#he just refuses to admit that his refusal to get the gas back on is causing me damage

[itsnesss]

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 | max verstappen

dad!max who becomes the ultimate bodyguard:

From the moment he finds out, Max transforms into your personal protector. He won’t let you carry anything heavy, not even the grocery bags, and if anyone looks at you funny, he shoots them a glare that could stop a car at 300 km/h.

dad!max who studies everything about pregnancy:

Even though he says he's not much of a reader, Max devours books and articles on pregnancy. He becomes a mini-expert on what you can and can’t eat, the best sleeping positions, how to massage your back, and how to soothe the baby with his voice.

dad!max who constantly kisses and talks to the baby (and you):

Every night, he hugs you from behind, places his hand on your belly, and talks to the baby. Sometimes in English, sometimes in Dutch, and he even tells the baby about races and what it’ll be like when they visit Monaco for the first time.

dad!max who takes “cravings” as a mission:

If you crave strawberries at 2 a.m., Max is out the door before you even finish the sentence. If there’s none at home, he’ll search the farthest gas station. No matter how busy his race week is, he makes sure your cravings are taken care of.

dad!max who makes sure you’re pampered at the races:

If you decide to join him at the paddock, he ensures there’s shade, a portable fan, snacks, water, and a comfy place for you to rest. If anyone dares to ask why you're there when you’re pregnant, Max gives them a “she can be wherever she wants, end of story” look.

dad!max who turns baby names into a full debate:

Max suggests names inspired by famous drivers or cars. You firmly tell him that no way the baby is going to be called Ayrton or Niki. Eventually, you both make a list and he ends up choosing the one you like the most, even though he’ll always say it was his idea first.

dad!max who’s excited but nervous at the same time:

Sometimes you catch him in a quiet moment, just absorbing everything. He finds it hard to put his feelings into words, but when he does, he tells you, “I don’t know if I’ll be the best dad, but I promise I’ll give it everything I’ve got—just like I do on the track.”

dad!max who has a secret picture in his helmet:

Max keeps a photo of you with the ultrasound inside his racing helmet. He doesn’t tell anyone, but before each race, he looks at it and smiles because he knows he’s racing not just for himself, but for both of you now.

dad!max who becomes the king of baby shopping (even if he doesn’t admit it):

At first, he says he doesn’t want to go overboard with unnecessary stuff, but then he gets way too excited. He starts picking out the latest stroller models, a car seat that’s safer than a Red Bull car, and even compares baby bottles like they’re racing parts.

dad!max who becomes the architect of the baby’s room:

He insists on building everything himself: the crib, the changing table, the décor. And even though some parts don’t fit or he gets frustrated, he refuses help. In the end, he makes it perfect, with a small Dutch lion plush in the corner.

dad!max who gets a little jealous... of the ultrasound:

When you first get an ultrasound and the doctor puts the gel on your belly, Max stares at it like, “Okay, stay calm… it’s a doctor… professional... breathe…” Later, when you're at home, he laughs at himself but hugs you even tighter.

dad!max who fights the media for you:

If any journalist dares to ask intrusive questions about your pregnancy, his “don’t go there” look says it all. And if someone on social media comments something rude… Max blocks them without a second thought. His family is his number one priority now.

dad!max who goes into full nesting mode:

Before the baby arrives, Max enters full-on “extreme preparation” mode. He checks the bags, the stroller, the routes to the hospital, and even makes a list of things you might forget just in case. He takes this role as seriously as a pit stop: quick, efficient, and on point.

dad!max who shares stories of you and the baby on social media:

His Instagram, once filled with race cars and podiums, now features pictures of you, selfies with your belly, and captions like: “Counting down the days.” Even though he’s not one to overshare, something about you makes him want to let the world know.

dad!max who whispers to you in the middle of the night:

When you can’t sleep (thanks to the baby kicking or the heat), he gently massages your back, sings to you softly in Dutch, and reassures you that everything will be fine, that he’s there, and that he loves you more than ever.

dad!max who cries at the baby’s first cry:

When the baby is born and he hears their first cry, Max breaks down. Tears well up in his eyes, he looks at you, kisses your forehead, and whispers, “You were incredible.” And for the first time, Max Verstappen feels like he’s won something far bigger than a championship.

[wvyik]

quit pouting, winchester’ d.w. ꩜ .ᐟ

dean winchester x fem! reader

ᰔ summary: dean gets all jealous over something super dumb (he’d never admit it though), and ends up pouting until you kiss him to make him stop being so ridiculous.

⤿ warnings: a hint of possessiveness, jealousy with unreasonable doubts, (duh) make out sesh, but other than that — just pure fluff, because this man is soft for you no matter how much he tries to act tough. don’t kiss and drive kids!!

⤿ notes: this is my first fic ever!! send some love. thanks so much for reading through my yap sesh. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

Dean Winchester is pouting.

And, yeah, he’d probably rather die than admit it, but it’s so obvious it’s almost embarrassing. Arms crossed, jaw tight, barely sparing you a glance as he sulks in the driver’s seat of the Impala. You’d think you just crashed Baby into a brick wall with how pissed he looks.

“De.. what is wrong with you?” you finally ask, leaning against the window to look at him.

“Nothin’,” he mutters, gripping the steering wheel like it personally offended him. Nothing, my ass.

You narrow your eyes. “Dean.”

“Nothin’, i already told you.” he repeats, this time with even less conviction.

You huff, shifting in your seat so you’re fully facing him now. “Oh my God, you are such a bad liar.”

He scoffs. “I’m a great liar, trust me.”

“Not to me.”

And, that shuts him up for a second. His fingers tighten on the wheel, his mouth pressing into that stubborn, self-righteous little frown he gets whenever he knows he’s losing but refuses to admit it.

You smirk, slowly realizing what could be the cause of his state. “Oh my God, you’re jealous.”

Dean’s head snaps toward you so fast you think he might give himself whiplash. “What?”

You lean in, grinning now. “You totally are.” you say with a soft chuckle, as if the thought of him being jealous is the most hilarious thing in the whole world.

He rolls his eyes, trying so hard to play it cool, but his ears are so red. “Pfft. Yeah, right.”

“You so are.”

Dean exhales sharply, turning his attention back to the road like the empty highway is the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out how to dig himself out of this one.

“You’re acting all weird,” you point out, watching him squirm. “You’ve been quiet for the last hour. You barely even yelled at that dude who cut you off.”

Dean clenches his jaw. He knows you’ve got him.

“So,” you press, “what’s got your panties in a twist, huh?” As if you already don’t know.

He grumbles something under his breath. Oh, he’s embarrassed. You could tell.

You blink. “What?”

More grumbling.

“Dean.” you repeated, hoping for him to finally speak up.

He exhales roughly, hands flexing on the steering wheel. Then, finally, he mutters, “Nothin’. Just— dude was flirting with you, ‘s all.”

You blink. Then blink again. “Are you talking about the gas station cashier?” Dean says nothing. Which is an answer in itself. Oh, this is too good.

You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, Dean, he barely said two words to me.”

“Yeah? And he was lookin’ at you like a damn puppy,” Dean grumbles. “Like he had a shot.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “That is so stupid.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, jaw still tight. “‘S stupid to you.”

And okay, yeah, now you kind of feel bad, because he’s being ridiculous, but also kind of… sad about it? Not that he’d ever admit it, but the way he’s gripping the wheel, the way his lips are pressed tight like he’s trying to keep everything in—he actually cares about this. About you.

Which means he deserves to suffer just a little longer.

You scoot closer, pressing your chin to his shoulder. “You know you’re the only one I want, right?”

Dean stays silent, but you feel the way his grip on the wheel loosens. His jaw twitches when you press a slow, lingering kiss to his cheek. You smirk. Oh, he’s melting.

So, you push further, brushing your lips along the sharp edge of his jaw, taking your sweet time. You can feel the tension in him shift— not gone, but different. Like he’s holding his breath, waiting for what you’ll do next.

He clears his throat, but his voice comes out rough. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

You hum, letting your lips trail just a little lower. “Then quit pouting.”

“I ain’t—”

You shut him up with a proper kiss.

And at first, he barely moves—like he wasn’t expecting it, like it takes him a second to catch up. But the second he does, oh, you’ve got him.

Dean exhales through his nose, tilting his head to meet you fully, and then he’s kissing you like he’s making up for lost time. His hand finally lets go of the steering wheel, landing firm and warm against your thigh, fingers flexing like he’s grounding himself.

You don’t hesitate to deepen it, shifting in your seat to turn toward him, your hand moving up to cup his jaw. He’s warm, rough with stubble, and you take your time exploring it, feeling the way his breath stutters when you scrape your nails lightly along the edge.

Dean groans— low, quiet, but wrecked— and then he’s pulling you closer, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck. The Impala swerves slightly.

You pull back just enough to whisper, breathless, “Dean, focus.”

“Tryin’,” he mutters, voice low and strained. “You’re makin’ it real hard, sweetheart.”

You grin, fingers tangling in the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Ain’t that the point?..”

Dean exhales sharply, like he’s trying so hard to keep his cool, but he’s losing. And you? You’re having the time of your life watching him come undone.

You lean in again, kissing him slow and deep, dragging it out just to make him suffer. He sighs into it, fingers pressing just a little tighter into your skin, like he doesn’t want to let go.

Eventually— reluctantly— you pull back, just enough to look at him. His pupils are almost brown in this lightning, lips pink and kiss-swollen, chest rising and falling a little faster than before.

You smirk. “Told you you were pouting.”

Dean exhales, shaking his head with a grumble—but the way he looks at you? The way his thumb traces absently against your knee, like he’s memorizing the shape of you?

Yeah. You definitely won this one.

⤿ wanna be tagged in my fics?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading! more works incoming @ library. ⊹₊⟡⋆

[trusweethrt]

LATE NIGHT DRIVES

PAIRING: BSF!RAFE X SWEETHEART!FEM!READER

summary: Rafe cherished these drives with you. Where you both would blare your wildly different music, talk about anything that came to mind, and stop at random convenience stores for snacks. It was the only time where he felt genuinely relaxed and content.

a/n: okayy new setup? 🫣 I dunno, I'm trying it out but I likee. very professional, very cutesy. Anyway, this is my first well thought out writing so please do leave constructive criticism if you think I could do something different next time...

word count: 0.6k

The route to your house was second nature by now. He's been there so much that he almost knows it better than his own home. which he doesn't mind at all, cause your house was basically his second home.

As you lie in your bed, your phone buzzes with an "I'm outside" text from Rafe. So per routine, you get up, throwing on the first hoodie in reach and heading out of the door.

He blows out out a breath, letting out a low "Its about fucking time" as you get in his truck.

"yeah yeah, it wasn't that long. you're just impatient"

he pulls out of your driveway, scoffing slightly "I must have plenty of patience, I deal with you, don't I? and put your seat belt on."

Once your seat belt is fastened, he begins driving on the road, having no destination in mind like usual. For a while, it's just silence between you two. Which isn't uncommon for both of you, it's familiar and more comforting than he'd like to admit.

"Lets stop at a gas station for snacks" you request, looking out the window

He nods, a murmured "sure" leaving his lips as he drives in the direction of the nearest gas station.

Entering the gas station, you immediately make your way toward the section with candy, picking out packages of a variety of candies while he heads towards the chips.

Once you both have gathered a good amount of snacks for each of you, which you both are gonna end up sharing anyway, you set them down on the counter as the cashier to rings up all of the items that he ends up paying for like usual since he'll throw a fit if he doesn't.

When you both make it into the car, he drives to the usual spot you both spend nights at. An empty parking lot. "Oh my gosh, turn it up!" you motion to the radio, smiling widely.

He groans as he turns up the radio "What the hell is this? Taylor Swift?"

"Sabrina Carpenter" you correct "And it's good, just listen."

"Yeah, I'd rather not" he replies as he takes a few gummy bears from the bag in your lap. He always claims to hate your music taste but you always find him humming a beat to one of the songs you pick out during a drive.

He leans back into his seat, chewing slowly as he listens to the lyrics. "You listen to some dirty music" he chuckles

"Hey, she's not that bad. You should see her on tour though, you'll have a stroke."

he raises his eyebrow, an amused expression on his face "really, huh? what, are you gonna go?"

you hum, shaking your head "No. I want to, though. But her tickets are kinda pricey. Maybe if I have extra money to spend soon."

