#also I just want to know more about Robbie and that would have been a good chance to start

[moonsrune]

"Seems like a normal day to me," Emma responds with slight trepidation. She can tell that her friend is frazzled. It doesn't take a detective to realize why. Brooke already gave her all the clues last night when she said some hot guy was coming over her house to help her 'study'. Emma didn't want to talk about Brooke behind her back but couldn't help gossiping with Riley all night about her mystery man. In the end, they narrowed it down to three people: Shawn, Robby, and Erik. They were all blond and a year older but Shawn was the only smart one. His father runs the town distillery and is responsible for turning their small town into one of their first media frenzies when he released an alcoholic beverage that was combined with an energy drink that led to many deaths involving teenagers and college students. The controversy surrounding the family name should have been detrimental to Shawn but instead it only made him more popular among the students of Riverwood. "You're probably just overstimulated because of the quiz." She wants to ask about the study session but doesn't want to push. Therefore, she waits for Brooke to bring it up. Meanwhile, she frowns when she hears Riley didn't come to school because of her period. That was such a lie. Things got awkward when Emma brought up sleeping over her house. Now she probably doesn't want to face her. It didn't help that they both got pretty drunk and a slight argument ended their night in equal frustration. Thanks to coming home drunk, Emma could no longer attend Noel's upcoming Hawaiian-themed party.

"Riley and I got into a bit of a fight last night and now I'm not allowed to go to Noel's party. I doubt she has her period." Emma wasn't a gossiper by any means, but she was a little ticked off and moody today. "She's so weird about people coming to her house so I had to go home drunk at three in the morning and my mom woke up." Well, she didn't just wake up. She had a guy over and they were in the kitchen together but Emma wasn't about to let that slip. It was far too traumatizing to bring up. "Also, why would Jake ask you a bunch of questions? Did something happen with him last night?" Or was this still about Noel's party two weeks ago? Unfortunately, everyone knows about Nina and Jake's sleazy night together. As they reach their usual table, Emma bites into her bottom lip. Fuck, she doesn't even know how to tell Brooke that she already slipped up about her study session last night. When Riley shut her down, Emma called Will. She asked if she could come over and he said he was out with Jake. Clearly he wasn't because Jake was home and spying on Brooke. Or trying to. She explained the situation on why she couldn't go to Brooke's or Riley's but in the end, she still had to go home and face her mom. "I won't tell anyone..." she fidgets with her fingers before nervously glancing up at Jake and Will who join their table. That's also when Emma notices Dylan coming over to their table. He wasn't blond but he was hot and looking directly at Brooke. "Hey, mind if I join?" He asks Brooke before taking a seat where Emma would have sat if she wasn't occupying Riley's seat. With Dylan's presence, Jake was cockblocked even harder. He wanted to talk about the picture she sent him last night but now he can't. Tyler shifts uncomfortably away from Nina who tries playing with his hair. She was obviously trying to establish some sort of possession over him in front of everyone else. "As you probably heard, Noel is throwing a lūʻau tonight. If you don't already have a date, I would love to take you." Dylan asks Brooke. Jake exchanges looks with Will while Tyler grows tense under Nina's claws.

I wanted more, but you didn't......

And....

Because you're not over Jake, I won't do what I want to do to you....

Those two statements, damning as they could be, lived rent free in her head ever since he'd initially said them. They haunted her. Every time she closed her eyes, or blinked... they'd replay over and over and over again behind her eyelids. As did the sexy glint in Tyler's eyes the moment he left her bedroom. It was a miracle Brooke could even focus on Mrs. Martin's Algebra quiz. She remembered some things Tyler taught her. If it weren't for his examples and comparisons, she probably wouldn't have been able to relate to the material and therefore would've forgotten everything she learned.

The test was during fourth period, right before lunch. Brooke felt anxious the whole time. She'd occasionally nibble on the end of her pen until she noticed someone was staring at her. Some guy on the football team, who used to surf with Jake. The look he gave Brooke felt oddly invasive and intimate. She tried ignoring it as she went back to filling out her answers. When the bell rung, she turned her paper in and treaded alongside Emma to the cafeteria. "Is it just me or this day going by so slow?"

After the secret, study session with Tyler that's left Brooke's mind in a tizzy... the last thing she wanted to do was face him in front of their friends. Would it be awkward? Would she have to sit there and watch Nina fawn all over him? While knowing she fucked her now, ex boyfriend? Speaking of that.... in comes Jake, highfiving his jock friends while Brooke joins the lunch line with Emma.... "So update, Riley's not here today. She texted me this morning and said she got her period, so she was staying home. Which means... I need you to sit by me at the end of our table. This way, I can avoid Jake and his hundred and one questions." But also so she could, distance herself from Nina and Tyler and any PDA their ringleader might dish just to torture her. "Also, it's safe to say that... study date from last night is probably not going to go anywhere. So, try not to mention it to anyone else, okay?"

[oliveroctavius]

I forgot that the space shuttle malfunction happened pre-spider bite in 1610 so Jameson's son is just dead

[withahappyrefrain]

The 5 Times You Flirted With Bob + The 1 Time He Picked Up on It

Summary: You've fallen for your friend and have decided to drop some hints that you're flirting. Unfortunately, Bob doesn't realize that immediately.

Warnings: Language, no y/n, female reader, reader has a callsign (Honey)

Thank you to @dissonannce for this amazing idea. Thank you @acewritesfics for the dividers!

"Your hands are so big."

It took Bob a moment to register that you were in fact, talking to him.

"Oh! Um yeah. My ma made me do piano because she felt I was given the hands for them," Bob wiggled his fingers for extra effect, "Y'know, since they're so long."

Yes, they were quite long. It was one of the first things you noticed about Bob. Well, after you noticed his beautiful blue eyes, his endearing lopsided smile, the way he was so considerate of everyone else, so gentle, and yet there was an underlying confidence about him. He was sure of himself, but he didn't feel the need to brag.

Who could blame you for falling head over heels for him?

You flashed him a smile, hand reaching towards his.

"It's just, your hand is so much bigger than mine. See?" You propped his arm up, allowing your palm to press against his, both your fingers spread out to showcase the difference in size.

"See? My hand is so small compared to yours," You giggled. Bob looked down at your hands. Your breath hitched, your fingers twitching, dying to entwine with his.

"Yeah, there is quite a difference in size," Bob said, giving you that small smile you adored so much. That smile gave you the confidence to entwine your fingers with his.

"I think they fit pretty well together, see?" He wasn't letting go. He was still smiling as he looked down at your hand holding his.

Maybe this was finally it, he'd finally realized that you liked him and would-

"I'm gonna go get some more peanuts, can I get ya anything?"

You mustered up a smile, trying to cover up your disappointment, "I'll take a water. Thanks Robby."

As soon as he left, you shot Jake a dirty look, "Seresin, you said that shit would work!"

Jake, who had been pretending to play a game of pool with Bradley, Javy, and Mickey, put his hands up in defense, "Because it usually does! Everyone knows when a girl compares hand sizes it means she wants you!"

"Everyone but Bob apparently," Javy muttered.

"Maybe you just need to be more obvious?" Mickey suggested.

You sighed. You knew Bob. The last thing you wanted was to be so blunt it would overwhelm him. But at the same time, you two had been doing this whole 'friends but also more than that and I'm pretty sure we're flirting?' for the last month and you were getting annoyed with it how seemed to be going nowhere.

Perhaps Mickey was right. You were going to have to be a bit more obvious.

"Bee? You ready?" Bob called out from your living room. Bob's nickname of your callsign (Honey) always brought a smile to your face, as well as heat to your cheeks.

"Almost! Can I get your thoughts on this top?" You asked as you walked in.

"Yeah, I'm sure you look-oh." Bob's eyes widened as he took in the green top you were wearing.

It was tighter than the shirts you normally wore, highlighting your breasts. The fabric stopped right at the end of your rib cage, showing off your stomach and bringing attention to your high waisted jeans, which according to Jake "did wonders for your ass".

"What do you think?" You clasped your hands together, the action causing your breasts to stick out even further.

"Um the uh, the color is really great on you. B-brings out your eyes," Bob said, his eyes looking everywhere except you.

With the way his cheeks were bright red, it gave you confidence to step forward, your body now inches away from his, "I was hoping it would bring out something else besides my eyes Robby."

"I mean you you look great in everything you wear! So mission accomplished," Bob said quickly, his hands fidgeting with his car keys.

"Anything else you want to say about the outfit Robby? I really value your opinion." You stood on the tips of your toes, bringing your chest closer to Bob's face.

It was the first time since you walked in that his eyes landed on your chest. He cleared his throat, as if he was gathering up the courage to say it.

"You should grab a jacket, it's supposed to go down to the low sixties tonight," He said, turning around to head out the door.

God damn it.

You grabbed your phone, quickly texting the group.

Honey: We need to go to Plan C.

Rooster: Plan C?! You're saying the top didn't work?

Bagman: Dude, your tits were like out.

Rooster: Maybe they weren't out enough?

Coyote: If they were out any more, Honey would be getting a public indecency charge.

Phoenix: Maybe we shouldn't use clothes to express our feelings? Just a thought 🤦🏽

Fanboy: Yeah Nat, that's plan C.

Payback: Can we not blow up the group chat tonight? The finale of Insecure is on.

Your right leg bounced up and down in nervous anticipation, your eyes never leaving the entrance to the Hard Deck.

"You don't think this is too much, is it?" You asked your friends/coworkers.

"Nah, it'll be perfect!" Mickey reassured you.

"You and Bob are going to walk out of here holding hands by the end of the night, guarantee it," Jake commented as he lined up the balls for a round of pool.

It took all your strength not to jump out of your seat when you saw Bob walk in. His iridescent blue eyes scanned the room, landing on you. He always seemed to search for you, which had to be a sign that he wanted more, that he felt the same way as you did.

You greeted him with a smile, patting the empty seat next to him.

"Hey Robby! I got something for you!" You called out.

Bob just smiled as he sat down, "I see you got my signature: water and peanuts. Thanks Bee!"

You giggled, shaking your head, "Yes, but that's not just it. These are for you!"

Bob stared at the bouquet of flowers you were holding out for him.

"For me? These are for me?" He asked, eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes! I was just thinking, like why is giving guys flowers not a thing? Because it totally should be! And no one deserves these flowers more than you Robby," You explained, a hopeful smile adorning your face.

Bob gently took the bouquet, admiring each flower.

"I thought they would go well with your eyes-that's why a most of them are yellow," you explained, trying to hide how nervous you were.

"These are perfect," Bob said before leaning down to smell the flowers.

"Really? Each flower has a different meaning," you began, hoping that by fidgeting with your hands, you'd be able to conceal your nerves.

Bob simply smiled, his face the epitome of saccharine, "Oh, I already know."

Your breath hitched, "You do?"

Bob nodded, "Oh yeah! Alstroemerias symbolize support, sunflowers are for loyalty, and violets stand for intuition!"

He wasn't wrong. You couldn't tell if you were upset by that or the fact that Mickey forgot flowers can have more than one meaning.

Time for Plan D.

"Hey Robby! You ready to watch hot people make poor decisions?"

"Ready as I'll ever-that's new," Bob said softly, taking in the new loungewear you had on for your biweekly Love Island watch.

"Oh this? I think I got it last week," you said as you let Bob into your apartment, "It's super comfy and it has pockets!"

It also was cut low, showing off your cleavage, as well as the tops of your thigh.

"Yeah, the uh, color looks really good on you Bee," Bob commented. The compliment brought a smile to your face. He noticed you, noticed you were wearing something new, and seemed to be noticing your now exposed skin.

"Well, let's go see if these folks gain any common sense," you grabbed his hand, practically beaming at how your hand fit perfectly in his.

"Somehow I doubt it," Bob chuckled.

When he offered to hold the popcorn for while you two watched, you weren't disappointed. Sure, it meant you weren't able to hold his hand. But it did mean you could move closer to him, your thighs practically touching.

"I really hope he doesn't take her back," Bob muttered, his eyes glued to the screen.

"He will. They always do," you sighed, gently moving your head so it rested against one of his broad shoulders.

If your action had any effect on Bob, he didn't show it. Which was the problem.

"I would pick you in the recoupling," You revealed, hoping that would be enough, would finally be enough.

Bob smiled, placing a hand on your knee, "That's kind of you Bee. But I think friendship couples go against the nature of the show."

It took everything in you not to scream.

The rest of the night was just a typical Love Island watch night, no touching, no initiating, no declarations of love, and ending with Bob giving you a friendly hug goodbye.

With a sigh, you flopped onto your bed to check your messages.

Bagman: Bee, please tell us it worked and you're marking sweet love to baby on board

Phoenix: you're disgusting Seresin.

Rooster: why would they stop fucking just to text you Bagman?

Bagman: so we can pop some champagne to celebrate

Fanboy: Why the fuck is would we do that?

Coyote: It's a big event! Bee told Bob how she feels AND Bob's getting laid!

Payback: Can I just get one night of peace? Just one night?

You: No one's doing anything bc it didn't work!

Rooster: Not trying to be rude, but weren't you like almost naked?

Bagman: Like 52% nude.

Phoenix: JFC, we're going to plan E folks.

Coyote: Is that when we just lock them in a closet?

Bagman: No that's plan G

"Hey Bee!"

The cheerful, charming voice always brought a smile to your face.

"Hi Robby!" You greeted him with a hug, the comforting scent of rosemary filling your nostrils, "You smell really nice."

"Oh um thanks," A hand flew to the back of Bob's neck, a nervous (and also adorable) habit, "Wanted to smell nice after doing all those pushups out in the sun."

"Well it worked, you smell great," One of your hands reached up to the nape of his neck, toying with the hair that had curled at the end, "Look great too."

The tops of Bob's cheeks were now a dusty pink, "It's just a white Tshirt."

You took a step forward, placing your hands on his chest, "It's a good look Robby. Shows off your muscles. I like it on you.

Bob's lips parted, then promptly closed.

"Uh, t-thanks Bee." He had to know now that you were flirting with him. It was clear as day.

Feeling confident, your hands trailed down to his, grasping them, "We should dance!"

You didn't wait for Bob to answer, dragging him out to the middle of the floor. The sounds of Bradley covering Frankie Valli (begrudgingly, as apparently Jerry Lee Lewis was better) filled the bar.

After a few minutes, Bob's shoulders visibly relaxed, a smile spreading across his face. You threw your head back laughing as he bust out a goofy dance move.

Everyone thought Bob was shy, but that wasn't the case. He was observant, determined to get a good read on someone so he knew how to approach the situation accordingly. Once he was comfortable, his personality shined and he was a sweet, goofy man who you adored with all your heart.

The grin you had was so wide, your cheeks were beginning to hurt. But you couldn't stop, not when he was twirling you around.

"Where did you learn to dance like that?" You asked, having to say it into his ear so he could hear your voice above the music.

Bob shrugged, "I come from a big family. When you know you're going to a lot of weddings, knowing how to dance helps. That and my mom made me do cotillion."

"Well, all that practice paid off. You're a great dance partner Robby." You rested your chin against his broad chest, looking up to meet eyes bluer than the ocean.

In that moment, all you could do was focus on him. The way the corner of his eyes creased when he truly smiled, his comforting scent, his pink, thin lips that you were dying to feel on yours.

You wondered if he could hear your heart pounding, if he could feel it since your body was practically on his.

His hands found their way to your arms, gently placing themselves on your biceps. Was this it? It had to be.

So you stood on the tips of your toes, your lips now closer to his. Your eyes began to close as you leaned in to-

"I gotta go. Jake stuck his foot in his mouth again."

