#i think it's the shovel. making me all confused

[fanged-fanfics]

hey broski! I hope you don't mind, requesting

Pure Vanilla/Shadow Milk x Sorcerer! Eldritch Magic User!Reader, Oneshot if you can :) Their gender is whatever, They/Them

Reader was Pure Vanilla's assistant or bodyguard like Wild berry, and they weren't from vanilla kingdom, but they worked as Pure Vanilla's and tries to fit in, they have a special abilities(Doctor Strange's magic bcuz yes, also bonus if they used to be non-magic cookie) They're mature and responsible.

Reader was a older sibling/Parent-figure to Gingerbrave's friends.

They all visit to Beast Yeast together and yeah, I don't know. You can add and go crazy. Thank you!

☆ A Stroll Into Town — Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk (seperate) x Bodyguard!Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

You walked dutifully along Pure Vanilla, a contained Shadow Milk being dragged behind you both. While the deceitful beast was passive, you'd decided it had been far too long since visiting your friend Gingerbrave. He'd attempted to write you a few times to tell of his adventures, and you missed seeing him in person. "We'll be coming up in just a moment, I think" Pure Vanilla said through the silence. Shadow Milk struggled against the restraints you had him in "I'm so BOOOOREEDD!! Can't I have a little break? I'm gonna crumble away at this rate!" He cried.

You spun around, pointing your sword in his direction "Quiet. You will be detained when the time calls for it". Shadow Milk didn't seem deterred, and he blew a raspberry in your direction. You leaned back with an unamused look, Pure Vanilla patting your shoulder. "Patience, my knight. He'll have his due time". You grumbled, but gave an obedient nod, walking forwards and dragging the fallen beast once more.

You soon entered through a thick patch of trees, peering into a building Kingdom on the other side. Many Sugar Gnomes flooded the place, building stones up with shovels and saws to make the walls. You walked in perfect tandem with Pure Vanilla, and a familiar Cookie turned to see you, his blue eyes shining with excitement. The next thing you knew, you were being tackled to the ground in a hug. "YOU MADE IT!!! The castle is being rebuilt right now, but I'm SOSOSO happy you're here!" Gingerbrave exclaimed brightly.

You grunted while sitting up, patting the shoulder of the crushing hold you were in "Wouldn't miss it for all of Earthbread. Now let me breathe-" you replied. Gingerbrave pulled back "Oh- sorry! I've been getting so strong recently" he said, grinning as he flexed one of his thin crispy arms "Must be all that adventuring". You smiled, chuckling a little "I'm sure. But I bet you still couldn't beat me". "Oh yeah? I bet I could!" Gingerbrave shot back confidently.

You glanced up to Pure Vanilla, who was smiling warmly at seeing you so relaxed. He gave an approving nod, and you stood, facing your now-opponent "Come on, let's put it to the test" you said. Gingerbrave got a running start, causing you to chase after him. Meanwhile, Pure Vanilla positioned Shadow Milk onto a nearby bench. The beast was still grumbling, practically pouting now "This is what we came here for? Ugh, you're making me think a jailcell would've been a better option"

"On the contrary, this is exactly the kind of exposure you need" Pure Vanilla said, taking a seat nearby. When Shadow Milk glared at him in confusion, he went on, "Look around, Shadow Milk. All these Cookies coming together to build something great. Not just a kingdom, but a home. Even our dear knight can't help but join in". He turned his eye staff to the Cookies running about, using it to see the scenery "They're family, friends, comrades. It's everything you need to learn"

"BOOORRIIINNNG" Shadow Milk interrupted, leaning back in his seat "Sheesh, and just when I wanted to think you couldn't get any worse, you bring out the friendship speech. Give it a rest, you fool". Pure Vanilla just gave a shrug. He was always irritated with Shadow Milk, but it wasn't in his nature to lash out or snap. Not after that first time... he focused on his deep breathing instead, finding comfort in watching you battle with your pals.

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes, but found his gaze going to the same area. You looked so carefree out there. So unapologetically yourself. Just you, the sun beaming down, and the thrill of battle. He didn't remember a time where he ever saw you look happier. Maybe there could be something there.. a spot carved out in the earth for something even as vile as him. Maybe a spot right beside you, if he wanted to really hope. But he shoved the thought back down when remembering the scowl you always fixed him with. It was stupid to get his hopes up, he figured. But for now, he was drawn to your form, awestruck by you, and he felt no need to look away.

[gaysondashanon]

someone brought it to my attention that i mistagged a few of my posts, so im sorry for the confusion before.

[gf2bellamy]

haircut — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you're caught off guard by spencer's haircut content warnings: mention of stuffing yourself with ice cream and popcorn a/n: boyband spencer makes me feel things so i just had to write this

You pushed open the door to the conference room. The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of paper and ink from the stacks of case files spread across the table. 

Penelope Garcia was already seated. She looked up from her laptop the moment you entered, her eyes lighting up as she greeted you. 

"Good morning, sunshine!" she chirped, holding out a file for you. 

You smiled, the warmth of her energy making the early morning a little more bearable. “Good morning,” you replied, taking your seat beside her. “Thanks, Pen.” 

She gave you a playful wink. “Always here to deliver your daily dose of doom and gloom.” 

You chuckled, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair, settling in. “How was your weekend?” you asked, genuinely curious. 

Penelope sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh, my dear, it was divine—a full 48 hours of zero crime, binge-watching the most ridiculous reality shows, and eating a huge amount of popcorn. A true masterpiece of relaxation.What about you?” Penelope asked, her eyes fixed on her computer screen as she attempted to pull up the PowerPoint for the case briefing. 

You sighed, stretching slightly in your chair. “Same thing,” you admitted. “Spent the weekend on the couch, barely moving, while shoveling buckets of ice cream down like it was my full-time job.” 

Penelope gasped dramatically, turning to you with wide eyes. “You didn’t move? At all?” 

“Barely,” you confirmed, already missing the comfort of your couch. “Honestly, I think I might have become part of it.” 

She snorted, shaking her head as she finally got the PowerPoint to cooperate. “Respect,” she said, clicking through the slides. 

Before you could respond, the conference room door opened again, and the rest of the team started trickling in. Hotch took a seat next to you, as he opened his files, while JJ leaned toward Penelope, the two of them quickly falling into conversation.

You glanced around the table, scanning the usual faces—until you noticed an empty seat. 

Spencer’s seat. 

Your brows furrowed slightly. He was never late. If anything, he was usually one of the first to arrive, sitting quietly with his coffee, already halfway through the case materials before anyone else had even opened their files. 

When JJ and Penelope began presenting the case, you had no time to let your anxieties cloud your judgement regarding the empty seat. voices pulling you back into work mode.

That was until JJ suddenly smirked and said, “Well, hello.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to her, confused by her reaction—until you followed her gaze. 

And then, your mouth fell open. 

Spencer had just walked in. 

But not the Spencer you had been expecting. 

He looked… different. 

Not in a bad way. Not even in a way you had the right words for. Just—different.

His normally tousled curls had been cut shorter, neater, styled in a way that framed his face and somehow made him look even more—God help you—attractive. It was a change you hadn’t been prepared for, and from the silence that briefly passed over the team, you weren’t the only one caught off guard. 

Spencer gave a small, almost shy smile at JJ’s reaction before heading to his seat. He settled down on the other side of Hotch, setting his bag on the table. 

Hotch barely looked up from his file as he raised an eyebrow and deadpanned, “What, did you join a boyband?” 

A small frown creased Spencer’s face. “No,” he replied, the petulant tone in his voice making a few people chuckle. 

Conversation quickly resumed, the team diving back into case details as though nothing had happened. But you? You were barely processing a single word. 

Your mind was too busy reeling. 

Your eyes kept drifting back to Spencer, betraying you as they traced over his new look. The sharpness of his jaw, the way his now-shorter curls curled just slightly at his temples, the way his freshly cut hair made his cheekbones stand out a little more. 

This was dangerous. Very dangerous. 

Because if you had thought Spencer Reid was cute before, you had no idea how you were going to survive this version of him sitting across the room from you every day. 

As expected, Hotch wrapped up the briefing with his usual stern voice. “Wheels up in thirty.” 

The room stirred with movement as everyone gathered their files and bags, preparing to head to the jet. You slung your bag over your shoulder, but not before sneaking a few more glances in Spencer’s direction. 

Unfortunately, you weren’t as subtle as you thought. 

At some point during the meeting, Derek had caught you staring—not once, not twice, but multiple times. And when your eyes met his across the table, he grinned knowingly, amusement flashing in his gaze. 

You had felt your face heat instantly and quickly looked away, pretending to be very focused on your files. 

Smooth. Real smooth. 

You got up, ready to make a quick exit before you could embarrass yourself further, but just as you turned toward the door, Spencer’s voice stopped you. 

“Hey—uh, is it okay if I ride with you?” 

It was such a simple question. A question he had asked before. Sometimes Spencer drove with Derek, other times he rode with you. It was normal. Casual. 

So why did it suddenly feel like the most dangerous thing in the world? 

You swallowed, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. Your usual response would have been an easy, effortless “Yes. Of course.” But today? Today, you could barely meet his eyes without feeling like your brain short-circuited. 

Because he looked that good. 

Still, you forced yourself to nod, offering a quick, “Sure.” 

You kept your gaze trained on the hallway as you stepped out of the room, hoping that if you avoided looking at him, your heart would stop hammering against your ribs. 

Unfortunately for you, Spencer had already fallen into step beside you. You stepped into the elevator together, the metallic doors sliding shut with a soft ding.

A silence settled between you, not entirely uncomfortable, but not the easy kind you were used to with Spencer either. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him tapping his shoe against the floor—a habit you’d picked up on over the years. Spencer only did that when he was nervous. 

That surprised you. 

He never did that around you. 

You and Spencer were close—so close that sometimes it felt like too close. Like the kind of close that made your heart race when he so much as looked at you a certain way. And today, with his new haircut and the way his suit fit just right, that feeling was overwhelming. 

Your eyes flickered to the floor, watching his shoe tap against the tile before glancing up at him. 

Big mistake. 

Because the moment you did, your heart flipped in your chest. He looked so good, and that single thought refused to leave your mind no matter how hard you tried to push it away. 

You quickly looked away, biting your lip, hoping he hadn’t noticed your staring. 

But of course, he did. 

“If it’s a bother,” Spencer suddenly spoke, his voice quiet as the elevator hummed downward. “I can drive with Derek to the airport instead.” 

Your stomach twisted at the suggestion. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him in the car with you—it was that you wanted it too much. And now he had clearly picked up on your avoidance, which only made your embarrassment ten times worse. 

“No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head as the elevator dinged again, signaling your arrival. “You’re not a bother at all.” 

You barely gave him time to respond before stepping out of the elevator, making a beeline for the parking garage. 

Spencer followed closely behind, and even though you weren’t looking at him, you could feel his gaze on you. 

You unlocked the car, and Spencer slid into the passenger seat beside you. Normally, by this point, the two of you would already be knee-deep in some random discussion—whether it was a case, a bizarre fact he recently read, or a debate about which movies held up over time. 

But right now? 

Silence. 

Not the comfortable kind. Not the kind that came from years of understanding each other so well that words weren’t always necessary. 

This was different. 

Spencer was quiet because he sensed something was off. He was a profiler, after all—he could read people better than anyone, and he had definitely picked up on your shift in behavior.

And you? You were silent because you feared that if you opened your mouth, you’d do something completely mortifying. Like stutter over your words. Or say something dumb. Or worse—blurt out the fact that you had spent the entire morning internally spiraling over how ridiculously good he looked today. 

Your fingers curled around the steering wheel, your gaze fixed ahead. 

Beside you, Spencer set his bag down at his feet, shifting slightly in his seat. You could feel the weight of his stare even without looking at him. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” you said suddenly, staring straight ahead. “I promise there’s nothing wrong. I guess I’m just… off today.” You exhaled, fingers tapping absently against the wheel. The last thing you wanted was for him to think he wasn’t welcome here. “And I am happy to drive us to the airport.” 

Spencer was quiet for a moment, but then, in a soft voice, he asked, “Do… do you want to talk about it?” 

You swallowed hard, pulling out of the parking lot. The road stretched ahead, but your mind was a tangled mess of thoughts, each one worse than the last. 

What were you supposed to say? 

Oh hey, Spencer, funny thing—I literally cannot look at you right now because you’re so insanely attractive that I might actually die on the spot? 

Yeah. Probably not the best thing to say to a coworker—and more importantly, to the friend you’d been secretly crushing on for longer than you cared to admit. 

So instead, you shook your head, offering the safest response you could manage. 

“No, it’s nothing.” 

You weren’t sure if he believed you. But for now, he didn’t push. 

The drive to the airport was short, but thankfully, Spencer had started talking about the case almost immediately. You were relieved—you could focus on the conversation instead of the way your heart kept stupidly skipping beats.

Plus, driving gave you an excuse to not meet his eyes. 

That was the problem, wasn’t it? His eyes. 

Warm and intelligent, always analyzing, always seeing you in ways that made you feel exposed. So, you kept your attention on the road, discussing victim profiles and behavioral patterns. 

Before you knew it, you were pulling into the airport lot. 

You parked carefully, turning off the engine as the conversation about the case trailed off. Both of you got out, grabbing your bags before heading toward the jet. 

It wasn’t until you were walking side by side—no distractions, no case details to focus on—that Spencer suddenly asked, “What do you think of…” He hesitated. “My haircut?” 

You froze for half a second, your grip tightening on the strap of your go-bag. 

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

You hadn’t been prepared for that. 

“Uhm—” You stuttered, caught completely off guard, your brain scrambling for a normal, casual response. 

You walked slower, suddenly hyperaware of his presence beside you. Spencer matched your steps, his hands tucked into his pockets as he glanced at you, waiting. 

Finally, you swallowed and forced yourself to speak. “It looks great,” you said softly. “I like it.” 

