#I guess that’s what I’ll be calling it for now

[strang3lov3]

Seeing Red

“Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

Joel’s sorry that your period sucks, but he's reached the end of his rope with your attitude. (6k)

Tags - 18+ smut, brat taming, blow jobs, face fucking, rough period sex, fingering, mating press, overstimulation and multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare in the form of a shared bubble bath, all things periods and period symptoms so headaches, breast pain, cramps, irritability that reader takes out on Joel. You will feel so bad for being such a cunt to this man but he gets to fill two of your holes with his cum so it all kind of evens out. takes place in jackson Fic help - @beefrobeefcal and @joelsdagger for all of their love and support and eyeballs, @noxturnalpascal and @endlessthxxghts thank you both for being my compass and giving me direction and helping to make this fic perfect. I love you <3 A/N - if you're on your period, i'm sending you a hug <3 if you're not i'm hugging you too

I was reminded of my friend @covetyou's fic "Sleepless" which is a lovely piece of classic literature, just like the rest of her works, and I'd like to credit her for inspo. Thank you Lo 🤎🩷💚

You should have guessed there’d be a bloodstain in your underwear, but despite the headaches, your sore breasts, and your cramping abdomen, you’re surprised when you’re met with rusty red in your panties. Fucking great, you whisper, dripping with sarcasm, this is not what you needed today. You had so many things you wanted to get done and now you were going to be spending the whole day miserable and in pain.

“Joel,” you loudly call out. You wait a beat, nothing. “JOEL,” you yell louder. 

You hear the faint sound of his recliner, the popping of his knees and the creaking of the stairs as he walks up them. His two feet are visible through the space between the floor and the bathroom door and then he knocks, “Whatcha need, darlin’?”

“New underwear,” you answer. “And a pad. Also in the underwear drawer.” 

Joel walks away and returns with what you’ve asked for and slides both items under the door. You change your panties and secure the pad made of old rags and t-shirts with the clothespin attached to it. “You got it?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“Guessin’ you just started your cycle, then.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Can I get you anything?”

“Nope,” you answer. “I think I’m just gonna go to bed.” 

“Alright. I’ll join you, then.” 

 You wash your hands and rinse the bloodstain out of your panties with annoyance in the sink, wringing them out before tossing them in the dirty laundry hamper in the bathroom. When you unlock the door and leave the bathroom, Joel’s already asleep in your shared bed. He sleeps curled on his side and yet he still fucking snores - between that and the pain you’re in, you know it won’t be a restful night of sleep. You look at Joel, sleeping peacefully like a baby, and yet you wanna beat the living fucking crap out of him. You curl your body around his, stealing his body heat to soothe your cramps. 

Joel wakes up early the next morning and greets you with a kiss pressed to the side of your head. “Fuck off,” you mumble, your voice is still thick with sleep but he knows you mean it so he lets you sleep in a bit while he cleans the bathroom for you. He works as quietly as he can, scrubbing it and mopping it from top to bottom. He empties the trash can and the laundry hamper, he makes sure there’s a fresh bar of soap and a new washrag for you. Joel’s just finishing up and wiping dust from the mirror when you find him in the bathroom. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he says as he kisses the top of your head. “How do you feel?” 

“Shitty.” You grab at the mirror and Joel’s skin crawls as you touch the glass with your thumb, the smudges left behind from your fingertips clear as day on the freshly cleaned glass. He’ll just touch it up later. You pull out your toothbrush and frown, your nose scrunched in disgust. “It smells like bleach in here,” you complain.

“Well, yeah,” Joel chuckles. “I just cleaned it for ya. ‘Course it smells like bleach.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you mumble. “The bleach you used makes my head hurt worse.”

“Oh,” Joel scratches the back of his head and frowns. “M’sorry, then. Well, we can let it air out for a while, we’ll leave the fan on. Shouldn’t smell for more than a day or so.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

If looks could fuckin’ kill, Joel thinks. You’re glaring at him. He takes that as his cue to leave. You shrink away from him as he gently brushes your arm when he walks past, then shut the door loudly behind him. Ouch. Joel knows not to take it personally, though. You’re crampy, but you’re also probably hungry. He’ll make you breakfast, something with protein because he knows you need it. 

He cleans the kitchen first. He washes the dirty dishes you must’ve forgotten about last night and wipes crumbs from the table. As you come downstairs dressed in sweats and a shirt you stole from Joel, he’s finishing up making your breakfast. “Sit down, I made your favorite.” 

You sit down at the table with your head in your hands. Joel puts a plate with two slices of perfectly golden brown toast and two over-easy eggs in front of you, then a fork and a knife on either side. He fills a glass with water for you as well. He walks away to clean up the stove, then turns around to check on you. Your face is contorted in disgust and you’re not eating. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want this,” you grouse.

“But s’your favorite. You love your eggs over easy,” Joel says. “And the toast, that’s fresh bread and butter. Eat up.” 

“Yeah, but I wanted scrambled.” 

Joel stares at you for a moment, dumbfounded. You usually hate scrambled eggs, and he knows this. But you’re not smirking or holding back laughter like you’re fucking with him. So maybe your tastes have changed, who knows. “Okay. Would you like me to make you scrambled eggs instead, then?”

“Yes,” you mumble in a small voice. 

“I didn’t hear ya, sweetheart. Speak up, please.” 

“I said yes,” you snap. 

Your clipped tone cuts like a knife. Joel bites his inner cheek as he takes your plate from you. He quickly scarfs down the perfectly cooked eggs and toast as he makes you a new plate of breakfast, this time with scrambled eggs. He places it in front of you with a little less care than before and waits for you to take a bite. “Better?”

“Just okay.” 

‘Just okay’. Of course you think it’s ‘just okay’, they’re scrambled fucking eggs - which you don’t like. You’re just being - 

Joel needs to cool off. Hopefully once you’ve eaten you’re a little less irritable. “I’m gonna head out an’ do some errands. Be back shortly,” He’s met with no answer from you, which he expected. 

-

He comes back an hour or so later with a few things from the market he’s been needing along with a couple of VHS tapes that he rented from the library. After fetching your pad and underwear for you, Joel spent the night tinkering with the unpredictable VHS player so that it would play movies for you as you rested on the couch. “So,” Joel says, “I picked out some movies for ya.” He lays four tapes down on the coffee table in front of the couch where you lay. “When Harry Met Sally, that’s a good one,” he begins, “Next is How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days, then Blade Runner, and I picked out My Cousin Vinny,” Joel says. He thinks you’re gonna pick out Blade Runner because it stars Harrison Ford, who he knows you have a thing for. “My Cousin Vinny is pretty good, I don’t think we’ve seen that one yet f’ya wanna give that a try.”

“Mmm, no.” 

Shot down. “Okay. How ‘bout Blade Runner, then. S’got Indiana Jones in -”

“No. I don’t care,” you interrupt, which hurts Joel’s feelings a little. A lot, actually. “I wanna watch this one,” you point to How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days. “He’s cute.” 

Of course you picked the Matthew McConaughey movie. God, Joel fucking hated him. He always seemed so skeezy, if there’s anyone who should’ve bit it on Outbreak Day, it should’ve been Matthew McConaughey. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. Do you think he’s dreamy too?”

“Fuck off, Joel.” 

So teasing’s off the table too, he’ll add that to the list of things that have pissed you off today. Joel turns on the TV and puts the tape in the VHS player before he sits back down next to you. At first you rest on his shoulder, then you spread out and lay your head on his lap. It’s not long before you fall asleep on Joel, leaving him to watch this dumb fucking movie all by himself because god forbid he move you and disrupt your nap. He knows better than to do that. 

-

“So fuckin’ stupid,” Joel whispers to himself as the movie plays, though he did find himself enjoying the part where the Kate Hudson sings “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon. He always did like that song. 

“Mmmm,” you groan, shifting onto your back. Joel’s hand is stroking your hair as you look up at him, but you push it away. “You’re too close to me,” you grumble. 

“What’re you talkin’ about?” 

“You’re crowding me. I feel smothered.” 

Joel scoffs. “Oh, you feel smothered? You’re the one who laid on me.” Once again, your glare is all that you need to say. “Alright then, I’ll move.” Joel concedes. He lifts your head gently and scoots down to the opposite end of the couch. And then he hears you huff. “What?”

“Well, now I don’t have a pillow.” 

Joel sighs as he gets up to grab a throw pillow from the opposite couch. 

“The other one.” 

You’re referring to the other throw pillow that’s absolutely indistinguishable from the one currently in Joel’s hand, but he gets it for you anyway. “Lift your head,” he says softly, putting the pillow under you. He sits back down in the spot you made him move to as you both watch the movie play, but your soft groans interrupt. You’re no doubt in pain from all the cramps right now. “I’ve got somethin’ like a heating pad,” Joel says, looking at you. “S’a big sock filled with rice, I heat it up and use it for neck and back pain. Would that help with them cramps?” You nod without making any effort to meet Joel’s eyes, which he finds a little rude. But still, you’re hurting. He’ll give you grace. 

So, once again, Joel gets up for you. He goes upstairs to get his rice sock from his nightstand, then comes back downstairs and heats it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. He pokes the sock to make sure it’s plenty warm for you and then gives it to you to take. “Here,” he says, “Hold it on your tummy.”

“JESUS,” you yell at him. 

“What?”

“It’s too fucking hot, Joel, why would you make it so hot?” 

 “Just give it a second, sweetheart, you’ll get used to it.” 

“No. It was burning me.” 

“Okay, then let me have it and we’ll let it cool off a minute. Christ almighty.” Joel takes the sock back from you, and he knows his hands are pretty calloused but…it doesn’t feel that hot. When a few minutes have passed, he gives it back to you. “This should be better.” 

You lay the big, warm stuffed sock across your stomach and frown. “It’s not warm enough.” 

“You have gotta be kiddin’ me.” 

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, giving Joel back his sock like you just assume he’ll heat it up again for you. 

“Just a couple minutes ago you screamed bloody murder about it burnin’ you. And now it’s not hot enough?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” When Joel doesn’t jump immediately to reheat the sock for you, you look at him impatiently. “Joel.” 

“You can ask, you know.” 

But Joel gets the hint and gets up for you a third time to reheat the sock he’s letting you borrow. You don’t say please, and when he returns with the sock reheated, there’s no thank you either. What does he get from you? “It’s too hot.”

“Then tell me how I should rectify that for you, because last time I let it cool off and it wasn’t warm enough for ya after.” 

“I don’t know,” you snap. “You’re just really upsetting me right now. Everything hurts and your voice is grating.”

“I’m upsetting you?” Joel repeats your words back to you. “And my voice is grating.” 

“Yes.” 

He’s about at his wits end. “You know, you–” Joel decides not to finish that sentence. Instead, he sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out on the count of five. “Two, three, four…You need to drink some water. S’your first issue, you’re probably dehydrated. Did you drink any water?” 

“It’s not your business.”

 Jesus fucking Christ. “Okay, well I’m makin’ it my business.” Joel gets up for the fourth goddamn time and slams the cup cabinet before filling a glass with water from the sink. He marches back to the couch, “Sit up,” he says. “Drink.” 

“I don’t want to,” you whine. 

“It’ll fix your headache. Drink.” 

“It won’t actually, that’s a myth.” 

“Right, what do I know when you’ve got an answer for fuckin’ everything. Drink.” 

You sit up, scowling at Joel as you take a sip. 

“All of it.” 

You drink the rest of it, glaring at him the whole time. He’s so full of shit, as if any of what you’re going through could be fixed by drinking a glass of water. Water won’t fix your cramps, won’t fix your aching and sore back. When you’re done, you slam the glass on the end table next to you and in doing so, break Joel’s reading glasses. Oops. Didn’t see those. The lenses aren’t shattered, but one of the arms is all bent now. When you look at Joel, he’s biting his bottom lip and breathing deeply. “Your glasses broke.” 

“Yeah. I see that.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” you tell him defensively.

“Right.” 

“But you really shouldn’t leave your glasses there, Joel.”

“Yeah, right. Shouldn’t leave my glasses on the end table,” Joel says. “I should leave them where, exactly? Maybe the floor?” 

“Somewhere else.” 

“Right. Somewhere else.” 

He’s hoping that by repeating your words back to you, you start to hear how absolutely ridiculous you sound. But you don’t seem to. Joel turns and walks away before he fucking throttles you. 

“Can you put on the next movie? I wanna watch My Cousin Vinny.”

Now, now you want to watch that movie. And Joel’s gonna miss out, because he can’t stand to be around you for one minute longer. “Are your legs broken?” 

“Yes.” 

Walked into that one. “You’re fuckin’ impossible. Fine. I’ll put it on, then I’m goin’ away for a bit.” 

“Good.”

Oh, he could fucking kill you. This whole day he’s heard nothing but complaints from your mouth, no pleases or thank you’s at all. Everything he’s done today has been for you, and you couldn’t give a flying fuck. 

Joel puts on the movie, grabs his bent glasses from the end table and heads out to the garage without saying a single word to you. You wonder what bug crawled up his ass. 

-

My Cousin Vinny plays just fine until Vinny shows up in his ridiculous suit to the courthouse. The tape begins to skip a whole bunch, the movie barely making sense, and you have no idea how to fix it - not that it’s your job to know, anyway. So you call out the name of the man whose job it is. 

“Joel.” 

No answer. 

“JOELLLL,” you yell. 

Same deal. You sigh as you sit up and get off of the couch, walking to the garage door. There’s finally a break in your cramps and you’re feeling halfway-human for the first time since yesterday. Entering the garage, you find Joel sitting at his workbench, he’s working on bending the frame of his glasses back into shape. “Joel.” 

He doesn’t turn around to look at you and in fact, he heard you calling for him. He had just ignored you. “Looks like your legs are workin’ now,” Joel replies, without looking at you. “S’a miracle. Means you can follow me around now, terrific.”

You choose to ignore his sarcasm. “Whatever. You need to do something for me. The VCR is messing up and you have to fix it.”

“Hm,” he hums.

“What’s hm?” 

“I’ve fixed lotsa things for you today,” he says quietly. “I need some time to fix my glasses that you broke. S’a difficult task on account of the fact I need my glasses to see.”

“You can do me one favor, Joel. It won’t kill you.” 

Joel stops and gently places his broken glasses on his work bench. He turns to his right and glares daggers at you. “One favor,” he scoffs. “Oh, you’re a fuckin’ peach. You wanna try that again?”

“Try what again?” 

You’re fucking with him. You have to be fucking with him. Why are you fucking with him? You’re not antagonistic like this, not usually, so he concludes that you must be looking for a fight. At this point, Joel is too. 

“I’ve done you countless favors today, sweetheart,” Joel gripes.

“Yeah, but-” you begin.

Joel’s large, warm hand suddenly covers the lower half of your face, silencing your argument. “If the next words outta this mouth aren’t thank you, then I don’t wanna hear ‘em. In fact…”

He bites his inner cheek, nodding his head as he thinks. The way he stares at you, his dark eyes piercing through you - you feel the chill deep in your bones. A wave of clarity hits you as you recall some of the details of the day, the way Joel was there at every turn and while you were busy being cranky and achey, he was trying to wait on you hand and foot. Shit. You’ve been a Grade-A bitch to him all day, a total fucking cunt.

Breaking the silence, Joel finally clears his throat and continues his thought, “I’m gonna give you two options,” Joel says. “You can walk the fuck away from me, or you can get on your knees. Whichever you choose, you do so silently. Nod if you understand.” 

It’s like you’re watching a scene from a movie. You hear Joel’s words, but you almost don’t believe they’re real and so they don’t quite register. He pulls his hand away from your face slowly. Your mouth falls open a bit but you don’t say or do anything.

“Nod. If. You. Understand.” You nod quickly. Joel awaits your decision as you look at the garage door and contemplate your clean way out from this situation, “So what’ll it be?” he asks. Despite it all, that uneasy feeling in your gut, you drop to your knees anyway, eyes still lingering on the door before you look up at Joel. You trust him to take care of you and you think you might owe him this obedience after your behavior today. “You’ve earned yourself brownie points choosin’ the latter of the two options, but this still ain’t gonna be fun for you,” he says. It should scare you - and it does - but you’re still thrilled by it, by the way he sighs and his knees crack as he gets off of his barstool, by the cold look in his eyes as he reaches under his thick belly to unbuckle his belt. Standing above you, he pulls out his half-hard cock and pumps it, feeling it grow to full length in his hand. He’s thick, veiny, and generously sized, a pearly white bead of precum sits atop his slit. His cock is just an inch or two away from your mouth as he holds it between his fingers, his thumb on top and middle and forefingers on the underside. With his other hand, he cards his fingers through your hair and pulls you close, the tip of his cock pressing against your lips. “Open.”

You part your lips open and with that, Joel pushes himself into your mouth inch by inch. You smell him first, that musky and heady sort of scent. Next, you taste the saltiness of his skin and his precome on your tongue and for a moment it’s pleasurable, with his cock halfway in your mouth. You wrap your hand around the end of his shaft like you know what he wants but you don’t know, not really - Joel holds your hand in his own and squeezes it so that your knuckles grind against each other a little bit. He pushes himself further and you can’t lick him or savor this like you wanted to, you just feel his cock intruding, sliding into your mouth. Joel’s testing you, making sure that you can handle all of him and if you can’t, you know he’ll make you. 

He draws out of your mouth entirely only to force his way back in, making you gag and sputter. You attempt to pull away but Joel keeps his hand firm on your head and holds you right where he wants you. “Nuh-uh. I don’t know where you think you’re goin’, hon.” 

There’s no gentleness to it, he fucks your mouth heatedly so that you’re drooling and choking on him, your eyes springing with tears as that pressure builds behind them. “Breathe through your nose,” he reminds you. “In and out. You ain’t done jus’ ‘cause you’re cryin’.” Your lips are sore with the repeated action, your jaw is aching. He rolls his hips, his cock is deep down your throat as he relishes in your warm, wet mouth and the way it makes him feel. 

“Mmm,” you moan, you’re not sure if the noise is indicative of your pleasure or discomfort.

“Quiet,” he growls. “Heard fuckin’ enough outta you today. You keep quiet.”

Your nose is buried in that thatch of coarse curls as he rocks his hips over and over, his soft and pillowy tummy bouncing against your forehead. You squirm and whine as his tip teases the back of your throat and your mouth feels so full, uncomfortably so. Joel picks up on that. “Let it be a lesson to ya, then, if it hurts. That mouth ‘a yours has done nothin’ but bitch and moan at me today. S’a punishment, ain’t ‘sposed to feel good.” 

He’s grunting and groaning, eyes screwed shut as he uses you, pumping in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches with the brutality of the way he fucks your mouth, and just as you think you can’t take anymore, you feel Joel’s cock begin to twitch and pulse. He comes in your mouth without a warning, painting your tongue with his hot spend. It’s salty and bitter and warm on your tongue. Once you’ve swallowed, Joel reaches down and yanks you up by your bicep. He thought fucking your mouth and coming down your throat would make him feel better but honestly, it doesn’t. As he looks at your face, all puffy with tears and swollen lips, he can’t quite find it in himself to let go of his anger. Not yet, at least. “Let’s go,” he grunts as he drags you with him towards the garage door. He marches you though the house and up the stairs. 

“Where are we going?”

“Bedroom,” Joel growls, answering your question like it’s obvious. You suppose it should be, but you figured he was done with you. But he’s not. The regret begins to set in when you realize the retribution you’re about to be met with for the way you’ve treated Joel today. You’d be lying if you said that while wallowing in your pain you didn’t notice how your curt tone got under his skin, hurt his feelings and frustrated him immensely. The dread you feel can’t save you, it’s all too late now. 

