#i had the first half written a while back but I kind of hated it

[threesorrows]

Hello! I hope you're doing well!

I know it's been a long time, but I was wondering if there was any updates on the status of The Rift That Tore This World in Two? No pressure, I was just curious given I just finished my twenty-eighth reread (according to AO3 history) after falling back into the Naruto rabbithole (after leaving it for like, 3 years, sheesh this brings me back).

Regardless of whether or not you have an update planned for that fic, I just want you to know that I love it very much and I'm so happy with what you've already put out; of course I would love for there to be more, but what we already have is more than I could have expected. Yugito & Naruto, particularly, is a friendship I wished could've been explored more and your fic gave me everything I was hoping for and more. It's one of my all-time favourites, being that it's centered around the jinchuuriki and explores the individual relationships between each one. And the worldbuilding is absolutely insane, so much so I don't think I have the word count to properly describe how I feel about it. I have absolutely fallen in love with this fic, more so than any other. You are the kind of writer I aspire to be.

This has gotten a little offtrack haha, I apologise for that. Basically... even if there isn't a status update on the fic, or any planned update in the near future, I just wanted to say thank you so much for The Rift That Tore This World in Two, it's gotten me through many shit days by making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I hope you have a good day!! <3

Oh wow! Thank you!

I never imagined someone would read Rift so much, it’s really exciting for me! I was smiling for like an hour after I read this you really made my week.

I do have a status update available. The first half of the next chapter is written and I’ve been picking away at the second half. It’s definitely going to be slow going on updates but my goal is to get at least one chapter out per year. Fingers crossed it will happen sooner.

I have the rest of the story all plotted out already, so I want to finish it. It will get there someday!

[zevrra]

jayvik x reader smut - jayce and reader trying to pump up viktor to give a presentation to a crowd,,, possibly making him read out the presentation while giving him various ✨distractions✨,,, just desperately need to see vikky-boy get the praise he deserves ✊

includes: [nsfw!!] fem!reader and jayce help vik “focus” for a speech!

ft. viktor x reader x jayce

extra: thank you for the request!! i hope you enjoy this and hope you request again soon! <3 (also did not proof read this forgive me for any errors jshsjsh)

“no. i refuse.” viktor huffs annoyingly as he walks across the lab. his cane taps against marble flooring as he moves to lean against the large desk he’s spent countless hours at, disapproved by what you and jayce ask of him. “jayce, you should do it. i-i cannot.”

“no can do, v.” jayce replies as he stands at viktor’s side, a soft gaze landing on his partner’s face.

“the council asked specifically for you to speak vik.” you add as you slip right up on the other side of viktor. you reach with a gentle hand to reassuringly touch his shoulder.

viktor sighs, running a hand across his slender face. amber eyes scanning the floor for any excuse he can use to get out of public speaking. not that he hated it but he…kind of hated it. jayce was always better at speaking to the masses as he was far more charismatic than viktor so why the council wanted him to speak, he didn’t know why and had a sneaky suspicion it was thanks to you two…but he couldn’t prove otherwise.

seeing the slight worry in his pretty eyes, you look over at jayce with your own concerned look but he seems to know exactly what to do to calm both of you down. “why don’t we help you practice vik? i’ve written a speech already so you can just read from it, yeah?” jayce brightly says, retrieving the notes from somewhere in his jacket, handing the folder off into viktor’s hands. “just pretend we’re the audience!”

you smile fondly at jayce. thankfully, he was always so prepared and this worked out perfectly for viktor to get a little practice in before he was supposed to give said speech.

that is until viktor gets half way into the first paragraph before he gives up, pressing his head into his hand. “this is ridiculous! i can’t do this.” he grumpily says, pressing the papers into jayce’s chest to give them back to him.

jayce takes up the papers along with vik’s hand as he holds it gently in his own large hand. “no, come on v! you were doing fine.” jayce states in a matter-of-fact tone and you nod in agreement on the other side of vik.

you take vik’s other hand and place a sweet kiss against it. “he’s right viktor. you just need some…encouragement!” you exclaim with a smile. viktor and jayce give you a puzzling look as to what encouragement you could have in mind. “how about for every paragraph you get through i’ll…take off a piece of clothing.”

“w-what!?” viktor gasps, blinking at you with wide eyes as if you’re nothing but serious about it. “and how is that…going to help me?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, mirroring jayce’s shocked face as they both stare at you; dumbfounded.

you shrug, moving to stand in front of the two men, hands on your hips. “i’m not sure but it can’t hurt to try.” you remark.

jayce laughs a little but nods along, handing vik back the speech he’s to work on, before moving to stand beside you where he then rests a hand on your lower back. “i’ll help.” he adds to your provocation, sliding his hand along your waist until he lays a hot hand against your hip as he bends down to place a kiss against your neck.

viktor stares for a moment in silence, debating in his mind but ultimately the thought of you stripping wins him over. his eyes move over the words of the speech in his hand as he begins to repeat them aloud. his voice is a little smaller but ultimately calmer as he begins to actually read the speech. after the first paragraph he eagerly glances up at you and jayce from over the edge of the paper. and you both keep your promise, jayce removes a piece of your clothing.

he starts with your shirt, fingers gripping the hem tightly before ever so slowly he pulls it up. and he easily removes your shirt up and over your head; tossing it onto the desk beside viktor, before he returns to placing kisses against your neck. his hands smooth along your semi-exposed body as viktor stares longingly at the two of you.

he quickly returns to reading the speech. reads through 3 or 4 more paragraphs worth of the speech with a calmer, more focused tone than he previously had been. presents himself with more confidence than before; as the last piece of your clothing is being taken away by jayce. you help him by shifting your legs a little, lifting your feet to help him discard your underwear.

viktor stares as all of it happens. “i don’t think i can focus anymore...” he mutters under his breath, laughing a little as he lowers the paper.

“only a little more to go.” jayce hums in response towards vik as his hands trail along your body. warm fingers groping your skin, showing you off like a prize he’s won as viktor watches with hungry eyes.

“you’re doing so good though sweetheart.” you add with a smile, trailing your hand down the front of vik’s chest, stopping at the edge of his belt. “keep going. i love listening to you v.” you whisper while your fingers work on undoing viktor of his pants. you slide your palm against the front of his underwear, moving to kiss along his jaw.

one of jayce’s hands follows your own to vik’s lower half as he joins in on rubbing vik through his underwear while his other hand slips between your thighs. his fingers press right up against your cunt, rubbing slowly as he kisses the back of your neck.

viktor gasps softly at the hands groping him, fingers slightly trembling as he watches everything going on before him. jayce’s hands on you, your hands on him, the kissing at his neck, his breath hitching as you slip your hand beneath his underwear and give him a swift stroke. “mmph this is!” viktor whines, pressing his full weight onto the desk.

you smile as viktor stumbles over his words, unable to really speak as you and jayce’s hands wrap around his stiffening cock.

“if you finish with the speech quickly vik, i’ll let you fuck me.” you respond with another stroke, chuckling as vik gasps again. but it’s cut short as you instead deeply groan when jayce’s fingers press inside of you, a shiver runs down your spine.

“she’s wet just from thinkin’ about it.” jayce sweetly hums, fingers flexing inside of you while his other hand moves along vik with your own. “your voice is so nice vik. it turns her on.” jayce adds, spilling any dark secret you may have tried to hide.

you pout at his words and if he could see your face you’d roll your eyes at what he says. instead you press into him, feeling his own stiff cock grind against your body. “you’re one to talk jay. you’re as turned on as i am.” you respond now with a grin. listening, and loving every second, as jayce groans as you rub up against him. “you love listening to him too. you’re so hard right now…”

“please uh, now is not the time you two.” viktor remarks, interrupting you two, as a red hue settles vividly on his face. clearly, he had not realized the two of his lovers had enjoyed his voice so much and the embarrassment is staining across his pale skin now. he clears his throat while pressing a hand against his lips in an attempt to hide his face from your watchful gaze.

jayce and you suddenly connect a few dots that maybe viktor really, really liked being complimented and praised. “mmm, i really enjoy it when vik talks about the work he does in the lab. he’s always so charming when he speaks.” you say as you move to viktor’s side, glancing at jayce as he flanks to the left. your hand moves slightly faster against vik’s erection while jayce follows in your direction. you rub against vik’s tip, returning to kiss at his neck, while jayce mimics everything you do.

“mhm. i love hearing his voice when he orders me around too.” jayce comments with a chuckle against vik’s skin.

vik in return half moans, half whimpers at the sudden praise. the speech now long forgotten, set off to the side, as vik closes his eyes in pleasure. “you two…”

fuck the speech, the crowd, the council, and everything in between the only thing you wanted to do now was viktor. and it seems like jayce agrees with you as the two of you share a knowing look. your watch as jayce turns viktor towards him, watching as the two lock lips in a heated make-out. you shift vik’s underwear down and finally pull him free, scraping your teeth along vik’s pale neck.

“let’s see just how pretty his voice can get, hmm?”

[themultifanshipper]

You decided, on a random Thursday in december, that you were going to give each of the 2025 rookies a visit, to congratulate them on getting into F1. 

Warnings: this is kinda wild but not very explicit, it's more about the dynamics than the actual smut, I'm trying to set stuff up for the 2025 season, biting kink, gym sex, kitchen sex, oral sex, anal sex, very bad flirting, half of this was written while blackout drunk

Part 10, and epilogue to One of the Boys

It was also to show them a little of what they would be fighting for next year, along with the trophies. 

You went to see Ollie first, him being the one you knew best. 

He'd done 3 races in 2024 and you'd gotten to know him a bit when you two would chat during weekends where he wasn't driving. 

You'd sent him a text, you were staying in Italy for a few days and you should hang out sometime. 

He readily agreed. 

You showed up at his house one sunny afternoon, and he answered the doorbell with his usual grin. 

He was also shirtless, wearing gray sweats, and his hair was dripping wet. 

“I just had a shower” he said apologetically. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I can see that”  

“Come on in!” he ushered you inside with enthusiasm “Don't mind the mess, it's laundry day” 

You giggled at his nervous disposition. He was fidgeting with his hands. 

“I don't care Ollie, I'm not here to comment on your tidiness” 

His nervous grin turned into a genuine smile and he visibly relaxed a bit. 

“Right, yeah of course. Uh do you want a drink?” 

It was your turn to grin at him. 

“Would love one! What have you got?” 

“I've got like… loads of fruit juice.”  

You frowned curiously. “What do you mean loads?” 

You ended up staring at all the bottles lined up in his fridge door. The tension was palpable, you hadn't said a word in a whole minute as you read all the different labels. 

“Like… seven or… eight… maybe nine different kinds?” 

“Is this weird? I feel like it's weird” he finally piped up sheepishly. 

You picked up the bottle of passion fruit juice and stared at it, before turning towards him with a barely concealed smirk. 

“I didn't know you were so… passionate about fruit juice” 

He looked at you in disbelief and you dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

“Simple orange will do me fine thank you, Ollie” you wiped your tears of laughter away while he rolled his eyes. 

“I can't believe I just bared my soul to you and you're making puns about it” he scoffed, but he was smiling as he took a couple of glasses out of the cupboard and filled them. 

“Well, you are the bare- man” 

“Oh my god” he groaned “I hate you” 

You laughed and the tension seeped out of the room as you bantered back and forth like you always did. 

“So-” he eventually asked, eyeing you suspiciously  “What actually brings you to Italy?” 

You were sat on top of the kitchen table, next to Ollie who was sat on a chair. 

“What? Can't I come and visit my friends?” 

“Friends…Plural?” he asked teasingly. 

“Yeah, you're actually the first on my little trip, I'm also going to see Kimi and Gabriel in the next couple of days…” 

He raised an eyebrow and hummed in surprise. 

“Are you, now?” the sarcasm was dripping from his tone and he held back a laugh as he took another sip from his juice. 

You frowned suspiciously at him. “What's that supposed to mean?” 

He put his glass down, considering his next words carefully. 

“You know… Franco has told me a few things…” his eyes bore into yours and you shivered under his intense gaze, gesturing for him to continue. 

 “…about the private party in Monaco” 

“Colapinto…” you tutted “One of these days that mouth of his is going to get him in trouble” 

You put your own glass down before adding “I'll be having a word with him. And you'd better not share whatever he told you with anyone else” 

He smirked, finishing his glass before standing up to put it in the sink. 

“Of course not…” he muttered as he turned around and stalked towards you “We wouldn't want my mouth getting me into any trouble, would we?” 

He stopped inches away from you, hands leaning on the table either side of you, effectively caging you in.  

“Or can I get into a little bit of trouble every now and then?” 

You weren't sure where his brazenness had come from, but his lazy smirk was getting you hot all over. You glanced at his lips, and he caught the movement. 

“Little Oliver Bearman?” you goaded him “he would never get into any trouble! He's an angel…”  

Your breaths mingled as he leaned in, painfully slowly, his pupils dilating as he closed the gap. 

“We'll see about that”  his lips lightly brushed yours, and you could feel him smiling, tempting, daring you to make a move. 

You did, you crumbled, leaning forwards and joining your lips heatedly. 

He tasted like oranges and sugar, and when you deepened the kiss he closed the space between your bodies, leaving absolutely no room for Jesus as he immediately started rocking his hips against yours, and you realised he definitely wasn't wearing any underwear. 

He took you right there on the kitchen table. 

He ate you out first, proving to you that his mouth was, in fact, trouble. 

Then he worshipped you with his hands while he reduced you to a puddle of goo on his cock. 

After, he asked if you wanted to stay the night, hang out, watch a movie or something. 

You agreed without hesitation.  

… 

You secretly, desperately hoped the Haas wasn't going to be a glorified wheelbarrow next season. 

Next on your list was Gabriel, and if his response to your message was anything to go by, he had definitely been briefed by Fernando beforehand. 

It took all of ten minutes of you crossing the threshold of his apartment, before he had you on your knees for him, swallowing around him as he looked down at your tear stained cheeks with nothing but hunger in his eyes. 

“Meu deus-” he groaned “Fernando was right, you do have a mouth worth fighting for” 

You hummed and took him deeper, sucking him down as far as you could, and it didn't take long for him to come with a shout down your throat. 

Once again you stayed the night, and in the morning he very kindly repaid you with three orgasms.  

One with you sitting on his face, one with his fingers dragging you to the edge of ecstasy with insane precision, and the last one with him bucking up into you while you held onto him for dear life. 

He was a lot of fun, that was undeniable. 

… 

But unfortunately for both of you, their really wasn't  much hope for the Sauber. 

Your tour of Italy ended in Kimi's apartment. 

And he had obviously not been briefed. 

He didn't seem like he had any inkling whatsoever about why you were there. 

When he opened the door he had his airpods in and he was sweating buckets. 

He was in the middle of a workout, and had lost track of time. 

“I am so sorry” he panted as he let you in “I didn't realise it was already time” 

You laughed at his panicked expression. 

“It s fine, Kimi. Just finish your workout I'm not in a rush.” 

He didn't seem to pick up on the way your hands lingered on his body when you hugged. 

So you watched him do the last part of his routine: weights. 

It was hard not to salivate. He'd rolled up his sleeves so that his arms were on full display, and you swore you saw a little smirk appear when he did. 

His biceps were objectively quite shocking in their size compared to the rest of him, and your gaze wandered over his body as it flexed. 

You couldn't help notice him repeatedly having to unstick his shirt from his body while grimacing at the feeling, so you took a gamble. 

“Kimi, if your shirt is bothering you, you can take it off” 

This time he definitely smirked at you. 

“Are you sure?” he grabbed the hem of his shirt “I don't want to make you uncomfortable” 

You bit the inside of your cheek at his tone, he was definitely trying to tease you. 

“Of course.” You giggled “Don't worry, I don't bite”  

Something in his gaze darkened and he muttered “that's a shame” before grabbing the back of the shirt and pulling it over his head. 

You could honestly say you definitely didn’t moan at the sight of his insane physique. 

Whatever went through your head in that moment was between you, and God. 

But Kimi could see the look on your face, jaw slack, dark eyes fixed on his sweaty muscles. 

You were no better than a man. You licked your lips and he laughed. 

“You sure you don't want a bite?” he teased, subtly flexing his arms. 

“Why don't you come here and find out?” you tried to sound confident but even to you it wasn't very convincing. 

That day, Kimi found out you loved to bite.  

And you found out he fucking loved to be bitten… everywhere. 

He fucked you on the workout bench. Then on the exercise mat on the floor, and by the end of it he was covered in teeth marks. 

His biceps, his neck, his tits, his thighs… 

He was going to have trouble explaining those to his physio. 

And everything he lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm and endurance. 

Two to go… 

You were at it for so long the sun had set and you were both pretty hungry so you decided to order take-out before going to bed.  

Isack was a bit shy at first, not really knowing what to expect when you showed up at his front door. 

You decided to do Paris first, that way you could circle back to Monaco afterwards to see Jack, and then spend a couple of days with Oscar and Lando, like you'd promised. 

You sat next to him on the sofa, telling him about your… reward system. 

He was hesitant with his touch, hand softly caressing the skin of your thigh as you spoke, but he quickly got into the spirit when you straddled his lap and pulled him in for a kiss. 

As soon as your top was off he made sure to give your tits all the attention they deserved with his hands and most of all, his mouth. 

It was heavenly when it trailed along your collarbones, nipping and sucking at your skin while his hands made quick work of your clothing. 

And once he was inside you, it was his turn to be in heaven. 

He was mesmerized by the way his cock disappeared inside you every time you bounced in his lap, his hands tightening around your hips to help you along. 

“Putain…” you could tell he was getting close by the strain in his voice as he uttered curses against your skin. 

“Can I… inside?” he whined, looking up at you with a pout, those beautiful brown eyes staring into your soul, and you bit your lip at the sight. 

“Go on then Isack, fill me up” 

He groaned and his hips slammed up to meet yours, letting himself go completely. 

… 

He then played with your clit lazily, eyes on yours the whole time as he studied your reactions, and he made you come just like that, seated on his softening cock while he made you writhe on top of him. 

Monaco was just as sunny as Italy, but there was a slight chill in the air as you knocked on Jack's door. 

He opened it seconds later with a massive smirk adorning his features. 

“I was wondering if I'd be getting a visit from you during the break” 

He winked and let you in, offering you a drink as you made yourself comfortable. 

“Seems like word travels fast, then” you blushed as you sipped your drink. 

You were already feeling tingly because of the couple of drinks you'd had on the plane, so you didn't hesitate to put your legs up on his lap. 

“You have no idea” he chuckled, one of his hands going to stroke your thigh. “I've had quite a few interesting conversations about you” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve heard that a few times now… I need to teach my boys to be a bit more discreet if they want me to come to the races next year”  

He raised an eyebrow, looking at the way his hand was making goosebumps appear on your skin in its wake. 

“I'm sure I could do something to convince you” 

You put your glass down to disguise the way your heart was racing at the look he was giving you. 

“I'm sure you could. But where's the fun in that? They're the ones that have been running their mouths” 

He grinned, leaning closer to you. 

“If you'll let me take you upstairs, I could show you how I could be running my mouth” 

His gaze dropped to your lips, his pupils growing by the second. 

“You've given this some thought, haven't you?” you teased, rubbing your calf over where you could feel him, already half hard in his shorts. 

“I've had quite a bit of time to think about what I want to do to you” he growled, hands going to hold your hips. 

“By all means, then. Take me to bed Jack” 

He sprung into action, lifting your body easily and carrying you up the stairs to the bedroom. 

Once inside, he stripped you of your clothes and manhandled you onto your front. 

“Hips up, whore” he ordered, landing a light smack against your thigh and you gasped at the unexpected show of dominance. 

You did as he asked without hesitation, and he chuckled. “Already wet for me and I haven't even touched you” 

His resolve crumbled relatively quickly though, and he crawled up behind you to eat you out like a man starved. 

But as you trembled in his hold, his attention slowly moved upwards. 

Well it was rare that anyone ate your ass, but he was doing so with so much gusto you couldn't help but moan into the pillow you were gripping onto for dear life. 

A bottle of lube and a few fingers later, you were spread out under him, your legs having given out embarrassingly early in process. 

He was inside you, rocking his hips against yours while your wetness spilled onto the sheets uselessly. 

You begged and begged, but no use. 

He wasn't usually a selfish lover by any means, there was just something about you that made him want to see you squirming and desperate. 

“Whores don't get to have their cunts filled” he said with a mean lilt to his voice. “But I am feeling merciful, so you can come if you can be bothered to do it yourself” 

You obeyed without question, reaching down under your body to help yourself along. 

He felt you come around him before he heard the high pitched moan come out of your mouth. 

Well, you had your work cut out for you with these rookies, and getting to play with them all season long was going to be so much fun, you could feel it. 

You clenched so tight around him he had no choice but to finish inside you, rocking against you until you both shuddered in overstimulation. 

You stayed the night at Jack's, shooting Oscar and Lando a quick text to let them know you were back in Monaco, and that they would soon be able to collect their Championship prize, just as promised. 

[causenessus]

in every universe. | nakahara chuuya

chuuya x gn!reader

written in 2nd person :3

"i'd give the world to her, as long as my heart's still beating, as long as she's next to me, because I like her." -> 20191009 i like her by (mac demarco)

2.7k words

notes: use of pet names sweetheart/doll (for reader) and love/darling (for chuuya), established relationship, a lot of flirting and teasing on both ends because they love each other and can handle it, chuuya cursing, chuuya being head over heels for reader, gifting giving as a love language taken to the MAX, just two people being bookworms :3 i hope you enjoy! the bookstore they go to (spoiler alert) is very much based off of a bookstore i went to while visiting my mango anon, so i dedicate this work to her <3

nakahara chuuya who never had time to read or stop to take a breath until he met you. in the sheep, even when he was first taken in, he soon began to help on food runs. once they found out about his ability, there was never a day he got to catch a true break. then joining the mafia kept him busy, and what he few things he did read were half-assed reports or those typed by someone who obviously should have been a novelist rather than a mafia lackey.

for him, there was no middle between never reading and reading something that made him want to set the paper in his hands on fire. but that didn't mean he outright hated the idea of it. he liked the idea of books and the stores and libraries that were filled with shelves of thread-bound tens or hundreds of sheets of paper from every decade of the world; some having recently found their way onto a shelf while others had been printed, placed on shelves, and traded hands for centuries. he liked the idea of the worlds each of the books contained, the different stories they all told, and the inferences and messages people would take with them after finishing a book.

once, he’d been trailing a target who'd entered a nearby bookstore to browse their selection. he'd done his own bit of wandering, mainly to fit in with the atmosphere until it became less of an act and something more genuine—a few covers would catch his eye and he’d felt tempted to pull them off the shelf and buy them right then and there before he remembered what he was here for. but that interaction had been his first experience with the allure of books; it wasn't really something he'd learned in that moment, but, more precisely, from you.

you, who would get too caught up in a book until he'd called your name for the umpteenth time, not angry, but worried about why you weren't responding to him. he'd feared you were purposely ignoring him and was unsure of what he’d done until you’d silenced his concerns with a laugh. when he'd settled onto the couch next to you after finally getting your attention, you'd climbed on top of him, pressing a kiss to his lips, "i'm not mad. i was just reading a good book, i promise."

a book had the ability to distract you that much?

"i just get lost in books sometimes—too focused on what’s happening in the world within them. that's what a good book does," you explained further, his hands trailing down to settle on your sides, pulling you close and flush against him.

he hummed, processing your words. it sounded like an interesting experience and anything you liked he was bound to like, right? the only kind of book he didn't want to read was a mystery. he had enough of that kind of shit in his everyday life when he had to figure out where the hell his rookies went off to every day–not to mention that cursed book he'd been trapped into by that detective boy from the agency several months ago.

a few days after your explanation, he was taking you out on his day off when you both passed the bookstore he'd previously found himself in on that last mission. recognizing the sign that hung on the wall above the store, his feet almost stopped as if he was feeling a pull to return back to the store before he ignored the feeling. noticing his interest in the bookstore, you’d squeezed his hand. "hey, I wanna go in there. can we?" you asked, tilting your head while pointing to the store.

he'd never been able to resist that sweet smile of yours and this is–of course–his day to spoil you, but he still can’t help but tease you a little bit first, "huh? you don't have enough books already?"

you pout, already settled on your decision as you begin tugging him towards the entrance of the store, "how rude! never say that to a bookworm. there's no such thing as having too many books."

"yeah, yeah, sorry." he rolls his eyes half heartedly, but he doesn’t put the effort to tease you above making it to the door before you do, holding it open before walking in after you.

the bookstore is worn, the small bell at the edge of the door more of a dusty bronze than a gold, showing its age. the floorboards have started to bow with how many seasons of cold and warm temperatures they’ve been through and they creak loudly, flattening back into their original flush position whenever he steps on them. there's a large dark walnut wooden ladder reaching the shelves of the store's abnormally high ceiling, looking as cliché as it gets, yet it was the first thing he noticed upon entering the store weeks ago and it’s one of his favorite touches to the store even now.

he almost protests when your fingers slip out of his as you run off to admire in awe a row of books that adorn the top of a piano, but he smiles at the look of wonder in your eyes that only grows when you turn to the left to see a staircase descending down.

"chuuya! look! they have a lower floor!" you say, straightening back up to point at the stairs, looking at him.

he's shoved his hands in his pockets, finally making it back to you after you’d run off and now he's staring you down with a look in his eyes that makes you melt and drop your arm shyly under his adoring gaze, "yeah, you just noticed, sweetheart?"

"well– not a lot of bookstores have something like this," you purse your lips, looking down at the floor, "you're acting like you've been here before."

"i have," he replies, arm coming around your shoulder to guide you to the staircase, where he knows you want to go. you look up at him in surprise as you begin descending the broad wooden planks and he shrugs, "was following someone last week and they came in here. spent like an hour walking around...they must've been a bookworm like you."

you giggle at his words, leaning closer into his touch, pressing a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw, nuzzling your nose into the side of his neck before pulling away. "well, now you're going to have to watch me wander around this bookstore. don't go too far, alright?"

"says you," he sighs, shaking his head as you run off the moment you reach the bottom of the stairs to the nearest bookshelf. while you spend a few minutes observing every spine lined up in front of you, he begins to wander around on his own, trying to find the books he'd looked at last week. there was no harm in it, right? it looked weirder if he just stood around in the middle of the store waiting for his sweet partner to be done. although, another unique touch to the bookstore was a small projector that hung from the ceiling of the basement of the bookstore. it was casting an old black and white film onto a side of a wall, where a few rows of seats had been placed for anyone wanting to sit for a moment.

but he didn't need to pretend he was here for a reason, he’d wanted to come in here just as much as you did even if he wouldn’t admit it. he soon found himself searching the shelves too, gloves trailing along the edges of several book's spines, ever so often stopping to pull one that stood out to him.

a blow against the shell of his ear makes him jump and he spins around to face you, his cheeks a little pink, "shit, you scared me, doll."

you only give him a teasing smile and laugh, your eyes flickering down to the book in his hand, "did you find something you liked?"

he turns the object around in his eyes, looking at its back as if the answer to your question was supposed to be there. the entire cover was made out of blue thread, and the gold text that had been etched into it had grabbed his attention. "i don't know, i think i just liked how it looked. what about you?"

he can see you holding your hands behind your back and at his prompt, you flash him a grin before revealing a pile of books balanced nicely on top of each other.

the large stack isn't what makes his eyes widen and lips part slightly–it's how familiar all the covers of the books look to him. "did you–?"

"you fell right into my trap, chuu," you keep teasing him and it pieces together.

you had plenty of books, and yeah you could always have more but you hadn’t wanted to come here for you. you'd noticed his slight trip up at the sight of the store, and brought him in here for him. so that he could look at books. you'd been secretly paying attention to what books he'd picked up out of the corner of your eyes. and once he'd finished talking himself out of buying a book and placed it back where he found it, you trailed behind him to pull the book right back off the shelves.

you'd snuck up on him at the end of an aisle, where there were bookshelves on all three sides of you both besides the way you'd come from. he used that to his advantage, suddenly pulling you in by the hip to press you against the bookshelf facing the opposite end of the aisle. to anyone else, he probably only looked like he was browsing the selection this shelf (unless they were unfortunate enough to look just a little bit closer, to the pair of shoes trapped between his own).

you'd exclaimed at the sudden pull, tightening your grip on the books, shuddering when you felt his breath on your neck.

