#if my relationship isn’t like this i don’t want it

[samkerrworshipper]

movin’ out

keira walsh x reader

i wrote a fic that isn’t super depressing or smut? sorry? it’s short, it’s a little bit funky and definitely not my normal style but it’s all i could piece together atm! i don’t think it’s technically a blurb but close enough! enjoy xo

warnings: none?

It’s been too long.

It’s all you can say or think the moment you see Keira.

Between you playing in England, her in Barcelona and then you playing for Australia and her playing for England the time you two can find together is so limited. Face times, constant texts and midnight calls are good for a couple of days, sometimes weeks but after months it becomes nowhere near enough to sustain a relationship. It’s the pains and trials associated with two professional athletes being in a relationship with each other, the disconnection was hard and the added hundreds of miles between you only made it harder.

You hadn’t realised how long it had been though, and just how much of a toll that might have started to take on your partner. Between the both of you playing a mid week game and then training every day in the lead up to weekend games you both hardly had enough time to make dinner and make room for your basic needs, let alone care from each other afar.

As you look at Keira now though, you’re really having second thoughts about the lack of check ins that you’ve been having with her and the amount of interactions you’ve been having that haven’t solely revolved around football.

“Hey baby.”

Keira looks ill, and not in the sick way, just her general features. She just looks unwell, like she hasn’t been sleeping at all, like she’s on the brink of a emotional breakdown and just generally miserable. You’d offered to pick her up from the airport but she’d denied your offer and you can see why now, she looks like she’s in tatters and is about to collapse in front of you.

“Hey.”

Every syllable is deflated, like she’s struggling to piece together the energy to move her lips.

You’ve known for a while now that Keira hasn’t been happy in Barcelona. Lucy leaving had been.. it had been tough. On top of the rest of the midfield finally being in good fitness and there being a lot less familiarity for Kei it was understandable that your girlfriend would be struggling, you just hadn’t understood how much.

You push her suitcase to the side in favour of bringing her straight into your arms. The way her hands cling to your jumper makes your heart thump.

“Hey baby, I’ve got you.”

You immediately feel sick with the guilt over the fact that tomorrow you have to leave, that you have a sweet twenty four hours to try and fix whatever this problem is before you are obligated to get on a flight and fly 20 hours further away. Your stomach actually hurts at the thought, here you are with your long distance girlfriend holding onto you like you’re her lifeline and your going to be dragged away in less than 24 hours.

“Let’s go to the couch huh? Get you off your feet.”

It’s phrased as a question but really you have no intention of standing in the entryway of your house for a minute longer. You lead Keira into your living room slowly, pulling her onto your couch with you and letting the slightly shorter woman to ragdoll on top of you. You don’t mind the cllinginess, it’s a far cry from how she is with almost every other human and to know that for the most part you are the only person who gets to see this side of Keira is special.

“Arsenal put in an offer.”

It wasn’t exactly public knowledge, Leah had told you though a couple of weeks ago when it had happened, you’d been a little bit dissapointed that Keira hadn’t told you when it was happening.

“I know.”

A part of you didn’t want to hear that Keira didn’t want to come, that she’d denied the offer. It was the part of you that still felt insecure about your relationship slightly.

“They told me, management. They didn’t even think about it. Even after i’d told them I was interested in coming back, that I wanted to come back to England. A million dollars and they turned it down.”

You take a deep breath, whilst Keira had made it clear to you that she wasn’t happy in Barcelona that hadn’t directly translated in your mind to her wanting to come to England or Arsenal.

“You wnat to come, to arsenal?”

Keira looks up at you and you get a good look in her eyes for the first time since she walked through the door fifteen minutes ago.

“England first and foremost, but Arsenal with you and Leah would be ideal. Not that it seems like it’s going to happen until my contract is up.”

You smile at Keira big and wide, there hasn’t been a point in your career yet where you’ve been in the same city, she was at Manchester and you were in America, then you moved to Arsenal and there was a period of 3 months where you were finally in the same country. Then it was Barcelona and the drift had started again. The idea of having Keira in the same city as you, potentially in the same house makes you giddy. But that’s all it it, a thought, because it’s not real and you’re in the same predicament of her being in camp for the next two weeks and then flying back to Barcelona before you’re back in the country.

“That would be nice.”

You purposely murmur it as quietly as possible.

“Yeah, would be nice.”

The reality is that for both of you there is no point in dreaming about more, dreaming only leads to let downs, big soul crushing let downs.

“You’ve just gotta gold on, you’ve got Kika and Ellie and Aitana, you just need to hold onto the people you have and make the most of it. You’re winning silverware at least?”

When the sound of a sniffle falls against you, your heart only clenches more.

“I want to be here, I want to be with you, not trying to find any spare minute in my schedule so that we can see each other for a second. I’m sick of always feeling like we have to make up for lost time, I want to live with you. Get our own dog, our own home, have our things, our own lives together instead of living separately.”

You nod against your girlfriends fluff of curly orange hair, it’s not often that it’s as puffy as it is, it’s only another sign to add to the list of how Keira must be feeling.

“You know, I really like that idea.”

You focus on Kei’s hair, undoing it from the makeshift bun it’s in and tangling your hair in the roots, carding your fingers through the ends and working up to her scalp.

“Just you and me, all the time, no more constant face time, surprise visits, rewatching games, coordinating schedules. Just you and me. It’s a good dream.”

That’s the thing, it can’t be anything more than a dream for either of you, in theory it would be lovely, amazing even. But dreaming is what gives the biggest disappointments.

“Maybe more than a dream.”

You ndo to satisfy Kei, because the last thing she needs on top of her own struggles and doubt right now is yours on top of it. But in your mind it just doesn’t work out, how can you expect it to work out when realistically the both of you are always going to prioritise your careers. It’s why you’ve both worked together so well, because there hasn’t been any mistranslations about the fact that you both are always going to prioritise your careers. It’s why in your head it doesn’t make sense that Keira would leave, she’s playing at the best club in the world, she’s at the highest level she could possibly be. A part of you is slightly insecure that her priorities are shifting, and it feels good but it’s also scary. You aren’t anywhere near to shifting away from your priorities, it’s been decided since you’ve been 12 that football was going to be the one love of your life. There were never boyfriends or girlfriends or plans to have kids or go to university, it was always just football. Keira had been the one flaw in the plan, but it wasn’t a true flaw. Keira made things easier, or as easy as they could be. It was just so natural that it was just all cohesive. The distance was hard but it was what made it easier to focus on your career, there wasn’t any direct distractions in your life.

“Maybe.”

There’s a big part of you that worries that you might not be able to sustain a relationship that’s not long distance because you’ve never had to. You don’t know what it’s like to wake up next to a person and then get ready for football and prepare for a fame. Sure, over the summer you spend every waking moment with Keira, but normally there is a tournament or you’re so focused on relaxing in the little down time you have that having Keira around is just an afterthought. What you have, the love and affection from a far and occasionally for a couple of days is what’s been perfect for you, the thought of having it as a constant is terrifying.

“I invited Leah over later, I assumed you’d want to see her before camp and you’re surrounded by everyone else.”

Keira peeks up at you, her eyes wide and suddenly brimming with tears. The blue in her eyes is so much clearer when their wet, it’s like it reflects directly off of the features of her face.

“I’ll be with Leah for the next two weeks.”

The underlying tone is very clear.

“Well, I’ll never say no to a night with my favourite girl. How about thai and the love island episodes we haven’t watched on facetime together?”

You know you’ve said the right thing when Keira’s face immediately lights up, but after a few seconds it dims and all of the energy that seemed restored fades.

“I don’t want to disappoint Leah. every time I’m here it’s to see you, which I love but when she comes to Barcelona she always spends it with me.”

You lean down and plant a kiss to her forehead.

“Leah is not going to be offended that you choose to spend the little time you have with me, like I said, you have two weeks together. She will be perfectly happy with that, I’m happy to tell her that you’re overtired from the travel and I want to keep you all to myself.”

When she lifts her head up,you don’t hesitate to press what you intended to be a peck to her lips, but before you even know what’s happening Keira’s hoodie covered hands are reaching up behind your head, pulling you in.

It’s a good feeling, you like your relationship for this exact reason. You don’t know how the sparks would work, if they’d even be there if you had this all the time.

It’s supposed to be a dream to have this all the time, and yet the more you think about it, and the more the idea becomes slightly tangible the more you find yourself skeptical of the whole dream. It just doesn’t seem like something you should have.

“C’mere.”

You don’t miss the way you immediately relax as Keira completely collapses on top of you, her bones practically melting into your own. It feels so good, your body feels so much better with her around it, your head goes quiet and everything just fits into place. It’s the part of you that worries that if you have this all the time then that part, the magical part will somehow drift away and all the moments that keep you coming back will stall.

“I’ll order the thai, and I’ll text Leah. Tomorrow morning you’re going to call your agent and tell him that you want it made clear to Barca that you want to come back to England and the next offer available they should take it. Then you’ll help me pack for camp and we’ll have some really great goodbye sex and you’ll drive me to the airport and we’ll be all soppy and kiss and hug and cry. Then you’ll go on camp and tell Barca that you want a couple of days off when camp ends, and I’ll fly home as soon as my last match is over and we’ll spend whatever time we can get together. We’re going to make this work, we’re going to make something normal happen, okay?”

Whether it feels right or not, it sounds right, and as much as you aren’t sure about the future you know that right now Keira needs support. She’s not getting it at Barcelona clearly and you need to give it to her or as much as you can piece together. You need to problem solve this, you need to prove that even with all of your internal doubts that you can make whatever she needs or wnats work. She might not be your priority over football, or at least that’s what you think, but she’s pretty damn close and she’s the most stable thing you’ve had in your life for the past couple of years. You’ve put her through hell, and you need to fix the hell she’s currently living in like she would do for you.

“We’ll make it work?”

You look down at your perfect fucking girlfriend, on top of you, relaxed and smiling and it clicks, it all just clicks into place.

“Yeah baby, we’re gonna make it work.”

——————

anyways have a great day or night! love you all! maybe next time i post it’ll be a orgy 🤭

[borderlinereminders]

I think 99% of my advice for healthy relationships is to communicate, especially in advance.

Talk to your loved ones about conflict before you have one. Talk about how you react to conflict and ways you can solve conflict together. If you need to walk away during conflict to gather your thoughts, let them know before you have a conflict so that they can be prepared for the fact that you may need space. If there are certain things that really upset you that typically come up during conflicts, let them know.

Talk to your loved ones about your insecurities before they become a problem. Maybe this means planning a way to communicate that you could use some reassurance. Maybe this means getting a letter from them, or screenshots to read when you need to.

Talk to your loved ones about boundaries. If something they tease you about is actually upsetting, communicate that and let them know. Our loved ones generally want to make our lives better and wouldn’t continue to do stuff if they knew it was hurting you. They don’t know there’s a problem to fix if they aren’t told.

Talk to your loved ones if something is bothering you. Do you feel you always message first or initiate contact? Talk to them about it. Don’t start playing the “I’m not going to message until they do” game. Try not to become passive aggressive or hint at the problem.

Talk to your loved ones about things you like, appreciate or love. Give them the opportunity to do these things for you.

If a loved one is venting to you, ask what they need if they don’t tell you. Ask if they’d like support, or for you to offer validation or advice, or just to listen. This can prevent so much. When we get advice sometimes when we’re upset, we’re not in a place for it and it can make it worse and create conflict.

If a loved one is struggling and you don’t know how to help, don’t just avoid them because you don’t know what to say. Ask them how they’d like support. Sometimes people just want company, a distraction or to know they’re loved. On the other side of this, try to tell your loved ones how they can help. Often they do want to help, they just don’t know help.

I could go on and on about this, but perhaps you get the idea by now.

Our loved ones aren’t mind readers, but sometimes we expect them to be and that isn’t fair to them or us. That usually ends with both you and them being upset. Communicate directly when you can.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Would It Be Weird?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: After a night of drinking, you and your friends stumble across a fire station crawling with firemen. One of them catches your eye, and your friends try their damnest to get you two together. It’s been a long time for you but maybe Dean Winchester will change all of that.

Square Filled: stranger au (2023) for @spnaubingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

“Bartender! One more round!” your best friend, Shelly, calls out.

Despite being busy for the night, the bartender refills more shot glasses and hands them over one by one. After the week you just had, you deserve to have a night out for celebrations. Hard work pays off, and your boss promoted you to a manager with a significant pay raise, and Shelly just got engaged. That is enough to call for a celebratory night out with friends.

“So, have you decided on a maid of honor?” you ask Shelly when she returns to the table.

“You, of course. Better do a good job or else I’m asking my sister to do it.”

“Hey, don’t insult me. You know I love planning a good party,” you grin.

“I can’t believe I’m getting married! This is so surreal! Janice, when is Parker going to ask you to marry him? You’ve been together, what, six years?”

“We’re taking it slow. We don’t mind,” she shrugs. “Don’t come at me without coming after Tina. The other day, I caught her and Ben doing it on the kitchen counter.”

“Tina!” you gasp with a smile.

“I can’t help it. We’re in the honeymoon phase.”

“You got married three years ago.”

“No kids make the honeymoon phase last forever,” she laughs.

“So we’re all in relationships except for Y/N,” Shelly smirks. “When are you going to let a man ruffle those perfect feathers?”

“Shelly,” you grit out.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re the only one out of us who isn’t in a relationship. You’ve been single for half a decade now.”

It’s true. The last relationship you were in just didn’t do it for you. You stayed with him for three years because you thought that’s what you were supposed to be doing. He wasn’t anything special. He didn’t make your heart race. He didn't make your skin hot and clammy. He didn’t make you weak in the knees. But being with him was better than being alone.

You know better now. Being single doesn’t necessarily mean you’re alone. You have a wonderful job, loving parents, funny siblings, and wonderful friends. You like being single, but there are times when you wonder if there is more for you out there than meaningless sex and hookups.

“Despite what you might think, I’m happy where I am.”

“Nope, don’t accept it. We’re going to set you up tonight. Girls, do you see potential matches?”

“Come on, don’t do this,” you sigh.

Your friends chatter amongst themselves as they seek out potential matches for you while you sit there like a bum on a log. You can’t be too mad at them. They want to see you happy. Plus, they might actually find your next love. Despite their best efforts, they don’t find anyone worth your time, but you do get free drinks by flirting with men.

By two in the morning, you and your friends stumble out of the bar in laughter. Your home is a few blocks away so you’re okay with walking back to your place even though you drove there.

“We’ll come back for my car tomorrow. Right now, all I want is pizza. I have some in my freezer,” you say.

You’re not so drunk that you can’t walk straight or you’re slurring your words but you are drunk enough not to be able to drive. Your friends, on the other hand, are more far gone than you are. Shelly is a giggle drunk, Tina is a loud drunk, and Janice is a sexual drunk. You’re a mom drunk, always trying to take care of those around you. It’s why you’re less drunk than they are. Someone has to be the responsible one.

“Let’s stop there!” Tina gasps loudly.

She points to a firehouse that has the garage doors open to let in the cool night are. Inside are about half a dozen firemen, all with big muscles and tight clothing. Your friends are already walking over to the station with you trailing behind.

“Hey, ladies. What are you doing out here at two in the morning?” one of the men asks.

“The bar just closed and we’re not done with our party,” Shelly grins. “We go every Friday night.”

“Why aren’t the firefighters in my distract as hot as you guys are?” Janice giggles.

You step into the station and immediately become sober when you lock eyes with forest green eyes. All the air is knocked out of your lungs, your body becomes warm with tingles, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. Shelly notices the look in your eyes and nudges Janice with a smirk.

“I’m Dean,” Green Eyes says.

“Y/N,” you smile back.

“What’s the party for, ladies?”

“I just got engaged,” Shelly grins and shows off her ring to them. “Y/N just got a promotion.”

“What for?” Dean asks.

“To be a manager. It’s more money and I’m in charge of a lot of employees.”

“I hope you’re a good boss.”

“A very good one,” you smile.

“Do you have any alcohol?” Tina asks.

She stumbles forward and knocks into you. You fall forward and end up in Dean’s lap. He’s leaning against one of the trucks, and he easily catches you in his strong arms. There go the butterflies again.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“Don’t be. It got you in my arms,” he flirts.

You turn in his arms but he doesn’t let go of you. In fact, he wraps his arm around your chest. Shelly sees the blush on your cheeks and is mentally doing backflips at the thought of you finding your one.

“No, alcohol. Sorry.”

“Y/N, you have some. Let’s go to your place,” Janice says.

“We were heading there when you guys wanted to stop here and talk to the nice men.”

You look past your friends and notice the firefighter pole in the corner, and you gasp happily.

“You have a pole! I’ve always wanted to go down one,” you grin. “Can I?”

“Maybe when you’re not drunk,” Dean chuckles. “How are you guys getting home?”

“Walking. I live a few blocks away. We drove here but my car is going to be parked at the bar all night.”

“Let me drive you girls just make sure you make it home okay.”

“That sounds amazing. We’d love a ride,” Shelly says before you can say anything. “Can we take the firetruck?”

“Do you want to take the firetruck?” Dean asks.

You pull away slightly and look into his eyes. How are they so green? Damn, his parents must have great genes.

“Sure,” you giggle.

“Don’t let the Captain catch you,” one of Dean’s friends smirks.

“Don’t tell him and he won’t know. We’re taking the truck, ladies. Hop in.”

Your friends whoop and cheer as they climb into the truck, and Dean helps you into the front. Instead of driving them all home, he just takes them to your house. It’s a short ride but you feel more sober now than you did when you first arrived at the bar. There's something about Dean that makes you want to remember the night. You want to wake up tomorrow and remember how green his eyes are.

Your friends pile out of the truck and stumble to your front door. You toss Shelly your keys so that they can go inside while you hang back with Dean for a few minutes alone with him.

“Thank you for the ride, Dean.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

You open the door and hop out, but Dean doesn’t drive away like you thought he was going to do. Instead, he rolls down the window so he can get a better view of you walking to your house. A man who waits for you to enter your house? That’s a man you want.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N,” he calls out.

“Bye, Dean.”

Only when he sees you walk inside does he drive off. Dean hasn’t left your mind since that night, even after a week of grueling work in the office. As a new manager, you’re expected to do more work and manage more than half a dozen employees. It’s what you signed up for, but you didn’t realize just how much of your energy it was going to cost you.