 “Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

“Fuck me,” you whisper. 

“Exactly.” 

Joel pushes you into the bedroom and locks the door behind himself. “Lie down on your back,” he says. 

You protest, “But the sheets, Joel. The blood–”

“I will wash the fucking sheets. We can add it to the list of all the things I’ve done for ya today, hm?”

When you don’t jump at his request, Joel takes initiative. He pulls off your - his - shirt from your body and then bends you over the end of the neatly made bed, the old and worn comforter feels rough on the skin of your cheek. Joel pulls down your sweatpants and panties in one motion and then flips you over onto your back, your legs hanging off the end of the bed. You feel embarrassed when you catch a glimpse of your bloodied pad and underwear, moreso when you feel yourself making a mess on his bedding and between your legs. 

“You didn’t make yourself come today, did you?”

“Uhh–” you stutter. “I - I…”

“No point in gettin’ bashful now, darlin’. Just gimme an answer.”

“No,” you tell him. It’s been a while. 

“Figures.”

Joel had assumed sexual frustration had been playing a role in your attitude today. Cramps, headaches, all sorts of things going on with you and a needy, aching pussy to boot. He does feel sorry for you, but he feels sorry for himself too. It’s why he got his first, but now it’s time for you to get yours. An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary. 

Joel undresses himself before pushing your thighs apart and hitching your legs around his waist. Slowly, he slides his thumb through your folds and then circles your clit. He knows you’re vulnerable like this - bleeding pussy on display for him as you make a mess of his sheets. But he’s patient, and he massages your clit calmly until you finally let a moan, a little mmm slip. He smirks at that. 

He pushes his middle two fingers inside you, pumping in and out slowly. He then curls his fingers, searching for that sweet spot on a woman he loves so much. “Fuck,” you cry out, legs instinctually closing shut around him, and he knows he’s found it. 

“Don’t fight it,” he says, opening you back up. He curls his fingers and circles your clit in tandem, making all sorts of lewd noises with your cunt. He admires your body all laid out for him like this, your breasts and your pebbled nipples, soft tummy rising and falling with your breathy oh’s and ahh’s, thick curls framing your pretty pussy like a picture just for him. Joel takes his free hand and uses it to press down on your lower stomach, intensifying the feeling of it all. You come hard, gushing on his fingers as you whimper his name. 

Joel pulls his fingers from your core and wipes them haphazardly on his own torso. “Joel,” you gasp when you feel the thick head of his cock at your entrance.

“I am sorry,” he begins, notching his tip inside you and popping it out. He slides the blunt head through your folds and over your clit, then taps the sensitive part of you with himself. “That you’re in pain. It isn’t fair and I know that. But you’ve done nothing but take your hurt out on me.” He presses himself inside you again, “I’ve got a half a mind to take my own hurt out on you, y’know.” His voice is dark and angered, but he speaks calmly in a way that contrasts the darkness but maintains his authority all the same. “And I think I’m gonna.”

“Joel, I– ”

“Quiet,” he commands. He begins teasing your slit with his cock once more before he speaks, “So this is what we’re gonna do: you’re gonna take what I give you, however much or little it is. You’re not gonna cry or complain ‘cause you’ve done enough of that today. Right?” Joel pauses, “Nod your head.” 

 You obey his rule and nod, yes.

He drags his cock up and down your cunt again, the soft skin of your labia rubbing so nicely against his thickness. He notches himself inside you over and over again, pushing in a little bit deeper each time and pulling back out. You whine, rolling your hips in search of more. “I know, I know, sweetheart,” he coos at you to quiet you down. “You’re all out of sorts today. M’gonna fix it. I always fix it, don’t I?”

Yes. You nod again. Quiet.

“S’right,” he says. “Good girl.”

With that, Joel pushes his leaking cock into you entirely, one gradual slide that has you sucking in a breath that comes out in a strained sort of whimper. His hard, warm shaft parting your insides, filling you whole. Joel hears it in the way that you sigh, that this, this is what you needed. He rocks his hips once, twice. Experiments with shallow thrusts, inching his way in and out of you before he draws out of your pussy entirely only to thrust himself right back in, deeper and harder than before. 

With the fullness of Joel inside of you, everything seems to melt away - all that anger, misplaced or not. Joel’s rhythmic thrusting soothes you, sort of. The soreness of your body, the aching cramps in your abdomen are all gone as you focus on the in and out, the in and out. He builds a comfortable pace, but one that borders on too much too soon. His hands on your waist, pulling you towards him as he pushes into you in equal measure. 

He fucks you without discipline, no tenderness at all to the action with those sloppy thrusts, but you’re more lost in him than he is in you - he’s focused on your face, watching you make an ‘O’ with your mouth, and he’s focused on your bouncing body, your twitching thighs spread wide. Your moans, your whimpers and your whines, babbling nothing but nonsense. Joel’s brow is furrowed as he breathes heavily through his teeth, his soft body jerking above you as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over and over…

“It’s all ya needed, isn’t it? The whole goddamn time,” he pants. “Didn’t need to go an’ bitch me out all day if you needed lovin’ like this. Woulda been nice f’ya just said so.” Joel reaches for your breasts, harshly squeezing the tender, sore flesh. You wince in pain and he loosens his grip, focusing on your nipples instead. He twists and flicks the sensitive buds and your moans become louder, more high pitched. Joel fucking loves it when that happens, you never realized. 

“Oh, Joel,” you moan, “Yeah, fuck.” 

With one hand still teasing your nipples, he brings the other to your pussy. A few strokes of his thumb on your clit is all it takes to send you over the edge a second time, wanton moans and choked sobs spilling from your lips as he fucks you through it. 

And fucks you, and fucks you. 

And keeps fucking you. 

It doesn’t end, he doesn’t slow himself and you never feel that come down, that descent from pleasure. It keeps going, like pressure with nowhere to go and you feel like you might break. “I can’t, I need you to stop, stop, Joel.”

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, thrusting still. “You can take it, be a good girl. Gonna fuck you good and deep like you need. You brought this on yourself, anyway. Two more.” 

This whole time, he doesn’t stop. It’s so much at once and when you thought it was going to end, it doesn’t. Tears of overstimulation spring in your eyes and flow freely down your cheeks. Joel lets you cry because he knows you need it, he knows the release is good for you. You poor thing, how much you must be feeling right now, both physically and mentally. “It’s too much, Joel, I can’t,” you plead.

 “Always the tears with you, huh?” he taunts. “Always somethin’. Oh, I know. I know.” 

It’s the way you look at Joel that causes him to cave, eyes all wide and tear-stained. You’re spent and he knows it, what with all that your body’s put you through. You’ve had a rough day and though he did too, he can’t help but feel sympathy for you at this moment. “Oh, my sweet girl. What am I gonna do with you, hm?”

“I don’t know,” you sniffle. 

“Know you don’t, ‘n you don’t have to. S’my job,” he soothes. With his clean hand, he traces the side of your face and rubs his thumb over your cheekbone. “How about this, then - what are we gonna do next time you’re not feeling so good?” 

“I’m - I’m–”

“You’re gonna tell me what you need,” he instructs, “And you’re gonna ask for it. Nicely. So that means usin’ your manners. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. Remember those words?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Yeah, I remember.”

 “But you forgot ‘em the whole day today,” Joel says softly. “I think you gotta learn to compromise, too,” he adds. The guilt had begun to set in before, but you really start to feel the burn now. You were unkind to Joel, and he’s been nothing but sweet, doting on every one of your needs. “I think an apology’s in order for the way you treated me today.” 

He’s right, and you know it. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Joel.”

“Oh, I know you are. You just needed the reminder, s’okay,” You hadn’t even noticed how his thrusting had slowed to a still until it picks up again slowly, as he presses kisses to you. Your cheeks first, then your lips. “I’ll compromise too - I’m only gonna make you come one more time, not two. Sound good? Sound fair?”

“I don’t think I can, Joel…”

“Yeah, you can, s’the last one. Take it good for me,” he encourages. “Take it good.” 

That’s what he repeats as his thrusts build again, fucking you deeply. Take it good, take it good for me. He hikes you up further on the bed and joins you so that he’s no longer standing at the floor, he’s got you pressed in half instead, your knees on either side of your chest and your feet above his shoulders. This angle intensifies everything and he knows, oh he knows how much it is for you. You’re tired, sore, overstimulated. But you’ll be done soon, he’ll be done with you soon. He takes your hand and wedges it between your bodies, pressing your own fingers to your clit, “Let go for me, I wanna feel you let go for me,” he says. “Focus right here. You’re gonna come with me, keep your eyes on me…”

You don’t even have to massage your clit, the way Joel angles himself has his body doing all the work, his pubic bone adding pressure to your fingers adding pressure to your clit. It’s intense, all of it - deeply energetic, overwhelming. You can’t quite discern your orgasm as it builds, there’s no definitive start but it’s powerful, devastating almost. Washing over you in waves, you feel it in the base of your spine first. You feel it in your gut, the backs of your thighs all the way to your toes. You hardly register that he’s coming with you, filling you deep with his come. His jaw is clenched tight and he’s groaning, grunting as he milks himself in you.

He leaves you there, whimpering, twitching on the bed. You hear the faint sound of running water, you figure he’s washing himself off. You’re surprised when he returns to you, pelvis covered in your blood, and scoops you right up in his arms. He helps you to your feet and on shaky legs, guides you to the bathroom. It no longer smells like bleach but instead, lavender. He’s got a candle lit on the sink and the bathtub is filled with warm, bubbly water. “Picked out a bubble bath for you earlier when I went out. Wanna test it out with me?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “Yes. Please.” 

Joel sits in the tub first, spreads his legs and welcomes you to sit between them. He washes the blood from your poor, sensitive core and your thighs, washes it from his own body as well. When he’s done, he pulls you back into his chest and his hands find your breasts. “They’re tender, huh,” he murmurs into the side of your head. 

“Super, yeah. Sore.” 

“I’ll bet,” he says. He gently massages the tissue for you, his strong hands working you out in a way you can’t quite do. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

Joel chuckles. “Bout fuckin’ time you thanked me,” he says. “You’re welcome.” 

If you enjoyed, please reblog with thoughts, leave me a comment, or send me an ask! Your words motivate me to keep writing for you all 🩷

Least helpful cats award goes to these two 👇 if you’ve ever wondered what takes me so long to put fics out, it’s this. I try to write and I’m cockblocked by these fuzzballs.

[stevenose]

body to flame, pt ii (18+)

summary: steve gets an hour of (un)limited access to you after your previous arrangement.

word count: ~5.3k

contains: bitchy!steve and bitchy!reader … and they were coworkers :0; steve is a softie despite it all; reader with a vagina and breasts; no gendered language used for reader; lingerie; kissing 😳; oral (reader receiving); fingering; piv; pet names (honey, angel, sweetheart); multiple orgasms + overstimulation!

author’s note: you can read part one here!

You’re bent over painting your toenails. Your goddamn toenails. So your coworker can have his way with you for 60 minutes just because he knows how to use his fingers, or whatever.

It’s hard to maneuver the phone between your shoulder and ear with your polish brush in one hand and your foot in the other. Steve’s blabbing about something and you’re trying so hard not to let his tone affect you, even though you’re already dressed up in the nicest lingerie you own.

“You know you don’t have to,” he says, which stills you temporarily.

“Deal’s a deal,” you sigh, grimacing as a bit of black polish gets on your cuticle.

“Yeah, you sound really devastated.”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying,” he continues, doing that fake innocence schtick. “An hour’s a pretty long time, y’know. And it’s the Harrington Torture Chamber, after all.”

Your face heats and you can’t quite concentrate on painting anymore. “Oooh, and what’s that entail, again?”

“See? You’re already trying to get off and our date’s in three hours.”

You scoff. “First of all, I don’t get off on torture. And second, it’s not a date.”

“What would you call it?”

“A contractual arrangement.”

Steve sucks a breath in through his teeth. “Ouch. So that’s what you think of me as, huh?”

“You’re my coworker, too.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

You have to return the nail polish brush to its container, getting a bit overheated. “What now? Gonna see how long it takes for me to fall for you?”

“Uh, no. You already have.”

You scoff again, pulling yourself out of your little Harrington stupor. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I know you’re upset I didn’t fuck you at work,” he drawls on, “but I didn’t want to get interrupted. You know? Gotta take my time with you. I’m thinking we go for an hour and two minutes since that’s what I had left over.”

“The deal was for one hour.”

“Yeah, but what’s two more minutes? …Huh. I guess that is a long time for you.”

Steve is just as much arousing as he is annoying. “Eighteen minutes is not nearly as impressive as you think.”

“Oh, really?” he says. “Let’s try some math out, huh? What’s sixty minutes divided by eighteen?”

“I don’t know, a little over three?”

He speaks to you like you’re a dog. “Good girl! That’s right. Three point three three three three three… why don’t we round it up to an even three point five?”

“You’re big on rounding up, huh?”

“And didn’t you cum twice? Am I remembering that correctly?”

Your heart hammers under your bralette. “Yeah?”

“Okay, then let’s say that three-point-five times two is seven. So that means, with my track record, I can make you cum seven times tonight.” His voice gets a little lower. “And believe me, it’s my intention.”

You’re a little gobsmacked. “You’re out of your goddamn mind, Steve. Since when did you get so good at math, anyway?”

“It’s not really math, it’s like… sex numbers.”

“Very hot, Steve, keep talking like that,” you deadpan.

“Weren’t you just cumming twice on my hand on a dirty couch in the break room of the Hawkins Family Video for the chance of a few hundred dollars? Or… was that someone else?”

You swallow. “I’ll see you at nine, Steve.”

“Nine. Three hours. One hundred and eighty minutes. Ten thousand and eight hundred seconds.” He gasps. “Oh, ten thousand, seven hundred ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven….”

“Goodbye, Steve.”

“… ninety-four, ninety-thr—“

You hang up on him. Three hours seems a bit too long to wait, though he will never know you think that.

You knock. Three, quick rasps, your heart beating quick under your ribcage. You’re about to adjust your skirt again but the door swings open with such ferocity it makes you gasp.

“Hi,” Steve says, beaming brightly. You can smell the sandalwood and pepper on his skin and he looks so good that you feel your cheeks heating.

“Eager much?” you force out, feeling awkward while he just stares at you, unwavering, perhaps as if he’s trying to use x-ray vision to see under your clothes.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, reaching for you, pulling you inside quickly. You nearly stumble in your heels, ones you’ve only worn once before. You’re realizing now how bad of an idea it was, but it doesn’t quite matter as Steve kneels to take them off for you.

Steve on his knees is a much more comfortable dynamic for you.

“Wow,” you laugh, lifting your foot slightly so Steve can slip your shoe off, “what a gentleman.”

“I’m not wasting any time here,” he says, a big, warm hand on the back of your calf as he helps you lift your other foot. “Should’ve just came naked so we could get to it.”

“Those weren’t in the instruc—!”

Your breath catches in your throat as Steve’s hands travel higher, up the backs of your legs, fingers tickling your thighs. They rest at the edge of your lacey underwear, and your brain suddenly isn’t working anymore.

“—tions.”

“Lace? All for me?” he grins smugly.

You nod slowly. You can’t really beat the “I got dressed up to get boned by Steve Harrington” allegations.

“And here I thought you didn’t like me.” He stands, crowds you against the front door. “Could smell your pussy, by the way. Must have been a long ride here, huh?”

“Rob - Robin?” you ask, mouth dry.

Steve’s doe eyes look gently into yours. “She’s giving us some privacy.”

You can hardly breathe. “What a good friend.”

Steve licks his lips, leans in a little closer. “Uh-huh. The best.”

“You have fifty-five minutes left,” you breathe.

His thick brows twitch together. “No no no. We haven’t even started yet.”

You scoff and he rolls his eyes at you, breaking away, giving you some much needed room. It’s sort of incredible how hot he makes you. It’s akin to how adoringly irritating you find him.

“C’mere,” he says, beckoning you to follow him, and you make your way to his bedroom. It’s much cleaner than you anticipated - pristine, in fact, and it smells like his laundry. All clean and floral with the undertone of spiced cologne. He even set up candles, really enhanced the atmosphere.

“Plaid,” you point out, gesturing to his bed.

“What? Not good enough for you to get plowed on?”

“Plowed?”

“Bad choice of words.” He turns to you, hands on his hips. “Let me tell you precisely what I’m planning on, okay? And you tell me if something doesn’t sound good.”

“Okay?”

Steve licks his lips, then sits on the edge of his bed. He beckons you to him again, patting his thigh, and you gingerly step forward, sliding into his lap just as you were a few days ago. His hands find the swell of your ass and he keeps them firmly planted there. “First fifteen minutes I’ll spend taking off your clothes and letting you get comfortable.” He pulls you forward, your cunt catching on his jeans, making your breath hitch. “Then I think I’ll spend the next twenty getting to know this greedy pussy a bit better.”

“It’s not greedy.”

“Whatever you say. I know I’ve gotta spend some time stretching you out - so damn tight on my fingers. Then the next twenty-five - twenty-seven, if you’ll have me - I’ll see if my cock really can fit in you.”

You swallow harshly, entirely too hot and entirely too seen.

Steve quirks a brow. “How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good,” you say softly, your fingers instinctually playing with the hair curled at the back of Steve’s head. “And - exactly how many times are you going to cum?”

Now he’s blushing. “I’m not - not really worried about that.”

Your brows furrow. “Wh—? You don’t want to cum?”

You’re flipped suddenly onto your back, landing with a loud oof!. Steve rolls on top of you, caging you in with his forearms. “Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“Do you think that would make this any weirder?”

“Yes or no, sweetheart. Didn’t ask for lip.”

“Well, you sort of d—“

He doesn’t kiss you. His lips find your jawline and the feeling - the closeness - shuts you up. You gasp softly and reach for his shirt, tangling your fingers in the soft cotton of his polo. You’re overwhelmed with the scent of him and the fresh sheets below you at first, and then overwhelmed with the ticklish pleasure of his lips finding your neck.

“So, you dressed up for me?” he mumbles against your neck.

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you like me or somethin’?” Steve cuts you off when his lips plant against your skin, sucking sweetly. You sigh in response. “Yeah, figured.” He moves a hand to the hem of your shirt, fingertips ghosting against your hot skin. “Can I see what’s underneath?”

You nod and he pulls away, pupils blown wide. He looks a little pathetic, in a cute way. Cheeks flushed, hair messy, chest heaving.

“Getting this excited over a pair of tits?”

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “C’mon, help me out.”

You sit up with him, watching his face closely for every single reaction he has. You watch him swallow before he pushes your shirt up above the swell of your breasts, revealing a blue-grey, lacey bralette. Nothing entirely special, but Steve’s eyes widen, and he swallows again before looking back up at you.

“So?” you whisper, nervous.

“Take—“ he clears his throat. “Take your shirt off.”

You do so quickly, and you’re pushed gently back down onto your back while Steve melts down to the floor to work on your skirt. Though he doesn’t do much - just lifts it up again, staring straight at the wet spot on your matching underwear. You feel vulnerable, staring up at his ceiling, too nervous to look down at his hungry eyes.

“What time is it?” you ask suddenly, snapping Steve out of his pussy-drunk trance.

He groans. “Are you serious?”

You prop yourself up on your elbows. “It’s been five minutes, right?”

“You’re pushing it,” he says, then taps on the face of his watch. “I’m keeping track.”

“Oh, bullshit.”

“Fine.” He makes quick work of taking it off, then reaches for your wrist. “Here. Since I’ll be so busy, you keep track. Remember what the timeline is?”

“Fifteen, twenty, twenty-five.”

