#but don't fucking start an argument with me

[sweaterkittensahoy]

My mother was against me dying my hair or doing anything else to change its color. Keep in mind, this was in a small town in Arkansas in the mid-to-late 90s. I wasn't looking at manic panic to choose a new hair color. I was wanting to take one of the still-kind-of-regular-looking purpley reds from the hair dye aisle at the Wal-Mart and do that.

Mom was very against it. I was--as always--defiant in the face of what felt like a very bullshit rule. But I knew I couldn't just bring dye into the house, so one summer, I got a bottle of Sun-In.

If you don't know, the entire point of Sun-In is to turn your hair something sort of red that is also clearly the worst color you could have ever. I cannot stress enough how very obvious it is when someone has used Sun-In. Especially when you have dark hair.

Mid-summer, my mother starts narrowing her eyes. "You're using Sun-In," she says.

Of course I am. "No, I'm not," I reply. "It's just bleaching in the sun like it always does."

"No, you're using Sun-In."

"No, I'm not."

My mother was not a room searcher. But I was also keeping the bottle at a friend's house because I'm not fucking dumb.

My mother through the summer: "You are absolutely using Sun-In."

Me, absolutely using Sun-In: "No, I'm not."

My mother: "Yes, you are. I know what it looks like."

Me: "Well, it doesn't look like this because I'm not using it."

And then my school pictures came back for that year and I saw what my mother was seeing. Here's the year before and the year of for reference:

After I realized Mom had absolutely caught me, I figured fuck it, took my own money and bought a box of hair dye. Mom really wanted to be mad about it, but I kept up the fiction that I had NEVER used Sun-In (how dare you) and that I had always been told I could use my own money to do whatever I wanted, so she didn't really have a great counter-argument.

Years later, as I was circling through various blues and purples and pinks and fire-engine reds, my mother shifted focus from my hair color to the fact I had an undercut. Because the hair control is real and never goes away.

"But what if you want to grow it out?"

"Dunno. I'll figure it out when I get there."

"But what will you do?"

(give a shrug and make an 'i don't know and you heard me the first time noise)

I was 30-something for that one, so, no, the hair as control never stops for some parents.

@ parents who dont let their kids dye their hair: why r u so afraid of ur kid looking cool

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Start A New

Fandom: The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x F!Reader

Summary: In a tragic car accident, Jack loses his wife, who was your best friend, and you lose your husband, the father of your child. Now both of you navigate life together and co-parenting your daughter, Evelyn, while also trying to figure out your feelings for each other.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who loved the first part! Now here's that happy ending you all wanted...

Undeserving (aka Part 1) | The Pitt Masterlist

Jack tried to get some rest. He really tried, but he kept going over his argument with you. Did you really not see how much he loves you and Evie? Do you really not know how heartbroken he'd be if you left?

He sighs and checks the time on his bedside. It's almost noon and Evie usually takes a nap around this time. It might be a good time for him to talk to you again so Evie doesn't see if things get heated.

He kicks off his blankets and drags himself out of bed. He exits his room and heads to the kitchen. You're there again, looking at your laptop. He hopes you're not looking at apartments again, but it's likely.

"Can we talk?"

"You should be sleeping."

"I can't. My mind is going all over the place," he takes up the empty chair beside you. He glances at your screen and, sure enough, you were looking at apartments.

He rests his arms on the dining table, "Please, don't leave," he says in a broken, pleading tone.

You fully face him, "Jack, I love you. I really do, but...I feel bad. You were my Anna's husband. She was my best friend. The one she was supposed to grow old with. I feel guilty that she's not here, that you and her never got to have kids and grow old together. I feel bad for practically replacing her."

"You're not-"

You hold your hand out, "Let me get everything out...please."

He nods, "Okay."

You take a deep breath, "I feel guilty for being here when she couldn't be. I also feel guilty for loving you when it should be Andrew here helping me raise Evie. I feel guilty for taking up your space, your time. I-I feel like I don't deserve you. You're such a good, loving, caring man and I shouldn't be taking over your life the way that I've been these past few years.

"That's why I want to move out. But also, my therapist think it'd be good for us to live separately. We've become too dependent on each other because we lost our partners in the same accident. We need space in order for us to have a healthy relationship. And I really hope you understand that."

He gulps and nods, "I get it...but fuck, sweetheart. You and Evie are the first and last thing I think about when I wake up and go to sleep. I'm gonna be honest, it's gonna fucking suck not having you two around all the time."

You reach out and place your hand on top of his, "Again, this isn't happening any time soon. I still have to find a place."

"Have you looked at places nearby?"

You nod, "Yeah. I don't wanna be too far from you."

That brings a small smile to Jack's face, "That's something at least," he murmurs. He leans in and presses his lips to your head, "I love you so much, sweetheart." He turns his hand up and laces his fingers with you.

"I love you too," you whisper. You lean back to look at him, "We'll get through it." you cup his face with your free hand, your thumb grazing over his five o'clock shadow, "We've gotten through worse."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "Yeah...we have."

_____________________________

In the upcoming months, you continued to apartment hunt. Jack would accompany you to provide input. You looked at various apartment complexes within two to five miles away from Jack's home.

You eventually found a place just three blocks away from him and much closer to the park the three of you frequented.

Leaving Jack was hard, but you knew it would be good for you two. Evie took it hard, obviously. She didn't want to leave her Uncle Jack Jack and her cries brought tears to your own eyes.

Jack held Evelyn close as he explained everything, "You'll still see me, honey. I'm not going anywhere. We'll still go to the park together and have family time. I'm not leaving you, baby. I promise," he holds her tighter and you see tears welling up in his eyes as Evelyn sobs, "I promise, Evie. I'll always be here for you and mommy."

When move in day came, Jack helped you as much as he could. When he was at work, some of the day shift nurses and doctors came to help you.

Robby grunted as he set a box down, "So...I heard you two confessed your love."

You rolled your eyes, "Yes. We did."

"You know, usually when people love each other like you do, they move in together. Not move out."

"We need the space and more independence. We did everything backwards, Robby." You explained as you begin to unbox the box he brought in.

"I know. But don't tell Abbot I told you this, but he's been really anxious about this. He doesn't know what he's going to do without you girls."

"We'll figure it out eventually. We've spent a majority of these past few years always at each other's sides and we weren't even officially together. It's going to be a big change, but we can get through it. After everything we've gone through, especially Jack, I think we'll make it out okay."

The doctor nodded, "I hope so 'cause now his bitchin' is even more sad and depressing."

You giggled and shoved his shoulder, "Get back to work, doc."

He salutes you, "Yes, ma'am!"

_________________________

Three months living in the apartment with just you and Evelyn was a rough start. Evie was constantly asking for her Uncle Jack Jack and you had to explain that you couldn't go to his house every single day.

Eventually, she got used to it being just you and her. Some nights did feel lonelier than ever. You had to fight yourself on not inviting Jack all the time. But so far, he'd been coming over once a week and you've been going to his the same as well.

It was an adjustment for sure, but you three of you eventually used to it.

Any downtime he had during his shifts, Jack would call you, wanting to hear your voice or see Evie via video chat. You thought things would be tense for a long time between you and he. But, thankfully, it was only tense for the first month and you two fell back into how things were before. You'd joke around, share about your days, but now it's coupled with some flirtatious banter.

It was weird in the beginning, hearing him flirt with you and you flirt back. But now it's second nature with you two. Your flirtatious banter would be silly or cute or downright sinful, but only when Evie wasn't around.

Jack: what're you wearing?

You snort when you read his text. You text him back:

You: aren't you supposed to be working?

Jack: was thinking about you and I'm on my lunch....so what're you wearing?

You take a selfie of you wearing one of his old Army shirts and reply to him with that.

Your phone suddenly starts ringing and you laugh, answering it, "There's no way I'm having phone sex with you while you're at work."

"Well can I come over after my shift and we can have real sex?"

You clasp your hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh. You look beside you to see Evie still passed out after you two started watching a movie.

"Won't you be exhausted?"

"I'm wound up today and sex is a great relaxer." You can hear the smirk in his tone.

"Yeah? Says who?"

"Me, I'm a doctor, remember?"

"Last time I checked, you're a doctor in medicine. Not sexology."

He hums, "Fine. You caught me...I just miss you."

You soften your voice, "I miss you too. I miss you a lot but...this time apart has been good for me."

"I know, but don't get too comfortable. Once your lease is up, you're moving back here. Got that?"

You chuckle, "Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. I want us to be whole again. It's so fucking quiet in the house now. Fuck, the other day, I had Bluey playing in the background just so it feels like you two are around still."

That tugs on your heartstrings, "Jack-"

"Shit. I gotta go. They need extra help and we're already down a doctor. I gotta go sweetheart and I'll talk to you later, okay? I love you."

"I love you too, Jack. Bye." He ends the call and you lay back in bed. You bury your face into his shirt, wishing it smelled like him again.

_____________________________

It felt like deja vu. You're at the park, sitting on the picnic blanket with Dana like you had all those months ago. Jack and Evie are playing on the playground like they always are.

Dana, feeling the same sense as you goes, "Funny to be here with you guys again but now you and Jack are together. Separate, but also together."

You nod, "I know. Weird, right?"

"That was a rough patch you guys went through, but look at you now. You two have gone through a lot and keep overcoming it. Shows how strong the two of you are," Dana lifts her bottle of water as if giving you a cheers and sips from it.

You smile at the older woman, "Thanks. None of what the both of us have gone through was easy, but we did it together. Loving him is easy. I still feel sad and guilty sometimes. For Anna. For Andrew."

"They would've wanted you two to be happy," Dana says with confidence.

"I know, still doesn't mean I don't feel bad about it sometimes." You sigh, "Therapy has helped a lot though."

"That's good, honey. Really good."

"Sweetheart!" you look up and see Jack looking your way, "You want ice cream?"

"Rainbow pop please!" You glance at Dana, "You wany anything?"

"I'm good."

"Just one for me, baby!"

"Got it!" he gives you a thumbs up and guides Evie to the ice cream truck.

Dana wistfully sighs, "You guys are so fucking cute. I really am happy you two are together."

"Thanks, Dana. I am too."

______________________________

Three Years Later

Evie was at a sleepover at her friend's apartment in the same complex. So that meant you and Jack had the place to yourselves since Jack was off that day.

After a few rounds of sex, you two were just cuddling in your bed. Your head is resting on his chest, his arm wrapped around you and tracing lines along your back.

You two were laying in a blissful silence when Jack slid out of bed, "Where you going?"

"I wanna grab something from my pants," he grabs his jeans from the floor and found what he was looking for in his pocket.

He sits back in bed and presents you with a tiny box. You immediately sit up and look at him with wide eyes, "Jack..."

"Sweetheart, you already know how much I love you. There aren't really words that I can say that you haven't heard before. I love you and Evie so much. We've gone through hell and back. Our lives have been intertwined since that night. I didn't expect to fall in love with you, but I did. I didn't expect to love Evie as much as I do.

"I love the life we've built together, even though the start of it was unconventional and, frankly, extremely traumatizing-"

You snort, "What a way to propose, baby."

"Well I didn't necessarily say the words yet, did I?"

He opens the box to reveal a gorgeous ring. The cut was perfect and it was a ring you definitely see yourself wearing forever, "Y/N, will you marry me?"

"Of fucking course I will," you press your lips to his and you feel him smiling into the kiss, "I love you," you mumble against his lips.

He breaks the kiss, grinning, "I love you too," he takes the ring out of the box and slips it onto your finger.

You look at how it sits on your finger. You didn't think you'd be wearing another wedding ring again, yet here you are.

You giggle and Jack looks at you, "What's so funny?"

"I can't believe you proposed with your dick out and made a comment about our shared trauma."

He shrugs, "Well isn't our entire relationship built on unconventional and traumatic events?"

You roll your eyes and climb onto Jack's lap, "Shut up and make love to your fiancee."

He smiles wide, "No need to tell me twice."

_____________________

"DID HE DO IT?! DID HE ASK YOU TO MARRY HIM?!" Evie asks as into the apartment after her sleepover. Jack follows her inside, chuckling.

You hold up your left hand, "He did, baby!"

"YAY!" Evie wraps her arms around you and then gasps. She turns to Jack, "Can I call you dad now?!"

Jack looks at you. You two have talked about it before. You're okay with Evie calling Jack her dad. He practically is.

He softly smiles at the six year old, "Yeah, honey. You can call me dad." Evie launches herself at Jack and he catches her. He hugs her tight.

It's funny. You and Jack thought you were undeserving of each other, but turns out, you were just what the other needed this whole time.

[bonus-links]

Eeee Directors commentary for HOMESICK, pt. 13? (I’m particularly interested in Wake’s POV on Ganondorf’s character & exactly when he began thinking of him as someone who cares about more than just power?—If sharing that wouldn’t be a spoiler of/c.)

HI EVERYONE!!

okay so funny story about the castle. for some reason I had gotten it into my head that the castle was definitively located directly below the tower of the gods. I think it's because that's where the portal to enter it is located in the game. but it did not occur to me until I had literally already drawn it in this update that it. does not have to be that way. and probably makes more sense if it's not HAHA so anyway just go with this being the former location of the castle lol I needed them to be able to see it from outset

lots of people caught this but Wolf being like. hey wait a second I know that fucking guy

scary ganondorf silhouettes compared with the decidedly human version of him we met last update

and on that note: Wake is not necessarily arguing that Ganondorf was actually good all along. He's uncomfortable with dehumanizing him fully. He's kind of half trying to make a joke here about the stories he grew up with about Ganon, a joke Wolf takes very seriously lol. To your question about when exactly Wake started to actually think about Ganondorf, at the time of his first quest he mostly didn't take much of what he said seriously. Priority #1 was saving Aryll. In the years since though, he's had more time to consider Ganondorf's position. I don't think he likes or even sympathizes with Ganondorf, but he has begun to understand where he's coming from.

In Wolf's defense, his experience of Ganondorf was VERY different than Wake's lol. He knows his version of Ganondorf to be capable of puppeting disasters like this behind the scenes, and he also knows that Ganondorf has pulled off seemingly impossible feats before (divine prank, anyone). From his perspective he's like. in the fucking twilight zone right now. pun intended. what do you MEAN you're defending Ganondorf in front of me. what do you MEAN this isn't enough evidence for what is clearly a proven pattern of behavior. etc. ARE YOU PEOPLE NUTS???

I love conflict and arguing and being locked into your own worldview <3

lots of this chapter has just been me unpacking the different ways WW and TP respond to OOT as sequels SHJGKGJ

one thing I regret about last update in hindsight was not having Ganondorf say like. one line mentioning Wake. But also something something overshadowed by the Hero of Time even in this, so maybe it makes sense he didn't.

