#i actually brushed my hair today and did something with it. I just stick that thing into a fucked up ponytail usually.

[lokiinmediasideblog]

Having to hold back from wearing black lipstick for an interview.

[hiiikiko]

𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙 𝖆𝖘 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖇𝖊

porn with plot??, bully!ellie x reader (kinda rushed lmao my bad y’all)

tw: bully x victim dynamic, sadistic and masochistic notes, cnc (?), exhibitionism, heavy degradation, slight praise and probably a few more lmao idk im not woke enough for this/j

pt. 1 of sweet as can be | tlou m.list

The events that transpired yesterday felt like a hazy dream.. especially now as Ellie slams you into a locker, her eyes fully of anger and disgust with a wolffish grin spreading across her face.

Maybe you were stupid to expect that after what happened yesterday, she’d treat you better… maybe even start dating you.. but those daydreams are quickly wiped from your mind as she picks you up by the collar of your shirt and slams again, the locker letting out a rattle into the now empty hallway.

“God, you’re pathetic,” she rasps out, “You think just because we fucked that I give a shit about you?” her lips brush against a mark she left on your neck, “You that desperate for human connection?”

You hang your head in shame and shake your head, words of protest not being able to leave your glossed lips. You feel so dumb, you actually dressed up more than usual today, wearing a shorter skirt, a cute sweater, hair curled to perfection and swiping a pretty sparkly pink gloss along your lips.

Ellie laughs cruelly, “Aw, you gonna cry?” She lowers her head so that she can look up into your teary eyes, her scarred hand reaching up to brush your hair out of your face, “Come on then, cry for me.”

You sniffle and weakly try to push her away.

Ellie begins to say something again but is interrupted by the sound of heels coming down the hall, she groans and rolls her eyes, pulling you along by your shirt collar and into the girls locker room.

“What are you doin—?”

Ellie clasps a hand over your mouth, “God, do you ever shut the fuck up? I’m not done with you yet,” she scoffs and looks towards the door for any sign that a teacher might enter.

‘Not done with me yet? The heck does that mean..’ you think to yourself.. millions of possibilities come to mind, maybe she’ll fuck you like last time or maybe she’ll push you into the showers again… you’re not exactly sure which you would prefer at this point.

Ellie furrows her brows as she lowers her gaze to you, you’re obviously lost in thought, she can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at the way you unknowingly bite your lip, a habit of yours that she’s noticed. Before Ellie can stop herself, she brings her hand to your lip and grazes her thumb over it, causing you to snap out of your thoughts.

Your eyes widen at the weirdly gentle caress and your brows furrow in confusion.

“You were doing that annoying thing with your lips,” Ellie manages to scoff out, pushing your head away from her hand.

You let out a whine as she pushes you again.

She laughs hoarsely at your whine, “What did you like the way I touched you?”

“W-What?! O-Of course not!” you stutter out and back up against a bathroom stall.

“You’re a pretty shitty liar,” she takes a step closer and grabs your chin, “That whine you let out sounded pretty disappointed, huh?”

Her grip on your chin is sure to leave bruises, “I-I’m not disappointed!”

She rolls her eyes and before you could snap back at her, she sticks her fingers into your mouth, “Finally found a good use for your mouth,” she laughs.

Your eyes narrow with anger but as much as you’d like to bite her hand, you know better, Ellie is way stronger than you.

“You’re not even fighting back,” she grins and shoves her fingers deeper into your mouth, causing you to gag a bit, tears once again pricking your eyes and causing your mascara to run, “Ha, I bet you like this.”

You cry and do your best to shake your head without her fingers leaving your lips.

“Aw, crying again? I’ve barely even started,” she laughs and pulls her fingers out of your mouth, she grabs your chin and forces you to look up into her pretty emerald eyes, “God, you’re such a mess,” her lips curl into a smirk.

You can’t find it within you to say anything back.

“Come on, that’s all you got? You’re even weaker than I thought,” she giggles cruelly.

“Just leave me alone,” you whimper pathetically.

Ellie rolls her eyes again, “Come on, you know I can’t do that, you’re too much fun.”

“Why not!” you practically yell.

Her eyes dart to the door and she slaps a hand over your mouth again, “Hey, hey, be quiet.”

The two of you go white with fear as you hear the clacking of hills get closer.

Ellie groans quietly and pulls you into the bathroom stall, lowering her voice to a whisper she says, “Now look what you did,” she shoots you a mean glare, one that almost makes your knees buckle.

“I-I’m sorry!” you whisper yell.

“Yeah? I’ll show you how sorry you’ll be,” she pushes you up against the stall door and flips your skirt up, revealing your embarrassingly cute panties. pink panties with little strawberries on them and a bow in the front, “These are cute,” she mutters softly and parts your legs with her foot.

Your face flushes a deep red, “H-Hey, knock it off, what if someone hears!” you whine quietly.

“Just be quiet and nobody’ll find us,” she says in an annoyed manner, though you can’t see it, a small smile dances on her pretty lips, part of her secretly happy that you didn’t tell her to stop or to get off you.

You open your mouth to say something but you’re interrupted by the feeling of her calloused fingers plunging into your sopping wet cunt, “I knew you liked this,” she whispers into your ear, her chest pressed firmly against your back as she moves her fingers in and out.

“I-I don’t,” you whimper a little too loudly, “You—.”

“Shut up,” she growls into your ear quietly and shoves two fingers back into your mouth, the sound of the locker room door opening and the sound of heels clacking through the dimly lit room.

“Hello, anyone in here?”

Ellie’s wolffish grin spreads over her face again as she speeds her fingers up, curling them to brush against that sweet sensitive spot within you. Your whines are choked against her fingers, tears streaming down your face from the utter humiliation at the thought of being caught. You couldn’t risk it, you were a model student, a ‘nerd’ as Ellie liked to call you.. you had straight A’s, a clean record, and all the teacher’s looked at you with adoration… the thought of being caught in this type of position with your bully’s fingers plunged deep inside your embarrassingly wet cunt.. it honestly made you a little bit more horny.

Ellie lets out a deep chuckle, “Fuck, you’re clenching around me. You like the idea of being caught, hm? The teacher’s pet likes the idea of being caught taken advantage of by her big, scary bully? Fucking perv.”

Another muffled whine escapes your lips and tears stream down your cheeks.

“I always knew you were too fucking perfect, too sweet.. guess you are a perv, huh?” she moves her lips along your neck, “first you let me fuck you, pin you down on my bed and ram my strap into that pretty hole and now you’re letting me finger you at school? Am I that much of a bad influence on you?”

You can’t help but clench around her long fingers as she recalls yesterday’s events.

She pulls her fingers out from your mouth and wraps the still wet fingers around your neck.

“Go on, let those pretty cries out, you want them to hear how good I fuck you, right?” you can feel her gaze on the back of your head as she bends you over and pushes your chest against the bathroom stall.

“N-No,” you try to stay quiet but ultimately fail, that little ‘no’ of yours, bounces off the walls and into the ears of the teacher across the room.

“I can hear you,” the teacher sighs, “Come on out, I don’t got time for this.”

Your eyes are blown wide with fear but Ellie just laughs against your ear, “You hear her? Come on, don’t act like you don’t like it, you’re practically sucking my fingers in.”

You shake your head and clasp a hand over your mouth.

Ellie scoffs in annoyance and grabs your hand, pinning it behind your back, “Nah, don’t do that,” she chuckles.

You try your best to be quiet, little whimpers slipping past your lips as Ellie’s fingers speed up and slam into you, your eyes squeezed shut as you pray to any god that’ll answer your prayers to not let the two of you get caught.

“Stop tensing up, it’s making it hard to move,” she chuckles against your ear, her hands still moving at that unbearingly harsh speed, “Don’t know why you’re so scared, all you gotta do is keep that pretty mouth shut,” she says in a condescendingly concerned tone, the smirk on her lips betraying it.

“F-Fuck y-you,” you try to whisper but your words come out in choppy whimpers, a result of her adding another finger.

“These damn kids,” the teacher grumbled, her heels clacking closer.

For a moment, you can see an expression of worry and uncertainty flicker over Ellie’s gentle facial features, the scar on her brow becoming more prominent as she furrows them, “Shut up,” she covers your mouth and stops moving her fingers, a small wave of disappointment washes over you.

Ellie listens closely until the heels clack away and the door to the locker room clicks shut, still she waits a few more minutes to make sure that the teacher really is gone.

She dryly laughs, “You almost got us caught there.”

Her fingers speed up again, her free hand running down your stomach to rub your aching clit. The sensation of her rough fingers rubbing slow circles causes your brain to short circuit, the only thing on your mind now is the girl ramming her fingers into your greedy hole and whispering dirty words against your neck.

Before you know it, you’re unraveling around her fingers, her fingers don’t stop moving as you ride out your orgasm, if anything, they speed up again. She bites back a soft moan at the way you tighten up around her fingers, the sight of you beneath her once again sends a wave of desire through her already lust filled body.

“Good girl,” she mutters against your neck, “See, that wasn’t so bad was it? I knew you’d like it, perv.”

[svsss-brainrot-blog]

Luo Binghe and Shen yuan interaction where Luo Binghe can read Shen Yuans thoughts.

It comes with the dusk, after a long day handling strange flowers for trade, when Shizun deigns to allow his humble and devoted husband to bathe him, and run the teeth of his ivory comb through long, dark tresses.

“Ah, Luo Binghe,” echoes in the back of his mind, like a sacred whisper, something warm flowing within it. “You are far too good to this old man.”

His hands still for a moment, halfway through a stroke of devotion. With a curious hum, Shizun’s eyes open, catching his in the mirror, and a trace of confusion slinks through that place behind his own thoughts.

“Binghe? Is something wrong?” His eyes search over him in that way they always have, but there is nothing to see when his mind is where the curiosity lays.

The thing is, Luo Binghe is not unused to having another’s thoughts in his mind. But he has never had Shizun’s. Even more so, it seems his revered master and husband has no idea that he’s doing it. Perhaps one of the Tethered Thought Lilies from earlier had managed to cling some of its pollen to the demon’s sleeve without notice. A careless mistake, he ought to know better. He’ll have to scour the room to make sure he didn’t track anything else in by accident.

“Nothing is wrong, Shizun,” Luo Binghe assured him, resuming the task at hand. The lilies were not very potent, and with the level of cultivation he and his husband possessed, they could not garner an effect for more than a few incense sticks’ worth of time, if that. “This humble disciple was only admiring the beautiful view.”

Right on cue, a fetching trace of pink races to color the fine, soft pale skin of Shen Qingqiu’s face.

“I swear he’s trying to get me to explode some days! What shameless words! How much more must I be expected to endure before he makes his move?”

“Shizun must know,” Luo Binghe continues, setting down the comb in favor of nosing along his husband’s neck. “That he is the best sight this unworthy one could ever see, in any lifetime.”

“This is it,” come Shen Qingqiu’s thoughts, trilling with something like anticipation. “The part where he kisses me and whisks me away...”

Luo Binghe smiled, and, just to be contrary, pulled back to pick up the comb once more.

“Huh? He didn’t…?”

Luo Binghe twisted the long, luxurious hair into a simple braid. “May this lowly one accompany Shizun to rest?”

“What. The. Hell.” His Shizun’s voice nipped at his mind, filled with a buzz that the demon lord could only identify as the beginnings of irritation. “Where the fuck is my kiss, Luo Binghe?! All that talk all day of love and devotion and you aren’t even going to kiss your one and only fucking husband goodnight?! What was all that buildup today for if you were going to back off at the last moment?!”

“If it pleases Binghe, this master will permit it,” is what his husband actually says with grace and elegance, but Luo Binghe is struck dumb for a moment by the sheer intensity and vulgarity that just swept through his mind. Something sharp and unpleasant digs into his consciousness where he can feel their short, unplanned bond.

With a smooth motion, Shen Qingqiu stands from the vanity and slips away, and as soon as his hair leaves Luo Binghe’s hands, the thread that binds them snaps.

“Shizun wait,” the demon calls, quickly moving to hold the other around the waist, nearly melting as the feeling of connection returns.

“Stupid.” Shizun’s voice cuts through at the first brush, cold and cruel. “What idiotic thing was I thinking? He had his fill just this morning, he would not care enough for it again so soon. And why should I care? Not every word is meant to ply my willingness. Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

And then, a thought so quiet, it barely registers under all the other cacophony. “Did I do something to displease him? Is that why?”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe calls, once more burrowing into his neck. Guilt cut thick through his heart, making the scar on his chest ache. Shizun would fret, and undo all the effort Luo Binghe had put into his relaxing bath, but he could not bear to let his most beloved think he was unwanted. “…Shizun could never displease this lowly demon.”

“What.” Shen Qingqiu’s thoughts echo his words.

“Forgive me, Shizun,” Luo Binghe asks, tightening his hold. “It seems this unfilial one had some pollen left on his sleeves from the Tethered Thought Lilies. I should not have pried.”

“FUCK,” his inner thoughts declare as he abruptly pulls away.

“Luo Binghe!” his master chastises with a scandalized expression. “You-!”

“Shizun’s thoughts are so straightforward,” Luo Binghe says, bowing his head. “And this one did not think the short duration would be of consequence. But this Luo Binghe was wrong.” Still, he reached out, pulling the other close once again. “But this one did not mean to upset his husband, whom he loves dearly and longs for with great affection.”

With as much repentance as he could muster, Luo Binghe laid a chaste kiss at the corner of his husband’s lips. The immortal master simply stared at him for several long moments, tumultuous emotions flittering through the back of Luo Binghe’s mind faster than he could decipher.

“Take me to bed if you’re truly so sorry, you foolish thing.”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe purred, lifting the other easily into his arms for a proper kiss as he carried them to their chambers. “I love you.”

“Fool,” Shizun sighed, acting put upon even as a trill of pleased satisfaction rumbled through Luo Binghe’s thoughts.

“I love you too.”