Steve doesn’t push the two extra minutes thing because he already knows you’re not going to adhere to this whole “one hour only” schtick. “Exactly. Better keep good track of time, or we’ll have to end before the good stuff happens.”

“You mean when you plow me?”

He ignores you. “Think you can do that?”

You nod.

“Gonna need you to get up for me again.”

You groan, but stand, aided by Steve, who takes your hands and tugs you up. He switches places with you, sitting again, then does a motion with his finger. Turn around.

His hand finds your zipper at the back of your skirt and he slowly tugs it down before letting the fabric fall in a heap on his floor. Both of you are silent, your heart beating hard as you wait for his next move. Those hands find your hips again, and he pulls you down onto his lap, facing away from him.

“You look divine,” he mumbles, hooking his chin over your shoulder, his hands splaying out across your stomach. He kisses the junction of your shoulder and neck, giving you goosebumps. “Really, all this for me?”

You laugh breathlessly. “You’re my only hookup tonight.”

“Lucky me,” he mumbles into your ear. Your pussy throbs, his hands moving higher. “Who else has seen you in this, huh?” And he snaps the strap of your bralette for emphasis.

“Just - just you.”

“You buy this for me?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” His hands crawl upwards, fingers dipping beneath the lacy band and then higher until he’s cupping your tits. “You comfortable?”

You nod, biting your cheek to stop you from whimpering.

“Feel what you’re doin’ to me?” he asks into your ear, rutting his hips up.

You moan and Steve chuckles, kissing your skin again. “Harrington Torture Chamber isn’t all that bad, huh?”

His fingers pinch your nipples and you sigh, leaning back into him. His lips press against your neck again, leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin. You whine when his fingers tug and pull, completely at his mercy, hands useless beside you.

“Like having your tits played with?” he asks. “You’re gonna ruin my jeans, honey.”

“Oh, don’t.”

Steve twists your nipples a little harder - not any less pleasurable, but enough to make you gasp. “We’re a bit past the bullshit, aren’t we? You’re bitched out on my lap again and you want to act like you’re not soaked?”

His legs part, spreading yours open with him, and he moves one strong hand down to your cunt. You moan brokenly at one swipe across your clothed clit, and Steve tsks. “Must have trained your pussy to get wet around me, huh?”

You squirm, but Steve traps you on his lap, one arm crossed across your chest and the other cupping your pussy. His fingers still play with your nipple, hardening it under the fabric. His other hand rubs you through your underwear, and he keeps your legs open even when you try to shut them.

“That too much?” he asks, concerned.

And you sort of hate that he’s asking, because you have to shake your head and verbally admit that you like what he’s doing to you. “No.”

“Thought so,” he mumbles, sounding relieved. “You must have a thing for getting pinned and played with. Or do you just have a thing for me?”

“Shut up,” you whine, fingers clutching at the forearm around your torso. Your head falls back against Steve’s shoulder and he kisses along your jawline, fingers moving slow and methodical.

“Make me,” he presses, fingers gently pinching your clit now. You gasp and whine, squirming again, but this time attempting to get more. “Look at me.”

You look off to the side to see him, brows furrowed, eyes hooded, mouth agape. Steve nudges your nose with the tip of his and he gets so close, like he might kiss you - but instead, he talks against your mouth, breathing your air. “Look at you. So pretty, baby, so good for me, yeah?”

You nod, whimpering.

“Pussy’s so nice, honey.” He’s panting a little into your mouth now, readjusting his grip on you. “So wet and silky, gonna feel so good around my cock. You want that?”

You nod again, lost in his eyes, hardly paying attention because your clit is tightening, pleasure gripping your lower stomach like a vice.

Steve smiles, nudges your nose with his again. You’re so entranced, trying to lean forward so he’ll kiss you, but he asks, “What time is it, honey?”

“Huh?” you moan.

“The time, pretty.”

“Oh, shit!” you gasp, twisting your arm towards you. Your stomach drops, though you aren’t sure why. “It’s - it’s - um, it’s been twenty —“

Steve moves his arms away from you, leaving your pussy neglected. You whimper, reaching for him again, but he pats your thigh. “C’mon, up.”

“But —!”

Steve seems rather unfazed despite the throbbing hard-on he’s subjecting you to. “Told you to pay attention to the time. Now we’re over, and that means five minutes less of my cock inside of you. Up,” he repeats, taking you by the hips and helping you stand.

You’re a little lost - mind hazy over your thwarted orgasm. But you let him lay you on his bed, on his fluffy, expensive pillows, while you drip onto his sheets.

Steve kisses the tip of your nose. “And you thought I’d cheat, huh?”

“That - you didn’t even make me cum,” you attempt, narrowing your eyes. “Thought you were aiming for seven?”

“I’m re-strategizing.” He crawls downward, resting on his stomach in front of your puffy pussy. Licks his lips, gets sidetracked for a moment before looking back up at you. “I’m just not sure you deserve to cum that many times, you know?”

“Think it would be painful.”

“Not the way I do it.”

You laugh at the absurdity of his statement, opening your mouth to ask what the hell he’s talking about, but you choke a bit when he slips your underwear off. He’s never been this close to your pussy before, and both of you swallow hard. You’re embarrassed, so on-display, but Steve kisses your thigh so gently that you’re able to relax while he slides his arms under you.

You sneak a peek down to look at him. He watches your cunt with fascination, lust, his eyes dark. It’s thrilling.

“Keep ‘em spread,” he says softly, looking to the side to kiss your inner thigh. It tickles. “Know you had a hard time with it earlier. It’ll be worth it. Just trust me.”

“O-okay.”

“Keep an eye on that watch for me.” He licks his lips, talking more to your pussy than to you. “Though I wouldn’t mind staying here for a while longer. It’s so pretty, baby.”

The tip of Steve’s nose presses against your clit. He flicks his eyes up to look at you, already biting your lip. And he inhales, deep, eyes rolling back for half a second before he dips his tongue in and up your folds.

“Oh,” you gasp, legs already twitching together. You try to stay good this time, to let him have you how he wants. It’s very clear that he wants this - unrestricted access to your pussy, his tongue fucking the tight hole, his nose rubbing against your clit. “Oh, Steve.”

He kisses towards, open mouthed, sloppy, then wraps his lips around your clit. Your hands fly to his hair and he grunts, fingers digging into your thighs. He sucks, unrelenting, until you whine. And then his tongue flicks at your clit for a few moments before it goes back to fucking you.

“Feels so good,” you cry, tugging sharply on his locks, vibrating when he groans. “Oh my god, Steve, Jesus - Christ -!”

He’s slow with it, too. Like it’s a meal to savor. Eyes all half lidded and blissed out, nose wet with you, cheeks pink. Every time you think he cannot possibly look sexier, he does. And even though he’s right here, right now, you’re thinking of all the lost opportunities - times when it was slow at work and he could have gotten on his knees to worship you like this. Laying in the back of his car on break while he made you cum - probably twice, again - and walking back inside with shaking legs and a sweaty forehead.

“Look at me,” he says, voice thick, because you’re staring unfocused up at the ceiling.

“Can’t,” you breathe.

He stops, lifts his head up and rests his chin on your thigh. His thumb rubs soothingly against your skin. “Well let’s stop, then —“

“No!” you cry, the manicured hands tangled in his hair pulling him forward, which is apparently precisely what turns him on. He’s back to fucking you with his tongue in an instant, moaning all the while, rutting his cock against the bed. Now you can’t stop staring, while he’s lost in the scent and taste of you.

“Don’t stop,” he groans, referring to the tugging, so you don’t. And you watch him, his eyes opening to look at you, both of your faces turning hot. “Oh, Christ,” he groans, bringing his hand towards your cunt.

His middle finger, long and dexterous, slides in with no restriction. He finds that spongy spot inside of you again while his lips suck and kiss your clit. You feel like screaming, feeling high and so, so blissed out. You rock yourself against his finger, and it takes you a moment to work yourself up to it, but you finally moan, “More.”

He grins. "Greedy."

A second finger. It’s a squeeze, but Steve sticks the landing. Presses up against your sweet spot with his tongue unrelenting on your clit, and he’s certainly coaxing an orgasm out of you. It’s much more intense than the two you’d had with him before. His tongue and fingers work in sync so well that you fear you might cum messy and wet all over him.

Not that you entirely care.

Steve pulls back, just a bit. His lips still move against your clit. “Gonna cum? Feel you clenching down, 's like last time. You’re so tight, feel incredible - gonna feel so good when you cum, honey, let me have it.”

“God,” you choke out, “you’re so obsessed with me.”

He laughs, licks a broad stripe from his fingers up to your swollen clit. “Yeah, guilty.”

Your stomach fliips hard, the band inside stretching to a near breaking point. “Oh my — f-fuck-!”

He stays steady. Keeps stroking your g-spot and sucking your clit. Except now he’s whining, brows furrowed, like he’s a petulant child that wants a treat. One more glance down at him and you’re cumming, back arching. Steve tries to pin you with his arms but it’s simply no use. He chases you, lips attached to you, fingers curling, your hands pulling his hair. He gasps, makes a noise of disbelief, and swallows every last drop of sweetness you give him.

Your vision is hazy. Black tinged. You’ve never cum so hard in your life, and that includes your precious escapade. Your chest rises as falls as you catch your breath, disoriented, legs shaking.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mumbles, sliding up your shaking form. “That was so sexy, shit — are you okay?”

You nod. You might be in love with him now. His fingers are still buried inside of you, flexing gently. You rock your hips and mewl. “Need you to fuck me,” you rasp.

“How much time do we have?” Steve looks down at the watch on your wrist and tuts. “Aw, man. We only have ten minutes. Guess we should get you cleaned up then, huh?”

His fingers start slipping out of you, but you’re quick to snap your shaking thighs together. “No,” you whimper. You need his cock so bad it’s driving you insane - like something is clawing at your chest and trying to get out.

“What’s that?” He’s a cocky son of a bitch. “You want more time in the Harrington T—“

“Please shut up,” you beg, wrapping your legs around his waist now.

“Are you saying it’s not torture?” His thumb rubs against your clit, flicking it slowly. “Are you saying you like this?”

And here he goes again. Making you fall apart twice in the span of two minutes. Flicking at your clit, hovering his lips above yours, sinking his fingers back into you. Slips a third one in for good measure, knows how hard it’ll be to take him.

“Tell me,” he presses, nose touching yours. You’re going cross-eyed trying to keep up with him. “Tell me how good I make you feel.”

Your resolve diminishes quickly. “Make me feel so good.”

“Was that so hard?” He smiles. “You gonna cum about it?”

You pant and squirm and writhe under Steve. He crooks his fingers up towards your sweet spot again and you cry out just as his mouth engulfs yours. He works smoothly, diligently, and you figure for half a second that his hand must hurt.

Then he’s pulling away, mumbling to himself and quickly shucking his jeans down. You look down, curious. He wears such tight pants that you think you have a pretty good idea of how big he is.

You were off by a few inches.

You can’t help but to widen your eyes. He’s so fucking pretty. A thick path of dark hair leads down to his trimmed pubes, a stark contrast to his highlighted, golden skin. And his cock’s gorgeous. Long, thick, curved towards the tip, head pink and it’s weeping. He pumps himself a few times, already so wet.

“Did you cum?” you breathe.

He doesn’t answer you. Just leans over past you to grab a condom out of his bedside drawer. Rips the foil with his teeth and slides the latex on in one fluid motion. You know he’s done this before, but his agility still surprises you.

Not willing to waste a moment longer, Steve finds his way back on top of you again, sliding himself in between your spread thighs. You hook your legs around his waist. His thumb’s at your clit again and you shiver, mouth falling open.

“Are you ready?”

“As I can be,” you whisper. “You’re a lot to take.”

“I’ll take it easy,” he whispers back. “Relax for me, okay?”

With his fingers playing with your clit, it’s pretty easy. Your eyes fall shut and you focus more on the bundle of nerves, the ever-tightening feeling in your stomach, Steve’s breath fanning against your face. He presses the tip against your hole, rubs himself up and down.

Then he presses into you.

Your eyes widen. Your mouth falls again. You exhale shakily. He’s gotta be a single inch inside and he’s stretching you to your limit.

“I know,” he coos, applying steady pressure to your clit. “I’ll take my time, ‘s okay.”

“So big,” you whisper, delayed, your mind a bit blank.

“I know,” he repeats, but he’s smiling now. “Why d’you think I had to spend so much time on you?”

One inch deeper. You mewl, hands moving to his shoulders. “Cause - b-because you’re - you -“

“You, you, you,” he teases. “Love seein’ you like this, really suits you.”

You don’t have the capacity to argue with him. “Kiss me.”

“Where?” Another inch. Steve leans forward, nose against nose, lips against lips. “Here?”

You nod, awe-struck by his hazel eyes. You plead with your own.

“I’ll never say no to a pretty angel like you,” he whispers. "Don't get too excited, okay? This is a contractual agreement, after all."

Finally - finally - he’s kissing you. Moving his mouth so perfectly, intentionally. Lips soft and a little wet. He tastes like mint and - well - your pussy.

But Steve, he encompasses all of you — his weight on top of you, his lips moving slowly, his hips moving slower. The scent of him in your nose, his warmth transferring to your skin. He pulls his hips back, then slides in. A little deeper. You gasp against him and his tongue slips into your mouth. Now you moan, and he moans, fucking into you shallowly.

“C’mon,” he whispers, “let me in, want you so bad, please.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders. “I’m trying,” you whimper.

“It’s okay. Doing so good for me, yeah?” He kisses down your neck. The tickle helps distract you from the stretch, and he gets another inch in. Steve gasps, resting his head in the crook of your neck. “You feel so goddamn good.”

He sucks at your skin, running his tongue along it. Thumb still circling your clit. Fucking you shallow, slow.

“You okay?” he grits out.

You nod, rocking your hips. You’re getting used to it, the sharp pain - it’s melting away, all of Steve’s ministrations to help you working. “More, Steve. Want more.”

He kisses up to your ear. “You sure?”

Goosebumps prick up on your skin. “‘m sure.” And just to see what he would do, you say, “Please, baby.”

“Oh, God,” he groans. Pulls back. Thrusts in deeper. “Can’t say shit like - like that.”

It takes you a sec to find your voice. “Like what?”

Back. Forward. Punches the air out of your lungs. “Like baby,” he grunts.

Back. Forward. “Honey.”

Back. Forward. Slips inside you nearly to the hilt. “Handsome.”

Your eyes roll back. Steve’s pace picks up, panting above you. You wish he was undressed so you could see him. You know the chest hair he sports. Want to feel it on your skin, run your fingers through it while he has you like this.

“Why not?” you choke out.

He moves away from your neck to look at you. You melt. His hazel eyes are soft, looking into yours. But he doesn’t answer.

You think you understand.

You wrap your legs a little tighter, bringing him in, rocking on him. Steve sputters. It’s clear he likes taking his time, but you’re close to cumming. So, so close, and you want Steve right there with you. Spurring him on, you ask, “You - are you gonna make me cum or what?”

Steve laughs, rolls his eyes. “There’s that fuckin’ mouth.”

Now he’s drilling you. The bed groans. His thumb moves quicker, presses harder. You squeal, digging into his shirt, trying to stay grounded. It’s impossible, though. When he’s looking at you like this. Eyes dark, focused, his mouth parted, tongue licking over his soft lips. You moan uncontrollably, twisting, tugging harder at his stupid shirt.

“Hold on,” he gasps, sitting up quickly and slipping out of you. Throws his top off to the side, smirking when you gawk. He takes your calves and throws them over his shoulders, leans back down and folds you in half. “Want you like this, this okay?”

You already know it’ll ruin you. “Yeah, come on.”

Steve slips back inside of you and sets his pace quickly. He must be all the way in. Your cunt squelches around him, his balls slapping wetly against your ass. Your hands move towards the mattress, gripping his sheets and twisting, tugging, losing control of your body.

You can’t shut the fuck up. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god—!”

“Shit,” Steve grits, pressing his forehead against yours. Bending you further. You’re still babbling. “Yeah? You - ngh - f-feel me?”

His thumb hasn’t found its way back to your clit, but you really think you might not need it there. Instead, his hand cups a breast, tugging your bralette down, flicking at your nipple. Now he’s babbling. “Wanna suck - suck on these, fuck, look so good.” He whimpers, cock twitching.

He pummels against your sweet spot. Over and over, until you’re seeing white and Steve looks so angelic above you. Doesn’t look like your annoying coworker anymore. He’s ethereal, in his element, sweat beading at his impeccable hairline. Dark strands fall over his brows, creased in concentration.

“I’m gonna cum,” you’re rambling now. “Steve, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, oh my — fuck!”

“Yeah, baby,” he whines. “Let me feel it, squeeze my cock, doin’ — so good —“

Your back arches, much like earlier, as your orgasm hits you. Unaided. Just Steve’s cock, Steve’s face, Steve’s words bringing you over the edge. He’s praising you, but you can’t hear him. Everything’s fuzzy and warm and your orgasm goes on forever, clenching and unclenching, pretty moans and gasps falling from your mouth.

Steve leans forward, buries his head in the crook of your neck while his pace turns sloppy. His teeth scrape against the delicate skin, but he seems to know better than to bite. His canines scratch, sliding over sweat-slicked skin, and with a low groan he cums, both of your legs shaking. It takes him ages to finish, too — each time he thinks he’s about done, his cock produces more. “Fuck, fuck, oh — shit, honey, God—!”

You hold him - best as you can in the awkward position - running your hands through his hair. “Good boy,��� you whisper. It’s all you can really think, brain all fucked out. Steve whimpers again.

Panting, you both rest for a moment. Your legs are still shaking and you’re not sure how Steve’s keeping himself up. You want to tell him he can lay on you, that you’ve got him - but then his goddamn thumb is on your neglected clit. Moving back and forth, slow and hard, and you cum again in fifteen seconds. Clenching on his cock, making Steve moan and laugh breathlessly, kissing your neck.

He finally moves enough so that your legs can fall to the bed. You hope he doesn’t mind you staying here for long. There’s no way you can drive home.

“That was three,” he pants, a big smile on his face. Dopey, blissful. He’s still wearing the condom and you can see the cum inside, makes your stomach flip and face heat.

You do not need to be thinking of this man cumming inside of you.

"You promised seven."

"Always gotta complain. Weren't these three worth it?"

You look over at him, in his glowy glory. "You only had one. Maybe you'll get three next time."

His cock kicks. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Just gotta think of another bet.”

Steve scoffs. "As if you need a bet to do this again."

And he's right. You don't.

[llamagoddessofficial]

📚 pretty please?

I shan't give too many details about this one, because I am pretty dedicated to writing it at this point - but Farmtale Sans is on the cards. Here's a teeny extract from the first chapter I've written out.

---

You sat down at the kitchen table. The chairs smelt of wood varnish. You had no idea what you were going to do for food, the last store you recalled passing on the way here felt like hours ago. You had no heating, no lights. No gas. Almost definitely no hot water. 

You felt like just laying down on the floor and crying forever. 

A knock on the front door. 

You jumped out of your fucking skin. Someone was at the door? Suddenly, a bunch of horrible thoughts started racing through your head. Did you get the wrong house? Was the will wrong? Did the key just happen to fit? Is this someone’s home, and you just came in, kicked their carpet and sat at their table? You scrabbled over to the door, rattling the handle and eventually shoving it open. 

... A massive, lanky skeleton monster stood before you. 

“HELLO THERE!” He spoke extremely cheerfully, but in a volume that made you startle. He was wearing dark blue overalls, heavy black rubber boots, and an orange gingham-patterned top. “WHY, IT’S LOVELY TO FINALLY MEET YOU! I’M PAPYRUS, YOUR NEW NEIGHBOUR!”

