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midnighthazee · 15 days ago

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Changbin's Confession

Genre: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Fluff, Flirting, Smut, Light Choking, Rough Sex, Hair pulling, Multiple Orgasms, Pet Names, marking, creampie, aftercare

WC: 4437

You have been friends with the boys for a couple months now, hanging out regularly as they just got back from tour and have some down time. Only knowing them for a few months, you all spend a lot of time getting to know each other. You have a good relationship with all of them, but probably closest with Han and Chan. You three are always joking and fooling around.

You join Changbin at the gym occasionally to hang out outside of the group. Felix and Hyunjin usually chill at the dorms with you and watch k-dramas or videos. Minho and you are always eating out, him usually covering for you. Seungmin and Innie are always down to hang out around town shopping and getting boba.

Currently, you are hanging out at JYP Entertainment with the boys watching their rehearsal. You loved to just come sit and watch, picking up a few steps here and there as they learn a new dance. Sometimes when they took a break, Hyunjin and Han would go over the steps with you, helping you with the parts you couldn’t get at first. The rest of the group just watched the show as you were taught, clapping when you nailed the section.

“Who needs the gym, when I have this choreo to keep me in shape.” You huffed, plopping down on the floor in front of them as they leaned against the wall mirror. Innie handed you a water which you chugged half of as Han and Hyunjin sat next to you.

“You don’t even need the gym, y/n. You look great.” Han commented, winking at you. You just rolled your eyes, used to all his flirting.

“Yeah. You need it though.” Minho jabbed at Han.

Han glared at him, kicking Minho's feet away from him.

“You can always come with me.” Changbin suggested to Han.

“Nah, I’m good. Your workouts scare me.” Han shook his head.

“How are they scary?” You asked. “I do them”

“And I don’t know how you haven’t injured yourself.”

“He spots me. Helps me do the moves right.” You shrug.

“I’ll help you with your moves anytime. Just ask.” Han commented, smiling smugly at you.

You blush while the boys groan at his cheesy lines. You look up at him and he winks at you. You just shake your head, looking away but smiling.

“Should we finish the practice?” Changbin suggested, standing.

“Yeah let’s do it.” Chan said, standing up.

The boys followed him.

“Keep your eyes on me, y/n” Han said, resting his hand on your shoulder for a second.

“Yeah of course. Just you.” You nodded, squinting your eyes and giving into him.

You saw Hyunjin just shake his head at you two as they got in formation. You turned around to rest against the mirror and watch. They had you start the song, so once everyone was ready, you counted down and started. They did the choreography all the way through, only stopping once to correct a section. You clapped for them, not surprised that they learned the whole song in mere hours.

“We’ll clean it up tomorrow but it’s fine for today.” Chan said.

“What do you think, y/n? Like it.” Han asked.

“Why are you so obsessed with her?” Minho asked jokingly.

“Ummm she’s funny, gorgeous, and our best friend. Why aren't you obsessed?” Han stated as if it was obvious.

You hid your face in your hands, not being able to deal with him.

“Ji, stop” you whined.

“Sorry baby. I’ll stop.” Han sat down next to you.

You roll your eyes, smiling at him with your tongue at the corner of your mouth.

“What do you think of the choreo? Honestly…” Han asked.

“Oh I loved it, babe. You guys are great.” You grabbed Han’s hand as you spoke knowing it would fluster him and get him to chill out with the flirting for a minute.

As expected, Han was speechless. His eyes were wide and he couldn’t say anything as he looked down at your hand. He didn’t pull his hand away even though he knew you were just messing with him. The boys ooooed at him, making him go red and finally let go. You giggled.

“Alright boys, let’s get out of here.” Seungmin suggested.

They all grabbed their stuff, chatting as they headed out the door. You noticed Changbin moving slower than normal.

“You okay?” You asked him.

He looked up, as if surprised you noticed.

“Yeah.” He said, pursing his lips together.

“You looked great. With the dance, I mean. So don’t stress about it.”

Changbin looked at you emotionlessly.

You were unsure as to why he was just watching you. Realizing, the rest of the boys already left, you decided to turn and catch up to them.

You only got two steps before he spoke.

“Why do you do it?” He asked.

“Do what?” You asked, turning around.

He wasn’t looking at you, but at the floor. One of his hands balled into a fist.

“Entertain him. Do you like him?”

“Who? Ji?”

“Yes.” He finally locked eyes with you. “Do you like him?”

“As a friend, yes.”

It was true. You did like him in just a friend way. But you can’t say you don’t enjoy the flirting. If he asked you out, you would probably give him a chance. But he hasn’t actually asked you out. All the flirting these past couple months, you lowkey wonder why he hasn’t but you never dwell on it. It was just the banter between you two.

You did however have a major crush on Changbin but played it cool and just built the friendship. You loved your gym hangouts so you could spend time with him in his element. Watch him focusing on the thing he loved. Plus the view of the squats and bench presses weren’t hard to look at either. You would be lying if you said him spotting you doesn’t give you fanny flutters as his hands rest on your body.

“Then why flirt back?” What is that face? Was he…hurt?

“I don’t know. It’s….fun?” You shrug.

“Well stop.”

“Bin, I-“

“I can’t stand seeing you two go at it when I wish it was me you were flirting with. Me whose hand you’re holding. Me who gets to….” He looked away, unable to finish the sentence as he clenched his jaw.

You were silent, processing his words. He…likes you? He likes you. He wants you to hold his hand. He wants you to flirt with him.

You took a hesitant step forward before the door burst open.

“There’s my girl. I was worried you got lost. C’mon.” Han said, grabbing your hand and dragging you out the practice room.

You looked back at Changbin who was biting his lip in anger, looking to the side. Before you could free your arm, you were through the door. You wanted to run back but you also didn’t even know what to say. The man you had been daydreaming about since becoming a Stay finally admitting his feelings. And here you had been, flirting with his band mate and best friend the whole time, even despite your feelings. Even though it was innocent banter, it may not have seemed like that to him.

You heard the door open again and Changbin joined you all, avoiding eye contact with you. His hat was pulled low over his eyes so you couldn’t make out his facial expression. You pulled your arm from Han as you all exited the building and climbed into their cars.

Changbin was driving his black Mercedes, Chan in the passenger seat and you and Han in the backseat. Han was rambling on about something as you were twiddling your fingers in your lap.

You looked up at Changbin through the rear view mirror, locking eyes. He was the first to look away, focusing back on the road. You looked out the window, Minho driving the others in his black Range Rover next to them.

“Y/n, will you come with me tomorrow?” Han tapped your arm.

“Huh? Where?”

“Told you she wasn’t listening.” Chan commented.

“Sorry. I’m listening.” You said.

“Will you come with me shopping? You can tell me what looks good on me.”

“Oh. Um sure.”

Han studied you for a moment, causing you to look out the window again.

Your phone buzzed in your hand and you looked down to see a message from Han.

Everything okay? You’ve been kinda quiet…

You nodded at him before responding.

Yeah. Just tired.

You looked back up to see Changbin watching you again. You gave him a half smile but he just looked back at the road. Han and Chan went back to talking but you drowned them out. Your brain was trying to find any times Changbin hinted at being into you. You couldn’t think of anything, confused at how you didn’t notice he liked you back.

Then your brain replays all the times you and Han flirted away right in front of him. He never seemed bothered before…. But maybe you were just having too much fun to notice. The guilt ate at you the rest of the drive and before long, you were back at their dorm. You all went inside, the boys kicking off their shoes by the door and taking their stuff to their rooms.

Han was the first to come out, seeing you sitting on the couch scrolling your phone.

“Hey. You wanna wash up first?”

“Nah. I’m just gonna go home and wash up at my place. But I’ll see you tomorrow for shopping.”

“Oh okay. You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Okay. Text me when you get home.”

“I will. Tell the boys I’ll see them tomorrow.”

You hugged Han goodbye and headed down to your car. You hopped inside and drove home, reaching in 15 mins. You texted Han as promised and headed into the shower.

After your shower, you put on some pajamas and looked at your phone. Only Han texted you, saying he was about to crash. You should text Changbin…

Back at the dorms, Changbin showered and got into some comfy clothes before coming into the living room. Hyunjin and Chan were on the couch talking, Han in the kitchen grabbing a water bottle.

He didn’t see you and wondered if you were showering in Han’s room like you usually did. He already washed up, hair still damp as he chugged the water.

“Where’s y/n?” Changbin asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“She went home. She was tired.” Han answered, walking towards his bedroom.

Changbin tried not to show his disappointment. He basically confessed his feelings for you and you didn’t get to finish the conversation.

He grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge and headed back to his room to text you.

He picked up his phone and started typing.

Hey. Was hoping we could finish our conver-

Changbin cleared the message, deciding to go in a different direction.

Hey. Hope you got home okay. Talk tomorrow?

He cleared the message. Not wanting to say that either.

He ran his fingers through his hair, thinking. You had texted each other countless times. Why was it so hard to text normally now.

Buzz.

Changbin quickly glanced at his phone. It was a text from you.

Can you come over? We should talk.

Changbin looked up from his screen, thinking it over. This talk could go one of two ways and he was nervous it wouldn’t go the way he wanted. Better to get it over with. He began to type his reply.

Sure. On my way.

Changbin grabbed his keys, wallet and a jacket, heading out. Seungmin was in the kitchen, his back to Changbin, so he quickly snuck past to the front door. He didn't really have to sneak, but he didn’t want to be interrogated about where he was going and have to lie. Or have to tell the truth and they get ideas in their heads.

He was at your apartment in 15 mins, standing at the door trying to find the courage to knock. Who knows how this will turn out. Things will be changed one way or another after he steps foot inside.

With a heavy sigh, he knocked on the door.

You were sitting on the couch scrolling mindlessly through instagram waiting for Changbin to show. You were nervous about where this conversation was going to go. You didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t wished for this to happen. Now would be your chance to confess your feelings.

Knock knock.

You jumped at the sound. He was here.

You put your phone on the coffee table and walked over to the door, letting out a quick breath before opening it.

“Hey.” Your voice just above a whisper.

“Hey.”

You stepped to the side to let him come in. He walked by you and shrugged his jacket off. He was just wearing grey joggers and a black t-shirt that hugged his muscles perfectly.

You made your way over to the couch, him joining you. He was maybe an arms width away as you decided how to start the conversation.

“I’m sorry I blew up at you at practice.” Changbin said, not looking at you.

“It’s fine.” You watched him look around your apartment. “I was hoping we could finish the conversation.”

Changbin looks up at you then.

“If it bothered you so much…. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighed.

“If I told you, then I would have had to admit…admit my feelings.” Changbin looked down, afraid to meet your eyes.

“Feelings huh? Interesting. What kind of feelings?” You spoke playfully.

He looked up at you, smirking when he saw you smiling at him. He shook his head, rolling his eyes. Meaning you succeeded in lightening the mood.

“You know, the crush kind.” He said, acting nonchalant as he squinted one eye and straightened his posture before smiling at you.

“That’s interesting. I have those feelings too.”

He looked surprised then. “You do?”

“Yep. This really attractive guy I see at the gym often.”

“Interesting.” He nodded before you both started laughing.

“I should have asked you out sooner.” Changbin said after you both stopped the giggle fit. “I would have if I’d known you would have said yes.”

“Well you should have asked anyway.”

Changbin looked at you then and you noticed his eyes drop to your lips. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, before meeting your eyes again.

You don’t know what came over you, but you moved to close the gap between you two. You swung your leg over to straddle him, relaxing on his thighs as a look of shock took over his face.

His hands instinctively went to your waist.

“Last chance to back out.” You whispered.

Changbin crashed his lips onto yours as his grip on your hips got harder. His tongue swiped across your lips and you parted, allowing his tongue to tangle with yours. You rocked your hips as you deepened the kiss, Changbin letting out a groan.

You paused to catch your breaths, smiling at the growing bulge in his pants.

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do that.” Changbin panted.

“I’m sure I’ve wanted it longer.”

“Your time as a Stay doesn’t count.”

“That’s not fair.” You pouted. “Plus I’m still a Stay.”

“You’re cute when you pout.”

“And you’re hot when you’re jealous.”

Changbin’s cheeks flushed red. He pushed you down onto the couch, hovering over you.

“I just want you to be mine.” Changbin breathed, kissing your neck.

You let out a moan at the contact.

“Make that sound again, and I’m not going to be able to control myself.” He whispered.

You smiled, wrapping your legs around his waist. He smirked, kissing you again as he flushed his hips against yours. You moaned again and he groaned, kissing down your neck. He slipped his hands under your shirt and pulled it off. You sat up and he took the chance to unclip your bra.

You laid back down and Changbin was quick to attach his lips to your nipple. He sucked hard, teasing with his tongue.

“Changbin” you whispered, melting into his touch. It was so forceful but soft.

“I love when you moan my name.” He said, switching his attention to your other nipple.

Your hands trailed down his sides to the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. He pulled it over his head and you admired his toned chest, arms, and abs as he panted.

“I’m not fucking you on a couch. C’mon.” He said, scooping you up and carrying you into your room.

He laid you down on the bed and pulled off your shorts and underwear in one go. He kissed the bottom of your foot and you flinched, giggling.

“Ticklish?” He asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Before you could answer, he tickled the bottom of your foot.

“Binnie, stop” you whined through giggles.

You tried to pull your foot away but he was stronger.

“Binnie.”

“Yes, angel?” He asked, kissing your ankle and up your leg.

You could feel his warm breath at your core, before his tongue swiped your folds.

“So wet for me.” He spoke.

“Mmm” was all you could say as he brought his tongue to your clit and circled around it.

His hands ran down your inner thighs and pushed them open. He licked through before pushing his tongue inside you. You were a moaning mess as he switched between kitten licks and plunging his tongue into your clenching hole. You wanted to feel him all the way inside you.

One hand left your thigh and grazed your folds before pushing two fingers inside. Your stomach began tightening as he pumped his fingers. His tongue still danced around your clit and you felt yourself about to come undone. You were clenched around his fingers waiting for release.

“That’s it, princess. Cum for me.” Changbin whispered.

He curled his fingers and hit the sweet spot just right. You back arched off the bed as you gripped the sheets. Your high washed over you as a loud moan escaped your lips.

He helped you through your high before pulling his fingers out and sucking your juices off.

“Fuck, you taste amazing.” He said, crawling up over you and connecting your lips.

You wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him closer.

“So needy.” He groaned, smirking as he ran his fingers down the side of your face.

They dragged down your neck, stopping at your collarbone before he wrapped them lightly around your neck. Your lips parted in response and he took the chance to lick your bottom lip then mingle your tongues together. This kiss was slow and hot, neither one of you wanting to pull away.

The need for oxygen took over and you separated, foreheads still touching.

“Binnie.” You whispered. “I need you.”

“Yeah? Show me how much.”

You pushed him up and off you, kneeling in front of him. You looked up at him and he almost broke seeing you like this. Instead, he just nodded at you and you pulled down his pants and underwear at once.

His hard, thick dick popped out and you felt a pang of nervousness about him filling you up. He was definitely the biggest you’ve seen.

Swiping your thumb over the bead of precum on his tip, you began stroking him. He groaned, feeling your hands on him, working their magic. You did this a few times before taking him into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his tip as your hand strokes what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

He hissed and groaned as you bobbed your head, pausing here and there to run your tongue or thumb over his slit. After a few moments, he gripped your hair in his hand, forcing you to take all of him in your mouth.

You felt him hit the back of your throat a couple times, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you fought the urge to gag. He finally pulled out and you stroked him as you caught your breath.

“Fuck, I almost came.” He says, lifting you up and pushing you back on the bed.

He pressed his lips to yours as his legs pushed yours open. You felt him rub his dick through your folds and a moan left your lips. He groaned in satisfaction at how he made you so vocal.

“Ready?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Words, angel. Use your words.” He kissed your neck and nibbled your ear.

“Yes.” You breathed. “I’m ready.”

“I’ll go slow.” He leaned up.

Lining himself up, he began to slowly sink inside of you. You gasped as he slowly stretched you out.

“Fuck.” You hissed.

“Good girl. You’re taking me so well.” He cooed, hands rubbing your inner thighs.

He finally bottomed out, leaning over you once more. He didn’t move as he let you adjust. He kissed your cheeks, your neck, and your lips before looking into your eyes. He slowly pulled out up to his tip before pushing back into you.

“You’re so tight, baby. Fuck.” He whispered in your ear as he pulled out again.

You swallowed, adjusting to his size. He was undoubtedly the biggest you had. He pushed back in and you moaned.

“Okay.” You said, letting him know he can pick up the pace.

He begins thrusting at a faster tempo and you feel yourself already building. The knot in your stomach getting tighter as he kept the pace. This went on for several minutes before you clenched around him, making him groan.

“I’m cl-close.” You breathed.

“Let go baby.” He encouraged.

At his words, you reached your high and a loud moan left your lips. Loud enough the neighbors probably heard but you didn’t care. He helped you ride your high as your nails dragged down his back and you screamed his name.

Once you came down, he pulled out and you whimpered at the loss.

“Flip over, baby.”

You got up on your hands and knees in the middle of the bed and he came behind you. One hand on your hip and the other guiding him as he pushed into you all the way.

You moaned, him impossibly deeper this way as he pounded into you. You cried out as felt so good gliding against your soft walls. You took every inch he mercilessly gave.

He collected your hair in one hand, using it to pull you up so your back was pressed against his chest, his speed never slowing. His free hand groped your boob, tweaking your nipple.

Groaning in your ear, he tweaked the other and you felt like you were seeing stars. Your high was fast approaching with him entering you at this angle.

“Be a good girl and cum for me again.” He kissed your neck and you felt your orgasm wash over you.

Your hands gripped his arm as he held you against him. As you came down for the third time that evening, you were on cloud nine. He kissed your neck before releasing your boobs and pulling out. He laid down next to you, pulling you over him so you were straddling him.

You lined him up and sank down on him, moaning as he smacked your ass and leaned up to connect your lips. You rolled your hips, grinding down on him as you were lost in each other’s mouths. He groaned as you made circles with your hips and you tilted your head back at the sound.

He sucked on your neck, leaving a mark, before laying back down and grabbing your hips. He put his heels into the mattress and began thrusting up into you. Your hands immediately rested on his chest, steadying yourself as he picked up the pace. It was fast and you cried out in pleasure.

“Binnie I-… Ah” you tried to speak but you couldn’t form a sentence as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Open your eyes, angel. Look at me.” He said and you did.

His eyes were dark and filled with lust as he drilled into you.

“Cum with me, baby.” He said, biting his lip.

You didn’t think you had another one in you, but there was the familiar knot in your stomach again, building even as he slowed into long, deep strokes. You knew you were going to feel this in the morning.

You clenched, feeling yourself at the edge of your orgasm.

“Fuck.” He hissed and you felt his hot liquid squirting inside you.

The feeling of him and his groans were enough to push you over the edge. You gripped his arms, clenching around him as you came, hard. Your toes curled as another moan left your lips.