"you're sly, you know that? when'd you start behaving like this?" the words went straight to your stomach where you felt a flutter, and you reached out a hand to grip the sleeve of one of his arms.

"well, i learned from you, of course," you fired back, your mouth immediately going dry at the trail of kisses he left down your neck.

"you're too cute for your own good, you know," he murmured, pulling away, leaving you a blushing mess. "are you done? should we keep going?" he asked, looking at you like nothing had happened.

"i– um– just want to buy these books and then we can leave," you fixed your clothing, trying to cool down.

he quirked a brow, "were you actually interested in those books too? in that case, let me pay–" he reached for the books in your hands but you dodged his attempt, shifting your arms to hold them out to the right.

"no, i'm buying them for you, silly!" you teased, already walking past him before he could process your words and catch you.

"[y/n]—"

"i know what you’re thinking. you didn’t want to buy them in the first place because ‘i’ll never have time to read them... what if I don't like them... blah blah blah…’ but that all changes today. starting now, i'll be taking you on reading dates at least once a month. got it?" you turned to face him on the stairs you were climbing back up and he stopped behind you, a look of surprise on his face. "you'll never know if you like them until you try, chuu."

"i–"

"good, it's settled," you winked before turning back towards the top of the stairs, walking over to the counter.

once you got there? chuuya fought with you to pay, the both of you whipping out your cards while the cashier in front of you continued to stare forward with a smile on their face as if the couple in front of them wasn't shoving at each other, cursing one another out as their arms got tangled up, grabbing at each other's wrists.

your card won in the end, and you laughed triumphantly before placing the books in his hands while he muttered something you couldn't quite catch. when you made it out the door, he'd pulled you by the waist to bring your back flush against his chest again, face pressed into your shoulder, his new books still held at his side. "thank you, doll," he whispered, face slightly muffled by your shoulder.

but you heard it still, turning to place a gentle kiss to the side of his head. "of course, love," you smiled, reaching your arm back to find his free hand, intertwining it with yours. "now, where were we going again? before we got sidetracked by the books?"

"i was going to treat you to coffee," he came back to your side as you both began to walk again.

you bobbed your head at the reminder, "ah, right! although i think you're mistaken. i was going to treat you."

he looked at you from the side, brows furrowed, "hell no. especially not after you paid for these books. you're not gonna win this time, i'll pin your feet to the ground with gravity if i have to."

"you wouldn't dare," you stuck your tongue out at him before looking forward and refusing to say anything else. and he didn't argue back, because you were right. he'd much rather wire his entire savings into your account or pay you back a hundred times over before ever even thinking about using his ability on you in such a way. "hey," you suddenly perked up again and he hummed in response, waiting for you to continue, "do you wanna read at the cafe? or just go home? don't tell me it's up to me, tell me what you want."

he sighed at how quick you were to shut down his default answer, taking a second to think through his answer. "i think i just wanna go home. don't wanna hear anyone's voice but yours."

the way he smirked at you afterward, seeing your face warm at his comment told you that he was flirting on purpose to get a rise out of you. but you also knew by this point that his compliments came from an honest place, it was just for his entertainment that he’d word them in such a way to leave you a blushing mess.

"alright then," you mumbles back, cheeks flushed, "we'll grab something and go home."

and that day off had started a routine. "reading dates" as you had called them.

you.

you.

he loved you.

he loved coming home, no matter the time, and seeing you on his couch, knees pulled to your chest where a book was nestled. he loved the way you beckoned him with a hand and a soft call of his name, carded your fingers through his hair as you changed your position, just to accommodate him, so that he could rest his head in your lap.

sometimes you seemed to read his mind and had the current book he was reading on the other side of you and would hand it to him so that he could read as well. sometimes, you simply rubbed his scalp, telling him, “just rest, darling. how was your day?”

maybe it was because he was always so busy, always on the move, always out of the house and returning home late, but he much preferred staying inside with you on his days off to going out if you didn’t want to. he liked it when you both lay against opposite sides of the couch, legs intertwined where they met in the middle, or when he was nestled between your legs, head resting on your middle as you both read in a peaceful silence. 

he liked best when neither of you even made it the couch, but woke up in each others arms, and stayed in bed the whole day. or when he woke up, an arm still slung around your front, keeping you close, but you were sat up, resting against the headboard of his bed, book in hand.

he loved you, it was that simple. it was the root of his life, his purpose for living, the feeling in which everything else could stem from.

perhaps you were a kind of book yourself, always able to take him to another world, where he could be separated from his problems and just focus on the beauty of creation and humankind. and he could do that all just by tracing the side of your face every morning.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。—will i ever bring you peace? | gojo satoru

wc: 1.4k

summary: gojo can’t give you a quiet life. no matter what. 

contains: written with f!reader in mind but no pronouns are used, hurt/comfort, jealous!gojo, more of gojo’s internal thoughts, mentions of an oc, gojo deserves all the luvin!!

a/n: split this into two parts: the first half (the prev part), lighter and more central to reader’s perspective, while the second half (this one), darker, and more central to gojo’s perspective. best read after ‘so this is what it means to be in love’ because there are some references made! reading the other parts, while not necessary, will add more to the experience (some references are made)! song i listened to while writing this was peace by taylor swift! 

collection masterlist: conversations on love 3.5a. this feeling inside of me— <- you are here -> +04. take my time (i'll spend it all on you)

“Would you ever want a quiet life?” 

The pond below you ripples as the koi fish swims away. 

You turn to face Gojo, hands hanging over the bridge railing, remnants of soft youth in his cheeks at 24. 

“I’d say it’s pretty quiet right now.” he answers, signature teasing lilt to his tone. He gestures around him, focusing your attention to how tranquil it is right now—sun beaming and the sound of nature in birds chirping and water trickling.

You roll your eyes; it’s always the distractions and non-answers with him. 

The silence between you is the product of years spent getting closer to reach this point; a silence of knowing that gives Gojo the space and time to reveal things on his own. 

“You already know my answer to that.” he says after a while, looking back down to the pond beneath you. 

And you do—with his small smile, almost resigned. There’s no point thinking about it. Just like when you’d asked him about love. It’s just not meant for him. 

“Would you?” he throws the question back at you, turning to you when he asks it. 

It’s a silly thing, to let hope like this bloom; you both know it’s well past that point now, too deep into chasing his vision for the future of jujutsu society—but it’s free to dream, right?

“I would, I think. Some peace from all this.” 

.

.

.

Gojo’s starting to hate that sinking feeling in his stomach lately—knots twisting before they burst into fits of pop! pop! popping!

It’s uncomfortable and annoying, seemingly getting worse the more he sits in these political meetings with you and ‘Kazuo’—or whoever this politican is, pulling your seat for you and making you laugh; the gentleman etiquette. He even lets you call him by his first name. 

There’s a slight tic to Gojo’s brow as he sits across you, leaning on the back of his chair with his arms crossed and leg propped up on the other. Obviously, you’re just being nice, nodding and smiling as you listen to Kazuo run through the document for this meeting beside you. 

But it still makes Gojo ache. 

He hasn’t been to many of these meetings, but he’s gathered enough to know what kind of guy this Kazuo is: well-dressed, good smile, good teeth–all things he has himself–but also, a gentleman, good-natured and hardworking, kind and gentle, and most of all at peace. Rumor has it that he’s looking to settle down soon, away from the politics to a nearby town just on the outskirts of the city—not too far but also not too close.

Seeing you smiling with him now just brings it back, that conversation you had years ago at 24 gnawing at him. 

“Would you ever want a quiet life?” you had asked, and when he threw it back to you—

“I would, I think. Some peace from all this.” 

It aches.

.

Gojo waits for you at the end of the meeting, watching as you and Kazuo continue to exchange pleasantries. He knows there isn’t anything to it, but there’s that knot in his stomach again, pop! pop! popping! and it worsens when he hears the secretaries gush about how you and Kazuo look so compatible, perfect—fit to get married. 

How disrespectful to your relationship, Gojo thinks. 

He huffs, quiet enough not to cause a scene but loud enough for you to hear him—to know that he isn’t in the mood for any of this. And in the perfect way you’ve synced yourself to him all these years, you smoothly transition into giving Kazuo your well wishes, accepting his handshake as your eyes meet with Gojo’s for him to do the same. 

When you both step out of the room, you make sure to hold his hand tightly, surely, in all the loving ways, but he grips back only lightly, leaving a small space–that infinity–between your palms on the way back home today. 

.

When Gojo thinks about it, it isn’t even because he’s lacking. He’s worked hard and continues to do so everyday, treating you well, loving you in the ways you deserve. 

But will it truly ever be enough? 

How can it be when you deserve more, so much more than this life you’ve been chained to since you were young?

Jujutsu society has been so rough to the both of you, that he thinks you, out of all people, deserve at the very least, some peace. Now that his vision is turning into a reality, maybe you can take a step back and afford a little more leniency. 

A good life, with a good partner, who will love you in peace. 

Someone like Kazuo.

Not him.

The thought is unusual; Gojo’s never really been one to feel insecure, but he thinks that, when you love someone this much, you’ll always want the best for them, even when you realize that the best might not be synonymous to being yours. 

Gojo can’t give you a quiet life. 

No matter what. 

Who he is is so intrinsically linked to this society and the direction it's taking that it’ll follow him wherever he goes.

He sinks deeper into his pillow. 

“You okay?” you come out of the bathroom, dressed in the matching pajama set you both got a few weeks ago—his, buried somewhere in the mishmash of your laundry clothes.

The thought sears itself into his mind, how your lives now are so intertwined.

He doesn’t answer. 

How can he ever let this go?

It aches. Again. 

The bed dips as you get into it, lifting up the comforter to snuggle into him. His back is facing you, unmoving, but your heart beats against the warmth pressed to your chest. 

You hope he feels it, how it’s for him. 

“Wanna let me in your head a little?” you wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your nose at the nape of his neck. You use the same body wash but Gojo has always retained a scent that is distinctly his own—a bit sweet like the strawberries he loves eating and something close to baby powder, as unassuming as it may be. 

His breath hitches before he starts fiddling with your fingers resting on his waist. He’s biting his lips, you know. 

“Do you still want a quiet life?” he mumbles, almost a whisper. You wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t so pressed up against him. 

You’re confused, a little shocked, but mostly confused because where did this come from?

Gojo holds his breath, waiting for your answer. He can’t turn to look at you when you do, afraid that what he’ll find—what you’ll want, won’t be something he can give you. 

“Doesn’t sound too bad, I guess.” you answer, lips tickling his skin. He can’t release his breath; it’s the answer he’s been dreading. 

There’s silence, a stretch that feels too long but only spans a few seconds. His mind plays an endless loop; the single thought that that isn’t the life he can give you.

Should he break up with you?

How is he supposed to tell—

“I like this life now better though, with you.” you squeeze him tighter, kissing the side of his neck that you can reach. 

He stiffens in your hold, but you can feel the thrums of his heartbeat. It comes slowly, but he releases the breath he was holding before relaxing a bit, something you hope is from relief.  

“You sure?” he asks, trying to sound teasing, but you hear through it. Of course you do.

“You’ll be stuck with me forever, you know.” 

You can swear he sniffled. 

“Doesn't sound too bad to me.” 

He shifts, turning to face you, and when he sees you—

—it’s like falling in love with you again, he thinks. 

The ache is still there, but it’s different, replaced by something burning, almost bursting; the feelings he can’t contain—he wants to say it: I love you; thank you for loving me, but the words are lodged in his throat and his eyes are watering, collecting like pools of rain along his lash line before spilling. 

Gojo doesn’t cry often, but when he does, you try to kiss away every hurt, every pain, that comes with it. So there, by his eyes, are your lips, soft and tender, kissing away his tears as you cradle him to your chest, letting him hug you for however long he needs to be held like this. 

It’s relief, he wants to tell you, that you don’t have to worry; these are good tears—grateful that he gets to have you in this life because you like it better. 

But there’s no pressure, there never is with you—you’ve always been like that. You don’t question him right now, trusting that he’ll tell you all about it tomorrow like he always does. 

For now, all you want to do is hold him, quiet down all the noise in his head and keep him right by your heart, loving him close.

a/n: the first and second part wouldn’t have fit in tone if i put them in one fic, so i split them! the first part is lighter and just overall good vibes if you're up for that!

thank you notes: to niku @stellamancer for listening to me and being there when i seriously needed it writing this!! & to dilly and somi my bbgirls!! @crysugu @soumies for always cheering me on, especially during the slump!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[irisintheafterglow]

but who wants to live forever, babe?

summary: you're too sweet for dabi.

wc: 1.45k

cw/tags: gn!reader but dabi calls them pretty, swearing, brief reference to blood and injury, pet names (doll, baby, pretty), dialogue driven, emotionally constipated touya todoroki

note: this is very shamelessly written because of hozier lol. hope you like it :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

You were irritating, excessively irritating. 

You woke up too early to watch the sunrise and stayed out too late to see constellations. You lingered in flower shops to touch the prettiest blooms and gave the last of your coins to street musicians. You were the first to suggest the tastiest food around and always volunteered to pay for everyone’s meals, no matter how large the group. You were thoughtful, selfless, and frustratingly kind. He wouldn’t have as much of a problem with it if you weren’t the deadliest killer-for-hire in Musutafu’s criminal underground. 

“You’re too nice,” Dabi says one night after a period of calm silence following the chaos of him crashing through your window and bleeding all over your floor. You glance at him from your spot on the windowsill, peering carefully over the construction blueprints for the following day’s assignment. He sits up with a groan, his hand grabbing the the spot on his abdomen you’d stitched up a few hours prior. “It’s infuriating.”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice, you know,” you deadpan and he scoffs, wincing when pain shoots across his side. “Had it been anyone else who broke into my apartment, I’d have to deal with a fully dead body instead of a semi-dead one.” 

“That’s exactly my point,” he argues, straining his arm to grab the cup of water on the side table. Before he can get a good grip on it, you stand and snatch it from his fingers, holding it enticingly with a hand propped on your hip. “C’mon, doll. Now, you’re just being mean.”

“I’m being nicer than you are,” you counter with an iron grip around the cup. “Calling me infuriating after I just saved your barbecued ass from dying. Didn’t your mom ever teach you manners?”

“My mom didn’t teach me jack shit,” he reminds you, making another futile swipe for the water that you easily pull away. “What do you want me to do, take it back?” You shake your head with a tired sigh, finally handing him the cup. “I’m not taking it back,” he mumbles as you sit on the edge of the bed. Against his better judgment, he doesn’t immediately flinch away when you reach out to check his bandages, your fingers brushing delicately across his skin.  

“I know you aren’t,” you murmur absentmindedly. 

“Aren’t you gonna ask why?”

“Why should I? It’s not like you’re going to tell me why you hate me,” you concede and a muscle in his jaw tenses. 

“Stop being a brat and just ask.” You resist the urge to jab your pointer finger straight into his stab wound but settle for pulling back your hand from his body, leaving him craving your touch no matter how his logic told him to resist. He has half the mind to reach out and grab your hand, part of him ready to beg you to just stay with him. But, when his palm covers the top of your hand, it sits there awkwardly until he clenches it into a fist and pulls away. He tries another tactic. “Look, all I’m saying is you shouldn’t open your window for every stranger that crawls up your fire escape.” 

“But you’re not a stranger, as much as I wish you were one.” You return to your papers at the windowsill and he’s alone in the bed again. 

“You don’t mean that,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “Tell me you’re lying.” His voice is almost too quiet for you to hear it break. Almost. 

“No,” you admit. “Of course, I don’t mean it.” You were looking at him too softly, too tenderly. Taking him in, stitching him up, and letting him rest while you kept watch was infintely more than what he deserved, especially after banging on your window and immediately passing out when you opened it. “Tell me you don’t mean what you said.”

“I do, though.” You nod and he watches your walls go up in real-time, closing yourself up so his words, good or bad, can’t get through. A million thoughts of panic race through every nerve in his body and only one command makes its way through: Fix it. 

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” Your blank expression becomes a frown and you look ready to kick him out onto the streets, or at least reopen his wound. “Let me explain first before you beat the shit out of me.”

“You have thirty seconds.”

“I think you’re too good for me,” he declares simply. He can’t see his truth make your heart stutter. “I think you’re too good for this life in general, and I think you should get out of it.” You scoff humorlessly, rolling your eyes to the side. 

“Because you hate me?”

“Because I don’t,” he corrects. You dare to meet his eye and feel your breath catch in your throat. His eyes are shining bluer than you’d ever seen them before, the scarce moonlight leaking through your window catching in his eyes just right. They’re scorching, hotter and more intense than anything his Quirk could create. “I should, but by some cruel twist of Fate, there are no words for how desperate I feel when I’m not with you, however much I despise that feeling.” In any other circumstance, you wouldn’t be able to waterboard this information out of him; yet here he was, bitterly lovesick and scowling as he told you that he’d rather burn alive than hate you. You fail to stifle a laugh and his scowl deepens. “You laughing at me?”

“A little bit, yeah,” you confess, standing to check his temperature with a hand on his forehead. It’s scathing hot and you suddenly notice the shivers he was trying to conceal. “You must be delirious if you’re admitting this all out loud, and you’re probably going to start burning up if you continue talking.” 

“I’m not delirious,” he grumbles. “And it’s normal for me to get like this when I… overdo it on missions.” Your mouth opens in understanding and he lets you touch his forehead once more to confirm the fever. “I figured you’d know this by now after all the times you’ve had to fix me.”

“Forgive me for thinking that you were becoming ill because you were forced to say one nice thing about me,” you say with a smirk, grabbing a small towel and heading to the bathroom. His voice calls after you while you turn on the cold water. 

“There you go again with your stupid sweet-talking sarcasm. You can at least acknowledge what I just confessed to you.” You chuckle again and re-approach him at the bed, draping the wet towel over his forehead and gently pushing him back onto the pillow. “You’re doing it again.” You make a split-second decision to mess with him, just for the hell of it. 

“Doing what, baby?” The petname disarms him and he blinks at you once, then twice before regaining consciousness. 

“Being too sweet for me,” he manages to force out and you let yourself smile at his obvious blush. You flip over the cloth to the cooler side and he sighs, closing his eyes in contentment. “You don’t do this with everyone, do you?”

“No, Touya,” you answer patiently and something in his chest tightens at the use of his true name. He’d forgotten he told you his true identity, most likely a result of a circumstance similar to the one you were in where he was too tired and weak to think clearly. “You are the only one I will take care of and allow to barge through my window at three in the morning. Not because I’m ‘too sweet,’ like you say, but because I care about you. Got it?”

“Mmm. Yeah,” he rasps. “Thanks, doll. You mind getting in here with me? I’ll sleep better if–”

“You don’t even need to ask,” you finish, slipping under the covers and settling against his chest. “Just stop being an asshole for a second.”

“Hey, careful on the–” 

“I’m aware of your wound, stupid,” you interject. “I’m the one who fixed it, remember?” 

“Right. Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, his lips brushing the top of your forehead. The tension in his body gradually dissipates the longer your skin is against his. “Can we sleep now?”

“If you shut up for long enough, yeah,” you joke and he lightly pinches your side. 

“I finally get in bed with you and you’re not so sweet anymore.” You snort against his chest. “What happened?” 

“I think we both have a lot to learn about each other. For now, please shut up and sleep.” 

“As you wish, pretty.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[schlattslambo]

for goodness sake | schlatt 18+

a/n: inspired and dedicated to @blaineandergel . thank you my friend

is this edited? no. was this written while im at work? yes. please enjoy. i tried to make this as gender neutral as possible. if theres anything i can do to improve on that front, please let me know! ❤️

————-

you weren’t sure when the whimsy of christmas came back, but as you stepped back from putting the final ornament on the tree, it was swirling around in the air alongside cinnamon and apple.

the tree was fluffy and looked soft from a distance. with the twinkling lights and generic ornaments, it looked even better. soft christmas music played on a record player on the mantle, where your boyfriend was fastening stockings.

christmas wasn’t much of a celebration once you grew up and moved out. it was more of an excuse to eat ham and stromboli and sneak cookie dough as your mother baked cookies whenever you visited their house. this year was different.

this year, you were spending your first christmas together with your boyfriend, a youtuber named schlatt. you’d met him through a mutual friend and hit it off instantly. at first, your relationship was secret. fans had noticed a brightness in schlatt’s eyes that wasn’t there before and began questioning it.

eventually, fans assumed that he was seeing someone. with that assumption, a bit of hate was spewed whenever someone brought up the fact. you let the hate fall off your shoulders, mainly because nobody would see this side of schlatt. the side that was wearing matching christmas pajamas and humming along to frank sinatra.

a soft, loving smile tugs at the corner of your lips as jambo waltzes in, red and green collar jingling. schlatt stands back and admires his handiwork of the mantle as you snake your arms around his waist. he smiles down at you, heart warm.

“hey there baby.” he says, turning around and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“you did a really good job with the fireplace.” you say softly, nuzzling your face against his chest.

“thank you,” schlatt replies with a smile. “i’m gonna light a fire, what do you think?”

you smile. “baby, it’s not cold enough for that.”

“and?” schlatt asks. “it’s romantic.”

you roll your eyes but allow schlatt to putz outside and grab some wood from the pile on the porch. this man absolutely loves that fireplace and would have a fire lit all the time if he could.

you pour yourself a glass of wine and watch as schlatt lights the fire. it crackles to life and he smiles proudly. he’ll never say it, but this kind of thing is what keeps him going. the domestic side of your relationship. him working hard and you just sitting there looking cute. in this case, you curled up on the couch with your wine and him cracking open a beer.

as schlatt sits down next to you, you snuggle into him instantly. his arm goes around you just as it always does and the two of you admire the decorations. the twinkling of the lights on the tree, the four stockings hung on the mantle (two for the cats, of course), and the fire all bring a warm feeling in your chest.

you both sit quietly, watching as jambo lays down in front of the fire place, squirming onto his back so he warms his belly. the scene is out of a christmas card and you couldn’t be happier.

————-

a little while later, the wine has made your cheeks flush and schlatt has switched to sipping on some whiskey. you’ve gotten through half of the bottle of white wine and you’re feeling frisky. it doesn’t matter that frank is still playing on the record player; you want schlatt and you want him now.

your hand goes to schlatt’s thigh as he scrolls on his phone, probably responding to an email. he barely notices until you start moving your hand up closer to his crotch.

“what’re you doin’?” he asks, smiling at you.

“baby,” you draw out.

schlatt peeks over at you and notices your flushed cheeks. he smiles, taking a swig of his drink before placing the glass down.

“what’s up?” schlatt asks, turning to face you. “what do you need?”

you jut your bottom lip out and peek up at him. “you.” you whisper.

your hand goes to his crotch and you begin to feel him through his pants. his cock grows hard and he allows you to touch him for a bit before gripping your wrist. if he doesn’t stop you, he’ll end up cumming in his pants like a teenager. he’s not gonna let that happen again.

“behave.” he grits.

“why?” you pout. “i need you.”

schlatt looks at you, pupils blown and cheeks flushed. he looks into your eyes, knowing that if he doesn’t stand his ground, you’re going to be a brat again. ignoring the fact that you were told to behave, you sit in schlatt’s lap.

“baby,” he sighs, breath catching in his throat as you bite at his neck, his weak spot. “we just finished decorating.”

you don’t respond verbally, only grinding your hips down. you feel schlatt’s cock harden even further under you, and you’re sure it’s pressing against his zipper. he grips your hair, making you arch your back. he bites down on your now exposed neck, eliciting a mewl from you.

“didn’t i tell you to behave?” he growls. “do you really wanna be a brat after we just decorated?”

you smile and nod. schlatt can’t help but smile himself. that’s one of the things he loves most about you (trust me, the list is long, but this is towards the top). he loves that you push his buttons and bite back.

“oh, baby,” he muses, licking along your pulse point. “you better be good.”

“make me.”

the two words leave your lips easily before you yelp as your hauled across schlatt’s lap, ass in the air.

“for goodness sake, doll.” he says as he grips your ass harshly. “i’m gonna have to do something about that.”

you lurch forward as his hand comes down onto your ass harshly, a soft moan leaving your lips. you lay there with a smile before schlatt slowly pulls your pants down, exposing your plush ass.

“can’t have any barriers.” he mumbles before beginning his punishment.

each ass cheek is slapped at least 10 times. he wants you squirming and near tears. his cock is pressed up against your stomach as you take the spankings. he doesnt stop until your ass is red and stinging. you whine and look back at him.

“n-no more.” you sob.

“are you gonna be good?” schlatt asks, yanking your hair and pulling you further back. “you gonna be good?”

you nod the best you can. “yes daddy.” you whimper.

“good,” schlatt says, gripping your stinging ass firmly. “because next time i’m going to fuck you in front of the fire place but you won’t be cumming.”

you whine at the threat, knowing full well that you’re going to be pushing his buttons again later that night and getting fucked into the floor for his pleasure only. you giggle as ‘santa claus is coming to town’ plays on the record player. the lyrics make you smile as you snuggle in schlatt’s lap.

you’re gonna be bad, for goodness sake.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Day #7 - Prompt: Free Space | Word Count: 1500 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Alcohol | POV: Steve | Tags: AU, Wrong Number, Right Person Trope, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Meet-Cute

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days. 

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore. 

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy. 

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him. 

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club. 

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough. 

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring. 

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club. 

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away. 

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

[muniimyg]

one: fuck it if i can't have us

series m.list // next

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//

It began with a sundress.

Don't get it twisted just yet because the beginning of Yoongi's downbad era didn't begin with you wearing one... It began exactly 20 minutes after meeting you.

What a joke, right?

His friend, Seok Jin, had invited a group of people to his family's summer home. The summer home is near a lake and a small town. The shops often closed just before 7PM and that's when Yoongi saw you for the first time. As the group of girls ran to greet Seok Jin and them, you lingered a moment longer, staring at the sundress on display.

Your long hair blew in the wind like a movie. Your smile was gentle and the way it turned into a laugh took his breath away. As you take one more glance at the sundress, you make your way to join the group.

As everyone mingles and continues to roam around the town, you take your time introducing yourself to everyone.

That's the first thing Yoongi liked about you.

You took your time.

Your eyes looked into his a moment more than his heart was ready for. When your hands touched, he felt electricity. His eyes widened and if he wasn't so self-aware about his delusional mindset, he swears he heard bells.

The bells.

But then again, maybe that was just your voice saying his name. That's the second thing Yoongi liked about you. He likes the way you say his name. It made him feel something. It made him feel like someone.

Perhaps thats why Yoongi woke up at 7AM the next day and bought you the sundress. He knocked on your room door and left it in the bag. Half awake, you picked up the gift and laughed.

There was no note written or exchange of words during breakfast. Instead, there was you wearing the sundress and Yoongi's stolen glances.

Then again...

Maybe it was the summer air. Maybe it was the way the sun always set so perfectly behind you. Maybe... It's just summer.

Summer exists for the hopeless romantics. For the people that love with their entire hearts and feel the warmth of the sun beyond their skin. Perhaps it's the sunshine and all the couple-coded activities or the shared ice cream cones... Maybe it's the carnivals and outdoor movies... Who knows.

Whatever it is, summer's lovebug has bit and made Yoongi sick to his stomach.

It has to be today.

Your lips meet his before a simple “hello.” 

It irks him. 

His mind goes hazy, fighting to understand why he loves the way you kiss him so much but hates it at the same time. Was this it? Was this all he was to you? How could you kiss him like you missed him and not say anything? Did you not mean this? 

Did you not mean the way your lips crashed onto his with the kind of neediness he’s grown to crave? 

Did you not mean the way you slipped your tongue in, finding his, and somehow redefining kissing for him? It’s just so perfect with you. You kiss him so good. You kiss him just right. 

Worst of all…

Did you not mean it when you intertwined your fingers with his? How you hold his hand when you two kiss.. How you hold his hand when you ride his cock, grinding, moaning, and crying over how well he fits inside you? 

Oh. 

You must mean it.

Because if you don’t… He just might die.

Nothing devastates him more than the mere idea of you not wanting him back the same way he wants you. He craves for you in ways he can't even express with words.

