#i knew from DAY ONE that this was coming. he literally checks all the boxes for me to be unhinged about him

[0rchidm4ntis]

[paranoiddreams]

Boyfriend Sukuna! (HC)

𖤓 Sukuna x gn!reader

𖤓 Warnings!! - explicit language, mentions of killing and crime in general lol, general filthiness in a few of them bc it’s Sukuna, a hint of toxicity 😜,

𖤓 A/n!! - gonna make this a series, I think I’m gonna do either Satoru or Toji next, lmk what you guys think :3

- He LOOOOVES a good argument, especially if it’s escalated to a screaming match

- Only because it turns him on so much when someone has the BALLS to speak up to him.

- He’s a very physical person, so expect to be bit, squeezed, yanked, or picked up by this monster of a man at any time of the day.

- Speaking of, he’s a tough-strong-killer during the day, and a cuddle bug at night. But not like you’re thinking. I’m talking full on manhandling you into a fetal position on his chest so he can wrap all of his arms around you.

- Definitely the type of guy who always has to have some sort of physical contact with you at all times. Whether it’s an arm around your waist, or your hand wrapped around his pinky, he needs to feel that you’re right next to him.

- He’s not going to apologize, at least verbally. So don’t expect those two words. But, do expect the most lavish dresses/suits, jewelry, food fit for a whole Royal family, and good ass sex.

- If we’re talking Heian!Sukuna, he’s going to use 80% of his money on custom tailored fancy silk clothing in all colors and designs for you. He’ll have the royal tailor come every other week to measure you and get all of your requests, and then a day later the softest, most beautifully made clothes come in fancy boxes.

- And if we’re talking Modern!Sukuna, I feel like he’d make a good income on killing, stealing, and finessing people (lmao) so he’ll use most of that on shit for you. Even the most girly, cutesy, hello-kitty-esque things, he’ll just grimace and shove the cash in your hands (bc I see this man using ONLY cash). Although, this takes a while for him since I feel he’s more cautious in modern times with everyone, including you at first.

- Speaking of, he knows your body like the back of his four hands babe. He knows because he’s dedicated most of his time to making you cum I’m so many different ways, seeing which feels the best for you. Sometimes, he’ll use the more torturous, slow methods, but when you’re being a brat, he’ll use the quickest methods to draw the most orgasms out of you that he can🤧

- Has literally said: “The two things I have dedicated myself to the most in life is bloodshed and pleasuring you.”

- Does he call you “woman” constantly? Yes. Does it cause little arguments from time to time? Absolutely. But you’ve upgraded to a few “babe”s and “Love”s from time to time!😄

- Sukuna realized he was in love with you when he realized in a moment of intimacy that life is just so much easier with you. He’s always detested the thought of being “chained down” or “settling down” with someone, but with you, that thought doesn’t even cross his mind.

- Enough with that SAPPY SHIT—he fully does not understand your Five Nights at Freddy’s obsession. All he knows is it’s a horror video game, and whenever you hear someone bring it up you start freaking out.

- But he mayhaps have watched a full 2 hour video essay about the lore on YouTube one night to humor you🙏🏻

- He is the embodiment of one sided enemies to lovers. Like you’re fully down for his monstrous ass, but he’s over here beefing with you in his head 😭

- It’s only bc he knew it was all over the moment he heard your voice😞

- This man is lowkey a stalker, but you’re chill with it. He’s always got his eyes on you, and his heightened senses allow him to smell and feel you from miles away.

- If he’s not physically around, he has his “connections” as he calls them. They’re mainly local criminals and homeless people he pays to keep an eye on you (check out this post by @emphistic to hear more on this concept!!)

- Overall toxicity scale: 9 Sukuna fingers out of 20. If we’re being generous (˶˃⤙˂˶)

[obae-me]

Happy Birthday to my favorite boy who I love with my whole soul!

He's ostentatious, yes. It's hard to think otherwise with his title of Pride, his extravagant clothes, his dramatic entrances, and his peacock-like aura; always strutting about with his head held high and his metaphorical and oftentimes literal wings held out fluttering behind him.

So, it's easy to forget how much he loves simplicity. How he craves normalcy.

You'll fully admit you had misjudged him when his first birthday with you rolled around. Rumors forced visions of Diavolo putting a screeching halt over the whole kingdom, making everyone come out of their homes and business in droves just to celebrate. He'd have a limo or flying carriage take him to an exclusive five-star restaurant, drinking millennia old Demonus so expensive, one drop could have Mammon rolling in money for months. All the while decked up to the nines- the tens, even.

But, you quickly learned that those symbols of opulence were not what he wanted.

However, this year, you still found doubt clawing at your insides. Was this enough? His brothers assured you that what you all had planned was more than adequate, but it was still difficult to think so. You wanted to give him the world... Now you knew Diavolo's struggles firsthand when it came to the fallen angel.

After he had fallen asleep, you'd rolled over and disabled the timer on his phone. Mammon had already somehow snuck in and stolen Lucifer's alarm clock, eliminating his backup (which might already be sold at this point). He could sleep in now. Diavolo had already given Lucifer the day off, but old habits died hard, and everyone assumed he'd be up before he needed to.

The plan was set. He'd wake up to already-made coffee he could sip in bed before lumbering down to breakfast in his pajamas. There would be no arguing, the house would be clean, and everyone was ready to participate in a historical museum tour that was showcasing demon adaptations of human technologies. One of which was the first magical rendition of an assembly line.

Then you'd head out to have tea and snacks in the Royal Gardens. It would be just you, him, and Diavolo (with Barbatos serving of course) while the others set up a party at the House. The only ones attending would be family and close friends. It would be then that he opened presents, ate his favorite homemade dinner, and drank a little in the company of others while playing different games. Then while the night was fairly young, you'd offer to take him away.

As you rolled over in bed, listening to his light breathing as he slept soundly, you couldn't help but feel both nervous and excited for what you had planned for him. For months, you had tried scouting for the perfect gift. Was this...enough? It deviated from what you would normally plan to get him. It wasn't a cursed record or a set of cufflinks or a tie or anything like that. This year, you'd managed to find a music box. It played a lovely little tune that had the sort of melody that forced you to go quiet, chills running down your spine. But this wasn't just any music box. No. Under certain conditions, it would show the listener the memory that would make them the happiest in that moment. And the conditions were easy, one only needed to turn the winding key exactly six times.

Thinking about presenting it to him made you all giddy inside, knowing that he could use it whenever he felt particularly stressed...but also more anxiety allowed itself to flood your nerves. What if it had somehow broken in the spot you'd hidden the gift in?! Did you check it twice last night? Yes. But stranger things had happened in this house, broken things were actually quite common. So, you'd check on it again...just to be sure.

You eyed Lucifer as you slipped out of bed, keeping the mattress from bobbing too much as you tip-toed your way out of his room. Straight to the planetarium you went, assured by the youngest sibling that he'd keep it safe by shooing Lucifer out of the area if he got too close, which was so common already the eldest shouldn't get suspicious. Slipping your way into the room, you rushed over to the specific chair you had hid it behind. The ground was cold as you sat down on it, your legs crossed over each other as you sighed in relief as the intact music box was pulled into your lap.

"Might as well give it a test run," you muttered to no one but yourself as the key clicked six times. Music poured out into the room as you opened the lid. Mist seemed to shimmer a little in the air, a scene projected into the magic. Faint voices played into your mind, syllables almost twinkling in time with the notes.

"You worry too much." A familiar voice had you smile a bit sheepishly, an old memory of Lucifer shaking his head at you being the music box's memory of choice. "I've told you time and time again that you don't need to fret over impressing me, or whatever that silly word you said was." Ah, yes...you remembered this now...it was some time ago, worrying over some kind of RAD gala. Even now you weren't exactly sure what the specific thing you had panicked so grievously over was, but you had been so anxious over letting everyone down, especially the one who you held so close to your heart. In the image, Lucifer grabbed your face, looking so deeply into your eyes, it was as if he were reaching through the haze to assure you all over again. "And if I must, I will continue to tell you time and time and time again, even if my jaw must break from the strain. So take a breath, relax your shoulders, and remember that--"

"I love you," something echoed. You jumped, your arms pulling the music box close to your body instead of launching it in the air. You shut the lid as you glanced over your shoulder.

"L-Luci..."

The demon chuckled a bit as he tucked the fabric of his robe tighter against his body as he came up behind you, getting on his knees and resting his chin sleepily on your shoulder. "Should I be offended or pleased that you're sneaking off in the middle of the night to meet up with another me?"

You audibly sighed. So he saw... "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Answering a question with a question are we?" As he mused he wrapped his arms around your torso.

"Answering my question to your question with another question?" you quipped right back.

Even without fully seeing him you could feel his eyes roll. He gave you a squeeze and pressed his cheek right next to yours. "Am I to assume...perhaps rather selfishly...if all the secrecy is to imply that this interesting little thing is mine?"

A long pause settled between you. Was this...a bit of disappointment bubbling inside you? "It was supposed to be a surprise..."

If anyone knew the tragedy of derailed plans, it would be him. He hummed in apologetic understanding. "I can pretend like I didn't see it."

That actually had you chuckle a bit, shaking your head. You scooted on the floor to turn around to face him. Grabbing one of his hands, you placed the gift inside his palm. "Happy birthday, Lucifer. May this uplift you in those darker moments when I can't be there. May your birthday this year add to the pool of happy memories to choose from. May I be by your side for another birthday, and the birthday after that, and so many more to come." You leaned forward and kissed his cheek, chuckling at his slightly wild bed-hair that you were just now getting a good look at.

He went a bit silent, and you could've sworn as his eyes shut for a moment, a little bit of color came to his cheeks. He set your gift off to the side of himself as his arms wrapped around you once more, pulling you into a tight embrace. "And may I get to tell you time and time and time and time again...how much I love you."

[nhlclover]

𝖥𝖠𝖪𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖨𝖳 𝖲𝖤𝖳𝖧 𝖩𝖠𝖱𝖵𝖨𝖲

summary seth always visits the training room in hopes of getting your attention until one day it backfires. warnings flirting + teasing, simply fluff! word count 1.26k notes first seth piece!! i literally love this man so much so i hope y'all enjoy. i've also had this plot for ages and i finally decided to write it.

Seth entered the team’s training room for what felt like the hundredth time since the start of the season, and his eyes immediately searched for you. He carried the same easygoing grin that he always did, the one that made it seem like nothing could bother him. It was one that was starting to become all too familiar to the other Hurricanes players and staff — a grin that usually meant Seth was up to something.

He spotted you by the cabinets, organizing boxes of splints and unrolling new lengths of tape with a focused intensity that made him pause. He couldn't help but admire how dedicated you were, how you seemed to move effortlessly despite the chaos that usually surrounded you. The first time he saw you, he thought it was just a fleeting attraction—something he’d forget about by the next practice. But as the days passed, he kept noticing more about you: the way you bit your lip when you were deep in concentration, the soft hum of a tune you’d sing under your breath when you thought no one was listening, and the bright way you laughed, like you weren’t weighed down by anything.

The training room started to feel a little brighter when you were there, and he found himself coming up with excuses to swing by more often. A slight tweak of his ankle, a vague soreness in his leg—any reason to have you check him out, even if he didn’t need it.

Over time, his visits became less about any actual injuries and more about getting to see you and getting to talk to you. He tried to be subtle, but his teammates noticed, throwing teasing comments his way when you weren’t looking. They’d tease him, elbowing him in the ribs, telling him to “stop pretending to be hurt just because he liked the company.” Seth would laugh it off, but he knew they were right. Every time he walked through those doors, it was just another chance to see you.

“Hey, y/n,” Seth greeted, a playful tone dancing in his voice. “Got a minute? I think something's up with my shoulder today.”

You turned, eyes meeting his with an amused glimmer that always seemed to make his pulse quicken. “Your shoulder this time, huh?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know, Seth, you might just set a record for the most visits to the training room,” you said.

“What can I say?” he shrugged, still grinning. “I’m a delicate guy.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” you replied, but the corner of your mouth twitched like you were fighting back a smile. You pointed to the table. “Sit. Let’s take a look at this ‘injury’ of yours.”

Seth hopped up on the table, swinging his legs like a kid. “I don’t know,” he said, voice dripping with dramatic flair. “It’s feeling pretty tight today. Might be serious.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping over to him. “Shirt off.”

He didn’t hesitate, stripping off his shirt in one smooth motion, revealing the lean, athletic muscles that came from years of hard work on the ice. You tried to keep your expression neutral, tried not to react to the way his skin gleamed under the fluorescent lights. But Seth saw the flicker of your eyes, the quick dart to his chest before you composed yourself. It sent a thrill through him—he liked that he could get a reaction out of you, even if you tried to hide it.

You stepped closer, fingers already tingling with the familiar sensation of checking injuries, but this time, you felt something different. Maybe it was the way he was watching you, eyes locked on your face like you were the most interesting thing in the room. Or maybe it was the way his skin felt warm beneath your touch, the slow rise and fall of his breathing under your fingertips.

“Any pain here?” you asked, pressing lightly on his shoulder.

“Maybe a little,” he said, though the slight smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “I think you should keep checking, just to be sure.”

You sighed, a little exasperated, but you kept your focus. There was clearly nothing wrong with his shoulder, the lack of wincing or tension in his movements betraying his lie.

“Well,” you said, pulling your hands away from his shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “I think you’ll live. But just to be sure, maybe I should recommend you take a game off. Can’t be too careful, right?”

Seth’s eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. “Whoa, whoa, hold on—no need to get drastic here!”

“Why not? You keep showing up here all the time. It seems like you need the rest.”

He swallowed, trying to keep his cool, but you were so close now, and it was making his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. “Because,” he said, a bit too quickly, “I’m not actually hurt.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “You’re not?”

He let out a long, exasperated sigh, pulling his compression shirt back over his head. “No. I just… I just wanted an excuse to see you, okay? The shoulder’s fine. I’ve always been fine.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I know it’s stupid, but I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

You bit back a smile, trying to keep your composure. “You mean to tell me, all these times you’ve come to see me claiming your knee hurt, or you twinged your back… all those times you were faking it just to talk to me?”

Seth groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s pathetic. But you make it really hard to think straight, okay? And I’m not great with this stuff. I figured if I came in here enough, maybe you’d notice me.”

“I did notice you,” you said, and there was something softer in your tone now. “I noticed you every time you limped in here, pretending to be all tough. And believe me, I knew you were faking it.”

Seth’s head shot up, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You did?”

You nodded, biting back a smile. “Yep. Since, like, the second time you came in saying your elbow felt ‘off.’ You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“Well, that’s… that’s just great,” Seth muttered, feeling heat flood his face. “So I’ve been making a complete idiot of myself this whole time?”

“A little bit, yeah,” you admitted, stepping closer, “but it was kind of cute.” You reached out, gently tapping his shoulder. “You know, you could’ve just asked me out, Seth. It would’ve saved you a lot of time and fake injuries.”

“So… does that mean you might be interested?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Yes, Seth. It means I’m interested. Now, are you finally going to ask me out, or do you need to pretend to break a leg first?”

Seth’s grin spread across his face, genuine and full of relief. “Alright, alright. Would you… maybe want to go out with me sometime? For real, this time?”

You smiled back, nodding. “I’d like that.”

His heart soared, and he couldn't help the goofy grin that spread across his face. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirmed, stepping back and giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Now, go stretch that ‘injured’ shoulder of yours before I change my mind.”

He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve got it.” And as he left the training room, Seth couldn’t help but feel like he was walking on air.

[ghostgirl-22]

Somehow the conversation coming up that art doesnt know what he likes or knowing his own body because he always did what he was supposed to and no girl has felt the need or want to touch him because "hes the man and shouldnt need all that" "guys take care of the girl not the other way around" iykwim so patrick decides to help him figure it all out

How much pressure he likes, how wet he likes it, if he like gentle or nipping, gripping or biting.. where his erogenous zones are... kissing the sensitive parts of his inner thighs, what roles he likes to take, how he likes to be spoken to...?

U can ignore this part but Maybe pat asks "You never even tried doing it yourself? Like taken your time and see where your hands go?"

art says how would i be able to figure it out when i dont know where to start or what to do. Pat understands there probably a repression aspect to it aswell aand so they discover art together with pat guiding him through this new world/exploration

Omg! Your ask is literally ten times better than what I wrote but I love you for letting me try it dear nonnie <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Explicit

Basically this is just yearning and longing and porn with the thinnest of plots. So Artrick core.

——

It all comes out over holiday break. Art is staying with Patrick, it’s a few days after Christmas and Art’s parents are already busy with fundraisers and meetings. To them it doesn’t matter how Art gets back to Stanford, as long as he gets back so they could care less that Patrick keeps him for a few days.

They’re up too late. Patrick is lying on the floor with his laptop, looking up the scheduled matches for this season and who he’ll likely be playing. Art has taken over his bed, flipping channels on the television, going back and forth between American Pie on TBS and ESPN. Patrick is certain the sex conversation starts because they’re watching American Pie but what starts out as Art trying to get more information about Patrick’s sex life with Tashi leads to Art admitting he’s never really explored what he likes in bed.

“What do you even mean, explore?” Art asks, suddenly self conscious. He’s such a little perfectionist, checked off all the boxes, straight As, Ivy League college, division one tennis player, first girlfriend at the “right” age, lost it (many times) before high school finished. Patrick can tell it’s frustrating him to feel like he missed something. “Do you mean… touching myself?”

That’s really all it takes to divert Patrick’s attention. He shuts his laptop and sits up, gazing at Art. “Yeah jerking off is one part,” Patrick says, “But I meant what do you like?”

“I like having sex,” Art shrugs, “it’s simple. What else is there to explore?”

“Oh come on,” Patrick smirks. “It’s anything but simple. Do you even know your favorite position?”

Art rubs his arm, its so obvious he’s never even thought about it. “I don’t really… I mean um… I like… you know… the usual way.”

“Yeah that checks out,” Patrick says teasingly and Art’s gaze darkens.

”Why? How do you fuck Tashi?”

Patrick grins because he knew it was coming. “Nice try.”

Art huffs an irritated sigh. “Whatever man. Just because I’m not trying every position or whatever. I mean what difference does it make? She still…everybody still leaves happy.” Art picks up the remote and switches channels again like he’s done with the conversation but his skin is starting to flush.

