#My post might seem a little dim to others

[pbaz7]

CROSSING THE LINE — PART NINE ♡

paige x azzi

warnings: panic attack

word count: 5k

A/N: This chapter was a little sad to write but I liked detailed I was able to get with Paige's feelings . If you didn't see my post earlier I'm not sure where I'm going from here yet with this story. This might be one of the last chapters with like an epilogue or something but idk fully yet. Please let me know what you think and leave live reactions and comments if you can! Hope everyone had a nice holiday 😊

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Mid February 2024

Paige stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face pale, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. The weight of it all felt unbearable. Her mind churned with a constant noise—comments, critiques, expectations, all bouncing off the walls of her head. No matter how hard she worked, it was never enough. Each day was a new round of judgment, and she was so tired no matter how much she tried to hide it. 

It was February, and UConn had only lost two games this season, but both had come with a heavy cost. The media storm that followed each loss made it feel like the world was spinning just a little bit too fast, dragging her along with it. Geno’s contradicting criticisms were always looming. She was too passive one game, too aggressive the next, but always too something. She shot too much, didn’t shoot enough, forced too many shots. Every mistake, every misstep, every decision, was held under a microscope, dissected and discussed endlessly.

Paige’s breath came in shallow gasps as she stared at herself in the mirror, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. The scoreboard in her mind was relentless. If she didn’t get at least 25, if she didn’t clearly dominate the game, she wasn’t good enough. It didn’t matter that she was impacting the game in other ways—her assists, her defense, her leadership, her mere gravity on the court. None of that seemed to matter. Only the numbers in the point column.

The pressure was suffocating. No matter how many hours she spent perfecting her game, it was never enough.

Every morning, the first thought in her head wasn’t about the game ahead—it was about the headlines, the tweets, the messages people were sending. Every night, she lay awake replaying her mistakes, wondering how she could have done more. What if she’d pushed harder, passed differently, shot better? What if she had been more aggressive? The question haunted her like a shadow, chasing her down until she couldn’t tell where the doubt ended and she began.

The whispers were always there—people talking about her, criticizing her, claiming she wasn’t the player they thought she should be, the player she used to be. Even her own coach had joined the chorus of voices pointing out her flaws. She could feel the eyes on her during every practice, every game. Everyone was waiting for her to fall, to break under the pressure.

And sometimes, Paige felt like she might.

Azzi slowly noticed it over time. Paige had been quieter than usual during practice, a little more withdrawn in her celebrations, a little more distant. When they were on the court together, Azzi could see the way Paige was moving—slower, as if every step took more energy than the last. She was still putting in the work everyday, but it wasn’t the same. Her confidence, her usual fire, seemed dimmed. Azzi knew Paige well enough to recognize the signs.

So after a seemingly difficult practice for Paige one day, when the gym was nearly empty and the others were gathering their things, Azzi caught up with Paige. She stood in front of her, blocking her path to the locker room, her eyes soft but insistent.

"Paige," Azzi said, her voice gentle but firm. "What’s going on?"

"I’m fine Az," Paige muttered, her tone a little flat.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, especially considering her girlfriend's tone with her. She took a step closer, closing the distance between them.

"You’re not fine," she said quietly, her voice threaded with concern. "You’re putting on a mask, but you know I can see through it."

Paige hesitated for a moment, her gaze dropping to the floor as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She could feel Azzi’s eyes on her, the concern there in the way she was looking at her, but for some reason, the words felt stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to admit how bad it was lately, how much it was all eating away at her.

"I don’t know," Paige said quietly, her voice laced with frustration, a vulnerability she wasn’t used to showing. "It’s just... everything’s too much right now. The pressure. The expectations. I feel like I’m drowning, Azzi. I can’t keep up."

Azzi's heart twisted as she took a step closer, her hand reaching out to gently grasp Paige's arm. "Talk to me, baby," Azzi said softly, her voice full of warmth and care. "You know you’re not in this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, you can share it with me."

Paige let out a shaky breath, the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill over. She could feel the walls she’d built around herself start to crack, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she wanted to let them fall. She wanted everyone to see everything—the weight of it all, the suffocating pressure she couldn’t escape. She wanted everyone to see just how bad they had made her feel. 

"I just... I don’t know how to do this anymore Az," Paige admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "No matter how hard I try, I’m never enough. The media’s on me, Geno’s on me, even our own damn fans are on me, everyone has something to say, and I feel like I’m constantly failing. If I don’t score 25, if I’m not the one carrying the team every game, it’s like I’m invisible. Like I’m not good enough."

Azzi’s gaze softened even more as she took Paige’s hands in her own, her thumbs brushing over her skin with a soothing touch. "Paige, baby" she said gently, lifting Paige’s chin to meet her eyes. "You are always more than enough. I see everything you’re doing on the court—how you’re leading, how you’re supporting your teammates. You’re making an impact in ways that go beyond just points on the board. And I know how hard you’re working. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise."

The emotion in Paige’s chest bubbled up, the weight of Azzi’s words landing on her like a balm. She wanted to believe it, wanted to trust that the things her girlfriend said were true. But it was hard to let go of all the voices in her head. It was hard to not think Azzi was just being a supportive girlfriend. 

"I don’t know how to quiet my head," Paige said softly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "How do I keep going when it feels like nothing’s ever enough?"

Azzi pulled her into a gentle hug then, holding her close, her arms wrapping around Paige like a safe haven. "You don’t have to do it alone baby," Azzi murmured into her ear, her voice steady and reassuring. "I’m right here, every step of the way.”

Paige buried her face in Azzi’s shoulder, letting the tears fall freely now with no one else in the gym, no longer holding them back. She didn’t have it in here to be strong right now. She didn’t have it in her to be Uconn’s golden girl right now.

…

But then Uconn almost lost another game. Keyword being almost. 

The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in around Paige as the weight of everything pressed down on her. She had been here a few times before, locked in this dark space, trying to silence the voices in her head, but today felt different. It was harder to breathe, harder to push through.

The game had ended with a win. UConn had won by 11 points, but it wasn’t enough. It never was. Not when you were the star. Not when everyone expected perfection. Geno had praised her performance, sure, but there was always that hint of disappointment in his voice—more could have been done. More passes. More assists. Fewer contested shots because that won’t help in March.

Paige felt like she could feel the media’s eyes on her the entire game, their cameras flashing with judgment as they pounced on every flaw, no matter how small. The fans, too, had their say—complaining that she should have dropped 30 points on an unranked team, that she was being passive and deferring too much to other players. She knew they didn’t understand. They couldn’t see what was really happening on the court, the way she was trying to balance it all, the way she was doing everything she could to make her teammates shine, to get everyone involved.

But none of that mattered. Not to them.

Paige sat on the floor of the suite, back against the wall, feeling like she was shrinking into herself. She knew better than to get sucked into social media. Azzi had told her, warned her to delete it all, to stop looking at the constant stream of opinions from strangers. But here she was, scrolling through her feed, eyes filling with tears as she read each comment, each demand for more, as if she wasn’t already giving everything she had even if it was slowly killing her. 

She let out a shaky breath, biting down on her lip, trying to hold the tears at bay. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure kept building, the anxiety squeezing around her chest, making it harder to breathe. Paige put her phone down with trembling hands, the weight of it all sinking in, her head pounding with the noise in her mind.

Unable to stop herself, she softly banged the back of her head against the wall a few times, willing the thoughts to stop swirling. 

Why wasn’t it enough? Why couldn’t she just be allowed to have a good game, a solid performance, without the world tearing it apart? Why did every win feel like a loss when the criticism outweighed the praise? 

The tears finally came then, falling freely down her face as she sat there, trying to get a grip on her spiraling thoughts. The walls felt like they were slowly closing in, and she couldn’t stop the fear that was creeping into her chest. The fear that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be enough. That one day, the pressure would break her. That she would fall off the face of the Earth and everything for everyone else would keep spinning. 

She hated feeling weak, hated how powerless she felt in this moment. Not being in control. But she just tried to hold onto the thought of Azzi still in her mind, a small thread of comfort in the chaos. Azzi would understand. Azzi always did.

The room felt so empty without her. The silence was suffocating, the isolation almost too much to bear. Each breath Paige tried to take felt shallow, and the harder she focused on her breathing, the more it seemed to slip away. The more difficult it became. Panic was creeping in, like a hand pressing down on her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

She could physically feel all of it—the weight of the expectations, the constant pressure to be perfect. Each thought, each criticism, each word from the media felt like it was wrapping itself around her throat, making it harder to breathe.

She knew she should call Azzi, to try to force some words out so her girlfriend knew how much she needed her. But her phone lay discarded beside her and Paige couldn’t bring herself to look at it. She knew the messages, the comments, that she would unlock her phone to would only make it worse. Her head was spinning, and she couldn’t stop it. Every time she tried to focus her thoughts, to breathe deeply, to imagine Azzi the panic only tightened its grip.

Then the door clicked open, pulling her back from the edge for just a moment. Paige’s heart tried to catch up knowing who it was, but the breath still wouldn’t come.

Azzi froze when she saw Paige, sitting on the floor, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking. It only took a second for Azzi to drop her bag and throw her phone on the bed before rushing over. She didn’t hesitate, kneeling in front of Paige, taking her face in her hands. Paige couldn’t look at her, her breathing coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

"Paige," Azzi’s voice was gentle, but firm. "Look at me."

But Paige couldn’t. She was shaking, struggling, trapped in the chaos of her mind. Azzi saw it instantly—this wasn’t just sadness this time. This was another panic attack.

"Hey, hey, listen to me," Azzi said softly, her fingers brushing along Paige’s cheek, trying to steady her. "Breathe, baby. You’re okay."

Azzi’s own breaths were deep, slow, as she began to count, trying to guide Paige through the chaos. "In... one, two, three..." she counted, her voice low but steady. "Exhale... one, two, three..."

Paige’s chest heaved, her breaths sharp and ragged. She tried to focus on Azzi’s voice, but everything felt distant, blurry and out of reach.

"Come on, breathe with me," Azzi whispered, gently urging her. "In... one, two, three..." She let the air out slowly, counting as she did. "Exhale... one, two, three."

Paige’s body trembled, and Azzi could feel the weight of her distress, her panic. But she kept her voice calm, breaking each sentence into short, steady breaths.

"You’re safe," Azzi said, her thumb gently tracing over Paige’s skin. "I’m here. Breathe with me baby."

Paige’s breaths came in short, gasping bursts, still out of rhythm. She tried to follow Azzi’s lead, but each time she focused on her breath, it slipped further away.

"In... two, three," Azzi counted, her voice never wavering. "Exhale... two, three. You’re okay. I love you. I’m here."

Paige’s hands shook as she clutched at her chest, fighting for air. "I can’t... Azzi..." she gasped, her voice barely audible. She was drowning in the overwhelming pressure, feeling like she was finally losing the battle.

"You can," Azzi whispered, her own breath deepening as she counted. "In... one, two, three... Exhale... one, two, three." She leaned closer, her forehead gently resting against Paige’s. "Focus on me. You’re doing great. In, out. In, out."

The air in the room seemed to thicken, but slowly, Paige’s breathing began to soften. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. The frantic gasps slowed, her chest rising and falling with each breath, steadier now.

Azzi didn’t stop. She kept her hand on Paige’s face, gently coaxing her. "You’re so amazing, baby. You’re so strong. You’re so perfect."

Each breath they took together was a small step, and with every inhale, Paige felt the panic loosen its grip, just a little. Her hands stopped shaking as much, her body less rigid. Azzi’s voice was still steady, counting each breath, reassuring her.

"Good," Azzi said, her voice soft but filled with warmth. "That’s it. You’re okay now. Just breathe with me."

Paige’s breath was slower now, the panic starting to fade, replaced with exhaustion. She looked up at Azzi, her eyes filled with gratitude, but there was still a trace of vulnerability in her gaze.

Azzi smiled softly, her thumb brushing across Paige’s cheek. "I’m here," she whispered again, as though to remind Paige that she wasn’t alone. "I promise you’re never alone."

The storm hadn’t completely passed, but in that moment, with Azzi’s arms around her and her steady presence grounding her, Paige felt like she could breathe again.

After a few minutes of quiet, Azzi didn’t speak. She simply stood up and took Paige’s hand, gently guiding her towards the bathroom. Paige let herself be led, her body feeling light but exhausted, her mind still clouded and heavy. She felt empty, drained, but Azzi was there—her steady hand, her calm presence, like a lifeline in the chaos.

Azzi helped Paige undress. Paige didn’t protest, too worn out to resist, too overwhelmed to think about anything beyond the comfort Azzi was offering. When Azzi took off her own clothes and stepped into the shower with Paige, there was no rush, no urgency, just a quiet understanding between them as they sat in silence for a little bit.

Azzi began undoing Paige’s two braids softly as she kissed her girlfriends cheek or neck now and then. She then reached for the shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into her palm before gently massaging it into Paige’s wet hair. The warm water cascaded down over them, mingling with the steam, but all Paige could focus on was the soothing pressure of Azzi’s fingers against her scalp. Slowly, the tension in her body began to melt away. She leaned into Azzi, letting her eyes close as she rested her head on her shoulders, the simple act of being cared for grounding her even further.

Azzi didn’t say anything, her hands working methodically, rinsing the shampoo from Paige’s hair before applying conditioner. The quiet was comforting, the sound of water and Azzi’s soft hum in Paige’s ear were the only things filling the space.

When Azzi finished rinsing the conditioner out of her hair, Paige finally opened her eyes, meeting Azzi’s gaze. Azzi’s eyes softened, filled with a tenderness Paige couldn’t quite put into words. Her love for Paige was clear in the way she looked at her—gentle, unwavering, and so full of admiration.

Paige’s throat tightened, but she whispered, “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse, but full of gratitude.

Azzi smiled, her thumb lightly grazing Paige’s cheek as she leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. I told you, no matter what, I’m always in your corner and I’m going to help you get through this.” 

The words settled into Paige’s chest. She wasn’t alone. Azzi was there, always there.

Without thinking, Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her close. The water hit them both, but neither of them cared. They stood there, their bodies pressed together, holding each other in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

…

Steam lingered in the air as Paige stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a hoodie and sweats, her damp hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. The soft shuffle of Azzi’s movements drew her attention to the bed, where Azzi had just sat cross-legged, a comb in one hand and two hair ties in the other.

"Come here," Azzi said softly, patting the space in front of her.

Paige raised an eyebrow, but the gentle look in Azzi’s eyes pulled her forward. She settled on the floor, her back to Azzi, who immediately began threading her fingers through Paige’s damp hair.

For a while, the room was quiet except for the faint sound of the comb gliding through Paige’s hair. Azzi broke the silence, her voice gentle. "You wanna tell me what’s been on your mind tonight?"

Paige was silent, staring at her hands clasped in her lap. She bit her bottom lip, her mind racing as she tried to find the words. "I just... I don’t know what people want from me anymore," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi paused briefly, her hands stilling before resuming their steady rhythm. "What do you mean?"

"It’s like..." Paige hesitated, trying to find the words. "It’s not about basketball anymore. Every game, every move—it’s a story for someone else to tell. I can’t stop thinking about what people are gonna say after every game, and it’s exhausting."

Azzi hummed softly as she began parting Paige’s hair for the braids. "Do you think about that while you’re playing?"

Paige nodded, her voice small. "Sometimes. It’s like... the game isn’t just the game anymore. There’s so much pressure to live up to everyone’s expectations, and it makes it hard to just... enjoy it. To be in the moment."

Azzi gently tugged one section of hair, starting the first braid. "Paige, baby, you’ve been playing basketball your whole life. You didn’t fall in love with it because of what other people thought. You fell in love with it because it made you happy.”

"I know," Paige said, her voice wavering slightly. "But it’s hard not to care when there’s so many expectations. It’s like... no matter what I do, it’s never enough for me to just get one day of silence. And I just don’t want to let anyone down."

Azzi’s hands worked steadily as she braided, her voice calm but firm. "You can’t control what people think or say, no matter how hard you try so we gotta let that part go. But you can control remembering why you play. You don’t owe anyone anything, Paige—not the fans, not the critics, not even me baby. You play this game for you and only you. 

Paige was quiet for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweats. "It’s just hard to block it all out sometimes."

"I know it is," Azzi said softly, tying off the first braid and starting on the second. "But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. You’ve handled so much already, you’ve been through so much already and you’re still here, still fighting. That’s what matters."

Paige glanced over her shoulder, a small smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. "When did you get so wise?"

Azzi grinned, focused on finishing the second braid. "I’ve always been this wise. You’re just quiet enough for the first time to actually pay attention."

Paige chuckled, leaning into Azzi’s touch as she tied off the braid. Azzi ran her fingers over the finished work, smoothing down stray hairs before giving Paige’s shoulder a light squeeze.

"There," Azzi said, standing up and heading to the corner of the room to grab her basketball shoes. "Now, let’s go."

Paige blinked, looking at her with clear confusion on her face. "What? Go where?"

"The gym," Azzi said matter-of-factly, sliding her feet into some slides

Paige stared at her in disbelief. "Az, we just played an entire game and just got out of the shower. You’re crazy." 

Azzi smirked, tossing Paige’s shoes onto the floor beside her. "Come on, Superstar. I’m not asking."

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the carpet. "I picked a crazy person to be my girlfriend," she muttered, though a small grin tugged at her lips.

Azzi stepped closer, brushing a playful kiss against Paige’s temple. "Definitely, thought that was in the fine print though."

With a dramatic sigh, Paige sat up, slipping on her shoes and tying them lazily. "You’re lucky you’re cute," she grumbled as she followed Azzi out the door to her car. 

…

The gym was eerily quiet, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound as Paige and Azzi switched into their basketball shoes. Paige stood near the baseline, watching Azzi lace up her sneakers with an amused expression.

Azzi grabbed a basketball from the rack, dribbling it once before tossing it to Paige. "Check."

Paige caught the ball, raising an eyebrow at Azzi. "What are we doing?"

Azzi, already standing at the three point line, grinned. "We’re playing one-on-one."

Paige scoffed, spinning the ball lazily in her hands. "No, we’re not."

Azzi tilted her head, feigning innocence. "What, scared you’ll lose?"

Paige rolled her eyes, her competitive spirit sparking lightly at Azzi’s accusation. "First of all, I don’t lose one-on-one. Second, I definitely wouldn’t lose to my girlfriend."

Azzi smirked. "Then prove it. Play me. Otherwise I’ll just tell everyone you were scared."

Paige muttered something incoherent under her breath before lazily checking the ball back to Azzi.

Azzi immediately took advantage of Paige’s relaxed posture, going into a quick jumper from behind the arc. The ball arching beautifully through the air and swishing through the net.

"2-0," Azzi announced, her smirk widening.

Paige groaned, grabbing the ball. "Alright, that’s real cute."

When Paige checked the ball this time, she pressed a hand firmly against Azzi’s hip, cutting off her space. Azzi tried to drive left, but Paige stuck with her, their bodies brushing as they collided. Azzi pivoted, stepping back into a mid-range jumper that kissed the front of the rim before bouncing in.

"3-0," Azzi teased, grinning. "You’re looking a little slow tonight, P. You tired?"

"Yeah?" Paige’s voice dripped with mock sweetness as she checked the ball again. Azzi tried to hit another step back but it bounded off the rim. 

They checked the ball and Paige jab-stepped to her left, forcing Azzi to shift her weight, then crossed over and exploded to the basket with a quick step. Azzi stayed close, but Paige used her body to shield the ball, finishing with a layup off the glass. 

"3-1," Paige said, flashing a smug grin.

Azzi grabbed the ball, her competitive spirit ignited even though this was supposed to be about Paige. As they continued to play, their movements grew sharper and more physical. Paige backed Azzi down on one possession, bumping her with her shoulder before spinning for a fadeaway jumper. Azzi countered by cutting through the lane with a quick first step, using her speed to slip past Paige for an easy floater.

The teasing never stopped.

"Didn’t know I signed up for wrestling practice," Azzi quipped after Paige body-checked her on a drive.

"Yeah yeah," Paige shot back. "You’re not getting past me again."

Azzi grinned. "Oh, I’m passing you right now." She immediately drove left, brushing past Paige’s hip as she hooked her slightly and finishing with a reverse layup that left Paige shaking her head.

The game became more intense with each possession. Azzi swatted one of Paige’s layup attempts, the ball flying out of bounds. Paige groaned.

"You’ve never done that in your life" Paige said, narrowing her eyes as she retrieved the ball.

"First time for everything," Azzi replied, standing tall and grinning.

Paige responded by hitting a deep three-pointer, holding her follow-through for much longer than necessary as the ball sailed through the hoop. "9-8," Paige said, her smirk confident.

On the next possession, she used a quick hesitation move to fake Azzi out of position, draining another jumper.

As the score climbed, so did the tension. The gym felt warmer, their breaths coming faster, their earlier shower completely undone by the sweat dripping down their faces. Every drive and every block brought them closer, their bodies brushing and colliding in ways that blurred the lines between competition and something more.

At one point, Azzi’s hand lingered on Paige’s waist as she pivoted for a shot, and Paige didn’t pull away. Instead, she smirked, leaning in slightly as she jab-stepped.

"You getting distracted on me?" Paige teased, her voice low.

" Nope," Azzi fired back, though her flushed cheeks suggested otherwise.

Eventually they were tied at 17, both breathing heavily as they sized each other up. Paige had the ball tucked against her hip, her gaze locked on Azzi.

