#burgundy sweatshirt

[bajillionblunts]

Earl Sweatshirt- Burgundy (Slowed)

[stylesloveclub]

sunshine (epilogue)

In which Harry's still grumpy, except for when he's with his sunshine girl.

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“How was it?” Maddie asks y/n, sitting in the driver’s seat of her beat up red Toyota Corolla. The engine is running as y/n climbs into the passengers side, carelessly throwing her backpack in the backseat and buckling herself up. 

“I don’t want to think about integrals ever again,” y/n responds. She’s just gotten out of her calc midterm, and she feels horrible and miserable and exhausted. Although she’d promised herself to go to sleep early last night so that she’d be alert and prepared for her exam… she actually hadn’t fallen asleep until 4 AM. She’d been twisting and turning in her bed, flipping her pillows and trying to lull herself to sleep all night, unsuccessfully. 

Thankfully the class wasn’t until noon, so she was still able to get at least five-ish hours of sleep. But she still woke up feeling like shit. Her heart had been pounding nervously all morning, and she hadn’t been able to get any food down except for three sips of some coffee she made for herself in the morning. She didn’t put any makeup on as she left for campus, only a pair of sweats and a burgundy sweatshirt… Harry’s burgundy sweatshirt. The one he’d given to her in the car when he’d driven her home. 

Now, she has a reason for wearing it! You see… it still smelled like him. And y/n somehow convinced herself that by wearing Harry’s sweatshirt (the sweatshirt that smelled like him!) she might be able to…  absorb some of his math skills? And do better on her midterm? 

She’s pulling at straws here. She still feels like she failed it. 

“Listen…” Maddie says, pulling out of the parking lot. “I need to go over to Blake’s, I left my makeup bag in his bathroom and then we’re gonna go out for lunch.”

“Okay,” y/n mumbles, not caring. She closes her eyes to try and soothe the pounding in her head. She’s gonna nap as soon as she gets into her bed. 

“Do you want me to drop you off at home first? Or… did you want to come and see Harry?” 

Y/n’s eyes flutter open. Harry. 

Maddie looks over at y/n knowingly. Y/n turns bashful. “Yeah, I’ll come and see Harry.”

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Harry looks like he’s just woken up when he opens his bedroom door for y/n.

His eyes are puffy and his curls are flat and messy. A smile immediately spreads on his face when he sees it’s y/n.

“Hey.” His voice is deep and raspy, and it’s probably the first word he’s said all day. 

“Hi,” she says, twisting her hands in the sleeves of her sweatshirt. No– his sweatshirt. 

Oh. Oops.

Harry smiles down at the burgundy sweatshirt that’s swallowed y/n’s body. 

“I– I wore it so that I could return it,” she stammers. A lie! Harry sees right through it, and finds his smirk growing even wider. 

“I like it on you,” he grins. She grows shy under his gaze, heart bubbling with that familiar feeling. The feeling of a crush. “How was the midterm?” he asks, closing the door behind himself and y/n.

He lays back down in his bed, the way he’d previously been before y/n came knocking on his door, and y/n sits down next to him. “I dunno,” she shrugs. Her eyes are downcast and dull, lacking the happy sparkle he usually searches for whenever he’s in her presence.

“I’m sure you did okay,” he says, resting a reassuring hand on her knee. “At least it’s over now!”

She nods. A certain weight had been lifted from her chest as she walked out of that lecture hall. No more studying integrals and derivatives for hours straight…

“There was this one problem,” y/n can’t help but say. “It was like… ln(x) to the power of two…”

“Do you want to write it out?” Harry asks. He knows that y/n probably won’t be able to let this midterm go until she gets all of her questions out of the way. 

With a pen and paper in hand, she messily writes the problem out, the paper tearing a little bit when she presses down too hard. “It was ln(x)^2… and i split it into ln(x)*ln(x). That’s allowed right?”

Harry nods, “Mhm. That’s what I would’ve done too. What next?”

“Um… I did a U-sub. I don’t know if that’s right though… I was running out of time and just did something so that I could get at least partial credit.” 

“A u-sub is right,” he grins.

“Really?” She blinks with wide eyes as he nods. “So… wait– tell me if I did the rest of it right.” She messily writes down what she remembers putting down on the test, then gives the paper to Harry. 

“S’good,” his dimple pops out as he smiles up at her, “It’s all right. And you didn’t forget the +C, good job!” 

“No way!” she exclaims, disbelievingly. Her hands land on Harry’s chest as she giggles triumphantly, “No freaking way I did it right! I thought I was just making math up! Oh my gosh!”

“Told you,” he laughs along with her, holding the hand that she rested on his chest. “Stop stressing out, sunshine. You studied, and now you’re done!”

There’s that name again, the one that makes her entire body tingle with happy chills. >sunshine. The sparkle in her eye is back, and Harry feels pride for being the reason she laughed. The entire world feels brighter now that she’s happy again. 

Y/n’s giggles die down slowly, and she looks down at Harry, eyes flickering between his. Her stare is intent as she chews on her lip, the remnants of her cheery smile still present in the apples of her cheeks.

Something thuds on the floor behind Harry. They both peer over the side of the bed to see what fell from his bedside table. It’s just a book… but when y/n looks closer…

“Wuthering Heights?” 

His cheeks turn pink. “Yeah…” he coughs dryly. “I um… I remember you reading it. Thought it might be nice if I picked it up, and that… we might be able to talk about it or something.” 

Her heart swells in her chest. “You’re reading Wuthering Heights?” 

“Well– trying to,” he chuckles at himself lamely. “I’m like 10 pages in.”

She wants to kiss him. She really really does. Like… he’s perfect and beautiful and kind and sweet and amazing. But… god would it be weird? After last time?

Harry pushes himself up on his elbows. He can feel the tension too. But when he inches closer to her, her eyes flicker with doubt and she looks away. 

“No,” he pleads, cupping her jaw. “Please… please don’t let it be different.” She meets his gaze again. 

“I like you,” he swallows thickly, “and I want… something with you. Whatever you want.” 

He inches upward, and this time she doesn’t pull away. Her heart races in her chest and she lets the magnetic force between them take over. 

“We’ll take it slow, at your pace…” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing back and forth on her cheek. Her eyes flutter shut. “No rush. Just trust me, please.”

She nods. She trusts him.

Their lips connect, a spark flying through y/n’s body the second she makes contact with him. It’s wonderful, better than last time, even, and she realizes the reason kissing Harry is so great is because it’s >Harry. Because she can feel how much he cares for her when he kisses her. He speaks poems with his lips when he kisses her and writes sonnets on her skin every time he touches her. He tastes like minty toothpaste, freshly washed, and his lips are so soft and sweet and gentle. 

He pulls away from her lips with a soft click, then stares up at her with hearts floating in his eyes. 

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Y/n is out of breath, huffing and puffing in front of Harry’s door and knocking like a madwoman. She ran here from her own apartment, too excited to wait and ask Maddie for a ride. She needed to see him >immediately. 

Harry opens the door with concerned eyes and furrowed eyebrows, a little bit scared. He still has his headphones on with his controller in his hands, staring down at y/n as though he just had a heart attack, “What? What is it?” 

A huge grin is plastered on her face. “Harry!” she beams. “I passed!”

“What?” he’s still confused. What did she pass? Why is she at his door?

“I got a 77% on the midterm!” she squeals, jumping up and down in her place. 

His eyes light up and a smile spreads across his face. “Yes!” he cheers. He pulls the headphones off of his ears and hangs them around his neck, just in time for when y/n wraps her arms around him. He’s taken aback, stumbling a few steps backwards from how hard she pummeled into him, but easily steadies himself and wraps his arms around her back. He hugs her so tight that her feet leave the ground, and she’s laughing in his ear sweetly.

“I can’t believe it!!!” she says, her hands on his shoulders as he puts her back down on the ground. Her eyes glimmer with the shine that he adores so much, and it makes him grin even harder. His dimple pops out, a rare sighting for anyone else except for y/n these days. 

He kisses her without a second thought.

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The scene is all too familiar. Harry, sitting at a party with his eyebrows furrowed grumpily. His friends are sitting around him, laughing and chattering, but Harry says nothing. He takes a bored sip from the jungle juice in his hand. Three girls have approached him tonight, batting their eyes up at him and biting their lips teasingly, but he’s brushed them off without so much of a glance. He’s not interested in the slightest.

He looks around himself, eyes searching for a certain someone, and he sighs to himself. She’s still not here. His pout grows more prominent, and he whips out his phone. He does not care for anyone at this party, and though his friends are fun and all… they’re having a weird conversation about Elon Musk that he doesn’t want to even listen to.

He huffs. He stares at the last text he received, 19 minutes ago.

sunshine: omw!! be there in 15 :)

She’s 4 minutes late, he pouts. It’s probably Maddie’s fault.

A firm poke is pressed to his forehead. “Hey grumpy.” His heart jumps as he recognizes the sweet sunshine angel voice speaking to him. 

“Sunshine,” he coos, the furrow his brow immediately melting into a soft smile. He holds a hand out for her, which she immediately takes. She has a soft smile on her face, her eyes kind and warm and gentle, the LED party lights haloing around her head and making her look like a fairy. “Missed you.”

He pulls her down into his lap, her butt comfortably sat on his thighs, and nuzzles his face into her neck, trying to get as close to her as possible. A content hum rumbles through his chest now that he’s surrounded by her scent, his pretty girlfriend in his lap, drowning out all the other people at the party. She giggles cutely when his curls tickle her chin, simultaneously trying to escape the kisses he’s pressing to her sensitive throat while also wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

“Watcha drinking?” she asks. 

He offers her his drink, “dunno.” She grimaces as she takes a sip, and he imitates her grossed out face. “Yucky, isn’t it?”

She gets the drink as far away as possible from herself. “Gross.” 

He chuckles. She’s so beyond cute, her cheeks so soft and biteable as she scrunches her nose. One of his hands is on her back, holding her upright, while the other one rests on her thigh comfortably. His fingers on her back find the ends of her hair and start twisting them, playing with the soft strands and curling them around his fingers, while his fingers on her thigh trace up and down and up and down. Goosebumps rise along the path of his fingers, and it makes him smile. She’s so reactive to every single one of his touches… he wants to have his hands on her 24/7.

If she wasn’t so shy and sweet and innocent, he’d start kissing her pretty, glossed up lips right here and now, even with all of their friends sitting around them. He’s obsessed with her! Obsessed with kissing her all the time and teaching her all the secrets of intimacy. But he knows she’d probably get bashful and embarrassed with that much PDA (even getting her to sit in his lap took a bit of coaxing at the beginning), so he settles for pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re so cute,” he murmurs to her, resting his head on her shoulder. Is it too early for them to leave this party and to his room? He’d love to be snuggled up in bed with her… have her read to him a little bit while he plays with her hair… yeah that sounds nice.

“M’gonna go get a juice box from the fridge,” she whispers (his fridge is stocked with juice just for her). He whine when she pulls away, looking up at her with big pleading puppy dog eyes, begging her not to leave him when he’s just gotten her, but she pecks his cheek with a dismissive kiss. “Do you want one too?”

“No,” he pouts. “I’ll just have some of yours, if that’s okay?”

She squints her eyes at him, “you get two sips, and that’s it.” 

He shrugs with a teasing smile. “M’kay.” He resists the urge to pat her ass as she walks away (that’s for when they’re alone in his room).

He’s stuck in a lovey dovey lavender haze as he watches her get swept away by a group of her girlfriends, smiling to himself fondly as they all giggle and look towards Harry mischievously. He knows she’s probably getting grilled about how little miss sunshine finally got a boyfriend! 

A shove from Blake jostles him out of his daydream. “Who are you?” Blake snickers. All of his friends are staring at him too. Nobody has ever, ever seen grumpy Harry be so soft with anyone. Kissing her cheek and cuddling into her neck and whining like a love-struck puppy… it’s funny. 

Harry rolls his eyes and tells his friends to fuck off, trying to furrow his brows and look all serious again. But his heart flutters happily in his chest, and those pretty dimples dent his cheek. 

He can’t be very grumpy when his sunshine girl is skipping back to him, juice box in hand as she settles back down on his lap. 

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perfect ending for my fav story:( TELL ME WHAT BLURBS U WANNA SEE!!!! MANY MANY BLURBS TO COME BC I LOVE THIS STORY:(

sunshine masterlist

[garciaasfluffypen]

take care of me (like i take care of you) pt. 2

pairing: jemily x adhd!reader word count: 2.3k warnings: reader’s kinda bratty in this one! reader is confused as to why being bratty is making them feel tingly but they like it so they keep doing it, softdom!jj begins to make an appearance, color system usage, the origin of jj refusing to be called mommy (she has a moment™️)

a/n: hi besties!! i wrote this on my phone because i can’t find my laptop charger so please excuse any sort of typos you find! thats also why the beginning of this post currently isn’t formatted like the other ones but soon as i can charge my laptop i’ll be fixing it. there will be a part three to this! i had to find a good place to end or else this would have been a beast to read lol.

ps. when i wrote this i was 100% imagining white tank top!jj and emily in the burgundy lululemon looking sweatshirt from the episode where they’re building the crib for kristy and matt ;)

you couldn’t contain your excitement as you basically tripped over your feet to run up to jj’s audi, jumping up and down in your seat as you waited for your girlfriends to join you. it was five minutes past nine and everyone was ready so naturally you ran to the car. you had been ready for two hours, but that was only because you had gotten up so early. you had everything you could possibly need in your little cross shoulder body bag and had to stop yourself from biting your fingernails to the quip in pure excitement as you waited. emily came out first, slipping you your preferred chewy necklace that was easy to hide under your shirt. as soon as the chewy end of it entered your mouth, emily’s hands reached around you and wrapped the black string around your neck. without realizing it you naturally leaned into her touch, pulling her hand toward your cheek as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt while you stared at the door leading inside the kitchen. jj came out a few minutes later, her to-go cup of coffee tucked neatly away in the crook of her arm as she started to pull up the directions to the zoo.

jj slid into the drivers seat with ease, smiling at you as she saw the way you were sitting. she grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze before placing your phone in it, chuckling lightly at the layer of blush that ended up on your cheeks as you sheepishly took it from her. your block blast game was still up on the screen as you left it on the bathroom counter when you started doing your makeup. jj started the car and reversed out the driveway, leaving you to become reimmersed in your game. before you knew it you could just start see the sign for the zoo on the water tower peeking over the houses in the distance, meaning you were just about ten minutes away.

“lovey, besides seeing the giraffes, is there anything you want to do today?”

“um… i haven’t seen the elephants in a long time.” you paused, thinking. “and also the lions, i want to see the lions too.”

“do you think we could fit in a visit to the lemurs?” jj shot a glance to you. “i quite like lemurs.”

you nodded. “we can definitely see the lemurs.”

you made a mental note to yourself that jj liked lemurs, adding it to the little box that you had in your brain with facts about your girlfriends. it was mainly filled with silly little facts that most people wouldn’t normally pay attention to, like the fact emily writes in print script or that jj only eats salt and vinegar chips when she’s high. sure, there were the obvious facts that almost everyone on the team knew, but there were ones that were just your facts. and you wanted to keep them that way.

despite being a fully grown adult, you knew deep down that things like this were needed to help heal your inner child. you didn’t have the best childhood, but you were doing your best to fix it now. you bounced anxiously on the balls of your feet as you waited for the train to take you to the back of the zoo, the wind blowing your hair all around your face as you waited. jj silently pulled you toward her and helped you pull your hair back, putting it in a single braid for you.

by the time you got to the giraffe exhibit you could barely contain your excitement, your hands balling into fits and promptly unballing themselves as you tried to combat the need to stim. your arms stiffened as you tried to hold back your energy, shaking a bit as you focused on staying still as you could. that didn’t last long, seeing as there wasn’t many people around you at the moment and your girlfriends were positioned behind you. you let your hands start flapping, doing your best to keep them close to your sides as possible. a small squeak of noise came out of your mouth as you watched the zoo keepers slowly bring out the stars of the event. the crowd around you started to grow as the people made their way up from the front of the zoo, most of them not paying you any attention and instead looking for the little baby that the zoo was celebrating.

slowly but surely the calf made it's way out of the enclosure, still a little unsteady on it's feet. you watched in awe as it made it's way around the exhibit, noting how small it was compared to it's parents. jj wrapped her arms around you from behind, intertwining her fingers with your hands and placing a kiss on your shoulder. you could tell she was standing on her tip toes to reach your shoulder and made sure to flatten your feet, considering you tended to stay on your tip toes when you got too excited about things.

“how tall do you think he is?”

“i’d guesstimate around 6 feet.” you rocked up and back down to flat feet as you spoke. “giraffes give birth standing up so they fall roughly six feet to the ground but get up on their feet within the hour.”

“you know more about giraffes than i thought.”