He’s so easy. Patrick decides to push a little more. He shoves Art’s legs over and settles next to him on the full sized bed. Art just sits up, crossing his legs, he rests back on his palms.

Maybe it’s because Patrick helped him with his first sexual experience or maybe it’s because he has some kind of corruption kink but he loves whenever their relationship shifts back around to this show-me-how dynamic.

Art is so good at walking this line of self delusion that he’s this perfectly good straight boy… but when he needs something from Patrick. Usually experience. That’s when the lines start to blur. It’s a fucking mess but that’s exactly where Patrick lives.

“Look dude it’s not even about that.” Patrick continues. “It’s about… you remember when we were kids. You were so scared you’d suck at kissing so I—”

“Yeah I was a dumb kid,” Art interrupts quickly.

“Sure but you practiced…” Patrick points out. “And you’re a really good kisser now,” he says, smirking. Art looks away.

Patrick sighs. “I’m just saying if you play around… and learn what you really like. Sex can be really, really fucking good. Besides that’s half the fun of it anyway, right?”

Art chews his bottom lip and then he sighs. “It’s just… I mean I’m a guy… I thought I was supposed to look things up. I didn’t want to look like I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“What did you look up?”

“I don’t know, how to put on a condom? Only the first time. And like there was this article about unhooking different types of bra straps. Shut up,” he adds, shoving Patrick gently because he can’t help laughing at that.

“Okay how about this?” Patrick says, the ghost of a smile still on his lips. He leans back against the headboard, “Do you like it slow? Or do you prefer going fast?”

”Both,” Art says. “I like whatever she likes to do.”

“You don’t have a preference? What about when you’re touching yourself?”

Art plays with his tongue, rolls it back and forth in his mouth as he’s thinking. “Slower.” He says after a while. “Like… when I get the chance I like it…” He glances at Patrick and then looks determinedly back at the tv. “Slower.”

Patrick takes a breath and tries to slow himself down too but he can already feel his cock starting to fill up. “Okay what about touch? What makes you feel good? What gets you up?”

Art frowns. “I um… I don’t—- what about you? Where do you—” he sighs and then shakes his head. “Patrick, this is ridiculous.”

“No it isn’t, what’s ridiculous is you really don’t know what you like.”

Art is gripping the remote too tightly. “I know what I like,” he says.

“What?” Patrick gazes at him.

“Lots of stuff,” Art says.

“Like?”

Art rubs his thighs, Patrick looks down, following the anxious movement.

“I know something you like,” Patrick says after Art doesn’t say anything for a minute. “You want me to show you?”

Art starts playing with his tongue again, he takes a deep breath and nods and Patrick sits up so he’s close.

“You like it when someone kisses you here,” he brushes his knuckles along the junction between Art’s neck and collar bone and he shivers, pulling his shoulder up towards his ear. Patrick considers going in for the kiss but getting Art in a headspace is a delicate thing. It can lead everywhere and nowhere depending on how Patrick handles him.

And he knows Art… fuck… apparently he knows things about Art’s body that he’s not even aware of. This messy little “friendship” is gonna drive him crazy.

“Can I—“ Patrick lets his fingertips settle along the nape of Art’s neck where his curly hair is fine and baby soft. Art closes his eyes momentarily and takes a little breath.

”You like that too,” Patrick says.

“Yeah,” Art says softly.

Patrick licks his bottom lip to keep himself from licking at the flush on Art’s throat. “Do you like being on top? Or on the bottom?” Patrick asks, carefully.

Art opens his eyes and bites his lip again before taking a deep breath. “I think I prefer it when she… when she’s on top.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I don’t know… it’s hot. I mean…” he looks at Patrick. “I like looking at her tits when she….” He looks down shyly. Such a stupidly, pretty boy.

Patrick smirks. “So you're a boob guy.”

“So are you,” Art says, like he’s been caught doing something bad and doesn’t want to be the only one to get in trouble.

Patrick shrugs. “I love everything. I’m more of an ass man. But if you want to kill me show me a great pair of legs… I mean… fuck.”

Art rubs his thighs again. “I really like Tashi’s legs.”

“I bet you do,” Patrick smirks, leaning in. “What about you? You ever let her touch your chest?” He teases his fingers over Art’s t-shirt where his pecs are. Art gasps lightly as Patrick pinches just the right spot and the nipple starts to harden immediately. Patrick circles it lightly and Art shifts on the bed, pressing one hand into his lap and pushing Patrick away with the other. “Fuck no. That’s weird right?” Art asks, his voice a little pitchy.

God he fucking loves it. Patrick wants to push him down on the bed. But he sits on his hands to make himself behave. “What’s weird about it?” Patrick asks.

“I mean… I’m a guy. Why would she want to touch my… my nipples.” Art huffs a nervous little laugh.

“To make you feel good,” Patrick says softly.

Art licks his lips idly and lets out another breath.

“What about grip… do you like it soft?” Patrick asks.

Art nods. “Yeah.”

“This?” Patrick grips his wrist gently. “Or this?” He asks gripping a little tighter. “Or?” He grips tighter still, until Art squeezes his eyes shut.

“The… the middle… the second one.”

“Just right,” Patrick lets up on his grip. “What about here?” Patrick trails his fingertips…slowly… down Arts tummy.

“Stop,” Art breathes as Patrick’s fingers reach the elastic of his boxers.

Patrick shrugs, letting go of the elastic and smirking. He could do this all night. Touch and poke and prod and feel. He knows it’s turning Art on. He’s flushed so fucking beautifully, worrying his lips all red, squirming on the mattress.

“What about…” Patrick sits up on his knees and plays his fingers into Art's hair. Art looks up at him eagerly. Eyes fully dilated, lips parted, breathing shallow.

God.

Such a fucking pretty, pretty boy.

All Patrick wants now is whatever the fuck he can get away with. “Can I kiss you soft?” He asks as he presses his lips to Art’s mouth. Art nods and opens up, sliding his tongue into Patrick’s mouth right away, wanting it. Even though they’d only ever kissed a handful of times, ever since the first time their lips touched Patrick could tell that for Art kissing would be a Thing with a capital T. Patrick caresses the side of Art’s throat and feels it as he shivers. He listens to the way Art’s breathing. So aware of how Art’s body is moving. He’s opening up, he’s uncrossed his legs, knees pulled up, he’s grabbing at Patrick’s t-shirt trying to pull him closer as Patrick starts to deepen the kiss. Pressing his tongue more firmly into Art’s mouth. Art really likes that. He starts gasping, nibbling on Patrick’s lip before pushing his own tongue back in. When he starts moaning Patrick pulls back. His heart is railing against his ribcage and he’s losing himself. His hips are pressed in between Art’s legs feeling everything. Certain Art is feeling everything.

”Fuuckk,” Patrick breathes. He flops onto the bed resting his head on his pillow. If he were with Tashi right now he’d probably be halfway inside her already. Everything with her is impatient, horny and desperate. Everything with Art is pleading, anxious and pretending he doesn’t want it as badly as he fucking does.

Art is breathless, lips kiss swollen, he scoots back to get distance. “This is… so…”

“You like dirty talk?” Patrick interrupts.

Art smiles a bit and shrugs. “Kinda.”

“What’s kinda?” Patrick asks.

Art kicks his legs, lightly. “I like… I like when she tells me how she can’t wait for me to fuck her…”

Patrick sits up on his elbows. “Like I’m so wet for you baby, can’t wait to feel that big dick inside me?” Patrick says softly.

”Jesus Patrick,” Art says, covering his face.

“What?” Patrick says, smiling slightly at the reaction.

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you're wet,” Art whispers.

“So what do you want me to say?” Patrick says, he gets up again, abruptly crawling back into Art’s personal space. Art reacts at the sudden movement by opening his mouth… Patrick can see his little pink tongue, desperate for another kiss.

Art is gazing at him, pupils so large the rings of blue are barely visible. They’re so close, their lips are almost touching when Art licks his mouth. A horny little mess, if Patrick tried it now he thinks Art might let him fuck.

Patrick smiles and then leans against Art’s ear. “Can’t wait till you fill me up and fuck me good baby…” he murmurs softly.

“Yeah,” Art says quietly. “I can fuck you good.”

Patrick thinks he’s gonna go insane.

Art’s breathing starts to pick up again.

“Can you fill me up and stretch me… fuck me so hard I can feel you for days…” Patrick whispers.

“Mmhm,” Art hums eagerly, he starts lapping and sucking along Patrick’s throat, it’s so fucking yummy.

Patrick rubs his hand lightly along the inside of Arts thigh, trying to graze his knuckles along Arts cock. Art hitches another breath.

“That feel good?” Patrick asks gently.

“Yeah,” Art says breathlessly.

“You like it when she goes down on you before you fuck her?” Patrick asks.

“Yes, mm, yes,” Art says eagerly, shifting on the bed so Patrick can get between his legs. It’s so slutty the way he opens up so quickly, knowing what Patrick wants to do. Patrick presses a kiss along the inside of his upper thigh.

“Mm,” Art whines, and Patrick’s sure he’s just found another sensitive spot. He kisses it again, this time sucking at the skin there and Art moans properly. Patrick grins and starts palming him through his shorts. His own cock feels so fucking heavy. He’s thought about fucking Art since the first time he watched him nut all over himself but right now he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t get this.

“You gotta tell me how you want it to feel,” Patrick says looking up at him. “Can you talk me through it?”

“What if your… what if we get caught?” Art whispers.

“Everyone is asleep by now I promise,” Patrick says.

”Are you sure?”

“Fucking yes.” Patrick says impatiently, though if he’s honest he wouldn’t give a fuck at this point if they were all right outside his bedroom door. He can’t help himself, he tugs Art’s shorts down to see it.

He’s still barely got any hair there and he’s definitely still blonde everywhere. He’s so hard, his cock is so pretty and pink and full to the tip, pearls of cum dripping. Patrick laps it up and Art hisses.

“Talk to me,” Patrick whispers. “You like it wet?”

“Fuck,” Art breathes. “I mean yes. Yeah I want it wet. Oh god.”

Patrick fills his mouth.

“Oh— oh— fuck—-“ Art groans, he’s so loud. His hips stutter but Patrick holds him down, swirls his tongue around, doesn’t swallow anything, just drools all over it. Arts toeing the bed, trying to push up. “Mm fuck your tongue can you… can you do it faster…” Art moans. So Patrick moves his tongue faster.

He doesn’t ask, maybe because he’s too far gone but he teases his fingertips up along Art’s entrance and the sounds that Art makes in response, make Patrick shiver.

“Patrick,” Art gasps, his body is practically vibrating. Patrick presses his fingers in a little deeper and he moans like the boys do when Patrick’s on those websites in the middle of the night with the volume down low. But Art can’t be quiet… and Patrick doesn’t want him to stop.

“Patrick! Patrick I can’t—- I think I’m gonna—I’m gonna fucking cum— holy shit—“ Art wasn’t even done saying Patrick’s name when Patrick’s mouth started filling up. And boy does it fucking fill up. Patrick’s swallowing, and swallowing and swallowing. He’s so greedy he doesn’t want to waste a single drop of it. Art is whining breathlessly when Patrick finally lets it drop from his mouth, still so shiny and red and wet, twitching helplessly. Patrick just stares at it, dizzy for a minute before he drops onto the bed next to Art and reaches between his legs and starts touching himself.

Art sighs and pulls his shorts up properly before rolling over. He puts his hand where Patrick’s is and starts helping. “What about you? Art asks softly. “What do you like?”

A/N: Sorry this took hundreds of years my love. I wanted to do better but unfortunately got lots to catch up on so it shall be good enough <3

[munson-blurbs]

BUUUG oh my god i also watched wicked last weekend and i literally have not moved on 😭 i haven’t listened to ANYTHING else aside from the soundtrack and it got me thinking.............theater girlie reader performing i’m not that girl and absolutely nailing the song because she’s actually pining over eddie 🥲 (i also relate to the song because jonathan bailey isn’t in love with me lmao)

Did somebody say...Wicked and pining? I'm in.

Warnings: idiots in love, dual POV, light angst, mutual pining, happily ever after, I don't know what year this takes place in because Wicked opened in 2003 but there's nothing indicating modern!Eddie

WC: 3.5k

Divider credit to @strangergraphics

It wasn’t love at first sight for Eddie. It was love at first sound. 

He was cleaning up after Hellfire on a rainy Friday afternoon, determined to race home and check the sofa cushions for change so he could order a pizza. If all else failed, he could always dip into his primary income source, kept locked tight in his lunchbox. 

Hellfire Club continued to be the best part of his week, as it had been since he’d joined six years ago as a gawky freshman, but there was something comforting about the stillness after everyone else had left. Sometimes Eddie didn’t get that privilege—especially when he was tasked with giving Henderson a ride home. The kid wouldn’t shut up if his life depended on it. But today, he reveled in the peace while he placed the game pieces back in their box. 

He barely registered the small commotion in the adjoining auditorium as you took the stage and began your vocal warmups. You couldn’t take any chances of straining your voice; not when your years of hard work and dedication to the Drama Club finally paid off. 

You trilled to the top of your register before taking it back down, repeating it over and over until you felt ready to practice. Ready to become Elphaba Thropp. 

You were wholly unaware that Eddie Munson stood just on the other side of the wall, whistling a Black Sabbath song under his breath. Maybe that was good, considering your ridiculous crush on him. Like he’d ever notice you—a theatre nerd who never stepped out of line. You certainly weren’t one of the cheerleaders he constantly tried to impress. 

There was no mistaking the way he blushed and stammered around Chrissy Cunningham, playing with a few strands of his curls as he shamelessly flirted with her. You could deny that the sight of it all turned your stomach, but everyone and their mother would know it was a lie. 

A relationship—even a friendship—between you and Eddie would never manifest naturally. You didn’t have many classes together, and it wasn’t like he showed up to them anyway. Rumor had it that he and Chrissy only started talking because she bought weed from him, but the idea of meeting up with him in the woods, alone, overwhelmed you. And Eddie Munson definitely didn’t frequent the school plays. 

You thought about this now, the way you would never measure up to the girls he wanted to be with. Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply and let the emotions course through you. 

Frustration—towards yourself for harboring a crush on someone so unattainable. 

Envy—of Chrissy Cunningham, who happened to be playing Galinda, and the other cheerleaders who didn’t even have to try to get his attention. 

Dejection—because though Eddie had never outright rejected you, each day that you continued slipping under his radar twisted your heart more. 

You took it all and put it into the song. 

Hands touch, eyes meet Sudden silence, sudden heat Hearts leap in a giddy whirl He could be that boy But I’m not that girl 

Eddie was deciding whether to splurge for the meat-lovers pizza or stick with just pepperoni when he heard the voice of an angel coming from next door. 

Don’t dream too far Don’t lose sight of who you are Don’t remember that rush of joy He could be that boy I’m not that girl

His ears pricked up. Who was that? He’d been at this school for six years, and he thought he knew everybody. 

He rushed over to the adjacent wall, body moving faster than his brain. One sneakered foot caught on the leg of his Dungeon Master throne, sending him tumbling to the ground. In a moment of desperation, Eddie grabbed for the closest object in his vicinity—a mannequin, clad in a Captain Hook costume from last semester’s production of Peter Pan. It came tumbling down along with him, both hitting the ground with an unmistakable thump. 

The voice stopped singing mid-verse. 

“Shit,” Eddie grumbled, picking himself up and brushing the dust off of his ripped jeans. He waited for a moment, then another, in hopes that the song would resume. 

But there was only silence. Once cherished, but now a punishment for his own clumsiness. 

I should go over and apologize. He dismissed the idea almost as soon as it came. Except…what if it was just a coincidence? What if she didn’t hear any of that? I’ll look like a total moron. 

Instead, Eddie continued cleaning up, hoping the pink flush staining his cheeks would fade by the time he left school. 

Every so often we long to steal  To the land of—

A crash cut you off, your gaze flicking from the pretend audience to the stage door. Who was sticking around school on a Friday afternoon?

I should make sure they’re okay. 

You started towards the door, stopping in your tracks when a sinking thought washed over you. What if the person had made noise purposely so I’d stop singing? What if I check on them and they tell me that I suck? I’ll look pathetic. 

Fighting back a cringe at the notion of being humiliated, you scooped up your backpack and hurried out of the auditorium. 

Practice would have to wait until Monday. 

Eddie tried to hide his newfound fascination with the mystery girl who sang her way into his heart. Week after week, he insisted on cleaning up after Hellfire alone on the off chance he’d hear her rehearsing. 

But after that first time, there was nothing. Not a single note. Sure, other people used the auditorium to practice, but none of them were her. 

It was a rainy Friday when she finally returned. The weather—torrential storms all day—meant that Dustin would not be walking home. He begged Eddie to drive him, insisting that if his mom picked him up, she would thoroughly humiliate him. 

Having met Claudia Henderson on multiple occasions, Eddie could attest to that statement’s truthfulness. 

And while having Dustin around to clean up after Hellfire wasn’t a bad thing, he filled the room with incessant chatter and expected Eddie to respond. 

Eddie, however, was in a world of his own, losing himself in the somber lyrics and trying to tune out whatever the freshman was blathering on about. 

Every so often we long to steal  To the land of what-might-have-been 

“And then her dad took away her computer! All because she helped me change one measly grade!”

But that doesn't soften the ache we feel  When reality sets back in

“I mean, it’s completely unfair. Her siblings are batshit crazy and he can’t be bothered to care. But Suzie lies, probably for the first time in her life—”

“Henderson, can you just shut up for two seconds?!” Eddie hissed through clenched teeth, his nostrils flaring. His gaze softened slightly when he saw the shock and hurt on his friend’s face. “Sorry, man, I’m just…”

“Christ,” Dustin scoffed, regaining his composure. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Eddie cinched the dice drawstring bag closed, not making eye contact with Dustin. “Nothing. Just tired. Long week,” he added lamely. 

Blithe smile, lithe limb  She who's winsome, she wins him  Gold hair with a gentle curl  That's the girl he chose  And Heaven knows  I'm not that girl

Dustin noticed the way a smile tugged at the corners of Eddie’s scowl. A knowing grin spread across his face. 

“Why, Mr. Eddie. Look at you,” he said, donning a posh accent. “You’re lovesick.”

“W-What?” Eddie sputtered. 

