#zee writes

[biboomerangboi]

Eddie standing in Steve’s kitchen being mid conversation with Robin and just in general being in Steve’s way. Now normally Steve would just budge past him but with Eddie especially he’s worried about being a jock/bully and react like Steve’s shoving him. So Steve just puts his hands on Eddies waist and picks him up then plops him to side because that seems nicer, then just goes about getting stuff from the fridge. Meanwhile Eddie is bright red and having an error 404 message blaring in his brain.

[wasteddmoondust]

teacher || james potter

pairing: james potter x reader 863 words, preschool teacher au, james is a single dad (not for long...?), kindergarten teacher!reader, gender neutral reader, harry is her student so you know how it goes a/n: sorry this took months i have been in the slumpiest slump ever. hope you enjoy :,) I'm not too sure about how preschools fair in other countries but this is mostly based on my own experiences!

"Mr Potter! Lovely to see you today."

James walks into your classroom, and it's humourous to see you seated in a chair and table meant for six-year-olds.

He smiles at you and waves. Unfortunately, you're swooning on the inside.

Yes, it's unprofessional to have a crush on a parent, let alone the parent of one of your beloved students. Very unprofessional, actually. But you can't help but be enamoured by his looks. He looks exactly like his son, Harry. Messy hair and gold-rimmed glasses.

Or maybe he's just one of the only few parents who are the same age as you. And it doesn't help when you know he's a single father and always strikes a conversation with you whenever he has the chance to. In your head, maybe it wouldn't hurt to make a move.

"Of course, I'm happy to be here today, though it's the last time," he says as he sits down in an identical tiny chair.

You know you have to push these thoughts aside, because this was the last parent-teacher meeting for your kindergarteners who will be graduating in a few weeks. No matter your feelings, your job was to tell parents how their child has faired so far in their education.

You take a deep breath and fix your hair. "Okay, let's get started."

You adore Harry, a joy to have in your class. He is very friendly and communicates very well with his peers and teachers. He actively participates in class. He is developing well in the different aspects. You explain everything in layman's terms so he can understand, and he nods along, listening.

"Needless to say, Harry's definitely ready for primary school. If you'd like, it would be great if you continued his learning at home as well, before he officially starts school." you finish, nodding at James. You unconsciously bite the inside of your cheek, knowing that it won't be long until you'll never see this man again.

"That's great," he says, looking up from Harry's portfolio from over the year. "Harry really appreciates you as a teacher, you know? He always loves coming to school."

You smile at that, it warms your heart. "I'm glad to hear that. I'll definitely miss him when he graduates."

There's an awkward silence between the both of you, not particularly knowing what to say. You both nod and look down. You know it's the end.

"Well..." you start. "If you don't have any more questions, that will be it. Thank you so much for joining us on this journey, Mr Potter."

"I do have- um- a question?" he says abruptly. He suddenly seems more fidgety and nervous, gripping the binder of Harry's portfolio.

"Um..." he scratches his head. You look at him expectantly. "I appreciate you as Harry's teacher, of course. He always says that you're very nice and pretty... I also think you're very nice and pretty..."

You nod along, trying to keep your cool by controlling your facial expressions.

He continues, his shoulders slowly rising in a shrug. "So if you'd let me, we can meet outside of school for once," he spits it out quickly like he's ripping a band-aid off.

Blinking slowly, you process what just happened. "Did you just ask me out?" you ask, eyes wide.

His eyes dart to the side and then back at you. "Yes," he says.

"Mr Potter-" you start.

"Please, you can call me James-"

"Your son is my student."

"He won't be by next week."

"It will be very unprofessional of me-"

"I don't hear a no, though..."

And you're both in silence again. You sigh and bring a hand to your face, resting your chin on your palm as you look away from him. You try to think of your next move.

Aside from all of the consequences that may occur, this is a golden opportunity. Your teacher life always gets so hectic and you barely have time to go out and meet people. If you miss this chance you may never get to have one like it again.

You bite your lip and accept whatever fate may come.

You speak in a hushed voice, willing that no one hears this conversation. "Fine, yes. I'll give you a chance. But if anything goes wrong, my priority is my job and yours is Harry. Got it?"

James let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He looks up at you with sparkling eyes. "Yes, okay. I will-"

He's cut off by a knock at your door. Your colleague opens it and her head pokes into your classroom. "Hi, sorry to interrupt, but the next parent is waiting outside," she says. You nod at her and she leaves. You stand up, and James does too.

"Well, this is... unofficially goodbye, Mr Potter. It really has been a pleasure teaching Harry," you say, stretching your hand out for a shake. He takes it, and his hand is warm.

You mutter quickly to him, "My contact is in the binder."

He grins at you, childlike, and you watch him leave your classroom with a wave. You wave back, smiling.

You sincerely hope you won't regret this decision.

a/n: RRRAAHHH i really hope to make this a mini series of some kind because i have the softest spot for kids and i start being a real teacher in a month! asks are open if you have any thoughts <3 thanks for reading!

[thepowerofswayze]

Crush

originally on ao3

pairing: mike schmidt (2023) / afab reader [gender not specified]

word count: 3K

warnings & info: 18+, first time together, mostly smut, oral sex (both receive), you're abby's babysitter, reader wears a bra, compliments like "pretty"

summary: Abby can't help but tell you all of Mike's business- specifically, that Mike has a crush on you. Luckily, the feeling is mutual.

☆

You were tucking Abby into bed when you caught her staring at you, brows furrowed. “What’re you thinkin’ so hard about?” You asked, tapping her nose.

The girl scrunched her face. “You’re really pretty,” she said, burrowing herself into the blankets. “It makes sense that Mike has a crush on you.”

Not sure you heard her right, you blinked, then laughed. “Very funny,” you sighed, giving her an eye roll and a smile.

“It’s true!” She was sitting up now, undoing all the work you’d put into tucking her in nice and tight. “He’s, like, extra weird around you, like, super fidgety and staring at you. And he fixes his hair before he opens the door every time you come over. And he’s all smiley on the phone with you. He’s never smiley.”

You tried not to betray the way your heart fluttered and instead put on a face like you're deep in thought. “Hm… Well, I’m not sure you’ve convinced me. But how about we talk about it when I’m back tomorrow? Right now, you should be fast asleep, girl.”

Abby was obviously not buying that you’d be willing to talk about it later- and, in fact, you were hoping she’d forget the conversation- but she yawned and lay back down, allowing you to re-tuck the sheets. Her eyes were already dropping as she said, “I’m right, you know.”

You gave her a nod. “I’m sure. Goodnight, Abby.” With a kiss on her forehead, you stood from her bed, turned out the lights, and slipped out the door.

As the door softly closed behind you, you made your way into the kitchen and started cleaning up from dinner. Abby’s words didn’t leave your head. Sure, kids loved misreading things or teasing their siblings, but Abby was a smart kid. She didn’t usually tell you lies. You shook your head, smiling a little at how the butterflies in your stomach stirred. Getting this worked up over intel gathered from a ten year old was silly.

That didn’t mean you thought about anything else as you worked, washing dishes and straightening the living room, picking up stray clothes and tossing them in their rightful places, sweeping the floor when you were done and still restless. An hour or two later, you collapsed on the couch, TV remote in hand. The only things on were Late Night, a rerun of 90s movies, and the infomercial channel. Seth Meyers tempted you from the NBC channel, but when you saw Clueless would start playing in 10 minutes, you settled on the movie reruns. You turned the volume up, just enough to hear it from the couch, then lay your head on the arm rest, doing a terrible job of keeping your eyes open.

