#WE ARE GETTING THIS GODDAMNED MOVIE SO HELP ME GOD

[dectech]

THE EDGE OF SLEEP HAS LEFT THE TOP TEN.

I REPEAT: THE EDGE OF SLEEP HAS LEFT THE TOP TEN.

[itwoodbeprefect]

happy 1 year anniversary to the election results that were so fucked they had me trying to take my mind off of things by watching what seemed like a toxic chinese queerbait show only to find something far more thoughtful and genuinely queer and interesting than expected and end up watching a bunch more unrelated things that are talked about in vaguely the same realms of the internet and then watch bad buddy twice in a row and fall into an endless bingewatch of thai media (some of which is mediocre, some of which is bad, much of which is simply pretty good, and some of which is genuinely incredible) and go, well, it would be a waste of all this language input i'm accidentally giving myself right now if i didn't at least learn a few words. thus accidentally locking myself into watching even more thai media because now i gain serotonin from hearing a sentence i know i could write

[rbfclassy]

QUICKIE! — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...toji just can’t keep his hands to himself after not fucking you for a week...which results in a quickie

INFO...toji x fem!reader, reader and toji have kids, toji calls reader mama, doggy, groping, spanking, missionary (?), praise, cream pie, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

“Hey do you have anything to wash?” You walked up to Toji holding the laundry basket in your hands as he played with your two kids.

He looked up at you from the floor. “Nah, I’m all set, mama.” He smiled, handing your son his favorite toy. With a nod, you walked away with the full basket, heading towards the laundry room. You sighed at the clean pile of clothes that you had to fold, rolling your eyes in annoyance.

You threw the dirty clothes in the wash before grabbing the detergent. You let out a small squeak at the feeling of your husbands hands snaking around your waist. “You scared me,” you chuckled.

“Sorry,” he responded, pulling you against his chest, sinking his head into the crook of your neck. He placed a small kiss on your skin, hands rubbing up and down your waist. “Should’ve asked me for help.”

You closed the detergent, placing it back on the shelf as you started the washer. “It’s fine, I got it,” you replied. Toji hummed in response, his hands moving lower and lower down your body. “Toji, what are you doing?” You giggled.

You tried to turn and face him but he kept you from doing so. “Uh uh, stay just like this for me,” he whispered. He pushed his hips against your ass, his cock semi-hard. “We haven’t been able to do anything for the past week. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little pent up, and you walking around with these shorts and tank top isn’t helping one bit.” He smacked your ass before giving it a harsh squeeze.

You bit down on your bottom lip, feel him grow more hard as you moved your against him. It was true, you and Toji haven’t had sex in the last week or so. Both of you so tired from work and the kids, running errands, it always got in the way of your sex life. You hadn’t really thought about it much before, but now that Toji brought it up, you were feeling quite pent up too. “So, what’re you gonna do about it, hm?” You asked, teasingly.

A low chuckle left his lips, his fingers grazing over your skin, making their way under the fabric of your clothes. His hands came up to your chest, cupping your tits and squeezing them, groping them. Your skin started to heat up and arousal pooled in your panties. Just his touch alone was enough to get you all hot and bothered. “We gotta be quick.” He hurriedly bent you over the washer, a swift hand pulling your shorts and underwear down. “I’ll never get tired of seeing this ass…fuck,” he groaned. He palmed himself through his sweats, admiring the view of your dripping cunt.

Toji wasted no time in pulling his sweats and boxers down, cock springing free and leaking pre cum. He let out a shaky breath, rubbing his tip up and down your slit, mixing his arousal with yours. He could already feel how warm and wet you were, cock throbbing at the thought, anticipating how you feel around him. Slowly, his head pushed past your entrance, your lips wrapping around him, sucking him in. “Ohhh fuck, baby—mmm shit,” he breathed. His hands grabbed your hips, pulling you back on him, going deeper to reach your sweet spot.

“Ah, oh my god.” The stretch was so deliciously intoxicating, sending your brain into a spiral and he’s barely moved yet. “Baby, we gotta be quick, please,” you begged, afraid that one of the kids might knock on the door and interrupt. You felt him thrust slowly, letting you get used to the feel of his cock before going any faster.

“Shhh, it’s fine. They’re watching a movie.” He began pulling you back against his hips so you met his thrusts, your walls clenching around him each time he threatened to pull out. “This pussy is so wet for me, goddamn,” he grunted, moving faster.

“F-fuck!” You stammered, feeling how hard and fast he was going. “Feels so fucking good!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, hands gripping onto the edges of the washing machine as you tried to hold yourself stable. “Nnngh! You’re so deep! Oh my god!” You squealed.

Toji pulled you up, your back pressed against his chest as he continued to pound into you. “Shh, mama. I know it feels good, but you gotta keep quiet for me, okay?” He placed his hand over your mouth, his arm wrapped around your waist to hold you steady. Your eyes fluttered shut, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. “Ohh fuck yes. Shit, this pussy feels so fucking good.”

Your muffled moans fell upon deaf ears, your legs felt like they were jelly. Pleasure clouded your mind, all you could think about was him fucking you until you came over and over again. Suddenly, he stopped. He grabbed your hips, turning you around and lifting you on top of the washing machine. He pulled you close to the edge, your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. Both watched as he slowly slid back inside, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he felt you wrap around him again. “Look at me, don’t take your eyes off me,” he demanded.

You stared back at him with lustful eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fought so hard to hold back your moans and whimpers. Your brows furrowed in pleasure, feeling how close you were to cumming. Your jaw dropped, head falling back as he grazed over your g-spot. “Oh fuck you’re gonna make me cum!” You cried, gasping for air. “Fuck! Fuck! Baby!” You whimpered.

“I know, mama. Let it all out for me. Cum on this dick.” He kept his pace the same, feeling you clench around him, a sign you were close. His hand wrapped around your neck, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, tongues messily moving against each other as he swallowed your moans. Finally, the coil snapped. You pulled away from the kiss, eyes rolling back, body quivering as you came. Toji covered your mouth again, muffling your curses and moans. “There you go, that’s my good fucking girl.”

He pulled his hand away, staring back at you with half lidded eyes, loving the cum drunk look written all over your face. “Cum in me,” you spoke.

“But, your not on—”

“I don’t care, cum in me,” you said with desperation.

“I fucking love you,” he chuckled with a smile, his thrusts growing sloppier. He was fixated the way his cock disappeared in you, each time he pulled back out he could see your cum at the base. It only drove him more crazier. “Nnngh, ah! Oh, baby I’m gonna cum!” His hips stuttered against yours before he buried himself deep inside of you, feeling him coat your walls with his sticky cum. “Fuck!” He grunted. “Ah, yes!” He breathlessly chuckled.

“I think we both needed that,” you laughed.

“I agree.” He smiled, pulling you closer to place his lips on yours. He slowly pulled out, his cum slowly dripping out of you. “We made quite a mess.” He looked down between your legs and then back up at you.

“We’ll clean it up—”

A knock on the door startled both on you, thankfully Toji had locked the door. “Mommy, daddy, the movie is over! We wanna watch another!”

“It’s your bedtime, sweetheart! Maybe tomorrow!” Toji shouted back. Both of you looked at each other, sharing a few seconds of silence before laughing. “I think we might have to start doing quickies more often, yeah?” He whispered.

“Once you put the kids to sleep, meet me in the shower.” You kissed his lips, entangling your fingers in his hair.

“I just can’t get enough of you, mama.”

[bluetimeombre]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐨L 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐢e

Deadpool and Wolverine but your lady pool and an absolute SLUT for Wolverine.

[this is a complete self insert with just everything I was thinking about during the movie and since then I’ve watched it three times. It gets better every time. Snippets of the movie, will probably do a part two. SPOILERS!]

part two

Warning/disclaimer: femreaderxwolverine, sexual content, sexual language, offensive language, just being a whore the man, cursing, repeat daddy issues, never proof-read.

After digging up Logan and expecting to find a shirtless and oiled-up Hugh Jackman, you were a little more than disappointed to find the bones and metal. 'Damn it! Shit! Fuck! They Les Mis'd him!'

Eventually, you settled down next to the remains, against the same log that had impaled him. 'That was weird,' you chuckled. 'I'm much calmer now. Look, I'm not a woman in stem but you seem incredibly dead to me. Oh, you sexy lump of bones and metal. I would have let you slide them into me any day.'

'But it's good to see you,' you pat his knee. 'I gotta be honest, I've always wanted to ride you, Logan. Oh, whoops, I meant with you. Ha! Who am I kidding, no I didn't. Just you and me, getting into it. And I mean into it. Every style. Doggy. Sixty-nine. On the kitchen counter to the bathroom. Till my back broke. Yea, we'd have been good together.' You ranted, fantasies flying across your mind too quick to focus on one.

With your red-gloved hand, you jerk the chin. 'G'day mate, there's nothing that'll bring me back to life faster than a big bag of Marvel cash. Ha- I hear you, Hugh. But no, no, no, no you had to go and get all noble and die for real. I could really use your help right now. And a massage. Your big manly hands just rubbing all over me-'

Just as you were about to go into further detail about what you want him to do to you, the sound of portals opening and heavy boots stomping closer alerted you.

Quickly, you pulled the skeleton down on top of you.

'There are two hundred and six bones in the body. Two hundred and seven if i'm watching Van Helsing.'

Que the fucking montage.

You have a mission. Find a Logan to take back with you. First up you end up in a bar, catching an axe as it was thrown at you. 'Logan! I'm gonna need you to come with me.'

The Logan sitting at the bar slowly turned to you. 'Who's asking? ' He slipped from the bar stool to reveal a 5'3 Logan.

You coo. 'Well, who's this little ankle biter. Did you stick the landing little guy? Yes you did, comic-accurate short king. Such a cute little Wolvie.'

The little guy started stalking toward you.

'Que the fucking montage.'

You found a Wolverine for the seventies, or eighties, something close enough to that, one hand missing. 'Oh yea, sexy, you have anchor being written all over you.'

You found patch Logan. 'Oh hello, Patch. Should've worn my white suit.'

You found another old man Logan, sitting solemnly on his front porch. 'Howdy! Oh, I see, you're the daddy issues one. Good to see god has answered my prayers. So soldier, do I need to be a bad girl so you put me over your knee, daddy?'

Another was tied to a cross with red bloody skulls acting as a floor.

One was dressed in a tight yellow and brown suit, walking through the woods. 'Hubba hubba. Classic! Now, you fought the Hulk in this suit, right?' as he snicked his claws out, the green of the beast reflected from behind you. 'I am Marvel Jesus you dull creature and I will not be-'

One, your favourite, was working on a bike in a tight white vest and dark pants. You drooled. 'That's the whole goddamn package right there. You know from behind you look a bit- holy Shit!' he turned, and everything about him was Wolverine. Except for the fact he was Henry fucking Cavil. 'The Cavalry has arrived. The prophecy has been fulfilled. Can I say, sir, sorry, daddy- on behalf of all of humanity, this just feels right! We will treat you so much better than those shit fucks down the street!'

He took the cigar from his mouth, stalking to you. You had never been so aroused in your life. 'You were just leaving'

Giggling and twirling your hair, you hold a hand out, ghosting over his chest. 'Can I just, one- one touch. Oh my god! You're like Superman or something.'

He punched you right into the Logan you needed. Thank you Cavil.

'You two gonna fuck or fight?' asked the bartender. 'Both if i'm lucky,' you said.'

'Oh look at those sexy little jammies, that only took twenty fucking years!'

The trash heap was the last place you wanted to end up, but when you woke to Logan looming over you, a snarl on his face, you sighed in relief.

'Well, hello sexiest man alive, 2008. Wanna give me a hand? Or head?'

He sniked his claws out.

'Kinky! That's new for Disney!'

He dug his claws into your ribs and dragged you up with them. 'Where the fuck are we?'

'I dunno, but it looks a bit mad maxxy to me. But that would be IP infringement right?'

'Fucking jokes,' Logan uttered. He threw you over his leg, your back breaking.

'Till my back breaks, Wolvie!' you yelled out, quickly rolling yourself back up and shaking it off. 'Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm a big fan. How about we strip off our suits, take a tumble in the sand, get to know one another you know. Personally, I'm more of a cowgirl fan but I'm willing to do whatever you want baby.'

'You're unbelievable,' he grumbled. It was still sexy. He turned his back to you.

'Oh, I see, is that what you did when your world went to shit!'

He paused, his head slowly turning to you. 'Say again, bub?'

'Oh, I am so horny right now.'

The two of you engaged in a fight, and not the sexy stradling fight that would happen later, but the guns firing, swords slashing kind of fight. that was only interrupted by a familiar voice.

The only other voice that could have you dropping your panties as quick as Wolverine. He was hooded, hidden, but you knew him from your sex dreams.

'Dear god almighty, it's him.'

'Who?' growled Logan.

'Don't be jealous baby, I have two holes for a reason. Don't worry gorgeous, you're gonna encounter some delicate language, a smidge of ass play but we've been prohibited from using cocaine, at least on page.'

He raised a hand. 'They're coming.'

'Who's they?'

The three of you watch cars and trucks drive through the waste, keeping you trapped. There were familiar faces, Pyro, Toad. And Sabertooth.

The mysterious figure jumped down and mastered the superhero landing that had you clapping your hands and jumping up and down.

'Oh my god! Oh my god!' you held onto Logan's shoulder as you jumped while he just glared at you.

'I've got this,' the man takes down his hood, showing the beautiful, hot, strong, handsome, hubba-hubba worthy, Chris Evans.

'Oh yes, you do sexiest man alive, 2022!' you cheer.

'Stay close,' Chris- or Steve- called back to you.

You stalk over to him. 'Aye aye, Captain.' you wrap your arms around his stomach, fingers trailing over his abs. He removes you and you groan, sulking. You walk back to Wolverine and jump onto the side of his hip.

Instinctively he holds your ass which makes you giddy before he realises his mistake and drops you.

'You're not gonna love what happens next,' shouted the captain.

Your jaw dropped from behind the mask. 'Holy shit, omg! No way, he's gonna say it! He's gonna say it!' you flick one of your swords that was still poking out of Wolverine's chest. 'Avengers-'

'Flame on!' Steve- no, Johnny- yelled and took to the skies in a ball of fire.

It was sort of stupid in hind sight as Pyro lifted a hand and extinguished him, causing him to fall from the skies and go crotch first into a billboard.

'No!' you screamed, rushing to him and rolling onto his back to get a look at him. 'No, no baby, stay with me. Let me take a look!' you tried to pull down his pants but Logan literally pulled you off him.

You were tied up with Wolverine on the front side of you and Johnny on the back. When you woke, you giggled. 'Woah, just like my dreams.'

Johnny woke to, lifting his head from your shoulder. 'How long was I out?'

You smirk under the mask, looking back to him. 'Not all of you was asleep, say Cap, is that a Glock in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

'Is that Chuck? Hey Chuck, over here! Hope it's you young, god, we got James Macovy in this?' you yelled as a wheelchair rolled out as you entered the thing that was apparently large Paul Rudd.

