#Jonathan is so sweet and I would give him the world

[korn-dogz]

would u b willing to do a jd x reader (gender neutral if thats ok!!) thats just fluff stuff? also maybe this is a lil specific and cheesy but could u include him calling them the nickname pumpkin

Jonathan would definitely call you that and I need to write more for Jonathan he’s such a sweetheart <3

Summary: you’re helping Jonathan get rid of his hangover

WARNING: mentions of alcohol, vomiting, fluff, Jonathan calling the reader “pumpkin” and other nicknames

Also I will do gender neutral reader for anyone :)

Jonathan is currently drunk as hell, he couldn’t drive so you had to walk him to your house, your house wasn’t very far away from the bar he went to which was good. Jonathan had his arm on top of your shoulders and one arm was holding Jonathan’s arm that he put on you and the other arm was holding Jonathan’s waist so he doesn’t fall

When he was drunk Jonathan had very knobby knees, so he was swaying side to side as you tried to contain him “augghh… Y/N….how fuckin’ far is your house" you two haven’t even walked for a minute, you looked over at Jonathan “it’s literally right there” you pointed to your house which wasn’t far, he looked over to where you pointed “holy shit, it’s so fuckin far” you sighed and had to ignore Jonathans protests about how far your house was. Finally, you two made it to the house, you struggled to get your keys out your pocket as now Jonathan was leaning on you with his full body weight, you got your keys out and unlocked the door; you pushed it open and Jonathan and you come stumbling in. You try your best to walk you and Jonathan up the stairs, he wasn’t heavy but he was really depending on you to get him up the stairs, you somehow got the two of you up the stairs and now you had to go for your bedroom, Jonathan was making this hard because he wouldn’t stop swaying from side to side “Y/N…?” Jonathan stops and so do you “Y-Yeah?” You huffed though your words, Jonathan didn’t say anything, instead he leaned in and bit your neck “ow! Fuck!” Your eyes shut at the pain, he bit you twice more before you pulled him off “Jonathan! What the fuck- whatever let’s get you to bed” you knew Jonathan would bite people when he’s drunk but this one really hurt

You placed Jonathan down on your bed, you sat on your bed waiting for you to tell him what to do “ok jon here’s a bucket, if you need to throw up do it in here, I’ll sleep in the other room, wake me up if you need anything" you placed the bucket beside the bed and looked at Jonathan, he had a look of uncertainty on his face. He still had his purple track suit on so your hand gently unzipped his zipper and took off his track suit, he was wearing nothing under that track suit “why are you wearing nothing under the track suit? you know what- doesn’t matter, I’ll get you a shirt" you walked over to your closet and rummaged around for anything that he could wear, finally you found a black Mötley Crüe shirt that Jonathan gave you. You walked back over “ok Jonathan, rase your arms up” Jonathan’s arms wobbled as they slightly got up, you gave up and just raised his arms up and pulled the shirt over him. Next was his pants, you prayed that he was wearing underwear and when you pulled down his pants thankfully he was, you got a par of sweat pants and put that on him, through out this whole time of putting on clothes for him he didn’t say a word. You looked at Jonathan’s and felt bad for him, your hands went to his face and with both hands on the side of his cheeks your raised his head up “you ok?” Your thumb rubbed on his cheek as he leaned his head into your hands and his hands went up to hang on to your wrists "can you….please stay with me…?” He looked down as his cheek was pressed against your hand “yea…sure” you let go of his face and sat closely beside him, close enough that Jonathan leaned his head on your shoulder

He groaned as the familiar feeling of him leaning on you came back, you twisted a strand of his hair in your finger “do you want to lay down?” He nodded and you got up and with one hand on the back of his head and the other on his chest, you gently laid him down on the bed; you walked over to the other side and laid down beside him “good night Jonathan, remember the bucket is beside you if you need to throw up” he scoots closer to you and hugs you tightly as he nods his head “thank you Y/N…” he buries his head into your neck “I love you….” You smiled and pat his head “I love you too Jon” you hug him as you both drift off into sleep

Jonathan is the first one to wake up, he notices that he’s holding on to you; he doesn’t have enough time to think of what’s going on he has the uncontrollable urge to throw up, he leans over the side on the bed and sees a bucket, he throws up in the bucket. You are woken up by the sound of Jonathan throwing up, you quickly sat up and held his hair back. Once he was done he looked over at you with tired eyes “what happened last night..?” He slowly blinked and waited for you to respond “I’ll tell you later….I’ll get some Advil from downstairs stay here” he nods as he watches you leave the room. He stares down at himself and sees that his track suit is gone and so are his purple pants, he sees he’s wearing a motley Crüe shirt that he gave you and a pare of your sweatpants, his mind starts to wonder to this morning where he was cuddling with you, *why was I cuddling them?* he thought to himself *and why am I wearing their clothes?* his mind tries to dig out any memory he had from last night but then he sees you enter the room with a pill bottle and a glass of water. You walk over to him and hand him the pill bottle, he opens it and you hand him the glass of water, he puts the pill in his mouth and swallows it down with water

“Make sure to drinks lots of water, it’ll help you" you sounded like his mother… well if his mother cared about him, he put his hand to his forehead and groaned “my head is pounding…” he whined as he laid back down, you sat beside him and felt his forehead with the back of your hand “you’re burning up, it’ll go away soon" you run your hand down to his cheek and rub your thumb on his cheek, he smiles at you as you lean down to kiss his cheek, your lips pull back with a pop sound as he smiles even wider "thank you for always taking care of me pumpkin” you laughed “pumpkin?” He started to laugh along with you as you leaned in again to kiss him on the lips, you pulled back once you tasted the vomit, you whipped your lips with your hand “I’ll give you all the kisses you want later hehe”

Through out the day you help Jonathan get over his hangover, you make him breakfast and give him lots of cuddles. You two sit on the couch watching MTV as he turns to you “you know…” you turn your head over to face him, he’s looking down and playing with his hair “I really appreciate all that you do for me, I mean I really do, I love you so much and you really do make me a better person" the moment he ended his sentence you turned his head to face you and gave him a long kiss, he quickly kissed you back holding your face close to him “of course Jon, I would do anything to make you feel safe and happy" you kiss him again before he can respond “I love you so much muffin” you laugh into his mouth as you two continue to kiss until dawn.

[izzyspussy]

why are they laughing at him as he gets straight up killed??? he doesn't deserve this! he's a sweet kid at heart! he literally just needs one (1) real friend!!

[paradiseprincesss]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝑻𝒐 𝑩𝒆 𝑬𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝑨𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 | Jonathan Crane

NOTES -> Hello hello! im gonna be in uni full time again starting first week of september so uploads will be much slowerrrr im sorry. I’ll try to write as much as i can for u my little loves!

REQUEST -> Based off the prompt 15 from this list here

SUMMARY -> Your boss, Jonathan Crane, plans on isolating you away from your old life, consuming you whole until you become nothing but devoted to him...and you're too naive to see the mind games that the expert psychiatrist is playing.

WORD COUNT -> 3.3k

WARNINGS -> Smut, p in v, soft!dark Jonathan, doctor/nurse relationship, boss/employee relationship, creampie

MASTERLIST

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jonathan felt his chest tighten as he narrowed his blue eyes behind his glasses. His focus was locked on you and only you, along with the orderly speaking to you for the last few minutes.

You were a nurse at Arkham, young and bright-eyed, so full of energy — and that caught Jonathan’s attention. Your unusually cheerful demeanour and sweet aura drew him in, whether he liked it or not. Maybe it was how you’d always give him a cute little wave every time he’d pass by you, or maybe it was how you’d smile at him when everyone else seemed to cower away from the stoic doctor. 

Or maybe it was because once he saw you leaving work in your everyday clothes instead of your usual scrubs, and when you seemingly bent over to pick up your keys which you dropped on the ground, he could see the lace of your pink panties poking out of your low-rise sweatpants — but I guess we’ll never know. 

See, that was the problem. You were so sweet, but you were like that with everyone you worked with; which made Jonathan feel inferior in many ways, but he promised himself that he’d have you eventually.

He didn’t want to hurt you by any means — oh god, no. He’d rather torture himself than watch you suffer through any anguish. However, he did want everyone around you to fall victim to a rather sinister fate if it meant they stayed away from you. 

Jonathan didn’t really consider himself a sadist, but watching those around you seemingly go missing and suddenly quit their jobs at Arkham (unwillingly, of course), derived an innate sense of pleasure within him. 

That was one of the perks of being the chief psychiatrist — he had all the power in the world to do whatever he pleased within the walls of Arkham, no matter who he hurt in the process. Jonathan would quietly fire many employees who he felt were “too friendly” with you, but he’d always tell you that they’d mysteriously quit or that they had changed jobs. 

“Perhaps they just didn’t have it in them to help the…unique patients we house here,” he’d say to you. “Not everyone is as dedicated and as kind as you are, you know?” 

Foolishly, you let his flattery get into your head; you let yourself fall for him without even realizing it.

You believed that the universe divinely guided you to him. You were sure of it — he was just so kind and understanding. You couldn’t believe the other staff of Arkham didn’t see him the way you did! How could they dislike him? Fear him? 

To Jonathan, you were like an angel that fell from above, capturing his cold, dead heart within your warm, beating, and very alive one. You were so kind to the patients, so gentle with them — and your patients only ever had good things to say about you. 

As you spoke to the orderly in front of you about what you did over the weekend, you noticed your boss looking rather tense from the corner of your eye. His jaw was clenched slightly, and his expression unforgiving. He exhaled sharply before ushering you over toward him, causing you to excuse yourself from your current conversation. 

“Doctor Crane,” you greeted sweetly, “how are you?”

“I’m rather stressed today,” he answered softly, taking on that same gentle tone that he always seemed to take with you. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Everything is fine, but I'm worried about you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently, cocking your head to the side slightly as if to emphasize your confusion. 

“I think perhaps we should speak in my office about this,” he offered. “Come with me, please.” 

Your smile suddenly faltered slightly as anxiety and paranoia ran rampant through your veins.

Your paranoid thoughts had to be put on the back burner as you took a seat across from him in his office, watching him as he sat down at his desk. His suit was pristine as always — and today, he opted for a brown sweater vest underneath it.

You’d count every thread and stitch on his suit for him if he asked you to. 

“Doctor Crane—”

“Just Jonathan is fine,” he interrupted before clearing his throat. “I wanted to speak to you in private about a certain concern of mine.” 

“What is it?”

He sighed before he took off his glasses and meticulously placed them on his desk. He leaned forward slightly, and you stayed quiet as he hesitated for a moment before his smooth voice finally cut through the silence in his office between the two of you. 

“I’m worried that you may be overworking yourself,” he explained, looking at you with his tantalizing eyes. “I notice you pick up shifts and work overtime frequently, and I worry that you may be taking on more than you can handle. As your boss, I just want to make sure that you’re not burning yourself out as that can’t be good for you, and I believe in a healthy work-life balance.”

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth, unsure as to what you could say to him — that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say to you. Perhaps you had been overworking yourself, but that was just a part of you. Having a strong work ethic was something you strongly believed in, but maybe he was right. You couldn’t care for your patients if you were too exhausted to, right? 

Now that he mentioned it, you were quite tired today. You started to think about it — as of recently, you’d been slamming coffees left right and center to stay awake at work, hadn’t you? You just wanted to help out since you were fairly new around here, but maybe it was doing you more damage than good.

Jonathan saw your usually cheerful demeanour deflate in his office, and he looked at you sympathetically, “I know this is not something you’d want to hear, especially from your boss of all people — but I just want to ensure that all my staff are doing well, you know?”

You bit your lip for a mere second, hesitating to speak before you let the words fall from your lips, “You know, Jonathan, sometimes I feel like you’re the only person here who actually…cares about me.” 

He internally applauded himself — in a moment of vulnerability, you sought out comfort in him. Just like he had planned. Just like he wanted.

“I think you’re an exceptional nurse,” he mused, “and truthfully, I do enjoy working alongside you. So yes, of course, I care about you. I remember when I first started working after finishing my residency, I would exhaust myself constantly. I’ve learned through many years that it’s just not good for you.” 

Jonathan’s plan was being executed perfectly — he wanted to isolate you. He wanted you to come running into his arms, far away from everyone else around you. He was on his worst behaviour today, but he believed you brought out the best in him. 

You weren’t overworking yourself, but with Jonathan’s quick wit, years of training in psychology, and exceptional gaslighting skills, you thought perhaps he was right. Maybe you should take some time off of work, you thought.

“Tell you what,” he said softly, “how about you and I have drinks tonight instead? Forget about work and such. I think you need it.”

His words caused your cheeks to heat up. He was your boss, and this was way out of line for a boss to ask an employee. However, it didn’t help that you were very attracted to him.

“Drinks?”

“My place at eight. I have a bottle of cabernet I think you’d enjoy — If I remember correctly, you said it was your favourite?” 

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “It is.” 

“So I'll see you tonight at eight, then,” he smiled softly, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “I’ll text you my address.” 

You nodded, slightly starstruck. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Once you’d parked your car on the side of the neighbourhood street, you stepped out into the chilly night, your high heels clicking against the pavement of the ground loudly as you made your way onto his porch.

You gave three soft raps to his front door before you heard shuffling coming from inside the house. After a few moments, the front door swung open gently, and Jonathan stood there with a small smile on his face.

“Come inside,” he ushered you, “make yourself at home, darling.”

And so you did. 

You two talked over a few glasses of cabernet, bringing up the topic of work a few times here and there, but he mostly attempted to get to know the real you. What you did in your spare time, what your hobbies were, if you were seeing anyone…

“Out of curiosity, are you seeing anyone?” Jonathan asked you casually, but his voice dropped an octave as he looked directly at you, resting his hand on your thigh rather boldly. “I’m asking because I've seen the way you look at me…” 

“I-I’m sorry?” you stammered, your cheeks feeling warmer and warmer by the second with the way his hand was now resting on your leg. You couldn’t deny it now. “I didn’t mean…um, I just — you’re always so kind to me…and I–”

He shushed you softly, creeping his hand up a little further. “I’m quite flattered, darling. Not to worry,” he purred. “I figured it wouldn’t be very appropriate of me to tell you how hard it is for me to not look at you when you’re at work, but after today, I just don’t think I can help myself anymore…” 

Suddenly, his lips brushed up against yours, and as if it was instinct, your hands came to wrap around his shoulders. He let you pull him in even closer, his hands now coming to rest on your hips as you two kissed feverishly on his couch.

You and him were like a chemical reaction — explosive, unpredictable, and potentially fatal.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips in between kisses. 

A shiver ran down your spine as his hold on your hips tightened slightly, his words causing your brain to short-circuit for a moment before you could think clearly again. 