It was like you blinked and the room was suddenly dark. In reality, it was hours later. You heard rustling, watching the figure in front of the now switched off TV turn toward you. “Mike?” You asked, knowing already from his posture and the way his hand ran through his hair that it was him.

“Sorry,” he said, mouth quirking up as he watched you stretch and yawn. “I was gonna let you sleep.”

You shook your head sitting up and patting the spot on the couch next to you. “‘S no problem,” you managed as he sat, letting your shoulder press against his. “How was work?”

Mike made a noncommittal noise, ducking his head as you turned to look at him, eyes adjusting to the lighting. The purple under his eyes wasn’t extreme, but it was there. Along with his permanently disheveled hair and week-old scruff, he looked the way the noise sounded. The exhaustion did nothing to hide how handsome he was, though, and you felt the usual rush of adrenaline as you kept studying him. “It was work,” he replied, hands fidgeting in his lap. “How were things here? I see you and Abby cleaned.”

You snorted, and you could swear he smiled genuinely. “Yeah, me and Abby.” You were fully awake now, eyes falling on his restless hands then flitting away to the blank TV screen, still warm. In your mind, a checklist appeared and you involuntarily checked ‘fidgety’ and ‘smiley’ off. “We worked on her homework. Oh, and we ate your leftovers… Sorry...”

He was looking at you now, one eyebrow raised as you gave him a grin that definitely didn’t convey any remorse. “I’m sure you’re so sorry,” he scoffed, eyes leaving yours but scanning your face now. ‘Staring.’ Check. God, this wasn't going to leave your mind, was it? “You didn't have to clean, you know. Thank you.”

Now it was your turn to make a noncommittal noise, accompanied by a shrug as you looked away. “No biggie. Helps me think, anyway.” When he ran his hand through his hair earlier, was that normal? Or was that a ‘fixes his hair when you come over’ occurrence, right in front of you? Suddenly his shoulder touching yours was all you could feel. You couldn’t live like this. “Abby said something funny, actually.”

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he hummed. “Yeah? What’d she say?”

Well, no point in dancing around it. “She seems to think you have a crush on me.”

You could swear Mike’s breath caught. Your shoulder left his as you turned to watch him now, eyes trained on his face. He glanced over at you, then focused on his fidgety hands. No way. “Oh.” There was no way. Your eyebrows raised as he wiped his hands on his jeans. The seconds ticked by. He was too quiet. “What, uh.” Another beat. You watched as he swallowed hard, throat bobbing. “What d’you… think about that?”

Mentally, you pumped your fist, and thanked the universe that kids were so committed to spilling everyone's secrets. “I dunno,” you responded. His obvious nerves were weirdly soothing to yours. Maybe it was the near confirmation that whatever this was, it wasn’t one sided. He was looking at you now, eyes a little wide at how close you two were, faces really only inches away. You could smell his cologne and the coffee on his breath. “I don’t think it’d be all that bad.”

“Yeah?” He barely breathed the word, and it sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes dropped to your lips, and yours did the same to his. “Well.” His voice was low and thick, like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “I guess we’d probably have to do something about that.”

It was a slightly awkward, very Mike type line, but it might as well have been a Shakespearean proclamation of love the way your stomach did flips. “Probably,” you whispered back. “Definitely.”

His hand moved, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear, and you were barely breathing now. You leaned into the touch, his hand cupping your cheek, his calluses rubbing against your skin. The look in his eyes was going straight to your head, and you leaned in, tilting as your noses brushed.

A second ticked by. He whispered your name. “Are you… you’re sure?”

“Mike,” you breathed, eyes half closed already. “Kiss me.” And he did.

His lips were a little chapped, you thought. He was kissing you gently, and the friction of his stubble against your face was actually kind of nice. His free hand was gripping your waist now, sure but gentle, and your own hands traveled from your lap to his chest, where his heart was beating so hard you vaguely thought he might have a heart attack. As one of your hands moved to the back of his head, tangling in his hair, he let out a noise and the air shifted.

It wasn’t anything crazy- a rather content sigh was all- but it went straight to your stomach. Then lower. You shifted, a hand on his face to guide him as the kiss deepened, while the other tugged at his hair. He reciprocated eagerly, and you faintly registered how sweet he tasted. Another noise escaped, not a little gasp or sigh like you’d both been letting slip, but almost a whine in the back of his throat. You weren’t gonna manage to pull yourself away at this rate.

He chased your lips as you pulled back, just a bit, for air. “Mike,” you murmured. His responding ‘Hm?’ was so eager, you almost dove back in right there, and his thumb on your hip bone just under the hem of your shirt wasn’t helping. But you wanted something else. “If you wanna… We should go to your room.”

His eyes were wide again, and he stood almost abruptly. “Yeah. Yeah, we- cmon.” He took your hand, leading you through the hall as if you weren’t at his house every weekday.

You’d been in his room before, but you’d never been on his bed. You’d never sat with your legs tucked beneath you as he kissed you, his hands now on your waist under your shirt, your hands pulling at his loose curls in ways that made that throaty whine come back. He was gonna be the end of you.

He tugged at the hem of your shirt, and you smiled into the kiss. “Okay,” you murmured, pulling back to take your shirt off. His breath was trembling as you threw the garment to the floor, immediately working on getting his shirt off, too. It joined yours, the start of a pile, and you barely had a moment before his lips were on yours again, his hands back on your waist, on the small of your back. Yours played with the top of his jeans, your thumbs hooking into his waistband. He shivered beneath your touch. “Off,” you murmured, working on his button and zipper. He helped you get them off, helped you get your own pants taken care of, so you both sat there in your underwear.

You looked at the tent in his pants, then back up to meet his gaze. He was looking at you with wide eyes, glancing from your face to your chest. Lower. He took it all in with the same awed expression. His hand traced your side, and you took his face in your hands and kissed him.

Mike’s hands loved to roam. He ran them over your hips, over your thighs, up your back to the clasp of your bra. He fumbled before it released and slid off easily. The air was cold, but his hands quickly came up to replace the fabric, thumbs brushing over your nipples gently.

He pulled back momentarily. “Can I…” The tremor in his voice was too good. It took everything in you not to interrupt him with another kiss. His voice was low, pleading. “I don’t have any condoms. But I can still eat you out.” Then, quickly, “If you want, I mean.”

‘If you want,’ he said. Was he crazy? “Yeah.” You kissed him gently- once, then again. “Yeah. I want that.”

You lay back on his pillows, which smelled overwhelmingly like him, and watched as he climbed over you. His mouth met your neck, kissing gently, trailing down to your collarbone, your breasts, your stomach. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and you lifted your hips to let him tug them off.

Mike’s face was ridiculously reverent. Heat overtook your skin at the sight of him between your legs. He dragged a finger down the slick pooling on you, and your breath quivered. A kiss to your inner thigh. Then to the other one, stubble scratching the sensitive skin. Then his mouth was on you.

The feeling of his tongue tentatively lapping a stripe up your core made you squirm, breath ragged. He did it again, making sure to linger on your clit, then again and again. “That’s good,” you huffed out, and he sped up, the praise spurring him on. One of your hands found its way to his curls, while the other came to rest over your mouth. He sucked on your clit, and you let out a cross between a gasp and a moan. “Fuck, Mike.”