'Cassandra Nova. Charles's twin,' the villain introduced herself.

'Holy shit,' said Logan.

'How was anal birth?' you asked.

Cassandra smirked. 'You two are cute. I have a good feeling about this.'

'Right!' you cheered. 'Just wait till this ends, the smut is off the charts!'

She took the chain from around the two of you but you wrapped yourself around Logan's arm, he only grunted at you. He only pushed you off when you started to go off and off about what Johnny said about Cassandra. 'People think i'm a shit talker but this guy-' you chef's kiss. 'Next level!'

Cassandra, with a flick of her hand, shed the skin from him as he fell in a heap of bones and blood and skin,

You cried out, holding onto Logan for dear life. 'My favourite Chris!'

'You silly little bitch, you just got him fucking killed!' yelled Logan.

'Fine, spank me then! P.S. Do you know what he was doing to the budget!'

You were brought to Ultimatum with Cassadra, Oliath or the other British villain, but all you wanted was to save your world, bang Wolvy and go home.

'I didn't want it to come to this, either you help us or my boyfriend here is gonna perform the whole of Greatest Showman as a one-man show,' you warn.

'I'm not her boyfriend,' Logan grumbled.

Cassandra went on a trauma dump that had you groaning. 'Couldn't you just turn into accomplishment like the rest of us?'

But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together.'

'Sorry lady, he's taken!'

'Not for long,' Cassandra smirked and as Logan attacked, she sent him in the ground and away from you. You only whined at his disappearance, a whine that turned into a groan when Cassandra's fingers entered you in the worst way possible. Through your head.

'What can I see here?' she asked. Cassandra gasped. 'Oh, you are a whore.'

Oh yes, she saw the million filthy things you wanted to do to Logan.

The two of you made it out and to the diner where Logan was intent on finding food and taking rubbing alcohol shots. When he sat across from you, chucking a tin of spam at you, you pulled of your mask.

Logan stilled, looking at you with finally something a little different than anger.

'What?' you asked.

'I thought you'd be ugly under there.'

'No- no, that's the Deadpool. I'm better, and a self-insert.'

The two of you took to walking through the rather nicer side of the waste. You had his hand in yours, swinging it happily like you were a couple before he threatened to chop your hand off.

'You said Logan was a hero, what happened?' he asked.

'You died. Technically you were chest fucked by a tree, but really you just ran out of batteries trying to save this girl- a kid really. Always wanted a man who's good with kids. The shit heels who grew her in a lab called her x-23, but she was just a kid. A smaller, cute and mean version of you. Yep, you saved her, very hero, very demure.'

The two of you were interrupted when a bark sounded over the hill and the BEST DOG EVER ran out to you, ears flapping in the wind, tongue out as it always was. The little boots. The collar. It was Dogpool.

You threw off your mask and picked her up, cuddling her close. 'She's coming with us.'

'No she's not!' he argued.

'Yes, she is!'

'No!'

You pulled out your puppy dog eyes and lifted the dog to your face and slowly the resolve in his face slipped.

'Sorry!' another man ran out, chasing after the dog.

'Fucking shit bag!' you cursed.

It was another dead pool, a good-looking one with long hair.

'What's Ryan Reynolds actually doing here, I thought I replaced him?' you said.

'In here everyone calls me Nicepool.'

'Can we have your dog?' you asked immediately.

He laughed. 'over my dead body!'

You nod, thinking about it but Logan holds out his arm before you can even move.

Whatever Nicepool was saying was you didn't care as you cooed and hugged the dog closer and Logan watched.

Fuck, he was paying attention to you.

'Why are you so nice?' you asked eventually.

'It costs nothing to be kind,' he said.

'Shutting the fuck up is also free,' said Logan.

You bite your lip in his direction. 'God I am so attracted to you right now. This is Logan, he's usually shirtless but he's let himself go since the divorce.'

Finally, the Nicepool took you to his ride to get you and Logan and the dog to the borderlands.

It was a honda fucking odyssey.

Logan wasn't willing to listen to your complaints. 'Get in the fucking car.'

'Make me, Daddy,' you said.

He took one step closer to you and you backed away with the dog. 'No, we're running away!'

Logan forced her from your arms and handed him back to the Nicepool.

'The corn was to dense girl!' you called after her, pouting.

Logan shoves you into the passenger seat while he takes the wheel.

You pull of your mask, hair falling around you like you were in an advert. 'So, what shall we do to pass the time...'

Honda Odyssey coming soon, that my friends, is called edging.

[irndad]

Hi hun! I just love love love your pieces <3

As for Carmy prompts - could we have some hurt to comfort when Carmen doesn't show up for a date? It's ok if you dont wanna do it or i requested incorrectly, but if you do, i cant wait to read!!!!! Thank you so much mwah mwah mwah

I’m not thaaaaaat sure how I feel about this and it’s so long but your request was so sweet I had to!!! Ily <3333

wc:1.1k

There’s so fucking much in his ear. Fak’s screaming whatever bullshit he’s sure will help absolutely nothing, Richie’s harassing Sydney and Tina’s trying to keep them all in line and will of that goddamn chaos, he shouldn’t be able to make out anything.

Prepping this whole thing, the opening, Richie biting his head off for fucking sending him to the best kitchen in the city- it’s all a bit fucking much.

He barely hears the door open (she has a key, because of course she does) and he doesn’t even look over his shoulder as he calls out her name.

“Hey, baby,” he yells back towards the entrance. It feels good, chopping the vegetables. It’s actually one of her favorite dishes that he’s making, and something inside him preens that he gets to feed her tonight. Everything feels illustrious under her gaze. He remembers the first time he’d cooked for her, how her watchful gaze felt a bit like sunlight; equal parts burning and doused in light.

She’d said she liked his hands, then. Said he looked pretty with a knife and a cutting board. “Will you try this sauce for me?”

He hears her heels click, the soft thud of her purse landing on the couch. It’s a slow saunter she does to him, but he’s razor focused- what does it need, garlic? Oregano?

It only breaks when he sees her. And she looks gorgeous. Wearing a black dress with a cowl neck, shimmery eyeshadow that catches and dances in the low light of the kitchen, a crimson lipstick neatly applied to her beautiful pout.

She smells like vanilla, and Carmen has the privilege of knowing what real, rich, Madagascar vanilla smells like. He’d loved the scent so much that he’d bought her a perfume made from it, and there’s a warmth blooming in his chest when he realizes that she’s wearing it.

Wordlessly, she opens her mouth and leans forward to try the sauce covered wooden spoon he’d raised to her lips.

Even when she’s in front of him, he can’t believe she’s someone he knows. That she’s wasting her time with someone like him.

“Jesus Christ you look beautiful,” he says without thinking, and he kisses her quick. It’s true. She’s a vision, plucked out of an old movie shot on grainy film, warm to the touch film.

He abandons the spoon and the sauce without much fanfare, a rough, calloused hand meeting her soft warm cheek.

“Thanks, Carmen.” she says, but her doe-eyes deny the joy she typically exudes in his presence. It’s his proudest achievement, how she glows around him. She’s tight lipped, smile betraying her words.

“What’s wrong? Is it the sauce? I know it’s a mess in here, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d see it-“

“No! No, seriously, it’s okay, honey.” She tries to insist but it really doesn’t work. He moves the pot off the burner and twists himself completely to face her, placing a gentle hand at the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. He tries not to let it sting, how she stiffens for a moment before softening again.

“What happened?” He asks again.

“It’s the first,” she says, a rueful grin on her pretty lips, before gesturing down at her outfit, and oh.

The dinner. The fucking dinner that he’d promised her. His sweet girl, who waited up every night, who dutifully tasted every recipe, who soothed him on nights where nightmares stole his sleep-

“Fuck,” he says, more to himself than her, but god, he can’t stop looking at her, “Fuck! God, I’m such an asshole, I’m so sorry-“ he insists, suddenly so grateful that she’s letting him touch her, even more aware of every point of contact with the sudden fear that it could escape in a moment’s notice.

“Y’know, Carm, if you could’ve just told me that would’ve been one thing? But I left the reservation, and this was the one night we both had off!”

“I know, baby, fuck, I forgot-“

She backs away from him, and there’s a sick feeling in his stomach. Sitting on the chair he keeps by the stove (he put it there for her, because she loved watching him) she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“It’s just not fair, Carm. To either of us. If you don’t have time for this-“

“I have time for this! I have time. Don’t say things like that.”

“Carmy, I’m not trying to hurt you. You know that’s the last thing I want.”

And it is. It’s the last thing she wants, and Carmen fucking knows it. Knows that three months in he’s supposed to have brought her flowers and taken her out and done more than cook for her and spend hours in his shitty apartment, and lately she’s been asking if he has time for being in a relationship.

And maybe he doesn’t, but fuck it if he doesn’t feel like he can breathe around her. This was the point of the dinner- take her out, be a boyfriend. Have her wait a little while on him. Show her he’s worth it.

Instead he fucking missed it, stayed home and made sauce no one would even eat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing her hand and lacing it through his own. It always shocks him, how it fits his own. “Okay? I’m so, so fuckin’ sorry. Tell me what I can do. Tell me, cos I’ll do just about fuckin’ anything to get you to stop saying shit like that.”

Her voice comes out small.

“I was alone, Carm. They kept trying to take my order and you weren’t there, and eventually I had to leave.“

She looks up at him, eyes sparkling and kind and Carmen. She looks beautiful, and if he wasn’t with her, he’d see her in the street and hate whatever fuck was lucky enough to be who she got dressed up for.

“I am so, so sorry. It’s just with the stove, and Fak, and Richie fucking calling me to bitch me out every thirty seconds,” she reaches her delicate fingers to brush his cheek with concern, “I should’ve remembered. It’s just about the only thing this week worth remembering. And you look…stunning, I should’ve been there. I should’ve. Please.”

Her expression softens and he loves the sight of her, warm and kind and lovely in both form and temperance. She’s so patient with him, responds with kindness- a gift.

She brushes her soft lips on his cheek and he tries to savor the sensation, note how warm and wonderful it is to have her form pressed against his, how her arms knot themselves around his waist.

“I know you’re stressed, babe,” she murmurs against his cheek, eyes shut, “tell you what. Why don’t you make me something better than what that place could’ve, huh?”

After he kisses her for so long that excess is no longer the right terminology, he makes her the best pasta she’s ever had in her goddamn life.

It’s better this way, anyway. She’s gorgeous in a way that’s just his to look at tonight.

[sturniolo-simp4life]

Movie Night.

@sturnthepot tysm for this idea

Paring- Chris x y/n. NOT PROOF READ!

summary- it was supposed to be a normal movie night…

warnings- semi public sex (?), p in v, fingering, mirror sex, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation

y/n impatiently sat on the couch waiting for Chris to hurry downstairs. Matt and nick were already sitting on the opposite couch.

“Chris! Get your ass down here or else we’ll start the movie without you!” Nick yelled.

two seconds later, Chris was running down the stairs. “God, can’t you just be patient?” He grumbled before plopping down on the couch next to you.

he grabbed your legs and put them on his lap, before covering them with a blanket.

you smiled and scooted closer to him, so now your shoulders were almost touching.

Chris grabbed the closet bowl of popcorn and started munching on it. “So what are we watching anyway?”

“Deadpool,” Matt answered.

“the new one?” You asked. “Nah, I think you’re the only one who’s watched the first one.” You frowned. “you guys suck.”

“Whatever,” he said, before playing the movie.

as the movie began playing, you couldn’t help but smile. “There’s something about his mask that makes him so fine,” you whispered to Chris.

“so, if I wore a Deadpool mask, would you find me more attractive?” He asked with a smirk.

you playfully hit him and returned your attention to the movie.

The movie went smoothly until he met the girl. oh shit. I forgot about this part. And the next thing you know— they were having sex.

Matt and nick groaned.

but chris— who’s hand was still under the blanket… moved his hand up your leg, until it was resting on the top of your thigh.

he sensually rubbed his hand against your skin, making your shiver.

you shot him a warning glare, but he ignored you— and continued to move his hand higher, and higher.

now his hand was in your shorts, resting right next to the hem of your panties. You shot him another warning glare- and he ignored you again.

his fingers slowly crept into your panties, and he smirked, feeling that you were already wet.

his fingers slid through your folds— and you let out a quiet gasp. He circled his thumb around your clit— and you were officially going crazy.

you bit your lip and squeezed your eyes, trying to keep your moans in. And if that wasn’t already bad enough…

he glanced at you with a smirk, before circling your entrance with his fingers. He then slid a finger into your aching hole— and you let out a small whimper.

”you okay y/n?” Matt asked. Luckily he didn’t turn away from the movie.

“u-um yeah. I just bit my tongue,” you said shakily. Matt let out a hum, and Chris smiled in satisfaction.

he began plunging his finger in and out of you, before adding a second one. You had to grab and pillow to muffle your heavy breathing.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You suddenly said. Chris immediately removed his fingers, and you ran up the stairs.

you locked yourself in the bathroom, breathing heavily. Was Chris out of his goddamn mind? Doing that when his brothers are in the same room?

after a few minutes, Chris stood up. “I’m gonna check on her. She probably started her period or something.”

his brothers nodded and continued watching the movie.

Chris softly knocked on the bathroom door. “It’s Chris,” he said. You reluctantly opened the door.

“what the fuck Chris!” You said while locking the door. “Your brothers were in the same fucking room!”

he shrugged. “And?” You sighed and shook your head. He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer— into a passionate kiss.

“let’s just finish what we started, yeah?” He whispered. “What you started.” He rolled his eyes and turned you around— bending you over on the bathroom counter. “Wha-”

he shimmed your shorts and panties off, leaving your backside bare for him. “Chris.. this position is.. embarrassing.” You mumbled out.

Chris simply just smiled. “I want you to look in the mirror while I fuck you.”

“Uh, I don’t really think that’s—” you cut yourself off with a moan as he slid two fingers into you.

“just be good, okay?” You nodded your head, and he removed his fingers. You were about to complain, but you felt his cock rubbing between your folds, before pushing in.

he let out a groan. “shit, you’re always so fucking tight.”

he let you adjust before slowly thrusting in and out of you. “Oh fuck—” you moaned.

he placed his hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. “Look at the mirror baby.”

and you did. You looked like a mess— there were tears forming in your eyes, and somehow your hair was messy.

Chris grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled it back, making you moan into his hand— from the pain and pleasure.

The lewd noises were bouncing off of the bathroom walls, filling the room. “look at you, such a slut.” Chris groaned.

he suddenly hit that spot— that made things feel unreal. You moaned again into his hand, and he repeatedly hit it over and over again.

“mmm sohp closh,” (I’m so close) you moaned into his hand. With a few more thrusts you came, moaning into his hand.

