#Damn right these roads aren't straight

[steamanband]

Dude. Dude. (Gender neutral) Tell me about your queer HCs for everyone in NSR. That Remi/Tila solidarity got me. Real bad man

ALRIGHT LETS GO ROUND UP OF EVERYTHING I CAN THINK OF OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD

Zuke he/it demigirl asexual lesbian, Mayday she/it non-binary lesbian

DJSS transmasc non-binary gay

Sayu as a character is a she/love lesbian canon real. Tila she/they/love non-binary lesbian, Remi he/love/fin non-binary lesbian also. They are girlfriends!!!!!

Dodo is bisexual bigender he/she and Sofa is non-binary sharkgender pan aro they/shark/wave

Yinu is unlabelled because she is like nine years old. I have no concept of age milestones so i don't know what nine year old kids are like????? I think I can see her winding up as agender or something similar.

Neon J is gay and asexual, Im not sure about gender though??? I feel he's AMAB but a little bit left of cis. 🤔 he/him

Eve is canon demi iirc!!! Good for her!!! I think she leaves her gender unlabelled. I can see her as bi I think. Any pronouns but she/her leaning

Tatiana any/all pronouns real. I think. Maybe mspec but idk where in particular

Yiruk they/it transmasc non-binary aroace

DJ Zam is an omnisexual trans man I think. He/him

I really do hate to say it but non-binary Kliff, they're literally the non-binary flag colours 😭‼‼ they/he

All of 1010 hmmmm... I'll have to get back to you on that because I am Undecided

I can't remember any more characters off the top of my head atm 😵😵

[baronessvonglitter]

Like a Good Girl Should

mom's sleazy bf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: Your mom's sleazy new boyfriend Joel Miller is the last person you'd ever want to be alone with.. so how did you end up on his lap getting punished?

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, sleazy!Joel, dominant!Joel, using panties for masturbation, mention of dad in prison & brief prison r@pe joke, slut shaming reader's mom, mild violence, dubious consent (at first), spanking, thigh spanking, pussy spanking, rough fingering, threat of fisting, squirting, masturbation, ejaculation on body, no use of y/n, pet names ('daddy' and 'sir' for Joel; little girl, baby girl, darlin', sweetheart for reader), no specific age for Joel mentioned but there's still an age gap as reader is in college. (If I've forgotten any, please let me know!)

Author's Note: AKA I've got a hankerin' for some spankerin'!

I've had this fic on my mind for a week and now it's finally out. I tried to make Joel as sleazy as I could without being a total nightmare. Thanks to everyone who showed interest when it was a seedling of an idea. I'm honestly looking forward to writing whatever my next kink hyperfixation will be!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

divider by @saradika-graphics👑

You fucking hate Joel Miller.

He's the asshole who moved in a few months ago.

With your dad in prison, your mom lamented the loss of a man around the house, until one night she brought Joel home with her after meeting him at a sleazy beer joint. And he never left.

He's offensive in every way: he doesn't pick up after himself, doesn't help out with the chores, drinks milk straight from the carton, and walks around in the morning in nothing but his briefs, proudly showing off his god damn morning wood.

Not that you've looked..

And every night it's the same hectic squeaking of your mom's bedsprings, the same quick, loud shrieks followed by moans that crescendo in pitch until it all falls silent, only to start up again fifteen minutes later.

Not that you listen.

He makes no secret about ogling you, making suggestive comments on your clothing (or lack thereof). You count the days until you have enough saved up to move out while you're still attending junior college.

When your mom's working the late shift at the diner down the road, you do some cleaning up while Joel sits on his ass watching some stupid 80s action movie. You gather your clothes and put them in the washer, one by one, making sure the right things are inside out, and that pant legs aren't twisted up.

You find your favorite pair of panties, hot pink silk, the first nice pair of panties you purchased yourself at a fancy lingerie store. Horror makes your stomach sink when you look closer at the crotch of the panties, seeing a glob of what you're one hundred percent sure is cum.

Joel.

You confront him about it and he doesn't even bother to deny it. He simply kicks back on the sofa (fully clothed for once) and tells you you should take it as a compliment.

You should take him jacking off into your favorite pair of panties.. as a compliment.

Seeing red, you tell him to fuck off, to get out, that you'll tell your mom what he's been doing, but he gets up and towers over you, backing you to the wall.

"You ain't gonna do shit, little girl."

"Try me," you dare him.

The look on his face makes you wonder if he'd rather kill you or devour you on the spot.

"Get the fuck out," you whisper, eyes blazing with fury.

"Listen, little girl, and listen good: I'm here whether you like it or not, so get used to it. As long as your mama wants a piece of this," he cups his crotch as you look away in disgust. "Then I'm stayin'. And as long as I'm stayin', it's my rules that run this place, you hear?"

"You can't tell me what to do!" You shout back indignantly.

He scoffs as you say that, irritation flaring at your defiant tone. He shakes his head, continuing to glare at you. "Oh, yes I can, darlin'. As long as you're livin' under my damn roof, I can tell you to do whatever I want you to do, whenever I damn well please."

"This isn't your fucking house!"

"I'm the only man here, ain't I?"

"Then I'm moving out!"

"No you're not! Don'tcha even think about it!"

"You gonna stop me?"

He lets out a dangerous rumble as you challenge him, his eyes narrowing, practically daring you to push him. "Try it and see what happens."

In your room you grab a duffel bag and cram some clothes and necessary items in there. Already Joel is storming into the hall, his boots loud against the wooden floor.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," he shakes his head.

"Told you I'm leaving. Don't know why you won't believe me."

"Where ya goin'? To that lil' drug dealer boyfriend of yours?" he sneers.

"So what if I am?"

"The hell you will. If you let him anywhere near you, I'm breakin' his damn legs."

His eyes go wide as you storm past him and head for the front door. His hand shoots out and grabs your arm before you can get too far. "Oh, no, ya don't," he growls, grabbing and jerking you back toward him. He grips your upper arm tightly as he spins you around to face him.

"Let me go!"

He scowls, keeping you in place in front of him. "No, I'm not lettin' you go, darlin'. Not until you quit bein' a brat and calm the hell down."

"Don't call me a brat!"

He grins at this. "Then stop actin' like one. You've been runnin' your mouth ever since I came here, and now you're makin' threats ya can't follow through on and bein' an uptight little bitch."

"Go to hell!" You spit at him, a glob of your saliva lands on his cheek and he wipes it off with his fingers, putting them them in his mouth to suck it off. You watch with mild disgust even as you're a little turned on.

"Oh, I should put you over my damn knee and tan that sassy little ass of yours until you behave yourself, darlin'."

You cross your arms. "You don't have the balls!"

A smirk crosses his face. "You can see for yourself, darlin'." He cups his crotch, drawing your eyes to him even though you don't want to.

"You really think I'm not gonna put ya over my knee and paddle that cute little ass 'til it's raw?"

"You wouldn't!"

A smirk creeps over his face at the uncertainty in your voice, his hand moves down to your hip, fingers digging in the flesh. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel your panties dampen.

"Nah, you're pussy's speakin' for ya. I can see it already, you soakin' up those lil' shorts of yours."

You're too turned on to risk speaking, struggling against him because it's the only way you can fight back, prove him wrong.

"There's no escape from daddy, darlin', You're stuck. And you're gonna be punished until ya behave yourself."

You growl, "You're not my fuckin' daddy!"

He grins at you, grabs a handful of your hair, yanking it brutally to force you to look up at him. "That's right. Your daddy's in prison, probably gettin' passed around like the little bitch he is. I'm your daddy, darlin', and don'tcha forget it. I'm the one protectin' you, takin' care of you, and now daddy's gonna put you in your place."

He jerks you towards the sofa, pulling you over his lap so your ass is squarely on his thighs, your top half pressed into the sofa cushions at an awkward angle, holding yourself up on your forearms so you can breathe, watching helplessly as he pulls down your shorts and panties in one go, leaving your ass bare to him. He drops your clothes to the floor. The way your positioned he can also see your pussy lips, swollen with excitement.

One arm on your back holds you down, the other trails its fingertips across your smooth, supple skin, giving you goosebumps, causing your cunt to clench, much to your horror.

"You've been very naughty today, darlin', haven't you?" he prefaces your punishment, giving your ass a light swat to punctuate his words.

You're too stunned to move or speak.

He runs his large, rough hand over your ass, squeezing one of your cheeks as he looks down at you, his voice low and stern: "Answer me, baby girl. You know you're supposed to answer your daddy when he asks a question." He gives your ass a sharper smack, the sound of his hand on your flesh reverberating in the room, shameful to your ears.

You give a sharp gasp. "Yes! I was being naughty!"

"That's right. You were bein' a bad girl, a sassy little brat who keeps gettin' smart with daddy." He rubs his hand over your ass, then gives it a few little swats, each one harder than the last, building up a stinging heat on your flesh.

You squirm under each spanking, seeking friction for your aching clit.

"Stay. Still," he orders in a growl.

"Daddy, it aches," you whine, not talking about the spankings. There's a wetness growing between your thighs, glistening, catching Joel's attention like a raven sighting something shiny in the grass. He growls, his touch hovering over your folds, not yet ready to give in to your needs.

"I know it aches, baby girl. But it's supposed to. It's your punishment for being a naughty little brat." He doesn't allow himself to focus on it, his hand grabbing your thigh instead. "Open your legs wider," he commands when you try to squeeze them together to get some relief.

Your scent rouses him when you open your legs just a little. He forces them apart and slaps the insides of your thighs, his dick getting harder when you cry out from sensitivity.

"Does that hurt, baby girl?" his voice is mockingly gentle as he runs his calloused fingers over your inflamed skin. When you nod instead of giving a vocal answer he slaps another palm against your already-stinging skin. "Answer me," he warns.

"Y-yes.." you reply, trying like hell to close your legs, but he keeps you down, keeps them forced apart just enough. "Fuck.." you mutter, eyes closed as more of your desire drips out of you, running down your thighs to his jean-covered lap.

He feels your excitement, the warmth you give off, feels your slick dripping out of you like sap from a tree. He knows if he slides inside you right now you'd be hot, wet, accommodating his fingers, his tongue, his cock, whatever else he wants to put in your little fuckhole. But he has control. He waits you out.

"What was that?" he snaps, giving you another spank, slightly harder than before. "Did you just curse at me, baby girl? I don't think I'm gonna go easy on you if you're gonna keep usin' that filthy mouth for that kinda language."

The dark, damp spot you created on his jeans grows, as does his enjoyment. He's hard as a rock, wishing you were placed just so so that you can feel it. He imagines you rubbing your needy unclothed cunt across the crotch of his jeans, satisfying yourself on just his clothed cock.

"Are you enjoyin' your punishment?" He mocks you once again, lightly brushing his knuckles across your puffy, drooling pussy lips, smirking when you whimper and shiver, trying to lift your hips to his touch. "Shh.. you don't get to be greedy right now, sweetheart. This is daddy's time to teach you a lesson. You're gonna be a good girl and let me teach you that lesson, aren't you?"

"Yes, daddy," you whine. Your entire body is aflame with need, brimming over with desperation. You'll do anything he wants, suck his cock, take his dick in whichever hole he pleases, so long as your frustration is released, so long as you get to come.

"That's more like it," he praises, his hand moving across your sore buttocks, softly touching before landing another stinging slap. "Good girls listen to daddy, and good girls take their punishments without complainin' and cryin'. They just take it, like a good girl should."

The need for friction, your pussy left wanting and vulnerable, brings you to tears, despite his warning not to cry, "Wanna.. be good for daddy."

"I don't know if you can be good.. don't know if it's in your nature. Got a felon for a father and a whore for a mother. I think you're just plain bad.. might need to stay on my lap for a long time." He lands a slap, watching your ass jiggle with the force of it.

"Please," you whine.

"Aw, what's wrong, darlin'? You seem like somethin's botherin' you." Two more slaps, one on each ass cheek before he grabs one at a time, squeezing hard on the flesh, relishing the heat radiating from your skin, and spanking them again. "How's your ass feel, sweetheart? All warm and tender and sore?" He soothes you with his hand.

"Yes.. yes, sir."

He chuckles lowly. "Daddy likes it when you call him 'sir'. You get points for that, baby girl. Now answer my question."

Question..question.. Every time he speaks, his actions override it, but he did ask how you were feeling, if you were sore. "Yes. But I still ache.. inside."

His cock twitches in his jeans and he adjusts himself beneath you. "Still achin' inside, huh? Need some relief? Need daddy to help you out?"

"Yes, daddy." Your fingers grip the couch cushion.

He gives your hair another tug, yanking your head back, forcing you to look up at him. "What did I tell you just now about callin' me 'sir'?"

Your eyes meet his and you swallow, but your mouth refills with saliva. Your mouth is as wet as your cunt, hoping he'll fill one or the other. Preferably both. "Yes, sir, daddy.. please.. help me."

"You're so sweet when you ask so nicely, beggin' me to take care of you." He lets go of your hair, his hand caressing your lower back and ass in a gentle, soothing way.

"But I ain't gonna fuck ya. You're not my type."

What you get instead is another spanking, then another, and another, until your ass feels raw, until it's nearly numb, then Joel presses two fingers deep inside, cramming you with his thick digits. Gasping a shuddering breath, you push back on him, only for him to take them away, spreading your wetness on your backside.

"You're just like your mom.. needy as a feral cat. Can't ever get enough," he grumbles, giving you another smack before inserting his fingers again, spreading your thighs wide as he shoves them in and out, smiling when he hears your cries of pleasure, the way you squeeze around him as if to keep him there. If it was his dick in there he'd have cum already, you're so snug and wet around him.

He removes his fingers again when he feels you close to the edge and your frustrated groan brings a smile to his face.

"Please, daddy.. sir.. Joel.." Whatever he wants you to call him. "Please don't stop!"

"You're gonna have to be quiet or I'm gonna stick my whole hand in this lil' pussy, stretch it out so nothin' else will ever fit."

You're shivering, your body on edge for his touch, and the fucker knows it. And you know he'll make good on his threat. You force yourself to be quiet, only the smallest whimpers escaping your lips once his fingers slide into you again, this time adding a third finger, unable to help it when you moan, "Oh, god, daddy!"