He answered with a groan of his own, obscenely pleased with the reaction he was getting from you. As he continued, one of his fingers slipping inside and pumping in time with his tongue, you bit one of your own fingers in a weak attempt to muffle yourself. His mouth was hot against you as he whined like this was just as good for him. Another finger slipped in, and your head pushed back. You gripped the sheets, chest heaving. “Just like that,” you gasped. The sound of his fingers plunging in and out of you and his mouth sucking on your clit filled the room, a vulgar combination. With his own muffled moans and your gasps added on, you were sure you’d lose your mind.

Your hips rolled up, just about riding his face and fingers. He let you, his free hand moving to cup your ass, his tongue still sucking and working even as he let you choose the pace. “Shit.” You could feel it now, the familiar sensation in your stomach. “Shit, Mike, I’m-” A gasp. “‘m so close.”

“Come on,” he murmured, not even pulling away, his voice reverberating against you. “Please.”

How was he begging for you to come? You glanced down at him in disbelief, and wow. He looked good like this. His head bobbed eagerly, his hair a mess where your hands had been, where one hand still was, his face flushed. You gripped his hair and he made a noise so indecent, it had your mouth falling open as your orgasm crashed into you.

He stayed on you as you rode out your high, slowing down his ministrations, fingers slowly pulling out of you. When you released your grip on his hair and he lifted his head, you were speechless. His face from the nose down was shining from the mix of your slick and his own spit. He brought his fingers up to his mouth, licking what was left of you off, and you all but growled as you pulled him up for a kiss.

He huffed as your hand traveled to the front of his boxers, feeling the wet spot he’d left and his fully hard dick underneath. You smiled into the kiss, continuing to feel him out. He made little noises into your mouth, and you drank them in hungrily. “Fuck,” he murmured, and you stopped.

Mike whined, his eyes searching yours as you pulled away. “Don’t worry,” you reassured him, just as out of breath as he was. “C’mon. Your turn.”

He just about scrambled to comply, switching places with you so he was lying where you had just been. You climbed over him, straddling his hips and leaning down to brush your lips. You traveled down to his neck, kissing and sucking, leaving marks that had him downright whimpering under you. Then, down to his boxers. You kissed him through the fabric before pulling it off with his help. He took in a breath as the air hit him, and you wrapped your hand around him immediately.

“Shit,” he breathed. You wasted no time stroking him, slowly at first, watching him squirm. Then, just as you sped up, you put your mouth on the tip.

Now it was his turn to put his hand in your hair. He was gentle, not quite pulling to the point of pain, but you could definitely feel how much he was enjoying you bobbing your mouth down his length, anything not in your mouth clasped in your hands. If his hand hadn’t been in your hair, he was vocal enough that’d you’d still have a very good idea.

“Fuck,” he babbled, whispering your name followed by a particularly desperate moan. “Fuck, you’re so pretty. It feels so good, so-” He cut himself off with a whimper, holding his hips down so he wouldn’t buck into your mouth, afraid he might hurt you. He was close anyway, and he told you as much in between breathless grunts and groans.

You removed your mouth and he whimpered at the loss before your hand replaced it, keeping up the rhythm as he dropped his head back. He stopped holding his hips down, bucking into your hand shamelessly. “Go on,” you encouraged. “Give it to me.”

He rambled on, your name on his lips as he climaxed and released into your hand. You kept going, guiding him through it as he came down, chest heaving. God, he looked too pretty with that hazy look he was giving you. You told him as much, and he flushed with a sheepish smile, pulling you in for another kiss.

You stayed that way, kissing him as his hands squeezed your hips, until he pulled back smiling. “I should clean us up, probably,” he murmured. At your protesting whine, he shook his head and shimmied out from under you. “If we keep this up I’m going to stop caring about our lack of condoms.”

He disappeared into the connecting bathroom, leaving you with your mouth open and a new throbbing between your legs. He was right. If you two didn’t slow down, you were maybe a couple touches away from also throwing caution to the wind, which wouldn’t work out in either of your favors.

He returned with a damp washcloth, already cleaned up himself. You held out your hand and he wiped it off, then your thighs. He tossed the cloth in the hamper in the corner of the room, then rummaged through his drawers, pulling out a shirt and turning to you. “I, uh. This should be better than nothing, yeah?”

You held out your hands and he tossed it at you. “Thank you.”

He pulled on a pair of fresh boxers while you tugged on his shirt- it smelled like him, his cologne and something that just screamed ‘boy’. You watched as he made his way back to the bed and you scooted over, letting him climb in next to you, pulling the covers over you both.

“You… you are staying. Right?”

You grinned, nodding at him. “Yeah. I’m not driving home right now.” You pressed a kiss to his temple, and he all but melted. “Besides, I wanna hang around with you longer. I like you, in case I hadn’t made it clear.”

Mike huffed a laugh, his hand sliding under what was now your shirt- you were never giving it back to him. Not until it stopped smelling like him, anyway. “Good. I like you, too. A lot.” He kissed your forehead, and you hummed, nestling into him as his thumb made lazy strokes on your hip. “Goodnight,” he whispered into your hair. You drifted off to the sound of his breathing.

[tawaifeddiediaz]

of epiphanies

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Evan “Buck” Buckley/Tommy Kinard

Rating: T

Chapter: 1/1

Word Count: 4,085 words

Snippet:

After he meets him the first time, Buck sees him everywhere . It’s not that he doesn’t know who Tommy Kinard is. He replaced Tommy, after all, after the other man was transferred to the 217. He’s heard all the stories of him, from other members of the 118 that have moved across the other shifts. He’s heard them from Hen and Chim, too. After the rescue that frankly, would’ve gotten them all fired had Maddie not revealed the truth, it’s like Tommy remembers what it was like to be at the 118 with Hen and Chim, what it was like to be under Bobby’s captaincy.  Buck sees him on the nights they go out to drink, sitting in the corner laughing with Chim about an old memory. Eddie sits next to him as they listen quietly, chiming in with an anecdote of their own when the opportunity presents itself, but otherwise, Eddie stays a silent line of warmth at Buck’s side as they pick at the labels on their beers. He sees him during the afternoons where they all play basketball, or baseball, or whatever they’re in the mood for that weekend. He’s included easily in the games, the way everyone is, and they have fun with it. Tommy and Eddie have the same streak of competitiveness, but Buck and Eddie have an understanding that makes them come out on top, every time. He sees him at the station sometimes, too — catching up with Bobby in civilian clothes. Bobby’s told Buck about the reasons he’d decided Tommy would be happier at the 217, but watching them catch up like they’re old friends, Buck’s not really sure he understands any of them. Hell, Buck even sees Tommy with his own best friend, laughing away with Eddie about baseball stats, sparring in the gym, and even talking about the damned helicopters. It all forms a picture that Buck struggles to truly comprehend. (Buck is not jealous that Tommy seems to take to everyone like a duck to water, and he is not jealous that he even gets on with Eddie in a seamless way that even Buck hadn’t managed to do easily.)

[Read on AO3]

[zee-rambles]

Raph: U-um…D-Dad…there’s this…someone I really like-

Splinter: Aw! That’s wonderful! Anyone would be lucky to have you, my son.

————

Mikey: Dad! Dad! I think I might be in love!

Splinter: That’s great. Make sure to take Raphael with you as a chaperone.

Mikey: Daaaaad!

————

Splinter: Please, just, FIND someone. I can’t believe your only love was a jacket!

Donnie: Not true. I have another love.

Splinter: Really?

Donnie: SCIENCE!

Splinter: *Facepalm*

————

Leo: Yo, Pops! You’ll never believe it! I met someone-

Splinter: I FORBID YOU FROM DATING UNTIL YOU’RE THIRTY!

Leo: WHAT!?

