#I’ve only seen it a few times but it’s always NUTS

[heavencasteel420]

Villainizing Vickie is kind of hilarious to me. Like girl she and Robin were barely flirting at the end of S4. If you want her out of the picture in your fic, just have them not run into each other again so the whole thing peters out. You don’t even have to do an early-dating dealbreaker like “she’s bad at making out” or “she only likes movies made after the blockbuster was invented.”

[adoresia]

✦˚₊ TRUST ME I GOT NOTHING FOR YOU OTHER THAN LOVE…

Pairing : E42 Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : Miles finds it hard to open up to you about whats going on in his life, after a little persuading he finally tells you about whats bothering him so much.

Sierra speaks : FIRST OF ALL… thank you guys so much for all the love on my last fic it means so much to me🫶🏾🥹 it took so long for me to build up the courage to start posting… Here is another fic i had in my notes to make you guys happy! I litterally have a bunch of fics and fic ideas stored for myself and now..im sharing them with you!🥳 enjoy!! also this is a little longer than i had planned…

Warnings ❕: Miles almost crying ���, rubbish spanish, heavly suggestive (oops), kissing, cussing, teasing???.

Listen too’s :

YALL BETTER LISTEN TO THE SONGS I PAIR WITH THESE FICS ISTG.

You leaned on the railing on your balcony, eyes fixated on Miles’s tall figure walking back and forth outside your apartment complex.

It was well pass midnight and the street lights were the only thing illuminating the darkness of your Brooklyn neighbourhood.

He was by himself smoking a blunt. He knew you hated when he smoked so he attempted to keep it from you, however this time he couldn’t really hold himself back.

Life was dragging him through the dirt right now, with the passing of his father and the pressure of being prowler on his back, you could almost mistake Miles for being mute. A part of his life had been ripped away.

And you couldn’t blame him.

It was a struggle for him to open up to you, and despite being together for almost a year, he still struggled to talk to you, to fully open up to you. And even though you welcomed him into your life with open arms, he still did not feel complete. Nothing could replace what he had lost.

Before Miles had found himself outside the both of you were cuddling. With Miles laid between both of your legs, his head rested on your chest while you massaged his scalp with your nails.

Since his arrival he had not uttered a word to you apart from :

“hey baby, ima just stay here from a bit if thats okay.”

He hugged you tight, even tighter than ever before. You could tell something was up, but you let him go at his own pace, weather he wanted to tell you about it or not he knew you would always be there for him.

So here you both lay in silence on your bed, your sheets draped over the both of you. It was like that for an hour. Miles fiddling with the hem of your bra staring at your desk chair.

He blinked like 20 times in the last hour, you could tell he was lost in his thoughts. He looked so over it, and it pained you that there was nothing you could do to help him liven up a little. You kept assuring yourself that it would be temporary. Seeing Miles sad made you sad.

But as the minuted went by Miles stay lost in his sunken thoughts. You couldn’t bare watch him in this state for any longer, even if it meant you had to push him a little.

“What’s wrong hermoso? i’ve never seen you so…down.”

“Nada, Mami. just... thinking.”

“About what papa? sabes que puedes decirme cualquier cosa.”

Miles responded with a hum, not bothering to open his mouth again as it was smushed against your cleavage. The familiar sound of silence re-entered the room, theres nothing else you could say.

“Ima go outside for a bit baby, ill be back.”

He lifted himself off of you so suddenly, sliding on his shoes and giving you a peck on the top of your head without even giving you time to process.

“Where are you going? do you want me to come with-“

“No. I’ll only be a few seconds chiquita.”

“but.”

There were no ‘buts’ he had already shut your door before you could bombard him with questions. Instead your mind filled with them.

Did you push him away? Did you ask too much? say, too much?

Thats how you found yourself staring down at him in the middle of the night, worried. His puffer jacket stay thrown on your desk chair, he had not even thought about bringing it with him, knowing it was quite cold outside. Was he really that desperate to leave? to leave you?

You took a deep breath and decided it was about time you went down for him. You picked up your hoodie, or rather his hoodie; one you stole from him when you went over to his place, sliding into it like a huge blanket.

You put on your slides and grabbed his puffer jacket. Leaving your phone behind.

Pressing on the exit button of your apartment complex you stepped outside. Making sure to put a block on the door so it wouldn’t close, trapping you outside.

You walked towards him almost tip toeing so he couldn’t hear you. You came to a stop behind him watching the smoke blow away with the wind while he brought his arm down beside him, blunt in hand.

“I know your there ma.”

“…”

he laughed looking over his shoulder, you smiled handing him his puffer.

“Its so cold out here even this hoodie isn’t doing me justice, put your jacket on Milo.”

He took his jacket from your hands holding it to his side, seemingly unfazed by your words and the cold.

“Not as an accessory, miles. Put it on. Please.”

“You’re shivering ma, you look like you need it more than i do.”

And instead he places each of the arm holes over your shoulder. You gave up, there was no point in convincing him, and anyways you were still cold even with his giant hoodie on. Goosebumps laddered on your thighs because of your extra short- shorts.

“Hand me the blunt at least. You know i don’t like when you smoke.”

You held your hand out so he could replace the cold air blowing over your palm with the wrapped blunt.

“Yeah im sorry. I’ll try to stop.”

“Sorry doesn’t mean anything if your not gonna change.”

“I know ma. I promise I’ll try.”

“Good.” You stood in-front of him, squinting your eyes.

“Where yo glasses?”

“Inside.”

“Why didn’t you bring them?”

“Because i wasn’t thinking about that at the time. Which actually beings me to why i’m here. I’m worried about you, Miles. You won’t talk to me and if you let these feelings bottle up inside you it won’t…end well.”

“What your gonna break up with me if i dont talk?”

“No… i meant-“

“Then i don’t need to talk. As long as i have you with me theres no need to worry.”

Silence filled the atmosphere between you two again. Miles could sense your disappointment. He let a moment go by watching you huff as you gave up trying to figure out whats wrong with him. You started to make your way back to your apartment before he stopped you with his words.

“Its Ma.”

You spun yourself around to face his back.

“mhmmm.” you signalled for him to continue, walking towards him.

“I aint never seen her this down since dad passed. Her job is taking every single ounce of energy and happiness out of her, she leaves at like 6 in the morning to come home at God knows what time during the night and falls asleep on the couch. She doesn’t have time to even get anything to eat before she has to get up again the next morning to go to work. I can count on my fingers the amount of words she’s said to me this whole week. And last night…”

He came to an abrupt stop, bringing his pointer finger and thumb up to the inner part of his eyes trying to stop himself from crying in front of you.

He let his bottom lip fall letting out a sigh.

“Its okay Milo, you don’t have to finish the rest if you don’t want to. It’s just you and me bonito you can cry, déjalo salir.”

Still with your reassurance he refused to let you see him in this state, but was unable to control the single tear that threatened to drop.

You wiped both his eyes with the pads of your thumb until there was no tears left on his face or his waterline.

“Milo, you don’t have to act all big nd tuff around me. Everyone cries yknow?” you looked up at him while wrapping your arms around him.

“You are so good to me mi amor, ion deserve you.”

“Corny. But i know.” you smiled closing your eyes in his embrace.

he laughed breathily before giving you a kiss to your forehead.

He held your hand turning his head signaling for you both to go back inside.

“It’s low-key getting a bit cold now. I think the only thing keeping me warm was that weed.”

He looked at the now smushed up ball what remained from his blunt. Before eyeing you up and down.

“Cmon lets go, not even these two layers are keeping me warm.”

You pulled on his arm directing him back inside the apartment complex.

Once you got to your door you scrambled everywhere for your keys. Your short pockets, Jacket pockets, hoodie pockets, shit you even checked your afro. Before you thought back to when you grabbed Miles’s jacket and left the room while your keys sat still on your desk.

“Fuck. were locked out.”

“You for real?”

“Nah im just pretending i left the keys inside so we can stay out here in the cold.” you rolled your eyes, thinking maybe that wouldn’t he a bad idea as long as you were with Miles.

He leaned against the wall next to your apartment door pulling you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his torso and laid your head on his chest, the beat of his heart ringing in your ears.

His lips hovered over your head before placing gentle kisses on your scalp.

“How many kisses are you gonna give me Milo.”

“You want me to stop?”

“No..” You smiled to yourself.

“Then stop complaining.”

Lifting his hand from your waist Miles cupped your chin lifting it up so that your eyes would lay on his. His pupil fell to your lips and then back to your eyes. You knew what was up.

“No.”

“Fuck you mean ‘No’.”

Miles mimicked you while you laughed at him, he looked at you unamused.

“Im joking Milo, kiss me.”

“No.”

“FUCK YOU MEAN NO?”

Now it was Miles’s turn to laugh, although you didn’t find it funny a smile still crept up on your face as you narrowed your eyes at him and pondered.

His laugh reminded you of him 2 years ago, when he had a softer personality, happily striding to you or anyone around him with a proud smile on his face, you missed it. And you know he did too.

You stood up still leaning on him but on the tip of your toes. You wrapped your hand around his nape and pulled him in for a well anticipated kiss.

Your lips locked with his, coming together like a jigsaw puzzle. For a moment you envisioned kissing Miles for the first time a year ago, how he didn’t see you coming when you pecked him on the lips. And how he pulled you back kissing you desperately with deep desire.

You lifted up your other arm and wrapped it around his neck while you played with the tip of his braids. Miles wondered his hands down from underneath your shirt to just under your ass. His fingers pushed gently against your skin shooting tingles throughout your body.

At this point your knees were getting weak as your head swayed against his, your mind went into a haze as the heat from the kiss sent you into a bliss. You felt Miles tug on your bottom lip granting himself access to your mouth.

Both your heads sped up the pace bobbing over eachother in sync, Miles feeling insatiable lifted you up to sit on his hips as he turned you both around. You now leaned back on the wall while he rubbed the bottom of your thighs still insatiably kissing you.

Your eyebrows furrowed with pleasure until he pulled away, you both stared into eachothers narrowed eyes breathing heavily.

“Fuck if we were inside right now, the things i’d do to you mami.”

“Break down the door if your that desperate.”

His head fell into your chest as he chuckled. You laid your head on top of his for a while before he let you down.

You both sat outside your apartment door, you on top of miles in a fetal position. Your coat draped over the two of you (barley) as he stroked your forehead with his thumb.

“Te quiero mucho ma, hasta la luna y de regreso.”

He whispered before placing another kiss on your forehead.

“hmm? whatchu say Milo?”

“Nada mami, cierra tus ojos.”

Extrs :

— Yeah your keys were inside, but so were your parents😭 so when your mom opened the door that morning to head of to work the both of you lay there snoring, with your arms wrapped around eachother.

— When you took Miles’s blunt you tried a little yourself 🤫

“Ma.. what are you-”

*heavy coughing*

“so im not allowed but you are-?”

“sh. i was just seeing what the hype was all about *cough* I-I feel like im dying”

Miles just laughs at you.

© All rights reserved to @444morales on tumblr.

Please do not copy, translate or repost my work on any other platforms.

[loveshotzz]

bouncer!steve x fem!reader Steve’s night

🎵 I finally found someone that can make me laugh, hahaha you so crazy, I think I wanna have your baby. 🎵

summary: you’ve got a crush on the new bouncer at The Foxy Lounge. turns out he’s not very good at his job.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: 18+ 90’s AU// Steve is in his early 30’s, Your date gets drunk and says some night nice things, some mild violence (bar fights), possessive steve, fingering, smut (p in v) cream pie, ass eating (f! receiving), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk.

authors note: part two of Whatta Man (steve’s night) you don’t need to read eddie’s to read this one it’s just a little more fun if you do. i’ve seen other writers repost their work after it’s been flagged so here I am. I worked on this for months. please be kind.

The perks of moving into the apartment that presides above The Foxy Lounge were vast for a single girl like yourself, but the perks of becoming friends with the bartender that worked there seemed to make them endless. 

Memorized orders and free drinks when he was feeling nice (which he almost always was), he wore the crown of wingman of the century with pride, Eddie always made sure you had a good time. It was days like today that were your favorite though, heading home from a shitty morning shift at work, you weren’t surprised when you tugged on the front door an hour before open and it wasn’t locked. The annoyed look on his face told you he wasn’t either. An irritated groan leaves his chest at the carelessness of the owner and your landlord before popping the caps off two beers with ease. The loud clink of metal to glass echoes in the empty bar, as he flips his bottle opener between his fingers like muscle memory stuffing it in his back pocket.

“He’s gonna get us robbed one day, and I’m just gonna take my favorite bottle for damages and let them have the rest at this point.” His smile shows the lack of truth behind his words when you sit in the stool in front of him.

“Lucky for the both of you, it’s always just me.”  Winking when you take a swig, the bitter liquid and the company eases the bad day out of your bones almost instantly.

The beginnings of a relaxed sigh start to push past your lips when the jarring sound of his rings slapping against the wood of the bar to the tune of a drum roll has you tense right back up. You’re unable to stop the slam of your beer before deadpanning, “you know I hate when you do that-“

“My best buddy Steve starts tomorrow night, I finally got Rick to say yes.” Eddie’s excitement has him vibrating when he cuts you off to tell you the news of the latest Foxy Lounge employee. “You’re gonna have such a crush on him. I’m calling it now.” The smirk on his face and the arch of his brow dare you to challenge him as he leans forward into your space.

Rolling your eyes with a snort, you start picking at the white sticker wrapped around the bottle. 

“As if you know my type, Munson.” You can’t control the twitch of your lips the second the words leave your mouth when you finally dare to meet his amused gaze.

Eddie knew your type better than anyone else. Watching the men and sometimes women you’d bring upstairs weekend after weekend. He had you pegged and the Cheshire smile on his face told you he knew it too.

“I can hear it now.” He changes the pitch of his voice so it sounds like a bad version of yours before he continues with an exaggerated batting of his lashes, “Oh Eddie, Steve is just so dreamy. Do you think he thinks I’m cute? Will you talk to him? Come on Eddie!”

“I do NOT talk like that, asshole!” Launching a handful of bar nuts at him, he raises his hands in mock surrender shaking out the few that got stuck in his hair with a booming laugh.

“I don’t think that's a nice way to treat the guy who not only didn’t kick you out but also gave you a free beer before we opened, sweetheart.” His dimpled grin and perfect smile almost has your stomach in butterflies.

“I basically live here, besides your boss is the one who left the door unlocked. Maybe it’s a good thing you’re upping your security around here,” you tease, gulping down the rest of the beer before sliding the empty bottle over. 

“We’ll see about this Steve guy you won’t shut up about, who knows Eddie, maybe it’s you who’s got a crush.” 

Sweeping up the mess you made behind his bar he smirks before wiggling his brows.

“Everyone’s got a crush on Steve, baby.”

The pink fluorescent lights of the Foxy Lounge sign that hangs outside your window paints your studio in a blush tinted glow. It bleeds through the sheer floor length curtains, softening its harshness in a way that you liked. The darkness outside always makes it shine brightest around this time, a constant fight with your overhead lamp before bed. Your eyes catch the glaring red numbers on your clear digital clock reading 8:45pm.

Shit. You’re late.

No Doubt’s I’m Just A Girl plays loud enough through your boom box speakers to drown out the murmurs of the bar downstairs that spill through the slight crack in your bedroom window. You finish the last touch ups to the bubble gum colored gloss that coats your lips, smacking them together loudly. You give yourself a sweet smile in the mirror before fluttering your lashes for good measure. The finishing touch.

Finally feeling ready enough to leave, you adjust the black velvet choker around your neck with lavender painted nails. They highlight the lime green tube top that wraps around your chest as you pull at your black maxi skirt that sits above your hips hugging your curves just right.

You give yourself one last once over while you slip on your clunky Steve Madden slides, telling yourself the whole time you didn’t get all done up for the new bouncer. Instead you tell yourself it’s because you want to get lucky with the guy that invited you to get last minute drinks conveniently at the bar you above.

Turning around to give your studio apartment the safety check, you shuffle over your baby blue carpet with loud clacks from your sandals to hurriedly straighten your pink comforter and snuff out your incense. Grabbing your bag, you rush out with a flip of the light switch, only getting two steps away before having to pop back in to grab your keys hanging by the door.

The platforms on your slides are heavy as you make your way down the staircase, the narrow hallway bouncing your steps off the walls despite the cushion of the ugly brown carpet. One hand on the banister and the other dragging along the wall for balance, you pick up your pace barreling towards the door. Pushing it open with more force than normal, you hit something on the other side, hard.

An oof and the sound of plastic skidding across the sidewalk is followed by the crash of a stool that must’ve belonged to whoever was sitting on it. Stepping onto the pavement with a clack from your sandals, you stop in your tracks when you see his broad shoulders first. Bent over, you watch him collect what looks like an orange Tamagotchi, stuffing it quickly in his back pocket before brushing the dust off his dark denim clad thighs. The way he fills his jeans has your mouth dry up and his muscles flex under the black cotton shirt that wraps tight around his torso, the seams barely containing what’s underneath. Turning around he runs a big hand through his honey colored locks that stop just below his ears, pushing the fly aways from his face while the shine of the street lamp highlights his cheekbones and sharp jaw.

God you hated when Eddie was right.

Hazel eyes rake over your form while yours follow the freckles that run along his neck that lead to small moles placed like a cluster of stars along his jaw. His chiseled nose runs down a narrow line with lips tinged pink like his cheeks. The expression on his face going from irritated to flirty in a matter of seconds flat, the whites of his teeth showing when he gives you an easy smile.

“I’m - oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m running late and no one is ever sitting there and I - Are you okay?” Talking a mile a minute, you hate that he has your nerves getting the best of you.  

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Raising his hands up to stop you, the press of your thighs is instant when you see the silver band wrapped around the thickness of his middle finger. “No apologies necessary, it was an accident, honey.”

The endearment leaves his mouth while his lips turn his smile crooked, and it makes you dizzy. Bending down to grab the stool off the ground, a matching chain slips out from under his shirt and the glow above gives you a glimpse at the patch of thick chest hair hidden from sight.

“Besides, it’s not the first time a pretty girl has knocked me on my ass.” Folding his arms across his pecs, he leans against the brick of the bar crossing his legs at the ankles. The black boots that cover his feet look big and menacing despite his disposition.

Biting your bottom lip into a smile, you look up at him through shy lashes and you swear you hear him sigh at the sight.

“Well as long as you’re okay-“

“Steve,” he offers his name with a flash of his teeth again, a spark lighting in his eyes when he sees the way you react to it.

“Well you’ll probably see my face around here a lot,” you say, doing your best to ignore the way your cheeks burn.

“I sure hope so.” Pulling a toothpick out of his back pocket, he slides it between his lips. Jaw clenching when he bites down on the wood while his eyes roam your curves again before offering you another grin.

It makes you do one thing a man has never made you genuinely do. You giggle. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you hardly recognize yourself anymore.

“I was gonna say, 'cause I live upstairs.” Your voice is sweet despite the roll of your eyes, his jaw clenches against the wood. He liked that.

He only breaks his stare to follow the path of your finger, his eyes lingering on your open window for a second before bringing all his attention back on you. The tension grows even thicker when he kicks off the wall, realization hitting him. The soles of his boots are loud against the pavement when he closes the distance between you with two long strides. Getting close enough to smell the cinnamon on his breath, and the expensive cologne that lingers on his bronzed skin, you forget all about your date waiting for you inside. 

“Eddie’s told me all about you.” Using the tip of his tongue, he pushes the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, his smirk telling you all you need to know.

“That’s funny, Eddie’s told me about you too,” you lick your lips, tasting the fruit of your gloss as you look up at him from under hooded shimmering lids, “Steve.”

He inches just a little closer to teeter on the edge of what’s appropriate before responding, “Oh yeah? Did you like what you heard baby?”

His smile is as sinful as it is blinding. A darkened gaze locked on yours as he pulls the tooth pick out his mouth letting the sharp end snag his bottom lip before stuffing it in his back pocket again.

The electricity in the air sparks and fizzes, standing close enough to see the freckles that line his nose and the specks of glitter smattered in a similar pattern on your cheeks. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Raising an eyebrow, your response has him sucking his teeth before rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek accepting your answer with a nod of his head.

Pulling out a small red flashlight with a soft click of the button at the end, white light floods the dark. The beam roams over the expanse of your body with a purposeful path before stopping at his outstretched hand.

“I.D.?” Amusement evident in his voice, he wiggles his fingers at you keeping up with his charade. The motion daring to make a mess of your underwear.