"I'll take you."

The Skittles you were eating nearly get stuck in your throat as you look at him in bewilderment "What?! No! Rafe, that's too much money."

he shrugs "It's fine. I wanna do it. Just let me? Please?" of course he wouldn't bat an eye at spending that much money, he was loaded.

you hesitate for a moment, but seeing the insistence in his eyes, you eventually nod slightly "Fine. You can take me. But I'm paying you back eventually, alright?"

"Mm okay, sure. Deal." he agrees, even though he knows when it comes time for you to pay him back, he'll either give the money right back to you or refuse it.

"Thank you, Rafe. I appreciate it." you smile, genuinely touched by his willingness to spend that much money on you. It was rare that he went out of his way to please someone.

"Mhm, of course" he smiles back before throwing a gummy bear your way "consider it a late birthday gift."

"my birthday was like nine months ago, but okay."

"Mm yeah, just go with it" he chuckles, reaching over and talking your hand.

That was definitely new...

[zombie-projects]

My dad: There's no way taking cold showers is giving you chillblains. That's not how this works.

Also my dad: Is tenosynovitis related to your chillblains?

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington X F! reader, friends to lovers, flashing (f) WC: 762 Summary: Steve's amazed by the number of things you can fit in your bra when you refuse to lug around a bag with you.

In the last two hours you'd pulled out a wad of fives to pay for the snacks you'd both picked up at the gas station, then a lighter as the two of you sat out on the hood of Steve's car, overlooking Lovers Lake while you had a smoke and last, a pack of minty gum for you to chew and smack on when you got back in the car.

What fascinated Steve was that none of these items had been stored inside a bag like one might expect, all of them pulled out of your bra like it was an entirely normal thing to do. Unable to ignore it any longer and more than a little flustered, he finally breaks his silence on the matter.

"Okay, I have to know. What else do you have in there?", Steve carefully gestures vaguely in the direction of your breasts, looking all kinds of exasperated. You return his look with an amused smirk.

"I'll give you two guesses", you puff your chest out, the answer so obvious it makes him roll his eyes.

"Not them- uh, those. I mean, c'mon. Doesn't it ever get, I don't know...uncomfortable having to wedge it all in there?", he asks trying and failing to choose his words carefully while his eyes flicked back and forth between your face and your cleavage.

You see your chance and pounce at it, especially since he'd set you up for it so perfectly.

"I don't mind a tight fit, Steve", you chew on your gum with a wink, torturing the poor boy as you leisurely blow a bubble big enough to pop.

"You- you know what I uh, what I meant", he tells you while trying his damndest to appear composed, his voice giving him away when it cracks enough to make you snicker.

He does have a point though, you could admit that much as you cut the jokes and decide to answer with a simple shrug. "I don't know. It's something I just got used to. There's enough space for everything I need. And besides, I hate having to carry a bag around. those things make my shoulders sore as all hell", you explain honestly although you can tell that Steve's nowhere near ready to move on from the subject just yet.

"Tell you what. Since you're so interested, how about a game? loser has to do whatever the winner says if you can guess how many other items I've got in here.

"Seriously?", he checks, eyes all round and alert.

"Yup", you confirm.

Knowing of three items already, he thinks hard. Much harder than he ever has before, his eyes fixed on your breasts, trying to ascertain what else might be hiding under your clothing, even working up a light sweat near his temple which makes you giggle.

Steve's making it out to be some sort of life or death deal and honestly, you liked how seriously he was taking this, showing you how much and how badly he wants to get a peek under your sweater.

"C'mon Harrington. Don't wanna be out here all day you know", you chide after another minute ticks by.

"Okay...five?"

Reaching inside, out comes the lighter, the gum and the money again, his eyes still hopeful when you fish out your apartment key followed by a tube of lip balm only for his face to crumble when you finally pull out a spare hair tie.

So close. He'd been so damn close as a really pitiful look of defeat spills over his face.

"Okay, so what to you want from me?", he groans, ever the sore loser.

You might have won but you don't feel any thrill in having done so. If you were being completely honest, you weren't exactly mad at the thought of Steve winning. In fact, you'd quietly hoped for him to do so just to see what he might have asked of you.

Well, you've got a pretty good guess as to what it might be.

Boobies, of course.

You didn't have to. You really didn't have to but the sight of him like this makes you feel oddly compelled to reward him anyway. Anything to wipe that dour look on his face.

Reaching round, you watch Steve's perplexed face with glee as you unclasp your bra and pull it out through your sleeve so seamlessly, winking at him before picking up the hem of your shirt and lifting it up to let him see your breasts bounce free and bare.

"Your undivided attention", you grin at his cherry red face, knowing full well this wouldn't be the last time you let him see them.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

no,ok,after reading the fic about yandere!yj where the reader finally laughs around them,I got an idea.

what if on a mission,something really bad happens,and the reader gets hit with some kind of toxin and at first she's fine,but when they get back she's like feeling cold as fuck ,and super clingy,and she's also sick,so the team takes advantage of it to take care of her since she's being Clingy for once,and even tho she's costantly swearing like a sailor she's showing them affection.

(these fics about magician reader are giving me so many ideas omfg,i'ma write smth in your honor one day😔)

Yandere! young Justice x magician! reader

The mission had gone sideways fast. A strange, toxic mist clouded the area, creeping in before anyone could react. You didn’t feel it at first—not until the battle was over and the team was retreating. But as the adrenaline faded, you felt the burn in your chest. Something wasn’t right, but you forced it aside. You’d faced worse.

By the time you made it back to the bioship, the cold hit you. Ice didn’t just bite at your skin—it sank deeper. Your body shook, shivers coursing through you no matter how many layers you pulled on. And no matter how many blankets the team piled around you, it wasn’t enough.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Robin asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he knelt beside you. His tone was laced with something that almost felt like concern, but you weren’t going to acknowledge that.

You glared up at him, teeth chattering. “I’m fine,” you snapped, but your words didn’t have the usual venom. They were weak, barely a whisper against the frigid chill crawling under your skin. Your body refused to cooperate as you tried to summon a magical shield to prove your point. It fizzled out in the air. “See? I’m fine.”

Superboy crouched beside you, eyeing you with that unsettling intensity of his. “You’re freezing,” he muttered, eyes scanning your shivering form, his voice carrying that deep concern.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, but the tremble in your words betrayed you. Before you could shove him away, he reached out, wrapping one of his large arms around your shoulders, pulling you closer. His warmth felt too good. You didn’t want to admit it, but it was like a lifeline, and you found yourself sinking into it.

“Can you not?” you grumbled, though you didn’t make a move to break away. You’d never been the type to show weakness, but right now, you couldn’t find the strength to care. The cold was consuming you, and for once, you didn’t fight it.

Back at the base, the cold seeped deeper. You pulled the blanket tighter around you but still shivered uncontrollably. Your body ached, and your head spun. Every movement was a battle. Even just breathing felt like you were sucking in frozen air. You cursed under your breath, feeling a strange sense of frustration that you couldn’t shake off.

“Don’t you people have lives? Or did you all decide to babysit me because you’ve got fuck-all better to do?” you snapped at the group hovering around you.

“We’re worried about you,” M’gann said softly, her glowing hands hovering over you as she tried to assess the toxin’s effects.

“Well, worry less, you green-faced motherhen,” you hissed, though you gripped her wrist weakly when she moved away. “...Not done yet. I’m still cold, damn it.”

“This is absolute bullshit,” you muttered as you wrapped your arms around yourself, teeth still chattering. “I’ve fought demons, I’ve fought gods, and I’m being taken out by this?”

Wally zipped in with a mug of hot tea, flashing you a grin that looked more forced than usual. “Not just demons and gods, huh? Now we’re adding bad gas to the list?”

"Shut up, speeder Gonzales." you snatched the tea from him with trembling hands, nearly spilling it. “Took you long enough,” you growled. “What, did you forget how to run?”

He gave you a cocky grin, but the worry in his eyes betrayed him. “Not all of us can pull off ‘grumpy icicle chic’ like you.”

“Grumpy?” you snapped. “Try fucking livid. You’d be too if your insides felt like Satan’s ballsack in the middle of a snowstorm.”

Superboy stayed close to you, not saying much but always there. It wasn’t until he pulled you into his side again that you felt something other than cold—the heat radiating from his body was unbearable, but it also brought a strange sense of safety. Normally, you’d snap at him for being too much of a protector. But now? You couldn’t find it in you to push him away. His warmth was the only thing making the cold feel less like torture.

“Don’t move,” you mumbled weakly, your voice barely audible as you closed your eyes, leaning further into him. “Or I swear I’ll hex your ass when I’m better.”

“You won’t,” Superboy said, voice low and steady. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, as if he knew you’d never really hurt him.

“Bet,” you croaked, but the words had no conviction. The cold was still there, and you were too exhausted to fight it, too weak to care.

Kaldur walked in, offering you a hand when you tried to sit up, but you shot him a glare that barely had the energy to be threatening.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, but your legs buckled when you tried to stand. Kaldur didn’t hesitate. Without a word, he lifted you with ease, settling you back on the couch, his grip firm but gentle.

“You’re insufferable,” you complained, even though you couldn’t hide the slight relief that came with being back down. "Fish-stick wannabe."

“And yet,” Kaldur said with a faint smile, “I remain here.”

You swore under your breath, but you didn’t tell him to leave. You don't know why.

When Artemis brushed your hair out of your face, you instinctively flinched, but this time, you didn’t pull away. The act of care was too much, and even though you hated it, you couldn’t push her off.

“Careful, Legolas,” you murmured, a weak attempt at humor. “You might ruin that badass archer rep you’ve got going.”

Artemis just chuckled softly. "Shut up, dumbass," she said, but the edge had softened, replaced by something almost affectionate. She tucked the blankets around you, her actions tender, though her tone remained sharp.

The toxin had stripped you of your usual defenses, leaving you raw, fragile, and too exhausted to keep the usual barriers between you and the team. Your sharp words were still there, still filled with cursing and frustration, but behind it all, you let them care for you. Even though you hated it, you needed it.

When you drifted in and out of a feverish sleep, muttering insults and curses under your breath, the team didn’t pull away. They stayed. They hovered. Not out of obligation, but out of something darker. Something you couldn’t quite name.

You might’ve hated it at first, but when you woke to find all of them around you, all of them close, warmth washing over you, you didn’t want them to leave. And you didn’t know if it was the fever or something else, but you didn’t care.

Maybe you didn’t want to be alone.

(A/n: this is just reader cursing LMAO and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE do make a magician reader on my honor 🥺 I would die peacefully thinking of you😇🙏 and I apologize if this reader behavior is different from the other magician reader fic I made, I forgot what I write 😞)

[darlingdaisyfarm]

It’s so sad how mullet Stan lacks content of him 😭😭I wish there would be more fics of him so that’s why im gently asking you to give us more mullet Stan crumbs, it can be anything, headcanons or fic 😔 I will eat everything you’ll serve

⤿❝ Mullet!Stanley x reader headcanons (sfw & nsfw)⭑

a/n: agree i agree just yeah 10000% ! traumatised guys with mullet, bad habits and abandonment, daddy and mental issues are my weak spot

sfw

ᯓ★ he’s terrified of commitment but more terrified of being alone. he’ll push you away just to see if you’ll stay. he wants to trust you, but he doesn’t trust himself

ᯓ★ when he finally realizes you’re not leaving, he clings hard. like, once he’s in? he’s all in. but the idea of starting a family? he wants it so bad but so scared of it. he doesn’t want to turn into his father. he’s aware of his emotional instability and the last thing he wants is to pass that onto a kid. he doesn’t even trust himself to be a good partner, let alone a parent

ᯓ★ despite everything, still has a soft spot for kids but refuses to admit it. will grumble and complain but the second a little kid looks up at him with big, teary eyes, he’s sighing and handing over the last piece of his candy bar

ᯓ★ he is a literal stray, a stray dog that growls when you first bring him home but now follows you everywhere. you don’t date mullet!Stanley, you accidentally adopt him. this man has no home, no direction, no plan. he crashes on your couch “just for a few days, toots, promise” and then six months later he’s still there, wearing your robe, drinking straight from the juice carton

ᯓ★ acts like he doesn’t care but is secretly the most doting boyfriend. will fix your car, carry your groceries, give you his jacket when you're cold, all without asking. he just does it

ᯓ★ he doesn’t take care of himself. showers once every few days, drinks too much, smokes too much, eats like shit. if you ever cook for him it breaks him, he just stares at the plate because it’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done to him, “you made this? for me?”

