#it's okay to need to watch something twice!

[godsfavdarling]

waiting for the day to end

my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You and Spencer come back to his apartment, and your boyfriend’s drunken state brings old wounds to the surface. words: 2,3k warnings: angst, panic attack, drunk Spencer, mentions reader's ex-bf who was an alcoholic, no y/n a/n: I'm imagining later seasons Spence but I am not gonna yuck anybody's yum!

You smoothly place the keys in the lock of his apartment and quickly turn them twice to unlock the door. The dark room abruptly brightens when you flick the light switch on.

Spencer, who has been leaning against the wall near you, stumbles into the room right behind you.

The door slams shut behind him, the thud reverberating through the room.

You flinch, spinning around at the jarring sound.

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbles, a bit unsteady.

He throws himself onto the armchair with a heavy sigh, his head lolling back as he closes his eyes.

You murmur under your breath, “I’ll get you some water,” and head toward the kitchen, your heels clacking against the floor. 

In the quiet, you take a few deep breaths to steady yourself before filling two glasses of water. 

When you bring them back, you hand one to Spencer, urging him to drink. He gulps it down immediately, nearly draining the glass in one go.

You’ve never really seen him like this.

Spencer rarely—almost never—drinks. But tonight, it’s obvious just how far gone he is. He’s coherent enough to hold himself up, and his words still make sense, but you can tell he isn’t fully present. 

He was already fading hours ago, just an hour into dinner at Rossi's when his team had convinced him to relax and celebrate Garcia’s birthday with a few drinks.

Now, he’s staring off into space, eyes glassy, a faint smile still lingering from whatever joke had last drifted through his mind. You swallow, feeling the anxiety tug at you.

You felt it early on. But you tried to ignore it.

Spencer was different. 

He was responsible and careful. He liked being sober and in control. He was someone who avoided excess.

He was not a drunk. 

You knew all this and tried to stay rational. 

After his third drink, though, all that rationality flew out the window. With the last gulp of his third drink, you decided to excuse yourself, claiming you weren't feeling well, and spent most of the evening outside. The poker game was so intense that no one really questioned you or bothered to check on you.

You had thought, knowing Spencer’s sharp observation skills, that he would come find you shortly and ask what was wrong. He always did. He could always tell when something was off and always wanted to know. But tonight, he didn’t.

You waited, each minute stretching longer than the last, hoping he’d realize and come find you, that he’d be his usual self. But as the laughter and clinking glasses carried on from inside, you realized he was somewhere you couldn’t reach him tonight.

As you watched him now, slouched in the armchair with you far away from him sitting on the edge of the couch, your heart ached. 

This wasn’t the Spencer you knew. He was lost in his thoughts, barely acknowledging your presence. You handed him your glass of water, and he took it with a mumbled "thanks", sipping it more slowly this time.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you finally asked, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He looked up at you, his eyes a bit clearer but still distant. “Yeah, just... tired,” he replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You nodded, but the anxiety still sat inside you.

Stop!

Spencer is not him! 

He is nothing like him!

You keep staring at him, fidgeting with your fingers and the hem of your black velvet dress, feeling helpless as you try to guess what he wants. 

Is he going to stay here for a while? Does he need more water? Is he going to shower, or maybe just head to bed?

Finally, Spencer glances up, his gaze focusing on you as if for the first time tonight. His brows knit together as he notices the anxious look in your eyes. 

"What’s wrong?" he asks, his voice soft but tinged with confusion.

You swallow, feeling a rush of emotions you’ve been holding back all evening. He’s looking at you now, really looking, like he usually does, but something about his unsteady, drunken state makes you hesitate. 

He’s here, yet somehow not fully here, and you’re not sure how to answer.

You force a smile, shrugging as if it’s nothing, but your heart pounds. "Just… tired, I guess."

Spencer’s gaze doesn’t waver, and you know he sees through your answer, even in his state. 

Now he sees. 

He’s silent, watching you with a slight frown like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. The quiet stretches between you, heavy and thick.

You glance away, twisting the hem of your dress tighter. 

"Maybe you should get some rest," you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. You try to keep the tremor out, but it’s there. A lot of it.

He’s never seen you like this—not this vulnerable, this close to tears. You’ve not been dating that long. A lot of things are still unknown, unsaid, unshared and the toxic, drunk but highly functioning, unpredictable boyfriends have not yet come out in any conversation.

"I’ll be fine," Spencer mutters, rubbing his face with one hand as he sinks further into the chair.

His words are gentle, but they’re not the reassurance you’re aching for. 

You wish he’d tell you he’d never do this again, that he understands why this is hard for you. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, distant and hazy.

A lump forms in your throat as the silence presses down on you. You stand up, needing some distance, and force a tight smile. "I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll go… take a walk or something."

As you turn to leave, Spencer reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft but unsteady. "It’s like 2 AM. You’re not going anywhere alone."

You stop, frozen, a tightness forming in your chest. You want to say it’s fine, that you just need space, but the words feel like they’re stuck in your throat. Instead, he continues, unaware of how badly his presence is affecting you right now.

“Let’s take a walk together. It’ll help,” he offers, his voice tinged with concern, though still a little slurred.

You turn sharply, frustration and something darker bubbling up in your chest. “No!” you snap, louder than you intended, the word echoing in the quiet room. You instantly regret it, but the hurt is too raw, too overwhelming. You try to swallow the sudden surge of emotion, but it’s too much.

You finally realize that his hand in on your arm, and the realization hits like a cold wave. You feel an intense rush of discomfort. You don’t want him near you right now. 

The feeling of his fingers on your skin, even though they’re meant to comfort, feels wrong.

You can’t breathe. You can’t handle his touch, not like this, not after everything that’s happened. You jerk away, backing up, your heart hammering.

Without a word, you turn and storm toward the bathroom. You lock the door behind you and lean against it for a second, trying to steady your breath. 

The walls feel like they’re closing in, the anger and fear swirling inside you until you can hardly tell the difference between the two.

It’s not his fault, you think, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside your chest.

He’s just drunk, he’ll be sober soon, but... why does it still feel so wrong?

You press your hands to your face, feeling the tears already starting to form.

I’m not that person anymore. I’m not going to let this take me back. I can’t let it.

Your thoughts race, but you force yourself to focus, turning the shower on. The sound of the water helps. 

You quickly but clumsily step out of the dress and underwear, leaving them in a heap on the tiles. 

You step under the hot spray, closing your eyes, letting the warmth soothe the tension in your muscles.

Just wash it off, just wash it off, you tell yourself as if the water could cleanse more than just your skin.

You’re lost in the sensation of the water for long minutes when there’s a gentle knock on the bathroom door. 

You freeze. Your heart skipping a beat.

“Hey… uh… I really need to pee,” Spencer calls out, his voice even softer than before.

You swallow, fighting the panic rising in your throat, and quickly shut off the water. You wrap a towel around your body and open the door just enough for you to slip past him. Without a word, you go into the bedroom and gracelessly put on one of the shirts you left in his drawer.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow everything will be fine, you think, climbing into bed, curling up under the covers. 

You just want this day to end. You need it to end.

Then it hits you—you’re in his bed.

You stand up and then sit again on the edge.

You should go home. You should be in your own bed. You want to get up, gather your things, get dressed, and leave, but you're paralyzed. You're overwhelmed. You can’t breathe. You can’t move.

Then Spencer walks into the room, his gaze landing on you. As if he can read the turmoil in your mind, he says softly, "It's late. Stay here tonight. Take the bed. I’ll take the couch."

You don’t say anything, unable to find the words.

He pauses, watching you for a moment, before quietly pulling his pajamas from the closet and heading into the bathroom.

You just need to sleep. You’ll sleep it off, and when you wake up, things will make sense again. Maybe Spencer will apologize. 

Apologize for what?

He didn’t do anything wrong.

He’ll be sober. Everything will go back to normal.

But sleep doesn’t come. The bed feels cold, and the silence in the room is suffocating. You can’t shake the thoughts in your head.

What if he doesn’t remember?

What if he won’t leave it and you’ll have to explain and he’ll be angry?

Why are you angry?

Why are you upset?

Just as you're about to give up on sleep altogether, you hear the soft creak of the door opening. Spencer slips into the room quietly, his footsteps hesitant. He walks to the bed, sitting down beside you without saying anything at first.

"Are you asleep?" he asks quietly, his voice gentle, almost too careful. You feel his gaze on you, even though you’re facing the window, your back to him.

You don’t answer at first. You don’t want to talk to him right now. You don’t want to explain why everything feels broken. You don’t want him to ask.

But you can feel him there, his presence. 

Finally, he speaks again, his voice low but steady. “Please... can we talk? I don't wanna go to bed with you upset and angry.”

You don’t move, staring into the dark. You wish you could say the right thing. You wish you could fix it, but all you feel is a dull ache in your chest, and the thought that maybe nothing will ever be the same again.

Spencer’s hand reaches out, his fingers trembling slightly as he hesitates for a moment before gently moving toward you. "Hey, I—" His voice cracks, and you can hear the sorrow in it, the regret, the helplessness.

But as his arms come closer, something inside you recoils. You can’t have him near you right now. Not like this. Not when everything feels so wrong.

You flinch, turning away from him instinctively, the words coming out before you even have a chance to stop them. “Please don’t touch me.”

The words hang between you like a heavyweight. 

Spencer freezes, his hand hovering in mid-air, and for a second, everything is still. You can hear his breathing — shallow, uneven — as if he’s trying to understand, trying to process what just happened.

You don’t want him to feel hurt, but you can’t help it. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a raw nerve, and his touch, even if it's meant to comfort, feels suffocating.

“Okay,” Spencer finally says, his voice small, resigned. He pulls his hand back slowly, as though giving you space to breathe. 

You don’t look at him. You can’t. 

“I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice distant now, like he’s trying to find his footing again. “I just... I’m not sure what happened. I know hurt you. I don’t know how but I’m sorry.”

The silence lingers, thick and uncomfortable, wrapping itself around both of you. Spencer hesitates for a long moment, unsure of what to do or say next. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t lift yours. 

Finally, he clears his throat softly.

“I’ll... I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” he says, his voice gentle and careful like he’s trying not to disturb the fragile air between you.

“It’s okay. If you want to talk... or anything... just come and tell me. I’ll be here.”

You don’t say anything. You still don’t look at him. But you can hear the sincerity in his voice, the aching honesty of it.

If only his words, his willingness to be there even when you’ve pushed him away could make things better.

But you don’t answer him, because you don’t have the strength to. You don’t know what to say.

Spencer sighs quietly, almost like a final surrender, and then you hear his footsteps moving away from you.

The door opens and closes softly behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence of the room once more.

Spencer’s words echo in your mind, but they don’t bring comfort. Not yet. 