You try to cover up your laugh with a fake scoff, making it come out loud enough for him to snort. Your lips twitch as you try to fight the losing battle with the smile threatening to break across your face. 

“What? I need to be careful here sweetheart. It’s my first night, I gotta make sure you’re really who you say you are, and not just some pretty girl trying to flirt her way inside.” He keeps the perfect poker face while he tuts at you to hurry up for the invisible line behind you.

“Would it have worked?” you ask handing him your driver’s license, wincing internally at the picture he is about to see.

Brushing his fingers against yours when he takes it for closer examination, he huffs out a laugh before looking down at you with a smug grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He winks like an expert before making a big show of bringing your ID close to his face like it might be a fake.

Tsking to himself as he reads it over, he peeks over at you with a sly smirk. “A whole year older than me. Good for you, I like older women.”

Closing the space that developed when you had to dig in your purse, you snatch the plastic out of his hand, relishing in the way his breath hitches because of it. “I’m shocked you can read Steve, Eddie’s taste can be a bit…shoddy.”

“I think I’m pretty good at it actually, I’m good at reading a lot of things.” Ignoring your jab he’s quick to regain his confidence. “Things like, I don’t know, body language.” The spice of the cinnamon returns when he pulls out his toothpick again. He flashes you his pearly whites when he bites down, keeping his eyes locked on yours, a silent dare to prove him wrong.

Like magnets finding each other, the toes of his boots brush against your sandals. When did he get this close again?

Mariah Carey’s Fantasy cuts off any witty response that sits on the tip of your tongue as the bar door creaks open, rudely snapping you both back to reality. A boy who looks barely above the legal age is the culprit for popping your bubble, stopping dead in his tracks when the flirting bouncer’s attention redirects itself to where it should be. You already miss it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up, punk.” Grabbing the kid by the collar of his shirt, he mutters a ‘shit’ under his breath. 

You take a step back, your eyes meeting Eddie's from inside, the commotion catching his and a few other patrons' stares, including your date.

Oh yeah, you had a date.

“I’m gonna need to see some I.D.” Steve’s voice drops deeper after he clears his throat, if his tamagotchi didn’t beep right after, signaling it’s need to be fed it would’ve been more intimidating. Your own digital pet buried at the bottom of your bag probably doing the same, already reborn fresh this morning from forgetting it at home while at work the night before.

“Umm, you see, I left my wallet at home,” the kid starts to stammer, the metal of his braces showing when he gives the bouncer a nervous grin.

Almost forgetting he had an audience, Steve’s eyes meet yours, softening before that million dollar smile takes over his handsome face.

“You’re free to go in. You know where to come when you wanna talk about all those things you liked hearing about me.”

Your stomach flutters despite the roll of your eyes at his words and you're reminded crossing the threshold that you’re here to meet another man, already scolding yourself for not taking Eddie’s warning seriously.

“I bet you’d like that wouldn’t you, Steve?” You linger in the door frame, looking at him from over your shoulder, and it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“You already know the answer to that, gorgeous.” His toothpick switches sides again before finally going back to doing his job, tugging the kid closer.

“I.D. or no entry dick head.”

Despite there being no line outside, the bar was pretty full. The low buzz of conversation before the drinks really start to hit filling the crowded space. Mariah finishes her last high note when your eyes connect with Eddie’s before meeting Devin’s. He’s dressed like Danny Tanner and it makes you cringe. Pushing up his wire frame glasses, he waves so eagerly the Salmon’s that cover his dress shirt look like they're swimming in the background rapids with the movements of his arm. He’s completely oblivious to Eddie mocking him behind his back, mouthing ‘DORK’ with a shit eating grin before finally attending to the girl with smeared makeup that had been desperately trying to get his attention from the other end of the bar.

You take a deep breath, readjusting the strap of your bag before you push your chin up making your way over. Determined to have a good time, you put on your best face, returning his wave with forced enthusiasm while Steve’s smile etches itself into your memory permanently.

Paula Abdul’s Vibeology starts pumping through the speakers around you, the sticky floor vibrating with the bass under your sandals as you sway your hips to the beat. He stands up when you approach his spot at the bar and you notice his button up is tucked into mustard colored corduroy slacks, and it makes you miss the tight fitting denim of the man outside even more. Shaking your head to try and get rid of all the thoughts swirling in your head about the guy you weren’t on a date with, you desperately try to match Devin’s excited energy when he opens his arms for a hug.

“I was starting to get worried you were standing me up.” He laughs nervously as you tuck yourself into his chest. Your eyes peek over his shoulder meeting Eddie’s again as he slides your favorite drink over (tequila and pineapple), and god you wish you hadn’t.

Wiggling his eyebrows, you flip him the bird behind Devin’s back watching the bartender pretend to catch it and put it in his pocket making your eyes hit the back of your skull.

“No, sorry, I just lost track of the time.” Not a total lie you leave out the fact that you forgot about him completely just a few minutes ago. Pulling away, you avoid his eyes, too scared they’ll give you away.

“All is forgiven, pretty lady.” He bows slightly, and you have to ignore the way Eddie snorts as he walks past with hands full of Miller Lite.

“You’re so sweet,” cringing at how fake your voice comes out but Devin doesn’t seem to notice as you both take your seats, knees barely touching between the space of the stools.

“Thanks for agreeing to drinks tonight, I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now. Just didn’t know, w-with office etiquette a-and all,” stuttering, his nerves get the best of him. He tries to hide it behind a sip of his beer.

“No, I’m, I’m glad you did,”you lie, your eyes flicking to the door one more time before grabbing your drink. An awkward silence settles between the two of you as you press your lips to the rim to slurp at the top to prevent any spill over.

God, you already want this to be over.

The conversation does get easier after your first drink, the flirting a little less forced as your hand finds its way to squeeze his thigh when you laugh at something he says that’s only half funny. Choking on the foam from his beer from your sudden touch, he wipes his mouth bashful from his outburst. Eddie murmurs a “go easy on him tiger” when he gets you a refill, earning him your bratty tongue. 

“So you transferred here last year from Portland, right Devin? What’s it like over there?” Resting your chin on your knuckles, you look up at him from under your lashes enjoying the way it makes his breath catch.

“It was- It was a lot different from here…”

Finally on your A game, you try not to pay attention when the front door opens behind your date. It’s to no avail when you catch his figure in your peripheral and you can’t fight it anymore. All the progress you’ve made going out the window when Steve makes his first reappearance since your arrival. 

Toothpick replaced with what looked like Big Red chewing gum, his hazel eyes scan the crowd before landing on you. The smirk that you’d been trying to forget tugs at the corners of his lips, and any luck that Devin might have had with you tonight disappears like that.

The bouncer looks pointedly at the man beside you, sizing him up, smile stretching wider when he assesses his threat. Leaning against the wall, he crosses his arms across his chest so the sleeves of his shirt look like they are being pushed to their limits as the muscles in his biceps flex. Hips pushed out in a way that’s daring you to look below his waist, he throws you a wink with a snap of his gum.

“...So yeah, that’s the long and short , it,” Devin finishes with a proud smile and you just nod, not catching a single word he said.

Steve’s stare is relentless, and your body responds to it without you having to even meet his gaze. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, jaw clenching with every hard chew of his gum. Pushing himself off the wall, he starts a slow walk towards you. Big heavy steps bring him closer, every thud of his boots making your thighs clench, as you try desperately to stay concentrated.

Your date’s in the middle of another story that sounds like white noise, your lack of attention making him a babbling mess. He doesn’t notice the way Steve stops next to him first, giving him a once over from up close to make sure he wasn’t missing something from afar before coming up to you with the kind of smile that’s dripping with trouble.

“....So the logistics of it are kinda crazy when you think-“

“Just checking on my pretty new friend over here,” Steve cuts Devin off, not interested in anything but you. His large hand finds the small of your back, his palm almost big enough to cover the exposed skin between your skirt and top. It sends a shiver up your spine that the pad of his thumb soothes when it rubs circles over your sprouting goosebumps. “Having a good night, baby?”

The pet name falls so smoothly off his tongue that it takes Devin a minute to realize that it even left Steve’s mouth, a scowl souring his face when he sees the way your eyes glaze over looking up at the bouncer. 

“Yeah, I’m having a real nice time Steve.” Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, he notices the subtle way you lean into his touch. Your body needy for more.

“You better be.” He winks, letting the blunt ends of his nails scratch along your back before adding salt to Devin’s wound, “And you know where to find me if that changes.” 

There’s a knowing smirk that plays on the edges of his mouth, biting his lip he finally tears his eyes away from you to give a head nod to the date you’d forgotten about for the second time tonight. Steve tosses him a wink too, a gesture that makes Devin’s jaw clench. Steve opens his mouth to say something that was sure to piss him off more, but he’s cut off by the sound of Eddie’s rings slamming hard on the bar behind you. 

“Dude! What the fuck are you doing inside? Do you know how many people have walked in without getting checked? It's PEAK hours!” The bartender's eyes are frantic, fingers running through his curls as he yells at his friend. “Quit flirting and go do your job. Also, is that a fucking kid man?”

Eddie points to the boy that the bouncer stopped earlier who was snooping around abandoned tables in search for leftovers he was definitely not of legal age for, Steve’s cheeks tint the color of your lipgloss when he looks at you with sheepish eyes. The confidence he was dripping with disappears into embarrassment while doing his best to ignore the smug look on your date’s face.

“Calm down man, it was three minutes! I’ll get rid of the fuckin’ kid. Again.” He rubs the back of his neck as he walks away, stalking towards the boy who looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Hey asshole! You must’ve grown eight years in twenty minutes for me to be seeing you here!” 

The boy raises his hands up in surrender slowly backing away, giving Steve an opportunity to turn around to toss you one last smile and wiggle his fingers at Devin before focusing on the high schooler who is already halfway out the door. The kid's walk turns into a run when Steve cracks his knuckles for show, following him out with long strides, disappearing back outside and out of sight.

You’re left with awkward silence between you and your date as Eddie stomps away muttering under his breath. Devin clears his throat, twirling his beer, the glass against the wood making a sound that starts to grate on your nerves. He’s daring you to look at him. The huff he exhales afterwards begs you to look. Your mind races with ideas of how to get out of this and when you dare to finally take a peek, he’s looking forward, emptying the last of his bottle.

“I’m gonna go smoke a cigarette!” You blurt out, grabbing your bag and leaving no time for a response. Your sandals clack as you power walk to the door. To Steve.

The summer night is sticky on your face when you step out of the bar, the sound of a girl’s sniffled “You’re right Steve�� directing your stare to the bouncer you were looking for. Sitting on the very stool you knocked him off of, his big boots sit on the lowest footrest with his knees spread wide. Inviting. His eyes connect with yours, widening a bit when you smirk at him while getting yourself comfortable on the brick wall on the opposite side of the door. Digging your cigarettes out of your purse, you notice the girl next to him has mascara running down her cheeks that she only makes worse when she wipes them with the back of her hand. 

“You know Maryanne, it sounds like this isn’t the first time he’s done this to you. I think it’s time to kick him to the curb. You deserve better.” He speaks to her like they’ve been friends their whole lives and you have no idea how he’s learned so much about her in the few minutes he’s been outside. Crossing his arms as he leans back enough for the legs of the stool to pull up, he catches himself with his shoulders against the wall behind him. 

“He sounds like a chump if you ask me,”you chime in, lighting your cigarette. Steve’s smile shines under the pink luminescent sign above him when he hears your voice. The wooden legs of his stool smacking loud against the cement when he pushes off the wall.

She’s startled by your sudden appearance, not noticing when you came out - too lost in her own world. She gives you a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes before she nods, tugging at her high pony and somehow making it higher. The sequined scrunchy in her hair catches the street light as she tries hyping herself up to return to whoever was making her cry inside.

“He is a chump, but most men are.” She sighs, her shoulders relaxing a little more as she calms down.

“You’ve got this honey, tell him to fuck off and go home with Lisa if that’s what he wants so bad,” Steve champions, patting her on the back, a new layer to Maryanne’s story being revealed. His eyes flick back to you as you take a drag, the mossy green going dark when he watches your cheeks hollow.

“Thanks for listening Steve, I’m gonna go back in now.” She wipes her nose one more time, before giving you a polite head nod.

“Have Eddie make you something sweet, and tell him it’s on me.” The bouncer winks, giving her the boost of confidence she needs before opening the door you just came out of. Monifah’s Touch It adds to the tension between Steve and you when it leaks out of the bar as she disappears inside. The bass thumps against the brick, leaving the song just muffled enough to be background noise when it closes behind her.

The air is heavier, thicker with something you both know is there. Playing hard to get, you don’t meet his gaze, despite feeling it over every curve and dip of your body. Inhaling another hit of nicotine, you lift your head up to exhale the smoke into the dark sky, extending your neck for him to see before you finally give in and chance a glance in his direction.

He looks far too handsome, smiling wide when you meet his eyes, all his perfectly white teeth baring themselves at you in a way that makes your legs shake.

“Missed me already baby?” His feet hit the sidewalk, his man spread somehow bigger this way as he scoots closer to the edge of the stool. 

“You’re not very good at your job, are you?” You grin, successfully dodging the answer he already knows as your head hits the side of the building. Tilting your chin in his direction with your lip tucked between your teeth, you catch his narrowed glare.

“Nice try sweetheart, I used to watch Road House, religiously. I learned from the best. I’m just distracted,” the buttery smoothness of his voice returns, the last of his sentence coming out in a purr.

“Distracted?” You quirk a brow, not giving into him just yet.

“Yes, very much so and I regret to inform you that it’s all your fault too.” He sticks his bottom lip out at you in a pout, earning the giggle he’d been trying to get again since he first heard it, even if it's accompanied by your pretty eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“I’m on a date, Steve.” Even though you know it’s a weak comeback at this point, you still give it and he doesn’t miss a beat.

“Where? I don’t see him.”

Your cheeks heat up at his observation so you take another drag of your half smoked cigarette to try and hide the way he’s affecting you.

“I’m supposed to be quittin’, but you’re makin’ it look too good, pretty girl. Let me have a puff?” His question is an invitation, making the first move to call your bluff, to get you closer.

“Is that why you seem to have a cinnamon addiction?” you tease, not surprised when you kick off the wall accepting it with a smirk and an exaggerated sway of your hips.

He licks his lips while his eyes roam the length of your body unashamed, one large hand raking through his hair when you stop close enough to smell the topic of discussion on his breath. 

“Could be addicted to worse,” he murmurs, not sure where to look having you between his legs like this. 

“It’s a Newport, S‘that okay, Steve?” you ask him from underneath flirting lashes. His breath hitching before a sly smirk spreads across his pink lips.  

“More than okay baby.” He leans closer, fingers wrapping around the plush curve of your hip to anchor you in place.

Tipping up on your toes, your hand comes down on his thigh making the muscle flex against your palm, your touch sending shocks through the rough denim while the other holds the gloss stained end up to his mouth. 

Steve holds your stare when his lips wrap around where yours just were. His nails dig half crescent moons into your exposed skin as his cheeks hollow out. You can feel your heartbeat between your legs, your brows meeting in the middle when he tugs you even closer before tilting his head up. The thick expanse of his neck on full display as he blows out his drag, adam's apple bobbing in the light making the moles dance across his skin. 

“The strawberry really sets it off.” He grins as his hand dares to slide down the top curve of your ass, making it his new home when you make no moves to get away from him.

“Thanks, it’s my favorite gloss.” You shrug, pretending to unphased by his teasing, but the mess in your panties would give you away if he could see.

“Maybe I could get a better taste,” his words are bold, but his free hand is bolder. Soft fingertips play with the top hem of your skirt, daring to dip under the fabric every once and awhile and he swears he hears you whimper.

“You want more?” Your voice comes out small, dripping in honey just for him. You know what he really wants, but he’s not gonna get it yet.

“God, if you’ll let me honey.” There’s a light squeeze on the dough of your ass, and it makes you flutter around nothing.

You lean in slowly, your hand moving further up his thigh watching the way his chest starts to rise and fall from it. Stretching the cotton of his shirt with every breath. The fingers that had been exploring the top of your skirt start a path up to the bottom of your top. A low hum coming from under his breath when the sweetness of your body lotion hits his nose. 

His eyes shut when your faces get close enough that he feels like he can taste the strawberry that he wants so bad. He doesn’t notice when you pull back at the last second to replace your kiss with another puff until your cigarette shoves past his puckered lips. 

When he opens them, he’s met with your giggles, a sound he wants on a loop. He pretends to glare, still taking the hit you were offering him, exhaling it through his nose like an angry bull. He opens his mouth to chastise you but the beeping of his digital pet interrupts his intimidating moment again.

“Gotta get that?” Your lips twitch while you try to contain your laugh, flicking the cigarette onto the street.

“Listen, my best friend got it for me. I thought it was incredibly stupid, and I definitely told her it was too.” The hand on your waist leaves to dig his Tamagotchi out of his front pocket. “But now I’m attached to the little guy.” 

The key chain sized toy lights up in his hand, as he starts to feed it with a press of a button.

“Mine died yesterday,” you admit and the laugh you’d been fighting off echoes loudly when he looks up at you horrified. 

“What? Do you have it with you now?”he questions as the small happy tune plays signaling that his pet is fully satisfied. 

“She’s somewhere in my bag, don’t worry she was reborn this morning,” your words don’t reassure him considering they seem to need food every thirty minutes and you haven’t pulled it out once since he’s met you.

“Sounds like you want her to die again to me.” Steve’s very real concern about your Tamagotchi has you smirking.

“They die so easily, you’re telling me yours hasn’t died?” 

Your jaw drops when he shakes his head ‘no’, a smugness taking over his handsome features.

“Steve, that’s like really hard to do.” You don’t know whether you should be impressed or roast him but when his hand grips at your ass one more time you decide it’s the first.

“Better give her to me for the night baby, I’ll keep her nice and healthy for my favorite girl.” Stuffing his back into his pocket, he holds his palm open for you in a vow to keep your digital pet alive and an excuse to see you later.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you obey his wishes. Digging to the bottom of your bag till you find your purple one. The screen already going off, and the muffled beeping that signaled the need for it to be fed finally becomes loud enough to hear.

“See! I told you. On the cusp of death already.” 

You drop it in his hand, right as an older trucker comes barreling out of the bar reminding you where you’re at and that Devin is still waiting inside. Again.

“Fuck, I should go back in.” You sigh as your fingers play with the seam on the leg of his jeans.

“Go back in and tell that guy to get lost,” the bouncer almost whines, his grip on your hip tightening before he lets you go.

“Steve,” you huff but the smile on your face gives him hope.

“Just saying sweetheart, could be fun.” He shrugs, putting on an air of nonchalance while your Tamagotchi dangles from his thumb.

You both know who you really want to go home with tonight.

The bubble you and Steve are in pops as soon as you get back inside The sound of the distant cars on the freeway and Steve’s voice is replaced with Return of the Mack and the crowd that was at a simmer when you first got here is now at a full boil. 

You have to get rid of Devin.

He’s right where you left him, hunched over and twirling his beer bottle on top of the bar. You notice the three empty shot glasses before you see Eddie dropping off another one while giving you the kind of eyes that say ‘Come take care of your date’ as he walks away. Taking a deep breath, you make your way towards him going over all the ways you can let him down easy while your nerves drown out the little bit of guilt you had for ditching him.

“Heeeey,” your voice is high pitched, awkwardness dripping from its tone when you finally return to your stool next to him.

Crickets.

You freeze - he’s ignoring you. How can you get rid of him if he’s ignoring you? Your eyes shift around the bar nervously, offering an awkward tight lipped smile when anyone meets your stare. You search for Eddie again, hoping to silently ask for help but his back is to you, clearly putting the moves on a girl at the other end.

“Devin.” 

You hope that saying his name will elicit the desired response but that dwindles quickly when he chugs the rest of his beer, continuing his charade and keeping his gaze forward before slamming the empty bottle down.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he grumbles, irritation laced in every word before he pushes off the stool still not meeting your eyes.

You wait till he’s out of earshot before you let out a groan, your long disappearance clearly pissed him off. Propping yourself up by your elbows on the sticky bar, you close your eyes, rubbing your temples while you try to think of the right way to go about this. Eddie’s knowing chuckle is the last thing you want to hear but that’s just how the night is going now.

“You pretty little scoundrel!” He slaps the spot in front of you forcing your eyes open, his smile only widening when you glare at him.