[bloodibambiidoll]

Pour Some Sugar On Me

(Older!Alpha Eddie x Omega!Reader)

Summary: It’s been four months since you’ve been mated to Eddie in secret. When he takes you to “Lovers Lake” for a picnic and tells you he’s never hooked up there, it’s only right that you remedy that. WK: 1.8K

Warnings: General Omegaverse behaviors, scenting, knotting, biting, unprotected sex, outside sex, pet names, a whole lotta gushy mushy fluff. No physical descriptions of reader besides her outfit but she does have the nickname “sugar” 18+MNDI!

A/N: SURPISEEE SHAWTY!! I know it’s been a minute since I posted a ST fic but I randomly got the spark to write this today! This is set in the middle of Everlasting Sweeheart before Sugar’s dad finds out about them. Older!Eddie edit is by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple.

You’ve been seeing Eddie in secret for about four months now and it couldn’t be more perfect. Aside from the fact that it was a secret. It was hard, having to hide your mate from everyone in your life. The only person you’ve told is your childhood best friend but she lives states away. A few of your employees asked about your mark and you brushed them off, not wanting to go into details. You haven’t seen your dad since that day at the shop, the day you realized that Eddie worked for him. You missed him, and you hate sneaking around behind his back. Even though it was your idea to wait, you were ready to tell him. But your mate? He wasn’t quite there yet. So you decided not to push him for now and to just enjoy your little bubble.

Today Eddie has something “special” planned for the two of you but refuses to tell you where you’re going. He does this with every date, plans something elaborate or something as simple as a movie night at home. But it was always romantic. He put a lot of thought into these dates and it made sneaking around infinitely easier on you. On those days, it feels everything and everyone but you and Eddie cease to exist.

“Alright sugar pie, you ready?” Eddie yells down the hall, you made him leave the room so you could get ready because you had a little surprise of your own. He didn’t tell you where you were going, but he at least told you that you were riding on his bike and not in one of his cars. So you’d know what to wear. And it just so happened you had the perfect outfit.

Thus far he's only seen your softer side, your little mini dresses and Mary Jane’s with ribbons tied in your hair. Which was great for when you worked at the bakery, comfy shoes, easy movement, kept your hair out of your face. But there’s a whole other side to you he has yet to discover. You were raised by a biker, after all. You look at yourself in the mirror and smirk. You had even styled your hair differently and your make up was darker than your everyday look. Eddie was going to shit.

“Yeah baby, I’m ready.” You exit the room and Eddie’s jaw literally drops and his keys that were dangling from his fingers fall to the ground.

“Sugar… you look…” his eyes roam your figure, drinking in every inch, every detail. The glossy leather of your thigh high platform boots. The little black ripped jean shorts. The tiny little white tank top. And last but not least? You’re wearing a fucking leather battle jacket. “Wow. You look so fucking sexy. Did you get new clothes?”

“Nah. This is stuff I’ve had forever. I actually started this jacket back in highschool and have gradually added to or changed it. I feel like you’re forgetting who my dad is, Eddie bear. Have you ever looked in my closet? There’s more to me than you think.” You approach him, running your cherry red fingernail along his jaw, causing him to shiver under your touch.

“You’re telling me my little sugar girl has a bad ass rocker side I don’t even know about?” He grips your hips in his large ringed hands, pulling your body taunt against his.

“Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out.” You pull back, shooting him a wink. “You ready to go or are you gonna stand here and ogle me all night?”

“Oh baby, I’m gonna ogle you alright… but, I’m ready to go.” He gives your butt a little pat before leaning down to pick up his keys. “Come on, get your sexy ass out the door.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going. You don’t have to be pushy.” You tease, giggling as you connect his lips to yours.

Eddie drove his bike to the edge of town, turning down a dirt road and stopping when he reached the lake he apparently nicknamed “lovers lake”. He had a whole picnic packed tightly in the seat compartment of his motorcycle with all your favorite foods and treats. He even brought little candles and wine.

“This is nice Eddie, it’s really pretty here.” Your head is resting on his shoulder and you smile up at him sweetly.

“Yeah? I’m glad baby. Used to come out here in highschool in my van. Open up the back and just smoke and think, enjoy the silence. Figured it would be nice.” He smooths a hand over your hair before cupping your cheek, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

“All by yourself? You didn’t bring any girls out here? That’s why they call it lovers lake, right?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him playfully.

“Ha! No, definitely didn’t bring any girls out here. Teenage Eddie wasn’t very popular with the ladies.”

“Hmm… that’s too bad, seems like a nice place to get your guts rearranged by a hot metal head, if you ask me.” You rest a hand on his chest, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

That’s how you ended up where you are now, bent over Eddie’s bike, your shorts discarded on the ground somewhere, panties pushed to the side and his tongue buried as deep inside you as possible. He insisted you keep the boots and the jacket on because it was “really doing it for him”.

“Fuck baby, you always taste so sweet.” Eddie mumbles against your core, the vibrations causing you to moan out. His skilled tongue pushes you closer to the edge with each passing second. He leans down to take your clit between his lips as his thick digits circle your entrance. He starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right so they brush against your sweet spot with each stroke. It has you seeing stars, your pussy clenching so tightly around his fingers he feels like they’re going to get pushed out.

“Oh my god! Fuck, Eddie! Feels so fucking good, you always make me cum so good. Want your cock.”

“Don’t worry sugar, I’m not fucking done with you yet.” You hear the sound of his belt, followed by his zipper. He pushes his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free, taking it in his hand and running it through your slick folds. “How bad do you want it?”

“So bad alpha, want your knot.” You whimper as you push back against him. He pushes into you in one breath taking thrust.

“Ah fuck, you’re always so god damn tight.” Eddie pushes his hips flush against yours, his tip brushing against your sweet spot. His hands grip onto your ass, the cool night air making his rings cold against your skin. He squeezes the flesh of your cheeks while he starts to rock into you slow and deep, teasing you.

“Eddie, faster, please, go faster.” You bounce back against him, your ass jiggling deliciously in his tattooed hands.

“Yeah? My pretty girl wants it faster?” He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back inside you, the sound of his hips clapping against your ass echoing through the trees. He starts to fuck into you hard and fast, your upper half resting against the plush bike seat and the tips of your boot clad feet are the only thing touching the ground.

“Mmm alpha, I need your cum. Need your knot. You make me feel so fucking full.”

Eddie leans forward, his chest pressing against your back, making his cock thrust even deeper inside you. One of his hands snakes around you to rub your clit while he brings his lips to your neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses along the expanse of your throat. He shoves his nose into your scent gland and inhales, your sugary sweet scent sending his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“You smell so fucking good omega. My omega. My sweet girl.” He nips at the skin of your neck before biting down, latching his teeth to your skin. It’s all too much. It all feels too good. The speed of the circles on your clit increases and that’s all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge.

“Ohmygod! Eddieeee, mmm fuck.” He fucks you through it before leaning up off of you to chase his own high.

“This pussy’s so fucking good. Tastes so sweet. Sucks me in so good. So tight. Fucking made for me.” His eyes don’t know where to settle, his thick cock disappearing into your creamy walls over and over again. The way your back is curved from how you’re bent over his bike. The way those fucking boots hug the top of your thighs.

“Give your cum alpha, fuck a pup into me.”

“Oh god.” His hips slap hard against yours a few more times before he’s pushing them flush against your ass, filling you with ropes of his cum. His knot starts to swell inside you and he goes to pull out so you aren’t stuck in this awkward position until it goes down but you just hook your leg around his, keeping him in place.

“No, I want your knot, Eddie. I’ll stay like this all night just to have it.”

“Jesus Christ.” You let out a little whimper that turns into a loud moan as his knot pops inside you. The feeling sending you into another mind blowing orgasm. Eddie leans his chest down against you again so he can leave loving little pecks against your cheek and rub his nose against your throat.

“That was so fucking hot.” You giggle, reaching behind you to tangle your fingers in his hair.

“Yeah, it was, but now we’re stuck like this. So I’m gonna need you to stop laughing or we are going to be stuck here all night.” Eddie chuckles as he leans into your touch.

“Just fall back on your ass, it’ll be fine.”

He leans up, gripping your hips as he lets his ass fall back onto the ground. He lands with you on top of his lap with a gentle thud.

“Guess this isn’t so bad.” Eddie cups your cheek, turning your head to the side so he can connect your lips in a passionate kiss. No matter how many times he kisses you like this you think it’ll still make a bomb filled with butterflies go off in your stomach.

“So… how was your first lovers lake hookup?”

“World altering. Wouldn’t have wanted it to be with anyone else. I love you, sugar.”

“I love you too Eddie, so much.” You giggle fondly, taking his face in your hand.

“You’ve seriously gotta stop with that cute ass giggling or I’m just gonna have to fuck you again.”

“Maybe that’s what I want?” You raise a challenging eyebrow at him, a smirk spread across your lips.

“Ohhh you’re in for it now.” He grabs your hips, manhandling you onto your hands and knees with his knot still inside you. “I can stay here all night.”

Taglist: @eddiesxangel @bimbobaggins69 @fairymunson @artistwhodoesntpost @witchyhippysstuff @djoseph-quinn @freak-of-hawkins

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.

and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.

✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)

✦ featuring: alhaitham.

✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.

✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)

he didn’t know that it was your last day together. 

he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.

he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.

he didn’t think he’d lose you like this. 

he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow. 

“please, please,”  he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.” 

the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.

“wake up, please,”  he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—”  his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain. 

desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray. 

please, please tell me it’ll be okay. 

please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time. 

please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.  

“— just wake up, beloved.” 

by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere. 

no. no. this can’t be happening.

he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.

“alhaitham—” 

his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?  

“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.” 

those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.

i love you. 

he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.

until he can’t smell camphor anymore.

—

every person has their curiosities. 

they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.

for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.

after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?

alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things. 

number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person. 

he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.

and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away. 

you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.

you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.

‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”

alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.

and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’ 

“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.” 

“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”

“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”

those five more minutes were never five minutes long. 

but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.

—

alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play. 

“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,

i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!

oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,

wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”

you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.

loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.

but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones. 

a wish that you’d come back, somehow. 

he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did.  but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you. 

a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.

 he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.

“alhaitham, it's time to go.”  kaveh calls his name softly.

 alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,”  he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.” 

✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?

that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this

when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.

thanks for reading.

[spiderfunkz]

heyy could you do a peter parker blurb based on him asking you out on the last day of school? i love ur writing btw

✧ LOVE ON A LAST DAY.

summary : someone has a pretty crush on you!

word count : 0,7k

contains : fluff, fem!reader, super cutesy stuff.

a/n : next month i'll be graduating so this prompt is actually perfect omg omg, thank u for requesting anon i hope u like this !!! 🤭 i used the word 'smile' so much in this i apologize

"hey, peter!"

you waved cheerfully,

it was the last day of school. the final bell just rang and everyone is running out of the building yelling, cheering, crying, and smiling. papers were scattered, pens fell out of backpacks, shirts were signed, and flowers were exchanged.

you were going to hangout with your friends but that's when you spot peter at the end of the hall. hair messy, backpack full, his hands were in his pocket, he looked very nervous.

but you weren't going to leave him alone like that, it's been a while since you two have catched up.

you have been friends since middle-school, but as friends do, they drift apart, though you've never lost that spark with peter. you loved his company & he loved yours.

"hi!" peter waved.

you catch up to him, "hey, i didn't see you anywhere today! you haven't gotten a chance to sign my jacket yet. here," you pass a marker.

"i saved you a spot to sign." he nods, signing it.

you smile, "aw, this looks perfect."

he smiles too, he seems to be very smiley every time he's around you.

sometimes he forgets that you can see how much he smiles when he's near you, or how you can see that he's clearly staring at you.

"what? do i have something on my face?" you rub your cheek,

"oh, no. no you don't, sorry."

"you sure?"

he nods.

"you're weirdly quiet. you okay? i'm still going to the same college as you if that's what you're worrying about," you giggle.

peter has always loved how easy you are to talk to. in a way that there's never awkward pauses between conversations, and how your smile makes everything feel so calm and nice.

"i know. i just, uh-" he fiddles with something in his pocket, "there's something i wanna say, if that's okay."

"yeah, why wouldn't it not be okay?"

he shakes his head, smiling.

he passes you a picture from his pocket along with a small flower he picked.

you take it, your hand softly brushing his hand for a second.

it was a picture he took 2 months ago. you remember the day very well.

it was hot, awfully hot for new york. there were no clouds, the skies were clear and everybody was talking about it. how eager they are to take a walk and how excited they are to enjoy time outside.

though you and peter wanted nothing more but to stay inside, but this doesn't happen everyday. so why not try your best to enjoy it?

you were at the park and just finished your 2nd cup of lemonade (it was peter's), peter brought his camera for memories. your hair kept sticking to your face and it didn't help that you were smiling a ton so it got in your lipgloss as well.

suddenly wind came and flew past you. the air felt cool for a second and your hair went all over your face, you still smiled though.

peter saw and took a picture immediately, the sun perfectly leaving a glow on your hair, also giving your lips a nice glow.

"did you just take a picture?" he quickly shook his head, "yes you did! let me see!" — "no! i know you're just gonna delete it."

you finally saw the picture. at the bottom you can see a handwritten note on it. a beautiful day with the most beautiful girl!

"peter, this is so cute. you- you took this?" you asked, he nods shyly.

you couldn't hide the fact that your face grew red. "i was wondering... if maybe the most beautiful girl in the world would like to maybe.. like to.. go out with me sometimes..?"

peter said, whispering the last few words, looking down at his shoes, the doodled converses you once drew on.

you smile, "i'd love to."

he looks up, shocked. "really?"

"yeah! i mean all of this coming from the most prettiest, talented, caring boy in the world? how could i say no?" you smile, teasingly.

peter smiles.

he thinks for a second before taking the small flower from your hands and tucking it behind your ear, "pretty." he says, stated actually.

"so are you going to walk me home now, most beautiful boy in the world?" you ask. he nods almost immediately, "absolutely, most perfect girl in the world."

you walk outside the building, your hand holding his.

"just so you know i'm gonna draw a big red heart around your signature on my jacket."

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part seven)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)

Eddie takes back everything he’d thought before; sex dreams are so much worse actually, especially when you wake up to the subject of them holding your hand. His face turns bright red the second his eyes open and land on Steve. He sits upright immediately, bunching up the blankets over his lap. 