“i had a hyperfixation on wild animals and the care of them before i ended up in the academy. i was wanting to double major in zoology and communications before i started to look into paths to go down with a communications degree.” you turned to face jj and emily. “i was going to be an advocate for animal rights but then i started reading about the fbi and decided that would probably be a better path to go down.”

before you could continue your thoughts, the chime that sounded before the giraffe feedings sounded, signaling for everyone who had a ticket to line up. you were closer to the end, whch was fine because it meant you could watch the giraffes for longer. emily and jj made sure to take pictures of you the whole time, smiling and laughing along with you as the giraffe’s tongue tickled your hand while it ate the leaves you held out. by the time you got out of the exhibit, your stomach started to rumble and you pouted towards your girlfriends as you walked past one of the many cafés scattered around the zoo. without a word, emily pulled the three of you inside, telling you to order whatever you wanted. you ended up going for the chicken tenders and fries, knowing that the meal was something you most likely would have gotten when you came as a child. it was hard to remember if you ever came, but you presumed it was what you got because it felt right.

by the time the three of you made it to the halfway point, you started to realize your whole body was beginning to hurt. you weren’t sure if it was from physically stopping yourself from stimming in the bigger crowds, or if it was from all the walking you had done. either way, you found yourself starting to slow down a bit and start to feel like you needed a ten hour nap. it was only when you got toward the lemur exhibit when your body really started to hurt, and you unintentionally started to let it slip into your mind that you were hurting and needed to go home.

jj was the first to notice that you were starting to feel off, clocking the heaviness of your walking and the fact you had started to get a little whiney. there had been approximately three times in the five years she had known you that she had ever seen you this way. and all of those times happened when you were over exerting yourself. most of the times it was because you were stubborn, but this time it didn’t seem that way. within ten minutes you were complaining about how much your feet hurt and how you felt like you were going to die if you didn’t get to sit down within the next five minutes. emily and jj fell a few steps behind you, whispering to each other about how to go about the situation.

“do you think she’s subconsciously wanting us to.. i dunno, take control? lacey mentioned something about that at the support group on saturday.”

jj chewed at the end of her necklace. “it's possible. i’m willing to try it if you are, but the second they push back or show any signs of not going along with it i’m stopping.”

“are you going to take the lead on this?”

“if you don’t mind. we know how easily they’ll react to you, i’m curious what would happen if you didn’t say anything but i did.”

“then do it. i trust you.”

jj squeezed emily’s hand before making her way back over to where you sat on the bench, watching the zebra walk by and graze on the grass in front of you. you definitely looked worse for wear, considering the braid your hair had been in all day was beginning to come undone and you most definitely got sunburned on your shoulders at some point. jj knew you weren’t feeling well, and that you were hiding it in order to appease her and emily. it was something she had noticed multiple times throughout their time with you so far. even if you didn’t feel like doing something, you typically would put on a happy face and go through with it anyway. it hadn’t happened much, but she had started to catch it more and more.

“y/n, it’s time to go.”

“what? no!” you gasped. “we haven’t even been to the polar bears yet!”

“i know, and i know you want to finish it but i’m calling it.” jj stepped closer to you, her voice dropping. “you’re tired and need to go home and rest. i’m giving you til the count of five, and if you don’t get up and come with us to the car we won’t go to dolphin beach this weekend.”

“you wouldn’t!”

“five.”

“jayje- this isn’t fair! em-my, do something!” you whined, staring at the brunette.

“two.” jj raised an eyebrow as you refused to budge. “fine, we stay, but no beach then.”

“i’d listen to her if i were you.” emily replied. “while we haven’t truly gotten into that dynamic with you just yet, i will say that i’d be careful how much you go against her, lovey.” emily gave you a pointed look before clasping her hands together. “that being said, we use the color system. red means hard stop, yellow means i’m uncomfortable and green means go.” emily paused. “color?”

“green.”

“good. if anything changes, tell jj. i’m going to go to the ladies room, i’ll meet you up by the gates.”

emily placed a kiss on jj’s cheek and simply patted you on the shoulder before walking towards the front of the zoo, leaving you alone with the blonde. the logical part of your brain knew she was right. you were tired, your body was aching and you couldn’t walk for more than five minutes without having to sit down. but on the other hand, you were having fun poking the bear. reluctantly you got up, huffing and making a big deal of going home. you didn’t understand much about the way it was making you feel, but you knew it sent a tingle through your body seeing jj getting all worked up. it was amusing to you how red she got from you simply being a brat. and frankly, you liked it.

“you’re being unfair!”

“this attitude stops now, y/n. we’re going home.”

you bit your tongue cheekily, a glint forming in your eyes as you waited to see jj’s reaction. “mommy, you’re being mean to me.”

jj whipped her head to you, balling her hand into a fist at the side of her body. “what did you just call me?”

“… mommy?”

jj stopped walking suddenly, causing you to bump into her. “red.” she swallowed. “i’d like to talk about that later, when we’re home. not right now.”

“i’m sorry.” you looked at the ground, mortified. “it won’t happen again.”

a wave of guilt overtook your body as you two quietly walked to the front of the zoo, emily sensed some tension the second she saw you two, but knew that if she said anything you would probably start to spiral. by the time you got back to the car, all you could do was slip into the backseat and hope that jj wasn’t do mad at you that she was going to end everything. emily, albeit confused, took the front seat, trying to get an accurate read on jj. something happened while she was in the bathroom, but she couldn’t place a finger on what exactly that something was. by the time jj pulled into the driveway, the tension in the car had gotten so thick you couldn’t hold your tears back, letting them fall slowly down your cheeks as you forced yourself not to sob.

“go to our room. i’m going to compose my thoughts, give us a minute to calm down, then i’ll come talk to you.”

“o-okay.”

jj waited until you got out of the car to look at emily. “i called red.”

“what happened?”

“she called me mommy. i didn’t like it. i felt… gross. it was almost… too feminine?” jj looked at emily. “i probably sound crazy but-“

“you’re allowed to not like the way it makes you feel, jay.”

“i just don’t understand why it made my skin crawl.”

“may i.. is that why you don’t like being called beautiful or pretty?”

jj’s head snapped up. “huh?”

“the feminine terms. you don’t like them.”

“not necessarily, no.”

emily nodded. “we don’t have to unravel this now, but we need to put a pin in this. the three of us need to talk about that together so we’re all on the same page.”

“you’re right. can you go check on them? i just need… i need to think about how i’m going to articulate everything.”

“of course.” emily squeezed jj’s hand. “come up when you’re ready.”

“i will. promise.”

taglist: @jayden-prentiss @idkwhatever580 @multifandomlesbianic @softestqueeen

[autisticoscarpiastri]

The Bet- Loscar x reader

A little drabble set in this universe created by @maxlarens and me about doing Oscar’s makeup

Tw: None really, reader is implied to have a visibly different skin tone than Oscar (sorry not sorry perfectly tanned girlies) if I missed anything, let me know

“Dude, you lost the bet; you’ve gotta pay the price!” Logan told Oscar.

“Fine, let’s go get y/n,” Oscar begrudgingly told Logan.

Once they arrived at your dorm, they knock on your door. You open the door, wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, with your hair up in a high pony. “What’s up, babes?” you ask upon seeing your boyfriends.

“Oscar lost a bet,” Logan informs you.

“And…” you prompt.

“And the loser has to get his makeup done by you.”

“OMG! I thought you would never ask! Yes, come in. I’ll get my makeup.” Logan makes himself comfortable on your bed will you direct Oscar to sit at your desk chair. “Uh uh, shoes off if you’re on my bed.”

Logan groans before pulling his shoes off and throwing them by your door.

“Oscar, do you mind if I sit on your lap while doing this?” you ask softly.

“Not at all,” Oscar responds, so you straddle his thighs, being mindful of his crotch. This causes Logan to pout.

“First we need to skin prep. I’m just gonna use my moisturizer which is suitable for all skin types. It’s a gel, so it might feel a little cold at first.” You squeeze out just the right amount of moisturizer onto your fingers, warming it up slightly before applying it to Oscar’s face, with extra focus on the places you tend to get driest.

“Now we wait for your skin to absorb the moisturizer. Then we can apply spf.”

“So what exactly do you plan on doing to me,” Oscar asks.

“I’m thinking for you I’m gonna do a simple neutral eye look to really make your brown eyes pop. I’m not gonna use any complexion products because,” you gesture to your face before gesturing to Oscar’s slightly tanned skin. “And then I think I’m gonna use this baby pink blush with shimmer on the cheeks and finish off the look with a lip oil.”

Oscar nods his head in agreement before you touch his cheek to see if the moisturizer been absorbed into the skin which it has. You then apply the SPF onto Oscar’s skin evenly. While that dries you rummage through a makeup bag for the pallet that you plan on using. While rummaging through your makeup bag, you pull out your mascara, makeup brushes, and your eyelash curler.

“What the hell is that?” Logan asks you.

“Ummmm, an eyelash curler. It curls your eyelashes,” you state the obvious.

“Yeah, but how does it work?”

“It’d be easier to show you. Oscar, do you mind?” Oscar shakes his head, so you hold his jaw to keep him still, and use the eyelash curler on his lashes. “Et voila! See how his lashes on the left eye are more straight while the right eye’s are more curled?” you ask Logan.

Logan gets up from his seat at your bed to truly inspect Oscar’s eyelashes. While he’s looking at Oscar’s eyes, you get your eyeshadow palette and open it up. You pick up some of a medium brown shadow onto your brush and apply it to Oscar’s crease and outer corner. You then take a fluffy brush to blend out the harsh edges. You then apply a beige shimmer onto his lid, blending it into the brown shadow. Finally you put a white shimmer on his inner corner and the brow bone. You then move onto his eyelashes. You place the eyelash curler over his eyelashes and clamp down, being careful not to clamp down on his eyelid. Once you think the lash is significantly curled, you apply the mascara.

“You’re gonna have to blink for me, hun,” you tell Oscar. Oscar blinks on command as you coat his lashes. You then copy what you did to his left eye. “I’m using a burgundy mascara which will really make your brown eyes pop.”

You then get your blush and a fluffy blush brush out of your makeup bag. You apply the blush to the brush before tapping the brush against your wrist to evenly apply it to the brush. You then dust the blush on Oscar’s cheekbones making sure that the application is even.

Next you find your lip oil from your bag before unscrewing the cap. You apply it to Oscar’s lips only for him to lick it off. “Osc, you’re not supposed to do that,” you tell him dejectedly.

“If I’m not supposed to eat it, then why is it flavored?”

“It’s flavored to hide the flavor of the oils used in the product.”

“Well it tastes good, what flavor is it?”

“It’s lychee nectar. Now this time you don’t immediately lick it off, okay?” you asked.

“Okay,” he replies, putting his hands up defensively. You then reapply the lip oil, humming contently when he doesn’t immediately lick his lips. You then give him a big kiss on his cheek, being careful to not mess up his makeup.

“Logan, you want to see the finished product,” you ask.

Logan gets up from where he was laying on your bed, scrolling on his phone. “Wait, why is that kinda hot?” Logan asks rhetorically.

“I know, right? Masc guys wearing makeup is honestly such a turn-on for me. It awakens something in me,” you tell the boys. You then move to find a mirror in your makeup bag to show Oscar your handy work.

“Okay, I think I kinda like it,” Oscar tells you a little reluctantly.

“As you should, you look hot! I’ll go get the makeup wipes to take the makeup off then we can go for somewhere for lunch.”

“Wait, would it be that bad if I said I want to keep the makeup on?” Oscar asks.

“Not at all, honestly, there’s nothing hotter then straight men who are comfortable enough in their sexuality to openly express themselves outside of what’s expected of them in public.” When you said straight men, Oscar gave Logan a knowing look.

You get your wallet and phone and tell the boys that you’re ready to go.

“Where do we wanna go for lunch,” Logan asks.

“Oh, there’s a new Thai place downtown that I think we should try,” you inform your boyfriend.

“Does Thai sound good to you, Osc?” Logan asks your other boyfriend, always considerate of both of your feelings.

“Anything sounds good as long as I’m with you two,” Oscar answers.

[stevesbabysittingservice]

MIDNIGHT LOVE ✨;✩°𓏲⋆💤.*

steve harrington x fem!reader [4.2K] steve didn’t expect to have fallen madly in love with you, much less for his confession to be whispered in the dead of night after another nightmare renders him sleepless. (16+)

Sleeping was a privilege Steve Harrington lost a long time ago.

Finding himself sitting in his kitchen at half past two, his bruised knuckles tap against the marble countertop in time with the faint ticking of the clock mounted on the wall. It’s a steady sound, one that still lingers with an uneasy sense of worry thanks to a man named Henry Creel, but Steve still tries to keep in time to catch his lost breath.

Steve woke up in a sweat, chest heaving and heart racing after yet another collage of gruesome, disturbing images infiltrated his dreams. The sound of your piercing screams, one so loud that it could shatter glass, the amount of crimson pooling at your stomach and seeping through his fingers, the pain rattling in his chest, the light draining from your pretty eyes.

Even now, after being awake and stumbling aimlessly through his expectantly empty home, Steve’s still not really sure how much of it was real. In any other circumstance, Steve would like to say he’s pretty good at handling the aftermath of the catastrophes in his head, but something about this time felt different.

Steve can’t seem to decide what’s worse; the fact that his dream felt so real because, in some way, there was a significant level of truth to it, or because it hurts him that little — a lot — more since he’s almost certain he’s fallen in love with you.

He wasn’t prepared for that. He isn’t prepared for that.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out, his voice shot and rugged from what little sleep he managed to get. His hands, ones covered in calluses and surface-level cuts, shake a little as he runs them through his bed-messed hair and down his face. “Fuck.”

Hot and cold flashes shock his body like a lightning strike, goosebumps rising on his uncovered legs and his chest rising with heat beneath his old Hawkins High Phys. Ed sweatshirt. Everything aches. The muscles in his arms and his legs, his head, the gashes and torsions littering his waist.

It’s only been a few days since the world fell apart and got stitched back together and Steve can’t seem to find any peace of mind, can’t even seem to relax for just one, measly second.

The weight of the world crushing his shoulders for the past three years, the physical toll his body has had to endure time and time again, all whilst trying to balance the necessity to protect the people he cherishes like family. It’s a lot to bear at 19. He’s almost certain he’s destined for every good thing in his life to turn to ruins.

“Baby?”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Steve swivels on the kitchen stool at the sound of your voice, warm and doe-eyed. The light of his life, the one thing keeping him sane, his version of heaven. Steve was starting to wonder if tonight would be the first time you didn’t notice the absence of his figure beside you in bed.

What a stupid, stupid fool he is to think you wouldn’t notice.

Steve’s features soften at the sight of you, groggy and sleepy and far too adorable for someone who’d have just woken up. Even though he’s bone-deep tired and still a little shaken up from his nightmare, the boy finds himself smiling faintly at your arrival, anyway. You always manage to make him grin, even without trying.

You're in his shirt, like always, the fabric light against your skin and the hem of it stops just short of your hips. Your sleep shorts are barely visible beneath, the only proof of them being the satin ribbon glinting in the moonlight, the once-tied bow now hanging, unravelled, at your thigh.

Like oxidized copper, day-old bruises stain your skin, shades of yellow and moss-green replacing the once burgundy and deep purple splotches that painted your knees. Scabbed cuts in the shape of a Demobat’s jaw litter the expanse of your calf like a fucked up puzzle, and the no-doubt scars waiting to form make Steve feel terrible all over again.

You’re alive, thank God, but that’s yet to be enough to ease the pain of wishing he could’ve done more.

Shades of blue and indigo paint over you like an oceanic kaleidoscope, a capsize of darkness making your cheekbones, your jaw, the muscles on your biceps and your thighs nothing short of a Goddess-like vision. As you further step into the kitchen, your presence alone makes Steve feel like the entire world has been set on fire and glittered sunshine and warmth.

Fuck. He really might be in love with you.

“Hey, baby.” Steve says a little guiltily and his voice is an octave or two lower than normal, almost like he’s afraid that breaking the silence that once accompanied him might ruin the heavenly sight of you.

“Steve, it’s.. it’s two in the morning,” you chide softly, voice a little raspy but Steve can still hear the worry seeping between your words. Your knuckles rub at your eyes, a weak attempt at knocking away the evidence of sleep and waking yourself up simultaneously. “What’re you doing up?”

It’s closer to three than it is two, and Steve’s been up for much longer than that. But he won’t tell you that. Not when he knows it’d get you even more worried.

“Thirsty,” he says, and the word comes out tougher than he meant it to. His throat honestly feels like sandpaper. “Needed a drink, s’all.”

Steve tilts his head towards the cup of water he’d poured that sits on the counter. However, in retrospect, the boy wishes he hadn’t given it much attention at all because the glass he motioned to is obviously untouched, condensation dripping down the sides and there’s a lack of lip or finger marks.

Your eyes flit between the glass and your tired boyfriend, an unconvinced look lacing your features, and it’s not long before you silently tread towards him. Steve knew it was a weak attempt at getting you back to bed. He knew you wouldn’t. Not without him, anyway.

“What’s wrong?”

Your question comes out more of a grumble than anything, but the concern is still there, still genuine. You know him all too well, and Steve was an absolute idiot in thinking he could get away with such a pathetic lie.