You've bewitched him.

As you kiss him deeper, Yoongi breaks away from you like he's breaking away from a trance. He turns his head, backed up against the bathroom sink.

Real classy, by the way. Texting him to meet you in the bathroom while your friends are all wasted downstairs. But then again, why'd he even go upstairs and follow through? He was no better than you.

While you grow confused, an ache plunges into his heart. He hates doing this to you. He hates to be the reason why you could ever be confused with his actions because all he wants is clarity between you two. He wants it out in the open. He wants it to be crystal clear.

He wants you.

Yoongi catches the way your lips twitch. The way you gulp and inch away because you feel embarrassed. It hits you. The feeling of rejection... And he knows you well enough to notice how easily your feelings consume you. A part of him wonders if you know this about yourself... Do you know how much he wants to save you from yourself? How much he wants to give you constant reassurance and undying love? How much he wants to protect you and be your everything?

He wants it so bad it's beginning to ruin him.

To Yoongi, you're perfect. 

With that being said, he still acknowledges your flaws... Like the fact that you smell like a mix of sunscreen and vodka (which he hates) or that you are the most stubborn person he has ever met in his life. That's saying a lot considering his best friends are horny overgrown fuckboys in fiance. 

Yet, you take the crown. 

You win the title.

You are the only person in this world who can break his heart.

… And contrary to popular belief, Min Yoongi's heart breaks easily.

You must know it.

It's strange to Yoongi how quickly you switch up. How he knows any slight rejection from his end hurts your feelings instantly... But you react tough and cold to endure the agony that rots inside you.

So, he hates this. He fucking hates this.

God, do you even know what he would do to swallow his pride and just be what you need? What he would do to give up his self-respect and live to please you? What he would do to simply be yours?

It takes everything inside him to stand his ground.

Shyly, you place your hand on his chest. You feel his heart beating. It beats fast and loud like it's trying to tell you something. Feeling worried, you look up at Yoongi and ask, “Everything okay?” 

Yoongi places his hands on top of yours. Your eyebrows knit together from his touch. Like instinct, you try to pull away. Instead, Yoongi keeps your hand still. He holds them, rubbing his thumb back and forth against your soft skin. It’s comforting… But it scares you, to say the least. 

“___, I can’t…” 

That’s all he manages to say. Yoongi looks at you and it’s over. He’s lost in your eyes as if it’s the first time he has ever seen anything so fucking beautiful. 

You blink. 

“Can’t what?” you chuckle, looking down at his crotch. You tilt your head, wondering if he's just talking about his erection. “Are you not hard? It’s okay, bebe. I can help with that—”

“I know you can,” he huffs, “It’s j-just… It’s not that.”

Yoongi inhales sharply, eyes softening as he exhales. He looks at you... He really looks at you.

You gulp.

“What is it then?" you ask, trying your best to keep your tone consistent. "What? ... Are you ending this? I thought third times the charm? Hahahaa… I mean, i-it’s fine if you want out… I’m just confused why you want out. I don't want out—"

Feeling embarrassed, you pause. Your rambling won't change the way he is looking at you. He's looking at you so carefully. So lovingly.. It truly feels like an ending. Again, you attempt to drop your hands. Still, Yoongi holds them. 

“Yoongi—”

He holds your hands tighter. 

“D-don’t—”

He listens.

... And it’s odd. 

For some reason, you didn’t really want him to let go. 

“Is everything okay?” you attempt one last time. You ask this, completely unsure if knowing if for his sake or for yours. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Far from it, actually. Everything is everything but okay.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you hurt? Did I do something—”

“Everything,” Yoongi begins his confession. “It’s everything but you. It’s everything but us.”

Suddenly, you realize you’ve been holding your breath. That’s what this feels like… It’s this weird anticipation that you never saw coming. But it’s here and it’s quite literally taking your breath away. 

“I’m confused—”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Yoongi confesses. His voice is gentle but stern. You hear every word crystal clear, yet you stand in complete disbelief.

“Actually, no… I am in love with you. I’ve known it for two summers now. I know it for the remaining nine months you ignore me. And I… I, uh… I d-don’t know w-what to do anymore. I’ve tried just about everything and everything…” he takes a second to pause, breathe in, and muster the courage to give you the rest of his heart.

“I'm out of ways of avoiding it. I've been trying to ignore this, and I just... I'm so tired, ___. I don't know what to do… I want every season with you.”

Your throat is dry.

Your hands tingle like they could go numb any second now.

God, there's a pressing feeling in the pit of your stomach and you aren't sure if it's because you're so nervous right now or if you just really have to pee.

Either way, you feel stuck.

You can't find any words to say and your mind runs through a million and one thoughts. From the very beginning, you always thought moments like these only existed in stories.

This couldn't be true...

This was a sick joke.

It has to be.

"Are you going through a heat stroke or something?"

He blinks at you. Realizing he's not kidding around, you put your guard up.

"W-why are you saying this?" you ask, practically choking on your words. "We're fine, Yoongi. You don't have to care about this more than we agreed to. You don't have to lie to—it’s summer! Come on! We have fun and—"

"___, I have never been so honest in my life!" he snaps, awfully offended. "You're not allowed to tell me how I feel. I just spent the past fucking nine months trying to figure my shit out—y-you... You can't tell me I figured it out wrong."

Unconvinced, you poke at his truth again. "Yoongi, seriously, are you fucking with me? This isn’t cool. You’re not funny.”

"Your birthday is my passcode. Do you think that’s cool? Am I funny for doing that?”

You snicker, “a little. Didn’t I do that? Why haven’t you changed it—"

“Take a wild fucking guess,” he hisses.

You tighten your lips. “I… I don’t—”

"I tried, ___. I tried so fucking hard for you. I swallow my pride every time you call me up. I pretend like it doesn't matter when you ignore me come September. I have done everything I possibly can to shove, suppress, and forget about my feelings... But I can't do it anymore. I don't want this anymore..."

In disbelief, you take a step back. "So what? You're done with me because you love me or some shit?"

"N-no! I'm saying I want more for us!" Yoongi hurries to explain himself. "I want us. I want everything, though. I want the morning texts. I want the dates. I want the anniversaries. ___, I want you twelve months a year—"

"And the sex?" you interrupt him, "what does this mean... For us then? For this arrangement?”

"Is that all you care about?"

A beat.

"No."

Yoongi takes a step toward you. "I can do it," he promises you. "I can fuck you all you want. I can eat your pussy out to your heart's desire. I can do and be anything and everything you want, bebe…”

"... So? What's with the confession? If nothing was going to be different—I'm still confused. Are you ending this or not?"

He laughs.

"No," Yoongi tilts his head and gives you half a smile. Your stomach twists and turns when he does this... You feel winded.

Was he always this handsome?

"Fuck, I’m so nervous my words are everywhere… No, ___. I’m not ending us. I could never do that to you... Or to myself. God knows I'd do everything to be with you... So, I'm changing the narrative. Yeah... Let's say that."

"Say what?"

Yoongi reaches to you, pulling you in by your waist. Resting your chin on his chest, you look up at him and bat your eyes. He'll fold, right? He loves it when you do this. Instead, he smirks and leans in.

Against your lips, he murmurs softly and slowly; "___, I'd do anything for you."

"Good. Then let's do this—" You reach to kiss him. “Let’s fuck.”

He stops you. “Do you not get it yet?”

You shrug. “Get what?”

Yoongi feels his heart beat faster and faster. You look at him, desperate to make it out of this conversation. Desperate to make it work—but your uneasy heart finds it easier to resist than to give in. 

So, Yoongi does it for you.

Yoongi does it first.

Giving in, he tells you; "Okay… You want to fuck? Fine. We can fuck… Under the condition that you let me be your boyfriend, because fuck it if I can’t have us.”

[lale-txt]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 (𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏: 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

♫ Middle Kids - Bootleg Firecracker

I'll be your midnight bootleg firecracker I could blow up in your hand It could be great or a disaster That's the point that I am after

✰ 𝐜𝐰: the panic attack from the prologue is continuing here for a bit! written part between the handwritten notes and SMAU parts.

⭅ back to m.list

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Everything is on autopilot; it always is when the panic takes over. The blood rushing in your ears, the air squeezed out of your lungs, the blurry tunnel vision. Your shaky hands slam a few banknotes too many on the counter but you don’t wait for the change back; you’re out the door already when a voice is calling out to you, but you ignore it. Everything in you is telling you to run.

Foolish. So damn foolish. You’ve always been like that, haven’t you? Falling in love with the idea of someone; blindly following a siren call only to turn into a wreck. It’s a familiar pain, there’s a strange sense of safety in it. Don’t fly too close to the sun, don’t get loved too much, or else you’ll burn yourself.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

Makki is talking relentlessly to you on the phone. He knows how quiet you get once the anxiety kicks in, how you can’t focus on anything but the overwhelming urge to run, how hard something as simple as breathing is when you get into your head like this. You wish he were here to hold your hand through this. You wish you never came here at all. You wish you weren’t so desperate to be loved.

Are you outside? Okay, good. Can you sit down somewhere till Bokuto picks you up? A bank maybe? Oh, wait, your location says there’s a playground right around the corner. You see it? Do they have swings? Remember in high school when Oikawa kissed the ground face first when we challenged each other who could swing the highest? You and I laughed so hard we almost had an accident. And of course Hajime won, stupid beefy monster that he is. Bet he’d still do, we should really try it out next time we’re all visiting home. Ah, there’s a vending machine? I knew that beeping was familiar. Whatcha gettin’? The same juice box like you always do? You know what we should do tomorrow when you get home? Grab some boba from the store you had pinned forever, my treat.

The tight knot in your chest is slowly unraveling as you listen to your best friend’s voice. In the background you occasionally hear Yukie munching on something, probably the vegetable chips you made yesterday. She’s less calm than Makki is, you can tell from the lack of blissful humming she usually does when eating and her hushed voice, asking Akaashi when Bokuto will get there. Despite everything, you manage to let out a small, hoarse laugh. At least it will make a great story with some water down the bridge.

“There you are.”

A warm voice, kind. Almost familiar, as if you’ve heard it in a dream before. You look over your shoulder and freeze, almost dropping your juice box. It’s not Bokuto, but the same guy from Onigiri Miya who you snapped at earlier when he asked if you were alright, while blotches of snot were dripping on your half-eaten onigiri. You feel hot shame creep up your neck, your heart rate picking up again. He tips his cap back a bit to get a better look at you under the dim light of the street lantern and you feel the urge to flee again.

“You were gone so fast, I couldn’t give you this,” he puffs, as if he actually ran after you. He holds up a brown paper bag, the logo of the shop stamped on it. “Since you didn’t seem to enjoy the onigiri you had at the shop, I packed you some more to eat when you’re feeling more like it.”

“That’s not necessary” you mutter while your eyes dart left and right, searching for a way to escape this situation. Somehow he is making your skin crawl; not because you feel like he’s gonna harm you, but because he makes you feel seen and you really, really hate that.

“Please.”

He takes a step towards you and shoves the bag into your hands, almost making you drop your phone. Makki on the other end calls out your name, sounding slightly concerned, but who wouldn’t be when their friend was approached by a stranger at night in an unfamiliar place far, far away from home?

“I don’t want it,” you say, your voice a bit more steady now. Your brows furrow and for the first time you look back at him. Somehow your panic is slowly getting replaced by irritation. Just what was his problem? “You’ll get in trouble when your boss finds out that you’re giving out stuff for free.”

This makes him laugh; a sound so clear and warm, washing away your worries for a fleeting second. How strange.

“It’s sweet that you worry, but I am the boss,” he replies with a smug smile and uses the second of surprise to firmly plant the paper bag into your hands. His fingers graze your skin and you can’t help but notice how warm they are; and you think about flying close to the sun again and it makes you want to cry.

Everything in you wants to run from this kindness. Run, before someone can notice that you don’t actually deserve it. You’re good at that, aren’t you? 

For a few heartbeats you’re too stunned to speak and the bag with onigiri weighs heavy in your hands. Hot shame crawls up your spine and your neck again, remembering how you cried at the counter and snapped at him like a hurt dog. Why would he even come after you, when you’ve already made your best effort to push him away? To get rejected again? You couldn’t even fathom to imagine.

“Hold up,” you say eventually when he’s about to turn around and leave, probably sensing your discomfort. You wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, with this faint smile playing upon his lips and his dark eyes searching yours, searching for something you could never offer and yet you can’t look away either. Your stomach is doing a funny little flip. 

From the depths of your bag you pull out the marred box of cupcakes you still have with you and hold them out for him. You don’t dare to look inside, but you can imagine they must look like a hot mess by now (probably even worse than you feel at this moment). 

“They’re lemon lavender cupcakes,” you explain and look away, rubbing the back of your neck. “After my own recipe. I baked like ten trays of them last night and those are from the best batch but I doubt they’re still any good now. The rest I left with my roommates, though honestly they’re not the best food critics and just happy when they’re being fed.”

Without noticing, your voice gets a bit more steady and excited now that you get to ramble about food, your brain pleased over the distraction. It’s the one thing that always helped with the panic. Your fingers are still fiddling, your weight shifting from one foot on the other, but your breathing is calmer now and the instinct to run is subsiding. 

“The lavender syrup I used for them is homemade, too. Tastes great with some sparkling water and mint. We grew the lavender I used on our rooftop garden. I’ll admit I’m not the best at keeping plants alive, but Akaashi does that for us thankfully, he’s amazing. I also have some tomatoes growing there, and tomato salad in this summer heat just hits differently in my opinion. Anyway, sorry for the cupcakes, I don’t know why I gave them to you, they’ve probably gone bad by now so you can just throw them out and–”

“What’cha talkin’ about? These are amazing,” the guy mutters with his mouth full, one smushed cupcake in his hand that he took a big bite out of like an apple, buttercream at the corner of his mouth. You snap out of your haze and blink at him as he takes another big bite, eyes widening and head nodding approvingly as he chews. 

He doesn’t seem like he’s lying or doing it only out of politeness–because you obviously had a very bad night–no; it’s as if he’s genuinely enjoying the food you made. Something inside of you twists again and it’s all too much. 

Thank fuck you don’t have to think about this any further, because the familiar face of Bokuto appears from around the corner, eyes lightening up when he recognizes you as well. He waves from a distance and you grab your things, hurrying past the boy who makes your tummy feel funny and towards Akaashi’s boyfriend who holds out his arms for you. You fling yourself into them for a quick hug and then quickly drag him away, unable to think about anything but putting some distance between… well, everything. 

“Was that Myaa-sam? You know him?”, Bokuto asks when he shoulders your bag, one arm around you as you walk back to his place. He’s not loosening his grip around you and you have a good idea what Akaashi must have ordered him to do: Don’t leave Y/N alone until she’s on her train back tomorrow.

“His onigiri are the best! I always tell Kashi he should bring you some when he’s here but he has no self-control and eats them all in one go. They taste best fresh anyway, you should try them while you’re here,” Bokuto rambles. You’re grateful for it, though. It’s easier than having to explain everything that happened and why your heart seems unable to stop pounding, and it helps you not to scream when really it’s all you want to do right now.

✽ 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐫𝐮𝐧…

only a handful fun facts because this chapter is long as it is heh

yes the Tokyo group can afford an apartment with a rooftop garden. no i don't know how. one of them is secretly rich i guess (probably Makki)

Kiyoomi and Y/N sang Good Luck, Babe! 31 times that night

Atsumu makes a horrible bartender but somehow no one is stopping him either

Y/N likes to scribble every fleeting thought down because otherwise she will forget them in a heartbeat

grocery store runs together are one of her favorite activities with friends

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@brithedemonspawn @notverymarley @yuminako @gigiiiiislife @wyrcan

@krissiekris @kentocalls @simp-simp-no-mi

send me an ask or dm to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Finding out Joe is lowkey into D&D 🤭

I'm answering this early because I love you and because this is now stuck in my head.

Roll For Initiative--Part 1

Series Masterlist

______________________

Your phone shakes against the table. The pencil you've had poised in your hand, eraser end singling out your DM, Jeremiah, drops as you spy the contact name. Burrowed. It's a stupid joke. One that you established with Joe back in his OSU college days, about how he seemed burrowed in, focused and lasered in on proving his move from Ohio was a good one, that he was better than just a back up.

Joe hates that he loves the nickname. You don't use it often to his face, knowing that each time you do he'll roll his eyes, even if he does smile just a little. It's the soft one, where only part of his mouth lifts up high and his eyes soften just a little.

Another text shakes the device.

Burrowed: If you're free of course....the preview cuts off the rest of the message.

"This isn't over," you shoot to Jeremiah. Your college group of friends has reunited for the next 3 days because of a wedding. Though you've managed to stay local, the group of you has spread far and wide.

Jeremiah laughs, holding his hands up. "I wait with baited breath. That important?"

You unlock your phone to read the previous messages. The entire group knows you've been dancing on the edge, waiting for your mother to call you with the results of the latest biopsy, an ongoing saga on whether or not her thyroid is fine or not.

Burrowed: I know this invitation is a little late. But I'd love to catch up, get some dinner tonight or tomorrow.

Burrowed: If you're free of course. I hope your mom's test results come back benign. Let me know if there's anything I can do.

Though you weren't there at LSU for the roller coaster ride of Joe's career, the two of you bonded deeply in your OSU days and your shared Art History course. The class seemed easy, but the constant barrage of dates, artist, cultures proved to be a tough challenger. When Joe wound up sick, a bad case of food poisoning that left him down for a day and a half, he asked you for your notes for the class he missed on the day he returned to class. That's all it took before the two of you begin your friendship--your long winded explanation for your color coded hand written notes and how you'd be happy to type them up for him if he couldn't read your handwriting and slightly not perfectly cooked food.

"Just one second," you return to Jeremiah and the table. Joe's not your mother level of important, but after the particularly challenging season you know he's been a little too inside his own head. You snap a picture of your character sheet and the dice tower, fingers flying over the keyboard. Thank god for autocorrect, you think to yourself as you watch the words flip over time and time again.

Can't do tonight. But I'm free tomorrow. Want to do 7? Pho?

The text lifts, then settles. Delivered listed below the bubble and you set the phone back down. Joe stayed in his own circle and you stayed in yours for the most part. He invited you to games, to a few parties here and there. You guys exchanged numbers, as a part of a group project, and you attempted as best as you two could to take at least one class together each school year. The kind of friendship that felt like it would always dance on something more, but never fully committed to it.

You know that your job in this wedding is just to show up. Kimberly, the soon to be first wife of the group, chose Ohio as the location given all that's here, all the drunken nights, and tears, and joys. She met her fiance at the Denny's she worked on the side during her OSU days. So while you don't have wedding duties, you are doing what you can to help pick people up from the airport, grab last minute items and such when it comes up.

You could skip the dinner tomorrow if need be as you don't want to force Joe to socialize if he's not up for it.

"Now, back to this spell," you start, turning your phone up side down again. "I think given the fact that I am a cleric is a good enough substitute for the fucking silver needed."

Jeremiah laughs. "You said you wanted to play stricter with this one-shot."

"Not that fucking strict," you huff and then review your sheet again. You had to have something else to help get your friends out of this mess. You settle for your cantrip instead and it manages to do enough damage that you can take care of two kobolds threatening your barbarian.

Your phone shakes again, but you don't check it immediately. You're too enthralled with the throw of the dice, spewing witty one liners that you know in any other setting you'd never be able to come up on your own. In the end, your party's left haggard and bloody but with the estranged and hidden daughter of the Ice Queen returned to her people.

"Fuck you, Jeremiah," your party roars, high from the victory of the short campaign.

"Fuck that wizard too!" you laugh. He was a formidable opponent but particularly nasty about your deity of choice and for that, you cannot forgive the old man.

Jeremiah laughs, clapping all the same. "Proud of you guys."

Clean up is relatively short, a shuffling of dice back into bags and papers shuffled together. Your group shuffles out of your apartment with multiple round of hugs and thanks for you hosting the one-shot. Tomorrow and the day after will be a mad dash trying to get everything ready for the wedding on Saturday, but you're thankful that you were able to squeeze in just a little bit of time like this again.

You're especially thankful for the eight seater dining room table that you managed to snag off the curb too. You take the two bags of trash out--pizza boxes, cans of sodas, paper plates, and paper towels stuffed into the bags.

When you settle back into the apartment, flopping onto the couch, you read through the text messages left behind. There's a text message from your favorite clothing brand that you thought you unsubscribed from but apparently you hadn't, a text from Joe, but none from your mother.

Burrowed: I didn't take you as the type for a cleric. Assumed you'd like the chaos of a rogue better. Tomorrow at 7 works. Pho is perfect. See you then!

Your mouth drops. What the fuck did Joe know about D&D? He'd never mentioned it to you previously, even though you definitely mentioned your ventures into the tabletop game back in undergrad. You immediately tap on his contact, before tapping at the icon for a phone call.

"Everything okay?" Joe asks when he answers.

"What the fuck do you know about Dungeons and Dragons?" you return. There's no time for pleasantries or to even answer his own question.

"I know a little something about a lot of things," Joe laughs.

"No, no, you don't get to Joe Cool me and coyly answer. When did this happen?"

"Tell me first if you actually like playing a Cleric?"

"That was in homage to my first ever character, Zebela. I played as her great-great-great-great-great grandchild tonight."

"Uh, I forgot about Zebela. Dwarf right?"

"Yes," you hiss out. "Now when did you pick all this up?"

His laughter is deep and soft. "When you first talked about it, I had another friend of mine into it. I asked him some questions. Listened to you rant about it. Dunno. It sounds interesting. How'd the adventure tonight go?"

"You are blowing my mind, Joseph. You know about D&D." You laugh as you speak but recount to Joe about the perils, the tight wins. He hums and interjects with "ouch!" when you talk about the damage you took. He cheers when you talk about the damage you dealt.

"Sounds like a hell of a time," he returns by the time you finish.

"It was. Did you eat yet today?"

"Yeah, grabbed lunch with Tee and Ja'marr. I'm debating if I really want what was meal prepped or if I want to make a sausage biscuit, like you taught me."

You snort. "That's a struggle meal. You're not struggling anymore."

"I think if I eat any more fucking chicken I'm going to start laying eggs."

"Bawk, bawk," you tease. "Save me a dozen though. Eggs are getting expensive."

Joe snorts, the sound crackling over the receiver. "Will do."

"Have you ever thought about playing? D&D I mean?"

"Yeah, I've thought about it. O-line would absolutely never let me live it down, but I don't really know anyone to hosts it or how to help us set up and stuff."

"I could do it," you offer. Though Joe and you still kept pretty separate worlds, you'd be happy to help. You hadn't DM'd much yourself. You dabbled once and managed to do it well enough. The thing you'd have to work on is building a story that would keep most of the boys focused.

"Let's marinate on it and talk more tomorrow. DM'ing seems like a big ask on your part."

"We can marinate." There's a sizzle in the background, the sound of something hitting a hot pan. "You literally have a chef," you laugh at the sound.

"Fucking sue me. I wanted a biscuit! It's the off season now. I'm allowed to indulge just a little."

"By all means," you laugh, "indulge."

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I Know You? Part 9

Synopsis: You get kidnapped. It’s Red Hood’s Fault. He doesn’t save you.

Note: alrighty, the votes for a darker chapter won at about 60%, which I am lowkey grateful for because I had half this chapter already written and I did not want to rewrite it. This does have themes of kidnapping, sexual assault, violence, gore, and death. Everything, aside from the kidnapping, are in the cut areas with ---- as a separator. Also for the sake of the plot, we are going to see a divide between Red Hood and Reader and it’ll all start from this chapter forward.

Warnings: Kidnapping, Sexual Assault, Violence, Gore, Death

Masterlist

A month passes by quickly, mild late fall turns into an ice cold winter. While you had been irked when Red Hood called you a tourist, he had been right. Jason planned multiple trips all across the city to see things you hadn’t in the three years you had been there. Astounding gothic architecture, beautiful museums, and picturesque sunrises on the bay. Every week he would take you to do at least one thing but there still hadn’t been a conversation about whether or not these were dates. You didn’t want to ask for fear of embarrassing yourself.

You had to mentally replace your jar with something bigger when you noticed Red Hood was missing his signature leather jacket the next time you saw him—Jason’s brown jacket resting against the back of your couch. You hated how your mind drew similarities and coincidences between them, but you just couldn’t, you wouldn't believe they were the same person. Jason treated you kind of like a princess. He was always prepared with whatever you needed with kind words and a handsome grin. Red Hood was the opposite, haphazardly showing up and quickly disappearing, a wicked smirk on his lips as he teased you about one thing or another. They just could not be the same person. Red Hood had his jacket back after you had returned Jason his. You ignored it.

In the attempts to distract your over-imagination, you would take up some spare shifts at Jackie’s. As winter drew in the sun started going down sooner, meaning you ended up walking in the dark quite a bit. Today was the first time you stayed til closing. Walking home at 10 o'clock at night in Gotham City probably wasn’t your best plan.

It’s a short walk! You had argued with yourself. You should call Jason, another part of you offered. It’s fine, nothing bad will happen, the ignorant part of you said. And you listened to her like an idiot. You were about a block from your apartment when you heard footsteps following you. A number of regrets run through your head at the sight of another person across the street walking at the same pace. You pick up speed and then abruptly stop as someone else steps out of an alley in front of you. You pull your purse off your shoulder. You were bound to get mugged eventually.

“Listen, man, you can just have it. I don’t need it.” You say offering up the bag.

A coarse laugh escapes the man in front of you, “we’re not here for the bag, sweetheart”

You feel a disgusted shiver shake down your spine. Sweetheart was Jason’s pet name for you and to hear it come out of someone else’s mouth and with such a crude tone made you want to throw up. The implication of his words filter through your mind and the bile does begin to grow in your throat. Panic rises in your mind as you try to remember what you're supposed to do. Scream something, but what was it? Any self-defense videos you have seen escape your mind. What do you do? What do you do? Instinct takes over and you turn around to run, unsuccessfully. You run right into someone, and they grab you by the collar of your jacket. You wack haphazardly at their arms, dropping your bag. They don’t even shift so you kick. You hear a grunt of pain, but your victory is short-lived when they suddenly shove you back against a building. Your back aches at the impact but you're going to go down fighting. You push off that wall with balled fists but you’re harshly pushed back against the wall.  The back of your head flairs up in pain and your world goes black.

Jason was a little disappointed when he got to your apartment that evening. In the months that he’s been coming around you always had your window unlocked during your designated time slot. Not this time. You’ve locked him out and he didn’t know why. He peeked in the window as best he could. Strange. You kept fairy lights in your living room, and he noticed that they were always on when he came around. It gave a nice comforting glow to the space. They were not on right now. It could be that you were sleeping but something felt… wrong.

Please don’t hate me for this, he thinks as he starts to slowly break open the lock on the window. Your silent alarm would go off and your phone would start to ding so it should wake you. Maybe this is just a good test of that janky alarm system he got from Roy. The window popped open easier than he would have liked but he had better skills than most casual burglars. He opens the window and steps into the living room, listening. Not a sound.

She’s just sleeping, he tells himself, she’s fine. He creeps to your open bedroom door and finds your bed perfectly made, no sign of you. A rock of worry hits Jason square in the chest. He’s quick to search the rest of your apartment like he would find you hiding in a closet. Where is she?

Jason doesn’t hesitate to start a search. You rarely go anywhere unless you're with him so you must be working, or you were. It was nearly midnight, there was no way Jackie’s was open. He’s out your window and following along your usual route, scanning for any sign of you. He thinks you would have known better than to walk in the dark, that you would at least call Jason, so you were on the phone with someone. He would have come and picked you up or something. You could not have been that stupid. He nearly misses it in his rush to get to Jackie’s hoping beyond hope that you were still there but pushed up against a building he sees something. It could be nothing. The streets here aren’t exactly trash-free but he stops to check it out anyways. He stoops to pick it up and his heart drops to his stomach. It was a bag. It was your bag. Where were you?

