..

“We have arrived Princess..Yn..” He says moving to the side to let you get through while holding his hand out. You take his hand carefully stepping out of your carriage. You admire the Greek styled castle.. that’s until you hear your mother’s voice.

“Yn! You’ve arrived my sweetheart..I thought you got lost on your way here!” She said with worry.. you shake your head.. slightly embarrassed.

“No..sorry mother for taking a little longer..” you say hoping to ease her a bit. Your mother sighs in relief before your father speaks up.

“Come on now.. we’ve come here for one reason and we don’t want to keep him waiting..” you wanted to roll your eyes. Since when did you agree to this!?! Never. You don’t get why you don’t choose on your own.

“Yes..father..” you say with a polite voice.. oh how you wanted to shout at his face.. you all approach the castle’s door.. slowly opening.. it reveals a long hallway full of butlers and maids ready to take any command. They all stare at you making you a little nervous. Not like you were nervous a whole lot.

“Your highness.. the family is waiting for you in the meeting room..” one maid said bowing. “Follow me..” she added.. you follow her, your nerves going up each second as you get closer. You wonder how he looks, how he acts, what would he think of you? Questions were quickly filling up your mind to the point you didn’t realize you'd arrived at the door..

“Yn.? Yn? Sweetie?” You heard your name ring called. You slightly shake a bit before facing your mother.. “Y-yes..?” You asked..fidgeting with your fingers.. “Are you alright??” she looks at your concern. “Huh..yeah I’m fine..” totally fine.. NO! You were a mess!! Of course you weren’t fine. “Oh alright, are you ready?..” What?!?! No!?! If you could, you'd definitely jump off a bridge. “I guess..” nope.

With that you walk into the room seeing the old couple sitting down discussing something until they notice your presence. Stopping, they smile at you softly. They don’t seem that bad..but that doesn’t mean the same as for their son.

“You must be yn..” the old man asked. You nodded your head.. “Yes, your highness, that would be me.” You said politely, bowing. “No need to be formal..as you’ll be marrying my son..” you put on a fake smile.. hoping it was somewhat believable. You take a seat..somewhat calmer than before. You sit in your seat as your parents talk with his parents. You can’t believe these two will be your in-laws. You sigh with boredom. Your gaze lands in the stained glass window.. the sunlight leaving a beautiful color on the table. That’s when you hear a deep voice.

“Sorry for being late mother and father..” it’s him.. you don’t want to turn around but can’t help it. “Oh my son!” His dad says cheerfully getting up and walking towards him. You slowly turn around and see him. You’re beyond shocked he was..very.. handsome.. very much your type. He looks like a golden retriever of some sort.. his presence felt so..bubbly. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. Air caught in your throat. His black hair is nicely styled, brown eyes with a sparkle, and oh, that sweet smile of his.. but looks can’t say all. The prince.. greets his parents before greeting yours. Your eyes followed his every movement. He eventually turned his direction towards you. You quickly get up too much for your liking, and bow..

“It’s nice to meet you..?” The prince starts off.. “Yn…” you say softly. Your heart skips a beat. “Yn..lovely name..” He takes your hand and kisses it.. “Name’s Jaeyun.. but just call me Jake, sweetheart..” Sweetheart oh you could definitely faint on the spot.

“How about you two get to know a little more about each other..” his mother suggested.. “Of course mother.. here come with me..” he says before taking your wrist in his hand. He takes you over to the backyard revealing a huge field..

“So yn.. I’ll be marrying you..” Right.. “yeah..” you said awkwardly.. “Not bad..I wasn’t expecting someone like you.. more quiet than most..and definitely very very beautiful..” oh gosh he just called you beautiful. You can feel your face getting warm, maybe it’s just the weather. “Thank you..” Jake nodded his head.. “I didn’t agree to this.. parents choice.. but now that I think about it I don’t mind at all now..” Jake adds leaving you stunned so he felt the same way.. “Huh..me too.” You say with wide eyes looking at him.. Jake could just kiss you right now, but he had some self control in him. “Feelings are mutual..so you don’t mind being my wife?” Oh now he was teasing you. “What? I never said anything..”

“I know but the way your body language is speaking right now says the opposite, but don’t worry sweetheart.. I don’t mind you being my wife.” Jake says before kissing you on the lips and walking away leaving you flustered. Oh boy were you so happy.

Author’s Note: I did it yay! Umm I thought of this out of nowhere and just liked the idea so here it is .. this was what I was straying to finish.

© ynsvnte copyright 2024

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Conversations On Top of an Elevator

Pairing - Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader

Summary - Well, your brother has gotten you and Steve into another mess, this time on top of a Russian elevator. While Steve stresses out, you reassure him that you've gotten out of this shit before, you can do it again.

Word Count - 1.4k

Warnings - Language

If someone had asked you how you thought you would be spending your extra long holiday weekend, being stuck inside of a Russian elevator was not an option you would have come up with. Yet here you were. 

Letting out a sigh, you glanced around the elevator again, as if some way to exit would magically appear before you. Erica was slumped over in one corner using her backpack as a pillow while Dustin was snoring against your shoulder and Robin was pacing around the room, moving things around and trying to find another exit. From above you could hear the sound of Steve also walking around, also trying to come up with a plan, but every few steps a curse word would join the noise. 

“You should go check on him.” Robin spoke up when she noticed where you were looking. 

You bit your lip as another loud cry of “Fuck!” sounded from above. “You’re probably right.” Carefully, trying not to wake your brother, you eased him off of you and to the makeshift steps you guys had made to reach the opening at the top of the elevator. 

Peeking through, you watched for a moment as Steve walked around, muttering under his breath, looking panicked and irritated until you cleared your throat to get his attention. “You doing all right up here?” 

“Oh, yeah, just fucking dandy.” He said, kicking the wall half heartedly. 

You raised your eyebrows at the sassy tone directed at you. “Oh you sound it. I can hear you dancing around up here. Sounds like you’re having the time of your life.” 

But Steve was clearly not in a teasing mood. He turned to you, frustration clear in the set of his jaw. “Really Henderson? You think it’s the right time for your sarcasm?” 

Ouch. He hadn’t directed that sort of annoyance at you in months now, and you had to admit it hurt a little bit. You held your hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Heaven forbid I try to check on you Harrington. I won’t bother next time.” You started to back down into the elevator, but before you could, you felt his hand on your arm. 

“Shit, wait, I’m sorry. I’m being a dick.” He admitted, running a hand through his hair. 

Rolling your eyes, you responded. “Tell me something I don’t know.” 

He didn’t hesitate. “That I’d feel a lot better if you were up here with me.” 

That made you pause. The words were spoken so sincerely and honestly that you couldn’t help a small smile forming on your face. You hoisted yourself up the rest of the way on top of the elevator and sat down, glancing up above you until the walls of the elevator faded to black. “That’s really fucking high.” You said. 

He plopped down beside you, his thigh pressed against yours even though there was plenty of space. “A lot higher than that rope in gym class.” 

“I hated that damn thing.” You admitted. “And I don’t think even you have enough body strength to get us all the way up there.” 

Steve didn’t deny it, instead he leaned over covering his face with his hands. “I don’t have a fucking clue what to do.” 