ᯓ★ road trip king. you wanna run away? hop in, sweetheart, we’ll figure it out on the way. the kind of guy who drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. he’s got half a pack of smokes, a cassette of shitty rock ballads and a mouth full of sweet-talking bullshit

ᯓ★ as i said, he acts like he doesn’t give a fuck but actually gives too many fucks. will pretend he doesn’t care when you get mad at him, but the second you turn away, he’s overthinking. “fuck what did i say? shit, why am i such an asshole?”

ᯓ★ if you tell him you love him, he always hesitates before saying it back. not because he doesn’t feel it, but because he doesn’t think he deserves it

ᯓ★ literally stunned when you take care of him. like, someone is doing something NICE for him??? with no ulterior motive???

ᯓ★ absolutely a ‘leaning’ boyfriend. leans against walls, leans against doorframes, leans against you. big strong arms wrapping around your waist from behind, head dropping onto your shoulder with a sigh

ᯓ★ survives off diner food, gas station snacks, and whatever you make him

ᯓ★ gets nervous when you’re nice to him. he’s been kicked down so many times, he doesn’t know how to handle kindness. the first time you tell him he looks good, he scoffs, says something self-deprecating, but then stares at himself in the mirror later, touching his face trying to see what you even saw in him

ᯓ★ secretly loves being babied. if you push his messy hair back, clean his cuts when he gets into a fight or tuck yourself into his side when he's sitting down, he fucking melts. “psh, ya don’t gotta do all that,” but his ears are bright red

ᯓ★ will steal anything for you. “ya like that necklace, sweetheart? consider it yours.” he’s a walking, talking, petty thief boyfriend who just wants to see you smile

ᯓ★ lets you play with his mullet when he’s feeling lazy. sits between your thighs while you brush it and if you’re gentle enough, he’ll doze off right there, resting his head against your stomach

ᯓ★ loves his car more than he should. will drag you to the garage to show you how he’s fixing up some old junker, but he looks so proud, you can’t even complain. bonus: he makes you sit in it for a “test drive” (he drives too fast just to see you scream and laugh)

ᯓ★ hands always busy. even when you’re just sitting together, his hands are moving, tinkering with something, rubbing circles on your thigh, tapping on table. he's anxious stressed guy

ᯓ★ he falls asleep anywhere instantly. he’s had years of shitty, uncomfortable sleep, so at this point he can knock out in two seconds flat. the first time you see it happen, you’re stunned. “Stan, are you seriously asleep right now—?” he is. sometimes, he falls asleep sitting up, mouth slightly open, arms crossed. if you try to move him, he’ll grunt, shift slightly and keep sleeping

ᯓ★ he’s a sucker for physical affection but doesn’t know how to ask for it. please, just hold him. run your fingers through his hair, rub his back, let him rest his head on your chest or stomach. sometimes, he’ll just stand behind you and wait until you notice and pull him into a hug. he won’t ask, but he needs it

ᯓ★ this man does not know how to handle being desired

nsfw

ᯓ★ he’s big. everywhere. broad chest, thick arms, a cock that barely fits. “c’mon, baby, you can take it. just a little more, there we go.”

ᯓ★ he’s a messy kisser. tongue, teeth, biting, groaning, he devours you. Stanley makes out like he’s trying to fuck you with just his mouth. his hands are always gripping your face, your neck, your hair, he’s desperate

ᯓ★ he loves fucking in places he shouldn’t. against the car, in an alley, in the backseat, behind a bar, on some random motel dresser, doesn’t matter. the risk of getting caught gets him off. zero patience. too horny to wait, too desperate to care where you are

ᯓ★ if you ever scratch his back? he fucking loses it. he wants you clawing at him, gripping his arms, pulling his hair. especially loves it when you bite his shoulder

ᯓ★ fucks like a guy who doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance again. so overwhelmed by how good you feel

ᯓ★ he groans and grunts. loud, unashamed. you know exactly how much he’s enjoying it because he never shuts the fuck up. if you try to shut him up, he just moans louder out of spite

ᯓ★ this man talks during sex. a LOT. filthy, filthy, filthy mouth

ᯓ★ but if you try to stifle your moans, oh, he won’t have that. “uh-uh, lemme hear ya, baby. don’t go all shy on me now.”

ᯓ★ he has an oral fixation, always has something in his mouth. a cigarette, a toothpick, his own damn fingers. pussy? oh, he’ll eat for hours if you let him. he’s enjoying it more than you are. his nose is pressed right against your clit, his tongue is buried deep inside you, his big hands are holding your thighs open so you can’t squirm away

ᯓ★ but what he REALLY loves? your fingers. if you put your fingers in his mouth, he’ll groan and suck on them absentmindedly. don't try to pull away, you’re not going anywhere. he’ll grab your wrist, keep your fingers between his lips and just look at you with those dark, needy eyes

ᯓ★ loves when you pull his hair so make sure to always grab and yank his mullet while he’s between your legs and he’ll groan into your pussy like he’s getting off on it

ᯓ★ the kind of man who will fuck you dumb just to make sure you don’t even remember anyone else’s name

ᯓ★ absolute menace with that tongue + so so messy. will spread your legs, settle between them and go to fucking work. licking, sucking, slurping, spitting on your clit, growling against your folds. doesn’t stop until you’re begging. “c’mon, sweetie, one more for me”

ᯓ★ absolutely gets off on how loud you are. doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night or the middle of the day, he’ll fuck you so good you’re screaming his name, he prefers it “Stanley” tho, not just Stan

ᯓ★ smokes like a chimney, including during sex. he’s the type to take a long drag of his cigarette while you’re riding him, exhaling the smoke lazily as he watches you bounce on his cock. “fuck, baby, keep goin’. look so pretty takin’ me like that.” then puts it out against the nightstand right before flipping you over and fucking you senseless

ᯓ★ smoking during foreplay too, pulls cigarette out of his mouth and presses it into the ashtray, muttering, “gonna put this out and focus on you, sweetie.”

ᯓ★ if you complain about him smoking too much, he’ll smirk, tilt your chin up, and say something like, “well, maybe if you keep me busy enough, i won’t need to smoke, huh?” such a brat tbh

ᯓ★ grabs whatever’s closest to tie you up. belt? works just fine. an old rag? perfect. (also wants to be tied up too)

ᯓ★ a tipsy Stan gets handsy, real handsy. he’s already got no shame sober, but when he’s had a couple of drinks, he can’t keep his hands to himself, your thighs, your waist, your ass

ᯓ★ praise him in the most filthiest way possible, call him big, tell him he’s stretching you out, tell him you’ve never had anyone fuck you like this. tell him how much you love his cock, how deep he is. he thrives on that shit, loves being told how good he feels. “fuck, baby, keep talkin’ like that and i might not last.” but he also LOVES teasing you. “poor thing, already dumb from my cock?”, “look at you, makin’ a mess all over me. filthy little thing.”

ᯓ★ i 100% believe that mullet!Stanley is a bratty switch who acts tough but turns into a desperate, whiny mess the second you take control. i think it needs its own post but ok

[dixons-sunshine]

Sweetest | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wounded and benched from runs for the week, Daryl was asked to watch the kids in the prison while you and some of the others worked on repairing a breach in one of the fences. One of the kids asked Daryl how he met you, his wife, and it made for a rather sweet tale.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Prison, pre season 4.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1.6k.

A/n: This turned out worse than I hoped, better than I expected. I don't really know how to explain it, but I hope you like this! (Thank you @ddamm and @dixondystopia for giving me your favourite moments from the entire series to add to this! They were pretty much the same, so great minds truly do think alike, as they say.)

“Mr Dixon?”

At the sound of his name being called, Daryl looked up from his baby girl and locked eyes with a little girl—Mika, he believed her name was—who was staring at him with a big smile. “Yeah?” he replied, slightly bouncing his knee when Hazel began fussing a little.

Mika giggled slightly, sharing a look with her sister, Lizzie, before turning back to the archer. “Mrs Dixon is your wife, right?” she inquired, bouncing slightly on her feet.

Daryl's lips involuntarily twitched up at the mere mention of you. He nodded and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah? Why do ya ask?”

“Well, my dad likes to talk about how he met my mom. Mr Greene has told us how he met his last wife a million times. We wanna know how you met Mrs Dixon!”

Almost as if for added emphasis, the other children all perked up and voiced their interest in knowing the tale of how Daryl met you, his beautiful wife. The archer, both amused by the children's nosiness and embarrassed by the metaphorical spotlight he was placed under, let out a small scoff and adjusted Hazel in his arms, allowing the small girl to happily toy with his fingers. “It ain't some big love story or nothin'. It'll only bore ya.”

“No, it won't,” Carl added from his position atop one of the tables. The teenager had been sulking because Rick had forbade him from helping fix the breach in the fence—where several walkers had managed to crawl through—but the chance of getting to know some insight to one of the most talked about couples in the prison brightened his mood somewhat. You and Daryl were the only couple that dated back before the outbreak, and everyone was eager to know how the two of you got together, and how you managed to keep that spark alive. “We wanna know. Come on, Daryl. Please.”

Daryl let out a small groan and rolled his eyes at the young Grimes' insistence. “Why dun' y'all go pester Glenn or somebody? M'sure he'd be more than happy to tell y'all 'bout how he met Maggie.”

“But he's told us that story a zillion times already,” one of the kids groaned. “We wanna hear your story. Please, Mr Dixon.”

Daryl let out a deep sigh. From somewhere behind him, he could hear Carol chuckle, closely followed by the chuckles of a few of the adults that were taking a break from their chores around the prison. Daryl shook his head and pursed his lips. “Y'all really wanna hear?” Almost instantly, all of the kids perked up and simultaneously voiced their clear interest, trying to talk over the other. Daryl raised his eyebrows and let out a small chuckle. “Woah, calm down. I ain't sayin' nothin' 'til y'all quiet down.” And just like that, it got so quiet, one could hear a pin drop. “Y/n and I go back many years, long 'fore all'a y'all kids were born. We're closin' in on three decades'a knowin' one another.”

“Thirty years?” Carl voiced in a disbelieving tone. “That's basically forever!”

Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “Guess ya can say tha', yeah.” Daryl shushed Hazel when she began fussing a bit, lightly tickling her stomach to coax a laugh from her. “We met when we were twelve, 'side this river in the woods outside the trailer park we lived in. I admit, I didn't know wha' to think'a her at first. Refused to talk to her fer a whole month, but she never gave up. She kept pesterin' me 'til one day, somethin' happened and I broke my quiet facade. Tha's when we started becomin' friends.” Daryl stopped and tried to hide the smile that spread across his face, but to no avail. “She, uh... She quickly became my best friend after tha'.”

“When did you start love-liking her?” one of the kids asked with a giggle, closely followed by the mischievous laughter of the other kids.

Daryl hummed and shrugged. “After she did somethin' fer my sixteenth birthday. I liked her fer a while 'fore tha', but tha' occasion was my wake-up call. My feelin's fer her slapped me righ' in the face tha' day.” He stopped and let out a small sigh before continuing. “I didn't have the balls to confess to her fer 'nother year after tha'. And when I did confess, it was righ' after we went and bought pa—” Daryl cut himself off, painfully aware of the immature teenage boys that would freak out over the mere mention of pads. Because of that, he altered the truth a little. “...Pasta fer dinner tha' nigh'. Things escalated and we kissed, and then her mom walked in.”

“No,” Beth gasped, slightly tightening her grip on Judith as she thought of the embarrassing scenario.

Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “It was embarrassin' as shi—crap, tha's fer sure, but we lived. Her mom was nice 'bout it all. Definitely didn't mean we could escape her teasin', though.” He pursed his lips as he thought of that moment, the embarrassment still fresh in his mind, even all those years later. “Her teasin' got even worse when Y/n and I eloped. She was kinda upset 'bout it, but she soon went straight back to teasin' us fer not bein' able to wait to have a proper weddin'.”

