#yeah I don’t see us being super busy today

[bitchapalooza]

Just two days ago we were in the late 60s wtf man 😭

[maybankswhore]

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄.

summary: even though jj refuses to admit his feelings for you— he doesn’t want anyone else to have you.

warnings: cursing

prompt: “why are you mad?” “i’m not mad , i just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

The dynamic between you and JJ was undoubtedly strange. You’d two hold hands , hug for longer than ‘friendly’ hugs usually went for , have sleepovers where you’d cuddle and kiss his cheek. It was like a relationship without the title and without the kissing and sappy lover girl esqe commitment.

But it started to get hurtful. To be the girl that was always there , the only girl that was ever there , and still be seen as nothing more than just a friend. God , how you absolutely hated using the word ‘friend.’

There was hookup after hookup , one after the other. JJ would tell you all about them , seeing nothing wrong in confiding his deepest thoughts with his ‘best friend.’ It was harmless in his mind. If you were too hook up with anyone , he’d want to hear about it. I mean— it’s not like there were guys lining up for you at the door. You were stagnant and clearly into JJ so most guys didn’t bother trying. So while JJ figured he’d be okay with hearing about it— it turned out to make him feel the complete opposite.

All four Pogue’s were sitting around the fire in John B’s backyard as you sat there bashfully , remembering your work shift earlier that morning.

It had started like any other day— the same old faces that come for the same old cup of coffee. Some were a bit less frequent and the tips were all in the same. Business wasn’t necessarily ‘booming’ but it was a moderately profitable day. Today had seemed like any other day— until it wasn’t.

A boy who was not much older than you were had walked in and you swore your heart stopped. There wasn’t many people you looked twice at , beings that you suffered with the cruelty of unrequited love. But this one had made you look twice. His hair was shaggy brown , stopping right above his eyebrows. His green eyes seemed kind , the minute he had mumbled ‘hello’ to you.

You were surprised he asked for your number. The banter between the two of you , and how charming he was seemed to brighten your morning just a bit— and since JJ hadn’t seemed to be confessing his undying love for you any time soon , it seemed to be the right time to try and put yourself out there.

“No way you actually gave some random guy your number.” JJ scoffed from the side of you. He wasn’t sure why hearing you talk about another guy that way made him feel so. . . mad. Sure he cared about you , but never really paid attention to what kind of care it was. He always chalked it up to knowing you his whole life , declaring you his bestfriend for life. But watching the way your eyes danced amongst the flame with a certain girlish glow , his heart beat faster than he had ever felt before.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay and? It’s not like you don’t give out your number at every boneyard party.” You defended yourself.

“She’s right.” Pope pointed at her.

“Yeah I think it’s sweet.” Kiara gushed , hyping it up more than it really was. She knew JJ had a crush on you— anyone with two eyes could see that. He was just too stupid to bother realizing it. “It’ll be like those movies where the girl falls for the guy from the coffee shop.” She placed a hand on her heart dramatically. “That’s like , super romantic.”

“I know!” You sighed dreamily. You had always been such a romantic. Reading , writing , watching it. Those silly little cliche book plots coming to life.

JJ rolled his eyes. “It’s not that romantic.”

“Why’re you being such a hater right now?” You asked JJ , crossing your arms over your chest annoyed. “You should be happy for me! Stuff like this never happens to me.”

JJ began to think back over the years before realizing that you were right. You were always with him or the other Pogue’s and when there were parties , he’d find some girl to mess around with somewhere before finding you so you two could go home together like you always had. He hadn’t remembered the last time you even talked about liking someone. His chest began to ache at that— feeling bad. Of course he wanted romantic stuff to happen for you so why did he feel so defensive about it? Sighing , he shook his head of the confusing feelings. “You’re right , I’m sorry. What was his name?”

He swallowed down whatever he thought he was feeling , doing what he did best ; ignoring the problem until it eventually went away. Because he couldn’t think of you like that. . . The two of you were just friends. You always had been— right?

John B and Pope shared a knowing look. You smiled obliviously and continued.

“Nate.”

“Nate?” John B asked with his face turning red.

“Yeah?”

“As in Nate Montero?” Pope pressed further.

JJ shifted in his seat uncomfortably , looking at you. “As in the guy who cut my hair in Kindergarten?!”

You covered your mouth as you gasped , remembering how much JJ had cried because some kid on the playground cut a chunk of his hair off. The name did seem familiar to you at the time but you hadn’t even remembered then. JJ’s face was scrunched up with disgust while the Pogue’s doubled over into laughter. How ironic.

“It was a long time ago!” You groaned.

“I don’t give a shit! That little bastard cut my hair. The hair I had been growing for years.” He threw his hands up in the air. “You can’t go out with him.” JJ said immediately with his nose turned in the air.

“Oh yes I can.”

JJ raised his eyebrows at you , taken aback by the seriousness in your voice. Something bubbled inside of him— something he couldn’t quite figure out. Whatever it was , though , he didn’t like it. “That’s like a betrayal!” He said after a few seconds.

“John B literally dates Sarah Cameron!” You pointed out , giving him a soft smile of apology when he shot you a look. “Sorry but it’s true.”

“She isn’t wrong.” Kiara chirped up.

“You’re literally friends now!” Scoffed John B.

“Yeah— now.” You pointed out. “But at first there was hella beef that was deeper than getting your hair snipped in Kindergarten.”

John B groaned. “Can we not bring me up into this? This is between you and JJ.”

“There’s nothing between me and JJ—” you ignored the way your stomach began to hurt at that. The words only fueling your desire to see the guy , Noah , from the coffee shop again. “I’m seeing him.”

“Y/N this conversation isn’t over!” JJ called after you once you picked up your beer can and started walking towards the house. You didn’t bother looking back , throwing him the middle finger as you disappeared behind the doors.

JJ’s eyes turned to slits and looked at the Pogue’s with an annoyed expression. “Can you believe her?”

“Believe what? That she finally finds a guy attractive other than you?” Kiara folded her arms across her chest. “If you aren’t going to be with her then let someone else who wants to be and be happy for her.”

JJ furrowed his eyebrows at Kiara. He glanced at Pope and John B before looking back at her. “Y/N/N does not find me attractive.” He waved her off.

“Oh please.” Pope muttered under his breath.

“I say we just let this play out.” John B stretched out with a yawn.

“This could end badly—” Pope pointed out.

“Or JJ will finally get his head out of his ass.” Kiara snorted.

JJ stood up in front the Pogue’s with an uneasy look. “I don’t know what you’re all talking about but the only way this ends badly is if Y/N decides to go ahead with that guy. He’s bad news.” He huffed , running back into the Chateau.

“He’s so jealous.” John B smirked while shaking his head.

“Very.”

It had been very tense between the two of you. You were so mad at him for thinking he had any right to tell you who you could or couldn’t date— especially after years of pining after him , and watching him go through girl after girl without so much as glancing your way. You weren’t going to keep hoping for someone to look at you anymore.

Nate had texted you to meet up and you did. It was a nice date , nothing too fancy or mind blowing. Just a simple date. One that ended in a small goodbye kiss on John B’s front porch— the place you normally stayed on on the weekends when your parents were out and about , barely thinking twice about you.

You were glimmering when you walked back in. You figured the Pogue’s would be in the backyard like they always were , so you breezed past the living room and into the kitchen for a glass of water. Your thoughts were everywhere because you did like Nate , and the kiss left you breathless— but it wasn’t like what you thought it would be. Though , none of the past kisses ever were. There was always something missing , making you rethink them.

“Oh so the traitor is back.” JJ strolled into the kitchen without looking at you , his tone hard.

This had been the first time in the past two days he bothered talking to you. You figured he was just pissy you decided to go out with Nate after all , despite the silly Kindergarten incident.

“Why are you mad?” You put down your water bottle and stepped in front of him so he couldn’t look away from you.

“I’m not mad. I just think you could choose better people to kiss.” JJ said. His fingers dancing towards the side of her face.

You felt your breath catch in your throat. Pulling your face away from his hand , you sighed. “If this is about what happened in fricking Kindergarten—”

JJ grabbed your face in his hands , your cheeks hollowing out between your teeth as he did so. You looked at him through fluttering eyelashes , your cheeks burning up. “This isn’t about what happened.” He murmured to you.

This whole conversation had him thinking. That feeling he was feeling— it wouldn’t go away. He had tossed and turned all night that night because his stomach was so sick thinking about you with someone else. He didn’t know why it never occurred to him that you’d eventually find someone else. He didn’t know why he wasted away all this time being with girls who didn’t mean anything. JJ wanted to kiss you. And to hold you like more than a friend. He didn’t want you with Nate— or with anyone. And he felt so bad about never realizing it , and always pushing away those feelings you’d make him feel because he was scared to lose you.

But he couldn’t lose you to someone else.

“I don’t want you to kiss Nate. . .” JJ breathed , inching closer to your face. Your eyes were wide with shock as you watched him , your heart beating crazily in your chest. He still held your face in her hands , watching your reaction to his words. He only hoped that you’d want to kiss him back.

“JJ—” you mumbled. “What’re you—”

“I want to kiss you.” JJ told you , swiping his thumb on your bottom lip. “Only if you’ll kiss me.”

Your heart began to race as you studied JJ’s face. The crush that you had buried inside of you for years was bursting in your chest , making friends with the butterflies in your stomach. Your mouth went dry as you looked at him. JJ left go of the hold he had on you to simply cup your cheek.

“JJ don’t be mean.” You whispered. “If you’re doing this just because I went out with Nate—”

“This isn’t because of Nate.” JJ cut you off. “Not completely , anyway. It was at the beginning but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. His hands on you.” His left hand slithered down to your waist , snaking around it. “Your lips on his.” His other hand pulled at your bottom lip again. “I got jealous.”

You stared at stunned. “Jealous?”

“I think I like you , Y/N.” JJ sighed to himself , looking at you sweetly. “And I think I’ve always known but I just ignored thinking it would go away.”

You swallowed thickly looking up at him. “Did it?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It didn’t.”

“Then. . .” you took a deep breath and stood taller , clearing your throat to sound more confident. “Then I think I want you to kiss me.”

With wild eyes , JJ was treading a line he wasn’t sure it was safe to cross. But the way his heart burned inside of his chest , his ears ringing and pulse getting faster— it would be worth whatever outcome if it meant he got to feel what it was like to kiss you. JJ got closer to you , so close that you felt his breath fan your face. “Do you think or do you know?”

Quietly you weighed your options in your head. There were so many things going through your mind , telling you a million different things. But the way you felt was telling you to kiss him. Finally. After all this time— you wanted to make him wait it out like you had for so long. But you couldn’t control yourself. “I know.” You took the initiative to connect your lips to his , tired of this waiting game. It was either now or never.

He kissed you back immediately. His hands finding home around your waist. His knees felt weak and your heart felt mushy. As your head tilted to the side , a sense of relief fell over you. This was it. This was why no other kiss had ever compared or felt like it mattered. Because it was JJ , it was always JJ.

He was your missing piece to it all.

JJ was the first to pull away , breathless. He felt crazed as he looked at you with eyes wild. Nothing had ever felt like this with him— no other girl could ever compare to you.

“Like I said. . . this ended badly!” Pope bursted out , practically falling out into the kitchen. Kiara and John B rolled their eyes at him.

“Finally!” Kiara groaned. “I was so sick of the sappy back and forth shit.”

“I for one , agree.”

You hid your face in your hands embarrassed while JJ smirked triumphantly. “I have a full head of hair and I got the girl.”

“I hate you.”

[headkiss]

not just on christmas

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s parents are coming home for the holidays and he’s in need of a fake date. who better than you, his best friend?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: steve’s parents (derogatory), negative comments about his job, fake dating, friends to lovers, christmas themes, fluff, first kiss!

a/n: i had lots of fun with this one and i hope u guys like it!!! merry christmas and happy holidays i hope they treat u all well <33 consider this my gift to you :D

༄

The phone ringing forces Steve out of bed. Floors cool on his feet, the air a chill on his bare chest, he rubs his eyes lazily and picks it up.

“Hello?” He clears his throat to get rid of the sleep in his voice.

“Steve, why do you sound tired, it’s nearly noon!”

It’s no surprise that the first words aren’t asking him how he is. He’s shocked she cared enough to pick up on the tone of his voice at all. “Hi, mom.”

He doesn’t even know where she’s calling from, doesn’t know what business trip they're on. He can’t remember the last time he got a phone call that wasn’t you, or Robin, or Dustin, or anyone else other than his parents.

Steve’s not even excited to be hearing from them, because it’s a reminder that they’re not around, that they haven’t forgotten about him, they just don’t care.

He wishes you were the one that called.

“Listen, sweetie, your dad and I are coming home for Christmas this year, isn’t that great?”

He deflates, “yeah. Super.”

“There’s a business event he wants to take you to. And we’ll find you a date,” there’s the catch. There’s always a catch. “You can make some connections, maybe get out of your job at that video store soon.”

The thing is, he actually likes working at Family Video, but he knows that doesn’t matter. Then there’s the topic of the girlfriend, or lack thereof. His parents are always nagging him about when he’ll settle down, grow roots, or something.

Maybe that’s why he says, “I can get my own date. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! She’ll have dinner with us, won’t she? What’s her name?”

Like an idiot, he says your name. The first one that came to his mind.

You’re his best friend, and it’s easy to let his thoughts drift to you. The problem is, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to you, how he can ask you to fake date him just to satisfy his parents for once.

If he wasn’t still on the phone, Steve would be groaning into a pillow right now.

“Okay, sweetie, your dad has a brunch we have to get to. We’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, mom. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs in relief. That feeling is quick to fade when he remembers that he had just named you his girlfriend in the midst of his phone call. He drops his face into his hands, runs them through his hair, and tries to figure out how the hell to bring up the subject with you.

To go along with that, he has to worry about his parents coming home. Though, can they really call it ‘home’ when they’ve been gone for so long? When they’ll leave again after a few days, a week at most?

Most people would be happy, excited, about their parents being around for the holidays. Steve’s not. He’d rather spend it how he has since the two of you became friends. Breakfast at your house with your family—who have become family for Steve, too—presents opened with scented candles burning and Christmas albums spun on the record player.

You went out of your way to include him, and he’s never felt so welcome in his life as he does when he’s with you.

At least, if you agree, you’ll be with him this year, too.

-

It’s the next day when Steve decides to bring it up. You’re at his house for movie night, which has become a weekly ritual for the two of you. He’s been trying to figure out what exactly to say since he hung up the damn phone. He’s given up and instead hopes it’ll come to him in the moment.

Today, Steve’s quiet, which is unlike him. You know something’s on his mind and you try to avoid asking him about it, trying to let him talk about it on his own time. It’s about halfway through the movie that you change your mind.

He didn’t complain when you showed up with your cheesy Christmas movie choice, he didn’t light-heartedly tease you about your outfit of choice (some festive patterned pajama pants and a sweater that’s so worn there are holes in the neckline), and the most unusual, he didn’t make a single joke or comment as the movie played.

He’s really, really quiet.

You pick up the remote and pause it, “what’s going on with you, Steve?”

He looks at you, catches your eye and sees nothing but genuine concern. Sometimes he hates the way you know him so well. He can never hide anything from you.

“What? Nothing.”

You blink at him, “come on.”

“Fine, okay. Just, don’t say anything until I’m done, please.”

“Okay,” you pretend to zip your mouth shut, ready to listen.

“My mom called yesterday and told me they’re coming home for Christmas, and that there’s this business thing they want me to go to, and that I need a date for it,” he scrubs a hand down his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And you know how they’re always on my ass about me being single and stuff so I kind of told her I already had a girlfriend, and maybe I told her that girlfriend is you.”

What?

There’s a lot to process there. Mostly the fact that out of all of the names he could have chosen, he said yours. You wait for him to explain some more, but he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a reply, so, your mouth is now unzipped.

“So, what exactly does that mean?”

He mutters a curse under his breath. “Um, so, I need you to pretend to be my actual girlfriend while they’re here.”

His use of the word ‘need’ is telling. Steve’s not one to ask for help, not even when he needs it the most but here he is, nervous and a little pink-cheeked, asking for your help.

You let the thought sit in your head for a bit. It’s not hard for you to want to agree. Steve’s your best friend, and you’d do pretty much anything for him. Though, that might also have to do with the fact that you’ve been in love with him for years.

You know more about his relationship with his parents then most do, so if you can make their visit more bearable for him in any way, why wouldn’t you?

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay? Like, you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m happy to help.”

That was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. You barely even questioned him before agreeing, and that’s not lost on him.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” he throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezes you to him in a side hug. “It’s only a few days, then we can go back to normal.”

“Easy peasy,” you say, reaching for the remote and hitting play.

Aside from your wanting to help him, to be there for him like you know he would for you, you’re also curious to see what it’s like to be with Steve that way, even if it’s fake. It’s hopeless, the way you love him, like the moon orbiting the earth around and around. Constant.

Sure, those feelings will probably only swell because of the fake relationship, but you’ve been housing them for long enough anyway.

What could go wrong?

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin says from the other side of a clothing rack, sifting through the pieces.

She’s the first, and only, person you told about the fake dating thing. Naturally, she decided she’d help you shop for a dress to wear to this business thing and talk about it at the same time.

The mall is decorated, garlands and lights strung, a big Christmas tree lit up in the middle of it all.

“It’s only a couple of days. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m talking about you being in love with him,” she deadpans.

“Robin, not so loud.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You know she’s being honest, and though the thought has been at the back of your mind, a whisper, you’d like to believe that you can handle a fake relationship without ruining things because of your big, big feelings.

“I spend time with him alone a bunch. It’s not that much different, okay?”

“Besides the fact that you’ll be calling him boyfriend and acting like it, too, you mean.”

Actually, you’ve been trying not to think about what exactly pretending to be his girlfriend entails. You don’t know if he’ll hold your hand, if he’ll hold you closer than he has before, if he’ll kiss you. You think it might be better to wait and see, to not let the possibilities eat at you.

“I know it sounds bad, but it’s Steve. Nothing major will happen. We’re friends and I’m helping him out.”

Robin’s in a tricky spot. She knows how you feel about Steve, obviously, and though he doesn’t see it yet himself, she knows that Steve feels the same, too. It’s taken a lot to hold herself back from speeding things along, and as much as she wishes this fake relationship plan might be a good push, things usually aren’t so easy.

She can also tell that there’s a lot you’re thinking but not saying, but instead of pushing it, she returns to looking at the dresses. It’s not long before she gasps, pulling one of the rack to show you.

“This one,” she says.

“I don’t know. That won’t look good on me.”

It’s pretty, though. You’ll give her that.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you. Will you at least try it on?” She wiggles the hanger in her hand, “for me?”

“Fine.”

You take it from her, walking back towards the fitting rooms with a grinning Robin in tow. She waits outside the door while you change into the dress.

Once it’s on, looking in the mirror, you don’t even know what to think. You’re not one to feel all that confident in what you wear, or in how you look, but this dress makes you feel pretty. Maybe you should make Robin pick out all of your clothes.

“Let me see!” Robin calls.

You step out of the changeroom, doing a shy little spin when she asks. She’s smiling proudly, like she knows she chose well (which she did). She can’t help but think of how Steve will react, because she knows he feels something for you, she can see it on his face everytime he talks about you. He’s just a dork and he doesn’t realize it. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“If Steve’s not already in love with you…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

If she does, your brain will conjure up way too many ideas of what could possibly happen. If Steve could really feel the same. If maybe he’ll feel those same butterflies in his stomach that you do, if his heart feels bigger when you’re around. In your dreams, he does.