This wasn't a lie. But it still didn't dull your disappointment. Nor did it sedate your growing frustration at this whole situation.

Perhaps you didn't need Plan G or H Perhaps it was time to go with your original plan.

The next time you saw Bob was when Nat threw a small get together to celebrate the end of a long week.

He was wearing that damn white Tshirt again. Whenever he brought his cup of water to his mouth, the fabric stretched across his bicep.

Was he doing this on purpose? Did he know? Consciously or not, that you had fallen for him ever since you two first met at training?

Either way, you were tired of this game you had been playing for the past month.

"Are you sure about this?" Natasha asked.

You simply nodded before taking a shot of vodka. A little liquid courage was always nice.

"Nat, he's oblivious. Honestly, I don't know why we didn't do this the first time," Jake commented as he took the shot glass out of your hand.

"Because we didn't expect him to be that oblivious," Mickey countered.

"Well everyone, wish me luck." You walked out of the kitchen to find Bob still sitting on the couch, glass of water in hand.

His eyes met yours and he gave you a smile sweeter than honey. Your legs began to wobble, whether it was from that smile or your nerves, you couldn't say.

You walked over, making a beeline for him. Bob's eyes widened, his fingers gripping his cup. Your gaze was so intense.

"Hey Bee-oh!" Bob froze as you sat down in his lap, your thighs straddling his lithe hips.

"Hey Robby," your hands found his shoulders, fingers toying with the thin cotton fabric of his shirt.

"Uh Bee, there's um, there's a seat right there," Bob weakly pointed to the empty space next to him.

"I don't want that," you leaned forward, your forehead grazing his, "I want you Robby."

His eyes widened once more, as if he just saw an incoming train, "M-me?"

"Yes. Wanted you ever since that first day of training, when you offered me a mint," you told him.

"I uh, you looked sleepy and mint is known to wake you up and," Bob paused, "Did you say since the first day of training?"

You nodded, smiling at how you were able to see him process this information.

"The first day of training?" He repeated.

"Yes Bob, all you did was offer me a mint and smile to make me fall head over heels for ya," your fingers now went up to the back of his neck, twirling the curled ends of his hair, "Been trying to tell you that for the last month."

Bob opened his mouth, then promptly closed it, his brain still processing everything.

"You good Rob-" You never got to finish your sentence, as Bob decided right then was the best time to press his lips against yours.

His lips were soft and tasted faintly of vanilla, no doubt from the chapstick you watched him reapply. His touch was gentle, his thick fingers ghosting over your thighs, trailing up to your waist. Every move, no matter how small, made your heart fluttered.

Being so close to him, you could smell his aftershave, a mix of eucalyptus and sage. It was intoxicating and you wanted to be surrounded by it all the time, wanted to kiss him all the time.

When he broke away for air, you had to hold back a whimper, your lips desperate for more.

"FINALLY!"

You turned your head to find Bradley, along with Mickey, Natasha, Jake, Javy, and Reuben standing by the doorframe, in perfect view of you and Bob.

You smiled and opened your mouth, ready to make a quick remark. But Bob's fingers hooked underneath your chin, turning your head back to meet his lips again.

Unlike the first kiss, this one was bolder. His lips moved against yours with more confidence. Your whole body felt warm, as if you were floating. His hands now cupped your jawline, which is how you learned that Bob's hands practically covered your whole neck, a discovery that sent you reeling.

Your hands trailed up to his head, desperate to feel his sun kissed locks, desperate to find out if they were as soft as they looked. But just before you could, Bob broke away.

"What?" Anxiety came rushing back, dragging you away from Cloud Nine, your previous location. Did he regret it?

"Let's go."

He moved your body to the empty space on the couch, quickly getting up. You took his hands, allowing him to help you get up. You held onto one hand as he led you to the front door.

"Bob! What are you doing with my backseater?" Javy called out.

"Making up for lost time!"

Maybe you should be a little embarrassed. But how could you? You had finally kissed the man of your dreams, he kissed you back. He wanted to leave with you.

The sounds of the house party fainted, becoming soft background noise as you went outside.

Bob stopped, turning around to face you. Before you could get out a sound, his lips were on you again. His hands pulled your body to his, closing the gap in-between.

You couldn't help but moan when you felt his tongue slide against your bottom lip, immediately granting him entrance. You could hear Bob's breath hitch, his hands roaming across your body, touching your soft skin.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you desperate for more.

"Why do you keep doing that?!"

"I...." His face was flushed, "I meant to ask you if if you drove yourself here. But you looked so kissable. You still do, God I just wanna kiss you again."

"I'm not stopping you Robby," you grinned, stepping towards him, "I'm not stopping you at all."

"Oh don't tell me that darlin'" his Midwestern upbringing laced his words. You always loved his accent, having found it not just unique but also comforting.

Somehow, despite his lips pressed against yours, Bob was able to walk you back to his car, your back meeting the cool metal.

His broad body draped over yours, his tongue frantically exploring your mouth. Your fingers reached up, grasping his hair. It was soft and much thicker than you expected.

What else was there about Bob you had yet to learn? What kind of toothpaste he used, if he drank tea or coffee in the morning. Did he fall asleep to rain sounds or silence? How many pillows were on his bed?

You wanted to know everything.

But right now, you just wanted to kiss Bob.

Your fingers tugged on his hair in an attempt to pull him closer to you. Despite his chest being pressed against yours, it wasn't enough. You wanted all of him.

"We should get in the car," He said, voice breathless. With the way his chest was rising, one would think he had just ran ten miles.

Bob began moving towards the driver's side of his truck, but he stopped, turning back to you.

"I want to take you home," He stated. It sounded like a confession with the way guilt laced his eyes.

"I would love that Robby."

Instead, he just shook his head, "But I shouldn't because you deserve more than that. You deserve a nice date, like that Italian restaurant we always pass when we go to Bradley's. You deserve that and flowers and a lovely dinner with candles and wine that's older than both of us-"

You cut him off by gently pecking his lips, "It's okay Bob. You could take me to that diner up the room from your place tomorrow morning and I'd be elated because I would be with you."

He shook his head, clearly torn between continuing to talk and continuing to kiss you, "But....it's the least I should do. I mean, after all the hints you were dropping. I thought you were just being friendly and-"

"What friend asks another friend to look at their chest?" You asked incredulously.

"I thought maybe we were just really close! That you were really comfortable around me, which is why I didn't think anything regarding what you wore when we watched Love Island. I mean," his face reddened, "I did think about it. Um I thought about it a lot and if you ever want to wear it again, I would not mind-"

"Bob," you stepped forward, placing your hands on his chest.

"I mean, you got me Violets! Those mean loyalty and devotion, as well as delicate love! And believe me I wanted to kiss you at the Hard Deck, but that is entirely Jake's fault-"

"As most things are."

"And looking back it was so obvious and I can't believe I didn't pick up on it," He paused, "Sorry, I I had to get that out. I can take you home or back to my place, whatever you want."

You giggled, delighted by his ramblings. You wanted to hear more of it.

"And now I just want to kiss you. Like all the time," He confessed, his lips moving closer to yours.

"Robby, get in the car," you instructed.

"Oh, um, okay," Bob unlocked his car, moving towards the driver seat.

"No Bob. Get in the back of the car," you instructed.

Bob's brows knitted together in confusion, "But then how will I drive-oh!"

Who knows if you were going to make it back to his place or yours. All you cared about was getting your lips and hands back on Bob Floyd.

[axelsagewrites]

Hello. First of all love your writing. <3

I have a request for you:

can you write a robb stark x reader maybe reader is a ward of the starks and the two have been engaged and best friends since childhood. Then the wedding comes and the reader is nervous and afraid of the wedding night

thank you

Robb Stark*Goodnight Dear Husband

Pairing: Robb Stark x f!reader

Word count: 1594

Warnings: insecurity, worrying about sex, (brief)motherhood, marriage

Masterlist here

you still remember the first night you spent at Winterfell. The day had been so fun. Catelyn gave you a tour of the castle, Ned let you try pick up his sword Ice which you could barely even lift the handle, Jon taught you how to sneak into the kitchens. You even remember meeting Robb.

He was a lanky boy, seven to your six. His knees were knobbly, and his curly hair could barely be controlled no matter how much his mother tried. Freckles scattered his cheeks and there was a shy smile on his chapped lips. “Welcome my lady,” he greeted with a shaky bow which was matched with your own wonky curtsey.

“I like your horse,” he said, pointing to the stuffed animal in your hand. A wide smile beamed onto your face at that, “Would you like to meet my horse? You can ride him if you’d like,” and within moments of arriving you were already fast friends. You didn’t even know you were to marry him yet.

The day was fun but tiring at that. there was a small feast of stew and honey cakes to welcome you however you were relieved to be shown to your room. It was only a corridor away from Robb’s and next to the young Sansa’s and Arya’s.

The bed practically consumed you as you clambered in, snuggling into the furs to try get away from the nipping cold. You watched as the candle flame began to waver just as a wolf howled. Your hands clutched the furs in fear before bravely reaching out to grab your horse.

But it wasn’t there.

You’d left it at the feast. How could you be so foolish? You gently began to sniffle, soft tears falling when you realised you were alone, and the light was nearly out, and you didn’t know where they kept the spare candles. Then there was a knock at the door.

You quickly jumped out of bed, running to the door encase your parents had come to tell you it was time to go home. Instead stood a boy with knobbly knees and unkempt curls holding a stuffed horse. “You forgot this. Were you crying?”

“No,” you sniffled, snatching the horse from his hands, “Its just dusty in here,” Robb nodded, biding goodnight and turning to leave when you grabbed his wrist, “Wait! I-I,” you stammered, “I don’t know where the candles are,” you mumbled.

Robb, no longer even slightly shy, strode into the room, fetching them from a drawer and quickly lighting more for you. “How’s that?”

“Perfect. And thank you,” you said, smiling softly at the boy, a yawn overcoming you again.

“Do you want me to tuck you in?” he offered as you began to clamber into bed, “Its what my mum does when I’m scared,”

“I’m not scared,” you pouted, pulling the covers over yourself, “You can. If you want to. Its up to you,” you said, silently hoping he would which he instantly did. Robb tucked you in, kissing your forehead before turning to leave, “Night Robbie,”

“Night, night,”

-

You were pacing your room so much you wondered if you might wear a hole in the stone floor. Your wedding dress was folded perfectly in a chest by the foot of your bed. There was a box on top of it with your families crest on a broach your parents had gifted you as well as a Stark amulet from Ned and Cat. It also had hair pins, carefully selected by Sansa from the market and a silver ring with a red stone from Robb.

Everything was as it was supposed to be. You were to marry Robb and officially become a Stark. Yet for some reason your corset felt so tight you could hardly breathe despite how lose it was. Your mind was running over drive as your pacing struggled to keep up.

There was a soft knock on the door. You rushed over, flinging it open despite the late hour, to be greeted by your soon to be husband, “Robbie,” you almost gasped, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” he said, coming in without having to ask, “Who were you expecting?”

“No one,” you lied, biting your lip in the way that made Robb raise an eyebrow. “Jon said he’d sneak me some honey cakes after cook went to bed,”

Robb chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair off your face. “You look so pretty,” despite him saying it a hundred times you still felt the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

“You wanna come in?” you asked.

He didn’t need to be told twice and soon you were sat on your bed, your legs over his and your head on his shoulder. It was a peaceful silence. It should have been relaxing but soon your mind began to wonder.

You were to be married tomorrow. There was a gorgeous white dress waiting for you, jewels to match, a new name and title. You were going to move into Robb’s room, be his wife, his comfort, his relief. In all ways soon.

Despite loving Robb, a rarity in marriage, you couldn’t help being scared. Sure, he was attractive, stunning even, and its not like you hadn’t had thoughts about it before but suddenly the wedding night was dawning on you.

Its not like you didn’t want to have sex. From what you had done with Robb you knew it would be good. great even. Orgasmic hopefully. But the idea of it made you tense. Something Robb soon noticed.

“You, okay?” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Yeah, just thinking,” you mumbled as you picked at your fingers, “Just you know. Wedding stuff,”

“You don’t sound too excited sweetheart,” he pouted, tightening his arms around you, “C’mon you can tell me,”

You sighed before moving to face him, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes were so filled with care you could drown in them. “Just worried about what comes next,”

“Kids?” he asked, eyebrows scrunched up.

“No! well now I am but still,” you sighed, closing your eyes so you could finally say the right words, “What if I’m not good at it?” you said, emphasizing the last word making a small oh come from his mouth. “I know it’s stupid- “

“It’s not stupid sweetheart,” he hushed, his hands moving to gently squeeze yours, “But trust me you’ll be good at it,” he chuckled.

“What if I don’t do it right?”

“We’ll figure it out,”

“What if I don’t like it?”

“Then we’ll stop,”

“What if you don’t think I look good?”

“That’s not physically possible,” he said, tilting your chin up with two fingers to give you a soft kiss with his cheeky smile. It quickly turned into a softer face, “Besides we don’t have to do it just because we can,”

You sighed, “I know you want too then,”

Robb shuffled, almost pulling away making you sit up. His shoulders deflated as he sighed, “Of course I want to love. But only if you do. I don’t want to have sex with some girl just because I can. I wanna be with you,” he said, taking your hands, “because I love you,” he managed to get a small smile out of you making him grin, “And because you’re sexy as fuck,”

“Shut up,” you laughed, smacking at his chest, “You can’t blame me for being worried,”

“I’m not blaming you. I’m nervous too,” he admitted making you laugh a little, “What?”

You shrugged, your eyes wandering over him, “Just never imagined you not all confident and suave. Besides you don’t need to be nervous. You’re perfect,” your hand moved to cup his jaw, your thumb running over his cheek bone.

Robb pulled your legs over his lap, pulling you into his side. “That’s how I feel about you. Whatever happens or doesn’t happen or whatever,” he rambled, taking your hands in his, “We’ll do it together and we’ll go slow. I never want to hurt you,”

“And I never wanna lose you,” you said squeezing his hands

“Good,” he said, leaning forward to kiss your lips gently, “Because you’re stuck with me,” you leaned in to return the kiss which started slow and gentle, but a shiver ran down your spine when his hand moved to rest on your hip. Your glorious make out was interrupted by a knock at the door.

It quickly opened just as you and Robb were pulling apart, “Gross,” Jon muttered as he closed the door behind him. “Also, sorry cook was up late tonight getting ready for the wedding,” he said as he handed you the wrapped goods, “speaking of. You.” He said, pointing a finger at Robb, “get to bed. I haven’t been covering for you two for you to get busted in her bed the night before so get,”

Robb sighed as he dragged himself away from you, giving one last peck before he had to go and before Jon would hit him. “And you,” Jon said as he now pointed his finger to you, “Get your beauty sleep. You need it,” he said with a tilted smile making Robb hit him and you laugh.

“Your one to talk now beat it. a lady needs her rest,”

“Uhuh,” Jon said, rolling his eyes but quickly wishing goodnight. He pretended not to notice Robb giving you a goodnight kiss and instead waited in the hall.

“I’ll see you tomorrow love wife even,” he grinned.

“Goodnight, dear husband,”

“Goodnight sweet wife,”

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[flowercrowngods]

for prompt tag!