“Fuck” you breathed, coming down.

“Good job, baby.” He panted. “That’s my girl.”

You relaxed, laying on his chest as he rubbed your back. You both were breathing heavily as you came down from your highs. Moments of silence passed as you enjoyed the moment together.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” You broke the silence.

He laughed.

“I don’t know. I should have snapped at you sooner.” He responded.

You sat up, looking down at him.

“What?” He asked.

“What are we going to tell everyone?”

“Good question.” He sat up. “How about…. you’re my girlfriend?”

“Am I now?”

“Only if you want to be.”

“I’ll think about it.” You shrugged like it was no big deal.

He scoffed at you and you kissed him lightly on the lips before moving off of him, laying down on the bed. He got up, disappearing into your bathroom before returning with a washcloth to clean you up. You flinched, still sensitive and he gave a light kiss to your stomach before going back to your bathroom.

When he returned, you were under the covers smiling at him. He climbed in behind you and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Won’t the boys wonder where you are?”

“Let them. I’m staying here tonight.” He kissed your cheek.

You turned around and kissed him. He smiled at you and you turned back, snuggling into him. Exhaustion taking over your body after the night you just had.

“Oh, one more thing.” He said.

“What?”

“No more flirting with Jisung.”

“Ugh, fine. Ruin all my fun.” You heard him chuckle before kissing your shoulder. Smiling, you settled into bed and let sleep take you over.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids smut #seo changbin x reader #changbin smut #changbin x reader #seo changbin #bang chan #lee felix #lee minho #han jisung #yang jeongin #kim seungmin #hwang hyunjin

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try-set-me-on-fire · 5 months ago

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Tagged by @eddiebabygirldiaz for seven sentence Sunday! Here’s uhhhhh more than that from a buddietommy vacation threesome fic-

The day is hot enough that Buck is curled up like a bug on the dock between them. He’d stayed in the water longer than Tommy or Eddie had, and had swum out further than either of them, so when he’d crawled back up onto the old wood planks he’d chugged an entire water bottle and promptly passed out. Eddie glances down at his bare torso, just starting to get a little pink.

“Should probably get sunscreen on him again.”

Tommy snorts as he leans backwards, stretching out to grab the spray can. “And you’re worried you’ve forgotten how to be a dad.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie says as Buck, still asleep, makes a similar sound when Tommy mists him all over with cold sunscreen. “It’s been months, man, that’s so long for a kid, who knows what he’s even into now-”

“Minecraft, right?” Tommy says as he smooths his hand over a few places the sunscreen pooled on his boyfriend’s back. “Wasn’t he on a video call with you and Buck about it for like three hours on Friday? Something about- uh- command blocks?”

Eddie is mildly impressed Tommy remembers the word — maybe — because he certainly doesn’t. Buck had only been slightly better at following along than he had as they’d squinted at the probably impressive pixels on the laptop screen. “I don’t know, I just feel like…” Every morning, still, he wakes up and thinks he needs to get Chris’ breakfast started. Whole parts of his being are wired around taking care of his kid, but since he’s been gone Eddie has been trying — in fits and starts and most of the time guiltily — to figure out what the rest of him is for. It’s part of what got him into the whole mess in the first place, chasing after the dreams of a 19 year old who got those dreams from his parents. A nice wife (but they never liked her, did they) and a good job (but firefighting is too dangerous, isn’t it) and a picket fence (one closer to home, Eddie, you’ve gone too far away.) So he owed it to Chris, owed it to himself, to figure out what the fuck he actually wants, so he doesn’t keep twisting himself into knots and taking out everyone around him when the line breaks. He’s not sure he’s any closer to whatever that is — other than it’s unlikely to include a wife of any kind — but in the time he’s taken trying, what if other things got lost in the upheaval? “I keep thinking I’ll just- not remember to do something. Forget how field trip permissions slips work, or not know what shoe size he wears, or- I don’t know. Anything. I won’t pack his lunch and it won’t be the end of the world but he’ll be hungry that day.”

Tommy leans back on his palms and looks across at him, quiet and thoughtful for a few moments in that way he has, like he’s thinking through every possible response before he speaks. He is, maybe; he’d confessed to Eddie that he’d spoken too quickly when he was younger, is embarrassed about a lot of the dumb shit he’d said, so he tries to take his time with his words now. “Eddie. You took us up here this weekend to check and make sure this place is accessible to take your kid to this summer. And- I get that’s a big thing, a big gesture, and maybe you’re worried about messing up the small stuff, but… You’ve still got his favorite kind of jelly in the fridge that nobody else eats. You love him, and he knows that. You’re gonna do fine.” He shrugs. “And he’s almost fourteen, if you forget to hand him lunch he’s gonna let you know.”

Eddie huffs a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess he will.” He groans a little, shaking his head. “Fourteen years old, that’s fucking crazy. I don’t feel old enough for that to be true.”

Tommy rolls his neck so it audibly cracks. “Yeah, yeah, you whippersnapper.”

Eddie grins at him. “You feeling the exercise, old man? Need to go lay down?” He cackles and leans away as Tommy grabs the can and sprays a burst of sunscreen at him.

Between them Buck grunts at the commotion, and rolls towards Eddie. He presses his face into the meat of his bare side above his trunks, and wraps his long arms around his torso. Eddie glances up at Tommy, who just looks fondly amused. “Uh. Wrong guy, there, bud.”

Buck stills, and then pulls back a little to squint up at him. Eddie’s not particularly ticklish, but something like goosebump are shivering across the skin of his stomach where Buck’s forearm rests against him. He has to actively try not to shudder as Buck pulls back and rolls the other way, Eddie watching hypnotized as he gives Tommy the same treatment. Buck presses a little kiss onto Tommy’s hip, in the spot he had just been cuddled into on Eddie, and Eddie’s mouth goes dry.

Tommy lets out a little breath, and Eddie doesn’t think he’ll be able to use the sun as an excuse for how pink he’s gotten as his eyes snap up to the other man’s face. Except- he’d been expecting a raised eyebrow, a flat mouth, some visual indicator of disapproval, that this is one step Buckandeddie too far, that all the rest of their codependent lives have been fine, a platonic kind of care built over years of being there for each other through the worst of the worst, but now the uncomfortable answer to what Eddie wants, the uncomfortable answer he’s been trying to avoid because it's something he cannot have, has been found out and the messy insides of him will have once again ruined something good. But what he finds is a tiny little smile and heavy eyes that-

Well, they don’t look disapproving in the slightest.

“You guys hungry?” Buck mutters, words muffled by Tommy’s skin. “We should go start the grill.”

Tommy’s little smile gets wide and lazy, eyes still stuck on Eddie. “I could eat,” he says.

Tagging @iinryer @shitouttabuck @butchdiaz @chronicowboy @homerforsure @rewritetheending @bigfootsmom if you have anything you want to share!

#not sure about the pacing on this but i mean it to be a short fic so its not like there will really be time to spread it out any more #tag games #seven sentence sunday #buddietommy

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macabr3-barbi3 · 8 months ago

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Nothing I Can't Handle- Chapter 2 [Alastor/Reader]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54337009/chapters/139143145

Chapter 1!

Tags: Reader-Insert, Alastor in Rut, Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor, Rough Sex, Possessive Sex, blood kink? maybe if you squint, Biting

Round 2! Who doesn't love a nice chase through the bayou?

Comments and feedback fuel my lifeforce- let me know what you think! 💕

Chapter 1 🦌 Chapter 3

When Alastor’s rut comes around the second time, you’re ready.

The first one had been… an experience. Not a bad one by any means- while sore you were thoroughly sated, Alastor having been very particular about making sure that you came just as many times as he did, if not more. By the end of the three day period you had been holed up in his room you were covered in a thin layer of sweat and various bodily fluids, the last day having been the most exhaustive. Your throat was sore from the constant noises coming from you; a headache from the dehydration of not getting enough water between rounds, though Alastor had done his best to remember to conjure a glass here and there; a variety of cuts and bruises littering your skin, a collage of delicious depravity. When Alastor had finally allowed you to leave your room, the rut having passed, you pressed on the bruises occasionally to give yourself a reminder of the time you had shared.

He acted like nothing had changed- he wasn’t actively avoiding you like he had been in the days leading up to the rut, but he just… treated you like everyone else. Which was fine. Good, even! There was no reason for anyone to suspect anything between the two of you when he did the same things to do that he did to Charlie or Vaggie. Popping up when you least expected him to, leaning into your personal space, resting an elbow on your shoulder or head when he had the angle to do so.

You weren’t foolish enough to expect that he would want to date you or anything like that- it was just a transaction to him, a way to get what he needed by giving you something that you wanted, even if you hadn’t figured out what that was yet. A physical need that had to be fulfilled or he would go back to that snarling tower of a demon that stalked the hotel and made everyone cower.

Still, when he approached you one day months after the first one to inform you that the rut would be coming again soon, you prepared yourself.

You chug water whenever you can, and make sure to eat regular meals in the days leading up to it, squirreling away whatever little snacks you could stash in your room without luring out the bugs that Nifty liked to chase- Alastor’s powers seemed to draw the line at conjuring food, so when he could tear himself from your side he would journey to the kitchen and bring you small samplings of leftovers.

You spend your evenings trying to convince Alastor to have more meat when he joins the group at dinner, to make sure he could keep his strength up as well. He raises an eyebrow at you but does as requested.

When the night comes around, Alastor finds you in the lobby and asks you in a hushed tone to meet him at his room when you retire for the evening, and your heart rate spikes in your chest when you agree. When he vanishes you sprint to your room, collecting the assortment of nuts and snack cakes and pretzels and candy that you had amassed into a bag before you make your way to his room. At this you were nervous- you’d never been inside before, the last time having been sequestered into your own bedroom. You hoped he wouldn’t mind your bringing something to eat along.

When the door swung open Alastor raised an eyebrow at the bag on your shoulder. “I hope that’s not a change of clothes,” he says as he guides you into the room with a sweep of his arm. “Because you won’t be needing them.” His tone is not salacious or flirty- a statement of fact rather than a come-on.

You place it on the table by the door as you start pulling items from it. “It’s not. I noticed, last time, that you don’t seem to be able to conjure food- I thought this might make things a little easier on both of us. If I have something to snack on I won’t drop dead of hunger and you don’t have to leave so often.”

His eye twitches as he watches you, and you second guess yourself. “I can- I can get rid of them if you want, take them back to my room-“

“Not necessary,” he says, and waves a hand; the assortment of snacks reappears on the stand next to the bed across the room. “I apologize for the pause. The part of my brain currently being overtaken by the rut did not appreciate the idea that there was something I could not successfully obtain for my… partner.”

“Oh,” you say, and realize with a blush that that sounds stupid. “Well, either way, we should be set for this time! I’ve been making sure to drink lots of water so I won’t get dehydrated, there’s some bottles in the bag as well…” You run through the various things that you had been doing to prepare for this week, and over the course of your tirade Alastor’s smile seems more and more strained. You finally stop your mouth from moving and just watch him as he watches you. “I… guess I maybe did too much, huh?”

“Not at all, dear,” he says like he’s on autopilot, and he lifts your hand to his lips to place a kiss to the back of it. “I am just… shocked, I suppose, that you’ve done so much to prepare and make this easier for the both of us when you’ve still not decided what you want for your end of the bargain.”

“Right,” you say, face flaming as you make your way past him and to the bed. You perch yourself on the edge of it. “I’ve been thinking about it, I promise!”

You totally haven’t been thinking about it. You were perfectly content to just continue helping Alastor with his ruts- to be so close to him regularly was enough for the time being. The orgasms were a huuuge plus.

He watches you with his eyes narrowed before he sighs. “If you say so, dear- do let me know when you’ve decided. In the meantime, I do have some final tasks to complete before I’m prepared to be incapacitated with you. I hadn’t expected you to meet me so soon.” He eyes you sitting on the edge of his bed and hums. “Though I must say I’m rather pleased to have you in my own territory this time, as it were. You’re free to use my space as you please while you wait for my return.” With a faint buzz of static he’s gone, and you’re left in the comfortable warmth of Alastor’s room.

You lean back into the pillows, relishing in the soft sheets beneath your skin. They were red- of course- and you let yourself spread your hands across them. They smelled of Alastor, like the woods and spices and rain on the streets when you were alive.

Speaking of Alastor’s scent, he said he was glad to have you in his area this time, and you think about when he made the initial proposition and said that he could smell other things on you- maybe it was the deer part of him wanting to make sure that you smelled like him this time, made him feel like you were properly… ‘mated.’ The thought makes you blush, but you don’t think you’re wrong.

You catch sight of the bathroom door across the room. He had said you had free reign while he was out- while you waited you could take a shower, rid yourself of the scents of the hotel, and perhaps that would put Alastor more at ease when he came back. You make your way into the generously sized room, turn the water as hot as you can get it, and wash the day off yourself.

When you come back into the main room Alastor is waiting there, and his eyes widen at the sight of you in what you assumed to be his bathrobe that you had found on the back of the door. “You’ve certainly made yourself at home, darling,” he comments, but his eyes are roving over your form from head to toe, pausing at the black A emblazoned now over your heart.

“I, uh. I thought maybe you would prefer it if I didn’t stink of the hotel when you got back,” you say. “You mentioned that last time, and with the comment about being in your territory this time I just figured, you know. A clean slate was best.” You shrug your shoulders, the silk of the robe sliding off on one side from how oversized it was on you. “Fuck-”

“Allow me.” Alastor is in front of you then, and despite the split-second thought that he would simply slide the robe off your entirely- he had said that you wouldn’t be needing clothing- he simply rights it on your frame, taking a moment to admire the A. He leans down and buries his nose in the space between your chin and shoulder, inhaling deeply. “The robe, while perhaps unintended, is a nice touch. Not only do you not smell of the hotel or its inhabitants, but you smell like me. Like mine.” He runs a hand down your arm and allows a clawed finger to drag the silk up your wrist.

“Yours,” you agree, and at his sharp intake of breath against your neck you add, “for the week! Whatever you need me to be, I will. Um. Be that. For the week.”

“Perfect,” he says, and your brain oozes with the warmth of the praise. “I actually do have a request of you this time beyond just allowing me to… have you.”

“Sure, what is it?”

You’re once again struck by your possible stupidity when it comes to this demon- blindly agreeing to the things he proposes before you really understand what comes with it. He could ask to tie you down, or if he could use his magic in some way to be involved in the proceedings. He could ask to bite you, to really chomp down like he had last time but tear flesh away instead of simply releasing you- though you do think you might draw the line there.

He eyes you through lowered lids for a moment before he steps to the side of you and gestures to the swamp that he’s got materialized in his room- it had been there since he moved in, if you went by what Vaggie said. “If you are not opposed, I would like you to run,” he says simply, reaching out to tighten the sash of the robe around your waist.

You glance into the darkness of the night that awaits at the border between there and here- where Hotel meets bayou, where reality meets… whatever that was. It had to be some kind of deer thing. “Got it. Is there a point to that? I’ll do it,” you assure him, hands raised to show that you weren’t trying to argue the point. “I’m just curious.”

He hums a bit. “Yes, I’d think so. As satisfying as it is that you so easily submit to me, the restless buck in me wishes for more of a courting, so to speak. In nature a doe will dance around the buck, out of reach for several days before allowing herself to be mated.” He flashes you a tense smile. “I think a refreshing chase through the bayou will satisfy that craving quite nicely.”

“I see.” You look back into the swamp- it’s dark, but the stars are providing a decent amount of light and there seems to be a clear path through the trees to some extent, plenty of space for you to make some distance if he gave you a head start. Were you supposed to circle back here, to the bedroom? You could tell he was a little nervous about the request, but it didn’t seem all that bad. “So that’s it- I run and you chase me?”

“Haha! What little faith you have in me, dear- you run, and I will catch you.”

His tone makes you shiver. “R-right.” You swallow hard and hold your hands into tight fists at your side. “And- what happens when you catch me?”

Alastor pats you on the head like you’ve seen him to do Charlie. “You’re a smart gal,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m sure you can figure it out during your head start- we may as well start now since you’re agreeable to the idea.” He glances at his watch before starting to remove his overcoat and roll his sleeves up to the elbow. “It’s not a terribly large area, so I believe ten seconds should be sufficient!”

“W- now? Ten seconds?”

His smile is almost bored despite the burning intent in his eyes. “Well, it’s only nine now.”

You know better than to stall any longer, and you bolt- perhaps some small blessing of magic he’s concocted, but there are no sharp sticks or rocks under your bare feet as you take off into the night, straight down the path you had noticed in the trees earlier. You stay mindful of any roots that may trip you as you run, your legs aching, heart beating faster than it ever has before, living or dead.

And yet- the thrill is exhilarating. You don’t think Alastor would actually harm you in any real way, bruises and scrapes from the last rut aside that you’re sure you’ll get a repeat of. But you could see why part of him wanted this. Craved it. A reward is better when you’ve earned it, when you’ve really worked for it.

And by the sounds of crashing trees and snapping branches that followed in your wake a few seconds later, he was certainly working for it.

You reach a clearing in the trees and turn to make a sharp right, sure that he was thinking you would continue straight on. As you do though you catch sight of the sky between the treetops- thousands of blinking stars with wisps of clouds shot throughout the deep, endless blue. It’s almost enough to make you stop and stare, take a moment to really appreciate what Alastor was capable of with this creation alone. It was breathtaking.

A whisper of movement reminds you that you aren’t alone in this astonishing dimension, and you sidestep just in time to avoid the grasp of Alastor’s claws as he reaches for you.

He looks feral - antlers extended and catching on the low hanging branches of the trees nearby, his eyes dark and crazed as he watches you take a couple steps back. “Come now, darling,” he says, and there’s red dripping from either side of his mouth. “There’s no use in that. I’ve found you.”

“Thought you said you wanted to catch me,” you snark before you can implement your brain-to-mouth filter. The adrenaline is coursing in your veins, keeping you light on your feet. “Not play hide and seek.”

Alastor laughs at you, the sound echoing through the wilderness. “How cheeky!” He stalks towards you, a pace forward for every one of yours backwards. “Rest assured, I will catch you, dear.”

You offer him your own smile, dancing backwards with every lurch. You know he could catch you easily, knew that he was just taunting you, toying with you. But God, if it wasn’t fun, even as dangerous as it was to mess with someone as powerful as Alastor. “That’s big talk for someone who still doesn’t have his hands on me yet.” You turn, to book it back into the trees in the opposite direction, knowing that you won’t get far.

You stumble. The cliche of it isn’t lost on you as you go down to your knees, and notice one of Alastor’s shadow tentacles slipping away from roughly ankle level.

You still try to escape, to draw it out just that little bit longer, twisting to one side as Alastor rushes you. All that does is get you facing upwards, the robe falling off your shoulders to drape across your collarbones before he has you pinned with a hand to each wrist.

“Well well, what do we have here?” He asks with his eyes lowered, pupils dilated as he takes you in. “It would seem that I’ve caught you.”