That was the exact question you were asking yourself when you woke up. It smelled musty and gross. Your head was pounding, and a continuous ache throbbed from your back. It took you a moment to remember what happened. You go through a quick body checkup. Head? Hurting. Back? Also hurting. Wrists? Burning from the tight rope. A flash of gratitude runs through your body when you find nothing else hurts. They hadn’t done anything to you other than kidnapping. You finally make the painful effort of opening your eyes. You wince and squint despite the dim setting you're in. You’re in some kind of warehouse. You think you might hear the ocean but that could just be whooshing in your ears. It takes you a moment before your eyes adjust and you notice a man watching you. He’s short and fat, in a fancier suit than you think is necessary for the setting. A monocle sits over one of his eyes.

“Finally awake? I’m sorry for the unpleasantries,” He says voice a nasally thing, “I usually try to treat my guests with more class than this.” He steps more into the light in a strange waddle.

“But I had to make sure my men got you before your boyfriend showed up.” Your brain glitches at his words. Boyfriend? You don’t have a boyfriend.

“Now we can talk in peace.” He continues with a grin, and you wish he would stop, teeth slightly sharp and rotting, “Now I need you to tell me where his hideouts are.”

You’re quiet, trying to take in all the information you can through the pain in your head.

“What?” is all you can muster.

“Don’t make us do this the hard way, girl. I just want information on your boyfriend, then I’ll let you go.” He grins at you again and you don’t think he's going to let you go.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” He cackles in a strange clattering way that you think you would laugh at in different circumstances.

“You sure about that. Think harder. You two have been spending an awful lot of time together.” He offers. Only one thought filters through your head. Jason.

 You realize in a span of ten seconds that you don’t know some important things about Jason, like what he does for a job. Have you been hanging out with a criminal? Wait, he’s still not your boyfriend.

“He’s not my boyfriend. Actually, I don’t even know that we're dating.” You admit and then you continue, mouth getting ahead of your mind, “I mean we’ve definitely been on something you would call a date, but you could also call it a hangout between friends. We just never talked about it, and I think it might be too late to talk about it. What if he doesn’t see me like that? Like he wants us to just be friends but then it'll be awkward because now he knows that I don’t think of him as just a friend. That would be terrible. I don’t want to lose him. He's so nice to me.”

Throughout your rant the man's face drops from his proud grin to an irritated look.

“Quiet, girl!” he snaps, and you shut your mouth, “Where is he hiding out?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know where he lives but he doesn’t know where I live either so it's okay.”

“But he does know where you live.” A look of confusion crosses your face, “He’s been coming into your window.” The man offers and your face grows even more confused. Maybe it’s the headache but you're not sure you're talking about the same person.

“Who are we talking about?” you finally ask.

“Red Hood! We’re talking about Red Hood, girl. Now tell me where his safe houses are.” He says exasperated, waddling closer.

“I don’t know, honestly.” You lean back in the chair you’re tied to. “He’s definitely not my boyfriend. I don’t even know who he really is, he just eats my food.”

You notice how cold it is, your jacket missing, as the man stares at you with a disgusted grimace.

“Please I don’t know anything just let me go.” It’s a last plea because you're pretty sure you're going to die tonight but at least you can say you tried. Apparently, he takes your word for it.

“You're dumber than you look, girl. Walking around at night alone, feeding a vigilante. Shame for a pretty face like yours to go to waste.” He waddles over to a door and knocks on it. The man from earlier appears in the doorway.

“She’s knows nothing, you twat. Do what you want with her but make sure she’s with the fishes before the night’s over.” At his words, your panic from earlier in the night returns. You start to squirm trying to tug yourself free and ignore the painful aches of your body. The stubby man leaves, and you're stuck with the man of your nightmares.

-----Sexual assault, gore, and death coming up-----

 A wolfish smirk appears on his lips as he pulls out a knife. You want to scream and cry and throw up. But most of all you want to live. You think about Jason and how he was supposed to take you to the oldest ice cream parlor in Gotham. You have to live. Survive. You repeat the mantra in your head as the man moves behind to cut the rope. Survive. Survive. You have to survive.  The moment the rope loosens you’re out of the chair scrambling to the still-open door. You hear the man make a shocked sound. You run down a hallway and pause just for a moment as the hallway splits. It was just a moment, but it was too long. The man crashes into you pushing you up against the wall. A yelp escapes you, the ever-present pain in your body erupting. He turns you around and you gag at the predatory smile he wears.

“They always run.” He says and you feel him start to grope you with his hand not holding the knife. A sob of despair breeches your throat and then your mantra returns to your mind. Survive. Survive. You have to survive. You were not going to die like this, and you were not going to let him touch you like this either. You press your head into the wall as far as you can ignore the pain of it and jerk your head forward. A new pain blooms across the bridge of your nose but the man groans and trips backward on his own feet. Spots dance in your eyes but you hear the clatter of the knife from his hold. Survive. Survive. You spot the knife on the ground and dive for it. Your fingers wrap around it just as the man wraps his hand around your ankle and yanks. Your knuckles scratch on concrete but you maintain your hold on the knife.

“You little bitch” his grip moves up your calf and you follow your instincts. You turn and stab blindly with the knife. A scream erupts from him, but you don’t let your mind think beyond survive, survive. You stab madly. It takes you a moment before you realize he’s not moving anymore. Your eyes are blurry. You hadn’t noticed you started crying. Your throat feels sore, like you had been screaming. Your eyes clear for just a moment to see what’s left of the man's chest. You turn quickly fighting another gag. Survive, survive. You had to get out of here. Your hand tightens on the knife, and you ignore the warm, slick sensation now in between your fingers. You move quickly jogging down the hallway as you look for a way out. You don’t hear anyone else in the building. You make it to a large open area and see a door.

Please be a way out.  You walk as you feel your adrenaline drop. The pain in your body returns tenfold. You keep reminding yourself that you are not safe yet. That you have to get out. You remind yourself why. Your ice cream with Jason, Darla was going to bring her granddaughter for you to meet, along with a lineup of things that you wanted to do. You had to live. You feel a hand on your shoulder and your adrenalin spikes again. Your grip tightens on the knife, and you turn and swing it. Your wrist is caught in a solid grip before it can impact anything. Not like this. You scream as you try to pull away from whoever was holding you. Your body drops hoping the dead weight will make them let go. You feel yourself sob with exhaustion as you continue to fight. Then you hear your name repeated a few times until it becomes clearer to ringing ears. Slightly robotic in nature, your blurry eyes finally make out a shiny red shape.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you. Your safe” he repeats over and over again. Red Hood.  A sob of relief escapes you and your body sags against him, all the fight gone in a matter of seconds. You find no comfort in pressing your face to his chest, cold hard armor the only thing greeting you.

Jason had been a flurry of commotion once he had found your purse. He called Barbara, not even checking for a private line (the whole family had unintentionally listened in), and begged her to find you. She already knew your usual route (of course) and she threaded through the camera in the area. You had left Jackie’s around 10 o’clock and she was able to follow you for about a block from your apartment before you vanished. She couldn’t find anything suspicious in the area. She asked Jason if your phone had been in the bag. Luckily it wasn’t. While Jason had impatiently paced waiting for Oracle to do her work, Steph hopped into the conversation.

“She’ll be okay, Red Hood. We’ll find her.”

Jason had only offered a scoff at the comment to hide the fear he felt.

“Keep us posted. We’re ready to help if you need it.” Jason was shocked to hear Bruce’s voice over the coms. Despite the tense relationship with his father, Jason feels a sense of calm knowing his family was as ready to save you as he was.

Barbara had pinged your phone only a few miles north of where he was, over by the docks on the river. An old, abandoned warehouse district. She said that you or at least your phone wasn’t moving, and he was quick to head in that direction. She reminded him that the entire family was on call in case he needed help before he silenced his coms. He followed none of his years of trained procedures for something like this. Didn’t check the outside for anybody lurking and didn’t get a scan of the building to know how many people there would be. He just needed to find you. If you were hurt or worse. He didn’t know what he would do with himself. He heard the sound of a vehicle leaving and quickly found a broken window. He slipped in and found himself in what could only be the “offices” of whatever the warehouse used to be. He pulls out his guns ready for a fight and slowly follows one of the hallways. Instead of a fight, Jason is shocked to find a dead man. The chest ripped open; from a knife Jason decides. Whoever did this didn’t have much thought in it. Blood splattered across the wall. Jason only hoped that whoever did this hadn’t gotten to you.

He continues on the path he was on and quickly finds he’s following the blood trail from the body. Random drops of blood on the floor, likely dripping from the knife, held down not up. Whoever had it wasn’t planning on using it on the current path. He keeps going and then pauses before coming to a doorway. There was someone, breathing heavily and moving away from the doorway. He leans around it and sees someone slowly moving across the open floor of the warehouse. He can see the knife hanging in their hand. He takes his time creeping closer to them when he recognizes their shirt. You’d worn it when Jason had taken you to the art museum in downtown Gotham. You practically glowed in the dimming rays of sunset when you left the museum. It was you.  You were alive and you were okay. Following his instincts he settles a hand on your shoulder. There was no hesitation as you suddenly swung the knife at him. He finds your eyes wild and watery as he easily catches your wrist. You scream and cry and try to pull away from him. His heart breaks and he’s quick to try and calm you. He wishes he could take off the helmet but he’s pretty sure that if he let go of your arm you would stab him.

“You're okay, everything is all right. You're safe now.” He speaks his words as calmly as he can with the helmet, words he wishes he had heard in moments of panic like this. Your sobbing slows to a blubber as you collapse against him. He hears the knife you were holding drop to the ground and he lets go of your wrist and holds you until your breathing slows to a less panicked pace. His hands leave you for just a moment as he pulls off his helmet. He drops it to the ground and his hands settle on your back and head. You wince but don’t make a sound aside from quiet sniffling. His hand gently moves from the back of your head to your cheek as he gently coaxes you from his chest. His heart breaks when he sees your face. There’s blood running out of your nose and you're still crying.

“Did they hurt you? Is anything broken?” He asks concerned. You don’t respond, just stare at him. He tugs you away from him, but your hands cling to the sleeves of his jacket. He scans over your body and finds a lot of blood. You don’t seem limp or woozy only in shock. But that was a lot of blood. His eyes drop to the blood-covered knife then to your bloody hands gripping his sleeves like your life depends on it. He thinks about the mutilated man in the hallway and connects the dots. The deep, dark part of Jason that he had been trying to bury for years crept up as a sense of pride surfaced in his chest. You killed that guy. He probably tried to do something to you, and you killed, you fought. He was proud of you for it.

That pride disappears as he looks at your face. There’s blood splattered across your face and an empty look in your eyes that makes him worry. You’re in shock. He understands what that can do to a person and he hates that it’s happened to you. His arm slides over your shoulder and he slowly coaxes you to stand and keep walking to the door. He speaks softly, “We should get you out of here, okay? Nothing bad is going to happen anymore. You're okay.”

---End of warnings area---

You’re still shaking as he pulls you outside. You barely become conscious of how cold you are. The sticky wetness on your skin only makes it that much colder. You feel warm fabric cover your shoulders and then Red Hood is holding your face. You feel something move across your skin, scratchy and rough. He talks as he rubs gently, first your face, then your hands. His words are muffled, and you feel like you're underwater and you just want to sleep. Your eyes leave him for a moment when you see flashes of red and blue.  Your mind comes back into focus as you hear him say, “-have to leave, okay?”

“What?” You ask and you see a flash of relief move over his features.

“I have to leave. The police are almost here. Commissioner Gordon will make sure you get home safe, okay?” He says slowly though he shifts away from you slightly. Panic curls in your throat again.

“Please, don’t leave.” You choke out as your hands tighten on him. “Don’t leave me alone.” You plead. Your eyes water and you feel so sick of crying. He comes closer again and your nails dig harshly into his arms.

“I have to go. The police aren’t friendly with me, and I don’t want you to get hurt more than you already are. I’ll be watching, okay? I just won't be right here.” He tries to placate you but you're not listening.

“don’t leave me, please. Please don’t leave me here” you repeat. You can see the hesitation on his face but still pries your hands off of him.

“You going to be okay. I’ll be watching.” He repeats as he steps out of your hold. You weep and pull the jacket he’d placed on you tighter around yourself. You blink and he’s gone.

Moments later a few police cars pull up followed by an ambulance. A woman gently guides you over to the ambulance where an EMT does a thorough check of you. You barely respond, heart heavy with he left me. You have a shock blanket wrapped around you. You sit on the back bumper of the ambulance as you watch police officers move in and out of the building. Evidently, the docks just outside the warehouse had been a known drop site of bodies connected to the Penguin, the man that had questioned you, but they never had any evidence. An older man with a bushy mustache sat next to you for a minute before he finally spoke to you.

“I’m Commissioner Gordon. I’d like to get your statement.” You turn your head to glance at him. You think you're supposed to know the name but you can't remember why at the moment.

“You were taken as part of a human trafficking job and caused some problems, so Penguin had you brought here to be dumped.” He continues and your brows furrow. “Penguin came to oversee the matter, and you saw him, correct?” you nod hesitantly at the only question he’s asked you. “Penguin left and Ted Jackson, known rapist and murderer, started to drag you out to the docks. Red Hood intervened and killed Jackson.” You open your mouth to correct him, but he puts up his hand. “Jackson had no weapons on his body but was severely mutilated,” the knot of bile surges in your throat again, “The state of his body would leave the perpetrated in jail, despite the state of Jackson’s criminal record. Red Hood is already wanted on multiple accounts of murder. You’re a victim, Miss, not a criminal.” You realize that the commissioner is telling you what your official statement is. “You were present at the killing, that’s why you're covered in blood.” You glance down at your shaky hands, only light streaks of blood left. “Red Hood killed Jackson and brought you out here and left before the police arrived. Do you agree that this statement is true and correct as best you can?”

You stare at him and the commissioner tips his head at you meaningfully.

“Yes,” you finally say. The commissioner nods contently.

“The paramedics say you have a mild concussion and bruising to your nose. Overall, you’ll be alright. Do you have someone we can call to take you home?”

“Jason,” you say before you can think about it.

“You have a last name?” he asks as he stands.

“I…” you stammer.

“It’s okay. I'll have someone find a number. I'm going to go talk through some things with the officers. If you need anything else, I’ll be over there.” You follow the line of pointing to a cluster of cops and nod. As he leaves, he pulls out his phone. You think you hear him say Babs, but your mind brushes the strange name to the side.

Additional Note: after a few read throughs myself I realized how heavy on descriptions this chapter was with not a lot of dialogue. Sorry about that. Since this was the first time I’ve written something dark, I would love any critiques or comments on things I did good or bad at, please. No Pressure though. Thank you for reading and the next chapter is a lot of intimate comfort, so I can’t wait to finish that one up.

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @tetsuroubaby, @mrskreideprinzessin, @moonluna1215

[eloriis]

HEATHER - lando norris

in which. . heather was everything lando wanted and y/n could never be her, no matter what she did — ln4 x f! reader

- inspired by heather | conan gray

warnings : body image issues(?), slight mentions of being intoxicated, let me know if there’s anything else!

notes: first fully written post and angst, kinda scared about how it’s going to do cuz i haven’t written in so long.

i hate angst or sad endings so i have no idea what got me to actually go through with this idea 💀💀

type : written ⋆ word count : 1.3k

i still remember the third of december, me in your sweater

i was currently in lando’s living room scrolling through my phone when lando walked into the room and sat down beside me, pulled out his phone, and asked, “what do you want for lunch? i was planning on ordering some food.��� i put my phone down and looked into his beautiful aquamarine eyes, which were already looking into mine. “anything works really." he glanced down at his phone and looked up. “uhhh you in mood for some... pasta??"  i gave him a little nod and smiled, “yeah sure! that sounds great.”

you said it looked better on me than it did you

he quickly placed the order and looked at me with a bright smile. “the order has been placed, my lady.” giggling, i replied, “oh how kind of you, sir." he looked at me and quickly smiled when he saw what i was wearing. “my sweater looks so much better on you than me, pretty girl." a small blush rose in my neck. “thank you, lan” i quietly replied with a smile.

 only if you knew how much i liked you

i felt a small weight on my heart after the compliment. i knew he meant it as a friendly gesture, but i couldn’t help but want it to be something more intimate. i wanted to tell him just how much i loved him and wanted him to myself, but i knew.

 but i watch your eyes as she walks by

i knew how you felt about her, how you thought she was the prettiest girl in the world, and how she had the prettiest smile and the most gorgeous eyes. how could i not? with all the times you’ve ranted about her to me?

 what a sight for sore eyes

everyone knew how much she meant to you; anyone with half a brain and eyes would. your eyes were practically heart-shaped whenever she was around.

 brighter than the blue sky

it was almost as if she were the walking sun. whenever she was around, your bright blue eyes would somehow become even brighter and bluer.

 she’s got you mesmerized while i die

i couldn’t help but feel like i was drowning in my own feelings and thoughts whenever I saw her or heard her name. she’s got you on your knees for her, the same way you have me on my knees for you.

 why would you ever kiss me?

it was 2:47 a.m on a saturday night, and you were in my apartment after a night of partying too hard. i left you to freshen up and got you some water, when i came back and watched you gulp the water down, i felt like this was the closest i could ever get to calling you my boyfriend. you suddenly stood up and walked closer to me. my eyes widened as you were walking closer and closer to me. you suddenly held my right cheek and whispered, “you’re so pretty, i could kiss you right now.”

i shouldn’t have done it, i shouldn’t have told you to do it. i knew it would kill me the next day, but i had finally had the chance to know how you feel. how could i ever pass that up?

 i’m not even half as pretty

standing in front of the mirror, i could tell why he liked her. she had the most gorgeous hair, the perfect body, the sweetest voice, and really, really pretty eyes.

 you gave her your sweater, it’s just polyester

she walked into the room wearing your sweater, which fit her perfectly. it was not very baggy but not very form-fitting either, maybe it’s because of her body. the worst part wasn’t that she looked so comfortable in it, but the way you looked at her, like she had hung the stars and the moon in the sky.

 

but you like her better

 wish i were heather

all i want is one day. just one day in her body to know how it feels to have you love me. that’s all i ask for.

 watch as she stands with her, holding your hand

her hands fit perfectly into yours; they looked as if Aphrodite herself had made each of your hands with the other in mind.

 put your arm ‘round her shoulder, now i’m getting colder

i turned around excitedly to look at lando as our song started playing in the background of the club, only to come face-to-face with another scene that had my heart cracking even more and another night successfully ruined.

he was talking to some of our mutual friends, which wasn’t even the worst part. he had his arm around her shoulder, holding her securely as she started laughing about something lando had said. a shiver went down my spine, and the chill i felt was nothing compared to how my heart was hurting.

 but how could i hate her? she’s such an angel

“oh my god, i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to intrude.” i was just in the restroom, touching up my makeup and talking to my best friend over the phone, when she walked into the restroom. she looked like she was genuinely surprised and did not mean to walk in.

i almost felt bad for trying to antagonize her.

but then again, kinda wish she were dead as she

walks by

all the feelings of guilt had disappeared when i was back where i was a few weeks ago. standing beside lando, talking to him when she walks into the room, stealing his attention as always.

 what a sight for sore eyes

i could feel my eyes tearing up; i couldn’t make a scene. not here in public. i quickly excused myself to the restroom and walked towards it with my head down while taking shaky breaths every ten seconds to try and calm myself.

 brighter than the blue sky

it happened again; your eyes suddenly became so much brighter and more vibrant when you looked at her. it hurts. i wish i could just tell you how much you mean to me and how i want to be more than just your friend, but no, i can’t do this to you or myself. i can’t make you choose between me and her when i know that you’ll always choose her.

she’s got you mesmerized while i die

i wish that you were under a spell—a spell that makes you look at her as if she’s the only person who matters. a spell that makes you want her and not me. i also wish that maybe, if she does have you under a spell, i could learn it too. just for one day, just to know how it feels to be your everything.

 why would you ever kiss me?

that night haunts me. your lips on mine were the best thing i’ve ever felt. it was short, but it will always be the most precious moment to me. the ghost of your lips keeps me awake at night, hoping that maybe you'll come again, for another kiss that i can treasure. but i know it will never happen, not when you have her to go to.

i’m not even half as pretty

i would never be like her, no matter how much i workout, what I eat, or what I wear. i could never compare myself to her. she’s the sun while i’m just another star somewhere in the sky.

 you gave her your sweater, it’s just polyester

i saw your sweater again, a different one. it was the one i gave you on your birthday last year, the one you loved so much and promised to never let anyone touch it or take it away from you. i guess that promise means nothing to you, just like the many other ones that we shared.

 but you like her better

no matter what you do or say, i know that i’ll always be second to her. i don’t have to hear it from anyone; i can see it as clearly as broad daylight.

 

i wish i were heather.

[spicycinnabun]

Good Omega

written with @batty4steddie for day 7 of @steddie-week! we used prompt ‘free space’ which we chose to fill in with rockstar!steddie and omegaverse. 🤘

wc: 19k+ ⋆ rated: e ⋆ tags: a/b/o dynamics, band au, friends to lovers, omega!eddie, alpha!steve, praise kink ⋆ tw: implied past sa, negative self-talk, smut ⋆ read on ao3

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“Damn it!”

Eddie glanced up. He leaned away from the mirror where he had been carefully smudging smoky black along his eyes. He spun around on his stool. “What ails thee, Sir Gareth?”

“My AntiScent,” Gareth answered, putting his head in his hands. “I fucking ran out. I thought I still had some left.”

Ah.

Eddie stood and walked over to the red leather sofa. With his mammoth spiked platforms, he towered over the other omega.

“Been there.” Eddie placed a hand on Gareth’s shoulder and squeezed it, briefly scent-marking him to try and dissipate some of the distressed stink he was giving off.

Over time, they’d developed a sort of familial relationship as the only two omegas in the band. Eddie had gained the little brother he’d never had, and Gareth had gained a hot mess older brother who helped him survive the Alpha-dominated entertainment industry.

Eddie went back to his station and grabbed his kit, digging through it. “Fret not. You can use mine.”

“You sure?” Gareth asked, lifting his head hopefully. “Don’t you need them?”

Eddie tossed him the box. “Nah, not my first rodeo without ‘em.”

It was actually a relief. Eddie hated wearing blockers, which they all knew since he was frequently bitching about it. The closer he was to his cycle, the more of them he needed to keep his scent contained. They itched like a motherfucker and made him feel contained. It was like wearing a prison, like chains with locks wrapped tightly around his body—and not the fun, kinky kind.

While Gareth peeled and stuck on the patches, Eddie finished getting ready with a bit more pep in his step, fogging the room in a cloud of hairspray. 

The stage manager popped her head in to tell them they’d be ready for them in about half an hour. Eddie groaned, spinning in place and vibrating with pre-show energy. He wanted to go now.

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Eddie’s scent was clouding the dressing room unexpectedly when Steve walked in. Usually, hairspray was the only thing he could smell. Eddie hadn’t put on his blockers yet.  

Steve’s mouth suddenly became very dry. He hadn’t talked much that day, trying to preserve his voice as best he could before the show.

He grabbed a water from the mini-fridge to hydrate before trying to settle on the couch. He couldn’t sit comfortably in his jeans, so he lounged back carefully in hopes he wouldn’t pop a button. They weren’t leaving much to the imagination. Everyone could see the outline of his cock and knot in them.

Steve had gone all out on his outfit for their last show. With his short-sleeved, spandex gold button-up that was almost completely open, he was displaying an impressive amount of belly and chest hair, even for an Alpha.

He hadn’t eaten much, either. His pants were way too tight to handle any food. It certainly didn’t ease his hunger with Eddie’s scent filling the room. He smelled like an extremely buttery and spicy Snickerdoodle.

Steve was effectively distracting Eddie from his tantrum of impatience. It was their last show of the tour, so they’d all done just a little bit more than usual. They had to say goodbye with a bang. Always did. Steve was certainly gussied up. He was glistening in metallic gold. Fuck, he looked delicious.

“I said it already, but I’ll say it again: really love that color on you, sweetheart,” Eddie said, flopping over the arm of the sofa dramatically, his head landing directly in Steve’s lap as his legs kicked in the air. He looked up, grinning with all his teeth. “You look like a gold medal.”

It was difficult not to close his eyes and inhale deeply, not to pull Steve’s head down and thrust that sweet mouth onto his. Steve was half a week away from rut, just like Eddie was from his heat, and he could feel it thrumming between them like a live wire.

Eddie had lots of practice controlling himself around Steve and his ludicrously tempting scent. Sometimes—most times—Eddie swore it was made for his nose. Steve, his straight Alpha bandmate and best friend. Friend only.

Years of playing together, touring together, and long nights sleeping on the bus in their bunks only a few inches away from each other taunted him. Eddie had heard Steve jerk off more times than he could count. Had secretly gotten off with him and felt ashamed in the morning. Even more ashamed the time he’d called out Steve’s name with a one-night stand who definitely hadn’t been named Steve. (After that, he'd asked his partners to gag him.)

Steve knew Eddie’s scent well but didn’t get to fully experience it often. It was going to be all over him now. He was used to Eddie’s antics and closeness. He always enjoyed it. He loved omegas; they were so sweet, and they loved being close to Alphas, too. It truly hurt their feelings when Alphas weren’t receptive to their affections.

It was easy being friends with Eddie. He was encouraging and thoughtful, and he always made Steve feel good. Hearing the compliment made him smile really big. He was getting pumped.

Steve had only ever had one other male omega friend in his life: Tommy. He’d fallen in love with Steve, but unfortunately, it hadn’t been mutual, and they’d ended their friendship for good during their senior year of high school.

Steve had only officially met Eddie when he’d decided to audition for his band. He’d seen The Mind Flayer at The Hideout dozens of times before he’d seen their flier looking for a lead singer. They had been purely heavy metal and instrumental until Steve had joined. He’d always thought about singing, but it wasn’t something his parents—well, his dad—had encouraged.

Steve and Eddie had hit it off right away. Eddie was passionate about music and sharing his opinions. Even their clashes created beautiful musical harmony. Steve pushed slower songs with better beats and even some piano ballads, and Eddie pushed him to be louder, more emotional, and to really lose himself in the lyrics.

Steve didn’t care that Eddie was an omega. He was so talented with the guitar and had written some gorgeous songs. Steve was in awe of his style and energy.

Every fiber of Steve’s being had wanted to be a part of the band. He’d had a good feeling about it and never could have dreamt of the places it would eventually take them outside of their small town.

It truly blew his mind how successful they’d become, graduating from a van and bus to finally flying from show to show and staying in hotels. It had become so much fucking fun to sing his heart out and fool around on stage with his best friend.

Eddie turned his face into Steve’s bare stomach, nipping at his belly button with a playful growl. Steve wouldn’t question shit like that. Nuzzling, hugging, cuddling, wrapping himself around Steve like a snake—he was used to Eddie’s jokes and flirtations. Used to Eddie teasing him and scenting him and almost pushing their friendship into friends with benefits territory.

Eddie always toyed with the line, and it was made easy by the demands of their fans. The fans loved seeing him all over Steve—went absolutely bonkers for it—and Eddie was too happy to oblige. Steve always played along, too. He was a good sport and secure in his skin. The most tolerant straight man Eddie had ever met.

And good goddamn, he could act. He always made it feel real. It fucked with Eddie’s head and raging hormones. It was a constant torture, but that was the nature of their relationship, and Eddie was attached. He didn’t know what he was going to do when it ended.

Because it was going to end eventually. Steve wouldn’t be unmated forever. He would find his omega. Eddie always backed off when Steve had a girlfriend. Mysteriously, none of them lasted more than a couple months. Eddie figured it was because of their lifestyle. They were frequently on the road, making relationships long-distance and difficult.

But once Steve officially courted an omega, his and Eddie’s connection would change forever.

Steve was already feeling butterflies for their impending performance. The bites made him squirm a little and suck in. It felt like he was being scented, and Eddie’s tiny growls sounded possessive.

“My mouth is too empty,” Eddie told Steve. Whined, really. “We got candy? Cigarette?” Eddie made no move to get either of those things himself. He knew Steve would take care of him. He pouted pathetically. “Help.”

Steve pushed Eddie’s hair back and bit his lip. Usually, when Eddie’s mouth was empty, he talked a lot or treated Steve like a snack—like he was doing now. Steve slipped out from under him. “‘Course we got candy, Eddie bear. Gummy bears are on our rider, just for you. Let me grab them.”