By that point, unbeknownst to the archer, the group that had been working on fixing the fence—a group that included you—had silently stepped into the part of the prison everyone was in to alert the kids to the fact that they could go play. However, once they heard what the crossbow-wielding man was talking about, they stopped and remained quiet, eager to hear about it all. And you stayed quiet as well, quite shocked that your husband was willingly telling stories about his past with you. He preferred to keep that part of his life private, but there he was, happily talking away. It made your heart swell with love and affection for the man.

“The two of you stayed together for all those years?” Zach—Beth's boyfriend—asked, leaning against the wall. When Daryl nodded, he continued. “How?”

Daryl shrugged and adjusted his daughter in his arms again, feeling her head begin to droop as she was beginning to fall asleep. “I love 'er. And fer some reason I still don't understand 'til this day, she loves me. Ain't tha' hard to stay committed to the person ya love the most. Relationships ain't always all sunshines and rainbows, but when yer with the person ya love, s'all worth it. Y/n taught me tha'. She's the sweetest person ever. I dun' know wha' I did to deserve her, but I thank my lucky stars every day tha' I get to call her mine.”

It went silent after that. The only sound that could be heard was the distant sound of walkers groaning outside the fences. That is, until Rick spoke up from behind the huntsman, startling him and alerting him to the fact that essentially everyone had heard him practically rave about you.

“Well said, brother. Well said,” Rick complimented him, a faint, teasing smile on his face. He turned towards the younger ones in the group and gestured towards the door. “Y'all can go play now. Just stay away from the fences.” And just like that, all the kids—except Carl—had forgotten their need to hear about Daryl's love story with you. They all excitedly darted out the door, their laughter fading as they disappeared out the doors.

Michonne smirked, playfully hitting you on the back. “Y/n, you never told me you found such a keeper. And you found him early on, too. You're so lucky.”

“Yeah, she is,” Carol chipped in, a teasing smile on her face as well. “Did I ever tell you about this one guy in our old camp that insulted her and Daryl instantly put him on his ass? He did accidentally reveal her pregnancy while doing so, but that's besides the point.”

“Was it Shane?” Rick asked, sighing when Carol nodded. “Yeah, of course it was,” he mumbled while he shook his head.

“Not to mention how he nearly killed Jenner because he wouldn't let us out—well, wouldn't let them out. He didn't care much for us back then. We all know he only wanted the doors open so that Y/n was safe,” Glenn piped in.

“Aw,” Michonne cooed teasingly. “That is so sweet, Daryl. You're just a big teddy bear.”

Daryl ducked his head in embarrassment as the others joined in on the teasing as well. He could feel his cheeks flush, and he would've gotten up and bolted from the embarrassing situation, had it not been for the fact that Hazel had just fallen asleep, and he didn't want to wake her.

The feeling of your hand being rested on his shoulder almost instantly made him calm down, your familiar touch bringing a sense of comfort to him. The rest of the group were to busy relaying their favourite moments they had seen between the two of you to notice this interaction, and the archer was glad about that. He was also glad that they couldn't hear what you whispered in his ear, because although Daryl Dixon wasn't a selfish man, the others didn't have to hear these words you clearly meant just for him:

“I'm proud of you. You climbed out of your shell today and did something I know you don't always enjoy doing. You're amazing, Daryl Dixon, and I love you so much.” You placed a soft, tender kiss on his cheek. “You really are the sweetest person ever.”

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[secretlysamcro]

Female Reader x Jax Teller Slight violence, slight smut, explicit language & adultery If you're under the age of 18, haven't finished the show or dislike any of said topics, please read no further. Till it's gone - Yelawolf Played: Season 7, Episode 2

“Damn it, y/n, it’s not that easy!” Jax’s voice echoes through the confined space of the van that’s currently parked in your usual location - a secluded area of a underground parking lot, frustration and anger lingering in the air as he turns to look at you.

Jax’s words were heavy…growing increasingly frustrated with your need to ask the same question over and over.

Jax isn’t a stupid man, he’s fully aware that cheating on Tara is wrong, but he also knows that leading you on is just as bad.

He found himself in this constant vortex of wanting -no, needing to end things with you but forever being unable.

“I’m not a fool Jax, there’s no need to pretend” you shake your head in disbelief laughing slightly. “I know I’m just your escape when things get bad at home”

“Then why bother asking y/n?” Jax growled, his voice rumbling, he displays his anger by punching the steering wheel, the sound of his ‘SO’ and ‘NS’ rings clanking against the wheel breaking the deafening silence.

“Become a man jax!” You say mockingly “handle your own for once” you knew your words would do nothing more than stir the rage that had already risen.

Jax’s struggle to contain the bubbling anger was evident as his eyes darkened with intensity. Grabbing your face. He forcefully turns your head to meet those darkened ocean eyes, refusing you the chance to look away.

“Watch your damn mouth y/n” he warned his tone sounding possessive.

Reluctantly, you pull your face away. Fighting back tears, recognising Jax’s temper. Even though you’d experienced little glimpses of his aggression during your secret intimate moments, you’ve never witnessed it out of that context - not directed at you anyway.

“I’m fucking sick of this Jax…you only ever call me when you want to get your dick wet, other than that I don’t hear from you”. Your voice quivers slightly, Jax can almost hear the anger and hurt. “I ain’t the stepping stone to be stepping on Jax, you need to sort your marriage out and leave me out of this…I ain’t nobody’s crutch”.

Jax’s gaze remains fixed forward, avoiding eye contact. He fidgets restlessly whilst sat in the drivers seat, running his fingers through his hair and adjusting his kutte. “Ain’t much I can do” Jax lets out a deep sigh, sounding uncharacteristically less confident, his voice tinged with a hint of defeat. “Unless you’re looking to check out”. Jax finally made eye contact with you again, his gaze locking with yours. The weight of his unspoken thoughts lingered behind the intense stare.

Despite knowing (whether he’d admit it or not) that Jax was only using you as a way to release his pent up stress from his marriage, the thought of bringing an end to this intimate arrangement left you feeling strangely saddened.

Deep down, you knew it was for the best. Staying in contact with Jax who’s only been using your pussy as comfort, isn’t fair on you. You’ve already been putting your life on hold for him, to be there for him, to comfort him, falling for him… when to him, you were just a warm place to seek pleasure without the weight of emotional connection.

“I guess I’ll never be the needle in the haystack that you finally found” your words echoing a previous conversation shared between the two of you where you both confessed a wish to have met under different circumstances.

Jax remained completely silent, nervously biting down on his lips as he starts the engine. His rough hand moving to rest on the back of the seat you currently occupied as he begins to reverse out of the parking lot. He refrains from speaking, keeping his pristine white air force 1’s on the gas pedal driving directly to your house.

Jax silently brings the van to a stop as he pulls up to where you live, switching off the engine whilst his lips remained sealed. The air between you both growing thick with tension.

You waited a brief moment, hoping for him to break the silence and say something, but as the seconds ticked by and his stubbornness persisted, the realisation had settled in that Jax had no intentions to speak.

Pulling yourself together, you take a deep breath and then clear your throat softly… “Well you know what they say Jax…”

He doesn’t utter a single word, but his eyes shift in your direction silently waiting to hear what it is you have to say.

“You never know what you’ve got till it’s gone”

With your final words spoken, you step out of the van. Forcefully closing the door behind you. Without even acknowledging Jax, your footsteps disappear into the night as you make your way to the entrance of your home. The conversation still lingering heavily in the thoughts of you both.

Gifs, photos & music do not belong to me.

PART 2

Jax Teller masterlist

xoxo secretly samcro

[steddiealltheway]

Gareth is sick and tired of Eddie refusing to admit that he has a crush on Steve Harrington.

At first, Gareth had just brushed it off when Eddie seemed so adamant about interrogating Steve and his involvement with his new lost sheep. He had done something similar when he meet Gareth's few middle school friends the year before. But Eddie seems to think that one meeting isn't enough and insists that's why he always needs to rush out to talk to Steve and invade his space when he picks up the kids from Hellfire.

Gareth sees right through it. Eddie had come out to him a while ago saying he was definitely some form of queer after Gareth caught him making out with a guy in the Hideout bathroom. And he was more than okay with it.

But he is not okay with the way Eddie refuses to tell him - his best friend - that he has a crush on Steve.

"Then why do you always go to Family Video during his shifts and not buy anything, huh? Plus, you know that you never call anyone 'big boy.' Yes, I heard that when you were flirting with him after our last Hellfire campaign."

Eddie just rolls his eyes and dramatically flings out his arms. "I'm making sure the kids are safe with him."

Gareth snorts in response to that bullshit, and Eddie gives him an unimpressed look.

"Well, I'm going to Family Video to get a movie for my mom, and I would appreciate-"

"Yeah, I'll give you a ride," Eddie interrupts, looking way too happy to offer.

Gareth sighs but doesn't push it. He really needs to ride, and if the only reason Eddie's offering is to give him an excuse to be there... Gareth will take it and hopefully not be expected to pitch in for gas.

A quick ride over later, Gareth is almost displeased to see Steve behind the counter, eyes lighting up when he sees Eddie. Those two are absolutely ridiculous, and if Eddie would pull his head out of his ass for once, then Gareth could finally tell him that Steve likes him too.

He lets them lean into each other and practically giggle over anything the other has to say until he finds his movie and goes to the counter. That's when he finally notices Robin Buckley there staring at the two with a mix of fondness and irritation. Gareth is sure that he has the same look on his face.

He shoots her a knowing look, and Robin's eyes widen in an expression of hopeless, those two. Gareth gestures between the two and rolls his eyes - absolutely.

Then, they both look at each other in realization. Gareth knows Robin is cool and a bit awkward from their interactions in band classes, but he didn't know that she was that cool. And that she definitely knows about whatever thing is between those two.

Robin levels him with the same look, staring him up and down before finally seeming to settle on that he's cool too and also knows. They both kind of nod at each other in agreement that certain things need to be unspoken, but they absolutely need to rant about the two idiots.

They both start talking at the same time.

"Oh my gosh, I thought it was just me-"

"You have no idea how long I've needed to talk to someo-"

They stop and laugh a bit, both looking toward the boys, but they don't even register the interaction especially since Steve is tucking a strand of hair behind Eddie's ear while Eddie stares at him with heart eyes. Love is gross.

Robin takes Gareth's tape and goes through the process of ringing him up. "It's like they both are oblivious to the other's feelings."

"They are! Eddie won't even admit his feelings to himself, and I've been pushing it," Gareth complains, pinching his nose. He thinks he might feel a tension headache starting to form from those two.

Robin thuds her fingers on the counter in thought then slides Gareth's tape back at him. "Eddie's the jealous type, right?"

Gareth nearly scoffs. Jealous can be a bit of an understatement when it comes to him. "Of course."

Robin gets a grin that kind of scares Gareth to the core. She leans over the counter and whispers, "Then, I need you to flirt with Steve."

His jaw absolutely drops. "No way. Eddie would murder me!"

"And why would he if he has no feelings for him?" Robin asks with a bit of a manic twinkle in her eye that reminds him of Eddie.

Shit, she's right. It's definitely a plan that will work and finally get Eddie to admit how he feels... but also could get Gareth killed and banned from ever talking to Eddie again.

He glances over at the two and notices the way Eddie is blushing and trying to hide behind his hair as Steve stares on proudly. Gareth sighs. "Okay, I'll confront him one more time, and if he doesn't admit it after this little show, then I'll go through with the plan."

Robin sticks her hand across the counter and Gareth shakes on it. "Eddie should come in around six tomorrow during our shift. Come back before then with your tape or something as an excuse and have at it with the dingus here. But, you'll probably only be able to chat with him because I haven't seen him flirt with someone in a while - not since your dingus showed up. That should be enough to set Eddie off though, right?"

"Absolutely."

Robin laughs and loudly says, "Pleasure doing business with you. We hope to see you back at Family Video soon."

This startles Steve and Eddie out of the trance they put each other in, and Gareth watches with full annoyance as Eddie goes all puppy dog eyes as he sadly says goodbye to Steve.

In the parking lot, Gareth says, "You absolutely-"

And Eddie is quick to interrupt him, "Don't have feelings for him!"

Oh yeah. The plan is on.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next day with only a few minutes to spare before Eddie shows up, Gareth returns with his tape and a pulse that is way too high for his own good. When Robin sees him come through the door, she tells Steve that she's taking her break and shoots Gareth a thumbs up.

God, what has he gotten himself into?

He walks up to the counter and slides the tape across. "Hey, I need to return this."