You didn’t like to see him like this, but you understood why he was. “Hey,” You placed your hand on his back, rubbing it. “We’ll figure it out. One way or another this elevator is going to end up either opening down here, or opening up there. I think we just need to be ready for it when it does.” 

He lifted his head and stared at you, his expression unreadable. “How are you so calm about all of this?”

You hadn’t realized you were feeling calm until this moment, but you knew the reason. You shrugged, sending him a small smile. “When we got stuck in shit like this, we found a way out last time right? I guess I just have faith we’ll do it again.” 

“But what makes you so sure?” Steve asked, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. 

“Because I trust you.” You said, the words flying out of your mouth before you even really had the chance to consider them, but you wouldn’t take them back anyway. “Plus Dustin and Erica are pretty smart. I’m sure they can help us come up with a plan once those doors open. Not to mention Robin who is also smart as -”

Warmth exploded through your side as you felt Steve’s arm slip through yours so that he could grab your hand. “You trust me, huh?” 

You tried not to show how flustered that made you, but you could still feel the heat gathering on your cheeks. “Well, you have saved my life so . . .”

“I’ve done that like once -”

“Once is all it takes.” You said, bumping his shoulder playfully. “Do you trust me?” You asked, your tone was curious, teasing, but you found you actually wanted to know the answer. 

While your tone had been teasing, his was serious with the tiniest hint of disbelief, almost as if he couldn’t believe that you had to ask. “Of course I do. I don’t tell just anyone my hair care secrets.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, which made him smile at you. “Did it.” You said, once your laugh had died down. 

His brow furrowed as he looked at you, but the slight smile didn’t leave his face. “Did what?” 

“Made you smile.” You admitted, heat rushing to your face once more as Steve, instead of gripping your hand like he had been, entwined your fingers together. “I - You - you really needed to chill out, Harrington. I can’t have you and everyone else panicking on me at the same time.” Once again, you tried to hide how much this gentle touch was affecting you, but you knew from the grin on Steve’s face that he saw right through you. 

“That was all it was, huh? You wanted to make me smile so I’d calm down?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“What else would it be?” You countered as your heart sped up to an almost unbelievable rate. God, you were practically begging him to say something with your eyes. Give some sort of indication that you hadn’t imagined everything that had happened this summer. That even if you had never in your life imagined being in love with Steve Harrington, he was feeling the same about you. 

The two of you kept looking at each other, waiting for the other one to say something. You could feel the tension building and your grip on Steve’s hand got tighter as he finally said your name in the softest tone and began to lean forward - 

“Ow, shit!” 

You both jumped apart in time to see a yellow “Camp Know Where” hat disappearing back into the elevator. 

“They were having a moment, dipshit!” You heard Robin hiss. 

You let out a sigh, realizing that the moment was over as Steve settled beside you once more, his back against the wall. However, he didn’t let go of your hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, you found yourself leaning towards him until your head rested on his shoulders. “Hey, Steve?” You said after a couple of seconds of silence. 

“Yeah?” He said, his voice soft even in the silence of the elevator shaft. 

“If I had to get stuck in a Russian Elevator, I’m glad it’s with you.” You admitted. 

His head settled against the top of yours, and you smiled at the gesture. “And your little brother, Lucas’s little sister and Robin?” Steve teased. 

You let out a little chuckle and eased yourself even closer to him. “Yeah, but mostly you.” 

“I’m glad you’re here too. It’ll keep me from murdering your little brother after he dragged me into this shit again.” He admitted. 

At his words, you remembered the conversation you had overheard when you were coming to pick Dustin up from the mall, and couldn’t help but tense up slightly. “Oh really? I thought you wanted to be dragged into it so you could impress girls and be an ‘American Hero’.” 

Steve’s thumb brushed the side of your hand, the gentle caress sending your heart into palpitations as he responded. “Yeah, well . . . There’s really only one girl I’m trying to impress.” 

You sat up at that, wanting to see his face. The look in his eyes told you exactly who he was trying to impress. “Maybe you don’t have to impress her.” You said, your voice as soft as his touch. “Maybe she’s been impressed by you for a long time now.” 

That smile you loved appeared on his face again. “You think?” 

You found yourself mirroring his smile. “I’ve got a hunch.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being honest about what I would change about my boyfriend?

🥊🥊

I’m a cis guy (22m) and I have a boyfriend that’s transgender (20m). We’ve been together for 2 years.

My boyfriend is a very cute guy and he gets hit on a lot in queer spaces tbh. even by lesbians, and they fully see him as a guy. He’s just very sweet and approachable I guess. A lot of people tell him he’s super attractive and I agree, but there are just certain things about his body that don’t appeal to me.

We were at a friend’s birthday party. People got drunk, I was tipsy. We played this game that was like cards with questions about relationships/love/intimacy on them and the whole group would discuss.

One of the questions was something along the lines of "If you could change anything about your partner, what would it be?" Or whatever.

Now, I went first and said I’d probably make him less hairy and get rid of the dark spots in his crotch area and his acne scars. He has some discoloration around his private areas from a rash he got when he was like 13 and some faint scarring from pimples I guess. It’s not an issue, but definitely not my preference. Plus he can’t really shave clean down there because he has thick hair and it always makes him get those razor burn bumps or whatever. Fine by me, he’s hot as hell either way.

Plus, he has a lot of discoloration around his shoulders, back, chest and face from severe acne outbreaks from his puberty and then later again when he started taking testosterone. It’s calmed down a lot, but the scarring is still very prominent. It’s not an issue, just not very pretty to look at.

Please don’t get me wrong. He’s an incredibly attractive person, I just wish his skin was a little prettier. It’s a bit of a turnoff, that’s all. It never stopped me from being absolutely enamored with him.

But when I explained this, a little less explicitly than this of course, the group went dead silent. Everyone was staring at me, some of the girls even clasped their hands over their mouths etc.

When I looked at my boyfriend he was completely pale and was just blankly staring at me before getting up and saying he needs to pee. I just said okay and then gave the card to the person next to me. She very quietly said she’d take away her girlfriend’s anxiety because it hurts her to see the person she loves like that. That’s when it sort of dawned on me that I messed up and that I was way out of line for saying these things in front of our friends.

He apparently left soon after that, which I only found out through a friend. I was a little confused but figured he was just a little embarrassed. We don’t live together, so it isn’t unusual for one of us to leave before the other. But then I found out that his best friend left with him because he was sobbing and couldn’t stop.

I tried calling him and texting him for multiple hours and didn’t want to overstep any boundaries by just popping up at his home, so I gave up and eventually went home. That was two days ago and I still haven’t heard from him. He’s usually a very clingy and noisy person and always sends me small updates throughout the day, but I haven’t heard anything from him the entire time.

I’m so scared. I love this guy so much, he’s the sweetest and the single most interesting person I’ve ever met in my life. I know he has a lot of severe insecurity issues around his body, especially regarding his scarring. But it’s all gotten a lot better in recent months and he even began to love how hairy he is because it makes him feel euphoric.

Now I can’t help but feel like I took that away from him because of some stupid game. But at the same time, I don’t think it was fair for him to just up and leave without talking to me. We could’ve talked it out and I just wish he would communicate with me.