This time he doesn't pull away, keeping his fingers in a steady thrust inside you, using his free hand to slap your ass, mixing the pleasure with the pain. He parts your thighs further, lifting your hips to smack your pussy, grinning when you jolt forward, crying out, not allowing you to close your legs when you get overstimulated, continuing to land slaps upon your sensitive flesh until you whimper another please, daddy.

He mutters something unintelligible, bringing his fingers back to your soaked cunt, your juices creating an even bigger stain on his jeans. Pumping his fingers in and out, he scratches that itch, finds that spongy tissue inside that drives every woman crazy, and he rubs against it, watching you writhe, listening to your ragged gasps and desperate pleas until you squirt, your fluid dousing his hand and his lap until you beg him to stop when you become oversensitive.

He could continue, he could give you more, go all night, but he doesn't have as much patience as he used to. Positioning himself behind your sprawled out figure on the sofa, he takes himself from his jeans and strokes his length urgently, spilling his cum on your still-quivering ass and your drenched cunt.

Satisfied, he smears his cum all over you with his dick while it's still half-hard.

"Ain't that pretty," he comments. "Now, you ain't tellin' your mama nothin', and we can come to some kind of agreement that benefits us both.. right, my good girl?"

Exhausted, empty, you nod. "Yes, daddy."

tag list 💕: @survivingandenduring @evolnoomym @mountainsandmayhem @pedroswife69 @wannab-urs @lunamothgoth @inept-the-magnificent @karaslqve

[msgexymunson]

Treasure

Description: watching the latest Mad Max film has you discovering something new about Eddie and his kinks 

A/N: just a smutty blurb I came up with when I watched that film last night! Ignore the timeline, just pretend Fury Road came out in the 80s. Please reblog if you like my work, I'll love you forever, promise.

Warnings: AFAB reader, NSFW, minors DNI, subby Eddie, breeding kink, p in v unprotected sex (reader on b/c) 

2k words

Masterlist 

The new Mad Max film blares its opening titles, echoing off of the tinny walls of the trailer. The lights are all off; darkness had fallen outside some time ago, so the only light came from the flickering blue glare of the TV. 

There was barely enough room to sit side by side on the narrow bed, so you sat between Eddie's spread legs, your back flush with his chest, cuddled in a swaddling embrace. You'd only been seeing each other for a couple of months, but the comfort of having his arms around you in such a natural way made you feel safe. 

"I've been looking forward to watching this, took a lot not to watch it before you came around." He admits, hand reaching up to stroke your face briefly. 

"Well, aren't I lucky." 

"Damn straight." 

You laugh, grabbing his hand and wrapping it back around your torso, settling down to watch the movie. 

Losing yourself in the film, you focus on the characters, the chases, the struggles. Then you notice Eddie's hand has drifted to your thigh. Your eyes roll upwards, he's usually handsy with you when you're trying to watch TV so this is not surprising. What is surprising is the nature of his movements. They seem compulsive, thumb rubbing back and forth as if he's not aware he's doing it. Staring at his hand, you see it's trembling slightly. 

You cup his hand with yours and he stops immediately. 

"You alright there baby? Are the girls that hot?" You quip, amusement in your voice. 

"Oh, no, not at all!" He shakes his head, a few strands grazing your cheek. "They're pretty, sure, not a patch on you." He responds, kissing your temple. The reply is so forthright and honest, like everything else he says to you. It's definitely the truth. Honestly, you wouldn't even be jealous if it was the girls that got him worked up. You know he's yours.

Settling back down, you continue watching, but curiosity is chewing on your brain. It's fuelled even further by a very familiar bulge that's now digging into the small of your back. 

It's only when you hear the character on screen saying 'his treasures, his prize breeders' and Eddie's hand grips your thigh hard, that you put two and two together. He tries to disguise it as a cough, but the damage is done. 

You tilt your head back a little so you can take in his profile. For once, Eddie looks nervous. His cheeks are flushed, eyes as wide as a bush baby, nibbling on his lip neurotically. He's never looked so flustered. 

The devil on your shoulder is whispering an idea in your brain that you can't ignore. Seeing him so worked up is doing something to you, blood travelling in between your legs. 

Softly, so he barely notices at first, you run your hands up and down his thighs. Gentle caresses, back and forth, until you feel him hum in his chest, melting slightly. He's relaxing beneath you. Your nails join in, dragging across the soft fabric of his sweatpants. 

"Eddie, am I your treasure?" You ask sweetly, voice as innocent as you can muster. 

"Of- of course, baby." He responds, a quiver in his voice, tensing up again at your words. 

"Is that what you want? For me to be your treasure?" You ask, pressing your back against him harder, beginning to gently grind on his bulge. 

"Wha-what do you m-mean?"

He staggers it out, his usual cadence gone. It's high pitched, almost whiny. This is going well out of your usual territory; it wasn't uncommon for Eddie to be pulling whimpers out of you, not the other way around.

You have to say it, to take the leap. 

Leaning to whisper right in his ear, you decide to just come out with it. 

"Do you want to breed me Eddie?" 

His eyes widen even further, mouth falling open. You continue to grind against him, your hands tracing higher up his thighs. 

"Is that it baby? You wanna fuck me raw, fill me up?" 

The noise he makes is alien to you. It's high, quivering and desperate. His breathing has quickened, hands coming to rest shakily on yours. 

Pulling them off you gently, you reach for the remote and pause the movie. Then, you swivel around so you can straddle him, throbbing heat pressed against his rock hard length. 

"Eddie, answer me." You say quietly, but firmly. His hands rest on your hips, anxiously rubbing the skin under your shirt. His shirt, the old one you'd stolen weeks ago. 

"I- I, erm, yeah, I mean, fuck" He stutters, losing control as you massage his length with each roll of your hips, only your panties and his sweats in the way of absolute pleasure. 

You grasp his chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing his gaze to meet yours. 

"Eddie. Words." 

"I mean, yeah." His voice is smaller than you've ever heard. Then, it all rushes out of his mouth in a jumble. 

"But I, I don't mean I want to like, have kids right now or something it's just-" 

"You like the fantasy." 

He nods so hard and fast it's almost comical. The puppy dog look he's giving you is so soft and you don't want to hurt his feelings, so you swallow your laugh. 

"You know, I was gonna mention earlier…" you start as you run a hand through the front of his hair, nails dragging on his scalp slightly, his eyes rolling back at the gesture.

"What sweetheart?" He all but whispers, his head rolling in tandem with your ministrations. 

"I'm on the pill now." 

His eyes snap back open, bugging out of his head almost. A laugh escapes then, you can't help it. It's a girlish giggle, which turns into a dirty smirk. 

Grinding against him harder, hand coming to rest on his chest, a moan sounds low inside you, echoing from deep within. The friction is good, making you wet, but it's not enough. 

You need him. Now. 

"So, you wanna fill me up? You can cum inside me, as many times as you want." 

"You'll let me?" He looks shocked.

"Oh please, sweets, please." 

His grip on your hips is harder now, fingers tight on your flesh. 

He all but sulks when you climb off him, pouting his bottom lip like a child. It's not for long though, as you shimmy out of your panties, discarding them somewhere on the floor. You pull his sweats off and away swiftly, to join the mire of mess on his carpet. 

Hovering back over him, you circle the tip of his leaking cock. It's teasing, you know, but he looks so flustered and sweaty and desperate. 

"Can I take this off?" He asks, tugging at the hem of your shirt, "please?" 

The question takes you back. You're not used to being in control, the thrill of it tingles through your nerves. You pull the top off very slowly, finally releasing your breasts. Eddie groans in his throat at the sight. 

As you sink down on him, you press your mouth on his, collecting his moans in your throat. Your pussy swallows him up, sucking him in greedily. You do the same with your tongue, fervently licking into him, heating up your mouth, your skin, your cunt. 

The room is soon filled with the sound of your slapping skin, your nails leaving red crescents into his shoulders. 

"Fuck, you feel so amazing. Go- go a bit slower, please." You comply, rocking into him, his swollen length jotting against your g spot with each pass. 

Leaning towards him, you let your lips brush against his ear, hot breath fanning against the shell of it. 

"This what you wanted baby, hmm? To feel everything…" Letting the word linger, you push against him harder, fingers winding into his hair. 

"Yeah, oh yes- fuck" 

"Yeah? You wanna cum inside me? Stuff me full of your cum? You want little Munsons running around the place, hmm?" 

He whimpers. He actually fucking whimpers. 

You pull on the lock of hair you've twisted in your grip, making his noises even more strangled. 

"Baby, oh my God, please, can I get on top?" 

"Of course, your treasure will do anything for you" you smirk. 

"Fuck!" 

He pushes you down then, flipping you onto the mattress as he fucks into you intensely, hand coming to your clit to rub tight circles. Even in his state he still wants you to come first. 

The coil in your stomach that has been tightening slowly speeds up at his touch, warming through your body, tingles reaching right to your fingers and toes. The heat is outstanding, buzzing between you both. Your insides are fluttering as you dig heels into his bare ass, forcing him as close as he can get, needing more, more. 

"Please come, Jesus Christ, I need it, I need it. Come so I can, please!" 

Its babble, spewing from his lips in urgent bubbles of sound. The subby neediness of it is what pushes you over that edge, clenching hard around his thick member, squeezing him to within an inch of his life. You scream out your release, throaty and rough, gripping his biceps tightly. 

"Oh my God sweets, fuck!" 

The feeling must be just as intense for him. You push him further, knowing he wants it. 

"Eddie, please cum inside me, I need your cum, I wanna feel it, fuckin' breed me Eddie." 

That was it, that pushed him over the edge; the word 'breed'. He releases deep inside, crying out your name so loudly you're sure the neighbours are going to complain. He's throbbing inside, still coming, and coming. Finally, it stops and he goes limp, slipping out of you. You accept his weight, holding him to you closely. 

A cold, wet feeling on your chest takes you by surprise. Looking down you see that Eddie is crying. Not hard, just little, hiccupping sobs that make your heart swell. 

"Shh, it's OK baby, it's OK." Attempting to placate him, your fingers run through his hair trying to soothe him. 

The whimpering stops and he looks at you, eyes almost shameful. 

"I'm so sorry that was pathetic, honestly-" 

"Baby, I ain't judging." Flashing him a soft smile. 

"I just never came that hard. Ever." 

Your chest swells with pride but you jolt as you feel his fingers on your soaking heat. 

"Baby what are you doing?" 

"Keeping my cum inside you." 

Giggles explode out of you, slapping his arm. He doesn't stop, fingers hard against your cunt.

"That was really fucking hot. I should let you take charge more often." 

"Let me? Seems I took charge all on my own." 

"And I thank you for it." He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your chin. 

He hesitates, fingers still harsh on your cunt. 

"Did you mean it?" 

"Mean what?" You stare down at him, confused. 

His voice drops down an octave, eyes flashing menace. 

"That I can cum in you, as much as I want?" 

Biting your lip, you nod. 

"Fill me up Eddie." 

"Fuuuck" He huffs, biting down on the soft skin of your breast, "give me five minutes and I'm gonna rock your world." 

Giggles are replaced by moans when he shoves two fingers inside your soaking cunt. 

Seems you've unlocked a new kink of his. You smile, happy to be his treasure. 

Taglist (I'm just tagging some likely candidates ;)

@munson-blurbs @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @emsgoodthinkin @names-were-taken @joejoequinnquinn @zestychili @lunatictardis @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @tlclick73 @corrodedcoffincumslut @unfocused81 @liminalpebble @truffleshuffle12 @bookshelf-dust

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

One Nap at a Time

Week #2 Prompt: Afternoon Naps | Word Count: 1992 | Rating: T | POV: Gareth | Pairings: Gareth & Eddie, Gareth & Steve, Steddie | Characters: Gareth, Steve, Eddie | CW: Language | Tags: Gareth & Eddie are BFFs, Road Manager Steve, Corroded Coffin on the Road, It's Exhausting, So. Naps. Lots of Naps

Eddie's already sprawled out on the couch in their venue dressing room, when Gareth flops down next to him, bumping his fist against Eddie's knee. 

"Steve's been screaming that it's four hours until soundcheck," Gareth says, leaning his head back against the cushions. They're a little lumpy, but he's so fucking tired, it doesn't matter.

This tour has been a goddamn bear, and they aren't even halfway through it.

They're never gonna make it. Not at this rate. They're gonna implode, one by one, and he thinks he might go first.

"I heard him," Eddie says, leaning back next to Gareth, "believe it or not, his voice carries."

It's snarky, but there's no heat there, just endless affection. It's gross, and Gareth swears he will never, ever act this way when he has a girlfriend. He'll make damn sure of it.

"Anyway. This is your four-hour warning," Gareth says, closing his eyes. Maybe he can catch a short nap. Twenty minutes would make a world of fucking difference, he's pretty damn sure. Then laughs, "You're the one that hired him to yell at us."

"Mistakes were made," Eddie says.

"No they weren't," Gareth answers, closing his eyes.

"No, they weren't," Eddie confirms, and even with his eyes closed, Gareth can hear the smile on Eddie's face, as his eyes feel heavier and heavier.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" 

Gareth hears Steve's voice, and jerks awake. Sitting bolt upright, disoriented.

Steve's standing at the edge of the couch, hands on his hips.

"What?" Gareth asks, still foggy, "Huh?"

And Steve laughs, pointing, and only then does Gareth realize that Eddie's still asleep on the couch and that he must have been laying against him, or on top of him, one or the other.

And Gareth smirks. 

"Jealous?" Gareth asks.

Steve rolls his eyes, saying dryly, "Yes. Terribly."

"In that case then," Gareth laughs, and lays back down, squeezing between Eddie and the back of the couch. Eddie must feel the movement, because Eddie slings his arm over Gareth's side, pulling him closer. 

"Soooo comfy," Gareth hisses, taunting Steve, but not wanting to wake Eddie up if he can help it.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve says, "this is your hour warning. Got it?"

Gareth whines, but Steve taps him on the toe of his shoe.

"An hour? Seriously? You sure?" Gareth asks, because that can't be right.

Steve sighs, exasperated, "You don't think I can tell time now? Yes. Seriously. An hour."