[hoodielord]

Grim and Hood

Nightwing 

Gotham Bay Monday 9pm

 Dick didn't know  about Jason's gang or much about his crime lord work in general. But now is a better time than later to learn. Jason had been watching a shipment of chemicals that scarecrow had supposedly ordered. But another issue had come up where Jason was needed. So Jason sent some members of his gang to help with the shipment.This just so happened to include Jason's second in command. 

Dick wasn't expecting this. Jason's second in command was around Jason’s age. He’s a head shorter than Jason.They are lanky though and pale. They wore a skelton mask that covered the lower half of his face. They moved like Cass or Duke; clung to the shadows and moved silently most of the time. It was surprising given their white hair. When it was time to move into fighting they were brutal, not deadly, but enough to break a few bones and incapacitate men twice as built as they were. Everything about them screamed meta.

 This skeleton was definitely a meta of some sort. Quickly they climbed into the rafters of the warehouse. Green eyes glowed as they swept through the warehouse. They were hunting for something. Skeleton’s eyes snapped to a man running for the exit. 

Like a whip they zipped through the rafters and descended on the man. The man shrieked in surprise and swung. But his arm never hit them. No, their arm went through them like he wasn't there. The man freaked blindly and swung at him screaming.

“What are you?!”

The skeleton mask’s fist slammed into the man’s face and the man crumbled. Skeleton dug through the man’s pockets and pulled out a glowing green vial.   

After the fighting was done and the shipment was secured Hood arrived. 

“ Hey Wing.”

“Hey Hood. So who's that?” pointing to them as they worked on helping the injured and tieing up the goons.

“That’s Grim, he does most of the work when I'm not around.”

“ Hey boss, everything's secure!” One of the gang members calls.

“ Good. Okay Sam and Ralph will make sure the shipment is handed off. Bill makes sure these idiots are hauled away by the cops. The rest of you can pack it in for tonight.”

The rest of the gang moves out or to their posts. Except Grim who walks up to Hood.

 “ Hey Grim, you good?”

Grin nods and hands Hood the vial.

“This is probably the new prototype the demented sock puppet was working on.” Their voice had an echo but maybe more like many different voices were speaking as one. 

Hood let out a chuckle at Grim’s remark.

“I’ve never heard that one before.”

Despite, the mask you could tell Grim was smiling but his expression faltered and he wavered.

He mumbles something about overtime and then proceeds to face plant right into Hood's chest.

“Is he alright?”

Hood sighs “ Yeah, he should be alright. He just fell asleep.” Hood mumbles something about bribes and revenge.

“Do I wanna know what you’re planning?”

“Not unless you want the same thing to happen to you,” Hood says as he picks Grim up and throws him over his shoulder.

“See you later, Wing,” Hood said before calling the gang for a car.

----

After a few rings, she picked up.

“Hey, Spoiler.”

“What’s up Hood?”

“If I make you waffles tomorrow would you help me get revenge on RR?”

“Hell yeah! Wait. What kind of revenge?”

“I am thinking more of your kind of revenge.” 

“Deal!”

“Awesome, so here is the plan.” 

----

Tuesday 1am, Jason’s apartment

“Hey, your coworkers said you have the rest of the week off,” Jason said from the kitchen.

“Cool…your brother needed to chill with the overtime. I feel like I did in high school dealing with ghosts.” Danny mumbled from the couch in the living room.

“Yeah, I already have that covered.”

“What do you mean?” 

Jason didn’t answer.

“Jason, what are you going to do to your brother?”

“Nothing too bad.”

“Jason.”

“It’s fine, get some more sleep.”

A few seconds pass and then there is a crash in the living room.

“Get back here, intruder!”

“You're literally the one that crawled through the window!”

Jason recognizes that voice and rushes to the living room.“If you don’t stop right now I am not helping clean the barn this weekend!”

Danny was standing on the couch with a crystal blue sword in hand  as Damian looked ready to strike but stopped midswing.

“You promised to help! You dare break your promise! And explain, who is this harlot?”

“Who is this kid and why does he speak like he’s from a period drama?....The fuck is a harlot?” Danny said, still holding tight to his sword ready to block the swing.

Jason sighs,”Demon brat, this is Danny. Danny, this is Demon brat.”

“tt.That explains nothing.”

“Zero net gain of info there, Jay.”

Both of them ease slightly in their stances.

“Demon Brat, why are you here? B do something stupid again?”

“Oh. this is your other little brother.”

Danny released his grip on his sword and it began to dissolve into nothing. At this Damian tightened his grip on his sword.

“ Damian, he’s my friend.”

“Fine…It was Grayson. He was too stifling after tonight." Damian put his short sword away. Jason and Daiman walk into the kitchen as Danny slumps back into the couch.

“Let me guess you got injured?”

“I only required three stitches. He is overreacting.”

“Fine. I got tea. You can only stay for an hour though. Don’t need all the bats to show up on my balcony.”

“That is acceptable ... .You're expecting someone else?”

“Steph is helping me with something…. You’ll see later.” Jason said with a grin.

-----

Noon, Wayne Manor. Dick

Dick was at the manor because he was preparing to cover for Bruce as Batman when he was off-world dealing with a Justice League issue.  

The door into the dining room swung open violently followed by Tim marching in covered in neon green glitter. There was so much glitter that it trailed behind him. 

“ You look like you’re trying to cosplay the riddler. Did Steph do that?” 

Tim just grumbled and held up a light purple sticky note. 

‘Yep, definitely Steph.’ Dick thought, grabbing the note.

 The note read: ‘Jason said you gave your R&D department too harsh a deadline for a project and they had to work double overtime on it. So you get a glitter bomb! 😛 P.S. No, I am not helping you clean it. Yes I got bribed. No, I am not helping you get him back.’

“Why would Jason care about your R&D department? Also double overtime? That's harsh.”

“One of his friends is a part of it.  And I wouldn’t have had to do that if the client wasn’t a total ass about it…Maybe I should send them a glitter bomb….. Anyway, I gave the department the rest of the week off.” Tim mumbles as he rests his head in his arms on the table. 

“First of all , I think the glitter bomb is a bad idea. Secondly, Jason has a friend working at W.E.?”

“Yeah, one of the top engineers. His name is Danny ... .Never introduce him to Steph. I will never see the end of the glitter or worse.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah. He found out someone was stealing his pens. He replaced the ink in them so that the thief was writing in glitter gel ink on official forms. Then there was the time he set up a code on another engineer's computer that would randomly call him an idiot.”

“ What did he do to deserve that?”

“Used and misplaced Danny’s socket set.”

Dick laughed. “Well it’s nice that Jason has another friend.” Dick paused after a moment and said, “We should never introduce him to Roy either.” 

“Oh God, no.”

Thinking about it now Danny was probably Grim. But Tim didn’t need to know that now but knowing him he probably already did.

“You should probably go change.Alfred not going to be happy to see all the glitter too.”

“He should make Jason and Steph clean it.” Tim groaned.

At this time Damian walked into the dining hall and stopped to state at Tim with a knowing grin.

“Gremlin, did you help Steph and Jason with this?”

“No, I would not stoop to that level. Todd had mentioned he and Brown were working on something together.”

Noon same day, Jason’s apartment, Steph

Steph was always up to pranking Tim, well anyone in the Batfamily except Alfred really, but she wanted to know why Jason was defending the R&D department with this revenge thing. So after the prank was pulled she swung by Jason’s apartment.

She climbed into the living room through the fire escape window.

“Hey, I was promised waffles!”

Someone sat up on the couch with wide blue eyes staring at Steph. A mess of black hair flopped in different directions. They have an iron grip on the back of the couch. They're lanky and thin, practically swimming in a 3xl t-shirt. That’s not Jason.

“Nobody I know uses the goddamn door!” Jason yells stomping into the living room. 

Danny and Steph point at each other and turn to Jason.

“Steph, this is my friend Danny. Danny this Steph. Who I am going to personally show the definition of defenestration.”

“Hey you’re the one that promised waffles. And here I helped you with your revenge.” Steph  defended herself.

“Revenge? Waffles? Waffles sound good. Revenge is best cold though or something like that. Waffles not so much. ” Danny said half asleep and then promptly fell back asleep.

“Is he alright?” Steph said, leaning over the couch to see if he was.

Jason sighs “He hasn’t had enough sleep in this past week. Come on, I'll make you your waffles.”

In the kitchen Jason gets to work making Steph her waffles. After a few moments she asks “soooo…is he the reason that you had me glitter bomb Tim’s office?”

“Yep. Last week Danny was helping me with tracking the shipment of Scarecrow's fear toxin that we took care of last night.”

“Danny knows you’re Hood?”

“Yeah, I met him as Jason first then as Hood, he works with the gang.”

“Does Tim know?”

“I mean its a matter of time. Anyway, this week Tim had the R&D department, where Danny works, do more overtime to finish this project hence the glitter bomb.”

“You are the only nerd I know that would use the word hence…. I would never call Alfred a nerd.”

“Understandable but if you call me a nerd again I am burning your waffles.”

“Nooo!”

“Hey how come Danny looked like he was about to run when I yelled?”

“That’s because the gremlin decided to stop by earlier and then proceed to try and hunt Danny for sport.” Jason said, placing the first plate of waffles in front of her.

“Ha, yeah that explains it.” Steph said, taking a bite of her well earned waffles. 

“Soooo want to tell me why he's wearing your t-shirt?”

“No”

Two days later, Gotham bay, Roy

Jason had asked for some help with some experimental tech he was working with. He wasn't expecting to find a new buddy to talk shop with.

Arriving at the warehouse he spots Hood waiting for him by the door.

“Hey Roy.”

“Hey Jaybird, so what’s the tech you wanted to show me?”

“It’s inside, a member of the gang is looking...” 

Hood was cut off by a small explosion from inside the warehouse. Hood and Roy burst into the warehouse. Smoke curls through the air as they rush in.

“Grim! Where are you? Grim!” Hood calls as he moves through the crates and boxes.

“Damn it! Where are you? Danny!” Hood was panicking; it wasn't like him. Who was this Danny person?

There’s a fire up ahead with smoke curling up to the roof. A few shouts from different gang members rush to find the fire extinguishers. Like a bullet, one of the members with snow white hair dressed in all black, rushed forward. They seemed to blast the fire with a wave of ice as other members came in with fire extinguishers. 

“Grim!”  Hood yelled as the one dressed in black seemed to stagger after the fire was out.

Hood rushed forward grabbing them by the shoulders and steadying them.

“Hey Grim. You there?” 

“Hood?” his voice was quiet.

“Yeah it’s me. You okay?”

“Yeah I'm okay.” he still didn’t sound all there.

“Why don't you sit for a bit.”

“Yeah..”

“Okay I’ll be checking everyone else okay?”

Hood helped Grim to one of the crates to sit. Hood and Roy walk away as Grim calms down.

“Jaybird, is he alright?”