Chris didn’t stop though, so now you were whining. You started at yourself in the mirror— tears were rolling down your eyes due to the overstimulation.

“Mm, close,” Chris grunted, still thrusting. He hit that spot again, making your clench around him with another orgasm.

Chris groaned and pulled out of you, making him cum on your back. You slumped down to your knees, panting heavily.

“let’s just take a shower, since we’re here. I’ll go get you some fresh pj’s, okay?” he said.

you nodded, and Chris kissed your forehead before leaving.

-

Chris walked down the stairs, wearing his pj’s. “You missed the whole movie.” Matt said, glaring at him.

“y’know, the two of you have a shared fucking room for a reason. Because the bathroom walls a paper thin!” Nick whisper yelled throwing his hands up.

“yeah yeah, whatever. I’m going to bed, and y/n is already alseep. Just came to say goodnight.”

Nick groaned. “Why can’t we just kick you out of the house?”

tags- l34n theyluvme-2315 tillies33ssss maya555sblog alorsxsturn blahbel668 @nyktoxs-lover strnilolo hearteyesformatt ecliphttlunar joemamaaa42069 jamiesturniolo chrisstopherfilmed

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for ditching my boyfriend in a shady area? (even though he ditched me first and i was scared?)

pretty much what it says on the tin. personally i think i am absolutely not the asshole but we’ll see i guess.

we were on a road trip through the states when the car started making a weird sound, so he pulled over.

(keep in mind, it’s dark and we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere)

the exact problems with the engine aren’t relevant, but he said it wasn’t working properly and there was steam coming out of the engine, so i say call AAA.

he says “no, they’ll take too long.”

i say “so what do you think we should do then???”

he. fucking. says. “i’ll stand on the side of the road and see if someone’s willing to help us.”

at this point i’m starting to freak out like NO no no there’s been so many reports of crime here we are not about to ACTIVELY ENCOURAGE creeps to come get us.

i say “i’m not doing that” but apparently that was the wrong thing to say because he’s all like “don’t worry i will :) stay with the car and make sure it’s safe :) love you babe :)” god

now i’m like this is straight out of a fucking horror movie right. i am scared out of my goddamn mind. he gets out of the car and i am left ALONE just trying to avoid looking out the windows into the darkness.

he opens the door again and i get the fright of my life but he just says “i’m gonna go with someone to get fuel. stay here and lock the doors :)” like WHAT THE FUCK please please don’t do this you cannot leave me alone but hes already shut the door and i’m not going outside so i lock it like he says.

he’s gone for TWO FUCKING HOURS and i was scared out of my goddamn mind. there were creepy sounds the Whole Time and every little thing was petrifying and headlights kept passing by and it was horrible.

anyway eventually i get out and check and man door hand hook car door

What are these acronyms?

[luuknowsbetter]

Daylight. bucky barnes x reader

Plot: You had a bad day, and you come home sad and Bucky comforts you.

trope: Bucky barnes x F!reader

warnings; mentions of panic/anxiety attacks, low self-esteem and very fluff,with a bit of angst

I enter to the apartment, tired, sad and having a panic attack. Maybe this is not as i expected, no, today definitely did not go as planned. So i cross the door and Bucky appears from the kitchen,appearing with a smile when he hears that you are finally home, but it automatically fades when he sees you with a red face, a red nose and tears in your eyes. He quickly leaves everything on the kitchen counter to run up to me, and holds my face in his big hands while he looks at me worried, looking for any physical injury.

"What´s wrong doll..?"

he asks while he examines my face carefully, his icy blue eyes look at you with worry, one of his hands moves to the back of your neck and brings me closer to his chest, while his other hand is resting on my hip, making sure you are fine

"It happens that…I'm not enough anymore" I explain while crying trying to wipe away the tears with my hand

Bucky's grip around you becomes tighter at your words, he really can't believe that you are saying this

"What makes you say that sweetheart, you are more than enough. You are so..so so much more than enough, I don't want to hear you say that crap again, you are more than enough, you can do everything you put your mind to, doll, you ..are enough. And you deserve everything in the world"

"No, but…" I sob again, as i try to stop myself from crying "I'm not…good enough at what I loved to do before…I'm not pretty enough, nor smart enough, nor thin enough…"

He frowns at my words, grabbing my face firmly but being gentle at the same time, forcing me to look into his eyes

"Don't you dare say things like that. Don't say you're not good enough. You are good enough. You are a goddamn intelligent genius, you are so smart, you are the prettiest woman I have ever seen, and your body is...God..." He looks at my body from top to bottom, with a loving and somewhat lustful look, while he bites his lip and speaks again. "You have no idea what it makes me want to do with you everytime I see you, doll…"

I sigh, letting out a sob, while the tears continue to come out uncontrollably

"Why do I have the need to be perfect all the damn time? It's like… like there's a voice in my head that demands that I always be better now." I think I'm a mess and he keeps repeating my mistakes over and over again…" I let out a sob as my voice breaks, and Bucky strokes my back gently, trying to calm me down "And I can't even try to stop that voice and believe me I'd like to, believe me. But I can't…I feel…helpless"

Bucky just listens to you speak. Every word breaks his heart further. He can't understand why you believe those things. He holds you close to him again, one hand on the back of your head while the other strokes my back, his hand moving up and down, in a comforting, protective manner

"Darling..listen to me..you are not helpless, and you're not a mess, and you don't have to be perfect all the time. Don't listen to whatever that voice is telling you, darling, it´s not true, okay? you´re the most beautiful, talented, intelligent and capable woman I have ever met. and I love you, doll, I mean it. You are the best thing I have ever had, without you…without you I would not have been able to get up after everything that happened to me, you were with me and you helped me and supported me even in my worst moments, so, doll, I I'll help now…" Bucky says calmly, but you can tell he's serious, he gives your hand a light squeeze and smiles lovingly at you as he looks into your eyes.

"So darling, why don't we go take a relaxing bath while I prepare dinner and watch your favorite movies snuggled up on the couch?" He asks as he helps you up from the floor, and you walk towards the stairs to get to the bathroom. You smile at him, completely in love with him.

A couple of minutes later, you leave the bathroom, now calmer and wearing comfortable clothes, you head towards the living room silently, and there he is, juggling a couple of snacks, the TV control, tea and a couple of blankets to You, you realize how much trouble they took to arrange everything in the most beautiful way possible, the small table in front of the sofa has the pizza already cut in the middle, a couple of thin glasses with some wine already poured, and obviously, Alpine asleep on the couch. You smile and walk over to him to help him with the things.

"Hey" the soldier says with a small smile, once he sees you enter, you grab a couple of things and help him get everything perfect for movie night. And once everything is ready, he smiles at you again and leaves a small kiss on your temple, you both snuggle up on the couch and start eating and drinking while watching a Scary movie marathon.

An hour later, you had finished eating and were curled up on the couch with Alpine next to you. "How do you feel, doll?" your boyfriend asks softly, as he tilts his head a little to look at you and realize that you had fallen asleep in his arms, he smiles unconsciously like a teenager in love, and decides to take you to bed in his arms, after all, you were very tired after such a tiring day. Once in the room, Bucky changes his clothes and lies down behind you, snuggling up next to you again.

"Today was terrible, but you made this a beautiful moment, thank you for that my love, I love you" You murmur, still somewhat asleep. Bucky smiles and leaves a light kiss on your cheek, but not before whispering a small "You're the best, doll. I love you too" and with that, you both fall fast asleep.

HELLOOOOOOOOO

im bacckkkk. but no smut for today, today wass fluff 🤌🤌

i hope you guys liked itt and sorry if this was a bit different but I had something personal today, which made my mental health and self-esteem do this 📉📉 so i wrote this

[deerlysacred]

✧ i'll be summer sun for you forever . . . | s2 dean winchester x witch fem!reader

💌 𝄢 angst & fluff & smut

♫ 𝄢 concept song : forever winter - taylor swift ❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

🌜𝄢 that scar on his forehead makes him x 10000 hotter...

The summer rain pattered softly against the motel room's window, the overcast sky washing the room in dull grays. Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, a ragged duffle bag at his feet, his shoulders hunched forward like he was holding the weight of the world— and maybe he was. He's been like this since John died : quiet, unreachable. His fingers wrapped around a beer bottle, nearly empty, and the TV's nearly muted, the low-budget slasher movie flashing faint colors across his face.

You smoothed out his dark jeans, trying to make the creases look less like they'd been through a war zone. Folding laundry wasn't exactly the most fun thing to do, but it gave your hands something to do so. Because if not, you were afraid they would betray you by doing something stupid, like reaching out to touch his arm. Or his hair. Or— nope, shut that thought down.

"Y'know, you don't have to do that." His voice cut through the static in the room, low and gruff. He didn't even look at you as you were folding his flannel. "Not like I asked you to play house or whatever."

Okay. Ouch. You froze mid-fold, the flannel dangling awkwardly from your hands like you'd forgotten what laundry even was. For a second, you considered apologizing, but instead, your brain decided to replay every single time you apologized to Dean and he just got more annoyed. Because that's helpful.

It's fine. He's just grieving. He's not mad at me, he's mad at… life? Fate? Having to wait until he heal fully so he can repair Baby?

"You gonna say somethin'," he muttered, his lips pulling into a faint sneer. "Or are we just gonna sit here, you foldin' my crap like a goddamn Hallmark commercial?"

Oh, God. He thinks I'm being weird.

"I... uh... just thought you'd want your stuff… not wrinkled?" you stammered, immediately cringing at how lame that sounded. Who cared about wrinkles when your dad just died?

He didn't even look at you let alone answer you, he just took a big sip from his beer. Okay... Change the subject.

"So..." you said, carefully folding another shirt. "Do you ever wear anything that isn't flannel? Or do you and Sam just split one big closet at every Bass Pro Shop you hit on the road?"

Dean's lip twitched, but he kept his gaze on the TV. "Flannel's classic. Timeless. And it's practical. You can fight in it, sleep in it. Hell, you can even use it to tie someone up if things get kinky." His smirk widened at that, looking at your working fingers —or wrists...— as he attempted to take a one more sip, a few drops fell on his lap. "Why? Want me to follow the latest trends blogs as 'm ganking a vamp?"

Oh, hell no.

You acted like you didn't realize his subtle (?) glance at your wrists, just spoke softly as you put the shirts in one place. "No... These... They suit you. They really do... Just, curious."

He nodded, a low 'tch' coming out of his lips. "Yeah, you be like that."

Prick.

You just rolled your eyes and then knelt on the floor by Dean's bed, his duffle bag in front of you, the smell of old leather and motor oil wafting up as you unzipped it. God, this thing is like Pandora's box. There was no telling what kind of apocalyptic horrors I might uncover. Socks? Sure. Bullets? Probably. Random chicks' numbers on whiskey-stained paper pieces? Duh.

Please, no condoms. Please, no condoms... you thought as your hands dipped inside.

You grabbed something and tugged it up, blinking when you realized what it was : John's journal.

Your heart sank. "Oh." The word slipped out before you could stop it.

Dean's head snapped up at the sound. His eyes darted to the journal in your hands, and in an instant, his green eyes narrowed.

“Gimme that!" he barked, already on his feet. He crossed the room in two quick strides.

"I was just—" You didn't even get the chance to finish. He snatched the journal from your hands harshly.

"Don't touch my stuff." he snapped, his voice cold. It felt like a slap. "You don't get to just… go through my bag." His fingers curled around the journal like an upset little kid hugging his favorite plushie, an anchor for him.

You blinked up at him, guilt creeping into you. "I was emptying the bag so I could—"

"Doesn't matter," he cut you off, his voice low but shaking. "Just… don't."

Dean turned away from you, pacing to the other side of the room. His grip on the journal didn't loosen. If anything, it looked like he was trying to crush it in his hands.

You stood up, heart beating nervously as you watched his shoulders rise and fall with heavy breaths.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice quieter yet still rough. "You think I like this? That I'm bein' like this on purpose? But I can't just—" He broke off, shaking his head.

Your stomach twisted, the weight of his grief thick in the air. You wanted to step forward, to just, hug him and hold him. You had this need to comfort him ever since the day his entire world crushed in that hospital room. But you knew better than to push him so early, so you just waited. You two just stayed silent, you couldn't see Dean's eyes since his back was turned to you but you could guess he was looking at the ground.

Then suddenly, he spoke, his voice trembling like he couldn't keep the words in anymore.

"Do you know what he said to me before he died? I mean... What the yellow-eyed told me when it was in dad's body..." He gulped, licking his lips before he turned to look at you, he looked like he could break down at any second. "Azazel told me… that dad loved Sam more than me." He laughed, but it was bitter, hollow. "Can you believe that? All this time, I thought… I thought I was doing everything right. Following orders, being the good soldier. The good perfect hunter he trained me to be, ever since I was 4. And for what? So he could…" Dean trailed off, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

You stayed quiet, frozen in place, not trusting yourself to speak. You felt your eyes watering as you waited for him to say more.

Dean finally looked at you then, his eyes hard and glassy, his voice breaking, tired. "I don't even know if it's true. But it's all I can think about. Every fuckin' time I close my eyes, it's there. That voice. That… goddamn voice." He gripped his messy dark blond hair and messed it up even more, closing eyes for a while to gather himself. "Doesn't matter, though. None of it matters. He's gone. And I can't—" His voice cracked, and he cut himself off, turning away even more from you like he couldn't stand to let you see him like this.

You didn't think much before you crossed the small space between you and Dean. His back was turned, his shoulders stiff as he stared down at the journal in his hands. For a moment, you hesitated, your arms half-lifting before dropping awkwardly.

What if he pushes me away? What if I make things worse?

But then, without another thought, you moved closer. Carefully, your arms slid around his middle, your cheek pressing lightly against the worn cotton of his shirt. His body tensed immediately, his muscles going rigid beneath your touch.

“Y/N…” His voice was low, almost strained, like he was already trying to push you away with words alone. He shifted, trying to step out of your grasp, but you only tightened your hold, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt.

"It's okay," you murmured, the words barely hearable with the rain tapping steadily against the window. "I'm here. You're allowed to cry, to... Let it all out.”

Dean’s breath hitched sharply, his chest rising and falling in uneven jerks. "I'm fine," he rasped, but his voice cracked. "I don't need—"

Then he finally pulled away from you only to look down at your eyes, his pupils widened, like he was searching for something in you that he couldn't find in himself. The air between you shifted, the space filled with a tension that wasn't just grief and yearning. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, and your breath caught.

It was Dean who moved first. His hand, rough and calloused, cupped your cheek to make you rise on your tiptoes, pulling you towards him as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was hard, almost desperate, his lips were warm, slightly chapped (because of course they were), and way too good at this.

Wait. Is this happening? This is happening. Oh, crap. OH, CRAP. Dean Winchester is kissing me. What do I do? What do I do with my hands? Am I supposed to breathe? No, wait, don't breathe through your nose too hard, you'll sound like Darth Vader.