“He’s so pissed and now thanks to you,” gesturing towards the empty shot glasses Eddie gets rid of with quick hands, you avoid the real reason, “He’s gonna be trashed!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa sweetheart. I’m not the one who can’t keep their hands off Stevie boy. And on a date too? Tsk tsk tsk.” He crosses his arms with a shake of his head, “Now you broke poor Derek’s -“

“Devin.”

“Whatever - fish guy’s heart. Aren’t you in a little predicament hmm?” Eddie hums the last part, but you can see the excited glint in his eyes. He loves watching your escapades.

“Listen,” you can’t help the giggle that bubbles past your strawberry lips under his knowing gaze, “When you told me he was hot Eddie, you didn’t tell me he was that hot.”

Smirking, you enjoy watching the way his face contorts knowing that was a damn lie.

“Are you kidding?” He throws his hands in the air, giving you the reaction you were baiting him for, “It was the first thing I told you.”

You laugh loudly at his exasperation with your antics, almost forgetting about Devin entirely for the third time tonight. 

“Have fun figuring out this little love triangle you’ve created, I need to get to the rest of the paying customers so I can get back to that hottie at the end of the bar.” He points to the girl he was talking to earlier who’s sipping a drink she looks surprised to even like.

“I bet you aren’t charging her for anything are you?” You narrow your eyes playfully, cackling when he rolls his waving you off as he walks away.

Sliding off the stool, you tug up your tube top, ready to give it to Devin straight, more than eager to get back outside again. 

“I knew the guys in the office said you were easy, but I didn’t think you’d be spreading your legs for anything that walked on our date.” Devin’s voice comes as a surprise, but the tight grip on your arm pulling you to him is an even bigger one.  

Searing rage fills every part of your body at the fact that he put his hands on you, palms flat on his chest, you use all your strength to shove him away. Shock paints his features, not expecting you to fight back so aggressively. All the drinks he’s had make him stumble back, losing his footing almost falling into the couple next to him.

“Well I’m sure as shit not spreading them for you!” you spit, looking him up and down with disgust before putting a finger in his face, “And your shirt? It’s fucking ugly.”

You give him one last once over before shaking your head and walking away. Heading back towards the entrance, you notice Steve inside again. A hard glare is set on his face, nostrils flaring as he zeros in on Devin behind you who’s still trying to regain his balance. 

God, it’s the hottest he’s looked all night. 

Steve’s hazel eyes meet yours and they instantly soften when you can’t help but smile as he opens the door for you.

“Thanks Stevie,” using Eddie’s nickname, you run your hands across his chest when you walk by, just to add salt to Devin’s wound.

The flush that paints his cheeks tells you how much he likes it.

“When I told you to ditch your date, I didn’t mean to fist fight him, honey,” he teases, following you outside, letting the chipped red door shut behind you and muffling the sounds of the bar again. 

“He got mad about my little disappearance before I could let him down easy.” Turning around, you bite your bottom lip to try to hide your growing smile.

“Poor guy.” Steve grins before taking the two steps to close the gap, to crowd your space. Cinnamon fanning across your face, “Never stood a chance.”

It’s harder for you to breathe when he looks at you like he wants to kiss you, but before you can respond, the door flies open.A drunk Devin stumbling out with a glare breaking you two apart.

“Of course, of FUCKING course. Not even two seconds later? You really are a slut, huh?” Devin seethes, stumbling out onto the sidewalk.

“I’m really going to need you to watch your mouth champ. No need to call girls names. You’re a big boy.” Steve’s tone is condescending as he squares up, making sure you’re behind him.

“You think you’re so fucking cool,” Devin scoffs before hiccuping, “Careful with this one, she’s probably sucked your buddy’s dick inside too.” 

“Yeah, that’s enough, asshole. Go home, before I have to beat some respect into that ugly skull of yours.” Steve cracks his knuckles again, but it doesn’t have the same effect as before, Devin only raising his eyebrows at the bouncer.

“Respect? That’s funny. The whore behind you hasn’t heard of it.”  

Steve loses his cool and like a flash he’s on him. Pulling his fist back Steve moves just a little too slow and Devin clocks him right in the jaw. The sound of bone against bone echoes loudly into the night. Stumbling back, Steve cradles where an ugly bruise will start forming in the morning, rubbing it out. He cracks his neck before barreling towards Devin, taking him down to the ground like a football player.

In a flurry of fists and cuss words, Devin somehow gets Steve pinned. The alcohol and anger flowing through his system turns him into The Hulk. Your screams for them to stop fall on deaf ears while they continue to roll around on the ground. Panic sets in when you realize neither man is going to stop. Doing the only thing you know how to do in these situations, you get Eddie.

Frantic, you open the door, ignoring the fact that  Third Eye Blind is playing at the exact worst time, you scream Eddie’s name loud enough to silence the bar.

“Eddie! It’s bad. Steve needs you!” 

He looks up from a clearly flirtatious conversation with the girl from before, both of their eyes landing on you as you get your friends attention. He grumbles, grabbing her hands saying something to her that makes her nod bashfully before jumping over the bar top. Jogging out the front, he towers easily over the two men, neither one of you bothering to check the red heads I.D. that walks in after you.

“The first fucking night man!” Eddie yells at Steve, grabbing Devin by the back of his shirt pulling him off the bouncer with ease, but not before Steve gets one more cheap shot in.

He wrestles against Eddie’s grip for a second before finally giving up with a hiccup, hocking a loogie in Steve’s direction.

“You done?” The bartender's face is unamused, as he waits for Devin to nod. “I never wanna see you or your shitty ass style at my bar again. Beat it bozo before I give you a matching black eye to go with the one Steve gave you.”

Two against one is too much for Devin to take on, so he raises his hands up in surrender when Eddie lets him go. Rolling his tongue against his cheek he shoots you one last glare before turning on his heel. Flipping everyone off as he starts down the sidewalk. Steve returns the gesture, spitting at his retreating form.

“You good?” Eddie asks, extending his hand for his friend to take.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just hate that guy.” Steve mumbles, looking everywhere but at you while he straightens his shirt and dusts off his jeans with bloody knuckles.

“Your hand dude, I can’t have you bleeding all over people I.D’s. and I know Rick doesn’t have a first aid kit. At least I’ve never seen one.” Eddie rubs the back of his neck, stress coming in the form of knitted brows.

“I’ve got one,” you mumble, finally finding your voice and the bartender claps, wiping his hands clean of the situation.

“There, go play nurse with lover boy and get out of my hair tonight. I’m like this close,” he pinches two fingers together to show “to scoring and you both have been fucking it up every chance you can get. I swear to god.” 

Eddie waves you off as he makes his way back in, and you can feel the shift in energy between you and the bouncer you’ve been wanting all night.

Steve’s quiet the whole walk up the stairs to your apartment, fuming with anger and embarrassment, the confidence from before gone while the bruise on his jaw deepens and he cradles his bleeding knuckles.

“This is me,” you break the silence cringing, your voice amplified in the walls of the narrow hallway while you dig out your key.

“Thanks for this, angel,” his words come out in just above a whisper but at least it’s something.

The endearment has a smile creeping across your face and you finally dare to turn around to get a look at him after you hear the click of your lock. You press your back against your open door, it’s your turn to extend an invitation.

“Anytime Stevie.”

His face softens the minute he lays his eyes on you again, jealous of the way you bite your bottom lip sweetly, he wishes it was him. 

You let Steve into your world one heavy boot at a time, locking the door behind you. Watching the way his dimmed eyes brighten, curiosity winning over any leftover irritation. The ghost of a smirk twitches at the corners of his lips while he walks the small space of your studio taking everything in. The neon sign outside your window is the only light that illuminates it, shadows dancing off trinkets on shelves and pictures on walls, he was getting a glimpse of you. 

He stops in the middle of your room, right at the edge of your bed. The dark denim and leather that cover him are a stark contrast against your baby blue rug, but you think he looks like he belongs here. You watch the way he takes in your hastily made bed, licking his lips when he sees a pair of panties that didn’t quite make it in the laundry basket in the corner. The radio you’d forgotten to turn off plays a commercial, filling the space between you, and you aren’t prepared for when he puts his full attention back on you again after not having it for the past twenty minutes. Your body responds immediately to the playful glint in his eye.

“Cute place, for a cute girl.” He grins, running his good hand through his hair before he walks over to the window to take a look at your view.

“I bet you say that to all of em’,” you tease because it’s easier to do with his back to you. Making your way to the bathroom, nerves burst like butterflies in your stomach.

“You’re the only one baby.” 

His response is quick as he turns around, the flirting you’d grown accustomed to coming back like a raging storm. He watches your hips while you walk the short distance with a heavy stare that covers every part of you. Leaning against the door frame with your curves on full display, something shifts behind his eyes. Flipping the lightswitch, white beams break apart the pink, highlighting even more of you for him to drink in.

“Come on handsome, let’s get you patched up.”

His cheeks flush at the new nickname and it's his turn to bite his lip in a shy smile for you. 

It doesn’t take more than a few steps for his long legs, the wood creaking under his weight. Pressing your back to the frame, he stops in front of you with one foot over the threshold and the other still in your room. He takes up so much space. His biceps flex when he reaches for your hip, tugging you even closer, you can smell the menthol still lingering on his breath. On instinct your palm hits his chest, muscles dancing under heated skin as you tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. Squeezing at your softness before he speaks, he lets his middle finger dip under the top of your skirt.

“I really meant it when I said thank you back there. Just need you to know that.” His finger dares to dip lower, rubbing circles that make your back arch, hips pushing forward on a search for his. The curve of your stomach touches the cool metal of his belt buckle and the heat of his body sets fire between your thighs.

“I know you did,” your voice is sweet for him, the tone you know he likes while your hand moves down the dip between his pecs, “Thank you for sticking up for me.”

You can feel the coarse hair that starts at the top of his belly button where your hand stops, and you swear you feel him twitch in his pants. A second one of his fingers finds its way under your skirt and another subtle tug gets you even closer. So close that all you’d have to do is stand on your tiptoes for your lips to touch. 

“Anything for you, pretty girl,” he breathes, spice and tobacco taking over. His adam’s apple bobs when he catches the way you start staring at his lips, the gloss on your own shimmering in the new light.

“Anything?” Quirking your brow with a smirk, your innuendo makes him moan and his hold on you tighten.

“Absolutely.” Ducking his head lower so his nose brushes against the bridge of yours, he dares you to make the first move.

“In that case…” Pressing your toes down to push yourself up, the playful glint in your eye goes unnoticed by him.

Your lips are a ghost, his top one barely brushing against your bottom, it's enough for him to taste the strawberry he wanted more of outside but not enough to satisfy. His eyes flutter closed waiting to feel their full plushness but your words bring him back to reality.

“Sit on the toilet for me.”

The specks of emerald shine again when his eyes snap open to see you flat on your feet with a grin. Groaning loudly with fake irritation, he lets go of you in exasperated defeat, letting his head fall back and hit the wood of the frame.

“What? We came up here for my first aid kit, didn't we?” You giggle after you say it, you don’t mean it.

“Sure, sure, yeah, yeah.” Nodding, he runs a hand through his hair while he looks around your bathroom. 

It smells like your coconut body wash and it drives him crazy. He takes an unexpected step forward, his hand finding its way back to your hip to push you against the wall. One heavy boot between your wedged sandals, getting just close enough to kiss you. Is he going to?

It's your eyes that flutter closed this time, your fingers wrapping themselves around his belt loops again. He’s tentative with his injured hand when he uses it to cradle your jaw. His palm is soft as it covers half your neck, his thumb pushing up against your chin to tilt your face up to his. He runs the tip of his nose along your cheek and you feel your knees start to get weak, a whimper begging to fall from your parted lips.

“If that’s the only thing we’re here to do then we should get to it then, huh?” 

Just as quick as he invades your space, he leaves it. The porcelain of your toilet seat cover clunks loudly when he drops himself on it. Spread out like on the stool outside, he takes over the room, leaving you to catch your breath with a smug grin.

It’s a staring contest with narrowed eyes after that, but the twitch of your lips tells him you aren’t actually mad. He snorts when you clear your throat to regain your composure, purposely ignoring the obvious when you bend over to open the cabinet under the sink, pulling out the bright red zip up bag. 

“We need to wash your knuckles first, then I’ll put some ointment on them and wrap it up for you. We’ll keep it that way for the night and we can check on it in the morning.” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them and he catches the slip up instantly.

“Oh? You need to keep me overnight for observations?” 

You bite your lip to try and hide your smile, grabbing a washcloth running it under hot water instead of looking at him. 

“You know what I meant, I’ll come check on it tomorrow when you get to work.” You don’t even believe your lie, and the toothy smile you catch from the corner of your eye tells you he doesn’t either.

“But nurse, I don’t know. I think I should stay, I got hit in the face too. Concussions you know? I really shouldn’t be alone tonight.” He lays it on thick, eating up the way he sees you loving it spreading across your face when you ring out the soapy rag.

You don’t try to hide it when you finally face him, or when you settle between his legs for the second time tonight. The new position has him eye level with your chest, easier access to his lips. You hold your palm out for him, your hand disappearing completely when he drapes his wounded one over it.

“Concussion, huh? Are you feeling light headed Steve?” You play along giving your best impression of a medical professional.

He hisses when you press the damp cloth to his knuckles, sucking in air between his teeth when you start to clean. The soothing circles the pad of your thumb rubs on the side of his hand is almost enough to distract him from it.

“Yeah, but that started before I got hit.” 

You finally dare to meet his gaze, a flattered smile spreading wide across your face that you try to play down with a roll of your eyes.

“Hmmm,” you hum to yourself, deciding not to give in just yet as you switch from the rag to the ointment, getting the bandaging and medical tape out.

“I mean, you’re the professional honey. You tell me.” You feel his good hand tug at the bottom of your skirt while you smear the neosporin on his knuckles with a q-tip, his long fingers flexing at the cooling effect.

“It started before you got hit?” You question with a fake pensive expression, gently taking his palm in your hand to start the wrapping process. 

“Yeah, you see, this girl hit me with a door earlier. Knocked me clean off my stool.” He makes the motion of him falling with a swipe of his hand, “ and I haven’t been the same since if I’m being completely honest.”

It takes everything inside you to not give him the satisfaction of a laugh, the way you met coming back to the forefront of your mind.

“Some would argue putting your stool in front of the door like that is kinda stupid, but that's just my professional opinion.” Your shrug earns a loud laugh from him and you relish in it, promising yourself you’ll get him to do it again.

“All done.” You let go of his hand and he already misses you holding it, but the proud look on your face is a good distraction while you admire your handy work.

He holds it up, and you still can’t get over just how big they are. Curling his fingers in before extending them, he only winces slightly from the pain. The pressure of the bandage already helping. He jumps slightly when the backs of your fingers smooth over the fresh bruise forming on his jaw, the stubble tickling your skin. His eyes watch yours as they rake over the damage, the softness of your touch almost enough to make his eyelids heavy when you stroke the sore spot again.

“What do you think, huh?” His question comes out quiet, the playful edge gone while both his hands find the back of your legs. Rough fingertips run up your calves, catching the bottom of your skirt as they go, “Are you gonna keep me baby?”

A shiver runs up your spine when he hits the back of your thighs and you feel yourself getting pulled closer. He drags his nose up the bare skin of your sternum while his hands grab doughy handfuls just below the curve of your ass. The sound of your moan when his fingers get high enough to just barely graze the soaked material between your weakening legs sends him into overdrive. Growling, he nips at the tops of one of your breasts.

“Come on, tell me, what’s it gonna be?” Despite trying to sound confident, there’s a desperation in the way he asks. He knows you want it but he needs you to say it.

It’s when his fingers slip under the lace trim of your panties that you finally give in with a gentle grab of his chin. His eyes are black when they meet yours, the ends of his nails digging into soft skin. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna keep you.” You give into an urge you’ve had since you laid eyes on him, tangling your fingers in his hair as you spread yourself open for his hands to wander.

He doesn’t hold back anymore and you’re reminded of just how tall he actually is when he stands up. His actions are quick and with purpose, the strength you knew was behind those muscles showing itself when he lifts you onto the edge of the sink with your skirt rucked up to your hips. He man handles you in a way no one ever has and you feel it light a fire in your gut. Impatient for his next move, you grab the collar of his shirt while his hands spread wide over the tops of your thighs, your lips finally getting to do what they’ve wanted all night.

It’s soft at first, both of you moving slow as you figure out what the other likes, careful not to hurt his jaw. One of his hands finds its way back to your cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbing the length of the bone while his tongue begs you to open up. He traces the top of your lip, shuddering at the taste of the strawberry and it makes him wonder if your skin tastes like the coconut he smells. 

You give him the access he wants, your tongues meeting in the middle, making the fire that had been begging to consume you pour out from your fingertips that bury themselves into the roots at the nape of his neck. You need more. The hard length that has been fighting against the denim of his jeans presses hard into where you want his attention, your legs wrap around him - silently begging him to do it again.

One arm snakes around your lower back, holding you flush against his chest, the grind of his hips giving you the friction that makes you keen. A moan and a breathless “fuck” is what breaks your lips apart when his zipper catches your swollen clit with just the right amount of pressure. He uses his new found freedom to kiss down the length of your jaw, humming against your heated skin when you tilt your head to give him better access to all the sensitive places he can’t wait to discover. He sucks the soft spot behind your ear when you meet the next roll of his hips, your slides falling loudly off your feet to the tile floor.

“Steve,” his name comes out in a high pitch whine when he starts sucking a bruise in a place you know you’ll have to try and cover up for the next few days. He was marking you, and you could care less. You hold him there, encouraging more as his teeth graze your pulse point, a “baby” slipping past his lips when he finally pulls away.

He meets your eyes with flushed cheeks and messy hair and the kind of hunger that makes you melt.

“Let me take you to bed, let me take care of you,” he’s panting, his hold on you tightening so you can feel just how bad he needs this. A smirk spreads across his swollen lips when your hips shift in search for more, giving him the answer he needs along with the nod of your head.

Just as easy as he lifted you on the sink, he carries you to the bed, big hands cradling thick thighs before he lays you on your back. Your giggle fills the space in between heavy pants before TLC’s Creep starts playing over the speakers of the radio. His hands find their way to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head and you watch an expanse of new freckles and moles get revealed to you. You want to kiss them all. They dot the spots next to the dark hair over his belly button while the thick thatch of chest hair you’d only gotten a glimpse of glistens with beads of sweat in the glow of the Foxy Lounge light. 

His jeans hang low enough for you to get a glimpse of the veins protruding from the V shape that leads to the part of him that’s sure to make you forget your own name. His grin is cocky when he recognizes the expression on your face. Grabbing your ankle, he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. The bottom of your foot resting on the soft hair of his chest while long fingers hold you in place. He keeps his eyes trained on yours while he starts to trail wet kisses down the inside of your leg. The stubble covering his jaw scratching along his path in the best way. He stops when he gets to the soft skin of your knee, nipping playfully, he smirks at the squeal it earns him before he drops your leg in favor of curling his fingers under the top of your skirt.

You lift your hips for him without him having to ask, and the flash of his teeth is almost enough to blind you. He’s slick with his movements, taking your panties too. You hear his breath catch in his throat when he sees the effects all his teasing has on you. His fingers grip at your thighs before pulling your sticky skin apart with a lick of his lips.

“Look at you baby, all this for me?” The last part of his question comes out in a groan when he swipes the pad of his thumb against your bundle of nerves, kicking up in his jeans when your legs shake in response. “So sensitive too. Let me make her feel good, yeah?” 

He swipes his thumb against your clit again making your eyes shut tight and your hips buck.

“I need to hear you say it.” He keeps rubbing circles, applying just enough pressure for you to forget how to speak, “Come on, be a good girl for me.”

His other hand pulls down your tube top, breasts spilling out in the blush light for his eyes to devour. He groans at the sight, his other hand coming up to cup the soft flesh feeling the way your nipples pebble against the warmth of his palm.

“Steeeeve, please.” 

You’re whining for him and it makes his brows pinch together, feeling drunk off you. 

“God angel, you’re fuckin’ beautiful you know that?” He emphasizes his question with his hands, giving your sides a squeeze while his eyes roam every dip and curve of your body. “Turn around for me? I wanna see all of you.”

The look on his face makes you decide that you’ll never deny him anything he asks, giving him a nod, you run your hands up his arms, nails dragging across the light hair before you push yourself up to get on all fours.

