#(I feel like Michael and Steve would hit it off too)

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐨

18+ MINORS DNI

a/n: listened to juno in the car and had this idea 😋

summary: based on the song by sabrina carpenter (you babytrap nat); g!p nat, college!au, natasha's kind of a fuckboy

warnings: contains quite a bit of smut (hence the 18+ tag), babytrapping (= mildly toxic relationship?), buff athlete nat because that’s a warning in itself

word count: 11k (i fear it’s gotten impossible for me to write anything under 5k words lol)

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Initiating public sex in front of your friends should never be a good idea.

When you're as bored as you are right now, though, that opinion quickly begins to waver.

Hand under your shirt, your head on her shoulder. The movie you're watching is one you haven't seen before. Teen pregnancy, Michael Cera, indie soundtracks, yawn. You sigh, first quietly, then a little louder.

Natasha's nose brushes against your temple. Her hand travels higher up, fingers grazing your bra.

"Not a fan?", she mumbles. You lean into her, feeling her bicep against your shoulder. "We can ditch them."

"No." It's been a while since you last had time to spend with your friends. It's also been a while since you didn't sneak off early to fuck each other brainless. "Let's stay", you say, turning your head. "At least so we can see whether they actually fall for each other."

"No offense, but who would fall for that guy? Even I would look better in those shorts."

"Don't disrespect Michael", you mumble, smiling. "Also, you'd need bigger ones to fit everything, babe."

In front of you, Clint rolls his eyes. He lets out the longest sigh known to man and turns his head, his expression lacking any amusement whatsoever. He should be used to this kind of behavior, but to be fair, he just wants one night where your shameless PDA doesn't ruin everything.

"Alright", he says. "One more comment like that and-"

"God, you're a prude." She throws her empty red solo cup at him and he jumps up. "Chill."

He directs one last warning glare at you both, then he plops back down onto the floor. As soon as he's distracted again — drinking beer, talking to his girlfriend — she pulls you closer. Your hand finds her lower stomach, gently pressing against it.

Her breath hits your ear when she exhales, hot and slow. Your hand moves a little lower. Not too far, just enough to flirt with the limit. Her fingers curl into the soft skin of your stomach.

She doesn't say anything, though. Your fingertips dance over the fabric of her sweatpants. They graze the bulge there, prominent even when she's not hard, before finally cupping it. A sharp breath escapes her.

Still, she doesn't stop you. Her eyes stay glued to the screen, where Juno is currently giving birth. The way she's staring makes it seem like she's actually invested in what's happening, but you know the truth. One wrong move, and she'll either embarrass herself — or ruin her pants.

Or both. Most likely both.

You already look irresistible enough, wearing that sinfully short skirt. With your legs tucked under your butt and your vanilla perfume clouding her senses, your hand on her cock can only lead to a disaster.

"Y/N", she whispers through gritted teeth. You palm her crotch and feel her harden.

"Mhm?" You lean in and press your lips to her jaw. Red lipstick stains her skin. It's a sight so satisfying that you keep trailing kisses across her cheek.

Natasha closes her eyes. A noise, muffled and quiet, gets stuck in her throat. You scoff and move your hand to wrap your fingers around her length, only the fabric of her clothes separating you.

"What is it?", you ask, giving a few testing strokes. She shakes her head and you finally hear that soft whimper you'd been waiting for. "Aw, poor baby. All worked up."

In front of you, Steve mumbles something. He gets up, but before he can turn around and catch Natasha and you in this compromising situation, you move and quickly sit on her lap.

Bad idea. This might be worse than the almost-handjob you were about to give her.

Steve doesn't notice anything, but you do. Her head falls forward to lean against your shoulder, her hands grip your waist. You shift and grind against her boner, feeling her tip rub against the wet patch on your panties. At least your skirt hides everything.

You rub against her with more insistence, eyes closing. Her cock, though still clothed, fits perfectly between your folds. If you try hard enough, you can pretend she's inside of you.

"Fuck", she moans. You reach behind you to squeeze her, squeeze any part of her you can reach. "Fuck, I'll come."

Clint pauses, then slowly turns his head. You go completely still, eyes fixed on the tv and your hands folded in your lap. He knows you better than to believe this little act you're putting on, though.

You're surprised he doesn't drag you out by your collars, but you get sent back to your dorms anyway.

"Idiot", you say, grabbing the front of her letter jacket. You pull her into a deep kiss, her hands roaming your body. Salt and butter, sugar and green apple. The snacks of the evening created an addictive taste, and you silently thank Clint for not getting garlic knots again.

"You started it", she pants, trailing her lips down your neck. Your back hits the wall of the dormitory, her hard-on pressing against your hip. Her hand disappears under your skirt and palms your crotch, feeling the soaked fabric of your panties. You're dripping down your thighs. "And I'll end it. Fuck."

You moan, the sound a little too obvious. It's quiet outside, apart from the occasional hum of car engines in the distance. Due to it being a Tuesday night, there are no parties. Most people are either in their dorms or pulling an all-nighter in the library. If anyone's got their window open, they'll hear you.

Natasha sinks her teeth into your shoulder. You cry out, a little louder, and she shushes you by nudging your panties aside with her fingers.

"Quiet", she mumbles, voice gentle like a praise. "Quiet for me, baby."

You writhe when she pushes two fingers into you. They slip in easily, your folds slick with wet heat, and immediately begin thrusting into you. You buck your hips to meet her movements, but she pulls out before you can even get started.

"Hey", you protest, ignoring the fact that she's already got her arm wrapped around you. Fingers in her mouth to lick off excess moisture, she pulls you toward the entrance. "Nat, I'm horny."

"Where's your roommate again?"

"Huh?" You frown, then lightly slap her chest. "Right! Good call."

She laughs quietly, the sound rough and strained, and walks up the stairs. Her hand moves to dip under your skirt. She gropes your ass, kneading the flesh. "I seriously don't know how you got into college, baby."

"Wow. Here I was, considering head tonight, and you made me change my mind."

"Oh, please." She pushes open the door and walks you to the bed. As soon as she's seated, you straddle her and wrap your arms around her neck. Her hands are under your shirt before you can even kiss her. Her tongue brushes against the seam of your lips and you open your mouth.

You grind against her boner, which only makes the ache between your legs worse. Natasha breaks the kiss to tug off your top. Her eyes dart a little lower, zeroing in on your chest. Full breasts, spilling out of a lacy bra with tiny hearts embroidered in it.

Her face sinks to bury itself between your boobs. You feel wet kisses on your skin.

"Taste so good."

"Nat."

"So soft."

"Nat."

She huffs, but doesn't look up. Her hands move your hips, making you rub against her cock. The crotch of her sweatpants is stained with a little wet patch. "What?"

"I want you to fuck me, not make out with my breasts all night long."

You feel the heat of her cheeks. Smirking faintly, you run your hand into her hair.

"Screw you."

"I'm trying." You twist a strand of her hair around your finger and tug. "Come on. I thought of a new position we could try."

That manages to make her look up, though she seems skeptic. It's almost like a game you've been playing — who can come up with the wildest position? Anything counts, as long as it leads to at least one of you having an orgasm.

"You better not disappoint this time", she says and kisses your jaw. Her hands splay out on your ass, fingertips brushing under the fabric of your panties. "That last one was a letdown."

You hum. You have to agree with her here — sidesaddle riding doesn't work no matter how you interpret it, apparently.

"This one's good", you say, getting off her lap. She groans.

"We could pause the game", she pleads, making puppy dog eyes at you. It's a fun game, sure, but sometimes, she wants to see your face while she fucks you. "Just tonight."

You tilt your head at her, eyebrows raised in silent approval for her to keep going.

"I'll let you top", Natasha adds. That's enough for you to be sold.

. . .

When you wake up, it's because of someone knocking on the door.

At first, you don't notice it. Too tight is sleep's grip on you, too warm is your bed. You're curled into Natasha, her arms wrapped around you and holding you close. But then they knock again, more insistently this time, and you sigh.

You squint to block out the sun and get up, stepping over the empty ramen cups you discarded on the floor after a late-night craving. Behind you, Natasha mutters something and rolls over. You slip into a loose shirt and open the door.

Randy, your resident advisor, pauses when he sees you. Messy hair, a thin shirt that barely reaches your thighs, your neck littered with marks. You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Yes?", you drawl. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. His freckled face flushes pink and he coughs. "Come on, I don't have all morning."

"There, uhm- there was a noise complaint", he says, fingers drumming against the clipboard he for some reason always carries around. "From one of the other students."

You give him a blank stare. "Okay?"

"No, not okay. Look, I don't care what you do in your free time, but maybe keep it down? The walls are quite thin, and the excessive noise, uh..." He sighs, eyes flitting down your body again. He shifts awkwardly, clipboard angled a bit, and you realize that he's trying to conceal a certain problem he's run into.

If the situation was different, you'd be irritated. But watching Randy, the 30-something guy who started working here two years ago, stumble over his own words and stutter like a nervous first grader, is too amusing to genuinely get pissed.

You lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Deep breaths, honey. Don't faint on me."

He tries to glare at you, but fails miserably. "Y/N, I'm being serious. Others want to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah." You wave your hand dismissively. "I'll tell Nat."

Behind you, Natasha groans into your pillow. "Tell them to mind their own business", she mutters, voice rough with sleep. "Or move the fuck out."

He briefly peeks into the room, then directs his attention toward you again. You give him a challenging look.

"Nat", he repeats. The way he says her name does manage to irritate you now. You know what others think of her. You also know they're not entirely wrong. "Oh, yeah, fine. Good."

"Good", you repeat, stepping back with one hand on the doorknob. "Oh, and Randy? I know you've been getting, like, zero action lately, but I just woke up. Not even you can be that desperate. Maybe touch some grass?"

He lets out a choked sound. Before he can say anything, you wave two fingers at him and close the door.

"Buh-bye!", you call, just before the door snaps in. You twirl around and spot Natasha, still half asleep and sprawled out on your bed. Her red hair is loose for once, messy and soft, and you ignore the urge to get back into bed with her.

She hums, stretching like a cat, all lazy smiles and toned arms. An admittedly enticing sight. "Got rid of him?"

"Oh yeah." You run your hand along her arm. "I kinda feel bad for the guy."

"Don't. He's a creep." She puts her hand on the back of your thigh, tugging on it. If you didn't know better, you'd think she's scared you'll just slip away. "Feel bad for me. The abandoned girlfriend."

You huff, not budging. You'd love to go back to bed, but you have other things to do.

"Classes", you remind her, turning away. You take off your shirt and she groans. "Shower, too." Your panties follow. This time, she lets out a full blown moan.

You turn around and give her an unimpressed (albeit slightly amused) look. "And that is why we got a noise complaint."

"Come on", she whines. "Not even professors like their own classes. You can afford ten more minutes, baby. I won't even make you put on your clothes again."

"You say that like it's supposed to benefit me."

"It benefits both of us." Natasha grunts and finally sits up, slouching. Her arms are crossed over her lap as her eyes travel up and down your body. It takes you a second to realize why.

She tilts her head, cheeks pink. The expression on her face is both guilty and hopeful, like she's weighing her odds. A productive day or a few more minutes — maybe hours, if she plays her cards right — in bed with her?

Her chances aren't looking too bad.

"You can't be serious", you deadpan. Of course, she is.

"I'll be quick."

"You're never quick!"

"You can't blame me for that", she retorts. "God, how am I supposed to keep my hands off you for the next few hours?"

"Next few 'hours'? Babe, you have practice today. Plus, I wanted to go shopping."

Natasha flops onto her back dramatically. It gives you a full view of her body, head to toe, with her not-so-little problem included. You bite the inside of your cheek frustratedly as you realize she's chipping away at your resolve.

"Practice isn't that important", she mutters, her forearms covering her eyes.

"Babe, you're team captain", you say, turning around. Focus on something else, anything else. If you cave, you will definitely be late. Or, worst case scenario, you won't leave your dorm before lunchtime — again. "Just...take a cold shower. I'll see you tonight."

She mutters something about 'showers being a scam' under her breath, then finally gets up. You watch her gather her stuff and get dressed, but you keep her letter jacket clutched to your chest. She raises her eyebrows and reaches out her hand.

"No."

"That's mine."

"Nope."

Natasha rolls her eyes, but ultimately just kisses you before slipping into her shoes. She can't help it — she's weak for you.

"I'll get you back for this", she says, then the door falls shut behind her.

. . .

The basketball circles the hoop once, twice, leaving everyone on the edge of their seats.

One leg crossed over the other, you lean forward. Red lips part slightly, manicured nails dig into the thin skin of your knee. All eyes are on the ball, which wobbles — but then it slips off and bounces away. You groan and toss your head back.

"Come on, Romanoff!", someone next to you shouts.

"Damn it", you curse. You go to her games all the time, and usually, you enjoy it. Watching her miss a shot, however, is not the most pleasant part of the experience.

Natasha runs her hand over her hair, clearly frustrated. She's been off her shooting game today, and she doesn't know why. She's not doing anything different.

You watch her trail backwards, bouncing on her heels and her eyes locked on the hoop. When she hears her team's complaints, she turns around. She yells at a teammate, then at a player from the opposite team, before the coach calls for a timeout.

She jogs to the bench, snatches her water bottle, and tips her head back to take a swig. Baby hairs stick to her sweaty temples, the veins on her arms popping. You lean forward.

"Nat!"

She looks up, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched. Then she realizes it's you and, just like that, her scowl softens. She glances at her team to check if anyone's watching her before approaching you. You're in the first row, right next to the home team's bench, so all she has to do is lean on the barrier separating the seats from the court.

"Hey", she says.

"'Hey'? Are you kidding me? What the hell was up with that shot?"

Natasha frowns and huffs. "Alright, I don't need a lecture right now. So unless you want to kiss me for good luck-"

A girl from her team — one you don't know too well — nudges her. Natasha barely glances at her, but it's enough for you to lean forward and tug at her ear.

"What the fuck!"

"I'm serious! You missed by, like, half a mile."

The glare she gives you is deadly, but you deserve it. You are being a little unfair. For good reason, though: whenever you're there to berate her, she suddenly starts playing much better. It's like magic. She needs a healthy dose of bullying from you for her performance to be at its peak.

"Alright", she snaps. "Be my guest. Suit up and try, if you think you'll do better."

"Oh, no." You reach up and brush your fingers along her jaw before resting them under her chin. "You're the best, aren't you? So show me that's true, and I'll reward you. But losers don't get a reward."

"You drive a hard bargain", she mutters. You smile innocently and tap her bottom lip. "Fine. Fine, I'll...do better, I guess."

"That's my girl", you purr and, with a light push against her mouth, send her back to her team.

The game continues.

Before halftime, Natasha's team was trailing 34-37, but after some strong defense and a layup, the score is tied again. That is, until the opposing team hits a couple of shots.

You're agitated, but confident. At least you're pretty sure you are.

Most of her games are like this. Her team needs to be slightly behind for her to be able to give it her all. You convince yourself it won't be different this time, either.

Eyes zeroed in on Natasha, you watch her every move. How she dribbles the ball, weaves through the defenders, loses the ball again. The game is a close one. They're playing against one of the better teams this time, and it shows.

It's a back and forth between the teams. The opposing team gets a small lead, which is quickly lost thanks to another shot. During the last minute, they're tied again. Teams are trading baskets, but you don't know whether you should stay positive.

For a while, it looks bad. Time is running out. Then, in a split second, Natasha is open at the top of the arc. The pass is fast, almost too high, but she catches it. Your breathing stops for a moment and you barely manage to restrain yourself from jumping up from your seat.

Five seconds left. The team's are neck-and-neck. Natasha has the ball.

Three seconds left. She makes her move, stepping back for a three-pointer. She rises, muscles coiled, and lets the ball fly.

One second left. After cutting through the air and briefly hitting the hoop, the ball swishes through the net.

66-64. The buzzer sounds. Her team has won.

You're on your feet before you realize it, yelling along with the audience. Natasha's team crashes into her the second she's back on the ground, but she only lets them slap her back and punch her arms for a few seconds before she weaves through the small crowd.

You hop over the barricade and into her arms, not caring about the fact she's all sweaty. Her lips press against your neck, her hand rubs up and down your back. She spins you around.

"You did it!"

"Because of you."

"That shot was amazing. More of that, please."

Natasha laughs, low and rough and exhausted, and tips her head back to look up at you. You smile and kiss her. She tastes like salt and Gatorade.

"Still the best?", she teases after pulling away. The soles of your sneakers make a quiet thudding sound against the vinyl floor.

"Always", you promise, pecking her lips once more. Natasha smirks and tugs off her jersey to hand it to you. With the fabric gone, she's almost naked. Only a sports bra and shorts cover her body. You earn a few stares from the opposing team, who isn't used to your little ritual, but you don't notice. It's a nice view, so you'd be an idiot to look at anyone but her.

You put on the jersey and let her pull you into her side again. She kisses you, slow and unhurried, while leading you back toward her team.

It's a last minute decision from the team to go to a bar together. Natasha takes a quick shower before you leave, now wearing something more comfortable. Getting her to dress up is a losing battle, so you don't even try this time. Plus, there's something distinctly attractive about the grey sweatpants she's sporting (or rather, what she's sporting inside the grey sweatpants).

You stay glued to her side pretty much all night. You're in her lap, her arm firmly holding you in place. The bass makes the ground vibrate and the alcohol is clouding your senses, but it's still early enough for you to be somewhat aware of reality.

You lean your cheek against her temple, then turn your head to brush your lips against her skin. She hums and squeezes your thigh, but her attention wavers. Two girls approach her, both of them around your age and probably fellow students.

Natasha glances at them, eyebrows raised. You cup her nape and brush your thumb against her hairline.

The girls smile, a little too brightly, and start talking about the basketball game. They're shameless — even with you, wearing Natasha's jersey and sitting on her lap, they're still going on and on about the game and the shots she made.

With every word that leaves their glossy pink lips, Natasha's focus on you slips more and more. Her hand on your thigh loosens. Her gaze, first flickering between you and the others, starts to linger on them. Her lips curve into that confident little smile you know too well.

You roll your eyes and scoot off her lap. If she has to do this, you don't want to be present. You excuse yourself and go to the restroom, where you freshen up. More lipstick, more perfume. You lift the front of Natasha's jersey and take a whiff to see whether it smells. It's not horrible, but noticeable enough, so you decide to change into the top you brought.

When you return to the bar, Natasha has leaned over to the girls. Arms crossed on the bar's counter, a lazy smirk on her face. The post-game glow is on full display. She tilts her head and mumbles something. It takes you a moment to realize she's flirting.

The girls are delighted. Giggling, shrugging, leaning forward as well. Their expressions indicate they clearly believe at least one of them has a shot. You understand why — Natasha, even after getting into a relationship with you, never quite got rid of her fuckboy-image —, but that doesn't mean you're not furious.

You want to compose yourself, you really do. You're pretty sure this isn't what it looks like, anyway. Fingernails digging into your palms, you watch them for another moment. Then, Natasha subtly bites her lip in that way that first drew you to her, and you've had enough.

You're next to her within seconds, your hand wrapping around her wrist. She lets out a grunt as you drag her away, leaving the two girls speechless and mildly annoyed.

"Have you lost your mind?", she complains, finally finding her voice again. You're already halfway into a bathroom stall.

"Have you?", you snap, pushing her inside and slamming the door shut. Natasha pauses, her eyes traveling up and down your body. The top, almost translucent and leaving little to the imagination, has her more than a little distracted. "My face is up here, you bastard."

"What? Hey!" She frowns. "What happened? What'd I do?"

There's a significant height difference between her and you, but it's not like that ever bothered you. You shove her against the wall, your eyes blazing. Her first instinct is to step forward — she's taller, all shoulders and muscle —, but she can tell you're pissed. Once she realizes she's fucked up, she lifts her hands and almost shrinks under your glare.

"Are you playing dumb? Don't play dumb!"

"What are you even- I was talking to them! They asked about the game!"

"You were flirting!"

Natasha scoffs, her cheeks a nervous-rosy pink. It'd look cute if you weren't about to slam her head through the plastic wall of the stall.

"I wasn't 'flirting'", she argues. "I was talking to them."

"No", you retort. "You were flirting. I could tell. They had that glittery look in their eyes stupid bitches get when you're close to them."

She blinks, caught off-guard, and her head tilts. The word you used is one you usually stay away from. The second you start cussing out other girls? Okay, now she knows you're mad mad.

"Baby", she says slowly, "I swear we were just talking. Nothing else. I don't give a fuck about anyone but you, and you know it."

"Right." You let out a bitter laugh. The sound makes her stomach tighten. "That's good to hear. Maybe it'd be believable if you hadn't tried to-"

The door of the bathroom stall next to yours opening cuts you off. You pause and turn when you hear the quiet pattering sound. Toilet paper rips. The person flushes. Then, shuffling of feet. It takes unbelievably long, and you let out a long sigh.