By Friday night, you and your friends went to the same club to unwind. This time, you didn't drive to the club because you don’t ever want to leave your car here again. Reports of cars being broken into came from the bar. Luckily, yours was left alone but it was enough to scare you from keeping it here again.

“So, what happened with fireman Dean?” Shelly asks with a grin. “Did you kiss him?”

“Shelly! No,” you laugh. “He just gave us a ride. That’s it. I don’t even have his number.”

“Maybe we should go back and get it for you,” Tina smirks.

“Leave the poor man alone.”

This time, you don’t drink as much as your friends because you’re kind of hoping to run into Dean again. You want to remember every interaction with him as you can, and you figure you can always drink at your house. Time flies when you’re having fun and before you know it, it’s already two in the morning. You and your friends pile out of the bar but pause when you see the shiny red fire truck waiting outside.

“Hey, ladies. Want a ride?” Dean grins.

“Dean, hi,” you smile.

The girls giggle to themselves at the starstruck look in your eyes. Thankfully, they don’t comment on it.

“Thanks for the ride, Dean,” Shelly grins.

The girls take their seats in the back while you’re still standing on the sidewalk. You take two steps toward Dean and end up tripping over your own two feet. Dean is quick with his reflexes and catches you before you faceplant onto the concrete.

“Now, if I wasn’t here, who would have caught you?”

“No one,” you blush.

“Exactly. Now I have to be here every time to catch you.”

Once you’re in the passenger seat, Dean takes off toward Shelly’s house. You give him directions to each of their houses until you’re the only one left.

“Thank you for driving us all home.”

“No problem,” he smiles.

You spot a Sharpie in one of the cup holders so you grab it and grab Dean’s right hand. You write down your number in big numbers so he can’t miss it.

“Call me next time you want to pick me up.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

You lean over and kiss Dean’s cheek before leaving the fire truck. He watches you with a slight smirk, only driving away once he knows you’re safe inside your house. This becomes a routine for you and Dean. He’s always there outside the club with the fire truck, ready to drive you and your friends home. One time, you had an Uber all set up but Dean refused to let you take it. Your friends are having a field day with this. They tease you about your new fireman boyfriend even though you and Dean aren’t dating.

Could you two be? Sure. He hasn’t asked you out nor have you asked him out, and you two have never kissed. You’re flirting, dancing around the edges of what could be. It’s enough for you right now even though it wouldn’t be so terrible to date him. It’s fun to have a sexy stranger waiting for you.

One Friday night, you’re the designated DD since you have to help your brother move tomorrow. Being the only one sober is hilarious knowing how raunchy your friends can get.

“So, when are you going to fuck him?” Shelly asks.

“It’s not like that. He’s just giving us rides.”

“I bet you’d like to ride him,” Janice giggles. Your entire face goes hot, and she laughs at the look on your face. “Look how red she is! You like him!”

“Drink your drink, okay?”

Throughout the night, all you can think about is Dean and how good he’d look on top of you or beneath you. Curse your friends and their no-filter mouths. By the time two rolls around, you’re leaving the club with your friends. Dean is standing outside near his truck like he’s always done the past few months.

“I’m the DD tonight.” You hold up your key. “No drinking for me.”

“When are you going to fuck her?” Tina asks loudly. “Because it’s been a long time for her.”

“Tina!” you hiss and look at Dean. “Sorry.”

“It’s no problem,” he smiles, “but I am driving you all home. You can call me tomorrow and I’ll drive you back here.”

“Why would you do that? It seems like a hassle.”

“It’s no problem.”

The girls hop into the back while you take the front, as per usual, and Dean starts the drive to Shelly’s house. While he’s driving, you can’t help but stare at him. He has such a great side profile. His jaw is strong and sharp, and he has a delicious amount of facial hair. Not too long but enough to feel the burn on your skin. Dean side-eyes you and smirks knowing you’re watching him.

“Want to turn the sirens on?”

“Yeah! Turn them on!”

“Can I?” you ask with a grin.

Dean shows you the button to press, and you flip the switch. The sirens go off and the lights flash rapidly, and your friends cheer and shout. Dean turns them off before someone thinks there is a real emergency. Dean stops at your house once all your friends are gone, but you don’t rush to get out.

“Thank you for driving them home. You didn't have to.”

“I wanted to. I like driving you home.”

Now that you’re sober, you can feel the tension between you two. This is going to be something you deal with another time, so you lean over and kiss his cheek like you’ve been doing.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

You get out of the truck and feel his eyes on you the whole time. Instead of going inside, you stop by your front door just staring at it. What the hell are you doing? There is obvious chemistry between you two. Are you really just going to ignore it and wait for someone else to snatch him up?

“Y/N?” Dean calls from the truck. When you don’t turn around, he gets out and lightly jogs over to you. “Hey, you okay?”

“Why did you drive me home?” You turn to face him. “Now I have to go back to the club to get my car.”

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow and drive you over there. Not in the truck, unfortunately.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

“You were drinking tonight.”

“I was the DD. Why did you drive me and all my friends home?”

Dean rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Would it be weird if I told you I look forward to Friday nights knowing I get to see your smile?”

“No,” you mumble with a blush. “Would it be weird if I told you I only go to the club on Friday nights knowing you’re out there waiting for me?”

Dean steps closer to you with a smile. “No. Would it be weird if I wanted to kiss you?”

“It’d be weird if you didn’t.”

Dean pulls you into him and kisses you. It’s like how every romance author describes a first kiss. Sparks fly, euphoria flows through the veins, and you can’t ever see yourself kissing anyone else.

x

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[solxamber]

Hello Miss Sol! I just saw the event and I can't pass up this opportunity to see you write Valentimes stories.

May I please have Riddle, Romantic, with "No Name Yet" by Double Face? https://youtu.be/U8Sb-laqFbo?si=wBDPDKcgILJgCWll

Thank you!

enstars??? in my inbox?? unexpected but love that

"The joy of first bloom" || Riddle Rosehearts

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: No Name Yet by Double Face

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 650

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Pre-relationship, Realization of feelings

The rose garden is quiet today. The gentle breeze carries the scent of fresh blossoms, and the golden afternoon light filters through the hedges, painting shifting patterns on the stone paths. It's peaceful—serene in a way that Riddle never quite knows how to handle.

Even now, with the weight of his past slowly loosening its grip, he still fights against the instinct to fill the silence with purpose. His hands remain stiff on his lap, posture perfect, eyes focused ahead as if waiting for an order. Old habits die hard.

But then, there's you.

Sitting beside him, humming some quiet, nameless tune, letting the sunlight kiss your skin without a care in the world. You've always been like this—effortlessly free, your warmth spilling into his life like a season he'd never been allowed to experience.

He doesn't quite understand it. Even after all this time, after everything he’s shown you—his ugly, controlling nature, the temper he barely manages to keep in check, the aftermath of his overblot—you remain. Smiling, laughing, asking him if he's eaten lunch today, if he's gotten enough rest.

As if it’s that simple. As if he isn’t something fractured, something still learning how to exist outside the rigid structure he was raised in.

He doesn’t deserve it.

And yet, he wants it.

He wants to be near you. He wants to hear you call his name like it’s something soft, not something sharp and demanding. He wants to be worthy of the warmth you offer so freely.

But he doesn’t know how.

The thought makes his hands clench slightly, nails pressing crescents into the fabric of his uniform.

You glance at him, sensing his tension, and tilt your head. “What’s on your mind, Riddle?”

He swallows. He could lie. It would be easy—he’s spent his whole life hiding his emotions, curating himself into something palatable. But something about the way you look at him makes honesty feel possible.

“I was thinking about…growth.”

Your eyes soften. “Oh?”

He hesitates, then gestures vaguely toward the garden. “These roses. They bloom so easily, don’t they? But they require constant care, the right conditions. Pruning, sunlight, proper watering.” He exhales, gaze dropping. “I wonder… if there are some flowers that simply aren’t meant to bloom.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his words. Then, with a thoughtful hum, you reach down and pluck a stray wildflower that’s sprouted between the neatly trimmed hedges. It’s small, delicate—pale blue petals trembling slightly in the breeze.

“Not every flower blooms the same way,” you say, holding it out to him. “Some take longer. Some need different care than others. But that doesn’t mean they’re not meant to bloom.”

He stares at the flower in your hands, his heart beating strangely in his chest.

You continue, voice gentle. “I think you’ve been growing this whole time, Riddle. Even if you don’t realize it.”

His fingers twitch, aching to take the flower from your hand, to hold onto something so simple yet so profound. But he doesn’t. Instead, he watches as you tuck it behind his ear, fingers brushing against his hairline, lingering for just a second too long.

Warmth seeps into his chest.

Only you, he thinks.

Only you would make him feel this warm.

It isn’t until later, when he’s alone in his room, that he looks in the mirror and sees the flower still tucked behind his ear.

His fingers brush against the petals, delicate and real.

It has no name, but somehow, that feels right.

Because whatever this feeling is—the way his chest tightens when you smile at him, the way his pulse quickens when you touch his hand—it has no name yet.

But someday, he thinks, it will bloom into something beautiful.

And for the first time, he’s not afraid of it.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[andcars]

[ 𝗕𝗘𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘𝗗 𝗗𝗢𝗢𝗥𝗦 ] Mondays in Monaco

premise. you're not someone who's quick to judge anything that journalists put out on the internet. after weeks of not being with lewis, a picture surfaces with lewis and some other woman. you're not abou to lose him over this.

tags #ㅤlight angst, implied sexual content, thoughts on cheating, (more like worries that your partner is cheating but it's not real), light miscommunication, (solved fairly quick) wc #ㅤ 1.6k

ㅤㅤFEEL FREE TO INBOX ME FOR THOUGHTS OR REQUESTS !

| MASTERLIST⠀TAGLIST⠀PATREON GUIDE⠀MONDAYS IN MONACO

Dating one of the biggest men in sports isn’t easy. Surprisingly, it’s less about your title and your own achievements being overshadowed by being Lewis Hamilton’s girl and more about the mouths of journalists who run without mercy. It’s like none of them can take a break.

Days blur as you’re left alone in his penthouse. With his change to Ferrari, he has been spending more time in Maranello than in Monaco. That's not bad. He has his own job, you have your own. Both of you keep in contact daily, is that not enough? Distance doesn't kill love, people do.

At work, you get a decent salary while doing what you love. It's honest work and it takes your mind off complicated things like the media. While you're in the zone, your co-worker greets you by the doorframe. 

“Hey.”

You glance at him, “Hey.” Your hands work meticulously and your head is focused. However, the prolonged silence makes you glance back at your co-worker. “What?”

He shrugs, acting as if he isn't about to say something. That was only an act as he's already entering your space. “You're dating that one racer, right?” It's a breath of fresh air when people don't shove it into your face that you’re dating an icon.

“Yeah,” you nod, your body coming to a slow close, “What's up?”

“The, ah, Hamilton?”

“Yes,” you laugh, putting your hands away from your work, “what is it? You want an autograph?”

He reacts immediately, rolling his eyes with a defensive flail of his hands. “No, God,” he exclaims. “I can't get past the sports things.” He shivers as if it's such a bother to his life.  “But… apparently they caught him exiting some woman's yacht.”

This is news to you. “Yacht?” He's supposed to be in Maranello.

“Yeah. Look at this.”

You pat your hands with a towel, trying to take the excess clay off your fingers when you're handed the phone. To everyone's relief, he holds it for you instead. The screen displays a photo—clearly taken without their consent—of Lewis and another woman in a yacht. Both of them are in state of undress; Lewis wears nothing but swimming shorts, and sunglasses as his hair is tucked neatly in dreads; then, the mysterious woman in her bikini and blonde hair down to her chest.

It's… something. 

You're never one to assume things. It's harmful to the soul and the relationship. From the pictures, they could simply just be physically together. It could've been a late party last night—a night he didn't come home to you. He has his own life, it's not like you were one to go to all of his afterparties either. It's just something that never interested you.

You retell yourself, that people don’t kill the love, trust does.

“Thanks,” you tell him. There's a coil around your heart and you’re doing everything to get it off you. “But I’m sure I can talk to him about this.”

“Of course. I’m sorry if this seems like it's out of my business but…”

You nod, trying to see everything in the bigger picture. “I get it. I’d do the same if your boy was cheating on you too.”

That makes him laugh. “Oh, no, you're better than me. If you showed me that, I would've cut his dick off immediately.” He thinks again of what he said, taking in your calm demeanour. “Oh. Sorry.”

Travelling from Nice to Monaco is a peaceful event. One of the things you love about working in Nice is the ride there. It's a quick break from your personal life and to work. In the middle, nothing really matters. When you get home, you're pleasantly surprised to see Lewis already there. 

Limbo has ended when you exit your car. “Hey,” he smiles at you, preparing food for himself and you. Him with a meal tailored to his diet, and yours with your favourite dish.

“Hi.” Lewis was always sweet when he hadn't seen you in a while. It's like his way of making it up to you. “I thought you were still out in Italy?”

*Huh?” Food flew in mid-air for a second, his head having snapped to yours. “No. I came home last night and stayed at a friend's place.”

You try to tell yourself your tone isn’t as sharp as you thought it was as you ask, “You mean her yacht?”

He laughs, shaking his head. That didn't even faze him. That's good, you think. If he was cheating, he would've been sending warnings all over his body. Instead, he tells you, “She practically lives there. I don't think I ever seen her on the shores.”

“Huh.” You tap your fingers on the island, he glances at it “A bunch of paparazzi saw the two of you though.”

“Really?” He puts the utensils down and suddenly, you know the conversation has taken reigns. "We were pretty far off the shore,” he says, “I'm surprised they can capture us from there.”

“Great lenses.”

He turns the stove off. “Is everything okay?”

“I'm sorry.” It's getting to you. You don't *like” that it's getting to you. “What do you think, Lewis?”

The man smiles. There's an easy smile on his face but you can tell he's just as saddened as you are. “Sweetheart,” he calls, putting his hands on your arms and facing you to him, “tell me what's wrong. Please?”

What's wrong feels like a complicated question. However, it's a simple answer, “I've missed you.”

“I've missed you too,” he says, immediately knowing what to say.

“No, it's just…” there are words stuck that you aren't quite sure how to get out. You try anyway. “You've been busy with Ferrari, I know that. I didn't go into this relationship not knowing what to expect. But it's just hard to talk as much as before and then I see pictures of you in another woman's yacht half naked so I just…”

“Assumed?” he smiles, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes. “Is it so bad?”

It's not. He knows it's not. You don't like how he kisses you first instead of explaining. It's not like you're complaining in the long run though. When he pulls away, he's humming as he drums his finger over your collar. “Well, if I'm being honest, I would've reacted way worse if I saw you like that with someone else.”

You remember that similar words were said to you. “Everyone keeps saying that.”

“What?”

“That they're gonna react worse.”

“Because,” Lewis kisses your cheeks, your jaw, and presses a sharp one just on your collarbone “You're forgiving. You're patient. You're the smartest woman I know stuck with a guy who travels for a living. It's unfair because you should be with someone who's there for you for every part of your life—”

“Lewis—”

“I’m being serious here.” He is, you know it. “You deserve someone like that.” Your head rests on his palm, your eyes locking in and you can only see the love radiating from him “But I’m glad it's me. I'm not gonna be the perfect man that you deserve, but know that I'm gonna try my hardest.

“And baby, I want you to punch me for even looking like I was about to cheat on you.”

That pulls you out of it. “Oh, come on,” you scoff, “be serious here.”

“I'm serious. I would've beaten up the guy you were with if you were in my position.”

You think he's being silly. It barely matters when his hands go under your shirt. It's nothing too much—he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. It's the intimacy and the warmth of your skin that makes him want this. It's nice. You ask him, mind trying to come back to the conversation, “Then shouldn't that mean that I should punch your friend then?”

Lewis shakes his head, putting a kiss on your forehead, “No, no. It should be me who takes the blow. I would be the idiot who went for someone else when I had this angel in my home.”

“Mhm?” He hums back, his hand teasing just on your waistband and you let out a laugh. “And I'm not the idiot who goes for someone else?”

“No, my sweet angel. You would be the genius getting what you deserve.”

To say the truth, there was barely any doubt. The loneliness for the past few weeks has crawled up to you—he knows that. You're never shy about communicating your feelings. For days, you've pouted over text how you miss him. Now that he's here, you're enjoying his hands roam your body as eagerly as his lips do.

It's like he's learning you all over again. He knows your favourite places yet he massages and kisses them like it's the first time. He's experimenting. He wants to know how to make you feel good again. It's a testament to show how he knows your body more than you ever could. Your heart grows fond with each kiss, a devotion of love just on the other side of it.

When both of you are in bed, stomach and heart full, you realise something. Well, more like you’re contradicting something. 

You tell him, “It's not about what I deserve.”

“Hm?” He's snuggled beside you, hands under your shirt and relaxed. 

“You deserve… an eight championship. A good car. A better team. But it's not about what you deserve.” You turn to look at him but he's already looking at you. “It's about what you want and what you'll do to get it. For me, it's what I’ll do to keep it.”

That’s enough for you.

@Delululeclerc @hiireadstuff @rtorresblog @Jamie2305 @nichmeddar @vannylen2144

FOOTNOTE ────── i wrote this with my wrist hurting like HELL TT but more lewis hamilton on the go. i rlly like him but I've never written much on him. hope u like this! also reader here is very kind cuz I do not like messy relationships lol. it's my first fic for mondays in monaco (posted on tuesday 12am) so i hope you stay tuned for the next few fics!

[juyeoz]

I’M RIGHT HERE — LEE RIWOO

SYNOPSIS — Riwoo knows crushing on his best friend’s sibling isn’t the best idea, and luckily for him, karma is able to show him that he is right.

PAIRING — dancer!riwoo x bsf-sibling-gn!reader (there’s not much on him dancing tbh)

CONTAINS — angst, mentions of break ups, crying, heavy unrequited love, it’s just sad tbh……..!

WORDCOUNT — 1006 words

NOTE — this was for my beloveds pftbz rhin and soph 🤍 right here by justin bieber also inspired this……….

Lee Riwoo knows finding his best friend’s sibling attractive is bad. Nevertheless, having feelings for her is even worse. He knows this is all a bad idea, but how can he help himself especially if you are sitting in front of him and crying?

The dance studio Riwoo is always in is quiet. The lights are dimmed and your glossy eyes are shining in his face. He has no clue why you’re feeling so emotional, and yet he still feels terrible. 

“What’s wrong?” Riwoo asks, hesitating to reach his hand out and thumb away your tears.