Before you could make a move, he tugged you closer, his hands firm but not rough as they guided you back onto the bed. The mattress creaked under your combined weight.

Dean's legs settled between yours, his lips moved to your neck to alternate between gentle kisses and demanding suckings. "God, I've been thinkin' about this..." he murmured, his voice gravelly and low. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin on your throat, and holy hell, that should've come with a warning sign beforehand.

"Dean—" His name slipped out before you could stop it, breathless and probably too needy, but the way his hands tightened on your waist told you he liked it. Maybe too much.

"Yeah?" His voice was a low rumble against your neck, his lips brushing against your pulse. "That sound like you want me to stop?"

Stop? STOP?! Who would ever—

"N-No." A sound that was a mix of whining and whimpering came out of your lips. "Keep going... Please?"

He reacted with his usual Dean-Winchester-Patented smirk. Damn that smirk. "You're so damn beautiful," he whispered against your lips, his voice rough. "You don't even see it, do you? You can't, not like I do, not like I will."

His hand slid down your thigh, guiding your skirt and underwear off in one smooth motion, his breath hitching. His gaze lingered on the delicate folds between your thighs, drinking in the sight of you laid out before him like an offering, undeniably beautiful. A low growl rumbled in his chest. "Fuck, look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So perfect." With a gentle tug, he guided your legs apart, creating a delicious space for himself.

You swore your soul left your body for a second. So this is what it's like to die a happy woman. Good to know.

He leaned in, breath hot against your slick flesh as he inhaled deeply, taking in your unique scent. "Christ, you smell incredible..." he groaned, nuzzling his nose to your thigh. Slowly, deliberately, he dragged his tongue along your slit, savoring every taste. You whimpered softly, biting down on your bottom lip to stifle them. His stubble scraped lightly against your inner thighs, sending shivers through you as he smacked your already dripping pussy, not too rough but not too gentle, making your eyes widen with shock and pleasure. "Shhh, let me hear ya..."

He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you suirm. He dipped lower, delving into your core with long, deep strokes of his tongue. Fucking you with his tongue, making you curl your toes, moan louder and louder each passing second.

While he kept eating you out, his strong hand pulled down on your top's buttons impatiently, making them fly away. You gasped as the air made your nipples harden even more, he started to palm your breast, his thumb focused on playing with your nipple as he feasted on you like a man starved. He picked up the pace, driving two fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping channel with his free hand. The combination of his mouth on your clit, his hand toying with your tits and his fingers pumping in and out of you had you screaming.

"A—Ah! Oh God... Fuck... Dean..!" Your back arched off the bed, making him pin your thighs still. Dean smirked and spoke heavily while his glistening lips were still against your folds, cooing. "Aww, too much already? How you gonna take my cock stretching you open if you can barely take this, sweetheart?"

Suddenly, Dean pulled back, leaving you gasping and wanting for more. "Guess we'll find out." He sat up, his eyes blazing with hunger as he quickly shed all his clothes.

Oh. Oh my God.

His cock sprang free, hard and heavy. The bulbous head glinted with a bead of precum, while the shaft was a delicious mix of dark pink and creamy white. Ridges of prominent veins ran along the length, making your pussy clench around nothing.

He was way bigger than you guessed, Dean smirked when he saw your reaction. "Saw somethin' you like, doll?" He gave a few stroke to his cock as he searched for a condom in the nightstand's drawer. Meanwhile, your hazey eyes were just watching his cock pulse and move while he rummaged the stuff.

Nope. Not fitting in there. Absolutely not.

"Ah, there you are." he muttered, producing a foil packet. He tore it open with his teeth, using his thumb to unroll the condom over his throbbing length. The latex stretched taut around his girth, providing a slick barrier between skin and skin.

He suddenly pushed you to fully lay on the bed, getting on top of you. He grasped your chin firmly, forcing you to keep a stable eye contact with him as his green eyes looked down at yours, the head of his dick nudging insistently against your heat. "Tell me you want it," he commanded, his voice low and rough with lust. "Tell me you're mine to use however I please."

That voice, his dominance, it shot straight to your stomach.

Or lower... God help me.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck, not even trying to filter your need for him anymore. "I'm yours... I'm yours, please... Use me how you'd like, fill me up, Dean..."

Dean's eyes darkened with primal desire at your plea, his grip on your hips tightening. With a slow, deliberate push, Dean sank the first inch of his thick cock into your warm heat. Your eyelids fluttered shut, a sheen of sweat glistening on your brow as you whimpered loudly, hurting so fucking good.

Your inner muscles clenched around him, drawing him in further. He forced himself to stay in control and not just start fucking you like a caveman, pausing, giving you a moment to adjust to his size before carefully pushing another inch inside.

"Fuuuck, you feel incredible," he panted, his forehead dipping to rest against yours as he paused, barely halfway in. His eyes searched yours, needy and possessive. "Look at me, baby. Let me see those pretty eyes while I fuck you 'till your pussy knows the shape of my cock." As you met his intense gaze, he rocked his hips, gliding the final stretch of his length into you with a soft, satisfied grunt. He stilled for a moment, giving you time to adjust to the fullness before withdrawing slightly until only the tip stays in and pushing back in, setting a gentle rhythm for a while.

Then, after your body got used to him inside you, Dean's hips snapped back and forward, burying all of his cock to the hilt in brutal thrusts even deeper. A sharp cry tore from your throat as he stretched you wide, the sudden intensity overwhelming your senses.

"Oh fuck yes!" Dean roared, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he set a relentless pace. He pistoned in and out of you with savage abandon, each powerful stroke sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain coursing through your body.

Your nails dug into his back, your eyes rolled back as you were whimpering his name like a mantra over and over again. Dean's guttural grunts and the lewd slap of flesh on flesh filled the room. "Take it, my naughty little slut!" Dean snarled, his words punctuated by deep, punishing drives of his cock.

"Fucking hell, you were made for this," Dean panted, his eyes wild with lust as he watched his cock disappear into your convulsing depths again and again. "Such a greedy little cunt, milking my dick greedy." The headboard rattled against the wall with each savage thrust, the metal frame creaking in protest. Dean's thrusts grew shorter and more erratic, his orgasm approaching.

The room spun, sounds blurred, until there was only the primal rhythm of your coupling. "Come with me, baby. Take it, take it, take it!" Dean growled, his voice a husky command. His words, spoken in that rough, dominant tone, were the final trigger. You felt the coil inside you snap, releasing a torrent of ecstasy that crashed over you like waves. Your inner walls spasmed wildly around Dean's cock, clenching as you shook apart beneath him. At the same moment, Dean let out a feral roar, his hips jerking erratically as he buried himself to the hilt.

As the last tremors subsided, Dean collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning over your damp skin as he struggled to catch his breath.

You wrapped your arms around him, still shaking slightly because of the intensity of the pleasure. You two stayed still like that for a few minutes, just listening the rain and bird sounds coming from outside, bare, skin to skin, satisfied. Dean chuckled into your neck, kissing the faint hickeys gently. A shy and tired smile appeared on your lips, holding him tighter.

Wow. Yeah, this is fine. Totally fine. Very casual. Just fucked Dean freaking Winchester. No big deal. This is —oh, wow, his skin is all over me. That's— yep, that's nice. Very nice. VERY NICE.

Dean pulled back just slightly, his eyes locking on yours, and the smirk that spread across his lips was both infuriating and ridiculously hot. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" He bumped your noses, murmuring low before he captured your lips in a deep, all tongue and teeth kiss. "Or did I?"

You rested your cheek against his shoulder, the warmth of his skin grounding you. His scent —leather, whiskey, and him— wrapped around you like a blanket. It was comforting, in a strange, Dean-specific way. You ran your fingers lightly over his chest, tracing invisible patterns, trying to soothe him, even if you knew it wouldn't ease his mind no matter how much time he spent tangled in the sheets lost in the haze.

"You okay?" you finally whispered, your voice soft.

He didn't answer right away. His jaw flexed, his lips pressing into a hard line. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, raw, and tinged with the weight he couldn't shake. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Yeah. Right, he was pulling back behind his walls again. You didn't press, though. Not yet. Instead, you shifted closer, draping your arm over his middle and squeezing him gently, hoping it was enough to let him know you were there.

You played with his hair as he rested his head against your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your waist. His breathing began to even out, his body relaxing against yours as exhaustion was taking over slowly.

"You don't have to be the strong one, the one who always sucks it up and carries all the baggage," you whispered, your voice soothing Dean with the rain. "Not anymore."

But even you didn't believe what you said.

Dean let out a soft, humorless chuckle, his voice gruff. "Actually, I do. Even more now." He sighed, the sound resigned. "But thanks for pretending I don't. Just for a little while."

You tightened your grip on him, your fingers still carding through his hair. "Anytime, Dean."

Eventually, the two of you drifted off like that, tangled together, the rain lulling you into a fragile, fleeting peace.

[cowboylikeyouu]

i finally watched the making of deadpool & wolverine and wrote down every thought that popped up into my mind while watching, have fun lol

god hugh jackman is gorgeous

they’re talking about all the different ideas they had for this movie and honestly??? i would eat up every single one of them they should still do it lol

god hugh jackman is GORGEOUS

man i missed them sm i haven’t watched dp&w in TWO MONTHS?????

i will never shut up about the deadpool suit in this movie it’s SO AWESOME it’s a blessing for my eyes every time it’s on screen

"that’s what we were striving for with rdj in endgame, is to give this iconic fictional character an amazing ending." yeah well only that endgame‘s ending SUCKED and i will never forgive anyone for it <3

ugh hugh jackman is gorgeous

i could watch him speak forever

i‘m SO glad ryan made that "i should use his body as a weapon" pitch bc GODDAMN that opening scene will never get old

ahhhhhh i love that we‘re getting some insight in the stunt/fight stuff, SO interesting !! the shitty iphone test videos are hilarious

they should’ve made a "he ACTUALLY broke his toe when he kicked that helmet!!!!" reference when ryan kicked logan‘s skull lmao

the marry puppins SNOGGING ryan bts clips will never get old lmao funniest shit ever

THE SUIT LOOKS SO GOOD UGHHHH am i having a gender or a sexuality crisis over it???? guess we’ll never know

EMMA CORRIN ILYSM

shout out to british people gotta be one of my fav genders fr

all the different lines ryan screamed out of the honda????😭😭 honestly they should’ve just kept all of these idc about logic

EMMA CORRIN

"and i knew the fans would love it" ohhh hugh i think we all love it a bit too much

"and yet, i wouldn’t say wolverine is a straight man" awesome, thanks, case fucking CLOSED.

"which i don’t recommend, sending a 10 minute voice memo to anyone"

*me looking at the five 10-20 minute voicemails i send my friends every single day*

THE SUITS LOOK SO GOOD TOGETHER (their asses do as well)

GOD hugh jackman is gorgeous

"what we refer to as the van fight" no babe that’s the honda odyssey sex marathon actually!!

"violence is our love language" ITS CONFIRMED (everyone knew. BUT STILL)

choreographing this scene (all the deadpool vs wolverine fight scenes really) must’ve been SO FUN like UGH just coming up with all this violence knowing that it won’t affect your characters in the long haul and you can add of many of it as you want????? THE DREAM

THEM HUGGING IN THE HONDA???😭😭 brb gotta cry

I LOVE YOU EMMA CORRIN

CHRIS EVANS LOML

it’s unfair how attractive he is i‘m gonna throw up

reminder to myself to finally learn johnny‘s monologue i wanna be able to randomly hit people with it

OHHHH i actually did NOT realize that was hulk‘s bed from ragnarok??? which is weird bc i used to watch that movie religiously. but hey that’s so cool!!

channing tatum talking about gambit is so heartwarming man so happy for him😭

jennifer garner is so pretty i‘m so gay lord help

me

dafne keen‘s voice sounds SO different when she’s not playing laura, CRAZY

EMMA CORRIN MY LOVE

just once just ONCE i wanna walk through a street filme set like this UGH it looks so cool & surreal

"this is our baby yoda" i have to be this annoying person i‘m sorry but HIS NAME IS GROGU

i don’t know shit about music but i could listen to people talk about movie scores for hours on end (how did you know sideways is my fav youtube video essayist???)

good fucking god hugh jackman is gorgeous

lmao they should’ve kept the "zoooombies wake uuuppp" again, idc about logic

EMMA CORRIN ‼️‼️‼️

ohh hugh jackman is gorgeous (put your greasy tits away you preening slut)

ugh i‘m getting emotional help

well that was awesome, gonna cry myself to sleep now byeee

(have i mentioned how gorgeous hugh jackman is?)

[manheeiim]

Nothing Lasts Forever - JJ's Arrest

ᥫ᭡ link to nothing lasts forever masterlist

I'm once again with JJ and his friends, minus John B, and we're all gathered in Pope's family's shop. Pope's dad, Heyward, as JJ called him, but that I found out was actually just Pope's last name, Pope himself, was actually a very nice and welcoming man.

I was helping Pope's dad with something at the counter when he leaned in, speaking lowly, "Listen, kid. I can tell you're a sweet girl but I need to warn you." Heyward started.

"About what?" I asked politely but in a confused manner.

"JJ is trouble." Heyward told me. "Love the kid but he's bad news. You've got your whole life ahead of you and you shouldn't fuck it up by getting involved with his family's shit." Heyward added.

I'm silent for a few moments, "Oh... okay." That is all I say.

Was JJ really that bad? Sure, we've gotten into some type of trouble or did something we weren't supposed to be doing basically every hangout. But, he really was so sweet and I really did like him. I had even more feelings for him now after the kiss at the movie night the other night, so everything was very conflicting for me.

Heyward had gone outside for a moment to take care of something while I stayed inside, tidying up one of the aisles in the front. Pope was still very worried about the encounter at the movie night and honestly, I didn't blame him.

"Don't let them get in your head, bro. There's three of them and two of us. That's some typical Kook shit right there." JJ tells Pope.

"Hell, yeah." Kiara agreed as she worked behind the counter.

"What was your thought process, using your head?" JJ then asked Pope.

"I don't know, man. I just kind of acted off instinct, alright? I was a cornered animal." Pope told him.

"Hey, Pope, someone here to see you." Pope's dad called out as he walked inside the shop again. A cop then walked into the shop and JJ was immediately looking over at Pope, in fact, we all were.

“Evening, officer.” Pope said.

“I have an arrest warrant for felony destruction of property.” The cop said and Pope was looking back at JJ. Fuck. What did they do? “Keep your hands on the counter where I can see ‘em.” The cop said as he walked over to Pope.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah- wait. Shoupe, what’d he do?” Heyward asked as Shoupe cuffed Pope up.

“Take a look at the warrant.” Was all Shoupe responded.

“You’re arresting him?” Kiara asked in shock.

I walked over to JJ and watched nervously. Everyone was freaking out as we followed Pope and Shoupe outside of the shop where Shoupe led Pope to his cop car.