"Can you hurry?", you finally bark, and the person drops their purse. Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry!", they say, their voice a squeak, and leave the stall. Water runs, more paper towels, then the door falls shut. You turn to Natasha again, whose ears are as pink as her cheeks.

You raise your eyebrows, as if daring her to say something. Her mouth opens, then closes, and she rubs the back of her neck.

"Okay", she says. "Maybe it was flirting, in a way. I didn't mean to, though."

Your fingers tighten on the front of her zip hoodie. Her eyes widen in silent panic.

"You can't flirt without meaning to flirt!"

"You totally can", she says, her back thudding against the wall once more. "Can you stop that?! Jesus, you're scary."

That last bit is mumbled, but you hear it anyway. It's enough to make you laugh — a sound that slips out unintentionally — but you quickly shake your head.

"I can be way scarier, you know. This is nothing."

"I totally believe that", she says, frowning petulantly. "You're turning into a tiny terror."

Despite your anger, your lips twitch again. Your grasp on her hoodie loosens, your scowl softens the tiniest bit. It's enough for Natasha, who first tried to gauge your mood for a few seconds, to take a leap of faith.

"The sexiest tiny terror", she adds, pulling you closer. You sigh. "My tiny terror. Why would I want anyone else when I have you?"

"This feels like manipulation, babe."

Her eyes light up — babe. She's getting somewhere.

"It's not", she promises, kissing your forehead. Her hands roam your sides, your hips, and slip under your top. "I'm being serious. Scout's honor."

"You're so full of shit."

Natasha grins and keeps kissing your face. Your cheeks, your eyebrows, the corner of your mouth. Unfortunately, each press of her lips against your skin softens you further. You'll probably just have to accept she's an expert at buttering you up.

"Come on now", she mumbles, her mouth against your ear. You giggle quietly when her tongue briefly flicks against your earlobe. "You know you love me."

"I must've done something terrible in my past life to deserve this."

She hums, her hands palming your sides. You exhale and lean into her, willing yourself to not give in — and failing. Her lips brush against your neck, sucking a hickey into the sensitive skin, and a shiver rolls up your spine.

Without really noticing, you press closer. Natasha's fingers find the clasp of your bra and swiftly unhook it.

"Hey", you protest, trying to bat her hand away. She buries her face against your neck, but doesn't budge. Her hand slides around to your front. "I can't believe I put up with you."

"Me neither", she mumbles, smirking faintly. "I'm a lucky idiot."

"Well, that's true."

Natasha kisses your neck, then your shoulder. Her hands push up your top and reveal your skin inch by inch. Your breath stutters when, suddenly, the roles are reversed and you feel your back against the wall.

Your hands come up to tangle in her hair. She grips your thighs and mouths at your neck.

"You're not forgiven, you know."

"Sure."

Her teeth sink into your neck. You barely manage to speak.

"I mean it."

Underwear around your ankles, you help her tug her sweatpants down. She struggles with the condom, but once the piece of plastic is wrapped around her cock snugly, she holds your hips in place and buries herself inside you. No time to adjust — she sets a fast pace.

The back of your head hits the wall and you let out a moan. Natasha keeps rutting into you, moaning breathily, your hands in her hair and her hands gripping your ass. She stuffs you up to the brim, cock pulsing and twitching, and pounds into you relentlessly.

Right as you're just about to tumble over the edge, the bathroom door opens again. You feel a moan rise up in your throat and quickly slap your own hand over your mouth, stifling the sound. Natasha laughs breathlessly, but then whines against your neck.

Whoever entered seems oblivious. They're on the phone, talking rapidly, while water flows in the background. You hear the clinking of stilettos on tiles and then smell a faint waft of some overly sweet perfume.

This whole situation usually wouldn't pose much of an issue. You're close enough, and you know from experience that you can keep quiet when needed. But Natasha, being who she is, slows down. Her grip on you loosens, her movements are drawn-out. Your thighs tremble and you groan against your own palm.

"I'll kill you."

"Ssh, baby", she mumbles, dragging her lips along your jaw. Her hips meet yours, again and again and again, but she's going too slow to really achieve anything. "Don't get us caught."

Every deliberate roll of her hips sends shockwaves of pleasure through you. You whimper and bite down on your palm harder, meeting her movements with your hips. The pressure increases, and so does the need to push Natasha to go faster. Your thighs clench around her, but all she does is smile against your neck. You rock against her hips, desperate for more.

"Fuck you", you hiss, but the words die on your tongue when she picks up the pace. She ruts into you, urging you closer to the edge while you wrestle with the impulse to shout her name.

"I love you", she says, each word punctuated by a soft grunt. The bathroom door falls shut, and you finally get coaxed into that sweet high of mindless oblivion.

. . .

The sun is long gone, replaced by the milky light of the moon that's seeping into the library.

Natasha called it a 'study-session', hoping it'd turn into something else entirely. But exams are coming up, and as much as you'd like to hide in the encyclopedia aisle and hook up again, you'd rather she passes.

You're sitting on the table in front of her, with her head in your lap, as you test her knowledge on the subject. Sports Law — something you've only gotten familiar with since dating her.

"That's wrong", you say, running your fingers through her hair. "It's title IX of the education amendments of 1972. You should know that, babe."

She groans and turns her head, burying her face between your thighs. You smile faintly and drum your fingers against her scalp.

"Who cares? I'll pass, anyway. I always do."

"I want you to ace this one, though."

"Pipe dream."

"Nat."

Another groan. She pushes up the fabric of your shirt and shifts, her lips brushing against your lower abdomen. You bite back a soft sound of pleasure.

Not now. You have other things to focus on. But god, her hands start massaging your thighs, and her lips feel warm and plush, and the library seems empty enough. Heat pools in your lower belly and you quickly shove her off you.

"No", say, voice strained. "Study. Now."

"You're boring", Natasha mutters, grabbing the book and skimming the pages. "I know all of this. It's easy."

"You got four questions wrong", you counter, glancing at the screen of her phone when it buzzes. Her wallpaper flashes on the screen — a picture of you, only wrapped into silky bedsheets, with kiss marks on your shoulders and your hair a mess. But that's not what catches your attention. It's the message that just popped up.

A girl named Tara.

Natasha lifts her head and peeks at her phone. You snatch it before she can reach for it.

"Who's that?", you prompt.

"A girl from Sports Economics", she says, sitting up. She tries to grab the phone, but you hold it out of her reach. "Babe."

"Why's she texting you at midnight?"

"Not sure", she replies, irritated, and tries to grab it again. Her fingertips brush against the edge of the phone. "I could tell you if you'd let me read the damn text."

"She always texts you this late?", you ask, glancing up at the phone.

A simple message — hey, you awake? :) — but still unexpected enough to annoy you. You squint and try to look at her profile picture.

"Hold on, is that the girl who said hi to you in the cafeteria the other day? The one with the pink eyeshadow?"

"Yeah", she says, her arm dropping in defeat. "Tara. Like I said, I know her from Econ."

"It's midnight", you mutter, bringing the phone back down. Before Natasha can protest, you've used her face to unlock the phone and opened the chat. Natasha rolls her eyes and huffs, so you pinch her bottom lip. "You should tell her to find some new makeup. I thought she was fighting for her life against allergies."

"You're mean."

"Her makeup sucks."

"Doesn't make it any less mean", she argues, resting her head on your lap again. She sighs, eyes closing, and waits for you to finish whatever you're doing. "Still scrolling?"

"It's a long chat", you mutter, thumb swiping over the screen. Luckily, the messages seem innocent enough. At least Natasha's do. "She wants you."

"I'm pretty sure she's straight."

"Nat", you say, putting her phone aside. "Straight girls want you, too."

She looks up, smirking. You flick her forehead.

"Ow!"

You narrow your eyes at her, watching her rub the spot you flicked. "You're enjoying this."

"I am", she says bluntly. "You're going on and on about some girl I really don't care about."

"She cares about you", you argue. "In the past, that seemed to be enough."

Natasha scoffs and sits up, leaning back in her chair. She studies you for a moment, her arms crossed over her chest, then sighs. Her legs stretch out under the table.

"Exactly", she finally says. "In the past. Not now, not last week, but when it didn't matter."

"I feel like some things don't stop mattering."

"Like my love for you", she flirts. You kick her side and she lets out a quiet 'oof'. "What'd I do to deserve that, huh?!"

"You can't flirt your way out of everything, you know!"

"I'm not flirting my way out", she protests, looping her arms around your waist and tugging you closer. You sigh, thighs snugly wrapped around her torso. "I love you. Nothing can change that."

"No?" You give her a skeptical look. She just shakes her head and leans in, pressing a few kisses to your chest.

"No", she mumbles. "I love you. Period. Now stop worrying."

You stare at her as she nuzzles and kisses your chest, slowly moving upwards. Her thoughts are somewhere else already, whereas you're still stuck. Tara, the girls at the bar, the stares Natasha gets all day long. Your worries, fears, and how easily she can dismiss them. How, when you're mad, she manages to worm her way out of just about everything.

Smooth words and soft touches are her specialty. She uses them like a tool, which can be hot, but also incredibly frustrating. You know why it's so easy for her — because she knows you'll stay. You won't leave. She claims that the same thing is true for her, but maybe she'll need to prove that.

The thought creeps in slowly, dangerously. It's nothing more than a small, fleeting idea at first, but the longer you watch her, the more drawn to it you become.

Natasha says she's yours. She says there's nothing to worry about. You'd love to know whether she actually means that.

She loves you, after all. Logically, she'd love a tiny version of you just as much.

"Hey", you mumble, eyes focused on her. She pauses, lips pressed to your jaw. "You seem distracted."

"Can't help it. I'll need a different study-buddy to be able to concentrate on anything but you."

"Oh yeah?" You glance at the clock hanging on the wall across from you. Almost 1am. "It's late, you know. We might as well leave."

She hums against your skin and looks up. "Your dorm's still empty?"

"Mhm", you say before you're able to reconsider this whole plan. "We got the whole room to ourselves."

"Well then", she says, getting up and pecking your lips, "what are we waiting for? Let's go."

The hallway is as empty as the library was. Natasha presses you against the wall, caging you in between a corner and her body, and kisses you. Hands bunch up your shirt, feel heated skin. You wrap your arms around her neck and hum into the kiss.

Her hand dips into the back pocket of your jeans. She fishes out the key to your dorm, then leads you down the hallway. One arm wrapped around your waist, she unlocks the door using her free hand.

Bodies tumble onto the mattress together. Breathy laughter, stripping of clothes, bare skin on bare skin. Natasha turns, opens the drawer of the nightstand next to you to look for condoms, but you tug her on top you again. She doesn't resist and kisses you, lips moving and messing up your makeup.

You feel her nestled inside of you, every vein and throb noticeable. She grabs and angles your thigh for deeper access, her moans mingling with yours. Lipstick marks smudged on her cheek, hickeys on your chest. The bed frame hits the wall with every thrust, muffled thuds filling the air.

Her hand finds your lower belly, pressing down on it. Natasha feels her own outline through the soft skin and groans quietly. Teeth nip at your neck, her hips meeting yours a few more times. Then, the anticipated release and the relief that comes with it.

Warmth pools deep inside of you. It drips down your thighs, staining the bedsheets, but all you manage to do is turn your head and bury your face in her neck. Your fingers brush against your stomach, and the full acceptance of what might happen starts to set in.

. . .

Weeks have passed. Late spring has turned into something resembling an early summer.

A little '+' confirms it.

You're alone when you take it. It's quite early, not even 6am, but you got woken up by someone yelling in the hallway. The test was right next to you, lying on your nightstand like a bad omen, then you finally grabbed it and got up.

Taking it wasn't hard, but checking the result is. You stare at the test in your hand, your brain too tired and sleepy to process everything. Leaning against the wall of your dorm's bathroom, you try to let reality sink in. It doesn't feel real. Not yet, at least.

Knowing it is real helps, though. You put the test aside and exhale, fingers drumming against the tiled wall behind you. Your thoughts are more of a mess than you thought they'd be.

It was a heat-of-the-moment, impulsive decision. It was also incredibly stupid. Yet you're here, eyes glued to the ceiling, and find yourself regretting nothing at all. At this point, not even the thought of her reaction scares you.

She said she loved you. All you're doing is putting that love to the test. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Bullshit. You know you've fucked up.

You meet her after class, as you agreed on earlier that morning. She seems calm, happy, completely oblivious to what secret you're (literally) carrying with you. Hands on your waist, she pecks your lips, then she grabs your backpack and slings it over her shoulder.

It's a warm afternoon, so you head to the mall. You grab a few things you need — new pajamas, some shampoo, a water bottle to replace the one you lost. Natasha tosses a pack of condoms into the shopping cart and you barely stop yourself from reacting too obviously.

On your way out, you pass a store that exclusively sells baby-related items. Strollers, onesies, highchairs. You avert your eyes and stay close to Natasha's side.

Late evening. You're back on Clint's couch, passing around pizza and trying to decide on a movie. Clint complains about Laura's last pick — Juno — which, apparently, most of you didn't like too much.

Natasha pulls your legs over her lap, lightly massaging your shin. She's only in a white tank top that leaves her shoulders and arms on full display. You'd be distracted if you weren't worrying about other things already.

"I wasn't a fan, either", she says, glancing at Clint. "But I did like what it led to."

"Right. I swear to everything that's holy, if you start something like that again-"

"Seriously, calm down." She raises her eyebrows. "Keep ranting like that and poor Laura will think you're going celibate."

He rolls his eyes and slumps into the couch, one hand swatting at her. She laughs and bats him away. When she glances at you, she notices how quiet you are, and nudges you.

"You're unusually non-hyper verbal, baby."

"I'm good", you say, stretching. "Just...bored."

You're not bored. You're far from bored. But you needed an excuse. However, Natasha takes it the wrong way, and a tiny smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah?", she says, running her hand higher. First it touches your knee, then it brushes under the hem of your dress. "Bathroom's empty. Maybe we'll even make it into the bedroom. I heard Mr. Prude over there got a new mattress."

"Romanoff, I will-"

"Shush." She raises her eyebrows at him before leaning closer to you. Her breath fans your cheek, her voice is a raspy murmur. "If you want us to ditch them, just tell me. I'll get us outta here."

"I'm fine", you assure her. "Just get me a beer."

Natasha nods and turns, grabbing a can from the ice bucket they prepared. She cracks it open right as you realize you probably shouldn't drink it.

"Actually", you stammer, "I'm good. None for me. Thank you."

She raises her eyebrows, but doesn't comment on it. Shrugging, she takes a sip.

"Sure", she says. "I can get you a coke?"

"No, thanks." You shake your head and sink into the cushions, trying to keep the heat from your face. It's difficult, though, and it only gets worse when a character in whatever movie you're watching (truthfully, you aren't paying much attention) is revealed to be pregnant.

You rub your neck, throwing glances at Natasha every now and then. She's still oblivious. Then, she catches you staring, and her head tilts in silent question. You pause before getting up and dragging her along.

"What...?"

"Not in my bed!", Clint shouts.

"We're not having sex!", you yell back, slamming the door to his bedroom shut.

"We're not?"

You turn toward Natasha. "No", you say, awkwardly crossing your arms. "We're not."

"Shame", she says, smirking, and pushes her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. She studies you for a moment and her smirk softens. "You alright?"

"I'm fine", you lie. "We need to talk, though."

Her smirk disappears entirely. She frowns, her gaze steady and attentive. Alright, you think. You're mine now. Have fun finding out about it.

"Talk?", she says, leaning against the closet. "About what, baby? Did you do something?"

"Uhm..."

"You did?" She grins faintly. "Wow. Didn't expect that to ever happen. How bad is it?"

"It's not funny", you say, plucking at the strap of your dress. "You won't be grinning like that once I tell you."

"Don't underestimate me", she teases, hands slipping out of her pockets to rest on your arms. "Anything can be funny, if you're looking at it the right way."

"Oh yeah?" You pause. "How funny is us being in this for the long haul?"

"Not very funny, honestly. I wouldn't mind, though."

"Mhm." You tilt your head. Your heart beats faster and faster, but at this point, you have to say it. "Good to know."

"It is?" Natasha hums and pulls you closer, her lips brushing against your nose. "Want to make it official, or why's that?"

"I mean, having a baby is pretty official."

The second those words leave your lips, Natasha freezes. First, she just stares at you. Her hands drop to her sides. She takes a step back, then another, her eyebrows furrowed and confusion etched into her face.

The gears in her head start turning. She tries recalling whether you've been using protection, but then her brain fails her, and she exhales sharply. Silence lingers, heavy and uncomfortable, before she finally blurts out.

"We're what?"

"I'm pregnant", you say. "Took a test. It's positive."

"You...I..." She rakes her hand through her hair, her eyes squeezed shut for a moment. Another step backwards, and her back collides with the wall. "We were careful."

"Oh, no." You watch her, growing more worried. "We weren't. Not that night after the library."

Natasha looks at you. Her brain eventually catches up.

"Oh, fuck", she curses. "Fuck. Y/N!"

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'?!"

"Can you calm down?" You tilt your head. "You said you're in it for the long haul, no?"

"You can't be serious!"

"Uhh, guys?"

You whip around. The door is still shut, but Clint is standing behind it.

"What?", you call, irritated.

"Look, no idea what the hell is going on in there, but if you need help..."

"No help. We're fine."

"Are we?", Natasha hisses. You look at her.

"Oh, relax", you say, rolling your eyes. "You'll live."

She lets out a panicked wheeze and scrubs her hand down her face. You're being too calm, too nonchalant, whereas she feels like she's about to have a dozen panic attacks at once. She's not one to let herself get tied down. At least, that's what she always told herself. You may have changed that belief, but old habits die hard.

"I can't have a kid now! I- I have practice, I have games!" Then, as if the thought just hit her: "This is like a teen pregnancy."

"You're in college."

"Same thing!"

"Absolutely not the same thing", you argue, stepping closer. "Look, it won't be easy, but it could be worse. I mean, you love me — now imagine how much you'll love a tinier, cuter version of me."

She shoots you a glare, her breathing still uneven and rapid. "Don't think you can get much tinier."

"Oh, fuck you."

"Absolutely not", she mutters. "Pretty sure that's what got me into this mess."

"You're saying I should've gotten railed by someone else?"

Another glare. This one shuts you up. Natasha turns, looks out the mirror, glances at the striped bedsheets and the painting on the wall. Finally, she looks at you.

"I shouldn't even ask, since you seem perfectly fine", she mutters, crossing her arms. "But what about you? You okay? I mean..."

"I'm fine", you say, more quietly now. She nods and looks away again. You step closer and cup her face, standing on your tiptoes to litter small kisses across her cheeks and forehead. With every touch, her panic softens into mild anxiety. Then, at last, her arms wrap around your waist.

You look at her. Natasha exhales sharply, like she's trying to make peace with it all. She doesn't smile, but her fingertips graze your lower belly.

"If we're doing this", she mumbles stubbornly, "I get to teach them basketball."

"Fine."

"They get a jersey. A tiny one. With my number on it."

You sigh. "Sure."

"Also, no more junk food. The baby eats what you eat."

You scoff, squishing her face. She gives you another halfhearted glare.

"I will end you", you say, squeezing again. She shakes her head and tries to pull away from your grasp. "I mean it! What's life without fries?"

"Depressing", she says, hands sliding to your front and then back to your waist. "But healthier for whatever is growing inside you."

Your expression turns deadpan. "It's a baby."

"Show me an ultrasound first."

"You know what, maybe I did make this up."

..."Excuse me?!"

"I'm kidding!"

"No", she protests. "Now I want to see a doctor's note."

You let out a long exhale and pull her closer, your face against her neck. You press a kiss to her pulse point to keep yourself from slapping her. Sometimes, you wonder whether she's annoying intentionally.

But then, she softens. Her arms wrap around you, muscles enveloping you in safety and warmth, and her lips press kisses to your hair. Her heartbeat against your ear, her scent everywhere around you, you feel yourself melt a little.

"If this is real", she says, shushing you before you can interfere, "I'll do my best, alright? I'm not good at sticking around. I know that. But you have made me stick around, and I'm sure the baby will only make me stick around longer."

"'Longer'", you mumble, voice muffled, "better mean forever in this case."

"I said what I said."

"Romanoff."

She laughs, still shaking a little, and tightens her hold on you. Her nose is buried in your hair.

"We're also finding an apartment", she murmurs. "The dorm's too small. Can't fit a crib in there."

"Obviously."

"And we're not telling the others. Not yet."

You hum, hands sliding under her top and feeling the muscles on her back. Her skin is warm and smooth, making you press closer to her. She groans softly.

"No?", you ask, drawing shapes on her lower back.

"No. Not until I don't feel like passing out just thinking about it."

You laugh, fingertips pressing into her skin. You look up at her and smile. The smile you get in return is a bit strained, but her hands come up to cup your face. You lean in and kiss her.

First, it's soft and slow. Her thumbs brush over your cheeks. A quiet hum comes from her throat.