Hood sighs “He will be… explosions at close distance send him off sometimes.”

“Bill!”

“Yeah, Boss?” 

“What happened?”

“Grim was working on the device when he just froze suddenly and freaked out, getting everyone away from it. Then it exploded. Nobody’s hurt. How’s he?”

“ He’s calming down now.”

-----

Hood and Roy looked over the wreckage.

“Well I don’t think we are going to get anything from this Jaybird.”

“The device had a secondary trigger.” a voice came from behind Roy.

“Jesus fuck!”

Grim jumped back a little at Roy’s outburst. Hood just laughed at them both.

“Are you sure you’re not a new Bat or something?”

“No. Why would I dress as a bat furry?” Even with the skeleton mask you could tell he had a smirk across his face.

Hood started laughing harder and Roy laughed too.

“I’m Arsenal.” Roy stuck his hand out to Grim.

“Grim.” They said, shaking his hand.

“Grim works as the gang’s second in command. He’s also the tech expert on hand. And this is Arsenal who’s okay with tech.”

“Jaybird I am better than okay.”

“I once saw you jam an arrow into a computer that you couldn’t hack.”

“I didn't have enough time! Plus it worked didn’t it?” Arsenal 

“I mean whatever works.” Grim shrugged.

“See Jaybird he gets it,” Roy turns to Grim “Hey wanna hear about the high powered flamethrower I made?”

“Hell yeah. I made a laser gun out of a microwave once.”

“I am now regretting letting you two meet.”

“Too late!” Grim and Roy exclaimed. Grim’s eyes lit up, literally they were glowing green. 

Hood sighs “Okay but let’s work on the problem at hand first.” he then turns back to Grim, “Also if you ever work together on something I’m telling your sister.”

“Spoilsport.” Grim huffed.

They went to work on the remains of the bomb looking over the components.

“Are you doing okay Grim?”

Grim hummed at his question. “Yeah… this is just my luck huh? I got a week of overtime and almost blew up…”

“But you didn’t. You saved them before it could hurt you or anybody.”

------

[icarusredwings]

oooooh HELLO NEW CONTESTANT!!

Ps. Im so sorry for whoever has to see this huge chain of reblogs.

So yeah that was semi the plan love love love your thoughts except I had the idea that eventually they would find the cure BECAUSE of wade. Since wade can consent (and can restrain himself not to chomp people) he (unfortunately) would infact be the perfect test subject and because logan is definitely not gonna let some assholes test his lover without making sure its ethical and not harm him more then good, Wade would be quite accepting.

It also helps (Now don't look at me like that- you gotta understand his situation) that wade is very food and affection motivated so yes while he does still feel pain and heals slower then usual (still way faster then a human) it would only be natural for him to whine or not want hurt.

So yeah, in between shots and what not he's given pieces of meat and hugged, nuzzled, etc.

"One more and then were done. Hear me?" Logan tells them, coming to wade, Giving him some left overs and putting his arm around him.

"Just one more okay? Then we'll go see the girls."

He nods, mouth already full of the food, happy at the mention from the girls.

Another thing is Wade dosn't just wonder off in a sense of he dosn't know what hes doing or just aimlessly is leaving like how other zombies mindlessly walk around. Wade "wonders off" mainly because he knows if he dosn't eat anything soon hes going to hurt someone and he dosn't want that so he removes himself from the situation.

He also eats just about anything. Yeah he heavily prefers meat because something about the virus craves protein, its why his muscles have gotten weaker too but the virus knows of they eat their host there wont be anymore.

Most zombies die because the virus starves and has to eat the host, but because when they eat wades cancer it just keeps coming back, and eventually the cancer would whoop the virus's ass due to sheer out numbering but I like to think that before things get better (much like cancer) it gets WAY worse.

So yes, for a year or two hes off an on, randomly being feral the first year but the second year only being feral about once a month for a short period of time.

He slowly is becoming better and better as the third year rolls around to the point where he hasn't been feral in awhile, slipping up only because he hasn't eaten in 2 days, in which Logan apologizes to him because it's winter and theres not much to spare.

Wade knows he gets fed last, and honestly isn't too upset about it. He's lucky to get food twice a day simply from how scarce it is. In the summer its a lot better, much more animals come out, theres a lot of plants, hell the girls started a garden before Logan and Wade even found them so often times they have food its just... not.. sustainable.. for wade.

Yes, he'll eat it. He'll eat it all, clear his entire plate like hes been starving for months but he needs the protein. He needs the high fat content. Its why he gets a lot of beans.

Laura had even managed to trade for a chicken that first year but uhhhhhh wade ate it.... just... mauled the poor thing. Ripped it to shreds. It made gabs cry because she already named the hen "Penny". Well. No more penny. And now Wade isnt allowed out back by the chicken coop no more.

Sometimes, still 3 years later, She'll catch wade crouched down and staring at them with such wide eyes, like a cat watching a fish in a bowl.

"What are you doin? Get away from there! You know better." She'll tell him and he'll whine at her a bit because once in a great while Logan will let him pet the chickens. He'll hold it tight and let Wade run his fingers on its back with the biggest grin. But after whats happened to penny? No sir. He wasnt allowed to pet them without Logan around.

He's just so... hungry. And there's nothing really anyone can do about it. Because of this though, Wade makes a great hunter and well... sometimes.. even in the third year half of the animal will be eaten by the time he brings it home but he does infact bring home many intact kills. It sucks though because bassically anything Wade puts his mouth on or licks immediately is thrown out and cant be eaten by the girls or logan, So yeah.. Logan gets frustrated when Wade comes home with a useless deer because wade already took a chunk out of it.

By the fourth year wade is allowed to sleep in the house nightly, is allowed to hug the girls each day, and can control himself enough to even have dinner with them as a family. Year 4s biggest issue right now is that he keeps trying to kiss them. Trying to kiss the girls cheeks, trying to kiss logan, and he keeps trying to share food, trying to give Gabs more vegetables off his plate when now her entire plate is ruined because of cross contamination.

From what they know is that this virus is similar to rabies because it stems from the same family in which feasts on proteins and fat but its evolved enough to understand that the host needs to be able to do things such as swallow and walk so they do not attack the spinal cord or the ceribellum which controls movements. Unlike rabies in who devoures the brain, rendering the person not to be able to swallow and mindlessly walks around looking for water especially in heavily dense human population with zero fear. (Seen in foxes the most)

The zombie virus does attack the Broca's area though in which controls speech. They attack other parts of the brain like memory logic and processing but because of how much cancer wade has it just keeps growing back.

Some early days of being bitten he will just stare at you like a dementia patient trying to remember who you are, other days he will run into a door and then just stand there like a sim who cant move because theres a plate on the ground.

It also is better for him to NOT get bit or licked again by other zombies so after year one Logan stops letting him eat other zombies, noticing that he gets worse afterwards because he becomes reinfected. This- Has limited wades food sources to human grade stuff, aka.... a lot less.. which causes more snappiness for a few days, but after 2 weeks he improves a lot.

By year 5 he has an entire week straight where he is unconscious, growling and struggling against the chains in the shed. Logan is sitting out side of the shed on a stump, crying because he dosn't know what happened or what to do. Wade was doing so good to the point he was starting not to worry about him biting anymore and now he was at square one.

The next day he sees that the noise has stopped and wade is pased out for another good week. Logan is almost relieved. He thinks Wades body finally gave up. Finally died.

He sobs that morning, Whispering thank yous to nothing and im sorrys. He dosnt even know why hes apologizing, he didnt do it. If he could put wade out of his misery he would have done it years ago, so this is a blessing.

Laura, much like her father, has very mixed feelings, crying behind closed doors but is glad. Finally he wouldn't hurt anymore.

Being barley 18 now, Gabs still sobs. Cries that its not fair that her papa died. Cries because he was so nice to her and now he was gone for good. She would never get to hug her papa ever again.

This was until...anyway.. when 8 days later theres a soft knock on the inside of the shed. Logan couldn't bare the idea of him coming back and hurting the girls so he sealed off the shed, being his husbands forever tomb.

At first he thinks its a cruel joke. "Gabby, quit! That's not funny-"

"What dad?"

But if gabs wasn't doing that, and lauras in the house..

Carefully, he unlocks it, peeking in to see Wade awkwardly standing here. Blinking.

"...hai..?"

"....hi...??"

"...urrhhm... yor wracked meh n hare.."

Logan swears hes gone insane, he could have SWORN his dead husband just said "You locked me in here" and "hi"

His skin looking better, less open gashes and healed up, still scarred up but no longer really decomposing.

This has to be a dream right?

"..no.. No. Ha! Heh.. no."

"...no rhat?"

He stares in disbelief, wondering how in gods name he was alive still. And talking? Like.. actually talking.. Tears run down his face faster then he can think, Gabby is already crying and quickly unchaining him. "You're the worst dad ever!! Yo-you know that!?" She sobs, angry from the hurt but also so glad that he was okay.

"Ar rnow... I Sarry."

"B-but you were gone- I... I saw you.. you were rotting and everything.."

"Rhat rRh- er... h-harppins." He smiles softly, worried just how much he upset his family, and is even more worried by how tight Logan held him and sobbed into his shoulder. "You fucking IDIOT!" He cries, breaking a few of his ribs.

"Aouch! Owr" he whines, turning his head from him and everything, not wanting any of his saliva to touch Logan despite him desperately trying to bury himself in his neck.

It wasn't much Laura seen her father like this, but she has a pretty similar reaction, complete with a slap and telling him to never die on them ever again.

"Nor pramases!"

Hello there. You must be crying by now. Dont worry so am I. If anyone wishes to draw zombie wade I would be extremely happy. Different stages would be so cool to see. I might do a little sketch if I have time. Anyway. Here. You will need these.

I dont CARE that it's November 9th and "Halloweens over" ITS MY BIRTHDAY MONTH ILL POST IF I WANT TOO

Anyway.

Thinking about apocolpse au.

Wade getting bitten by a zombie, Logan freaking out, Wade dying, and him coming back (Again)

"Didn't you just die?? I literally fucking burried you!!"

And wades like:

"Of course. Man, God REALLY hates you dosn't he?"

And he's bassically the same person except just saying, "Rahhah har ran re" (translation: I think the devil doesn't want me either)

"What?? Oh for fucks sake... tell me you're kidding.."

"Rah?" 🤔

"Great so now you stink more and you can't talk. Fucking lovely."

"Mmmmh..." 🥺 (would you still love me if I was a zombie?)

"*sighs, blushes and grumbles how insane this is and how much of a bad idea this is* Fine! Come on...."

"Raah!!" 😄

And sometimes his limbs fall off because I think it would be funny if you just saw him stop, turn around, pick up his arm and shove it back into place like a dislocated shoulder. (Marvel Magic)

But its very obvious that Wade is still consious and so logan leads him around, puts a leash on him, ties him up when he goes to sleep the first few nights so wade dosn't eat him, sometimes luring him with a piece of his thigh or telling him he'll feed him soon to make him behave.