——————————————————————————————————

Save Rise

[seths-rogens]

cardboard houses, cardboard hearts | M | 1.9k | ao3

should’ve been finishing my infidelity au, but instead the cardboard joe cutout i was given inspired me to crank this out in one sitting,, anyway, please enjoy :)

—————

Eddie often thanks God that he took the leap and moved to Indianapolis after he finally graduated high school. Not that he really believes in God. Just… figure of speech and all. Though, maybe he’d believe in God if they were a metalhead with tatties and an eyebrow piercing, but he thinks that might ruin their image honestly.

He’s getting off topic.

Eddie often thanks God for Indy in moments like these. Moments where he has a fucking beautiful man pinned to his own front door, strong, thick fingers tangling in his hair as Eddie desperately tries to fit his key into the lock. He shoves his thigh between Pretty Man’s legs - he didn’t catch his name - and presses upwards. Pretty Man whines, grinding down and making it all that more difficult to unlock the goddamn door.

“Hold on, Sweetheart. I just gotta-“ Eddie bites back a groan as Pretty Man kisses down his neck, sucking a bruise over his pulse as the key finally slips into the lock. Chrissy’s never gonna let him live the marks down.

He’s surprised he picked anyone up tonight at all. He’d gone to a concert alone for once, as Chrissy was staying at her new girlfriend’s place, and Gareth and Jeff weren’t the biggest fans of his guilty pleasure artist ‘King S’.

And honestly? In any other world. Eddie wouldn’t be either.

King S isn’t his usual style. Where Eddie usually loves a hard drumline, thrashing guitars and lyrics you can only scream, King S is all soft melodies and crooning vocals set to slow drum beats.

He’d stumbled upon him completely by accident, honestly. It’d been a slow day at the record store Eddie manages. He’d been there for nearly five hours and so far he’d only served maybe three customers - and two of those customers were an old couple shopping for their granddaughter. So he’d picked the first magazine he could reach off the stand by the counter, and flipped it open to a random page.

It’d been an interview with King S, who’d just released his first album at the time. He was talking about his inspiration for making music - his best friend and little brother who, he’s quoted as saying, ‘always ragged on him when he played his pop shit in the car’ - and the meaning behind his stage name - reclaiming an old high school nickname he’d been given after his brief stint as a bit of a mean girl, though now he promises he’s using it for good.

He’d flipped the page to find a double page spread of King S curled up in a bathtub. His eyes were squeezed shut through the lacy masquerade mask that was supposedly his staple (no one knew his real identity after all). His hair was messy and flying all over the place. He was…

He was naked. Or at least that’s how it seemed.

His arms and legs were bare, the black and white photo only emphasising the toned curves of the muscles in his arms and back and the dark hair covering those lush thighs.

Call him obvious but Eddie had been intrigued. He knew they’d received a new shipment of records that morning that weren’t supposed to be hitting the shelves until the next day, so he figured what the hell!

Ten minutes later, elbow deep in a shoddily painted green wooden crate, Eddie emerged victorious with King S’s debut album ‘Robins and Tadpoles’ in his hands.

The album cover was two people’s hands clasped together, matching ice cream cone tattoos on both wrists. There was a little dedication on the back. To R & D.

He took it out to the turntable on the shop floor and dropped the needle. When the soft music started, he was hesitant, but as the album moved on he quickly realised he was hooked.

He’d gone into the shop bright and early the next day - on his day off no less - and bought the album. Only slightly laughing at the look on Mike’s - part time Lit student, part time cashier, full time grump - face.

That had been two years ago, and Eddie had been solidly on the King S train since.

Sure, Gareth and Jeff - and Grant too when he was in town - would tease him about abandoning his people, about betraying the freaks and the weirdos, but really they supported his love for the artist, even if they didn’t quite get it.

So when King S announced a stop in Indy on his second album tour, the guys (and Chrissy) had banded together to get him tickets as an early 26th birthday present. Except when the day came, they were all busy, so he went by himself.

He didn’t mind really, was just happy to be there to appreciate the music. (And the man himself, Eddie has eyes, come on now.)

Elated and feeling just a little self fulfilled after the concert, Eddie had gone to his favourite queer/metal bar, Crash. He’s picked people up there before, sure, but they’ve all been metalheads, just like him, and as many of his friends have said in the past, he’s cursed to have the hots for the preppy jock types.

Usually, that’s not the type of guy he’d find in Crash. Tonight was different.

Eddie had been sat at the bar, thinking about King S’s arms beneath the crimson sweater he wore on stage, when a gorgeous man had stepped up beside him to buy a beer. The man was wearing a dark, charcoal coloured t-shirt under a light grey Members Only jacket, paired with light blue levi’s.

Eddie kinda felt his jaw hit the floor. Could this be the perfect end to the perfect night?

This brings us back to now. Eddie finally pushes the door open, swings Pretty Man around and pushes him back against it.

He drops his keys somewhere. It doesn’t matter. He’ll find them tomorrow.

They’re grinding fast against one another now, only their harsh, panting breaths filling the silence of Eddie’s apartment. Eddie slides his hand into Pretty Man’s hair, tugs on this side of too hard. Pretty Man moans, loud, almost echoing, and tilts his head to the side, baring his neck for Eddie to defile.

Eddie leans in, presses his lips to those two little moles, and—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie pulls back to look at Pretty Man’s face. He’s still, not looking at Eddie, instead staring with wide eyes into the open plan of Eddie’s living room.

Eddie follows his gaze and… Oh. Yeah. He forgot about that.

See the King S tickets hadn’t been Eddie’s only birthday gift. He knew this would come back to bite him in the ass, but his friends thought it was hilarious. Eddie thinks they’re assholes.

Because Pretty Man is staring at a life size cutout of King S, standing by the wall.

Eddie winces, pulls away. This guy might not look like a metalhead, but he was in a metal bar, there’s no way he listens to King S. He’s gotta come up with an explanation for this, and fast.

“Um, yeah… About that… would you believe me if I said I didn’t buy it?” He asks sheepishly, avoiding Pretty Man’s eyes.

“You’re a fan?” Pretty Man asks, except he sounds dejected, which Eddie thinks is weird. And actually? Fuck this guy. He’s allowed to like whatever he wants.

“Yeah, man. What’s wrong with that? Maybe it’s not for everyone but King S actually makes really good music.” He gets more than a little defensive, takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest.

“No, no… that’s not what I meant.” Pretty Man raises his hands placatingly.

“Then what did you mean?”

Pretty Man sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “Don’t you recognise me?”

Eddie furrows his brow in confusion. “Do I like, know you or something?”

Pretty Man raises his eyes to the ceiling like this is difficult. “Really? Nothing?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t…” Pretty man nods, sighs, and then walks past Eddie further into the apartment. “Hey, you can’t just—“

“How about now?” Pretty Man asks, stopping right next to the cardboard cut out.

Eddie flits his eyes between the man and the cut out, trying to understand what Pretty Man is getting at until he sighs again, pulls down the sleeve of his jacket to reveal…

A tattoo of an ice cream cone, and suddenly it all clicks.

Oh. Oh no. That’s… oh holy ever loving fuck.

“Holy shit!” Eddie exclaims, pointing frantically between Pretty Man and the cardboard. “You’re King S!”

“Yeah. It’s uh, Steve, actually.” Pretty Man, King S, Steve nods, seeming much more shy than he was ten minutes ago. He’s curled his arms around himself, trying to make himself shrink. Eddie feels bad.

“Did you think I was trying to sleep with you because you’re famous?”

“I mean, weren’t you?” Steve won’t meet his eye. Instead he’s staring around the room, taking in all the little details of Eddie’s life.