He stuck out a huge hand, covered by a garden glove. 

You stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, blinking up at the skeleton. He was... how did he get here so fast? Eventually you snapped yourself out of your rude gawking and took his hand, shaking cautiously.

“... Neighbour?” you managed to say. But there weren’t any houses around for what felt like miles...?

He nodded enthusiastically. “MY BROTHER AND I OWN THE FARM JUST OUTSIDE OF THE TOWN. WE’RE A HALF HOUR DRIVE AWAY.”

You paused. “You came out all that way, just to greet me?”

He seemed confused, for a moment, but quickly smiled again, even breaking into chuckles. “OH! YOU MUST BE FROM THE CITY, RIGHT? NYEHEHEH, YOU MUST THINK HALF AN HOUR IS A LONG DRIVE! NYEHEHEHE!”

... What a strange feeling. You’d never before met someone who could laugh right at you, yet not feel malicious at all. He still made you feel like he was laughing with you. Papyrus’ smile reached his eyes (eyesockets?) so much that he had smile lines in the bone.

You smiled yourself, a little. “Y-yeah, I guess I do think that’s a long way. I’m (y/n). How did you know I’d arrived?”

“TORIEL HAS BEEN LOOKING AFTER THIS HOUSE FOR A FEW YEARS. WHEN I HEARD IT WAS FINALLY GOING TO BE PUT TO USE, I STARTED DRIVING PAST EVERY DAY, TO BE CERTAIN THAT AS SOON AS OUR NEW NEIGHBOUR MOVED IN I’D BE ABLE TO GREET THEM LIKE A PROPER NEIGHBOUR SHOULD.” He spoke so fast, but so confidently. “I’M SO GLAD I WAS ABLE TO MEET YOU BEFORE I REACHED ONE HUNDRED VISITS!”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. “Th... thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“ANYWAY. NOW THAT I’VE INTRODUCED MYSELF, I MUST INSIST YOU JOIN US FOR DINNER!”

What? “Huh?”

“OF COURSE!” He nodded again, as if agreeing with himself. “IT IS NOT ONLY THE POLITE THING TO DO, BUT I HIGHLY DOUBT YOU HAVE IMMEDIATE DINNER PLANS THAT ARE HEALTHY OR NUTRITIOUS CONSIDERING YOUR LONG TRIP! I MUST INSIST THAT YOUR FIRST MEAL IN YOUR NEW COMMUNITY IS A GOOD ONE!”

... You could’ve cried. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be as nightmarish as you thought.

“I’d love to. But I’ve really got to unpack everything first, and clean this old place out. We could exchange phone numbers?”

“I’LL HELP YOU UNPACK!”

You stared incredulously at the monster before you. Was he real? “I-I,”

“I’LL CALL MY BROTHER. I CAN’T GUARANTEE HE’LL BE HERE BEFORE WE’RE FINISHED, THOUGH, HE’S SUCH A SLOWPOKE.”

[ashwhowrites]

Hi! Can I request a Mungrove x Reader fic with 1 from angst and 16 from fluff from the prompt list?

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

"What’s the point of trying if it just proves that I’ll never be good enough?”

“I never thought I could miss someone this much,"

Enough

Y/N and Billy graduated, which left Eddie behind to repeat another year. The three have been dating for a while and got used to being together all the time. But now the summer is over and Eddie had to return to Hawkins High.

Eddie was jealous and upset that Y/N and Billy got to stay together while he was left out. Y/N and Billy missed him too, upset that they had to wait to see Eddie until the school day was over.

Billy was worried about Eddie being left to the wolves but believed he'd stand his ground. Y/N was more worried about the girls, but Eddie reassured her there was no one else.

She wished she could believe that. Eddie had been in school for three months, and all Y/N heard about was Chrissy Cunningham.

It made Y/N's blood boil. Chrissy had years to get to know Eddie, but she waited until Y/N was no longer around. That was snake shit and broke every girl code rule ever made.

Billy was always collected in himself when it came to jealousy. And he never saw Chrissy as a threat, until Y/N got all the ideas in his head.

It was routine for Y/N to drop Eddie off in the morning and for Billy to pick him up. Y/N clenched her teeth every morning because Chrissy would be waiting at the front doors.

Billy began to notice that Eddie would talk all the way with Chrissy to his car. It was like she was attached to his hip. But Billy bit his tongue, something he learned from their girlfriend.

Billy's knuckles were white as he listened to Eddie talk about Chrissy the whole drive. Eddie didn't notice, so lost in talking as the short drive home came to a stop.

~~~

It didn't end with Chrissy, soon he was making friends with all the popular kids. Billy and Y/N wanted to be supportive, but they couldn't help but notice he was changing.

Eddie never cared about being popular, that's what made him unique. Y/N didn't care if he was popular or not when they first got together. Billy was popular but he learned not to care about it once he fell in love. Once Billy was off the market, his time was focused on his relationship. The three got to be in their own little bubble.

But Eddie popped it so he could escape.

~

"Any word?" Y/N sighed as Billy walked to the seat across from her.

The two waited at the restaurant for Eddie but lost hope.

"I called his house, Wayne said he was out with friends. And he's not with us, so I'm guessing he's with..." Billy trailed off as Y/N's frown deepened.

"Chrissy and his new friends" Y/N snapped

"He'll come around. Let's order and have fun. It's date night, and I am the best at date nights." Billy said with a wink

Y/N laughed and agreed. She flipped open the menu and the two began talking like nothing was wrong.

That was the first time Eddie ditched and sadly wasn't the last.

~

"If we wait any longer we'll miss the movie" Billy groaned. He leaned against the wall in the theater as they stared at the doors.

"I know, babe. But maybe just another minute?" She asked. Her hand slipped into his as she squeezed it.

"Like I could ever say no to you" Billy teased, leaning down to press a short kiss against her lips.

"If he's not here in a minute, we'll go," Y/N said as she pulled away. She smiled, but they both knew it was fake. Her eyes went back to the door, waiting and waiting.

But he never showed.

~

Y/N and Billy lost count of how many times Eddie didn't show up for dates. At this point, they expected it. Their relationship of three was really just a relationship between the two.

Y/N was hurt beyond anything. She felt replaced as the special girl in Eddie's life. She felt like she couldn't compare to the pretty cheerleaders Eddie was spending all his time with.

Billy was pissed. He wasn't too upset about being ditched like she was, he had his girl and he'd make the best of it. But what made him mad was watching Eddie hurt Y/N. Billy tried his best to cheer her up and distract her. But how could he make her feel better when he wasn't the one hurting her. Billy promised to kick anyone's ass that made her cry, he just never thought Eddie would become his target.

~~~

Y/N sat silent as she drove Eddie to school. He was going on and on about his new friends and all the things they did together. She could feel her heart shattering more and more. It was like he had no idea how much he'd been missing in their relationship.

~

Before Eddie could speak a word when Billy picked him up, Billy spoke first.

"Tonight you are staying home. Y/N and I are coming over because we need to talk."

Eddie felt a nervous chuckle leave his lips

"What's going on?" Eddie asked

"We'll talk when I grab her," Billy said

The car ride was silent as they pulled up to Y/N's house. She hugged herself in Billy's sweater as she walked to the car.

She slid into the backseat, a small hello from her lips.

Eddie got more nervous as no one spoke, just the radio playing.

They pulled up to the trailer and all walked inside. Billy had his arm wrapped around Y/N as he led her to the couch. Eddie stood in front of them as he looked confused.

"Okay, what's going on? You guys are freaking me out" Eddie sighed, his eyes looking between his partners.

Y/N took a deep breath, clenching Billy's hand.

"We need to talk about the way you've been treating this relationship." Her wet eyes looked up at him.

"What do you mean?" Eddie asked

"You've been ditching us for weeks because of your new friends. It's okay to branch out, but you need to put time into this relationship too." Billy said, trying to stay calm for Y/N's sake.

"Are you guys seriously jealous of this?" Eddie scoffed

"Not jealous, but Eddie you haven't spent any time with us unless it's driving you!" Billy explained

"I can admit that I'm jealous of Chrissy but more hurt that I haven't had any time with you," Y/N said, blinking away tears.

"Why would you be jealous of her?" Eddie asked, his voice was snippy and short. She could tell he was starting to get defensive.

"You're replacing me with her!" Y/N argued, standing up. Annoyed that he clearly didn't see the big picture. Billy quickly stood.

"Oh don't be dramatic. I am not" Eddie denied

"Don't call her dramatic!" Billy stepped in, starting to get angry.

"She is! I hang out with Chrissy and all of a sudden I'm a bad guy? It's jealousy, plain and simple. I'm not replacing her." Eddie fought, and the two boys were head to head. "Do you have a problem with it? Or is it her?" Eddie's head nodded towards her but his eyes stayed on Billy's glare.

"What is wrong with you? Spend a few weeks with those assholes and think you can treat our girlfriend like shit? If she feels replaced, then show her she isn't being replaced." Billy growled, his finger shoving into Eddie's chest, hard.

Eddie scoffed, "Out of everyone I thought you would understand. I'm popular, Billy! I don't have to have a target on my back or get shoved in lockers now that you two are gone. I'm standing my ground like you said!"

"Understand? I would never understand hurting Y/N the way you are. And I would never make her feel like anyone could replace her. You can stand your ground without treating us like shit, Munson." Billy said, shoving Eddie across the room.

"Okay, now. Let's just relax!" Y/N said quickly

Eddie panted hard as he charged at Billy, shoving him right back

"If you two wanna team up so damn bad, then why don't we just cut me right out." Eddie puffed

"Eddie, that's not what we are saying or what we want," Y/N said, standing in front of Billy. Her movement caused Eddie's eyes to drop down to her. His glare softened as he took in her sad face.

But he felt targeted by his own partners. He felt like he wasn't in the wrong and teaming up on him was unfair.

"We just want you back." She said softly, she reached to touch his face but he stepped back.

Y/N gulped at his reaction, nerves in her stomach.

"I think I need to think about some things," Eddie said, looking at her.

Billy sighed behind her, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Think about fucking what? Either you want us or you don't!" Billy's voice rose as he got angrier.

Y/N turned around and grabbed his hand. Billy looked down at her.

"Let's just go" she whispered, "we did all we could."

Billy could see in her eyes she had given up. She felt replaced and now she felt useless.

"Okay, we'll go," Billy said, giving her a small smile. He squeezed her hand and led them to the front door. Right as he opened it, Chrissy went to knock.

"Oh! I'm sorry. Am I interrupting?" She asked, her eyes looking from Eddie, who was running his hands over his face, to Y/N, who looked like she was going to burst into tears, and Billy, who looked as pissed as ever.

"Nah, my girl and I were just leaving," Billy said harshly as he walked past her.

