#and that jacket they put him in............................

[retiredteabag]

winter weight (nanami ver)

Synopsis: nanami has gained some weight this winter, it seems you don't mind.

based on this fanfic I wrote for Toji which was based on this fanart! thank you @lil-sis for requesting more nanami :,)

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

You had known Nanami Kento for years before you were romantically involved. He had never made an inappropriate comment, always treated you with the utmost respect, and was all-around, the truest form of a gentleman.

For a time, you locked away your feelings for the kind man, sure he could never see you in that way, but little did you know, the man in question hid from your gaze, not because he did not want to see you, but in fear that you would see him. See him for what he was: a man, obsessed.

You had been with Ken for nine months now and he was everything you could want and more. He was communicative, thoughtful, and romantic. He looked at you in a way nobody had before. Likewise, for you, those nine months passed with comfortable ease.

This was your first winter together, and with the changing of the seasons you learned day by day that the man you knew was your life partner. The both of you were homebodies in a sense, however, with the chilly air and light snowfall this week, you were even more keen on a night in together.

You raced around the house, lighting candles, simmering mulling spices on the stove, and laying out blankets for the two of you. The house felt even cozier knowing that Ken was coming to join you.

He had spent the afternoon with his parents and was coming over after having dinner, he told you to eat without him and you had just finished cleaning your plate when you received a text,

"I am on my way now, sweetheart, is there anything you would like from the store?"

Ken was like this, domestic in the way that made you want to bounce around the room. You thought for a moment before deciding you would probably need more eggs. Earlier this week the two of you had planned a movie night, the next morning you were both hoping to bake cookies together while playing board games or taking turns reading to one another.

You informed him of the need for eggs and he told you he would be just a few more minutes. During that time you scrolled through the choices of movies, picking a few for the two of you to choose from.

Despite being together longer than the gestational period for a baby human, you still received butterflies in your stomach at the thought of his arrival. Knowing he was nearly home, you bounded to the kitchen and faced the door, the room smelled delicious, the only thing missing was his presence, and perhaps another layer of clothing.

Even so, you could hear his footsteps approach and knew that the two of you would share a blanket and body heat in no time.

When the man finally opened the door he was smiling shyly, a red dusting across his face from the cold. He wore a long winter coat, and in his arms were a bouquet of flowers and a wrapped gift.

You rushed to greet him, taking the day bag from his arm,

"Oh! Ken, they're beautiful!" You stood on tiptoe as he bent his knee and you kissed his cold cheek. "Goodness, you're freezing! Come in please!"

"Hello, my love." He smiled more broadly now, wrapping his free arm around you, "This if from my parents, but they told me not to let you open it until the holidays."

A warmth ran through you, the Nanami's were all too kind. Kento set the flowers on the counter and stepped toward the coat rack by the door to retire his shoes and jacket.

In the motion it took for him to pull the sleeves off his broad shoulders, you took him in. Leaning on the kitchen counter you allowed yourself to stare at him. His dress shirt was tight on his arms, and his suit pants clung to his thighs. You took a step toward him again.

"I almost don't want you to change, you look so handsome in your work clothes."

"Well, I've certainly put on some weight. These pants hardly fit now." he looks increasingly uncomfortable, not to be in your presence but to show that he was dressed in such a tailored fashion.

"Ken, my dear, you look incredible." You contain the desire to squeeze his thigh by walking to the bedroom and bringing out a pair of sweats and a cotton shirt.

"Although you are a delight to see this way, I'll let you get comfortable." You smile and pinch his bicep.

"Thank you, dear, I don't believe I've ever been so heavy. It's all the good restaurants you introduce me to, perhaps I should get back into the gym." He had grabbed the soft clothes you picked for him and walked into the bedroom to change.

"You're the one bringing me to all those good restaurants so you can't just blame me." You smile from outside the door.

"I'm just grateful you're with me" He laughs, pulling the shirt over his head.

"Ugh!" You exclaim, "Of course, Ken, don't say something so ridiculous." He laughs but you are still caught on what he said earlier. "And don't start going to the gym, you look great, very chewable."

He pops out from behind the door and looks down at you, amused. "I'm not sure how to feel about that descriptor, but if you still like me with extra weight, then I suppose I can remain comfortable."

"Still like you?" You gasp offended, "Ken, I grow more attracted to you every day, I don't care how tight your clothes are, in fact, it's a good look."

He gives you a mischievous face, "Go sit on the couch, pick a movie, stop trying to seduce me."

You laugh, incredulous, "I'm not trying anything, I'm only speaking the truth." You shrug, bounding to the couch and crawling beneath the blanket. Ken brings two mugs of cider before joining you.

That night you lay on his chest, watching a cheesy romance, the both of you laughing at the silly main character. You tilt your head up, to watch his face, your eyes catching the beginning of a few grey hairs dispersed in his blonde hair. You gently run your hand through his undercut.

In that moment, in his arms, as comfortable as you've ever been, you are sure, he is the man you will grow old with.

[leviismybby]

You hurry down the hallway to the meeting room, Levi following shortly after you. The two of you looked like a mess, hair messy, clothes wrinkled. "You and your quickie." You mumble under your breath, Levi pulled you into his office earlier for a quick round, expect it tunred out longer than you two expected, and now you're late, 50 minutes late. "You weren't complaining five minutes ago." He says, his voice gruff as he puts his jacket back on. "You should cover your neck." He adds, tying his cravat in place, the same cravat that was in your mouth to shut you up while his cock was pouding you just ten minutes ago. "Oh really? I didn't know know." It comes out more sarcastically than you wanted but right now, all you were focused on is reaching the meeting room.

With a sigh, you open the door, Levi comes in right after you. All the eyes are on you, some of them suspicious, others mad. Erwin doesn't say anything, just nods for you two to sit down. The meeting wouldn't last long, well, at least not for you and Levi. You teasingly put your hand on Levi's upper thigh and he grunts slightly, cursing under his breath. "Fuck you." Smiling, you squeeze his thigh, his other foot taps on the ground, he is a minute away from telling everyone in the room to screw off so he can fuck you right then and there. "Minx." Another breathy groan leaves him when you run your fingers around his bulge. Luckily for Levi, the meeting ends and the rooms clears. Before you can exit, Levi closes the door and pulls you to him. "No the fuck you don't." His hands wraps around your neck and he pins you to the wall. "I don't care who hears you. I am about to ruin you, princess."

[thinkinonsense]

VELVET ELVIS ❤︎

lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: fluff! domesticity! soft!logan pregnancy

author's note: this was inspired by the kacey musgraves song! just wanted to write some fluff :)

divider credit: @/roseraris

within these cabin walls, time stood still. logan liked his life and the time machine he's built himself. you and him live in a 60's dream home.

during the weekdays, logan went to work at the lumberyard while you stayed at home and worked on your paintings. when the two of you moved in together years ago, logan got you to agree to quit your job and prioritize your talents since he was able to do triple the amount of work for a normal man, money would never an issue.

on saturday's, the two of you would go into town and you would bring your art pieces to a shop downtown for them to sell. whatever money you made, you put back towards the supplies you needed because logan covered everything else.

"well, don't 'cha look like a dream" logan compliments as he watches you get ready in the mirror.

"thank you, sugar." you smile as he leans down to kiss your temple then down to your cheek.

"prettiest fuckin' thing i've ever seen." he mutters against your skin. "is this new?"

both of your eyes fall down to the satin powder blue slip dress that adorned your frame. he loved the way it looked with your pretty white mary jane boots and the small bump blooming underneath the soft material of your dress.

"yeah, picked it up earlier this week." you reply, removing the curlers in your hair and teasing the pieces of hair up high.

"love it." logan says, nibbling at your earlobe.

"logan..." you giggle, lightly shoving him away. "go get dressed so we can leave."

"yes, ma'am."

reluctantly, logan gets up and grabs the nice outfit you put together for him earlier. a fresh pair of denim jeans, a white shirt and his brown leather jacket. as an anniversary present one year, you got logan a silver star shaped belt buckle that matched the necklace he got for your birthday when you two first met. in the mirror, you watched him put it on.

"whatcha thinkin' about over there, sweetheart?" he smirks, looking up to find your eyes.

"dippin' you in honey."

"dirty. i like it."

"not like that, perv." you giggle. "just wanna be stuck to you forever."

"that's sweet." he says, walking over, bending down, and gently grabbing your chin to kiss you.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

once the two of you make it inside the tiny shop, logan brings in your painting while you greet the older ladies who own the building. all of them fawn over logan and your round tummy; telling you how lucky you are. something you never let yourself forget.

"you'll never believe what we picked up the gala last weekend." one of the grey haired women tells you.

"what did you two find?" you asked, always curious to their treasures.

"the hell kinda painting is this?" logan asks, looking sideways at one of the paintings on the wall.

the sight makes you laugh. no matter how long you two have been together, logan still struggles to see some of the beauty that you do in certain art pieces.

"i think the handsome lumberjack found it." the other lady winked as they guide you over to where logan stood. hanging upon the wall sat a velvet elvis painting.

"oh my!" you gasp.

ever since you were a little girl, you adored the painting that some would call 'tacky'.

"you like that, sweets?" he questions but you ignore it, stepping closer, running a finger along the golden frame.

"my grandma used to have one in her living room, it was her most prized possession –well, next to my grandpa."

behind you, logan could see the couple smiling to each other. too busy amazed by the painting to notice anything else around you.

“what a lucky find!” you marvel, turning around to face them.

“which is why we want you to have it.” one of them says while the other takes it down from the wall.

in shock, you shake your head insisting that you couldn’t allow them to give it away. they insist on you two taking it home, telling you to hang it somewhere nice. logan wasn’t exactly thrilled to have the painting in the home but he knew you adored it so he would never say a word out loud.

on the way home that night, you raved about the piece. logan loved hearing you talk about the things you were passionate about. he could listen to you explain color theory for hours. his own personal, prettier version of bob ross. when he brought in the painting, you told him exactly where you wanted to hang it in the living room.

“right there, baby.” you instruct him. “be careful.”

the man couldn’t be hurt if he tried but he found your warning cute. once it was hung up, you both step back to admire it. the art work did at least match the aesthetic of the house, logan could admit.

“i mean, its no mona lisa but i don’t mind it.” logan says, pulling you in to kiss your forehead.

“you know, i don’t really care for the mona lisa.” you admit with a shrug.

“really?”

“mhm, don’t like that everyone fawns over it. i want character, creativity, and something unique."

"hm.." he hums, swaying you gently.

"this painting reminds me of you." your voice meek and muffled against his shirt.

"is that so?" he asks, looking down at you.

you nod. "i want something no one else has and something no one else will ever understand the way that i do. you're my favorite work of art, lo."

"i'm only a work of art because you carved and molded me with your beautiful mind." he says, trying to allow a tear to fall down his face.

logan couldn't believe the life he'd been gifted after all the shit he's dealt with in his lifetime. he didn't deserve this; he didn't deserve you. your kindness, your warmth, your talent, your body that carries the only other human he will ever love as much as you. he would never be able to repay you for this little life and slice of peace that you've gifted him.

[buntanteen]

boyfriend!jeonghan headcanons (sfw & nsfw)

summary: hannie as a boyfriend (romantic and sexual partner) towards reader headcanons :) can be read separately or as a part of upcoming the poly!jihan hcs

contains: 18+ nsfw (mdni!!) reader is on the receiving end of penetration.

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

you'll never know which boyfriend!jeonghan you're going to get😌the silly goofy sulky one? the completely love struck one who will do anything for you? the absolute tease? a silly gremlin? a sulky clingy guy?

you having a pet rock too (so doljjong isn’t lonely kjfgbdk). you make sure to send boyfriend!jeonghan pics of your kids together when he’s away!! they always feature in the pictures of your at home breakfasts and dinners~ if you can’t bring them with you, you make sure to do a ridiculous photoshop of them in the setting, just to make hannie laugh 🥰

to boyfriend!jeonghan, you will always be "yeobo" and "jagiya" (i can just hear him elongating the yaaaaaa). what even is your real name?🤷 he doesn’t know anymore

during aftercare, soft dom!jeonghan will be praising you and calling you “angel”. he becomes more and more convinced that you’re an angel

teaser!jeonghan loving to bite you. he’ll nip at your neck and soothes the pain over with his tongue. he’ll give lil kisses to the fully formed hickeys littered across your neck, chest and thighs  

boyfriend!jeonghan being completely enamoured when you’re playful with him. he’ll be tracing around your lips and when u nip at his fingers. he does that jeonghan "ah!" of his and starts sulking, you apologise by giving a kiss to his finger, his palm, his wrist and trail up to his face…he'll be melting hehe

it is a must 😤to give boyfriend!jeonghan lil pecks on his cheeks when he does that closed eyes content smile of his. he’ll always giving you the gentlest kisses on the cheek back

cockwarming teaser!jeonghan is one of his favourite activities with you. cuz he gets to be close to you??? and have you wrapped around him?? and gets to do what he wants whilst making u whine?? sign him up 😌😌

when he’s cold, boyfriend!jeonghan will link your arms with his and hold hands. the moment he hits you with one of his 🥺, you’ll shove your intertwined hands into your jacket pocket where a prepared heat packet lays to keep both your fingers from freezing

on the other hand, boyfriend!jeonghan put his cold ass hands or feet on you <3 he just loves to hear your whine and sulk and pout~

soft dom!jeonghan who gets worn out easily, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to make his baby to feel so so good. makes you ride his cock to pleasure yourself, guiding your hips with his hands. he loves this the most because the visual off you getting off because of him is insane (and partially cuz he wants u to work for it…)