They've been asleep for three fucking hours? Holy shit. He couldn't even begin to guess the last time he's gotten three hours of sleep straight. Weeks, for sure. Maybe longer.

Steve's still busy working himself into a lather, "Gareth, if I have to come back, so help me-"

"I got it," Gareth interrupts. 

"Good."

An hour isn't nearly enough time. Not at all. But it's better than nothing, Gareth supposes. So, he sets the alarm on Eddie's watch, Eddie sleeping through the whole process, just to make sure they don't oversleep and piss off Steve.

And an hour later, Eddie's slept through his wrist beeping, but Gareth hasn't, so he shakes Eddie awake, "Steve's beckoned us."

Eddie stretches, sitting up on the ugly couch that's more comfortable than it looks, rolling his shoulders. Eddie yawns, and that's about right. Nap or not, they've been spread too thin.

Then, Eddie says, "Damn. That was the best nap I've had in a while. I might actually be half-rested before a show. What are the fucking odds of that?"

And Gareth laughs, because he agrees, wholeheartedly.

The tour continues, and so do the naps. In green rooms, dressing rooms, hotel rooms. On the bus. Wherever they are, Gareth will find Eddie and squeeze in with him, and go to sleep. Or Eddie'll find him. It's almost like their early days on the road, when they had to share a motel bed. It's comfortable, and normal, being this close, so much so, that it's put them both right to sleep when they've needed it most.

And Gareth thinks nothing of it. Steve comes to get them, or Goodie, or Jeff, and when it's time to roll, they'll get moving. 

One more show scratched off the schedule, one more nap taken somewhere along the never ending road.

And then the tour ends. Months on the road over, as they chipped away at the schedule, one show at a time. Now, headed home in time for Christmas.

Gareth isn't sure what the fuck he'll do with himself. It's been a long fucking time since his time has been all his own. Is he just supposed to go home to his mom, and do what? Nothing? Maybe he can just crash with Eddie and Steve?

Though, he's sure they're ready for some fucking privacy for a change. 

Maybe Goodie and Jeff will entertain him. Let him into their secret best friend circle, for once.

He doesn't know, but he'll have time to figure it out. Right now, they're tidying the bus up as they head home, trying to get it ready to send it back to the company they leased it from, when Steve turns up. Book in his hands. It's not his tour bible, though, and the schedule is over anyway. No need to keep meticulous notes anymore, so Gareth's a little confused.

"What's up?" he asks, stuffing clothes into duffels and suitcases. His shit grew over the months, accumulating over time, and now he doesn't have room to pack it all up again. He'll have to resort to a trash bag he's pretty damn sure.

"Got something for you. For you and Eddie," Steve says, and Gareth knows he's up to no good. Steve's face is schooled neutral, but he can read him like a goddamn book after all this time in each other's back pockets. And he's up to something. For sure.

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

Steve hands over the book, and Gareth flips it open. 

And he laughs, yelling, "Eddie!"

Eddie pops through the curtain, "What's up?"

And Gareth shows him, and relishes the sound of Eddie cackling, head tossed back, fucking amused. Charmed. In love with Steve, and everything he does. Including this.

A book of Polaroids. Dozens. Maybe, hundreds. 

Every single one a picture of Gareth and Eddie asleep together, in various positions, on various couches, all across the country. Sometimes one of the other guys is posing in front of them, making faces, but mostly, it's just them. 

The story of this tour, one nap at a time.

Gareth shoves the book into Eddie's hands, and catches Steve by the neck, squeezing him tight. 

And Steve laughs, hugging back.

"Thanks, Steve. That's a fun souvenir from this hellacious tour."

Steve just shrugs, "I didn't realize how many we'd get when we started this little project."

And Gareth hooks his chin over Eddie's shoulder, looking down as Eddie keeps flipping through the pages. Gareth was here first, he has best friend privileges, and first dibs, but he knows Steve loaned Eddie back to him these past few months. There's no question about that. One nap at a time, giving them time together, even if it was just to sleep in what appears to be uncomfortable positions, one random couch at a time.

"Maybe someday they'll be worth money. Some good blackmail," Steve says.

"No way, we're proud of these," Eddie says, "it proves we can sleep anywhere."

And it kind of does. It also probably proves they're immune to head lice. Some of those couches were pretty gross, looking back at the photographic evidence.

Eddie points at one where Gareth's feet are in his face, "Look? I didn't die from the smell alone."

Gareth bites his shoulder, and Eddie laughs even harder.

There are no secrets between them, no privacy. He's taken showers with Eddie, shared beds and bathrooms. Underwear and toothbrushes. Looked at, and has shown, all manner of questionable bumps and rashes. Held hair and hands, cleaned up puke, and one time they never, ever speak of - actual shit.

A few naps are nothing on the friendship intimacy scale.

Eddie looks at the bunk, the one that Gareth's sort of cleaned out, and asks, "One more for the road?"

Gareth laughs, but agrees, crawling into the cramped space, nearly on top of Eddie.

"It was a good tour, kid," Eddie says, hand splayed against Gareth's back, keeping him from falling out of the bunk and onto the floor of the bus.

"Yeah," Gareth agrees, "and the next one will be even better."

At home, back in Hawkins, Gareth wanders around. A little lost. He's tired, but wired, all at the same time. It's weird to go, go, go and then just stop. Cold turkey. That's never worked for him for anything else, so he's not sure why it would work for stopping touring, either.

They should have tapered down, weaned themselves off.

He rides his old bike, because his El Camino battery is deader than shit, after sitting so long. He hopes Goodie and Jeff will come over later and give him a jump, to get it up and running. If not, Steve will.

He doesn't realize where he's headed, until he's already there. Harrington House. He drops his bike in the yard like he's a kid again, and heads for the front door. Letting himself in. Steve is at the bar, doing paperwork.

Always doing paperwork.

"Hey," Steve says, looking at him for a moment, and then back down at the papers spread out beneath him.

"Isn't the tour over, what work do you have left now? You're supposed to be on vacation, relaxing in your new digs," Gareth says, leaning against the counter. 

"Just, running the final numbers."

"We end up in the black?" Gareth asks, leaning over to look. But he doesn't understand Steve's chicken-scratch shorthand, and gives up.

"Looks like it," Steve says, and Gareth grins. They got to play music, night after night, week after week, month after month, and even made some money doing it. Hot damn.

"Where's Eddie at, anyway?" Gareth asks.

"Trying to take a nap," Eddie mutters from the couch in the living room. Gareth hadn't even realized he was there. 

"Sorry," Gareth calls back, he can take a hint and go. He squeezes Steve on the shoulder, getting ready to leave, when Eddie speaks again.

"Don't be sorry, kid," Eddie says, then asks, "you in?"

Hell yes, he's in. 

"Steve, get the camera, I'm goin' in," Gareth says.

"I'll get right on that," Steve says dryly, but Gareth can see that he's smiling. 

Gareth toes off his shoes by the door, and then hurries into the living room, following Eddie's voice, telling him to hurry the fuck up. 

When he gets there, Eddie makes room, scooting over so Gareth can settle in alongside him. And Gareth stretches out, resting his arm over Eddie's waist. 

This couch is much more comfortable than any of the others have been. Steve has good taste, expensive taste, and picked something damn comfortable for a nice, long nap.

"Steve's couch is nice," Gareth says, face muffled in Eddie's shoulder.

"Everything about Steve is nice, haven't you learned that by now, kid?" Eddie mumbles, and Gareth smiles. He might have taken a while to warm up to Steve Harrington, but now, even Gareth has to admit that he's perfect for Eddie. He makes Eddie happy, and that's all Gareth could ask for, honestly. That Eddie's happy. And loved.

It doesn't hurt that Steve's shaped up their tour schedule, either. It was long, and exhausting, but they made it through. Left to their own devices, he's not sure that would have been true.

"What'd you do today?" Eddie asks, stifling a yawn. 

And Gareth closes his eyes, telling Eddie about his day, until he feels when Eddie goes slack beside him, back to sleep again. Gareth trails off, stops talking, and lets himself fall asleep, too.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌞

[veltana]

Sell my soul - 1

✦ Pairing: Lloyd Hansen/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~1k

✦ Rating for this part: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Alpha!Lloyd, Omega!Reader, omega auction, slow burn, eventual smut, pet names (sugar plum).

✦ Summary: Lloyd buys you

✦ Note: Due note that this is a drabble series and the parts will be short, but I hope you like it any way! I started writing this because Lloyd was trying to hijack my brain and take over the Buy my heart series, so he got his own instead, and I'm gonna make him suffer 😈 Reblogs, comments and asks are much appreciated!

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

“This is bullshit,” you mutter as you pull on the sheer dress. It's basically see-through. Why can't you wear regular clothes? Isn't it embarrassing enough that you have to sell yourself, you have to be as close to naked as possible also?

But you do it anyway and don't say anything more. This is really your very last resort. Everything else you've tried so far has been a failure.

Panic starts to rise in your chest. What if he's out there? What if he buys you?

Then you realize that everyone sitting out there is an alpha and he wouldn't be allowed in. It calms your nerves a bit but you still glance around now and then as you wait for your turn. He's found you before. You're not safe anywhere.

“This is bullshit,” Lloyd growls as he adjusts the mask covering his face. He recognizes the scents of at least three alphas, despite being unable to see their faces. The masks aren't hiding shit. He knows they're more for the omegas on stage than for the alphas but so far the entire event has been a disappointment, and he regrets attending.

Instead, he studies the high ceiling and artwork on the walls, only glancing at the omegas appearing, one after another getting bought.

Just as he's about to up and leave the omega on stage catches his attention. Eyes that keep flickering and a stubborn mouth, but otherwise delectable! He raises his paddle before he even knows it. A few people bid too, but Lloyd is determined. His paddle is the last to go up.

The omega's mouth is a thin line. A smile cracks Lloyd's face below the mask as he rises and makes his way out to pick up his newly acquired omega.

“Be nice, be nice, be nice. Be nice to the alpha who bought you. You need his protection.” You remind yourself as you stand outside in your clothes after being shown out by the attendant. There isn't an alpha around and your eyes keep searching. You don't like to be out in the open like this but if you huddle against the wall he's probably going to think you're weird. Or you'd have to explain.

With a roar, a flashy sports car pulls up. The owner steps out and looks at you. He’s tall with neat hair slicked back, a mustache above his smile, eyes sparkling with glee. You look away, he obviously thinks you're a prostitute. It would be great if your fucking alpha could show up.

“Hey, get in!” The man calls. You glance at him before saying, “I'm waiting for someone.” “Yeah, me! Omega, get over here right now or I'll command you.”

You stare at him. He waves a piece of paper. “You're the alpha who bought me?” “Damn straight, sugar plum!” Sugar plum?! Your name is on the paper!

“Actually,” you begin but he interrupts you. “We can talk in the car, come on now!” Displeased, you walk over.

The inside looks barely used but it’s filled with his scent. It’s a delicious perfume that smells like the woods after it's rained, an earthy clean smell with an undertone of burnt sugar that makes you think of creme brulee. Saliva pools in your mouth and you ignore it.

Your new alpha, who still hasn't introduced himself, steps on the gas and the car shoots down the road. “Where are we going?” “To my place, it’s not far!” At the speed he's driving, you're downtown within minutes, too focused on holding on to ask any other questions. He doesn't offer any more answers, either. Soon, you lose track of where you are, finding yourself in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Elegant houses and high-rise buildings blend together unnaturally. He parks in an underground garage, and the elevator ascends to the tenth floor. Everything looks new and untouched almost. You've never been in such a place before.

Inside the door, you stop and stare. The apartment you used to live in was a perfectly adequate size, but this is ridiculous. On top of that everything is spotless and sleek. Sure, his scent is present in the apartment, but otherwise it looks like no one lives in it, very similar to the car. Your new alpha seems to be very neat.

You look down at yourself. It's been a while since you had the opportunity to wash your clothes properly. The bag in your hand with your few belongings has seen better days. The alpha struts into the apartment, not noticing you've stopped. You don't have socks on so you don't want to take off your shoes.

Frozen in place you can't decide what to do. Everything is just too much. But you're still at the front door, if you turn around you can run and go back to what you know. It would be easier in a way. He doesn't know you. He has a name but it won't get him anywhere.

Steps coming towards you snap you out of it and you meet the eyes of the alpha. They are calm and blue. The urge to run settles and you notice he has a bundle of clothes in his arms.

“You'll have to borrow some of my stuff until we've washed yours and gotten you more clothes. Bathroom is this way,” he jerks his head and turns around. This time you follow.

The bathroom has everything one could wish for and you look longingly at the tub. How long ago was it that you had a real bath? The alpha puts the bundle down on top of a basket and then shows you where to find towels and what all the different dials in the shower do. You nod, trying to keep up.

Then he turns and heads out but before he shuts the door you blurt out, “Wait! What's your name?”

He turns around and grins at you in a way that is both creepy and at the same time not unpleasant. “It's Lloyd Hansen, sugar plum.”

next

[lady-of-tearshed]

The last date.

Ruhn Danaan x Reader

Summary: You are accumulating bad dates, and your best friend, Ruhn, is always there to comfort you when you need him to. He always knows exactly what he needs to do in order to boost your mood.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Mention of sexual activities but nothing explicit. A little bit of angst.

“I took your ass out tonight!”

Your hands fly to unbuckle your seatbelt, tears burning your eyes and shattering your heart from this alphahole nasty words. What a fucked up thing to say on a date, only because you didn't agree to go home with him to fuck. “Stop the car.” You urge him, taking your seatbelt off.

“What?!” His eyes leave the road briefly, and he dares to stare at you, looking all confused. What a poor loser.

“Stop the fucking car or I’m jumping out!” The tire screeched, the car stopping so abruptly you almost hit your head on the windshield. You've made yourself pretty fucking clear. Good.

You open the door, completely ignoring the shift in the lion shifter’s voice, now more softer than his previous annoyed one as he calls out for you. “Y/N-”

“Go.Fuck.Yourself.” You cut him off, your voice as sharp as a blade, and you step out of the car.

The atmosphere is heavy, both of your chest heaving heavily as you stand straight on the sidewalk. You keep your chin high, tightly gripping onto the luxury, and probably very expensive, door of the car. You wait in hope to, at the very least, get wished a respectful goodnight. But your crude words had hurt the male’s ego a bit more than you expected.