You feel completely exposed to him like this, all the secret places of your body on full display. He’s quiet for a minute and it’s almost enough for your nerves to get the best of you until you feel his palm find the apple of your ass. Fingers digging into doughy flesh, a groan loud enough to drown out the music erupts deep from his chest.

“Baby, baby, babyyy,” he emphasizes the last endearment with another handful before pulling your cheeks apart to get a better look at your dripping cunt, “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever fuckin’ seen.”

Your hips wiggle at his words, your walls fluttering around nothing while the cool air from the overhead fan hits your heat, sending goosebumps dancing across your supple flesh. A dark chuckle leaves him when he sees how much power his words have over you. His knees hit the side of the mattress, one hand hooking around your hip while the other runs down the dip of your spine giving you a light push when he hits your shoulder blades until you're bent over for him.

“She likes when I talk to her, huh?” his voice is low, mesmerized when you start dripping on the bed for him and he’s barely touched you, “She likes when I call her pretty doesn’t she?”

The moan that leaves your mouth is pathetic and he wishes he could record it. 

“Playing hard to get all night, but look at you.” His good hand comes down hard enough on your ass for the fat to jiggle and you to fist handfuls of your comforter because of it, “Making such a filthy mess and I haven’t even put my mouth on you yet.”

His grip is rough when he tugs your hips, the outline of his dick pressing into you, the denim scratching against your clit in a way that has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. 

“Tell me how much you want my mouth baby, tell me how much you want me to make you cum.” He grinds against you again, only this time making sure to apply the kind of pressure that makes your back arch.

“Fuck - Steve, please I want it. I’ve wanted it all night. I’ve wanted it all night,” you're babbling as he circles his hips, fingers kneading your soft skin.

Satisfied with your answer he mumbles a “so good for me” as he pulls away he gives you another light slap to your ass - signaling for you to scoot up, your mattress dipping behind you when he gets on his knees. 

Big hands spread you apart, your forehead hits the comforter when you feel the heat of his breath against your slick folds. Your walls flutter, begging for his attention when his tongue runs a long stripe up your slit. He hums at the taste before he does it again, this time making sure to circle your clit before lapping up everything you were drenching him with like he was thirsty for it. 

“Oh my god,” you huff into your blankets, toes curling when he starts an assault against your bundle of nerves, the pointed tip of his nose pressing deeper into your entrance as he gets lost in the sounds he’s pulling from you.

His fingers stretch across the tiger stripes on your butt cheeks, pulling you even further apart to give him better access. The coil inside you already threatening to snap when he sucks hard on your clit. He lets it go with a loud pop, smirking to himself at the way he has your body shaking from overstimulation already.

“Taste so fuckin’ good. Strawberries, just like your lips.” He groans, inhaling your scent like a man starved, his good hand coming down on your cheek again only this time a little harder pulling out another broken moan from you.

“Can I taste all of you pretty girl?” 

There’s zero hesitation when you say ‘yes’, in fact it’s a little desperate. He could have whatever he wanted from you now. Not even sure what he means, your brain’s too fuzzy with lust to comprehend anything until you feel the tip of his tongue circle a place you’d never let anyone else go before.

“Holy shit - Steve.” The new sensation sends another wave arousal to your dripping core, a needy whine following it when he does it again.

“This okay?” He kisses the curve underneath the apple of your cheek, the softness of his voice comforting you while he checks in.

“God, it’s, it’s -“ He gives you another kitten lick and it makes your eyes roll in the back of your head, “It’s more than okay - Jesus Christ.”

Too lost in the feeling of him testing the tightness of you with his tongue, you aren’t expecting his thick finger to start circling the entrance he’d been neglecting, the one you need him to fill the most. Your silk walls welcome the intrusion with ease, the stretch only stinging a little when he pushes to the last knuckle while his tongue starts getting a little more bold. Your back arches when he groans against you, curling his finger to hit the spot only you’d ever been able to find with ease. He adds a second digit when you start bucking against his face, the new addition almost makes you run away. He tsks at you from buried between your butt cheeks, one large hand locking you in place when he starts feeling you get close.

“Give it to me,” he demands, coming up for air. Fingertips relentless against the spot that has you squelching loudly.

His mouth returns to the sensitive part of you, tongue circling your tightness in a way that has you finally snapping. Your walls constrict, wrapping around his fingers while your vision goes white. Your body freezes, the orgasm overwhelming your muscles with a violent shake, his name falling from your lips like it’s the only word you know. You feel him grin against you, the movements of his fingers only slowing down but never stopping, milking every last drop you give him.

“So good, so pretty when you cum baby,” he mumbles praises, his lips kissing anywhere they can reach while your body comes down from its first high. 

You feel his weight leave the mattress, hear the metal of his belt buckle clinking followed by the low thump of his jeans hitting the floor. You find enough strength to look over your shoulder and it’s enough to make you whimper. Steve’s big. Dark hair at the base, it’s thick and curved, the pretty pink tip leaking just for you. The long vein that runs up the side pulses when he gives it a couple of tugs before his knees hit the mattress again. 

His hands spread over your hips pulling you closer before he starts trailing kisses up your back, the silver of his chain making you shiver as it runs up your spine till his lips stop right at your ear.

“You ready for me?” 

Your eyes meet his and they’re pitch black, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you know yours looks the same when you give him a nod but you know that’s not going to be enough for him.

“Come on, you know what I need,” his tone is mocking as he grabs his cock at the base, swiping his head through your folds, smirking at the way you try to suck him in, your body greedy for him.

“Please, please, please, please.” 

All your self respect goes out the window when he pushes the tip in and you can’t stop repeating yourself. The stretch is already bigger than his two fingers and he wasn’t even half way in yet and for a brief moment you wonder if he’ll even fit. 

“Fuck - baby.”

He moans as he pushes further, sheathing himself half way and he feels the way it makes your legs shake. His hand sneaks around your waist to find your clit, slippery fingers rubbing circles to get you to open up more as he rolls his hips one more time bottoming out. He groans so loud you’re sure anyone who might be smoking outside of the bar can hear him. 

“Holy shiiiit, I’ve never had pussy like this.” He stills, adjusting to how tight you feel, and it’s his turn to babble as you constrict around him making him twitch -  dangerously close to cumming already.

“You feel so good Stevie,” you whine as you push back against him, taking his length even deeper, feeling every curve and ridge of him against your walls.

He pulls out half way before slamming back in and it makes him curse under his breath before he does it again, only harder.

“God, fuck- this is all mine now, yeah?” he mutters, an angry edge to his words when he thinks about Devin getting to do this. 

“Mmhmm,” your answer is automatic, no thoughts behind your eyes while his cock fills you in the way you fantasize about when you touch yourself. 

“That’s right baby, it’s mine. You’re mine.” 

His thrusts get aggressive as he gets closer to his release, your slick making it easy for him to slide almost completely out before pushing back in. The rough hair covering his pelvis rubbing your clit at the same time his tip reaches the same spot his fingers pulled your first orgasm from. 

“Shit, Steve, right there.”  Your jaw goes slack, eyes closing tight when he hits it again, your words spurring him on while he tries to re-grip his hold on your sweat-kissed skin.

“Yeah? you want more?” He makes sure to put all his attention where you want, slowing his hips just enough to hit it even harder. “I’ll give you more.”

Steve tilts his head to the side watching how you wrap around him, and the way he barely has to push back in, your greedy walls doing almost all the work when he finds the perfect pace that has you twisting the sheets.

He huffs out a cocky laugh and it makes you tighten in response, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.”Yeah, I know baby. I know. You gonna cum again for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you manage to get out with a nod but it’s not enough for him, he needs you loud enough for Devin to hear from across town.

The sound of skin slapping against skin drowns out the music, keeping his stamina up despite the twitch of his cock, he bends over, somehow getting deeper, the cool metal of his chain dragging across your back while one hand snakes under your waist. His fingers are unrelenting when they find their way to your puffy clit again, applying just enough pressure to get your legs to shake for him.

“I’m gonna ask again, are you gonna cum for me?” He keeps his voice even, but he knows he’s not gonna last much longer, especially not when your cheek hits the mattress and you meet his eyes looking like that.

“Yeah, god, yeah Steveee! Please, please, please.” You don’t even know what you’re begging for but it makes Steve’s resolve break. 

The moan he lets out is loud enough to echo off your wall, warmth flooding your insides as he cums hard enough to collapse against your back. It’s enough to send you over the edge for the second time. Your walls fluttering enough to make his nails dig crescent moons into your hips with a low “fuck” escaping him as you milk him for more with the sweetest chant of his name he’s ever heard.

“That’s it baby.” He coos lips placing sloppy kisses along the your shoulder blades when you collapse against the mattress, your bodies tangled in a way you don’t have the energy to leave quite yet.

The radio cuts out leaving just the sound of the two of you trying to catch your breath, you can faintly hear ‘Pony’ playing from the bar below but the sound of a car driving past quickly snuffs it out. You feel his nose nudge against your ear, a slow lazy smile creeping across your face when his lips brush your temple.

“I don’t think you have a concussion, but you better stay the night just in case.”

His laugh vibrates against your back, a toothy grin pressed to your skin.

“It’s always better to be safe than sorry,” he agrees. The response you somehow managed to conjure up gets lost on your tongue when both your long forgotten Tamagotchi’s go off in his abandoned pants in a matching tune you’d never heard before.

“Our babies need daddy, honey,” he groans, slowly lifting himself up on his elbows.

You roll your eyes with a snort as he trails kisses down your back only wincing slightly when he pulls himself out. Folding your arms under your head, you still can’t bring yourself to move, but the view of him naked and still semi hard while he holds the two digital pets in his hand with a confused expression isn’t one you really can turn away from.

“What?” Your curiosity is piqued when his eyes grow big.

“No fuckin’ way,” he mumbles more to himself than you, “I didn’t even know they could do this.”

“What??” The irritation is clear in your voice, the feeling of being left out turning you into a brat.

“Umm, I think they had babies… yep. Marty definitely got her pregnant.” The smile on his face gives away just how excited he actually is and you hate to admit that it’s contagious.

“Well we’re gonna have to figure out a child support plan I’m afraid. Daisy’s a free woman Steve.” The serious delivery makes him do a double take before he narrows his eyes.

“Child support? No, we're raising these kids together. So I’m gonna need you to care a little bit about keeping her alive. It's not just you here honey.” He tosses you the toy before jumping back on the bed pulling your body into his chest with ease, “I’m afraid you’re never getting rid of me.”

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[dollyyss]

The main four + butters and how they hug you!

I had to add butters because he’s such a fucking cutie! I’m so sorry these ideas are ass I’ve had such bad writers block but I’ve wanted to get some stuff out for this page!! My requests are open if you’d like to leave a request!!

Established Relationship! All characters are 18+

Kyle, Stan, kenny, Eric, Butters

~

Kyle Broflovski:

- his hugs are so warm, gentle and so full of love. One of his many favourite moments with you are sharing hugs.

-he’s quite tall, so majority of the time your stuck stuffing your face in his chest and smiling at his warmth. He’ll sometimes sink down a bit to your level so he can rest his face in the crook of your neck and breathe in your soft scent. He’ll always have his arms around your waist and usually your arms are around his neck and if they aren’t his hands are finding them and putting your arms there himself.

-we won’t always hug you in front of the boys, often. It’s not that he doesn’t want to trust me he does he’s a love sick puppy. It’s just cartman he’s afraid of. Not afraid of him but more afraid the teasing if you two are being touchy with each other. He doesn’t want cartman to get to you so he tends to protect you from him quite a lot. But if cartman isn’t around he’s happy to have you on his lap, arms around your waist whiles yours wrap around neck, laying your head on his shoulder and listening to him talk to Stan or any of the other boys.

-whole hugging like this, normally he’ll have a hand around your waist and another placed on your thigh, softly rubbing his thumb back and forth in a soothing motion. A few kisses will be planted to your head in between his conversations. At this point the boys have learned to ignore it.

-He’ll normally hug you when he picks you up from your house to walk to school, when he’s dropping you off at home at any point, or if he hasn’t seen you in the morning and you arrive to school on your own. If you don’t have a class together right away he’s sure to find you and give you a tight squeeze, lips attacking your ear playfully as he tells you to focus in your class.

-..also. Before and after his basketball games.. before is completely fine but after prepare for the sweat. He tries to make the hug quick so you don’t get dirty so this is really the only time he’ll side hug you.

-don’t worry you get a tight hug once he’s all clean.

Stan Marsh:

-he’s the super SUPER cuddly one. I’m talking will hug you at any time doesn’t matter where or what you’re doing he’s hugging you. He’ll always have his hands at your shoulders, it’s to keep you close against him, his fingers drawing soft circles on your back while your hands find your way to his own back, squeezing him causing him to let out a soft grunt.

-When he was Wendy as a kid he was touchy like any kid would be in their first relationship. Lots of hand holding, hugging but things changed a lot over the years, and now that he’s freshly eighteen he’s been so fucking touch starved it’s nuts. Sure at parties he’d hook up with random girls, not often but he did but it wasn’t enough.

-so once he finds you oh my god he’s touchy all over. It’s constant hugging.

-he’s not one for PDA much, like Kyle he’ll do it in front of specific people but if you’re at his or he’s at yours he’s all over you. I’m talking anything you do he’s hugging you.

Kenny:

-he’s a back hugger 100%.

-Up at the front getting supplies your teacher told you to get? he’s following close behind and wrapping his arms around you, chin on your shoulder as he watches you grab your things and getting extra for him.

-He likes to smoosh you, I’m talking will hug you from behind and then for fun take his large hand and place it over your face just to smoosh it. He’ll laugh when you smack his hand and his head is back to its normal resting spot on your shoulder.

-loves PDA! He’s constantly hugging you in front of his friends as much as they rip on him, he couldn’t care less. He’s a touchy person and he wants to feel you near him as much as possible.

-“Ken, I’ll be there in a moment baby why don’t you sit down and get the movie ready” his grip on you tightens as he softly grinds against the back of you, his teeth sinking into your shoulder “but babbyyyyy” yeah. When he hugs you like this which is almost always.. he’s probably grinding on you at some point.

- all in all his hugs can be quite comforting actually. The feeling of his chest warm against your back, his arms around your shoulders or waist. He always lets his fingers dance against you for a moment before rubbing at your sides or shoulders and placing a kiss to the back of your neck.

Eric Cartman:

-He’s actually quite a nice hugger. As a kid he was pretty chubby but as he got older he built a bit of muscle, so his hugs end up being quite soft, despite the muscle flex every once and a while.

- in public he won’t hug you, no he’ll most likely have a hand on your hip and and that’s about all oh but when you two are alone. That’s a completely different story with Cartman.

- When he’s feeling nice, vulnerable his hugs consist of him having one hand at the back of your neck and the other at your lower back, his face his nuzzled deep into the crook of your neck while he feels you play with his hair, your hands soon coming to give the hug back. If he’s standing he’ll sway like this for a moment, if he’s laying down he’s probably the little spoon, slightly curled up and falling asleep to the feeling of your warm breathe against his back.

-but his normal hugs are somewhat quick, hands around your waist and then that’s it. You can’t complain really at least he’s hugging you, giving you affection. From what you’ve heard and most definitely witnessed he’s an asshole big time but you appreciate the soft moments with him. So any hug is nice.

Butters:

-he’s such a cutie fucking patootie. He’s a smoosher but in a way different way then Kenny, where as Kenny messes around Butters is serious. Mf is squishing his face to yours, his hand pressed against your cheek to press to his cheek. He wants to be close.

-he hugs you gently, but with enough force to keep you warm and feeling safe. He likes to place a hand on the top of your hand while the other pulls you in by the back of your shoulders, softly letting his thumb draw patterns over your shoulder blades.

-this is where the smooshing starts, he’s rubbing his cheek on yours, pressing his nose into yours, his lips are all over you as he makes the hug tighter.

-not really a hug but he loves to carry you, like giving you piggy back rides, carrying you bridal style from school the car, or on the way home. He just loves holding you in anyway he can

-“well darlin, your feet look like they hurt..” “I’m okay butters” “please.. I-I won’t drop ya I promise and if I do you can slap me silly” you can only giggle as he bends down to your level so you can jump on his back.

[alltaternotot]

The Recovery Plan | N. MacKinnon

Summary: Nathan and Y/N have a date planned, but a nasty cold gets in the way.

WC: 2K

CW: Sick fic! Bad communication, slight insecure reader, so the tiniest little bit of angst. Tooth rotting fluff, Nathan is a sweetheart. Confessions, swearing, lightly proofread. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hart trophy and best boyfriend award goes to this fella!

<><><><>

You let your phone ring and ring, then go silent, the third call coming through and going to voicemail.

One thing everyone knows, you, his teammates, the media, basically the whole hockey-enjoying public, is that Nathan MacKinnon is a health nut. Like, twenty-four hours a day, never shuts off kind of health nut. In the few months you had been exclusive, he had maybe three cheat days, and had never seen you sick. So when you woke up with chills, a fever, a cough, and a head stuffed to the brim with pressure, you decided to let Nate’s calls go to voicemail and curl up in your cocoon of blankets.

He was leaving in a few days for a long, important road trip, and you were not going to be the reason Nate couldn’t play. A cold was absolutely unacceptable to pass along to him. No amount of phone ringing or anything else could convince you otherwise. You would just have to instacart some NyQuil and some soup and tough it out solo. You were not going to bother him with your issues when he had much more important things to be worrying about.

The problem was, today was Nate’s off day, and the original plan was to meet up at your favorite cafe for a light lunch, then take a trip to Red Rocks. There was absolutely no way that was happening now. You hoped he would just assume you were tired and make his own rain check of the date. You didn’t let the thoughts swirl too long before falling asleep.

Nathan was completely and utterly worried.

You had never blown him off like this, not once in your year-ish long friendship or your few months of dating. He knew you always had your phone on you, and there really wasn’t a good reason to not have it. He was calling from the cafe, now 15 minutes past your arranged meet time. After dialing you about five times, he dialed Miles Wood instead, who happened to live in the same complex as you.

“Hey Dogg,” Woody answered, “what’s up man?”

“Hey, um, have you seen Y/N? I’ve called her a bunch, we were supposed to meet up but she isn’t picking up the phone.” Nate explained, hearing a faint hmm on the other end.

“I haven’t. I’m a ways out from home otherwise I would go check for you. Maybe she forgot?” Woody offered, secretly hoping it wasn’t that because of the awkwardness that would ensue if that was the case.

“Ok, I’ll go check on her. Thanks Woody.” He said, and hung up the phone after their goodbyes.

He threw on a cap and his sunglasses, making sure he had all of his essentials before locking up and getting in the car. You had given him a spare key in case of anything, so it was going to be no problem getting in. He just hoped for the best, but still assumed the worst secretly. He had a nasty habit of doing so sometimes.

Once he arrived at your complex, admittedly speeding a little to get there, he found your car still parked in its reserved spot. That was slightly relieving. He basically skidded into the guest spot and hopped out, locking up quickly. He chose to take the stairs up to your floor, deeming it faster than waiting in the lobby for the elevator. Your door was locked, understandably, the irrational thoughts slowly leaving his anxious mind. He slid the key into the lock, twisting and opening the door softly to a dark apartment.

Not a single light was on, the only light coming in from the window in the living space. It was very, very quiet, unusual for the space when you were in it. He loved how you lit up every room you graced. Things were tidy and normal, so no crazy robbery and kidnapping. He roamed around, looking for a sign from you in the kitchen, the living space, and the balcony, finding nothing.

Finally, he came to your bedroom, slowly twisting the handle in case you were inside, he didn’t want to startle you if you were. He noticed the black out curtains drawn, the room completely dark save for your salt lamp in the corner. Your floor was messy, tissues littering the ground and stacked high in the trash can. Your phone was on the nightstand, plugged in face down. Your bed was an absolute mountain of blankets unlike anything he had ever seen, just a tuft of your tangled hair sticking out the top on the pillow.

“Oh, baby.” He muttered to himself, a pang of guilt washing over him.

Now he understood. His girl was sick and sleeping while he was definitely ringing her phone off the hook. He stepped closer, trying to find you under all of that fabric. Your head was poking out onto your pillows, hair a mess and cheeks blazing red. You had a crumpled tissue in your hand. He stuck his hand out, running the back along your forehead. You were roasting under there, but he could feel your body shivering from the chills. You stirred, but didn’t wake.