Then, you're walking backwards. You feel the mattress against your legs. You pull away and raise your eyebrows.

"Now?"

"Cut me some slack. I need to relieve stress."

You huff, but she's got you on your back before you can say anything else. Your hands fumble with her hair, releasing it from the loose bun, and watch the red strands come free. She hums and kisses your shoulder.

Her hand dips under your dress, traveling upwards until her fingers reach your stomach. She touches it, tentatively, before fumbling with your underwear. You let out a sound of approval, head dropping onto the mattress.

"This baby better not change anything", Natasha says, bunching up your dress around your waist.

"Change what?", you ask lazily.

"This. Us." She leans down and kisses your thigh. "You know what I mean."

"I truly don't."

She palms herself through her sweatpants, her eyes shooting you an unimpressed look. "You can't be that dense. Jesus Christ, my child is going to be a moron."

You scoff and flick her shoulder, but there's a faint smirk on your face. This is good. This is safe, familiar. "Can't believe I let you knock me up."

Natasha smiles. For a split second, her fingers twitch against your lower stomach before she focuses on pulling your underwear down. As if on instinct, she reaches for the condom in the pocket of her sweatpants, but then pauses. She glances at you. A look is exchanged, and you both start laughing.

It's slow, this time. Slow and lazy, unhurried. Your earlier 'fight' scared Clint off, so he doesn't even interrupt you. Neither of you is sure what's coming next, but in that moment, it doesn't matter.

. . .

By the way Natasha is staring at the screen, you'd think she's seeing an alien.

Truthfully, it might be one. You're not sure. All you know is that the white blob does not resemble a human in the slightest.

You glance at the ob-gyn, who seems unfazed. She keeps moving the transducer over your gel-slicked stomach, making the image on the screen waver. Finally, she stops and hits a button. The image freezes.

You squint at the screen. A blob. A vaguely human-shaped blob, maybe, but still a blob.

"There's the baby."

You look at Natasha. She raises her eyebrows, seeming helpless. Where?, she mouths.

The doctor is used to this. She doesn't even need to ask you anything to zoom in and point again, but it only helps minimally.

"Oh, yeah", Natasha finally lies. "I see it."

"Yeah", you add, trying to avoid the ob-gyn's eyes. "It's cute."

The woman sees right through you. She smiles faintly and prints the picture for you, then she wipes your stomach down with a few paper towels. "It's fine if you don't see it", she says, throwing the towels away. "Most parents don't. Babies do look a bit deformed in the beginning."

"But it's healthy?", Natasha asks.

"Completely healthy. Don't you worry." She smiles and tugs off her nitrile gloves. "I'll be back in a minute, alright? Feel free to look at the image and play 'Where's Waldo.'"

You hum noncommittally and glance at the ultrasound picture. Still a blob.

Natasha's fingers twitch against her knee and she shifts. All of this is becoming way too real way too soon.

"It's gonna come out looking like a real person, right?", she mumbles, frowning.

"You're kidding."

"Sorry, but it looks like something you'd see under a microscope."

You grab the first thing you find — your cardigan, bunched into a ball — and toss it at her. She catches it and spreads it out over your legs.

"Nice one", she says drily. "Come on, you can't tell me that looks like a baby."

You roll your eyes and glance at the picture again, fingers brushing over the glossy surface. She's right. It doesn't even resemble something supposedly alive, let alone a human being. But it is a human being, according to the doctor, and that's all you need to know.

"Maybe it's taking its time getting cute."

"That'll take a while."

"I hate you."

. . .

Nobody knows. Not yet. But hiding it is getting harder with every day.

Basketballs bounce, shoes squeak, the air smells of sweat and gym air. You watch the ball be thrown in your direction and you catch it, then toss it aside.

It was a flirty text that led you here. You were in bed, drunk on sunlight and half-asleep, when your phone buzzed. The picture you got was one you couldn't complain about — Natasha, in front of a mirror, only wearing boxers (just slightly tugged down to reveal an additional sliver of skin) and a bra. A picture taken in the locker room of the gym, right before practice. It was enough to get you semi-conscious and shoo you out of bed.

Practice is over now, so you walk onto the court. Natasha wraps her arms around you and kisses your cheek, her hand sneakily moving to your stomach — still pretty flat, but your shirt hides the tiniest of bumps.

"You did good", you say, smiling, and cup her face. The heat is making the ends of her hair curl, and strands of baby hair stick to her sweaty temples. You scrunch your nose, brushing a damp strand of hair off her forehead. "Really good. But that last shot was...meh."

"Criticizing me?" She scoffs and presses her lips to yours. Around you, her teammates talk and grab their stuff before heading to the showers. "A little more support would be appreciated, you know."

"This is me supporting you", you point out, walking her out of the gym. "What else do you want me to do, huh? Cheer? Fetch some water?"

"I wouldn't say no to seeing you in a cheerleading uniform."

You scoff, your hands wrapping around her lower arm as you lead her across campus. Only a handful of students passes you — it's summer, and most people are either visiting their families or vacationing. Not you and Natasha, though. You're spending your free time looking for an apartment.

"You'll have to wait around 6 more months for that." You pause, quickly re-calculating. "I think. My brain isn't working the way it's supposed to."

"Nothing new", she mumbles, shooting you a smirk when you jab your elbow into her side. "Kidding, kidding."

She squeezes your waist and leads you to the campus parking lot. She's still in her jersey, all sweaty from practice, but you have an appointment for an apartment viewing soon. Actually, you've got a whole list of apartments you want to look at. Natasha is taking apartment-hunting very seriously.

Too seriously, you're starting to think. Suddenly, not only the size of the apartment and the neighborhood where it's located are important, but also a bunch of things that are, in your humble opinion, simply not relevant.

"This next one has a basketball court nearby", she says, adjusting your seatbelt for you. "Good for early practice, you know. For the kid."

You raise your eyebrows. "For our fetus?"

"Hey, never too early."

You keep your thoughts on that matter to yourself.

At the apartment, the landlord shows you around. Kitchen, living room, bathroom, two bedrooms. Everything seems to be going fine. Despite still being in a sweaty jersey, Natasha manages to make a good impression. Then, he dares ask about your current family situation. That's when the usually so composed woman starts stuttering.

"Well, engaged. I guess. I mean, not yet, but in a way. Uh...fuck. Y/N?"

You glance at her, frowning. "Engaged? Where's the ring, then?"

Natasha looks at you. The panic in her eyes almost makes you laugh.

"Are you engaged or are you not?", the landlord asks. "It's fine if you aren't. Not that important, really."

"We're not", you say. "One day, though. Or so I hope."

"Yeah, yeah", Natasha says, still stressing. "One day."

A few more apartments you look at are enough to wear you out. You collapse onto the bed in your dorm, face buried in your pillow and one leg hanging over the edge. Natasha sits next to you and squeezes your butt, smiling.

"Hey", you mutter, voice muffled.

"Hey yourself", she teases. Her hand travels lower, tickling the inner part of your thighs. You squirm and she laughs quietly. "Tired?"

"Exhausted."

"Can't blame you for that, baby." She leans in, pressing a kiss to the sliver of skin between your shirt and shorts. "Want me to order dinner?"

You glance at her, eyes lighting up with hope. "Pizza?"

"We said no junk food."

"You said no junk food."

"Think about the baby", she says, tugging at your shorts. "Mhm, you could take these off."

You snort and kick at her blindly. You manage to hit her in the ribs. She lets out a grunt and pinches your butt cheek. You roll over, one cheek reddened from the pillow, and give her a challenging look. "Ouch! Come on, I'm growing your kid. Least you can do is get me a pizza."

Her fingers trail up your spine. Before you know it, she's lying behind you with her front against your back. Pressed together from head to toe, not an inch of space separates you.

She kisses the back of your neck. Her hand rests on your stomach, rubbing gently. "You're right", she mumbles. "You've trapped me. Pizza it is."

The words trapped me make your cheeks go warm. You snuggle into her and ignore the guilt and satisfaction warring inside you. This is something she'll find out about one day. Maybe. But right now, you're too happy in your little bubble to make it pop.

"I want garlic bread, too."

"So demanding." She hums and dips her hand into the front of your shorts. Her bulge presses against your butt. "How hungry are you, exactly?"

You whine softly. With the pregnancy making your body overly sensitive, every little touch sends sparks of want through you. Heat pools in your lower belly and you shift, grinding against her. She hums, her fingers tugging at the waistband of your shorts. White lace is revealed, and she moans.

"Really hungry, actually", you mumble, squirming. "But I'm willing to wait."

"Thank god", she says, peppering your shoulder with kisses. "I was considering jerking off in the bathroom otherwise."

"Gross."

"Love you too."

Natasha somehow manages to place the order. It's difficult, though, especially when you roll over. One leg hooked over her waist, she whines and rocks her hips against yours pathetically. You laugh and then moan, feeling her hard-on nudge all the right spots.

You bury your face in her neck and place kisses until her entire neck is covered in lipstick. Finally, she tosses her phone aside. You both ignore the sound of your roommate's lamp crashing to the ground and instead focus on each other.

. . .

Natasha was never one to get easily distracted by an audience.

Now that there's a tiny viewer in the stands, though, that has changed.

Niko is barely old enough to stay awake for longer than two hours, but that doesn't mean he can't go to his mom's basketball games and watch. One hand wrapped around your finger and earmuffs that look way too big on him, he's undeniably the star of the stands.

You thought he'd be a tiny you. As it turned out, Natasha's genes are a little too stubborn for that. His eyes are still baby-blue, but the redness of his hair is unmistakable. Paired with the matching jersey he's sporting, you feel like you're carrying a much smaller version of her around.

You ignore the looks and the delighted whispers. As always, your focus is on Natasha. That's something that, even now that you have a baby, never changed. It's her game. She's the important one here.

You watch her dribble the ball as she scans the court. Focus unwavering, she dodges a defender and leaves them stunned. With one leap, she soars into the air and lets the ball swish through the net.

Not too long ago, you would've jumped up and cheered. But you don't want to jostle the baby too much, so you settle for clapping awkwardly while holding Niko in one arm.

Natasha turns, eyes glistening, and spots you in the crowd. You take Niko's hand and make him wave at her. Her smile only widens.

Minutes later, the buzzer sounds. Another victory.

Natasha comes rushing to the stands before anyone can even attempt to congratulate her. She helps you over the barricade, then takes off her jersey to hand it to you. The piece of fabric is swapped for the baby, who clings to her like a little koala.

"Did you see that?", she asks, breathless, and pats Niko's back when he starts fussing. "What a shot!"

You nod, laughing, and kiss her cheek. Sweaty as always. And, also as always, you don't find it in you to care.

"I did", you say, putting on her jersey. "Much better than in that first halftime, babe."

"Yeah?" She looks at the baby. He's still fussy, one hand grasping at her shoulder. "What about you, bud? You like it?"

"Didn't even cry once", you say, brushing your fingers over his tuft of hair. "Which is a miracle."

"It definitely is."

You linger by the barricade, talking and smiling, exchanging quick kisses. Natasha's teammates approach you to ask whether you want to go out and celebrate, but you decline. They leave, buzzing with joy, only for a few girls to introduce themselves to Natasha.

This time, all they get is a brief smile. She kisses Niko's cheek and leads you away from the court, away from the crowds, away from the noise.

"Not gonna stay and talk a bit more?", you tease. It's surprising, how much has changed. Her habit to flirt excessively seems to be gone. It's something you're thankful for — having to fight her about that was tiring.

Natasha shakes her head. You walk through a hallway, sneakers squeaking on the floor, and turn a corner. The locker room is empty when you enter it.

"Nah", she says, sitting down on a bench. She gently takes the earmuffs off Niko's head and watches him yawn. "I'd rather get home. He looks tired."

"He is, yeah."

"You're tired, too", she points out. You tilt your head and smile faintly.

"And here I thought I applied enough makeup."

"Don't worry, you're gorgeous. But you also look tired."

No point in denying that. Niko is merely four months old, and he's far from sleeping through the night. In addition, Natasha is unable to get up most nights, since practice and the games are demanding. She tries her best to juggle college, basketball, and an infant.

"Fine", you admit. "He kept me up all night. But I'm okay, I swear."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. I'd look more put together, but you try applying lipstick while holding a squirming baby."

Natasha laughs and reaches up to take your hand. You're on her lap before you know it, nestled against Niko. She kisses your shoulder.

"You look put together", she assures you. "Tired, but put together."

You smile and lean into her. Her arm is strong around your waist, biceps swollen and veins popping, and you turn your head to kiss her cheek.

"All for you", you mumble. Then, you tap Niko's nose. "This' all for you, too."

"Oh, I know." Natasha nuzzles her face against your shoulder. "Lucky me. Lucky you. We're all lucky."

Lucky you, indeed.

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Love Triangle from Hell (1)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Nancy is with Jonathan; Steve is still in love with Nancy; You're in love with Steve; Eddie's in love with you; Robin just wanted to have a movie night but everyone is making it weird.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; angst angst angsty angst; drinking; Robin literally just trying to live her life but her friends are all idiots

A/N: I'm going to let y'all decide who our reader ends up with for this one- please let me know who you think our reader should pick! I think this will be another 5 part series. Please let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs and hitting up my asks are always so so so appreciated.

This series with be 18+ in later chapters MINORS DNI

It was always Nancy. No matter what it always came back to Nancy. It happened over and over and over like a broken record. Like a glutton for punishment, you always went back for more thinking to yourself this time it’s going to be different. Squished on the lumpy loveseat with Robin, you watch Steve as he watches Nancy. You were pathetic and you knew it. Hopelessly in love with someone who’d never in a million years look at you the way he’s looking at her.

Eddie sits on the floor between your legs with his back rested against the front of the couch as you aimlessly braid his hair. You run your fingers through his hair, carefully navigating through the tangles. You pull strains and weave them together without needing to think about it- you’ve done it a million times before. Eddie would let you do whatever you wanted, he loved the feeling of your hands in his hair. He’d lean his head back as far as he could manage, and shoot you an upside down smile. It always made you giggle before you would use your palm to gently put his head back into place. 

It was quite a sight for Robin, like the most fucked daytime drama never written, if she knew how to read the room and pick up on the very obvious clues before her. Steve, her platonic soulmate and best friend, pining over his ex-girlfriend while you, her other best friend, pine over Steve and all the while Eddie, Steve’s roommate and your other best friend, pines over you. It was enough to make her sick. All the while, Nancy is completely oblivious as she checks her watch, waiting expectantly for Jonathan- her actual boyfriend- to arrive. Despite the mess before her, Robin was none the wiser. 

She knew Steve was still hung up on Nancy, because he never shut up about her during their shifts. However, you felt you kept your lovesick crush on Steve under pretty good wraps. Unfortunately, Eddie was so preoccupied with you that he felt it every time your eyes were on Steve or he’d witnessed all the small things you’d do that convinced him you actually liked Steve. 

He’d watch as you couldn’t make eye contact with Steve, looking everywhere but him when he spoke. He’d watch the way you’d steal glances at him when you thought no one else was looking. He’d see the way you’d take a deep breath to compose yourself when you’d see Steve looking at Nancy. The same way you’d break your own heart looking around for Steve, he’d be doing the same looking at you watching him. 

You’d watched one too many movies where the guy realizes the right girl all along was his best friend. You thought if you were patient, Steve would realize he’d been in love with you the whole time and he never realized it. If you’re there for him in his times of heartbreak, he’d see that you’re so much better for him than anyone else. He’d see you, really see you, and know you were the one who was always there. 

“This movie doesn’t make any sense,” Robin said suddenly before reaching for the bowl of popcorn at the coffee table.

“Anthony Michael Hall is making a robot girlfriend because he can’t get girls,” Steve explains, coming off a little perturbed that Robin was talking during the movie again. 

“They could’ve just asked out a couple of more girls- they didn’t need to let their end all be all be two girls with boyfriends,” she continues and Steve scoffs. He couldn’t believe he was really about to have a debate on realism with Robin right now over fucking Weird Science. 

“This’ll actually happen one day,” Eddie muses and is met with four heads whipping around to give him the same weird look. “You’re telling me that like fifty years from now, no one will have this figured out? AV geeks are desperate enough- Ow!” You’d hit him playfully on the back of the head. 

“You’re not one to criticize anyone for being desperate, Munson,” Steve chuckles and Eddie promptly flips him off. “You don’t exactly have them lining up for you either.”

“It’s been a pretty dry few years yourself King Steve,” Eddie mocks, and you see Steve crack his knuckles nervously, hating the conversation going down this road. No one meant for it to happen, but now you’re all wrapped up reflecting in your own loneliness that the mood of the evening was almost completely dampened. 

“Can you guys be quiet,” Nancy chastises, “Some of us are trying to actually watch the movie.”

“You cannot be serious?” Robin giggles, “It’s a stupid movie, Nance.” 

The night took a weird shift. Jonathan did eventually stroll in and Nancy was understandably hurt that he was so late. He pulled a kitchen chair over to sit next to where Nancy sat but she promptly decided to ignore him, silently stewing instead of causing a scene. Steve recoiled back into his own head- Eddie’s King Steve comment affecting him more than he thought it would. He watched Anthony Michael Hall and kept wondering if this would be his fate- no bitches. Had he really been that guy to have peaked in high school and then is destined to end up alone?

Steve’s comment towards Eddie made him also get lost in his own stream of self deprecating thoughts. He knew Steve was joking- but there was truth to it that made it sting. Eddie didn’t have a lot of experience with girls, most girls- hell including the one he was actually in love with- wanted really nothing to do with him. He wasn’t that guy. Girls didn’t look at him like that like they looked at Steve- how you looked at Steve. It made him jealous and sad and made him feel so painstakingly lonely despite being in a room full of his closest friends as you played with his hair. He could scream. 

And as usual, you preoccupied yourself with Steve- thinking about what Steve could be thinking about or watching the way Steve anxiously rubbed his palms against his jeans. Was Steve thinking about Nancy? Maybe, just maybe, you could catch him looking at you, even if just once. Maybe Steve would get up and go to the kitchen, and it could be an opening for you to check in with him since he’s seemed off tonight. You felt hopeless. 

Robin just assumed most people were quiet because they genuinely were watching the movie, but she realized something was wrong when she was the only person laughing. It couldn’t be that she was the only one who wanted to crack jokes or laugh at this godforsaken movie. She eventually caught on to something brewing in the air amongst her friends and it was incredibly unsettling. 

“GOD! I can’t take it anymore!” She exclaims, and everyone jumps. “What is wrong with everybody tonight? You all are acting so effing weird and I can’t stand it.” 

“Everyone’s fine, Robin,” you offer, trying to diffuse the tension. She shooks you a look. A “do you think I’m fucking stupid” look that could kill. Fair enough, you think to yourself. 

“Clearly something is wrong,” she reiterates. Annoyed with Nancy, Jonathan takes the bait and casts the first stone. 

“I don’t know,” Jonathan muses, looking at Nancy before letting out his irritation, “Might have to do with the fact you hang around with your ex all the time- and it’s clearly obvious he still has feelings for you.” 

Nancy gasps, offended that Jonathan would bring a fight that they’d had before into the room for everyone to comment on. Jonathan knew how Steve felt, and Nancy’s refusal to acknowledge his concerns on numerous occasions has finally made Jonathan hit his breaking point. He needed her to realize that he wasn’t jealous of Steve- but Steve was jealous of him. Nancy denied that Steve still held feelings for her. She was actually oblivious. 

“Steve and I are just friends!” Nancy insists, “I have told you that and told you that! It’s like you don’t trust me!”

“I don’t trust him!” Jonathan emphasizes. “Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, he still likes you and you still keep hanging around with him when you’re supposed to be with me, Nance.”

“I am with you! I’m your girlfriend, not his,” she snaps. “Steve, come on, please tell him he’s being ridiculous.” 

Most unfortunately, Steve stutters. He hesitates and fumbles, and couldn’t lie fast enough. The pregnant seconds where he’s at a loss for words tells Jonathan everything he needs to know. It doesn’t feel good to know he was right. 

“Sounds about right,” Jonathan scoffs.

“It’s not her fault-” Steve tried to interject. 

“Stay out of it Steve,” Jonathan sighs, “please.”

This fight was not about Steve, and everyone knew it. This was about Jonathan, and the way he hurt when Nancy dismissed his feelings. It was about how she didn’t take his concerns seriously or ever was willing to talk about it. He was sick of being dismissed as paranoid or jealous. He knew Nancy had no idea how Steve felt, but it wasn’t an excuse to inadvertently gaslight him when he knew something felt off. 

“I’m going home,” Nancy says, sitting up suddenly in hopes of making a swift exit to save her pride. 

“Nope!” Robin interjects, “We aren’t done. I’m not letting any of you leave until all of it is out in the open. I can’t go on like this. You guys are my best friends and we are working all of this shit out.” She takes a steady breath and Nancy surprisingly sits back down calmly. “So props to Jonathan for getting the ball rolling,” Robin quips, “let’s actually keep talking things out, yeah?”