Spencer tilted his head slightly, watching you. “Yeah?” His lips curved into a small, pleased smile. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, willing yourself to keep it together. 

But then—because the universe apparently wanted you to suffer—your mouth betrayed you. 

“I mean, it makes you look…” You trailed off, but Spencer was still watching you, waiting for you to finish, and oh god, you were already in too deep. You cleared your throat. “Really handsome.” 

Spencer blinked. 

Your stomach dropped. 

You hadn’t meant to say that out loud. 

Heat immediately crept up your neck, and you snapped your gaze forward, walking faster in hopes of escaping your own embarrassment. But Spencer—being Spencer—was too damn observant for his own good. 

His eyes widened slightly, something clicking in his mind. His posture straightened, his brows lifting ever so slightly as realization dawned. 

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding my eyes.” 

It wasn’t a question. 

Your breath hitched. 

“No, no,” you said quickly, shaking your head as you picked up your pace, the jet now in sight. If you just got inside, if you just sat down and pretended this conversation never happened, maybe—maybe—you could salvage what was left of your dignity. 

But Spencer wasn’t letting it go that easily. 

“Wait—” He reached for your wrist, his touch light but enough to stop you in your tracks. 

You swallowed hard. 

Slowly, reluctantly, you turned to face him, keeping your eyes trained somewhere near his shoulder instead of his face. 

Spencer let out a soft breath, studying you. “So… I was right?” 

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Your heart was pounding. 

“About you avoiding my eyes,” he clarified, his voice softer now, more careful. 

You exhaled sharply, forcing a nervous laugh as you rubbed the back of your neck. “I—no, I just—” You sighed, giving up mid-sentence. Lying to Spencer Reid was pointless. He could probably read you better than you could. 

His fingers twitched at his side, like he was debating whether or not to reach for you again. Instead, he tilted his head, his eyes flickering across your face, searching for something. “You think I look… handsome?” 

You groaned, shutting your eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. “Spencer, please.” 

But he wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t smug. He looked genuinely curious. 

And that—somehow—was worse. 

You sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Yes, okay? I think you look… really good.” You avoided his gaze, focusing on a spot over his shoulder. “Too good, actually, which is kind of annoying because it makes it really hard to—” You stopped yourself before you could say concentrate at work like a normal human being, realizing how that sounded. 

Spencer’s lips parted slightly, as if surprised by your admission. But then, slowly, his mouth curved into a small smile. 

Not a smirk, not teasing—just… soft. 

Warm. 

And something about that undid you a little. 

“I didn’t think you noticed things like that about me,” he admitted quietly. 

Your eyes snapped to his. 

Was he serious? 

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “Spencer, are you kidding? Of course I notice things like that about you.” 

His smile faltered just slightly, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face before he looked down, like he was processing that. 

The jet door opened in the distance, voices echoing faintly from inside, but neither of you moved. 

Then, after a long moment, Spencer glanced back up at you. 

“I think you look really good all the time,” he said simply. 

Your breath caught. 

Before you could respond, a voice called out from the jet—Derek, naturally. “You two coming or what?” 

You cleared your throat, tearing your gaze away from Spencer’s as you took a step toward the jet. “Yeah, coming!” you called back, trying to keep your voice steady. 

Spencer fell into step beside you, hands in his pockets, but his small smile remained. 

And as you both climbed the steps to the jet, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this conversation wasn’t over yet. 

[vicariousresearcher]

Neighbour!141 and how they get your attention.

Neighbour!Price who is constantly offering you help. Sees some furniture boxes at your door and is offering to put it together for you. No? Well surely you need some tools at least, make it all easier. No no he doesn’t mind truly. He doesn’t want you trying to fix everything up with just an allen key now does he?

Shovels your side walk, up to your door even. When you come to him the next day all apologetic and saying that you were just about to do it, seriously he didn’t need to. He just brushes you off saying that ‘birds don’t need to be out doin that.' It‘s okay, he was doing his anyway. 

Listening when you complain about your shitty landlord who has yet to do anything about your faulty water heater. You’re in those shorts he’s only seen through the window, arms crossed and rambling as he thumbs at the valves. 

“It’s a no go bird. You gotta buy a whole new heating element and get it put in dere. If you’re needin to, you can shower at my place till this gets figure’d out ya?”

Neighbour!Kyle who honestly you see more outside of your neighbourhood than in it. You have no clue how but you two always end up in the same place at the same time. 

Grocery shopping? Oh he's here too, it has the best deals on produce! Excursion? Oh he just wanted to see the new exhibit at the aquarium just like you, great minds think alike. Eating something in your favourite cafe during your lunch break? He slides in the seat across from you with a playful smile saying ‘how its nice to see you here neighbour’. 

You don’t even know he slipped a tracker in your purse during one of these bump ins.

That's how it starts. A friendship with a man you apparently have so much in common with. You have to with how much you see him at your favourite places. Even that niche little diner that you love as soon as you mention it he’s finishing off its name and talking about how their sweets are so good.

“What do you mean you haven’t had any? Want me to grab you some next time I go-actually no how about we just go together. I need to see what else you’ve been depriving yourself of. Come on, we’ll go in the evening when it’s nice and quiet so it’ll just be us.”

Neighbour!Johnny who sees the sweet thing living next door and knows he needs to get his hands on you. But he’s smarter than those pretty eyes and dumb grin would let you think. He wants you to come to him. He just needs to prove what a prize he is first. 

So he finds every chance possible to workout outside. 

Deliberately does his stretches for his morning run where you’ll be able to see while you make your coffee for the morning. Absolutely chuffed when he makes eye contact with you while he’s mid shirt pull. The way you go bug eyed when caught ogling has him ready wanting to ask if you liked the show.

Now, god forbid you have a dog. He’s making friends through the fence, coming up to your door offering to take the sweet thing on a walk if you want. Truly he would love to have a running buddy please let him take your pupper out. It becomes normal enough that you don’t even bat an eye when he’s offering to take your baby out when you’re not home. 

“I don’t mind taking my boy out once in a while. His mama’s busy but I’m not. Where’d you say you keep your outside key?”

Neighbour!Simon who quickly learns that he can’t offer to help you round because it comes off as….creepy. He’s the one you think is going to tag you with a tracker or follow you to work. The one that has you holding your keys between your fingers when pulling in at night.

So he takes a different approach. Needy, confused, and helpless. A military man entirely unacquainted with domestic duties.

He’s pathetic in a stuck racoon kind of way. You know you shouldn’t trust him but the way you’ve heard his smoke alarm go off 3 times in the time you’ve been here has you messaging if he wants some of your supper since you made too much. You catch yourself adding far more while cooking just so you have something to drop off to his doorstep. 

You don’t even know how it happened but now you’re in his kitchen teaching him how to make some easy meals with your chicken marinade recipes. Something he won’t burn or over salt. He’s got you rambling away, so blissfully unaware. Safe in his home, so trusting of him now.. He’s made so much improvements with you, no more scurrying away the minute he’s a couple feet away. 

“‘m sorry for needin so much from ya. If there's anything I can do just message me ya? Don’t matter what time, I’ll come. Anything you need.”

[melodyreads]

Our Little Secret

You and Hamzah are in a secret relationship. While you guys kept each other a secret to protect one another, was it really what you both wanted?

Contains: fem reader, angst, confused reader, lack of communication, arguing, happy ending <3

a/n: I appreciate all the love I've received for my most recent works. Hope you guys enjoy this one, it's definitely my best yet.

---

From an outside perspective, there was nothing out of the ordinary about this situation. Just two couples out on a double date. Me, Mandy, Martin, and Hamzah grabbing dinner at our usual pizza spot. Nothing suspicious. Nothing complicated. Just friends catching up.

Mandy waved kindly as she saw me approach their group. Martin stood next to her seemingly making a joke to Hamzah as he stood there with his hands in his pockets wearing a neutral expression on his face. That was, until he saw me arrive.

A familiar feeling of excitement filled my stomach at the look on Hamzah’s face. I wanted to run up to him and throw my arms around him while greeting him with a kiss. He would smile down at me as his left hand placed itself in my back jean pocket.

Except, of course, Martin and Mandy were the only couple actually together. 

I guess you could say me and Hamzah were together too. We basically lived at each other's apartments, always leaving clothes in each other's space. I would wake up to Hamzah’s messy curls aghast on the pillow next to mine. I would plant his face with kisses as he grabbed my waist and pulled me on top of him.  

We were together, but in a, “we don’t want to put a label on it” kind of way. No commitments, no pressure—just what we wanted.

I wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

For me, it was about not wanting anything serious right now. I wanted to protect my relationship with Hamzah, what we had was different than anything I had experienced with boyfriends in the past.

For Hamzah, it had more to do with his online image— he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with their fans' inevitable perceptions of you if you two were to date. I joked that he was just playing up the “I’m available” act for his followers. He would always roll his eyes but I’m sure this was part of it.

If people found out we were together, it’d ruin the whole thing. Which is why I had to be extra careful. Even around our best friends.

So imagine my horror when, halfway through dinner, Martin suddenly narrows his eyes at me.

“Hey… isn’t that Hamzah’s sweater?”

The table goes silent and my stomach drops.

I freeze with my pizza halfway to my mouth, my brain scrambling for a response. The oversized grey hoodie I’m wearing is definitely Hamzah’s— the words “nap queen” in black letters I envisioned on my chest made me want to laugh and bury my head in my hands at the same time. I didn’t even think about it when I threw it on before leaving.

It even smelled like him.

I set my pizza down trying to brush it off, “Am I not allowed to wear your guys merch anymore? Y’all should be grateful.” I say acting offended.

Mandy’s eyes flick between me and Hamzah, who—thank god—keeps his expression cool, shoveling food into his mouth as he nodded his head at my response..

Martin, however, is still staring. “I swear that one is yours though, isn’t it Hamzah? It has the exact same material as the one you wear. ”

I let out a short laugh, trying to play it off. “I’m not sure why because this one is mine.” My voice started to shake

Pull it together.

“It looks exactly like Hamzah’s,” Martin insists. He turns to Mandy. “Doesn’t it?”

Mandy shrugs, sipping her drink. “A lot of those hoodies look the same.”

Hamzah finally speaks, his voice casual but just a little too fast. “Yeah, man, it’s just a hoodie. All those hoodies look the same, part of the reason we sold so many.”

Martin still looks unconvinced, but he lets it go, turning his attention back to his food. My entire body is tense, and across the table, I can feel Hamzah suppressing a smirk.

Under the table, his finger interlocks with mine, a slow, deliberate touch that sends a jolt up my spine. I flick my eyes toward him, and there’s something smug in his gaze—something knowing.

I roll my eyes at him, trying to ignore the way my face feels hot.

That was too close.

But the truth is, I kind of love the risk. I love the way we sneak glances at each other when no one’s looking, the way my body reacts when he’s just close enough to touch but doesn’t. I love the late nights, the whispered conversations, the fact that we’re both holding onto something we’re pretending we don’t want to name.

God I wanted him bad.

---

The party was loud—too loud. Music pulsed through the walls, and the mix of voices, laughter, and the occasional clatter of a drink being set down filled the air. Mandy and Martin were off in their own little world, and I had lost track of most people in the crowd.

Hamzah settled next to me "How're you doing?" he asked, leaning down to meet my ears while looking out into the sea of people.

I sighed in response, "Alright, I guess..." I snapped my head to meet Hamzah's dark eyes, "...Can we go home soon?" I asked sticking out my bottom lip. He chuckled before leaning down once more.

"Come with me," he murmured, his voice just low enough for only me to hear.

I barely had time to react before his fingers brushed against my wrist—just a ghost of a touch, but enough to send a jolt through me. Before I knew it, I was being pulled down the hall, away from the noise, away from prying eyes.

He didn’t stop until we were inside an empty room, the door clicking shut behind us. The sudden quiet made my pulse hammer in my ears.

"Wait, what if someone sees?" I whispered, even though I was far too gone to start moving away from him.

Hamzah exhaled, leaning back against the door with a sly look covering his face. His eyes were dark, and the dim lighting cast sharp shadows on his face. "I don't care," he said.

That was a lie. He did care. We both did. That was the whole reason we were keeping this secret.

And yet… here we were.

The tension thickened in the air between us, something unspoken crackling like a wire about to snap. Hamzah's jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides before he finally gave in, stepping closer.

I barely had time to breathe before his hands cupped my face, his touch gentle despite the desperation in his eyes. This was the last look I could register before his lips were on mine.

A slow, deep kiss started, stealing the air from my lungs, and making my heart stutter.

I wanted this. God, I wanted this.

But before I could get too carried away, I thought of where we could have been. Kissing in the middle of a crowd, unwavering concerns about what others around us thought. His hand in mine not hidden beneath a table, but revealed proudly.

The weight of it—the secret, the hiding, the way we only allowed ourselves these moments in the dark—it was all too much.

A sharp pang in my chest pulled me back to reality. Before I could stop myself, I tore away, my breath ragged.

“Hamzah, I—” My voice broke, my hands shaking as I stepped back. “I can’t keep doing this.”

His brows furrowed, his hands hovering in the empty space between us like he wanted to pull me back but knew he shouldn’t. “What do you mean... what's wrong?”

I forced a swallow, blinking hard. “Being with you in secret... it just hurts too much.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but the way Hamzah flinched made it clear he heard every word.

His lips parted, like he was about to say something, but I couldn’t stand there and let him try to fix it with more whispered reassurances, more stolen touches that would only leave me aching for something real.

Before he could even get a word out, I was already out the door.

I pushed past the crowd, the music and chatter barely registering. My chest was tight, my pulse racing. I needed air.

I needed to get out of here.

The cold night air hit me as I stepped outside, but it didn't stop me. As I started to come to terms with what just happened, tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill. I sucked in a sharp breath, hugging my arms around myself, trying to shake the feeling of Hamzah’s hands still lingering on my skin.