“It wasn’t him!” JJ suddenly yelled and everyone looked over at him. “It was me.” He said. JJ started to walk forward, “He tried to talk me out of it, but I was made because he’d just been beaten up.” JJ explained. “I was so sick of those assholes from Figure Eight that I lost my shit. I can’t let you take the blame for somethin’ I did. You’ve got too much to lose.” He said.

“JJ, what are you doing?” Pope asked and then, I realized that JJ wasn’t telling the truth. He was doing this for Pope.

“I’m tellin’ the truth. For once in my goddamn life, I’m gonna tell the truth.” JJ countered. “I took his old man’s boat too.” He then added.

“What the hell, JJ.” Heyward said.

“JJ, come on.” Pope said.

“Shut up, Pope! Just shut up.” JJ told him before looking at Shoupe. “He’s a good kid. You know where I’m from.” JJ told the cop.

“Yeah.” The cop agreed.

“This was all me.” JJ said.

“That’s the whole truth?” Shoupe asked Pope.

“Whole truth, swear to God.” JJ said.

Shoupe looked at him, “I know what you think, damn it, I’m asking Pope.”

Pope looked at JJ for a few moments before slightly nodding, “Yeah, that about covers it.”

As Shoupe uncuffed Pope, JJ looked back at me, giving me a slight nod of reassurance. I couldn’t find any words as I just looked at him, watching him get into the back of the cop car before Shoupe drove off, leaving us all standing there, thinking; what the fuck?

[poeticpascal]

Trouble (Pedro Pascal x Rockstar!Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: Pedro had never heard of (Y/N) (L/N) before his latest appearance on The Graham Norton Show. By the end, his assistant wishes it had stayed that way, and he wonders how it took him so long to find her.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse (now recovered), allusions to but no specific mention of an overdose.

A/n: I am very nervous to post this! I've never written a fic about an actor like this before, so depending on how this one does lol, you may be able to expect more from me like this. Please let me know what you think, and don't forget my requests are open!

“And he used red this time! We were getting so worried that he wasn’t interested in all 3 primary colours-”

Pedro sighs, glancing towards the door to see if his assistant was coming back yet. No sign.

He turns back to the old lady who’s been talking now for what - 4 hours? 5? It felt like it. She was sweet, and he didn’t want to be rude, but god if he had to spend one more minute hearing about her grandson’s latest finger painting-

“So sorry I took so long! We’ll have to get going Pedro - your next interview is in 10.”

His assistant - Alicia - burst back into the room and Pedro was sure he could feel his eyes well in relief. He takes the lady’s hand, shaking it and giving her a warm smile. “Mrs Alderman, I’d love to hear all about Harvey, but I’ve gotta go. It was lovely to meet you!”

She smiles in understanding and clasps her own hand on top of his. “It was lovely to meet you too, Peter!”

Alicia snorts behind him, and Pedro gives up with a final, defeated smile before heading out of the cafe and back towards his car. He’d only wanted to nip in for a second, to grab coffee and a pastry, but then Alicia got a phone call, and Mrs Alderman started talking to him in the queue, and by the time they left his goddamn coffee had gone cold.

They clamber inside, Alicia pushing a few files onto the backseat as Pedro stares. “I almost died, you know,” he quips, half muffled as he takes a bite of his croissant. He hums at the taste, light and buttery; maybe it had been worth it.

Alicia rolls her eyes, used to his antics by now. “I was on the phone to the BBC. They’ve confirmed who you’ll be on The Graham Norton Show with.”

“They have? Who?” 

He generally felt nervous going on the big chat shows, especially with how in demand he'd been recently. But Graham had been so warm, especially for his first time on the show, that when they asked him to come back he'd accepted without hesitation.

And really, he was quite looking forward to it.

Alicia doesn't seem quite as excited though. She flips open her notepad, littered with delicate but hasty scribbles of various projects and dates, and begins to read out the names.

“Robert Downey Jr, he’s promoting Oppenheimer.”

“I'm gonna meet Iron Man?” Now he was nervous.

“Kate McKinnon. She's in the Barbie movie, I think.”

“Amazing.” He'd always wanted to meet her.

“And…” she sighs. “(Y/N) (L/N).”

“Who?” No seriously, who?

Alicia snaps her head up to look at him. Surely he didn’t not know who she was? “(Y/N) (L/N)? The singer?”

Pedro just shakes his head, unbothered. “Nah, never heard of her. She any good?”

“No, Pedro, that’s the point.” He cocks an eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue as she looks back and forth between him and her notes. “She’s a publicist’s worst nightmare. She’s the lead singer of this band, The Heartbreakers, they’re huge. Like, Taylor Swift-huge. But if Taylor Swift did heavy metal.”

“And why don't we like her?” he asks.

“Because she’s trouble. She’s had big drug problems, she argues with everyone, she goes on stage and pulls all these crazy stunts. She’s always in the news, Pedro.”

He can’t help but think she sounds like fun.

“Can’t be that bad, right? If she’s that famous?”

Alicia shakes her head, “she's famous, but that doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous. People love you right now, Pedro. I’m just concerned that if you’re seen to be… friendly with her, people will raise their eyebrows. It won’t look good.

He thinks for a second. It really wasn’t in his nature, this whole PR thing. He liked meeting new people, and listening to them, and connecting. Maybe not Mrs Alderman - and now he's thinking about that nightmare again - but, for the most part, yes; Pedro liked people.

And not giving someone a chance because of his public image didn’t feel right.

Alicia sees the cogs turning in his brain, so she flips the pad closed, giving him her full attention now. “I know it’s strange, but I mean it. It’s not a hole you want to get dragged into. Her fandom is huge, the media's obsessed with her, parents hate that their kids listen to her and kids love to piss off their parents by listening to her. I’m going to speak to them about getting you sat on the opposite end of the couch... I just want to make sure you’re not linked with her. Trust me.”

With that, he nods his head. He does trust her - at the end of the day, he didn’t even know who this (Y/N) person was. So what if he didn’t speak to her much on the show?

—------

“WHAT?!”

He had to pull the phone away as Bella’s near-screech pierced his ears. They yell again, something along the lines of “are you serious? Pedro, are you serious?!”

“Yes I’m serious, what’s the big-”

“Oh my god I can’t believe it! You’re going to meet (Y/N) (L/N)! Will you mention her to me? I saw her tweet once that she watched the show and oh my god I need her to follow me on Instagram-”

“Wait, Bella, wait,” Pedro rubs his thumb and forefinger between his brows, not exactly thrilled that what was supposed to be a call to calm his nerves the night before the show was now filled with so much rowdiness. “I don’t even know who she is! You listen to her?”

They gasp, and he just knew they were pulling a dramatic, jaw-dropped face on the other end of the line. “Come on man, I know you’re not the hippest guy around but you have to know who she is!”

He giggles, throwing his hands in the air. “‘Fraid not, Bella. I’ve no clue. I do know i’m not supposed to talk to her though.”

Now there was a real gasp, not the purposefully dramatic kind. “What? Pedro, you can’t not talk to her. You have to. She’s the coolest person, like, ever.”

Pedro scoffs, “what about me?”

“When you get sleeve tattoos and banned from performing at the VMAs, you might get considered dude.”

“She was banned from the VMAs?”

You know that feeling, when someone tells you not to do something, and you don’t want to do anything else?

Yeah, that.

“I’ll send you the link, it was so cool. She said she’ll be allowed back next year anyway 'cos they need her to stay relevant.” He giggles again at that, and yeah, he couldn’t deny his intrigue.

“So that’s why you like her? She's all rebellious and stuff?” Pedro chews on his thumb as he asks, the anxiety of tomorrow not quite forgotten, but listening intently as Bella rants on.

“Nah, I mean she is controversial, but I just think she’s amazing. She acts all tough and rock 'n' roll, but she's really great deep down. I went to see her band once a couple of years ago, and this girl fainted so she stopped the whole show to make sure she got water and was okay. She’s just misunderstood, man.”

“Is it true she’s a drug addict?” He's not sure why he felt the need to ask. Why he cared. Maybe it was just to build a better picture, or maybe because Bella loves her so much, and he cares about their interests. Maybe, he had a sort of… concern, for her. For this enigma.

They knew each other well, and Bella could sense Pedro’s interest. More than anything, they were just excited to tell him about their favourite singer. “She used to be, it was crazy. She’d go on stage high and everything, people really hated her then. But she’s been sober now for, like, a year? She talks about it a lot. This is what I mean dude - everyone remembers all those shitty things but I think she’s so strong.”

He hums in agreement, thinking back to Alicia’s warning a few days earlier.

“Do you think it’d be bad? If I talked to her?”

It was Bella taking a moment’s pause, now. “I mean… Alicia’s not wrong. She’s not exactly got the cleanest image a celebrity’s ever had. I guess it’s up to you to decide what matters most.”

It was quite profound really, and Pedro was reminded of just how mature they were for their age.

“The most important thing is that you give her my instagram handle.”

And just like that, the moment’s gone. He laughs, shaking his head and muttering “you’re a dick”, before falling into conversation about other things. He fully intended to look up (Y/N) (L/N) before he fell asleep, but the hours went by quick and soon enough he'd drifted off, phone in hand and tomorrow's nerves dispelled for now.

—------

Maybe this whole Graham Norton thing was a bad idea.

Pedro was tired.

It had been a long flight to London, a long drive from the airport to his hotel. And a long, long wait at the studio before they even thought about getting filming started.

He’d been in hair and makeup for a good while, and according to Alicia, it would still be another two hour’s wait until they got him sat on the big red couch.

Yeah, he was tired.

He steps out, the muddied skies of London painting a grey-cast shadow on his face, the frosty winds hitting his skin. It was nice. Different. Much harsher than the LA sun he was used to.

He looks around; it’s just him there in the car park, leant against the windowsill and letting his eyes drift shut. It’s peaceful, and if it weren’t for the rushing of the motorway that ran just beside him, he’d almost feel alone.

“Mind if I join?”

He jolts awake, startled out of his near-tranquility, facing the woman who’d crept outside through the same doors he did. She was casually dressed, far more so than the BBC staff he’d seen today; she must be a temp, or an intern or something. A heavy black hoodie swallows her frame, and he wished he had a similar one as his ice-cold breath fell into the air. His eyes draw upwards, and he thinks to himself just how pretty she is. (Y/H/C) hair is bundled in her hood, loose strands blowing messily in the wind. She has no makeup on, so he can see greyish bags hung under her eyes, her lips stained pink, a soft blush blooming over her cheeks from the frosty air. There’s a roughness to her, something harsh, and it makes her so utterly alluring.

“Yeah- yes, of course. Of course.” He offers a smile, and she smiles back, and his heart races.

He shuffles to the left, unsure of why he’s making room for her on the windowsill; they’re outside, he’s a stranger. There’s a bench not far from the door, perfectly fit for her to sit on. And yet she follows his movements, and leans against the porcelain outline of the large window, searching for something in her pockets.

“D'you smoke?” She produces a pack of cigarettes, and digs out a lighter from her back jean pocket. Pedro watches as she slips one of them between her lips, covering the end with delicate hands as she lights it, revelling in the taste and taking a long drag. He notices then her long black nails, perfectly painted and delicately holding the cigarette in place, elegant and weapon-like at the same time.

There’s a nonchalance to everything she does, and it’s enticing. She doesn’t look at him when she asks, or when she expels the smoke from her lungs, keeping her eyes set forward and undoubtedly feeling the weight of Pedro’s on her face.

He forgets he’s supposed to answer.

“Er, no, thank you. I’m being good.” He offers her a smile, forced as he tries to remember his own whereabouts, too entranced by the beauty and the charisma that fell from this woman in droves.

The two are silent for a little while, he can’t be too sure how long. He smells the smoke from beside him, sees the wisps drawl from her tongue and into the cool air, and for someone who considered himself rather charming, he couldn’t for the life of him think of something to say.

He doesn’t have to.

“What're you doing out here, then?”

And this time she is looking at him. They’re sat close, and his eyes meet hers with ease, warm and welcoming. He feels a little more comfortable now, like she’s a friend; her warmness makes it hard to feel anything other than at peace.

He smiles, bashful. “I’m working.”

“Working?”

He looks down at his shoes, rubbing them against one another. It was always a strange conversation to have, explaining who he was to people who didn’t know. It felt like showing off a little; more than anything, he didn’t want to make a big deal of it.

“Yeah, I, uh… on the show.”

She giggles, and it sounds so sweet that his tummy heats up. “I’m only kidding. I know who you are. The Last Of Us, right?”

There’s a sincerity to her tone, nothing like this thick, false charm people try to use when they know he’s famous. It didn’t feel like she wanted anything from him in that moment. He nods, looking back up at her and his breath hitches when they immediately lock eyes again. Her lips are turned into a sly smile, cheeky almost, and he can’t help but grin back.

“I liked that show,” she says before taking another long drag.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me. Makes this fuckin’ huge press tour worth it.”

She laughs. Not the quiet giggle she gave him before, but a proper laugh, one that makes her eyes brighter and her nose scrunch up. Pedro laughs too, caught up in her, and when their chuckles die down they relax into a comfortable silence for a few moments before he turns to her again and asks, “how about you? Are you on the production team?”

She ponders her answer. It’s the first time - in the 10 minutes since they’d met - that she’d seemed to falter. Like she was unsure. “Yeah, you could say that.”

He didn’t push it. Maybe his fame was a problem. Did she feel overwhelmed? Or judged? He didn’t know - but a twang of sadness settled in his gut, and he wondered what to say next.

She recovers quickly, though. Stands back up a little straighter, puts the butt of her cigarette out against the wall, and faces him once again. ��You seem nervous."

Pedro chuckles, nervously. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only when you scuff your shoes within an inch of their life and readjust your glasses every 10 seconds.”

“And here I thought I hid it well.” Cocking an eyebrow, the woman looks at him knowingly and tilts her head, encouraging him to go on.

“I always get nervous before these things... it feels worse this time, though. I just know Robert Downey Jr is gonna think I’m so weird, and then there’s this other lady I gotta avoid-”

“Who?”

She was abrupt, quickly apologising for interrupting him. He didn’t mind. “She’s like this... musician? I think. I’m sure you’ll know who she is. I’m awful at keeping up with whatever the kids are doing now. (Y/N)- (Y/N) something.”

There was a pause, awkwardly long. “My assistant says I gotta stay away from her” her continues, feeling a need to fill the gap. “Just doesn’t feel right to me, you know? To judge someone like that before you’ve even met them?”

He watches as she nods her head, deep in thought. She meets his eyes and nods again, faster, showing to him now that she agrees. She understands. He’s not quite sure how she understands, but he believes her; she didn’t strike him as the dishonest sort.

Pedro’s phone vibrates in his pocket, startling them both and they share another soft laugh. He grabs it, seeing Alicia's text flash on the screen - You’ve got a meeting with the producers to go over filming. 10 minutes. Ah shit.