Eddie bit his tongue, trying not to lash out at Billy's petty comment.

~~~

Y/N respected that Eddie needed time, so she gave him it. Billy wanted nothing more than to fight until it worked out, but he knew Y/N wouldn't like that.

It killed her to not be with him, but she was glad she had Billy during it. Someone to hold her and show her love. Billy missed him too. After the fight, he was more hurt than anything. He felt like they weren't good enough to choose. That Eddie's friends were more important.

Y/N struggled with that too. She already felt replaced by Chrissy and now she felt not good enough to fight for. She and Billy were really to forgive and forget, and Eddie still backed away.

Why weren't they good enough?

~

Eddie did what he said he would, he was thinking. But he didn't even know what he was supposed to be thinking about. He felt like he was up against a wall and needed to hit pause. His brain couldn't think straight and he didn't know what words he was supposed to say.

And with three days all alone to think, he had nothing. All he did was wonder what they were doing. Are they sad he was gone? Did they not care and go back to normal?

Then he would see Y/N's soft eyes begging him to do the right thing. And he can feel all the guilt eating him alive that he had no idea how to make her feel better. He didn't like Chrissy, and he never would. Y/N would always be the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and it would stay that way.

He didn't like that he got so mad with Billy. He didn't want to be in a relationship where it resulted in a violent fight. But Eddie felt like she was just Billy's girlfriend at that moment. He was protecting her...but from Eddie and that hurt. It was like she wasn't even his.

But he did that. He was so blinded by all the popularity and going out that he forgot about them.

~

Y/N walked into Billy's small house, sighing as she finished another work shift. It was day four without Eddie and it was taking a toll on her. She looked at the phone but knew it wouldn't ring.

She slipped off her shoes and began walking into the house. She walked to his bedroom, the door open as he sat at the edge of the bed.

"Billy?" She asked

He turned to look at her and her heart broke. She was quick to run over to him as his blue eyes were red and puffy. His cheeks were stained in tears that kept falling.

"Oh baby" she cooed, standing in between his legs as she wrapped her arms around his head. He took shelter in her stomach, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

She held him as he cried it out, her own tears starting to fall.

"It's okay to cry" she whispered

"What’s the point of trying if it just proves that I’ll never be good enough?” Billy cried out

Y/N bit her lip as she kept back a loud cry. Sniffling her emotions back she became the shoulder he needed.

She dropped to her knees, now holding his face as she looked into his eyes. She placed a soft gentle kiss on his nose.

"You are good enough, you're good enough for me." She whispered, using her thumb to wipe away his tears. "We're good enough for each other."

It was something they both needed to hear. Something they needed to begin to heal their own hearts.

"Let's go get some ice cream or something." She said, smiling as Billy nodded.

"If they don't have cookie dough I'm going to be pissed," Billy warned, but Y/N laughed. She took his hand and they both headed out to his car.

~

They arrived at the ice cream shop, hand in hand as they walked up to the counter.

Thankfully, cookie dough was available so Y/N didn't have to stop a fight from breaking out.

The couple sat in a back booth, she was tucked under his arm as she fed him spoonfuls of the ice cream.

~

Eddie walked into the small ice cream shop. Chrissy demanded he leave the house and dragged him here.

He looked at the flavors and could feel even more sadness in his heart as he saw the flavors his partners loved.

He settled for chocolate and slowly picked at the ice cream with his spoon as Chrissy led them to a table.

He knew Y/N didn't like the relationship with Chrissy, but Chrissy was all he had right now. And she was a girl and she knew how to give advice. She said she'd help him figure all of this out.

~

Y/N and Billy finished their ice cream. Both are feeling a bit better, just going out and being together. It wasn't the same without Eddie, but maybe that was what they had to get used to.

"Wanna go back to the house? I wanna sleep." Y/N yawned, Billy laughed as he ruffled her hair.

"Princess needs her nap," he threw away their cups and grabbed her hand. Helping her out of the booth as his hand slid into her back pocket.

They walked down the small shop, freezing as they spotted Eddie straight ahead...with Chrissy.

Y/N grew nervous, they needed to walk past them to get to the door.

"It'll be okay," Billy said

They started walking again, and right as they went to pass Eddie looked up.

All three froze as they stared at each other.

"Um hi," Eddie said, barely above a whisper

"Hi," Y/N greeted politely, she turned to Chrissy, "and hi to you" with a smile

"This isn't a date!" Eddie rushed out, standing up as he scrambled out of his chair. The chair scraped against the floor.

Y/N and Billy looked at each other, very unconvinced.

"Well you said you needed time, looks like you are spending it well," Billy snapped, with a smile on his face.

"I'm gonna let you guys talk," Chrissy said as she got up from her chair and left the shop.

"Can we talk?" Eddie asked, nodding to the open table

They sat down across from him

"It really isn't a date. I asked for time to think and I didn't even know what for. I just felt like I was running out of time to fix my mistake so I needed to hit pause and figure it out." Eddie explained

"I can understand that, it was a lot," Y/N said as she reached for his hand. This time he laced his hand with hers. The warm feeling of comfort flooded through his body. "But we are all in this relationship together. You could have told us you just needed a second to breathe. We would have stayed and talked it out."

"I know! I just panicked and made everything so much worse." Eddie sighed

"Then why wait that long? It's been four days, Eddie and neither of us heard anything from you. How do you think that makes us feel?" Billy asked

"Like ass? I'm sorry, incredibly sorry to both of you. I shouldn't have put you guys on the back burner just because I was getting attention elsewhere." Eddie started, his eyes moving to Y/N as he kept a grip on her hand. "And I feel like a dick for making you think Chrissy could replace you. Baby girl, no one would ever replace you. I love you so much. I'm sorry for not taking you in my arms that night and proving you have nothing to worry about."

Y/N smiled, the words were exactly what she needed to hear. "I accept your apology"

Eddie smiled and moved to Billy.

"I'm sorry I got so heated and up in your face. It just felt like Y/N was only yours. I know you were protecting her, just like I would have. But it felt like I was losing her to you. And I don't want to lose either of you. I love you and I'm sorry for hurting both of you."

Billy nodded as he talked. He understood what Eddie meant and he knew he could have reacted the same.

"I get it. It killed me to have to protect her from you. I love you and I don't want you to be the bad guy." Billy said softly, "I'm sorry for getting in your face and shoving you."

The boys smiled at each other and all was forgiven between them

"Let's go to my place? Maybe talk some more there?" Billy asked

They nodded and stood up.

~

A few hours passed and they talked everything out. They cried and laughed. But everything felt healed and Eddie was back where he belonged.

Y/N was smashed in the middle of both boys as they cuddled on the couch. Her head was on Billy's shoulder and her legs on Eddie's. Eddie's soft hands rubbed the skin as the movie played in the background.

"I missed this" Y/N said as she closed her eyes. Soaking in the feeling of being together again.

"Me too" Billy said

“I never thought I could miss someone this much," Eddie said as he looked at them.

Y/N looked over at him and sat up. She softly kissed his face.

"You don't have to miss us anymore"

[cottonlemonade]

First off CONGRATULATIONSSS omg youre stories are so good and you deserve it(btw you're request system is sooo creative I love it.)

And Can I order a cup of milk with a matcha roll off of menu A or B please? And can I sit next to bokuto!

Tutoring Him

word count: 589 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: Bokuto x implied chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: fluffy, tutoring crush Bokuto

____________________________________________

Bokuto slumped over onto the open book and groaned. He was tired of studying before it even started. Why did he have to hit the books when he could be practicing his spikes right now?

“I see you’re trying out the osmosis technique of studying?”

He shot up, a loose page from his notebook stuck to his forehead.

“Y/n-chan!”, he said in surprise.

“Akaashi-kun asked me to step in for him today. He had an errand to run.”

Bokuto made a mental note to buy his friend an armload of new manga. His chest felt all bubbly when you sat down across from him in the empty classroom.

“So.”, you began and with a cool flick of your wrist opened your textbook to a diagram of cell anatomy, “Let’s start with the basics of the cell structure. What do you know about the nucleus?”

“It’s… in the middle?”

You looked at the picture. “I mean… you’re not wrong.”, you said fairly, then moved your finger a little pointing to something else, “What about cytoplasm?”

“It’s the stuff that keeps everything in place?”

“Hm… again, not… entirely wrong, I guess, but I’m sensing a pattern.”, you laughed and the sound made Bokuto’s heart flutter.

“Alright, one more try. What about the mitochondria?”

Oh, this one he knew!

“It’s the powerhouse of the cell!”, he exclaimed excitedly but his face got a little more color when he saw your frown, “That one has to be right, though. Kuroo taught me!”

“So uhm, I don’t know who this Kuroo is but I think you should spend some time apart. At least until after the exams.” You patted his shoulder.

Next, you had him open his notes for an exercise and were impressed and terrified how he managed to even read them between all the doodles. Most revolved around volleyball of course, some were just random swirls or shapes. When he got to the pages about genetics however, he confidently turned his folder towards you so you could check if his notes were correct before starting to work but a moment later he practically threw himself over the pages to cover them.

Although, too late. You had already seen the elaborately decorated heart next to the table of Mendel’s law with yours and his name. It was even colored.

“Uhm, Bokuto-san?”

“No?”, he mumbled feebly as his hair seemed to deflate.

“Do you… are you- I mean… do you like me?”

“I wouldn’t call it like…”

“Oh?”

“More like… super crazy in love?”

“Oh!”

When he looked up and saw you blush, his confidence returned immediately.

“Do you like me, too? - Argh, I had this whole thing planned. I wanted to win the next tournament and confess to you with the medal and- but if you like me, too, please let me be your boyfriend, y/n-chan!”

You were so perplexed that the only thing you could say was, “Are you sure?”

He nodded vehemently, practically hovering out of his seat in anticipation of your reply.

“Yes, Bokuto-san, I’d love that.”

He jumped up and cheered, feeling as if he’d just won a championship. Next thing you knew he lifted you out of the chair and pulled you into a bone crushing hug, your feet dangling off the ground.

“Oh my gosh, Bokuto, put me down before you hurt yourself!”, you squeaked but he only squished you further, melting into the softness of your body. “Not yet.”, he mumbled into the crook of your neck, “I’ll be the best boyfriend, you’ll see!”

____________________________________________

a/n: and he was, in fact, the best boyfriend turned husband. I love him so much! Thank you for the cute request and your kind words 🫶🏻 I hope you enjoyed it! 🌟

[antoncyng]

౨ৎ. STORYTIME - k.sn

synopsis - you listen in when your boyfriend offers to put your daughter to sleep

genre / warning(s) - fluff, ! sunoo is not the dad !, daughter name is jieun and she’s 4 ><, ex-idol!sunoo x fem!reader, sunoo and reader have been dating for 2 and a half years

wc - 792

you sat on the couch with your boyfriend after finally putting your daughter to sleep, taking what felt like hours with how much energy she had at 11:34 pm. he just smiled at you proudly as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, rubbing your skin softly.

until your love was disturbed by tiny footsteps and a toddlers voice, you sighed knowing what would happen. small sniffles came from behind the couch, turning your head to make contact with your daughter who was standing there in her pajamas, stuffed bunny in one small hand while the other rubbed the tears in her eyes.

“i don’t like the dark.” your daughter said to you after sniffling a few more times and catching her breath. “baby, your nightlight was on. what do you mean the dark?” you responded to her, confused as you clearly remember turning it on before leaving the room.

“too dark.” all you could do was sigh and stand up, but you felt a hand grab yours. “it’s okay, you stay here. i’ll put her to bed.” sunoo said to you with a sweet smile before standing up and turning to your daughter. “how about i put you to bed tonight? how does that sound? i can read you a small story too”

you could tell your daughter really loved sunoo, especially from the bright smile that appeared on her face when your boyfriend’s offer was spoken. taking his hand in her smaller one, they waddled off to her bedroom together.

you soon followed along and put your ear to the door, while watching the small creek that was left open, you couldn’t help but get curious on how your boyfriend would put jieun to sleep.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ IN JIEUN’S ROOM

“what story do you want to read tonight bug?” sunoo asked her sweetly, helping her sit on the bed comfortable, while he sat at the end.

“can you make a story for me? i’ve read all of mine already?” she says back, pointing to the bookshelf of short books that have already been read to her multiple times.

sunoo just nods and smiles, before moving off her bed and drawing a quick picture, than coming back and sitting on her bed again. “are you ready? you have to really focus on this story, okay?” he starts, your daughter just nodding with a waited smile on her lips.

“well, once upon a time in a beautiful bunny forest, lived a pink baby bunny named.. what should we name her?” he asked jieun, trying to make the story more interactive for her.

“rachel!” she said excitingly. “okay, lets call her rachel then. one day rachel wanted to go to the playground with her friends, but her mommy made her make a promise. can you guess what that is?” sunoo read from the picture to her, getting a head shake of denial in response.

“her mommy asked her to promise to go straight to sleep when she comes home, just like your mommy tells you.” he says, tickling her stomach slightly when she gets brought up in the story, earning a giggle from your daughter. “but why does she have to sleep right away?”

“well, when you go to sleep, it gives you energy for the next day! with no sleep or even a little bit of sleep, you’ll be too tired to play the next day. do you want to miss out on a day of playing because you didn’t sleep before? you’ll be very sad, you know.” sunoo cocks an eyebrow at jieun, leaving her mouth agape and she nods her head.

“can i sleep now then? i don’t want to miss playtime tomorrow!” she says, worriedly while she pulls her blanket higher and clutches her stuffed animal in her arm, while sunoo grows a smile on his face and just nods.

“that sounds like a good idea, lets get you tucked in.” he stands up, helping jieun get comfortable in her bed before kissing her forehead, turning off the main loght and turning on her nightlight. “are you going to be here when i wake up?” jieun looks up at sunoo with puppy eyes.

“yes, i’ll be in the room with mommy. call me if you need me okay? goodnight bun, sweet dreams.” he says while brushing her hair to the side before leaving her room quietly, making eye contact with you after closing her door.

“is she sleeping?” he nods in response, wrapping his arms around your neck in a bear hug.

“lets get our own rest now, unless you need a storytime too?” sunoo chuckles with a teasing manner before walking to your bedroom together, you knew you were so in love.

[partitionis]

on the horror of fame:

something that I often find myself thinking about when I’m back in Taiwan and around people who are far richer than I’ll ever be [1] is how the day-to-day experience of being rich and powerful is actually pretty… dehumanizing

there’s a sweet spot where you’re wealthy enough that you don’t have to worry about money ever and still anonymous enough that you can pop down to the 7/11 without anyone knowing who you are, but once you’re famous enough that people on the street tend to recognize you? you’re fucked.

ok, you haven’t driven a car in a few decades because you’ve been rich enough to employ a driver and someone of your status isn’t really the type to drive themselves around. this is fine. except now your driver knows all of your business. that’s also fine, you pay him for his discretion. do you pay him enough? can you be sure that his institutional loyalty is enough to stop him from taking a tabloid payment? maybe you want to go somewhere spur of the moment. you could call your driver, and he’d drop whatever he was doing and be at your house to get you within fifteen minutes [2], but you know, maybe he’s with his kids or something. you could take the subway, except if you do that multiple people will recognize you and everyone will treat you like you have some sort of infectious disease [3]. guess you’d better stay in.

and every moment of every day is like this! being a famous man is great because women want to have sex with you and men want to be you. except mostly what everyone wants is access to the wealth and power you represent: people tell you half-truths to try to convince you to invest in some bullshit or they put their hands dangerously close to your penis in public social situations [4]. you— the person you actually are— are mostly treated like an obstacle to be overcome or a puzzle to be figured out. ‘what kind of currency do I need to put in to the old man to get what I want out of him’

so you have all of the things people want, but they’re poisoned by abundance. you can go anywhere and buy anything, but you can’t do it without feeling the eyes of the world on you. you have more friends and potential lovers than you know what to do with, but do you? one of the great privileges of being a regular person [5] is that you can generally trust that social gestures are genuine. I’m just a regular guy and the only benefit anyone gets from throwing me a birthday party or having sex with me is that we ate birthday cake or had sex. none of these things will unlock access to money or power because I’ve got none to give, but once you do, you invariably attract these people. they’re not all of your social circle, but they’re a lot of it, because competing for your limited time and attention with the people who are willing to grope you in public feels vaguely debasing

no wonder musicians are alcoholics! no wonder the people I know are all withdrawn and snappish. you’re just some guy, and you’re living a life so divorced from the rest of the world that you have more in common with the god-kings of old than you do with your own parents. is it worth it? I mean I won’t lie, sometimes it’s pretty sick; I’d never buy a $5,000 watch, but I can pretty easily imagine what I’d do with thousands of dollars of pocket change. but then I remember that one person I know refuses to tell anyone when his birthday is because people make such a big fucking deal out of it and I think, hm, if that were me I’d probably develop a heroin addiction [6].

[1] presumably

[2] let’s not consider how much it sucks to be the driver in this situation

[3] you are not the good kind of famous in this story, sorry.

[4] I’m sure this was titillating at one point but I’m also pretty sure it got old by the third decade, never mind what it’s like in the fifth

[5] unless you’re an Olive Garden manager who posts a lot about fake friends and backstabbers on Facebook or wherever the beleaguered Olive Garden managers of the world are posting today

[6] at least I’d be able to pay for it

[wuishu]

Hamzah the fantastic yapping about his girlfriend: compilation

Not a lot of people know about Hamzah’s relationship, but once he has a chance to talk about you, he will not shy away from talking about you. Fans could not help but make videos of them as tiktok clips or compilation videos on youtube.

There is no denying that he is head over heels for you, but some moments top others. The most popular one was a YouTube compilation named “Hamzah Being in Love: compilation”

The first clip was in an OOC podcast, where they talk about the most efficient thing: buying food outside or cooking food at home.

“No, 'cause my girlfriend always cooks food for us,” Hamzah says, as he's holding his mic, and Martin nods “I guess cooking food is good.”

“Of course, when you have a great cook at home.”

Martin smiles as he can see Hamzah being passionate about this topic, “I’ll give you and Mandy some of Y/n amazing cooking. If there's any left, though.”

“Cause sometimes I just finish them all,” he replied, “One of the best foods I've eaten was made by Y/n, God, now I'm missing her cooking.”

“I miss you, babe,” he said, looking at the camera as Martin laughed, folding like a plastic chair. Hamzah smiling.

The second clip was of Fortnite gameplay in the slushy noobz youtube channel. They were playing the game, and when Hamzah could hear the door slowly swing open, his gaze was on the door. He sees his girlfriend slowly trying to find something.

He could hear Martin trying to get a backup while he gets tag teamed, “Hi, what are you trying to find?” Hamzah said, as his Fortnite character was on all fours, leaving Martin defending himself

“Dude?!”

“I got it.” Your voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough to pick up from the mic, “Okay, I love you,” Hamzah said, Martin clutched the three v one fight, and he sighed loudly, snapping Hamzah out of his long stare

“Dude, what happened?” he said. Martin's face turned sour as he scratched his head, indicating he was irritated. “You are what happened.”

The next one was one of Hamzah’s old livestreams, where he was just talking to his chat, trying to pass the time. He got a donation asking what he would do this weekend

“Ahh, well, I'm gonna hang out with my girlfriend since she will be coming back to her hometown. Might as well show her around until she has to leave.” people are curious, asking if they can see her.

He wasn't hesitant and called you on the phone, “baby, people want to see you; can you come here?” and without a minute, you can see his girlfriend popping, waving to chat as a greeting

You can see the messages scrolling quickly as they compliment you. You smiled, “There she is, my beautiful other half.”

The next clip shown was Martin and Hamzah playing FNAF, It was getting dark, and they didn't know how many hours they wasted while they played the game.

Hamzah showed his phone to show what time it was, and his wallpaper was you standing up, flash on while you were holding his hand, “It’s 9:45, I'm getting sick of this game”

Martin nodded but continued to control and run. “If they keep doing this to us, then… developers. Get ready for my fist.”

He sighed as he shifted in his seat to get comfortable. He kissed his phone screen as Martin looked at his antics and asked, “What was that?”

“Missing her right now-” and suddenly got jump scared by Monty; they jumped out of their seats. They nervously laugh.

The video transitioned to another OOC podcast clip, but instead of just Martin and Hamzah, you and Mandy were in it. You were sitting next to Hamzah, and Mandy was sitting next to Martin, so they were still in the frame. Since they didn't expect you to join them, you shared the microphone with Hamzah.

The four were talking about who always wakes up early in the morning and how late one wakes up. “Sometimes I wake her up since she works at dentistry so she gotta be extra early, and I cook her food because she always says she doesn't like the food near their clinic.”

He handed the microphone to you and said, “Yeah, 'cause the food there just doesn't hit right like you're cooking.”

“You like my cooking?” he curiously said, as you nodded and got the microphone, “Of course, I especially like the notes you put on my lunchbox. Always a cliché quote like ‘love you to the moon and back’ or ‘I think you're tooth cute’ and it's so cute.”

He grinned and looked at you. “Glad you like them.”

“Isn't it funny how both of our girlfriends are health professionals, while we are… just influencers?” Martin said as he was racking his brain up.

The last clip was another bake-off, and you finally cave into their pleas to be there, and for the first time, the place they use is in Hamzah's kitchen.

The measuring cup and ingredients were on the island table, big bowls were laid as they were mixing their batter, and you pre-heated the oven.

“You don't have to over-mix it, Martin. Now you won't have stiff peaks!” you said as you looked at Martin’s bowl. He was making meringue for his spin-off lemon meringue pie but instead of lemon, it was a simple blueberry pie with meringue.