“Obviously I will, since you won’t do it. After all I’ve done for you...” He rudely says, his teeth clenching so tightly you could hear their unpleasant gritting. You slam the door, hard. Not giving a damn about how you might’ve broken it. He speeds down the street, leaving you standing there, at your request.

You shoot him a last fuck you, joinging a obscene hand gesture with your vile words, before you see the car turn a corner, and disappear from your sight.

You run your hand across your face, not caring that it would smudge your makeup.

What the fuck was this date.

That's it. You are done. Done dating. All of the dates you've been on lately ended up being with shitty alphaholes. You have reached your limit.

You take a big shaky sigh, trying to control your trembling hands as you reach for your purse to take out your phone, and call the only person you trusted to get you back home.

You dialed the number, the phone ringing once, twice-

“Y/N? You're okay?”

Ruhn… Maybe it's just the alcohol you had inhibited earlier tonight, or the exhaustion, or the accumulation of failed dates that are making you feel so sentimental. You gulp down your tears, and clear your throat. “Could you, uh… Could you pick me up?”

You immediately hear Ruhn starting to rustle and get ready on the other side of the phone. “Of course, I'm coming right up, send me your location,” His keys jingle, then you can discern the sound of the motor of his car roaring. You quickly pull the phone away from your ear, putting him on speaker so you can text him your location. “Are you okay though? Are you safe?” He urges, and you realize you haven't answered his question the first time he asked it.

“Yeah, I'm…” You hesitate. Yes what? Yes you were okay? That would be a lie, and you wouldn't lie to Ruhn. “Safe.” You finish, hoping that your answer will do the job.

“Okay, I'll be there in ten minutes maximum,” You can hear him start to drive off, the ticking of his car flasher echoing in the background of the phone call. “Do you want me to stay on the line?” He questions, his voice soft and yet laced with concern.

You aren't even sure what you want anymore. You dab the back of your finger on your inferior lid, trying to dry the tears before they roll out of your eyes. “No, it's fine.” But is it? Your stomach churn, disgusted to be, again, asking your friend to rescue you from an horrible date.

You and your poor choices in men.

“Alright, I'll be right there, stay safe.” Ruhn's soft voice rings from your phone.

The gentleness of his voice makes your cheeks heat slightly, and your heart flutters at how much he cares. “Yeah, love you.” The words slip out on their own, and you gape, staring at your phone, almost dropping it to the ground.

But Ruhn laughs from the other side of the phone, not seeming to be bothered at all from your outburst of affection. “Yeah, love you too.” He teases, reusing your own words, before hanging up.

Oh you fucked up. Why did you say that?! What's wrong with you?! You groan, putting your phone back into your purse and cross your bare arms on your chest. You try to heat yourself up, a difficult task indeed, considering there's only a short, too short in your opinion but perfectly short in Bryce's opinion, pretty black dress.

Your heels are killing you, so you take them off your feet, hissing at the cold contact of the sidewalk on your bare feet. That for sure is a nice way to sober you up.

Before you can bend down to pick them up, Ruhn’s car stops right in front of you, and he quickly gets out of the car to help you out. “My sister dressed you up again?” He snickers, picking up your heels then easily lifts you up into his tattooed arms before settling you down on the passenger seat.

“Why, you think I can't dress myself up for a date?” You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. Ruhn rests his arms on the top of the car, slightly leaned forward, and rolls his eyes. He pulls out a ticket out of his leather jacket, and you snatch it out of his fingers, inspecting it.

A car wash coupon.

You hum, turning it over in your hands as Ruhn smirk grows bigger with every passing second. He closes the door, and takes the seat beside yours, settling behind the wheel. “Am I forgiven for my misplaced teasing?”

“Is it the car wash where they have the pretty lights and the tricolor foam?”

“Yes.”

Your fake pout turns into a smile and you uncross your arms, kicking your feet excitedly. “Then you are forgiven.”

Ruhn stops at the gas station to fill his tank before you two go to the car wash. You wait for him in the car, scrolling on your phone. A phone call pops up on your screen.

Brandon 💕

You quickly decline the call, erase the contact name and block his number from your phone. You sigh, pushing it aside. At the same moment, Ruhn opens the driver’s door with two slushies in hand. One red, one blue.

Ruhn grins, then hands over the red one, your favorite, to you. “Moral support drink,” He winks at you, and clings his plastic cup with yours. The cherry flavored shredded ice melts in your mouth, soothing every nerve of your body. You peer at Ruhn from the corner of your eyes as he drives to the entry of the car wash. His tattooed arm stretches out the window to slide the ticket in the machine, and the heavy car wash door buzzes.

Blue, pink, green, orange lights welcome you in as the car moves slowly inside. You'd never get tired of this kind of…

What is this called, a date? Between friends? Yeah. Probably.

The blush heating up your cheek is hidden by the bright changing lights of the car wash, and you jolt out of your thoughts at the sound of the water starting to spray the car. Ruhn hands over the phone wire connected to his car to you. “Want to put on some of your music?” You nod, connecting your phone to his car and scrolling through your playlist.

Ruhn taps his fingers on the wheel as the two of you keep sipping your drinks in silence for a while, drowning in all of the sounds and colors of the car wash. Ruhn was the one to break the silence first. “So…”

“So..?”

He bites down on his lower lip, thinking about his next words. “Mind to explain to me why you ended up tipsy and dressed…” He stops, taking a moment to look at your ravishing, yet quite revealing dress. A breath catches in his throat, and he scratches the back of his neck, trying to ease some tension. “Dressed heavenly, standing on a sidewalk, alone, in the middle of a relatively chill night?” He finishes.

You sigh, looking away from him. You play with the purple straw of your cup, swirling it around to make the rest of the shredded ice melt, in hope it will give you a few more sips. “Bad date.” You mumble under your breath, the shame of again seeking comfort from Ruhn after a bad date. But Ruhn didn't seem to mind for one bit. Always picking up his phone and dropping everything he was doing the second you need him.

Ruhn nods, and takes a long sip of his drink, the two of you staying silent once again. The tricolor foam soap starts its calming pitter platter on the top of the car, and you drift your eyes up from your cup to admire the mousse landing on the windshield. “And how's this date going so far?” Your eyes widen, and Ruhn feels his heart skip a beat at his sudden boldness.

“What kind of date?” You risk asking him. Your heart is beating incredibly fast as he dives his beautiful blue eyes into yours.

His usual playful grin has completely gone vacant from his face, his expression more serious than you've ever seen him as he speaks. “The kind of date I wish would turn us into more than… friends.” The last word tastes bitter on Ruhn's tongue as he swallows down his nervousness.

He had absolutely no clue why tonight is the night he suddenly got the guts to confess his feelings for you. Surely, his sister's pep talk had helped him get that broomstick out of his butt.

You admire the way the changing lights made Ruhn's blue eyes tinted with every color. Your hand instinctively reaches for his cheek, his soul singing to yours to come closer. His beauty was hypnotizing you, and the way he opened up his heart to you, sitting there, vulnerable beside you makes your heart swell.

Your hand rests against his chest, and you can feel his heart beneath the palm of your hand, it is beating as fast as yours. “I swear to every Gods, Ruhn Danaan…” You whisper, and his hand tangles with the hair at your nape when you bring your face only inches away from his. “That you're the last fucking male I give a chance to.”

“And I promise you that I'll worship you everyday of my life for this chance.” He murmurs, before your lips finally get a chance to taste each other. You shiver at the feeling of Ruhn's cold lips, especially as his lips piercing glides over your lower lip. His hand quickly unbuckles the two of your seat belts, and he parts his lips from yours quickly to back his seat so he can slide you over his laps comfortably.

You straddle him, his hands sliding up your dress on your hips so you can comfortably put your knees on each side of him. You attach your hips back to his, and he kisses you back, deeper this time, as he slides his tongue against yours, both of your slushies flavors mixing in your mouths.

You jolt and your lips break apart when the loud ringing of the car wash indicates that the session is over. You timidly move off Rhun's lap with his help, bursting out laughing when your butt accidently presses the honk in the process. Ruhn moves his seat forward, adjusting himself behind the wheel, while you start putting your seatbelt back on.

Your fingers brushes your lips softly, feeling as if the feeling of Ruhn’s lips against yours was still lingering there. The tattooed male keeps his eyes fixed on the road as he drives away from the car wash, cheeks flustered and still panting slightly. “Sorry, I-” He gulps down, but before he can apologize more, you burst out laughing.

He could listen to this sound for centuries and never get tired of it.

“Don't worry, it was perfect.” You bite your lower lip, and you hesitantly brush your pinky against his. He wraps his fingers with yours, and squeezes them softly, never wanting to let go.

“So… I guess that means I get to take you out on more dates?” He says, trying to keep his voice steady as he speaks.

“I guess it does.” You smirk.

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe

[barleyo]

Your requests are open... you've put the words "Corrupt Cop Daichi" in my brain... Imagine you're just like. Driving on the highway and you're not even speeding but somehow he knows what you look like so he pulls you over because you're a cutie patootie... Dubious consent follows... Daichi in a cop uniform... Reader bent over the backseat of the cop car, door open, fully visible from the road but not caring because CoP dAiChI? AHHhhhhHH? (Idek if this counts as corrupt but cop daichi is cop daichi you know)

It's 9:30 in the morning but it's never too early for Cop Daichi argargargargargarg

Mr. Officer.

Cop! Daichi Sawamura X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: CORRUPT COP DAICHI IS MY EVERYTHING!!! Ugh dirty nasty cops who abuse their power :3 I wanted to make him mean, but my sweet, sweet Daichi could never be mean to a pretty girl... he still gets crazy with power though!

Tags: power play/imbalance, alcohol mention, small age gap (18—23), dub-con, p in v, quickies, coercion n all that good stuff :3

Wordcount: 900-ish

God, you were lucky that you were pretty, because you certainly weren't smart or slick. Daichi knew college kids were stupid, always doing risky stuff for the hell of it, but really? You were too drunk to walk in a straight line, let alone to be behind the wheel of a vehicle. 

He couldn't help but feel the pang of interest he felt when he got a good look at you after pulling you over. With the way you were driving, he was certain you'd be a blind old lady, but no. Just a college cutie. Damn it, it was hard to be stern with those. 

"Ma'am, do you know why I pulled you over?" he asked, trite words second nature to him by now. 

If you googled the definition of the word "wasted," your face in that moment would be the illustration accompanying it. 

Your face was red and warmed, no doubt tinted by all the cheap liquor you threw back at whatever frat party you came from. Eyes lazy and half-lidded. Hiccups and inconsolable giggles.

"No," you said, drunken euphoria flooding through your system. "I'm sorry, Mr. Problem, is there an officer?"

"Jesus Christ."

Daichi pinched the bridge of his nose, not entirely sure what to do with you. On one hand, it was his job to take you into the station, take your name down, and rat on you to your parents. Maybe scare you straight with a few nights in a holding cell.

On the other, well, you were a sweet little thing. Drunk and stupid as you may have been, he didn't have the heart to haul you away like a criminal. Girls with pretty faces aren't meant for life behind bars, even if only for a couple of hours. 

"C'mon, let's get you out of here. Step out of the vehicle, please," he ordered weakly, still conflicted. 

You complied, of course, stepping out and stumbling, falling forward. He caught you, letting you hold onto his forearms during your spell of dizziness. 

You stayed in his arms, drunkenly fiddling with the walkie talkie strapped to his shirt while you prattled off whined and pleas.

"Am I in trouble?" you asked while running a hand over his arms. "You're not gonna be a 'cop' about this whole thing, are you?"

He held back a snort, peering down at you. He made no effort to get you off of him, in fact, he rather liked the way you were feeling up on him. His nightly patrol was getting a little boring, and he usually had to deal with violent, dumb-as-hell college guys who drove drunk.

Cute, touchy, drunk, dumb-as-hell college girls were the easier route by far.

"Kinda my job, hon," he replied, struggling to keep a stern tone. "How much did you have to drink tonight?"

"Nothing, I swear," you slurred, shaking your head at him in defense. "Totally sober! Promise!"

Bullshit.

"Yeah, right. 'Nothing' meaning every drink handed to you, I assume?"

"Okay, maybe, but I can drive fine!"

"You almost served into a tree earlier," he deadpanned, placing his hands on your shoulders with an unamused look. 

You giggled right in his face, pressing your warm face against his chest. 

"You're funny."

What the hell was he supposed to do with you now?!

Once he clicked his bodycam off, he knew he was going to give in. He was only a man, and men are weak. Something about you, how easily the situation was playing out— it was too tempting. It almost felt like a set-up, or maybe that was just his guilt and paranoia acting up.

He wasn't alone in this, his buddies in the force pulled sly shit like this all the time. No harm, no foul, right? You get off scot-free and he gets a little something in return. 

Everyone's happy. 

You definitely sounded happy, squeals and moans falling from your mouth while he bent you over the hood of your car. 

He knew he was wrong for this. He didn't care. It was dark out, chances of someone catching him low. Besides, it was hard to focus on anything other than the wet, warm hole clenching over him. 

"Lower your volume," he warned, pace unsteady and sharp. The hand he had wrapped over one of your thighs tightened its grip, warning you. "You want someone to see you like this?"

He could see the back of your head shake 'no,' and could hear your moans start to muffle themselves with a bite of your bottom lip. 

"Awh, didn't mean t'shut you up," his voice was softer, hand running over your hip apologetically. "Lemme hear you, jus' don't get too loud."

He was already sloppy with how he was fucking you, but when he heard the pathetic cry that you let out, his body was inconsolable. He wasn't in control anymore, he just let himself be led by pure lust. 

He pressed a shaking hand on your lower back, deepening your arch for him. He bullied your cervix's tip, acutely aware of how sensitive it was. This was far deeper than any guy had ever reached for you, way deeper. 

An intense flush of pleasure ran over you while you came. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the risk of it all, or maybe just the hot officer doing it to you, but your orgasm felt much stronger than you had felt any other time. The feeling of his cum landing on your ass and the sound of his deep groans were just the cherry on top of it all. 