I already know I was a bit out of line for this, but I just tend to be uncomfortably honest. He knows this and loves me for it, so I’m confused why he’s THIS upset about this one. He’s never gone this long without talking to me.

Am I the asshole? I was just playing the game. I don’t think it’s fair to call me cruel for this just because other people are scared to be honest and say shit like they’d take away their partner’s mental illness. It’s so fake and that shit just pisses me off. Everyone has something they would change about their partner’s appearance.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

OMG SAW UR ASKS WERE OPEN AND I RAN SO FAST HFJDJSBS

Anyways ok so imagine *trips over my own feet* imagine uhm baking cookies *stumbling* baking cookies with Lilia:3

No pressure ofc! I hope u will enjoy writing this if u do! And make sure to drink after and take care of urself!

Flour Belongs In The Cookies; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, fluff, some pining

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; Cloudy, you do know how bad his cooking is, right? Besides that, I hope you enjoy what I did with this little prompt!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You knew full well going into this that Lilia … wasn’t the best person to leave around food. Well, you didn’t know to the full extent how ‘bad’, ‘revolting’, and ‘utterly cursed’ he was according to his dormmates (and adoptive family? Still trying to wrap your head around that one, to be honest). 

Yet, as you were both adding ingredients to the batch of cookies you were making, he had done nothing to tamper with the recipe or mess up by accident. Perhaps Silver, Sebek and Malleus were just overexaggerating it? Lilia has been completely fine, a great helper even! 

“So,” you cleared your throat, breaking the quiet (which was both comfortable yet awkward). “Why did you want to bake cookies with me? Not that I mind, just curious is all.”

Lilia looked up from the wet and dry ingredients he was combining and offered you a cheeky smile with a wink. “Hmm, do I need a reason to do so,” he breathed with a silent chuckle, sneaking some of the raw dough into his mouth.

You tutted, taking the bowl away from him. “I don’t need you getting sick from eating that now–”

But your attempt at lecturing was silenced by a small puff of flour being slapped gently on your cheek; a white handprint now on it. “RUDE!”

Lilia was having a good old laugh, from either getting flour on you, the shocked expression on your face, or a combination of the two (knowing him, it was bound to be the last one). He was actually getting pink in the face because of it; was he even taking breaks from laughing to breathe???

“Ah, lighten up! Plus,” he paused and covered your hand in flour and gently slapped it on his cheek, “there, we match now.” 

His magenta eyes were twinkling with mischief and you found yourself gently shaking your head and chuckling. Sighing, you picked up some flour with your hands and made it look like you were just going to cover the countertop with it, but you swerved, and slapped it into Lilia��s hair.

Lilia coughed, and rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the flour out of his eyes, but once he opened them again, you were gone. So we’re playing games now? But he just wheezed in delight and gave chase, a cup full of flour on hand so he could repay the favour. After all, since you both had matching handprints on your cheeks, you deserved to be bestowed some flour on your head.

“And here you were saying it was rude of me for that first move,” he called out into the dorm. They couldn’t have gotten far now.

He heard the curtains ruffle, and he floated over, not making a sound.

Peaking oh so carefully behind the curtains, he spotted you, silently giggling to yourself. And that’s when he made his move.

“Found you!~” And he sprinkled the flour over your head; much more gently than you did to him.

You groaned, knowing it would take a bit to get the flour out from everything… but the way Lilia floated overhead made it look like he was sprinkling snow… was he always this pretty? Even with him covered in flour, you still felt your heart flutter.

You mentally slapped your cheeks though, and got yourself up. 

“Guess you did… but that was fun,” you chuckled, dusting yourself off to the best of your ability.

The moment though was ruined by your smoke alarm going off; it was a wonder that those even worked, but hey, at least they worked.

Rushing to the kitchen, you opened up the oven to have a mass of black smoke smelling of burnt food of some sort enveloping the both of you.

“What happened?!” You coughed out, trying to open up the windows and doors to let out the smoke.

Lilia grimaced, “Ah… perhaps I set the oven too high.”

And even though you had fun making the now coal-like cookies, perhaps store-bought would have been better…

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Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

The gang + powerful overlord reader who is trying to reform

A/n: Tbh I don't have the strongest grasp on what makes an overlord an overlord but I tried. Everything here is platonic!

Warning: Very slight alluding to suicide. It's in one sentence and not supposed to be about suicide but I just wanted to warn y'all in case.

(Not beta read!)

You honestly didn't want to be an overlord. But if you had some power maybe the citizens of hell would leave you alone. And you were admittedly powerful. Which wasn't by your own doing, just like in the living world everything was down to luck. And you won the lottery. So you decided to spend the money and became an overlord. Just to lower the chance of demons pestering you.

It worked. It worked too well. You took out a few overlords, it was dirty. You caught them off guard in the middle of going about their life. You don't keep up with politics. To your surprise, you took out two heavy hitters. Which did result in people not pestering you. But not just that it resulted in them outright avoiding you. You didn't feel good about killing them, you just killed as many as you thought would need to make you noteable. If you had just killed the two it would have removed more unnecessary deaths that you caused.

People would literally light themselves on fire rather than be near you. Out of fear of what gruesome way you would kill them. Not that you would kill them but rumors spread. It went from you just stabbing the overlords to torturing them in the most messed up way possible. You being this insanely powerful and sadistic being. That was the only way they could imagine you killing some of the most powerful creatures in hell.

So it was like that for years. As you were walking around the death and carnage you didn't mean to cause. Amidst all the screams you heard a TV playing. You check it out and it was some sort of ad. You recognized Angel from Val. Whenever Velvet was the one to show up at meetings she would always manage to bring up her and the other Vee's social media presence. Which with Val would involve his pornos. At least he's able to escape from that prick sometimes. Despite the glitch he was somehow causing and his face being hidden you also recognized Alastor.

You didn't know much about your colleague's personal lives. You barely showed up at the meeting but this piqued your interest. But it was quickly cut off by the news.

"Breaking news in hell today!" One of the broadcasters, Katie, spoke, "We have just received word from the Heaven embassy that the next extermination is happening sooner than ever before!"

Well fuck you guess. You were never worried about exterminations. Not only did you have a safe area then none of the angels seemed to visit, if they killed you you'd be out of this dumpster fire. Granted you could go to an even worse dumpster fire but you didn't know that for sure.

But you were interested in whatever that first ad was for. Granted everyone was panicking so it wasn't like you could ask anyone about it. However, the news cut right back to the ad.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!" A woman with an x over her eye spoke.

It cut to Husk (Who you've only heard snippets about from Alastor.) and Angel.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel." Husk's eyes lingered below him. Clearly reading a script. If his eyes didn't give it away his monotone voice certainly did. "Can I help you with anything?"

"I've been a bad boy. And I need a big strong daddy to put me in my place." Angel moaned. There was a slight sigh coming from behind the camera. Okay ew. You were not trying to see porn while going for a walk. Just as you were about to walk away Angel spoke up again, "On the path to redemption!"

Oh! That sounded... quite nice actually. You didn't exactly believe in the idea. But a chance to get away and even a chance to redeem yourself was a very nice idea.