"What do I get when I win?" Paige asked, her tone playful but laced with a hint of something more.

Azzi’s eyes narrowed, her lips curving into a smile. "You’re not going to win."

Paige chuckled, her confidence unshaken. "Guess we’ll see."

She dribbled slowly, luring Azzi to sleep on defense before hitting her with a fast combo move before she drove hard to the basket, finishing with a finger roll that danced around the rim before dropping in.

"18-17," Paige said, smirking as she checked the ball. "Told you, I don’t lose."

It was Azzi’s ball again and once she caught the ball back from Paige, she stepped back, shooting a quick three-pointer that hit nothing but the bottom of the net.

"19-18," Azzi said, mimicking Paige’s earlier tone. She smirked, stepping closer. "What am I getting when I win?"

Paige grinned, walking up to Azzi until they were nearly nose to nose. “A little something to remind you how giving I can be.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing. "You’re full of it."

The game continued, both of them refusing to give an inch to the other but finally Paige ended it with a three that rattled in after she hit Azzi with a hesi pullup. 

"That’s game," Paige said, her voice triumphant as she grabbed her water bottle.

Azzi was smiling as she sipped from her own bottle, her grin unusually big. Paige noticed and raised an eyebrow. "You do know you just lost, right?"

Azzi kept smiling, stepping closer until they were chest to chest. "Yeah," she said softly. "But you weren’t thinking about anything else besides this game, were you?"

Paige blinked, her grin softening as realization hit her. For the first time in a while, she hadn’t been consumed by the weight of everyone’s expectations and opinions of how she was playing. She’d just been... playing.

"Huh," Paige said, her voice quieter. "I guess not."

Azzi smirked, leaning in close, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "See? I told you I’d help."

Paige leaned in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s, but before she could close the gap, Azzi stepped back with a mischievous grin.

"Nah," Azzi said, grabbing her water bottle and bag. "I’m a sore loser. You don’t get a kiss after beating me."

Paige laughed. "The winner’s supposed to get something."

Azzi tilted her head, her voice dipping into a sultry tone. "Oh? Is that what you want from me baby?"

Paige nodded, her smile growing as she stepped closer, but Azzi turned on her heel, heading for the door.

"You gotta work for it," Azzi called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with playful challenge as she walked away.

Paige stood there, dumbfounded, watching her girlfriend’s retreating figure. Despite everything she’d been feeling earlier, all the negativity and doubt, Azzi had completely unraveled it and left nothing but the Paige who loved to play basketball more than anything.

"Wait!" Paige called after her, grinning. "So, I’m really not getting any tonight?"

Azzi turned, walking backward as her smirk deepened. "Maybe," she teased, her eyes gleaming. "But like I said you gotta work for it P."

Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she jogged after her, a lightness settling in her chest. She couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face, her eyes fixed on Azzi.

"Thank the gods," Paige muttered under her breath, her voice laced with a mix of humor and adoration, "and every single heaven above for Azzi Fudd."

The thought made her laugh softly to herself as she caught up, ready to follow wherever Azzi led her next.

[osakanone]

I have an unhealthy relationship with the internet, and if you vibe with this so do you.

I've been using the internet since around 1994. If I were to use the metaphor of a relationship, I would say that right now my poly partner who's been one of the stars in the night's sky of my life since before I learned to speak English who I've been dating since my school days is trapped in a cycle of weird addiction and is doing lots of very unhealthy things. While under the influences, they are saying things they don't actually believe which hurt me deeply on a semi-regular basis. The problem is when we try to spend time together, the shitty side of her always comes out, and so even something like watching a movie together or socializing, or laughing at funny pictures is very difficult because she's asking deeply uncomfortable questions.

They keep trying to shape my views to impress her parents and I've realized her parents are using her to keep track of me.

I'm often deeply worried they're just going to enter my home one day without asking me. A lot of this I've realized is largely down to the fact her mother, Alohanet died in 1992 and her father, Arpanet and his father the US Department of Defence have been infiltrated by some of the worst people on Earth who are doing terrible things and have been doing terrible things since before I was born. Likewise, Internet has been hanging out with some really fucked up people and doing some really weird stuff for money (I don't mean engaging in arts, like sex or posting or trying to help out by shifting some money around to help ends meet or helping me buy medication, I mean genuinely messed up stuff that's deeply scary and hateful) and ever since they've started treating me like one of their customers instead of their partner.

I've many times tried couples therapy, and I've been contemplating a divorce for nearly a decade now but I'm so hopelessly co-dependant that I legitimately don't know what to do.

She doesn't speak clearly to me anymore and when I ask her serious questions she gives me nonsense answers and charms her way out of actually telling me what I want to know. Internet also due to these people has chosen to infiltrate and invade my every waking moment whenever possible, either via their presence or indirectly by influencing all of my friends and loved ones in ways I cannot keep track of or even fully comprehend. In this sense, its a bit like having a very unhealthy relationship with an emergent mythological goddess, but she's also a terrible person. Only now that she's started to reveal her true nature do I comprehend how awful she was the entire time -- and that the odds of me escaping this relationship diminish exponentially as she has her eyes set on world domination and thus far she's winning.

On one hand, I don't know how to escape my economically induced skinnerbox.

On the bright side, the friend-group she connected me to is pretty banging.

I just wish I could have it without her being involved, since I've given up hope of her ever becoming a better person. She's not coming back, and I think I'm grieving that.

Reading this back feels really painful, and it makes me want to reconsider some of my life choices.

SomethingAwful.com was 100% right:

The internet makes you stupid.

I feel so stupid right now and have no idea what to do.

Can we like, talk about this? I really want to start a conversation, to know how other people deal with these kinds of feelings.

[azen13]

I loved your recent Dan Heng posting so so much!!! I’m not the original requester however

Reading it made my mind wander into how Dan Heng would react to a darling who is just so smitten with him (even his more awkward habits) that they recognize his yandere behavior and tease him about it while also kind of playing into it?

My mind keeps running through ideas of a darling that shows up to hang out with him all the time and is just over the moon when he hovers around them in a possessive manner…

Plus I think darling might also be just a teeny tiny bit obsessed with Dan Heng as well (I know I am 🤭)

I’m cutting my ramblings off here because I could go on all day about the ideas this glorious man springs into my brain but I don’t wanna subject you to them all hehe

— Dan Heng Anon

CW: Yandere Themes, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Cuddling, Sleeping Together, Kissing

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Anon, I genuinely love this idea so much! I can definitely see the vibe. As I said in my other post about Dan Heng, I think he's relatively subtle in terms of how he expresses his possessive tendencies: a hand on your shoulder; a command clothed as a suggestion; a redirection of your attention back on him.

But when you start feeding into his behavior?

The first thing that happens to him is that he practically short-circuits. You show up to his room one night, pillow and blanket in hand, face dim with fatigue but eyes shining with mischief. Your room is too warm, you complain. He hasn't even processed what you've said before you slip through the doorway and plop your bedding near his, fluffing up your pillow and arranging your space how you like it.

You fall asleep almost instantly; the next morning, you proclaim you slept better on the hard flooring of Dan Heng's room than any night in your soft bed.

Dan Heng stays up the whole night, studying your face like an astronomer, trying to understand the way you seem to orbit around him. Maybe the forces of attraction have finally gone in his favor, drawing you close to him.

As the days pass, he begins to reciprocate your signals. When the Astral Express splits up on missions, he ensures you're always with him, regardless of how March and the Trailblazer pout. He'll send them a flat, unimpressed stare, your hand and his tightly intertwined. Himeko and Welt notice, but don't say anything. They underestimate Dan Heng's love, the true gravity of the situation is much stronger than they perceive it to be.

In public, Dan Heng manages to keep it together, though you make it difficult with how you cling to his side. He can't help but want to be protective of you when there are strangers sidling next to you. Any chance he can get, he makes sure he's walking closer to the center of the road.

In the privacy of his room, though, he becomes much more clingy. Night after night you arrive at his door and make yourself at home on the floor, and each night, you sleep a little closer to him. Soon enough, your hand is squeezing him as you dream; then his arm is looped around your shoulder; two pairs of legs tangled together beneath mismatched bedsheets; his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the faintest traces of perfume.

Then you don't show up one night.

Dan Heng spends hours waiting. He's normally not very fidgety, but tonight his foot taps a frantic tempo against the floor, eyes glued to the door.

Eventually, he gets up and heads to your room. The lights are dim, but he can see a sly smile playing on your lips like Cupid readying another arrow to fire at his heart. You've done it on purpose, and it both amuses and annoys him.

With a huff, he walks over to your bed and hoists you up into his arms. You make no move to get out of his grip, eyes sparkling playfully; you're just as entranced with him as he is with you, two stars orbiting each other.

Unceremoniously, he plops you down on his makeshift bed in the data bank, settling beside you. His arms loop around your torso, pulling you close. "I don't appreciate your prank," he grumbles.

You can't help but laugh. "I'm sure you don't." It's amusing to see Dan Heng pouting. His expression is relatively neutral, but you can see sulkiness in his eyes, feel how he squeezes you a little tighter than most nights.

"I want you to stay with me."

You smile, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I will."

[ghouldump]

Fangirl | Lestat De Lioncourt x Reader

ෆ meeting the vampire rockstar goes surprisingly well

here is something short, while waiting on the other posts coming soon :) if this post isn't up around 7/26 its because i hated the fic so much, i went ahead and deleted it

“How does my hair look?” You kept looking into your phone camera, touching your makeup.

“It looks good, what about my outfit?” Cara, your friend, asked.

“You both look fine, I wish you would come on,” her brother, Caleb groaned.

“Seriously, all of this over some guy who claims he’s a vampire,” her boyfriend, Jason, grumbled, out of jealousy.

“You never know, he might be legit, you know there was a book that came out recently-

“Don’t start with your vampire conspiracies, Y/n,” Jason said, rudely, while Caleb snickered.

“Ignore him, even if he’s pretending, he’s sexy, so it doesn’t matter,” Cara laughed, taking your hand as you both entered the stadium.

Sighing, you tried to focus on the concert, and not let Jason’s words get to you. You could be a little sensitive and his words hit a nerve. Cara was the one who introduced Lestat’s music to you, professing he was her celebrity crush. Since then, you couldn’t deny the overwhelming interest you held for him and his outlandish claim that he was a vampire.

When she brought up the concert, you immediately began saving money, not only for the best seats but for a backstage pass. You were ecstatic, and you couldn’t let someone like Jason of all people ruin your night before it started.

Suddenly, the lights began to dim, the crowd began cheering, he was coming. As the music started, he appeared, and everyone screamed wildly. You could hardly move, frozen, mesmerized by his presence. The hair, face, body, skin, he seemed like the embodiment of perfection. Just as his eyes landed on you, you felt like you could melt, your face burning in excitement.

“I think he just looked at me,” Cara told you.

Not saying a word, you kept your eyes on him, watching as he slightly smirked, grabbing the microphone.

“He kept looking at me,” Cara said as you both made your way backstage. Neither Caleb nor Jason were willing to pay the extra money, leaving to wait in the car for the two of you.

"I think he looked at me too," you said, as she frowned, before scoffing.

“I would’ve noticed, he was basically singing to me,” she cheered, as you both approached the line.

Everyone stood, waiting for their autograph or picture, giving Lestat all of their praises, until it was finally your turn.

“Oh my god, could you sign this?” Cara asked as you made eye contact with Lestat. His gaze was intense, making you look at the floor.

Quickly signing Cara’s album, he hadn’t acknowledged her once, already reaching for your hand.

“Hi, I didn’t bring anything, you can sign my arm,” you laughed, as he quickly wrote his signature.

“Thank you, are you actually a vampire?” You asked. Cara stood awkwardly next to you, waiting for you.

“Y/n, why would you ask him-

“I have no reason to lie, Y/n, would you like proof?” He asked, his eyes examining your outfit in approval.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Why don’t you wait for me?” He pointed towards his dressing room.

“You can’t stay, Caleb and Jason are waiting for us,” Cara told you.

“I will make sure you are home before sunrise, is that alright, ma chèrie?” He asked you, tilting his head.

Nodding, you began to walk into the room, jumping as Cara stumped her feet.

“It’s not fair, I knew your music first,” she told him.

“And I appreciate your support, but I’m afraid you are holding up the line,” he told her, chuckling as she stormed off.

Sitting near the vanity, you received all kinds of messages from Cara. You were tempted to leave, hurt by all the mean things she said, because you chose to stay. You didn’t understand why she was so angry, she had a boyfriend, and you expressed your interest in Lestat as well.

“She’s been jealous of you all along, why do you think she allows her boyfriend to talk to you so rudely?” Lestat asked, rhetorically, taking off the shirt, as soon as he stepped into the room.

“She’s just…a really big fan of yours,” you cleared your throat as he approached.

“Are you a fan?” He asked, leaning on the table in front of you.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Then how she feels is truly irrelevant,” he chuckled.

“We will be leaving shortly,” he continued, changing into a button-down shirt.

Walking to the opulent convertible, you kept your head down. Fans and Paparazzi all called out his name, yet still, they kept a clear path for him, almost afraid of what would happen, blocking his way. He kept a slight smirk on his face, giving them only enough of his attention that would leave them begging for more.

Getting into the car, he blew them a singular kiss before speeding off. As reckless as he seemed, he was a great driver, and patient, listening to the classical music that played lowly on the radio. Finally, he parked in front of a large house.

“T-this is your home?”

“No, just temporarily, my house is in New Orleans,” he said, nonchalantly, getting out of the car, as you hurriedly followed behind him.

Entering the large house, your eyes wandered up the walls, to the ceiling, admiring the details. Looking back down, you realize that Lestat wasn't walking anymore, staring at you.

“What?” you asked, nervously.

“You've been around that wretched excuse of a friend for too long, you have no reason to be timid, you are a piece of art,” he complimented.

The trait reminded him too much of a certain someone, accepting poor treatment, and constantly being undermined and disrespected. You deserved better, much like his Louis did, and for that he liked you a bit more, perhaps you could be around much longer than he originally planned.

“Thank you,” you said, gulping as he circled around you.

Unconsciously, you backed up, moving away from him, until you bumped into the sofa. As you nearly fell backward, he caught you. Reaching for your jaw, he lifted your head, your eyes meeting his, and instantly, he began his hypnotic voice.

“You don’t have to be shy around me, nervous, anxious, you’re allowed to be as carefree as your mortal heart desires,” he said, his thumb brushing against your lips.

“Okay,” you nodded, before snapping out of the trance.

“Come, ma chèrie, the night is still young,” he told you, holding out his hand. Biting back your smile, you accepted his hand, giggling as he swiftly picked you up, carrying you to the master bedroom.

“Why didn’t you stick with opera?” You asked Lestat, you both lay in his bed, conversing for the last two hours.

“I’m a man of many talents,” he smirked.

“Like pretending to be a vampire,” you stood on your knees, before he pulled you into his lap. Baring his teeth, you gasped for a moment, realizing the fangs were real.

“As stated before, I have no reason to lie, I have been a vampire for over two centuries”

“You’re legit,” you smiled excitedly, as you reached for his teeth, poking the fang.

“You’re more excited than I imagined”

“I hoped you were, that it wasn’t a costume,” you confessed to him.

“To fulfill your fantasies? I see what you think of happening, of doing. For your desires to be made manifest, show me what you want, what your heart calls out to me for,” he told you, kissing your wrist, as you climbed out of the bed.

Undoing your top, as soon as it fell to the floor, Lestat was in front of you. His glass-like nails trailed across your stomach, as he circled you. Pulling you into his embrace, he took in your scent. Goosebumps covered your arms, as you stood pressed against his cold chest.

His hands brushed against your neck, before moving to your breast, cupping them. Closing your eyes, you moaned, as his fangs sank into your neck. The sensation of your blood draining, mixed with the massaging from his hands, the exchange felt better than sex.

Pulling away, you stared into his eyes, your blood all over his mouth. Grabbing your head, he hungrily kissed your lips, picking you up, and carrying you to bed. Stripping the remainder of your clothes, Lestat kissed you as if he'd never been kissed.

“Am I going to die?” you asked, catching his attention.

“All mortals die,” he reminded you, before he went back to kissing your neck, smirking as you moaned.

“Will you turn me?” you asked.

“Not tonight, ma chérie,” he laughed, pulling the blanket over the two of your bodies.

Lestat’s ego was stroked, hearing how much you were turned on by your blood being drunk. So much that he was willing to give you the real thing to compare it to since you thought it was so much better than sex. He wouldn't kill you, not like he had done the others. Your essence was too familiar, and he could already see himself growing attached in the future. He liked you and intended to see you again.

“I hope you sleep well,” you told him, as you went to get out of the car.

“I will and I plan to see you soon, ma chérie,” he told you, watching as you got out of the car, tiredly walking to your front door. The amount of times and positions you had previously experienced didn't even seem humanly possible, leaving you feeling like an entirely new person.

Just as you shut the front door, your phone began ringing. Seeing Cara’s contact, you felt visibly agitated, rolling your eyes before accepting her call.

“Why weren't you answering the phone?” she asked immediately.

“I left it in his car, on accident”

“So, how did it go?” she asked. Thinking of Lestat’s words, you knew better than to share details, when she didn't even want you to go in the first place.

“I don't kiss and tell”

[tinygrove]

Decent Man Pt. 2

The first part

Pairing: Cregan Stark/fem!reader

A/N: This ones a little longer than the last one. Maybe a little more suggestive but nothing wild just kissing. Not sure if I should make another part?

Summary: The follow up to the original post. You continue to navigate your rushed and arranged marriage to the Lord of Winterfell, but he is much more earnest than you believed.

As Cregan had mentioned, there was hardly any courting to begin with. It seemed the only thing you learned about him was his parentage and more information on his family line than you knew what to do with. Perhaps you dwelled on the matter for too long, the last bit of light was gone from the horizon and the dim candlelight could not do much for you. Sleep would surely be hard to find as a result of your worrying, or maybe you were just homesick. Perhaps you could try and fetch the maester for a draught once you've changed.

Reaching behind you, you unlace the rest of your gown. It’s an ivory silk embroidered with the details of your house sigil. You try to free yourself of your corset but a string has been caught on some invisible clasp. 

“I forgot to mention,” Cregan falters for a moment as he realizes his intrusion, he seems like he might avert his gaze but his eyes never drift from you. Of course they stay firmly fixed above your neckline. “I am sorry, I did not realize you were…” What you have on under your gown is more revealing but you are still clothed, you feel no shame. Besides, if your lord husband cannot see you in only this who can? Your hair has become slightly unkempt as well, no longer so tidy and pinned but loose and deviating from its original style. You swear at one point you could see Cregan’s mouth slightly agape but you don’t dare to comment on it. 

“It’s alright, we are wed now are we not? And, I cannot seem to free myself from this corset.” You’re not sure where all this sudden bravery has come from but if you are going to be married to the fiercest man in the North you should wield it more often. Cregan composes himself with impressive swiftness and makes his way behind you. Just before reaching out to touch you he stops himself as if he’s been caught in the act. 

“Shall I fetch one of the ladies in your service to assist you?” He’s so close that you can feel his warm breath on the side of your neck and by then you’ve made up your mind. 

“No, it's fine, I wouldn’t want to interrupt them. Do you think you could,” Before you can finish your sentence you feel the tips of his fingers graze your back through the fabric as he carefully unlaces you. It seems as if his hands have left invisible indentations on your skin, long after he’s pulled away you feel his touch. “Thank you.” 

He turns away from you now, heading towards the wardrobe where a slim section has been filled with what little clothes you brought with you. He picks out a thicker cloak you’ve brought, not nearly warm enough to brave the worst of the northern weather but good enough to sleep in. 

“Will this do my lady? I could lend you one of mine own as well if you do not mind.” He must’ve noticed the goosebumps rising on your skin. Unbeknownst to your husband it was from more than just the cold.

“I would like that, but I think first I must admit; I've been far too hasty to judge. You, by all accounts seem to be a truly decent man and I know we still do not know each other well but,” You need to take a deep breath to continue as heat rushes to your face. “Perhaps we might simply share the bed, as any couple would? That would surely keep the cold at bay.” Evidently your husband has become flustered as well, a red flush creeps up his neck and face. Barely visible to you but all the more endearing in the dim light. 

“Are you sure, we need not make haste, my lady. I know this marriage was somewhat rushed, for the both of us and there is no need to prove anything to me.” It was not lost on you that this marriage was advantageous, for more reasons than one. Arranged marriage was not something you looked forward to. As naive as it may be, you always hoped to marry someone you’d already come to love. Maybe some gallant knight or Lord, handsome and strong. But what's more likely to last is a marriage built on trust rather than infatuation. You have all your life to love your lord husband, tonight you can trust him.

“Yes I know. I'm grateful for the patience you've shown me but I think it is no longer necessary. You're an honorable man, I can see that plainly now, I should've seen it from leagues away. I'm sure.” You take his hands in yours, as he once did and the blush on his face only becomes stronger. You lead him to the bed and urge him to sit, he leaves space between his legs for you to stand. All the nerves have dissipated by now, no room for hesitation or second thoughts. You place an almost feather light kiss on his cheek. “One for your kindness,” You kiss his other cheek as well, much more earnestly this time. “And another for your generosity.” 