Eddie takes a step towards him. “No, man. I just thought you were pretty, that’s all.”

“You really didn’t know who I was?” Though he still looks unsure, Steve finally meets his eye.

Eddie shakes his head, coming to a stop in front of Steve. “I didn’t even buy that thing, dude. My friends thought it would be funny because you’re like, the only non-metal artist I listen to.”

Steve smiles at that. He really is so pretty, Eddie can’t help but think. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, man. Heard your first album right after it came out and I was hooked!” Eddie laughs softly. “I used to be a little bit narrow minded when it came to music, but I heard yours and it’s like the world of music blasted wide open.”

A pretty pink blush spreads its way across Steve’s cheeks. “Oh, uh… That’s really cool. I’m glad you like it.”

“I was at your show tonight, actually.”

“You were?”

“Yeah!” He shrugs. “I used to play in a band in high school, we were never very good but I liked to think I had good stage presence, right?” Steve nods and Eddie grins, leaning in a little. “I was nothing compared to you. It was fucking electric, I felt like my skin was buzzing.”

Steve’s smile seems to grow even wider. He sways forward into Eddie’s space, almost unconsciously. “This might be crazy, but do you wanna start over? Forgo the one night stand and just, I don’t know, get coffee or something? I know this cute little 24 hour place, Victoria Street, it’s only a couple blocks away.”

Eddie narrows his eyes a little. “Stevie… barely anyone knows Victoria Street. Are you, dare I say it… local?”

Steve’s cheeks darken even further. “Maybe.”

Eddie laughs. “Then, I’d love to start over. I wanna get to know you as Steve, not King S.”

Steve slips his hand into Eddie’s, tugs him

back towards the door. “God, how much do you know..?”

“I may have read a couple interviews.”

Steve groans, embarrassed, as the door clicks shut behind them.

Then, a few moments later. “Shit! My keys!”

The date goes well. As does the second, and the third, and so on, and so on. They’re officially exclusive by date 7.

Steve meets Chrissy and the boys on date 20. Eddie meets Dustin and Robin, right before date 45.

On date 94, Steve presents his third album to Eddie. There’s a different dedication on the back cover this time.

To E, my love.

——————

taglist: @judasofsuburbia @gothbat99 @cheatghost @flowercrowngods @fastcardotmp3 @simplebtromance @gonzofromspace

lemme know if u wanna be added to a permanent taglist for anything i do in the future, i’m thinkin’ that might be funky :)

[meowriddler]

So ur telling me I’ve been obsessed with the same white man for two years now….

[zeemczed-blog]

Pointless Cosmic Horror Godstuck WOO!

She remembers being human very well. Remembers the search through endless volumes of occult lore, looking for the release. Remembers endless hours scouring bookstores for the good shit, only to run several of them out of business with her aggressive search. Remembers the slow unlocking of the gates in her mind, until she was right there, right at the cusp, her mind about to flay open - and then he was there, foiling everything. For a second. Just long enough for Rose to put out both his eyes with knitting needles. And then she completed the rituals, and the dark came in, and in, and in, and she was one with the dark, and pierced by it, and drowned by it, and one with it… And then all was dark. But not. And then it split. And she poured out. The eye and the light and the skeins and the path and she was glorious. 

And glorious.

And glorious. 

She is the Seer. And she remembers being Rose Lalonde. And she can still be her; it's often convenient to be her. It takes a little effort. That’s all. 

And she will make the effort today.

She has an appointment to keep.

-o-

She remembers being human. 

Honestly most of the time she can’t believe that she isn’t human anymore. 

He did not pursue the path; the path was in front of him, and taking it was the quickest way to (save them all/save herself/change everything/change herself/kill the bastard) and so as she pursued the path it never occurred to her what was at the end.

Really it should have.

He was she before the first third of the path was completed. She was one with the storm by the halfway point. When did she lose her skin? Doesn’t matter. Easy to form new. Better skin. People will never know that they’re just touching wind. 

The god thing? That’s fun. She is the storm that speaks, lightning in a bottle, the flux manifest, the trickster rabbit. But at the end of the day, she’s still June Egbert.

Because she wants to be. 

-o-

She remembers being human. 

Sort of.

She was quite young, you understand. And when you’re that young, and you’ve crossed the Pale Gate and into the Realms Past and into lands you can’t go if you have a voice or breath in your lungs or blood in your veins then - well.

Well.

I mean what do you do?

You press on, because that’s your only option.

You know what you’re losing each time, and you keep going, because you’ve lost too much, you can’t get it back, all that’s behind you is a crypt, all that’s in front of you is… you don’t know. But something.

Something.

Did she laugh when she saw the Green Sun for the first time? 

Maybe. No - no, she didn’t (no air in the lungs), but she could have. As she saw it she knew what was going to happen. It was impossible. It was also impossible not to. When she opened her mouth wide, wide, wolf-wide, impossibly wide, and swallowed the endless fire. When she became the Sun, the Wolf-Mother, the Spark and the Void, the Emptiness in All, the Green.

And then she could breathe again.

Yes, she remembers being human. And she isn’t anymore, but she can fake it for a while. Because she doesn’t think it’s really so different from just being herself.

Now if only Jade Harley was a little better about remembering to hide the ears…

-o-

He doesn’t remember being human.

Honestly, he thought he was, but he knew deep inside that he wasn’t. A gnawing, terrible ache of knowledge even as he pretended to be. 

He tried to cut himself once and his skin refused to break.

Again, and nothing.

Again, and it did, but there was no blood, just a trace of oil, and the skin sewed itself shut in instants. 

He was too fast, too graceful, too… just too. 

Too hungry.

Ate everything in the kitchen, whenever there was anything. HE stopped stocking the kitchen, started eating outside. Forced him to smuggle food into his room, to hide it, so he could try to ration it, to slowly fight the hunger within. 

Again, and oil.

Again, and oil.

Again, and he saw the cogs within. Wheels within wheels within wheels. He crawled inside his own arm, and explored for weeks, and when he emerged, he knew what he was. 

He burned the apartment down when he left. The crows followed. The crows would always follow.

Human? He doesn’t know how to be human. He’s Dave Strider. He is Iron-sharp, Tempo-perfection, the Pulse-and-Flow, the Last Knight, Crow-Friend, the Burning. 

Mostly he’s the first one on that list. 

And he’s late for lunch. Again.

[crystalromana]

Everyday I'm rewriting stranded.

[biboomerangboi]

​I’m writing a stobin platonic soulmates au so I thought I’d share some headcannons I came up with for things I believe Steve and Robin did pre season four to cement their friendship.

Steve cut Robins hair because she was going through a mental freak out about how she felt like an entirely different person now and she wanted to reflect that before school started, so she tried to do it herself cause shes broke and Steve who cuts his own did it for her.

Decided to watch all the horror movies in family video to see if their was any survival tips they could glean from watching and ended up comforting each other through triggering parts and laughing at other things together because a lot of this looks fake now in comparison.

Took the kids to the arcade and went in cause it was to cold to sit in the car and they hadn’t got their jobs at family video yet. They ended up getting into a really long and really competitive game of air hockey that gathered a crowd because they both were to competitive to give up. Robin used the angles strategy, Steve used jock reflexes. He won the first game, now they go after work some nights and have rematches. They are currently tied.

Speaking of family video, I feel like they did the applications together and Robin corrected Steve a lot on things I forgot to put down, or fixed his wording to sell himself more because he has things like: played basketball, and not “was captain and therefore have leadership skills cmon Steve.” They also broke into Steve’s dads office to write them and used a lot of his fancy paper.