28. i'm just getting comfy (would love if this was established relationship/domestic fluff.. perhaps one of them is sick in this... idk)

but also take your time 🫡🫂

in which steve is sick but that won't stop soft boys hours

When Eddie hears the sound of fuzzy sock-clad feet dragging over the hardwood floor, accompanied by a sniffle or two, he drops the book he's reading onto his chest, exasperated by his restless boyfriend who refuses to stay in bed after Eddie tucked him in — again! Ready to give him A Look and tell him to get back to bed, because whatever it is he needs, Eddie can and will get it for him, Just go back to bed, Stevie. 

But whatever words were on the tip of his tongue even just a second ago have disappeared at seeing Steve – the same way that they always used to when they've only been dating for a few months. Instead of giving him anything remotely like A Look, Eddie grins, and instead of exasperated, all he feels is immeasurably fond. Endeared. Fucking enamoured. 

Because Steve, in all his pale, sniffly-nosed glory, is standing in the doorway to the living room, blinking against the sunlight streaming in through the windows, painting everything golden and bringing colour back to him, too. But it's not the way the light catches on his skin that makes Eddie fall in love all over again in what Robin would describe the most pathetic way possible, no. 

The thing that makes Eddie want to propose on the spot, in sickness and in health, is the fact that Steve is wearing Eddie's woollen hat. The one Joyce knitted for him with thick, soft, dark brown wool a few Christmases ago, with two distinctive bat ears sticking up.

God, where did Steve even unbury that? 

And what business does he have looking so absolutely fucking adorable wearing it?  His glasses are askew, the hair sticking out from beneath the hat is tousled and greasy, and the bags under his eyes are stark against his sickly pale skin that makes his nose shine red. 

Eddie is about to die with how much he loves him. It’s like a scream lodged in his throat that he cannot let out, an urge that grows evermore to let the whole world know, to not rest until the last person knew about his endless, endless, endless love for this angel of a man. 

In sickness and in health. It is there, residing in the back of his head, and he almost says it out loud — but Stevie would kill him if Eddie proposed to him because of a stupid woollen hat with bat ears (Sorry, Robbie). 

“Baby,” he breathes instead, miraculously keeping a hold of his heart in this wave of affection that overcame him so suddenly. “You good? Everything okay?” 

“Mhmm,” Steve hums, though it’s more of a growl with how rough his voice is. He wipes at his face, almost nudging his glasses off his nose, and Eddie can’t keep in the chuckle that bubbles out of him. 

He’s about to get up off the couch and wrap the angel with bat ears in his arms, just because he can, but then Steve is already approaching him, the blanket thrown around his shoulders dragging on the floor just as much as his feet. There is something so young about Steve when he’s sick, something so vulnerable and raw that makes Eddie want to latch onto him and never let go. Protect him from the evil germs and the headaches they bring. It’s dumb. Stupid, really. 

Eddie doesn’t even try to fight it as he sits up and holds out his arms for Steve to fall into. He brushes kiss after kiss to his overheated skin as Steve cuddles into him, burying his face in Eddie’s neck and his hands underneath his shirt. 

They hum in unison, finding a sound for serenity.

“That’s my hat,” Eddie says after a while, breathing in his sick angel and feeling him melt in his arms. 

“Our hat,” Steve mumbles into his skin.��"My turn to be Batman."

Eddie laughs, wrapping his arms tighter around him, giving in to the urge to hold, the urge to never let go. “You’re ridiculous, d’you know that?” 

“I did know that,” Steve says, and he somehow manages so sound proud of that. 

“Good, just making sure,” Eddie remarks, hiding his own grin in Steve’s cheek, nosing along his temple and the edge of the hat. After a moment of silence that they spend just holding onto each other, he murmurs, “You need anything?”

Steve shakes his head, winding his arms tighter around Eddie’s shoulders and leans into him; it takes him a moment to catch up with Steve, but eventually he lets himself fall backwards so they’re lying flat on the couch. 

“What are you doing, hm?” he asks, reaching for the blanket that has pooled around Steve’s legs and pulls it up again, wrapping it around his shoulders properly again. 

“I’m just getting comfy,” Steve rumbles, slowly and sluggishly wiggling and twisting on top of him until he stills with a satisfied hum that sounds a lot like a smile. 

“Good?” 

Another hum, affirmative this time, as Steve buries his cold fingers underneath Eddie’s body. “You’re warm.” 

“And you have a fever.” 

“Hmm. Still.” 

It makes him grin again, makes him want to burst and scream and cry and laugh endlessly. 

“Ridiculous,” he says again, no louder than a whisper, and Steve turns his head to press a kiss to the centre of Eddie’s chest. It’s as much of a No, you as Eddie’s going to get, and he cherishes it with everything he has. 

“I like that,” Steve says, half asleep by the sound of it.

Eddie reaches for Steve's glasses and places them on the coffee table, and tucks the hat back over his ears. When no elaboration follows, asks, “You like what, angel?” 

“That. Your voice. Feels nice.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhmm.”

“Want me to read to you? I think you might like this book, actually.” 

Another hum, another kiss — to his heart this time. “I like everything about you.”

“That’s what I wanna hear,” Eddie laughs, reaching for the battered copy of Momo that’s been one of his favourites since Wayne brought it home on a rainy night in ’85 and Eddie stayed up all night devouring it. 

“At the edge of the city,” he starts reading the blurb, to give Steve an idea what this is about and let him decide if he wants to listen in or just feel the rumbling of Eddie’s voice in his chest, “in the ruins of an old amphitheatre, there lives a little homeless girl called Momo. Momo has a special talent which she uses to help all her friends who come to visit her. Then one day the sinister men in grey arrive and silently take over the city. Only Momo has the power to resist them, and with the help of Professor Hora and his strange tortoise, Cassiopeia, she travels beyond the boundaries of time to uncover their dark secrets.”

Steve doesn’t react, but Eddie can feel that he’s not quite asleep yet, so he opens the book and starts reading from the beginning that he almost knows by heart. Somewhere on page seven, Steve takes to playing with Eddie’s hair, carding slow fingers through the strands in the gentlest way that is almost enough to distract him. Switching the book from one hand to another as his arms get heavy from the position he’s holding the book, he always has one hand drawing idle patterns underneath the blanket, between Steve’s shoulder blades. 

It’s a slow afternoon as the sun sets on them, painting them in golden hues of orange and rose. Once he’s sure Steve is asleep and the living room too dark to keep reading, Eddie puts down the book and sneaks his arms under the blanket, wrapping them loosely around Steve’s shoulders to follow him into dreamland.  

hope this lives up to what you had in mind! 🫶

[gemini-sensei]

🍎 anon here:3 i’ve been thinking of this for a bit, i imagine it’s where robby’s in cobra kai but also it could have bully hawk who’s in miyagi do instead

sweet and innocent larusso!reader who’s tired of all the fighting and just wants everyone to get along like they did before. she hatches the plan to throw a party, inviting both cobra kai (except kyler ofc he’s gross) and miyagi do to come over and talk it out. she’s so naive, bringing out board games and snacks, thinking it will help connect people but ofc she’s wrong. hawk is the first to come over, always having a crush on reader and thinking this would be a great opportunity to hang out. then miguel who doesn’t really wanna be around hawk but will deal with it for reader. tory is next and starts to cause a scene with hawk and miguel. tory doesn’t like reader, has reader even done anything wrong though? course not, all she’s ever done is be her sweet self to tory and tory hates it, the perky bubbly little larusso beign hated simple because of her surname. the only reason tory came was for free booze and the chance to beat the snot out of someone. once robby arrives all hell breaks loose, kicks and punches and soon there’s a hole in the wall. reader pleads with them to stop, explaining the reason for them all being there and looks at them with pouty lips and teary eyes. they all sit on the large couch huffing and puffing.

cut to them all taking their anger out on poor little readers fat wet cunt and pretty drooly mouth 😽

As soon as they see her pout, they're all thinking the same thing: she's too cute and innocent for her own good.

But then she starts rambling about why she brought them all here and how they should all be friends instead of fighting each other. She addresses a few things, like Miguel and Hawk's dislike of each other because of Hawk's bullying that he brought over from Cobra Kai and how Miguel and Robby should get along because they have more in common than they think. It doesn't defuse the situation at all. Especially when she brings up how she wants to be Tory's friend because they haven't really gotten to know each other all that well and she'd love to do just that.

Hawk is the one to get things started because he's had a crush on her for so long. He probably says something a little mean about how her little dreams are gonna be nothing more than that because none of them are gonna be able to get along. Then he says, "kick these lovers outta here and you and I can definitely get to know each other a lot better."

She's a little confused by that until he kisses her in front of the rest of them, showing them he wants her and that they can't have her. Tory gets a little too upset about that for supposedly not liking Reader LaRusso at all. She walks up behind Reader and circles are arms around her thick figure to grope her fat tits. Reader let's out a startled moan into Hawk's mouth, but she isn't all that opposed to the attention.

Miguel and Robby watch as Tory and Hawk kind of fight for where they get to grab and pull Reader toward them, arms crossed over their chests as they sit on opposite sides of the couch. They're getting uncomfortably hard while too angry to look at each other, but then Reader's top and bra comes off thanks to some sort of collaborative effort made between Tory and Hawk.

As things get a little more intense, Reader shyly suggests they go to her bedroom and they pull her away. Tory leads the way with a tight grip on Reader's wrist while Hawk makes a point to Robby and Miguel: "You two coming or are you two just gonna stew there while I fuck that sweet little smile off Reader's face?"

Miguel and Robby look at each other and that anger isn't gone, but damn do they don't care about one another while they think about that. They do push each other out of the way to get to Reader's bedroom.

Cut to them all on her bed, Hawk balls deep in her once-virgin pussy as she's sat on her knees. He's behind her while she's leans against Tory, who's sucking on her fat tits and marking them up. Miguel's to the side taking Reader's mouth while Robby is playing with Tory's pussy.

One of Tory's hands wanders down to Reader's pussy and starts rubbing hard circles on her clit, smirking at her as she whines and shakes. From behind her, Hawk is pounding her tight, fat cunt by pulling her back into his thrusts. His fingers dig into her fat waist, surely to bruise her tender skin.

"Is this what you wanted?" Tory asks condescendingly. She continues to "bully" Reader's clit while her other hand is squeezing her tit hard. "For all of us to get along, right?"

Robby scoffs as he kisses Tory's neck, watching Reader's body bounce which each smack of Hawk's hips into her ass. She's moaning around Miguel's cock as if to answer them but she can't pull away to say anything because his hand is on the back of her head while he fucks her throat. Between moans, she's doing her best not to gag.

Then Hawk starts muttering about how "this pussy is mine. Mine, mine, mine," and everyone knows he's close. He gets rougher, pulling her away from the others and pulling her back against his chest. Tory fights it for a moment before sitting back and watching Hawk bust and fill the innocent LaRusso's pretty little pussy. Reader's already come twice at this point but the feeling of Hawk's dick throbbing in her cunt sends her over the edge again and she's a shaking mess, crying out for him.

When he pulls out, some of his cum dribbles out and slides down her thighs. She's never done this before and is a little shy, trying to close her legs, but Hawk keeps her from doing so. He growls in her ear, "Don't fucking do that. I want them all to see you're mine."

Miguel shoves him. "Shut up, man. Just because you fucked her first doesn't mean shit."

Tory beckons Reader closer and she crawls forward while Hawk and Miguel bicker. Tory moves out of the way to reveal Robby's hard, throbbing, needy cock to her. "Suck him."

Reader innocently looks at her, lips swollen and droolly. "I don't know how."

"Fuck, just take him in your mouth and I'll tell you how to do the rest," Tory grunts.

So Reader bends down, still on her knees, and takes Robby in her mouth. She braces her hands on his thighs as he sits back watching her. She's totally unaware her messy fat cunt is on display for the other two behind her and Miguel takes the opportunity to finally get off, having been so rudely interrupted before when Hawk pulled her off of him.

She moans around Robbys tip as Miguel starts fucking her, giving her no tike to adjust to his girth. Tory is talking to her the while time, directing her on how to suck dick and do it right. She's following the orders as closely as possibly, making Robby roll his eyes back. Tory isn't satisfied though and puts a hand on the back of Reader's head, pushing her head down until she's gagging. Spit and drool sputter out of her mouth as she fights to pull her head up, Tory eventually letting her and she coughs, still getting jostled by Miguel behind her.

"Hurry up," Tory commands and Reader's pussy clenched as she slowly learns she likes getting bossed around by the blonde.

So, Reader takes Robby again and sucks him off. It's sloppy and inexperienced, but oh so amazing. Behind her, it doesn't take long for Miguel to come and give her a second filling. Robby fills her mouth and Tory tells her to be a "good girl and swallow", so she does.

Then Tory is telling the guys to get off the bed so she can flip Reader onto her side, slot herself between her legs, and make an even bigger mess out of her overfill, leaky pussy. She scissors Reader with one of her fat thighs held against her chest, leg thrown over her shoulder. Reader is tired and overestimated, being driven up that cliff once again as Tory rolls her hips into Reader's and makes sure their clits constantly meet.

Over her, on wither side of her, Robby, Miguel and Hawk fist their cocks as they watch her body jiggle and bounce. She holds onto the bedsheets tightly and tries to move with Tory's hips, but she doesn't know what she's doing. Then she's shaking and coming again and Miguel us shooting his cum all over her face. Once Tory comes, she pushes Reader onto her back and watched Hawk and Miguel come all over her body. Reader lays limply as she gets coated in all their cum, legs shaking and tired from the whole experience.

[poppy-metal]

hear me out... what if we combine some of the thoughts? stepbro! patrick who finds out that you've been posting videos of yourself online. every night going to some porn site to jerk himself out. using the videos to imagine different things to do to you until he finds an account that really scratches that itch inside of him. she looks like you. this solo pornstar he's found and he finds himself stalking each video you post. leaving a multitude of comments and feeling a rush of adrenaline when you respond to them. but then he starts to notice something - your walls look familiar. the posters you have on them, the paint color, and in fact so does what you're wearing. he realizes that the girl in the videos doesn't just look like you. she is you. immediately he's full of different thoughts and ideas. after he finally comes down from the realization (and also drains his balls to the copious amount of content he has for you) he makes a plan. 

he comes into your room one night, stifling through your stuff as you protest it. when he finds the camera hidden in your closet he turns around with that classic patrick smirk. "you planning on becoming a star?" he asks softly. you look at him confused but also concerned knowing nothing good happens when patrick gets that look. "a pornstar, i mean," he says with a grin. you can't even protest before he's shaking his head. coming closer and closer to you. "i know about your account. found it weeks ago. don't worry, i'm not gonna tell. didn't realize it was you at first but then i recognized the room. you know, that's the bad thing about not showing your pretty face. anyone could see it and fuck themselves to the videos. know i did."

he gets almost a sick satisfaction while telling you. watching the color drain out of your face. the way your breathing picks up. the look on your face as your mind can't decide if you're disgusted or turned on by his confession. he tells you that he wants to help you. so much so that he wants to star in your videos too. you'll get really popular then if your audience can watch you get your brains fucked out by some guy. he expects you to need a minute but you say yes almost immediately. your mouth dry from the anticipation and it's that night that you both film your first video. camera pointed down at you with your face barely out of camera while patrick fucks you from the back. hands gripping your hips rough enough to make bruises while he splits open your pussy and you babble out. its easy to pick out the titles when patrick runs his mouth the whole video - "mmm, yes, such a fucking slut wanna show the whole world how you take your stepbrothers cock? can't even keep it a secret." 

it only takes a month of uploading videos together for a company to reach out with an offer to provide better cameras and a paycheck. 