His eyes cannot seem to part from yours now, ardent and serious. “There are many qualities I’d like to praise you for as well but I am not sure there are enough hours in the night.” He cups your face in his hands and kisses you, firm but passionate. His lips, like the rest of him are warm and all encompassing, you couldn’t pull away if you wanted to. You have to will yourself not to chase them when he parts from you. It’s nothing like the kiss you shared during the wedding, quick and chaste. “That was for your compassion.” A large thumb swipes against your cheek and you can’t help but lean into it. “Shall I give you another for your loyalty?” 

“Please.” This one lasts much longer, his hands have drifted to your waist now and your hands rest on broad shoulders. His lips press into yours strongly but he doesn’t demand anything of you. Even as he runs his tongue over your kiss-swollen lips he’s considerate. When you separate it’s with a contented hum and an understanding that if neither of you sleep now you never will. “Perhaps we should retire?” You suggest more than ask, snuffing out the candle by your bedside. 

“Yes, I think that would be best.” Before you can fully remove yourself from his grasp he holds onto the thin fabric of your shift to keep you still. In nothing but moonlight the only part of him you can see is the shine of gray eyes. 

“We were made one by this union, whether it was what either of us longed for marriage is our duty now. However there is no other woman I’d wish to be bound to in sight of the Gods. You are mine now, and I am yours.”

[leahrintarou]

✩₊˚.⋆ THREE MINUTES ! - rindou haitani / 10.08 / kinktober

CW: public "sex", fingering, teasing, they're best friends, female anatomy, she/her used, one-sided pleasure, that's all lol

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note: welcome to the fifth post of my kinktober series! i hope you enjoy. leave a like or reblog to show support. (updates this week might be off or posted on a diff day since i'll be traveling somewhere with family. if not posted on the designated day, it will be posted eventually when i get back home.)

it took a lot of pleading, a lot of pouting, and quite a bit of persuasion for y/n to finally get rindou to agree to see a horror movie with her. he’d been reluctant, as always, keeping his usual stoic expression as she begged, a faint sigh escaping him after she tugged at his sleeve one too many times.

“alright, fine,” he finally said, rolling his eyes with a small, barely-there smile. “but you’re paying for the popcorn.”

y/n’s face lit up instantly, and she practically bounced in excitement. “deal! you won’t regret it, i promise!”

now, sitting side by side in the dim theater, rindou was starting to question his decision. as soon as the movie began, he leaned back in his seat, trying to relax as the ominous music set the tone. y/n was fully immersed, her eyes wide as she clutched his arm during each jump scare, gasping and gripping his hand tighter with every loud noise and flickering shadow on the screen.

rindou, on the other hand, sat unbothered, his expression unfazed by the attempts to frighten him. he shot her a sidelong glance, noting the way she reacted to the tension, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. she was so easily scared, and he found it endearing, though he’d never say so.

about halfway through, he noticed something different. y/n’s grip had loosened, and her eyes, while still on the screen, had a faraway look in them. she seemed to be shifting in her seat, her legs rubbing together subtly, her face flushed in a way that had nothing to do with the horror unfolding onscreen.

rindou quirked an eyebrow, leaning over to whisper, “something more interesting than the movie going on?”

y/n’s head snapped toward him, caught off guard, and she felt a deep wave of embarrassment. “what? no, i was just... i’m watching, i swear.”

he gave her a knowing look, one that made her squirm under his gaze. “right. because from where i’m sitting, it looks like you’re a little too distracted to be paying attention to what’s going on,” he murmured, his voice low, a faint smirk ghosting across his face. “did you really just waste our money on tickets just to get yourself all worked up over nothing?”

she huffed, crossing her arms in defense. “it’s not my fault! the movie got kind of... you know, intense, and you’re here, and...” her voice trailed off, and she glanced away, clearly embarrassed.

rindou chuckled softly, his usual calm demeanor breaking just enough for her to catch it. “oh, i see. so, you dragged me out here, begged me to watch this horror movie, and now you’re not even paying attention. that’s what i’m hearing.”

y/n pouted, tugging on his arm. “rindou, come on. i can’t help it...”

he leaned closer, his face only inches from hers, his voice a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. “can’t help it, huh?” he murmured, his tone teasing. “guess i’ll have to find a way to keep you entertained, since the movie isn’t cutting it.”

her eyes widened as he settled back in his seat, his hand casually resting on her thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles over her skin. she shot him a look, torn between shock and excitement, but he just kept that same indifferent expression, his gaze focused forward as if nothing unusual was happening.

“rindou,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the movie’s background noise. “people are around...”

he raised an eyebrow, not bothering to look at her, his thumb continuing its slow, deliberate movement. “you’re the one who couldn’t keep it together,” he said with a smirk. “don’t blame me for distracting you when you’re the one getting ideas.”

y/n’s heart raced, the weight of their friendship hanging heavy in the silence between them. she knew they were toeing a line, crossing into something unspoken and uncertain, yet she didn’t pull away. instead, she found herself leaning into his touch, the thrill of it mixing with a quiet fear that they couldn’t just come back from this.

she looked up at him, a small, hesitant smile tugging at her lips. “you know we probably shouldn’t...”

“probably,” he murmured, his voice steady, but his hand never moved. he glanced down at her, his usual calm exterior cracking just enough for her to see something else behind it—a question, a hesitation that matched her own. “but we’re already here, aren’t we?”

they held each other’s gaze, neither of them willing to break the moment, knowing they were treading dangerous ground. but in the dim glow of the theater, with his hand on her thigh and her fingers inching toward his, it felt like a risk they were both willing to take, consequences be damned.

"if you don’t want this, tell me now."

y/n remained quiet and rindou glanced at her, seeing that her gaze was already on him. she reached for his hand, her impatience making her guide him up her thigh a bit more. rindou's eyes widened immediately when we wasn't met with any sort of fabric at all, but the immediate warmth of her sex.

"what the hell, n/n?" he questioned, not moving his hand, but the flustered expression on his face said enough. a shiver coursed through her body as he pressed his digits against her. "please don't question it." she sighed trying to keep her voice low.

"was this your plan this whole time?" he asked and she let out an embarassed groan and rindou felt some pity at that. they'd been bestfriend's since forever and despite his attitude, rindou would drop anything in a second if y/n ever asked. she always came first in every situation, and she knew that. "so you didn't wanna watch this movie afterall?"

she looked at him, nodding her head. "i did, but..." she trailed off. "but you're too focused on this, huh?" just then, his fingers used her slick to slip his middle digit into her sex. she bit down on her inner cheek and her legs tightened around his hand. "what got you all worked up?"

y/n remained silent, avoiding the question. this piqued rindou's interest, making him slide his digits in deeper. y/n let out a shaky breath, trying to not bring attention to themselves, but the more rindou pleasured her, the more she squirmed in her seat. "are you dodging the question, y/n? if you are, I'll stop."

"no, no. don't stop." she pled, looking at rindou with glazed eyes. "then tell me. i have a feeling i know what it is." he shifted himself in his seat. trying to ignore his current situation as well. he thanked the dark lightning in the theater that caused her to not see his growing erection. "i was just wondering how you would feel inside me." she managed to get out.

"it's not very nice to have those kinds of thoughts about your bestfriend, y/n."

"can't help-" she was cut off when his in and out motions quickened. y/n lifted her lips to lean back a bit to slouch in the seat. this newfound position allowed rindou to reach deeper, caressing that sensetive spot that would drive her insane. "you're not being as discreet as you probably should, n/n." a smile appeard on his lips.

"so hurry up." she managed to glare at him and rindou rolled his eyes, focusing back on the movie in front of them. his fingers held no mercy on y/n despite the occasional whimpers that she would try to hide in her palm, the fidgeting of her legs closing around him, and the way her hand gripped his wrist with all the strength in her body. "quicker you come, the quicker you can be quiet." he muttered, tone sounding unbothered.

"i couldn’t care less if anyone figured out what we were doing, but that's all you're worried about, huh, y/n?" he taunted. "too focused on them to come?"

he reached over to y/n, using his freehand to turn her head to him. "you have three minutes. if you can't come before then, I'm stopping."

"what the fuck, rindou?" she shot him a harsh glare and a smile barely made it way to his lips but it was filled with anything but purity. he was the biggest tease ever and y/n knew this but hated that fact that she put it past him especially in situations like these. "come on, n/n. your time is wasting."

he sped his fingers up and y/n held his wrist steady before she grinded down onto his digits. he caressed that pleasure-filled spot once again and she shut her eyes, trying to turn off the rest of her senses.

she heard rindou speaking, but it all sounded muffled to her. if she listened to him, it'll feel all too real and that would throw her in for a loop all over again. his digits felt just right and she thought that if she focused on them enough, she could reach her high in no time.

that was proven to be true when she noticed that he sped up his motions even more, helping her as she continued to ride them, not caring about the other eyes around her. "rindou." she muttered through a whisper. she heard him hum, but she couldn't trust herself to speak at the moment.

instead, she tightly held onto his wrist as she balanced on that familiar edge of pure bliss. "come, n/n." that was all ot took for her to tip over. she tightened her already shut eyes, hoping that she wasn't being too loud. her sounds of pleasure came out as a moan, but it was muffled by a hand that wasn't her own. she felt the cool touch of metal agaisnt her lip and she realized it was from a ring that rindou always wore on his right hand.

"two minutes?" he smiled, watching as she carefully opened her eyes, her chest heaving with a fast pace. "i'm never doing this with you again." she muttered, looking around for a gaze that met her own.

"of course not. that would be crossing the line, right?"

y/n didn’t miss the pure sarcasm in his tone and she hated how she only clenched around his fingers once more so no matter what she would say next, he knew what she felt deep down.

♤ likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

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[novaursa]

Hi Novaursa! I just saw that you're taking request. Your writing is beyond awesome and I'm wondering if I can make a request with Gwayne Hightower and Female Reader? The two decided to marry in secret when the reader's parents arrange her for another man? Bonus point if they get to have a short happy marriage before Gwayne leaves for King's Landing (and we know what awaits him there T-T)?

I might have mentioned it before but I love your writing! ^^

A Rose in Oldtown

- Summary: Gwayne steals a rose and allows it to grow strong in Oldtown.

- Paring: tyrell!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- A/N: I had something similar laying around on my hard drive. It was not for tyrell!reader, but I've used its bones for structure and it needed pretty little rewriting. This is why this is posted so soon. And yeah, I'm manic sometimes when it comes to writing. When I have an idea I can't sleep until it's done. Or do anything else basically. If I don't respond to your ask after a few days, then I'm probably starting from scratch. @justdillydally I hope you enjoy this as you did my other works. ❤️

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 3 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

You stand at the front of the Sept, dressed in the finest gown Highgarden could offer—an emerald green masterpiece embroidered with golden roses, the petals dusted with delicate pearls that shimmer in the dim candlelight. The sleeves are long and sheer, allowing glimpses of your skin beneath, while the bodice is cinched tightly, enhancing every curve. The skirt flows like a river of green silk, the fabric whispering with every breath you take. A golden rose sits in your hair, nestled among the intricate braids that frame your face. It’s a gown fit for a queen, but today it feels more like a cage.

The air is thick with anticipation, the weight of tradition pressing down on your chest. House Lannister’s colors dominate the sept, crimson banners emblazoned with golden lions hanging from every pillar. They seem to mock you, roaring silently, a reminder of the fate being forced upon you. Your father stands beside you, his expression unreadable, yet you can feel the iron grip of his expectations.

“Remember your duty,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding.

But duty is the last thing on your mind. Your heart is hammering, but not for the man who waits for you at the altar. Jason Lannister stands there with a smug smile, eyes gleaming like a cat eyeing prey. You should feel fear—discomfort, even—but all you feel is anger and longing. 

Your gaze drifts past him, searching the shadows of the crowded sept for a pair of familiar gray eyes. You know Gwayne is near, can sense him even if you can’t yet see him. He promised you. He promised he’d come.

The sept doors creak open, and a gust of wind rushes in, carrying the salty tang of the nearby sea. For a heartbeat, the ceremony halts, heads turning toward the disturbance. There, at the threshold, stands Gwayne Hightower, clad in green leather riding armor, a stark contrast to the opulence around him. His hair is tousled from the wind, a few unruly strands falling into those piercing eyes that hold yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

“Are you truly going to allow this travesty to unfold?” His voice echoes through the sept, defiant and laced with a challenge. The guests murmur in shock, eyes wide as they shift between the Lannisters and Hightower.

“Gwayne,” you breathe, relief and something wilder, more reckless, surging in your chest.

Your father bristles, stepping forward as if to block the path between you and Gwayne. “You have no place here, Hightower! You disgrace your house with this insolence!”

But Gwayne’s gaze never wavers from you. There’s a promise in his eyes, a question. And deep down, you already know your answer.

“Disgrace?” Gwayne laughs, sharp and mocking. “The only disgrace is forcing a woman to marry a man she doesn’t love. Let her choose.” He extends a hand toward you, daring you to defy every expectation, every command that’s been drilled into you since birth.

Your breath catches in your throat. The world seems to narrow to this single moment—the choice between duty and desire, between a life of cold gold and a life of burning passion. The rose on your head suddenly feels heavy, a symbol of everything you stand to lose if you step toward him. But the thought of losing Gwayne is a pain sharper than any blade.

“Your duty is to your house,” your father snaps, gripping your arm. His fingers dig into your flesh, as if he can keep you there by force.

“Is it?” you whisper, meeting his gaze. “Or is my duty to myself?” With a sudden, fierce resolve, you tear your arm free, the embroidered fabric of your sleeve ripping in the process. The soft sound is like the tearing of bonds that have held you for too long.

The tension breaks like a thunderclap. You lift your skirts and run, the long train of your gown dragging behind you like the last vestiges of your old life. Gwayne doesn’t hesitate. He rushes forward, grabbing your hand and pulling you into a tight embrace as you reach him. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath the leather armor, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

“Are you ready?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You nod, breathless. “I was ready the moment I saw you.”

With that, he pulls you toward the doors, toward freedom. The guests shout in outrage, your father’s curses mixing with the indignant roars of the Lannisters. But you don’t care. All you can think about is the wind in your hair and the warmth of Gwayne’s hand in yours as you both burst out into the sunlight.

Two horses stand waiting, saddled and ready. Without another word, Gwayne lifts you onto one, his touch gentle but urgent. He mounts his own horse in a single fluid motion and turns to you, his eyes blazing with determination. “We ride to Oldtown. There, we’ll be married by nightfall.”

Your heart swells at his words. There is no more doubt, no more hesitation. Only the thrill of running toward a future you chose for yourself. You share one last glance, and then together, you kick your horses into a gallop, racing away from the sept, from duty, from everything that sought to bind you.

The road ahead is rough, the path winding and treacherous, but with Gwayne at your side, it feels like the smoothest ride of your life. The wind whips your hair, tangling it with the remnants of your torn veil, but you laugh—a wild, unrestrained sound that echoes over the hills.

“This is madness,” you shout to him over the pounding hooves, but there’s pure joy in your voice.

“Madness is letting you go,” he replies, a grin splitting his face. He reaches over, his fingers brushing yours as you ride side by side. It’s a touch full of unspoken promises and a future yet to be written.

By the time you reach Oldtown, the sky is painted in hues of dusk, the Hightower looming over the horizon like a beacon guiding you both home. Gwayne helps you down from your horse, and you’re both breathless, flushed from the ride. He pauses, holding you close for a moment longer than necessary, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ll never let anyone take you from me,” he whispers, fierce and possessive, but laced with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“Good,” you reply, your voice steady and sure. “Because I won’t let you go either.”

Hand in hand, you enter the modest sept in the shadow of the Hightower. The ceremony is simple, witnessed only by a few loyal friends, but it is perfect. When Gwayne says his vows, his voice is low and rough, thick with emotion. And when you pledge yourself to him, it’s with a heart so full it feels like it might burst.

As the septon pronounces you husband and wife, Gwayne leans in to kiss you, a fierce, claiming kiss that seals your fates together. In that moment, you know that no matter what battles lie ahead, no matter who might seek to tear you apart, you have already won the greatest victory: a life lived on your own terms, with the man you chose.

Life in Oldtown is a far cry from the rigid splendor of Highgarden or the bustling grandeur of King’s Landing. The Hightower looms majestically above the city, its walls steeped in history and tradition. You’ve come to love its winding corridors, the serene gardens tucked away behind ancient stone walls, and the way the sea breeze carries the scent of salt and lavender through the open windows. It’s become your home—a place where you and Gwayne have carved out a life filled with laughter, warmth, and stolen moments of happiness.

This morning is bright and pleasant, the sun spilling golden light across the gardens where you sit with Prince Daeron. The young Targaryen, with his silver-gold hair and lilac eyes, is a delight—sharp-witted and full of curiosity, yet with the unmistakable earnestness of youth. He often seeks your company, and you’ve grown fond of the boy, finding comfort in his easy laughter and unguarded conversations. Today, the two of you are seated beneath a blossoming magnolia tree, playing a game of cyvasse, though it’s clear Daeron is far more interested in the tales you’ve been telling him about the Reach.

“And is it true,” Daeron asks, eyes alight with fascination, “that the fields near Highgarden stretch as far as the eye can see? Nothing but green and gold?”

You smile at the eagerness in his voice. “Aye, and in summer, the air is thick with the scent of roses. The orchards are heavy with fruit, and the rivers run clear and cool. It’s as close to paradise as one might find in Westeros.”

Daeron leans closer, resting his chin on his hand. “You make it sound like a dream. Perhaps one day, I’ll see it with my own eyes.”

“Perhaps,” you say, though there’s a touch of melancholy in your tone. “But Oldtown has its own beauty, Daeron. Have you grown fond of it?”

He nods, a thoughtful expression passing over his young face. “I have. But it’s different—quieter, more… ancient. The Hightower has secrets, I think, buried deep beneath its stones.”

Before you can reply, you notice Gwayne approaching from across the garden. He’s dressed in simple but well-made clothing, his sword strapped to his side as always. When he sees you with Daeron, a warm smile lights up his face, and your heart skips a beat as it always does when you see him. Even after all this time, the love between you remains as fierce and tender as it was the day he stole you away.

“Prince Daeron,” Gwayne greets the boy with a respectful nod, though his gaze lingers on you, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “I hope you’ve been kind to my wife and haven’t defeated her too soundly at cyvasse.”

Daeron grins, shaking his head. “She’s a worthy opponent, Ser Gwayne. I’ve yet to best her.”

Gwayne chuckles, but then his tone softens as he turns to you. “My love, would you join me for a walk? There’s something I wish to show you.”

Your curiosity piqued, you glance at Daeron, who waves you away with a knowing smile. “Go on, my lady. I’ll study my strategy for our next match.”

You rise, smoothing the folds of your gown as Gwayne offers you his arm. As the two of you walk through the garden, you feel the familiar comfort of his presence, the way his strength grounds you, even in the quietest of moments. You follow him deeper into the garden, past the flowering hedges and beneath the shadow of the towering walls, until you reach a secluded corner where a stone bench sits nestled between climbing roses.

“Here,” Gwayne says softly, guiding you to sit. The sun filters through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground, and the air hums with the song of distant birds.

“What is it you wished to show me?” you ask, though your voice is gentle, already sensing that this moment is less about revealing something new and more about being together, away from the prying eyes of court and the endless duties that come with your position.

Gwayne’s smile is tender as he sits beside you, taking your hand in his. “Nothing but this—just us, here, away from everything. I’ve been wanting a moment alone with you all day.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a familiar and intimate gesture that never fails to send warmth curling through your chest. The world falls away, leaving only the two of you, the quiet rustle of leaves, and the scent of roses hanging in the air.

“You spend so much time caring for others—Daeron, the household, the people who come to us with their troubles. I sometimes wonder if you’ve time left for yourself,” he murmurs, his gaze searching yours.

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “How could I want for anything when I have you? You’re all I need, Gwayne. You always have been.”

His eyes darken with affection, and he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your fingers. “And you, my sweet rose, are more than I ever dreamed of. I often think of the day we ran away together—how reckless it was, how mad we must’ve seemed. And yet, here we are. You, the light in my life, and me, foolishly in love with you every day more than the last.”

There’s a sincerity in his words that makes your heart swell. You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around you, holding you close. For a long while, neither of you speaks, content simply to be in each other’s presence, surrounded by the peaceful solitude of the garden.

Eventually, Gwayne shifts, turning so he can cradle your face in his hands. His touch is gentle, reverent, as if he’s memorizing every line, every freckle and feature. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and there’s a rawness in his voice, a depth of feeling that makes your breath catch.

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “And you are everything I never knew I needed.”

He leans in slowly, giving you time to close the distance, and when his lips finally meet yours, it’s soft, tender, and full of unspoken promises. The kiss deepens gradually, a slow, deliberate connection that speaks of love and trust and a desire that never quite fades. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, so close it matches your own.

“This,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion, “this is all I want. A life with you, here, in our little world, where no one can touch us.”

You smile, closing your eyes and savoring the closeness, the warmth of him against you. “And you have it, Gwayne.”

The room is bathed in the soft light of dawn, the golden hues filtering through the gauzy curtains and casting a warm glow across the bed. The linens are tangled beneath you, a reminder of the night spent wrapped in each other’s embrace. Gwayne lies beside you, propped up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on you as if he’s trying to memorize every detail, every curve and feature. The air is thick with the scent of roses, mingled with the salt from the sea breeze wafting through the open window. 