[someweirdoreblogger]

Qin Shi Huang is an enthusiastic kisser. Hungry, thrill seeking, forever determined. He devours your willing maw like the king he is, a feast laid out before him for the taking.

The world hangs on the tip of his tongue, a star in the middle, and a happy explosion burning an unforgettable tang at the beginning. Kisses aren't negotiated. Stolen clean off the naked sliver of your lips, right where you least expect it.

The greatest king of all time can't help but show off, Qin Shi Huang succeeds in what he does and isn't afraid to prove so. One does what one can. And when Qin sees an opportunity to cause playful banter, how can he resist making a strom? His royal blood within itself is a natural anticipation, and his cheerful mood increases to an unparalled margin when his love appears in his path.

It shines brightly in Qin's charisma just how much he adores you, walls be damned if they get in the way of seeing his most cherished one. He can act a little childish, but Qin means well first and foremost.

When Qin isn't paving the road toward you straight behind, harmlessly tackling you to oblivion and beyond-dramatic as ever, instead, he's almost always aims for what truly matters most.

Your mouth.

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

Taming the Bull - Snippet

A/N: so this is a snippet of my college AU of Miguel x Reader, Reader x Gabriel, the love triangle thingy. I just thought this was so funny teeheehee!

You get into the car, heart throbbing painfully in your chest. You lay your head against the steering wheel, fighting the urge to breakdown. This is all too much. You long to be with Miguel, but by being with him, you hurt Gabriel.

Besides, Miguel has been with nearly every woman on campus. What if wanted another notch in his belt? All his sweet, tooth rotting words...what if they're a ploy to get you into bed?

You sniffle, straightening up and pulling out of the parking lot. A little drive around the city wouldn't hurt. Maybe go visit the beach. You're driving through the parking lot when a large body throws themselves onto the hood of your car with a loud thunk. You scream, slamming on the break.

"Miguel?" you say in shock, rolling down the window. "What the hell are you doing!"

Miguel places his large hands on the windshield, brown eyes staring into your face with burning determination.

"I'm not giving up on you! I meant what I said! I want to be with you! It's always been you!" Miguel yells. He speaks the absolute truth. "I know I've been an ass, and I'm trying to change. You are who I want!"

"Miguel, get off of my car, or I'm driving off with you on it," you snarl, slamming your horn.

He hardly flinches at the blaring horn. "No! You need to know how much I want to be with you."

You glare at him and press on the gas pedal, tearing through the parking lot. Miguel holds on for dear life, but he doesn't break his gaze. "Please, you have to believe me!"

"I'm not listening to you!"

You pull onto the street and drive down the busy streets.

"You're the one I want to be with. You're the one I want. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Because you've slept with nearly every woman here! Besides, aren't you the same one who told Gabriel that you just wanted to sleep with me?"

Miguel grinds his teeth. Damn him brother. "I did say that, but that's before we reconnected. Your the kindest person I've ever met. You stop to allow ducks to cross the street. You help tutor others. You take the time to talk to random strangers if they look just a little sad!"

You continue to drive, heading to the beach. People give you strange looks with Miguel on the hood of your car, but right now, you can give two shits.

"You think I don't pay attention to the little things you do, but I catch on! You hug any pillow to hide your beautiful body. You cover your mouth when you laugh. When you get passionate about something, your eyes light up and you don't care how loud or excited you get, and god fucking damnit, that's fucking cute!"

"You don't mean that! Just shut up!"

"I do! I mean it!" Miguel's face is smushed into the glass, his body swinging back and forth against the hood, but he holds on tightly. "You're the one I want to be with!"

"No I'm not!"

You head down the winding road to the beach, driving through the sand towards the water. "I swear I will drive into the fucking ocean! Leave me alone!"

"No! Because you need to know how much I care about you!"

"Man, fuck you!"

You drive straight into the water, and both you and Miguel have to trudge out of waters and back to shore.

[brujahinaskirt]

Just some lil' thangs you might not notice about the level of detail RDR2 puts into Arthur's interactions with horses if you aren't personally experienced with horses:

[Sorry if this has been done! I couldn't find a post like it in recent tumblr history, and hope I can at least add some thoughts that haven't been analyzed to death already!]

(First, a note about me: I was raised on a quarter horse ranch and trained by a cadre of old-school cowboys in the Western tradition. Some of them were excellent teachers and some of them were crabby-faced bastards who thought "horsemanship" = engaging in a constant war with your horse... which gives me a little insight into positive and negative horsemanship styles on display in RDR2.)

(Second, thanks to fellow horsegirl @mangocats for helping me compile this list!)

(Third, a simple note to say that although I playfully use the term "horsegirl" in this post, the notes here apply to any gender. Same goes for the use of terms like "horsemen," which is not commonly used in the Western equestrian world to indicate a rider's real gender.)

Now, without further ado:

Press X to Calm. Arthur uses a tried-and-true low-stress, gradual escalation method of approaching and calming a spooked horse that begins with establishing physical contact with one hand and slowly increasing contact until the horse is fully calm and is once more amenable to human direction & commands. This is usually a preferable method to getting a frightened horse under control imo, but it's a "soft hand" method, and not something you always see in machismo-loaded equestrian circles. I've written about this a little in another meta post, so I won't get too deeply into it here.

Overall Horsemanship Style. You'll notice that while he does occasionally drive them hard in emergencies such as escaping the law or chasing a train, Arthur never "forces" his horses to comply with commands; in other words, he doesn't use his strength to try and bully a horse into doing something, like crossing a river, or physically punish a horse to "desensitize" it. "Forcing" horses to do things using tack designed to create discomfort or using raw bodily intimidation + fear & pain-motivated negative reinforcement is a tragically common tradition in old-school Western riding (and still advocated by some popular TV equestrians whom I think are straight-up animal abusers... if you know you know). It's dismal, but for a lot of the cowboys I know/knew, when a horse isn't obeying, you need to "show it who's boss." Arthur never approaches animals this way. By contrast, especially for the time period, he is exceedingly patient with horses and animals in general. We can even see this in his dialogue to wild horses; when they gradually calm down after the initial "breaking in" process, Arthur usually says something companionable like, "See, we're friends now."

And a sub-point on that: Horsemanship Temperament. Arthur never gets mad at or yells at his horse. Even when he gets chucked to the ground, he'll yell DAMN, THAT HURT, and then it's back to trying to calm the spooked horse. Which is exactly the right attitude to have. (Though if you've never been hurled face-first into a pile of sun-baked manure because your horse saw, idk, a twig on the road, you might not appreciate how even-tempered a character Arthur is for never succumbing to the temptation to yell, "COME ONNNN GIVE ME A BREAK IT'S A STICK YOU SILLY BITCH!")

Horse responsiveness. The horse emotional cues in this game are incredible, from their reactions to other animals and weather events to their reactions to Arthur. You can see the horse's neck muscles tense and relax when being calmed, their eyes changing in size, their head drop and raise in response to the reins, and their annoyance seeping through with stomps and pinned ears well before they start to spook. When Arthur speaks to his horses, you can even see a subtle ear flick backwards as they listen to him. When he gives certain commands (such as a mild squeeze of the knees to speed up a bit), a calm and attentive horse will often issue an affirmative snort; this is incredibly lifelike and essentially a "roger roger" between horse and rider. I was also impressed that Arthur uses his thighs and his knees to cue his horse more than his heels. Usually you just see the dramatic heel cues in in video games, but in real life, a rider gently but firmly squeezes their knees/thighs far more often than laying into their horse with boot heels, which is a fabulous way to get sent to the moon. One thing I would have liked to see is more riderless idle horse animations. Lazy or bored horses do a very classic pose where they rest their weight on one side, cock a hip out, and jauntily kick a back hoof up. It would have been right at home at the hitching posts in RDR2, and the horses are otherwise so lifelike, I find myself missing this little pose.

Historical bits. As players, we don't have much choice with this, since Rockstar matched bits to saddles rather than letting us customize them. With that disclaimer out of the way: Arthur uses a wide range of bits, some of them much harsher than others, designed to offer more control over a difficult horse's head through pressure points within the mouth. This is historically sound and far from obsolete in modern horsemanship, though I would certainly avoid using some of the harsher bits in RDR2 on my horses to avoid hurting them accidentally. That said, it's important to note that "harsh" control bits (like those wickedly straight-shanked bits you see with some of the cooler saddle styles) aren't instantly or automatically painful. While many of us modern horsegirls may frown upon the just-for-the-hell-of-it use of many styles of old-school, Wild West bit, in the hands of an experienced horseman with a good sense of appropriate rein pressure (which we can assume Arthur is), even a curb bit should not be a tool of pain. In the hands of a novice, however, some of those bits would absolutely hurt a poor horse's mouth and are typically reserved for troublesome (potentially dangerous) animals who may need to be curtailed quickly. I'm assuming Rockstar chose them for style more than characterization... but I do wince when I see those hard stops with the straight shanks, every time.

Horsetalk. We all know Arthur baby talks horses, and that his babble to his horse increases in affection with bonding level and varies a little depending on the horse's sex. But he also does something peculiar and frankly delightful with his vocal modulation on certain horse chatter lines. In those moments where he seems to go a little vibrato, warbling his voice as he talks ("waiaiaiaiaiaiaiat! come bahahahahack!" he calls after a fleeing mustang), Arthur is actually mimicking calming/positive horse sounds (usually a friendly nicker or a greeting whinny) in an attempt to communicate in horse language. While I think a TON of horsegirls have secretly nickered at our horses when no one else is around the stable, making horse noises at your horse is not a "traditional" training technique, and imo is something other gang members would definitely make fun of him for. It is also very adorable. I wanted to add that while horses are excellent at noise commands (like whistles, clucks, kisses, etc.), they usually aren't very good at identifying spoken word commands, including their own names. Therefore, the majority of the talking Arthur does to his horse is just free companionable chatter, much like we babble to our house pets. The command is in the cluck, the leg pressure, the yah, the rein slap; it's not the spoken, "Come on, girl, here we go!" That's just Arthur being a horsegirl.

Saddle checks. If you pay close attention, in cutscenes and in the map, Arthur will occasionally reach down and test various pieces of his saddle. This is particularly true with checking the cinches (those big straps that loop behind the front legs and under the belly), which good riders often do, as saddles can adjust during a ride. Straps that are too tight or too loose will cause a horse discomfort, since they change the way the saddle rests upon them and distributes the rider's weight. You can even watch the saddle shift when Arthur mounts and dismounts, reflecting the changed distribution in weight! This honestly floored me the first time I saw it. Rockstar really consulted people who know their stuff.

Bad Habits. IMO, Arthur's a little slouch-backed in the saddle. This is noticeably worse if he's hungry or sleepy, but even well-fed and rested, his shoulders drop and curve out his spine more than is ideal. This won't hurt his horse, but it will come back to bite him directly in the lower back as he ages, and I argue it's probably biting him in the ass a little now. (More on that below.) Arthur's "behind the horse" etiquette isn't particularly lifelike. In RDR2 (as in life), sometimes idling or benignly messing around behind a horse will cause them to randomly kick, and any equestrian knows not to hang out aimlessly in the kick zone. IRL, if you're about to walk close behind a horse, it's good etiquette to reach out and gently lay a hand on a horse's hip to let them know you're going to pass behind them before you step into the kick zone. I would have liked to see an animation for this, but I'd guess this would have been a real pain to animate without "locking" Arthur in place (as with the petting and brushing animations), so I can't really count this against him in good conscience. He also holds his reins in a full fist rather than between the appropriate fingers. This is a novice mistake, but I'm guessing this is an animation choice more than a characterization one, because I can't imagine getting those wobbly rein physics to rest perfectly between a model's wee little fingers. Which brings us to...

Reins. Arthur keeps a pretty tight (though not oppressive) grip on the reins when he has a horse in motion, facilitating quick communication from rider to horse and increased emotional response from the horse, and he tends to use both reins when he isn't holding something else. This increases control and often allows for clearer communication between horse and rider in comparison to the laxer "rein knot" one-handed Western style. More on that point: Arthur sometimes holds the reins in one hand. This is not lazy horsemanship, but rather a mainstay of the Western riding tradition; holding the reins in one hand allows for a rider to keep one hand free for whatever they might need... usually rope/weapons. Using two hands, one rein in each, does deliver much more refined control (especially with a nervous or inexperienced horse), which is why you often see Arthur switch between one- and two-handed riding. Rockstar also makes the clever choice to make reins “stretchy” so they move with the neck and simulate rider give and restraint, rather than having them just flop around at a static length. This makes reining feel a lot more dynamic and responsive, in my opinion.

Bareback vs. Saddle: To Rockstar's credit, riders' carriage when bareback is entirely different from the saddle carriage animations, and displays a lower center of gravity.

This note is a bummer, but it is, I feel, an important one to know. Arthur is WAY TOO BIG to ride a significant number of horses in the game. Horses are not bikes or cars. In real life, it's extremely important to consider a rider's weight and height and general carriage when matching them with a horse, especially for long-distance rides... and unfortunately, Arthur is prohibitively huge. If I saw a man Arthur's size astride that teeny little Morgan, boots tips damn near dragging, I'd give him a piece of my damn mind. That said, it's just a video game, so if you love that white Arabian or that sweet little Morgan, ride without shame; you are not hurting a pixel horse! But if you're into max realism or a horse an experienced rider like Arthur might conceivably choose for himself, go for something larger, leggier, and stronger. Though Rockstar fictionalized their breeds a little bit, I think one of their taller well-balanced styles like the Dutch warmblood, standardbred, Hungarian, Andalusian, or even one of those svelte Americanized Belgians suits Arthur much more comfortably. Online's Kladruber would also be an excellent choice for Arthur. (Ain't nobody saying SHIT to Arthur Morgan on a heavy breed like a Shire, though they aren't well suited for everyday long-distance all-terrain riding, and I feel sympathy pains about that leg spread just thinking about it. Speaking of...)