“You cheated,” you say breathlessly, as he slots himself between your legs, bringing your thighs up to rest on either side of his hips. “I could have kept going if you played fair.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he agrees, and then he’s trailing his lips down your neck, kissing at your shoulders and throat before he pulls the robe off of you to pool beneath your body. “You gave quite the effort- I was surprised to see you get so far with your head start. I have no doubt you could have kept the chase going a while longer.” He sighs, like the idea of not having that now was disappointing. “Another time, perhaps.” With that he releases your hands and digs his claws into your hips and grinds against you, the drag of his clothed erection against your bare sex sending sparks up your spine.

His eyes are closed, head thrown back as he groans in pleasure. His antlers, like last time, are extended to the sides, unrestrained with the openness of the space. He doesn’t seem to be as lost in it this time, perhaps because you were with him at the beginning of the rut and keeping the worst of it at bay before he had the chance to get animalistic and frustrated.

It's almost better, in a way. The last time had been fun- so much fun, you had zero complaints that you hadn’t already addressed with the supply of snacks and water sitting by the bed currently- but Alastor seems calmer in his need this time. Still at the mercy of his biology but less frantic with it, even with the chase that had led to the two of you here on the forest floor, sky full of stars above you. You would agree to nearly anything he asked of you to make things easier on him if needed.

He leans down over you, still grinding his hips while running his teeth along whatever he can reach of your body. He’s perfectly positioned for you to grab hold of his antlers again so you do so, relishing in the full body shiver that courses through him at the sensation. Using one hand to keep your lower halves pinned together, the other slides deliciously along your back to twist into your hair, pulling your mouth to his with a groan that vibrates through your being.

It would almost be unfair how aroused you were if you didn’t know that Alastor was in the same state, the drag of his length against you combined with the adrenaline of the chase leaving you slick and needy. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’s mumbling against your lips, tongue darting out with every repetition to brush along yours.

You let one of your hands slide down between your bodies like it had last time, let your trembling fingers circle the base of him and moan into his mouth at the feeling of him, hard and hot under your touch. He jerks back from you, his eyes frantic and panting through his slack jaw. “Darling, please, I can’t- can’t think if you-”

“Please,” you whine, and he flexes in your hand. “Please, Alastor, fuck-” You release your grip and roll your hips into his. “Don’t think- whatever you need, take it.”

He clenches his eyes shut, bringing his knees forward so he can rest your lower body on his thighs so he can free up the hand holding you to him. He pulls his hips back far enough to slide a finger through your wetness and into the tight clench of your body, the evidence of your arousal and how ready you are for him tearing a harsh moan from his throat. “You astonish me,” he says, and the praise winds itself around the synapses firing off in your brain as he brings his fingers to his mouth, long tongue twisting around the digits to taste you. “Delicious- you’re so lovely, I want everything .” The visual of it- this powerful demon, on his knees in the dirt with you, licking your arousal off his fingers like some delectable treat as he fights to maintain his composure, his manners- sends a pulse of want through your entire being, and not having him inside of you is no longer an option.

When he lines himself up to thrust into you you beat him to the punch, pushing your hips forward to meet him halfway, and then all the way as the move allows him to slide in to the hilt. A choked off whimper escapes you, body shivering with the force of his rutting into you. He’s hitting that sweet spot inside of you, the head of his cock slamming it with every thrust, and you want to cry from the pleasure of it.

“Perfect,” he whispers, his lips still close enough to your ear that you can hear the sweet nothings that tumble from his tongue. “My mate, so sweet, so- fuck -” He falters for a moment, his hips stuttering hard into you before he comes back to himself and resumes his steady rhythm, the push and pull of his body into yours driving you to insanity. When his eyes open they are black, the little red dials of his pupils ticking steadily in time with his thrusts. His antlers are growing still, their size staggering, the dark jagged lines of them breaking up your view of the stars when you can manage to tear your eyes away from Alastor’s face. “ Mine . Say it. Tell me.” His smile is desperate, expression dazed and full of need. “You take me so well; fucking say it, I need to hear you-”

“Yours,” you cry out, your thighs tensing with the force of your rising orgasm. “Fuck, Alastor, please, yours-”

Arms wrapped possessively around you he leans back, pulling you with him to an upright position. He's still sat on his knees in the dirt, the sounds coming from where you’re joined loud and lewd in the relative silence of the bayou. He keeps you clutched to his frame, claws digging delicious lines into the canvas of your back. “Fuck,” he’s gasping into the space between you, railing harder into your body as he loses his pace, hands coming down to hold your hips stationary and fuck into you from below. “Fuck, darling, mine - ” A wrecked groan of your name is the only warning you have before he stills as far inside your warmth as he can get himself, the move dragging him against that spot inside that sends you right over the edge with him.

He doesn’t bite down as hard this time but he still sinks his teeth into your shoulder, the sharp pain of it giving an edge to your release as you shake in Alastor’s arms, a sound like a wounded animal coming from you and seeming almost at home in the darkness of the trees.

Like last time, when he removes his teeth from your skin he laps at the blood that spills from the wound. You release your grip on his antlers at last and your arms drape over his shoulders, letting your head drop forward to rest on them. He sighs contentedly into your skin, the air making your new bitemark sting. The buzzing and rustling of creatures in the trees has resumed now that you and Alastor have finished, and stands slowly to place you on your feet, pulling out of the heat of your body in the same move. Your legs are shaky but stay underneath you at least, and he watches you with narrowed eyes after tucking himself back into his slacks.

Something about his gaze on you makes you nervous, now that his mind is temporarily clear of the frantic need from his rut. You crouch down to grab the discarded silk robe, now smeared with dirt and littered with leaves and sticks from the ground. “This m-might be ruined now,” you say quietly, still a little off kilter from the force of your orgasm. You hold it out to him, and while his jaw tightens a bit he still gives you a smile.

“Not an issue, my dear,” he assures you as he plucks it from your fingers. With a wave of his hand it’s as good as new, and he gestures to you to turn so he can place it back on your shoulders, helping to ease it over your arms and tightening the sash around your waist like he had before the chase. “I rather think it suits you- for the duration of my rut, at the very least.”

You blush. “I’ll make sure to throw it on every time,” you say with a chuckle, testing the strength of your legs with a couple steps. “I think I can manage to walk this time, but I might need a little-”

“Of course.” He holds his arm out for you to grasp, the picture of a gentlemen despite the chase and rough fucking he had just given you. “I would transport us back but I’m afraid I’ve expended much of my energy in chasing you out here.” He watches you from the corner of his eyes, and part of you thinks that he just finds it satisfying to see your knees weak because of him.

You glance back at the clearing as you walk away, and you can see the glow of the stars and moon where it cuts through the trees. “That was a really pretty spot,” you tell him, and his eyebrows raise. “Seriously- that whole area is just gorgeous. Is it a deer thing? Or something from, you know. Up there?” You point skyward, hoping he’ll understand that you mean from when he was alive without having to explicitly state it.

His smile turns wistful. “A bit of both, I suppose,” he admits. “I’ve always found myself a bit more at peace among nature than anywhere else. The cacophony of living creatures, the cover of darkness for more illicit activities. It’s always brought me comfort.”

“Gives you some space for the more cervine activities too, huh? Like a nice chase through the trees.” You nudge him with your hip as the normal side of his room comes into view. “I really did make some good distance!”

Alastor smirks down at you. “You seem like you had a grand time running from me, darling. Perhaps we repeat the experiment- see how long you can evade me next time before I catch you.”

“If you can catch me without cheating I’m game,” you say, and yelp in surprise when he swipes an arm under your legs to carry you the way he had last time, depositing you onto the bed. You’re enveloped in his scent again he he lowers himself down to you, tongue trailing between the folds of the robe and descending, and before Alastor ensures that you’re so mindless with pleasure that you can’t sass him, you have the faint thought that you really should start thinking about what you want out of this deal before he asks again.

You can’t have him knowing that you’re content to keep going just like this, splayed in his bed with a sky full of stars just out of reach.

#hazbin hotel #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #x reader #my stuff <3

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kairiscorner · 1 year ago

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❝KEEPING SECRETS❞ — miles 42 x reader (part 1)

⋆✮↪ summary: he thought he was doing right by you by keeping you at a distance, by keeping you in the dark of everything he was doing. he thought it was right to keep his secrets... just so he wouldn't lose you. well, in the end, was it worth it? ⋆✮↪ pairing: miles 42 x gn!reader ⋆✮↪ word count: 1,864 ⋆✮↪ author's note: tbh, i wanted to make the idea about miles 42, not really bc of the angst but bc i wanted to write more about my other son, i don't feel like i make enough for him 😭😭😭also i'm sorry if the spanish is wrong, i'm not fluent, but if y'all are willing to correct me for it, by all means, please do! I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE THIS THOUGHHHH (reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

the line on the other end beeped, he never did bother to leave a voicemail to whoever called anyway. you set your phone down with a sigh as you stirred your drink mindlessly, looking at your phone, hoping that at least he sent a message, saying he got your call, even if he wouldn't ask why you called. you put your hands to your face and tried to calm down, collect your thoughts before doing anything rash. this was a normal occurrence for you two already, you always calling out for him or texting him, and you going completely unnoticed by him; and the worst part? he's been your boyfriend. for six months.

you wanted to watch miles walk in through the door of the restaurant and sit himself down across you, all so you could take your drink and splash it all over him, not caring what he'd say or think of you while you'd drench him. hell, maybe you'd even throw the cup at his face, but you felt bad thinking about that, you didn't want to stoop too low. besides... you loved him, you really did--and you knew he loved you, too, kind of. you knew the exact reason as to why he always misses out on dates with you, always leaves your calls unanswered and your texts unread, and it wasn't because he was cheating on you or catching up on any homework, no--it was because he was the prowler.

he was a vigilante, he was one criminals and authorities alike couldn't get their hands on--a cruel one, many would call him, ruthless--but not to you. he saved you from a band of crooks that were going to rob you of all that you had when you were heading home on your own one night, and the way the prowler held you, the way you heard his heart beat and felt the warmth throughout his whole body as he held you close to his chest, when he kept murmuring to you you're okay, you're okay... you never forgot that feeling. and when you met miles, when you two started dating and getting more close, more intimate... you were reminded of that feeling when the prowler saved you, when miles saved you.

but despite knowing his secret, you needed him to tell you. it was his secret, and you valued your boyfriend's privacy. he was entitled to his own secrets, as you were entitled to yours. but you wished he at least... could at least show up, could at least make time for you and be there for you when you needed him. and tonight was just that night, because tomorrow, you were going to be trying out for your school's varsity team; the stakes were high enough as it was already for you and you felt pressured, extremely pressed, to push yourself further than what you can already do now. miles promised you, weeks before this, that he'd be there for you--he'd be there when you needed him, he promised; but now, where was he?

you refused to wait for him any longer; you chugged your drink and with an irritated sigh, you left the restaurant behind you, fuming as you thought of what to tell him, what to ask him, how to tell him tomorrow that you... you were so disappointed in him. tomorrow eventually came, and you made your way through the flood of faces in the hallway, catching miles collecting his stuff from his locker, his back turned to the people passing him by. you grabbed him by his shoulder, glaring at him with an icy stare as you narrowed your eyes at him. "que pasa, cielo?" miles asked you with a raised eyebrow and a perplexed look on his face in response to your scowling, as if he had no clue as to why you were so infuriated with him. "miles, where were you?" you asked him in an exasperated tone, clearly exhausted, and clearly in need of answers.

not looking to anger you, miles looked away and murmured, "i was... helping my tio aaron fix up his car, no biggie." "i called your uncle aaron last night, he said you were sleeping." you pressed him as he shut his locker's door, not looking back towards you as he began to walk away to defuse the situation, at least, he thought it would defuse it. you were not having it, though, and followed him through the crowds of people that were passing you two in the hallway. "i slept because my tio made me do some heavy lifting, he insisted i should've gone to bed, that's all." he answered you back as he held himself back from getting any more agitated with this mountain of lies and excuses he's made for himself.

if you only knew just how much miles wanted to tell you the truth, how he wanted to be upfront and honest with you, tell you the real reason why he's been missing out on dates with you, not being able to answer your calls or texts, being unable to support when you need him, when he wants to be there for you... but being the prowler isn't just something he can quit, it's a job he takes up so no one else he loves, and especially not you, gets hurt or taken away from him.

you breathe in deeply as you try to put up with his crappy excuse again. "well, alright, but you never bothered to answer my calls? surely you would've woken up, right, your phone's always got its sound on. hell, you could've texted me, explained why you couldn't come, because i would've understood, i'd've understood if you just told me--" you said as you grasped miles' hand, but he was in no mood to face you right now. he wasn't angry nor disappointed in you, of course not; he believed you had every right to be angry, but miles was angry at... himself. he couldn't bear to have you face him, put up with him when he knew what he was doing wasn't enough to keep you happy. he yanked his hand away from your grasp and turned to face you, anger and fury filling his face.

"no digas cosas que no sientes! you don't mean that, not when you don't know anything! have you ever thought of that?!"

he yelled at you. he raised his voice at you.

...he really doesn't believe in you, does he?

miles panted as he tried to shake the simmering rage and aggression he was feeling off. he couldn't stomach it, the fact he should've been there with you that night, reassuring you, comforting you, supporting you like he promised--just being there to listen to you would've been enough, but he couldn't even do that. he felt like he was being tortured when he brought himself to look at you in the eyes, he didn't feel like he deserved you, of being loved by you. "cielo, i..." miles spoke as he tried to gather his thoughts, say he was sorry he snapped--but no words followed his quieting voice. his mouth was open, but no words came out. you looked at him in utter bafflement as the fact he spoke to you like that sunk in, piercing your heart like a dagger. all you wanted was the truth, the truth to come out of his own lips in his own voice by his own volition--but he couldn't even give you that without a fight, almost as if you didn't deserve the truth.

you realized it too late, and soon felt the hot tears rolling down your cheeks and staining your uniform's blazer and making small pools of tears on the floor. your lips twisted into a frown, the corners of your lips quivering as you sniffled back the tears, telling yourself to quit crying, but crying even harder as your inner voice got louder. "what am i doing wrong, miles?" you made out with a sob as your crying intensified, with the tears flowing faster and harder. "am i not... not good enough, not worth... not worth being given your time? i try to see things... from where you stand, but... how can i even begin to do that when you're not even... you're not even with me at all anymore?" you asked him in between your cries as miles looks at you, about to take a step forward and comfort you, but he stops himself. his eyes are filled with regret and shame for what he just did, what he just said to you.

the other students in the hall were drawn to the drama occurring between you two in the middle of the hallway, with some coming over to get a better look, others buzzing around for questions on who did what, what happened where and why. miles tried to open his mouth to speak, to say a word of apology, but his voice seemed stuck in his throat as he opened his mouth and closed it again. "i can't be with you anymore. we're done, miles." you said in a louder voice, which caused miles' heart to stop beating for a few seconds, benumbing him as he stepped back and was stuck in place, processing what you just told him. you ran off, away from everyone's stares, leaving miles alone there to reflect on what he just did.

miles tried to get himself to run after you, open his mouth and finally release the voice that longed to speak your name, call you and apologize a million apologies that would only be the tip of the iceberg. he did what he had to to keep you safe, to... keep you, but he ended up losing you in the process. he lost you because he didn't meet with you, he didn't keep his promise, he couldn't keep a single promise, which was why he couldn't even keep you.

the onlookers and bystanders eventually moved away and awkwardly filled in the silence that was left between you two with mindless chatter and murmuring. miles eventually came to his senses, partially, and slowly walked away from the spot he was frozen on after he let what just happened sink into him. he headed off to his first class with a murky and somber expression as he realized he lost you. he tried to conceal his despair and dejection, until ganke came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "miles, are you--" "they left me." miles responded briefly, his voice quiet and hushed, as if to mask the utter sorrow he was experiencing. ganke gazed up at miles, who was now tearing up slightly, a few tears streaking down his cheeks. "they left me, ganke. i was... i was so... i wasn't doing enough..." he wept as he leaned against ganke, with ganke patting him on the shoulder as he walked him off to their first class. miles tread to class with a storm brewing in his mind, he couldn't focus on nor understand a single thing except for the fact that he's lost you.

but he won't give up that easily.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @solecitoszn @q2ie @anikaluv @zalayni

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year ago

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What's Eight Plus Seven?

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

Pizza order successfully placed, Steve dials Robin's number next. He doesn't need to talk long, just... hear her voice. Maybe get some verbal support.

"Buckley residence."

"Thank God it's you," Steve sighs in relief to hear Robin's voice on the other end. There was a little bit of dread that her mom might have answered and then he'd be stuck on the phone while she tried to chat with him.

"Whoa. Was hosting the nerdfest that bad?" Robin asks, laughter in her voice.

"Uhh," Steve starts, because he's eloquent like that.

"Oh no. Was is that bad? What happened?"

He feels a flood of warmth for Robin's immediate concern. "No, no, nerdfest was fine. I, uhh, mostly I'm calling because Eddie and I are gonna, like, hang out and talk and I just- I dunno. Wanted to hear your voice, first."

"Oh. Really? Well. Here's my voice. This is you hearing it."

He laughs at that. "Thanks. It's just, I think it's gonna be, like, a bathroom floor kind of conversation, except in my living room on a couch."

"Oh! I can be there in ten if you need me."

"Nah. This is just- me needing to hear your voice, and also a warning that I might have to crawl through your window and fall apart on your bed later. Just don't know how this is going to go."

"I'm here if you need me. Are you going to talk about Freshman First Day?"

"We, uhh, already did. Mostly. There's been apologies and now we're gonna talk. Get to know each other. Play 20 questions, I guess."

Robin laughs at that. "Alright. Ask him if he's ever going to get me the sandwich he owes me from back in November."

"What?"

"You know, his whole cafeteria speech thing? Stepped right on my ham and cheese. It did make him slip and almost brain himself, and he did apologize. Told me he owed me a new sandwich. I never got it. Ask for me."

"We'll see. Okay, I'm going to go but, thank you. Love you."

"Love you, too. Window will be ajar."

Steve hangs up, then opens the fridge. He debates grabbing them beers but opts for soda. Back in the living room Steve finds Eddie sitting like a normal person on the couch, one leg bouncing relentlessly. Even with his superficial knowledge of Eddie, he can tell he's nervous. Not nervous Eddie would be perched on the back of his couch, ruining the cushions with whatever junk is on the bottom of his shoes. Probably.

"Soda?" Steve offers, plopping himself on the other end of the couch, hand outstretched for Eddie to take the beverage.

"Thanks." The bouncing of Eddie's leg pauses for a moment while he's opening and chugging half the can in one swift motion, then the bouncing starts again.

"Hey, man, relax. You didn't seem nearly as nervous when you were trying to sneakily hang out earlier."

Eddie lets out a big sigh. "Yeah, well, I didn't know you hated me then."

"I don't hate you."