Dustin rolled his eyes. “It’s a play on a quote from Wicked.” When the older boy kept his nose wrinkled in confusion, he continued with a huff. “Wicked. That’s the show the Drama Club is doing. That’s where the song is from.”

“Oh.” Eddie shook his head. “Yeah, it’s a, uh, a nice song.”

He fidgeted with his rings, spinning the skull around his finger until perspiration built up beneath the band. 

“Maybe we should see the show.” Dustin hoisted himself up onto the table, letting his legs dangle. “Y’know, actually watch your lady love on stage rather than secretly creep on her.”

“First of all,” Eddie pointed a finger at him, “she is not my ‘lady love.’ I don’t even know who she is. For all I know, it’s Jason Carver with a killer falsetto.”

The notion, while ridiculous, was the only way he could stifle the butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the term ‘lady love.’

“A possibility. Or,” Dustin countered, “she’s the love of your life, waiting just beyond this pesky wall for you to sweep her off of her talented feet.”

To his credit, Eddie considered the idea for a full second before shaking his head. Metalhead, music snob Eddie Munson watching the school musical? If anyone saw him there, he’d never live it down. 

Dustin, however, was relentless. The boy had a litany of tricks up his Weird Al shirtsleeve. 

“Well, I’m gonna go. My friend Robin is in the band. I wonder who else will be there?” He tapped his finger against his chin, feigning ponderance. “Oh, that’s right! Steve Harrington. You remember Steve, right? Great hair, great with the ladies…maybe he’ll even talk to your ‘friend.’”

Eddie’s blood boiled in his veins. Harrington showing up and being your knight in shining armor, parading around town with you on his arm—

“Fine. I’ll go.” Eddie grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “But you keep that jockstrap with a toupee away from her, got it?”

“Alright, alright. Jeez.” Dustin put his hands up in surrender. “No need to be so testy, Nessarose.”

Eddie wasn’t sure what that meant, but he had a feeling he was about to find out. 

Opening night. 

You didn’t allow yourself to peek out behind the stage curtain for fear of someone seeing you in your green makeup, but if the loud chatter emanating from the audience was any indication, it seemed to be a full house. 

Fred Benson came backstage a few moments later, wearing his stage manager headset and a huge grin. “We’re sold out!” He waited for the cheering from your fellow cast-mates to die down before announcing: “Places in five.”

Five minutes. Five measly minutes until you became Elphaba Thropp, the Wicked Witch of the West. 

And if that wasn’t enough to send nerves spiraling through you, the next sentence you overheard certainly did:

“Eddie Munson is here?!”

No. No, no, no.

“Are you serious? I thought he only listened to shit that makes your ears bleed.”

Whatever stage fright you’d already been battling paled in comparison to what you currently felt. Eddie Munson, the man who unknowingly served as your muse for unrequited love, was sitting in the audience.

When Chrissy Cunningham laughed behind you, it all became clear. He was here for her. He wanted to watch her flit across the stage, tossing her blonde hair and waving a magic wand. 

Well, at least you’d barely have to act when Galinda got the man Elphaba pined after.

Eddie sat straight up in his seat when the lights dimmed, clutching the bouquet of roses close to his lap. He didn’t want to risk putting them on the floor and stepping on them, so he did his best to hold them in place without constantly crinkling the cellophane.

They weren’t anything special–he’d gotten them from the refrigerated display case at Bradley’s Big Buy–but he hoped they were enough.

Chrissy came onstage first, wearing a poofy baby blue ball gown and a sparkling tiara. Eddie’s stomach flipped. Was Chrissy the girl he’d heard singing? No, she couldn’t have been. Her voice sounded nothing like the mystery girl. Chrissy’s voice was light and airy, like a princess. The other voice had a slight heaviness to it, like it held some pain.

So…not Chrissy. Good to know, but that still left him with more questions than answers.

He clapped when the audience clapped, pretending to focus on the plot while actually scouring the stage for clues. Maybe she was one of the chorus members; that would definitely make it more difficult to pick her out…

Resignedly, he sat back, summoning every ounce of music training he’d acquired over the years to pick out the sound of her voice among the crowd. 

Nothing. 

“This is bull—” he started to grumble to Dustin, but then his gaze fell upon someone…green. Even covered head-to-toe in pure stage makeup, her beauty shone through. 

Eddie just sat there, fully entranced. He didn’t want to allow himself to believe that this was the girl—because if she wasn’t the one he’d been obsessing over, then he was totally screwed. 

Please, he silently prayed, please let this be her. 

Please, you silently prayed, don’t let Eddie be here. 

Though you willed yourself to keep your eyes on that dark spot in the back of the auditorium, you couldn’t help but scan the audience for him. 

And there he was, sitting between Steve Harrington and one of the freshmen who followed him around the school like a little sheep. He had a dopey grin on his face and roses in his lap. 

Roses, you realized, that he’d present to Chrissy as he held her and congratulated her on an incredible performance—

Focus. You shedded your own skin at the stage door and took on Elphaba’s green hue, and you needed to act like her, not you. And her first song was upbeat and hopeful. Heartbrokenness would have to wait. 

She sang. After what seemed like endless dialogue between her and the teacher—Ms. Horrible? He couldn’t remember, nor did he particularly care—she sang. 

And from that first note, Eddie knew. 

It’s her. 

He almost didn’t want to believe it. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe it, because how could someone be so beautiful and talented? No, this must be someone who sounded similar, but the girl who sang that melancholy song would be someone else. Someone he didn’t feel wholly inadequate when he approached her. 

“Shh!” Someone hissed behind him. Only then did he realize that he was flexing his hand around the rose stems, the cellophane crackling under his tight grasp. 

Eddie muttered an apology, never taking his eyes off of the stage. God, she was breathtaking. He could practically hear her calling his name:

Eddie…Eddie…

“Eddie!” Steve’s annoyed voice snapped Eddie out of his stupor. “Move your foot, man!”

Eddie looked down to see that he was sitting at the edge of his seat, legs spread far enough to nudge Steve’s sneaker with his own. He quickly composed himself, hoping the dark auditorium masked his pink cheeks. 

“What the hell is his deal?” Steve whispered to Dustin. 

The younger boy shrugged. “Pretty sure he’s in love with the girl who plays the witch. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Eddie barely heard the exchange, too wrapped up in the way the notes seem to float from Elphaba’s lips, ethereal in nature. Normally when he listened to showtunes—which wasn’t very often, but his uncle was partial to his Annie Get Your Gun record—he would pass the time thinking about how he could rearrange the song to fit a more metal vibe. 

But for the first time in a long time, metal is the last thing on his mind. He wants to know more of Elphaba’s story, how she went from a shy college student to one of the most well-known villains in cinematic history. The rest of the world had gone quiet, like a background noise he easily ignored. 

The few scenes without Elphaba were torturous enough, but Eddie soon realized that there was something even worse than that. Someone, actually. 

Fiyero Tigelaar. 

He watched the man in a makeshift Shiz University clutching the stuffed lion toy, already sensing some sort of romantic tension between him and Elphaba. There was no denying the way Eddie’s body tensed when a green hand rested on the man’s cheek, so loving and tender.

As if sensing his friend’s inner turmoil, Dustin turned slightly and whispered, “don’t worry. Rumor has it that he’s more into Boq, if you catch my drift.”

That information allowed Eddie to relax a little, but only for a moment before Elphaba began singing again.

Hands touch, eyes meet Sudden silence, sudden heat

“That’s the song,” Dustin announced to Steve.

Steve nodded, offering a smirk. “So that must be the girl.”

Body wrought with emotion, you could only hope you could stave off the tears until you got offstage. It would be almost impossible to cry and remain on-key, especially given just how low you–not Elphaba–truly felt.

Blithe smile, lithe limb  She who's winsome, she wins him  Gold hair with a gentle curl  That's the girl he chose  And Heaven knows  I'm not that girl

You could get through this. It was no secret that you weren’t Eddie’s type. The girl he chose would be Chrissy Cunningham or someone like her, not the dorky theatre girl who only came out of her shell while performing.

Don't wish, don't start 

Wishing only wounds the heart  I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl  There's a girl I know  He loves her so  I'm not that girl

No, you were definitely not that girl. That girl was backstage, touching up her makeup and probably giggling about the flowers she’d receive from her metalhead crush.

The applause might have been thunderous; it might have been completely silent. You didn’t know. All you could think about was getting off the stage before you got another glimpse of Eddie and the stupid bouquet he was giving to Chrissy. 

The rest of the show was spectacular. Maybe you were a bit biased, considering you were the lead, but it couldn’t have gone any better if you’d tried. You’d even managed to stay in character, keeping your focus on your scene partners rather than the man in the audience who held your heart.

You couldn’t wash off the green makeup fast enough, an arduous process that your castmates thankfully expedited with a plethora of baby wipes and makeup remover. Despite everyone’s best efforts, your face and hands remained tinged with a green hue. You supposed you’d look like that for a few days after the show closed. 

“Excuse me?”

You turned around, still in costume, to see Eddie Munson now standing before you. The two of you were alone, the rest of the cast having cleaned up before you did.

“I think Chrissy’s with her friends,” you blurted out. 

“Oh. Cool.” Confusion creased his brows for a second before he continued. “You did, um, an amazing job tonight. Seriously, I was just…wow. I never knew being anti-establishment could sound so beautiful.”

You smiled, fiddling with a stray black thread on your dress. “Thanks. Elphaba really is a badass.”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s eyes flicked over your face. He noticed you looking at the flowers in his arms. “Oh, shit–these are for you. I hope you like them and you’re not, like, allergic or anything.” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “Maybe I should’ve gotten poppies instead, since, y’know…that was Elphaba’s thing.”

“I love them!” Too enthusiastic. Well, at least you didn’t say you loved him. “You didn’t have to get me anything, though. I’m just glad you liked the show.” Timidly, you admitted, “I’m kind of surprised to see you at the school musical, honestly.”

He scratched at the back of his neck. “Can I level with you for a sec?” When you nodded, he sighed. “I didn’t even know the school was doing a musical. I’m only here because I heard you practicing from the Hellfire room, and my friend told me about the show.”

You froze. Did you hear him correctly? Eddie was here because of you? Because he wanted to meet you?

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so green,” he added with a nervous laugh.

You quirked up an eyebrow. “You weren’t expecting the Wicked Witch of the West to be green? Please tell me you’ve seen The Wizard of Oz.”

“Of course I have! It’s a classic. I just didn’t know what Wicked was about.” He raked a hand through his curls. “Anyway, if you’re not busy tonight, I was hoping you might want to hang out? Maybe go to Benny’s and split some cheese fries?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Y-Yeah! I love fries. And cheese.” You cleared your throat, trying to ward off the embarrassment. “Let me just get out of this costume and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Cool. I’ll go tell my friends to fuck off or whatever.” Eddie smiled, shaking his hair out of his beautiful brown eyes. He started towards the door before half-turning to add,

“And, by the way, you look beautiful even when you’re green.”

--

[roosterforme]

Deployment Sucks but I Swallow | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was used to having your undivided attention when he was about to leave for a long deployment, because you'd been spoiling him that way for years. When you spent the day with your friends and got home late instead, he wanted to be annoyed, but everything you do is just too sweet. 

Warnings: Fluff, language, oral, Rooster loves getting blowjobs from his wife, 18+

Length: 3200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

"Seriously?" Bradley muttered as he sat on his living room couch all alone with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. This was his last night at home for the next four months, and you should have been here with him. You said you were having a late Sunday brunch with some friends and then coming home, but now it was dinnertime. He would be boarding an aircraft carrier tomorrow, Valentine's Day, at five in the morning, and he wouldn't be home until June. And yet you were still out with your friends while he stared at the enormous bouquet of roses on the coffee table that he got for you.

Every time he took a sip of his beer, the flash of his gold wedding band made him even more irritated. You'd never been like this in the past. Even before you and he got married, you would make a big fuss over him for several days leading up to his departure. He'd gotten used to that special treatment. He literally thrived when you used to run your fingers through his hair and tell him over and over again how much you were going to miss him the night before he left. And now that you weren't here in his lap, loving all over him, he was actually kind of pissed off about it.

He dug his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and tried his best not to be too snarky when he texted you again. 

Do you think you'll be home soon?

He waited twenty-one minutes for a response as the sky outside darkened even more and his patience waned further. "You're spoiled," he admitted out loud. But it was completely all your fault, because you'd overindulged him with your love for so long that now he was pouting when you finally wrote back.

On my way! I'll pick up dinner!

He groaned. If you were going to stop for food, it would take you even longer to get here, but he hadn't made anything, because he thought you'd have been home hours ago. So he texted you back the one thing that he knew would get his irritation across.

Fine.

But even that didn't seem to do anything, because you were all smiles when you floated through the front door thirty-four minutes later with a cardboard box in one hand and a bag from his favorite takeout place in the other. And you looked to damn gorgeous, he felt his resolve slipping. 

"Sorry I'm so late!" you said with a laugh. "I had such a long day."

Bradley tracked your movements from the couch with narrowed eyes. "Yeah. Me too. I thought you'd be home five hours ago."

"I completely lost track of time," you told him as your eyes settled on the roses. "Are those for me?"

"Happy Valentine's Day," he mumbled with a shrug, annoyed by the way his heart skipped a beat when you smiled at him like he was your only source of happiness in the world. But he couldn't bite his tongue as you set the box down and brought the food over to him with a smile. "What did you do after brunch? You were gone forever."

You nibbled on your lip as you ran your finger along one of the rose petals. "I was hanging out with Erika Fitch and Morgan Floyd for a little bit. We went to Erika and Reuben's house. I'm really sorry it took so long."

Bradley wanted to keep pouting and being cranky, especially since it sounded like Payback got to see more of you on Bradley's last day before deployment than he did. But when you bent to smell the flowers before dropping the takeout bag onto the table, you moaned his name softly before easing yourself down onto his lap. 

"Baby," he whispered, melting into your touch as soon as your fingers were in his hair. And then your lips found his, and he wasn't sure why he'd been so upset with you. You felt perfect in his arms, and you smelled sweet.

"I love you, Bradley," you whispered, and he buried his nose against your neck and inhaled. 

"You smell so fucking good," he moaned. "So sweet. Like candy. Delicious."

"Do I?" you asked coyly, raking your fingers back through his hair. "Or did you just miss me all day?"

"Baby, you know I'm spoiled," he groaned as you reached for his jeans zipper. "I wanted to spend the afternoon with you. I'm leaving tomorrow. For four months this time." 

"I know. I didn't give you enough attention today, did I?" you whispered as you eased the zipper down. "I'm really, really sorry. I wanted to, but I got sidetracked making you something sweet. I always want to be with you on your last day at home."

He kissed along your neck and breathed in the incredible scent again. "You made me something sweet? You smell like something sweet. Makes me want to taste you everywhere."

Bradley could hear the smile in your voice as he licked your collarbone while you eased your hand inside his underwear and wrapped your hand around his cock. "Your dinner will get cold if you don't eat it now," you whispered. 

"I don't care. I want my wife."

You moaned his name again, and that sweet scent was everywhere. "Then take me to bed, Lieutenant Bradshaw." Bradley's senses were filled with you as he carried you into the bedroom, and he swore he could smell chocolate as he undressed you. Your skin was extra sweet, and the scent clung to your hair.

"I don't know how you've made me this crazy for you," he whispered as he yanked his shirt off, "but I swear you smell like chocolate. Everywhere."

You giggled as you started to pull his jeans down, kneeling in front of him. "I know it's your favorite kind of snack."

"Incorrect," he grunted as you licked his cock before he stepped out of his pants and underwear. "My wife is my favorite kind of snack."

You took him between your parted lips and sucked on him like a lollipop before you whispered, "You're allowed dessert before dinner tonight."

Then Bradley had you underneath him in bed, your hands pinned to the pillow above your head as he licked your neck. "Next time I'm leaving, I want you with me all damn day. No brunch. No hanging with the girls."

You moaned his name as he slipped himself inside your wetness. "Anything you want. Anything."

He pressed his lips to yours as he filled you completely. "I want you."

--------------------------

Leaving the house with you at four in the morning on Monday was hard enough for Bradley, but the way you clung to him in the Bronco while he drove was making it so much worse. You had that box you brought home with you yesterday at your feet while he steered through the silent darkness. 

"I'm going to miss you so much," you whispered as the aircraft carrier came into view. "Four months is such a long time."

He was just happy you got home at dinnertime last night and let him love you nonstop. He hadn't stopped touching you long enough to reheat his dinner until almost midnight, and even then, you were nearby. Right now he was exhausted, but he'd have ample time to catch up on sleep when he didn't have his perfect wife with him.

"These four months are going to suck," he whispered as he parked near the docks, happy he'd given himself extra time to hold you before he had to board the carrier. "Happy Valentine's Day, Baby." When you unbuckled your seatbelt and crawled toward his lap, he groaned. "You still smell like chocolate."

"Do I?" you whispered with a smile as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

With his nose buried in your hair, he asked, "Is it a new perfume or something? Because I definitely don't hate it."

Your soft laughter filled the interior of the Bronco as you shook your head. "No, it's not perfume. It's actually chocolate. I told you I made you something sweet."

Bradley was nibbling on your ear, his cock twitching in his khakis as your thigh pressed against his length. "What did you make?" he mumbled mindlessly, but then you were pulling away from him. He was scrambling to keep you in his lap where he wanted you, but you were leaning down to grab the box from the floor. You set it on the passenger seat and smiled at him as you reached inside. 

"I made you candy bars," you said, handing him a thick piece of sweet smelling chocolate that was wrapped up in clear plastic. "Sixteen of them. One for each week that you'll be gone."

Bradley examined the candy in his hand and smiled as he looked up at you. "It says World's Best Husband on it."

"That's because you are," you told him, kissing his cheek. "Happy Valentine's Day. I'm going to miss you so much."

He was sure he was starting to blush in the predawn darkness as you handed him another one that said I'm So Sweet On You. "Oh," he whispered. "Erika and Morgan helped you make these yesterday, didn't they?"

"Yes," you told him as he tipped the box to look inside at the rest. They were all unique with white candies used for the lettering. He picked up one that said I Love Rooster and another that said Thinking About You. 

"I love these, Baby. Thank you," he muttered as he kissed your chin. "I'm sorry I got snippy with you last night."