The only thing about this resource wise is that it seems Wade is a bottomless pit, not ever able to get enough. It's like all the nutrients just pass right through him, so he can't get fed meals daily, but Logan will share at least one bite of his food. It makes Wade so happy and way more "wade like" than zombie.

Logan has learned that the hungrier Wade gets the worse it would be, snapping at logan a few times.

"Grr-"

"Aye! That's enough outta ya"

"GggRah!"

"Hey!! I said no! Bad! Bad wade!"

"Mmmh??"

"Bad!!"

"Mmh....rahah.."

"I forgive you. But stop trying to bite me. I feed you, don't I? I hold your hand and tell you that I love you?"

Wade is actually extremely friendly for a zombie (duh) and still yaps at logan except its nonsense. Logan tries hard to understand him and talk back.

He holds his hand sometimes, even lays next to him only to scold him if he gets too bitey. This is hard because wade already had a biting issue and seeing as he practically ate anything or anybody now it was more difficult.

"...aahh-"

"Wade- No."

"Ggr.. raahh"

"Wade! No! Bad."

"Mmmh..."

"Ill feed you tomarrow. Don't bite me mkay? You wanna hurt me?"

He shakes his head like a dog shaking off from a bath, or that ate a bee.

"Then don't bite me."

"Mmh? Mrah?"

"No. No kisses right now. Im still not even sure if thats safe.."

"Mmmh...🥺 ahrrah?"

"No, not even a tiny one."

"Mm...😔"

Until Logan grunts and pecks his hand. "There. Happy?"

"🙂‍↕️mh"

"Good."

Honestly Logan felt bad, pitited him. No matter what food he ate it wasnt enough substance to sustain him and sometimes Logan would wake up to find him eating a different zombie that made the mistake of trying to eat Logan.

You ever wake up in the morning, lose your zombie boyfriend, call for him only to walk outside and see him knawing on some poor chaps arm like a happy puppy who found a chicken leg? Logan has. Many times. And he wishes his phone would charge so he could take a picture of it but unfortunately theres no electricity in the post apocalypse world.

This being said Logan is like- THE perfect guy for apocalypse au because he can smell everything and hear anyone before they even get to you, he has better wilderness survival skills then anyone I know and he'll never NOT have a weapon on him because of his claws. The only downside is that he's tired easily, needs a lot of food, and would lowkey be withdrawing from his tabccao and alchool, therefore very moody.

"Stupid fucking apocalypse having to happen when im fucking alive!! Why can't I just NOT live through ONE major historical event! Is that too fucking much to ask? One damn decade where everything is fine and dandy and- WADE! Get your ass away from that!! It's radioactive!! For fucks sake!"

"Rahahrah?"

"NO!! You can not become Spiderman! That's not how that works!"

"Aawr..😔"

The whole thing is they're on a quest to find Laura and Gabby, because when everything went to shit, they were on a cabin trip and now Logans brain is itching because he dosn't know where his babies are and its driving him insane. Once he finds them, they're gonna shack up somewhere with food and animals to hunt, and hes gonna make a little shed outside for Wade to sleep because he'll kill him if he bites one of the girls.

He dosnt care that much about himself really and he hates himself deep down for not being able to trust wade anymore but even wade dosnt trust wade, sometimes wandering off on purpose, staying about 30 feet away from him at all times, growling and giving Logan that glazed over look of unconsiousness. The only good thing about this, though, is after he removes himself from the idea of hurting Logan (because if logaj were to become infected - HA! Your all fucked. Utterly fucked. The whole humanoid species would go extinct because he'd kill anything that moved) he feels more trusting of him and it's not uncommon for them to hug after either. Afterall Wade- Some how???- is still wade and is very affectionate and sensitive when its not returned.

This whole thing also makes him think worse about himself, kicking reflective objects or staring at himself in a shop window in utter shock and disgust with a face of 'thats me..?' While logans raiding the place for supplies.

Did you know zombies can cry? Well, Wade could. Not a lot, only able to get a bit of liquid from dehydration, but sometimes Logan will catch him just... sitting there.. crying. Upset with himself for being bit. Upset with himself for trying to bite logan all the time. Upset at how ugly he is. Upset that he's starving all the time. Upset that he can't even talk to anyone, and Logan just has to guess what he's saying 90% of the time. Bro is literally

When they DO find Laura and Gabby, the girls are doing great. Laura was going to blow wades head off until Gabby ran in the shot, hugging him instantly, only to be ripped away.

"Of course my dad is the weirdo married to a zombie." Laura grunts, but is secrelty happy that wade is still 'alive'

Gabby, being as young as she is, thinks it's so SICK that her dad is a zombie now, giggling when he talks to her and holding his hand. She's not allowed near him for long, and not at all by herself, but Gabby bassically becomes Wades number one supporter, defending him when he messes up and snaps at laura.

"He's just hungry!! He's not bad! It's not bad to be hungry!" She'll say. "You wouldn't kill me if I was hungry.." she tells her bigger, more survival oriented sister whos suggested putting wade out of his misery, for his own sake. "I tried that... he found me again 3 days later." Logan tells her with a pang in his chest. It had taken everything in him to kill him the first time, and sobbed himself to sleep the next 2 days. By the third when he noticed Wade following him from a distance he couldn't believe it.

Not even the apocalypse could keep them away from each other..

[zigrethsnotebook]

[FOREHEAD KISS]

Ford x Reader

words: 668

tags: sfw, angst, a creature threatens the family

The night was darker and quieter than usual when you woke up. Ford wasn’t in his usual spot besides you, even though he had gone to bed with you, and not a single sound could be heard within the house. A sickening feeling spread in the pit of your stomach. Something was very wrong.

You slowly got out of bed, careful not to disturb the house with any sounds that would give away your presence. The living room was empty. So was the kitchen, the gift shop, the lab. Even the bedrooms of Stan and the kids were empty. Everyone was gone.

In your last hope for a harmless reason for this you stepped outside onto the porch, hoping to find the family toasting some marshmallows over the fire or something. But what you found was so much worse than you’d imagined.

You knew that after the events of weirdmageddon Ford had reinforced the spell that protected the house. Apparently so much so, that it was even difficult to see the supernatural through the spell. But you saw enough: A gigantic plant-like creature with multiple green tendrils towered in front of the shack. It stood more than twice as tall as the house.

The longer you looked, the more clearly you could make out that the creature was holding three unconscious figures in its tendrils. It was the kids and… Stan. But where was Ford? Had the creature eaten him?

As you were looking from tendril to tendril, stepping forward occasionally to get a better view, trying to find your boyfriend in one of them, your gaze wandered over its face. It was staring at you. You froze, a shiver running down your spine as sheer terror gripped your soul.

The air around you vibrated as one of its tendrils hammered against the barrier Fords spell had created. The sensation and visual startled you so much that you fell backwards onto your butt. Still unable to move on your own, you sat there, mouth agape and shaking.

Ford, who had been sitting on the roof of the shack, trying to figure out how to get his family out of this creature's grasp, looked up from his notes and plans when he heard the creature hammer against the barrier. What were you doing there?! He jumped off the roof without a second thought and was next to you in seconds.

He placed a hand on your shoulder and you screamed until you heard Ford’s calming voice tell you: “Hey, hey. It’s me, Ford!” You stopped screaming but had your focus on the creature again as another tendril to the barrier made you jump.

Ford took a hold of your face with both hands and tried to turn it towards him. “Please, look at me. Focus on me for a second.” It was difficult but you obliged. Just looking into his eyes eased some of the terror in your bones.

“I know it’s relatively safe out here with the barrier, but it is even safer inside the house - there is a second layer of the spell on it. So I need you to go back inside the house, okay?” You furrowed your brows and glanced over at Stan and the kids. “But…” Ford cut you off, turning your face back towards him. “No 'buts'! I need you inside the house. I need to know that you are safe so that I can save them. Please!”

Ford took a deep breath and looked down when he added: “I can’t risk losing you, too.” With trembling hands you covered his with your own and nodded. Ford breathed a sigh of relief and leaned in, pressing his lips to your forehead as a promise that he’d be back.

Without pulling away he whispered a “Thank you.” into your skin. You took a deep breath and moved backwards, stood up and walked back inside the house. Inside you watched through the window as Ford took a gun from his belt and left the barrier.

[cryiingoutloud]

☽〝 heart out ( matty healy x reader ) pt. 1

warnings: none. just two dickheads who can't express their feelings. wc: 3.4k

the air outside was cold, the kind that bit at your skin and sent shivers down your spine even beneath layers of clothing. the streetlights above bathed the world in a dull amber glow, flickering every few moments as if they too were exhausted by the hour. it was 3 a.m., the hour when most of the world slept, but you were awake, barely standing on the pavement outside the bar, swaying slightly with every breath. a sharp gust of wind sent your hair into disarray, but you barely felt it, your vision hazy, the world spinning just out of reach.

you fumbled with your phone, your fingers clumsy, almost numb from the alcohol coursing through your veins. the city felt too big, too loud, yet strangely silent, except for the hum of distant cars and the soft echo of your thoughts— your regrets. the glow of matty's name on the screen made your heart stutter. you didn’t know why you were calling him; maybe you did. he always came. he always picked you up. no questions. no judgment.

the phone rang once, twice, and then you heard his voice, thick with sleep and concern. you could picture him now, his messy hair sticking up in every direction, his eyebrows furrowed as he glanced at the clock. "hello?" his voice was soft but alert. "are you okay?"

you tried to respond, but the words felt heavy on your tongue. instead, a broken laugh slipped out, followed by a string of nonsensical mumblings. "matty… i— i need… i can't—" you stammered, your body leaning dangerously to one side.

there was silence on the other end, and for a brief moment, you thought he might hang up, might be too tired to come, might—

"i'm coming," he said, cutting through your spiraling thoughts. his tone was firm, decisive. "stay where you are."

and just like that, he hung up. you clutched the phone to your chest, a strange warmth blooming inside you. even in your drunken haze, the knowledge that he was coming, that he was always there, made the world feel a little less daunting, a little less cold.

fifteen minutes later, his car pulled up at the curb, headlights cutting through the foggy darkness. you could see him through the windshield, his silhouette framed by the glow of the dashboard. his fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his jaw tight as his eyes searched for you.

when he stepped out of the car, the look on his face nearly broke your heart. his eyes, those deep, soulful eyes, were filled with worry and something else, something unspoken. he didn’t say anything as he walked over to you, just reached out and caught your arm gently, steadying you.

"come on," he whispered, his voice low and careful, as if he were afraid you might shatter if he spoke too loudly. his hand slid down to intertwine with yours, grounding you, pulling you back to the present moment, to him.

you leaned into his touch, your legs barely functioning as he guided you toward the car. the warmth of his hand felt like home, like safety, like everything you’d been too afraid to acknowledge all these years. you stumbled, and he caught you without a second thought, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you upright.