It’s like he’s in a hypnotic state whenever you’re with him because Steve isn’t quick enough to come up with another lie. He just watches you in awe. You draw close like a magnetic force, and the boy’s legs part automatically. In all honesty, he’d be a liar to say he didn’t expect that you’d crowd his space sooner rather than later.

Your hands find his in the dark and your fingers run across the bumps of his knuckles. The glitter in your nail polish catches the light peeking in through the window above the sink and it makes it seem like shooting stars are dancing across his bruises.

You’re so tender with him, he’s come to notice. Like he’s an expensive China doll, or a glass fixture hanging from the ceiling. You always stare at him like you're admiring him, too, even when Steve feels exceptionally unattractive, and you always make him like a teenager all over again.

“Bad dream?” you eventually answer the question Steve had forgotten about after a few moments of comfortable silence, mumbling against his temple.

Earlier on in your relationship, Steve felt nothing short of a burden. He’d keep you up at night, come stumbling upon your front door bloodied and bruised and in need of help, and drag you along on adventures you’d have never signed up for if you knew what they’d entail.

But, even amongst the terror, you never complained, not once, and Steve often thanks the God he doesn’t believe in to have found somebody as patient and understanding as you.

So, Steve can’t see a point in lying anymore. Not when you know him so well— not when you’ve seen him at his worst and stayed.

“Yeah,” Steve admits through a shallow breath, his lungs still constricting themselves even after he’d steadied his breathing maybe ten minutes ago. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Much to his delight, you wrap your arms around his shoulders before pressing yourself into him. Steve returns the favor instantaneously, your body still lingering with warmth from his bed as he slides his hands beneath your shirt and around your torso. If he died in this position, he’d die a happy, grateful man.

Steve basks in your company, his eyes closing briefly, and part of him thinks he could fall asleep like this if you’d let him. His face presses against your collarbone and he lets out a faint, satisfied hum when he feels you place a soft kiss on the top of his head. You’re so soft and warm and Steve practically melts against you.

Another kiss from you, a wordless I’m sorry. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve barely shakes his head, but it’s enough for you to notice. “Don’t wanna keep you up.” he says.

You pull away, then — not far, but there’s just enough distance between you both that Steve can glance up at you with ease. You give him a look, one he’s become far too familiar with after being with you for so long; eyes soft, but narrowed.

“I’m already awake, Steve,” you dismiss the boy gently, hand moving to card through his dark locks. You push them out of his face, forcing Steve to meet your intense, but kind gaze. “What happened this time?”

In any other circumstance, Steve would persist in his refusal to talk about his nightmares. He knows that any time somebody had asked, it was out of pure concern, which he appreciates, but it’s just hard. Sometimes Steve thinks talking about it might make it more real, more plausible.

Robin, when he’d shown up with dark circles under his eyes at work and she’d nagged him in her Robin-esque way; Eddie, during their weekly smoke sessions at his trailer in a lazy, off-handed way in hopes to come off as carefree as he’s known to be; Nancy, because once upon a time, she knew him better than anybody.

It’s difficult for Steve to open up to them, because, in his mind, they still harbor this idea that he’s the strong knight in shining armor they expect him to be. Admitting that he’s weak, troubled, and unable to move past the shit he’s dealt with in the last few years would break that façade, and Steve isn’t sure he can handle that kind of disappointment.

But you? You’ve seen it all, even despite his trying to conceal it from you out of everyone, and it’s never phased you. His weakness has slipped through the cracks of his porcelain walls, and you still like him, he thinks. He’ll never understand what he did to deserve your kindness.

“We were at the lake again,” Steve starts reluctantly. It honest to God feels like he’s tugging at an open wound. “You got pulled down, and I chased after you, but the bats..” he exhales sharply and he runs a hand through his already distressed hair, a telltale sign that he’s been restless for a while now. “I didn’t get there in time.”

The thought of you not being here with him stings, and it’s the kind of hurt that’s far worse than any real pain he’s ever endured in his life— though, Steve considers the idea of losing you to be as real as pain could possibly be.

In reality, Steve knows your getting gravely injured couldn’t have happened with the way things went at Lover’s Lake. Not when he insisted on diving for the group, not when he refused to let you go down with him, not when he made Eddie swear on his life to keep you safe if things went sideways. It wasn’t foolproof, not by any margin, but it was enough.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still scare him shitless, though.

“I’m sorry, baby.” you say as you press another kiss to his head, but it’s a little longer than the one you’d given him earlier.

“It’s okay,” Steve dismisses, and when your eyes meet again he tries to force a smile. It’s unconvincing, like always, but you don’t further pry about the nightmare, which he’s ultimately grateful for. He doesn’t want to relive it any more than he already has. “It’s just— shit, I don’t know.. annoying. It’s like my brain loves torturing me, or something. Never wants me to get any fuckin’ sleep.”

“They’re just nightmares, you know,” you remind him with a frown, and Steve wonders if you’ll ever get tired of sounding like a broken record. The amount of times you’ve had to piece him back together after he’d woken up a panicked, broken version of himself is probably in the hundreds, thousands. “They aren’t real. Henry can’t trick you anymore.”

He likes that you call him Henry instead of Vecna. It somehow manages to make his mythical, supernatural powers.. smaller than they seem. Like you aren’t scared of him. Steve wishes he has that kind of confidence.

But they are real, in some way or another. There are hints of truth mixed within the already existing storm of terror causing a riot in his head. Because, regardless of the outcome, Steve’s brain consistently morphs his reality into something far more sinister and tragic.

Sometimes he finds himself so deep within the jungle of contorted memories that he can’t decipher whether you're really sleeping beside him or if it’s another one of Vecna’s tricks.

“Feels pretty goddamn real.” he huffs out an exhausted laugh, one so humorless it’s almost as sharp as a knife’s edge. God, he’s exhausted.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you apologize for what feels like the millionth time, and Steve feels guilty you need to fix something you didn’t break. “I wish I could make it better.”

You do. In ways Steve could never replicate. The feeling of your heartbeat rattling against his, the warmth your body provides, the lingering remnants of your floral perfume, the taste of your mint toothpaste against his lips, the sound of your voice and the purity in your laugh; it provides Steve sanctum within a place that hasn’t had any peace or grace in a long, long time.

“We’re okay, you know,” Steve knows you’re not necessarily asking him for an answer, even if it’s framed like a question. “I’m okay, and you’re okay. So are the kids, and Robin, Eddie, Nance.. it’s just your brain’s way of trying to make sense of what happened.”

“Pretty shitty of it to make me relive all that crap.” says Steve, another humorless laugh sneaking past his tongue.

“I know, but they’ll stop eventually,” you murmur, and Steve knows it’s more wishful thinking than anything, but it warms his chest anyway. “It’ll just take time.”

Steve’s grip tightens around your waist and he shudders at the image flashing behind his eyelids. “It’s just scary, y’know?” he breathes out. “Thinkin’ about what.. what could’ve happened because we weren’t careful.”

“We were as careful as we could’ve been, baby,” you tell the boy, and Steve knows that’s somewhat true. It wasn’t like you guys had days to sit and think of the perfect way to defeat an evil, child-murdering guy with tentacles, but it was enough. “You just.. you can’t get stuck on the what-ifs, Steve. It won’t do you any good.”

Steve hums, then, because you’re right, but he doesn’t say much else. He still feels deflated, even in the comfort of your presence.

“Besides,” you start with a little shrug, your body more energized than it had been when you initially found Steve drowning in his own dread. “There are things that are way scarier than what ifs, anyway.”

Yeah, Steve thinks, like how I think I’m falling in love with you.

But instead, the boy exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Mumbling against the material of your — his — shirt, he asks, “Yeah? Like what?”

When living in a shithole like Hawkins, a handful of supernatural things come to mind. The Demogorgon he saved you from in 1983, the Demodogs he was almost eaten by in ‘84, the Russians who almost beat him to a pulp in July of last year, the herd of Demobats you managed to beat up like Sigourney Goddamn Weaver—

“Taxes.” you blurt, and Steve doesn’t even have the chance to register what you’d said before a surprised laugh rumbles from his chest.

Fuck.

Steve's eyes snap up at you, and with wrinkled brows, he manages to half force out, half laugh, “What?”

Fuck.

“Any paperwork, really. Or me trying to cook,” you hum softly, the apples of your cheeks swelling as you let yourself drift back into the countless memories of kitchen mishaps you, and Steve, have shared in this very room. “I mean, you remember how Thanksgiving went. It was a total shitshow.”

One undercooked turkey, a load of burnt potatoes because you forgot to turn the oven down, and pumpkin pie that, oddly enough, had no pumpkin in it. It was a hot mess, really, but it’s probably one of Steve’s fondest memories— even if that's totally and utterly lame to admit.

He’s definitely in love with you.

“That..” Steve’s breath is shaky all of a sudden, and his voice wavers. “Yeah, you trying to cook is pretty scary.”

“Clowns are scary, too,” you add, almost for good measure. Your nose crinkles and Steve feels his chest bloom with heat at the sight of it. “They’re always smiling. It’s.. I mean, what’s scarier than that?”

Steve doesn’t mean to blurt it out, not really, but the compulsion to spill his flourishing feelings for you was far too burdening to ignore. Your hands were twisting in his hair, nails softly scraping at his scalp and you were staring down at him with your God-given smile like he’s a national fucking treasure or something.

If there’s one thing to know about Steve, it’s that he feels a lot. He’s passionate about a lot of things, and a lot of people, and trying to smother and conceal that part of himself only amplifies his emotions until he’s fit to burst. He throws his heart out on the line and lets it teeter like a trapeze artist and hopes that someone, somewhere, is ready and willing to catch it when it falls.

Most of the time it ends in tragedy and heartbreak, but Steve thinks that this time, you could be that someone to pick up the broken pieces with fragile hands and stitch them back together. He really hopes you’re that someone.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your body stills and your features contort into something Steve can’t decipher. You blink once, twice, before quietly muttering, “What?”

For a long, long time, home was just an idea that Steve was never quite able to grasp. A figure of his wildest, incapable dreams. His house, one that only seemed filled because of the old photos on the mantle and from the light bouncing off the chandelier, was never home. Hell— Hawkins as a whole isn’t home, either. Not anymore.

Steve hadn't known that home could be a person. Not until you.

“I think I love you.” Steve repeats, all his attempts at keeping his composure slowly wilting away with every second that passes.

Your gaze flickers across the expanse of his face, eyes soaking in every scar and every mark, every freckle and mole that litters his sun-kissed skin. One of your hands gently moves to cup the side of his face and your thumb slides almost methodically against his cheek, feather-like grazes across a silver scar he’d gained back in July 1985.

Steve can feel the warmth blooming beneath your angelic touch, a match to his body of flames, and barely above a whisper, you ask, “You think?”

His heartbeat begins to ricochet from his chest and into his now trembling fingertips. Steve’s veins feel like they’re pumping with acid, a new wave of anxiousness coursing through him like he’d been burnt from the inside out. It’s painful, in a way, but it’s a good kind of hurt. The kind he never wants to stop feeling.

So it takes Steve a moment, but he eventually shakes his head, his dark brown eyes flitting down at your lips before meeting your gaze again. He can’t help but notice the aquatic pools filling your lash line.

“I know,” Steve corrects himself, his tongue moving to wet his now dry lips. “I know I love you.”

Your breath hitches, then, and if the world hadn’t become a muted track in Steve’s ears, he might’ve missed it. You’re so, so quiet, all of a sudden, and there’s a large part of Steve that can’t help but start panicking because he’s convinced he’s already fucked this up.

“And that’s scary?” you ask him with a crack in your voice, words wobbling.

in a low voice, he admits, “Terrifying.”

Steve’s driven through heartbreak avenue so many times that his heart is probably more scar tissue than muscle, been dealt a bad set of cards after gambling his love away and left with nothing but the clothes on his back and the ghost of his ex-lover clawing at his chest.

He was black and blue most days, the haunting of what he could’ve done better always following him around like a fucked up shadow when he’d finally move on, only for him to just fall back into that same pit of regret he’d become oh so acquainted with.

It sucked, because getting his heart ripped out and stomped on time and time again was worse than any other pain he’s ever experienced in his 20 years of living.

But, what’s so scary, in Steve’s mind, is the fact that he’d do it all over again in a blink of an eye. He would take every punch and every jab, every insult and every ounce of hurt ten times over if he knew it meant that he’d find his way back to you.

Steve isn’t expecting you to say anything, much less do anything, so you can imagine his surprise when your hand is gentle as it cups the side of his face. He can’t help but lean further into your palm, his chocolate brown eyes unable to break away from your glassy ones.

In a soft, almost shaky voice, you tell the boy, “I don’t think you should be scared about that.”

Steve’s heart stops. “You don’t?” he asks, almost unsure because the uncertainty of your answer hangs heavy in the air.

“No. Because I..” you shake your head and lick your lips, too, pretty dream-like eyes darting across his features. And, with a faint, tired smile, you confess, “I love you, too, Steve. More than anything.”

Steve’s heart starts up again, quicker than ever before, because shit, that'd be enough for him.

Then, with unwavering confidence, Steve surges forward and captures you in a hurried kiss. Mouths slotting together in a heavenly disarray, the boy’s hands tighten around your frame and his mind goes entirely blank on everything that isn’t you because you’re his world he’d die orbiting around.

Steve’s kissing you with a level of fervid he didn’t know he had locked within him, and if the two of you were on display, it would seem like he’d been deprived of your admiration entirely. Your hand, the one splayed across his cheek, moves to his jaw and tilts his chin up ever so slightly and you deepen the kiss.

The boy can’t stop himself from trying to pull you impossibly closer, a new wave of determination washing over him as his desire to feel every ounce of you burns hotter. His tongue soothing over the accidental scrape of his teeth, Steve’s hunger only grows when you muffle out a faint moan against his lips.

You’re both panting when you pull away, a soft click sounding at the departure of your lips from Steve’s. Your forehead rests against his and Steve can’t help himself from trying to steal another kiss from you. You pull back, though, your eyelashes tickling his cheeks and Steve forgets entirely about the way the edge of the counter is digging into his spine.

“Can we go back to bed?” you ask him in a faint voice, eyes still closed and your nose bumps against his, your breath shallow against Steve’s face. The boy is left dizzy from your surging kisses, lips still tingling despite the loss of yours, and Steve almost misses the salacious hint in your request.

Almost.

The boy can’t bring himself to speak, but Steve nods, sneaking another kiss from you before he takes your hand in his and leads you back to the safety of his bedroom, socked feet padding against the floor sounding just as loud as the thumping his heart bounces off his ribcage.

And there, between rumbled sheets, Steve proves how much he loves you til the early signs of morning peak through his blinds, slivers of pink and orange rays mixing and painting your features gold.

Gentle kisses and rough hands, crescent moons adding to the constellation of freckles on his back, moans mixing with whispered sweet nothings echoing between his bedroom walls; a faint mantra of I love you, I love you, I love you encompassing you both.