-☕

despite what you post youre a good girl, really. you were kind and sweet and got good grades all throughout school. you tried to make nice with your stepbrother even though he got under your skin all the fucking time, like that time he threw a party when your parents were out but wouldn't let you dance with robby dickenson. like, what the fuck? "he just wants you to suck his cock because his girlfriend wont".

"maybe im fine with that."

"im not."

and that was that. he always got his way. thats when it started, you're pretty sure. a sorta fuck you to patrick, and also a way to rebel in a way. your first video had been you deepthroating a didldo you'd bought. you didnt know what it would become, just that you loved every second of it. the camera filming you, the lewd act of filling your mouth for a bunch of people to fuck themselbes too. it felt wanton and dirty. it was empowering.

so your fear of patrick finding out wasn't that he'd found out, per say. you were more afraid of him taking this from you. you weren't shocked by his admission, but you were by how much it turned you on. you'd sunken alot further into the pits of depravity than you'd thought. good girls didnt fuck their stepbrothers. good girls didnt get dry in the mouth at the sight of his thick cock bobbing free. good girls didnt pull up their shirts because he'd asked them to, straddling your chest with the camera angled at your chest. "pull your tits out, show big brother those hot little nipples."

and you do, you show him, you show everyone who will be watching and you do it eagerly. you should snap at him not to call himself your big brother, but in reality the acknowledgement of what he was, of how bad you were being just made you all the more wet.

"you're not a good girl at all, are you," he asks, zooming in on the peaks of your nipples. reaches down to roughly palm one of the bouncy little tits in his hand. "always so tight lipped and quiet. you know my friend, art? he just thinks you're shy. wonder what he'd think if he knew you were shoving things up your pussy for old pervs onine to rub off to."

hes one of those pervs. but you dont say that. instead you push your chest out, bite your lip and look up at him with wide pleading eyes."no im good, big brother, i promise."

he spits out a quiet fuck under his breath. you cant stop eyeing the thick length of him between his thighs, dripping and hard and you want your mouth around him you dont care how wrong it is, you want him filling your throat and yanking your hair and calling you all sorts of names.

he makes you prove it. the camera doesnt spend long at all in his hand, eventually tossed shakily on your bed and you have to reach for it yourself, pull it close to your face as you're oushed and pulled and groped like a ragdoll, on your stomach as patrick palms at your ass.

"wanted to fuck you for so long."

"then do it."

there's alot of talk in the comments of the video when its posted, talk about the stepsibling talk being a nice little touch, some want to know if the man has an account of his own, videos of himself. they like the way he fucks you. hard and demeaning, slapping his hips off your ass with the force of his pounding cock in your cunt. they like the way he talks to you, "tight little fucking cunt,gonna fill it everyday. when i come home sweaty from practice you're gonna be a good little sister and spread your legs for me, let me at that pussy. gonna sneak in here every night, fuck you full of cum even if you're sleeping."

instant hit.

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

If Steve behaves during workouts over the next few days, he can’t be blamed. He’s trying to prove to his coaches and the team’s medical staff that he’s not rushing a return to the ice, but that he’s ready to lace up and get back out there. He bargains his way out of the full plastic face protection mask, opting for a full cage instead. By Sunday, he’s participating in the last full team practice before they pack up to leave Chicago, keeping up with his teammates despite how much he felt he’d been struggling just days earlier.

“You holding up?” Max asks, loudly, as he skates past where a few of the team doctors are sitting, observing and chatting.

“I’m fine,” He answers, and takes a shot, scoring past their goalie who had belly-flopped in the opposite direction of the puck. 

A few of his teammates ‘whoop’, while the goalie slams his stick against the ice, shoving a glove off his hand to flip Steve off, before getting back to work. 

Steve just snorts and skates back toward Max, holding his arms out. “Would you like to do a formal exam? I promise I’m good. I feel good.” He swears, winking at the redhead, scrunching up the side of his face still recovering, immediately wincing. She rolls her eyes and he laughs softly at himself. “Okay, that didn’t feel good, but that’s just because I’m dumb.”

“Not dumb!” She chastises, pointing at him, and the look on her face tells him he’s about to get a scheduled lecture from the entire Party about how he talks about himself again, so he opts to skate away instead, avoiding digging a hole for himself he can’t get out of.

It’s suspiciously quiet and seemingly empty at the apartment that afternoon until Steve ultimately finds Robin lying across his bed. His clothes are scattered everywhere around her. She shoots him a sheepish smile when he drops his bag beside her and raises an eyebrow.

“I was hoping to figure out a few outfits for you to take and look hot for your date with Eddie, but then I realized I have no idea how to dress you to impress a man.” She says, flopping back into the pillows.

Steve snorts and rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that was supposed to be an insult, but, ya know…” He trails off and laughs as Robin tosses a pillow in his direction.

“You know what I mean!”

“I do,” Steve laughs, catching the pillow and sitting beside Robin, picking at the seam of the pillowcase. “If it’s any consolation, I also have no idea how to dress me to impress guys. But I also don’t think impressing Eddie is going to have anything to do with what I wear. At least I hope it won’t.”

Robin makes a gagging noise, but it’s around a little smile, and Steve rolls his eyes before laying beside her, shoving a few tops out of his way. She waits until he’s not looking at her to speak again, both of them looking at the ceiling over his bed. “I just really want this to work for you. You deserve to be happy.” 

“I am happy, Robbie. I promise.” Steve’s softer, and for the first time in a long time, he thinks he honestly means it. Robin turns her head to look at him for a second before she wiggles closer to him and rests her head against his shoulder.

“You’re going to have to actually ask him out on a date, though, you know.” She says after a few beats, which makes him laugh.

“Not if he beats me to it,” He teases, pressing a little kiss to Robin’s temple. “But yeah, I know. I think I’m getting there.”

They lay like that for a few more minutes before Robin eventually shoves herself away from him, demanding he shower before they cuddle anymore. When Steve reenters his bedroom after a hot shower, he finds Robin has paired several tops to pants and folded them together, giving him options for outfits.

“I am humanly capable of dressing myself. I’ve been doing it for nearly 30 years now, you know.” He teases, and she rolls her eyes as he towel dries his hair. He drops the towel into his hamper and tips his head, makes an impressed face. “I wouldn’t have thought to put those pants with that top though, and I think it might just work.” He adds, lifting one of the pairings Robin has come up with and setting it into his travel bag. Robin grins and holds a finger up for him to wait, dashes out of the room, and returns a few moments later with a gray cardigan. “One step too far.” He teases, taking it from her hands and eyeing it skeptically.

“Just trust me on this? You look cuddly when you’re cozy.” She insists, so he sighs and packs it away despite his reservations.

Robin haphazardly throws a few pair of underwear, three tops and a single pair of jeans into a backpack and declares she’s ready to make the trip. 

It’s an early call at the airport on Monday, and Steve’s mostly still asleep as Robin slips into the window seat, pulling him along with her. He uses her shoulder, in combination with a neck pillow, as a headrest to sleep the flight away and he wakes up to his ears popping on the dissent, feeling a little more rested.

The players travel from the airport to check in at the hotel, then a few make their way to do tourist-y things around the city. Steve and Robin tag along, but end up breaking off from the group a few bars in along Broadway. They settle themselves into a corner and share a fishbowl sized concoction, and Steve texts Eddie to let him know they’ve arrived safe and sound and have already hit the town.

Eddie responds to the photo of Steve and Robin sipping from straws in the same bowl with a selfie Gareth took. Eddie’s in the background, using what looks to Steve like an oversized inhaler. He’s up in an instant, making his way around the woman performing on the small stage and outside onto the street where it’s not as noisy so he can call Eddie.

“That was fast,” Eddie teases, and he sounds fine, which confuses Steve further.

“Are you okay? What’s with the inhaler?” He asks, and Eddie’s quiet for a beat.

“Oh, no, Stevie, that’s not a… it’s a nebulizer. I was laying down vocal tracks earlier and it helps keep me from losing my voice.” He explains, then quickly follows up. “Oh my god, did you call because you were worried? That’s so… god, you’re adorable, you know that?”

Steve feels himself blush, and is grateful that they’re on a voice call and not a FaceTime, because Eddie would only tease him more if he could see the shade of red he’s sure his face is. “Shut up, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You’re so fucking sweet, Stevie.” Eddie’s voice is like butter, his charm on maximum, and Steve bites at his lip as he listens. “How long are you in town after the game?”

“Back to Chicago on Thursday for two days, then we hit a road stretch for most of next week.” Steve answers, and Eddie hums. “What’s that for?” Steve asks, genuinely curious.

“Means I’m trying to figure out if I want to hit the road, or wait until you’re back in Chicago for more than two days to make the next trip to see you.” 

Steve takes a deep breath at that, smiles, and lets out a huff of air that sounds like a light laugh. “I’m going to go back into the bar and finish this fishbowl, then we’re going back to the hotel to swim and sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, after the game, okay?”

“I thought you didn’t drink before games?” Eddie asks, and Steve tries not to melt at the details the other remembers.

“I’m not taking the ice tomorrow, and I… usually just have a cut-off time. When we first met, I was worried I would say something stupid if I started drinking and end up scaring you off.” It’s more honest than he intends to be, more information than he means to share, but he doesn’t regret telling Eddie, and he isn’t embarrassed.

“I think we both know it takes more than that to scare me off, sweetheart.”

Steve’s pretty sure he stops breathing at the term of endearment and he can’t tell if Eddie is freaking out or proud of himself, because he doesn’t say anything for a moment before he gives a quick goodbye and hangs up, leaving Steve standing on Broadway, looking up at the “Tootsies Orchid Lounge” sign, trying to keep himself from spiraling.

Some time must pass, then, before Robin comes out to check on him, gently lays a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Dude, you okay?”

“He, uh. He called me sweetheart.” 

“Good grief,” Robin mumbles, resting her head on Steve’s shoulder. “I thought he broke up with you or something.”

“Kinda hard to break up with someone you aren’t dating, Robbie.” Steve shakes his head in an effort to pull himself together.

“Whatever you say,” she tugs his arm, then, leading him back into the bar where they finish their drink and head back to the hotel. 

~~~

Open mouth, insert foot. The Eddie Special. The one thing becoming a constant during his conversations with Steve.

“What did you call him?” Jeff asks around a smile after Eddie hangs up the phone, grabs the nearest throw pillow, and shoves his face into it.

“I’m pretty sure he said sweetheart.” Gareth provides in the least helpful moment he’s ever been to Eddie, confirming he had, indeed, used a fucking pet name while speaking with Steve.

“How did he take that?” Jeff is softer, no longer following the initial taunting route he seemed to be heading down, likely sensing Eddie’s unraveling.

“I don’t know, I think I blacked out.” He speaks into the pillow, muffled, before he drops it into his lap and stares blankly at the wall.

“Well, me and Jeff’ll be there tomorrow. We can try to prevent any catastrophes within our capabilities?” Gareth smacks Jeff’s leg, who nods in agreement, and Eddie sighs and throws himself back into the studio sofa.

The next day, they get to Bridgestone Arena early enough to grab snacks and not run into too many people who recognize them before filling into their suite. Eddie settles into his seat, comfortable with the temperature now that he knows how to dress for a game. 

The teams eventually make their way to the ice, and Eddie zeroes in on Steve until he skates into the Blackhawk’s box after the anthem.

This time around, Eddie manages to follow a good deal of what’s happening. He’s learned a lot about the game since his first attendance, and he finds it easier to track the puck now than it had seemed previously. He watches as the Preds make an early goal, how the Blackhawks are quick to respond by securing their own point. Watches as a play goes sideways, and a Blackhawk player ends up flipping over another player, then lays on the ice in just the right position to know something is wrong, that he’s hurt.

Play doesn’t stop for long, and when things pick back up, Steve takes the ice. Eddie snaps his fingers between Jeff and Gareth once before he’s on his feet, cheering. The boys join him, and soon, most of the Arena is giving Steve a standing ovation. Steve, though, is facing the direction of Eddie’s suite and gives a little salute before dropping into position, ready for the puck to hit the ice. 

~~~

When the backup forward goes down, Steve springs to his feet from inside the visitors box. An attempt at goal had drawn everyone near the Blackhawk’s net. A Predator had dove for the puck, and things went south fast. Watching from the sidelines was like watching in slow motion, as the med staff checked in on everyone involved and eventually carted the forward off the ice to be evaluated.

Behind him, the coaches evaluate their options as Steve checks his laces and lifts his helmet before tapping the coach's arm.

“I got this,” he promises, settling the helmet over his head and securing the cage over his face. With just a moment of hesitation, the coaches agree and Steve skates to center ice.

He bends down, waiting for the Predator’s forward to join him in their wait for the ref with the puck, but cheers erupt from one end of the arena and slowly, the noise wraps around the room. 

Steve straightens to look around, taking in who exactly was cheering. Fans in both Blackhawks gear and Predators are standing together, cheering and clapping. He glances around, confused before he notices a few of the players on both sides of the ice are also clapping toward him. That’s when it clicks, that all the noise is for him. 

He turns to where the cheering originated, zeroes in on the curly hair over a jersey with his number on the sleeves and he can’t help but grin. Steve gives a little gesture in Eddie’s direction, before skating back to the center ice with the Predator’s forward.