"i’m sorry," you mumbled, your voice cracking. "i always… i’m always getting into trouble, and you… you’re always so…"

"shh," matty hushed you, opening the passenger door and gently helping you into the seat. "it’s okay. we’ll talk later."

but it wasn’t okay. nothing about this was okay, and yet, you wanted to believe him. you wanted to believe that just by being here, by taking care of you, matty could make everything better.

the drive was quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional click of the turn signal. you leaned your head against the window, watching the city blur past in streaks of gold and shadow. every now and then, you would steal a glance at matty, his profile sharp against the dim light from the dashboard. his lips were pressed into a thin line, and his hands gripped the wheel a little too tightly.

there was something fragile between you two, something that had always been there, unspoken but undeniably real. you were both too scared to break it, to cross that invisible line that had kept you tethered to each other in this strange, beautiful way.

you swallowed thickly, the taste of guilt rising in your throat. "matty… i—"

"don’t," he said softly, his eyes never leaving the road. "just… don’t."

you bit your lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. it wasn’t fair. he was always so good to you, always there when you needed him, and what did you do? you got drunk, got into trouble, and called him at three in the morning like he had nothing better to do. he deserved more than this, more than you.

when he finally pulled into his driveway, the weight of everything settled in your chest like a stone. the world outside was still and quiet, as if even the universe was holding its breath. matty turned off the engine, but he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. he just sat there, his hands still gripping the wheel, his knuckles white.

you wanted to say something, to apologize, to tell him how much you cared, how much he meant to you. but the words wouldn’t come. they were lodged in your throat, choking you, suffocating you.

after what felt like an eternity, matty finally sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "let’s get you inside."

he got out of the car and came around to your side, opening the door and helping you out. you leaned heavily on him as he guided you up the steps to his front door, fumbling with his keys before finally getting the door open.

the warmth of his house hit you like a wave, and you stumbled inside, the familiar scent of his home: his cologne, his laundry detergent, the faint smell of cigarettes, wrapping around you like a blanket. you’d been here a thousand times before, but tonight, it felt different. everything felt different.

in his bedroom, the soft glow of the lamp cast long shadows across the walls, and you collapsed onto the edge of his bed, burying your face in your hands. you were a mess, physically and emotionally, and you hated it. you hated that matty had to see you like this, that he had to pick up the pieces every time you fell apart.

matty stood in front of you, his hands shoved into his pockets, his eyes filled with an unreadable expression. he wasn’t mad, he never got mad, but there was something in his gaze that made your chest tighten.

"you should lie down," he murmured, his voice so soft, so gentle. he knelt in front of you, carefully taking your shoes off, one by one. you didn’t stop him. you couldn’t.

"i don’t deserve you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the lump in your throat.

matty looked up at you then, his eyes widening for just a second before softening, his fingers pausing mid-movement. his hands lingered over your ankle, and for a moment, you thought he might say something, that he might deny what you’d just said, tell you how wrong you were.

but he didn’t. he just let out a quiet sigh and resumed his task, pulling off your second shoe with deliberate care. when he stood up, there was a heaviness to him, a weight in his shoulders that he was trying to hide but couldn’t quite manage.

"you’re tired," he said instead, like that was the only thing that mattered right now. not the gnawing guilt that was tearing you apart, not the tension that hung thick in the air between you both. "you should get some sleep."

he took a step back, like he was giving you space, but the distance only made the ache in your chest grow sharper. you didn’t want space. you wanted him. you wanted to close the distance, to reach out and—

"i’m always tired," you mumbled, sinking further into the bed, your fingers clutching at the edge of the comforter. your heart felt like it was splintering into a thousand pieces, and you didn’t even know why. maybe it was the alcohol loosening your tongue, or maybe it was the fact that you were so tired of pretending. tired of keeping your feelings locked up in the dark corners of your heart. "tired of being like this. tired of being a mess. tired of being someone you always have to save."

you didn’t expect the sob that followed. it came out of nowhere, rising up from your chest and spilling into the quiet room, a sound so raw it startled even you. before you could stop yourself, you were crying, really crying, the tears falling fast and hot down your cheeks, the weight of everything you’d kept bottled up finally crashing down.

matty froze, his face etched with concern, but there was something else there too, something deeper, something that made his throat bob as he swallowed hard.

"you’re not a mess," he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper as he stepped closer again, his hand reaching out but hesitating just before it touched your shoulder. "you’re not someone i have to save, okay? that’s not why i come."

his words were meant to comfort, but they only made the tears fall harder. because that was just it, wasn’t it? he was always saving you, always coming to your rescue, and you were always the one who needed saving.

"i don’t deserve you," you repeated, your voice cracking. "i don’t. you’re always there, matty. always. and i just… i just keep messing up."

this time, he didn’t hesitate. he knelt down in front of you again, his hands reaching for yours, pulling them gently away from your face. he held them tightly, his touch grounding you, but his eyes were filled with so much pain it nearly broke you.

"stop saying that," he said, his voice rough around the edges, like it hurt him to hear those words from you. "please, stop. you have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?"

the words hung in the air between you like a confession, a secret slipped out in the dead of night, too raw, too vulnerable. your breath hitched, your vision blurry from the tears, but you could see the truth in his eyes— the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in this world.

and that’s when it hit you. the weight of it all. the realization that this thing between you two had always been more than just friendship. you’d been tiptoeing around it for years, both too scared to say anything, too afraid to ruin what you had. but now… now it was all out in the open, bare and exposed, and there was no going back.

he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, catching the glistening trail of a tear as it slipped down. he leaned in, his touch impossibly gentle, as he pressed a soft kiss against the salty dampness, letting his lips linger just long enough to warm the skin beneath.

“you know,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, “you always remind me of the ocean.” his words floated between you like a memory come to life, a phrase he used to say so often in those younger days when everything felt simpler, when he knew just how to calm the storm inside you.

he gave a soft, almost wistful smile, as if the years between then and now dissolved in that moment. back then, he would kiss away your tears just like this, pulling you close and making the world feel small, safe. and even now, with all the weight of time and change, he knew exactly how to piece you back together, one kiss at a time, as if he'd never stopped being your anchor.

he brought his hand to your chin, tilting your face up until your eyes met his. “the ocean isn’t just waves and salt,” he murmured, his thumb tracing your jaw. “it’s depth, strength— a whole world no one else can see. just like you.”

his words broke something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, tasting salt and regret and years of unspoken feelings. it was a quick kiss, just a fleeting brush of lips, but it was enough to make your heart race, to make the room feel like it was spinning all over again— but this time, it wasn’t the alcohol. it was him. it was always him.

matty froze beneath your touch, his breath hitching as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. when you pulled back, the shock on his face mirrored your own, his eyes wide, his lips parted in surprise.

for a heartbeat, neither of you moved. neither of you breathed. the silence stretched, heavy and charged, as if the whole world had tilted off its axis.

then, without thinking, you leaned in again, your hands reaching for him, desperate to close the gap, to feel him, to make sure this wasn’t some dream. the alcohol made you brave, reckless even, and you wanted him so badly you could barely think straight. it wasn’t a soft kiss. it was desperate, a burst of emotion that had been suppressed for far too long, and for a second, you were terrified he wouldn’t kiss you back.

but then, matty moved.

his hands, which had been hovering, hesitant, suddenly found your face, cupping your cheeks as he kissed you back with a hunger that matched your own. it was as if a dam had broken inside him, and all those years of careful restraint, of denying what you both knew was there, came rushing to the surface. his lips were warm and demanding, and you could feel the heat of him against you, pulling you in, pulling you under.

you gasped softly against his mouth, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if you were afraid he might disappear. but he didn’t. he was right there, closer than he’d ever been, and for a moment, it was everything you’d ever wanted.

his hands slid down from your face, tracing the curve of your neck, his thumbs brushing over your jawline, almost reverent. and then, lower still, his fingers fanned out over your waist, pulling you against him. his touch was gentle, hesitant at first, but the longer the kiss deepened, the more that hesitation melted away, replaced by something raw, something real. his breath hitched as your hands moved up to his hair, tangling in the messy curls, and he groaned softly against your mouth, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

for that brief, electric moment, nothing else mattered. there were no boundaries, no unspoken rules, no fear of what would happen next. it was just you and matty, tangled together in a mess of longing and need. you could feel his heart pounding against your chest, matching the frantic rhythm of your own. the air between you was thick with years of tension finally unraveling, the pull between you two undeniable, magnetic.

and then his hands. one slipped under your shirt, just at the hem, his fingertips brushing the bare skin of your waist, tentative but craving more. you gasped again, a quiet sound that made him pull you even closer, his kiss growing more insistent, more fervent. he kissed you like he’d been waiting for this his whole life. in that moment, you were his, and he was yours.

your fingers trailed down to the collar of his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer, and you could feel him tremble beneath your touch, feel the way his body reacted to you. everything in you screamed for more, to let this moment consume you, to let the world outside disappear.

but then, just as suddenly as it had begun, matty froze.

his lips stilled against yours, his hands stopping their exploration of your body. you could feel the shift in him, the way his muscles tensed, the way reality came crashing back. he pulled back just enough to break the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged, shallow bursts.

"fuck," he whispered, his voice low, tortured, and full of regret. he kept his hands on you for a moment longer, his fingers trembling against your skin like he didn’t want to let go but knew he had to. "we… i can’t. not like this."

his words hit you like a cold shock, and you blinked up at him, your heart still racing, your mind still foggy with the remnants of the kiss. "matty…"

"i want this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, and you could hear the raw truth in it, the pain of having to stop himself. "god, i want this. i want you. but not like this. you’re drunk. i—" he broke off, his voice cracking with the effort it took to hold himself back. "i’ve waited so long, and this… it can’t be like this. i don’t want to ruin it."

you could see it in his eyes, the battle he was fighting with himself, the way his body was screaming to ignore the logical part of his mind. his hands dropped from your waist, and you felt the loss of his touch like a physical ache. he pulled away, sitting up straighter, creating a distance between you that felt like a chasm, even though he was still right there.

your lips were still tingling from his kiss, your skin still burning where his hands had been. it felt wrong to stop now, to let this moment slip away, but you knew he was right. even in your alcohol-induced haze, you could see the truth in his eyes— how much this meant to him, how much he was holding back for your sake.

you swallowed hard, your heart aching as you realized the weight of his words, of his restraint. he wasn’t stopping because he didn’t want you. he was stopping because he did, because he cared too much to let it happen like this.