His fingers trace idle patterns along your bare shoulder, lingering on the curve of your neck, then down to your chest before they rest on the gentle swell of your abdomen. You place your hand over his, and he looks at you with a mixture of longing and regret. It’s in his eyes, in the way his thumb absently strokes your skin as if he can’t bear the thought of leaving you.

“I wish I could stay,” he whispers, his voice rough from sleep and emotion. “It kills me to think I won’t be here when our child is born.”

You close your eyes against the sting of tears, fighting the lump in your throat. “I wish you could stay too,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I know you must go. Aegon’s summons cannot be ignored, and you have always been loyal to your family. I understand that.”

Gwayne leans down, brushing his lips softly against your temple before moving lower, trailing kisses down your cheek and jaw. His lips linger at the curve of your belly, reverently pressing a kiss to the slight bump that holds your child—the child he might not meet for months, perhaps longer. The touch is tender, filled with all the love and unspoken vows he cannot put into words. You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he murmurs, “I’ll be back before you know it, my love. I swear it.”

You reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, holding him close. “You can’t promise that,” you say, your voice trembling despite your attempt to stay strong. “King’s Landing is dangerous, especially now, with the realm so divided. What if—”

Gwayne lifts his head, cutting you off with a kiss—deep, slow, filled with a desperation that echoes the ache in your chest. When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way he holds back the fear he won’t speak aloud.

“No ‘what ifs,’” he says firmly, though there’s a faint tremor in his voice. “I’ll do everything in my power to return to you and our child. This is my life—you are my life. Nothing will keep me from you.”

You nod, blinking away tears that threaten to spill. “I want to believe that.”

“Then believe it,” he whispers, cupping your face and wiping a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Hold onto that hope. I’ll need it as much as you do while I’m away.”

For a long moment, the two of you simply hold each other, the silence heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and the bittersweet reality of this impending separation. You can feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat against your palm, and it takes everything in you not to beg him to stay, to forsake the king’s orders and remain here, safe, with you.

But you know Gwayne, and you know his sense of duty runs as deep as his love. He would never forgive himself if he abandoned his responsibilities, even for the sake of his own happiness. And so, you do not say the words that claw at the back of your throat. Instead, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent—earthy and familiar, a comfort you’ll cling to in the lonely nights ahead.

After what feels like an eternity, Gwayne gently disentangles himself from your embrace, rising from the bed and beginning to dress in silence. The rustle of fabric and the soft clink of his belt buckle are the only sounds in the room. You watch him as he fastens his sword to his side, his expression distant, already steeling himself for the journey ahead.

When he’s fully dressed, he turns back to you, his eyes softening as they meet yours. He crosses the room in a few strides and kneels beside the bed, taking your hand in his. “I’ll write as soon as I reach King’s Landing. And every chance I get, I’ll send word to you. I want to know everything—how you’re feeling, how the babe is growing… Everything.”

You nod, squeezing his hand tightly. “I’ll write too. I’ll tell you of every little thing, so you don’t feel too far away from us.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in one last kiss—sweet and tender, a promise sealed between you. When he finally pulls away, it’s with a sigh that speaks of reluctance, of the struggle to let go.

“Take care of yourself and our little one,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be counting the days until I’m back in your arms.”

You manage a small smile, though your heart is breaking at the thought of watching him walk out that door. “And we’ll be counting the days until we see you again. Ride swiftly, and come back to us.”

With one last lingering touch, he rises, and then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, an emptiness settling over you like a heavy cloak. You press a hand to your belly, imagining the life growing within, and whisper softly, “Your father will come back to us. He must.”

But even as you say the words, a chill runs down your spine. All you can do now is wait, and hope that the gods are merciful enough to bring him back home—where he belongs, where all of your love and dreams are waiting for him.

The morning light spills across the bed, but it feels colder now, as if the warmth of his presence has been stripped away. You lie back against the pillows, closing your eyes and letting the memories of his touch, his voice, his promises fill the emptiness, holding onto them with every fiber of your being.

You whisper a silent prayer to the gods, hoping they listen, hoping they understand that your love is worth returning.

[reveryfics]

Winter Worries

Pairings: Peter Parker x Male Reader

Summary: Peter becomes worried about you working for Oscorb and follows you home, little does he realize you see him

A/n: rewrite of an older post, hopefully this one's better

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The snow fell in thick, heavy flakes, blanketing the city in a hushed silence. A lone figure, hunched against the biting wind, trudged down the slippery sidewalk. His breath, a visible mist, hung in the frigid air as he made his way towards his apartment building.

A sudden, sharp noise pierced the tranquility, emanating from a shadowy alleyway. The man's heart pounded in his chest as he paused, his gaze fixed on the dark, narrow passage. Curiosity warred with caution, and for a moment, he hesitated. The snow continued to fall, muffling the sounds of the city and adding to the eerie atmosphere. The man's breath quickened as he imagined the countless possibilities hidden within the darkness of the alleyway. Was it a stray cat, a late-night reveler, or something far more sinister?

With a deep breath, he steeled his nerves and cautiously approached the alleyway, the weight of the unknown heavy in the air.

As he stepped into the darkness, the snow crunched beneath his boots, and the only sound was the rhythmic pounding of his heart. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, and the shadows seemed to dance and shift in the dim light. The man's grip tightened on his coat, and he strained his ears, listening for any sound that might betray the presence of another.

Suddenly, a faint voice caught his attention. It was a familiar voice, one he'd heard many times before. "Following me now, Mr. Parker?"

A low grunt sounded from the other teen as he landed in the snow from his previous position. He walked forward, that all-too-familiar goofy smile plastered on his face. "Guilty," Peter hummed.

Peter stepped closer, his arms instinctively wrapping around his boyfriend. A look of concern flashed in his eyes, one the teen had seen often over the past year. "You followed me because you're worried," he stated, rather than asked.

The teen sighed, his hands reaching up to cup Peter's face. "You're right. I was worried about you being at Oscorp." He knew any excuse he tried to come up with would be futile.

Peter nodded, his gaze dropping to the snow-covered ground. "I know you worry, and I know you're scared that being Spider-Man could make things worse for us. But nothing bad is going to happen to me, I promise."

The teen couldn't help but smile. "Okay, okay. I trust you."

They stood there for a moment, the snow falling heavily around them. A shiver ran down the teen's spine, signaling it was time to head back to his apartment. They walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk, Peter excitedly talking about his latest web-shooter idea. The teen cherished these moments, when Peter was just Peter, carefree and passionate.

"Come on, dork. I'll make us some hot chocolate after my shower. Whipped cream?" Peter asked eagerly.

"Of course, whipped cream," the teen chuckled.

[moodymisty]

Hiii!!! I LOVE everything you write since I followed you a long time ago. I would like to read something about Rogal Dorn. I can't find ANYTHING about him and i just can't stop thinking about him.

I don't mind if it's smut, whatever you feel confortable with, but if it can have a little bit of fluff i would LOVE It.

Thank you for everything.💞

Author's note: Ok so I am deciding to do an idea i have for awhile, that I believe someone else posted but I cannot remember who. anyhoo, enjoy. Perhaps it's not as fluffy as you might have wanted, but fluffy Dorn is sort of awkward, nice Dorn so I hope you still like it;;

Relationships: Rogal Dorn/Fem!Reader (reader is a remembrancer)

Warnings: Perturabo calls you a whore but other than that nothing really of note

"I never did thank you properly for all of the clothes, Lord Dorn."

You look up at him, golden armor still shining in the relative dimness of the bridge- to only get a light nod of his head in response.

Inwit is freezing, unfathomably cold, and the clothes you had worn previously on Olympia failed to cut it. That had been a very quick, and very upsetting realization. Dorn had- in his stalwart silence - requisitioned you more only a few days later. Many more, custom-made. They were lined with warm furs and comfortable, built for hard winds and ice, trapping your body heat close to you. You had taken some of the layers off since you were arriving to Terra, a planet with a much more tempered climate. You don't miss the burning of your cheeks and frozen snot, but you do miss the planet overall.

Terra... Coming here makes you nervous. You know who is going to be here. Take a few deep, self-assuring breaths before looking in Dorn's general direction. The large glass viewport at the front of the bridge illuminates most of the floor, casting you all in a variety of colors.

"Lord Dorn, may I ask you a question about something?"

He turns to you, looking down at your hesitant expression.

"Did Perturabo make you beg permission to speak to him? Just ask it."

He did, more often than not. You remember more than a few instances.

"Well, he was actually going to be what I wanted to ask about."

You twisted your wrists in your hands, trying to do some sort of fidget to focus on while Dorn had his full attention on you.

"Has he always hated you? The entire time I was in his company, there was always just undertone of pure, seething hatred for you, but whenever I saw you, you didn't seem to even care."

There are a few other Imperial Fists on the bridge, watching as Terra comes into view. You're in the process of getting caught by the planet's orbit and mooring close enough to come down to the surface. You can see the palace already, even from this far, a golden target that is still growing larger with each day.

"Perturabo has always been that way, yes."

Dorn turns to briefly give an order to a questioning Imperial Fist, before returning to you and his explanation.

"He sees competition in my existence. I don't care."

Polux approaches, choosing to stand on your opposing side and wait patiently for his moment to speak. You give him a brief smile as greeting before returning your eyes to his primarch. Dorn looks forward and out the viewport, watching the palace of his design inch closer and closer.

"Sanguinius and Horus' rivalry is even matched. They both find growth from it. Perturabo's rivalry with me is a childish urge to beat me into the ground and prove to everyone that he is better."

You don't disagree with him in even the slightest. Perturabo was always so desperate to beat Dorn above all else, even to the detriment of other facets of his life.

"Despite the fact that he isn't?"

Dorn looks at you fully again, eyebrows raised and you swear, you swear, the inkling of a smile on his face.

"You have spent more time with him than I. Do you think that?" He turns on his heel slightly, armor shifting and clanking against eachother to face you more.

"Do you think The Emperor was right in claiming me Praetorian over him?"

You've been with the Imperial fists for a few months now, and this is far from the first time you've spoken to Dorn. Far more than you ever interacted with Perturabo, despite the fact that Dorn is known for being tight lipped and humorless.

You nod.

"Yes, I do. Perturabo's plans are always so complex, and he hinges them and his entire self worth on being better than you. And when he fails, he sulks." You smile. "I don't imagine you or your sons to be the type to sit and pout if something went wrong. You would all be too busy trying to correct it."

Dorn looks down at you, face as stoic and frozen as you've become quite used to. You don't know entirely what he's thinking, but you don't get a chance to ask before someone else's voice interrupts you.

Polux has a younger astartes walk up to him, stating some information that flows in one ear and out the other for you before walking away. He turns to the both of you, looking two his primarch but referring to the both of you.

"My lord, we are ready to depart for the palace. Is she accompanying us?"

You've never stepped foot on Terra before, to even come into it's orbit is an idea that you could barely handle; Alongside the fact that the primarch and his captains have little need for you there. You gather yourself, preparing to return to the Librarium aboard the ship to continue your work before Dorn's voice stops you in your tracks and sends almost every emotion through you at once.

"She is. Let us go."

Your first time on Terra was going well, in the first hour or so.

Dorn isn't much of a communicator, so he has spent the long of it conversing with his men, giving orders even while not aboard his ship. Either orders given to send back to the Phalanx, or to the Imperial Fists on Terra assisting with the Palace construction. You stand idly by and occasionally draw, or write something down that interests you.

The smoothness stops however, when Dorn looks away abruptly. His sons are confused, before they also perk up not a moment later. You look to Polux, as you know he's the one who will most likely acquiesce to your questions.

"What is it?" You say. He tilts his head vaguely in your direction, but doesn't actually look at you.

"Primarch Perturabo is on his way. He must've heard we had arrived," Polux takes a breath, presumably steeling himself for whatever is to come.

"His... footsteps are quite loud." Not a few more moments later now even you can hear them, and then see him shortly thereafter.

Perturabo storms closer; You can tell by the red flush over his tanned skin, that he is beyond furious.

Dorn looks down at you, and points behind him. His voice leaves no room for question, not as if you would even considering doing so in the first place.

"Go to Vulkan."

The Salamander's primarch had finished speaking to Dorn not long ago, now standing across the massive open area that you presumed served as a training ground for the astartes. You do as your now primarch commands and rush towards him, feeling his eyes on him as you approach.

"I am terribly sorry to bother you Lord Vulkan, but My lord Dorn told me to-" He ushers you closer with a hand, his voice gentle despite his overwhelming size.

"I am well aware of your circumstances, and what is more than likely about to play out. You can stay here with me."

You take refuge close to the Salamander's primarch, both standing and watching as Perturabo confronts Dorn. Multiple of his Imperial Fists straighten up and hold themselves at the ready, prepared to fight for their primarch if it ever be needed.

"Dorn!"

A disrespectful finger points his way, but Dorn pays it no mind. The white fabric of Perturabo's Olympian clothes flow softly and comfortably in the gentle wing, in contrast to the sharp, unforgiving features of his face.

"You think you can just steal from me now? Are you truly so bold now that you're praetorian?"

Dorn only speaks up when Perturabo is close enough that he doesn't have to yell.

"She wanted to leave."

Dorn speaks plainly, bluntly, as if he's just totally uncaring of the conversation.

You've learned over time that Dorn is far from emotionless; He merely doesn't waste it on things he deems pointless. This is pointless, and so he only speaks with the most blunt, monotone voice. It pisses Perturabo off to an unfathomable degree.

To think he was so upset about your departure without his dismissal. He had been nothing but cold and cruel to you, despite the fact that you were merely there to document his legion's progresses.

"I don't care what she wanted. She was indebted to my legion, and I will not tolerate deserters no matter how useless I think they are,"

Perturabo yells. Once his frustration at Dorn is exhausted enough that his attention can be deviated, he turns his gaze to you.

It feels like the gravity of a planet is pushing down onto you, the sheer weight of his anger. Even from so far away. Even the weight of Primarch Vulkan's hand on your shoulder does nothing to shield you from it.

"I hope you heard me, you lying, traitorous little whore. I hope you know I'll wring your neck myself when I catch you."

It takes every bit of energy to avoid crumbling instantly, at the threat of a primarch. Thankfully he leaves shortly after, storming off with the flowing white fabric of his clothes flowing behind him.

Vulkan sighs. You think he said something to reassure you, but you can't hear it over the thumping of your heart in your ears.

"I truly don't think there is much we can do to change him." Corvus- whom you've only just realized was here the entire time with a startle upon hearing his voice - shakes his head.

"His desire to be superior is tripped up at every point by his insufferable personality."

Vulkan looks down at you as an Imperial Fist approaches.

"Are you alright?" He says, and the caring nature of it is a bit overwhelming.

"I, I hope so." Vulkan doesn't laugh, but there is a softness on his face as he smiles at you. Corvus simply watches, and you once again realized that he was there.

"We all know Dorn. He has mentioned you quite a bit,"

"For him," Corvus adds. Vulkan gives him a quick look before turning back to you.

"I do not think he would ever allow anything to happen to you."

The reassurance of a primarch is a feeling next to none; But so it's the threat of one. They both battle in your heart and soul as the Imperial Fist reaches you.

"Lord Dorn is going to have one of us escort you back to the ship."

You nod, looking up to Vulkan to thank him. He simply smiles and speaks before you have a chance to give any gratitude.

"Stay safe, little one."

You follow that Imperial Fist back, before he leaves you on your own close to your quarters. Once you get into them, the door shutting behind you with a hiss, your chest starts to tighten like something has a hold on it.

Every Iron Warrior now likely knows that Perturabo wants your head on a pike. You try to steady your breathing, dumping your papers onto your small desk and sitting on the edge of your bed with a soft thud.

It's getting harder to breath, you swallow a massive knot in your throat. You try to shake your leg, dig your fingers into your palms to stop the feeling, like your heart is going to explode, the thumping of blood in your ears-

It starts to level down after awhile, the room steadies and no longer is spinning. Once that happens, the tears actually start to come, and you keep trying to wipe them away each time a few fall.

You don't regret leaving the Iron Warriors; Olympia. You don't know what Dorn saw in you that was enough for him to offer you a place but you don't regret taking it. His legion's treatment of you compared to your time on Olympia was incomparable, but the petty nature you had witnessed from the primarch was now focused on you; Your betrayal of fleeing to Dorn.

You have your arms wrapped around yourself, tightening them as someone opens your door. Your momentary startle fades when you realize who it is.

It's Dorn. You don't know when his presence stopped being so intimidating, even as a primarch; Perhaps it's the time you've spent with him recently that has gotten you used to him.

"You have been crying."

It would surely be easy to tell- you can still fear the wetness of tears on your face. You take a deep breath and clear your throat to try and speak normally.

"Primarch Perturabo wants my beaten corpse at his feet, and I don't, I don't know what to do-"

He comes closer, face neutral and stoic. You try and contain the emotion on your face.

Stupid, all of it, is what Perturabo would've said to you. You were always a stupid, pointless inconvenience forced upon him. But yet one he was still so upset to see leave.

"I knew very well how he would behave when I offered you a place here. I will not allow him to harm you."

In his own, odd way, the sentence calms you. It's not a lie, it is the utmost truth put into blunt, simple words. You sniffle and unwrap your arms from around yourself, returning to some level of normalcy.

"Thank you..." You say, and Dorn- to your surprise - kneels.

"Do not thank me for something I should do. I put you in this predicament and made you an enemy of him."

Dorn is quiet for a moment. You look at him questioningly, but he doesn't seem to notice. Then suddenly a hand rests heavy on your shoulder, and he leans in to press his lips to yours.

It's only a split second, it's chaste and quick, and he pulls away as a string of spit snaps between you both. You barely even have a chance to process it all; A primarch just kissed you. You had liked him, but you firmly pushed those thoughts from your mind for the sheer absurdity of them.

“You shouldn’t cry.” At first you think he’s telling you not to be weak- To suck it up.

“I, should not have allowed him to speak to you that way. I allowed him to make you cry.”

Crying is nothing; the fact that he has said he would protect you from an enraged primarch that by all intents and purposes you betrayed, is more than worth its weight. You don’t care about the crying.

"I'll be fine. I just needed a minute, and," You laugh. "Hopefully that's the last time I ever see his face." Dorn doesn't smile, but his voice has a gentle tilt of amusement that makes you smile a bit wider.

"I admit I would be jealous of you if that were to be the case."

You don't envy that he will have to continue to deal with Perturabo, especially now that your presence has created a deeper rift. Alongside his duties as Praetorian.

Dorn rises up from his knee and reaches out a hand.

"I am going to speak to my men about progress of the Palace walls. Come with me."

You take his hand, and you expect him to just allow you to pull yourself up, but instead he wraps his fingers around it and holds your hand, guiding you out of your room. He lets go moments after, but the gesture was there none the less.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: first draft of my final assignment is done, just need to do a few other things for class and I'm pretty much done.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

As night falls, you feel woozy. You don’t know how much longer you can hold out. The boxed macaroni and cheese only made your stomach hurt and you’re pretty much out of water. Tomorrow you might just have to venture outside and hope he’s not around. Somehow, you don’t think he’s ever gone. He seems to always be watching. 

You can’t focus on your book. The edges of your vision are hazy and your head is pounding. You close it and look for something to watch. You just as quickly forget what you’re doing and shut off the television. You’re too weak to make it to the bed. You're tired, you just want to sleep. 

You look at the window before you lay down, then glance down. The light isn’t there yet. Its absence unsettles you. You wouldn’t exactly prefer it was but it not being there makes you wonder if something else is coming. 

You’re too exhausted to worry about it. You close your eyes as you lay flat on the couch. You exhale and let your body relax. The tension is as tiring as anything else. You’re always wound up tight, always waiting, always watching. You just don’t have anything left in you. 

That familiar drifting sensation takes over you. Your eyelids itch and your muscles grow heavy. You slip into your unconscious little by little until your shrouded in a deep unbreakable darkness. You’re not scared or frustrated or happy or sad. You’re just tired. 

The shatter of glasses splices through your momentary escape. You groan as you eyes snap open and you lay in the dimness of your apartment. What happened? The light was on when you passed out. What was that noise? 

You push yourself up to your elbows and look at the window. There’s not green light but something worse. The window is broken. The jagged glass shines with moonlight as shards litter the floor. You sit up all the way and scramble around, unable to make sense through the darkness and your own sluggish perception. 

You reach for the lamp and try to turn it on. On, off, on, off. You shake your head, trying to free yourself from the clouds, and stagger to your feet. You go to the wall and flip the switch for the overhead light. Nothing. The power must be out. You can’t even hear the hum of the fridge. 

A tickle crawls into your throat and you cough. You smell smoke. You go to your desk and feel around for your phone. You wait for it to turn on as the dryness in your nose and throat build. You finally get the flashlight glowing on your cell and shine it around the room. 

The haze isn’t in your mind. The apartment is filling with smoke. You pull your shirt up over your nose and cough again. Your eyes burn as you try to see through the fog. There’s a dark shape on the carpet spewing fumes. What the heck? 

Adrenaline kicks in and instinct has you feet moving before you can think. You can’t breath. The smoke gets thicker as your eyes stream and you rack with coughs. You hit the door with your body, clawing at the lock, fingers aching as you twist back the latch. You waver as you step back, pulling the door inward and stumble into the hall. 

Your feet hit the floor clumsily, flat and thumping, thunderous in the hue of night. You hack again, hand on your chest, and tumble to your knees. You grip your head as the strength drains from your body, seeping away little by little. Are you dying? Is this it? 