“I’m trying to tell you you look hot!”

-

December twenty-third is the day that Steve’s parents come home as well as the night of the business event. You and Steve have tried to figure out how to act like a couple, quizzing each other on things you already know, setting loose boundaries, but you figure after knowing each other for so long, being so close, it won’t feel much different than now. Besides the extra touching, the possibility of kissing.

You’re already at his house when his parents get home, your makeup and outfit for tonight sitting in Steve’s room. The two of you linger near the front door waiting for their arrival, a nervous and jittery welcoming committee.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway grabs your attention. It’s a clapperboard snapping shut, marking the scene. Action.

“You ready, babe?” He holds out his arm for you to grab, and you do.

“Time to be the best couple ever,” you reply.

Steve grins at you. He has no idea how to thank you for agreeing to do this, how to even explain to you the relief you’re sure to bring. It’s one less thing for his parents to pick and pry at.

The door opens, and you can already feel a change in Steve’s demeanor. He’s standing straighter, stiffer. You squeeze his arm, a reminder that you’re there.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother barely greets him before moving onto you, “and this is your girlfriend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.”

If it were someone else’s mother, you’d be hit with the usual ‘oh please, call me (insert name here).’ However, where the Harringtons are concerned, formality is a must. Besides Steve, of course. From what you know, the apple had fallen very, very far from the tree and you mean that as a compliment.

Even after being friends for so many years, this is the first time you’re actually meeting Steve’s parents. It’s clear that he’s never jumped at the opportunity to have his friends around when they’re home. He’s told you about them, and that’s enough for you.

“Steve! Come help me with the bags, would you?” His dad calls from outside, though he says it as a demand rather than a question.

“Yep, coming,” he replies. He kisses the side of your head before going outside, quick and sure, like he’s done it hundreds of times.

“How was your trip, Mrs. Harrington?” You fill the silence.

“Oh, just lovely, thank you,” she moves to the kitchen, expecting you to follow. “The house looks clean. Do you have something to do with that?”

Despite her trying to sound like she’s joking, you know that she truly doesn’t believe that Steve could be the one keeping the place going. As if he hasn’t been doing just that for ages.

“No, no. It’s really Steve.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprised.

Steve and his father walk in before anything else is said—thank God. You shake hands with Mr. Harrington, saying hello and wearing a tight smile. Steve’s quick to come to your side, an arm over your shoulders like a shield. Your hand moves to hold the one resting on your shoulder.

He’s even more tense when his father’s in the room, you’ve noticed. You hold his hand a bit tighter. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, and you hope that this fake relationship will do that at least a little bit.

Meanwhile Steve’s wondering how your presence could make him feel much better than he usually does with his parents around. You’re a comfort beside him, and when he gets the chance, he kisses your head again, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

-

The first few hours with Steve’s parents go by dreadfully slow, even with his touch on you most of the time. You’re quickly learning that as a boyfriend—even fake—Steve’s love language is easily physical touch. He has an arm around you, a hand in yours, on your leg, anything.

You’re also learning just how strained his relationship with his parents is. He’d trusted you enough to tell you most of it, but seeing them interact in front of you was different. The backhanded comments, the faces whenever he mentions his job, it makes your heart ache for him.

It’s bad enough that his parents are hardly ever around, but having them act like this when they are? You’re amazed at how good Steve has remained through it all.

When it’s time to get ready for the business party, you’re thankful for the reprieve.

“Think we’re doing a good job?” You ask Steve as he shuts the door to his room.

“They seem to be buying it. Thanks again for doing this.”

“You’ve thanked me like a hundred times, Steve. It’s okay, really.”

You want to tell him that you’re sorry these are the people he has to call family. That he shouldn’t listen to any of the shit they give him about his job or his lack of post-secondary education. That he’s the best boy you’ve ever known.

The problem is, you don’t know how to say all of that without making your feelings for him painfully obvious.

“Just gotta keep it up ‘til Christmas. That’s when they leave.”

“They’re only here for two days?” You knew the trip was going to be short, but forty-eight hours?

“Yeah, something about getting a deal on a cruise. I don’t know.”

He says it so casually, like it’s normal. You guess that for him, it is, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

“Does that mean you’ll come to mine for Christmas day? Like usual?” You ask, hopefully lightening the mood.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome. Think my mom likes you more than me anyway,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, then move to bring your stuff into his bathroom to start getting ready.

He leans on the doorframe, watching you set your makeup out on the counter, “she does not.”

“Steve, you have your own stocking hanging on our fireplace. And it’s bigger than mine.”

He smiles genuinely then, the first one since his parents have arrived.

He leaves you to get ready, shutting the bathroom door for when you change. You can still hear him through the door. The opening and closing of his drawers, a curse when he stubs his toe.

So far, pretending to be with Steve has been easy. You’ve acted the same save for the touches or small pecks he’s decided to keep placing on your head or your cheeks. The story you settled on was simple: you met him picking up a movie at Family Video, he asked if you needed company to watch it, the rest is history, blah blah blah.

Steve knocks on the bathroom door when you’re pretty much ready, you glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before opening it.

He stands with his tie in hand, wearing a button up and dress pants. You assume there’s a suit jacket to go along with it, and you think it might kill you. He’s so pretty, and he looks it all of the time but seeing him dressed up is really something.

“You look good, Steve,” you say. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Thanks. You look- you too.”

Steve’s stunned. He realizes he’s never seen you in anything formal and it’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s always known you’re gorgeous, in an obvious way like how the sky is blue. Now, though, it’s like he can feel it.

He clears his throat quietly and remembers the reason he knocked in the first place, “you don’t happen to know how to tie a tie, do you?”

You’re thankful for the time you decided to learn how when you were bored one day. You take the fabric from his hands, “it’s your lucky day, Steve.”

“Thank you. Didn’t wanna have to go ask my dad.”

He’s almost shy about wanting your help over something so small, his cheeks a little pink, his head bent. You give him a reassuring smile—or what you hope is one—and place the tie around his neck.

His eyes are on you as your hands fiddle with the fabric, doing it up for him. Your eyebrows are slightly scrunched, and he wants to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. He’s not used to having that urge.

You finish up successfully after having fumbled a little bit, adjusting the tie so it isn’t crooked.

“There you go,” you pat his chest and he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat, the way it’s quicker than normal.

He has no idea what that’s about.

“Thanks.”

“‘Course.”

He’s still standing close to you, enough that he has to keep his head tilted downwards just a little to be able to look at your face. Your eyes lock onto his, and time seems to slow. You’re so gone for him and you know it, but it almost seems like maybe he’s feeling something too. Just for a moment.

His father calling out that it’s time to go snaps you out of it.

Steve grabs his jacket, shrugging it on then offering you his hand to hold, “let’s do this, girlfriend.”

-

The hall is oozing Christmas when you walk in, Steve’s hand in yours. Ornaments hang down from the ceiling, warm white string lights line the top of the walls, Christmas music hums through the speakers, and an extravagant Christmas tree sits in the middle of the room.

You’ve never been to an event like it, and you have a hard time keeping your nerves at bay.

Pretending in front of Steve’s parents alone was one thing. Now, the stakes are higher. You have to be convincing and though it’s not difficult for you to pretend to be in love with Steve (you don’t have to fake that at all), you worry that you’ll slip up somehow and give yourself away. Both in the sense that the relationship is fake, and that your feelings are anything but.

It’s not long before Steve’s father gets pulled into a conversation, and his mother goes along with him. You’re left standing near the doorway with Steve, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Relax,” he leans his head close to yours and whispers.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’re fine. You’re fine,” he squeezes your hand, something that’s quickly become a wordless reassurance between you. “We’ve done good so far, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that I love you and that you being a really good fake boyfriend isn’t helping.

“Okay.”

He smiles and leads you further into the room. The smile he gives you is different from the one he gives the people that say hi to him, the people that stop him for a chat. For you, it’s honest. For them, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it doesn’t mean anything.

“About time you tied someone down, Steve,” a man says to him. A coworker of his father’s, just like most men in the room.

“Think she’s the one who got me, but yeah.”

“That’s sweet. Next step is to get you a stable job, huh?”

It seems like all anyone here is concerned about is what people do, who they know. It’s no fun for you and they aren’t even speaking to you directly most of the time.

“Sure. Good to see you,” Steve excuses the both of you from the conversation.

“These people suck,” you say to him, leading him to the bar set up in a corner.

“Tell me about it.”

You order water for the both of you, something to get rid of the dryness in your throat and occupy you for a bit. You drink quietly before Steve speaks up.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why it slips out now, but it does. The thought has been on his mind since he saw you standing there in his bathroom, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to say that, Steve. Nobody’s listening.”

“I mean it, seriously.”

“Oh,” you look down at your glass, at the condensation running down the side. The corners of your mouth lift, “thank you.”

“I know this isn’t the most fun, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admits. He’s always been sweet to you, but this feels different. You don’t know how or why, but it does.

“I am too.”

Steve’s dad interrupts your moment, pulling Steve off to meet some people. Already, there’s a guard being put up by him, a shield he saves for his father.

For those few minutes, where it was just you and Steve, you realized that he’s probably the best date you’ve ever had. He pays attention to you, he’s comforting without even trying, and he compliments you with so much honesty you could melt.

He’s the best date you’ve ever had and it’s fake. It’s becoming a mantra repeated in your head; it’s not real, it’s not real.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the boy who’s sat next to you now.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says.

“I’m not usually at these things. I came with my boyfriend,” you tell him, unsettled by his stare.

“And where is this boyfriend now?”

“He’s out there. I just needed some water but he’ll come back soon.”

You’re trying to get him to go away, to take the hint. He won’t.

“Why don’t I keep you company in the meantime?”

You’re about to reply when someone else does it for you, “not necessary. She’s my girl.”

My girl. Steve. He stands behind you, wraps his arms around your waist. It’s like he knew you needed him then, showing up as soon as you felt like you wanted to search for him. He runs his hands over your sides, a possessive touch that has your skin tingling.

“My bad, man. Thought she was lying about the boyfriend,” the guy says.

“She wasn’t. Even if she was, maybe you should learn to tell when someone isn’t interested, yeah?”

The stranger nods and walks off.

You spin in Steve’s hold, facing him. “My hero.”

“You know me,” he shrugs.

What he doesn’t say is that seeing another guy talk to you made his gut churn, bringing something that he didn’t want to admit was jealousy. He also saw the look on your face, the discomfort, and felt his feet carry him over before his mind could think it first.

His hands are still on your waist, even with the stranger gone.

-

It’s not until Steve’s parents are ready that you leave. They’ve taken advantage of the champagne that sat on trays, free for the taking, as well as the opportunity to talk up their son to many, many people. It seems they’re only proud of him when there’s other people around, and even then, the praise doesn’t hold much weight.

He’s trying his best. At least he’s working. He’s got a girlfriend now. No, he doesn’t host backyard parties while we’re gone anymore.

You wish you could speak up, but you know, with this many people around, it’d cause more harm than good. It’s hard to listen to the people that raised Steve talk about him the way they do. You want so badly to shout in their faces how brilliant he is, no thanks to them. How he has the kindest soul and a sort of midas touch that makes everything shine.

At least, you think he does. You promise yourself to love him better than they ever did, even if it’s in secret.

One memory from the night overpowers the rest, luckily. ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played, a slower rendition, and a slow dance ensued. You watched couples split off, and when you looked at Steve, he was already looking at you, a question on his face and a hand outstretched.

You fell into step with him quickly. It wasn’t awkward for a second. One of your hands in his, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You swayed together, unknowingly moving closer until you were close enough to rest your head on his chest. And you did.

He rested his head atop of yours and hummed the song softly. You’ll dream about that dance, probably.

Now, you sit in the car with Steve, who’s become the driver. He drops his parents off at his house first, leaving the two of you alone for the drive to yours. He sneaks glances at you at stop signs and red lights, turning back to the road when he thinks he’s been caught.

His mind is full because he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. He sees parts of you that he was blind to before. The shape of your lips, for example. The dip of your spine and the way it feels to hold you. It’s dizzying and warm, confusing and sparkling all at once.

Once he’s pulled up to your house, he offers to walk you to the door. Ever the gentleman. A romantic no matter how much he denies it, you think. He gets misty-eyed when you watch rom-coms, opens doors for you, has bought flowers for nearly all of his dates, as far as you know.

What must it be like to receive flowers from Steve Harrington?

He faces you on your front porch, hands in his pockets, “thank you again for doing this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay. I’m happy to help you, Steve. You’re my best friend.” Who I love more than anyone.

“You’re mine, too, honey.”

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Turns out, it was his default to use in your fake relationship. It is, however, the first time he’s said it when it’s just the two of you. It sounds sweet coming from his lips, sticky. Just like honey itself.

“What time should I be over for dinner tomorrow?” You ask. It’s the last hurdle of the fake dating.

“How ‘bout I come pick you up after I finish work?”

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great, thanks.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold of December biting your skin.

“Here,” Steve notices, of course he does, and he reaches out with his hands, rubbing them up and down your arms to warm you.

“How’re your hands still warm?” You ask.

“I'm magic.”

You smile at that. He has no idea.

He reaches up with one hand to cup your cool cheek, and you nudge your face into his touch. For the warmth, you tell yourself. That’s it. His thumb runs over your skin, once, twice.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a pretty smile?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it. You don’t, though, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in your gut because of it.

“Shut up,” you try to mask your bashfulness.

Then, just like that, his face is close to yours. So close that it looks like he might kiss you. His eyes flick from your mouth up to yours, like he’s unsure of what’s happening while he’s doing it.

You can feel his breath tickling your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. Before that can happen, he’s swerving away quickly, planting a kiss on your cheek instead. The one he isn’t holding. His mouth lingers for a second.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your skin.

“Night,” you say, dazed. And he’s walking away.

Steve’s not at all sure what’s come over him. He wanted to kiss you just then, to tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you stupid. What the fuck was happening to him?

When you let your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parted slightly, like you’d let him kiss you, like you wanted it, too, he panicked. Couldn't do it.

No, he doesn’t know what just happened, why it did, or why he’s resisting the urge to go back and knock on your door and actually kiss you when you open it. What he does know is that his heart seems to be doing something funny when you’re around, and that your fake relationship has been better than any of his real ones.

He knows he needs to talk to Robin about this.

-

Steve had to work the next morning—Christmas Eve—which he was actually thankful for. Thankful to get away from his parents, though the comments about his job followed him out the door this morning. Especially thankful because he needs to talk to Robin and sort out the mess of his feelings that has occurred in the last twenty four hours.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you. About how his stomach was all twisty when you slow danced with him. There are so many moments playing over in his memory. Not just from yesterday, either.

He remembers the way his stomach would sink when you’d tell him about a date you had or how he’d often reach out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, or to wipe something away from the corner of your mouth.

So many things over your friendship that he never thought about are coming back to him and he’s realized he doesn’t act that way with any of his other friends. Only you.

He also realizes that he hasn’t really been pretending with you at all.

“I think I love her,” Steve blurts out while he and Robin are organizing returns, the store luckily empty.

Robin reaches into her pocket, barely fazed, and tosses a handful of confetti at Steve. Some pieces stick to his hair, some to his clothes, most of it at his feet.

“What the hell?” He shakes the flecks out of his hair, “we have to clean that now.”

“I’ve been carrying around confetti for like a year waiting for this to happen!”

“Wait, what?”

“Steve, you’ve been loving her for a long time, hate to break it to you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He’s no longer preoccupied with the confetti.

“I was letting you do it on your own time. You’re welcome.”

Steve had only just deduced that he’s in love with you and yet, when he thinks about you, he feels the same way he has for years. He finds it hard to believe that he’s been blind to it for that long, but he has been called an idiot enough in his lifetime for it to make sense.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re not done fake dating yet, that there’s still dinner today to get through and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together.

“What am I gonna do, Robin?”

“You’re gonna tell her how you feel and I will finally know peace.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I freak her out?”

“Steve, she looks at you like sun shines from your pores,” she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

-

He picks you up after work as promised, his hands holding the wheel a little tighter, his greeting a little louder than normal. You figure he’s just nervous about dinner.

Nobody brings up the almost kiss, and you don’t plan to. Maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he was aiming for your cheek all along. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as you have.

It seems that your feelings for Steve are present now more than ever. Impossible to ignore. It might have something to do with the Christmas spirit floating around, the lightness of the holidays. It definitely has something to do with you being Steve’s fake girlfriend.

Because it turns out, he’s an excellent boyfriend, real or not.

He opens doors for you, even if he has to jog ahead of you to do it. He’s always got at least one hand on you, warm and sure. He looks at you with so much care, his brown eyes stuck on you.

It’s all adding up and you feel like your love for him is overflowing, pouring out of you before you can reel it in. You just hope he doesn’t notice that you’re not acting, that you never were.

Walking into Steve’s kitchen, you pause in the doorway, him behind you, “this smells great, Mrs. Harrington.”

Though Steve knows she probably bought most of the stuff and then put it in pots and pans to make it look like she cooked, he agrees, “so great, mom.”

She turns to look at you both from her spot by the stove, “thank you. Oh!” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her gaze drifting above your heads.

Oh no.

“Mistletoe,” she says, pointing.

“Look at that,” you laugh, short and awkward.

“Steve, sweetie, kiss your girlfriend for tradition's sake, won’t you.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“A real one, son,” his father pipes up from his seat at the table.

Steve finds your gaze, his eyes wide and questioning. Are you okay with this? He’s asking without saying it. You nod, barely there, but you nod and he sees it.

He cups your cheek in his hand, flashes of last night on your porch come to you. He leans in slowly, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. Instead of doing that, you hold his wrist in your hand, squeeze it. Your silent communication.

In a blink, his lips are on yours. Pillowy and almost shy, but he’s kissing you and you feel like you’re floating, your feet off the ground and everything. He pulls away before you can even register the fact that it happened.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your lips still burning with the memory of his.

Steve can't believe he hasn’t kissed you before. You’re soft and you fit together so well, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. He’s kicking himself for not doing it last night, when you were alone, when it was real. Next time he kisses you, he thinks, it will be real.

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, “so, let’s eat.”

Just like that, he’s moving to the table, pulling out a chair for you and kissing the top of your head once you’ve sat down. Already, the extra affection he’s been giving you has been dizzying. Now, it’s dialed way up.

He helps his mom serve the food before he sits down, though all he gets as a thank you is a pat on the cheek. Next to you, you can see Steve’s leg bouncing up and down. You reach out and place a hand above his knee, stilling him and drawing his gaze to yours.

You smile, and you hope it’s enough to say it’s okay, it’s all gonna be fine. He rests his hand on top of yours, fingers laced together.

“So, Steve, have you been looking for jobs?” His father speaks up. The never-ending topic.

“No, dad. I have a job,” Steve doesn’t look up from his plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork.

“Well, a real job, I mean.”

At Steve’s silence, his mom adds, “we just think, especially now that you have a girlfriend to support, you should look for something… better.”

You look up when she says it, eyes wide and hand tensing on Steve’s leg. You don’t understand how they care so much about what he does and so little about how he feels. He likes his job, you know that, and he’s tried to tell them multiple times over the past couple of days.

And still.

It’s impossible for you to sit by and listen to them talk to him the way they do, like he isn’t good enough. Like the only defining thing is his job, which isn’t even a bad one. What defines him is who he is as a person and he’s the best one in your life.

“Why does it matter so much?” You ask.

His parents look at you, surprised to be questioned, it seems. Steve looks at you, too, with something more like astonishment, appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, “it’s just, you haven’t seen your son in how long? And all you guys keep bringing up is his job, which he’s told you he actually enjoys. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

Steve’s world is tinting pink, heart-shaped lenses over his eyes hearing you defend him. Nobody’s ever tried to go against his parents for him, and here you are. Fuck, he loves you.