“I’m sorry! I did not know!” He said as he raised both his hands like he was at gunpoint. Hamzah noticed your face was sweating, and your hair was sticking to it. He grabbed a piece of tissue paper and wiped your face while you were talking to Martin.

“Yeah, I need that cinnamon.” You knead your dough for the cinnamon rolls you were going to make. Hamzah decided to pull you away from the table so that he could tie your hair.

“Hold still,” you said, lowering a bit so he could tie your hair properly. “Thank you, babe”

You kissed his cheek, leaving your preferred glossy lip tint print on his face. He smiled like he had won the lottery. “You're welcome!”

“Now I feel like I'm the third wheel right now, jeez,” Martin pipped, as you smiled and continued to knead the dough. “You do this all the time, Hamzah?”

“Yeah, when we do it in the back-” the clip cut off, and they continued to do what they were doing. Let's just say that Hamzah did not wipe his face for the entire video.

(I'M BACK! I love Hamzah sm, and I'd totally do a part two of this if ya'll guys want!!)

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana Part 10

The last chapter my lovelies! It has been a long road to get here, but we made it. Thank you to everyone who comment, liked, or reblogged. I read and appreciate each one.

Chrissy and Robin get their wedding and Steve and Eddie get their happily ever after.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

****

Eddie, Steve, and Robin waited at the airport, just outside of security waiting for Chrissy’s plane to land.

“This is ridiculous,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms and looking down at her feet. “I hope you know that.”

Eddie and Steve just grinned at each other.

She rolled her eyes. “I forgot how disgusting you two could be when you got together.”

“That’s homophobic,” Steve said with a sneer.

Robin sputtered and flailed her arms about. “What! I can’t be homophobic! I’m a lesbian!”

“No, no,” Eddie said tapping his lips thoughtfully, “he’s right. That was homophobic!”

Robin, who had been expecting Eddie to agree with her, started sputtering again. But before she could really lay into him, he started jumping up and down.

“Chrissy!” he called out, waving his hand high in the air. “Over here!”

Robin froze and gulped loudly next to him. “Um...I’mma faint now, okay?”

Steve poked her in the ribs. “No fainting and absolutely no dying.”

She jumped away from his finger with a shriek as Chrissy reached them. Chrissy gave Eddie a kiss on the cheek.

“I missed you,” she murmured as Eddie picked her up and swung her around.

“I missed you, too, Chrissy poo!” he replied planting a large, messy, wet kiss on her cheek. “This is the indomitable Robin Buckley and the ever perfect Steve Harrington.”

“You make me sound like a cartoon dog!” Robin protested.

Chrissy raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know I always thought Jenna was pretty smokin’ for a dog.”

Robin’s jaw dropped and her eyes went wide. She turned to Eddie slowly, like a creepy doll in a horror movie.

“Shit, she’s perfect.”

Chrissy and Steve laughed as Robin dug out ten dollars from her pocket and slammed it in Eddie’s hand.

“I told you not to bet against him, Bobbie,” Steve cackled. “Anyone worth Eddie faking straight for would have to have our sense of humor.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You just want them to hurry and break up so you can make out with your husband again.”

Eddie and Chrissy turned to look at Steve who had not refuted said claim, but instead was a very dark shade of red and refusing to look anyone in the eye.

Chrissy decided to take pity on the poor guy and ask, “What’s the news on Gareth?”

“Gareth will be getting into town on Wednesday and can only take a few days off before he has to go back. He has a huge meeting with some investors wanting a stake in his vineyard.”

“How the hell Gareth became the rich snob, I’ll never guess,” she replied, shaking her head.

“So we’ll have the wedding on Saturday,” Robin said, quickly interrupting before they went down a rabbit hole neither she nor Steve could dig them out of. “I understand you brought your wedding dress.”

Chrissy held up the large white garment bag and unzipped it. “It’s black!” she said cheerfully.

Robin’s eyes went wide again. “I’m in love with you.”

Steve bumped her with his hip with a wide grin. “She always wanted to wear a white tux to her wedding.”

Chrissy’s eyes went wide with amazement. “That’ll be perfect! Me in a black wedding dress, the other bride in a white tux, we’d look fantastic!”

“We’ve got a photographer already lined up,” Eddie said brightly. “And Stevie is making the cake.”

“Now all we need is place to have it,” Robin agreed.

“Oh, I’ve got just the place,” Eddie said grinning from ear to ear.

****

The place turned out to be Jeff’s parents’ backyard where they had just had their fiftieth wedding anniversary. It was beautiful garden with a little brook and a gazebo in the middle. Chrissy fell in love with it immediately.

While Chrissy was talking to Mrs. Sinclair about the floral arrangements, Wayne came up to Eddie and clapped his hand on his shoulder.

“See?” he said with a grin. “There’s the sparkle I was talking about.”

Eddie, who had been writing down all the things they would need on Saturday, snapped his head up.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he huffed, crossly.

Wayne sat down next to him and leaned on the table. “Boy, you haven’t stopped smiling since you announced your fianceé was marrying someone else.”

Eddie blushed and ducked his head. “You make it sound so tawdry. I told you why I was gonna be the one to do it.”

Wayne nodded solemnly. “And I’m proud of you for wanting to do the right thing, but the right thing wouldn’t have made you happy.”

Eddie lifted his head to see where Steve was talking to Jeff and his mom about where the cake should go and soft, fond smile crept over his features.

“And there it is,” Wayne muttered. “The smile I haven’t seen in over a decade. The ‘I am hopelessly in love’ smile.”

Eddie’s cheeks darkened further. “Hopefully in love. Hopefully in love, Uncle Wayne.”

Wayne patted him on his shoulder and nodded. He couldn’t help but agree.

The whole town was coming together to get this wedding off the ground, Claudia Henderson was doing the food, Sue Sinclair was doing the flowers, Jonathan was doing the photography, Steve was making the cake, and of course Kendra and Dwayne Laurence were hosting the event.

Karen Wheeler had even offered to do Chrissy’s hair and makeup for the day.

Eddie was loving every moment. Especially getting to watch Steve in his element. He couldn’t wait until Saturday.

****

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear, not cloud to be seen at all. It was like even Mother Nature herself was blessing their day.

Everyone had gathered, but there was huge swath of seats unfilled.

Steve frowned. “Eddie why are there so many seats on Robin’s side? Only her parents and a couple of her community college friends were coming.”

Eddie smiled sweetly at him. “Just trust me, okay, sugar?”

Steve bit his lip, but nodded tersely.

Eddie cupped his cheek and leaned down to look him in the eye. “Hey, hey, baby. It’s okay if you don’t trust me yet. I’ve got the rest of my life to prove I’m not gonna do a runner again.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath and then another.

“You promise it’s going to be okay?” he whispered, tears appearing at the corner of his eyes.

“As much as I can without factoring in that there are a lot of things outside of my control today,” he whispered back.

Steve nodded as Eddie wiped away his tears. “Now let’s get you all prettied up so you look perfect for the photos.”

Steve let out a water chuckle. “I can’t believe I was talked into this suit.”

He was in a clean, white suit to match Robin’s tux with a black dress shirt and white neck tie. Eddie was smartly dressed in white button up that was unbuttoned to the bottom of his ribs with a black leather jacket over that and clean black tuxedo pants and leather boots.

“You look so pretty, baby,” Eddie murmured back. “No offense to Chrissy, but you take the cake.” He stopped for a moment. “Please don’t take the cake. I just realized that that is a very real thing you can do. Please don’t. Chrissy would kill me.”

Steve burst out laughing. “I have no intentions of taking their cake. It’s fondant.”

Eddie grinned right back. It was almond paste fondant which meant it didn’t taste like chalk, but it was still something Steve the beautiful bitch he was would turn his nose up at.

“God, I love you,” he whispered, pulling Steve in for a kiss.

Steve smiled back. “I love you, too.”

****

They all walked down the aisle to stand in front of Jim Hopper, who was officiating as a justice of the peace. But before he could greet the attending guests, the doors to the house burst open.

Dustin, Max, Elle, Lucas, Will, Mike, and Erica with their families and plus ones came piling through muttering apologies for being late.

But judging from Jim’s grin, their lateness was planned. Steve looked over at Eddie who had an even bigger grin on his face.

Elle handed Eddie a microphone and went to sit down between Joyce and Will.

“Hello, everyone!” he greeted the crowd. “Don’t worry, I have full permission from the brides to do this, in fact it was Robin’s idea to begin with, so if this goes south, we’re blaming her!”

“Hey!” Robin protested hotly.

“So for those that don’t know,” Eddie continued, ignoring her completely, “Steve and I ran off to get married when Massachusetts made gay marriage legal. Then we did what stupid kids do when they don’t realize how good they have it and threw it all away. Then I met Chrissy and she is the most wonderful woman who needed a friend and someone to rely on. We thought it was me; turns out lesbians move fast.” He winked at Robin who took Chrissy’s hands with a laugh.

“But long before all this,” he said, his voice breaking from the emotion, “there were two boys with dreams. I got to live mine. I traveled the world, I got to play stadiums. I have actual fans. But that was never Steve’s dream.” Steve let out a watery chuckle as Dustin hugged him tight from behind. Steve reached up to hold Dustin’s wrist and give it a squeeze.

“His dream was a garden wedding surrounded by all his friends and loved ones, pledging himself to the man he loved,” Eddie croaked. “I told Steve last week—” he let out a breathless laugh. “God, was that really last week? It feels like such a life time ago. Shit. Anyway. I told Steve that I once thought that the man on the other side of the aisle would be me, but that I didn’t it see that way anymore.”

The audience let out a long “Awwww.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie said coming over to take Steve’s hand, “that was the biggest lie I’ve ever told and I’ve told some whoppers in my life, just ask Wayne. But I’ve always wanted it to be me. Your dream became mine and I had to see it through.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed.

“So in addition to wedding these two lovely ladies,” he concluded, “we are also having a renewal of vows between Edward Munson and Steve Harrington Munson today, as well.” He brought Steve’s knuckles to his lips. “If that’s okay with you, Stevie?”

Steve nodded. “Of course it is! I can’t believe you guys did all this without me knowing. I love you all so much.”

A cheer went up.

Chrissy and Robin got married first and then they moved to stand next to Eddie and Steve as their best matrons.

“You deliberately kept this from so I wouldn’t write the sappiest speech, didn’t you?” Steve accused as Eddie took his hands.

“You caught me.”

Steve kissed his hands.

“Eddie,” he began. “Though the path to happiness was rough and long, there is no one I would rather spend the rest of my life with. We’ve already had the hard times and things can only get better from here. I’ve loved you through you chasing your dreams and learning to live mine. I didn’t realize I had lived life half asleep until you came back into town demanding a divorce. Which you still won’t get from me.”

The attending guests laughed.

“I burned the papers, babe,” Eddie replied. “No takes backsies!”

“Then I promise to love you for the rest of my days,” Steve finished, he pulled a ring out of his pocket. “I carry this around for good luck, I never thought I’d see the day where it would bring you back to me, too.” He slipped on Eddie’s finger as if it had been made for it.

Which it was. It was Eddie’s old wedding band, the one Steve had had specially made for them after the got back to Hawkins.

“My darts and my ring?” Eddie said with a chuckle. “You ole romantic, you.”

Steve just smiled warmly at him.

“Stevie,” Eddie said after taking a deep breath. “When I first came to town, everyone kept telling me I’d lost my sparkle. My joy in living. Even growing up in the harshest of homes until I landed with Uncle Wayne, I kept my sunny disposition. Even when people would mock me and call me freak, I leaned into it and made it a part of me. But since leaving Hawkins for fame and fortune, I lost that. I thought it was because my dream ended earlier than I wanted. But that wasn’t it.”

He choked back tears. “I’ve been talking to my friends, my brothers, my bandmates, since I started planning this wedding between Chrissy and Robin and I realized that it wasn’t just the touring and recording and all the shit that went with fame that caused the band to break up, it was my anger at losing you so easily. At not being able to have both and in the end it just became too much for the rest of the band to bear.”

“I’m not blaming them, or Steve for the record,” he told the crowd, holding up his hand. “And they’re aren’t blaming me either. It’s just the way the cookie crumbled and now, I’m standing here across from this beautiful man who was once my beautiful boy and realizing that this is my dream now. Him and him alone. I love you so much, sweetheart. I promise the only running I’ll do, is back to you.”

Then they leaned forward sealed their renewed vows to each other with a kiss.

****

Six months later:

Eddie stumbled forward with Steve pressed against his back, his hands over Eddie’s eyes as they waddled forward together.

“Why couldn’t we just have used my bandana?” Eddie groused, not for the first time.

“Because this is more fun for me,” Steve teased. “Now, shush and open your eyes.” He let go of him and stepped back.

They were standing in front of the building right next to the bakery that had been rundown and in disrepair for years. But now it was cleaned up with a metal aesthetic and big red neon sign that said “Hellfire Ink” in cursive font.

Eddie gasped out loud and covered his mouth with hands. He turned around to face Steve. “You can’t do this, honey. You should put the money back into the bakery.”

Steve shook his head. “No, baby. This was always the plan, you just sped it up a bit. I was building this for you to come home to. I thought that if I could just show you that you could tattoo and live in Hawkins, that you might want to come home to me.”

Eddie threw his arms around Steve’s neck and kissed all over his face. “I love you so much, sweetheart. More than anything, but this is too much.”

“Too late,” Steve said with a smile and held up the keys to the shop. “Come on, let me show you everything.”

Eddie grabbed the keys and Steve grabbed his hand to lead him to their future.

It was better than any dream teenage Eddie had ever hoped to have and if Eddie could go back in time and meet that stupid teenager, he’d tell him to not lose hope, even on the darkest nights, because at the end would bring his brightest days.

“Just wait until you see the inside!” Steve was saying and Eddie just smiled back.

Yeah, he could have wings and roots, too. Because this fit, too.

****

One thing that totally happened but didn't make it into the story was that Joyce and Claudia got together and made Steve his own cake with everything he wanted in a cake. It was much smaller than Robin and Chrissy's, more like a groom's cake, but it had Eddie and Steve figures on top.

Tag List: COMPLETE

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @ravenfrog @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @mac-attack19

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95

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8- @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steddie-as-they-go @captain--low @micheledawn1975 @thespaceantwhowrites

9- @blondie1006 @stripey82 @w1ll0wtr33 @mcenziehughes @sadisticaltarts

[imweirdimjazzy]

The Ol’ Typewriter

Pairing: Human!Alastor x Female!Reader

Description: Books and storytelling under the rain with your mischievous old friend Alastor, who couldn’t help but gave advice for such writing in your book.

Warnings: mentions of murder

Word count: 2515

A/N: hello! Yet again with Human Alastor one. Can’t help it I guess. Remember most of this isn’t canon to actual show and even mention of his age. I wrote this when it was raining a lot and I thought of an idea. And here we are, enjoy it! :)

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Droplets of water slip out of Alastor's red umbrella. As he stood there on the corner of a street in New Orleans. The past few days only gloom over the city and anytime by now it was gonna be raining.

And for today it had the whole sky pouring.

Alastor cleaned his glasses with his sleeve. Rubbing off any droplets that had fallen or gotten there before he had popped open the umbrella. While he hummed a tune that was stuck in his head.

Placing his glasses back onto himself he made sure that his vest and button up had nothing smeared or messed up. With one hand in his pocket and the other of the umbrella.

Coming from around the corner and my heels clicking on the concrete sidewalk, I bump into the view of him and become smitten immediately.

“Alastor, I didn’t expect you to wait here for me.”

Catching a hearing of my voice, he turned to face me. Smiling and getting under some sort of roof of the small shop that I stood under.

“Well, how could I not be with a lovely lady such as yourself?” Alastor chuckled and almost closed the umbrella until I stopped him.

“You and your compliments,” I snickered under my breath. “Come on, keep the umbrella up. I wanna take a small walk with you.”

It caused Alastor to smile and looked at me curiously.

“Alright. Sounds fine to me, dear.”

Alastor popped the umbrella open and I carefully went under as he looked down to me to make sure I didn’t get wet. “Where would you like to go?” He asked.

“I’m not sure. I wanted to walk out since it was raining. It’s really nice the way the rain smells and how fresh cold hits you.”

Taking a few small steps on the sidewalk, I poke my hand to let the droplets of rain slip through my fingers.

Alastor kept up with my pace and only smiled. As he started to enjoy the quiet rain hitting the street, the soft taps fell against the umbrella with us under it.

“Ah, yes, isn’t it lovely?”

“Very much lovely,” I grinned. “Anything new in your radio show?”

Alastor hummed quietly as he thought about his day. “Nothing too notable has happened. Of course, I had to deal with some pesters calling in ungodly hours. People being too desperate for my attention as per usual.”

I chuckled and shook my head.

“People in this city can’t get enough of you, Alastor. Look at you though. You made quite a lot of progress. From being in a little house and unstable microphone, to now a full studio with jazz bands coming on to your show. I say you've been doing good.”

Alastor only laughed it off while looking away to the side.

“Ah it’s been quite a wild ride, dear. What can I say, I’m simply unforgettable!” He exclaimed. “Oh, there is something I wanted to mention.”

“Mmh? What is it?”

“It’s a surprise. You’ll find out later darling.” Alastor only smile widely, looking at the rain fall. “But I promise, it’s something you’ll like a lot.”

“I hate suprises you know that,” I mentioned with tinge of embarrassment.

“I’m aware of that, my dear.” He playfully snickered as he placed a hand on my shoulder and pulling me in jokingly. “Which is what makes it all the more fun.”

“Of course you find it that quite enjoyable,” I laughed and unconsciously lean closer for support of warmth.

Alastor notice and made sure an arm was wrapped around me. Pulling close and holding me against his side. “Of course I do! Your reactions are priceless when it happens. Even if you dont like it.”

“Yeah I suppose I’ll mention that when they inerview me in future of how Alastor was in real life—and I’ll just tell them that you were such a rude old cruel man who love to torture his poor friend with such kind of suprises.”

It spurred a cackle out of Alastor the way he found amusement what I was saying, but I suppose it was always like that with him. He always found my words and way of speaking amusing.

Alastor placed a hand on his chest pretending to be offended with the slight tease I had pushed on him. “Me? Rude and cruel? I have no idea what you’re speaking of,” he said. “And old?”

Making a tsk sound and shaking my head, I playfully replied back.

“Yup, you’re an old man stuck in a young body.”

He looked down to me as he flicked my forehead. Making me hiss out of pain and rub my forehead. The devilish grin had sneak into Alastor lips as he saw me slightly in pain. “And how exactly how old is old darling?l

Glaring at him for a second—until recovering with a small smirk.

“I say about…twenty-six. Oh wait—you’re twenty-six!”

He raised an eyebrow when I spoke out his age. Stick with the same grin. “Yes yes, laugh it up. I’m twenty-six. I know that,” Alastor mocked.

We continue to bicker along the way of the sidewalk. As slight splashes hit the curbs from oncoming cars or carriages being sent around on the road. Turning around the corner, I had recongize the small book store in middle of the shops surrounded in downtown of the city.

The bell rang as both costumers left the shop with books in hand ready to be read. Sending me into small frenzy with the pages left untyped from my old janky typewriter I’ve had since when I was twelve. Being stolen of course, no one in my family or me could’ve afford any kind like that.

I had frown a little knowing there was book at home that I couldn’t find any way to finish it.

A kind of problem I had never thought I would bump myself into. Especially since writing is the only thing I’ve been able to do for who knows how long

The two customers had passed us just as we about to reach the display window of the bookstore. Peering inside and observing the shelves filled with copies of books.

Alastor did the same but noticing the frown off from the reflection of the display window. Tilting his head and reading my face carefully.

“What’s with the frown, darling?” He questioned with a smile.

“Oh nothing.”

Alastor slightly dropped his around me and had now fully face me with another raise eyebrow.

“Don’t lie to me, dear,” He spoke. “I know there’s something on your mind.”

For a small moment I only look at him until facing away. My eyes landed back to the sidewalk ahead of us. Taking a small steps with Alastor leaning the umbrella over to me, making sure water wouldn’t get on me.

“You know how I mention I’n writing that book?” I muttered.

Alastor glance back to the display window but continue to walk the same pace I was on. “Mhm. I remember you mentioning that. How is it going? Any thrilling plot points?”

I chuckle a little but fell gently as I bit my tongue.

“Um well—well I hoped it had going better to say the least,” I sighed. “I have written so much so far but I can’t be able to finish the ending of the book.”

“Oh? What’s the problem then?” Alastor asked with smirk. “A small writers block?”

“I suppose so, yes, but it’s really what I think is the best for the characters in the ending of my book.”

He hummed almost excitedly and lean onto me while walking. “Ah, so which one is it? The man character gets a happy ending, or everyone dies sort of ending?”

“Well—well it just…the main character doesn’t exactly make the best decisions ever since meeting this man who has twisted her life up in flames. She walked through so much pain and suffering to be able to be with him. Even how dangerous and wicked he is. I thought—I thought well, maybe, she deserves this ending. A happy ending where she’s able to get what she wants, but it doesn’t seem right.”

The street had grown cold and quiet the longer Alastor had listen to me. Keeping in his thoughts as he processed the bit of plot point I had given him straight from the story. Also, smiling at the small analogy of a man twisting her life up in flames.

“Hm…I see your dilemma,” He said. “Now, let me ask you a question, dear.”

Glancing back to Alastor I had grin a little. “And what’s that?”

“Well, it depends on a couple of things. In this book,” He began, “How wicked is this man, exactly?”

“He’s…evil to say the least. He’s killed many, many people,” I cringe with breath under my voice.

A sly smile had stay still on his face while he moved his free hand poking my shoulder. “And this girl, what is she like?”

“She’s…she’s a bit harder to describe.”

“C’mon dear, surely you have some sort of an idea,” Alastor teased out of entertainment.

“I do, she’s just intelligent. On what she does and on what she sets her mind onto. She’s very funny as well and can be quite sarcastic at times, but before meeting this man, she’s unsure what her future would turn out to be. Once meeting him, all she wants is the mere satisfaction of just wanting to love him.”

Imagining in my head with two characters in mind and just falling into the plot line that I had started a few years ago. With Alastor’s chuckle breaking my thoughts and humming a little tune.

“So the poor darling has fallen in love with a wicked man. How cliche.”

“Oh shut up,” I scoffed. “I thought you were helping me not making fun of it.”

“I’m just teasing, you know that. Besides I am still very much helping,” Alastor replied.