“Welcome back, Harrington.” The other forward says, just as the ref drops the puck and the game picked back up.

~~~

The Blackhawks don’t win the game, but it feels like the cement is drying around the memory in his mind as he showers after the game. He’d played well, even scored a goal, but the Predators manage to get a buzzer-beater in at the last minute after tying things up near the end of the third. But the cheering when he stepped back out onto the ice was an experience he’d never forget.

Eddie texts Steve the address to a brewery in East Nashville, and that’s where he and Robin head as everyone else makes their way into the city. 

Upon arrival, Robin b-lines across the parking lot for the door, but Steve spots a thin trail of smoke that catches his attention. He follows it, smiles when it turns out to be exactly who he expected. Eddie’s propped up against the side of the building, foot resting flat as his back against the wall behind him, smoking a cigarette.

“Kinda figured I’d find you at the end of the smoke trail.” Steve teased softly, catching Eddie’s attention. 

“Looks like I’ve been caught, then,” Eddie laughs, and takes a long, final drag from the cigarette before putting it out into the ash urn. He blows the smoke away from Steve, and keeps a smile on his face. “Wanna grab a drink? I had the guys order appetizers, but we can get real food, too, if you want?”

“I actually….” Steve hesitates, and Eddie raises his eyebrows. Steve considers dropping it, just agreeing to go inside and eat and have a good time with everyone. But then Eddie’s face softens into a little smile and Steve’s chest warms. “Fuck it. Do you want to grab dinner tomorrow? Just the two of us?”

Eddie visibly blue screens. There’s no emotion on his face as he watches Steve before him for a moment, then breaks out into a grin. “You asking me on a date, Harrington?”

“I am.” Steve nods, grins back at Eddie, watches as he twists a curl around his finger and pulls it in front of his face, twisting his body so his arm is propped against the wall, facing Steve head on.

“I think I would like that, yeah.” Eddie agrees. Steve smiles, feels like something has lifted between the two of them, and holds his hand out. Eddie tangles their fingers together and lets Steve pull him into the brewery.

Robin seems suspicious as they enter, but drops her interest as they sit at the end of the table across from one another, sipping on beers and munching on nachos and mozzarella sticks, chatting about the game and the new music the band is recording. 

And if Steve manages to keep his composure when Eddie hooks an ankle around his own under the table, it’s because he’s an adult and not a high schooler tripping over his own feet to impress the guy across from him, and totally not because he knows the entire rest of the table would have a field day if he got flustered by the littlest touch.

[auras-moonstone]

hello there could i request jack x actress!reader where they’re co-stars on a show or film and they obviously have feelings for each other but it’s like “everyone knows about it BUT them” kinda thing lmao they act like a couple but neither of them has brought the subject up

let’s just say they were nominated for an oscar and at the vanity fair after party jack’s talking to a girl when he sees the reader talking dancing a little too close to an actor (who’s literally just a friend) and he just goes up to them like “hey can i steal you for a second? great thanks lets go” and just drags her to a more private part (maybe a romantic balcony?) and he’s like “wtf was that???” and she’s like “well i can ask u the same mr.” and it’s just angry love confession and they kiss (no smut pls!!) please and thank you so much 😁

angry confessions are the best😫 hope you enjoy it! 🫶🏻

you belong with me — jack champion

word count: 1,729

pairing: jack champion x fem!reader

summary: y/n and jack belong together and, while everyone knows it, they acknowledged it. though, at the vanity fair party, the very awaited thing happens.

EVERYONE JUST KNEW Y/N AND JACK BELONGED TOGETHER. And every person who knew them agreed in something—it was very frustrating to see them act like a couple and completely deny there was something going on between them.

The cast of Avatar watched their bond born and blossom. It had been two years since they finished filming that movie, and the cast thought that, by now, they had already admitted their feelings, as they continued to work together after Avatar. And, by the way they were acting around each other throughout the Oscar ceremony, they were sure they were finally a couple.

“Holy shit, Jack, Andrew Garfield is two tables away from us” she said excitedly. “Oh god, is that Margot Robbie? Jack please pinch me I think I just saw Robert Pattinson, also known as the love of my life”.

“I’m not going to pinch you, and your fan girl side is absolutely adorable” Jack said, leaving a kiss on her nose. Y/N laughed and hid her heated cheeks on Jack’s neck.

“I’m so happy for you two!” Zoe told them. The whole table was looking at them as if they were the most adorable creatures in the world.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked confused.

“It was very obvious, you two had always acted like a couple around set. We all knew you would eventually get together” Sam said.

“Oh! No, we are not together. We’re just friends. And we do not act like a couple” Y/N said. The whole table let out a groan.

“I can’t with these two anymore” Stephen sighed.

Jack and Y/N exchanged glances, but said nothing, letting the ceremony continue.

AT THE END OF THE CEREMONY, THEY ENDED UP GOING TO THE VANITY FAIR PARTY. How could they not? Especially after Avatar won an Oscar. They had to celebrate. And above all, Y/N and Jack wanted to get Zoe’s words out of their minds.

“Y/N?” a voice that sounded familiar asked. The girl turned her head around to see one of her ex co-stars, Nick.

“Oh, god. Nick! Hi. It’s been so long” she said excited. He was one of the first people she worked with, and one of her first friends.

“You look amazing!” he said, looking at her emerald dress.

“Thank you, you too” Y/N smiled politely.

“Wanna dance?” Nick asked. Y/N looked around, Jack was supposed to bring some drinks, but he was nowhere to be seen. She was about to decline, when she caught his figure. Jack was talking with a very gorgeous girl, who had her hand on his bicep and was smiling at him in a flirty way.

“Actually, I’d love to” she clenched her teeth, eyes not leaving the scene as Nick led her to the dance floor.

“You okay?” Nick asked. Y/N blinked, finally looking at him. She faked a smile and nodded as they made a conversation.

Hearing Y/N’s laugh, Jack’s head turned around and closed his hand in a fist at the scene in front of him—his Y/N dancing with some boy and laughing at something he was saying. And his hand was on her waist. Her. Waist. Not caring about being polite to the nameless girl—who can’t seem to get her hand off his bicep—anymore, Jack marched towards the dance floor.

“Hey, can I steal you for a second?” Jack asked, not bothering to greet the boy dancing with Y/N. “Great thanks, let’s go” he said before Y/N could even open her mouth.

He led her to the large window at the end of the room, which led them to a beautiful antique balcony. “What the fuck was that?” Jack spat angrily once he closed the door, blocking the sound of the party. The chilly wind of the night embraced them.

Y/N looked at him in surprise, then in annoyance and crossed her arms in front of her chest “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“That… in there” his tone was hard “You were dancing with him, and giggling and flirting… what was that?”

Y/N scoffed “I could ask you the same question, mister. I mean, what was going on there between you and Mrs. Clingy?” her nose scrunched as the image of the girl touching Jack crossed her mind.

“Nothing was going on between me and-” he paused and frowned “Mrs. Clingy? What?”.

“Oh, Jack your hair looks so pretty tonight! Oh Jack, your suit is very stylish and the fabric is so soft! Can I touch it? Oh Jack, have you been going to the gym lately?” she imitated the girl’s pitched voice, while touching his arms “Holy fucking shit, the mice from Cinderella sound less annoying than her”

“That is not what she was saying at all!” Jack rolled his eyes. Lies, that kinda was how the conversation went “What about your boy, then? As if he wasn’t being all clingy, with his arms on your waist and showing you his charming smile, which in my opinion isn’t as charming as the girls on twitter say”.

The girl furrowed her eyes “The girls on-? never mind” Y/N sighed “We were literally dancing! What was he supposed to do with his hands?!” she exclaimed in a loud voice.

“Well, why were you dancing with him in the first place?” Jack asked, his tone matching hers.

Y/N moved her arms frenetically, it was something she did when she got frustrated “He’s my friend! We did a movie together a long time ago, we were catching up”

Jack let out a dry laugh “He sure as hell doesn’t want to be your friend”

“Oh, you read minds now!” she said sarcastically.

“I’m not stupid, I certainly can tell when a guy wants a girl”

“You’re totally wrong, but if he did, what is the problem?”

“There’s no problem!” he forced a laugh. “Why would there be a problem? You can flirt with whoever you want, dance with whoever you want, date whoever you want!”

“Then what is this discussion for?!” Y/N looked at him, she was basically breathing flames when she talked. “There clearly is a problem—you can flirt with girls but for some reason I can’t flirt with boys?? And you have to drag me away to cause a useless fight and can’t even tell me what’s the real reason”.

“So you were flirting!” Jack pointed an accusatory finger at her.

She let out a groan of irritation “That’s what you got from all that?! Really?! Why are you being so insufferable right now?”

“Because I fucking love you!” Jack’s statement was as loud as the beats of her heart when she took in his words. “And I can’t stand seeing you dance with him, looking so fucking angelic. It drives me nuts how he gets to hear you laugh and your sweet voice. I want you to dance with me, I want you to laugh with me, I want the hand on your waist to be mine… and you know what else I want?” he asked, his voice gradually lowered as he spoke, and now it was soft as silk. And his face was only inches away from hers. Y/N was speechless, so she just shook her head “I want to kiss you, and I want everyone to see—especially him”.

“You are so… frustrating” she sighed, now her tone was calmer “He is just my friend, I promise. And I don’t want anyone but you, Jack. Ever since I met you on set, you have been the only boy on my mind. I don’t care how charming his smile is” she said, and Jack whispered ‘not that charming’. “He is not you”.

Jack smiled at those last words. He brought his hand to the side of her face, to pull away a strand of hair that fell from her ponytail “I’m sorry for acting like a jealous boyfriend. I had no right, it just… it pissed me off as much as it scared me”.

“Scared you?” she asked confused, leaning into the softness of his palm.

“The thought of you being with someone else, and losing you before I even got to tell you how I felt… it scared me” he confessed.

Y/N basically threw herself in his arms “I love you, Jack. And I’m sorry too, I also acted like a jealous girlfriend. And if it makes you feel less guilty, I was two seconds away from leaving the place with brunette strands of hair as a trophy”

At that, Jack bursted out laughing “You remind me of that villain bunny from The secret life of pets”

“Jack!” she laughed, pushing his shoulder gently.

“You’re so cute. I love you” he smiled as he left short kisses on her cheeks.

“Just for the record, you are also the least intimidating-looking guy ever. You are literally a golden retriever”

He grimaced “I’m a cat person”

Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling from ear to ear “Just kiss me, dork”.

Jack’s hands grabbed her cheeks as she raised her head to meet his lips. Their chests tightened as they became addicted to the softness of each other’s lips and the taste of cherry that Y/N’s chapstick provided. Her fingertips lost between his long curls as his traced circles on her blushed-covered cheeks.

They cursed the oxygen as they pulled away, breathless and complete mesmerised by the other, as if there were under the influence of some kind of spell. The magic broke with the sound of an opening door, and Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes at the sight of the brunette girl.

“Jack! I have been looking for you” her high pitch tone made Y/N’s jaw clench. “Oh, sorry. You don’t mind if I steal him, right?” she asked Y/N, a fake smile plastered on her face.

Y/N mimicked her smile “He’s busy right now. Come back never”

Jack tried not to laugh “Sorry, I want to be here with my girlfriend. There’s a guy on table 5 called Nick who is totally your type, though, you’ll like him”

The girl, clearly confused, turned around and left them alone. Y/N looked at Jack “Can we get out of here? I hate parties”.

“Sure, love. Movie and ice cream?” he asked, grabbing her hand and intertwining their fingers. Their hands, as always, fitted just right. Like they were made to go together, like they belonged together—just like Y/N and Jack.

Y/N smiled and kissed his knuckles “You know me so well, I love you”.

[wazzappp]

AJAJSKJDKGKHKLFSND ILL TAKE THAT LABEL WITH PRIDE ALSO OHHHHHHHH MY GOD FUCK YES!!!!

She still thinks of herself as that kid who has to mold herself into things other people want if she wants to have any friends. Now that she's grown up she knows what she wants for herself and she goes after it, but socially she just chameleons herself into whatever she thinks people will like the most. Path of least resistance and such. God fucking damnit I love that so much.

My fave Lisa headcanon is that she has ugly duckling syndrome. Like, she was a very average looking kid who maybe had acne or wore braces and happened to have the bad luck to be bullied. Then puberty hit and boom, when she enters highschool she is gorgeous. She is incredibly beautiful and deep down she still cannot believe it, but the thing is that she fits now. And fitting is a good thing, specially in hillrock heights. So she puts on a Valley Girl persona, but deep down she's still kind of ankward and insecure, and smarter than people give her credit for. Her social skills are not top notch. She doesn't have experience with boys even if she tries to act brave with Robbie.

[imfinereallyy]

Tattooed Steve, pt. 2

Part 1 here

Soooo I ended up writing more tattooed Steve. I couldn’t resist. I also realized that Eddie would be the first person to find out but like…other than Robin. But I didn’t count her because Steve and Robin are the same person honestly at this point. Anyway I hope you like it! Pt. 1 is linked above.

—-

It’s two weeks after Vecna when he gets his first one. It’s unexpected, impulsive even, but Steve needs to feel something. He has just spent the past week and half waiting for Eddie to wake up, staring at his pale form, wishing away the anxiety with every beep, beep, beep that comes from the heart monitor. Begging for this stupid, stupid man to wake up.

He isn’t really sure why he wanted Eddie to wake up. Sure the ruggrats love him, and there is the general sense of not wanting any innocent person to die on his watch, but Steve knows deep down it’s about something else. Or more like the potential of something else. He tries not to think about it too hard.

So during that first week and half of watching a comatose Eddie, Steve takes his time studying the man. Learning every curve, and every scar. And eventually, every visible tattoo he can see. They are interesting, not all of them good, but all very Eddie. It somehow makes them better. Some of them are messed up from the bat bites (ironically the bat tattoos remain untouched), but they add to his aesthetic if Steve is being honest with himself.

When Eddie wakes up after that week and a half, groggy and confused (especially towards the fact that Harrington is practically holding vigil at his bedside), the first thing Steve says to him is “Oh thank god you’re awake.” The second is “What the hell were you thinking?” Before Eddie proceeds to pass out again.

Later, when all of the doctors and family and friends have had their time with him, the third thing Steve says to Eddie is, “Tell me about your tattoos.”

And despite the fact half of them are mangled, Steve doesn’t think he has ever seen anyone light up that bright in his life. And when Eddie starts waving his hands in excitement, Steve can’t help but think that he’s never been so close to the sun before.

So, two weeks after Vecna, Steve makes a decision. Or again, if he’s being honest, an impulse. He finds old books in the library about tattoos (which aren’t very helpful), and finds zines hidden between the pages (much more helpful) on stick and pokes.

Steve shows up with supplies from Melvad’s (for a probably very dangerous tattoo kit) at Robin’s doorstep. “Robs, I need you to give me a tattoo.” Then she proceeds to spit all of her morning tea on him.

After a lot of shouting “Did you hit your head again dingus? Oh my god did you get into another fight? Are you having a break down? SPEAK STEVE.”

And a lot of convincing, “Robin I’m fine. No I’m not having a breakdown. Robs, Robbie, Birdie, I swear nothing happen. I just want to do it.”

The end up on Robin’s bathroom floor (because of course all important things happen on the bathroom floor), with a look of deep concentration on her face. “I can’t believe you’re letting me do this, with only twenty minutes from a zine you smuggled out of Hawkins Library. I can’t believe they even have zines.”

“I don’t think they were aware of it honestly.” Steve snorts. His shirt was off, a patch hair already shaved off right where is heart is placed.

“Do you know what you want?” Robin asks, head tilted.

“No, not really. I was hoping you would help.”

Robin hums, like she’s resisting the urge to point out how impulsive he’s being. Like she knows he needs to do this. “Tell me what made you decide to want one.”

So Steve does. He tell her about waiting for Eddie to wake up. Wondering why Eddie got them. Wanting to own himself again, to actually like something new on his body. Put something there he had control of. His curiosity of if it were painful. His interest behind the stories of Eddies tattoos. How Eddie lit up so bright when asked. Wanting to feel like that. Wanting to be close to the sun again.

Robin mercifully didn’t look too deeply (or at least didn’t push on it) about the interest in Eddie himself. “Okay, I think I got it. Just…hold still.”

Twenty minutes later, after three passes with pen ink and a needle, Robin disinfects his tattoo. Before she covers up, she asks “Do you want to see it?”

Steve nods his head eagerly. The tattoo had painful, more painful than he expected, but he found it sort of grounding. Something to keep him aware of himself, almost as if he was able to grasp parts of himself he wasn’t conscious of before.

When Steve stands up to look in the mirror, there he sees off center on his chest, a wonky little sun. It was something a preschooler could have drawn, but it was one of the most beautiful things Steve had ever seen, and it was made by one of the most important people in his life.

Robin says shyly at Steve’s speechless state, “You said you wanted to be close to the sun again.”