Slate and even Loft are both kind of outsiders to this conversation. Originally Slate was supposed to be in that 4th panel on the last page typing up notes on his Sheikah Slate, but I ran out of steam to draw him HAHA anyway he's not contributing to the argument much but he's definitely connecting some dots in his head. also Slate whistling to get everyone's attention is so funny to me

top ten favorite loft moments I also love lying liars who lie. anyway I'm sure he's being really normal about all of this in that noggin of his. adding: can and will lie to his list of character traits lol this is a little bit of a defining moment for him even tho it's small

I have a secret about this outset background. It's literally just this panel from pt. 4 zoomed in and blurred. I've been using it every time they're on this beach 😂 it's been a life saver for real

I might have more to say later but I am very tired KJHKLJDGKJ so that's all I've got for now. thanks for reading! we're really really almost to the end of ch2 now!

[mvst4far]

AJ x pregnant!f!reader

SUMMARY: Being pregnant didn't mean you couldn't feel horny ever again. In particular, this week, your hormones sparked more than they ever had.

WARNINGS: slight sexting, brief mention of masturbation, oral (reader receiving), piv, pregnancy!kink??, unprotected sex, slight teasing?, gentle praises, sweet dirty talk and aftercare 'cause we all know AJ really is a sweetheart underneath ☹️

a/n , this isn't proofread so ignore the mistakes if there is any 💔

For the entire week, you had been attempting to get AJ's attention in every way possible. This stupid blond was so dumb, he thought you were just really cuddly and trying to hold onto him─not fuck him raw.

With you being pregnant, AJ had been denying his own hormones. He didn't want to accidentally hurt you, so he never voiced it. Instead, he would blow off that steam by fisting himself when he was showering and you were busy taking a nap. While he had his hand wrapped around himself, all he could think about was your mouth replacing it.

And during AJ's work hours, planning heists with his crew, you couldn't resist the urge but to send him a few cheeky photos and hope he would get the hint. The pictures were very subtle, but exposed enough. Again, AJ was basically the stereotypical blond of being dumb, he was oblivious to the fact your aching pussy was pulsing his name.

Instead of thinking you were horny, he genuinely thought those photos were for updating your stomach growth. The fact you sent him a photo of you laid on the bed, your round stomach and cleavage exposed, he responded with a lousy, "You look cute".

He was actually so stupid it made your blood boil.

How could someone so smart be so dumb at the same time? You knew he was clever, due to sometimes seeing the planning of some heists he had planned with his crew. But, when it came to hormones, he seemed like the most blindest person on earth.

And that wasn't the end of it.

Even when the two of you were showering together, you'd give him subtle hints by pressing kisses to the muscles on his back, his inked biceps and even brushing your lower back against the tip of his cock.

But when that didn't work, you felt the need to come clean and be brutally honest about how he was making you feel.

You were currently sat at the kitchen island, watching as AJ prepared two dinner plates for the two of you. His gray sweatpants hung incredibly low on his waist─exposing his v-line as he remained shirtless. His muscles were casually flexed, making your mouth water at the sight of his inked skin.

With a heavy sigh, you finally spoke your mind and what's been bothering you for the past week. "You've been ignoring me," You mumble, leaving no room for sugar coating.

AJ's eyebrow began to raise at your blunt statement, turning around to face you. "I don't think I have..." His voice laced with confusion, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter.

This whole week he had been showering you with kisses, cuddles and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. How could he possibly have been ignoring you?

"Well, you have," You scoff, copying his action by crossing your arms and leaning back into the chair.

A sigh fell from his lips, clearly not recalling any moment of the week he had neglected you, but he didn't want to start argument. So, he let you have it.

"Fine." He gives in, pushing away from the counter and walking around it to approach you. "I'm sorry for making you feel like I was ignoring you." He murmurs, spinning your chair around so you could face him.

You didn't say anything for a moment, just letting your eyes bore into his after hearing his half-assed apology.

He clicks his tongue against his teeth at your lack of response, sighing once more. "I just don't know how I've been ignoring you." He shrugs.

There it was. The truth.

AJ was beyond terrified at this point. How you sat there silently, staring up at him with an almost glare that pointed out his stupidity.

"In a different way, you've been ignoring me." You spoke, dragging your words out slowly to see if he would understand.

But all he did was stare down at you with some confused puppy look. He was so lost, it almost made him frustrated.

With no response for about fifteen seconds, you roll your eyes and groan at his lack of intelligence. "Oh my God," You whisper to yourself, looking up into his icy blues.

You blink rapidly, occasionally flickering your gaze down to his crotch covered by his gray sweatpants. Surely that was enough for him to catch on, right?

AJ's brow furrows, his face soon dropping in realization. "Oh... oh!" He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, clearing his throat.

"I─I... didn't know. Sorry," He mumbles sheepishly, once again clearing his throat for like the tenth time.

You didn't say anything after that─just rolling your eyes and sliding off the chair. You harshly grab at his hand, dragging him down the hallway to your shared bedroom. Having dinner was far from making a comeback─since all you could focus on was fucking your husband stupid.

AJ stumbles behind you like a lost puppy, letting you have your way without complaining. "I don't wanna hurt you," He whispers, shutting the bedroom door behind him as you stepped towards the bed.

"You won't." You reply firmly, crawling onto the plush mattress.

AJ watches as you carefully lay onto your back, adjusting your body in a comfortable position. After hearing your reassurance, he wasted no time but crawling on top of you and hovering over you.

His inked abdomen brushes against your stomach, having his hands on either side of your head to keep himself upright. He dips his head down to your neck, pressing light, feathery kisses along your collarbone and occasionally nipping at your skin.

"You're teasing," You mumble softly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

AJ lets a small breathless laugh escape against your skin, nodding his head. "Yeah, I am." He smirks, "You don't like that, do you?"

Most of the time, you'd sit back and enjoy his teases to rile you up before ravishing you. But after being neglected for the whole week, all you wanted was to be filled up.

"No, not really." You answer truthfully, shaking your head.

He nods, fingers curling underneath the waistband of your pajama shorts. "Yeah, yeah, I'm gettin' to it." He sighs dramatically, sliding the fabric down your legs along with your panties.

Once your legs were spread for him, and the clothing was discarded to the floor, he took a moment to admire your pink, puffy pussy aching and begging to be touched. He definitely felt guilty for being so oblivious to your sexual tendencies, which was why he was going to make it all up now.

Diving straight in, AJ's mouth latches onto your bundle of nerves. He was sloppily kissing and sucking it all over, in goal of making you feel good. And by the moans and whimpers you were making, he could feel a proud smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Just like that... h-huuh," Your back arches, eyes squeezing shut as he continues to full on ravish you whole.

"C'mon, baby," He grunts, "Cum on my tongue for me, yeah?"

You nod, unable to fully get any coherent words out.

It didn't take long until you were leaking your juices into his mouth, letting him swallow it whole while his tongue teased your nub.

He brought the back of his hand to his mouth, sitting back up on his knees as he wipes his mouth clean.

"You doin' okay?" He laughs at your brows furrowed, chest heaving with clear lack of oxygen.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." You grumble, eyes opening to meet his. "Just fuck me already."

AJ was already sliding down his sweatpants at your words, his large, veiny cock springing out. "Whatever you say," He shrugs, aligning himself with you.

He first began to slowly slide himself into you, letting you get used to his long length after a while. But as he started to pick up the pace, he would whisper sweet nothings into your ear. Occasionally asking if it was too much, or if you needed a break. He couldn't help it. He just didn't want to hurt you.

After cumming all over AJ's slick cock, he helped you ride out your orgasm as he did the same. Leaving the two of you heavily breathing, sweat beads sticking to your forehead, and limbs aching. It had been a while, after all.

The both of you were now cuddled up on the bed, your back against his hard chest. He helped you get cleaned up, took a warm shower with you, and kissed you all over. After being the dirtiest manwhore in bed, he was genuinely a sap.

"I love you so much, you know that?" AJ presses a kiss to your pulse point, long fingers splayed over your stomach.

You smile. "I love you too."

taglist: @alealuvshayden @anakinstwinklebunny @divineani @estranged-girl @fredswrite

[bluebnny]

Relationship headcanons with Law

content: basically, random thoughts on what I would expect law to be like in a relationship, contains fluff with some angst (although the angst may have taken over a bit), hurt/comfort, established relationship, G/N reader x trafalgar law

warnings: none really ig, some unhealthy behaviour, quick mention of childhood trauma

a/n: This is my first time writing O_O so let me know if there are any mistakes, and please feel free to tell me if you like it! It would make my day. Also, I really like angst, and I don't think there's nearly enough toxic law out there, but I still tried not to make this too depressing lol. I hope it's not all over the place, I didn't really have an outline like I usually would, just kind of wrote what came to mind and added a few scenarios in between where I felt it would make sense. Dividers are made by me. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy <3

word count: 1.821

Personally, I think that Law is a bit of a toxic person.

Like not on purpose, he doesn't mean to be distant or even mean, but I think he would have a tendency to hurt you without realizing.

The kind of person who learned to take as much as he can get away with, without ever giving more than he needs to. It's been his survival strategy for a long time, and has helped him not only to survive, but even to find some sort of fucked up sense of happiness during his time with the donquixote family.

As a result, however, it takes him a long time to let people into his life, and even longer until he has deemed them trustworthy. He is very unwilling to talk about his feelings or admit that he is wrong, as he has learned that the only way to survive is to show no weakness.

Being in a relationship with Law proves that he has immense trust in you, but it doesn't mean he will automatically start to work through his trauma.

I think because of that it would take a long time for a relationship to feel "real". Not that it's awkward, but there's this persistent lingering feeling in the back of your mind that he is keeping you at arm's length. It would give you the constant feeling of having done something wrong.

However, if you talk about it, he will completely deny it.

"Law, are you still working?" you yawn, rubbing your eyes as you walk into his office "It's really late, aren't you tired?"

"Go to bed, I’ll be done soon." he doesn't even look up. The dismissal in his tone stings, but against your better judgement - which is currently telling you to give him the silent treatment for 2 days - you step closer to his desk. Your job on the Polar Tang involves paperwork too, so you immediately know when looking down at the form he's filling out that he is not almost done. He clearly just started a new task.

You clear your throat, not wanting to start an argument, but also feeling like you need to stand up for yourself. "Law, it looks to me like you are done for today" you try not to sound accusing, instead landing somewhere between hurt and disappointed "That report is due in a week. Why won't you just come to bed?"

You immediately know you've crossed some sort of line, because he exhales dramatically and scowls at you. "If it's so late, just go to sleep. I don't need you babying me, ok? I feel fine!" His eyebags tell a different story. Still, he firmly focuses his attention is back on his work.

Having completely forgotten about the silent treatment and now restraining yourself from grabbing his hat and throwing it, you make one last attempt at composing yourself. "What I mean is, I haven't seen you all day. I'm tired and I can tell you are too. I'm not trying to be overbearing, but I don't know what else to do when pushing me away like this!"

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are!"

He doesn't respond. Just shoots you an irritated glance. You want him to say something, but you're too tired to keep arguing. Torn between frustration, sadness, and a sudden need to cry, you decide to leave it. Without a word, you turn around and walk off, closing the door forcefully enough to make a point, but not slamming it so hard as to wake anyone else on the ship. You mumble angrily to yourself as you get into bed, trying to calm down enough to still get some sleep before morning, which is only a few hours away.

In his office, Law is muttering something about being "...at the height of my executive function right now..." while also trying not to fall asleep right there at his desk.

Law doesn't even see it as lying. He's not the kind of person to think about feelings, preferring to focus on tangible things that he has more control over. That's why he wouldn't even realize that the way he's acting towards you stems from maladaptive and unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Speaking of control, I actually feel like he wouldn't be that controlling. Not that he's the type of guy to feel at ease when something is completely out of his influence (not even close lol), just that he's not the type to monitor your every move.

Definitely not going to go through your stuff or ask to read your personal messages. If you two have made it as far as dating, it's because he trusts you, so it wouldn't even occur to him to invade your privacy like that.

He will have trouble letting you go off on your own though, like on a mission or in a fight. He is terribly afraid of losing you, but his inability to admit that to even himself would lead you two to argue about it often. Is the type to follow you around to make sure you're not alone or in danger.

Although he has a deep aversion towards working on himself, that doesn't mean he doesn't still love you and want to make you happy. He's not evil, just not the most mentally healthy person in the world (to put it very mildly).

Therefore, you will manage to get him to listen to you every now and then, and maybe even change some of his habits to accommodate you better.

He will set aside some time every day to spend only with you. One day, you will be having lunch together in his office, another day, he will ask you about your day in the evening before falling asleep.

On rare occasions, you might even get him to lie down in bed next to you for an afternoon nap (only for your benefit of course. He is definitely NOT tired from his healthy average of 5 hours of sleep).

He's also more attentive to your feelings and gets better at noticing if you're sad because of something he said, or if you need his reassurance.

"Why would you do that?" you storm into his office, sounding annoyed, but not raising your voice. Law meets your gaze but remains seated at his desk. You seem tired.

"It was dangerous. No point in getting you hurt" he states.

"Oh, but it wasn't too dangerous for you and all the other crew members? Somehow, I am the only one who needed saving?" this time, Law detects the sadness in your voice, and the "tiredness" in your eyes now looks a lot more like redness from crying.

He sighs, trying to think, and opts for a straight forward answer, hoping it will underline the logic behind his actions "Look, it's not that I doubt you, but you...", but trails off when he sees your bottom lip quivering and fresh tears fall from your eyes. His steely gaze softens a bit, and he stands up abruptly.

You, preoccupied with trying to hide your tears, don't notice his change in demeanour. Mistaking the movement for a sign of wanting to continue the argument, you quickly jump to your own defence. "Stop trying to excuse it! You barely ever acknowledge me, and the one time I have a chance to prove mysel-" You are abruptly cut off when he pulls you into a tender hug. At first, you freeze up, not wanting to make this too easy for him, but quickly decide against it when he presses his lips to the top of your head. "Can you at least tell me what I did wrong?" you sniffle into his shirt.

"You did nothing wrong." he feels bad now but tries not to let it get to him. Instead, he tries his best to reassure you "But you barely dodged that one attack, and there was another enemy already sneaking up behind you. I just want you to stay safe." to anyone else, his even tone might have come across as dismissing. But knowing how rarely he explains himself to others, you recognize this as him doing his best to correct the misunderstanding between you.

You're now gripping his shirt tightly, pulling him closer as if you're afraid he will leave if you don't. "So, you're not mad at me?"