“Jonathan, I–”

“Don’t speak, just give into it, my darling.”

You let yourself get lost in the constellation that was Jonathan Crane, letting him run his hands all over your body and kiss you with an insatiable hunger. Soft moans left your mouth as he peppered kisses down your jawline and neck, nipping at the delicate skin gently. 

You would’ve been worried about him leaving marks because you wouldn’t want your boss to see the next day at work — but you had to remind yourself that he was your boss. 

But none of that mattered when it felt so right; when his lips felt so good against your skin.

“Can I take this off?” he rasped, toying with the strap of your dress. 

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Please, Jonathan…”

Slowly, he took the dress off of your body, gently tossing the garment to the side as he looked at you in absolute awe. It was like looking at a priceless piece of art in a museum exhibit to him — nothing could compare. Even a picture wouldn’t do the sight in front of him justice. 

“Should we go upstairs?” you suddenly asked. 

Maybe it was the handful of wine you’d shared that evening, or maybe it was just sheer arousal; you weren’t sure which one, but all you knew was that you needed him to have his way with you. 

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, taking your hand in his. “Just up the stairs to the left — I think I'll let you lead the way, darling…”

The two of you got up from the couch, hand in hand, and Jonathan’s eyes roamed your body from behind as you made your way up the stairs together. 

Of course, you came prepared — you know, just in case things were to happen. Before you left, you threw on your sexiest, laciest, lingerie underneath your dress, and it was a good thing you did because that investment certainly paid off.

He watched your hips sway in your lingerie, along with the heels you were still wearing (because we simply can’t forget about those), and he could feel his cock straining against his pants. “Pretty girl,” he mumbled from behind you. “Your body is heavenly.” 

“Shush,” you giggled, grabbing him by his tie and pulling him close once you reached the bedroom. 

He looked down at you in the dim lighting of his bedroom, noticing the way your skin was glowing under it. Your hair was slightly messy from making out on the couch earlier, and you had a small smile tugging at your lips — you were perfection if he’d ever seen it. 

Jonathan kissed you rougher this time, his hands finding their way into your hair, tugging ever so gently against your scalp. He backed you up onto the bed, pushing you down onto it as he undid his tie, looming over your delicate body which was sprawled out on his king-sized bed. 

After taking his tie off, he threw off his suit jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. You hummed softly, running your heel against his leg as he rushed to get himself out of his clothes. The tent in his pants made it all the more obvious how desperate he truly was for you, but you stayed patient. 

Once he was on the bed with you, he helped you out of your bra and panties, causing your cheeks to heat up from how exposed you felt. “You’re cute when you blush,” he commented when he noticed your blush, making you all the more flustered while he undid his belt. 

After freeing himself, his thick, veiny cock caught your attention, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. He was big — you weren’t sure how that was supposed to fit, but right now you were so wet, you were almost certain your walls would stretch out around him with ease. 

He lined himself up with your dripping entrance, giving himself a few strokes before looking at you with his lip caught between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he whispered, and you nodded feverishly. 

“Please,” you whimpered.

Your back was arched and you let out a filthy moan as he slid himself into your warm, sticky cunt with little resistance. The sheer size of him alone had you feeling so full, and he stilled as he bottomed out in you so that you could adjust to him. “Tell me when,” he said softly, his hand coming to brush up against your hips softly. 

“You can move now,” you breathlessly said, giving him the green light. Your breath got caught in your throat as he started to set a gentle but deep pace, the tip of his cock brushing against that spongy spot inside of you with every thrust. 

“O-oh–” you moaned.

His hands found purchase on your hips, and his eyes trailed over your face as he fucked you sensually, but slowly, eventually going harder and faster as you got accumulated to him. “So fucking tight, Jesus—” he choked out. You’d never heard him curse before, and his smooth voice had you clenching around him, to which he let out another moan. “Fuck, darling — you feel so good.” 

“Mm-hmm!” you squeaked, taking his cock deeper and deeper into your soaked cunt with every stroke. “Jonathan, fuck—!”

“Right there, darling?” he cooed softly, slamming his cock into your hole much rougher now, causing you to see stars as he stretched you open on his thickness. “Feels good, baby?” 

“Yes, yes, yes — oh my god!” you chanted, grabbing onto his biceps as you felt his fat cock drilling you. You were letting out feverish moans, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you became increasingly more cock-drunk by the minute. 

Your moans were like music to Jonathan. Like the sound he would hear being played once he died and went to heaven — because to him, this was heaven. You’d come running into the arms of the man who was slowly isolating you, breaking you; cornering you into his heart. 

But there’s always something so right about something so inherently wrong, isn’t there? 

“I can feel you squeezing me,” he groaned, watching you with furrowed brows as he concentrated on your pleasure. “Are you close, darling? Fuck, you are, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered breathlessly, moans being forced out of you with every delicious thrust he gave your cunt. “Gonna– oh, I’m gonna cum!” 

Jonathan watched in a mixture of pure bliss, awe, and satisfaction as you fell apart in his very hands. Yes — this is where he wanted you. He just wanted to love you, to show you how perfect he was for you, to take care of you and make you see that everyone else around you was just a waste of time. 

No more talking to orderlies who’d flirt with you, no more going out for after-work drinks with the other nurses. No, none of that. He was going to make sure that you’d work under him only, figuratively and literally.

“Gon’ cum,” he groaned, feeling his cock spurting ropes of cum into your warm, tight hole as he gave you a few more lazy thrusts, not bothering to pull out. Your mind went blank as he filled you up wholly, stuffing you with his sticky, warm seed as you lay there fucked out from what just happened moments prior. “Why don’t you stay over tonight?”

You looked up at him groggily, mind still foggy from your orgasm. “What? I work tomorrow–”

“Take a paid day off,” he shrugged, pulling his softening cock out from your worn-out hole. “Use as many as you’d like darling, I won’t tell.” 

His teasing words caused you to throw your head back into the pillows blissfully with a sigh, genuinely believing that he only had your best interest at heart — he just didn’t want you to overwork yourself. It’s not like he was planning on totally locking you away from every living being in Gotham besides him or anything…

“I feel bad though,” you murmured sleepily. “I feel like I’m – I dunno – abusing my privileges.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty girl,” Jonathan assured you softly, turning off the lights so that only the moonlight was dimly shining into his bedroom. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head as he pulled the covers over you both, cradling you in his arms like you were made of fine china. “You know I only want what’s best for you.”

“You’re so lovely, Jon. You truly have such a kind soul.” 

“Surely nothing compared to yours, my darling,” he whispered against your hair as you closed your eyes. “Now, get some rest. We can talk about moving your things in here in the morning…”

Unfortunately, you had already dozed off in his embrace; too busy being washed away by sleep to hear his words. Jonathan smiled to himself — he’d never let you go now. You’d lost all control the moment you stepped into his house, unknowingly making yourself a hostage of some sort.  

In the end, as you clung to him, believing he was the saviour from your exhaustion, you failed to see that it was his “love” that had slowly consumed you whole, leaving you nothing but a hollow shell, devoured by the very hands that promised refuge.

Sometimes, the most dangerous traps are the ones we walk into willingly, thinking they’re the key to our freedom, as they say. But the cruel irony of it all is that we think we’re being saved from the jaws of this terrible world, only to be eaten alive by those who we call our saviours. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

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@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love @cranecat

[katethetank]

Ok I’ve never written anything before, and I’m obsessed with Steddie content. So without further adieu, here’s a modern day Steddie story where Eddie comes to terms with the hard truth that his husband’s snuggles might be more popular than his world famous band. This kind of got away from me and ended up way longer than I thought it would. Oops.

Content warnings: idk, TikTok I guess?! It’s fluffy and sweet, illusions to smut at the end

Eddie Munson was a notoriously private person. Corroded Coffin was the biggest metal/alt band in the world, and despite the fame, he managed to keep his personal life just that - personal.

There of course had been rumors over the last few years of who he was married to. Among the chunky metal rings that always adorned his fingers, fans couldn’t help but notice the simple silver band on his left ring finger. Paparazzi would occasionally catch him out in public with various women, leading his fans to speculate wildly who his mystery wife was.

But as soon as the rumors got started, they were quickly shut down. He was photographed once stumbling out of a club in New York with SNL star Robin Buckley on his arm. Social media went absolutely rabid and Robin made sure to clear things up the following Saturday on Weekend Update, announcing that she was in fact, a raging lesbian.

Not too long after that, Eddie was photographed clinking wine glasses with accomplished journalist Nancy Wheeler at a romantic rooftop restaurant in LA. When rumors started swirling around them of a secret affair, Nancy’s husband (and Rolling Stone photographer) Jonathan Byers put a stop to it by posting a picture of all three of them on his socials explaining that they were long time friends and out celebrating Nancy’s nomination for a Pulitzer.

Again the rumor mill started churning when Eddie was spotted giving a piggyback ride to pro skateboarder Max Mayfield after one of her competitions. Accusations of him “robbing the cradle” had her immediately posting a video on TikTok telling everyone off, fake gagging, and saying that Eddie was like her big brother. She then pulled Eddie into the frame asking, “Would you losers seriously believe I’d be into this ugly mug?” before promptly shoving his face away. Eddie was only a little offended.

Max’s video kind of blew up though, with everyone demanding more of Eddie’s presence on the app. Reluctantly he started his own account, his first video of him backstage at his sold out Madison Square Garden show, simply flashing the devil horns, sticking out his tongue, and greeting, “Hey assholes!”

It effectively broke the internet.

He was verified within a matter of hours, and had millions of followers within the first day.

Now all he had to do was figure out what the hell he was going to post. He didn’t want to share too much of his private life, but scrolling through the comments, he could see how much his fans truly loved seeing just that brief candid moment from him. So he started sharing bits and pieces behind the scenes at his shows, shots of the guys hanging out on the tour bus, and one lazy morning, a glimpse of his sleep-rumpled self in bed and his birds nest of bed head.

The comments on that last one exploded.

Everyone wanted to know who he was sharing that bed with, asking for a peek at his wife, if she was also famous. Who was he married to for god’s sake?!

He refused to take the bait.

One afternoon he set up his living room for a TikTok live, planning on just strumming his guitar, answering questions about the new album that was coming out, maybe taking some requests for songs to play. While he was glancing at the comments and plucking away at his acoustic, he didn’t hear the front door open, or the footsteps coming towards the room. He startled when he heard, “Babe, I’m home! I got you some more Honeycombs!”

Eddie froze. And the comments went absolutely fucking wild.

“Wait, was that a dude?!”

“Did some guy just call him babe???”

“SPOUSE REVEAL?!?!”

“OMG IS HE GAY???? I LOVE THIS FOR US!!”

“Oh I am so invested in this! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈”

“Honeycombs?! Really?!”

Eddie scrambled to set his guitar down, quickly thanked everyone for tuning in, and cut off the live stream.

Steve stepped into the room with a questioning look on his face. “Babe?… what’s wrong?”

Eddie glanced at him sheepishly mumbling, “We may have just spilled the beans on a live stream.”

“You were doing a live stream? What happened? And wait, what beans?”

Sighing heavily and running a hand through his hair, Eddie stood up and walked over to Steve, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I was doing a TikTok live, playing some songs and talking about the new record. I didn’t hear you come in, and when you shouted that you were home, it was apparently loud enough for everyone to hear. So I shut it down fast before the comments got even more out of control. I didn’t know what to say!”

Steve leaned in and gave Eddie a peck on the nose, hugged him tight, and asked, “Well… how bad were the comments? Do you think people are gonna freak out?”

“Freak out? In a good way, maybe. They all seemed pretty surprised to hear a guy’s voice and were asking for a spouse reveal.”

Steve furrowed his brows and thought about it for a few moments. “What if we did?”

“Did what?”

“A spouse reveal. I gotta admit, it’s been pretty annoying having everyone assume you’re sleeping with our friends! I don’t really like the idea of being in the public eye, but what if we just did a quick video or something to put the rumors to bed for good?”

Admittedly it was a pretty good idea. Eddie liked being able to share parts of his life with his fans, and Steve was the biggest part of his life. It would be nice to show him off for a moment and finally tell the world who put that ring on his finger.

“Yeah. Yeah, ok! Let’s do it!”

Eddie grabbed his phone, opened TikTok, and got comfy on the couch. Steve sat down next to him, cuddled into his side. He started the video with the camera just on himself, took a deep breath, and hit record.

“Hey guys! Sorry to dip out of my live stream so suddenly. I was a little thrown off with that interruption, but thought it would be best to come on here and clear the air. Yes, I’m married. Yes, my spouse is a man. Yes, my favorite cereal is Honeycombs, don’t come at me for that! And this is Steve.”

He tilted his phone so both his and Steve’s faces were in the frame. Steve smiled brightly and did a little finger wave. “Hey everybody!”

Eddie giggled and turned to kiss Steve on the cheek. Even after years of being together, Eddie’s affections still made him blush. Steve turned at looked at Eddie with stars in his eyes and whispered, “I love you babe.”

“I love you too sweetheart.”

They shared a brief kiss before Eddie ended the video and immediately posted it.

He effectively broke the internet again.

Millions of likes and comments flooded in, a huge wave of love and support from his fans. And of course, more questions.

“Shut up, they are so fucking cute I’m gonna puke”

“I’m so sad that the married rumors are true, but omg his husband is crazy hot! Good for him!”

“His name is Steve?! Why is that so adorable?!”

“Find yourself a man who looks at you like Steve looks at Eddie!”

“Who is this Steve?! TELL! ME! EVERYTHING!”

“We demand more Steve!”

“Ok I need more details immediately”

The demand for more Steve content did not stop. Eddie still wanted to keep his private life as private as possible, but Steve had no problem with popping up in a few videos here and there. Rolling his eyes in the background at Eddie’s antics, hands on his hips while scolding the band for being late to an interview, painting Eddie’s nails backstage before a show. Just little glimpses of Steve being Steve. His fans ate that shit up.

One night Eddie was left to his own devices while Steve was out having a “girls night” with Robin, Nancy, Max, and El. Why he wasn’t invited too he will never know. Not that he was jealous or anything. Totally not jealous. He decided to set up another TikTok live while he screwed around on his guitar. About an hour in, the front door flew open and in stumbled a very flushed, very giggly, very drunk Steve.

���BABE! I SAW ARIANA GRANDE TONIGHT!”

Eddie started laughing as Steve made his way into the living room, glancing at how the comments went absolutely apeshit again.

“Stevie, sweetheart, sit down before you hurt yourself.”

Steve took the guitar out of Eddie’s hands and plopped down in his lap. “Babe, seriously! I saw Ariana Grande! Me and the girls went to some club and Nancy got us into the VIP section, and there she was! Just! Sitting there looking all cool and famous! Babe, it was awesome!”