Real talk about Arthur's "swagger": Though I'm 100% sure it's a dominance thing for some crusty ol' cowboys, most equestrians don't saunter around Like That TM because they are listening to Rod Stewart croon If You Want My Body And You Think I'm Sexy at all times. That "swagger" is just... well... to be blunt, it's sort of what happens to your gait after you spend all day with your legs straddling a big animal moving on rough terrain. Hang out with some adults who have ridden horses daily since they were wee beans and they'll tell you allllll about what it can do to your posture. Contrary to cowboy jokes, it's not so much about being bowlegged (which is massively exaggerated as it pertains to horseback riding) as it is about lowering one's center of gravity to compensate for things like muscle strain, spinal compression, and lower back pain. Due to the high impact nature of riding, many career horsepeople develop chronic back problems and "swaggers," and for some it's eventually more comfortable to ride than to walk. Not saying you can't hc an Arthur who struts his stuff, of course! Just saying that, for those of you who might struggle to reconcile Arthur's blisteringly low self-esteem in his physical appearance with his "swagger," here's a horse world answer.

Knights Templar'ing it. This is another bummer for a ton of cute fanfic scenes, but riding two-to-a saddle is really not good for a horse. It's not just about raw weight, but about the distribution of that weight and where the pressure rests on a horse's back/organs. A bean like Little Jack sitting right in Arthur's lap isn't going to add too much stress to a horse big enough to carry a tanky dude like Arthur comfortably, but a whole second adult sitting behind a saddle is a very different story. Imagine the difference between carrying someone piggyback versus having someone stand on your spine! It's all about the position. Larger breeds can tolerate riding double for a while, but it should not be done for long distances, and it definitely should not be done if a rider expects to need heavy exertion from the horse. Adults riding double doesn't happen too often in RDR2 (usually just during an emergency), so this isn't a critique of Rockstar or Arthur; it's more so a helpful realism note for fanworks. An experienced horsegirl like Arthur is sure not to ride double casually. Pro-tip: If you want someone to teach your (non-bean-sized) OC how to ride a horse, consider having the teacher controlling the horse from the ground via a lead/lunge line while your OC sits in the saddle.

Oof, that smarts... When Arthur picks up hay bales with short sleeves on/bare hands, he makes a soundless "OOF OOOH EEEE OUCH" face. The first time I saw this, I absolutely lost it with glee. Anyone who has moved hay (or straw; they're different!) with bare arms knows how prickly and scratchy and itchy it is, and it's loving little touches like this that make RDR2's horses feel so darn real.

That's all I can think of for now! I hope this list was at least somewhat helpful, even if it's far from an all-encompassing resource on horsey stuff in RDR2. Happy riding, meatverse horsegirls & virtual horsegirls, and remember to always thank your horse :)

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock in Four Months Part 11

Part One Part 10 Part Twelve Link to Ao3

Alrighty guys I want you all to thank @stevethehairington for betaing this and making it fantastic, @henderdads for making the poll that made me finally finish writing this, and @steveshairychest for being a furry lmaooo (Sorry I had to)

Also I know you guys reallllly aren't going to want to hear this, but I wanted to put out one more chapter before I let you know that HTRAJ is going on a hiatus. Not a long one! I just have way too many WIPs going right now, and two of them are Valentines gifts (and good reads if I do say so myself!)

Step Eleven: Play Some Music

“Steve gets shotgun,” Eddie called as they exited the trailer, tossing Steve a smile that made his chest feel fuzzy as he jumped down the last two steps. 

“What the hell man?” Jeff grumbled, looking slightly put out, “We take turns,” 

Steve opened his mouth to say he didn’t mind and he would take sitting in the back, but Eddie pushed him towards the van with ease. 

“Steve’s never been inside of Hortensia, he deserves to see her at her absolute best,” He reasoned, giving Jeff a big megawatt smile and waiting to see what he would say. He still didn’t seem thrilled, but Jeff just rolled his eyes and climbed into the backseat. 

Steve would have made a comment on the fact that Eddie had named his beat up clunker ‘Hortensia’ of all things, but it was just so Eddie that all he could do was smile and shake his head. That was classic Eddie, always seeing the good, always finding something to make better. A trashy white van was Hortensia, an ex-jock was a potential friend. 

It was his superpower, almost as strong as El’s. 

“Your ride, my liege,” Eddie said, opening the passenger side theatrically. Steve rolled his eyes and climbed in, buckling his seatbelt as Eddie jumped into the drivers side seat and flourished his keys. 

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Eddie declared, turning the ignition. 

Nothing. 

Another attempt. The van gave a low grumble but did nothing. 

“Damn hunk of junk, piece of shit, mother-”

“Hortensia, huh?” Steve said with a raised brow, interrupting Eddie’s tirade of angry muttering. He threw Steve a slightly dirty look, staring at him directly in the eye as he tried the ignition again. 

Bingo. The van roared to life, headlights instantly taking the empty blackness around the trailer and filling it with trees. The entire group cheered as Eddie victoriously beeped the horn, and Steve opened his mouth to say some stupid comment that would probably make everyone laugh. 

Then the headlights flickered. 

In a single moment the ease, the happiness, it was just gone. Like a fire in dry brush, it had disappeared, and all that was left was a quick panicky feeling that there was something watching them, something waiting nearby. 

He needed his bat. 

“What the hell- Woah, what’re you doing?!” Eddie demanded as Steve shoved his way out of the car, walking over to his Beemer. He had already gotten his backpack out and was rifling through it by the time Eddie snuck up on him. 

“Steve?” Eddie asked softly. 

Eddie was out of the van. He was vulnerable. If something was sneaking up on them, then he would be the first one down.

Steve moved quickly, spinning the two of them so Eddie was up against his car, and Steve was out in front of him. That was better. He didn’t have a weapon, but he knew how to fight these things. At the very least, Eddie would have the time to run to the van if things went bad. 

“Do you see anything?” Steve asked, looking around them. 

The lights had only flickered once, just once, but once was enough. Once was a warning, and ignoring that would be stupid. 

That was Hopper’s number one rule. Don’t be Stupid. 

“What should I be seeing? A boogeyman?” Eddie teased, standing up straight and walking over to Steve, “You think I’m gonna see a were-”

“Eddie,” Steve cut him off with a severe look, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and pulling him behind him again, “Do you see anything?”

“No,” Eddie murmured after a moment. Steve spared a quick glance behind him, faltering when he saw just how uneasy Eddie was. 

“There’s…Steve there’s nothing out there,” 

Nothing out there. The lights were clear, they had been the entire time, and there was no growling, no sound of strange steps creeping up. Just the purr of a rusty engine, and the sound of Steve’s blood racing in his ears. 

Eddie was right. There was nothing out there. 

A rush of humiliation barreled over Steve, erasing everything else. He let out a slow shaking breath, running a hand over his face and hating the way his eyes were starting to burn. 

A few lights acting funny and he turned into this? Over lights? 

“Are you-”

“I’m fine,” Steve whispered, the lie strikingly obvious to both of them, “Just-”

Steve reached around Eddie and grabbed his backpack off of the ground, hefting it up over one shoulder and turning back to the van. 

“I have what I need. Let’s go,” Steve said, closing the door before Eddie could ask him again if he was okay. 

Flashlight, walkie-talkie, car keys, first aid kit, knife. 

Flashlight, walkie-talkie, car keys, first aid kid, knife. 

Flashlight-

What was he doing? 

Steve forced an exhale, pushing all of the air out of his lungs, letting the deafening chatter from the car around sink back in, and finally releasing the death grip he had on his bag. 

The backpack that had his flashlight, walkie-talkie, car keys, first aid kit, and knife. Everything he could carry inconspicuously in case of an emergency. His knife wasn’t ideal, but better than nothing. Steve would have loved to have Baby with him too, but she had to stay in the trunk of the Beemer. The last thing he needed was everyone to know how actually insane he was now, and carrying around a bat full of nails was a one way ticket to the loony bin.  

Maybe he should ask Nancy to teach him how to shoot a gun. A pistol was easily hidden, and-

Jesus. There really was something wrong with him. 

This was fun. Steve was supposed to be having fun. It was just a nice normal night with nice normal friends. The gates were closed, the kids were all together having a sleepover at the Wheeler’s, everything was just fine. 

So why was his stomach still twisted up in knots? Why was he obsessively looking out the window at the trees, just to make sure nothing was running alongside the van?

“What do you think, Steve?” Eddie asked, thrusting Steve back into the conversation happening all around him. The bumping bass from the radio was gone, and the rest of the group was now staring at him, waiting for an answer. 

Shit. 

Steve curled his hand around the strap of his backpack again, shrugging and giving Eddie a tight lipped smile, hoping that would be at least a somewhat adequate answer. Judging by Eddie’s furrowed brow and downturned mouth, it wasn’t. 

Flashlight. Walkie-Talkie. Car Keys. First Aid Kit. Knife. Flashlight. Walkie-Talkie. Car Keys. First Aid Kit. Knife. 

“He probably hasn’t listened to either of them yet,” Jeff cut in, tapping his chin. 

Oh. They were still talking about bands. Steve probably couldn’t have answered that question even if he had been listening instead of quietly freaking out. 

“You can tell us which was your favorite after the show,” Frank said, making eye contact with Steve from the rearview mirror and giving him an easygoing smile. Steve returned it, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease up ever so slightly. 

Frank was a cool guy. Understated, but nice. He always kind of hung around in the back, but that was fine. In a group like Hellfire with so many big personalities, having a steady person like Frank helped to balance everything out. 

“I still think he would like Black Sabbath best,” Jeff said, settling back in his seat. 

“Of course you think that,” Gareth replied with a roll of his eyes, pausing for a minute before crossing his arms and continuing in a begrudging tone, “Quiet Riot. Everyone can appreciate them. Even Steve.”

It wasn’t exactly an insult, so Steve decided to let go of any part of him that bristled at Gareth’s words. Gareth was a lot like Mike, it took him time to warm up. It was just…taking a bit longer than Steve had expected it to. 

Whatever. He liked a good challenge. 

“Trust me, we’ll play a song from the new Dio album and Steve’ll be a total convert,” Eddie said, shooting Steve a bright smile that warmed him from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. “We’ll have to get you a battle vest to match mine soon enough,” 

Without really thinking about it, Steve let go of his bag and reached up to play with the guitar pick hanging around his neck. Even just touching it was enough to ease away whatever nerves were still rolling around his body. 

It wasn’t like he was magically some different person, but wearing Eddie’s clothes and having his necklace was… it was almost like there was a shield. They were a buffer, a barrier between Steve and the fear that seemed to rule over everything he did nowadays. Here he wasn’t the babysitter or the protector. He was the new kid, someone who was still learning and allowed to slip up. If he didn’t know something, then it wasn’t the end of the world. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Eddie asked, staying quiet so the other three who were still debating wouldn’t hear him. 

“Yeah,” Steve replied immediately, squeezing his fingers around the chain and taking a slow deep breath, “better now,” 

“If you wanna talk, I’m always here,” Eddie whispered back, giving Steve one more soft glance before turning his eyes back to the road. Steve sighed, dropping his hands back to his lap and letting his head rest against the seatbelt, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to see the forest around them. 

The thing was, Steve knew he wanted to talk to Eddie. He wanted to tell him that Dustin had left at 4 o’clock today, and Steve had been late because he was nervous about coming tonight. He wanted to tell Eddie that he was worried about fitting in, worried about letting his guard down, worried about the endless ‘what-if's' that seemed to run around in his mind in an endless loop these days. Eddie would listen, and even if he didn’t understand, he would empathize. 

Steve wanted to, but he couldn’t. 

Because Eddie was understanding, but he was also so so nosey. He would poke and prod and try to learn the whole story, because he wouldn’t be able to help himself, and Steve couldn’t handle that. If that happened, Steve would have to pull back, put distance between them. Not only to protect himself and his people, but to protect Eddie too. 

Steve had seen what happened to people who got pulled into their world. 

Bob was what happened. 

And even the thought of something like that happening to Eddie made Steve’s heart race. He reached up to touch the guitar pick again just to ground himself in the moment. 

It was fine. Nothing was going to happen to Eddie. Nothing was going to happen to any of them. Steve wouldn’t let anything ever happen to any of them. 

“Alright freeloaders, we’re here!” Eddie crowed, and Steve opened his eyes just as they pulled into the parking lot of a dingy looking hovel. 

The place looked about two steps from being closed for a health code violation, and Steve was instantly reminded that his mom had made him promise to never get within a thousand feet of the Hideout. It was apparently a bar for ‘other’ kinds of people. Mechanics and factory workers and cashiers. Not Harringtons. 

But here he was, right outside, and the world hadn’t caved in. Imagine that. Steve laughed quietly to himself, getting out of the van and coming around to the back with the rest. 

“‘Sup douchebags!” A voice called from across the parking lot. 

Rocky and Janet were walking over, both decked out in their metal best. Rocky was wearing the same spiked vest he wore every day, but he had chosen a pair of jeans to go with it that was more chain than denim, a look that would have gotten him sent straight to detention if he so much as stepped onto the parking lot of the school wearing it. Janet was wearing her usual attire, but her hair was up in a messy bun complete with deep dark eyeliner and a skull patterned choker. 

“Hey asshole,” Gareth replied, slapping Rocky’s hand against his own and opening the van door, “Help us with set up?” 

As they began to coordinate getting all of the stuff out of the van, Janet skipped over to Frank to chat. 

“I thought you weren’t allowed to come out tonight,” Frank said, rubbing his arm and giving her a timid smile. 

“I wasn’t. As far as my parents know I’m asleep in bed right now,” She replied, giving Frank a mischievous little grin as she kissed him quickly on the cheek, turning around before she could see the way the boy immediately turned into a tomato. 

“Hi Steve. I like the new look. You should wear it to school when we go back. Start 1985 off with a bang,” Janet said in her normal slightly snarky tone. 

“Hi Janet,” Steve said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and ducking his head down to hide the stupid grin on his face as she came over to inspect him, pointing out various add-ons he could have made to get the ‘true full metal experience’. 

This was the thing he had been searching for. Blissful normalcy with dumb conversations and stupid lighthearted jabs. Something easy that wasn’t bogged down in reality. 

“Hup two, guys. We’re already late,” Eddie huffed, pulling on an amp that was far too big for him to hold up on his own. 

“And who’s fault is that?” Jeff said with a roll of his eyes, quickly stepping in to take the other side of the equipment and gently easing it out of the van. Steve grabbed a random box and hefted it up, walking towards the door with Janet hot on his heels, still examining his new outfit. 

