#I had to make this or else it would be stuck in my head

[gyaruhana]

please do one where Thanos starts off as your unlikely ally in the games, protecting you from danger and helping you survive. Over time, his protectiveness becomes obsessive, and he begins eliminating anyone he sees as a threat to keeping you by his side even as you start to notice his unsettling behavior you can’t escape his grasp🙏

Thanos/Choi Su-Bong - yandere bf

Synopsis: In an attempt to escape from Thanos, you join a game promising money that will help you escape him. Unfortunately, he also seemed to have joined the game.

A/N: I may have combined this with two other requests bc they were all so similar so.. i hope thats okay !!

Warning: yandere thanos, choking

If you had told your younger self you’d be in a game of death with 45.6 billion won up for grabs, you wouldn’t believe it. And yet, it’s true. After the tragedy that was Red Light, Green Light where many people met a rather unfortunate fate, you realized it’d be in your best interest to find someone you can trust and form an alliance with them.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend, Thanos, happened to also be a part of the games and had been watching you from a distance since he spotted you in the first game. You had originally wanted to get away from him because he was nothing but toxic though now it seems Thanos was one step ahead of you. That, or you just had terrible luck and Thanos decided to come here on his own accord. 

You didn't have time to think about it though because he suddenly got up and left his little group behind to make his way straight to you. He didn't seem happy at all. Perhaps it was because the last conversation you two had was an argument that was left off on a bad note. 

“Where have you been? Were you avoiding me? That makes me really fucking mad, you know,” he says as he grabs your wrist so you can't just walk away from him. Not like there was anywhere to go now. You were stuck with him here. 

“I was just taking some time for myself,” you respond defensively. You really just wanted to get away from him which is why you were here in the first place. Your original plan was to win some money and then disappear so you'd never have to deal with Thanos and his crazy behavior again. It was suffocating to be near him.

“Time for yourself? Don't fucking lie to me,” he says as he brings you closer to him. Nothing about him was gentle. Not his touches, or his kisses, or anything. “Well, you've had your time. You're not leaving my side now,” he continues as he looks down at you with a glare. He wasn't leaving any room for you to defy him. In his eyes, you belonged to him. You were his property and that meant you couldn't go rogue and do what you want. 

“You don't get a say in that,” you say as you lean back slightly to try to create some distance between the two of you. He lets out a bitter laugh before grabbing the back of your head, entangling his fingers in your hair, and forcing you closer. “Yes, I do. In case you forgot, you're stuck in a death game with me. Do you really think anyone else will help you? Nobody else here gives a fuck about you. The moment they get the chance, they'll let a bullet go through your head,” he says as he looks down at you with a slightly crazed look. 

You'd like to make a counter point but he’s not exactly wrong. A lot of the people here didn't seem to be trustworthy. Not like Thanos was any better but he probably wouldn't purposely kill you if you didn't piss him off, right? As much as you didn't want to, you realized you didn't have much choice. Unless you want to make an enemy right after the first game, Thanos was your only hope of surviving the rest of the games.

“That's better. Just keep your pretty lips shut and let me do the talking,” Thanos spoke with a slight smirk. You didn't respond to that knowing that you'd likely make some sarcastic quip that would piss him off if you did. You didn't have a choice this time. You couldn't run away to another country. You had to give in just this once.

You'd soon come to regret that decision. 

Somehow, Thanos had only gotten worse. He was always right next to you, no matter what. Either his hand would be over your shoulder or he'd have a tight grip on your waist. When it was lights out, he'd force you to sleep in the same bed as him. He'd kiss you all the time too but it was always rough with teeth clashing against each other and his tongue shoved down your throat.

You didn't notice it got worse until it was far too late. 

The moment of realization was during the third game. The game was called ‘mingle’ and it was simple enough. A number would be called out and you'd have 30 seconds to form a group of that number before getting inside one of the fifty rooms. 

Everyone stood on a circular platform in the center of the room and, per usual, Thanos had his arm over your shoulder, keeping you close to him as he spoke to his other stupid friend. The platform began to spin slowly as a childish song played. When the platform came to a sudden stop and a number was called out you formed a group and ran into a room. 

It was all going fine as you planned strategic moves and managed to keep on surviving. At least, it was going well. Until the last round when the number 2 was called. 

Thanos had immediately taken your wrist and dragged you towards a room, leaving behind his idiot friend without a second thought. However, the room was quickly stolen by two other players. You thought Thanos would just go to the next room over but that was not what happened.

Instead he pushed open the door and immediately grabbed one of the guys by their hair. He didn't think twice before he forced him out of the room. The other guy made an attempt to help but Thanos slammed him against the wall, his hand going around his throat as he choked him. The look in his eyes was far more scary than you remember. You could hardly process what was happening before the guy was punched in the face and pushed out of the room. 

Thanos pulled you in just before the door closed and locked. The sound of gunshots rang out soon after as Thanos huffed in annoyance. He looked guilt free despite the fact he was very much responsible for the death of two people. Actually, now that you really thought about it, he had killed other people in the previous games too.

Fuck. You were beginning to regret your choice of becoming his ally. You'd have much rather found someone else who could protect you from him because he was clearly fucking crazy. Crazier than he used to be. You thought he was just a manipulative, toxic bastard. You didn't think he'd be truly capable of murder. 

“Fucking dickheads,” Thanos mumbles under his breath with annoyance before glancing at your face. The corner of his lips quirked up when he noticed your expression and he wandered in front of you. “What? Something wrong?” He spoke though he already knew exactly what you were thinking.

“You killed those people,” you said as you looked up at him with a combination of fear and disbelief. He laughed in response before reaching a hand up and grabbing your face. “For you, baby. I fucking killed them for you,” he said as he looked down at you with a smirk. He found your expression such a turn-on really. The idea you were afraid of him meant you'd submit to him and that's all he wanted.

“You're fucking crazy.. crazier than I thought,” you spoke as you tried to step back and create some distance between the two of you. In response, he slammed you against the wall and got very close to you. 

“You're only just realizing this? You don't realize when I snapped the ankle of that bastard who looked at you so he'd lose? You didn't realize when our ‘friend’ and I returned but he had a bleeding nose?” He spoke as he got into your face with a dangerous grin. Well, when he said it like that, it became abundantly clear he had been killing and hurting people left and right since day one and all for you. You just had been too caught up in his behavior towards you that you didn't notice how he acted with others.

“Mm. Fuck, I love that look on your face. You're so afraid. Good. Because you're going to learn that you're mine forever, yeah?” He spoke as he brought a hand to your throat and squeezed it tightly. He let out a laugh as he choked you like it was the funniest thing in the world before slamming his lips to yours in a rough kiss. 

It was then you realized that, no matter how hard you tried to escape, you were his now - you always have been - and you will never taste freedom on your tongue again.

[jessiexflem]

– life of the party | jessie fleming x reader

content: a little fluffy Jessie blurb for your new year's eve :)

“Are we lame?” you frown.

Jessie sets two wine glasses on the counter and scoffs, “We are not, why would you think that?”

Raising an eyebrow at her, you gesture to your New Year’s Eve set-up, which consisted of a bottle of sauvignon blanc and a 1000-piece puzzle. Empty takeout containers from your favorite sushi restaurant littered your dining table. Despite protest from your friends, you and Jessie opted to stay in this New Year’s, wanting to spend time with just each other. 

“Hey, you were the one who asked if we could pick out a new puzzle,” your girlfriend retorts, handing you your glass of wine before settling on the floor next to the coffee table. You slide off of the couch to sit next to her.

“Cheers?” you hold your glass out, and Jessie clinks hers to yours. 

Sipping on your wine, you and Jessie sit in comfortable silence as you work on opposite sides of your puzzle. You make a face at the pile of blue pieces in front of you, cursing yourself for picking one with a solid background.

“I don’t like this one,” you sigh.

“We’ve barely started on it,” Jessie chuckles, “I–”

“Don’t you dare,” you shoot a playful glare at your girlfriend, knowing that an ‘I told you so’ was about to leave her lips. 

You were never really into puzzles until you started dating Jessie, and even now, your patience was thin with them. Normally, you would start working on the border until you get frustrated, then spend the rest of your time cuddling into Jessie and watching her finish the rest. You had been at the store earlier today, when you pointed out the puzzle to your girlfriend. She tried to tell you that she knew you wouldn’t enjoy this particular one, but you insisted on buying it to add to your collection.

“Which part are you stuck on?” she asks, glancing over to your side of the table. Jessie places a few pieces down, finding the correct ones almost immediately. 

“How are you so good at this?”

“Practice,” a smile quirks at Jessie’s lips, “and patience.”

You roll your eyes before glancing at your phone, noting the time. “Oh, the countdown! Turn on the TV!”

Jessie obliges and flips the channel to the New Year’s Eve countdown.

“Shoot, I’ve got to figure out who I’m going to kiss at midnight,” she jokes, “What about you? Do you have a New Year’s kiss?” 

“Well, there’s this really cute girl sitting near me that I’m hoping will let me kiss her,” you grin, “Lots of freckles and curly hair, she’s exactly my type.”

“One minute!” the television host chirps into his microphone.

Jessie stands, holding her hand out to you to help you off the floor. Excitement fills inside of you, as the countdown gets closer to midnight. 

“For the record, I think that girl with the freckles and curly hair wants to kiss you at midnight, too,” your girlfriend smirks, pulling you into her so that you’re standing chest to chest.

“Yeah?” you wrap your arms around her neck as her hands find their way to your hips. 

“Five, four,” shout the announcers on the television, “Three, two, one!”

“Happy New Year, love,” Jessie whispers before leaning in, her lips pressing against yours.

“Happy New Year, my darling,” you smile, a yawn escaping your lips.

“Ready for bed?” Jessie asks, matching your yawn with one of her own.

You glance at the clock behind Jessie’s head. 9:01 PM. Three hours until midnight in Portland. The sounds of Ryan Seacrest and his celebrity friends celebrating the New Year in New York City continued to fill your living room. You look back at Jessie, who wore a sheepish smile on her face.

“Okay,” she admits, “we might, just maybe, be a little bit lame.”

You giggle, pulling your girlfriend toward your shared bedroom. “But you know I wouldn’t want to be lame with anyone else next year.”

[nerdlvr]

✩ 69

(MDNI)

smutty smut , nerd jisung x hot girl experienced reader , ji's first time giving head , 69 sex position (first time writing this ahh) , pussy eating , dick sucking , sorta face riding , she's on top , big dick ji (canon) , lots of body fluids , jisungs a pussy hungry dork , kinda pt. 2 to library head , lmk if i missed anything!

jisung would probably die of embarrassment if you could see his face. he was practically foaming at the mouth, cheeks burning red as you wiggled your ass in his face, your soft giggles only made him impossibly harder as he imagined how you'd mock him for looking this desperate.

"come of ji, just give it a taste."

he watched as your juices glistened against your folds, hips still wiggling in a taunting motion.

"i- i don't know if i can do- oh my-"

his hands came up to grip your thighs, the soft kitten lick you landed on his tip making his head spin.

"we can stop if you want ji-"

your small fingers wrapped around his length, gently gripping his base as you leaned down again to give his leaking head a kiss.

"fuck- don't do that- i'm gonna-"

you giggled again, moving your hand away his length and placing it on his thigh, slightly turning your body to get a look at him,

"baby look-"

you reached in between your legs, reaching into your core to collect your juices before extending your fingers out in front of his mouth.

"taste."

he stuck his tongue out, eyes meeting yours as you placed your wet fingers on his tongue. a grin spread on your lips as you watched him moan against your fingers, eyes rolling back into his head.

"good?"

he nodded quickly, mouth chasing your fingers as you pulled them away from his lips.

"now here-" you pointed to your core.

his tongue poked out to wet his lips, a small gulp running along his throat, "tell me if it's too much okay?"

you wanted to laugh at his question but your voice got caught in your throat, body going limp against his lap as he dove straight in.

"ji- jisung wait-" you gripped his thighs, moans leaving your lips as he lapped at your dripping core, tongue stiff against your clit. his hands were harsh against your hips, pulling your ass closer to his face, glasses pressing painfully against your supple skin.

you gripped his length, trying your best to also bring him some pleasure, but your forehead pressed against his pubic bone, eyes squeezed shut as he completely devoured you.

"jisung please- slow down- i- fuck."

he let go of your clit with a loud pop, fingers coming up to rub against your heat as he angled his head to look at you, "am i doing good? am i?"

you turned to face him. his glasses were foggy, pushed close against his face, swollen lips parted slightly awaiting your response.

"doing so good ji, just go a little-" he didn't get to hear the end of your response, ears zoning out as he got back to slurping at your juices.

jisung had never been a fan of sweets, but tasting you was almost addicting. everything else was a blur (partially due to his foggy glasses) the taste of you against his tongue turning his brain into mush.

he could cum like this alone, your hips moving gently against his tongue, your soft sounds filling his ears, but you were not a quitter. your hands wrapped tightly around his base as you forced yourself to remain steady, lips wrapping his aching length.

a smile spread on your lips as you felt him moan against your core, hips jutting up slightly against your mouth. you were quick to move against him, spit starting to collect in your mouth as you bobbed your head along his length.

he detached from your core, whiny moans leaving his lips as you picked up speed, sloppy noises of spit coming from below him,

"fuck- fuck- fuck- you're so good at that- fuck."

he pulled your hips down towards his face again, tongue flat against your heat. his grip tightened as he rocked your hips against his face, his groans vibrating against you as he pressed himself deeper into your cunt.

you moved your mouth away from him, spit helping your hands glide against his length as you jerked him off,

"ji- ji baby- yes- just like that-"

your body was now upright as pressed yourself onto jisung's face, his grip on your hips guiding you against his tongue. you rubbed yourself on him like your life depended on it, stomach tightening at the feeling of his stiff tongue grazing your swollen bud,

"so good baby- so good."

only deep groans could be heard from him as you continued to rock against him, using him to reach your high.

his glasses clattered against the bed as they fell off his face, giving jisung a new sense of freedom as he began to shake his head against your core, new vibrations radiating against you.