They’re quiet, and you’re not finished. “Steve is the greatest person I’ve ever met, and that’s no thanks to you. I’ve known him for a long time and not once have I seen you guys around. How can you judge him so much when you don’t even take the time to know him anymore?”

The room is dead quiet. Nothing but the clinking of forks against plates for the rest of the meal. You feel lighter, after saying what you did. Though you’re also terrified that you’ve overstepped, that Steve will be upset with you for causing a scene.

As if sensing your worry, he holds your hand just a bit tighter.

It’s not until after dinner, hidden away in his room, that you talk about what happened. Not the kiss; your outburst.

He shuts his door and you’re already apologizing, “listen, Steve. I'm so sorry if I made things worse, but I couldn’t just let them shit on your job anymore. I couldn’t. You’re my best friend, you know that, and-”

His arms are around you in a blink.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me. Thank you, honey.”

“Oh,” you blink away your surprise and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Anytime.”

“You’re really special.”

Your smile spreads, spilling before you can do anything about it. You hide your face in his neck and stay that way until he lets go, a flush in his cheeks and stars in his eyes.

Steve wanted to tell you he loves you right then, but the words seem stuck in his throat. They won’t come up. He wants to be with you for real, and though it happened in a rush, it also didn’t. His brain just needed to catch up to his heart.

He doesn’t say it, but he will. As soon as he can.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay.”

Movie night. You and him. That’s real.

-

Steve’s parents seem to have gone out somewhere, the car missing from the driveway. They haven’t left, though. You and Steve checked for the suitcases (they’re sitting, already packed, in their room).

Playing the movie, yet another Christmas pick that Steve couldn’t say no to, you share a blanket. There’s plenty of room on the couch, you’re the only people there, and yet, Steve still tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to lean against his side.

Maybe he’s just doing it in case his parents come home while you’re downstairs. That’s gotta be it.

“Is it bad that I’m sort of relieved they aren’t here right now?” Steve says to you, quiet.

“Not at all. You deserve better than what they give you, Steve.”

“You think so?”

“Are you kidding? I know so.”

He lets his head lean atop of yours, and that’s that.

You want to bring up the kiss, but then again, why would you? It’s not real. It’s not real no matter how much you wish it was, no matter how much it feels that way. You knew going into this that you might end up kissing Steve, you just didn’t know it’d fuck you up so much.

Part of you hopes that mistletoe will appear above your heads yet again, just to be able to feel the way you did when he kissed you. Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, warm all over.

Though Steve’s head feels relaxed, resting on yours, it’s overflowing with thoughts. You, his parents, the way you defended him, how it felt to kiss you, how much he wants to do it again. You. The entire length of the movie, he’s trying to think of a way to tell you he loves you. The best he comes up with is to wing it.

When the screen fades, and the film ends, you remember the gift you’d left in Steve’s room, buried at the bottom of your overnight bag (you decided to sleep over, something you’ve done too many times to count, and head to your place in the morning with Steve). You sit up, only to face him.

“I have something for you. C’mon,” you tug on his hand, leading him all the way to his own bedroom.

“What?”

“Just,” you make him sit down on his bed when you’re in the room, digging through your bag and finding the present you’d wrapped last night. “Here.”

He takes it from your hand slowly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t open it right away, staring at the red and green patterned wrapping paper and the gold stick-on bow sitting in the middle of it.

“Open it,” you urge, shuffling nervously on your feet.

He shoots you a shy smile before tearing at the paper, revealing a scrapbook of sorts. Flipping through the pages, he finds memories upon memories. Pictures of you and him, of him and Robin, all three of you. Some with the kids or with Eddie. Most of them he doesn’t even remember taking.

And it’s more than just pictures. There’s movie tickets and receipts from random fast food dinners, confetti from a surprise party for Dustin and a piece of a plate Steve broke once.

It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever given him. It reminds him that he does have a family, no blood relation needed.

“Honey,” he says it quietly, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “This is- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“No. I love it. It’s perfect, seriously,” he runs his finger over a picture of the two of you, your faces squished together and your smiles absolutely ridiculous. “Best gift ever.”

He means it.

“I had some help with the pictures. Everyone in that book loves you, Steve.”

Everyone in that book. That means you love him, too. He knows that you could mean it platonically, but something about the way you look at him when you say it makes him think that he has to tell you. He has to try.

He’s suddenly very glad he bought you a locket for Christmas, and that he left it unwrapped because of his lack of skills in that department.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Steve-”

“Please,” he trades spots with you, sitting you on the edge of his bed, “close your eyes for a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you shut them tight, placing a hand over them as well, “double closed.”

He rushes to grab the locket from the bottom of one of his drawers, then grabs the tiniest bit of paper and manages to write as small as he can on it, placing the message in the necklace and closing it with a small click.

Steve reaches for the hand that isn’t covering your eyes, opening it up and placing the delicate piece of jewelry in it. “Okay, open.”

You do, glancing down to what rests in your palm. It’s gorgeous, dainty, and the corners of your mouth lift at the sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, Steve. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s a locket,” he says. His head is bent, shy and visibly nervous. “Open it, too.”

Your heartbeat picks up, like you know, subconsciously, that something big is hiding inside despite the small size of the necklace itself. You wedge your fingernail into the gap, pushing the locket open. The note inside makes your stomach drop.

In his messy, rushed writing, the words ‘I love you.’

You look at him, mouth agape and hopes way up. “Steve?”

“I mean it.”

“How-”

“I mean I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really, really long time. I guess it took you being my fake girlfriend for me to realize it.”

“You’re not pranking me, are you?”

You’ve spent so long loving him, and convincing yourself that he could never love you the same, that it feels unreal. Hazy, like a dream.

He sits beside you, cupping your face in his hands softly to make you look at him, “I’m not pranking you. I love you.”

“Holy shit. I love you, too. For so long. I never thought I had a chance with you.”

“I think you’re the only person who’s had a real chance with me since I met you, honey.”

Right there, discarded wrapping paper on the floor, the glow of Christmas lights shining through the window, you doubt you’ll ever take that locket off once it’s on.

You can’t stop yourself from rushing forward and kissing him. A small press of your mouth against his at first, then, it’s more. It’s slow and every single thing you’ve ever wanted. His lips move with yours like they’re the only ones that know you.

This time, when you kiss, there’s no question. It’s real and it’s thawing every single worry you ever had about this. This is real, you get to think now.

Steve pulls away only when your breathing gets heavier, only when he absolutely has to. His thumb trails over your cheek, a lover’s touch. He takes the necklace from your hand, puts it on for you and kisses you again when he’s done.

“Do you think this was a Christmas miracle?” You say, teasing.

“I think this was just me being too stupid to notice how I feel about you. I know now, though.”

“Because you needed a fake girlfriend.”

“Because I needed a fake girlfriend,” he confirms. “But, I’d like a real one now.”

“I think I can manage that,” you nod, a lovesick smile on your face.

For once, Steve’s glad his parents came home. He never would have asked you to fake date him if they hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have realized his very real feelings for you, either. So, maybe it is a Christmas miracle, after all.

༄

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[sweetyluvs]

27 with doctor! abby au please 🙏!!

𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞

abby anderson x fem! reader - drabble

sorry this literally took me a millennium.. i kept getting it wrong and having to rewrite 😭 .

anon left a second note, it read: “same anon who requested 27 with doctor abby! i forgot to add i want angst with fluff at the end if possible. thanks:)”

tags - angsty 🥀, mentions of light loneliness, relationship problems.. fluff at the end!!!

Abby having late night shifts was nothing knew.

She was a surgeon, staying late was apart of her job. but sometimes you wished it wasn’t.

she always came back extremely exhausted, only having the strength to mutter a few ‘thank you’s’ when she eats the food you made her before she goes to sleep. resting all night and getting up at the crack of dawn. You barely see her, and when you do, it’s not for long.

you do miss her, you miss really being around her and having her eyes and attention and love on you, but with her job… it wasn’t that simple. you had your own job, yeah, you were the owner of a small bakery downtown. but you ran that business, you had employees and assistant managers to cover for when you couldn’t make it, and abby didn’t.

you sigh deeply, shutting your eyes upon the refreshing feeling of the cold air flushing out your lungs. Abby was most likely working another late shift at the Hospital. No surprise, you loved her, and her job, but she’d said she would be back by 6:30 to have the promised dinner you were thrilled to make. you’d been going on about it for weeks, asking when she would swear to be free, and she had pinky swore that this wednesday— today— would be perfect.

but, here you sat. alone at the table, your plate empty as the one across from you was full, the once warm food now cold. You weren’t angry, no, you understood. Obviously, she’d come back if she could, obviously she’d stay with you if she could. but she couldn’t. being a doctor was hard, and you understood.

You stood up, taking your plate and utensils with you to the sink. overlooking all the dishes you’d dirtied to try and perfect this dish for her. You rinsed your dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, going to gather the other ones and wash them, putting the plates, bowls, spoons and such in the washer. Your thoughts went back to the day you’d told her. she walked through the door at her usual retuning time, smiling at you when you ran up to her for a hug. You’d asked her the usuals; ‘how was your day?’ ‘anything exciting happen?’ ‘was dina as smart as she usually is?’ ‘were jesse and ellie as weird as usual?’ she’d laughed at your dumb questions, answering them as she took off her shoes and placed down her bag, walking with you to the kitchen. then, you be brought it up.

“abs, i found this super cool, almost gourmet recipe, and i thought i could make it for us to have for dinner on a night that works for you.” you offered, watching as she practically inhaled the spaghetti and meatballs you’d made for dinner. She chewed for a moment, smiling at your words. she swallowed, looking at you. “that sounds great, baby. what is it?”

“can’t tell ya! have to kill ya.” you teased, leaning on the counter and grinning at her eye roll. “okay, whatver.”

“what day works for you? i want you to actually have it free so you don’t miss the freshness of the food.” you inquired, watching as she squinted her eyes in thought. “next wednesday. some construction is going on at the hospital and me and a few others are being let of early.. around 6:30, so that’s perfect.” she replied, twisting her spoon to gather some noodles. you beamed, leaned closer “you pinky swear?.”

“i pinky swear.”

you bit your bottom lip, gnawing at the now raw flesh at the reminiscence of the memory. You always tried to be open, not upset— but you were hurt. You hadn’t actually, really had dinner with her for months.

it wasn’t her fault. you’d told yourself, knowing it wasn’t. You didn’t want to take her work schedule to heart.. but something inside you cracked every time she broke a promise. You huffed angrily, brows furrowing harshly as you aggressively scrubbed the pan you’d used. the dish had took you most of the day, calling ahead to your employees yesterday to let them know you wouldn’t be there, you spent seven hours perfecting this recipe.

even the name of the dish took you time to read. ‘Prosciutto-Wrapped Pork Tenderloin with Crispy Sage, a side of Salade Niçoise (from france) and a side dish of duchess potatoes.’

you knew abby would fall to her knees from joy upon hearing those food titles. she’d love to have it with you, and that’s why you made it. so she’d love it. but she’s not here to have it with you like she said.

before you knew it, the kitchen was clean. stepping to the dinner table, you scooped up her plate of food and nicely wrapped it in plastic wrap. taking a piece of paper from the notepad on the fridge and writing her a small note. You weren’t trying to be rude, in fact, you tried everything in you to he as kind as possible— but after being bailed on four times in the past three months, you were at the edge of a line. you put the paper on the plate, leaving it on the counter for her alongside some water before storming off to your shared bedroom— barely, shared bedroom. you made it, cleaned it, kept it tidy, rearranged it, etcetera.

tearing off your nice shirt, you tossed it to the floor. usually, you’d wear one of abby’s shirts during her night shifts, the lingering smell bringing you comfort— but now, the thought of her made you internally irk.

you took a shirt from your drawer , tossing it over your head and shoulders, sliding it on. You didn’t same with your pants, taking off the nice linen fabric and fuming as you put on crappy old shorts.

You basically threw yourself into bed, putting a pillow between your side, and abbys side of the bed. hoping she’d get the message. i mean, it’s not like she’ll have the time to talk to you about it tomorrow anyways, right?

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

abby sigh as the door to your shared apartment opened, her hand pulling out the key she’d used to unlock it. you don’t usually lock the door.

She knew she’d fucked up.

you’d been so excited for this, chatting about it and reminding her to not be late. and she was late. four hours late.

Abbys dropped her bag by the door as she usually does, sliding off her work shoes and sliding on her slippers before walking to the kitchen.

the lights were out, it was cleaned nicely. her eyes met a plate on the white marble counter, a lazily folded piece of paper on top.

She smiled lightly, knowing you’d be the kind to leave her a note. she reached for it, unfolding it.

“Hope the construction workers weren’t in your way. Enjoy.” abby’s smile fell, guilt flooded her every atom at the words. fuck.

she knew you’d be upset, she doesn’t know what she was expecting— she’d bailed on you four times, and she swore to be on time this one. but, she wasn’t.

Abby was getting ready to head out at 6:25 to be able to make it home early, the biggest grin tugged at her lips as she told all her co-workers about the meal you were preparing.

she was about to leave when an emergency was called in. It was bad, but she’d seen worse. this poor girls bone was completely shattered, a bad case of compartment syndrome. unluckily, her and mel were the only two true professionals still clocked in, leading to a four and a half hour long surgery.

by the time abby got out of the hospital, she basically ran to her car and sped home— praying that by some miracle you were still awake and waiting for her.

you weren’t.

She put the note down, eyes landing on the plate of food you’d left her.

it was beautiful.

the potatoes shaped perfectly, the prosciutto-wrapped tenderloin looked amazing; cooked to perfection, the salad beside it was also stunning.

Each course of the meal was placed individually and carefully on her plate. Abby’s stomach fell with guilt upon imagining you sitting alone, eating your meal without her.

Abby was mad at herself. not because of this single instance, but because she feels as if she’s choosing her career over you— and she would never, ever do such a thing.

Her life revolves around you, so much.. she’d been planning a little something with a ring.

but for some terrifying reason, she felt that you would refuse. why would you marry someone who you’d never be around? nausea ate at her stomach due to the thought, hoping it was only her crazy nighttime, overworked imagination.

Abby unwrapped the food, putting it in the microwave for a minute. You weren’t anywhere in sight, and so she assumed you’d gone to sleep. alone. again.

“fuck..” she murmured, regret running through her veins. She leaned on the counter, her muscular figure easily keeping her upright.

you were the love of her life— her light in the darkness, her jam to her bread, her peanut butter to her jelly— without you, she doesn’t know where she’d be, and thanks to her stupid work schedule, she’s beginning to think that’s starting to happen.

the timer went off, a loud beep ripping her from her thoughts. “oh shit— shh, shh— loud ass microwave.” she complained, taking out the food. The potatoes were now soft, the salad unfortunately warm do to being in the heat, but the rest of the meal was good temperature. Abby got a fork, quickly snagging a bite of the tenderloin. It was even better than you swore it would be. The juice of the meat flooded her mouth like the sea to the shore, accompanied with the small amount of potatoes that gathered on her fork; they were magnificent.

Abby had inhaled the meal, it being gone in a matter of inhuman minutes. She rinsed her dish, going to load it in the dishwasher— but seeing that you had ran it. she frown. you always made sure to never do that, claiming you ‘wanted to get the love she deserves, and love is definitely not having to do your own dish.’

she cleaned her dishes and walked across the house and down the hall to your shared bedroom, pushing the door open she saw you. laying on your side, hair lightly messy as it always was when you slept (she loved it.) and.. a pillow between your side and her side. she wondered what else she’d missed that you’d done.

Abby striped her pants, throwing on some sweats and a hoodie, sliding in bed beside you. She gripped the pillow and threw it so hard she was surprised it didn’t pop, and wrapped her ams around your wait.

you shuffled, grabbing her hand before it could do a full 360 and ripped it off you, harshly turning your back to her.

“babe,” she whispered softly, sadness coating her vocals.

you were reluctant, eyes snapped shut even though she knows your awake.

“I’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i really tried to be here, something unexpected came up, i swear i would have had been here.”

your silence had her itching at her skin.

“please say something.” she pleaded, her frown only deepening.

“whatever you say, abigail.”

abby grabbed the top of her head, ‘fuck’ running in her mind a thousand miles per hour. she really was in deep shit.

“i’m sorry, y/n, i don’t even think sorry can describe how sorry i am— i just, i wanted do come back, i couldn’t though. i couldn’t just leave the hospital, they needed me.” you clenched your jaw. her points were decent, great even— but you were petty.

“i’m sure they did.”

your little-word replies had abby at edge of her seat, suspense and fear building up.

“that’s all? nothing else?” she poked, confusion flooding her, anger starting to appear as well.

“yeah.”

she scoffed, sitting against the headboard. “You don’t have anything else to say? at all? i came back, yeah, i was late and i’m sorry, but—

“late?” you bit back, interrupting her. “you’ve bailed on me four times for dinner. You’ve always put your job before me, you’ve always had more time for your career— is this even working?”

those words were the ones abby feared the most. When you two began dating, she had told you about her passion, and where she worked. you found it fascinating, understanding completely. but, that was also when she used to spend genuine time with you.

“ i love you abby, i really do— but i can’t be with someone who puts a career before a person. I support your passions, and i wish nothing but the best for you, but I don’t want to be stood up by the person i’m dating anymore. fuck, abby, i took work off today to spend seven fucking hours making a meal you couldn’t even text me to say you couldn’t even show up for!” before you knew it, you’d sat up and looked at her, voice raising in a way she’d never heard.

“i know its not your choice, but you could at least find five fucking seconds to reply to my text.”

guild flooded her like a tsunami once again, a frown growing at the look on your face.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered out, watching as you sigh deeply.

“Don’t apologize, abby. it’s past that.” your reply scared her, fearing the worst; a break up. were you going to break up with her? were you going to leave her behind? she didn’t know, and she didn’t want to find out.

“how can i make it up to you?”

“i don’t even know if you can do that anymore.” you turned away, laying on your side, the pillow you’d somehow slipped between you both felt like a rock wall, each side of the bed you slept on cold; missing one another’s warmth.

abby stayed silent, internally scolding herself for being such a bad girlfriend and, frankly, not trying harder to be better.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you woke up with a sore neck, probably from sleeping in a way you never do.

you didn’t need to look over to abby’s side of the bed to know she was gone. sitting up, you crack your once resting bones and stand up. Shuffling on your slippers, you walk to your bedroom door, twisting the cold handle and walking out.

Every morning you wake up after abby, she always kisses you goodbye before she leaves (or so she claims to.), grabs a quick bite to eat from the fridge and you are left to make breakfast for yourself. it was second nature, to wake up and immediately crack and egg or two.

but, something was off. It smelled almost.. good in the house. you ignored it, labeling it as your desperate imagination.

Your feet hobbled across the house, yawning deeply and shutting the bathroom door. looking in the mirror, you grimace. the eye bags on your face were not your strong suite, you noted.

quickly rinsing off your sleep, you brush your teeth along with your hair. each and every yawning that stole itself from your lips reminded you how much you needed your coffee. rubbing your eyes you opened the bathroom door and began your journey to the kitchen.

when you round the familiar corner, what you hadn’t expected was to see Abby in the room.

your eyes flew wide, her blonde hair was still down from sleeping, she had her glasses on and was hovering over the stove.

brows furrowing, you stepped forward. “aren’t you supposed to be at work? isn’t thursday one of the most important ones?” you genuinely ask, catching her off guard attention, her head snapping up.

the big, sweet smile that encased her beautiful lips made you feel bad for your harshness the previous night. She pushed her arms off the counter, fixing something by the stove quickly before walking over to the bar, pulling out the two chairs and revealing two sets of plates.