"What? No." Slightly confused now, Law is clearly unaware of how cold he can seem sometimes. He assumes that his feelings for you are obvious enough that he doesn't have to keep emphasizing them. It's not his style and makes him uncomfortable. Still, he understands that you need reassurance.

"Don't do that again though. It's my decision if I fight. Not yours." you tell him quietly, trying to sound firm. But the wobbliness in your voice doesn't help. Law stays quiet. Evidently, he doesn't want to make a promise he won't try to stick to, but he also understands that now is not the time to argue back. But you don't care. You're just happy that he accepts that you do have a point, instead of blindly rejecting anything that goes against his instincts like he used to.

Good luck getting him to admit that he can be wrong sometimes though. Although you have gotten a lot closer and more confident in your relationship, fighting with Law is something you do not wish upon your worst enemy.

He can be ruthless, and although he doesn't say anything explicitly mean, knowing that he is generally a very forward and honest person makes his sharp tone and angry expression very hard to bear.

You've quickly learned that the only good way to end a fight with Law is to simply walk away when you've had enough. He might be a bit toxic, but he's not outright abusive and won't follow you to continue the fight. Hurting you is never his goal; it just often happens to be the unfortunate outcome.

Will calm down pretty quickly and start feeling really bad for how he treated you (but of course won't admit that to himself). He does desperately need to lessen the guilt that's eating him alive though, so he will find you and do something sweet for you that he knows will make you feel better. One time it might be your favourite snack and a hug, another time, he will kiss away your tears telling you that he loves you.

It's tough for him if you cry since he never knows what to do, but he will still sit with you in silence until you have calmed down, hugging you tightly with his chin resting on your head and his hands rubbing your back.

It's extremely rare for him to say that he's sorry, though. That is reserved for a time when he has truly fucked up and fears he may have actually pushed you away for good.

[yeahiveheardofbears-fics]

Behind the Beaded Curtain

When you and Steve get stuck closing Family Video together, the usual banter takes a turn toward mischief—and maybe something more—when an empty store and a cart of VHS tapes lead to some questionable decisions. Between late-night chaos, awkward tension, and way too many adult films, Steve might finally figure out that sometimes, taking a chance is worth the risk.

hi guys! here's a little smut oneshot to hold you over till I post the next fic in my rewrite series! There is no use of Y/N and the 'you' mentioned is fem. I loosely based it off of my OC, Mac, but I tried not to be super descriptive so the X Reader girlies can get a little more immersed. This was just an idea that didn't make sense for my main fic, so i decided to write it as a oneshot. I'm goign to try and post my oneshots on this page as well as ao3! comments encouraged and I hope you enjoy.

TW: talk of porn, sex at work, body confidence issues, uh idk they fuck so if you don't like that i guess don't read it

REQUESTS ARE OPEN, IF YOU LIKE THIS, PLZ MESSAGE ME CAUSE I NEED INSPO <3

read on ao3 or read below the cut:

The bell above the Family Video door jingled weakly, signaling the entrance of a customer. You leaned against the shelf you were restocking, the rough cardboard edges of a VHS cover pressed into your palm, watching Steve Harrington prop his feet up on the counter like he owned the place. His uniform vest clashing with his shirt, collar slightly rumpled, and his hair—perfect as ever—caught the light just so. You hated that he looked like he belonged in one of the cheesy rom-coms he was so bad at recommending to customers.

“Don’t strain yourself,” you called, sliding a copy of A Nightmare on Elm Street onto the shelf. “Wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle working too hard.”

Steve lazily swiveled the stool he was perched on, an easy grin spreading across his face. “It’s called delegating. You’re the one who offered to restock.”

You raised a brow, slapping another tape onto the shelf with a little more force than necessary. “You mean when you handed me the cart and said, ‘You’re better at this, anyway’? Yeah, real great teamwork.”

Robin appeared from one of the aisles, dragging a broom behind her and looking thoroughly unimpressed with both of you. “You know, it’s amazing you haven’t driven each other insane yet. You’re like two stray cats fighting over the same dumpster.”

Steve shot her an annoyed look, but you just smirked, leaning against the shelf with your arms crossed. “He’s not worth the energy,” you said, jerking your chin toward him. “I’d rather put my effort into alphabetizing the horror section for the third time this week.”

“Hey!” Steve pointed at you, his grin widening. “That’s because you have no taste. You keep shoving Gremlins into the comedy section.”

“It is a comedy,” you retorted, the hint of a challenge in your voice. “You’re the one who insists on putting it in horror.”

“Technically it’s a Christmas movie.” Robin interjected but you two were too into your usual banter to acknowledge her comment.

“It’s literally about monsters terrorizing a town,” he shot back, standing now, clearly ready for this argument.

“And it has a montage set to Christmas music,” you countered, stepping closer, refusing to back down. “Face it, Harrington. It’s a comedy, and your taste is basic.”

Robin watched the exchange with barely concealed amusement, resting her chin on the end of the broom handle. “This is how wars start, you know. One second it’s Gremlins, next thing you know, someone’s annexing the drama section.”

Steve ignored her, crossing his arms as he stared you down, his brown eyes sparkling with exasperation. “Oh, I’m basic? Says the girl who has a Misfits patch on her backpack like every other kid trying too hard to look edgy.”

You scoffed, stepping closer until you were almost nose to nose. “You wouldn’t know edgy if it bit you in the ass, Harrington.”

For a second, the room felt charged, like something was about to snap. Then Robin cleared her throat dramatically, cutting through the tension. “Okay, you two, this isn’t a cage match. Save it for the Halloween crowd this weekend.”

You stepped back, rolling your eyes as you returned to your cart of tapes. “Fine. I’ll let him live another day.”

Steve plopped back onto his stool, muttering under his breath but loud enough for you to hear, “You wish you could take me.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, already halfway down the aisle. “It wouldn’t even be a contest.”

“You know, for someone who spends most of her time glaring at customers, you’ve got a lot to say.”

“Somebody has to keep you on your toes,” you shot back, brushing your hands off and making your way toward the front. You flicked a stray strand of hair out of your face as you passed him. “Besides, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t charm every poor soul who comes in here. It’s starting to get embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Steve feigned offense, placing a hand on his chest. “I’ll have you know, plenty of customers appreciate a little charisma. You could try it sometime.”

“Charisma doesn’t mean flirting with everyone who rents ‘Sixteen Candles,’ Harrington.”

Robin let out a dramatic sigh, looking between the two of you. “I can’t decide if this is banter or foreplay, but either way, it’s exhausting.”

“Foreplay?” Steve sputtered, his cheeks flushing.

“God, no,” you said at the same time, shooting Robin a glare.

Robin laughed, leaning against the counter as Steve sighed, shaking his head with a reluctant smile. Somewhere behind the banter, in the dim light and popcorn butter air, the faintest trace of something real hung between the two of you—something neither of you was ready to admit, least of all to each other.

---

The last few hours of your shift crawled along, with Robin having said her goodbyes twenty minutes earlier and left you and Steve to close up. A post-dinner rush had left the place in chaos, with empty shelves and a mountain of returns now sitting on the counter. Steve, standing at the rewinder machine, was absently humming to himself as you finished putting away the last of your cart.

“Finally done,” you muttered to yourself, dusting your hands off. Just as you started to roll the empty cart back toward the counter, Steve sauntered over with a fresh pile of tapes, all rewound and stacked precariously.

“Perfect timing,” he said, grinning as he plopped them onto the top of your cart. “More work for you.”

Your eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as you stared at the offending pile. “You’re kidding me.”

“What? That’s the system!” he said defensively, his hands going to his hips. It was a classic Harrington move—half annoyed, half clueless.

“Your system sucks,” you shot back, pulling the tapes off the top and setting them on the counter. “And you’re helping.”

“I am helping,” he argued, gesturing to the now-empty rewinder. “I rewound the tapes. That’s like, ninety percent of the job.”

You snorted, grabbing the cart handle with more force than necessary and turning it toward the aisles. “Whatever. I’ll do it myself.”

Halfway to the shelves, you paused, an idea sparking as you glanced back at Steve, who was still standing there with his hands on his hips. “Actually…” you said, setting the cart brake and turning to face him fully.

Steve tilted his head, suspicious. “What?”

“You’re an athlete, right?” you said, your tone dripping with exaggerated innocence. “Former Mr. Cool Guy?”

He frowned. “I don’t like where this is going.”

You grinned, hoisting yourself onto the cart and sitting cross-legged on its flat surface, tapping the metal sides. “Put those skills to use and make this less boring. You push, I steer. I’ll call out the titles; you take me to the aisles.”

Steve’s mouth fell open, his brow furrowing. “Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

“This is dumb,” he said, shaking his head. “What if someone comes in?”

You leaned back, gesturing toward the door with a dramatic flourish. “Steve, it’s Wednesday. It’s 7 p.m. The only person walking through that door is someone too embarrassed to rent their adult movie during daylight hours. And if that happens, do you really want to help them?”

Steve opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed, throwing his hands up. “Fine. But if you fall off, I’m not taking you to the hospital.”

“Noted,” you said, grinning victoriously. “ I always wanted to bleed out in the comedy section anyway.”

With a reluctant groan, Steve walked around the cart and grabbed the handle. “What’s first?”

You picked up the first tape from the stack beside you, holding it up to squint at the title. “Raiders of the Lost Ark. Action-adventure, aisle three.”

“Roger that,” Steve said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he started to push the cart. It wobbled slightly, and you leaned forward to steady yourself, already laughing as he picked up speed.

“Faster, Harrington!” you called, pointing toward the aisle like you were commanding a ship. “Aisle three awaits!”

“This was a mistake,” he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. He slowed as you neared the correct aisle, and you held the tape out dramatically, like a torch.

“Here we are!” you declared. “Place the artifact on its rightful throne.”

Steve grabbed the tape from your hand, muttering something about your flair for the dramatic as he slid it onto the shelf. When he turned back to you, you were already holding up the next tape.

“Ready for the next one?” you asked, wiggling the VHS case.

Steve let out a long-suffering sigh but grabbed the cart handle again, a reluctant grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “This is going to be the longest close ever.”

“Yeah, but you’re having fun,” you teased.

He didn’t respond, but the way his lips twitched into a full smile as he started pushing again gave you all the answer you needed.

Steve pushed the cart into the Drama aisle, his grip on the handle loose as he rolled his eyes at your smug expression. You waved The Breakfast Club over your head like a trophy, already looking triumphant.

“Drama section, as requested,” he said, stopping with a slight flourish. “But I’m just saying… it could also go in Romance.”

You nearly fell off the cart from how hard you laughed. “Romance? That’s what you got out of it? You think it’s about Claire and Bender hooking up?”

Steve raised a brow, his hands moving to his hips in that classic, I’m about to defend myself stance. “What? No, that’s not all it’s about. But it is a part of it. Opposites attract, right?”

You tilted your head, grinning like you’d just been handed the perfect opportunity to roast him. “Oh, sure. Opposites attract. That’s definitely a trope worth rooting for,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Especially when it’s just code for ‘the weird girl has to completely change herself to be worth the jock’s attention.’”

Steve frowned, clearly thrown off. “You’re talking about the makeover thing?”

“Obviously,” you said, flopping dramatically against the back of the cart, the metal sides rattling under your weight. “She was perfectly fine as she was—better, even. Then suddenly she gets some preppy glow-up, and boom, Emilio Estevez notices her. It’s such crap.”

He was quiet for a beat, like he was actually chewing on your words. His lips pressed into a line, and then, unexpectedly, he nodded. “I mean… I agree with you. She looked out of place like that. It wasn’t really her.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his response. “Wait… you agree with me?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, shrugging. “I mean, she didn’t need all that. She was cooler before.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip. His tone wasn’t teasing or defensive—it was sincere. He looked at you with this genuine expression, like he actually cared about what you thought. The space between you suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, and the quiet made your skin prickle in a way you weren’t used to.

Then Steve broke the tension with a smirk, shifting back to lean casually against the handle of the cart. “So, what I’m hearing is… you must hate Grease too, huh? Sandy changes everything for Danny at the end. That must drive you nuts.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, sitting up straighter and gripping the sides of the cart like you were preparing for battle. “Oh, don’t get me started on Grease, Harrington.”

His grin widened, and he gestured with one hand for you to continue, clearly enjoying this way too much. “By all means, let it out. This should be good.”

You took a deep breath, ready to launch into a full tirade about the crime that was Sandy’s transformation, while Steve leaned against the cart, laughing softly under his breath before you’d even said a word.

---

Steve jiggled the lock on the front doors, pulling them to test if they were secure before flipping off the outside lights. The neon "OPEN" sign fizzled out with a soft hum, leaving the store bathed in the sterile glow of its overhead fluorescents. He sighed as he turned the "CLOSED" sign around and shot a glance your way.

You were standing at the counter, finishing up the register deposit you’d started early since the rush had ended hours ago. You hummed quietly to yourself, seemingly in a good mood, which was rare for a late-night shift.

“Got any costume ideas for Halloween?” you asked as you counted the last stack of bills. “Since we get to dress up here and all.”

Steve leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Robin and I are going as pirates,” he said, his voice flat. “Her idea.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Let me guess. She’s all excited, and you’re just going along with it because you have no spine?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, though there was a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “She’s got this whole ‘Captain Robin and First Mate Dingus’ bit planned. It’s exhausting.”

You snorted, finishing the deposit and closing the register drawer. “Well, I’m going as a devil. Simple, classic, but I gotta tone it down a little so Keith doesn’t spend the entire shift staring at my chest.”

Steve went stiff for a moment, muttering something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch.

“What?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, straightening. “So, uh, are you done with that?”

“Just about,” you said, locking the deposit bag and setting it aside for the morning shift. Your eyes drifted to the cart in the middle of the store, still loaded with a few stray tapes. “Looks like we’re not done with that, though.”

Steve followed your gaze and sighed. “Oh, great. More cart rides.”

You grinned, hopping back onto the cart and gesturing for him to take the handle. “You’re the one who insisted on delegating, remember? Now push.”

With another sigh—this one more dramatic than the first—Steve complied, wheeling you toward the horror section. You rifled through the tapes on the cart, calling out titles as he brought you to the correct spots. It went smoothly until you reached for the next tape and froze, reading the title aloud before you could stop yourself.

“Blondes in Heat?” you said, eyebrows shooting up. Your gaze darted to the rest of the tapes on the cart. “Oh, no.”

Steve groaned, already knowing what was coming. “Yeah, I’ll take care of those.”

You shook your head, holding up the tape with a smirk. “It’s fine, I can do it.”

“Seriously,” Steve said, his tone a little sharper. “I’ll handle it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, shrugging. “I’ve seen porn before, Steve.”