Then, I heard determined footsteps tracking behind me.

“Wait.”

Hamzah’s voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to turn around. But then his hand caught mine, stopping me in my tracks.

I exhaled shakily as he moved in front of me, his brows furrowed, his expression torn between frustration and desperation. Whatever it was caused your whole body to shudder.

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” he said, his voice rough, his grip tightening just slightly, “Not if it means losing you.”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering. “What about your whole ‘single guy’ thing? What about—”

“Screw all that,” he cut me off, shaking his head. “None of it matters if it means I can’t be with you. I don’t care who knows.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of me.

I searched his face, looking for hesitation, for doubt. But there was none. Just him—bare, vulnerable, real.

A shaky laugh left my lips, part disbelief, part relief. “Are you sure about this?”

Hamzah let out a soft chuckle, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from my face before resting gently against my cheek. “Yeah, I mean it.” His thumb traced my skin, slow and reverent. “I want you. For real.”

I didn’t need any more convincing.

This time, when I reached out and kissed him, I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. About who was watching or who would care. What came next and what the future held.

From now on, we came first.

---

a/n: Hope you'll enjoyed this!!!!! It's so hard to end stories, but I think I'm getting better at it lol. Lmk if you guys want a part two????????

[worldlxvlys]

control

dealer! chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smutttt, overstimulation, edging, orgasm denial, p in v, cream pie, cursing, oral (male + fem receiving), 69, drug use

summary: the effects of the weed that you and chris were smoking made you horny enough, but add his recent insta pictures into the mix ? any sense of self-control you had left your body and suddenly, all you could focus on was making him a trembling, whiny mess under you.

a/n: idea credits to my love @hearts4chriss <33

everything was hazy.

my red eyes drooped ever so lightly, eventually fluttering closed as i took a hit from the joint that chris and i were sharing.

the smoke floated around in the air while we spoke about whatever came to our minds, giving each other our full attention.

well, i was paying attention, just not to his words. i wanted to listen to what he had to say, but i couldn’t help but find myself fixating on everything else.

the way his tongue darted out every now and then, wetting his dried lips.

his cheeks, which were lightly dusted with a rosey tint to match the color of his lips.

his hair, strands messily sticking out in every direction, only adding to how good he looked.

the veins in his hand protruded from his skin as he dug into the ice cream he brought over for us, causing me to clear my throat as i attempted to regain my composure.

i watched as he shoveled the sweet dessert into his mouth, just before the half-melted treat could spill anywhere.

“and i was gonna ask you which pictures you think i should post today, but i ended up picking-”

"wait, you posted?” i asked, grabbing my phone from its place beside me on the bed.

my eyes widened slightly when i saw the pictures, he looked so good.

he always looked good, but these pictures in particular turned me on a little more than they should have.

“you’re joking, right ?” i asked, the words flying out of my mouth before i could stop them.

“what?” he asked confused.

the weed seemed to have taken any self-control that remained in my body, as i immediately straddled chris’s lap.

“you didn’t think you were gonna be able to post those pictures without getting your brains fucked out, did you?”

he stared up at me, mouth hanging open while his hands held onto my waist.

“i mean, i don’t-” his mouth opened and closed like a fish, while a jumbled mess of words fell from his mouth.

i hooked my fingers onto the waistband of his shorts, effectively shutting him up as he squirmed in anticipation.

i moved from my place on top of him, situating myself on my knees between his legs.

i pulled the fabric down slightly to reveal his happy trail, immediately adorning the newly exposed skin with kisses.

he let out a low whine at the feeling, hips bucking up into my face.

i quickly pushed his hips down, holding him steady as i ran my tongue along his skin.

“fuck” he sighed out, eyes falling shut as he swallowed harshly.

i could tell that the weed was affecting him, his sensitivity to my touch growing with every movement.

“lift” i told him as he followed my instructions, raising his hips while i pulled his shorts down.

i brought my hand to his clothed dick, which pressed against his boxers angrily.

i pressed a kiss to his crotch, eliciting a low whine from him.

“what do you want, chris?” i asked as i began to palm him.

“need your mouth” he moaned out.

“lay back, take off your boxers” i told him, watching as he eagerly did what i said.

when he was laid fully naked on the bed, i stripped for him.

i joined him on the bed, sitting behind him with my chest pressed to his back.

i wrapped my arms around his waist, my hand finding its way to his dick.

"i- fuck- i said my mouth” he groaned out as i collected the pre-cum that leaked out of his tip in my hand.

“you’ll get my mouth” i spoke as i squeezed his base, his hips jerking up in response, “when i feel like it”

he remained silent after that, only moans and whines leaving his mouth as i continued to move my hand up and down his length.

“does it feel good, chris?” i asked, whispering into his ear while i nibbled the lobe.

“fuck, yes. please don’t stop” he groaned, thrusting his hips up into my hand.

“tell me when you’re close, baby” i spoke before beginning to take the skin of his neck between my lips, sucking harshly.

i littered his neck with dark bruises while he continued to fuck himself against my hand.

“so eager, my love. but if you want to cum, you’ll have to slow down” i told him.

“n-no, please ! i need to cum so bad” he spoke, his pace remaining the same.

“chris. slow down” i spoke again, causing the pace of his hips to slow against my hand.

“there you go, is it so hard to listen?” i asked as he let out a groan.

“fuck” he whispered out as his veiny cock moved against my hand slowly.

“i’m close” he spoke, his breathing picking up.

before he was able to let go, however, i moved my hand away.

“shit” he whined as his cock twitched, but he was left unsatisfied.

“you don’t get to finish that easily, baby. you gotta work for it” i spoke, chuckling as he went to move his hand towards his dick.

i quickly grabbed his hand before he got the chance to touch himself, “keep your hands behind your back. i swear to god, if you move them i’ll tie your ass up” i spoke into his ear.

he did as i said, but never acknowledged that he heard me. i turned his face to look at me, tilting my head at him, “you got that?”

“yes” he whispered as he stared at my lips.

i wrapped my hand around his neck, bringing his face up to mine to pull him into a heated kiss.

he moaned into my lips, while our lips molded together.

“you ok?” i asked him, noticing the dazed look on his face.

“you’re such a freak” he smirked up to me.

“and you’re such a submissive bitch” i answered, letting go of his face and moving my hand back down to his length.

i circled my thumb around his tip, pushing it against the slit, making his hips jolt up into my hand.

“such a tease” he mumbled under his breath.

in one swift motion, i moved to his side and pulled his shoulders back to lay down.

i moved so that each of my legs were on either side of his body.

“you obviously need some help in shutting the hell up” i spoke before moving to sit on his face.

chris immediately hooked his hands around my thighs, working my pussy with his tongue.

i leaned forward, taking his dick into my hand and swirling my tongue around his tip.

he groaned into me, the vibrations intensifying my pleasure.

i moaned against him in response, making his noises increase in volume.

i took as much of him as i could, using my hand to stroke the parts of his member that my mouth couldn’t reach.

he pulled my lower body harder against his mouth, his tongue focusing on my clit while his nose nudged against my needy hole.

i focused on his tip, teasing it as much as i could with my tongue, causing him to push his hips up in need.

i could tell he was getting close, so i removed my mouth from him with an audible pop.

he let out a whine of disappointment, his hands loosening around my thighs.

“you wanna cum so bad? fine.” i spoke as i moved down his body, making my way between his legs.

he sat upright, watching wordlessly as i turned around to face him.

he stared up at me with his mouth hung open while i aligned him with my entrance, sinking down onto him.

his hands automatically flew up to my waist when he bottomed out, stopping me from moving.

“god, i could cum right now if you start moving” deciding to test his limits, i spoke “good” before beginning to move anyway.

“fuck- oh my god” he groaned out as he began to shake underneath me.

i knew his frustrations from his previously ruined orgasm were building up, but i didn’t think it’d actually make him finish so quickly.

“i can’t- holy shit” he shuddered as he shot his load into me.

i gave him a minute to regain his breath, his grip on my hips tightening slightly.

“i still- i wanna make you feel good. please let me fuck you” he begged.

“yeah? give it to me, baby” he lifted me up slightly before beginning to thrust his hips up into mine.

the feeling of his hot cum being fucked into me sent me into a frenzy, only making me wetter.

i could tell he was struggling, overworking his already spent muscles to make sure i felt good.

“you’re so good to me, chris. let me take care of you” i whispered down to him.

his thrusts came to a hault, allowing me to take over as i rocked my hips into his.

“fuck, yes. oh my god” he shakily moaned as his head fell onto my shoulder.

i brought my hand to his hair, raking my fingers through it slowly while i rolled my hips on top of him sensually.

“look so pretty like this, oh” his face scrunched up as he began to whimper under me, making me clench around him at the sound.

“fuck- i’m so sensitive” he spoke.

“i know, baby. can’t help it, love hearing those sounds you make” i breathed out.

“still feeling ok?" i asked.

he nodded his head at that, “yes, so close. can i cum?” he asked as his hands slid to my ass, groping and massaging the skin.

“wait for me, i’m almost there. can you hold it w little longer?” i asked, reaching between us to rub my clit.

“t-too much” he whined, his face scrunching up while a few tears fell down his face.

“take it, chris” i told him, wiping his tears away while he twitched inside of me.

his legs began to shake involuntarily, increasing the friction between us.

“fuck” his voice broke as he moaned out, eyes rolling back as he bit his lip.

“go ahead, chris. let go” i told him, his hips stuttering as his head flew back and he filled me up with his cum.

it wasn’t long before i finished on top of him, my release dripping out of me and onto his dick.

we took a minute to catch our breath, staying in the same position for a while.

“here, let’s get you cleaned up” i spoke, moving to get up when he stopped me.

“wait, can we just stay like this for a while?” he asked, his arms wrapping tighter around me.

“of course” i told him, wrapping my arms around his neck to hug his body close to mine.

“you ok?” i asked as i rubbed soothing circles into his back.

“when i’m with you? always” he spoke, placing a kiss to my shoulder.

🍑🍑🍑🍑

dwb! chris masterlist

main masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nicksmainbitch @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

[vitentia]

DEAR DIARY, DAY TWO OF HAVING A GIRLFRIEND….MIGHT DIE.

pairings ━━ jackson!ellie williams x reader

warnings ━━ tooth rotting fluff I fear

synopsis ━━ you like Ellie, ellie likes you, she grows enough tit to ask you out and surprise! you said yes! yet somehow you’re more nervous around your girlfriend than when she was your crush…AGH!

authors note ━━ did I go ghost for a year? yes. did I hear someone ask for more fluff/angst amidst freaktober on tumblr? also yes. I have come to provide🫡

IMPORTANT note — if you wanna request an Ellie or Abby fic, just pm me! I think coming up with all the fics on my own is the reason I burnt out but send me any ideas you have that aren’t smut bc I SUCK at writing that. Im also considering writing for arcane?? So yeah!

Cleaning horse shit isn’t the sexiest job in the world, which is why you were eternally grateful your girlfriend had been assigned to go on patrol with Tommy this morning. Even the thought of “your girlfriend” sent shivers down your spine and a red hot blush on your cheeks. You sniffled and wiped your cheek against your shoulder, conveniently the jacket your girlfriend, Ellie, had given you last night.

Again, you fought back a smile as the words “my girlfriend, ellie” popped into your head. Just 48 hours ago you were accepting the fact that you might have to yearn for the brunette from afar for the rest of your lives, and today you were biting your lips trying not to look too happy shoveling actual shit.

“Hey girlie!” Called out the man in charge, his big gut making it’s way into the shed before his head did as he leaned against his favorite horses stead. “You’ve been relieved. Tommy and Ellie are on their way back, just put the girls back where they belong and I’ll feed them, get it?”

“Got it.”

“Good.” He replied quickly before raising the pitch of his voice and cooing down at the large horse between his palms like a baby.

You snickered at his actions but couldn’t resist the speedy pace you walked at as you grabbed your hanging bag and ran towards the shed bathroom. As soon as you locked the door behind you, you immediately shoved off your almost knee length rubber boots and changed into your cutest (aka least creased) boots. Despite not having any perfume like they did back then, you did make sure to grab a special bar of soap before you left your house and scrubbed the lavender scent into your arms like your life depended on it. Looking in the dirty mirror, you tried to vaguely make out whether or not you looked presentable. You tried lowering the v-cut shirt you were wearing but immediately shook your head and decided against it.

Just as you were in between hyping yourself up and finding an escape route, the guards on top shouted out, stating that the doors were opening.

You were a nervous wreck. Constantly pushing your hair in front of your forehead and then behind your ear while simultaneously walking towards the front of Jackson where your girlfriend would be making an entrance.

With the sun beaming behind her head and shining her brown locks into a beautiful golden color, you had to raise your hand above your eyes to protect yourself. Has she always been this beautiful or are the God’s reminding me how perfect my girlfriend is?

“Millers! You’re back early.” A nearby card player called out, kicking his feet back against a wooden barrel with a cigarette hanging half out of his mouth.

“Yeah well, Ellie was killin’ them things left and right. Would’ve thought she had somewhere to be.” Tommy joked, sliding off his horse and giving you the reigns with a smile. For a second, your heart skipped a beat, believing she might’ve told him on their journey.

“Hey, if you’re a lousy shot, just say that.” Ellie teased him back with a shrug, remaining on her horse with no movement towards getting down. You looked up at her in confusion but as soon as your eyes connected, you immediately looked away, feeling your face burn.

“Yeah, next time I go out on patrol I know who to call.” The man chuckled

“Thank you, man.” Tommy beamed

“Not you, dipshit.”

You and Ellie let out a surprised cackle, and while you tried covering yours up with a cough as Tommy glared in your direction, Ellie couldn’t hold back her hearty laugh. She slapped her thigh and wiped an invisible tear from her eye as Tommy rambled on. While her uncle turned his anger to the card player, she caught your eye and motioned her head towards the stables.