The pounding of his heart - aka the rapid beeping of the heart monitor - alerts Steve who snaps awake instantly and tightens his grip on Eddie’s hand as he asks with urgent concern, “Are you alright? Did you have another nightmare?”

“No, no, definitely not a nightmare.” Eddie’s cheeks burn, feels the flush reach his ears and down his neck too. He clears his throat. “Just, uh- just a weird dream, that’s all. Not bad, just…weird, yeah. I’m fine.”

Steve relaxes. “Okay.” He hesitates, then adds hopefully, “Was it, uh- Do you think it was a memory?” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Definitely not.” 

“What makes you so sure?” Steve asks. 

“It was fantasy.” Eddie’s eyes rake over Steve, and he tries not to wonder just how accurate his dream was. 

Steve raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Fantasy?” 

“Yeah, fantasy. So unless you have some truly awesome news to give me about the existence of dragons,” Eddie lies (better to have Steve think he’d dreamt of riding on a dragon rather than that he’d dreamt of Steve riding him), “I’m pretty sure it was just a regular old dream.”

“Oh.” Steve's face falls; and Eddie almost wants to take it all back and tell a different lie, that it had been a memory, but he doesn't. “Yeah, no, I've yet to run into any dragons yet, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, running his thumb over Steve's hand. “I wish it was a memory. I mean- I wish I had more memories, and I'm sorry that I don't. I'm sorry that makes you so sad.” 

The apology only makes Steve look sadder. “Oh, Eddie, no, it's okay.” He shakes his head, squeezes Eddie's hand. “Don't apologize for that. It's not like you chose to forget.”

“I know. I’m still sorry though,” Eddie responds quietly. His dream-sparked lust has since curbed into something softer, inevitably. He looks into those downturned and devastating brown puppy dog eyes. “I didn't choose to forget, but I’m still the reason you're sad - I know that, so I'm sorry.” 

It's Steve this time who mutters “You don't have to worry about me so much, Eds, I'm alright,” and it's Steve this time who clasps Eddie’s hand in both of his and brushes a kiss over his knuckles. 

It sends a rush through Eddie's whole body to feel Steve's lips against his skin - in real life, that is. Heat rises in his cheeks again, heart rate kicking up for the millionth time. “Uh- yeah, uh, o-okay,” he stutters, can’t seem to form a coherent thought or sentence right now. He pulls his hand away and runs his fingers through his hair instead, changing the subject, “Um. Are you, uh- are you sticking around today?” 

“Yeah.” Though there’s still a trace of sadness behind his eyes, there’s something like flirtation there too as Steve smirks and says, “I’m all yours today.” 

God. Eddie really is done for, isn’t he.

It’s no wonder, then, that after spending another full day with Steve, another full day of being subjected to Steve’s bittersweet smiles and friendly banter and (that is, if Eddie’s not just being delusional, which is a very real and probable possibility) the occasional flirty comment, Eddie’s dreams soon turn sappy again:

They were sitting in some restaurant, in a corner booth, holding hands behind a propped up menu. Steve was looking gorgeous in a tastefully tight polo and perfectly styled hair streaked with gold, and he looked at Eddie with that warm little smile that always made his heart glow. It overflowed; Eddie almost couldn't take it. 

He said, “I know you said you wanted to do things right, so after how many dates can I ask you to be my boyfriend?” 

Steve's smile grew, eyes wide with a sort of wonder and disbelief and anticipation that was vaguely reminiscent of a child on christmas morning. “I, uh- I think the third date is just fine.” 

“Okay, good.” Eddie grinned. He caught Steve's other hand and held it right there out in the open without a care who saw or heard. “Because I like you so so much; you’re the best person I know, Stevie, and I wanna lock this down before someone else comes along and snatches you up. I want to be your boyfriend more than anything, and I want you to be mine, if you want that too. So, what do you say?” 

Steve must not’ve cared who saw or heard either because he immediately lunged across the table to kiss him, holding Eddie's hands tight as he pressed their lips together fervently. 

Eddie certainly wasn't about to complain. He indulged the kiss for a good long few moments before he pulled back to double check, “So that was a yes, right?” 

“Yeah, dumbass,” Steve laughed, fond and bright and beautiful. “That was absolutely a yes.” 

That ache is back when Eddie wakes up, the wanting, the wishing. 

He thinks this dream falls somewhere in between the events of the last two, like his brain is turning this fantasy into a whole connected narrative now, building and fleshing out this wishful story of him and Steve. Unless… No. Eddie can't let himself think like that. If these dreams have been memories, if that had really been the type of relationship they'd had, surely Steve would've said something. It's not unusual for Eddie's daydreams to become so involved and become entire worlds. This is, as he tells himself for the third time now, just another case of his overactive imagination. 

Steve doesn't ask about his dreams again, and he soon leaves for work and isn't around much that day, but that still doesn't stop Eddie's mind from continuing the fiction when he falls asleep holding Steve's hand, as always now, that night: 

Eddie sat on Steve's couch, his arm slung casually around Steve's shoulders as Steve leaned against him and idly played with the rings on Eddie's other hand while a movie played on the TV in front of them. It was Steve's turn to pick the movie, and there was a time when Eddie would've rolled his eyes and scoffed at the suggestion of watching The Breakfast Club, but it had just come out on VHS and Steve was so excited about it and Eddie was more than happy now to sit just there and watch Steve watch it. Because Steve was smiling and humming along to the songs on the soundtrack, and Eddie felt, suddenly, with such simple certainty that this is where he was meant to be, that this is who he was going to spend the rest of his life with. 

Something must've changed in his expression, in his stare, because Steve soon rolled his head to the side to look at Eddie and asked with an amused (and vaguely confused) smile, “What?” 

“Nothing, I just-” Eddie shook his head, pressed a kiss to Steve's temple and then said like it was the easiest thing in the world, “I think I've fallen in love with you.” 

Steve laughed as if this great big relief just bubbled free from his chest. “Oh thank god,” he said. “I’m in love with you too.” 

Eddie believed him, knew it with the same certainty as before. They shared gentle smiles and a sweet, chaste kiss. Steve slipped an arm around Eddie's waist and curled closer against his side. He went right back to watching the movie and Eddie went right back to watching Steve. And that was all there was to it. 

Clear, effortless, uncomplicated. Because how could they be anything else but in love with each other? 

~ 

Eddie sighs when he blinks awake. His eyes slowly shift to the side and he looks at Steve strangely for a few silent moments. 

Steve asks, “What?” 

Eddie's cheeks tinge pink, and Steve wonders, not for the first time, what Eddie had been dreaming about. He gets a devastating sense of deja vu when Eddie shakes his head and says, “Nothing.” But it stops there where Steve's memory doesn't. 

Although, Eddie is still considering him in that weird, just short of familiar way, and Steve wonders - again, not for the first time - if maybe Eddie just might remember too. But surely he'd say something if he did. 

Eddie taps his fingers against Steve's hand and asks after a long minute. “Are you gonna be around tomorrow?”

“I can be.” Steve is scheduled to work tomorrow, but he'd call out sick in an instant if Eddie asked him to.

“Okay, because, uh, that's when the doctor’s gonna have me try to walk and when they're gonna teach me and Wayne how to take care of my wounds at home for when I’m discharged, and I, um, I want you to be there for that too,” Eddie says. 

Steve finds himself a little surprised by this. “You really want me there?” 

“Yeah, I mean, If you don't mind,” Eddie starts, rambling like he's suddenly scared Steve might refuse, “I know it's not the most fun thing to be here for, but I just figured whatever the doctor tells us tomorrow you should know too, just in case, you know, like I might need you one day and Wayne can't be around all the time and-” 

“I’ll be there, Eddie,” Steve assures him, squeezing his hand. “Of course I’ll be there.”

And so he is. He calls out of work the next day, much to Keith’s annoyance, and stands there as the room fills with doctors and nurses and Eddie's uncle Wayne. 

Eddie's mobility is tested first. He makes a soft grunt of pain as he's instructed to swing his legs over the side of the bed, and then another when the doctor taps his knee and his injured leg kicks with the assessment of his reflexes. Satisfied with that response, the doctor moves on to pressing various pressure points on Eddie’s leg to measure how much he can feel (and Steve tries very hard not to feel so weirdly irrationally jealous at watching the doctor feel up Eddie's leg). After a few more soft painful hisses that let the doctor know Eddie's nerve endings are intact - or whatever it was she was testing - he's told to try and stand. He's understandably apprehensive, hesitant. The doctor and his uncle help coax him off the bed; the competent and the familiar. Steve hangs back still, sure he's not needed for this. 

But the second Eddie attempts to put pressure on his injured limb and he stumbles, his hand shoots out and it's Steve’s name he calls, as if on instinct. And, on instinct, Steve is there in a second to grab his hand and assist in steadying him. “I've got you,” he murmurs, guiding Eddie to the walker that's been set out for him. Eddie limps a few more feet with the help of the walker and the encouragement of Steve’s (hopefully) comforting hand on his shoulder until the doctor calls it and tells Eddie he can rest again. 

Once Eddie makes it back onto the bed, collapsing back into the pillows with a haggard sigh, the doctor and nurses immediately crowd him again, try to go straight into the next step of redressing his wounds. 

“Give him a second,” Steve snaps, protectively holding onto Eddie's hand and leaning over him. “Can't you see he's exhausted?” 

The doctor shoots the only other proper adult in the room a weary look. 

“They know what they're doing, kid.” Wayne's heavy hand lands on Steve's shoulder, both a reassurance and an alert for him to back off. 

“I’m okay, Stevie,” Eddie adds. He gives Steve a tired smile and squeezes his hand before prying it out of Steve's hold. “It's alright.” 

Steve reluctantly relents and steps back to give the medical professionals space to continue. 

Eddie's shirt is pushed up so the bandages on his chest and stomach are accessible as the nurses begin to explain and demonstrate the process of taking care of the injuries. Steve watches, listens intently, wants to absorb every ounce of information so he can best tend to Eddie if need be. Then his eyes flick up and he accidentally makes dead eye contact with Eddie who seems to realize then just how vulnerable and exposed he is right now because his cheeks burn red and his heart rate suddenly increases. 

The nurses don't seem to be too worried about this - if anything, they exchange knowing glances with everyone else in the room except Eddie and Steve before they continue their demonstration. Steve isn't worried either anymore - if anything, he finally resigns himself fully to the fact, the irrefutable proof, that Robin was right and Eddie really does have a schoolboy crush on him again. 

Steve does his best to keep paying attention, but in the background his mind is spinning and his heart aching. 

On the one hand it’s kind of sweet to know Eddie's feelings are not gone completely, that some level of attraction still swirls to the surface even through the empty space in his memory. And Steve has been indulging that crush the past couple days, little comments of flirtation just to feel like he still has Eddie in some way, just to see the reaction and have some evidence that Eddie still feels something at all for him. (Stupid, selfish.)

But on the other hand it is just a crush. Eddie used to love him, but now that's halved; and that's a very specific kind of agony. 

Steve’s not sure how much longer he can handle this. 

~

Something passed between them when they made eye contact; something sweet and sad flitted across Steve's expression, as it often does, but he looked away when Eddie blushed and has been avoiding his eyes again since. 

When the nurses are done showing them how to wrap him up, Steve retreats, saying kindly, though still not quite looking at him, “I'm gonna go get you some water, alright?” 

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Eddie smiles gratefully after him. 

“Your boyfriend seems sweet,” Nurse Katie comments, carefully, as she secures the last of the fresh bandages. 

“Excuse me?” Eddie coughs, chokes on his own spit, spluttering, “I’m- he's not- we’re- it’s- um. He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Oh, sorry,” the nurse is quick to apologize. “I didn't mean to assume, I just thought since he's always in here holding your hand, even before you woke up-” 

“We're friends,” Eddie says shortly. He feels a little dizzy at what she's suggesting and would really rather her stop talking. 

“Alright, my mistake.” Katie backs off the subject. 

Steve returns then anyways, further killing that topic of conversation. He hands a cup of water to Eddie, who takes it with another muttered “thanks” and starts gulping it down while the doctor goes off on some spiel about the process of having him discharged and more tests they’ll have to do tomorrow. Eddie’s not paying attention. He’s too tired. 

Not long after that, the doctor and nurses file out of the room, and Wayne stands to leave too. “I’m glad the two of you are getting close again,” he mentions to Steve and Eddie on his way out. “You were good for each other.” 

Whatever that means. 

Eddie doesn’t have the brainpower left to contemplate that. Being poked and prodded and trying to walk took a lot out of him. He’s exhausted, achy all over. It’s barely even late enough to be dinner time yet, but he could honestly just pass out right now. He sets his finished water cup on the bedside table and his now free hand reaches, once again, for Steve. 

“Tired?” Steve asks as he catches Eddie’s hand. 

“Mhmm.” Eddie settles against his pillows, closing his eyes. He adds in a sleepy mumble, “’M glad you were here today.”

“Me too.”

He feels Steve’s lips slide gently across the back of his hand, and then Eddie slides gently into sleep. 

Immediately, though, his dreams are not gentle; for the first time since he’s been falling asleep with Steve’s hand in his, Eddie dreams of the bats: 

Eddie was in that hell dimension, the scene all black and red and dotted with bats. But he wasn’t alone. Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley were there too, the three of them fending off the creatures with boat oars, and Steve- Steve was on the ground; two bats gnawed on his sides, another had its tail wrapped around his neck. Eddie’s heart was in his throat, roaring in his ears and pumping pure fear and adrenaline through his veins. He couldn’t save him; all he could do was try his best to keep more bats from joining in on the feast. 

Steve, however, seemed perfectly capable of saving himself. He managed to sink his teeth into the bat tail around his neck, getting it to let go. Eddie couldn’t see everything, too busy whacking away more incoming bats, but when the last of this fleet of creatures was fought off, Eddie turned back around to find Steve on his feet now, holding a bat by the tail and slamming it against the ground far more times than necessary. He watched as Steve stomped down on the bat’s neck and tore its head from its body. Blood from the bat’s tail hung from Steve’s lips in a thick, dark drip before he spat it into the dirt.