“Steve?” Nancy looks at him, and she looks hurt. She feels so betrayed- like all of the times they’ve spent together as friends has been a lie. A ruse to win her back- she feels lied to and like she’s simultaneously lost a friend in the same breath. It guts her. She’s too stunned to even know what to say. 

Steve keeps his head down, too ashamed to look at anyone. He holds his head in his hands. You watch him intently, you absorb all his hurt like a sponge. You keep your gaze on him, wanting to reach out and comfort him. You look like a puppy who's been hit on the nose with a newspaper and Eddie scoffs. 

“Something you’d like to share with the class, Munson?” Robin turns, picking up on Eddie’s disgust. He shakes his head and avoids her knowing gaze. Fuck it, he thinks to himself. 

“I’m fucking pissed,” Eddie announces, standing up. The braid you were in the process of making slowly unravels as he moves. He looks to you and then to Steve. “I’m not even pissed at anyone, I’m just stewing in my own self-hatred because I’m in love with her.” Eddie points to you dramatically, not even realizing how much he’s revealing as his emotions get the best of him. “But she’s so in love with you,” Eddie points a finger at Steve, “That she doesn’t even notice me.”

“I don’t even blame anyone- of course you love Steve, you know? It just fucking sucks because I watch you and you’re always watching him and you keep hoping he’s going to see you and he never does. Meanwhile, I’m so in love with you that it physically hurts and I can never tell you because you’re my best friend and Steve is my best friend. And if you like her back, Steve, you should go for it. I can’t even put myself out there cause scenario one, I lose you,” Eddie gestures to you. “Scenario two- Steve gets his head out of his ass and you two finally get together. I lose both of you, because I can’t put myself through watching someone I’m in love with be with someone else. Or scenario three- you and I do get together and I’m all in- I swear to god, I would be all fucking in. But would you ever even love me as much as you’ve loved him? I don’t know.” 

It’s your turn to be stunned. For the first time, Steve’s looking at you and it’s not at all what you hoped it would be. You recognize the look in his eye, it’s the same way Nancy was just looking at him. Pity. You know then and there that Steve never once thought about you the way you hoped he secretly did. It was all made up in your head. Eddie looks defeated, and mortified all at the same time. He shocked himself at his outburst. He’d always been one for dramatics but never at your expense. He feels so guilt ridden that he could shrivel up and let the world swallow him whole. 

“I, uh, need to get some air,” you say. You grab your jacket from the hook and slide on your shoes in one fluid motion. “I’ll be back,” you say quickly, slamming the door behind you as you left Eddie and Steve’s apartment. You can’t help as the tears stream down your face uncontrollably. It’s one of those cries where it’s so hard you can’t even make noise as it takes all of your breath away. You’re practically doubled over in the midst of a panic attack when Eddie finds you leaning against the building. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he says earnestly, “That was so fucked up. I am so, so sorry. That wasn’t fair to you, that was such a shitty thing for me to say.” 

You manage to nod to let him know you heard him, but you’re blubbering and you’re still struggling to get your breath back. Hiccuped breaths finally catch up to you and you feel your lungs slowly begin to refill with air. The night’s cold air helps to clear your sinuses in one big breath. You wipe your face with the sleeves of your jacket. You can’t bring yourself to look at him just yet. 

“Steve is so lucky,” Eddie says after another few moments of silence. “To be loved by you?” He chuckles, taking a lean on the wall next to you. “Lucky bastard,” he jokes, and you manage a forced smile through the tears. “Must be the best damn thing in the whole world and he doesn’t even realize it,” he continues more seriously. “Well, until now, when I ruined everything,” he finalizes, sheepishly. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it either,” you mumble, “God, what Steve was doing to me- I was doing to you? Fuck.” 

“Fucked up, right?” he teases. “How’s it feel, heartbreaker?”

“Really, really shitty,” you settle on and he laughs. 

“Yup,” he agrees, making a pop sound at the end. “Really, really shitty. Indeed.” 

“God, I wasted so much fucking time,” you admit to yourself. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he says softly, helping fix the collar of your jacket. It was tucked in because you put it on so fast and didn’t bother to fix it. “That I wouldn’t be able to trust you with Steve or whatever if we hypothetically got together or whatever- it was just a really, really ugly insecurity that bubbled up. If after this all blows over and you don’t completely hate my guts, and maybe by some miracle you wanted to give us a chance, I wouldn’t hold your feelings for Steve over you like that.” 

“Did you mean it that I’d lose you?” you ask, looking to him. He shakes his head. 

“I was talking out of my ass,” he admits, “I was emotional and just letting my frustration get the better of me. I won’t stop being your friend if you don’t like me back.”

“I’ve been doing that already,” he jokes and you swat his arm. 

“Not funny,” you grumble, but you can’t find it in you to actually be upset. 

“I don’t want an answer from you now,” he says, shifting back to a serious tone, but you can hear how nervous he is. “But if and when you get over Steve, and you realize I’m not that bad to look at- maybe you and I could go out sometime. I’m putting the ball in your court. I just want you to be happy. If you end up with Steve, I’m your best man. You end up with me, I’ll work my hardest every damn day to make you so fucking happy. No matter what, I will be your friend. You aren’t losing me.”

“Thank you,” you smile, and you pull him into a hug. You finally start to feel okay again. You feel like you could get over Steve, but then you remember that everyone inside is waiting for you- including Steve. The anxiety begins to stir and you can’t imagine facing everyone now after all of this. 

“I got you,” Eddie whispers, taking your hand, “We’ll go back together.” 

Eddie’s held your hand a million times before, but it wasn’t until now that you realize how well your hand fits in his. You shake your head to erase the thought from your mind for now and try to relax. The walk back up to the apartment is much longer than it’s ever felt before.

No one says anything when you both come back. You and Eddie kick off your shoes and he helps you take your jacket off. You sniffle, and quickly take your seat back on the loveseat. Eddie slips into the kitchen and grabs a six pack from the fridge. He holds it up like a fish he’s just caught triumphantly. 

“I think we all need one, yeah?” He jokes and he diffuses the tension as everyone agrees in tandem. He pulls them apart from the plastic ring, tossing them out. He throws you a wink when he tosses you yours and you can’t help but smile. 

“Can I just say,” Robin says, “Had I known you all were upset about actually serious stuff- I wouldn’t have opened this can of worms. I thought you were just pissed at each other about the comments about not getting laid.”

Nancy and Jonathan must have made up while you were outside because instead of separate seats, Jonathan sat on the living room chair and Nancy was perched on his lap. Steve was just watching you. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that Nancy was there. He was fixated on looking at you. He was taking in everything about you like he was looking at you, really looking at you for the first time. 

Fuck, if you weren’t beautiful, Steve thinks. He always knew you were, but he never really thought about it until now. Even after crying, you just look so pretty. He’s pained knowing he’s caused you so much pain. He looks to Eddie and feels jealousy rise irrationally. He’s jealous of Eddie for realizing how perfect you were before he did. It’s so fucking petty and he knows it. Eddie’s had all this time to adore you, while he’s squandered it following around Nancy like a simp. He’s loved you and lost you in the same fucking night.

“Let’s keep going,” Eddie jokes, trying to make light of the situation, “Air out more grievances- Buckley, you need new shoes. Those fucking chucks are abhorrent- please, get new ones. They are why your back hurts all the time.” 

“Okay, Mr. Same White Reeboks Since Senior Year,” she taunts, feigning offense to his jab. “Keep my converse out of your mouth!”

“I have boots now,” he says, pointing to the leather boots by the door. “Much more metal.” 

“Cause it’s fucking January, Eddie,” Robin says with a laugh, “Of course you’re wearing fucking boots.”

“Yet you strolled into my house wearing Converse,” he says walking over the the floor and pointing at Robin’s worse for wear Chuck Taylors. “It was snowing this morning, Robin! Please, as your friend- please let ME get you new shoes.”

“You can pry those shoes off of me when I’m dead,” she raises her voice. The lighthearted air has returned to the evening. It felt like it had been salvaged for now. Everyone seemed to be feeling better, except Steve. As the world began to pick up again, he was paralyzed- burdened with the knowledge of your feelings for him and knowing he might be too late to do anything about it. Was it?

PART TWO

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hey I was reading your X-men posts and I just had an idea and if it is possible for you can you write about reader was with Bucky or Steve or both (your choice) but they break her heart and she finds love again with Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) or Eric Lehnsherr (Michael Fassbender) or both (again your choice) and protect her from Steve/Bucky 😅❤️

hi honey! thank you for requesting this, I hope you like what I've written!

summary - love can be deceiving especially with the wrong person, but it's so much more when it's with the right person.

warning - cheating? angst, word whore is used, insecurities, small violence.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips (deactivated)

Bucky Barnes had been your light since the day The Avengers found you. He had been the one to comfort you when the nightmares would become too much, the one to love you like you’ve never been loved before. So why did it feel like your heart was being ripped out of your chest as you heard him talking to his friends. Why did it feel like the opposite of love?

“I’m so sick of Y/n being attached to me all of the time! And does she really think I love her?! Has she seen herself lately? She’s no Nat or Sharon. She’s just her, plain.” Bucky groans, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his beer. “Oh, did I tell you that I hooked up with a smoking hot babe last night?” He smirks. “Man could she bend.”

You suck in a breath quietly, not wanting to be heard and also struggling to hold back your pain. You walk back to your room, quickly packing your things and disappearing into the night. You knew it was too good to be true, not once in your life had anything ever turned out good. You always seemed to end up with the short end of the stick. You had nowhere to go, a bag in your hand and the moon shining down on you. You felt stupid, you should’ve stayed, found a place before you left. 

You decided to walk a few blocks, taking a random train, wanting to distance yourself. You had turned your phone off and threw it away at the first sight of Bucky calling you. You couldn’t turn back now, too busy with your head down, looking at the ground you manage to bump into someone. Your bag falling from your hands, hitting the floor with a thump. “I–I’m so sorry!” You go to kneel but stop when you notice your bag floating in the air. 

“It’s not safe for a pretty girl to be out this late. You don’t know who you might end up bumping into.” You blink, your eyes connecting with blue. The random man hums, “Ah, Y/n L/n. What are you doing so far from home? Don’t you know you have many people looking for you? Some good, some bad.” 

You shrug, “I don’t care…” You wipe your cheeks, ensuring there are no tear marks on them. “Who are you?” 

The unknown man stares, face like stone. Reminding you so much of the man you just left. “And here I thought I made a reputation for myself.” He studies you, “Erik Lehnsherr, but I also go by Magneto.” 

You nod. “It’s nice to meet you. If you excuse me, I have somewhere to be…” You lie, you recognise the name, you knew of the people he used to hang around before he fully embraced his dark side. You couldn’t have him handing you back out of spite, you didn’t want to go back. Not after what you heard. 

Erik’s hand flies out, gripping your arm softly. “No, you don’t. But I’m not a total monster, I won’t let a pretty girl like you stay out on the streets all night. God knows what will happen.” He begins to pull you along, ignoring your protests. “Be quiet, don’t make me regret being kind.” 

Your mouth falls open as you stand in front of the X-Mansion, beginning to feel uncomfortable as you realise these people may judge you. You weren’t a mutant, you were a freak, an unloved freak. “I–I can’t stay here!”

“Why not?” Erik looks down at you, “Oh, are you one of those vampires that need inviting in?”

You look up at him with your head tilted, “Huh? What… No. I just, these people are… and I’m me… Plain…” You begin to play with your fingers.

“Hmm, whoever said that should get their eyes checked. Now come. I’m sure Charles is awaiting our arrival.” Instead of dragging you by the arm, he moves his hand and opens it, waiting for you to slip yours into his. 

Months had passed since you had bumped into Erik, Charles had accepted you into their family, proving to you that you were one of them. Erik had come and gone many of times since he had taken you here, and each time you began to dread when he had to leave again. Your relationship with him was okay, it had begun quite stiff and slowly blossomed into a friendship, the only issue is you fell for him. But you knew you weren’t good enough for a man like Erik, Bucky had proved that. 

Today you were excited though, Erik was coming back, and you had decided to wear your favourite dress, remembering the first time you had worn it, and he couldn’t stop staring at it. Deep down your insecurities were saying it’s because he hated the dress and was wondering how someone like you could ruin a pretty piece of clothing by wearing it, but another part of you had hoped it was the opposite, that he liked your dress.

You walk out of your room, smoothing out your dress as you begin to head to the door where you hear voices. A smile forms on your face, ready to see Erik again. You enter the room and your smile falls, he had finally found you. You didn’t want to face him, he was the reason you didn’t think you were good enough anymore. 

‘Y/n, I don’t want you to think I invited him, I tried to stop him, but I cannot do much unless I control someone’s mind and you understand why I didn’t, right?’ Charles speaks into your mind, your eyes connect with his and you nod.

“This is where you’ve been this whole time?! Do you know how worried we were?! How could you be so stupid!!” Bucky growls, moving closer. It’s as though you up and leaving him had struck a nerve, but you don’t know why, he didn’t love you like you did him. 

You hated yourself in this moment, you wanted to stand up for yourself and show him that his words didn’t hurt, but everything was coming back, and you couldn’t move or speak. “I–I…” 

“Take one step closer to her and I’ll shove that arm of yours down your throat.” A voice speaks from behind you, Erik steps out from the shadows, moving closer to you. His hand rests on your lower back, calming you down when you didn’t even know you needed to be calm. 

Bucky spins his arm, glaring. “Who are you?” His eyes fall to where Erik’s hand rests before he looks at you. “Is this why you ran off? Because you’re a whore?” Bucky steps forward, ignoring Erik’s warning causing Bucky to let out a cry of pain as his arm begins to get crushed.

“I warned you to not step closer to her. Yet you ignored that and insulted her.” He moves in front of you, pulling you to stay behind him. “Charles may have not wanted to control your mind because he’s a good guy, but I’m not.” With a flick of his hand, Bucky rises and gets thrown through the door. Erik stalks forward and glares at him. “If you ever come near Y/n again, I will kill you.” He makes sure to watch Bucky leave before he turns and walks toward you before you can even open your mouth to thank him, he grips the sides of your face and pulls you in, bringing you into a passionate kiss. 

Was this what love felt like?

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[strangersteddierthings]

February 3

rating: T

cw: none

prompt: Love is being terrified but not letting that stop you from taking a leap.

Continued from yesterday's post.

They end up on opposite sides of the alley as they wait. It's been about fifteen, twenty minutes of silence. Steve leans back against the wall, arms crossed, and he switches from staring at one end of the alley to the other. He doesn't expect the guy who attacked Eddie to just pop up but... Well, better safe than not.

Eddie sits across from him, one knee propped up, the other stretched in front of him. He hasn't looked up from his lap since he sat down.

Steve should be mad. Eddie's being a dick for no reason. He's not mad, though. He's... hurt.

He's always sort of suspected he was the problem. Eddie's been hot and cold with him since they saved the world together. He originally thought they were friends, and that Eddie's distance and anger would creep in when Steve was coming on too strong.

And, like, not for nothing, but Steve knows he attractive. He's caught Eddie looking. But that guy back in alley- Steve can't deny they look similar. If that's the type of guy trying to beat up Eddie in back alleyways, then-

Steve shakes the thought from his head. That was probably just a coincidence.

"I think it's been long enough," Eddie says, though he makes no move to stand up.

Steve pushes off the wall. He heads straight for Eddie, to offer him a hand up. Getting up is harder than getting down some days, with the scars. Eddie looks surprised, but he takes Steve's hand.

They stand for a moment, before Steve steps back. He gets about five steps away.

"Wait, Steve," Eddie says. And Steve stops. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said- any of that."

"Apology accepted," Steve says, even though it's not true right now, he knows it will be. He starts to turn around but-

"Stop! Don't- can you please not turn around? I-I got something I need to say, but I don't think I can do it to your face, man."

"What? Why?" he asks, but stays put.

"'Cause I- Can you just listen?"

Steve sighs, putting his hands on his hips and dropping his head down but he doesn't move.

There's a moment of pause, probably where Eddie's expecting verbal confirmation, but Steve stays silent. "I-I can be a dick, and I get pretty defensive-"

Steve snorts at that because, yeah. Yeah he does.

"-when, when I'm scared. And man, you fucking terrify me."

He sucks in a sharp breath. Maybe he wasn't too far off with his earlier thoughts of himself and that guy.

"And now you- you saw Michael. And, and maybe you saw enough to... see a resemblance?"

"Yeah."

"So, uh, I am- I'm fucking terrified but we both know we can't- I can't keep doing this. It's not fair to you, that I take things out on you. Especially around the things I feel. So, I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? I'm the one who- who did something to make you scared," Steve is confused. "I'm- I look like the guy who attacked you. I get it."

"Steve," Eddie sounds different, his voice is more steady. "I- I mean, yeah, he was going to throw a punch but that's not- we went into that alley together."

Well, now Steve does whip around because, "What? Like... willingly?"

Eddie cringes, but doesn't look away. "Yeah."

Furrowing his brow, Steve says, "why? I don't- if you knew he was going to hit you, why'd you go?"

Eddie laughs, but it's humorless, "he wasn't going to hit me. We were going to share a cigarette. Or, like, I thought we left for a smoke break, we'd been chatting it up at the bar and I wanted to not have to strain to hear him, but Michael thought that was me using 'have a smoke' as an innuendo. He didn't turn into a dick until I told him I wasn't going to blow him in broad daylight."

"Oh!" Steve is shocked, and given the confused look on Eddie's face now, he thinks his face shows his own shocked confusion.

"What did- did you think Michael was just there to beat me up?"

"Yeah! What else was I supposed to think!?" Steve doesn't- what? If Eddie... "So, you were, like, attracted to him?"

Eddie doesn't say anything. He looks almost as wired as he did the night they found him in the boat house, terrified and running on adrenaline alone, but he manages to give Steve a nod of confirmation.

"So, you're attracted to guys that... look like me?" Steve says out loud, trying to piece the puzzle together. Eddie is turning red but he nods another confirmation. "But then why aren't...." he trails off, remembering the shout that really started this conversation. 'Because it's you.'

It won't matter what Steve looks like, he realizes. Eddie just isn't attracted to him. As a whole, as a person, in general.

"Oh," Steve says again, unsure of what else to say. "I- I get it. I wouldn't- I wouldn't want me either, but, uh, thanks for like, saying it plainly. Do- Can I go, now? Or do you- I'll walk you to your van if you're still worried about Mitchell."

"Michael," Eddie corrects while just staring wide-eyed for a moment before he shakes his head and exclaims, "What? What are- What are you talking about!?"

"I- You said the problem was me!" Steve says back, trying not to raise his own voice back. "What do you mean what am I talking about!"

"What do you think this is about!?"

"That you hate me! And you've been trying to pretend you don't! Probably for Dustin's sake or something. But you don't have to! You don't have to force yourself to hang out with me."

Seems like Eddie wasn't expecting Steve to say that, it the dropped jaw looks of disbelief on his face is anything to go by.

"So, can we go now? Are we- is this done?" Steve says, bitchy.

"Steve. Steve, I don't hate you! How did- what have-" Eddie cuts himself off with a quiet 'fuck' as he looks down. Steve watches as Eddie seems to steel himself against something before he looks back up and says. "Dude, I'm like, in love with you. And I was trying so hard to hide it but I-I guess I did that. A bit too well if that's your conclusion."

Steve doesn't even know how to process that. That's not- how can that be- but Eddie said it. He looks like he might have a heart attack at any moment now, but he said it. "What?"

"Don't make me say it again, man."

"No, no I think I need you to. Because there have been so many times I thought we were flirting and it might go somewhere and then you'd- you'd suddenly be a dick again and I thought it was because I was making you uncomfortable with my flirting."

"You were flirting with me!?" Eddie screeches.

"Yes! For months! I thought you knew."

"No! If I fucking knew I wouldn't be driving to Indy when I can afford it to try and find some knock-off Steve Harrington to try and get my rocks off with!"

They both just stare at each other for a moment before Steve feels the laughter building in him, and it comes out as a high-pitched giggle that builds into full on laughter. It brings tears to his eyes and he hears Eddie's laugh joins his after a moment.

"This mean you'll quit being a dick to me all the time?" Steve asks, once the laughter has died down.

"Well, I'm kinda a dick in general, so no," Eddie says, offering a small smile. "So, are we... okay?"

Steve pretends to think on it before saying, "yeah. We'll be okay. But, we should get back to Hawkins. And, uh, maybe you wanna come over and we can talk more? Figure this out?"

Eddie's small smile becomes blinding. "I'm following you home, Harrington. Best of luck getting rid of me now."

Steve smiles back and closes the distance between them to give Eddie a quick, teasing kiss. Eddie leans back in, but Steve stops him with a hand to his chest. "No. More talking first. I-I've started too many relationships by skipping that bit and, uh, they never last. So, home?"

Eddie grins. "Yeah. Home."