[butchjess]

the jess mariano s2 outfits post.. all of his outfits for every one of his appearances including accessories and other such things found to the best of my abilities . full thing is under the read more

-repeat outfits are not included for my own sanity

*asteriks are to indicate the piece is not an exact match, but very close (couldn't find it or just not 100% sure)

S2E05 Nick & Nora/Sid & Nancy

The Camo Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch, black with stainless steel casing + grey braided string bracelet + dark brown leather belt with Civil War union soldier oval buckle

L.L. Bean navy blue puffer vest + Rothco long-sleeve Woodland camo shirt

Levi's 568 dark wash jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

Zip-Up Sweatshirt Fit

Nixon “The Rocker” A370 watch

Gray zip-up sweatshirt with US army staff sergeant rank insignia patch + Indera Mills navy blue raschel-knit thermal shirt

Levi’s 501 straight leg jeans*

Swiss modern combat boots

Wet Delinquent Fit

Nixon “The Rocker” A370 watch + gray braided string bracelet

Stanfield's charcoal long-sleeve thermal waffle knit shirt

Dickies loose fit jeans (logo painted over from back pocket)

Swiss modern combat boots

The Girl From Mars Fit

Nixon “The Rocker A370 watch + gray braided string bracelet

Gray zip-up sweatshirt with US army staff sergeant rank insignia patch + L.L. Bean navy blue puffer vest + white long-sleeved Fresno, CA motorcycle sweater*

Levi's 501 dark blue straight leg fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

S2E06 Presenting Lorelai Gilmore

Metallica Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + gray braided string bracelet

Pushead Metallica No Leaf Clover shirt

The Uniform Fit

Luke's season one baseball cap + Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + gray braided string bracelet

Burgundy plaid flannel + gray t-shirt

Dickies loose fit jeans

S2E08 The Ins and Outs of Inns

Child Labor Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + gray bracelet

Hanes black pocket t-shirt* + Rothco long-sleeve Woodland camo shirt

Levi's 568 dark wash jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

The Slacker Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch

L.L. Bean navy blue puffer vest + Tasman Empire Airways ltd. vintage red t-shirt + Stanfield's charcoal long-sleeve thermal waffle knit shirt

Levi's 501 straight leg fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

Double Denim Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch

L.L. Bean Sherpa-lined Trucker style denim jacket + Stanfield's charcoal long-sleeve thermal waffle knit shirt

Wrangler black regular fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

The Toaster Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

Green long-sleeve California graphic shirt + Stanfield's white thermal long-sleeve waffle knit shirt

Levi's 501 straight leg fit jeans

S2E10 The Bracebridge Dinner

Don't Need Your Help Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet + dark brown leather belt with Civil War union soldier oval buckle

Punk Planet magazine red t-shirt + Stanfield's white thermal long-sleeve waffle knit shirt

Wrangler black regular fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

The Carriage Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

Beige Sherpa-lined suede coat + black plaid button up + black undershirt

Levi's 568 dark wash jeans*

Swiss modern combat boots

The Glance Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

Black fatigue shirt*

Dickies loose fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

S2E12 Richard in Stars Hollow

Innocent Boy Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + dark brown leather belt with oval Civil War union soldier buckle

L.L. Bean Sherpa-lined Trucker style denim jacket + Rothco long-sleeve Woodland camo shirt

Wrangler black regular fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

S2E13 A-Tisket, A-Tasket

Superglue Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch

Beige Sherpa-lined suede coat* + Tasmanian Empire Airways ltd. red t-shirt + Stanfield's charcoal long-sleeve thermal waffle-knit shirt

Brown loose fit corduroy pants

The Guy Who Brought Enough Money Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch

Beige Sherpa-lined suede coat + green long-sleeve Califronia graphic shirt + Stanfield's white long-sleeve waffle-knit thermal + black long-sleeve shirt

Wrangler black regular fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

The Phone Call Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

Dickies long-sleeve garage blue industrial work shirt with embroidered US flag patch (name-tag included) + black long-sleeve shirt*

Brown loose fit corduroy pants*

White socks

S2E15 Lost and Found

The Gutter Cleaner Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet + gardening gloves

Wrangler gas station jacket (no nametag)* + Punk Planet magazine red t-shirt + black long-sleeve shirt

Wrangler black regular fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

S2E13 There's the Rub

Construction Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet + blue pen + blue hardhat + dark brown leather belt with oval Civil War union soldier buckle

Hanes gray pocket t-shirt + black long-sleeve shirt

Wrangler black regular fit jeans

Delivery Boy Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

L.L. Bean Sherpa lined Trucker style denim jacket + Dickies long-sleeve garage blue industrial work shirt with U.S. flag patch embroidered on sleeve (name-tag removed) + Hanes black pocket t-shirt*

Brown loose fit corduroy pants

Swiss modern combat boots

Navy Blue Sweatshirt Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

Ralph Lauren Polo Sport navy blue USA fleece sweatshirt (02 embroidered on sleeve)* + Stanfield's white long-sleeve waffle knit thermal shirt

S2E17 Dead Uncles and Vegetables

Despot Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

L.L. Bean navy blue puffer vest + Nordstrom brown button down dress shirt + black t-shirt

Levi's 568 dark wash jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

Diner Boy Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet + blue pen + dark brown leather belt with oval Civil War union soldier buckle

Hanes gray pocket t-shirt + Stanfield's white long-sleeve waffle knit thermal shirt

Dickies loose fit jeans (logo painted over/removed)

Funeral Party Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

Black fatigue shirt + white and black baseball tee*

S2E19 Teach Me Tonight

Ice Cream Cones Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

Big Smith green diamond quilted jacket + white striped double pocket linen shirt + black t-shirt + Stanfield's white long-sleeve waffle knit thermal shirt

RVCA Americana olive green baggy fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

S2E21 Lorelai's Graduation Day

Payphone Fit

Dickies navy blue Eisenhower jacket + gray button-up*

Levi's 568 dark wash jeans

New York Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch

Dickies navy blue Eisenhower jacket + Hardkore Kidd 2002 No Mercy tour shirt

RVCA Americana olive green baggy fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

S2E22 Can't Get Started

The Kiss Fit

Dickies navy blue Eisenhower jacket + gray graphic t-shirt* + Stanfield's black long-sleeve waffle knit thermal shirt

Levi's 568 dark wash jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶It's Christmas morning at the Munson's and Adrie has a small request.✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, lovesick yearning, very light angst, 18+ for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 7/20 [wc: 3.4k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 7: Breakthrough

Dreams of sleeping in were crushed one tiny footstep at a time.

Morning broke through the burgundy bed sheet hung as a curtain in the window. Slivers of blue fought away the slumbering gloom clinging to the peeled wallpaper, invading the small bedroom in drowsy clock ticks. Murky wine-colored shadows caressed the bundled comforter, crowded the pillows, soothed closed eyes into sweet dreams. Darkness cradled his head and sold him a lullaby fantasy. An aching yearn of a dream where the cold penetrating the thin trailer walls was kept at bay by more than his own body heat. Arms encircling him, a kiss behind his ear, a gentle wake up call. An idyllic rapture easily woven from the fibers of his unguarded heart. An aspiration quickly escaping his wishful fingers at the sound of running, and the vibrations of the trailer shaking, and–especially–the little voice yelling at him his five extra minutes were up.

“Daddy! You have to wake up.” Adrie jumped knees-first onto the mattress, and bounced her way over to him. “It’s Christmas, you have to get up!”

He grumbled from his warm pocket of air under the covers, and she whined.

“Please,” she begged, crawling towards him.

He winced, and hissed, “Ow-ow-ow, watch the hair. Miss Mouse won’t like me if I go bald.” He dropped his head back to where she sank her mighty fists into his pillow, and she apologized by putting all her strength into shaking his shoulder instead.

Wayne called from the kitchen, “I’m gettin’ started on our famous Christmas casserole.”

“Now that,” Eddie said in an upbeat tone, “I’ll get up for.”

“You’re mean,” Adrie pouted, scooting until her knees dug into his spine, and added on to it by saying it wasn’t fair he was making her wait to open presents.

Eddie twisted around to see her manufactured sad face (practiced over the years to elicit the strongest pity in him), and he snaked his arm out of the blankets to hook it around her, bringing her wriggling self in for a sloppy kiss on her forehead. She made a ‘yuck!’ sound and pushed away.

“Go sit, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Willfully, Adrienne slipped from his hold and sprinted the length of the trailer, rattling the metal window panes along her way.

In the following moment of quiet, he inhaled deep, and sighed through his hands scrubbing over his face. The oil in the electric radiator popped. A bird chirped. Music blasted from a neighbor’s home. A faraway bike skidded, spitting up loose rocks from the trailer park’s entrance.

Eddie rolled onto his back, and blinked at the stained ceiling. He tried to not make a habit of sleeping in Adrie’s bed now that she was older, but sometimes his back cried for a break from the lumpy couch cushions.. His back, his hips, his knees, his neck. All of it. Every now and then he needed the relief, to flatten himself out on the mattress after several long days of work wearing down on his body, even if it was considered weird or wrong by others.

Swinging his legs over the short drop to the floor, Eddie straightened out his thick knit socks, sweatpants, sweatshirt. He rubbed his knuckles against his dry eyes, stinging a line of water along his lashes. Flipped off the switch to the heater. Ran his fingers through his tangled hair, mouth tasting of stale beer from drinking last night with Wayne.

He stepped out of the room that used to be his, and staring at him down the hallway, past the kitchen, at the other end of the lousy home, was his little girl. She sat crisscrossed at the stout tree smelling of fresh sap, illuminated by colorful strands of lights, and backed by old ornaments previously stored in cardboard boxes. Her eyes sparkled with silver tinsel happiness, and her springy curls bounced with the excitement of her wave.

Wayne wrung a damp dish towel around his hands as he and Eddie made their way to the couch, and he gestured at her. “Alright, darlin’, you can go.”

The sacrifices were worth it.

In this lousy home filled with overdue bills and underprivileged struggles, was an abundance of love and awe. Eddie sat at the edge of his make-do bed with scratchy cushions that chafed his skin raw, and brushed his shaky fingers over his lips. “Yeah? Is that the one you wanted?” he asked, grinning so wide his puffy sleep-deprived eyes nearly closed from the unbridled joy he felt watching his daughter tear into the Rockin Robot cassette player and recorder; a toy which had an attached microphone so she could record herself singing onto blank tapes. “Wanna make music just like me?”

“Yes! I love it!”

It didn’t take long for Adrie to open her presents in the established order–smallest to largest. Stocking stuffers first, which she dumped out onto the pine-needled carpet, and snatched all the chocolates to put on the coffee table next to the plate of cookie crumbs and empty Looney Tunes mug. Tossed the pack of new socks and dress into a pile, but wore her pink rain boots. The talking Barney the Dinosaur doll, cassette recorder, and Barbie Fold ‘n Fun play house were placed aside for assembly and batteries later.

Wayne gathered the ribbons and bows she discarded to be saved for next year, and said, “Okay, Miss Adrie. Looks like you have one present left.”

The forest green bag with a portrait of Saint Nick sat propped against the tree, nearly as tall as Adrie when she stood and grabbed the handles. She peeked inside, and in one motion, dropped to the floor, and dislodged gift after gift. An eight-page book with reusable stickers she could move around to create scenes of dinosaurs roaming the land. A big box of 64 crayons with two coloring books. A plastic jewelry making kit. A puzzle. Containers of Play-Doh. And the very last item, turned over and shaken out from the bag, was a unicorn.

Adrie squealed, and swept the stuffed animal into her arms for a merciless hug. “He’s so cute!” she said, burying her face in the powder blue fur.

Eddie stopped tracing his lips. Wayne tilted his head at the scene, confused.

Spotting a small red envelope amongst the torn newspaper her presents were wrapped in, Adrie picked it up, and mouthed out the handwriting she wasn’t familiar with. “Santa left this for you.” Adrie held it out for Eddie to take.

Prying his gaze off the unexpected hoard, he accepted the envelope with his name on it, not uttering a word, nor reacting more than necessary. She bolted for her toys, and Wayne’s scrutiny was hot on the side of his expressionless face, watching him slide his finger under the corner of the flap and break the seal gently, avoiding tearing the paper.

He pulled out the card to reveal an illustration of two cardinals in a pine tree flocked with white glitter snow with a generic greeting on the front. Certain words were underlined in pen afterwards.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

He opened it to see if anything was written inside.

One glimpse.

He smashed the card closed and turned his face away from his uncle.

Collecting himself, Eddie sniffed and ran his knuckles along his jaw until he reached back and wrung his nape as he stood up, and walked to the coat hooks, slipping on his jacket and shoving his feet into his work boots without acknowledging his family.

“Where’re you–?” Wayne stared at his back in quiet bafflement.