Eddie stared, jaw dropped, pounding heart pumping an entirely different sensation through his veins now. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” 

Steve gave him a bloodstained grin and Eddie’s knees felt weak. He would’ve dropped to the ground in front of him right then and there if- 

“Keep it in your pants, Munson.” Robin shoulder-checked him as she walked past. “At least until we get the hell out of hell.” 

Eddie settled instead for sidling up to Steve and, after taking a second to make sure he was alright, whispering low and close to Steve’s ear, “If we were anywhere else and you weren’t injured right now…” The muttered end of that sentence was something so filthy it made Steve’s face burn red, and he laughed. 

“Freak,” Steve said affectionately as he smacked a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. 

Eddie was quick to turn his head and catch Steve’s lips, locking them together in something searing and intense. 

“Boys!” Nancy snapped impatiently from a few feet ahead, which startled them apart. “Seriously? Time and place, come on.” 

Both Eddie and Steve laughed as they followed after the girls. 

Eddie wakes up a little bit disoriented from that dream. He doesn’t know what to call it: Was it a nightmare or not? Was it a memory or another fantasy? The lines are blurred and Eddie finds himself confused. 

Steve must’ve seen this on his face because he asks, “Everything alright?” 

“Yeah…” Eddie answers slowly. “I had a dream about the Upside Down…but it wasn’t quite a nightmare, I don’t think. I’m just- I’m not sure if it was a memory or not.” He hesitates, then decides screw it, he might as well try to get some sort of clarification on the reality of some details of his dream. “Did you…rip a bat in half with your bare hands?”

“I did, yeah,” Steve confirms. His expression shifts, sparking with something like hope. 

“And, uh, did I tell you that was the hottest thing I’d ever seen?”

“You did, yeah.” 

“Okay, cool,” Eddie says, reeling. “Just checking.”  

Steve is watching him almost expectantly, but when Eddie doesn’t say anything more on the subject, his face falls into something more like disappointment.

(final part is here!) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

[haruriin]

VALENTINE EVE'S NIGHTMARE ♡ * ˖ ࣪ CH. O2

★ synopsis: every teenage girl has her own struggles, so naturally, you found a way to escape yours! though you never thought you would bump into a pretty boy who had the same habit as you...oh, he's actually in the same school as you? and you two share the same taste in movies too...? wow, lucky you!

*✧·˚ cw. rin itoshi x f!reader, this is a smau & written fic! reader has family issues, so does rin, reader is 16, reader is a smoker, this is angst for like 2 chapters the rest is pure crack/fluff trust, language.

"ugh..." you groan when the sound of the notifications coming from your phone jolts you awake, who dares to bother me so early...?

you stick out your arm from under the bedsheets, ready to set your phone on dnd mode when you're interrupted by a sudden impact on your bed before you can do anything.

"what the?!" you're getting suffocated by an unknown entity! is your house really haunted, or has your brother finally lost his mind? you'll probably have time to think about it when you aren't being asphyxiated under the sheets...

"why the hell haven't you woken up already?!" says the creature that's currently trapping you. the sound is muffled, but you can definitely recognize that voice...

"get off of me eita!" that's what you used the last air you had left in your lungs for. now you're sure you're about to die, and you never even got to know that cute guy from yesterday's name...damn it!

"alright, no need to yell, princess." wait, you aren't dying, the air's finally entering your lungs again...!

"never do that again! and how did you even get in my house?!" you sit up on your bed. still gasping for air, you grab your phone that was laying next to you to check the time and your eyes widen, how did you manage to oversleep so badly...?

"i was actually waiting by the door like always, but i ran into your brother outside, i think he was going to work or something. anyway, he told me i could wait inside." he shrugged and you noticed he was munching on something. wait, your brother going to work this early? that's certainly odd...

"what are you eating?"

"oh? your cookies."

"what? those were my lunch for school today!" you furrow your brows, seriously, how annoying does otoya get?

"oh well. you can get something from the cafeteria." he shrugs again. the nerve of this guy!

"whatever, just let me get ready so we can go." you sigh and make your way out of your bed, detangling your limbs from the bedsheets to get to the bathroom until you notice otoya is still standing across from you in your room.

"...why are you just standing there?"

he doesn't give you the time to regret asking him before before his lips curl into a smirk "don't you need any help getting dressed?"

the smile is abruptly removed from his face when one of your pillows comes flying to his face at full force, "GET OUT!"

"so that's what it was about...i didn't peg you for the type to fall in love at first sight."

"that's because i'm not..." you say while smothering the wrinkles on the skirt of your uniform "i think."

you made sure to tell otoya every little detail of what happened last night while the two of you walked to school, you had such a short interaction with the mysterious guy yet it took you almost all of the walk to tell him the story.

"you think?" otoya looked at you with a raised eyebrow while walking inside the school building, waiting for you to go in too. "i can't believe you finally like someone, are you going to leave me behind now...?" he sighed dramatically and you chuckled, rolling your eyes at him.

"don't be so dramatic, plus it's not even like i'm crushing on him...i'm just curious." you stopped when you reached the door to your class; this is where you and otoya part ways, since he's a grade above you.

"sure, sure." he ruffled your hair slightly, turning around to make his way to his classroom, giving you a wave and a 'see ya later!'

you let out an annoyed sigh, trying to brush your hair back in place with your hands before opening the door to step into your class, luckily enough, you weren't too late.

"alright guys, class is dismissed now, get ready for whatever subject you have next!"

you're brought back to reality when you notice isagi turning his chair around from his spot in front of you, you lift your head up from your desk to stare at him when bachira makes his way next to you too.

"damn, that sucks, i guess we're gonna be separated for this project" apparently there's a '?' sign written across your face, because bachira immediately notices your confusion at isagi's statement,

"did you not listen to anything of what the teachers said?"

"uhh, not really...what did they say?" it's true that you spent the entire first period of class staring out the window, but damn it, it's not your fault! that guy with the long lashes just won't leave your mind...

isagi crossed his arms on top of your desk before speaking "you know how they give us a different project for each semester this year? well, they decided that for this semester's project half of our class will move to the classroom next to us, and half of the people in that classroom will come to ours." he explained while playing with the charms on your pencil case.

"yeah! they read the list too, me and yoichi are on the group that will stay here, you are on the group that will move to the other class." bachira had a small pout on his face. "oh, the teacher also said we'll have to form groups of three, we could've made one together, but i guess you'll have to work with two students from the other class for this one..."

great. just what you needed. you already barely had any friends in your class (only bachira & isagi, honestly...) and now you were going to have to pair with people from a whole another classroom? you don't think you even know the face of anyone in that class.

you gave a defeated sigh. "ugh...how many periods will this project last, anyway?" you ask, grabbing isagi's hand from your pencil case and absentmindedly playing with it

"like one period per week, i think." isagi says while staring at his hand in yours as you twist and turn it freely, "they also said this one will be shorter than the last one, it'll last 2 weeks."

"everyone go back to your seats and open your english textbooks." isagi and bachira quickly turn back to their own desks, and you straighten yourself up on your chair before bringing your books out of your backpack.

you have a feeling this project is gonna feel awfully long, what will it even be about...?

when your last class before lunch ends, you make your way out of the classroom walking side by side with isagi and bachira. the three of you are greeted by otoya leaning against the wall next to your classroom's door.

"hey you guys." he reaches out to ruffle isagi's and bachira's hair messily, you chuckle at their annoyed expressions and manage to duck away before his hand can reach your hair.

"why are you here? shouldn't you already be in the cafeteria with karasu by now?" you say making your way to his side, to which he slings his arm around your shoulders.

"yeah, but he didn't come to school today." you raise an eyebrow, that's unusual. "he's sick or something, so i'll be having lunch with you today, aren't you guys happy?" he smiles happily and tugs you closer to him

"so we're your side hoes now?" oh, isagi took the words out of your mouth!

"pretty much."

you tune out their discussion when you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, you don't usually get any texts at this time. curious, you bring your phone out.

you quickly send out a response before turning your phone off again. sigh. so you are gonna be alone again this week? it's not like you interact with your brother or anything when he's at home, but at least you don't feel the crippling loneliness gnawing at you when there's someone else in the house. you probably won't bother to call him even if there actually is something urgent, you know he likely won't pick up anyway.

"hey princess, did you hear me?" you're snapped out of your trance by otoya's finger poking your cheek, quickly looking up to stare at him,

"huh?"

"ohhh, are you still thinking about that guy with the long la-" that's about as far as he can say before you're aggressively slapping your hand to his mouth to shut him up.

'mmphjfgg!' you let go of him with a 'yuck!' when he starts trying to speak under your hand, effectively coating your palm with his spit...

"y/n, we were saying me and yoichi will see you later in class, we're meeting up with seishiro and reo to get some training done before lunch break ends!" bachira says while grabbing isagi by his wrist, they both give you a smile and a wave before turning around and making their way to the field.

those two are always thinking about training, must be nice to have something you're so passionate about...

"anyway, let's go have lunch together, you've gotta buy me something from the cafeteria after eating all of my cookies." you say as you finish wiping the remnants of otoya's spit on his school shirt, interlinking you arm with his before you hear him groaning something about having to get you lunch.

⟡ * ˖ ࣪ m.list ⟡ *˖ ࣪ profiles ⟡ * ˖ ࣪ taglist: @x3nafix @taefanclub @lukapurin @vertejay @levihanmyotp @lovelymeguru @chigiri-luvr @kaz-0e @t3chn0chan @yiiscorner @sfwrin @yuukiririix (ask 2 be added!)

a/n: for some reason i thought i had already posted this days ago...i did not 💀 im also not sure if i should let this series marinate some more or start posting the chapters daily😭

© haruriin 2025.

[acknowledge-reigns]

Needy | Jey Uso x Reader (featuring Roman x OC)

Description: Reader has been feeling down with Jey being on the road so much + Roman and Jey bring their girls food while they're getting their hair done.

Warnings: Discussion of depression and anxiety, doubts, suggestive behavior and language, mild angst, fluff.

requested by: @wrestlingbaby

My masterlist can be found here.

You and your best friend Nettie walk into the cozy salon, the scent of hair products filling the air. The salon is empty, save for sisters Elysia and Desia, your other two friends who are chatting with each other at the front desk. They co-own the Salon D+E Beauty.

"Hey, y'all!" Elysia greets you with a warm smile as you enter. "Long time no see!"

Desia nods in agreement, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"We were wondering when you two were gonna show up!" she says, grinning. "We've got the whole place to ourselves today, so we can take our time with your hair. Which is good cause y'all 15 minutes late."

Elysia and Desia usher you and Nettie over to the chairs, pulling out hair products, combs and brushes. They start getting to work, sectioning off your hair expertly.

"How's life been treating you girls?" Desia asks, her fingers moving deftly through your hair.

Nettie laughs, settling into her chair. "Busy as always," she says. "Work, the kids, family drama... you know how it is."

Nettie was a mom of five, married to Roman Reigns. With her husband being so busy doing everything required of him as quite literally the biggest star in wrestling to day, being a stay at home mom with her own online shop kept her on constant go.

Elysia nods sympathetically, her hands never slowing down as she works on Nettie's hair. "Tell me about it," she says. "I've been swamped with clients lately. I barely have time to breathe."

Desia grins, rolling her eyes. "That's an understatement," she says. "She's practically living at the salon these days."

Elysia sticks her tongue out at Desia, pretending to be offended. "Hey, it's not my fault I'm in demand," she says. "People can't resist my magic touch."

Desia chuckles to herself as she begins to seperate the pieces of vibrant ombre blue and black braiding hair for your head while Elysia did fhe same from Nettie, though her hair was a red and black ombre instead.

Elysia catches Desia's chuckle and shoots her a playful glare. "What are you laughing at?" she asks, pretending to be annoyed.

Desia just grins wider, clearly enjoying teasing her friend.

"Oh, nothing," she says innocently. "Just thinking about how humble you are."

"Anywayyy, Y/N, you're quiet. What's going on with you?" Elysia asks looking over at you in Desia's chair

You smile softly, your eyes flickering up to meet Elysia's gaze in the mirror.

"It's.. complicated." You let out a sigh.

"Complicated how?" Desia asked.

"Complicated like.. I've just been down lately, with Jey on the road so much..." You shared with your girls.

Nettie frowns, concern etched on her face. "I know that's tough," she says, "Back when Roman was on the road more I had the same issue. I'm so thankful for his reduced schedule these days."

It was nice to have a friend that actually understood what it meant to be a wrestling wife. Not just a wrestling wife but a bloodline wife. All four women were close, they'd all known each other since college but only you and Nettie share that specific connection.

"Have you guys talked about it?" Desia asked.

"Well.. No." You sighed.

"You know he'd want to know how you're feeling, right?" Elysia says. "He loves you, and he wouldn't want you to suffer in silence."

"Elysia's right," Nettie says. "Jey's not a mind reader. He needs to know when something's bothering you."

"I don't want to seem.. Needy. Or high maintenance." You stated.

Elysia rolls her eyes, clearly disagreeing with your thoughts.

"You're not needy or high maintenance," she says firmly. "You're a person who has needs and feelings, just like anyone else. And Jey loves you for exactly who you are, including the times when you need him."

Nettie gives you another reassuring glance

"Seriously, girl," she says. "Don't let your insecurities get in the way of communication with Jey. It's not doing you any favors, and it's not fair to him either."

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴

A couple of hours later, the girls' hair is about half done. Nettie had texted Roman that the two of you needed him and Jey to bring you some food since it was going to be another hour or two and you both were starving.

The door to the salon swings open, and Roman and Jey walk in, carrying takeout bags.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Nettie teases, glancing over at the two men.

Jey grins, his eyes lighting up as he sees you standing there scrolling on your phone. He sets the bags down on the front desk and strides over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

"Hey, baby," he says, nuzzling his face into your neck.

You lean back into his embrace, feeling a wave of comfort wash over you. The familiar scent of his cologne fills your nostrils, and you close your eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of his strong arms around you.

"Missed you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. "You look beautiful, by the way."