He quickly stood straight, leaving you with a quiet click of the door. He locked up, dashing back down to the car and speeding to the local Walgreens. He filled his basket with all sorts of cold and flu necessities: medicine, cough drops, peppermint tea, your favorite Gatorade, a few of those crackable instant cold compresses, and a thermometer. He hoped no one would stop him in here, wanting to be as fast as he could. Luckily it didn’t appear that anyone knew or cared that he was there, shouting a thanks over his shoulder.

The next stop was Whole Foods, so he could grab some chicken noodle soup that was remarkably close to how his own mother made hers, when Nathan or his sister were sick as children. He threw in a sandwich for him to eat later, an extra couple of your favorite drinks and a chocolate croissant for you when you were feeling up to it. He checked himself out, making his way back to your apartment as quickly as he could. He walked back in with everything, trying to be as quiet as possible. He quickly set up a little tray of soup, medicine, and gatorade. He heated up some water in your kettle and steeped a couple of the tea bags. He cracked the cold compress and wrapped it in a paper towel before making his way back to your room.

He set the tray down on your desk, walking over to your window to crack it under the curtains, airing out the stuffy, overheated space. He checked the thermometer, making sure it was calibrated and working. Now he could finally sit down on the edge of your bed, and start the Nathan MacKinnon recovery plan.

He placed the thermometer on your forehead, dragging it across and down, 102.2F flashing back at him when it stopped thinking with a beep. That made him worried, more than anything else. He grabbed the cold compress, resting it on your forehead so, so softly. You stirred again, this time waking up. The throbbing pressure in your head had only gotten worse, the pain now rattling your jaw and your teeth. You were sweating under all of those blankets, but so impossibly cold at the same time. You groaned in pain before rolling over into a heavy mass that was dipping your side of the bed. Nate’s hand found your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in feathery dashes.

“N-Nate?” Your voice coming out hoarse and patchy. “No, no you need to get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere, babe. You need to break this fever.” He said, his hand sliding down to brush over your shoulders.

“No, you can’t get sick because of me. You have so much to worry about right now, I’ll be fine.” You insisted, watching his face slide into a sad frown through sleepy, delirious vision. “I’m just gonna instacart s-some meds. Go home before you catch this.”

“I beat you to it already. I’m not leaving so you can stop trying to convince me.” He crouched down, “do you think you can sit up to take something?”

You nodded, gingerly sitting up, trying to keep the pain from getting any worse. The blankets slid down as you sat up against the head board, now noticing that you had slept until 3:30pm. You guys would have been enjoying the beauty of Red Rocks by now. Nate grabbed the tray of goodies from your desk, setting it down gently. He popped the two gel caps out of the package, silently asking for your hand before unscrewing the cap to the Gatorade.

“We need to keep you hydrated, so keep taking sips of that,” he mentioned, watching you weakly swallow the cold medicine. “I hope you like chicken noodle soup, it’s very good.”

He picked up the spoon, taking some and guided it to your lips, letting you take a few bites. It definitely helped to settle your stomach, but chewing was painful. You honestly had no strength for more than half of the little bowl of soup, so Nate picked it up and returned it to the desk, placing the Gatorade next to you again. This time, Nate rounded the bed, climbing in and grabbing the remote, earning little hoarse nonononono’s from you.

He didn’t listen, of course, just adjusting so your head was resting in his lap, pulling a couple of the endless blankets up over your shoulder. He laid his hand gently over the cold compress, keeping it in place, while he picked an easy watch kind of show. Finally he sent a text to Woody, letting him know you were ok and that they were going to have a sleepy day in. His hand found your head, dragging his fingers through the tangles so you wouldn’t have to brush a huge birds nest out of your hair when you were back on your feet.

“Nate, please go, I can’t even imagine getting you sick. You guys have h-hard division rival teams coming up, they need you more than-“ you tried to reason.

“I told you already that I’m not leaving. Your fever was pretty high, and you needed to eat and drink something. I’m here to support you, whatever that looks like, and today it looks like this.” He explained, calmly and softly like it was the easiest decision he had ever made, “plus, I’ve been with you the last two days, slept here, and I haven’t gotten sick. And if I do get sick, I’ll figure it out with the staff. I’ve done it before.”

“I ruined the whole day, and my body hurts, and I don’t want you to have to deal with me right now.” You said, your eyes beginning to mist up with frustrated tears, “please, I promise I can deal with it.”

He realized you had begun to cry softly, a couple of tears dripping onto his shorts, “oh baby, you didn’t ruin anything!” He turned your body so you were laying face up, his hands coming to brush away your tears, “Also, I’m not dealing with you, I want to be there for you when you’re struggling. I don’t want you to handle it by yourself. This is just what you do when you love someone.” He rambled, the words coming out quicker than he could think.

He… loves you?

That’s the first time either of you had said it. He had planned to take you on a nice date, give you flowers, wine and dine the hell out of you, before finally telling you he loved you. Of course he knew he loved you, so he gave up the momentary wave of apprehension and went with it. No time like the present, even if that present was stuck in bed with a brutal cold.

“You love me?” You asked, choking on the words a little bit.

“Yeah, I do.” He said, looking deep into your eyes for any sign of rejection, “and I want you to be ok, so rest. We can talk about it more when you’re ready to.”

You turned back towards the tv again, Nate grabbing the cold compress to put back on your head. You close your eyes, feeling sleep call you. Nate returned to carding his fingers through your hair, keeping a slow and steady pace. Every once in a while he would run the compress over your neck and shoulders, trying to cool your burning body. The meds were already helping to bring the fever down. He could feel your breath begin to even out against his leg.

“Nate?” You asked, almost too quiet to be heard.

“Hmm?” He hummed, leaning down to hear you better.

“I love you too.” You admitted, feeling his lips press into your head before sleep overtook you again.

<><><><>

:)

[shes-a-badkid]

I’m finally catching up with 911 other than random clips Ive seen and I finished the first episode of season 8 and I’m starting the second and here are my thoughts so far-

- ridiculous as always, keep it up (fucking beenado, it’s been killing me since I heard about it. I need a whole syfy movie about it immediately)

- did Jennifer Love Hewitt always have a nose ring during 911 or is this new? Like have I just missed it all this time?

- Gerard sucks and I can’t wait to see him go bye-bye 🖕🏻

- I hate that it’s gonna take as long as it does for Hen and Karen to get Mara back (I’ve already been spoiled from a random clip- I don’t care, I was too excited and happy it wasn’t gonna be a whole season thing, but also I don’t know exactly how but I hope that bitch councilwoman gets it)

- I can’t even talk about the whole Chris thing, I’m just sad. Like I totally get why he would be (rightfully) pissed. But also, fuck Eddie’s parents

- is it just me or is Bobby like extra cunty on that tv set?

- Angela Bassett looking like a goddess per usual

- I can’t tell if Brads a little nuts or just intense either way I kind of love him and I’m sure he will only be here for a few episodes but I know I will miss him.

- Oh Buck, bbygirl….

[lulublack90]

Prompt 17 - Body

@jegulus-microfic March 17 Word count 964

Previous part First part

CW- Stabbing with a dagger and sword

With most of the day left, they thought they’d push their luck and try to talk to the Grey Lady. 

They apparated into caves on the outskirts of Hogsmeade that Sirius told them about. Eight people apparating into Hogsmeade at the same time when, more than half of them were either death eaters or associated with them. Plus, they couldn’t risk being seen with James, Sirius or Lily. 

“This is pretty cool,” Evan said in awe as he looked around the caves. “How did you find them?”

“Padfoot likes to wander off sometimes,” Sirius answered as he prepared to disapparate and get Pandora. Only he, James and Remus knew where the caves were to apparate into, so they had to side-along the others.

Regulus rolled his eyes. Of course, his brother was still a pain in his animagus form.

Once they were all gathered again, they cast disillusionment charms on themselves, apart from James, who had his invisibility cloak. They made their way into the village, muffling charms on their shoes in case anyone heard them. 

They quietly broke into Honeydukes and went through the hidden trapdoor. They probably could have arranged an easier way into the castle, but that would require too much delay with Dumbledore. This way was far easier. 

They walked quietly down the passageway, visible again, while no one could catch them. 

Regulus fiddled with the dagger still in his robes pocket. He’d always loved it. It was small yet insanely sharp, easy to slice into your enemy’s body without them ever seeing it coming. He cast a few charms on it as they walked, checking to see if anything had been imbued into the blade. It appeared to be a perfectly ordinary knife with no special enchantments or poisons. 

“Remus?” He asked as casually as possible. 

“Yeah, Regulus?” Remus dropped back to walk beside Regulus. 

“How are you with healing spells?” He asked, not looking at Remus.

“Capable. Madam Pomfrey showed me the basics growing up, and I’ve learnt a few more since. Why?’

“Hey, Sirius?” He called his brother over. Sirius bounced towards him. He was far too excitable for what they were on their way to do. 

No sooner was Sirius in front of him, walking backwards with a stupid grin on his face, did Regulus’s hand shoot out and jab him in the side with the dagger. Sirius stopped and looked down. 

“Regulus, what the shit?!” Remus rushed over and started casting disinfecting and healing charms on his boyfriend. He turned, his eyes glowing even in the low light. 

“Explain!” He growled, keeping Sirius behind him and away from Regulus. Sirius’s disgruntled face popped around Remus’s shoulder. 

“Is that Bella’s knife?” He asked, squinting in the low light. 

“She said I could have it as long as I promised to use it on you. I was just fulfilling that promise. I checked it was just a knife before I stabbed you.” Regulus shrugged. 

“Oh, and that makes it all better, does it?” Remus snarled. Regulus was seeing more and more of the wolf shining through. 

“Reg, you are such a dick.” Sirius rolled his eyes at him but grabbed Remus and carried on walking. 

“Regulus, why would you think that was okay?” James asked, sighing deeply at the situation.

“He gets it. I barely nicked him with it, and this way, I can tell Bella I got him with it, or she’ll know I’m lying. Plus, he stabbed me all the way through with a sword when he was 10. This is payback.” James had to stop. 

“What do you mean he stabbed you with a sword?!” 

“It was an accident. He set off a firework in the house, and it knocked over a suit of armour, and the sword sort of went through me.” 

“You’re both absolutely nuts! Once this war is over, you are both going to see a mind healer and lots of therapy! All the therapy!” James strode off after the others, shaking his head. 

The rest of their journey went off without any more mishaps. They disillusioned themselves again and headed towards the Ravenclaw Common room. 

The Grey Lady was strangely easy to find. She was gliding along the corridor outside the spiral staircase which led to the Common room. 

They had agreed that Pandora should be the one to talk to the ghost, as she’d spent the most amount of time around her as apparently she was shy. 

“Hello, Helena,” Pandora’s airy voice filled the corridor even though she wasn’t speaking loudly. The ghost paused and stared at the blonde woman. 

“You again?” Her voice faded in and out as she spoke. The others were shocked. They’d never heard the ghost talk before. Pandora beamed. 

“Yes, me again. We were wondering if we could ask you about your mother’s diadem?” A change came over the ghost so quickly that James, Remus and Evan pushed their respective boyfriends behind them. 

“Another asked about it, and he defiled it with dark magic!” She yelled, blasting through each of the people standing in the corridor. Regulus shivered with the chill from her passing. He stepped forward, watching her as she came to be still again.  

“Please,” He pleaded. “We want to destroy it. We want to erase what he did. Will you help us?” Helena Ravenclaw floated to Regulus and stared into his face, only inches between them. Regulus stayed still, letting his mask slip away from his face and hoping the determined good intentions showed through. 

She narrowed her eyes at him and moved closer, whispering in his ear, her cold breath freezing his ear slightly. 

“It is here. In the room that changes with the broken and lost things.” Remus’s head snapped to look at Sirius. He knew where it was.   

Next part

[twostepstyless]

Better Than a What?

Fic Advent Calendar: Day 1

Advent Calendar Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SFW

Authors Note: Door number 1 is officially open and what a better place to start than with Harry desperately trying to get ahold of something to keep up the tradition. Likes, reblogs and feedback in any form is welcome and always appreciated, my loves x

Word Count: 4.3k

***

“Ray, she’s going to be so sad, I can’t look her in the eye and let her down like this,” Harry stressed to his driver from the back seat of the car as he knuckled sleep from his eyes. It was early, too early for that matter and Harry had just landed back in London after a long and uncomfortable flight back from the U.S. He was supposed to be back a few days ago but a then a storm in the U.K that caused cancelled flights then the mass rebooking of flights caused Harry’s travel itinerary to be thrown up in the air. As the nights passed and the days trickled closer to the 1st of December, flights were getting busier and filling faster as people began to make journeys home and away for the festivities or for some winter sunshine. Harry just wanted to get home. God, he’d bloody missed her and the few unexpected additional days that he didn’t have planned into his countdown to get back to her was driving him a little stir crazy. 

“If it’s the Y/N I know, she’ll just be happy to see you, she’ll get over it, Harry,” Ray, his driver, tried to console a stressed-out Harry as his eyes flicked up to see him in the back seat pinching his lower lip while frantically scrolling his phone. 

“I jus’ wanted it to be perfect and I’ve already made an arse of it,” Harry muttered as he felt Ray shift down the gears, slowing down to take a right turn into a car park. The car park was, unsurprisingly, empty, given that it was 6:04 A.M on a Thursday morning. Harry looked up at the screen in the car as Ray pulled into a spot near the door, seeing the bold 1st of December date that was haunting him and the temperature that was sat at a frigid -1° Celsius. He unclipped his seatbelt and bolted from the car, pulling his beanie down and the hood of his jacket up to protect him from the bitter wind chill. He had to catch himself as his foot slipped on the edge of a frozen over puddle as he double timed it across the car park, the last thing he needed was to rock up at home not only empty handed but with scraped and bloody palms from an embarrassing fall in a car park. The bright lights were leading him toward the building much like the star to the baby Jesus Harry thought, but he was more hoping his fluorescent guiding star would take him not to a stable but to a cardboard sleeve with 25 perforated doors stamped on the front. 

***

‘This year Tesco have created the Christmas Party-’ blared over the PA system as Harry entered the store that opened minutes earlier in haste as he flinched at the loud noise. He paced the aisles looking for their Christmas sweets and bolted down aisle 4 when the first glimpse of a selection box and a Terry’s Chocolate Orange came into view. His eyes flitted over the shelves, but he was in so much of a blind rush he wasn’t really processing any of it. There was a tired looking member of staff filling up the red tartan packages of shortbread just next to him who, fingers crossed, would be his angel Gabriel as he approached them.

“Scuse me, good mornin’, I know this is mental today of all days but, advent calendars?” Harry tailed off his question as the staff member jumped having not seen anyone enter the aisle alongside her. 

“Oh, um you’ll be lucky if we do, if you just follow me down here," the colleague wandered further down the long aisle, pausing near the bottom, “looks like just the dairy and gluten free ones and Reese’s left,” they pointed out the products to Harry. 

“She’s allergic to nuts,” Harry sighed, stumped as to what to try next, as the staff member gave him a sorrowful smile, “my Missus is going to kill me,” Harry laughed quietly as Sandra, Harry has finally caught site of their name badge, let out a soft breath of laughter hoping to ease Harry’s mind. 

“I’m sure she won’t, m’love,” the sweet, older lady pat his arm, “but, between me and you, I’ve heard the corner shop 15 minutes down the road from here are overrun with advent calendars,” she gave him a sly wink and a soft smile. 

“Y’absolute diamond,” Harry all but cheered but being the only customer in the shop thought he’d better reign it in. “I’d kiss you, but I can’t, then she’d definitely kill me, thank you s’much,” Harry joked before smiling gratefully before speed walking toward the exit, hoping this time he’ll miss the frozen puddle as he sprinted across the empty lot. 

***

He threw himself in the back of the car again, fastening his seatbelt as Ray piped up from the front seat again, “petrol station was a no, that’s Sainsbury’s and Tesco both a bust, where to next boss? I don’t think there’s an Asda round here,” Ray pondered, “and I think Y/N would be more offended with a posh Waitrose one than not getting one at all,” he let out a snort. The version of Y/N that Ray had become acquainted with was a woman of simple pleasures and a 10 quid advent calendar out of Waitrose was certainly not a simple pleasure to her, or at all necessary for that matter and Harry knew he was right. He distinctly remembers them being in a Waitrose two Christmases ago and hearing her mutter something along the lines of, “fucking Tory chocolate, imagine making an upper-class advent calendar, what’s wrong with the one quid Cadbury’s one?”

“Corner shop,” Harry gasped out catching his breath, he had actually sprinted across the car park the second he exited the shop and yes for your information, he did miss slipping on the puddle this time. “The corner shop closest to the house, f’you don’t mind Ray,” Harry directed, feeling a bit more confident, this little hole in the wall shop near their house has everything and little, old Ernie who ran it, has yet to let them down. 

***

Harry was back out the car and entering the minuscule shop 15 minutes later, the bell over the door twinkling as the door passed over it. The shop was warm, it always was, Ernie had two plug-in, oil-filled radiators burning in that shop year-round. He had decorated for the holiday season, bits of tinsel taped round the bottoms of the shelves and some foil decorations straight from the 80s hanging from the ceiling.  Ernie peering up from behind the glass cabinet he kept the pick’n’mix sweets in, his ancient cash register sat atop it that he refused to replace because “if it isn’t broken don’t fix it,” he reassured. He was clad, as always, in his brown overcoat, reminiscent of an old greengrocer’s, his thick-rimmed glasses with lenses even thicker so they made his eyes appear bigger than they were and of course, his signature tweed flat cap. 

“Mr Styles,” the elderly gentleman proclaimed, his weathered hands clapping together as he spotted Harry entering the shop. “Long time no see, been away again, m’boy?” Ernie adored Harry as if he was one of his own, his oldest grandchild was a similar age to Harry and since they lived so far away as soon as Harry started appearing in Ernie’s shop, when he moved into the area when he was 18, Ernie had all but taken Harry under his wing and would always be a kind face to Harry if he needed it. 

“Ern! It’s Harry and you know it,” Harry gave him a faux glare before propping himself up on the glass cabinet in front of Ernie. “Yep, jus’ back and how lucky are you that you are the first face I’ve seen,” Harry bat his eyelashes with a bright smile on his face before pinching a sour cherry sweet from the pick’n’mix tubs Ernie was stocking up for the day ahead. 

“Not even that lovely girlfriend of yours?” Ernie asked, swatting Harry’s hand away from the sweets. “She’s popped in every day since you’ve been gone, you’re punching well above your weight with Miss Y/N, lad,” Ernie jested.

“And since when did Miss Y/N become y’favourite?” Harry gulped down the sour candy. 

“She’s everyone’s favourite, is she not?” Ernie shrugged. 

“I’ll jus’ send your Christmas present back then, will I?” Harry quirked an eyebrow up before relenting, “I suppose I can’t argue with that one, speaking of Y/N, she’s the reason I’m seeing your face before hers this cold and frosty morning,” Harry smiled sheepishly. 

“Knew it, what do you need, Harry m’boy?” 

“I need to get her an advent calendar,” he said shyly, “I know, I know it’s the 1st today and I’d usually have it by now, but I’ve been away and everywhere is already sold out,” Harry quickly justified, “and a little birdy told me you were the man to save me from the guilt of causing Y/N’s sad face.” 

“I did have a lot left yesterday morning, but they flew out the door all afternoon and last night,” Ernie started, as Harry’s shoulders dropped, what the hell was he going to do. 

“S’alright Ernie, I’ll figure something out,” he said sadly, mentally preparing to try every shop in the vicinity before going home to her.

“Here you, you didn’t let me finish,” Ern snapped Harry out his daze of trying to work out the closest shop to try next, knowing he was going to have to organise getting Ray paid overtime or some form of bonus for putting up with this, this morning. Harry quickly looked up at Ernie, seeing a glint of playfulness in the old man’s eye. “I was going to say, they were flying off the shelves all day yesterday and was down to my last few when I realised, I hadn’t seen you around,” Ernie turned his back on Harry and shuffled into the back room that was hidden away behind a beaded curtain that rattled and clicked as the beads bounced off each other when you passed through it. “An I jus’ thought to m’self, I bet young Styles will come calling at one point,” he called through from the back room, “so here we are,” Ernie came back with two distinctive purple rectangles that housed a Cadbury’s advent calendar in each. There it was, Harry’s version of baby Jesus, wrapped in carboard, and the corner shop was his stable. Did that make Ernie the virgin Mary then? Wait not important right now. 