If there is another thing Riwoo knows about you, it is definitely your relationship with your significant other. So, what if he does the wrong move and weirds you out? What will your significant other do to him if they ever found out about his possible action?

It’s another reason why he keeps his distance from you and forces him to suppress his feelings that threaten to arise.

He knows you’re a bad idea and that he should stay away from you, but he can’t. Riwoo physically cannot bring himself to do such a thing. 

You greet him with such excitement whenever he appears beside your brother, Sungho, only giving him more hope that he has a chance with you.

However, the day you run into him leaving the dance studio after another successful solo practice, things change. Riwoo’s possible chances disappear at the sight of the person beside you — your new significant other.

Everything that he believed was hope was nothing more than false.

It’s over for Riwoo. There’s no way he can get another chance to be with you within his time of knowing you. Eventually, you two will drift away and you’ll be known as Sungho’s sibling once again while he is known as just the boy Sungho is friends with. The one that often appears at your house to hangout with your brother. 

The one who Sungho constantly boasts about because he believes Riwoo is very talented. However, to himself he will always be the one who fell in love with you at first sight.

Clearly, this is a thought that crosses Riwoo’s mind often. However, the moment he found out you were taken, it stopped making its rounds in his head. 

Brief silent moments are full with your constant sniffles and the faint sound of the song Riwoo is choreographing to playing in the background. 

He waits and waits for your response, not wanting to rush someone in such a weak state.

“We broke up.” 

Your voice leaves your mouth weakly as his brows perk up your words. 

What do you mean?

“We broke up and I don’t know why.” Your tears continue to stream down your face at a faster speed than before.

Without a second thought, Riwoo’s hands cup your cheeks and wipe away your tears using his thumbs. 

You lower your own arms, your wrists tired from rubbing at your eyes every second tears threaten to fall, and cry.

Despite Riwoo knowing that doing this is a bad idea, he can’t leave you feeling vulnerable. If he does, Sungho will come after him. There’s no doubt about it.

The thought of having a chance barely crosses his mind. It makes a split second appearance but doesn’t distract him for long.

He spaces out with his eyes still on you, but nothing is heard through his ears. 

It’s silent. 

Almost like a ringing sound.

He leans back onto the wall behind him, pulling you into his chest in the process. Riwoo doesn’t care if his shirt gets wet by your tears and possible snot. Who would during such a moment?

In this position, he occasionally rubs circles on your back and plays with your hair in a comforting way.

He only cares if a hug will make you feel better. He wants to see you smile instead of frown and bawl your eyes out. 

The opposite is the last thing he wants to see.

Disregarding that, it’s obvious that not everything is in Riwoo’s favour because the last thing he will forever want to hear suddenly leaves your lips.

“I still want to…” 

Your voice gets muffled in his chest, leaving the boy confused. 

“What did you say?” He asks while running his hand up and down the back of your head. 

“Be with them. I still want to be with them.” You repeat with such certainty in your voice. With that said, it’s obvious that you see Riwoo as a friend or even a shoulder to cry on and nothing more.

He tenses at your words, his movements halting for a brief second as regret settles in his system.

Riwoo regrets his question. He is better off not hearing such a thing escape your lips. Clearly, his feelings for you are nothing more than an unnecessary distraction from how he should really see you.

A friend. Or even worse, just Sungho’s sibling.

Is this karma hitting him for thinking he ever had a chance to make you his? Is this one of his out-of-this-world thoughts that he can’t reach?

Is it his fault for letting himself get so close to you even while knowing you are a bad idea?

It’s not his fault he can’t walk away, right? You have him hooked around your finger and you never thought of him the same way.

Riwoo should have known the moment he found out you were Sungho’s sibling that you’d be out of his reach. 

Still, he let his heart and feelings get the best of him.

Whatever, this current moment isn’t about him. He should focus on making sure you feel better about your whole break up.

His own breakdown can wait until he is ready for it — which is hopefully, never.

With a sigh, Riwoo pulls you in closer as his embrace tightens, fighting back the urges to not say his next words. But to his dismay, he fails and says them anyway.

“I’m right here. It’s okay, you can cry.” 

© JUYEOZ

BOYNEXTDOOR PERM TAGLIST — @ancnymcnzjy @miumura @ilovedallywinston @i03jae @borednia @s0shroe @leehanwish @sol3chu @en-dream @ribbeoms @itsactuallylina @macapunoz @hollxe1 @r1kification @mensisim @mydearyeseo @sunghxxnie @taesanfav @wonzzziezzzz @ijustwannareadstuff20

[quarterlifekitty]

Hi!!!!! How do you think Nikolai would eventually confront you in the secret baby scenario?

It depends on whether or not you crack! But in the scenario where you don’t, I imagine he’d bring it up at a pretty terrible time.

Your baby’s first birthday, maybe. Pulls you aside to the kitchen, helping you to clean up after the smash cake while the others take turns making the baby laugh.

“Milaya, tell me the truth. She’s mine, isn’t she?”

It’s right to the point. Well, as much as it can be after he’s spent so long waiting for her to crack and confess.

“Yes. But I don’t have any expectation that you’ll be her father, so don’t worry.” You say it so easily, like it’s natural that’s what he would want. Like it doesn’t hurt him to watch her grow up without her papa.

“Why would I be worried about that?”

You set a plate in the sink before turning to face him. “Listen, Nik— I don’t want you to volunteer because you feel obligated. I didn’t write your name on the birth certificate or anything. I’ll be fine— she already has quite a lot of male role models, don’t you think? You don’t have to ruin your life just because you made the mistake of sleeping with me.” Once again, you tear out his heart with such little effort.

“It wasn’t a mistake. Not to me. You really think I’d feel that way? That I’d spend all that time chasing you and regret it?”

“Whether or not you enjoyed yourself, you’re not built for a relationship, much less a family. You know why you had to chase me? I didn’t want to be involved with a man who’s constantly in the far corners of the world fighting other people’s battles. And I definitely don’t want that for my daughter. I don’t want to see her waiting at the door on the day you don’t come back.”

“I would never abandon you—“

“Don’t you get it? You might not have a choice.”

[selfindulgentpixies]

Safe in his arms, Safe in yours

part 1

Dazai x GN!Afab!reader X Chuuya

MDNI

I will block minors, ageless and blank blogs.

So I've been tossing around a few fic ideas for BSD and this is the first one that I finally finished. Well I say finished but in reality it's a part one. Came about because of omega verse selfship questions that my imagination go a little wild. This is self indulgent.

CW: Omega verse, established relationship with Dazai, Dazai was previously in a relationship with Chuuya. Reader's anatomy is referred to as cunt and pussy, but their chest is reference more neutrally. Alpha!Dazai, Omega!Chuuya(with some atypical behavior of omegas), Omega!Reader. They/them pronouns are used for reader. Sweet heart used as a nickname for reader by Dazai once.

Anyway please be kind and I hope you enjoy!

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission. It’s why you were here solo afterall. You were supposed to slip in, an unassuming omega, get what you needed and get out. You’re not defenseless but you’re not a frontline fighter and rarely do you ever go in alone, especially since you’d bonded to Dazai. He was on another mission though, just like everyone was. The agency was swamped. And again, this was supposed to be an in and out mission. 

Being pinned to the ground by some monologuing asshole alpha had not been a part of the plan. A monologing asshole who apparently had a personal bone to pick with Osamu. But you also hadn’t accounted for a certain red headed mafia exec to show up. 

For you it feels like it happens so quickly. One minute there’s a boot on the back of your neck and the next… The next there’s yelling and then the weight is gone, amidst a crash and a rush of dust, gloved hands are gently helping you to a sitting position. “Good, you're still able to sit up. Thought the worst when I saw you pinned by the neck like that.” Eyes, one blue and one brown scan over you.

You blink at him somewhat owlishly, barely dried tear tracks streak your cheeks that he mercifully doesn’t comment on as he takes off his coat and wraps it around your shoulders, enveloping you in the scent of warm cinnamon and leather, making you shiver and pull it tight. You both turn at the sound of crumbling debris. 

The fight, had it been anyone other than Chuuya likely would have been touch and go but for him, especially with protecting someone in mind, was no problem. No harder than stomping out a large bug. A bit of a nuisance, a little gross, but not a problem. 

No, the real problem was the state he found you in after the fight. Curled forward on your knees, hidden in his coat, even both being omegas he could tell you were trying to breathe in his scent from the neck of his coat, likely in an attempt to soothe yourself. But you were from the ADA why would you need to be soothed, you should be able to handle this sort of stress- He kneels down  “Hey-” you jerk a little as he reaches into the coat behind your neck so he can slide a hand into your hair and tilt your face toward him. “Fuck.” Your pupils are blown wide and curls of hair stick to your forehead with sweat.

His grip on your hair isn’t tight and with the sudden closeness you find yourself drawn forward to his neck, toward his scent gland with a long faded bite where you press your face in a haze. You whine, you’d be embarrassed any other time but you can’t help it, you think you catch the faintest bit of Osamu’s scent there.

Chuuya can’t help it. He stills. Has to gather himself against the tidal of memories that want to pull him under. Then he’s rising up and taking you with him, gathering you up and carrying you as if you weigh nothing. “We can’t stay here with you like this.” His words feel so far away. Was he ever the one going under or was it you?

–

Getting to and checking into the hotel is hazy for you. Chuuya finally sets you down but you remain leaning heavily into his side. You’re fairly certain he doesn’t give your real names but soon enough the check in is done. You don’t notice the leering look the clerk sends your way, nor do you notice the warning flash of teeth Chuuya gives before ushering you along, one hand at the small of your back and keys rattling in the other. Ideally he would’ve taken you somewhere safer, but this place was convenient, and in the moment that seemed to be the most important thing with how fast your heat was coming on.

Key in lock and your warm breath on his neck Chuuya glances at you. “Just hang in there okay? We’ll get you settled and I’ll call that jackass alpha of yours to see how quickly we can get him to come take care of you.” The lock clicks and the door swings inward. 

“Sorry for all the trouble..” It’s the first thing you’ve said and apparently it’s not the right thing by the huff Chuuya lets out as he closes the door behind the two of you and locks it. 

“Hey none of that. This ain’t your fault, you hear me?” He scoops you up again so he can carry you to the bed and gently place you on the end of it. He kneels down and looks up at you meeting your gaze as he makes quick work undoing the laces of your boots. He knows that look, has seen it in the mirror when his own heat has begun to hit and he’s trying to keep a clear head. It’s a helpless feeling. He pulls off your boots and sets them to the side before massaging your left calf with one hand. “Do you have your phone? Dazai will be more likely to answer a call from your phone than mine.”

You fight to blink some awareness back into your eyes at Dazai’s name and fish around in your pants pocket, pulling out your phone and passing it to Chuuya. “Good,” He praises as he takes the phone. He can’t help but note that your background is a picture of yourself and Dazai where Dazai had fallen asleep on your shoulder and you decided to take a selfie. It’s sweet, it makes something tighten in Chuuya’s chest, he finds him your contacts and hits call. 

It rings once, twice, “Hey Sweet heart~ How’d your mission g-”

Chuuya doesn’t let him finish. “Dazai-”

“What happened?” All sweet flirting lilt leaves his voice immediately because something has to have happened for Chuuya’s voice to be on the other end of the line when it’s a call coming from your number. 

Chuuya has to resist the urge to snap back at him for interrupting. “They’re safe before you get your alpha panties in a twist, mackerel. They’re gonna need you though,” and he explains all he knows of the situation and gives him the location of the hotel before passing the phone to you. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you curl up on your side and quietly speak to Dazai on the phone, watches as some of tension leaves your body.

Then you speak up. “Okay I will.” And switch the phone to speaker. “Can you hear me, Slug?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I can hear you.”

“Good. I’ll be there as soon as I’m able, I already told them to let you look after them so I’ll be counting on you.”

Hearing those words from Dazai sends a thrill up Chuuya’s spine that he wishes he could smoother. “Yeah yeah, i was planning on it. I’m not gonna just make them suffer. Just hurry up you shitty alpha. Pretty pathetic of you having another omega taking care of yours..” the last part is grumbled as Chuuya begins to pull off his cropped jacket to place on the bed beside you before unbuttoning his vest.

You turn off the speaker and speak quietly to Dazai for another minute before hanging up, presumably so he can start making his way here without delay. You look to Chuuya curiously as he hands you the vest. “I know it’s not as good as something of his, but you can use it to nest for now.” then more hesitantly. “If you want it anyway.” He swallows as he watches your eyes spark with something before you’re pulling him onto the bed with you, only pausing long enough for him to kick off his shoes finally. 

Undressing goes in a push and pull. His coat shoved back off your shoulders, a tug of his harness until he gets the hint and it’s unbuckled, shirt over your head, his steady hands covering your shaking ones as you try to undo the buttons of his shirt. In this way the two of you are slowly stripped down your boxers, able to press skin on skin while you make your nest as best you can. He manages to convince you to toss your dusty clothes off the bed. You’re more antsy and fussy than Chuuya expected you be as he coaxes you into laying with him finally. Your instincts weren’t going to let you feel your nest was complete until you had something of Dazai’s So you needed to be distracted.

Really Chuuya would have told anyone who had dared tell him this morning that he’d be curled up in bed with fuckin’ Dazai’s current omega, skin on skin gently rubbing wrists together, the fabric of his gloves being pushed up, that they’d fucking lost their mind. Possibly would have broken a few bones. But that’s exactly what he was doing. You were soft, endearing in the way omegas were meant to be, in a way he never had been, he can’t help but think. But he also thinks he likes you like this. What a dangerous little thought.

“C-chuuya-” You whine into his neck, never attempting to bite or even lick, just often pressing your face to the scent gland there as you press your body along his. Chuuya’s muscular thigh has slotted between your own at some point, and he allows you to rut against him, the soaked boxers leaving little to the imagination. “P-please I need..” His fingers flex against your hips.

He suddenly flips the two of you so you’re below him. “You need to wait for that stupid,” He takes a breath, a mistake, he shudders, gathers himself, “You need to wait for your alpha. You’re not in your right mind to ask me for anything.” He shouldn’t have to breathe through his mouth like this, not for another omega, he shouldn’t , the taste of your scent is hardly better. He’s gonna be pissed if he’s in heat too by the time that bastard gets here. He can feel his mouth fucking watering over you.

“No no please, I know what I want, Chuuya, I promise. I’ve always liked you whenever we’ve met and, ‘samu says i can trust you an” you’re babbling, the heat is in your head now and honestly it’s hitting Chuuya too if what he does next is any indication. He cuts you off in a kiss, it’s wet, all tongue and teeth as he licks into your mouth, swallowing your whimpers as you yield to him immediately, so willing to give whatever he shows you he wants to take. Heat coils low in his belly and his hips jerk.

He should hold out. Put a pin in this until you’re both clear headed but fuck, the kiss was the point of no return because of the pheromones in both of your saliva. He pulls back from you, pupils blown as he shuffles to create enough space to lift your lower half enough to yank off your boxer briefs in one swift motion. He lets you sag there, one leg hooking over his shoulder at the knee while the other falls to the side, your foot hitting the bed with a small bounce. “Ffff-uck-” he breathes out. Your glistening cunt right there, your clit swollen. The hand by the shoulder where your knee rests grips you so he turns his head for a moment and takes out his need to nip and lave a soothing lick. He raises his right hand, the one not gripping your leg, to his mouth so he can pull his glove off with his teeth, spitting the garment off somewhere on the bed. Hand now bare he spreads your glistening cunt, his eyes blown dark.

You feel dizzy, well you’ve been feeling dizzy with it, but this is different now with your shoulders and head sunk low into the pillow as you look up at Chuuya who has you curled against his chest cunt first. Normally you’d be trying to bury and hide your face, humiliated by how closely he’s looking at the most intimate parts of you. Right now though? Your brain is heat addled and you’re pressing your weight into your shoulders to try press your pussy closer him- you can’t. You can’t, it’s like you’re being gently yet firmly held in place, held down all over. Chuuya turns his face slightly and grins down at you. “You’re gonna be patient for me.” And as he tells you this he slides his fingers through your slick folds. It’s only then that it occurs to you that he’s using his ability to hold you in place. Before you can react in any meaningful way he’s pushing his middle and ring finger into you “Fuuuck,” he says in chorus with your moan. You’re so warm and wet around his fingers, of course you are, your scent, even more than when he’d stripped off the last of your clothes, seems to fill the air around him. He can’t help but lean forward, forcing you to curl up further so his body is wrapping around your own.

He’s so lost in you, your expressions, scent, the feel of you around him, that he almost misses the click of the door’s lock. Almost. He begins to pull back from you, allowing your spine to unfurl while whipping his head toward the door teeth bared. 

“Easy there, Chibi. It’s just me.”  Dazai Says while slipping through the door quickly, opening it as little as possible and closing it just as abruptly not wanting the scent of his omegas.. omega to flood the hall. He looks rather harried, duffel  tossed over his shoulder. With the door securely locked his dark gaze turns back toward the bed and the biting words Chuuya had been about to spit at him about the nickname and running so late die in his throat. He loathes to admit what being under that specific gaze does, the weight of its possessiveness even if he knows it’s for you and not him.

“Osamuuu,” You whine, desperate, tears springing to your eyes all while Chuuya is jolted back to himself when he feels you clench involuntarily around his fingers. His heterochromatic eyes snapping back to you as his ability suddenly releases allowing you to sag and he pulls his fingers from you. 

“Shit, sorry- “ your name tumbles out of chuuya’s mouth as the bed suddenly dips and Dazai is taking his wrist, bringing the fingers Chuuya had just pulled from inside of you to his mouth and licking at the digits from base to the tip, the pink muscle curling obscenely, and letting the taste of your slick spread over his tongue.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart, I’m here now. Chuuya was taking good care of you huh?” His voice husks, while he’s still holding Chuuya’s hand to his mouth.

“Do you f-fuckin’ mind, asshole?” Chuuya bites out, hating how he feels warmth flush even deeper at Dazai’s actions, the feeling of his tongue, the scent of an alpha coming off him in waves now that he’s invaded his and your personal space. He tells himself he should rip his hand away from Dazai, he’s more than capable and yet.

Your head bobs up and down in the pillows, drawing Chuuya’s gaze mercifully away from the lewd sight of Dazai still sucking your slick off of his fingers. “He really was, he’s going to get to stay right?”