He glances up at the half-done braids, his eyes filled with admiration. "You got that blue for me?"

You smile softly, a mix of warmth and affection filling your chest.

"Of course I did," you say, tilting your head back to look at him. "I knew you'd like me matching your gear."

Jey grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I love it," he says, his voice low and seductive. He presses a gentle kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing patterns on your waist.

Roman rolls his eyes playfully, shaking his head at his cousin's obvious PDA. "Can you two get a room already?" he jokes.

Jey just chuckles, tightening his grip on you possessively.

"Don't mind if we do," he retorts, giving your waist a playful squeeze.

"He must really miss you too, Y/N. And you thought you would seem needy." Desia accidentally lets slip.

Jey's expression immediately softens, and he glances down at you, concern etched on his face.

"What's she talking about, baby?" he asks, his voice gentle.

The girls exchange guilty looks, realizing they may have inadvertently let something slip. Roman just sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Uh oh, Jey's in trouble," he mutters in a teasing tone to his cousin.

"Oh, shush!" Nettie scolded Roman with a light smack to his muscular chest.

Jey raises an eyebrow, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly.

"Hey, don't ignore me," he says, his tone firm but still gentle. "What did Desia mean by that?"

"We'll talk when I get home, okay?" You offered.

Jey looks like he wants to press further, but he knows better than to push you when you're not ready to talk. He nods reluctantly, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

"Alright, we'll talk later," he agrees, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment.

The tension in the room is palpable as the others exchange glances, knowing that there's clearly something unspoken between you and Jey. Roman and Nettie both look uncomfortable, while Desia bites her lip, silently scolding herself for her slip-up.

The air seems to thicken as Jey reluctantly releases you from his embrace. He gives your hand a final squeeze, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what's bothering you.

"I love you" He says.

You return the sentiment, your voice soft and sincere.

"I love you too," you say, mustering a small smile.

The others remain silent, the atmosphere in the salon now a mixture of tension and awkwardness as the guys take their leave.

Once the door shuts behind them, Desia lets out a sigh.

"I'm sorry," she says, guilt evident in her voice. "I didn't mean to let that slip out like that."

"It's fine. I needed that nudge to talk to him anyway" You said.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴

The rest of the braiding session goes by quickly, and soon enough, you're all finished. The girls bid you farewell, promising to meet up again soon.

You gather your things and head out to your car, the weight of the conversation with Jey looming over you.

The drive home is silent, your mind racing with thoughts of what to say to Jey. When you finally arrive home, you take a deep breath and step inside, steeling yourself for the inevitable conversation.

You find Jey in the living room, sprawled out on the couch and scrolling through his phone. He looks up as you enter, his eyes immediately locking onto yours.

"Hey," he says, his voice cautious. "You're home."

He sets his phone down and pats the space next to him on the couch, silently inviting you to sit down. His expression is a mixture of curiosity and concern, clearly wanting to know what's been going on with you.

You take a seat beside him, the silence between you thick with tension. Jey turns to face you, his gaze unwavering.

"So," he says, breaking the silence. "Care to explain what Desia meant earlier?"

Jey waits patiently, his eyes never leaving yours. He knows you well enough to give you the space to gather your thoughts and find the right words.

After a moment of silence, you take a deep breath and finally speak up.

"I've been feeling... neglected," you admit, the words feeling heavy on your tongue.

Jey's expression darkens, his jaw clenching slightly.

"Neglected how?" he asks, his voice tight.

You can see the concern and guilt in his eyes, but there's also a hint of anger, as if he's upset with himself for not noticing sooner.

"You've been working a lot lately, Being champion has you on the road even more." you say softly. "And when you're home, you're either on the phone or working out or watching TV. It feels like I hardly ever get to spend time with you anymore."

Jey's shoulders slump slightly, the weight of your words hitting him hard. He looks away, guilt written all over his face.

"Damn it," he mutters under his breath. "I had no idea I was making you feel that way."

"I just miss you is all. And I struggle a lot when you're on the road, with my anxiety and depression and i didn't know how to tell you without sounding needy.." you explain.

Jey's heart clenches at your words, and he reaches out to take your hand in his.

"You're not needy, baby," he says firmly, looking into your eyes.

He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight against his chest.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, burying his face in your hair. "I never meant to neglect you like that. I've just been so focused on work and trying to prove myself that I lost sight of what really matters."

He holds you even tighter, as if he's afraid to let go.

"I promise I'll do better," he says, his voice full of determination. "I'll make more time for you, no matter what. When I'm home, I'm all yours, babygirl."

Jey pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes.

"I love you so damn much," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you never feel neglected again. You mean everything to me, and I'm sorry if I ever made you doubt that."

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss.

"You're my priority, not work, not the title, not anything else," he murmurs against your lips. "You come first, always."

He deepens the kiss, pouring all of his love and regret into it. His hands slide down your body, pulling you closer until you're practically in his lap.

"I love you, y/n," he whispers, breaking the kiss to nuzzle your neck.

"I love you too, Jey.." You said.

Jey's lips find your neck, and he presses a series of gentle kisses against your skin.

"I don't deserve you," he murmurs, his hands roaming over your body possessively.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he looks at you.

"Let me make it up to you," he says, his voice low and rough. "Let me show you just how much I love and need you."

Without waiting for a response, he scoops you up into his arms and stands up from the couch. He carries you effortlessly to the bedroom, his grip on you tight and possessive.

"I'ma show you, baby.. I'ma take care of you."

[luveline]

Hi Jade! So definitely feel free to ignore this if you aren't interested I totally get it! But if you want I was thinking of the zombie Steve au and how my biggest fear would be to ask him for help finding period supplies while in the road. I know you said in your faq you don't write this, but I was thinking really it wouldn't be about any physical things reader is experiencing but more like embarrassment asking Steve and he's like "its no big deal!" Anyway, like I said if this is a hard no pls ignore! 💙

hi, hope this is ok ♡ steve zombie!au

cw reader menstruates + eats meat 

Your back always aches. Your stomach always hurts. Symptoms of your period are stealthy under the general misery of life on the road, but you do eventually clock on. This persistent back ache is pervasive today, working its way around your stomach. It feels like a sharp stab of heat, and it's nothing compared to the pain you'll feel when it actually starts. 

Steve turns his rabbit over the fire slowly, unaware of your internal struggle. "I still can't believe it," he says. 

Not only did your snares work for the first time ever, you caught two. It's the first time in weeks you've eaten something that wasn't canned, your fingers still warm from your own. The fire is small to avoid attention, one rabbit smoked at a time. 

Steve let you have yours first. He's chivalrous when he wants to be. 

"Maybe we're getting good at this," you say, turning your water bottle into your hand. The smallest splash you can manage wets your palms. You rub them together and dry them haphazard on an already dirty shirt from your backpack. 

"Yeah… maybe not," he says, shaking his rabbit skewer as it starts to smoke. "Shit. You made it look easy." 

"It is easy, Steve. Do you want me to do it?" 

He offers you the skewer, a sharpened, scorched stick you made in an attempt to be clean. You shuffle across the grass on your knees to take it, happy and sad at once when he touches your waist. You eat up any affection he's willing to give you (not much), but you feel disgusting today, worse now you know you're going to come on. 

You bite your top lip as you tend to his food. How do you tell him? You're going to have to, because right now you're in a vaguely safe area, and now you'll have to backtrack to the last place you went. You should've been looking for sanitary napkins or tampons or something anyways, just in case, even if you hadn't had your period for ages. 

"Steve, I… I think I've done something stupid." 

He scrapes his hair from his face. "That's unusual."

"No, I– I really have." 

Steve drops his hands into his lap, frowning, always frowning. "Lay it on me." 

You shift uncomfortably, focused on the heat of the flames not quite licking at Steve's skinned rabbit. How to phrase it? What would you have said before the end of the world. "I think it's going to be my time of month, soon. And… and I should've thought about it before, when we were near the mall still, or that house, but I didn't. I'm gonna need– you know. Things." 

Steve surprises you, shuffling closer, rather than away. Not that you were expecting him to treat you like a leper, but it's not a fun thing to tell someone. His hand again touches your side, fingertips brushing the tight wrap of your raincoat. "Are you in pain?" he asks. 

"A little," you answer, voice thick, talking before you've thought about what you're really saying, "I've had it way worse. I don't know why it stopped for so long." 

"You were probably too stressed," he says, his hand moving only an inch or two to cover your back. "Here, give me that." 

"Sorry, I know it's gross." 

"Are you kidding?" he asks, having taken the rabbit from your hands and laid it to rest on a clean stretch of hot stone. "It's not a big deal. Like, it is if you're hurting, but it's fine." 

"We'll have to go back," you lament. "I'm sorry." 

"Why are you so stressed about this?" Steve looks genuinely worried, his fingertips coasting a short path between your shoulder blades. Gentle, he starts to rub your back, goosebumps erupting along your skin at such a foreign sensation. "I took the same health classes as you did, I know you can't help it. Is this why you've been so slow today?" He doesn't wait for a response, only grins at his insulting, "I still have a square of Hershey's in my bag, did you want that?" 

"Tastes like chalk," you say. You'd love some chocolate right now, but you'd love it more if he stayed here rubbing your back forever. 

"You're not the only thing ageing badly." 

"Lowlife." 

"Wimp." 

"Dick," you mutter, closing your eyes as his hand skirts to the small of your back. 

"Is this helping?" he asks, matching your low volume. "We should go back anyway. Hole up in one of the houses by the elementary we passed." 

"I can walk. I'll be okay. I just need something to stay clean." 

"Okay. I'll get you what you need, don't worry. Don't worry." He hugs you very briefly, a quick squeeze against his side. "I'll make it suck as little as possible." 

You look up at him with evident relief. "Thanks, Steve." 

"We're in this together. Right?" 

"Right." You smile. Steve smiles back. You've caught him in a good mood tonight for sure because of your successful snares, but you're wondering if he would've been this good to you no matter what. Steve is a good guy when he isn't asking you if you just got off the imbecile train. 

"Will you finish that for me?" he asks, pointing at his rabbit. 

"Oh, yeah. Of course." 

When it's cooked, he insists you eat a little more of his. "You're gonna need the extra, yeah?" he asks, forcing strips of cooked meat into your hand. "Especially if we're walking back tomorrow." 

Steve hands you his last clean wash cloth before setting up for sleep. He might be understanding, but he doesn't seem to know what to say. You take it gratefully, and the brief squeeze he gives your shoulder even more so. 

[moonshine-nightlight]

Bad Case of Loving You! (I love a werebear hehe)

@snowkissedmonsters thanks! lol i think the story was partially inspired by ur comic about the new neighbors being a werebear and a cheerful witch. not fully the dynamic i ended up with but still a fun one. i enjoyed writing the dialogue for this way too much. chapter 1 is complete but i need to finish more of it before i can think of starting to post it (and finish the incomplete stories i have out there) but its a high contender for one of the next stories i might put out.

“You know what, please don’t—” You run your fingers through your hair and then down your face. “Look, now’s a very bad time.”

There’s a pause where Dion just takes in your defeated expression as you brace yourself for magic lies and cursed flattery like all the—“Okay,” he says with a shrug. He holds something up to the window. “Here’s the book I said I’d get from my sister.” Dion sets it down on the tall planter next to the door when you stare at him blankly, making no move to open the door. He’s not quite scowling, but his brow is furrowed in the way it always gets when he thinks you’re being ridiculous and overdramatic. “Good luck with,” he gestures vaguely in your direction, “whatever’s going on.”

You finally pull yourself together enough to breathe out a sigh of relief. “Thanks.” A close call, if he had started saying anything to close to what he does in your dreams, you’re not sure you’d have been able to stop yourself from pluging your ears and screaming in frustration. “Great.” Then, instead of weirdly milling around near the door, trying to think of some other reason to get to you, Dion turns around and starts walking away. “Wait.” You put your hand on the door, edging it open just enough to stick your head out. Dion turns to look at over his shoulder, frowning. “You’re actually leaving?

“Yes?” Dion turns half way and looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes! But, no, I mean,” You decide to risk opening the door further. Dion makes no move to accost you. Hope starts to rise up within you. “How do you feel today?”

“How do I feel today?” That bored, dry, even tone is finally gone. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Dion’s landed at exasperated with an edge of angry frustration—a common state of being when you were around. He leans to the side and looks behind you to say, “Hane, what’s their problem?” His eyes move back to you. “Did y'all get high on some wizard shit last night? Because if so, I am definitely gonna leave now.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder for emphasis.

“Oh no, you’re not. Get in here.” You can’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders in a half hug. “Thank god you’re immune!”

Dion tries to brush you off with an annoyed growl. “Immune to what, you weirdo.”

You hold onto him as you pull him inside, so relieved by this proof that you hadn’t ruined the whole town. “Thank you!”

Dion looks around bewildered while you cling to him but you don’t even care. At least he’s being normal and you don’t have to hear him come on to you only to have him take it all back once you fix this. You think you’d die. Or at least not be able to face him for a several days. “Someone,” Hane says, looking pointedly at you, “love potion-ed the town.”

“By accident!” you reflexively protest before beaming at Dion, “But you’re good! You’re so perfectly normal.”

[jessi4fanfics]

Beautiful

|Poppy fails to realize her beauty- which is why God created Branch 😌✨|

Branch knocked on the door of Poppy's pod, waiting expectantly for her usual cheery answer. She knew his usual curt knock and always answered with an excited squeal and "Come Innnnnn," in a sing-song voice.

 But today that call didn't come.I

Just a-- groan? Did she just groan about his arrival?!

 "Uhm, Poppy?" Branch said through the door. "It's me. I just came to pick you up for our date."

 Silence.

 "If you need me to come back later, I will," he offered. What was he saying? It was like nine at night, all he wanted to do was go to bed, despite how much he loves his dates with his girlfriend. He wasn't about to leave the date at the appointed time, stay awake, then come back. That was silly, and honestly, exhausting.

 "Branch..." The groan from that loved voice that he knew so well drifted from the inside. "Can we just-- do this another day?!"