You fall onto your side and suck in deep breaths. Your head lolls and your arm falls slack beside you. Your eyes roll up and a black silhouette appears above you. A tongue clicks and a whistle blows out. 

“I didn’t want it to be like this, baby cakes,” the timbre skews in your ears as your lashes close, “don’t worry...” the world shifts beneath you, “daddy’s got you.” 

👄

You don’t dream. You don’t think. You don’t feel. There is only endless black. 

A sliver of light pierces the void. It's too bright. Painfully so. Your eyes slit and you peek out from beneath heavy eyelids. You don’t recognise those walls, the bed is too soft to be yours, and this place doesn’t smell familiar. You take a deep breath and force your eyes open. 

Soft light glows through large panes to your left. The bed on which you lay is swathed in the dull tones of the morning rising just outside. You’re laid beneath blankets, several layers that make you sweat, and a cushy pillow cradles your head, many more litter the bed along the top. There’s too much of everything. 

The ceiling and walls are black, the bed frame too, the silky and dark, with a fluffy zebra print throw across the foot. You can’t see much more as you lay on your back. You might not know where you are but you can certainly figure who brought you there. 

On cue with your consciousness, the opposite the bed opens and you raise your head to watch a shadow enter. It reminds you of another figure, that one rippled with disorientation and impending darkness. He reaches to flip the switch beside the door and the two sconces mounted above the bet light up. 

It’s him. It wouldn’t be anyone else. That stranger from the cafe. Your personal tormentor. The man who calls himself Lloyd and a litany of ridiculous names. 

He stares back at you. You’re struck dumb with the dregs of you unconcscious and disbelief, meanwhile he looks almost giddy. A smile curves his lips under the line of hair and he rubs his palms together as he shifts his weight between his feet. He raises his hands appeasingly. 

“Jellybean, before you scream, please hear me out,” he pleads. 

You couldn’t scream if you tried. You’re too weak. This can’t be happening. Why would you be here? In a nice bed, in a nice room. You should be in some twisted torture chamber or out in the middle of the woods. If he’s going to kill you, he needs to at least be straightforward about. 

He turns and strides over to another door; a closet. He slides it open and tuts as he browses the contents. You can’t see past him. You barely even try as you let your head fall back against the pillow. 

“So, thoughts?” He turns to face you again as he holds up two hangers, “the navy is cute. I like the polka dots and the see throughness here and here, but the pink would bring out your complexion.” 

Your eyes flit down and you gape at the two dresses, one in each hand. You shake your head and blink. You bring a hand up and touch your forehead, a grumble slipping free. 

“You’re right, jellybean, it’s late,” he turns to put the dresses back in the closet, “we can deal with that in the morning. It’s not too far away... just a few hours.” 

He nears the bed and you shrink down, curling your shoulders in as you fold your arms over the blankets. He lowers himself next to you, an elbow in the pillows as he peers down at you. He reaches to touch your cheek and you try to move away. He barely seems to notice as he strokes your face. 

“I’ve just been so excited I can’t sleep,” he drags his knuckle around lightly, “but I didn’t want to wake you up. You need to rest. After everything you’ve been through.” He brings his legs up onto the bed and wiggles down to his side, “I know you don’t take care of yourself like you should, baby face, but that’s okay, because you have me now.” 

“Why... are you doing this?” You wisp out. 

He laughs, “you’re so funny...” he pets your chin, “and cute and...” he trails his hand down and squeezes your shoulder, “small. You’re adorable.” 

“Please,” you groan. 

“Why am I doing what?” He asks coyly, “why am I taking care of you? Why am I ready to give you everything? Why am I dying just to hear your voice and see your face and...” he stops and leans in, giving a deep sniff, “smell your hair?” 

You want to shrivel up. Your lip quivers as the daze recedes and the fear sets in. He’s delusional and you have no way out. You don’t even know where you are. It hardly matters, you doubt you could get very far. 

“You’re right. We should sleep. We have tomorrow to get settled in,” he reaches back to flip the light switch next to the bed, dimming the sconces back to black.  

He lifts himself to free the blankets from beneath him and sidles under them. He nestles close as you go rigid. He slips his arm under you as he nuzzles your cheek. 

“And every day after that. We have a whole lifetime ahead of us, jellybean. Me and you. Together forever...” he stretches his other arm over your stomach, “I never liked fairy tales before, babes. Not til you.” 

You close your eyes. You’re tired but there’s no way you’re falling back asleep. This is a waking nightmare. 

👄

The man, Lloyd, starts to snore. You feel his muscles relax and feel his breath steady against you. As much as you want to push him away and run, you can’t. You don’t know what it is. It’s akin to sleep paralysis. You’re awake but you can’t fight what’s happening. Something in your mind tells you it’s futile. 

The sun rise on the other side of the large windows. In any other circumstance, you would admire a place like this. The sleek furniture, the luxurious blankets, the expansive view. It’s a far cry from your cramped apartment and its small windows. 

You can only wallow in helpless self-pity. How did this happen? How did you let it happen? If you hadn’t been so indulgent, you would’ve never been seen. You should’ve known better than to go down to that cafe and splurge on something so menial. You could have made your own tea. You could’ve stayed inside, stayed safe. 

His closeness has you sweating. It’s uncomfortable and itchy. You want to rip your skin off. 

He moves and you hold your breath. He’s waking up. That can’t be good. At least asleep, he can’t do much. You curl your fingers into your palm and wait. 

“Mmm,” he leans in and brushes the tip of his nose against your cheek before planting a kiss, his mustache tickles, “this is heaven. I can’t...” he pushes himself up, planting his hand on the mattress, “I can’t believe this is real. You’re really here.” 

You look at him, almost glaring as you let your distress burn through. He doesn’t even notice as he rubs your arm and his blue eyes dance over you. Laying next to him as he looms over you, his size is more obvious. He’s much bigger than you. 

“Coffee?” He asks, “I got this new dark roast. All the way from Colombia. I haven’t even tried it. I’ve been waiting on you. Bet it’s much better than that InstaCafe.” 

You blink at him. All your fears are coming true. It’s not that he’s snatched you, it that he’s been watching you. You might never know how long but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change this moment. 

“And breakfast, if you’re hungry. I know you usually skip that but--” 

“Please stop,” you croak, “please...” 

“What? Honey, I’m just trying to show you all I can do for you. You don’t have to do all the work anymore. Staring at a screen is bad for your eyes. And your posture.” 

“I... I didn’t mind...” 

“Ah, that’s just you. You’re a hard worker. Resilient. You do what needs to be done. You don’t complain and you don’t make demands. Baby, you don’t have to. Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you without you even asking.” 

“I liked... being alone. I want to be alone,” your breath hitches between words as panic pulses in your chest. 

“Do you want to be alone or do you not know what it’s like to have someone? Jellybean, I’m scared too. You’re the first girl I’ve had in my bed that made it past dawn. Hell, the first girl I didn’t... you know,” he gives a crooked grin. 

Your lips part as you stare at him, dumbfounded. Sure, he didn’t do more than forcibly cuddle you but it doesn’t change what he did do. You shake your head and sputter as you search for words. 

“You followed me.” 

“I kept you safe,” he insists. 

“You turned my water off. I...” 

“That’s what the IV is for,” he reaches over to touch your other arm. You don’t know how you didn’t notice the tubing before. “I brought you tea. All you had to do was open up--” 

“You threw something through my window... there was smoke...” your lashes flutter as the memories creep back in. 

“I did what had to be done,” his grin falls away and his expression turns stony, “what you made me do.” 

You stare at him, speechless. 

“I haven’t given you any reason not to trust you. I mean, all you had to do was have a coffee with me. Or even open your door. Honey, I should be mad at you. You hung me out to dry but I can forgive you,” his face softens again, “how can I not?” His eyes go doey, “you’re so beautiful.” 

You lay there, unmoving. You feel as if any suddenness might trigger him. He traces along your cheek and jaw and down your neck, “did you decide?” 

You narrow your eyes and frown. 

“A dress? Blue or pink?” 

You don’t answer him. You just look at him as he continues to touch you. Your skin speckles with goosebumps as a chill rolls through you. 

“You know what, neither. I get it. You want something more classy. Yeah, given the occasion, I think you’re right, baby face,” he leans over you and looks you in the eye, “we’ll have a look in the closet after breakfast.” 

Before you can react, his lips are on yours. You let out a surprised squeak as he holds your chin in place. His mustache tickles you again and his tongue flits across your lips, wetting them just slightly before retracting. He pulls away and sighs. 

“Wow.” 

[frost-queen]

Falling leaves (Reader x Prince Zuko)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic  , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 , @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers  , @merlieve   , @queen-of-books  , @glimmering-darling-dolly  ,@denkisclown   , @wildieflower  ,@meyocoko   , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr  , @swampthing07  , @melsunshine   , @panhoeofmanyfandoms  , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat ,@rosecentury  ,  @imagines-by-her  ,  @evilcr0ne  , @vviolynn   , @niktwazny303  ,@avada-kedavra-bitch-187  , @markive-m , @sweetheartlizzie07

Summary: Lu Ten and you used to be engaged untill the news fell upon you of his death. After Lu Ten's death, grow Zuko and you closer. Eventually falling for each other, but remaining too guilty in honour of Lu Ten. Yet a simple nudge of Iroh eases Zuko in the right direction.

Anxiously you were pacing around in your room. Unable to sleep. Barely even attempted to go to bed when you had such a heavy weight on you. Something was occurring. You could sense it. Ever since Lu Ten has been called out to war, you’ve had nothing but restless sleep. Yet this was different. Mostly you could call asleep at some point.

Now you simply couldn’t. Afraid that if you might go to sleep, you might miss something of importance. There hadn’t been recent notes from him for days now as it started to worry you. Pacing around as your thumb rested between your teeth. Trying, hoping there would be news from him.

Yet deep down, you feared that if you might receive news, it wouldn’t be the best news. Your feet having walked countless steps. Simply going back and forth. It had become a routine, you would do mindlessly. Feet never seeming to tire out.

The candles were almost burned out. But a little stomp with the smallest of flames. Their nature light having dimmed the room. Anxiety rose as you so hoped there wouldn’t be any news. Hoping that Lu Ten was alright and would return from war. If not for the sake of you, then for the sake of his father Iroh. Countless more steps you did. Not once tired.

The sound of sudden knock on the door made you stop. Staring still at that cold door. Swallowing nervously, you blinked rapidly to keep your emotions down. – “Yes.” – you spoke watching as the door opened. You had expected an officer, a soldier, anyone but not him. Iroh came in sight as he pushed the door further open. His gaze kept on the ground. It was enough.

You inhaled deep with a shiver, lip trembling. Iroh entered, closing the door behind him. – “Y/n…” – he started unable to lift his gaze up to you. You noticed a piece of parchment in his hand, slightly hidden behind his back. – “I…my son…” – he said finally lifting his gaze up to you. Eyes glossy with hidden tears.

You bowed your head to him, pressing your lips together to silence your cry. Iroh noticed how you haven’t even prepared to go to bed. Still in full attire as if you had been waiting for any news. Iroh moved his hand with the letter in it, trembling to the front. – “My son…” – he repeated too much of a burden to speak the words. You went down on your knees, laying down, bowing the lowest to him. Iroh sniffled touched by your gesture of respect.

“My deepest apologies to you Y/n.” – Iroh spoke as it made you lift your head up. – “You lost a son.” – you replied not wanting him to apologize to you. There was no need for him to apologize to you. Not while he was grieving so much of his son. – “You lost a love.” – he answered, moving his hands togethers to bow at you. Getting up, you walked up to him. Cherishing your hands under his to lift him up.

Make him stand up straight once more. – “I bow to you.” – you friendly scolded him with a saddened smile. Iroh smiled faintly back at you. He then retired to his own quarters to grief for his son whoever he pleased. The moment he left, you felt yourself unbalance. Wobbly on your feet as it made you bump against the cabinet.

Hand brought up to your mouth, to deafen out your sobs. For your fiancé Lu Ten had lost his life in battle. The shock finally entering your body like an explosion. Shaking you to your core as it made every fibre in you tremble. Tremble as you let out a scream of agony. Scream so loud it died out to grasp for air followed by loud sobs and cries.

The very ground from underneath your feet caved away. For that night and many more nights they would be sleepless. The news of Lu Ten’s passing roamed quickly through the palace. The ceremony in honour of Lu Ten came three days later. Giving Iroh the time to grief alone and in silence. Lu Ten’s ceremony was peaceful. Iroh sat down. Three more empty chairs beside him.

You stood upright to his right. Hands folded together. Many of those who came to pay their respects, only had eyes for Iroh and his grief. Bowing to him without a word. You didn’t need the attention as you were but Lu Ten’s to be bride.

Prince Zuko paid his respects to Lu Ten. He then paused in front of his uncle. Bowing to him as well. For a moment he was about to move on, till he decided to stay. Iroh’s gaze slowly going up as he noticed Zuko had lingered. No one else took the time to linger. – “When my studies weren’t going well and father was unhappy.” – Zuko began looking humble at the ground. 

“Lu Ten gave me this.” – Iroh’s gaze went down to Zuko’s hand. Clearly holding something hidden in his palm. – “He won it for finishing first in his officers class. He said it should belong to someone  destined to do great things.” – Zuko continued as Iroh recognized it. – “It gave me strength.” – Zuko spoke with clarity. With a soft breath, he knelt down, taking his uncle’s hand to place the medal in his hand.

Zuko rose once more. – “Lu Ten didn’t needed it.” – he spoke looking back at his uncle. – “Because he was the strongest person I knew.” – Zuko finished with a caring smile. His uncle closed his hand on the medal, blinking a few tears away. Zuko then surprisingly turned to you. Holding his hands together to give you a bow.

It made you blink surprised as he was the first person to acknowledge your pain too. – “He loved you very much Y/n.” – Zuko said to you before coming to sit next to his uncle. Showing his gratitude and support to his uncle in his grieving. After the ceremony, you excused yourself from everyone. Heading up to the balcony. Arms resting on the railing as you let the breeze blow your tears away.

You didn’t notice someone approaching till you felt a presence near you. – “Prince Zuko.” – you said surprised, turning to bow at him. Zuko held his hand up with a sheepish smile. – “Please Y/n.” – he said not wanting you to threat him so stiffly as all the others did. With a simple nod, you accepted it. – “What you did for your uncle was very warmly.” – you told him gazing at the view. Zuko came resting his arms on the railing beside you.

“I am sorry not one of them acknowledged your pain, Y/n.” – Zuko said with sympathy. – “It is quite alright.” – you replied in a soft tone. – “It is not.” – Zuko answered with fierceness. – “You loved Lu Ten. You have every right to be threated with respect.” – you could see that he was getting a bit worked up over it. It made you chuckle a bit.

Zuko curled up a smile as well from seeing you light up. – “Thank you.” – you whispered out, feeling as if your heart was lighter. Zuko moved his hand to his chest, bowing to you. You turned back to the scenery, breathing deep. – “I shall leave you now…” – Zuko began with a gesture, already turning his posture away. – “Please!” – you called out making him stop his action. – “Stay.” – you finished sweetly, not wanting to be alone.

Zuko moved back beside you, remaining quiet as he enjoyed the scenery with you. He stayed with you until it grew too cold. Zuko led you back inside, for you to seek out warmth once more. Zuko bowed his head when he had guided you up to your quarters. You bend through your knees to curtsy at him. Zuko kept smiling at you as you closed the door on him. Surprisingly that night you slept well. The moment your head hit the pillow, you dreamed off.

As the sun rose once more, were you greeted by Prince Zuko once more. Waiting for you in the hallways to join you. Give you comfort and set your mind of your grief. It was nice to share more than tears. Zuko and you started to share small talk. Speak about the most simplest of things to get your minds off it. There was still time for grieving, but there were also moments of joy.

As the leaves changed Zuko and you grew closer to each other. Having spend so many time together it was almost impossible to not share a moment together a day. Zuko was once again waiting for you. – “Y/n there you are!” – he exclaimed, taking your hand to pull you along. – “Zuko do you not have studies?” – you questioned. – “Finished early.” – he breathed out, tugging more on you to hurry up.

You raised your eyebrow questionable up to him. Zuko placed his hand on yours that he was still holding. – “Oh come on Y/n. You know what an excellent student I am.” – he let out, making you laugh loud. Zuko led you outside to the pond. – “You should not neglect your studies. Your sister does not.” – you told him.

Zuko groaned soft. – “Can we please not talk about Azula.” – he answered with a bothered expression. – “Alright.” – you gave in moving your hand up. In the pond was a little family of turtle duck as you awed at them. – “Would you like to feed them?” – Zuko proposed already revealing some bread. You looked at him, how clearly he had foreseen this. Zuko shrugged his shoulders, giving you a piece of bread.

You started breaking it into smaller bits, tossing it into the pond. The turtle ducks swam over to it, nibbling on the bread. One of the little one’s bit at the bread, using a bit too much force as he dipped down, head first in the water. It made you laugh soft at how cute that looked. Hearing you laugh made Zuko smile. You started to throw more bread in the pond as Zuko kept giving you crumbled bread to toss.

 “Neglecting your studies for low life pets?” – A sharp voice came through making you gasp. – “What do you want Azula!” – Zuko said firm standing in front of you. – “Oh zuzu you humour me.” – Azula responded with a sneer. – “Perhaps you should keep feeding stupid ducks, for I’ll be sure to out do you soon enough… oh wait. I already did.” – she finished with a devilish chuckle. Zuko got tense as he wanted to have a go at her, but you stopped him.

Knowing Azula wasn’t worth it. – “Right have our cousin’s hand me down keep you tamed Zuzu.” – Azula mocked making you clench your jaw. – “Do not speak about Y/n like that!” – Zuko called out. It only seemed to amuse Azula more. – “I shall speak to her how I like!” – Azula shouted back, readying herself. Zuko’s eyes widened when he saw his sister create fire. Sending it towards the two of you.

Zuko wrapped his arms around you, pushing you to the side as he dove with you to the ground. Azula’s fire blowing over your heads. Azula laughed manically before taking her leave. – “Are… are you alright Y/n?” – Zuko questioned, lifting his head up as he suddenly noticed how close he was to your face. You nodded with a soft hum staring with wide eyes at him. Zuko’s eyes flicked briefly down to your lips as did yours.

Heart pounding louder as your eyes got drawn to his lips once more. Wondering what it would feel like to kiss them. For over the past few months that you had been spending more with him, you started to fall in love with Zuko. The sound of your heart beating got overwhelming as in this moment you wanted him to kiss you. The thought seemed to have crossed his mind as well. He moved his head a bit down, already tilting it to the side, slowly closing his eyes.

You felt his breath tickle your lips, anticipating the kiss. – “I…I shouldn’t.” – Zuko said pulling himself away. You got up as well, nodding. – “We shouldn’t.” – you responded, feeling guilty. Guilty for betraying Lu Ten. Zuko helped you up to your feet as you didn’t speak a word. Leaving in separate ways, too ashamed for ruining the memory of Lu Ten.

Zuko made his way into the palace, sighing deep. – “Nephew!” – Iroh’s stern voice came through, startling Zuko. – “Uncle.” – he spoke surprised. – “Were you just outside with Y/n?” – he asked. – “No…yes… I mean…” – Zuko stuttered out not sure how to respond to this. Zuko exhaled deep. – “I know I spend too much time with her and I am sorry for it uncle. I won’t let it happen again.”

Iroh furrowed his brows.  – “And why would you want to do that?” – he questioned again. – “Because…” – Zuko started trying to make it obvious without hurting his uncle’s feelings. Iroh picked up on it, chuckling deep. – “If you worry about me do not. I see how the two of you are around each other. You smile more nephew. I like to see you more smile.” – Iroh said with a nudge at Zuko.

“I…I don’t understand uncle.” – Zuko responded confused. Iroh chuckled once more, laying a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. – “If you worry about me do not. I would want nothing more than my favourite nephew to be happy with Y/n.” – he teased him. – “I am your only nephew.” – Zuko joked making Iroh laugh loud. – “Go on.” – Iroh gave Zuko another nudge back in the direction of the gardens. Zuko smiled, hugging his uncle before running back outside to look for you.

------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[courtingchaos]

Ok, i thought i'd give you a few options.

Having to fuck your way out of a speeding ticket or a possession charge or something with gator

or

flashing Steve on a dare at a party because boobies

or

Eddie being a clueless, naive knob when his crush comes on to him in increasingly obvious and suggestive ways and he just can't put two and two together until she's forced to grab him and be like, hi. hello. I'm trying to fuck you here. please compute.

Sorry if these seem stale. I'm not the most creative and they're all smut because I'm a degenerate too. Love your writing :)

Eddie being a clueless, naive knob when his crush comes on to him in increasingly obvious and suggestive ways and he just can't put two and two together until she's forced to grab him and be like, hi. hello. I'm trying to fuck you here. please compute.

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A record store meet-cute with Indiana’s most oblivious guitarist.

Warnings: Blow job and fingering, that’s it that’s all have fun.

A/N: Okay look, for one? Not stale at all. Also, degeneracy supremacy for all. This did the trick and in fact I also wrote the Gator prompt too because that was fun. However Steven eludes me lately so while I wanted to make all the dreams come true, alas I could not. These might not be exactly what you were aiming for? But there’s smut? And they’re fun? Meh, thank you for sending these in friend! Also I think I inadvertently channeled my dearest @chestylarouxx with this one so you know it’s gotta be good.