“Lead the way.”

You nodded and lowered your gaze again, mentally freaking out as you guided Tommy’s horse back into her stable with Ellie following close behind on her own. Whilst you removed her gear gently, you could hear the clanging of Ellie following suit behind you. And when she finished, she simply watched you.

“You’re so gentle with them.” You jumped at her words, not expecting her to be so close as she leaned against the entrance of the stable. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She chuckled lightly.

“No, you’re good I, uh, I have this…idea that they’re so on edge from being outside that they can’t really tell when it’s time to relax and when it’s time to work. So I just try to make the transition easier, you know? No loud noises, extra treats, stuff like that..” You answered, giving the ol’ girl a nice rub on her sides.

Ellie hummed and leaned her body backwards, looking both ways to see if anyone was around before stepping into the stable you were in. Her steps were slow as she approached you and you resisted the urge to step away, not for any reason besides you literally thought you might combust being this close to her.

She stood in front of you, eyes staring deeply into yours while her hands remained at her sides. “I’ve been thinking about you all morning.” She said in a low voice.

“Really?”

“Of course.” Her head lowered to find your hands, she clasped both of your hands in both of hers as she admired you. “How could I not?”

Your mind was screaming, blaring alarms, and throwing burning papers in the air as the people in your head attempted to regulate…well everything.

You let out an airy chuckle and looked down bashfully. “Well, you’re lucky you didn’t see me an hour before.” She gave you a confused look, so you continued. “I was cleaning up after the horses.”

Ellie looked up at the ceiling and thought about the vagueness of your words before a smile grew on her cheeks. She lifted her hand to cup her cheek to look her in the eye. “I think you would’ve looked beautiful anyway.”

“Shoveling horse shit?” You snorted

She shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t get in your mouth, no harm, no foul, right?”

“Ewww!” You whined as Ellie laughed at your reaction. You shivered at the thought. “Too early.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” She surrendered, admiring your entire face for a minute before looking behind her quickly. “Hey…” she whispered, almost nervous in a way.

“Hey.”

She moved closer to you, reaching up to stroke your cheek and hoping you wouldn’t notice the way her hand shook the entire way up. “Can I get a kiss?”

Your heart leaped. Your vocal chords were nowhere to found, so you attempted a simple nod. But Ellie smiled at you and shook her head.

“Can I hear you say it?”

You gulped. “Please kiss me, Ellie.”

With a wide smile, she leaned in and connected your lips so gently, you felt like you were being kissed by a fairy. She let you both grow comfortable in the kiss before pulling away lightly, giving you the same chance, and leaning in once more when you chased after her lips. The two of you remained in a tight embrace, neither pushing the others boundary too much but putting enough pressure to know she were there. For a minute, you forgot where you were.

“Hey girlie!” A voice boomed

The two of you pulled away in shock, looking between each other before you quickly looked around at your surroundings and hurriedly threw a brown bag in Ellie’s direction. She caught it in both arms before spinning around to face the burly old man who sauntered over.

“Williams. What are you doing in my shed?” He questioned her.

You popped out from the other side of the horse and patted her side. “Sorry, sir. She wanted to give the girls some treats for their hard work out there.”

He looked between you two suspiciously before crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Ellie with a look you couldn’t put your finger on. “So you’re the one who’s been sneaking my girls extra snacks, eh?”

Ellie’s mouth opened and closed for a second before sighing and handing him the bag as if she’d been caught. “Yep, it’s me. Sorry, man.”

He sucked his teeth and snatched the bag out of her hand, reaching inside to grab a red apple and bite into it. “You’re lucky you’ve saved my ass more times than I can count, Williams.” He pointed at her and then to you. “And you, stop bein’ so damn nice. Y’all are gonna fatten my horses up. Now, get.”

You and Ellie swiftly made your way out of the horse shed, walking side by side inconspicuously throughout Jackson. Your hands occasionally bumped each other and you both resisted the urge to grab it. Ellie, because she didn’t want her business out to the whole world, and you, because your hands were probably dripping from how sweaty they felt.

You’d never felt this nervous around anyone. The secrecy of your relationship made it all the more wild. And yeah, it would be nice for everyone to know that Ellie is yours.

It’s also just nice being able to tell yourself that Ellie fucking Williams is your girlfriend.

[lovebugism]

steve finds out reader hasn’t slow danced with a guy before… like maybe she never went to prom with a date and he makes it really sweet for her

when steve finds out you've never slow danced with anybody, he takes it as a challenge (fluff, established relationship, 0.8k)

Languishing on Steve Harrington’s couch, you rest your full weight against his shoulder like you’re trying to melt with him there. You vaguely hear him shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth while you stare unblinking at the black-and-white film playing ahead of you.

“Slow dancing is, like… really weird,” you observe in a quiet murmur, features all twisted in confusion.

“Whaddaya mean?” the boy beside you wonders through his mouthful.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a lazy shrug. “It’s just, like… swaying in place… really awkwardly.”

“It doesn’t have to be awkward.”

You wave your hand at the television across the room, where a couple of Old Hollywood actors dance like both of them’s caught the plague. “Look at that and tell me that’s not awkward!” you argue and turn your chin to look at him. 

Your faces are much closer than you thought. The tip of your nose threatens to brush the chiseled bridge of his. The proximity leaves you wishing it had.

Steve scoffs with a boyish scrunch to his features. “Well, those two have, like, zero chemistry! You gotta slow dance with someone you like, you know? Like, really like,” he explains, gesturing wildly with his hand and jostling you slightly in the process. “Then you got yourself a good time, alright? You’re pressed all close, holding each other’s hands, dancing through the sexual tension—”

“It’s weird,” you insist with a scrunched nose.

“It’s nice!”

“Let’s just agree to disagree,” you shrug.

Steve shakes his wild head and shoves another handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Yeah, I can’t do that,” he says, muffled through the food in his cheek.

You snort a quiet laugh in return.

“So you’re saying you’ve never slow danced with someone before?” he wonders with his mouthful, then swallows. “Like, ever?”

Your face scrunches like it’s obvious. “No.”

“Not even at prom?”

“I didn’t have a date at prom!”

“I didn’t either!” he tells you, which you think is only half a lie. Nancy had just broken up with him then — whether he was too heartbroken or too lazy to find another date is still up in the air, really.

Your eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “The entire female class of 1985 was your prom date.”

“I’m just sayin’,” he insists, laughing quietly to himself. “You’re missin’ out here, babe.”

You scoff and reach for the bowl in his lap, stealing a handful of room-temperature popcorn for yourself. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”

—————

The sound of vintage violins swells distantly in the otherwise quiet house as the film credits roll. Lit only by the amber stove light, you dump uneaten and unpopped kernels into the trashcan in the kitchen. A record crackles in the room over. A song floats gently on the midnight air.

Everybody loves somebody sometime…

Everybody falls in love somehow…

Your brows furrow when Steve appears in the doorway, rocking his hips back and forth and snapping his fingers to the languid beat. He sings the words quietly to himself, hardly trying but still sounding sort of decent anyway. “Something in your kiss just told me... My sometime… Is now…”

“What are you doing?” you wonder aloud, biting back a chuckle.

“Dancing,” the boy answers.

Your brows furrow as he approaches you — hips still swaying, fingers still snapping. “…By yourself?” you question slowly.

He cages his plush bottom lip between his teeth and shakes his head. With wide, warm palms, he smooths his hands over your sides. “Mm-mm,” he hums and squeezes your hips. “With you.”

His touch urges you to sway alongside him, but you tense almost immediately — a virtually immovable force. “No, Steve!” you scold through giggles, shoving him away with a halfhearted hand. “Steve, don’t!”

“C’mon!” he shouts over your protests as his chuckles entwine with your own. “Just dance with me! It’s not gonna kill ya!”

You make a faint grumbly noise of disapproval but don’t fight about it any further. With your face still scrunched in a childlike pout, you let him take one of your hands into his larger one and rest your other against his chest. With a palpable hesitance, you follow his subtle side-to-side movements.

Something in my heart keeps saying…

My someplace is here…

“This is so cheesy,” you giggle to yourself.

“But it’s nice, right?” Steve presses with raised brows. 

Rogue chestnut hairs fall over his forehead, and you fight the urge to push them back. Your nose scrunches in a silent answer, and he laughs. You can feel the golden sound rumble in his chest. 

“You don’t have to say anything… I know you like it.”

You roll your eyes at his smug grin. “Only ‘cause you’re such a good dance partner,” you tease with a knowing squint in your eyes.

His gaze swims with honey as his rosy lips quirk in a lopsided smile. “Don’t make me blush,” he jokes in a quiet murmur, already leaning down to kiss you. 

Steve swallows your laughter with a pink, petaled mouth pressed against your lips — tasting faintly of popcorn, cheap beer, and adoration.

The song crackles quietly through it all.

—And although my dream was overdue…

Your love made it well worth waiting…

For someone like you…

[splatteringyandere]

Days of the Week as Yanderes

Monday is your cold coworker. He hardly ever talks to you outside of dumping work on your desk. Honestly, you think he has some sort of problem with you. He certainly doesn’t treat any of your other coworkers this way. Demanding and unfriendly, like he owns you. It doesn’t matter if you complain to HR, he’s such a model employee they couldn’t afford to let him go.

“Y/N, I have another stack of paperwork for you. I know it’s late, but these have to be done tonight. You have plans? Well, I guess you’ll have to cancel them.”

Tuesday is your best friend. You grew up next door to each other, playing and wrestling in the yard until your mothers called you home for the night. As you both grew older, his obsession with you grew as well. However, when you’re an adult, life isn’t as simple as “having one best friend” and you having more friends means him having more competition.

“Y/N, are you free tonight? You don’t usually have anything going on this day of the week. You should come over to my place! We can watch a movie. You pick.”

Wednesday is a creep. Somehow, he’s always there. It doesn’t matter where you go, the grocery store, work, your friend’s house, somehow you’ll always bump into him. You suspect he’s taking photos of you, but you have absolutely no proof. You try to be more careful, not go out at night or be alone, just in case. It doesn’t matter though, eventually you’ll end up in his basement anyway.

“Camera? What camera? I was just taking a walk, just like you. If I did have one though, I bet you would make a great model.”

Thursday is your quiet classmate. You don’t even know she exists, really. The kind of girl that blends into the background. You think you gave her a pen once, maybe? Nothing that really sticks out in your head. It makes it all the more confusing when you start receiving threatening notes. Who on earth would send these? You certainly couldn’t remember doing anything in particular to deserve them.

“Thank you for the tissue, I really really appreciate it. Am I new? I’ve been in your class since we were kids…”

Friday is a playboy. He’s the kind of guy that spots you across the bar and makes his move. Your immediate disinterest shatters his massive ego, sending his head into a whirl. He always gets what he wants, how could this have happened? It’s not long until he’s trying to win your affection every night, buying you drinks and hitting you with his funniest jokes. There’s nothing he wants more than what he can’t have. If all his charm still doesn’t work, well, maybe it’s time he takes what he wants.

“Funny running into you here again, haha. Can I buy you a drink to make up for last time? I promise, no games this time, but only if you promise not to throw it in my face again.”

Saturday is your boyfriend. He’s the full package, strong, kind, intelligent. Sure, he’s a little possessive, but that’s normal, right? After all, he’s the basically the perfect man, showering you in gifts at every opportunity and leaping to do things for you. Before you know it, you’ll depend on him for almost everything. Exactly how he wanted it.

“I think you should quit your job, Y/N, all it does is cause you stress. It’s such a long commute, I hate waiting for you to come home. Plus, I make plenty enough money. Let me take care of you!”

Sunday is your neighbor. You smile warmly at each other in passing, sometimes he even shovels your driveway for you after a heavy snow or takes in your garbage can so you don’t have to walk it all the way up the driveway. In exchange, you’ll make him cookies or gift him vegetables from your garden, which he always appreciates. When he sets up his new security cameras, you can’t help but notice how a few of them are angled directly at your windows.

“Hey, Y/N! I picked up your mail for you. I hope you don’t mind, but I threw out all the junk. Oh, some hot chocolate as thanks? Well, I couldn’t say no to that.”

[lieutenantfloyd]

Rainbow Cereal and Morning Confessions - Cyclone x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Over breakfast, you mention something that you noticed during the previous night, only for Beau to confess something that's been weighing heavily on his mind.

Warnings: Domestic fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of kids/pregnancy, Beau had a bad childhood and is bad with emotions but he's secretly a hopeless romantic.

Authors Note: This was originally a very different fic written with my OC in mind, but I loved this idea so much I couldn't help but rewrite it to post here! Based on some headcanons I posted in January.

Read on AO3

“You talk in your sleep.” You say between mouthfuls of colorful fruity cereal. 

He eyes you sharply over his newspaper and takes a long swig off steaming black coffee. 

“No, I don’t.” He answers dryly. 

You twirl your spoon and give him a toothy grin. “Yeah, you do.” 

He sends you an eye roll before pushing his plate away and returning to his daily reading. 

Several minutes pass by without another word, but the silence between you is anything but awkward—It somehow never is.

 “What exactly do I talk about?” He asks in a low voice, and it takes all you have not to jump up and kiss him then and there. 

“National secrets, mostly.” You deadpan before quickly shoveling another spoonful of cereal into your mouth in a poorly planned attempt to stop your laughter. 

His eyebrows fly up so fast that you nearly choke. He leans across the table, using thick fingers to wipe away a stray drop of milk that escaped your mouth before leaning back into his previous position and waiting on you to regain your composure. 

“For real though, It was mostly gibberish with the occasional mention of pancakes.” You say nodding towards his plate. 

He sends you an annoyingly soft smile as a bit of color returns to his face. 

Your mind runs over his sleeping mumbles of the previous night, and you make a connection between his somniloquy and the handwritten notes you’d seen on his desk. 