Branch frowned. "What? Re-schedule? You have never done that ever." His eyebrows furrowed. His ear pressed against the door. "Honey, are you okay?!!"

 "Yeah, I...no?" Another groan of disgust, then a bang! as something inside fell to the floor. 

 Branch flinched.

 "Poppy?"

 More silence.

 "Poppy, can I come in?"

 A shriek of annoyance. "Fine!! Whatever, it's too late anyway! I don't care, I don't, I--"

Branch opened the door and entered right away. His eyes widened at the mess everywhere. Clothes were thrown in the floor, along with purses, combs and brushes.

Chairs and a table, plus a few chairs had been knocked over into the floor. They all lay there looking sad.

Then her mirror stand, right beside her bed, with small light bulbs surrounding the actual mirror, was a mess, the one drawer hanging out, her makeup bag spilling out it's contents into the desk, but the biggest shock was Poppy herself.

She was sitting in front of her mirror on a small cushion seat, her hair sticking up everywhere, her mascara dripping from her lashes, her green strapped dress that she was currently wearing all wrinkled and put on backwards.

As soon as he entered, she shrieked and covered her face. "Don't look at me!!"

Branch covered his eyes with his hand. "Why not?"

"I look terrible, that's why!" Her voice shook with embarrassment and dread.

Branch lowered his hand as he neared her. "Don't be ridiculous, Poppy."

 Poppy sobbed into her hands. "I'm not. I look terrible!!"

 Branch reached out and caressed her shoulder. "What's wrong? I've never seen you like this."

 Poppy swiped at her eyes. "I always behave like this before dates. I just usually have more time to freak out and worry about...well, everything. I finished work late, so I'm super overwhelmed-"

 "Whoa. Hold up." He sat on the bed next to her and looked into her mascara dripping eyes. "Did you say...always before dates?"

 Poppy sniffed and didn't answer.

 "Poppy, don't tell me you worry about your looks before dates."

She never seemed like that type of girl.

"I always worry about my looks around you." Poppy sighed shakily. "I know that doesn't matter much to you, but when you comment on how pretty I look or so on, I always feel obligated to keep those standards, if it pleases you that much, you know, and I worry that it doesn't and so I need more time to-" she stopped to swipe again at the tears rolling down her cheeks. "If you give me another thirty minutes, I will have my makeup perfect and hair and dress ready too, I promise, I just-"

"Poppy, please!!" Branch scratched the side of his head. "I didn't - oh gosh... I didn't mean to make you so stressed when I complimented you." 

"I'm not stressed," Poppy argued.

Branch eyed her up and down, then raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Poppy shrugged slightly.

Branch opened his mouth, closed it again, still in shock while looking at the crazy mess she was in. Her hair was literally yanked absolutely everywhere. Her eyes were red, and the strap to the dress was hanging down on her arm instead of shoulder.

He began to chuckle.

The laugh startled Poppy and she just sat there, staring at him. Was he laughing at her?! Did she really look that bad?!!

Her eyes began to tear up. "I'm sorry, Branch," she whispered, ashamed.

"No, it's not that," Branch continued to chuckle as he stood up and fixed her dress strap, setting it firmly on her shoulder. He smiled at the Poppy watching him, confused, through the mirror.

 "Then what is it?" she asked.

 Branch stood behind her, reached around and lifted her chin up high, to look herself straight in the mirror with both of his hands.

She quivered.

 "You're just- so beautiful. That's all."

 Beautiful? But...

 "How? I look dreadful!" Poppy looked back up at him, arguing. "I haven't even fixed my dress yet."

 "You don't need to be fixed up to be beautiful, Poppy," Branch smirked at her. "And you don't need makeup, fixed hair, a wonderful dress or any of that either."

 Poppy now looked down. "You do if you don't have natural beauty." 

Branch looked at her, surprised by her response. "Natural beauty? Of course you have natural beauty, Poppy."

 Poppy glanced at her face again, then shook her head. "Heck, no. It's just a face. And a plain old body structure. Nothing special. Nothing beautiful or pretty."

 Branch frowned. He got on his knees, and set his arms in hers so she had to look him in the eyes.

 "Poppy... I don't think you realize just what a wonder you are. I'll show you." He reached up and took her chin in her hands.

 Her eyes searched him and he smiled. "Your eyes... Do you know what color they are?"

She shrugged. "Magenta."

 "Right." Branch chuckled again. "Do you realize how much love and joy shines in those eyes, Poppy? How much my legs just want to buckle up and give way when you turn to me and look at me with them? How pure and amazing they are? Their color and the light they shine with?"

 He leaned up to kiss her eyelids and she smiled as she closed her eyes.

 "And don't even get me started on that smile of yours!" Branch smirked again, caressing her cheek. "If I thought your eyes shine a lot, then it's nothing compared to your smile."

 Poppy only smiled bigger and have a short giggle.

 "And your laugh. Oh." Branch gave a scoff. "It's only the most melodious sound my ears have ever heard. I shiver when I hear that sound, Poppyseed."

 He kissed her quickly, then reached for her hair. "Your hair is perfectly coily, perfectly straight when it needs to be. I love the way it could around my finger so easily-" he twisted his finger, encircling it with her pink hair. "And how I can give it a light teasing tug without hurting you." A tug on her hair, and another giggle escaped her.

Branch stood up and kissed the top of her head, but kept his face buried in it. "I could say so much about the rest of you but I think it's time for our date."

 Poppy jolted up again, alarmed. "Branch! I can't go out like this!"

 "You can and will." Branch grabbed her hand, intertwined his fingers with hers, kissed her hand (he loved her hands as well), and dragged her out of her pod.

 "Branch! Wait! Can I at least put my hair up?!" Poppy begged.

 "Nope!" Branch laughed. "I like it all ruffled." He ran a hand through it, ruffling it up more.

"Branch, please don't, it looks so ba-" She was surprised when Branch used his hand exploring her hair to yank her closer to him and kissed her.

Her arms immediately wrapped around his neck, pressing him closer, as his other hand reached around her hips, gently caressing her back.

When he pulled apart, Poppy whispered, "I do look messed up, Branch."

 "You do," he whispered back. "But you also look perfect."and

Poppy thought for a moment. "Do I really have natural beauty, Branch? Without the add-ons?"

Branch smiled. "Everyone has natural beauty. The thing is whether people choose to recognize it or not." He pressed his forehead against hers. "But you have the most beautiful natural beauty I've seen in a woman," he joked.

Poppy giggled. "Thanks," she whispered in return as they shared one last kiss before continuing their date.

Idek. Idekkkk, I don't, I don't. Thx for reading, you are literally the best for reading past the chapter explanation. Hahahahaha, HEARTSSS ❤❤❤

[advisorykitty]

Is it oo if u do randal x reader who has a similar personality to him? No rush and you dont have to do it if you dont wanna! :D

You and I

Randal x Reader oneshot!!

tbf i actually kind of liked this one! There is also Sebastian since i haven't written him for a while so hope u enjoy that!!

Randal first saw you crouched near the playground, dragging a stick through a patch of mud with impressive dedication. Most kids were playing talking about more 'trivial' matters, but you? You were sculpting what looked like… an angry face with sharp teeth.

“What’s that?” Randal asked, appearing beside you out of nowhere like he always did.

You barely glanced at him, but a small smirk tugged at your lips. “A monster. His name’s Chuck. He eats toes.”

Randal cackled, crouching down beside you. “Toes, huh? Nice. Can I add something?”

You shrugged. “Go for it.”

Randal snatched another stick and started adding spiky hair and a pair of wild, mismatched eyes to Chuck’s face. By the time recess ended, the two of you had turned the mud patch into a whole grotesque masterpiece. And just like that, you were friends!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Fast forward a few years, and not much had changed. You and Randal were still inseparable partners in chaos, thriving on mischief and mayhem. Which is why you were currently sitting on a tree stump in the middle of the forest, waiting for him.

“He’s late,” you muttered, flicking a pinecone across the dirt. It wasn’t unusual for Randal to lose track of time, but it was still annoying. You had big plans for today—things involving mud, trees, and possibly fire if you could get away with it.

Finally, you heard the familiar sound of mismatched footsteps crunching through the underbrush. “Hey, bunny!” Randal called, grinning as he emerged from the shadows.

“About time,” you said, standing up and brushing dirt off your jeans. “What took you so long?”

Randal shrugged, his grin widening. “Luther made me clean up my dolls before I left. He said if I didn’t, he’d ‘lock me in the bad boys closet.’” He mimicked Luther’s deep, monotone voice, then rolled his eyes. “As if that would stop me.”

You snickered. “Big brother sounds fun.”

“Oh, he’s a blast,” Randal said sarcastically, waving a hand. “Anyway, guess who I brought with me?”

Before you could ask, Sebastian stumbled into view, looking as miserable as ever. His costume was rumpled, his hair was a mess, and his expression screamed help me.

“I didn’t agree to this,” Sebastian muttered, glaring at Randal.

“Yes, you did,” Randal shot back cheerfully. “By not running fast enough when I grabbed you.”

Sebastian groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why am I here? I have better things to do than.. indulge .. you two ..psychos.”

“Because we’re fun,” you said, grinning as you leaned against a tree. “And because Randal said so.”

Sebastian sighed heavily, muttering something under his breath about “crazy people” and “needing a better escape plan.”

After some bickering and a lot of laughter (mostly from you and Randal), the three of you decided to play hide and seek. Randal, of course, was the seeker.

“Thirty seconds, then I’m coming for you!” Randal announced, turning to face a tree and covering his eyes. “One… two…”

Sebastian immediately began running.. and running?? clearly aiming to get as far away as possible. You, on the other hand, had a better plan.

Spotting a tall tree with thick branches, you grinned and started climbing. The bark was rough under your hands, but you didn’t care. You loved heights—the higher, the better.

By the time Randal yelled, “Ready or not, here I come!” you were perched near the top of the tree, peering down at the forest below. You could see Sebastian skulking around the base of another tree, glancing nervously over his shoulder his breath ragged from the previous running.

“Hey, Sebastian!” you called, waving.

He looked up, his jaw dropping. “Are you insane? Get down from there!”

You laughed, swinging your legs. “Why? Afraid of heights?”

Sebastian scowled. “No, I’m afraid of you falling and breaking your neck. Which I’m not helping you with, by the way.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, standing on the branch like a circus performer. “It’s not that high.”

“It’s at least twenty feet!”

“Whatever,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Watch this!”

Before he could protest, you jumped. The air rushed past you in a thrilling blur, and you landed in a crouch a few feet away from Sebastian.

“Ta-da!” you said, throwing your arms out dramatically.

Sebastian stared at you, his face pale. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Yep,” you said, grabbing his arm. “Now it’s your turn!”

“What—no—hey!” Sebastian yelped as you started dragging him toward the tree.

Ignoring his protests, you climbed the tree again, this time with him in tow. He clung to you like a terrified cat, muttering a string of curses under his breath.

“Relax,” you said, grinning. “I’ve got you.”

“This is not relaxing...”

By the time you reached the top, Sebastian was practically vibrating with anxiety. “I hate this. I hate you. I hate Randal.”

“You love us,” you said, laughing. “Now look! Isn’t the view great?”

Sebastian hesitantly glanced around, ,his expression hardened.

“No it isn't."

“Ouch.”

Down below, Randal was wandering aimlessly, calling out in a sing-song voice. “Sebaaaastian… Y/N… I know you’re around here somewhere!”

You grinned mischievously, leaning down to yell, “Up here, loser!”

Randal’s head snapped up, and his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Awesome! Can I join you?”

Sebastian groaned. “Please don’t.”

Of course, Randal ignored him and started climbing the tree.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

As Randal climbed the tree, you shifted your weight on the branch, causing it to sway slightly. Sebastian immediately clutched the trunk like his life depended on it.

“Can you not?” Sebastian hissed, shooting you a panicked glare. “This thing’s going to snap, and we’re all going to die!”

“Drama queen,” you muttered, waving him off. Then you turned to Randal, who was dangling precariously from a branch below you, grinning up at you like a lunatic.

“Nice tree,” Randal said. “Plenty of room for everyone, huh? Kinda cozy.”

“Yeah, cozy,” Sebastian muttered sarcastically.

Randal ignored him, pulling himself up to sit beside you. “So, guess what I found this morning?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Randal reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny doll. Its painted eyes stared blankly, and its hair was matted like it had seen better days. “Her name’s Matilda. Found her in the dumpster behind school. She told me she was lonely, so I took her home.”

“She told you?” Sebastian asked flatly, looking at Randal like he had grown a second head.

“Yeah,” Randal said casually. “She’s shy, though. Doesn’t talk to just anyone.”

You tilted your head, studying the doll. “I get it. I’ve got one like that. Her name’s Clementine. Found her in an old attic. She doesn’t like sunlight, though. Says it burns her eyes.”

Randal’s grin widened. “See? You get it. Dolls are way more interesting than people.”

Sebastian groaned, rubbing his temples. “You’re both insane.”

“Thanks,” you and Randal said in unison, clearly taking it as a compliment.

“Hey,” Randal said, nudging you. “If Matilda and Clementine ever meet, do you think they’d get along?”

“Maybe,” you said, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “But Clementine’s kinda territorial. She doesn’t like sharing her shelf.”

Randal nodded, completely serious. “I get that. Matilda’s the same way. Maybe we could set up a playdate and see how it goes.”

Sebastian blinked at the two of you, utterly baffled. “You’re actually planning a playdate… for your dolls?”

“Yeah,” you said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“Why not?” Randal added, shrugging.

Sebastian opened his mouth to say something, but then shook his head. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Randal turned to you, his expression mischievous. “So, do you name all your dolls, or just the special ones?”

“All of them,” you said, smirking. “Even the ones that don’t have heads. They’ve got personalities, you know.”

“I knew you’d get it,” Randal said, practically beaming.

Sebastian, meanwhile, looked like he was ready to throw himself out of the tree. “This is my nightmare,” he muttered.

You and Randal ignored him, falling into a deep conversation about doll maintenance. You compared notes on cleaning techniques, how oil made their eyeballs shinier, repair methods, and the best way to keep their clothes from fraying.