Steve felt a bit better standing up and being of service to the omega. He lightly caressed his scent gland as he walked over to the treats. He had peanut M&M’s waiting for himself but knew better than to eat them before the show. He was jealous that Eddie could eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, and it never showed. He had the sluttiest little waist. Steve shook his head to rid the thought and tossed the candy to Eddie.

“Thanks.” Eddie caught the bag and opened it with his teeth, pouring an indecent amount of bears into his mouth.

As he stared up at the popcorn ceiling and noshed, his mind couldn’t help but betray him and conjure up a scenario where Steve had answered differently and occupied his mouth with something else.

Steve looked at himself in the mirror. “You’re gonna doll me up a little, aren’t you, with the eye stuff?”

Eddie jumped to his feet, gummy bears scattering across the floor. Oops. He set the bag down on the arm of the sofa. “Of course I am,” he answered with the confidence of a man who had not just been daydreaming about sucking his best friend’s dick two seconds ago.

Eddie usually helped Steve with his stage make-up. While the Alpha was an amazingly talented vocalist, his cosmetic skills were worse than a face painter at a pup’s birthday party.

Eddie knew more than any guy probably should have about makeup. In high school, he had been intensely into Dungeons and Dragons, which sometimes required costuming. Also, one of his close friends had been a cheerleader who had educated him on a lot of things—not limited to beauty and skincare—after she found out what a hopeless homosexual he was.

Steve perched on the dressing room’s stool, waiting patiently for Eddie to paint him up. The last time he’d tried putting on makeup himself, Eddie had laughed, which had bruised his ego, and then there had barely been any time for him to fix it before they’d gone on. He’d vowed never to do it himself again.

Eddie dug through his kit for his eyeshadow palette and popped it open, dabbing his thumb in glittering gold powder and blowing off the excess. “Close, please,” he requested.

It was hard for Steve to close his eyes because Eddie was so fucking pretty. Steve wanted to keep looking, but he obeyed the omega. Steve trusted Eddie. He always improved the way Steve looked, whether it was with makeup or outfit suggestions. Eddie’s dark aesthetic enhanced his preppy style, making him at least look more edgy. Eddie had that ethereal omega beauty most male omegas didn’t have. Truly, Steve never wanted to stop looking at him once he got started.

Eddie gently swiped his thumb along Steve’s eyelids and continued until the color blended to his satisfaction. “Done.”

Steve’s eyelashes fluttered open slowly, meeting beautiful doe eyes staring back at him. He smiled at Eddie sweetly.

Eddie touched Steve’s chin and turned his head for him so he could see the results in the mirror. “Look at that razzle dazzle.”

Steve blushed. Getting painted up was feeling way more intimate than it usually did.

Eddie grinned. “See?” He grabbed the same eye pencil he’d used earlier. Some liner would really make Steve’s eyes pop on stage. “Hold onto me so you stay still for this,” he advised. He had to lean in extra close to do this part, or he’d completely fuck up the lines.

Steve laughed at the instructions but quickly steadied himself and held onto Eddie’s hips. Steve rubbed them when he was finished as a thank you. Eddie’s hip bones were out of this world. “Thanks for making me half as pretty as you.”

Eddie laughed. Leave it to Steve to compliment Eddie when they both knew Steve was the better looking one. He was a gentlealpha for stroking Eddie’s delicate omega ego like that. “Stevie, you know better than anyone that beneath all the smoke and mirrors, there’s nothing but an ugly little rat of a man under here. You’re the beauty; I’m the freak.”

Steve made a face like he always did when Eddie insulted himself. He didn’t like it. He didn't think Eddie was ugly or resembled a rat. Regardless, he smiled a bit at the flattering remark. It made his chest puff out in the typical Alpha’s ego is successfully stroked fashion. 

He let go of Eddie but couldn’t withhold another stronger urge to give affection. As Steve stood up, he leaned in and nuzzled the hell out of the omega. It was an actual scenting, like the ones he reserved for his girlfriends. The breathy noise Eddie made in response and the jackrabbit kick of his heart confused Steve’s brain a little. He pulled back slowly, reluctantly.

The rest of the band shuffled into the room, interrupting them. Steve quickly checked his reflection again. Luckily, he hadn’t messed up what Eddie had just done, thanks to his big nose doing the brunt of the nuzzling.

They began their pre-show group huddle, and Steve gave them a speech reminiscent of his basketball and swim team championships. Gareth and Jeff’s eyes started to glaze over at the sports analogies.

It was dragging on a little, so Eddie slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders and cheerfully interrupted, “Boys, let’s rock and roll!”

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There was nothing like the roar of the crowd, the sea of excited faces waiting just for them, chanting their name as they ran out. Eddie would never get tired of hearing that.

The confetti cannons burst at the start of their first song, and Eddie’s blood sang along with Steve's.

By the middle of their set, Eddie had lost his shirt and shoes, but he was still getting service from Harrington, who kept gyrating his hips in Eddie’s direction and, at one point, had grabbed Eddie’s nipple ring with his teeth.

Near the end of the set, Eddie was so sweaty he could probably bellyflop and glide down the stage like a Slip ’N Slide.

There was a break in their current song, about forty-five seconds of instrumentals, and no vocals: Eddie’s guitar solo.

Steve took ten seconds to play the crowd, going to the edge of the stage and touching the hands of star-struck fans. One girl nearly fainted, her friends catching her when her knees buckled.

Eddie watched, mouthing, “Your majesty!” when Steve turned around. He stuck out his tongue, bratty.

It had its intended effect. Steve crossed the stage and got right up in Eddie’s space. He wrapped himself around Eddie, draping himself along Eddie’s back like a cape. One of his big hands, warm and alive and buzzing from adrenaline and holding the mic, splayed across his abs. (Eddie had those now. Actual abs.) Eddie’s stomach jumped a little, and he felt the vibration of Steve’s laugh, his breath hot against Eddie’s scent gland.

Then, Steve actually had the balls to press his lips against Eddie’s skin and drag his tongue up the side of Eddie’s neck.

That was new for Eddie—and everyone else. The crowd went wild. The girls screamed so deafeningly loud it almost drowned out Eddie’s guitar. Probably a good thing because he fumbled a note and nearly forgot where he was.

Steve laughed again. That absolute fucker. Steve couldn’t have the upper hand. Unacceptable. And the crowd clearly wanted more, more, more. (Just like Eddie wanted more, more, more. Off the stage, away from the audience, alone in their hotel room, on the bed—maybe cuffed to the bedpost.)

Eddie relaxed, tipping his head back onto Steve’s shoulder as his fingers sped up, hammering the frets. He panted out his breaths and pushed his sweaty body back against Steve’s, so Steve was forced to take his weight and hold him tighter. “Two can play at this game,” he hissed playfully.

Because he thought that was what this was. Steve was just playing for the fans, like always. They were competing over who could push this the farthest.

But then Steve looked down at him with something dark and inscrutable in his eyes, something not so familiar that made Eddie’s stomach swoop hard, and then he was tilting Eddie’s chin up and—

They were kissing. Eddie hit the last note on his guitar, and it rang out, his pulse rushing in his ears, his lips moving on their own to kiss Steve back. Too eagerly, too seriously to laugh off to everyone later as a joke, and he let go of his guitar, and it hung there while he reached up to grab Steve’s face and his hair that was still somehow perfectly styled, messing it thoroughly as Steve’s tongue ravaged his mouth.

That was new, too. They'd never kissed each other before. They'd gotten extremely close more than a few times, but like this, for real? No.

The crowd was roaring, but the world around Eddie barely existed until Steve suddenly pulled away and ran back to the mic stand, straddling it, singing to the crowd in a deep, breathy tone. Eddie felt dizzy.

Gareth shot him a look, subtly nodding to Eddie’s limp guitar, and Eddie quickly got with the program again—a huge, fake smirk pasted on that he hoped was convincing. Fuck.

Panicking a little and needing something to obliterate his sudden manic horniness and confusion, Eddie thought, What better way to do that than to dive into a crowd of smelly, sweaty people? Insta-boner killer and slick stopper.

Barb, Mind Flayer’s manager, was going to kill him for this.

Letting out a war cry, Eddie ran towards the edge of the stage and jumped, spread eagle.

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The second they stepped on stage, Steve felt on fire with adrenaline. Goosebumps erupted over his arms when Eddie strummed the first note that kicked off the show.

Steve shot a sultry look in Eddie’s direction as he grabbed the mic and hit his cue. It wasn’t lost on him that what really got the girls and guys going was him and Eddie. Steve shared the spotlight with him. Alphas fawned over Eddie, and the omegas and betas fawned over him. When they played it up with each other, everyone went wild.

It started innocently enough. Embracing Eddie’s body while he played his guitar solo. Eddie losing his platform shoes made him slightly shorter than Steve, and being shirtless made it easy for Steve’s hand to graze Eddie’s hot, sweaty, and toned stomach. His mouth had gone dry again, he was dying for a taste.

Eddie’s scent had been clouding Steve’s mind since he’d walked into the dressing room. Intoxicated, Steve was high off Eddie. He was going feral for him. The second his lips touched Eddie’s skin, Steve knew he was going to scent him much harder than he had earlier. He gave Eddie’s scent gland a slow, rough lick. He could feel the effect immediately. His pupils blew like he’d just consumed the most delicious drug.

He laughed because he was in shock at himself for doing that. The crowd's reaction was one of approval, he could only assume, by the deafening screams.

Eddie leaned back against him while he continued to skillfully play the guitar. Steve had no other choice than to stand there and get rubbed against by the smooth leather covering Eddie’s ass. The payback was sweet; Eddie knew exactly what he was doing to Steve. The rough material of his jeans naturally created a delicious amount of friction between them.

When Eddie looked up at him, Steve guided Eddie’s chin towards him and kissed him. They’d gotten close to kissing a couple of times, but at the last second, one of them would smile or pull back. Always playing, always teasing. This time, it really happened.

Steve knew better than to scent an omega without explicit permission, but his hormones were absolutely raging, and they both consensually scented each other in the dressing room. The way Eddie kissed him back was with enough vigor that Steve felt it in his bones. Eddie’s reaction made him feel like what he had done wasn’t wrong. Steve did his best to let go and not suppress his urges anymore. He was burning up and melting.

Why had he waited so long to…?

Oh fuck, the end of Eddie’s guitar solo was his cue to get back on the mic. While Steve wished it was just the two of them on stage, he had to finish the show.

He caught his breath while he pressed the mic back into the stand. When he leaned in to sing the last line, his Alpha voice simmered just below the surface.

Suddenly, the music stopped, and Eddie’s guitar was thrust into his possession. With his baby in safe hands, Eddie took a graceful nosedive off the mother fucking stage. He was quickly surfing his way through the crowd.

All Steve could do was stand there while a sea of security guards hustled to grab the omega before he got eaten alive. Steve felt a white-hot rage he’d never experienced before as Eddie’s body got violated by their fans.

God damn it, Eddie was his.

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The fans were about as enthusiastic to get their paws on him as Eddie had expected. At first, it was actually pretty fucking fun, looking up at the metal rafters and travelling on an ocean of different palms.

Then, it got a little less fun. The touches got more aggressive—grabbing, squeezing, and tearing at his pants. All of his rings and jewelry were taken. He almost fell to the floor a few times. Somebody yanked out a whole handful of his hair and made him squeal. He was like a gangly zebra in a pack of hungry lions.

He’d never admit it, but he was starting to feel just a little bit frightened. By the time security managed to wrangle him back onto the stage, he was howling with laughter, although around ninety percent of it was relief. “What a fucking ride!”

The rest of the band were waiting in the wings. Only Jeff seemed amused. “Dude, that was insane.”

Eddie’s pants hadn’t come all the way off, but it was a damn near thing. The top of his ass cheeks and pubic hair were on full display. Steve moved to shield Eddie’s body from prying eyes. “I got him,” Steve told their main security guard.

Eddie swallowed his tongue when Steve stepped in. He wondered if Steve even realized he’d used his Alpha voice on Reggie.

Then, Steve pulled up what was left of Eddie’s pants, making him squeak, and started herding him back to the dressing room.  

“Steve,” Eddie said, not knowing whether to laugh more, feel embarrassed or get irritated. He felt like a naughty pup. And why was it also making him kinda horny again? Ugh, hormones. “I know you're trying to protect my modesty here, but it’s nothing a million people haven’t seen already.”

The paps had caught him with his clothes more than a few times in the past. Skinny dipping, drunkenly mooning someone, the list went on.

The dressing room door closed behind them, hushing most of the noise. Eddie got steamrolled by Steve’s scent. Usually, he smelled comforting, like a warm chocolate chip muffin. Now, that muffin was incredibly burnt.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked, his voice naturally dropping to something lower and softer. Without the laces, his pants were a losing battle. When Steve let go, Eddie didn't bother to pull them back up again. Steve was seething. His baseline low rumble was currently a loud, angry growl emitting from his throat. No, Steve wasn’t okay. He couldn’t even smell Eddie anymore. His warm, buttery cinnamon cookie scent was gone, and any trace of his own scent on Eddie was long gone, too. All of it was buried under at least a hundred different scents. They all were flooding Steve’s sensitive nose. The concoction made his stomach hurt and his skin crawl. Eddie took that as a no. Steve looked pissed. Smelled pissed. Sounded pissed. They were all probably pissed that he’d ended the show abruptly like that. It must’ve just seemed like he wanted the attention—which, granted, wasn’t untrue because he loved attention even at the worst of times, but… “I didn’t mean to ruin the show.” “I don’t care about the show,” Steve replied. It didn’t feel like it was Eddie’s modesty that he was protecting. It was Eddie who Steve was trying to protect, albeit too late. Eddie had been so careless it made Steve sick to think about what could’ve happened. He was completely disheveled.

“You reek,” Steve blurted out, unable to hold back his emotion or muster any tact.

Eddie almost flinched. It was small—a barely noticeable hunching of his shoulders. Steve had never told him he’d smelled bad before, but of course he did after so many people had marked him.

It wasn’t like Eddie enjoyed having all their scents on him. It felt pretty repulsive, but doing what he did had given him something he’d needed. Being passed around like a toy by the crowd had bitch slapped Eddie back into reality. Steve hadn’t been scenting him for real. That kiss hadn’t been real. It had only been for show, no matter how much it had felt like Steve had wanted him in the moment.

Steve took his shirt off and threw it on the floor. He wasn’t planning on it but wasn’t above throwing a hissy fit. He crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet, even though he felt like stomping them like a pup who hadn’t gotten the toy he’d wanted. His own scent had turned bitter. He knew it. What had he scented Eddie for? Why had he kissed him? Steve swallowed. He knew why he’d done it, and it hurt that it didn’t seem to mean anything to Eddie. Eddie seemed like he was okay—more than okay. He was acting like he’d had such a thrill and that it had been so much fun.

Steve was close to his rut, so it made sense he would be scentsitive and irritable, especially since he had to share a room with Eddie and would be sleeping near him. Maybe his rut was coming sooner than they thought.

Steve finally looked directly at Eddie, and that was when he noticed. “Fuck. You’re bleeding.” “I’m fine, Stevie,” Eddie said, giving the Alpha a smile that felt uncomfortable on his face. “I can barely feel anything. My scalp is just weeping because it’s gonna have to do some work to regrow that.”

Steve swallowed his pride, uncrossed his arms and went over to get a better look at Eddie’s head. He made a soft noise when he saw Eddie’s hair was just gone in one spot. Granted, the man had a lot of hair, so it could easily be hidden, but it still looked bad. He’d been wounded. “That’s gotta hurt. We gotta get you cleaned up, man.”

Some bruises were forming on Eddie’s alabaster skin, too, and Steve noticed all his accessories were gone. Eddie’s favorite belt, bracelets and rings.

Any other time, Eddie would have squeezed Steve’s shoulders to calm him, but it was clear that his touch would only make things worse right now. Steve looked so tense. He was shirtless. Steam was practically rolling off of him, and his scent wasn’t easing up. 

While Eddie was calm, crashing after the high of his ridiculous stage dive and body surfing stunt, Steve was just getting hotter and hotter.

Eddie grabbed his sweater from the crushed velvet armchair and pulled it on. The adrenaline started to wear off, making him cool down rapidly, and his hands began to tremble. Whether it was from nicotine withdrawal or the little stunt he’d pulled, or maybe both, Eddie didn’t know.

He realized too late that the sweater wasn’t his but Steve’s, and muttered an apology. Steve’s unburnt scent was embedded into it. Eddie resisted the urge to pluck the neckline up over his nose and hold it there. They borrowed each other’s clothes all the time when they were on the road. He’d have to make sure it got washed before he gave it back.

They only had one more night together before they all parted ways. Eddie was flying to Hawkins to visit Wayne for a few days before returning to his home in West Hollywood to ride out his heat. He didn’t know when he would see Steve again—maybe not until a few weeks later for their post-tour photoshoot and interview with Rolling Stone.

Steve spun in place again. Stopped. Eddie was wearing his yellow sweater. That gave him a tiny bit of relief. He liked Eddie wearing his scent more than he would admit. He also didn’t like it when Eddie was exposed when it wasn’t entirely his choice.

He shook his head. “We should head to the hotel now. I don’t think the afterparty is a good idea tonight, Eddie.”

Steve knew Eddie wouldn’t like his opinion, but he didn’t care.

Eddie glanced at Steve and then away, leaving the Alpha’s side to dig in his bag by the mirror for his jeans. He turned as he removed the tattered leather pants, kicking them into the garbage bin, and only turned to face Steve again once his jeans were zipped and buttoned. “Why isn’t the afterparty a good idea?”

The night was still young, after all. Eddie didn’t really feel like partying, but maybe getting blackout drunk would stop him from climbing into Steve’s bed and begging for more of what had happened on stage, which could very well happen if he stayed in. Eddie knew he’d be having slick dreams for weeks, if not months, of that fucking kiss. His mind already had it on replay. “Don’t think it’s safe. Not this close to your cycle. What if someone from the crowd got the wrong idea and took advantage of you?” Like they could’ve done when you threw yourself into the chaotic audience. Steve wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if something bad had happened to Eddie. Even if it would’ve been his own damn fault. He felt responsible for what had happened, almost like what he’d done had triggered Eddie to do it. Then, actually not being able to do anything to protect him was too much. He could control the situation by saying no to the party. “So, we’re going back to the hotel now.”

Whether you like it or not, Steve thought. He started to gather up his stuff and called for Barb to get them a car.

Eddie wasn’t as careful as an omega should have been, and Steve knew it. It worried him to no end when Eddie would go off to be with some rando after a show. If tonight was any indication of how reckless Eddie could be, Steve couldn’t imagine what else could be pulled and with who. 

Eddie paused, taken aback. They both knew he was an omega who was capable of protecting himself. He could be wildly irresponsible, too, but his self-defence skills were on the same level as an Alpha’s. The response only solidified in Eddie’s mind that Steve was very close to his rut—and for some reason, Steve’s pre-rut instincts were being directed towards Eddie.

He guessed it made sense, considering how close they were. Steve had no other omegas he’d been around as frequently as Eddie lately besides Gareth, but their relationship was more formal.

Eddie didn’t want Steve to come to the afterparty with him if he was going into rut. Forget Eddie; Steve could be taken advantage of. Eddie loved the guy, but he was painfully oblivious about some things.

He also didn’t want Steve to be alone in their hotel room while he went out. Not because Steve could potentially find himself a rut partner and bar Eddie from the room…

…Okay, exactly because of that.

Eddie opened his mouth, but Steve had already moved on from the subject and was trying to move out the door.

“Wait—“ Eddie stopped Steve with a hand to his bare, very furred chest. “You’re going to make the omegas faint if you go out like that.”

Christ, Steve was really warm. And he wasn’t thinking clearly. Eddie quickly let go when he noticed Steve reacting badly. He pulled out a tank top from his duffle and held it out. It was threadbare and soft—not likely to irritate Steve’s skin.

Steve put his hands on his hips and turned around. He didn’t know what to do. He was burning up, so he didn’t want to put the shirt on. He wanted to get the fuck out of there and take the coldest shower he could stand. He dropped his hands and took the top. The scent on the shirt was untainted Eddie, so he wasn’t going to object. Making omegas faint was a thing that had happened, but only a couple of times. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, so Steve complied. Luckily, it was just a tank top, too. He didn’t think he could handle a shirt with sleeves.

“Happy?” he asked Eddie once he pulled it on, magically feeling a little calmer.

Steve looked even sluttier now than he did shirtless, somehow. “Still going to make them faint,” Eddie muttered, stepping into his boots and hiking his bag onto his shoulder. 

Steve heard the quiet comment as he led the way out. It made him smirk, but he knew he didn’t have that effect on Eddie anyway. He’d never make Eddie faint.

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The rest of the band weren’t ready to leave yet and would get a separate car, so they said a quick goodbye.

“See you at the after party?” Jeff asked them, his arm around the shoulders of an omega groupie who was giggling into his neck.

“Maybe,” Eddie hedged.

At the same time, Steve growled, “No,” with enough force to raise Jeff’s eyebrows.

“Alright.” Jeff shrugged, happy to ignore them as the groupie murmured something in his ear.

Steve was deaf to Jeff’s response and blind to the slutty female omega hanging on his arm. He was too busy glaring at Eddie for having said maybe. He had said no and meant it. Neither one of them were going to the after party.

Eddie wrapped his arms around his middle as they exited the theatre, and security escorted them to their waiting car. A few paps got pictures of them despite security’s efforts to shield them.

Steve’s brow softened. Usually, they would huddle close together to make it easier for security to block them, but not this time.

Steve followed Eddie into the car. The smaller space wasn’t helping his nausea from the cacophony of scents still raging.

“You want me to shower in Gareth’s room?” Eddie asked once they were settled in the backseat. To be courteous to Steve’s scentsitivity. Gareth wouldn’t mind.

“No, of course you don’t have to shower in Gareth’s room. You can take the first shower, though.” He’d feel better once Eddie was in the safety of their own room and smelled like himself again. The ride wasn’t tense exactly, but Eddie could feel how much Steve didn’t want to be in the car with him. He was pressed against the door as far away from Eddie as possible. Eddie tried not to wilt in rejection.

Steve rested his hot forehead against the cool window. He felt bad for telling Eddie that he smelled bad, but he was angry, and Eddie really did fucking reek. “Sorry about what I said,” Steve added. “We had a good show. It was fun.”

Eddie was surprised by the apology, but he shook his head. “It’s okay, Stevie,” he answered softly.

He had an incredibly overpowering urge to take off his seatbelt and remove all distance between them. Climb into Steve’s lap and cuddle the motherfucking shit out of him. He held onto the seat instead, knuckles turning white as he resisted.

It stung a little the way Steve sprang out as soon as the car stopped, but Eddie understood.

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“You could have been seriously hurt,” was the first thing Barb said to him as she approached them, leading them into the hotel. “I know you don’t like them, but we have safety protocols for you guys for a reason.”

Steve nodded silently in agreement with her but decided not to pile on as Eddie took the gentle lashings with a hangdog head and a sheepish smile. “I know. Won’t happen again, I promise.”

“You’re damn right it won’t,” Barb replied, but her glare softened behind her gold-rimmed glasses, and she smiled back at him after a moment. She left them with a compliment. “You did great out there, by the way. Steve, you’ve never sounded better.”

Eddie smiled a little as Steve’s face turned pink under her compliment. “She’s right,” he said.

Barb handed over their room key, and they said goodbye. Steve led the way to the elevator, Eddie trailing behind slightly.

When they entered the room, Steve dropped his bag, popped the button on his jeans, and fell back onto the bed. “Eddie. Shower. Now,” he ordered. He turned over on his side and grabbed the phone off the nightstand. “I’m calling room service. Do you want anything?”

The demand from Steve shouldn’t have sent a happy zing up Eddie’s spine, but it did. It made him wonder (probably for the millionth time since they’d met) what Steve’s Alpha voice would feel like. Probably fantastic.

“Yes, Alpha,” he sing-songed, dropping his duffle on his bed and kicking off his boots. “Pick something for me?”

Eddie didn’t feel like deciding what to eat, and Steve knew what he liked. He hadn’t eaten much since breakfast, too focused on prepping for the show. Steve might have fed him a few bites of his sandwich at lunch. He couldn’t remember. It felt like a long time ago.

Steve was still burning up, but the response from the omega made him shiver. He liked being obeyed. “Sure.”

“Thank youuu.”

Eddie went to the bathroom and closed the door. Didn’t bother locking it. His reflection almost made him laugh. No wonder everyone had had such a reaction. His makeup was smeared, and his hair was giving Medusa vibes. Those paparazzi pics were going to be interesting. He looked like he’d gone through a car wash without a car. “Bozo the fucking clown,” he said under his breath.

Even if Steve wasn’t straight, why the hell would he want this?

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Steve was starving. He was craving red meat and potatoes. He knew Eddie would want something lighter, so he ordered him a grilled cheese and the soup of the day. Then he ordered red wine, champagne and cake, too. Just because they weren’t going to the after party, didn’t mean they couldn’t celebrate.

While Steve wanted to undress, he figured he’d stay decent enough to answer the door. After he hung up the phone, he took off his shoes.

They were pretty high in one of the presidential suites. Their windows had no curtains, which had made sleeping in the night before difficult, but the view was worth it. Steve stood at the large window overlooking the city. He was still in a bit of shock that they were there. He hadn’t become used to the lifestyle or the fame yet.

Eddie’s shower was going on longer than Steve thought it would. He thought he heard Eddie cry out, but when he went to the door and pressed his ear against it, he didn’t hear anything else.

The food arrived pretty quickly, and Steve gave the bellboy a good tip. He poured some wine for himself and sat down at the table. The guy must’ve thought Steve’s mate was in the shower. He scurried around, insisting on dressing the table in a tablecloth. He lit two candles, too, making the room look incredibly romantic. Steve tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary but gave up and just allowed it since he didn’t feel like explaining.

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Now that he was completely down from his showtime high, Eddie felt everything that had been done to him. Every bruise was throbbing, and it would only feel worse in the morning.

His clothes hit the floor a few seconds later, and he stepped into the shower, eager to wash away the dried sweat, makeup, blood and itchy, filthy scents all over him.

He scrubbed hard and thoroughly, suddenly frantic to get clean, to be Eddie again so that Steve would like him again.

“Ow, ow, ow,” he hissed. The shampoo was burning in the spot where he’d lost hair. He quickly rinsed it out, and the water turned pink.

Once every speck of dirt and scent had swirled down the drain, Eddie finally turned off the taps and stepped out into the foggy room.

The dirty towels from that morning were gone, but the towel rack was empty. Hopefully, the maid hadn’t forgotten to give them fresh ones.

Eddie floundered a little, then went to the door, opening it and sticking just his head out. “Steve? Are there towels out there?”

“Uh…” Steve furrowed his brow, confused as to why there weren’t any towels in the bathroom. Their room had been cleaned. Their beds had been made, too.

He got up from the table and looked around, spotting an abundance of towels stacked neatly under the nightstand. Usually, towels by the bed were reserved for heats and ruts. He grabbed two and brought them over to Eddie.

Again, Eddie’s delicious scent hit him, and Steve’s stomach literally growled out loud.

Eddie heard it. Poor guy. Alphas in rut needed an insane amount of protein to feel good enough to function. Their bodies burned through it quickly since they used so much energy fucking people’s brains out, Eddie supposed.

Steve rubbed his stomach. “Ugh, I gotta eat, man.”

“Thanks. Yeah, don’t wait on my account, big boy. Go eat.” Eddie shooed Steve and retreated to the bathroom.

He dried himself, then wrapped one of them around his hips as best he could. The towels Steve gave him weren’t regular-sized, he realized. Had about as much coverage as a loincloth.

Eddie came out and kneeled awkwardly to dig through his suitcase. He wasn’t prepared for the scent that hit his nostrils, either. Steve had flooded the room with Alpha pheromones, and they were getting stronger by the minute. Enough to make him lightheaded.

Steve took the dome off his plate and found the juiciest steak but nearly choked on the first piece when he saw Eddie. Steve averted his gaze slowly, catching a glimpse not so accidentally. He made a happy little noise, and not just about the meat. Eddie’s scent had returned, and Steve could feel a rumble bubbling up in his chest.