our little mastermind boyfriend!jeonghan will cheat when playing games with you. but will cheat FOR you when y’all are playing with others. he has pushed the other members over, tickled them, distracted them, bribed them and yoinked away their controllers so you win first place in mario cart 😌

boyfriend!jeonghan who pinches and pats your butt before sliding his hand in your back pocket. looks innocently and giggles at your :| face

teaser!jeonghan loves loves loves to tease you. loves slapping his hard cock against your hole and rubbing it against it…the reactions you give are so addicting

boyfriend!jeonghan having an obsession with your thighs. when you're sitting side by side, he’ll swing your legs over onto his lap and playing with your thighs. just absent minded running his hands up and down your legs whilst scrolling on his phone

loves listening to your pretty noises while teaser!jeonghan has your legs spread apart and a vibrator against you. wants you whining and writhing for as long as he can 🥰

finding boyfriend!jeonghan’s ability to adapt to situations and still get his desired outcome so fucking hot. he’ll notice you nearly drooling when you’re visiting the gose set and wink at you

driving home after filming and teasing teaser!jeonghan grinding against his hand but not letting him have his gaze on you? absolute torture for him.  telling him “eyes on the road, baby. don’t you want to get home faster? 🥺”

boyfriend!jeonghan who'll pull away from a kiss and intentionally move away more to see you move closer to his lips. likes to see how far he can move back before you catch on. “you want me that much, huh?” “nvm :/” “WAIT NO”

boyfriend!jeonghan who is your island when times get rough. he is the constant waterfall that lulls into a slow-paced stream. he is your place of solitude and safety

ames' songs recs: boyfriend by yeonjun, raise y_our glass by huh yunjin, the astronaut by jin, love me back by fromis_9, to you by seventeen, our summer by txt, just one day by bts, love maze by bts, love me twice by huh yunjin & luv in skool by bts

ames note: hi everyoneee, it has been a while!! i wanted to get this done sooner but decided to release it on hannie's enlistment day as a distraction from the feelingsss. he'll come home safely and soon!! the time flies by super quickly~ <3 take care of yourselves, we have so much to look forward to ^^

this was originally going to be my first time writing something...ever but the fwb!mingyu one came out first hah. then the cockwarming dilf!mingyu... then the joshua boyfriend headcanons... i remember trying to write smth for loki over 5 years ago so its lowkey (HAH) full circle that i wrote about svt's loki. i hope y'all enjoyed~ i'll be working on a jeonghan fic rec list before the jihan poly headcanon comes out!! <3 ς(.-‿-)

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.

[moonlight-prose]

since you kindly offered this brilliant piece I have a thot for you. giving logan nasty nasty head as he’s trying to eat dinner 🤭

note: i sat with this for several hours after we hung up and i could not get it out of my head. he's a munch. we know this. it's a fact (disney grow some balls and say it outloud). but my god is he a whore for some good head. give him sloppy toppy and he's wrapped around your finger; he's yours, ready to put a ring on it and drag you to the courthouse himself.

Dinner is a quiet affair in the Howlett household. It's mixed with soft conversation and intimate jokes. Comments about your days, hands held over the table as candle wax dripped over the yellowed cloth. It's warm - domestic.

But on nights when adrenaline ran a bit too high and wine began to drip heat down your spine, you found that you couldn't resist the pull of him.

He sat in his usual chair, legs spread and eyes tracking your movements as you left the kitchen. A bottle of wine in one hand, his whiskey in the other.

His grin is soft. A docile man who'd been tamed by the lover he never expected. And you can feel the heat begin to curl around your stomach. Tugging on the nerves that thrummed beneath your skin. He'd never realize how far gone you were for him; how every move and choice depended on whether or not he'd smile your way.

"Smells good sweetheart." His voice is low, the grit of husk behind each lilted drawl.

You could feel warmth flicker to life beneath the supple skin of your cheeks as his gaze continued to track how you sat in your chair. Eyes dragging down the figure clad a t-shirt that had seen better days and jeans with a gaping hole in the knee.

There was no denying you dressed for comfort. Logan still felt his cock stiffen at the sight of you in dark washed denim though.

The smile is pulled from the depths of your chest. "I couldn't decide what to make."

You know you sound flustered. You know your voice is higher than normal.

You know he caught it by the sharp glint of his teeth poking through an already crooked smile.

"I'll eat anythin' you make," he admits with a soft clack of his fork tapping his plate.

The double meaning isn't lost on you. In fact it shoots a hole right through your chest, floods your body with that syrupy thick heat that you feel drip down to the tips of your fingers. His nostrils flare - eyes glancing down to the table that covers your lap - before he's filling his mouth with food.

Honestly you can't even recall how it happened. The entire ordeal a hazy cloud of lust that had you slipping out of your seat, and dropping to your knees beneath the table. His eyes went wide as your hands pushed at his legs, forcing them to spread. And when he made no move to stop you, the rest clicked into place with ease.

Logan smells of his cigar he smoked after work. He smells of spice and the musk of sweat and leather from his jackets that hung in the hall closet.

He is everything you could possibly want in a husband. Everything you asked for checked off with a flourished hand and a welcomed smile.

"Baby what-" He chokes on his food when your hands undo his belt, the button of his jeans, and pull him free with a choked whine. "Oh fuck."

That. That's what you were looking for after a day filled with his absence. The stifled moan at the back of his throat when your tongue licked up his cock - whining when the taste of him burst across your taste buds. You couldn't deny yourself him when he let you suck on the head, spit trailing down your chin and into his lap.

His hand moves to cup the back of your neck, fingers tightening around his fork, and it isn't until you've got him halfway down your throat does he understand what you want.

The clink of metal scratching porcelain sends heat down your spine. He moans around a mouthful of food as your head bobs, mouth sucking him in deeper, further, until he hits the back of your throat and makes you gag.

"You're fuckin' filthy for me aren't ya," he mutters, thumb rubbing into your skin. "Makin' me eat while you get dinner of your own."

Your eyes roll back, pussy clenching down hard around nothing. Because fuck he's right. You'd stay on your knees until pain flared up. You'd keep him down your throat until you lost the ability to speak.

You'd suck him dry morning, noon, and night to hear the noises that slipped past his lips.

"'M gonna give you want ya want baby," he grunts.

His hips rock up off the chair, hand pushing your head down further until your nose was buried in the dark hair tinged with the musky scent of him. It's wet and messy and spit has formed into globs that roll down the expanse of your throat.

You're so far gone all you can do is give a choked moan, body trembling as your lungs screamed for air.

That's the fucked up part though. You'd die on his cock if it meant getting to please him.

He cums with a harsh snap of your name, chest heaving and plate long forgotten. Shudders roll down your spine, slick pooling between your thighs as he spurts down your throat. Spilling out the sides of your mouth.

"Eat your dinner sweetheart so I can have some fuckin' desert."

[avocado-writing]

For the prompts: ‘sharing a blanket. snuggled up together.’ with Logan ?

That man deserves the most domestic of cuddles ♥️

Logan gets home from work late to find you shivering on the couch, staunchly wrapped up in a jumper and staring determinedly at the tv like your jaw isn’t chattering. It’s equal parts cute and ridiculous, if he’s honest.

He puts his jacket down with enough force that you jump and turn to him, unable to hear him until now over the clatter of your teeth. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Cold?”

“Of course I’m not!” you lie. He sighs to himself. You are so determined not to turn the heat on until you really need it, like you’re waging a one-person war against the power company. It’s kinda admirable - after all, it’d be the pot calling the kettle black if accused you of being stubborn - but he doesn’t like to see you uncomfortable.

Toeing off his boots, Logan crosses the living room towards you, grabbing the gingham fleece you’ve had for years now and slinging it across his shoulder in order to leave his arms free for scooping you up. You yelp at being manhandled but don’t complain any more than that, letting him place you into his lap and cover you both with the blanket.

He knows he runs hot. More than once you’ve called him your own hot water bottle, so when he wraps his arms around you it’s natural you snuggle yourself into his warmth. Your face buries into the heated skin of his neck and you make a contended little noise, almost like a purr.

“Sure you’re not a little chilly, baby?”

You grumble, tucking your legs into the cocoon he’s made for you both.

“You’ll never get me to confess,” you mutter. “Besides, I always like the ideas you have to warm me up…”

Your hand goes wandering. Logan grins.

[moonstruckme]

hiii. congrats on 7k!! can i order an apple pie with ²⁸⁾ dark lipstick smeared on a cheek for stevee?? tysmm💗💗💗💗

Thank you!!

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 585 words

You’re proud of yourself for being able to even half follow the movie. You didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand, but the theater is dark and nearly empty except for a few teenagers several rows below you, and you should have known you were in for trouble when Steve picked a seat in the back corner. You keep trying to break things off and pay attention to the screen, but your lips come back to each other’s like magnets every time. 

Steve has shown no inclination to watch the movie, though you know he’d never pressure you if you indicated you didn’t want the distraction. You can feel the asking in the soft presses of his mouth each time you start up again, hi and do you want to and is this okay, all syrupy coke and the bite of the sour candies he’d eaten during the commercials. His hand has taken up permanent residence on your thigh, chaste but there. His torso stays turned toward you like a flower toward the sun. 

You open your eyes for a second, catching a glimpse of the screen. “Isn’t that her sister?” 

Steve indulges you, turning his attention in that direction. “Maybe they’re trying to take it in a love triangle direction?” he replies quietly.

“Ew, with the sister?” 

“I don’t know.” His whisper carries a familiar tone, like he can’t decide whether to be exhausted or amused by you. “Rom coms are weird.” 

“Oh, wait.” You perk up. “He’s asking the sister for her ring size. Are they getting married?” 

“Well, it’s probably the end of the movie. Getting close to a couple hours now.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, baby.” Steve seems to decide on amusement. 

You exhale softly, dismayed, and he rubs your thigh consolingly. “I can’t believe we missed the whole thing,” you say.

“We can catch it again, if you want. Or just stay for the next showing.” 

“Will we get to actually watch this time?” 

Steve drops his head to your shoulder, puffing air down your arm. “If you really wanna,” he says reluctantly. 

You smile where he can’t see you. “Why did you agree to this one if you didn’t even want to watch it?” 

“Because you wanted to.” He kisses your shoulder, a quick peck. 

You make him sit up when the lights come on. His hair is mussed slightly, and when he gets a look at you a grin splits his face. 

“Oh, c’mere.” He puts himself between you and the rest of the theater, wiping at something near your lips. 

“What?” 

“You’ve got lipstick all over you.” 

Your eyes widen, and you look at his mouth. Kiss-swollen, with a dark rim you can see even with his face cast in shadow. 

“Oh my god, it’s on you too. I forgot I was wearing it.” 

“Shit, can you get it? It’s not coming off of you. What is this shit, bulletproof?” 

“Supposed to be smearproof,” you mumble. You thumb at his top lip, but the color stays stuck. You can hear the teens chatting as they file out behind him. “I don’t know how we got it all over.” 

“We’re just that good,” Steve mutters, but his tone is less humorous than bitter. After a few more seconds, he gives up. “Okay.” He gets up, grabbing your trash and his jacket. “We’re just going to have to get it off in the bathroom.”

You’re horrified. “But everyone will see.” 

“I work here. Trust me, we’ve seen worse.”

[firewasabeast]

“Tommy!” Eddie cheered, lifting his drink toward the sky as he spotted his friend walking toward him. “Whatcha doin' here, Man?”

“Figured I'd stop by and see how you were doing, Bud,” Tommy replied. He gave Eddie a pat on the back as he sat down in the empty seat next to him. “You come here alone?”

“Mhm. Needed ta get out. House's too quiet.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Too long,” the bartender interrupted as he walked by. “Was about to cut him off. I already took his keys.”

Eddie's eyebrows furrowed, looking around the bar counter. “Hey! You took my keys.”

“I got him,” Tommy said, giving the bartender a nod. “I gotta say, at least you're talking better than you're texting. I was worried.”

Eddie's face scrunched up in confusion. “Huh? I never did texted you.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” Tommy fished his phone out of his jacket pocket and went to his messages. “'Buuuuuuuck, lezz drink, Buddy.' Then five minutes later, 'Bruck, why rn't you at bar? I waiting.' A good two minutes after that you sent me your location with an angry emoji. Then, and this is my personal favorite, 'Loser too busy kissy kissy with Tummy to be a friendship.'”

"Huh. Thought I was textin' Buck.”

“Yeah, I pieced that together.”

“So where's Buck if you're not kissy kissy?” Eddie asked, his final drink sloshing over his fingers as he attempted to bring it to his lips.

Tommy took the drink from Eddie and set it back on the counter. “Evan is watching Jee overnight so Howie and Maddie can have a night away. So, you wanna talk about whatever's bothering you? I mean, I could take a guess, but...”

“Nah. No, no, nope. I wanna,” Eddie pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Lessgo karaoke, Tomboy-”

“We're not calling me that.”

“I wanna sing to the rooftops,” Eddie continued, his words slurring more and more with each sentence. “I wanna. I wanna be, you know, be free, Tommy. I don't have a rea-,” he hiccuped, “reason to get back home.”

“Really? Seems like that's exactly where you need to be right now.”

Eddie's eyes widened, like he'd thought of the best idea in the entire world. “Let's go to Peeping Tom! That's your name!”

“Peeping Tom is a gay bar, Eddie.”

“I don judge.”

“A very kinky, fully nude gay bar,” Tommy clarified.

Eddie squinted, deep in thought. “No karaoke?”

“No karaoke.”

“Well, then were we go? Don't say home!”

“Home.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groaned, allowing Tommy to wrap an arm around his back and help him up. “You're like a no- no fun dad. Wish I'd texted fun dad.”