Steve scoops Robin up in an instant, ignoring the stinging both on the outside and inside of his chest. “Thank you Birdie.” Which translates, you are the only person I ever need etched in me forever.

“Always, Stevie.” Which means, you’re never getting rid of me anyway.

They pull away with tearful smiles, and silent promises. Steve can start to feel maybe not much like his old self, but somewhere on the way to who he truly is.

Then Robin says, “Okay, me next.”

————

okay I wasn’t sure if really anyone wanted more, or if I was going to do it but I actually really enjoyed where this ended up. Also I apologize for any tense changes. I quite literally type this on my phone and say screw it, without looking it over. Let me know if you want more maybe? Send me prompts even. Thanks for reading :)

[pippin-katz]

“We knew that if Taylor and Nick didn’t feel safe, we would never have gotten that scene out of them.”

I've reread this interview a couple times, and the last sentence hit me differently. My entire chest expanded. I’ve been blabbering on and on about Taylor and Nicholas having to do intimate choreography, and it still blows me away that they did, but that comment is so sweet.

They felt safe. They felt safe with each other. They felt safe with Matthew and Robbie. They were able to perform the most beautiful and romantic sex scene I’ve ever witnessed because they felt safe.

I can't stress the use of the word "safe" enough.

It's impossible to know what they were thinking while filming, but I can imagine that they occasionally got those instinctive nerves, but they were able to keep filming because they trusted each other that much. They could think to themselves: "he's got me".

That is the sweetest, most wholesome thing ever.

Nicholas and Taylor are such close friends and care so much about each other that they're able to do this kind of scene. They know the other would never do anything to make them uncomfortable. They have to be completely vulnerable, but they're okay with that because they trust each other that much. That is such an incredible friendship, and a truly special bond.

It also occurred to me that that trust and safety they felt is probably part of why it feels as intimate as it does. The point of the scene is to show how far Alex and Henry have come in their relationship that they trust each other to do that.

Henry’s unable to “belong to someone else” except for a moment, and he has fallen so in love and trusts Alex so much to give himself to him in literally the most intimate way possible, even if it’s temporary. Alex has never done any of this before, considering he hadn’t truly considered his bisexuality before Henry, and obviously hasn’t had this kind of sex, but he feels comfortable enough with Henry to tell him that he’s nervous and trusts Henry will make sure everything goes right. I mean Henry literally says “trust me, you’re in good hands”, and Alex does.

Trust and safety is literally part of the characters' journeys in that scene. Nick and Taylor's real life trust in each other can provide a genuine base to build off of for Alex and Henry's.

God I wish they could do interviews, I want to hear them talk about it more (if they’re willing). They talked about it somewhat in the pre-conducted interviews, but not to the extent Matthew is in this. Obviously they don’t have to if they’re not comfortable sharing though.

I think this makes me feel so much because I'm personally demisexual and demiromantic, so emotional bonds are very important to me, in general. It's my heart's desire to find someone to love and trust that much, platonically and/or romantically.

PS: Just to be absolutely clear, this is not about shipping Nick and Taylor!! I'm just gushing about their bond with each other! I'm not trying to imply they are romantically involved in any way!

Thanks for reading!! If you enjoyed this essay & would like to support me, you can give me a tip on my Ko-Fi! ☺️

[withahappyrefrain]

Ruin the Friendship- Bob Floyd

Warnings: Best friends to lovers trope, it’s so obvious they love each other they’re stupid, language, filth, some angst (why not?), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), Bob being pussy drunk.

Summary: The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he's learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He's determined to fix that.

Words: 4.8K

This is for @attapullman's Bob Fucks celebration!

When you've been friends with someone since preschool, you get to know them like the back of your hand. Certain quirks and sayings that no longer surprise you. 

“God, I wish that were me.”

It wasn't the first time Bob heard you say that. Usually there was a cute dog around, or a sushi boat being delivered at a restaurant when you said it. 

But saying it during an oral sex scene in a movie was new. 

It also brought up many questions. 

Questions Bob shouldn't ask, considering he's known you since preschool. Questions Bob couldn't ask right now, because he was too preoccupied looking at you. 

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, focused on the actress withering. Occasionally, they would dart to the other actor who was between the actress’ thighs. Bob noticed the increased rise and fall of your chest, how your front teeth dug into your bottom lip, how when you lean forward, the v-line cut of your shirt showed off the tops of your breasts. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the beautiful features on your face. 

All things he shouldn’t be noticing about his best friend. But then again, best friends shouldn’t be watching a French film together whose plot line focused on sexual liberation before he went off to Navy boot camp. 

Granted, you and Bob haven’t had a conventional best friend relationship in a while, if at all, considering both sets of parents claimed you two promised to marry each other at the age of four. 

Promises or not, best friends shouldn’t be one another’s first kiss. Or make out practice partners. Or each other’s New Year's kiss when y'all were single. Or spend Valentine's Day together at the local dinner. 

The line between friends and something more was blurry, saved by a comment that ensured the other to think that the feelings that had been brewing weren't reciprocated. 

“You’re a good kisser. Kelsey McCoy is going to think so too.”

“If Tommy Delaine doesn't like you, he's a dumbass.” 

“I’m sure next year you’ll have someone.”

“If I had to spend it with anyone, I want it to be with my best friend.”

“You’re an amazing friend, you know that?”

Why say that if you harbor romantic feelings? Surely, all those kisses and talk of marriage meant nothing to them. 

At least that's what the other thought. 

It's because of this blurry line that Bob doesn't bite his tongue, doesn't throw away the comment to be forgotten. Instead, he speaks up. 

“Been awhile?” 

And because it's Bob, the guy you've known your whole life, the guy you tell everything to, your response rolls off your tongue without a second thought. 

“Try never.” 

It takes Bob a moment to process your words as the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle is far too distracting. But just like processing a car accident, once it registers, your words bring his brain to a screeching halt. 

“Wait, never?” The shrug you give isn’t satisfactory. He grabs the remote to pause the movie, ignoring your cries of protest. 

“Real talk; are you saying that no one has ever gone down on you?” 

You sigh, regretting saying anything in the first place. One would think that after years of friendship, you’d know well enough that once Bob set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent until satisfied. 

You down the remnants of your beer, mentally preparing for this conversation. 

“No Robby. I've never had someone eat me out. Happy now?” Reaching for the remote was all in vain, as he just held it further away from you. 

Darn those long limbs. 

“But you've been with people…..so what did they do?” When you looked at him, there was no malice, just Bob looking genuinely baffled. His gentle blue eyes put you at ease, giving you the comfort to explain. 

“They would touch me,” you motioned to the lower half of your body, “And like finger me. Enough to get me ready, I guess.” 

Bob raised an eyebrow, “You guess?” 

College was supposed to be a time for you to explore, to figure yourself out, to interact with new people. 

And yet, when it came to the relationship aspect, everything had fizzled. You were now going into your junior year having yet to experience a meaningful romantic relationship. 

Did you just have shit luck? Or was it because your mind would wander back to a bespectacled best friend when you were in bed with someone else? 

“So instead of eating you out, which would actually be enjoyable on your end, you're telling me they just stuck their hand down there and hoped they were rubbing your clit? You didn't ever ask them to do something else?” 

Bob didn't have the pristine mouth that parents thought he possessed. You knew, and had known for a while. And yet, hearing him say the phrase your clit in his deep, slightly twangy voice felt different. 

You rubbed your thighs together. 

“Are you shaming the people I've been with or me?” 

Bob closed the difference between you and him on the couch, placing a hand on your bare knee. 

Have his hands always been so big and veiny? 

Fuck, did you have a thing for hands? 

“I'm not shaming you. I’m shaming the people you've been with because well,” he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, “Well, I enjoy giving….I like doing it. So I guess I'm surprised other people don't?” 

His statement was shocking because everyone else you had been with viewed it as a chore, as something to use every excuse in the book to avoid doing. 

Too tired. Takes too long. Wet enough so what's the point? 

“You…like doing it?” 

The tops of his cheeks reddened, despite a smirk beginning to form, “Yeah. I like giving and I like making them feel good. It's also a confidence booster, being able to make someone fall apart with your mouth.” 

It shouldn't come as a surprise, it was Bob after all. The same Bob who always brought an extra pencil with him to algebra, in case you forgot yours. The same Bob who shared his Dunkaroos because your mom refused to buy them. The same Bob who made his dream of serving his country finally come true after years of hard work. 

He was selfless. But this didn't feel like selflessness. Hearing him talk about giving pleasure, making someone fall apart with his mouth, was different. Even his voice when he said it was different, raspier than usual. 

“Well,” you scooted closer to the edge of the couch, trying to widen the gap so he couldn't feel how hot your body was, “I can't wait ‘til I meet someone who feels the same way.” 

“You don't have to wait.” 

The grip on your beer bottle tightened, the alcohol getting caught in your throat. There's no way he could have just said that, no way he could be implying what you're thinking. 

But when you look at Bob, he was staring back with raised eyebrows and thin lips curled into a little smirk. The same look he’s given you countless times before when he mumbles a smartass comment only your ears were privy to hear. 

You heard me. 

“What-are you…” You stared at him, mouth agape. Bob appeared unphase by it, like he had just offered something totally normal and rational. 

Perhaps it was the three beers he had downed. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline kicking in after realizing this was his last chance at making a move before he left. 

“Wouldn't that be like crossing a line?” Your head was racing, alternating between flashbacks of when you kissed Bob and imagining what it would be like to have his mouth on your body. 

“Wouldn't be much different from what we’ve already done.” 

All the air was sucked out of the room by his comment. Because of course he wasn't doing this because he wanted to, because he wanted you. This would be meaningless, just like everything else. If you went through with this, you’d wake up the next day to Bob leaving with nothing changed, still in this seemingly endless limbo. 

Long, nimble fingers hooked themselves under your chin, gently forcing you to look up. 

The look he gave you was unfamiliar. His eyes remained focused on your face, though it seemed like they were searching. 

For what, you couldn't tell. 

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Do you want it to be different?” 

What good was telling him if he didn’t feel the same way, thus ruining a great friendship?

“Do you want it to be different Robby?” You countered back. 

He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, “I asked you first.”

He thought he had the upper hand. But you were like a lightning bug, faster.  

“I asked you second, Robby.”

Like a rubber band, the tension snapped as Bob was unable to hold back a snort of laughter. The tension left your shoulders, the sight of him laughing familiar and safe. 

“I’m going to really miss your resounding maturity,” Bob deadpanned after gaining the ability to compose himself, though a sweet crooked smile remained. 

It was now your turn to roll your eyes, though it didn’t stop the smile currently forming on your face. Seeing this side of Bob was always fun; most folks thought he was quiet and meek. The truth was that he liked to observe and didn’t find value in speaking when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t hold back with you, didn’t feel the need to sit and observe. He truly conversed with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel special. 

He was never that way with the other girls he dated. 

“You love me,” you teased back. It was a comment you've said countless times, always with that sweet, albeit mischievous smile that made Bob's heart flutter. 

But this time instead of shaking his head or rolling his eyes, he leaned forward until your foreheads were touching. 

Seeing him up close took your breath away. You could see how his roots were beginning to darken, the blonde fading as he got older. The little scar on his chin from a BB Gun incident when he was ten. Eyes bluer than the ocean. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl, something you'd greatly miss when he'd get the military mandated buzz cut. 

“Yeah, I do.” There was no teasing in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Instead of playfully shaking your shoulder, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers cupping your warm skin. He was moving quickly, making you unable to truly process what he had just said. 

Despite it being new territory, he was handling it beautifully. You, on the other hand, were torn between wondering if your increased heart beat was medically concerning and how large Bob’s hands were. 

“You gotta….if you want to stop, tell me,” His breathing had increased, like it did when he had finished his part in the marching band. But this wasn’t marching band practice and y’all weren’t on the high school field. You were in your parents’ basement, with Bob’s lips quickly closing the gap between yours and his. 

It wasn’t your first time kissing Bob, but it might as well have been. Years of experience had given him more confidence. He knew where to put his hands now, one still on your neck to guide you, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hip. He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across your bottom lip, successfully driving you wild. 

When the rounded tip of his nose brushed against yours, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Bob didn’t mind, using the chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. Your body leaned towards him, hands gripping the soft fabric of his old Warped Tour T-shirt. 

“I thought you,” your words were slurred, a weak moan interrupting your speech due to his lips moving down to your neck, “Thought you were gonna eat me out.” 

Bob’s moan vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled to your breasts, gripping them through your T-shirt. It wasn't a hard squeeze, which is what you were used to. 

It was pleasurable. Bob was pleasurable. 

“Did none of the guys you were with do foreplay?” He asked, his hands continuing their ministrations. 

“I-fuck- yes they did, it just never took this long,” you grunted against his lips. 

“God, you have terrible taste in men.”

You wanted to let Bob know that he was now included in that group. But then his fingers hooked themselves around the band of your shorts, pulling them down. Had you known what tonight would entail, you would have opted for underwear that wasn't so worn. The long hairs on his arms tickled your sensitive skin as he moved to kneel on the floor, the cool basement air making you realize just how wet you were. 

How could he do that so quickly? 

He pinned your hips against the soft couch cushions. With anyone else, you would complain with how hard he was gripping your soft skin. But with Bob, you’d love it. It meant hand-shaped bruises that would stay after he left, reminding you of tonight. 

When his sharp nose nudged your clothed slit, a loud gasp erupted from your mouth. 

Thank god your parents were on vacation. 

His tongue was so wide as it stroked the quickly dampening fabric. How was he able to find your clit so quickly? Most struggled to find it even after your panties had been taken off. 

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing your strained whimpers. You were practically squirming, hips erratically jerking with every touch. 

“Wha-why did you stop?” You whined, looking down to find him staring up to you. 

“Are you-I just need to know, do you still want this?” God, he was so fucking considerate. In any other moment, you’d find it endearingly sweet. 

But if his tongue felt that good against your covered cunt, you were dying to feel it without the barrier. 

“Robby, I swear to god, if you don’t eat me out, I’m going upstairs and using my vibrator,” Your voice was strained, your knuckles turning white from gripping the couch cushions.  

He laughed.  Bob knew you were bluffing. He had just gotten started and you were already so wet. 

Slowly, he took his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table behind him, making a show of it. 

“Won’t need those. I’m nearsighted after all.”

“You little-” The insult remained unsaid, as Bob pushed your underwear to the side, his mouth instantly latching onto your swollen clit. 

His mouth was warm. The pressure wasn’t too much, just enough to make you wither in pleasure. It felt so good, so fucking good. When Bob looked up, he found your mouth open, despite no sounds coming out. 

Good. 

You deserved to know what it was like, to have someone care about your pleasure, to focus solely on making you feel incredible. 

God, he could feel his cock throbbed. You looked so pretty with your eyes glazed over, mouth agape as you watched him, completely enthralled. 

And he had just gotten started. 

He wanted to do more than make you come, he wanted to blow your mind. Call it selfish, but Bob wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He had always held back his tongue when it came to the people you dated, knowing sooner or later you'd realized they weren't worth your time. 

But now he had his chance and Bob sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip away. 

The loud sound of fabric ripping broke you out of the pleasure filled haze you were in. Before you could make a sound about your now ripped underwear, your knees were pinned to your chest, giving Bob complete access to your soaked core.