“Everything okay?” There’s concern in her voice, and Pedro wonders if she knows he has to go. If she’s just as disappointed as he is.

“Yeah, yeah. I just - I gotta go.”

She’s definitely disappointed. He knows because her bright eyes fall the same way his did.

He’d never quite felt like this; like a magnet was drawing him to someone and like it would hurt in his soul to let her go. It occurred to him then, he didn’t even know her name, and he’d be damned if he was going to crawl back into the world of PR and publicity stunts and rehearsed answers without finding it out.

“It was nice to meet you. I don’t know if you- you want to get a coffee? Or something? After filming?”

The same harsh edge she had when they met, the one that had slipped and softened as they talked, seemed to have crept back as a once-sweet smile became that sly, cautious smirk. He couldn’t quite understand what she was thinking, what the cogs that so clearly turned in her mind were churning up, but he knew he didn’t care as long as he got to see her again.

“I’d like that.” Pedro sighs in relief, smiling again and sticking out an ice-bitten hand. “I’m Pedro.”

She giggles, offering her own hand and he stalled at the feeling of her fingers wrapped around his own. “I know.” She retorts, and he laughs, and just when she opens her mouth to tell him her own name-

“Pedro! We gotta go!”

Alicia shoves the door open, not even looking up from her phone which was presumably inundated with countless emails and phone calls, and Pedro sighs before looking desperately into the still nameless women’s eyes. She just smiles, dropping his hand and digging hers into her pockets. “Go on. I'll catch you later.”

He nods, swallowing and offering a small, regretful smile before pushing himself off the wall and following Alicia back inside. She huffs at him, speeding back off down the corridor and muttering something along the lines of “these goddamn producers”. He looks back a final time, to where the woman still sits in the windowsill. She waves, and he grins, unable to hide the childlike excitement her little gesture gave him before waving back and letting the door shut behind him.

—------

“We’ve got a fantastic show for you tonight, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s get some guests on!”

Pedro hears the roar of the audience, only a single wall between them and him as he waits to hear his name. He looks around the room; Robert and Kate are stood with him, chatting away at something he’d stopped listening to a little while ago. He felt better now he’d met them - they were lovely, so down to earth and genuinely happy to chat to him and hear what he had to say. It made him less nervous, and you might even say he was looking forward to this now.

There was no sign of her though. The singer - (Y/N). Alicia had scoffed, “typical,” just 10 minutes earlier, when there had been no sign. And she still wasn’t here.

“We’ve got the newly Emmy-nominated actor, best known for his amazing roles in The Mandalorian and HBO’s The Last Of us,” the audience’s roars got louder, “Mr. Pedro Pascal!”

It’s time.

He pulls his suit jacket a little tighter around himself, laying his palm flat against the bottom of his chest. With the other hand, he waves, smiling brightly at the crowd who cheered him on. Graham greets him, pulling him in for a hug and welcoming him back, before pointing him towards the end of the couch. Pedro gives the audience a final wave, mouthing ‘thank you’s and trying to express his gratitude for the love that filled the room.

Kate and Robert came next, shaking his hand and ‘introducing’ themselves again, despite the fact he’d already met them an hour earlier. A producer runs up to Graham, whispering something in his ear before darting off in the other direction. Graham rolls his eyes playfully, turning towards the audience and announcing, “we’ve got a late one!” The audience laugh, and Graham just organises his cue cards as producers usedthe extra time to prepare the camera angles and get the lighting right.

Graham looks at the couch, smiling with a wink. “Don’t worry - she’ll be here in a minute.”

“Is this (Y/N) again?” Robert asks, grinning.

“You’ve met her?” Pedro jumps in, falling into small talk among the four of them.

“A couple of times now yeah,” Robert replies. “I think she’s great, really funny. She's just… not the most put together person.”

They laugh, and Kate recounts her own story of having to wait on some celebrity or another, entertaining the crowd.

Graham parts from the conversation after around 10 minutes, holding a finger to his ear piece and nodding at whatever he was being told from the other end of the line. He stands up, smiling wide and turning to the audience, “she’s here! We have our rockstar ready.”

Cheers immediately erupt, and Graham turns to the guests to check they’re all ready to carry on with the show. Pedro nods, anticipation building as he spots Alicia from the corner of his eye, keeping watch.

“And don’t worry everyone, we’ll cut that little intermission out!” The room laughs. “Now I’m very glad introduce our last, but certainly not least, guest of the night. She’s the lead singer of Grammy-nominated band The Heartbreakers, she’s one of the most famous women in the world right now, and she’s only a tad terrifying. Ladies and gentleman, please welcome - (Y/N) (L/N)!

The audience becomes the loudest they’ve been all night, standing and yelling as the final guest takes the stage, and -

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It’s her. The woman from outside, the one he’d been thinking about all afternoon. The one whose name he never learned. 

She looks different; she looks like the woman he’d been warned about. She looks dangerous. Where a black hoodie had hung from her shoulders, a black lace dress now clung to her figure and he could see the tattoos that littered her sleeveless arms. The bags under her eyes were gone, as was the pink on her cheeks; her skin was painted, perfected, sculpted with darker shades and glowing radiantly. Her lips were black and glossy, so neatly done that she almost looked like a doll. Thick eyeliner carried a smoky shadow across her eyelid and beyond, drowning the same (Y/E/C) eyes he’d memorised in black.

She was ethereal.

And she was his one, single instruction for the night. Don’t get involved in her.

She waves at the audience, smirking in the same sly way she’d done to him earlier; he saw more clearly that they were the same now. She has the same charm, same charisma, same allure and yet she seems all the more potent now as she strides across the stage in 6 inch heels and pulls Graham into a tight hug, like old friends. She whispers something in his ear, and he throws his head back with a laugh before she saunters to the couch, where the three guests stand up to greet her. She and Kate introduce one another with a kiss on the cheek and a warm smile, before she gives Robert another tight hug and they share a word that Pedro can hear now. “I have to stay here an extra 10 minutes ‘cos of you” Robert quips, causing (Y/N) to pull back and look at him with a cocked brow.

“You know I’m worth it, Downey.”

With that, she turns to face Pedro, and his breath hitches the same way it did when they’d first met. Her grin falters slightly, and there it is again; that honesty. She almost seemed like she was putting on a show, with her slow saunter and cheeky remarks, but there was nothing false about the way she wrapped her arms around him and looked into his eyes.

“My name’s (Y/N).”

He just laughs. He can’t help it. She makes him feel giddy. “I know.”

The audience’s applause dies down, and (Y/N) takes her spot as the star guest, and the first on the couch closest the Graham. He talks between them and the crowd, commenting on what a great line up they had today, despite certain delays, which has the audience howling again. (Y/N) laughs with them, shaking her head and pretending to cover her face with her hand, before looking up at Graham and saying, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay? I got held up!”

“Well you have to tell us what happened,” Graham retorts, and they banter as (Y/N) recounts getting stuck in the backstage toilets. She has everyone wrapped around her finger, listening to everything she says and laughing at her jokes, and Pedro can’t find himself believing the warnings Alicia had given him. 

He remembers Bella, and how much praise they had for her, and he gets it. He sees what they see.

“Well you’re here now, that’s all that matters. We actually haven’t seen you for a while!” 

(Y/N) nods, her demeanour becoming slightly more serious. “No, it’s been a strange few months.” 

Graham continues, “the last time you were on the show was 2021. And obviously as most of us here know, you've had quite a difficult time since then, right? Tell me how you’ve been.”

She takes a sharp breath, and Pedro could’ve sworn she glanced up at him before she answers. “Well, yeah. I’m sure it’s no surprise to anyone that I was struggling with addiction for… most of my career, really.”

“‘No surprise’?” - Graham interjects - “you used to get high on stage!” It seemed judgemental, but it quickly became clear that he and (Y/N) had that sort of friendship, the kind where you can talk to one another so blatantly. She purses her lips at him, and he giggles, which makes her break the feigned offence and giggle too. 

“Look, man, that’s rock and roll.” The room laughs again. “No but seriously, yeah, it just got worse and worse until… well, you know what happened. it was hard. But I’ve gotten clean, I haven’t touched that shit in what, 8 months?” The crowd launch into cheers and applause, echoed by Graham and the other guests. Pedro could see how much it meant to her, how she tried to keep a stoic appearance despite the tears beginning to glisten in her eyes. She mouths a thank you, and he longs to skip right past Robert and Kate to be by her side, to hold her. She recovers quickly, something Pedro notes she seems to do a lot; cover her moments of weakness as soon as they start. Instead she sits up straighter and jokes, “I think everyone’s worried I’m gonna be boring now, without the drugs.”

Graham laughs, “I mean, you are known for being one of the more controversial artists out there.”

“If anything, I think being high slowed me down. I’m just gonna get worse, now.”

“Oh god, don’t say that,” Graham jokes, “you’re going on tour again soon, I’m not sure we can handle it.”

The audience cheer even louder at the mention of the tour, making (Y/N)’s smile grow wider. “Yep, new album, new tour. It’s all happening.”

Graham turns to Pedro suddenly, as if remembering he had three other guests to rope into the conversation. “Do you listen to this sort of music, Pedro? The Heartbreakers?”

And, shit. Pedro can feel Alicia’s eyes burning into him from off-stage, and he recalls her warnings about this very situation.

Don’t make friends with her

Don’t give the media something to talk about

Don’t ruin your reputation

And yet, her voice got quieter and quieter in his head, as the sound of (Y/N)’s laugh and the pierce of her eyes became all he could think about. The decision was pretty easy to make, really.

“I actually hadn’t heard of them, until today.” Graham chuckles at his reply. “But I think I’ll have to start listening.”

The crowd cheer, and the pair lock eyes for what could’ve only been a few seconds, but felt like so much longer. She tries to fight the way the corners of her mouth pull upwards, white teeth poking through painted black lips, but when she sees him smiling back at her she lets them go and drowns in the butterflies she’s so unused to feeling.

God, he was in so much trouble.

[katesmemes]

feel free to change any pronouns, etc. || may contain some nsfw!

"I don't think that blush is your shade."

"I'll probably just stay home."

"This is the first critical rager of the year."

"You know what your doctor said."

"You need socialization."

"Why don't you use my tanning bed?"

"You're in need, babe."

"I'm really sorry you got electrocuted."

"Are you hot for anyone?"

"[Name], [Name], [Name], [Name], [Name], [Name], [Name]!"

"I don't know who that is."

"He doesn't play sports; he's cerebral."

"This party is gonna be clutch!"

"These things will turn your feet into hamburger helper."

"It's not haunted, just abandoned. Desecrated."

"Well, I heard [Name(s)] do witchcraft over there."

"I've never seen anybody there."

"I think it's really peaceful and quiet."

"I talk to him sometimes."

"I brought this for you."

"It's kinda morbid when I wear it so I wanted you to have it."

"That's really weird, [Name]."

"I just don't think anyone should be forgotten."

"Y'know, I wasn't gonna say anything, they were such a mess, but you look amazing now!"

"Oh my God, [Name], bag your face!"

"How do you know my name?"

"So what exactly happened to her?"

"I can never ever talk about it, for personal and legal reasons, and i also pinky swore, but I guess I can tell you. I trust you."

"I'd be screwed up if I were her, too."

"Hi, sorry, how do we know each other?"

"You're being so dramatic."

"This is not what I expected from you; you have so much potential."

"Lets find somewhere for you to sit for a bit, yeah?"

"I hate parties like this; I don't even know why I came."

"Your hair feels like easter grass."

"You know it's not nice to lead people on."

"I wish I was with you."

"It's okay; everyone does it."

"You should probably get going."

"Did you smash the mirror in the bathroom?"

"Do you know what happens to people who act out?"

"How about an apology?"

"I feel like I may want to apologize for what happened last night."

"Well, I'm glad you're okay."

"Oh, is there pizza left?"

"I think I'm gonna skip the movie."

"I'm just really tired from work."

"Do you know how hard that is on the groin muscles?"

"It doesn't even hurt anymore."

"Do you like this song?"

"We're better off up here in case anyone comes home."

"I haven't said this many words in a row in forever."

"I hate to say it, but you're either crazy, or just goddamned inconsiderate!"

"You're kind of absurd, aren't you?"

"I really don't get your fixation with that one."

"There are plenty of halfway-dece guys who would date you."

"I wanna help you, I really do, but I dunno how."

"It's a waste of time to try and fix a boy; it's better to just accept a guy's flaws."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"What happened to your neck?"

"You don't want to hold my hand?"

"This whole place gives me the creeps, okay?"

"I thought that was a really cool thing to say."

"Don't feel bad about what we did!"

"You saved me."

"Is that a rad new trend or something?"

"I don't play with dolls anymore."

"I'm sure there's some explanation."

"You know I'm usually pretty cool about things, right?"

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"You have no idea how scary this is."

"I actually feel like something's wrong."

"People are so afraid of death because they dunno when it's gonna happen to them."

"I'm not afraid of death anymore."

"I don't wanna die a virgin."

"I want to do it with someone I truly love."

"You're so supportive."

"I love our conversations."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude."

"How about I drive since you're not feeling so good?"

"Your boobs look great by the way."

"This is just too freaking much."

"It's your fault we're screwed."

"You act like you're happy for me, and you care about me, but you're not really happy for me."

"You couldn't let me have this one thing?"

"You knew I liked him and you went after him on purpose!"

"I swear, I would never do that to you!"

"Guys usually only want me for one thing."

"It just was never gonna work out between us."

"I don't have feelings for you like that."

"Do you know how uncool that is?!"

"Uh, you're not making any sense."

"Thank you for being nice to me when no one else was."

"You're the type of person who usually bullies me or looks right through me, but you didn't."

"You actually went out of your way to try to tell people I was part of your family."

"You really actually wanted me to be your sister..."

"You're a great person, [Name]."

"Listen, we're running out of time."

"Make love to me."