“Yeah— but it’s not as important as you.” Abby affirmed, a light pink coating her cheeks. You wanted to stay angry, to stay mad at her lies and broken promises. But, your ice heart thawed quickly, revealing the warmth you still posses for her.

“abby.. you didn’t have to. I know i was harsh last night but— it’s your passion, i didn’t.. actually expect you to not go.” you confessed, walking to her cautiously, as if she’d vanish from existence.

she gave you a small smile, “I know. but, i would rather be with you. I love you way more than any hobby.” Her words were the validation you’ve been craving all these months, the words you’ve been seeking to hear. You instantly complied.

“i’m glad to hear that.” you laughed, approaching her and gingerly placing a kiss to her cheek as you sat at your chair she pointed to.

“always.”

she rushed back to the stove, flipping over whatever had been on their previously before motioning for you to give her your plate. you obliged, handing it to her.

“I love you, baby. I always will and.. even though i’m not a baker, i tried to make you those pancakes you like so much.” oh did her words make you fall for her all over again. “you didn’t have to, abs.” you grinned, ear to ear. something abby hadn’t seen you do since.. since a while.

“i did. i hope you like them.” she placed the plate in front of you, beautiful, fluffy pancakes alongside fresh bacon and eggs with syrup drizzled over them placed nicely on the dish.

“wow! abby, you might want to reconsider your career and come work for me.” you joked, smiling wildly at the wholehearted laugh she let out.

“who knows, maybe i will.”

you rolled your eyes, cutting a piece of the pancake and dipping it in the puddled syrup.

your eyes widened, “mhm!” you expressed, eyes shutting in satisfaction.

although abby was a very high ranked doctor, she was still nervous to get her professional baker girlfriends opinion on first time pancakes.

“Abigail, you are a natural.”

“only for you, babe.”

she put food on her own plate, turning off the stove and coming to sit beside you.

“I’m going to call my supervisor and ask for some more free hours from now on. So i can start to have breakfast and dinner with you. and maybe a couple free days, too.” abby announced, causing your heart to beat happily.

“that makes me so unbelievably happy, abby. you deserve it.”

you kissed her cheek, syrup sticking from your lips to her skin. you laughed, and she did too.

“I love you. more than anything.” you said, chewing softly. she wiped some food from your face, a loving smile tracing her features.

“i love you more.”

[katyawriteswhump]

Livin’ the dream (steddielovemonth day 3)

After High School, Eddie and Steve’s lives don’t exactly go as planned… For @steddielovemonth day 3 prompt: Love is being terrified but not letting that stop you from taking a leap (@unclewaynemunson) Thank you <3

Rating: M. CW: Unhealthy/abusive relationship (NOT steddie!) Tags: No Upside Down AU, angst. WC: 2,225

…

“I’d never have dreamed,” said Eddie one morning, during his daily stop at Dave’s Diner, “that Steve Harrington pouring my coffee would become the highlight of my day.”

Steve smirked. “Wasn’t exactly how I saw my future either, Munson.”

While Steve poured, Eddie left his hand on his coffee cup. He always did—even if the cup got too hot. Even if it scalded him. He’d not miss a chance to have Steve that close. Nor to enjoy staring at those lickable arms, today exposed to the shoulders by a snug-fitting vest top.

“I guess you really dig lousy weak coffee, man,” said Steve.

“Sets me up for a busy day fulfilling my childhood ambition of hauling bricks, darlin’.” He’d gotten away with ‘darlin’’ last week. Steve didn’t chew his head off today, either, so… “Living the dream, huh?”

Steve sighed hard, started wiping the counter near Eddie, over and over, as he always did. “How’s your pay?” asked Steve quietly.

“It’s a day rate. Not stellar, not the pits. Why? You looking for other work?” Panic rocked through Eddie. “You’re not leaving this place?” Though it would be awesome if we worked together. Eddie was already fantasising about those hot summer days on the construction site, when Steve might strip his shirt off.

“Nah, not really,” said Steve, “I’m kinda tied to this job.” He ran his free hand distractedly across his eyes. Tied to this job—what the heck did that mean? Steve often seemed world-weary and withdrawn. Incongruously so, given the confident guy he used to be. But that was adult life, so it seemed. It sucked.

All the same, Eddie experienced an uneasy urge to probe deeper. Steve got in first: “Hey, how’s the band?”

Eddie beamed. Yeah, there was one other thing, other than coffee with Steve, that he lived for: “We got a gig Saturday night.”

“Let me guess—the super bowl came begging?”

“Haha, just you wait, big guy. It’s at that new bar in town. You wanna come?”

Steve paused his scrubbing. Something sparked in the depths of those big, beguiling eyes that made Eddie’s throat tighten, and his pulse beat faster. “I’m working,” said Steve. I’ll try and get away aft—”

“Hey, kid! You gone blind or you really this lazy?” That was Steve’s boss, Dave, who’d gotten the biggest arms Eddie had ever seen. “There’s more than one punter in this place. If you can count that high?”

“Jesus, he can be such an a-hole,” mumbled Steve. He shot off, even as Eddie bleated: 

“See you tomorrow?”

…

Only seven people turn up for Corroded Coffin’s gig. It was a total dud, and Eddie didn’t give a shit. 

Among the seven, was Steve. 

The crappy too-bright venue lighting revealed Steve undressing Eddie with his eyes, as surely as Eddie undressed Steve. Eddie was so blown away, he almost messed up the finger work on his most bodacious solo.

After the final number, Eddie placed down his guitar and made a beeline for Steve: “Hey, you made it.”

“Figured I might as well. Jon Bon Jovi wasn’t returning my calls.” Steve snickered, and Eddie literally drooled. Metal thrummed through his every vein, and his blood rushed madly—most of it heading south. Steve Harrington CAME TO MY GIG AND STAYED FOR THE NON-EXISTENT AFTER-PARTY. Steve’s vest top was sadly missed, but his tight t-shirt still afforded Eddie a glimpse of that tasty chest hair, and the skin-tight jeans were… Gnnng! And as for the touch of eyeliner? 

Slayed Eddie dead.

“You wanna come backstage?” Eddie’s voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched.

“I’d like a drink. Preferably something stronger than coffee, and that I don’t have to pour.”

After his sixth shot, Eddie went in for the kill: “You are literally the hottest fucking thing I have ever goddamn seen.”

“Not exactly slick.” Steve leaned close, and Eddie inhaled his fast, bourbon-spiced breaths. “But I guess it’s a step up on ‘do you come here often.’” 

Eddie silenced him with a blockbuster kiss, which Steve returned instantly. Within moments, Eddie was up off his barstool, hands roving wildly over Steve’s delicious torso. Okay, also wandering around to pry under his tight t-shirt, and to grope that mega-hot denim-clad ass. Steve pawed Eddie with equal enthusiasm, setting his barstool rocking till it toppled back. 

He jumped off, straight into Eddie’s arms. Wow! There was nothing better than kissing somebody roughly your own height. Back at school, he’d figured Steve was a lot taller than him—like most jocks, he’d had that early spurt of growth, Eddie guessed. Then Eddie had more of less caught up, and now..? Yeah, everything had changed, all his preconceptions thrown to the winds. Best of all, Steve had turned out to be a good dude.

Also, the best kisser ever.

They made out like their lives depended on it, tongues sliding together, slickly and keenly. Meanwhile, despite the hotness, all those sweet moments over coffee crammed together in Eddie’s head.

You are the highlight of my life… The light of my goddamn life! How come this took so long?

Then, as abruptly as it started, Steve broke the kiss. He staggered back into his stool, setting it rocking again. “Shit!”

“Oooookay.” Eddie felt like he’d been punched. “Used to that in gig write-ups, but—”

“Oh God, no… It’s not you. It’s so not about you. This was a terrible idea.” He knocked Eddie’s fingers from where they lingered on his hip, and sidestepped, placing the barstool between them.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s about me, Munson, so you can quit the goddamn kicked-puppy-dog eyes.” Erm, back at ya, Harrington. “I’m with another guy, okay?” He laughed, and somehow, it was one of the most miserable sounds Eddie had ever heard. “I didn’t think we’d… Look, I really shouldn’t have come.” 

With that, he bolted.

…

Eddie got to the diner super-early on Monday morning. He’d barely thought of anything other than Steve, who was no longer simply his secret crush. Or even the light of his life. 

Without exactly knowing why, Eddie was pretty much dying with worry for him.

Steve didn’t pour Eddie’s coffee. He dumped the pot on the counter, emoted unwelcomingly with hard-set features, and hurried off to take a table order. Which he then headed out back to prepare.

Eddie waited. He was gonna be late for work, and his boss would give him an earful, and he really couldn’t give a crap.

The diner emptied out, and eventually, Steve emerged from the back, mouthing:

“What the Hell?”

“I needed to see you, Steve.” Steve glared at him, and Eddie did a double take. Steve looked more exhausted than ever, shadows stark as bruises around his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Saturday was a big mistake. Huge. Had an argument with my boyfriend about it, that’s all. Scram, will you?”

Steve’s boss came out from the back. Steve emoted wildly again, shooed Eddie, and the truth dawned. And was slammed home when Dave slapped Steve’s butt—scowling at Eddie, as he did so—then grabbed Steve’s shoulders, spiralled him about, and shoved him off in the direction of another table awaiting service.

“Either you place another order, or get lost,” said Dave to Eddie.

Eddie ordered pancakes and waited.

“Dave? Seriously?” hissed Eddie, when he finally got Steve’s attention again. He begrudgingly admitted Dave was okay looking. All the same: “He’s a dick! And he’s gotta be old enough to be your dad.”

Steve edged close, talking so fast and hushed Eddie strained to follow. “My parents threw me out. I was on the streets! Dave was… good to me, took me in, and now… I’m kinda stuck. He takes my rent out of my wages, and there’s never anything left, and—”

“You need to get away from him, man.” Eddie felt sick. Somehow, he burbled it out: “Leave the son-of-a-bitch. Right now. You can crash with me.”

“You live in your uncle’s trailer! He’d be beyond thrilled, I’m sure, and Dave would…” Steve’s mouth hung open a moment. He’d what? Come after you? “Look, I’m okay. Dave’s all right, really. Gets grouchy sometimes, that’s all.”

Eddie spouts the next question before he can stop himself. “Do you love him?”

Steve tossed his arms up in despair: “What kinda dumbass question is that?” Yeah, Eddie wants to facepalm. In retrospect, it was truly dumb! “Look, he doesn’t know who I saw on Saturday, but he’s already bitching about you hanging around too much. Just fucking go already!”

Eddie didn’t drive on to the construction site. Instead, as his brain screamed, You’re batshit crazy, he pawned all his meagre possessions, even his beloved Warlock. His plan only faltered when Wayne caught wind of him going to a loan shark. His uncle literally dragged him from their office and insisted on lending Eddie all his scant savings.

Eddie refused. Wayne refused harder. They headed to the second-hand dealership and purchased the cheapest RV in the yard.

Next morning, Eddie trundled his rusty 1960s Volkswagen into the forecourt of Dave’s Diner. He gritted his teeth, squared his shoulders, and moseyed through the door like a gunslinger and about to unleash hell. One that was also trembling like jello, packing zero heat, and practically pissing himself.

“Got my own place now,” he said to Steve.

Steve looked mad, refused him even a coffee cup, though Dave didn’t seem to be around. Yet. “This isn’t happening, Eddie.”

“My place has got wheels, darlin’.” Eddie motioned to the RV outside, dropped his voice to an undertone. “It’s a big country. We can go anywhere. I’ll park up half-a-mile along the road. Wait all day. All night, if you need.”

Steve eked tight words from between gritted teeth: “Look, I don’t wanna sound ungrateful. It’s still a ‘no,’ man. You must have gone cuckoo. I mean, what about your band?”

Yeah, that brought a pang to Eddie’s chest: “Honestly? The rest of the guys are losing interest fast. I can fly solo. As long as you’ll fly with me?”

Dave strode out from the back. The flash of fear in Steve’s eyes cut Eddie to the quick, because it also hollered, You’re making things worse!

Oh God, what’ve I done?

“You’re barred,” yelled Dave at Eddie. “I see your long-haired loony mug one more time, you can kiss my fist.”

“Subtle you ain’t, asshat.”  Eddie retreated, literally a mangy, kicked dog. He drove the RV that half-a-mile along the road and waited. And waited. By midnight, he felt like his heart had been wrung dry, and eventually, he fell asleep.

A loud thudding roused him. He sat up, blinked at his unfamiliar surroundings and then… Shiiiit! He dashed to the door.

Steve perched on the step, his wide eyes glowing with something… unfamiliar. Some sparkle that might just be hope. He’d gotten a very small bundle slung over his shoulder.

“I hope you were serious?” asked Steve.

“Deadly serious, darlin’.”

Steve took Eddie’s face in his hands, and kissed him, briefly, almost chastely. Totally mind blowing. “So good to do that without feeling guilty,” he murmured, smoothing kiss-wetted lips together.

Eddie grinned; he wasn’t even quite sure if this was real: “Let’s get the Hell out of Dodge,” he said.

They hit the road, and they never looked back.

…

Three months later

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” cooed Eddie, as the Hawkins pawn shop owner handed his Warlock back across the counter. “I missed you soooo much.”

“Ugh, seriously?” bitched Steve, as soon as they exited the store. He blocked Eddie’s path along the sidewalk, planted his hands on his hips: “Should I be jealous?”

“Nah. We’re a proper family now.” With his guitar safely stowed in its case, he slung an arm around Steve, and they walked on toward where they’d parked the RV. “Tho’ when we get to Wayne’s, I might have a moment with my long-lost beloved. While you two watch the game.”

“No funny business, Sweetcheeks, or I’m absconding with a second-hand Yamaha keyboard.”

Eddie beamed broadly. It felt so weird, being back in Hawkins, and with hope, at least, for a better future. Not even having to worry about… “You know, I kinda want to thank Chief Hopper in person for arresting your douchebag ex.”

“Yeah, well, he put a guy in the hospital.” Steve shuddered. “They’ve charged him with attempted homicide.”

God, I’m so relieved it wasn’t you, thinks Eddie.

Steve rattled out a joyless laugh that Eddie hadn’t heard for some time, and said, “Jesus, I’m so happy it wasn’t you.”

Suddenly, Eddie’s eyes brimmed with tears. It’s too much. He can’t bear to think of what might have been. “Love you so much,” he blurted, fumbling for the keys for the RV. He couldn’t get up the steps and inside with Steve fast enough

“Love you too,” whispered Steve, once the door was closed, and sounding slightly choked, also. Which isn’t like him.

They clasped each other tighter than ever, and did their darndest to kiss the bad memories away.

[whiskersz]

Angel and reader who’s also into fem fashion/drag so they keep stealing each others stuff to use

“is that my lipstick?”

“Is that my dress?”

“…touché”

This is pretty short, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Warning for Valentino ment /neg...he's not there though, be not afraid.

-ˏˋ♥̩͙♥̩̩̥͙♥̩̥̩ ⑅ -ˏˋ♥̩͙♥̩̩̥͙♥̩̥̩ ⑅ -ˏˋ♥̩͙♥̩̩̥͙♥̩̥̩ ⑅

Late! Late, late, late, late!

You were supposed to meet up with your friends half an hour ago, and yet here you are still hanging around in your PJs.

You swing your closet open; this looks too boring, this is certainly way too tacky, it’s morning after all...ah, perfect! You haven’t worn this outfit in a while, and you remember receiving lots of compliments when you did. Your friends will surely appreciate it too.

You practically throw yourself at your desk, dangerously risking a fall from your chair; time for makeup!

A bit of moisturizer, some primer to help your makeup apply smoothly, foundation to cover up any stray blemish...you do everything in a bit of a hurry, so the time to apply lipstick comes fairly soon. You gaze at your whole collection, but nothing seems to be matching with what you’re wearing...except for one of them.

-

SUPER late!

If Angel doesn’t leave the Hotel right this instant, Valentino is not going to be pleased about his arrival.

Luckily his light makeup from yesterday is still somehow intact, so he only has to touch it up a bit before basically flying to his closet to choose the most appropriate fit for the day. There’s supposed to be a shooting today after all, so he needs to look his best.

Despite his wide collection of outfits, nothing particularly catches his eye this morning, which is not ideal since he can already hear the limousine supposed to pick him up pulling up in the driveway.

Come on, there has to be something...his room is a mess right now, maybe something he carelessly threw on his bed could work?

As if Heaven was listening, the first thing he lays his eyes upon happens to be the perfect dress for what he needs to do today.

It’s not exactly his...but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.

-

You and Angel exit your rooms almost simultaneously, yours being a bit back into the hallway allows the two of you to meet as he leaves his;

“You’re late!” you point out as he’s busy locking his door.

“So are ya!” turning around, his eyes immediately travel to your lips; “Hey, is that my...?”

You nod, refraining from kissing his lips while wearing his own lipstick; another thing Valentino would not be happy about.

“Yep, and that is my dress.”

“Don’t blame me babes, it’s perfect for the occasion!”

You endearingly shake your head. Letting your boyfriend leave the Hotel first, you call out to him before he can open the front door.

“Angel, I’ll see you tonight, mhm?”

“Will do.” He sighs a bit, flashing you a smile nonetheless; “Have fun with your friends, yeah?”

Nodding, you let him go, already planning to stop by a couple shops to look for a little present for him – and to proudly point out to all of your friends that the lipstick you’re wearing is your boyfriend’s, in case any of them decides to compliment it.

[crevicedwelling]

I have a pretty bad fear of wasps. Nothing crippling, I can observe them from a distance just fine, but it does make being outside on warm, sunny days a stressful experience. I want to work on it, because I know they're just like any other animal: they're just minding their own business 99% of the time, they're not out to get you, and they deserve a place on this world as much as any other. And I know some can even learn to recognize/"befriend" people, which I think is super cool. I actually followed your blog partially because you post about wasps and I knew it would help to regularly expose myself to wasps that way.

I still sometimes freeze up or get really jumpy when I see a wasp near me. But I can tell I've been getting better. Just the other day I went to the Renaissance Festival and was carrying around a big cup of mead (a.k.a. wasp attractant) and, yeah, I was followed by a couple wasps. At one point two of them just hung out on the inside of the cup for like five solid minutes licking it clean.

If it weren't for your blog I would've been so terrified I probably would've thrown the cup onto the ground and waited from like twenty feet away for the wasps to leave. But I DIDN'T. I carried it around with me and patiently (and anxiously) waited for the wasps to fly away whenever they did show up.

It's really hard to make myself just stay still when I see a wasp near me. Earlier today I could only do so for maybe 30 seconds before I had to stand up and wait nearby for it to leave. But I'm really trying to get over that fear, and I'm slowly getting better, and I think I owe your blog quite a bit in that regard. So, thank you.

I believe the most common wasp here (at least, the one I was dealing with in those two anecdotes) is some kind of Vespula yellowjacket, probably Vespula maculifrons. So... I dunno, if you have any fun facts or pictures or videos about yellowjackets (either V. maculifrons or yellowjackets in general), I'd love to hear/see those. And if not, that's okay too <3

I think a fun fact that most don’t appreciate about yellowjackets is how much they parasitize one another!

Vespula maculifrons here is a widespread, common species in eastern North America. queens of this species do the usual overwinter under log, find a hole, make a nest deal. they scavenge, they hunt, they feed on nectar. pretty standard Vespula.