“Goin’ out for a smoke,” he answered, and shut the door behind him.

~~~

Tree branches stilled after the delicate breeze knocking them together ceased. Hungry dogs went inside for kibble and warm blankets. Kids stopped riding their bikes when their moms called their names. Humidity dampened the crisp air. Everything hushed.

Eddie sat on the frumpy loveseat on the porch built onto the trailer. His forearms laid on his thighs, and the card remained clapped between his palms. He took a shaky breath. Exhaled. Or tried, anyway, to breathe despite his nose stopping up.

He opened the card again and read the message spanning the entire blank space available.

merry christmas eddie,

i hope adrie likes the gifts!

i know it’s hard for you to find peace,

so i tried going for quiet things that would

keep her busy, like the puzzle. it’s double sided!

that’ll keep her entertained. and i loved

play-doh as a kid, so i hope she does

too. & i can get her more coloring books if

she doesn’t like the animal ones. i know

Continued on the other side–

the bracelet kit says ages 7+ but maybe

you can supervise her. i remember having

one when i was little, before parents cared if

we choked on the beads.

SEASONS GREETINGS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR

if she’s not still in her unicorn phase, spare me!

it was too cute to pass up.

anyway, please get lots of rest over the holidays.

you deserve to relax.

–♡–

    mouse

His daughter came dashing out the door, and ran up to him with her jacket flapping around her arms. He shoved the card under his thigh, and shifted his focus to zipping it up for her to silence his emotions from surfacing, not having the energy to risk shattering the facade of the morning by explaining why the unicorn she galloped up his leg meant more to him than it did her.

“You like what Santa got you?” he asked, running a heavy hand over her hair.

“He knew exactly what I wanted,” she rejoiced.

With the temperature dropped, and her boots shiny, she raced the stuffed animal up to his hip, and left him to babysit it while she played outside in the frozen-over yard.

Gladly, he tucked the unicorn companion under his arm as Wayne pushed open the squeaky side door and joined him.

Under normal circumstances, Wayne’s old man stoicism worked wonders on getting Eddie to talk. It was a sure thing. He’d see him come home with red-rimmed eyes, or that far away gaze on the worser days, and he sat in earnest patience, knowing his nephew needed the cool down time to organize his thoughts, and then he’d explain what had him upset.

It worked less well in the years following the incident which led to Eddie’s ostracization from Hawkins, but he just had to be patient. It would work. Eventually. Just had to be patient.

And when his nephew refused to speak, Wayne sparked up a cigarette, and ventured, “I don’t, uh, remember us buyin’ those last presents.”

“They’re from the receptionist at work,” Eddie stated. He didn’t move his gaze from staring holes into the worn down floorboards, but he did sink back into the couch, combing his fingers through the unicorn’s white mane.

“Oh,” Wayne said in genuine surprise. “That was nice of her.”

Treading carefully, his uncle spun his hand as he thought of the best way to approach the real conversation he wanted to have. “She seems nice.. To you, and to Adrie.”

That was when Eddie shook his head. “I know where you're going with this,” he warned, absent of any real threat behind the words.

He went silent in stubbornness.

But Wayne just had to be patient.

“She’s very.. uh.” Eddie sighed. He started again, this time looking up at the rusted awning as if it had all the answers to his love life woes. “She’s very vibrant, y’know? From the city, lives a big life, loves performing for people. She doesn’t need a gray cloud like me hanging over her.” He laughed a hollow laugh, and bumped his shoulder into Wayne���s, pretending their conversation was of the light-hearted variety. Like admitting these things aloud didn’t cause a devastating blow to his neglected self-esteem. “Doesn’t need someone like me tying her down to a place like this.”

Wayne scanned the same trailer park in the same small town with the same curse of bearing the Munson name, but he viewed them with less disdain. Less animosity. “You used to be vibrant too, kid. Used to always be talkin’ about your hobbies, playing music too loud, sittin’ out here with your guitar. Always bringing your friends over. What happened?”

Too many things happened, and they were not the kind he verbalized often, so Eddie chose the most obvious.

The corner of his mouth twitched at the joke flashing through his mind. He got in real close to Wayne’s face, raised his hand, and directed his attention. “My vibrancy’s currently ruining her new shoes.”

Tracking his finger, Wayne slowly turned his head in time to see Adrie crack the ice barring her from a puddle, and stomped it into smithereens, sending mud up her pajama pants and into her pretty pink rain boots. She jumped, and jumped, and giggled, and jumped, all over her dad’s heart.

Satisfied, Eddie hugged the unicorn to his chest after making his point.

“Have you considered maybe she likes gray clouds? Or she’s the type that looks forward to the rainy days?”

“We can drop the weather analogies, Wayne,” he said in a curt tone, cutting off his uncle's incessantness. “It’s not that, anyway. I know she likes me, I’m not that dense.”

Wayne didn’t put much effort into keeping the humor out of his voice, “Then what are you being dense about?” The contemptuous head tilt and accompanying eye roll were earned, but not regretted.

“She might be moving away at the end of summer.”

He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Might be?”

“She doesn’t know yet.”

He watched Eddie’s expression slacken to stark blankness again–face and posture wilting, weighed down by his fate–already resigning on a relationship he hadn’t yet given a chance. “Don’t you want to at least try? I mean, you never know. What if she–?”

“Don’t you think I’ve thought about that?” Eddie interrupted, growing annoyed at the topic and allowing it to seep into his temper. “Don’t you think I’ve sat here, day after day, and thought about it from all angles? Over, and over.” He became more animated as he spat out questions rapid-fire. “What if she stays? What if she leaves? What if things work out? What if they don’t? Do I deserve it even if it’s short term? Can I handle it when Adrie asks me why she’s not around anymore? Like, fuck. It’s all I think about. Constantly! Just again, and again. She could move back to New York and live her accomplished life without ever giving me another thought, but what if she doesn’t want to go back? What if she wants to stick around? What if she wants to work with me at the garage forever, and we get married, and buy a small house with a white picket fence, and live out our textbook dream together with 2.5 kids and a dog. Who knows!” Done ranting, Eddie ended it in a full bodied shrug, and collapsed into the cushions, releasing the most cathartic, yet dramatic sigh Wayne had ever heard. “She’s all I think about. Drives me insane.”

Wayne held out the pack of Camels to him, but it was rejected in a limp wave.

“I..” Eddie’s mouth hinged on the words, bottom lip quivering as the questions he posed washed over him as an exhausted, watery-eyed truth, “I didn’t even realize how bad the stress had gotten until she just..” He motioned. “Fixed it.”

Acknowledging the bitter reality, Wayne nodded. “You are much nicer to be around since you two started hanging out.. Adrie sees it, too.”

Not that Eddie meant to be an asshole, but after grueling hours of hard labor, he had little tolerance for the arguments before bath time, or the meltdowns before school. Months prior, he was alongside his daughter, crying harder than she did when the smallest inconvenience set her off, ending with both of them huddled on the floor; one of them screaming to be understood, and the other in a hopeless heap of a man who reduced himself to a shitty father who couldn’t do anything right, drowning under the pressure, anxiety, responsibility to not fuck up again.

Now, he was able to swim to the sun glimmering on the surface.

Wayne landed his rough palm atop Eddie’s untamed bedhead, and soothed him, “You should give yourself a chance at something great. I’ll be here to pick up the pieces if it doesn’t work out.”

Eddie sniffed, and wrung his lips to the side. “You gonna pick up Adrie’s pieces too?” he asked softly.

“I will, son.” Despite the rocky times in their relationship–the slammed doors, the yelling matches, the coming home with a newborn and no money to afford baby formula–Wayne promised him, “Whatever it takes to make you happy. I’ll do it.”

The egg timer in the kitchen dinged.

“Breakfast’s ready,” he grunted, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray, and giving the quick-nod-with-a-flattened-smile older men were known for after confiding in one another, and he went inside.

There wasn’t much time for Eddie to process the weight of his internal decision before Adrie was climbing onto the loveseat. And if she noticed she left a trail of mud up his pant’s leg on her way to kneeling beside him, she didn’t care. All that mattered was her icicle skin melting in the warmth of his heavy arm wrapped around her middle; and effortlessly, she fell into the comfort of his embrace while working her hands beneath his hair, untucking it from his jacket’s collar, and hugging him back.

Eddie stashed the card in his pocket, and grabbed the unicorn by the back of its head, putting the nose to her cheek and pretending it was giving her kisses. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, pulling strands of his curls around her fingers while her cold nose was pressed to his throat. “Can Miss Mouse come over to play?”

“Not today. She’s busy with her own celebrations.”

It was weird how calmly he could answer her. No twisted tongue sitting in his mouth like lead, no tensed stomach from an assault of nerves, no racing thoughts of you and Adrie becoming too close before he was ready to disappoint her. The fear was still there, of course. But he didn’t dread it. He held his daughter tucked against his body, and whispered into the unruly hair she inherited, “But she will soon, okay?”

“Yay!” She showed her excitement by constricting her arms around him in a perfect vice.

He wedged the unicorn between them and scooped her onto his hip. “What say you, Princess Adrienne? Shall we go in for a bit of Christmas morning casserole, and partake in reindeer games after getting you into your winter attire? Hmm?” She wasn’t responding. “Adrie?”

Her mouth was hung open, and her hand out, palm turned upward, making a grabby motion at something over his shoulder.

Eddie listened to her, and turned.

Snow fell, fell, fell from the low hanging clouds smudging the sky in shades of gray, bestowing the trailer park with fat flakes drifting beyond the safety of the porch, melting onto the dead grass and brushing past his car’s mirror. Pretty, pretty things of childlike magic Adrie caught on her fingertips. Special things floating to the edge of the wobbly floorboards, and sticking to his hair for her to laugh at.

“I love you,” he said in a kiss to her bitter cold cheek.

“Love you too, Daddy,” she replied in the same fashion, with an additional kiss from the unicorn to the tip of his nose.

Doors around the trailer park opened. Wide eyes of wonder gazed up, and around, searching for friends to celebrate with. Eddie felt exposed in his all black outfit against the growing landscape of white. They were looking at him. Judging him. Munson. But, unlike any other day, the desire to bolt from their intrusive stares dwindled with each graze of his thumb over the card in his pocket.

[delic7te]

lazy sunday × ( tasm ! ) peter parker

— peter parker x reader

— summary : you and peter wake up from a nap

— A/N: missed writing:) this has been sitting in my drafts and i wrote this cause i'm stressed (regular sunday)

After a long, hard week of constant studying and always being out somewhere in a rush, the weekend finally arrived and you and your boyfriend could spend time together, peacefully in the comfort of each others arms.

There was no pressure as you both finished all your college classes and work and Peter came home after regular patrol over the city. Only gloomy weather outside, a candle and lamp burning on the coffee table and a book in your hands as you drape your legs over Peter's lap, head resting on his shoulder in the living room of his apartment, tangled together on his couch.

Previously, you started explaining him the plot of the interesting book you were currently reading because he knew you loved doing that, and he loved listening to you talk about whatever was on your mind. As you continued reading he tried doing the same but eventually dozed off with his hand over your shoulder, his head above yours. You were too preoccupied by the book to notice, but eventually the calm surroundings had your eyelids start feeling heavy and the words on the pages began merging together. Sleep slowly reached you aswell, as you gave in.

Peter's hair fell over your forehead, leaning into each other comfortably as you slept in peace.

It was already dark outside when you woke up from your nap, confused but still comfortable and half asleep. That was until you saw what time it was on the clock by the television, suddenly snapping back to reality.

Your head rose from Peter's chest abruptly, the movement pulling him to consciousness. His hand searched for you, turning to the side with closed eyes.

"Hmh?" He mumbled your name when he saw you sitting up, visibly dissapointed and stretching your arms.

"We were asleep for three hours" you yawn. "I could've got so much stuff done. Like read this" you pick up the book that fell forgotten during your slumber. "Now I won't have time."

Peter sat up too, smiling despite your complaints. He looked like he just had the best sleep of his life.

"Aww", he cooes, "don't be upset. It's Sunday. What else were we to do?" He kisses your hand, his lips soft on your skin.

You weren't pleased with his excuses. "Not helping", you whine, preparing to crawl out of the cushions and stand up but Peter disapproved. He mumbles something, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you back on the couch.

"No, not yet, learn to enjoy the moment", he lectures you. "You'll survive, believe me, for Christ sake."

This makes a laugh slip out of you suddenly, although still annoyed. Now that you thought about it, it actually wasn't so bad at all.

Your hand finds its path to his cheek, leaning down to kiss his nose before placing your head on his chest. He looked stunning, messy brown hair and big dark eyes. It was a weakness of yours.

"Sundays are actually stressful", you state with a sigh, burying your face into his sweatshirt.

"I don't think they're so bad." His fingers run through your silky hair.

"Yeah, 'cause you're a lazy ass."

He pretends to be offended by that comment, frowning and dropping his jaw. "That's mean."

"I mean, all you wanna do is snore and sleep all day, dragging me with you and passing your laziness on me", you roll yours eyes jokingly, hugging his waist.

"Guilty as charged, can you blame me?" He looks down on you and as you look up at him with a smile, he swore his heart stopped beating for a moment. You appeared as a godess before his eyes.

"And also", he shakes his head slightly, "since when do I snore ?"

You giggle, putting your hands over your face, causing his cheeks to go burgundy red. He just wanted to kiss you right now and never stop.

"Maybe you got too comfortable, I don't know." You were amused by his slight embarrassment, feeling strong fondness for him in that moment.

"You're mean, I'm not napping with you anymore", he looks away from you, trying to appear nonchalant but still joking around.

"Yes, do me that favor."

That sentence felt like a slap as he glared at you, knowing he should step up his game now, not let you win.

But you seemed to be having a lot of fun now, all the worry from earlier brushed off, laughing and enjoying yourself. After all, that was all he cared about. Just you being happy as you deserve.

"If that's what you really want, I'll manage somehow", he shrugs giving you the fake-sad doe-eyed look. That actually did the trick, unintentionally.

"No, I would never", you let go, taking his hand in yours as you sat up a little. You fiddle with his slender, pale fingers. "I had a good rest."

Peter was satisfied, admiring you under the weak lamp light. "Me too", he confirms, a wide grin on his face, stroking your hair. "And I just guilt-tripped you."

You scoff, lightly punching his shoulder as he laughs. You take a second to observe him. A strange feeling of gratitude flooded over you, feeling lucky to have him as your boyfriend.

You shake your head. "I don't care" You place your hands on each side of his face, bringing your lips to his, capturing them in a loving kiss.

Peter melted instantly, putty in your hands. He let's out a small sound against your mouth. A few moments after, you pull away to catch your breath.

His lips stretch into a smug smile. "I love Sundays."

[deedah]

”Nightmares..”

[Roxy]=True]

⚠️⚠️WARNING!⚠️⚠️

THIS FANFIC INCLUDES

-TRAMA

-MENTION OF K!//ING THEMSELVES

-FLUFF

Ships!- (NUzi) (Soxy) (Voxy) (F x JC)

Word count- 1678

Roxy belongs to- @roxy4life

Serial Designation S belongs to- @biscuits-and-such

Lexi belongs to- @locothewolf

G-O belongs to- @serial-designation-g-o / @glorious-owl

Serial Designation F and JC belong to me- @deedah

Cynthia from the Second Chances AU belongs to- @coppernuggets

(To give context for this fanfic was a request and is placed in an AU. Uzi, N, and V now save other drones that are lost in space due to their own planet being blown up, and all the oc’s above are a part of that group that were saved. So yes, this does take place after ep. 8 and they are still on copper-9. How copper-9 got fixed? Idk)

    Roxy sat up straight as quick as she could as she awoke from another nightmare. She was sweating as she looked down at her hands to make sure she was alright.

    Gosh dang it!! Her mind yelled as she lightly pushed her legs that were under the covers. She looked to her side to see S spilled out all over the bed with one of her arms loosely holding onto Roxy. She didn’t want to wake S, so she slowly got out of the bed as she went immediately to a mirror to look at herself.

    Roxy had half red hair and half blue hair that was styled a little like Uzi’s, but a bit fluffier and messier. She wore a blue tinted scrub (like Nori’s dress) with a choker around her neck and a black tank top under her scrub. She had two different colored eyes, her left eye purple while her right eye green.

    She looked down at her hands. After a while of staring at herself, she looked back to S.

    S had long white hair and had bangs a bit like V. She wore a small black bow clip in the front of her bangs. She wore a fluffy black jacket like V, but she had a name tag on it for some reason. She didn’t wear pants or a skirt because they ‘are uncomfortable and don’t help her to move at all’. And she also had black stockings up her thighs like V.

    Roxy smiled as she watched S’s chest slowly rise and fall due to her breathing. But she immediately stopped smiling when she remembered her fricken nightmare.

    Roxy tiptoed to the door of the room as she went out of it and slowly closed it. Roxy then went to all the rooms in the apartment building that they lived in to see if anyone was awake.

    In the first room, she found F and JC curled up together as they both slept. F had short white hair that was styled like Uzi’s and had two bangs that swooped back with a little hair that fell in the middle of her visor. She wore a cropped burgundy sweatshirt and tan shorts. She also has a pilot hat like N does, except hers doesn't have a symbol on it like N’s and gold-ish glasses that she had off right now. She did have point legs like V, but her legs were completely white for some reason

    (JC is just the concept boy version of J btw (yes I got lazy) But!! His legs are painted black up to his knees cause.. idk.. I like it :3)

    Roxy went to the next room to find N and Uzi sleeping on a bed together as Lexi slept on the floor.

    Lexi had very bright blue hair and eyes, and they also wore fake ears that almost matched their hair exactly. She wore a yellow shirt and grayish flared leggings with black shoes under them.

    And G-O was hanging upside down from the ceiling. G-O was a special type of drone, and even Roxy didn’t know what they fully were. They had a strange Cyn-like claw for their left hand, worker drone legs, and bird-like feet with 1990’s leg stockings over them. They had black hair and yellow eyes as well. They wore a dark green crop top with no pants and an arm band on them like every disassembly.

    Roxy closed the door as she heard commotion downstairs. It sounded like voices, but none she knew.

    Roxy slowly went into the living room as she turned the corner to see V watching TV. Roxy speculated if she should bother V or not. She then took a deep breath as she stepped out into the open as V turned her head towards her.

    “Roxy?” V asked quietly as Roxy took a step forward in the light. “What are you doing up at this hour? It’s nearly 3 am..!” V said as Roxy held her arm.

    “I-“ she started as she recalled her dream, no, nightmare, “I had a nightmare.. it’s stupid really, I’ll just go back and sleep with S..”

    Roxy said as she turned around to start to walk up the stairs as she held a pawed hand grab her.

(Yes Disassembly drones, in my AU, have pawed hands. Why? It’s cute!!)

    “No, Roxy..” V said as Roxy turned her head around. “You have said this before, these ‘nightmares’ are bad..” V explained as she slowly took Roxy by the hand and led her to the couch.

    V gently made Roxy sit beside her as she paused her show. “You have said that ever since you got the memory of your parents.. ya know..” she said as Roxy nodded, “You’ve had these nightmares, that won’t go away..” V said as Roxy looked down.