“Is that Eddie’s necklace?” She blurted out the second she spotted the dark red swirls, her jaw dropping open comically wide as she stared at it with huge eyes. 

“Someone decided to play Heavy Metal Barbie with pretty boy right before we were supposed to leave,” Gareth grunted, accidentally smacking Rocky with one of his drums as he stepped out of the van.

“Okay! Let’s just get moving, please!” Eddie quickly shouted in an uncharacteristically high pitched voice, practically dragging Jeff as he hurried into the bar. 

If Steve wanted to let himself over examine things, then he would have dared to say that Eddie was blushing. Instead of assessing that particular thought, he grabbed the door and held it open for the rest. 

With all seven of them working, set up went quickly, and before too long there were only a few things left to get. 

“I’ll grab them so you can start tuning or whatever,” Steve offered. 

“I’ll go with you,” Rocky said, pulling Steve out of the bar.  

“You know, I can’t believe he let you wear his lucky pick,” Rocky said the second they were alone outside, pitching his voice low even though there was no one to overhear them. “He doesn’t even let anyone else touch it, let alone wear it. ” 

This was enough to stop Steve in his tracks, his eyes darting down to the little piece of plastic around his neck.

No one else was even allowed to touch it? 

The necklace was already sentimental enough when it was just Eddie’s favorite. Now it was something precious, a treasure that wasn’t meant for any other person. Steve had been joking about Eddie staking a claim on him before, but the guitar pick practically felt like a brand at this point. 

The startling thing was just how much Steve didn’t mind. 

It was the same as ‘Sweetheart’. This was another thing that guys weren’t supposed to do for other guys, another thing that Steve shouldn’t want. He should be taking it off right now, handing it back to Eddie and going home back to the life he belonged in. 

None of this was right. Steve shouldn’t be here at a bar meant for people who were supposedly below him, he shouldn’t be dressed up like a metalhead going to listen to thrashing loud music in the middle of the night, and he certainly shouldn’t be happy Eddie Munson was having him wear something he wouldn’t even let anyone else even touch. 

This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. This wasn’t who Steve was supposed to be. 

But was anything the way it was meant to be anymore? 

There were monsters from other dimensions and little girls who could move things with their minds. There were government cover ups, evil scientists, and dead people all over the place. 

No, nothing was how it was supposed to be anymore. At least this was a change that made Steve happy. He didn’t need to think about that too much, or try to figure out why. 

At least, he didn’t need to yet. 

“Well…maybe he just thought I could use some good luck tonight,” Steve murmured, reaching up and letting his fingers rest against the necklace for a moment before grabbing one last amp and walking back into the bar. He put it down gently on the floor of the ‘stage’ (It was a rickety wooden platform that was barely a feet off the ground, but Eddie had called it a stage), fully intending to turn right around and go back to the car to get his backpack. 

“That was the last of it, Sweetheart,” Eddie called from behind, making Steve stop short, “Rocky and Jan grabbed the best table in the house for you guys. It’s far enough that the drunks won’t hurl on you if they end up having a little bit too much. ” 

“Oh um,” Steve’s mind flitted around as he looked for any excuse he could use, “I…left my wallet in the van,” 

Steve crossed his fingers, praying that Eddie wouldn’t call out the very obvious wallet shaped lump in his right pants pocket. 

“You won’t need it,” Eddie said smoothly, hopping down and steering Steve gently towards the table with their friends, “The barkeep knows to keep my people fed and watered. Just let him know you’re here with me, or better yet, make Rocky do all the heavy lifting. He is a freshman after all, he has to take his licks.” 

That would be great if Steve was actually worried about his wallet. He wasn’t. He needed his flashlight, walkie-talkie, car keys, first aid kit, and knife. He needed to be prepared in case things went wrong. 

He needed those things, but he couldn’t explain to Eddie why, and he couldn’t walk out right now without looking like he was trying to ditch. Steve’s breathing started to kick up, and he could feel his heart leaping in his chest. 

They weren’t safe right now. Anything could happen, and he wasn’t prepared. Anything could go wrong, and- 

“Relax,” Eddie said slowly as they reached the table, pulling out a stool and nudging Steve towards it, “No one’s gonna bite,” 

“I will,” Rocky immediately replied, baring his teeth just for show. 

“Okay well don’t sit too close to him, and you’ll be just fine,” Eddie laughed, the other two Hellfire members snickering alongside him. This was where Steve should laugh with them too, but his throat was closing up. 

He was in a place he didn’t know, with a group who he didn’t really know, without anything to defend himself or keep in touch with his people. 

This wasn’t safe. Steve wasn’t safe right now. 

A soft touch on his arm startled him and he jumped back. Or he would have, if Eddie hadn’t held on and kept him from moving and crashing into the table. Steve stiffened up, looking up at Eddie knowing that he wasn’t doing a damn thing to hide how freaked out he had become. 

He couldn’t care about that. He couldn't care about anything except how dangerous everything had suddenly become. 

“Seriously. Everything’s okay. I promise,” Eddie whispered, leaning in so their heads were close together. Steve closed his eyes, taking a deep breath the way Joyce had shown him. In for four, hold for four, out for four. 

Usually it didn’t do anything for him, breathing slowly normally only made him even more aware of how little air there was in the room, but the breathing combined with Eddie’s hand still on his arm was enough to get Steve centered again. 

Everything was okay. The kids were safe, Nancy and Jonathan were safe, Hopper and Joyce were safe. 

Steve was safe. 

He was out with friends doing something fun, and there was nothing wrong with that. This was normal. This was what he was working towards. All he wanted was something easy, and this was easy. He didn’t have to make things complicated by being afraid. 

And, if anything went wrong, he could just run outside and get his things. 

“Thanks,” Steve whispered.

“Anytime,” Eddie whispered back, his big dark eyes locked on Steve’s. Once again Steve was completely aware of the guitar pick around his neck, and the fact that no one else was even allowed to touch it. 

“Eddie! Seriously! Tick fucking tock!” Frank shouted from the ‘stage’. Eddie growled quietly, muttering to himself about evil bandmates who had no sense of boundaries. Steve snorted, chuckling softly until Eddie stopped grumbling.  

“Have a good show,” Steve said, pulling away from Eddie and hopping up onto the stool. 

“Prepare to have your world rocked,” Eddie said, trying to act cool as he walked backwards, but tripping on the world’s tiniest step and falling flat on his ass on the stage. 

Steve made a valiant attempt to not laugh along with the rest of the bar, but he quickly failed, tossing his head back and laughing loudly, putting a hand on his chest and feeling the hard plastic against his fingertips. Eddie paused, giving Steve an indescribable look before straightening up and brushing away the invisible dirt from his vest. 

“And with that incredibly suave move, I’d like to formally introduce our band to the dozen or so drunks that are here tonight,” Eddie said into the mic, spreading his arms out wide like he would at Hellfire. The meager crowd yelled back and raised their drinks, making Eddie put on an absolutely feral grin

“Ladies and gentleworms, we are Corroded Coffin,” 

Much like Dungeons and Dragons, Steve hadn’t really expected that he would enjoy the show. He liked Eddie and he enjoyed the rest of the group, so he figured he would come and watch and be a good sport. 

And, much like Dungeons and Dragons, he was completely wrong. 

It wasn’t his favorite genre of music by any means, but the energy in the air was absolutely enthralling. From the first note there was just this push, this indescribable palpable movement in the air that was exhilarating while also being settling. It was like they were collectively experiencing something special, and all having a grand old time while doing it. 

It didn’t hurt that he was also about four whiskey sours in.

He had only planned to drink one, maybe two, but every time his glass was empty another magically appeared by his arm, courtesy of Rocky and Janet. He had tried to turn them down a few times, but they could be awfully persuasive when they wanted to be, and Steve couldn’t help hoping that the alcohol might clear up the last bit of the panic that was still rolling around in his head.

So with a warm fire in his belly and a brain that was finally for once quieting down, he happily listened as Janet and Rocky screamed the lyrics right alongside Eddie and the rest. He couldn’t really understand, per say, but the energy was all that mattered. 

And then, halfway into their set, everything fell apart. 

“Alright, everyone,” Eddie said as they caught their breath from an original that left everyone slapping their tables and stomping their feet, “It’s time to settle a bet.”

He turned to face Steve dead on, a gleam in his eyes that had nothing to do with the low light of the bar. 

“We have, let’s call him a…metal virgin, with us tonight,” Eddie drawled, letting the crowd hoot and holler as they pleased. There was less than two dozen people in the bar with them, and there was no way any of them besides Hellfire knew that Eddie was talking about Steve, but he still felt like every eye in the room had just turned to him. 

“Earlier tonight the band and I were trying to figure out who would make him a convert. Black Sabbath, Quiet Riot, Metallica. I said Dio, because I think this song is right up his alley. So, this one’s for you,” 

Steve’s heart began to race in a completely brand new way as Eddie began shredding down on his guitar, joined by Gareth with an impressively quick beat on the drums. 

The song was good. It was fast-paced, lively, and Steve could actually follow along with the lyrics unlike some of the more intense songs from before. Eddie had hit it exactly. The song was just another example of Eddie knowing him even more than Steve expected him to. 

It was so good in fact, that Steve almost didn’t notice the lights behind the bar begin to flicker. 

Almost. 

Steve’s hands began to shake as his eyes darted around, looking at all of the walls. The other lights were also flickering, but the walls were still straight and narrow. No bending. No monsters. 

Not yet. 

Or not here. 

Steve’s heart dropped as reality slapped him square across the face. If the lights were flickering, but there was no sign of any monsters, then they were close, but not here. They could be anywhere, going after anyone. 

Going after one of his people. 

Steve stumbled off the stool, catching Janet and Rocky’s attention as he nearly toppled to the ground. 

“Steve! Are you okay?!” Janet yelled above the noise. 

No, he wasn’t okay. He was a stupid fool in fact. A complete idiot who had honestly let himself believe that the danger was gone when he knew it wasn’t. 

“I- I need to-” Steve couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t make his breath even enough to find the words for what he needed. 

He needed his bat. He needed his backpack. He needed to get in touch with Hopper. He needed to get out of here. 

He needed to find his kids. 

And then, just as Eddie hit one last screeching solo note on his guitar, everything went dark. 

Tag List: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name @minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Here is some light pro-Marmont propaganda:

He was a friend of Napoleon's since before he was a general and he accompanied him to Italy,Egypt and the 18th of Brumier

He was successful at Toulon, Matengo and Wagram

During his governing of the Iliriyan provinces he was a HUGE advocate for making the "iliriyan language " (a mix of croatian,slovenian and other Balkan language s) the offical language. He made it so the iliriyan language was offical and used in schools and everyday life but french was only used in legal areas. Just to note this was unheard of in croatian history till this point, the croatian language* was only ever removed and replaced by german or italian by the ruling country/kingdom. Also he was doing this 30 or so years before the croatian national awaking (it's really complicated to explain so I will have to simplify....in the mid 19th century a bunch od croatian writers and poets start "making" the modern croatian language by publishing grammar books, dictionaries,song and so on. Pretty much they were some of the first people to openly advocate for a croatia that embraced it's cultural heritage and language. They called themselves the "Ilirians".) Marmont was doing that before it was cool so I think that earns him some sexyman points.

Dalamtia was a literal s*** hole that was underutilized and forgotten by pretty much everyone (austrians,turks and venitaians). It was pretty much just villages and fields of mud. When the French arrived they built the first roads there (named : the Josephine, the Caroline and the Louisa) under the command of Marmont. These same roads are so good that they are some of the main highways in croatia. But the upgrades didn't stop there, Marmont saw potential and started building theaters and schools in bigger cities. Thus making the worth of the cities bigger. He made such a positive change in Dalmatia,that when the Austrians took back the land after 1813 Francis II/I said:" it's a shame that Marmont didn't stay here for another four or so years. He would've done so much good"

Croatian love this guy SO DAMN MUCH it's actually kinda stupid. In the coastal city of Split (one of the biggest cities in croatia) the biggest tourist destination and most culturally significant street in the whole city is named after him (Marmontova ulica/ Marmonts street). And all over the coastal part of the country you can find monuments and statues dedicated to him (sadly there aren't any OF him)

He wrote a bunch of memoirs about his time in the provinces....and ngl he has a goofy writing style. He just start jumping from topic to topic (thought that was kinda funny)

Accounts of people who saw him during the battle of Paris say that he looked "very dashing and brave sitting straight on his horse and wearing his riding breaches and boots as if he were a young general again".... I mean if his contemporaries thought he was hot (maybe they couldnt see the unibrow?)....that check of one of the sexyman criteria, right?

Thank you for reading this long ass post (I'm sorry I didn't mean to make it so long)

Ps. Sorry for bad grammar or spelling, English ist my first language

*Croatian language- all southeastern European languages where clumped together for most of history, I used the words "Croatian language" to simplify

I'm mesmerized by your url. No better url to interact with this blog.

[mooodyblue]

Would love some protective angry cg!Elvis!!! ❤️❤️❤️

i looved writing this one!!! i don't know why i always have to include jerry, i think i have a soft spot for him now don't worry u will all have more jerry content soon ty for the request 💓

trouble

wc: 1k

warnings: cursing, gn!reader, 70s!elvis

masterlist

elvis had always been protective of you, especially with all the girls around him constantly, but when you opened up to him about you regressing, he became slightly more protective over you. he always made sure he had an eye on you. if he wasn't able to keep an eye on you, he'd have jerry watch over you.

jerry was usually in charge of watching after you during shows. elvis was always afraid you'd slip while he wasn't there and jerry was the only one who knew what to do in those situations. he'd also bring you straight to the car right after a show as elvis shortly followed.

you'd slipped into your headspace right before it ended after dealing with a few of his fans having a word with you, thankfully jerry was there to push them away before things got worse. you sat in the car, waiting for elvis to come in as fans anxiously waited to get a peak at him as he got in. you kept eyeing the brown, teddy bear jerry had hidden away at his feet, unable to take it until they were on the road. "jer-"

"he'll be here soon, hon. hold on."

you sighed, messing with the hem of your dress instead. after a few more minutes, a breathless elvis jumped in along with a few more members of his entourage, switching seats with jerry as they all got in the seats in front of you as they caught their breath. elvis gave you a warm smile, pressing his lips against your cheek. "missed ya."

you tugged your arm under his, gripping and holding onto it as you rested your head on his shoulder. elvis put his glasses on and looked down at you, "feelin' little, baby?"