"keep- keep going ji- i'm gonna-"

he winced slightly as your grip on his length tightened almost painfully, your orgasm making your whole body tense above him. you fell against his lap again, loud moans leaving your lips as he eased you through your orgasm, soft hands massaging your ass as his tongue slowed against you.

if jisung thought you tasted good before, now he thought you tasted amazing. his tongue prodded at your pulsing hole, new juices flowing out of you. he sucked desperately, this new taste better than the last.

but his trance was short lived as he felt you pinch his thigh, your pained moans bringing him back to earth.

"jisung! jisung! too much, hurts, please."

he let out a nervous chuckle, hand coming up to scratch his head,

"s-sorry, you taste really good-"

your giggling made him flush, his sheepish personality coming back once again.

"that- that's a compliment! good taste of body fluids usually means good diet and hygiene! in my biology clas- oh!"

he threw his head back against your sheets as you lips wrapped around his tip, tongue swirling against the flushed skin.

"i don't give a fuck about your biology class jisung."

rude. but not like he cared, the rest of his biology class probably wasn't getting insane head.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

it's the next best thing - part two

part one || part three

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson || ~22k, complete || phone sex || accidental love confessions || there was only one bed || getting together || mutual pining || porn with plot || smut || wet & messy || friends with benefits || oral sex || rimming

This is part two of three of my gift for @eyesofshinigami for @steddieexchange!

Eddie gasps for breath, collapsed on the linoleum of the kitchen, hand still stuck in his pants and phone dangling off the line cord tickling his face as his ragged breathing makes it sway back and forth.

“What the fuck was that?” he says to the quiet of his trailer.

He knows what that was, still has the jizz cooling in his underwear and cock softening in his hand to prove it. He’d just never imagined that his not-so-innocent question would ever lead him to this. Even now, he’s not sure how it’d happened, doesn’t know what had caused Steve to use that tone of voice and hiss sinful things down the line.

He’d just been along for the ride, and now he’s here, shaking with aftershocks and chilled on the kitchen floor. Steve’s little, “same time tomorrow,” ringing through his head.

He gets up to shuffle into his bedroom, too wrung out to do more than wipe himself down with a dirty t-shirt and collapse into bed. They’ve talked five nights in a row by now, but Eddie’s always the one that calls, Steve on the other side of the line sounding begrudgingly entertained, but this? Steve had practically asked Eddie to call, right after talking him through one of the hottest orgasms of his life.

Does he want to do it again?

Sleep is a long time coming that night, leaving Eddie cranky and sulking into his mug of coffee as Wayne shuffles into the trailer after his graveyard shift.

“You’re up early,” Wayne says, collapsing onto the empty chair at the dining room table to remove his shoes with his usual bitching and grunting.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Eddie mumbles grumpily even as he gets up to pour Wayne his own mug.

Wayne takes a sip, humming in satisfaction after he swallows. Only once he’s put his mug down on the table does he pin Eddie with his piercing gaze. “D’ you want to talk ‘bout whatever’s goin’ on?” he asks, not even blinking as he waits for Eddie to answer.

Eddie’s never kept a secret from Wayne, even government-enforced NDA’s couldn’t shut him up. He’s not about to start now. “I had phone sex with Steve Harrington,” he blurts. He feels crazy, eyes wide and manic as he waits for Wayne to spout his wisdom and do what he always does when Eddie has a problem: fix it.

Instead, Wayne picks up his mug and takes another long sip, leaving Eddie to wait on tenterhooks as he savors his shitty cup of Folgers like the pope himself had made it. “Steve’s a good kid.”

Eddie stares, unblinking, long enough that his eyes start to dry out. “That’s it?” he demands, smacking his hand down on the table for emphasis, rattling both of their mugs, Eddie’s coffee sloshing off the edge.

“What d’ya want me to say?” Wayne replies, picking up his coffee, probably to save it from any more of Eddie’s antics. “You like this boy? Talk to him.”

He shouldn’t have expected anything else, really. Wayne’s been team Steve Harrington since he’d found out he’d single-handedly carried him out of a hellscape and put pressure on his wounds until Nancy had hauled ass all the way into the hospital bay.

Keep a guy’s guts inside his body one time, and apparently that’s all it takes to win the parental figure over.

“Wayne,” Eddie whines.

“It’d be one thing if he wasn’t your sort,” Wayne continues, standing up, coffee still in hand as he makes his way toward the bathroom. “But phone sex, Ed? Sounds pretty gay.”

Eddie splutters, mouth hanging open and face heating up as Wayne closes the bathroom door, the sound of the shower starting a moment later.

He should’ve never talked to Wayne.

Still, despite his ratcheting anxiety and sleep deprivation, once eight p.m. rolls around, Eddie calls.

“Thank you for calling Family Video,” Steve answers, but he must know it’s Eddie because his voice hits a lower register than usual. It’s almost…suggestive. “How can I help you?”

“Um!” Eddie squeaks out, face already aflame. “You said tomorrow, so…?”

Steve huffs but doesn’t answer, silence deafening across the line. Eddie stews, socked feet tapping silently against the floor as he waits. “And?” Steve finally asks.

Eddie mentally scrambles, trying to force a coherent thought into his brain. “And?” he asks, voice reedy. “And I—what? Oh!”

He clears his throat, and Steve huffs again. This time it sounds more like a laugh than like he’s exasperated with Eddie. “What are you wearing?” Eddie asks, holding his breath, hoping against hope that it was the right answer.

“Jeans, green sweater, vest, sneakers,” Steve lists out just like he usually does. Eddie lets his breath out, settling into his skin as they continue to wear in the grooves of their usual conversation. But then Steve’s voice drops low and he finishes with a pointed, “no underwear,” and Eddie’s left floating again.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, clutching the phone tightly as he sinks down to the floor, dick already hardening, only getting worse as Steve laughs. He slides his hand into his pants and grips himself. “At work?”

“No one’s here, baby,” Steve replies, still using that stupid fucking sultry tone that makes warmth pool in Eddie’s gut. “No one will know that just the thought of my dick has you touching yourself.”

“I’m—” I’m not, he wants to say. But he is, grip vice-like around his shaft as he listens to Steve laugh at him.

“You think I don’t know what it sounds like when you push your hand into your pants, Munson?” He asks, sharp, and mean, and so fucking hot that Eddie’s going to combust right here and now. “Your stupid belt’s loud, baby.”

Eddie can’t help the way he whines, hand stroking quickly, just once, like that’ll keep Steve from knowing what he’s doing. But his belt clinks, cuffs tinkling tellingly together, and Steve laughs again. Fuck, Steve’s right: his belt is loud.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, and he sounds soothing now, like Eddie’s a feral cat he’s trying to coax out from behind a dumpster. Eddie feels like one, like he’s one second away from snapping and scratching out someone’s throat. God, this is all such a bad idea. “You can touch yourself, Eddie.”

Eddie in Steve’s voice is worse than baby. It’s soft, sibilant, intimate. Eddie’s hand moves on his shaft, grip light as he closes his eyes and pictures Steve at the front counter of Family Video, big hand wrapped around the phone.

“What about you?” he asks, voice breathy as he continues to move his hand.

“I’m at work.” Steve sounds admonishing, like he thinks Eddie should’ve known better than to even ask. “You want me to get fired? Rather call Keith every night, have him tell you exactly how to fuck yourself?”

Eddie shudders again, grip tightening even as disgust fills him. “No,” Eddie says, and even to himself he sounds bratty. Petulant. Whiny.

“Besides, playing with you is more fun,” Steve whispers, like it’s a secret just between them.

Eddie’s grip tightens, hips jerking as he tries to get more leverage in the confines of his jeans, belt twanging with every minute shift. 

“So fucking loud,” Steve says again.

Shame hits him, pools in his gut. It’s like getting picked last in gym before he just stopped showing up, like being pushed into lockers before he hit his growth spurt and made himself the loudest predator in the school, like not graduating for the first time. 

“Sorry,” he gasps, cheeks hot as he lets go of his cock, desperate to get the belt off to stop the stupid fucking noise its making and get back to it. “I can take it off, let me just–”

“Stop,” Steve orders, and Eddie freezes, the flap of his belt out of the loops, metal clasp clutched between both his hands. “Leave it on.”

Eddie drops the clasp, it clasps noisily against itself, loud in the quiet of the trailer. He closes his eyes, still frozen, afraid to make another move, lest the sound of his fumbling travel down the line.  

“But, you said…” he starts before trailing off, unable to find the words.

“It’s loud,” Steve reaffirms, sending that same spike of shame in his gut. “But I want to hear you.” 

Eddie’s breath hitches, and his hand moves on instinct, wriggling back into his pants before going rigid when that same metallic clack twangs as his belt shifts. 

“That’s it,” Steve encourages, and his shame turns sharp and hot in his stomach, urging Eddie’s hand further into his pants until he’s got a hold of his cock again. “Let me hear you.”

Eddie moans, eyes closed, head tipped back against the cupboard as he listens to Steve breathe over the line. He’s moving his hand slowly, but his belt still rattles with every upward stroke.

“That’s it,” Steve says again, something dangerously close to awe in his voice. “Little faster now.”

Eddie does, following Steve’s directions without thought as he strokes himself faster, that stupid fucking metallic clanking speeding up right along with him. He squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, focusing on the feeling on his cock as he fucks his hand, trying to drown out his own sound with Steve’s heavy breathing.

“Faster,” Steve demands, and Eddie does it, the sound of his jingling belt growing quicker right along with him. “Fuck, listen to that.”

Eddie whines, speeding up again without Steve’s command, hips rising up off the floor with little aborted thrusts, his hand coming down to meet each thrust with a meaty thwack that does nothing to drown out the sound of his belt or the sound of his own panting. 

He gets lost in it, the feel of his own length in his hand, Steve’s words urging him on, heating him up from the inside out. He’s getting close, can feel that familiar warmth pooling in his gut, so close he can almost taste it in the back of his throat. 

Eddie can hear the familiar bell on Family Video’s front door jingle through the line, announcing someone’s entry. His hand freezes on his dick, breath stuck in his throat, like the customer will somehow be able to see him if he doesn’t stay still.

“Be right with you!” Steve calls, sounding cheerful and helpful, like he didn’t have Eddie on the knife’s edge of coming in his pants for the second time in just as many days. He’s quiet when he speaks again, words just for Eddie. “I want you to come for me, okay?”

“Steve,” Eddie gasps, but his hand’s already moving, stripping his cock with hard strokes. “Customer?”

He’s turned into a caveman, all one word questions and monosyllabic grunts, Steve’s words and Eddie’s own hand having done away with any higher brain function

“Fuck the customer,” Steve hisses, words so quiet Eddie can barely hear them. “Come on, baby, I want to hear it.”

Steve’s begging now, like all he wants is to listen to Eddie lose his mind, his own pleasure secondary to Eddie’s. Does he know Eddie’s collapsed on the kitchen floor, or does he think Eddie’s in bed, writhing between the sheets, as if he’d ever be able to afford his own line. 

He wants to reach into Steve’s brain and scoop out his thoughts, see himself through Steve’s imaginings. Eddie wants to know everything. 

And just like that, he’s close again, wishes Steve would live up to the promises he made last time and fill his mouth up with something else.

He’s almost there. He just needs, just—

“Come for me.”

Eddie shouts, loud enough to bother the neighbors as his dick spurts, tip peeking out of his jeans just enough to make a mess of his shirt, come painting white stripes against the black fabric. He strokes himself through it, keeping his grip firm until the overstimulation has him writhing, smacking his head painfully into the cupboard as he falls over, landing fully on the hard floor. 

He lost the phone in the race to the finish line, so once he has the wherewithal to remember it, he reaches out blindly, eyes too hazy to be at all helpful, until he finds it and drags it back to his ear.

“Steve?” Eddie asks, voice slurring. The line’s still active, but there’s no response, so he asks again, “Steve?”

Steve doesn’t answer, but he hears the sound of a woman’s voice, unintelligible and tinny, then Steve’s own laugh, louder, but still too far away from the receiver for him to be holding the phone. Eddie catches his breath, listening to bits of an indecipherable conversation happening all the way across town, hoping desperately that Steve hasn’t forgotten about him.

He hears Steve call, “have a good night!” loud enough for Eddie to make out, and then the distinct sound of the bell ringing, announcing the customer's departure. Then, Steve’s voice directly in his ear whispering, “holy shit, Eddie. That was so fucking hot.”

Eddie laughs, breathless and buzzed on Steve Harrington’s attention. God, he wasn’t going to survive this, no matter what Wayne said. But, what a fucking way to go.

He can’t wait.