Eddie grabbed some comfortable boxers and an old band t-shirt he’d had since he was a teenager. He’d cut it in half during a particularly scorching summer, so it left his midriff nice and cool. He didn’t bother going back to the bathroom to put them on, changing right there.

When he turned around, he noticed Steve sitting at the kitchenette table.

“Oh,” Eddie said, heat flooding his face. He took in the champagne on ice, the soft glow of the candles, the tablecloth. His stomach lurched. Steve looked like he was waiting for a date. “Are you—um, did you invite someone over? Do you need me to go?”

It was strange, considering Steve had been so adamant Eddie return to the hotel with him, but maybe he had called someone while Eddie was in the shower. He had to realize by now that he was going into rut.

“What?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow. “No, and no. I told you I was ordering food for us. They kinda thought it was more of a romantic occasion… but I thought that since we’re not going to the party, we could still celebrate.” Steve felt bad for putting a damper on their last night together for a while. “I know you like the bubbly stuff.”

The little knot that had tied itself in Eddie’s stomach unwound. “That’s thoughtful, A—Steve,” he corrected himself.

One time calling Steve Alpha as a joke was acceptable. Twice in the same hour put him in the danger zone.

Steve flashed him a smile and got up to pull the second chair away from the table so Eddie would sit with him. Steve stopped him before he did, leaning into his space to scent him gently.

He couldn’t resist. Eddie smelled better than the food and looked like a snack in his comfy clothes. Steve had to restrain himself from licking and nipping him. He had food. He didn’t have to devour Eddie…right now, at least.

Eddie didn’t think much of being scented. He accepted it with a head tilt and a relieved sigh that he hid with a breathy laugh. Family and close friends scented each other casually all the time—he took it as a sign he was back in Steve’s good graces.

The Alpha looked much more relaxed. There was even that endearing rumble tickling Eddie’s ears. Steve sometimes did that when he was enjoying himself. The hotel’s chef must have really nailed that steak.

“Are you happy with the choice I made for you?” Steve asked. “If not, I know you’ll like the cake.” Eddie loved sweet things, so Steve knew the cake would do.

Eddie resisted the urge to wrap his arms around Steve and hang onto him like a koala. He lifted the metal dome over his plate instead. Soup and grilled cheese were the second thing he was craving. The first thing wasn’t on the menu. “You always know what I want,” he answered.

Steve was attentive like that. When it came to everything except… well, you know. Nobody on earth knew Eddie better than Steve, not even his only living relative.

Steve was pretty pleased with himself after receiving Eddie’s compliment. It fed his ego perfectly. He reached for the champagne. “You wanna pop it? I know it’s like your favorite part.” He chuckled and handed the bottle to Eddie.

Using his thumbs, Eddie popped the cork on the champagne bottle. They cheered as it foamed over, and Eddie poured them each a glass before sitting in the chair Steve had pulled out for him. “To Mind Flayer?” he suggested. “And another tour success.”

They toasted.

“Are you looking forward to going home and sleeping in your own bed again?” Eddie asked once he had sat down and taken a sip of champagne, trying to ignore the way the candles were making Steve’s eyes look darker than usual. Eddie probably wasn’t going to survive the rest of the night.

Steve sipped from his glass. The liquid was refreshingly cold from being on ice. Steve hadn’t cooled down yet, so he threw back the entire glass to help do that. He wasn’t aware of what was happening to him yet—what Eddie’s proximity and scent were doing to him.

He wasn’t sure how to answer Eddie’s question. “I’m going to miss you.”

Steve felt his lips tingle after he said it. He knew it wasn’t just from downing the bubbly way too fast. They’d kissed. Steve hadn’t had time to process it or reflect because of what had happened after.

Eddie did a lot of things that made Steve want to kiss him. Naturally, he was adorable, but finally, Steve had given in to his impulses. It wasn’t Eddie who’d instigated it, but he’d kissed Steve back, and Steve couldn’t quit thinking about it. Their kiss hadn’t been chaste. Steve had been able to taste the gummy bears Eddie had eaten and everything.

He’d always had a feeling Eddie had a thing for him. He’d tried his best to ignore it, feeling like it wouldn’t be right even though he played into it on stage. They’d never really crossed the line.

Off stage, he’d tried to be with women, but he hadn’t been able to commit to any of them. Weirdly, he felt like he had been betraying Eddie, and he hadn’t found anyone significant. He hadn’t been happy going through the motions every time their tours ended. He was not looking forward to going back home and being alone in his bed.

“I’ll miss you too, dude,” Eddie said, hiding a pleased smile behind a bite of grilled cheese. Maybe the casual use of dude would help deflect the way his scent perked up like a flower in the sun.

Eddie didn’t miss his place one bit. He was thinking of getting a cat. Now that the tour was over, he would have plenty of free time he wouldn’t know what to do with. Getting a pet was a solid idea. Eddie had never had one before. Cats were cuddly and warm and could take up some of the vast space and silence in his house. Maybe he would get several cats.

“It’s so hot,” Steve complained.

He had to take the tank top off. He pulled it from the bottom up and over his head in one fell swoop. Steve sighed as he let it drop to the floor, which only helped slightly.

He reached into the champagne bucket for ice. Steve got a piece and moved it up his neck to his jaw. It felt so good that he moaned a little, but the ice cube melted in seconds.

Any thoughts about felines fell right out of Eddie’s head when Steve started molesting himself with an ice cube. Eddie’s eyes widened into saucers, fist clenching around his spoon. What in the wet o dream was going on here?

“Gotta get out of these fucking pants,” Steve added. While the button wasn’t attacking him anymore, the heavy fabric was roasting him.

Eddie tried to keep acting normal. The shirt was okay—Eddie was used to Steve losing that during the night, but when the pants came off, Eddie dropped his spoon and choked on his soup. It went down the wrong pipe. He coughed. Thumped his chest. “Usually, it’s tequila that makes people’s clothes fall off,” he wheezed.

Sweet baby Jesus, he was gonna die today.

If this were a date, Eddie would absolutely be getting lucky. But since it wasn’t—

“How about we open a window?” Eddie got up, giving the almost naked Alpha a wide berth as he went to approach the one closest to them. He grabbed the handles and heaved upwards. Nothing happened. “Christ, it's stuck.”

He tried again to no avail when suddenly two muscled arms appeared by his sides, and two big paws circled his wrists. “Let me try, Eds.”

“Good day, biceps, my fair gentlemen,” Eddie said to them.

The joke was weak due to the fact he sounded like he was being strangled. He could feel Steve’s body heat along his back even though they weren’t touching. There was a small, minuscule space between them. Steve was like a furnace. Eddie let Steve remove his hands from the handles, and Steve’s hands settled onto them instead.

Steve laughed. He was still reeling over the tequila reference. It only stroked his ego more. His Alpha had a raging hard on from the omega’s continued praise. It stupidly fueled his faith that he could get the window open for them.

He leaned into Eddie instead of suggesting he move. It felt like Eddie being sandwiched between him and the window was helping somehow. His scent was so strong; the aroma was like Steve had just walked into a French bakery. The freshly baked chocolate croissant was calling his name.

Eddie should have ducked out, but for some reason, he stayed frozen where he was. There was straining, veins bulging, and some grunting right in Eddie’s ear that he really had to try not to imagine in a different scenario.

Finally, he could bear the torture no more. Also, the window wasn’t budging. Not a fucking inch. (And, of course, that had Eddie thinking about how many inches Steve had in those paper-thin boxers.)

“Steeeve, I don’t think these were built to open,” Eddie said, not turning around and subtly clenching his cheeks because his slick was trying to make a damn prison break and also, hey, that was an erection. “Maybe we should try the air con.”

Why hadn’t he thought of that first?

Steve should’ve realized the window was sealed shut. Hotels didn’t take kindly to people jumping out of their windows. Eddie was right, even though opening a window was his idea. “Oh yeah,” he murmured, pulling back.

Steve went over to the thermostat and cranked it down, then moved to stand in front of the vent and breathed a tiny sigh of relief as the cool air blasted hard enough to blow his hair back. A happy rumble left his lips, and after a minute, he joined Eddie, who had returned to the table. “Wine time,” Steve declared.

He poured a generous amount into their glasses and sat back down. Steve’s temperature was no longer spiking, but Eddie was smelling more and more delicious. “Eddie, you smell so fucking good. I feel like devouring you instead.”

Steve reached for Eddie’s hand and tugged it across the table, pressing his whole face against Eddie’s inner arm and nuzzling his way up. Steve scented him again and playfully gnawed. “Would you be okay with that?” he asked, eyes dark and hungry. 

Eddie had folded his napkin strategically across his lap. He had barely recovered from what would forever be referred to in his spank bank as the window incident when Steve unleashed more on him. Eddie was glad he hadn’t taken a sip of wine yet because he would have sprayed it all over the table. Instead, he failed spectacularly to repress a noise and a full-body shiver.

Was he hallucinating? Had the loud concerts finally gotten to his ears and damaged them?

“Would I…” Eddie swallowed. Hard. Would he be okay with that? Fuck yes! “I think we should have some cake! You probably just have a sweet tooth.”

Steve was leaning across the table, almost like he was going to kiss Eddie again (sweet mother of fucking mercy). In a desperate attempt not to give in and just let it happen, Eddie snatched his arm back and picked up his fork, stopping Steve’s trajectory with a big mound of cake. “Here, eat up.”

Eddie didn’t give Steve much choice unless he wanted icing smeared all over his face. While Steve worked on his mouthful, Eddie picked up his wineglass and threw it back, throat working as he downed the whole thing and stared determinedly at the wall instead of Steve, who was still trying to penetrate him with his eyes.

Jesus, who’d never listened to Eddie once in his entire life, help him.

“Alright, Alpha— fuck, Steve, you’re going into rut,” Eddie said. It didn’t feel right—not morally —no matter how happy his omega was by the turn of events. Steve seemed not in his proper mind anymore. At all. “You are in a vulnerable state. I can’t let this continue, even if I do want to offer my body as dessert.”

What was he saying? Was the wine already hitting him? He wasn’t really a wine drinker, but surely his tolerance for it wasn’t so weak. Eddie deflected and ripped his arm away so swiftly that Steve couldn’t compute what had happened. Since Eddie had shoved the cake directly into his mouth next, he couldn’t even make a noise in protest. The rush of moist chocolate cake wasn’t what he was craving. It was too much. Steve tried not to choke on it. He had difficulty chewing it and getting it down, so he had to sip the wine to dissolve it quickly. He wasn’t happy that Eddie had done that or about what he’d said. “You didn’t wear your blockers tonight,” Steve pointed out when he could finally talk. He still had enough sense to know that he wasn’t hot and bothered for no fucking reason at all. He picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth free of icing and crumbs.

Eddie was hot as hell, so there was always that, too, but he’d scented Steve. Threw himself in Steve’s lap and scented his entire stomach when he’d bit at it. The antics in the dressing room had only escalated on stage, and being that close and intimate enough to kiss an almost ripe omega had accelerated it, too. “I don’t have to worry about you taking advantage of me. And there isn’t a crowd of fifty thousand people you can throw yourself into in our room.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

Okay, so he still wasn’t fucking over that. He couldn’t stay mad, though. He cared about Eddie a lot.

Steve knew that he had the power to make Eddie succumb. He wouldn’t. He wanted and needed Eddie’s permission. Steve couldn’t take advantage of the nearest omega like some Alphas did. Eddie was the most important omega in his life. He wasn’t going to tarnish their relationship.

Eddie’s heart started to pound. “Gareth ran out of blockers. I gave him mine. I wasn’t trying to bait you or manipulate you or anything.” Not consciously, anyway. His instincts were a bit more tricky, but he hadn't had some slinky plan to induce Steve’s rut. “And even if I had been, I wouldn’t expect it to work. You’ve never been into me that way. Not in private.”

At least, that had been what Eddie had always assumed up until tonight.

As for his other behavior… Eddie shrugged weakly. He didn't have an excuse. “But I can’t always help the way I act around you.”

Eddie’s omega was convinced Steve was the one for him, and it was hard to argue with it.

Steve didn’t think Eddie was trying to do anything by not wearing his blockers, but he couldn’t deny what it had done to him. Steve already had a natural magnetic pull towards Eddie. He could never fully figure out why. He hadn’t gotten to experience Eddie’s scent like this until now. It was the missing piece.

Of course, Steve knew blockers were the best protection for an unmated omega, and they had to be worn constantly when they were in crowded public places. It kept Eddie safe against any Alpha that had bad intentions. It was imperative on show days where there were known to be rabid fans.

Steve reached out to touch Eddie’s arm again so the omega would look at him. “I know the timing is fucked up, Eddie, but I can promise that if I didn’t really want you, I wouldn’t have insisted that we come back here. Especially when you didn’t smell like you or me for a little while.”

That had really bothered Steve. He didn’t realize how much until now and what he’d blurted out. He’d never experienced it before. He didn’t like his omega smelling like anyone other than him. He knew he didn’t want Eddie’s scent to be tainted by anyone else ever again. Steve didn’t think it was his rut talking. He felt like claiming Eddie tonight so this wouldn’t happen ever again.

“The kiss on stage. Scenting me. That was for real,” Eddie said slowly. “Not just for the fans?”

It was maybe redundant after what Steve had just said, but Eddie wanted direct, verbal validation. Maybe it was the omega part of him.

“You’re the prettiest man I’ve ever seen, but chicks, man.” Steve thought he was one hundred percent straight. He had been a bit of a hound dog when it came to women. “Felt like I wasn’t allowed to,” he acknowledged. He thought he had to be with female omegas and hadn’t experienced a male one until he’d walked into Eddie’s band. Steve had always thought Eddie was attractive. He wasn’t blind. “You’re a guy,” Steve pointed out, then laughed because, yeah. “Obviously…” It had given him major reservations at first. Guys had liked him before, but he’d never liked any of them back until Eddie.

Steve had been apprehensive about fan service, but he was so comfortable with Eddie that it hadn’t felt wrong. It had only made their shows better. It had become fun to push the boundaries of his sexuality and their Alpha and omega dynamics. It had pushed other people’s buttons and had gotten them talking, making their band even more popular and Eddie a gay icon. “It was real,” Steve confirmed. “I wouldn’t kiss you for fan service, especially not for the first time. I couldn’t help it… I had to.”

Steve hadn’t been thinking. His hormones had been raging—still were—and his real feelings had taken over. He wasn’t sure if it’d make headlines since the more pressing news was the epic stage dive.

Eddie waited patiently while Steve explained his feelings in his own way, not trying to interrupt, just letting him work it out. It was probably the most quiet and attentive Eddie’d ever been in his life, but this was Steve. He was fucking important.

It all made perfect sense, even though part of Eddie still couldn’t quite believe his feelings were being reciprocated. And hey, what, hello, prettiest man he’d ever seen? That could not be correct. 

He thought it tragic that Steve had thought he wasn’t allowed to like omega men all this time. Didn’t surprise Eddie, but it made him sad and angry at their closed-minded society for drilling that into Steve’s head.

“I wanted to keep your scent on me.” Eddie touched Steve’s hand, upset with himself. Steve seemed genuinely wounded by what he’d done. He always got a little waspish when he was hurt. “I only jumped because I panicked. I didn't think it was real, and I didn't want you and everyone to see how much I…”

Eddie stopped. Poured himself another glass of wine because it was suddenly confession hour, and he was spilling his guts. He had been dreading this conversation since the day they’d met. Had hoped it would never happen because he had never pictured it ending well. He didn't want to lose Steve, and he was sure that would happen when Steve figured out just how deeply Eddie felt for him. This wasn't some light-hearted puppy love, as much as Eddie tried to twist it that way in his head when he was “harmlessly” flirting.

“I just don’t think I can do this if…” Eddie took a deep breath and looked Steve in the eye, ”…if it’s going to be a one-time thing. I feel more than want for you, Steve—more than like for you, and I have for a long time. I’m not asking you to claim me,” he added quickly, nervously. “You don’t, uh, have to do that. Obviously. Just—I’d want to date you.”

Hearing Eddie's confession melted Steve’s heart a little. “You wanna date?” he asked. “You’ll allow me to court you? So, if we fucked tonight, it wouldn’t be in sin after all?”

Eddie went to toy with one of his rings but forgot it wasn't there, and he ended up rubbing his mating ring finger in an accidentally telling way. He smiled uncertainly. “I don’t want to be friends who fuck. Or friends who fuck and then go back to being just friends. Don’t think I could stand it, honestly.”

Steve’s teasing smirk softened. “Honestly, I don’t think I’d be okay if I never even got the chance to claim you.”

Steve knew his rut was responsible for him wanting to claim Eddie right now. He felt ready because he’d been so angry about not getting to have Eddie in the first place that he just wanted it to be official already. He knew he hadn’t scented Eddie thoroughly enough, so he got up and dropped down in Eddie’s lap.

Eddie’s body was practically vibrating with need for contact. Like Steve knew that, he was suddenly there, sinking his heavy, reassuring weight on Eddie and laying that delectable chocolate scent all over Eddie’s neck. Eddie leaned back with a groan, making the chair creak (it probably wasn’t suited to hold the weight of two grown men).

“Babe, consider me courted.” Really, it didn’t take much more than that. This was his dream come true. Eddie laughed, and even that sounded like he was in ecstasy, threaded with a deep purr that didn't make an appearance very often. “Besides, you’re the one who needs my courting before I pop your cherry.”

Two could play at the teasing game, always, and Eddie was relieved to get back to their banter. Now, it was just sexier. Steve was a virgin who’d never experienced men before, after all—and there Eddie was, unworthy but happy as hell and honored to be the one to give him all the experience he could ever want.

“Hello, thunder thighs.” He meant that in the best way possible. Eddie squeezed them greedily because he was allowed to do that now. He tipped his head up to look at Steve, putting on his silky omega voice. “You know, a few perks come with dating a male omega, and one of them is…”

It had been enough time that his legs no longer felt like cooked spaghetti. Eddie stood up, taking all one hundred and sixty pounds of Steve with him, and dropped his sweaty body onto the bed. Eddie smirked. “ We can do shit like that.”

Steve was turning red, his temperature spiking again. It was a first, getting carried and thrown onto the bed like he was the one who was going to get fucked. Eddie was strong. Steve didn’t hate it.

“That was hot,” Steve said, rumbling as he pushed himself to sit up. He pulled Eddie by the shirt and guided him into his lap. “Don’t think you should be wearing this anymore.”

Steve removed it for him, and as soon as it was off, he went in for a kiss. Eddie tasted sweeter than he had on stage. It felt good to be kissing again. Properly, without a time crunch, and in the privacy of their room where they didn’t have to stop.

All of Eddie’s weight baring down on him felt good, too. Steve’s hands settled on Eddie’s ass. They needed something to hold onto. Since Eddie had shamelessly groped his thighs, it was only fair that Steve kneaded Eddie’s ass like dough through his boxers. It was the only other fluffy part of Eddie’s body besides his hair. Steve had always admired it.

“For the record, the only thing that’s getting popped tonight is my knot,” Steve promised, locking eyes with Eddie.

Like a trained dog, Eddie’s ears perked, and his pupils visibly dilated at the word knot. He’d been trying not to think about Steve’s most of the night. Trying very hard not to think about it stretching him out before locking inside. You know, respectfully, you didn’t think about your best friend’s knot fucking you stupid, especially when said best friend was in the room with you. (It was a little different when you were alone in your bed at 2 AM with your Turbo Knotter 3000 buzzing away.)

Now, that was mostly what was on Eddie’s mind as they kissed again, and Steve massaged his meagre ass like it was more than what it was. Eddie couldn’t resist rocking his hips in Steve’s lap, gushing slick like a river in preparation for it. The other thing that was on his mind was how desperately he didn’t want to fuck this up. He couldn’t be a lousy lay, had to be a good omega, the best omega, couldn’t do something to ruin this—but with his track record…

The thin material between them wasn’t leaving much up to the imagination. Eddie had a big cock—he acted like he did, too—so it wasn’t a surprise for Steve to feel it poking in his stomach. Steve smelled Eddie’s slick and then felt it saturating Eddie’s boxers. He was pleased. He knew he’d done a good job turning an omega on when slick started. He was ravenous for it and its source.

Steve broke the kiss to speak in his Alpha voice. “Let me get you out of these, baby. You soaked them, didn’t you? Just for me. I made you get that wet, huh?”

It was a shock, the filth that spilled from Steve’s mouth. Eddie was stunned into almost bashful silence (which wasn’t right because he didn’t do bashful), an aroused flush blotting his cheeks and working its way down his neck. He’d never experienced Steve’s Alpha voice. It was better than he’d imagined. Between his thighs, he throbbed with want.

In the past, he may have heard Steve’s voice through the paper-thin walls of the motels they used to stay at, but that was more painful than stimulating since it had been directed at whoever Steve had brought to his den for the night.

“Just for you,” Eddie echoed with a dumb smile.

Steve smiled devilishly. He pushed Eddie’s boxers down over his ass, then laid him back at the end of the bed so he could take them the rest of the way off. “I’m totally keeping these, by the way.” Steve sniffed them playfully, then tossed them to the floor.

Eddie had been reduced to a lovesick, brain-dead groupie. Future him would be sickened remembering his impulse to do anything for Steve’s voice. The way his body melted under it. He was glad he had the mattress underneath him for support. He was so wet, now rid of his boxers that Steve apparently wanted to keep as a snack for later, that he was making a puddle on the bed. “They’re all yours, gorgeous. Have them.”

Way to be subtle, Munson. Might as well have said you own me.

Speaking of owning, Eddie didn’t touch his dick, even though it was arching up along his belly and painfully hard, flushed dark red and ready for use. His omega was telling him that also belonged to Steve now. He could do whatever he wanted with it.

Steve sighed, rumbling deeply at the sight before him. He didn’t know where to start.  He spotted some slick on Eddie’s milky and much skinnier thigh and leaned down to lap it up with his tongue. “Fuck, it’s good,” Steve praised.

He got down between Eddie’s thighs and licked and sucked his way up to the source, lifting Eddie’s legs for full access to his ass.

Eddie’s breath hitched. Steve liked how he tasted?

“Been a while since anybody’s been down there. Might have to clear the cobwebs and bats out before you start.” A crappy joke. Eddie began rambling. Why was he fucking nervous? Oh yeah, because he was living his fantasy. He should have drunk that second glass of wine. “Thought I might have to be your teacher during this quest, but you—mh!” Steve’s lips were kissing his hole, his tongue circling Eddie’s sensitive rim. Eddie whined, legs closing briefly around Steve’s head before he got ahold of himself and opened them again. “You seem to be doing okay down there without my tutelage.”

Tutelage? Did he just say tutelage in the middle of sex?

Steve would’ve laughed if his mouth wasn’t busy. Eddie was so fucking cute. He was hungry. While he hadn’t eaten ass before, he didn’t hesitate. His need for Eddie was the driving factor behind his confidence. The fact that it had been a while since Eddie had an Alpha between his legs pleased Steve, too.

Eddie’s slick was delicious. Steve took his time licking and kissing. All he could think about was making Eddie feel as good as he could, considering it’d been a while and that he didn’t even know what the fuck he was doing. He just wanted Eddie to feel treasured and give him some good foreplay.

Steve’s face was getting messy. He loved it. When Eddie’s thighs put him in a headlock, he figured what he was doing was good. He could fuck him easily with his tongue. The texture was new, but the gush of slick onto his tongue made him hum happily. This was the sweetest slick he’d ever experienced. It was so addicting.

Eddie groaned. “M’already fucking this up, aren’t I?” Eddie closed his eyes, sinking his fingers into Steve’s hair, which was still semi-stiff and crunchy from all the Dippity Do. He tried to relax and stop thinking so hard. “Swear I’m usually better than this.”

Not too many of his past partners had done this to him before. Eddie wasn’t particularly interesting down there. His cock he was incredibly proud of, but he knew as far as omegas went, his ass was kind of a snore. Being up close and personal with it like Steve was probably wasn't as exciting as Steve was used to. Eddie knew he didn't compare to any of the curvy female omegas Steve had been with.

Eddie was fine with his lack of assets now, of course, but when he’d first started hooking up with Alphas, the lack of compliments had felt admittedly shitty, especially when he knew other omegas got a lot of them during sex. He’d had to work extra hard to get praise and attention there or pretend he didn’t care. Felt like he didn’t deserve any.

Now that he was famous, guys would tell him anything he wanted to hear and more, but it was rarely genuine.

Steve was confused. What was Eddie talking about? He was having a good time. He was working his way up to getting laid. They both were, but Eddie was worrying about being a good omega. Steve didn’t want to, but he had to stop and keep Eddie from spiralling. He licked up from Eddie’s hole, along his taint and balls and finally lifted his head to look up at him.

“You know, whenever I’m getting head, I never think about if I’m doing a good job.” He had to tease. He just wanted Eddie to enjoy this.

Steve was sitting up, which made Eddie panic a little, thinking things were ending, but it was probably for the best since he was starting to tense up so much that his slick had nearly stopped. He laughed weakly and resisted throwing an arm over his eyes. “Perk of being an omega: constantly needing validation.”

All omegas were whores for praise. Eddie didn’t want to be needy, but his biology just dictated some things for him. It was annoying, more times than not, but it was who he was.

“You’re perfect, Eddie. Look at my face.” Steve smiled, soft and big and genuine. “I’m so happy.”

Steve rumbled as he moved up Eddie’s body, kissing everything, his dick, stomach and chest. When he got to Eddie’s neck, he scraped his canine teeth along it.

Eddie made a noise, torn between embarrassment and that natural euphoria pleasing the Alpha elicited. Perfect? Was Steve telling the truth or just pitying him? It felt genuine, was the thing. Steve wasn’t a liar.

The command to look was easy to follow. Steve did look happy, actually. His cute little brown eyes were sparkling, the lower half of his face messy with slick, hair messy, debauched. Eddie smiled back, a gentle purr vibrating through his chest. 

“Being with you like this is making me so fucking nervous, Stevie,” Eddie confessed with a chuckle as Steve laid kisses on him that felt like little electric buzzes against his skin. As if it wasn’t obvious already, and the way his heart was pounding like Gareth’s drums under Steve’s lips. “I’m a wreck. I’ve thought about this—you—a lot.” Don’t want you to regret me.

There was a low ache in Steve’s belly when he got his mouth on Eddie’s neck. His knot started throbbing. Eddie’s words were music to Steve’s ears. He was so close to biting; his mouth was watering. Eddie’s scent gland was right there.

Eddie pulled Steve’s hips into the vee of his legs, his hands travelling down Steve’s heated back and caressing it. When he felt the sharpness of teeth near his gland, his nails dug in, making Steve gasp, and his eyes fluttered closed. “Fuck,” he breathed. His pulse sped up even more, finding a new rhythm like it was learning a song. “Careful, sweetheart, you might…”

Mate me.

“Don’t be nervous, Eddie bear. I swear I want to. I want you,” Steve said with a possessive growl. He kissed the spot tenderly instead of heeding the warning.

His mating mark would look so good there. Everyone would know Eddie was his, and no one else could claim him. Why wasn’t he claimed yet?

Steve didn’t really know why either of them hadn’t found their mate. Maybe they were waiting for each other. Steve felt a relief tonight for the first time since he’d met Eddie. Eddie had always been closed off to him in a couple of ways. Through their friendship, the band and scent blockers. Their heat and rut schedules were always planned and purposely spent apart.

Steve also didn’t know why he hadn’t taken off his boxers. It was the last thing separating them from full-body contact. Steve moved to get them off. He was still burning up, knowing there wouldn’t be any true relief until he was knot deep inside of Eddie. He sighed a little when he was free and rolled them onto their sides so they could kiss again.

He’d missed Eddie’s mouth. While they kissed, Steve found Eddie’s hand and moved it to wrap around his cock. It needed attention immediately. He wanted Eddie to feel how hard he had gotten because of him.

Somehow, hearing Steve’s sweet nickname for him in the Alpha voice made Eddie’s blush deepen. He tried not to pant like a bitch in heat at the declaration, but it was hopeless. He was gone, gone, gone. Mating bells were ringing in his head. Steve sounded greedy for him. Holy shit. Steve wanted him for keeps. Eddie would do a little jig if he weren’t, y’know, horizontal and busy being utterly seduced.