Tommy gripped onto Eddie tighter as he stumbled while taking a step. He sighed. “Maybe next time.”

*****

When Eddie woke up the next morning it was to a pounding headache and blinding sunlight coming through his window. He was nauseous and his mouth tasted like a mixture of gasoline and mouthwash.

He laid there for a few minutes, trying to figure out what happened that made him feel so unbelievably ill.

After a few failed attempts, he finally rolled out of bed and made his way into the kitchen to fix himself some coffee.

He froze when he walked through the door to see Tommy sitting there, reading the newspaper.

“Good... morning?” Eddie started, confused.

Tommy set the paper down. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“I- I think so, I guess. It's a little blurry.”

Tommy hummed. “Not surprising. Coffee just finished, if you want some. Your couch is not comfortable, by the way.”

“Buck's never complained.”

“Yeah, well, he's easier to please than I am.”

Eddie was too hungover for this. He had so many questions, but for some reason the first one out of his mouth was: “Where'd you put my shoes?”

“In your closet.”

He grabbed himself a cup for some coffee. “My keys?”

“We have to go pick them up at the bar today, along with your car, obviously.”

“You didn't close my curtains last night. Woke up thinking I was being interrogated by Ice T.”

Tommy sighed, leaning back in his seat. “'Thank you so much for getting me home safely, Tommy. Did it hurt your back having to drag me into the house while I belted out Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of my lungs?'” He stood, walking over to Eddie and taking the coffee out of his hand, drinking a big sip. “Thank you for asking, Eddie. I think my back will be okay, but my ears will never recover.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, turning to fix himself another cup. “Thank you for getting me home safely, Tommy. I appreciate it.”

“Mhm. No problem.” Tommy returned to his seat and Eddie joined him at the table. They sat in silence for a couple minutes, taking small sips of their drinks.

Eventually, Tommy set his cup down a little harder than normal, getting Eddie's attention with the clinking sound. “Wanna talk about it?”

“About what? How your coffee tastes like cigarette sludge?”

“I'll take that as a no then.” Tommy checked his watch. “The bar doesn't open until three. Want me to stop by and pick you up then?”

Eddie shook his head. “I can just get an Uber, Man, thanks though.”

“Of course. I'll, uh, let you recover.” Tommy stood and went to leave, checking his pocket for his keys and phone.

As he neared the door, Eddie spoke. “Wait,” he said. Tommy turned back to face him.

“Yeah?”

“Why'd you sleep on my couch?”

“You're my friend,” he answered simply. “You drank a lot. Wanted to make sure you were okay.” He took a step back toward the table. “Are you okay?”

Eddie cradled the mug in his hands, watching the steam rise from the cup. “You don't... How long has it been? Since you talked to your dad?”

Okay, so Tommy wasn't leaving then.

He came to the table and sat down, taking a moment to think about Eddie's question. “About six years, I think.”

“What did he do?” He looked over at Tommy. “To make you stop talking to him, I mean. Unless you don't wanna get into it. In fact, forget it, I shouldn't-”

“Eddie, it's fine,” Tommy assured him. “I don't mind.”

“Okay,” Eddie nodded, sitting up straighter. “So? What happened?”

“It wasn't just one thing,” Tommy explained. “It was a lifetime of things. He's... He's not a good man. I think the catalyst was about a year after I came out. I hadn't been home in awhile, so I decided to drive to his place one weekend. When he answered the door he said, 'What the hell are you doing here?' I told him I was coming to see him and he said, 'What's the damn point in that?' I thought about it for a second and realized that was a good question, so I turned around, got in my car, and left. Never looked back.” Eddie seemed to be contemplating his words, and Tommy could tell where this was going. “It's not the same thing, Eddie,” he said, beating Eddie to it.

“What if he doesn't come back? What I did, Tommy, it wasn't... It was bad.”

“You made a mistake.”

“I cheated on my girlfriend with a doppelganger of his mom, Tommy, and he caught me.”

“Granted, it was a big mistake,” Tommy deadpanned. “But, still a mistake. He'll come around. You gotta give him time.”

“People keep telling me that,” Eddie replied with an eye roll. “That he'll come around. But it's been months of nothing. And it seems like no matter what I do, it's not enough.”

“You're trying.”

Eddie huffed. “I'm not sure getting drunk alone at a bar is trying.”

“I think it shows you care, Eddie. And, yeah, that shouldn't become a habit, but you're allowed to be upset. You're allowed to hurt. You made a mistake, but you're a good dad and Christopher knows that. He will come around.”

“And if he doesn't?” Eddie asked, staring over at Tommy.

“Then you keep trying,” Tommy replied. “You never stop trying. Keep being there, keep sending him letters and getting him on Facetime. Go for a visit. Send him texts. I'm not saying you gotta smother him, but never let him forget that you're there. That's the biggest mistake you could ever make.”

“Yeah,” Eddie took a deep breath. “Yeah, you're right. I just... I gotta keep it up. Let him know I'm here, whenever he's ready.”

“Exactly.”

Eddie looked over at the clock on his stove, 11:32 staring back at him. He had no idea he'd slept so long. “Why don't you call Buck, see if he wants to come over and watch a game? Then you can drive me to my car.”

“Oh, you want me to call Evan? Don't you mean fun dad?” Tommy asked, eying Eddie.

It took him a minute, but the memory came back to him. “I did say that, didn't I?”

“You did,” Tommy confirmed. “Which I'm very offended by, by the way. I'm fun!”

Eddie sighed, his head drooping down. “I know you are.”

“I introduced you to karaoke trivia. I've flown you to Vegas.”

“I remember.”

“I never tried to seriously injure you in the name of love.”

“Which I'm very grateful for.”

“I don't have control issues when I have a clipboard in my hand.”

“Are you just gonna keep listing reasons why you're fun?”

“I once shoved three cupcakes in my mouth at once! Nearly choked to death, but Evan whacked me on the back and everything went down just fine.”

Eddie stood with his mug in hand, pointing toward the living room, “I'm gonna go to the couch. Get more comfortable.”

Tommy followed behind, pulling out his phone to call Buck. “I'll let Evan tell you who bowled a 230 last week. Hint: it was me!”

[bloatedandalone04]

Don’t Ever Leave My Side

➪the one where you finally let jake take you out on a date after countless rejections, but it turns out that the guy you convinced yourself he was, isn’t who he is at all.

Warnings: smut, fluff, pda, unprotected sex, swearing, pining, oral (f receiving), jake being whipped bc i missed writing for him

Word Count: 4.7k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

You weren’t sure why you had reapplied your makeup for the third time now after deciding that it didn’t look good enough. And you opted to leave your hair how it normally looked right after a shower and to not touch it, but here you were, hastily curling it as you checked the time on your phone for the fourth time since plugging in the curling iron. 

None of it mattered at all. It was just a stupid date. One stupid date you promised Jake Seresin you’d go on with him, that was it. 

The guy had been asking you out for months now, and you’ve shut him down every time since you knew how he was with the women who frequented the Hard Deck. He was a player, in the sky and on the ground, and you wanted nothing to do with it, which is why you’ve rejected him more times than you can count on both hands. 

Yet he was persistent, the fucker. To get him to stop, you agreed to go out with him the last time you bumped into him, and that date was scheduled for tonight. In exactly four minutes, but you were planning on being late just to fuck with him, because there was no way you were going on a second date with him. No way. No.

You just finished your hair when your phone went off with a text, and you glanced down at it as you unplugged the curler and set it down on the counter. 

Jake Seresin: I’m here, gorgeous. Hope you’re prepared for tonight ;)

For some reason, reading that gave you butterflies in your stomach, and you quickly typed out a response before setting your phone down and pulling on the simple black dress you picked out for tonight.

Nice. I’m not ready yet.

The dress was tight around your torso area but got looser around your thighs, and the straps were so thin, you had to wear a strapless bra so it didn’t look dumb. The hem around your chest was lace and provided a small amount of cleavage that left nothing to the imagination, so yeah. It was very simple. 

After checking yourself a respectable three times, you slide on your ankle boots and grab your purse. 

You wondered if Jake was annoyed that you took so long to get ready since he read your text but never responded to it, but you were wrong as you opened your front door and saw him leaning against the passenger side of his truck with a stupid fucking smile on his face. “Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted as you huffed and turned to lock the door. When you made your way over to him, Jake moved out of the way and opened the passenger door for you. “You look stunning.”

“Thanks,” you drag the word out a bit as you hop up onto the seat and place your hands on your lap as he shuts the door behind you. A few seconds later, he was sitting beside you in the driver’s seat as he put the truck into drive. “Where are we going?”

Jake grinned over at you as he flicked the radio on, and some country song began playing quietly through the speakers as he answered, “It’s a surprise. Shocking, I know, but if I’m only getting one shot at this, I’m gonna do it right,”

“Great, I love surprises,” you mumbled, looking out the window before quickly looking back at him once you further processed his words. “And there’s no if, Jake. You are only getting one shot at this.”

You weren’t sure whose head you were trying to get that through at this point. 

But Jake wasn’t fazed as his grin grew. “Better make sure I don’t fuck this up then,” he said, glancing over at you. “I promise, I’ll make it count.”

He sounded so excited and he looked hot in his jeans and button up and jacket. You hated it, because you’ve seen him with other girls before, and he never put on this nice of an outfit, and he never gave them the amount of attention he’s already given you since you left your house. 

And you were even more annoyed when he pulled into a parking spot right outside your favorite Italian restaurant ten minutes later. You looked at the bright sign that said the name of the restaurant with squinted eyes before looking over at Jake. “Why are we here?”

Jake looked a bit panicked for a second as he paused mid-way through taking off his seatbelt. “Is this not…I thought this was your favorite place to eat at,” he sounded nervous now and you loosened up a bit as you took off your own seatbelt. 

“It is,” you confirmed, “But how did you know that?”

Jake looked more relaxed as he finally let his seatbelt go and opened the door. “Bird Boy told me,” he said and you groaned. 

“Damnit, Rooster,” you muttered as you grabbed your bag and reached for the handle, but Jake was already there and opening the door for you. “I’m going to yell at him the next time I see him.” You state as you get out of the truck.

Bradley was your best friend, and the guy who had witnessed a lot of your rejections to Jake firsthand. You weren’t all that surprised that he felt a little bad for the blond and helped him out with this, because your best friend was a decent guy and one of your favorite people. But you were still going to yell at him.

“Really?” Jake laughed as he placed his hand on the small of your back and led you towards the doors of the restaurant. “Because I can’t stop thanking the guy, and that’s kind of a big deal for me.”  

You huffed out a laugh in return as he guided you inside, and a few minutes later you were sitting at a booth with him with your drinks placed in front of you. Your menu was flat on the table while he held his up, his eyes flickering over the options as you subtly watched him. 

“What’s good here?” He asked, “This is my first time in this place.”

You picked up your margarita with a shrug, “Everything, from what I can tell,”

Jake glanced at you over the top of his menu, his brows furrowing as he realized that you didn’t even look at your own. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

You set your drink down and leaned back against the booth. “I know what I’m getting. I get it every time,”

Jake’s lips turned upwards at that as he set the menu down and slid his water closer to him on the table. “Oh, you’re one of those people, huh?” He asked with a smirk as he sipped a bit of the bland drink. “You don’t like, I don’t know, trying something different?”

“If it’s not broken, don’t fix it?” You offer with a raised brow as you watch him set the water back down. “You’re seriously not drinking tonight?”

He shook his head as he closed the menu and pushed both yours and his to the edge of the table. “No. I want to be sober the whole time so I can remember this night with vivid detail. I think you deserve that,”

Your face heated up as you cleared your throat, his words doing a number on you as you sat up a bit. “What are you getting?” You quickly change the subject as you felt the sudden urge to kiss the guy you’ve been avoiding for months now. 

“What are you getting?” He asked back and you narrowed your eyes as you told him your usual order. “Perfect, I’ll get that too. Maybe I’ll like it enough to order it every time I come here.”

And that was how you found yourself eating identical meals not long after, and a blush seemed to be stuck on your face as you answered every single question he had for you. Your favorite color, your favorite song, the teacher you hated most in high school, your worst dating experience, all of it.

For some reason, this wasn’t bad. This wasn’t bad at all. Talking with Jake felt easy, like you could do it all the time and never complain about it. Why was this shaping out to be kind of the perfect first date? Why was he kind of being the perfect gentleman? 

He seemed so interested in you, like how he was during the build ups to him eventually asking you out. You were beginning to feel bad about constantly saying no, because you were actually having a really good time with him. 

“Well?” You started as Jake asked for the bill. “How was it? Will you be returning just to order that every time?” You gestured to the empty plates in front of you and Jake shrugged as he took out his wallet. 

“It wasn’t bad. Your taste in food is pretty decent,” he hummed as the waitress, who had been checking Jake out the whole night and who hadn’t been looked at by him for more than a total of six seconds, placed the bill on the table. You reached for your own wallet but he stopped you and handed you his keys instead. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Wait in the truck for me, okay?”

You take the keys from him and give the waitress a soft smirk as you stand up, noticing the scowl that had formed on her face as she heard the affectionate nickname Jake gave you. 

Less than a minute later, Jake was beside you in his truck again as he backed out of the parking space with one hand. You were feeling a bit shy now as you looked over at him and took in just how handsome he actually is. “Thanks for tonight,” you say quietly as he pulls out onto the road. “It was kinda…it was fun.”

“You think it’s over?” He laughed softly as he glanced over at you in the dark truck. “I only get you to myself for one night, you really think I’m just taking you out to dinner?”