***

Steve’s whole body is buzzing, dick hard in his jeans. At fucking work. Because Eddie Munson sounds like a porn star when he comes. He wants nothing more than to hustle into the bathroom and take care of himself, but he’s alone, and besides, Robin would kill him if she found out he’d jacked off in the bathroom while on shift.

He adjusts his dick in his pants, tucking it up unobtrusively in case someone else comes in, and he tries to think of anything besides what Eddie’s face must have looked like when he made that sound.

It doesn’t work.

There’s a steady stream of customers throughout the rest of the night, and Steve helps each and every one with a dick hard enough to hammer a nail in with. When he finally gets home, he’s barely through the front door before he’s shoving his hand into his pants and getting himself off, Eddie’s sinful sounds ringing through his ears.

He needs to talk to Robin.

Sunday is one of their rare remaining shared shifts. Keith takes the morning, but the nights are busy with people returning the weekend’s rental before the work week hits them where it hurts. He holds it in his mouth for the first few hours, Robin shooting him squinty-eyed looks between each customer interaction.

He’s waiting for the rush to die down, wants enough time to talk it all through, but as the bell jingles with another customer leaving, the store blessedly empty for the first time all night, it just comes out of his mouth.

“I had sex with Eddie,” Steve blurts.

Robin whips her head toward him so fast that he hears her neck crack. Her eyes are wide and a manic smile is creeping across her face, all her shiny white teeth on display. She looks like a shark and Steve, very suddenly, feels like a raw, bloody steak dropped into the water.

“No, I didn’t,” he says, wincing when that just makes Robin’s smile widen. Is she going to eat him? “I don’t know why I said that.”

There must be something in his voice because her smile droops as all that intensity goes into her eyes instead. She stares him down like she’s trying to find all the secrets of the universe in his eyes. Because it’s Robin, Steve stares right back, wondering what she’s picking up from his face.

“Is this a bathroom floor conversation?” Robin asks, already grimacing. She’s surprisingly squeamish when she’s not high out of her gourd and already covered in piss, vomit, and Steve’s blood.

Neither of them have ever mopped the bathroom floor, and there’s no way Keith has either.

Steve drops to the carpet behind the counter, pulling his knees up to his chest. They’ve never cleaned this floor either, but at least the chances of sitting on piss are lower out here. Robin’s still grimacing, but she drops down with him. Their knees knock together as Robin scoots forward, reaching out to interlace their fingers and piling all their hands atop Steve’s own knees.

“What’s going on, babe?” Robin asks in that sweet voice she only uses when she thinks Steve’s fragile. It always kind of makes him want to cry.

Steve looks down at their hands, attention caught by Robin’s thumb rubbing soothingly against his own, fingertip getting caught with each pass against the wrinkles of his knuckle. He keeps his gaze on her hands as he thinks of what to say. It feels safer, somehow, when he can see how soft she’s being with him.

“We had phone sex?” Steve says and it comes out like a question. Robin squeezes both his hands, biting her lip to keep her chatterbox tendencies contained. “Uh, twice. And it was—it was really good, Robin.”

“Yeah?” she asks, and when he looks up at her, she’s smiling again, a small, private thing that prompts him to finally open up his mouth and say what he really means.

“I really like him, Bobby.”

She squeezes his hand and scooches impossibly closer, like she wants to merge together and they can finally become one person like the kids are always joking. He moves right along with her, one mind in this, until their legs are locked, one wrong move away from one of them sitting in the other’s lap.

Steve doesn’t mind, can never quite get as close as he wants to with Robin. He’d climb into her skin if he could, and knows without having to ask that she’d let him.

“Does he like you?” she asks, quiet enough to be a secret shared between them in the empty store.

Steve looks back down at their hands and thinks about it. Eddie’s stuttering and shy on the phone, stammering over um’s and uh’s just as much as words. Does that mean anything besides him being shy? He sounds eager, too, every time Steve answers the phone. He always has, even before Steve had flipped the script from a joke to overtly sexual. But, he sounds just the same when he talks to Robin—Steve’s seen him walk into Family Video and light up at just the sight of her.

The bell on the door jingles, and because she’s the best, Robin lets go of his hands, pats his knee once, and jumps up to greet them, letting Steve stay out of sight beneath the counter as she assists them.

Does Eddie like him? As a friend, sure, and sexually, yeah, but the way Robin’s implying?

It spins around and around in his head, never quite reaching a coherent conclusion.

When the phone rings at eight, Steve dashes to it, picking it up, and giving his usual spiel, made shy with Robin’s twinkling eyes trained on him.

“Thank you for calling Family Video,” he says, unsurprised when it comes out breathy. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, I can think of a few ways you could help me,” Eddie says, voice suggestive right from the start.

Steve grins, all his worries melting away at the sound of Eddie’s voice. “Robin’s here,” he cautions.

“Ohh!” If anything, Eddie sounds excited, like Robin being here is a good thing, no matter what it means for his virtual sex life. “Put her on, Stevie.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but dutifully holds the phone away from his ear and drolly says, “phone for you.”

Robin speeds over, tripping over the computer’s cord, Steve’s outstretched arm the only thing stopping her from braining herself against the counter.

“Family Video,” she says, even though she, too, must know who it is by now.

Steve’s standing close enough that he can hear Eddie’s cheerful call of, “Birdie!” The rest of his words are lost to Steve, but they make Robin laugh, a quick burst of a thing, like what he said had shocked her.

“At work?” she says, looking at Steve with the put-upon air of scandal. “For shame, Steven.”

He scrambles for the phone, trying to wrench it from her hand until they’re in an all-out brawl that ends with the cord tangled around their bodies, trapping them so they’re pressed together chest to chest. “Give it,” Steve pleads, finally snatching the receiver from her hand and pressing it to his ear, hissing as she grabs a hunk of his hair and yanks.

“You told her,” Steve demands down the line.

Eddie sputters, “I—you—she—“ he stumbles over each word, sputtering in a way that’s almost as fun as it was last night. “I just said I’d hoped to talk to you alone!”

“Oh,” Steve says, looking down at Robin’s beat up converse, eyes glazing over as he realizes—“I told her.”

“Steven,” Eddie says, voice so close to Robin’s own irate tone that Steve can’t help but laugh, heart full. “Why would you do that?”

He’s whining  now, and Steve’s grinning about it, can’t help it. He leans toward Robin, hunching down the tiniest bit to hook his chin over her shoulder, safely ensconced in their phone cord cocoon. “It’s Robin,” Steve replies like that answers everything.

Eddie’s quiet on the other side of the line for a moment before he huffs and mutters a quiet, “fair enough.”

Steve smiles, digging his chin into her shoulder just to make her squeal and try to get away. But, they’re still tied together, so she’s bungee-corded right back into him and they both go down in a tangle of limbs and phone cord, knees rammed in places they should never go.

The phone’s been flung a few feet away, Eddie’s tinny voice coming through the speaker asking, “Steve? Did you guys die? Steeeeeevie?”

He’s in the middle of crawling toward it when the front door jingles and he freezes, abdominals working to keep him upright with one arm and one leg stalled out mid-crawl. Behind him, Robin’s also gone deadly silent and Steve knows they’re both thinking the same thing: if they stay absolutely still, maybe whoever has entered the store won’t even see them.

But, then Eddie’s voice calls out “Robin? Anyone?” And if they can hear it this clearly, he must have shouted loud enough to wake up the entire trailer park. Steve turns his head slowly enough that he can feel the stretch of each vertebrate as he finally faces the front door.

There, Mrs. Carruthers stands, staring down at him, nose upturned and wrinkled like she smells something bad. Steve meets her eyes and she sniffs audibly with disdain before disappearing into the shelves.

Steve drops his raised arm and leg and crawls the three quick strides to the discarded phone, dragging a tangled Robin behind him.

When he picks it up, Eddie’s humming loudly, like his new plan is to annoy them into speaking. Steve hates himself a little for finding it endearing. “Uh, Eddie?” he whispers, and the humming cuts out entirely. Steve keeps his eyes peeled for Mrs. Carruthers, unwilling to be caught in a compromising position by her again. “We’ll have to talk to you later, okay?”

“Uh, okay?” Eddie replies, more question than affirmative response, but at this point, he’ll take it.

He drops the phone, and as one, Steve and Robin jump up, hopping around each other to disentangle themselves from the cord as fast as possible. She trips and goes down on her knees, but she’s freed herself from the cord by now, so Steve spins himself free and dashes for the front desk, slamming the phone into the cradle right as Mrs. Carruthers rounds the shelves once more, tape secured in her hand.

Steve smiles his best customer service smile and asks, “Will that be all?”

From where she’s still on the dirty carpet, hidden from view beneath the desk, Robin snorts.

***

Before the phone line disconnects, Eddie listens to the weirdest set of sounds he’s ever heard. There’s a crash that he can only guess is Steve dropping the phone, then there’s some contextless rustling and grunting that goes on for an alarmingly long time. When the dial tone finally rings down the line, Eddie pulls the phone back to stare at it, perplexed.

“What the fuck?” he mutters before finally hanging it up.

The trailer’s quiet—he’d been happy when he thought there was something risqué on the menu, but now that it’s just him, he wishes Wayne was here. Or Robin, or Steve, anyone to fill the silence. Eddie pats his own crotch, mutters a quiet, “sorry, buddy,” to his disappointed dick, and goes to find something else to do.

He fills his night with campaign planning and the devil’s lettuce, the next day with breakfast with Wayne and fucking off so the old man can get some sleep. But that night, he calls Family Video and gets Steve all to himself.

He calls again the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that. He just keeps calling, and Steve always sounds excited to talk to him. Even when he’s at work giving himself his very own pair of blue balls. Or when Robin’s loitering around and all they can do is shoot the shit until the next customer walks in.

It’s enough to give him a complex.

But, they don’t hang out. Steve drives Dustin to Hellfire, held in the Wheeler’s basement now that Eddie’s finally snatched his diploma with both hands. He waves at Eddie where he’s making his way up the drive, smiling like a PTA mom dropping off their kid for a play date.

He doesn’t come inside.

There’s a movie night at Steve’s house, all the kids in a heap on the floor, Nancy and Jonathan sharing the same space in the Harrington’s only recliner, and Robin, Steve, and Eddie all piled onto the couch, Steve in the middle. The scant inches between his and Eddie’s thighs feel like the Mariana Trench.

They laugh and they joke, and it’s all exactly like it was before, like Eddie isn’t calling Steve every night to fuck his own fist to Steve’s surprisingly salacious words.

Eddie’s unraveling at the seams—something piteous and yawning opening up in his heart. He tries not to look too closely at it, doesn’t want to put a name to the feeling lest he ruin this one, shining thing.

Still, when Wayne asks, “you alright, boy?” one night, Eddie blurts, “I’m going to invite Steve over,” like it was inevitable. Like, somewhere in the recesses of his brain, he’s been plotting this, unbeknownst to himself.

Eddie’s more surprised than Wayne is. The old man just snorts, keeps lacing his shoes, running late for his shift as he replies, “make sure I ain’t here for that one, will you?”

“Wayne,” Eddie gasps. “This is how you support me in my time of need?”

“What need?” Wayne says, pulling his lace tight and double knotting it before standing with a groan. “Y’already like each other, don’t ya? People who like each other usually spend time together.”

Eddie gapes at his retreating back, sputtering on retorts that won’t quite come until he finally asks, “he likes me?” to the already-closed door. When he rushes over to it and peers out into the dark of Forest Hills, Wayne’s already in his truck, high-beams blinding Eddie where he stands. “We like each other?”

Wayne backs out, either having not heard Eddie at all, or deciding to ignore his nephew entirely.

It’s raining—Eddie spends a long time staring at the water dripping erratically off the roof, getting stuck in the leaves clogging the gutters.

When he goes inside, he calls the Buckley residence. Robin’s number is written on its own piece of paper stuck to the fridge, with Steve’s beside it, too sacred to hold any other information on it. Robin’s mom answers, but dutifully calls for her daughter, who picks up the phone, already sounding annoyed as she asks who’s calling.

Eddie ignores her question entirely, instead asking, “When’s Steve’s next day off?”

Robin snorts derisively. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Buckley,” Eddie replies, definitely not whining. She sighs, and he can feel her wearing down already, so he asks, “please?”

It’s silent for long enough on the other line that Eddie worries he’d read her wrong, that she wasn’t going to respond at all, but just as he opens his mouth to continue wheedling her, she says, “tomorrow,” and just as Eddie fist bumps, she continues, “you finally going to make a move?” and Eddie’s back to incoherently sputtering.

She laughs at him, and he reflexively hangs up only to pace erratically back and forth for the next hour, psyching himself up. They’re friends, he can invite Steve over. That’s what friends do, don’t they? Steve can sit on Eddie’s couch, they can watch a movie, or get high, or just chat.

He’d take anything if it meant Steve would be here, smiling at him, no Robin or kids as a buffer.

But when he calls that night, Eddie doesn’t say a word. He just listens to Steve whisper sinful things down the line, fisting his cock, eyes closed so he can pretend it’s not his own hand getting him there. It’s Steve—standing in the kitchen, close enough that his breath sends puffs of air against Eddie’s neck, hand a warm brand on him as he’s tugged to completion.

And when the line disconnects, Eddie stares down at his own spent dick and sighs.