You ran your fingers through his hair just the way he liked and said, "The girls and I didn't think it would take so long to make them. I wanted to be home with you all day yesterday. I promise."

He wrapped his left arm around you and pulled you snug against him as he pulled one more candy bar out of the box. When he read it, he smirked and held it up for you to read, too. His voice was deep as he asked, "Did you really make me a candy bar that says Deployment Sucks but I Swallow? In front of the girls?"

You bit your lip and wiggled yourself around on his lap, clearly knowing what that would do to him. "Reuben and Bob saw it too. I've never seen Bob blush so much in my life."

Bradley's cock throbbed against you, somehow even more turned on by the fact that his friends knew you were thinking about sucking him dry. "Fuck," he grunted, running his thumb over the letters that spelled out his dirty Valentine's Day message. He glanced around and found that while other cars had started to arrive, it was still pretty dark outside. So he looked you in the eye with one eyebrow raised and rasped, "Why don't you prove it?"

You took the bar from him and set it back in the box with the others. "Right here?" you asked, running your hands down his khaki shirt and over his pins as you leaned in closer to him. Your lips were skimming the scars on his neck as you added, "Right now?" But he could tell you were absolutely into the idea as your fingers found his belt while you kissed your way up to his ear. "I would love to."

You were moaning softly as you opened the fly of his uniform pants and carefully pulled his hardening length free. Bradley eased the seat back as you worked your familiar hand slowly up and down his length, making him jump in anticipation as he kissed your lips. Another car parked directly across from him, and you were illuminated by headlights as you moved the box from the seat back to the floor and ducked down. 

"Fuck," he grunted, tucking his hands behind his head as the headlights went out and your lips met his cock. "God, you're such a good girl." You were stretched across the seat on your belly, and he could already tell you were going to take your time, just like he wanted. There was a full thirty minutes left with you after all. The Bronco smelled like chocolate, and your mouth was warm around him as he whispered, "Nice and slow."

You moaned in agreement, nodding your head as you took him deeper and deeper. Bradley's head tipped back as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. You dragged your thumb down gently between his balls as he tapped the back of your throat, and you held him in place for a few beats. Now he was starting to doubt that he could last as long as he wanted to when you felt this incredible. He felt you gag softly as you started to ease back, and he could see stars at the edges of his vision. 

"Holy shit."

When you withdrew him, he could feel your saliva dripping down his length onto his pants. You licked at his tip and rubbed soft circles along his balls with your fingertips. You knew just how he wanted it, and he was like melted chocolate in your capable hands and mouth.

When you popped him free, your voice was soft and needy. "You better think of this when you eat that candy bar," you whispered, glancing up at him as his length rubbed your cheek.

Bradley let one hand drift down to the back of your neck. "I always think about you, but I'll be thinking about this on replay, Baby. Sweet chocolate and blowjobs from my wife."

You giggled as you took him between your lips again, and the soft vibrations had him thrusting up for more. His fingers were digging into your neck a little bit as he tried to get control of himself while you bobbed. Someone walked past the Bronco as he moaned, but he literally couldn't care less. The back of your head had never looked so appealing before as you got sloppier, every thrust met with wet sounds that only made him throb. 

He was gripping his own hair now as well while you pushed his hips back against the seat. "Baby," he whined as you treated him to the swirl of your tongue at the base of his cock. "I'm gonna miss you."

You nodded and moaned again, and Bradley reached out to grip the steering wheel in an effort to keep himself still while you worked your magic. With every tap of his cock against the back of your throat, his balls tightened until it was almost painful. "No, no, no," he whispered. "Not yet." 

You responded by slowing your pace incrementally, dragging your lips along his full length and sucking until he popped free. "But you taste so good," you whispered up at him with a grin. "I want you to come in my mouth."

He shook his head, mesmerized by you as you nuzzled your face against his cock and balls. "Jesus," he groaned, reaching for the back of your head and stroking your hair. "You wanna taste me?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed loudly in the small space as he shoved his cock between your lips. 

"You better swallow it all down," he grunted. "Just like you promised."

With your hands wrapped around his base, you squeezed him gently, sucking just right as you ran your tongue back and forth. He was grunting unintelligibly, hips jerking off the seat slightly as his head fell back against the headrest. 

"That's my girl. That's my girl," he whined, doing his best to keep his hand gentle against your head as you took him right up to his orgasm. Then you removed your hands, and as soon as you took him deep, your lips brushing his pubic hair and his balls, he came. "Baby!" he moaned, thrusting gently as you sputtered. He didn't want you to waste it. He wanted you to get every single drop. 

Bradley tipped his head forward and watched you swallow him down as you made sweet little sounds, the smell of the chocolate bars still in the air. You licked around his tip and cleaned him up as your gaze met his, and Bradley whispered, "I love you so much," as he caught his breath.

"I love you, too," you promised him as he pulled you back up to sit on his lap. Bradley tasted his cum in your mouth when he kissed you and cradled you against his body. "I'll miss you like crazy, and I'll be living for your calls. And I can't wait to spoil you when you get home again."

You kissed him all over his face as he whispered, "I love how much you've spoiled me. I'll be thinking about you nonstop, Baby."

A few minutes later, Bradley wiped away your tears and kissed your cheeks one last time before he boarded the aircraft carrier, and he watched you disappear into the distance with the dock as the sun rose behind you. He had one candy bar for every week he'd be away from you, and he couldn't wait to read the rest of them once he got to his bunk.

----------------------------

You were waiting very impatiently on the dock for your husband to join you on dry land once again. Your palms were sweating as you held onto two candy bars all wrapped up in plastic, hoping they wouldn't melt too badly. You texted him to let him know where you were standing, and now you just had to wait. And wait. You'd already gone four months without him, so this was just cruel. 

Every facetime call had been the highlight of your week while he was away. Bradley had been sure to tell you which candy bar he'd enjoyed that week, laughing about what you'd written on all of them. One time, he even ate the bar that said Hottest Guy in the Navy on it while he talked to you. 

You couldn't wait to take him home and spend days catching up with everything you and he had missed while you were apart. But first you needed to be in his arms. Then you heard him calling your name, and you almost dropped the candy bars as your husband made his way toward you. 

"Bradley!" you shouted, and then you were in his arms, and his lips were on yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, careful not to drop his treats. "I missed you!" 

"I love you, Baby," he rasped, kissing his way back to your ear. "How the hell do you still smell like chocolate?" he asked, and you erupted into giggles. 

"Because I made you more candy bars," you told him as you found his lips with yours again. 

He kissed you until you were breathless, and then he pressed his nose to your cheek as he said, "I'm so damn spoiled. What did you make for me this time?" You smiled and held up the two candy bars, and he read them out loud. "I still suck.... Want me to prove it?"

Bradley's brown eyes went wide, and his crooked grin left you giddy. "Well?" you asked. "Should we go home so you can find out for sure?"

"Hell yes," he whined, hauling you and his bag and the candy toward the parking lot. "My deployment sucked, but you suck so much better, Baby."

----------------------------

Happy Valentine's Day! It's not my favorite holiday personally, so I thought I'd make Bradley stress a little bit. Make sure you hug an aviator today! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 12

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

M!troll x f!reader

1.2k words

(Also, ask box is always open, I am literally always vibrating out of my skin to talk about this man)

--------

Sometime ago Zen’jan had stopped purring and seemed to be entirely asleep on your lap. You kept combing out his hair as long as you could, stopping only when you could not reach anymore because how he was laying back. It was a marvel just how much hair he was shedding, your lap was covered in green hairs and you had amassed quite a pile next to you as you cleaned out the comb.

With his head tilted on your lap one of his ears was sticking up, much longer and pointier than an elf’s, and you could not help tracing your finger along the edge. Midway up his ear there was a sizable tear and numerous nicks all up and down the sides. He sighed in his sleep while you played with his ear, maybe one day you would get up the courage to do things like that when he was awake too.

He seemed happy, a strange realization you had as you watched him doze. Sure he had smiled and joked with you a bit in the last month, but this was different, this was actual genuine happiness.

And it was weird to realize you were pretty happy too. For the first time in your life you were able to go where you wanted and do what you wanted. You had free reign to roam the city without being dogged by attendants chaperoning you around and deciding where you were allowed. You could go where you wanted, talk to who you wanted, just do what you wanted.

Maybe what was the most weird was without a doubt you knew Zen cared about you. You were not sure if you could call it love, from either of you, but he truly did everything he could to take care of you.

Your hand drifted from his ear back to his hair, he was shedding much less now as you ran your fingers through it. It was the dense, thick second layer to his hair seemed to be what was mainly shedding, then there were the longer strands that laid on top and gave his hair its length. You found yourself just absentmindedly playing with his hair while you got lost in your thoughts.

“Having fun?”

Startled, you looked down to see Zen looking back up at you smiling.

“You do not have to wait until I fall asleep to touch me you know” he continued.

“How long have you been awake?” you asked.

“Since you were touching my ear”.

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“No, it felt nice and I figured you would stop if you knew I was awake”

He was right. You were not sure why but you still felt embarrassed by it.

“Are you getting hungry? I did not mean to fall asleep again, so by now you must be starving” he asked.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve eaten since breakfast yesterday”.

“Would you prefer to stay home and rest, or would you like to come with me?” he asked.

You thought about it for a moment, part of you just wanted to wrap up in blankets and stay in the warmth and safety of your home, the other part of you did not like the idea of being left alone.

“I’ll come with you” you decided.

The two of you walked the streets of the market quarter of the city, Zen close enough to be brushing against you at all times. It seemed he was making up for lost time now that you were comfortable with him touching you.

He happily let you lead the way to any food stalls that caught your attention and translated for you so you could ask questions about any foods you were not familiar with. It was a nice change just to walk around with him eating street food and chatting, sure you were still exhausted, but this was a good distraction.

“You just let me know where you want to go and what you want to do” he said and gave your shoulder a squeeze.

You yelped, your shoulder stung and felt raw when he touched it.

“I am so sorry, did I grab you too hard?” he asked, panicked by your reaction.

“No, no it’s not that, just stings” you said.

“Let me see” carefully he tugged the collar of your shirt aside to check on your shoulder, “How did you not feel this before, look”

You looked at the top of your shoulder, your skin was bright red and angry and stung where his fingers accidentally grazed it. The redness continued down the top part of your arm.

“From the sun yesterday, since your shoulders and arms were not really covered” he said, “We can get something for it on the way home”.

The two of you continued your walk, Zen insisting on buying all sorts of sweets and snacks for later. He paused in front of a small shop before ducking inside with you in tow. Herbs and plants overflowed from shelves and hung from the ceiling and an older troll woman sat behind the counter.

She called out in the troll language to the two of you and you smiled politely, not knowing what she said.

Zen however immediately launched into an animated conversation. You smiled while you watched him, he was much livelier speaking his own language, gesturing with his hands and emoting. You loved listening to him speak even if you did not know what he was saying, he always seemed happier using his language versus his stiff common.

The two of you left the shop with a small jar of something and made your way home.

“May I?” he asked as the two of you sat together at home on the bed. He was holding the little jar from the shop and gesturing to your shoulder.

You tugged the edge of your collar aside and Zen quickly got to applying whatever was in the jar. It was cold against your skin, but did help take the sting away. Gently he continued, moving on to your other shoulder and both arms. It was nice a nice feeling as he sat behind you, the quiet sort of intimacy of just helping someone.

You leaned back against him, resting your back on his chest and he lowered his head down on top of yours. You reached up and offered him some of the pastry you had been eating, though instead he planted a few soft kisses along the inside of your wrist, his gentle show of affection made your heart flutter a bit.

“Are you happy, Zen?” you asked.

“I am” his lips were still against your wrist as he spoke, “Are you?”

You thought about it again. You were in a city where you did not speak the language, your husband followed the lord of shadows and you were still avoiding unpacking your feelings about that, and in the last month you really had only made one friend. But you were happy, more than anything you were free.

“I am” you said.

“Good” he nuzzled the top of your head, “Do I still need to sleep on the floor?” he teased.

You turned sideways a bit and buried your face into his chest, “No, I think I really liked sleeping together earlier” you could not look at him while you admitted it.

“I am happy that you feel comfortable with me now”

You could hear his soft purr as he spoke.

Part 13

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Captured, With Love

Pairing: Buddie x Reader

Word count: When I first started writing I always forgot to check why am I doing this again a head later

Notes: I completely forgot to mention, I will be posting every other day so as not to overwork myself

Day 2: Collaring

“This…This isn’t too much?” Buck looks over at Eddie as they drive home from the shops. His fingers flex nervously on the steering wheel as Eddie rolls his eyes for the 75th time since they’d even had the idea this morning on their day off. 

“Do I need to remind you of all the nicknames we have for her? Do I even need to remind you of last night?” 

Buck bites his lip, grinning a little “Yeah… last night was- new” 

“I’ll say” Eddie scoffs

He looks at the bag in his lap, they’d thought it was the greatest idea together, but Buck had started to put the tiniest bit of doubt in his mind. He knew you’d like it, definitely knew you’d go for it. But like… Would you?” 

“I’m sorry” Buck snickers as he pulls into his parking space 

“Huh?” Eddie opens the door, closing it lighter than he should have 

“I didn’t mean to freak you out” Buck comes around and closes the door for him, taking his hand and pulling him to the elevators.

The apartment is quiet when they walk in, Buck gets to work on setting up their little gift as Eddie goes up the stairs. You’re right where they’d left you, curled up in a little nest of blankets. He sits on the bed, running his hand along your side softly. 

“Hey Princess,” He says quietly “Wake up honey” He shakes your thigh slowly and you groan, reaching for his pillow and putting it over your head. 

“Too early” You whine and he smirks, patting your butt 

“It’s literally 11” 

“Is that in PM?” You wonder, your voice muffled by the pillow and Eddie pulls it off your head, smacking you with it 

“AM smartass. Now get up and go wash up, We have a present for you” 

You perk up a bit, opening your eyes to look at him, he smiles, staring into those beautiful lavender eyes that he loves so much 

“Come on cutie” He gets up, grabbing your arms and dragging your body to the end of the bed. Your body unfurls much like a cat as you let him do it, your head hanging down 

“But I was cozy!” You whine again and he drops your arms 

“You have one chance to get out of this bed before I make you” He’s warning you and you know that tone, the one that sends shivers down your spine, the one you’ve no choice but to listen to. You get out of bed, run your hands over your hair, and head into the bathroom where you clean your face and brush your teeth. You stare in the mirror, admiring the kisses on your neck, knowing both men have matching ones below the belt. You reach for one of Eddie’s T-shirts and pull it over your head before leaving the bathroom. You put your hair up quickly and walk down the stairs. 

“I still want to learn to slide down the banister,” you say as you come over to the couch where they are 

“And I still want to teach you” Buck clasps his hands, rubbing them together. 

“And I still say no” Eddie rolls his eyes “Buck you know what we see every day. I’m not cleaning both of my mate's brains off the fucking floor because you guys fell off the railing trying to slide down it. 

“But he gets to slide down a pole every day!” You protest and Buck shakes his head 

“She’s got you there”

“She doesn’t???” Eddie gestures “She literally doesn’t?? It’s a straight pole, up and down! Not a damn railing!” 

“….Can I come to slide down the one at work?” You look up at him through your lashes and he rolls his eyes 

“Fine. Now can we be serious?” 

“I don’t think we have a serious bone in our bodies,” Buck says as he sets a bag in front of you. 

“For you, from us, with love” He gives you two thumbs up and Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, yeah. Yeah fine that worked 

You grin at them and eagerly pull the tissue paper from the present, pulling out a pretty pink box, you look at them curiously before putting it in your lap. 

“What is-“

“Open it and find out” Buck rolls his eyes and you stick your tongue out at him before pulling the lid back. You giggle because there’s more pink tissue paper and pull that away too. Laid out neatly in the box is a pink collar with a heart in the middle and the cutest little bell hanging from it. Your jaw drops as you pull the matching golden chain leash out with it. There’s another little package in it and you open that immediately. It’s a heart-shaped tag with your name on it.

You sit there quietly for a moment, your mouth gaping. Eddie gets up and takes it from your hands, putting the tag on the collar and moving your hair aside to lock it around your neck. Your hand flies up to your neck and the little bell tinkles as you touch it. You let out a delicious little giggle as Buck takes your hands and pulls you up from the couch, bringing you over to the mirror. 

“Well?” He asks and you can hear the hesitancy in his voice as Eddie comes over and stands on the other side of you. He holds the key up for you to see and then puts it in his pocket. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Your neck is covered in the hickies from last night. Your eyes trail down your body, past your shirt, and to the millions of other marks they’d left on your body last night. 

The collar fits right in

“Do a little walk for us, just to the table and back” Buck crosses his arms over his chest and you do as he says, the bell and tag jingle with every step you take, the cool metal bounces against your skin and you can feel your cheeks flushing. You turn to walk back, putting your hands out and pointing your toes doing a little model walk and both men chuckle. 

“Oh aren’t you just a dream” 

You stand back in front of the mirror, putting your hand to the bell and looking at it, making little faces at yourself. 

“Look at me, pet”. Eddie says quietly, and you can feel the deep rumble in his chest as he says it. You turn to him, your cheeks pink as he hooks the leash onto it. 

“Isn’t she even prettier now?” He takes your shoulders and turns you toward Buck, who is clearly trying to ignore the growing tent in his pants

“Beautiful,” He says quietly and you blush deeply, looking away from him shyly. He reaches out and tugs on the leash and you stumble forward a little 

“Oh you sweet, sweet little kitten” Buck purrs, pulling you toward him and wrapping the chain around his hand.

“Do you like this?” He lets go of the leash and cups your face “Does the little omega like being owned like this?”

You practically melt in his arms and Eddie comes up behind you, pushing his cock against your backside. 

“Use your words pretty girl” His tone is gravelly in your ear as his hands come around your waist. 

“I-I do really like this” You nod slowly, leaning into Eddie as Buck starts to pull your shirt up over your head. “I like it so much, thank you” 

Buck walks you both backward and over to the pink fluffy chair they bought you. He sits down, turning you around and putting your hands on Eddie’s hips before sitting you on his leg. You know what he’s asking you to do and you respond eagerly, holding onto Eddie in front of you and grinding on his thick thigh. Eddie tilts your head up, wrapping the leash around his fist now and kissing you sweetly. He gets on his knees as he swallows your soft moans while you start to grind on Buck's thigh, your clit rubbing against it. Honestly, it takes him a little by surprise, feeling your soaked lips touching his jeans, he can tell by the way your hips stutter, all hot and sensitive. 