V. squamosa is a species that’s very common locally, and when you see workers out and about they act much like other yellowjackets. however, their queens (no photo) are huge, hornet-sized orange wasps quite different from the workers. curiously, V. squamosa don’t make their own nests about 85% of the time. instead, most of those big bruiser queens wait a few weeks longer to come out of hiding, and track down a new Vespula maculifrons nest founded earlier in spring. she’ll march into the smaller species’ nest, chew the original queen to pieces, and bully her daughter workers into submission. she then lays her own eggs in the nest, and produces her own workers who forage alongside the V. maculifrons workers, and over time the colony becomes only made up of V. squamosa. V. squamosa will even take over nests that have already been usurped by another facultative parasite, V. flavopilosa, which usually targets V. maculifrons as well!

in the warmera south, V. squamosa nests can become massive superstructures housing dozens of queens, used year after year. if you’ll allow me a moment of poetic speculation, most of these ancient castles must therefore contain the remnants of a tiny V. maculifrons nest at their core, the gnawed ruins of a conquered house.

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 2

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

Just over 3.5k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, 18+, mature themes

Part 1, 3

You enter the building, it’s noisy and busy in the lobby. Coming up to the kiosk you sign in and a new bracelet is spit out at you. You put it around your wrist and step past the lobby and further into the building. Sitting alone at a table in the smoothie alcove is Johnny and when he sees you his face lights up. You told yourself the night before, somewhere between coming down from your Johnny fueled orgasm and the drifts of your dreams that the first day was a fluke.

They’re all trained like this, to seem super bubbly and interested in you. It’s a ploy, a sales tactic, it’s to get you back in the door, have you pay that membership fee so you’ll be the center of attention of this super attractive, highly magnetizing flytrap. If you were a man there’d be an extremely fit, ultra flirty woman counterpart to come over and hyperfixate on you until you caved and bought a membership for the hopes of getting your hands in that tight little sports bra and the gym raked in another sucker.

They probably pay them extra too, some kind of bonus or sales commission for the trainer who racked up the most membership fees that month. Johnny was just trying to meet his quota and you were fresh meat. You ignored the empty pit that had formed at the center of your chest with this epiphany and told yourself you weren’t even mad about it. It was a ruse, clear and simple but what they didn’t know was that they weren’t gonna make a sucker out of you, that was for sure.

If Johnny was gonna use you, so be it. The joke was on him, he’s gonna put all this time into you and when your two weeks were up you’d be gone. The first thing he said to you was “Homework?” With his hand out, like there was some physical object you were meant to place in his hand. You were pretty sure he had given you a few sets of exercises to do, physical activities. Not paperwork. “Yeah, I did it.”

He looked up at you, head tilted like a dog. “Proof.” You laughed, a trill little nervous sound. What could you possibly have to be nervous about? Pleasing him? Being in some sort of trouble with this man you just met yesterday? But you couldn’t exactly shake the feeling. “I… I don’t.. have proof. But I did it.”

He sighs and gestures for you to sit down. You pull the chair out and sit across from him and he leans forward muscular arms on display as they rest across the tabletop. “I’ll let it go this time, since ye didn’t know but when I assign ye homework I expect proof.” You take your gym bag strap off your shoulder and set it down beside you. “Proof like a log book? Or something?”

The grin that grows on his face is gorgeous but condescending. “Can cheat a log book can’t ya hen? No. I need video evidence.” Your jaw drops a little. “You want me to videotape it?” He nods and smiles. You consider this, it’s a little strange, but you guess you can do that, prop your phone up and videotape your evening workout assignments. “Ok.”

He sits back in his chair and you relax. You go to get up and he adds. “One more thing, hen.” You stop and sit back down in the chair. “Got a few questions before we start today and I want ye tae be as honest as ye can. Can ye do that fer me?” This sets you a bit on edge but you nod in agreement.

The questions start out basic and non intrusive. Have you ever worked out before? Ever worked with a personal trainer before? Then they grow a bit more personal. What kind of home do you live in? Do you have any family living with you? A boyfriend or husband? Roommates? You answer them slowly but honestly.

Then the questions take on a more medical standpoint. Do you have any allergies? Any health problems he should know about? Are you on birth control or IUD? Are you sexually active? You look around to see if anyone is paying attention to your conversation but it seems not to be the case. Your mind is trying to process an answer to that last question but before you even can he looks up from where he’s been recording your answers in his phone and asks “When’s the last time you orgasmed?”

You're dead quiet. Did he just ask you that? Your ears must be deceiving you. “I’m sorry?” He doesn’t even smile, just asks you again. “Orgasm. When was your last orgasm.” You cough at the utter vulgarity of it. “None of your business.” He chides you, like you’re a child. “Nothing to be ashamed of, lass. I’m yer personal trainer.” He says it like it holds the same weight as being your physician.

When you still don't answer he begins to explain. “Yer body lass, is a very particular beast. It needs balance. A very carefully curated balance of nutrition, regular exercise, mental and emotional inputs, creative and productive outlets, and a series of stress and tension releases, among other things. As yer personal trainer it is my job tae make sure yer body is in balance and yer living as healthy and fit as I possibly can. Yer sexual health is as important as yer mental and physical health, and I’d even go as far as to argue it’s an integral part of an adult’s mental well-being and stability. We’re both adults here lass, so I’ll ask ye again. When’s the last time you had some real resease?”

Your mouth is dry, and as you sat there and listened to him you felt a little ashamed of yourself, thinking he was being lewd by asking you these, on the surface, seemingly crass questions when in reality he was just doing his job. Trying to be to the best of his ability as attentive to your needs and as thorough at his job as he could. You felt suddenly compelled to apologize for being perhaps rash and accusatory, jumping too quickly to conclusions.

Your next instinctual thought is the one you jump on, pure honesty and your cheeks flare with heat as you say it. “Last night.” And while you had been honest to try and save some sort of face you come to immediately regret your decision as the professional, serious demeanor he’d donned to pry the answer from your lips drops. His eyes are shiny devious lights, lips turning upwards at the very corners, bright white predatory teeth flashing at you from the parted lips, wolfish in their grin. He leans forward and you feel your heart beating louder in your chest as his eyes hold yours, locked and daring, his hands disappear from the tabletop.

When he speaks next his voice is fundamentally different, almost like you’re speaking to a different man. His voice is gruff, tone a whole octave lower as he growls out from his chest in a voice just loud enough to float to your ears. “Dirty girl. What were ye thinking about hmm? Did ye think about me while ye touched that pretty little pussy?” He must see the way you feel reflected across your features because his eyes darken and he continues on.

“Aye. It was me wasn’t it. What’d ye think about me doin’ tae ye. Did ye think about mah fat cock in that tight little cunt? Bendin’ ye over and sliding in til’ I’m buried to the hilt?” You felt the palm of his hand glide up over the curve of your knee, his fingers wrapping around the width of your lower thighs as they snaked up your leg while he poured filth into your ears.

“Or did I have ye on yer back, legs spread nice and wide while I feasted in the valley of yer thighs til’ yer eyes rolled back and ye were scremin’ mah name tae the heavens?” Your jaw dropped of its own accord and he smirked, fingers squeezing the meat of your leg as he held you captive with his eyes.

“Aye that’s it then.” Your mouth closes and opens like a gaping fish as you try to get a grip of the situation and stutter some kind of refusal. Some kind of response that will make you regain control of the conversation but the sudden change of direction, the pure whiplash of it puts you at a loss for words. All you seem capable of doing is yammering out meaningless syllables and the starts of words. “You- I didn’t- Wait-“

But he’s not done and he silences you as his fingers brush the hem of your sweats. The shudder that runs up your spine is violent and makes you twist in your seat, unintentionally bucking into his touch.

“Nothin’ tae be ashamed of hen, I thought of ye too last night. Fist wrapped around mah cock as I thought of that sweet wet little gob of yers. How pretty ye’d look on all fours fer me. We’re gonna have a lot of fun, me n’ you.”

With that he stands, hand removed from your leg and you didn’t miss him quickly adjusting the growing tent in his gym shorts as he rose. He leans over the table and your head cranes back as he leans in close. “Go get changed. I’ll see ye in the gym, it’s time for our first session.”

You finally manage to collect yourself in the girls locker room. Luckily it’s mostly empty as you slide your sweats off to find your panties ruined. How had it gone so sideways? You came in determined to outplay him and instead you find yourself wet and hanging onto every single one of his words like some kind of filthy slut. That’s the only word for it, you feel like a filthy little slut. Just the pure audacity of him, to speak to you in the most vile and shameless way, had you soaked.

It was the thought of him, thick cock in hand, stroking it with slow languid strokes as he dreams of you on his knees in front him, your hand replacing his, the look of pure ecstasy in his eyes as he watches you take him down your throat for the first time, bobbing your head up and down his- STOP. This is not helping. This is exactly what he wants. But it doesn’t make it easy to push the fantasy from the forefront of your mind (because actually getting yourself to stop imagining it is impossible).

You finish dressing, zip up your gym bag, place it in the locker and leave as you watch the red light replace the green. He’s waiting for you in the open gym by the free weights and when he sees you there’s a content little smile on his face, like he wasn’t just wrecking your entire train of thought with nothing more than dirty words and a hand trialing up your thigh minutes ago.

You get the first word in, you know it’s the only way you’ll be able to control the conversation, if he speaks your whole argument may crumble to dust before you’ve gotten your point across. “We need to set some boundaries. You can’t just speak to me that way. It’s inappropriate and unprofessional and I won’t stand for it.”

To your surprise he just smiles and agrees, which deflates your sails completely. But you showing up after yesterday and staying for the session even after the “inappropriate and unprofessional” talk when you arrived was all he really needed to know. He’ll let you tire yourself out like a horse with bit in its mouth for the first time. Wild horses must be broken.

“If we’re going to do this then I want you to treat me with respect and decency. Do we have an agreement?” He stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and a neutral expression on his face, and the pause he leaves between your demands and his answer makes you feel a little like a child throwing a tantrum. “Aye, lass. I’ll treat ye with all the decency and respect ye deserve. Are ye ready to get started now?”

You nod and he motions you over to a matted area of the room, free of weights and other objects so you can stretch. Something you think would go like him demonstrating and then you imitating while giving you verbal pointers, but no. It actually means he shows you once and then makes you imitate it and if it’s not exactly how he did it he comes over to you and rearranges you.

Hands all over your body pushing down on your lower back for proper push-ups, hands gliding up your legs all the way to the undersides of your ass cheeks to straighten your legs for proper toe touches, he’s sitting on your feet for your sits ups, claiming your feet are wobbling too much, leans in way too far while you’re coming up so you’re face to face when you do and you catch him several times staring at your lips, his own slightly parted, even having to tell him you’ve done your last set of ten when he was supposed to be keeping count.

When you’ve finished what he calls your warm up he explains the next steps in a proper session. “I wanna work on yer flexibility. We’re gonna have ye doin’ full on splits by the time done with ye.” And he’s smiling and laughing like it’s some sort of secret joke between the two of you.

You sit on the mat, legs spread out before you in a comfortable V. Slowly he begins to spread your legs wider and wider. They come to a natural stop and he gets between them, using those toned strong arms to push past their limitations. Your brow furrows as the burn in your hips intensifies. “Johnny, s’too much.” But he keeps going, pushing on your inner calves, stretching them wider. You roll onto your back and think that he’ll stop but he doesn’t, just climbs over top of you and continues to push. His crotch presses up against yours as he continues to split you. “Johnny!”

“Just a wee bit more, lass. You can do it. Doin’ so good fer me.” And you hate the way the praise sinks into your skin and soothes you. He’s stopped pushing, just holds your legs at this shockingly obtuse angle you never knew you were capable of achieving. You’re whining and whimpering, the ache and burn of your legs fills your mind, all encompassing and excruciating, you can feel tears forming at your waterline, threatening to spill. “Johnny, please!” And he finally relents, slowly releasing the tension on your thighs until you’re breathing heavily and lying limp.

You have time later, at home in bed recounting the events of the day, to imagine the absolutely scandalous sight the pair of you must have made. Your back on the mat, Johnny practically mounting you on the floor of the open gym as he spreads your legs wider and wider while you whimper and whine as cries of his name and “it’s too much” fall from your lips. It’s enough to make your face heat with embarrassment but also make you extremely wet.

He doesn’t move, still slotted obscenely in the space between your thighs, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist as he rubs soothing circles into your hips. The burn in your legs is slowly ebbing to a dull throb and as you lie there you wonder just what you’ve gotten yourself into but he doesn’t let you marinate in your thoughts for long as he rises and extends a hand to help you up.

What follows is him shuffling you around to numerous machines you’d have been too shy and un-knowledgeable about to try on your own, instructing you how to properly use them, the muscle groups they worked on, and setting your weights and reps for. He was very adamant about the rule of three. For the first session it was important to establish a baseline to follow, a minimum amount of each exercise that you were fully capable of carrying out. You could push your limits later but for now he wanted at least three sets of each activity.

And through it all you found that you were actually learning a fair amount about exercising that before seemed daunting and out of reach. You thought that maybe, with his help, you’d actually be able to accomplish some real tangible goals, results you could see. He finished off where the whole journey began, you on the treadmill, he set you off on a jog and spoke to you as you began to move.

“I’ve got some things tae handle, hen. I want ye tae try and keep jogging the whole time I’m gone. Do ye think ye can do that fer me?” You nod, and he walks up to the side of the machine, standing there until you look over and catch his piercing blue eyes. “Yer not just cheating yerself when you slack off, yer cheating me as well and trust me I���ll ken if ye do. I always get what I’m owed, bonnie.”

The threat in his tone chills you but he smiles as he says it and you wonder just what sort of consequences might come with a thing like that. You decide then that you’re not quite ready to find out and with that he leaves you to it.

He’s not gone long. Ten minutes tops and while you’re tired and had slowed to a lighter jog at times you know you had done as he asked and was sort of glad with what you’d been able to manage. He gets you to stop and congratulates you on a fine first session. Even pulls you in for a hug, despite the sweat that’s collected on your skin. It's longer than you’d have liked but at least he’s not outwardly groping you.

He takes you down to the smoothie alcove, orders you a smoothie and has you sit down. You take his offer immediately, glad to be momentarily off your feet. He brings you your drink and lifts one of your legs, unlacing your sneaker and pulling your sock off. “Johnny what are you doing?” He placed your shoe and sock on the floor by your chair and begins rubbing your foot. “Dinnae want ye tae be too sore to workout tomorrow. The first session can be very taxing on the body. Build up of lactic acid in yer muscles and ye’ll be cryin’ tae me tomorrow about why ye cannae come in. Cannae have that now can we?”

You sit forward as much as you can with your foot in his hand. “Actually I need to talk to you about that, I can’t come in tomorrow, I’ve got a huge work thing and I’ll be staying late to help prep the presentation for it.” He hums and switches feet, getting your sock and shoe off before he answers. “Ye can still do yer homework and send it in, I’ll give ye my number. I wanna see the same thing ye did last night on video this time and I wanna see ye practice yer stretches, ye ken?”

You nod in understanding and he begins working up your leg towards your calves, you bite back a moan at the painful but magical sensation. “And I wanna know about these things ahead of time. I’m a flexible man bonnie but I need tae fit these kinds of changes in yer schedule in advance.” You say you understand and even thank him for being so understanding, which brings a huge cheeky grin to his face.

He gets behind you and massages your shoulders as you finish your drink and the feeling of his warm hands on your shoulders and back have you on an erotic edge that you feel uncomfortable with in such an open setting. You quickly finish the last of the smoothie and rise from your seat. After you’ve said your goodbyes and he’d given you a card with his number on it you head for the locker room and begin undressing. You unlock your locker to find your gym bag unzipped and open.

It gives you pause, you’re almost certain you did not leave it this way, you’ve always had the habit of rezipping your gym bag after changing. You quickly rummage through it but find nothing missing. Phone, keys, wallet. Everything was there. You shake it off and label it as a mistake. You must have left it unzipped when you were changing and still flustered from your first little chat. Swinging the bag over your shoulder you leave the locker room and head home, waving to Johnny on your way out the door.

[poraphia]

"Cooking Stream!"

➵ PAIRING! cc!wilbur x chef!streamer!reader

➵ CREATING! 12.22.23 | 3167 words

➵ CONTAINING! wholesome cooking, reader is a chef streamer, wil is on tour, wil and reader are longterm friends

➵ SAYING! i thought this would be super cute to write. a little friends to lovers never hurt anyone hehe. also hope you like the little banner! i dont really do those so this is a first. also not proofread aaa sorry

My masterlist :)

»»———-　　———-««

"How long have you been waiting to do that?" "Since we met up at the airport.."

“Hey, Wil, I’m about to start the stream. Are you ready?” I asked Wil. From my stream viewer, I could see Wil’s lengthy figure making the barest silhouette from the dark doorframe he was standing at. He insisted on making “an entrance” for my stream, even if it meant standing ominously in the background of my kitchen.

“Maybe.” Wil replied blankly. I rolled my eyes, seeing that he was already in ‘bit’ mode.

I’ve been a cooking streamer for quite some time now. I share and teach people on Twitch my recipes live and created this community where everyone can feel safe and happy to learn. Occasionally, I even invite some of my friends to cook with me, Wilbur being no exception. This was our first time seeing each other in person, and Wilbur suggested that before his concert (which would be tomorrow) he wanted to do a cooking stream with me. It was like the stars aligned because after such a busy day, Wil specifically had a couple hours of free time to hang out with my community and me.

I stopped my intro music and took down my startup stream screen to reveal my camera, which showcased me, my kitchen, and Wilbur who was just barely visible on camera.

“Hi, friends! Welcome to the stream! Sorry for the delay, our special guest sadly couldn’t make it.” I said faking a distraught frown. I tried my best to avoid looking at chat, but just from a quick glance I could see spams of terror as they pointed out the figure behind me. I picked up a bowl and began my usual intro. “So, my lovelies, grab your bowls!” I reached over and grabbed my spatula. “Grab your utensils! and—” I looked around, acting confused. “Huh, I wonder where my chef hat is..”

Wil arose from the shadows, stomping toward me with his limbs stiff and a blank expression on his face.

“Oh, there’s my chef hat!” I exclaimed, smiling while looking at Wil. In a swift, goofy motion, Wil ducked his head down, making the hat land straight into the bowl I was holding. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing as Wil tried a desperate attempt to put the hat on my head. Once the hat laid lopsided on me, he turned around with his hands on his hips.

“Hi guys,” he smiled. “As you can see, I will not be the one leading this operation.”

“Yeah, they know.” I mocked jokingly. I placed the bowl and spatula onto the table to fix the hat. “If you guys don’t know, this is Wilbur Soot, but he doesn’t stream much anymore. So frankly, I don’t even know why I invited him.” That snarky comment made Wil nudge me on the shoulder.

“Hey! I’m still relevant on the world web!” Wil exclaimed.

“You know I’m kidding!” I laughed. “But Wil and I met like a loooong way back. Like you were doing your little livestream concerts?” I turned to look at him as he nodded to confirm my words. “And now look at you! In the middle of a whole worldwide tour!” Though he rolled his eyes in response he still had that familiar, dimple smitten smirk on his face.

I was proud to see Wilbur at his position now. I remember all those late-night calls when we would talk about what we wanted to be in few years' time. We were only small baby streamers when we first met. I did cooking streams in my parents’ kitchen and the townhouse he used to stream in was sold off long ago. Now we were in my own kitchen with tens and thousands of people watching us live, and tomorrow, thousands of more were going to watch Wil perform with his guitar and his voice.