“You never told me you speak French.” 

His handsome features shift into a look you’ve never seen before, and you feel his eyes scrutinize yours as if he’s deeply considering something. 

“Cajun French. It’s what my parents spoke.”

You nod softly, feeling suddenly awkward as you pick up on the unusual tone laced through his deep voice.

In the years between your first meeting and now, you have asked countless people—all of various rank and branch, along with a few civilians—about him. Your inquiries had always turned up the same. Nothing. No wife, no kids, and no known background prior to joining the Navy. He didn’t even have any social media to stalk. Aside from these intimate moments only you share with him, he’s a complete mystery. Practically a ghost.

“Were you and your parents close?” You ask softly.

“No.” He says. The finality feels sharp, but his tone falls flat. His voice feels nearly foreign to your ears.

His eyes fall to yours again, only this time they’re a confusing mix of vulnerable and guarded. You know instantly that something happened—something bad—and you choose not to push the topic any further.

You look down at your bowl, stirring the now soggy cereal around the colorful milk. He always chastises you for eating it, but it’s no different than how you nag at him for surviving off of coffee and pent up anger—a simmering rage so intertwined with him that you’ve often wondered where it stems from. Still seated in front of you, he’s staring off into space. You’re too afraid to ask yourself that question now.

“Do you want kids?” He asks suddenly. “With me, I mean.”

You nearly let out a playful—who else do you think I’d let knock me up?—but he still has that far-away look on his face, so you pause. Swallowing air as you gather your thoughts. 

“I… don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it.” You answer honestly, and he nods. 

“I hadn’t thought about it either. Not until you.” He confesses. 

“Having you in my life will always be the most important thing, but I realized that I’d probably like to be a dad.” He says. “And after I realized that, I also realized that I didn’t have anything from my own childhood to pass on to them.” 

You nod, rendered breathless by the conversation. God, he’d be a good dad. 

“Both my parents were Cajun. I remember that my mother was devoutly Catholic, and she raised me to speak French in a time when that just wasn’t what you did.” He pauses, only to resume after taking a deep breath. “I know now that they were complicated people. I choose not to think about them anymore.” He says in a voice so soft you nearly wonder if your mind made it up.

You nod along, giving him space to speak whatever is on his mind. You don’t let yourself question, aloud or otherwise, why he doesn’t speak of his father. 

“That was a long time ago—and a lot of the language is lost on me now—but I wanted something…positive…to pass on if I ever had a kid.” He confesses. 

You give him a soft smile before taking his hand across the table. 

“You’ve clearly thought a lot about this, and while I haven’t yet, I will.” You say. 

The conversation has taken such an intense turn that you felt shaky as you rose from your seat to clean up the breakfast dishes. 

You fall into a lull of comfortable normalcy, though the bits of his history he revealed hang heavy in your mind as you load the dishwasher. 

“Is there anything in particular you want to pass on? Anything I should learn…just in case?” You ask gently as you wipe your hands dry. It was a simple, genuine question, though by the gentle but shocked look on his face, you might as well have gotten on one knee and asked for his hand in marriage.

“I’ll think about it,” he says with the slightest teasing tone. 

You smile, happy to know nothing is weighing too heavy on him, and things are back to business as usual once again. 

“There’s a lot I want to tell you and more that I should, but..”

“Hey,” you say calmly “there’s no pressure. If you want to wax poetic about your entire life story or you never want to speak about it again, it’s fine. Childhoods are weird, and what matters is who you become after it all.”

He settles back into the chair, staring at you with nothing my pure adoration. Still, something has his shoulders tense, and something tells you that it’s the same thing that has words lying on the tip of your tongue.

“You’re a good man, Beau. And you’d make an amazing father.”

He rises to his seat, folds his newspaper—left over right, top over bottom, always—and drops it on the table. Cherry oak. Pretty, solid wood.

He crosses the short distance between you and kisses your head like the good man and partner he is. Without another word, he drops back into his seat and assumes his previous position, though the tension he always holds in his shoulders gives way just a bit. Sunlight has barely begun to stream in through the large kitchen windows, casting the table you are both seated at in a fresh, golden glow. A comfortable silence stretches between you as you finish the last few bites of your breakfast. He’s leaning back in his chair, legs crossed, though his left hand lays casually against the table. As the minutes pass, your hand absentmindedly brushes against his. He glances up at you over his paper, his eyes filled with warmth as a hint of a smile plays on his lips. 

“I know you hate getting up this early, but I like being able to spend my mornings with you,” he says as he encircles your hand with his own, brushing the pads of his fingertips over your knuckles.  You look up at him, your swelling as his words sink in. Aside from the daily ‘I love you’ s, Beau isn’t someone who ever verbalizes his emotions. Though he has never once held back from showing you just how much he cares. 

“Me too,” you reply. Your hand squeezes his gently, a small gesture that confirms you recognize the gravity of his admission.

The smell of his black coffee lingers in the air as you hear the world outside begin to wake up. You sit happily in each other's presence for several moments longer. The world outside the window feels far away and almost meaningless compared to the cozy safe haven of his kitchen.

Suddenly, you feel his shift and reluctantly pull his hand from yours. You glance briefly at the clock, laughing as the numbers confirm that he has only minutes before he needs to leave for work. He rinses his mug and sets it on a tea towel, leaving it to dry. He swipes his bag off the counter and leans in for a full, proper kiss this time. You smile up at him as he pulls away, knowing that no matter what his day ahead holds, the moments you shared together over breakfast will tide him over until he can come back home to you.

taglist: @marchingicenotes7 @bayisdying @princessofglitterland @bella-law @callsignaries @oliviah-25 @luckyladycreator2 @shakira-sasha @xoxabs88xox @alexxavicry @madamemelancholysstuff @paola-carter @barbiewritesstuff @dozcan123 @withakindheartx @nyx2021 @teti-menchon0604 @kmc1989

[bokutooooo]

Dream Ride

warnings: strong language! flirting? age gap!! (LEGAL)

"Hey Neela, who's this red neck?" I laugh and Neela rolls her eyes. "This is Sean he just moved here try to be nice." "Hey nice to meet you y/n" he puts out his hand "Hey, have you showed him around yet?". "Yeah I showed him around a bit, you coming tonight?" "I think so my car finally ready, i'm so excited to show it off."

Neela and I are getting ready at my house. "Soooo going to make a move yet? I mean you guys eye fuck each other all the timeeee, you've had a crush on him for years." I laugh "He's turning thirty In like 3 years" "so what? I think you should make a move, It's likely he feels the same". It's true me and Han do flirt a lot but it never went anywhere, plus he is way older than me. "yeah yeah, just keep getting ready missy"..

We pull into the the race centre In my newly improved Nissan Skyline GT-R, of course it isn't just a boring plain car It's pink and white with a glossy finish don't even get me started on the interior. "this car Is so hot, I love it" I smile, proud of what I did "I know right! it's so perfect". I park In a spot near Twinkie's Hulk themed car, makes me grin every time I see it. Neela's already talking to Sean as I'm speaking with Twinkie "I see you're already best friends with red neck huh?" "yeah, seems chill, thought maybe he'd like to come with me tonight. He's seems really into cars." I look over my shoulder at Neela and Sean "You know DK's going to get mad right? Just look, already glaring at him." twinkie looks over, DK already on the move, eyes widen he's quick to rush over. I'm quick to follow behind him "Hey hey hey DK how's going I see you met Sean" I look over at Neela who looks a bit worried. Neela and DK have been dating? for awhile, I mean I don't know if I'd call it dating but best friends with benefits? DK has always been possessive over Neela but sometimes it's a bit much. "Who's this gaijin?!" Neela steps In front but Twinkie is quick to speak up "DK he's here with us, we don't want any problems just here to race. "really? can he drift." I swallow, Sean is probably so confused. "I can race, wanna race?" Twinkie and I look at each other wondering if we just heard the same thing. Now don't get me wrong DK doesn't scare me just I know damn well he's an amazing racer and going up against him Is kind of dumb, especially If you're Sean and have never seen DK race before. DK chuckles "alright gaijin sure, but uh whatcha gonna race with? that?" he looks over at the Hulk car. "He can use mine, see what the kid's got."

I recognize that voice so fast I don't even need to turn around to see who it is. "Really Han? gonna let this kid race with your car? .. alright I won't stop you, I can add it to my collection." he smirks he knows he'll win.

Me and Neela are listening to Twinkie lecture Sean about his stupid decision "Do you even know what DK stands for?" Twinkie crosses his arms waiting for a reply. "No? Donkey Kong?" I laugh and shake my head "It means DRIFT KING Sean, basically Twinkie's telling you that you're going to get you're ass kicked." I smile and watch Sean's face "Maybe I'll win? you never know" "the chances of you winning red neck are slim to none, than you'll have to pay back Han". I lean back against my car, "What about me?" I turn to see Han shoving his mouth full with chips. I smile seeing him shoveling food in his face he's always eating "just explaining what's going to happen after he loses" "hey have some faith in him, maybe he'll win".

"keyword Han. MAYBE, I just feel bad for you sucks you're gonna lose another car." He just laughs and looks at Sean "just try, you'll still owe me though."

"alright let's go! chop chop!!" Han hands his keys over to Sean to his 2006 Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution IX. "Han man this car is too nice for this."

Han shrugs "Y/n lets go up a level" Neela tugs at my arm "alright good luck Sean, see you at the finish line.. if you ever make it..." I giggle walking towards the elevator. "wait up!" twinkie and Han jogging towards us.

The elevator Is filled with the talking of Neela and Twinkie, the two of them stand close to the door while me and Han are In the back. I watch as Han leans down, "Hey y/n how have you been? it's been a minute since we last talk, missed you" he whispers it so Nel and Twinkie can't hear. "Just been working on Kai, finished her a couple days ago. I'll show you after if we go back to the garage." He's teasing me..I know he is, and I'm enjoying every second of it. "Sure, forgot you name them. I know you've been working on her for awhile, congrats." I smile and the doors open, we step out into the crowd of people. Music's blasting and people are shoving their tongues down each others throat, dancing/gridding. "Do you guys really think he'll win this" i ask looking at Neela and Han "probably not but why not give it a shot"

"Okay!! Let's get this started!!!" a girl steps up between the two cars who keep revving their engines while glaring at one another. "READY?" she looks at the two cars "SET.." the room goes silent for maybe 3 seconds. "GOO!!" and off! both cars race off around the building, twists and turns and all you can hear is screeching noise of the tires. There're quick to go up another level and people rush to get up there. "Come on!" Neela grabs my hand as we run.. or at least try to In our heels.

Once we reach upstairs everyone waits patiently to see who will reach the finish line first. And whoosh! DK stops perfectly, I sigh but already knew what the outcome would be. a minute later Sean screeches In and stops. People are cheering and surrounding DK as I walk towards the scratched up, dented car. Han, Twinkie and Neela are already talking to Sean "You own me a car red." Twinkie's laughing and Neela's talking with Sean. "So that didn't really go to plan huh?"

"Yeah guess not, but I'll just practice till I know for sure I can beat him" I just chuckle at his remark "Han, maybe you can teach him how to drift, a couple of lessons wouldn't hurt." Han turns to me and smirks "maybe you should baby" I glance at him, cheeks reddening at the nickname "why because I drift better than you?" I raise an eyebrow at him with a cocky grin on my face. "whatever you say"

"I wish you'd just race me already! I've been waiting so long" I groan, he smiles "maybe later" he shrugs "you always say thattt!" walking to his car "meet me at the garage, think there's a party going on." I turn back to Sean Twinkie and Neela.

"you guys up for it?"

-----------

Might make another part^!

[fullofbees]

@pompeiisystem requested: #135 With Beel and a easily flustered mc? Please I'm begging I love the big himbo man with every inch of my heart lol

CW: Talking about masturbation

»»----------► GN!Reader

“Beel, look how many likes your devilgram photo got!” You cheer, showing the gluttonous demon your phone screen.

The post was meant to be inspirational, in a cheesy influencer way, at Asmo’s suggestion. The first showed Beelzebub before Fangol practice, sitting on a bench in the locker room. One hand is slipping on his cleats while the other shovels chips into his mouth. Swipe left, and you’ll find the after photo; Beel grinning in his sweat-drenched jersey, cheeks rosy from exercise, a towel slung across his shoulders. Nobody knows that he’s smiling because, behind the camera, you’re bribing him with food so he’ll stay still for the picture.

“We eatin’ good tonight, chat. Everyone say thank you Beel for the meal?” He reads aloud, head tilted in confusion.

Your eyes widen as you look back to the screen, noticing the top comment under the post. The replies are filled with equally thirsty comments and very suggestive emojis.

The heat of embarrassment starts at the tip of your ears, making its way down your face and neck. Of course, you agree wholeheartedly with the commenters. Beelzebub has no business being as attractive as he is; solid muscle that could hold you like it was nothing, large hands that are used to stuffing-

The demon interrupts your runaway thoughts, “Wait, what does that one say?” He points to another comment with a crumb-riddled finger.

“Oh! Um,” you hum, willing your eyes to focus on the text, “New... masturbation material...”

When you look at the demon, he is already distracted by the TV - an ad for a local restaurant. He doesn’t seem bothered at all.

“Sorry, are these not... weird to you?”

“Not really,” he says as he opens his next snack, “Everyone needs something to fantasize about.”

Don’t remind me. Too many nights have you spent alone in your bed, hand between your legs, fantasizing about the demon just down the hall from you. Would he be fast and rough, or would he take his time? Would he savor you like a delicacy, or would he devour you whole in his hunger? Why did the image of bruises in the shape of his bite excite you so damn much?

“I suppose you’re right,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. This is not a conversation you ever imagined having, nor did you expect Beel to be so nonchalant about it. Compared to your flustered state - if this were one of Levi’s manga, then blood would be dripping out of your nose right now - Beel is almost statuesque in his composure.