    V then cuffed her finger under Roxy’s chin as she lifted her head up.

    “Wanna stay down here with me?” She offered as Roxy, slowly, but immediately nodded.

    Roxy and V shuffled a little to where Roxy was laying her head on V’s chest and V was rubbing Roxy’s hair. It was peaceful for a minute, before a nose disturbed the moment.

    Roxy and V heard a clanging noise from the kitchen. And they both shot up as they saw white eyes under a flickering light.

    Once the light stopped flickering and stayed on constantly, Roxy saw that it was just Cynthia getting a cup of oil.

    “Oh.. Sorry..” she started as she pulled the mug of oil close to her body. “Did I interrupt y’all..?” She asked softly as she started to walk closer to the living room where the worker and disassembly was.

    Cynthia used to be the host of the Solver, until Uzi ate the singularity. Since then, Uzi was able to somehow eject the real Cyn who was stuck inside the Solver’s control. They then built her a body of old worker drone parts and led her on her way.

    She didn’t want to be called ‘Cyn’ anymore because of her messed up past, so she changed it to Cynthia.

    She had white eyes, blond hair what was in the same style as Cyn, but with shorter side pieces (idk how to describe it, help). She wore a burgundy beanie with a black bow in the back. She also somehow got Tessa’s old dress and sewed it back together. She normally wore red and pink tennis shoes with purple socks, but she had taken her shoes off for the night. Even though the Solver was no longer in control of Cynthia, she still had some old aspects of it, like she still slouched a lot of the time, and her head went to the side like a cat rather than straight up.

     Her memories are soup too, and she only clearly remembers the time before the solver took over. Though she does sometimes remember faintly about terrible things that the Solver did.. like the gala massacre.. and Tessa..

    “Oh, hey Cynthia..” V started as Roxy went to lay on her chest again as V resumed rubbing her hair, “no your fine,” V looked to Roxy as Cynthia pointed to her and gave a confused look.

    “Nightmares..” V stated as Cynthia nodded and sat beside Roxy as she started to rub their back. 

     “It’ll be ok, Roxy..” Cynthia said as Roxy went to look at her. “I’ve been through some nightmares as well. That's why I don’t sleep that well too..” she said as she looked and had an awkward smile on her face when V gave her a small death stare.

    “I’m just doing self pity right now..” Roxy mumbled in V’s chest.

    V immediately stopped rubbing Roxy’s hair, sat up straight, and grabbed Roxy’s cheeks as she held Roxy’s face in front of her own.

    “Roxy..!” V started as Cynthia had jumped away a bit to give room as Roxy went limp like a ragdoll. “This is not self pity! You saw your own parents die!” She stated as she brought Roxy into a tight bear hug on her chest.

    Roxy tried to fight back by lightly punching V, which did absolutely nothing. As she started to giggle.

     Roxy’s giggles kept coming louder and louder, even if they were kinda breathy.

    Even Cynthia started to giggle as she too wrapped her arms around Roxy’s waist from behind and started to hug her.

    “Ok, ok!” Roxy said muffled, “I get it!”

    “Say this is not self pity and I’ll let you go..” V commanded.

    “Ok! Fine! I am not in self pity..!” After Roxy said that, both V and Cynthia let her go.

    V and Roxy shared eye contact before Roxy turned around to meet Cynthia eye to eye.

    Cynthia’s right eye flashed to the white Solver symbol as she just smiled sweetly.

    Roxy just ignored the symbol as she just smiled back.

    “Wanna go to sleep girly..?” V suggested as Roxy nodded. Roxy curled up on V’s chest as Cynthia went to the blanket cupboard and grabbed out a big fluffy blanket and threw it atop Roxy and V.

    “Sleep well..” Cynthia mumbled as she was about to walk away. But then V’s tail wrapped around her wrist and slowly pulled her to V’s other side where she pretty much forced her little sister to sleep on her other side. A couple of minutes after everyone got settled, V started to slowly and softly sing eternal dream to the two young drones.

    Both Cynthia and V fell asleep before Roxy did. But before Roxy fell asleep, she looked up towards a window that was shattered to see beautiful stars in the night sky that were around one of the moons of Copper-9.

    Roxy then felt a peace she hadn’t felt since she was a babe.. a peace that you could only get for a moment nowadays, but it lasted a lifetime.

    And with that.. Roxy fell asleep to the thumping rhythm of V’s heart.Yeah.. Roxy thought before she dozed off, I’m surrounded by the best people..

[:D <3]=True]

(Btw meh fwiends, I gonna be gone the whole day cause I have to go to school, then I have to go to a sports game, srry, but I’ll be on as soon as I can get home)

[360iris]

good days | vampire!steven grant x reader (feat. jake lockley & marc spector)

please read all of the following warnings before reading!

2.7k word count // this fic includes: the drawing, oral ingestion and consistent mention of blood, the breaking of skin, cum eating, afab!reader, PnV intercourse, assisted handjob. Feel free to notify me if there is anything missed!

credit for fic idea goes to @melodygatesauthor & @welcometostayingawake // co-written by @melodygatesauthor // tagging @in-between-the-cafes for all the vamp boy goodness, hope you like it!!

Fridays are typically relaxing. Easy days spent tucked in on the couch with your nose practically pressed to the screen of your phone until it’s time for Steven to come home from work at the Museum.

Today you’d noticed the day had taken more out of him than usual, or perhaps he’d already been running low before he’d even left out. Either way the second he comes home you know he’s going to need more than a little tender love and care.

You can see it in the way he drags his feet, sags his shoulders forward and blinks back at you so blearily whenever he’s asked a question. He’s thoroughly exhausted and miserable.

“Was work difficult today, honey?” You ask quietly, watching as he wordlessly settles in beside you on the plush burgundy cushions. Pulling the covers up just enough to get under them himself before cuddling as close to you as he physically could without forcing you to move into his lap.

“My boss is a right B-word.” He mumbles softly making you chuckle as he rests his forehead against your left shoulder. Eyes closed, his arms reaching around your waist and resting there.

“What has Big D said now?” You ask amusedly, bringing your left hand up to lace your fingers in his curls. He leans into your touch, nuzzling further against you.

“I don’t want to talk about it if that’s okay.” He answers back politely.

“Of course it is, honey.” You’ve set down your phone, nuzzling back into him as well.

Steven is never warm temperature wise, his body hasn’t generated heat in years— the change made sure of that, and the difference in his touch is stark from what it was beforehand. So his fingers make you jolt an inch when they begin sneaking underneath your sweatshirt.

His progression promptly halting when you jump, stalling for a moment as he waits, undoubtedly listening to your heartbeat and waiting for it to even out before continuing.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Your voice comes out airy and a touch warbled as his fingers fan out against your skin. Wide palms finding their way under your top and massaging your waist.

He remains quiet in response, shaking his head as he continues leaning against your shoulder.

His hands instead begin edging upward, slow, languid and firm as he takes his time just feeling you. He knows what he’s doing, purposefully building up your need for him and inciting anticipation.

Enjoying the way your heart begins picking up speed and the low surge of your blood rushing in the veins beneath your skin.

It’s only when he reaches your breasts, fidgeting with and pinching your nipples in a very stop-and-go manner, that you finally realize this is a game to him. One of waiting, listening and denying. Delaying both your satisfaction and his own, like an infuriating little tease.

You honestly didn’t think he’d go this route, drawing out both your pleasure and his just because he can. Racking your brain, you search for the quickest and fail safe way to get him to speed up, to get to the main course instead of lingering on foreplay.

“Do you want to bite me, Steven?” You ask innocently enough, but it still causes his movements to stop all together. His hands remove themselves from you entirely as he picks up his head.

Steven doesn’t feed on you often, getting his daily blood consumption instead from blood packs (Marc has a guy who supplies him with them, and apparently it’s a whole thing that’s either very simple or extremely convoluted but you can never decide which was the case.)

His eyes become wide at the proposal, settling on yours and really looking to better gauge you.

“Really, love? You’d allow me?” He asks moving to clasp your hands in his. “You really don’t have to, you know how I get. Tend to be a bit of a nightmare, don’t I?”

“It’s never anything I can’t handle. Besides, Jake pushes me way harder than you ever do.” You mumble as he begins tracing the outline of your neck with his eyes before looking back up at you.

“Well that’s not a good thing, is it?” He says squeezing your hands protectively but you pull them back to bring your sweatshirt over your head.

“I want you to bite me, Steven. I can handle it, I’m a big girl.” The material gets tossed absentmindedly to the floor. “So. Bite. Me.”

He scoots forward, moving what little hair obstructs his go-to spot to bite before moving in closer. “I know that.” He murmurs, ducking his head down to the juncture of your neck.

His right hand settles at your hip, the other grasping the left side of your neck to keep you still.

“Just a sharp prick and then it’s done.” He cautions you the same way he always does, kissing the spot tenderly before opening his mouth wide. And from your proximity, you hear the exact moment his fangs pop into place. The soft and almost inaudible wet click of his top canines extending.

The tips of his fangs are sharper than needles, thin, exacting and precise. And though technically all the boys share the same mouth, with the same teeth, none of them bite alike. Each somehow making the initial sinking into the skin of your neck feel different from the others.

Steven always starts out slow, edging in until he hits the right artery and savoring the first mouthful with tentative lips. But it just gets messier from there on out as the feeding frenzy kicks in.

He begins breathing heavier through his nose by the third inhale of plasma, his hand on your hip tightening as he all but moans into your neck.

The older man releases a long and needful wail against your skin, and that’s when you know he’s been overtaken by his relatively newfound primal urges. His thinking mind clouding over as he does the one function his body has adapted to do.

Once Jake had described to you what it felt like to feed and his words have been seared into your mind ever since.

You’d spent the entire day curled up in bed with the worst cramps you’d experienced in months, and with his help, had managed to limp into the bath he’d drawn for you.

“Fucking carnal.” He’d admitted quietly, squeezing a pink dollop of shower gel onto your loofa before working the suds across your back as you rested your left cheek pitifully against your knees.

“How so?” You asked curiously. And you remember the way he paused, taking a moment to lick his lips as he thought on it further. The action causes your cunt to clench as you watch him, hugging your knees closer just as his penetrating gaze flickers back to your face.

It always felt like he could read you as easily as words on a page, but he simply goes back to washing your back, edging towards the nape of your neck in tight circular motions.

“Imagine the most turned on you’ve ever been. When you’ve just reached the height of it, and you’re getting to the best part. Can you think of it?” He speaks lowly, sensually almost, as he moves to wash your right arm.

It takes you a second to get the thought, but he waits until you give a nod of your head before continuing.

“Think of the exact moment you know you’re getting worked up to cum. Where you know there’s nothing you can do but allow yourself to continue getting built up. You’re going up, and up, and up until you reach the edge, and you fall.”

You’re looking at him entranced, holding your breath as he describes it.

“Feeding isn’t the build up, or the realization that you can’t go back. It’s the freefall, the entire way through. You’re just.. blinded, with pleasure.”

His eyes flicker to yours again, darting down to the way your mouth is parted slightly in awe. “What?”

“That’s beautiful.” You answer truthfully but he laughs heartily.

“Beautiful?” He laughs again. “Sure.”

Your blood is coating Steven’s lips, dripping down his chin and lining his throat as he sucks hungrily. And the hand he had on your neck has begun wandering, palming down the thin white spaghetti strap shirt you’re wearing and easily slipping underneath.

And this time you don’t flinch when his fingers touch your skin, cool and just as equally bracing as they were before. You’re too overheated for that.

The coolness is welcome as you bring your hands up to grasp at his broad shoulders. Not attempting to stop him but just better anchor yourself because you feel like you’re floating and it’s just as equally pleasurable as it is scary— no matter how familiar you try to become with it.

He’s begun rutting his clothed cock against the softness of your thigh, panting into your skin desperately as he drinks deeply.

The sounds he’s making are filthy and utterly obscene and they fill the room by the minute. Easily drowning out your languid whimpers and garbled whines.

When he pulls back he’s dazed, on cloud nine and going higher as his mouth painted red opens wide when he gasps in a deep and greedy inhale.

Finally able to get a decent look at him you’re able to see how messy an eater he is— teeth, lips, chin and throat thoroughly dyed with your blood as he closed-eye smiles dopily.

It’s a sight that should be alarming and wholly disconcerting.

You should want to run, hide, scream. Any normal person would. But instead your stomach gives a leap as you weakly clench your thighs together to alleviate the throbbing between your legs.

Steven leans forward again, but rather than go in for more he licks a wide and hungry stripe against the puncture marks before working his way up your neck, to your lips.

His eyes are open as he leans forward to kiss you and you hold his gaze right up until the taste of your own plasma hits your tongue and you’re swarmed with the metallic taste.

He kisses you passionately, needily. Quickly drawing your attention away from the liquidized iron and more towards the feeling of his body against your own.

He’s revitalized, energetic and firm as you melt against him— pliant and shapeable beneath his hands. The perfect apex predator and his more than willing prey.

You give yourself over to him wholly, mind not even fully registering the faint clinking until he breaks the kiss to unzip his jeans.

His movements are clumsy as he retrieves his cock from his pants, his knuckles bumping against your thigh and arm before he finally grabs ahold of your left hand.

Bringing your motionless hand to his length, he wraps it around himself until you’re fisting him to the best of your ability. “I know you’re tired, love. I know, but I just need— I really need to feel you. Can I feel you? Will you make me cum, sweetheart?”

And he asks so nicely, so sweetly and you’re so in love with him already that you can’t help but nod weakly. Allowing his hand to close around yours before beginning to fuck your hand with uncoordinated thrusts.

“S- So good. You feel so good, I knew you would. I knew you would feel this good.” He babbles nonsensically and you keep your eyes on him the entire way through. Watching as his head bobs this way and that, like he’s drunk. His eyes closed one second and open the next as he moans shamelessly.

You liked seeing Steven like this, you knew he deserved to just forget things for a while. Everything didn’t have to be so serious all the time, it was okay to allow himself to just be once in a while.

Precum leaks from the dark red head of his cock as it coated your fingers, making the slide of your hand and his foreskin easier as he chased his high.

“You gonna cum, pretty boy? Hm? You gonna cum for me, honey? Paint my hand white?” You asked sweetly, putting a little more energy into your grip as he jerks his hips incessantly.

He stutters, not just his words but his whole body gives a shutter when you speak. His eyes rolling back as he begins nodding his head eagerly, feverishly. “F- Fuck. Yes, yes, yes. Gonna cum for you.”

“Good boy, I think you should. Fucking my hand like it’s my pussy because it’s so good. It’s a shame you’re not fucking me like that though. Don’t you think?”

“I could, I could!” He blubbers, unable to stop the movements of his hips. “I could fuck you.”

You hum disappointedly, shaking your head. “I don’t think you could, baby. You’re so close to cumming already. And you already promised to finish on my hand. Didn’t you promise me that?”

He gives a desperate nod, his forehead falling to rest on your shoulder. “I did, I’m gonna—“ and before he can finish his sentence he’s coming long and hard against your hand. Borderline sobbing into your ear as he shakes and jolts.

When he brings his head up, he’s a bit bleary. His forehead coated with a thin layer of sweat causing his dark curls to stick to his skin.

You bring your right hand up to his face, pushing and combing back his damp hair with your fingers. Holding his eye, you bring your other hand up, presenting your cum coated digits to his mouth and watching transfixed as he licks them clean.

Within an instant he’s got you on your back, his movements quick and in fluid succession as he kisses your skin, pushing your lounging shorts and underwear aside— he lines up with your entrance, his eyes drawing up to your face searchingly and needy before you catch his meaning.

Your head gives a rushed nod and he’s looking down once more, rubbing his tip through your folds, taking the time to coat you with himself before pushing forward.

He adjusts your legs as he’s sliding into you, his broad hands grasping underneath your thighs and hauling both of your legs up to fold you in half in front of him. The change in angle wretches a moan from deep in your throat as he positions you like his own personal sex toy.

His cock is thick and unrelenting, demanding all of your focus be placed in relaxing your muscles as he starts thrusting slow but firmly.

Setting into a rhythm, he pulls the hem of your top up until it’s bunched at your collar, your chest on display as his mouth descends greedily.

The proximity of his fangs to your skin makes you dizzy, and though he doesn’t make a move to bite— settling for mouthing and licking at the soft mounds, the sight alone makes your eyes roll back as he thrusts forward and hits your gspot square on.

“Steven! Oh- Steven, there. Right there.”

Lips wrapped around your left nipple, his hands hold your lower half still before he focuses his hectic movements as best he can. The pressure sending tears to your eyes as all the words get caught in your throat, leaving you so that all you can do is utter low shrieks and moans.

Angling his thumb over your clit, he begins rubbing against it rigidly. The slight pressure you feel at your neck as his fangs press into your skin is the final straw, and luckily you can’t move an inch under his weight because you jolt violently as he gives a single suck before pulling away.

Mouth red as he moans into your shoulder, spilling inside of you in warm jets, he holds you securely underneath him.

Wrapping your arms around his back, you lace your fingers into his hair as you attempt to steady your breathing. His sweaty forehead slumping further just enough to meet the fabric of the couch before he stiffens.

Releasing a sharp hiss, his leg twitches and he’s regaining his bearings before pushing himself up to look at you.

“Steven?” Comes out through deep breaths, although you recognize the knitted brows and lucid eyes instantly. Marc.

Bringing a hand up from your thigh, he brushes his fingers against his lips and looks at the pads dampened red before staring up at where the wall meets the ceiling.

Taking a moment to listen before looking down at you, he gives a shake of his head. “He fell asleep.” And you’re huffing out an equally tired but amused laugh.

[shyfoxsky]

Just found an old sweatshirt I have in my closet at my parents' house. It's burgundy/maroon with a wolf pawprint over the heart and a red wolf with "CANIS RUFUS" on the back. I'd forgotten I had it, and it's one of the best fully subtle pieces of gear I own. I've had ears and tails and I wear my therian symbol necklace everyday, but I don't have many things I consider gear that are completely unreadable as gear unless you know I'm a therian, and even less I'd still wear today. Very cool find. I might start wearing it again.

[braveclementine]

October 25: Biting (Damon Salvatore)❤️

Warnings: 18+ readers only, Biting, near death

Copyright: I do not own this sexy man named Damon Salvatore or any other TVD/TO/Legacies characters. I also do not condone any copying of this.

"Damon?" You called as you stepped into the Salvatore Boarding House. You walked into the living room, setting your purse and one shopping bag down on the lavish sofa in the room. The fireplace had gone out- unless it had never been lit- and it made the house a little colder.

Frost glazed over all the windows as the snow fell outside. You took off your purple scarf and winter jacket, hanging them both up on the racks in the front hallway by the door. Taking off your purple hat with a white pompom on it, you set it down by the table with matching purple gloves.