“I use a sewing kit,” Randal said, pulling out a needle from his jacket pocket. “Got it from Big Brother's room. Don’t tell him, though. He gets all cranky when I ‘borrow’ his stuff.”

“Noted,” you said with a grin. “I usually just glue things back together, but sewing sounds cool.”

Before Randal could reply, there was a loud crack.

All three of you froze, glancing at the branch beneath you. It groaned ominously, swaying under your combined weight.

“Uh… guys?” Sebastian said, his voice rising an octave. “This branch isn’t—”

SNAP!

The branch gave way, and the three of you plummeted to the ground in a chaotic tangle of limbs. You hit the dirt with a loud thud, Randal landing on top of you and Sebastian sprawled awkwardly beside you.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Randal burst out laughing, clutching his sides. “That was awesome! We almost died!!”

Sebastian groaned, rolling onto his back. “I hate you. I hate both of you.”

You laughed, brushing leaves out of your hair. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

“No, because it was terrible,” Sebastian grumbled.

Randal sat up, still grinning. “Let’s do it again!”

Sebastian’s eyes widened in horror. “Absolutely not!”

You smirked, nudging Randal with your elbow. “He’s no fun.”

“None at all,” Randal agreed.

Sebastian groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I just wanna go home..”

Randal's eyes gleamed for a second before turning to you.

"Oh yeah if forgot! Big brother said i had to be home by 7pm, what time is it?"

You quickly pulled out your old pocket watch and struggled to read the time.

"Uhh its 11pm"

Randal blinked, then burst into laughter, leaning back against the tree trunk with a manic grin. "Oops. Guess I’m grounded again."

You chuckled, shaking your head as you dusted off your clothes. “What else is new?”

Sebastian groaned, dragging himself to his feet. “You’re both insane.

[palmtreesx3]

Watching your friend, Steve Harrington, go on Kamakazi Mission dates over and over again was getting kind of old. You're always there to listen, comfort and pick up the pieces but what if this time it's just too much? What if this time you've had enough and something that feels a little bit like jealousy rears its ugly head?

(3k) Warnings: 18+ Smut okay? Failed dating, angsty friendship, jealousy, unfaithful/cheating adjacent, physical altercation, female fingering, public hookup 

Just a wee one-shot after someone (🧱) had to come in my inbox and talk about being jealous and defensive about Stevie instead of the other way around.

—

Steve's an honest to god, good fucking guy, so it should be no surprise to you when you find out he gave Heather a ride home after her car broke down outside of Family Video. He doesn't even do it for the praise - not anymore at least - which makes it all the more infuriating. 

Watching her jump out of his car. You roll your eyes at how she maneuvers just the right way so that her hair literally bounces when she giggles. The way she has her arms crossed in front of her, hands clasped - innocent enough - but you clock how she bats her eyes a little more than necessary and how her arms dig into her sides, pressing her tits up just a little more out of her dress than before. 

It's enough to gag. 

He sees you staring, eyes locked on her all the way from his driveway. Gives you a wave from across the street and you wave back. Can you wave sarcastically? If it's possible, you just did it. Giving him a thumbs up, he narrows his eyes at you before turning to go inside his house. 

Later at the house party you find yourself at that night, you're 3 beers in when you stumble into the kitchen. She's there hanging all over him. Trying hard to get him to cash in on a thank you for that favor earlier. Steve's not leaning into her, but he's not pulling away either. He's holding back, but the look on his face is hopeful and the smile on his lips is actually goddamn genuine. 

You know he's been on endless dates lately, trying to find one girl that'll be enough, stick around for at least a few dates, be interested in more than just a fuck. He recounts every one of them for you and Robin in excruciating detail. And then lingers and festers in the details of how it went wrong for twice as long. Self deprecating commentary that is nowhere near the truth and you can't bear to hear one more time will bring up the rear. 

So Heather fawning all over him tonight because he carted her off in his chariot in her moment of need sounded just about right. As did the slug trail of his broken, bleeding, lovelorn heart that was bound to show up after she stopped calling, was always busy, or just flat out told him she was done with him. Whichever it was gonna be this time, you already saw the writing on the wall. 

You're quick to move to the counter, right next to where they stand, and slam down a shot glass, filling it to the brim with whatever amber liquid you reached for first. When Steve reaches out to make sure you're okay.. suggest you slow down even, he touches your hand to stop you and you're taken aback by the shudder that runs up your body at his touch. You look at him, and then over to her and all you snap out is some comment about how you're just pre-medicating. When this blows up in your face I want to be ready. You gesture between the pair. 

You're not sure why you're being so mean today. Sure you're sick of the same old song and dance with him, but today you're angry about it and that's…new. She doesn't even notice your little outburst, fingers aimlessly toying with the tufts of hair brushing his neck while she stares off into the distance of the party. Steve, however, notices and is left to wonder why you're being such a bitch about it tonight. Wonders if your problem was with him… or Heather. 

Another hour later you're leaning against the brick of the house out back, hot cigarette held between your fingers, smoke billowing in the air around you. The sickly sweet sounds of a giggle coming from between the hydrangeas caught your ear. A giggle straight from the mouth of that blonde haired bimbo you could pinpoint from a mile away. It sucker punched you in the gut knowing how this was going to all go, and the disgusting slurping sounds of her tongue down Steve Harrington's throat just a few feet away made your eyes roll. 

Here we go. 

Making sure you loudly push through the opening in the bushes, full with browning gloves of delicate petals, you scoff at the sight of the back of Heather's head, lips now tucked into the crook of his neck.

Jason's neck. 

Not Steve's. 

There's absolutely no reason for you to do what you do next. Not one that makes logical sense, really. Because you open your mouth and can not help but tell Heather where to stick it. You call her a few names, some of them not very pretty, before turning on your heel and swinging the sliding door open to go back inside. 

Your mild annoyance with Heather's antics is suddenly festering into a blind, boiling rage, which made the fact that she decided to follow you a really, really bad one. 

What is your problem? She asks me. 

And at first you don't know what it is. Sure she's acting like a sloppy girl throwing herself on Steve…or apparently anyone who might just fuck her even more stupid than she already is. But she's not the first girl you know to act like that. Not the first or the last Hawkins Hot Shot who thinks they're too pretty for this hometown. 

But then the words spew out and it's pretty clear why there's a fire lit inside you. Each step closer you get to Heather you're giving her hell.

My problem? What's yours? I'm so damn sick and tired of girls like you acting like this. 

Girls like me? What does that mean, huh? 

Yeah, like what? You wonder to yourself. 

Like Steve is some fucking goddamn pet that you can lead around on a leash. Pet when you want something. Tie up when you don't.

Oh. 

You're just another one of these stupid fucking girls. It's disgusting how you treat him. Disgusting, you know that?

You continue on with a drunken dissertation about how Steve Harrington deserves more than these stupid vapid girls and how not one of them deserved him. 

There's a small crowd growing, drawn to your loud voice and colorful language. And she's clearly tired of the show. Never really caring all that much about Steve, more about the hookup, now that she's got Jason in her grip Steve is an afterthought. 

Until he's standing right in front of her.

Heather. He says. Big brown doe eyes looking sad and disappointed… again. Makes your gut fucking churn. 

Pushing your way through the crowded living room you're out the front door before you know it, not wanting to stick around to hear whatever she had to say to him. You didn’t want to watch his face fall and realize it’s over before it even started

Leaning against the first car you see, you tisk your tongue as you realize that the one you landed on was his. Has to be, doesn't it? 

There's an odd silence there.The thick sounds of the music muffled by the walls of the house are there, but you pay them no mind. There’s squeals and drunk laughter and chanting, but they all feel so distant. It’s a silence that doesn’t actually exist. One you created. But then, what does crack through your bubble - the thing that breaks the silence…

What you said… did you mean that? 

You don't even look up. You nod your head. You explain that you're sick of it. Sick of hearing about all of these girls walking all over the nicest guy you know. Sick of the games they play. Sick. You didn’t look up from your shoes once. 

It's fine. Really. I deserve it. I used to be no better than them. 

Shut the fuck up, already! Don't you say that. 

Maybe. Maybe that's true. You demand that he stop beating himself up. Punishing himself for something - someone - who's been dead and long gone for years. You tell him how you can't stand these girls making a mockery of him when he's genuinely trying. Tell him how you're gonna fuck up the next one that thinks it's all a game. 

Shit. Well .. thats …  

What? Confusion clouds your brain. Not sure what he's trying to say. 

Steve. I just don't want anything to hurt you. Not a demodog… or a stupid girl. It's always the same and I'm sick of seeing you think you deserve it. Like, sometimes I think you fuckin do this on purpose to yourself. 

What do I deserve then, huh? What am I supposed to do? Because I don’t fuckin' know.

Steve…just stop it. You scoff. 

Gravel is kicked up behind you and the footsteps you hear are drawing closer to you, a smarmy and whiney voice comes out to greet you Well well well, thanks for that show in there.

Jason, I swear to God, you need to keep it moving. Fists curling at your sides without a thought. 

Didn’t know you got this little thing to fight your battles for you now, Harrington. Real cute. Total fall from grace, huh?

You’re on him quicker than he knows what to do. The last thing he expected was for you to wind up and clock him dead in the face. Jason falls backwards a few steps stumbling as he grabs at his face, covering the tender spot where you knocked him, the left side of his nose and just below the eye. He's not bleeding, per say. But you take note of the deep purple stain already pooling in the dip of his eye socket, so you know that mother fucker is gonna feel it for weeks. 

He doesn't need me to fight his battles, Jason. You say his name dripping with sarcasm. 

Then why'd ya punch me, you bitch? Sure looks like it. 

You hear him step forward. You just know the tense look in Steve's face and the way his jaw is set and clenched without even turning around. You know the blind rage he gets when he feels like he needs to defend one of his friends - someone he cares about. You're certain the muscles in his lips are ticking and twitching with anger. And you don't have time for his theatrics tonight. You've had enough of it already, so you reach your hand out and backwards, stopping him by his chest so he stops his advance. 

Instead you step forward. Not scared in the least of Jason fuckin' Carver and his buttercup yellow polo shirt. You smirk as you see a drop of crimson blood has fallen from the tip of his nose and onto its front, just knowing how he's going to have to ask his Mommy to get the stain out for him. 

I punched you because you're annoying me. Your face is stupid, you talk too much and you don't know when to mind your own goddamn business. Where's Heather anyway? You two are perfect for one another. 

You turn on your heels and walk to the other side of Steve's car, leaning against the side and not looking back at Jason and his idiot stuck up friends as they stumble down the neighborhood road away from the party.

Steve comes around the back of the car, looking at you. He hasn't said a word, so that's been great. Probably thinks you're certified insane tonight with the way things are going. 

Steve, I'm good. Jason is clearly not an issue anymore. You should go find Heather - 

But you're cut off before you can finish, because in a few long strides he's in front of you, grabbing at your shoulders to bring your eyes up to his. Telling you how it's hot when you defend his honor. 6. Talking about how hot it was when you were looking at him all jealous of another girl's attention and affection. About how he never noticed it before but now it makes so much sense. 

I don't do that. I didn't - 

Now it's his turn to scoff. 

You ask him what's so funny? And he literally doesn't answer you, just laughs some more with a shake of his head. Eyes roaming around your surroundings. He hasn't moved away from where he's standing in front of you. Somehow HE looks annoyed with YOU now and you're ready to pick a fight about it. 

Instead, all of the air is stolen from your lungs when Steve Harrington leans down and crashes his lips onto yours.

What was that for? You shove him back a little, but his feet are planted and he doesn't budge. 

The smile turning up the corner of his lips is irritating. Irritating because you don't know why he's smiling, but doubly so because it is really fucking cute. Oh nothing, just wanted to show my girl how much I appreciate her. 

Your girl? Steve, you are sorely mistaken. Did you hit your head? Heather is -.

Honey. Stop. Let's not do this.

He argues with you. Tells you how it all makes so much sense. About how none of the girls are you, so of course they didn't work. About how of course you're frustrated and feel protective. About how those dagger eyes you were wielding all night were, in fact, jealousy. Because you both feel the same way and neither was smart enough to notice. 

I'm done with Heather, honey. I'm done with all the Heathers. He waves his hand at the house party, still booming with noise and energy, but only focused on you.

The feverous press of his lips back on yours happens before you can even process what he's said. Pressed against the side of his car, his hands quickly slide up your side, finding a warm and comfortable home under the hem of your sweater. Cold fingertips dancing up your sides, thumbs squeezing where it's soft and dips into your tummy, knee sliding between your legs all in one smooth motion. 

He pulls his lips away to look at you, both of you panting deep breaths, chests rising and falling and eyes darting around one another's faces, trying to process what's unfolding for you both right now. 

Sorry. 

He huffs out an apology. Says he shouldn't have. Says he wasn't thinking. Says he's never thinking straight. Goes to pull away. 

You grab his wrist as he tries to retreat.

They're all fuckin' stupid. Steve, they're all stupid. I've been telling you every time. Every single goddamn time. 

He looks back at you, still unsure. Eyes a little sad - wavering. Guard down further than you've seen it in years. 

And if any one of them got their head out of their asses, they'd have been so fuckin' lucky. 

He goes to speak before you stop him - Don't. Don't say it. Don't do that bullshit again. Just … 

Back against the side of the BMW he's pressed into you tightly. Hands wrapped around your hips, fingertips digging into the denim covering your ass as he squeezes. It really was like… the hottest fuckin' thing to watch you punch Jason Carver… for me. He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles where they're sure to be sore tomorrow. 

Can I say thank you? 

He asks you with pleading eyes. You ask him Didn't you just say it? He shakes his head. Tells you that's not how he wants to say it. Tells you that's not what he means. That he wants to show you instead. 

And once you nod your head at him, theres no time for anything. No time for thinking, moving, rational decision making. Because you're just there, in between Steve's car and some janky van parked next to it, as he's tugging at your button, crooking his fingers in your belt loops, making it just so he can slide his hand inside your underwear and maneuver his fingers to your core. 