“No underwear huh?” 

Eddie’s eyes flash with a predatory hunger as they open. He stares at you, watching you blink hazily as you make out with him, your arms going around his neck. 

“You dirty little thing” Eddie chuckles when he pulls away a little, he nuzzles his nose against your neck, inhaling the soft scent of your arousal. You feel his lips against your skin, leaving burning kisses as he tugs on your leash, urging you to grind on Buck harder. 

“That’s our girl” Buck purrs, kissing the other side of your neck

“Come on baby girl let’s see that body move huh?” He leans back in the chair, putting his hands behind his head “Give Daddy a little show”

You hold onto Eddie, swirling your tongue with his and moaning. You exaggerate your movements, your curves flowing fluidly as you ride his thigh. He grabs your hair, pulling it back as Eddie kisses between the valley of your breasts, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking on it. You whimper as he kneads the other one, your hips speeding up 

“Wanna see you cum on my thigh like a little slut” Buck's eyes are locked on you, watching your ass jiggle. He grips your cheek with his other hand, spanking you and watching it ripple 

“Come on, show daddy how fucking desperate you are… you whine loud enough and I might spit on it later. You like it when I do that.. don’t you dirty girl”

“Jesus Christ Buck” Eddie snorts as he pulls away from your chest, your breasts covered in new hickies and he grins widely 

“You know you love it just as much as she does…. In fact” He stops your hips and you whimper, trying to go again but he gives your butt a harsh pat 

“Stop” He warns you as he pulls you flush against his chest. His hands cup your breasts, rolling them in his hands and Eddie nearly drools over the sight in front of him, there’s a wet spot on Buck’s pants and your pussy is dripping, he reaches out and sinks his fingers inside you, pumping in and out slowly

“You wanna give this leash a real test run?” Buck asks Eddie over your head, Eddie nods, not really trusting himself not to just jump you right there, and helps you up from Buck’s lap before taking the leash and pulling you toward the staircase. His rock-hard cock creating a large tent in his pants clearly shows how much he’s enjoying the way you wobble a little, your body flushed and needy. He can already feel you taking his knot over and over, dreaming about the way you take Buck in your mouth at the same time and choke on him.

“Yeah I think it could be fun” 

Buck grabs the Polaroid from the shelf next to the stairs and takes a picture of you being led up the stairs. 

“Yeah.. it just might” 

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Bad moon rising III

Summary: After a nasty divorce, you and your family are forced to live with your Grandpa in the lovely notorious Santa Carla, California. Filled with punks, geeks, surfer nazis and apparently all kinds of creatures of the night.

Word count: 3.7k

Poly!Lost boys x Emerson!reader

[1] [2] [3] [4]

A/n: This chapter will have a brief mention of SA, so this is your warning! But, don’t worry because we kick ass, literally. I also love this chapter, because it does go a bit more into the boys protectiveness and yours and theirs feelings for one another. So please in joy:)

You awoke groggily the next morning. 

Staying up late the night before at the boardwalk did not mix in well with your normal sleeping routine. Sun filtered through the blinds, the light casting a glow throughout your bedroom. You lightly stirred awake, tugging on the itchy sheets to keep last of your sleep from wandering away. 

“Y/n?” A voice called out from behind the closed door. “Sam and I’ve made breakfast, if your hungry.”

A muffled ‘ok’ surpassed your lips, the sound of your mother’s footsteps fading from your door. You reluctantly got out of bed, your pajama shirt that you may or may not have taken from Micheal’s closet rested loosely around your hips, the waist of your shirts twisted around your body from last nights sleep. 

Glancing around your room, you took in the multitude of box’s that littered the ground. Each having different labels from t-shirt and underwear all the way to cd’s and band posters. You knew that you’d have to empty the boxes at one point, and not fish through everything just to find a clean pair of socks.

You slowly walked out of your room, careful not to roll an ankle stepping over a box of shoes. The floor was cold against your bare feet, causing a soft chill to run through your body as you made your way down the stairs. 

Soft clinking of silverware and scraping plates met your ears as you rounded the stairs railing. Sam, Micheal and mom came into view, each of them sitting around the dining table, their breakfast either already eaten or halfway gone. 

Your gave them each a morning greeting, mom receiving a politer one than either of your brothers. Upon entering the kitchen, you made a quick plate, filled with plenty of eggs and bacon to keep your hunger subsided for a couple of hours. 

You returned back to the dining room, sitting next to Micheal. Mom and Sam sat on the opposite side, a single plate pulled with just bacon and a glass of orange juice sat at the head of the table. Definitely Grandpas. 

Though, where the old man currently was, is beyond you. 

As you start to eat your breakfast with your family, the gentle noise from outside passing as conversation for now. Mom let out an appealed hum, mouth stuffed with her own cooking, hand coming up to cover her mouth as she began to speak. 

“I forgot to tell you guys,” Voice slightly muffled by her hand. “I already found a job for myself.”

You slowed your eating, glancing between your brothers and mother. “Already?” You asked, lightly stabbing the yellow bit of egg. “We’ve been here less than a day, how have you got a job?”

Mom lowered her hand, smile still evident on her face. “Yes, well, last night at the boardwalk, I met a fine man who offered me a job at his store.”

“Fine man?” Micheal echoed, leaning back in his chair. “We don’t have to expect him around the house, will we?”

“No, no.” She waved off. “He is just a sweet man, who happened to notice someone in need of work.”

You shared a quick glance at Micheal, not entirely certain if the guy was just looking out for a stranger or more. Sam, on the other hand, was estatic for mom. Talking with a mouthful of his breakfast. “That’s great, mom. And, just think, when you get your first check, we can buy a TV.”

Micheal rolled his eyes at his brothers sudden accusation, you held back a smile. Remembering the conversation from yesterday about having no MTV to watch here at grandpas. 

“We can’t spend our money on entertainment, Sam. We have help pay for food and bills, we can’t just live off of grandpa forever.” She told him, taking a quick sip of her orange juice. “Besides, a video store will not pay that much on the first check.”

“Your working at a video store?” You asked, even though she had just told you the answer to your question. 

She gave a soft nod, standing up from the table with her plate and drink in hand. “Yes, unfortunately. It was the only thing that I could find in such short notice.” She then walked out of the dining room, leaving you with your brothers. 

Sam looked between you and Micheal, a sad look on his face. “My god,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair with defeat. “We’re going to be living in the streets by the end of the summer.”

You kicked him beneath the table, earning a pained noise to pass his lips. 

After breakfast, you returned back upstairs, gently closing your bedroom door behind you. Kicking an empty box out of your way as you sat down on your bed. Out of the corner of your eye, the sun bounced off of a square object, the light shining in your face. 

Turning in the direction, you eyed the cd from last night. The same one that the bleach blonde slipped into your back pocket. Reaching over, you picked up the object, twisting it around in your hand as you read the song listings for the cd. 

You pondered with the disk in hand, gently tapping it against your palm as you eyed your cd player. A pair of headphones hung on top of the device, eagerly waiting to be played. 

A tired sigh passing your lips as you opened the plastic case. You weren’t one to judge people’s music, often giving each genre a try before making a conclusion on it. But, stolen music was something that’d you’d happily judge. 

Placing the disk into the appropriate slot, you pressed play on the cd player. The music played through the headphones, the padded material fitting snug against your ears. You laid out on your bed, letting the music calm you, despite the punk metal flowing through your head.

You hadn’t seen the four boys over the past week at the boardwalk. Well, you did see them, anyone could see them. But, they were always driving away on their bikes or terrifying some tourists that got to close to them. 

You also didn’t know what to say to them, it wasn’t like you were friends with any of them. So, you just stuck to the side when they would get too close or change directions entirely, not wanting to be noticed by the leatherback motorcyclists.

But, you were noticed.

They knew when you were near, and they knew when you would hide away in a random shop when they’d passed by. To them it was hilarious, this girl that they’d barley known was doing everything in her power to keep herself hidden from them.

It wasn’t like it was something new to them, plenty of people dodged their presence when around them. Often, giving them a clear path to walk along the boardwalk. 

Though, whenever they would catch the sweet odor of your perfume, or the soft beating of your heart. Their feet would follow after you, trailing a good distance behind to not alarm you of their presence. 

And it was like they couldn’t stop when they would catch your smell in a crowd. 

It was something deep down that made them follow after you, something deep within their cold body’s that tethered them with you. They all felt it, that odd pull when one of them would spot you. But, none of them would speak out loud about it, not knowing how to ask what it was or why it was you. 

They just knew that the pull they’d fell would softly strengthen itself they closer they were to you. And a small part of them was curious of what it could mean. 

You watched as the sun lowered itself behind the crashing waves of the ocean, soft pinks and purples mixing in with the night sky before it turns black. It was always mesmerizing how the sun would move so quickly, yet slowly throughout the day. Beginning and ending just as it had started, beautifuly.

The railing from the boardwalk dug into your forearms as you leaned against it, a peaceful feeling scorching through your body at the sight before you. You knew you’d have to leave soon, you promised mom that you’d be back before dinner. 

Pulling yourself from the deck, you made your way over to the stairs leading down to the beach. Straps of your bag digging into your shoulders, as the weight of your items shifted. The only reason that you had brought the thing was because you’d wished to open your wallet a bit more tonight. 

A couple of happy’s for your family and yourself. As well as your house keys, wallet and Walkman. (For when you get bored.)

The sand inched itself into the crevices of your soles, no doubt something that mom would get on to you about if you track any kind of grime into the house. 

You could have just walked along the boardwalk, but you were growing a bit tired of the over packed people crowding around you. Too many sweaty bodies, and far too many noises. So, a nice walk along the beach would be the perfect way to end the night. 

A small fire came into view, the light casting a soft glow around a group of kids that surrounded it. You didn’t recognize them. Not that you’d recognize a whole lot of people with only being in town for a total of two weeks, but still. Loud music came from the group, shouts and laughter erupting the quiet atmosphere of the beach. 

You kept your focus away from the group, not wanting to disturb their own fun. Keeping a far away distance to not draw any attention towards yourself. Though that seems to be the opposite of tonight’s plans. 

A sharp whistle came from the group, dragging you out of your peace. 

You glanced over at the bonfire, stopping momentarily in the sand. They were a lot closer to you than the fire itself, maybe a few feet away than the couple of yards they were previously at. 

“Where you running off to on such a nice night, babe?” One of them asked, his voice slur like. The nickname didn’t roll off his tongue like Paul’s did the other night, no, instead it came off forced and disoriented. Almost like the name was just a way to try and sweet talk you. 

“Home.” You told him bluntly, taking slow but deliberant steps away from them. 

An airy chuckle came from a different guy, “What a coincidence, so are we.”

“Please don’t follow me.” You said over your shoulder, picking up your pace when you realized that they were starting to follow you. 

“Why not, you look like you could use the company.”

You didn’t give a response, instead kept your head forward, ignoring the calls that they continued to ring out. “C’mon, beautiful, this a way to treat a gentleman?”

An hand gripped your arm, yanking you back into the imbrace of a body. Two strong arms wrapped around your waist keeping you tightly in his hold. “I was fuckin’ talking to ya.” He told you, the smell of his intoxicated breath making you gag. 

He pulled you closer to the fire, dragging your body as you kicked and refused to allow him to take you to their spot. The other guys had brutish smiles on their faces, finding the situation as a pleasant form of entertainment for them.

One of the men snatched your bag off your shoulders, tossing it near the bonfire as a couple dug through your possessions. “Let me fucking go!” You shouted, arms and legs kicking out at anyone who got close. Your sudden movements caused the guys grip on you to slip, your feet finally planting firmly on the ground.

You twisted out of the guys hold, his arms still wrapped tightly around your waist. And, out of a flurry of emotions, you raised your dominant arm, reeling it back before your fist connected with his nose. Hard. 

A sharp crunch came from the man’s nose, and something warm and wet coated your knuckles as you pulled your fist back. The man let out a pained groan, his hands cupping his nose as blood dripped from between his fingers. 

“God! Fuckin’! Dammit!” He shouted, words coming out choppy and rushed as he struggled to breath properly through his nostrils. “Look what you fucking did, you bitch!”

You bit your toungue, fighting off a smug smile. Now is really not the time to play around with these guys, but, you knew it felt good to punch him. The tiny bag of dicks deserved it. “I can see.” You told him taking a small step back from the supposed leader of the group. “And it looks like a shitty nose job, if you ask me.”

“You broke my fucking nose!” He was beyond pissed, anyone with an eye could see that. He pointed a finger at you, blood dripping from the tip. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

God, this guy has a nasty mouth on him. He gets punched one time and it’s all fucking this and fucking that. His mama needs to teach himself some manners. 

You opened you mouth to tell him, ready to snatch your bag back and take off towards grandpas, when a reflective object caught your eye. Glancing over at the man’s hand you saw a knife clutched tightly in his right hand, his fist slightly shaking for how hard his grip was. 

Holy shit. 

He really is gonna kill you. 

Turning swiftly on your foot, you tried to manuver out of the outstretched hands grabbing at you. Sprinting on the sand, you felt as the tiny rocks slowed you down. Everytime you pushed off, your foot slowly sank down into the beach’s bay. 

Holy shit. 

A hand gripped your hair, tight. Your scalp burning as you get yanked back and thrown down on the ground. A yelp slipped past your lips when your upper body hits the floor, the air vacating your lungs. 

You tried to lift your body up, tried to run, tried to scream for help. But, there were suddenly hands everywhere, holding you down on your back, arms and legs pinned down as the man you’d punched leaned over you. 

“You know,” he started, twisting his knife in his palm. “It’d be a real shame for me to fuck up your face, because, well, you sure do got a pretty one.” He trailed his hand over your face, blood trailing behind as he did so. 

“Burn in fucking hell!” You shouted, putting as much strength as you could muster to try  and shove off the ones holding you down. 

A nasty sneer rested on his lips, “But such a shitty attitude, maybe I’ll cut off your tongue, you know, keep you quiet for once.”

The guy pinning down your left arm looked up at the man, slight concern bubbling across his features. “Hughie, yer not actually gonna cut ‘er, right-“

“Shut the hell up!” Hughie shouted at the man, knife pointed dangerously close to his face. “Just shut up.”

He turned back towards you, the knife dropping down to his side as glared down at you. “I ain’t gonna cut the bitch.”

You felt air enter your body, feeling slightly better about the situation now knowing he isn’t actually gonna use the knife. But, you still didn’t know what he was gonna do with you. 

“No, well just take her shitty bag, and I want just a little pay back for the nose.” Hughie brought his index and thumb close together. 

You watched with wide eyes as he walked around you, stopping at the top of your head, kicking just a little bit of sand in your face as he did so. “Fucking slut.” He muttered, before he raised his leg and the heel of his boot came down hard on your face. 

David sat on top of his motorcycle, the kickstand holding him steady as he puffed on his cigarette. The sun had set about an hour ago, the night fresh and just starting. They had plenty of time to scope out the crowd and find their next meal. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Paul and Marko sweet talking a group of ladies. They’d be nice for a snack, David thought. The sent of their blood flooding his senses, but, they’d need just a little more to actually fill them up. 

Dwayne leaned against the wooden railing, keeping a steady eye on those who wander too close to him and his brothers. Anyone that catches his eye would immediately steer themselves in a different direction. 

The smell of your blood drifted around the group, drawing Paul and Marko away from the group of girls and back over to their brothers. Your blood was a lot stronger than usual tonight, they noticed. It was more out in the open than what they’d usually smell around you. 

Paul was the first to notice you, a smile spreading across his face. “Hey, babe.” He drawled, watching as you came into view of the group. “Where you been lately?”

Though you didn’t stop to acknowledge them, in fact you seemed to walk faster to try and past them. It was slightly uncharacteristic of you, no snarky comment or a roll of your eyes. To say they missed it was an understatement. 

One by one, they each stepped away from their bikes, sauntering over to your fleeting form. The smell of your blood grew stronger and stronger the closer they got to you, the reminder that they need to eat picking at the back of their minds. 

Marko reached you first, gently pulling at your arm to catch your attention. “Hey, beautiful, where you been all week?” Though, you shrugged off his hand, barley giving him a glance as you tried to push through the crowd. 

He furrowed his brows, slightly confused at your demeanor. The first time you’ve met you’d snapped at him for trying to take a silly vinyl, and now you wouldn’t even spare him a second of your attention. 

Even when they’d see you out on the boardwalk, you’d always glance up at them, meeting at least one of their eyes before scurrying in a different direction. 

He quickly glanced at the others, silently asking them what to do. 

David brushed by his brother, understanding him without either having to open their mouths. He took long purposeful strides, the sounds of the others following right behind floated up to his ears. In no time, David was at your side. Gloved fingers wrapping around your forearm, as he spun you around to face them. 

A witty comment danced on the edge of his tongue, the sudden impulse to hear a snarky remark fall from your lips egged him on. Though, what he sa made his thoughts stand still. 

Bruises were found all around your face. A few rested along your jawline and cheekbones, but, the biggest of them all was the one on your right eye. The skin slightly puffed around the eyeball, making it hard to see clearly from that side. 

A dark red was slowly but steadily seeping from your bottom lip, the sticky liquid had had found its way to the collar of your shirt. The fabric had caused the blood to spread across the top. 

That explains the smell of blood. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over onto your cheeks. Your breaths became labored, short intakes and outtakes, eyes darting past the four men to your surroundings. 

David placed both hands on your face, the feeling of his gloved fingers against your skin oddly calmed you. You placed your own hands against his wrist gently trying to tug them away, though, his grip didn’t seem to loosen. 

“Let me go.” You said in a hoarse voice, the sound of it made an odd feeling stir in the pit of the boys stomachs. 

You hadn’t even realized that the rest of the boys had surrounded the two of you. Each eyeing the small marks that littered across your face with hidden emotion. 

Paul had reached forward grasping your hand in his, eyes trailing across the hills of your knuckles. A faint coat of blood was slowly drying itself up, blood that wasn’t your own. The blonde gently showed your hand to the others, discreetly eyeing each of them, a silent conversation threading itself through the air. 