If there’s anything Eddie Munson has always been, it’s a fucking coward.

*** 

The phone rings, and it’s a few hours early, so Steve doesn’t expect Eddie to be on the other line. 

“Do you want to come over?” Eddie asks, leaving off his usual greeting entirely. “I rented Hellraiser, and Wayne didn’t want to watch it with me so…?”

Steve had already watched it with Robin during one of their shifts, pausing it quickly anytime a customer came in and giggling at all the overtly sexual scenes. So, he’s doubtful that Eddie ever planned to watch it with Wayne unless he’d heard absolutely nothing about the movie and failed to even read the synopsis on the back.

“Sure, what time?” Steve asks, not bothering to call him out on his lie. After all, if there’s anything that’ll pop this celibate bubble they’re living in, it’s watching that movie pressed together on the Munson’s couch.

“Uh, now? Whenever you can?” Eddie asks, sounding so much like an eager puppy that Steve grins. “Wayne’s got a double shift so he won’t be back until morning.”

Steve’s heard that same line from enough girls that he’s sure he knows where this night is heading. Excitement bubbles up within him, palms aching to reach out, to finally be able to touch.

“Alright, want me to bring anything?” Steve asks,

“Just yourself!” Eddie tries, all strained cheer. Maybe he’s more nervous than even Steve is. He hangs up before Steve can decide how to respond.

Steve puts the phone in the cradle and turns ideas over in his head. There’s his pair of jeans that even Robin says make his ass look good. Maybe a sweater to soften the effect? But, that’s not really Eddie’s aesthetic, is it? Should he wear black, or would that look like he’s trying too hard.

He stares into his wardrobe, unblinking, brain ticking away at all the options before he turns away, unchanged, and heads to the bathroom to check his hair. Once every hair is perfectly in place, he shoves his socked feet into his sneakers, not even bothering to untie them.

Come as you are is the general expectation for staying in with a friend. And that’s what he and Eddie are—friends. The same thing is expected from a booty call. Either way, he’s dressed perfectly. Putting in extra effort is for dates, and as he has to repeatedly remind himself on the drive over, this isn’t a date.

It’s not.

Steve regrets his decision when he knocks on the Munson’s front door and Eddie stares down at his faded long-sleeved Hawkins High swim t-shirt and old gray sweatpants with a piercing look he can’t read.

“Uh, hey?” Steve says, shuffling uncomfortably on the front step as Eddie shakes himself like a dog and comes back to life.

He’s smiling now, cheeks pink from the cold as he takes a step back, and gestures Steve inside. “Come in, man!” he cries, voice too-loud in the dark of the trailer park.

Steve steps past him, forearm brushing the arm Eddie’s using to prop the door open. As he closes the door behind them, Steve swears he can hear Eddie’s breath catch.

“So, movie?” Steve asks, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, waiting for Eddie to lead him into the living room. Steve dawdles by the couch as Eddie pushes the tape into the player, waiting to see where he’ll sit.

“Have you seen this one yet?” Eddie asks as he settles into his usual seat at the end of the couch.

Robin’s not here, but Steve still plops himself down on the middle cushion, letting his legs spread into Eddie’s space.

“Robin and I had it on when it first hit the shelves.”

Eddie makes a strange, wounded noise, and when Steve glances over at him, he’s staring down at Steve’s knee, wringing his hands. “We can watch something else?”

Steve nudges his knee even farther into Eddie’s space, knocking them together. Eddie’s breath catches and doesn’t start up again until Steve pulls back. “Nah, we watched it at work so I missed some of it.”

Eddie nods jerkily and turns back to the screen. They watch in silence. While Steve’s leaning back into the couch, lounging the way he always does at movie nights, Eddie’s sitting ramrod straight, like someone might come along and grade him on the curvature of his spine.

Steve sits, waiting for Eddie to make a move, but he just—doesn’t. There isn’t even a popcorn bowl they can accidentally brush hands in, or flirty conversation to be had.

Even as Frank and Julia fuck on the screen, Eddie doesn’t reach out. He just blushes and presses himself more firmly into the corner of the couch.

Steve might have misread this situation.

He watches the movie, the space separating their bodies aching like a missing limb, fingers flexing against his own thighs with the desire to reach out. He’s spent so long hearing the sounds Eddie makes that he can’t help wanting to see, wanting to touch.

But, Steve’s used to disappointment; he’s used to making the best out of the unrequited. He can do it again.

The movie ends, and Steve’s ready to make his excuses, get the hell out of here with his remaining shreds of dignity, but Eddie beats him to it.

“Wanna stay the night?” he asks, and when Steve looks back over at him, he’s slouching into the couch now, gaze still trained on the TV as the credits play out on the screen, like Steve’s answer doesn’t matter at all.

Steve’s beginning to suspect he’s misread the situation, again as he watches Eddie literally twiddling his thumbs, unable to meet Steve’s eyes.

“Uh, sure,” Steve replies, and Eddie turns to him, smiling so brightly, like Steve’s continued presence in his home is a gift.

Steve’s heart flops around in his chest, pitter-pattering away as he follows Eddie into his bedroom. There’s something blooming in his chest, bright and hopeful, and dangerous.

It feels alarmingly close to love.

*** 

His bed’s not big, so when Steve climbs in beside him, both settled onto their backs, Steve’s forearm presses against his own. The point of contact burns—Eddie doesn’t know whether he wants to press into it or jerk away, scalded, but Steve doesn’t move, so neither does he.

No one’s ever been in his bed before.

The scant inches between their bodies feel like miles. Eddie wants to reach past them, let their fingers tangle together. He wants to touch so badly that he has to clench his fingers into the fabric of his t-shirt to stop himself from moving.

Eddie’s room is as dark as it ever gets, his flimsy curtains muffling the brightness of his neighbors porch light. If he squints, he can make out the Steve shaped lump beneath the covers.

He feels like he’s suffocating in the oppressive silence of his room, breaths stuttering as he tries to keep them inaudible, heartbeat rabbiting damn-near out of his chest as Steve lays there immobile, making no sound at all.

It’s so quiet that when Steve sighs, long and low as he settles more firmly into the pillows, Eddie jumps at the unexpected sound. Unlike the sweet sighs Steve had let slip over the phone on their nightly calls, Steve sounds frustrated, disappointed even.

It’s that sound that gets Eddie’s hand creeping across the scant inches between them, moving slowly, like if he’s careful, Steve won’t even realize what he’s doing. The first touch is against Steve’s hip, grazing the fabric of Steve’s sweatpants. 

He presses down firmer, feeling the warm body beneath the fabric, and that’s what makes Steve inhale sharply, body jerking. Eddie freezes, fingers trembling as he waits for Steve to say something, to get up and leave, to do anything.

He stays right where he is, slumping further into Eddie’s mattress, springs squeaking as his weight shifts.

Holding his breath, Eddie lets his shaking hand press more fully into Steve’s hip, moving slowly across Steve’s body until it’s tucked beneath his shirt, fingers just barely brushing against bare, heated skin.

Steve jolts again, and Eddie snatches his hand back and cradles it against his own chest like it's a wounded bird, sure that Steve will get up and leave. He’d been fine talking Eddie through orgasms over the phone, but this is one step too far. This is real—Eddie’s hands touching Steve’s skin, meaningless words given weight.

Eddie closes his eyes, unwilling to watch Steve’s shadow detach itself from the bed and slink out of his room like a dirty secret.

It’s a surprise when instead, Steve’s weight shifts, springs squeaking as he rolls over until he’s pushing Eddie into the mattress. Eddie’s eyes fly open, legs falling open on instinct as Steve settles between them, pressing down with enough force that there’s no way he’ll miss how hard Eddie already is. 

But then he grinds down with intent and Eddie can feel Steve’s own erection pressing into his hip. He adjusts, lining their bodies up until all that’s separating them is two thin pairs of sweatpants.

The whine that escapes Eddie’s throat is embarrassing. He tries to cover his own mouth to keep it in, but Steve grabs his wrist and pulls it off his face, linking their fingers as he traps Eddie’s hand against the mattress.

“Wanna hear you,” he says, breaking the seal of silence that had shrouded his bedroom.

Eddie bites his lip against the next noise, at Steve’s mercy as he continues moving against him, grinding hard enough that Eddie’s sweatpants start to chafe. He doesn’t care, never wants Steve to stop no matter how much it hurts.

“Come on, baby,” Steve says, bending over him to bite into the meat of Eddie’s shoulder as he ruts down. Eddie’s lip jumps free from between his teeth as he groans, low and almost painful with the force of its vibration. “Yeah, just like that.”

Steve lets go of Eddie’s hand, leaving him bereft until his arms snake around Eddie’s shoulders pulling him closer as Steve buries his face in the crook of his neck. On impulse, Eddie puts his hands on Steve’s hips, pulling him down faster and harder. The bed’s shaking enough that Eddie’s worried his headboard smacking into the wall will break right through the shitty plaster.

They’re loud—his bedroom full of enough lewd sounds that he wishes he’d had a tape recording it so he could play it again and again. The sound of his own embarrassing moans, the way Steve’s breathing has gone erratic, the squeaking of Eddie’s old mattress. He feels drunk off it, mouth hanging open and drooling as he loses himself in it.

This is nothing like the few rushed hand jobs he’s had in Indy. The way Steve’s breaths hit Eddie’s bare skin feels intimate, the way his hands hold onto Eddie like he’s trying to merge them together.

He can feel himself unraveling thrust by thrust, entire body tingling from the tip of his dick to the molars in the back of his mouth.

“Steve,” Eddie gasps out, on the precipice of something he’s not sure he’ll survive, smothered by Steve’s weight and still needing more.

Like that’d been all he was waiting for, Steve leans back, untangling one of his arms from around Eddie to slide his hand into Eddie’s tacky sweatpants, fingers barely closing around Eddie’s cock before he’s gone, lost to the best orgasm of his entire life.

***

Eddie’s quiet when he comes—Steve’s not even sure he’s breathing as he writhes. Steve keeps his grip firm as he strokes him through it, enraptured by the view of the other boy beneath him. His curly hair is pillowed around him, blending into the shadows of Eddie’s sheets. His mouths open and a silent shout as Steve milks him for everything he’s worth, not stopping until the last spurt of hot come has landed on the back of Steve’s hand, and the look of ecstasy on Eddie’s face begins transforming into pain.

Half of Eddie’s come rubs off on the inside of Steve’s sweats as he shoves the now-free hand into his own pants and wraps it around his cock. He doesn’t ease himself into it, fist moving furiously on his dick as he watches Eddie’s eyes squint open beneath him before they pop wide as he realizes what Steve’s doing.

“Holy shit, Steve,” he says, reaching trembling hands out and clutching onto Steve’s hips to pull him even closer, fingers slipping beneath his rucked-up shirt until his fingernails dig into bare skin. “Yeah, yeah, you’re so hot.”

He says it all on one whispered breath, like he doesn’t realize he’s speaking at all, too busy staring down at the way Steve’s sweats tent around his dick, moving quickly as he fucks his own fist. Steve moans, the words and the scrutiny making heat pool in his blood.

It’s only a few more strokes before Steve’s groaning, eyes closed against the feeling tearing through him as he makes a mess inside his sweats. Steve pants, free hand pressed against Eddie’s ribs to keep himself upright, clenching into the fabric of his t-shirt as he tries to catch his breath.

When he has the energy to open his eyes again, Eddie’s still staring up at him reverently, clenching so hard against his hipbones that Steve’s pretty sure he’ll need to pry them off.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says again.

Steve throws his head back and laughs, too high on endorphins to regulate anything. Eddie’s fingers clench against his hips, bringing him closer together and inadvertently sending an overstimulated shiver through Steve as his spent dick is pressed against the inside of his pants.

“Yeah,” Steve says, panting from sex, and laughter, and whatever emotion is sending fireworks bursting through his sternum. “Holy shit.”

Even if his reputation has always been overblown, Steve’s had a lot of sex with a lot of people. It’s never felt like this—like if he doesn’t see the look on his partner’s face as they come, he might die. Like his own dick barely matters, just the sounds his partner makes getting him halfway there.

It’s been a long time since he’s wanted to stay after.

He drops down, slumping onto Eddie’s chest before he rolls to the side, staring up at the shadows drifting across Eddie’s bedroom ceiling. With a good orgasm comes the crash—Steve’s is hitting him quick, pulling him down, down, down, no matter how rapidly Steve blinks his eyes.

“Stevie?” Eddie asks, continuing when Steve grunts in return, “you still awake?”

He closes his eyes, whispers a quiet, “mmmhmm,” even as his body slackens, arm slung over Eddie’s waist, head becoming one with the corner of Eddie’s pillow, close enough that Eddie’s breathing is ruffling the hair on Steve’s head.

“Sure you are, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers.

As he falls into a blissfully deep sleep, Steve swears he can feel Eddie’s dry lips pressed to his sweaty forehead.

***

Eddie’s still out of breath from the best sex of his life, and Steve’s inexplicably already passed out. In his bed. In his arms, using half his pillow like that’s where his head has always belonged. Eddie bends down and presses a kiss to his forehead. If anything, Steve’s breath gets deeper, like a reverse sleeping beauty where Eddie’s kiss has only sent Steve into a deeper sleep.