They were making out again, and Steve’s thigh was between his, pressing up against his wet and sticky cock. Eddie groaned into Steve’s mouth at the friction. It was funny. Eddie had never enjoyed kissing all that much until today. Don’t get him wrong; it was fun sometimes, but more often than not, nothing to write home about. Like, he could do without it easily.

It was nothing like this. Steve tasted like cake and wine and Eddie’s slick, and he knew how to kiss an omega. They fell into sync naturally, both of them going back in for more and more like they would die if they stopped.

Eddie’s lips felt swollen when Steve grabbed his hand—Eddie was a little contrite to note he had just been clutching onto Steve’s side like a lifeline—and guided it to his big, gorgeous cock. It was so heated in his hand. Hard as steel.

“Eddie, baby,” Steve rumbled sweetly in between kisses. “You feel me? You did that because you’re so fucking hot. You have the sweetest slick.”

Eddie squeezed, though he was the one who gasped and shivered as Steve continued to stroke his ego. That was what he’d done. Made Steve hard for him. “I-I feel you,” Eddie responded.

Steve nudged his nose against Eddie’s. “You’re making my knot hurt.” He whined a little as he met Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie ran his thumb along Steve’s throbbing knot reverently and felt an echoing deep throb in his hole, slick running down the back of his thigh.

“You’re gonna let me pop it, huh? I’m gonna fill you up so good. You’ll feel full,” Steve promised. He planned to absolutely ruin Eddie for any other Alpha’s knot. Only his was going to fit. He pulled Eddie’s thigh towards him so he could have access to his ass.

Steve’s rut smell was heady and thick in his nose. Eddie was so thirsty for him that his vision was glazed and blurring, and he was nodding like a bobblehead. “Yes, yeah, yeah, please. Want all of you. Want your knot. Please. Need it, Alpha. Please.”

That was three times he’d said please. His nerves had run away. He really just wanted to be fucked into next Tuesday by his (yes, his!) Alpha.

Steve’s fingertips met so much slick. He rubbed his thumb against Eddie’s hole before pressing his index and middle finger inside. His eyebrows rose, feeling the resistance around his fingers. He slowly twisted his wrist, drilling his fingers to get them in while watching Eddie’s face.

By the time Steve had two fingers inside him, Eddie was so turned on his eyes were trying to roll up in his head, and his leg was trembling around Steve’s hip. Fuck, it felt good. No, it felt fucking incredible. Steve had thick, long fingers. Eddie had watched them closely and touched them when he’d taught Steve how to play the guitar a few years back. (He’d also jerked off furiously after each teaching session because… well because.)

“I know there’s this spot...” Steve worked Eddie open. His tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he focused on feeling it.

Steve’s concentrated expression was hilarious and endearing as hell, but Eddie was in no state to tease him because Steve had found his golden ticket.

“Oh god, oh my god, oh my god,“ Eddie moaned. Too loud, too loud, shit. It had only been a short, experimental press of Steve’s finger pads, but it left Eddie shaking like an overstimulated chihuahua and gushing slick.

“Fuck yeah, there it is.” Steve grinned and added a third finger, readying Eddie to take his knot.

Eddie’s hand had gone limp around Steve’s dick since his brain had leaked out of his ears, but he got with the program again and renewed his grip, stroking Steve from knot to tip to the same rhythm Steve was fingering him.

The head of Eddie’s cock knocked against Steve’s from the fast motions. Eddie whimpered and tightened around Steve’s fingers as pre-come jetted out, hitting Steve’s chest and getting caught in his hair. “Steve, now? Now, please? I’m gonna co—not gonna—make it.”

Fingering was hot and a lot of fun. Steve loved using his hand first. He knew, without the declaration, that Eddie was going to come. “Oh, Eddie,” he said. “Baby, you can come now. I promise it won’t be the only time you’ll get to.”

Steve kept his fingers firmly inside of Eddie. He wasn’t going to stop, especially with the way Eddie was quivering. He was going to make it happen. It’d be cruel to stop and start again with him this close. Steve loved to get omegas off, especially without it directly triggering his own need to come.

It helped that Eddie was touching him. His hand was big and fit around Steve’s cock and knot perfectly, stroking everything. He moaned softly in Eddie’s ear. “You’re making me feel so good. It's so hot that you’re gonna come for me already. Just from my fingers? That’s amazing. You’re such a good omega. You’re easily pleased by your Alpha, aren’t you?”

Another shock to Eddie’s system was Steve’s… kindness towards him. Generosity. Those words didn't go together with sex. He wanted to make Eddie come more than once? Even though he was in rut that had to be demanding he just flip Eddie over and mount him already. It didn't make sense why he was putting Eddie’s needs before his own. It didn’t make any sense at all.

All the Alphas Eddie had ever been with treated him the opposite. It was never good omega. It was always bad omega. Needy slut. Desperate whore. You’re just pathetic for it, aren’t you?

And sure, Eddie looked like the type who would be into that sort of thing, he’d admit. His whole persona kinda screamed I’m a brat, put me in my place. He didn’t look like an omega who wanted to be treated nicely, and he’d never corrected anybody who’d assumed so.

But he was that kind of omega. It actually stung sometimes—okay, every time—he was called names like that. Made him feel as worthless as a broken guitar string. The worst part was that his partners had never had any problem crossing the finish line, even if Eddie had gone limp.

So this, being called good? Being hot? Making Steve feel good? Being his baby…Shit, it was like nothing Eddie had ever experienced, and it was hitting him so hard he probably could have come from the affirmations alone. Eddie was making animal noises instead of actual words. There was a direct line from his ear to his heart to his dick. The prostate stimulation was now just a bonus. The cherry on top.

Steve dug his fingers into the spot he found and jackhammered them as Eddie whined and came between them. Steve kissed him once more before gently pulling his fingers out and pulling back. “I can’t wait to give you my knot.”

Eddie had never come so hard in his life, and as the pleasure center in his brain lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, it became Eddie’s sworn duty—his eternal vow—to make sure he was Steve’s good omega forever.

Eddie could barely kiss back, uncoordinated and panting. “No more waiting,” he swore.

Steve made a little show out of sucking Eddie’s slick from all three of his fingers. He rumbled at the taste. Afterward, he used his hand to push Eddie onto his back. There was a good amount of come on Eddie’s stomach, fresh and glistening. “Goddamn, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie’s last brain cell took a swan dive to its death. Steve was acting like he was a delectable treat. Steve liked Eddie’s taste. Eddie was good.

Eddie flopped back bonelessly against the mattress as Steve maneuvered him, hair that was now mostly dry splaying out on the pillow beneath it. He watched Steve with hearts in his eyes, his post-orgasm scent overpowering the room and almost consuming Steve’s. He felt like he was floating, but also—

“Holy fuck, Stevie, you’re gonna kill me,” Eddie said, completely breathless. Steve had leaned down and was eating his come. The look on his face was predatory and ravenous. He let out a rumbly growl like he was still starving. Eddie’s abs clenched, and his cock gave a valiant twitch, aftershocks wracking his body before settling again as Steve finished his meal. He grinned. “And what a sweet death it’ll be.”

No way he’d rather go.

Steve hadn’t tasted come before. Eddie’s was good; salty and sweet but not as syrupy as his slick. “Definitely not going to kill you, Bambi.” That nickname slipped out easily with Eddie’s long, skinny legs in the crooks of his arms.

Eddie laughed. Now that the edge was off, he felt relaxed and happy, though no less needy. He could make sure his Alpha was taken care of. He wanted to make Steve feel more than good. He wanted to make him feel great and amazing. Eddie spread his legs a little more and lifted his hips, presenting his dripping hole as much as the position would allow. He clenched his muscles purposefully so Steve could see it gape open and closed, smirking playfully at the reaction. “Shove that pretty cock in me. Go as hard as you want. I can really take it.”

Steve didn’t have to hold back any longer. He could let his Alpha out and let it take him over, take what it wanted. Eddie was still soft—his refractory period was a lot slower out of his heat cycle, but he had no doubt he’d get hard again before Steve popped his knot. Honestly, probably as soon as Steve slid home.

The vision in front of Steve felt like a dream. The view of Eddie’s wet and prepped hole was perfect. It felt tight around his fingers. He watched Eddie control himself, and Steve’s jaw dropped in awe. “Okay, so that… that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie grinned, a proud purr erupting from his chest simultaneously. He loved Steve’s reaction so much; how his face went slack and almost amazed. Eddie had done that to him.

Steve had to laugh in disbelief. He’d never been so turned on. He’d never had Eddie, so it made sense. Eddie was telling him he could… could go as hard as he wanted.

Steve was so hard. He didn’t want to hurt Eddie. He guided Eddie’s legs to wrap around him so he could take his cock. He made a noise as he touched himself to Eddie’s hole for the first time, eyes trained on the target. He had to thread himself inside an incredibly tight hole. His eyes widened in surprise as he pushed, and Eddie pulled him in.

“Christ.” He breathed through it. Hot, almost searing, pulsing pleasure surrounded him. All Eddie’s tight resistance would allow was a painfully slow descent. He was so tight it felt like he hadn’t even been prepped.

Eddie crossed his ankles, heels resting along the small of Steve’s back as Steve pressed against his waiting entrance. He was more than ready to be fucked, to be taken, for his ass to be claimed (for all of him to be claimed). It was a pleasurable surprise when there was no shoving. Steve went slow instead. Slow, slow, deliciously slow, filling Eddie up one thick inch at a time. With each push, Eddie let out a soft ah, head tossed back.

Eddie was fully hard again by the time Steve’s knot teased at his rim, rocking against him, and if he didn’t have self-control, tears might’ve sprung to his eyes at just how whole he suddenly felt. Like a fucking missing piece of him had finally slid into place, and Steve was that piece. Jesus Christ. How were his thoughts turning this fucking corny when he wasn't even in heat?

Steve fell forward and caged him in with his arms. Fucking face-to-face was new. Eddie didn’t do missionary. Usually, he’d just be bent over the nearest surface, standing, or on all fours somewhere. He was pretty well acquainted with rug burns and bruised knees. This was intimate.

Steve nudged Eddie’s nose sweetly with his own, then tilted his head back and let out a guttural moan. “Feels like you got me in a goddamn vice, Eddie.”

A small, overwhelmed smile touched Eddie’s lips.  The moan was deep, satisfied, and raised all the hair on Eddie’s arms.

This must have been Steve’s first time. It made sense. Female omegas didn’t have a sweet spot in their ass like guys did. Of course, that didn’t stop greedy Alphas from using that hole anyway, but Eddie was quickly learning Steve was considerate in bed. He probably hadn’t fucked any of his girlfriend’s asses. He was too sweet. The thought was oddly comforting. (Eddie’s head was fucked up, man, okay. He knew it.)

Eddie watched Steve’s face, enrapt, and pet his hands down Steve’s shoulders and chest, wanting to touch. Steve was a beautiful Alpha. Pleasure looked so damn good on him, and he deserved so much. Eddie couldn’t believe his luck. What had he done to deserve him?

There was absolutely no give for Steve’s knot yet. He was used to some. Certainly, Eddie had taken a knot, maybe not as big as his, though. The realization inflated Steve’s ego.

Moving got easier as Eddie adapted and stretched more for Steve as he started moving his hips. “Good omega, you’re so tight for me. You’ve probably never had a cock this big and thick.” Slick started pooling as if on cue, and it made Steve smile. “You’re getting ready for my knot.”

Steve could feel it when he really started fucking Eddie. Eddie was so wet it felt like he had gone into heat for Steve. Steve picked up the pace, rumble growling as he slammed in harder with every thrust, rocking his knot. Steve was feeling frantic, his heart racing and knot throbbing.

“I’ve had guys tell me their dicks were as big as yours,” Eddie replied with a hitched moan. He cracked a grin, toes still curled from the second good omega of the night. Eddie had never smiled or laughed this much during sex before. It was fun. The most fun he’d ever had with anyone. “Always a disappointment. But you’re… fuck, fuck! ” A deep thrust had Eddie spasming around Steve and adding shakily, “Really living up to your nickname, big boy.”

That was the last thing Eddie could say for a while. The mood shifted. His hands were pressed to the pillow on either side of his head, and his fingers interlaced with Steve’s as they went harder and faster until Steve was drilling into him.

Again, it was incredibly intimate. The most vulnerable Eddie had ever felt, and it had nothing to do with the pounding his ass was taking. He was more than naked. His soul was bare. Steve was staring into his eyes like Eddie was the center of his universe—like nothing else mattered. He didn’t think it was just his omega hormones that were being dramatic and romantic. Was it?

Steve didn’t advertise that he had a big dick outside of sex. Sure, he’d mention it, like he just had in context. Eddie calling him big boy always made him blush. He hadn’t fully realized until now it was because of his dick. Steve’s face was already hot; he was sure it was crimson now.

Eddie felt so good he was questioning his sexuality altogether. Of course, he’d admired other men, but fucking one—fucking Eddie—he didn’t know it could feel this good.

Steve didn’t have any complaints about his past, but he didn’t want to fuck anyone else after this. It couldn’t be his rut making him want to claim Eddie. Steve knew he loved and cared about Eddie. He thought Eddie was gorgeous and talented. He was fun and funny, and Steve always felt nauseous when Eddie spent the night out when they were on the road.

The following day, he’d always show up disheveled, alabaster skin bruised and looking worse for wear—almost like he had escaped something dangerous. Steve never liked it, and his Alpha would get snappy. He’d end up blaming his bitchiness on his need for his morning coffee.

Claiming the omega could put a stop to Eddie’s reckless behavior. Steve had had about enough of it after the stage dive tonight.

Eddie’s back bowed, and he squeezed Steve’s hands like they were the only things tethering him to the bed. Whimpering moans punched out of him. It felt so fucking good, his cock was slapping against his stomach, and tears did spring to Eddie’s eyes then just from the sheer intensity of it all.

“Knot me, please?” he begged, feeling that molten hot buzz building up inside him too fast to control. He was about to come again. “Sweetheart. Alpha. Steve. I—I’m ready.”

And he was ready, so ready that I fucking love you had almost slipped free. It was true. It was way too soon to say that. He didn’t want to scare Steve away. But he couldn’t stop his next instinct. Chin lifting, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His neck baring itself, begging to be bitten.

Eddie was begging for his knot. Steve could feel with his thrusts that Eddie was almost there. So was Steve. He’d been in pain, his knot and heart aching in sync.

Eddie bared his neck, and Steve dropped their gaze for the first time since they’d started fucking. He licked his lips. He knew he had to and that he was going to do it. Enough was enough, and Eddie was finally going to be his.

“It’s yours. I’m yours. You’re all fucking mine.” Steve squeezed Eddie’s hands because he was going to do it. Eddie was ready for it—ready for his bite and knot.

Eddie shuddered hard, moaning. He couldn’t believe his ears. His lucky, lucky ears. Steve was giving himself to Eddie, verbally claiming Eddie.

Steve leaned down and kissed the prettiest place for his mark to be forever. It was his favorite spot on Eddie’s neck; his hair could hide it, but part of it would always be on display.

Steve bared down, popped his knot and let out the most pleased, possessive, growly moan he didn’t know he had in him as he locked in and came harder than ever before.

Steve’s knot grew in Eddie. It filled him up, so full he could barely contain it, but he did, closing around it greedily. The noise Steve released as he came made Eddie feel like a prize Steve had won. He sounded victorious. He hadn’t even had to hunt. Eddie had submitted completely to him without being chased. He’d always been by Steve’s side waiting, after all.

Steve’s face buried in his neck, accepting Eddie’s offering. The skin broke under his canines, and Eddie cried out as Steve’s teeth sank deeply into him. It was painful, burning, white-hot stinging—but he loved it. He loved it so fucking much. He loved Steve so fucking much.

Steve tasted Eddie’s blood, signaling a successful claim. A rush of it hit his tongue, and he moaned. He sucked the wound gently and lapped his tongue over it for good measure, making it clean. He pulled back and admired it. It looked so fucking good on him. Steve had an omega now.

It felt like his heart was fluttering out of his chest. It was beating so fast from the amazing sex. Eddie did pop his cherry, literally. He was panting and sweating, his body lightly shuddering from the aftershocks of his orgasm and being tied to Eddie.

Eddie was going to remember this until the day he died. He was going to replay this memory whenever he could, was going to play Steve’s Alpha voice in his mind forever and ever and ever and ever and—

“Yours! Steve, I love you! ” he gasped. He came hard. Even harder than the first time.

Then he promptly passed out.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮❤️️✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Steve hadn’t gotten to touch Eddie’s cock, but clearly, he had come again. Steve was happy he hadn’t broken his promise. He was feeling a little bashful when Eddie told him he was his and that he loved him.

“I love you, too…” he managed to say, but Eddie hadn’t heard him.

Eddie was unconscious. Steve could’ve sworn his heart stopped. “Eddie!” he yelled, and immediately grabbed Eddie’s wrist to check his pulse because had his dick killed him?

Eddie wasn’t sure how much time had passed when his eyes opened to Steve’s panicked face above him. "Whoa. Shit, did I just…”

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Steve said, still wide-eyed, though part of him felt like dying laughing for thinking his dick was capable of committing murder.

Eddie cupped Steve's cheeks with both hands when he was lucid enough to. He laughed in disbelief, stroking the apples of them with his thumbs. “Sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m okay. …Guess I’m not immune to that Steve Harrington fainting charm after all.”

Eddie tilted his chin up to kiss the Alpha (he couldn’t believe he was allowed to do that now) gently and languidly, tasting the sweet iron tang of his blood on Steve’s tongue.

Steve accepted the kiss because, yes, it would make everything better after the fright he had just experienced. It was kind of funny—or would be later when they told people the story of how they had become mates.

Eddie used the last dregs of his energy to roll them over so he was on top, straddling Steve’s knot—which still felt enormous and wonderful, and Eddie was already so addicted to it he was going to be knot-stupid for days. It would be a while before it went down and they unlocked, and he wanted Steve to be comfortable. He’d been holding himself on top of Eddie for a long time.

Steve gasped a little as the switch tugged his knot deliciously. He was happy to rest on his back and get to cup Eddie’s sweet ass. He petted it gently and smiled up at him. They were a hot mess, sticky and wet.

Eddie reached up to touch the marks on his neck with his fingertips. The marks that said Property of Steve. They were sore and throbbing in the best way. “Fuck,” he muttered.

He opened his eyes, unaware he had closed them. He immediately zeroed in on Steve’s neck. Unmarred, pretty skin, waiting for a bite in return. Eddie’s gaze flicked up, and he found himself trapped under Steve’s. His face suddenly flamed as he remembered what he’d said before the world had gone black. I love you.

He felt shame, especially because he was riding such a high right now—his whole body was vibrating with his purr, giving away his feelings that had already been so thoroughly outed.

He wanted to apologize for his behavior, for offering his neck like that when Steve was in rut and not of full sound mind. He’d just wanted it so badly. It had been selfish.

The apology stuck in his throat. Eddie just couldn’t bring himself to say sorry. It wouldn't be genuine. He didn't feel sorry.

“I hope it’s okay… that I did that,” Steve said. “You don’t have to do it back right now. You’ll let me take you out when we get home, right?”

Steve was going to court the hell out of Eddie.

Eddie was fucking floored that one, Steve thought he might not be okay with having been bitten, and two, Steve thought he was worthy enough, respectable enough of an omega that he needed to be formally courted. Eddie never thought he’d be one of those omegas who would get to experience that. As a celebrity, sure, but as himself, as regular Eddie? No way.

He didn’t need any grand gestures—Steve staking his claim was more than enough—but Eddie would admit that it did make his dumb little heart flutter to think about it —just a tad.

“Of course I’ll go out with you, pretty, but you don’t have to go through the trouble of romancing me.” Eddie flashed Steve a smitten smile that showed off his set of canines, much shorter than the Alpha’s but no less sharp. “I’m kind of a sure thing.”

More than kind of. Why play coy now? His heart was in Steve’s hands.

He’d have to bite Steve for their bond to take. Otherwise, his marks would heal and start to fade in a few months. A one-sided claim. The last thing Eddie wanted was for Steve to think Eddie was rejecting him. There was no way, in any world, in any fucking universe where that would happen. It was actually hilarious how unlikely it was.

“I just want to wait a little while. When your rut is over, and you’ve had more time to think about it,” Eddie added in a softer tone.

While part of Eddie—an extremely large fucking portion—wanted to latch onto Steve’s neck like it was a chew toy and never let go, the sober part of him wanted Steve to have some time, with a clear head, to make sure he really did want this.

Steve was slowly coming out of the fog of his rut, but he already knew that being sober from his hormones wasn’t going to change how he felt about Eddie. Eddie could make it official right fucking now, and Steve would probably sing Hallelujah. He was frustrated Eddie had told him he didn’t have to go through any trouble. “I do, and I will go through as much trouble as I think you deserve. Which is a lot.”

Steve wanted to take him on dates, buy him things, and, most importantly, love, protect and respect him. It wasn’t lost on Steve when Eddie told him before they’d started that he didn’t want this to be casual.

“You don’t have to spend your heats alone either. You have an Alpha now, and I’m going to take care of you.” Steve would’ve been dramatic about pulling out the stops if they had put off the fucking part during his rut, but he did think courting was important. Like most things, he’d overcommitted and claimed Eddie as soon as his knot had popped. It was what they’d both wanted deep down. Steve wanted to give Eddie experiences he’d never had, and there would be no more throwing himself into crowds or running off with lousy Alphas.

“Stevie…” Eddie murmured. He chewed on his bottom lip, filled with emotions. Emotions even bigger than the knot inside him. He didn’t believe he was deserving of it, of any of it, but Steve’s solid conviction was making him doubt that a teensy bit.

Nobody had ever wanted to take care of Eddie before. Fuck him, yeah, of course. But care for? That would be a significant change from his heat routine. “I’m going to take care of you, too,” Eddie promised.

He would. Even better than how he was taking care of Steve now. He had already been fiercely protective of the Alpha as his best friend, but with their friend barrier broken down (or levelled up), Eddie’s natural instinct would be to protect Steve and please him even more. Whenever Steve wanted or needed him.

Also, Eddie guessed he would be retiring the Turbo Knotter 3000—hopefully forever. Eddie should probably thank it for its years of faithful service. About a month ago, he had been looking at the new Turbo Knotter 4000 in a sex shop and had been planning on buying it soon. He was glad he hadn’t.

“It’s a good thing you never brought any of the Alphas you’ve been with around. I probably would’ve kicked their asses for not treating you like they should.” Steve knew they hadn’t, and it made him bitchy, witnessing his best friend getting mistreated. “Their loss,” he huffed.

Eddie couldn't repress his chuckle. Steve wanting to defend him was cute as hell but unnecessary. Smartly, Eddie didn't say what he was thinking—that they'd treated him fine, that it was normal for a guy like him to be slapped around during sex, never anything out of the ordinary.

In the past, he'd noticed a pattern of Steve’s bad moods swinging on the mornings after Eddie had been with someone. He’d be tense during soundcheck or snippy with everybody while they had breakfast. Eddie still didn't understand why it was a big deal, but he regretted upsetting the Alpha each time.

(He had a feeling Steve wouldn’t be very pleased if he ever found out tonight wasn’t the only time he’d passed out during sex. The other time, it had been after some erotic asphyxiation gone wrong. It had been unplanned, mostly unasked for, and after that night, Eddie had never tried it again. Or at least, he’d requested it not be done to him.)

Eddie had to kiss Steve again. More than just a need. It was vital. Eddie was amused and flattered to note Steve’s hands were still on his ass as he carefully leaned down.

“You’re just unreal, you know that?” Eddie murmured. His hair fell off his shoulders, curtaining each side of Steve’s face. He copied Steve’s move from earlier, giving him a gentle nuzzling, nose to nose, before kissing him thoroughly.

Steve’s hands navigated up from Eddie’s ass to his back as he kissed back with a deep, satisfied rumble. He rubbed it gently. Eddie smelled like him now. There would be no mistaking that he wasn’t Steve’s. It was incredible. It almost didn’t feel real. Could this be the best dream he’d ever had? If so, he didn’t want to wake up.

“Goddamn angel.” Eddie smiled at him. Steve was still wearing his stage makeup, looking particularly angelic, if not innocent, as he blinked up at Eddie in gold. “Do you wanna come home with me tomorrow? To Hawkins?”

Besides the fact that Eddie would probably (definitely) be climbing the walls and biting his nails down to the bone if they were states apart in the next few days, he knew Wayne would love to see Steve. Especially if they were going to be mated in the near future. Wayne already considered Steve to be like his son, so Eddie was sure it’d go over well and his uncle would be happy for them.

Maybe it would be better if Eddie gave Steve the space alone to think, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to curl up in the jet with his Alpha, then take him to their old puphood haunts and kiss him silly all over their small-minded little town. He had also long since bought Wayne a house to replace his trailer so they wouldn’t even have to sleep in Eddie’s old twin bed.

Steve laughed a little and blushed. What he had done to Eddie wasn’t angelic, but hearing Eddie say something so sweet about him made him smile. “Yes. I don’t want to go anywhere without you,” Steve said honestly. He didn’t want Eddie going anywhere without him either. “You’re my omega.”

Fuck, that was music to Eddie’s ears. Steve’s omega. “I am,” Eddie confirmed.

Steve gently tucked Eddie’s hair behind his ears so he could see his face. “You’re so pretty, Eddie.”

The compliments weren’t going to stop now that they’d fucked. Now, he could just say what he was thinking.

Eddie’s purr ratcheted up even more, though he complained with a quiet, “ Steeeve,” because he didn’t know what to do with himself. How to act. He’d never purred so much in his life. He was going to get a sore throat.

“It’ll be fun to go home. I want to take you on a date to the place we met.” Going back to The Hideout would be romantic, but it was probably still a dive.

Going on a date would be fun. They’d made a lot of memories at The Hideout. Eddie would never forget the first time he saw Steve’s face in the crowd, how preppy and out of place he’d looked surrounded by drunks in ripped jeans and leather, watching the band play—watching Eddie. But he’d fallen into place with them so quickly. The perfect fit.

Eddie smirked. “I fully expect you to get up on the stage and serenade me,” he joked. “Better get busy writing me a love song.”

Steve’s heart fluttered. “I think serenading you is all I’ve ever been doing.” He laughed at the realization. He loved to sing, but seeing Eddie’s reaction to him doing it almost brought the same amount of pleasure. “It’s funny that you think I’ll have to write one and don’t already have one up my sleeve.”

Steve had written about Eddie before, but now he had a hell of a lot more material.

Somehow, Steve had managed to turn his joke into the most romantic thing Eddie had ever heard. He didn't even have a response. Damn Steve and his smoothness.

“Its been so long since I’ve been home,” Steve added. “I think the pups will be happy to see us, though I guess none of them are really pups anymore.” Steve laughed and rubbed his hands over his face. He was always going to feel like the pupsitter.

Eddie’s smirk softened into a smile. Steve’s pups. Not his biological ones, but basically adopted. Eddie had herded them into the fold, but Steve was the one who’d taken care of them like the protective Alpha mother he was.

“I wanna fuck you at skull rock, too.”

“Oh, the famous skull rock.” Eddie turned his head and kissed Steve’s palm, then nipped it playfully. He batted his eyelashes. “Take me to prom, too? I’ll wear your corsage.”

He was sure his prom experience, had he had one, would’ve been much more fun with Steve on his arm.

“Yes, that skull rock. The one that I made famous.” Steve leaned up to nuzzle Eddie and nibbled on him for the palm bites he received. God, he was so insatiable now that he had gotten a taste. “Of course I’ll take you to prom! Good thing I got that pesky virginity thing out of the way. We’ll probably both be crowned prom kings.”

It was a fun fantasy to think about. He’d taken Nancy to prom, and he was crowned Prom King, but Tammy Thompson had been Prom Queen—which reminded him that Robin was going to fucking die when she found out that he’d claimed Eddie.

“I’m okay with being a queen,” Eddie said. He sat up, making them both groan, and motioned to his ass. “Clearly.”

Steve’s knot was fully deflated now, and Eddie’s legs were starting to go tingly from being folded so long. Eddie slowly lifted himself off. He didn’t want to be empty, but he had no doubt it wouldn't be for long.