"Oh, shit, no. Not what- I meant, like, past tense. Hated as in, used to hate. Not present tense."

"Ah. Well, I don't think I 'hated as in used to hate' past, like, three months into my freshman year. This is going to be the most self-absorbed shit ever, but, like, once I became popular, I couldn't be bothered to hate you. Didn't have the time to put towards that."

"Oh, of that I've no doubt. That was absolutely the read everyone who tried to interact with you got."

Steve ducks his head to hide his own embarrassment by fiddling with the can in his hands. "I thought you wanted to do, like, 20 questions or something."

"Oh. Serious? You'll do it?"

"Yeah."

"Right then. What even are the rules for 20 questions? Is it 20 questions each, or in total asked?"

"I dunno, man. I don't think people actually keep track. I think we just ask questions until we're done with talking. I guess the rules are don't lie, and if you don't want to answer a question, then don't. Pass on it, or whatever."

Eddie nods but he's still nervous, leg still bouncing. A look on his face so close to fear it makes Steve ache a little. He knows too well what far looks like on Eddie, experienced a week's worth of it.

Steve can start. Ease them into this. "Do you got a favorite color?"

Eddie shifts then. Turns sideways on the couch to lean against the armrest and face him. "Wait. One more rule. No mocking answers. You may laugh once at an answer."

"If you are about to tell me it's hot pink, I cannot follow that rule."

"It's not hot pink. Jesus. It's, uhh, brown, actually," Eddie says, rolling his can between his hands. "It used to be red but. I dunno. When I think of red, now, I think of the sky in the upside down and how that was almost the last thing I ever saw. I think of blood, and bleeding out."

And here he thought he was easing them into this with the most basic of questions. Eddie's already being vulnerable. "Follow up question, if you'll allow it. Why brown?"

"What's wrong with brown?"

"Nothing. Just thought you'd pick black or something," Steve gestures to all of Eddie.

At that, Eddie looks down at his mostly black outfit, the only part of it with any color is the DIO album art on his shirt, then back up. "Fair point. I guess brown just makes me think of home. The wooden porch, the paneling, brown dirt road that leads to the trailer. It's also, like, a good eye color. Exhibit A," He waves his hand in front of his face, batting his eyes exaggeratedly. It pulls a laugh from Steve.

"I can't argue that," Steve waves towards his face, where his own eyes have been described by many a girl as ranging from hazel to honey, but Steve just thinks of them as brown. "Your turn, man."

"You, tragically, had never heard of Ozzy before we met. What's your music of choice, and why is it the Top 40?"

"Like everybody didn't hear you singing along to I Wanna Dance With Somebody last week when it came on the radio at the Byers' Barbecue-"

"Whitney is a national treasure and I will not be slandered for knowing the words to any of her songs."

"Yeah, yeah. I guess it was just the Top 40, but really I don't have a preference. I just let other people pick the music. And, uhh, with the multiple concussions I don't listen to as much music as I used to. The migraines are brutal. It's never the music that brings on the migraine but like, it never helps, y'know?"

Eddie is nodding. "I do know. Like when you get sick and vomit, you avoid the last thing you ate, even when it turns out to be the flu and not food poisoning. Like, you know it wasn't the mango milkshake that made you throw up, but you avoid the mango flavor anyway."

There's definitely a full story in that somewhere. Maybe Steve will ask about it later. "Kinda? I don't avoid music but I don't think I've put a record or cassette in the player in months. Anyway, my turn. How'd you learn to play the guitar?"

"Wayne. He started teaching me before I live with him. Just a few chords when we'd visit every so often when I was little. Really got to learn after he took me in. I was eleven, if memory serves."

"Am I allowed to ask about your parents?" Steve interrupts.

"Yeah. Speaking of parents," Eddie's nervous again, bouncing his leg.

"It's your turn. Ask."

"I know the high school reputation. Big house, no parents. I might have even snuck over a few times to sale here when I knew a party was happening. Rich kids will pay whatever price you name, y'know? So, guess the actual question is, what's the deal there, with your parents?"

Steve would laugh except he has no memory of ever seeing Eddie at his house prior to all the fuckery that's gone down. He was too in his own head to bother with other people back then. And the real kicker? He probably bought from Eddie, at his own house, with his supposed grudge and all. God, he was such a dick. "Yeah. Lots of business trips, for them. The used to ship me off to spend a month with my grandparents when I was little, so they could take those trips. Guess once I was old enough to watch after myself, those trips started to happen whenever, instead of just over summer."

"What, they left you here alone as a kid? Even during the school year?"

Eddie sounds so scandalized it'd be funny if it wasn't so sad. Steve says, "I wouldn't say kid. I was fourteen, so, like, a teenager. But, yeah, gone a lot. More and more with each passing year. I mean, they've been back, but like, for a day or two. Mom switching out what jewelry she wanted and dad bit by bit emptying his office." He pauses with a frown, remembering now the last time he did see his parents face to face. "It was about halfway through senior year. The last time they were here. They didn't even come to my graduation."

Eddie sucks in a breath and Steve can visibly see him hold back some choice words.

"Anyway, long sob story short, I'm still just a rich kid with absent parents. They don't charge me rent or anything, but I pay to keep the lights on."

"That just adds so many more questions to my list."

"Well, it's my turn now, so. What got you into Dungeons and Dragons?"

Eddie looks surprised, and then guilty. "I've always liked fantasy. And, uhh, my Freshman First Day, the DnD booth was set up in the cafeteria, an okayish looking dragon drawn on the poster taped to the booth's edge. And, uh, I approached..."

"No one told you to fuck off?"

"I didn't tell you to fuck off."

"Might've hurt less if you had," Steve hadn't even meant that to be insulting, or insinuating, but it doesn't land. He'd been aiming for teasing and missed the mark, given the way Eddie jerks back, like he's trying to put more distance between them. "Oh, shit, Eddie, I didn't mean- I was-"

The doorbell rings out and both jump, turning to the front door like it might bite them. The bell chimes again, and it's then Steve remembers he ordered pizza. Wordlessly Steve gets up and deals with that. Pays for the pizza and gives a tip, stops in the kitchen long enough to grab some napkins, then folds himself back onto the couch, placing the pizza box on the cushions between them.

The time away from the couch, less than three minutes in total, Steve thinks, was enough to calm Eddie again, since he starts the teasing, "greasy pizza box directly onto the cushions! That'll never come out you know."

Steve shrugs and grins, flipping the box open to grab a pizza slice. "That's a problem for Future Steve."

Eddie grabs his own slice, and they just eat their first slices in silence before Steve breaks that, "I really wasn't trying to- earlier, I was trying to joke. About Freshman First Day. Not, uh, not like, pick a fight. So, if you still want to talk, I think it's your turn to ask a question. Any question. A big question."

"Alright. A big one. Who is Christopher?"

"Okay. Uh, just, give me a moment. I'll answer and I'm gonna be real honest right now with you, so just let me get through this, ok?"

Eddie nods, reaching for a second slice of pizza.

Steve gathers his thoughts, and speaks. "Christopher was my cousin. His family lives in Washington, so I don't see them much. You know that 'shipped off to the grandparents' thing I told you about earlier? Christopher, and his younger siblings, Amber and Robert, also came out to visit.

"I think my grandparents loved to have us all there. My cousins were there for family time, and I was there to just... not be in my parent's way, I think, but the reason why doesn't matter. The important bit. Christopher was two years older than me, and I thought he was the coolest person in the world. I wanted to be just like him. That last summer we spent together, he told me all about the game of Dungeons and Dragons he'd played with his club at school.

"It made me want to play. I was a kid who loved fantasy, too. I had to pretend to leave that behind when I got into middle school; too afraid of disappointing my dad for still liking make believe. I didn't know at the time that making him proud was just something I'd never achieve.

"Anyway, Christopher introduced me to the game, told me the entire campaign they'd run at his school, and then sent me those books. He's the reason I was at the booth that day. If Christopher could play sports and be a nerd, maybe I could, too? But, uh, that didn't go how I planned in my head. And, then. Then," Steve stops here, a knot in his throat but his eyes dry. It's not that he doesn't still mourn the loss of Christopher, it's just that the tears have dried up long ago. "Christopher committed suicide, that year. Halfway through the school year. I think... I think even if I had joined your club, if you had let me take that flier, I would have dropped out after the funeral. I'd wanted to join so bad so that Christopher would be proud of me."

The room has lost focus, now. Steve is staring forward but he doesn't really see Eddie anymore. It's like he's fallen into his thoughts and nothing else exists anymore. "It's a bit fucked up, but being older than me, I think I looked for approval in him that I didn't find in my dad, or maybe I wanted to be him because his parents were so proud of everything he did and I wanted that. Approval. I- it's- I think I used to confuse the two. Approval and love. Maybe I still do? I dunno.

"I guess I just wrapped all that up, the need for approval, Christopher's suicide, my love for fantasy, and shoved it in the same bottle deep down that I kept my anger at you in," Steve blinks himself back into the present. Takes in Eddie's face, a mix of sad and fond, like he wants to wrap Steve in a hug. Steve would probably let him. "That wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry."

Eddie shakes his head no. "You don't have to apologize to me, Stevie. I get it. You wore your jockness that same way I wear The Freak. Like armor. You weren't wrong, earlier, when you said we were dumb kids who learned to lash out and hurt first, so we couldn't be hurt. I was fucking, no, I am still like that. I mean, I just lashed back out at you when all you did was point out how I'd acted to you."

"Yeah, well, life gives everyone a shit hand sometimes. I used to capitalize on that. Kick people when they were down. It's- it's humbling and, like, awful, to unpack that. I know I'm still working on it, but I didn't have to do it alone. Robin and Dustin have been there for me. Great. They call me on my bullshit and it's easier to take then, hearing it from people I know who care about me."

"Guess I better ask find someone to call me out then."

"Haven't you already?" Steve asks, gesturing to himself.

Eddie barks a laugh. "I- yeah, I guess. You sayin' you care, Harrington?"

"Of course I do, man. We wouldn't be doing this -talking about deep shit and getting pizza grease all over my couch- if I didn't."

He watches Eddie turn red, and hide behind his hair. "Could just be doing it for the kids."

"I could. Guess you'll have to trust I'm not. That I also want a do over."

Eddie shoots him a big smile, dimples on full display, and Steve's happy to let go of his grudge if it means Eddie will smile at him like that more.

((Looks like there's going to be one more part. Thought this would be the last one but the boys wouldn't cooperate so next part.))

#steddie #my fic #what's eight plus seven?#Steve is a recovering rescue dog and Robin is his thunder blanket #dialogue heavy. like. so heavy #they're 'playing' 20 questions so like the whole fic is just talking #platonic soulmates

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theglamorousferal · 5 months ago

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Persephone's Binding Part 6

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Jason crouched into a fighting stance, mimicking Danny. They began to circle each other, making a complete circle of the training ring in the process.

"One of us has to move first, and you're the one who wanted to test me." Jason quipped. Danny lunged, intending to hit a spot of fabric visible between Jason's armor.

Jason dodged, then went to hit Danny in the middle of his back, only for him to fall through him. He tucked into a roll and popped up on on knee. "Okay, now that's not fair. Density shifting? Didn't think I'd be fighting someone like the Martian."

Danny paused. "Martian?" He shook his head. "Never mind, I can ask later. I'm already handicapping myself with like half, the shit I can do keeping projectiles outta the fight. At least let me keep my basics."

Jason looked at him suspicious. "What are your basics?"

"Oh just intangibility, invisibility, flight and super-strength." Danny grinned like the little shit he was. Definitely a younger sibling. Jason thought. He rolled his eyes and got to his feet, ending up in a fighting stance again.

"Yeah, but If I can't touch you at all how are you gonna gauge how I fight?"

Danny tilted his head and squinted his eyes at him. "You have a point." He pouted. "Fine, I need dodging practice anyway."

"Good, now come at me." Jason gestured. Danny gave up trying to obey gravity and flew straight at Jason's mid-section, intending to tackle him. He was not expecting Jason to flip out of the way and to the side, before landing facing where Danny now was positioned.

Danny growled and then leapt towards Jason swinging at his face; Jason did not expect the kick to the stomach. With the air punched out of his lungs, Jason swiped at Danny's head, intending to knock him over. He only managed to send him spinning towards the railing before Danny caught and righted himself.

"You good?" He asked as Jason wheezed a breath in.

"Yeah, I'm good, when was the last time you fought a human kid?"

Danny froze for a moment before a dark look passed over his face. "About seven months. And I was aiming to harm." He shook himself after a moment before a guilty expression flashed across his face.

"I'm good, I promise. Just maybe pull it back a little so you don't accidentally break a few ribs." Jason waved him off, jumping a bit and getting himself psyched back up. "Let's go."

They continued to spar for hours. Danny won the first match, then Jason. The third they got each other locked in a grapple that neither could break and called it a draw. They moved onto weapons after that, first with swords, edges dull for training, then staffs. After a bit they broke for some water.

"So, your sister mentioned you were attending IRU? What's that?" Jason asked after chugging half a bottle.

"Oh, Infinite Realms University. There were a bunch of entities, ghost and neverborn alike, whose obsessions are either teaching or have decided that to feed their obsession and therefore existence, that they would teach others about it. It started as a group of ghosts who manifested together and then slowly expanded to cover every conceivable subject or degree. Myself and a couple of friends are trying to put together a way to do online classes so the people in Amity can attend."

"Oh, so they take full humans?" Maybe I can get a degree if I'm stuck here.

"I mean, they take anyone at all if they can handle the ambient ectoplasm."

"Right, you have both mentioned that. What exactly is ectoplasm? I nebulously know it has something to do with ghosts, but nothing further. Ghosts aren't really a thing in my world as far as I'm aware."

"Right, Jazz mentioned you're new to literally all of this stuff. We grew up with it and then I have it as a lived experience. Here's this is a form of ectoplasm." Danny allowed ectoplasm to pool in his cupped hands. It was florescent green and giving off a glow that shone across Danny's armor.

"That looks like Lazarus water but not bubbling. Can I touch it?"

"Probably not until we get your soul looked at. I mean, I can see it if I look, but I won't know what I'm looking at."

Jason paused. "You can see my soul?" He asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, it's something I've been working on with some of my teachers. Kinda tricky to learn, and you need a proto-core at least to do it. It's taken me a few years to get it down right, now I gotta take more lessons on recognizing differences and classifications, I need to learn before I take the big chair." He chugged the rest of his water bottle and wiped his face with his arm.

"You nervous?" Jason asked.

"Wouldn't you? All I did was fight a dude like I always did to save my town and it resulted in being ghost royalty." He grumbled.

"I mean, I tried to steal the tired off a car and it resulted in me being able to summon mystical glowing swords."

"No way."

Jason smirked and stood, holding his hands out and willing the All-Blades to appear. Glowing flame-like blades sprang to life from his closed fists.

"Okay, that's pretty cool. I mean, I can do that with ice too, see?" Danny holds out his own hands and two swords made from ice appeared to grow from them.

They both looked at each other's weapons, then caught each other's eyes and smirked in unison. "Race ya to the ring!" Danny yelled then lumped high into the air above Jason who scrambled towards the ring.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #dc x dp #sacrificial bride au #hardcover ship #anger management ship #jazz x jason #jazz/jason #ghost king au

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 8 months ago

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Hard to Shake (M, cold)

Woof, that was too long of a hiatus. I'm back with some Greyson sickfic! In this, Greyson has a one night stand and ends up 'running into' his hookup in a not-so-stellar way. This was a fun write, I'm feeling a little rusty after taking a couple months off writing but I hope you all like it. Please let me know what ya think, good, bad or indifferent! :)

CW: M snz, colds, contagion, coughing, some M/M romance but nothing above PG-13 lol. 5k words (it's a slow burn, shocker, I know)

Hard to Shake

The club was dark, humid, and loud as fuck - just the way he liked it.

“I’ll get us drinks,” Matt said, disappearing into the crowd to push towards the bar without waiting on Greyson’s response. Not that he would have stopped his counterpart; Matt had a boyfriend waiting for him at the end of this black hole of a night. Greyson, alternatively, was on the prowl for a bed, and someone to share it with.

They had begun the night at two pm, just an hour after brunch ended, since the only way to get a proper buzz on a Sunday was to start early as hell. Elijah had closed the restaurant early – “We’ve had ten guests all day. It’s too damn hot for brunch, and I want to go home” – and Mark was currently on a plane home from England after a week spent with family; it was like the universe was begging them to go out.

The restaurant’s reservations had been capped at a tiny number the next two days to prepare for their food writer dinner on Wednesday, and Greyson was so nervous about this career-shaping dinner that he could barely keep himself from lapsing into panic attacks at the slightest provocation; it was Matt who insisted on the bender.

“We haven’t gone on a good one since Mark and I got together,” the sous chef had said after service. “And you need a drink, you're acting like a psycho.”

Greyson, never one to deny himself a good binge drink, had taken the bait and allowed himself to be paraded through the city for the rest of the day. Now, at eleven pm and with Mark back at his and Matt's place safe and sound, Greyson could feel the night coming to a close. Time to round it out with a good old-fashioned one-night-stand.

Without waiting for Matt to return with the drinks, Greyson sashayed onto the dance floor and began grinding on whoever seemed the most into it – he ground on a group of drunk men, twirled between two gorgeous women who laughed giddily through the song, and put his tongue into so many people’s mouths that he lost count. Of course it was fun; it always was. But the hunt for a bed partner had proven, thus far, unsuccessful.

“There you are,” Matt slurred, coming up behind his boss and shoving a whiskey into his hand. “Why do you always run off? I’m about three seconds away from getting you one of those toddler-leash backpacks.”

“Makin’ friends, Matty boy,” Greyson said, chugging his drink and slamming the glass onto the closest table he could find. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of goin’ home to a warm, naked man in our bed.” Greyson elbowed Matt playfully and the younger man rolled his eyes.

“Fair ‘nough,” he said, sipping his drink. “Hey, actually, I saw someone who was exactly your type back near the bar. Talkin’ about food and everything.” Greyson raised his eyebrows, intrigued, and Matt looped his arm into his boss’s and led him back towards the horseshoe-shaped bar. “Let’s see if we can’t get you fucked to sleep.”

Matt pushed the two of them through the crowd, his head on a swivel, until finally he spotted the man he’d been talking about. “There he is,” Matt said, pushing Greyson towards the bar. “Do your thing.”

The sous hadn’t lied; this man was quintessential Greyson’s type. Shorter than his six-foot-three-inches by about half a foot, perfect skin, hair coiffed in a way that just smelled of total pretentious douchebag, and a full blazer and dress pants at the club. Oh yeah, Greyson thought, pulling the elastic out of his sandy curls and shaking them to fall around his shoulders, there’s the rest of my evening.

“Hi,” Greyson said, pushing himself in front of whoever the guy had been talking to before. “Can I buy you a drink?”

***

In his defense, he hadn't known the condition of the man he'd left with until they got to his apartment. The club had been dark; he could barely hear the sound of his own voice, let alone the wheeze of someone else’s. And he’d been really, really drunk.