A weak sniffle sounded from you, mindlessly dragging their thoughts back to the fact that you were here right infront of them. “Can I please just go home?” You asked, voice wavering with emotion. 

One by one they each gave a chorus of, ‘of course’ or just a simple nod. Paul released your hand, not before wiping a small trail of blood onto the pad of his finger. Keeping the scent with them as you left. 

David pulled his hands away from your face, the cold touch lingering on your warm skin. They watched as you pushed through the crowd, hand gently pressing against someone’s lower back as you pass by them. An eerie tick crawled its way to the back of David’s mind, something unsettling and terrifying. 

And it didn’t seem to mix well with the need to feed. 

David glanced over at Dwayne, giving him a quick nod. The brunette mirrored his brother, neither having to open they’re mouth before he distantly trailed after you. Getting lost in the crowd just as you had. 

Now just the three blondes were left in the boardwalk. Paul was softly bouncing on his feet unpatiently awaiting for David’s orders. Marko stood beside his brothers, fingers twitching at the sudden need to sink his fists and fangs into someone. 

The faint smell of the assholes blood filtered through their noses, a soft trail leading through the crowds. Without glancing back at the terror twins, David signaled towards the bikes. The three of them straddles their own Motorcycles, Dwayne’s would just have to stay at the boardwalk until they get back. 

They revved their engines, the loud noise drawing attention of nearby locals. Though, tonight, the people’s attention was the last thing that they were trying to capture. 

“Boys,” David spoke over the rumble of the bikes. “Let’s eat.”

A/a/n: Ok, so, if anyone of confused by the ending, the boys went out to basically kill the surfer nazis. And, Dwayne went to make sure you got home safe before joining his brothers. Also, I felt like the ending was a bit rushed, because I haven’t posted in like a week or something. But, let me tell you that this chapter has been 90% done the whole time. I was just lazy to finish the other 10%. But, let me know what you guys think ;)

@mrstargayen09

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A chance encounter

Words: 1,732 [also on AO3]

Rated: E

Tags: No UD AU; Future fic; Record label owner Eddie; Waiter Steve; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Blood and violence; Sex work (implied); Attempted non-con; Homophobic language; Steve Harrington whump; Eddie Munson whump; Protective Eddie Munson; Protective Steve Harrington

Notes: Happy birthday, @house-of-the-moving-image! I hope you have the most wonderful of days. I'm so happy to have found you as a friend and partner in crime. Hope you enjoy your extra long chunk of Upside Diner, even though it turned out quite gritty for a birthday fic. 😅💕🛼

Eddie grumbles under his breath as he locks the office door and steps out into the dark street. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loves his job. Hellfire Records is his baby. Making music, working with all sorts of different artists and bands, helping them make a name for themselves - it’s everything he ever wanted and never thought he could have growing up in the smalltown hell of Hawkins, Indiana. 

What he doesn’t love is the meetings and the paperwork and the phone calls, especially on days like this, when it all drags on until well into the night. 

The echoes of his boots bounce off the empty streets as he makes his way towards the little diner at the corner. Checking his wristwatch, he swears again. Fuck, it’s even later than he thought. What if Steve’s shift is already over? The thought makes his stomach clench with an unpleasant feeling that distinctly feels like disappointment. The realization makes him pause and furrow his brow. 

Maybe it’s a little bit pathetic, how quickly his visits to the diner have become the highlight of his day. Maybe it’s a little bit weird that he hasn’t had dinner anywhere else in literal weeks. Maybe it’s a little bit creepy, this obsession with a boy he knew fleetingly in highschool. An obsession that makes him come by every single day after work, without fail, just to chew on soggy fries and greasy burgers and watch said boy waiting tables, gliding around like an angel in chunky roller skates and stupidly short shorts. 

Maybe he has a problem. 

And maybe he doesn’t care. 

Because for all his initial reluctance and bite, Steve has actually started coming around. Has been accepting Eddie’s money and attempts at conversation with barely a complaint. Has even stopped asking why Eddie keeps ordering way too much food for one person alone, taking the leftovers behind his counter to munch on. Hell, last week when Eddie came in, he even looked up from the order he was taking and flashed him a wave and smile. Eddie rode that high all night and well into the next day. 

It’s the memory of that smile that makes him pick up his steps. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll catch Steve at the tail end of his shift and convince him to stay around for a little longer. 

The diner is empty, except for a lone person in uniform wiping down tables behind the neon-lit window pane. It isn’t Steve. Eddie spares one glance at the bored-looking girl and turns away with an annoyed groan. That’s it, he thinks, pulling his headphones from his pocket and slamming them on with a little more force than strictly necessary. Tonight officially sucks. Time to go home and fix himself some SpaghettiOs, turn on a late night show and fall asleep in front of the- 

For the rest of his life, he’ll thank fate for making him fumble with his discman. Because if he’d hit the play button a second earlier, he would never have heard the voices. But this way, he does, and this way, he halts his steps, peering into the narrow side alley with a wrinkled brow. The light of the streetlamps only reaches so far, and everything he can see are the dumpsters and old cardboard boxes at its entrance. Beyond them, everything is dark. 

“Dude, get your hands off me, I said no.” 

Steve.

Eddie is halfway around the dumpsters before he even knows it, heart beating in his ribcage like a jackhammer. The alley reeks of piss and rotting garbage. At its far end, almost hidden behind another dumpster, are two figures. Eddie can’t make out their faces, but he also doesn’t need to. The colorful uniform is unmistakable, even in the murky half-light, even though it’s paired with a pair of sneakers rather than roller skates. And besides, he’d know that ridiculously floofy hairdo anywhere. 

He doesn’t know the other man. Only knows that the guy's hands are grabbing Steve’s arms and shoulders hard enough to leave marks as he attempts to wrestle him to his knees. 

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” the man hisses just as Eddie rounds the dumpster. “I’ll make it quick.” 

“Are you deaf or stupid?” Steve sneers, trying to struggle out of his hold. “I said get your fucking hands off me.” 

The man slaps him across the face. Steve makes a pained noise and loses his balance, going down on his knees on the dirty ground. 

The man laughs, curt and mean.

“There you go,” he coos. One of his hands grabs a fist full of chestnut hair while the other reaches for the half-undone fly of his pants. “Now be a good little slut and-” 

The force of the impact sends the discman tumbling from Eddie’s pocket. It shatters on the ground somewhere, parts flying in all directions, but he doesn’t have eyes for it. Instead, he grabs the asshole by the lapels of his cheap suit and hauls him against the nearest wall. The back of the asshole’s head hits the bricks, and Eddie thinks he hears something crack. Good. 

“Eddie?” 

While the man sags against the wall, groaning and cradling his head, Eddie whirls on Steve. Steve, who's just swaying to his feet, eyes wide and shocked. His cheek is flushed and starting to bruise. 

“Shit,” Eddie swears. “Are you-” 

Pain explodes inside his skull, sudden and all consuming. He stumbles, trying to keep his footing and cracks his head on the hard metal edge of the dumpster in the process. He manages to blink the stars from his vision just in time to see the man's fist flying at him. The blow makes his ears ring and copper flood his mouth, and when he regains his senses, he's on the ground with two hands closing around his throat. 

“Thought you'd play the hero, huh?” The man's grin is a manic grimace. A glob of spit hits Eddie’s cheek. “Well, how'd that work out for you, you stupid little-” 

“Hey, shitface!” 

The man snarls and turns. Eddie doesn’t see what happens, just knows that something goes crunch and suddenly the hands pressing down on his windpipe are gone. The man's voice turns into a high-pitched wail of pain. 

Eddie rolls around, coughing and gasping for air, and props himself up on his elbows. The man has shrunk against the next wall, clutching at his face. Crimson blood is bubbling out from between his fingers, hitting the alley floor in a steady pattern of drips. 

“Fuck off,” Steve says and lowers the hand holding the roller skate. His voice is deadly calm, his face steely. “Remember to put away your dick first.” 

The guy stares at him. Steve raises the roller skate again, just a little. The asshole whimpers and scrambles upright, mumbling something to himself. Eddie thinks he catches something about fucking lunatic fags, but he can't be sure, what with the way his voice comes out all wet and garbled. And then he's gone, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.

Steve drops the roller skate. 

“Fuck,” be whispers, crouching down next to Eddie and brushing hesitant fingers over his split lip. Ten minutes ago, Eddie would’ve given anything to feel those hands on his face, but now he winces and recoils at the sting of pain. 

Steve retracts his hand, flopping down on the ground with a heavy sigh. The shorts ride up with the movement, exposing strong, muscled thighs. His knees are scraped from hitting the asphalt, little droplets of blood beading on the torn skin. 

“What’d you go and do that for?” Steve asks, scrubbing a hand down his face. All of the steel is gone from his voice. He sounds tired instead, infinitely tired. “I had it under control.” 

Eddie can’t help it, he barks a laugh. “Oh, did you, big boy? When was that, exactly? When he backhanded you? Or when he had you by the hair and was about to shove his cock down your-”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who got punched and choked half to death!” Steve snaps. 

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it again. The boy has a point, sort of. He doesn’t need a mirror to tell which one of them is looking the worse for wear right now, not with the white-hot pain still throbbing through his face with every heartbeat. 

“He didn’t choke me half to death,” he mutters lamely. Steve huffs a humorless laugh. 

“Thanks, anyway,” he then says. It comes out so quietly that Eddie nearly misses it, and when he looks up, Steve has averted his eyes. Eddie has an acute flashback to their first meeting at the diner, when Steve reluctantly accepted his tip money. “Could’ve gone a lot worse if you hadn’t shown up.” 

Eddie feels his mouth tug into a grin, even though his lip stings like an entire beehive. 

“Anytime, Stevie. Now c’mon, let’s get outtaaaaah, shit.” 

Trying to stand is a bad idea. The moment he’s upright, another firework of pain goes off behind his temples and the ground tilts out from under him. The only thing that saves him from going right down again is Steve jumping to his feet and looping one of Eddie’s arms around his shoulders. 

“Shit, he got you good,” he mutters. Eddie can only hum in agreement, too preoccupied with keeping the meager contents of his stomach down. “We should probably get you somewhere with a first aid kit at least.” 

“‘s okay,” Eddie slurs, inadvertently leaning closer into Steve’s warmth. He smells of shampoo and frying fat and blood. “I’ll be fine, I live nearby.” 

Steve’s eyes flit over his face, then off to the side, then back to his face again. He licks his lips and even in his dazed state, Eddie can clearly see how he wars with himself. Finally, he gulps and straightens his spine. 

“Okay,” he says, adjusting Eddie’s weight on his shoulders. “Let’s go then.” 

It’s weird, Eddie thinks as they start to hobble their way down the dark street. He must’ve fantasized a thousand times about taking Steve Harrington home, but never once did he think it’d play out like this. Then again, things in his life rarely go as he imagines, so he supposes he’s just gonna roll with it.

@steddhie @formosusiniquis @steddiehasmywholeheart @ellaelsinore @rozzieroos

Part 4

Tag list: @grtwdsmwhr @p0lybl4nkk @fairytalesreality @colidamae @dissociatingdemon

[daisymbin]

please don't go - jeon wonwoo

warnings: none

pairings: jeon wonwoo x afab reader

genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst

a/n: lower case intended! also writing my first fic at 1am so.....

check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list

"how was your date?'' wonwoo asked the second the door opened to your shared apartment. not that wonwoo would ever admit it but it is currently 1:03am and he may or may not have stayed up to wait for you to return despite having had a very exhausting day himself.

''why are you still up? isn't it past your bed time?'' you asked as you removed your heels. 'i couldn't sleep.' he simply said. ''so? how was it?''

'it was alright i guess. it wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst either.'' sighing, you walked over to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge before settling near the island of the kitchen.

truthfully, you didn't want to discuss the details with wonwoo. because aside from the fact that you're in love with your best friend, you've also been going on a few dates with mingyu now to try and get over your best friend. seungkwan had suggested setting you up with mingyu when you confided in him as he knew mingyu was interested in you. the only problem, however, is the fact that wonwoo seemed to not like mingyu. ever since the first time you went out with mingyu, wonwoo had no problem in letting you know how bad of an idea it was. saying mingyu was not your type, or that you both don't look good together; all these petty reasons that make no sense at all and you were slowly getting annoyed.

''are you hungry?'' you asked as you tried to change the topic.

''are you going to continue going out with him?''

''should we order some pizza?''

''mingyu isn't even your type, i don't know why him out of all people.''

''or should we order some pasta if you're not feeling pizza?''

''y/n.''

''or maybe i should cook us something? fried rice?''

''y/n can we please just talk about this?''

''do we still have any rice left?''

‘‘Y/N PLEASE!''

''what wonwoo?'' you said back harshly. it isn't until now that you realise how frustrated you are. trying to move on from him is so hard when he is around you all the time. it makes it even harder when he keeps being harsh about your dates and points out why each one of them isn't suitable for you, and the worst part of it all is that you know he's right, all of it. but what were you to do? there is no one who could ever come close to wonwoo.

''stop going out with mingyu! you don't even like him!''

''and how do you know that? maybe i do like him! maybe i like him a lot!'' you wanted to scream and shout to get all your feelings out..but this isn't your first fight with wonwoo about mingyu or any other guy you've been on dates with and you were just so worn out by now.

''that's bullshit and you know it. mingyu literally checks none of the boxes on your list of traits for your type.''

''i made that list 3 years ago! things change wonwoo! not all of us stay the same!''

its wonwoo who is silent now. his knuckles have turned paler than ever from gripping onto the edges of the island so hard.

''what the hell does that mean?''

''nothing.'' you said as you picked up your purse and head to your bedroom. you don't get to go far though, because wonwoo is holding onto your wrist now. so tightly yet so gentle at the same time. you wonder how that is possible. you hope he doesn't feel the pulse on your wrist picking up speed, and he hopes you don't feel his hand slightly trembling.

''please sweetheart...just..not him''

you sigh for the nth time tonight, ''wonwoo i can't just not date every guy you think isn't good enough or suitable enough for me. how am i ever going to find someone?''

''do you have to? do you have to find someone? i know you don't like mingyu enough so why?''

''really wonwoo? do i not like mingyu enough or do you just not like mingyu like how you don't like every single guy i've ever been on a date with? why? are you scared i'll call you less? replace you? have a new best friend? spend less time with you?'' your frustration was slowly growing again.

wonwoo feels his heart clench. can he tell you? will it ruin your 8 year long friendship? things are bound to become awkward, there's no way he can tell you how he truly feels.

but wonwoo decides, wonwoo finally decides that hiding his feelings from you for 5 long years is excruciating enough.

''none of that.'' he says so softly you can barely hear him.

''what?''

''i said, its none of that.''

''then what is it?''

wonwoo decides that if he is to get his heart broken by you, it might as well be tonight. he might as well just....try

wonwoo looks at you one last time for what feels like a good 10 minutes, even though it was only 10 seconds. he's contemplating, he's thinking and then.. he says fuck it.

his body moves faster than his brain. before he could properly process it, he finds his lips on yours. he feels you freeze for a split second, and then he feels you relaxing under his touch. he feels you kissing him back. he feels his heart beating so fast but also, he feels his heart slowly but surely unclench.

he pulls away softly and slowly. ''don't go out with mingyu anymore. don't go out with anyone else anymore. don't have dinner dates with anyone else. don't laugh at someone else's jokes that aren't funny just for the sake of being polite. i won't put you through all of that. i'll hold your hand. i'll have a pair of your converse in the car so your feet won't hurt from heels all day. i'll tell you jokes that are actually funny the way i know you like it. just let me love you and i'll show you all the ways i know how when it comes to you.''

you don't realise your tears slowly staining your cheeks, not until wonwoo's free hand comes up to wipe your tears with his thumb. its now your turn for your hand to reach out for wonwoo's wrist to pull him in for a kiss.

''please...please don't go''

''do you mean it?'' you asked softly

''i do. i love you, and i'll show you.''

and he does. now, he always holds your hand when you're walking on the street, crossing the road, lazing on the sofa, on the bed, on the table when you're waiting for your food to be served. he holds your hair back when you have to puke after having too much to drink. he removes your make up for you when you are too tired or too drunk. he never makes you wait, he always gives you the first bite of his food. he kisses you on the cheek, on the forehead, on your temples, the back of your hand, your fingers and on your lips, all while always telling you how much he loves you. he loves you in all the small and simple ways. but jeon wonwoo knows you love him too.

[nomoreusername]

How Girl's Work

Pairing:Platonic Ivy Trio x female reader

Summary:When Thomas asks about your pads, you try to explain the female body.

It didn't seem important to hide them. I’m a girl so I’ll sometimes need pads. They’re all guys and have no idea what they are. I keep them in a box under one of the medical beds.

Nobody cares to ask. It's a clear box with some light, mysterious, square things inside, with my name written on plain ducktape.

I honestly should have known better. Thomas loves asking questions. From the day he arrived he was curious about absolutely everything.

“What's the box for?”He asked, pointing at it.

“I’ve always wondered that too,”Minho admitted from the other bed.

“Can't say it didn't catch my eye at first,”Newt shrugged.

“I knew letting you guys be here on days off would end up being a mistake,”I sighed.

“We're helpful sometimes,”Thomas defended.

“Yes, but you you're also you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”Minho asked quickly.

“Whenever you go, chaos follows.”

“Hey, that's usually those two. You leave me out of it,”Newt said firmly.

“The point is, you're all nosy.”

“Okay, but what's in the special box?”Thomas repeated, making sure we didn't get off track from the original topic. How kind.

“Pads. They're just for girls.”

“Well, that’s sexist,”Minho responded with a completely serious voice, raising his eyebrow as if I had offended his ancestors and future children.

“No. It's literally only made for girls to use. At least once a month I have to use a few a day.”

“For what?”Thomas interrogated, sitting on the bed. Taking a spot on each side of him, the other two waited for me to answer.

I guess I’m doing this then.

“You know how I sometimes tell you all to just leave me alone for a few days?”

“Yes,”Newt nodded, leaning forward as if he was about to take notes.

“That’s because at least once a month I get a period.”

Minho nodded in an ‘ah, yes’ way as if he knew exactly what that was. He did not, but I’m gonna pretend not to notice. It's just easier.

“Like at the end of a sentence?”Thomas asked.

“No. My uterus lining sheds, which means I’ll bleed from down there.”