Gator will get posted separately.

18 + NSFW No Minors

He’s in the store all the time, always on your shift and usually finding you with whatever question he has like when he can’t find a new release or someone has misfiled a vinyl. He asks your opinion on the new releases and laughs when you roll your eyes, a scoff thrown at a new Madonna single. He’ll give you a shocked look when you tell him that you do in fact like Heart and also when you try to explain the shared root between his beloved thrash and the current punk scene.

Despite his affection for arguments with you he persists with toothy grins and a constant promise to ‘show you some real music’ sometime. There’s an undercurrent with your conversations, a feeling of flirting, like when he pulls that chunk of hair across his face while he tells you about his band. He gets bashful when you show interest and ask if it’d be cool if you went and all you can imagine is that dark hallway in the back of the bar and what he might look like under that dimming, yellowing light. It earns you a short nod and one of those smiles, lips tight over his teeth while his dimples dig craters into his pink cheeks. He says he’d love it. Says he can’t wait to see you. Says he’ll let the guys know they’ve got a number one fan now.

So when you get to the end of said night, after the fairly big crowd and all his other friends have filtered out, after his band has almost put up most of the equipment, after he’s collected their cut of the entry fees, you linger. Sitting at the end of the bar with your beer that you’ve been nervously picking the label off of for 20 minutes, waiting on him to make his way over. He taps the bar top and thanks the owner and starts his meandering walk toward you, counting back ones from the roll in a practiced hand. He looks like all the little daydreams you’ve had while watching him wander around the record store, dark hair damp from sweat and curling around his ears. His thin tee clings to him like his jeans cling to him and your heart hammers at the thought of pulling him back those few feet into that blessed, dingy hallway.

“You guys put on a hell of a show.”

“Oh you think so?” He looks up from his money and grins at you, the only girl in the room it would seem. You nod and laugh and start to pluck up your courage when one of the waitresses walks out of the back and squeals before grabbing his bicep and squeezing.

“Oh my god Eddie! You did so good tonight!” You can see her nails pressing into his skin and how his cheeks flame at her praise and suddenly you think you maybe misread this whole thing. “I told you there were gonna be more people this weekend!” She pulls him down and into her space, her nose scrunched up with a big smile for him.

“Thanks Vic.”

“I told you Robin would work miracles with those posters.” She gives him a final squeeze and gets back behind the bar to tie her apron on. He watches her walk down the bar until she takes an order and his gaze slides back to you, a little sheepish.

“Sorry about that.” He shoves the wad of cash in his front pocket and leans on the bar next to you. “You enjoyed it though?” He gives you a wide eyed look, anticipation rounding out his bambi eyes.

“Yeah.” It comes out more clipped than you meant so you clear your throat and direct your gaze back at your peeled Budweiser label. “Yeah, exactly like you said it would be.” A wide smile that you don’t let hit your eyes. Eddie shifts a little, his demeanor softer than it was before, his post show swagger gone when he tilts his head down to try and catch your eyes glued to your bottle.

“You sure? You just seem-“

“I-I’m sorry, it’s actually just-before I came out tonight I found out I need to open so.” You rush it out at him, glancing at your watch and never once noticing the actual time. “I didn’t want to just leave, but I gotta get going I’m sorry.” You shrug at him, half apologetic while you dig a five out of your wallet and toss it on the bar. “Hopefully I’ll see you on Tuesday though? Souls of Black is coming out!” You toss that over your shoulder to give your abrupt departure a bit of a softer hit. Eddie yells something after you that you pointedly ignore and you try your hardest to not kick the door open into the muggy night.

Tuesday morning and you pull a cassette from the display to hold on to. Not like it’s flying out the door but you know Eddie will beeline for you first thing, no matter what far corner of the store you’re occupying. You keep it tucked into one of the pockets on your half apron so you don’t forget it and so you can pull a magic trick when he inevitably comes up and asks you even though he walked by the display.

Noon rolls by and you see nary a curl come through the front door. By 2 you’re hanging out at the register, a permanent fixture there while your coworker takes advantage of your fixation and putzes around in the back. At 4 you contemplate calling the police because this is the most strange behavior you’ve witnessed from Hawkins’s residential Weirdo and at 6, when you flip the sign over to tell everyone you’re closed, you start to think you might have fucked up. Carla, your coworker, reminds you of the cassette in your packet when you toss your apron at the register. A little crease between her eyebrows when she asks, “That for Eddie?”

“Yeah, I was gonna be funny and tell him I could pull stuff out of my ass.” You tell her with a dry laugh and stash the tape under the counter.

“He never misses a Tuesday.”

“Yeah, well, first time for everything.” You shrug.

5 PM Wednesday night brings a rainstorm to downtown and a drowning rat in the form of a drenched Eddie into your store. He shakes off like a Labrador in the doorway and grumbles when he has to peel his jacket off his clammy arms.

“Hey stranger.” You say behind a pop of your gum. Barely looking up from the rolling stone you’re reading when he stomps over to the new releases.

“You’re shitting me.”

“What?”

“There’s no god damn way a Testament album sold out in Hawkins.” He throws his arms up dramatically and lets them slap down onto his damp jeans. Again you barely look when you pick up the stashed tape and hold it aloft, waiting for him to finally turn around and see. “What, did Gareth come in here first and snag the only copy or something?” He snaps cases together angrily while he shifts through them and you almost tell him to quit pitching a fit but it’s a little fun watching him dripping all over the linoleum. His hair clings to his neck, his white ringer tee see through over his shoulder where the rain got in under his collar. You spare a moment to think about what the rain must taste like on him.

“Eddie.”

“Seriously! First my piece of shit van didn’t start yesterday again so I was late to the shop which in turn meant I didn’t get over here.”

“Ed.”

“And then this fucking storm shows up out of fucking nowhere and I’m fucking soaked and I don’t have my fucking tape-oh.” He turns, fist clenched in front of him like he’s tearing at invisible threads, and stops mid rant when he sees the rectangle in your hand. “Oh hello gorgeous.” He looks like he’s in love and he holds out his hands towards you, grasping your fist in both of his to gently shake it. You laugh at his dramatics and let out a yell when he hops onto the counter, ass planted directly on your magazine you were staring through.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world you know that?”

“I have that effect on a lot of guys.” A buff of your nails against your collar and Eddie huffs. He pulls his shoulders in and gives you a side eye that feels a little personal for a second.

“Well alright, statement still stands.” He reads the track list on the back, a slight squint of his eyes and you wonder briefly if he needs glasses. “You listen to it yet?”

“Psh, no.”

“Why not?”

Well, you’d had a plan since the terrible show night and you stomping out of there with your feelings hurt over nothing.

“No one else I know listens to them, thought you’d maybe like to listen to it together?” This is the most courage you’ve ever had, you think as you look up at him through your lashes. “It’s not like a big deal or anything but-“

“Can I borrow your phone?”

“What?”

“I mean yeah, obviously I’d love to listen together but I need to make a call first.” He flashes you that big smile again and you hand the store receiver over. That nervous knot that had begun to form in your stomach is all but gone with his revelation:

Obviously he’d love that.

Obviously! It’s been so obvious right? He’s your number one customer, he’d walked right for you in the bar, and now he’s vehemently agreeing to listening to this album with you, giddy with excitement.

“Hey! Jeff! Put your dick away we’re coming over.”

Jeff? Jeff his guitarist?

“No, I’m at the record shop I got it! Yeah, yeah she’s a real sweetheart she held a copy for me.” Eddie rolls his head to face you and gives you a wink. “I know, she’s the best right?”

Fucking Jeff? You stare at Eddie, dumbfounded, yet again questioning how you keep reading this man wrong. What part of ‘do you want to listen together’ qualified a third party?

“Yeah, we’ll be over after close.” Eddie hands you the phone to hang up and you go through the motions, turning your body away to stare at a spot on the counter so you can frown deeply without him noticing.

“This is gonna be great.” He claps his hands together before hopping down off the counter and pulling his wallet out to pay. “I can finally smoke you out like I’ve been promising.” He wiggles his eyebrows like he’s some kind of cartoon wolf and you feel like you’ve missed a step on the stairs. What is he doing? Is this flirting? Does he use Jeff as a pawn in his games or is he just not picking up what your putting down?

“Yeah, it’ll be great, can’t wait.”

The hang out at Jeff’s wasn’t awkward but you think something is broken in your brain with how off the mark you seem to be.

You’d been aloof with Eddie when he’d first started hanging around you in the shop, not sure how to take his overly forward approach but he’d grown on you quick and the banter was good. He lobbed the conversation back and forth with you with practiced ease and really it was destined for you to find him charming. With his dimples and his music taste and his tattoos it was inevitable that you’d spend your afternoons shooting glances out the window, waiting for him to breeze in with a joke or another long winded story that he’d loose the thread for halfway through. He’d apologize and you’d laugh and sometimes he’d blush at you and that feeling that you thought was there?

Maybe it wasn’t.

You weren’t being particularly subtle with him. Friendly flirting it may be but your touches always lingered longer on his forearm, your lashes always fluttered at his nicknames and your giggles were sprinkled freely for him through his visits. Standard faire ‘come get me, I’m yours’.

Once again at work, mindlessly alphabetizing and sending yourself into a doom spiral you hear the bell above the door ring and a quick glance up makes you pause.

It’s the whole band this time, Eddie in the lead and heading straight for you.

“What now?”

He stops in his tracks, hand flying to his chest in mock affront. “To your favorite customer?!”

Jeff snorts and Gareth and Frank roll their eyes and immediately wander off to the record bins.

“You come in here with a purpose, I need to brace myself.”

“It’s not even for me!” Eddie whines and leans on your cart full of tapes. His rings clack against the plastic casings and catch the overhead lighting, distracting you for a second. “It’s for Gareth, we need to know what you have for a Jazz section.”

“Jazz?” These men confuse you with every new turn. Gareth has already found what he was looking for though, sitting on the floor and flipping through aging cardboard sleeves.

“What does he know about Jazz?” You ask Eddie when he wanders back over with you.

“Oh he was the drummer for the jazz band in high school, you don’t remember that?”

“No, I wasn’t in band.”

“Ah.” He’s leaning on the fixture you need to reorganize but you don’t want to ask him to move, the sunlight shining in at just the right angle to light up his features. You could kick yourself with how enamored you sound, especially when he seems to be woefully uninterested in you and your flirting.

“Hey Eddie?”

“Hm?” He turns to look at you over his shoulder, brown hair gleaming like satin in the sun. His eyebrows hitch up and he tucks his lip between his teeth to worry at it. A thousand little fantasies about that lip glide through your thoughts and you decide to give it one last go.

“Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?”

His lashes flutter at you while he processes your question, his guard down with no witty response lined up.

“Oh like…like w-when?” He’s not meeting your eyes anymore, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He shifts back to lean his weight on his other leg and leans away. He clams up and distances himself. “Because we’re free tonight after you close, but I know it’s a week night and you might be busy or whatever.” He cocks his head over to the other three grouped around the record crates and you realize it finally.

He’s letting you down soft. He doesn’t hate you, at least there’s that. He’d like to hang out sure, but there isn’t a romantic undercurrent like you’ve been imagining.

“Uh, yeah, tonight works.” You shrug and turn off your emotions. There was a brief prickle of heat behind your eyeballs but you stomp your foot down on that, converse pinning that feeling down like a moth in a frame. “Whenever though, I don’t want to interrupt your plans.” That roiling in your gut squirms under the pinprick and finally stills and you make sure your smile reaches your eyes this time. Eddie agrees and tells the guys and when they’re all standing at the register to check out you keep your cool. The countdown begins when you start typing in the prices, just ten more minutes before they’re on their way out and you can stand in the back and cry. You think about Carla giving you that sad little look and you know it’ll be a waterfall for sure.

“What fresh hell-“ Eddie yells and pushes the door open, red and blue lights flashing for a second before the cruiser engine shuts off. “Hey! I’m not parked illegally!” He shouts out at the deputy holding the windshield wiper of his van up, ticket clutched in his fist. When all Eddie gets is a blank stare he rushes out, leaving his friends staring after him.

“This’ll go over well.” Jeff sighs and hands you cash. “You’ll get to hear about this tonight for 8 hours.”

“About that. I might need to reschedule actually.” You can feel the cracks in the dam and you really don’t want to cry in front of these people.

“Oh?” Gareth gives you a side eye, something slick and calculating. Your eyes dart out the window to see Eddie gesturing at the signs on the street and you sigh heavy, handing their bag over to them.

“Yeah, I just forgot what uh, umm…” Trying to find a good excuse is impossible and he sees it on your face for what it is, an excuse.

“Oh my god Frank you owe me twenty bucks.” Gareth holds out his hand without looking at his friend. “I told you she didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“What.” That stops whatever waterworks were about to spring a leak. Gareth is smiling the biggest shit eating grin and suddenly Jeff and Frank are laughing while money is exchanging hands. “What are you talking about.”

“I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Eddie is the biggest fucking idiot.” Gareth laughs and pockets his money. “Like, I love that man but he has no idea what is going on.”

They aren’t laughing at you but you still feel rooted to the spot, and since none of them have started sharing this secret yet you start to get antsy. Jeff takes pity on you finally and tells you all about Eddie and his current fixation. He tells you about all the stories they’ve heard about you. How cool you are. How hot you are. How you’ll talk music with him like no one else and how you give only the best recommendations.

“You know he listens to New Order now because of you?” Jeff asks with a smile. “Like, great band but Eddie listening to them? He’s got it bad.”

You reel behind the counter while the three of them nod their heads sagely at you.

“He thought you had a boyfriend.”

“What?”

“When you left the other night after the show? He thought you picked up on him trying to flirt and got upset. I told him it was because it looked like Vicky was flirting but he was convinced he fucked up.”

“I thought-“ You don’t know what you thought because it hadn’t been anything actually. You had been jealous and it seemed like it was over nothing.

“Listen, you should still come out tonight. We can talk some sense into him if you want.”

“No.”

“No?” Jeff looks impressed.

“No, I can talk to him.” You run through your daydreams and your interactions. All his dumb jokes and how he looked after his show. You think about your hallway vision and what it might feel like to press him up against that wall and press a confession out of him. “I’ll talk to him.”

You don’t dress up for The Hideout. It’s dive bar chic only but tonight?

Tonight after you run back to your place to change, you dig out your black and white polka dot dress, the one you’d bought because Cyndi Lauper had made it look so good. It’s always sat a little short in the back, the buttons never coming up far enough in the bust for your confidence level but now it’s perfect. It flutters around your thighs and while you try not to poke yourself in the eye with your liner you think about Eddie’s fingers fluttering along with it. Maybe he’d be precious about it, a stuttering mess when you finally explain it to him in clear tones just what you were trying to do.

The whole drive over you imagine what his hair must feel like sliding between your fingers, what the stubble on his jaw would feel like grazing your knuckles, and you almost run two red lights. You’ve been stockpiling courage since the bands little conversation with you but when you finally pull into the parking lot and spot his van, you have a moment of doubt.

Right until he comes into view, leaning into his driver side with his ass sticking out, and it rushes back in tenfold. He doesn’t notice you park but you notice him futzing with his lighter, sad sparks sputtering around the end of his cigarette. Your kitten heels clack on the pavement and he only looks up when you’re almost on him, your own lighter held out in your palm. “Need a light?”

Eddie freezes, hands cupped around his face. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to let his gaze roam downward and you’re really hoping he gives into it. “I didn’t know we had a dress code tonight.” He mumbles around the filter and finally has enough of a thought to drop his hands and take your lighter. It strikes on the first try but you see the slight quiver of his hands when his eyes finally drop to the deep plunge of your dress.

“Oh this old thing? I hardly wear it.” You give him a half turn, just enough to make the hem ripple and he coughs on his inhale.

“It looks good. Y-you look good.” He’s a stuttering mess. “Um, if you want the guys are already inside I was just…” Eddie trails off when you take enough steps to crowd his space and he backs into his open door. The hinges squeak under the pressure and he scrambles to grab onto the frame with his free hand.

“Eddie?” You ask sweetly and he visibly swallows. “I don’t really want to drink with the guys.” You reach over and gently pull his cigarette from his fingers, mostly out of fear he might drop it in his van.

“Oh?” He’s taking short breaths the closer you get and when you lay your hands lightly on his chest you can feel his heart going a mile a minute.

“Mhm.”

The door creaks under his white knuckles and he seems to be holding on for dear life.

“I asked you out for a drink, but this is good too.” Inched close enough that your whisper ghosts over his lips before you close that short distance. That first breath in he smells like his half a cigarette and his aftershave. When his brain finally catches up to what you’re doing he gasps against your kiss, a move that you use to your advantage. Your hands find homes behind his neck to hold him close while your tongue pushes its way past his lips and he moans into your mouth. Here he taste like the beer he’s been drinking and tobacco and you start to get lost him.

He breaks the kiss before you can deepen it, breaths huffed across your face when he drops his forehead to yours.

“Ohhh, I’m a big idiot.” He laughs out in a whisper. “A big, big fuckin’ idiot.”

“No, just a little slow on the uptake.” You can’t resists the urge to slide your fingertips into his hair and the eye roll it gets you is divine.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t picking up on this, I thought I screwed up a few weeks ago-“

“Ed.” You slide your thumb over to rest on his lips. “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“I know but-“

“I’m serious.”

“I still feel stupid-“

“Get in the van.” You cut him off when you’ve heard enough. His eyes go wide before he gives one jerky nod of his head and quiet ‘yes’ and climbs in, disappearing between the seats to the back. You give one look around the parking lot before climbing in and closing the door behind you, any modesty long gone when you have to crawl into the back and you know your dress is bunched up around your hips. In the dark it takes you a moment before you can adjust but there’s a hand wrapped around the back of your knee pulling gently to bring you down to his level. You’ve barely got his outline made out before he’s pulling you in roughly by the leg, his other hand planting hard on the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss.

He’s less unsure in the back of his van, moving you around to situate you where he wants you and he lets you push him back against the hard floor once you’re settled in his lap. Your hands push up his shirt while his palms run up your bare thighs, bunching up the thin cotton of your dress till he hits the high cut of your underwear. His laugh turns into a groan when you move quickly down his neck leaving wet, open mouth kisses in your wake. You push his shirt up high and let your teeth drag against his nipple, the hitching in his chest making you smile against sensitive skin. His fingers slide under the edges of your underwear to grab at the fat of your ass and you slide your own fingers under his belt to pull it open.

“Oh hey, you don’t-“

“I don’t what?” The buckle clinks against his wallet chain and it all hits the floor with a heavy thud. “I don’t have to do this?” You tug at his button while holding his gaze and pull his zipper down quick. “Do you want me to do this?” A pause after you pull his jeans open so he can answer you.

His chest heaves but he smiles wide, tongue poking out to run along his bottom lip. “Yes.” He nods at your smile and keeps nodding when you pull his jeans down his hips and when your hand edges under the waistband of his boxers and when you crawl backwards out of his grasp. “Please.” He begs on a breath he started to hold when your dress slid up your hips as you bent down to place a kiss next to his bellybutton. “Please please please.” He chants when your hand wraps firmly around him, your smile pressing into the soft part of his belly.

“Please? Please what, Eddie?” You ask between the dotting of kisses you leave along his hips and the excruciating slow drag of your hand. He squirms under you, his stare heavy on the top of your head where he watches you move further down. “Please more of this?” You roll your wrist to finally free him and the flushed pink tip of his cock glistens in the low light before it disappears in your fist. He lets out a stuttering groan and falls flat on his back to run his hands over his face harshly.

“Or please this?” The flat of your tongue runs up from the base and follows your hand, ending with a cheeky kiss at the tip. You think Eddie might be crying under his big palms with how much he’s shaking.

“Is it that?” Another long lick that pulls a deep breath out of him. You spare a glance up his body to catch him staring at you in the dark from between his fingers.

“Yes fuck-oh shit.” You spare him his grief and swallow him down, your lips meeting your fist and your tongue exploring the soft skin against it. Every ridge and vein gets attention and Eddie rolls his hips up to chase the pointed tip of your tongue. His hands finally come down from his face, no longer obscuring his view, but they hover over your head haltingly.

“You can touch me Ed.” You tell him after popping off his cock wetly. When he stalls for a moment too long your pull a hand to fall on the crown of your head and his fingers slide in automatically, hair held gently between his knuckles. His hand tenses the same as his thighs when you wrap your lips around him again, humming at the taste as he hits the back of your throat. He makes breathy noises above you that choke off when your tongue swirls to match the twist of your hand. You bury your face down until your nose hits his bush and when you swallow around him he lets a string of slurred curses go into the roof, both hands sliding into your hair to grip tight.

You come up for air and to see his face go slack, eyes hazy where he follows the string of spit still connected to your lip and the tip of his cock.

“I didn’t know this is what going for a drink meant.” He tries to crack a joke but between his unfocused eyes and the hitch in his voice you laugh for a different reason.

“I did mean a drink actually, but this is a lot more fun.” Your hand speeds up, slick sounds loud in the back of his van and his eyes roll. You like watching him loose his mind, his hair pulled at and cheeks pink from the flush that creeps up from his chest. The urge to sink your teeth in along his ribs itches at the back of your mind until you can’t ignore it anymore and you attack him, hand trapped between the two of you still working him while you nip at his side. His laugh tumbles into an almost squeal and then a low moan when the head of his cock rubs against your thigh and he ruts up into your hand to chase the heat of your skin. You notice his sudden urgency and make your way back between his knees.