“Ernie, y’bloody… y’bloody angel,” Harry’s eyes lit up as Ernie shuffled back up to his place behind the till. 

“What can I say? We aim to please,” Ernie was bashful at Harry’s compliment as Ernie tried to hand over the two advent calendars. 

“Jus’ the one, Ern, keep that one for yourself, how much do I owe you?” Harry fished through his pocket for his wallet. 

“M’wife’s had our advent calendars in the house since mid-November, she’s organised,” Ernie said pointedly.

“Oi,” Harry objected. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve been away working. Keep it though, it’s yours,” Ernie smiled shoving the two calendars into Harry’s grip. 

“M’trying to lay off sweets,” Harry let out, still in disbelief he managed to get his hands on them. 

“Harry, you’ve stood there and ate a 10 pence mix-up worth of sour cherries since you’ve been in here,” Ernie and Harry looked down at the tub the offending candy lay in, and sure enough there was a dent in the pile shaped like Harry’s fingers. Oops.

“Well, how much do I owe you?” Harry asked again. 

“Nope, a Christmas present for my two favourite customers,” Ernie shoved his hands in his pockets so he couldn’t accept any cash off the young man. 

“Oh, give over, Ern, how muc-” Harry was cut off. 

“No, Harry, now I’m going in that back room until you leave, I don’t want your money, jus’ don’t make my Y/N sad, alrigh’?” Ernie began his scuffle back into his back room. 

“Your Y/N?” Harry called after him. 

“Yeah, my Y/N, now get home to her before she wakes up without you,” Ernie stuck his head back out the beaded curtain to tell Harry off quickly before disappearing again. Harry hummed a quiet laugh, gripping onto the advent calendars under his arm. 

“I’ll be back with your Christmas present at one point, Ern,” Harry called into the empty shop as he made his exit, knowing Ernie was listening for the twinkling bell that announced Harry’s leave, sounding out into the warm shop that was now, officially, sold out of advent calendars. Much to Ernie’s dismay, Harry had stuck a £10 note under the corner of one of the pick’n’mix tubs, that should cover the advent calendars. And the sour cherries.

***

It was 6.30am now, and Ray had just dropped Harry off at the house, sliding his key quietly in the lock as to not disturb the serene quiet that was cast over the house in the early morning. It was still dark out, and Y/N was expecting him back today so had left the porch light and the ceiling light of their entryway on for his return. Harry slipped inside the house leaving his bags by the door, he’ll deal with them in a while, after some time spent with his love. He kept the precious cargo of the advent calendars in his clutches. As he stood, he heard the rhythm of clip-clopping feet across the floors. Or should he say, the rhythmic clip-clopping of paws round the corner to greet him at speed.

“Hi Vince, m’boy,” Harry reached down, after depositing the advent calendars on their entry table, cooing softly before giving the golden retriever plenty of scratches behind his ear where he liked it, all while Vince tried to lick at whatever patch of Harry he could reach. All while his furry bum wiggled in excitement. Harry got down onto his knees to hug the dog closer to him, “you’re getting chunky, mummy’s been feeding you extra good since I’ve been gone again, eh?” Harry squeezed as Vince’s sides, there was definitely an extra layer of squish there that wasn’t before he left, if Y/N heard him commenting in it, he’d for sure get a row saying he was fat-shaming the dog and, ‘he’s just fluffy, Harry, leave him alone, look you’ve upset him now,’ when Vince was most definitely not upset as he basked in the extra attention from his parents.

“I think me n’you will be going for a run tomorrow morning, hmm?” Harry clutched Vince’s head behind his floppy ears as Vince began to grumble, the tell-tale noise he always made before barking. “Hey, hey, hey, Vincent,” Harry chastised, using the dog’s Sunday name, the golden retriever named after Y/N’s favourite painter. “No barking, you’ll wake Mum and I’m trying m’best to stay on her good side, yeah? Back to bed for a little while mate, an’ I’ll make you scrambled egg for your breakfast.” Vince seemed happy enough with that, nuzzled into Harry’s head for a second before giving him a sly lick along his cheek before trotting back to his bed in the living room. Harry got back to his feet, finally shedding his jacket, and kicking his shoes from his feet, the shoes left in a heap by the door and the jacket bundled into a ball on the entry table where he swapped it out for the advent calendars. 

He crept quietly upstairs, hoping his entrance and early morning meeting with Vince hadn’t disturbed his sleeping girlfriend. Along the hall, he saw the door to their bedroom opened a crack, just enough for Vince to push open if he wanted to come up for a cuddle, or more likely, Y/N called for the dog to come up because she wanted a cuddle. Harry pushed the door open softly, the hinge of the door giving the faintest squeak as it gave way. What a site, there she was. His Y/N cocooned in duvet, blankets, and pillows, lying on her stomach, head turned to the side, her face was pressed into what was usually Harry’s pillow, hair in some sort of pile on top of her head, curled tendrils and frizzy wisps of hair escaping it and framing her beautifully squished face. She was out for the count, as Harry smiled at her sleepy form. His feet carried him across to their bed in a daze, as he sat on the edge of the bed, his free hand coming up to rub the furrow from her brow and hold her face in the palm of his hand, the difference in temperature between her skin and Harry’s hand stirring her from her deep sleep, her hand coming up to slap whatever was disturbing her off her face only to be met with the back of Harry’s hand as she gripped it quickly. 

Squinting one eye open, “Har?” she croaked out, keeping her hand on top of his as his thumb brushed the high point of her cheek. 

“Mhm, good mornin, love,” he smiled down at her. 

“You’re back,” she sighed, her hand removing his from her face, tangling their fingers together, “you’re cold,” she stated. 

“S’minus 1 outside,” he confirmed as Y/N pouted before wriggling backwards in their bed and opening the duvet to him, eyes still partially scrunched closed. 

“In please, don’t like you cold,” patting blindly on the space in bed next to her she wanted him to crawl into. 

Harry left the advent calendars on the bedside table before laying down with her as she flopped the duvet back over the pair of them as Harry brought her over to cuddle up to him, her eyes fluttering closed as her face found the crook of his neck. “Thought you always liked me, hm?” he teased lightly, thrilled to have her back in his arms. 

“I do, I love you all the time, but I don’t like you being cold,” she explained, lips pushing against his neck in a kiss, he’d lay one on her good and proper when she came round from being asleep a bit more. “Fligh-,” she cut herself off with a yawn, “flight good?” she asked.

“Was as good as it can be for a 10-hour flight, slept a tonne,” Harry’s hand ran laps up and down her back as her own hand found purchase on Harry’s midsection, nails scratching his stomach over his clothes. 

She hummed in response, letting a silence fall over the pair, if you listened closely, you could hear Vince padding around downstairs, playing with one of his toys, clearly not loving the idea of going back to bed when he had the promise of scrambled eggs for breakfast on the brain but leaving his parents to it, he’d get his food when they came down. “What did y’put on the bedside table?” she questioned after remembering hearing him set something down.

“Ah yes,” Harry reached over grabbing the offending objects that just looked like two purple blobs to Y/N without her glasses or contact lenses as she reached blindly behind her for the frames on her own bedside table before popping them on her face and blinking herself awake. “Oh, there she is,” Harry smiled fondly at her, finally seeing her eyes wide open, looking more herself now. 

“You remembered,” Y/N pouted as Harry handed over her advent calendar as he put his own back on the table. The tradition had started when Y/N had first moved out of her parents into a place of her own, her and Harry were relatively new at that point and didn’t expect anything when she told him.

“D’you know what she said to me, she goes, ‘your too old for me to be buying your advent calendar now, Y/N, plus you live 4 hours away from us, what do you want me to do? Pop by after the food shop?’ my own bloody mother. I bet you any money she buys my brother one because he only lives a few streets over.” 

So, Harry showed up at her front door, early, on the 1st of December that year with a Cadbury’s advent calendar he had paid a quid for (thank you very much Tesco Clubcard for the money off) and so began the tradition of getting Y/N’s advent calendar for her every year.

“’Course I remembered, had that organised for ages for me coming back, m’heart,” Harry lied through his teeth while acting as nonchalant as possible. 

“You went and got it this morning, didn’t you?” Y/N saw right through him every damn time.

“Landed an hour earlier than I told you I would, had to go to four shops,” he smiled sheepishly. 

“Knew it, liar,” she lay the calendar on the duvet before she pinched his side and kissing him on the cheek. 

“Ernie saved my arse in the end,” Harry admitted. 

“Good ol’ Ernie, eh? H, y’know I wouldn’t have really been angry if you didn’t get me an advent calendar, right? Would’ve played it up a bit obviously because God knows I like the attention, but I never would’ve actually been upset with you, I’m not that much of a cow,” she said seriously.

“No, no I know, but it’s tradition now innit, I would’ve been way more upset with m’self if I didn’t manage to get it, so get it opened, sweetness,” he pushed the calendar back into her grip. 

“Open yours too then, Ernie must have had loads left if you got yourself one too,” she waited for Harry to grab his. 

“No actually, last two left, tried to tell him to keep it for himself but he insisted, told me he had his already,” they both searched their calendars for the elusive number 1. 

“Oh, yeah his wife told me she sorted the two of them with calendars weeks ago... fuck me, have you found it yet?” Y/N complained, thinking she had found it in the middle but was disappointed when she saw it was door 11 instead. 

“Oh! There it is, bottom right next to the 17, how do you know Ernie’s wife?” Harry looked at her incredulously before having to point out door number 1 when Y/N still couldn’t find it. 

“Ernie’s wife?” Y/N dug her thumb into the perforated cardboard to pop the door open. “Oh, Sandra, yeah, she works in the-”

“Tesco down the road,” they said at the same time. 

“How do you know that?” Y/N questioned him as she tore open the foil covering of the chocolate hidden below. 

“Long story,” Harry laughed before popping his own chocolate out and laying it flat on his hand, “c’mon then, what did y’get?”

“Little chocolate stocking? Is that meant to be a stocking or is it a sleigh?” she squinted at the sweet as Harry peered over at her hand and was just as stumped. 

“M’sure it’ll taste the same either way. I’ve got a much more distinguishable snowman,” he held up the chocolate in her before tossing it in his open mouth as Y/N did the same. “Jesus,” he moaned, “you forget how good that Cadbury’s chocolate is.” 

“Mhmm,” Y/N moaned letting it melt on her tongue, “that’s better than an orgasm.”

“Oi, get all the way to fuck with that one,” Harry laughed, taking the two advent calendars, and returning them to the bedside table before rolling over to hover over the top of Y/N. “’Better than an orgasm’ my bloody arse, it is,” he tickled her sides as she shrieked in laughter trying to kick free of the duvet and blankets, she was bundled in and out of Harry’s grasp.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!!” Y/N squealed trying to grip Harry’s hands to get them away from her body. 

He relented as she gasped for air, “that’s what I thought, pretty girl, now gimme a kiss, I’m long overdue,” as Harry sank some of his bodyweight against her, holding himself up by his forearms as Y/N strained her neck up to meet his lips with her own. Their lips moving together in synchronicity, Harry sucked gently on her bottom lip before his tongue met hers briefly before they broke away with a short peck. “Mm tastes like dairy milk,” Harry laughed, swiping his thumb over her bottom lip removing the remnants of their kiss and a little chocolate. 

“I mean it is sometimes better than an orgasm,” Y/N said bravely before she leapt from their bed before Harry could catch her.

“That’s it, lovie,” Harry said chasing after her round their bedroom. They heard Vince start barking from downstairs once he overheard all the hilarity and as Y/N began to make haste for the bedroom door to go appease Vince, Harry caught her from behind, wrapping his arms around her middle. “I promised I’d make him scrambled eggs for breakfast, but the second we’re done, me n’you are coming straight back up here and I’ll show you how much better an orgasm can be, yeah?” Harry pressed as a kiss to her cheek as he slipped past her out their bedroom, calling out to Vince that he was coming and if he didn’t hush up the eggs were out of the question. Y/N stood trying to catch her breath, noticing that Harry had taken their advent calendars with him to sit on top of their mantlepiece for the next 24 days. 

***

Advent Calendar Masterlist

Full Masterlist

[honoura]

disclaimer: this spawned off a twitter thread i made a while back, which itself came from something i’d noticed time and again within the xiv community: the idea that photography isn’t possible there. i’ve seen this a few times, and ultimately what i felt to be the truer statement is that digital photography as we know it in our phones, no. that is not a very accessible thing. most eorzeans aren’t getting a garland ironworks tomephone.

but that doesn’t mean they aren’t taking pictures.

A Case for Eorzean Photography

In the case of our modern world, the art of capturing an image onto paper directly from life dates back to the 1820s. It was called heliography. A wikipedia article on it can be found here. Heliography came about because its inventor wished for an efficient way to reproduce lithographs, engravings, and relief prints, three different illustration styles that had existed by now for varying lengths of time, but all still in use and being the choice method for adding images to text. I’m going to give a short bit of information on each style, because they are also very likely quite prevalent.

Woodcut (Relief)

Woodcut is as its name implies -- you carve your image into a block of wood, coat the raised portions with ink, and then use it in the press. Accessible to learn, accessible to do, if you want rp flavor there’s likely illustrators in every city-state employing this for the newspapers or illustrated editions of books.

Intaglio (Engraving)

Intaglio is my favorite printmaking method for illustrations, and probably also my favorite for FF14 because it involves playing with chemicals! Let’s get the alchemist roleplayers we know something cool to do. Anyway, with intaglio you’re using acid to burn an image into a metal plate, and the deeper the etchings the darker the shadows. Great for values, great for depth, and have I mentioned you’re just being a little scientist and an artist at the same time?

Lithography

Lithography is the one you’ve seen the most, even if you aren’t 100% sure how it works. It became very popular in the late 19th and early 20th century -- if you’ve ever gawked at vintage illustrations by Mucha or Leyendecker, those are lithographs! Some of the big plates used for them are just big rocks! Miners could 100% mine up limestone slabs for this.

Anyway, back to photographs. After heliographs cracked the capture nut suddenly everyone was getting in on it. People were mixing all kinds of chemicals to capture the world as it was at a moment onto a plate of glass (or others! they liked silver too).

Physautotypes used lavender oil as its photosensitive agent. Tree resin was also popular. Both things botanists would routinely be able to harvest and crafters able to distill. I can only imagine how it smelled to make photographs with this, I hope it was nice!

About 20 years after the earliest heliograph came daguerrotypes. Made on silver plates with a copper substrate, daguerrotypes were pricy but popular -- and they had their own special camera made rather than using a camera obscura.

Daguerrotypes were also when spirit photography came into prominence.

Ambrotypes came on the heels of daguerrotypes as a cheaper alternative made with less costly materials, and was followed by their even cheaper brethren the tintypes. Bit by bit, photographs were becoming more accessible -- not always the equipment (or the supplies), but in terms of a person or group of people having a portrait made you were starting to see that become more common.

Ambrotype above, tintype below

Let it be said also that less costly materials does not mean lower quality image -- each method had its own charm. Tintypes were sturdier than ambrotypes, but both developed quicker than daguerrotypes. Ambrotypes could also have spot colors added to them!  

Albumen prints made it to paper, and until we went digital that’s where photographs stayed, on paper! And one of their key binding materials was made from eggs, beautifully common eggs.

So Where Does This Leave Eorzea?

So why did I go into this much detail, with visual examples and links to references that include their materials? Because all these materials exist already within FFXIV. Glass, plates, the types of metals used, the types of chemicals.

They’re part of crafting logs, and gathering leves, and dungeon drops. Alchemists can make these chemical components, goldsmith quests have you making lenses and other more delicate mechanisms, carpenters could easily build boxes for camera obscura (and cameras!).

Different styles of photography and different materials used for them reflect availability of the materials -- where does this character live, what are their cultural beliefs, do they travel much outside of their home region? How much money do they have?

What if using unaspected crystals creates a different effect on the plate? With the right kind of aetherial charge, don’t you think you could photograph ghosts in actuality rather than trickery? There’s a whole quest in 1.0 where an NPC sees the ghost of the city of Sil’dih -- a ghost city!

At any rate, I just think it’s neat to look at what materials exist in this game, and how things from this world may translate to that with the understanding it will not be 21st century. We have a lot of technology that’s existed longer than we sometimes recall or acknowledge -- and it’s good material! Use that stuff! Have fun with it!

[november-rayne]

Chapter Nineteen: Seeing

Summary: Frigga uses her sight to discover how the fates intervened to answer Astrid's prayer.

Word Count: 3300

Rating: Mature

*This story is for mature audiences only.* 18+

*Minors DNI*

Chapter Index

Frigga and Astrid were sitting together near a cluster of flowering dogwood trees. The pink and white petals blanketed the stones along the path to where the ladies were seated at a small wrought iron table. An assortment of nuts, cheese, and dates sat on an intricate golden tray. The warm breeze made the petals dance and flutter as the ladies sipped their tea. They had a wonderful conversation until the subject shifted to the wedding.

The Queen set her teacup on the table and asked, “You seem preoccupied, Astrid. Is something the matter?”

“Apologies, Your Majesty. The wedding approaches quickly. I am trying to come to terms with going home without my little girl.”

Frigga placed her hand over Astrid’s and gave it a few little pats. “I understand how difficult that must be.”

“I am happy for my daughter to be getting married and to a prince at that.” She smiled at the queen, “I will miss her terribly. We may not agree on much, but I could always count on seeing her every day. I know I should be grateful for all my years with her.” She sighed, “Why do they have to grow up so fast?”

“It is the cruelty of becoming a mother, I’m afraid. Although eventually, we will be rewarded with grandchildren. Won’t that be wonderful?”

Astrid smiled, “Sigyn has wanted to be a mother for as long as I can remember. She had quite the doll collection. Erik would bring her a new ‘baby’ every time he returned home from a trip, every birthday, anytime she got good marks in school, any opportunity he could.” Her smile fell.

“Then the dolls were eventually replaced with dresses, shoes, and jewelry. We spoiled her, but how could we not?” She shrugged her shoulders, “She is our miracle. My answered prayer.”

“And you believe Loki to be the one who answered your prayer?”

Astrid looked sheepishly at Frigga, “I do not have any other explanation. He remembered my unspoken prayer word for word.”

Frigga took Astrid’s hands in hers, “The golden apples from Idunn’s tree affect each of us differently. Loki can tap into someone’s mind, see their memories and hear their thoughts, but I’ve never seen him heal anyone. Perhaps he heard your prayer because you were holding him? He needs to be touching someone to read their thoughts.”

“Well, yes, I would hold him on my lap, stroke his hair, and hold his chubby little hands as he drifted off to sleep. And I would pray. Over and over, I would pray for another baby of my own. I went to the nursery almost every day that we were here.”

“There is no doubt that Loki heard your mind.” Frigga furrowed her brow and looked off into the distance, pondering. “I will need to do some scrying to see how exactly you were able to conceive.”

She looked at Frigga with wide eyes. “How old was he when you fed him the golden apple?”

“Odin was insistent that the boys got their apples as soon as they had teeth.”

“Oh, goodness. So, they were both babies at the time?”

“Yes, their ceremonies were each quite comical.  Thor shrieked after he finished his apple and was not permitted to take another. Loki had just learned to sit up on his own and was more interested in tossing the apple and rolling it around on the dais than eating it.”

“Goodness,” Astrid laughed. “Why so young?”

“As you know, the King is extremely selective. Only those with the strongest elements may receive the gift. He was so proud when the boys were born; he could not wait to bring them into the fold, to start their tutelage. And he wanted them to have the protection of Asgard’s magic as soon as possible.”

“Are you telling me that the King is a big softie?  It is hard to picture.”

“That is on purpose,” Frigga smiled. “He must rule with an iron fist, without exception. One whiff of vulnerability and our enemies would pounce. But Odin is a different man behind closed doors. He is gentle, sentimental, and empathetic. Do not let him know I told you that,” she chuckled.

Astrid grinned, “Of course not.”

“He was a good father when he was not being a king. He focused most of his efforts on Thor, obviously; he was the heir to the throne, strong as an ox, and the spitting image of Odin. But he was just as proud of Loki, in his own way.”

Frigga smiled, “We were both shocked when he was born with a head full of black curls and looking almost exactly like my late father. When he started showing a predilection for seiðr, Odin started referring to him as ‘your son.’ So, he had his boy, and I had mine.”