Chuckling, Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve, kissed him on his temple, and pointed at his phone set up on a tripod. “Stevie, you interrupted my live stream again. Say hi to everyone!”

Steve turned his head towards the phone, eyebrows raising up, and smiled dopily. “Oh! Hi guys! Did you hear?? I saw Ariana Grande!” He then quickly snapped his drunken gaze back towards Eddie. “OH MY GOD! Babe! Do you think she’s on here?! Can you message her?!” He turned back to the phone shouting, “Ariana! I’m Steve! We should hang out! Eddie, tell her we should hang out!”

Eddie started cackling and patted Steve’s head like a puppy. “Ok big boy, you’ve clearly had enough. Sorry guys, I’m gonna have to cut the stream short and put this one to bed. And uh, yeah. Ariana Grande, if you’re into hanging out with preppy former jocks who like to snuggle while they’re wasted, let me know I guess. Goodnight!”

Eddie looked down at Steve, who had tucked himself into Eddie’s chest while he was talking, and gave a little kiss on his head before ending the live stream.

“Hmmm… sleepy.”

“I know you’re sleepy sweetheart, let’s get you into jammies and tuck you in.”

The next morning Eddie awoke to a hungover Steve groaning into his neck, and a message on TikTok from none other than Ariana Grande.

“What the fuck?!”

“Hng… too loud.”

“Sweetheart. Stevie. Wake up!”

“No.” Steve pulled the covers over his face.

“Honey, seriously, you need to wake up. You’ve gotta see this.”

“Eds, I don’t wanna see shit, I wanna sleep.”

“Stevie, do you remember coming home last night and telling everyone on TikTok that you want to hang out with Ariana Grande?”

Steve flipped the covers back off and gave him an incredulous look. “I did not.”

“Yeah princess, you did. You stumbled in talking about how you saw her at a club and wanted to hang out with her. And guess the fuck what.”

“…….what?”

Eddie turned his phone for Steve to see the message.

“What the?… ‘Hey Eddie! I caught your livestream last night and my answer is yes! Steve seems like an absolute doll, I’d love to hang out with him’”

Steve looked at him with wide eyes and just stared for few beats.

“SHE WANTS TO HANG OUT WITH ME?!”

His volume made both men wince, Steve immediately grabbing his throbbing head and groaning.

“Yes, sweetheart, apparently babbling drunk gay men are her thing. So, when should I tell her you’re free?”

The following Wednesday, Steve was a nervous wreck. He had cleaned the house from top to bottom, prepped a gorgeous charcuterie board, had wine chilling in the fridge, and checked his hair about 30 times.

“Stevie, darling, sweetheart. You’ve got to calm down.”

“Calm down? CALM DOWN?! Eddie, Ariana fucking Grande is coming to our house! How is this even happening? What if we don’t have anything in common? What if she thinks I’m an awkward idiot? I don’t wanna screw this up!”

Eddie wrapped Steve up in his arms and gave him a tight squeeze. “You won’t screw anything up. Everyone loves you Stevie. Just be you, and she’ll love you too. And if you’re freaking out, I’m a phone call away, alright? I should only be at the studio for a few hours and then I’ll be home before you know it. You two will have a great time! Ok?!”

Steve let out a long suffering sigh. “Ok.”

The doorbell rang and Eddie took his hand, walking with Steve to go greet their guest of honor. As soon as the door opened, Ariana Grande herself was standing there with a huge smile on her face. “Steve! Oh my god, it’s so nice to meet you!” She immediately gave Steve a hug and barley even acknowledged Eddie standing there.

“Ok. Well. I guess I’m not needed here. Have fun you two! Don’t do anything I would do!” Steve laughed and gave him a quick peck before leading his guest into the house.

After a few hours of polishing some tracks on the new album, Eddie headed back home. He hadn’t heard from Steve the whole time he was out, and hoped that everything went smoothly with his new friend. Or whatever the hell this was.

Opening his front door, he was greeted with the sounds of giggles, clinking glass, and… are they watching Twilight?!

He pulled out his phone and started recording as he walked into the living room. “Here I am, coming home after hours of slaving away on our new album to find THIS.” He flipped the camera around to a view of Steve and apparently his new best friend, snuggled under a blanket, wine glasses in hand, a few empty bottles on the table, surrounded by a mess of crumbs, giggling at blue-tinted vampires playing baseball.

He flipped the camera back to himself, sulking “I think I’ve been replaced.”

Internet: broken.

“Did they just become best friends?!”

“Awwwww I want Steve Snuggles!”

“Living for this!!!!”

“#stevesnuggles”

“Wait, did he make her a charcuterie board??”

In the weeks that followed, #stevesnuggles took over social media. Everyone and their mother was gushing about Eddie’s adorable husband, wanting to see more of him, and his snuggles. Eddie couldn’t blame them, really. The man is adorable. But he still wanted to keep sort of a lid on their private life, so he limited most of his posts to just Corroded Coffin content. Anticipation for the new album was amping up, a tour was being planned, and the buzz was buzzing.

Unfortunately with all of the work leading up to the release, Eddie wasn’t getting enough of his daily allotment of Steve Time. He was looking forward to the weekend when his schedule was clear so he could finally have some quality time with his husband and soak up all of those famous snuggles.

Life had other plans, though. Friday afternoon he got a text from Steve saying that it was his turn to host girls night. Again, why was Eddie not invited to these things?? Not that he was jealous. Of course not. That would be crazy. He resigned himself to the fact that tonight, he’d have to share his husband.

When he stepped into their home, he immediately recognized the honking laughter of a tipsy Robin, Nancy’s adorable giggle, but there were several other voices he couldn’t decipher. Thinking ahead, he once again pulled out his phone and started recording.

“HONEY, I’M HO- the fuck?!”

It took him a moment to register what he was seeing. He flipped the camera around to focus on the absurd cuddle puddle on the floor. In a pile of what must have been every blanket and pillow in the house, was the obvious collection of Steve, Nancy, Robin, and apparently now Ariana. But then…

“Sweetheart, why are Rhianna and Taylor Swift on our living room floor?”

Steve just looked up at him pie-eyed and sweetly stated, “Girls night!” to which the bizzare collection of women shouted, “Hi Eddie!”

How many times can you break the internet before it stays broken?

“WHAT. THE FUCK.”

“Ummmmm best girls night ever?”

“How do I get an invite??”

“So Steve is just a magnet for powerful women then. Got it.”

“#STEVESNUGGLES OMG!!!”

Steve snuggles indeed. Eddie was so used to being in the limelight, it was a strange adjustment to have his once under the radar husband be in such high demand. Every time he posted a TikTok of the band, the comments were flooded with requests for more Steve. He did sometimes cave and give the people what they wanted. Quick videos of Steve cooking them dinner while dancing to his god forsaken pop music, sneak peeks of some of their new songs with Steve singing along, and ok, one thirst trap of him working out in their home gym. Eddie was a just a man after all, and his husband was hot.

The album was finally released and sales were through the roof. Corroded Coffin had never sold so many copies before and someone from the label insisted that their TikTok presence had everything to do with it. Was it actually them, or the love for Steve? Who’s to say. Either way, their concerts across the country were sold out in a matter of minutes and the band couldn’t wait to kick off their next tour.

The first show was in LA and Eddie had planned to do a quick TikTok before they took the stage. He started in the hallway backstage, welcoming everyone to the start of the tour, and made his way into the green room. “Alright everyone, let’s check in quick with the band and make sure these dickheads are ready to go! BOYS! ARE WE - Steve?! What the hell?”

He flipped the camera around to the view of Steve happily scrolling on his phone on one of the couches. With Dua Lipa cuddled up on one side of him and Lady goddamn Gaga on the other. What the fuck is his life?

“Babe! Hi! The girls were in town and came by to check out the show!”

“I’m sorry… THE GIRLS?! How do you even know them?!”

Steve raised an eyebrow at him like he was an idiot and said, “Lipa was on SNL and she had Robin get us connected. And Jon did a photo shoot with Stef and…basically the same thing.”

Stef?! Who the fuck is Stef? Wait right… Lada Gaga is a stage name.

Eddie flipped the camera back on himself and just. Stared. “I…I don’t know what the fuck is happening.”

Queue the comments.

“Ok is he like best friends with EVERY icon?!”

“Steve IS the icon! 💅”

“What’s a girl gotta do to get some #stevesnuggles in here?!”

“Omfg Eddie’s never gonna get his own #stevesnuggles now is he?”

“SHARE THE WEALTH”

“I can’t believe this app is free”

From there on the tour went off without a hitch and fans in every city were rabid for the new album. And of course Steve. Goddamnit. He’d occasionally see people in the crowd with “#stevesnuggles” t-shirts, or hear chants of “We want Steve!” Yeah, Eddie gets it. He wants Steve too. For himself.

Eddie took to posting a lot of videos from backstage with the band, sound checks, screwing around with the crew. And of course to appease the masses, some of Steve in his element. Putting on Gareth’s eyeliner, helping Jeff pick out his stage clothes, and rubbing Eddie’s shoulders after a grueling show. Just Steve mother henning everyone.

When they made it to New York, they had an appearance on SNL a few days before their concert. They got to catch up with Robin, meet the cast, and get a feel for what went into producing the show. Eddie hadn’t heard who the host was, not that it probably mattered much since they’d only see them at the end-of-show sign off.

He was in the middle of doing a livestream behind the scenes, walking the legendary halls of Studio 8H when he popped into his dressing room to show off the digs. “And here we have my office for the night…. Uh. Stevie? What? The fuck?” He turned the camera around to see Steve snuggled up with… goddamn Beyoncé.

“Hey babe! Did you meet Bee yet? She’s hosting tonight!”

No the fuck he didn’t meet “Bee!” And sorry, his husband is already on a nickname basis with this Queen?! Who the hell did he marry??

Goodbye internet.

“HOLY. SHIT.”

“Seriously, gay men have all the luck.”

“Two absolute queens, omg”

“BEYONCÉ GETS #STEVESNUGGLES OMG!!!”

“Eddie, your husband belongs to Bee now, my condolences”

“Don’t tell Jay Z”

The show went well even though Eddie was visibly shook by his husband’s new friend. Seriously, what is his life?! How much further was this going to go? He was relieved when the tour finally ended and they could go back to their bubble of domestic bliss. That is, until the next girls night probably!

Once they were back home and settled into their routine, he realized he needed to make some more content now that things have calmed down. Privacy was always important to him, but after a night of taking his husband apart over and over, he smirked and had an idea.

Quietly grabbing his phone off the nightstand, he started recording. Steve with his chaotic sex hair, neck covered in hickies, and curled up sound asleep on Eddie’s chest. A chest that was decorated in tattoos and nipple piercings, as well as fresh scratch marks. Eddie smirked at the camera, winked and whispered “hashtag Steve snuggles.”

RIP internet.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 14

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Patrick was nervous about stepping into your house to meet your grandma again after so many years. You thought it was sweet of him to bring flowers for her. And not just any flowers—he brought blue tulips, one of the rarest colors in the world.

The blue tulip is rare and expensive. Back then, it would have been impossible for him to afford it. Now that he's rich, he wants to show it to Cassandra. He regrets not being able to show it to Ophelia; it’s too late for that now.

He chose this unique color because, as Patrick explained, “Tulips and the color blue were your mother and grandma’s favorites.”

It was the sweetest gesture you had ever known, especially compared to anything your father had done. Jonathan’s level of ignorance was out of this world. It must be the only trait you inherited from him.

Jonathan never made an effort to give anything to your mom. Even with Genevieve, he hadn’t changed at all. That woman didn’t care as long as she became Madam Sinclair.

Cassandra was thrilled to meet Patrick again. Because of her dementia, she only remembered him as a teenager.

Patrick stepped inside, looking around with a mix of nostalgia and apprehension. “Hello, Cassandra,” he said gently, holding out the bouquet of blue tulips.

Cassandra’s eyes lit up when she saw the flowers. “Oh, Patrick, these are beautiful! Blue tulips, my favorite.” She beamed, her eyes sparkling with youthful joy.

Patrick smiled warmly. “I remember, Cassie. You always loved unique things.”

Cassandra took the flowers, her hands trembling slightly. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still the same thoughtful boy.”

Patrick chuckled softly. “And you haven’t changed either. Still as lovely as ever.”

You watched the exchange, feeling a lump form in your throat. It was like watching a piece of your mother’s past come to life. Patrick’s eyes were filled with sadness and fondness as he looked at Cassandra, and you could sense the depth of their shared history.

You left Patrick and Cassandra alone to relive the nostalgia.

Bucky commented, “For a moment, she looked younger when she saw Patrick.”

You nodded, glancing at your mother’s photo on the wall. ‘I will get back what’s ours,’ you thought.

Bucky stood right next to you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. You turned to him and said, “Since I met you, good things have happened to me. Thank you.”

Bucky smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “I can say the same,” he replied, gently touching your shoulder.

“You’re useless.” Those two words cut Victoria’s heart deeply, especially coming from her father.

She trembled, kneeling in front of Jonathan, who sat in a leather chair behind a large red mahogany desk. Genevieve stood behind her husband, visibly nervous.

“I made a foolish mistake,” Victoria admitted, knowing that apologizing would be futile.

“You did,” Jonathan replied calmly, though anger simmered beneath his composed exterior. He blamed both Victoria and Genevieve for the current situation.

These two women had jeopardized his ability to work with AstraNova Group. If he had known that his first daughter could secure a connection with the only son of the Barnes family, he would never have kicked you out. Then you would never have met Patrick.

He truly hated that part. The thought of his daughter being with Ophelia's ex-boyfriend was infuriating. He couldn’t stand the idea that the man who once loved his late wife was now close to his daughter. It felt like history repeating itself, a painful reminder of what he had lost and his mistakes.

But it was too late now. You had won. You had two influential business figures by your side. Jonathan knew you hated him and blamed him for Ophelia’s death. He had heard many times that you intended to bring down Celestial Enterprises.

He scoffed at the idea, wondering how someone who was just a teacher at a school for troubled kids could dismantle a billion-dollar company.

But you did. He shouldn’t have underestimated you because, after all, you were his daughter.

Today, the stocks of companies owned by Celestial Enterprises plummeted. All the news media covered the crisis. He had never dealt with such a catastrophe before.

He knew who was behind it. It wasn’t the Barnes.

It was Patrick. The man had finally made his appearance and challenged Jonathan to a battle.

Jonathan gritted his teeth and looked at Genevieve and Victoria. He stood up. “Both of you are jinxed.” He left, slamming the door behind him, leaving the mother and daughter alone.

Both flinched at the sound, never having seen him this angry before.

“Mom…” Victoria whispered, her voice trembling.