Your face heated up for the hundredth time tonight as you quickly broke eye contact. “Oh…where else are we going?”

Jake looked back at the road as he drove with one hand, and you were sure he wasn’t aware of just how hot that was. “To the place we first met,” he answered simply and your eyes widened a bit as you laughed.

“The Hard Deck?”

“Yeah,” he grinned over at you. “I have to show at least one person from work that I actually managed to get you to go out with me. And Bird Boy doesn’t count.”

You weren’t entirely sure why, but that had you smiling like a love struck teenager the whole ride, and when you arrived at the Hard Deck, you allowed Jake to lead you inside with his hand placed firmly on your hip. 

A few of his coworkers smirked at him, a few looked beyond shocked, and then there was Bradley, who avoided eye contact with you as soon as you entered the bar. Okay, so maybe you wouldn’t be yelling at him later. 

The Hard Deck was rowdy as usual, but Jake wasn’t paying attention to anyone but you, and you realized just how much you liked being the center of his attention. 

And he was completely sober as he held you in his arms as the two of you swayed to an old song playing on the jukebox. He looked content and so handsome, you had to look away as you mumbled, “Okay, so maybe this isn’t so bad after all,” and pressed the side of your face against his chest. “You kind of planned the most perfect first date, Jake. I’m actually so surprised.”

Your head vibrated a bit when he laughed and tightened his hold on you as if he was scared to let you go. “Well, when you’re determined to make someone fall head over heels for you, you’ve got to put in a bit of effort,” he said and your whole body heated up in a blush. “So, uh…does this mean there’s gonna be a second date?”

You pull back slightly and look up at him. “That depends on you,” came your quiet response as you slid your hands up his back. “You’ve been the most perfect gentleman tonight, and you’ve been so sweet, but will it be like this every time? Or was this just a show for tonight?”

Jake lifted a hand and brushed some of your hair behind your ear, his thumb stroking your cheek after. “You deserve to be treated right, and I want to be the person to do that. I want to be the perfect guy for you, Y/n. You’re special to me,” he said and sounded so genuine, you had no choice but to believe his words. “Give me a chance to show you that I’m not the stuck up ladies man you think I am. I’m falling for you…and I don’t want to mess this up.”

There it was. Jake had just put his heart on his sleeve for you, and now it was completely up to you what happened next. 

You press your lips together and look down at the wooden floor of the bar. “I was wrong about you. You’re not the player I thought you were. And honestly, I don’t care about how many women you’ve been with. The guy you’ve been tonight…it’s a different side of you, Jake. Or maybe it’s who you’ve been this whole time and I’ve just been too stubborn to see it,” you murmur and place your hands flat on his chest as you look back up at him. “The guy you are right now, I can see myself with him. With you. Tonight has been…perfect, in every single way. You’ve been perfect, Jake.”

There was your own confession that, early this morning, you would’ve never said out loud, but things had clearly changed. 

Jake smiled and leaned down to brush his lips against yours in a teasing kiss. “You haven’t seen anything yet, sweetheart,” he whispered against your mouth before pulling back to look into your eyes. “So why don’t we skip right to the part where you agree to a second date?” He asked in a deep voice as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

You laughed, looking up at him with unguarded eyes. “I think it’s safe to say you got that second date. And the third. And the fourth,” you grinned, curling your fingers around his jacket as your gaze intensified a bit. “Tell me something, does the perfect gentleman kiss on the first date? Because that teaser you just gave me wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy what I’m feeling right now.”

Jake’s smile grows before he leans down and presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss. It starts off somewhat soft, and he lets you take the lead as you kiss him a bit deeper, and then his tongue was pushing past your lips and brushing against yours. 

It was clear from the kiss that he had been holding back his desire for you for months, and you suddenly didn’t regret pushing him away so much, because it allowed you to feel every inch of his want for you with every brush of his mouth against yours. 

After a few more seconds, he breaks the kiss. “There you go,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your puffy bottom lip. “But that’s just one of many. I plan on kissing the fuck out of you on every single one of those future dates.”

A content hum leaves your lips, a feeling of excitement for the future settling in your bones as you lean up and kiss him again. Soon enough you’d become addicted. You were sure of it. 

Your fingers slide into his hair as the music continues to play and the patrons of the bar chat amongst themselves, not paying either of you any attention as you lose yourselves in each other. 

Jake’s hands grip your waist tighter, pulling your chest against his. “You’re mine now, Y/n,” he mumbled when he finally broke the kiss after a few minutes, and you held back a squeal at just how good that sounded. “I’ll make you happy, I swear it.” 

You bite down on your lip and trace the sides of his face with your fingers. “Any chance the perfect gentleman takes me to bed on the first date?” You playfully asked, but you were also very serious, even if you thought that you should probably wait to have sex. Maybe until the second date. That seemed long enough. 

“Patience, baby,” he rasped, tugging at your bottom lip with his thumb. “A perfect gentleman knows how to build anticipation.”

He tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear as you hum quietly, threading your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck as you try not to squeal again at the cute pet name. 

“Besides, I have a feeling you’re going to be worth the wait. I know it’ll be…fucking amazing between us,” he added, brushing another soft kiss to your lips. “Don’t worry, but by the end of our second date, I’ll give it to you so good, you’ll still be sore when we go on our third date.” 

You grin excitedly and nod. “It’s okay,” you whisper, “I can wait. I know that now, Jake. You’re worth the wait.”

Jake smiled down at you before kissing you one last time then taking your hand and leading you towards the bar. 

-

A couple weeks, and several dates later, you and Jake are officially together and crazy in love with each other. 

The realization that you had only pushed him away for so long because you were so into him was a tough pill to swallow, but when you finally got it down, you threw yourself headfirst into this relationship with him, and neither of you planned to look back. 

It became official shortly after the first date, where he drove you home, kissed you sweetly, then left you wanting more. By the end of the second date, Jake stayed true to his promise and fucked you so good into his mattress, you were addicted by the time the sun came up. 

You’d both been insatiable since then, which wasn’t all that surprising. The chemistry between you two had been undeniable from the start, so of course the sex was fucking amazing. 

Now, having just gotten back to his place after your eighth date, you and he can’t keep your hands off one another as you stumble through his front door, your mouths connected and your hands all over each other. 

You pull off his jacket and let it fall to the floor of the entryway while he helps you slide off your heels, your mouths meshing noisily together. He kicks the door shut before reaching down to grab the backs of your thighs, never breaking the kiss as he lifts you into his arms. He begins to walk towards his bedroom, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pulls away. “I’m gonna take you slow and deep tonight,” he mumbled against your lips. “Wanna drag it out this time.”

He was referring to the previous date, when he fucked you hard and fast into his couch while you screamed your throat raw, and the reminder of it just turned you on even more. 

Jake lays you down on his bed before standing back up and working on ridding himself of his belt. You lean back on the bed, pulling your dress off to leave you in a matching black lace lingerie set that paired sinfully well with your thigh high stockings. 

Leaning back on your elbows, you spread your thighs and beckon him to you with a curl of your finger. “Come here,”

Jake’s eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you. He’s seen you naked countless of times by now, but seeing you in something so effortlessly hot was something else, especially since he knew exactly what the black fabric was hiding from him. 

His hands reach down to pull off his belt and he shrugs off his clothes, leaving on his boxer briefs for now and showing off just how hard you made him through the thin material. 

Crawling onto the bed, he positions himself between your thighs, his lips peppering kisses along your stomach as his fingers tease the edge of your panties. “God, you’re fucking stunning,” he mumbled, running his fingers over the flimsy fabric. “Tell me, baby, were these expensive?”

You hum, looking down at him as you shrug. “A little, but not too bad,”

Jake smirked, mumbling a quick, “Good,” before he ripped the delicate fabric and tossed it aside, revealing your slick folds to his needy eyes. 

“Jake!” You gasped, your eyes widening as his big hands gripped the backs of your thighs and spread your legs a bit wider. 

“I’ll buy you more, one in every color,” he promised, grinning up at you before looking back down at your heat. He runs his fingers through your wetness, a satisfied hum leaving his mouth, “You’re so wet for me, baby. All for me.”

Then he was burying his face between your thighs, his tongue poking out to lick a stripe up your entrance before sucking on your clit. “Oh, fuck,” you whined and he groaned, sending a jolt of pleasure up your body. You shuddered, your muscles tightening as you reached down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Just like that, Jake. Feels so good.”

Jake’s tongue pressed more firmly against your clit while his fingers gathered more of your wetness before sinking knuckle-deep inside you. He fucks them in and out of you as his teeth gently nip at your sensitive bundle of nerves, and you fell back onto his pillow as he devoured you. 

The sight of you looking already so fucked out with your hair draped across his pillow had him refraining from bucking his hips against the bed, because it was something he had been dreaming about seeing for months. He was still kind of shocked that he could now see it whenever he wanted.

“Fuck,” you gasped, arching your back as he guided your legs to rest over his shoulders. Your fingers were pulling on his hair pretty hard, and he fucking loved it. He loved every single second he spent with you, and he couldn’t get enough of your sweet taste, your soft moans and the fact that you had finally, finally given him the chance he’s been craving for so long. 

You were finally his, and he was never letting you go. 

“Cum for me,” he mumbled, flicking your clit with his tongue as he curled his fingers deep inside you. “Cum all over my face, baby. Let me taste it.”

If there was one thing Jake knew how to do, it was to spew the most filthy fucking things to you. And he knew you loved it. He found that out pretty quickly the first time he took you to bed, and he was more than willing to delve into your desire for dirty talk. 

Like he suspected, your mouth parted in a loud moan as you tugged harshly on his hair, and a second later you were coming on his tongue and fingers. “Jake…holy fuck, baby,” you moaned as you writhed against his face. “Fuck…feels so fucking good.”

The taste of you on his tongue makes him groan, and he continues to ravish your pussy until you’re shaking and whimpering incoherently. Once you settled a bit, Jake lifted his head, his lips and chin soaked with your release as he grins up at you and begins to place kisses along your stomach while he pushes his boxers down. 

He hovers over you, his hands squeezing your breasts through your bra as he teases your quivering heat with the tip of his cock. “I need you, baby,” he mumbled, reaching down to grip his base as he coats himself in your arousal before slowly pushing inside you. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder as he started to slowly rock into you.

His hand moves from your chest to grip your hips as he picks up the speed a bit, his body fitting perfectly against yours with each deep thrust,

“There you go,” he rasped, kissing along your neck. “Take it all, baby, every inch.”

You moan loudly as you arch your back, and you guide his hands around you to the clasp of your bra. “Fuck, Jake, you feel so good,” you whimpered, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. 

Jake hums, expertly unclasping your bra before guiding the straps down your arms, all while keeping the pace of his thrusts. His eyes immediately lock onto your breasts, now bare to his dark eyes as they bounce with every movement. “You’re a fucking dream,” he mumbled, leaning down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples as he rocks his hips against yours. “You make me lose control, every single time.” He grunted through ragged breaths, his cock brushing against every hidden spot deep inside you. 

“Jake,” you moan desperately, guiding his mouth to yours in a messy kiss. “I love you.”

He groans, kissing you again as he feels himself close to coming already because you felt that fucking good. “I love you, too,” he rasped, his words muffled against your mouth. “So fucking much.”

You moaned, tugging on his hair as you lazily met his thrusts halfway. “I’m close,” you mumbled and he groaned in both pleasure and relief as he reached down to rub circles against your clit. 

“Me too,” he muttered, pinching and pulling at your bundle of nerves. “Cum with me, baby. Let go for me.”

A few seconds later, you were coming for a second time, but on his cock, and a couple thrusts later, he was too. He filled you up as his body shuddered, his lips pressing soft kisses to your neck as he fucked his seed deep inside you. 

Once you were both spent, he collapsed gently on top of you, keeping his cock lodged inside you as he cuddled you against his chest. “Stay with me tonight,” he begged quietly, turning you both on your sides and tucking your head under his chin. 

You smiled, nuzzling against his sweaty chest. “Where else would I be?”

Jake smiled back, pulling you impossibly closer. “What about tomorrow? Will you stay here tomorrow, too? We can have breakfast in bed,” he offered with a teasing grin on his lips. 

You hummed, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Pancakes or waffles?” You ask instead of answering him, confirming that you will be staying at his place for the remainder of the weekend. 

“Pancakes,” he replied, pulling back to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “And bacon. A fuckton of it.”

Even though this wasn’t the first time you would be spending the night in his arms, Jake still felt beyond happy that, after months of pining over you, he was given the chance to experience life with you. He was also really fucking excited to spend tomorrow morning with you in his bed. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he mumbled, holding you a bit tighter. “Wanted you.”

You go silent for a few seconds before pulling back to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” you whispered, tracing the curve of his bottom lip with your finger. “Truthfully, I didn’t think it could be this good. I was so wrong.”

Jake shakes his head, taking your hand in his and pressing a few kisses to your knuckles. “Don’t be sorry,” he said quietly. “It was worth it, all of it, if it meant we’d end up like this. Together.”

He leaned down to kiss you deeply, and you returned it instantly. “I love you,” you mumbled against his lips as you gently gripped his face. 

“I love you, too,” he said back and meant it with his whole heart as he rolled you onto your back again and settled on top of you.

Because without a doubt, his heart had been entirely yours since the second he saw you, and he knew that, he was just finally able to make you see it too.

[grunklejam]

EXCLUSIVE to the Studio Bad Eggg "BYEEE" Campaign, launching October 5th @ 1PM PST on Kickstarter

Follow the campaign

Authorised (and heavily complimented) by Alex Hirsch

8" tall, fully detailed figure

Detachable infinity mirror-design portal base with LED effect

Designed by the legendary Kyri45

Concept by Richmond Parakhen

Advised by Susa Jean

Modelled by The Last Goldfish Toys

Narrative by Jordan 'Grunkle Jam' Mooney (that's me!)