“I’ll be honest: I get off to the thought of you.”

Scratch that; blood would be pouring.

You’d bury your face in your hands if it weren’t for the fact that you’re frozen in shock. Beel’s calm demeanor cracks slightly; a faint blush blossoms on his face as he fidgets, one hand nervously clutching the other’s wrist.

Lips part to break the awkward silence, but your mind is blank, and any words mustered die in your throat. Excitement, lust, and anxiety overwhelm you in waves. The crash comes when your phone clatters to the floor, having slipped from your increasingly sweaty grip.

Both of you react, reaching for the device at your feet. Your fingers brush together, and you must bite your lip to keep yourself in check.

Beel doesn’t move, eyes fixed on the sight of his hand easily dwarfing yours. It isn’t until you clear your throat that he returns to wringing his wrist in worry.

Neither of you speak, yet neither of you leave. You begin to mirror Beel, fingers nervously picking at loose threads hanging from your sleeves. It takes a moment for your heart to settle, for your sinful curiosity to outweigh your apprehension.

Your voice is quiet, but not hesitant when you ask, “What do you think I taste like?”

Beel’s stomach roars in its familiar hunger.

“Will you let me find out?”

•••✦ ❤ ✦••• Submit A Request | Read on AO3 •••✦ ❤ ✦•••

A/N: Sorry there's no actual smut TvT but I love flirty dialogue that allows your mind to wander ;3

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

wait fuck ok i’m back to being sad about it now

like the thing is that ed doesn’t really hang out with anyone but stede in season one, not really. and whenever he is talking to other ppl on the crew, stede is right there. the only exception to this is in episode 8 when jack brings the party energy and everyone is getting drunk and rowdy together specifically as part of jack’s efforts to exclude stede.

and as a fandom we always make jokes and theorize about what the relationship between ed and stede must look like from the outside, if they were all placing bets for when they’d finally hook up or if they had zero belief in stede’s ability to pull THEE blackbeard

but now i’m thinking about the crew’s perception of Ed Himself. of the crew’s perceptions of The Legendary Blackbeard and how that must’ve changed over the course of the first season. because when they first meet him they’re all impressed and starstruck bc yeah, duh, this is Pirate Beyoncé we’re talking about. they’re also in varying degrees “worried he’s gonna kill them.”

but they quickly see that the real pirate beyonce isn’t all leather and murder and head made of smoke. blackbeard swaps clothes with their cringefail (derogatory) boss for fun. he dresses up and goes to a fancy party just because he wants to—he’s not even trying to get anything out of it, doesn’t have an angle the way frenchie does, he genuinely just wants to go to a very un-Blackbeardy party and have fun. he tells them scary stories. he shows them some of his trade blackbeard secrets. he hypes them all up after their first fuckery (and i will never get over how cute that is exchange is, “scared the pants off me” and “i thought blackbeard didn’t feel fear” and “and i didn’t, until tonight” and the crew’s genuine excitement and pride). he goes on a treasure hunt with their cringefail (affectionate, now) boss and lets him dig in the ground to get it out of his system. they learn that ed isn’t just a scary pirate, he also can be silly and goof off and enjoy things that aren’t exactly compatible’s with the Blackbeard Brand

and beyond just not adhering 24/7 to the Brand, they learn that ed—that blackbeard—is human. is fallible. they see his first plan to escape the spanish fail, and they get to participate in the backup plan that he and stede come up with. frenchie sees ed get hurt at the fancy party in a way that he completely understands. lucius realizes that ed is just as into his cringefail boss as his cringefail boss is into ed, and over the course of giving ed a shovel talk he maybe learns that The Legendary Blackbeard might actually be nervous about a boy liking him back.

and none of this—NONE of this—makes the crew lose any respect for him. even pete never has a moment where his perception of his idol is shattered, where he’s disappointed that blackbeard isn’t all nine guns and zero mercy all the time. instead, pete expands his idea of what The Ideal Pirate (the ideal MAN) looks like.

i think by the time jack rolls around, ed is no longer on that Pirate Beyoncé pedestal to them. he’s still on a pedestal, a bit, but instead of seeing ed as this untouchable badass legend, they see him as like. the coolest guy on the ship. still a badass, still somebody they all respect and admire, but someone they can hang out with. someone they really want to hang out with. they want to impress ed because they want him to like them, they want to be his friend. and yeah, it’s played as a “your father and i are getting a divorce but we still love you very much” joke, but they really are so sad when ed leaves with jack.

and ed showing up with no beard and no stede, ed hiding in his cabin for. a day? multiple days? ed singing a song about his feelings. ed saying he no longer wants to go by blackbeard.

the crew is confused, but they’re on board. they don’t laugh at him for his (bad) singing, they don’t think less of him now that he’s sans iconic beard. ed, to them, is still The Coolest Guy On The Ship, and they want to be his friend. they’re excited to be his friend.

they want to put on a talent show.

and ed, right after getting stabbed in the back by jack and izzy, and then stede, and then izzy again—ed, who was so affected by the jeers of the rich fuckers at that fancy party, who grew up in a culture that doesn’t allow for friendship, a culture of everyone in various stages of fucking each other over—can’t see that. he’s got fresh heartbreak and fresh betrayal that are compounding on years of trauma and he hears them all chanting his name and he can’t trust this crew. he couldn’t trust his first mate, and he couldn’t trust his old shipmate, and he couldn’t trust stede. he cannot, cannot risk vulnerability with the crew. not again.

(and like, cmon, who is ed even kidding? he’s not made for things like softness and friendship and genuine camaraderie. trying to be anything other than blackbeard is like a wolf trying to fit in a sheep’s clothing, but the clothing is too small and everyone can see right through him and they’re all laughing and laughing and he’s the only one who can’t see what a joke he is. ed’s not an idiot, he knows there’s no way the crew is up their chanting his name and asking for another song because they like him. they just want the great clown pagliacci to come out and make them laugh.

so sure, ed’ll give them a show. they think ed’s funny? well he’s about to be fucking hilarious.)

EDIT: those of y’all seeing this in the ofmd tags are missing the additions where it gets even sadder

[cautotelic]

Chapter 5: Been Like This

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis: When you get taken away from your home land and thrown into the palace of the infamous warlord, will things be as bad as they first seemed?

CW: SMUT (what we've all been waiting for), kinda fluff, Ambessa being downright downbad, yes the title is from that Doja Cat song 🤨

A/N: enough with the sadness, let the tension end. please leave more replies/comments I LOVE reading them and knowing y’all enjoy the story:))

The next few days go by painstakingly slow. I help the physicians with tending to the injured warriors. I’m back to avoiding Ambessa, still somewhat upset with her. Whenever I think about her I’m drawn between being so frustratingly angry at her and just wanting to thank the fact she’s, in her words, alive and well.

Whenever I get the chance during the day I’ll go into my room and try to get a bit of sleep before leaving for the night, knowing that Ambessa has been residing in my room. Maybe she’s hoping that I’ll come back at the same time she's there, but I doubt that.

Currently I’m outside of the estate collecting snow in a bucket to take inside for the physicians. Being in my own thoughts I don’t hear the crunching of snow beneath boots coming from behind me. 

“You should really wear a coat out here, little lady.”

I smile. “You want to give me a hand or are you just going to stand there and look pretty?”

The crunch of snow grows closer before Rictus’s big, burly form comes into view. He settles himself behind me and pulls something out of his cape, a blanket. 

I hold my hand up. He continues to unfold it. “The General would have my head if I let you get frostbite out here.”

“Why does she bother?” I mumble as I feel the weight of the blanket being placed around my shoulders. I will admit that I am thankful for the blanket.

Rictus hums as he takes the bucket out of my hands and begins shoveling in the snow with his own gloved hands. “She has a weird way of showing it, but she really does care about you. It’s the reason she brought you here,” he admits.

My brows furrowed in confusion but Rictus continued. “She and your father had a meeting negotiating trade deals and land disputes, the regular diplomatic conversations,” he says and I nod. “I remember you standing in the corner of your fathers office, just a tiny little thing, barely noticed you were there. But when we got back on the airship, you were all she could talk about.”

“She sent your father a letter asking if he would trade you for extra trading goods. He refused and she threatened him with war.” The bucket of snow is full so Rictus stands, I copy his movements as we start to make our way back to the estate. “Of course she knew of your power and wanted you to train her soldiers, but she also saw how miserable you looked, like a bird trapped in a cage. Her stronger feelings for you only transpired after you arrived.”

We step back into the estate and hand the bucket of snow to the physician standing there. I watch her leave before turning to Rictus. “Why are you telling me this?”

“So you understand why I have to do what I’m about to do next,” he utters, a hint of guilt showing in his expression.

“What-“

In an instant I’m scooped up and thrown over his shoulder as he begins walking down the hallway. A small gasp comes out as I am disoriented. “Rictus put me down. Where are you taking me?” I protest.

My struggling does nothing to sway him into putting me down. “The General hasn’t slept for a week because of you and personally, I don’t enjoy being yelled at,” he grunts as he readjusts me on my shoulder.

The realization hits me. He’s taking me to Ambessa. I start hitting his back. “Rictus, put me down now. I don’t want to see her,” I declare.

I protest the whole way until we walk into a room lined with bookshelves. He sets me down on my feet and I turn around to face Ambessa who is sitting at her desk. The surprise on her face tells me that all this was all by Rictus’s own doing. 

“General,” Rictus nods towards Ambessa before walking out of the room, leaving us together.

The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I stand awkwardly in the center of her study as I shift from foot to foot. Her study is just as warm and inviting as her bedroom. Throw blankets adorn the couch sat in front of the fireplace and soft rugs cover the floors.

I look up at Ambessa and she isn’t looking at me but I can tell she’s tired.

“I don’t know why he brought you here, I told him, and everyone else for that fact, not to bother you,” she states coldly as she writes something down in the ledger on the desk.

Just hearing her talk and being in her general vicinity has all my anger resurfacing. I let out a chuckle. “You’re a real piece of work, you know?” I accuse as I stalk towards her desk.

She stops writing, folds her arms, and leans back in her seat, an amused expression playing on her face. “Oh you're in no position to talk about being a piece of work, but please, do tell.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, growing irritated. “You are so incredibly maddening. I cannot fathom how anyone gets anything done around here with you.” When I get close enough I trail my hand along the edge of her desk. “For the past month I spent the whole time believing you were dead, hoping you weren’t so I could do it myself. But now…” I sigh as I look at her, looking for answers to the ache I feel deep in my bones. “I can’t even find the strength to stay mad at you.”

Our eyes lock and I wonder if there is just as much emotion in my eyes as there are in hers. I draw closer to her slowly, unsure and uncertain. Reaching out I touch her cheek with the backs of my fingers softly. 

She leans into the small touch before grabbing my hand and pressing kisses to my palm. “Forgive me… please.”

My body leans towards her hesitantly, eyes darting between her lips and her eyes. I gently press my lips to hers, my own silent apology and many words unspoken. I feel her smile into the kiss as she lets me lead. My own repressed desires surface as I move to press myself closer to her. Ambessa stands from her desk chair, breaking our kiss as her hands come under my thighs and lift me onto the cool wood of her desk. My hands move on their own accord touching any part of her that I can. She chuckles at my eagerness before lifting her shirt off, her bindings going with it. I stare at her for a good second admiring her as her hands go to the bottom hem of my shirt. She looks at me, waiting for me to push her away, to close myself off again.

I don’t.

I mutter a soft ‘yes’ and she takes my shirt off. Unlike our kiss in the library, her fingers find my skin, going over the scars on my chest and torso. Under her observant gaze I feel self conscious and I curl in on myself.

Ambessa notices this and makes a noice of displeasure. Her head dips back down and her lips brush against the shell on my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. “Do you know how turned on you make me, sweetheart? Hm.” She hums as she nuzzles her nose into the crook of my neck. I shake my head and she groans. “Too much. I get all hot and bothered when you're fully dressed, so don’t worry about this,” she says, her hands trailing up my sides. “You're perfect.”

Her lips find mine again as she lifts me off the desk and walks us over to the big couch in her study. Laying me down on the couch she makes quick work of my pants as well as her own. She leans down and sucks on the skin of my neck, leaving dark marks that will stay. Her hand travels down, down until it touches my waiting core. She teases, circling her fingers around my clit. I let out a frustrated whine and she chuckles.

“So impatient,” she hums, kissing my ear.

She’s merciful and slowly enters her fingers. Her pace starts out slow and deliberate, sinking them in before, dragging them almost all the way out, before doing it over again. I sigh, pleased that she’s finally touching me but wanting her to speed up. 

My hands come around to her back, grabbing as much of her as I can before pushing her into me. I turn my head to it’s right by her ear. “I know you love me, but I want you to fuck me like you hate me,” I nearly demand.

She chuckles into my skin. “I would be careful what you ask for, little one,” she purrs as she bites down onto the space between my neck and shoulder. She speeds up the thrusts of her hand as she curls her fingers up and brushes that spot inside me. I gasp. She mimics my face and sound. “There,” she says breathily. “Is that what you wanted? Hm. To be treated like this, like a toy for me to use?”

I let out a strangled moan into her ear. My noises only egg her on as she fucks me. My nails dig into her back. 

“So fucking wet, your basically swallowing my fingers. You dirty, dirty girl,” she says as she leans away from me looking down at my sopping cunt. 

She uses the thumb of the same hand to gently circle my clit, light and slow motions. She watches her own fingers disappear inside me, she damn near moans at the sight. I quickly shut my legs closed at the sensation, feeling overwhelmed. She roughly pushes them back open as I feel her go deeper.

“Fuck…” I sigh. It’s all too much, her, my body. I reach my hand down to grab at her wrist. For what exactly, I’m not sure, but the coil in my stomach is winding tighter and tighter, I feel like I might burst.