-

@steddielovemonth @nburkhardt @i-less-than-three-you @afewproblems @skepsiss

[bloodhoundluke]

for the love of strange medicine ✧ luke hemmings

pairing: luke hemmings x friend! reader

description: luke loves y/n in secret and his flirty comments make y/n's head spin. after calum's party, y/n finally gets an answer to luke's strange behavior.

warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing. please let me know if there’s anything else.

word count: 2,7k. a/n: hi there! this won the poll, the title was supposed to be 'it's impossible to ignore you' but i like for the love of strange medicine more :) i'm a bit rusty so please forgive me <33 and because i loved writing this so much, i think i'll do a pt. 2 to this!

The Californian sky was covered in haze that one Thursday. Luke stared at the cafe arguably named after a Steve Perry song: For the Love of Strange Medicine. It was fitting since Luke basically considered coffee to be his medicine, not to mention the delicious pretzels he had bought from the very same cafe a few days ago.

Luke rubbed his eyes and yawned, taking in the last smokes of the cigarette he had been inhaling on for the last three minutes. He swore to himself that it would be the last day he'd smoke. It wasn't. He pulled his phone out: 6:58am. He hated early mornings, and he hated how the cafe still wasn't open. Two more minutes, he told himself. He was growing impatient. Maybe it was the stress of recording a new album, maybe it was the fight he had with the manager last night.

When the clock hit 7am, you opened up the cafe. You gave Luke a soft yet tiresome smile which screamed It’s too damn early for this and he returned the favor. Luke saw the name tag on your black t-shirt: Y/N.

As time went by, Luke visited the cafe several times in an attempt to see your face again. To his misfortune, you weren’t working during any of those shifts. You had cut down your hours because of the intense lecture schedule. Luckily for Luke, you bumped into each other at a local festival while you both were watching Green Day play.

Your and Luke's friend groups emerged that night and you enjoyed his company too much for your own liking. You didn’t do men. You didn’t hang around them. Not even as friends. They all caused trouble for you. But with him, everything was different somehow. The night ended with you and Luke in your hotel room. There was nothing sexual about that night if not counting your lingering gazes at each other. You and Luke stayed up until seven in the morning, sharing your love of Green Day and Stranger Things, and talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

Luke and you started to grow closer since spending time together. It had been nearly 3 months since you had met and you felt as if you've known him for your whole life. Then Luke went on tour and he didn't want to believe he couldn't see your face as frequently anymore. You made him feel seen and most importantly, safe.

One time Ashton, Calum and Michael caught Luke looking at your Instagram pictures before a show. The boys couldn’t let it go and stop teasing about the way he was biting his lip nervously while scrolling through your Instagram page. Luke convinced them there was nothing to tease about. You were just friends, and that’s the way it would always be. Your lives were so different from each other; you, a part-time barista and a university student and Luke, a touring rockstar. It could never work.

You tried to forget your feelings for your friend, you really did. But you couldn't. Every corner of your flat and everyone you met reminded you of Luke. Even if it was someone’s blonde hair or a tiny detail in their jacket. Everyday activities such as going grocery shopping which you normally enjoyed couldn’t get him off your mind. You’d see the Australian-grown coffee beans. Boom, Luke. Lavender-scented laundry detergent he used. Luke again. And the fact that Luke texted you every day didn't help in the process of trying to forget the feelings you had for him.

—❦

You were attending a party tonight. But not just any party, Calum's party. His parties were known for a good time and endless bottles of free booze.

You wiggled on your black leather dress, which you had just bought. It barely covered your knees and you loved how it hugged you from all the right places. The combo of the leather dress, red lipstick and curly hair gave you all the confidence you needed to go out tonight and see Luke. Yes, he was your friend but you still felt nervous around him. And you blamed him for that. His James Dean glossy eyes and irresistibly long curly hair. His charm and his stupid dad jokes. You were whipped for him and it was a wonder no one around you noticed that. Or that’s what you thought anyway. 

You recall the last time you had seen Luke. He had called you and asked to pick him up from his apartment a week ago. You knocked on his door and saw him with someone. A tall, gorgeous woman. Seeing the model-looking brunette beside Luke made your stomach flip. He seemed so happy with his arms around her waist. Maybe he had met her when he was on tour. You greeted them both and bit the insides of your cheek. That memory reminded you of the time you were helping him to pick out an outfit for him for his date a few weeks ago. Maybe it was for her. He had just returned back home from the tour and the poor man was all over the place. Maybe it was nerves, maybe he was just tired from touring. You imagined how Luke would get ready for your date and ask for assistance from Ashton, Michael and Calum. But that would never happen, so you snapped out of the thought. You were only hurting yourself by having these thoughts. You were such a fool for him, and you didn't know how to make it stop.

You sat down on top of your bed and decided to check Instagram on your phone. “He’s so pretty I think I’m gonna faint”, you whispered mainly just to yourself. 

“Who are you talking about?”, your friend heard your little comment and frowned their eyebrows.

“Uh….maybe I’ll keep it a secret”, you winked.

“C’mon Y/N!”.

“Okay, I was talking about Timothée Chalamet. He looks so pretty”, was the lie you came up with. You couldn’t tell them you were talking about Luke. You had just seen his new Instagram photo and can’t get over his pretty blue eyes. And his curly locks. And that god-damn jawline. And his….well, everything.

“I know right! Maybe we should go watch the new movie so we’ll have some eye candy”, your friend winked.

“It’s a date”, you laughed.

You were still waiting for Luke to pick you and your two friends up. But he was late, like he always was. You had lectured him about his tendency to be late countless times. But he could never learn, could he? It was needless to say that you were pissed off. 

Twenty minutes rolled by and Luke finally showed up. He offered his apologies to you and your friends. Your friends had already gone out and got themselves seated in the car, while you and Luke were still inside of your flat. Luke needed hairspray to lock his hair in place. Then Luke made his way to the hallway while you were checking that you had everything necessary with you. That one time you forgot your keys back home still haunted you, hence you had to double-check everything now.

“You got everything?”, Luke held the door open for you and the button of his already opened black and white star-patterned collar shirt popped off. “Oops”, he chuckled to himself. He didn’t bother to fix it. Not when he noticed you basically drooling over him. 

“Yeah”, you answered nonchalantly and avoided eye contact with him. You had been on the edge the whole day and Luke being late didn’t exactly make you feel any better.

“I hate that you’re mad at me, but you look so hot right now”, he smirked at you. Luke was always like this with you. He flirted with you and you flirted back when it felt natural. But since he started to hang around the brunette woman - whose name you didn’t even know - you started to think that maybe you should stop flirting back. But you didn’t know if they were exclusive or not. Luke didn’t exactly bother to open up about the romance department in his life. Not to you anyway. 

“Thanks. I like your hair”, you commented. You noted how he saw you fiddling with your bracelet. It was the one Luke won from Push A Prize that one Saturday night in July. Its pearls were your favorite color, blue.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too long?”.

“I think it’s good”.

“Just good? Don’t you mean gorgeous? Perfect?”, the blonde rockstar snarked.

“Shut up”, you slapped his hand gently and giggled.

"You okay?", he asked quietly as you were still fiddling with the bracelet.

"Yep, let's go", you gave Luke a small smile and received a nod in return. You took the passenger seat and he sat next to you and fired the engine.

“Took long enough”, one of your friends commented. “Blame Luke and his Prince Charming hair”, you rolled your eyes and looked at your friends in the backseat, and then at the man beside you.

"Geez, thanks for throwing me under the bus", Luke answered sarcastically, tapped the steering wheel with his fingers and turned the music up. Nickelback, of course.

You arrived at Calum’s house. You were walking side to side with the blondie, hand in hand. It was natural. You gravitated towards each other all the time, but you took it as a sign that you felt comfortable with him. Not just anyone could make you feel this way. 

“We’re in public, you know that right?”, you asked him as he was still holding your hand. You couldn't even count the times people mistook you for a couple, and doing these kinds of things that could be seen as couple-y felt a bit odd for you sometimes.

“Yup”, he popped the p and offered you a cheeky grin.

“So why are you still holding my hand?”, you genuinely asked Luke whose eyes were fixated on the crowd of people mingling.

“Don’t want you to get lost. I know you’re bad at taking directions”, he smirked and saw you looking at him with a questionable look. Those words sounded like honey and you hated yourself for it. Oh, only if he wasn’t as charming as he was. It would make everything so much easier for you.

“Right”, you laughed it off and rolled your eyes. It’s not like you haven’t been to Calum’s house a million times before…

“You should wear that dress more often”, he cooed confidently into your ear and let go of your hand. 

“Okay, Mr. Leather Pants”, you laughed and avoided his eye contact. You disappeared into the sea of people and fixed yourself a drink. You didn't really know what to think about Luke's behavior. He was flirtier than usual and you couldn't pinpoint why. The next few hours were spent by dancing with your friends and having conversations with drunken strangers.

—❦

Later, you noticed Luke navigating through the crowd to get to you. He spent a few minutes explaining how his leather boots got stuck in the mud in Europe while touring and how you would have laughed your ass off if you had seen that. Then, the unimaginable happened and he started spinning you around the dance floor. He had always been a fun drunk, that's for sure. He dropped you down carefully from the air and his hands laid comfortably on your waist. But not for long as the upbeat song shifted into a slow one, a shortened version of Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran. Shit.

You wrapped your hands around his neck almost intuitively. “Fuck it, let’s show them how to dance”, you lifted your left eyebrow and thought of how your hands will be sweaty in under a minute. Or twenty seconds, if you were being completely honest.

Luke placed his ring-covered hands, noticeably bigger than yours, back to your waist. “We’re so much better at this than these amateurs”, he looked deeply into your eyes and it felt like he scanned every little feature in your face. It felt intimidating. Being that close to Luke. Being that close with Luke.

“You should definitely consider Dancing with the Stars”, you commented and smiled as you intertwined your fingers behind his neck.

“You reckon?”, his eyes lit up and it's like you could almost see a blush creeping upon his cheeks.

“I see the UK accent has made a mark on you. Has a nice ring to it”, you confessed as you slow danced with your best friend.

“Thanks to you, ms. English Love Affair", Luke gave you a dirty look and chuckled semi-nervously afterwards.

"Oh, you wish", you replied with a nervous giggle and you two continued dancing in silence.

—❦

At 3am the party seems to die out and as usual, Luke walks you to your apartment. About half of the 15 minute walk you have talked about utter nonsense, like how many squirrels Luke saw during the tour and how many latte macchiatos you did during the time he was away.

“Can I ask you a question?", you asked as your heels clacked along the concrete.

“Sure”, Luke answers almost instantly, coughing afterwards.

“You were flirting with me the whole night and…”, you started your monologue which you had planned during the party.

“That’s not a question”, he interrupted and gave you a wink.

“Let me finish, you dumbass”, you answered, your tone being a mixture of playful and irritated.

He zipped his mouth and smiled back at you. You were standing in the front of your apartment, feeling a little cold in the chilly autumn air.

“I just wonder…why?”.

“Don’t we do that, like, all the time?”, he chuckled and stared down at his hands, then scanning your face for a while.

“I guess so, yeah. But it’s innocent. It wasn’t like that today. Or am I crazy? Am I imagining this? Please tell me it was just my imagination, I can- ”, you explained and could already feel how humiliated you'd feel soon.

“I don’t really like to tell you to shut up, but just for once, shhh Y/N. It wasn’t just you”, he took a step closer to you and placed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I like you. Definitely have for a while. Maybe the whole time I’ve known you. I like spending time with you. You are the funniest person I know. And you give the best fashion advice. And beneath that sarcastic exterior is such a soft and empathetic soul. You don’t brag about your kindness, which makes it real. And I could talk to you for hours and never get bored. And for you, I would do the dishes happily. Believe it or not, no one has ever managed to bring out that side of me”, he chuckled as you remain speechless. His sudden declaration of love - well maybe not love, interest perhaps - made you grin like a child who just got a new toy.

“And shit, Y/N, I just adore you. And the way your laugh reminds me of home. I lo-, like how you play with your earrings when you are nervous. It’s adorable. And I-”,

“I don’t need to hear a novel of how much you like me, Luke”, you interrupted him.

“I know, but you deserve it”, he spoke softly and his lips turned into the classic Luke smile, which you found incredibly sweet.

“Save it for later”, you took a long look at those eyes that reminded you of the ocean and down to his pink and plump lips which you had dreamt of kissing for so long. 

And then it happened. His lips were pressed against yours, making the time stop for a while. And his hands in your hair, tugging them slightly, not enough to hurt. Your fingers held the waistband of his pants. The way he moved his lips against yours was hungry, desperate, full of emotion he had never been able to release. It was electric, enough to make you release a little moan into his mouth.

“What the fuck is happening here?”, you heard all of the sudden and both of you turned to see none other than the Michael Clifford pressed against the door.

“And what the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”.

© 2023 bloodhoundluke.

[stevesjockstrap]

Somebody to Love

@stcreators event 04: music

Steve/Eddie • rated G • 90s, no upside down, single dad Steve • read on ao3

Eddie loathed the early shift at the record store, but Allan had moved away and the new hire was a college student who had class every morning, so Eddie had begrudgingly agreed when Chrissy had explained the situation.

He was not a morning person. But he figured since the store was usually empty in the morning, he could use the time to write music or work on his D&D campaigns. Then go home and nap.

Everything changed the day the new customer walked in. It was just after nine, and Eddie had had about four sips of coffee when the bell on the door jingled.

“Welcome to Chrissy’s Classics,” he monotoned.

“Mornin’,” the guy mumbled, giving him a nod.

He tried his best not to stare as the man walked aimlessly around the store. He looked younger than Eddie, but had more laugh and worry lines. They suited him. Showed off that he’d expressed himself a lot. He appreciated those things about people. Scars and freckles and callouses and liver spots. Those were the things that made you real, the things that showed you really lived.

The customer’s hair was hidden under a beanie, but his sideburns and the too long tufts on the back of his neck were a gorgeous and intriguing copper color.

They made sudden awkward eye contact when the man looked up and Eddie immediately ducked his head down to his notebook. His closed notebook. He heard a small snicker and he winced. Caught.

Deciding to go for broke, he cleared his throat and looked back up. “You need any help finding anything today, sir?”

The man laughed, grinning over at him. “No, I don’t think. And lose the ‘sir.’ It makes me feel ancient.”

“You’re not ancient,” he argued. If he was ancient then Eddie was already dead.

“Thanks, I’ll take that today,” the man gave him a crooked smile. He held up a record and nodded towards a listening booth. Eddie waved a hand.

That was good. Let’s him off the hook of making small talk. At least until he’d woken up a bit more.

A few minutes later, though, he almost dropped his coffee cup when he heard singing coming from the booth. Not entirely on key, but belting out George Michael without a care in the world, and it brought a smile to Eddie’s face. So new guy assumed the booths were soundproof. They definitely were not.

But over the next couple weeks this became their norm. Usually the first customer of the day, if not the only customer Eddie saw during the morning, Crinkly Eyes would show up, they’d have some pleasant small talk about the weather or a new album release that week, and he’d end up in a booth. Where he’d sing. Usually some pop hit, but sometimes going rogue and choosing The Cure or Van Halen.

While Eddie would pretend like he couldn’t hear. Secretly serenaded while he mapped out his campaigns or doodled. Tried to decide when he’d gather the courage to ask out the hot guy who didn’t know he was putting on a concert for one.

When Chrissy stopped by early to do payroll, she heard him in the booth and raised an eyebrow. Eddie shook his head pointedly at her and she’d just shrugged.

“Whatever, weirdo. Your funeral when he finds out eventually,” she’d scolded quietly as she walked back to the office.

Then on a perfectly ordinary day, Crinkly Eyes walked in with his nails painted. All different colors and what had to be glitter, the sunlight catching on it just right. Eddie couldn’t drag his eyes away, the juxtaposition of the big manly hands and the pretty nails causing his brain to malfunction.

The man blushed so prettily, too. “Oh,” he murmured. “I forgot. Um, my daughter, she- well she only has twenty of her own nails to paint. She was upset that she couldn’t use all the colors.” He raked a hand nervously through his hair.

“Looks nice, very pretty,” Eddie offered with a lopsided grin.

“Hah, thanks,” he stuck his hand out finally and introduced himself. “I’m Steve, by the way. Thanks for letting me come here like every day and annoy you. My kid, she started half day kindergarten around the corner… and I didn’t want to be far, you know, if she needed me? And I can’t stand being home alone anymore. It’s too quiet.” The man, Crinkly Eyes, Steve, realized he was rambling and pulled his lips in between his teeth. Adorably.

“Oh, yeah, of course. It’s pretty boring here in the mornings, anyways. Chrissy would probably be happier if I sold you something, but it’s fine.” He laughed at Steve’s stricken face. “Seriously, it’s cool. At least you’re dusting off the record players for me, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said a bit awkwardly.

“You should bring your artist daughter in some time. I’d love to meet her.”

“Oh? Y-yeah, that’d be okay?” He seemed to be asking a deeper question.

“I’d like it, or maybe we could do dinner just the two of us first. Before I meet the family.” He winked.

Steve sucked in a breath but recovered quickly. “Yes! I mean, yeah, uh, we could definitely do that.” His eyes crinkled up more as he smiled wide.

It wasn’t until after their dinner that he confessed to listening to him singing every day, and he’d watched mesmerized as Steve turned a brilliant red and stammered at him.

Title from the song Somebody to Love, Steve would’ve been stoked about the George Michael release.

[gurugirl]

Heya girlie!! I hope you’re having the loviest day and have been drinking plenty of water💓 cheeky nosey question? Do you have anything sitting in your drafts that you’re undecided on posting?👀 or any concepts you’ve thought of or like that you might put out soon!

OH HI! I'm having a good good day yes! Just writing and sipping some iced coffee with my dog next to me so I have no complaints. I haven't had any actual water today but iced coffee counts yeah? 😬 I hope you're also keeping hydrated and having a lovely day :)

And I love these cheeky nosy questions!! Do I have anything sitting in my drafts??? Does this answer your question? 🤭

Let's see...

Of the things in my drafts that I feel like I can talk about (buckle up, it gets wild!)

I've got another subrry that's partly done (based on this couple),

I've got an extra part to go with this but it's not finished,

I have a few requests for a bunch of things that are really similar that I didn't share because I started writing them but never finished - and still intend on getting to them,

an idea with a housesitter!yn I started cooking up based on a cute/cheesy movie from the 90s with Goldie Hawn and Steve Martin (🙈) called Housesitter.

AS WELL as another idea I started based on another 90s late 80s (just checked and this one is 1987 lol) movie with Michael J Fox called Secret of My Success (I don't know what to tell y'all, sometimes I just go off the rails and start something to make it my own and it's based on cheesy older movies but I can't help myself 😂),

military!harry x military!reader

A Don't Stand So Close check where Harry grows a bit of a mustache

a stepdad!h idea someone sent me with a lingerie shopping spree

a MFM threesome idea I've been working on FOREVER

the beginning of a part 2 to Sex Ed with Harry that never got finished

a body guard harry (but i wanted to wait bc it was at a time when there were a bunch of body guard harrys coming out and I didn't want to feel like i was competing with the other amazing authors already doing it and doing it better most likely lol

a request for harry x his wife's best friend 🫣 that I have two versions of and cannot figure out how to finish and also wanted to give y'all a break from the cheating trope for a bit

hitman!harry who's very protective of yn and she has no idea he has feelings for her (or that he's a hitman) until one day she's in trouble and he saves her 👀

dark!harry who's your bartender and winds up talking you into going home with him and things get... interesting but you wind up LOVING it - felt a lot like MCC Harry with those kidnapping vibes (even tho yn doesn't get kidnapped it felt too similar at the time so I didn't finish it)

Phew! So that's some of what I've got in there. That's not to mention what I've got in my actual Word docs drafts (that's where I have most of my WIPs and unposted, unfinished fics). Potentially I could just hit post on some of the things but uffff!!! I really prefer everything to be readable and perfect.

Is there anything on this list y'all would be interested in currently??

xoxo

[ghostofaboy]

Kinktober 2023 - October 10th

Day 10: Anal Sex, Kissing, Crying

Javier Peña x Male OC

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1106 

Warnings: anal sex, period typical homophobia (implied), tiny bit of come eating

@absurdthirst Kinktober List | Ghost of a Boy Masterlist

Javier Peña was well known around the embassy for his visits to the local brothels, in fact, it had become something of a joke in certain circles. The reason he gave everyone was mostly true. To get intel on the narcos, you had to speak to the same people they did, and for the sicarios, that meant the same girls they visited. The other part of the reason was to scratch an itch, and any red-blooded man could understand that, right?

Unless, of course, they knew about the other brothel he liked to go to. The one just outside of Bogotá. The one that had nothing to do with gathering intel and the one he knew he could never tell Steve about. The reasons for visiting that one were simple and secret.