It was time to start cooking. Today we were making strawberry cookies with white chocolate chips. I started off by giving directions as to what measurements you would need. Before I do my cooking streams, I like to post what ingredients would be needed the day because sometimes my fans would post selfies of them following my streams live while also cooking.

“So first, lets stir in our dry ingredients, yes?” I looked at Wil, who only eagerly nodded in silence. “So, of course, like all streams, I like to do my measurements while live just in case anyone needs time to catch up. So I hope everyone has their measuring utensils, because I’m about to give the measurements! And of course, I will be providing them on the screen as well.” I stated, looking at my OBS display.

Wil and I began to prep the ingredients. Each time I stated a measurement, Wil would scramble around the kitchen for the key components before emptying the powder into the bowl. I let out a small chuckle. “Wilbur, take your time, seriously! We’re supposed to be enjoying the moment.” I exclaimed.

“But but—!” Wil protested.

“Wil!”

With a defeated sigh, he slowed his movements as he scurried around the kitchen for the rest of the materials. As I stirred the flour and sugar together, I waited for Wil to come with the baking powder and salt. In the meantime, I started to look at chat.

“(y/n) is smiling a bit too much yall”

“YES WILBUR TREAT OUR CHEF RIGHT!!”

“is this (y/n)’s bf?”

Though it’s safe to say Wilbur and I had never had feelings for each other, the comments still flustered me. To prevent myself from getting more flushed, I pointed my attention back to my mixing bowl. Suddenly, Wilbur came behind me, holding the measuring cups.

“Ah, Wil—”

“This would be more an efficient way of getting our ingredients mixed in, no?” Wilbur suggested. His arms were on either side of my body, sprinkling in both the salt and baking powder carefully as his chest pressed against my back. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks from such an intimate position but tried my best not to ignore it. After he was done, he set the utensils aside and placed his hands on either side of my wrists, stirring with my movements.

Despite us both knowing that the chat was going crazy at this point, we both enjoyed the moment. Ever since Wil and I met each other in person for the first time, we had this habit of messing around with each other in physical ways. Within the first hour of us being together, we were running around the city, climbing over each other while sitting down, and Wilbur at one point threw me over his shoulder because I was “walking too slow.” It all felt completely natural to us. However, hat made me most flustered about it now in this very moment was the fact that thousands of people were watching us live!

We proceeded with mixing in the ingredients. Wilbur helped combined the wet ingredients as he gradually poured them into the mixing bowl I was stirring (of course, he again insisted that he stood over me as he poured for “maximum efficiency”). After some time with the spatula, took it out and turned towards the camera.

“Alright, so at this point of the process, it’s going to get a little hard to stir the dough, so—” I glanced to my laptop’s stream viewer and saw that Wil was doing silly faces and gestures, completely taking the attention away from me. I watched as he opened his mouth wide and inched closer to me, almost trying to bite me. Without thinking, I took my finger to get a scoop of the batter before turning around and smudging it into Wil’s face.

Wilbur stared at me in shock as a smug grin rested on my face. Swiftly, he took the spatula from my hands, gathered a large glob with his fingers, and smeared it all over my face. My cheek was now lathered with the think substance as I stared at him, bewildered. It was now Wil’s turn to start smiling with his dimples prominent as they could be. “What, you started it!” Wil argued, putting his hands up. My eyes slowly trailed to the open flour bag he had left on the counter. It was as if Wil followed my gaze, because as soon as I reached over to that bag, Wil was on the run.

“What the— Come back here, you prick!” I cried. I grabbed a fistful of flour before aimlessly chasing him around the island counter. His legs were far too long to outrun me, but that also meant he was rather clumsy with his movement as well. We returned in front of the camera when Wil began to lose balance after turning a sharp corner. I took my chance and ran in front of him before dusting him with a fistful of flour all over his apron and face.

I fell into a fit of laughter, clutching my stomach. “Holy shit, Wil! You look ridiculous!” I said in between gasps. Wil stared in utter horror, but soon enough, he started laughing as well when he saw his reflection from the stream viewer.

“This is going to be a nightmare to get out of my hair, (y/n), what have you done?!” He cried. It sent me more into hysterics, laughing as I held onto the counter for dear life. “I’m going to try and wash this out now. You better hope and pray for your restroom.” Wil said, waving me off as he made his way to my bathroom.

“In the top left drawer in my room are my baggy clothes you could wear!” I called out. I carried on with the stream, leaving where I left off. I got my stand mixer and turned on the machine so that it could start stirring on its own. I also cleaned up around the area and washed the batter off my face before reading the chat.

“Alright, chat, how we feeling about this stream, huh? Everyone doing good following along? Do you guys like Wil?” I asked. I scanned the chat, smiling at some of the comments.

“Wil and (y/n) are an iconic duo bruh”

“YES CHEF WE LOVE THE STREAM CHEF”

“I’m doing good following along :D”

“WILBUR IS SO FUNNY”

By the time the dough was done mixing, so was Wilbur, who had just finished washing up and changing his clothes. He wore a baggy Artic-Monkeys tee with gray sweatpants that suited him perfectly. “Is the dough done?” Wil said. His hair was a curly mess most likely from wetting it then drying it with a towel. His glasses rested on the bridge of his nose with his eyes just barely visible. Something about this look, whether it be his disheveled hair or the fact that he was wearing my clothes, made me blush a little.

“—Oh,” I muttered, barely realizing that he asked me a question. “Yeah, it’s done, we could start placing them on the tray now.” He nodded before coming behind me, placing hands on my waist. “Ah—! Wilbur!” he buried his face into the crook of my neck. With a defeated sigh, I turned off the machine and removed the bowl from the stand mixer. “Come on,” I said. “Help me shape the cookies.”

“Yes, chef!” he enthusiastically remarked. He stood back up, and we were back on business. We proceeded to work together to shape the cookies, making light conversation while also taking some questions from the chat. Wilbur talked about some stories he had on tour. He compared his experiences from when he used to do little stream performances to the big stage in front of thousands of people live.

Once we were done shaping the cookies, we placed the two trays into a preheated oven. I did the dishes while Wilbur offered to tend to my chat. There something so.. Domestic about Wil and I cooking. It came naturally, as if this isn’t the first time we cooked together, and it certainly this wouldn’t be the last. I scrubbed the bowl clean as I thought about the warmth of Wilbur wrapping around my body. How he nuzzled his nose into my scent, then pulling away reluctantly. A small smile formed on my lips. Though I knew deep down that I’ve never felt that way about Wilbur, and I doubt that he felt that way with me, it was still such an ideal way of moving on with life.

“Hey, (y/n)?” Wilbur called out. I shook my head and turned around to face Wilbur.

“Yes?” I asked. I wiped my hands with a dry towel before taking my place next to Wilbur, who had his waist against the counter and his hands holding himself up.

“Chat wants to do a Q&A session with the both of us. I think they’re tired of hearing about my tour stories.” He chuckled.

“Hm, I don’t think they’re tired of you, rockstar,” I smiled. “but sure, let’s do a Q&A with the two of us.”

The chat proceeded casually, and we had a fun time answering some questions. We talked about how we first met, how we grew up together as streamers, and how life has been for us more. However, there was one reoccurring question that we tried to ignore for some time, but at this point, it was rapidly coming up.

“Do you have feelings for each other?” I read out loud.

Wil and I looked at each other. Maybe it was the delusions I had, but there was something so sincere in Wil’s eyes. His eyes almost sparkled under the kitchen warm light, and his brown eyes could easily be confused for a fresh cocoa harvested from the jungle. His eyes squinted like he wanted to tell me something, but before I could ask, he turned away.

“No.” He stated but rather reluctantly. “We’ve just been really good friends for these past years, right?” He turned to me again.

“Mhm,” I hummed. My gaze then drifted to the camera. “Chat, stop shipping us together, seriously! You guys are acting like this is the first time I’ve done a cooking stream with a guy! Shame on you, chat!” I playfully lectured. But in my mind sat some heavy thoughts. I wondered if the reason why Wil was so hesitant was because he felt uncomfortable with the topic. Worry flooded my head, hoping that I didn’t ruin his time on stream.

Ding!

The oven went off, meaning that the cookies were ready. “Ah, cookies are ready!” I beamed, lightning the mood. I looked through the drawers, looking for the oven mitts. However, none were to be found. Wil noticed my confusion and came up behind me, a bit more careful on distance this time.

“Is something wrong?” He asked. His hands were behind his back as he leaned down to talk to me.

“Yeah.. I can’t find the oven mitts. Hold on, I probably left them in the washing machine room.” I turned around to face him.

“Alright, I’ll be here.” He smiled. I smiled back before moving past him, leaving the kitchen and headed down the hall to the spare storage room I had. I opened the door and looked around, finding those beige oven mitts I would frequently use while baking something. Without realizing, Wilbur was treading down the hallway.

“Ugh, where are they..” I thought out loud. I dug through the dryer, seeing if they were hiding under the freshly warm clothes. Finally, I was able to achieve the oven mitts. I stood up properly and held the oven mitts as I kicked the dryer closed. I turned around to finally get back to the stream and Wilbur. I wonder if—

Before I could finish thinking, a hand was on a hip and another hand was under my chin. Those familiar brunette curls brushed against my forehead, as I looked up to see Wilbur. His glasses were pushed up so that his face could be close to mine without any trouble. His eyes were half-lidded, almost looked like they were longing. Sparks tingled in my chest as I stared at him. A gulp running through my throat.

“May I kiss you..?” He gently asked. His voice was so low, so sensual, it was like waking up next to him after a long night of cuddling. My face burned, but not a single nerve in my body told me that I should deny his request.

I placed the oven mitts onto the nearest surface, not daring to look away from him. I could feel him getting nervous because even through the dark lighting, I could see his face turning red as the corners of his mouth twitched. Before I could even register my movements, I cupped either side of his face, and pulled him into a kiss I didn’t even know how much I longed.

His body sunk into my touch as he held me close with weak warms. His lips, soft and pink, danced with mine with a hunger I never realized he had. They were desperate, yearning for my warmth. Little did I know my movements mimicked his with just as much desperation.

Reluctantly, we pulled away as we held each other tight and close to each other’s bodies. His eyes were clouded underneath his mess of hair and glasses, but a wide smile rested on his face.

“How.. How long were you waiting to do that..?” I asked, breathless.

“The moment we met up at the airport, honestly..” He chuckled. “Come on.. You have a stream to wrap up.” Wilbur walked out of the room. His hand held mine until he was enough distance away, even clutching to my middle finger before departing. I stared as he turned the corner, joyfully greeting the chat as if nothing happened.

I realized that my cheeks were aching from smiling too much. As I listened to Wil ramble some excuse to chat as to why it’s taking me forever to return, I grabbed the oven mitts and slid down the hallway.

Maybe there was a reason why all of this felt so right. How being with Wilbur just felt so natural. I was out of frame, but I couldn’t help but stare at him.

Yeah.. I could get used to this.

»»———-　　———-««

a / n ~ aaahhh hope yall enjoyed! notes of all kind are appreciated :D and like always, thank you so much for the support.

basically tagging anyone that interacted with my previous posts whoopsies @listenheresweaty @buns-and-butter @mysticalsoot @tiredandbisexual @phxntomsdusk @themonsterunderurmom

[berrys-hide-out]

Through thunderstorms and arguments- Call for help!

Summary; Peter finds Thor and Loki training and ends up wanting to see the cool move! Too bad the god of thunder has been hanging out too much with his mischievous little brother and things take a hysterical turn.

A/N; I changed a few things from the original ask which was sent by @inneedofsupervision but I desperately hope it turned out to your liking! (Apologies again for the wait! Still recovering 🩷🫂) ENJOY!!! ✨

Warnings; tickles and a lil fancy swearing form Loki!

———————-

It was storming outside, hail clattered against the windows of cars and houses, raindrops fell like someone was dumping buckets of water onto earth and the wind changed the direction of it all every few minutes.

Peter watched in silence as the white pieces fell past the huge windows of the 100th floor of SI. He watched the clouds that sometimes lit up which was followed by crackling thunder.

It was loud, sure. Being so close to the clouds and roof; things always sounded a little louder but the soundproofed walls gave a bit of relief to it all.

The thunder could be unsettling after awhile.. you’d think he’d have gotten used to his sensibilities by now but in truth it wasn’t something that he could just ignore.

His mind wandered as he watched the spectacle, Thor and Loki were currently in the tower..

Thinking of Thor and Loki, where were they anyways? His eyes lifted and flew over the rather quiet common room.

Steve and Bucky were watching TV on the couch, Natasha and Tony sat by the table, the billionaire busy with something on his hologram while the super spy was halfheartedly watching the Tv.

“Where are Loki and Thor?” He asked as his feet took him towards the table. His voice seemed weirdly loud.. It felt almost criminal to disturb the silence.

Natasha looked at him „Probably training while the training room isn’t occupied“ Tony looked up as well „Yeah, pretty sure point break and reindeer games are trying to get along a little better.“ he stated in a bored tone, probably having heard the two gods bickering earlier today.

If Tony didn’t hear them Peter was positive Friday warned him about it.

„Alright I’ll go have a look then.“ „yep, don’t get between them Pete!“ Steve called after him wich earned him a chuckle and a two finger salute „Sure thing captn‘!“ he called before turning around, putting his hands into his pockets and heading off towards the training room.

He was two corners away from his destination when he already heard bickering. Peter chuckled, how can two gods bicker so much? They’ve been at it for hours!

„THOR! Let me down this instant!“ „Brother, stop struggling already or we won’t be able to do get help!“

Peter’s curiosity instantly spiked and he jogged the last steps, head poking into the room.

Sure enough he saw Thor holding Loki up, ready to throw while the younger squirmed uselessly.

„You will not throw me you insolent oaf!“ Loki yelled before getting tossed onto the mats, taking out the smaller ones that were standing up mere seconds before.

„I still hate it.“ Loki grumbled as he sat up. „I find it rather amusing.“ Thor grinned at his brother who sent him a dirty look „no it is not. It’s humiliating.“

Peter sniggered, earning their immediate attention. „Little spider!“ Thor grinned happily „hey kid.“

„heya! That was an awesome move!“ he grinned as he walked in, his grin widened when he saw Loki roll his eyes.

„Indeed! I am glad you’ve decided to join us on the matter! Loki doesn’t seem to be on the same page as us..“ Thor grinned and eyed Loki shortly. Peter nodded animatedly „can you show me? The whole move I mean?“

„I am not doing that again.“ Loki growled at his brother who was already looking at him with expectancy and a playful grin. The boy huffed „aw, why not? It’s such an awesome move!“ he gushed.

Loki squinted at him, seemingly trying to figure out if he was joking or not. Then his eyes caught Thors and he saw his own mischief twinkle right back at him.

Peter was about to ask something else only to gasp when Thor picked him up by sneaking under his arm „Let’s reenact the move together then litte spider!” He grinned.

The boy however could only huff. His feet were slightly off the ground and no matter how far he tried to bend his feet for his toes to reach the ground it just wasn’t enough.

With slight shock and bit of embarrassment he came to realise that was hanging there like a slack sack of potatoes.

An awkward slack sack of potatoes.

He was halfheartedly hanging over Thors neck and slightly his shoulder. The gods hand supported him by the ribs and the other held the arm that was draped over him.

Peter huffed at his predicament “can you lower me slightly? Please?” Loki sniggered at his question and shook his head as he stood up “Don’t worry Peter, it’ll get better” he reassured.

Peter did not feel reassured. The playful gleam in the tricksters eyes and the sly grin did nothing to reassure him- in fact his nerves lit up instantly and he shook his head. “No I’m su-HURE!”

The boy was interrupted by his own squeak and jump when the strong hand squeezed the spot by his ribs and he snapped to look at Thor with wide eyes and a betrayed glare. The god however just grinned down at him and winked.

Peter blushed- they were not actually about to team up on him after bickering the whole day through! Right!?

Peter heard the tricksters dark laugh rumble through his chest- if he wouldn’t have super hearing he’d only see him holding back his amusement.

“You have to stay committed little spider!” Thor announced happily as he nudged Peter’s ribs again, this time with a lot more intent as his knuckles rushed past his ribs.

Peter sputtered a laugh and he forced his legs up quickly to try and curl up. Loki grinned and shared an amused glance with Thor. “ahAhaha! nOhO! ThoHOhor!” The kid squeaked out between laughs.

Thor laughed with him and let up on the tickling. Peter’s legs lowered but before he could shoot Thor a dirty glare Loki walked closer to them “honestly Thor, don’t torture Starks kid” he mused and then squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “You need to call out for help to make it seem authentic”

Peter squinted at Loki “shouldn’t Thor be calling for help? I’m supposed to play the victim!” He argued. He was not about to call for help! Plus! He told Captain Rogers he wouldn’t get between them which basically translates do not get into trouble with them!

Loki clicked his tongue. “Details, details” he waved Peter off and went behind them.

The boy tried craning his neck as much as he could in his position but Loki positively vanished behind them.

“Y-You know what?” Peter blabbed nervously with a small grin “mihister stark said youhu were aharguing today morning-NA-HO!” He squeaked and batted at Lokis hands that were now right by his sides “come on guys I’m nohot calling for help!”

Thor hummed “Let’s help him out then why won’t we Loki?” The god in question sniggered darkly “Oh we definitely should brother”

Peter shook his head but the silly grin on his face only encouraged Thor with his and his brothers shenanigans.

“Nohoooo, come oh-HON! NoHOho!” The boy tensed and pulled his legs up again the second Lokis nimble fingers sprung into action, skittering over his sides over the thin shirt that Pete was now dearly regretting to have worn today.

“Come on Peter, just call for help and we can continue with the move” Thor tried to encourage, Peter cursed internally at the amusement in the gods voice. How dare he!

“Mmhm-noHOho!” He giggled, trying to at least make this hard for the gods by trying to hold his giggles, but alas it was all in vain as Lokis fingers sought out the spot that made him react most.

Peter shook his head and squealed when the trickster dug into his highest rib. “LOHOKIEHEE!” “My, my, seems I’ve found a sweet spot.” The god chuckled into his ear. “EHEhEYEE! nOHOh YOuhUHu HaHAveHEhen’t!” “Hmno? You’re saying there’s a spot worse than… this?” Peter bucked again when the god dug in with a lot more precision then before “NOAHA! IHI DiHIhidn’T SAHAhay ThAHAHat!”

“I don’t know young spiderling! Sure sounded like it!” Thor chuckled as he kept the boy off the ground. It was quite a task with all his squirming. Peter shook his head through bursts of laughter. Loki sniggered and let one of his hand slip to Peter’s hip.

The boy kicked out harshly and hit the poor god of thunder’s shin. The god grunted and hissed, kneeling down slightly. Loki halted before falling into mused chuckling.

“ohoho god IHi’m sohoho sohohorry!” Peter giggled as the god made his theatrics about his shin and let the kid go. Thor rubbed his shin with a soft groan “you have quite the kick little spider!” He goaded.

Peter gave a giddy smile and opened his mouth to say something before the god smirked “but not quite to take down a god yet!” He boasted and jumped the kid.

Peter screeched and grappled with Thor over the mats.

Loki shook his head at their antics. “Really brother? We had him perfectly trapped and great for the move!” He reminded and walked along the mats, watching as Thor gave the giggly kid little chance of winning.

“We still have to encourage the little spider brother! I’m sure this will be beneficial!” The god boasted.

Peter giggled wildly and fended off the gods hands as best he could “NOho! iHIhi’m not cAHalling for help!” Thor sniggered with him, the kid had a soft blush on his cheeks and playfulness was written all over his face. “But you have to! The move won’t be complete otherwise young Stark!”