Genevieve massaged her head and raised her hand. “Be quiet.” She sighed, "I shouldn’t have brought up the idea of the engagement with the Barnes.” She regretted it. If the engagement had never happened, you would never have appeared.

“She got Bucky because she and her grandma found him. It’s not like she has something good to offer,” Victoria said bitterly.

Genevieve paused. “What are you talking about? Found Bucky?”

“Do you know that Bucky once got kidnapped?” Victoria replied.

Genevieve nodded, then stopped abruptly. She immediately left the room, leaving Victoria confused.

Genevieve got into her car and drove without her usual driver. The car stopped in front of a shady bar in a dark alley.

The bar was a dimly lit dive, with flickering neon signs casting eerie glows on the rough, graffitied walls. The clientele consisted of bikers in leather jackets, shady characters with shifty eyes, and people who looked like they had long histories with the law. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and alcohol, creating an atmosphere of danger and secrecy.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself before stepping out of the car and walking into the bar, her heels clicking sharply on the grimy floor. The eyes of the patrons followed her, a mixture of curiosity and suspicion in their gazes.

In her classy outfit, Genevieve stood out like a sore thumb, immediately becoming the center of attention. Some patrons whistled at her, but she ignored them, striding confidently through the room until she spotted the giant figure.

He was sitting alone, smoking a cigar, his presence dominating the space around him.

Genevieve stopped beside him. The man glanced at her momentarily and then smirked like the devil. “Are you here to see me?”

She was silent. Then she took a deep breath. "Twenty years ago," she said, her voice steady. "It was you who kidnapped the Barnes' only son, right?"

The man's eyes narrowed, and he took a long drag from his cigar, exhaling slowly. "And what if I did?" he replied, his smirk widening.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

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[luveline]

Steve zombie au with reader getting hurt at the new camp (like always) and Eddie offering support as a friend but Steve gets all jealous while trying to take care of HIS girl

for you my love ♡ steve zombie au —steve is riddled with guilty jealousy as you and eddie become friends. fem!reader 2k

It's a brave new world.

For starters, there are enough guns at camp and able bodied gunmen for fires in the daytime. There are warm meals eaten under the sun, songs sung quietly but nonetheless sung around the fire. There are happy children. There are books to be read to them, and batteries to power flashlights for story time under the stars. 

Things aren't perfect, but after the tragedy of The College, things are good enough. Steve can bring himself to leave your side (though not for the first few days where he's bed bound, and not for a few more after that). 

He can't lie, he hates that you like Eddie so much. His jealousy is a raging monster of stiff spines and dry eye twitches, insecurity that you've met someone new and that you trust them so quickly. 

You were cagey at The College, scared of Steve's friends and petrified Steve was going to break up with you. He couldn't understand at the time how you would ever think such a thing, but now, with Eddie sitting by your knee and a piece of string between his fingers weaving a cat's cradle, your eyes alight with delight, Steve gets it. He totally gets it. 

"It's not hard," Eddie promises you, letting the string fall from his fingers and into your lap. 

"I don't have a complicated brain," you say. 

"It's not rocket science. Even Steve can do it." 

Steve picks an overcooked Lima bean up from his discarded dinner tray and aims to flick it between Eddie's eyes. You're gathered around the campfire in your cold weather coats, a procession of young (ish) adults knee to knee chatting away the worthless hours. When the Lima bean smacks Eddie in the cheek, Steve could pin it on any number of the people gathered. Christopher is a renowned professional when it comes to bothering people, and Jonathan has that older brother's penchant for being irksome, but Steve owns up to it. 

"That's a touchdown." 

Eddie gives him the finger as he instructs you, completely unbothered. "It's those two fingers– No– Yeah, you got it. And then push this finger under this, and this finger… Nice." 

In another life, there's a Steve who doesn't care. He hasn't had to vy for your attention before besides sharing your friendship with Robin, and he's pathetically sorry about it —you should have friends. Steve thinks unabashed that you're the best person they ever made. All you want (all you've ever wanted) is to be loved and to give love back. He's known that about you for a very long time. And in his eyes you deserve what you want. 

You deserve to have friends. He can share Robin, and you can have friends of your own, too. You can have everything. 

Steve can't get a handle on how it's making him feel, is the issue. He's envious as a teenager with their first crush. 

"You honestly just need to practise," Eddie assures you, laying back in the grass with his arms behind his head. 

"You'll have to show me again." 

You stay sitting and Eddie shows you the pattern again without sitting up. You aren't flirting with one another. Steve wonders if that would feel better, to be jealous of something substantial, but you're doing normal things. Eddie is treating you with exactly the kindness and friendship you deserve. Steve wishes he managed it himself when you first met, because you're his best love and his best friend. 

Robin not included. (Robin is always included. Steve would die for her.) 

Like she can sense his devotion, Robin puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling his weight gently to the left. "You'll burn a hole in his leather jacket." 

"I hope he catches on fire." 

"What are you so worried about? She had plenty of chances to leave you for somebody new. Jonathan's been nothing but sweet to her the entire time they've known one another and she barely notices." 

Steve grimaces. "Jonathan likes her too?" 

"He wants to be her friend, just like Eddie. I, on the other hand, want to marry her." 

"Funny." Steve yanks grass up from its roots, the blades soft and cold between his fingers. There's an ice patch growing on his ass and thighs from the cold as the temperature drops. "It's fucking cold." 

"You can move closer. I need to go and find Sarah for a bit. Don't burn your new kicks, Steve, they were a great trade." 

Robin swapped a useless handgun for them to the resident portable blacksmith. Steve wriggles his toes in them gratefully. 

Steve and the remaining group move closer to the fire slowly. When the sky is black and smooth as velvet dotted only by stars like pin holes, Will comes running with a miraculous bag of marshmallows, trailed by his ragtag group of friends; Dustin with his fraying hat, Lucas, and a teenaged boy named Peter. 

Steve couldn't believe Lucas was alive at first. Eddie told the story to him when he was recovering in the shitty portable medbay. You'd been sleeping in the plastic chair by Steve's bed, your face pressed to his chest, a puddle of drool soaking into his t-shirt. He'd stroked your forehead for hours. 

Eddie and a whole bunch of Hellfire members didn't quite manage the escape rendezvous orchestrated by Hopper at the start of the apocalypse. You and Steve must have just missed them when they set out in Eddie's van for safety. The story goes that Eddie's shit with directions, and while he managed to get to Michigan eventually, it was hard. They met up with a group of much older people who were able to take some of the weight off, eventually finding a group of military soldiers who'd been drafted to protect a politician's family. Their group kept growing and growing. While they never set up camp somewhere permanent, they've kept it together. If Eddie's group (or moving community) had managed to make it to The College, Steve thinks they might have survived the attack.  

But you're together now. Hawkinites reunited, Hopper alive and well and nursing new plans. 

"Hopper give those to you?" Christopher asks Will. 

"How's that fair?" Eddie asks. "Family favouritism." 

"I have to share them," Will says. 

"Oh, well. Never mind. Accusation renounced." 

The teens kidnap Eddie and run off to find sticks for marshmallow roasting. You turn to Steve with a smile that makes him feel worse rather than better, so subtly devoted. 

"How's your arm?" you ask, leaning into his shoulder. 

"Aches." 

"Can I have a look?" you ask. 

Steve offers his arm with no qualms. You fight to push back the sleeve of his coat and jacket. His wound is closed and healing nicely, but the infection must've been in his muscle or something because the ache won't go away. It feels as though he's done a hundred pull ups with one arm alone. 

You don't touch anywhere near the site. 

"I think it's looking better." You thumb over one of his little moles. "Pretty." 

"You're pretty." 

"You're prettier," you say, folding his sleeves down again with infinite care. He thinks you might be batting your lashes at him. That, or he's whipped to the point of delusion. "You feel okay, hm? You're mopey tonight. Do you want to go sleep?" 

Steve shakes his head vehemently. "And miss marshmallows? No way." 

You both notice that your question of mood went unanswered. Luckily for him, you dip down to rub your cheek against his sleeve. "Love you." 

He loves you too. He says it under his breath, pressing his cheek to your head for as long as you're willing to stay there. 

"Y/N-kins, Steven," Eddie says, returning with a handful of long branches covered in foliage. "I have a job for you." 

You pull leaves off of the branches. It should be an easy job with the three of you sitting criss cross applesauce yanking the twigs naked excitedly, but you pull with too much enthusiasm and stab the meat of your thumb. 

You hiss and look down. Your noise draws Eddie and Steve's attention in tandem, Eddie closest to the injured hand. 

"Oh, shit," Eddie says, pulling his sleeve over his hand. He presses it to your skin as a surprisingly fat rivulet of blood springs and drips down to your wrist. "Here, don't get it on your clean coat." 

Steve doesn't know why he does it. He isn't proud. But he thinks, That's my girl. Eddie's being friendly, and Steve knows that's all it is, but he can't stop himself from batting Eddie's hand away and moving in protectively. 

"Cop a feel somewhere else, Munson," he bites. 

"Steve!" you say, laughing. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, sitting back in his spot with a laugh of his own. "Ridiculous. I wouldn't cop a feel ever 'cos I respect women–" 

"Nice," you say. 

"And if I were trying to flirt with her, Harrington, I'd definitely do it better. But as you both know my heart is promised to someone very important. I'm busy keeping the memory of metal alive, I don't have time for stealing girlfriends. Not that you're not worth stealing, Y/N." 

Steve dabs your hand. You wink at Eddie playfully. "You keep her alive, Eddie. Are you gonna play some more rock songs for us tonight?" 

"Duh." 

"How do you manage to hurt yourself every single day?" Steve asks, distracted from the conversation by your cut. It can't be a quarter of an inch long but it's bleeding in a rush. 

"See how it got faster when you came to save me?" you ask Steve. His heart drops, but you continue, "My heart gets faster when you're close. My blood pressure rises." 

Steve tries not to show how pleased he feels at the compliment. You tap his elbow knowingly. 

Steve assesses your cut. It stops bleeding just as soon as he leaves it alone and the kids arrive with their marshmallows, putting an end to Steve's makeshift medbay. 

Someone puts a couple more logs on the fire to get it roaring now that night is creeping in. Steve insists on roasting a marshmallow for you. 

"I have one working hand left," you protest. 

"And knowing your luck, you'll burn it." 

"I'd never control you like that," Eddie says, deadpan.

Steve stabs Eddie with a stick that's lightly smouldering at the tip. You tell Steve off, but when he presents you with a roasted marshmallow for eating you give him the world's greatest thank you kiss. Another after you've eaten it, your lips sticky with sugar. 

"Do you want mine?" Steve asks. 

You wrap your arm around his waist for a lopsided hug. "No. Don't ask me again though, I might say yes." 

"Do you want mine? Seriously, honey–" 

"I'll have it," Eddie says with a shit-eating smile, eyes trained on the fire where he toasts his own marshmallow. 

You wave your hand at him. "No, you won't." You lift your chin to kiss his cheek. "It's yours. Don't let it burn, handsome." 

Alright, Steve might have jumped the gun on the whole jealousy thing. 

[leslie057]

rating things owned by nancy elizabeth wheeler

because she’s got a lot of little things. mostly they are very cute and strange little things.

starting off strong we have the prettiest tissue box in the world. 9/10, i think if i were sick it would make me feel better to have such a nice tissue box.

i’m fairly certain this is her diary beside it because her diary looks pink in the upside down version of her bedroom. so this is probably it? 11/10, i want to read it so bad. and very sweet pic with mom—7.5/10.

next up these pinstripe pants !! 10/10 i love them so much. oh and the index finger ring is there obviously, 8/10, such a consistent piece of her character.

a ribbon for being the bestest girl ever in the world. 10/10. also the card of cardinals: 6/10, probably just a christmas card or something rather than a symbol of her love for birds. but i still like it.

mr rabbit gets 11/10 for the name alone. and why does he look dead. i love him. he’s me.

descent from xanadu: QUITE LITERALLY 0/10. at first i was SO excited to cheer her on for reading a sex and drugs book at school but as it turns out? bizarre and gross. seems to go heavy on nonconsensual stuff. i snagged a free pdf and command f’d for whore and bitch. lots of results obviously (one use of c*ck crazy bitch…lovely). it seems men in this book say a lot of sexist stuff that the women pretend to hate but love which i can’t imagine is great for a teenage girl to consume. also just not sexy at all.

literally so bad, and this is not the worst of it.

sooo bad. the author was what 70 (??) writing that his female character got clinically DIAGNOSED with being a slut for every guy she comes in contact with. i know options for sexy literature were probably limited at this time but…please go check out something else. i wanna bonk her on the head with this book (paperback) and hug her. you don’t need to read this to be cool and sexually aware. moving on.

on the other side of that, the blondie calendar gives us a sense of the GOOD media she’s consuming!! a 10/10 no questions asked. we don't really get to see many of her hobbies or interests outside of investigation so this is a much appreciated detail.

of course like all good things in life the blondie calendar does get replaced. its replacement is what i will call Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #1 seen in her room in s4. i give it a 4/10 because idk what’s going on really.

and here is a very crunchy screencap of Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #2 from s4 which i will give a 5/10. note the boyfriend typical photography above it, for sure a 10/10.

there is also Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #3 which gets an 8/10 because i like the composition and the piano player. where did she get this and why. interior decoration is her passion.

the sleeping bag and crochet pillow setup. 7/10. would take a cat nap here.

pluto!! 15/10, the best mickey mouse character i would say. i hope her cousin is taking good care of him.

bulletin board 10/10. i love how obvious it is that she has had this up for forever. probably a nice constant in her life.

and my favorite pic up there is this precious one. look at herrr. 5000/10.

her floral weekender bag. 6/10, i like it, but not as much as i like the speedwalk and the toss into the backseat. she was SO ready for her lab takedown road trip.

trapper keeper is a 9/10 because they probably put anything and everything on trapper keepers back in the day and yet still she chose this lovely understated hot air balloon. elegant.

tom cruise poster is 1000000/10 actually. she is so loyal to that man. actually though not a great pic of him all things considered so maybe i give it a 999999/10. (i love it so much because i know for a fact that jonathan byers works proactively to never acknowledge this poster, because he is more mature than that.) (he is not more mature than that, in fact he is a little pouty about mr cruise.)