It had been about four months since his last visit to the house. From the street, it looked like any other residence, and if someone were to knock on the door, they’d be greeted by a kindly old woman with a smile and an offer of cake. But say the right phrase to her, and she’d nod, leading you through the house to a basement door and into the actual brothel. 

That’s where Javi found himself now. Sat in the clean and cozy waiting area for his evening’s ‘companion’ to come get him. Everything here was by appointment only, and to even get in, he’d had to been brought the first time by a… friend was too strong a word. One-night stand was closer.

“You are back.” Javi looked up at the voice to see Paulo, one of the younger workers here, smiling down at him. “But you are no here to see me? I’m hurt.”

“Lo siento.” Javi smiled, his eyes raking down Paulo’s naked body. “Maybe next time.”

“You are waiting for…?”

“Por mi.” Both Javi and Paulo turned to see an older man leaning against the door frame of one of the many bedrooms. It was Michael, who sauntered over to where Javi was seated, his large cock swaying with every step. Michael was a bear of a man, tall, broader than even Javi, with a tidy, graying beard and piercing blue eyes.

“Have fun, you two.” Paulo grinned, returning to his room.

“His English is getting better.” Javi nodded his head towards Paulo’s door as he followed Michael to the bedroom.

“Kid’s a fast learner.” Michael closed the door behind them before turning to Javi. “So, what would you like to do tonight, Javier? Same as last time or are you brave enough to try something new this time?”

“I…” Javi cleared his throat. “I did what you suggested and I wanna try it. With you, I mean.”

Michael chuckled at Javi’s nerves. “You been using a plug or a dildo?”

“Started with a plug like you said, then a dildo.” Javi could feel the heat coming off Michael as the larger man stalked towards him. “I can take it.”

Michael let out another soft laugh. “Oh, I have no doubt, but I want to hear you say it. Undress for me, then ask nicely.”

As much as he wanted to tear the clothes from his skin, Javi knew better. Michael would want him to take his time, and so button by button and piece by piece, Javi removed his clothes. Eventually, he stood before Michael, now sitting on the bed admiring the view, his cock straining upwards towards his stomach.

“Much better.” Michael cooed, stroking his thick length as he raked his eyes over Javi. “Now, what would you like to do tonight?”

“I’d like you to fuck me.”

==========

Javi's body trembled as Michael continued to lazily and rhythmically roll his hips. His cock stretched Javi's ass, which had been slightly painful, to begin with, but was now a satisfying heavy weight filling him. Michael was going easy on him, and he knew it. But despite this not being what he had in mind, Javi was grateful the older, larger, and more experienced man was taking it slow.

Each thrust sent sparks through Javi's body as Michael hit that sweet spot. He'd shifted Javi onto his back after a while, claiming it would blow his mind, and he was right. With his legs up on Michael's shoulders, Javi was almost bent in two, but it did mean that every single pump of Michael's cock into his eager hole was hitting its mark.

Michael's balls swung against his ass, and the sound of smacking flesh filled the room, accompanied by moans, gasps, and occasional "fuck" from Javi. Michael poured praise down on him, checking in with every shift in tempo and urging Javi on. Javi writhed in pleasure, sweat glistening off of him as his ass swallowed Michael's cock over and over.

Then Michael shifted himself a little lower and grunted into Javi's ear. "Gonna pick this pace up now. You're doin' great. You can take it. You ready to come?"

"F-f-fuck." Javi croaked out. "Yeah."

"Good boy." Michael growled, planting a sloppy kiss on Javi's cheek before snapping his hips forward suddenly.

Picking up the pace apparently meant fucking into Javi like a jackhammer as Michael began to plunge into him quicker and quicker. The pace was frenzied, merciless, and exactly what Javi had wanted when this started. 

As goosebumps danced over his skin, Javi could feel his control slipping. Then, like falling off a cliff, Javi was hit was the most intense orgasm he'd ever had. Arching his back and letting out a wanton wail, Javi's vision faded into black as his head filled with static. Shockwaves of ecstasy rippled through him as he gripped hold of Michael for dear life.

Eventually, the stars behind his eyes disappeared and Javi slowly opened one eye to see a very sweaty but satisfied-looking Michael leaning over him. Glancing down at his own body, Javi could see the thick pool of come starting to make its way down his side from his stomach.

Pulling out gently, Michael pulled his condom off before flopping down on the bed next to Javi. Dipping his finger into the come, Michael brought it to his lips, sucking his finger clean before chuckling at the sticky mess.

"You like that?"

Javi could only nod, his boneless form plastered to the bed with sweat, he wasn't sure if he could even sit up yet. Michael laughed again, louder this time, kissing Javi's forehead before getting up.

"Let me clean you up, darling." The large man smiled, grabbing a cloth from next to the sink. "Then we can talk about whether or not you're ready to ride me."

[wannawrasslewithjayrasheed]

Shawn Michaels vs Stone Cold Steve Austin pt 2

So before I begin I must give my apologies if you were waiting on this as I've been backed up with other projects. Next I wanna give all proper credit to Wrestling Bios on YouTube, his reliving the war series made this a whole lot easier instead of having to look up various different resources to put this series together, and if you arent subscribed to his channel you can click this link here!

he reviews classic games like No Mercy, WCW/NWO Revenge, WWF Attitude and Warzone if youre nostalgic for those games. if not here we are!

So the next night on Raw after No Way Out of Texas, DX were said to be pursuing legal advice following their loss to Steve's team. The broadcast airs a vignette with Chyna and its showcasing her achievements so far...and ends with her receiving a Stone Cold Stunner at the previous nights PPV. They aren't on the show tonight..but that stunner was pretty damn funny still.

The following week on Raw, DX cut a promo from Shawn's house. Triple H mentioned that the only way for Raw to raise its rating was for them to come to Shawns house, and if they get ratings from chaos then the next 4 weeks are about to set the nielsen rating books on fire. Shawn says Owen, Steve, and Mike Tyson are due to be on Raw the next week in Cleveland and that would be a great place to start raising hell and so the best place to end it is at...YOU GUESSED IT....WRESTLEMANIA. Shawn not only confirms but guarantees the match with Steve at Mania. Triple H says to the camera that from here on out, Wrestlemania is going to be X Rated...(of course they changed it to DX rated).

The next week on RAW opens up with DX, and Triple H says "The road to Wrestlemania Begins tonight, Wrestlemania is X Raided (Rated whatever), Parents need to get their childrens permission because discretion is advised, but will be completely ignored." When Shawn takes the mic, he says DX are going to make Tyson an offer he cant refuse, and should he refuse he wont ever forget DX and thats a promise (his words not mine). He then says Steve is going to face the Showstopper, The Icon, The Main Event (you know that 97 Shawn Michaels spiel) and hes going to show that the toughest S.O.B in the WWF isn't tough enough to deal with the Heartbreak Kid. Shawn tells Steve to put on his dancing shoes because hes going to taste some Sweet Chin Music tonight..and of course Steve makes his way down to the ring and right before he gets a chance to square up with Shawn the lights go out and Kane makes his way down while Shawn and DX manage to escape...of course Steve is pissed. A lil later Tyson arrives with Shane McMahon.

Later on in the night Tyson comes down to the ring with Vince and the pre-Corporation keep in mind the crowd is booing. In the ring, Vince asks Tyson if hes going to be the enforcer or is Austin going to enforce his own rules..all questions will be answered at Wrestlemania and the crowd boos even louder (I dont blame them i wouldve booed McMahon too. Right when Mike is about to speak DX music hits and they come down to the ring. Shawn snatches the mic from Vince and says his name isnt Steve Austin and DX isnt here to disrespect Tyson as thats not their style. But they will call people out face to face. Shawn says to Tyson he should make no mistake hes looking at the WWF champ and the champ is calling him out right here right now..BOYYYYY (Yeah he really called him boy, not sure in what context but moving on) After agreeing to a throwdown, Shawn clears the ring out. Tyson dares Shawn to hit him and after a little suspense building Shawn rips his WWF Attitude shirt off to reveal a DX shirt and the crowd goes WILD.

They really werent feeling this until he was revealed i thought that was insane as a kid but getting older and seeing celebrities come in and out of the WWE. I realized why just didnt know it was going on back in 1998. But regardless, still this was great. Just this shot alone.

Before he gets in his car to leave the arena, Tyson is being hounded by Michael Cole with Cole asking Tyson about what just happened and MIke says that Stone Cold is going to get knocked out cold at Wrestlemania, he shuts the door and drives off. At the end of the night Steve was scheduled to go against Kane. While making his way down to the ring he notices Triple H standing on the stage so of course he goes after him, Shawn comes from behind out of nowhere with a Sweet Chin Music as soon as Steve turns around.

One thing I want to mention about the March 2nd episode of Raw. This was the night the scratch logo officialy made its way into the stage display, going from the simplistic curtain and titantron combo to now having an arch like structure with the logo situated right in the back...ahhh good times. This version of the logo was prototype as hell and it makes me cringe especially when you see they had a more proper version of the logo in the scaffolding on the sides of the stage, but its still history nonetheless.

The following week on the March 9th episode of Raw. Triple H comes out with Chyna and once again reminds the crowd that Wrestlemania is going to be X Raided (Rated). Talks about how Chyna got into Owens head last week and this week, she might get physical if she wanted to, he then tells the crowd Shawn isnt there and of course they boo. After cutting to a replay of last weeks Superkick to Austin, Shawn is shown in a diner. He says thst Tyson joining DX changes everything at Wrestlemania. He then says whats even sweeter than that is the fact that Shawn said last week Steve is going to taste Sweet Chin Music, he proved Steve is just like everyone who steps up to HBK. He gets dead serious when he says the old line "HBK doesnt lay down for anybody and hes certainly not going to lay down for Steve at Wrestlemania. Steve is nothing more than a fad when HBK will always be IN in the WWF... (hmm yeah we'll see about that sir). Shawn is going to knock him down and drag him out and he's going to walk out of Wrestlemania the WWF champion..and Triple H says if youre not down with that then they've got TWO WORDS FOR YA!!!! Before taking a seat at the commentary table right before Owens match.

And it seems someone who had two words for Triple H..

Annnnnd of course during Owens match with Barry Windham (Bray Wyatts namesake), Chyna gets involved and causes the DQ.

Would ya look at that face, she really put her all into that low blow didnt she?

At the end of the night Raw airs an interview with J.R and Tyson.

Mike says he is excited to be working in the WWF, but he was skeptical on how he would be received..looking back on the episode when he joined DX, he wasn't wrong but the reveal must've lead to a pleasant surprise to him with him being cheered on. J.R asks him how he feels about Austin shoving him the night after the Royal Rumble. He admits Austin pissed him off but he cant wait to get his hands on him at Wrestlemania. Jim asks him abotu his role in DX and warns that Triple H and Shawn use people to get ahead and Tyson said pretty straightforward that every body is using everybody including the guy giving the interview. Last words of the interview pertain to whether or not he will be a fair ref and Mike says life hasnt been fair to him and he ended it with "fair is winning". Its like I get where he was going but that shit went completely left. Im sure Mike knew it didnt make sense but look at that face, does it look like he cares? As long as the checks are cleared, he's good.

Now on to the main event of the night.. Triple H vs Savio Vega. Now because Austin made his threats security are heavy out there and mere fucking seconds after the bell rings...

Shoved the ref and head of security..with his old ass...WHATS THE POINT OF ELDERLY HEADS OF SECURITY BACK IN THE DAYS..(DOUG DILLINGER IM LOOKING RIGHT AT YOU). But back to the match..... STUNNERS FOR EVERYONE... and by everyone I mean Savio

And after laying almost everybody out he turns around into a big surprise...

And down goes Austin....

And Shawn almost went down too

Keep in mind his back was out of commission at this time and he wasn't supposed to be getting physical..but like the team player he is.. he plays it off even though you can see it in his face.

Now this night Raw pulls one of Nitros signatures and leaves the crowd on a cliffhanger when DX has Austin prepped up for the chair shot...they go off the air...not kidding check it out.

They literally went off the air right when Shawn cocked back for the swing LOL.

Next week on Raw sees a lot of hype videos since Wrestlemania is officially two weeks away. The first hype video is of course of Shawn, Michael Cole is jocking for position on Shawns...nevermind... hes giving him his flowers saying why hes synonymous with Wrestlemania, the glitz, the glamour, the pomp and pagentry...sounds like someone describing British traditional ceremonies (not a shot, I rock with the Brits...seriously lets party)

A very glitzy and glamourous man indeed...

We have a promo segment with Vince McMahon and Kevin Kelly (Yes Kevin Kelly from New Japan for all the younger wrestling fans). Vince starts off by saying his in ring meeting with Steve was unfortunate and unprofessional. They show a replay when Steve flips Vince off and Mr. McMahon says he didnt appreciate that and this was again very unprofessional. Vince then says it was Austin that was stunned when Shawn brought out Mike Tyson to join DX. A clip shows Austin offering Vince a free shot that he refused to take. Vince said Austin wouldve had a broken jaw if he took it. Another clip shows Austin kicking Vince out of the ring and Vince said he obliged because it wouldnt look good to see the boss drop Steve's punk ass...no he didnt say the punk ass part but he did let his "grapefruits" hang on this night..everyone including Jerry Lawler found it hilarious. One question remains unanswered and its if Mcmahon wants to see Steve as WWF champ.. and its not just a simple "no" its a "OH HELL NO!!'

Vince was definitely breaking out of his shell as an on screen character isnt he? ...cant wait to cover the feud between him and Austin.

Anywho...afterwards they show a Steve Austin hype package.

DX havent really been featured tonight but while Owen was on commentary, Triple H comes down unannounced.

A pissed off Helmsley comes down talking mad trash and gets in his face calling him less than a man for stealing the European championship. He says he wants a match tonight for the belt.

Owen tells Triple H to wait until Mania so to get under Owens skin and make sure he gets his wish, he mushes Owen in the face.

If "I'm going to kick this guys fuckin ass" was a facial expression this would definitely be it.

They begin to brawl. And since theres a referee on hand, it seems as if we have a title match boys and girls! While brawling, Triple H gets thrown into the steps, once they get in the ring, the bell rings. After the match starts they spill back to the outside and this time Owen gets thrown in to the ringpost. Triple H causes a distraction looking like a medieval wench..

Was I wrong? (best jokes in the comments)

But Chyna comes from behind with a baseball bat and smacks Owens injured leg. Once Owen is rolled back into the ring, Triple H puts him in a submission hold and the referee calls for the bell.

Triple H won his title back and tells Owen hes going to send him back to Calgary in a wheelchair if he shows up to Wrestlemania. He then says he has two words for him..

Next up...the go home show before Wrestlemania!

I'm going to end this here because I guess I went overboard with the imagery and I wont have the necessary room to add any more images with my description of next week so I will talk about the next episode soon after I make this upload. Stay Tuned and thank you again for coming back.

[mute-call]

Steve gives a lopsided smile, warm and genuine, the meaning behind Mike's comment going right over his head.

Until--

He blinks, frozen. What... what is this? He's never seen Michael act like this, not even when the other man has been at his most serious or direct.

"Um," cowed by the unexpected chill in Mike's voice, Steven dips his head slightly, looking at his shoes. Bell's hit some kind of nerve, but he has no idea how. He better start putting things together fast, though, because he does not want to make this same mistake again.

"Okay, Mike," he says placatingly, looking at the hand on his shoulder. It's reassuring, but he still feels a sick sort of feeling in his stomach at the implications of what's been said. What has Michael seen in his deep dives into the code of this place? What does he know that would set him off like that?

Bell really doesn't want to worry about it. But Mike responded so severely...

Michael's been kind of off for a while, hasn't he? His unusual commitment to this place, his one-track drive, his abrupt change from laughter to ice. Steven watches him curiously. What is Bell missing?

He trails after the other man, still feeling somewhat admonished for a mistake he doesn't fully understand. It has to have something to do with the tech and computer side of things, though, surely.

"I-- could you run me through how you set it up, too? I think, uh, it seems like maybe you-- I mean, maybe I should learn more about what you do on your end. I guess I'm less 'well acquainted' with that side of security."

At that comment, Mike can't help a further snort—it's such a dorky sort of sound to come from someone as chronically serious as him. "Believe me, I couldn't forget even if I tried." A bit of a darker joke, but Steven might not pick up on it.

...Michael's expression darkens. It's like a switch was flipped. Sometimes, he's oddly robotic, isn't he?

"Respectfully, Mr. Bell—I'm very well acquainted with this tech. So, I know very well what's going on here," the taller man says, his tone suddenly cold and business-like. He feels it's the only thing Steven will listen to.

He quickly snaps out of this, though, clearly regretting it; judging by the apologetic, gentle hand on his shoulder and his softer tone: "But that's all I'll say on the matter—you don't need to worry about it," he repeats some of Steven's own common words of comforting denial back at him.

Thank god he brought up the sanitation concerns. He might blow another gasket if he had to continue talking about this and trying to wedge any sort of truth into the other man's poor little corporate-poisoned brain. Hopefully he didn't frighten him too much.

Michael smiles at the teasing, but then grimaces in turn. "No, yeah, it'd be miserable for us to be stuck doing it. Maybe we can get some others, or even S.T.A.F.F to pitch in. Later, though. I can't be assed at this moment in time," he snarks again, waving his hand as if to dismiss the very idea.

...Oh, Steve wants to come with him to set up that firewall. This... produces mixed feelings. He was hoping to drop the disguise for a while, but—

"Sure, that's fine." What are you doing, Mike.

[forever-rogue]

making a wish for soft comfort smut with pining bestfriend! Eddie after you guys have a fight bc he thinks you don’t notice all the ways he tries to make things extra special for you and it’s going over your head bc your love language is physical touch (you think if he likes you, he’d make an obvious move but meanwhile he’s afraid to do anything physical that might cross a boundary, making *you* think he’s physically repulsed or something).

AN | Okay, how about some fight and kiss and make up? 🥰 (sidenote - my brain didn’t read smut so there’s none here 🥺 sorry bbs!)

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey babes,” you let yourself into Steve’s house, a huge grin on your face and a box of cupcakes in your free hand, attempting a small wave. Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Eddie were sitting in the living room, surrounded by snacks as they watched some random movie. It was Robin’s week to pick so naturally it was some quirky, offbeat film you’d never heard of.

“About time,” Steve teased as you kicked your shoes off and bounded over. You could feel the familiar set of brown eyes watching your every move intently, waiting to say something. You swallowed thickly and pointedly didn’t look in his direction, “only half an hour late!”

“I come bearing gifts,” you sang as you set the box of baked treats down on the table, “in the form of sweets - everyone’s favorite flavors. That’s right - you don’t need to tell me I’m the best, I already know how much you all love me!”

“I forgive you,” Robin tore into the box as you took your customary spot between her and Eddie. You finally allowed yourself to look at your best friend, giving him a soft smile. His expression softened before he offered you a dopey little half smile in return, “what took you so long?”

“Well,” you looked between your group of friends, your heart fluttering when you felt Eddie angle his body towards yours. You could practically feel the heat radiating off his body; his delicious smell of cologne, detergent and cigarettes working to overwhelm your senses. Part of you wished he wasn’t there; you weren’t sure what his reaction to your news would be, but - no. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because as far as you knew Eddie Munson only saw you as a friend. This was just another step in your attempts to get over him and accept that you’d never have anything other than friendship with you, “I was at the bakery, as one does before movie night, and I ran into Michael Taylor. Andddd…we got to talking and he asked me out!”

“Ohh,” Nancy grinned as she leaned over and high-fived you, “he’s cute. And really nice too if I remember correctly.” 

Steve and Robin exchanged a nervous little glance before peeking at Eddie. Meanwhile the man in question was staring at you so intently it was amazing that you didn’t catch fire. Steve tried to clear things up and prevent any further awkwardness, “but did you say yes? Surely you didn’t?”

“Yeah,” oh no. You noticed the silent communication between Robin and Steve and then Eddie’s complete silence hit you. Your face warmed up as you waved a hand awkwardly, “I…I ugh….I figured there was no reason not to, you know? It’s been a long time since anyone’s asked me out and he seems nice enough so I said yes. I-it’s just dinner and a-a movie.”

“Are you serious?” he finally spoke up and fuck. His voice was strained and you couldn’t help but turn to him. His brows were furrowed, lips drawn into a deep frown, with an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he shook his head, “Michael Taylor? Really? Are you fucking for real?”

“Eddie-”

“You’re really going out with him?” his voice cracked and he could feel tears prickling at the back of his eyes. He swore he could feel his heart actually break at the realization that you were going out with another man, “why? Absolutely not.”

“What do you mean why?” it suddenly felt like it was only the two of you in the room, “there’s no reason not to! You can’t just…you can’t just act like that. You can’t tell me who I can’t and can go out with, Eddie! You…why are you being like this? I haven’t done anything to deserve you acting like this. You’re my friend, you’re supposed to…I don’t know, support me?”