His eyes widened, and he stumbled over his words for a second before recovering. “What—you—you’ve—okay, I mean—”

“Relax, Harrington,” you said, clearly amused at his reaction. “You’re not the only person in Hawkins with a VHS player and curiosity.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, his face slightly pink. “I wasn’t—okay, fine. Just—don’t make it weird.”

You laughed, waving him off. “It’s not weird. Now push the cart.”

Grumbling something under his breath, Steve resumed pushing, steering you toward the back corner of the store where the beaded curtain waited. The clinking of the beads was just faint enough to make you second-guess the idea, but you straightened your shoulders and braced yourself. The cart rattled slightly as Steve slowed, and you gave him a look over your shoulder.

“C’mon, Harrington. It’s just tapes.”

The dim lighting of the ‘adult’ section made the whole thing feel way more awkward than it should have been. You broke the silence once more as Steve pushed the cart, and you, to one of the corners and had you hand him the tapes.

“You know, a place called ‘Family Video’ having a section for porn is a little weird.” You say as he shelves Blondes in Heat.

“Can you stop saying porn?” he sighs over his shoulder before walking back to you.

"Oh, I'm sorry. What would you rather me call it? The erotic arts? Adult features?"

"Just shut up," Steve says, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

You hand him the next tape, which you had been staring at with an amused smirk. "How to Satisfy a Woman in Six Minutes or Less? Really?"

Steve groaned. "God, you're such a pain."

"I'm just saying. Unrealistic. Also why the rush?"

"Oh, my God. Shut up!" Steve says, trying not to laugh.

"What? I'm being serious! Six minutes is a lot to ask. That's barely any time for foreplay, and I don't think anyone wants a half-assed—"

"I am not talking about sex with you!" he says, a little too loudly.

You bite back a laugh. "Why not? It's not weird. I'm sure it's not even the most awkward conversation you've had this week."

He turns, an eyebrow raised. "Oh, really?"

"Uh-huh. Remember when Robin told you and Dustin the difference between tampons and pads?"

Steve visibly winced at the memory. "Okay, fair point."

"See? Not weird," you said, handing him the next tape. 

"Yeah, sure," Steve said, rolling his eyes as he took the tape and glanced at the cover. Then his eyes went wide, and his whole body seemed to freeze.

"What? What's wrong?" you asked, trying to peek at the case. "Don't tell me it's worse than the last one. Oh, is it—"

"It's nothing," Steve said quickly, cutting you off as he turned away.

"Uh-uh," you said, jumping off the cart and walking around so you could see the front. "I want to see."

"No, no way."

"If it's really nothing, then why can't I see it?" you challenged, crossing your arms.

"Because I said so!" Steve shot back, his voice high and panicked.

"Fine. Hand it over," you demanded, holding out your hand.

"No."

"Yes."

"No, really, I—"

"Steven Harrington," you snapped, your patience running thin. "If you don't give me that tape right now, I will—"

"Alright, fine! Just stop yelling," Steve sighed, relenting as he shoved the tape into your hand. You stared at him, surprised.

"I yelled once."

"Still."

"Whatever."

You glanced down, and immediately, you felt your own body freeze. In a flash, the situation felt way too real.

Because staring up at you from the tape cover was an image of a girl who could've been you, if her hair was a different color. A girl, sprawled out on her back, naked. The camera angle was positioned above her, the lens angled to give the viewer a full view of her body—her face, her breasts, her legs spread wide.

Your face was on fire, your mouth suddenly dry. Beside you, Steve shifted nervously, and it occurred to you that you were both just staring silently at a porno tape that was clearly made for a specific audience.

"Uh... this is awkward," you finally managed, your voice a little hoarse.

Steve made a sound that was half laugh, half strangled cry. "Yeah, I could've done without the reminder, honestly."

You shot him a confused look. "Reminder?"

He waved his hands in front of him, clearly flustered. "No, that's not what I meant. I just meant—forget it. Forget I said anything. Can we please move on?"

"Not yet," you said, narrowing your eyes. "What do you mean, reminder? Is there a girl in pornos who looks like me or something?"

"Uh... maybe," Steve said, wincing. "But it's not weird, or whatever. It's totally normal. I just... happened watch this one. I wasn't trying to... or anything. I didn't realize..."

He was rambling, and it was kind of adorable. But there was also something about his nervous energy that made your skin prickle in the best way.

"So, if I look like this girl..." you said, letting the words hang as you tilted your head and met his gaze, which was locked onto yours.

"Yeah?" he breathed, swallowing thickly.

You stepped closer, holding his gaze. "Does that mean you've thought about me like that?"

"What?" Steve said, his voice cracking. "No. No way. Of course not. Why would I—"

"Liar."

Your tone was gentle, playful. It was a challenge, not an accusation. Steve's lips parted slightly, but he didn't respond, his eyes still locked on yours. You tried to keep a straight face, but you couldn't help the laugh that escaped you.

"You know- just give me that." Steve said, snatching the tape back. You watched him shove it onto the shelf, the movement quick and jerky.

"Hey, I'm just teasing! It's not that serious." You say, hands up in mock defense as you walk backwards and hop back up to sit on the cart.

"Shut up," he muttered, his cheeks flushed.

You bit your lip, unable to stop grinning. "Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

"Yeah, well, it's not funny."

You tilted your head, watching him as he fiddled with the shelf, his eyes not meeting yours. There was a vulnerability there, and a hint of shame. He looked almost hurt.

"Okay, seriously," you said, leaning forward and catching his gaze. "I didn't mean to actually upset you."

You hand him the next tape, attempting to make a joke about the absurd cover, but he just gives a noncommittal shrug. You frown.

"Steve, come on," you say, trying again. "I was just playing around. If it's really bothering you, I'll stop."

"It's not that," he said, shaking his head.

"Then what is it?"

He looked away, his jaw tight. You waited, giving him the space to say what he needed to. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, his words heavy with frustration.

"It's stupid," he said, still not meeting your gaze. "I just... we never talk about this stuff, okay? And then, the first time we do, it's because you think I'm some perv who gets off on looking at girls who look like you."

You blinked, caught off guard. "I... did not think that."

"Well, you should have," he snapped, turning to face you fully, his eyes burning. "Because that's how everyone thinks of me, isn't it? Steve Harrington, the former king of Hawkins High, screwing anything that moves."

You swallowed, not knowing what to say. Naturally, you went with humor to deflect.

"I mean if it helps, I've seen your luck with women lately, so I definitely don't think that..."

"Stop. Just—stop," Steve sighed, sounding exasperated. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. This is all we ever do. We can't have a serious conversation without joking about it, and it drives me insane."

You uncrossed your legs on the cart and let them dangle, leaning back against the wall of tapes, taken aback by his sudden honesty. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched. You had known each other through school, been friendly since he started at the store in July, but this was the first time he had ever really opened up. It was new, and a little scary, and definitely not something you knew how to deal with.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, and you meant it. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"Yeah, well," Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not the best at sharing. Ask anyone."

"Hey, I've got no room to talk," you said, smiling a little. "I've kept my walls pretty high too, I think."

"You're not wrong."

The air hung heavy between you. Steve shifted, his eyes darting from the cart to the shelves, clearly feeling just as awkward as you were.

"You know that the person you were in high school doesn't, like, define you right?" you offered, your voice quiet. "Like, I don't think of you as 'King Steve' or anything."

"Really?" he asked, his brow furrowing skeptically.

"Yeah," you said, nodding. "I mean, we work together. I get to see all of you. The Steve who's actually really good at his job, and a surprisingly good teacher when you're helping Robin study, and an actual nerd about movies. Plus, y'know, the dingus pirate."

Steve rolled his eyes but grinned a little.

"And I mean, maybe you'd have better luck if you were that guy when you tried to uh, pick up women. The fake charm kinda just... doesn't work with this version of you."

"Gee, thanks," he said, feigning annoyance.

"No, I mean it in a good way," you assured him. "I think you're more real like this."

He was quiet for a moment, chewing his lip. Then, unexpectedly, he reached for the next tape and you went to grab it from the dwindling stack. You handed him the tape, your fingertips brushing his palm, and a rush of heat flooded your cheeks.

Get it together, you told yourself. You're not suddenly crushing on the guy because he showed a little vulnerability are you?

Steve, oblivious, flipped the case over, studying the cover. "Okay, so this one is... not great," he said, shaking his head. "I've had the misfortune of having to put away more than one."

"Oh, boy," you said, laughing. "I'm ready."

"Okay, here goes," he said, turning the case toward you. "Blonde Bimbo Gets Banged."

"Jesus Christ," you snorted. "Is there any way this can get worse?"

"Let's find out," Steve said, flipping the case back and reading the synopsis. "She's blonde. She's a bimbo. And she knows it. She likes to flaunt her blonde beauty. Her boyfriend knows she's a whore, and that's just the way he likes her. They get wild and hot together, and soon the whole gang is banging the blonde bimbo."

"Jesus Christ how many times do they have to say 'blonde' in one synopsis. Does the target audience have the memory of a goldfish? Does this company need a new marketing team?"

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, it gets worse. The reviews call this a 'stand-out-of-the-pack classic.'"

"Please don't make me read the rest," you said, waving you hand in front of your face while laughing. "I'm already scarred."

"You wanted to know," Steve said, his lips pressed into a line to keep from laughing.

"You're right. I did. I shouldn't have."

You two fell back into a comfortable silence, and you found yourself studying Steve as he went about his task, staocking the last of the tapes neatly on the shelf. He had always been attractive, but he was starting to feel realer. You could see the details of him now, the cracks and rough edges and the parts of him he'd rather not share. It was a dangerous thought, and you knew it. He was still your coworker, after all. And, maybe, your friend?

You watched him finish shelving the last tape, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly with the movement, and your stomach did a somersault.

Oh no.

Steve turned and noticed you staring. He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

You shook your head. "Nothing. I was just zoned out, I guess."

"Right," he said, clearly unconvinced. But he didn't push it.

"Last one," you say as your got to hand it to him. "And the survey says... oh. Wow."

"What is it?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Oh, no, it's just this is the first time we've actually stocked something decent," you say, turning the case toward him. "Like, this one doesn't make me want to scrub my brain out with soap."

Steve studied the case, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, yeah. I've seen this one."

"Really?" you asked, surprised.

"Yeah, it's actually pretty good," he admitted. "There's, like, a plot and everything."

"You don't say," you said, smirking. "Maybe we should put this in the Romance section."

Steve rolled his eyes, shelving the movie. "Okay, wiseass."

"I'm just saying. Plot, characters, and actual sex? That's practically a Jackie Collins novel."

"Very funny," Steve said, walking back toward the cart. You were still sitting on the edge, the wheels of the cart rattling slightly.

"Huh. We actually got through the whole cart," you said, grinning a little. "Go us."

"Yeah," Steve agreed, leaning his hands against the cart and looking over at the shelf. "That was surprisingly easy."

"We're a pretty good team," you pointed out.

"Yeah, we are."

You leaned back a little, balancing yourself on your hands and studying Steve. He seemed to be doing the same, his gaze locked on yours. The air felt thick, heavy, and somehow electric. You could practically feel the sparks.

"We should, um," Steve swallowed thickly, glancing over at the beaded curtain that led out to the main sales floor. "We should probably get to the front."

"Yeah," you agreed, though neither of you moved.

You held his gaze, and he held yours, the tension between you was overwhelming, and intoxicating, and you could barely breathe.

"You got a deposit to finish..." he whispered, his voice low.

"Yeah, the main lights are still on," you said, your throat dry.

Neither of you moved. You could feel the pull, the urge to close the space, the electricity between you threatening to overload. Your pulse was racing, your skin tingling. You wondered if he could hear the thunder of your heart, if he could feel the warmth of your breath on his lips.

"This is dumb," he murmured.

"So dumb," you breathed.

"We're not gonna..."

"Yeah, we're not..."

And then his lips were on yours, and everything else faded away. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle but firm, and the world seemed to stop. His mouth was soft, the kiss slow, lingering. You melted into him, letting him guide the pace, savoring every second. He tasted like coffee and popcorn and something sweet, and the scent of his cologne surrounded you, enveloping you.

When you finally pulled apart, your lips felt swollen, and you were breathless. Your eyes fluttered open, and you stared at each other, the air crackling around you.

"We are so fucking dumb," he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours, a small, amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

You laughed, feeling giddy. "The dumbest. We should probably stop."

"Probably," he murmured. But his lips found yours again, his hand drifting into your hair, his fingers curling. You grabbed a fistful of his uniform vest, pulling him closer. He pressed into you, the pressure of him against your chest, between your legs, made your body ache. You moaned softly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue darting along your lower lip. You could feel his smirk as your lips parted, giving him access to the rest of your mouth. His tongue grazed yours, teasing, exploring. His free hand ran up the outside of your leg, his palm hot on your thigh even through the denim of your jeans. You arched against him, craving the friction, the feel of his weight, and he pushed back.

You tugged on his vest, and without breaking the kiss, he clumsily shed it and tossed it aside, his arms then circling your waist. Your hands slid under the hem of his shirt, and you shivered at the contact with his bare skin. He sucked on your lower lip, making you gasp. Your fingertips dug into the muscle of his back, and he pressed harder into you. His body was solid, but soft, and he still held you so carefully. You wanted more of him, all of him, everything.

One of his hands moved to you shoulder to take the same hideous Family Video vest off of you. He broke the kiss only to make sure that he didn't rip it or pop one of your many pins off while doing so, putting it on the bottom of the cart. The careful action made you giggle. He smiled down at you before capturing your mouth in another heated kiss. You pressed your tongue into his mouth this time, running it along his bottom lip. He moaned softly, pulling you even tighter against him.

Your fingers raked down his back, nails grazing the smooth skin, and he moaned into your mouth, grinding his hips into you. The friction of him between your legs sent a shiver of pleasure through your whole body, and you groaned. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs so that he could fit himself perfectly against you. He pressed hard, his body hot between your thighs, his chest pressed to your chest, his mouth on your mouth.

He rocked his hips into you, the slow friction driving you wild, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding on as he pressed his full weight against you, pinning you on the cart between him and the shelves. Your fingers gripped his shoulders as he moved again, his hands moving down to grip your hips. You could feel his arousal growing, and you shifted to match his pace, his hips rolling into you as yours rocked up to meet them, creating the perfect amount of friction, the pressure building with every thrust. You whimpered against his mouth as his fingers dug into your thighs.

"God, I want you," he breathed between kisses, his voice husky, sending a fresh wave of heat through your core.