Peter kicked out when Thor almost managed to pinch his ribs “THoHO-AAH!” He yelled in surprise when his leg was pulled and his knee was squeezed “LOhOKI!” He scolded playfully, sending the god a glare- but the god simply sent him a sly grin- damn his own traitorous smile!

With the short distraction Thor squeezed his ribs. “NAHAO! ThIHIHis IHIs UnfAHAhair! aHAAhAhahA!” Loki chuckled as he traced the boys knee, sending ticklish shocks through his whole system while Thor was on a journey down to his sides. “How do you mortals say, Pete? All is fair in love and war?” The trickster mused and swiped a finger up Peter’s sole at which the boy tugged at his leg harshly.

“nAA-HA! LOhOHOki!- ThOHoHOr! THIHiHIs IhIsnt fAhaHair!” Peter exclaimed again, his hands latching onto Thors wrists- yet he barely pulled at them.

“Cohome on Young spiderling! You just have to call out for help and that’s it” his amusement of the situation grew when Peter shook his head- what a stubborn little mortal..

“Alright.. well then..”

“NAHA! THOHOAHAR! CHEHEAHATEHEHER!” Peter threw his head back, fighting with his instincts to squeeze the god’s hands there which only seemed to make it worse- or try to grapple at them- which resulted in hilarious flailing.

Loki sniggered, but he couldn’t let his brother win this, mischief was his thing after all.

His slender fingers wrapped around Peter’s knee and his fingers scribbled along the backs of them.

The reaction was immediate, Peter’s leg slammed down on the mat only to jump back up with a high pitched yelp. “Oh? Are you hiding something Peter?” Loki mused and Thor let up on his tickles “what have you found brother?” “He- hehe found nohothing!” Peter protested but the two gods ignored him “See here..” Loki said which followed by his fingers squeezing and slightly wiggling into the spot. “NAHAO! LOHOKI! WehEHe can TAHAhalk Ahabout thIHIHIhis!”

The gods sniggered at the volume change each time Loki decided to continue his little game. “Aw, but we did talk Peter. You call for help and this aaaaall stops.” To let the kid talk he let up slightly The boy pouted at the god, his brown locks more disheveled then he’s ever seen them and slightly red cheeks. Loki sighed “I believe, brother, I should teach you a few things on tickling.” He stated, a sly smirk threatening to pull on his face when Peter’s cheeks flushed a tone deeper.

Thor chuckled “alright, have it your way.”

Peter gaped at him. NO WAY were they just AGREEING!

“W-Wait- Lohoki, come ohon we can fihigure this out- look youhu’re gettihing ahalong too! Mahaybe you can make uhup now??” peter blabbed as Loki moved closer and Thor away.

Loki chuckled darkly “your futile attempts of distractions are not working” peter couldn’t help the high pitched anticipatory giggle that slipped him as the god hovered over him.

“Ehe- you know- I-HAY!” Peter almost jumped out of his skin as Lokis hand rushed towards him.

“What happened Pete?” The boys eyes grew wide- oh. Oh.

He huffed and stared challengingly at the god. He’s heard of the wrath of the god of mischief. But.. he could handle it, he’s won Mister Stark’s attacks!

His challenging glare didn’t last long as the mischief practically dripped from the god. “What are you afraid of the tickles?” Loki asked as if it were like any other conversation.

Peter shook his head with a high pitched giggle. “N-no!” “No? So you shouldn’t mind..” Loki stopped above Peter’s stomach- surprised that the boy already flinched away.

Despite himself he moved his hand towards his side and flexed it- Peter, to his delight jumped again and moved closer to the god and away from the hand.

“Peter.” Loki stated and gained the boys attention.

“Whahat?”

“Are you by chance…. Air ticklish?”

.

.

.

“uh oh” muttered Peter in utter disbelief before a steady stream of giggles escaped him. Loki’s collected expression turned to one of pure delight and mischief “oh boy.. this just got a lot more entertaining.”

Peter squeaked when the younger god made claws. “NOhOho!” The boy whined through his flustered and giggly predicament.

Thor suddenly jumped from next to Loki.

“EHEEE!”

The squeal echoed through the training room much to the gods amused and adoration at the boy- the boy himself- as if finally remembering he was free, turned around and tried crawling away.

He squeaked when a strong hand wrapped around his ankle “now hold on little spiderling!” Thor chuckled. Peter laughed at the silliness- before he could however think of how to make this harder for the gods, arms wrapped around his torso “Now I gotcha!” Loki growled and flung the boy back as if he weighted nothing.

Peter laughed without either of them even touching him- “are you laughing at us young Stark!?” Thor asked in disbelief and crossed his arms. “NOhOho!” Peter tried to reassure but failed expertly. Loki sniggered “I believe he is dear brother.. better give him something to laugh about huh?”

Thor grinned “I do believe you’re right brother” he mused.

Loki sniggered “ready to call for help yet Petey?” He muttered into his ear and the boy scrunched up with a barking a laugh “NEhEhEVER!” He declared boldly.

Loki tutted and looked at his brother. “Stark said his thighs and knees are ticklish.”

Thor chuckled at the protest of a shriek that came from Peter which though was quickly drowned by hysterical laughter as Lokis fingers went into his pits.

The god of thunder didn’t wait long for his own entrance and squeezed the boys thigh which, amusingly enough, with each squeeze they gained a higher squeal out of the boy.

Loki chuckled and shook his head, the boy could lean left or right and roll off, he could even put up a fight with his strength.. and yet..

“AHYEHE! OHOKAY!” Peter barked out and the gods let up.

Loki raised an eyebrow “you’ll call for help?” He mused and waited as the boy caught his breath.

Peter stifled most of his giggles before his hand went to squeeze Lokis own side.

To the boys surprise and glee Loki jumped.

The god sent him a warning glare “peter I’d truly advise against that” “why?” The boy grinned up at the god. “May I remind you that I am a god?”

Peter’s own mischief twinkled in his eyes “Thor will probably help me..” he mused. Loki raised an eyebrow “probably?” He mused “my brother is worse than me Buddy.”

Peter’s eyes widened at that “b-but we’ll be two!” He smiled timidly. Loki huffed “Are you going to call for help or not?”

The boy’s shoulders jumped as he chuckled through his nose.

Loki grinned “Unbelievable..” he hushed and looked at Thor. “You know, there’s a specific technique that got Thor to give in when we were children.” He said and watched as his brothers confusion morphed into surprise and glee.

Peter swallowed nervously and giggled “Thihis isn’t one ohof your Ahasgardian things right?” Loki laughed “No, this works all too perfectly on mortals”

Peter shivered at the sly grin. His silly grin fought its way right back onto his face “n-now hold on, no need for drastic- MEASURES!” He yelped when Loki suddenly rapidly squeezed and scribbled his side which sent sparks through his whole body. “HEHEY!” He squeaked and leaned away- falling onto the mats, front first, the gods hand on his back. “Uh-huh- Loki?” Peter asked and hoisted himself onto his elbows as he slowly understood his position- his face would lay awkwardly on the mats if he tried to shield his armpits. But if he kept his face from squeezing onto the mats they’d be open wide.

Loki chuckled at the giddy expression on the boys face. “You gonna call for help?”

Again. Peter shook his head.

It was fair to say that the god was not only surprised at the will to play but also at the stamina of the kid.

“Oh you’re asking for it.” He smirked down at the boy.

Peter squeaked in surprise at the demeanour change but didn’t get to dwell on it as the hands plummeted into his armpits.

“LOHOKIEHEHEEE!” Peter kicked his legs into the mats to try and relieve the tickle shocks even if only just lightly- Lokis nimble fingers found the sweet spot with practiced ease and vibrated on one armpit while on the other he scribbles.

Peter was probably loosing his lil head in the playful moment but the raging storm outside was positively forgotten.

“NAHAHAY! TOHOHOR!” Peter’s new protest made Loki look back and find Thors bold hands tickle the soles of the poor kid.

Chuckles from the door which ripped Lokis attention away from his attack and his hands slowed down enough for Peter to crank an eye open. “MIHIST- EHEY!” The boy scolded through his laughter and turned to look at Thor.

The billionaire in the doorway laughed “alright you two, let the kid up. I still need him today for lab time” Thor chuckled “do not worry stark! You’ll have young Stark with you in no time.” He mused. Loki rolled his eyes and sniggered “you good kid?”

Peter laughed but nodded and pushed Loki playfully “ahabout the move; IHi’m soho on your side- but I aham also so gehetting you back someday”

Loki raised a challenging eyebrow and then slowly, his ‘claws’.

Peter squeaked and rolled away “nohot today!” He laughed and got to his feet, hands in front of his body to protect himself.

The men laughed in choir.

“Loki we should continue training.” Thor stated, full of new enthusiasm. Loki glared at him “we are not doing get help” Thor grinned at him “we should.” Loki frowned “Peter—“

“NOPE! YOU GOT THIS!” Peter yelled with a laugh as he rushed out of the room.

The two gods laughed heartedly at the boys exit with Stark and got up. Maybe they could get along for awhile every now and again.

Meanwhile let’s hope Steve will be just as merciful as mister Stark was on Peter.

“Don’t get in trouble with them, huh?” His mentor asked with his smirk obvious in his voice.

Peter rolled his eyes with an obvious smile and flushed cheeks, his hand going through his disheveled hair.

Never mind..

[rorywritessmut]

You hate your asshole boss. So, after an interview you two decide to take something for a spin

Kinktober 2023: Hate Fucking

As usual, minors DNI. Please interact with this if you liked it ❤️❤️ Enjoy!

You hated Bakugou Katsuki. He was arrogant, entitled, and full of shit. You wouldn’t let him know he got under your skin, though. You knew that would boost his ego to know the super positive and happy person you were, hated him. He was also your boss. Being the number 2 hero was already inflating his ego. Always going on and on about his obsession with beating Deku.

You are a people pleaser. Even when that person is your self absorbed boss.

So, you spent every day of your life kissing Bakugou’s ass. “Yes sir” this and “Please, don’t, sir” that. You are his relations manager so trying to control him was a pain in your ass and was wearing on your patience. You begged your company to let you be Chargebolt’s assistant when he harassed the other way. You’d rather be flirted with than yelled at constantly for using your quirk.

Gentle Touch is the name of your quirk. This entailed that just a gentle touch could calm down the most anxious person. You were also in school to become a therapist for traumatized civilians after Villian attacks. You needed a job to pay for school and your company scooped you up and paired you with your current pain in the ass.

Your quirk was used often when it came to the explosive man that is Bakugou Katsuki. You took a lot of pride in showing him how to calm the fuck down from time to time. His gravelly voice telling you to quietly “Fuck off” would make your entire day better.

Today, you broke. Bakugou had an interview with some popular gossip channel and your quirk was all used up before the first 10 minutes of it. Bakugou was pissed about the interview and the two of you almost didn’t make it on the ride over to the building.

“So, Dynamight, any special ladies in your life?” The hostess leaned over and you got a good whiff of her perfume.

“Just this bitch right here.” Bakugou pointed a finger at you, “Keeps me in line and shit”

“Oh-ho-ho, you’re in a relationship with your relations manager?”

“No!” You quickly interjected, “He means that there are no women in his life other than the women he works with, respectfully.” You always did this. You always had to clean up his crass language to keep the gossip media out of his business. Frankly, you were sick of it.

“Yeah, whatever she said.” He crossed his arms aaaand he was gone. While he was physically there, he was emotionally gone. This usually meant that you were going to be stuck answering his questions.

“Not even your mom?” The hostess teases.

“That hag-”

“No, Dynamight loves his mother very much.” You physically put your hand on his shoulder, signaling him to shut up.

“Ah, you two seem close. Tell me about yourself, oh great Relations Manager.”

“I have a useful quirk that calms Dynamight down so I was hired to keep him in line.” You regret saying that when the hostess raises her eyebrow.

“I see, so, you keep him in line and he pays your way through school? Sounds like a sugar daddy exchange to me.” She sneers, how did she know you went to school and that Bakugou paid for it??

“Listen,” Bakugou growls but you make a low sound.

“Ma’am, my desire to go to school has nothing to do with Bak-Dynamight,” You take a deep breath in, “I am just his relations manager.”

“A bitch too.” Bakugou sneers at you, narrowing his ruby red eyes at you.

“Looks like we have an enemies to lovers situation-ship!” The hostess is covering her mouth as you stare at Bakugou.

His lips quirked ever so slightly at the sight of your rigid body. You wanted nothing more than to walk off set and never see him again. Every damn time your relationship came up, Bakugou’s answers became more and more vague making it seem like you two actually engaged with each other beyond work.

“I’m done.” You clipped off your mic set, threw it on the ground, and stormed off.

You could hear Bakugou right behind you, stomping through the corridor. He called your name a few times and you felt tears come to your eyes. This job was ruining your life, if you were being honest.

“You’re not done.” Bakugou snapped and grabbed your wrist. You were brought back to reality.

“Get.Off.Me”

“No”

“Bakugou Katsuki, I am done with this job. I went on two dates with a guy and when I asked why he ghosted me later it was because he didn’t want to be involved with “Dynamight’s Girl,” what the hell does that even mean?!” You’re pushing on h8is chest with your finger, getting up in his face.

“It’s because you are my girl,” He sneers and corners you in the hallway. His arms are on both sides of you, trapping you.

“Since when?!” You’re looking up at him now.

“Since you first used your quirk on me”

“You don’t even know me” You push him with both hands and storm to your dressing room.

Of course, he follows you into the room and locks the door behind him. He stalks towards you, something unreadable behind his eyes. You back away from him until the back of your legs hits the desk behind you. You’re reminded of why you hate him so much. Of course he thinks you belong to him. He thought he was entitled to everybody around him.

“Listen to me,” He starts but you’re not having it.

“No! I am done working for you, I’ll find a different job and get myself through school.”

“No, you won’t,” He grabs your wrist and yanks you towards him. He pulls said wrist to his lips and kisses it. Never once did he break eye contact with you. You’re left speechless at his actions. “Now, quit being a brat.”

“Stop telling me what to do!” You scream and trash against him. “I don’t like you. I hate you” Venom laces your voice and you see something dark in Bakugou’s eyes.

He takes off his mask and ear pieces with one hand. He tightens his grip on your wrist and he pulls you impossibly closer. He leans in and licks a stripe from your collarbone to the shell of your ear.

“You hate me?”

“Yes, I hate you so much.” You whisper, closing your eyes. You’re losing control of yourself and you can feel your sex dripping with sudden need. Sudden need for your asshole of a boss.

“I can smell you, you know, dripping with desire,” he whispers in your ear, “I want you to turn around, pretty girl.” You stay put. When Bakugou notices your disobedience, he grabs your shoulders and turns you around.

Now, you’re looking into your eyes in the Vanity. You flicker your eyes up to Bakugou who has a Cheshire grin on his face. Your chest is tight and your thoughts are running a million miles a minute. It’s obvious from the way he’s tracing lines along your bicep, that he’s not going to hurt you. You can’t help the sudden feeling of dread and desire pooling in your stomach.

“Now, quit being a brat and listen to me,” He’s talking to your reflection in the mirror, “I always get what I want. What I want is to fuck you until you’re a blubbering mess.” You swallow something thick.

“Bakugou-”

“Katsuki. If you’re going to be my little fuck, at least call me by my first name.” Bakugou coos and runs a finger down your neck and along your collarbone.

“No. I fucking hate you, I won’t call you anything.”

“What happened to Yes Sir?” Bakugou teases.

You look at his reflection and suddenly he’s gagging you with his pointer and middle finger. Your eyes go wide and you can’t find it to be scared. Instead, you’re insanely turned on and pissed off. You bite down on his fingers and he jerks them out of your mouth. The asshole grabs your jaw and forces your hips against the vanity. You can feel his erection against your back.

“Bitch.” He sneers and you smile at the name calling. “I won’t do anything you don’t want. I am a man, though, I want to fuck you.”

You contemplate for a second, did you want this? The traitor between your thighs begged for him to fulfill his promise. Your brain though:? It was still unsure of what it wanted right now. Suddenly, you felt a tapping sensation on your temple. You looked at Bakugou and saw it was him tapping on your head.

“Don’t think too much. Just go with your gut.” Easy for him to say, your guts wanted rearranged. Slowly, you nodded your head.

“I warned you.”

“I’m going to tell you this won’t happen again,” You sneered at him. “You’re probably a pathetic fuck anyways.”

“I’ll prove you wrong.” You snorted at that remark.

With all this tension, he grabs your jaw and forces you to look at yourself in the mirror again. You grab onto the vanity and prepare for the worst dicking you’ve gotten in a while.

“I am going to tell you one time and one time only, keep your eyes on the reflection in the mirror.” You quirk an eyebrow as he begins to disappear behind you.

It doesn’t take long before he’s pushing your skirt above your hips. You try to crane your head back but you receive a swift slap to the ass. You yelp and turn your attention back to your mirror image. Bakugou makes haste by pulling down your underwear. He groans at the aroma of your gushing arousal.

You’re not prepared for him to lick from your clit to your asshole. A moan escapes from your plush lips and you feel your face heat up at the sound. Grabbing onto vanity with a vice grip, you’re prepared for the second lick. Bakugou doesn’t spend much time assaulting your clit from this position. Instead, he opts to tongue fucking the apex between your thighs. You try to not let his pride swell by wantonly moaning every time he hits something right. Which happens to be a lot.

Bakugou taps your ass cheek and teases your lips with his fingers. Is he asking for permission to finger fuck you? You make a whining sound to confirm that you need something inside of you.

“Good girl,” He praises and plunges his fingers past your labia.

“Fuck” You curse.

You can feel him smile against your sex as he slowly inches towards your tight hole with his tongue. You gasp at the sensation of his fingers curling inside your spongy canal and the assault on your asshole. Moaning his name, you look at your face and you’re surprised at the look that’s there. Your lips are torn from biting them to keep the sounds to a minimum. Your eyes have tears brimming in the corners. Bakugou continues to lick and thrust, driving you mad.

“Please,” you beg, “Please fuck me.” You can’t believe you are actually begging him to fuck you. The very man you hated so much.

“Have you been good enough? Want to see yourself fucked out of your mind? Bakugou stands and grabs your jaw. You nod your head with the little movement you’re allowed. You hear Bakugou shed the rest of his hero attire but you don’t dare turn to look at him.

“Hurry,” you plead.

Bakugou wastes little time in lining up with your entrance and beginning at a brutal pace. Letting out a strew of curse words, you let out a long drawn out moan. Using a staccato beat, Bakugou grips onto your hips to lift you up off the floor and changes the angles. He sets yet another brutal pace and you drop your head in pleasure. Bakugou slides out and pulls your hair by the scalp, making you look at yourself.

“I said to keep looking,” He growls out and you lazily look up at your image in the mirror.

You’re definitely fucked out of your mind. Your hair is disheveled and saliva runs down your chin. Your breasts have come out of your bra and shirt, nothing like you’ve ever seen before. Bakugou hums in your ear and slides back in. He thrusts and thrusts until you’re almost screaming in unison with them. There’s a tension building in your core that is threatening to snap. You grip the vanity as hard you can before your tipping point is reached.

“Katsuki,” You cry, “I’m coming.”

“Fuck, me too.” He grunts and you’re both moaning as you come down from your high.

Everything is silent as you clean up, head out, and go your separate ways. You leave in the same car but never say a word to each other. Soon, you’re home and you pass out from exhaustion.

The next day? Well, gossip gets around quick.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Monkey Crab

Debut: Splatoon 2

Today we are talking about a Splatoon character beloved by all. More popular than the Squid Sisters! More respected than Off the Hook! It’s Monkey Crab! The world-famous Monkey Crab!