“You don’t get it do you?” he blinked rapidly, trying to keep his tears at bay as you looked at him with those big, innocent doe eyes. He scrubbed a hand over his face, “you don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get? Enlighten me.”

“I…everything I do, I do for you,” the words he’d wanted to say for so long were suddenly out there, lying between the two of you. Your lips trembled with effort as you tried not to cry, “you are everything to me! But you just don’t get it, do you? I have done everything I could think of but it’s just…you know what? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter. Obviously.”

“Eddie, wait,” he’d jumped up and stormed past Robin, Steve, and a bewildered Nancy as he headed for the door. You jumped up and tried to go after him, but you weren’t able to get to him in time. He was already out the door, slamming it shut behind him as he almost ran to his van. You’d stopped, hand on the doorknob as you listened to him start his van before peeling off. 

A tear ran down your cheek as you let out a small sigh. When you turned around, you caught everyone staring at you with various degrees of worry on their faces. You threw your hands up in exasperation, silent as you tried to process what had just happened. He’d just seriously freaked out and for what? 

“Did you…did you really not know?” Robin’s voice was tender as she held out her arm and wrapped into her side. You couldn’t help the small sob that escaped you as you burrowed into her warmth, “you didn’t know he’s in love with you?”

“Rob,” Steve raised an eyebrow as he gently shook his head. He wasn’t sure if this was the time or place to have this discussion. He just knew that two of his closest friends were hurting and that broke his own heart, empath that he was. 

“What on earth do you mean?” you looked at her with teary eyes and she pressed a kiss to the side of your head before hugging you tighter, “Eddie’s…”

“In love with you. Yeah,” she nodded with a small smile gracing her pretty features, “it’s kind of…obvious. I guess to everyone else. We thought you knew.”

“I don’t…” your mind was reeling as you thought about him. Eddie Munson, your sweet, kind, loving, amazing best friend. But he was just…oh. Oh. That’s when it hit you; Eddie had never just been your best friend. He’s always been so much more, “I never realized. I’m a fuckin’ fool. How could I…not. I don’t…fuck.”

“Sometimes you’re really smart and other times you’re so dumb,” Steve was smiling at you lightly, but he quickly ducked as you threw a pillow at him.

“Sounds like someone else we know,” you stuck your tongue out at him. After allowing yourself a moment to breathe you looked at your friends, “do you guys really think so? Like positively?”

“We know,” Robin promised, “babe, he’s practically told us. And it’s so obvious isn’t it? Who else would react like that if not a man in love thinking his heart is getting broken?”

“I gotta go,” you jumped up and almost kneed Robin in the face in your rush, “I-I have to talk to him or something. I can’t just leave it like this. I’d never forgive myself.”

“Go get your man!” Nancy cheered as Robin and Steve exchanged a high-five. You were about to make a huge fool out of yourself, or you were going to make the best decision of your life.

But for Eddie Munson, it was all worth it. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you figured out what and how you were going to say what you needed to say, it was late into the evening. But you knew that Eddie would be up and you couldn’t not go. It was now or never and after all this time of back and forth, cat and mouse, it was time to put it all out there. You’d always kept your heart guarded but you were willing to put it on the line and give it to Eddie to break. You just hoped he wouldn’t. 

The nervous energy that seemed to follow you was palpable as you bounced up the stairs to the porch of the trailer, knocking on the door loudly. You’d made sure Wayne was gone before you made a huge ruckus, but saw Eddie’s trusty old van, which you hoped was a good sign. But after a few minutes of knocking and anxiously waiting, the door never opened but you were positive you could hear some noise coming from inside but the door went unanswered. 

After knocking again, you were still left out in the dark and grew worried and annoyed. You knew that there was no way he didn’t hear you. Grabbing your keychain, you quickly found the key to his trailer and unlocked the door without hesitating. 

You walked inside and heard music coming from his bedroom - loud, but not loud enough for him not to hear you. You were about to pad the way to his room, but when you stepped inside, you heard a small yelp of surprise. You found yourself staring at Eddie, who had a bewildered expression on his tired face, “what? How? Why? How did you get in?”

“I had my key. Look, Eddie, we need to talk-”

“We?”

“Fine,” you inhaled deeply before staring at your feet, trying to gather up the courage to pour out all of the feelings you had for this silly, crazy man, “I…shit. This was easier in my mind. Like I had this all planned out and my mind’s just gone blank. Eddie Munson, you are my best friend-”

“I’m aware,” he crossed his arms over his chest, a hurt look on his features, “you made that very clear. I’m just your best friend.”

“Fuck - no,” you allowed yourself to look into his soft brown eyes, “you’re everything to me. You always have been and always will be. I just…I never thought you’d like me that. I thought I was in love with you and you never noticed.”

“How could you ever think that?” he let out a small huff, “I’ve tried to make it so obvious, you know? I thought you knew. It seems like everyone knows.”

“No,” you shook your head, blinking back tears with a meek smile, “I just…I feel like you’re so affectionate with other people and you almost never touch me. I like being touched and I dunno, I guess that’s just how I express affection? And you’re not like that with me. So I just figured like you didn’t want me or thought I was…repulsive or something. I dunno, it sounds so fucking stupid out loud.”

“I just - I never wanted to cross any boundaries,” he confessed, his shoulder up in a shy way as he tried to shrug it off.

“But that’s how you are with the others…” 

“Yeah,” he nodded before swallowing the lump in his throat, “but I’m not in love with them, am I?”

“I mean the way you and Steve are sometimes, one wonders,” you teased and a small smile and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well, I’m not in love with him, and honestly with you….I don’t know if I’d be able to stop myself once I touched you,” his face turned red as your face flushed with warmth at his little confession, “do you have any clue how hard it was to stop myself from doing anything but an occasional hug? Even then, I just wanted to…touch you. Every part of you.”

“Oh,” your mouth formed into a small pout as you tried to process what he had said. His face fell and his heart raged in his chest when he saw your expressions.

“Oh?” he grimaced as you looked at him with an intense stare, “t-that doesn’t sound good. I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to cross any lines or make you uncomfortable.”

“You want to touch me?” your voice was small, so small, but the innocent quality your eyes took on was enough to make him relax.

“Yes, fuck yes angel,” he admitted, “I’ve wanted to for so long. All those times you’ve brushed against me or during movie nights, it would take everything in me not to just grab you and…touch you.”

“So you don’t think I’m horrid?”

“Fuck no,” he grinned that toothy, dimpled, magical smile that made you weak, “the opposite. You’re divine and ethereal.”

“I feel so stupid,” you hung your head, cursing yourself for all time you could have already had him, “all this time. I never thought it’d be me.”

“It’s never been anyone but you,” he confirmed and butterflies exploded in your tummy, “and it never will be. Besides, do you really think I’d give my best and most prized shirts to just anyone? Or my lucky guitar pick?”

“No,” your hand instinctively went to your necklace as you touched the delicate chain holding the pick in question. You’d never taken it off since he’d given it to you, “you wouldn’t. Eddie.”

“Don’t go out with Michael,” his eyes searched yours, brilliant warm brown and gentle, “please. It’ll break my fuckin’ heart, baby.”

“I won’t,” tears, a mixture of excitement, nerves and nothing but love for him pearled up and ran down your cheeks as you laughed lightly. Eddie held up a tentative, shaky hand, waiting for a moment before he reached over and wiped away the tears, “I won’t.”

“Will you go out with me?” He sounded so hopeful and so anxious at the same time. As if you would ever say no to him. This was everything you had wanted since you’d met, “like on a real date? I-I wanna take you out. If you want to, that is. I want to do this right.”

“Yes,” you breathed happily, “that’s all I’ve ever wanted, Eddie Munson.”

“Really?” oh. You were soft for this man and so in love. So much, in fact, that it physically made your heart ache sometimes. 

“Fuck yes,” you echoed his words from earlier.

“Can I kiss you?” fucking finally. You both were giggly, chaotic bundles of nerves; all you could do was nod at him before you both stepped towards each other. He put his large, warm hands on your arms, dragging them lazily up until he was tenderly holding your face in his hands, “you’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

“So are you,” you grinned and he crashed his lips onto yours, kissing you like he had always wanted to. He practically melted as soon as his lips brushed yours; this was everything and more than he had ever dreamed over imagined. His brain and his whole body were reeling into sensory overload as he kissed you until he couldn’t breathe, “Eddie that was…wow.”

“You’re so soft,” he whispered as he pressed chaste kisses to your cheeks, forehead and nose, “how are you so perfect? You can’t be real.”

“Shut up,” you pressed your forehead against his, and he could feel you smiling against his lips, “and please kiss me more.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” he promised, “I’ll kiss you forever, angel.”

[lostaroace]

Nancy’s Wedding | Steve Harrington x Reader (ch.1)

Series Masterlist

Chapter Two.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader.

Word count: 3369

Nancy's Wedding | Chapter One.

The cold air of Chicago was freezing her ideas. Inside the subway, she had felt so much warmth due to the number of people occupying the space that her nose had started running. Just after the County General stop, she went out and the cold March air slapped her in the face. It was March 17th and just that morning it had been snowing and about three o'clock in the afternoon the rain was intense as fuck. She could feel her nose freezing with the cold, the air wetting her eyes. Hugging herself so her coat was closer to her body, Y/N arrived at her workplace and she'd just slipped twice on ice, not falling this time. The last time she knew she was running late to work, she made the awful mistake of walking faster, therefore she fell and broke her wrist. She was sent to the County General Hospital and Doctor Mark Greene had been very nice to her, even nurse Carol Hathaway even made small talk to her about how much she hated the peachy color of their uniforms. Although she had been wonderfully treated there, she'd rather not get injured instead.

Taking off her gloves, she pushed the personnel entry of the nightclub she worked at: The Silver. Small bits of snow fell from her boots as she hit the ground with force before heading to the locker room. Robin Buckley was already there, yawning.

"Jesus, Buckley, it's five in the afternoon. How are you still half asleep?"

"I'm old, Y/N. You're still barely twenty-four, but when you get my age, there are things you can't do anymore."

Rolling her eyes, she opened her locker to put her coat inside. "Don't speak like your life's ending. Aren't you twenty-seven? That's young! Just a week ago you were screaming that this year was your year, ninety-four baby, you said."

"I was mistaken."

As they got out of the ladies' locker room, Steve Harrington was getting out of the other one. Y/N put her foot in front of his making him trip, but not fell. He never fell. He stumbled to his feet, balanced himself with his arms, and cursed before straightening himself up, he ran his hands through his hair staring at the fake innocence in Y/N's eyes.

"One day, I'm going to break my neck because of you, kid."

"Oh, old man, I would pay to see that day. By the way, why is Robin so down?" She stared at him and grimaced, "You look like shit too, dude."

"She had a date…"

"I'm old!"

"...with someone who was twenty-two, apparently…"

"I'm going to die alone!"

"...so when she got home she drank everything we had and I'm the one who had to hold her hair. I have questions."

"Life runs so fast you woke up one day and… puff!! You're old."

"As much as I love your crisis, Roberta, could you, please, behave in the workplace?" One of the owners intervened.

"Sorry, Mr. Spencer."

As the three of them apologized without sentiment in their voices, the man sighed, gesturing for them to start working.

The Silver was a nightclub owned by Michael Spencer and Vicent Dewey since the late seventies. Since then, its looks and its menu had changed and adapted to current fashion. They had booths, square tables, lots of room by the bar counter, and a small kitchen to prepare the typical diner's food to nibble on while drinking. It wasn't so bad and they were very well known in the area.

Y/N started working there when she was seventeen thanks to the goodwill the owners had for needed people. She didn't have the age to work there at the time, but they just hired her as a dishwasher keeping her hidden from the public. They even allowed her to stay with them at the apartment they shared until she had the proper age to officially work there. That's how she knew so much about them and the relationship they had, although she never betrayed any of them. She was still working there, behind the bar with her fresh twenty-one, when Robin and Steve had gotten inside looking for a job. They had just arrived from someplace in Colorado and they were living in their car, both their faces and bodies had been badly beaten up. Steve's protective strike toward Robin was noticeable from the beginning, so much so that Y/N had been certain they were in a romantic relationship. When she had mentioned that to Dewey the man had laughed at her with such affection that she just had to connect the dots. Steve was clearly straight, but Robin wasn't so they probably had been beaten up in Colorado by some assholes who found out.

Three years later, they were part of The Silver family.

Robin tied up her hair and entered the kitchen. Steve and Y/N cleaned up the main area with a couple of waiters. At half past five, the band for the night entered the place making a beeline to the stage at the back; at six the doors were open and the first clients started to come in.

The first hours of the night were always slow. Young people entered the place at the time the band was playing some new pop or punk or rock or whatever it was for the night, occupying the dance floor and drinking beer, mostly. After supper, groups of friends, couples, and regular workers got inside looking for a drink. As midnight hit the clock, the band left but the club kept filling with drunk people who danced poorly to whatever was playing through the speakers. From three to five was usually a slow couple of hours in which the workers would clean as much as they could before closing time at six thirty. Harry, one of their older cooks, was so well-built that he was the one in charge of waking the sleepy drunks and walking them to the exit.

Y/N stretched her back to make it pop as Robin got out of the kitchen sitting on one of the stools by the bar.

"The kitchen's spotless. When are you two going to finish?"

"A few glasses, the counter, and the floor," Steve listed unbuttoning his vest.

"It's still six, people, we still have half an hour for clients to come inside," Spencer pointed out reaching for the tip jar under the counter, next to the cash register.

"At this hour people look for breakfast and coffee, boss, not a drink," Y/N complained.

"Who's turn is to clean the washrooms?" Dewey dried some sweat from his forehead on his way out of the kitchen. He was the main cook. Steve and Y/N pointed at each other. "Don't start kids, I'm too old for kindergarten fights."

Before Steve could argue the door opened and a regular customer came in. He was there last night, as he always was the nights he wasn't on call at the hospital and had a rough date, he would come into the club, sit on a stool and drink himself blind while complaining to Y/N. This time he was wearing a green scrub under his jacket, big black bags under his eyes, and sadness written all over his face.

"We're about to close, Doctor Ross," Spencer offered kindly.

Nodding, Doctor Dough Ross walked towards his stool, he sat, rested his elbows on the counter, hid his head between his hands, and started crying. Y/N took a bottle of scotch and a bottle of cold water, putting both of them in front of the man.

"Pick your poison, Doctor Ross."

Smiling sadly he caressed the scotch bottle but finally took the water. "She tried to kill herself," he whispered. "She seemed so good all day… Happy as always! Then her turn was over, she went home and a few hours later she was coming in with the ambulance. She took everything that was in her cabinet. With scotch, apparently. Why haven't I seen it? Why– Christ!"

Y/N had been Dough Ross' confessor for three years now; she knew everything that was to know about the man, and that's why she knew he was referring to Carol Hathaway, the nurse that once treated her so well in the ER, the woman he loved the most.

"Is Carol going to recover?"

To her question, Ross looked up and gave her one of his smiles, sinking his chin towards his neck. "They don't know. She's in a coma right now. How did you know I was talking about Carol?"

"I told you so many times by now, Doctor Ross. I know everything. I'm that good. You should go home now, she's in a hospital surrounded by doctors who would take good care of her."

"I don't want to go home. I would drink everything I have there if I go."

"Then drink it. If you do so you wouldn't have more alcohol to drink tomorrow."

He took a long sip of his water and nodded. "I feel responsible."

"I know. I noticed. You're not very good at hiding it, by the way. However, how can you be sure you're responsible for her choice? I think that's egocentric of you."

"If I–"

"Doctor Ross, with all due respect, do you think she has more things in her life than the relationship she had with you, and that ended nearly five months ago?"

"You're good. She's good, Spencer, treat her well. I'm going home," before turning around he offered his hand to her, as she gave him her hand he kissed it, shook it, and let go.

With the new tip in hand, Spencer did the maths again and separated the tips into equal piles that he gave to his employees. Steve and Y/N were the ones who work the hardest for tips just behind the bar counter, but they did it from the beginning with the idea that it was money for everyone.

"Mickey and I would clean the washrooms, kids. Get out of here."

"Thank you, Dewey," she gave him a kiss on the cheek on her way to the locker room.

As she was unbuttoning her vest she felt exhaustion overflow her for the first time in the shift. Her uniform, like Steve's, consisted of high-waisted plaid black pants, a white cotton shirt, and a black vest that had a silky part on the back in bright red. As for the shoes, she used boots with a thick sole, almost like platforms that gave her an extra few inches of height. The waiters' uniform was similar, although instead of vests, they wore ties and a slightly squared apron. Inside the kitchen, the workers wore big black pants that looked incredibly comfortable, a white cooks' jacket (usually with its sleeves rolled up), and the shoes they found more comfortable. Vincent Dewey had a little rainbow pin in the lapel of his chef's jacket that nobody saw. Michael Spencer didn't have a uniform, he just dressed as he pleased, smartly and professionally as a nightclub owner.

"That Doctor Ross is creepy," Robin pointed out as she was changing next to Y/N.

"He's harmless."

"That's how we call it now? He came right after his shift, knowing that we were about to close, just to talk about his day with you. He doesn't come when you're not working."

"I call that not having friends outside of work. Look, you can ask Harrington about this, but as bartenders, we play the confessor role for a lot of clients. We listen to them, and we gave them a safe place to cry, curse, or just be vulnerable. Sometimes they want advice, some other times they only want someone who listens to them. Mrs. Orville doesn't order anything unless Steve's the one who serves her, just because she likes the way he treats her. Ross is just the same. He never had any weird ideas with me, if that's what you're implying, Buckley."

"He could've fooled me…"

"He's just flirty. When I broke my wrist last winter, he saw me being treated by one of his friends. Doctor Mark Greene. And girl, let me tell you, Ross flirted with him like there was no tomorrow. I marked my lines the first time he came in here, and he had always respected them."

When they were all covered in coats and warm clothes, the girls got out to find Steve Harrington waiting for them next to the back door. The scarf was loose still, but his wool hat covered his full head and ears.

"How do you keep all your hair inside that thing?"

"You should see him at home. The moment he took it out he looks like a wet dog," Robin laughed.

"Shut it, Robs! So, L/N, want a ride home?"

She wanted to say yes. Since they had started working on The Silver, Y/N developed feelings for Steve although he never seemed interested in her. They argued, they bantered, they joked, but they barely talked. The first time Steve had offered her a ride home she had accepted thinking that they were getting closer, they were finally going to be friends. The ride was lonelier than taking the subway because in Steve's car he and Robin had a dynamic; they had inner jokes, and the conversation flew between them easily as she was relegated to the position of the spectator. It was discouraging noticing how any effort she made to start a conversation with them, or to contribute something else to theirs, there was an awkward silence that followed.

Yeah, she could totally understand the need Ross had to go looking for her to talk his mind out. He didn't have friends outside the workplace and she didn't even have friends there. Her coworkers seemed to like her and with some of them she was able to go grab a coffee or watch a movie, but it was always superficial.

Saying that after that first time she hasn't accepted another ride offer from Steve or Robin would be lying. She had. If the weather was too violent she always accepted. She didn't accept this time.

"Thank you, but I can catch the next train. I live next to the stop anyway," she always said.

"We don't mind," Robin assured her, now trembling due to the cold of the morning.

"It's fine! See you later!"

Y/N walked fast, not looking back, with her hands deep in her coat pockets. Usually, The Silver had two working shifts, but from time to time they had to do a double, just like this time. She loved doing doubles, really, that way she got home while her roommate was away and slept for a few hours, woke up at noon just in time for some chores, and was back to work again. No time to think. No time to feel lonely.

And that's exactly what she did. At five in the afternoon, she was back at The Silver, her laundry all washed, dried, and ironed, her pantry full again and she even bought a new book. Things were kind of good. Her mind had been blank and harmless all day.

She wasn't technically late when she got inside the club, but Steve and Robin were already arguing by the bar counter. Steve's hair looked terrible, a sign that he'd been running his hands through it nonstop in anxiousness.

"Are you having a stroke, Harrington?"

"Bite me."

"Only if you say please, pretty boy."

"He's having a meltdown," Robin staged whispered to her.

"About?"

"His ex-girlfriend's wedding?" She moved the white envelope she had in her hand.

"Linda?"

"No."

"Trish?"

"No."

"Maggie?"

"Think older."

"As in age or–"

"It's Nancy! My ex-girlfriend Nancy is getting married!"

"Who's Nancy?" Y/N was so confused.

"He dated her for less than a year when he was in high school."

Y/N gasped, "Are you still in love with your high school girlfriend, Stevie? Oh, boy, this is gold."

"Shut up! I'm not. I'm not in love with her still, alright? I'm not," he pointed his index finger at Robin before she could contradict him. "The point is that she's getting married in Hawkins. I don't want to go back to Hawkins."

"Who's the groom?" Y/N totally ignored him; Robin enjoyed it so very much.

"Jonathan Byers. They've been together since she and Steve broke up," she explained in a conspirator's way.