Ambessa looks down at me with a dark expression on her face as she grabs both my wrists in her free hand and holds them against my stomach, leaving me helpless as she tortures my body.

“Mm that’s much better, don’t you think, little one?” She chuckles as she bullies her fingers into me at an unforgiving pace.

The sounds leaving my mouth are absolutely, downright shameful. But I can’t find it in me to care right now. Moans and whines leave my lips but Ambessa swallows them in a kiss. 

“Please please ple-ah,” I jolt as she hits that spot. She takes notice and focuses on repeatedly hitting that spot as her circles on my clit fasten.

The coil begins to fray, the pressure too much. “A-ambessa stop I-“ I’m cut off by my own moan.

She looks down at me and hums. “Are you close? Going to make a mess for me, pretty girl?” She coos.

I struggle against her hold trying to get away from her and the feeling in my stomach as my breathing grows ragged. I cry out as my orgasm washes over me, my back arched, Ambessa smiles as she fucks me through it.

When it’s finished I close my eyes and regain my breathing. I stay like that for a while, my hands coming to cover my face.

Before I can even open my eyes again I’m being flipped onto my stomach, my chest being pushed into the couch, ass up. I yelp as I crane my head to look behind me. Ambessa leans over my body so that her head is right beside mine, her bigger frame covering mine. I feel something prod at my backside. I go to look and she turns my head to look at her. She trails kisses along my shoulder blade.

“That first one was for your pleasure,” she says, almost proudly. “These ones are for mine.” 

“What are you- oh my god,” I moan as I feel her strap enter me. When the fuck did she put that on?

My mouth forms an ‘O’ as she sinks deeper into me, inch by inch. I dig my fingers into the couch to keep me grounded. Ambessa leans over and kisses my cheek, laughing softly. 

“I won’t be as kind.”

“Sadist much?” I spit out, my voice coming off weaker than I expected.

A loud smack sounds through the room and I jolt forward, gasping at the sting. Ambessa’s hand rubs over the spot. “I do hate disobedience, and you're far overdue for a lesson,” she leans down to my ear. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

Her weight lifts off me. “If it’s too much, let me know.” As soon as I nod her hips snap forward. A short scream leaves my throat at the action. 

Her pace is so deliberately slow it makes me want to cry. I groan into the couch. I move my hips in sync with her, fucking myself back on her. Her hand comes and grip my hips, halting my movements and I whine.

“You want me to go faster?” She asks, and I nod desperately. “Well who am I to deny you that?” There’s a hint of something in her voice but I couldn’t care less as she does indeed pick up the pace.

I’m a moaning mess as she does. I’m muttering curses and small ‘thank you’s under my breath as I approach my climax faster this time. 

This time when I finish, Ambessa doesn’t stop. I whimper, overstimulated. “T-too much- Ambessa.”

She chuckles behind me as she grunts, speeding up her pace. “This is your lesson for being so damn mouthy. I told you that this wasn’t for your pleasure, it’s for mine. So fucking take it or do you want me to stop?” She slows to a complete stop before pulling out. She waits a solid few minutes waiting for my growing orgasm to subside.

I cry out at the loss of stimulation. “You're such an asshole,” I seethe.

She shrugs before pressing back into me at a brutal pace. “So damn stubborn,” she says.

Ambessa has me a moaning mess in less than a few minutes. She kisses down my back, over my scars. “So fucking pretty. You like this huh? You like me being mean to you.” All I can do is nod and mumble incoherently at her words.

“What happened to that attitude that you had earlier? Am I fucking you too good for you to act out now?” She teases. 

Although she is acting unaffected, her small moans and sighs are telling me she is getting off from this, from me.

I’m getting closer to my 3rd orgasm and her thrusts are growing erratic and inconsistent. “Fuck…” she groans from behind me and I can tell she’s close too. She speeds up and a guttural moan leaves my lips as my body shakes.

She keeps thrusting her hips forward, chasing her own release. I tap her hand on my hip. “Stop Ambessa.”

She quickly pulls out of me and flips me around, concern written on her face. Her hand comes to cradle my cheek. “What’s the matter? Did I-“

I flip her over so she’s on her back before climbing on top of her, sinking down onto her strap. I moan at the feeling, feeling it go deeper than in the other position. Ambessa looks up at me from her spot below me. “Darling you don’t have to-“

“Shut up,” I sigh as I begin to move. She moans at the sight and the friction on her own cunt. I bounce up and down on her strap, moans leaving my lips as I look down at Ambessa watching her face contorted in pleasure. 

I fold over and suck marks into her neck as soft sighs and moans leave her lips. Her body is growing restless and I know she’s close. 

She leans into me, worry etched into her brows. “You need to finish first. I can’t-“

“You can and you will. You better fucking finish, Ambessa I swear to god,” I chuckle as a breathy moan leaves my lips. 

I pick up my pace, my breast moving in time with my bounces. I reach down and roll her nipple between my fingers earning a small sigh from her. 

Her face should be casted in a painting for my eyes only. Her eyes watch the strap as it goes in and out of me. Her moans growing more and more desperate.

“Are you going to come for me, General? Gonna get off to me using you to pleasure myself?”

At my words her arms reach up to me as she pulls me to her chest. She props her feet up, heels digging into the couch as she thrusts up into me. 

“Oh my god- fuck fuck fuck.” I say into her skin. She’s shuddering at this point. “I’m gonna come- fuck.”

My orgasm wracks through my body, our combined moans filling the room. My body goes limp and we stay like this, me on top of her, as we both catch our breath. I raise my head and peck a kiss on her lips.

She moves under me, sliding her strap out of me, I hiss. She chuckles as she lifts me and sets me down to stand. I wobble a little on my feet but her arm is there to steady me. She wraps one of the blankets on the couch around me before wrapping one around herself and then scooping me up.

We walk out of her study and into the hallway and I’m met with Rictus standing on the other end of the dead end hallway. My face reddens as we approach where he is standing against the wall. 

“Why is he down here, Ambessa?” I ask, embarrassed.

She shrugs. “Making sure no one bothered us,” she says nonchalantly.

Someone needs to give him a pay raise. 

We pass by him and he gives a curt nod to Ambessa before looking down at me wrapped in the blanket. 

“Good talk?” He questions with a mischievous, barely there smile.

“Good talk,” I affirm as Ambessa keeps walking.

She takes me to her room and we shower to wash the sex off of our bodies. I dote on her, washing her hair and body even though she insists she can do it herself. She dresses me in her clothes before laying us down in her bed. I lay my head in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. Her hand lazily runs up and down my back, I no longer flinch at her touch as it lulls me to sleep.

For the first time in years I get a full night's sleep.

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part four)

(part one)(part two)(part three)

Eddie wakes from a thankfully dreamless sleep, his head on his pillow now, which is somehow far less comfortable than Steve’s solid chest. Speaking of… Eddie looks around; Steve isn’t there at all anymore, and Eddie is alone. He’s disappointed, though not entirely surprised, that Harrington’s left him again despite his promises. 

In fact, he’s honestly more surprised when less than two minutes into his wallowing in the empty room, the door is pushed open by none other than Steve Harrington carrying two trays of food, one balanced on each hand like a goddamn waiter. It’s kind of adorable, actually, Eddie thinks, and that thought surprises him a little too. 

“Oh, you’re awake! Good morning.” Steve sets one of the trays on Eddie’s lap. His smile is bright, though there’s a slight, uncertain wobble to it. “Shitty hospital food and shitty hospital TV, right?” 

“Right.” Eddie’s face breaks into a grin, something light unfurling in his chest. He glances at the plate of gross food on his lap then back up at Steve, and he admits, “You know, for a second there I thought you’d left again.” 

Steve shakes his head as he settles into the chair beside the bed with his own tray. “I promised you I’d hang out today. I’m a man of my word.”

“Good.” Eddie smiles and grabs a remote off the bedside table, turning on the TV. “Now for our mealtime entertainment, let’s see what’s on the shitty TV today.”

The television starts blaring some old black-and-white rerun of I Love Lucy. Eddie’s immediately about to change the channel, but then he notices the way Steve’s eyes have lit up. “Hey, that’s not shitty TV!” Steve says. “I used to watch this with my mom all the time when I was a kid.” 

Eddie snorts. “Of course you did.”  

Steve gives him an indignant look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” Eddie shakes his head evasively, shoveling a forkful of rubbery scrambled eggs into his mouth so he doesn’t have to say anything else. 

Steve just rolls his eyes, almost affectionately, like they’ve had conversations like this before. He chews on a flimsy piece of bacon and makes a face, nose scrunching up. “Ugh, you really weren’t kidding about the shitty food, though.” 

“Nope,” Eddie laughs, “I really wasn’t. Thanks for catering it though.” He swallows down another mouthful of food, and then adds with a little less levity, “And, uh, thanks for last night, too - for calming me down. Don’t think I’ve said that yet.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Steve gives a small smile, shrug, slight shake of his head, a tiny pinch between his brows like he doesn't quite get why Eddie even feels the need to thank him for that. “That's what I’m here for. I just hope I didn't cross any boundaries or anything, holding onto you like that.” 

Now it's Eddie's turn to give him a confused little smile and a head shake. “No, of course not. That was exactly what I needed.” He attempts to add some humor back into the conversation, jokingly quips, “Although, to be fair, I never did think that King Steve would ever be caught dead in a bed with The Freak.”

Steve had hazarded another bite of his breakfast, trying the eggs this time, only to choke on it at Eddie’s comment. He coughs, hits his fist against his chest, and hurriedly takes a sip from the water bottle on his tray. 

“Jesus.” Eddie tries not to take offense, assuming Steve’s reaction to be one of disgust at the double entendre. “That bad of a thought, huh?” 

Steve shakes his head and clears his throat, face flushed. “No, no, it’s not that, man. Food just went down the wrong pipe, is all.” 

“Uh huh…” 

“Seriously.” Steve gulps down some more water, quiet for a moment before adding, “You know I’m not King Steve anymore, right? Haven’t been for a while now, since even long before your memories end.” 

“Yeah, I know. You ditched Tommy H. and Carol your junior year, and then Nancy Wheeler dumped you and Billy Hargrove stole your crown and bashed your face in your senior year, I remember,” Eddie recalls. “But for the most part you were still well-known and well-liked, still this popular, pretty, rich boy jock all the girls still drooled over, so.” He shrugs. “Always figured ‘King’ still fit.” 

“Right…” Steve raises his eyebrows as Eddie lists off these events of his life, looking at him with a smirk of barely-hidden amusement. “I forgot you were obsessed with me.”  

Eddie’s jaw drops in exaggerated offense. “I was not obsessed with you.” 

“Were too,” Steve taunts.

“Was not.” 

“Were too.” 

“Was not.” Eddie chucks a piece of bacon at him. 

Steve gasps indignantly as the bacon slaps him in the face and tumbles onto his lap. “You child!” But he’s laughing, retaliates by flinging a forkful of eggs back at Eddie. 

The conversation devolves into a full-on food fight, shrieking and cackling as they pelt each other with flying bits of eggs and bacon. It turns out shitty hospital food serves far better as ammunition than it does as anything actually edible. 

A nurse chooses the exact wrong time to decide to come in and check on Eddie, walking into the room at just the right moment to be caught in the crossfire and hit with a stray chunk of egg. Both boys freeze. 

“Uh oh…” Eddie mutters under his breath. Just his luck - it’s not the young, nice nurse, Katie, who always laughs at his jokes, but Nurse Margaret, the old, mean one who he’s never once seen crack a smile. She flicks the egg bit off her shoulder, leveling them with a stern frown as she marches over. 

Eddie casts a furtive glance at Steve who looks back at him, lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh again, and Eddie feels mirth bubbling back up in his own chest too. He has to look away from Steve again before he loses it. 

He sucks his lips in, clamping them together between his teeth to hold in his laughter, and he stares up at Margaret with a thin-lipped, guilty, upside down smile as she chides them both for making a mess and scolds Eddie for exerting himself and risking reopening his wounds. Steve mumbles an apology and starts cleaning up the scattered bits of food strewn about the room while Margaret double checks that Eddie hasn’t, in fact, reopened his wounds or gotten worse in any way. Once the nurse is satisfied with both the state of the room and the state of Eddie, she whisks away what’s left of their food trays and stalks out of the room with one last disapproving look over her shoulder.

Then and only then does Eddie risk eye-contact with Steve again, and the two of them immediately burst back into laughter. Steve nearly doubles over with it, leaning against the trash can where he’d just been dusting off his hands. “Oh my god,” he chuckles out. “Her face when I hit her with that egg? I was so sure she was gonna kick me out.” 

“Nearly gave mean old Margaret an aneurysm, and that was just from hitting her shoulder,” Eddie snickers. “Imagine if you hit her in the eye or something.” 

Steve does his best impression of Margaret’s angry scowl and reproachful huff, and Eddie cackles. He laughs so hard his sides ache and his injuries hurt, wounds aggravated by the movement of his laughter, but he doesn’t care, the pain far too distant beneath the cushion of painkillers and positive emotion he currently feels so high on. 

“You’ve still got some egg in your hair,” Steve notices with another amused snort as he pushes himself away from the trash can and approaches Eddie’s bed again. He plucks the offending bit of food out of Eddie’s curls and smooths down the hair where it had been stuck. “There.” 

Steve’s fingertips brush ever so lightly against Eddie’s cheek when he fixes his hair. It sends a pleasant sort of shiver down Eddie’s spine, turning his laughter to breathless giggles just for a moment. “Thanks.”

Steve flicks the egg chunk into the trash before sinking back into the bedside chair with a soft sigh and a warm smile. “God, I missed this,” he says, “just laughing with you.” 

“Yeah.” Eddie returns the grin. For him, of course, this is the first time they’ve laughed together like this, but he has to admit he’s already rather fond of it. “Can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed that hard.”