You went to the hotel's door and racked against the door. Which was kind of stupid. Hotel doors don't need to be knocked on but it still felt like the right thing to do. The fucking princess of hell herself opened the door with a somewhat panicky smile plastered on her face.

"Hello-" She bit her lip "One second." She left but left the door open a creek, "Vaggie it happened again!" She yelled you could hear the rest of what she was saying but you saw a red glow approaching the door.

Before you knew what was happening your hand (and whole body was being shaken by the Radio demon himself, "Why hello y/n!" His staticky voice greeted, "Are you here to watch this wayward adventure fail as well? Or perhaps you aim to entertain it?" Alastor unnerved you. While you were the same on power level he was unpredicted any vengeful thoughts he had were hidden behind his smile.

He was gently pushed away by Charlie. "So sorry about the wait, just wasn't expecting another powerful overlord." She vaguely gestured to Alastor, "So do you want to check in?" Her voice was cautiously hopeful.

"Yep!"

Her eyes turned the size of saucers, "OK! Great so um sorry I'm just so excited! You can go choose your room! A few are already occupied by our guests and staff! But it's pretty easy to tell which rooms are taken." She rambled. As she guided you through the hotel the woman with an x over her eye pointed a spear at you as you passed by.

A short one-eyed girl scattered around. The exact opposite of how she was in the ad. She stabbed a bug with a whole knife getting dangerously close to Husk being at the end of her knife in the process.

Angel glanced at you and any color his already pure white face had drained. Uh oh.

"One minute." You said and walked over to the spider demon, "Fyi just to let you know I also want to kill Val. Just say the word and I might finally be able to go through with it." You said in a hushed voice. He was still tense but visibly relaxed.

You soon found a room and got somewhat set up. You'd have to bring some stuff from your house tomorrow. But today you decided to just collapse onto your bed. While your first impressions weren't of a super chill place, it did give the impression of a family. Maybe your life wouldn't be so much of a living hell here.

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is thankful every day of the year, but over Thanksgiving weekend, you and the Nugget give him even more than he anticipated. When he takes you back to the scene of the crime for your first wedding anniversary, he shares more of his notebook with you.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, cum play, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Why is it so crowded?" you whined, pushing a shopping cart behind Bradley as he wound his way through Costco on Monday.

"Because everyone is doing the same thing we're doing," he said as he grabbed whichever turkey he could get his hands on. "Shopping for Thanksgiving dinner."

You were exhausted and tired of getting jostled around. You were getting close to the end of your second trimester, and you felt like you could curl up in the shopping cart and fall asleep. Today was also the first day of your annoying new routine of visiting the ladies' locker room after work to change out of your maternity tent. At least you got to talk to Phoenix for a few minutes. She even made a fuss over your belly and called you cute. But there was no way you were leaving base in your new uniform.

When you looked down at yourself in your stretchy tank top, even you could tell that your sore boobs looked bigger. You caught Bradley eyeing them up so frequently, it was almost comical. When you called him out on it, he would grunt some sort of response while his cheeks turned pink. And every time you let him take your bra off and do as he pleased, he was a rock hard, needy mess almost instantly. But he was also gentle and tentative, almost bringing you to orgasm with his mouth on your breasts alone.

You moaned softly, and he turned to look at you with wide, brown eyes. "Excuse me?" he asked, eyebrows shooting up. "You okay back there?"

"Yeah," you whispered breathlessly. "You know how much I love my Costco Daddy." Now you were thinking about the time you earned a spanking during one of your shopping trips, and you didn't know how you were going to make it home when your husband looked so fucking good in his uniform.

"What did you call me?" he asked playfully, his hands coming up to his narrow waist as you slumped against the cart and whined.

"Costco Daddy." This time you said it loud enough that a few people turned to see what you were talking about, but you didn't care. 

"I guess we should hurry up then," Bradley remarked casually, but that was pretty impossible to do when the store was as crowded as it was. You watched Bradley fight his way through the produce area so he could grab carrots and sweet potatoes, wearing a little smirk on his face the whole time. You tried to push him with the cart when he was taking too much time picking out a can of cranberry sauce, and he just chuckled but didn't budge at all.

"Roo," you whined softly.

"This is the last thing we need to get," he said, and then he made things even worse by standing behind you with his hands on your belly while you waited in line to pay.

His lips were soft on your ear and the side of your jaw as you gripped the shopping cart. His body was pressed against yours as he asked, "Is she moving around right now, Sweetheart?"

He'd been on a quest to feel the baby doing her somersaults, but he came up empty handed every time. "I think she's sleeping," you told him as his big palms moved around slowly. "You'll feel her soon. She loves it when you're around."

Bradley let his chin rest on your shoulder, and you were treated to his deep, needy sigh. You had no doubt where he was looking as the line started to move up and his thumbs grazed the undersides of your breasts. "As soon as we get home, your shirt is coming off."

"You're obsessed, Roo."

Even when it was your turn to pay, Bradley kept his eyes on you as he loaded up the cart again. The two of you walked to the far side of the parking lot where he insisted on leaving the new Bronco so it didn't get dinged up. Then he got you buckled in while he unloaded everything into the back, but you surprised him by climbing right onto his lap as soon as he was in the driver's seat.

He let his hands settle on your hips with a big smile on his face as you straddled his right thigh. "I don't know what you're planning on doing here, Baby Girl, but it's not quite dark out yet. Not that I mind. I know how much you like it in public."

But you started rubbing yourself against his leg, and he got quiet, his smile remaining intact. You tried your best to keep some space between his upper body and yours while you rubbed your pussy against your husband with two pairs of uniform pants between you. The friction was delicious, and Bradley leaned back in the seat with his hands still on your hips as you whispered, "I couldn't wait until we get home."

He helped guide you along as the rolling motion as you rode him brought you closer to where you needed to be. "I can wait until we get home," he rasped. "But when we do, I want you on your knees with those tits covered in my cum."

"Bradley!" you whined as his hands eased up your sides, grazing your breasts, goading you on faster.

"Take your time," he whispered, and you could feel how hard he was getting. But you didn't even need more time when he looked and smelled so damn good. Your hands settled on his insignia pins and name tag as you ground down harder and moaned his name.

He let you collapse against his body as you came, whining about how horny you were all the time right now until your orgasm started fading away. Then his hand slid down and squeezed your butt and he whispered, "Let's get home. Now."

Bradley helped you buckle in again, and then he took your hand in his as he started quickly driving home. When he needed both hands, he set yours down right on his hard length. You were still in a daze as you stroked him, working him up and making him throb. He grunted your first name which brought you back down enough to unzip his pants as he turned down the block toward the craftsman.

"You still want me on my knees?" you asked a little breathlessly as you got your hand around him, and Bradley's deep chuckle in response gave you goosebumps.

"There is only ever going to be one answer to that question, my love."

You were practically drooling at his words as he parked in the driveway and carefully withdrew your hand from inside the fly of his pants. Then he hopped out of the Bronco with his pants unzipped and his shirt an untucked mess before helping you carefully down onto the driveway. He gave you one of the sweetest kisses of your life which surprised you before he laced his fingers with yours and led you up the walkway at a leisurely pace. 