“Hh-! EISHH-oo! ISHH-oo!” The man – Reed, Greyson had learned his name was – curled into his elbow to sneeze as he pushed open the door to his apartment. “Shit, pardon mbe,” he muttered, clearing his throat and beckoning Greyson in. The chef, blasted as he was, simply ignored Reed’s constant sneezing.

“Now, where were we?” Greyson purred, pawing the back of Reed’s head and pulling it into his own. The two stood in the entry of Reed’s apartment – a truly incredible fifteenth-story one-bedroom in the Upper East Side with its own doorman – making out until Reed had to pull away to catch his breath.

“Shit,” he said again, panting, “sorry. Thought the worst of this fuckin’ cold was behind mbe but – ISHHOO! Snrf. Apparently ndot.” He wiped his nose on the back of his hand and cringed. “I understand if you don’t want to stay,” he said, giving Greyson an apologetic look.

Greyson remained unfettered. “Reed,” he said, taking a step back towards the other man. “Stop talking. And get in bed.”

Reed’s face colored. He opened his mouth to say something, but Greyson cut him off with another kiss.

“What did I just say?” Greyson asked, taking off his t-shirt and unbuttoning Reed’s expensive-looking button down. “Get in the bed -” - he yanked the shirt off the smaller man and licked him, navel to collar bone, prompting a moan - “- and let me take care of you.”

To his credit, Reed did as he was told. He did as he was told all night long.

***

“Lij, I don’t want to alarm you.”

“Greyson, I don’t want to hear it. Zip it. I’m being so serious right now.”

“I don’t want to alarm you,” Greyson repeated, slamming the rest of the bottle of Pedialyte and holding onto the prep table as if for dear life, “but I think I may be dying. I think I may need you to call me an ambulance.”

Elijah swung his chair around and strode towards the chef. He took the sunglasses Greyson had placed on his face the moment he walked inside the bright kitchen and tossed them across the room. He regarded the chef with an annoyance usually reserved for parents of crying toddlers at Disneyland.

“Your drinking antics, Grey, are what most people would describe as ‘a you problem’. You decide to get unreasonably wasted and then come in to prep one of the biggest dinners of your career? That’s a you problem. I don’t want to hear it. The only thing I want to hear is your knife going into and out of different types of food.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to hear about the incredibly hot guy I hooked up with last night?” Greyson asked, a smile blooming at his lips. Elijah, despite himself, felt his eyebrows raise halfway up his face.

“But you haven’t slept with anyone in months,” he said, annoyed at himself for taking the bait but too curious to stop himself from saying anything. “I thought you were on a self-imposed time-out?”

Greyson shrugged, pushed his hair into a bun at the top of his head, and secured it with an elastic. “I was,” he said. “But - and you’re not going to believe this, but it’s true – I am finally feeling… I dunno. Healed?”

“Healed?” Elijah asked, snorting. “I think you’ve been taking too many hot yoga classes. Like, spiritually healed?”

Greyson tipped his head back and forth, considering. “Kind of,” he said. “Like… ready. Moved on from Collin. Prepared to get back out there for real, not in a self-punishing way.”

Elijah whistled, long and low. “Wow,” he said, patting Greyson’s back. “Well, congrats, man. A little over a year and you’re finally back on your feet. That’s actually quite impressive.”

“Thanks,” Greyson laughed, shoving Elijah playfully. “I was also really drunk and you know nothing stops drunk-Greyson when he decides he’s going to sleep with someone.”

“There it is,” Elijah said, rolling his eyes and laughing. “So… tell me about him. Did you get his name?”

Greyson dead-panned his boss as he pulled knives out of his bag and cracked his neck. “Yes, I got his name, Elijah. That’s what healed people do, they get people’s names before sleeping with them, and I am, as previously stated, healed.”

Elijah flipped the chef off lazily, non-committal. “Well, out with it then,” he said. “What’s his name? Tell me about the night.”

“His name is Reed Parker, and we fucked til the sun came out,” Greyson said simply, laughing at his own gregariousness. He looked up when he realized that Elijah wasn’t laughing – in fact, his face had gone stark-white. “What?”

“Reed Parker?” Elijah asked, pulling out his phone. “You’re sure that’s his name?”

“Umm, according to him at least, yeah,” Greyson said, unwrapping a pan with a cleaned striploin in it. “Why, do you know him?”

“No,” Elijah said, pushing his phone towards Greyson. “But if that’s him, we’re going to know him in two days.”

Greyson looked down at the phone and felt the wave of nausea he’d been holding back all morning wash over him – oh. Oh, no.

Pulled up on Elijah’s phone was an Instagram post from The Foodie Society – a group of well-acclaimed food critics and writers in the city. The group that was hosting a dinner at Elliot’s in two days. The group that would likely be the deciding factor in whether Greyson got nominated for a James Beard award this year.

We are so excited to announce Reed Parker, writer of the extremely popular food blog, ‘Eat Like You Mean It’, as our newest Foodie Society member! Reed has been a prolific writer and food critic in the city for nearly five years, and we are so delighted to have him aboard. Can’t wait to collaborate with you, Reed!

Above the blurb was a photo of – undoubtedly – the man that Greyson had slept with the night before. He looked markedly healthier in the photo, and his hair was a little longer, but there wasn’t any was it wasn’t him. Greyson swallowed hard.

“Oh… shit,” Greyson muttered, lowering himself to the floor. “Oh, no.”

“Maybe he was drunk, too?” Elijah said, the panic clear in his voice. “Maybe he won’t remember?” Elijah kneeled down next to Greyson, trying to console him. “Hey, Grey, it’s alright. Obviously you guys didn’t know who the other one was. It’s not like he’s going to think you slept with him to get the nomination. It was just drunk sex. Right?”

“He gave me an out,” Greyson muttered, shaking his head. He looked up at Elijah, eyes wild. “Maybe he did know, or maybe he figured it out on the walk back to his place, because he gave me a fuckin’ out.”

“What do you mean?” Elijah asked, pulling Greyson back to his feet. The chef stood, but placed his head in his hands and his elbows on the prep table, as if to steady himself.

“He was getting over some sort of sickness, and he said he’d understand if I didn’t want to stay. He basically told me to get out and I just… fuck. I told him I didn’t care, and I stayed the night. Shit. I’m never going to get nominated now. There’s no fucking way.” Greyson rubbed both hands down his face and shook his head in disbelief. “I fucked myself.”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, taking his friend’s chin and lifting it so their eyes met. “You didn’t fuck yourself. Okay? He didn’t know it was you. It was a mistake, and also he’s brand new there, it’s not like he’s THE deciding factor. Just – wait, did you say he was sick?”

Greyson, his chin still in Elijah’s fingers, looked away from his boss with just his eyes. “Uhh… I mean, yeah, kind of, I guess. He had some sort of cold, I think.”

“You purposely slept with someone who was sick three days before this huge dinner?”

“Umm… did I mention I was really drunk?”

Elijah sighed loudly and threw his hands in the air. “Never a dull fuckin’ moment with you, is there?” he mumbled, storming into the office and pillaging through their medicine cabinet. He returned a moment later with Emergen-C and Airborne in his hands. “Take those.”

“Yes, sir,” Greyson muttered, pulling them to his side of the table. “Sorry.”

“I think it’s crazy that out of all the millions of people you probably saw yesterday, the one you just so happened to pick is a food writer who could decide your future fate who also had a fucking cold. There wasn’t a single other person in the city you could sleep with?”

“Apparently not,” Greyson muttered, pouring Emergen-C into his water bottle. Elijah took a deep breath before continuing.

“Let’s just… let’s try to get through the next couple days,” he said, heading back to the office. “I am glad you want to get back out there,” he continued from afar, “just maybe give them a cursory Google before you bang them next time. Okay?”

Greyson, completely deflated, just nodded. He swallowed and thought he could already feel a twinge of a sore throat, which would just figure. His dick had sealed his fate. Fuck.

***

Tuesday, May 12

NEW MESSAGE

Matt

3:53pm

r u almost back??? idk how much longer I can handle them at each others throats.

Mark

3:58pm

On my way back now! Are they at each other’s throats again?? I thought they were over it..

Matt

3:59pm

has elijah ever REALLY been over smthn..? & greyson’s going down fast af so hes pissy.

Mark

4:02pm

It seemed like he was in the downward slide when I left...ugh. ok, I’ll be back in 15!

“We are ndot,” Greyson said from behind his sous chef, “at each other’s throats.”

Matt jumped at the sound of his boss’s voice and quickly clicked his phone screen off. “Don’t read my private texts, Chef, that’s rude.”

Greyson shrugged and pulled a tissue out of the box on the desk next to Matt. “Don’t talk shit about your boss and you don’t have to worry about mbe being ruuhh – huh! Hh...IGTSZHH-ue! Hh-NTSHZH-ue!” Greyson crumpled into the jacket he’d pulled over his chef’s coat to sneeze. His hair fell over his face, blocking the grimace he hid as he sucked in through his nose.

“Bless you, moron,” Elijah called from the dining room. Greyson rolled his eyes so hard he felt it splinter in his head. Matt winced when he saw Greyson shudder with pain, and stood from the desk.

“The prep sheets for tomorrow are all written, Chef, tell me how I can help you,” he said, guiding Greyson into the chair. Greyson allowed himself to be sat down, despite his better judgment.

“I feel pretty good about -”

“You feel pretty good? Is that a joke?” Elijah asked, pushing through the swinging kitchen doors and leaning on the office door frame. Greyson gave his boss the dirtiest look he could muster and turned back to Matt without a word to his boss.

“I feel confident about the first three courses for tomborrow’s dinner, but the steak and dessert I feel like we’re way behind. Plus I have ndo idea how the guys are looking for service tondight, so pick which one of those you’d rather tackle and I’ll – hhuh! Hh...HUHESTZHH-ue! Fuck, snrf.” Greyson grabbed another tissue and blew his nose before finishing. “I’ll do the other onde.”

Matt nodded while Elijah stood wordlessly in the doorway. “I’ll get with the guys and help them with tonight, make sure it goes smooth,” he said. Greyson nodded back and his sous looked away and scurried towards the line. Elijah, in stark contrast, pushed past Greyson and sat at the other end of their shared desk, unwilling to look away from the mess that was the executive chef.

“How ya feeling?” he asked finally. Greyson pulled another tissue out of the box just in time.

“HRTSHH-ue!” he sneezed into the tissue and let a tickling flurry of coughs escape as well. Elijah sighed, looked into the kitchen, and reached past Greyson to shut the door to their office.

“How are you feeling,” he asked again. “Seriously.”

Greyson sighed wheezily and pulled a hand down his face. “Honestly?” he said, looking Elijah in the eye, “like fuckin’ shit.”

Elijah sighed as well. “You seemed okay when you came in this morning,” he said, as though it mattered.

“I felt okay this mborning,” Greyson admitted. “I mean, I felt like it was coming but I definitely didn’t feel this… shitty.” He shrugged. “It just… I don’t kndow. Hit mbe out of nowhere.”

Elijah nodded. “I mean, if you want to leave so you’re good for tomorrow, you know I’ll understand.” Greyson just scoffed.

“I have so mbuch shit to do before tomborrow,” he said, sucking in through his nose and coughing again. “There’s ndo way in hell.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, until Elijah sighed. “Fuck, Greyson. I’m really sorry.” He looked up at his friend, the true pity evident on his face. “I know how important this dinner is to you. It’s still going to be great, okay? If you need to par it down, do it. It’s not like they know what’s on the menu til tomorrow. I’m cutting off reservations tonight so you can go home early, okay? We’re going to make this work.”

Greyson had to set his jaw to keep from tearing up. “It’s mby own damn fault,” he said. “Ndo need to baby mbe – hh...HTSHH-ue! HRTSHH! NTSHH! Huh! Huhhh-ETSZHHH-uee!” Greyson collapsed into his own lap, lapsed into coughs again. Elijah handed him a water bottle, which he took the cap off of while wiping his nose with the other hand.

“Can we go back to you being a dick to mbe?” Greyson asked, his voice rough. “That I can handle.”

Elijah pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “Sure, Chef. Get your lazy ass up and start prepping,” he joked, pushing Greyson’s arm lightly. “Sitting is for the weak.”

Greyson smirked, an attempt at a laugh that wouldn’t make him cough. “Thanks, Lij,” he said. “Let’s get this stupid fuckigg show on the road.”

***

Course One

Compressed Cantaloupe

tarragon | smoked sea salt | brown butter crumble

Reed sat in the cushy, velvet chair and attempted to make himself comfortable. He hoped beyond hope that this dinner would go as quickly as humanly possible.

After their little rendevouz at the club, of course Reed had looked Greyson up; in this day and age, who wouldn’t look up their previous night’s partner, if only to make sure they weren’t some sort of psycho killer. And after he looked him up, of course he realized that oh. It was that Greyson Abbott. The same one whose food he was about to be poised in front of. The one who he and his fellow writers gathered around this table were tasked with deciding whether or not he was worthy of a Beard nod.

Of course.

Reed shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. The other writers had started talking immediately and, this being his first dinner with them, he was feeling awkward and left out. He really could have used the distraction of talking about their craft, but apparently he would have to earn a word tossed in his direction. This was going to be a long evening.

At least the restaurant is beautiful, Reed thought to himself. He’d never been to Elliot’s before, and now he was kicking himself for it. The wrap-around bar, the view of the park, the chandeliers… everything was gorgeous. He just wished he wasn’t here with these people, under the circumstance that his fling was in the kitchen plating up. That put a bit of a damper on things.

“Good evening,” a husky voice came from the head of the table, and Reed whipped his head to see a gorgeous plate of food placed in front of him, and the absolute god of a man he’d slept with a few days before standing just feet from him. Reed swallowed hard.

“I’mb Greyson,” Greyson said, and Reed immediately clocked the congestion in his voice. So you did give him that cold. Asshole, Reed chided himself. Greyson attempted to clear his throat before continuing.

“If you’ll excuse mby voice, I’mb at the tail end of a cold,” he continued, and Reed felt his face flame. Tail end, he thought. Yeah, sure.

“Our first course is compressed cantaloupe,” Greyson said. “I hope you enjoy. Pardon mbe, I have to get back to screaming at mby cooks.”

The group laughed in earnest as the chef walked away. Reed, too embarrassed to even look at the other writers, just picked up his fork and gathered a bite on it. He stuck it in his mouth and closed his eyes.

Christ, Reed thought, he cooks as well as he fucks.

Course Two

Hamachi

yuzu pearls | grapefruit | coconut crème

“I swear to God, Mbatt, what is goigg on?” Greyson yelled the moment he walked back into the kitchen. “We’re already behind, and none of the hamachi is on the plates yet? Can we please get it the fuck together che – ehh! HhITSZHH-uh! HRITSZHH-ue!”

Greyson yanked his chef’s coat over his nose and mouth and ducked away from the plates. The cooks called, “Bless, Chef,” and Elijah came up behind him with Sudafed – “The good shit, from behind the pharmacist counter,” he’d promised Greyson earlier, when he made an emergency trip to Walgreens for medicine – and popped two into his hand.

“I just took two,” Greyson croaked, sucking in through his nose.

“Well, it sounds like they’ve already worn off,” Elijah countered. Greyson swallowed the pills and coughed. “Is he out there?”

“Of course he’s out there, Lij, did you think he’d cancel because of mbe?” Greyson said, washing his hands and heading towards the pass to place hamachi on plates. “Like you said, hopefully he doesn’t remember.”

“Hard to forget a giant, loud, blonde buffoon who’s sporting the cold you just got over,” Elijah murmured, and Greyson flipped him off. “Just saying,” Elijah said.

“I don’t have timbe to think about him,” Greyson said, swallowing painfully. “I can’t think about anything but this.”

Elijah nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “Let me jump in with the pearls.”

Course Three

Lamb Lollipop

harissa | mint chutney | bbq ‘chip’

“Pretty incredible, right?”

These were the first words uttered to Reed all night, said moments after the third course was placed in front of him and seconds after Greyson disappeared back into the kitchen. Reed could see him dip into an elbow to sneeze before he made it back to the kitchen. He cringed; poor guy. This was all his fault.

“Reed?”

The writer who’d spoken to him waved a hand in front of his face to snap him out of his stupor. Reed pulled his head back to the table and smiled. “Really incredible,” he said. “I mean, this guy has talent.”

“For sure,” the other writer said. “I mean, he’s been hoping for a Beard nod for years.”

“Yeah?” Reed asked, hungry for any bit of lore he could get about Greyson. The other writer dug into his lamb as he nodded.

“About five years,” he said. “The menu is deemed as one of the best in the city, and he changes it every single day. I mean, the guy’s an animal.”

Reed nodded slowly. He could only imagine how hard Greyson had worked, how nervous he was, especially with Reed's stupid ass sitting here to judge him. Especially when Greyson was sick as a dog.

“That he is,” Reed said, and he took another incredible bite.

Course Four

Rutabaga Tart

fennel | feta | cured egg yolk

“Matt can put these on the plates, Chef,” Elijah said, putting a hand on Greyson’s back. “Take a quick break before you have to talk to them again. Drink some water. Blow your nose.”

Greyson shook his head, pushed the flop sweat off his forehead. “This is mby shot. These are mby plates,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “I’mb here until the end.”

Elijah pressed his lips together and flashed Matt a look. The sous chef just raised his eyebrows and gave a little shrug. Once Greyson was like this… well, there was certainly no arguing with him.

“Okay,” Elijah said. “I’ll make you some tea, then.”

“Thank you, Lij,” Greyson managed, before ducking under the pass to sneeze into the collar of his chef’s coat. “God, fuck, I’mb gonna have to throw this thing away after this.”

“More like burn it,” Matt countered, prompting the first laugh from Greyson all evening.

“Burn it is right,” Greyson said. “HHITSZHH-ue!”

Course Five

Striploin

deconstructed bearnaise | white asparagus | duxelle

The fifth course was placed in front of them, and the writers looked up expectantly at Greyson.

“Forgive mbe,” Greyson said, his voice strained to a whisper. “I’ve yelled mbyself out in the kitchen, so mby number-two will introduce your last two courses.”

The writers tutted or laughed and looked over towards the sous chef – everyone except Reed. Reed was staring at Greyson, hoping he could hear his thoughts. I’m sorry you’re sick. I’m sorry I’m here. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

The sous finished the description and the writers began to eat once again. Reed was sure he could hear the younger chef say to Greyson, “Just one more, Chef,” as they walked back to the kitchen.

Reed sighed and took a bite of his steak. He closed his eyes; perfection.

He did not deserve to be here.

Course Six

Matcha Milk Bombe

coffee | pastry crumb

Greyson placed the final pastry onto the final plate and turned away to cough as the servers brought his final plate of food to the critics. He felt like he was attending his own funeral.

“I don’t think I can go out there again, Lij,” Greyson said, shaking his head and crouching down on the ground. “I can’t look at all of themb, I’ve embarrassed myself enough.”