Steve smiles at him politely but frowns when it doesn't ring up.

"I think Robin didn't ring it up for me yesterday. I don't remember paying," Gareth confesses. This is probably yet another part of Robin's genius plan to force them to have a longer interaction.

Steve looks him up and down for a moment then says, "Hey, I know you. You're Gareth. Eddie talks about you all the time, but I didn't know you knew Robin."

And woah, he did not expect Steve Harrington to know a single thing about him. Honestly, he's a bit flattered and even begins to blush a bit. "Yeah, we've had a few band classes together."

"That's cool. What do you play?" Steve presses on, leaning into the counter not in the flirtatious way he does with Eddie, but Gareth thinks as a means to make him more comfortable.

"Drums in the jazz band," he readily admits.

Steve's eyebrows furrow in thought. "I didn't know Hawkins even had a jazz band. I'll have to come see you play sometime."

"Yeah?" Gareth asks in disbelief and a bit of awe. It's Steve Harrington for Christ's sake. Of course, he's going to get a bit taken aback by the fact that he wants anything to do with him. He feels that damn blush again and barely registers the bell to the door ringing behind him.

"Yeah, man," Steve says with a smile. "Sounds cool as shit."

Someone clears their throat behind them and Gareth jumps a bit. He turns quickly to find Eddie fixing him with a look of hurt mixed with rage at the sight of Gareth leaning toward Steve with a damn blush on his face. He's not into him, but he can definitely admit that Steve just has some type of pull to him. But Eddie definitely does not see it that way.

"Gareth, can I talk to you outside?"

Gareth nods and doesn't utter a sound. Oh, he's going to kill him. He's about to die. He absolutely should not have gone through with this plan.

He wanders outside toward Eddie's van and lets Eddie talk first.

"What the fuck was that in there?" Eddie asks with anger in his tone but hurt in his eyes.

Gareth just shrugs in response and waits for Eddie to finally confess that he has feelings for Steve and he needs to back off.

Only, he doesn't. He just stands there staring at Gareth, and for some reason it pisses him off so he pushes. "Just thought that if you didn't have feelings for him then I could take a shot at him."

Eddie's mouth opens and closes until he finally huffs, "Great for you. You have a better chance anyways so good luck to you."

Eddie flips him off and starts heading to the driver's side of his van, but Gareth runs and gets there first. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

Eddie crosses his arms but keeps a scary tension in his shoulders. "I mean that you're not the town freak, so you can have at him!"

Gareth scoffs and digs a finger into his chest. "That's why you won't admit you have feelings for him! You don't think he likes you!"

Eddie's arms fling wide open. "Of course, he doesn't like me! But I'm not about to cry over some bullshit feelings that will never be returned, so let me just have whatever it is between me and him and not have to put this label on how it makes me feel because I don't want to fucking deal with it! Let me live in sweet ignorance!"

"And that's where you're wrong," someone who is not Gareth says.

"Christ!" both Eddie and Gareth say startling back.

Steve stands in front of them with his arms crossed, but he only stares at Eddie. "What was that about bullshit feelings? Because I don't know about you, but I definitely like you."

Eddie's face flushes a bit red as he steps closer to Steve, unable to stay out of his space whenever he's nearby. "My feelings for you aren't bullshit at all. They're just fucking scary as hell, man."

Steve laughs softly and steps into Eddie's space. "You don't think that I've been scared, too? I would've made a move on you weeks ago if you would've said something."

"Well, I'm saying something now," Eddie says with a big smile.

Gareth really doesn't think he should be witnessing this.

Steve's eyes flicker down to Eddie's lips as he huskily says, "You sure are."

Yeah, Gareth has had enough of this shit. "Hey, guys?" Gareth says, interrupting them and ignoring Eddie's hell of a death glare. "Sorry to ruin your moment, but I'm still here. Plus, you're in a public parking lot."

Eddie still glares at him, but Steve nods. "Thanks, Gareth." He turns back to Eddie. "He's right, but luckily for you, I know of this really nice breakroom that has a door that locks. Plus, I was waiting for you to come so I could take my break."

Eddie's sour look drops from his face, and he practically starts buzzing with excitement. "Let's not waste another moment then."

Gareth is truly happy for them, but he doesn't think he ever wants to hear them interact again. But on their way back, Eddie stops and says something then runs back to Gareth and pulls him into a hug. "I love you, man. Thank you for dealing with me, but if I ever see you flirt at Steve again..."

Gareth pulls away from the hug and shoves Eddie's shoulders. "I wasn't flirting! I was talking to him to make you jealous and finally admit your feelings."

"Then what the hell was that blush!"

"He's like royalty! How else am I supposed to act when I find out he knows my name!"

Eddie takes a moment to really stare at Gareth then he gets a weird smile on his face. "You know, Steve knows this guy named Will..."

Gareth shoves Eddie again to cut him off. "Have fun making out with your boyfriend."

Eddie smiles widely then turns to run back to the store. Gareth smiles and watches as the two loudly laugh when they both try to squeeze through the doorway at the same time.

Then, Gareth looks around and realizes that by having his mom drop him off that he has no ride. He sighs and heads back to the store. Maybe he and Robin can celebrate, and she can tell him more about this Will while he waits...

[ghost-proofbaby]

the cool down (e.m.)

request: from the lovely @mrsjellymunson: Please may I have a 🍋 (with 🍓 elements if there’s room) with Eddie Munson (friends-to-lovers, or established relationship, or your choice of other) in a super-hot, uncomfortable van on a really hot day (or day into evening), where he and reader have to come up with ever-more-daring/inventive ways to cool down/off, and maybe they end up next to, or in, Lover’s Lake?? I’m thinking cool cans of drink/beer, water sprays, fans, wet clothing…

a/n: okay this definitely took on a mind of its own and i just realized i did not have any water sprays or fans or wet clothing, but i did have eddie come up with a sort of unique way to cool us down <3 i hope you still enjoy this, kittie!! <3 <3 (also, if you squint, reader is alluded to having a chronic illness that causes extreme weather conditions to affect them. and i mean, you really have to squint. it's just very very vague since i got lost in the sauce of smut).

warnings: smut, oral f receiving, reader is afab, allusion to oral m receiving at the end, temperature play (ice). minors dni.

wc: 3.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

First, it had been to go driving around to get your minds off the heat. 

And it had worked. Eddie’s van was certainly not any cooler than the trailer had been, but something about riding around the town aimlessly with all the windows down did get your mind off the unbearable heatwave. Something about Eddie, singing along purposefully off-key to his favorite songs, his hand resting lightly on your thigh as you laughed at him, made it all a little less terrible. His genius plan had worked – for the first hour. 

Then, it had been to go to the gas station and get slushies. 

An even better plan than his original one, honestly. You’d gone from staring at his dash while the van stalled at a red light, desperately trying to focus on anything but that creeping sickness at the edges of your mind, when he’d brought it up. One moment, your stomach is dropping as you feel that familiar light-headedness. The next, your en-route for a cherry slushy, on your doting boyfriend’s dime. 

You win some, you lose some. 

The losing being the terrible affect the heat currently had on you now that you were laying out in the back of Eddie’s van now, parked at Lover’s Lake, the water doing nothing to cool the smothering breeze enveloping you two. 

“So, did you bring me all the way out here to kill me, or just stare at the lake all night?” you ask after taking another sip of the tart frozen treat currently cooling both your mouth and palms. It’s melting fast, the plastic cup holding it never standing a chance against your body heat mingling with the summer air. 

Eddie had insisted upon coming straight to the lake after the gas station. Urging you to walk back to the van faster as he’d held a cup in each hand; one blue raspberry slushy, and one mystery styrofoam cup he refused to admit just what it contained. 

As Eddie speaks, you can see his purple stained tongue, “Who says I’m gonna kill ya?” 

“All the movies,” you drawl, stretching your legs out in front of you, the soles of your sandals not even reaching the edge of the van. The thrown-open doors sway ever so slightly in the wind, “Why else would you bring me here, so far away from civilization?” 

“So no one could hear you.” 

You can’t help the laugh that immediately slips out. You nearly choke on your straw you’d lifted back up to your lips, side-eyeing him through a few wild coughs. 

“Excuse me?” 

He clearly hadn’t processed what he’d just said, because his eyes go wide as he attempts to backtrack, “Wait, wait, wait! No! I just- I didn’t mean-” he pauses and sighs, leaning his head back to wipe a frustrated palm over his face, “Oh my God, sweetheart, I’m not going to kill you. I didn’t mean it in a murderer way – I meant it in a horny way.” 

The horny comment nearly goes entirely over your head, “You’re not going to kill me? That’s something a murderer would say- wait, did you just say you meant it in a horny way?”

You both stare at each other for a short while, matching blown out pupils and chests rising in sync as you both suck in impossible bursts of parching oxygen only to blow them out in rapid successions. 

“I did,” he finally breathes out, timidly reaching behind him, revealing that styrofoam cup once more. 

Not even a drop of sweat on it yet. It’s holding up tremendously better than your slushies had. 

“What’s in the cup?”

You’re feeling bold, ignoring the pooling perspiration at the nape of your neck as you scoot yourself a bit closer, fighting a smile. 

“Well, I know the heat bothers you a lot…”

“Right.”

“And I was trying to think of ways to cool you down…”

“Of course.”

“But also just take your mind off of it, in general.”

“That all sounds great, Eddie,” you lean forward, slushy cup pressing into your kneecap as you reach forward for the mystery cup. Eddie is quick to fling his arm up, keeping it far out of your reach, “But what’s in that damn cup?”

Instead of answering right away, he grins slowly, wiggling his eyebrows comically until you roll your eyes at him. 

“Fine, keep your secr-”

“Lay back for me, baby.”

He purrs out the command, the sweet nickname a cherry on top. 

In a blink of an eye, your joking boyfriend has vanished, someone more confident and commanding in his place. A sight to see, really. There’s only a few times you’re awarded the sight: when Eddie is navigating you through crowded bars with a steady hand pressed to your lower back, when Eddie is hosting his weekly DnD nights that you’ve earned a lifetime invite to, when Eddie is on a stage and entirely within his element as his first sweetheart hangs from his shoulders.

And whenever he has you like this, already compliant and doe-eyed, a toying smile tugging at your lips as you follow through with his demands. 

It’s a welcome switch, a welcome presence. 

“Good girl,” he awards you softly, and you have to choke back a giggle. 

He was just a stuttering mess, defending himself like a clumsy fool. An adorable dork pulling at your heart strings. And now, he’s a vision of assuredness. Of determination. 

It’s hot. It’s great. It’s enough to get your mind off the dwindling summer heat that rises around the lake’s perimeter. 

“So,” he continues, popping the lid off the cup finally. There’s not a sign of liquid nearing the rim of the cup where you can see, and your face twists in a bit of confusion, “Here’s what’s going to happen – here I have a wonderfully not melted cup of ice,” he tilts it, and you can finally see the pebbled ice cubes. Suddenly, the entire situation has become significantly less funny, “And you’re clearly in need of a cool down. See where I’m going with this, sweetheart?” 

You do. But it’s more fun to play dumb. 

“I don’t think I do,” you sigh out, stretching so that your tank top rises and exposes your midriff, “Might need a demonstration.” 

It’s a vibrant green light for him – he’s quick to set the cup aside and focus all his efforts on undressing you. Hands that are still shaking – because it’s Eddie and his hands will always shake when it comes to you – and eager fingers tracing lines over your hips before he fiddles with the button of your jean shorts. Taking his time with each caress, murmuring words that strike flames within the pit of your stomach, a more welcome internal warmth than what the summer offers. 

He pauses once the shirt and shorts have been discarded, and you almost think for a moment, he might begin to pepper soft kisses across your exposed skin. 

He doesn’t. 

He grabs the styrofoam cup once more instead, keeping eye contact with you as he pulls an ice cube out. Before he formally places it between his lips, he pauses, leaning forward with a glint in his eyes as he instructs, “Think you can stay still for me, baby?” 

Funny how easy it is to turn to stone until someone requests it of you. 

The ice cube is slotted between his lips, pretty and pink as they wrap around the salvation that quickly starts to melt. A drip of water is already running down his chin by the time he’s leaning down over your body, not yet touching your spasming abdomen, just hovering as he watches the way your body fights against his instruction. 