His heart’s beating erratically, lodging itself in his throat; either this is what love feels like, or he’s having a heart attack. Regardless, his next actions are obvious. He paws blindly toward his extra pillow abandoned at the other side of the bed, strips the pillowcase off, and pushes it into his own pants, wiping the tacky come from his skin. His pants are still wet, so he rubs at them as well, getting as much off as he can lest they stick to his skin and rip his pubes out later.

Once that’s done, he stares at Steve’s peaceful face. It’s outlined in shadows in the dark, but even with the dim light, Eddie can see the dark stain on the front of his sweats. Not giving himself enough time to think further, Eddie pushes the still-clean side of the pillowcase into Steve’s pants.

He freezes when Steve’s breath stutters, knuckles barely brushing Steve’s soft skin as he waits for him to settle once more.

He’s gentle, wiping in small circular motions at warm skin. Steve doesn’t wake, pliant and trusting in Eddie’s sheets as he cleans him up. He wants to look, so badly, that his mouth’s watering with it, but he keeps Steve’s sweats at his hips, covering all that tantalizing skin.

Steve groans, a small, barely-there breath leaving him as Eddie pulls his hand out of Steve’s pants, the other boy now as clean as Eddie can make him without crossing any lines. 

The pillowcase is wet, both of their spends mixing in its fabric, heady with sweat and come. Eddie wants to put it in his mouth, suck the fabric until it’s clean, but like looking, that feels like a step too far. The smell hits him though, gets stuck in his nose and makes its home there.

He wants to put it back on the pillow, and sleep on it all night, the tacky fabric sticking to his face, rubbing all over him until it reeks of sex and Steve Harrington.

Little Eddie gives a valiant twitch, but Eddie would rather die than to get up right now to take care of him.

He throws the pillowcase across the room and shares the pillow Steve’s head is already on, the other boy pressed into his side, still sleeping soundly despite all Eddie’s twisting and turning. His skin’s warm and soft curled against Eddie’s own.

He presses another kiss to Steve’s head and resigns himself to a long, futile night of trying to sleep.

It smells like bacon when he wakes up. Eddie opens his eyes, squinting against the sunlight filtering through the curtains, eyes hazy with too few hours closed. Still, he zombie-shuffles his way out of his bedroom, eyes half mast as he stumbles into the kitchen.

Wayne’s sitting at the kitchen table, Steve across from him, talking around forkfuls of food.

“Um?” Eddie says, blinking dazedly as they both turn to him, still smiling.

“Ed,” Wayne says, gesturing Eddie forward with his fork. Eddie follows its movement with his eyes and body, reeled in by that delicious smell. “Your boy made breakfast.”

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, half-asleep and unarmored beside the kitchen table.

Steve laughs, and it fizzes through him like a morning coffee, jolting his synapses to life. “I’ll get you a plate.”

Steve jumps up and rushes to get a plate from the correct cupboard before standing in front of the stove and dishing Eddie up like he does this every morning–like he belongs there. Eddie stares at him, the way his strong shoulders flex beneath his wrinkled t-shirt, how his hair’s fucked up in the back, the way he’s wearing a pilfered pair of Eddie’s own sweats because his had been—

“Boy, sit down,” Wayne orders, and Eddie drops into a chair, a marionette that’s lost the plot of its show.

He’s still wearing the pants he’d fucked Steve Harrington in. They’re stuck to his pubes even after his half-assed clean-up attempt last night. Eddie shifts in his seat, not daring to look down and see if there are any visible stains. It’s too late, and that would just draw Wayne’s eyes right down to where he least wants them to be.

Steve turns back around, plate heaping with hash-browns, scrambled eggs, bacon crisped to perfection, and a perfect golden brown piece of toast. It’s still steaming, made recently enough that everything’s still hot. He stares down at the offering before looking back up at Steve.

He’s having another heart attack.

“Eat your breakfast, Eddie,” Steve says, picking up his own fork again and scooping some eggs onto his toast before taking a large bite.

Eddie follows his lead.

The food’s just as delicious as it looks. Eddie loses himself in it, each mouthful tastes like all the mornings with Steve that this moment could lead to. Steve in front of the stove, making whatever he wants, towel over his shoulder to wipe away any runaway butter. Eddie coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist, burying his unshaved face into his neck and burrowing in just to make him laugh and swat him away.

Eddie will learn to make eggs that aren’t rubbery, if that’s what Steve wants. He’ll make a thousand failed eggs until he gets it just right.

“Don’t like your food?”

Eddie jumps, egg speared on his fork jumping right along with him, falling off his utensil and splattering into his coffee. It’s Wayne who spoke, but his eyes go to Steve first. Steve who’s sending furtive looks his way every few seconds, even as he continues sipping on his own egg-free coffee. He doesn’t meet Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie drops his fork with a clatter, grabs his piece of toast, and crams half of it in his mouth. “It’s delicious,” Eddie says, crumbs spraying out of his mouth.

He doesn’t care about the fucking food. He’d eat sawdust if Steve served it to him.

Steve wrinkles his nose, but he’s smiling again, and finally looks up, gaze warm as he looks at Eddie.

Eddie swallows the toast in his mouth. It hurts his throat going down, not chewed enough to ease the way, but Steve’s smile ramps up into a grin when Eddie takes another bite, so it’s worth it. He even drinks the fucking egg coffee down to the dregs, swallowing the egg at the bottom whole lest he accidentally taste it.

And when he walks Steve to the front door later that morning, they both linger at the threshold, even though Steve’s already running late for his shift.

The trailer’s duller once the beemer drives off, taking Steve along with it.

Eddie sighs, not at all lovelorn.

“Oh boy,” Wayne mutters.

“What?” Eddie whines, turning to glare at Wayne, hands on his hips.

Wayne snorts, getting up and shuffling off to get ready for bed, leaving Eddie to clean up the mess. “I ain’t getting involved in this, boy,” he calls, turning back to smirk at Eddie. “You’ll figure it out.”

Then he just shuts the bathroom door, leaving Eddie to pine away the hours until he can talk to Steve.

According to Jeff’s mom’s Cosmo, you’re supposed to wait three days to call a girl after a first date. But, Steve’s not a girl, and this wasn’t a date, and Eddie’s never played anything cool in his entire life. So, when eight p.m. strikes, he’s going to call.

He always will, as long as Steve keeps answering. Maybe even if he doesn’t.

part three

[r1m4nc3rre]

#ADORE YOU

"I'd walk through fire for you, just let me adore you."

- adore you, harry styles

player 120 | cho hyun-ju x female reader

cont. fluff, light angst

DEEP down, you knew she's the one. The person who you want to spend your life with till you take your last breath.

Cho Hyun-ju is an angel sent from above you're certain. It doesn't matter what other people say— you don't care.

They wouldn't understand you.

They would never see her the way you see her.

They'd never feel the bliss of knowing you now belong to the woman you've pursued for so long despite the hate you received from others.

But they're not your priority. Your priority is none other than the love of your life, Cho Hyun-ju.

You turn your attention to your girlfriend, admiring her every move as she works through the kitchen, making breakfast for the both of you. Seeing her skillfully flip the pancakes, you couldn't help but awe at how talented she is.

Some might say it's basic skills, but to you, it's not. That's a talent.

Unable to hold yourself back, you slowly made your way in her behind without her noticing, you held her in a tight embrace.

You felt her tremble, obviously startled at the sudden hug, making you giggle, "Sorry, babe. Did I surprise you?"

Cho Hyun-ju's thoughts were preoccupied while she was flipping the pancakes. The sudden hug she received from behind almost made her instinctively defend herself.

But then, she heard your giggling voice.

Hyun-ju released a sigh of relief, setting the spatula she was holding aside. She turned around, her face coming into your view.

Her eyes drifted from your eyes down to your swollen lips, to your neck littered with fresh red marks. Just the sight of them made her vividly recall everything that happened last night. She almost felt sorry for you— but then she remembered it was you who begged her to do it. But she couldn't help but feel sorry for you.

Maybe, she should've at least held back a little.

Hyun-ju had the urge to kiss those lips of yours again. But to her disappointment, the sound of your phone ringing echoed through the kitchen, interrupting the intimate moment the two of you were sharing.

Her eyes drifted to the table, her gaze stuck at the name of the caller being displayed on the screen of your phone.

It's that bastard, Su-bong.

You met him once at the baby shower of your best friend, Jun-hee. The asshole started flirting with you despite Hyu-ju being with you all the time.

Ever since he learned your name, he wouldn't stop bothering you.

Although you already rejected the man multiple times, telling him you have a girlfriend, he seems to not care at all as he remained persistent on pestering you. And you were starting to lose your patience. Especially when the man just ruined your moment with your partner.

Pulling away from Hyun-ju, you picked up your phone, declining the call.

Wait, did you just block the guy?

You nodded your head in satisfaction, regretting that you didn't do it much sooner.

"There, no more interruption."

You turned around, returning back to your previous position as if it's where you should be— which is right in her arms.

Then you see it, the hesitation in those beautiful eyes of hers. Was she doubting herself again?

You were offended that she'd think you'll like someone like him. But the thought of her doubting herself made you frown in discontent— not from her, but to yourself.

How dare you let your girlfriend doubt and think negatively about herself?

Moving your arms to the side of her head, you pushed her thoughts away, confessing to her with your outmost sincerity, "Cho Hyun-ju, I've loved you from the moment I first laid my eyes on you, and nothing could ever change that."

You out your hands to her cheeks, staring with deep intense in her eyes.

"I don't care about those other people— you're the one I love, not anyone else."

She teared up at your words, leaning closer to you. Her bright eyes expressing how happy and loved she felt at your words.

The vulnerability she's showing you at the moment urged to kiss her right now. To express your feelings not only by words, but also action.

And you did.

Your lips touched hers, temporarily stoping yourself from breathing.

Sharing a passionate kiss, you couldn't care less about anything else in the world when your most prioritized person is in front of you. You treated the kiss like air, needy and desperate for more.

To your dismay, Hyun-ju suddenly had to pull away, allowing the two of you to breathe.

Gasping, you frowned, smelling something unusual coming from the kitchen.

"Is it me or I smell something burning?"

- fin -

© r1m4nc3rre 01|01|2025

[zevrra]

this drabble is inspired by this ask!! (viktor vers. coming soon!)

[mdní, 18(+), college au, ns//fw, jayce x gn!reader, suggestive penëträtion]

studying with jayce was usually very productive. the two of you worked very well together, especially when it came to solving problems when the other couldn’t figure it out. you two were so in tune sometimes so when both of you got stuck on an equation, neither of you could solve, you decided to entertain yourselves with something far more…physical.

which is how you ended up on your hands and knees, face dangerously close to being squished into the bed as jayce fucks you from behind. one of his hands has a tight grip on your hip for stability as he dives rapidly into you. he places kisses along your spine in time with his well placed thrusts. “feel so good.” he’d whisper between each kiss that he places; chuckling at how you groan and tighten around him at his words.

he straightens up then, his hips faltering for a single moment; and you just assume he’s repositioning himself…that is until you feel something scratch lightly across your back. your brows furrow, maybe you just imagined it, but no there it is again…and it continues as jayce slowly stops moving.

no way. was he doing what you thought he was doing? no…not when…really?

“jayce talis are you solving that damn equation on my back right now?”

jayce completely comes to a stop just as the feathering on your back also stops. you hear jayce slightly laugh, nervously, while his grip loosens against your hip. “i’m sorry! i just solved it in my head suddenly and, and i had to write it down before i forgot it!” he stammers, apologizing for his moments distraction, before tossing the pen off the bed in an attempt to get rid of the evidence.

you sigh, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. he was so stupid and smart all at the same time and god you loved and hated him for it. but laughing would be saved for after you got to finish this. “jayce…take a picture, quickly, and then please forget about everything else that doesn’t involve you fucking me.” you hum in response. and you didn’t even need to turn around to know that jayce’s face was most likely bright red at being caught red handed. the thought makes you shake your head as he quickly scrambles for a picture before returning back to the moment you two were sharing.

“sorry…” jayce apologizes, sounding like a kicked puppy. he places an apologetic kiss against your shoulder before trailing them back down to your spine.

you finally laugh, softly, at his words. of course the brilliant man that jayce was; would think about equations while his dick was hard. so ridiculous but it made you enjoy this even more somehow. “don’t worry. you’re too cute to be mad at anyway. just move those hips again, pretty boy.”

and like a good boy, jayce does as he is told. saving the problem solving for later.

[dtchloedecker]

Chloe furrowed her brow. "Lucifer, you had NOTHING to do with me getting poisoned," she said. "We agreed that you save the students and I'd go after the professor." She never understood how Lucifer was able to save those boys and now she knew; celestial tolerance. "It was ENTIRELY his fault. He was the one who stuck a needle in me and poisoned me, not you. I hope you see that now." Some things about the whole thing with Candy were confusing, but she decided she'd ask about it another time. "So, you're saying that your marriage to Candy was just a marriage on paper? Then why bring her to the precinct if you didn't mean to hurt me? Because we were heading towards something and then you ghosted me for two weeks and then came back with her and friendzoned me. I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I'm just trying to understand."

She smiled and kissed him again after he said he wanted to be with her. "I wanna be with you, too," she said. "But, again let's take things slow. And also I don't wanna tell anyone about us yet because then they'll stick their noses in it and I want this to be just ours for a while, you know?" There was something else she wanted to tell him, since he was honest with her. "And about Pierce...I never loved him. I thought I did, but I did a lot of thinking and I realized that I never did. I thought I did, but it turns out that I was only with him to move on from you. Hell, when he asked me out, I told him yes after you left my house for a batchelorette party at Lux instead of.....it doesn't matter now. My point is that I thought that Pierce was probably going to be the best I could do. So, I understand why you were with Eve all this time now."