KITTY FIGURINE. 10/10. i thought it was just in s4 but i found it on her other nightstand in s1. very very adorable. i imagine it is now one of the first things she sees in the morning (well that and her blue telephone: 8/10) which is bizarre and cute. the mixtape drawer gets a 10/10 for reasons that i don’t think i need to get into.

white fingerless gloves! 10/10. so chic for monster hunting.

black fingerless gloves from s4. hmmm 3/10, they're cool i guess but they don’t feel very nancy and the white ones are so much better. especially because you may get the splatter effect of monster blood on them in a battle scenario, which would be badass.

piggybank (with her name on the side). 2/10 unfortunately i don’t like him. he looks at me like i took out his whole pig village and i just need some quarters. also did she paint this herself? in that case, 3/10 for customization lol.

pastel underwear drawer: 10/10. her committment to the hollistic aesthetic and color palette of her room is impressive here. it was a good idea to use this drawer as a deterrence against her little brother and a money hiding place but clearly he has no manners and is a THIEF.

STRIPED SOCKS. 10/10. i realize it's hard to see because she's moving so fast (slow down he is not going anywhere) but they are indeed stripey even though i would have guessed solid white. and wow what good sleeping socks. stripes are just cozier. hope she got lots of sleep in those.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 38 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

38. the honorable thing

“Jonathan.” 

“Winston.” 

This is the first the hotelier has seen the former assassin leave his room for any kind of sustenance–how telling, that his first stop would be the bar. The older man lowers his voice, leaning in. “Not that it’s any of my business…but did you give that lovely young lady an engagement ring on false pretenses?”

John sighs, looking down into his bourbon. “Not because I don’t want to marry her, Winston.”

“Naturally.” 

John growls low in his throat. “I’m just trying to do the honorable thing.” 

“Presenting a lady with a ring without intending to actually marry her is certainly honorable.” 

“You don’t understand.” 

“Enlighten me. Or better yet, enlighten her. If your aim is to fool the Camorra, a believable fiancée she does not make.”

John resists the urge to bang his head on the polished oak bar.

“Or, don’t,” muses Winston. “I’ll finally be able to rent out the rooms next to yours. You have gotten more noise complaints with that woman in the past week than in the entirety of your time staying with us in previous years.”

John does hang his head in his hands at that.

“Winston…”

If Winston didn’t know any better…he would have almost thought the notorious assassin was embarrassed. 

“Just fix it, Jonathan. Otherwise, I promise you’ll regret it…” 

As Winston walks away John calls after him, “Do you ever get tired of being right all the time, old man?”

Winston chuckles, raises a hand in acknowledgement, and goes to greet another patron. 

***

You took the ring off for your training session with Mariko. When you returned to the room hours later, it was gone from the bathroom counter–and your first reaction was relief. 

John says nothing about it, when he returns from wherever he’s been. You decide not to either. Maybe the cleaning staff helped themselves. 

Good riddance and Enjoy. You’re tired of agonizing about it, and you want things to go back to the way they were before. 

He kisses you hello on the cheek, seemingly in a better mood than he has been all week. “Let’s have dinner downstairs tonight,” he proposes. This is news to you. You’ve heard tell of the legendary restaurant of The Continental, and of course the room service has been excellent, but it’s just not the same as dining in.

“Are you sure?” you ask, intrigued but suddenly wary. 

“Yes, if sounds good to you?” 

“I…would love that,” you admit, suddenly excited. It will mean getting dressed up–the opportunity to see John in one of his evening suits will make the fuss all worth it. Watching him get dressed here has become one of your favorite pastimes; it’s way better than anything on TV. 

***

Dinner is everything you’d hoped for and more. The food is out of this world, and better yet, John is sweet to you, tucking you in the shelter under his arm in the booth and speaking softly in your ear between courses. It reminds you a little of that beautiful dinner you had in Venice, before everything…changed. 

He looks handsome as the very devil in all black in the low light of the dining room, the reflection of the candle on the table in his dark irises glinting like hellfire. You cannot look away, be he god or devil or something in between, so utterly lost you are to this man. 

The wine is very good too, which is only part of the reason you clutch at his arm afterwards, trying not to trip over your new Louboutins and beaded Valentino gown. The sleeves are long, better to hide your bruises from training, but the high slit in your skirt is rather daring, and helpful for movement. He says he wants to show you something, which makes you giggle knowingly, but he doesn’t lead you back up to the room. You take a side corridor, finding it lets out to a narrow dark balcony on the fourth floor. You are in shadow, and you can watch the street below nearly unobserved. The skyscrapers beyond are lit up like birthday cakes. Maybe the city isn’t totally your speed, but it is interesting–for a little while. 

You are more than ready to return to your mountain, if ever you can. 

But for now, you are happy with the view, and the warmth of John’s arm around you–until he produces that damned little black box again. “Oh, John…” 

“Wait, y/n.” 

You sigh. “I’ll wear it when they come, ok? If…they ever fucking show up.” 

“I want you to wear it tonight.”

“Ugh.” 

You turn to go, suddenly exasperated and exhausted, until he pulls you back against the hard line of his body, claiming your mouth in a fiercely probing kiss. With his forehead pressed to yours he says through gritted teeth, “I’m asking you to marry me, y/n.” 

Maybe you can blame the wine, but it’s only then that you realize he’s serious. Your fingertips turn to claws, digging into the arms of his suit jacket. The flesh is so solid underneath. This is not a dream. 

This is not a drill. 

“John?” 

If you’re misreading this situation–again–you will lose your fucking mind. 

“I love you with every bit of my black, broken heart, y/n. I know I don’t deserve you, but I will spend every second we’re together trying to make up for what I did to you. Will you marry me?” 

You don’t answer him immediately, standing on tiptoe to press your lips to his. He’s the one who draws back first, searching your face desperately for the answer to his heartfelt question. 

“Yes! Yes, you dummy.” He nips you a little for that, but soon it turns into another long and sultry kiss, your arms flung around his neck, your bare back pressed into the wrought-iron railing under the fury of his ardor. 

Later, with his arms around you in a tight embrace, he grumbles, “I’m sorry I made this so painful.” 

You laugh a little, at yourself, and him. “How else would we go about anything, John?”

“Very funny.” You kiss his ear, snuggling into the bend of his neck again. The warm, spiced scent of his cologne and his skin is nearly as maddening as his kisses.

“Can we go upstairs now? I have something I want to show you.” He chuckles darkly at this, sucking at the skin of your neck, winning a shudder and your clit singing out with approval. 

“What a coincidence, my love.”

You decide you’ll never tire of hearing that. 

***

You cannot stop kissing. 

You are practically joined at the lips from your little enclave of a balcony, through the halls, and the elevator, and the whole walk to your room. Once you make it through the doorway John presses you up against the door as soon as it’s closed, his hand finding its way through the slit in your dress to cup your ass. 

You’d be a liar, if you said you hadn’t thought of that, when you’d selected it earlier. 

You do not rip each other’s clothes off though, like in some bosom-buster romance. You both are seeming to savor this closeness together, making out like teenagers, grinding against each other through your nice clothes. You moan as John takes mercy on you, sliding one of his muscled thighs between your legs, smiling against your mouth. 

“Wicked man.” 

“You love it.” 

“I love you. And–I’m going–to ruin your nice suit.” 

“Please do.”

What is the American version of noblesse-oblige?

You are so pent up that you nearly cum like that, riding his leg with his lips on your neck, sucking the tender flesh like he means to devour you. 

You see scarves in your future. Lots of them.  

But then he is moving you across the room, practically picking you up with an arm around your waist, guiding you down onto the couch. 

“I messed up again,” he muses, kneeling before you. “I was supposed to get down on my knees for you. Want a redo?” You laugh breathily as he pulls the scrap of silk that passes for panties down your thighs, his lips gravitating to the inside of your knee. He nips you lightly, making you jump. 

“I think…this more than makes up for it,” you sigh, as he kisses up the soft flesh of your inner thigh. The ring on your left hand glints in the low light as you run your fingers through his raven hair. The slit in the skirt wins again, making it so easy to sweep the fine fabric aside, leaving you spread bare before him. The hunger in his dark eyes lights your world on fire, and when his tongue touches your clit you think you might see God, or at least, your own version of heaven. 

The world is golden-edged, and maybe it’s stupid–but in that moment you feel like nothing bad can touch either of you.  

[amomentsescape]

Bro, I love your writing so much and it’s so cool to see some new Gotham stuff pop up on my feed s🥹❤️❤️🥹❤️🥹 if it’s alright, could I please have some fluffy and slightly suggestive headcanons of some Gotham boys, including but not limited to the J squad, with a punk or alt s/o? If you don’t want to do anything suggestive, tho, I totally understand

Please and thank you in advance if you decide to do this ❤️

J Squad + Oswald, Victor, & Bruce with Punk! Reader

Includes: Jerome, Jonathan, Jervis, Oswald, Victor, Bruce

A/N: I hope you enjoy! I wasn't able to make every character suggestive, but I tried my best to make the HC's fit your request!

Jerome Valeska

He loves your aesthetic

Has asked you time and time again to help him get dressed before a heist

Thinks your outfits would not only look badass while murdering people, but they would also help you blend in at night

"Practical and sexy, doll"

Loves when you place your tall, leather combat boot on his leg, asking him sweetly to help you lace it up

He likes to trace his fingers along your leg at this, sometimes going a little too high which earns him a swift smack to the hand

He just lets out a chuckle at this

"I'll get you back later..."

If you're out and about and he notices people looking at you, he immediately helps you embrace it

Will twirl you around in the middle of the street and place a big kiss to your lips

Whispers in your ear how gorgeous and sexy you are whenever he gets the chance

If he's out on a heist and he sees something he thinks you'll like, he'll take it

Even if it steers him off his current mission a bit

Starts having you paint his nails religiously as "good luck"

But in reality, he just likes how his pretty fingertips look wrapped around your neck

Jonathan Crane

This sweet boy is in awe of you

Your edgy looks, your interests, everything

He's never been introduced into this genre before, but you've opened a whole new world for him

Absolutely falls in love with the music you listen to

He just connects to it so well

He also adores being a dress up doll for you

Want to try out a new makeup look on him? Go for it.

You want to see what he'd look like in an edgier outfit? He's ready.

You want to dye his hair a crazy, experimental color? Let's do it!

Seeing him dressed similar to you empowers him in a way

He's used to being hidden in the background, so you pulling him away from that insecurity is like a completely different life to him

Gets extra touchy when you have chokers on

Will softly give you little kisses just above and below the accessory

He's ashamed of it, but he lets his eyes wander for just a little too long when you get all dressed up

He tries to hide it but will turn into a huge blushing and stuttering mess if you catch him in the act

Jervis Tetch

He's definitely intrigued by you

He's used to his world being full of chaotic color and fantasy

But you have this certain edge and uniqueness about you that he hasn't come across before

They say opposites attract for a reason

He feels like you balance him out

You actually help him feel his emotions and openly discuss the things floating around in his head

But of course, being opposites still come with a few disagreements

He finds your taste in music and makeup a little... much

His taste is a little softer and more elegant, but he's not one to judge what you enjoy

He's just tried listening to a couple of your favorite songs and found them scary

He's also not very knowledgeable in this particular genre

So if you bring up something, he'll simply look at you like you've grown a third head

But besides that, he's overall supportive on whatever you want to wear or do

Loves when you both get dressed up together for a night out

It gives him a deep sense of thrill when people look at you both while out

You two may have opposite styles, but your aesthetics are similar in the fact that they don't "fit in" with the public eye

And Jervis honestly loves that

Oswald Cobblepot

You caught Oswald's eye almost immediately when he first encountered you

Something about the way you held yourself drew him in

And when he got to know you?

He was so interested

He wanted to learn more about your clothing choices, the music and art styles you liked, what made you interested in the aesthetic, etc.

He might not share the same exact passion for the things you do, but he will always be very respectful on supporting your interests

He also just finds your look to be super attractive

He doesn't mean to, but he finds himself becoming a little more submissive around you

He's used to throwing out orders and making decisions in his normal day-to-day life

But coming home to you immediately allows him let go of those reigns

You just tell him what to do, and he'll do it

You've accidentally gotten him to whimper a couple times just by complimenting him or giving him words of praise

When you kiss him, you can feel his whole body fall into you

He literally turns into Jello

But he's still an emotional man too, so give him lots of love and attention, and he'll be fully content

Victor Zsasz

Well, obviously he adores how you look

I mean, he wouldn't consider his own look to be punk, but he's aware that he's taken inspiration from the genre in the past

Honestly thinks you two make a badass duo

Even the Zsaszettes admire you whenever you're around

He also likes how easy it is to spot you in a crowd

Not that he stalks you while he's out "working" or anything

He loves your normal outfits of course, but if you wear anything that shows a little skin?

Oh boy, does that dark gleam shine in his eye

He just about sinks his teeth into you (literally)

Victor is known to keep his cool no matter what, but you are able to tell when he really likes a particular outfit that day

A hand on your lower back, a lingering glance, and a teasing smile are all signs

But he also will not hesitate to pinch your butt at the most random times too, public or not

Makes you hold his weapons sometimes because he thinks they make you look even edgier

He also has a thing for any piercings you have too

He's not sure what it is, but he's fascinated with how the cool metal sinks into your skin

He'll play with them too if you let him

He's careful not to hurt you

Unless that's what you want, of course...

Bruce Wayne

He honestly doesn't really think anything of it or notice it much

Which isn't a bad thing by any means

Bruce doesn't judge based on looks, so however you decide to present yourself is just who you are in his eyes

But he also cares a lot about your interests

He'll happily sit beside you and listen to your music, shop with you for new clothes, and come with you for your latest piercing or tattoo

You name it, he's there

If it means a lot to you, then it means a lot to him

But he does think it's pretty cool to have such a badass partner

Has helped you dye your hair a handful of times

He kind of gets a slight thrill from knowing that he's the only one that gets to see all sides to you

People may see you one way when you're out in public, but he also gets to see you when you're at home sleeping in his bed or cuddled up on his couch watching some crazy show he's never heard of

He just likes knowing that he gets all of you

He finds it pretty romantic

Really likes any leather pieces you own

You may have persuaded him to buy a couple jackets based on ones that you already had in your closet

But he especially loves the leather on you

Becomes a bit touchier when you have it on, tracing his hands along the material

He thinks it looks great on you and will definitely let his gaze linger a little longer than usual

[buttdumplin]

John helps you with your pussy nukes.

Part 3 of Gender-affirming Price, Part 1, Part 2

I wrote this after having my own little pity party about my meds but then I was like, you know what? Price would never

cw: Price x transmasc!reader, established relationship, medical aspects of transitioning, reader's genitals referred to as "pussy" and "cock"

word count: 732

You’ve been at it for a while, sweaty and angry from so many failed attempts. You’ve tried squatting, you’ve tried laying on your back, you’ve tried laying on your side, and still you can’t seem to be able to get the right angle. Having to take these vaginal estrogen tablets is already a pain in sticking to the schedule and going out to get them and just knowing that it’s something you’ll have to stick to for the foreseeable future. All the scraping and poking and prodding only makes things worse. You know you need your dose tonight, but at this point your hands are too slippery from sweat to hold onto the tiny applicator. And you’re far too angry to trust the force of your hands. You have to ask John for help. 