Came up with a joint backstory for Ericas Dnd campaign where they are twins. Robin is really good at the roleplay and Steve gets really good roles. When Robins character died and she gave a speech both Dustin and Steve cried and since then he’s tried to convince her to run off to Hollywood to be an actress so he can be her trophy husband and Robin rolls her eyes at him.

Got one of those two ring joint floaties and sat in Steve’s pool to help him with his fear of his backyard. They started talking about their biggest fears together and it helps.

Robin gets Steve to come to hippy Christmas but he’s to scared to show up empty handed so they both try to make a bunch of Christmas cookies but they keep getting distracted and some of them are burnt. Robin hides it with icing. Her parents love Steve after that.

Steve comes out to Robin when they both go to a party together, get wasted and end up hungover and puking together in the bathroom. He said it was cause it brought back memories.

Robin doesn’t have a lot of money come Christmas so she goes thrifting and upgrades an old bomber to make Steve something like a letterman since she’s noticed he’s uncomfortable wearing his own. He cries because it’s the first time someone has ever made him a present before.

Steve accidentally overhears people talking about queer stuff and spur of the moment drives himself to Indy and finds the bookstore they were talking about and buys Robin any book the cashier recommends. She hides them in Steve’s house and reads them religiously.

They have a plan to go to a gay bar during Spring Break. They would have went before then but Robin didn’t have a fake ID and Steve had to get in contact with his old crowd to get her one.

They legit have a plan to get Married once Robin graduates, but she wants to come out to the kids first so there’s no misunderstandings, they both just want the security and the safety what a lavender marriage could do for them and have very detailed plans on how to arrange elaborate affairs while doing this. In contrast their wedding plan is either a courthouse or if Will gets to them Vegas.

Robin encourages Steve’s inner mean girl. She also is mean and they both have a very cutting commentary on half of the family video clientele. When Erica comes by she joins in. She is also holding them to the free ice cream bet so they both have a swear jar they both contribute to as an Erica ice cream fund. It was Robins idea.

Robin actually can drive and she does drive at night on backroads in Steve’s car when the kids aren’t there. Steve thinks it’s a cool little chilling out ritual, he’s literally horrified to hear she doesn’t have a license and that’s why she doesn’t drive in the day or with the kids.

Steve brings Robin to babysit the kids a lot and she complains for a bit until Mike says she’s like the cool dad and Steve’s the weird overbearing mom. Steve makes a joke about Karen that is so cutting Robin chokes on her drink but she doesn’t complain after that.

Half of the marching band, Kieth and the some of the kids (Dustin, Mike and Will) think they are legit dating, when they are asked they both make gross sounds and pretend to puke but five minutes later they will be sitting on top of each other.

They are banned from being on the same team during charades because the second Steve stood up and made a single gesture Robin got the answer. The kids thought it was a fluke at first then Robin stood up and Steve did the same damn thing. Dustin is convinced the Russians gave them mind powers.

They have a lot of sleepovers. At Steve’s, Robin sneaks in around the back and uses a key she copied and never told Steve about, he genuinely believes she’s breaking in and is impressed by it. Steve climbs in her window and hides under her bed when her parents come in.

So much more but that’s about the gist of it. They just love each other dearly and mean a lot to me!!! They are best friends forever I swear!!

[wasteddmoondust]

little family || remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader 1,258 words, single mom! reader, established relationship, FLUFFY FLUFF, kid fic, maybe i just crave domesticity a/n: back to back fics like who is she... (had this in the drafts for a WHILE) omfg guys this was soooo crazy indulgent I'm gong crazy no i did not proof read but i hope you like it anway

Remus is just about to leave work when he gets the call. He sees your contact name pop up on his screen, Y/N <3.

"Hello?" he says when he picks up the call.

"Hi, Re," you reply. You voice sounds rushed and anxious. "Do you happen to be free today?"

"I am, love. What is it?" he asks softly, stopping in his tracks to listen to you.

"Something came up at work today that I have to stay and handle, could you pick up Lyla from daycare?"

Lyla, a little girl equivalent to a ball of sunshine. Though you had only been dating for over a year, he sees her as his own.

"Of course I will. I'll bring her back to yours?"

"Yes please, thank you so much. I'll buy takeout for dinner when I'm done. You okay with that?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll go pick her up now."

He hears you heave a sigh of relief over the phone. "I appreciate you so much, I love you."

He smiles. "I love you, too. I'll see you later."

Remus reaches the daycare and realises he doesn't know what he's supposed to do. He walks by the window and sees Lyla colouring in her classroom. She notices the movement and looks up from her drawing. He can't hear her through the window but she's jumping around and cheering at the sight of him, waving excitedly.

He waves back at her, smiling, then notices one of her teachers gesturing to meet her at the entrance.

She gets past the gate to the classroom, leaving Lyla behind. "Hi, I know you're here for Lyla but since you're not her mum I'm going to need your ID," she says pulling out a file from one of the shelves.

He pulls out his wallet and gives it to her and watches her scan a list of what seems to be names of parents of the children.

She takes a few seconds and finally says, "Ah yes, Remus Lupin. You're on her list. I'll get her for you." He watches the teacher look into the classroom and call Lyla.

And then he realises. He's on the list. He's on the list of people who can pick Lyla up from daycare. You put him on the list of people who can pick Lyla up from daycare.

He's snapped out of his thoughts when he hears Lyla's voice. "Remoose!" she yells, running up to him.

"Hiya, angel," he says and picks her up. His heart melts as she immediately wraps her arms around his neck for a hug. "Mummy will join us later, but for now it's just you and me, okay?"

"We can watch TV?" she asks. "And then- then play toys?"

"Mhm, that sounds like a good plan," Remus replies, and they head to your home.

Later, you turn your key to your flat and open the door. You can hear the television playing a movie and the sound of your daughter's laughter. You kick off your shoes and walk into the living room.

Remus is covered in the fake makeup from Lyla's child-friendly kit. His hair is also adorned with little flower hair clips. He sits cross-legged on the floor while she sits in his lap.

"Looks like you had a lot of fun without me, hm?" you say. Lyla jumps at the sound of your voice, immediately running to you.

"Mummy! Remus fetched me today!"

"I know, darling," you kiss her cheek. "I asked him to. Did he take good care of you?"

She nods aggressively. She runs back to Remus, who is already walking up to you.

"Well don't you look pretty today," you tease. He smiles and breathes a soft laugh.

"My makeup artist is talented. She's very serious about this," he presses a kiss to your forehead. "You hungry? I can heat up dinner."

"That'd be great, and then it's time for this bug to go to bed," you pick up Lyla. "Isn't that right?"

She lays her head on your shoulder, visibly getting sleepy as it gets closer to her usual bedtime.

"Say good night to Remus?" you turn your body, so she faces him.

Remus bends down to kiss her hair, "Good night, angel."

Lyla slowly closes her eyes, "G'night..."

Putting your baby to bed goes smoothly, and she easily winds down as she is tucked into bed. She snuggles into her blanket and looks up at you.

"I like it when Remus fetches me from school," you hear her mumble.

You smile at that. "Really?"

She nods. "I really like Remus."

"I really like Remus too, darling."

"I think you get very happy around him, Mummy," she whispers. "You were not very happy last year, but now I see you be happy with him. So I'm happy."

You feel your heart do something. Jump? Lurch? Lyla was right, being a single parent comes with its challenges and you can admit a lot of late nights were spent biting your nails and wiping tears from your cheeks. You tried your best to prevent her from seeing you in that state, but you know she's observant enough for her age.