[queenie-ofthe-void]

The Babysitter Chronicles - Hopper

Steve POV 5+1 (immediately follows s2) || wc: 4.6k || cws: check tags || full fic ao3

Henderson || Mayfield pt 1 / Mayfield pt 2 || Sinclair || Wheeler || Byers || +1 Hopper

Can be read as a standalone

~~~

It’s Friday night at the Harrington house, which means it’s movie night. Even though this week is Dustin’s turn to pick, Steve can hear the kids arguing all the way from the kitchen. He’s in the middle of prepping snacks and drinks, just waiting on the pizza, when the doorbell rings. 

The arguing stops, and he can hear footsteps running towards the front door.

“Hey,” Steve shouts just as Mike and Max round the corner. “What did I tell you guys about answering the goddamn door?”

“But we know who it is,” Mike argues. “It’s the goddamned pizza man.”

“Language!” Max shouts it the same time Steve does, and he looks over to see her smirking with her hands on her hips. She obnoxiously runs a hand through her hair, pinches the bridge of her nose, and looks up at him. Of course he’s stood the same way.

He rolls his eyes, which only spurs her on as she laughs, running around the corner out of sight before he can bitch her out.

These kids will be the end of him.

The doorbell rings again and again and again.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve sighs, “I’m coming!”

Instead of the pizza man, he opens the door to Police Chief Jim Hopper. Fully uniformed, he stands stiff as a statue, arms crossed and mustache twitching in irritation. The cruiser sits running in the driveway and he’s looming on the front stoop staring him down like every other time he’s busted one of King Steve’s parties.

Anxiety floods his veins as he racks his brain for why the chief is here. He’s not throwing a party. The kids are noisy, sure, but not loud enough to bother the neighbors. He hasn’t drank since his fight with Billy.

Shit.

“Hop. I mean, Chief,” Steve stumbles, panic bubbling in his lungs. “Sir, I swear it was just to help with the pain.”

The Chief drops his arms, one hand moving to pinch his nose while he props the other on his hip. God this is worse than he thought. He hears Max cackle behind him, and he turns to find her watching them from behind the corner of the wall. Having absolutely no idea what she’s on about, he waves her away before Hopper gets even more irritated.

“No really,” Steve pleads, turning back to face Hopper and the consequences of his actions. “I just needed something to help me sleep! Munson said it would help with migraines too so I thought–”

“Munson?” He stares at Steve, eyebrows crinkling in confused frustration. “Why are you buying off him? More importantly, how do you even know he sells? You know what, no, nevermind don’t answer that. Didn’t you get meds from the hospital?”

Steve quickly glances away, shifting his weight as he tries to come up with a response.

“Dammit kid,” Hopper yells. “You told me you were going to go to the hospital.”

“Yeah, I know. I know I did but–”

He catches a brief rustling of fabric behind the Chief that he hadn’t noticed before. Leaning around the left side, Hopper steps out of the way to reveal a young girl with large, brown eyes and curly brown hair. She’s bundled up in an oversized flannel coat over what Steve thinks is another too-large flannel shirt. Actually, most of her clothes look a few sizes too big.

Steve’s never really met El before. They didn’t talk after she saved them all from the demodogs, and she was in-and-out of consciousness when Hopper brought her back after closing the gate. Things had been so chaotic, he’d made a point to go unnoticed as everyone trickled back into the Byers’ house, standing off to the side and out of the way.

For a girl who’s saved the world, she’s more shy than he expected. He smiles and bends over to meet her at eye-level. When she smiles back, he waves at her. She copies him again and giggles, hiding her face behind Hopper’s jacket.

The Chief’s heavy, drawn out sigh pulls Steve’s focus again. He scrubs his hands over his face, like he’s trying to wipe this moment from his memory. 

“Look, kid, I need a favor. Can we come in?”

Steve shows them down the hall and into the TV room where the boys greet her with enthusiastic hugs. He flicks his eyes over to Max, now sitting alone on the couch. She’s watching the boys flit around their friend with a slight frown on her face, but as Steve moves to make introductions, Will plops down next to her. He drops an armful of colored pencils and sketch pads on the table in front of them, and a small smile skates across her face.

Hopefully he can count on Lucas to remember not everyone knows El. If not, Steve will make sure to introduce everyone and ease the tension later.

Hopper leans against the kitchen counter, ankles crossed and arms braced behind him. He fixes Steve with a tense glare which has the boy self-consciously wrapping his arms around his torso, shrinking in on himself. Steve’s never had great relationships with adults or any type of authority. Hopper’s gruff and intimidating, doesn’t put up with bullshit, and he’s a cop for christ’s sake. 

They stare at each other uncomfortably for what feels like hours before Hopper sighs, hard and heavy. “I don’t even know where to start with you, kid.”

Steve flinches, can’t help it after a decade of hearing similar statements from his father, usually followed up by a lecture on how he’s not good enough in some way or another. 

Hopper, like Joyce, catches the movement faster than Steve can recover. “Shit, kid, that’s not–” he sighs again, “I’m not good at this kind of thing. Something that she likes to point out all the time.” A fond smile crosses Hopper’s face as he points a thumb behind him towards the living room.

He doesn’t know what to say to that, unsure what he’s even talking about,  so Steve waits for whatever lecture is barreling his way. Even with the Chief’s smile, he can’t relax.

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital, Steve?” Hopper asks, disappointed. “I asked if you’d go, and you said you would. So why didn’t you.”

“I got the stitches,” Steve snaps, hackles rising in defense, “does it matter where they came from?”

“You lied to me.” Hopper’s voice is rising. “I checked with the nurses, and they didn’t have any intake paperwork under your name.” He’s switched back to detective mode, and Steve feels himself being backed into a wall.

“That’s– that’s illegal, or something. Right? Like–” Steve stumbles his words when he catches Hopper roll his eyes– “you can’t look up my medical stuff.”

The Chief scoffs and bites back, clearly annoyed. “I’ve known over half of the ER nurses for longer than you’ve been alive. So if I ask after one of my own kids, I’m gonna get some goddamn answers.”

It feels like a hit to the head all over again, leaving Steve dazed. His mouth hangs open around words he can’t articulate, and he doesn’t know what to say. 

He’s never thought of Hop as anyone other than the Chief of Police and one of the only two adults in this damn town who know about the Upside Down.

So how’s Steve supposed to respond when Hopper calls him one of my kids? It rings in his head, settles hot behind his eyes. The Chief must notice, because he raises a hand and makes a move toward Steve that sets his heart into a panic. He fumbles for a response before something crazy happens, like getting a hug from an actual, male adult, or god-forbid crying in front of said adult.

“I drove out to Munson’s to buy some pre-rolls. He said if I paid extra his uncle could stitch me up because he was in the army and knows how to do that kind of stuff.” Steve’s rushing to fill the silence, the words tumbling over one another. “I already tried doing it myself–”

“Jesus christ, kid,” Hopper interrupts, muttering under his breath.

“– and I knew it would scar anyways but I couldn’t go to a hospital because they’d call my parents so I paid him a hundred and then Mr. Munson wouldn’t let me leave so they let me stay overnight on the couch.” Steve’s winded by the time he’s done, and sucks in a large breath to keep himself together. Judging by the red splotches on Hopper’s face, he might be feeling the same.

It had been one hell of a night, at least from the bits and pieces Steve actually remembers. The trailer was small and cozy, the space heater lulling him into a post-adrenaline haze. Even though the stitches were painful, Mr. Munson’s hands had been deft, his smile gentle, but his eyes guarded and wary. 

Steve can’t blame him. Most people know the Harrington’s, and it’s not past Steve for him to realize why Mr. Munson would be hesitant to invite him into their home, especially when he was beaten to a pulp. 

But he refused to let Steve go home to an empty house, said it was too dangerous to sleep alone. Munson let out a shriek weirdly reminiscent of Dustin when Wayne refused payment, although Steve still managed to sneak him a twenty for the weed and a few painkillers.

“Wayne’s a good man,” Hopper says. “Guess I’ll owe him one next time I catch his damned nephew out at the quarry again.” He chuckles fondly, eyes fixed on a memory Steve can’t see. But after a moment, Hopper’s back to grilling him. “Joyce mentioned something you said, your folks being gone a lot.”

Even though it’d only been less than a week since he knocked on the Byers’ front door, he’s still surprised she remembers his slip up. It didn’t register as important in the grand scheme of things. At least not in the face of Ms. Byers coming to terms with Will spending time with him.

“They’re home often enough.” Steve's familiar line rolls easy off his tongue. Still, he can’t stop from crossing his arms over his chest as he moves his gaze to the side, pretending his grocery list on the fridge is the most interesting thing in the room. He licks over the small scab leftover on his lip, the only remaining physical evidence of his life’s biggest failure.

“Really?” Hopper says. It’s not a question, so Steve doesn’t answer. “Then tell me where they are, right now. Or the last time you talked to them in person.”

Steve snaps his mouth closed, about to tell the Chief he’d actually talked to his mother on the phone yesterday. She’d called to inform him they’d moved money into his checking account for groceries and cleaning supplies, the house is surely a mess. He’s not actually sure where they are, or if they’re even in the country.

“They’re in Chicago,” Steve lies. Hopper’s already shaking his head.

“No, kid, they’re not.” A rock falls in the pit of Steve’s stomach, dread creeping up the back of his neck as Hopper pushes on. “I got your dad’s secretary's number from the Mayor. They’ve been in New York for three weeks, and they’re headed to Toronto tomorrow for another week and a half.”

“You called them?” Steve practically shouts. He shoots a glance towards the kitchen door. The muted sound of the kids’ arguing filters in from the living room, and it seems they haven’t noticed his outburst. 

Heat’s building behind his eyes, a wet sheen blurring his vision. The scab on his lip is starting to peel again, and he can’t stop the nervous tapping of his foot on the spotless tile floor.

But Hopper’s already clocked Steve’s cresting panic before he can shove the fear back in the box. The Chief holds up his hands, and Steve wonders if he looks like a spooked animal. 

“I didn’t mention you, or what happened. All I said was I needed some legal advice, and wanted to know when they’d be back in town.” Hopper’s tone is quiet, his words measured and slow. His eyes are wide, nervous.

Steve hesitates before looking up at him. “So?” He knows his voice is small, like a sad, pathetic child’s voice. Because even though he knows it doesn’t matter, he’s compelled to ask like he always used to. He wonders if there’ll always be some part of him who waits for a knock on the front door.

He hopes not.

When Hopper only responds with a shake of his head, mouth pinched into a firm line, Steve freezes, body tense. He tilts his head back fruitlessly as the tears drip down his cheeks. Steve presses the palms of his hands into his eyes hard enough to see stars, but it’s still no use. 

It doesn’t help. His lip starts to wobble even as he chews it bloody. There’s a rock lodged in the back of his throat, and his body heaves with a shameful sob that breaks the dam open.

He falls into a crouch on the ground, balanced on the balls of his feet. Hidden from the doorway behind the kitchen counter, he drops his head in his hands. If he can’t will himself to stop, Steve can at least hide himself away, hope Hopper’s uncomfortable enough he just leaves and they can both pretend this never happened.

But instead Steve feels warm, heavy arms sling around his back. He’s being pulled forward and slightly sideways, when his face hits the rough polyester scratch of the Chief’s uniform as he tucks Steve into his side. 

Hopper should be yelling at him to man up, to get it together, to live up to the Harrington name. He should feel embarrassed, ashamed. 

Instead, it’s a paternal warmth Steve’s never experienced. Hopper shushes Steve like a child, tells him over and over that he’s ok, everything’s going to be ok. Except Steve knows that that isn’t true, not always.

“The kids almost died, and it was my fault.” His voice is wet and his words are soaked together through the clog in his throat.

“Steve,” Hopper cuts in, but Steve plows over him like he hadn’t said anything.

“What if Max hadn’t stopped him, and he’d killed Lucas?” Steve’s shaking, gasping for breath. “I should’ve fought him off, thrown him off me when he pinned me to the ground.” He can faintly hear Hopper telling him to breathe, but he sounds so far away and Steve’s lungs are collapsing and his heart is pounding, pounding, pounding. 

He’s vomiting words he’s tried so hard to keep locked away, spilling them all over the kitchen floor for everyone to see how sick and fucked up Steve Harrington really is when no one’s looking. “Billy smiled when I hit him, screamed like it was fun when he smashed that plate on my head. He just kept hitting me and hitting me and hitting me. And– and it hurt. Everything hurt.”

“Steve,” Hop whispers into the top of his head. It’s scary, how soft it feels.

“Hop, I– ” Steve chokes, forcing the confession out of his chest with all the strength he’s got left– “I think I almost died.”

The gruff man doesn’t say anything. His large hand moves to cradle the back of Steve’s head as he continues to fall apart in his overly large arms. Hop’s stomach is squishy like a pillow, but Steve can still hear the guy’s strong, steady heartbeat from where his head is laid on his chest.

Steve hones in on the sound, matches his breathing to the pulse until he’s calmed. Exhausted, he moves to pull away, and Hop finally lets him. When they stand up, Steve notices Hop’s eyes are wet, although his cheeks are dry.

Hopper opens and closes his mouth a few times before dragging his hands down his face. He sniffles, loud and gross like a man who’s not used to being around people. It’s a little disgusting, and Steve can’t help but scoff at the sound. Hopper peaks out at him over the edges of his fingers where they drag down his eyes. 

The doorbell chimes throughout the house, and the shuffling of scattered feet break out from the living room. Before Steve can turn away, the kitchen door swings open.

It’s El, slowly exploring the kitchen with curious eyes before settling on the men across the kitchen. She tilts her head to the side, examining Steve like she’s carefully cataloguing his blotchy cheeks, the snot still clinging to the tip of his nose, his mussed up hair and labored breaths. 

She moves towards him, preparing to say something, when Mike shouts from the foyer, “nevermind, El, we found the money on the table” yet she doesn’t make a move to rejoin them. She’s still staring at Steve, still moving closer. 

Hopper’s watching her carefully but doesn’t say anything, so Steve doesn’t do anything. He’s trapped in her big, brown eyes, and maybe that’s one of her super powers, putting people in a trance by being too adorable.

“You’re sad, Steve,” she asks, a lilt in her slightly monotone voice.

He clears his throat. “Yes. Yeah, I am.” Steve drags his sleeve across his face so hard that it reddens.

El’s smile is gentle, but without a trace of pity or teasing, like he’d get from the other kids. Well, except maybe Will.

She reaches out to grab his hand and says, like she’s repeating a mantra that’s told to her over and over, “everyone gets sad sometimes, and that’s ok” and Steve does his best not to cry again. He squeezes her tiny hand in his, and she squeezes back.

“El, honey,” Hopper says, sniffling again like he’s sucking a noodle up through his nose. El scrunches her nose and visibly shutters at the noise. When she catches Steve’s matchin expression, they break out into a fit of giggles. Hopper only rolls his eyes at them. “Can you keep the kids busy so they don’t come in here?”

She nods.

“Without telling them why,” Steve pleads.

Her eyebrows pinch together, lips puckered into a frown. “But friends don’t lie.”

“Sometimes it’s to keep someone safe,” Hopper answers her unspoken question.

El tilts her head again, this time to the other side as she considers his argument. Steve’s compelled to defend himself, he doesn’t need to be kept safe from the kids. But he also doesn’t want to listen to their incessant teasing, so he keeps his objections to himself.

She looks over her shoulder towards the noise, shouting now about where to find paper plates and napkins. Mike’s bitching can be heard above the rest, and Steve catches El rolling her eyes. “Sometimes they are mouth-breathers too.”