“You haven’t embarrassed yourself at all, Grey,” Elijah promised, pushing Greyson’s sweaty hair out of his face. “But I understand if you’re too exhausted. I’ll go out for the last one, thank them all for being here.”

“Please,” Greyson said. Elijah nodded, stood, and left the kitchen to meet the writers, while Matt nodded towards the office.

“Go,” he said to his boss. “Sit. You did it.”

Greyson shook his head. “Gotta clean mbyself up first,” he said, standing and moving towards the kitchen doors. “I’mb using the damn guest bathroom, fuck those pretentious assholes.”

Matt laughed in earnest. “You’ve earned it for sure, Chef.”

Greyson slipped into the guest bathroom, hoping no one saw him, and locked himself in a stall. Finally, he sat down and let himself go.

“HITSHH-ue!” Greyson sneezed into the open, then quickly grabbed a handful of toilet paper to keep from becoming the restaurant’s biggest biohazard. “HTTSHH! IIITZSCHUE! Huh! Hh…. huh, huhhh… huhhETSZHHH-ue! Huh! HRRRSHHH! Fuuuck mbe.” Greyson blew his nose, beyond exhaustion. He felt like shit. He knew he looked like shit. He’d put out shit food, he’d been in a shit mood… this whole thing was just… shit.

Finally, feeling a little more cleared out, Greyson flushed the toilet paper and unlocked the stall. When he exited, he nearly jumped out of his skin. There, in the doorway, was his fling - Reed.

“Jesus,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his chest. “Give a guy a fuckin’ heart attack.”

Reed shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, then let Greyson by to wash his hands. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to scare you. Bless you. By the way.”

Greyson huffed out a laugh. “Thangks,” he said, drying his hands. “Sombe cold you’re passing around town. Shouldn’t you be finishing your meal? Or was it so bad you’re here to hock it back up?”

“It was incredible,” Reed said earnestly. “Truly, Greyson. Thank you. I… I’m sorry. For being here, for getting you sick, I – I didn’t know that this place was… um… yours.”

“Mmm, more Elijah’s than mbine,” Greyson mumbled, looking away from Reed’s face. “But, uh… thank you. Glad you enjoyed. Hopefully it's ndot for nothing.”

"I don't think it will be. They all had nothing but good things to say. I'm just the grunt, but I mean...you have my vote. You're... You're incredible," Reed said, the words escaping his mouth before he could even consider what he was saying.

Greyson tried to hide a small smile by looking down. They both stood awkwardly until Greyson cleared his throat. “I, uh… better get back to mby guys,” he said, starting towards the door.

“I had an amazing time the other night,” Reed blurted out suddenly. “I, um… I haven’t stopped thinking about it, actually.”

Greyson smirked, the tension finally broken. “Yeah?” he asked. Reed nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “You’re… you’re hard to shake.”

Greyson took a step closer to Reed, looking him in the eye now. He sniffled, rubbed his nose, and crossed his arms, a smile dancing on his lips. “Who are you, Reed Parker?” he asked. Reed’s face flushed bright red.

“I – I don’t know what you mean. I’m a food writer.”

“Mmm,” Greyson nodded. “Well, Reed the food writer who can’t get mbe out of his mind, at the moment I’m a bit, uh… incapacitated. But,” Greyson pulled a Sharpie out of his coat’s side pocket and grabbed Reed’s hand, “if I’m still rattling around in your brain in a few days… give mbe a call.” Greyson coughed into his shoulder, capped the Sharpie, and gave Reed a little smile.

“I will,” Reed said, biting his cheek. “Thank you. For, um… dinner.”

Greyson paused, thinking, then took a bold step towards Reed, grabbed his chin in his hand, and planted a deep kiss on his lips. “It was my pleasure,” he said, and stepped out of the room.

Reed stood, flushed and breathless, for a moment. The kiss sat, swelling his lips, sweeter than any dessert he’d ever had; he looked at the number on his hand, felt his heart catch in his throat.

Greyson Abbott, he thought, looking towards the bathroom door. Holy shit.

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snzblr #snez #male cold #male snz #ooo we have a new character hope you guys are into him bc i have ideas lol #im not a huge fan of the first part of this story but i really like the ending. whatever its fine #we're going with it. idk. i want to post it ive been looking at it for 8 hours so into the ether it goes #happy to be back :)

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reputationmunson · 2 years ago

Text

In This Together | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: The beginning of your journey through parenthood with Eddie

Content: pregnancy fic (reader finds out she’s pregnant), mentions of nausea and throwing up, fluff, use of y/n

Word Count: 1.9K

a/n: so this is the first part “series” and if you have any requests/things you would like to read for this please let me know and i will be more than happy to oblige!

For the past week, life has been throwing you punches left and right.

On your way home from work one night, your car decided that in the middle of a thunderstorm would be the perfect time to break down. Luckily, your mechanic husband came to the rescue. Unluckily, he ordered chinese takeout for dinner to cheer you up, which led to you getting food poisoning.

You’ve had to call off of work for the past five days due to being ill. Somehow, Eddie must’ve skipped on the side dish of foodborne illness because he never ended up getting sick.

Eddie has been picking up a few extra shifts this week because you were so stressed about missing work and the effect that would have on your paycheck. Honestly, money hasn’t been much of an issue lately, but he insisted on working so his chance for a promotion would increase.

You’ve been an emotional wreck without him lately. Every time he leaves you feel like he’s going off to war and you have no idea when he’ll return. He thinks it’s adorable while you think you’re going insane. Sometimes throughout the day you’ll spray his cologne, even though the scent has been making you a bit queasy for some reason.

You haven’t been able to keep any food down, so you decided to give your mom a call and ask for her special soup recipe. She always made it when a friend or family member was sick and you swear it has healing powers.

“Hi, mom. it’s me” you say, voice hoarse from all the throwing up.

“Hi, sweetie. you sound awful, is everything okay?”

Tears immediately fill your eyes when she asks. Your period must be coming soon because your emotions have been all over the place.

“Not really. I’ve had food poisoning and I can’t keep anything down, so I just wanted the recipe for your soup”

“Oh, honey. Is Eddie there to make it for you?”

“N-no. he’s working like all the time recently because he’s up for a promotion and I just miss him so much that I think I'm losing my mind and I'm also starving but the thought of eating anything makes me want to puke '' you sob.

“y/n, are you pregnant?”

“what? no i’m not preg-” your voice drifts as realization hits you. You missed your period last month, but chalked it up to stress and this month is halfway over and you still haven’t gotten it.

“y/n? are you there?”

“y-yeah i’m here. I just, um, I think I need to sit down.”

“I’m coming over, honey. don’t worry everything will be okay”

In shock, you hang up the phone without saying another word. Could you really be pregnant? I mean, let’s be honest you and Eddie go at it like rabbits, so it shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is.

You and Eddie have discussed having kids on many occasions, but you both agreed to wait until the time was right. You wanted to move into a bigger house, nothing too fancy that you’d be paying off for the rest of your lives, but one big enough for your little rascals to run around. All you ever both wanted was a house filled with love and laughter, no matter how big or small.

After anxiously sitting in silence, your mom walks through the door with handfuls of grocery bags and she looks just about as frazzled as you do.

“yep. you’re pregnant.” is the first thing she says and you groan. “how do you know? Are you secretly psychic or something?”

“all mothers are psychic, you’ll find that out very soon. So, I bought all the fixins for my soup, three pregnancy tests, and a gallon of water. Drink up, i’ll start cooking”

You pour yourself a glass of water and chug until there isn’t a drop left in the cup.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna be a grandma! Between Eddie’s hair and your eyes, this baby is going to be beautiful.”

“Alright, I’ll go take the tests but please don’t get your hopes up”

In reality, you had your hopes up too. The thought of having a baby that was a mix of you and Eddie was the most amazing thing you could ever think of. You hoped they’d have his eyes, which if your kid is anything like their dad, they will use those big, brown eyes against you.

Maybe this hypothetical baby will even have a passion for music and Eddie can teach them how to play guitar. You can see it now. Your baby wouldn’t even be a year old before Eddie tried to form a family band.

“Don’t look at the first test until you take the other two!” your mother shouts as you disappear into the bathroom.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself after you're done and the anticipation is killing you. This plastic stick is holding the answer to your future and you still had two more to take before you could find out.

Almost a gallon of water and three pregnancy tests later, the pink sticks lay face down on the bathroom sink counter.

“Will you look for me? I can’t do it”

“Let’s do it together, okay? This is a wonderful experience” your mom squeezes your hand and you try to gather yourself.

On the count of three, you each pick one up and you gasp when you turn it around.

Two pink lines

Two. Pink. Lines

“It’s positive!” you shriek, anxiety replaced with glee. “Are they all positive?” you scan over all three and they show the same result.

You start to cry again, but this time it’s happy tears. Like the tears you cried when Eddie told you he loved you for the first time, then again when he got down on one knee, and also when he vowed to love you for the rest of his life no matter what, a promise he’s yet to break and you are confident he never will.

Your mom also begins to cry tears of joy while giving a hug. She was right, this is a wonderful experience.

When the thought crossed your mind during the phone call earlier, you were horrified. Now, you realize there’s nothing to be scared of. You’re having a baby with the man you love more than anything.

“When are you going to tell him? I don’t know how long I can keep this in!” she exclaims

“I’m telling him tonight I don’t think I can wait longer than that. But, please don’t say anything to anyone until we’re ready”

“I won’t. Now, tell me how you’re gonna tell him!”

Once your mom left, you decided to make yourself more presentable and set up a nice dinner for when Eddie got home. He would be home any minute and you were oozing with excitement.

The table was set, soup was on the stove, and you had put the tests in a gift bag with some tissue paper.

You had no worries about Eddie reacting badly to this news and not only did that soothe your nerves, it also reaffirmed that being with him was the best decision you ever made.

You hear his vehicle pull into the driveway and you scurry over to the door, ready to greet him the second he walks in.

“Eddie!” you squeal, throwing your arms around his neck right when he comes inside. “hey, baby” he arms wrap around your waist and pulls you into him. “How are you feeling?” he pulls back slightly to put his hand on your forehead to check if you have a temperature.

“So much better now that you’re home” you nuzzle into him and bask in the feeling of his presence. “Sweetheart, you didn’t have to make dinner. you’re sick” he pouts and you can’t resist the urge to kiss him. He tastes like spearmint gum with a hint of the chapstick you force him to wear because his lips are too pretty to be chapped.

“My mom came over and made it, actually. she says hi, by the way” you lead him over to the couch and sit down. “Her special soup? fuck yeah” he says and you giggle at the enthusiasm.

“So, I was gonna wait until dinner but I have a present for you” you say, giddily. “A present for lil ol’ me? oh you didn’t have to, darlin’” he says in a fake southern accent. “Stay here, you goof”

You return to the living room, gift bag in hand and a big smile on your face. Eddie hasn’t seen your smile much since you got “food poisoning” and it’s the best present he can think of. For now, at least.

“Don’t just stare at me! Open it!” you excitedly demand as you stand in front of him where he’s sat on the couch.

“you’re just so goddamn pretty. i missed that smile” fuck, you love him so much. If you weren’t so nauseous and in anticipation for him to find out you're pregnant you’d take him to the bedroom and show him just how much you appreciate him.

“Eddie, I love you, but if you don’t open it right now I’ll make sure to never smile again” you threaten and try not to smile, but you can’t help it. After all these years, you still feel the same way you did on your first date with him. Absolutely lovesick.

“Jeez, no need for threats, Mrs. Munson” he teases and you playfully roll your eyes.

He tears through the tissue paper like it’s christmas morning and stops in his tracks once he looks in the bag.

“Is this?” He pulls out each test and stares intently at each one. “Are you?” He looks up at you with wide eyes and apparently he’s lost the ability to form a sentence. “yeah. we’re having a baby” and here come the waterworks again. Damn hormones.

His hand rests on your stomach and you cover his hand with your own. “Are you okay with that?” you whisper and he stands up, hand still on your belly. “I’m - fuck- I thought I’d be scared shitless when this day came, but I’m not. Are you okay with this?”

“I’m a little scared when I think of things like how we’re gonna have to move eventually and ya know, the whole childbirth part that’s probably gonna rip me to shreds, but I’m happy. Really happy”

“Me too and I think I’m gonna get that promotion to manager, which comes with a huge raise. We’ve been saving up for this since we got married, babe. We’re gonna be fine, okay?”

“I’m gonna get huge” you whine and he chuckles then presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I know. think about how big your tits are gonna get” he jokes. “Eddie! this is supposed to be sentimental!” you chide with a laugh. “But, seriously. Are you still gonna love me when I'm all swollen and grumpy? or when I make you get me ice cream at two in the morning?”

“First of all, you already make me get you ice cream at two in the morning. Second, you’re carrying our baby. If anything, I'm going to love you even more” he promises and pulls you into a loving hug.

“Is it okay that I’m somewhat terrified?” you ask, words a little muffled from your face being buried in his chest.

“I am too, but we’re in this together, yeah?” he assures you.

“yeah. together”

my baby fever has been through the roof lately i can’t wait to write more of these :)))

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie x mom!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #stranger things fic

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yesbutmakeitgay · 6 months ago

Text

Once Upon A Time I Used To Know A Girl

Chapter 15

Carol Danvers x Reader

Masterlist | This work's masterlist | AO3

Summary: It's your first day back at training.

Angst, Slow Burn, Amnesia.

Word count: 656

I Hope You Leave A Scar

A few days later you're feeling much better and decide to go down to the gym for a little work out hoping to find a partner to train with, as you refuse to ask Kamala for fear of hurting her, or fear of her swiftly kicking your ass. You put on some of your old clothes for the first time and begin to feel more like yourself.

When you arrive you find the place to be completely empty, you're about to relent and get to work on a punching bag when you hear someone walk in, "Need a partner?" says a soft, captivating voice, you turn around slowly to look at its owner, putting your guard up immediately.

"You're not seriously suggesting I train with you," you scowl.

"Come on, you hate that thing." Carol points at the bag.

"I don't hate it, it's fine," you try to lie.

"It will never get close to the real thing," she responds, quoting your exact thoughts. You walk towards her carefully, looking her in the eye.

"No powers, two out of three falls, do not try anything funny."

"Deal." There's a slight smirk on her face.

It only takes her 30 seconds to take you down the first time, you chug it up to being cold still, you get up and go again. This time you manage to get a hit in first, one punch to the abdomen and a kick on the shin to take her down.

You're clearly reaching the end of your stamina, having been through major surgery and no training for the past months, Carol notices and starts discreetly letting down to make the moment last longer, you feel like she knows your every move before you even think about it, it's almost like a dance you learned a long time ago and can no longer remember, but your body can follow it perfectly.

You start to get too in your head and she takes the opportunity to flip you over and land you on your back, your hoodie flying off in the process. She straddles your waist to keep you pinned down, both of you pant heavily. She stares at your face for a moment too long, your brain is urging you to push her off, but your heart hasn't felt so at ease since you woke up from the ambush, so you let her be.

Her gaze turns to horror when she goes from your eyes to your arms, finding all the bruises and burns that adorn them, "Did I do this?" she whispers as she traces them down ever so gently, you remain silent, "I’m so sorry, angel."

As she's tracing your arms up again she follows all the way to your neck, finding a big, nasty scar there, she doesn't dare touch it, "Did I do this, too?" Her voice is shaky.

"Depends how you look at it," you murmur.

"It's from the ambush," she states, you can only look at her shyly, "what did they do to you?" There is fear and concern in her words.

"No worse than what you did to me." You finally find it in yourself to get her off of you, get up, and leave.

You go back to your room to take a shower, when you get out you find Kamala lounging on your bed, "You look worse than when I left you," she teases.

"Thought I'd check out the gym."

She eyes you skeptically, "That doesn't look like the work of a punching bag."

"Your Captain thought it would be a good bonding activity. She kicked my ass, again," you explain humorlessly and join Kamala on the bed. “She called me 'Angel,’ is that my codename?"

She snorts, "It's your pet name."

"What do you mean?" You look at her with confusion.

"If you have to ask, you don't get it," she sasses you, knowing it's not her place to explain further.

Chapter 16

Kamala spending all her time in R's room is just my favorite.

Tags: @graniairish @carols-photonblast @thelittleliars @unicorniusfallapatorius @prplepeony @eringranola

Let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

#carol danvers fic #carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel #carol danvers angst #captain marvel x reader #kamala kahn #valkyrie

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scoops-aboy86 · 6 months ago

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♠️♥️ once again! It's Halloween time and for the past month Steve has been chauffeuring the kids around for whatever they wanted (all with attitude of course) and he can't help the annoyance he feels dealing with them, especially Mike. Sometimes he and Eddie get together and talk about what little shits they are, and Halloween night the two get the idea to get a little revenge. All in good fun of course. They all gather at Steve's house and the two make the plan to get the kids (teens now wow) to leave their candy with him while Eddie distracts them and to basically fool them by making them think he ate it all. Of course he has backup candy bags (the good stuff; full size candy bars), but now he has to figure out where to dump their actual candy. He can't hide it because that's too obvious and he technically has to pretend to have eaten it all so Steve concludes to actually just eat it (a horrible idea really, but this was a last minute prank and the joint he smoked an hour ago doesn't help either).

With Eddie and the kids gone he gets started: flicks on a scary movie and settles into the couch, all six candy bags nestled by his side. Chocolates and gummies, licorice and skittles, little bags of treats slowly popped into his mouth. One after the other, Steve methodically unwrapping, chewing, and swallowing. After awhile the taste gets a little old so he cracks open a coke. He's halfway through the third bag when his stomach cramps, gurgling loudly from all the sugar and fizz. He shimmies a bit before unbuttoning his pants and continuing with the plan, telling himself it's all for the sake of revenge.

And again, he keeps going, lost in his own gluttony as he tries to pick up the pace before they get back. He's finally down to the last bag when he hears the van pull into the drive way and he bolts up, bloated gut groaning and sloshing. With clumsy hands he grabs the bags and bolts up to his room, locking the door, hiding the evidence and determined to finish the sixth bag. He can hear them in the living room and he's barely chewing as he shoves the candy down his throat, chugging coke to wash it all down.

With one last gulp, he's done it! But with it gone, and his gut too loud to ignore, he catches sight of himself in the mirror and he's positively potbellied. Unbuttoned jeans tight where his gut lays, his polo shirt having ridden up from where it once covered his deep set belly button, lips smeared with chocolate. He couldn't suck in if he tried 🙊 happy halloween!

Oh my god this is so funny, and my first thought is MIKE what did you DO? But it would have to be all of them, for him to target all their candy bags. (Not Erica’s, though. She’d legit slash his tires, and Eddie’s too for aiding and abetting.) But nothing genuinely hurtful, six parts because I like fluff and half a dozen because that would make this a pretty lame revenge.