She laughed when he booped her nose. "Don't touch my nose!" she shrieked jokingly. "Okay, you know what? You wanna kiss me? YOU make it happen. Because I keep trying, but apparently you'd rather talk, soooo...." She turned away from him, looked back over her shoulder, stuck her tongue out at him the way a child would, and then looked straight ahead, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

@lucifermorningstxr

Hearing that Chloe hadn't hated Lucifer at all throughout the last nine months was maybe the most healing thing he'd heard in a long time, and that was saying a ton since this entire night had been incredibly cathartic for him. He'd known about his behaviour two years ago and had long made up for it, but as of late, he'd thought there was no real reconciliation, so it felt like Heaven on Earth to hear that from his human. "Right, well, you have no idea how that makes me feel. At the risk of being far too sappy once more, I'll simply say thank you, Detective. And in turn, I'd like you to know I could never hate you. I can be hurt, I can be upset, but I can never hate you. Far from it. I..." He cleared his throat and turned his attention to Chloe's inquiry about Candy. He hadn't told her about that yet? Well, here it goes. "Yes! Well, partially. I met her at a club where she'd picked my wallet and lifted my ring to pay debts on said club inherited from her father. I was impressed with her skills, although nobody steals from the Devil. So, I met with her privately to discuss our issues, and we agreed to help one another. I'd pay off her debts if she married me and agreed to keep tabs on my mother. It was a mutual agreement, but an agreement... a deal... nonetheless." Lucifer tucked Chloe's hair behind her ear before adding one last line. "Oh, and by the way, the only reason I ran off to Vegas is because you nearly died, and I blamed myself because it was my fault. So, I thought I was protecting you by leaving. Anyway, I couldn't stop talking about you with Candy the entire time. That's the foundation on which we built our deal. There you have it. The whole story."

"Yes, I want to be with you, Detective. Only you, with no sharing on either side. I'm not quite sure if you picked up on it, but I bloody hated Pierce besides the Cain thing, because he had you and I didn't. I hate any guy who has you instead of me. I'd tell you to ask Dr. Martin, but that'd probably be in violation of some confidentiality laws. So, ask anyway." He smirked. "Seriously, I want you, Detective, and I don't dare what we're doing. Watching Buffy here, playing the piano there, solving crimes anywhere... I just want to be with you, Detective. That is my truest desire."

"We can do whatever it is that you desire." Lucifer smirked once again, booking Chloe's nose playfully. "As long as we're together, I'd do literally anything. And that's the Dad-honest truth."

[little-jana]

"Tension and Snowstorms"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: tension, kissing

Words: 1.6k

Summary: A snowstorm leads to Spencer and Reader being consumed by their ongoing tension.

The case had wrapped up late, as always. Everyone was exhausted, but a mix of relief and anticipation had settled over the team. New Year’s Eve was only hours away, and all I wanted was to get back home, put the past few days behind me, and enjoy some quiet time.

But fate had other plans.

The storm had hit harder than expected, and with the snow piling up outside, the airline had canceled all flights. That’s how I found myself in the hotel lobby, looking at Spencer Reid, who had that familiar expression of uncertainty on his face. We were the only two left from the team, the others already having found alternate routes or heading to their homes by car.

Spencer looked over at me, his brown eyes wide behind his glasses, his usual awkwardness radiating off him. “I… guess it looks like we’re stuck here for another night.”

I nodded, my mind a little clouded by the unexpected turn of events. I hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, just the two of us. I’d always been drawn to him, but there was this silent, unspoken tension that had been building for months. There were moments, brief and fleeting, when I’d catch him looking at me a little too long, when his eyes would linger on my lips longer than necessary, when his voice would drop just enough to make my heart beat a little faster.

But now, with the hotel practically empty, it felt different. The air was thick with something I couldn’t quite name, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute.

“Want to grab dinner?” I asked, trying to break the quiet.

Spencer hesitated, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’m starving. Just… let me change real quick.”

I gave him a small smile, trying to ignore the way my stomach fluttered. “Alright, I’ll meet you in the lobby in twenty?”

“Sounds good,” he said, his voice almost breathless.

I walked away, my mind racing. There was something about the way he said that, like he was a little too eager, too nervous. It had been building for a while now—the attraction between us, the moments of stolen glances, the lingering touches when we’d pass things to each other, when we’d brush hands. But we’d never acted on it. He was still haunted by his past, and I was unsure if he’d ever want to cross that line.

I tried to shake it off as I returned to my room. A nice dinner with Spencer would be fine. Nothing more. After all, he was a colleague. A brilliant, quirky colleague who happened to be incredibly attractive. But I didn’t want to acknowledge that too much.

When I met him in the lobby later, I could see the tension in his posture. He was fidgeting with his glasses, a telltale sign that he was nervous. “Ready?” I asked, my voice softer than usual.

Spencer cleared his throat, adjusting his jacket. “Yeah, uh, just trying to decide if I should keep my jacket on or not.”

I took a step closer, resisting the urge to laugh at how nervous he was. “It’s freezing outside, Spencer. I think keeping it on is a good idea.”

He glanced at me, a little flush creeping up his neck. “Right, yeah, I was just thinking—never mind. Lead the way?”

I smiled, though it felt a little strained. “Sure.”

The restaurant wasn’t far, and as we walked together, the snow began to fall, creating a blanket of silence around us. It was quiet, and all I could hear was the crunch of our footsteps in the snow and the occasional hum of a car passing by. Spencer walked just a little too close, his shoulder brushing mine more often than was necessary. Each time it happened, my heart skipped a beat, and I couldn’t tell if it was the cold or something else making me feel this way.

By the time we sat down for dinner, the atmosphere was even more charged. I couldn’t quite look him in the eye for too long, but I couldn’t stop stealing glances at his profile. The way his dark hair fell just right, how his lips moved when he spoke. I could hear the rapid beat of my own heart, as though it were picking up on the tension between us. Spencer, for his part, seemed just as affected. He was constantly shifting in his seat, picking at the edges of his napkin, his eyes darting toward mine before quickly looking away.

Dinner dragged on, but not in the usual way. Every moment felt like it was stretching, and the spaces between our words seemed longer, filled with something unsaid. I had the feeling that Spencer was keeping himself in check, maybe out of some sort of fear. Fear of what, though? Of me? Of his feelings? I had no idea. But it was maddening.

By the time we paid the check, my nerves were shot. I wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the proximity to him, but something inside me felt like it might snap.

We returned to the hotel, the hallway eerily quiet. Spencer had his hands in his pockets, and I could tell he was trying to keep his distance. But when we reached the door to my room, he paused, hesitating just outside it.

“Are you, uh…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “are you sure you want to go to bed already?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his words. There was something in his voice, a slight crack in his usual composed tone. I wasn’t sure if it was a hint or if he was just trying to make small talk to fill the silence.

“I’m not really tired,” I said, a little too quickly. “But I’m not really sure what else to do either.”

Spencer’s gaze flickered to mine, the tension between us palpable. He shifted his weight, leaning slightly toward me. “You know, I was thinking we could—”

“Spencer,” I cut him off, my heart racing. “We don’t have to do this.”

He froze. “Do what?”

I stared at him, the distance between us shrinking with every passing second. “We both know there’s something here, but I don’t want to make things complicated. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

He exhaled sharply, his eyes darkening. “I don’t know how to do this with you, okay?” His voice was strained, like he was fighting to keep his composure. “I’ve been trying so hard to pretend that there isn’t something between us, but I can’t anymore.”

My breath hitched in my throat as I watched his struggle. “What do you want from me, Spencer?”

He took a step closer, his face just inches from mine now. I could feel his breath on my skin, the heat of his body, and it made my heart race. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered. “But I want you. I can’t pretend that I don’t.”

The words hung in the air like a confession, raw and unspoken for so long. And in that moment, I knew that whatever had been building between us, whatever tension had been stretching thin for months, was about to break.

Before I could respond, he reached out, his hand gently cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing the side of my face. It was soft and careful, but it ignited something deep inside me. He leaned in just enough that our lips were barely a breath away, and I could feel the weight of everything unsaid between us.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice rough with want. “But I can’t hold back anymore.”

And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t slow or tentative. It was desperate, urgent, as though we were both craving something we’d been denying ourselves for too long. The tension had snapped, and now all that was left was the heat and the electricity between us, crackling and alive.

His hands were on my back, pulling me closer, and I responded eagerly, my hands threading into his hair, tangling in the soft strands. I had no idea where this would lead, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t care. All I knew was that Spencer Reid was kissing me like he’d been wanting to for far too long.

And I was more than willing to let him.

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups | Part 6

Part 1 can be found here. AO3

Shout out to @xbirdiex

Saturday moved with ease, John and Nyla joined you in taking the boys to the planetarium and lunch before dropping by the park for the regularly scheduled play date with other neighborhood kids.

Nyla stretched upon climbing out of your van. The ride from downtown to the park closest to your house had taken much longer than expected. There were several accidents on the freeway that delayed you by nearly an hour.

“I’ll be taken myself on a walk, you youngin’s watch the bairns.” With that, she strode with purpose on the path that circled the park.

The boys released themselves from their seats and took off screaming like only a seven-year-old can. Sharing a look with John you grab your park blanket from the back before locking the van.

John rubbed the back of his neck; he had been stuck in the back with the boys who talked the entirety of the car ride.

“They sure do have a lot of energy.”

Laughing you lead the way to a relatively flat spot of grass and lay out your blanket.

“They sure do. If you can believe it this is less energy than they used to have.”

Aghast John stares at you deep concern etched between his brows. It triggered a whole ‘nother round of laughter. Wiping your eyes free of the joyful tears you go on to explain.

“Toddlers have more energy but fewer words and are arguably much harder to care for. They are attracted to death, finding things that can kill them everywhere.”

“How did you manage?” He glances from you to the children crawling over the park equipment like ants over a corpse.

“Larsen mostly.” You smile softly thinking of your best friend.

John leans back on his hands, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“Tell me about him?”

“Larsen?” You question, surprised.

“Mom!” Mac comes racing up to you, “There is a kid that is throwing bark at people.”

“Okay, is he still doing it or did his grown-up take care of the problem?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, so it sounds like it has been taken care of right?” You lift a brow in conjunction with your question.

“Yeah,” Mac nods once before taking off at the same speed he arrived.

Blowing out a breath you glance to John and roll your eyes about your child’s antics.

“What do you want to know about Larsen?”

“Let’s start at the beginning, how did you meet?”

You can’t help the smile that blooms across your face.

“We met in second grade, about the same age the boys are now. We became the best of friends and were thick as thieves. Larsen lived outside the boundaries of our school but his parents used one of his grandparent’s addresses to get him into a ‘better school’.” You roll your eyes at that but continue. “We stayed friends all through school. He was my best friend. So many people in high school thought we were dating. Made it so hard to get a boyfriend.”

John laughed at the bitter cast to your voice. “Seems like it turned out well for you though.”

Canting your head side to side you decide how to explain.

“Larsen didn’t like the idea of romantic love; never had a partner because of it. When I got the news I was pregnant he was my first call.” You chuckle at the memory now, “I told him everything that had happened and you know what my best friend did? He offered to marry me over the phone.”

You pause your tale to yell at Jace to get down, the outside of the equipment is not meant for playing.

Picking up the story where you had left it you continue, “I said yes, obviously. He was the best partner I could have asked for. You are staying in his old room actually. We didn’t have a conventional marriage but he loved the boys fiercely; said he would be their father before anything else in his life. Damn man nearly passed out during delivery though.”

The memory still makes you smile, both your mom and Larsen’s had come to help with delivery. He didn’t even hold a leg as you pushed out the boys but one glance at your nether regions and the blood gushing from your vagina had him pale and had his mom shoving him into a chair with a ‘you are not going to pass out, we are all busy right now.’ The midwife team had laughed at that with you as you laughed out Jace. Mac had already been whisked away to get cleaned up.

“He sounds like a good man, the boys talk about him sometimes,” John is contemplative in his tone.

You curl your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your chin down too.

“His death shocked us all. He had an aneurysm at work, gone before the paramedics arrived.”

“Not a bad way to go all things considered,” John mused aloud.

“Noah MacTavish! Get down now!” Mac makes a guilty face as he is caught scaling the play structure. “No, it could have been worse. He left us with a healthy chunk of life insurance and because he passed at work we got all the life insurance money from that fiasco. I paid off the house and invested the rest. I opened my cake decorating business within a few months of his passing to pay for our daily expenses, got all three of us in therapy, and then the boys started Kindergarten soon after. Larsen’s mom, Crystal, and my mom both stepped up in amazing ways.”

John is looking at you when you glance his way, the depth in his gaze sends shivers across your skin. The last time you had seen that look on his face had been in the weeks you were avoiding Simon on base. A deep contemplation as he mulled over his thoughts, you thought even then that it made him more attractive than should be reasonable.

Turning back to watch the boys you finish your thought.

“They both take the boys one day a week for a few hours so I have time to clean house or make deliveries or go to the doctor without an entourage.”