Steve’s smile turns nostalgic, like he can remember the last time Eddie laughed like that, like he was there for it. “It’s a good look on you - laughter,” he says, so quietly Eddie almost feels like maybe it wasn’t meant for him to hear. And Eddie can’t help but think that laughter is a pretty good look on Steve too, all rosy cheeks and shining eyes.

“How did we become friends?” Eddie asks, before his previous thought can take any sort of root. 

The nostalgia in Steve’s expression only grows. “It was the beginning of June, start of summer, probably only a few weeks after your memories stop. I was working at the Scoops Ahoy in Starcourt, that new mall that had just opened, and you wandered in,” he says, looking at Eddie with a teasing glint to his eyes, “because you were obsessed with me-”

“Was not,” Eddie protests immediately.

“Were too,” Steve laughs. “Anyways, you saw me in my stupid little sailor uniform trying and very obviously failing to chat up a girl at the counter, and you came in just to laugh at me, actually.” 

“Okay, that does sound like me,” Eddie concedes with a grin. He probably walked in there just for the sailor costume alone, if he’s being honest with himself. That’s something he’d kill to see - just for a good laugh, of course. “Do you still have that uniform? It might, you know, jog my memory a little if you were to bring it in one day,” he suggests slyly. 

“You and that uniform, man,” Steve scoffs and shakes his head like this is something they’ve talked about many, many times before, enough for it to become a predictable sort of annoyance, a longsuffering inside joke. “No, I don’t still have it. Threw it out first chance I had, not to mention it got totally ruined when the- uh, when the mall burned down.” 

Eddie’s eyes go slightly wide. “The mall burned down? While you were there?” 

“Yeah- well, sort of,” Steve falters, a shadow falling over his expression, and he shakes his head again. “It’s kind of a long story, and not the one I’m telling right now.” 

“Right, yeah, shit.” Eddie waves his hand as if to erase everything he’d said before. “Forget I mentioned it.” He, more than anyone, understands not wanting to relive bad memories right now. “Continue the other story. How did we go from me making fun of you to us being besties?”

The shadow lifts as Steve returns to that memory. “Oh, yeah. I told you the show wasn’t free and that you needed to order something or leave. So you bought a milkshake, which I somehow managed to end up completely spilling all over the both of us when I tried to hand it to you. You were livid,” he chuckles, “thought I’d done it on purpose, even though I definitely hadn’t. I felt so bad I insisted on helping you clean up. You were icy about it, but you let me show you to the sink in the backroom and accepted the jacket I lent you so you wouldn’t have to walk around with ice cream stains on your shirt all day.” 

“That’s quite the meet-cute,” Eddie jokes. “Are you sure you’re describing our friendship and not some rom-com chick flick you watched last week?” 

“Nah, true story, honest. It wasn’t a rom-com,” Steve says, and though he smiles, there’s an odd sadness to it too. He shakes his head and continues, “Anyways, you clearly warmed up to me after that because you came back the next day to return the jacket and apologize for being a bit of a dick before, and then you gave me this whole ‘you’re actually a good dude’ speech and told me to give you a call if I ever wanted to split a joint or something. I took you up on it that same night; it had been a rough day at work and I figured why not, so I came over and we smoked and we talked and we got along like a house on fire - better than either of us expected, I think. And that was our thing, then, after that - smoking and talking. Sometimes weed, sometimes just cigarettes, and sometimes we just smoked and didn’t talk, and then sometimes we just talked and didn’t smoke; until eventually we started doing other things together too besides just talking and smoking, we were just hanging out. At that point we were friends, practically inseparable, and then we-” Steve stops himself, a shade of melancholy reentering his dim smile once more. “We only got closer from there.” 

“That sounds nice…” Eddie tries to remember it, really digs deep in his mind for any sort of spark of memory or recognition in Steve’s words, but it’s empty. It all just sounds like a story to him, doesn’t settle anywhere real. It’s a good story, sure, one he’d like to experience, one he aches to connect with, but a story nonetheless, only words, only fiction. “I wish I could remember that.” 

“Me too,” Steve says, and Eddie hates how sad he looks, hates even more that he’s the cause of it. 

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to make new memories, then!” Eddie declares with a theatrical amount of enthusiasm as he flashes Steve a bright grin, all in the hopes of chasing that sadness back off of his face. “Won’t we, my friend?” 

Success; Steve seems a little startled by Eddie’s sudden gusto, but he laughs and smiles, the real kind this time that shines in his eyes again. “Yeah, I guess we will.”

Eddie does his best to keep the conversation away from their past after that, not only in an attempt to keep the light in Steve’s expression but for his own sake too. It’s a strange thing to be reminded of the fact that he shares a history with someone and has no memory of it, to be around someone who seems to know everything about him while he feels as though they’ve only just met.

For the most part, hanging out with Steve is nice and fun and easy - there’s something so natural, familiar, about the way they talk, the way they banter, the way they sit together even in the silences. But sometimes Eddie will say something that makes a sadness flicker in Steve’s eyes again, or sometimes Steve will say something that makes Eddie wonder just what secrets this guy knows about him and his skin crawls with that old discomfited itch. They’re both quick with a joke, a redirection, whenever the other’s expression falters, though, like Steve is trying to make sure Eddie doesn’t feel uncomfortable just as much as Eddie is trying to make sure Steve doesn’t feel sad. 

Other visitors come in and out of Eddie’s room that day too: Dustin stops by with a portable cassette player and some newer heavy metal albums that came out during the period Eddie no longer remembers, which brings more than one source of entertainment as it also incurs Nurse Margaret’s wrath again when they listen to it too loud. Wayne drops in with some actually edible fast food for lunch and a deck of cards, playing a few rounds of a few games. Nurse Katie checks in on him to redress his wounds and she laughs at his stories of annoying Margaret. Even Steve has to leave a couple times, says he has errands to run or needs to pick up Robin from work, but he promises to be back each time and each time he is. 

Night has fallen now, and it’s just Eddie and Steve again, Steve sitting, as always, beside Eddie’s bed as they watch whatever cheesy old movie is playing on TV while Eddie fights off sleep. He fears it still; each wave of drowsiness that washes over him is met with a shiver in his heart that breathes ice into his veins and freezes him awake. 

After about Eddie’s hundredth attempt to suppress a yawn, Steve turns off the TV and looks at him. “Are you tired?” 

“No,” Eddie says, only for his lie to be almost immediately undermined by another traitorous yawn. “Alright, yeah, I am, but- I don’t want to sleep,” he admits. “I don’t want to dream.”

“Oh.” Steve’s gaze softens, sympathetic. For the first time unprompted, not waiting for a nightmare or for Eddie to ask like he always had before, Steve moves closer and takes Eddie’s hand. “I’ve got you, you know,” he says, the statement fierce in its sincerity. “It’ll be alright. I’ll fight off your nightmares with my bare hands if I have to.” 

Steve’s hand is warm against the chill in Eddie’s blood, the heat of his skin seeping in to thaw his fear. “I don’t think a nightmare is something you can fight,” Eddie says, cracking a smile, but looking at Steve now, he can almost believe it. 

There’s a new sort of spark in Steve’s eyes, protective, devoted, and it burns the way a fire in the hearth of a home burns, like something dangerous made safe just for him. Eddie suddenly doesn’t doubt, somehow, that Steve could fight off anything, even something as intangible as a nightmare, if it was threatening Eddie. With Steve here holding his hand, he somehow doesn’t doubt that not a single thing can hurt him. Not a single thing would even dare try. 

And not a single thing does. 

No nightmares make their way into Eddie’s mind that night, no bad memories stir in his subconscious. That night, instead, he dreams of Steve.

(part five!) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies. please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list)

[writingfromasgard]

Waldeinsamkeit pt 2[König]

[Masterlist] || Requests || More Konig || Part 1

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Synopsis: König and his forest decide to keep you.

König shudders as the trees of his forest swayed, telling him the sweet one with the tree babies had returned. He found you in another clearing that had been decimated by mankind, attempting to unearth a decaying stump with your meager strength and a metal shovel. He watches you struggle before making his presence known, snapping a dead twig between his fingers.

It's cute how it startles you, he thinks.

He approaches you, touching the stump which rapidly decays into fresh soil - roots and all. Your eyes look up at him with wonder. He crouches beside you, digging his claws into the soil to make way for the sapling you've grown for his forest.

"Thank you." You speak politely, planting a sickly looking sapling in the soil. "This one isn't doing well and I read that rotting wood can help plants thrive."

His claws carefully lift the leaves of the sapling, studying it for a moment. He yanks his hand back unexpectantly and growls, anger flooding him. Your body leans away from him, eyes wide with fear again.

"Poison." He hisses, ripping it out of the gown and tossing it aside.

"Poison?" Your lips curve into a frown. "I'm not trying to poison the forest."

His claws reach for your chin, dragging you to look at him. His eyes are boring into yours, trying to choose the correct words - he didn't make contact nearly enough to fully speak your language.

He settles on, "Not my tree."

"Not your tree.." Your brows furrow, gears turning behind your eyes as you try to understand. "It doesn't belong here."

König lets go of your chin, patting the top of your head like he'd seen other humans do. "Good."

You shift your basket, full of saplings in various states of growth. "Can you tell me which ones I shouldn't plant?"

He takes little time, tearing the invasive ones in half and tossing them over his shoulder. Your basket is still halfway full, pleasing him. He stops with the last one, holding up a tree from his forest beside it.

He shoves them in your face, hoping you see the difference in their leaves and color. You gently take one then the other, looking at both of them.

"Bad." He tapped the grotesque one - lighter color leaves, lighter stem.

König prowls the ground around you, keeping an eye on which saplings you're planting to ensure none of the poison tries to take root in his forest. Sunlight grows sparse between the canopy as you finish planting the last sapling.

He watches you brush the dirt off your hands, leaving dark smudges on your clothing. Your contented smile tells him you're done for the day as you pick up your basket. Your smaller limbs creak and pop as you stretch, ready for the walk back home. He wants you to stay.

His forest groans and shifts when you go to leave. It calls out to you, roots and branches alike trying to grasp at you. Your feet stumble over a root. His hands are quick to reach out, catching you before you can fall.

With his hands curled around your waist, purring with satisfaction when you're pressed tightly against him. "You can't leave."

"Why can't I? I've left before." You question, relaxing in his grip.

"Forest wants to keep you. I want to keep you." He nudges your cheek with his, making that same purring sound. "Our - K̵̼̍̓̀͝į̶̲̟̒͠n̴͒̒͊̚͜d̵͎̺̟̄ͅè̶̱͇̠̌ř̷̢̞̠̐̀͜͝ need you."

Confusion is evident in your features. Rather than wait for you to ask more questions, König lifts you, carefully placing you on his shoulder to easily carry you to his home deeper in the forest.

The path twists and turns so frequently that he doubts you will escape the forest before he finds you again. The trees along the path rustle with approval. He stops at a large tree with carvings in the wood before he sets you down.

"Home." He simply says, shoving open the door.

The air is filled with the scent of earth and moss inside. Your nervous glances settle soon into wonderment. He lets you walk around, exploring the small inside. You approach his bed and a familiar ache builds in him.

"This is your home?" You ask, sitting down on the soft moss bedding.

"Our home." He corrects.

He reaches out tentatively, lifting your chin with one of his claws like he's done so many times before to get your attention. He leans down, making gentle contact with your lips. He was only attempting to understand more of your language when your hands came up, pulling him in deeper.

König sinks into it, his magic dancing across your lips and then your tongue when you gasp. His instincts force him to step forward, making you fall backward onto the mossy bed.

He hovers over you, humming with a need that is quickly becoming an ache. His claws graze down your sides, making you arch into his chest. His tongue lolls out, licking his own lips. He leans down, blue eyes staring at you. He can smell something sweet coming from you that he wants to consume.

With a few movements, you're removing the protective layers you wear against the elements, baring yourself to his gaze. That sweet smell grows without your clothing, making his mouth water with hunger.

His head dips between your legs where the smell is the strongest and his tongue laps between your thighs, purring yet again. The tangy taste that coats his tongue is delightful. Your hips move against his tongue so his hands hold them down while he drinks his fill.

Your breath hitches as König's tongue slithers deeper, finding a better source for the taste inside you. The heat around his tongue makes his chest rumble, his cock begins to harden. He watches as your hands claw at the moss beneath you, his magic slowly filling the space he's invading. You loudly cry out then he feels muscles tightly clenching around his tongue.

Your body trembles under him as he climbs over you. His hands fumble to grab hold of himself, memories of humans that would press tightly against each other. Their bottoms moving up and down..

König settles between your legs, poking the tip between your legs. He grumbles, unsure how this feels good to anyone when his cock is hardly making contact. Your hands reach down, grasping him.

"Let me help." You say, voice breathless.

He allows it, body tensing at the feel of your hands touching him there. His eyes watch your squirm to the edge, biting your bottom lip. Heat engulfs him and his hips buck forward, the need for more filling him.

His hands plant beside your hips, grunts leaving him. Your hands leave his length the more he works into you. Your groaning beneath him, clutching his arms.

The pleasure is intoxicating - filling his head with how hot, tight you are around his throbbing cock. Your legs hook on his waist, enabling him to bury all the way.

He lowers his head, licking at your neck. Your body shifts each time his pull-push motions happen. You mewl and arch up against him. His tongue flicks across a nipple on your chest, enjoying the sounds coming from your lips.

Sweat is forming on your skin as he continues on, digging his fingers deeper into the moss bedding. You're as beautiful as the forest around you - sweaty, pleasure stricken, and crying out.

König purs as he feels you clench around him. The sounds you're making turn to screams, your legs locking him in deep. He haunches over your body, drool dripping on your chest. His cock swells before flooding you with his seed.

He keeps thrusting deeper into you, butting against your cervix to make it welcome his cum. It feels too good to stop. His hips keep moving, dragging along your already sensitive nerves. You're crying out, hands shoving at his broad chest.

"Again." König grunts out.