“Now I know it doesn’t look like it,” you lick your palm and continue jerking him off, “but I don’t put out on the first date.”

“This is a date?” He asks dazedly.

“It can be.” You smile at him before dropping your mouth on him again, bobbing up and down quicker this time.

“Oh fuck-“ His hands grip at your hair again, trying to pull back gently at first before he’s a little more insistent. “H-hey.” He tries again and you just stare up at him and hum, tongue running over that sensitive spot under the head of his dick. He must see the grin on your face because he finally drops his head back with a thud and he’s inadvertently bucking his hips up and gasping your name.

“Fuck fuck please don’t stop.” He bargains with you and the whine at the end of his words makes your stomach flip. You can feel the dampness between your thighs, your own arousal ignored in favor of making Eddie go stupid. With him toeing the edge of oblivion and whimpering about it though you almost wish you had just fucked him, if only to chase your own end.

You get a couple of courtesy taps and a whiney ‘no wait-‘ before he finally stills, a gasp caught in his chest that finally shudders out when he comes. His big hands cradle the back of your head when you swallow around him pulsing until he’s hissing and then he’s busy pulling you up to meet him halfway for a bruising kiss.

In the afterglow you realize you’ve had your whole ass out and anyone walking by his van could have seen you through the windshield. You only get a moment of embarrassment though before he’s moving into you and pushing you into the back of his driver seat.

“Hey we can-“ He pushes his face up under your jaw and cuts you off with open mouth kisses from your ear to your shoulder sitting bare under a hanging neckline. “We can go in for that drink now if you want.” You giggle at his eagerness and his hair tickling down your dress. He hasn’t even put himself together yet and he’s already got his hands on a mission, fists pulling and bunching up the fabric of your dress.

“I don’t want to go in for a drink.” He parrots your line back to you and carefully plucks at the big button keeping the top of your dress together. “I would like to express my sincere gratitude,” He works the button open one handed and catches your eye before dipping his fingers under the thin fabric and into the cup of your bra, “and deepest apologies,” the rough pad of his fingertip grazes a sensitive nipple and you bite your lip while your lashes flutter at him, “for being the worlds most ignorant individual.” He finishes on a whisper before he kisses you, plush lips soft and seeking like his hand now slowly working its way up your inner thigh. The tip of his pinky grazes along the edge of your underwear when his tongue slides along the seam of your lips and you grant him access to everything, knees falling apart and mouth molding to his.

This may not be your little dingy hallway inside but it’s better than any work daydream you’ve had about him. He slides your underwear down and pulls at your knee, spreading you open for him to run a finger in the crease of your hip. That earns him stifled whine from you and he tuts quietly. “Don’t be quiet.” His free hand pulls the shoulder of your dress down so he can plant a kiss there. “I gotta earn my forgiveness.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, it worked out.” You press your forehead into his and grin at him, stars in both your eyes you’re sure of it.

“Yeah but we could have been doing this so much sooner.” Just the slide of his finger through your folds makes you shiver, the wet sound of you loud in the quiet. “And look at me being ignorant again.” Two fingers this time, sliding up to find that small bundle of nerves that makes your head drop back. Eddie busies himself at your neck again, chest pressed into you and pinning you in place, fingers running tight circles over your clit. “Ignoring you in need.” His tongue worries at a spot behind your ear, an attempt to get you to relax into him and he dips his fingers down to gather your slick. “Let me help you out and maybe I’ll let you buy me a beer.”

You laugh and he sinks those two fingers in to hear you gasp and he wastes no time in his search for the right angle. He starts a quick pace that makes your breath catch in your chest and those musician fingers hone in on the spot that makes your legs jump.

“Oh is that it?” He bites softly at your neck stretched out under his mouth and laughs against your heated skin when you let out a strangled ‘uh huh’.

“Right there?” He flutters his fingers over and over, your thighs twitching with every brush. The heat pools fast in your abdomen especially with him mouthing at any skin he can find. You feel like you’re melting against him, the heat trapped between you and his fingers moving ceaselessly and when he angles his hand to press his thumb onto your clit you roll into him, thighs holding his arm in place.

“That’s it.” He murmurs and it’s your turn to bury your face, mouth hung open on a silent gasp against his chest.

“Eddie, please!”

“Please what?” He uses your words against you in play. “Please this?” A deeper brush of his fingertips and he grinds his hand against you. Your groan shakes deep out of your chest and before that band snaps to send you over the edge your hand winds up in his hair to hold on. It’s a quick push when your orgasm hits and Eddie doesn’t stop, not with you pulling his hair and gasping against his chest, not until you have to pull away, lightheaded and chest heaving.

“So I think that’s a good first apology, right?” He says into your hair, hand still trapped between your thighs.

“First?”

“Yeah I mean I have at least four more to make.” He removes his hand gently and finds your ruined underwear to wipe his fingers off, all while giving you a sly side eye.

“Are they all gonna be like that?” You feel boneless in the stifling heat of his van. He shifts and pulls you with him, slotting you between his legs so you can stay laying against his chest.

“I mean, they don’t have to be.” He sighs.

“No, no I like these kind of apologies.” You giggle against him and he pulls the hem of your dress down back over your hips. “Just maybe not always in the back of a van?”

“Oh no, I’ve got all kinds of places in mind. I Can say sorry in that little hallways inside,” your eyes go wide in the dark where he can’t see, “I’m sure you have a back room at work I can sneak into.”

“Oh my boss will love that.”

“Shit, I can find a corner in the garage no one uses, really the possibilities are endless.”

You know someone has to have noticed Eddie being gone for so long and you expect a tap on a window any minute but for now you stay tucked up against him. You’ll buy him his drink when his friends discover his fogged over van.

[holybibly]

The way I had a dream years ago almost the exact same as your park twins but with a different idol-

The innocent looking one and the seductive one being the vice versa of each other in bed

I'm foaming at the mouth

(I want to leave an emoji but I'm also a silent reader--)

Oh, sweet baby, I have a sense of my bunnies on a telepathic level, don't I? We just can't seem to get enough of Seonghwa and I'm totally happy with it. As promised, I'll be making a full piece for the Park twins, but while I'm at it, here's a little treat for you.

I was going to post this yesterday, but I'm going to do it today instead. Double the fun for you bunnies 🐰🐰

Our Sugar Weekend begins

It was hard to tear them away from you, even for a second, from the night you found yourself in the Park twins' bed, sandwiched between two hot and insatiable bodies.

You had always assumed that Hwaseong was a sex addict with an eternal and desperate need to fuck. But Seonghwa—that gentle, sweet Seonghwa whose eyes seemed to shine with all the stars of the universe—became a real surprise to you. The boy was demonic. Even the most innocent of kisses was enough to turn him on, and after a few seconds, you found yourself trapped in the bodies, hands, and lips of the Park twins.

A thin veil of sweat shimmered over your heated skin, and your chest rose and fell with breathless moans as you melted away under the endless caresses of the tireless twins.

The film night quickly turned into a session of hot kisses, and as a result, you found yourself where you were—your head resting on the soft headboard of a luxurious plush sofa, as Seonghwa straddled your chest. Your small hands were barely able to grasp your plump, heavy tits and squeeze them together so that he could slide his thick, long cock into the soft, cosy space between them. The twins were obsessed with your tits, constantly touching, biting, kissing, and licking them, and when you jokingly said they could fuck them, the sweet creature didn't think twice before climbing on top of you.

Even now, Seonghwa was angelic in appearance; his hair was soft and slightly curly, gleaming in the dim light of the room. His mouth was parted with sensual moans; his lips were wet and swollen from kissing, sweat glistening on his golden skin. Damn, he was mesmerising.

Hwaseong stood beside you, slowly stroking his magnificent cock, enjoying the sight of Seonghwa using your tits for his pleasure. He looked so fucked, his make-up smeared from all the kisses and heated caresses you had shared, his cat-like eyes clouded with need and desire, his lips glistening from the saliva his tongue had smeared over the soft, plump flesh. Hwaseong might look like a real demon on the outside, but in bed he was a desperate, horny kitten, eager to please you. He was obedient and gentle, unlike Seonghwa, who would bite you until you were bleeding and fuck you until you were unconscious.

From time to time, Hwaseong would brush his swollen, leaking cockhead across your lips. He would stain them with the shimmering viscosity of his pre-cum, leaving them shiny and wet. Every time your little tongue would stick out to taste it and lick his delicious-looking cock, he would pull away and deny you that pleasure, his eyes shining with pleasure at the temporary, fleeting power he now had over you, knowing that his brother had you pinned down and you couldn't gain control over him for the moment.

Seonghwa distracted you from the exquisite torment of his twin by placing his large, dainty hands over your small ones, helping you to press those hot, soft mounds of flesh closer together.

This made your tits massage his thick length even better with every thrust of his hips, causing Seonghwa to moan loudly and throw his head back so that you could enjoy the sight of his long neck covered in hickeys. It was moments like this that made you damn grateful to their parents for having given you not one but two damn attractive boys who, among other things, were mirrored in each other.

You could tell that Seonghwa was about to fall into the frenzy of his orgasm by the increasing speed of his movements and the slight twitching of his hips. And damned, every time he cum, his face was just unbelievable.

Excited by the idea of making him cum faster, you turned your head away from Hwaseong, tilting it down instead so that you could lick Seonghwa's cock every time the head of his cock appeared above the top of your breasts.

"More; I need more of it." Seonghwa moaned over you as your tongue slid over the head of his cock. The feeling of his cock sliding in the wet, warm space between your breasts was enough to send him to heaven. In combination with your tongue, it almost drove him crazy.

Hwaseong ran his fingers through your hair and gently pulled your head down to help you take Seonghwa's cock deep into your throat. With his other hand, he was pumping his own cock furiously. The moaning and the wet, slippery sounds you made together filled the entire room of the penthouse, plunging you even deeper into the intoxicating pleasure.

Hwaseong's hips moved closer and closer to your face, close enough to finally allow you to lick the bittersweet liquid that was pouring out of his beautiful slit and onto the head of his cock. Your tongue caressed both of them, tracing the length of their cocks and licking them with devoted passion as you swallowed every drop of the pre-cum that they offered you.

Just as you had expected, Seonghwa moaned loudly and long, throwing his head back even more and arching his back as his cock exploded in the crushing embrace of your tits. It decorated you with ribbons of milky fluid all the way from your plump and soft chest to your neck.

It didn't take long for Hwaseong to orgasm, either.

He aimed his cock at your pretty face, smearing your features with his cum as he watched the viscous fluid slowly flow down your flushed, glistening skin.

You breathed deeply, trying to catch your breath from the intense pleasure your body was experiencing, and although covered in their cum, you felt beautiful and wanted. Seonghwa got off you and pulled you into his arms before you could enjoy the warmth of their sticky cum.

Hwaseong's arms wrapped around your waist as he lowered his face down to your breasts, obediently licking the fluid from Seonghwa's skin until your tits and throat were glistening with his saliva instead of sticky, milky cum. Simultaneously, Seonghwa gently cupped the back of your head with his hand, turning your face towards him, and licked Hwaseong's cum from your cheeks and lips with equal tenderness, turning the lewd act into something sweet and adoring.

Satisfied that you were clean, the twins pulled you into an insatiable, carnivorous kiss as you clung to each other like kittens in heat, your hands touching each other. All of this was just a prelude to the real action, and you could already feel the hot touch of Seonghwa's fingers as they slid over your pussy and slowly began to stimulate you. Hwaseong's dick was already noticeably hard against your thigh.

Seonghwa and Hwaseong's insatiable sexual appetite might have been hard for some to handle. But you were more than happy to be their pleasure whenever they wanted.

[theodorecanaryhood]

The Apartment Upstairs

Jason Todd (left) x Male reader

Warning: swearing and sexual references

It was a quiet night for the streets, which made a huge change. Jason tiredly strolled down the hallway as he reached his apartment door.

He heard shuffling upstairs which was strange due to it being coming up so late, but he was too tired to care.

The next day, Jason spent time catching up on some Netflix. He was finding it hard to focus a little as there was some small banging from upstairs.

Jason opened his apartment door as he listened out, hearing someone shifting boxes and such upstairs.

Mr McGregor used to live in 13b, but he was admitted to a nursing home after suffering from dementia.

The countless times Jason used to find Mr McGregor trying to break into Jason’s apartment, thinking it was his own.

The times he would have to remind Mr McGregor it was a Sunday and no post or packages were coming, or that it wasn’t 1984 anymore. Jason used to get called Patrick, which was Mr McGregor’s brother.

Jason always felt sad for the older man, used to play along as to not cause too much confusion or frustration.

‘Hey’ Jason smiled as he saw his neighbour, a young blonde woman.

‘Hey Jason’ she responded, sitting through her baby things, starting to show a little.

Her husband came up behind and handed her a little bag, filled with baby clothes.

Jason smiled as he watched the interaction, and the possibility of another neighbour being lost. A one bedroom apartment wouldn’t be ideal for a newborn.

The laundry room was always dim, smelled funny and was always full. Rarely in the years that Jason lived here, he’d never seen the laundry room empty of clothes.

The machine going on a rampage as it cleaned all of Jason’s clothes, a male figure appeared in the room.

Jason knew just about everyone that lived in this building, advantage of being home all day most days.

Your petite figure was what caught Jason’s eyes first, your h/c hair and e/c eyes. Jason towered over most people, you seemed no exception.

You didn’t speak to Jason, nor did you introduce yourself. You both finished in the laundry room at the same time, Jason seeing as you went up to apartment 13b.

‘Guess he’s my new neighbour’ Jason mumbled to himself.

There was a silence that always filled the halls at this time, however, there was a small argument occurring.

Jason heard it was coming from above, figuring it was coming from you.

Jason made his way upstairs and saw as his new neighbour was throwing clothes at another man he’d never met.

‘Get out’ you shouted as the door shut in his face, the stranger picking up his clothes off the floor as he hurried away.

Jason locked eyes with the stranger, him being red in the face as he avoided contact with your neighbours.

A day must’ve passed, Jason kept thinking about what happened the day before. The entertainment was often. Something by had been happening almost everyday since you moved in.

‘Fuck’ Jason gasped as he saw water coming from his ceiling.

There was a sudden knock on the door, Jason went over and opened it. Only to see you, red in the face and seemingly flushed.

‘Hey, so sorry to bother you. I have a burst pipe and had to shut off my water before it gets worse, just wanted to ask if you have any damage?’ You asked, Jason nodded a little.

‘It just started pissing down, I thought it might be from upstairs’ Jason smiled a little.

You sighed a little as you revealed the wrench in your hand, probably from doing work.

‘I’m so sorry, I hope it didn’t cause too much. I’m happy to pay for any damage’ you offered, Jason shaking his head.

‘No, no it’s fine really. I needed to paint my ceilings. This has just given me some motivation’ Jason joked as the two of you laughed.

‘I realised I never really introduced myself, I’m y/n, I live in 13b’ you held out your hand, Jason shook your hand with a polite smile.

‘Jason, 12b’

You sat on Jason’s couch as he gave you a beer, the two of you got to know each other a little better. Jason told you about the man that used to live in your apartment.

You felt sad when you heard how the man turned out, but happy to know Jason helped him.

The dreaded realisation that the walls are very thin, Jason had heard the ordeal from a few nights ago.

‘He is my ex boyfriend, he slept around and hit me a few times. I moved to get away from him, but he found me’ you revealed, the clothes that belonged to him were what was left over from months before.

Reggie, your ex boyfriend, showed up on your doorstep without any warning, asking for you to take him back. You of course refused.

Jason’s lighting in his apartment was great, it seemed romantic and like a typical bachelor pad. Or a Chad pad.

Jason didn’t seem to have girls or guys going in and out all the time, truth be told, Jason didn’t mention a partner.

It was a few more weeks, the two of you met up a couple more times to hang out. Netflix documentary, movies, drinks.

The two of you began going to bars together, going to movies together. Jason even started taking you to his gym.

You became friends quickly, but Jason still didn’t seem a type to run in people’s beds.

It was refreshing, most of your guy and girl friends always seemed to just want a night of fun with a stranger.

You’d only ever slept with someone that you knew well enough, someone you were dating. That of course, changed quickly one night.

‘Come in, let’s have some more drinks’ Jason slurred, the two of you going inside his apartment for some more drinks.

You both had already had one too many, but why not? You’re home now.

Music playing, not too loud of course as you had neighbours. Drinks, laughing, with the occasional touching of each others skin.

Jason wrapped his arms around you as he gave you a warming hug, you smiled into the hug. The drinks already taking over your system.

The night seemed a bit blurry, but it didn’t matter as it’s morning now.

Shuffling a little, dry mouth from the antics of drinking anything but water, eyes blurry for a few seconds as you felt confused.

Black bedding, you don’t own any black bedding…yet here you were, in black bedding.

‘Oh shit’ you gasped, turning to see Jason fast asleep. Next to you, in his bed.

You screamed internally, realising what you’d done, the two of you had obviously been drinking to the point you both got horny.

‘Oh, good morning’ Jason said, almost as a question as his eyes locked with yours.

‘Morning’ you smiled slightly, Jason looked to see you were both in his bed, neither of you had any clothes on.

The two of you didn’t know what to make of it, the past few days you would go out of your way to avoid Jason. He seemed to be doing the same.

It got awkward too much, you felt you couldn’t just not speak to him again.

‘Can we talk?’ You asked, standing at Jason’s door.

Jason stepped aside and let you in, you feeling like your heart was going to jump out of your chest.

‘Beer?’ Jason asked, handing you one as he opened his and took a big sip.

‘I can’t keep ignoring you, I don’t feel bad about what happened. I just wanted to understand your thoughts’ you said, hesitation.

You still took into account Jason is gay too, but you may not be his type. Though, you couldn’t lie about Jason definitely being yours.

Jason took your hand in his as he nodded a little, eyes looking deep into yours.

‘I don’t feel bad, I wanted to ask you about your thoughts’ Jason admitted.

Seems Jason had the same problem as you, thinking maybe he wasn’t your type. You being his though.

The two of you laughed as you both realised you were getting closer, not just as friends.

Jason leant in as he kissed you, you smiled as you pulled him in.

Jason made it official, asking you for an official date. Not wanting it to be a case of the two of you just going to the bedroom all the time.

The two of you wanted to try and make it work, taking your time with everything. Even though Jason pointed out the two of you had already had sex.

Hands holding hands down the street, still living in separate apartments, Jason kissed your head as he felt thankful to have met you. Thankful to have had that drunken night to gain the courage to take a leap.

The two of you were happy the way it was at the moment, not wanting to rush into the bigger steps, but love was blooming quickly and surely.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Fuck It Friday It’s Saturday what if i try to just write a whole fic right here in a tumblr post

Okay Brick from the future here after i have indeed written a fic right here in a tumblr post, warning for some homophobia (described past high school experiences from Eddie). Based on this post. Have not reread it at all before hitting post so good luck hopefully it’s more or less cohesive

Was tagged in fuck it Friday by uh somebody probably but i can’t find it in my notes. Tagging — oh it’s like 11 o clock, so this can be for seven sentence Sunday? — @bigfootsmom @iinryer @shitouttabuck @chronicowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @queerdiazs @butchdiaz @homerforsure

The music is turned down low now, because it’s late, and even though the sprawling backyard of the ranch house is far, far away from any neighbors the event coordinators were still firm about a noise curfew and it would be a shame for such a lovely wedding to end with a visit from some of Athena’s coworkers. Most of the lights in the house are off or dimmed — beds and couches littered with the young and the old and the drunk — so the only lights out here are the strings of fairy lights and little jars with bulbs in the lid that remind Buck of sneaking out to the park with Maddie to catch lightning bugs back in Pennsylvania. The murky light and the quiet make everything feel soft as Buck stands on the porch, bare feet on creaky wood. He’s not sure where his shoes got off to, removed at some point when the dancing had started to pinch his heels. His throat burns a little from all the talking — and maybe that last vodka sour — and his eyes sort of itch from all the crying earlier. (Eddie had frowned at him, three of his fingers pressed into his elbow, as Buck had wept through the ceremony. A clear are you okay? And Buck had only nodded, because talking would have been rude, and despite everything that might make it seem otherwise, he really was.) He thinks Eddie might be the only person left here that he knows, the rest of the 118 departing in the last hour or two, though he’s not sure where he is, either. Maybe the same place as his shoes.

“Buck.”

Not with his shoes, then. Buck watches as Eddie stumbles towards him across the lawn from wherever he’d been. Dancing, maybe. He’s sweaty, his cheeks are cheerfully pink and he’s grinning with all his teeth showing. Buck steps down into the grass to meet him. “Hey, Eds.”

“Hello,” Eddie says, soft and pleased. He looks all over Buck’s face, over his now disheveled suit with the jacket hanging on the railing behind him and down at his missing shoes. Eddie frowns at that. “Your feet’ll get cold.”

Buck wiggles his toes in the dewy lawn. “I’ll be okay.” When he looks back up Eddie has an expression on his face that he can’t quite read but has been frequently present, lately. And then there’s a laugh across the yard, and both turn to look. Tommy. Loud, and full of that kind of breathless, disbelieving joy that- well, Buck hadn’t really heard from him before recently.

“I don’t-” Eddie stops, and Buck watches out of the corner of his eye as he shakes his head, looks up at Buck. “How are you just okay with this?”