"We—we have to—" you gasped, your words catching in your throat as he ground against you again, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Yeah," he breathed, nodding. His hands moved to your waist, pushing your shirt up and running his palms up the exposed skin, his thumbs grazing the soft skin of your stomach that that swelled gently over the waistband of your jeans, his touch reverent as he let his thumbs trace lazy circles there. You pulled away at the contact, suddenly feeling self concious with his hands on your exposed skin.

"Woah.. is this okay?" he asked, his voice a little strained. "If you're not—"

"It's not you, it's just..." you swallowed, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "I've never been with someone... like you before. Someone who... has expectations..."

His hands slid out from under your shirt as he took a step back, confusion on his face. "Wait, what?"

"I mean," you continued, struggling to find the right words, "You're so attractive, and I'm..." You gestured to your body with an open palm, not even able to find the words to express how self-concious you were about your body compared to the girls that usually got his attention. "You know," you finally added. "Me. So... I mean, I just want you to be sure, because..."

Steve's eyebrows pulled together in concern, his voice suddenly very serious. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean."

"No," he shook his head. "No, I really don't."

You stared at him for a moment, surprised, and then your eyes dropped to your hands, which were clasped in front of you. Your nails had been painted black with silver glitter, and the edges of your fingertips were rough, worn down from anxiously picking at them for so many years. Your thighs, while sat on the cart, pressed together, the soft curve of them spilling slightly over the edge, a reminder of how you never felt like you fit the mold of what guys like Steve usually went for. You thought about the way your jeans pinched at your waist or how you always avoided certain angles in photos because they made your arms look bigger than you liked. Your stomach churned at the idea of him seeing all of you—every mark, every curve, every imperfection that you’d tried so hard to ignore but couldn’t help cataloging in moments like this.

“I just…” you started again, your voice quieter now, “I don’t want you to feel like this is a mistake. Like maybe the weird girl is hot when you're at work, but in the real world...” You trailed off, biting your lip hard to keep it from trembling.

Steve crouched slightly to meet your gaze, his hands gentle as they rested on your thighs, grounding you. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady but insistent. “Look at me.”

When your eyes finally met his, the warmth in his expression nearly unraveled you. “You think I’m going to change my mind just because we take our clothes off? I'm rock hard in the middle of an adult section that smells like stale popcorn, and you think that's going to go away when your clothes are off? Really?" He asked incredulously, pausing to laugh at his own words. "That's pretty bold of you to assume."

Your breath hitched at the words. At his touch. The way his voice softened around your name. "Steve..."

"Seriously," he said, leaning a little closer. His voice was quiet now, almost a whisper, and his eyes darted between your eyes and your lips, his hands still gently kneading your thighs. "It's you that should be careful. I mean... I can barely focus on anything when you're just standing around in these jeans," he admitted, his eyes moving to your legs, his palms slowly moving up the curve of them. You bit your lip, heat flaring low in your stomach. "But naked?" His eyes returned to yours, his voice suddenly rough. "I wouldn't stand a chance."

Before you could even respond, he closed the distance, pressing his mouth to yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, his hands gently kneading the tops of your thighs. You moaned softly at his touch, your arms sliding over his shoulders and tangling in his hair as you melted against him. He wrapped one arm around you, pulling you to him, the other hand sliding up your waist.

"Now," he whispered against your lips as he went to lift your shirt a little again. "Can I continue where I left off, please?"

You smiled, kissing him in reply. You parted your lips, deepening the kiss. He moaned against your lips, his hand slowly trailing up your waist again, lifting your shirt up more this time. Your body tingled in anticipation of his hands on your skin, his fingertips warm on your bare stomach, slowly trailing up to your ribs, then higher still, his thumb brushing the edge of the cup of your bra.

Your head tipped back as he broke the kiss to trace his tongue over your collar bone, then dipped lower, his breath hot on the exposed skin as his thumb gently brushed your nipple through your bra, your back arching slightly at the sensation. He pressed another kiss to your throat, and you moaned as his hand dipped under your bra, cupping your breast and kneading the soft skin.

You slid a hand under his shirt, trailing your fingertips across his waist, tracing the trail of hair that lead lower, the muscles in his stomach contracting at your touch. His hand on your waist tugged at the hem of your shirt, and you took the hint, reluctantly pulling away for a moment to peel the fabric over your head. Steve let out a low groan at the sight of you in your bra, and you smiled shyly, letting him take a moment to appreciate your newly exposed skin. His hand went to the back of your neck, his touch firm, grounding as he leaned in to kiss you again. His free hand found its way to your other breast, palming it and gently tugging your bra strap down.

You were both panting now, his fingers on you and your fingers on him, and your whole body throbbing for more. You ran your palm along the front of his jeans, feeling the outline of him straining against the denim. His mouth left yours and moved to the skin above your bra as his hand left your chest and fumbled for the clasp at your back. You ran your nails over the front of his jeans, your own pulse racing. You had to touch him, you had to see him. Your fingers found his belt, but it was difficult to work with his hands on you and your mind a haze of arousal and nerves.

He seemed to be having the same problem, because after a few more attempts he stopped trying to work your bra clasp and tugged impatiently at the fabric, his voice husky.

"This—can you take this off? Or should we move? Because I can't—"

"Here," you gasped, shifting slightly and turning so your back was to him. "Try again."

Steve hummed softly in acknowledgement, his breath tickling your shoulder as he worked to free you from the offending fabric, his touch feather light and torturously slow. You leaned forward a little, letting your hair fall in a curtain over your face so he wouldn't see how much his teasing was affecting you. But you could feel the wetness between your legs, the ache of anticipation making your knees weak. Finally, with a quiet, satisfied noise, he freed you from your bra, and you sat back against the self again, letting your hair swing back to frame your face again as you watched his reaction to your body.

Steve's mouth dropped open at the sight of you, the slow grin tugging at his lips doing nothing to ease the ache.

"Well, this isn't fair," he breathed, standing straighter with one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair, as if to calm himself down. He looked over you as you leaned back, braced against your elbows. He then let out a long, deep exhale, his hands moving back to take his own shirt off. He paused about halfway through the motion to peer down at you, looking a little ridiculous with the collar halfway up his face, one arm free.

"Oh shit, sorry, did you want my shirt off too, or did you want me to leave it on, or—"

"Shirt. Off. Please," you said quickly. Steve grinned and finished the motion, tugging the tshirt off and letting it hit the floor. Your eyes darted to his torso, his skin flushed and his chest heaving slightly from the anticipation. He had a nice, lean build, with broad shoulders and a surprisingly strong-looking core. His chest hair was a light dusting that trailed across his pecs and tapered into a faint line down the center of his stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. It added to his charm, giving him an effortlessly masculine edge. Your fingers twitched with the urge to touch him, to feel the softness of his skin under your palms, to trace the faint lines of his muscles beneath.

He definitely noticed you staring because he started grinning again, and when you noticed, he laughed a little. "What? Never seen a guy naked before?" he asked teasingly, making a joke of it to cover up the fact that he was suddenly a little self conscious under your scrutiny.

"You're beautiful." It spilled out of your mouth before you could stop it, and he looked surprised by the sincerity. His hands froze in mid-air and his eyes darted to yours. He opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out, so instead he cleared his throat and grinned shyly at the ground.

"Okay," he said, clearly trying to collect himself, and you realized that he'd been flustered. By you. A wave of pride flooded your stomach, and you bit your lip as your smile grew wider. You weren't usually so forward, and it had surprised you too, but you were glad it came out. "Okay. Let me just, uh, find my brain."

"You left it over there, on the floor. With your shirt." You smirked at him and his eyes narrowed at the playful teasing. He bent down to place both his hands on either side of you on the cart, caging you in as he leaned closer to you and pressed his forehead to yours. He gave a slight push of his hips against you, just to make you aware of how much you were affecting him, before cupping one of your breasts in his hand and letting out a breath. He took your nipple in his fingers and rolled it gently. You moaned at his touch, your thighs spreading a little wider.

The sound was affirmation enough for him to take your other nipple in his mouth, and you leaned into his touch as he circled his tongue around you. His teeth grazed over it, biting just slightly and making you whimper with need. You could feel him smirk against your skin, and he slid his free hand down to your stomach, then lower. His fingers grazed over your jeans and pressed firmly against you through the thick denim.

He paused with his hand right above your waistband and he lifted his head to look into your eyes. He was clearly trying to make sure that he wasn't overstepping any boundaries and was silently asking for permission to keep going.

"You can always say no." His voice was barely more than a whisper as his fingers played with the button of your pants, not wanting to rush you.

You didn't hesitate, just leaned into him and whispered, "Please touch me. Please."

He gave a low groan, pressing a hard kiss to your lips and biting down on your lower lip, before breaking away and dropping his gaze to your jeans. You watched, biting your lip as he flicked open the button, pulling down the zipper, and slipping his fingers underneath the fabric of both your jeans and your underwear. He dragged a single finger over the slick, swollen heat between your legs, and you let out a shaky breath. He sucked in a breath, clearly affected, and then dipped his finger lower to stroke along your entrance. You shivered, letting out a low moan and trying to pull him closer.

You felt his breath hot on your shoulder as his other hand moved to tug the rest of your pants off, giving him easier access to you.

"So wet already," he breathed, and the feel of his lips moving against the soft skin of your shoulder made your thighs twitch, the tension of anticipation nearly overwhelming. He traced circles around your entrance with one finger before pushing in slowly. His movements were cautious at first, gauging your reaction as he worked up a slow pace. But it wasn't enough, not when you'd been craving the release for what felt like forever. You spread your thighs, trying to pull him closer.

"More," you breathed, gripping his wrist to guide him deeper, faster, harder. Steve gave a low moan as his finger curled inside you, finding that one spot that made your whole body ache with pleasure. He added a second finger, pushing deep and pumping into you again and again as you ground your hips up to meet him, chasing the feeling, desperate for more. You looked up to find him watching you, his lips parted and his pupils blown wide.

He leaned down to kiss you again, and the change in angle sent a new wave of heat through your core, a whimper escaping you. His free hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you into him and holding you steady as he pressed his thumb to your clit. You cried out at the new sensation, and Steve broke the kiss to let you breathe, his lips still pressed against yours, your breath mingling in the space between. His eyes locked on yours, he curled his fingers again and began working them in earnest, the heel of his palm pressed hard against you as his fingers pushed deeper and deeper with every thrust.

The pleasure was building, every nerve on fire as your orgasm neared, every stroke of his hand, every graze of his thumb making the tension build higher. His fingers moved faster, and you moaned his name, clinging to his shoulder, his arm, your hips rising to meet his hand.

"You're like...way too good at this..." You breathed between whimpers. Steve grinned, slowing his movements and teasing you.

"Well, I do have a pretty decent reputation..."

You gave a frustrated growl at the sudden slow down.

"Steve," you whined.

He chuckled softly. "Mm-mm," he hummed against your ear, nipping at it as he slowly slid his fingers out. "Not so fast."

"Are you... you're really doing this? Now?" you panted, incredulous. You needed more of him, more of his touch, more of the release you had been so close to, but now he was denying you? You opened your eyes, watching as he grinned down at you while he began to unbutton his jeans, still wearing a smug expression as he slowly pushed them down over his hips and down his legs. Your eyes darted from his face to the obvious bulge in his boxers as you swallowed.

"You want to keep complaining?" He asked, pulling down the boxers a little before taking himself in his hand and slowly pumping once, twice. His eyes never left yours, the grin you were used to seeing every day coming back "Because we can stop."

You couldn't even pretend to be angry as your gaze flicked between his face and his cock.

"Oh. You are... that's..." you stammered, taking a second to drink in the sight of him, so close but still so far from where you needed him. The smug grin turned genuine at your reaction and he pumped himself a few more times as if he was putting on a show for you. He let go of himself to slide his boxers all the way down and then stepped out of them to kick them to the side. He put his hands on sides of the cart and gave it a small shove, testing its durability, which illicited a small laugh from you.

"What's wrong? Not confident that we can stay in one piece for a few more minutes?" You teased. He scoffed in mock offense, giving you a quick kiss that lingered as he pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth.

"It's just precaution. Don't want you complaining if I get too excited and end up breaking this thing." He pulled away slowly, looking at the cart for a moment, thinking. "Actually, maybe I can—"

You wrapped a leg around his waist before he could finish his thought, pulling him to you so he was nestled perfectly against your hips. "You could also start with taking these off me," you suggested, grabbing the sides of your panties and tugging at the fabric. Steve let out a breath, his hands immediately moving to help you, though his mind was clearly distracted by what he wanted to do next. You watched as he pulled down the fabric over your hips, then your thighs, before dropping it on top of your jeans. His eyes trailed over the newly exposed skin, a look of pure desire on his face, his gaze hungry.

"God," he breathed. "You are..."

But you never found out what he was going to say, because your impatient hands had found him again, and you were pumping him slowly, watching him shiver in anticipation. His fingers dug into your hips, his mouth dropping open slightly, his gaze locked on yours as you moved, letting the feeling of your touch overwhelm him for a moment before he pulled your hand away with a small chuckle.

"Fuck. I almost forgot..." He bent to find his jeans and fished around in his back pocket. When he pulled his wallet free, your eyes went wide as you realized what he was getting. He held the square, foil wrapper in front of him.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he went to open the wrapper with his teeth.

"You brought a condom to work with you? Why would you ever think you'd need it here? In Family Video?" You questioned as he opened the packet, spitting the excess foil to the side, before looking at you with a lopsided smile.

"What, you think I put it there just in case we ran out of videos to restock? I had it there for after work one day, just in case," he explained as if it was the most obvious thing. You rolled your eyes, smiling and giving a slight laugh. "I mean, not with you. Not like... I had it there just in case I went on a date." He paused to wince a little. "Wait, no, that doesn't sound any better, does it?"

"I get what you're trying to say," you reassured him as you laughed a little harder, before the conversation took a slightly serious turn.

You glanced between the condom he was holding in his hand, and him. He was hard, aching even, and he looked desperate for your touch. You felt a small wave of pride that you could turn him on so much, and that you had the opportunity to be with him like this. To touch him and be touched.

You licked your lips, then said, "Put it on."

You felt like a teenager again, waiting with bated breath while he carefully slipped on the condom, his own breath shuddering as his fingers moved along his cock. When he finished, he leaned over you, caging you against the shelf once again with his arms on either side of your waist.

"For the record, I was hoping to take you on a date before… this happened. After work some time. Y'know, really take you out. Watch a movie with you, get dinner, go back to my car," He whispered the last bit into your ear, before kissing it gently and adding, "maybe get you in the backseat. But we can save that for another night."

You were too caught up in the feel of him against you to fully process what he just implied. A second night. This wouldn't just be a one time thing, you'd get to do this again... and maybe more?