“Hmm, that depends on him,” Dazai nearly hums the words, something knowing, syrupy thick and sweet dripping off the syllables making Chuuya finally yank his hand back. He ignores how goosebumps prickle his flesh from the alpha’s cooling saliva on his skin.

“Depends on what about me exactly?” The question is barbed, something most any other alpha would bristle at, especially while in the presence of their bonded omega, in heat and spread out on their back. But Dazai has never been just any other alpha.  

“Well on if you want to stay, of course. You were going well out of your way to help us.” Chuuya starts to open his mouth but Dazai interrupts. “And you know very well helping them, especially in this circumstance counts as helping both of us. So I’m certainly not going to chase you out.”

While the two of them are going back and forth you’re shimmying in the pillows, finally getting the leverage you need to begin to sit up, tucking your feet beneath you and by the time the two pairs of eye turn to you you’ve already launched yourself, tackling Dazai with most of your weight yet still snagging Chuuya as you go with your right arm. The result being Dazai on his back with you sprawled on his chest and Chuuya beside the two of you, your forearm planted across his chest in a way that can only be described as possessive. “I want you both here.” The words start muffled against Dazai’s bandaged neck though you turn your face just enough to peek one eye at the other omega.

And there's part one! My brain feels a little like mush from finishing it up and reading over it several times so please excuse any mistakes. I hope you all enjoyed!

I don't know why i'd so nervous about posting for bsd in particular but i am. 😅

Also special shout out to @lorelune for changing how i look at omegaverse forever.

tag list!: @startcarvingdarling @osamucide @lorelune @flametrashira @icy-spicy

@chuuminn @fyodior @pastelle-rabbit @katsulock @dorotheasdiary

@yinyuedijun @strawberrystepmom

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Dreams of Love - A No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: Made it a Hughie and Annie baby. Named it Joel because I’m hilarious and Annie would sooner eat glass than name her son Billy.

Chapter Title from She’s Got A Way by Billy Joel

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary/Warnings: Request from my love @deansbbyx ! You and Ben have to babysit. Takes place ten months post-series.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, Ben being old, Dad Ben, pre-established relationship, so much horniness (would we expect anything less?)

“Where the hell did Annie get a baby from.”

You sigh, giving Ben a flat look. “Her vagina, Benjamin. That’s where most of them pop out, you know.” 

Ben scowls, shooting you a glare that really only makes your whole body warm and soft. “Shut the fuck up, brat, you know what I meant-“

“I don’t think I did, Pretty Boy. I think you need to start explaining where you think babies come from-“

You’re cut off as Ben pulls you right to his chest, dropping his brow to yours with a smirk.

“You know damn well that I know where babies come from, Sunshine.” He drawls, and he’s really warm, and he smells so good, and his muscles are flexing around you, and his keeping his mouth just far enough away that you can’t kiss him but God you want to-

Ben-

You need something, darling? Need me to fuck you dumb right here, fill you up with my cock and remind you how fucking good we are at baby making? 

You swallow, unable to tear your gaze away from his darkened, lust-blown eyes. He’s starving for you, and you can feel it everywhere—you can’t even tell where your own thirst for him begins and his hunger for you ends—but you cannot have sex right now. There just isn’t the time, and it’s not like Ben’s going anywhere, but fuck, he’s so handsome and he’ll taste like strawberries and maple syrup from breakfast, and you can feel how hard he is, pressing against your thigh-

“MM’s going to be here soon,” you whisper, fidgeting with the collar of Ben’s shirt to give your fingers something to do that isn’t wrapping around Ben’s dick. “And Ryan needs to go to school. I can drive him if you-“

Ben rolls his eyes, pressing a quick kiss to your brow before rising back up to his full height. “You’re not fucking driving. I’ll take Ryan, you get the Campbell baby.”

“But-“

He drawls your name, raising his brows. “You really fucking think MM is going to leave a fucking baby with me.”

“Yeah, I do.” You raise your chin slightly, holding Ben’s vaguely amused gaze. “He doesn’t hate you anymore-“

“Doesn’t matter if he still wanted to cut my fucking dick off or not, you’re the only one he’s leaving it with.”

 “It had a name, Ben.” You say, wrapping your arms around his torso and leaning your chin on his chest. “And I’m sure MM would leave Joel with you if I ask him to.”

“But you’re not going to ask,” Ben says your name with a shrug, half picking you off the floor and cradling your head with one hand. “I’m bringing Ryan to school, you’re taking the baby. That’s it.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “What if I promise you a blowjob to trade?”

He snorts, the radiance in his body bursting along your ribs. I’d get that blowjob anyway. 

What if I promise breeding kink sex?

His eyes narrow. You think you’re real fucking smart.

I do. You smile at him, playing with the hair on his beard as you sway slightly in his arms. You say I am all the time. You call me clever, and beautiful, and perfect. And if you like me now, imagine how amazing I’d be when you fucked me good enough for to put a baby-

You win. Ben’s hand tightens on your waist, his eyes flash, his hunger almost explodes through his body, and it’s all the warning you get before his mouth is crashing down to yours. Your silent words are cut off with a deep growl from Ben’s chest as he walks you backwards to the kitchen counter, his hand tugging at your hair to deepen the kiss. Your lips part with a moan that Ben swallows, and you’re scratching at his back as he shoves a knee between your legs, and fuck, he’s so good-

Such a needy fucking brat. He mutters in your head, and you can only grind against him. You are fucking perfect, you’re a goddamn miracle, but that smart fucking mouth, Ben hums against your lips, starting to kiss a wet, sloppy line down your neck. It’s a fucking marvel, Sunshine. Going to fucking kill me, how goddamn beautiful you are, all fucking dumb and pretty when I touch you-

Fuck- You whine when he starts to suck on that one spot near your throat, and he chuckles against your skin. God, Ben-

Words, darling, use that smart mouth to beg-

Please, Benjamin, you ass-

You squeak as his hand pins you against his knee, and he draws back, scanning over your open, desperate expression with a wide smirk. 

“Hi, Sunshine.” He drawls, tipping your chin back with a careful hand, and you might be drooling. 

He’s so fucking handsome. It’s really not fair. This life looks painfully good on him, where all his love is still hot and bloody and focused in your body, but the resolve to hold you is just to hold you. There are no threats that you’d need protection from, but Ben’s still shielding you just a little all the time because that’s what he does. He loves and cares about you so violently you’d be worried he offers you too much, but all he’s ever asked for in return is this. Is you, already a little dazed from his hand dragging circles on the skin of your hips, your mouth hanging open as you take in his messy hair and relaxed expression. Everything in him glows when he presses his thumb on your lower lip and you moan, and when he leaves a small, almost chaste kiss on the space between your eyes the fire under your skin starts to push up, and you’re smoking, and he’s just grinning at you like a dick-

“You’re so fucking perfect, beautiful.” He mutters, and you don’t know why he’s not just fucking you. “When I get you alone again, you’re going to cum on my hands, then my face, then my cock when I fill you up. You’re going to feel me for fucking days, darling, and everyone will know that I always fuck you properly when you sit down at a meeting and fucking whine like a goddamn brat.”

You have a small, breathless speech in your head that’s mostly a plea of you are alone, right now, and it’s not possible for Ben to make you feel it for days, but God, you’d like to see him try, but you don’t get the chance to say it. You stare at Ben’s smug grin for a long second, taking steady breaths to try and regain just a little bit of control over your brain—which right now seems to only remember how to say Benjamin, please—and Ryan walks into the kitchen with his backpack and nervous, quick words.

“Ben, I lost my notebook-“ Ryan’s eyes widen at the scene before him—Ben still holding you on his knee, your whole body slack under his touch and very obvious, slightly glowing smoke rising from your skin—and he freezes in the doorway. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- I’ll just go wait in the car-“

“Stay here, kid.” Ben helps you down, pressing one last, gentle kiss to your brow before turning his attention to Ryan. “Car’s not started yet, and your notebook’s under the couch.”

Ryan frowns. “How did it-“

“Shoved it there last night.” Ben grunts. His voice is really deep. His arm is still around you. He smells like pine and coffee and that earthy, salty thing that’s just Ben-

“Oh.” Ryan nods slowly. “Was it- I’m-“

“Don’t fucking apologize. It wasn’t in the way, I just had to do all the damn baby proofing-“

That snaps you out of it.

“You were baby proofing?”

Ben frowns down at you, something slightly sore wrapping over his skin. “Of course I was fucking baby proofing, I’m not going to let the damn thing just fuck around the house and die-“

You let just a little bit of your own, raw and infinite love leak into Ben’s body, rising up to press a kiss right over his beard and humming against his skin. Thank you, Benjamin. That was sweet.

I am not fucking sweet-

Of course not, Pretty Boy. What was I thinking. Your smile is wide and unrestrained as you lean back, holding Ben’s face between your hands. I love you.

I love you too, Sunshine. He rolls his eyes, dragging one of your hands to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I’ll get your notebook, Ryan. Go put on your shoes.”

“Okay.” Ryan bounces on his feet, looking between you and Ben with an open, anxious expression. “Is- Are Hughie and Annie bringing Joey here?”

“They’re on their honeymoon,” you explain, Ben scowls, and you shoot him a flat look. “Which someone is being a grumpy asshole about.”

“It’s fucking bullshit.” Ben grumbles, guiding you out of the kitchen. “We’ve been married for ten goddamn month and haven’t gone on our honeymoon. Why the hell do those pussies get to go first.”

“They’re not going first, Ben, they just actually planned their wedding instead of doing it spontaneously in a field-“

Ben rolls his eyes. “If we do that proper wedding shit, will you finally take some time off so I can fuck you on a beach?”

You flush, whacking Ben’s chest as Ryan looks around absent-mindedly, pretending not to hear. Benjamin-

The kid is used to it, Sunshine-

He shouldn’t be- 

He’s fine. I think he’s got bigger fucking problems than me loving you like you deserve-

But-

“Ryan.” Ben grunts, tucking you a little further into his side and ignoring your death glare. He’s lucky you can’t burn his face off anymore. “You got an issue with me telling her I’m going to fuck her?”

“I, um- no?” Ryan shrugs, frowning at the air. “I guess I tune it out now, just because you do it kind of a lot and I- I dunno, I just expect it. Sorry-“

“Don’t say sorry, kid. You did good.” Ben shoots you a smug look, bright, hot pride inflating in his chest. You’re going to strangle him, then make out with his stupid, handsome, cocky face. “Shoes.”

Ryan nods and wanders to the door, and Ben looks so fucking proud of himself.

Benjamin William- 

You barely get out your shared last name before Ben’s squeezing your hips, pulling you up into a long, open-mouth kiss that makes you moan loud and soft, your body molding right into his. Never should’ve told you my middle name, brat. 

Could be worse. You mumble, smiling against his lips. I could tell Butcher. 

He pulls back with narrowed eyes. You won’t.

Test me, Benjamin-

You tell Butcher, I’ll… Ben trails off between your heads, and you can feel a wired spike in his heart when he realizes he doesn’t have any believable threats anymore. 

You’ll what? You raise your brows, giving him an overly sweet pout. Fuck me dumb? Make me beg? Throw me around until I’m a whiny, horny mess for your cock-

He slams back into you, hauling your body into his arms without even a stuttered breath and carrying you to the couch. 

Christ on a fucking cross, Ben mutters your name between your heads, lowering himself to his knees before you as he kisses you back into the cushions. You’re so fucking perfect.

His tone is entirely reverent, so sincere it might kill you, and the pure devotion and fervor of his love in your body is enough to drive you mad.

Ben- His hand trails up your thigh, and you’d be embarrassed by your loud moan if it didn’t make Ben groan into your mouth, everything in him sparking and flaring. Fuck-

Later, Sunshine. He tips your chin back slightly, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth right before he pulls away. “Stay here until I get home.”

You hum, taking his hand from your cheek and twisting his wedding ring around his finger with a small smile. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

He chuckles, leaning into one last, soft kiss before rising to his feet. “Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, darling. Tell me when MM drops off the kid.”

Tell you on the what, Benjamin?

I’m not fucking saying it.

Please?

You give him your sweetest smile, squeezing your hand on his knee and leaning into his touch, and he groans.

Smart fucking brat. He mutters, moving his hand back to tangle in your hair and tugging slightly, just enough to make your head tip back. Tell me on the Ben’o’phone, and I’ll fuck your mouth and cunt real good when I get home.

Deal. Thank you.

Don’t. He grumbles between your heads, but even as his hand leaves yours you can feel the power of his love, the rough affection that’s settled deeply and comfortably into his chest. “You think we’ve got all the shit-“

“MM’s going to bring most of it. And,” you nod to the floor, and Ben turns with a frown. “I bought a play pen. We can keep it after. For later. When I get that promised fucking.”

You see Ben’s hands curl into fists, he stands a little taller, and fuck, you’re right at eye level with his bulge but Ryan really does need to go to school-

“I can’t believe Annie and Hughie got a fucking baby before we did.” He mutters, glaring at the play pen. “It’s a goddamn travesty-“

“Travesty.” You hum, looking up at him with a wide, teasing smile. “Big word, Pretty Boy-“

“Shut up.” 

Ben turns back to you, taking your face between big, warm hands and scanning over your features with a narrowed gaze. You can feel something wound tightly in his chest—slightly molding and almost painful—so you grab his wrists to keep him against you, and give him your widest, realest smile. The smile that’s for Ben, and Ben only.

It’s always really just Ben.

You know I fucking adore you. He says between your heads, his voice low and rough. Love you more than the goddamn universe, Sunshine, you’re my whole goddamn life. You know that.

I think you’ve mentioned it. You hum, leaning into his touch. And I love you too, you massive cunt, so say what the fuck you mean.

Ben lets out a dry snort as you drop your voice into a mocking impression of him on those last words, shaking his head slightly. Christ, darling. You’re fucking-

Perfect, I’m aware. Please, Ben-

You don’t need to ever do anything you fucking hate with me. He grunts, his body suddenly made only of fervorish, protective stone. I got you and Ryan, and that can be my world for the rest of my goddamn life, and I’d be good. If that caped fucking pussy knocked the idea of a baby out of your head forever, I’m not going to-

Ben. You cut him off with soft but firm words, holding his gaze. We don’t lie to each other.

Of course we fucking don’t-

So when I say that one day soon, I want to do this, you nod to the play pen. With you, believe me. Please.

His jaw twitches, and the wrathful care in his body doesn’t vanish, but it never does. It only moves back peacefully into your bones as Ben slowly nods. You’re sure.

Positive. Go bring Ryan to school before I do.

Ben rolls his eyes, leans down to kiss the top of your head, and half-stomps out the door.

He’ll be back soon. And—though he’ll never get you to say it aloud—you’ll wait right here until he does. Where everything still smells like pine, and you’re molded into the couch right where Ben put you, and you can smile at the play pen like a dumbass until the doorbell rings. 

You know it MM before you open it, because Ben just walks in wherever he wants—including into offices he definitely should not be walking into and meetings you’re supposed to be focusing on—and everyone in the neighborhood seems to know that’s Soldier Boy and the Anomaly’s house, so after the Homeowners Association incident, nobody really bothers you that much. 

It would be lonely if you didn’t already have a Ben, a Ryan, a Butcher—friend was too generous for the asshole, but he was unfortunately an indisputable part of your life—and friends.

Because when you open the door, it is MM on the other side, and he looks tire and pissed but still happy to see you. You can feel it—during your brief, tight hug—that there’s a heavy exhaustion under his skin and over his muscles, but there’s nothing but relieved affection for you to be here. 

“This kid,” MM mutters as you pull apart. “Has fucking lungs.”

You smile, following him out to the still-running car. “I know, I’ve heard them. Annie told me to buy Ryan earplugs.”

“Smart.” MM leans into the car door, pulling out the car seat and probably saying more things, but you don’t really hear them because that’s a baby. A baby baby. A barely popped, wispy haired baby that looks so much like a shrunken down version of Hughie it’s a little disturbing.

And you’ve met him before. You were there when Annie had her pre-mature birth, doing what Ben had called more work than the damn nurses and stopping Annie’s bleeding with a press of your hand to her legs a brief rush of pain between your thighs. 

MM had told you Ben had doubled over with a roar in the lobby, and you’d seen the evidence of it when you’d rejoined him and there was a large hole in the wall. But Annie had been okay, Hughie had given you a tight hug that could’ve left a bruise if that was something your body could do, and the baby had been healthy. 

You hadn’t wanted to hold him, nerves building in your throat about what feeling the emotions of a baby could even do. Annie had told you that it would be fine, and half-shoved Joey into your arms.

And now—just like then—you can feel nothing but soft, humming peace from tiny Joel Campbell in your arms. There’s no bloodied pain or freezing fear, nothing rotten in his chest or throat or head. He’s just a little fuzzy because you’re not Annie, but it’s a brief distress that fades when you start to hum and the whole world grows perfectly warm.

They’re here. Your words are soft down your connection to Ben, and he flares slightly in your chest.

Good. Ryan’s off, I’ll be back soon. Don’t fucking move.

You smile to yourself, and MM must realize that you’ve moved yourself into a trance, because he doesn’t try to talk to you until you’re settled back inside with Joey carefully in your arms, and all of Annie’s baby supplies are piled near the door.

“You think your old motherfucker is ready for this?”

You snort. Ben’s so ready you’re probably going to spend the next month after this trying to pry him off of you. “He is. He baby-proofed the house.”

MM grunts, scanning around the living room. “I’m guessing the asshole wants one?”

You might be smiling like an idiot. “You have no idea.”

“I think I can live with that.” MM mutters, giving you an odd look. “And- If I’m out of line tell me to shut it and I will, but can you even do that?”

You sigh, trailing one finger softly over Joey’s cheek. There’s something in that silent, happy hum you feel from him that really seems like Annie.

You wonder if your baby would look like Ben and feel like you, or look like you and feel like Ben. 

“I can if I want.” You say, shaking your head at MM’s look of confusion. “Don’t ask.”

He raises his hands in agreement, nodding to Joey in your arms. “Do you? Want one?”

“I do.” You whisper. “I always did, before, and then Home-“ You swallow. You still don’t like saying his name. He doesn’t deserve for his name to be said, not where Joey can hear it. “Then he, he did everything, and it didn’t seem like a thing I could ever do. But now...”

You trail off, and MM nods.

“What changed?”

You look up with a soft smile. “Do you really want me to say it?”

He sighs, running a hand over his face. “That old asshole must have a fucking genie who owes him one or something.”