Buck tilts his head almost sideways as he turns back to look at him. “It’s true love, man. How could I be upset with that?”

Eddie doesn’t roll his eyes, but Buck can tell he wants to. “I don’t even know- if that even exists. You gotta- you work on it. Or… I don’t know. He just saw this fucking guy across a crowded bar, and, what, fucking bam, Cupid’s arrow?”

“There’s a little more history than that,” Buck protests, even though, yeah, that is kind of what happened. They’d been at a club over in WeHo and Tommy had stopped frozen-dead in his tracks on the way from the dance floor to the bar, staring with some combination of awe-fear-grief-anger-longing all over his face at some guy, around Tommy’s age or maybe a little older, sandwiched between two big jock types all grinding on each other, one of them sucking an impressive hickey onto his shoulder next to the strap of his tastefully tight tank top. Tommy had stumbled closer like a man bewitched, and had gasped out “Sal?” In a way that had made Buck think, Ah. Time’s up. He’d lingered a respectful distance back as the two of them had an intense little conversation, though the club was loud enough he probably wouldn’t have heard much if he’d come closer. And he went home with Tommy that night and sat on his bed as he’d paced around his little bedroom and talked about years shitty jokes and stupid, over performed masculinity, and wanting, and “-the last I heard he was fucking married, I’ve met Sandra, he has two kids-”, and when Tommy got a phone call the next day — an invitation to lunch, to talk — he’d looked at Buck and said “I’m so sorry- I’m so sorry, but I-” and Buck had kissed his cheek and said “Go.” And, now, not even quite three months later, a wedding. The whole 118 had been invited, and had gone mostly in solidarity to Buck, and everybody had been making a lot of meaningful eye contact over their drinks as he’d elbowed them to quit it.

“Dance with me.”

“What?” Buck blinks back to the present, feet in the grass, Eddie warm and close next to him.

“Dance with me, Buckley,” Eddie sighs, dramatic, petulant, a smile shining through his put upon attitude. He’s been cutting it up all night, spinning Karen around and around, dancing with Sal’s mostly cordial ex-wife and sisters and aunts and cousins. He even took Tommy for a turn at one point, while Buck had busied himself with downing whatever was in the glass Ravi handed him so he wouldn’t have to look at either of their faces.

“I’ll step on your toes,” Buck warns, turning fully towards him and vaguely holding up his hands for Eddie to do whatever it is that needs to happen to make the dancing start.

Eddie snorts, moves one of Buck’s hands to his shoulder and holds the other, and taps his shiny dress shoe very gently into Buck’s big toe. “Do your worst.”

Buck, historically, by any metric you care to measure by, is a terrible dancer. Bobby, who himself only manages the old man party shuffle, has looked on his lack of rhythm in abject despair. Eddie, though, Eddie can dance, and he does it so well it makes his dancing partner’s look good, too. They move through the grass halfway competently, movements kind-of smooth. Buck only feels polished leather under his feet once or twice. “You’re real good at this.”

Eddie nods as he pulls Buck into a little spin. “Took lessons, back in high school.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” He’s staring at Buck’s shoulder. “Sophia had lessons I had to drive her to, one of the instructors mentioned classes for older kids.” He shrugs. “Seemed fun.”

“In high school?” Something about the question makes Eddie’s shoulders get a little tight, but he nods. “And you played baseball? Damn, I never knew how anybody could have multiple extra curriculars, I barely made every football practice as it is.”

Eddie shrugs again, eyes still fixed on rumpled cotton. “I liked it.” Step, step, step, spin. “Took Shannon a few times, but she didn’t really like the structure of it, just wanted to get to the dancing part.” A little smile. “You bet I gave her shit when she got a leg cramp line dancing one time. Shoulda stretched.”

Buck laughs. “Did you stretch before coming here?”

“Yeah.”

Buck laughs harder, throwing his head back. They’re far enough out of the city that there are stars in the sky, and he gets distracted looking up at them for a moment, finding any constellation he knows. When he looks back down Eddie’s staring at his shoulder again.

“I could dance because of the baseball,” he says, quiet. “Because… Shannon, and I played sports, and I… you know.” He looks up at Buck, eyes dark away from any bright light. “I could laugh it off. When people said it was gay. Because I wasn’t.”

“Oh,” Buck says. He doesn’t know what else to say, about the reminders of what high school was like in the aughts, or about the past tense. He thinks maybe he should apologize, but Eddie keeps talking.

“Not in like a- I wasn’t tortured about it. I didn’t even think about it. It was- that’s not- it wasn’t even a possibility.” His palm sweats against Buck’s and his other hand burning against his side, and still they keep dancing, never losing the beat of the song. “One time… Aaron Dewitt called me a… you know. And everybody just started laughing, because, like. Man. That’s Eddie, he was just making out with his girlfriend under the bleachers, what the fuck are you on about.” He smiles, all wrong, and the way his voice gets lighter isn’t very light at all. “All those guys were begging me for moves before senior prom.”

“Eddie-”

“Buck!” Tommy stumbles in from the side, not even waiting for Eddie to retreat so his arm ends up awkwardly trapped between them as he plasters himself to Buck, hands on either his side of his face. He’s had a lot of champagne tonight, as Buck thinks is his right, and it’s made him unsteady on his feet in a way he knows most other drinks don’t. It’s the sugar, he’d said once. Goes right to my head. “Buck.”

“Hi,” Buck laughs a little, smelling the drink on his breath. “Hey, Tommy.”

“I love you,” Tommy says, sincere and eyes watering. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for- for everything. I didn’t- I never thought I’d get to have this.”

Buck thinks that he’s practically glowing, has been all night, getting even more supernova bright every time his now-husband touches his arm or side or back or anywhere and smiles a private little smile at him. “I’m really glad you do, Tommy. Love you, too.”

Tommy kisses his cheek, a little slobbery. “We’re gonna leave now, but I just wanted to say bye. I hope you had a good time. Sorry for- or- thank you-”

“I had a wonderful time,” Buck says, releasing Tommy from drunkenly trying to find an end to that sentence. They’ve had some version of this conversation several times already, Tommy always guilty and happy in dizzying little circles, and Buck hopes he can bury the guilt in the soft dirt they’re standing on and go on to live with just the happiness. “Have a great night.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, laughing and nodding. “Yeah. Bye, Buck.”

“Bye, Tommy.”

They watch him hurry back across the yard, falling into Sal’s arms with the easy confidence of someone who knows without a doubt that he’ll be caught. Eddie’s arm is still across Buck’s chest where it had been stuck.

“I know you’ve said you’re fine with it-”

“About a thousand times, yeah, to you and everybody else we know-”

“Come on, man.” Eddie shifts his arm a little, up, so he can grab and shake Buck’s shoulder. The angle they’re standing at has caught the light, and Eddie’s eyes are gold again. “It’s me. Are you okay with this?

Buck thinks about high school, and all the things he didn’t think about either right up until Tommy Kinard kissed him in the kitchen. He thinks about Hen’s sky high eyebrows when she heard the news, and her and Chimney’s stories about the bad old days and the kind of person Sal seemed to be. He thinks about change, and how much it can happen to a person and how quickly, and how you just have to trust, sometimes, that people have grown and learned. He thinks about Eddie, and things that are impossible, and dancing, and- he laughs, sudden and loud enough that Eddie startles, because, fuck. This is exactly how it happened in the club, too. Seeing someone you know like the back of your hand in a new light and- bam.

When the laughter calms in his throat, Buck looks down at Eddie. “Really, I swear I’m fine with it. I had a really nice time with Tommy. He was… kind, and safe, and patient. I really liked him- I really like him. I hope I keep getting, you know, Christmas cards or whatever. I’m really happy he got his romcom ending. I mean- I kind of wish it was with a guy who doesn’t seem so much like an asshole-” Buck grins as Eddie snorts, “-but, uh, Hen says judging your exes taste in men is, like, a gay right of passage or something, so.”

Eddie nods once, twice, and then his eyes get a little wide, the way they do when he’s being brave. “So then, what does it mean if I’m judging Tommy for you?”

“He’s your friend, too,” Buck protests past the way his heart is thudding in his chest, because Tommy deserves defending here, probably. He kicks softly at Eddie’s shin. “You came to the wedding, don’t-”

“You’re not my ex,” Eddie says. He steps backward, and again, and they’re dancing again. “So. Still a right of passage?”

Buck’s palms are sweating, now. “You’ve never liked my taste in women, either.”

Eddie makes an unconvincing noise of denial. “I… thought…”

“Yeah?” Buck raises an eyebrow, and Eddie’s face twitches with how hard he’s trying not to grin.

“That… Ali… was fine.”

Buck cackles, and Eddie pulls him in closer and laughs into his collarbone. “You were so judgy when she dumped me, are you kidding, your fucking stink face every time-”

“You’re not my ex,” Eddie says again, loud, getting them back on track, standing upright but not moving any further away. They’re pressed together chest to knee. “Buck.”

“Yeah?”

They spin in a slow circle. “I’m pretty good at dancing, and- probably not so good at baseball anymore, but- well I dunno, maybe. We could go to a batting cage sometime. Anyway.” Spin and spin. “I guess I… do think about it, now. I think about- and there were a lot of things I thought were impossible, and weren’t, really. And- and I’m not in high school, and…” They slow, and stop, and Buck thinks Eddie’s hands and eyes are, probably, the warmest things on the whole entire planet. “We could go home and I could wait till tomorrow to ask you to lunch to talk about things, but we’re both already here.”

Buck laughs, and wonders if anyone listening to him would hear a kind of breathless, disbelieving joy. “You wanna take me to lunch?”

“Mhm. I was thinking we could get sandwiches.”

Buck laughs, and laughs, almost falling over with it, but that’s fine. He knows Eddie will catch him.

[darling-i-read-it]

Blueberry Cupcake

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: couple dirty jokes lol but otherwise nothing! Maybe some self confidence issues? 

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry this took so long love! I hope you like it <3 

Requested: by anon, Your pined post says request open! ❤️ Could I request Steve harrington x reader,  where the reader shows up to scoops ahoy as often as possible just to talk to him/try to get the courage to ask him out?

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“You are going to die at these new flavors.” Steve’s lips were curled into a smile as he leaned against the counter when you approached. There was a light on his face but his hair was dimmed by the required hat. You raised an eyebrow. 

“I’ve only been gone a week,” you argued. He shook his head. 

“The Scoops Ahoy Gods have been here since the last time you were,” he explained. The shop was otherwise empty aside from stragglers. It was only Steve at the front this afternoon, a slow day at the ice cream counter. It was drizzling outside and the rest of Hawkins had decided to stay inside. You couldn’t blame them. You almost skipped the trip to the mall today. Saving money and being cozy in bed was an alluring daydream. The look in Steve’s eyes made you happy you had come though. He was the only reason you got out of bed that particular morning and put on some half decent clothes. It was always more exciting to get dressed with the prospect of seeing someone who might appreciate the clothes. 

“Well?” You gestured to the ice cream. 

“This one, is lemon cookie.” He made a face like he was melting, hands dragging down his cheeks in an exaggerated manner. You giggled, shaking your head. “This one-” he paused for effect, “-blueberry cupcake. Actual cupcake pieces in it.” You nodded slowly as he went down the line of new flavors. They all seemed good, aside from a couple random ones. But you never really came here for the ice cream. Regardless, to appease him, you picked one of the new ones and stood there as you tasted it. 

“Positively delightful,” you promised. He smiled brightly. 

“I knew you would love it. You’re my most loyal customer.” 

“Erica Sinclair out of town or something?” 

“You’re my favorite customer,” he said with an eye roll.

“Just because Dustin Henderson is still at summer camp.” 

“Stop arguing with me and take the compliment.” You nodded, a soft smile on your face. You leaned against the counter to the side, just in case someone wanted to come in and grab a scoop. 

“No Robin today?” 

“Nope. They shoved me out here all by my lonesome.” 

“You need to learn the priority of self confidence, Steve Harrington.” 

“I have self confidence. Plenty of it.” A girl approached, probably a little older than you. You didn’t recognize her and you knew you would’ve. She had a gorgeous head of braided hair, along with a dazzling, kind, approachable smile. The sight of her made your heart sink. Steve moved to the counter once more. 

“Good afternoon milady,” he said, smoothly. “Care to join me on this adventure of flavors?” You rolled your eyes and moved aside. To your surprise, she laughed. You breathed sharply through your nose. Usually he just got an eyebrow raised with that line. 

“I would love to. Got any favorites?” 

“I have many but not one compares to you.” Her smile grew at the flattery. You rolled your eyes and took a bitter bite of your ice cream. 

You had been coming to the mall for Steve. But he was never here to see you. He was here to do his job and flirt with girls. You aren’t special because he flirts with you when you’re around. You missed Robin and her even keeled voice, the one that would promise you he had struck out with every other girl in Hawkins. 

You took a deep breath and tossed your ice cream. It wasn’t that good anyway. You didn’t even bother a wave as you left, leaving his voice to drown out as you got further away. Suddenly the rainy weather was only furthering your solemn mood. 

-

Despite your better intentions, you returned to Scoops Ahoy a couple of days later. Robin had called you the day before to complain about him and you were all too happy to oblige in her distaste. You were happy to see her at the counter when you approached. It was a little busier today but there was no line. 

“Hey,” she said evenly as you approached. “Long time no talk.” You opened your mouth to retort back when the back door opened. 

“Where have you been?” Steve questioned, pushing the back door open with force. Your eyes went wide in mock annoyance. 

“School. Working. Why?” 

“You haven’t come in,” he explained, approaching the back of the counter. 

“It’s not like I was talking to her or anything,” Robin said, rolling her eyes. She jutted her elbow onto the counter, watching him with a slight form of amusement. 

“You can talk to her whenever,” Steve grumbled. “What happened? We didn’t even finish our conversation the other day.” Suddenly, in the presence of his puppy dog eyes, you felt kind of silly. You had left him without saying anything and hadn’t mentioned it. You were slightly surprised he had even brought it up. You would’ve let it move past silently, content in not knowing why the slight awkwardness had happened. 

“I had to leave,” you explained. It was weak but nothing else came to mind. “I had to go back home,” you tried. He furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Okay. Well next time let me know, alright?” You nodded gently, happy to let the situation go. 

“What are you having?” Robin questioned. You looked at the flavors and Steve remained with an eager look.

“How about the lemon cookie?” Steve’s easy smile returned and he nodded once before trying to talk to the customer behind you. Robin gave you a look that said, you folded too easily. You shrugged. He would have gotten you out of it sooner or later. 

-

The next day it rained again. You were busy with college work, knee deep in homework. You were barely able to look up, let alone go and visit Steve. For the time being you were attempting to distance yourself from him, for the sake of both of you. You couldn’t pine for him forever when he clearly just saw you as a friend. The schoolwork was a worthy distraction. 

You didn’t hear the phone ringing until it had been going for forty five seconds. 

“Will you get that?” your roommate called from the other side of the building. You looked up, only to the sound of her voice. You were finally aware of the incessant ringing. You moved your papers aside and finally found the phone. You picked it up, finger wrapping around the cord. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey! I hope you don’t mind, Robin gave me your number.” You were stunned into silence. Steve was calling you. Despite him giving you the reason he had your number, it still took you a moment to pull together any kind of information. “Hello?”

“Hi! Sorry, cut out for a second. What can I do for you Steve?” 

“I know it’s raining but I thought you could come keep me company,” he suggested. “It’s really lonesome by myself in the Scoopys Ahoy this afternoon.” You pursed your lips. Was he asking you to hang out for ulterior motives? Or was he really just bored and you were the first person to come to mind? How had he asked Robin for your number? Why hadn’t she told you? Your silence was not a green flag to him. “Or not. I’m sure you’re busy-”

“No, sorry I’m still in study brain.” 

“Ah the good old study brain. I know him well.” You rolled your eyes. 

“What time does your shift end?”

“Four.” 

“Well then I will be by before then.” You could practically see the smile on his face at his cheerful answer. 

“Okay cool. Sick. See you then.” 

“See you then Steve.” You hung up the phone quickly, squinting at it. You didn’t know what his intention was but you didn’t exactly like it. You looked back down at your school work, deciding to abandon it as you went to find an outfit. 

-

Steve was still holding the phone when you hung up. He could hear the dial tone but he couldn’t bring himself to put it down.

“Well?” Robin asked, eyebrows raised and wide eyed. 

“She said she’s coming by before my shift ends,” he explained. Robin nodded. 

“That’s good. When I see her I’ll hide in the back.” Steve finally put the phone down and swallowed hard. Usually he was okay with this type of thing. Flirting, asking people out, getting rejected. But he knew he would miss you coming to see him if you said no. He knew you would stop coming if there was some sort of awkward barrier between the two of you. He didn’t want that. 

But he wanted you. 

He cleared his throat and nodded. 

“What am I supposed to say again?” Behind Robin’s head was the white board, taunting him with rejections. He had thought it was funny when she did it but now it seemed like a slap in the face. 

“Ask her to hang out after your shift. That’s all.” Robin crossed her arms. This was harder than she thought it was going to be. You liked him, he liked you, how could you not get together? Clearly it was taking some pushing on both ends though. She better be invited to the wedding. 

“When do you think she’ll come?”

“Before your shift ends dingus,” she muttered, shaking her head. She returned to the counter as a customer approached. Steve was left alone in the back room with his thoughts and doubts. Everytime you came to see him it was like every light in the room had brightened. He thought about losing that, about losing you. Would you laugh in his face, like every other girl he talked to here? He couldn’t bear it. This was an awful idea. His stomach churned. He pushed open the door and hoped they would get so busy, he would forget you were even coming. 

-

At 3:30 you finally arrived. You felt like your body was sagging with all the information in your head weighing it down. You had been distracted by homework even while you got ready, thinking about all the things that could go wrong this week. It made this thing with Steve seem less important, so you could worry about it less. But now that you were here, you could feel the nerves settling back into your stomach. 

Steve was behind the counter. He stood up straight when he noticed it was you. 

“Hey,” he breathed. 

“Hey,” you said back, a small smile on your face. “Why isn’t Robin working today?” you questioned. They were typically shift partners. She hadn’t mentioned going out somewhere that would warrant her taking an unprecedented day off. 

Steve, knowing full well Robin was in the back, shrugged. 

“They thought I could handle it by myself.” You raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re moving up in the world, Harrington. Are you the manager yet?” 

“You know no one would let that happen,” he argued. He moved over to the ice cream. “This one’s on me but I get to choose.” You nodded once. 

“I’ll take that.” He hoped no one else would come for the last hour. Should he just ask you now? The words seemed daunting. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears. He had literally fought monsters, why was this the thing to take him out? He scooped you some blueberry cupcake and handed it over. “Thanks.” 

“How’s studying?” 

“Draining,” you admitted without a beat. “I can only hold so much in my brain at once.” He remembered his days of essay writing which didn’t help his confidence in the moment. 

“They should invent pillows you can stick information into.”

“That’s a million dollar idea, Harrington. You should trademark that.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” 

“We can figure it out together over a lot of ice cream.” You briefly wondered if this was going to be his job in the fall too. Would he leave for school then? How far would he go? 

“I like that.” He cleared his throat. “You know, we could see each other when I’m not on the clock too.” You took a bite of your ice cream, listening intently. Your eyes remained on him. He tried not to quiver under your wide eyed gaze. “Like if you have nothing going on today…” You caught on. You swallowed your ice cream to ignore your breath hitching. 

“Like a date?” 

He shrugged as nonchalantly as he was able to. 

“If you want.” 

“I would like that,” you admitted. “Are you just asking me because none of the other girls coming into Scoops Ahoy have given you the time of day?” He tried not to wince. 

“I’m asking because I want to,” he said honestly. “And Robin held me at knife point. I think she’s tired of us dancing around…whatever this is.” 

Whatever this is?! 

He could feel it too? You thought it was entirely one sided, fueled by your delusions. You couldn’t help but smile. 

“I’ll have to thank her next time I see her.” You pulled up a stool to sit on the side of the counter, allowing you to continue talking. “You have a place in mind?”

“We could go wherever you wanted. Grab food, hell we could go to the arcade if you wanted.” You laughed gently. 

“I think I’ll pass on the arcade right now. But I wouldn’t mind an entree to go with my dessert.” 

-

The nerves wore off quickly once you both realized you were on the same page. You sat on the stool in the back, the few magazines on the table keeping you company while Steve dealt with customers. You poked at your blueberry cupcake ice cream as you turned the pages. 

The divider window opened up. You raised your head. 

“Nice hat,” Steve said. You had forgotten you stole his work hat, which was sitting very gracefully atop your head. 

“Thanks.”

“Everyone’s gone.” 

“Then come back here,” you said, gesturing to the empty room. 

“You’re too distracting when I'm back there with you alone. I need supervision.” Robin made a gagging noise, though you couldn't see her. You smiled sheepishly and got up, pushing the magazine aside. 

“You know you could hang out after he gets off right?”

“We hang out during me getting o-”

“Shut up. Shut up.” Robin covered her ears and walked into the back room. You laughed at the sly attempt at a joke. Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer. You were glad you had stolen his hat. He looked much better without it. 

“She’s right. I think we’re feeding into codependency.”

“Our relationship was built on the foundation of you coming to see me while I work.” 

“That was because I didn’t see you after work.” His fingers held onto yours. He smiled down at them, like a prized possession. 

“I like to maximize my time.” 

Robin gagged in the back again.