Steve’s not sure what that means, but Hopper barks out a laugh and she giggles like she said a swear word. But she squeezes his hand again and leaves. 

It’s official, the girls are his favorites.

“Alright kid, listen up, because I’ve got a deal for you.” Hopper looks completely unphased, like the last ten minutes never happened. Steve can still feel the heat splotched on his neck and cheeks, the burn in the back of his throat. He doesn’t think he’ll forget this for a long time.

“I thought you needed a favor?”

“Yeah, well, now it’s an ultimatum. And you’re going to take it.”

Steve scoffs, amused at the surety of Hopper’s tone and the glint in his eye. The man must be waiting for him to respond, but Steve just raises his eyebrow. Hopper lets out an unflattering snort, but takes the hint to continue.

He appreciates the change in tone, thinks maybe Hopper did it on purpose. Like he was just as anxious and awkward as Steve felt. But now, back on familiar ground, Steve’s lighter than he’s felt in months.

“You’re going to babysit El.” Hopper says it like it’s a fact, like Steve’s already agreed to it. Like it’s not a big deal to have someone like El out in the general public when none of them are even entirely sure she’s safe in Hawkins.

Steve knew the moment he left the Munson’s trailer, fresh as a bruised peach with swollen stitches in his forehead, that he was going to put himself in charge of the kids. Planned on going to Dustin’s the very next day to talk with Claudia about it.

He’d strategized and planned each parent down to the details– other than Mike, which was a bit of a disaster. Some of them took more convincing than others, but in the end they’d all given him a chance to prove himself capable. It’s everything Steve’s hoped for.

But he’d never even considered El. Not because he doesn’t know her, even though it’s true. Steve didn’t really know Will either, yet that didn’t stop Steve from including the kid in his plans.

No he just never thought to ask after El because he thought it was, like, illegal. She’s more than just an awkward pre-teen girl. She’s a superhero, she’s on the run, she doesn’t go to school, barely sees the Party. Steve just assumed El was off limits.

She doesn’t need protection… does she?

A hard hand clasped on his shoulder breaks Steve’s daze.

“If the last year has taught me anything, Steve, is that she deserves to live her life around people that care about her. El needs her friends– even goddamned Wheeler.” Hopper huffs, rolls his eyes and, yeah, Steve can empathize. Mike is exhausting. “But she’s just a kid, and I need to leave her with someone I can trust. Some place where I know she’s safe and will be protected at all costs.”

Steve feels vibrations begin to rack through his body again. He can’t bear to cry a second time, can’t handle having to explain to Hop that he’s going to have to find someone else to fit all of those criteria. Because clearly the man wasn’t listening when Steve explained how he almost died failing to save the kids. But before he can argue, Hopper cuts him off.

“I know what you’re thinking, Steve. You protected those kids the best you could, better than anyone else in your situation would’ve been able. You put yourself between them and death more than once that night. That’s not something everyone’s got in them, kid. That’s something special– and it’s exactly what El needs. What I need.”

“I mean, of course. I’d love– thank you.” Hop shakes his head, again cutting Steve off mid-blabber.

“The ultimatum, kid, remember?” He waits until Steve nods before he explains himself. “The deal is, if you’re watching her for me, then you’re going to let me watch out for you too.”

That brings Steve to a halt. His brow pinches together as he puzzles out what exactly Hop means by watching out for him too. He just said he trusts Steve enough to watch El, but now it sounds almost as if he’s backtracking.

“Jesus I can hear the gears in your head cranking away, Harrington.” Hopper drops his other hand on Steve’s shoulder. He’s being held in place by two massive mitts on his shoulders and he can’t figure out if the weight is a comfort or a prison.

“I don’t get it,” Steve says, shaking his head.

The Chief exhales rough through his nose, and hangs his head. Anxiety sparks through Steve again until Hop shakes him lightly.

“If El’s going to be hanging around here, that means sometimes I’m going to be hanging around here, and you’re going to let me,” Hopper says with a small smirk on his face. “You’re going to let me bring groceries over and cook dinner while you do your homework. You’re going to come by the cabin every once in a while to watch the basketball game. You’re also going to tell me when your parents call or when they’re in town”

Steve knows there’s more to Hopper’s torturously long list of conditions, but he doesn’t want to hear it. The Chief’s grip is a firm hold as he tries to break loose. “Look, Chief, I don’t need someone–”

“And!” Hopper shouts, a manic grin spreads across his face. It’s such a stark contrast to the man’s normal scowl it stops Steve in his tracks. Hopper’s expression is wild, like he’s enjoying Steve’s feeble attempts at defending himself. “Holidays are a requirement, Harrington. Hot cocoa, old Christmas movies, decorating the tree. New Year’s Eve. Birthdays. All of it.”

Steve’s at a loss for words. He knows what this is, can spot a shakedown when he sees one. Except this doesn’t feel hostile, not like when his dad always threatened to take the car away if Steve didn’t medal in swimming or score during a game. This is uncomfortable, but– nice? 

A lot like how this entire conversation has been.

“Umm,” Steve tries, “I can’t leave–”

“Don’t argue with me, Steve.”

“Can I bring Max?” Steve asks as Hopper stares at him. “To the holidays, and stuff. I’ll do it if I can bring Max too.”

Hopper’s manic grin fades into a more genuine smile as he stands upright. He pulls Steve into another hug before releasing him to ruffle his hair. Steve squawks, immediately mortified at how Dustin-esque it sounds. 

“Of course you can bring Max.”

They make their way back to the living room and sure enough, the pizza is already almost gone. Scraps of crust and dirty napkins litter the floor. The coffee table is a mess of colored pencils, crayons, sketch pads, and pencils. 

He’s worried it’s still awkward between the kids, and hopes El’s ok with Hopper leaving her here for a few hours. She still doesn’t know Steve, doesn’t know Will or Max either. But when he notices the Party, his anxieties melt from his shoulders. He can’t help the smile that crinkles his eyes at the sight of them

Will’s sitting facing the group, drawing a giant purple dragon with a small castle off in the distance. Steve notices each kid has a sketchpad. Some are rather good, close to matching Will’s– Lucas and Max– while others could use some work– Dusin, El, and Mike.

But they’re laughing as Max draws a comically large skateboard under her green dragon. El’s sat between her and Mike, eyes wide and intense as Max promises to show off her skateboard the next time she sees her. 

He hears the soft click of the front door behind him, and the rumbling of Hopper’s truck as it pulls out of the driveway. Dustin catches sight of him, practically scrambles to his feet as he drags Steve into the living room, yanking him down in the open spot next to him and thrusts a sketchpad in Steve’s hands.

Lucas hands him a plate with two pieces of pepperoni he saved just for Steve, and Dustin helps him catch up before Will shows them how to draw a knight. El finds Steve a yellow colored pencil when he can’t find one. Max crawls to sit next to him and smacks Mike on the back of the head when he says Steve’s castle looks haunted, little wisps of chimney smoke mistaken for ghosts.

It’s nothing. 

It’s just a seventeen year old boy, sitting in the middle of a gaggle of kids, coloring and eating pizza and making each other laugh. Settled and relaxed in a way he never expected after the horrors from the past year. And he knows, without a doubt, he’d do it all over again if it meant he’d end up right here.  It’d be nothing to most people but it’s everything to Steve, because for the first time in his life, he’s well and truly happy.

[veetyuh]

I'm reminded of that "antishipping isn't purity culture because it isn't conservative christianity" post... And I think I've done some unpacking on why it triggers me so much.

I was an intersex child shoved into the role of a female, in a rural & conservative Christian environment. I've had not just purity culture shoved down my throat, but also the shame of not being able to meet the expectations put on women in that environment.

It's not just cover up, slut. That implies I had something to show off, to begin with. And men still want to ogle you and imagine what your body is like beneath that modest dress. So here, literal child. Have this shapewear to make your figure conform to that of a developing middle school female's under your clothes.

It's contradictory that way. You have to try to be unappealing to not 'tempt' men, but you still need to be appealing in the sense of conventional female attractiveness. Moreover, you must not think about men or sex at all. But you cannot be asexual — your parents demand grandchildren.

Antis do the same with their queer representation. It's the same contradictory expectations... They champion the idea of breaking societal norms through queerness (i.e. the idea of 'queer as in fuck you'), then demand that every nuclear family norm be met. Queer characters must be disruptive without actually disrupting anything. And the contradictions apply to fans, too — you're homophobic if you don't like a canon queer ship, and you're fetishistic if you like queer ships too much. (There are more, but I'd be stuck here forever if I listed them all. 😅)

There's also the obvious — fictional sins being as bad as things done in real life. There's Matthew 5, which includes so many popular verses about thought control that Christians use, and equates bad thought to bad doing.

27 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ 28 But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. 29 If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. 30 And if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell.

And fuck if antis aren't cutting off their entire goddamn arm and gouging out both eyes.

It's not just purity culture they embody, though — it's the satanic panic, too. Good lord the amount of times my grandma wouldn't let me watch Ghost Hunters because she thought I was welcoming demons into the home, or her concern for me watching horror movies because I'd surely become more violent. It's the same shit, different horse.

On a more light-hearted note, they play the same game that Christian demoninations do, too. I was Baptist, and considered the Methodists okay. But the Catholics? No, keep that shit away from me. Why are you worshipping Mary? That's idolatry! How horrible, to openly spit in God's face. When I read antis' DNI lists rattling off forbidden, unredeemable fandoms, it feels the same way, haha.

But what really seals the deal for me is how they smile in your face and promise they're just looking out for you. Christians do that, too. "We want you to get better. We want to help you. You're on a dark path." While they break your bones to force you into their mold. You may not be hurting anyone on your dark path, but they'll convince you that you ARE. You're hurting yourself "spiritually," you're hurting the community, your family, by being an abomination to God. You're hurting everyone and yourself, you just need us to help you realize it. Antis feel the exact same. I block them pre-emptively because I cannot handle having that shit directed at me again.

Moreover, their insults feel the same. The childish "icky," the ad hominems. It's too reminiscent for me. Of my mom hating my icky facial hair and my classmates making fun of my masc traits when they thought I couldn't hear; you are a gross person!!1! Ew!!!

It's funny that antis are so often anti-kink, considering they're so fucking intent on giving me a golden shower and telling me it's rain. I hope they're careful not to choke on the homophobic, pedophilic pastor cock they're sucking.

[superpeeboy]

I wanna play the Velma Staplebot headcanons game!!

okok so Velma is Business’s personal assistant and she is very loyal to him. . this is just in the movie and lego.com actually this is true.

I think, after the events of the movie, Velma would still be an assistant to Business! Because most of her job wasn’t to hunting master builders it was to help assist Business with scheduling (the scheduling thing is TRUE thanks again lego Velma is innocent she never did anything wrong ever…)

Business is kinda a manchild sorry but he just absolutely would not be able to take care of himself he would stick a fork in an outlet if you looked away from him for two seconds… so Velma would help him not do that. She’s still his assistant, just also in the home too. And socially sometimes too, as you can see in the gif in the beginning she is alerting Business because the camera is on them! so basically Velma is kind of a caretaker for Business.

Velma is just as bothered by Business’s unique personality as anyone else. bcuz hes an annoying old man. i think Velma has more patience with him than others but it is by no means a lot of patience. hes annoying. i think Velma gets annoyed easily anyways I think she has a bit of temper and she just feels loyal to Business for creating her so he gets to be a little annoying before she tells him to cut the shit.

Velma is effectively tfem because all the robots are made genderless. also she likes women 🤫

I think Velma has a bit of jealousy towards GCBC for being leagues more popular than her when they are both assistants for the same guy (SAVE HER SAVE THE BACKGROUND CHARACTER!! SAVE HER!!!)

Velma says “dot-dot-dot.” or “ellipses.” outloud when she is speechless. whcih is often because some people are stupid.

Velma

ALSO ADDING SOME SPECIFIC CHARCATER INTERVATIONS I MADE UP WITH AZALEA theres some golfingbuddies here beware..

velma can tolerate benny and business in isolation but if they are both present at the same time its a nightmare. they do not act right.

Ih my god imagine velma sneaking vegetables into businesses food cuz he refuses to eat his vegetables EVEN THOUGH HE IS A GROWNA SS MAN

Also i think he[business] licks the oreo stuff and then doesnt eat the cookies or like hands them to someone else but they have business saliva on tjem?? So nobody likes it. also 100%. he judt piles all the cookies on his desk and when he's done shoves them into the trash cna He could literally make them with more stuffing theyre octan brand oreos but hes like. NO! NO WE NEED MORE MONEY!!!! velmas like we can always make ones specifically for you and he's all like NOOOOOO WASTE OF MONEY NONONO NO!

theyd[golfingbuddies’d] be at like at an octan mcdonalds playplace or some shit and theyd be trying to drown eachother in the ballpit and business would get mad and velma would have to drive them both home because business and benny both cant drive despite being 50 year old men and theyd have their arms crossed in the backseats and theyd be glaring at eachother and velma would be so fucking upset because these are GROWN ASS MEN

Velma is a sweat at candy crush and business asks her to help beat levels, Velmaaaaaa i cant beat level 228 on candy crush… can you help mee

velma watching tv in the living room and she hears benny in the distance saying “trust me dude, its perfectly safe to put a knife in the toaster.” she has never turned aorund so fast

like when ur brocploi isnt flavorless and boiled way too long it's good woa. imean ik some ppl like flavorles and boilrd BUT not my thig ya feel (business likes it flavorless and boiled) benny over for dinner witj business and he grabs velma’s coat like anlittle orphan and is like… can u cook sometjing Edible for me Where do uou put the seasoning in this house maam… benny asking velma for some goddamn pepper at the least

She'd[velma’d] probably lose it if they[golfingbuddies] ever had a road trip together because i think after an hour in a car together benny and business would start fighting IN THE CAR and velma would have to pull the “IF YOU TWO DONT KNOCK IT OFF RIGHT THIS SECOND IM TURNING THIS CAR AROUND.”

They[golfingbuddies] might do that thing where they fight and then velma walks in and they pretend they were just hanging out while business has liek. an entire bite taken out of his hair. ANd then velma leaves and they keep fighting

I think business acts like a cat as in when he hasnt eaten for a normal amount of time he acts like he has been starving for years, Like when its a bit before lunchtime he will complain sooooo much. GIRL LUNCH IS IN LIKE 3 MINUTES CALM DOWN YOURE THE BOSS YOU COULD LITERALLY GO GET LUNCH NOW AND NOBODY WOULD BE ABLE TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT (he needs to follw the schedule. That he made up.) he goes to velma like VELMAAAA IM HUNGRY and velma's just. you-own-all-the-restaurants-in-the-area-sir

GOD JOW I HAVE THE VISION OF BUSINESS WITH A SUPER TALL ICE CREAM CONE AND THEN IT FALLS AND HE STARTS CRYING, if eel like this would happen multiple times and at some point velma just demands he can only get Two Scoops of ice cream AT MOST and then he gets so upset YOURE NOT THE BOSS OFME I CAN GET AS MUCH ICW CREAM AS I WANT.and then velma gets mad.

he gets two scoops.

(business has to sit in the back cuz he puts his feet on the dashwhen hes in the front) … i think he kicks the seat infront of him like a literal toddler. istg he tries it once and then velma does this and he never tries it again