"Damon?" You called again, this time a little louder. You stomped your feet on the rug, before slipping off the boots and then headed down the front hallway in your stocking feet.

"Damon?" You called up the stairs, fear starting to pound in your heart. Damon usually told you if he was going to go out, so that you weren't worried when you got home. The silence of the house unnerved you. Even on the off chance that Damon didn't send you a text, his brother Stefan or one of Stefan's girlfriends- either Caroline or Elena depending on the mood- was home.

You stopped at the top of the stairs. The house was dead silent.

No. . . wait. . .

You turned towards the closed door of which was Stefan's room.

"Stefan?" You asked uncertainly, moving towards the door.

There was a grunt, one more of pain than anything else, but nothing more.

"Stefan, are you alright?" You asked, before the door was opened a crack.

You recognized Stefan's dark eyes peering out from behind the crack, before he opened it a little more. He left the door slightly ajar, standing in front of the entrance so that you couldn't see into the room.

"Hello Y/N."

You frowned. Did he sound. . . different?

"Do you know where Damon is?" You asked, slipping your hands into the pockets of the fleece sweatshirt you had been wearing underneath the winter jacket. You shifted uncomfortably on your feet.

His hand moved and your eyes darted down to see him holding a wooden stake that was lathered with blood. Small red drips fell from the end of the stake and onto the floor.

Your eyes darted back up to Stefan and you took a step back. "Stefan. . . where is Damon?"

Stefan chuckled and you were suddenly vividly aware that his humanity switch was off. What had he done? Why had he done it? Why was his switch off in the first place. . . he had been fine yesterday.

"Damon got in the way of something, so I had to. . . take care of him." Stefan said, stepping forwards.

"Stefan, please." You said, but your voice sounded more of a warning than a plea. "Damon is your brother and he's my boyfriend-"

"Stop backing away Y/N. You know if I wanted to catch you I could." Stefan said, eyes narrowing. "I don't want to kill you."

Suddenly, arms locked around Stefan's neck and Damon threw him back into the room, panting. He looked over at you and you could see that tatters of his clothes, where he had been stabbed, and the blood that had poured from his body.

"Da-!"

"Run." Damon said, interrupting you as he caught Stefan's arm that tried to drive the stake through the shoulder.

You didn't have to be told twice. You sprinted down the stairs, yanking your purse off the couch as you passed by it. You didn't grab you coat, shoving your feet into your shoes and rushing out the door, which slammed behind you.

You did your best to run across the icy path, yanking open the door of your burgundy red pick up truck, slamming the door behind you. You didn't even bother with the seat belt, jamming the key into the ignition and backing out the driveway. You pulled out quickly, making a sharp turn that you didn't even know your large truck could do.

You sped down the road- which was empty and ice covered at the moment- before your hand started groping around your purse, trying to find your phone without taking your eyes off the road.

You finally grasped the flat object, before holding it up to your mouth and said "Siri, call Elijah Mikelson."

Elijah was your best friend. You had been good friends for about eight years, when you had vacationed in New Orleans. You had already known about Vampires and all of that stuff, and was actually trying to find a cure for Elizabeth's Cancer from the witches. There wasn't anything, but you'd run into some dangerous Vampires. Elijah had saved you.

From that moment on, you were best friends. You could converse with him on an intellectual level, being a med student and avid reader. You and Klaus didn't get along as much, although if you did talk about art, you two could get along. Kol liked you better, especially as you both loved to garden.

At the moment, the Mikelson family was residing in Mystic Falls, Klaus was trying to find a lead for something you didn't really care about, and the others had accompanied him.

You were hoping that Elijah could help you with Stefan, since Damon was weaker at the moment.

"Y/N, what can I do for you?" Elijah's voice was always polite and sincere.

"Elijah, Stefan's humanity switch is off. I don't know if he's trying to kill Damon, but he's after me. I'm driving to your house right now, are you there?" You gasped frantically into the phone as you made a right turn.

"Where are you?" Elijah's polite voice turned slightly harder.

"I'm about to cross Wickery Bridge in four minutes, maybe less." You said.

"I'll be there in a few minutes, just keep driving." Elijah commanded. "Stay on the line with me."

"Okay." You whispered.

You lowered the phone into your lap so that you could keep both hands on the steering wheel. You felt comfortable in the big truck, as it had gotten you through quite a few accidents- none of them being your fault.

You could see Wickery Bridge up ahead and you slowed down just a little. You didn't want to skid on the ice and get sent over the side, that wouldn't do.

Your tires did slide a little as they crossed the bridge, but only enough for you to suck in your breath and slow down just a little more. Luckily, the bridge wasn't long and you kept your eyes on the destination.

"I'm almost there." Elijah murmured.

Suddenly, something slammed into the side of your truck, making it fly into the air. You screamed, throwing your hands up as you flew upwards towards the roof. Only now, you remembered that you hadn't put your seat belt on.

"Y/N!" Elijah's frantic voice shouted through the speaker of your phone, but it went flying towards the second row of the truck as you spun in mid-air.

You waited for the truck to crash back onto the road, effectively denting the roof towards your body. Your hands frantically found the steering wheel again as you were slammed against the windshield next, before you fell back into your seat.

You grappled with the seatbelt, slamming it into place and pulling it tight as red covered the vision of your right eye.

All of this happened in a matter of seconds, before you heard a deep plunging sound.

"Y/N!" Elijah's voice was shouting again, but you had lost your voice as you stared at the water surrounding all of the windows of the car.

"Shit." You cursed finally, undoing the seat belt.

You pushed against the door of the car, but the river wasn't running the right way and it pushed the opposite way, making it impossible to open.

Freezing cold water was spilling in through the cracks around the doors, making you shiver. The back pane had several thick cracks in it as well, and the force of the water shattered the glass as water started to rush in.

"Y-" Your phone was swept up in the river current.

You climbed over to the passenger seat, hoping that the current of water would work in your favor, when Stefan appeared in front of that door, grinning.

You shrieked, scurrying backwards into the drivers seat. He raised the stake in hand, blood washed from it now, and slammed it into the passenger window. It shattered under the force, but before he could get into the truck, a fast blur rammed him away from the car.

You quickly took a deep breath, before throwing yourself out that window and into the freezing water.

You quickly upwards, towards the surface, and found that the river was mostly frozen over. You desperately made it to where the truck had created a huge hole in the ice, grabbing the edge of the ice to pull yourself out of it.

You flopped on the ice, shaking and shivering. The edges of your fingers were already turning blue and you knew you needed to get in front of a fire very, very soon or you were going to lose your fingers.

Would vampire blood make them grow back?

You scrambled to your feet as the ice started to crumble below you and sprinted towards the other side. It broke before you could make it, but you had reached where it was shallow enough so that you could walk out of the lake.

You staggered over to the bridge, wondering how the heck you were going to get somewhere warm.

Suddenly, a figure was thrown out of the water, landing rather uncomfortably on the wooden bridge.

Stefan got to his feet, eyes wild with thick veins popping up around them.

Elijah was suddenly on the bridge too, water dripping from his nine thousand dollar suit. He stood in front of you, his back to you.

The Original vampire was a fierce opponent and Stefan didn't seem to realize it would be very hard to beat him.

Elijah snapped his neck effectively as Stefan lunged for him, before turning to you. He was immediately right in front of you. "Are you alright?"

"I'm alright." You replied shakily. "But Damon-"

"Yes, let's get you back to the boarding house." Elijah said, opening his arms.

You let him hold you, before he was racing back to the boarding house with vampiric speed. You turned your head away from the fierce wind, curling up into him for as much warmth as possible with the both of you soaking wet.

Within three or so minutes- a trip which had taken you ten in your car- Elijah was at the entrance of the boarding house, letting himself in and shutting the door behind you.

He set you down on the sofa, lighting the fireplace quickly, before he was out of the room.

Only moments later, he was bringing Damon downstairs, setting him down on the sofa opposite you, along with a change of clothes for you, setting those down on the coffee table between the sofas.

He turned back to you. "He's alright. He'll be awake soon, completely healed."

"G-g-g-g-ood." You chattered with freezing teeth.

Elijah came back over to you, helping you take off your clothes, before helping you into the warmer clothes, before he wrapped a blanket tightly around you.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Elijah said, eyes darting across your face.

"Head hurts." You admitted. "And before I went out the water, I had blood running down my face."

Elijah bit into his wrist, putting the blood into a bourbon glass. "Here, this will help."

"Thank you Elijah." You said before downing the blood with a grimace.

Elijah nodded. He stayed with both you and Damon even after he woke up. He had called Klaus and Kol and they were going to go after Stefan's body and your truck. They'd keep him away from the boarding house until they figured out what was wrong with him.

It wasn't until Damon was fully healed with the vervain out of his system that Elijah finally left. And you and Damon went upstairs to recover together.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Two months had passed and Stefan was back to normal. He and Caroline had decided to go on a sort of vacation and the two of you had the boarding house to yourselves.

Which you had been using to your advantage.

At the moment, the both of you were laying rather naked in the bed. You had just come down from a steamy session of sex, and now you were laying in his warm arms. Damon was brushing curls back from your cheek, staring at you lovingly as you curled into him. Meanwhile, a blizzard ensured around you two, hail hitting the windows, trees blowing fiercely, and you were sure there would be at least a foot of snow by tomorrow morning.

"Kitten?" Damon asked softly, fingers tracing light shapes on your arms.

"Dae?"

"Would you blood share with me?"

You peeked one eye open. "I thought that was a very very special bonding sort of thing between mates? Are you sure that its alright?"

"Yes." Damon said. "I mean, if you're okay with it. It's kind've like the equivalent of a human. . . mm engagement."

You smiled. "Then. . . if you're positive, yes, I would like that."

Damon's lit up smile was worth the words and you watched and felt as he lowered his mouth to your neck. The feeling of his fangs penetrating your neck always stung a little, before it felt like a soothing sort of pain.

His trailed his fangs lightly down your collarbone and across your breast, biting between the valley of the peaked mounds. His tongue licked over the spot in a soothing way, before he left another one on either side of your hips, and two more, one on each thigh.

He teasingly trailed his tongue back up, connecting all of the hickies, before moving to the other side of your neck. He stayed there a little longer, tasting your blood, letting it enter his veins.

You gasped when he pulled away, and he licked your blood off of his lips. He pulled you into his arms, spinning you around so that you could see the dark marks on your body in the mirror.

"Look how beautiful you are." He whispered, nipping at the skin beneath your ear. "Your turn."

You turned to face him, unsure exactly of what to do, and whether your teeth would even break his flesh- you were not a vampire.

You gently nibbled on his neck first, before you dared bite him. He let out a soft moan as you sucked his blood from the wound on his neck. Your tongue soothed the spot, before you moved lower. You left a series of small bites across his ab filled chest, before he bit his own wrist to let you feed from it.

A soft glow seemed to surround the two of you- but it could've just been the halo of the sun setting behind you through the window.

Damon pulled you back up for a kiss, nibbling at your bottom lip. You could taste only blood and love, and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth.

"I love you Y/N."

"I love you Damon."

"Be mine."

"Of course."

-------

No idea if this is good or not. I tried. I have no experience with a biting kink tho or even read anything about them

[gretavanbear]

Silver.

Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

18+ ONLY! This one shot is strictly smut.

[warnings : mean jake, dominant jake, spanking, hurting(??), degrading, cockwarming, edging, oral (m & f) aaaand just SMUT!]

2.1k words.

Summary: You surprise Jake with a new accessory.

“I got you something.” 

“Oh did you?” His right eyebrow rose as he spun his chair around. He was so focused on his notes, most likely lyrics, you were surprised he heard you. You loved that about him; how entangled he was in his work. 

You held the tiny black box in your hands, the little red satin bow wrapped around it nearly. You needed it to be perfect, so you had wrapped it yourself at least three times. Perfecting each bow with every try. You knew he wouldn’t even care about the bow, but for him, you’d do anything. 

You walked over to him, and he placed his hands on his thighs, tapping the material to a rhythm of a song you’ve definitely heard before. He looked up at you with those beautiful eyes, those long lashes making him look so feminine in a way that made your heart grow. His thighs were beautiful, thick. You loved sitting on them, straddling his lap, straddling his face. 

No, right now you needed him to discover what was in this little box. you needed to make him happy. He had been working so hard. 

“What's this, love?” his voice melted in your ears, and the excitement was becoming overbearing. 

You watch him closely as he slowly unties the satin ribbon, the same eyebrow raised in curiosity as he wraps his fingers around the cover and pulls it off. 

Inside reveals two silver rings. one with a ‘J’ on it, and one with a ‘K’. 

He looked up at you with those big brown eyes you love so much. A slight shimmer in his left eye made your heart race. And your clit twitch. 

“These are amazing, thank you darling. What’s the occasion?” He looked extremely good, even for staying at home and working. He wore a burgundy red button down shirt with some dark linen pants. Even on his comfy days, you couldn’t be more in love with him. How could he look so beautiful on an off day? There you were in your oversized hoodie- one of his. Though he didn’t know what you were wearing underneath it. 

“They’re… for fashion. and… accessorizing.” Your voice reeked nervousness. But you’ve wanted this. You knew he did too, deep down. 

“Accessorizing? Don’t you think I have enough rings?” He chuckled a little, which eased your nervousness a bit, but the way he was looking at you brought it right back. 

You sucked in a breath before answering him, the tension growing thick in this office. “no… accessorizing me. I want you to mark me.”

Your words made him flinch, and his eyes darkened. He slowly looked back down at the box, taking the rings out of it slowly and slipping them onto his right hand, his middle and ring finger. You thanked the gods to have gotten the right size- though you were pretty aware of how thick his fingers were from feeling them… in many different ways. 

“Bedroom. now.” His voice lowered an octave, and it was raspier. Oh, and you knew this was going to be good.

Once you arrived at your shared bedroom, you tore his sweatshirt off and laid out on the bed seductively, pushing out your hip a little so he’d notice the dark red lace barely covering your skin. You had picked this lingerie set a while ago, when you had found the perfect ribbon for that box- this set matched it accordingly. Around your upper thigh was the same ribbon, tied with a pretty little bow. It was all for him, you were his and you wanted him to make sure of it. 

Jacob marched into the bedroom at a faster pace, his loud footsteps making your spine tingle as you wondered what he was going to do to you. You wanted him to have all the control, and you knew he was going to take it. 

Once his brown eyes laid upon you, you felt as if your heart was going to explode. His entire aura exuded dominance and power. Fuck, you loved it. It felt as if the room had gone dark- as if his stare froze you in time and you couldn’t do anything else but obey his every order. He was already shirtless, and he looked so beautiful. 

“Get on the floor.” He barked out at you, pointing to the edge of the bed. You took a second to look at his shoulders, how strong they made him look. You followed his words and completed the task, on your knees in front of the bed. 

He sat down on the soft material of the black satin sheets- they were expensive and sleek. Soft and comfortable. But you weren’t focused on that, you were focused on the increasing tightness of his pants in front of your face. You looked up at him waiting for your next order, and his hands made their way in front of your face. 

His long, sleek fingers wrapped around the ring on his middle finger; rotating it so the initial was facing the inside of his hand, right above his palm. He did the same with the ring on his fourth finger.

Watching his hands so close made all the warmth of your body gather right between your legs. You wanted him to fix that for you, but right now- it wasn’t time. 

“Are you just going to stare at me?” He spoke with a harsh tone. Every word made your skin fill with goosebumps. 

“No, sir.” You squeaked out, and began undoing the bow holding his linen pants slowly. Pulling on the thread so softly. He watched your every move. You pulled down his pants and pulled his length out as it was hardening in your hand. You kissed it gently, your tongue softly licking his swelling tip as his mouth fell open above you. God, he was so pretty. His lips darkened as his cheeks reddened, waiting for you to make your next move. 

You held his cock in your hand, squeezing it gently and giving it a few strokes and watching him react softly, a curse making an appearance under his breath. 

You licked a long stripe from the bottom of his shaft, all the way to the tip. Wrapping your lips around him, you bobbed your head down and his fingers made their way behind your head; making a ponytail with his fist and helping you move your head up and down on him. 

“Was that what you were up to all week, hm? Being all sneaky.. telling me you were doing groceries. Fuck… All this time, you just wanted me to take care of you.” He breathed out as he moved your head a little more aggressively. You hummed in approval which sent vibrations all over his length- making him choke on a moan. 

He pulled your head off gently and helped you get up, then picking you up and throwing you down on the bed. He was getting aggressive and you liked it. You were facedown on the bed, your face in the sheets as he moved himself so he was behind you. 

Those beautiful long fingers of his hooked themselves in the band of the lace panties you had on, and he pulled them off quickly. He did not want to waste any time. 

“Don’t fucking move. I move you.” He said sternly, his lips kissing behind your thigh, slowly traveling its way up to your ass. With his other hand, he allowed his fingers to dip in your inner thigh. His middle finger grazed your swollen clit gently and the action made you twitch. He completely removed himself and sucked in a breath. 

“I told you, do not fucking move.” he said, his voice low and raspy. Before you could respond he landed a sharp blow to your ass cheek which made you gasp and then moan. You felt the rings against your skin just perfectly, and you could feel your wetness start to coat your inner thighs as you imagined the mark that would be left on you. 

“J… K…. you’re mine.” His hands reached your hips and pulled them up, your face still down on the bed. He kept a hand there, holding you up as his lips found your inner thigh once more, his tongue licking a stripe from your aching slit. You moaned into the sheets which made him smirk, his pointer and middle finger finding your clit and rubbing it softly as his tongue began fucking you, his groans making you melt inside. 

You breathed out his name as he applied pressure to your core, his tongue not stopping. You wanted to push yourself back onto his face, but you didn’t want to face the consequences. 

He let go of you all at once, letting you fall to the bed and making you gasp in shock. He positioned your hips with his large hands, both pressed against each side. He placed you the way he wanted you, and held a tight grasp on your skin especially with his right hand- you could feel the two letters slowly making a mark. Fuck. It felt so good. 