Rolling my eyes away, we stayed quiet for a moment. Until I broke it with a thought that had continued to grow in my mind.

“You know,” I started, “Even though he is wicked, he knows he loves her. Maybe not in a way people would consider love but he does. And maybe he doesn’t know that himself. The wicked man sure has faults and tendencies that fall short but I do have to say he’s loyal.”

“I suppose love makes people do things they normally wouldn’t, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose…but that doesn’t give me enough of an idea on what kind of ending to give them.”

“Hm…let me ask you another question my dear.”

I looked at him and nodded for him to go ahead.

“Do you believe that love and loyalty can withstand even the most difficult and dire of circumstances?”

“I would say yes but…I don’t know. Love can only do so much. But maybe it can chance a whole narrative on what you intended to be.”

The sentence made Alastor jump a little with a smile. Almost intrigue. “I see. That is an interesting way of thinking about it. May I ask another question.

“Go ahead,” I grinned.

“Is this story based off of any experiences you may have had?”

The question made had almost hit a near pole on the street and look at bewilder. “No. Why would you say that?”

Alastor only smile wider. Catching on how quick it had distracted me. “Well, you seem awfully invested in this character. I’m just curious if they reflect a piece of you darling.”

My eyes had looked away and stare at my feet below me. Stepping on some small puddles.

“I could’ve, possibly. Maybe putting something that’s related to me. I just would've not know what I could had possibly put in it.

“Ah, perhaps you may not think you put anything into, but everyone leaves a piece of themselves in their writing.”

There was no response out of me.

We had stopped at a corner. Waiting to cross while vehicles had enough support of engine to pass. Both of us staring at the cloudy view of the city and how the rain had sparkles the shine of street lamps and dirty roads

The rain and road. Every small sense that had kind to just send a comfortable feeling, cradling in your chest.

“How would you end it? If you were the writer?” I broke the silence.

Following closely to my gaze, taking in the smell of rain—Alastor return his look at me.

“Well, if I was the writer, I wouldn’t quite give them a happy ending, or even a happy middle. I would make it bittersweet.”

“Bittersweet?”

Alastor chuckle, only this time much more gentle and hold my gaze.

“Mhm. Bittersweet,” He repeated. “You see, dear, if it was my story, I would give them a mix between happiness and sadness. They may get what they want, but at a very steep price. They may find their happiness, but it comes with a cost.”

I nodded slowly and spoke, “So, would you let them be together?”

On the inner corners of his lips I caught it twitch a little. Turning upwards and tilting his head continue to give me such a look I would never guess something on Alastor’s face.

“I suppose I, in my twisted way of storytelling, would allow them to remain together,” He let out soft chuckle.

It had made me chuckle along with him and shake my head. “Even how murderous the relationship get and how many crimes will be comitted?” I asked.

“Yes, even with the murderous tendencies and the countless crimes they may commit. They would remain togther because, in my mind dear, true love can withstand even the most twisted and darkest of relationships.”

Standing there, I had somehow smile like a fool. I didn’t count how long I stared at him like that, but grabbing his arm and hooking mine around his, I just knew.

“Didn’t expect you to be the type to be romantic kind? Maybe you could help me more with the story.”

It cause him to laugh and shut his eyes to let it all run out. Squeezing my arm and leaving a smile remain on my face.

“Me? Romantic? Who would’ve thought?” Alastor tease, his tone holding a hint of sarcasm. “How’s that old typewriter by the way?”

I groaned and blew a piece of my hair out of my face. “Janky, old and winding down—but I can handle it for another two years.”

“Why are you asking?” I added.

Alastor shook his head and smile. “Just merely asking dear. C’mon there’s cafe I wanna show you.”

Be able to cross the street, Alastor and I walk down with much more to talk about.

My mind all over the book I was writing and telling him the wandering ideas roaming inside of my head. Not being able to contain them any longer and only being able to tell him.

While Alastor listens and watches me.

Picturing the brand new black typewriter wrapped in a bow in the back of his automobile.

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

I’m in shock as they announce the winners of the hack-a-thon.

I entered a couple years ago and didn’t do very well, but I’ve learned a lot since then, so I entered again this year out of curiosity, just to see how far I’d come. When I saw my score was significantly higher than before, I was satisfied and likely would have left before the winners were announced if I wasn’t waiting for Asher to finish in the gaming competition.

I stand with the small crowd of people that have gathered to watch the competitors as they jump and duck and throw virtual blocks, and I allow myself the opportunity to observe him. His expression focused. His movements quick and precise. I become so mesmerized that when my name is called out, I nearly jump, forgetting for a moment where I am. I look up at the screen to see the words “First Place: Atlas Stephens” and glance around for a while before realizing there isn’t some stranger who coincidentally shares my name, I won.  

At the information desk, a bored teenager requests my ID and then returns it with a lackluster, “Congratulations,” and a slip of paper containing the details of where to pick up my prize.

I start making my way in that direction when Asher hops in front of me, “There you are!”

“Hey, how’d it go?”

“I got second place.”

“That’s great!”

“No,” he insists, “no, it’s terrible.”

“Terrible? Oh my god, you’re as bad as Lex.”

“Take that back. No one is as bad as Lex.”

I side-eye him incredulously, “Really? And yet you’re complaining about second place.”

“No, see, here’s the difference between me and Lex. If I had gotten, like, tenth place, I’d’ve been just fine.”

“I don’t get it.”

“If I come in tenth, then I know I didn’t stand a chance and I can let it go. But second? Now I’m going to spend the next twenty-four hours analyzing everything I did wrong or could’ve done better because any one of those things could’ve made the difference and gotten me first.”

“I see.”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

I shrug at him, “I guess I’ve just never been that competitive.”

“Interesting,” his tone is mildly sarcastic as if he doesn’t quite believe me but isn’t going to question me either, “How’d the hack-a-thon go then?”

“It was good,” I tell him as I fold the slip of paper into my back pocket.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re not going to tell me you won?”

I let out a nervous laugh, “I didn’t want to rub it in while you were pouting over getting second.”

“A: I wasn’t pouting. B: I am perfectly capable of being happy for you and feeling sorry for myself at the same time. I’m quite talented.”

“Right, I’ll keep that in mind in the future.”

“Good. So, what did you win?”

“A computer, apparently. Some fancy model called 'The Immersive Bend' or something."

His eyes widen in surprise, “No shit? I should’ve been a programmer. I’ve been needing a new computer forever, but they’re so fucking expensive I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“Do you want it?”

“What? No, that’s not what I was saying.”

“I know. But do you want it?”

“No. It’s yours. You earned it.”

“I don’t need it. I love my computer, I built it myself, I don’t need another one. I only entered to see how I’d do, I didn’t care about the prize. I was honestly debating about not even picking it up, but if you can get some use out of it, then let’s go get it.”

“You’re serious?” He asks before letting out a groan, “I don’t know.”

“Tell you what, then, I’m going to pick it up and take it to your apartment and leave it there. You can do it with it what you want. Sell it, use it as a footrest, or hook it up and enjoy it.”

He finally cracks a smile, “Oh, so, you’re inviting yourself to my apartment now? Y’know, if you want to hang out with me, all you have to do is ask. You don’t have to bribe me.”

I don’t know what it is about the way he’s looking at me that makes me feel so bold, but the words come out of my mouth before I can even attempt to hold them in, “Do you want to go back to your place and hang out for a bit?”

“Yeah. I do.” His response is quick and definitive, like he didn’t even have to think about it, making it difficult for me to hide the smile that is stretching itself across my face.

“Okay, well, we should stop and pick this thing up first because I’m still leaving it at your apartment.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

Prev // Next

[beemochi-art]

I really like how you draw Jawbreaker...so much that i might wanna fuck him.

Ok yah sure! You should go fuck yourself first.

let me make one thing very fucking clear to you. I don’t fuck with that pedo shit you are on. Pro shipping I don’t know where in your little mold covered tard brain you thought it was ok to put this on that my page if it’s a safe place for you to get comfortable, but it’s not. As if I’d be like no sis that’s too crazy you can’t say that hehe. But no not me I’m going tell you how it is.

I fucking hate pedo lolicon whatever the fuck you call yourself. I genuinely wish the worst things for you. Probably gonna be yapping about it’s just a cartoon. Stfu.

I’m gonna assume you were one of the people that followed today of liked my last Jb post. I’ll keep my eye out for you from now on. Or better yet just block every new follower I got today. Im guessing you are new here cause clearly you didn’t see the big fucking post I made about sexualizing lgbtq kids isn’t protecting them. Tell you what there was two so I can’t be that hard to find. No great loss. Shame on you freak.

I’m going to tag transformers under this cause you are the exact people who the fandom needs to look out for. If my language or what I said offended, fuck you.

[amorgansgal]

When Shall We Meet Again?

We're at part 4 of this ongoing fic and I am having a blast! If you've not read part 1 (Practice Makes Perfect), part 2 (A Bitter Pill to Swallow) and part 3 (Such Sweet Sorrow) I'd recommend it. We're now following the events of BG3 if you squint because obviously you and Gale have history and there'll be a lot of things he either won't hide from you or will reveal sooner, so I'm messing around with the timeline and dialogue just a little bit. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Gale x Fat Female Reader/Tav

The whirling vortex of what had been a sigil sparked and hummed with magic and it seemed that neither you, Astarion nor Shadowheart were particularly willing to touch it. Given all that had happened you could hardly blame anyone. 

“Perhaps we could poke it with a stick,” you suggested and Astarion chuckled drolly. 

“I doubt that would help matters much!”

“Look, why don’t you touch it, and I’ll heal you if you need it,” Shadowheart suggested.

“And if I get blasted to pieces?” you asked. 

“We’ll make sure to pick them all up and put you back together! Parasite tadpole and all!” Astarion said.

You rolled your eyes, but perhaps that age old Waterdeep Academy curiosity got the better of you and you gave it a tentative poke with one finger. The magic fizzled up your arm like a bolt of electricity, it sent both a rush of excitement and sharp needles of pain dancing through your skin and blood. You shook your hand to get rid of the sensation and then were all too surprised when someone else’s hand suddenly appeared from the deep black pit of the sigil. 

“A hand, anyone!” a disembodied voice called out. Strangely, their voice was oddly familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where you knew it from. You frowned, trying to think why it rang a bell. But nothing came to mind. You did your best to calm the magic first, trying to get a control of it before touching it.

“Whatever you’re doing is working wonders!” the stranger cried out in encouragement and you smiled a little at the praise. But now it was time to try and free said stranger, so you grabbed hold of the hand and pulled. The magic had a strong hold on them, but then like a plug being released from a sink, they suddenly came loose and you were bowled over backwards as said person landed on you with a heavy thud.

“Ooof!” you exclaimed. 

“Gods, I am sorry, I’m usually better at this,” he said, getting off you and offering you a hand. You managed to sit up and look at him, but it suddenly hit you where and why and how you knew him. Gale. Gale Dekarios. It felt unreal to see him again, but you’d recognise those brown eyes anywhere. He was still handsome, even with age lines around his eyes and mouth, and with a few grey hairs in his chestnut brown hair. Truth be told, you thought he looked better than when he had been a youth, somehow he had grown into his face more. You weren’t quite sure if the same could be said for you! You realised you were still sat on the ground, eyes fixed on him, while he awkwardly held out his hand. Did he not recognise you? Had he forgotten you?

“Hello,” he greeted you cheerfully, offering the hand again. “I’m Gale of Waterdeep.”

“Y/N are you going to get up or do you plan on making things as awkward as possible?” Astarion muttered.

Gale’s eyes suddenly filled with recognition, which was quickly followed by a tremulous mix of excitement and apprehension. “Did you attend Waterdeep Academy?” he asked, you managed a nod and he beamed. “Y/N! I never thought I’d see you again, but you look well. Very well… barring the tadpole in your head I imagine. Do you remember me?”

“Yes, of course I do, Gale.” You took hold of his hand, not wanting to leave him hanging any longer and he helped you to your feet. He was still holding your hand and gave you a warm smile as his eyes scanned your face. 

“How was Neverwinter?” he asked. “I did write to you, but I guess… I guess you were busy.”

“Good, good…” you said, then trailed off into silence. You didn’t know what to say. What you could talk about with Gale. It had been so long, but all the same complicated feelings had rushed back in a matter of seconds. You remembered the kisses you had shared, his head buried between your legs… Oh gods, the tadpole connection! You immediately tried to think about anything else.  

“We saw a lot of mountains!” you exclaimed. Astarion snorted with laughter and Gale smiled politely, though you could see there was just a little hint of pride and heat in his gaze.

“Sounds fascinating,” Gale said. 

“Not that I don’t love crashing a clearly messy and emotionally fraught reunion, but would you care to introduce us, Y/N?” Astarion prompted.

“Of course, sorry,” you muttered, your cheeks felt hot and you apprehensively tugged on your neckline. “This is Gale, he and I attended Waterdeep Academy together. Gale, this is Astarion and Shadowheart.”

“I thought it may be prudent to speak with you before any other awkward situations arise,” Gale said, when you finally made it back to camp and the others had gone on ahead to their own tents or bedrolls for the evening.

“I’m sorry Gale, I didn’t mean to think of the past and you in that way-”

He raised a hand. “Not at all, I don't mind. Hells, if anything I’m rather flattered I was memorable in that way! It’s just that… well… I know that I ruined what could’ve been a perfectly good friendship and made you feel that you had no choice but to run. I’m sorry, I was a young, stubbornly romantic fool that couldn’t see the harm in what he was doing. It was never my intention to make you feel uncomfortable, but I did and I want you to know I’m a very different Gale to my stupid 20-something self.”

You smiled, a lot of time had passed and you knew what Gale had done was never done out of maliciousness. You held no il-will against him. “It’s alright Gale, we’ve both grown and changed, though I appreciate the apology. I’m sure we can still be friends.”

His eyes crinkled at the corner when he smiled and you felt your heart flutter. “I would like that,” he said.

“We’ve got a lot to catch up on,” you said and began walking with him towards the campfire. “Last I heard you had been chosen by Mystra and allowed to visit her hallowed halls, that must’ve been something! What was it like?”

You glanced over to Gale, but instead of seeing his usual excited expression and thrilled smile in getting to talk about something he was passionate about, his brow was furrowed, his eyes lost to the past and his mouth was a tight line. You felt tempted to reach out and touch his hand to bring him back to the present, but you stopped yourself.

“Oh it was something alright,” he muttered. He looked back up at you and gave a grim smile. “It is late and you are probably tired, I’ll find a spot to set up my bedroll and we’ll speak further in the morning.”

Honestly, the dismissal surprised you more than anything. He seemed so excited to find out you were someone he knew from his past, but now he was quickly scurrying away from you and being oddly secretive about what had occurred during the years you’d been apart. You frowned, you could guess it had something to do with Mystra, but you couldn’t imagine she was displeased with him. Gale had always worked so hard and been so dedicated to becoming the greatest archmage the world had ever seen. Why would Mystra not want him as her student? But you decided to not press matters further and instead took your spot by the fire.

You recognised the woman he had summoned in the palm of his hand. She glimmered beautifully, the magic sparkling in the low evening light and forming the easily recognisable face of the goddess Mystra. She had statues all over the Waterdeep Academy campus and many students carried pendants or medallions with her face or symbol carved into them. Gale was entranced, his eyes fixed on her, though you could see a glimmer of pain in his gaze as he looked upon her.

“Gale,” you murmured and he jumped, quickly dismissing the magic and putting his hand behind his back, as though he were a child caught sneaking biscuits from a jar.

“Oh! My! You startled me!” he said. “I…uh… I was miles away.”

“That was Mystra,” you pointed out.

“Yes… yes, it was.”

You waited to see if he would offer an explanation, but he only looked at you and the silence stretched on. The campsite was quiet, the only noises were the chirp of crickets, the gurgling of the nearby river and Scratch gnawing on a bone.

“What happened with her?” you finally asked.

Gale gave a nervous, sheepish laugh. “I… well, I’ve told you about the orb.”

“Yes,” you prompted. Your heart had bled for him when you realised what an awful secret he carried with him and how he had finally come to you, desperate for any magic item you might carry to soothe the dangerous magic that had lodged itself in his chest. You’d gladly parted with a necklace that gave the wearer the ability to misty step - given that was already a spell you could do, you saw no reason to keep it - but it had bothered you how Gale had been cursed by such magic. And it bothered you more by how guarded he was being with you when you just wanted to help figure out how to rid him of said curse.

“Well… I left out some details…” And with that he explained all, told you how much he idolised Mystra. How he had been her student, had been inspired by her and then become her lover. You flinched at that. Gale had said you two could be friends and you hadn’t pushed for anything beyond the occasional little flirtatious remarks you both partook in, but somehow… knowing he had shared the bed of a goddess… how could you compete with that? Whatever flicker of desire he had once held for you, must’ve surely been doused by Mystra’s grace and beauty. 

And he had wanted to impress her, to please her, to be everything to her. He wanted to show her that he could do anything, that he could handle more power and so he had pursued the fragmented, broken weave - thinking it would convince her and she would be so utterly amazed and impressed by him, that she would be swayed and give him more magic. His words sent a shiver down your spine, there was something dark and foreboding about the way Gale had greedily snatched for greatness, even if he had good intentions initially. You got the sense he had gone after the missing bit of weave more for his own benefit than Mystra’s.

“And then she left me, abandoned me, the orb lodged in my chest. She wouldn’t speak to me, she wouldn’t answer me when I called upon her. Tara was going here, there and everywhere to find magical items that it could feed upon. But I knew it was getting more and more impossible. I was determined to make my way to the Underdark and wait down there, wait for my end, away from civilisation, away from anyone I could hurt.”

You were left reeling, you knew Mystra could be harsh at times, downright cruel at others, but you hadn’t expected her to be so callous and to risk so many lives. You suddenly felt angry. Not only at Mystra abandoning Gale and leaving him to his fate. But how she had in effect risked the lives of everyone around Gale’s tower. He couldn’t know for sure when his orb might explode and what if he had wiped out the entirety of Waterdeep? Was Mystra perfectly fine with the idea that he could’ve killed thousands and destroyed one of her most beloved cities that dedicated itself to her worship and trained dozens of aspiring wizards, just because her previous chosen had made a mistake? A stupid mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.  That wasn’t to say Gale was entirely innocent in the situation. He’d been foolhardy and overly ambitious, but you still felt bad for him. Especially as he had locked himself away for years, pushing away all of his friends and colleagues. How lonely he must’ve been.

He sighed heavily, but then looked up at you and smiled. “But now… now I’m here and you’re here, and it does feel good to see you. I hadn’t realised it, but I missed you. Missed you so ardently. You have this lovely small smile that you do when you think no one is watching, but I see it. And it brings me such joy.”

Your cheeks flushed at Gale’s warm gaze and the sweet sentiment in his voice at noticing something you felt was rather insignificant about you, but it sent your heart racing. You exhaled slowly and tried your best to focus on what had been discussed prior.

“Why didn’t you tell me about all of this? Why didn’t you write to me?” you asked. You would’ve come to help, or at least keep him company or looked for magical items with Tara, maybe even tried to find a cure.

Gale managed a sad smile. “You’d ignored my previous letters. I didn’t exactly have the impression you would’ve dropped everything to come and help the foolish boy who got too excited at the very first glimmer of romance and love.”

“Gale, you were still my friend, I would’ve helped no matter what.”

He gave a shrug. “Not to mention I still had some hope that Mystra would forgive me and writing to an ex-flame didn’t seem the best way of winning her forgiveness.”

You scowled at the mention of Mystra again. Gale seemed so utterly convinced that she would be petty enough to not grant her forgiveness if he had anything to do with someone he’d had a previous relationship with. She had seemed intent on both abandoning him and leaving him without any source of comfort or aid from anyone else he knew.

“But, let us think on other things,” he said, suddenly enthusiastic and cheerful. “Do you remember how in one class we learnt to channel the weave all together?”

You thought back on that class. It had been an incredible class and your professor had told you to tread carefully, to not pry into someone else’s thoughts and be careful what you yourself transferred across to them. You’d been paired with Nira and even without any romantic feelings it had still been an intense experience, a feeling of being pulled together, the weave entwining around you, becoming a part of you, becoming you and the other person and every person in that room. You had looked over to Gale, who was with Hortense, to see the girl’s face redden and her furtive smile made you wonder what he had thought about. Only later did you figure it out. 

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, how about we do that again? Give us something else to think about than Mystra!”

“You want to channel the weave - something Mystra controls - in order to not think about Mystra?” you pointed out.

“I want to channel the weave to remember what channelling the weave felt like and also remember my happy school days with you.”

“We didn’t channel the weave together-”

“No, but we got on, didn’t we? You beat me at alchemy, remember? I sometimes made you laugh, if memory serves. I read to you at the beach.”

You hesitated. He had made you laugh, though he’d made a good many people laugh and you hadn’t thought he had wanted to make you laugh in particular. You remembered your days off, where your study group would all trek down to the beach, following the sandy cliff path through bracken and heather, dust covering your shoes and the gorse scratching your clothes or bare legs. When you arrived at the beach you would watch the others swim, too nervous to take off your clothes and see the scorn in your friends’ eyes. Gale had often kept you company during that time, though he had mostly read his books. You had just thought he hadn’t cared much for swimming, though you liked hearing him read bits of the books aloud to you and when he asked for your ideas on the topics, it was a good way to pass the time there. It had been nice to talk to him like that, though you had been very shy then and couldn’t quite believe Mystra’s chosen deigned to speak to you.