John knows about these tablets. You explained early on what they were and what you needed them for. He has, however, never seen the actual application. Including him into your testosterone routine has been a dream. It’s reassured you both about your connection. Your weekly shots have turned into quiet comfort, the intimidating nature of the injections soothed by John’s care. For him, they’ve become moments of worship, where he can demonstrate his love for every part of you, just as you are. It’s really solidified for you how he sees you. You know you shouldn’t worry about the tablet, and you try to hold onto that as you call him to the bedroom. 

He’s at the door in seconds, his face shifting from slight concern to unfiltered delight. Leaning against the doorframe, he takes in the sight of you on the bed, bare from the waist down, legs wide open and a bit out of breath. 

“Is this for me?” his voice a rumble.

You huff and lift the little pink applicator straight into the air so he can see it, “I keep scraping myself and I can’t get deep enough.”

“I’ve never had that issue.”

“Nevermind,” you start to rise, but he’s easing you back with a gentle laugh.

“Give it here.”

You eye him skeptically, “It has to sit to dissolve. No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he swears. 

A moment later, you’re handing him the applicator, opening your legs further. It looks so small in his hand, barely a fraction of the size of his fingers. Damn. John catches your stare and wiggles his fingers, proud of himself. You smile back at him, rolling your eyes, and the world feels right again. He positions himself between your legs, muscle memory guiding him. Still, he can see your hands pushing down against your tummy, a motion he’s seen you make when you’re trying to self-soothe. 

“Countdown or surprise?” he presses a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, not moving until he feels you relax into the sheets.

“Countdown, please.” 

His hands move quickly and easily, no corrections or suggestions needed. You smile down at him as he removes the applicator, and it helps him breathe again. As skilled as he is, as confident as he is when it comes to knowing your body, there’s still always the chance he might hurt you. John lays his head against your thigh in relief. Your hand through his hair has his eyes fluttering closed, nuzzling further into the softness of your skin.

Before you can inhale to thank him, he surges up and wraps his lips around your tdick in a kiss, giving a pleased hum.

“JONATHAN.”

He lifts his head with a soft pop, eyes wide in mock shock.

“You said no pussy. Fine. Didn’t say anything about this sweet little cock.”

Your legs snap closed, and he crawls on top of you. To think you were concerned about this man. You should have known better. John’s grin is nothing short of devilish as he slowly eases his weight onto you. Using the weighted blanket approach will earn him some points and he knows it. You cradle his head as he buries his face into your neck, gratitude washing over you. The sheer luck of finding the man, of him loving you, will never stop astonishing you. You’re melting into the quiet of the moment when he shifts.

“John. Are you hard right now?”

“How could I not be? With such a gorgeous boy in my arms,” he speaks into skin.

You really should have known better.

AN: Don't let fucking ANYBODY make you feel bad about what you have to do to keep yourself physically and mentally healthy. Everyone's gender journey looks different.

The tablets referred to here are vaginal estrogen tablets. HRT will often cause atrophy in your genitals, so depending on what you want, you might have to take an additional set of hormones for the desired result. Your body and intimacy are yours, and there is no baseline requirement for what transness is. I love yall <3

[spaceorphan18]

SO's Guide to the Bridgerton Children so @coffeegleek can tell them apart ;)

Violet Bridgerton

Okay, so first of all this is the mom of all these children. Her husband was Edmund. He got stung by a bee and died, so he is no longer around.

Anthony Bridgerton

Okay, so the oldest son is Anthony. He is the current Viscount (don't ask me about British nobility, I know nothing) and is currently running the Bridgerton estate, though that is not his favorite thing to do. He had very unfortunate sideburns in season one. And he likes to shout things like "you are the bane of my existence" and "LILACS". He does have oldest child syndrome where he acts like he doesn't want to be in charge, but he totally loves being in charge and telling everyone what to do.

His wife is Kate Sharma. She is a delight, and possibly the second best character on this show (obviously after Penelope). So just remember, passionate and loud guy with Kate -- that is Anthony. Oh, and they have one child who is being born in India because Jonathan Bailey is apparently very in demand right now.

Benedict Bridgerton

Benedict is the artsy, bisexual who hangs out on the swings with Eloise. He is an actual delight, but the writers don't seem to really know what to do with him. He makes a good comedic foil to Anthony. Also they cut his hair for seasons 2 and 3 which doesn't help the whole looking the same thing. We're speculating his season is next because of a bunch of hints. In the books he falls in love with a lower class girl.

Colin Bridgerton

Colin is the sweet, sensitive (most likely demisexual) writer and world traveler. He's got some insecurity issues, a massive hero complex, and is a complete simp for his wife.

HOW HAVE YOU FOLLOWED ME FOR THE PAST TWO MONTHS AND NOT KNOW WHO COLIN IS - C'MON GIRL, PAY ATTENTION

He is married to Penelope Featherington, aka Lady Whistledown, aka the best damn character on this whole show. 90% of the time, Colin is hanging off Penelope, so he honestly should be easy to spot. Also, he got her pregnant BEFORE the wedding and little Lord Feathertington was born 8 months into their marriage.

Daphne Bridgerton

She was the main character of Season 1, who looks a lot like Keira Knightly. You don't really need to worry about her, because it's doubtful that she's coming back.

She is married to the Duke - Simon Basset, Lord of Hastings or something. He enjoys licking spoons. Daphne burns for him. Again, he's not coming back so, you know, I wouldn't worry about it.

They do have a child together, a little boy I believe and I think they hinted at a second one? Idk, maybe the kids will come back to hang out with Gregory and Hyacinth at the end of the series.

Eloise Bridgerton

Probably my personal favorite Bridgerton? (Idk, Colin wormed his way up there.) She stands out because Claudia Jessie is just amazing at giving her a lot quirky mannerisms. She doesn't want to get married and is really into women's rights. She is also fucking hilarious. I would love her to be asexual, but the writers insist she's getting a love story at some point, so.... The internet would prefer her to be a lesbian. That's cool, too, but also unlikely to happen.

Eloise spends a lot of her time on swings with Benedict and in is often the third wheel with Pen and Colin (though sometimes Colin is that third wheel).

She and Penelope are BFFs. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!

Francesca Bridgerton

Francesca is SUPER into the piano(forte) and really nothing else. There's really not a whole lot to say about her other than she IS probably going to be the lesbian of the show.

She is currently married to John Stirling. The two are very quiet together and that's exactly how they want it. Don't get too attached to him, he's most likely going to die in the next season. John also has a female cousin named Michaela, whom the internet is mad about because she is a woman -- making Francesca's future love interest a woman instead of a man. I say more power to the lesbians. Calm your tits folks, it'll be fine.

Gregory Bridgerton

OMG, look how adorable this kid is. He's gonna look just like his older brothers when he grows up. They've already given him a tad more to do in Season 3, and he's been an utter delight. I'm sure he'll be great leading Season 8 when we get to it in 2034.

Hyacinth Bridgerton

The youngest Bridgerton! She is excitable and energetic and super excited about all the marriages and also KNOWS who is ending up with who and is totally down for it. She is also a sassy delight and really can't wait until she starts holding her own with Eloise!

THERE YOU GO THAT'S THE WHOLE BRIDGERTON FAMILY - DOES THAT HELP??

[smoshyourheadin]

Hiii!!! Can I request Johnathan Byers x reader, where she comforts him after Steve breaks his camera? :)

no matter what

pairing: johnathan byers x f! reader

a/n: JOHNATHAN I LOVE YOU he’s so sweet and i LOVE this request!! requests open <3

jonathan sat on the bleachers, his eyes fixed on the broken camera in his hands. the shards of glass from the lens glinted in the dimming afternoon light, a stark reminder of steve harrington’s rage. he swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump forming in his throat. it wasn't just the camera - it was the culmination of everything. his mother’s erratic behavior, his brother’s disappearance, and now this. It felt like the last thread of normalcy had snapped.

“hey, jonathan,” your soft voice broke through his thoughts. He looked up to see you standing there, concern etched on your face. you had been friends with Jonathan for a while, always appreciating his quiet, introspective nature. He was different from the others in a way that drew you in. you’d become friends a few years ago, when you began babysitting for will - johnathan being the same age as you. when you got to going into highschool together, you become a cheerleader, and he stayed… johnathan. despite the popularity scale there was always an uspoken friendship between you, where you’d pair up with him when nobody else would - or he’d sit with you at lunch - or you’d give him your leftover baking that your team didn’t eat. just small things that brought you together.

“hey,” he mumbled, quickly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. he didn’t want you to see him like this - vulnerable and broken.

you sat down next to him, your gaze falling on the damaged camera. “danielle told me about what happened with you and steve yesterday whilst we were in practice last night,” you said gently. “i’m so sorry.”

jonathan shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “it’s just a camera,” he muttered, though his voice cracked slightly. he couldn’t hide the pain in his eyes, and you noticed.

“it’s not just a camera, jonathan,” you said, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “it’s your way of seeing the world, of capturing moments. it’s important.”

he sighed, his shoulders slumping. “i just feel so...helpless. everything is falling apart, and I can’t do anything about it.”

you scooted closer, your presence a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “you’re not helpless, jonathan. you’re one of the strongest people i know. what you’re going through... it’s a lot. but you don’t have to face it alone.”

his eyes met yours, and for a moment, he allowed himself to be vulnerable. “thanks,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “it means a lot, you being here.”

you smiled softly and reached into your bag, pulling out a small, wrapped box. “i know it’s not much, but i wanted to give you something.”

jonathan hesitated, then took the box and unwrapped it carefully. inside was a simple, but new camera. his eyes widened in surprise, and he looked up at you, speechless.

“it’s not as good as your old one,” you said quickly, “but i thought it might help. you can still take pictures, y’know, capture the moment. i just didn’t want you to lose that.”

jonathan’s eyes filled with tears, but this time they were tears of gratitude. “thank you,” he said, his voice breaking. “i don’t know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” you replied, pulling him into a gentle hug. “just know that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

jonathan hugged you back, his grip tight as if he was afraid you might disappear too. but you didn’t. you stayed right there, a constant, comforting presence in his chaotic world. for the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope.

as the sun set behind the bleachers, casting long shadows across the field, jonathan realized that even in the darkest moments, there could be light. and sometimes, that light came from the most unexpected places - those places could even be from a cheerleader.

[atinylittlepain]

Firehouse Harrington

firefighter!Steve Harrington x f!reader/f!oc

series masterlist

warnings | 18+ SMUT, wooh boy very much smut, angst, PTSD-like behavior, rough sex, slight dubcon in the beginning, seriously it's very much smut, ok???

a/n | this was inspired by a post I saw from @carolmunson about Mr. Harrington being a fireman, need I say more? Will definitely be writing for this man again.

For a long time, Steve felt like he wasn’t really great at anything. School never came easy to him, getting by with barely passing grades. Sure he was alright at sports in high school, but that faded fast. And King Steve? Well, that was all a facade. It seemed like everyone around him had some sort of talent. Nancy was a great writer. Jonathan, a great photographer. Robin was wicked smart. Eddie had the guitar. And Steve was just… Steve. 

After Vecna was defeated, he felt listless, like he was just moving through life without any direction. He didn’t have the grades for college. He was stuck in a dead-end job. All his friends were moving on to bigger and better things, and he was watching grass grow in Hawkins. At least when the world was ending, he had a purpose. 

But then, when Operation Desert Storm kicked off in 1990, Steve realized what he was great at. He enlisted that year, shipped straight to the gulf, because the one thing Steve knew he was great at was running towards danger and somehow figuring out how to handle it. It was the worst two years of his life, fighting a useless war that no one really understood. But it was there that he met some older men, vets who had reentered service. They told him that, when he got back to civilian life, the best job for a man with a taste for chaos would be at a fire station. And they were right.

Before he served, there was still a softness that Steve let show to the people he cared for, but something slid into place, steel plates over his heart. When he returned, he was harder, quieter. He moved to Indiannapolis, and while he was only twenty-six, he fit right in with the older men at one of the local fire stations. His days fell into simple rhythms. He smoked like a chimney, waiting for the alarm to blare so he could go into auto-pilot action. He never felt more at peace than when he was running into a burning building. It made him feel useful. 

On his nights off, some of the other men at the station would usually drag him out to bars, more often strip clubs, always goading each other into trying to get laid. Steve hated it, usually getting himself so drunk he could only remember slivers of the night behind his throbbing headache the next morning. The men were downright predatory towards women, wolf-whistling and shouting from the open garage at anything with legs. Steve hated that too, but he joined in because another part of him really liked it, the false power he felt when he’d flash a smarmy grin at women passing by. 

Today was no different. An uncharacteristically sweltering day towards the end of August. It was time for monthly maintenance on the trucks and Steve had been tasked with hosing them down. He was stripped down to just his white wife beater tucked into a pair of work pants, his dog tags sticking against the slightly damp skin of his chest. He heard one of the men let out a low whistle, whipping his head around in time to catch a glance of a pretty thing in a sweet little dress.

“Hey, sugar, you wanna come take a ride on a real fire truck?”  

“Pretty girl, where you going so fast, come spend some time with me!”

The men continued lobbing borderline obscene phrases her way. Steve just chuckled, watching her stop, stricken by the men’s shouts. Her knuckles turned white around the strap of her bag.

“In your dreams, perverts. Go fuck yourselves.” The men howled at her retaliation. Usually the women didn’t stick around to give them a piece of their minds. She flipped them off and then kept walking. Steve couldn’t help but smile at her boldness. A brief interruption to the usual rhythm.

…

They got a call that night from the Indiana University Campus. A microwave had exploded in one of the dorm’s communal kitchens. The fire itself was not a big deal, but they had evacuated the entire building, a frantic crowd of teens to sift through outside. Steve and his team have been trying to figure out just how the microwave exploded in the first place, and it’s proving near impossible as they try to talk to hysterical co-eds. A freshman points him to that floor’s RA and Steve feels his stomach twist when he sees who she is. The same girl that flipped him and his cat-calling team off just that afternoon. She was still wearing that pretty dress, now with a large sweater thrown over it in the cooling night. When she saw him approaching, it was clear she remembered him as well, letting out an incredulous laugh before furrowing her brow at him.

“You’re who they called? Fan-fucking-tastic. Tell me, did you put out the fire with an extinguisher? Or did you just harass it until it smothered out?” Steve’s jaw is slack. The mouth on this chick.

“Ma’am, my team and I are just trying to figure out what caused the fire in the first place, then we’ll be out of your hair.” She huffs.