Before you could react to that, you felt Steve line up at your entrance and your brain seemed to go on autopilot, your focus shifting to how you were about to get exactly what you needed. Your legs parted a little more, your heels resting against the lower shelves for leverage, your back arching slightly so your chest pressed against his. He paused there, looking down at you for a moment. Your breath caught at his expression—he was watching you intently, his gaze fixed on your face, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed.

"You want this, right?" The genuine question took you aback. The vulnerability was back in his eyes, and it suddenly became clear to you how nervous he was. "I just want to be sure this isn't—"

"Steve," you said, cupping his face in your hand. "Yes. I want this."

His breath left him in a rush as his lips curled into a smile, his relief clear. Then he gave a slight push of his hips and began to slide into you. His cock started to stretch you out, his length filling you inch by inch, and you whimpered at the feeling, the sensation of him inside you so overwhelming after having gone so long without being with anyone yourself. Steve stopped, his head falling to your shoulder as he groaned.

"Oh, god... you feel... Jesus, you're—" he was breathing hard, his chest pressed to yours, his hands gripping the shelf. His cock pulsed inside you, and you were trembling from the tension of it, the sweet ache of being filled, the need to have him buried in you fully. You slid your hands up his back and wrapped your arms around him, holding him as close to you as possible. He let out a ragged breath, then pressed a soft kiss to the curve of your neck, just below your jaw.

"Are you okay? Is it too much? We can stop—"

"I'm okay, just please—"

"What? Anything, just say—"

"Please keep going. Please," you whimpered. Your thighs twitched around him and you tried to pull him deeper, your body aching for him, for release. The angle was different and new, and it felt incredible. "I need more... please, I want you, all of you... "

Your words spurred him on. His mouth found your neck, sucking lightly at the spot just below your ear as he slowly thrust deeper, and deeper, until he was buried inside you. You felt your inner muscles stretch to accommodate his size, the pressure making you gasp as your legs quivered and your body flushed. Steve groaned, his breathing ragged, his body taut as he waited for you to adjust, every muscle in his back tense.

"God, I don't know how long I can hold out," he whispered.

"Then don't," you said. Your nails dug into his skin and you clenched around his cock. Steve bit down on your shoulder as he began to thrust in long, hard strokes, the friction making your legs tremble as you tried to keep up.

He pressed you to him, his arm looped under your waist, pulling you down on his length, the slow slide making you see stars. His hand snaked down between you, finding your clit and stroking you as he began to pick up the pace, the pressure building with every thrust. His moans were quieter now, more breathy as he drove into you over and over, the rhythm steady as he fucked you in time to the thud of the shelf against the wall.

You could feel yourself approaching the edge, every nerve tingling, every inch of you burning for release. The pressure of his body on yours, the way he moved, his moans, his scent, his hands—everything was pushing you higher, faster. His cock twitched inside you and you moaned, your own orgasm building with every stroke, every thrust, every touch. His pace became more erratic as you moved against him, your legs spread, your back arched, the angle deep and intense.

"I'm... fuck, I'm going to..." he managed between pants. "I want you... to come first..."

The way his voice shook, his hips stuttering with the effort of holding himself back, made your chest swell. He wanted you to finish before him, he wanted you to feel good. And it did, it felt good—so good, too good. Your heart hammered in your chest, the pressure of it making you feel like it might burst. He pushed harder, his fingers moving faster on your clit.

"Steve—" His name escaped your lips, breathy, as your body started to unravel. The tension in your core built higher, your hips jerking, the shelf hitting the wall harder. Your vision blurred as a wave of pleasure rolled through you, and you gasped his name again as you came around him, your body shuddering. Your muscles clamped down hard, making his pace stutter as he tried to push through. Steve groaned, his forehead resting on yours, his fingers digging into your side. He kept his pace even, thrusting through the aftershocks and holding you through your release, his mouth hovering near yours as he panted and moaned. You slid your arms to his back and raked your nails down, dragging your hands across the planes of his body, reveling in how his muscles twitched as your touch moved along his spine and to his ass, and you pulled him in deeper.

The angle was different now, the pressure intense as his pace sped up and he started chasing his own orgasm, his cock filling you up completely and sliding against every inch of you, sending another wave of pleasure through you. He looked so beautiful above you, his hair disheveled and falling in front of his face, his expression pinched as his pace increased. You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him closer and pressed a soft kiss to his neck. The tender touch made him shiver, and he pushed in hard and fast, his whole body going tense as his cock pulsed, the waves of his own release flooding through him. He moaned softly and your name tumbled from his lips.

For a moment you stayed there, his arms around you, his face pressed into your shoulder. Then, as the aftershocks ebbed away, he pulled out, giving you one last slow stroke as he did so. The loss of his touch made you whimper. You felt so empty now, aching for him, and you couldn't help but feel a little vulnerable at the thought of him pulling away from you. Steve stayed close for a moment longer, kissing you softly, tenderly, and you could feel your heart clench. He wasn't rushing off, he wasn't pushing you away. He was taking care of you.

Your body hummed with the lingering buzz of pleasure as Steve pulled off the condom, knotted the end, and threw it into the wastebasket in the corner, grinning proudly when it landed in the trash.

"Nice," he said, nodding as if impressed with himself. "And with my left hand, no less. Maybe I should have tried for pro basketball."

He was being a dingus again. A post-sex dingus, but still, a dingus. And it was such a relief.

"Mmhmm," you hummed, watching him carefully as he found his discarded clothing on the ground and began getting dressed. You had no idea what would come after, what the dynamic of things would be. What were the rules here? The guys you'd been with in the past didn't stick around to help you get dressed. You just put on your clothes, left the guys to clean up their mess, and went home.

"So," you said, taking your time to gather your own clothes from the bottom of the cart, putting your underwear on first. "Now what?"

He gave you a small grin, buttoning his pants as you grabbed your bra. "Now..." he trailed off, as if in thought. You slipped your bra over your arms, reaching back to do the clasps as best you could with limited reach. Steve noticed you struggling, and stepped towards you. He reached a hand up, motioning for you to turn around so that he could help you.

You did as he instructed, turning so that he had easy access to the hooks. His fingers grazed along the skin on your back as he slowly clasped each of them together. Once he finished, his hands slid up to your shoulders and he turned you around to face him again. You smiled up at him as you continued to put on your bra, adjusting yourself slightly. He didn't pull back right away. He kept his hands on you, running his thumbs across the fabric on your shoulders, a content smile on his face as he stared at you.

"What is it?" you asked, noticing that he seemed to be stuck in his head. He didn't answer you right away. His smile widened and he leaned down, kissing you gently. It was so soft and slow, that you forgot what you had asked him to begin with. All you could think about was his mouth on yours, and his hands on your waist, and the smell of his cologne and sweat, and the way his hair was completely messed up. He pulled away after a moment and you blinked, dazed.

"Nothing," he answered after what seemed like forever. "Just... this."

"This?" you asked. You could feel your heart racing again. He was still smiling, and he kissed you once more before pulling away and reaching down to pick up his shirt.

"This. You and me," he said, as if the answer was obvious. He pulled his shirt over his head and cocked his head at you as you began to put your jeans on, not answering. "Unless you didn't... I mean, I kind of assumed... unless you just wanted to forget this happened? That's not really my thing, but I mean, it's okay, we could pretend if—"

"I like you." It just blurted out of you and he froze, looking surprised. You realized you were holding your breath. He blinked.

"Really?"

"Really. But I mean... I know you like to take girls out, so maybe this was just a—"

"You really don't know me that well, do you?" he laughed. Your heart was hammering.

"What do you mean?" you asked cautiously. You'd said too much. He was going to take it back now. You knew he would.

"I mean..." he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, but he didn't look like he wanted to back down. "I'm not just gonna... y'know, get with you at work and then bail on you. I like you, I like... being around you. A lot. I wanna keep doing it. Just in other places. Like outside of this shithole. And definitely without my uniform on. I mean, unless you're into that. I could probably bring my uniform home."

Your mind was going in about twenty directions at once, and it took you a second to process what he'd just said. He'd never... he liked being around you. And he wanted to take you out. You realized your mouth was open slightly and you closed it, biting your lip and feeling a wave of relief.

"You like me?" you repeated. "Not... you actually want to be around me?"

Steve stared at you for a second, a mix of disbelief and concern on his face, like you were the biggest idiot in the world for doubting him. Then his eyes narrowed, like he'd suddenly understood. He grabbed your waist again and pulled you back into him, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Are you telling me I'm so bad at flirting you didn't realize I've had a crush on you for the past four months? Are you kidding me?" He laughed a little at that. "You're actually insane. I thought it was so obvious..."

"I... what?" you stammered. "No! I had no idea."

"I mean," Steve started, pulling away slightly as he began to run through the list of times he'd been blatantly obvious in his interest for you, "I'm always trying to spend more time with you, asking you about yourself, finding stupid ways to make you smile or laugh or just... you know... pay attention to you... and like, the way I talk about you. Robin constantly call me out on it." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up a little more, which somehow only added to how endearing he looked.

"Well..." you mumbled, feeling your cheeks redden, "I just thought it was, y'know. Steve Harrington being Steve Harrington. Being a flirt."

Steve stared at you in silence for a moment, looking slightly disappointed that you were that clueless.

"Wait... do you really not know? About—" he looked up to the ceiling, and let out a short huff of air, before he looked back at you with his eyebrows raised. "The flirting, the winking, the talking about my parents not being home? Like... is it actually not obvious?"

Your face fell as you thought back on all the interactions the two of you had over the past few months, trying to pick up on clues. Had you really missed every hint that he had been dropping? You wanted to bury your head in your hands. You wanted the ground to swallow you up. But... he was still here. Still smiling. Still standing close and looking at you with the same interest that he'd had the whole night, since you had walked through the front door.

"You argue with me about everything, though," you said with a laugh, thinking of the many debates that the two of you had over what was a good movie, what was a bad one, which character in a movie was the hottest, if the latest rom com was really that good (spoiler: it wasn't), or even over the smallest, dumbest things that didn't even matter. "If I hadn't known you, I'd think that we just didn't like each other."

"That's just the chemistry," Steve shrugged, "You think I argue with all my coworkers about every little thing? Please." He chuckled as you blushed and shook your head, before he took another step closer to you, closing the distance between the two of you. "I like getting a rise out of you. You get so annoyed when you're trying to argue your point but can't think of the words. It's really cute."

You playfully nudged him with your elbow, before you finally put on the last of your clothes. Steve did the same, and when you looked down, you were both fully dressed. There was no trace that either of you had just fucked each other senseless a few moments ago. You glanced back up at him as he adjusted his vest.

"Lets go finish that deposit and then get the hell out of here."

You followed him back to the register, and he took the deposit bag and signed it, passing it to you. He waited patiently as you double checked to make sure that the deposit slip and the money matched. Once everything was correct, he gave a nod.

"Looks good. Ready to lock up?" he asked.

You nodded, and you both went to the breakroom to punch out. He opened the door for you, and you punched out on your time clock and gathered your things. You put your vest in your locker and closed it, turning around to see that Steve had already waited for you, patiently leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. You walked past him and out of the door, flipping the light switch as you walked out.

Whe you were outside the store, Steve locked the doors, then took the key and tossed it up and caught it. He turned and started walking backwards in the direction of the parking lot, as you headed to the bike rack to unlock your bike. Steve turned around, thinking you were right behind him and when he saw you at the bike rack, he spoke again.

"What are you doing? Are you riding that?"

"Um. Yes?" you raised an eyebrow, giving him a strange look as if to question what his problem was. "That's the plan. It's how I usually get home from work."

"It's freezing and it's late and I'm not letting you ride that back." He was being insistent. "No."

"Um. Yeah? It's really not that bad. I have a coat."

"Get in the car, leave your bike chained up. I have a morning shift tomorrow, I'll make sure it's there" he insisted, "Please? It's already past ten."

"Steve."

"C'mon. Just get in." he shrugged, his keys jingling in his hands. He wasn't going to budge and you were starting to get annoyed.

"It's really not—"

"Get in the damn car already." He rolled his eyes at you, clearly not buying the argument that you could get home by yourself and in one piece. It was dark outside, and a bit chilly, but that wasn't exactly uncommon for Hawkins. You sighed. You knew you wouldn't win this battle and it wasn't worth it to continue to argue.

"Fine. But just for the record, it's not that cold and I would have been fine. You know that."

"Mhm. Sure." Steve grinned, leading the way to the parking lot. When you got there, you stopped and glanced at all the empty cars and he frowned, before he gave a laugh of relief when he saw his BMW in the back corner. He unlocked the doors, you both climbed inside and he started the engine. He drove out of the parking lot, turning right onto the main street. You leaned your head on the window, your mind still spinning with the events of the last hour. Steve Harrington wanted you. You wanted Steve Harrington. This wasn't a one time thing, you could do this again. It was really happening.

As your eyes closed, you thought about the conversation you'd just had and something clicked. Steve's comment about him having a crush on you for months finally sank in. Your head whipped towards Steve in the driver's seat and you stared at him, as if you hadn't seen him in this light before. You couldn't help but stare. He was... perfect. He was absolutely, flawlessly beautiful and you just couldn't believe that someone like him could be so infatuated with someone like you. You leaned back in your seat, watching him carefully as he drove. You felt like you were going to burst, or pass out. You'd never been more attracted to someone before, but there was something else there. It felt more intense, more intense than it had felt before with anyone else. You felt your face turn a few shades of pink again as you thought of him.

The ride to your house wasn't a long one. Hawkins wasn't exactly known for being large, after all, and you didn't live too far from the store. Before you knew it, you were parked on the side of the road right in front of your driveway. You smiled at the sight of the familiar streetlight flickering every now and then. Home.

"Thanks," you mumbled quietly, as Steve put the car in park. "I... I mean... um, yeah, just... thanks." You fidgeted a little with the seatbelt strap and he nodded at you. He didn't move to take his hand off the wheel.

"Yeah... so," Steve gave a slight sigh as he leaned back, finally looking away from the windshield and meeting your eyes again. "Can we go back to talking about the whole you having no clue thing, because... I gotta be honest with you. I don't think I've ever been this embarrassed in my life. You thought I was just..."

You stared at him for a second, watching the way he spoke, watching how animated he was as he explained his side of the story, as if it had actually been some huge deal that you didn't notice him pining over you. The thought of it was... sweet, and it was such a contrast from what you thought you knew about him before. He really cared about how you felt.