“So fucking sweet,” He groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations all through your body, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” 

“Robby.” 

To say Bob dreamed of hearing you moan his name would be the understatement of the fucking century. 

Your whole body was on fire, unable to do anything else but take everything Bob was giving. 

A resounding moan fell from your lips as Bob thrusted two fingers inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the unexpected stretch. 

Was he this thick elsewhere?

You wanted to find out. Wanted to feel it inside you, in your mouth. You shamelessly wanted it all. But you couldn’t even voice that because Bob was tracing figure eights on your clit, his fingers brushing against a spot you thought Cosmo had made up. 

Fuck, he was doing a number on you. His soft hair threaded through your fingers as you gripped the strands. Your hips involuntarily jerked upwards, desperate to get as much of Bob as possible. 

You kept expecting him to stop, considering you were wet enough for him to fuck you. That's what everyone else did. 

But Bob Floyd wasn't like everyone else. Far from it. 

He was fucking delighted to hear all the cute, strained noises coming from you as he continued.  Each time you tugged on his hair, a groan would fall from his lips. It was the prettiest sound you had ever heard. 

Why did either of you wait this long? 

You tried to communicate, to let him know you were close, tugging on his hair, trying to move away from his mouth. 

But Bob was deceivingly strong, using his free hand to pin your hip back to the couch, his mouth firmly on your pussy. 

When you looked down, you were in awe of how blissed Bob looked. His eyes were closed as his mouth remained latched to your clit. The sounds of your own wetness were obscene, but barely audible over the moans Bob was letting out. 

He really did enjoy it.

“Come. Wanna taste ya,” His voice was muffled as he added a third finger inside you. 

Worried thoughts of coming on his face left your brain as pleasure coursed through your veins. Without any warning, the band that had been tightening came undone.

Bob used both hands to hold your hips firmly in place, his tongue lapping up your release. 

You don't recall coming this hard or this long before. It wasn't a small wave, it felt like the whole damn ocean was taking you under. 

His fingers continued to stretch you open, prolonging your high. The Navy was the perfect fit for him, considering he could apparently hold his breath for an impressive amount of time. 

The soft fabric of the couch cushions brushed as the back of your head, your eyes half closed. You couldn't even voice an acknowledge when Bob’s mouth and fingers withdrew from your abused cunt. 

“You're so pretty when you come,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing against yours. 

Your hands tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“M-my turn,” you whined, hips jerking up towards his. 

Bob shook his head, “Wanna be inside ya.” 

How was this the same guy who feared clowns as a kid? 

Before you could even question it, Bob had sat down on the couch, gripping your hips to help you straddle his lap. When had he taken off his jeans? How was he so quick- 

Jesus Christ, he was huge. 

“Fuck, she was right.” 

Bob looked up from where you two were about to connect, a very confused look on his face, “Excuse me?” 

“Betsey Thomas said you had a huge dick,” you confessed, wishing that you'd think before speaking for once. 

Bob’s brows knitted together in confusion, “Betsey Thomas has never seen my dick, the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Said she could tell you were packing because of the gym shorts you'd wear for PE class.” Bob signed, shaking his head as he muttered something about the required uniform. 

“I….we can unpack this later-” 

You snorted, “Why? Too busy packing here?” 

Your laughter was cut short by Bob rubbing his cock against your soaked cunt. Memories of high school escaped your brain, the only thing you could focus on now was Bob and his huge dick. 

Curious wasn't accurate. Frankly, you were desperate for him. Had been since middle school, if you were being truthful. 

“Woah, hey. Easy baby, easy,” his voice made your thighs clench, made you whine into his shoulder as you tried to line your aching hole with his cock. 

Finally, you felt him at your entrance. Slowly, he filled you up inch by inch. Every time you tried to urge him to go faster, Bob would simply shake his head before pressing a kiss against your cheek. 

“Don't want to hurt ya darlin’.” 

Darlin. You were his darlin. 

He made you feel so full, and you didn't even have it all inside of you yet. All you could do was cling to him as he whispered praises in your ears. 

Once you reached the base, it felt like you and Bob were the only ones in the world. At least, that’s what you pretended. It was better than thinking about how he would be gone for who knows how long after tonight. After boot camp was done, he would be off to train for the Navy. 

Even he didn't know when he would return home. 

It wasn't fair, finally expressing your feelings for one another just to be separated immediately after. You wanted him to stay, to go on dates with him, to visit him on the weekends when school started, just like everyone else in a long distance relationship. 

“Hey, what's wrong? Do you- we can stop if you want, it's okay.” Bob’s voice was soft, full of concern. 

His hand lifted your chin up from his shoulder, revealing your watery eyes. 

“I don't want you to go.” 

“I know,” his voice was barely a whisper, matching your volume. Long fingers gently traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize them. 

“I know it's horrible timing, but we'll figure it out, okay? I want to figure it out with you, I promise,” He peppered your face with soft kisses, earning a small smile out of you. 

“But for now, can I make ya feel good? Because I'm willing to bet no guy has made you come while fucking ya.” 

Unlike in the past, where Bob’s smartass comments earned him a shove, you pressed your lips against his. 

“I'm gonna start moving now, okay?” Even though he warned you, nothing could have prepared you for how full Bob made you when his hips thrusted upwards. 

“You're-fuck- you feel so good, oh my God.” 

Your fingers tangled into Bob’s hair, trying to commit the feeling to memory. 

Bob was trying to do the same, his hands roaming over your body as he took in your scent. Maybe if he asked nicely, you'd let him take a bottle of your perfume with him. 

He was going to need it for the next few months. 

Your mouth clashed against his, tongue desperate to taste him. Wandering hands desperate to feel everything everywhere. 

“When-fuck- when I come back, wanna take you out. W-we can go to that Italian place by your school. The one where you have to wear a tie.” How Bob was able to talk coherently while fucking you was beyond comprehension. 

The Navy will be lucky to have his great ability to multitask. 

“Gonna bring ya flowers too. Sunflowers ‘cause they're-oh my god- you're favorite.” You didn't think you could recall your full name with the way Bob is thrusting into you, much less favorite things. 

Your walls clench around Bob’s thick cock, eliciting a desperate groan from him, rather than the instant ejaculation you were used to. 

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” Bob whined into the crook of your neck.

“That’s-shit- the point,” you grunted, your hips picking up speed. 

Bob shook his head, “Need you to come first.” 

Confusion caused you to still your hips, “Bob, I already-” 

“Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare,” Bob ended his command with a strong thrust that made you feel as if he was splitting you open on his cock. 

Your head dropped down to the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm and the smell of sage was nearly overwhelming. You knew exactly what body wash he had used, as it was the same one he wore ever since junior year, when you commented on how nice it was. 

In hindsight, it was painfully obvious. 

His lips found yours, capturing them in a desperate kiss. When you felt his fingers draw circles on your clit, you saw stars. 

You didn't know it could feel this good with someone. This was more than a quick fuck, as you actually felt cared for. It was intense, the sensitivity of your first orgasm still echoing every time the thick head of his cock brushed against your walls. 

It's audible how wet you are for Bob. He can feel it at the base of his cock, which makes him wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees, or better, your back, all spread out for him. 

“C’mon sweet girl,” he’s panting, voice desperate and raspy, “Wanna-fuck! Wanna feel you come s’bad, please, please baby.” 

Each circle drawn on your clit causes the band in your stomach to tighten. Combined with Bob’s words, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. 

“You're incredible, shit, I-fuck. All yours. Wanna be all yours. Fuck fuck fuck, clenching me so hard, fuck, don't stop.” Obscene was not a word many, if any, would use to describe Bob Floyd. 

Up until thirty minutes ago, you would have considered yourself part of that group. 

But now? Now you were falling apart on his cock. The rush of pleasure had hit like a brick, coursing through your veins. It hit harder than anything else, harder than the now banned alcohol caffeine combo drink, or any controlled substance doctors had prescribed to help you focus. 

His finger-fuck, usually you had to use two of your own- didn’t stop rubbing your clit, nor does he stop thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt. It's almost as if-no, you know Bob’s enjoying making you feel euphoria. 

That's what blows your mind. His laser focus on your pleasure, rather than his own. Truthfully, he could have come already and you wouldn't have thought twice about it. 

But now it was all you could think about. How much he cared, how good he felt. How incredible it was for him to pull your hips flushed against his, filling you to the brim with his cock. 

“Holy shit you're so tight-I, sh-should I pull out?” 

Instead of answering, you used all your strength to rock your hips against him. Considering he made you come twice, the least you could do was help him find his release. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on the strands as your mouth clashed against his. 

The downright guttural groan he releases against your mouth has you clamping down on his cock. The motion finally leads to Bob’s undoing, causing him to come deep inside you, warmth flooding your body. 

His arms are wrapped around your body, clinging onto you as if he thinks you'll disappear if he lets go. 

You’d be a damn fool to. 

The basement is now quiet, apart from the heavy breathing coming from both you and Bob. 

After several minutes pass by, you gather the courage to break the silence, “Did you mean all that? Taking me out on a date and being mine?” 

Bob’s cheek burned a bright red as he timidly nodded his head, “I….yeah. I didn't mean to say it when we were, you know. I'm sorry.” 

You pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm cheek, “Robby, what do you feel the need to apologize for?” 

He looked up to you, those earnest blue eyes sparkling, “Shit timing?” 

“You're not wrong about that, but like you said earlier, I want to work it out with you.” Your words brought comfort, giving Bob the confidence to place a sweet kiss right on your lips. His smile was burning into yours, causing your stomach to flutter. 

“I know it's not that Italian restaurant, but can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?” 

The local diner had been a go-to since y'all were thirteen. But this time would be different. This time you wouldn't feel the urge to look away when he caught you staring. This time neither one would correct the waitress when she'd make a comment about y'all being a cute couple. 

The soft call of your name pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“Uh can I….eat you out again? Tomorrow obviously! Like before we go to the diner?” 

Good Lord this man was going to be the death of you.

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

@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @attapullman @ryebecca @sio-ina-bottle @rhettabbotts @callsignspark @roosterforme @lewmagoo @hangmanapologist @justabovewater20 @theharddeck @cumholland @bobfloydsbabe @sometimesanalice @heartfairy @auroralightsthesky

[scoops-aboy86]

If You Were Serious (Secret Admirer pt 7)

Okay, so there will be more than seven chapters. For now, please enjoy Steve on painkillers and creative mix tape shenanigans.

(The crossed out thing after the first "Dear" is the first line of an E.)

wc: 3226 / rated: T / set end of/after season 3 / also on ao3

Dear I

Dear Secret Amdirer,

Sorry, painkillers kicking in. I got pretty banged up in the mall, in the fire. Well, less the fire and more getting hit by stuff. Mall fell down. I have ribs and eye and nose, and concussion this time so I had to stay over at Robin’s because someone had to keep an eye on me sleeping and my parents are still out of town. Dustin said I won at upper body injury bingo but I didn’t even know I was playing, that sounds like really a shitty game. 

Anyway, I haven’t been home so I don’t know if you tried to call. If you did, don’t worry!!! I’m not mad. I don’t not like you anymore just because you’re you. And this isn’t the durg drugs talking because I read your letter first before they kicked in, but I have to write this ASAP so it can get to you faster. 

You could’ve called back that night but if you needed some time to breathe I get it, it’s cool. And I kinda had a feeling after that you might be a guy? Like, shit, man, they’d eat you alive in this town. Not me, I learned my lesson after Jonathan wrecked my face after I called him and his family some bad things. I deserved that. Kinda funny how the next year he stole my girlfriend and now I like you. If you could still be interested in somebody who used to be like that. 

I know I like you because when you hung up I was really worried, you sounded like you were breathing really fast, maybe a panic attack? I have those after nightmares now. Robin too. (Don’t worry, we bonded and she’s like my sister now, she says we’re playdoh soulmates

“Oh my god, I knew explaining who Plato was was a bad idea. It’s platonic, Steve, not Play-Doh.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder! … How do you spell that?”

“P-L-A-T-O-N-I-C.”

“Thanks Robbie.”

she says we’re playdoh soulmates platonic soulmates.) I was worried about you and thought maybe you might be a guy but, that wasn’t as important as wanting you to be okay, you know? You still wrote me all those nice letters. You’ve made me feel really good about myself, why does it have to be different just because you’re not a girl? I can’t tell you why Robin knows about this stuff but she says I might be bysix bisexual. Not sure why I need a big fancy word for it when I didn’t have one for liking girls, I just know I care about you a lot and want you to like me. 

And you’re not a coward, you’re very very brave. You reached out first, you went for what you wanted even when I didn’t get it and tried to ask for too much too soon. And then you kept coming back to try again, even though I kept doing that. That’s so brave. 

I’m not feeling so awake anymore so I’m going to stop and have Robin mail this for me. (No way am I going out dressed like this. Her dad wears grandpa shorts dude, it’s pretty bad.) I’ll write more when I’m feeling better. Are you okay? Hope you weren’t anywhere near the mall the other night. Thanks for the rainbow song I will look for it.

Love Steve 

~

Once Eddie is done reading, he screams into his pillow for a different reason. Several, actually. 

First, he’s been so sure for the past week or so that he would never hear from Steve ever again. The only reason he’d checked his mail today was because he should have another zine coming in soon. He didn’t, but there was a yellow envelope with familiar, if slightly messier than usual handwriting on it. And inside that, stationary with colorful geometric shapes along the edges that Eddie now surmises is Robin’s. 

Second, Steve isn’t even writing to tell him to fuck off right to hell. Because yes, Eddie had heard the rumors about Steve calling Jonathan Byers a queer. The irony does send a seam of semi-hysterical laughter through his screams. It’s fine. It’s fine!

Third, Steve hasn’t been avoiding his calls. He just hasn’t been home. He’s hurt, and it sounds like his head and torso took quite a beating. Eddie remembers seeing him around school both times after the other concussions and that had looked bad enough, and that had just been his face. This sounds worse. 

Fourth, Steve is… still interested? Has talked to someone about this and might be bisexual?! Eddie’s never had anyone talk to someone else about him, has always been completely anonymous with a possible option of becoming a dirty little secret. And then the letter ends with ‘Love Steve.’ Love? Love Steve?!

Fifth, Robin knows he sent Steve that ice cream. Eddie doesn’t know what all “platonic soulmates” entails, but what if she tells him? What if she already has?!

Sixth, despite being injured, and having panic attacks apparently, Steve is still asking if he is okay. 

Seventh, beneath his name Steve had also doodled a lopsided happy face with what he can only guess is an ice pack balanced on top. Or… maybe it’s hair. Or some kind of hat. 

Any of these would be enough to make his head spin on their own, but it’s all happening at once and he doesn’t know what to do. So he screams into his pillow for a while longer, kicking his feet for good measure. 

He wants to rush out and find Steve, wherever he is. Wants to call him, but doesn’t know what he would say even if he did know the number to reach him right now. What he could say. Wants to wrap both arms around him and kiss his poor head better. Hell, if he’s turned Steve gay he doesn’t just want, he deserves to make that guy the little spoon for the first time in his life probably and just. Hold him. 

Except… he’s not sure he’s ready for face to face yet. He will be! Soon. Once all the emotions bubbling in his chest have settled a little. And after he’s pinched himself a few million more times just to make sure. But until then…

A thought occurs to him, and Eddie rolls over to frown consideringly up at the ceiling. He’s sent Steve words to comfort and reassure him before, right? Maybe there’s something else he can send, a different way of offering a part of himself to Steve until he works up the nerve to face him for real. 

It’s just going to take him a little time, and some recording equipment. 

~

Dearest Steve,

I hope this address is still okay to write to you while you stay with your friend, but I don’t know where she lives. 

You have no idea 

Holy shit man. Holy shit. Are you serious? No, strike that, you’ve been nothing but genuine in these letters and I trust you, I do. Holy shit though. It’s you. Clearly I never thought I’d actually have a chance, from the way I approached this whole thing, so you must forgive me for how utterly poleaxed, completely flabbergasted, and genuinely gobsmacked I am. 

And shit, I’m still sorry for hanging up on you. That golden years line—and this heavy secret of the most basic fact of who I am weighing on my shoulders, pressing down so hard I couldn’t breathe. I wish I’d just said something. But you’re right, I needed… space? And a push, to work up to writing the last letter I sent you. I got yours the day I put that in the mail, by the way, and that spun me even more because what if you read mine and took it all back?