Once the front door was unlocked, he leaned in, kissed you one more time, his hard cock brushing your pregnant belly through his pants. "Yes, Baby Girl," he rasped. "I still want you on your knees."

You couldn't help but smile as you held his hand a little tighter, and he helped you get into position to give him exactly what he wanted. After he shut the door, you yanked your shirt and bra off and listened to him groan so loudly, Tramp briefly ran into the living room and back out again. After you got Bradley's pants and boxer briefs down around his boots, he lasted about thirty seconds between your lips before he was panting and stuttering.

"B-Baby Girl. Sweetheart." You let him jerk himself off, coating your chest in cum, just like he'd done in the garage last week. Just like he'd done in the shower two days ago. Then you let him play with it, making an even bigger mess before he helped you get cleaned up.

You had the distinct feeling that if you wanted anything in the whole world right now, all you'd need to do is ask him for it while topless, and it would be yours.

---------------------------

"I'm trying my best," Bradley growled. The turkey he randomly grabbed at Costco on Monday while you were a horny mess was huge, and it didn't really fit in your fancy baking dish thing.

"How am I supposed to stuff it?" you asked him, pouting in your sports bra, underwear, and I Love Meat apron. He was about an inch from telling you he didn't even care about the turkey and wanted to stuff you instead, but he knew you'd make a face at him since company was coming over. Not that he thought Jake Seresin counted as company. Now if your parents were here today, sure, he'd be on his best behavior. But Jake? Nope.

He shoved the turked into the baking dish and said, "That's as good as it's gonna get. Stuff it, and I'll lift it into the oven for you." 

He kissed your cheek and retreated to the bedroom where he wanted to go over his list one more time, just to make sure he knew what he had to do before Saturday. As he pulled the sheet of paper from his nightstand drawer, he sat on the edge of the bed. He had to find a way to sneak a cake into the house tomorrow and hide it from you. That was going to be challenging. There was also the matter of hiding all of the flowers if he decided to pick them up ahead of time.

"Shit," he muttered, remembering he needed to get the non-alcoholic champagne down from the torn apart attic sometime tomorrow. Maybe you wouldn't notice him messing around up there if he did it later when you were in the shower.

"Bradley!" you called out, your voice echoing down the short hallway. "Come here!"

He was on his feet instantly, heart pounding as he let the paper fall to the floor while he raced for you. "What happened?" he called out, panicking even more when he saw you doubled over as he reached the kitchen. "What happened?" He had his hands wrapped around your biceps, heart climbing up into his throat. You finally looked up at him as you gasped and started to untie your apron.

"She's moving so much right now," you told him, and it took him a second to realize you were smiling as the apron hit the floor. "Maybe you'll be able to feel her."

"Oh," he gasped, relief flooding his system even as he sank to his knees in front of you. When he placed his big hands on your belly and looked up at your perfect face, you slid his hands further to your right side. Bradley leaned in and kissed your wedding rings as you guided him along, and that's when he felt her.

"Holy shit!"

"Yeah?" you asked, voice laced with giddy excitement. "You felt the kick?"

"Yes," he whispered in amazement. Then she did it again, and he scooted himself a little closer, pressing his lips to the spot next to your belly button. "Hey, little Nugget." He was met with another thump that left him smiling. "I love you."

You laughed as you ran your fingers through his hair and let him rest his cheek against your soft, warm skin. "She's doing somersaults now," you told him, and he could feel something like a soft squirm against his hand. "She gets really excited when she hears you."

"Is that true?" he asked softly. "I get excited when I even think about you." He stayed there for a very long time, letting you adjust his hand placement over and over so he could feel her, and he never wanted to let go. He thought about taking you to bed so he could lay next to your belly, but he was afraid his daughter might get too cozy and settle in for a nap.

Bradley was running his nose along in a little pattern where the baby was kicking when you eventually removed your fingers from his hair and said, "I need to start peeling the potatoes."

"I can do that," Bradley replied, and he felt another hard thump. "You're right, Sweetheart. I swear she knows it's me," he whispered, looking up at you again.

"She absolutely does, Roo."

After that, he had his hands all over you. When you left the kitchen to finally get dressed, he went along, too. When you went back to the kitchen to check on the turkey, he stood behind you with one hand wrapped around you. If you found it annoying, you didn't say a word about it, thankfully. When Jake, Cat and Jeremiah arrived, Bradley had his arm slung over your shoulders as you walked to the front door.

"Is she moving around right now?" he asked softly.

You smiled up at him. "I think she's snoozing. I'll let you know when she's back at it again." Then you pulled the door open, and his peaceful little bubble felt like it had been burst as Jake walked in carrying several pies and some coleslaw.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Angel," the blonde said before kissing your cheek. Bradley rolled his eyes as Jake headed for the kitchen with a little grin on his face. A split second later, Cat came in, and then Bradley had his arms full of Jeremiah.

"He might need his diaper changed," Cat told him before she followed you to the kitchen as well. "Now let me finish cooking everything while you rest," she told you with a smile, and Bradley was happy someone who knew what they were doing was here to help you now. And he supposed that the next best thing after feeling his own baby kick was getting to hang out with Jeremiah. 

Jake was digging around in the refrigerator, and he pulled out two beers before nodding at Bradley. "Let's go see how the playset is looking, old man," he said, opening one of the cans and handing it to Bradley.

The playset was almost done, and Bradley would have probably worked on it a little bit more today, but he got so distracted following you around everywhere. "You know, I'm not that much older than you," he told Jake as he carted Jeremiah over to look at the slide.

But Jake didn't seem to be in a teasing mood any longer as he looked at Cat's son in Bradley's arms. "You know... you never really told me how you did it."

"Did what?" Bradley asked, watching two little hands reach out toward the can of beer before he touched the rope ladder instead.

"How you got Angel to marry you. The more I think about it, the less sense it makes."

Bradley glanced back through the sliding glass door where you were sitting at the kitchen island while Cat started to boil the potatoes he'd peeled for you earlier. "You know, if you're going to be an asshole, you can just go home. I'll drive Cat and Jer back to Hondo's later."

"Shhh," Jake told him. "You can't say bad words in front of him. He's learning how to talk now."

"Sorry," Bradley whispered to the little boy who was all smiles. Then Jake's words really started to sink in as he studied Jeremiah's dark eyes and sipped his beer. "You want them to be your family."

Jake was pacing around the patio, rubbing his temple with his fingers. "Of course I do. But she won't go for it. Every time I bring it up, she has some sort of excuse. Last night, after I told her how much I love her, she tried to tell me that I'll grow tired of them and want my freedom."

"Damn," Bradley muttered. 

"What did I tell you about the bad words?" Jake snapped. 

"Sorry." Bradley watched him pace while he thought about how he proposed to you in a dirty storage unit surrounded by cardboard boxes and ugly antique furniture. "I don't know how I got her to marry me, Jake. All I know is as soon as I was holding the engagement ring, I needed it to be on her finger. Like suddenly there was no time to waste."

Bradley knew Jake would be a good dad. He obviously loved Jeremiah. But their conversation was cut short as you poked your head outside and said, "Roo? Will you come help me set the table?"