"i'm sorry," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. you weren’t even sure why you were apologizing— maybe for starting it, maybe for putting him in this position, maybe for everything that had led up to this moment.

matty shook his head, his eyes full of regret, but also something softer, something deeper. "don’t apologize. please, don’t." his voice was thick with emotion, and he reached for you again, this time pulling you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a way that felt both comforting and agonizing. "just… rest. we’ll talk in the morning, okay?"

your head rested against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat steady and strong beneath your ear. his fingers stroked through your hair, gently, soothingly, but there was a tension in the way he held you, like he was barely holding himself together. like he was scared to let you go.

you nodded, too exhausted and emotionally spent to argue, though you weren’t sure you believed him. the morning felt so far away, and you weren’t sure if you could face what would come with it. but in this moment, with his arms around you and his fingers in your hair, it was enough. it had to be enough.

but matty didn’t sleep. he lay there, holding you close, his heart heavy with everything that had just happened, everything that had almost happened. he stared up at the ceiling, his mind racing, his body still aching with the need he’d pushed down, the need he couldn’t let himself indulge. and the fear - god, the fear - of what would happen when morning came.

would you remember? would you still want this, want him, when the alcohol was gone and the clarity of daylight returned?

matty didn’t know. and that uncertainty gnawed at him, keeping sleep far out of reach, even as he held you close, as if by holding you, he could somehow keep the world from crashing down around him.

[wix-0-nightshade]

The Worms

“Jon. What the fuck do you plan to achieve with this?” Daisy asked staring at him, arms crossed over her chest.

“I plan. To find out what the hell is going on, besides…. There started to be a worm infestation. We can’t be at the station currently. You heard what Elias said.” Jon replied as he was crouched down picking up dead worms with gloved hands and setting them in a bag.

“Elias isn’t the brightest crayon in the box, he’s been,” Basira paused trying to think on how to put it, “off. Of sorts.

“You can say that twice, giving us a “vacation” till they clean the station….” Daisy muttered clearly still irritated.

Jon stood up once again zipping the bag shut before setting it in the bag against his side. He removed the gloves and threw them in the nearest trashcan. “Let’s get out of this park, better get home since there’s no siting of the woman in red. She’s been coming up more frequent….”

“Wasn’t her name Jane? Or claimed to be.” Basira asked walking beside Daisy while Jon lead in front.

“Jane Prentiss,” Jon spoke remembering, “took me a moment. Doesn’t help with all these late nights….”

“Then sleep.” Daisy said putting it blunt. “Or you to wrapped up in those old investigations? You really need to toss those back in the cabinet and move on. You weren’t even apart of any of them.”

Jon grumbled in response thinking before finding his response. “That’s the thing. It’s. I can’t. Something doesn’t sit right with me. It’s that unsettling feeling you get in the pit of your stomach, or a thought you can’t remember but try so hard. Drives you to the edge,”

“Never thought the detective would open up.” Basira spoke up listening, “Least we could do is offer a hand. Besides being on the same team that is.”

“I’ll figure out something….” Jon muttered before silence filled between them.

———————————————————————————————————

They all continued walking before getting back to Daisy’s car. Jon paused looking towards a direction feeling like something was there…. Something watching. Daisy already got in the driver seat before Basira pat Jon on the shoulder. “Let’s go home, been a long night.”

“Right…. Yeah….” Jon replied hesitantly hearing her door soon close and it was another moment before he heard the sound faint crawling worms. He got in the car before another moment and Daisy drove off from the park without asking. Neither of them did as this was beginning to become normal. The paranoia.

———————————————————————————————————

They were halfway to Basira’s place before Jon felt something crawl over his hand. If he weren’t so still he probably wouldn’t have notice spacing off, “Wha-“ before he finished he felt it burrow in his hand. “Agh!”

“Jon?” Basira spoke turning her head back even through the dark as Daisy focused on the light. “Better not be messing around back there-“ Daisy began before the sounds started and then grow louder.

“Their worms!” Basira stated as Jon yelled in pain once more feeling worms crawl up him not realizing how quick. Basira gone to open the door but appeared locked, “Daisy-“

Daisy tried unlocking the door all the while trying to keep the worms off, “It’s not working! Damnit! They’re everywhere!” She shouted angrily.

“Okay! Okay, try and keep calhhhaaa!” Basira began but cut off short feeling several of the worms burry into her without even noticing where they’re at.

“Light! Damnit!” Jon said while Daisy gone pressing it on without a second thought. How many were there…. They didn’t know. But the surface’s were being covered quick. It was late enough there were barely any cars but they needed to get out before getting covered by them.

“Basira, glove box. Now. Grab the gun and shoot the window.” Daisy spoke firmly and direct. She didn’t hesitate opening it up and reaching for it only to find worms fall out and took her shot. The window shattered. The next moments came rather quick.

Managing to crawl out of the window she proceeded to break Jon’s window next and helped pull him out before doing the same with Daisy. How many worms got to them? How many were still crawling under their skin? It didn’t take long seeing the woman in red standing not too far from the front of the car. The three of them dealing with pain all the while managing to stand.

Basira held the gun tight, “Jon. Phone. Radio. Call, someone.” Basira told towards him and he began rummaging through his bag before finding his phone, he called backup.

———————————————————————————————————

Master Post & First

[pomrania]

Red Scare by @aismallard It might be due to word count, but I noticed that the number of strips put in the hat isn't specified, only that it's an equal number for each team; thus it's possible for the sides to not be even and/or for there not to be a saboteur at all, which fits perfectly.

Assassins at the Royal Masquerade by @electriceyespots I think this is cool. At first I wondered why there was a "no action" option, but if there's three masks drawn for a scene out of six masks total, and three players for a scene, then yeah it's possible for someone to not be able to do anything that scene. …it's also possible (albeit less likely) for there to be a scene where NOBODY can act, but you can't give guidelines for every possibility when you're limited to 200 words. There'd need to be something for it though, if I'm reading things correctly, else you'd get "nothing happens" and then know three out of the four masks which belong to players. I'm also a bit curious as to what exactly "protecting from afar" vs "protecting your employer" entails, like is it "watching for any potential assassination" vs "making sure that a given type of assassination doesn't work". Another of the (many, MANY) games that would benefit from an extra hundred words, but what's currently here seems workable, and -- more importantly -- like it's WORTH the extra work.

Door To Door Delivery to Dracula by @tiiimezombie I like the concept. I'm not so sure about the mechanics; both in terms of "I don't know if I understand them" (I'm also unfamiliar with poker), and also "isn't it dangerous to share your credit card number", but if that's actually an issue (I don't have a credit card so I don't know for sure) then it'd be easy enough to generate a random string of numbers ahead of time. The "suck it" example always makes me grin.

If It Had To Perish Twice by @ferncube …huh, I guess some changes were made to it, after it got reblogged, but that's okay. It's interesting to have different goals associated with different colours of dice, and I'm intrigued by the idea of replacing them depending on stuff. On a reread, the stuff with the black dice makes perfect sense, because there's no chance of succeeding, but it's literally a "lost cause". I think "what happens if you don't have any dice of a colour left to roll" (as in, they've all been replaced by other dice, not that you don't have sufficient dice of that colour in your dice bag) got lost in the edit, which, that happens even without a word limit.

Doing what I did last year (and hooboy but that post took forever to find, tumblr is a functional website), and talking about the @200-word-rpgs (it has its own blog now!) that I found interesting, as the compilation post comes out.

Canned Vegetables by @moth-surface I love the concept here, of finding ways to describe XYZ as though it's ABC, while still being truthful. I don't think I'd be able to play this as-is, since I don't know much about different vegetables, and this relies on both parties having a good deal of background knowledge; but I'm glad that it exists.

HEAVY METAL VAN WIZARDS by @henchmaxxing I have a fondness for things where all the stats are individual words from a phrase that describes stuff overall. …and on my reread of this one, for writing it up, I noticed something I hadn't registered before: that your character's stats are assigned by the OTHER players, presumably in accordance with how the character had been illustrated, and okay that's really cool. I also like the mechanic of ties being broken by who can metal scream the best, that's great.

Holy RPG, Batman! by @catsarehumanstoo This is a fun concept. I really like how a particular result comes from the most likely value when you roll 2d6, but especially how that's simultaneously desirable AND undesirable. There's some fun dice stuff there.

Radio Prophets by @toy-dragon I wish my brain was working more (it's nearing midnight) to say how I like this. The very concept, of flipping through the radio for phrases, that's a good one. The idea of interpreting a prophecy, then interpreting its misinterpretation, that's fascinating. Also, the bit about how if nobody responds, you can't try again until something timed by the car stopping; although now I've a bit of a question of whether "next full stop" means "the car comes to a complete stop, like at a stop sign" or "the car is parked and turned off". But I feel that's something which would be negotiated on a per-roadtrip basis.

Rhyme Schemes by @bookoramaenderteeth "Transforming things into things that rhyme with it" is a classic. I appreciate the twist here, where after the power's been used a certain number of times, it has to become a more complex rhyme.

If you're reading this and have no idea what I'm talking about... well I prolly shouldn't have left my "this is what the post is about" to the end, especially not late at night. But basically there's an event going on where people write up RPGs with a word count maximum of 200. If you're curious, check the blog mentioned in the first paragraph.

[docholligay]

It's so hard when a story comes at it with completely different assumptions than you. The story calls what's going on with Rue love, and true love, and says that's enough to have saved Mytho. I can respect that the story is about that, and understand that, but it feels so meaningless to me. We found out what, like 2 episodes ago. that Rue even knew him when she was little. So we've had no time in invest in what he might mean to her, we're just supposed to take it on faith.

Not for the first time, I worry that this story is so caught up in the idea of its 'reveals' that it forgets that we need to be emotionally invested in what it asks us to care about, I would say 80% of the time I would prefer time to work on an idea to the surprise of it. A surprise can be done with EXTREME skill, but that's not always or even often the case.

Please note I have never seen this and am watching spoiler-free! Please don’t confirm, deny, or explain anything, even if it’s historical or cultural! Thank you! There is a discussion discord here for all your spoilery needs!

[angeloftrumpets]

Thinking about the other f/o 🥹🥹🥹

[lavenderspence]

Bump Relief - S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, pregnant reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Making you comfortable while you're pregnant is his number one priority, so he decides to give JJ's little trick a try

Request: maybe Spencer hearing from JJ or reading somewhere that holding the baby bump relieves the mother and decides to try it on his girlfriend/wife? 

A/N: So a few days ago, I asked for short requests because I was dying to write something short. I sat down to write, and it got a little longer than I anticipated(I have no excuse). It's a known fact I can't write anything short, so I don't know why I try. I was going to post this tomorrow, but I really needed the serotonin I get from posting a fic, so enjoy! 

masterlist | requests are closed!

Spencer was twirling a pen between his fingers, deep in thought. All of his thoughts were about you because of course they were. 

He thought about you while he fell in love, proposed, and watched you walk down the aisle towards him. You occupied every waking moment when he wasn’t focused on his work, friends and mother, or hobbies. You were a constant in his life, and have been for years. 