“Well, I don’t think it takes a genius to put two and two together. You take a witless freshman coupled with an ancient microwave and sooner or later you’re gonna have a fire on your hands.” Her arms are crossed over her chest, hip cocked to the side as she glares at Steve. 

“Are you referring to the freshmen you’re supposed to be in charge of? I was told you’re the RA for the floor the fire was on.” She falters, just slightly. Steve’s got her on that one.

“Look, the fire is out, douchebag. Thank you so much for your help, now can you just let us get back into our fucking dorms?” Steve’s about to tell her what he thinks of her foul mouth, when one of his team calls him over. A resident has admitted they had started the fire by putting a metal fork into the microwave on accident. It’s a quick flurry of activity, giving the kid a stern talking to, and then clearing the scene. As the students start to shuffle back into the building, Steve cranes his neck from the truck, trying to find her again, but she’s lost in the crowd. He collapses into bed that night thinking about her very angry, very pretty face.

…

It’s Friday, Steve’s night off. He’s been prodded out to a bar by some of the other men at the station. The music is blaring and the lights are dim and all Steve wants is for the (very) stiff drinks to keep coming until everything starts to blur a little. Both of his buddies have slinked off with nameless women, getting their dicks wet while they can. Steve sits alone at the bar, nursing a few fingers of whiskey, when he hears a very familiar voice ordering a beer. He whips around in his seat, and sure enough, there she is, this time in jeans that fit too good and a little tank top. His throat tightens, and then she sees him and lets out that same disbelieving laugh.

“I must be more drunk than I thought because there’s no way in hell I’m actually seeing you again.” Steve snorts at her exasperation, throwing back the rest of his whiskey, grinning around the sting.

“Sorry, baby, we meet again.”

“I’m not your baby, dickweed. Have a nice night.” She spins to walk away but Steve, seemingly loosened up by the few glasses he’s already had, stands, grabbing her wrist to yank her back towards him. She stumbles on her feet, body pressing up against his to get her bearings.

“What the fuck is your problem? You can’t just—”

Her words die in her throat as Steve brings one large palm to rest along her neck, thumb pressing under her chin to tilt her face up to him.

“You know, you should really be careful how you run that mouth, baby. Someone might have half a mind to put it to better use.” His other hand rests on her hip, fingers dipping just below the waist of her jeans. She sneers at him.

“Oh yeah? Someone like you? You gonna put me in my place, big, tough, fireman?” His fingers on her neck firm up, pressing harder into her skin. The music’s too loud to hear, but he can feel the whimper thrumming in her throat. He splits into a snide smile.

“Oh baby, I think you want me to teach you a lesson.” Her eyes are blown wide, staring up at him, lips parted.

“Mmhm. In fact, I think you’d enjoy it.” He’s dipped down to let his lips murmur right up against her ear. He can feel the way she shudders against him. She gasps when he jerks back from her, grabbing one of her wrists to pull her behind him through the crowd. Her protests die in the thumping bass of the music.

He finds the bathroom towards the back of the bar, dragging her in behind him. It’s empty, and he locks the door before turning back to her.

They’re on each other in an instant. It’s a fight for dominance, all clashing teeth and clicking spit, hands grasping at whatever bare skin they can find. He wraps his hand around her throat, pulling back to look at her, swollen lips and darkened eyes.

“My name’s Steve, baby. I’m gonna wanna hear you saying it. Do you understand?” She nods, trying to dip back into his mouth, but he muscles her around until he’s pressing her up against the wall, digging his thick thigh between her legs to press harshly against her clothed cunt. She lets out a whine.

“I said, do you understand?” He presses against her harder, drawing a gasp from her.

“Yes.”

“Yes what, bunny?”

“Yes, Steve.” He grins, keeping his hand around her throat as he licks back into her mouth. He brings his other hand to her jeans, quickly undoing them and shoving his hand down the front of her panties. When he swipes through her folds, she moans, throwing her head back against the wall.

“Aw, you’re fucking soaked. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you like me, baby.” She whimpers as he presses hard circles into her clit, starting to grind her hips against his hand. He slips two fingers down to her entrance and she preens as he starts to thrust up into her. She’s putty in his hands, a writhing mess.

“This all you need, huh doll? Just needed my fingers to shut that dirty mouth of yours up? Look how desperate you are. Fucking slut. You like getting fucked in some dirty little bathroom by a stranger, huh? You that much of a whore?” He can feel her clenching around his fingers with his words, can tell she’s close. He takes his fingers away, and she whines at the loss of his touch.

“Asked you a question, doll. Tell me, are you that big of a slut?” 

“Fuck– please, p-please keep going. I was so fucking close– please keep g-going.” He just tuts, stepping back from her, noting how unsteady he is without his hand holding her up by her neck.

“Still such a dirty mouth, I think it’s time we put it to better use, yeah?” Her mascara is running, and though she still glares at him, she nods.

“Get on your knees, like a good girl.” He starts unbuckling his belt, watching as she slowly sinks to her knees.

Her eyes widen when he takes his cock out, stroking himself lazily before stepping forward to run the head along her bottom lip.

“Gonna be good for me, baby?” She nods, gazing up at him through her damp eyelashes.

He bends down, bringing his hand to stroke her cheek before smacking her across the face. It’s light, but still enough to make her head turn, she gasps.

“Words, doll.”

“Yes, Steve, I’m gonna be good for you.” He grins, standing back upright, guiding his dick to her lips. It’s heaven as she sinks her mouth down onto his cock. When she gets about halfway down, she starts to try to pull back, but Steve has another idea. He grabs onto her hair, fisting it to keep her in place. She whimpers, bringing her palms to his thighs to try to push away.

“Shh, shh, baby. You wanna be good for me, right? You gotta take it all, pretty. Take all of me down that little throat.” He starts to cant his hips forward, until he can feel her nose grazing his pelvis, her throat constricting around his cock. He pulls her off his dick by her hair and she sputters, eyes watery and choking on air. 

“Go ahead, baby. Keep being good for me.” He doesn’t even have to guide her, she dips back in, hollowing out her cheeks around his dick before taking all of him again. Steve groans when he hears her little gags. She slowly finds a rhythm, taking him as deep as she can and pulling off to suckle at the tip.

“Got a perfect mouth, bunny. Fuck– just needed something to do with it, huh?” She moans at that and the vibrations around his cock make him throw his head back.

“You like this, baby? Getting your throat fucked?” She hums in response. Steve chuckles.

“God, you really are a whore.” He looks down and can see that she’s dipped her hand into her panties. Steve yanks her back by her hair, causing her to gasp.

“Did I say you could touch yourself, doll?” She’s a mess, spit drooling down her chin, her makeup all but fucked off. She shakes her head.

“N-no, daddy.” Her eyes go wide the minute she says it, seemingly shocked by her own words. Steve’s brain short circuits for a moment before he chuckles.

“Oh, doll. Is that what you need? You need daddy to teach you a lesson?” He’s already hauling her up by her arms, pressing her front down against the sink countertop.

“Don’t worry, baby. Daddy’s gonna give you exactly what you need.” He yanks her jeans and panties down in one harsh swoop, causing her to whine from the stark chill of the air.

He runs his palm from the back of her thigh up to the meat of her ass, kneading into the skin there before drawing his hand back and slapping her hard. She jerks forward into the counter, and for a moment, Steve worries he’s gone too far, but then a long drawn out moan sounds from the back of her throat. He smirks.

“You’re something else, bunny. Why don’t you tell daddy what you need, huh?” He leans over her, cock slipping between her slick thighs. He pulls her head up by her hair until she’s looking at him through the mirror. He brings his lips right to her ear.

“What do you need, baby?”

“You, daddy. I need you.” He rears back to smack her ass again. 

“Gotta be more specific than that, doll.” She gasps, “y-your cock. Please, I need your cock. Need you to fuck me, daddy, please–”

“Shh, shh, pretty baby. Just had to ask, yeah? Use your words like a good girl. Daddy’s gonna give it to you.”

He strokes his cock between her folds, groaning at how wet she is before pressing up against her entrance. She keens as he starts to push in, back arching under him.

Steve lets out a low moan, “fuck, bunny, think your pretty little pussy can take all of me? S’fucking tight, christ.” She gasps as he continues to press forward, wiggling her hips back to take more of him.

“Yes, yes, I can take it, I can take it– fuck– please keep going, Steve.” They both sigh when his hips meet the plush of her ass. He hovers over her, pressing his forehead between her shoulder blades.

“God, you’re perfect. Fucking made for me.” He presses a kiss to the nape of her neck, “can I move, baby? You ok?” 

“Yes, yeah, please fuck me. Want you to fuck me, Steve.” That’s all the permission he needs, starting a desperate pace as he rolls his hips against her. His dog tags have slipped out of the collar of his shirt and are trailing the top of her spine as he continues to fuck her.

He brings one hand to snake down her front, finding her clit and drawing firm swipes across it, “need you to come for me, baby. Want you to come on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty?” She whines as he starts to draw sloppy circles around her clit.

“Y-yes, gonna come for you. Don’t stop– fuck– don’t stop.” He’s practically laying over her now, grinding his hips deeper into her. Steve can feel the pleasure pulling taut in his spine, on the brink of snapping.

“Come, baby. Come for me.” That’s all it takes. She yelps out a broken cry and he can feel her pulsing around him. He quickly pulls out, pumping himself a few times before he’s spurting all over her ass, shivering as he comes down. They’re both breathing hard, he rests his palms on the countertop, framing her body with his arms. She’s sunk down on her forearms, head dipped between her elbows. Steve takes a few deep breaths, tucking himself away before stepping back to take in his cooling spend dripping down her thighs.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Let me clean you up.”

He keeps a hand pressed to the hilt of her spine, a reassurance as he grabs a paper towel and gets it damp before drawing it across the mess he made. She whimpers under his ministrations, and he feels his heart catch in his chest. He gets down on his knees behind her, pressing a kiss to the back of each thigh before he slowly pulls her jeans back up around her hips. Steve can’t explain it, just a while ago she was making his blood boil, but now all he wants to do is take care of her.

He steps back, letting her press up and turn around to lean back against the counter. She swipes away the drippy mascara under her eyes. Steve’s fingers flicker with the urge to cup her cheek, stroke that soft bit of skin where he can still see the dampness of her tears. She’s smiling, still a little dazed. He clears his throat.

“Wanna apologize. For that day outside the station.” Her brow furrows.

“You weren’t the one howling at me, last time I checked.”

“No, but I didn’t stop them. I know that’s not right. They shouldn’t be talking like that to anyone. I should’ve stopped them.” She shrugs.

“I’ve heard worse. I should apologize too. For being so rude that night outside the dorm. I was really stressed, you know? And seeing you brought all that rage at those bastards back. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You were just trying to do your job.” She holds out her hand to him and he tentatively takes it in a firm shake. Steve speaks first.

“I’m sorry, but I’m realizing that I don’t even know your name.” She smiles and when she tells it to him, his brain starts playing it on an infinite loop, like a ditzy drugged-out drumbeat.

“Might be doing things a little backwards here, but are you hungry, wanna go get something to eat?” She grins, stepping in closer to him to let her palms span over his chest.

“Uh, yeah, you just gave me the workout of a lifetime. I’m fucking starving.” Steve feels like he’s melting under her touch. Something long dormant starting to stir.

“Still gonna have to work on that dirty mouth, huh, pretty?”

[shieldofiron]

Vibe Check Part 9

Bros for Life

The Frat Boy Au

Read Previous on Ao3 or tumblr.

It’s pretty much a tradition for all of Theta house to show up hungover as fuck to the pledge ceremony. After weeks of “getting to know you” activities and nervous team building exercises, the brothers tended to blow it out when the end was finally in sight.

Argyle had, only moments before they went down to the common area, thrown up. He raised his head from the toilet bowl, wiped his mouth, turned to Billy and said, “let’s do it to it, Broseph.”

Billy himself feels like a bag of puke propped up on unsturdy legs. He’s pretty sure he still smells like tequila and he and Carver are meeting eyes in solidarity. He mumbled his way through the speech, something about how this pledge class has shown real ingenuity, and as the rush week chair he was honored to welcome them as brothers.

Which was true. He’d just hoped he wouldn’t be biting back bile as he said it.

He’s only slightly annoyed about seeing his little sis around the house so often, now that Sinclair was a full pledge. But hopefully he would be graduated by the time Sinclair actually lived in the house.

Sinclair sits up when Munson read out that he was Billy’s little brother, looking fresh as a daisy. And wasn’t he sweet.

Argyle shuffles up to the podium next, tossing a long lock of hair over his back.

“Oye, Brochachos. Theta house is so honored to welcome you home. You know the past few weeks, getting to know you all,” Argyle pauses, looking a little green, but he powers through. “You’ve all got me thinking about the word brotherhood. Not the fuckin’ webster’s dictionary definition. How it feels.”

Billy shifts in his seat, tugging a little on the strings of his hoodie.

Argyle pounds his chest. “How it feels here. That deep certainty that other people got your back. That they see you for who you are, and they hold you for who you are. No bullshit. No hiding.…”

Billy looks down at his hands and then back up at the room. Like always, like he can’t help it, his eyes are drawn to Steve’s. And Steve, for once in what feels like forever, was already looking back.

Billy’s heart actually skips a beat. He can hear music, can feel the world tilt on it’s axis, all the shit he always feels. Only a thousand times worse because he actually said it out loud to Carver last night. Oh, Argyle has guessed, and Eden always gives him that look. But it was easy for Billy to brush them off, not deny it but not confirm it.

Saying is makes it feel so much more present, like he’s moments from getting up at the podium and shouting it out.

I love you, Steve. I love you, Steven Alessandro Harrington.

“My advice to all of you- even the brothers- is to be open to us. Come to brotherhood with an open heart,” Argyle taps his temple, “and an open mind. Let us be brotherhood to you, as you will be to us.”

The last sentence doesn’t even make any sense, Billy doesn’t know why he’s tearing up. He doesn’t know why Steve keeps looking at him with those big doe eyes. Steve hurts to look at, he’s so beautiful.

“You’re here because you chose to be here, and we choose you too. Today, we, your bothers, pledge to keep choosing you, day after day.” Argyle continues, the torturer.

At least Munson is sniffling too, so Billy didn’t feel quite as bad swiping a tear away. He breaks eye contact at serious emotional danger to himself and catches Munson looking at Carver and sniffling wetly, his eyes suspiciously red.

When Argyle starts the Theta chant, at least Billy can drown out his emotion in that, throwing an arm around Munson and sweeping his eyes over the group, ignoring the burn of Steve’s eyes on him. Munson stood, pulling Billy to follow Argyle to the basement for the actual ceremony.