Oh! Oh I know… Added some cool (read: kinda nerdy) homemade Halloween costumes, because Eddie can sew and Steve’s is pretty easy, so it’s a little different from what you laid out. 5608 words! Thank you for the prompt, pal, this was a fun one.

🔞

Always one thing after another with these goddamn kids, Steve swears. Sure, it’s not uncovering deadly monsters and government plots anymore… but they’re teenagers now, so it’s still always something.

Today it’s wax fruit, a fake Oreo, and a plastic pickle snuck into his sandwich (that he had made, how the fuck…?) that looks like Mike must’ve stolen from one of Holly’s old play sets.

And now, to top it all off, Dustin pretended to hurl and got him with fake vomit.

It’s a rough April Fool’s day.

But like, at least they aren’t actively making fun of him for the weight he’s gained since the Upside Down ordeals had ended for good. Everyone laughs just as hard when Mike gets Will with a wax apple, and that kid is still a string bean.

“Mike needs to branch out from pranking people he has a crush on,” Eddie mutters darkly later that night, when it’s just the big kids having some good old-fashioned off duty babysitters time around the pool.

Steve, confused, is about to ask what he means from behind his (fake pickle free) sandwich, but Robin coughs on a mouthful of beer so instead he has to pound on her back until some of it comes out her nose.

“Jesus Steve, did you have to thump so hard?!”

“I thought you were choking!!”

Robin sticks out her tongue and pushes him into the pool, and in his flailing attempts to avoid his fate Steve manages to snag Eddie and drag him in with him.

Then Nancy sputters “Steve, again?” while laughing so hard that she can barely breathe. It reminds Steve of how he’d dragged her into the pool on purpose the first night they’d—

Steve’s cheeks flame immediately. He’s only actually told Robin how he feels (thinks he feels? is starting to feel?) about Eddie, but Nancy is smart and she knows him, he’s not shocked that she’s noticed. So he has to splash both her and Robin, obviously, before they give away anything.

Unfortunately, Eddie takes the opportunity to latch onto him like a barnacle and pull him over, so Steve misses and douses Argyle instead, and—

—Steve still remembers, come October. He wants to get them back, but to do that successfully he’s going to need backup. Tough, with both Robin and Nancy off at college and Jon and Argyle back in California, but not impossible.

He swallows down his nerves and asks Eddie. No big deal, they hang out together practically every day these days. Practically best friends. Except… Steve hasn’t exactly told him the reason he doesn’t take girls out on dates anymore.

“A revenge prank, you say,” Eddie murmurs, hands in front of his mouth and fingertips drumming together in intrigue. He’s sprawled in one of Steve’s kitchen chairs with one leg over a wooden arm like no one ever taught him how to sit like a human. It should be ungodly uncomfortable, but the dude looks perfectly at ease. Weirdo, Steve thinks affectionately. “I like it. Do you have anything in mind, or are we brainstorming?”

“Brainstorming,” Steve confirms, and they relocate to the living room and get to smoking about it over bowls of the spaghetti bolognese he just finished making.

Eddie’s condition for helping is that they plan matching Halloween costumes, and since they both know the boys are pulling their old props out of closets and attics to suit up as the Ghostbusters again, it’s not difficult to decide on a theme.

“No no no, we can’t be the Gatekeeper and the Keymaster,” Steve protests with a laugh, waving his hand through the smoke in the air. Since he’s currently holding the joint, the motion paints all new swirling shapes before them.

“Why not?” Eddie squawks, and steals the joint back before it can ash anywhere unfortunate.

“Because you have the hair to play Sigourney Weaver, but I could never pass for Rick Moranis. It totally wouldn’t work, man.”

“Dude, work with me here! What else are we going to be, Gozer and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man?”

“I…” Steve pauses. He’s seen Ghostbusters, and remembers the Gozer the Gozarian costume from the end of the movie. Can he turn down an opportunity to see Eddie in a nude body stocking and heels? “… Yeah, okay.”

Apparently not. Can he survive it? Remains to be seen, but he’ll find out eventually.

“Wait, really?” A disbelieving grin spreads across Eddie’s face, making both dimples pop. “You’d put on the little hat, sailor’s collar, and neckerchief for me, Stevie?”

And it’s not that Steve didn’t register the other half of the deal, but he doesn’t really mind. High as he is at the moment, his hand drifts to the belly he’s put on since high school—the munchies keep hitting him in waves and he’s already finished most of the would-be leftovers from the pot in the kitchen, so he’s a little bloated right now. He giggles and gives himself a pat. “I mean, why not? I’m in shape for it, aren’t I?”

The pat knocks loose a burp that sneaks up and out of his mouth as soon as he’s finished talking, but Eddie laughs so brightly that Steve forgets to be embarrassed.

“I’ve got it,” Eddie gasps once he’s pulled himself together again. “Steve. Steve, you could be the one hundred foot marshmallow man summoned to destroy… their Halloween candy.”

“Destroy it?”

“Yes! It’ll be your revenge for all that fake food! I can be a distraction, while you confiscate all their hard-earned, tooth-rotting treats. They come back—oh no, they’ll weep!”

“Weep?” Steve snorts. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“They’ll weep, Who stole our candy? Who could have done such a thing? With much gnashing of teeth. And you make your appearance, maybe smear some chocolate sauce around your mouth to really sell it, and say, That’s what you get for all that wax fruit.”

“I guess I could do that,” Steve says slowly. When Eddie offers him the joint again he accepts, taking a hit absently as he mulls it over. “Kinda mean though, stealing their candy. Waking all over the place to get that stuff is a lot of work.”

Eddie shrugs. “Get ‘em candy from the store. The full-size bars and shit. Then once they’ve learned their lesson, they can have that; everything’ll be fine and you get your own trick-and-treat stash. Oh—” he flails with excitement at another idea, and Steve can’t help the way it stirs butterflies in his already full stomach to see all that enthusiasm on his behalf—“but before you do, if Dustin gives you shit, you gotta say something like, What, are you so sad you could puke, Dusty-buns? That’ll show him.”

It makes Steve laugh, a warm feeling growing in his chest to know that they’re good enough friends for Eddie to come up with zany schemes on his behalf. He already knows he’ll go through with it, if Eddie is serious.

Several weeks later it’s Halloween, and the plan is set. Everyone (minus Erica, who’s trick-or-treating with friends her own age instead) is coming over after making their rounds through the neighborhoods, and Eddie will take them all to the haunted corn maze at one of the local farms. Steve, meanwhile, will hide their candy and pretend to have eaten it by the time they return.

It’s a great plan. Eddie comes over around sundown to do some pre-celebrating in the form of hotboxing Steve’s bedroom before all the kids in Hawkins start ringing the doorbell at any house with a front light on.

And Steve feels like he’s been hit between the eyes with a brick when he opens the door to Eddie’s knocking, because wow.

That is Eddie. With his hair up. Wearing a nude bodysuit covered in plastic baubles and white feathers. When he blinks, his eyelids are dark red with eyeshadow, just like Gozer’s eyes in the damn movie. And all Steve did was fish out a few elements of his old Scoops uniform—not the one he’d been interrogated by Russians in, he and Robin had burned both of those outfits after Starcourt—and put them on over a white sweater and white pants.

Eddie leaps across the threshold, strutting around in… oh god, he is wearing heels. Steve has to look up slightly to meet his gaze, and it makes him want to lean in even more than he usually always lowkey does.

“Gozer the Gozerian,” Eddie howls, baring his teeth in a feral grin as he continues to announce, “Gozer the Destructor, Volguus Zildrohar, the Traveller has come!” He jabs a finger towards Steve demandingly. “Choose, and perish!”

Somehow, Steve manages to keep his composure—maybe from all the practice he’s had. He puts his hands on his hips and raises his eyebrows. “I thought I’m the one destroying stuff tonight. Isn’t that the Marshmallow Man’s whole job?”

“Aw, Stevie,” Eddie starts, looking him up and down and… getting distracted for some reason.

Steve glances down at himself, worried that maybe he’s gotten something about his sweater, but no. And he can’t see anything on his pants either, unless it’s just under where his belly pooches out over the top of his pants and makes it hard to see—he’s made his peace with that, but it makes him nervous now. “So, uh, are we gonna smoke or what, man? Do you even have pockets in that, um… outfit?”

Whatever it was that had snagged Eddie’s attention, he shakes himself out of it to shoot Steve an exaggeratedly put-upon pout. “Sir Stay Puft, you dare question a god? Of course I have pockets.” He reaches towards where the over-layer of fluffy decoration is thickest winding up his torso—the left side, where Steve knows his scars are also the most prominent, even after a year and a half. Turns out there’s a cleverly hidden zipper pouch beneath it, and Eddie produces two roll-ups and a zippo with a cheeky grin.

So they’re definitely both decently stoned by the time the kids come by. The four original Party members are in their Ghostbuster suits, as expected: Will as Winston, Dustin as Egon, Lucas as Ray, and Mike as Venkman. El has her short but growing out hair curled and a guitar case slung across her back (presumably because no one had seen fit to let the kids borrow a cello, which was for the best). Max, in her wheelchair, is green from head to waist and styled to look like Slimer on top of the hotel maid cart from the movie.

“Oh shit,” she crows when she registers Steve and Eddie’s costumes. “Okay, you nerds are definitely outnumbered in terms of ghost power now. Looks like I chose the right side.”

The three of them exchange high fives, before Steve insists on getting pictures. “You know your mom will love it,” he says pointedly to Dustin. “And since she cooks me dinner more often than any of you—”

“I cook for you sometimes,” Eddie pipes up. Which is true. But mentioning Mrs. Henderson’s cooking has already reminded Steve’s high brain that he hasn’t eaten much since Eddie arrived, not wanting to get spills or crumbs on his glaringly white outfit, so Steve just waves him off, distracted. He feels his stomach give a quiet little grumble.

“Yeah yeah, I know you do. I’m talking to the twerps.”

“We’re not—”

“Anyway,” Steve says loudly over Mike, clapping both hands together, “come on people, pictures! Everybody! Let’s go!”

They manage to get a few shots of the entire group using the timer feature on Steve’s parents’ fancy camera (that they’ve never used). He has no idea if any of them will be any good from the way he can hear Eddie muttering encouragement for everyone to strike weird poses right before the flash goes off, but at least they’ll be funny. Poses are much more encouraged for the rest of the photos, featuring the Ghostbusters battling their different ghostly opponents. El seems a little annoyed that she doesn’t have anything in particular to do, and thankfully no one suggests that she try to act out Dana possessed by Zuul—that’d be a little too close to home.

So the last couple shots are of El fending off all three ghosts with her ‘cello’ case, delightedly shouting “Get away from her, you bitch,” no matter how many times the boys try to explain that yes that was Sigourney Weaver, but in a different movie.

And then—

“Okay,” Eddie says loudly, clapping his hands and winking unsubtly at Steve, “who’s up for the haunted corn maze? Gozer is granting you lame little mortals a ride too and from, otherwise my associate Mr. Stay Puft here will be free to step on you with impunity—”

Ten chaotic minutes later, Steve is alone in a house full of candy and an empty stomach. He rubs absently at it while dumping all the kids’ candy bags out on the kitchen island counter. As he goes, he makes backup bags to send them home with—plain brown paper, the same ones he always used to take his lunches to school in—and matches every fun-sized bar he dumps out with a full-sized bar he drops in.

If he hesitates on a few of his favorite kinds of candy, no one has to know. Mostly, though, his thoughts are a mix of Claudia Henderson’s lasagna and wishing he were at the haunted corn maze with Eddie. He’s taken dates to the haunted maze before, it’s not that hard to find a dark corner where no one would realize it’s a guy he’s trying to woo, especially with the form-fitting Gozer costume thrown into the mix… But, well, they’ve spent a decent amount of extra time together while plotting this—read: getting high and congratulating each other on being so devious and smart—and that will have to do for now.

When alternate bags are all done, he grabs a Coke from the fridge and slurps at it while sorting the remaining candy into different bowls: one for just chocolate, one for nuts, one for nuggat, one for toffee, one for sour, and one for the rest. And then… he takes them all out to the living room couch, along with a new six-pack of Cokes. Fully aware of what he’s doing, but still floaty enough from the weed that he’s not really sure when he made the decision.

The plan was to stash the stolen candy and share it with Eddie later, but he’s hungry. Probably won’t finish it all, anyway. There will still be some—and even if there’s not, he can always buy more. Doesn’t care right now, he’s hungry. He hasn’t eaten since, like… lunch.

And, fine, yes, his weight has really gotten away from him, especially lately. He’s spent all summer whenever he wasn’t working lounging by the pool in his backyard, working on his annual tan while completely unbothered by danger beyond forgetting to apply enough sunscreen. Relaxing. Snacking. Drinking, sometimes beer but most commonly pop. He gets to do this now, he’s earned it, and he’s really enjoying himself.

Steve settles himself amongst the candy bowls with a VHS in the player and a hand on his belly. It’s so soft and squishy, he usually ends up touching it one way or another these days; now, he feels all over the way it spills into his lap a little, kneading at it like a stress ball. With his other hand, he reaches for a Snickers bar and melts into the couch as it hits his tongue.

Most of the trick-or-treat candy is small for each one to fit in his mouth in one go, and anything larger is a challenge that he meets with happy enthusiasm.

After that initial bite, he starts with his least favorites, wolfing them down to get it over with and washing each mouthful down quickly with a Coke chaser. When he gets to the stuff he likes okay he lets himself slow down, still going at a steady pace but allowing himself to really taste and only popping a new Coke can as a palate cleanser when his mouth feels thick with chocolate and other layers of sweetness.

He’s no longer hungry at this point, but he’s not full, either. Maybe a little pinched though, so he sucks his fingers clean, shifts around a bit and leans until he can get at his waistband, and unbuttons his pants with a sigh. Stroking the red lines of his tummy as he reaches for a Three Musketeers, barely aware that it juts out a little more every time he frees it from his jeans these days.

This is where he pauses to revive the tail end of the second joint he and Eddie had started just before the kids came over, sinking into the high and further into the couch with a pumpkin-shaped bowl balanced on his soft chest. He pours the little packets of M&Ms and Skittles into his mouth at the same time, just to see how it tastes, and it’s weird but he doesn’t hate it. Does that with the rest of them to try and decide if he likes the combo, and whines a little (he’ll never admit it) when they run out before he can reach a conclusion. The pumpkin-shaped bowl is empty.

As Steve gets to his favorite candies (these in a regular white bowl, it matches his outfit) he picks up speed again. Somehow the movie is almost over, he’s hardly even watched it, and there’s only so much time left before Eddie’s van rumbles up into his driveaway again. He’s unwrapping the next two candies while still chewing, barely taking breaths between bites, trying to hurry and relishing every second of his impromptu and very unhealthy feast.

He’s so enraptured with the unending parade of sweetness on his tongue, the constant chewing and swallowing and chewing and swallowing, that he almost misses the telltale sounds outside. (The movie is over, nothing of interest showing on the TV screen, when did that happen?) Frantic, he sweeps as many wrappers as he can out of his lap before going to stand up. It takes him a few tries, he’s so sunken into his spot, and when he finally manages it, red-faced and puffing and buzzing with adrenaline and sugar rush and the remaining high, he has to put a hand under his full, heavy belly in order to move around comfortably. Not quite cramping, not quite stuffed, just… a really satisfying stretch.

But guess who doesn’t have time to enjoy it! God, he fucking hates being rushed these days.

Eddie has a key. They’ll let themselves in, so all Steve has to do is get to his bedroom with the last of his stolen haul and two remaining Cokes from the six-pack. He gets there, barely, before he hears the front door swing open, hustling so fast up the stairs that the motion keeps jostling burps from between his chocolate-smeared lips. And then he’s in, sagging back against the closed door. Candy bowl clutched up by his chest and pops set on the floor nearby to get one open and bring it to his thirsty mouth.

Okay, so maybe his exercise regimen has gotten a little bit lax lately. Maybe all he usually does is walk between his bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, and his car. Maybe he still sweats just as much despite getting around a lot less, because it costs him more effort than it used to…

No time to think about that, Steve tells himself dazedly. He needs to finish. The last of the candy is already unwrapped; he pushes the empty wrappers aside and grabs a handful, undiscriminating as he crams it in his mouth. One mouthful, then a second with hardly time to swallow, breathing hard through his nose. The treats act as a natural gag for his whimpers, fullness finally catching up to him, squirming on his padded ass with a muffled groan as the sensation sends a bolt of lighting straight south. Another handful, that’s basically the last of it, and he washes it down by chugging desperately at his Coke. Finishes it, claps a hand over his mouth to contain an inevitable belch—luckily, it’s covered by the start of indignant shouting from the living room.

And he knows the scene he’s left. Trick-or-treat bags scattered haphazardly around the kitchen, empty. The living room couch littered with empty bowls and empty wrappers. Destruction at the hands (and mouth) of Mr. Stay Puft.

His jaw hurts, but there’s only a little bit left. Just a little more, and he finds that he wants it. Wants to finish the challenge… No, the prank, this is… to get the kids back… He feels so hazy between the pot and his overfull state, tipping the very last of the candy into his mouth and chewing with his mouth open, head tipped back against the door, exhausted. And then dutifully reaches for the last can of Coke, opens it, and pours that down his throat too. Breaks away from the lip of the can with a weak cry and another series of burps, even starting to hiccup which makes him whimper and clutch at himself, overheated and churning gut too loud to ignore and too tight in his skin, or maybe in his clothes, or both, he just—

“Steve?” Eddie calls through the door, sounding a little uncertain. “Karen just picked up half the kids and Joyce got the other half, I gave them all the replacement candy already. Are you… You good in there?”

“Eds,” he pants, groans, hiccups. “Je—hic—Jesus, I’m so.” He carefully lays both hands on either side of his distended belly in an attempt to soothe it. “I, I did it, I ate—urrrrrrp, fuck—ate all of it. Did it, Eddie. I’m so… Feel like I’m gonna explode…”

And he does, an overheated tingly sort of feeling washing through him in waves, his heartbeat pounding in his stomach and his ears and his dick. Not the first time it’s happened, the way he eats, but he’s gone all out tonight and the sensation of being ready to pop has seeped from his stomach to also encompass his hard-on. Part of him wants to keep going, but he doesn’t have anything else, couldn’t possibly fit any more down his throat, but he wants to do something. Needs it. Needs…

“Eddie,” he groans, “he—hic—elp me.”

He can feel Eddie trying the door, but with Steve’s weight leaning against it there’s no way it’ll open. “Uh, I’m trying, I can’t…”

Laboriously, Steve kind of… rolls himself to one side, enough to haul himself onto his knees. He has to pause there, and again when he drops down onto his hands, and again after he crawls forward the barest few inches. Eddie tries the door again and it swings right into the meat of Steve’s ass, slapping against the tight denim and making Steve cry out, making him wobble and sway with a fresh wave of arousal that he absolutely didn’t expect but can’t help reveling in. He wants to drop down right there, he’s so tired and achingly horny, but knows instinctively that he can’t land on his belly like that. So he soldiers through, digging deep just to finish crawling to one side and slump against the plaid wallpaper instead.