No words are needed – even if he could speak with the ice in his mouth – as his eyes flick up to yours. Arson umber pupils that command you silently. 

Stay still, they whisper. And you try to – you really, really try to. 

The first drop of cold water hits your skin as it shakes from restraint, from stuttering breaths, from anticipation. He’s teasing you; he’s taking his time as he grows closer and closer to properly pressing the cube and his lips against you. You swear, for just a moment, this entire grand idea was doing the opposite of its purpose. Heat was radiating off of you in waves, with no plans of cooling down any time soon. 

And then his lips are on your skin. 

Sweet relief, chills racing down the spine, a sigh slipping past your lips as your back arches desperately. He’s pinpointed the exact center between your hips, just below your navel, with everything you’ve begun to crave. Lips losing their heat with every passing second and the tip of the cube trail around in a lazy circle as he keeps looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, corners of his mouth twitching with the temptation of a smile when your fingers tangle in the roots of his hair. You have half the mind to completely undo his already ruined bun – you have half the mind to guide him to exactly where you need him most. 

“Fuck,” you gasp out, voice barely a hiccup over the cicadas. It feels nice, it feels good. 

The stifle of the van’s air is all but forgotten as he just keeps trailing the ice along your skin, letting it slowly melt until there’s nothing left but the remnants of a chill on his tongue and lips. And he takes those frozen lips, quickly putting them to use as he lets them drag along a pathway to your left hip. No rush. You’ve both got all the time in the world as he presses a hard kiss to that hip, lips pursing and sucking a bit before he shifts to make his way to the right one instead. 

Teasing, taunting, relieving. 

By the time he’s made it to the other hip, the heat has begun to creep back up. 

“You look real pretty like this, you know?” he asks you, hand shooting out blindly to get another ice cube, “Just laying here for me, sighing all cutely and shit,” your fingers tighten in his hair, “Oh, do you like that, baby? Like me calling it how I see it?” 

It’s in his confident tone. The buzz shooting straight through your brain that drowns out the sounds of summer when he talks to you like this. Every syllable has you preening for more of his affection, his attention, his approval. 

You’re finally dizzy with want and need rather than summertime sickness. 

“You’re a fucking vision,” his breath is hot against you as he says it, waiting for just a moment before he lifts up and yanks his shirt off with boyish charm. When he settles back between your legs, he makes a point to lay the backs of your bare thighs against his naked shoulders, sweaty skin sticking to sweaty skin, “I would do anything for you. Fucking anything. Say the word, and it’s yours.” 

Right as he places another ice cube in his mouth, dropping cool fingertips that are wet with condensation to trail from the peak of your knee and down, you take him at his word.

You say the word. 

“Kiss me,” you beg.

“Where?”

Not a taunt. Just a clarification. The game is up, and you both know it.

“There.”

“We’re not teenagers,” he snorts, voice a bit garbled as he passes the ice from cheek to cheek, “Use your big girl words.” 

This time, your hand is his hair does remove the bun entirely, hairtie lost somewhere recklessly to be found later as thick curls wrap around your fist. “Jesus Christ, I want you to kiss me on my fucking pussy, Eddie. Is that what you want to hear? Quit teasing and-” 

“Your pussy?” he interrupts, eyes darkening ever so slightly, tsking slightly, “No, no. That won’t do. Because from what I can see, this pussy is mine, sweetheart. She’s purring for me right now, dripping like these damn ice cubes-”

“Then kiss me on your damn pussy.��

Another ice cube is slotted between his lips, one you hadn’t noticed him grabbing, and he does exactly as he’s told. 

The cold shocks you initially, nearly making your hips jump away from his touch entirely. But you can’t as his forearm comes over to rest across the hips he’d just worshiped, other hand tightly gripping onto the flesh of any thigh he can grab onto, pulling you tighter and closer to him. 

The same circles he had just trailed beneath your navel return in a new location, skimming your clit now. 

“Oh my God,” you whine, shoulder blades digging into the uncomfortable surface of the van’s floor below the makeshift padding of blankets, “Please, please.” 

He doesn’t tease you and ask you to spell out what you’re imploring of him this time. What small bit of the ice was left in his mouth slips out, slowly trailing down, down, down. Lighting a path of incessant mercy along its way as it skirts around your clit, ending up nearly slipping inside of you as it slows at your entrance. 

A cold, freezing trail of water left behind, and Eddie’s hot tongue is quick to follow it in reverse. 

He deliberately keeps it flat, avoiding filling you where you want it most. 

He’s still taking his time, moving slower than the cube has as he laps at your folds steadily. One long stride, and you’re squirming. The contrast between the heat of his mouth and the chill that the ice had left behind sends you whirling, stomach clenching as you let out more little gasps. 

It only eggs him on. 

He flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue to finish his path, moving back only to take a sharp breath of his own before his lips wrap around it and suck. 

The steady rhythm of suction elicits countless moans from you, all trailing off into desperate whispers, both hands fully buried in Eddie’s curls as he has to fight harder to keep your hips pressed down. Praises of his name, pants of keep going. Your vision blurs in a way that doesn’t send panic through your bones, and you welcome the tunnel vision as he lets go of his grip around your thigh to press his fingertips against your entrance. 

He mumbles something, a reverberating hum that has you clenching around nothing, but he’s not willful enough to take his mouth off you long enough to properly enunciate. 

“What - ah - what was that?” you breathe out, hardly able to get the words out around your pants as you feel that pressure building between your hips, desperate for release. 

Willpower in overdrive, he pulls himself away from being buried against you, “I said, I want you to come for me, sweetheart.” 

To emphasize his point, he plunges in two fingers, curling them in a petting motion that spells out your demise. 

Your body reacts to the words before your brain can catch up. That pressure, the ever growing knot building, building, building – it snaps within a second of his lips finding your clit again. 

His fingers, knuckle deep in your cunt. His nose, buried in your bush. The cold, still lingering with a vengeance against the odds. 

The sensory overload does you in. You feel weightless, unaware of just how hard you’re tugging on his curls or the slight rhythm he’s built with his own hips against the blankets below. The high rushes over you, drowning out everything in its path and wrapping you up just as the summer warmth had previously. And he’s relentless, carrying you through every wave, never once faltering. 

You understand what he’d said earlier – you’re glad no one can hear you at this moment as you throw away any false God and only say prayers in Eddie’s name. 

White vision fades to black, and your entire body goes slack as your eyes flutter shut in exhaustion. The sweat covering your body almost offers some relief as a breeze wiggles its way through the van’s back doors.

He crawls back up your body slowly, coming home to the space you allot him as you further spread your trembling thighs and he peppers the lightest of sincere kisses up your ribcage. Warm lips you feel drawing roadways until he’s finally lining them up your neck, your cheeks, your own hot lips. 

“Still with me?” 

You only hum in response, hand feeling blindly to lightly caress his bare back. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, breath fanning out against your temple as he places a last few kisses, just because. 

When you finally force your heavy lids back open, you’re welcomed to the sight of whiskey eyes and a soft nose, shining for a reason only the two of you know. You swear, you can’t decipher if the pink smattering across his cheeks and bridge of his nose is from the heat, or from a  proper blush at the sight of you. 

It makes your insides melt more than any hot summer day. 

“It worked,” is all you laugh out, pads of your fingers still pressing softly into the smooth skin of his shoulder blades, a weak attempt to bring him closer. 

“It worked?” 

“You took my mind off the heat.” 

His lashes might be fluttering even more than your own, hips lowering against yours, heavy and bated as you come back down to Earth. You swear he’s never been prettier than he is right now, with you all over his mouth and bangs sticking to his forehead from the sweat. 

You almost card your fingers through them, expose the spanse of skin beneath just to offer the softest of kisses in return to him. Almost. 

“Good,” he grins with a boyish mirth, looking overly accomplished, “Did you ever even doubt me?” 

“Maybe.”

Your teasing tone has him poking out a tongue that’s a few shades lighter of purple than before, him finally rolling his body off of the top of yours. 

“I’ll give you a minute,” he jokes, throwing his head back as your eyes follow. You can see a bead of sweat making its way down his cheekbone, slipping away into his hairline, “And then I’ll fuck that doubt away.” 

Your stomach flutters as your eyes wander, taking in his exposed neck, following the creases in his skin down his chest. The way his stomach shakes a little with each breath, and the way you zero in on each quiver of that dark line of hair starting at his navel and disappearing into the band of his pants. 

The very obvious, very strained bulge within his pants. 

Suddenly, an idea comes to mind. 

You sit up a bit faster than is smart, and you ignore the stars in your vision as you quickly situate yourself to perch by his hip. He starts to lift himself back up, hands already flying out to keep you steady, but you only swat them away as you lean over him to grab an ice cube out of the styrofoam cup. 

“I think I’ll need more than a minute,” you lie, pressing him back down fully, movements full of determination as he watches you with hooded eyes, “How about for now, I give you a taste of your own medicine, pretty boy?” 

The ice is slotted between your own lips, and the whine Eddie lets out is answer enough.

[w2soneshots]

i had an idea about ginge and reader doing like guess what the words mean, like british words since reader is from another country? if you get what i mean?🙈💗

Celebrity crush -Angry ginge

words: 0.9k+

warnings: make out sesh.

summary: you and your internet crush film a youtube video for your channel and it ends exactly how you were hoping it would.

notes: hiya babe! Thank you for your request🫶🏼. I didn’t specify where the readers from but they’re just not from the uk💘. I hope you enjoy!!🙂✨ (ps: at the moment I’m trying to post every other day but I’m posting this a day early so I can (all being well) post a george clarkey INside smut on Saturday…🤭)

Last night you flew to London for an event you were invited to, so you decided to shoot your shot and ask your internet crush if he wanted to film a video with you for your channel.

You sent Ginge a message through instagram dms and he replied almost immediately saying that he'd love to, to which you were very pleased.

It took him over four hours to get to your hotel this morning and you offered to pay for his gas, since it was for your video, but -being the gentleman he is- he out right refused so you didn't say another word about it.

When he arrived you were waiting in the lobby for him to park up. "Hi!" You smiled as he gave you a quick hug. "Thank you again for doing this," you added gratefully. "Don't be silly. I'm happy to be here," he replied with a sweet smile.

You took him up to your hotel room and gave him a, very quick, tour. You made small talk while you set up your camera in front of the window, to get the best lighting.

"Okay," you breathed out, "ready?" He nodded and came to sit next to you on the side of the bed. "God, this is so awkward. I hate doing intros in front of people," you admitted, laughing slightly as you adjusted yourself. He chuckled. "Just pretend I'm not here."

"Hey guys! Welcome back to my channel. Today I've got someone who's been highly requested... angry Ginge!" You announced to the camera. "Hello boys- and girls, probably mostly girls," he stumbled. You couldn't help but laugh, clearly he wasn't used to talking to your kind of audience.

"Since I'm not from the uk and don't know the slang I'm going to be guessing the British words and seeing if I can figure out what they mean!" you explained.

"Okay, first word," Morgan began, "knackered." "Knackered? Gosh. Uhm... like... tired?" You guessed. "Exactly that," he replied with a smile. "Really?! That was a total guess."

"Next, chuffed." "That's a weird one. Is it like a feeling?" You asked, trying to narrow it down. "Yeah, you would be 'chuffed' in reaction to something." "Right okay, maybe... disappointed? Like, I'm so chuffed I didn't get the job or something?" He let out a giggle, clearly you were wrong. "It means pleased."

You swiftly moved onto the next word. "Banger," he said. Your brows furrowed and then you straightened up. "I know this one! A sausage right? Bangers and mash." The room filled with Ginge's laugh. "You know what, fair play. It does mean that but mostly it means something's great, for example: that songs a banger." "Oh. I like the sausage one better," you said, slight disappointment evident in your tone.

"Peng." "Peng?" You thought you'd hear him wrong. "Mhm," he confirmed. "I have no idea. Give me a clue?" I asked. "Okay... your peng." Your brows furrowed. "Well, I'm hoping it isn't an insult, ugh- I haven't got a clue. Tell me?" "It means good looking," he replied. "So I'm peng yeah?" You playfully pushed his shoulder to which he turned slightly red.

After you'd been through quite a few words you decided to end the video so you closed it off by telling everyone to check out Morgan and that you'd see them next time.