Now if you didn’t notice from us using a plushie as the header image, Monkey Crab is not real. Sorry. And I don’t just mean in the sense that most Splatoon characters aren’t real! He’s not real in the world of Splatoon! He’s what we call a cartoon guy, in the business. An in-universe fictional character! 

Monkey Crab first shows up in the stage MakoMart, which is a supermarket, and the devs had to make a bunch of fake food packaging for it! There is a lot of fun stuff like Off the Hook flavored cereal, but our star here got three different types of cereal all for himself! I think this stuff is super cool, since the world of Splatoon is already so cartoony, what would their cartoons look like? Monkey Crab gives a glimpse into that world, and what a world it is!

So Monkey Crab is a cereal mascot! Case closed! He is like a Toucan Sam or a Tony the Tiger, or a Buzz the Honey Nut Cheerios! But a fake cereal guy is not bound by the rules of our world, because...

A few months later, Monkey Crab returned to us... in the Amusement Park stage, Wahoo World! Now I don’t know about you, but I don’t see a lot of cereal mascots in amusement parks, in our world. I mean, maybe sometimes they collaborate? But this means either A. Monkey Crab was a cereal mascot who achieved incredible widespread success, or B. Monkey Crab was not originally a cereal mascot, he just happened to have a cereal tie-in. I choose to believe A, because it’s funnier!

Look, here he is in Inkopolis Square, eating Cereal! It’s SO his thing! So if mammals don’t exist in Splatoon, what kind of Milk do they eat with their cereal? Monkey Crab says Don’t Worry About It! :)

Keep in mind we didn’t even have a name for this guy until a Japanese exclusive magazine, where he was revealed to be called Sarukani! Sarukani means monkey crab. It definitely is a crab, and his face sort of is monkey-ish! (Though, monkeys are extinct, right?) Thanks to the power of Japanese Google, I managed to find a picture, with his official art and everything! So I did my best to translate it, even though other people probably have before:

He greets you with an 100% smile, the most popular cereal mascot at MakoMart! His smile is so wonderful, he's been showing up lately on commercials on the giant monitor in Inkopolis Square. (He's so popular that he's even being used on skateboard designs!)

So yeah! That pretty much confirms he’s a cereal character first and formost! And his smile! It’s the secret to his success, and you have to admit it’s a pretty great smile. What about the skateboards? Uh... we’ll get to that!

Now there’s actually a Japanese folktale about a monkey and a crab, which I am reading about on Wikipedia just now. It’s about a monkey who murders a crab with persimmons. And so much more! But none of that is important right now. The point is it’s usually known as Sarukani Gassen, or Monkey-Crab Battle, which might be where the name Monkey Crab comes from? Maybe? I dunno? It’s the sort of thing I’d expect from Splatoon, but I’m not sure how it relates to cereal!

Of course, I’m only really writing this post because of Splatoon 3, which introduced customizable lockers, and lots of Random Junk to customize those lockers with! And it just so happens a lot of that junk features Monkey Crab! I have a dedicated Monkey Crab shelf in my locker, and you should too!

There’s the monkey-crab cushion from the top of this post, but how about a monkey-crab mug! Would you drink hot beverages from this? Would you drink cold beverages from this? Look at that face. He is so happy to be providing a container for liquids.

And the aforementioned monkey-crab skateboard! Of course cereal mascots are no strangers to skateboarding in real life. Do you think Monkey Crab has a radical commerical encouraging Inklings to eat a balanced breakfast and do Extreme Sports? Because I hope so!

All three cereal boxes are available to purchase too! It’s interesting how they get progressively more expensive. Is coconut cereal rarer? Is someone scalping cereal? That they sell in the supermarket?

Are you in need of a laugh? Monkey Crab is sure to make you giggle and chuckle and chortle with his comedy comic! I’m laughing out loud just looking at this cover! I’m crying with laughter! I just love Monkey Crab so much!

But of course, this has all been a lead-up to the peak of Monkey Crab’s career, my personal favorite item in his collection...

Monkey Crab in Silly Land!

Isn’t it wonderful? Just the title alone inspires such joyous whimsy! A whole Silly Land, for you to explore with your best friend Monkey Crab! Not only is it great they gave this cereal mascot an entire Switch game, but this officially makes Monkey Crab an in-universe scrimblo! Congratulations, Monkey Crab! If anyone deserves it, it’s you!

That’s all for today fellow Monkey Crab enthusiasts, but keep an eye out for our next cool post, where we write about Mister Shrug and Missus Shrug, and their spicy secrets! We’ll finally get to the bottom of... hm? Hm. I’m being told that I’m not allowed to write a post on Mister and Missus Shrug. Sorry everyone.

[elsweetheart]

i'm on my knees ppretty please elaborate the "stop looking at me like that" "fuck me eyes reader" you gagged me therapy is needed PLEASE

giggling mischievously…………. ok i actually hate what i wrote alot bye

abby used to like being busy. it distracted her from the torn apart world outside, having a fixed schedule and completing menial tasks gave her meaning. she was a creature of habit, and breaking a streak where she’d been super productive damaged her self esteem quite a bit.

however, since you’d come along she’d hated it. if she could spend all her time doing nothing with you, she would. but abby had people relying on her, so with or without you she had to get things done. you knew this, but it wouldn’t stop you from having your fun. if you couldn’t receive abby’s attention, you’d make sure she felt just as frustrated as you.

“abs when’re you gonna be free.” you clung onto her bicep as you caught her leaving the gym, damp from sweat.

she sighed, running a hand down her face. “i don’t know, it’s a busy day today. you’re gonna have to just deal, babe. yeah?” she seemed rushed, so you pout and let her go, watching her stride away.

you caught her again, the two of your schedules colliding when you’d be called in to help look at some maps to help plan a hunt. she looked so fucking good, her arms flexing as she’d lean against the table in concentration. you weren’t being much help, too busy ogling at your girlfriend. the way she’d take charge, using her brain to come up with the smartest route would turn you on, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you watched her speak. she would completely disregard you, focusing on the task at hand — and you hate to say it, but it kind of turned you on even more.

it had been like this all day, abby rushing around completing all her tasks and you — running into her wherever you got the chance to, touching her arm and batting your lashes at her. she was becoming increasingly more frustrated, so when you ran into her later in the day — giggling as you tagged along beside her, following her around like a lost puppy she knew she was going to have to put you in your place a little.

your shared friends walked up ahead, headed to their post as abby stayed behind with you, turning to you and crowding your body in against a brick wall.

“stop looking at me like that.” she scoffed, jaw tense. you furrowed your brows, eyes only growing more doe-like by the second.

“like what?” you pout and she took your jaw gently in her hand, prompting you to have no choice but to listen.

“like you want me to fuck the daylight out of you, when you know i’m busy.” she spoke between grit teeth.

“seems like that would benefit you right now, abby. you seem really tense.” you slide your hands over her broad shoulders, kneading the tense muscle beneath your fingers.

“you do realise that me pounding out my frustrations doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll get what you want. i’d watch that mouth and start behaving myself, if i were you.” she brushed your hands off her, stepping back. abby looked you over, staring at you for a moment. the look of frustration was still there, but she was scanning to see if maybe she’d been too mean. she didn’t want to walk away having upset you.

a grin spread across your face like the cheshire cat before you replaced it with an innocent expression, blinking up at her almost mockingly. “you don’t have it in you to do that abs, i always get what i want.”

abby turned her head, watching owen turn back from afar to look at the two of you questioningly wondering what was taking abby so long. she leant in, tilting her head slightly, opening her mouth to speak but owens voice cut through, yelling from his distance calling her to hurry up. she sent you a look, storming away, and you knew you were in for it later.

[vodika-vibes]

Hi! I was rereading some of your follower event things and thought one of Wrecker ones (I Can Fix That) was super cute! At least the vibes of it with it being mostly really sweet and caring.

I was hoping you could write something with vibes kind of like that one. Not exactly like the Wrecker one obviously because what I'm asking for is different.

Anyways, I am requesting the gem emerald with Gregor during sunset/dusk please! Preferably with Gender Neutral reader where the reader and Gregor are going on their first date. Both of them are nervous, but are really sweet with each other. Maybe it's the first date either of them have had in a long time or something, so they both agree to take it slow.

Great work with your writing! Can't wait to read/see this when it gets written!

First Time In Forever

Summary: You’ve not been on a date in ages, so you’re hopeful that this date with Gregor goes well.

Pairing: Captain Gregor x GN!Reader

Word Count: 627

Prompt: Emerald - Patient Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Hi there! Thank you for your request! I hope this is close to what you wanted. I didn't actually write the date, because that would have definitely put me over my self imposed word limit, but I hope you like it anyway.

You haven’t been on a date in what feels like ages.

It’s not your fault, not really. You’ve been so busy, what with the war and everything, that it kind of fell to the wayside, but things are different now.

The war is over.

And you’re able to get back to your normal life.

Of course, normal is subjective, and people just haven’t been interested in dating you.

You were starting to worry that you were never going to make a connection with anyone…and that’s when you met Gregor. Kind Gregor. Handsome Gregor.

Gregor who smiles at you like you’re a little confusing but keeps coming around anyway.

Gregor, who asked you to get ice cream with him today. Who sheepishly, and bashfully, admitted that it was a date but he was a little nervous using that word since you don’t date.

You weren’t sure how to tell him that you didn’t date because people weren’t interested in you, so you didn’t. You just accepted his offer. You like him, after all. He’s wonderful.

But now that today is here, you’re kind of…panicking.

You’ve been dumped by every person you’ve ever been on a date with. Clearly this is a ‘you’ problem since you're the only common denominator, and the idea of Gregor breaking up with you because of some personal failing that you aren’t aware of is…terrifying.

But, at the same time, you can’t not go. Because that might upset Gregor and you can’t do that.

So, after fretting over your appearance for a few more minutes, because it’s something you can control, you finally leave your apartment to head to the meeting point you and Gregor agreed on.

The both of you arrive at the same time, and the moment you see Gregor all of the nerves fly away, as though they were never there to begin with. How could you be nervous with him grinning at you like that? Like an excited schoolboy.

“You’re here!” He even sounds excited, and your heart does a little flip, though not from nerves this time.

“So are you.” You tease with a small grin.

“Well, yeah…” He pushes his hand through his hair, “I…ah, was kind of worried that you weren’t going to come.” Gregor admits, “My brothers had to reassure me that you would.”

“Well, honestly, I was a bit worried that you would change your mind when you saw me.” You admit as you lean closer to him, “I haven’t exactly had good luck with dating in the past.”

Gregor stares at you, “Never. I would never. You’re amazing. I’m a lucky man that you agreed to come on a date with me.” His smile is slightly lopsided, “But, uh…it’s been a bit since the last time I dated-”

“Oh, same. I haven’t been on a date since…Force…before the war started.”

Gregor releases a giggle, before he shakes his head, “Well, since it’s been a while, for us both, do you mind if we…go a bit slow?”

A smile blooms across your face, and you reach out to take his hands in yours. “I like you, Gregor. I think you’re funny and smart and kind and good…and I’d like to see where this goes. We can go as slow, or as fast, as you’d like.”

He squeezes your hands, “Well, I’m hoping for a possible forever with you, so there’s no need to rush, right?”

You beam at him, “Well, as it happens, I’m a very patient person.” You squeeze his hands back, “Because your hope sounds perfect to me.”

Gregor flashes a small, shy smile and then threads his fingers with yours, “Well then, shall we get this date started?”

“I can’t wait,” You reply with a small grin as you squeeze his hand.

[nonbinarypirat]

Learning how to be selfish (another iruma focused deep dive. Spoilers for iruma kun manga)

I promise I won’t ONLY focus on iruma as a character. I plan to do a post on many characters and scenes, especially since I have been breezing through the story. As a hobbiest writer and actor, I love to go back and reflect on scenes, read them multiple times, and learn why a character did what they did. And I want to share these thoughts with y’all. It’s just that, I have hit Opera becoming a teacher and decided this is the perfect time to take a pause and reflect on this new side of iruma we are seeing poking through. (And YES I most definitely screamed when they became a teacher, my nonbinary icon.) so yeah, I plan to make a lot of posts, but it’s another iruma only one today. Take a shot every time I say selfish or greedy in this tho, I repeat it so often. No thesaurus is being used today.

Ok, im loving that Iruma is becoming more selfish. I especially loved Iruma telling Purson that he’s learned that it’s ok to do selfish acts and stick with what you want to do rather than doing what people want or expect of you. This is the first sign of Iruma breaking out of just saying yes to things. Saying no can be so difficult, especially if you have lived your entire live thinking that was the only option for you to do. He’s too kind, and trained, so he said yes to basically anything even at the risk of hurting or exhausting himself. I appreciated this moment because Purson similarly doesn’t feel like he has many choices. He loved his family and wants to support the family business, but feel dragged along with the whims of his father.

Though I guess it’s kind of a misnomer to say that the scene with Purson is the “first” time we have heard greedy being applied to Iruma. Amelie was the first person and at first I didn’t fully get what she meant. I think I kind of just dropped that part of the conversation as unimportant. But it’s actually super important for us as the audience to understand his character going forward. At the beginning, Iruma didn’t have a lot of motivations, merely being led by whatever happened in the Netherworld. He was in a manner of speaking, selfless to an unhealthy degree. It was only by learning to set a goal for himself that he started to feel (at least to me) as an active participant to the world at large. And Amelie was the one who inspired that in him in the first place. Amelie was the first one to call him selfish/greedy (to my recollection) which is fitting as the character who pushed him so far.

I also think I should clarify that I don’t use the term selfish in this case as a negative. In fact, I’m happy he is becoming a greedy character. Because Iruma won’t abuse this trait of his. Selfishness without kindness and care is dangerous. Without empathy and compassion, greed quickly turns into cruelty. Iruma has these traits though. He has the morals and love to utilize his selfishness to the fullest. Selfishness and kindness can go hand to hand. In fact, I think this is the best quality for one to have. The desire to strive towards your wants while understanding that you can’t treat the people and environment as expendable. And Iruma has the deadly combination of selfishness, caring, and determination.

Which leads us into the 13’s Dinner in which they talk about food bringing out who a demon really is. I loved this scene because it highlights what people could see on the surface when faced with Iruma’s gluttony (aka greed). Baal said “it’d terrifying to think of what he’d be like as a king” (paraphrasing) but that’s without understanding the core fundamentals of who Iruma is. We see him try to force this idea onto Sabro too, saying iruma is pushing his grandfather’s weight around to turn him against Iruma. That’s just widely untrue. Baal, and honestly so many of the Six Fingers from what we’ve seen so far, believe that people are just like them. That deep down, they are (or could be forced into) the rotten type of selfishness that their group takes pride in. True, people can be forced to do cruel things. That doesn’t mean thats who you are fundamentally however. Baal lacks the love that Iruma is overflowing with. And so he equates selfishness with cruelty. He thinks that if he experiences this certain flavor of the trait, that must mean everyone else experiences it the same way too.

Either way, Iruma is a character that is shaping up to be someone who has many desires. From zero to infinity, And what makes him so likable is that he’s willing to do anything to protect those desires. To protect the life he has built and the people he has come to cherish. He wants it all. His friends, soulmates (and yes you better believe I will post a screaming post about that at some point), Amelie, family, good food, fun, adventure, Balam, Kalego and so much more. He wants everything. And he’s also willing to do anything it takes to protect these desires. More than that, he’s always grateful to the life he has built here, to the people who have opened up their hearts to, and for the beautiful home he has created. And that’s the reason why I can’t wait to see Iruma grow into the wonderful selfish person he deserves to be.

[saursoob]

can you do a bf!yeonjun apologizing after an argument? please make it super fluffy!

❤︎ |i love you much more| ❤︎

yess ofc anon!! idk if this good enough but pls enjoy 💗

warnings: y/n is a overthinker, yeonjun refers to y/n as “pretty girl”

@saursoob reblogs r okay! please don’t repost

you and your bf yeonjun haven’t been hanging out much as of recently now that he’s been traveling for tour. you’ve been very supportive of his job but its been lonely. when you first started dating it was bearable but the more you got used to him in your life that started to change.

but you can imagine how ecstatic you were when you found out he was he finally coming home. you decided to get ready, putting on some light makeup even though it was late. you and yeonjun had been together for a over a year now but you still wanted to look your nice for him as its been a while since you’ve last seen him. as you were getting ready you received a text from your bf, yeonjun: “y/n im not going over today im super tired. ily” you pouted at his text feeling upset that he wasn’t coming but more confused if anything “he always comes over and “ily?” why didn’t he say the whole word?” ultimately you decide to push your thoughts away and respond back. y/n: “its alright. rest well!”

-

the next morning you text him to hopefully make up for the previous day of him not going to see you. y/n: “junnie come over today! i miss youu”

yeonjun: “i have a busy schedule today but ill try.” your heart sank at his cold laced tone. why is he being so weird? if hes mad at me he should just tell me. you sigh and put down your phone, scrolling on netflix to watch something to make you feel better

more under cut!!

hours later you hear a knock on your door, you secretly hoped it was your boyfriend even though you’re slightly mad at him. “hey” he says while you open the door, it was him. he goes in for a hug, barely even touching you when he does but you didn’t say anything.

“why are you here?” you asked him. silence filled the room as he went to lay down on your couch, taking out his phone and mindlessly scrolling on it. you looked at him in disbelief, aggravated on why he was acting like this. “yeonjun, are you mad at me or something?” you tried to keep your voice composed but failed to, your words coming out shaky.

“why would i be mad at you?” yeonjun says, not fully paying attention to you still looking at his phone.

“i dont know? yesterday you didn’t come over to see me which you never do, didn’t even bother to call but instead texting me and not even saying i love you properly?! and now you are here but you don’t even hug me properly either?? yeonjun, you were gone for so long leaving me here to miss you but you don’t even seem like you’ve missed me! ” you got so angry that unknowingly you started tearing up.

yeonjun immediately focused all his attention to you, standing up to face you. cupping your face with his hands and wiping a tear with his thumb, “darling, please don’t cry. im sorry i didn’t even realize that i didn’t hug you properly.” he says in a soft spoken voice while going in to hug you tightly.

“yesterday i was so jet lagged that i just went home ready to knock out for the night. i know this is no excuse for it but work has been so tough lately, tour’s, dance practice, schedule, interview appearances. its just a lot but please y/n i’ve missed you so much.”

he says while softly lifting your jaw for you to look at him “i’ve missed you more than anything, so please don’t think that i didn’t.”

you answer looking away from him, “yeonjun, could’ve have slept here.”

“i know and im sorry babe i wont do it again i promise.” he says leaving a peak on your nose

“lets make up for it right now, yeah?” yeonjun leads you to your bedroom, laying down first and patting on his chest signaling for you to lay down on him, you do as he signaled, getting comfortable on his chest.

“you know this isn’t gonna make up for it choi yeonjun” to which he chuckles at, “mmm i know, what if i make you breakfast in bed in the morning lovely?” you cant help but light up at his comment “you’re staying the night?! you don’t have any schedules in the morning tomorrow?”

“nope” he smiles looking down at you “you did say i have to make it up to you, right?”

after a while of being in the comfort of his chest and hearing his heartbeat yeonjun suddenly sighs deeply, playing with your hair. “you have no idea how much i love you y/n.” making you smile in a sleepy haze

“ i love you much more, yeonjun.”

!! reblogs are vv appreciated !!

ENDD!! im actually so nervous to post this since im not that confident in my writing but if you enjoyed thank you so much 😣 <33