He breathes shallowly and waits for Eddie to come help him.

The first look Eddie gets of Steve makes his eyes damn near pop out of his skull. Steve looks positively pot-bellied, spilling over his unbuttoned, unzipped pants like that, his belly button half uncovered and deep. Couldn’t suck in if he tried. He has chocolate and traces of candy-coating color all over his face and smeared on his sweater from all the times he’d thought he’d sucked his fingers clean but not quite, rubbing whatever was still on them into the fluffy knit. Messy, telling smudges at the bottom hem where he’d absently tried to pull the shirt down throughout his binge. It didn’t work; there’s a chocolate-smudged lip of far more than a mere muffin top bulging out the bottom, resting on his thighs. Jesus H. Christ, it almost looks like he’s doubled in size since Eddie last saw him a few hours ago, was there really that much candy in the kids’ bags?!

Eddie’s shoe knocks against an empty can as he enters the room, sending it spinning, and he supposes that’s his answer. It must be the combined efforts of candy and carbonated syrup water that have Steve so bloated, fizzing away in there.

When he’d first walked in a few hours ago and seen Steve in costume, his breath had caught in his throat mid sentence. Super embarrassing, but what was he supposed to do? One minute they’d been talking about costumes, so stoned and loose-tongued that Eddie had suggested they be the goddamned Gatekeeper and Keymaster—characters that had canonically fucked, just left of onscreen! Next, it was weeks later (and he hadn’t actually blacked out all the time in between, it just felt that way for a second) and his current best friend and longtime crush opened the door in a tight sweater and pants that looked painted on, wearing a jaunty little hat atop his magnificent head of hair. The words well hello there sailor had lined up on his tongue like pirates ready to walk the plank. He’d had to think very hard about how many times he’d accidentally stabbed himself with a needle while sewing the ‘ghostly’ accents onto his costume, just to avoid popping a boner right there in Steve’s foyer.

There’s just so much of Steve these days. So round, and all of his clothes perpetually tight. And Eddie’s been jerking off to the thought of this happening ever since they came up with this plan, imagining how the siren call of all that candy might make Steve’s mouth water, get his stomach rumbling, make him think that it wouldn’t hurt to have just one then taking another and another and another, insatiable… He just hadn’t expected it to actually happen.

“Eddie,” Steve groans again, looking up at him with pleading, bloodshot eyes. “I’m so full, n-need your help.”

“What can I do?” He drops down into a crouch in front of him immediately. “I’m right here, Stevie. What do you need, sweetheart?”

Okay, he needs to cool it with the pet names. Luckily Steve is already pawing at himself, looking so blazed he might not have even heard. “M’too, m’too hot Eds. Gotta get this off, get… off…”

Jesus H. Christ.

So Eddie helps him out of the sailor collar and no longer pristine sweater. He tries not to stare but his eyes go wide when he realizes how much it was compressing. Steve groans in relief as it comes off and his entire upper half seems to puff out a little bit more, all covered in thick chest hair. Eddie wants to dig his fingers into it, into all of it, but he has to stay focused.

Next are the pants, which Steve whines for Eddie to do and then whines more as he’s forced to lift his heavy ass, rock back and forth as Eddie drags the unforgiving fabric down, huffing and puffing between hiccups and burps and mewls of discomfort. Eddie’s dick is about to burst off and start running laps around the room for fuck’s sake, his hands are shaking he wants to touch so badly. Soothe away the stomach ache, tell him how amazing he did, finishing all that candy. Murmur in his ear, ask if that makes the revenge so much sweeter…

To make matters worse, the jeans take Steve’s boxers with them, elastic in the waistband already stretched to the point of uselessness, and Eddie can see so much. Too much, for his composure, as Steve’s cock slaps up against the underside of his belly.

They both moan at that and Steve turns his head to look at Eddie full on with reddened eyes, tremors running through him that only give him more tantalizing friction against his hairy gut and prompt his hips to rock faster. He’s so blissed out that he doesn’t even break eye contact, just reaches blindly to grab Eddie’s hand and guides it down between his legs, rings and all, where he’s already slippery with precome and sweat and half sliding down the wall to help with holding his own belly out of the way.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, captivated by the desperate heat in Steve’s gaze. He strokes, reverent but quick. “Holy shit, holy shit Stevie…”

“Eddie,” Steve moans. His eyes roll back, his entire head going with them to thunk against the wall. “L-like that, fuuuck—hic—Oh god, keep, keep doing that, more, Eds, more, I—”

Eddie dives forward and shuts him up with a desperate kiss. He already knows that Steve is going to cause him to ruin this damn Gozer costume he worked so hard on—in the hopes of impressing Steve, actually. Which he must have done, from the way Steve kisses back like he wants to devour him, like even after all that candy Eddie is the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted and never wants to be without again.

Someone has definitely been impressed, and maybe Eddie will have to revisit the possibility of a god or something when he can think again because kissing Steve is heaven. Just… absolutely worth all the pining, even if it never happens again.

Then Steve goes almost completely slack, breaking the kiss with a wail as he comes in thick, pulsing ropes over Eddie’s fist. His only movements are his legs (thick, biteable, trembling so hard to either side of Eddie’s hips they fall only to jerk up in little spasms as his toes curl) and his mouth (plush lips bitten and messy, twisting into shapes of wordless ecstasy).

And Eddie has seen Steve relax, seen him indulge… seen him eat steadily through a large spread of snacks while lounging by the pool all summer in a Speedo with a sleepy, content look on his face, but this is the first time he’s really seen him let go. Lost in pure bliss.

He’s barely thinking when he brings his come-slick hand up, thumbing through the chocolate in the corner of Steve’s mouth before sinking the digit inside. Coming himself, the instant after Steve eagerly closes around it and sucks, licks, drools all over his hand to get it all. Shuddering harder when Steve grips weakly at his wrist and continues laving over each finger one by one, slow but thorough, eyes open and dazed but tracking Eddie’s face.

Until they’re both still, other than Steve letting out the occasional drowsy hiccup. Eddie’s fingers smooth over his parted lips, receiving faint kitten licks now and then as though Steve just can’t help himself. His other hand cradles the side of Steve’s bulging fullness, gentle against the duality of soft and immovable, in awe that he gets to touch. A part of him is still reeling that this happened at all, that he gets to see Steve so sated and sleepy and bare—except for one sock that’s managed to stay on his foot.

Jesus H. Christ. Steve’s naked and they’re in his bedroom and they didn’t even make it to the bed.

“Do you, um. Want to lay down?” Eddie whispers. He can feel his face growing hot from the lameness of that question… Steve is practically on his back where he is, enough that he might not be able to see his feet.

Steve nips at his pointer finger, blinking lazily with a little groan of contentment. “Does that mean I have to move,” he mumbles, but gamely begins to sit up. Eddie, from his crouch, shifts immediately to the side to help him, supports Steve’s back as he huffs his way towards semi-upright against the wall. “Urp—mm, thanks Eds.”

“No problem.” And Eddie doesn’t know why he’s whispering like he’s in a fucking library instead of kneeling in Steve Harrington’s bedroom with jizz sticky and cooling on the inside of his fucking body suit, but he doesn’t want to break whatever spell or dream that’s allowed this to happen. Wants to hold onto Steve a little bit longer, coaxing out little groans of contentment through belly rubs.

Steve gives Eddie the sweetest smile, sleepy and sated. “Felt so good. Still feels good. Did you…” A flicker of uncertainty crosses his face. “Was it good? Was I good?”

And Eddie just can’t let that doubt linger another second. “You were perfect, sweetheart,” he replies immediately, rubbing slow, soothing stripes along Steve’s side. “Fucking amazing. Move over, Mona Lisa, there’s a new masterpiece in town and his name is Steve Harrington.”

That earns him a laugh, cut off quickly when Steve clutches at his belly with a groan. “O-overdid it. Mm… ‘S fine, ‘s just… a lot.”

“Certainly looks like it.” He leans forward and presses a kiss just north of Steve’s belly button, can’t help cradling it with both hands and rubbing soothingly. “Let’s get you up, okay? Get you in bed.”

Soon enough Eddie has him cleaned up and tucked in.

“Stay?” Steve sighs, already more than half asleep.

So Eddie shucks his costume and climbs under the covers behind him, chuckling as Steve sluggishly reaches back and tugs Eddie’s arm over himself, demanding to be snuggled.

And that’s more or less how they wake up in the morning.

“Eddie,” Steve says through a yawn, subtly rubbing his naked ass back against Eddie’s naked front. There’s a teasing note in his voice as he continues, “I’m hungry.”

Secure now in the knowledge that this is neither a dream nor some kind of trick, it’s a morning treat that Eddie just can’t resist.

Permanent tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @tangerinesteve @sofadofax

#wg steddie #♠️♥️ anon #ask #chubby steve harrington #chaser eddie munson #the kids aren't pranking steve because of his weight #they're doing it because they enjoy dunking on steve in general like the hellions they are (affectionate)

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sterekchub · 1 year ago

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Jock Derek decides to get into the competitive eating game. Starts a YouTube channel. Gets some fans, who suggest crazy eating challenges. Derek keeps pushing himself to fulfill all the ridiculous challenges, but his stomach is so stretched out that he’s hungry all the time. Starts gaining weight. Slowly, his eating challenges videos just become mukbangs as Derek goes from jock to exjock to chub…and eventually Derek starts showing off his growing belly as he goes from chub to just huge fatty.

"W-Welcome ...*BBBRRRpp*... to Eatin' ...*blurrrRPPP*... w-with ...*BRRRPPpp*... Derek

10 Viewers "Hey...I'm Derek. I twisted my ankle during practice so the Coach benched me for the semester and if I don't play, I don't get money towards my tuition. So umm....I'm not sure how this works but my friend makes money gaming on his channel so I thought maybe....I'd start reviewing local restaurants or campus food or something."

You turn off the chat, disinterested. There's enough bad food ASMR and mukbangers online, he's attractive, but nothing special. You have better things to do than watch him fumble his way to unwrapping a Chipotle takeout bag like it was something special.

50 Viewers You find yourself back on Derek's channel a week later. He still looks uncomfortable in front of a camera. His room isn't even set up to stream, a bunch of random lights behind him and his dinner clearly on the desk next to him, 2 liter of soda and some Pop-Tart boxes. You're about to click away when the otherwise dead-chat pings:

Try the 2L soda challenge!

Derek nods and brings the soda bottle up to his lips. "Easy," he brags, suddenly much more confident and you get the aura of a cocky, self-assured jock. He chugs the entire bottle down within 2 minutes, waving the empty bottle in front of the screen and letting out a long burp. "Done. Damn, I need some pizza after that..."

He goes back to sitting there in mostly awkward silence as he scrolls on his phone, clearly ordering food. You leave the stream again. 200 Viewers You can't help it - you check back into Derek's stream. He's gained more followers in the last few weeks since you saw him and you see the last few videos he's posted all see to have a theme - Eating Challenges with Derek.

Looks like he's been eating well. There's more softness to his jaw and cheeks and the sports T-shirt he's wearing looks stretched a little tight.

"Tonight I'm trying the milk chugging challenge - one gallon in one hour."

The chat is more active than usual.

Got Oreos to go with that?

Derek holds up 3 boxes "not going to get through all that milk without them."

Gotta love jocks who eat like they're still training

if he pukes, I'm leaving

Bet he's done this before

Derek finishes 2 boxes of oreos and the entire gallon of milk, ending the stream reclining in his chair looking satisfied, hands rubbing his milk-swollen gut.

500 Viewers Derek has become your new favorite streamer. You're not sure if he knows the chat is entirely full of feeders egging him on, but he clearly loves the attention and is willing to do almost anything for donations.

"Thank you to *feedemup72* for the donation, tonight's challenge is $100 at Taco Bell." He points at several bags sitting next to him. "Actually $108 because I got 3 sodas, hope you don't mind."

Only his top half is visible as his streams, but in the last few months he's developed a curve to his belly that presses into his computer desk.

damn he's gotten fat in a few months

ii hope he does the donut challenge next

Derek slows down when he's three quarters of the way through. He shoves the last bite of a burrito into his mouth and groans. "Don't think I can do this one." He's got rice spilled onto the front of his shirt, and a few inches of bare, furry belly are visible where his bloated stomach is pushing his shirt upwards.

You're feeling reckless and type into the chat '$20 if you can finish 3 more burritos." You can see the determination as he leans forward to grab another from the pile, like it's the winning point his team needs. "Uggh I might burst..."

1000 Viewers "I'm getting a little chunky," Derek laughs, standing up in front of his computer with both hands lifting up his pudgy middle. It's not only his middle that has gotten thicker. His jeans look painted on and his shirt is so tight you can see the lovehandles just starting to poke out over his jeans. "Hope the coach doesn't mind. Got my clear bill of health for my leg so practice starts again tomorrow." are you still going to stream? Sure the coach won't mind you waddling on the field? forget sports, fatboy, you were made to eat! "This might be my last one in a while, practice keeps me busy. But for my last challenge- I got a cake to celebrate!" It's just a plain cheesecake, but Derek looks at it like it's better than sex. The little groans of pleasure he makes when he takes a bite somehow feel dirtier than watching him devour the entire thing in under 45 minutes. 3,000 Viewers It's been almost 6 months since Derek's last stream and you've almost forgotten about his channel entirely when you see he's gone live again. His follower count has almost triple and the chat is swarming with excitement at his return. OMG finally he's got to be 300 by now has he said anything no he's been eating for almost an hour! Think he knows he's live? Are you okay? You can't take your eyes off the screen. Derek has Chinese takeout containers in front of the screen and is digging into them like he hasn't eaten for months. The arms on his gamer chair are no longer visible under hefty love handles and his belly is fully resting into his lap by several inches. Derek keeps eating, double chin wobbling with each fast-paced bite, until he finally stops to reach for a can of soda. He drains it in one go and then looks at the chat, still shoveling food in his mouth as he talks "c-coach ...*mnfgghhhulp*... kicked ...*mmnnch*... me ...*chew... o-off ...*nibble*... de ...*gnaw*... team." I'm sorry too fat for the team? Look at him- he's not running anywhere! He hasn't stop eating What a fucking pig You have to know, typing in the chat. "$50 if you tell us what you're weighing in at." You watch as Derek scans the chat and reads your message. He finally puts down the food and stands up to show himself off to he chat. "Three-twenty-seven." From the size of his hips and ass as he turns, you would have guessed closer to 350. He looks upset, pinching and grabbing at the excess blubber that's thickened him up everywhere, but when he sits back down and grabs another soda, he almost looks relieved. "So.. guess I'm back to streaming. Any suggestions for another *gulp* *swallow* food challenge? 5,000 Viewers Doesn't look like a jock anymore he's a fucking blimp any ideas how to blow him up more bet he'd eat straight lard if we paid him fuck look at that gut Did he really just fall asleep? bet he wakes up and starts eating again You're $500 poorer- but looking at the size of Derek, it seems like money well spent. In the last three months, you've paid Derek to do the ice cream gallon challenge, the milkshake challenge, the donuts-burger challenge, and the carbo-load challenge. And you were also to blame for the current stream. Tonight had proven too much even for his monstrous appetite and he had needed a break, too full to even speak, just sitting in front of the computer groaning and grunting and burping, rubbing his boulder of a belly until his overstuffed moans had turned into tree-splitting levels of snoring. The last quarter of his fifth footlong cheesesteak (With extra cheese and meat of course), fell out of a pudgy hand and onto the floor. Derek had weighed in at 398 last night, and you impatiently wait for him to wake up rounding out the scales at over 400lbs of blubber. 10,000 Viewers

This stream was a special one. Derek had tipped the scales at a whopping 500lbs, reluctantly heaving himself out of his bench-sized seat to show off for the chat just where all of those pounds had piled on to. Face swollen with fat, his jawline completely obscured by chins and a tire-sized neck. Thighs wider than his former waist, and of course, the unmistakable belly which was not so round and lard-filled it rested on his knees when he was sitting. "Finally hit a follower milestone," Derek wheezed proudly, wiping sweat off his forehead from the exertion of just standing for several minutes and then collapsing back down into his seat. It creaked ominously. On instinct, you check his Amazon wishlist. Candy, funnel, XXXXXXXXL shorts, more candy, bariatric scale...huh. No bench. Guess he thought the one hw as currently straining was going to last longer than it sounded like. "So someone sponsored to me to eat a hundred-thousand calories, one for each follower!" You thought you misheard. 100,000? That can't possible be right. And Derek was popular sure, but with a niche group. You double-check and his follower count was sitting at 10,002. Confused, you check the chat. did he say 100,000!!? looking and thinking like a pig no one said jocks were smart That's going to take days think he'll realize? too late to back out, he took the money That's like 30 pounds of calories. No way is he going to do it! Derek was reading the chat and checking his phone in confusion. "I did...misread a bit there." Do it eat it 100,000 blimp he's gonna pop come on fatty, EAT EAT EAT! Derek still looks confused, but puts his phone away and smacks a hand to his belly. "I can handle it. Better start now..." You can't watch the entire stream, having to pull yourself away at some point to go to bed and go to work. You haven't missed much - Derek sits at his computer, struggling to his feet every few hours to get his latest food delivery he doesn't bother to turn off the livestream and everyone gets' a perfect view of Derek's swinging, wobbling obese frame as he slowly shuffles in and out of view. Even at night, he waddles out of view to go to bed but leaves the stream running, his snores rattling around the empty room and the only view the staggering amount of fast food containers thrown haphazardly everywhere. Think he'll reach 600? he's too fat to stop now he should eat like this all the time It takes Derek 2 days to eat it all. Even for someone used to all the eating challenges, Derek was eating with a frenzy and a determination you'd never seen. The chat kept his calorie counter for him, and he was absolutely struggling to keep on pace, looking like every bite was a Herculean effort. You tune back in, the afternoon when Derek is down to his last 2,000 calories in a bag of greasy burgers and fries and milkshakes. He looks bloated and fat in a way you've never seen, like at any minute he was going to just start expanding and become a fat filled-balloon the size of the room. His body was clearly protesting, Derek had to keep taking longer and longer breaks inbetween to massage his belly, although he couldn't fully reach around it. Gurgling farts and thunderous belches that chat kept telling him meant he had room for more. 100,000 calories. Almost done. Just a few more... Derek guzzled down the rest of his milkshake and looked triumphantly at his camera, eyes glazed over and face smeared with food.

T-Told ...*puff*... ...*BRRPFFBLTTT*... you ...*uhhnngh*... ...*thbbbt*... I ...*hmphhh*... ...*Brrbllpfft*... c-could ...*blurrRRPPP*... ...*Splrrpffrtbtlt*... do ...*BRRRPPphh*... ...*Frrrpffltbtt*... it.

#Ummm i was trying something new #let me know if it worked #or didn't #this is just me writing kink fic vaguely tied to teen wolf tbh

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