“Now Nyla is here and hopefully soon they will have more people to share the load,” John whistled, the sharp sound had both boys stopping their poor choices.

Speaking of Nyla caused her appearance avoiding the need for you to reply that you didn’t know if Simon and Johnny would want to be involved.

The boys played for a while longer before the three adults hustled them into the car and home for dinner.

Sunday morning saw you waking early with the boys, feeding them before sending them off to play in the backyard. Nyla and John were both able to sleep later than the six am wake-up you had.

Nearing nine am, Jace tore in through the back door as you work on the cake due today. He is holding his groin, a face of slight panic as he busts into the downstairs bathroom. You don’t remember the problem with him using that toilet until John’s startled voice sounds from the open door.

“Hello?”

“I have to go potty,” comes Jace’s quick reply.

“Ah.”

“Does your penis ever get stuck in your clothes?”

Oh no, now they are having a shower conversation. All of your focus is on the sounds drifting from the now-open door.

“Sometimes it does kiddo.”

Fuck. How do you deal with this? Jace will be done soon and John should have locked the door.

“Huh. Okay.” The toilet lid slams and you can hear Jace washing his hands before he reappears to go back to playing.

Now the question is, do you flush the toilet and shut the door? Yes. John deserved to shower in peace. As you reach the door you announce yourself.

“Don’t mind me, I am just going to take care of the step Jace missed.”

“Thanks, dove,” John’s voice drifts down over the shower curtain and you stop yourself from imagining anything that might join that thought.

“I am also going to lock the door so Mac doesn’t do the same thing to you.” Flushing the toilet you step back out of the room. John laughs as you lock the door and pull it shut tight.

Turning you find Nyla looking at you all concerned. By way of explanation, you say, “Jace busted in on John.”

She laughs with you at the absurdity of the situation and follows you back into the kitchen as you wash your hands and prepare to keep decorating a cake for a teenage birthday order. Their parent would be coming by in two hours for their delivery.

“I am going to visit with my boys.”

Your stomach tightened painfully at those words. The small smile you give her doesn’t mask the tension in your body. She pulls you into a motherly side hug, touching her head to yours before wandering from the kitchen. The front door opens and closes in near tandem with John stepping from the bathroom.

Fully clothed, steam billows around him as he shoves a bundle of clothes under one arm.

“That cake is the ugliest set of colors I have ever seen,” his brows nearly touch as he stares at the orange monstrosity sitting atop your counter.

“Oh I know but it’s only going to get worse,” you grab another container filled with your homemade frosting and begin to whip in a pale mint color.

“Worse?” John moves into the kitchen and around the counter to look down into the bowl you are using your hand mixer on. “Is that some kind of green?”

“Mint, but yes. Kid is turning thirteen and their two favorite colors are orange and mint. Mom wanted to combine both on the cake. Sent me reference photos and everything.” Turning off the hand mixer you set it to the side and ready your piping bag for a transfer. “Any fun plans today?”

John moves back around the kitchen island and settles both himself and his bundle of clothes onto a chair.

“I have a few stops I need to make but then will be back around lunch.” He is watching you as you spin your piping bag and start to drape strings of mint icing along the edge of the cake.

“Okay my mom will be here soon for the boys,” you glance at John as you tell him why, “She likes to take them to church.”

He pulls a face as he mutters, “Lovely.”

“I feel the same but if it keeps the peace and means she will take them on a weeknight too, I will allow it for now. I will probably use the time they are gone to deep clean the house before Simon and Johnny come over tomorrow.”

A scream from the backyard has you checking out the kitchen window to confirm no broken bones or blood, finding none you shift back to what you are doing.

“Do you clean because you’re stressed or because they are going to see more than the front room?” John lightly tapped his fingers against the counter, the sound barely traveling to your ears.

Sticking your tongue out in lieu of an answer John laughs. He rises as the knock sounds at the front door. Your mother comes in and chats with you a moment before collecting your boys who both give you a hug and a kiss before trailing out the door after grandma. John pokes his head into the kitchen to let you know he is leaving. And then you are alone.

Blasting music through the house you finish decorating, send a text to your client that she can pick up the cake any time before two pm, and set about cleaning the house. When Nyla reappears she jumps in by stripping all of the beds and starting the wash. By the time the boys and John appeared the house looked cleaner than it had been for Larsen’s wake. The scent of cleaning chemicals masked with lemon could be smelled in every room in the house.

Your pickup happens neatly at one, the mother gushing that the cake matches the vision and her kid is going to be so pleased. Nyla made sandwiches while you had finished cleaning the last bathroom. Sitting down at the table John announced that he would be sending both you and Nyla to a movie and then dinner.

“Are you sure you want to handle the boys?” They both grin up at you like innocent devils.

“We will have fun, won’t we boys?” John winks at them as they cheer.

At Nyla’s shrug, you accept the offer. A quick shower for yourself and the two of you were out the door, giggling at the thought of John managing the boys. The movie was your choice followed by Nyla’s pick of restaurant. Darkness had fallen by the time you both made your way through the garage and into the TV room.

Flung across the couch were three sleeping bodies. Jace slept sitting up against John. Mac rested his head against John’s thigh. John sat upright, head notched over the top of the couch and hands still gripping the controller for the game console that showed they had died again while playing Minecraft.

You lifted Jace first, fighting your way up the stairs with his body koala tight to you. Settling him in bed you turn and find a squinting John stepping into the room Mac wrapped around him. He settles your boy down with a gentle touch and even covers him to the chin with his blankets.

Waiting at the door, you pull it closed after John has slipped from the room.

“How were they tonight?” You whisper in the dark hallway.

“Good, we played board games, hide and seek, read some books, ate dinner, and then fell asleep playing video games.” His tone is even, steady beyond the sleep in his voice.

“Thanks for keeping them tonight John, it was nice to go out with Nyla.”

You can’t see what he does but his fingers find yours for one squeeze.

“They are good boys. I am happy to spend time with them and give you more time to get to know their grandmother,” he whispers back to you.

Tightening your fingers on his you fight the warm ball growing in your chest.

“Goodnight John.”

“Goodnight dove.”

A/N: The next chapter is The Talk™ 😬

Secrets Masterlist | Masterlist

@love-kha1 @sweetlike-sugarplum @vmaxis @splaterparty0-0 @momowhoo @talia-the-gemini @redkarmakai @aethelwyneleigh27 @asexualbuthorny @sleep101 @callsignbumblebee @lucienofthelakes

[jackalwolfsoul]

The Stowaway

---------

CW: Implied abandonment. Self hate. Derogatory name given to a child. If I missed anything, let me know

Also, credit for the picture goes to @yanagikou

Mortarion wasn't sure how the small child managed to sneak aboard his ship or managed to survive as long as she did on her own before she found her way to him.

"Come along, Thorne, lest I leave you behind." Thorne wasn't the child's name, nor did he care to give her a proper name. For all he cared about, she was just a very scrawny baseline. Too small to be on her own, and yet she somehow survived.

He hears small footsteps hurry along after him before she tripped over her own feet. Three of his steps were equivalent to six of hers. "Keep up. I'm not carrying you."

Three...

Two...

He feels her bump into his leg through his cloak, moments later, holding onto the thick material for support. "You're just as clumsy as a Nurgling." He reaches down behind him and picks her up, hearing her squeak in surprise.

It was my a few seconds later that Thorne found herself face to face with the towering Primarch. He held her beneath her arms as he studied her.

"How?"

She tilts her head to the side, not understanding the question.

"How did you survive so long with no caretaker? No guardian to watch over you? You scrawny...

Throne be damned he didn't know what to do. He wasn't a parent, and yet the universe decided to drop one, figuratively, into his lap. "Is this my karma? Has my Father gotten the last laugh?"

"Mo..." Thorne reaches out and tugs at his mask. "Mo..."

"No, child." Mortarion turns his head away. "You won't like what you see. You'll only have more nightmares."

But Thorne was persistent to see what Mortarion looked like.

"Why such a fixation on seeing my face? I'm a monster, and that's all you'll need to know." Mortarion shifts Thorne in his arms so that he could carry her proper, and yet she still persisted in reaching for his mask. "Here..." He reaches around to some part of his armor and hands her a talisman, the symbol for the Death Guard. "Occupy yourself with this. Just not with that mask of mine."

Thorne stares down at the icon thar Mortarion had given her, turning the large piece of silver around in her hands. She holds it up to Mortarion. "Mo..."

"Keep it. I can always get another one." He continues along his way to his quarters. He needed to figure out what to do with Thorne. Maybe he could give her off to one of his other brothers? Maybe he could drop her off at one of the many orphanages that were scattered across the world's.

He stops in his tracks, using his free hand to key in the pass code into the keypad that would open the door to his private quarters. Before he could step inside, he hears footsteps coming down the hall. He quickly sets Thorne down and shoves her into his room before closing the door.

Thorne soon found herself alone in the oversized room. She looked back at the closed door and could hear Mortarion's muffled voice and someone else's, but she wasn't sure who it was.

She looks around the room. This was only the second time she had been in Mortarion's room. The first time was when she snuck in and startled him.

In the room was an oversized bed, covered in dust. It was rarely used, but when it was, it was only for short durations. There was a desk over in the corner, covered in numerous parchment scrolls and bottles of ink. A few spilled and stained into the wood. There was a door off to the side, which led to a cleansing area, which was used recently.

Mortarion, even if he didn't openly admit it, kinda did care for Thorne. He was making an effort to make a decontamination procedure, to not to get her sick with whatever pathogens stuck to him worse than glue. Even if he did plan on giving her up, he still wanted to make sure she stayed healthy til then.

"Mo..." She reaches her hands up, hoping to see Mortarion walk into the room and pick her up again. After a few minutes of waiting, she gives up.

Hours go by, and Mortarion finally steps into his quarters. A frown mars his face beneath his mask as he sees that, somehow, Thorne and climbs up into his bed, fallen asleep while waiting for him. "At least you're a lot less annoying as a Nurgling and quiet, too."

He stares at her for a moment before going to fetch something for her to sleep on, other than the dusty covers of his bed.

The bit of movement was enough to wake Thorne from her slumber. She rubs the sleep from her eyes before reaching out to Mortarion. "Mo..."

"Hm?"

"Mo..."

"Who's Mo?"

Thorne points at Mortarion, and it slowly dawns on him she was trying to say his name but couldn't. So hence the reason why she shortened it.

"My name is not Mo. It's Mortarion. Mor-tari-on." He sounds out his name with the hopes and guise she'd get it.

"Mo," she repeats again.

"Mor-tari-on. Say it!"

"Mor..tary. Morty."

Mortarion rolls his eyes. He was not going to settle for a ridiculous nickname. "Throne be damned thorn in my side. No, you are not calling me that!!" He sees her flinch at him from raising his voice yet still somehow muffled behind the mask. "You are not calling me that."

He takes a deep breath, the stale air irritating his lungs for a moment before letting it slowly out. "Mortis. Can you say Mortis?"

"Mort..is. Mortis."

"Very good." He pulls out the chair from his desk and sits down. The child had been with him less than a week, and she already irritated him to no end. "You should have found someone else to latch on to. Not a monster like me."

"Mortis." Thorne holds her arms out to Mortarion again, wanting him to pick her up.

"Why?"

She makes a grabbing motion with her hands, persistent in her demands.

"Fine. But if you fall asleep in my arms, I'm giving you to Typhus." He leans forward and scoops her up.

It was late into the night. The room was illuminated by candlelight. Mortarion was busy writing a letter to one of his brothers to ask for help. He knew whom he should ask, but asking him would be another challenge altogether. He looks down at Thorne, who did, in fact, fall asleep in his arms. The scratching of the feather quill pen was what lulled her to sleep tonight. "Guess you aren't so bad after all. For being a thorn in my side."

@yanagikou @yurihasurunbara @jaghatai-khock

Since you guys wanted to read it, here you go.

[astracora]

The Nightmare

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc

Warnings: Nightmare, spoilers for main story (Chapter 4), hurt/comfort

Word Count: 803

Written: 2nd January 2025

Notes: Established relationship Sylus/MC, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. I had the mental image of wolf Sylus trying to devour mc, except his jaws never closed, so I ended up just throwing this out. Something something I earn a dime, something something capitalism, something something post fic on company time.

Masterlist

You watch as the flames lick their way through what's left of the house. Eating its way through framework. Chewing and splintering shattered glass. If you look closely you can see a dragon. Horns twisted and broken, tail sharper than a scorpion sting. Claws gouging out the ground as it moves.

Closing your eyes doesn't stop the heat touching your cheeks, it doesn't make the image go away, so burned into your retinas you can see its shade against your eyelids.

The beast moves, uncaring of you, through the remains of what had been your home. Through memories you'd wanted to cherish more than you had.

To time you wished you'd not wasted.

It slips out from underneath you, the ground swallowing you whole, and as you look back up you see the bright red eyes spearing you. Wavering flame and scorched earth.

The fall isn't long, but the landing is hard. Knocking the air from your lungs, and sparks fill your vision. Rolling to your side, you force a hand to push you back up. It's colder here, there's no devouring beast, tearing your life from you. Instead just endless dark, snarled trees.

Unfamiliar forest that stretches past the edges of your mind. You are still alone, but despite the chill in your bones, this is a better place to be stuck… than on the edge of the abyss.

Your legs are unsteady when you stand, trembling steps pushing you forwards.