But he’d been thinking about you a lot more in the last 6 months, and especially the last few days. About you, and the little angel.

At 34 weeks pregnant, you were glowing from the inside, just as beautiful as you’d been in your wedding dress. Or that’s what Spencer saw when he looked at you. 

But along with all the beauty of growing your little one came the few negatives, some of which he couldn’t help but notice too. How you hadn’t been wearing your wedding rings since the start of your third trimester. 

Or the light sheen of sweat on your brow just going up the stairs to your apartment. Or even the discomfort at the small of your back from carrying all the weight around. The small winces he heard coming from you, along with the scrunch in your eyes and nose. 

He wanted to take a part of your discomfort and bear it as his own. He’d watched you grow this little bean inside you for months, fight the morning sickness, and the only thing he’d been able to do was hold your hair and rub your back, watching as you suffered through it. 

Or the changes in your body, your clothes not fitting, or sometimes feeling like an outsider in your own skin. He’d been able to offer reassuring words, and kisses laid across your whole body, any point that sparked an insecurity in you - worshiped. 

He’d wake up in the middle of the night to satisfy your weird food cravings, or even the desire to have him as a snack. 

He’d been to every appointment with you - held your hand, wiped your tears, or kissed the crown of your head. You’d heard the heartbeat together, where he’d spoken in your ear, thankful to you for giving him the greatest gift of all to come in a few short months - being a dad. Something he’d wished for, for years, sometimes even thinking he’d never get to experience it. 

But that’s as far as he could help you and god, he wished he could do more. 

He didn’t hear JJ approaching and wasn’t even paying attention when she called his name out softly. And then again, and again. 

Snapping her fingers in front of his face worked like a charm though. 

“Yes?” He asked, after a light shake of his head to clear his thoughts. 

“Where’d you go Spence?” She leaned against his desk, giving his shoulder a small squeeze in support, “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s good,” He didn’t look or sound convincing, and watching JJ’s brow arch in question, he sighed, “Well, okay, not everything.” 

“What’s going on? Are Y/N and the baby okay?” She asked a frantic worry in her voice.

“They’re good and healthy,” Spencer confirmed, watching her let a sigh of her own. He decided then and there to seek her advice. She was his friend, and seeing as she’d been a mom twice now, she knew exactly what you were going through. 

“She’s been feeling uncomfortable, carrying the weight of the little bean around,” He smiled, simply mentioning his child softened everything within him, “And I see her trying not to show it that much, but it’s clearly exhausting her even more, and I wish there was something I could do to help, you know?” He sounded so small at that moment, rubbing his wedding band, feeling like he was failing you somehow. 

He knew that wasn’t possible, you told him daily how proud you were of him and everything he did and has done for you, but even now, he couldn’t help but worry sometimes. 

“Well, there’s this one thing that worked wonders for me when I was pregnant with Henry, and Michael too.” She started before she shared her little secret.

You breathed in deep, moving around yet again, and then exhaled a long breath. 

Your couch was one of the most comfortable things in the apartment - at least it had been before you’d started popping. Now it felt more like the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever, but you knew that was just your inability to get comfortable - well, anywhere really. 

It was a struggle finding a way to feel good, but not like your baby was sitting on your bladder, or putting more pressure on your back than needed. You had roughly 6 more weeks to go, but you already felt about ready to pop. 

Your bean was grown in size - with a tall daddy like your husband, you weren’t even that surprised. You somehow knew that they’d take even more than his height - you hoped they’d inherit his best characteristics too. His love for learning, his calmness, and most of all his heart. Maybe his hair too - you loved his hair. And his smile. God you simply loved him.

You couldn’t wait for him to get home - the only time you felt like your whole body could relax was whenever he was with you, one hand or both thrown over your bump in a protective manner, talking to you and your baby quietly. 

You tried a few more times to get comfortable, a few different positions - leaning on your left, your right, or even with your back straight, and nothing worked.  

Another deep exhale left you and you simply gave up - lying on your back and praying for no uncomfortable sensations for at least a few minutes. 

Just as you felt your eyes droop - you wanted a few minutes to simply breathe - you felt a little kick to your left. It didn’t hurt, luckily for you, your little one seemed to be a pretty calm, small bundle so it wasn’t often any cry for attention left you rattled.

You did let out a little chuckle, rubbing the spot. As you rubbed at your stomach, small kick after small kick under your hand, you heard a key being inserted into the lock - the door opening and closing, keys rattling on the key hanger next to the door. 

“Sweetheart? Where are my girls?” He asked, as you heard the familiar sounds of him hanging his jacket and satchel, and taking off his shoes. You’d decided the gender would be a surprise, but Spencer insisted that it was a girl - you had a feeling he wanted to be a girl dad. 

You raised a hand, waving in the direction of the door, not wishing to move now, “We’re here, love.”

You didn’t attempt to push yourself up, you just stayed where you were, rubbing your belly and waiting for your husband to make his way over. 

Sure enough, just a few seconds later he was kneeling next to the couch close to your head, moving pieces of hair away from your face.

“Hi.” He whispered before he leaned down and laid a series of small kisses all over your face - one on each cheek, one on your forehead and nose, finishing with a gentle press of his lips against yours. It still made a small shiver run through you, just like it always did.

“Hi.” You returned when he pulled away, watching him as he leaned towards your belly then, kissing just next to where your hands were still sitting. A kick followed his kiss like your baby knew it was his daddy having returned from work. 

“Hi, little love.” It was his little nickname for them, and you loved it. You ran a hand through his hair then, soft and thick to the touch. 

With his hand sitting next to yours, wedding band gleaming in the light, he pulled you into another small kiss. His face was inches away from yours. 

“Can you stand up for a second, love?” He was whispering, content in keeping you three in a small bubble of touch and soft words. 

“Why?” It sounded like a whine, but in your defense, everything felt more comfortable than before now that he was there. 

His eyes softened then, understanding written all over his face, and a small smile on his slightly chapped lips too. 

“Just want to try something JJ suggested. Please? It’s going to feel good, I promise.” He kissed your brown in reassurance, and promise. 

You sighed again, allowing him to pull you up. 

“If I hate this, you have to go get me those super sour lemon candies from the candy store on the other side of town, okay?” You bargained with him. You’ve been craving those since last night, but he’d been going out on a limp for your every whim and you wanted to cool it for a day or two and allow him some time to breathe. 

He smiled softly, hand on your lower back, moving up and down. 

“Okay, sour lemon candy it is.”

“What are we doing again?” 

“Okay, I’m going to settle behind you, and I want you to lean your upper body against me, lay your head on my shoulder,” He instructed, moving behind you, hands on your hips just like he’d told you to do. His scent filled your nostrils, and you moved your head to the side to nuzzle his neck. He kissed your head, “Okay, now relax, and let me do all the work, yeah?” Again, soft, in a whisper. 

“What work -” You started before you felt his hands settle underneath your bump, holding onto it, and allowing the weight to fall on his hands instead of falling on you. You felt light like you were no longer carrying your little bean, but instead, it was safely nestled into his father’s arms. A half sigh-half moan left you, so relieved,  thankful in that moment, to JJ and to your husband. 

“Good?” He asked. Tears gathered in your eyes, so overwhelmed by the reprieve. You nodded, just a tiny bit choked up at that moment. 

“So, so good. Thank you.” You said, one hand moving to cup gently around his, face once again burying into his neck. You couldn’t believe the universe had granted you this man to be by your side for years to come. This dedicated, adorable, kindhearted man, and all his care. 

He rubbed his thumb against your bump, feeling your little girl kick against him, and he kissed your hair, holding you both, doing his very best to help in any way he could. Just like he always would. 

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[stevesherdaddynowlover]

indifferent [s.h.] 18+

an: heyyyy me again so yeah could not stop thinking about a pathetic steve so here we are!! enjoy and feel free to send suggestions, concepts, or just chat!!

side note i listened to i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys on a loop while writing this so do with thag what you will!

masterlist here!!

summary: you and steve are coworkers and while you try (and fail) to act like he doesn’t exist, he’s a little obsessed with you and would do anything to have your attention

(fem!reader x steve harrington)

warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, public teasing (nothing too crazy), jealous reader, dirty talk, f masturbation, fingering, biting, kissing, spit, handjob MDNI!!!!!

wc: 15.5k

When it came to Steve Harrington, you were indifferent. 

You didn’t fall in with the group of girls who fawned over him like some king, worshiping the ground he walked on and giggling at his attempts at jokes. But you didn’t fall in with the other group either. The ones that hated him, that called him names and rolled their eyes when he walked in the room with a smile on his face. 

So you fell somewhere in the middle. To you Steve Harrington was your coworker, someone you often had to pick up the slack for or cover for when he was running late. You wouldn’t call him a friend but wouldn’t say he was your enemy either. 

The arrangement the two of you had worked well for you. You’d cover for him or save his ass when needed, and in turn he’d leave you alone. Well sometimes he would. You didn’t mind him but sometimes it seemed like he could go on forever and you just…it drove you a little crazy, okay? He was good about leaving you be, making small talk for a little before the both of you quieted down and went about your shift. 

Part of this arrangement was you teasing him until his cheeks burned and his felt fuzzy, but that was neither here nor there. 

But sometimes you think he just couldn’t help it. He’d start going on about something and then it would be 45 minutes later and he’d still be going. You let him do this about once or twice a week. You didn’t mind him or his company, so if it made him happy to ramble on every once in a while you could live with that. He was a yapper and you were quiet. You would hum along to something you’d heard on the way to work and entertain his chit chat for a few minutes but that was really it. 

Did that mean you couldn’t appreciate that he was actually really pretty? Of course not! He had dimples that made him seem boyish and sweet, even when he was being a menace. His hair was perfect, especially after he’d spent the day running his hands through it a million and one times. His lips were pouty and pink and so what if you stared at them when he was droning on about something? A perfect nose that you’d admired the slope of more times than you could count when he was sitting beside you going through returns. 

He was pretty. You wouldn’t deny that. But that was it. No more, no less. It didn’t mean you liked him or wanted him or would fall to your knees for him like half of Hawkins did. Sure, you passed the time at work by teasing him and making him squirm, but it was only because you were bored and he was there, all pretty and willing. 

You were indifferent. 

              ****************************************

Steve liked you. 

If you were in the same room as him he couldn’t help but to watch you. He didn’t know if you saw him and he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d watch the way you’d tuck your hair behind your ear once every few minutes. He’d watch you scrunch your nose when you were reading and pout your rosy lips when sorting through dvd’s. God you were just so pretty. 

He wanted your attention all the time, he craved it. He knew he looked like a little lovesick puppy the way he followed you around and hoped you’d smile at him or indulge his ramblings every now and then. 

Pathetic. That’s what he was when it came to you. Sometimes you were a little mean to him but he liked it, loved anything you’d give him. He would even show up late on purpose sometimes just to hear you scold him! 