“What’s the point of that?”Newt asked, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was pulling knowledge about it from the back of his mind.

“It has to do with my eggs.”

“You have eggs?”Thomas asked, his face devoid of color as he was doing his best to figure it out. Minho rested his chin on his hands like a great philosopher that knew everything there was to know about women.

“Yes, but they're pretty much microscopic. They're important, because it's how the human population would continue.”

“So humans come from eggs?”

“Technically, yes. You guys know about pregnancy?”

“You mean that hellish sounding thing where you have nine months of growing a human?”Newt checked.

“Yes. Periods make sure I have enough to get pregnant and have one of those.”

“Why would anyone want one of those?”

“Because some people want to be parents. That and accidents happen.”

“So I might have been an accident?”Thomas asked in true horror.

“I couldn't have been an accident. Who wouldn't want me around?”Minho shrugged.

“I wouldn't be surprised if all of us were accidents,”Newt added.

“Well, it's a possibility. If your mom didn't plan to have a baby, then yeah. You were an accident.”

“How does the accident happen?”

“We’ll save that for another day,”I trailed off.

“I understand this perfectly,”Minho insisted.

“I have more questions though,”Thomas said, putting his hand up.

“I need you to clarify something.”

“What would it mean-”

“This is where you shanks are always hiding,”Alby remarked, walking in.

“Only sometimes,”I defended.

“Well, I need to borrow your helpers.”

“They're all yours,”I definitely allowed, looking over at them. With heavy sighs, they stood up to follow him. A night in the pit for more girl knowledge was not worth it.

“Make sure not to bleed out the next time you get your period,”Thomas whispered as he passed by me.

“Thanks Thomas. I’ll keep that in mind,”I nodded.

“Good luck,”He said, giving me a thumbs up as he followed everyone else out the door.

Yeah. They really do not get it.

[zeroseuniverse]

Princess Treatment

WC: 910 Pairing: Yunho X reader

“Can I have three powdered donuts, please?” She asked sweetly, the worker almost beaming at the sweet face ready to serve her quickly. 

“Right away miss.” He bowed, rushing to put together the order.

The quaint shop was seemingly empty, but she couldn’t help but notice how homey the decor was, warm tones with odd accents here and there to make the place more inviting, magazines and books littering some of the tables making it look lived in. She found herself quite comfortable in the shop, that was until she heard the bell chime behind her, the clerk parking up to see the new customer while she idly avoided turning to face the newcomer.

“Can I help you sir? "The older male asked sweetly.

“Just give me her bill please.” The deep voice rumbled behind her, his body coming up to almost pressing against her before he spoke again. “Can you not run off like that again?”

“Can you stop letting women flirt with you?” She snarked still not turning to face the man, instead setting her eyes on scanning the variety of candy for sale in the small shop.

“Here you go, miss.” The clerk smiled, bringing her the box of sweets and taking her partner’s card to ring up the bill.

“She wasn’t flirting!” Yunho protested, earning an eyeroll from his girlfriend who turned on her heel to face him, slipping a hand into his pocket to grab the spare cash before heading over to the tip jar.

“Here sir, have a wonderful day.” She yet again offered a sweet smile as she dropped the large wad of money into the tip jar and grabbed the card after the transaction was completed. She turned to her lover who was watching her with a shocked face before yet again turning on her hell, only this time heading to the car instead.

“You sure do have your hands full with that one.” The clerk commented as he came to stand near Yunho to hand him back the large sum of money.

“Keep it, she knows a safe place when she sees one. She wouldn’t have left that money if she didn’t see value in your shop.” Yunho sighed, making a mental note of the shop’s name so he knew where to check next time she ran off.

“A sweet face and fierce personality is a dangerous combination.” the clerk said, placing a wrinkled hand onto Yunho’s shoulder with a wry smile.

“Yea.. Wish me luck.” Yunho said with an airy chuckle at the end before walking to his car quickly to not leave his lover waiting. Heading to his sleek black car he climbed into the driver side, instead of starting the car though he looked over at her with exasperated eyes. 

She was eating a donut while scrolling through her phone, not bothering to clean up the sprinkled powdered sugar all over the seat of the car. 

“Can we talk about this please?” He sighed, watching her sip on her drink she had gotten on their date to wash down the donut. 

“She was flirting with you.”

“No she wasn’t.”

“She literally touched your hair.”

“I had food in it because SOMEONE threw a piece of bread at me.”

“She literally called me immature.”

“Well you’re acting like it right now love.”

“She bad mouthed your girlfriend and you’re agreeing with her?”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to say anything before you took off.”

“You smiled at the comment.”

“Sarcastically. I was about to ask for a new waiter, can you calm down and stop stress eating now. I know you’re feeling bad and that you think you’re overreacting, you’re not, your feelings are valid and how you handle those feelings is valid as well. I’m not upset, I just wanted you to hear what actually happened before you got too hurt by your own mind. I love you and everything about you, even how jealous you get.”

“So I dirtied your car up for nothing.” She said quietly looking up at him with watery eyes as guilt hit her. She had purposefully gone out of her way to break his no eating in his car rule, to try and upset him. Only for him to be the perfect boyfriend he always is.

“What do you mean?” He asked confusedly, tilting his head slightly, almost resembling a puppy.

“You don’t like people eating in your car, that’s why I got the messy donuts to get you as upset as I was. It’s petty and ridiculous. I'm sorry. I’ll clean it the second we get home.” She rushed out an explanation, hurrying to put away the trash.

“Now hold on.” He said almost sounding offended as he stared at her incredulously. She froze in her actions before looking at him wide eyed. “That rule never applied to you, and it never will. And when we get home, you’re going to sit your pretty butt right there and I will carry you inside, we will have a nice warm bath and I’ll do your skin care and your night routine with you, then we will snuggled up in our warm bed and handle the mess tomorrow first thing in the morning. Let me show you how much I love my princess.” He grinned, starting the car and quickly taking off before she had the chance to protest. 

He’d give her the princess treatment whether she wanted it or not.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part ten

authors note: none

song inspo: “with me” by destiny’s child

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive themes, angst

words: 5.8k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

You’ve never been a person who was big on holidays. 

Never saw the massive appeal. Easter was annoying cause everyone and they mama showed up to church just to show off their kids silk press and frilly dresses. Halloween was too dark. Valentine’s Day was always a toss up, depending on where you and Amir were at the moment. And 4th of July….fuck America. 

But Christmas…..in recent years, it’s starting to become a holiday you really enjoy. You owe a lot of that to Callie and her pure joy and excitement at the "most wonderful time of the year," for gifts, yes, but she loved celebrating “baby Jesus” birthday just as much.

And you couldn't deny that your town was most beautiful this time of year. Stunningly decorated, there wasn’t a non-resident building in town that wasn’t dressed down in HGTV worthy Christmas decor. Walking through town really felt like walking on the set of a Hallmark Christmas movie. 

And the activities were endless, especially for kids. 

Hence your current whereabouts, sitting on a bench with your mom as Callie partakes with a group of other kids in a workshop with some of ‘Santa’s elves’. Your eyes land on her more often than not, knowing you live in a safe area but never wanting to take any chances. You also notice how talkative she is at the table she’s seated at with another little girl. You smile. Seeing her interact with other kids always makes you happy. Once she gets past her initial shyness, you definitely see sprinkles of your extroverted personality in her. 

Checking your phone from a text from Joe, you can’t avoid the pout when met with empty notifications. 

Your mom, forever perceptive, notices this. “When does he come in?”

“Tomorrow,” you answer, unable to contain the smile on your face. You’re not sure who’s more excited about Joe’s return: you or Callie. Probably her, but you’re not that far behind. 

And not even just for sexual reasons. Yes, that’s definitely up there, but also expected. Because one thing about sex with Joe: it’s addictive. 

Having him like that for the first time in years awakened things in you that you forgot existed. No one could make you come like he could, and he knew it, hence his smug disposition during sex. One thing you were starting to realize was that Joe fucked like Roman, but he made love like Joe, and it was a deadly combination. 

You woke up alone the morning after the date, but you knew that was the case because this man literally flew out for one night just to take you out. And dick you down. 

But Joe being Joe, left you a note, like something out of one of those corny but sweet, romantic indie movies. It was thoughtful, but he’s always been thoughtful. 

That shouldn’t have surprised you. 

Just like you shouldn’t have been surprised to be woken up by Callie jumping on your bed, happy to see you and wanting to catch you up on her fun sleepover with Alexis. Alexis, who made sure that the first thing that she checked was the nightstand where that Plan B absolutely was nowhere to be found. 

Used and discarded in your waste bin. That’s where it was. 

The smirk she sent your way, you just knew she was gonna have a million and one questions. And clearly waiting for Callie to not be present to have that conversation was too much waiting, hence your phone buzzing with texts while you watched Wish with Callie.

Alexis: You dirty whore! I wanna know everything.

You: What’s there to tell? You don’t see the box anymore, do you?

Alexis: Bitch, you know what I mean. It was good, wasn’t it?

You: Girl…..good ain’t the word for it. 😩 I’m so tired and sore right now. He wore my ass out. Had me up all night.

You: I stopped counting after 4.

Alexis: 😖 You have no idea how much I love this for you.

Alexis: I’m also gonna take a wild guess that since you took the plan b, ya’ll didn’t use protection? He came in you, didn’t he? 👀

You: Every.single.time.

Alexis: Oh, he down baddddd. 

Alexis: Shit, do I need to get you some pregnancy tests?

You: NO. It was just last night…..I may have to get on BC because that can’t be a regular thing.

Alexis: Well….don’t you want more kids anyway? 

You: We’re not even dating, and you want me to get knocked up by this man?

Alexis: Bitch, you already have one child. Give her a sibling. 

Alexis: And what do you mean you’re not dating? That is your man. Just own it. 

It was a fun exchange, as are most things with Alexis, and it brought up a valid point. Joe was gonna have to either wrap it up or you were going to need to get back on the pill. 

And you knew better than to tell her that this man literally asked you if you were on the pill and said good when you told him you weren’t. You haven’t given yourself time to process that….later date and time. 

But Joe’s definitely been the subject of several dreams that left you waking up feeling aroused. Hence you counting down the days until his return, yes for Callie, but also because you desperately need your insides rearranged in a way only he can fulfill. 

And you also just miss him. 

Plain and simple.  

“I take it things are going well between ya’ll.” Your mom gives you that all-knowing look that all moms possess. You roll your eyes, and she playfully nudges your shoulder. “I’m happy for you, sweetie. You deserve to be happy. You and Callie.”

“We’re just….I don’t know what we’re doing exactly, but….it is going well.” It seems a bit silly to not acknowledge that you and Joe are dating again, but until he confirms as such, you lean on the side of caution. Granted, you know he’s not fucking anyone else, and you damn sure aren’t either. You speak to each other as often as you can, and there’s seldom a conversation that occurs without one or both of you hinting at the mindblowing sex you’ll have once he returns.

Nope….not dating at all.

“Well, he’s divorced now, isn’t he?” You’d eventually caught your mom up on that important update, knowing that she would never really approve if his wife was still in the picture. She wouldn’t outright say anything, but her demeanor would be telling enough. 

“Yes, but—”

“And he’s obviously very interested in being with you. I don’t need to ask if you’re interested in being with him, and Callie would do well in a healthy two-parent household.”

At that, you stop walking, arm in front of your mom. “Mama….you did amazing raising me all on your own. I owe you so much that it’d be impossible for me to ever repay you.” And it’s the truth. Definitely age and becoming a single mother yourself showed you just how much your mom sacrificed to keep a roof over your head and food in your belly. Your mom truly is your hero.

She smiles warmly, placing her gloved hand over yours. “I appreciate that, baby. But, if you don’t have to struggle, why should you? Joseph seems keen on being in Callie’s life and yours as well. What’s holding you back?”

You chuckle at her final question. “That’s more or less the same thing Alexis said.” Only gone for a couple days, you're starting to miss her too. She's been a great source of support the past couple weeks.

“I always did like that girl. A bit on the wild side, but I like her.” Oh, if your mom knew the extent of what that wildness looked like. Not just for Alexis but yourself. You’re certain your mom would have a heart attack if she knew you were a regular at the strip club in college. So much so that the owner knew you by name and often propositioned you for a job.

You’d be lying if you tried to say you didn’t consider it from time to time. 

“Maybe it’s how we got together,” you guess aloud, sitting back against the bench. “I think I still have some guilt about doing that to his wife.” 

It’s a take you’ve found yourself thinking about more and more over the past couple weeks. She may be out of the picture now, but she wasn’t when you first started messing with Joe. She was still his wife the first time you let him take you to bed, and that’s left a stain on your conscience you’re not entirely sure how to rid yourself of.

“I understand that entirely.” Hearing the change in your mom’s tone has you wondering if it’s truly wise to have this conversation with her. Is it still a sensitive subject? “But it seems they divorced before you even came back in the picture. Do you know why they finally went their separate ways?”

Shaking your head, you inform, “no, and a part of me wants to ask, but when he told me about it, I could see it was difficult for him. He had this….sadness in his eyes. And I don’t think it was because of the divorce itself but….something else.” 

A part of you wants to ask him again, feels like it’s information you should know. But, another part of you doesn’t want to pry too much. If it’s a sensitive subject, you don’t want to reopen any open wounds. 

“Well, if this continues to progress, it may be a discussion that needs to happen. Even if it just gives you a peace of mind.” You know she’s right. It’s just not something you’re ecstatic about having to do. “And you probably should also start thinking about what changes you may have to make for this to continue to work.”

Confused, you ask, “what do you mean?”

“He can’t keep flying in and out sporadically just to see his child. Or you. That’s not fair to any of ya’ll and not sustainable. You’re gonna have to relocate to wherever he lives.”

That….that is not something you’ve thought about until this very moment. You know Joe bends over backwards to make these visits work, but it hadn't occurred to you how long this dynamic could continue. 

Your mom must see the wheels in your head turning, adding, “and think about Callie, once she finds out that’s her daddy, she’s gonna wanna be around him as much as possible. It could be easier if you’re a bit closer.”

You don’t know how true or untrue your mom’s take is, but it’s also another conversation that will have to happen between you and Joe. He’s always on the road in general. Will moving really do anything to help with his visits? Relocating is something you’ve never ever thought about. This is your home. You grew up here. Callie was growing up here. You always saw her growing up here.

But, that was also a version where Joe wasn’t in her life. Now he is. So, of course, some things would change.

You just didn’t imagine that is what would change.

Even if your mom’s guidance now has you wondering what it would be like to have a house together, the three of you, Callie, with an actual backyard she can run around in. Not just limited to the space of your apartment. 

“I’m gonna go say hi to Gloria.” She taps your leg, gesturing to her friend’s store. “I’ll be right back.”

Nodding, you sit there, focusing on Callie instead of the nuggets of wisdom your mom just dropped on you. 

“Long time no see, stranger.”

And just like that, you’re regretting ever agreeing to leave your place. You should have just done something at the apartment with Callie. Invited your mom over. Baked some cookies and shit. 

Crossing your arms, you refuse to look his way. “Amir, it’s the happiest time of the year. Please leave me alone, and let me stay in my happy place.”

“You’re still upset with me?” He seems genuinely surprised at this, like you cussing him out in front of your daughter’s preschool wasn’t a good indicator of how upset you were. “Gotta let that shit go.”

“I don’t have to do anything but live, be black, and love my child.” Scooting to your edge of the bench, you tell him again. “Now go away.”

“We clearly need to talk this out—”

“No, we don’t need to do anything because there is no we.” You catch Callie’s eyes and remind yourself that you don’t need a part two of the last time. “I told you before. That’s done and over with. In all areas. You’ll never see my name pop up on your phone ever again.”

And that’s a promise.

“You’re so fuckin’ dramatic.” He’s growing annoyed. If only you cared. “Stop playing. What you doing tomorrow?”

“Sitting on my man’s face.”

Your answer seems to take him back. “He still around?” You don’t say anything. “You’re not stupid enough to be fucking him again, are you?”

“Amir, the only reason I was ever fucking you was because he wasn’t around, but he’s here now, and he’s not going anywhere. And without hurting your feelings before Christmas, I can promise you, dick is not something I will ever want or need from anyone else ever again.”

He scoffs, just looking at you with disgust. “Mariah was right. That nigga really does have you acting different.”

At that, your head snaps in his direction. “What did you just say?” Instantly, you see it. The regret in his face in realizing he’s fucked up. “Why were you talking to Mariah?” Your best friend couldn’t take your calls or texts, but she had time to fill your ex in on your private life? “When?”

He looks off, trying to hide the guilty expression you’ve already clocked. “We ran into each other at the store the other day.”

Lie.

Scoffing, you lean back against the bench. And you laugh. All you can do is laugh because never in a million years would you have put these pieces together, but it makes so much sense. 

“Yeah, you can get the fuck away from me. Now.” Seeing him about to open his mouth again, you decide to separate yourself. “Fine. I’ll leave.” 

And you do just that, moving to another available bench where you can still keep a close eye on Callie. It seems they’re nearing the end of the activity. One glance over to your previous seat, you see that Amir is gone. 

Good. 

Pulling out your phone, you send a simple text. 

You: If you were too busy riding Amir’s average dick to message me back, you could have just said so.

There’s barely any time for you to slide your phone back into your purse when it beeps.

Mariah: ??????

It actually takes a lot in you not to call and cuss her out right then and there. You’ve been trying to get in contact with her for weeks and the minute you send her that, she remembers how to reply?

“Mommy!”

You’re grateful for Callie’s distraction. Smile on your face, you see she’s approached you with not only the little girl at her table but a man also wearing a friendly expression.

“This is my new friend! Her name is Taylor!” Taylor appears to be the same or around the same age as Callie, box braids styled into two space buns, and she and Callie share giggles like they’ve been friends for years. In a weird sort of way, she reminds you a lot of Callie. 

“It seems the girls have connected,” the man speaks with a chuckle. He offers his hand. “I’m Darius. Taylor’s dad.”

Your phone goes off and you quickly glance, hoping it’s Joe.

Mariah: Can we talk?

Instantly, you reorient yourself to the conversation at hand. 

“It appears they have,” you agree, offering your name and asking, “are you from around here?”

“Naw. Just visiting some family. Me and my wife.” He looks around. “She should be somewhere around here. Her parents only live about an hour out, so they came to meet us.”