You only hum, because it’s not really useful to explain that Ben doesn’t need a genie. He’s just Ben, and he’s everything, and you love him. “Maybe. I think he’s going to be amazing at this.”

“Of course you do.” MM mutters. “Where the hell is he?”

“Dropping Ryan at school.” You say, lowering your voice to whisper to Joey. “He’s bringing us back chocolate.”

“How the hell do you know-“

“He always brings me back something. And he’s that way,” you wave a vague hand over your shoulder, where you can sense Ben moving around miles away. “So he’s getting chocolate.”

When you look up, MM’s gaping slightly. “He always brings you something?”

“Of course he does. He thinks it’s an apology for leaving me.”

“Leaving- Motherfucker.” MM sighs, shaking his head. “It’s a good thing you two idiots can’t die without each other. You’re already so goddamn annoying.”

You can’t disagree with that. Not when—a few hours after MM leaves—Ben pushes through the door with a box of those fancy fucking chocolates you love, Sunshine, and lowers to his knees before you, staring at Joey in your arms.

“Hughie makes a tiny fucking baby.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Don’t bully the infant, Ben-“

“I’m not bullying him, I’m bullying his father. Hughie’s a fucking adult, he’ll live.” Ben rises up to kiss your brow. “You look real damn good with a baby in your arms, darling.”

You smile at him, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. Keep it in your pants, old man.

For the damn baby I will, but I promised you a proper fucking, Ben drawls your name between your heads, shooting you a wink. Going to have you begging for my cum in your mouth, on your tits, in that pretty fucking pussy-

Benjamin. You give him a stern look, even as the deep sound of his voice in your mind, the sight of him grinning at you, and the hunger in his body settle deep in your stomach. Not when I’m actively holding the child.

He rolls his eyes, but drops at your side on the couch and kisses your temple. Fine.

Thank you. You lean your head on Ben’s shoulder, letting him tuck you against his side, his hand tracing slow patterns on your arm as you start to hum, soothing Joey fully to sleep.

And you could’ve stayed like this for a lifetime. Ben’s content—you can feel it, feel how deeply and easily settled he is at your side—this is so simply peaceful, and you have no desire to disturb the static, colorful feeling you get from Joey, so you could’ve died here.

But Joey shits his pants, because that’s what babies do.

And You really don’t want to move. 

MM left some things by the door, can you please-

You don’t need to finish the sentence before Ben’s moving, marching to the hall to grab the diapers and pushing the coffee table to your knees when he returns. You change Joey there—it’s a flat surface, you cleaned it that morning, and Ben had laid out a towel—before settling back onto the couch, and that’s most of the day. Joey’s hungry, Ben grabs the bottle and you feed him. Joey’s never cold—you and Ben are walking furnaces—but he seems a little uncomfortable, so Ben grabs a blanket Annie left and you swaddle. Joey shits himself again, and Ben marches upstairs to run a sink bath.

He hangs over your shoulder every second. And there are no grumbled suggestions or thoughts about Joey, only normal conversations about work and TV and Ryan and dinner. Nothing feels different, and the solid, pious care and love you feel from Ben is no stronger than normal. It’s aimed right at your heart and golden and warm in your body, but that’s just Ben. That’s how he loves you. 

The only change is something softer—lining over his head and lungs—that glows when you catch him glancing at Joey in your arms. When you settle back on the couch with a sleepy, clean baby, and Ben pulls you half into his lap, resting his chin on the top of your head. You waste the afternoon like this. Watching TV with Ben everywhere around you, Joey asleep in your arms and nothing really that worrying in the world.

When your phone rings, you almost don’t want to answer it. But it’s Butcher, and if you ignore him he’ll come to your house, so you sigh and pick up the call.

“Butcher,” you whisper, and Ben’s arms tighten around your body. “Please tell me this is important.”

“You wound me.” Butcher’s voice is filled with mock offense through the speaker as he says your name. “I ain’t ever bothered you for no reason-“

“One time you called me to say Ben lost his pen.”

“And he was tearin’ up the bloody office, so I needed you to work your fuckin’ sex magic on the Gov before he hurt ‘imself. Always got a reason, love, you should well fuckin’ know that.”

I can’t hurt myself. Ben grumbles in your ear, obviously eavesdropping. Only person who can hurt me is you-

Romantic, my love. Shut up. “Butcher, if this is a work thing you have to call MM, Ben and I both have the day off-“

“‘Fraid MM ain’t able to help with this one, love. I got Secretary Campbell ‘ere, and he ain’t leavin’ until he speaks to Mr. and Mrs. American Dream.”

“Stop calling us that, it doesn’t even make sense.” You sigh, glancing at Joey in your arms. “What does he want?”

Apparently, Singer’s Defense Secretary is trying to get you and Ben to donate some DNA again. And you’d send Ben to deal with him, but you’re pretty sure that would end with a dead Campbell and another year half on the lam for you. So you sigh, tell Butcher you’ll be there soon, and hang up.

Ben mutters your name, keeping you steady in his lap. “I can fucking handle this-“

“No, Ben, it’s okay.” You lean back on his shoulder, giving him a soft smile. “You watch Joey, and I’ll pick up Ryan on my way back.”

“You shouldn’t fucking drive-“

“I’ll go slow. And be careful-“

Ben scoffs. “You’re never fucking careful-“

“Yes, I am. I will be. Just take Joey-“

“No, I’ll fucking deal with Singer’s lapdog, and you’ll keep the baby-“

“Benjamin.” You snap, and he shuts his mouth with a glower. There’s something sore over his whole body, but it’s rooted in his hands. Itching and heavy and tense, tight around his throat-

You frown, tilting your head at him, and softening your voice between your heads.

Are you okay?

I-

And remember I can feel you, Ben. You raise your brows, shifting in his lap to fully face him. Are you worried about the baby?

I’m not fucking worried, he grunts your name, hands tightening on your body. I don’t want to you leave, Sunshine, is that a goddamn crime-

No. You kiss him, quick and sweet, and rise from his hold. But I do have to go. I’ll put Joey in the travel crib, and you can Ben’o’phone me if you need help.

Or you could fucking stay-

You’ll be fine, my love. I’ll be back soon.

——————

Ben wasn’t watching TV. It was on, in the background, but he couldn’t goddamn focus on it. 

There was a fucking baby in the room. It wasn’t bigger than his forearm, it kept making small baby sounds, and if Ben looked away from the crib for one goddamn second he was pretty fucking certain something would go wrong. The ceiling would fall and Ben wouldn’t be quick enough to throw his body over it. He would be quick enough, but he wouldn’t be careful and he’d crush the baby. The baby would shit, and he’d have to change the diaper. It would start throwing lightning bolts like its mother, and Ben would have to figure out what the fuck to do. It would be hungry, and Ben didn’t have tits. 

The ceiling would not fall. This whole house had been supe-proofed, because all of them still had nightmares that set off their powers, when Ryan and Ben it could—according to Her—cause permanent structural damage, and Ben needed to be able to fuck Her however he pleased without worrying about everything breaking around them.

Ben would not crush the baby. He wasn’t some weak fucking pussy who couldn’t control his strength after damn near 80 years.

If the baby took another shit, Ben could change a diaper. He wouldn’t fucking like it, but it was just shit and piss. He’d been covered in guts and blood and brains, shit and piss was nothing. Even if that thing took some of the biggest shits Ben had seen in his very long life.

According to Her and Frenchie, mainstreamed V wasn’t hereditary. It didn’t fundamentally change the users DNA or some shit, so Annie and Hughie’s baby would always just be a normal person. Ben wasn’t really sure, because somewhere in the conversation someone had said what if they had a baby and pointed to Her and Ben, and he’d gotten distracted. 

If it got hungry, She’d shown Ben how formula worked, and he’d figure it out. He’d do whatever the hell he needed to in order to prove to Her that they could have a baby. If they had a baby, Ben would fucking kill it.

Not the baby. He’d kill taking care of a baby. He’d feed and change and tend to it—just like he did with Her and Ryan—and it would be fucking disgusting and boring as shit, but he’d goddamn do it if he could have a baby. 

And he didn’t know exactly what the hell had changed in forty years that men were expected to change diapers, but he’d change a million diapers for Her. He’d throw himself into the Sun and bury himself alive for Her. He’d watch something called How to Train You Dragon for Her. He’d fucking cook for Her—she sure as hell couldn’t do it herself, and Ben would be damned if he let his wife starve—and he’d read a fucking book just to make Her smile. 

Changing a diaper—if that made Her happy as well—was fucking nothing.

So when Joey started wailing—about twenty minutes after She’d left—Ben was fucking ready. He’d been studying all the shit She’d been doing, and this kid wasn’t going to know what the fuck hit him. Annie and Hughie would get him back in better condition, and Ben would be a goddamn hero.

But the baby didn’t want food. And its diaper was clean. 

The only thing that seemed to make it stop was when Ben held it. Cradled it in his arms and rocked it back and forth, sitting back on the couch because every time he tried to put the little fucker down, it would start screaming again. 

Ben didn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to a real baby. He’d seen this one in the hospital after Annie popped it, and a few times after, but he’d never really held it. Annie had offered once, and he’d taken it, but it hadn’t been like this. Where Joey was curled into Ben’s chest and Annie wasn’t bouncing on her feet to take it back. 

This was peaceful. Quiet. The TV humming in the background and Ben just fucking holding a baby. A baby that was happy to be in his arms, and didn’t fit perfectly because it wasn’t Ben’s baby, but was still a damn baby.

Happy. With him holding it.

Something became clear in his head. It had never been fogged or covered, but it was sharp now. Right in reach and touchable, more than just a fantasy or daydream. 

Ben fucking wanted this. And he could really fucking have it. He’d seen Her look at Joey, and She’d sworn she’d want this as well. She’d said She’d want it with Ben.

And he could see it. Ben could almost physically fucking see a baby that had Her eyes and hair and whole perfect face, and would grab Ben’s nose and fucking break it. Any kid She and Ben had would be a supe—as far as Ben understood it—and they would be the strongest one yet. Ryan would help them learn to control the strength, and he’d never fucking worry about being loved less, because as far as the baby would know, Ryan would be their damn brother.

It would be smart like Her and Ryan. The kid would be talking in three months—or something, Ben didn’t know when babies usually started talking—and do all the fucking school shit, then chose to do good things because they would be Her kid, and everything She did and touched became fucking good.

And She’d be the best goddamn mother. She already was, with Ryan, and this would just be more. More annoying parents for Her to threaten, another person for Her to teach shit to, and another piece of evidence for Her to have that Ben couldn’t love Her more if he tried. Another way for Ben to show Her that She, Ryan, and now the baby were the only things in the whole damn universe that mattered.

He could see it. Her padding around the house in Ben’s shirt, holding their baby in one arm and a phone in the other. Hissing incredibly graphic threats at a congressman while smiling at the baby, sometimes dropping Her voice to coo to the kid when She was between calls.

“You know.” She said, swaying slightly in place as she mumbled to the child. Their child. That was Ben’s fucking child. “If that asshole doesn’t listen to Mommy, she’s going to let Daddy yell at them. And Daddy can be scary.”

Ben frowned, but he couldn’t quite move or speak, She didn’t see him there, and when She kept talking any protests of him being ‘scary’ vanished into the air.

“I know that crazy to you, because Daddy isn’t scary.” She set Her phone down on the counter, devoting Her entire attention to the infant in her arms. “He’s just big and grumpy. Like an ancient teddy bear.”

The kid made a soft, babbling sound, and Ben really wanted to hear it again. Especially as a tiny fist shot up, wrapped around Her finger, and she smiled as it babbled again.

“You’re right, he can be a bit of an asshole. Isn’t that right, my love?” 

Ben could suddenly move, and he was walking forwards. Moving to Her side and pressing a kiss to Her brow. “Smart fucking mouth, brat.”

“You love it.” She hummed, leaning into him as She kept speaking to the baby. “He loves it.”

Ben did love it. He loved how fucking happy She was, how easy this felt, and how—when Ryan called from upstairs for homework help—She passed the baby into Ben’s arms without a thought and walked away. 

And that was their fucking kid. And it had sharp eyes that were scanning over Ben’s face a little hazily, realizing that Ben wasn’t Her, and then almost squealing as it realized that he was Ben.

It reached up for him, and fucking Christ, the thing was happy to see him. It was making cute fucking sounds and squeezing his finger, and not a single fucking pussy would ever be allowed to hurt it. Ben would do whatever the hell it took to keep the kid this peaceful, to make it always this happy to see him, to make it so that She and Ryan would have the family they deserved, and Ben could just fucking love them for the rest of goddamn time-

“Ben. Wake up.” A gentle, perfect hand trailed over his face, and he’d fallen asleep. 

He blinked his eyes open to find Her standing between his knees above him, and soft smile playing on Her lips.

“Good dream?”

Ben caught Her hand in his own, pressing a kiss to Her knuckles as he blinked away a little more sleep. “You don’t have a fucking clue.”

She hummed, glancing at Joey, still in his arms. “I think he likes you.”

“He likes that I’m warm-“

“The blanket was warm.” She shrugs. “He likes you.”

Ben grunted. He wouldn’t win this argument, and he knew better than to try. “Where’s Ryan?”

“In his room.” She said, dropping at Ben’s side and smiling at Joey. “We’ve been home for a few hours.”

“A few- You’ve been home hours-“

“Voice down, Benjamin.” She mumbled, leaning Her head against his arm. “And you both looked peaceful. I liked it.”

Ben smirked. Were you watching me sleep, Sunshine-

Yes, I was. And you watch me sleep all the fucking time, Pretty Boy, so shut it.

He chuckled, kissing the side of Her head, and they stayed there until Ryan shuffled down the stairs, stopping behind the couch and staring at Joey in Ben’s arms.

“He’s really small.” Ryan whispered, and Ben coughed to cover his laugh.

“He’s a baby, Ry.” She said, kicking Ben’s shin as She smiled up at Ryan. “We were all that small once.”

“I was never this small.” Ben muttered. “I was a big fucking baby, and you probably were as well, kid.”

Ryan’s eyes widened, and She scoffed.

“How big were you, Benjamin.” She narrowed Her eyes. And don’t say you’re still big now.

Don’t need to say it, Sunshine, you know better than damn anyone that I’m big. Ben winked at Her, smirking at her pretty flush as he continued.  “I don’t fucking remember exactly, brat, it was a hundred goddamn years ago-“

She snorted. “So you might have been this tiny-“

“I fucking wasn’t-“

“You could’ve been.” She stuck Her tongue out at him, light dancing in Her eyes. “We’ll never know.”

Ben rolled his eyes, brat, and pulled Her into a long, slow kiss with his free hand, going until She was sighing into his mouth and slumping over his body-

She pushed off Ben’s chest, and something was radiant and zealous in his chest when She leaned back to look at Ryan, and there was an almost drunken smile on Her face.

“Do you need help with more homework-“

“No,” Ryan shook his head, glancing back to Joey. “I- I’m just hungry, but if you’re busy-“

Ben’s brow furrowed. “We look fucking busy, kid?”

“Uh, no?”

“Then it’s dinner.” Ben grunted Her name. “You want ravioli.”

She gave him a wide, toothy smile, Her voice oddly soft. “Yes, please.”

“Ryan-“

“That sounds good.” Ryan nodded slowly, taking a nervous step back. “I- I’ll go wait in my room- And-“

Ben frowned. “You finished your homework?”

Ryan nodded again, and Ben moved to his feet with Joey still carefully in his arms. 

“Stay in here, kid. It’ll be easier to get you.”

“No- I- It’s okay-“

“Ryan?” She twisted fully in Her seat, a gentle frown on Her face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just- I don’t-“ Ryan swallowed, bowing his head slightly. “Joey looks really fragile. I don’t- What if I break him?”

She tensed at Ben’s side, and Ben could fucking feel Her aching distress. Feel the presence of Her around his head tightening and spinning, see the sadness all over Her pretty face—almost perfectly matching Ryan’s—and Ben needed to fucking fix this.

“Hold the baby.” 

Ben walked around the couch to put Joey into Ryan’s arms, and the kid just fucking gaped at him.

“But- But I could-“

“You won’t.” Ben snapped, and Ryan shook his head.

“He’s so small, Ben.” He whispered. “And I- I could hurt him.”

“When was the last time you broke something.”

Ryan blinked at him. “What?”

“The last thing you broke on accident, kid.” Ben raised his brows. “When did you break it.”

“I-“ Ryan glanced at Her, but she was just leaning over the back of the couch, tapping Her fingers on the pillows as she watched. “I don’t remember-“

“November.” Ben grunted. “You freaked out during a team dinner and snapped Butcher’s table in half. You’ve had a fuck ton of freak-outs since then, holding shit a lot more delicate than a table, and not a single damn thing has broken. Hold the baby.”

Ryan still didn’t move, only staring between Ben and Joey, and Ben let out a long breath.

“Ryan, do you really fucking think I’d hand you a damn baby if I thought you’d hurt it.”

“N- No-“

“You trust me, kid?”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “Of course I do-“

“Take the fucking baby.”

Ryan finally got it, and took Joey from Ben’s arms with slow, careful hands.

Nothing exploded. The sky didn’t fall. 

And Ryan smiled, his voice filled with awe. “He looks like Hughie.”

Ben smirked. “He really fucking does. Poor kid.”

She frowned from the couch. “Benjamin-“

“Sunshine.” Ben mocked Her tone as he bent down, picking Her up with a grin and laughing when she squeaked. “You’re hungry, beautiful.”

She wrinkled Her nose at him, whacking his chest. “Don’t fucking do that, you asshole-“

I didn’t do a fucking thing. Ben drawled Her name between their heads, his eyes never leaving Her’s as he moved them out of the room. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us, kid.”

“Okay!” Ryan called after them. “I’ll stay with Joey!”

All the mock anger in Her eyes dissolved in a second, Ben leaned down to kiss Her—long and sloppy and heavy—as he set Her on the counter, and when he pulled away, Her smile was fucking perfect.

She was hanging off of Ben’s arm the entire time he made dinner, smiling at Ben like he’d handed Her the fucking moon when it was only damn pasta.

What-

I love you, Benjamin. She whispered between their minds. So much.

Ben kissed Her brow, tracing his thumb over Her cheekbone. Love you too, Sunshine.

You’re really good at this. With Ryan and Joey.

He shrugged. I’ll be even fucking better with Ryan and our kid.