"You know that I would never use you, right?" Steve continued. "Like I really like you. I think I made that pretty clear at the store, but like, if I made you uncomfortable or—"

You reached forward and took his hand in yours. You took it gently at first, testing to see his reaction, before he took your hand in return. He glanced down at where your fingers laced together, as his thumb moved over your skin.

"Steve," you interrupted softly, and his head tilted up to look back at you again. He had been rambling.

"Hm?" He asked, clearly unsure of how to react to what you just said. He watched as you brought his hand up to your mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his hand. When your gaze met his again, you smiled, feeling the warmth of your breath on his hand, your nose brushing against him.

"Take me out." It was a request, a gentle demand, as if he didn't know that you would follow him anywhere at this point.

He grinned at that. The idea was definitely appealing. You saw the wheels turning in his head, imagining all the places that you could go on a date. What movies you could see, which ones would be worth sitting through for two hours with you, and which ones wouldn't. You were certain he had the entire month mapped out already.

"Can I pick you up at five on Saturday? There's this drive in theatre down the next town over." Steve offered, his eyes lit up with excitement.

"Yeah, I'm off on Saturday."

"I know. I've been staring at that calendar in the breakroom all week. I know all the dates you have off." Steve explained, as you looked at him in awe, with your mouth hanging open in surprise. "What? I wasn't lying back there. I had been planning to ask you out."

He didn't seem ashamed to admit it either, as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, then brushed his fingers over your cheek, as if to check that you were really there. You leaned into the touch and he smiled, letting out a content sigh. He took your hand and pulled you towards him, pressing his lips to your temple.

"I should get inside, my parents are probably wondering why I'm home from work so late." You whispered, looking up at Steve, whose face fell. He pulled you a little closer to him, leaning his head down to meet you, as if he didn't want you to leave.

"Saturday." He said it more to remind himself than to remind you. "I'll pick you up here."

"I'll be ready. Promise." you grinned, and he nodded in confirmation. With that, he gave you one final kiss, pressing his lips gently to yours for what felt like an eternity, but ended up only being about three seconds, before letting you go. He sat back up, putting the car back into drive, as you reached for the door handle.

"Have a good night."

"Yeah. You too." Steve smiled as he put the car back in drive.

---

extra lil bonus scene for the platonic!Stobin lovers:

The next morning at Family Video, Steve leaned lazily against the counter, flipping through a stack of tapes with all the enthusiasm of a kid forced to do summer homework. Robin, meanwhile, was loading the last of the returns into a cart, muttering about how she always got the worst tasks.

“You could at least pretend to help,” Robin said, giving him a pointed look as she pushed the cart toward the back.

“I’m on very important rewinder duty,” Steve replied, smirking as he leaned back against the counter.

Robin rolled her eyes. “You’re on very important doing nothing duty.”

She disappeared into the aisles, her voice carrying back to him as she headed toward the adult section. “Why do I always get stuck with the beaded curtain of doom? I didn’t sign up to alphabetize Hawkins’ finest porn collection !”

“Because you’re the captain, and I’m just a humble first mate,” Steve called after her, grinning to himself.

A moment later, Robin’s horrified yell shattered the calm.

“STEVE!”

Steve’s heart leapt into his throat as he sprinted toward the back, shoving through the beads to find Robin standing stock-still, staring at the trash can with a look of utter disgust.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked, panting slightly.

Robin pointed at the trash can like it was radioactive. “There is a used condom in the trash can!”

Steve froze, his stomach dropping. “Uh…”

Robin turned to him, her expression a mix of shock and dawning realization. “Wait. Wait. Harrington. No. Tell me you didn’t—”

“I—it’s not what it looks like!” Steve stammered, raising his hands in defense. “I mean, technically, it is what it looks like, but it’s not like that!”

Robin’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God. Oh my God, you and—wait— you and her?! In the adult section?!”

“No! Well… yes. But it wasn’t—it was after close!” Steve groaned, running a hand through his hair, clearly panicking. “And it wasn’t planned ! It just… happened!”

Robin stared at him, blinking slowly. Then, she tilted her head. “So let me get this straight. You, Steve Harrington, had sex here, surrounded by titles like Butt Bandits 3 and Debbie Does Dallas? ”

Steve’s face turned bright red as he buried his face in his hands. “Please don’t say it like that.”

Robin then let out a bark of laughter. “Steve, do you have any idea how lucky you are that I found this and not Keith? Can you even imagine? He’d have a field day!”

Steve groaned again, his face still buried in his hands. “Please, don’t even joke about that.”

“I’m not joking!” Robin said, laughing harder now. “You’d never live it down. He’d probably give you some gross high-five and call you ‘stud’ every time he saw you.”

“God, please stop. I’m already dying of embarrassment.”

Robin folded her arms, a wicked grin on her face. “Oh, I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. Who even does this? At work, Steve? In the adult section? What, were you inspired by the ambiance?”

“It wasn’t planned!” Steve repeated, throwing his head back. “It just… happened!”

Robin smirked. “Oh, I’m sure it just happened. ”

“Robin,” Steve said, glaring at her. “Please. I’m begging you. Just pretend this didn’t happen.”

Robin pretended to consider it, then shrugged. “Fine. But you’re taking the trash out.”

“What? No way!”

“Oh, yes way,” she said, shoving the trash can toward him. “You made this mess. Literally. Now deal with it.”

Steve sighed dramatically, grabbing the trash can and stomping toward the back door as Robin’s laughter echoed behind him.

As he reached the exit, Robin called after him, her voice dripping with amusement. “Oh, and for the record? Since she clearly likes you back, maybe next time, take her somewhere that doesn’t smell like old popcorn and desperation!”

Steve froze mid-step, turning to glare at her. “Robin!”

She just grinned, wiggling her fingers in a wave. “Have fun with the trash, lover boy!”

Steve groaned loudly, stomping outside as Robin’s laughter rang through the store, the last thing he heard before the door slammed shut.

[watcherwingedcat]

And don't get me even started on syscourse. Oh my fucking god. Regardless of what you say or think, regardless of medical terms, regardless of diagnosis... Why would you attack creatures (or others, in general) who are sharing their experiences and invalidate it because “ummm actually they are harming me because they are invalidating my experiences...". No they are not?

I've been blocking every anti endo I see in this app. I don't care anymore. Before, I tended to lean into a more neutral side. But no more. Why are you treating endo systems like that. What did they do to you. Why are you treating them like they are comiting a horrible horrible crime just because they say that they are plural. Plurality is not always disordered. It's sometimes because of neurodivergenties, trauma, or maybe something else entirely. We don't know! There's not enough research yet on that matter. DID and being plural is different. DID is a complex disorder, with more symptoms than just the alters part. Also, most of the folks I see they are aggressively antiendos are minors. I'm sorry but why are you saying: ENDOS DON'T FUCKING INTERACT OR I'LL KILL YOU, YOU ARE HORRIBLE AND ERASING MY EXPERIENCE AND MY TRAUMA

Like... What? First of all, you are a child. (I'm not saying that being a child is synonymous with being ignorant or anything, or that minors can't voice their opinions) (I'm ALSO not saying that everyone who attacks endo systems are minors). Second of all, inform yourself a bit please? Endos aren't evil. They're just... different from traumagenic systems. They formed headmates for reasons other than trauma. That's it. That's the big fuss. If you don't like it, the block button is right there. But trying to spill hate and the same arguments over and over is damaging to others. Think of how your words may affect someone else.

I'm tired of seeing anti endo discurse everywhere. I'm tired of seeing ENDOS DNI. Like they are monsters. What did they ever did to you. Most of them are just trying to live their lives. (Also, traumagenic systems seem to think that endos are "stealing" their spaces. Which, no). They just happen to be plural. Some of them aren't even claiming to have DID! And even if they did, why would you care, as a fellow plural, that a stranger on the internet, is self diagnosing themselves? Why would you claim they are attacking you?

[323cutie]

licking your fingers like you're done. | jyh

pairing ୨୧ cowboy yunho x reader

word count ୨୧ 684

genre ୨୧ smut !! cowboy au, established relationship (maybe a little toxic but .. that's what makes it fun 😋)

warnings ୨୧ sexual content, swearing, kind of dubcon? but they get into it <3 smut warnings below the cut

author's note ୨୧ My laptop may be broken... I Will Find A Way. shoutout to joel miller being my inspo behind this i loveeee a good older southern cowboy

18+ only mdni!!!!

smut warnings ୨୧ no penetrative sex sawrry, dom!yunho x brat! reader, he's a little mean but in a sexy way, dirty talk, spanking, dry humping (briefly), fondling, a Single use of daddy (i really had no choice!!!!), not even really fingering but i'll tag it just in case

Yunho smoothes a hand up your back to press your chest to the passenger seat and it takes everything in you not to shiver.

"That’s it, baby," he mumbles when you arch. If you had any shame left you might feel embarrassed about the fact that your ass is almost hanging out the truck door, but now it only serves to turn you on more. Bent over the center console, you hum and wiggle.

"Gonna fuck me or just stare?" you ask. It’s on theme for today, and Yunho knows it too; so he just shrugs when you look back at him.

"I'll do what I want with ya," he responds, short and simple, the drawl of his accent sinking into your bones.

You’d be so angry if you weren't already dripping for him. Admittedly, it wasn't very smart of you to walk out during your argument earlier, but you weren't trying to be smart. Before you could even get to the gate at the end of the road, Yunho's headlights were lighting you up, yelling out the window at you to get in the damn truck.

(You told him to make you. He did.)

"Don’t think you deserve my dick, honey," he says after a moment, hands splaying across your ass as he takes a good, long look at you. "Been a brat today. Think maybe y'should ask me nicely."

You scoff, suppressing the wave of heat that covers your body. "I think you should go to hell."

Yunho doesn't bat an eye. "Mm, that's what i'm talkin' 'bout, baby," he murmurs, almost sympathetically. Before you can even register the loss of contact, he spanks you with enough force to shove you further into the center console. You gasp and yelp and he rubs your ass soothingly, a meaningless apology. "That's alright, I can teach you some manners. How many of these you think you can take 'fore you're beggin' the way I asked?"

You don't get a chance to answer -- whether it be genuine or another bratty comeback -- before Yunho slaps your other cheek. This time you can't help the way your gasp tapers off into a moan, and he notices. Smug the way he always is when he gets you where he wants to, he leans over your back, lips meeting the shell of your ear. "Don’t tell me you're done already, sweetheart. I was just gettin' started."

You sigh, feel yourself leak, press back against Yunho's belt buckle to feel the warm bulge beneath it. "N-never," you grit back.

The beauty is that both of you know how this ends. You aren't leaving this truck until you're painted by the lasting impressions of him, pretty bruises and tender skin. And the pleasure is finding out just how he'll make a mess of you.

He lands four more consecutive spanks, each one making it harder to hold back your noises. You let out a whimper when he drags the tips of his fingers along your skin, a feather-light touch reducing you to shivers.

Despite the soreness, you arch back into him. One of his hands comes around you to hold at your bare stomach, pulling you even closer to him. He's just as much bite as he is bark, but you know he can never deny you for too long. "Fuck, baby," he breathes out, resting his forehead on the back of your shoulder as he flexes his hips forward just enough for you to get a shred of friction. It makes you moan and he hisses. "Soakin’ me over here. You want it that bad?"

"Yes," you say. It feels like it's coming from your chest. "Want it so bad, daddy, please. I'll be good. Promise."

Yunho hums, separates himself from your back and drags his hands along his body until he finally, finally touches you, pressing his fingers through your slit. His pointer finger bumps your clit and you whine, pressing your face into the seat.

"Coulda just said that to begin with," he says, then you hear the clink of his belt. "'S alright. I'll take good care of you, honey."

[pyonpurin]

College Drummer Bakugo Katsuki

THIS IS A WEIRD BRAIN VOMIT PLEASEEEEE ☆⌒(ゝ。∂)

don't expect tew much or i'm gonna cry

drummer katsuki x fashion designer reader

genre fluff

omfg idfc it's a brain vomit FFS

none hero au, just plain plain 'ol college students! katsuki is 21 on his 3rd year of college and reader is a year older fresh graduate, back in the country and is trying to make an independent clothing line!

──────────────────────────────

Weird prompt that i'll never write so is it really a prompt? anyways, i still need to get it out of my head!

⚠ SUPER DUPER many typos and please do excuse my english it's not my first language lololol ⚠

Okay so, college drummer Bakugo with his band mates (BakuSquad is what we would call duh) always practice at Jiro's garage (let's just imagine that Kyoka's parents are rich as hell because they're like some famous singers or in a band thus why she has her own house even tho she's just a college student yeayeayea!) one day Jiro's old childhood friend (reader) just came back from college somewhere out of the country and crashed at Jiro's place.

Bakugo left his motorcycle keys on the garage couch without noticing until he sat on his motorcycle and (reader) went to him and gave him his keys, introduced herself because they haven't properly introduced each other, told him reader just graduate that's why she's suddenly back in japan blablabla all that jazz, asked each other what they major in and reader proudly tell him that she studied fashion, Katsuki basically said that's dumb (i feel like he would never but this is for the sake of the plot kay) and then reader explain how important fashion is starting from influential campaigns, controversial runways, and how political fashion is and oh suddenly he's hooked by your smartass, i mean he thinks you're pretty of course but he thought you're just some fashion bimbo or something till you pulled up an Elle Woods on him.

Anyways.. reader asked back what he majors in and he majors in music idk what you guys call it i have to search it up, and reader was like oh! duh! he's in a band that makes so much sense! anyways reader gave him her business card, made it herself, colorful and many many cute doodles, the way she smiles, laugh, the way she brings herself up as this cheerful girliepop is so so fun.

Kay he went home wondering about shit, it's not like he never had a girlfriend or anything but this felt different, she was fun to talk to, easy, like it's so natural, but whatever right? he went to sleep, and the next day he goes to class and stuff, and on his way back he's thinking of crashing at Jiro's place to practice his set, texted her that he's coming, he has her keys and stuff (they're that close i suppose!) and just immediately get in, open Jiro's door to see you and Jiro arguing about some sketches reader made of Jiro's outfit that reader volunteered to make for her upcoming performance, Jiro wanted sequins but oh my god the fabric itself will already be sparkly, what? she wants to be a disco ball up there? (it was an all fun and giggle argument tho! and i do believe while Jiro's outfit is kinda plain on the series, i'm a fancy kyoka truther!) and so Bakugo chimes in, and once they agree on something reader rushed and gather her sketches, take her bag, and said she wants to immediately buy the fabrics and stuff! and Bakugo who just arrived weirdly volunteered to take her saying he has to run some errands!

"Thought you were gonna practice your set-"

"Shut it ears. C'mon fashion freak, i don't got all day."