Steve groaned softly when Eddie dismounted. He felt at home inside of him, but his knot had deflated, so they weren’t tied anymore. They had just been chatting away in the afterglow anyway.

He watched Eddie gracefully saunter over to the bathroom door even though Steve’s come was trickling down his legs. It was a sight for his sore eyes. He couldn’t wait to fill him up again and again.

Eddie glanced over his shoulder, turning on his best British accent. “I’m filthy, your highness. Does the king care to join me for a royal bathing?”

Steve grinned at the invitation and leapt up to join him in the bathroom. He gathered Eddie’s hair to the side so they could see Steve’s mark on him in the mirror. Steve rumbled. He was so proud of it and Eddie.

He wrapped his arms around Eddie’s middle protectively as Eddie checked it out. Steve squeezed him tightly and kissed all over his bite. “Mine.” 

[jenscx]

ATTENTION 30 — alpha side (half-written)

you had almost just rushed out of your dorm, eager to see minji, but a certain bunny was blocking your way.

“oh? unnie, where are you going?” wonyoung stares at you awkwardly. she’s your confidant, your saviour in this group.

“going to see minji…” you confess. wonyoung’s eyes brighten and you can sense that she’s about to unload a tsunami of questions.

her face suddenly turns conflicted and she turns to you with a look of determination, “unnie!”

“yes?” you reply, a little wary of your group mate now.

“you have to ask minji-ssi on a date today, if you come back and don't do so, i’m not letting you in the dorm!” your eyes widen at her demand. asking minji…?

“wonyoung-ah, don’t act so rash… minji and i are still a little hesitant around each other—”

“no? danielle told me that you two are really close now? texting almost every day! and you even said goodnight to her on bubble!” if you weren’t so taken aback by her proposal, you would find her little tantrum cute.

you slowly nod to her request, “it’s true that we are becoming closer now but i’m planning to let minji take the first move again.”

“why?”

“don’t you remember that stunt she pulled on me?” you scoff, “wonyoung, I’m giving her this chance to finally show me that she’s serious. if she doesn’t take it, i’ll know what type of relationship we truly have.”

the tall visual stares at you, unwavering. you can already sense what she’s thinking, i don’t remember unnie being so calculating before.

“psh, unnie! you should have just said that from the start!” wonyoung rolls her eyes. you laugh awkwardly.

“can i go now? minji’s probably waiting for me.”

wonyoung steps aside and salutes you, her childish yet adorable side showing as she cheers you on, “don’t do anything rei would do!”

“of course!”

your manager doesn’t ask any questions about your budding friendship (or relationship?) with minji. it’s quite drastic to be frank, so you wouldn’t have minded any curiosity, especially from someone that witnessed firsthand your hatred for the young leader.

you pull up your mask at the thought of how brazen you acted. hating each other for nothing… well, at least it led to this.

this? what could you call this? even the thought of minji makes you flustered. the car’s air-conditioning works perfectly fine, but you’re still flushed to your neck and even your ears. thank god it’s dark, if not your manager would witness your similarity to a tomato. if over text she already makes you a blushing mess, in real life… you would probably be reduced to putty just by her voice.

it’s shameful to admit this, but you watched minji’s lives just to listen to her voice and sometimes even fell asleep while doing so. luckily none of your members have caught you yet, you would not be able to live peacefully afterwards.

“yn-ssi? we’re here.”

you thank your manager and pull your cap further down your head, hoping no one would recognise you and ask for an autograph. it was kind of vulnerable being out so late without any bodyguards or security.

you make quick steps to the group’s apartment, having visited once beforehand when the leader wasn’t around. hanni and danielle had invited you over to celebrate your birthday then, but minji was out doing a photoshoot with the maknaes of the group.

feather knocks resounded on the door, contrast to the obnoxiously loud pounding of your heart.

“minji-yah, it’s unnie.” if you were any more bold, you would have called her by her nickname. but you knew, chances are that hyein would be on the other side of the door and the poor leader would have to suffer a lifetime of teasing.

the door quickly swings open and gasps immediately leave the lips of the other members.

“yn unnie!” hyein being the first one to speak. she’s dressed in cute dinosaur pyjamas— you wondered where they got one fit for her height.

“hi! can i come in?”

the girls all step aside, revealing a bashful kim minji watching you from the couch.

“ah… you’re here already…”

“you knew about yn unnie coming? what type of unnie are you?! i’m dressed in some ridiculous pyjamas!” hyein whines. you try to argue that you find it adorable but someone else butts in.

“why else would minji unnie be so happy? hyein-ah, use your brain,” haerin retorts, dressed in an equally charming cat onesie. your eyes wander over the girls, realising they’re all dressed in some sort of animal pyjamas.

all except for…

“minji even took off her onesie because it was too embarrassing!”

“i took it off because it was too hot!”

“no, you probably thought you looked silly in front of yn unnie,” hanni retorts in english.

minji groans, “bro, i am not arguing with you right now. go bother haerin or something.”

you laugh, finding their whole interaction even sillier than how they looked in their animal onesies.

(and maybe a little attractive since minji’s voice while speaking english just feels so much more enchanting.)

the eldest has a pout on her face, arms crossed as she sits on the couch, unwilling to face hanni, who’s currently making kissy faces at minji.

“i’m sorry you had to witness that,” minji mumbles as you take a seat next to her.

“oh? it was funny though? i liked it,” you lean in particularly close to whisper the next few words, “especially the part where you spoke in english.”

minji turns to you, startled and cheeks ablaze.

“unnie…”

you lean back on the couch, satisfied with minji’s response and reaction.

“what’s up with this onesie occasion though?” you ask, genuinely curious.

minji looks baffled as she speaks, “haerin wanted to have a costume party… and everyone got roped in.”

“where’s yours?”

she sighs, “i took it off. it was so embarrassing having to wear that, and you were coming over, so it would be a bit awkward to greet you in such a silly costume.”

your eyes sparkle at the thought of minji in a onesie.

“let’s go to your room, i have to see you in a onesie.”

minji, a little hesitant, eventually caves in when you give her your best puppy eyes.

(the rest of newjeans watch on in disgust, happiness and envy, but that last one is mostly from hyein.)

minji’s room is spacious and clean, you realise. there’s barely a speck of dust and her bed is filled with plushies. on top of her desk is a cork board, one plastered with pictures of her group mates on various trips.

“i’ll go to the washroom to change,” minji clears her throat, “just sit on my bed.” you nod and take a seat on her well-kempt bed.

there’s a theme of bears repeated in her daily items; bear slippers, bear stickers, bear mugs…

you wondered if her onesie…

“oh my god, minji!” you exclaim, “you look so cute!”

truly, at that point in time, minji held all your affection. a clumsy and awkward kim minji, dressed in an adorable brown fuzzy bear onesie… you didn’t know how she managed to be so lovely.

you don’t even resist the urge to hug her anymore. minji was already your weakness. with the addition of the bear pyjamas, you could barely hold on.

throwing yourself around her, you snuggle into the faux fur, squealing, “jinnie, you’re so fucking cute, holy shit.”

minji, cautiously places her arms around your waist, returning the embrace.

“ah… unnie…”

“minji, please let me take photos of you,” you beg, and how could minji say no to a face like that?

“don’t post them though,” she mutters.

you stare at her, boldness in your eyes, “of course not, these photos are solely reserved for me, and only me.”

“unnie, don’t say things like that!”

after using up your whole storage on minji, you’re finally done snapping photos of the now shy bear that’s hiding under her bedsheets.

“unnie, are you staying the night?” she asks softly.

“i didn’t bring any pyjamas though?” you say.

minji seems even more shy now, as she whispers out, “want to borrow mine?”

ah, you think, gazing at the girl, i’m screwed.

masterlist | next

TAGS ! @ky-yk @urmom2314 @nasyu-kookies @limbforalimb @yoontoonwhs @be0mluver @lesleepyyy @eunhhh @edamboon @sewiouslyz @haerinfangs @impossiblesharkcashrebel @mightymyo @dexthzone @pandafuriosa60 @dmndtears @awkwardtoafault @hyehae @sserajeans @haerinkisser @chaerybae @yukianism @urwyf3 @manooffline @yerisdumbass @jeindall777 @jiwoneiric @justme-idle @imthisclosetokms

[andbreakmynose]

cowboy films on gloomy afternoons

you loved everything about working at your local cinema, besides that one employee who just really confused you. he's just as pretentious as you thought but maybe he's also... something else.

WARNINGS: smut!! p-in-v, soft dom! al, one use of slut, office sex, age gap (unspecified, reader is in university). this is really fucking self indulgent

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

written with tbhc alex in mind because tbh he's the only one i can imagine being this level of pretentious tbh

You believed that you truly had the perfect job. For a film student, working as the projectionist at the little independent cinema across the street really was too good to be true. You spent your long hours watching movies—the kind that mattered. Sometimes you’d get stuck with the blockbuster of the week, but you were mostly met with true classics and arthouse features, which not only stuck with you long after watching but actually helped you get ahead in class. Your workspace was cramped and less than ideal, but not even that made you hate the job. You were surrounded by what felt like cinema history in unused rolls of film and posters left over from all 78 years the theater had been open, plus there was a half-decent couch to nap on. And yeah, you got free soda and snacks from it. Perfect.

The company was nice too; if the film ran long and you felt like you needed to stretch your legs, you could walk down to the never-busy lobby and talk to Lucy at the concessions counter (and steal some food) or Dylan at the ticketing stand. Somehow you even got a pretty good boss; Marty was one of the coolest and most experienced people you had ever met. He also wasn’t ever that busy, so he could help you with your homework if you really needed it.

But there’s always that one confusing co-worker, isn’t there? The one that’s either always out for the day or just plain weird. You had Alex. He worked in programming, getting to decide what movies the theater would show regardless of anyone else’s opinions. And goddamn, he was really good at it. Almost every showing you saw was completely sold out (who knew Sheffield had such an audience for auteur films?). But every time you praised his talent, he’d just... shrug it off. He was an enigma wrapped in an encyclopedia of film knowledge.

The problem with Alex is that he was aloof and painfully so. At team meetings, he’d stay in the corner, and you never really saw him out of the office. He also had a habit of being fickle; one day he’d decide he wanted to do an entire week of Tarkovsky films, and the next he’d want to do 1940’s horror films instead. His behavior echoed the type of students that would be dismissed in your class as ‘obnoxiously pretentious’, and god he was, you still remembered the time he went off on poor Marty for suggesting they show a Star Wars movie. But you were still interested in what he had to say; you loved Lucy and Dylan, but they couldn’t hold a conversation about a movie. Alex could, you assumed, if he was able to hold a conversation at all.

The first time you ever talked to him in private was when you went to ask about the copy of the film that was being shown. You had heard there was both a director's cut and a theatrical cut, so you wanted to make sure which you were playing. He answered your question with one sentence; “Director’s. Why the hell would I pick the theatrical edition?” And then went back to his work. It was a while before you talked to him again.

The next time you talked to him was for the same reasons, he seemed a little deep in his work when you came down to his office but you had 20 minutes before credits hit and your boss needed you to do this now. It was something about a high paying donor having a desperate question, whatever.

This exchange was almost the same, except this time he insisted that it was the theatrical cut and that the director’s cut was cash-grab bullshit. Ever the confusing man. You started on your way out when he called at you.

“Hey, what’s your favorite movie?”

It was an unexpected question, he never asked you anything let alone a personal question. It must be a trap, he wanted to hear your favorite movie and then would make fun of you for it. And it’s not that you had bad taste or anything, you're just sure he could find a way to tease you for literally anything you said.

“C’mon, I don’t have all day.” He says, an almost bored expression on his face.

You hesitated in choosing your words, anxious not to provoke the irritation you had seen in men like Alex, even though you knew he was likely to remain impassive. And even though you hadn’t seen him lose his temper, his distant demeanor made you uneasy, as if any slight could provoke a reaction. You had no reason to be scared but you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease in your bones.

Alex on the other hand finally turned to face you fully. He had been observing you for a while, you were always around and so was he, and he noted that you also seemed genuinely interested in the films and not just your paycheck. He also found himself begrudgingly noticing that you always wore the same type of skirt, ending right above your knees. He thought that if you were a character in a film it’d be one of your defining traits.

“Mulholland Drive.” You coughed up after a second of thinking. It was an answer that was both honest and, perhaps, intended to impress him. You didn’t want to dwell on whether that was your true intention or not though, you had other things to do.

Alex felt a flicker of satisfaction at your choice. He anticipated a more predictable answer, so Mulholland Drive was certainly a more compelling choice. In his mind, it confirmed that his suspicions were true; you were a different type of girl than any other employee he had seen in his 10 years of working at this theater. Maybe he really was pretentious, but he felt like if anyone was to work with him it should be people like you. He gave you a satisfied nod and a hum of approval, returning to the emails at his desk. He found you just as mysterious as he found you, he wanted to tear down the layers you had shown to everyone else.

Taking that as your sign to leave, you made sure to stop at the concessions stand for a bag of popcorn before going back up to the projectionists booth.

Two weeks later was when things started to change.

Alex had started to smile more, but you decided that was just because it was warm outside again. He had an interesting smile, it was warm and took up his entire face. It wasn’t the smile you’d expect him to have, you expected him to have a sneer if he was even capable of smiling.

You always liked to look at the schedule of films for the next week when they dropped on Thursday afternoons, you’d compare it to your classes’ syllabus to see if there was anything you could watch to get ahead. It seemed like Alex had decided on cowboy films for the next week, he’d done Sergio Leone before but this was just… a lot of 1960’s cowboy movies you had never even heard of. Nothing that would be helpful at all for you.

In between ‘Navajo Joe’ and ‘Billy the Kid Versus Dracula’ (god, where did he even discover these things), your eyebrows shot up. In the midst of all these damn horse operas he had snuck in… Mulholland Drive.

To say there were a million thoughts going through your head would be an understatement. A small, selfish part of you wanted him to have included the film because he had a soft spot for you, maybe this was his way of saying he saw how much you liked movies too. The logical part of your brain told you that there was some other reason, maybe an anniversary or something.

Checking the remaining time on Sabrina (Alex was on an Audrey Hepburn kick this week), you saw you had an hour left. That was plenty of time to wander the lobby and see if you could catch Alex. You slipped your phone into your pocket and climbed down the ladder from the projectionist’s booth to the lobby, praying to every god possible that Alex is somewhere to be found.

Lucy called out to you the second she saw you, beckoning you over with popcorn. You sighed and walked over, smiling at her.

“Hey look, I can’t talk for too long… have you seen Alex? Urgent question from someone at the screening.” It’s an utter lie, your mother would’ve reprimanded you for how filthy it was. But you needed to talk to him.

Lucy thought for a second, tapping her chin with her finger before she remembered. “He’s in his office, he’s always in his office, remember?” She said like it’s the most obvious thing ever. You nodded and gave a thumbs up, taking a handful of popcorn in your mouth before standing up again.

And that’s how you ended up in his office again, although you were shyer this time. If it was actually a question from a patron you’d ask it so easily, but this time it was your own. He’d have to give you an insight into his mind, you weren’t sure if he had ever done that before.

Your foot tapped lightly as you knocked on the door to his office, you heard him shuffle some papers around and groan.

“Come in.”

You have to take a deep breath before you open the door, there’s no reason this stupid movie should be making you feel this nervous but god…

“You’re gonna make me watch shitty westerns for an entire week, Turner?” You say with a small smirk, you embarrassingly had thought of your words all day. You didn’t want to just come in and ask him about why he picked your favorite film.

His eyes darted over to you the second you walked in, slowly taking you in. You had on the same skirt as last time. “I was watching one at home last night and was reminded of how brilliant the genre was. What, you don’t like a good shoot-em-up?” He asks you with raised eyebrows, leaning back slightly in his desk chair. Of course he liked westerns.

“Not my thing at all.” You replied, taking a small step closer to him. His hair was messier today than it usually was, his beard had gotten longer. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a bit, although he never looked like he got a lot of sleep. “Is it yours? Is your favorite film a western?”

He took note of how you were asking his favorite, the same way he asked yours. Smart girl. He smirked and shook his head, “Nah. My favorite film is ‘Le Samouraï’, you seen it?” Alex wouldn’t judge if you hadn’t seen it, but if you have it just might make you his favorite person on the planet.

You have to rack your brain on what you’ve heard of this film before, maybe it’s been mentioned in class before, you haven’t seen it. “No. Is that a sin?” You asked, leaning against a file cabinet in his office. His office was definitely bigger than the projection booth, he had made it very Alex.

Alex scoffed and shook his head, “I’m sad you haven’t seen it because it’s so brilliant but not mad. They haven’t taught you Melville in that expensive film school yet? You’re getting ripped off, sweetheart.” He matched your comfortable stance by leaning further back into his desk chair and crossing his legs. He had noticed that you aren’t scared of him, not even intimidated by his knowledge. He liked that, he liked talking to you.

“I’ve heard the name, we just haven’t watched it yet.” You respond, looking for the next thing to say to bring you to your point. “But I guess you’ve seen my favorite film, right? I saw you included Mulholland Drive in the lineup, was that a coincidence or are you being deliberate?”

Alex laughed at your words, of course you picked up on that. You really were too smart for your own good. “Well I suppose it’s a bit of both. I wanted something different in case not every regular audience member was on board with my westerns-’ he paused to roll his eyes, as if that thought disgusted him, “but yes. I figured it might be a pleasant surprise for someone with a discerning taste.” His eyes met yours and he smiled again, mostly because he saw a smile creeping on your face. He wanted to keep you smiling.

There was something about him admitting that it’s for you that made you feel… something. You didn’t quite know what. Maybe excited? You were excited and felt validated that he found your taste in film good enough to put on a lineup. You liked that he was perceiving you. “You’re saying you picked it for me? And here I thought you were just gonna be cryptic... What's your angle here?” You asked him; the smile was still on your face, but now your eyebrows were raised.

“Ah.” Alex uncrossed his legs, finally standing up. He got a little closer to you; he wanted to make stronger eye contact with you. “A great teacher back when I was in film school told me that it’s not just about what you watch; it’s about connecting. Maybe it’s all worth it if I can connect with someone who also appreciates the genius of Mulholland Drive.” Pretentious bastard; even his flirting was fucking pretentious. You would’ve made fun of him if you weren’t fighting back a blush.

You took another second to decide your words; it wasn’t often you were speechless, but you were now. "Well, I didn’t expect you to remember, let alone care enough to do that. Maybe there’s more to you than I thought... but don’t get any ideas about being my hero because you saved me from a complete week of westerns.” You had to throw an quip in there; without it, you thought your words felt too… vulnerable. You weren’t sure you were there with Alex yet.

He had to admit that you were funny, even if it was obvious what you were trying to say. He let out a laugh and shook his head. “I’m not trying to be your hero, sweetheart. I just figured that someone who loves the film as much as you deserves to see it on the big screen. Even if it’s from your tiny projection booth.”

His words, once again, leave you stunned. That was really sweet—maybe the top 5 sweetest things anyone had ever done for you. It was almost impossible not to blush and grin at him, and your body betrayed you by making you step forward. “Yeah? That’s… nice. But if you’re not trying to impress me, what’s your real game here? Or do you just have a thing for making people feel special?” You asked him; your smile was somewhere between teasing him and being genuinely flattered.

“You are special.” He responded, also taking a step forward. You started to feel his breath on your face; somehow just this one conversation had made you go from being terrified of him and thinking he’s so pretentious to wanting him.

As if he could read your mind, he reached forward and placed his hand on your hip, giving it a small squeeze. “Maybe I just enjoy challenging expectations; I can’t always be the mysterious bastard in the office. And like I said, you’re special.” His voice lowered, and his face got impossibly closer to yours.

Against all odds of being at work, and that just a week ago you thought he was the most confusing man on the planet, you needed to fucking kiss him. And you did; you took a half step forward and smashed your lips against his. He kept his hand on your hip, squeezing the soft skin as he pushed your back against the filing cabinets. You guessed that he wanted you as bad as you wanted him because he was practically sucking your face; you thought that was just a saying. It was an absolute mess of tongue on tongue and teeth on teeth; your noses even collided a few times as his beard scratched your face. It was uncomfortable in the best way; it was damn hot.

You moaned the very first second you felt his hand grope at your ass and his mouth slip from your lips to your neck. “So fucking pretty, so good,” he muttered before he started to attack your neck. It was an added sensation to have his beard pressing against you alongside his mouth (and teeth; he almost teethed at you). He definitely would leave more marks than just hickeys, but you were so in pleasure you didn’t even have time to think of work.

Oh fuck, work. You cursed silently to yourself and looked up at the clock, just as his hand started to snake under your blouse and over your bra, giving your tit a nice squeeze. “Fuck!” you called out, not just from the intense pleasure but from the fact that you only had another 30 minutes left before you told yourself you needed to be back in the booth. In an ideal world, you’d have an entire night with him.

He continued his mouth’s attack on your neck and hand’s attack on your breasts, feeling his pants start to become tighter; he could only imagine how wet you were. His fantasies were interrupted by you pulling him away and sighing, trying to catch your breath. “Alex… Alex I don’t have much time before I need to go. Do you want-”

He interrupted you this time with his hand coming up to squeeze your lips together, promptly making you shut up. “You got enough time for me to fuck you? Because I’m going to fuck you,” he said as if he'd already decided, and then he started to work with the hand not on your face to unbuckle his belt.

You weren’t able to really form words, so you just whined and nodded, giving him that permission he wanted. He took it quickly, flipping you over and bending you over his desk, your tiny skirt riding up so he could get a view of your pants. You were soaked; he knew you would be. His large thumb started to trace your folds before he made a ‘tsk’ noise and flipped you over again. He wanted to see your face, he decided. Alex Turner was nothing if not confusing.

“This wet only from a little kissing, god, sweetheart, I didn’t know I was dealing with a slut. Although I could’ve guessed from these tiny skirts you keep wearing.” His voice is cool and calm, a complete contradiction from how sinful his words were. You whined at them.

“Alex please. We don’t have much time; please just fuck me!” You cried out, hastily pulling your skirt down so he had easier access. Alex nodded and began to work faster on pulling his pants down. He was so goddamn aroused watching you act like this; you were such a gorgeous girl, and now he had you completely under his control. You moaned loudly, and he grunted, bringing his hand up over your mouth.

“Sweetheart, I’d love to hear all those pretty little noises, but not now. I’m not getting fired because you had to talk all sweet to me and get bent over.” It was an unholy whisper into your ears, causing your skin to shiver. You nodded, and he took that as a sign to slip your panties down. “Knew you’d have a pretty cunt.”

If it was even possible, his words caused you to get even wetter. You could’ve guessed that he was big from the hardness in his jeans, but by the time he slipped his pants and boxers off, you were left gasping against his hand. There was an underlying fear—how the hell was that supposed to fit inside of you?—but also a great arousal because THAT was supposed to be inside of you. Alex tilted his head down to look at your pussy before he smirked, adjusting himself so he could get closer to your entrance.

Your cunt started to clench around nothing, getting excited just at the sheer closeness of his cock. He looked at your entrance again before he spat on his hand and started to rub it along his length as extra lubrication. “I don’t want to hurt you, babygirl,” he whispered before gently forcing the head into your heat, causing you to scream against his hand.

He shushed you again as he kept pushing himself further in; all of your tiny moans and whines were hidden by his hand, but that was for the best; he’d hear them eventually. You were so tight, so warm, and in that very moment Alex decided he was never going to fuck another girl in his life.

When he bottomed out, you gave in and bit at his hand; it was the only way you could keep an actual scream from coming out. You felt so full, you could even feel him throbbing in your cunt (or maybe that was your walls clenching; it could be both). He smirked and started to move, setting a pace that was relentless. He’d prefer to take you apart slower, but you didn’t exactly have the time for that.

His cock was hit every spot in you that made you mewl and arch your back; it was like he knew things about your body that you didn’t. His eyes were focused like you were one of those damn emails he was always writing; it was hot to you that he was that focused on your pleasure. Gentle grunts started to fall out of his mouth as the hand not on your mouth came up to twist at your nipples. The pleasure was starting to become unbearable, and you weren’t sure how much longer you had until you started crying.

You knew you were close when a particularly hard thrust caused your eyes to roll so far back in your head it hurt, so you brought your thumb down to your clit. You needed to cum, and you didn’t care what you had to do to achieve that.

Alex cared though; he wanted to be the one to make you cum. He took his hand off of your nipple and smacked yours off your clit, causing you to whine at the loss of sensation. “None of that. If you needed that, you could’ve just asked,” he grunted, bringing his thumb down to your sensitive bud. It was a funny thing for him to say, as you couldn’t exactly speak, but you still bucked up at his manipulation.

His pace started to become sloppy; you knew he was close too. His breath was also starting to become staggered, and you could almost see a tremble in his legs. You’d never seen him this undone, and it was so damn arousing that you caused it. Alex had already memorized all the spots that made you shake and whine; he knew you were close, so he made sure to hit them all on his thrusts. He knew he didn’t have much time left, and he wanted to make sure you didn’t leave unsatisfied.

It was a particular stroke where he somehow managed to hit your g-spot and pinch your clit at the same time that had you over the top. You felt your legs start to shake and your back arched. You were sure the noises coming from your mouth were starting to get louder than his hand-cranked control, but you didn’t care. You didn’t even care when your hand spilled the pencil cup on his desk all over the floor. All you cared about was that you were cumming and he was making you cum.

Alex grinned at the sight of you becoming this undone because of him. That was what sent him over the edge—the idea that it was his work that just made you coat his member in juices. He pushed until the last second, until his cock was actually twitching, and then he pulled out. The loss of contact was hardly noticed, and he came all over his office floor just by seeing how fucked out you were. You still hadn’t caught your breath, but you were watching him with awe. His dick was really damn nice, and now it was leaking so much cum onto the floor.

He collapsed onto his desk chair and reached for a tissue from his desk. He wiped off his cock before tucking it back into his boxers and then wiped off your pussy, cleaning up the table too. He threw the tissue away and made a mental note to take his own office trash out later.

Once you had caught your breath enough, you stood up, legs still wobbly, and put your pants back on. It took a second, but eventually you had them and your skirt on. Alex just smirked at you.

“That was... good,” you said with a small smile. You were starting to get shy being around him; you just fucked him, and now you had to go back to work.

“It was. You’re uh, you’re perfect. I meant it when I said you’re special.” His smirk turns into a genuinely warm smile, and he brings his thumb up to trace your chin. There was a faint mark on your mouth from him keeping you quiet. You looked down at his cum on the floor, raising your eyebrows in a silent offer to clean it up. He just shook his head; he’d deal with that.

You nodded and sighed, “I should probably get back to work... I don’t look like I just had sex, do I?” Your hair was slightly messy and your shirt was wrinkled, but it also always was. “No one will notice sweetheart,” he replied with a bit of a laugh. He was glad this was your secret.

"Right, uh, thank you, Alex?” It comes out as a question; you’re not sure if you should thank your co-worker for making you cum like that. He shook his head and stood up. “No, thank you for being such a damn good fuck and a special girl.”

You smiled at this; his words gave you a slight hope that maybe this would happen again. You opened his door when he called out to you.

“Sweetheart, I was thinking that maybe I could come up with you and watch Mulholland Drive next week.” It was an optimistic idea; he was worried that you only wanted to fuck. But you grinned and nodded, “I’d really love that; we even have a couch up there.”

He chuckled and stepped closer to you, placing his hand on your chin again. “A couch, fancy!” He joked before he pressed a singular peck on your lips; he wanted you to know that you meant something more than a fuck in the only way he knew how. He wasn’t exactly the best with words. You laughed back at him.

“Alright then, it’s a date.” You grinned at him before leaving his office; you would’ve stayed longer, but time really was running out. You were so lucky that Lucy seemed to be on a bathroom break; you didn’t have to deal with her asking why you were in Alex’s office for so long.

When you got settled back in the projection booth and the credits began to roll, you took a minute to think about what the fuck had just happened, and when you opened your phone, the list of his stupid fucking westerns was still on it. But that was Alex, and maybe you liked that about him.

A/N: yeah like i said... self indulgent (i used to work at a cinema lol). but i'm already obsessed with this version of alex ahh.