You had some time before he needed to get home so you decided to go and grab some lunch. "So... how long have you been streaming?" You asked him as you sat in a small cafe, about to take another bite of your food.

He swallowed his mouthful before speaking, "since October twenty-twenty-two. When did you start your channel?" He asked and he seemed genuinely interested. "Around three years ago, just started filming whatever was popular at the time."

When you'd finished having lunch you walked back to your hotel to grab his coat and his little vlog camera that he'd left in your room. "I actually have something to confess," you began as you plonked down at the end of the bed, while he collected his things.

"Oh yeah?" That peeked his attention. "I had a huge crush on you," you told him since you probably weren't going to see him again so... what's the harm? "Had or still do?" He stepped towards you and your heart rate sped up.

You shuffled nervously. "I don't know, maybe I still do..." "that's good to hear." You could tell he was also a little nervous and he clearly didn't want to make you uncomfortable or overstep a boundary.

You stood and approached him, the atmosphere thick with sexual tension. You remained silent for a moment, the only sound being the uneven breaths coming both of your mouths. He cleared his throat. "Can I- uh-" "yes." You leaned in, finally closing the gap between you.

He immediately relaxed when your lips connected, you could feel the tension leaving his body. "I've always wanted to do this," he mumbled between kisses, one of his hands on your cheek while the other sat at the nape of your neck.

You placed both of your hands on his chest while you enjoyed the thing you'd thought about since you met him this morning. When you eventually pulled away you both unexpectedly laughed, for some reason you just couldn't fully take the situation seriously.

When you ultimately said your goodbyes he left you with a kiss on the cheek. You both knew you could never be with one another, since you live on different sides of the world, but life's all about having fun and why shouldn't you make out with your celebrity crush... right?

[howlett-variants]

"I've got you"

a/n: I love Charlie Kenton sm, he deserves more love. Also, I haven't written an X reader fic in like 10 years forgive me.

Prompt: Charlie gets his ass kicked, thankfully he has you to patch him up! Words: 2,975 Tags: gn!reader, post movie, hurt/comfort, Charlie is very dog coded to me and I don't know how to tag things anymore

You could have never guessed your day to go like this. Work had been boring as all hell. The only thing keeping you going was the thought of getting to hang out with those you cared about most over at Tallets Gym. Bailey was basically your closest friend at this point. She was kind and caring but could always match your energy- especially if that energy was being angry with Charlie. Speaking of Charlie, seeing him was always one of the best parts of your day. Even when he was being an idiot, or impulsive, or both- he always knew how to put a smile on your face. Which was much needed after a boring day at work. You even looked forward to seeing Max most days. The kid was the spitting image of his father when it came to personality, which definitely had its downsides. Max was probably the most independent eleven-year-old you’ve ever met- he was always determined to do stuff by himself. Even if he ended up asking you or Bailey for help in the end. Things were never boring with the Kentons. 

Today would be no exception.

Your phone rang mere moments before you were about to park in front of the rundown gym.

“Hel-” You started, but were quickly cut off by the sound of your good friend Bailey in a panic.

“Charlies hurt.” “What?” “Max just called, and he’s freaking out-” You could hear her voice quicken on the other end. 

“Slow down Bail, where are they?” “Some gas station twenty minutes outside of town, they were on their way back from a fight and-” She gave you a few more vague responses, clearly not sure of the situation herself, but that was okay. You could work with that. There weren’t that many gas stations on that side of town, plus it would be hard to miss Charlie’s massive green truck. 

–

Ten minutes, and a few potential road laws broken, later- you finally spotted the truck. You pulled up next to them, attempting to not fully slam on your brakes. Your panic had slowly grown over the last few moments, and panicked driving is not a good idea. 

Tossing the door open in a quick motion, you stepped out and ran over to see Charlie sitting on the tailgate of his truck. Max was next to him, holding a makeshift ice pack to his face. 

“How’s he doing?” You plant your feet in front of them, doing your best to keep your arms at your side to not fret over him. At the sound of your voice, Max looked over with a smile. Charlie attempted to look at you, but winces the moment he tried to open his eyes.

“I’m fine- just a black eye.” Charlie replied weakly, still unable to fully open his eyes. 

“He might need stitches this time.” Max’s smile fades, returning to a worried expression. 

“Let me see.” Max nods before jumping off of the tailgate, making room for you to take his place. You carefully move to sit next to him, close enough for your legs to touch. You reach a hand up to his face, slowly peeling away the ice pack. It took everything in you to not visibly tense at the rather nasty wound on his face. Whoever beat him up this time actually used a weapon, brass knuckles, if you’d have to guess. He had a large gash right next to his eyebrow, reaching almost to his ear, as well as a black eye and numerous other bruises all over his neck. You can only imagine the amount of bruises he was hiding on the skin you couldn’t see. “Yeah…that’s going to scar. Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Don’t have one…” He mumbled.

“Come again?” You can’t help but sigh, “With how much you get beat up-”

He avoids your glare and refuses to respond, which is Charlie for ‘You’re right, but I will not admit it’. With a slight roll of your eye, you reach into your back pocket with your free hand and take out your wallet to hand to Max. “They should have bandages, or at least some cotton balls I can use to stop the bleeding. Grab what you can- if nothing else, your dad can save it for later.”

The kid nodded as he took your wallet before running back into the gas station. It probably wasn’t your smartest idea to just hand your wallet to an eleven-year-old, but you knew Max would at least grab what you asked- even if he came back with a few extra snacks.

Seconds after he left your eye-line, you heard Charlie suck in a sharp breath. The sound caused your full attention to turn back to the man next to you. He was no longer sitting upright, but instead leaning on the side of the truck as if the metal wall was the only thing holding him upright. You were quick to notice the stiffness in his shoulders was far worse than a few seconds ago, and you didn’t have to ask why to know what was going on in his head. 

“Char, the kid just watched you get your ass kicked- again. You don’t have to act all tough. Hell your face is bleeding like some kind of horror movie victim. He knows that you’re not alright.” It broke your heart to see him like this. He was always putting on a front of the big strong unfeeling douchebag, but you knew better. You also knew better than to question it. Max was a strong kid, but he was still just a child. No kid should have to watch this dad getting beat up as much as Charlie did. You moved your hand from his face to his shoulder, using your thumb to rub soothing motions in a small attempt to comfort him. 

“How’d you get here so fast?” He questioned, completely avoiding your concerned comments.

“Max called Bailey. Bailey called me. Here I am.” You moved your free hand up to his face, attempting to inspect the wound a bit more. Fingers lightly holding his chin, making it easier for you to move his head if needed. He couldn’t help but lean into the small touches. “I think I still have some pizza in the car. It’ll be cold by now though.”

He let out a light chuckle, mouth struggling to turn into a smile without pain. “Maybe when my face is done bleedin’ out.”

You smile at him, grateful to hear that his sense of humor was still intact. The moment he winces again, your smile falls. “What the hell happened?”

“Just some assholes that I used to owe money to, what else-” He pouts, “I would have been able to our run em but-”

“Max…”

He didn’t have to even look at you for you to understand what he meant. From what Bailey had told you in the past, getting his ass kicked out of the ring was nothing new for Charlie. He was constantly coming back to the gym with cuts and bruises, and the occasional broken bone, but ever since he regained custody of his son, he’s tried to be a lot more careful. He had always been reckless and almost uncaring when it came to what happened to him, but now he had someone to protect. Thankfully, the Atom fights had helped pay off practically every debt he had ever owed, but there were still some people who had it out for him that couldn’t give less of a shit if his son was watching or not. 

The hand on his face slowly moved to the back of his neck, before you carefully pulled him closer to you. You positioned his head to rest comfortably on your shoulder. Your other arm snaked around his back, holding him in a secure hug. “It’s okay…I’ve got you.”

Your hushed tone was all he needed to melt completely into your hold. His face hid in the crook of your neck, like it was the only thing keeping him in one piece. His arms found their way around you, holding onto the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline. Charlie Kenton was many things. He was a boxer who had seen his fair share of violence, as well as a man who routinely went to shady places for robot fights, but he was also a father who had no idea what he was doing. To him, there was nothing more terrifying than the idea of his son watching him bleed out (and potentially die). Whoever had attacked him this time didn’t hold back. He honestly didn’t know if he was going to make it out in one piece. 

He was in pain and scared shitless, but you were there. You kept him grounded, like you always knew what to do or say to keep his anxieties at bay. You were his rock, and he was yours. The two of you had this unspoken thing that not even Bailey dared to bring up to either of you. You could feel your shoulder becoming damn, from both tears and the blood from his wound- but you didn’t care. The stains would come out, and even if you ended up having to throw the shirt away, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the man quietly sobbing in your arms. 

He would never admit it, but Charlie cried a lot. Never in front of you or anyone else, but you’d always catch him silently crying to himself in the middle of the night. You knew that Bailey and Max were aware, but all three of you knew better than to mention it to him. Anytime that you gathered the nerve to ask him if he was alright in the middle of his crying session, he’d just yell at you to go away. You knew he never meant to actually yell at you. Normally he’d even apologize the next morning with a vague ‘sorry about last night’ while avoiding any actual questions about whatever he had been upset about. But right now, he didn’t care. There was nothing he needed more than you. 

—

Time passed by in a small blur. The only sound you could hear was Charlie’s heavy breathing finally beginning to regulate itself to the sound of your light humming. His arms were still wrapped around you, but the grip on your shirt had loosened. You still had one arm around his back, the other had found its way to his hair- playing with the short brown strands. 

“I got some stuff!” Max’s sudden voice startled you both. You turned your head in his direction to see that his hands were filled with an assortment of bandaid boxes, a bag of cotton balls, and a few snacks that he bought with your money (which you fully expected would happen). Charlie’s body went stiff under your arm at the sound of his son’s voice, embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable state. “This is all they had.”

“Thanks kiddo,” you smiled at him. The arm around Charlie’s middle let go, so you could reach out for the ‘medical’ supplies. He silently mourned the loss of the touch the second you let go. You placed the items next to you before your gaze returned to Max. “Why don’t you sit up front and update Bailey, tell her we’ll be back in a little bit. I’ll get to work patching up your dad’s apparently very punchable face.”

It was a poor attempt at a joke, but Max still smiled. Charlie made a mental note to thank you later for the small attempt at saving what was left of his pride. Thankfully, Max obliged and left to go sit in the front seat, giving you two a bit of privacy.

Using both your hands, you carefully lifted his head off of your shoulder. He made a small noise of disappointment as you pulled him from his safe spot. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. You held his face in between your palms as you examined his face one more time. His eyes were a little swollen from the crying, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The adrenaline must have finally worn off. 

“Okay, I’ll do what I can, but I’m taking you to actually get this checked out first thing in the morning.”

“Fine by me.” his words were beginning to slur together. Something told you that you’d be the one driving the truck back to town tonight. It would be safer to leave your old car than the massive truck holding one of the most popular boxing robots at the moment. 

Your humming continued as you cleaned up the drying blood from his cheek. There was only so much you could do with the limited items (and skill) you had, but you stayed focused. With the bleeding stopped and wiped away, the wound wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. It would still leave a nasty scar, but it was small enough that a trip to an actual medical professional could wait. As you worked, you could feel Charlie’s head become heavy in your hands.

“You falling asleep on me?” You teased lightly.

“mmmno.” It was more of a noise than an actual word. 

“Almost done, big guy. Then you’re welcome to crash on your little cot back there.” Between the warmth of your hands, the soft touches, and your quiet humming as you worked- Charlie was practically melting. Bailey and you liked to joke that he was like a dog sometimes, from the bursts of impulsive energy, to the unapologetic joy over the smallest things, and of course his mastery of the ‘puppy dog eyes’ that he often used on you and Bailey to get what he wanted. He would always scoff or roll his eyes whenever you would tease him or whenever you called him a dog. You couldn’t help it, especially at times like this- with his eyes comfortably closed and melting into your every touch. It was adorable, despite the fact that you were actively cleaning up a wound. 

“Can’t sleep yet-” His body betrayed his words by interrupting his sentence to let out a yawn. “Gotta drive back.”

“Not like this, you’re not. I’ll drive.” Driving the truck wasn’t your favorite, but you have done it before. As long as you didn’t get pulled over, you could drive it home without a problem. “C’mon, let’s get you into bed before you actually pass out on me.”