“Very well,” you said and gestured for him to begin the magic.

It was entrancing, the weave flowed around you both, a purple stream glimmering and shivering, merging and folding, expanding and withdrawing. You reached out to touch it, the edges fizzed with different colours - blues and greens and silver and little sparks of black and gold. As your eyes followed the ever moving river of magic, you finally looked back at Gale, his eyes were fixed on you and he smiled. The weave swirled within you. Had you always been so close to him? You felt him in the weave, connected to you, part of you. It felt like a dream and yet also, so real and present and here. He was here and you were here and the weave was pulling your souls together. Gale was looking at you, drinking you in, his eyes were soft and dreamy and his lips were parted, and you imagined kissing him, tasting him again, feeling the warm brush of his beard against your cheek, his hands drifting down your back and waist and holding you close to him again.

Gale’s eyes widened and you realised all too quickly that you had transferred that thought, that you had let him know you had dreamt about the last kiss he had given you and that you fantasised about him kissing you now. You felt his surprise, but it was swiftly followed by a rush of his elation. Did he want you to kiss him? You cut the connection, pulling away and the coldness of the night enveloped you, after the warmth and security of the weave it felt empty and hollow. He was still so close to you, if you wished you could have bridged the gap and kissed him, instead you looked down to your feet, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. 

“Don’t be,” he said. “Like I said, I’m not the foolish youth you once knew. It was a pleasant image and I don’t resent you for sharing it with me. It was most pleasant in fact, most welcome. I had feared for a long time you still might resent me for what happened at the Waterdeep Academy and I wouldn’t blame you for it-”

“Resent you? Gale we were both young and silly and overwhelmed by every new emotion. You’ve apologised for what happened, more times than I can count and you’ve been nothing but good and kind and respectful now. I’d be a fool to resent you.”

“Well…” he gave a shrug, then looked at you, seemingly content to stay where he was. Then finally he asked, “Is it very bad I want to kiss you right now?”

You blinked in surprise and then pressed your lips tightly together, trying not to reveal your excitement at the thought. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “I wouldn’t have thought I could compare to a goddess. I certainly didn’t compare to most of the women at the academy.”

Gale’s expression flickered quickly from outrage to distress as though he was appalled you would think so little of yourself. “What do you…That’s insane… Have you seen yourself?” he demanded.

“Yes, if anything I’ve seen a little too much of myself and if you recall it was part of the reason why a good many of my classmates thought the idea of you courting someone like me was absurd!”

Gale’s frown remained and he exhaled slowly as though calming himself, but his hand balled into a fist. He was silent for a moment, until he said, “I think you beautiful, whether you see that or no, and I never cared what anyone else thought nor did I think it absurd I would fall for a woman who was gentle, sweet, kind, caring and so smart. So wondrously and impossibly smart.” 

You had to look away from his gaze, you were so touched by what he said and now your mind was racing with ‘what ifs’. What if you hadn’t rejected him at the Academy? What if you hadn’t run away to Neverwinter? What if you had pursued a relationship with him? Would he have become Mystra’s lover? Would he have got an orb lodged in his chest? Would you both be here now with tadpoles in your heads?

“Sorry, that was too much, wasn’t it? But you are all those things and there’s no expectation on my part for you to say or do anything-” Gale rambled on and you knew there wasn’t any point in denying how you felt about him, especially if still felt the same way about you. You closed the gap and pulled him into a kiss, your hand curled into his hair and he let out a little soft groan. His hands cupped your face and he met your kisses with the same intensity and passion as he had when you were younger.

When you finally broke apart he didn’t demand you come to his bed, just stroked your cheeks. “You are perfect, you’ve always been perfect. Anyway, best I head to bed, don’t want to excite the orb too much! Goodnight,’ he said and gave you one last kiss, before heading over to his tent.

[illarian-rambling]

So this has been looooong overdue...

Character Introduction: Duchon Avymere Kalaphon Spearsong III, Heir to the Icy City

“So.” The Duchon pulled a silken rope and a blue-clad figure brought out a tea set almost faster than Astra could blink. “You seem a curious sort. My last tailor was an old, stodgy fellow—I always worried one needle prick would be the end of him.” They smiled mischievously. “Tell me about yourself, Ms. DuClaire, and I’ll tell you a bit about myself. Nothing you don’t want to, of course. Just anything you find fun or worth sharing.”

Somewhat surprisingly, the Duchon began to prepare two cups of tea with their own hands. Silently, they tapped the bowl of sugar. Astra held up three fingers.

Was this some sort of ploy? Astra honestly couldn’t tell what the motive would be, much less if there was one. The Duchon seemed almost child-like, humming softly to themself as they stirred their servant’s tea.

Alright, doll, I’ll play your game. But I ain’t gonna— Astra took a sip of the tea they passed her and almost fainted for how tantalizing the flavor was. Ok, maybe I’ll like it.

“Well, like my papers said, I’m from the Republic.” She cleared her throat, blushing a bit under the handsome elf’s undivided attention. “What they didn’t say is I’m most a’ the way to a book mage, I just never ended up gettin’ my license. Your, uh, your grace, I mean.”

“What a remarkable path!” The Duchon blinked eyes as bright as a bird’s. “As a note, when we’re in my personal quarters, you may call me Avymere, if you wish. I know you don’t have our slew of titles down in the Republic. Trust me, even I find it all confusing sometimes!”

They laughed, a light, airy sound that reminded the witch of wind chimes. She found herself relaxing into the chair, smiling as she sipped her tea, even as her mind whirled. There was just something about this person! It snagged at Astra’s core like a loose tooth. Maybe it was just her general distrust of fine folk, but no one was that chipper—not at eight in the morning with a total stranger.

“Why did you decide to quit before taking your licensing exam?” Avymere asked, they themself also sitting in a more relaxed manner now. “I understand it’s a very difficult exam, though I never had a head for runes. My father tried, by the gods he did, but nothing ever stuck.” They shrugged in a ditzy way. “I suspect he was always a little disappointed I never took to it.”

“The exam was more money than I was willin’ to spend,” Astra answered, skirting the truth by an inch or two. “’Sides, I don’t need it for what I’m doin’ now.”

Was it possible that the Duchon was just… dumb? Well-meaning, but it was just so out there that a noble would be asking such intrusive questions to the help. If a library worth of runic knowledge hadn’t been on the line and she wouldn’t’ve been hung for saying so, Astra would’ve told anyone else to stuff it. Her reasons for not having her license were no one’s business but her own! Yet, Astra couldn’t honestly look into those starling eyes and work up any true indignation. They were just so genuine.

“I heard a description of the skirt you made,” Avymere continued with a conspiratory grin. “I think that’s a beautiful marriage of the arts—runes and fashion. Though I guess runes aren’t technically art, are they? They sure are pretty though. Do you have a favorite rune? One you think is the prettiest?”

Another… well it wasn’t really a nosy question, just a weird one. Astra decided to answer honestly. “On a visual level? Fire,” she said. “It’s one a’ the simplest shapes, yet elegant too. ’Course I don’t use it much in this line a’ work.”

“Oh, I suppose that’s a shame. But you wouldn’t want clothes catching on fire, now would you?” Avymere laughed again, drawing an unexpected chuckle from Astra’s lips as the elf’s mirth spread through the air.

“So, you had another line of work, then? Not magic if you don’t have your license, I’m guessing, and not clothes because that’s what you’re doing now. Were you”—Their eyes flicked to her hands, to the slight stiffness with which she held her left arm—“a farmer? Oh, or a fighter! You’ve got a tough look about you. Is it true all people in the Republic can swing a sword?”

“I, uh….” Astra paused, then really considered what she was about to say. Potion hunting wasn’t too far from what she’d been doing for six years. That was probably exactly the sort of answer Avymere wanted though.

Astra considered further what she’d said already to this chatterbox elf, what she’d given up as answers to those silly questions. Avymere knew she was an unlicensed mage with the skill to pass the exam, just not the funds. They knew she had a proclivity for fire. They knew she had the hands of a physical laborer and a previously injured arm. In short, they’d picked up on everything that might make her dangerous in less time than it’d taken the witch to finish her tea.

She grinned. So this was a game then. Just one she’d never seen played before.

And by extension, one she herself didn’t know how to play.

“I did freelance work for a few years on the road.” Astra shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “I assume you’re a spy a’ some sort.”

“That—” Avymere coughed, choking briefly on their tea. Astra’s grin grew even wider. They caught the expression and a cautious smile began to creep onto their own features. “And why ever would you ask that?”

“Just the questions ya asked, is all. That and I ain’t too trustin’ a’ nobility—no offense. It all lined up too neatly, ya didn’t have any questions in there that were pure nonsense.”

Avymere’s smile grew more coy. “I’ll take that into account, Ms. DuClaire. Your insight is an honest pleasure. And I take no offense, I probably trust my peers less than you do. Now, shall we dispense with the interview and start our day?”

Full backstory is under the cut ;)

Avymere is the only child of Archduke Eluan Spearsong and Duchess Amarell Spearsong. The Spearsongs have long ruled the city of Salis, within the icy elven country of Skysheer, and are counted as the second most important family in the nation. In addition, they are known to possess a powerful inherited sorcery, augmented by their study of runes. Eluan Spearsong has been long considered one of Illaros's most powerful mages, while his wife steered the city's politics like a well-broken mare. Avymere should've been born with everything, and in a way, they were. In others, they were not so lucky.

For starters, Avymere was born without a trace of sorcery - the first Spearsong in a millenia to be fully mundane. Secondly, though their father tried and they studied and struggled, book magic never clicked for them either. They exist as a break in the grand chain of Spearsong arcane tradition. Thirdly, when they were no more than eight, their mother was assassinated by an unknown faction. The culprit was never found.

This isn't to say Avymere's childhood was all dark. Apart from his sadness in his child not being able to practice magic, Eluan was a model father. He encouraged Avymere's passion for martial arts, even though such a thing is considered unseemly for Skysheerian nobility. He instilled them with strong ideals of stewardship and leading as an act of service, and always made time to care for them while running the city. It's no surprise then, that as an adult, Avymere is doggedly loyal to the Archduke.

Apart from their talent in martial arts, Avymere also has a skill for spycraft. This was recognized early on by the Archduke's spymaster, and since there are simply some places a Duchon can go that a spy disguised as a servant can't, they were trained extensively from the moment they hit adulthood. For their part, Avymere is happy to serve as a spy. It is their duty to the nation and they enjoy the challenge.

This spycraft has had a significant impact on their personality. Though they've never reflected on such a thing, Avymere would hardly recognize their true personality. They play the charming ditz in front of the court, the benevolent library builder in front of the citizens, and the terrifying specter for any rebels or political enemies who manage to get close. The one thing that remains consistent among their many faces is a sense of unyielding duty. They don't see themself as a person, but rather as a tool to protect Skysheer. It's not really an unhappy experience - more that they don't know what it means to be truly happy. The only time they take for themself is when they practice martial arts, often sparring with their bodyguards in the palace garden. They are impeccably polite, deeply cunning, and completely unaware of their worth as a person. They don't wear the crown - it wears them.

Can you see why they're one bad adventure away from a severe breakdown?

Anyways, here are some fun facts!

Avymere is 153 years old. Given that elves in my setting can live to around 500, they're the equivalent of mid to late twenties.

The martial art they practice is called Talmel Valkys, and it's a holdover from before the Skysheerian elves split from their more militant Nabafyrian cousins. Its closest real-world equivalent would be muay thai mixed with a little aikkido.

They, like everyone in their family, are very nearsighted.

Given how their mother was assassinated, Avymere is extraordinarily paranoid about assassins targeting their father.

Their gender would be defined as fe'penche specifically. Elven culture recognizes six genders, and fe'penche roughly translates to nonbianary but female leaning. This means Avymere dresses more femme and engages in traditionally feminine work (politics). In the human tongue, they stick to they/them.

They can play the pianoforte with a very medium level of skill.

That's not quite a wrap, as I have one more present for you. A proper portrait! (Finally!)

Though they are lily white to human eyes, Avymere is considered quite tan for a Skysheerian. Their hair is also a stark white typical of their people, while their eyes are a pale gray.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far! Let me know if you have any questions and you have yourself a bitchin day <3

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[garbinge]

Suspicion

Evan "Buck" Buckley & F!Diaz!Reader (Eddie Diaz's sister) 30 Day Fic Challenge (26/30)

Word Count: 937 words

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Trauma, blood, spoilers for s4e13 of 911, heartbreaking, crying, sibling trauma. All Writing Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989

Your feet were moving faster than your brain could think. Eyes searching for the emergency room entrance, as fast as you wanted to find it, a part of you wished you could just keep going in circles, it would push off the inevitable. You knew you reached where you were supposed to be when you saw the crowds of press near the ER doors. It was all blocked off, only opening being where the ambulances could drive up. 

You saw someone with a firefighter shirt on, seeing the symbol and 118 on the shirt and before you knew it you called out to him. 

“Buck!!” 

Two people’s heads turned, a red haired woman and Evan Buckley. His face looked even more sick as he made eye contact with you. You pushed through the crowd and ran up to him, your hands grabbing onto his arms in an alarming manner.

“Where is he? What happened?” In your panic, your eyes moved from him to inside the hospital and then back to him. “They’re saying a firefighter was shot, Hen called me and told me to get down here that Eddie’s in the ER, please Buck.” You were frantically searching for answers, hopeful for him to tell you that the news had been reporting wrong and that your brother was okay. You turned your head to the woman close to Buck and she offered you a soft smile. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” You moved your hands away from Buck but he grabbed them before you pulled away completely. 

“It’s Eddie. He was shot. He was right in front of me.” Buck started to spiral before taking a deep breath and getting it together while gripping your arms tighter. “He’s in surgery, that’s all I know.” 

You felt your knees buckle and someone's arms behind you to steady you. They were petite, which made you assume it was whoever was standing with Buck. 

“Christopher.” You mumbled under your breath, the only thing that your mind could clearly focus on right now, your nephew. 

“I can talk to Christopher,” Buck started to move before both you and his friend were stopping him. 

“Let me drive you both,” She spoke up looking between you. 

“You should stay here, be here when he’s out of surgery.” Buck spoke to you, swallowing all his tension and stress despite his hands still shaking. “I’ll clean up and talk to Christopher and bring him here to see you.” 

You agreed, not really sure what else to do in this circumstance. Before Buck turned around to walk away he shook his head and lightly jogged towards you, pulling you into a tight hug. You both said nothing, just embraced each other tightly. Buck was one of your brother’s best friends and in turn, one of yours. When you showed up at your brother’s doorstep looking for a place to crash, you were met with a tall dirty blond man versus the brunette you were expecting. As you settled into LA, Eddie’s friends became your own. Game nights, dinners, all of it brought you close with each one of them. It was at that moment that it hit you. 

“Taylor. You’re Taylor.” 

The woman smiled and nodded. 

“I’m sorry–” You began to say to the woman, you were in full denial right now, not letting the news of what Buck had told you happened really sink in just yet. 

“No, please, don’t apologize, if you need anything just let me know, I’m here for all of you.” She smiled lightly again. 

“All of you?” You frowned looking back at Buck. 

“Hen and Chimney are here.” 

You shook your head in response. “My parents, I should call my parents, I guess someone should call Ana.” Now you were starting to spiral as a trauma response to this all, thinking of all the people you needed to call, your parents, Eddie's girlfriend, Christopher's caretaker, Carla– and you were sure the list would go on as your brain kept thinking. 

“I can handle Ana and Carla, you call your parents, and I’ll meet you back here with Christopher.” Buck was more level headed as he thought through next steps. 

“Christopher.” Your heart broke as you said his name again and all Buck could do was bring you in for another hug, this one being quick to ensure you didn’t get worked up to the point that you wouldn’t be able to talk with the nurses inside. 

Buck and Taylor left, leaving you standing inside the hospital entrance standing on the mat in front of the welcome desk. Despite Buck’s efforts you weren’t able to talk with them, you couldn’t say anything. All you could do is stand there and look down at the blood that must’ve been on Buck which transferred over to you in one of his many hugs. 

It was then that you heard someone say your name along with someone else saying excuse me. As your mind came to you saw the nurse leaning their head down to look at you over the front desk and then turned to where you heard your name being called. 

Hen. It was Hen. The minute you saw her, the floodgates opened. The ache in your heart finally reached the lump in your throat and any attempt to talk was met with sobs instead. Hen was quick to hold you and walk you over to the waiting room. She placed you in between her and Chimney and just consoled you until the tears eventually dried up. 

“God I’m sorry, I must look a mess.” 

“It’s alright, we all are.” hen squeezed your leg and the three of you sat there, your hearts pounding as the seconds passed waiting for the news if Eddie was going to make it out of surgery.

[in1-nutshell]

Nightlight meets the Batfamily

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

TFA

Nightlight didn’t know why she got transported to this smelly dinging alley.

All she remembered was helping Professor Sumdac carry some heavy material’s then feeling fuzzy and landing in the ally.

Worse, several important wires responsible for transformation had come out of their sockets.

Nothing could get wo—

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

Nightlight looks at her window and sees a small figure leaning on her frame. They were bleeding. She opens the door, and the figure falls into her front seat. It was a boy in a costume.

Nightlight: “Hey kid! Are you okay?”

The boy slowly lifts his head groaning.

Nightlight: “Kid is there a hospital or place we can go to get help?”

The boy groaned more, his eyes closing. Nightlight wraps her seatbelt around the boy. He yelped as the belt went over his wound and tightened.

Nightlight: “Sorry, can’t have you bleeding out. Now, is there a place we can go and get you help?” The boy hazily nods: “…putting in coordinates… wanna sleep bats…”

Nightlight puts the coordinates in and speeds off.

Nightlight: “Hang tight kiddo. Help is on the way.”

Nightlight’s spark was in overdrive when the boy suddenly slumped in her seat.

She was surprised when a secret entrance opened into a large cave.

She honked her horn several times getting the attention of an older human and another human in a wheelchair.

Carefully opening the door and letting the boy get carried off by the older man.

The woman rolled over to her.

Barbara: “Bruce? Bruce where—” Nightlight: “Who’s Bruce?”

The human woman in wheelchair made a startled noise.

Barbara: “Who said that?” Nightlight: “I did.” Barbara: “You’re the car? But how the batmobile—wait how—”

Nightlight pops her hood.

Nightlight: “If you can connect those wires, I’ll explain everything.”

The woman hesitates but eventually plugs in the wires. Nightlight transforms and stretches a bit. She looks down at the woman and kneels offering her digit.

Nightlight: “Thank you Ms…” Barbara: “…Oracle.”

Nightlight tilts her helm a bit.

Nightlight: “Oracle? Not a traditional human name I’ve heard. Or is it a code name?” Barbara: “Code name. Now, explain.”

Nightlight explained her situation to ‘Oracle’.

The older human, Alfred, soon came towards the pair telling them that ‘Red Robin’ was now stable.

The bot vented in relief and introduced herself to the older human.

She eventually sat down by the med bay while happily chatting with the older man when ‘Red Robin’ had woken up.

Tim groans as his eyes adjust to the light. Alfred goes to Tim side gently patting his head.

Alfred: “Good sleep, Master Tim?”

Tim groans as he adjusts himself to sit up in the bed.

Tim: “I guess. But I was having the strangest dream about the batmobile talk—”

Tim looks over at the giant robot in the cave waving at him.

Tim: “…I think I’m still dreaming. The batmobile is a mech.” Nightlight: “I’m no mech kid. The names Nightlight.” Tim: “…” Nightlight: “Yeah, don’t worry we’ll explain everything, right Barbara?” Tim: “It knows your names?!”

It takes a bit to explain to Tim what happened, but he does eventually understand and does say thank you for the rescue.

Nightlight simply pats his head.

Now… to tell the others about their temporary companion.

Tim was half tempted to bring Nightlight with him to his team’s hide out until she could go back home.

But it was ultimately decided that The Batman should be let on this.

The batmobile and two motorcycles pulled into the cave. The vigilantes get out.

Jason: “And that’s why you don’t film pigeons while you’re on patrol.” Damian: “Todd I swear--.” Bruce: “Enough both of you.” Bruce: “Did anyone check in with Red Robin.” Dick: “I thought he was with you. He was calling for the batmobile… are you guys seeing this?”

Tim, with bandages, was in the palm of a giant robot that looked oddly similar to the batmobile.

Nightlight: “Then I somersaulted Starscream and shoved the bomb right up his—Oh! We have visitors.”

Nightlight was picking out tiny ‘batarangs’ while Tim, Barbara and Alfred explained the situation.

Jason wants proof of the transformation.

Nightlight does then goes back to her root mode.

Jason: “So, she’s kinda like the female robot alien version of you B.” Nightlight: “I am not—” Bruce: “She is not—" Dick: “What did you say your job was again?” Nightlight: “I’m a detective. I solve mysteries, put the bad guys in cuffs—”

Jason gives Bruce a smug look.

Damian: “Did your parents die when you were young.” Dick, Tim: “Damain!” Nightlight: “Umm, no? I don’t have any parents. That concept is more of the traditional Earth thing. I have had mentors though.” Dick: “… How about a complicated love life?” Bruce glares at all his children: “Okay now how about we stop—” Nightlight: “I have a Conjunx if that’s what you’re asking.” Batfamily: “Conjunx?” Nightlight: “I believe its translated as ‘Spouse’, on Earth.” Jason: “… how come the robot version of you has her life together and you don’t.” Bruce: “Jason--” Tim: “Last one! Do you have a tendency of adopting orphans or kids in general?” Nightlight laughs a bit before thinking back at most of the members on Team Prime: “… I have become a figure to some extent.” Nightlight looks over at Tim before plucking him up and placing him on her shoulder: “Anymore questions?” All Bat kids looking up: “…” Nightlight: “If you want up—” Batkids: “Please!”

Bruce broods in silence as his kids are carried up the bots shoulders and helm.