And that was the damn truth. Because Ben could finish dinner and help Her serve, and he could eat around the table with Her and Ryan, but when the baby cried it wasn’t his baby. And there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with Joey—he was adorable, seemed alright for a baby, and Ben would never fucking tell Her, but while She’d been gone Joey had been chewing toothlessly on Ben’s finger and it had been the cutest thing he’d seen in his fucking life—but Ben wanted the kid to be theirs. 

He wanted to set up the TV while She and Ryan cleared the plates, let Ryan chose what they were watching for family movie, and have Her sitting on Ben’s lap with their kid in Her arms. Ben wanted to lean over Her shoulder and see sharp eyes blinking up at him, to hear the baby make a bubbly little noise and for it to sound like Her voice.

He wanted Ryan to help put his sibling to bed before shuffling off to his own room, and he wanted to be standing here with Her over the crib—wrapping his arms around Her stomach and swaying back and forth in the dark—as they looked at their baby.

Joey looked so fucking peaceful in there, and Ben could see it again. A future where She’d be just like this, and the baby was really fucking theirs. It’s in a sturdier, bomb-proof crib built by Frenchie, and reaching for Her—because who fucking wouldn’t—and when it made a noise, Ben’s whole fucking world would get a little bigger.

I want one. Ben muttered between their heads, pressing a kiss to the side of Her head, and She hummed.

I know, my love. She smiled up at him, and Ben was going to fucking explode. In the dim light—with sleepy eyes and raw fucking love written all over Her perfect features—She’s was always the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. I’m sure I can find one for you.

End Note: Finally gave Ben a middle name. I don’t care what kripke and any future spinoffs say. That’s his middle name now, because it’s the funniest possible option.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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@jsudsgf

[steddieas-shegoes]

i love him on purpose

for @steddielovemonth using red, white, and royal blue for inspiration

rated t | 1385 words | cw: forced coming out | tags: established relationship, secret relationship, royal steve harrington, wayne munson is the president (god i wish)

🔴⚪🔵🔴⚪🔵🔴⚪🔵🔴⚪🔵🔴⚪🔵

The news broke in the middle of the night, long after Eddie had fallen asleep, and just before Steve’s alarm woke him up.

PRINCE STEVEN CAUGHT HOOKING UP WITH FIRST SON EDDIE, ROYAL FAMILY INSISTS ON SECRECY

Every headline is some variation of Steve and Eddie being caught, but there’s no photos. Most articles point to the royal family not wanting to allow it, but they didn’t even know about it.

Steve’s been so careful, much more careful than Eddie. Eddie’s told his best friends and Wayne, who deserves to know when his nephew turned son is getting into things. Especially when the thing he’s getting into is the Prince of England.

Steve doesn’t really have many friends. He has Robin, who is more like a sister to him, and an entire advisory team, publicists, security…

He won’t answer his phone, which means all of those people have probably informed him he is to have no contact with the outside world until they figure out what to do. Eddie doesn’t know what to do.

They talked about hypotheticals, as any young adults in the public eye are wont to do. How they’d handle the press when they come out. How they would handle Steve’s family when they come out.

All under the assumption that they would have control over their coming out.

How naive.

“Ed. I have to give some kind of message here,” Wayne says softly, gently like he knows that Eddie is gonna beg him not to say anything until he hears from Steve. “Silence ain’t gonna win us any favors.”

“I promised he wouldn’t have to do this alone,” Eddie says. “If we make a statement now, I’m just throwing him to the wolves.”

“Not necessarily. Plenty of options with what to say. As long as we acknowledge we’ve seen it, they don’t have to have any other information,” Wayne says. “I’ll follow your lead, kid.”

“I don’t know what the right thing is.”

Wayne pulls him into a hug. This isn’t the first time they’ve had a PR nightmare on their hands, and probably won’t be the last. Wayne’s always been good at handling things just fine.

But this is something Eddie needs to handle. He accepts the comforting hug, then he decides to be brave.

****

“Forcing anyone to come out is disgusting, and the media has done it time and time again. In this case, they took something that should have been up to me, and up to Prince Steve, and made it world news based on a false report of someone seeing us together at an event. Whether we are together romantically or not isn’t up for speculation. We are what we are. We choose how to define that to ourselves, to our loved ones, and maybe someday, to everyone.” Eddie takes a deep breath and looks into the many cameras facing him, trying his best to ignore the reporters anxiously waiting to be able to ask questions. He’s not letting them, but they don’t know that yet. “Respect goes both ways. Pops has always taught me that respect is earned, not freely given. No one in this press room has earned my respect. Until you do, the only news story you can break about me is that I’m disappointed in the way the media has handled this news story. Thanks for your time.”

Eddie leaves the room.

Wayne is waiting for him in his office.

“Proud of ya, son.”

“Thanks.”

“Your boy will be here in four hours.”

Eddie’s jaw drops. “He called?”

“He did more than call. He caused a scene with every secretary in the building. He insisted he needed to speak to me.”

“He could’ve called me,” Eddie is pacing.

“You left your phone in here earlier, remember? He was desperate.”

“Is he okay? Have they made a statement yet?”

“They haven’t. They wanted to see what we’d do first.” Wayne holds Eddie’s phone out to him. “But I think he could stand to hear from ya.”

Eddie steps in to take the phone from him, but Wayne clasps his hand between his, holding tight.

“I can’t protect you from the media forever, but I’ll always stick up for you and your happiness. You know that?”

“Of course I do,” Eddie answers.

“That goes for your Prince, too,” Wayne smirks. “His family’s on thin ice, though.”

****

Eddie talks to Steve on the phone for a few minutes, but Steve’s not alone, and Eddie’s trying not to hide away entirely from everyone who cares about him. It’s a short conversation, but it’s enough to get them through until Steve arrives.

He sounds like he’s being stoic.

Eddie knows he’s struggling.

It takes nearly two hours of security for Steve to actually get to Eddie’s suite.

“Baby,” Eddie says as he pulls Steve into his chest, feeling whole for the first time since he woke up. “It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”

“They’re making a statement any minute now,” Steve says miserably.

“I’m guessing it’s not what you wanted.” Steve shakes his head in response. “That’s okay. We can work with whatever we need to.”

“They wouldn’t let me do it,” Steve explains. “I wanted to do something like what you did. They said I was too emotional.”

“I think you’re just emotional enough. God forbid you show signs of being a human.”

Steve laughs. Eddie smiles.

“Have you eaten? Do you wanna get cleaned up? I know you hate how airplanes make you feel,” Eddie offers.

Steve tightens his grip around Eddie. That’s answer enough.

****

“We sincerely hope the media will understand that making accusations of this nature about a member of the royal family will not go unpunished. Whether it is true or not, we will be handling this discussion internally. We have contacted the President’s office to have a discussion with their team. Eddie’s statement today was not discussed with us beforehand, nor did it go through any of our approval, and should not be seen as our official statement.”

“Does your grandfather always look like someone pissed directly in his eye?” Eddie asks Steve as they watch the official statement from his room.

“It depends on which of us has displeased him,” Steve laughs. “If it’s my mother, his lip curls up over his teeth.”

Eddie pulls Steve into his side on the couch, turning off the television so they can have some peace. They sit in the silence for a couple of minutes, something neither of them get to do very often.

“Wayne offered us the house in Indiana for a bit. Said it might be nice for us to just be away from the chaos,” Eddie runs his fingers up and down Steve’s arm, smiling to himself when Steve shivers against him. “At least for a few days. Let the media move on and give time for your family to get the sticks surgically removed from their asses.”

“That sounds nice,” Steve agrees, leaning his head back to kiss Eddie’s lips. “I wanna do something first, though.”

Steve pulls away so he can get his phone from the coffee table. It’s been on silent and face down since he arrived. He types for a minute, and Eddie waits.

Steve sets his phone down and turns back to Eddie with a grin.

“Okay, ready to go.”

Eddie’s phone goes off in his pocket. He pulls it out and looks down at where he’s been tagged on Instagram in Steve’s post.

It’s a picture from the trip they took with Wayne to Indiana last month, the two of them by a fire with melted marshmallow all over their lips. They’re both happy.

The caption makes tears pool in Eddie’s eyes and a semi-hysterical laugh burst from his throat.

Doesn’t matter who pissed in his eye, as long as I’ve got you. Let’s go off the grid, baby

“You’re gonna be in so much fuckin’ trouble, baby,” Eddie laughs with disbelief.

“I don’t care. They know better than to cause a bigger scene.” Steve kisses the corner of his mouth. “Can we go to that diner when we get there? The one with the burger that have cheese inside the meat?”

“How American of you,” Eddie teases. “I’ll make sure Wayne calls Benny ahead of time so he knows we’re on our way.”

[forwhomthewordsflow]

Lean On Me

modern music teacher!eddie munson x art teacher fem!reader

18+ ONLY MDNI!!!

warnings: minor emergency room situation, injury, fluffy x100, allusions to smut, a lil more coach!steve harrington

author's note: definitely did not write this one clocked in at my desk…i just can’t stay away from these guys.  this is not proofread so please be gentle if there are any mistakes :) also, i’m no medical professional so i’m not exactly sure if this is how one would treat a bruised foot…just go with it. ALSO!!! I had to give our art teacher a last name, and the polls chose 'Ms. Heart.' cute right?

please let me know what your thoughts are on this series!

word count: 3.9k

Ms. Heart🎨: The kids are saying they saw Coach Harrington carrying you out to the parking lot…tell me they’re kidding

Mr. Munson🎸: “Carrying” is an exaggeration…

You see the “Incoming FaceTime Call” notification pop up on the screen of your phone and hurry to shut your classroom door.  Even though it’s nearing the end of the day, and this is technically your planning period, sometimes kids still like to come in and hang out in your classroom.  You had a feeling that Eddie wouldn’t want any students around to hear this call though.

Your anxiety is momentarily forgotten when you see his handsome face on your screen after answering the FaceTime call.  Even after almost three weeks of knowing him, it still surprises you how gorgeous the man is.  You’re focused on the curve of his sexy grin, but you can't help but notice the subtle winces peaking through it.   You can tell he’s in the passenger seat of a truck, Steve’s truck you’re guessing, and your theory is confirmed when the man in question grabs the phone from Eddie’s hands and puts it up to his face.

“Well hello there Ms. Art Teacher!  You’ll never guess what your guy got himself into now–wait a second,” he turns to look at Eddie with an appalled expression ,”Why is your lady’s name in your phone ‘Ms. Heart’?” 

Eddie snatches his phone back from Steve’s hands and can barely hear the sound of you laughing from the other end.  You and him both know that you put your names in each other's phones as your ‘teacher names,’ just in case someone were to see a notification and get suspicious.  You still have yet to go public with your new relationship, and Eddie is counting down the days until he can let everyone know you’re his girl.

“Will you stop calling her ‘my lady’? You sound like a douche.”

Steve lets out a triumphant laugh. “Yeah, right.  This douche is getting laid on the regular pal.  I’ll hear your opinions on my vocabulary when you can say the same.”

Eddie looks back at your face on his screen, noticing how you’re blushing at Steve’s words.  He throws you a wink, just to see your reaction, and he isn’t disappointed.  You turn even redder and throw your free hand over your face to cover your smile.  

Steve’s words don’t bother you exactly, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been devoting a lot of time to thinking about whether or not Eddie cares that the two of you haven’t slept together yet.  It’s not that you don’t want to, of course you want to.  You’ve been wanting to climb that man like a tree since the moment he first spoke to you at orientation.  There just hasn’t been time to even approach that topic with the school year starting and the craziness of it all.  

You and Eddie are smiling bashfully at each other through the screen when he grunts in pain.  The phone shakes at the same time, and you remember that Steve is driving Eddie somewhere.

“Fuck, man.  Can you try not to drive into every pothole you see?”

Steve scoffs, “Yeah sure.  Lemme just swerve around them and into all the other cars on the road.  Then we’d both be injured.”

Both? Both? Meaning one of them already is?

“Eddie?” you ask.  He can tell by the sound of the question that you're on the verge of panic, so he smiles at you through the screen.

“Yes, sweet girl?”  You can hear Steve’s fake gag in the background at Eddie’s use of the pet name for you, but it doesn’t stop the lovesick smile from trying to make its way onto your lips.

Eddie finds it particularly entertaining to try out all the different pet names on you to see which ones will make you blush the hardest.  He says he keeps an Excel spreadsheet so he can track the data…but you’re pretty sure he’s lying.  Okay, maybe 75% sure.

You point a finger at him sternly. “Quit trying to distract me.  Tell me what’s going on please.”  Eddie would have to be a fool to resist your sweet request, so he gives in. 

“There may have been a little incident while I was putting away equipment after 6th period…”

Steve guffaws, “Yeah, I’ll say.  Your man dropped a 40 pound speaker on his foot!”  Eddie’s hand slaps to his forehead with a groan, he had planned on breaking the news a little gentler to you, and perhaps in a way that didn’t make him look like a total idiot.

Your mouth drops in horror, “What?”

Eddie instantly jumps into trying to calm you down, “Honey, it’s really not that bad–”

“–I heard a crunch!”

“Steve!  Please.”

You take a deep, grounding breath.  “Eddie, just talk please.”

Eddie reaches over to smack Steve before speaking.  “Steve was in my classroom because we were planning on moving a couple speakers out to the fields for the game tonight.  The one I was carrying slipped and landed a little bit on my foot, that’s all.”  He tries his best to speak calmly to keep you from panicking, but it’s hard to ignore the throbbing pain in his right foot.  

“Eddie!  Are you okay?  How bad does it hurt?”  You wish you were with him instead of pacing around in your empty classroom. 

“I can barely feel it sweetheart, I’d rate it a three out of ten.”

Steve scoffs loudly, “Okay buddy, that’s not what it sounded like when I was carrying your ass out of school.”

Eddie turns to fix Steve with a glare, “I still had one foot on the ground, dude.  You were not carrying me.”  He turns back to look at your face through the screen, “He wasn’t carrying me.”  

You hear Steve laughing off screen and Eddie rolls his eyes.  You can’t help but to laugh a little too at the absurdity of it all.  “Where are you heading to?”

“We’re going to the ER.  Personally, I think that’s a little dramatic, but mama bear over here…”

Steve passionately chimes in, “It’s important to treat every injury with the same level of seriousness, even the minor ones!” 

“I actually agree with him on this one, Ed.” you say with a soft smile.  Eddie swoons internally.

He’s able to overlook your choice of Steve’s side due to your use of the nickname.  You’ve been a bit hesitant about using pet names with him the way he does with you, but you’ve assured him time and time again that it’s only because you’ve never dated a guy who actually liked any of that stuff before.  You’re working your way up to Eddie’s level of nicknames, and ‘Ed’ has been a recent development in that process.  Eddie loves it.  

“Gimme the phone man,” Steve’s hand juts into the screen expectantly, swiping the phone from Eddie’s grasp.  “Hey Ms. Artsy, do you think you’ll be able to give this guy a ride back home? Our first home game is in a couple hours, and the boys can’t play without their coach.”

You had almost forgotten about the football game tonight.  Your students had been amped up all day long about it, convincing you to help them paint signs to hold up at the game during class time.  You were planning on asking Eddie if he wanted to go, but you weren’t sure how he felt about attending a school event together.  The status of your relationship wasn’t necessarily a secret, but still not very many people knew.  

“Of course I can!  I just have to clean up a bit and I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, teach.” Steve hands the phone back to Eddie, who’s been sulking in the passenger seat because he missed your face. 

You smile at him, “Hang tight, I’ll see you soon okay?”

Eddie smiles, “Okaayyy–!” His voice cuts off in a pained grunt before the call ends, leading you to assume that Steve had once again hit a pothole.  

-

You’re a ball of nerves as you pull in to park outside of the emergency room.  Thankfully, you’re the type of person who keeps their car relatively clean, but that didn’t stop you from doing a once over just to make extra sure there wasn’t any mess.  Why were you so anxious to drive with Eddie?  Maybe the stress from the past hour just has you wound extra tight.

Nervous as you may be, you can’t help but to walk with a bounce in your step as you approach the entrance.  Seeing Eddie is always the highlight of your day, and you couldn’t wipe the growing grin off your face if you tried.  You just hope he isn’t in too much pain, your heart lurches at the thought of him being hurt in any way.

Thanks to impeccable timing, you spot Eddie and Steve walking down the hallway you’ve just entered into.  You notice the papers in Steve’s hands, and the crutches that Eddie is already seemingly irritated by.  Your eyes meet as he looks up, and the crease between his furrowed eyebrows is gone in an instant as a smile lights up his face.  Steve can’t help but smile along as he watches Eddie hobble a little faster on his crutches towards you. 

God, he missed you today.  He loves the color of the top you’re wearing, the way your jeans hug your thighs, the curve of your smile, and he might just love you too, although he probably shouldn’t tell you that part just yet.  

Steve checks his watch for the hundredth time since he and Eddie had arrived at the ER, running a hand through his hair anxiously.  He hands you the papers the doctor gave them with care instructions and pain medication prescriptions before you can even say hello.

“Okay, team.  Kick-off is in thirty minutes, and I gotta jet.”  He looks to you, already in ‘coach’ mode.  “Here are the papers from the doctor, the do’s and don'ts for a bruised foot bone, care instructions, ya-da ya-da.  His prescription can be picked up after 6, there’s a pharmacy around the corner that’s open til 10.”  

You take the papers from him and nod your head, trying to commit all the information to memory.

“Wish me luck guys!”  Steve jogs away, fist pumping the air. “Go Tigers!”

You turn to face Eddie, the both of you wearing matching smiles and shaking your heads at Steve’s theatrics.  You move a bit closer to Eddie, yearning for a hug but not sure if it’s a good idea.

As if he can read your mind, Eddie grins, “Can a hurt guy get a hug? I’m not able to hug you back at this moment but I’ll make it up to you later.”

You step into his space and wrap your arms around his waist, laying your head on his chest and breathing him in.  How does he still smell so good after teaching all day long?  

He rests his cheek on the top of your head, wondering the same thing about you.  How could someone’s hair possibly be this soft and smell this amazing?  This.  This is what he’s been waiting for all day long.  God, you feel so good pressed against him like this.  If he wasn’t such a gentleman, he’d let the stirring of his cock in his jeans distract him from the pain in his foot, but unfortunately the two of you are still standing in the middle of the ER.  

“Shall we?” 

“Yup!” You reluctantly pull away from his warmth and move to his side to walk with him. You notice him holding his black Dr. Marten’s boot by its laces in one of his hands, then you look down to see his right foot, heavily wrapped in tan bandages.  