“Oh, cool.” Glancing at the girls, you recognize that plotting look on Callie’s face and wait patiently. Coyly, you share with Darius, “I believe a request is coming.”

“Oh, most definitely.” 

Sure enough, Callie is holding onto your leg, face peering up at you. “Mommy, can we see the fireworks tomorrow?” That’s certainly not what you expected to hear her ask. Callie has never been too big on fireworks. When she was younger, you’d have to lay in bed with her and soothe her to sleep because they made her nervous. Now she wants to go to an actual show? “Taylor is going too, right Taylor?”

Taylor nods happily. “And my mommy and grandma and grandpa.”

It's like the mentioning of additional parties triggers something for her, Callie offering suddenly, “Joe can come too!” 

That gives you a pause. Joe’s never gone out in public with the two of you, outside of the hospital, but that doesn’t necessarily count. It was an emergency, not happy hour.

There’s a bit of anxiety, even though you know your town is the perfect place to do so. You’d put your head on the chopping board that less than five people would actually approach him, asking for autographs and such. They might recognize him, but they’d never approach. 

It’ll also be the first time Callie can refer to him as her father instead of just Joe.

Finally deciding, you answer, “if you want to, baby.” 

You and Darius share a laugh as the girls rejoice together. He pulls out his phone and offers, “why don’t I give you my wife’s number? You two can communicate regarding the meetup and whatnot.”

“Yeah, of course.” Exchanging information, you program Bianca Johnson into your phone, sending her a text after Darius says he’s already messaged her regarding Taylors new best friend. 

It’s in programming the number though that you see an incoming call from Mariah. It’s an immediate decline. 

Mariah: Would you pick up the damn phone, please?

Navigating to her thread, you put her on mute. It’s almost Christmas. You refuse to allow her or anyone else to ruing this for you or Callie. 

________

Personally, you believe that there should be a mandatory set time for Children to wake up on Christmas. Preferably, any time after 10am. 12pm would be even better but highly unlikely given most kids go to bed extra early on Christmas Eve. Callie is no different. You and Joe get her down by 6:30pm which should have given you ample time to bake cookies, finish wrapping her gifts, the whole nine yards.

If only you two had a better sense of self-control, because the minute you were confident Callie was out for the night, he had you bent over the kitchen island. And that was….that was fine, because you’d been thinking about him being inside you from the moment he stepped foot in your place. Hell, from the moment he left. 

But then you somehow ended up riding him on the living room floor, his back propped up against the sofa as you bounced on his dick, surrounded by the toys you should have been wrapping for your daughter. And while you eventually did get the gifts wrapped and cookies baked, you weren’t even able to change from out of your towel and into pajamas when this man propped you on your bathroom counter, spread your legs, and ate you out like he’d been fasting for 40 days and 40 nights. 

It wasn’t entirely surprising. Joe’s always had a big appetite for sex, for you. Not that you were any better. And the fact of the matter was that having a kid meant you had to take advantage of the little free time you had, which you clearly did. 

But it was now coming to bite you in the ass, because it’s goddamn 9 o’clock in the morning, and Callie is jumping up and down on your bed when all you want to do is sleep for another ten hours.

“Mommy! Joe! Santa came!”

It’s nearly impossible to hold in your groan, so you suppress it by turning over and pressing yourself into Joe. Of course, he’s already got his arm around you, holding you against his body. He’s also still knocked out. 

Finding the strength, you shove on his chest. “Wake up.” It’s a bit incoherent, sleep still heavy in you and hindering your speech. Blinking your eyes open to allow the sun shining from the open curtains (courtesy of Callie) to motivate you to get your ass up, you punch him in his stomach. “Joe.”

He grunts, and you smile. “She’s up.” 

Pleased with the fulfillment of her alarm clock duties, she jumps off the bed, yelling, “come on!”

At that, you sit up from the mattress, scolding her, “Calista Manaia Anoa’i, you got one more time to jump off this bed, sis!” Looking back to see Joe still trying to wake up, you shove him again. “You better get your daughter before she gets punished on Christmas.”

This helps to stir him as he lays on his back, hand on his forehead. “Leave her alone.” It takes a minute for you to refocus. His voice in general is sexy as hell, but that morning voice is something dangerous. 

“Her ass is always trying to jump on and off shit.” Kicking off the blankets, you stretch and make your way into the bathroom to do your hygiene routine. Joe is not too far behind, coming in a few minutes later, slapping your ass as you’re bent over the sink spitting out your toothpaste. “Behave,” you warn. The two of you share the sink and counter space to get ready with you finishing first. 

Back in the room, you make up the bed and check your phone, sending out a few, quick Merry Christmas texts, Bianca included. Even though you’ve only texted since yesterday, she seems pretty chill and you have a couple of things in common, kids around the same age, both working as teachers. It’s just unfortunate that she lives further down South. You’re not sure how you’re gonna break that to Callie, but that’s a task for another day. 

Today is an exciting, happy occasion, and you’re not gonna let anything or anyone ruin it. 

Joe is suddenly behind you, arms around your waist and mouth on the side of your neck. 

“Merry Christmas, baby” he murmurs, pressing kisses against your skin. 

Chewing down on your bottom lip, you turn around and lean up to kiss him. “Merry Christmas.” Hands on his chest, you ask, “You ready?”

He looks at you, clearly thinking about what you’re asking. This is what he’d been building up to, but you’re certain there’s some level of anxiety. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he finally answers. You’re not certain if he’s speaking more to you or himself. 

“She’s gonna be happy, Joe. I promise.” Stealing one more kiss, you take his hand. “Come on. She’s gonna start getting impa—”

“Come on!” She shouts from the living room, and you give him a look. 

“That’s your child.” His chuckle follows you out of the bedroom and into the living room where Callie is literally bouncing on the heels of her feet near the Christmas tree. You’re not entirely certain, but you could have sworn there weren’t as many gifts there when you left for your shower and eventually bed. 

“It’s Christmas!” Running over to Joe who swoops her up and kisses her cheek as she tells him Merry Christmas, you patiently wait for your turn, giving her a kiss and hug too before she’s pulling the both of you over to the tree. 

Using your phone, you snap photos and record intermittent videos of her opening her gifts. And in doing so, you’re certain Joe added a couple more when you were in the shower. He’s definitely that dad who doesn’t see an issue with spoiling the shit out of his kid. And as long as Callie remains kind and respectful, you won’t stop him. He’ll definitely hear about it tonight, but you won’t actually interfere.

Alexa playing Christmas songs in the background helps to set the tone as well. Mostly Mariah Carey because it’s literal law that one must listen to All I Want for Christmas is You on Christmas day. Really, starting the day after Halloween. 

You don’t make the rules. 

Literal fucking law. 

Callie suddenly pulls a gift, small and rectangular shaped, that you definitely don’t remember wrapping. “Mommy, it’s for you!” Thinking it’s something she made for you, you put your phone down and take it only to recognize that the writing is clearly too nice to be written by a child, not to mention that it has your name instead of mommy. 

Your eyes land on him. “Joe….what is this?”

“Open it,” he encourages, waiting patiently.

Still in somewhat belief he would actually get you something, you rip off the packaging and gasp. You almost drop it reading the brand name written in gold calligraphy. “Chanel? Thee Chanel?”

“Who’s Chanel, mommy?” 

“It’s a brand, baby,” you answer, distracted because you’re still stuck on the fact that you’re actually holding in your hand something that had to cost at least a thousand dollars. If not a couple thousand. 

“Open it, mommy,” Callie presses. This girl is both nosy but also loves to see people receive gifts. 

And so, you open it, gasping louder this time.

“Joe…..” It’s absolutely stunning, the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever seen. Gold. An intricately decorated ‘C’ pendant with a diamond in the middle. C for Chanel for most people. C for your heartbeat for you. “It’s beautiful….” 

He moves over to you, helping to remove it from the box. As your hair is already up in a messy bun, he has no difficulty placing it around you, as Callie exclaims happily, “it’s a C!.”

“C for Callie,” you answer her, cupping her cheek before turning to Joe. “Thank you…..” Pulling him in for a hug, there’s something so emotional about this moment, something pure. You’ve never felt so cared for by anyone.

Never felt so loved. 

He kisses your temple. “You never have to thank me for anything I do for you.” 

Hating the fact that tears are brimming your eyes, you punch his shoulder, needing to not be so emotional. “You should have told me you got me something. Now I feel bad because I didn’t get you anything.” 

Thumb caressing your cheek, he answers, softly. “You already did.” Confused, his eyes discreetly focus on Callie who’s back trying to figure out which toy she wants to play with first.

That….that does something to you. 

You look at him, ready to say something, when you see it. See it in his eyes. A deep level of appreciation that indicates a story, a reason as to why this means the world to him. There’s something there. Something more he’s not saying, but you know it’s neither the time nor the place. 

Now….now is the time for something else. 

“Baby.” It’s surprisingly easy to catch Callie’s attention, so you pat the space in between the two of you. “Come here. We need to talk to you about something.” 

Wordlessly, she plops right between ya’ll with that naturally inquisitive expression. 

“Callie….” Joe feeling a bit nervous made sense to you, and you expected as such. But you never thought about your own trepidation in this moment. It’s difficult, but you do your best to push it away. “Do you….do you remember when you asked me about your dad?” She nods. “And why…..why you didn’t have one?”

She nods again, Joe this time grabbing her attention. “Callie, do you know why I came back in your mom’s life?”

She thinks about his question, answering tentatively, “because you missed mommy?”

He chuckles. “That’s true. I did miss her. A lot.” You try not to think too much about his words, to not make this moment about you or you and him. It’s about Callie. “But, I mostly came back because I wanted to meet you.”

Her eyes light up. “Really?”

He nods, “Calista, you are the sweetest, kindest, and smartest kid that I have ever met. And I love every second that I get to spend with you.” Joe brings his hand to gently palm her face. “And I especially love being your dad.” 

You’re not quite sure if you’re breathing or even fully present in the few seconds it takes for Callie to process what he’s just said. But then, you see it, a smile that could light up times square. “Really?” She snaps her head in your direction, looking for confirmation. “Mommy, is Joe really my daddy?”

Sniffling, you wipe at your eyes. Damn feelings. You’ve been way too emotional lately. “He sure is, baby.” 

Squealing, she literally throws herself against him, hugging him tightly. “It’s the best Christmas ever!”

“I love you, Callie.” Joe shuts his eyes, taking in this moment, kissing the top of her head. “And I’ll always be here for you.”

“I love you too, daddy!” If you could capture this moment, capture those words leaving her mouth, forever keep them as a keepsake to be preserved for all time, you would. Because it’s everything you’ve ever wanted for her. To know she’s wanted and loved by both her parents. And finally, that moment is no longer a hope but a reality. 

“Wait!” She suddenly pulls away, grabbing the picture she’d drawn for Joe and given to him as a Christmas gift. “I’ll be back!”

He looks over at you. “What is she—” 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you answer with a murmur, still partially overcome with emotion. 

However, Callie is back in a matter of minutes with that beautiful smile on her face. Flipping it over, she exclaims, “I fixed it.” 

Your eyes immediately land on what she “fixed,” and your heart swells. She’s crossed out Joe’s name with a black marker and instead written above it “daddy.”

“I love it.” His voice is thick with emotion, and you move closer to him, laying against his side. Wanting to be with him in this precious moment. 

Callie wasn’t lying.

This truly is the best Christmas. 

________

“Come on! We’re gonna be late!” 

Callie’s animated voice somehow travels to you and Joe despite all of the hustle and bustle occurring around you, the sea of bodies waiting for the fireworks show to begin. There’s not much distance between the two of you and her, enough for Joe to grab her if need be. 

You walk close with him, you hands locked around his bicep.

His discomfort is obvious, so you assure, “relax. You’re not the tribal chief around here.” He glances at you. “They may notice you, but they’ll leave you alone. Especially since it’s Christmas.”

This seems to relieve him as she explains, “tonight is about her. I just don’t want to take away from that.”

“And you won’t, I promise. Just….just be present in this moment.” He takes your hand in his, giving a gentle squeeze. Continuing to walk with him, your eyes land on Taylor, Darius, and a woman who, even from a distance, looks vaguely familiar. 

“Taylor!” 

Callie rushes over to her new best friend, and the two embrace. You almost wish you had your phone out to take a picture. The woman wears a friendly smile, but instantly, something feels off. She approaches you, asking, “Y/N?”

Nodding, you’re shocked when she pulls you in for a hug and then apologizes. “I'm sorry. I’m a hugger, and I just feel like I know you already.” 

Callie takes this moment to jump back in the conversation, rushing over to Joe and introducing, “this is my daddy!”

That settles some of your anxiety. You’re not certain you’ll ever get tired of hearing her refer to him as such, and you know he won’t either.

“Man, uhh, hi, nice–nice to meet you.” Immediately, you know that Darius most definitely recognizes Joe. “Big fan.”

“Thanks, man.” Joe, understandably, keeps it simple, and you clear your throat. 

“Thank you for arranging this with us. Callie seems to really like Taylor.”

“Taylor too,” Bianca expresses with a smile, as you realize she also has dimples. It’s a little thing, stupid, but as much as you try, you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. “I swear, you would think they’ve known each other for years.”

Joe chuckles. “They’ve hit it off pretty well.”

“I’m sorry.” You hate being so off-putting and direct, especially given all of your text exchanges with this woman have gone so well, but you have to ask, “have we m—-”

“Bianca!”

A woman’s voice calls out, interrupting your conversation. 

She looks past you and smiles, waving whoever it is over. “My parents,” she informs. “Over here!”

Callie and Taylor are immersed in a conversation, as you make eye-contact with Joe who gives you that ‘what’s wrong?’ expression. Answering truthfully, you shrug and murmur, “I don’t know.”

The presence of Taylor’s grandparents snatches her attention from Callie. “Grandpa!”

Turning around, you manage a small, inauthentic smile to introduce yourself when you see it. And everything is suddenly ten ways wrong. 

There’s a brief second where you question yourself, question your vision, question your entire existence. But as he smiles, holding and kissing his grandchild on the cheek, you just know, know that you’re not wrong.

“Dad,” Bianca speaks, but you’re someplace else, someplace much different. “This is Y/N and…..”

She’s talking, but you’ve completely dissociated. You can’t say anything, paralyzed with shock and an overwhelming feeling of heartache. 

That’s why she looked so familiar. You saw her that day at the precinct, coming into his office to inform him of her sibling’s misbehavior. This is his daughter.

This is your sister. 

The daughter he picked over you. 

And this is your father. 

You’re going to be sick.

Partially aware of Joe’s suddenly cautious gaze on you, you place one hand over your stomach. “Excuse….excuse me….I—” You feel like you’re going to pass out, like four walls surround and are gradually closing in on you. Your throat is about to close up. “I have to go.” And you run, you run as far as your legs can take you, away from that situation, away from that visceral blast from the past, away from the overwhelming emotions that are threatening to overcome you. 

And you don’t stop.

[lowkeycasanova]

the fans love you

i feel like we all know that a lot of vinnie's fans send/spread hate whenever he's simply seen with a girl, but i decided to write this headcanon in which it's the opposite. where the fans absolutely love you

masterlist

————————————————————————-

At first he didn’t know how to approach the situation. You know, finally telling everyone he has a girlfriend. He was also nervous about the reactions. Not that he gave a fuck about what people were to say about him, it was you he was worried about.

And how would he do it? Would he make a tik tok? Would he post a selfie with you on his Instagram story and let people put two and two together?

You told him you didn’t care about what other people thought. Well, maybe deep down you cared a little. Who wouldn’t? But at the end of the day, you couldn’t control what other people said about you and their jealousy.

Vinnie didn’t know the photo had been taken until Jett sent it to him. It was a picture of Vinnie sitting on the couch, you in his lap, kissing each other with your hands caressing his face and his hands wrapped around your waist. Whoever took it was at a distance and zoomed in to take it. It was a chill night at the house. You thought you were alone. Guess not.

Vinnie said, “fuck it”, and posted the picture on Instagram. It was the third picture out of six for his camera roll dump. And tagged you.

You braced yourself for the comments/notifications. Vinnie was giddy with excitement as he knew he just dropped the bomb and there was no going back now.

You told yourself that you were just gonna ignore it for now. Check back in maybe three days.

It hadn’t even been thirty minutes and you opened the app. Disregarding the new activity on your end, you went straight to his comment section.

“oh so we hard launching now?”

“babe, that don’t look like me”

“This was my last straw”

“bout to take a bath with a toaster”

“I’m actually sick”

“Who tf is this?”

“SHES GORGEOUS”

“Y’all acting like he want y’all.”

“You two are so cute!!”

“W post”

Of course there were going to be negative ones. But to your surprise, it wasn’t as bad as you thought. There were also a good number of positive ones.

You go to your notifications and it’s flooded. Again, the negative comments were there. Some asking who you were and why you were with Vinnie. Some putting the throwing up emoji. Nothing that you didn’t expect. Even Vinnie was surprised at the response, so far. He was sure he was gonna have to tell some people off.

In the days to come, he started posting you more since it the relationship was no longer a “secret”. And honestly, it came natural, not looking like he was trying to show everyone he had a girlfriend. He posted you like he would post his friends.

You did the same. Although you both made sure that a lot of things were kept private.

His fans loved that they could see Vinnie from your point of view on your insta story. They loved seeing him act silly while y’all were out to lunch or out shopping because you dragged him. You liked being able to give them that content.

When he would post a video on tik tok and you were in it, some people would be like “she’s OUR gf” and he’d be like “bro what?”

You had an account of your own but wouldn’t post all that often. Vinnie’s fans would comment on his videos, telling him to tell you to post more.

When he streams, he’ll get a lot of “where’s y/n?” comments from viewers. Sometimes they would ask so much that he literally has to say that you’re not even there at the house. He would fake being offended that they weren’t playing attention to his game play. Not that he could blame them. He couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

There would be mail sent to the P.O. box with Vinnie’s name on the packaging label but every single item was for you.

When out in public, fans were just as excited to meet you. You can’t even count how many selfies you took with them.

Even the guy fans. Now, Vinnie isn’t the type to really get jealous, but you could tell something was up by how clingy he got after.

It’s like they loved you more than him and honestly, Vinnie couldn’t have been happier at the turnout.