He's so fuckin' gentle it makes your head spin. Featherlight touches around you, gently playing with the folds and petals of your lips, a slippery waltz on and around your clit, dancing with his fingertip. Eyelashes fluttering with your head tilted back and resting on his car door, unable to formulate words or phrases or noises - rendered utterly frozen and useless..

What stupid fucking assholes. Those girls took a pass on this? On this boy who just wants someone to be with. On all this care, and attention and - oh my God. 

You're pulled from your blissful thoughts by a deep pressure, a fullness you didn't expect from Steve's long and thick fingers entering you briskly. Mouth open and gasping at the twist and turns of them until he finds a spot that makes you twitch, a spot he likes. A juxtaposition to those gentle caresses, he's driving his fingers deep into your pussy now, reaching and rubbing. 

Still soft and careful but deep and forefull. He's not driving his fingers into you like the last guy who used his hand like a jackhammer. No, Steve is caressing your pussy and following through with a deep roll of his fingers on the upswing. Pushing back, pushing upwards, making your hips buck up towards him uncontrollably. You cry out when he scissors his fingers just a bit and then follows up with the quick addition of a third finger.

As abruptly as he's inside, he's back out again, rubbing and circling over you with his four, flat fingers, satisfying pressure on your clit making you forget about how you missed them being inside you for just a moment.

Shit, Steve…I-  someone's gonna see.

Let them. Fuck… let them. I hope they do. Then they'll know. 

Slipping those fingers right back inside, slick and squelching, toying with you, making you suck all of the air out of the world around you, he brings himself right next to your ear, pressed up against you. Cheek to cheek. You feel the muscles on his forearm tensing and flexing as he pumps into you ruthlessly. White hot pleasure swirling deep in your stomach, staccato breaths brushing past his ear, eyes squeezed shut your orgasm ripples through your body - tummy to toes, tingling running up your spine and back down again as you exhale from a breath you didn't know you were holding.

He hasn't pulled away yet. Hadn't looked at you. Fingers still inside, palm pressed up against the car just beside your face as he whispers They'll know I'm done with them now. Cause I've always had you. 

[itsfairly]

A Culture of Our Own // Nanami Kento x Latine! F! Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: Intercultural dating is still pretty difficult. But you make it work with Nanami. Today, you do it through music.

Notes: sfw, fluff, f!reader, established relationship, Latine! reader (though it's more Mexican-leaning), intercultural relationship and all that, self-indulgent, Spanish, no translations, not proofread.

A/N: Please note that this is more from my experience, it is also highly self-indulgent. And that is because Nanami is my man, sorry about that. Anyways, also HAPPY LATINO HERITAGE MONTH. this is for us y'all, i did my best for the community. I wanted it to uploaded it on the 15th, but life happened. But hey, I still uploaded this before the month ended, so it's a win.

Dating becomes interesting when you add culture into the mix. Did you think you would end up dating a Japanese man? Especially after a lifetime of your mother asking you to be with someone who spoke Spanish? No. But life had a way to play with you and a way to be nice to you.

Just look at him. Nanami Kento. Someone who was just as handsome on the outside as sweet as they were on the inside. So respectful, so breathtaking, and so dreamy. No one even came close to how much this man makes your heart jump at the sight of him. No, he might not know your native language. But he certainly made you happy and content at his side.

Of course, eventually, you start to explain your cultures outside of the common knowledge and general facts like holidays and etiquette. You start getting into pop culture and what is normally taken for granted in your culture. It's a slow process considering how spontaneous the conversation can be.

From "What does that mean?" when using slang to an inside joke your culture has, little reoccurrences become opportunities to learn more about each other. Sure, you might not be able to fully explain something or understand it, but it doesn't take away that you two start to weave your cultures into the relationship and mix them into one that becomes intrinsic to your dynamic.

Today, you had one of those occurrences when you were cleaning your place and he just happened to come early. When he knocks on the door, you let him in without missing a beat despite being in your full-on cleaning outfit and playlist. A playlist that consisted of old songs your mom used to play when she cleaned such as Bésame Mucho, La Mentira, Si Una Vez, and such. Real classics obviously.

Classics he's not familiar with.

"You're early." You noted with a smile, walking over to your phone and pausing your music.

He looks down at his watch, seeing that he is actually on time. He remembers how much you joke about your family being late to everything or how time is just really abstract for you after years of being told ahorita. A word that could mean anything between 5 minutes to two hours. He chuckles at your words, agreeing with you that he was early for you. The different perception in time between the two of you could be weird at times, but it never really brought many problems considering that both of you (you mostly) put in the effort to accommodate for it.

"Is there something wrong with wanting to see my partner a little early?" He asks, a small smile coming to his face as he walks closer to you, leaving a small kiss on your forehead.

You smile, happy to feel his lips on you once more. "No, but you're seeing me in the most typical way a Latina looks when cleaning. I don't need that image in your mind.

He looks up and down, trying to see this look you're talking about. Sure, you had baggier clothes and your hair was in a bun with a few hairs sticking out and decorating your face. He hums, brushing those hairs back behind your ears.

"I think you're exaggerating considering that we've dated for a while." He raises an eyebrow at you, smirking when he sees that you really think you look messy or bad for just wearing something more comfortable when cleaning. Nothing wrong with that and definitely not making you look ugly in his eyes.

"Still, what if you caught me mid-performance? This playlist doesn't play around, alright? It's classic after classic."

Nanami laughs softly, seeing how serious your face is with your words telling him that you mean every word. Though, now that he thinks about it, he doesn't recognize the songs from the small snippet he heard through the door to the moment you paused the songs. It makes him curious about them.

"Classics?"

You nod before taking your phone and standing by his side to show him your playlist. It is after a couple of swipes down that you realize he can't even read the titles of the songs since they are in Spanish.

"In Latin America." You clarify, getting an idea. You hand him your phone, tilting your head down as to give him permission. "Choose one, we'll put it on right now while I change my clothes."

He takes the phone and raises a brow as he tries to gauge the unfamiliar songs. "I don't even know what I am reading, dear." He deadpans, making you chuckle.

"Then choose one randomly." You say, guiding him to your bedroom so you can pick your clothes.

He looks at the phone, looking through the album covers of the song. He recognizes some of the artists that are part of mainstream pop culture, Shakira being the easiest to recognize. Yet, his finger presses onto a song that he doesn't recognize at all.

But you do and it's obvious from the way you slowly turn to look at him and instantly melt into a light sway of your hips to match the song's slow and romantic rhythm.

"I always knew you were a romantic at heart but I didn't know it came naturally to you." You tease, taking out a shirt and jeans that were much more suitable to go out than the baggier and frankly unflattering clothes. "Let alone that, but you also chose a classic among classics."

Sabor A Mi. Now that's a real gem across Latin America and generations. Guitar strings fill the air with a romantic and sensual sense that warms up the room while the yearning lyrics are contracted by the singer's soft whispers. More than a classic, it's romance 101 in music.

"I take it I chose a good one then." He hums, placing the phone on your nightstand, turning around to face away from you as you change. To him, even if you dated for quite a while now, that didn't give him a right to look. Even if you insisted there was no problem and that you didn't mind, he still turned around out of respect for you. No matter how many times he has seen you out of those clothes, he still wanted to be the gentleman that you first met.

The pure intention made you smile and the song amplified those butterflies in your stomach.

Quickly changing out and into your clothes, you walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your chin on his shoulders. As you begin to sway on the spot with the music, you whisper, "A great one."

He's quick to follow your lead, letting you set the rhythm you have become so used to dancing after a lifetime of hearing boleros like this one. He doesn't have to understand the lyrics to understand how intimate the song is. The guitar strings and soft melodies tell him that enough. Enough to pull you closer to him as you two sway to the song.

He looks down at him, your head now against his shoulder with your eyes closed. He can see how relaxed your face is, the sun sweeping through your window and occasionally hitting your face with its light just enough to decorate your features. If his heart was struck by you once before, this moment served as a reminder of that.

"It's a nice song." He says softly, his hand running down your arm until it finds your hand. He entwines his fingers with yours.

You hum, looking up at him and lifting your head off his shoulder. "You certainly know how to choose them." You tease, stretching your arm as you separate your body from his, your hands connecting the two of you as you hold the other's.

He sees you smile, brightly and softly in a way that tugs his heart. God, you were so pretty. Plucked strings encourage him to pull you closer once more, seeing you spin until his arm is wrapped around you and your back meets his chest with a giggle.

God, he was so lucky to have you.

"I do." He wasn't talking about the song.

The song ends but you two continue to dance. Swaying and spinning in your bedroom without a care in the world. How could a match this heavenly happen against all odds? When neither of you thought you would date someone from a culture so different from your own?

Neither of you thought about that. Not right now when you were dancing so gently and oh so passionately at the same time. No words exchanged, just smiles and hums. Maybe a kiss here and there that either managed to steal. But words? No, just your phone playing songs about love you never thought you would live.

Oh, how wrong were you.

How wrong were you to think that when this moment showed that you were not only loving and being loved, but you were doing so in the way these songs made you feel. It was a dream. It was luck. It was a movie. It was music. It was him. Him.

"Please send me these songs later." He says, breaking the silence.

"You're gonna study these later?" You tease, chuckling at the idea of Nanami listening to songs he doesn't know what they are about.

"Maybe." He chuckles, lifting your hand as he spins you around. "You said they were classics, didn't you? I have to know about them if we're going to keep dancing like this."

You smile at him. After so many people were disinterested and even critical of your culture to the point that you felt like having to keep it private, he wanted it to be included in your relationship. Even celebrate it in a way. Why does it even come as a surprise when he always looked at you in awe whenever you spoke Spanish? Even if he didn't know what you said, he would always have this curiosity towards that part of you that was once criticized.

Nanami knew how to love you, but now it was clear that he knew how to love the culture you were so in love with too.

"You're right. You have quite the content to go over then. So do I. Not only do I have to go over Japanese culture, I also have to study a bit of Danish, don't I?"

He chuckled, pulling you closer to him and letting you two become one with the music once more. The world melting away with just the two of you existing in this very room.

Yeah, there are bumps in the road. Misunderstandings and uncertainties that could sour what you two had. But it never did. Not when he was so patient in sharing and learning. Not when you were so excited to know more and explain what made you you. Culture could be tricky, but for the two of you, it was what made your relationship so enjoyable. You may have had different upbringings but you were still similar enough to work well together.

Though it was something the two of you already knew, it was something that was confirmed to Nanami once he translated the song he just happened to choose by chance earlier today. Our souls have become close enough that I keep your flavor and you keep mine all well. It was funny how a song he just happened to tap on happened to describe why you two worked so well. You had different cultures that entwined together once you became a couple, having pieces of each other's culture embedded into the other.

He thought it was just a wonderful idea that it became one of his favorite songs that you've shown him.

Dating someone from another culture is interesting, scary even. But life was kind to you and let you meet Nanami, someone with whom you could unapologetically share your culture knowing that it would be as cherished as every other part of you. Someone who made it easy to share both cultures until you created your own. A unique culture that was both him and you.

A culture that tasted of both you and him because of how much you loved each other and stayed by your side.

Neither of you would have it another way.

[rintoki]

luocha's voice is so calming...

imagine fucking him sensually, slowly, lovingly. and his moans are even prettier🥰🥰🫶🏻🫶🏻 filling my heart w serenity and love

MEEEEMDMRNFNDD UR SOO RIGHTTTT HES SO SMFNRKGNDKNFK

he’d look so pretty in white lingerie <3333 and his long hair ngngmgnfngnfjrbf gGGrRRRAAA i wanna comb his hair and kiss his shoulders, watch how easily his skin flushes because of how fair he is. his shaky breaths as you explore his body, slowly undoing the ties and ribbons of the white lace piece, unravelling before your eyes.

but you don’t take off everything, because the white lingerie just looks so gorgeous on him. no, instead it hangs rather messily on him; one strap falling off his shoulder, the panties pushed lazily to one side, the ribbon that was tied over his chest undone as it is now exposed to your hungry touches.

he shouldn’t be here actually, he’s a travelling merchant. but something about you draws him in, somehow he always finds himself coming back to you. maybe it’s the way you kiss his body, or the way you hold him so firmly and yet still gentle, how you always seem to know where to touch him that has him trembling.

“did you find this piece while on your travels?” you toyed with the silky garment, brushing your fingers over the translucent fabric on his hips. “it looks gorgeous on you.”

luocha sucks in a shaky breath, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “i… thought you’d appreciate it,” his voice was soft, eyes following your hands. you were going excruciatingly slow today, perhaps you were appreciating the lingerie a little too much.

the little white panties barely covered anything, already soaked with precum as evidence of how long you’ve been at it. it didn’t take much to push the string that made up the back half of the panties to the side, your fingers massaging the puckered skin of his hole. luocha bit down on his bottom lip, anticipating the feeling of your fingers pushing in and filling him up; oh how he’s missed the feeling.

you watched as the rise and fall of his chest quickens with the anticipation, his hips twitching and pushing against your hand.

“plea—please…” he whispers, and you oblige him. pushing a lubed finger in first, before pulling out and pushing in two. you listen to his quiet whine, his abdomen quivering as he tries to relax and accommodate the stretch. curling your fingers, you search for a spot along his spongy walls, stroking the way you know he likes it.

luocha grips at the sheets, the muscles in his belly flexing when your fingers brush over a particularly sensitive spot and he finds he cannot control the way his legs twitch, nor the high pitched whimpers that escape his mouth.

it didn’t help that your other hand has found it’s way to his cock, gently palming it through the fabric of the panties and his hips bucks pathetically, unsure if it wants to thrust into your palm or push down on your fingers. you smile at his predicament, kissing down his inner thighs and biting a dark mark into his milky skin. it pleased you greatly to see the blonde man in such a state, normally so put together and elegant now with his hair a mess and sticking to his sweaty skin that was flushed a crimson red.

it didn’t take long for luocha to release into the panties, soiling it further as he gasps for breath, body tensing and trembling helplessly beneath your touch. he stares at the ceiling, your warm touch already leaving his body and leaving him cold in the bed. as a travelling merchant he should be glad that you kept your business short, but he can’t help how he wishes you would stay just a while longer.