But you didn’t. You didn’t, sweetheart. I’m still reeling in the best possible way. Again, axed like a pole, flabbers gasted, and gob thoroughly smacked.

Enough about me. More than enough about me. You’re concussed; I ought to wrap that gorgeous head of yours in bubble wrap and offer to fight all your battles henceforth, even against falling buildings. I’m glad you have someone out there who’s looking out for you though. I guess… you’ve told Robin about some things? Maybe these letters? Which is absolutely fine, by the way. It’s great! Fuck knows it wouldn’t have occurred to me to explain what bisexuality is, since I hardly dared to dream so big and only swing the one way myself. You’re an amazingly open-minded person by the way, Steve; I hope you know how rare that is, especially in a place like Hawkins. And Robin too, apparently. Please give her my highest regards, she is an angel among mortals and an inadvertent champion of this sad wet rag of a human being (me). 

At any rate, wishing you the speediest of recoveries and I hope you’re already feeling at least a little better. My condolences on the grandpa shorts, although personally I’m convinced you could wear a trash bag and still look like an Adonis. 

It’s taken me a little longer than I’d like to send this because I made something for you. Enclosed is a tape with some of the songs from our call that you said you liked, played acoustically by yours truly. Rainbow In The Dark is one of them. You mentioned having nightmares, and whenever I had bad dreams as a kid my mom would play for me until I calmed down. She’d hum instead of doing the words, to make it more like a lullaby. I hope it’s at least a decent distraction, sweetheart. 

Let me know if you like it? I can make one of your favorite songs too, just you let me know what they are. In the meantime, I remain, as always—

Your Secret Admirer

~

“You should tell him that you know,” Robin whispers, at some point during the fourth night in a row they’ve ended up crashed on the same bed listening to the Anti-Panic Attack Metal Mix. 

Her dad sleeps like the dead and her mom sleeps with earplugs in because he snores, so they get away with it, but Steve always insists on laying on top of the covers anyway. The friendship is still new, for all that they’re trauma bonded, and he wants to make sure she knows he’s not getting any funny ideas, that he gets the whole lesbian thing, that even though he’s new to being into a dude he’s committed to it and not wishy-washy or greedy or whatever.

He fiddles with a loose string on the blanket for a minute before answering. “No… I don’t want to freak him out again. It’s all going to be on his terms from here on out, no more pushing.”

“Well you’ve got to do something. Come on Steve, I’m invested now. Ask to meet him.”

He rolls his eyes. “What did I just say?” 

Immediately he gives an inward wince, because that came out bitchy. But Robin just snorts and murmurs “Fine,” sounding amused rather than offended, so he relaxes. 

They exist in silence for a while, side by side. Just close enough to not feel alone, drifting on the soft notes and low, rich hum. It’s soothing. 

“What if,” Robin starts, and ignores Steve’s huff. “What if you go somewhere you know he might show, and then give him the opportunity to talk to you?”

“Oh yeah,” he scoffs, “like what?”

“Summer house party.” Her whisper picks up a little in excitement as she warms to her own idea. “I bet we can find one that’s coming up soon. Everyone knows that Munson sells, it’s one of those never invited but always welcome things. Then if he doesn’t come to you, just buy some weed and see if he says anything.”

“No,” Steve whispers back. 

She rolls over to squint at him in the dark. “Just think about it, okay? You wouldn’t be forcing him to do anything, just… providing an opportunity. Come on, Stevie-evie, this is my chance to see a gay love story go right.”

“Vetoing that nickname.” With a sigh, he rolls onto his side too, facing her. “My face still looks like raw hamburger meat, Robs. I have like zero charm right now.”

The swelling has gone down, at least to where he can open his eye again but the bruising remains spectacular. It looks like a sunset exploded across the side of his face, and not in a good way. 

Robin rolls her eyes. “You’re more than just your face, dingus. It wasn’t your rugged jawline, sculpted cheekbones, or pimple-free forehead that wrote those letters, it was you. Steve.”

He goes to wrinkle his nose at the descriptions, but quickly remembers that’s still a bad idea with a swallowed grunt. “Please, never describe me again.”

“I make no promises. And anyway, if you’re willing to try makeup I think we could get most of it covered so no one’ll ever notice. Not at night, anyway.”

That gives him pause. He rolls onto his back again to think about it, staring up at the ceiling of Robin’s bedroom and tracing imaginary constellation lines between the glow in the dark stars she has up there. Beside him, he feels her settling on her back too without having to look. 

It’s not like when he’d found a little brother in Dustin—who has visited pretty much every day during Steve’s convalescence, sometimes with Erica or Mike, Lucas, and Max in tow, spouting off things he’s read in books about the various still-healing injuries. As annoying as it is, Steve appreciates that the little dork took the time to study what’s wrong with him enough to provide armchair diagnoses and give him advice about things that he already knows. 

Robin is… more of a twin than a sister. (Which, yeah, twin sister, whatever. That’s not the point.) They’re on the same wavelength in a way he’s never experienced before, not with Tommy or Carol or even Nancy. The closest thing Steve has ever had to this was during basketball games, in the heat of a play where everyone on the team knew where everyone was and where they’d be and how to work together as a unit, perfectly in sync. Only with Robin, it’s all the time. Sometimes they can even finish each other’s sentences—though they try not to do that around her parents, in the interest of not wanting them to think they’re a couple. 

They’re more like a pair of bonded kittens at the pound, Robin says. Must be adopted together. (“Okay, but why can’t we be dogs? Dogs are cooler.” “Because, dingus, you have a one-hundred-and-twenty-seven step hair and skin routine and you’re incredibly aloof when you want to be. I could go either way, but you’re one hundred percent cat.”)

“Maybe,” he whispers finally. 

He’s not sure she’s still awake—he’s not sure he’s still awake, with the soothing music lulling him back to a calm he hadn’t felt even before he’d gone to bed the first time. But he wants to think she hears it, just like he wants to think that he’ll run into Eddie and find out what it’s like to hold his hand, maybe even kiss him, all in the same night. He’s worn lip gloss, he can deal with a little makeup. 

“Maybe I’ll go.”

~

Dear Secret Admirer,

Thank you for the tape, it’s perfect. It helps me get back to sleep because it feels like you’re there, watching over me. Like nothing bad can happen. Sometimes the nightmares still come back after but I think it’s getting better. It takes a while, you know? Last time, after the after Billy after my last concussion it took a while to stop having bad dreams. I guess the mind needs time to heal too, even if the stuff that happens to it isn’t as “real” as breaking a nose or a rib. Who knew?

I really am serious, yeah. Even though I’m me. Whatever that means. I don’t really know what to do with myself or what I want right now. (Except you. Kind of cheesy, but maybe you like that about me? I guess it’s something I always tried to hide before because the guys would’ve made fun of me, fuck knows Tommy did all of junior year, but I kind of like the idea that maybe you saw it anyway.) Once my face heals up me and Robin are going to try and get jobs together somewhere else because we’re cats that have to stick together or we’ll get stressed out and claw all the furniture. Other than that I don’t know what I want to do except leave Hawkins someday. But stick around to make sure it’s to see the kids graduate. Dustin’s starting high school in the fall, maybe you could keep an eye out for him? Curly hair, no collarbones, ego bigger than the whole state, total nerd but in a good way, even if he’s sometimes a butthead about it. He plays that game with dragons and those weird looking dice, do you know it? Him and his friends Mike and Lucas are kind of bully magnets. (Max is starting freshman year too but she can take care of herself in that department.) They’ve all been pretty down after the mall and with Will and moving away and everything. Erica, Lucas’ little sister, I guess I’m her “babysitter” now too, is still in middle school but I don’t know if she’d be glad or insulted if I waited around to see her graduate. She can take care of herself too. She and Dustin were with us for most of the Starcourt burning down and it was a lot, but kids are resilient. I don’t think she gets nightmares, not that she would ever admit to anyone if she did even though in her own words “we’ve bled together.” She’s getting into the nerdy dice game too and is planning her campaign for President of the USA as soon as she turns, what, 40? 50? Whatever age you have to be before you can do that. I’ll probably still be in a town like Hawkins with another lame retail job by then, but she’s got my vote. She’d do a hell of a lot better job than Regan, that’s for sure. 

Is your mom My mom never sang to

Also, you are really good at guitar, man. I still think about your hands, I bet you have long fingers. Really… What’s a word for ‘good with his fingers’? I think about that sometimes. I don’t really know what kind of stuff two guys can do together except the obvious but I think about that a lot. I want you to play me like your guitar. I’d let you fight my battles too, at least until my ribs get back to normal and then we can both fight both of our battles. You know I’d do that for you, right? If you ever need me. I really like these letters. I really like you.

Love, Steve

P.S. If you were serious about making me another tape (which you really don’t have to, this was already going above and beyond), my favorite songs are…

Tag list (and if you missed the earlier chapters check the "#secret admirer steddie" tag on my blog): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @beckkthewreck @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @kurofuckingshi16

@bookworm0690 @millseyes-world @live-laugh-love-dietrich @the-tenth-mus-e

[flagellant]

Have you talked at all about your feelings about Barbie? Cause what little I've seen seems to like up with my feelings on it and it feels weird to be surrounded by unbridled praise or MRAs hating on it because it's Girly™️

At the end of the day Barbie was only ever going to be able to be just a Barbie movie. At the end of the day Mattel paid Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling more than $10,000,000 to be Stereotypical Barbie and Ken. At the end of the day Mattel's stock price has risen to more than 20 dollars per share, more than double in the past two years. At the end of the day Mattel wanted Greta Gerwig to make them a movie that would make the most people possible want to buy more Barbie-branded things. At the end of the day Mattel would only have released a "new breakup movie" if that press was considered more profitable. At the end of the day, Barbie is a story that wants to sell you Barbie, and therefore it cannot have a message which would distract from selling you Barbie. At the end of the day the Mattel CEO and board go back to the real world having learned no valuable life lessons beyond "Listening to a Mexican woman can make you major profit margins". At the end of the day the mother and her daughter have learned the valuable life lesson that the only way the world will pay any attention to the banality of your suffering is if you can sell it to a lot of young girls. At the end of the day Ken's friend Allen is never allowed to be a Ken (man) and therefore is constantly associated with, but never as, the Barbies (women), and no one seems to question this nor care. At the end of the day, all of the Barbies learn that in order to defeat the patriarchy you must be emotionally manipulative and flirty-but-in-an-evil-way. At the end of the day Barbie tells a story about biological essentialism and battle-of-the-sexes in a bright pink #Empowering way and Margot Robbie cries several times. Kens are told that they are "not 'just' Kens" but also that the reason that they sought out the comfort of patriarchy--the idea that their masculinity and manhood was something to be cherished and respected just as much as a Barbie's femininity is, and that they were not lesser or greater than each other--will not be addressed as anything more than a hilarious Gotcha meta-laugh about how at the end of the day women still don't have rights in any meaningful way no matter how empowered they are under the current system. The conflict built around having no vocabulary to describe the complex and difficult emotions that these dolls have been going through has been resolved by ending the movie before resolving or questioning this. At the end of the day the Kens are villains and jokes, and as the credits roll, we can be safe in knowing that absolutely nothing has changed and all of this will happen again in the exact same ways.

In the movie Barbie, at the end of the day, Ken asks to sleep over at Barbie's Dream House for the night, and she tells him no, because it is Girl's Night, every night, forever. We see the Barbies go to sleep with Stereotypical Barbie saying, "Good night, Barbies! I'm definitely not thinking about death anymore!" This is very funny, and she goes to sleep and then wakes up feeling probably about how I do every morning, which is supposed to be relatable.

At the end of the day, in the movie Barbie, we see Ken walking away from Stereotypical Barbie's deathless and eternal slumber party dejected and alone. He is walking to the exit of the Barbie Dreamhouse Neighborhood. We do not see if he gets to go to sleep in his own house. We, in fact, see quite a lot which implies he is homeless and goes to sleep on the beach, which I was forced to do when I was 18 in Santa Cruz in one of my first attempts to escape a toxic and abusive household. I still remember the way that the sea can rot when trapped by wooden pier foundations, covered in mildew-wet seafoam, old kelp from the high tide, and the way that when I got up the next morning you could see exactly how I'd fallen asleep like an old-school chalk outline of where a corpse was.

At the end of the day, in the movie Barbie, what the Kens wanted revolved around having their own homes that they could go to sleep in and fill with things that made them happy just like how the Barbies did. This is supposed to be a symbol of patriarchy, because they corrupted the femininity of the Dream Houses, and that is bad. When the Barbies win, at the end of the day, the Dream Houses go back to being Dream Houses, and we still have never once seen any sign that the Kens had houses, and the movie assures us that if they don't, then "maybe someday" they might have enough societal power to be able to try and fight for a house that they're allowed to own and have be theirs, something that women in Western society have only quite relatively recently gained the permission and possibility to do, and Barbieland is basically the same as the real world but with the "two" genders switched.

At the end of the day, if I try to actually analyze the Barbie movie as a bioessentialist antifeminist and anti-intersectional regressive film which glorifies the thinnest possible shred of pro-capitalism feminism possible, I'll sound like a fucking lunatic, because it's just a stupid movie about dolls made to sell you Barbies, and of course it would never be anything but bioessentialist pro-capitalist toothless brand bullshit which wants you to think that Margot Robbie and wearing pink are the peaks of antipatriarchal activism. At the end of the day, Celluloid Barbie can only exist because Mattel thinks Celluloid Barbie would make its brand a lot of money, and not because it actually cares about the anti-ageing fatphobic standards of Western womanhood, because Mattel is a brand which can care about nothing except being a machine which you put money into and in exchange pink plastic bullshit comes out.

[pearlaquaoceans]

Maybe I'm having a total brain fart and can't recall the moment, but.. Dorian hasn't actually told anyone his brother was murdered by a Lolth right? He only said his brother was dead, his friends were now champions of two of the gods, and he's seen evil in the world. If he did actually say 'Lolth, a god, killed my brother' or the like, please, for the love of the gods, send me a timestamp to shut me up. I saw that last chunk of 93 when it was discussed most prominently, as Dorian took every opportunity to not talk about it because he couldn't handle saying it out loud.

I'm seeing so many takes that Orym is heartless, selfish, or terrible for shutting Dorian down in the conversation and yes it is not okay to do that to someone, but like.. has Dorian communicated any of that fight to Orym? Robbie has said Dorian is the ultimate compartmentalizer, so why would he talk about it when he could just ignore it? So how would Orym know?

Yes, it's dick move, but also how many people have done a 'maybe we hear Ludinus out' even when knowing Orym's story? That's gonna wear anyone down. Seeing the man you love be on the opposite side of the conversation must hurt. I do not believe Orym would say that same rebuttel if he had full context. Same with swordgate. Laudna did not say anything but did try to steal it and ended up causing harm to him and escalating the situation at breakneck speed. As soon as he had even a slightly better understanding of the situation, he put the sword down and said he chose her over the sword.

If Dorian isn't going to communicate his pain and his experience to give Orym a new understanding of the situation, how is Orym supposed to know? Orym often asks for people to spell it out for him, and subtle context clues are not his Forte, but fans seem to expect him to know all the things he hasn't been told. Again. Shooting Dorian down was wrong (I believe Liam knew exactly what he was doing because he wanted that tension because its juicy and he is the king of it), but I'm genuinely confused by the takes saying Orym is horrible for the things he said like he said them knowingly. If Dorian cannot communicate what has caused his pains, how is Orym supposed to save him from that pain or to understand his view?

This is, of course, me viewing 103 through my own lens of my experiences and how I understand and connect to the characters. I am also someone who struggles to pick up context clues. If I'm not told anything but people expect me to know the rules of the engagement regardless, I'm gonna fail. People are allowed to have their own views. I know I don't have charitable views of certain characters. I'm just confused why Orym is called an asshole for his words, more than once, when the conversations being had aren't exactly even playing fields. Again, if there's a timestamp, please let me know so I can recontextualize my own understanding of the conversation.