Whispers flicker out of the trees.

Alone.

Broken.

Worthless.

Stupid.

You turn, looking for the speaker, but the voices are different and there's no one lurking behind branches.

You think you recognise them, the calls. Familiar, intimate, but they're twisted. Believing that the voices would call you such things… It feels worse than the flames licking your skin.

Moving forwards is the only option available to you. If you stop, if you stall… your terrified mind thinks you might slip back into the ground. Too scared to know what else will be waiting for you.

A growl ripples through the trees, turning to a snarl. You step forward, ready to run, but ice crawls up your leg. Freezing your skin, pulling you to your knees. Stumbling until you're on your knees. Your lone hand stabilises you before that too is encased in ice.

A huge white wolf stalks out, molten eyes and dripping canines. It approaches you, sniffing like you're its next meal.

Judging by the way its tongue lolls out, to pass over the skin of your neck, you might be.

You want to close your eyes again, escape, be anywhere else, but it keeps you captive. Jaws open, and you try to pull away but its head is too big.

The heat of its breath against your skin, the dripping saliva on your neck as it closes around you.

Of all the ways to die, you didn't think it would be a beast in the forest.

Your heart, likely, maybe a wanderer's sword… you'd take the unlikely dream of it being in your sleep, at an old age, in the arms of those you love.

Instead, it will be a creature, as beautiful as it is dangerous, devouring you in a forest where no one will ever find whatever is left of you.

As the fangs dig into your skin, blood trickling, soaking into your clothes… you wait for the snap.

"Kitten."

Shaking.

"Beloved, come on."

Heat against your face.

"Wake up."

You gasp, lurching forwards. Falling into the heat of a familiar embrace. The scent of Sylus, wrapping around you, the feeling of his lips pressing to your neck. Over where the wolf fang's still sting.

Hand clasping at his hair, tangling in silver locks.

"You're safe, I'm here." He hums into your neck. Easing the ache in your chest, the heart that thunders too quickly to be safe. It is home. Eased with the chaotic beat of his against yours. "Breathe, kitten." His thumb rubs constant pressure into the back of your neck.

When your heart settles, and the fear skitters back to recesses, you pull away enough to bump his forehead with yours. Peering in at jewel-like eyes, painted in concern, but a hearth of comfort. The beasts in your nightmares disappear, hand placed on their brow, easing them back, lowering their hackles.

It is not a nightmare that waits for you when you wake, it is a warm bed, warm arms, and gentle affection.

A drink is placed on the side table, steam rising from hot milk and honey, another kiss is pressed into your head, and your eyes drift closed.

You're safe.

You're home.

There are no beasts here. No monsters to hurt you…

And when you wake up, you will greet the love of those around you, and find comfort in warm arms.

[labyrinthofsphinx]

https://labyrinthofsphinx.tumblr.com/post/760078820972937216/theoretically-if-vox-ever-died-would-alastor-eat

Shoot, another question popped in my head (Same anon that’s been rereading all the posts). In this ask, Vox pauses when he’s mentioning the fact that a dead person can’t say no anymore, and also is pretty focused on the ‘who cares what a body wants’ part. Did he pause because he was thinking of that in regards to Alastor, something that happened to him, something that happened to somebody he cares about, or just because he’s considerate of the wishes of dead people??? Considering the fact that he does actively cook, uh, ‘dinner’ for Alastor sometimes, I feel like it would be one of the former. Or was it nothing and I’m reading too much into it? 😅

Ooooh, you get a gold star, Anon! Nice catch! I guess a bit more convo on this, though, as a note, this is going to go into Vox's mindset about consent, in a sense:

So, you're very much on the right trail. Vox is very, very concerned with personal agency, specifically in his own ability to decide things. It's not so much a control issue, like it is with Alastor, as it is just Vox believing that after everything he's accomplished and all the things he's had to do to get where he is...he's entitled to get a say on things.

He's done a lot to get where he is and, as he said himself, murder is among the more 'mundane' things that kept him climbing that ladder. He's worked hard, brushed elbows with the right people, stole, blackmailed, lied, and fought tooth and nail to get to the top of his pyramid....and in a sense, he still has to do what other people say and expect. He still has to 'act the part'. For example, sleeping around with people that he, honestly, doesn't care about to maintain his very 'masculine' image. It's his 'choice' to do it, but only because, if he wants to keep that throne of his, he almost has to. Lacking that broader choice drives him up the wall, not that he ever seems to show it. We're going to go into this more later.

With Alastor very specifically...things get a little dicey with regard to this. Because, here's the thing, Vox really doesn't have many rules at all with Al. Things run by Al's comfort levels mostly. So if Alastor wants to do something, especially if it makes him happy....Vox is probably going to let him do it. Hence the cannibalism. Vox honestly, truly, hates it. He hates the pain, how gross it is, and how it reminds him of things he'd really rather forget (like Tac tormenting him as a child). But he puts up with it because Alastor loves it. He places a lot of trust with Alastor when he lets Al bite him, not that Alastor ever sees that. And, to Vox, it's still 'his choice' in his mind. He can always tell Alastor, 'no' (not that he ever has before).

The body question was...very uncomfortable for him because, in a roundabout way, Alastor all but said he would do what he wanted regardless of what Vox thought because 'he's just a body at that point'. He may spend his days all but selling himself, the image and the fantasy of himself, to the masses, but it's another thing entirely to be made into a 'thing', a 'commodity', by his partner. He can mostly drown out those thoughts by just thinking about it from Alastor's perspective, that he knows Alastor is only thinking with cold, hard logic, not emotion. That, and he knows Alastor almost can't put himself in someone else's shoes. From that angle, he gets what Alastor meant to say, which lessens the blow a bit: All that was Vox is dead, the body by itself is not Vox.

...but there is that little part in him that is going to be stuck on it. That everybody always 'wants' something from him. Apparently, even Alastor 'wants' something...just not in the usual way people 'want' bodies. It's also pretty potent because Vox always waits for Alastor's explicit consent on things, hence his own answer on the question of doing whatever Al had asked for.

In a way, Alastor assumes he basically always has Vox's consent unless told, and Vox always assumes he doesn't have Al's consent unless told.

We're going to see more of how this plays into the dynamic down the line.

Anywho, thanks for the ask! And good on you for spotting that!

[fluffiewuffie]

Courting or Capturing the Heart

Hoshina Soshiro X Chubby Fem Reader

You are one of the scientists who work with the kaiju and all the weapon processing. That's how you met the vice-captain of the third division. You had already helped make Captain Ashiro's main weapon and you heard that her second in command was quite the opposite of her. You liked a challenge and knew that the third division was hard working and kind so you offered to help make the weapon for the vice-captain. You had heard he was an extraordinary swordsman and that he was looking for a short ranged weapon of some sort. You helped design and make his twin swords that are now his most used weapon.

When you first met Hoshina he was a smiley and silly guy. He was polite yet made the conversation the two of you had humorous. You thought his determination to fight Kaiju with short ranged weapons instead of guns like everyone else was, was admirable. Plus he was as handsome as everyone had said, but a lot of people were handsome and being in the defense force was a dangerous job. You never knew when you could die. So you decided to let your small crush on him be that and that alone. Stealing glances here and there wouldn't hurt anyone, and you would keep things professional. That did get a little hard after you saw him finally use the weapons you had helped design specifically for him. He was amazing, no that was an understatement, he was incredible. This form, the way he held the swords, the way he moved. It was as if he was water flowing through the ways of life. Mina had seen how you were staring. "He's spectacular right?" She asks you, you nod your head agreeing, embarrassed you were caught staring. You laugh it off and look at her in a respectful manner. "You and Hoshina-san are both sensational, the third division and the whole defense force are lucky to have such amazing fighters such as yourselves." You reply. She gives you a small smile before saying "We would be nothing if it weren't for you scientists who give us our weapons and suits to help us in combat. Those twin swords are impressive and I know you worked on my canon, you are impressive in your own way. I would like to offer you a place at the third division if you would join us?" She stuck her hand out for you to shake. Your eyes widen and you are unable to hold back a smile, you shake her hand firmly with both of your hands. "I promise you Ashiro-san, you will not be disappointed". As you guys are going over where you will be staying and what you will be helping out with, an arm goes around your shoulders, slim but strong and firm. "I take it she said yes? Welcome to the third division Y/N" Hoshina says as he lets you go and starts to praise the work of his swords shamelessly like a child with a new toy. Now that was just the beginning of your relationship.

~~~~~~~~~~~TIME SKIP~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been half a year since you started working at the third division and your thoughts about the vice-captain of the place only grew. He was funny. Making jokes all the time and his laugh was contagious. He was kind. He always made sure you got food when you had a busy week and he even would stay up to help you sometimes. He was understanding. Moving away from family was a hard decision but you knew it was the best choice to help the world from Kaiju and to further your placement in the ranks of the defense force. Sometimes it got really lonely without your family but Hoshina was always there to listen to you. He was surprisingly a good listener. You knew that you liked him but there were so many reasons why you shouldn’t- no, why you couldn’t tell him. You guys were coworkers, if something went wrong and things went awkward then work could be all messed up. If that was messed up he could get hurt on the job and in his line of work, it is too normal of a thing. Plus after all this time you didn’t even know if he was SINGLE, the question never had come up so he could be taken for all you knew. Plus even if he was single you didn’t even know if you were his type. You know you’re beautiful in your own way, nice curves, a cutesy face and your big smart brain but he could not be into that and that wouldn’t be either of your faults. Mina and Konomi were the only ones who knew that you liked Hoshina, but they couldn’t really help answer any of your questions either. Neither of them talked to Hoshina about his love life like that and if they all of a sudden did then suspicion would 100% arise. 

Little did you know, Hoshina was flirting with you this WHOLE time. He didn’t know if he was bad at flirting or if you were just dense, it could be both. To you, he just seemed like a friendly person and he treated everyone how he treated you. To him, he was so sure that he was majorly hitting on you since you joined the third division…but he had never flirted before so what did he know? He was determined to court you until you confessed you also liked him...but he never actually told you he was courting you. 

He was doing his usual helping out while you research. Today you guys were in the library and it was getting late. “Hoshina you can leave first if you would like, I know you’re getting new recruits tomorrow and it’s getting late” You offered, feeling guilty about him staying. “Soshiro”, was all he said before getting up to sit on the table, now being right next to you. You looked up at him and tilted your head. “Hoshina? Are you tired?” You asked, he responded quickly with “Call me Soshiro, Y/N. And I’ll stay with you all night if I have too” Then he flashed you a warm smile. This smile was different, it wasn’t his usual goofy one, it was soft. You smiled to yourself, your cheeks getting a little warm. He turned to look away from you. “Hey Y/N, I heard you like someone” he lied, “Who is it?”. Your eyes widen in shock and you gulp. You feel the embarrassment climbing up your spine and you get out of your seat to go find a book as a distraction. “I, um, I don’t like anyone haha” You replied unconvincingly. The urge to just tell him it was him was tempting but then you thought about all the worst outcomes again. He stared at you the whole time, from the moment you got out of your chair, to you nervously looking up when you were thinking, to you looking for a book. You found the book you needed to help you with your research, your mind forgetting about the situation you were in for one second. You didn’t notice that Hoshina had walked up to you as you struggled to reach for the book on the top shelf. He reached up for it and got it, then he leaned on the book shelf. He looked into your eyes and gave you that small, warm smile again. Then he tilted his head and asked “There’s absolutely no one you find a little interesting or attractive or captivating?” Describing all the things he would’ve described you as. You looked into his eyes, unable to look away. “I guess there is one person…and give me my book” You say in a joking ‘upset’ voice and you grab your book from him. “Who?” He asked again. You hugged your book and looked at your toes. You gulp one last time before mustering up the courage to say quietly, “You, Soshiro”. That was the first time you had called him by his first name. He sighed in relief, you looked at him in confusion. He was holding his chest “You had me WORRIED Y/N, I thought I was going to have to keep courting you for a whole nother half a year” then you look at him even MORE confused. “Court me?? Were you flirting with me? Hitting on me?” You asked in disbelief. “Uh Yeah? Was it not obvious? Is that not the reason why you like me??” Now it was his turn to be confused. He had to think about all the times he was trying to flirt with you. He then stated “I complimented you all the time!” You giggled and said “Half of your compliments were like how my taste in envelopes were immaculate haha” “Because they are!” He argued and he also laughed a little, he then stated “I always hugged you goodbye” “I hug a lot of people goodbye Soshiro” He frowned and scratched the back of his head. “Well, I like you too. With this job anything could happen any day now. I hope you’ll be mine even though it won’t be easy” He said as he leaned his forehead to yours. You smile and lean against him too, “Of course I will” as you look up, about to kiss him. Then you hear a click and a flash of a camera. “Did you get it Mina-san?” “Mhm”. You and Soshiro sigh and turn to see a certain scientist and the captain of the third division snooping. You laugh it off and end up giving each other a big hug before going back to your work. He may not have known how to court but he sure did capture your heart.

[squigglesthebunny]

Static helpin out Hotstreak with some spelling!

I rewatched all of Static Shock so I had to make this cuz I can’t stop thinking about the show. 🤧🤧

[addoration]

well i didn’t have the best time tonight but at least my dress was cute :3

[ebbpettier]

simon snow sexy fireman style pinup calendar. is that anything.