$300USD - only available by pledging on the Kickstarter campaign

Ford had heard rumours of this crazy ‘Cipher Cult’ and their love of tributing the triangular menace down in California - but never dared to think the kooks would successfully tear open space-time. Or, at the very least, pop a couple of its stitches.

With a face like thunder, he took on his ‘travelling’ clothes, and dove into the portal that fizzled and bubbled away ahead of him. Whatever happened here, he was going to put it right. Preferably for the last time.

Now, he’s here in California - carrying a belt of palismans and a somewhat perturbed young frog (he’s pretty sure his name is ‘Twig’ or ‘Leaf’ or something like that.) Armed with a collection of multi-dimensional lasers, a bag of jellybeans and all manner of glyphs astride his jacket, he’s certain that if he and Bill meet again after this, it’ll be in hell…

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine this tho:

Logan finding your journal full of things about him

found gif on @darlinggash

The moment you and Logan met the two of you clicked in an unusual way. Immediately getting on each other's nerves but having the same sense of humor. You both got grumpy and violent at times. The two of you started training together and growing as friends. There was no way in your brain that he saw you as anymore and as time passed fate proved you right.

But that didn't mean you didn't have feelings for him. Because you fell in love with Logan pretty quickly. The only reason why you were able to hide it is because you wrote about it. You wrote in detail about your feelings for him, instead of shoving them down or acting like a bumbling idiot. You trusted Logan and you were very comfortable around him. You didn't want that to change because of your feelings for him.

Logan just didn't think you felt the same way he felt that he didn't have a chance with you. That you deserved someone better than him, but he also didn't like to imagine you with anyone but him. Because he never thought he would find love. He didn't think he would find it in you but one day he just looked at you differently. He started noticing how beautiful you were, something he knew from the beginning. But it was starting to get hard to not say anything, to not kiss you. He didn't know if he could be your friend anymore.

Though he couldn't tell if you felt the same way, not until he found your notebook. Walking to your room, bringing his knuckles up to gentle rap against the open door. The door creaking open to reveal your empty room, your music playing from your speaker on your desk. A smile came over Logan's face as he stepped closer, one of Logan's favorite songs flowing through the speakers. Glancing down at the notebook on your desk in an almost bashful way as the apple of his cheeks rose. Then his eyes slightly squinted when seeing his name on the page, before moving in closer.

I feel guilty for the way I feel, I know I'm told to not be, that having feelings for a friend isn't usual. That it didn't mean have to mean anything, because there was no way he could feel the same way. He smelt like leather and tobacco, his musk filling my senses whenever he was around. Or when he touched me, that's when I felt really bad. Because I liked it for more than he knew, I didn't like being touched but I wanted this man to keep his hands on me all day. The idea was comforting, and the thought of his large muscular hands put on your body even if it was just your arm or your shoulder. You'd always lean into his touch, desperate for more. You told yourself you wouldn't get worked up, that you just be friends. But you didn't want to be his friend and it was getting harder to ignore.

Logan felt his stomach flip, swallowing down the lump in his stomach as he read something so private. Something intimate that you wrote about...someone who sounded a whole lot like him. He wasn't sure, but he knew you didn't have alot of other male friends. That he religiously wore his leather jacket even in 90-degree weather and smoked cigars like a chimney. You had sure that it had to be doing some type of damage at the rate he smoked. But talking about how made you wanted this guy to touch you, when you didn't like touch, something you warned him about in the beginning. Logan tried to respect it, but you never moved away like you did with others, you'd visibly flinch away when you didn't like it.

He leant down to keep reading from your notebook;

Last night, we stayed up late together, he'd been drinking but regardless he was still Logan. He frustrated you with because of a random that you blabbed about. Always trying to pick on you and pretend to be agitated, you hoped anyway. You always tried not to blush around him, but last night it just happened. You really hoped he didn't notice. Its why you couldn't look into his eyes, you were getting far too attached for just friends.

It was him. Logan turned the page in the notebook to continue to read.

Spending all this time with him is making me think about him subconsciously. His mossy green eyes worming their way into your dreams, fantasizing about your fingers in his hair, his hips thrusting into yours. You didn't know what he looked like down there but you knew what he looked like shirtless. God, you wanted to feel him. You felt so creepy dreaming and writing about this. But it was what happened in your dream, and it didn't help that you were in love with him.

Fuck. He really shouldn't be reading this right now. But before he could read anymore, the door creaked open and you smiled over at him, "Hey, Lo." His eyes went to your tiny little shorts you were wearing, god all of this was driving him insane. Logan couldn't let this slide though, he just had to tease you, wanted to see that blush he'd evidently missed the other night. He blamed the dim lightly, but the sun was shining bright through the window. Your eyes going to his hand that laid on the page of your journal, without him even saying a word a flush bloomed on your cheeks.

"You've been writing about me, mouse." Logan stated, he didn't even have to question it. He also made fun of your voice, when you get worked up your started to squeak a little your voice getting high pitched. His fingers dance along the lines and scribbles on the paper, circling his digit around his name.

"I-I can explain." You mumbled, your hands coming up to feign innocence.

"I think this did all the explaining I need." Logan continued, he dipped his down to read from the book, "I think I need to move on from him, but he was your best friend, and he was perfect. You think I'm perfect?" He teased as you darted towards the journal as he yanked it away from the table before bringing it up over his head. You let out a squeak as you jumped, the sound and action making him laugh at your height difference. You lightly shoved at Logan's buff chest, as he barely moved an inch as you hit at his arm.

"Give it back!" You cried, as you glared into his eyes. The look on your face warmed his heart as he shoved the journal far away from you. "H-how do you know it's about you?" Logan smiled at you, the lines on his face crinkling as he made eye contact with you before looking up at the book.

"The other day Logan stopped me from falling, and my hands gripped his bicep, I could the ridges and veins, god you were just crazy for him."

"Logan." You whined, before flipped the book shut before leaning down to hand it back to you. You snatched it from his grip, bringing it to his chest.

"Wanna know my favorite part, got it memorized, liked it so much." Logan hummed, as he stepped closer to your retreating form. You felt like prey, Logan the predator swirling in you, his eyes were dark and his steps purposeful. "His mossy green eyes worming their way into your dreams, fantas-."

"Logan pleasse stop." You pleaded, your doe eyes looking up at his as you fell back against the door as it shut behind you. Logan's hand coming over your head as he leant into you.

"-fantasizing about your fingers in his hair, his hips thrusting into yours." Logan's voice grew darker as he dipped his head into your neck, the hot air emitting from his mouth fanning over your skin. Making you shiver as one of his hands fell to your waist as his eyes dipped to meet yours. "How long have you been writing about me?"

"When did we meet?" You retorted, a anxious giggle falling from your mouth as your eyes darting away from his in shyness. Logan sighed out, his nose meeting the side of your cheekbone the scruff his beard threading to rub against your jaw.

"Well I'd like to make your fantasies come true." Logan grumbled into your ear as goosebumps rose across your neck. Your hand fell to his waist as you moved in closer to him.

"Please do." You panted, throwing caution to the wind with Logan so close and looking at you like that.

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

[knightjpg]

landslide

Ghost grits his teeth and fights it down; wrestles the images back into the coffin and puts his full weight on it. Back into the dirt. If he can repress it hard enough he won't have to feel it. He won't have to think about it other than just another nightmare. Just another bad night.

tags: ghost/reader, finding each other again after years have gone by, reader has a toxic boyfriend

chapter 1 | next

Ghost rarely sleeps well. 

Magnesium, painkillers, valerian, melatonin, passionflower—they make him sleepy and slow, but don't do much for actual rest. White noise gives him headaches; weighted blankets sleep paralysis.  

He's come to accept the ever-present dull throb behind his temple, the constant foggy weariness that only fades on his third strong cup of Earl Grey.  

It's not like he's unfamiliar with pain. Part of the job. 

But that doesn't make it hurt less. Most days Ghost feels as though his mind is a landscape fenced off with barbed live wire; do not touch. Do not go here. 

Do not trespass. 

In daylight he compartmentalises; he puts the fear and the stress and the adrenaline away in their coffins and buries them deep. It lets him keep his head level, keep his patience, keep his anger and spite to fuel his body. Keep moving.  

But in dreams the boundaries grow muddled. Memories, both false and real, mix with the present; a torrent of rain batters on his shoulders. Back into the ground. He tries to walk and finds he can't, feet stuck in the sludge. 

When he wakes he tastes the silt stuck behind his teeth. 

Years have gone by, and the scar is no longer a raw wound. It has grown new skin, thick and gnarled, though Ghost can't think about it too hard. He can't look at it— 

(the pain) 

—or it'll be real. 

“How'd that last run of sleep meds go for you?” 

Ghost shrugs. “Bad. Quit 'em after three weeks.” 

The man before him hums and scribbles something down on his notepad. “What was bad about it?” 

“Look, Jo-boy! There's uncle Simon!” 

Simon ruffles the snow out of his hair and stomps his boots on the mat again for good measure. He has to reach around the Christmas decorations to hang up his jacket; the shiny foil crinkles under his fingers. 

“Alright, Tommy?” 

Simon steps into the living room. The floorboards creak under his weight. Joseph laughs up at him and garbles, waving tiny little hands in the air. 

Beth pokes her head out from the kitchen. It smells warm. The oven hums; there's the scent of good meat, of new candles just lit. Home. 

“Simon! Oh, I'll be right there—we're almost done. Can you set the table, honey?” 

“Sure.” Tommy stands, picking up Joseph and giving him a twirl as he does. Joseph shrieks in delight. Simon smiles; he and Tommy clap each other's backs in greeting. 

While Tommy wrangles Joseph into his highchair Simon sets off for the plates. There's four of— 

Four— 

Four plates? 

Simon pauses, counts in his head. Yes, that's right. Four plates. 

The front door opens and closes again. A flash of winter wind chases through the gap. Another set of footsteps, a high voice that's not Beth's— 

Simon turns around— 

and wakes drenched in sweat. He's panting, desperate for air; a violent shiver rolls over his spine and suddenly he scrambles upward, dry heaving off the side of the bed. Nothing comes out. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, but the afterburn of three charred corpses clings to the back of his eyelids. One no bigger than Simon's arm, cradled in the arms of— 

Acrid smoke in his nose, eyes stinging with tears. 

Three—there was—there were four— 

Another dry heave. 

No. Ghost grits his teeth and fights it down; wrestles the images back into the coffin and puts his full weight on it. Back into the dirt. If he can repress it hard enough he won't have to feel it. He won't have to think about it other than just another nightmare. Just another bad night— 

“Is that the first time you've had recurring nightmares?” 

“No.” 

Ghost is looking down at his hands. He picks at a hangnail. He hates this.  

“But you did say it was different this time around, wasn't it?” 

Another shrug. 

The man in front of him taps his pen on his clipboard in thought. 

“If you're not against it I'd recommend you keep at it a little longer. That might give us a better idea of how you're reacting to it. Maybe we need to up your dose...” 

“Wine, Simon?” 

...have yourself a merry little Christmas, the radio sings. Let your heart be light... 

A glass is poured. Cutlery clinks against plates. The candle flames dance, shimmering under the sparkle of everyone dressed in their best. Joseph makes a mess on his face of spaghetti and marinara sauce; people laugh. A photo camera clicks and flashes. 

“A toast!” 

Four glasses raised to the light. The wine filters through Simon's glass like deep red petals, a ruby halo ring smattered against the surface of old wood. 

“What a shame your boyfriend couldn't make it,” Beth says. “What was his name again?” 

An answer, blurred. Simon looks down; the person on his right has slender hands. No ring. 

“More for us,” Tommy says with a wink. He looks so happy. He looks so in love. Simon feels more than anything— 

This was worth it. Everything he had to do to have this was worth it— 

“Simon?” 

Tommy's not looking at Beth anymore. He's looking at Simon, brows furrowed. His lip curls the way it does when he's worried. Why? Things are good. Things are... 

“Are you alright? Simon—” 

Simon's hand clutches at his side. A hook pierces through his flesh, glinting in the candlelight. There's wine— 

blood— 

spilling everywhere. 

“Where are you going?” Roba's voice rasps in his ear.  

“Did you think you could leave?” 

The scar on Ghost's side burns when he wakes; he grabs blindly at the nightstand for his painkillers. Swallows them dry, grimacing against the bitterness. Feeling his stomach clench and protest, sweat rising to his temples. Wine, Simon? 

He never drinks wine. Hates the stuff; prefers bourbon, whiskey. Beer on occasion. 

Ghost presses the palms of his hands against his eyes. It's not real. A dream. It's just a bloody dream. His mind is making shit up and those fucking sleeping pills have been making it worse— 

A photo camera clicks and flashes. 

Ghost breathes out through his nose, going through breathing exercises with gritted teeth and clenched hands. Relax. Fucking relax— 

“Do you want to hold him, Simon?” 

Simon wordlessly holds his hands out. Joseph blinks at him, brown bighuge eyes and a wet nose. His rosy little cheeks glow under the lights of the Christmas tree. 

Simon keeps holding him like that, hands firmly tucked under his little arms. Beth laughs a little when he doesn't move. 

“On your lap, Si, like that.” Beth gently guides Simon to cradle Joseph in his arms, tucked against his chest. Joseph reaches up and swats Simon's chin. 