"I'm coming, Baby Girl."

------------------------

Thanksgiving dinner turned out fantastic with some help from Cat. You saw how comfortable the other woman looked in the kitchen, so you just sat down and let her work. And while everything was delicious, nobody batted an eyelash when you made yourself some carrot sticks to dip into hot sauce. And then you covered your turkey in hot sauce. And you dipped your stuffing in hot sauce.

You were helping Bradley clean up before dessert when you said, "Oh! She's kicking again!"

He basically tossed everything into the sink and came running for you with wide eyes. "Where is she?" he asked softly, and you placed his hands for him. A second later, after you kissed the few silver hairs at his temple, he turned his head to smile at you while he said, "There she is."

"I want to feel the baby," Jake said, as he carried more dishes into the kitchen. The way Bradley pulled you in a little closer to him was almost comical; it wasn't like Jake of all people was going to hurt you.

"Just one little kick," Bradley insisted, and you reached out for Jake's hand. But as soon as he was touching you, the baby stopped her round of somersaults.

"I don't feel anything," Jake drawled, moving his hand slightly.

You shrugged and said, "She really seems to like Bradley's voice the most."

You watched your husband absolutely strut back into the dining room with a pie in each hand after that. And he was still grinning as he ate three slices. Even after your company left for the night with containers of leftovers, he looked smug. As soon as he got you snuggled up in bed, he propped his head on his elbow next to your belly and whispered, "You like Daddy's voice the most, huh?"

She seemed to respond by squirming a little bit, and you had to roll your eyes. "Of course she does. So do I."

He smiled up at you before kissing your belly and pulling your shirt down. "I'm going to try to finish the Nugget playset tomorrow, and then Saturday is my favorite day of the year."

"Our anniversary," you whispered with a yawn.

"The first of hopefully a hundred."

You were sound asleep before you could respond. Most of Friday was spent feeding Bradley little snacks while he worked in the yard and shopping online for nursery decor.

"Oh, this looks really cute," you said with a smile as you held up your phone. He came running over to see what you found, only to be annoyed by the U.S. Army themed baby bedding. "It was a joke!" you insisted before switching tabs to the one you actually liked. "This one is not a joke."

Bradley's face lit up as he looked at the pastel airplanes and soft blue and white clouds. "That's perfect," he whispered. "Just what our little girl needs."

"It's kind of expensive."

He just shook his head as he continued to look at your phone screen. "The Nugget wants it."

You were afraid that was going to become his new mantra. The baby had a full nursery worth of items purchased by the end of the day. But Saturday was a different story. When you woke up late and stretched, you realized you were in your bed alone. On your anniversary. Upon further inspection, you realized Bradley wasn't even home at all.

"What the fuck," you muttered to yourself as you stood in the kitchen. Your intention had been to make him stuffed French toast and coffee. You were even going to arrange some fruit in the shape of a heart on the plate, but now that he wasn't here, your idea just felt stupid. You got the fruit out anyway and dipped it in hot sauce for yourself instead, and after polishing off almost an entire carton of raspberries, you heard Tramp run for the front door.

Bradley rushed in wearing snug jeans and one of his tropical print shirts. His aviators were perched low on his nose, and he was holding a bouquet of yellow roses with a smile on his face. You were still wearing his ratty, old shirt, and you didn't even wash your face yet, but he took you gently in his arms and kissed you like you were the most incredible thing he'd ever seen.

"Happy anniversary, Baby Girl," he muttered against your lips. His body was warm from the sun, and he smelled fresh and delicious, and you melted into his arms. 

"Where were you? I was going to make you breakfast. Well, lunch I guess at this point."

Bradley cupped your cheek gently in his hand and said, "I had to get a few things ready for this afternoon."

"Right," you said, perking up a bit. "You said we're going back to the scene of the crime."

"We sure are," he confirmed, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "And I just want everything to be perfect for my girls."

You moaned softly. It was actually impossible to be annoyed with him when he was so sincere with pink tinted cheeks and flowers in his hand. "I'll make you some French toast," you whispered, and of course you ended up arranging the fruit into a heart. And of course you sat on his lap while he devoured two servings of the meal you made for him. 

"When are we going to the crime scene?" you asked as you brushed his hair back from his forehead.

He rubbed your belly and checked the time. "We can leave pretty soon. Go for a drive maybe? Then I'll surprise you with how romantic I am."

You kissed his nose and said, "I'm not even sure exactly what the scene of the crime is. That could be a lot of different places actually. Maybe the parking garage at the airport?" you asked with a raised eyebrow. "Or my old apartment?"

Bradley shook his head. "I don't think I could get Maria and Bob to stop fucking long enough for us to stop by there." You burst into laughter as he added, "But you'll find out shortly."

You let him keep his secrets as you finally got yourself ready to go out. You managed to squeeze into one of your sundresses, but you paired it with a zip up sweatshirt just in case it got chilly later on. When Bradley helped you into the blue Bronco and buckled you in, you asked, "Why does it smell so good in here?" The backseat and tailgate areas were covered with sheets and blankets so you couldn't even see anything, but it smelled sweet and flowery. 

"Don't worry about that yet," he rasped with a satisfied little smile on his face. "Just let me show my wife how much I love her." 

When he started the engine, he had already queued up the enormously long playlist of songs that reminded him of you, and you got to listen to him singing softly as he drove up the coast a little ways while the sun dipped lower in the sky. It was the perfect November day with a few clouds and warm air, and you held his hand while he started to head south again just as your stomach growled between songs. 

"You're hungry," he remarked, and you started hoping he had something planned involving food. "I made dinner, and we'll be there soon."

"You made dinner?" you asked, panic lacing your voice. "What did you make? Is everything okay?"

Bradley started laughing as he turned left. "Okay, made is a strong word. It didn't involve actually cooking anything, I'm sorry to say. But I wanted it to be edible for you."

You sighed and eased back in your seat, and that's when you realized where you were and what he had planned. "Roo," you whispered as the parking lot came into view. There were some orange cones lined up at both entrances, and when he pulled up and hopped out to move them, you read the permit attached to one of them.

SPECIAL PRIVATE EVENT

CITY OF SAN DIEGO

NOVEMBER 28

Then he hopped back in, pulled into the narrow parking lot that overlooked the cliffs beach, and he backed into a parking spot. He looked at you as he shifted into park and said, "The scene of the crime, Baby Girl. You stole my fucking heart."

You loved him so much, it was hard to put into words. "I wonder how many times I've kissed you since then," you whispered as you crawled toward him. "Since the first one, right here in this parking spot."

"Millions, probably. Could use a few more though." He was grinning as he patted his lap, and you were there in an instant. "Happy anniversary."

His words were muffled by your lips, and even with your growing belly, you seemed to fit perfectly against him. Bradley's big hand ran up your thigh and underneath your little dress, fingers stroking your skin with reverence as he parted your lips with his and tasted your tongue.

"I love you, Bradley."

The loud growl of your stomach left him laughing even as his hand made its way up to the lace trim of your underwear. He patted you on the butt and popped his door open. "Let me feed you and the Nugget dinner."