Frigga took a sip from her teacup and set it back down again. “Loki projects an heir of haughty arrogance, but he is a sweet boy under that cool demeanor. He would be the first to throw himself in front of someone he cares about. And I know he cares about Sigyn, not just superficially; he loves that girl.”

“And she him.” Astrid smiled, “She has had a crush on the prince for as long as I can remember. It was always, ‘Prince Loki is so handsome, Mama.’ and ‘Prince Loki can wield seiðr, Mama.’ She would moon over his portrait for hours if I would let her.

“She was such a naughty little thing when she was young. Just picture me trying to raise a proper little lady and her winking and blowing kisses to framed art on the wall!” She clutched her necklace, “Where she even learned such behavior, I could not tell you.”

Frigga held her stomach and laughed, “Oh, that is precious.”

One of Frigga’s ladies approached the table and curtsied, “Excuse me, Your Majesty. The Prince and the Lady Sigyn have just arrived at the garden gate.”

“Ah, very good. Please bring us a fresh pot of tea and two more cups.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” She curtsied and collected the teapot before she hurried away.

oOXOo

Loki and Sigyn came through the garden gate as one of the Queen’s ladies approached and curtsied. “The Queen and the Lady Anderson are having tea under the dogwood trees, Your Highness.”

Loki nodded, “Thank you.” When they were out of earshot of the maid, he leaned over and whispered in Sigyn’s ear, “I think I will take us there the long way.”

She tightened her grip on his arm, “You will get no complaint from me.”

Loki led her off the stone path to a smaller gravel walkway that wound through an ornate flower bed. “Mother designed this garden herself. She spends most of her free time out here.”

“I can see why. It is stunning.” They followed the meandering path until they came across a small pond. Sigyn stopped to admire some purple irises planted along the water’s edge. “It is very peaceful out here.”

She looked over to Loki and caught him staring at her face with a look that could only be described as adoring. “Oh, Loki.” she stroked his face with her free hand, “I love you so much. When you look at me like that…” she ran her fingertips lightly along his cheekbones, “I feel like my heart could explode right out of my chest.”

Loki touched her neck and stroked her jaw with his thumb. “You are the hidden treasure I never knew I was searching for.”

Tears pricked her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his middle and put her head on his shoulder. He rested his head against hers and stroked her hair.

“I am never going to let you go,” she said through her sniffles. They held each other, swaying in the warm sunlight for several minutes. Each of them not wanting to be the first to let go.

“Riiibbit.” A giant bullfrog croaked as he plopped onto a stone in the pond with a squelch, startling the couple.

“Excuse me. We are trying to have a moment here. Move along.” Loki dismissed the frog with a wave.

“Riiibbit.” The bullfrog responded, staring at Loki.

“Rude!” He glared back at the frog, his lips curling up at the corners. Sigyn giggled. “We will get no more privacy here. Let us go.”

She gave the bullfrog a little wave as Loki led her away.

oOXOo

Frigga heard the pair approach before she could see them. Their heavy footfalls and shouting taunts broke up the peace in the garden. Loki rounded a corner and ran down the path at full speed, Sigyn running a little behind him.

“I won!” he yelled triumphantly at her before stopping to bow to his mother, “Mother.”

“Not fair! I do not know my way around this garden! And I am wearing a dress!” She yelled back, slowing down as she rounded the corner and saw her mother's unmistakable look of displeasure. She quickly walked the last twenty yards to where Loki stood waiting for her.

“You cannot sour my victory with your logic, My Lady. I will still relish your defeat.” He was grinning from ear to ear. He placed his hand on her back as she approached the table.

She tried to catch her breath as she curtsied deeply to the Queen, “Your Majesty.”  She gave her mother a peck on the cheek, “Mama.”

Lady Anderson stood and curtsied to the prince, “Your Highness.”

“My Lady.” He helped push her seat back in before sitting Sigyn next to her.

Frigga raised her eyebrows, “Loki, why were you making this poor girl run through the garden?”

“Oh, I was not making her do anything, Mother.” Loki conjured a tall glass of cold water and passed it to Sigyn, “Here you go, sweetling.” She nodded a thank you as she accepted it. “My betrothed wrongly believes that she can outrun me. So, we agreed to a foot race.” He shrugged as he plucked a date from the tray and passed it to Sigyn.

“You did what?!” Lady Anderson moved to the edge of her seat. She leveled Sigyn with a glare. Sigyn dropped her eyes to her lap as she nibbled the date. “How many times must I remind you that you are a Lady, Sigyn.” Her mother said through clenched teeth. “Ladies do not challenge people to foot races! Especially men! Especially in the presence of royalty.”

“Sorry, Mama. We were having a bit of fun.”

Lady Anderson sighed, exasperated, “A bit of fun?” She shook her head in disbelief as she clutched her necklace.

“Honestly, My Lady, I love that Sigyn feels she can challenge me. I love her spirit and her tenacity. I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with some vapid woman who has trained her whole life to pander to me.” He rubbed Sigyn’s cheek with his knuckle as he smiled at her.

“Yes, of course, you are right, Your Highness,” Lady Anderson replied tightly.

“My case in point.” Loki laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on the arms of the chair as he leaned back.

“Loki, a little more decorum in front of our guest,” the Queen said.

“Apologies, My Lady. I did not mean any offense.” He straightened his posture and reached across the table for her hand.

“Sigyn is fortunate to be betrothed to someone so… accepting of her demeanor.” Lady Anderson placed her hand on Loki’s, and he quickly kissed the back of it. “She has always leaned a little on the boisterous side. I blame her father.”

“Please, I am the lucky one.” Loki passed Sigyn another date.

“Speaking of fortune and luck,” the queen interjected, “I need to clarify something you mentioned at lunch, Sigyn.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Sigyn covered her mouth as she chewed.

“You mentioned to me that you felt connected to Loki from an early age. Care to elaborate on that a little more for me, please?”

“Yes,” She cleared her throat, “As I told you the other day at lunch, I have felt drawn to the prince ever since I was tiny.” She smiled at Loki and continued, “One day, his portrait stopped me dead in my tracks. I felt a connection that I cannot explain. I knew, somehow, that I would one day be his wife. And the day we met,” tears pricked her eyes, she shook her head and fought to keep her composure, “the day we met in person…I do not have the words to describe the feeling… a piece of myself that had been missing was returned. I felt complete.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “I am sorry if that makes no sense. That is the best way that I have to describe it.”

Lady Anderson moved to comfort her daughter, but Loki was already en route to wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He kissed her temple as he dried her cheeks with his thumb. Sigyn looked at him and gave him a sweet smile. Loki took some cheese from the tray and offered it to her. She laughed through her tears, “Thank you, my love,” she whispered as they rested their foreheads together.

“And Loki? Can you tell me more about when you first met Sigyn?” The queen looked pensive.

Loki’s cheeks flushed slightly, “Aside from being completely bowled over by her beauty, grace, and warmth, I would say that my initial reaction was quite… possessive. I felt time come to a screeching halt. My vision blocked out everything but her. All the pain in my body relented briefly. And I knew she was mine and that I would be hers. I tried desperately to deny it. But I knew. Somehow. She was mine. She is mine. She…is…mine.”

Loki looked away from Sigyn to find the other two women staring at him intently. “What? Is that not how everyone falls in love?”

“No.” the Queen said as she went deep in thought. After a moment, she asked, “Sigyn, Astrid, may I have a strand of your hair? Loki, you as well. Root attached, please.” She held out her hand, and Loki, Sigyn, and Lady Anderson each plucked a stand from their scalps and placed it in the queen’s open palm.

Frigga summoned her soapstone smudge bowl to the table and twisted the hairs together. She placed them in the bowl. A heatless yellow flame rose from the bowl as Frigga held her hands over it. She stared into the flame; her eyes took on a yellow glow.

“I see,” she said faintly.

Sigyn reached over and clutched Loki’s arm with both hands. Lady Anderson clutched her necklace with one hand and held her stomach with the other.

Loki scooted to the edge of his seat, “What do you see, Mother?”

“I see the Lady in the nursery. I feel her pain.” Frigga grimaced and clutched her abdomen, not taking her eyes from the flame; she said, “I see the boy toddling over to her with a book.” She smiled briefly before her face shifted. Her eyes widened, “I see the Nornir… they argue… the tapestry… the Lady’s fate… Atropos relents, Lachesis instructs, Clotho weaves… a new pattern emerges… the boy… the girl…”

The flame in her bowl died down. Frigga closed her eyes, “I have been shut out from seeing any further than today.” She took a few deep breaths to center herself. She opened her eyes and took a sip of her tea.

“The Norns intervened on your behalf, Astrid. They heard your prayer, felt your longing, and changed your fate.”

“Oh...” Lady Anderson clutched her heart with both hands, “Oh my stars…”

“They used a small fiber of Loki’s thread to patch what was missing in yours. A small piece of his divine element, his mischief. The piece was so small that it only healed you long enough to conceive Sigyn and carry her to term. It created an irrevocable bond between the two of them as well.”

Frigga looked to Loki, “You see it in her eyes too, do you not?”

“It was one of the first things I noticed about her. It took my breath away.” Loki looked at Sigyn and the unmistakable glint in her eyes. “I had no idea it was part of my own.”

“Excuse me, but I do not understand. How does one see mischief?” Lady Anderson took Sigyn’s chin and looked at her daughter’s face. “All I see are her pretty green eyes.”

“Only the Gods can see the divine elements, My Lady. I am sorry. It is a sight to behold,” Frigga stated.

“I suppose I owe your father an apology, Sigyn. All these years, I believed him to blame for your naughtiness.”

Frigga laughed, “Sigyn is responsible for her own behavior, My Lady. I assure you that her free will has not been tampered with.”

Sigyn blushed and tucked her chin to her shoulder, turning her face away from her mother’s disapproval. “I see.” The Lady picked up her teacup and took a sip.

Loki took Sigyn’s hand and kissed it, “Would you like another snack, my sweet? I could conjure you something else if you like?” he asked her as he noticed that she had finished off the dates.

Sigyn’s eyes lit up and then fell as her mother cleared her throat. “Thank you, Your Highness. But I… should pass.  I have my final fitting for my wedding gown tomorrow. I want it to look perfect for you.”

Loki scoffed, “I would not care if you walked down the aisle in a burlap sack. Your happiness is my only concern.” He conjured a small pumpkin muffin and placed it in her hands with a kiss on the forehead.

Heat came to his cheeks as he remembered her nakedness from earlier. The curve of her hips, the fullness of her breasts, the cute little bump of her empty womb that poked out slightly between her hip bones. She was athletic and strong while still having the feminine softness that awoke something feral in him. His eyes dropped from her face to the curve of her breasts at the top of her dress.

“Loki?” Frigga said again as she kicked his boot under the table.

“What? Yes, Mother? Did you say something?” Loki tore his gaze from Sigyn to look at the Queen. He heard Sigyn giggle as she tore off a piece of her muffin.

“I asked if you had decided on the apartment.”

“Oh, yes…” Loki cleared his throat, “Yes, we are taking the corner unit directly south of yours, Mother. We are going to be neighbors.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Frigga beamed. “I am so pleased for the two of you.”

“Fredrik said he would have our furniture delivered and the changes we want to be completed by the wedding day. Sigyn and her maids can move her clothes to the closet immediately. He even gave her her own set of keys to do so.”

Sigyn reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a gold keyring. She jingled them above her head. “I am so excited.” She smiled at her mother, “Would you like to help me organize my things in my new rooms, Mama?”

“I would like that, yes,” she sobbed.

The Queen stood, “That session has drained me, I’m afraid. I need to go lie down before dinner.” Frigga signaled to her ladies.

Everyone bowed and curtsied after she stood. “Are you all right, Mother? Would you like me to escort you back to your chambers?”

“No, I am fine. I just need a little rest.” She waved as she started down the path. “I will see everyone at dinner.”

Loki escorted the ladies back to their chambers, reluctantly bid Sigyn farewell, and then made his way to the training grounds.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist. Thank you!

XOXO - Rayne 💚

Tag List: @gigglingtiggerv2 @chantsdemarins @superficialdomina @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @smolvenger @simone818283 @gruftiela @huntress-artemiss

[sunofpandora]

Hi I was wondering if you are doing requests?

Hey anon!

Yes, I am currently taking requests. And I’m so happy I got this bc I’ve been DYING to write.

I don’t have a request rules or masterlist page yet so I hope you don’t mind if I just lay down some quick rules rq:

Fandoms I will write for:

Currently only atwow. I will add more later though

Characters I will write for (in order of how confident I am in writing them):

Neteyam 🏹

Lo’ak 🌀

Jake Sully ೃ⁀➷

Ao’nung 🌊

Neytiri 💙

Tsireya🪼

Kiri🍃

Spider 🕷️

Norm Spellman 🧬

Favorite tropes: (I’m not urging anyone to suggest these. I just love writing them)

FORBIDDEN ROMANCE! ( will die on this hill)

Friends to lovers

Enemies to lovers

“Oh fuck. Oh no I love them” type shii

More to come soon.

General rules:

Nsfw is aloud but nothing crazy. (By that I’m not calling any of anyone’s kinks “crazy” what I mean like super, super intense bdsm, knife play, gun play, blood kinks, incest, stepcest, (let’s just say anything ending in ‘cest’ is a no.) and everything MUST be consensual.)

I’m a bit hesitant about writing human x na’vi nsfw. I will 100% write human reader x na’vi fluff. It’s just I have a hard time visually imagining a human and a na’vi having sex without an avatar body. I am not against the idea in any way, but the general concept does throw me off a bit (I always imagine some type of detrimental injury occurring bc we are so smol compared to na’vi)

I will write it but In general I’m not the biggest fan of writing for a human reader.

I will however, absolutely write for avatar reader x na’vi character of any sort! Or even a half-human half na’vi reader or some kind of biracial na’vi? (I’ve seen that concept a few times in the fandom an it’s honestly so much fun)

I do allow things like comfort for self harm, abuse, traumatic experiences, racism, etc. but these things will never be romanticized.

Y/n won’t have a name. Sorry, I just don’t see the point in x reader if the reader has a name. I will always refer to them as Y/n.

I write for a female reader for the most part but please, if you want any other pronouns please let me know in your request.

Y/n will always be of any size! That includes plus size or on the skinnier size. If you would like me to specify that in your request let me know.

I do age up my characters. If you don’t like it you can head out.

I write for na’vi, avatar, or human y/n currently.

And that’s about it!

Go nuts 💙

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Do you ever think about doing a totally crack AU? Like Madrigals in SAW or My Little Pony or Supernatural? Those would be fun, and nuts! I got a thing with Supernatural crossovers.

Definitely! Well, depends what we count as a crack AU. As for these suggestions though…

For SAW… I refuse to put the kids through that because of their ages alone. This also doesn’t strike me as crack? It wouldn’t be anything remotely similar to crack, it would be horrific. If you like the series, great, but it’s really not my cup of tea and I don’t have much desire to make an AU for it - considering I wouldn’t put half the characters in that.

(There is also already a few SAW fics floating around the Encanto AO3 - I’ve never been interested to read any myself but that might be something to check out).

I have considered a MLP AU many a time. I’ve always seen designs floating around and never been satisfied with them, so I did at one point make my own designs for the Madrigals. Those files are long since deleted, so I couldn’t share them. But this is a rather popular AU and I’m not sure if (plot-wise) I’d bring anything new to the table or if anyone would be interested.

I do have an Infection AU (based off the MLP Infection AUs), though it isn’t crack, it might be of interest to you?

And last but not least - I’m only familiar with supernatural in terms of it being a media trope. I didn’t realise it was an actual series until I looked it up for this ask. So… I’m probably the wrong person to make this AU for a show I’ve never even heard of.

[annetictac]

Like I used to watch you sleep Chapter 3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3

It had been three years almost four since they had broken up, two years since he had last been in the same room as her – accidentally of course – and one hour since he admitted he had been avoiding her since that morning at his trailer.

“It’s not as if I check if she’s going to be at every race-”, he excused himself taking a big gulp, training be damned. “Just big events, it’s not like I was invited to the music events when we were dating, they probably didn’t know anything about me”.

“Yeah now you are showering with MTV invitations,” Daniel joked shaking his head. It was true that their socials hardly ever combined being from two different fields. The only time they had, he had kept himself at a distance, one of the firsts events he had been invited with Kelly. And though he had seen her get up stage to receive an award he had hardly been near her. “I mean I imagined you were somehow avoiding her at the beginning – don’t we all?- , but I thought you had heard the songs and maybe they touched a bit too close home”.

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve heard some, the more popular ones, but well…” he admitted nodding, rubbing his face frustrated. “There’s this little moment when we go to the states … you know they always like to invite as many stars possible or bring someone for an event or two that I think she might come, but … it hasn’t been the case”. He understands now the mixture of dread, relief and disappointment he would usually feel when they gave him the program – the only one he would ask with time in advance for the whole year. 

“Well, what do you expect?” Daniel counters. “I doubt she would just drop to see how you are, if she doesn’t know she’s welcome. I could ask Geri…” Max’s eyes double in size.

“Are you fucking nuts?” he snaps. “And I what, introduce her to Kelly?”

“I’m not saying that, idiot,” the aussie snaps back quickly. “Talking about Ms Piquet… what’s the deal between you?” Max shrugs.

“We are ok, I guess,” Max mumbles, eyes focused on his drink.  

“Really?” Dani scoffs. “Heidi said she didn’t think so”. Max looks up and they battle for some minutes before he sighs in defeat.

“She wants a kid, I’m trying to ..” Max huffs and rubs his face. “Avoid the conversation? The subject all together?”

“Mate,” Dani begins but Max glares and his stops.

“I know,” Max concedes. “I have to talk to her”.  They drank in silence for some minutes, not sure how to continue.

“It’s been what four years?” Max looks up confused. “Since you broke up with her,” he begins, scratching his moustache. “Maybe the whole pending conversation one front is making you see others that might not have been as closed as you liked? As many psychologists I follow on Instagram, perhaps some self – sabotage?”

“Maybe,” Max replied shrugging, another old fashion gulp. He winced at the bitter taste. “I just…” He begins but doesn’t find the words. “Sometimes I think about what could have been if I hadn’t…”

The doorbell rings repeatedly, probably Lando arriving two hours after being summoned.

“Lando doesn’t know right?” Daniel checks as he walked to his front door. Max shakes his head and Daniel makes signs of zipping his lips.

“Hello bros!” Lando greets giving a high five to Daniel who receives it with half of his enthusiasm.

“We were about to fall asleep,” Max replied dryly.

“That’s because you’re old old men, it’s like ten for crying out loud!” Lando cheekily replies. “Old fashion?” he asks once he approaches the improvised bar. “See? Old old men!” he announces victorious. “Where’s the vodka?” Daniel sighs, avoiding quoting ‘too old for this shit’. He pulls out a bottle he gained from Mazepin a few years back that one smell could knock you down.

“Comes with warning,” he explains seriously, taking out small crystal shot glasses.

“Well, what are we celebrating?” Lando questions as he serves generous portions for the three small glasses, taking a curious sniff before buffing. “Fuck, this is strong!” Daniel nods in remembrance.

“Celebrating?” He returns.

“Yeah! Did Max get renovated for 20 years, even if they have to chain him to the car?” The youngster adds gathering courage for the shot. He takes it quickly, wincing and airing his tongue. “Damn!” he manages to screech. Daniel hoots, Max joins him, less thrilled, shaking his head and playing with the brim of the small shot.

“Nop,” Max offers. “We are just being old men reminiscing the good old days,” he continues as he considers taking the shot, but finally pushing it away. It’ll be difficult to explain to Kelly why he arrives drunk home when he has a debrief early in the morning. It will be worse to explain to Christian.  

“Gosh, reminiscing, what an old thing to say,” Lando says jokingly. “Anyways what could you be reminiscing about? World champion for the second time and the season is not over,” He raises one finger as he continues to number “…great car – if the rumours are true, and you can tell me I’d only tell everyone at McLaren – Kelly’s smoking…. Her personality evidently is very importante and she’s just not a body- hello?, should I continue?” he rambles not paying attention to Max’s glare or Daniel trying to hide his snickering.

Silence takes place as Lando steals Max’s shot, cursing in low breath at his pour choices, while Daniel joins with his shot.

“Dudes,” Lando begins in his very best American accent. “If distraction is what’s needed, and vodka is rejected,” shot glass nodded in Max’s direction. “I shall have to follow one of the bests distractors known to modern society… gossip!” He climbs one of the stools, refreshing everyone’s drink quickly.