“No, no, no hitting, honey,” Beth says, catching Joseph's sticky little hands. “Be nice to uncle Simon, yeah? I'll pop on the kettle.” 

Simon can't answer. Jesus, he's so small. Soft. Something catches in his throat when Joseph gurgles and yawns, sagging into Simon's hold on him. 

“She's a good person,” Tommy said when he first told Simon Beth's name. “The best kind of person.” 

Cigarette smoke curled up into the night sky. Cold out. 

“If I ever...” 

Tommy hesitated. 

“If I ever... fuck up again. You set me straight, yeah? I wanna—I'm gonna do it right. For—for myself, but also—to be someone that she...” 

“’Course,” Simon told him. 

“Thanks.” Tommy's lip curled. “You know. You're a pretty good person too.” 

Simon blinks back into the present when someone asks him, “He's so little, isn't he?” 

“Yeah,” Ghost says in his sleep, and wakes himself up. 

----------

You drain the last of your complimentary water because your hands are starting to itch for having something to do. You pointedly look away to the wall when you tip the glass; if you catch the waiter's eye by mistake again you're going to burn a hole in the ground from shame. 

You set the glass down. Tap against it. Notice, and stop. Fold your hands in your lap. Bounce your leg. Eye your phone—you've checked it every other minute since you got here and know there's no point; it's set to buzz. There's no way you'd miss a text. 

... 

You tap in your passcode and slide open the screen. It's still open on your texts: delivered, unread. 

17:34 Just got here! Are you on your way? 

17:48 Can you let me know when you leave? xx 

(1 outgoing call, missed) 

18:15 Is everything okay? I'm worried. Please text me back? 

(2 outgoing calls, missed) 

18:25 I'm really worried babe, can you please let me know you're okay? 

Another ten minutes have passed. You give the restaurant's entrance one final desperate glance, then get up and leave. You pay for the drink you felt obligated to get on your way out with a stiff smile. 

Just when you've reached the station—and have resigned yourself to an uneasy end of your night—your phone buzzes in your purse. 

You stop straight in your tracks; someone bumps into you from behind and grumbles at you as you make your apologies and squeeze yourself off to the sides of the grimy London Underground. 

“Dave?” you ask upon picking up, voice tense with stress. 

“Hey babe. Saw you called. What's up?” 

For a moment you're at a loss at what to say. The gift bag dangling in your free hand weighs a million pounds. You swallow. 

“We had a date tonight and you weren't—you weren't there. You weren't responding to my texts, and you didn't pick up, and I thought—” 

“Slow down,” Dave says. “What d’you mean we had a date? I don't remember making plans.” 

You close your eyes, begging whatever is up there looking over you for strength. “We did. Make plans. Why—where are you?” 

There's muffled laughter on the other end of the line; faint shouts, fragments of music with a fast beat. “Just out for a few drinks,” Dave says. His voice drifts; he moves away from the speaker and says something to someone else. You can't make out the words, but you can hear his tone. Nonchalant. Unassuming.  

Completely, totally relaxed. 

You stay silent. 

After a too-long pause Dave speaks up again. “Cool, guess we'll see each other next weekend?” 

“I want you to apologise.” 

Dave sighs. “C'mon, don't be so uptight. I forget a date one time and you get so fussy. I'm fine, don't be worried, just go home and sleep, yeah?” 

“This is the third time, actually—” you start to say with a tight throat. 

“Gotta go, babe. Bye!” 

The line goes dead. 

You stand there for what feels like a long time, looking down at your phone. Strangers shouldering past you in a blur.  After a few minutes a venmo notification pops up; Dave sent you twenty quid. For the dinner x. 

You cry a few silent tears on your way home on the tube. The reflection in the dark windows mocks you; a sad, pathetic little girl wearing grown-up clothes. 

What are you getting so wrong?

Is it unreasonable to expect your boyfriend to remember your anniversary? To show up when you buy tickets for a film he said he wanted to see? To be excited when you tell him about a promotion at work? 

Dave's never shouted at you. Never hit you, never called you cunt or slut or stupid little whore. It could be worse. That's just what men are like, your girlfriends say. Dave pays for your dates? He got you something for your birthday? He popped to the pharmacy when you were sick? 

You're so lucky! 

Lucky.  

You sniffle, wipe your nose on the back of your hand. You miss Beth. 

When you get home you don't bother turning on the lights. You flop onto your mattress still wearing your pretty dress—new, the snipped tags still on your desk—and close your eyes. 

Kettlebell hops up the bed moments later, and despite everything you smile a little when his whiskers tickle your cheek. “Hey, buddy,” you whisper. 

He chirps back. Another dip in the mattress signals Mim has come to give you a welcome-home sniff as well. 

You roll on your side, stroking your cats’ fur. You wish you could be petty and vindicative. Not show up next time Dave arranges an outing. Ignore him when he reaches out. Tell it to him straight—that he can be a real jerk sometimes. 

But just like all the other times you know you'll crumble when he comes over with flowers. “Movie night for two?” he'll ask with a smile. Cheesy pizza and inside jokes, falling asleep together on the couch. 

Comforting. Familiar. 

“I never asked, but these people aren't family, right?” 

You look over your shoulder from the kitchen. The microwave hums in front of you, corn popping arrhythmically against the bag. Dave is leaning over the arm of your sofa, looking at the few photos you have in your apartment while he waits. 

“Not by blood, no.” 

“You've never told me about them,” Dave says, craning his neck back. “Who are they?” 

You abandon microwave duty and move closer, perching on the sofa next to Dave. “That's Beth—next to her is her husband Tommy.” You point to a laughing, chubby baby smearing spaghetti sauce over his face. “That's their son, Joseph.” 

“Huh.” Dave cocks his head. “When was this?” 

“Long time ago. Seven—no, eight years?” The microwave beeps, and you get up to get the popcorn. “They died in a horrific accident a few months after this photo was taken. Gas leak. The explosion took out the whole apartment complex they were living in at the time; Tommy's brother, too. He was there when it happened.” 

It's long enough ago that the loss is no longer paralysing. You miss your best friend—you miss the family she'd built that welcomed you so warmly. You miss little Joseph, and you miss Tommy, too—from the moment you first met him you could tell he'd fallen head over heels for Beth. 

Who wouldn't? Young and beautiful and vibrant, filled with so much hope and dreams for the future. A dull sadness washes over you sometimes while doing the most mundane tasks. Laundry. Loading the dishes. Filling a bowl with popcorn. 

“Jesus,” Dave says. “That's awful.” 

“Yeah. I miss her every day. Miss all of them.” You put the popcorn down and look at the smiling faces in the photograph. The telly hums quietly in front of you. 

You startle when Dave suddenly claps his hands. “Alright, let's turn that frown upside down. Deadpool to the rescue.” He grabs the remote and presses play, music blasting from the speakers on cue. 

You settle in beside Dave silently. You've never cared much for action movies; prefer romance. Fantasy. Something you don't have to flinch away from—where explosions are the outlier and not background noise. 

The photo frames reflect the colours on the telly, jumping from bright white to red to white again. Illuminated in its glow, cut off at the neck at the right edge of the frame, a man holds up a glass of bourbon forever frozen in time. 

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Angel Calling

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You've formed a friendship with Brooklyn's most fearsome mob boss. But he isn't James Barnes, White Wolf, head of the Barnes Family Crime Syndicate. No. To you, he's just Bucky and he'll be there whenever you call.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky usually doesn't step in when it comes to interrogations but this one was different. Sam and Joaquin managed to find the mole in his organization. Said mole would relay any information about the workings within the Barnes Family to Hydra, sabotaging any efforts for Bucky and his family to continue to reign over Brooklyn.

So things were tense and the mole, his former lawyer, Sitwell, was slumped in a chair, bloodied and bruised.

Bucky had forgone his blazer jacket, the sleeves of his black turtleneck rolled up to his elbows. His pinky ring with his family's sigil on not was caked in blood, a mix of Sitwells and Bucky's, but mainly Sitwells.

The older man sobs, "Please, just kill me," after Bucky lands another blow to his body.

Bucky straightens up, a devilish smirk on his face, "You think I'd make it easy for you after all the shit you pulled? After how well my family and I paid you to help cover up for us? Nah, buddy. This is your own fault. You thought Hydra could save you, but you're just scum to them," Bucky punches the man again, "My family and I were generous to you and this is how you return the favor?!" Another punch to the cheek, blood dripping onto the pavement.

A shrill ringing suddenly echoes within the warehouse and Bucky glares to his men behind him. Joaquin immediately searches the pockets of Bucky's jacket. When he pulls out the phone, he turns it to his boss, "It's her, sir."

Bucky's eyes immediately softens when he sees your name on his screen. He then turns to Sitwell's unconscious body, "Saved by the bell," he murmurs.

Sam tosses Bucky a towel and gives Joaquin a nod. Joaquin accepts the call and puts you on speaker.

"Hey, angel, you okay?"

"...don't say you told me so but-"

"Your car finally die?" Bucky answers with a smirk as he wipes as much blood from his hands as possible.

"...yes."

Bucky snorts, "Where are you?"

"Literally a few blocks away from my apartment, which is the most annoying thing. It couldn't have waited to die after I got home?! Anyway, if you and your guys can help me push the car-"

"Angel, we're not pushing your car down a few blocks. I'll pick you up and have one of my tow guys get your car."

"Bucky," you give him a warning tone.

"Angel," he gives the same energy back.

"It's fine, Bucky," you try to reason with the mob boss even though you know you probably won't win. Bucky is incredibly persuasive.

"I got it handled, angel. Let me do this. I like to take care of my friends." When he says this, Joaquin and Sam give each other a look and Bucky give them a finger. The other two men snicker.

"I'll let you pay half for the repair costs," you compromise.

Bucky scoffs, "Repairs? Nah, angel, we're getting you a new car."

You sigh, and Bucky imagines you shaking your head, "We'll discuss it when you pick me up. I'll send you my location."

"Alright. I'll see you in a bit. Just wait inside your car. Lock the doors and keep that pocket knife I gave you in hand."

"Yes, sir! See you soon. Bye!"

"Bye," Bucky replies and ends the call.

Sam makes kissing noises and Joaquin laughs. Bucky rolls his eyes at the two, "Shut the fuck up." He looks over his shoulder to the still slumped, unconscious Sitwell, "Keep an eye on him. Ask him more questions if or when he wakes. I'm gonna clean up a bit more and head out."

"Sounds good. Say hi to your angel for us!" Joaquin says as Bucky heads to the bathroom to scrub off the remaining blood from his hands.

_________________________

You jolt away when you hear a knock on your window. You see Bucky standing there with a teasing smirk. You roll your eyes and open the door, "You scared me."

"You shouldn't have fallen asleep. Something could've happened to you."

"I was tired from work and you took too long!"

"It took me twenty minutes to get here, angel."

"Well that twenty minutes was the longest twenty minutes of my life!

Bucky playfully rolls his eyes and rests his hands on his hips, "Okay, we going or not? Grab your stuff. I don't want you freezing out here any longer."

You grab your work bag and purse, and hand them to Bucky. He guides you to the passenger seat of his matte black Rolls Royce. He opens the door for you and lets you slip into the car. He hands you your stuff and then shuts the door.

He swiftly goes to the driver's side, getting into the car and starting it. He cranks the heat up all the way. He saw you shivering in your car. As the heat spreads throughout the vehicle, your shivering decreases.

You look to Bucky in appreciation, "Thanks for getting me. No one else was answering since it's late."

He quickly glances at you with a soft grin, "I'll always answer when you call, angel."

A warmth spreads through your chest and you know it's not from the car's heater.

The car ride is short since you only live down the next few blocks. Bucky parks on the street and immediately rushes to your side to help you out of the car. He grabs your bags and follows you to the front door where you punch in your code and the door swings open.

"Come up with me so I can bandage your hands," you point to his right knuckles that are covered in cuts.

"I'll be fine."

"Then at least have a drink with me and we can talk about a new car."

A grin appears on Bucky's face, "I'll humor you into thinking I'm going to let you pay for any portion of your new car."

"I'm not easily swayed, Barnes."

"Don't I know it," Bucky replies as he follows you into the building and towards the elevator. You stand beside each other as the lift reaches to the fifth floor.

In a comfortable silence, Bucky follows you to your apartment. As soon as the door opens, your cat, Willow, gives you scolding meows since it's passed her feeding time.

"I know, honey. I know, I'm sorry!" you rush to grab her food and scoop it into her feeding bowl. She happily scarfs down her food as Bucky bends down, giving soft pets to your cat.

"She's so cute."

"She's a menace, but I love her," you say as you head to the kitchen, "Beer or whiskey?"

"Beer, please!"

You grab a bottle from the fridge and fill a glass of water for yourself. You hand Bucky the bottle as he plops onto your couch.

"So, for the car, I don't need anything fancy or super expensive. Literally just a normal car that runs, has good mileage, and doesn't require a shit ton of gas."

Bucky chuckles as he opens the beer bottle with his metal prosthetic, "I'll take you to a few dealerships tomorrow. You don't work on Thursdays, right?"

You look at him in surprise, "Yeah...you remember my schedule?"

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, "Just in case," he mumbles, sipping from his beer.

"Anyway, yeah, I think it's best you come with me to the dealership anyway. Because sales people will try to get one over me because I'm a woman," you roll your eyes in annoyance.

"Well, all the local places know me so they'll know not to give you a shit deal."

"Sweet," you say in excitement.

Willow, done with her meal, hops onto the couch and onto Bucky's lap. She sniffs him and looks up at him expectantly, giving him a meow.

"She wants you to pet her," you translate for him.