And that's why you're so thankful to have met Remus. He accepted you despite the fact you had a whole child. He saw you not only as you but also as the mother of your child. He understood that Lyla would always be a priority to you over romance (unlike most men you've met). Despite all its complications, he has been able to fit into your lives as if he's already meant to be there.

A prime example could be taken from today. Surely he could've said no to picking up Lyla from daycare, he's just her mother's boyfriend, after all. But he agreed and handled the rest.

"He does make me really happy," you say to her. "Does he make you happy too?"

"Mhm! He always plays with me and watches shows with me. He also hugs me and kisses me. He makes me happy. He's like my Daddy."

You chuckle, trying to hide the way your heart is going crazy at that. Somehow, you take the leap. "You want Remus to be your Daddy?"

"Can I call him my Daddy?" she asks, her eyes hopeful.

"You'll have to ask him tomorrow," you say, and you wonder what his reaction would be.

"Okay, I'll ask him tomorrow. Good night, Mummy."

You kiss her forehead, "Good night, darling."

You walk out of her room to see Remus placing your plate of food on the table for you. Without saying anything, you approach him and hug him. He hugs you back.

He is silent for a while, swaying your body slowly as you hug. "You were in there for a while, what were you talking about?" he mumbles into your hair.

You take a deep breath and look up at him, chin resting on your chest. "I love you," you say.

He furrows his brows but nods anyway. "I love you, too."

"Lyla wants to call you her dad."

Remus stops swaying. What is he thinking?

"Okay," he says, simply.

You jerk your head back, "Really?"

"Of course, I love her too, you know. I'd be honoured."

Chuckling, you bury your head into his chest and squeeze him. You feel him press a kiss into your hair.

"We're like a little family," he whispers to you. And you can see it too. You, your daughter, and Remus altogether as one.

And there's honestly nothing you want more than that.

a/n: SO LIKE UM this has been in the drafts about the same time as the james one like i said this is just very very indulgent brainrot i still have plans for the james series!!!!!!! ty sm for your support <3 likes and reblogs are always appreciated.

[thepowerofswayze]

just for you

originally on ao3

pairing: mike schmidt (2023) / fem!reader

word count: 993

warnings & info: 18+, no beta, mostly smut with just a little fluff, established relationship, reader has breasts and a vagina, reader is called a girl, references to later piv sex, fingering, reader comes, mike doesn't, readers birthday! yay!

summary: Mike wakes you up on your birthday :)

note: this one feels a little rushed to me but that's alright. also, not even my birthday, but who cares. happy birthday to me!

☆

You woke to a soft smattering of kisses pressed to the back of your neck. The early morning sun slipped in through the windows, warming your face as you blinked your eyes open. Mike was behind you, your back pressed against his chest. His arm was draped over you, his hand resting on your stomach, as he continued to place sweet kisses down to the nape of your neck and back up to the start of your hairline.

You smiled a little, blinking fully awake. “Hey,” you whispered, moving your hand to lay on top of Mikes, your thumb rubbing along the back.

He hummed, kissing the dip between your neck and shoulder, stubble scraping lightly against your skin. “Morning,” he murmured, voice still gruff with sleep, though clearly he’d been awake a little longer than you had.

Mike's hand began to roam, innocently running up and down your side. You sighed contently, moving your own hand to reach back and feel for him, but he gently took your hand in his, humming a “Mm-mm” as he curled his fingers over yours. You turned back, raising a brow just a bit, repeating the noise to him inquisitively.

He gave you a crooked little smile, leaning down to kiss you as his hand returned to your side, moving under your (his) shirt. “Just you right now,” he murmured between kisses, his hand finding your breast and circling your nipple with his thumb. “You’re the birthday girl, after all.”

Oh. Right.

“Well, I won’t say no to that.” You smiled into the kiss, then pulled away and shifted to lay flat on your back. Mike hovered over you, propped up on one elbow, kissing your neck. His hand trailed away from your breasts, down your torso, until he slipped past the edge of your waistband.

You let out a shaky breath as his finger found your clit, rubbing slow, light circles. His lips found their way to your shoulder, leaving little marks that no one else would see, as his fingers picked up the pace and the pressure.

You let out a moan, quickly clamping your hand over your mouth. You had to be quiet, you remembered. Abby was just down the hall. She didn’t have school, just a sleepover later in the day, but she was likely to wake up soon regardless, and you didn’t want to be the reason.

Mike kissed just under your ear before whispering, his voice low, “Quiet for me, baby.” Then, at your responding muffled whine, “You can be as loud as you want later tonight. I’ll eat you out till you can’t stand it. I’ll fuck you hoarse, if you want.”

He was fucking evil , saying these things and expecting you not to cry out in response. Still, you nodded eagerly, moans reduced to gasps and whimpers with great effort, mouth falling open in silent ecstasy as he pushed two fingers into you. He kissed you, and you took the opportunity to moan a little louder, his mouth muffling the sound.

When he pulled back to look at you, Mike’s pupils were blown wide. “All I wanna do today is make you feel good, baby,” he breathed, his thumb rubbing heavy, sloppy circles on your clit while his fingers pumped in and out of you.

“‘S Good,” you managed, breathless as your hips began to move, grinding down on his fingers. “So good, Mike, it- Shhhhit .”

You could hear his breath catch at his name on your lips. As much as you loved getting all his attention while you just got to lay there and enjoy it, you couldn’t wait to fuck him later. Maybe you’d ride him until you simply couldn’t move anymore, long after he was spent, a babbling mess beneath you. Maybe you’d take him up on the offer to eat you out all night, watching his hazy expression as he got drunk on you, as if he was enjoying it just as much as you were.

Minutes passed, and the anticipation, the whispers against your skin, his fingers working on you tirelessly- it was all driving you to the edge. “I’m- fuck , baby- close,” you gasped. Your breath came rapidly, the need to keep quiet slipping from your mind almost entirely as you neared your release. Mike murmured your name amongst his stream of encouragements, nipping at your ear. His fingers curled inside you, and you were gone.

You folded the pillow over your face as you came, trying to muffle your cries, eyes squeezed shut. Your hips slowed to a stop, but Mike didn’t let up, fingers still moving as the pleasure hit you in waves. “That’s it,” he was saying, pressing kisses to your jaw. The words barely reached you through the blissful haze. The pillow fell away as the loudest of your cries turned to small groans and pants, your eyes still screwed shut. “Look at you,” he murmured.

When you managed to open your eyes, brow furrowed still, Mike was looking at you with something akin to awe. You put your hand on the back of his neck and dragged him down for a kiss.

Finally, you came down, your body relaxing, and he removed his fingers. You watched, still panting, as he stuck his fingers into his mouth, eye contact unwavering. Your breath shuddered.

Mike kissed your cheek, then your nose, letting you bask in the feeling. After a few minutes, you let your hands card through his hair as he pressed his forehead to yours, his thumb making lazy strokes along your hip. He kissed you softly, then nudged his nose with yours. “Cmon,” he said. “You go take a shower and I’ll go make you breakfast. How’s that sound?”

You gave him a smile, barely getting a “Perfect” out before he was scooping you up in his arms. Letting out a yelp, you wrapped your arms around his neck, laughing as he carried you to the bathroom.