You eased yourself down onto the pavement, and Bradley followed you. When he opened the back door and pulled the blanket off the seat, you found a picnic basket, a cooler and a bakery box. When he dropped the tailgate and helped you climb in so you were overlooking the ocean, he pulled a sheet away to reveal probably hundreds of colorful roses, but most of them were yellow.

Tears filled your eyes as he ran around and unpacked dinner which consisted of carrot sticks, hot sauce, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. "I made your sandwich to your exact preference," he promised, also procuring a bottle of non-alcoholic pink champagne from the cooler. "And this is even safe for the Nugget."

You tried not to cry as you sat amongst the sweet smelling flowers with your sandwich in your hand and music playing softly. Bradley hopped in as well, and you felt the Bronco dip slightly as he settled in next to you with his own sandwich. He kissed your cheek just as the sun hit the horizon. You turned so your lips met his briefly before you said, "I'm obsessed with you."

"I'm obsessed with both of you."

---------------------------

The sun had set, and you were laying with your head in Bradley's lap, skimming the Nugget notebook which he'd brought along for a very specific reason. You read some of his musings out loud, often laughing at what he had written in there. He let his fingers drift along your belly while My Girl played from the front seat speakers, and he hummed along, occasionally pausing to feel his daughter kick.

Eventually his hand was under the fabric of your dress again, skimming along your embroidered Mrs. Bradshaw underwear, making you gasp softly before continuing up to your belly. You and he were alone in this parking lot where you got married, which was already pretty secluded on a regular day, but the permit ensured he could touch his wife like this to his heart's content.

The soft purple sky was pretty, but it had nothing on you as you looked up at him with wide eyes. "You wrote down some baby names," you sighed softly.

"I did." This was the reason he brought the notebook along. This was something he wanted to talk about when there were no other distractions except for him and you. "What do you think of them?" he asked, heart beating a little faster as he thought about his unborn child.

You read each of the girls' names softly out loud, and of course he still liked all of them, but when you got to his favorite, you read it and paused. "Rose." Bradley nodded, and you smiled, reaching to run your fingers along the plethora of soft petals that filled the back of the Bronco. "I think you like that one the most."

Bradley swallowed hard, holding his hand in place with his palm covering your belly button. "Rose Bradshaw. Yeah, that's my favorite one."

"I like it, too," you whispered, biting your lip with your eyes closed as you set the notebook aside.

"Yeah? You do?" he asked hopefully. "Because it makes me think about how we listened to the song together. Roses. Before you fell in love with me."

You started to sit up, and he helped you. "I remember. You played it for me on the piano," you told him with a smile. "That was the night at the Hard Deck when I scared the other girls away from you, because I was so jealous. I wanted you all to myself."

Bradley's heart felt lighter than air as he collected you in his arms. "I was already falling in love with you," he promised. "You just took a little more coaxing."

As your lips ghosted over his, you whispered, "Rose. Rosie. Yeah. I love it."

-------------------------

Okay, so that's a throwback. I love little Easter eggs and throwbacks! The Nugget has a name! Thanks for reading! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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[tinytalkingtina]

Cool Whip

Rating M | WC 1330 | Ao3 link

Tags: getting together, first kiss, innuendo, bisexual steve and eddie, eddie speed-runs a sexuality crisis, inappropriate use of whipped cream, fast burn (these two have never gone slow in their lives), fade to black

Written for the STWG July 28 prompt "Oh. Oh."

Steve stared at Eddie in complete silence.

Eddie fidgeted under his gaze. “So. Perhaps. In this instance, giving into the gremlin that lives inside my head was not the best choice I could have made,” he said sheepishly.

“Really Edward. You don’t say.” Steve was still holding the incriminating weapon, had been since he confiscated it. Every so often he twirled it around in his hands.

“What if you uhhh, did it back to me? We’ll be even?” he offered. “Come on, it’s fine, I won’t even fight you on it!”

“Can’t do that because we’re at my house, not yours, and this was my last pair of clean pants and underwear. So, unless you want to walk around like Winnie the fucking Pooh for the rest of the night, maybe we don’t spray whipped cream down your jeans too.” 

Steve ran an agitated hand through his hair. “I’m going to go take a shower and wash this shit off of my junk now, ‘kay? Just put the ice cream back in the freezer, we can do a movie night together another time, I guess.” Disappointment was written all over his face. Oops, Eddie didn't realize how much he must have been looking forward to watching Raiders of the Lost Ark. 

As Steve turned around to go, Eddie knew he should let him. Unfortunately, Nosnum Eidde, the impulsive gremlin living in his brain, was still firmly in control.

“Wait, let’s not waste it. Let me clean you up!” He blurted out.

What?

“What?” Steve was staring again, this time with eyes wide in confusion.

“Let me…clean up the mess I made. On your body.”

“Eddie I really can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

It did sound like a joke didn’t it. But if it was a joke, why was the thought sending sparks of lighting along his spine. 

“I don’t. Don’t think I’m joking right now,” Eddie said slowly. “Give me a minute here.”

It wasn’t like his brain had a perfect track record when it let Nosnum have the wheel. Like those times it had told him that he could climb the tallest tree in the trailer park without getting stuck at the top, or point out how hypocritical O’Donnell was acting during class without getting detention. 

But it had also gotten things right on occasion. And with Steve standing so close, it was busy pointing out things Eddie hadn't thought about before: like for example, when Steve chewed on his lips in agitation, they became invitingly plump. And, despite the growing damp spot on the front, those jeans were still hugging Steve's ass perfectly. 

Perhaps most importantly, he wasn't rushing forward to punch Eddie's lights out for insinuating, well. He just stood there with a faint blush coloring his cheeks. In his house, a place currently unoccupied by anyone else, not even Robin. While wearing a shirt that was just on the wrong side of too tight with his hair coiffed for a night out and oh my G-d—

“Steve…was tonight supposed to be a date?” Eddie was shocked the question fell out of his mouth so steadily.

The blush on Steve's face grew darker. “I mean, sort of? Was getting mixed signals from you but—yeah.” He shrugged. “We haven’t been able to hang out one on one since I figured things out. Thought I’d see how tonight went before making a move.”

“Oh. You. You had a plan to seduce me.” Eddie wheezed a little. "You like me like that?"

“I uh, kind of put two and two together about a month ago. Had a really long talk with Robin, and turns out apparently normal men don't want to, you know, make out with their guy friends. Or imagine Harrison Ford holding a whip when he’s all sweaty and—wait, what about you, Mr. 'Propositioning My Friends To Use My Mouth?’ How long have you known?"

“About five minutes consciously.” Eddie said in a strangled voice. “Maybe ten if we consider what I did to your pants subliminal foreplay.”

Steve snorted. The gremlin in Eddie’s brain was convinced this made him even more attractive. Huh, maybe this had been going on for longer than he had realized, if a snort could set him off.

“Not really sure what submarines have to do with Cool Whip, but yeah we can probably count that. Welcome to the ‘part gay’ club man! You’re taking this really well, no offense.” Steve pat him on the back, the brief contact sending more sparks through his veins.