But someone yanks at him, pulling him away from Munson, who quickly snags Jonathan, dragging him to the basement in Billy’s stead. Billy’s all turned around and quite frankly, feeling sick, as whoever it is pulls him away to the alcove in the hallway.

Billy blinks at Steve, still caught up in the flood of emotions and not quite sure where to put his hands when he realizes Steve still has his arm. He feels like he’s been caught with his pants down, and he tightens his shoulders. He was just looking because Argyle was talking about friendship. And Steve looked back, so how bad could it really be?

Steve shuffles awkwardly, “can we, um… talk?”

This is all Billy could hope for in the past few weeks, but when he’s teary and raw it feels more like a threat. He manages to nod at least, trying to subtly swipe at his face with his arm.

“Argyle really knows how to give a speech, huh?” Steve shoves his hands in his pockets, leaning back against the wall. They guessed in the 80s they used to use this alcove for a landline, but now it’s an empty little space at the back of the hall that people mostly use to make out. The thought won’t leave Billy’s head now that he’s thought it, and so on top of everything he can feel his ears going red.

“Yeah,” Billy says softly.

“Anyway, it just… I’m sorry that I haven’t been around so much. I’ve been learning some stuff about myself. But it doesn’t change… I mean… I really want to be friends again,” Steve bobs his head.

Billy opens his mouth but Steve cuts him off.

“Not that we aren’t friends, I mean… It’s just that you’re my best friend. And I feel like I’ve been so shitty. I want to do better. I can’t just… not show up for you because I’m going through shit.” Steve bows his head a little. He looks so adorably befuddled. Billy just wants to kiss his pretty boy head right off.

“Steve. It’s okay,” Billy says through the lump in his throat. “You’re allowed. Shit, if you’re going through something, and you just need some alone time or time with Robin… that’s what you need.”

Steve closes his eyes and swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Wanna hang out at the Tri Kap party tonight? I mean, if you’re going? I mean-”

Billy set a hand on Steve’s shoulder, trying to force the tremble out of his hand. “Yeah, of course, man. Is Robin coming?”

Steve shrugs, “I invited her but she thinks she hates sorority girls. I think she actually has a crush, ah… and she doesn’t want to run into them.”

Relief and caution floods through Billy so fast he could get a head rush. So they weren’t dating, at least not yet. Billy will take that.

Billy slides his arm around Steve’s waist, “Come on, bro. Let’s hurry before they start lighting the candles. That’s my favorite part.”

Steve is rigid for a second, and then relaxes into Billy’s grip.

“Argyle’s speech got to you too, huh?” Billy asks Steve as he tugs him towards the basement.

“You’re one to talk,” Steve reaches up and brushes some wetness off Billy’s cheeks.

He’s not crying anymore, but his face is still sensitive. Steve’s hand falls along with is eyes, and Billy only has a moment to wonder at what just happened.

“What can I say, I’m a real sensitive guy,” Billy could fly right now. It’s not everything he’s ever wanted, but he’s never gotten everything he’s ever wanted. “And I choose you everyday, Stevie.”

Billy cackles as a blush creeps past the hood of Steve’s Theta hoodie.

“I c-choose you too, Bils.”

Billy can’t stop grinning, which sucked because the ceremony was supposed to be serious, and also because the basement has a malodorous feet smell that they’d only been able to tame, not defeat.

He was hungover, still needed a shower from the night before, behind on homework… and he’d never been happier.

[littleclosetofbyler]

I personally don’t really want Byler to hook up in season 5 purely because it doesn’t feel like something either Mike or Will would jump to doing immediately, especially not Will (though we may see a more confident side of him in season 5 that might want to especially with an “end of the world” vibe weighing on them), I could see Will wanting a more “ease into it” or “sweet romance first” type of relationship, and having both Mike and Will go from deep in the closet to immediately dtf doesn’t feel right.

But I understand why people want it especially since in season 5 they’ll be older than Nancy was in season 1 and the same age as Jonathan and Nancy in season 2, and in season 1 Nancy hooked up with Steve and in season 2 Nancy and Jonathan hooked up, so by having Byler hook up, it does equivocate them with the other older teen straight ships we’ve so far seen be romantically entangled. A lot of media, especially teen media (which ST isn’t, but the majority of the characters are young) feel the need to “purify” queer ships, so Byler not hooking up may come across as trying to do just that.

But again I personally don’t want them to hook up because I don’t feel like it makes sense right away immediately after a confession or kiss for Will and Mike specifically. If there was to be a season 6 then that’s when I’d want them to have their own implied hook up scene because I think both characters wouldn’t be able to go from repressed in the closet to immediately hooking up at the drop of a hat, they already have enough to process and come to terms with regarding their sexuality, sex itself just seems like it would be something to build up to together.

(I’m aroace though so maybe that’s affecting my personal opinion?)

Anyways I do think the Duffers will give us a kiss, I think they’ve set it up where it’ll be this incredible moment of joy and catharsis, and I don’t think the Duffers are cowards, I think they’ll push for this especially since it’s the final season. Fuck Netflix, this is the culmination of a slow burn friends to lovers romance and I think they’ll want to do it justice.

I got indeed a lot of hate for that post, and your message. Thanks for being civil.

I think the opposite, it's not about being pure, it's about it needing to be just a friends to lovers without going overboard with hypersexualization or fan service.

The thing with S1 and the teens is that we as GA at the time, never saw them as teens, because we didn't know them at the time, they were new and getting into show for it.

In S5 when the kids will be that age (20-24 actors, 16 characters) it's "okay" but it's also weird as hell because they entered the story at 11... i don't know about you but I would rather no see this kind of scene with anyone I would have meet at that age.

When I say a lot of you are young for this, I mean it in the sense that you haven't seen the fandom act; the same happened with Harry Potter in 2001 when we didn't even know how to stories would end, everyone was insane for it.

Then the infamous scene in that last part happened and... everyone was weirded out.

Media is a weird format, and a lot of fans are weird, doesn't matter which side we are from.

And people just leave a comment, I don't go well with asks, I don't even know how they work, i am here for the theories.

[galactic-magick]

You’re Not Scary, Johnny: The Spot x Reader

Summary: What if Spot’s family didn’t leave him after the accident? In other words, Jonathan had a spouse and baby daughter and goes to see them for the first time since becoming The Spot.

Words: 1.8k+

Warnings: Some swearing and vague mentions of suicidal thoughts

Author’s Notes: The baby daughter is not specified to be biological or adopted bc I wanted to keep the reader gender-neutral! Also thanks to Julia from The Spot discord server I’m in for suggesting the name Dottie! (haha get it like spot and dot)

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Jonathan wasn’t one to immediately give up on anything.

After all, he was one of the top scientists working on Alchemax’s toughest project, full of initial failures and screw-ups. He had numerous opportunities to quit during his lengthy years of schooling and career, but he never did. He was always incredibly self-driven, and having a family in edition to that motivated him to succeed even more. He married you—the most wonderful person in the universe to him, and had a beautiful daughter named Dottie he couldn’t wait to raise with you.

That is, until he woke up on the Alchemax floor that dreadful day, surrounded by debris from the destroyed collider.

He remembers seeing his hands first, ghost white with a couple black spots on each. But they weren’t like a bruise or mole that stayed it place—they were fluctuating and pulsing like dark matter. Convinced he was just seeing things, he tried to rub his eyes, only to feel nothing and instead see his fingers come out through a hole on his leg.

He screamed in terror, pushing his gangly body off the ground and stumbling towards the nearest reflective surface he could find.

“No, no, no-” his voice shook, looking at himself for the first time.

He turns away, too horrified to look any longer. He couldn’t go home to you like this, let alone live any sort of life at all like this. He scans his gaze over the rubble, running to the first intact thing he sees. “I can- I can fix this. There has to be a way to fix this!”

Jonathan wasn’t one to immediately give up on anything.

He got to work searching for anything salvageable from the labs and collider, theorizing and writing equations and running tests for weeks, not that he realized it had been that long. His mind bordered on madness, obsessing over every single detail that could possibly fix him.

“I have to fix this, I have to fix this…” he muttered to himself over and over, voice cracking. Every test and experiment failed day after day, nothing worked. He didn’t want to give up, but maybe this was something not even his genius intellect could fix.

Jonathan wasn’t one to immediately give up on anything—but now he had to.

He slumped onto the floor, wailing into the void of the abandoned building. He screamed and cried as much as he could without having tears, begging to anyone who could hear to be put out of his misery.

His face fell to his hands, or at least what was left of one. His thoughts returned to you, with your sweet eyes and smile he adored so much and the heartwarming memories you’ve shared over the years. You’re his everything, his other half, and everything he’s ever wanted. He thought about holding your daughter for the first time, wanting to give her the world and more.

He couldn’t go back to you like this. He couldn’t even look at himself, so why would you? His daughter would surely be afraid of him and he’d lose everyone he loved in an instant. He couldn’t put himself through that, he just couldn’t. You probably think he’s already dead, might as well let you remember him as he was.

-

You never thought you’d have to deal with being a single parent. You and Jonathan have an incredibly healthy relationship and marriage, so you figured you’d be together forever. You never thought you’d have the unthinkable happen to you, having to go on after the death of a husband.

Each day gets harder and harder, and everything that was fine or even good before becomes a struggle. You know pretty soon your emergency savings will run out and paying rent will be a problem, and you’ll have to start picking up overtime at work and have to spend less time with the baby. You’re more alone than you’ve ever been in your life, and you still don’t even know for sure what happened.

No one dares stand up to Alchemax, not even after a disaster like this. You had asked Jonathan multiple times to consider somewhere better to work, but he assured you it was the only place he could do the full extent of his work, which you understood. Still, if he had left this wouldn’t have happened to him.

He wouldn’t be dead.

All you want to know is how he died. Was it painful? Was it quick? Was it peaceful?

Every night you lie awake, the questions racing through your mind. Most days you’re thankful that Dottie is not a fussy baby, but sometimes you wish she was so you’d at least have something to distract you.

-

It’s been a few months since the accident, and Jonathan is still crippled with fear. He refuses to look at himself, covering himself with layers of clothing to get around the city and avoid seeing his own skin. He tries to keep ignoring the voice in the back of his mind telling him to go home, muffling it with the anxiety of being seen by the one person  who could completely shatter his soul.

But if he did go to see you, at least he’d finally know. He wouldn’t be left wondering his whole life what you’d say and how you’d react. He might not have the both literal and metaphorical hole in his heart aching for closure forever.

He knows you’re usually home by the hour, the baby probably down for a nap while you have some free-time. He approaches the door of your shared apartment, hand hovering next to the door. He knocks quietly, and hears you shuffling towards it.

“Who is it?” your voice is like honey, and his heart wrenches.

“Please don’t—please don’t freak out, okay darling? It’s Jonathan,”

The door swings open faster than he thought possible, and you fling yourself into him.

“Holy shit I thought you were dead, I-” you sob into his chest, your tears blurring your vision enough that you can’t see him clearly. “They said—they said everyone in the building died from that explosion-”

You pull away slightly, looking him up and down.

“Why do you have so many layers on? It’s super warm out,” you reach up to pull off the mask and glasses over his face, but he stops you.

“There’s something you need to know before you do that,” he says. “I survived, yes, but not without enormous cost. The explosion left me severely deformed,”

You try to fight his grip on your hand, attempting to reach up again, “Johnny, you know I will still love you no matter what. Please just let me see you-”

“No.”

A wave of deep concern washes over your features, “What happened?”

“I-I tried to fix it, but it can’t be fixed. I’m a monster now, I don’t even look human anymore. Somehow my body fused with a black hole I was carrying during the explosion, and now that’s all I am...just holes,”

You do your best to take in and process his words, but you know you won’t truly understand until you see it for yourself.

“I’m going to look at you, okay?” you tell him sternly.

He sighs in surrender, awaiting the inevitable. You start by taking off his gloves, interlocking your fingers with his white ones. He hums at your touch.

“I’m still here, Johnny,” you assure him. Next you unzip and slip off his jacket, revealing his torso and arms covered in black spots. It’s certainly strange, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t, but it doesn’t scare you. The spots look like splotches on an artistic painting, and you already love them.

You decide to wait to take off his pants and shoes, and instead bring your hands to his head. You remove his hat, smoothing your palms over his completely white and bald head. Of course you loved his gorgeous hair before, but you’ll get used to this.

You hesitate your fingers around his face, waiting for a sign of approval.

Jonathan nods, but he grabs your hands once again, “Darling, I literally don’t have a face anymore. You’re not going to see what you want to see,”

“I don’t care. I want you no matter what,”

You rip off his mask and glasses in one go, met with a deep black hole staring back at you.

He sighs again, turning away from your gaze, “I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore. You don’t deserve a life married to someone like me,”

“Johnathan,” you scold him. “When I married you I promised to love you no matter what. For better and for worse and all that shit, okay? Sure this will be an adjustment, but I want to adjust with you. I’m just happy you’re alive,”

You watch as his face spot fluctuates in size and shape, and you decide to interpret that as his new way of expressing emotions. You appear to be right, because he quickly pulls you into a tight embrace and whimpers into your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he mumbles, his body shaking as he holds you closer and closer, to the point you feel yourself going through a couple of his spots. “But what about Dottie? She’ll cry every time she sees me,”

“You don’t know that,” you say, rubbing his back, tracing your fingers around one of his spots. “Her first word was ‘Dada’ you know. I talked about you a lot to her while you were gone,”

“Really?”

“Mmhm. She can crawl now too. I’ll go get her from her crib, this is usually around the time she wakes up anyway,”

Jonathan slowly releases his grip as you slip out of his arms, bracing himself for whatever might happen. He looks like something from a horror movie, of course she’s going to be afraid. He may have lucked out with you wanting to stay with him, but there’s no promises his daughter will feel the same.

You come out of the bedroom holding her, a bit bigger than the last time he saw her. You place her gently on the floor so she can crawl around, and she doesn’t even seem to notice Jonathan at first, more interested in the toy next to her. She grabs it and sits upright, and then finally sees him.

To Jonathan’s surprise, she doesn’t seem phased by his appearance. She simply cocks her head slightly to the side and stares at him.

“Dada!” she finally babbles, giggling to herself.

“She...she recognizes me?” he asks, in awe of her cute little face.

She continues to giggle, repeating his name over and over. She rolls forward onto her hands and starts crawling towards him, grabbing onto his leg. Jonathan leans down to pick her up, and she flails around happily, settling into his arms and poking her hands into his holes on his face and chest.

“How is she not scared of me?” he says, completely dumbfounded.

“Because you’re not scary, Johnny,” you smile, wrapping your arms around the two of them and kissing his cheek. “You’re family. Spots or not,”

Dottie squeals as if in agreement.

“I suppose so,” he hums, resting his head on top of yours.

Jonathan would never give this up for anything.