You gave Jiro a look that says "Um what the fuck?!" but oh you be grinning ear to ear, and she gave you a "Tell me how it goes!" look, i mean? riding a hot drummer's motorcycle? SIGN ME UP! aaaaaaaaand that's about it i'm fried lol!

waaaaaaaaaaaait this is so fun to vomit out omgomgogmgmgoggm

songs and shit that inspired this :

Elle Woods (my fav girl), my dream major (fashion), the school festival obvii, Tongue Tied by GROUPLOVE, Lovers by Anna Of The North, EARLY DEBUT TWICE SONGS!, She by TYLER THE FREAKING CREATOR, Still Into You by my goat Paramore, Confident by Justin Bieber, yeaaaaaaaa that's about it i guess! when i wrote this i kinda got reminded of this webtoon called to you who swallowed a star (must read!)

ty for reading this was so fun to write!

[lonieene]

TW: ANGST

It was a tiring day, a witch was terrifying a random town Sam and Dean managed to kill her after 4 days of intense research

Castiel and Crowley were in the bunker waiting for the brothers for "group therapy session" which is basically just giving the status of the current situation of all 4 so they don't cause another disaster that could cause the end of the world (again)

But then instead of just walking to the center room they heard a heated argument between Dean and Sam and went over to see what the fight was about

Dean was saying something about how hard it is to feel like you're in the background and how hard it is to be "disposable" or something, Sam didn't seem to be paying much attention until Dean said "Well, you wouldn't understand, you're everyone's favorite" right after saying this, the older Winchester looked at the younger one and instantly fell silent. Sam looked at him with a disgust that not even Crowley had seen in his eyes yet

"Seriously Dean?"

The silence was deafening

"Well... if the hat fits"

Silence again, until Sam started laughing, not a happy laugh, but a laugh of pain

"You've got to be FUCKING with me, right Dean? You really think I'm someone's favorite? Oh pleeeeease"

Dean's eyes widen a litte

"Damn man EVERYONE CHOOSES YOU OVER ME"

Dean, Cas and Crowley all raised an eyebrow at the same time

"Oh so now you'r going to pretend you don't notice? mom has only wanted to know about you since you got back, all our "friends" were looking for you before they even remembered me, Cas and you have a "deeper bond" and FUCK even CROWLEY prefers you"

Dean genuinely looked surprised, Crowley and Cas looked at each other trying to think if the statement was true

"I mean haha, this whole bromance thing of yours wasn't enough for you!? he CHOSE you to be with him, he enjoyed being with YOU, even though I was the one who gave him human blood for the first time!

Eeven though I was the one who try to to help Cas when he's down Cas still chooses YOU, even if I'm the one trying to be kind and understanding Mom still chooses YOU, even if i'm the best I can EVERYONE PREFERS YOU!"

A painful relationship falls upon everyone in the room, maybe... Sam is right...

"And you know what? this whole unloved person syndrome is starting to get on my nerves, because, guess what? I AM THE UNLOVED PERSON, the only person besides you that I know would choose me IS THE FUCKING DEVIL, so shut the fuck up when you talk about being second choice, BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT, I AM"

With that, Sam leaves, slamming the door very hard, leaving a perplexed and genuinely guilty Cas, Crowley and Dean behind

[sunnysam-my]

Okay, I'm back from my superfandom hiatus and have a big one for Sam that I never forgiven the writers for. So, Dean had a daughter… and Sam murdered her because… pure pettiness?

Emma was a biological child of Dean who appeared in S07E13. She was an Amazonian which meant she grew up to a teen in two days since birth. At the biological age of 16 she started growing normally. The Amazonians forced their babies to kill their fathers, but when Emma comes to Dean she explains she doesn't want to be a monster, in reality she is trying to bring his guard down but fails and Dean pulls out a gun. They talk about how they don't actually want to kill their family and Dean tries (quite successful) to convince her to ran away and live a normal life. This is when Sam comes in and despite explaining and protest just kill her with no mercy.

Why? Was it because she was still trying to attack them? Nope. Because he was angry Dean killed Sam's monster ex/friend who had murdered multiple people and would kill again in a heartbeat if her child asked for it (he did however spear the child who did nothing wrong). That is not me reading into it, that's literally the cannon explanation explicitly said in the episode. And you know what happens at the end? Sam is the one that's pissed and fucking Dean has to comfort and cheer him up! Dean who just had his bio child killed in front of him by Sam, meanwhile Sam literally is telling Dean that wasn't his child. In the end it's treated like Dean is in the wrong for mourning his own child and being upset with Sam because Sam keeps making exceptions on what monsters are allowed to live and Dean can't even talk to his own child? Yeah, hate that bullshit.

I think this really highlighted the worst of him. He's petty, he's self righteous, acts like he can do no wrong and expects everyone to agree, he acts like he's the only exception.

And that's just one of my biggest things against him. I absolutely hate how Sam not only constantly disregards Dean's trauma, especially from going to literal hell, he also mocks it. Like, a lot. He is really emotionally and verbally abusive IMO and this post sums it up pretty well.

Ending of S04E21 is enough already on its own to make me hate him. Because Sam has some weird savour complex he despise Dean for being chosen by Angels to save the world. I get the trauma of having demon blood and all that jazz, but he literally says he thinks Dean doesn't deserve and can't possibly save the world. Sam constantly acts like he knows better and is better than everyone while completely ignoring all criticisms, logical arguments and concerns from people around him. He gets pissed and hits Dean when he says Sam is turning himself into a monster because he doesn't trust Dean can stop Lilith (while also whining about Dean not trusting him), which was, you know, literally what was happening, Sam was turning into a demon. You know, you would hope he would get better, apologize and stop acting like this, but nope. This is never truly unpacked. Oh, and the cherry on was Sam being like "You don't know me, you never did" to the person who raised him and gave away his childhood and comfort to raise his brother who just beat him to a pulp. Person who knew exactly how to find said brother despite him being excellent at hiding. Again, this behaviour never really changed or was properly addressed.

I hate how many fans defend his behaviour with "Oh, well, he was under the influence of demon blood so it's basically like drug addiction and that means it doesn't make him a bad person!" WRONG! I don't give a fuck what you are addicted to, if you abuse me you are abusing me, period. Just because you were drunk when you fatally run over someone with your car doesn't change the fact that you killed them, which makes you a killer. Substance abuse and trauma are not valid excuses for abuse. How is that not common sense? Come on.

And there's just so so so much more. I just can't handle him anymore. I hate him so much with each new rewatch.

I know that this is technically still him sucking in relation to Dean but if he did this bs to anyone I would still hate him the same.

is there any people who hate dean or sam that can tell me why without comparing the two. like every anti-dean (or sam) post is like

“dEan hAs dOnE _____ And sAm WouLd nEvEr dO tHaT”

like let’s see some real hate!! tell me you hate dean or sam because they suck even out of relation to other each other!!!!

[kyouka-supremacy]

hey i saw ur chuuaku post and im wondering if maybe u could make a few hcs for them..😖

Right now I can hardly come up with anything I haven't said already (peoples it's time for YOU to send ME chuuaku ideas please I'm starving), but I'm redirecting you to my old chuuaku headcanons post, headcanons on how their relationship would play out according to me, and general chuuaku rant. Some other stuff:

It started out as very casual (“I'm just fooling around with the guy at work who shares my same dependency to a third guy”), but when it started being more than that, it's Chuuya who pushes for it to become a serious thing. He's the emotionally intelligent one and the first to understand they've actually developed strong feelings for each other way before Akutagawa realizes. On the other end Akutagawa is very reticent at first, and is scared to get emotionally attached and especially bound to someone else after the mess that was his relationship with Dazai.

But once it got serious, they're trying. They're trying to be in a normal relationship and do classic date things. They both care a lot and they really don't want to fuck this up.

I really want to explore the kind of miscommunication that doesn't happen with ss/kk and s/kk. Akutagawa and Chuuya don't get each other, but it's not a bad thing: the way they keep trying to work around the struggle of understanding each other despite it being so difficult only shows how much they care about their relationship.

Dazai keeps being the reason of 95% of their arguments tho. Especially due to Chuuya insulting him, and Akutagawa disagreeing with him. That time someone said “chuuaku is a throuple in which the ghost of dazai osamu exists between them at all times”; I fully stand by that.

The remaining 5% of arguments is Chuuya getting mad at how little Akutagawa takes care of himself– and Akutagawa being very pissed, by the way, because he decides what he does with himself. Again, Akutagawa becoming very wary of anyone commanding him after Dazai left, a little because in truth he's always been very independent, very anarchist, but more so now because he really doesn't want to get stuck in another relationship where he depends on someone else. It's a subconscious, instinctive response though, because you know Akutagawa has zero self-awareness and doesn't speak of someone who does a lot of introspection. Taking that in, Dazai makes for the reason of 100% of their arguments (don't tell him, he'd have the time of his life knowing that).

I really care about Akutagawa slowly moving to Chuuya's place, it's very dear to me... Chuuya's empty space being slowly filled by another person... Building mundanity together, the feeling of finally creating a domestic life with someone else after your life has never been anything but uncertainty and anomaly... Chuuya opening his kitchen cabinet one morning and finding Akutagawa's sophisticated tea in it (without Akutagawa having told Chuuya) and cracking the biggest smile of his life, feeling the happiest man on earth, running to squeeze and kiss a very grumpy and confused Akutagawa who was yet to wake up.

Also very funny because despite both being mafiosi, they have very different work ethics that make their schedules clash. I feel like Akutagawa's is more of an on-call job where he occasionally gets assigned missions, whereas Chuuya, as executive, ends up doing a lot of office job which is completely alien to Akutagawa. Cue to Akutagawa being childishly confused like “We are the darkness of this city, what do you mean you have to wake up at 7.”

Workplace aesthetic. Akutagawa lounging at the pm hq for no reason in particular. Akutagawa spending a lot of time at Chuuya's office just waiting for him to finish his paperwork, often sleeping curled up on his sofa (company dog... ). Arriving together at briefings. Hands brushing under the meeting table.

I'm so sure Chuuya finds Akutagawa absolutely hilarious and genuinely loves spending time with him. That's how they started seeing each other to begin with. Chuuya is complaining about his underlings not meeting deadlines, and Akutagawa dead-serious advises him to “Cut off one of their ears, then threaten to cut the other one if they don't do what they're due before dawn. If they don't yield, proceed with the other limbs”. There's a bit, then Chuuya crushes laughing like that was the most hilarious joke he's heard his whole life. “I should really do that, shouldn't I?”. Akutagawa intimately thinks Chuuya is too good to be a mafioso, but shrugs it off as them two simply solving different roles within the pm.

On his side, Akutagawa is totally high on the feeling of someone looking like they genuinely enjoy his presence, and aren't scared of him (it's a first).

Chuuya taught Akutagawa how to drive. Akutagawa drives like a madman but if you asked Chuuya he genuinely believes he's good at it, because he loves the rush and he loves the thrill.

[slavicafire]

it's all just so rotten. it's just so rotten because people just... don't believe that I can be affected by this. because they believe with her I was already ready for this scenario anyway so it shouldn't be such a shock or such a pain, and because I've been through death and I know grief so well so for sure I just know how to handle this and should be expected to get over it stat. even people who are supportive I can fucking see it in their eyes "yeah, yeah, that sucks". sucks doesn't fucking cover it. she's dead you assholes. it doesn't just "suck" it's not just "tough" gods I will lose my mind

[trans-yllz]

when you tell your sister you think you might have autism (something you have said in those words to only one other person ever) and then she goes on a hour long rant about how she hates people who self diagnose. okay.

[losingdcgs]

"That's a pretty hefty promise." He arched a brow, trying to decide if the other was one of those obnoxious employees that always went over the top with everything in hopes that they'd be employee of the month for the millionth time in a row or if they were just really passionate about books. Unable to come to a solid conclusion, he continued speaking, "I'm going to be honest with you, I don't even remember what the last book I read was. Probably something for school?" It wasn't like he hadn't tried to read in the time between then and now. It was just that he would start a book, get antsy, completely forget about it, and then have to start all over again and repeat to the point it didn't feel worth it. "But I like horror in general so that's a good place to start." It was an odd sort of comfort genre for him. As a kid, if he wasn't listening to music, he was either watching reruns of Goosebumps or whatever horror movies were playing on tv to drown out whatever pointless argument his parents were having — a fairly common occurrence.

In hindsight it would've been more helpful to mention where exactly the smudge on their face was. But also, why were they apologizing? Axel shook his head, less and less sure of what to make of the person in front of him, "You missed it, but it's not a huge deal. I wasn't planning on tracking down your manager to complain about a smudge on your forehead. Honestly, you could've told me to fuck off and find a book myself so you could keep doing whatever it was you were doing and I wouldn't have given a shit." At most he would've fired back a snappy comment himself, but that wasn't the point. The point he was trying to get across was that he couldn't care less how professional or unprofessional the other was. It wasn't like he had any intention of coming back here regularly.

on   the   outside,   jasper   wouldn’t   have   blamed   anyone   for   assuming   they   wouldn’t   know   anything.   he   was   clumsy,   his   eyes   darted   around   as   though   he   was   keeping   a   secret,   and   it   seemed   as   though   jasper   was   some   sort   of   wind-up   toy   car   —   often   he   was   scampering   through   the   aisles,   grabbing   titles   and   running   from   from   the   stockroom   to   the   till   and   back   again   like   it   was   their   own   bespoke   olympic   event.   “i   can   help   you   with   that.   i   promise,   there’s   something   in   here   for   everyone.   are   there   any   books   you’ve   read   before   that   you   like ?   horror,   fantasy ? ”   their   gaze   was   a   mix   of   soft   green   and   mossy   brown   with   a   generous   helping   of   enthusiasm.   it   was   something   difficult   to   spot,   or   at   least   it   was   difficult   to   come   across   authentically   —   jasper   didn’t   know   the   first   thing   about   being   inauthentic.   in   that   moment,   all   they   wanted   was   to   help   the   stranger   leave   the   book   nook   with   a   new   novel   tucked   beneath   his   arm.   “my   fa — ?   oh.”   clumsily   they   rubbed   at   the   wrong   cheek,   “that’s   unprofessional.   i’m   sorry.   i   haven’t   had   a   single   moment   to   breathe   today.   i   can’t   complain   —   it’s   how   i   like   it.”   it   made   jasper   feel   as   though   they   were   worth   something.   everyone   needed   books,   and   if   the   written   world   could   fill   their   life   with   as   much   colour   as   it   did   he   felt   it   was   his   responsibility   to   share   the   joy   with   others.   a   love   language   of   sorts.   “i'm   rambling.   books.   you   wanted   books.”

[liriostigre]

💌