“Paddock gossip?” Daniel wonders wriggling his eyebrows.

“Nah, that shit is dead now,” Lando rejects quickly, stabilizing over the stool. “I should probably have something to eat with this… I’m starting to get dizzy,” he stumbles out of his chair grabbing the first bag of chips he finds.  He takes a handful and tries to eat them all in a bite. It takes more minutes of awkward silence while Max and Daniel wait for him to resume what he knows. He swallows exaggeratedly taking a small sip of the glass closest to him – Max’s watered down old fashion-. “So, as I was saying, did you watch Anna Pearsons’ documentary last night?”

Before he said this, Daniel had mimicked the young driver and had his mouth full of chips, that he half spit when Max’s ex’s name came to the table.

“Hear me out! Hear me out!” Lando continued quickly misunderstanding Daniel’s reaction. He took out his phone and began browsing his phone quickly “I didn’t watch it only because she’s hot! Which of course she is, I would say yes even if she only wanted me to follow her around to give her bottles of water. She’s one of the biggest song writers active right now, has broken many records and she’s in all an important character of our generation!” Max gives him a look that he once again misunderstands. “OK ok, but I think she will be! And look look!” Remote in hand he turned on the tv now in synch with his phone to immediately put a talk show neither Daniel nor Max recognized.

Max had not seen the rest of the documentary the day before, Penelope had woken from her nap and he had been playing with her for some of the afternoon while Kelly left with some friends for dinner leaving them for an early night. She had joked with him that he had to wait for her for them to finish it together. He had nodded with no intention of following through. He had no intention of finishing it, not pleased with the pitch in his stomach that had taken residence in his chest since he had first seen Anna on TV. It had taken him years to stop feeling the knot after they had broken up, he felt incredibly weak and stupid for feeling like this over an exposee of his ex-girlfriend. What would his father think.

“And also, apparently she’s single!” Lando added pressing play, breaking Max’s thoughts. “Was it this one?” Lando muttered to himself.  

“I mean she wrote to him what’s probably the most romantic album of our generation! Am I supposed to believe that love exists after this?” A young commentator said in disbelief. There are about six people seating in a room, most of them younger than Lando, only a women in her forties is at the middle acting like some sort of moderator.

“How could he do this to her?” Another asks.

“Men are assholes!”

“Wait! Wait,” an older female reporter interrupts the talk. “No one has said who left who, we only know that Roberto waited ‘til the end of the first part to be dropped before saying anything, which yes is a little sketchy” she tried to reason. “We don’t have anything that says what happened between them, Ms. Pearson’s team has not given any statement. There will be no crucifiction of character while I’m on the show”.

An image of Anna wrapped around a tall, wide brunet came up. “--- in fact, this is the only official confirmation we ever had they were even together”. A series of no more than ten photos of her and tall dark and handsome apparently actor showed consecutively through the back of the show. It ends with a capture of an Instagram post that reads something along the lines they had broken  up and the asked for the press to leave them alone. Dani snorted besides him.

“It is so douchy! They have never talked to the press about them and now he gives a f** (a bleep interrups) communicate without sharing it with her first?”

“We still don’t know if they talked it previously!”

“I mean she wrote songs that we call classics!” The first of the commentators returns to attack.

“Even if they were not for him, even if as she says she inspires from many situations not only one love, dude we are talking about the girl who sang the Can’t help falling in love rendition not breaking eye contact with him,” Another interrupts.

“He was the actor hired for the rendition, of course she had to stare at him!” Another counteracts.

“Rumours say they had been together as far as 2019,” A snort scaped Max, because that little he knew wasn’t true. “So even Last Kiss could be his!”

“And she was the one who made them hire him!”  The older reporter’s face revealed to feel the chat was going out of control, keeping herself out of the latest exchange of opinions when Lando stops it.

“This one isn’t helpful,” He mutters as he checks another video. “I saw a good one yesterday that spilled all the dish!”

“I loved this album because I gave myself the licence to write from different perspectives, to return to my beginnings,” Anna’s voice comments as a photo of a girl – her – no older than 10 was in a big desk writing away. “I used to write stories before I wrote songs and now, I feel this album is honouring that”. She raises from the chair and the camara gives a bigger plane of where she is. A quick assistant hands her a guitar once again. “This is an old one, but a good one…” She begins strumming.  

“We were in the backseat,

Drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar…”

 “This one is good,” Lance muttered in drunken appreciation. She kept playing in the back, camara closing the frame around her face and the top of the guitar.

“I hope I never loose you,

I hope it never ends,”

“Lando?” Dani interrupts, half amused looking at the younger pilot’s infatuated face and noticing Max was paying attention too closely at his ex as if she had been in his living room instead of his TV. Lando hummed confirming he was listening. “What’s the dish?”

“Oh she’s probabily going to be main artists in one of the F1 european stops,” Lando rambled breaking the spell of the situation.

“What?”  Max splutters.

“Yeah probably second half of next season,” He continues. “Apparently they are backing her to some old contract they had with the company that represents her”.

“Oh!” Daniel huffed. “I doubt after the last time she would be so willing to come back”.

“You are old! She came like four years ago, apparently it was a two-year contract that she summoned some clause to break it, they have been delaying and she only has ‘til next year before penalties”.  

“Maybe she prefers the penalties?” Daniel snickered not missing Max’s face at the news. Lando however drunk he was, his eyes narrowed information being processed.

“What do you mean?”

Max openly glares at Daniel.

“What happened?” Lando continued skipping between both older drivers to see if something scaped. Then he got lucky, Max was avoiding staring at him and Daniel was having a field day. “It’s not like you two …. Dated right?” Then Dani couldn’t hold it anymore and burst out laughing. Max’s face was all Lando needed for confirmation. “Nooooo!” He cried almost falling from the stool. “How the fuck did no one know?” Lando’s eyes seemed ready to pop outside. “Shakira has barely showed twice and we all knew she and Lewis are a thing”.  

“It’s not like no one knows, it was winter break, we ar- were very discreet and … Christian knows, Dani knew,” Max shrugged, knot tight. “It didn’t last long”.

“You fucking bastard!” Lando cried slapping Max on the back not sure if congratulating him or in envy, taking a quick shot. “Dani dude, you can’t have shit like this at home!” He turned to Dani sniffing the half empty bottle with fake disgust.

CHAPTER 4

[brzatto]

Okay the anon mentioning that thing about Mikey leaving Carmy the beef and in a way leaving Richie to Carmy IS FANTASTIC

This fucker really said these two idiots will only survive if I force them together.

Also I feel like Richie is dying to take care of someone in a way? Like, he was really good with Tiff and he wants to be a good dad so bad. And then his dead best friend said heard and just shoves this chaotic, broken, mess of a little brother into his arms with no direction or further guidance. And he grew up with this kid right? He saw all the awkward phases and knows him better than most of his family even though it was probably more of an annoyance than genuinely wanting to know.

So he, on a super base level, probably knows Carmy enough to be surprisingly good at keep him alive and healthy?

Mikey gave Richie the human equivalent of a depressed house plant and he's actually doing a decent job at keeping Carmy it alive.

Also

Also

Along this same train of thought, what would Nat and Donna do once they realize Richie and Carmy may be a little closer than they realized? I think Nat would give a fierce shovel talk to Richie and then hug him for a really long time. What about Donna? She's already fucking nuts. I kinda want to explore the idea of her snarling something about Carmy always trying to be Mikey but I also like the idea of her thinking they can support each other better than she ever did.

And I feel like it's just glazed over but the trauma of being in that fucking house? Like Richie's dad wasn't around right? I would argue that's almost better than whatever the fuck Donna was doing.

There's so much to explore there. Add in the stuff while Carmy was away with the fuck face chef and oh Lord this boy needs help.

Do I think Carmy is in a place like Mikey was? No, but not taking care of yourself is a form of self harm and that boy does not even know how to spell self care.

I feel like Richie would better understand and be very aware of those things. They're always yelling at each other but Carmy usually has like a meltdown of some type after. Maybe Carmy hates when someone's close behind him in the kitchen because it makes him think of fuck face chef. Richie clocking in on that and going out of his way to discreetly move people around Carmy quick or to place himself between Carmy and someone else if they have to be behind him. Because if Carmy would let anyone see all the little, broken, scared parts of him it would be Richie.

And possessive, protective Richie who picks up on all these little flinches, self deprecating remarks, the lack of self care, or general depression and putting all the pieces into a picture that he does not like. I think he'd pick it all up and make sure anything that may trigger Carmy is taken care of, within reason, and subtly do things to help or make things easier, all while Carmy is oblivious but also realizing he isn't as stressed as he usually is. And Richie seems very pleased with himself lately.

**I rambled again, sorry. I just love actually having someone to talk to about this pairing ♥️

you’re correct! something that really irked me before s2 came out was the mass richie misinterpretation where everyone thought he was fundamentally a bad person with a few good moments/interactions as opposed to vice versa. the way richie treats carmy is a testament to their closeness but also probably to how estranged they became since carmy left home, when we’re introduced to richie in the pilot he’s visibly very warm and friendly with everyone else in the kitchen (except for fak and syd who are outsiders that carmy chooses to bring in) and is seen being openly affectionate, kissing tina hugging marcus etc etc. richie takes good care of those he cares about and i’m so glad they gave us a glimpse into his dynamic with tiff while she was pregnant because richie was soooooo (biting my fist) i’ve never doubted for a second that he genuinely loved her and i’m glad they showed us them being happy and sweet rather than the deteriorated version of their relationship that probably came after eva was born/mikey’s addiction got worse.

i feel like growing up carmy was relatively sheltered in a way? probably naturally shy and quiet and introverted even when he was younger and in spite of all the chaos in his family i really feel like he was spoiled lol or at least comparatively. especially with the comment richie made to sydney about always being nagged about being careful with carmy i can see nat and mikey both being really protective of him. in opposition richie was definitely the one who’d tease and antagonize him the most but he still clearly had that sense of responsibility drilled into him back then because we can see how instinctual his protectiveness is with carmy even now. i’m still trying to decide what his relationship and dynamic with donna was like when he was younger because in fishes we see him successfully placating her when nat couldn’t, i can’t tell if she’s always favored carmy just for being the youngest or if mikey and nat had to shield him from the brunt of her dysfunctionality growing up or maybe even if she was more stable when he was younger and then her mental health deteriorated/behavior became increasingly more erratic over time?

richie’s a person who naturally receives gratification from doing things for others and feeling useful/needed and that probably manifests itself in a much more competitive/spiteful way with carmy because his feelings towards him are just Like That and carmy is also bad at thanking (not other people just richie specifically) him so it’s not quite as transactional as his dynamic with, for example, tiff where he does things for her and is directly rewarded with affection/praise/seeing her happy. i think at first richie just likes the idea of carmy, who he always knew as just some snot nosed loser and is now a well established name in a competitive and high end industry, still being incompetent in some facets and having to depend on richie for something (even if carmy would NEVER ask for his help first or even admit his dependency), likes the idea of having it to hang over his head etc etc (or at least this is how he justifies it to himself) and then with time it gradually morphs back into a Normal relationship where they’re willing to accept that richie takes care of carmy because he cares about him and carmy accepts it because he also cares about him but because they’re them and they’re difficult we have to go the long way around. this is the plot of bcm essentially

lol for sugar and donna’s reactions i think you summed up my own feelings pretty well. i do have a wip fic that sort of includes how that would go with sugar, but in it they actually don’t tell her about “being together” at all (because they do NOT think of themselves as “being together”) and she finds out herself after carmy has been unofficially living with richie for like the past however many months and is understandably pissed. it’s supposed to be a more lighthearted fic so there’s no seriousness to it but i think having known for richie for so long she’s already intimately familiar with all his loser scumbag asshole tendencies as well as carmy’s bullheadedness and notoriously bad decision making but she also knows richie’s good at heart and carmy needs someone like him in his life. especially in light of richie’s apology to her in s2 and effectively amending their relationship (which meant SO much to me) genuinely i can only see her being mad over them not telling her about it rather than anything else. also i love the implication that mikey and richie were also romantically involved before at some point too and donna weaponizing that… when i choose to incorporate past richie/mikey in my carmrich plots the notion that richie is just another one of mikey’s hand me downs or that carmy is simply mikey’s fill in for richie is always one of carmy’s biggest insecurities and i can’t quite decide if donna would be cruel enough to weaponize that against carmy specifically but the thought has delectable angst potential. your mind

i think about richie’s family life a lot like goodness what was going ON in the jerimovich household that donna berzatto could’ve possibly been the better alternative… in reality i think richie’s mother actually just wasn’t present at all, like i think she probably either died or left when he was a child but since sydney’s mother also passed away when she was young and i doubt they’d repeat that plotline for richie i’m guessing it’s the latter. his father also probably wasn’t around very much because of service, but when he was he was probably a dick because he was a cishet (vine boom) white man (vine boom) in the military (VINE BOOM)

and actually it’s funny that you say that because to me i think carmy would definitely have his own vices, like obviously we see his smoking habit but a personal hc of mine i’ve always had for him even before s2 came out is that he has a bad relationship with alcohol—not to the point of addiction or anything like that but i think he probably abused it a little to cope with mikey shutting him out and stopped once it posed the risk of interfering with his work. if you happen to remember in ch2 of bcm there’s a line where carmy mentions richie knowing carmy doesn’t drink—there’s a reason why and that’ll get expanded on in future chapters! but yeah carmy’s form of self harm definitely manifests itself as self neglect. i’ve seen a lot of people write him with an ed but i don’t necessarily think he has one or that his relationship with food is tainted per se i think his eating habits just reflect his own self negligence. carmy definitely is on his way to developing gastritis if he doesn’t have it already

and this is such a sweet scenario for them i love this >_< anything with richie being attentive, considerate, thoughtful, gentle, tender etc etc i am seated immediately… like sometimes i read my own writing and feel like i’m projecting because i want him so unspeakably badly. always nice to see you in my inbox thank you for this anon 🤍

[rockyteriyaki]

fic writer interview

tagged by the lovely @ctimenefic to do this little questionnaire!! i’ll be including some unposted fics in this because y’all…i only have three fics on ao3 😭🫠 i'll tag @adimouze and @newbromantics to grace us with your interviews as well, if you feel so inclined :^)

this might raise more questions than it answers ultimately, but here we go!

What’s your total word count?

on ao3, 18k! so over half of it is Slacken, Tense lolll

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Razor Sharp White Teeth is my top by a good margin, and then Slacken, Tense, and then a little bandom fic i wrote on anon over the pandemic. i really only got into posting fic because of the talented folks in the f1rpf tag, so even though i have a lot of stuff written for other fandoms, none of it is on the internet

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

yes i do! i think it’s such a great way to spread positivity and i love when people respond to MY comments, so i always try to at least say thank you whenever I can :)

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

both RSWT and Slacken, Tense have sort of ambiguous endings that i guess could be angsty?? moreso RSWT, i think i could see max and daniel’s relationship being sort of strained after the events of that fic. i also have a little snippet written from ausgp that involves max and scotty getting into a literal, physical fight, which (despite it being very silly in the actual fic) is still way more intense than i usually go so i’d consider that angst, kinda!

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

again, not a lot of endings to draw from, but i think the end of this galex tumblr fic was quite sweet :)

Do you write crossovers?

i haven’t yet, and i’m not sure if i would for f1 (unless someone infects me with the motogp virus perhaps?) but if i ever get back into bandom, definitely. crossovers are just about all they do over there.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

if i have, i’ve never seen it 🫣

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i do! both of my f1 fics are rated e and are M/M, although i’ve written F/M/M (roy/jamie/keeley from ted lasso) and F/M (kaz/inej from six of crows, and roman/gerri from succession) before as well. but overwhelmingly it’s slash i suppose

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge! although honestly, unless it was word for word, i don’t think i would ever accuse someone of stealing a concept 😭 maybe i’m too non-confrontational but i genuinely think i would convince myself out of the idea before i would ever say or do anything about it

Have you ever had a fic translated?

someone offered to translate RSWT but they deleted their comment and i couldn’t track them down :’) anon if you see this please feel free, but i was honored that they even wanted to!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

not properly, but my irl bestie redscarez has let me do some heavy cheerleading on their fics So Real and Favorite Son which are both EXCELLENT and i loved being in the Gdocs for both of them.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

gosh that is HARD. maxiel and galex honestly probably make the all-time leaderboard, recency bias nonwithstanding, but there are a few others that stick out for sure. pete/patrick, in fall out boy rpf. draco/harry was sort of my intro to fandom/subject of my OG exploits on ff.net, so i feel a bit indebted to them as a pairing (not a point of pride, considering you-know-who went off her nut, but oh well). kirk/spock. weirdly, johnny/daniel from the original karate kid have my heart. there are a lot, i think i just love fandom hahahaha

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

so many. so, so many. in particular though i have this abo au where max is a stubborn alpha who doesn’t take suppressants, and daniel is a specialist brought in to regulate his hormones when he’s NOT in rut so that he won’t be as thrown off when he is. it’s basically medically necessary JOI, and in my head it’s so long i get intimidated just looking at the start of it 🫠

What are your writing strengths?

i’d like to think it would be word choice! i have some metaphors (“like a drugged dolphin” from RSWT, for example) that still pop up in my head every once in awhile. in general i just like to throw fun words and phrases at the wall when i’m writing :) i also do enjoy editing and all those boring bits which i’m grateful for hahaha

What are your writing weaknesses?

i’m sooo slowwww! i worked on Slacken, Tense for MONTHS and i still didn’t finish it until the night before the third round deadline. i just have zero writing stamina 🤧

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i am fully fluent in spanish, so i'm definitely tempted (mostly when i’m writing carlos) to add little phrases and whatnot, but i’m always worried it’ll come across as forced or hard to understand 😞 i never want it to be jarring or tokenizing in that way, so i usually refrain, but as kitty said i do think there’s a huge intimacy aspect that can be achieved with language-switching and i admire when people can pull that off smoothly.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

also harry potter 🫣🥂

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

i chatficced a NORTRELL fic a few days ago which sort of came out of nowhere?? but there are some absolute scholars in that tag, and since lando and i don’t always get along IRL i’ve actually been really liking it as a vehicle for characterizing him in the super-duper specific way that i have in my head. in my head it’s more of a testing ground but who knows, maybe i’ll sit down one day and actually write something out!

What's your favourite fic you've written?

i suppose it would be Razor Sharp White Teeth! i was just so blown away by the love on it and (not to be corny) it made me so appreciative of how lovely the f1rpf space is :’) engagement isn’t everything, but as someone who mostly writes for nobody’s eyes but my own, it was extremely motivating to see the kind reception and i still go back and read some of the comments on it :')))

[foreverisntenough]

If Trent goes to Real Madrid I fear he’ll fade into the shadows, lets face it he is not as big a star as any of the players on their current roster and to me doesn't seem like he’ll get much playing time. But that's just my opinion.

Also, the rhetoric that he's hanging onto Jude’s fame is starting to be pushed. Joining RM would amplify it.

I get this opinion. What’s interesting about Trent though has always been England’s media obsession with him. I don’t know enough about La Liga or Spanish fans/ media but as “local lad” as Trent is… he also is massive. He genuinely is one of the best in the world statistically and has been. You can’t take that away.

You’re right he’s not Vini, Mbappe, or Jude. But with that in mind… he’s very well known. And then in addition, just a Madrid brings a lot of attention. Good or bad, more people will know him. I wonder how many people don’t know much about a player until they get there. How much their following changes just because of the club. I think of players like Ferland Mendy, no shade, I think he’s great but Trent has massively more media attention. If I were to base it off something as trivial as instagram, Trent goes to Madrid now with 12 million followers… it’s only going up. I think it’s insane he has as much media on him as he does considering his play time for England and that he plays for Liverpool and is scouse. Yes, lfc is one of the biggest clubs in the world but has such a strained relationship with the media. I’m not sure he’ll ever fade. Every time he returns to England it will be an onslaught of attention.

I find the hanging to Jude’s fame kind of nuts personally. Like… I get it, and I’ve seen it a few times on het but it makes no sense to me. I genuinely believe they’re friends. Trent to Madrid is largely in part due to Klopp and FSG’s inability to retain a player not the uptick in time spent with another player.

Honestly, this is my opinion but this entire transfer saga has been so insane because Trent drives the media mental. His name has become clickbait and he always has been the scapegoat so 🤷‍♀️ We shall see. Sorry for the long response xx