[tawaifeddiediaz]

mine (his)

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Rating: E

Chapter: 1/1

Word Count: 8,159 words

Snippet:

His voice is rough to his own ears, scraped over his tongue, and he must’ve been staring for a little too long, because Buck’s smile falters, lips parting as realization creeps into his expression. Exhaustion flees his eyes for something alert, leaving Eddie confident that he’s not alone in this. His Adam’s apple bobs with something nervous and Eddie’s transfixed by the slow movement of it under the thin skin of his strong throat. He wonders what sound he could pull from Buck if he scraped his mouth along the movement, a hint of teeth and lips and spit. Eddie can feel himself flush with the mere thought, and he wonders what he looks like right now, refusing to give Buck the damned water bottle in favor of standing over him like this, every thought more depraved than the last.  “Eddie,” Buck whispers, voice low like he knows where Eddie’s mind is. His eyes blaze with something akin to hunger, but softer, quieter — something so private that Eddie aches with it. Something that’s just theirs, something Eddie has equal right to. It’s the thing that gives him the courage to bend down until their mouths are barely two breaths apart, Buck meeting him halfway like he has so many times before.

[Read on AO3]

[zee-rambles]

Donnie: All right, brothers, let’s go. Chop chop.

Raph: Wha? How did you get them out of the lair so fast? I have to drag you guys out on missions.

Leo: I have my ways, big bro.

Mikey: He said if we can get out in five minutes, then he won’t make any puns for a week.

————————-

Fanart

[seths-rogens]

82 and steddie for the ANGST

i wrote this ENTIRELY ON THE CLOCK i feel both powerful and insane anyway here u go bestie, some lovely steddie angst <33

word count: 1.1k

——————

82. “This is a one time thing.”

He should’ve known.

Should’ve known when Eddie’s eyes fell hooded. Should’ve known when his back was pressed hard against the wall of his hallway. When Eddie’s tongue was down his throat. Should’ve known when Eddie pressed in slow and his head fell back against the pillow.

It should’ve been obvious. He should’ve known.

But now, lying bare, covered only by the thin top sheet, Steve frowns as he watches Eddie sit up and start searching for his clothes.

“What’re you doing?” He fiddles with the covers, pinching and twisting them between his fingers.

Eddie barely spares a glance over his shoulder.

“What does it look like?” He reaches down, shuffles as he pulls on his boxers. The low light casts shadows over the curve of his back, illuminates the Gauth tattoo he got a week last Friday. “This was a one time thing, Harrington. Did you expect me to stay and cuddle?”

Steve’s stomach drops like he’s falling from a height. He feels sick, anxiety rolling through his stomach.

Is this all he’s good for? A quick fuck and nothing more?

Does he not deserve more than just this?

Spiralling is never a nice feeling.

He laughs, cold and harsh, plastering on that old ‘King Steve’ persona and crossing his arms tight over his chest. Nothing can break through that tough exterior. “Course not. Why would I expect anything from you?”

Eddie has his shirt on now. He’s stood, searching the floor for where he tossed his jeans. He meets Steve’s eye at his stern tone.

“Woah, whats your deal man?”

“My deal? There’s no deal.” Steve shakes his head, a glare settled on his face.

“I mean, clearly there is. You were fine like five minutes ago and now, what? You’re acting all bitchy for some reason?”

“Fucking rich coming from you, Munson.”

Eddie’s eyes widen in shock. “The fuck?” He mutters under his breath. “What’s gotten into you? You haven’t called me Munson in months!”

Steve glowers, tosses the covers back and strides, naked as the day he was born, into the bathroom. “You can see yourself out.”

A clean break will be easier. He can lose it in private once Eddie’s gone.

He goes to shut the door but a palm slams down, holding it open. Steve flinches, eyes flicking up to meet Eddie’s.

“Wait a goddamn minute, man. What did I do?” Eddie looks desperate now, where before he seemed apathetic. Steve can’t help but be confused at the shift.

“Why do you care? I thought this was a one time thing?”

“It is! That’s what you wanted!”

Steve let’s out a short breath, ducks his head and punches the bridge of his nose. He can’t help the tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. “You didn’t even ask me.” He chokes out.

“What?”

“You didn’t ask me what I want.”

A crease appears between Eddie’s eyebrows, confusion swimming in his eyes. “You’re not a queer, Steve. You just wanted to get off, right? It’s okay. I’m not mad that that’s all you want.”

Steve laughs, letting go of the door and running a hand down his face. A couple tears spill over. “And you were just there, right?”

“Exactly. We’re friends. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Steve’s voice breaks. “You think I would use you like that? That’s how little you think of me?”

“What? Stevie, sunshine, no. I think the world of you.”

“Then why is it a one time thing! Why can’t I be more? Am I not good enough? Don’t I deserve it?”

“Sweetheart—“

“No.” He puts his foot down. “You don’t get to call me that if you’re just gonna fuck me and toss me to the side.”

Eddie flinches as if struck. “I—“

“I’m so tired, Eddie. I’m so tired of being this person everyone thinks is only good for sex. I don’t even care about sex that much!” Steve runs a hand through his hair, before grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his hips. He’s too exposed. “Like yeah, sure, it’s fun. But I want more than that! I like the hand holding and the dates and the inside jokes. I don’t want just sex. I want to be loved.”

Eddie’s expression softens, his eyes a little wet. “You are so loved, Steve Harrington. Robin and Dustin and the rest of the kids love you so much. Hell, they would die for you.”

Steve shakes his head, staring at the floor. Eddie’s holy socks next to his bare feet. “That’s not what I mean. That’s different.”

“You want to be in love.”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

“Well, I—“ Eddie starts. Steve looks up at him, a glimmer of hope lighting in his chest. “No. Never mind, I don’t even know what I was going to say.”

He takes a step back, steps into his jeans and pulls them up. He’s fiddling with the belt buckle when he says, “I should get going. I’m sorry I upset you.”

He makes for the door but doesn’t get far before Steve stops him. “Eds?”

Eddie stops but doesn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

“What were you going to say?”

Eddie shakes his head, croaks out an answer. “Nothing, Stevie. Promise.”

“No.” Steve squeezes his eyes shut as he whispers the plea. “Please say it.”

Eddie turns around.

His eyes are closed. His fists clenched so tightly his skin is pulled white. “You could never want me. So why ask for more when I could have you for one night?”

Steve makes a pained noise but says nothing, sensing Eddie isn’t finish. Eddie let’s out a shaky sigh.

“I thought I was protecting myself. Limiting it to one night, one time. I thought we could just move on. Just be friends who had sex that one time.” He laughs, soft and self deprecating. “But it’s never that easy with you, Stevie. I knew as soon as we finished that if I let myself stay, if I held you for even a moment, that I’d never recover.”

Steve steps towards him, hapless to resist.

“So I acted like it meant nothing. And I’m sorry I did, truly. If I knew you felt like that, I wouldn’t have.”

“How do I feel, Eddie?”

Eddie’s face scrunches up, pained or maybe nervous. “You… you love me? Right?”

Steve nods. Takes another step forward. “And?”

“And I love you.”

For the first time all night, Steve smiles. The full, gleaming one he doesn’t let slip often. It lightens his eyes, bares his teeth.

He steps closer still until they’re almost chest to chest.

Steve wraps his fingers around the handcuffs that make up Eddie’s belt buckle. He tugs and Eddie stumbles forward until they’re flush.

With his other hand, Steve loosens his towel. Lets it fall.

He cups Eddie’s jaw in his hands, leans in until there’s only a whisper of space between their lips.

“Well then, maybe this doesn’t have to be a one time thing.”

—————

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[meowriddler]

Cause he’s my best friend, he’s my pal. He’s my home-boy, my rotten soldier. He’s my sweet cheese, my good-time boyeh. My husband my love, my everything my sweet syrup pie.