He chuckles, "Well how can I say no to an adorable face like that?" he says, scratching Willow behind the ear, which she loves. She leans into his touch and it melts Bucky's heart.

You snicker, "If only your friends could see you now."

"If you tell any of them this, I will deny everything."

You laugh, "Don't want everyone to know what an absolute softie you are. Bucky?"

"I'm only like this when it comes to you, angel," he says.

"Hmm," is all you respond with. You turn away from Bucky and the air shifts.

Bucky gently picks up Willow up and places her on the floor. He turns his body towards you, "I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"You're so confusing, Bucky."

"Huh?"

"Or maybe I'm just stupid. Or both. I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

You let out a deep breath and turn your body to face him, "One moment, I think you're flirting with me and it seems like you like me. But then the next, you keep mentioning how we're friends and you like to treat your friends a certain a way. I just-I dunno. It's hard to process how I'm feeling with how your actions and your words don't match up."

It's true. Bucky has been holding himself back. He does like you. He really does, but he's also scared. You're a civilian, a completely normal person. Whereas he was born and raised in a prominent crime family. He leads a dangerous life and he's scared to get you involved in his shit. But he also loves spending time with you and talking to you, it makes him feel normal.

Bucky runs his fingers through his shoulder length dark brown hair, "You're right. I haven't been very clear on where I stand in this...thing between us. The truth is...I like you. A whole lot, angel. I didn't expect for things to go this way. I didn't expect you to stick around after finding out who I really was, but it's nice being with you. In my crazy hectic world, everything is so loud and busy. But when you, I feel peace and there's silence.

"Truth is, angel, I've fallen for you. I just don't want you to get caught up in my shit. But I also can't seem to stay away from you."

You scoot closer to him, placing your hand on top of his metal one, "I really like you too, Bucky. And I understand where you're coming from. I'll admit that what you do is scary to me, but I also trust you enough to keep me safe."

"So...do you wanna try this out?"

You nod, "Yeah. I do."

"Great," he says breathlessly, eyes darting to your lips, "Can I-"

"Please," you mumble before pressing your lips to his.

_________________________

Bucky holds a gun to the man's head, a deadpan expression on his face as the man begs for his life.

"I swear, it was only the one time! I-" his words get cut off as Bucky's phone rings. Bucky looks over his shoulder to see Sam holding up his phone. A picture of you and "My Angel" on the screen. A grin breaks out onto Bucky's face.

He turns to the man, "Enough of this," he pulls the trigger, the man falling back onto the pavement with a bullet in his head.

Bucky walks over to Sam, trading the gun for his phone, "Hello, my beautiful angel."

You giggle, "Hey, Big Man. Just making sure you're coming over for dinner right?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be coming over in an hour and I can help you cook."

"You don't have to help, Bucky."

"I want to."

"Softie."

"Only for you," he replies with a soft grin.

"Alright. I'm gonna start prepping. Say hi to the guys for me. Bye!"

"Will do. See you soon. Bye!"

When Bucky ends the call, he points a finger at Sam and Joaquin, "Not a word!"

The two men laugh as Bucky walks away. He's ready to spend the rest of his night with you, his angel.

[pretentious-blonde]

meet the parents

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve didn't expect things to go smoothly when he introduced you to his parents, but nothing could have prepared him for the rage he felt when they turned their comments towards you

warnings: family drama, alcohol, steve feeling inadequate, steve's father sucks here

a/n: idk if i like how this turned out, but I tried my best

You tugged at the hem of your dress, giving your outfit a once over in the mirror for the last time. You had spent ages rummaging through your wardrobe before you found this one, it’s simple but elegant—enough to make a good impression on Steve’s parents. Whom you were meeting for the first time, tonight. 

They had been nagging him since they returned from their trip, one of many, wanting to meet the girl who he had been seeing in their absence. They insisted on inviting you over for dinner, and based on Steve’s reaction, you knew how much this meant to him. You wanted to look your best. 

The knock on your front door pulls you away from your thoughts. You quickly grab your jacket and scurry down the stairs, slipping your feet into a pair of shoes as you go to greet him. 

He is standing on your front porch, hands buried deep in his pockets as he rocks back on his heels. He reverts his attention to the sound of the door opening. His breath catches in his throat as he drinks in the sight of you, his previous nerves are momentarily replaced with awe at your appearance. God, you looked angelic. 

The world seems to still as he unapologetically stares. The gentle curve of a nervous smile on your lips, the dress hugging your figure just right—it takes a great deal of strength on his behalf not to call the whole thing off. To whisk you away for the evening all to himself, leaving his parents to dine alone. He swallows hard as he composes himself, running a hand through his hair as a lopsided grin graces his features. 

“Honey, you…wow.” He begins, any words that entered his mind seemed unable to articulate how beautiful you looked tonight. “You look amazing.”

A blush creeps up your neck at the compliment, it’s endearing how he still gets tongue-tied around you. “Thanks. Thought I should put in a little effort.”

His fingers twitch at his sides as he faces another dilemma. Wanting to reach out and pull you close, push you back inside and be selfish, but he shoves them deeper into his pockets instead. The anxiety he was feeling about the night ahead was overwhelming, he was dreading it—dreading the way his father would most likely find something to dig at, something to put him down. 

But looking at you now, all dolled up for his sake, he hates it even more. 

He hates that you put effort in for this, when it could have gone to something so much more worthwhile. It was the story of his life, trying so hard time and time again to get their approval, only to be shot down over and over again. He didn’t want to subject you to that. 

The drive there is strangely quiet, except for the faint hum of the radio station that fills the car. His grip on the steering wheel is tighter than it usually was, his eyes trained on the road ahead. His thoughts, however, were miles away. Questions filled his mind about what could happen. What they could say to you. If they made you uncomfortable. Each one was worse than the last, the stress made his chest tighten. 

He brushes them off. How could they not love you like he did? When you’re sitting all pretty beside him, looking so damn perfect. In every way that he is not. 

“You seem quiet,” you say, trying to break the silence. “So, are your parents like, super strict or something?”

He chuckles, but it’s nervous. He has told you bits and pieces about what his family is like. Constant business trips that his mother insisted on tagging along to, holidays without him, calling a few times throughout the week. He had failed to mention how much of a dick his dad could be, especially after a couple drinks. 

“Nah, I mean, they’re not…strict.” His fingers tap anxiously on the steering wheel. “They’re old-fashioned. Like, ‘everything has to be perfect’ kind of way, you know?”

You nod along slowly, mood still playful, not quite picking up on the nerves flowing through the boy next to you. “Damn, I should have brought something, or even baked, huh?”

He laughs now, but the tension still remains in his shoulders. “Honestly, you might be their favourite person after tonight if you did that. I’m pretty sure they like you more than me.”

Your expression falters slightly at that, smile dropping as you reach over to squeeze his hand. “Steve, come on. There is no way that’s true.”

He doesn’t respond, keeping his eyes forward. 

She has no idea.

“Well, if they don’t like me, I’ll get them with my dazzling personality. You fell for it, right?”

That earns you a genuine smile. Yes, he fell for it. He fell damn hard and welcomed it fully. That is why he loathed the idea of bringing you home. Of subjecting you to this dinner. 

“Yeah, you got me good, angel.” He squeezes your hand back. “Hook, line, and sinker.”

His raw honesty renders you silent for a few moments, turning your face to the view outside to hide the flush in your cheeks. He always knew how to do that. Say something so nonchalant that made your knees weak. 

“Just a heads up,” he glances over to you briefly, hand still resting in his as you pull into the driveway of his home. “Just if they say anything…weird, don’t take it seriously.”

“Steve,” you pull your hand away to cup his face, big, brown eyes staring back at you as you reassure him. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

He wants to believe you. He wants to believe you so badly, but the feeling in his stomach only tightens more. In truth, he has no idea how this evening will go. And that terrifies him. 

Steve rounds the car to open your door, holding onto your waist as you head up the stairs to the entrance. He opened the door quietly, stepping aside to let you in. He pauses to take a look at you one last time, almost melting at how the entryway light falls over your face, illuminating your tender smile. He quickly moves to help you with your coat, sliding it off your figure with gentle movements and hanging it on the rack. 

“Shoes too,” he whispers, almost apologetic, his hand gently guiding your gaze toward the carpeted floor.

He had never asked you that before. You raise a brow, amused but willing to comply. “I didn’t realize there was a dress code,” you tease lightly, holding his shoulder and slipping out of your shoes.

He chuckles nervously. “Yeah, just… don’t want you getting into trouble.”

You scrunch your nose at him and smile, but there is something else brewing behind those eyes of his—worry perhaps? You just chalk it up to innocent nerves. I mean, who wouldn’t be slightly anxious to introduce their partner to their parents?

Leading you down the hall, you are greeted with the smell of roast chicken wafting from the kitchen. It’s surprisingly homey, comforting. Tonight might not be so bad after all. 

You step into the dining room, just opposite the open plan kitchen, first locking eyes with Steve’s mother. She gives you a warm smile, which you return. She looks just like him, same eyes, same smile, same kind expression that he always gives you. Her hands are busy on the stove but still when you enter. 

“Oh, you must be Steve’s girlfriend!” She says, her voice cheerful as she wipes her hands on a rogue teatowel. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

“Thank you so much for having me,” beaming as you step forward, leaving Steve’s side for a second. “Everything smells amazing.”

Steve’s dad makes himself known, giving you a curt nod. He sits at the head of the table, relaxed with a beer in his hand which Steve spots immediately. “Glad you could make it,” he tells you, his voice low, but not unkind—for now at least. 

Steve returns to your side once more, a hand on the small of your back, gently guiding you to a seat at the table. This is good, he thinks, allowing a small flicker of hope to spark in his chest. You’re being your usual polite self, and so far, his parents seem…normal. He feels relaxed as his mother places the perfectly roast chicken at the centre of the table, letting out a small breath as he sits down. 

“Oh my gosh,” you exclaim, your face lighting up at the spread. “I love a roast! It’s been so long since I’ve had one.”

His mother blushes, clearly pleased by your praise. “Well, I’m glad to hear it! There is plenty here so please, help yourself.” 

You nod as you pick up the plate of potatoes, Steve picking up the greens, locking eyes as you swap them over. You are pleasantly surprised to see his expression, no longer sour with anxiety. 

“Bet it’s nice to have a home-cooked meal, huh?” Steve’s father takes a swig from his drink before gesturing to the boy at your side. “Kid barely knows how to boil water.”

He lets out a large laugh at his joke, oblivious to the way Steve pauses as he sets down the plate. He forces out a laugh as well, trying to shake it off, but he can’t deny how the joke stings. Especially when it was made in front of you. 

“I mean, I can handle the basics,” he chimes in, trying to defend himself as much as he can without insulting his father. “Eggs, pasta…” He trails off. 

You allow your gaze to wander over to him, your smile faltering as you catch the hurt look in his eyes. His father doesn’t seem to notice—or care at all, really. 

He can cook, he thinks as his eyes are trained on his father. He has cooked for you so many times, and you always said how good it was. The first moment you complimented his food he made it his mission to do it more often. It was something he took pride in. He had to teach himself after all, it’s not like they were ever around to do it, and he couldn’t just live off takeaway pizzas every night. 

He never was in the kitchen when they returned home, his mother always took the reigns there. His jaw tightens as he recalls the countless dinners made alone in his house, too used to the silence that always followed his parents’ absence. 

You set the fork down to the side of your place and turn to him, giving him a look of reassurance that does little to help him. You don’t speak up, but the mix of emotions in your expression makes Steve’s heart lurch. He should have said something, warned you more. Or better yet, come up with an excuse as to why you couldn’t make it tonight. 

His mother was equally as oblivious to the exchange as she carved off another piece of chicken. He doesn’t really care about what his family says about him, he has dealt with much much worse. But it still stings. It stings because it is in front of you. 

The conversation flows well as you all settle into the meal. The chicken was undeniably delicious, the familiar setting of the Harrington house helped soothe you as you chatted politely with is mother. 

“So, what is it you do?” She asks you, tone genuinely curious. 

You finish chewing, wiping your mouth with a napkin before you respond. “I just finished college actually. And I recently got an editing job at the local newspaper. It’s helped me get my first apartment too, so it’s a pretty exciting time.”

Steve can’t help but sit up a little straighter as you speak, his chest filling with a sense of pride that this is the woman he is introducing his folks to. 

That’s my girl, my smart girl.

“Well, isn’t that wonderful!” His mother says, clearly impressed. “You must be so proud of yourself.”

Steve smiled at the knowledge that they approved of you. They might not have approved of him, they made that clearly known whenever they had the chance, but seeing how impressed they were with you—that was enough. He reached across the table, taking your hand in his own and admiring how they looked intertwined in the glow of the dining room. His thumb strokes your knuckles, feeling a smug satisfaction rise up inside of him. You’re smart, capable independent. Everything Steve’s parents valued in a person. He might not be what they wanted him to be but he somehow had you to show for it. He was damn lucky to have you here with him. 

A voice cuts through the warmth he was feeling, a sharp edge bringing him down from his high. “Well, good for you,” his father said, his eyes drifting to your hands. His gaze was cold, calculating. “You know, I’ve always said people with drive go far. Funny how some manage to make it whilst others…don’t.” He gasts a glance at Steve, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm, the same voice that had followed him his whole life. “Guess you lucked out, huh, son? Dating someone with actual ambition.”

The comment hit Steve harder than he cared to admit, the jovial tone from his father did little to soften the blow. His chest tightens as he feels the sting of disappointment, but he can’t help but take the words on board. You are ambitious, you have the whole world at your fingertips. You could do anything you set your mind to and he knew that. He just hoped that when that time came, he would be lucky enough to be cheering you on from the sidelines. 