"mhm." you nuzzled into him as jerry handed you the bear, tucking it in your lap.

"thanks for watchin' 'em jerry, they been like this long?" he wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you toyed with one of the many gems on his suit.

"not long at all, just right before we got in." he nodded.

"'m tired, daddy." you muttered.

"i know, doll. we'll be at the hotel soon." he said in your ear.

elvis had told everyone about your regression and what to do and how to act around you if you had dropped, most were understanding and some were a tad bit weirded out. but they knew better than to speak of you in that way. red turned around, eyeing you. "why do they get like that?"

elvis raised a brow, "like what?"

"y'know, like a baby 'n all that."

you frowned, moving from elvis to look down at your lap.

"i already explained it to you, didn't i?" he questioned. you could tell in elvis's tone that he was getting annoyed. part of you began to feel slightly bad for suddenly getting into your headspace.

"but it doesn't make sense to me. aren't they a full grown adult? they shouldn't be actin' like that! they've got a teddy bear for christ's sake!" he pointed at the bear that was in your lap. you held it tighter, resisting the urge to cover its ears becuase really, what did the bear have to do with this?

he then reached over to grab at it, most likely to tease you with it. elvis grabbed ahold of his wrist before he could make contact with it, gripping on it tightly. "lamar, pull the car over." he said through his teeth. "now."

lamar wasn't one to argue and pulled right over, everyone turning to look at the commotion in the back. elvis still had a tight grip around his friends wrist, glaring at him angrily, a look you'd never seen before in your life. "elvis-" you panicked.

he ignored the call of his name, knowing you must have been trying to force yourself out of your comforting headspace. "you do not, and i mean, do not touch my baby nor do you touch their bear." he let go of his wrist, waving a finger in his face.

"i've 'bout had it with some of y'all judgin' them behind their back, i know damn well that's what you do when i'm not around." you gave a quick glance to jerry who was sitting on the other side of you, who only gave you a sad smile and a gentle pat on the knee. you liked jerry, he was always kind to you.

"they're not even hurtin' anyone! they're bein' themselves, making themselves more comfortable after a stressful situation! and who are y'all to judge? l-like y'all don't have your own lil' quirks and such."

the whole car was still silent. you sunk farther into the seat, as if trying to hide from the situation.

"if i ever hear any of ya speak ill of my baby or make fun of 'em in anyway, your ass is gettin' kicked to the curb. and i mean it." his voice heavy with anger. "now all of you are gonna keep your mouths shut, face the front and don't even think about sayin' some shit to 'em. i will kick someone's ass if i have to. now lamar, drive." he finished his rant, sitting back again and letting out a huff.

"'m sorry." you mumbled.

"oh baby, don't apologize. i'm sorry for cursin' 'round ya. don't be saying those words either, you're too little for 'em." he pulled you close and adjusted the bear in your lap. "think we should get you another friend soon, what do you think?" he asked, changing the conversation.

your eyes lit up, your brain already creating names for your next plushie friend. "oh daddy, really?"

"don't they have enough?" jerry joked.

elvis tsk'd at jerry, shaking his head. "can never have enough, c'mon jer, y'know this already."

"yeah, jerry!" you added, sticking your tongue at him. "wait-are you gonna fire jerry now?"

elvis thought for a minute, "i reckon we give him one more chance."

"deal!"

[clawsextended]

@lunawish asked : " I can't believe I did that! all because what that aasimar and you said ... I —" shadowheart's breath catches, her gaze watery. there's a quiver on her lips. she can still feel the radiating heat, the pulsing, agonizing pain coursing through her wound. she can still feel the shadowfell all over her. " i could've become her chosen — her dark justiciar but now i'm... nothing." a bitter sneer is notable, there is no effort to conceal it. " I suppose you're just happy to never hear about lady shar again, aren't you?"

you catch yourself, you catch yourself, you catch yourself — in the glint of lae’zel’s blade you split into fragments, in the glimmer of aylin’s gilded veins you see yourself bleed, in the dim tone of her armor you recognize the bruises darkly embedded in your eyes, dark circles overwhelmed by sleepless nights. you, you, you, and the sounds that don’t stop. arabella screams in your sleep. you haven’t cried since then. you don’t think you can anymore — you think that’s over, and you’ve been scooped out from inside you.

“yes. she’s boring and i don’t want to talk about her anymore.”

you’re blunt as the ironside of a hammer straight to a cheek, careless in its violence. you don’t care because you can’t care — the realm beyond your reach is logic, is understanding, your empathy so bottomed out you simply cannot feel at all. you look at her as calmly as ever you have and you would hate you, she should hate you — you’d be fucking okay with it. worthless monster, terrible creature, twisted, gnarled, couldn’t become anything more than this.

a flick clicks the points of your claws together, gauntlet impatiently shifting at your side. your whole body is buzzing. you don’t know when you’ll be able to sleep again. but you also don’t know if you will.

“you did the right thing for you. not for shar. not for anyone besides yourself. don’t cut off your nose to spite your face — you’re better off this way. the person you need to rely on is yourself. shar be fucking damned. hurt, but don’t be ignorant of the fact that you’re better than being someone else’s tool. —

— and no. there is no road where it’s a better way to be. it’s never better. it’s only easier.”

you shrug your shoulders and feel the world shift when you do. your blink is long, hooded, slow.

“you’re not nothing. you’re way more than you ever were before. don’t squander that.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Rough and Rowdy Ways

Day #22 - AU | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Van Tour, Known Destroyers of Hotels, Motel Desk Clerk Steve Harrington, Meet Cute

One more dingy room, one more motel that's just a little more rundown than the last. It's been a long few years on the road, each one getting harder and harder. They have upswings, and downswings, and right now, they're definitely down. Playing smaller venues in the middle of fucking nowhere, more often than not. 

They aren't famous, more infamous than anything, because there's been a few incidents over the years that have put them in the papers for less than flattering reasons.

Damages, lawsuits. 

Rough and rowdy.

Assholes.

That's the name they've made for themselves. Gareth is still on probation from the last hotel trashing, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back, making all the major chains put the kibosh on them staying anywhere decent for the near future.

Most of them have their pictures hanging up, like they're outlaws. 

Eddie sees an old, falling apart neon sign with an arrow promising a motel. He's not sure it'll still be there. It's a toss-up, for sure, as shitty as that sign looks. 

But when they see the gravel turn-off, there is a solitary car sitting in the parking lot. Something that looks too nice, too expensive, for a place like this. 

But, they'll have to try their luck and see if they can slide under the radar, pay cash, give fake names, and go unnoticed. Move on down the road tomorrow. 

There's a guy sitting behind the desk, and he looks out of place in this shitty, unkempt place. He's very kempt. The most kempt person Eddie's seen in days.

Gareth immediately rings the bell, and Eddie wants to throttle him. That's never a good way to make a first impression. And they are the ones needing something here. 

"One room, please," Gareth says. 

The guy looks them up and down, and then shrugs. Pulling two sets of keys off a peg behind the desk. 

He has pretty eyes. Very pretty eyes, pretty everything, really.

"Twenty dollars. Room four," he offers, like he doesn't give a shit if they burn the place down. Maybe he doesn't care. "Name?"

"Edward Jones," Gareth says, mashing their names together.

"Sure you are," the guy says, and they both look at each other, "just sign here."

"What's that mean?" Gareth asks.

"Edward D. Jones? The financial advisors?"

It's not ringing a bell. They carry their money in a duffle bag. They definitely don't have any advisors.

"Coincidence," Gareth says, and Eddie thinks it might actually be, because he's not sure Gareth would know that either. 

"Checkout is at noon," he says, and then picks back up the book he was reading.

Transaction over.

Eddie paces the room, and the rest of them are getting annoyed. Goodie has already kicked him twice as he's walked by, and Gareth is sassing him.

Just. That guy. Steve, his name tag said, but that might have been as fake as Edward Jones.

"I'm gonna go get ice," Eddie declares, and the rest of them all seem to sigh in relief that he and his nervous energy are leaving the room.

Eddie carries the cheap plastic ice bucket up to the counter, "Steve?"

Steve looks up, so maybe that is his real name.

"Where's the ice machine?"

"It's broken," Steve answers.

"Oh. Damn," Eddie says, leaning up on the counter, trying to encroach on his personal space, just a little. Steve doesn't back up, not an inch, which is impressive. This usually works to make people uncomfortable. "I really need some ice. It's so hot."

Steve is looking at him, straight in the eyes, "Is that so?"

Eddie smiles, and isn't sure what he expects might happen, but he'll shoot his shot. There's no harm in it, he'll never see this guy again, come tomorrow.

"I have an ice machine in the back, if you want me to get you some. It's not really for the guests."

"Well, I appreciate that. I won't tell any of the other guests," Eddie says, a little sarcastic, because he's pretty sure nobody else is here.

Steve rolls his eyes, and grabs the brown bucket, pulling it across the counter and disappears through the open door behind him. 

Eddie follows.

He's pretty sure he's not supposed to, but Steve didn't tell him to wait at the counter.

Steve lifts the lid and grabs the metal scoop, filling the bucket. When he turns, he catches sight of Eddie and the bucket goes flying, ice spilling all over the floor.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry!" Eddie says, holding his hands up, just realizing that he may look threatening. He forgets that sometimes. "I'm not, I won't. Fuck. I'm sorry."

And then Steve laughs, a nervous giggle that makes Eddie smile, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn't thinking. I'm a musician. Eddie."

"Jones?" 

Eddie laughs, "Munson. That's my best friend, Gareth Jones. A coincidence, I think."

And Steve smiles, just a little, "Okay, just. This place brings in the freaks and weirdos," Steve says.

And Eddie points at himself, eyebrows raised.

"Little bit," Steve teases, and Eddie grins.

"Let me help you pick up the ice," Eddie offers, getting down on his hands and knees, swiping it all towards himself. Then Steve is standing over him with a broom.

"This might be more efficient," Steve says, sarcastically and Eddie laughs as Steve sweeps up the mess.

Eddie's palms are black from the floor. And somehow it's not the dirtiest place they've ever stayed.

"Is there a sink?" Eddie asks, showing Steve his palms, and Steve nods towards the little bathroom off the breakroom.

There are personal items all over the sink, and a small, corner shower. Does Steve live here? Eddie suspects someone does, if it isn't him.

Steve is leaning in the open doorway, watching him, but in a curious way, not in a suspicious way, Eddie thinks. Which is good. Great.

"Do you live here?" Eddie asks.

"Unfortunately," Steve says, smirking.

"Wanna run away and be a roadie?"

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[aejiajia]

> You have 1 unread message

> [Are you a tower? Because eiffel for you.]

< […]

< [No..]

< [You're horrible. Why am i with you.]

> [I seem to recall you REALLY liked a different pickupline ;))))]

< [Never bring that up again.]

> [I want you to focus on the first three words.]

< [You're straight up copying these from the internet aren't you?]

> [I mean… is it working?]

< [I'm literally so angry to say that yes it is working.]

Sujin giggles, rolling her eyes. A light blush covering her cheeks. Which was ridiculous- She was not flustered by dumb pick up lines from the internet.

< [You're ridiculous]

> [Only for you baby ♡]

She smiled a little bashfully. This was far from the first time she was called a pet name– this was a 2 year old relationship for god's sake. But still it managed to darken her flushed cheeks that tiny bit more.

< [I'm still filminggg, i'm sorry babes, duty calls </3]

> [Noooo]

< [Love you tho♡♡]

> [Love you too!]

Sujin turned off her phone at the exact right time– The director calling for her as she put down the device.

She groaned, a soft smile still present on her lips as she rubbed exhaustion from her eyes. 

Being an idol was exhausting, but it at least brought her to the love of her life. So that was a plus.

…

Sujin jumped up from her seat at a notification, taking a second to neatly put away her make-up wipes and look slightly presentable. (Because mascara and eyeliner smudges aren't presentable, even if it makes her undeniably sexy.)

> [Dating rumors are so stupid.]

That was definitely something she could agree on. Subject to her partner being in one too many dating scandals while dating her was definitely not a pleasant expierence. And neither was being subject to her very own dating scandals.

< [You're telling me. What'd you find?]

> [There's like 500 articles about my dating life right now. And just found one of you bringing up that stupid interview again.]

< [Jeez.. people will never let that go huh?]

> [I would love it if others just didn't perceive us. We're for each other's eyes only.]

< [Did you bring up dating rumors to flirt with me?]

> [Not originally.]

She barked out a laugh. 

< [You're so horrible.]

> [I would like to say i'm down bad.]

< [That's worse, babe.]

> [Oh. Damn.]

It was true though. Dating rumors were the worst. Really made Sujin's desire to be able to speak about her relationship without her entire career being ruined much bigger then normal.

Just so she wouldn't have to sit through that jealousy that really had no reason to be there.

She'd had quite enough of that jealousy. 

> [Send make-up smudge pics by the way.]

< [I'll see you tonight.]

> [Hey-]

Sujin rolled her eyes and turned off her phone, reckoning the other did the same if the silence was anything to go by. 

…

> [Will you be home soon?] 

< [Trying my best for it to be soon at least.]

> [Are you finished yet?? ;((((]

< [For today!! Overall- no.] 

> [Damn.. hate this job]

< [You’re telling me.] 

< [If you’re like this though, better be ready to cuddle me.]

> [Is that a threat?]

< [Yes.] 

Sujin couldn't drive home- fuck her. She didn't have a driver's license. Could never quite remember all of the signs and shit. In the end she decided it would be safer if she stayed off the road; for her and for others. 

It, funnily enough, was something Chaeyoung shared in.

Not really something to sob over and tell stories about, but the two always found their ways with making anything something to bond over.

It came through with her and Rosé offering to drive whenever the members wanted to do something together. Which would give them an in unison 'NO!' as response. 

< [Rides here. I love you! <3]

> [I love you too!!]