Without a word, he eased himself inside slowly. Allowing you to feel every inch, letting the stretch from his thickness take control and you felt yourself melt into the bed. Jake was just perfect for you, he always was. He always knew how to take care of you. But today, he was different. And you loved it. A low growl came from his throat as he settled himself fully inside you, and you could hear his breath shiver slightly, before he took himself out completely. 

You let out a small whine at the emptiness, which resulted in a fast smack against your right cheek. 

“Jake..” 

“You asked for it. Take what you fucking get.” The way his whisper was so raspy and low, god, it drove you insane. His lips found your neck, and his cock slid back inside with ease. He began rocking his hips against yours, his breathing loud and heavy against the sensitive skin right under your ear. 

He pulled himself back up. His hands finding your wrists, still rocking his hips against yours, and he pulled you up so your back was against his chest. “You gonna cum, baby?” He breathed out, his long fingers making their way around your neck. His other hand down to your cunt, his index and middle finger rubbing fast circles against your swollen clit. As he moved; you took your time identifying the veins in his arms, the roughness of his fingertips, the warm silver from the rings against your throat. 

“Fuck.. Yes, Yes!” You cried out, tears filling your eyes from the slight overstimulation. 

“Oh love.. Don’t cry.” He cooed, kissing your cheek before his hand tightened around your neck. “You’re all mine. Who’s pussy is this?” He groaned out.

“Yours.. Yours Jake.” You cried, the tears strolling down your face now. 

“Mhm.. That’s fucking right. You’re nothing but my tight little fuck hole hm?” 

You couldn’t reply with a word, instead you held onto his arm for guidance. You knew he was going to get you there; you just needed to be patient. But you were already so close, and he was not missing a beat with every thrust he pushed against you. 

“Hold it.” He whispered in your ear, his fingers still rapidly rubbing your clit. “Hold it…” He repeated, but you couldn’t hold on much longer. 

You could feel him twitching inside you, he was there too. Please Jake.. Please.

“Give it to me.” He said, holding you close as you combusted in his arms; your juices coating your sheets as you held onto his arm tightly. You yelled his name without a care for who could hear, you wanted everyone to know he was making you feel this good.

“Good girl.. You gonna take me, baby?” He spoke and you nodded, knowing he was there. 

With another thrust, he let himself fill you up, fully marking you as his.

As you two cooled off, he laid next to you without pulling out, wrapping his arm around your stomach he pulled you closer and nuzzled his face into the dip of your neck. “That was a beautiful gift. Thank you so much.” He spoke so sweetly. You turned over which made him pull out gently, still overstimulated a little. 

“I’m so glad you liked it.” You smiled, your hand combing through his brown locks. 

“I wasn’t too rough was I?” He asked, full of concern. 

You looked down at your thighs and lower stomach, his initials all over your body. 

“Just enough.”

“I love you, my beautiful girl.” He smiled, laying a soft kiss on your temple, pulling you close so your face was against his chest. 

“I love you too” You smiled against his skin. He was perfect. So fucking perfect.

{@sarakay-gvf @positivegvfthings @brokenbells11 @krystalm98 @shutupdevvie @milkgemini @jordierama @​​maddie-van-fleet @writingcold @gretavanfleas @jakes-eyebrows @spark-my-nature @lek-gvf @rad-space-princess @joshkiszkatoothgap @hippievanfleet @objectsinspvce @gvfficrecs @ageoffleeet @welllauragvf @weightofstar  @groupiegirlie08 @welllauragvf @fwzco @nicoleghost18 @andromeda-raine-gvf @sarrrahh @ren-ni  @zoe-tally06 @hellowgoodbye @aminaalilyy @spinthehemmo @hippievanfleet @streamofgvf @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @brokenbells11 @Gvfpal @gvfmarge @jakeygvf21 @Timeless—classics  @mackalah  @myleftsockisnotmine-blog @bubblyjake @valvebone @lexii-nv-c @mp0801 @hellowgoodbye @girldonttryme @risingwiththeheatabove @fakeplastiqtree  @beckahvanfleet }

[tactax-art]

The van comes to a halt, there's some kind of a snarl-up ahead, construction, going by the orange flashing in the distance. Soap groans, "I don't think I've ever managed to get through here smoothly outside of three AM." He's got an elbow against the window, his head leaned into his hand, the other hand on the gearstick, a knee to the steering wheel. The picture of casual focus, somehow he's never seen Soap drive before.  "Can't go around it?"  "Tried, takes about as long as sitting out the traffic, not really worth it if you ask me," he glances over at Ghost, "I'm surprised you haven't asked where we're going. Haven't asked anything, really." Ghost shrugs, his eyes catch on the sweatshirt's too-large collar, and the washed out burgundy t-shirt sticking out from under it, the glint of the tags chain below that.

[inmate62763]

What different types of prison uniform do you find in UK prisons? Can you wear your own clothing too in there?

Hi. This could be quite a long answer with several photos attached to make it easier to explain if that's okay. I was in prison in the UK about 8 years ago and things do change but when I was in we were still wearing HMP prison issue clothing in the prison I was in. Personally my clothing was HMP stripe shirt and prison issue denim jeans, also had a green t-shirt and the grey tracksuit sweatpants and sweatshirts. You could mix and match what you wore.

In other UK prisons the prison issue stuff could vary somewhat and i will give some examples further down this answer using photos. Also regarding wearing your own clothing, yes in recent times that has become more of a thing that happens in quite a few prisons. Sometimes you need to be on a higher (Enhanced) IEP incentive and earned privileges level or sometimes everyone wears their own clothes but there are certain restrictions such as no hoodies, nothing with offensive slogans and words, no sports team kit, no belts and nothing with too much black & white in it as they were the staff uniform colours. Screws in UK prisons usually wear black & white uniforms. But when I was in prison several years ago we still had to wear prison issue clothing back then. Here are a few examples of what prisoners in UK prisons typically would be issued and wear....

Prison issue grey tracksuit, sweatpants and sweatshirt or t-shirt.

Prison issue jeans with either the HMP prison stripey shirt or with a sweatshirt / jumper.

Prison issue jeans with a t-shirt. Usually green or burgundy red but could be other colours too such as light blue sometimes.

Green trousers with grey sweatshirts or t-shirts.

Or in more rarer circumstances the HMP escape suits (e-suit) used for high risk / dangerous prisoners. Could either be a jumpsuit or 2 piece and would either be green & yellow or blue & yellow.

Hope these descriptions help and thanks for the question.

[saltsicklover]

Title: Joy in Shattered Glass

Prompt: Nativity

Written for @sailor-aviator 's Christmas Writing Challenge! You can find the rest of the list HERE

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2700+

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Themes, Talk of Religion, Hurt and Comfort, Fluff, slight Angst. Established Relationship, Wife Reader nicknamed Dottie.

---

Bob Floyd has gotten used to coming home to find his wife in many, let's say, precarious situations. From trying to hang up art behind the couch on her own, to balancing on the top of a ladder to paint the wall that lines the stairs. His favorite ones involved her on her knees, an occurrence that no longer catches him by surprise anymore. It's not that he is no longer excited to see her that way, peering up through her eyelashes as the tip of her tongue drags impossibly slow over the fullest part of her bottom lip. It's just that, as their relationship has progressed, the scene became less surprising, but no less unexpected. 

The front door swings open a quarter to six, just like it always does on the days he is stuck in the classroom instead of in the air running hops. Frustration has pulled muscles throughout Bob's body tight, his limbs aching as his large ruck falls from his shoulder and onto the floor. 

Though he'd never admit it out loud, today is one of the days he wishes that his lover would have been there to meet him. Positioned their on the softness of the rug, pillow already positioned under her knees. He'd even left his flight suit on, know just how much she enjoys slowly tugging the impossibly long zipper down his body. That thought alone has had him half hard and well past needy since he pulled himself into the cab of his truck a half hour ago. 

Bob's day inside the classroom has felt endless. It's his go around with the new Top Gun students, most of whom don't respect him as a WSO. They've spent the better part of the last week pushing all of his buttons, ragging on everything from his birth control glasses to his accent. They made sure to remind him of his inability to teach pilots with every other snide comment, and now it's Thursday and Bob has just about had it. 

Dottie has had a day of her own, though she'd never complain, not in the slightest. It would be hard to complain when Bob has given her time to live out her dream of being a house wife, even if it's only temporary. Dottie packed up and moved to California at the drop of a hat, really. The moment Bob found out his detachment had been made permanent she had already started packing her bags. Though Bob has been wrapped around her finger for the better part of ten years, Dottie had all but belonged to Bob since their time in high school... well, rival high schools, and would follow that man to the ends of the Earth if it meant that she would get to be there when he got home at the end of the day. 

The pair had met at a football game, stuck out in the snow with too little clothing and not enough seating on the HOME bleachers. Bob had arrived late and been banished to the AWAY side of the field, but what had seemed like a tragedy at the time became the start to their relationship. He was a sweatshirt of forest green in a sea of yellow and burgundy, but with Dottie cuddled up to his side, he found himself liking the color scheme. 

Today, Dottie and Bob share a small home in the middle of a residential community. They are the odd pair out, no children. The moment the detachment became permanent, Dottie packed her things and made a home with Bob in Miramar, just north of their last base and the little house they couldn't stand. This time, however, has been the first time she has struggled to find employment, which has lead to their six week deal. 

For six weeks, Dottie would get to play house wife. Cook, clean, and be a home maker like it was the 1950's again. After all, no one is hiring during the holidays anyway. She had spent the first few weeks just getting their lives in order, her move having taken place a few months ago. There had been boxes stacked around the house and everything had been in desperate need of a deep clean. Bob came home to cooked meals and his wife smiling like he hadn't seen her before. The stress that had been present in her was now gone and it's something Bob could get used to seeing. 

Today, Dottie put the house together for the holidays. The Christmas tree stands in the corner of their small living room, decorated to the nines with reds and golds. The whole thing seems to glitter from all angles, the lights strung around it with expert hands. Dottie had baked cookies and started wrapping presents. The holidays season suddenly alive and well in the Floyd household. 

She had even taken care of setting up the delicate Nativity set on the sturdy table near the front door. That thing had followed the pair around with every move, had seen more of the country than her, in fact, as Bob has had it since he turned 18. Dottie has never know Bob to be religious, nor is she, but that damn Nativity set is erected each year in a well visible place. It's tradition after all. 

When Bob walked in a quarter to six, his heavy bag hitting the floor makes Dottie jump a little. With a furrowed brow, she rounds the corner. Her eyes meet an exasperated looking Bob, his hands already messing through his too neat hair. 

"Hi Bobby," Dottie speaks just above a whisper, padding closer to her husband. 

"Hello sweetheart," The greeting is all too sweet, though she can tell just how out of it her husband is. So, Dottie continues towards her husband. The moment she is within reach, Bob is pulling her body flush against his own, folding her into his arms. Dottie's fingertips graze over the back of his neck and up into his hair, scratching at his scalp. 

"How was your day?" The question is a bit hesitant coming off her lips, but she doesn't stop it. 

"I'm so sick of these damn kids," He huffs into her neck. Her laughter comes easy, from the mix of his breath against her neck and the silliness of the phrase. 

"Bob, they're not much younger than us," 

"Youngest is 25," He mutters with roll of his eyes, "Fuckin' kids," 

"That bad, huh?" 

"Worse," There's a bit of a smile in his tone. His arms snake around her just a little tighter, grounding himself with the feel of her body against his. 

"Anything I can do?" 

"Not unless you can make them actually respect me," The shrug of his shoulders maker Dottie frown. She can't imagine someone not respecting her husband. She knows he may be unassuming, but Robert Floyd is a force to be reckoned with, even if they can't see it. Even if he can't seem to remember. 

"Oh, Bobby, I can think of a few ways," She presses kisses into the plain of his neck, a shudder quickly running through him. His mind is wandering back to the image of his wife on the floor and suddenly he can barely feel the tension in his limbs. 

"What're those, sweetheart?" Hands slip down her body, fingers hooking through her beltloops. 

"First off," The words are punctuated with further presses of her lips to his hot skin, "I was thinking that I could leave behind a few strategically placed hickeys. Something just visible over your collar, something to keep their attention towards the front of the room," 

Hands begin to wander, Bob's chest rising and falling faster as his wife continues speaking.

"Then, you can fuck me in all your favorite places, and we can finally christen this house correctly," There's a little chuckle with her words, but Bob is too busy taking in every touch of her hands against his clothed body. 

"And, if you're feeling really feisty, we can have a repeat of that little incident in Virginia Bea-," The words catch in Dottie's throat as he picks her up without warning. He spins them around before dropping her onto the table near the front door. It isn't until her ass is connecting with the table that she realizes where she's at. The chorus of rolling ceramic and breaking glass make's her freeze. Bob stops quickly after, his eyes searching her worried expression. 

"Oh my god," The color threatens to drain from her face, though her chest is burning. 

"What is it, sweetheart?" He looks from her to the broken glass scattered around the floor, "What broke?" 

"It was your- oh my god," Dottie covers her mouth with her hands, tears quickly welling in her eyes. 

"What was it?" Bob's expression is so soft, even with his eyebrows screwed together in confusion. 

"It was your Nativity set," Dottie's confession is barely audible, so he prompts her again. 

"It was your Nativity set, Bobby, I'm so sorry," It takes Bob a second to realize what she's talking about, and it isn't until she is pushing him back and sliding off of the table that he lays eyes on the set, or what's left of it. 

"You decorated?" He asks, his expression going fully soft. 

"I did," Dottie wipes at a fallen tear, "I wanted to surprise you but I should've warned you, I guess,"

"Oh, sweetheart, it's alright," Bob takes her hand, running his thumb along her knuckles. 

"No it's not Bobby. If I would have warned you this wouldn't have happened. Or maybe if I had been working instead of being at home. If I would have been working then I wouldn't have had the time to set all this up and then you would have been here to help me and then the Nativity set would have been somewhere more safe and it wouldn't have gotten broken. God, Bobby, I am so sorry," Dottie rambles all while Bob listens to her carefully though he has already made up his mind on what to say next. 

He pulls her into a hug, shushing her gently while he rubs her back in an attempt to keep her from getting too worked up. It isn't until she calms down a little more that he finally decides to speak. 

"Can I let you in on a little secret?" Bob asks, his voice low in her ear. All Dottie manages is a nod, but Bob continues diligently. 

"I fucking hate that thing," 

"You what?" Dottie sniffles a bit, her voice muffled by his flight suit. 

"I hate that thing!" Bob repeats himself, louder this time. There is a laugh that follows right out of his lips. Dottie pulls back, looking at him with wild eyes. 

"Are you telling me that you've been hauling that thing around for over a decade even though you hate it?" Her mouth hangs open when he laughs harder, eyes squeezing together behind his glasses. 

"Yeah. I'm glad we can finally get rid of it!"

"So, let me get this straight, you've been hauling it around, and we have been setting that stupid thing up for years and you've wanted to get rid of it this whole time?" Dottie looks like she is trying to solve a cold case behind flushed cheeks and wet eyes. The expression just makes Bob laugh harder. 

"My grandmother gave me that," Bob manages to explain between deep breathes and lingering laughter. 

"You're making me feel worse," Dottie crosses her arms over her chest, but never lets go of Bob's hand. He just pulls her closer, wrapping her back into his embrace. 

"I'm not trying to, sweetheart. I'm trying to explain," 

Dottie looks up at him, through her lashes expectantly. Bob continues with a sigh, doing his best to ignore the light sheen still clinging to her cheeks. 

"Remember the Christmas Pops brought my sisters and I to see my grandmother before I went to the academy?" Bob inquires with a gentle voice, maintaining eye contact with Dottie as he does. "Well, she gave me that Nativity set. She said that every proper home needed one, and since I was going to be in my own home I needed to have one,"

"That's kind of sweet," Dottie mutters.

"It gets worse," Bob promises, a wry smile on his lips. 

"She knew that I wasn't raised religious, and didn't agree with her view of religion being a necessity. She also knew that you weren't religious, and that made her dislike you. When she gave that thing to me she said some backhanded comment about how you weren't wife material because of you lack of religious background,"

"That bitch," 

"My thoughts exactly," Bob chuckles, "She was a racist old bitty too,"

That gets them both laughing. Dottie's head comes to rest on Bob's shoulder, her face flushing as she grins. 

"Then why did you keep it?" She asks finally, after they calm down. 

"I dunno. I guess I felt bad for even wanting to get rid of it that I just couldn't without feeling sort of guilty about it. However, every time I moved I hoped it would break or that the box would get lost so I wouldn't have to deal with it anymore," The confession is spoken with a laugh and the feeling of being a hundred times lighter takes over his once aching limbs. 

"Geez, Bobby," Dottie starts with a heavy sigh, though the tension seems to release from her shoulders as she exhales. "I'm glad that you aren't too hurt over the whole thing. Guess I'm just sad it ruined the mood," 

There is a shrug of her shoulders before Bob is placing a widespread hand on her stomach, pulling her frame back into his firm body. 

"Oh Dot, sweetheart," Bob nuzzles his nose into her hair, "We are still just getting started."

He spins her body in his hold before picking her up. Legs wind themselves around his midsection, hands cradling his neck before venturing north into his too neat hair. They kiss with a needy heat, one that is just beginning to burn as Dot pulls back. 

"Wait," Her breath fans over his skin, his fingertips digging into the fullest parts of her thighs, "The glass, we can't just leave it," 

The bridge of his nose runs along the slope of her jaw, her lower lip making a home between imperfect teeth. 

"I'll tend to it later," It's a whispered promise, "But you're the only dangerous thing I want to deal with right now," 

"Me? Dangerous?" The words slip past her lips as Bob deposits her down onto the kitchen counter, allowing himself to settle between her legs. 

"Absolutely. I mean, if we weren't destined for hell before, breaking that little scene while getting up to some nefarious business has to of dammed our souls for sure," There is an air of humor in his voice, even as Bob tries his best to keep a straight face as he places kisses down the side of Dottie's neck. 

"Robert Floyd!" There is a little squeal that accompanies his name, just as he digs his fingers into the squishy flesh at her sides, tickling her. 

"Yes, Mrs. Floyd?" He asks over the choir of her laughter, his own breaking past his smile, "Do you disagree? Even though you were the one to proposition me?" 

"You kissed me first!" It's a weak argument, but it's the best one she's got. His tickling hands come to rest on her waist, heavy and warm. 

"After that little proposition you made. What was it? Christen the house by letting me fuck you in all of my favorite places?" One of his hands comes up to cradle the side of her face, a devious smirk on his own. Dottie makes to attempt to shy away from her husband's heavy gaze. Instead her eyes trail down the slope of his nose and over the ridges of his cupids bow. She plucks his glasses from his nose to get an unimpeded look at his sea glass irises. 

"About that..." His glasses clink against the cool stone of the countertop, his eyebrows raising with curiosity. 

"Where to first, Mr. Floyd?" The devious smirk never leaves Bob's face as he pulls her in closer, closer, closer. 

"Oh, sweetheart, we're already here,"