“Be honest, does it hurt?” you ask as you take his boot from him so that he can have a better grasp on his crutch.

Eddie sighs, hanging his head.  “I mean, it’s definitely throbbing still.”

“Aw, you poor thing.” You reach up to brush a stray curl out of Eddie’s face, and he can’t help but to lean into your touch like a dog when you use that tone of voice.

You hope he’ll let you take him back to your house instead of his own.  The idea of taking care of him and doting on him has you smiling already.  

“Wanna go back to my house?” Eddie feels his ears perk up at the thought of getting to go to your house again. “I can take you back to yours to get some clothes and stuff, but I don’t like the idea of leaving you there alone when you can’t drive yourself.”

Eddie knows he wouldn’t necessarily be alone, but having Steve Harrington as a roommate often feels like living alone.  Not in a bad way of course, it’s just that Steve is rarely ever at home unless he’s with a woman for the night or hungover in the morning.  

“You sure you want me at your place all weekend long?” Eddie’s giving you an out.  He’s fully aware that the two of you haven’t spent the night together before, and the last thing he wants you to think is that he expects anything from you. 

“Why wouldn’t I? We’ll be super lazy together.  We can watch movies, eat junk food, take naps…it’ll be awesome.”  You look up at him with a giddy smile and Eddie knows he would agree to anything you said. 

“Sounds perfect,” he murmurs against your forehead before pressing two kisses there.

“I parked just ahead in the front row, I didn’t want you to have to go very far but I can still pull the car up here if you feel like you don’t want to go that far.  You must be exhausted.”

He feels his chest warm, you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever seen.  “I’ll be fine, baby.  I can make it.”  He has to work hard to focus on operating his crutches and not your sweet smile, it would be very un-cool of him to fall flat on his face in this parking lot right now.

He manages to make it all the way to your car, putting his crutches in your backseat and hopping over to the passenger side.  You make sure to open the door for him, not moving until you’re sure he’s safe in the seat and buckled up.  You hope he doesn’t think your hovering is annoying.

Eddie thinks your hovering is adorably sweet.  

As soon as you get in and start the car, Eddie asks to see your phone.

“Sure,” you fish it from your purse and hand it to him, “Passcode is 0102.  You gonna DJ?”

“Nope, your car, your tunes honey.  I’m just putting in my address so you know where you’re going.”

“I remember where you live, Ed,” you giggle.  “I’ve been to your place before, remember?”

Of course he remembers, you let him cook you dinner twice and both times you fell asleep in each other’s arms halfway through ‘Back To The Future.’  Maybe this weekend you’ll finally be able to finish it.

“Well, alrighty then.  I’m sorry I ever doubted you, my lady.” You laugh at his dramatics and reverse out of the parking space.

“You’d be wise to never do it again, good sir,” you reply in a medieval accent similar to the one Eddie spoke in.  He’s thankful that you’re distracted by navigating yourself out of the parking lot and not able to see the way his face flushes and his jeans tighten around his groin at your reciprocated dramatics.  You’re so hot when you talk nerdy to him.  You’re so hot all the time.

Eddie sits back and takes in the image of you driving, one he’s never seen before.  He chuckles a bit at how proper you’re sitting, back straight and hands at ten and two on the wheel.  

“Ease up, baby.  You’re not being graded right now,” he laughs.

You laugh along, a little embarrassed. “I know, I drive like a dork.”  You look over at him, exasperated.  “I just don’t feel prepared if I’m slouching or driving one handed!  You never know what could happen.”

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like Steve “Mama Bear” Harrington,” he teases.

You scoff and roll your eyes, still smiling.

“Can you put on some music please?  Driving without it weirds me out.”

“Sure,” Eddie chuckles, opening up the ‘Spotify’ app on your phone. “Uh-oh, look who’s in the hot seat now.  Time to take a peek at your ‘On Repeat.’”

You laugh but hold your head up proudly.  “Peek away Mr. Munson.  I’ve got nothing to hide, I am who I am.”

“Yeah we’ll see about that,” Eddie mumbles as he locates the playlist and hits shuffle.  He can’t believe his ears when the opening chords to ‘One Of These Nights” by Eagles play from your speakers.  His head snaps up towards you, and you can’t help but to burst out laughing at the bewildered look on his face.

“You know, I actually feel like a total asshole right now.  This is an amazing song.” He looks at you like he’s proud of you, and your chest feels warmer.

By the time the song is nearing its end, Eddie’s trying to catch his breath from attempting to hit the highest notes and you’re breaking your “ten and two” rule by clutching your stomach because you’ve been laughing so hard that it hurts. 

Eddie vaguely recognizes the next song as a showtune, but doesn’t comment on it because he’s too caught up in you.  

You, still laughing out loud with your widest smile and the setting sun outlining your silhouette in a golden-orange glow.  He can’t believe he’s in your car, that you’re driving him around, the goddess that you are.  You’re ethereal.  Other-worldly.  

You’re starting to look concerned.  

After coming down from your laughing fit, you turn to find Eddie staring at you with a dazed and confused look in his eye.  Being that he’s fresh out of the Emergency Room, you’re instantly a bit concerned for his well being.  

“Eddie?  Are you feeling okay?”

He blinks a few times before responding, “S-sorry, it’s just…you are so goddamn beautiful.”

Will you ever get used to this floaty warm feeling in your chest?  Luckily for you, he says this while you pull your car into his driveway.  You put the car into park, and lean your head back onto the headrest, no doubt sporting a smile that’s as lovesick as you feel.  

You look at him and whisper, “Thank you.”  Shy fingers reach out to take his hand that rests on your center console, and he’s quick to hold on tight.  Without breaking eye contact with you, Eddie brings your hand up to his mouth and presses two warm kisses to your knuckles.  He then uses that hand to pull you towards him, stopping when your faces are only inches apart.  

“Thank you for driving me,” he whispers, unable to look away from your soft lips.  

“You’re welcome,” you sigh, wishing he would just kiss you already. 

Eddie’s loving the effect he has on you.  He notices your chest rising and falling faster, the breathy tone of your voice, the darkness taking over your eyes.  

He finally leans in and presses his lips to yours gently.  This kiss is much softer than your first one, there’s no urgency or tenacity.  This kiss lets you know that there will be many more to come.  You can’t remember a time where you’d been handled any gentler than this.  Eddie’s holding your face like you’re a rare jewel, like you’re priceless and valuable, and he kisses you like he’s trying to worship you.  

It feels like your lips are dancing together, this feels practiced and choreographed and natural.  

You’re so going to fall in love with this man. 

He pulls away after what could’ve been five hours or five seconds, either way it’s far too soon.  Your mouth chases his lips, making him chuckle softly as he drops kisses onto your nose, cheeks, forehead and chin.

You smile, thoroughly enjoying being doted on like this.  

Eddie backs away once and for all, smoothing your hair out of your face with both hands, his smile matching yours.  

“So pretty.”

You blush harder, if it’s even possible, and let out a happy sigh.  

And with both hands on either side of your face, Eddie obviously uses this opportunity to smush your cheeks together so that your lips pucker. 

“Even prettier,” He leans forward and plants one on you, “Let’s get inside, I can hear my bed calling our names.”

He quickly corrects himself when he sees your eyes widen, “F-for a nap!  I’m tired, you’re probably tired.  Nap time.”

Eddie is sure he’s totally mortified you until he spots you trying to hide your bashful smile and pink cheeks as you undo your seatbelt and get out of the car.  Maybe you’d be into more than nap time?  Why the fuck did he call it ‘nap time’?  

You’re an idiot, Eddie.  That’s why.  She’s not going to fuck you while you have a stupid bruised and use words like ‘nap time.’

He’s still shaking his head at himself when you open the passenger door, looking at him expectantly.  Oh that’s right, you’re going to help him hobble to his own front door, because he’s an idiot who dropped a goddamn amp on his fucking foot.

Eddie hits his head backwards on the headrest with a sigh, “I feel so un-cool right now.”

The sound of your laugh eases his pain a little.

“You’ll live.  C’mon, big boy,”  You chuckle, smirking and looking down on him from where you stand outside your car.  

You open the door to the backseat to grab his crutches and your purse, and Eddie starts to question himself as he feels his dick twitch at your use of the new nickname.  Perhaps it’s something the two of you can explore down the line…he needs to stop thinking about sex with you or else he’ll pop a very obvious boner and scare you off.  

A quick recalling of the mental image that’s seared into his mind of Mrs. Bedson, the 57 year old choir teacher, bumping and grinding with the tennis coach at last year’s prom does the trick.  Eugh.  Eddie shivers at the memory.  

You pop back up with his crutches under your arm, reaching your other one down to help him up.  He doesn’t need the help, but he takes your hand anyway because it feels so right to hold it. 

You unlock his front door with his keys, and then the two of you head inside.  After placing your purse on one of the hooks in the entryway while simultaneously toeing your shoes off, you turn to him with a teasing smile.

“Nap time?”

He laughs, “Yeah, yeah.  Nap time.”

TAGLIST:

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[munsonsmixtapes]

Just You and Me: Part Two

On every part of this series, there will be a poll where you can vote whether you want reader to end up with Steve or Eddie or both! This has been so much fun to write and I hope y’all enjoy!

summary: you debut your “relationship at Corroded Coffin’s gig at The Hideout, unknowingly hurting the both of them.

cw: hurt/no comfort, angst, mention of alcohol

part one

Steve is sitting on the couch in your living room while you show him the entire time frame of your “relationship” that you’ve mapped out on a piece of poster board. You put it up on an easel and even got a collapsible metal pointer to really show him how serious you are about the whole thing.

Though, he seems more interested in the bag of potato chips he’s snacking on as opposed to the whole point of why he’s even at your apartment. He knows he’s supposed to be focusing, but how can he when you’re wearing that skirt that drives him crazy? Your legs just look so good and he’s so desperate to run his hands up and down your thighs as he lies on top of you, kissing you until you’re both-

“Steve, hello,” you’re waving your hand in front of his face and he’s quick to snap back into reality.

“Huh?” He asks, still partially in his daze and you snatch the chip bag from his hand and see them down on the coffee table that sits between you, making sure it’s just out of reach for him.

“Focus.“ You hit the pointer against the poster board to try to get his attention, but he’s still got that dreamy look in his eye. You wonder what’s so important that he’s not listening to you. It seems like he’s been in his own head for days.

“Sorry.” Now he feels like a jackass. You’re going through all of this effort and all he’s doing is staring at your body. He brings his focus back to the board and for the first time, he’s actually looking and holy shit, with how much thought you’ve put into this whole thing, it might just work.

“Where is your head today?” Up his ass, apparently. He can’t think about anything except how beautiful you look and it’s fucking with his head.

“I’m sorry. I was just up really late last night.” He’s actually not lying. He couldn’t sleep because of you. Because of this whole thing and how he isn’t exactly sure how it’s going to play out.

“Right, with your flavor of the week?” He hasn’t actually slept with anyone in a long time. He would just keep wishing it was you so he just stopped altogether because he didn’t want to lead anyone.

“Nope, just me and my hand, unfortunately.” He holds up said hand and wiggles his fingers which causes you to grimace.

“Gross.”

“So when does this whole thing start?” He asks, leaning against the couch with his arms sitting along the back.

“Tomorrow night. Corroded Coffin is performing at the Hideout so it’s a perfect opportunity.”

“So, no practice? We’re just going balls deep?” How the hell are you going to pull this off without practice? That makes no sense and no one’s even going to believe you if you can’t be convincing.

“First of all, don’t ever say that again. Second, we’re going to practice right now so just chill out, alright?” You head over to the couch and sit down next to Steve. Your thighs are touching and he can feel the heat from you through his jeans. If things were different, he’d have you straddling his lap, his hands resting on your back as he kisses you until you’re both breathless.

“Practice what?” He asks. Maybe if he actually read everything on your easel, he wouldn’t be so confused.

“Hold my hand,” you tell him and he hates that his cheeks are blushing. He’s held your hand so many times, but this is different. It’s supposed to be romantic, or implying that it is to other people.

His hand slides into yours, fingers intertwining and when he looks up at your face, you’re staring at him like he’s just hung the moon. God, you’re good. You’re acting, right? You have to be. Because if you weren’t and actually in love with him then you wouldn’t even be doing this whole stupid thing.

“You’re a natural,” you tell him with a smile.

“I’m just holding your hand, l/n. It’s not rocket science.”

“Still,” you shrug. “You know exactly what to do.” And he does. You’d never admit it, but his hand feels nice in yours. It’s soft and smooth and the way that his thumb is rubbing back and forth along yours. You almost don’t want to let go.

“Is this it?” Steve asks, still feeling his heart hammer in his chest at the feeling of your hand in his. He’d never tell you how right it feels to him. How he wants to hold your hand forever and never let go.

“No,” You shake your head, your hand reluctantly slipping out of his. You turn your body fully to face him and he mimics you, trying his best to not reach for your hand again. “I was wondering if you’d be comfortable practicing kissing.” Would he be comfortable? He’s only dreamed about kissing you every day for the majority of his life. He’s so ready and trying to not show just how eager he is.

“I’m open to it,” he nods and you bring your legs up onto the couch, crossing them over each other. And once again, Steve mimics you, doing the exact same thing. He watches as you take a deep breath. Could it be possible that you’re just as nervous? That would actually make him feel a whole lot better.

Your hands slowly reach up and grab hold of his face, cradling it gently. He hums at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Is this actually real? Or does this dream just seem so realistic? As soon as your lips touch his, he’s sure that it’s real. And it’s perfect, everything he ever dreamed it would be.

His mouth moves with yours as one hand rests at the back of your head, the other resting on your waist. And of fucking course you’re a good kisser. You’re good at everything. It’s only supposed to be short, but neither of you want to be the first to break away.

So you stay like that for just a little longer. You even go as far as licking into his mouth to deepen it, so close to climbing into his lap, but you refrain. It isn’t supposed to be like this. It’s just practice. But you’re enjoying it way more than you thought you would. So much so that you’re not even thinking about why you’re doing it or Eddie for that matter. All you’re thinking about is Steve and how much you want him inside you.

Steve lets out a moan and you’re quick to pull away, finally pulled back into reality. His pupils are blown wide and his lips are a pretty shade of pink from being kiss bitten. He runs his hands through his hair and god, he’s just so pretty. You’ve always thought that, but especially tonight. You have to pull yourself out of your thoughts, trying to think about Eddie. That’s your main focus.

You don’t like Steve. This was just you getting caught up in the moment. That’s all it is. You just have to make sure that you don’t go that far again so you don’t do something you know you shouldn’t. As long as all of your kisses are around other people, that shouldn’t be a problem.

“How was that?” You ask before rolling your lips into your mouth.

“That was-” Steve cuts himself off, his cheeks turning a bright pink. “That was-I mean, wow.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You’re unsure, but you’re hoping so. He wouldn’t have kissed you for that long if it was bad, right?

“Yes.”

“Well, good. I think we’re going to be convincing.” So you still want to go through with it. Eddie is still your goal. He doesn’t know why he thought that his kiss would make you want to call the whole thing off. Clearly all Steve will ever be to you is your best friend.

The rest of the night is spent role playing different scenarios and acting accordingly. Steve tries his best to play it off like he’s fine, but really, all he wants to do is throw in the towel. He wants to just quit and tell you that you’re on your own because it’s all just hurting too much.

But because he’s just such a great friend, he doesn’t. He can’t. You’ve already gotten this far and now you have to see it through. He also doesn’t want you asking Robin. Partly because he knows Robin can’t lie for shit and partly because he’d just be super jealous. So he’s going to do it and he’s going to do it with a big smile on his face because he doesn’t want to hurt you.

The Hideout is pretty empty when you and Steve show up. This is the usual turn out for a Tuesday night, but you and your friends are going to cheer for the band just like you always do. They’re setting up their equipment on the stage and you and Steve make a beeline for them, you trying to not seem so excited to see Eddie.

He looks so good in his leather jacket, cropped t-shirt, and jeans that hug his body in all the right places. He catches sight of you out of the corner of his eye and cuts his conversation with Gareth short as he hurries over to you.

He jumps off the stage and Steve’s quick to pull you back so you don’t get hurt, trying his hardest not to glare at the guy. That’s one of his best friends and is he really going to be the kind of guy who lets a girl get in between them? No way. Their friendship is way more important than that.

“You made it,” Eddie smiles, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“I always do,” you smile back and Steve doesn’t like the flirty looks you’re giving each other. “And I even brought Stevie to be another one of your cheerleaders.”

Eddie watches the way Steve wraps his arms around your middle, resting his chin on your shoulder. This doesn’t surprise him since you’re always touchy with each other, but this time, it seems different. And when Steve kisses your cheek, he knows it is.

“So, you two, huh?” He asks, pushing hands further into his pockets, balling his fists as he tries his best to hide how upset he is. He always knew this day would come. The two of you are meant for each other and everyone knows it. He just wished he would have had a chance before the two of you made it official. But he supposes that you were always bound to end up together. That’s how that kind of shit always goes for Eddie.

“Yeah,” you nod with a smile, looking up at Steve and Eddie feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest because it’s not him who you’re looking at like that. “For a couple weeks now, wouldn’t you say so, honey?”

“I’d say so,” Steve nods, not even having to try to look lovingly at you.

“Well, I’m happy for you. It was a long time coming.” He’s smiling through the pain, trying his best to pretend like he can’t hear his heart breaking.

There’s a look on his face that you can’t quite make out and you really wish you knew if he was telling the truth. But then again, Eddie is one who’s known for being honest, even brutally so. And you’ve been friends long enough that you expect him to tell you the truth when something is bothering him.

But Eddie would never tell you the truth, not about how he feels about you, anyway. He’s taking that shit to the grave now since you’re with Steve. He excuses himself to head back to the stage to make sure that everything is all set and you’re starting to think that went too well. He really wasn’t even a little jealous?

You and Steve head to the bar and he’s squeezing your shoulder to show you that he’s sympathetic to the situation. Because as badly as he wants to be with you, he really just wants you to be happy in the end even if it’s not with him.

The two of you sip on your drinks, standing even closer to each other than you normally would, feeling the need to touch each other in any way you can to make the whole thing believable. You have to admit that Steve is a much better actor than you had initially thought. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that he was in love with you.