"Don't tell me that–"

"Oh, yeah. Steve and Nancy hadn't technically broken up when she started her relationship with Jonathan."

"That's not true! We had broken up. We did. Kind of…" As the insecurity made his voice wobbly, Y/N had to bite her lips to prevent smiling. Damn, he was cute.

"To sum up, he doesn't want to go to the wedding because he doesn't want to see the girl he still loves marrying the boy she cheated on him with. Am I correct?"

"Point number one, I'm not in love with Nancy. Stop it. And point number two, she did not cheat on me with him!" He blushed with frustration.

"Then where's the issue?"

"I can't go back to Hawkins…"

"Too many bastard childer running through its streets?"

"I do not– You know what? I'm not playing anymore. What I don't want is to show up and see how successful and happy everybody is. With their partners and their money and their whatever."

"This is a wedding, not a high school reunion. They'll be more focused on the couple than on you, Harrington."

"That's what I said to him."

"Good! Someone has sense between you two."

"She also said I should bring a plus one."

"It shouldn't be hard for you to find a date."

"Well… You see, he can't just bring someone he doesn't really know."

"You two should go together then," Y/N offered. The other two shared a look she didn't like quite a bit.

"Uh-huh, and I would if I wasn't already invited. I don't really need a plus one because I'm expecting someone would be there and… you know."

"Why are you so afraid of going back, Steve?"

He stared at her, "I'm not afraid. I just… I have something to prove, alright?"

"Are you sure? If they're your friends they must know you pretty well. I'm sure they already know that you've dated almost every single woman in Chicago."

"And a married one," Robin pointed out.

"Uh, yeah. I forgot about Jenny. Yeah, what she said."

"That's what I want to prevent. I want to prove to them that I've changed. That I grew up. I'm twenty-eight and my longest relationship had been Nancy Wheeler!"

"Then I said that he needed someone to pretend to be his girlfriend. Like his long-term girlfriend, you know? As if they've been together since he came into Chicago and they know each other and love each other and work together and–"

"Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

"It would be just for a weekend. A long weekend."

"Robin, I don't like this."

"You just have to pretend to be dating Steve. It's not that hard!"

"Why would I do such a thing?"

"I already told her you wouldn't do it."

"You'll be helping out a friend, Y/N. Huh? Um… Steve would clean the washrooms for the next year if you do it!"

"Hey!"

She shouldn't. She really shouldn't. "Fine. We have a deal."

Yeah, fuck it, because pretending to date the man you like and who's not interested in you is always a great rom-com plot.

The wedding would take place the last weekend of April. They had to arrive in Hawkins on Friday morning because they had a rehearsal dinner that evening, a brunch on Saturday morning, and a big party in the Hawkins High School gym, prom style, for the night. The actual wedding would take place Sunday at four in the afternoon. Robin and Steve convinced Y/N that to get their story straight, they should spend more time together.

Was it too soon to regret it?

To be continued… 

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @blackbirddaredevil23 @marisurmommy @lovesreality

[twopoppies]

Fan Report: Louis Tomlinson World Tour: Denver (submission)

Hi Gina, I love your blog so I wanted to send this to you to bring a bit of positivity after Louis’ Denver show. I was at the show in Denver. I was in pit in the first 1/3 of the crowd, really close to the stage and Louis, I couldn’t believe it.

Before the show even started there were several girls in my general area that got ill. And security was distributing water before the show even began. Security was really good and they got to people super fast were good about getting water to the people who were asking. 2 girls had to be taken off pit to be taken care of and a girl was taken off literally one minute before Louis came on.

1st things 1st about Louis: as soon as he came on I could feel his high energy and presence, and he is 100% “sex on a stick”. Also, SO FUCKING GORGEOUS AND HOT from up close. I kept thinking throughout the whole show that he must smell amazing. He is also SOOOOOO BRITISH and it shows even more in person than through videos/lives.

The whole show in person is amazing. His band is SO good. Steve on drums KILLS IT, what a great drummer. And Michael is so good too! He was right in front of me and was watching the crowd the whole night.

What stood out to me about Louis was how experienced and strong he is on stage. He makes sure to give the whole audience attention. He kept coming to my side because the ADA section was next to me and he made sure to interact with them so many times during the whole show and make them feel welcome and seen. Honestly, the most pointing he did was to them, to hype them up and show he saw them too.

The pointing thing, at least in this show, was 100% to audience sections. He did it as a way to hype up the different areas. And I didn’t see him point to anything in particular, tho my vision was restricted because I was in pit in a crowd of people.

My boyfriend who is not a massive fan also came but stayed in the back. He said the show quality was nuts. The light work was really good, and Louis sounded really good too. He said Louis reminded him of one of his friends who is also very British. He felt how hardcore the support is for Louis. How intense it is. 

The show was so loud. SO LOUD. When Louis said “Denver scream” the whole venue SHOOK. It was so intense.

I noticed he took a few breaks in between songs, and went to the side of the stage quite often when the lights went dark between songs. I think that was probably to get some oxygen because of the altitude. Which would also affect his energy levels. I’m in Denver and I still get affected by it. And when you first get here it hits you hard, you feel tired, lethargic, nauseous and thirsty. I can see him not being super high energy because of that, but it was not noticeable to me.

He was so pissed at the chicken nugget thing. He kept flipping people off who threw stuff at him and sometimes he did the British middle finger peace sign at them which I think is even worse. But it didn’t change my experience of the show, though he was noticeably angry for a few songs after it happened.

He has his eyes closed for a lot of the show when he’s singing at his mic. A lot.

Thanks for listening. Love your blog Gina! 

----

Hi sweetheart. Thank you so much for sending this! It sounds like it was such a great show. I'm so glad his anger about the food throwing didn't ruin it for you. And how cool that your boyfriend liked it, too!

[darknight3904]

Sober - Eddie Munson

Chapter 13- Still hot as hell

Masterlist

"What the hell even is this?" Max asked

"Who knows...it kinda looks like a giant potato sack." Marguerite said

The pair had been shopping all day. They were shopping for an outfit for Marguerite to wear on this date with Eddie. Max had pointed out that she could just wear that leather jacket again but Marguerite insisted on something different. They had been through countless outfits and stores and still nothing.

"Hey Marguerite...what about this one?" Max asked

"Holy shit...it's perfect."

°°°

Eddie had spent the majority of his day at Dustin's house.

"Eddie would you please stop worrying!" The curly haired boy yelled

"I can't help it, Henderson. What if I fuck it up? She's never gonna want anything to do with me ever again." Eddie said

"You're not gonna mess up. You just have to be yourself." Dustin advised

"Yeah no don't do that." Steve cut in

"What why not?" Eddie asked

"Cuz'..." Steve said as if we're obvious

"Steve. That isn't a reason." Dustin pointed out

"Ok look. What I mean is you're gonna be her first guy since me. Not to brag but I'm hard to live up to. Meaning, you gotta be on your toes. You really wanna wow her, be aggressive." Steve said

"Like a lion." Dustin interjected and produced a strange growl with his mouth

"Dude how many times do I have to tell you to stop that, it's weird!" Steve said

"Suzie likes it though!" Dustin argued

"Well I don't see Suzie here do I?" Steve replied

"Well no but it still sounds good I am-"

"Shut up!" Eddie said cutting his counterparts off

Steve and Dustin both turned to their friend who was now standing.

"Harrington...what do you mean by being agressive?"

°°°

The past five minutes had been the most awkward five minutes of Marguerite's life. Eddie had started the night by running around to open his van door for her. The gesture was sweet however, he whipped it open too fast and accidentally hit Marguerite in the face. Luckily she hadn't been injured but she could tell Eddie's ego was definitely bruised.

"You know I've been listening to Black Sabbath recently." Marguerite said trying to break this invisible wall between the two of them

"Oh uh cool yeah that's super cool." Eddie said

"Do you have any of their music in here? It'd be fun to listen to some now." Marguerite said opening the glove box.

"Oh uh no I took them out." Eddie said

Marguerite's brows raised as she pulled a tape from the little box in her hands now sat a few Madonna tapes along with some of Michael Jackson's biggest hits. Marguerite didn't have anything against them but she was hoping to bond with Eddie over his unconventional music taste that Marguerite found oh-so interesting.

"Oh uh Madonna. You didn't seen like the type, Eds." Marguerite said

"It's a secret." Eddie laughed

Marguerite shook her head with a smile and pushed the tape in. Material girl began playing and Marguerites hands tapped along to the beat. The song was good but it just didn't feel right driving in a car with Eddie Munson and having Madonna play.

Material girl was reaching the end of it's tape and Marguerite was hoping the awkward atmosphere would leave once they reached this restaurant Eddie claimed was amazing. Instead, a load boom was heard and the van Eddie loved so dearly began swerving out of control. Marguerite's hands shot forward onto the dash, trying to stabilize herself as Eddie cursed and pumped the breaks.

The van came to a stop on the side of the road just under a street light.

"Holy shit. Maggie are you okay?" Eddie asked

"Yeah I'm great...what the hell happened?" She asked

"I think a tire blew." Eddie said "I'll get out and check. You uh just stay here don't want you to get dirty."

Sure enough a tire had blown. Neither teen knew where the nearest payphone was and the nearest building had to be at least another 3 miles down the road. So now, they sat on the roof of Eddie's van in silence.

"Shit I am so sorry, Maggie." Eddie suddenly said

"What why?" She asked

"This was supposed to be like the perfect date. And now we're stranded waiting for some car to drive along so we can hitchhike back home." He said

"This is definitely not the perfect date but it's definitely the most memorable, Eddie." Marguerite laughed

"Really? Well I guess that's something..."Eddie trailed off.

"Yup. Besides look up there."

Eddie's eyes followed to where Marguerite was pointing. Little stars shone down on them, lighting up the darkness of the Hawkins sky.

"Last time I went stargazing was with Steve. It got ruined by all the mosquitoes." Marguerite laughed

"Well, Lady Hargrove there are no mosquitoes on top of this van." Eddie smiled

"Thank the Lord." Marguerite smiled as she rested her head on Eddie's shoulder

They looked at the stars of Hawkins as the minutes ticked by. Eddie's hand rested on Marguerite's thigh, dark rings contrasting against the white of her dress.

"Can I confess something?" Eddie asked

"What is it?" She asked

"That night after the party your strip tease...it wasn't for Harrington. It was me. I brought you home." Eddie confessed

No fucking way.

"You swear you're not lying to me, Eddie." Marguerite sternly said

"I swear." Eddie said

A beat of silence passed as Marguerite's face began to burn.

"God I'm so sorry , Eddie." She said hiding her face in her hands

"Don't be, sweetheart. I'm not going to lie to you and say it wasn't hot." Eddie assured her

"Shut up." She groaned pushing him away from her

"Oh c'mon. I've thought about that moment so many times this past week, you have no idea." Eddie said leaning towards her.

Marguerite unburied her face from her hands to find Eddie only a few inches from her face.

"You know when you say it like that it sounds nasty." Marguerite softly said

"Maybe. But it was still hot as hell." Eddie smirked

Marguerite just rolled her eyes in response and gently flicked Eddie's nose with her fingers.

"Shut up, Munson."

And with that Marguerite closed the distance between their lips.

[mattpoitrass7thgoal]

I know this is niche one so here is the reasons why for each Bruin being what wrestler. This doesn’t have to do with appearances more character, entrance music and overall performance.

Charlie Coyle: John Cena is a classic good guy and also is from Mass

Jake DeBrusk: Scott Steiner, I know what your thinking who? Scott Steiner is famous for his math speech where he takes his 75% chance of winning and then adds his 66 2/3 per cents to get to him having a 141 2/3 chance of winning at sacrifice. All I know is that if I had to watch Jake do math it would go along the lines of this speech.

Nick Foligno: Stone Cold Steve Austin=bald and a badass, Nick Foligno= bald and a badass sometimes

Derek Forbort: Goldberg, Goldberg never loses he also makes dumb decisions. I’m now respect the epic highs of Forbort Hockey he never has lows now.

Trent Frederic: Mankind, most famous for doing crazy stunts like getting thrown off the top of the steel cage multiple times. This guy just keeps making bad decisions so he can fight which suits Trent

Brandon Carlo: Kevin Nash otherwise known as big daddy cool diesel, honestly I gave him this guy solely because his nickname.

Matt Grzelcyk: Rob Van Dam, small and agile guys. Also out of all the bruins the one I would pick to randomly appear in a syfy shark film like Van Dam has done would be Matt.

David Krejci: The Undertaker, a person that’s just been around a long time that is consistently good. Also I feel like Krejci would have a random motorbike phase like the undertaker did.

Charlie McAvoy: Randy Orton. He has a nickname that is the legend killer and the amount of veterans of seen McAvoy ass check to oblivion I feel like he earns that title.

David Pastrnak: Ric Flair, always had the most over the top beautiful robes just like pastas suits

Jeremy Swayman: Kurt Angle who is an Olympic gold medalist, famous for winning with a broken neck. The only American I could think of here with any type of Gold medal was Sway. Wait I just done research and he won Bronze, I’ll change my reasoning too that how he is getting treated now is the same as fans chanting ‘you suck’ in time with Kurt Angles entrance music

Pavel Zacha and Jakub Zboril: Edge and Christian. One of the best tag teams to exist, childhood friends like our two boys (not the tag team parts just the friendship part).

Hampus Lindholm: The million dollar man Ted DiBiase…..have you seen Lindholms contract?

Tomas Nosek: Rowdy Roddy Pipper, Nosek is one of the rowdiest players I’ve seen, he lives for the drama

Connor Clifton: Cactus Jack/ Mick Foley. This wrestler is also Mankind (see Freddy) but this is another one of his egos which is hardcore which suits Cliffy hockey.

Mike Reilly: Heath Slater, classic loser just a jobber. Mike was on my template so I had to find someone that suits my boy.

Craig Smith: The Heartbreak Kid Shawn Michaels. Shawn Michaels is my all time favourite, his entrance music is sung by himself and is called sexy boy which suits Craig.

Brad Marchand: Chris Jericho, 2 Canadians that people hate

Linus Ullmark: The Big Show, solely for the entrance music which says that he is gonna give you a show.

Patrice Bergeron: Bret ‘the hit man’ Hart. Famously Hart has a quote that is ‘the best there is, the best there was and the best there ever will be’ which is how I would describe Bergy

AJ Greer: CM Punk, one of the best heels there is. And i feel like Greer just knows how to taunt like him

[adultswim2021]

Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! #13: “Forest” | December 17, 2007 - 12:15AM | S02E05

In this episode: Tim is out in the woods taking very bad photographs of nature. He has a disastrous run-in with chippy, resulting in a big burly mama Chippy (Eric in terrifying monster-man make-up) showing up and mauling Tim. It’s very dramatic and approximately cinematic, but it ends with Eric breaking character and smiling and striking a pose at the camera. It was probably a bit of footage that was not intended to be used. I feel like sometimes Tim & Eric went to that well maybe a little too often. The fourth-wall breaking “this doesn’t actually matter” thing happens pretty often on this show, and I can see how that would give certain people a bad first impression of the show who aren’t on their wavelength. I didn’t always love it, either.

The Married News Team are back! And Steve Brule is in tow! It feels like it’s been a while since we’ve seen the Married News; Brule showed up doing his own thing in a self-defense VHS tape earlier in the season. This bit is okay but not terribly strong; they are playing a mysterious video game (later in an interstitial we find out it’s “The Snuggler” video game) as a way to introduce Brule’s segment on video games. The joke here is Brule can’t think of the video game. Conceptually this is funny, but most of the sketch is Brule sitting in silence trying to remember the game.

You can’t help but feel a little robbed. Brule is a font of hilarious lines and turns of phrase, so it’s a shame to waste that. I do like little details in this sketch, like Wayne using a Game Gear as a controller for his video game. This almost seems like an intentional joke for how poorly video game hardware is accurately portrayed in television shows. There’s also the little take Wayne does the camera when Brule is mentioned, playing up the jealously he feels when he’s around. This dynamic would eventually take a really dark turn, but that’s a bit off from now. 

Back to Tim in the forest. He’s been left for dead by Mama Chippy, but he has no reason to fear, for the Snuggler is nearby. The Snuggler is played by Tairy Greene, who is played by Zach Galifianakis. He has a fox companion named Michael J. The joke is a reference to Micheal J. Fox, and for some reason this joke alluded me for years because I just thought the name “Michael J.” was funny, and don’t normally associate intentional cultural references with this show. There’s not a ton to this bit either, but it’s fun. Most of the humor comes from the incessant use of title cards and on-screen bugs for the fictional “The Snuggler” television program. His superpower is that he just snuggles people back to health. Sure enough, he immediately begins spooning the bloodied Tim, soothing him almost immediately. 

There’s an Uncle Muscles “classic” clip from 1993 starring Casey and his Brother. This is what I’ve talked about before; Casey is dead, so every time they do a new Casey and his Brother sketch they make sure to announce that it’s from the archives. Here they perform “Horse and Buggy Ride”. I like these bits fine. I may be repeating myself here, but I honestly think they perfected the formula with the “Right Way to Rock” promo, where Casey is at his least ill-seeming. They brought Weird Al in just to record an intro for this; unless they banked a few during the season one shooting session. I don’t remember how much Uncle Muscles shows up in this season. 

Video Match, A Dating Service is next. The joke here is mostly the absurd visual of the video subject appearing to have no nose. This is all through digital trickery. It’s funny enough! I wonder if the intent was to have this effect appear to be the result of a video tracking error sort of mad-fold-inning the image. For some reason it took me a couple viewings to realize that this is the same guy from the upcoming song “Petite Feet” even though he basically hits all the same bullet points. 

The true classic bit from this episode is “Petite Feet”. With the lyrics “petite feet, feminine step / sounds like a lady when he’s walking in the room”. It’s very catchy, and the characters Tim & Eric play are hilarious, a couple of lameoids who live for billiards and aggressively pursuing sexual encounters. They champ at the bit to fuck this piece of trim just based on the sound of the footsteps. The song continues “this is what a man sounds like when he walks” (a masculine-sounding instrument) “but this is what that dude sounded like when he walked” (a feminine-sounding instrument).

I remember my friend Andrew telling me about an awkward family gathering where he tried to show a family member this sketch, thinking he MIGHT appreciate it. They feigned interest, but they were just waiting to show Andrew his own viral-style internet video, which was just a bullshit Jesus PSA about how people who believe in evolution are heretics who are going to hell. Literally could not be further from Tim & Eric.

I also remember this bit being performed live. I don’t remember if it was because I saw it or if this was one of a few Tim & Eric live things I saw on video. In the live bit, they perform the song and the trading of masculine and feminine instruments goes on longer, with Tim & Eric becoming more and more frustrated by the failure of the instruments being handed to them by Jon Mugar. Eventually they become so angry with him that they slap him silly and storm off the stage. Mugar is holding a horn in his hand. He turns to the audience and seamlessly begins performing the hundred holiday honks: which is to say he just turns around and squeezes the horn 100 times without saying anything. It must’ve been extra baffling to those who were unaware of Tim & Eric’s Super Deluxe output. 

This one ends with Tim showing Eric a slideshow of his forest excursion. We get to deeper on his rescue by The Snuggler. Zach gets testy when Tim laughs at his pine cone puppet show because Zach feels it’s not meant to be funny. They casually devour Michael J. Tim owes his life to The Snuggler. Unfortunately Eric doesn’t care about this “at all” and the show ends with Tim & Eric pathetically waving goodbye to the camera. Their ad-libs during the credits are funny enough, but I have a pet peeve about this. VH1 had a lot of bad talking head shows where comedians would say lame jokes over repurposed footage of various things, and I feel like all too often a lot of these bits ended with a grinning Doug Benson sarcastically smiling and waving goodbye after delivering his stupid punchline. I can’t help but think of that when Tim & Eric do it here.

Honestly, this one is sorta weak, which seems like it’s always the way when Adult Swim takes it upon themselves to promote an episode of Tim & Eric heavily. Whatever I find annoying in a Tim & Eric show probably reads as “easily digestible” by the network. Detached irony is easier to take when it’s more obvious, maybe. I like detached irony, but I like it without the filthy tude. Oh yeah, I didn’t mention it yet, but Adult Swim promoted this one pretty heavily. Read on!

EPHEMERA CORNER

The Snuggler Stunt (December 16, 2007)

On the evening of the above episode’s premiere, Adult Swim went all-out promoting it by adding promotional on-screen bugs that were intentionally obnoxious, advertising “The Snuggler”. These bits included little video footage of Zach saying “I am the Snuggler” and stuff like that. It was meant to mimic a more typical network’s advertising methods, by covering the lower-third with garish advertising for upcoming programming during the show you were currently watching. They only did this during the repeats, if memory served. Xavier was spared of this. 

Unfortunately these bits aren’t on Youtube; I was hoping to find somebody had compiled the on-screen bugs. This stunt seems largely forgotten. I think I might have a recording somewhere. I’m a broken record, but I really need to find all that stuff and save it. Fuck.

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