With a light pat to his cheek, he dutifully allowed you to help him stand. His head immediately seeking your shoulder to lean on again. He was taller than you, but still seemed perfectly comfortable once he found the crook of your neck again. You blamed the blood loss and the crying for how touchy he was being. It’s not that he wasn’t a touchy person. He had a lack of personal space with those he was close to, but this was different. For a second, you questioned if this was even beyond him seeking you out as a source of comfort. 

Ignoring the swirl of worry and emotions you had yet to even fully admit to yourself, in your stomach, you carefully led him over to the cot inside the truck. You gave him a small nudge to sit down. He listened with only a small sound of complaint. The disappointment was short-lived. You could almost see ears perk up the moment you returned to sit by his side. 

“Thanks…for doing all this.” Standing must have woken him a little. His voice was much clearer than it was a few seconds ago. 

“It’s not like I was going to let you bleed out.” You rolled your eyes with a small smile across your lips, as you finished putting the last bandaid on his face. It was a haphazard job, but it would do the trick- at least for a few hours. 

“I know. Glad to have you on my side is all.” Your eyes moved from the collection of bandages to his eyes, feeling a little shocked by the genuine emotion they held. Charlie didn’t have a lot of people to count on. You knew that better than anyone.

“I’m happy to patch you up anytime.” Your hands left the sides of his face where you had been diligently working, moving down to find his hands. He took the hint and intertwined your fingers, giving them a light squeeze. The two of you were bonded, neither wanting to question of risk actually talking about what that bond was. You were waiting for him to say something, and he was in between being far too chicken shit and waiting for you. So many days spent dancing around either other like this. You knew, even now, that neither of you would mention the softness and tenderness from tonight’s interaction. He’d go to sleep as you drove him, and he’d wake up not remembering much of the night in the first place. Still you sat with him, foreheads pressed together, basking in each other’s company. 

“I gotta take you home, Char.” You whispered, not wanting to leave this moment yet. His grip on your hand tightened, but he still allowed you to pull away.  

“Tomorrow, let me take you to dinner.” His voice wasn’t as quiet as yours, but it was even more unsure of itself. Speaking before thinking, as always, but looking deep into your eyes this time. “As…thanks.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the offer. The two of you went out for dinner alone all the time, but something about this felt different. You gave his hand one final squeeze and planted a small kiss on his cheek before standing up. “It’s a date.”

[forsoobado137]

SO Canada got kidnapped by a suburban mom?

Yeah technically. Canada's car broke down. This was before the days of cellphones and shit so he couldn't really call someone to pick him up. Then, this nice middle-aged lady named Barbara offered him a ride. During the drive, she started talking about her life and her kids leaving for college and her dog etc. Canada kinda got to know her and she seemed really kind.

Halfway through the conversation, Canada was like "wait a minute, Barbara's been driving for 30 minutes and this is not my destination." Before he said anything, She offered to buy him some beer when she stopped for gas. While she was in the store, and Canada was all conflicted because on one hand, he wanted to go home. On the other hand, free beer.

Barbara came back with the beer, and Canada checked the can before drinking it. He noticed her pulling up by a small house in a nice neighbourhood. Barbara wanted him to come in and she'd make him some dinner. It was almost midnight and cold as balls outside, so Canada was like "It'd be rude to refuse, eh?"

She made him a delicious casserole, Canada watched a bit of TV, and he fell asleep on the couch. Next morning, he woke up and was like "I should really get going." But then Barbara was like "Oh...but I made you breakfast!" It would be rude to say no, so he ate breakfast (which was also pretty good).

Then, Canada noticed that all the doors were barricaded. But still he's like "I'm already here I can't leave..." Barbara admitted that she wanted him to stay because she hated seeing a young man like him so stressed all the time in his public appearances.

A couple days later, authorities had found Canada's abandoned car. There was this massive search party for him. They suspected terrorists, political enemies, and people who wanted ransom money. While all of this was going on, Canada was just chilling at Barbara's house watching TV and eating mac n' cheese with a foreboding feeling that this situation was really serious. But he just couldn't bring himself to try and leave so impolitely. After all, Barbara was so sweet, and she seemed so lonely.

Then the police found him and there was a bit of a stalemate between them and Barbara before Canada was like "Welp, I think I should head out now before you get in trouble." Barbara relented, but only if he finished his beer and brought some leftover lasagna with him. Canada left, Barbara got arrested, and unfortunately the lasagna got confiscated by authorities.

[vinelark]

i would 100% read a brain/carmichael spin off

you and i are on the same page here, the briarmichael (coined by @feyburner) spinoff that lives in my head has rapidly grown to at least 35k worth of plot so far. some highlights:

brian has cared deeply about carmichael since high school, but isn’t In Love with him until later. like the summer makeout could’ve been the start of something, but when carmichael seemingly freaked about it and ghosted, brian pretty much moved on. he mourned the friendship more than the potential relationship. he was always the only one to really see past carmichael’s bullshit exterior, but brian was also 18 and going to college and not going to fight for carmichael’s attention if he didn’t want to give it.

meanwhile carmichael has been screaming crying throwing up in love with brian since like middle school, which he would admit to no one ever

carmichael now goes by "carm" as a nickname (per @cairoscene)

until they reunite post-college, brian does not know where/why carm left, because they weren't really talking at that point, and also brian is going to rutgers and experiencing living somewhere where they don't do like fear gas drills on campus for the first time. brian finally gets to flourish in his true form (affable bro who gets to flirt with everyone he wants at house parties)

i’m still deciding if brian even knows carm got disowned or if it was like a society secret. like carm’s parents made it sound like he just went off on a rebellious little trip or something. or if it was like, society gossip

also haven't totally nailed down the disinheritance situation but i want to say like. carm was interning at his dad’s company or his dad’s friend’s company and saw an executive do something Bad in a way that was very jarring to carm, who until this point has been willfully ignorant about most real-world things, and carmichael still saw himself as untouchable and used his annoying personality for good for once by making enough of a fuss to his dad about it that his dad was forced to cut ties with the executive to save face, but in the fallout carm was quietly sent away aka disowned. which carm did not expect, but had just enough backbone by then to not come crawling back immediately.

it was like. in carm’s mind. the right thing for him to do but also like he wasn’t even losing everything to be heroic, to save the world even the city. he just refused to shut up. and he ended up here.

he leaves gotham for a bit. i think he ends up working in a low-level mob restaurant in bludhaven for some time. he finds out he likes designing logos for things so he’s been taking cheap classes when he can and doing a bit of freelance work (starting with again a bludhaven mob but like, not like he could choose his clientele. and they paid him with bonus free dinner every shift). graphic design is his passion.

and @tigerjpg sent me an ask about them taking a road trip, and i wrote like 500 words off the cuff in response and then tumblr just. ate it. it disappeared into the void. the ask is back in my inbox like nothing happened. one day i'll re-type it, but for now just know that post-disinheritance carmichael sells his bmw convertible (that + what he could fit were the only things in his name that he still owned) and buys a used subaru that he is unhealthily emotionally attached to.

[caesariawritesstuff]

Can I have a 🌹 with arkhamverse Scarecrow?

With that one prompt you got where he gets lost trying to drive her home after the date and stubbornly refuses to admit it, resulting in a very awkward silence in the car as she navigates.

🥺👉👈 please

Lost

Summary: After a date with Jonathan, he ends up getting lost on your way back to your apartment.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: I hope you enjoy, anon!

The date had gone better than you expected it to.

Admittedly, you were surprised by how well it had gone. A soft smile touched the corners of your mouth as your gaze strayed to the strange, handsome man sitting beside you in the driver’s seat of the car. His eyes were sharp and focused on the road ahead. The night sky was dark, and street lights were bright on every corner in flashing greens, reds, and yellows. Headlights from other drivers driving past reflected back in your eyes. There was a soft mist coming down, a light sprinkle of rain, coating everything in a slightly wet sheen.

You found you couldn’t tear your eyes off of Jonathan Crane, the man you’d ran into randomly one day and found yourself entirely too fascinated with. He’d stared at you with a strange look in his eyes, peering down at you, considering he was quite a bit taller than you. But there had been something about the way he carried himself, and the sound of his voice, that had drawn you in, out of your control. At first, when you asked him to dinner, you’d expected him to say no, to not indulge you, but surprisingly, he’d agreed. Dinner had soon turned to coffee a few blocks away, your belly full of wine, good food, and caffeine. Your half-drunk cup lingered in your hand, still slightly warm against your fingertips.

You smiled, your lips curving upwards even more as you stared at Jonathan. His hands were white-knuckled and tight around the steering wheel. His posture was stiff, his jaw set tight; you were fascinated with him and his position at Blackgate as one of its psychiatrists, which he’d explained in great detail to you at your date. You’d told him all about your career, too, and he’d listened intently, nodding along, engaged greatly in the conversation in a way most men didn’t seem so interested in. But there was something about Jonathan that had you captivated by him, anyways, and now, as he drove you home, you couldn’t help the stirring in your heart.

It wasn’t like you to invite a man you hardly knew into your apartment on the first date, but you couldn’t help yourself. Would it be too soon to invite him inside? you wondered.

Surely, he would probably decline. As engaging as he was at dinner and during coffee, you still couldn’t quite decide if he liked your or not. And besides, this ride so far had been strangely quiet. Turning your attention back to the road, the car came to a slow as he reached a red light at an intersection. But as you looked around, you quickly began to realize that there was one tiny problem: you weren’t even close to your apartment. In fact, you were quite a ways away from it, in an area of town outside of your normal route home.

“Jonathan,” you said, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Do you know where you’re going?”

His gaze slid to you for just a moment. “Of course I do,” he said, his tone oddly self-assured. “We’re almost to your apartment.”

“No, we’re not,” you said, your brows raising now.

He blinked, turning more towards you now. “Of course we are. I remember coming this way to pick you up.”

“You might’ve come this way, but you are certainly far away from my place,” you said.

He paused. Blinked again. Looked back out at the road as his brows furrowed. The light soon turned green, bathing the car in a greenish glow, and he pressed lightly on the gas pedal, driving forward down the shiny wet road.

“Are you lost?” you asked him.

“Me? Lost? Absolutely not,” he said, his chest puffing out, almost with indignance.

You smirked. “It’s okay to admit if you’re lost, you know. I can direct you back to my place and—”

“I am absolutely not lost,” he said, a little firmer this time. “I like to take the scenic route.” As he spoke, he didn’t look at you, keeping his eyes peeled on the road.

“Uh-huh,” you muttered, your smirk growing, heart fluttering in your chest.

He drove a few blocks down, once more the wrong way, before you reached over and gently rested your hand on his knee. He stiffened at your touch, but you said, “Turn right up ahead.”

He said nothing, his eyes only narrowing, but he listened to your instructions and turned right at the next street. After he did, you directed him where to go next, which roads to take and every turn. He remained quiet, almost still as a statue, if not for the occasionally blinking of his eyes. When the light cast over his face, you swore you saw a pink hue crawling along his cheeks. You leaned back in your seat, your heart hammering in your ribcage, as you sucked in a breath, continuing to direct him. The minutes passed as he continued to stay quiet, though he listened to every single one of your instructions.

Well, you thought. He certainly doesn’t like to admit when he’s wrong, now does he?

The awkward silence continued to settle across the car, growing more tense by the minute as your hackles raised, the air suffocating between the two of you. You continued to glance at him, trying to catch his eye, but his gaze only remained sharp and steely, eyes forward. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, but as you neared your apartment, some of your nerves lessened a bit. The large, brown building loomed before you, casting a shadow along the street. Jonathan pulled up to the side and parked the car, his gaze remaining forward.

You sighed. “You know, we would’ve gotten here sooner if you just admitted you were lost.” You shot him a look, smirking, raising your brows at him.

“I told you, I wasn’t lost,” he mumbled, an annoyed sound in his tone. “I was just taking the long way. I quite enjoy sight-seeing Gotham’s architecture.”

“Uh-huh,” you said again, shaking your head.

He finally pulled his gaze to you and cleared his throat. The tension in his shoulders was palpable, radiating off him in waves. You reached over and patted his knee.

“Next time, when you pick me up, don’t get lost,” you said, before winking at him and getting out of the car. You slammed the door shut behind you as you went, a slight sway to your hips as you wandered up the front stairs to your apartment door, smirking.

And you could only hope that next time he’d ask to come inside…because you might just have let him in.