How devastating that would be if he was? You would have felt so horrible for asking him to pretend to be your boyfriend if you knew that was what he was wanting from you all along. That would really make you feel like a dick because how cruel would that have been to make him pretend to be something he’s wanted to be all for the purpose of trying to get the attention of someone else?

You reach up and brush some hair out of Steve’s face and he’s trying so hard to reel back his feelings. He’s been thinking about that kiss since it happened and if he had the balls, he would have asked you if you could price again. He’s desperate for more, so close to pulling you yo the bathroom to have his way with you, fucking you senseless until you completely forget Eddie’s name, Steve’s being the only one to fall from your lips.

You’re nudging him from his fantasy and he’s immediately snapped back to reality. How long was he out? His fantasies seem to be lasting way longer lately, much more real. He’s getting even more pathetic by the second and he’s not sure how much more he can take.

“It's about to start. Let’s go.” You grab him by the hand and he follows you to the front of the stage where you’re beaming up at Eddie who’s at the front of the stage, introducing the band into the mic before going into the first song.

He watches you the entire time, hating how Steve’s got his arms wrapped around you, his chin making a home on your shoulder. He’s filled with more anger than he knows what to do with. Seeing how you’re looking at each other makes him so jealous that he’s so close to diving off the stage and tackling Steve, which he knows is wrong.

Because truly, neither of you are doing anything wrong. You’re just a couple and Eddie was actually counting down the days, trying to slide in before you got together, but he’s too late. And he’s kicking himself for it.

He’s so focused on you and Steve that he’s not even paying attention to what he’s doing. He’s actually not even sure how he can keep up with his bandmates. He’s trying to focus on the lyrics he’s singing. The lyrics he wrote for you and how he feels about you.

You can’t believe how talented Eddie is. How this is what he’s really meant to do. You just know he’s going to make it and pretty soon, Corroded Coffin is going to sell out arenas, The Hideout being just the beginning.

He’s so into what he’s singing, his eyes closed. But you don’t know that he’s only doing it so he doesn’t have to see you with Steve. The song is so romantic, unlike the band’s other songs. Eddie’s voice sounds so pained and you hope that he’s not speaking from personal experience. Even though it hurts thinking about him being with someone else, you’d hate for him to not be able to be with who he’s interested in.

He’s grabbed your attention as he goes into his guitar solo, the cords slower than what he’s used to. You’re hypnotized by the way his fingers slide across the strings, doing it so effortlessly that you can’t help but be impressed.

Steve sees the way you’re staring and pulls you closer to him to get your attention. How will it look if his girlfriend is looking at the lead singer like he’s hung the moon? He knows no one cares, but he does. He honestly only cares because of how badly he wants you to look at him like that. That’s all he’s ever wanted and he knows that he’s not going to get it. Because it’s just his luck that he'd be in love with someone who isn’t in love with him. He’s never anyone’s first choice.

The set ends and the two of you wait as Eddie and the band pack up their equipment. You’re supposed to go out to dinner with them afterwards and Steve is absolutely dreading it. He just wants to go home and drown himself in the bottle of tequila he bought the other night and listen to your favorite record on repeat.

You wait until Eddie is distracted and wrap your arms around Steve's neck, throwing your head back as a loud laugh escapes your lips. Steve somehow catches on and he laughs as well, his genuine because yours is just so damn contagious.

Eddie looks up from where he’s putting his guitar away and that feeling in his gut he’s been having since the two of you showed up gets even worse, to the point where it starts to hurt. Yeah, he’s not going out tonight. He’s going to curl up in his bed and write some of the most devastating lyrics.

And when he watches the two of you lean in for a kiss, well, you might as well have ripped his heart out of his chest. That would have hurt a lot less. Gareth follows Eddie’s line of sight and doesn’t even have to ask to know what Eddie is thinking.

He doesn’t see how no one else knows how Eddie feels. He’s so goddamn obvious that it’s become painful to watch. And he knows you like him too so seeing you show up with Steve really threw him off. He knows that Steve likes you too, so this whole thing is really just a mess. He doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, especially not Eddie because he’s always getting the short end of the stick.

The rest of the members go out to dinner which you politely decline the invitation to since Eddie’s not going. You just have Steve drop you off at your apartment because being by yourself suddenly sounds so inviting. You just want to be by yourself because of how hurt you are that your plan is failing and it’s only started. How the hell are you going to continue when it’s not even effective?

So, the three of you wallow in your self pity in your respective rooms, hating how everything is turning out. It’s all so painful and unfair. Tears are shed and alcohol is drunk like water to numb the pain that you’re all feeling. Something that should be so simple has been complicated because you just had to go and pull Steve into your scheme instead of just being honest with him. And it seems like you’re going to pay for it, unknowingly hurting the both of them.

[fortemelody]

okay so like… imma say something maybe perhaps perchance controversial and hot-takey relating to sonic. and i’ve wanted to say this for awhile but didnt wanna get canceled becus it’s something that’s sorta difficult to convey through text…

i remember seeing a year or two ago that quite a few people thought shadamy was wrong simply becus amy reminded shadow of maria in SA2. so basically implying that like if amy is reminiscent of maria, this “inherently” means that shadow thinks of her also as his sibling of sorts.

but i honestly think this way of thinking isn’t correct. if you think about this in any context rather than this fandom then my point will be simpler to understand. for example, you can think to yourself “wow my partner has similar traits to {insert person here} in my family” WITHOUT thinking of them as the same person. acknowledging a parallel in personality should not be off limits when comparing someone you share romantic love with and someone you share platonic love with in my opinion, unless you’re the one constantly choosing to say/act upon that fact in an intentionally weird way.

we also don’t really know *exactly* what shadow was thinking in this exact moment, other than the fact that amy’s kind words changed his perspective and motives, which was the main point of that cutscene overall. it could very well be possible that shadow is experiencing some form of underdeveloped love for amy in that moment, but even he doesn’t know what kinda of love that may be becus he’s spent his whole life just traumatized and not exposed to relationship and friendship status quo of the outside world.

and may i remind you that shadamy is not the only ship to do this… so that argument really doesn’t even work?!? sonadow, probably the most popular ship ever in sonic, does this too. that official japanese art/story with shadow looking at the blue shoes references the parallels between sonic and maria i believe, along with MANY fan works i see regularly.

i’m glad the shift in shadamy has become apparent after TMOSTH and the twitter takeovers. i honestly change my opinion quite frequently between seeing this ship as more platonic or more romantic, but i wanted to still defend it nonetheless becus i find it quite ridiculous how much backlash it got for the stupidest things.

and in case this wasn’t clear- I DONT SUPPORT INCEST AND THIS POST IS NOT TRYING TO EXCUSE INCEST IN ANY WAY. i really just think that characters can be more complex than some people initially interpret them and so to quickly shame others based on these conclusions feels very odd to me.

[anthophi-lia]

We’re not even dating…

(Part 2)

A kindly requested sequel to this smau… We’re not even dating

Bakugou Katsuki x reader

1201 words

Enjoy!

The panic comes the moment your eyes flutter open. Here you are laying in your bed, with a still slumbering Katsuki Bakugou with his head pressed against your chest and his hand grasping at the side of your t-shirt.

You weren’t panicking at the fact that he was there. Waking up beside or snuggled against him was far from unusual for the two of you. No, the panic stemmed from the events of the previous night when Katsuki let the alcohol do all the talking before vomiting in your toilet and letting you lull him to sleep in your bed.

“Fuck…This is disgusting. Can you please just get out?” He had slurred between gags as he hunched over the toilet bowl. This brought a small laugh out of you as you shook your head at the mess he currently was.

“Get out of my bathroom? That I’m letting you destroy right now?” You brushed his hair out of his face with one hand as you continued to rub his back soothingly with the other. “If it’s me being scared off by your nasty puking that you’re worried about, then no need Kats. I still think you’re pretty cute,” you teased as he let out a frustrated growl.

“The puking isn’t the main issue…” He mumbled as he wiped at his bottom lip and sat up to lean himself against the bathroom wall. You knew he was referring to the series of drunken text messages he had sent you that had prompted you to come fetch him in the first place. You pursed your lips, unsure of what to say to him or how to ease his nerves.

“Let’s get you cleaned up so we can get some rest yeah?” Is all you could manage, offering him your hand to help stand himself up. He gave you a small nod, his gaze on the floor, as he took your hand and wobbled his way to the sink.

Now, nine hours later, he remained passed out on top of you, blissfully unaware of the awkward conversation you were soon to have. You know that chances were slim that he had meant any of the things he had said to you the night before. So now your goal was to agree to just forget about it so you could hopefully you could continue your relationship in the same manner as before. Late night texts to come over, occasional casual hang outs, and absolutely no exclusivity.

Deciding it’s best to just get it over with, you gently put your hands in his hair and softly say his name, “Kats…Wake up Kats..” He lets out a low grumble, nuzzling himself deeper into you, clearly only partially conscious. You roll your eyes and give his cheek a pinch, just sharp enough to wake him up.

“Christ, what the fuck,” he hisses out, smacking your hand away. He goes to rub the sleep from his eyes like a child would and for just a moment you’re reminded by how genuinely pure he can be sometimes. Until he’s cursing you out again. “You’re a bitch you know that right? I’m exhausted. Let me fucking sleep.”

Now that he’s awake, you push him off you slightly so you can sit yourself up. He looks at you with fire in his eyes, but you simply give him back a soft smile, doing your best to keep things comfortable until it becomes the opposite.

“You had quite the night last night…” You try to start the conversation, but he flops onto his back with a groan, and throws his arm over his face. “Kats…Babe..” You bring your knees towards your chest and reach to give him a little shake.

“Oh god just stop please. Don’t ‘babe’ me. Let’s just fucking forget it, yeah?” He peeks past his arm at you and you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t sink a little bit.

“Oh. Yeah alright. I just thought you’d want to talk about it.” You avert your gaze, praying he can’t see the way your heart is in your throat, and you’re about to throw it up.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Clearly you don’t feel the same way so just forget about the whole damn thing.”

Oh?

Your jaw falls open for a moment and you shoot your eyes back towards him. You grab his shoulder to pull him upright, pure disbelief on your face. He chews on the inside of his mouth, frustration ever present on his face.

“Are you saying you meant what you said?”

Grumbling.

You can’t stop the stupid grin on your face as you reach to grab his hand, holding it tightly. With your other hand you grab his jaw, tilting his face towards you.

“Katsuki Bakugou. You’re in love with me?” Pure and utter humiliation falls on his face and though you feel just a tad cruel for reacting like this, you can’t help but internally squeal at the situation.

“What the fuck did I say? Forget- ” Before the sentence fully falls out of his mouth, you press your lips to his. You feel him gasp, but lean into the kiss, reaching to the back of your neck and pulling you deeper into him.

You swing your leg over his hips, so you’re now straddling him. You adoringly run your hands up and down his entire body, pressing kiss after kiss onto him. Finally pulling away, you put your hands on either side of his awestruck face and smile like an idiot.

“What was that?” He gasps out, catching his breath. He lets his hand fall to your hips and lets his eyes trail all the way down your body and back up again.

“Katsuki Bakugou. You’re a goddamn idiot.” You shake your head and squish his face between your hands, which brings a deep frown out of him.

“Hey now it’s not my faul-”

“Stop. Let me finish,” you whine as you put your finger up to his lips. “You’re a goddamn idiot. And I want you to be mine.”

“The fuck? You mean tha-”

This time you put your hand flat against his mouth. “Shut up! For one second! I’m in love with you Kats. I want to go on actual dates. I want to have you as the lock screen on my phone so when people ask I can tell them about my wonderful boyfriend. I want to wake up and know you’re still there from the night before so we can go on walls to go get coffee together. I want you.” Finally dropping your hand so he can reply, Katsuki is speechless. His jaw has fallen open a little and his eyes have softened immensely. For the first time since you’ve know him, he doesn’t know what to say.

“Yes. Fuck…yes. I’ll be yours- Jesus fuck just- You be mine? Okay? You’re mine?” You’ve never see him stumble over his words like this and it unleashed butterflies deep inside you. You just nod at him, to which he gives you the kind of smile you’ve never seen from him before. It’s a smile of actual joy, admiration, and love.

You lean forward to press your lips against each corner of his mouth. After that you put yourself close to his ear and softly whisper to him, “I’m yours Kats. I’m all yours.”

• • •

@babycheech

[startheskelaton]

Hello, it me again. If it okay, can I make up for random character in Skybound Transformers I talk about? I know Sparkplug is died but I’m like “Let give them something nice for once” because- MY GOD! Elita-one and Optimus relationship is sure hanging on a edge because the whole “You choose earth over us” stuff (Would it be fun if they decided to divorce. Maybe not in canon because I do not want that to be canon even if it be fun)

So this is Lucky. She’s the only and last sparkling on earth (Listen, I pretty sure Cyberton earth is not even stable enough, and even the Cyberton is stable, I don’t believe that bullsh*t as you see how f*cking weak the state of its like come on and if you’re confuse what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the whole sparkling hatched from ground? And sorry about the lack of body, I can’t draw body very well) Lucky was little accident baby after Sparkplug and Bumblebee died. She manage to survive 3 time from near death experience in the womb during when Starscream shoot Megatron, Cobra-La attack and IN MIDDLE OF COLD WINTER. Her carrier able to give birth safety, although she was born mute because of the damaged cause from Starscream shot but she’s alive so that count.

How you rate some of the bots reaction? Sure, Lucky isn’t Sparkplug but close enough for everyone to finally have something positive for once or you know… just make everyone grief even worse (RIP Sparkplug and Bumblebee, and sorry if you’re not fully comfortable of this)

Oh my fucking god…… ooouuughhhhh

[ryiju-muunie]

Hiii!! Could you do story where Sanji is dating reader whose old partner only prioritized their own pressure and sanji does the opposite? Reader isn’t sure how to process it and tries to do something for him but he won’t let them

“S-Sanji.. I insist!” You blurted out, closing your legs as fast as they were pried open. Your boyfriend stared at you with wide eyes, lying before you on his stomach. Sanji’s hands were on your knees, bringing them down and to the right to better see your face. Not one had you ever rejected his advances.. and he wasn’t sure if you were rejecting him now.

“Let me do something for you.. you always do this for me.. why can’t I .. uh..” You felt yourself look away awkwardly, “Do this for you?” Your fingertips kept on the hem of your top, running against the fabric. It was soft and comforting. Something to ground you as you tried to push back.

It wasn’t that you hated how Sanji prioritized you, no, it was the opposite. You loved it. You adored how he would fuck you like you were the only woman alive. And you adored how he would lavish your body with his tongue. But you felt spoiled. The kind of spoiled that you heard about in unfair relationships where the woman got it all and she sucked her boyfriend emotionally dry.

Were you sucking him dry? Well you weren’t literally, as he never let you pleasure him— that was just it! Were you somehow pushing him to put you above all else? You didn’t want that… even if it was nice. Nicer than anything you had ever experienced.

“Darling..” Sanji began, smoothing your legs out so they rested against the bed and by his left shoulder. He hiked your joint knees over his shoulder and spread apart your legs, much to your protest. But he didn’t lean in to kiss your core, he, instead, rested his head against your clothed mons pubis.

“I like doing this,” he looked from you to your underwear, then back to you with a small smile, “Unless you don’t like this, I don’t see anything wrong with this.” His nimble fingers began to trace up and down your thigh, circling around the bone that your underwear laid atop of. You could feel him begin to inch his digit underneath the cloth— so you caught his hand and removed it slowly.

“I like.. it..” You began with hesitation growing in your voice. It was only then that Sanji shushed you.

“What is ‘this’?” He raised a curly brow.

“You know…” Your hand let go of his and he slowly snaked it underneath your underwear again.

“No, I don’t know..” His voice was soft as his face began to lower toward your core. Sanji scooted himself back on the bed and rested his right cheek against your left thigh, letting his left hand slowly touch along your bush.

You swallowed, “Cunnilingus..?” It was embarrassing to say. You didn’t want to refer to the act as what it was because then it would be real. It would be real that Sanji prioritized you too much and you couldn’t let this power imbalance stay any longer.

“No,” Sanji exhaled and leaned away from you. The warmth from his face left a small tingling sensation, but it was soon replaced with his hand spreading your thighs further apart. His hand underneath your underwear used its position to slowly guide off your panties, as he continued, “I’m worshipping you. Every single time I do.. this I’m worshipping your beauty. You’re like.. like my goddess. Least I can do is pray to you, right?”

A small blush formed at the base of your cheeks and bloomed against your temples, “Uh-huh..” Your voice was small and smitten as Sanji lifted your legs to take your underwear off and toss it gently to the side.

His hand ran up your pubic bone toward your stomach. Softly he applied pressure to let you fall back against the cushion, and you complied. You let your back hit the bed and you let his mouth plant a kiss on your core.

It was soft kisses that he laid against your skin— against your folds. Slowly his tongue came out of his mouth and licked circles around your entrance. Sanji’s fingers came and pulled you apart to get a better angle to worship you with.

This wasn’t fucking.. this was worshipping.

You pressed the back of your hand against your open mouth and whined. It was hard to keep the noises back when he knew how to fuck you every single time, exactly like it was the first time all over again.

Sanji ate you out like you were his last meal— like you were the best tasting thing in the planet. You were his world as he licked a stripe up your cunt and relished in the slick pooling around in mouth.

“S-Sanji..” You gaped when he hit that perfect spot. When he licked circles around your folds and when he nibbled at your labia with his teeth.

“Yeah?” He breathed out against you. One of Sanji’s hands came up to rub against your clit, caging it between two skilled digits and fucking you like the princess you were.

“K..Kiss m- a-ah.. kiss mmm.. me..” It escaped your lips too fast, coming out as a cry rather than real words strung together. Your boyfriend nodded his head and pulled himself up to smash his mouth against yours. He kissed you quickly; he kissed you passionately. He kissed you like his life depended on it. Every ounce of his life depended on making sure you were pleasured in every way imaginable.

You could taste your wetness on your tongue, you could feel Sanji’s hand slowly slipping two fingers inside you, and you could feel how much he loved you through every touch.

Maybe that’s what caused the pleasure to get intense and pool at the base of your pussy.

Maybe that’s what caused a burst of intensity to flash through your lower half and release from your honeypot onto his hand, letting him slowly sink his fingers further to touch that perfect spot.

“G-God.. A-Ah~” You sobbed, pulling from the kiss to wrap your arms around his neck and breathe in gulps of air.

Every time without fail.. Sanji knew how to worship you. And you let yourself like it fully without shame.

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