“Yeah, well,” he begins with a crooked grin. “Guess I’ve got the charm at least.”

The shift in his mood is noticeable to you, you can read him like the back of your hand, the way his smile remains on his face for just a second too long. His father's words were not just a joke, not to Steve. He always doubted himself and his abilities, worried about where he would go in his life. But at the end of the day you were there to support him, whatever decisions he made were his and his alone. 

He tells himself that it’s fine, that he can handle it. Just as long as they don’t go after you, he can take it. He has no problem being the martyr, he has been the punching bag for years and has no problem taking a few more hits.

The way he looks down at his plate makes your chest ache, the way that he acts like this isn’t a big deal. It’s obvious how much it bothers him, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. It hurts you to see him like this—reduced to a quiet, tense version of himself, happy to just keep the peace. 

The clink of silverware continued against the plates as the conversation flowed, finishing up the remainder of dinner, the beer in Steve’s father's glass also gone. He leaned back in his chair, the same look in his eyes that Steve was familiar with, inhibitions mellowed and ready to bite. His eyes narrowed as he observed the both of you, amusement dancing in his gaze like he found the perfect moment to strike. 

“Let me guess,” he began, wiping the edge of his mouth with a napkin before tossing it carelessly onto the table in front. “You’re with Steve because you think you can change him, right? Girls like you always think they can fix a guy like him.”

Steve stiffened beside you, his stomach twisting into a tight knot. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words caught in his throat. For a moment, he felt like a kid again, being told off for something he had no control over. Something he couldn’t change. 

Before he even had time to fully process the insult, you were there. Your tone fast, steady, unfazed. There was no way you would sit there and let that comment go. Not when it was the furthest thing from the truth. 

“I’m not here to change Steve,” you said, your tone calm but resolute. “I’m with him because I love who he already is.”

His heart fluttered in his chest at your words—the way you spoke them. With such unwavering conviction that there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that you meant them. 

His father raised a brow, leaning forward in his chair, sizing you up and clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. The act revolted you. You were done with playing nice, you were not going to let him insult you or the one you love. It didn’t matter if they were family. 

“Love, huh?” He scoffed. “That’s cute. But, sweetheart, love doesn’t pay the bills. Steve is not exactly rolling in success here, is he?”

You don’t flinch, not even a little. “I don’t need him to be rolling in anything. He works hard and is more successful than you give him credit for.”

His father barked out a humourous laugh, nowhere near close to finished. “Kind? I’ll give you that. But I’m just saying, girls like you—smart, career-driven, their own place—usually go for someone with a little more ambition.”

You narrowed your eyes at the older man, keeping your voice collected. “Ambition isn’t about titles or money. Steve has plenty of it. He has been through things you couldn’t even understand.”

The tension that settled over the room was tense as you locked eyes. Steve’s mother stared at her husband, you wonder if she wished to say something, or if she also was too scared to challenge the older gentleman. You felt no fear, not when it came to conflict over those you care for. You wouldn’t back down. The more you spoke, the more Steve felt that old, crushing weight of his father’s judgement start to lift from his shoulders. 

“Look,” his father said, not enjoying the pushback. “I’m just telling you what I know. Guys like Steve—they’re nice, sure—but they don’t get you very far. Eventually, you’ll want more, and you’ll leave him just like the last one.’

That one hit hard. Too hard. Steve’s hand clenched under the table, unwanted memories of his past relationship springing to the surface, reopening old wounds. He wanted to make a joke. Wanted to say anything that would get away from this topic. His father noticed how withdrawn he got after Nancy, and now he was throwing it back in his face. He didn’t like weakness, and Steve had never felt more inadequate when that happened. 

“Actually, I’m more than happy with Steve,” you say effortlessly, voice low and confident. “He is one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. I don’t need to ‘want more’ when I already have everything I could ask for.”

His father’s eyes flickered with something—surprise perhaps? He certainly wasn’t used to being challenged like this, feeling at a loss that his tactics weren’t working. He took it as a sign to cut deeper, harsher. He needed to get the upper hand once more. 

His lips curled into a smirk, one that Steve had seen a thousand times before, the one that always made him feel like he was on the losing end of an argument before it even began.

“Are you really gonna let your woman talk to me like this?” His voice heavy and patronising as he stared Steve down. “That’s what you’re doing now? Letting a girl fight your battles?”

Absolutely not. No fucking way. 

Everything was still, you could hear a pin drop in the room. Steve’s anxiety turned to full-on rage, seeping through every vein in his body as he looked at his father. He didn’t care what he said to him, but the vile way he spoke of you was unacceptable. Something in him snapped at that moment. 

“No,” he said, voice holding unwavering clarity. His father looked shocked, not expecting such a firm response from his son.

“No?” His father echoed, leaning forward slightly, trying to intimidate him. “Finally found your voice huh? Took you long enough.”

“No,” Steve repeated with finality. You glanced over and saw the muscles in his jaw tightening as he met his father’s gaze. “What I’m not gonna do is let you disrespect her like that.”

“Disrespect?” His father scoffed, shaking his head, acting as though he knew better. Like he was better. “I’m just telling it like it is. Someone has to, or you’ll go on thinking you’ve actually done something with your life.”

“I don’t need you to tell me how much of a fuckup I am, okay?” Steve shot back, heart pounding in his chest. “I got the message.”

He looks in your direction, eyes softening slightly as he takes in your expression. It held something his father had never directed at him. Pride. You looked proud of him. And that thought alone stirred him on. 

“What I’m not gonna do is allow you to talk to her like that,” He returns his attention to his father, his finger pointing in your direction. “Not when you don’t know a damn thing about her.”

His father bristled at the insubordination, the condescension in his voice was thick. “I know enough,” he said matter-of-factly. “I know she’s playing house with a guy who peaked in high school. How long till she figures that one out, hm?”

Steve’s blood spiked, now more willing than ever to fight back against his father. He had been pushed around for years, if there was any time to rebel, it would be now. “You don’t know anything about us! You’re hardly here!”

His father leaned back, smug. “I know enough about you, Steve. I know you’ve been coasting. First, it was basketball, then this lousy job at the video store—hell—you’re lucky someone even gave you the time of day. A girl like her? She’s going to wake up and realise you’ve got nothing to offer.”

Steve swallowed hard at that moment, his father’s words were getting to him, digging into his skin and refusing to let go. It was beginning to break him, like so many times previously. He was ready to back down, let him say his piece and be done with it. 

That was until he felt a gentle hand on his leg. One that softly ran its fingers against the denim of his jeans. He stared at it. As its presence. He felt the warmth within your touch, reigniting the fire he never thought lit. 

“You’re wrong,” he said quietly, voice cracking slightly but he pushed on. “She is not like that. You say she’s smart? You have no idea. I trust there is a reason she is with me. She sees who I am, something you have never been able to do.”

His father’s eyes flickered with something that resembled surprise, but he quickly masked it with a cold look. “So, what? You think this tantrum is going to change anything? These are facts.  You’ve always been weak, Steve. That’s why you’ll never—”

“No,” Steve cut him off, using the same word he had been repeating for this conversation, filled with a conviction that startled even himself. “I’m not weak. I’m done letting you make me feel like I am.”

The room went still, the sharpness in Steve’s voice hanging in the air that nobody was accustomed to. His father opened his mouth to respond, but Steve didn’t give him the chance.

“I’m not you. If I was she never would have looked at me twice, and I’m damn proud of that.”

Your exit was swift. Steve grabbed your hand and dragged you to the front door, leaving both of his parents in a state of shock. You just about managed to slip your feet into your shoes as he grabbed your coat to the side of your head. Slamming the door loudly as you left. 

The night air was cold, helping in soothing his raging anger, letting a breath out before he turned to you, stare softening with affection. He turned to face you, touching your cheek with such tenderness as he searched your eyes, trying to figure out how you were feeling. 

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, running his thumb along your cheekbone. 

“I’m alright,” you assured him, leaning into his touch. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I—wow,” he was still jittery, letting out a shaky laugh and running a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I said all that.”

“I can,” you said as you gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m really proud of you.”

His expression was gentle, grateful to actually hear the words that had been denied for so many years. There was another emotion within him as well, a sense of awe. The way you handled yourself with grace, not bending under pressure. He swore he was already head over heels for you, but after tonight? He fell for you a just little bit harder. He shakes his head at your previous compliment. 

“You were amazing in there, sweetheart,” a crooked smile forming. “God, you’re something you know that?”

You smiled as you allowed him to lead you to his car, arm resting on your back as he opened the door for you. He slipped into the driver's seat and started the ignition, fingers drumming on the steerwheel as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I don’t think I can go back there. Like, ever.”

“Yeah, I kind of got that,” you say as you nudge him playfully. “Guess I’m gonna have to move you in, huh?”

He glanced at you as he pulled away from his childhood home, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Is that so?”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, pleased that he was making jokes instead of spiralling. The comfortable silence that filled the car was peaceful, but his expression shifted, something tentative, serious settled over him. 

“We could, you know.”

You blinked at his proposition. “What?”

He cleared his throat and immediately regretted saying anything. His nerves now spiking at his confession. It was too late to back out now, the words that spilt from his mouth flowed without thought. 

“I mean,” he started, knuckles turning white as his grip tightened. “I may work retail, but I definitely make enough to rent an apartment. I could contribute, really. I could…”

He trailed off, watching your reaction carefully. There was a sincerity in his words that made your heart melt.

“I mean, I’m not gonna be mad about halving the rent,” you said with a blush forming on your face at the thought of living with him. Of waking up with him, coming home to him. For all of your belongings being mingled together. For everywhere you look his presence is there with you. 

His face broke out into the softest, most boyish smile you had ever seen on him. “You mean it?” He uttered, voice quiet, as if he may have misheard you. 

“Yes, Steve,” you brush a hand through his hair, so in love with the sweet boy next to you. “I mean it.”

[reshinless]

kinich refuses to put cake on your face in your wedding day

even before back when you still were just boyfriend, girlfriend, the evening he decided to propose; under a stellar night sky, "look a shooting star! quick, make a wish!" you quickly pointed out to the dark azure stratosphere.

"..."

"..did you wish?"

"yeah."

"well then, what was it!!"

"if i tell it now, it won't come true. isn't that what you said?"

"aww c'mon! i'm curious now!"

the tradition of putting cake onto your partner's face never appealed to him. he thought it was rude. he didn't wanna dirty the face he found the prettiest.

so the best he'd do is the smallest bit of icing on the tip of your nose, then put the rest of it in your mouth and lets you do the same.

he knew tonight was a cold night out as well, and gave you the jacket of his suit.

he knew how long it took to do your makeup, so he didn't wanna ruin it.

the cake tradition i'm taking about here usually refers to how your partner will take care of you, in sickness and in health, but when they smash it, it means they won't. so in the most respectful way possible, he didn't wanna disresepct you!

yeah he did his research, its his partner we're talking about. as much as he is blunt, he's quiet because most of the time he's busy paying attention to your likes.

did you notice how the cake was your favorite? did you notice it was your favorite flowers that he put up at every curtain? did you notice it was mixed with his and your culture when it came to traditions as well?

"you feel any better?" is all he says while watching you admire the scenery from a balcony. the venue was up in a tree, and all you wanted to do was admire what felt like a dream below you.

"can i know what you wished for on that day you proposed to me on?" you look over to your now husband.

"i wished for you to accept my proposal, and spend my life with you."

[avcdgrdn]

what if the OG mystery trio was born in 1997 instead of the 50's? welcome to my very self-indulgent AU:

[ explanation & more info below cut 😏 ] ↓ ↓ ↓

my fancy lil' name for the AU is RWFF [ rewind, fast forward ]

having been born at the very beginning of gen Z, this puts the trio at around 27 years old present day! it's a modern AU with a little bit of seasoning to it ...

no bill cipher [ let my boys be happy & un-traumatized ]

by 2014: the machine incident still happens, but stan never gets disowned: he apologizes, ford forgives him & stands up for him when his father gets mad. this allows stan to stay in the house, and he never sets out on his own.

staying true to canon, ford attends backupsmore, meets fiddleford, and does like a crap ton of PHDs until he receives the massive grant that allows him to explore gravity falls. however, since he never meets bill cipher, he never delves into the portal project. instead, he finds massive success with all of his other paranormal discoveries and ingenious inventions [ COUGH filthy rich COUGH ]

all throughout his studies, ford would often contact fiddleford for assistance on random projects. they hung out a lot for sure and got super close :)

meanwhile, stanley's chillin & working with a car repair shop back in new jersey. thanks to ford, his family is really well off, so he doesn't necessarily urgently need to provide for himself. he takes an interest in cars, so he loves his job. he keeps in touch with his twin almost every day [ we love smartphones ]

by 2024: having found such good success in gravity falls, ford remembers his twin brother & extends the invitation for stan to move in with him so that they can work on the stan-o-war together, which he readily accepts. :D

present day: stan & ford are living together in gravity falls & working on the stan-o-war. [ basically what the canon timeline twins end up doing after many more years ]

fiddleford often comes to visit, either for a scientific project or just to chill with the twins. he's also a successful inventor, just in a different font [ he for sure has that manor fr 🤑 ]

the beauty of this being present day is the aesthetics:

ford heavily identifies with the classic academia aesthetic

fidds takes on a 70's artsy-fartsy hippie granola guy aesthetic [ septum piercing & tattoos fidds pls save me ]

stan sticks to street fashion/racer jackets for suuure. he's thinking about getting into motorcycles... he heard that chicks really dig that nowadays.

so like ........ yeah 🕺

who would you date first please lmk 😘