“Yeah, in 1985 I’d probably be doing something destructive right about now.” Eddie agreed. “But the me of 1987 can’t really muster up the energy for another panic attack after finding out about inter-dimensional portals or. You know. Everything else that happened.” Wow, real smooth Eddie, way to kill the mood of whatever fever dream was happening right now.

“Besides,” he tried for a joke. “1987 Eddie has a high school diploma. My brain’s so full of facts there’s no more room for anything else unless we shove it into my mouth and—“ His eyes widened as he caught up with what he was saying. He ducked to hide behind his hair. “Uh, what I mean was, um. Yeah I’ve got nothing to say for that.”

Steve gave another adorable snort and walked closer. “We may have to work our way up to that one, but maybe I could give your mouth something else to put its lips around instead?”

“Dude that doesn’t even—what, do you want me to vacuum seal your mouth with mine? How would we, wait, please tell me that isn’t the secret move you pulled that had all the cheerleaders in school losing their minds over?” Eddie squeaked out.

Steve blushed again even as he laughed. “First of all I only ever actually dated like, three people in high school, I wasn’t as big a slut as rumors made me out to be. And okay that might have sounded better in my head, but in my defense I kind of can’t think of anything but kissing you right now.”

Eddie rapidly nodded his head. “Yes, that’s. We should do that. Please.” After a slight roadblock in which both of them on autopilot tried to take the lead and grab the other’s face, they finally managed to actually press their lips against each other.

And oh. Oh. 

Look, this was far from Eddie’s first kiss. But this was the first time someone still wanted to kiss after seeing him eat eggs with maple syrup on them. Or who knew he secretly slept with his childhood stuffed animal. Because Steve wasn’t angling to get cheaper weed, or trying to get back at his parents by having Eddie knock on the door in his ripped jeans for a date.

Steve knew Eddie’s whole sordid history, and kissed him anyway, holy shit.

The kiss itself was short and relatively chaste. But after they stopped, Steve didn’t immediately lean out of Eddie’s space. Instead he gave the tip of Eddie’s nose a quick peck before resting their foreheads together. A giggle bubbled up out of Eddie’s chest.

Steve rapped his knuckles on Eddie’s head. “Everything okay up there?”

“You like me. Steeeeve Harringtonnn likes me!” Steve smiled softly at him as he cupped Eddie’s cheek in his palm.

“Yeah, I do, you big dork. And I’d love to continue this, but because someone sprayed whipped cream onto my junk, I need to go shower it off before it gets even crunchier because wow, this is uncomfortable.”

Now it was Eddie’s turn to blush. “Sorry about that again. But if you want maybe uh, maybe I could join you and actually help clean it off?”

Steve smirked. “I think we can work something out, yeah. Come on.”

Running up the stairs while Steve tightly held his hand, Eddie decided that perhaps this time, his brain might have had the right idea after all.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that evening:

Eddie: "Wait, I was flirting with you the entire Spring Break from hell wasn't I."

Steve: "That was point #1 on Robin's 'Eddie is into you' list."

Eddie: "In hindsight this does explain why she kept saying I could be myself around her last week. I used the opportunity to give her a 2 hour long intro to metal music lesson."

Steve: "Yeah, she said I still owe her for that."

@augustjustice @stellarspecter Come get your fast burn Steddie!

[haechoxo]

[9:58 pm]

haechan was a mess, the last encounter with you haunting his mind. no one had seen him in weeks, his self isolation driven by the humiliation and regret.

how’d he let it get this bad?

he’d ruined the one good thing he had going for him, the one thing that could've ever gone right in his life, gone.

he caused you so much pain, so much anguish, you were sick of him, quite literally. all for what? because he couldn’t admit he wanted to be yours?

it was his turn to make himself sick. walking down to the 7-Eleven for the fourth time this week to stock up on booze, he glanced out the storefront window as he waited for his transaction to complete, and spotted you, hand in hand with choi yeonjun, as you exited the bistro across the street.

it felt like a punch to the gut, a harsh reminder of what he lost. you deserved happiness, he knew that. but the thought of you finding it with someone else, while he suffered in his own misery, was almost too much to bear, he deserved this.

all haechan could do was sigh, grabbing his items and heading back to his apartment, a sort of walk of shame, as he dialed up minjeong.

“...hello? haechan? it’s almost 10 pm.” her deadpanned tone rang through the receiver.

“y-yeah… sorry,” he croaked. she was the first person to hear from him in a while, not that she of all people was worried. “just wondering if you were maybe free tomorrow, just to hang out… i guess.”

minjeong only sighed. “listen, haechan, i don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“o-oh, yeah, i guess… i guess you're right.”

“it’s not you! well– no, yeah, it is you,” ouch, “but we both know it just wouldn’t have worked out, right? you’re too focused on y/n, and we were both clearly just using each other as a distraction.” he could only listen as she went on, too afraid to say anything, to face the truth.

“the same reason you and i would never work out is the same reason mark and y/n won’t work out. we don’t have feelings for each other, haechan. it was never there.” he sucked in a breath.

“you gotta figure yourself out. we both know you can do better.” the line went dead.

haechan slumped against his front door, the weight of minjeong's words crashing down on him. the silence of his empty apartment echoed his loneliness, the low light from the streetlamp outside mocking him as he sat there. every sip of alcohol burned down his throat, but it didn’t numb the ache in his chest. the empty bottles around him were a testament to his attempts to drown out the guilt, but no amount could wash away the regret. he needed to change, to make things right, but where could he even start? he replayed your last conversation in his mind, your tear-streaked face, the hurt in your eyes. how had he been so blind?

unlocking his phone to scroll through his unopened messages, stumbling on his chats, or lack thereof, with you. they’d been dry, barren of any feelings for weeks. and it was his doing.

the unopened voicemails, mostly from jaemin about missing cafe dates and more of johnny’s parties, but there was a new one he hadn’t noticed before.

from mark.

hesitantly he pressed play, mentally bracing for the new lecture he was about to endure.

”hey man, uh— i’m not calling to apologize or anything, just so you know, i don’t feel bad for the things i said, neither does jun. i’m still really mad at you, we both are, but you're still our friend just as much as y/n is, even she’s a little worried, renjun told her not to be and i probably shouldn't have told you but whatever. the guys have been asking about you and no one really has an answer. uhm,” mark clears his throat, “jeno said he saw you outside 7-Eleven a couple nights this week already, smoking a new pack of cigarettes each time…” he sighs, pausing for a moment. haechan can feel the lump forming in his throat from the embarrassment.

“dude just because we ‘sided’ with y/n, doesn’t mean we don’t care about you and your well being anymore. obviously you feel stupid finally, and you clearly know you were wrong, but you’re going about things the wrong way, again. you can’t keep living like this, hurting the people you care about, hurting yourself, in the process.” he pauses for a bit, and haechan thinks maybe the message had ended like that, “whatever, uh, i don’t know what else i’m supposed to say bro, just let us know you’re okay, i guess, bye.” the beep signaling the end of the voicemail rings loudly against his ear, sighing shakily as he shut his phone off.

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a/n ; this one took waaaay longer than anticipated,, i just wasnt sure how well id be able to convey his feelings as well as mark’s lovely words since I HATE HIS STUPID ASS RN 💔