“M’not always gonna be here to cover for you, Harrington. Be a big boy and get to work on time.”

His cheeks would be pink and he’d give you a shy smile, promising this was the last time but you both knew better than to believe that. You didn’t put up with his bullshit, you called him out when he needed it and you didn’t try and act like somebody you weren’t around him. He loved it. 

Like today, you’d barely come in the door before he was on your heels, going on about some party from the weekend before and how it was sooo lame and that he didn’t have any fun. He’s so occupied with his rambling he doesn’t realize you’ve stopped until he slams into your back, hands coming up to grip your shoulders so you don’t both fall over. 

Your hands grip the counter just in time and he expects you to turn around and gripe at him, scolding him like a toddler who’d been on your heels but you don’t. You huff a laugh and playfully shove at his shoulder, shaking your head. 

“Jesus, Harrington. Maybe I need to get you a leash, hm?” 

And maybe Steve likes that a little too much because he can feel the tips of his ears burning and blush working its way up his neck and covering his cheeks in a pink that makes him squirm. 

He watched you quirk an eyebrow at him, a knowing smirk on those lips he’s dreamed about for months and he wonders why he’s not more embarrassed, why his heart is racing and his cock is swelling in his pants. Fuck.

“On second thought, I think maybe you’d like that a little too much.” 

              *************************************

One thing you love about working with Steve is teasing him. You’ve done good to not let him get too close to you, staying neutral when it comes to his antics but you can’t help the giddiness you feel watching him blush and squirm when you’re mean to him. You’ve come to learn he likes when you embarrass him. 

You’re embarrassed to admit it makes you feel a little powerful, a little special when you make him this way. He’s not the big, bad, ‘King Steve’ he was in high school when he’s in front of you, oh no. You think he’s quite pathetic the way he’s practically attached to your hip and you relish in the way he hangs onto every word you give him, especially considering you don’t give him much. 

Like today you’re perched on a stool at the cash register, barely working oscillating fan doing little to cool you down when the ac is shitty, pushing around warm air that makes your thighs stick together and leaves a sheen of sweat on your forehead. You hate the heat, but what you don’t hate is the way Steve’s eyes are glued to your thighs, watching closely every time you readjust or a bead of sweat slides down your leg. 

“Careful, Steve, I won't be happy if you drool on my leg.” That snaps him out of it, shoulders thrown back as he whips his head up to your face and oh yep! There’s those red cheeks you’ve come to like so much. 

He opens his mouth to say something, probably nothing that would make sense but you spare him from trying to explain his wandering eyes, reaching down into your bag to pull out your next bit of entertainment for the day. 

This’ll be good.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him watching you closely and you can’t help the smirk you wear when your fingers find what you were looking for, wrapping around it and pulling it out for Steve to see. You don’t miss the way his lips part or the way he grips the counter in front of you. 

“They’re my favorite,” you wave the cherry blow pop in front of you like you’ve found gold, smirking at the way his eyes follow it through the air, “I only have the one but I can share, I guess.” 

It would be rude of you to not offer him any. You might tease and be mean, but you certainly weren’t rude!

Ripping the wrapper off you waste no time, sticking the sweet treat in your cheek, throwing away the trash and swinging your legs around so you’re face to face with Steve, knees pressed against his as your feet dangle off the stool. 

Maybe you could blame the way you make a show out of it on the lack of customers today. You’ve been here for 4 hours and only a handful of people have come in. Yeah, that’ll do. That’s why you pull it from your mouth with a pop that makes him flinch, lolling your tongue around the candy in a way that makes his eyes glaze over. You can hear him gulp when you hollow your cheeks and close your eyes, pretending like the taste of artificial cherry is what’s making your ears buzz and your heart race. 

Dragging the blow pop from your mouth you gasp, letting your tongue swipe against your bottom lip that you’re sure is shiny with spit. “Oh, where are my manners! Here ya go, Harrington, have a lick.” 

Not giving him a second to react, you surge forward, pushing the sucker against his lips before he has the chance to open, smearing the stickiness and your spit around his mouth and smiling wide at the sight of him, a tint of red around his pouty lips that suits him well. 

“Messy boy, aren’t you?” You swipe your thumb over his lips, collecting some of the mess and you can see the way his tongue peaks out and you know he’s dying to let it touch your thumb. You pull back before he can, popping your thumb in your mouth and humming around it as if it’s the blow pop itself. 

“Told you I could share!” 

You could be indifferent to him and still want to make him melt to his knees for you, right? 

             **************************************

Steve thought about the cherry blow pop incident for weeks. He was surprised he didn’t cum in his pants like a teenager when the spit soaked treat touched his lips or when he watched you suck on your thumb after it swiped across his mouth. 

That was just one example of how you tortured him, how he loved it. He’d had to go home that night and barely made it through the front door before he was pulling his cock out and picturing you on your knees in front of him, teasing him for being a “messy boy.” 

You had no idea. 

This shit would happen, these events that Steve was positive were chemically altering his brain chemistry, and he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you? You’d do something like that, something so hot it was engraved in his mind forever and then five minutes later it would be as though it never happened. You’d smirk at him, go back to what you were doing and spend the rest of the day ignoring him or giving him one word responses while he begged at your feet for a scrap of attention. 

He really was like a puppy. 

So he was confused, beyond confused on if you were friends, if you wanted him…he just didn’t know what to make of it. He hadn’t seen you act this way with anyone else and it made him feel…special. God he was pathetic. 

The problem with all this was that he wasn’t entirely sure you didn’t hate his guts. I mean yeah, you’d tease and scold him when he was being an idiot and you were mean but never cruel or malicious. But you also never really went out of your way to start a conversation, never really cared to keep one up with him either. You rarely smiled at him, which killed him, because he saw the way you’d laugh at something Robin said or the amusement dancing in your eyes when the kids came in to raise hell. You never let him have it though, and fuck he wishes you would. All he got were teasing smirks and he wasn’t complaining about them, not one bit, but he wanted to see if he could make you all sweet and mushy like everyone else did. 

There’s been a few times he’s caught you staring but you never back down, never look embarrassed to have been watching him and he wonders if you were staring so hard to put a curse on his bloodline or something! He wouldn’t mind if you were, the feel of your eyes on him somewhat satiate the craving he has for you. 

He’s thinking about you again, just like always. In fact he’s so deep in thought, leaned forward letting his chin rest in his palm that for once he doesn’t notice you come up behind him. 

He wishes he would have noticed you because then maybe he could have prepared himself to talk you and then maybe he wouldn’t have fucked everything up the way he did. Maybe it would’ve gone differently and ended without you in tears and him feeling the world's biggest douche bag. 

“Dreamin’ about me, Harrington?” 

“Aren’t I always.” He meant for it to come out teasing—but it didn’t. Now you were staring at him and he was staring out the window, the tips of his ears burning and he wished he could swallow his own tongue. 

“Anyways, any chance you’ll cover my shift this Friday?” 

“Why? Where are you going?” Full on pouting now he finally met your gaze. You never missed a shift, in fact you were the only one that anyone could count on to pick up extra shifts. 

“Who are you, my daddy?” 

His fingers twitched on the counter in front of him and neither of you missed the way his throat bobbed. Jesus Christ you made him crazy. “If you must know, I have a date and Friday is the only day that works.” 

Wait—what? You had a date? With someone who was not him. Based on the way his heart dropped to his ass, he realized he might want far more than just your attention. His throat clogged as he looked at you, waiting as patiently as possible for his answer but fuck a date? You’d never gone on one as long as he’d known you—well that he knew of. 

“But…you don’t go on dates.” 

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Oh he was fucked now. He’d opened his big mouth and pissed you off—not in the way he’d liked either. “Well I just, I just meant I’ve never seen anyone ask yo—I didn’t think anyone…or you…I’ve never seen you go on one so I just figured you didn’t.” His foot could not get any further down his throat. He was fucking this up royally, but he was flustered! The pretty girl he liked was going out with someone, god knows who, and his feelings were a little hurt, even if he didn’t have the right! 

“Forget it.” Any amusement you’d held towards him vanished, something else passed over you that he recognized as hurt and then anger. Lots of anger. 

“Wait! M’sorry, I didn’t mean it like tha—”

“No you wait, Harrington. I don’t care what you think or what you think you know, it’s none of your business. I didn’t ask for you to question whether it was possible someone could like me enough to take me out, I asked if you’d cover my shift. Which—by the way—is not a big ask considering I cover your ass at least two times a week! But forget it, asshole, I’m sure my date was a fluke anyways, right?” 

Before he could apologize or even blink you’d stormed away, slamming the break room door behind you. Shit he was an idiot! A huge, massive, blubbering idiot who’d made you more mad than he’d ever seen. His words got all jumbled around you anyways let alone when he was jealous over someone else getting to take you out. 

He’d fucked up big time and was just sure you were cursing his bloodline now. 

                 *********************************

Big, angry tears rolled down your cheeks in the employee bathroom you’d locked yourself in for the last twenty minutes. You were pissed, livid even, but more than that you were hurt. Which was only making you more mad, because why the hell did Steve Harrington have the power to hurt your feelings! He wasn’t anyone to you but a coworker, maybe an acquaintance, and yet here you were crying in the bathroom at work because he…what? Didn’t think you were pretty enough or cool enough or—whatever he fuckin’ thought—to date? 

Okay, sure he didn’t say that exactly, but how else were you supposed to take his blubbering. And yeah, for the most part you were quiet and reserved and didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have feelings for godsake. 

At the end of the day Steve was a guy, a cute guy that you’d admired for his beauty and wouldn’t deny that he was overall sweet and kind, and you were a girl, a girl who apparently was not meant for dates. 

And that hurts your feelings more than you’d care to admit. 

A knock on the door had you wiping at your cheeks furiously, though at this point nothing would be able to hide your red cheeks and swollen eyes. “Who is it?” You cringed at how your voice sounded cracked and whiny. 

“It’s Robin,” Oh thank god. Thank fucking god it wasn’t Steve. “Dingus is out here looking like he’s about to have a meltdown but won’t tell me what’s up, just said you were back here and that I should come check on you.” 

Taking a deep breath you pulled the door open just enough for Robin to slip in, quickly closing it back behind her and trying not to let your bottom lip tremble when she turned to look at you and gasped. You weren’t even a crier! What was going on! 

“Woa—shit I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry. Are you okay? What happened? Did they get Steve too, he seriously looks two seconds away from curling up on the floor.” Hands immediately covering your face you sigh, willing no more tears to fall until you can get out of here and into your own bed. 

“It’s not, I just—I really don’t wanna talk about it right now, okay? Do you think you could start early and cover the rest of my shift? I promise I’ll make it up to you I just…Rob I just need to go home.” 

“Of course I can, are you crazy? There’s nothing to make up. Go! I’ll tell Harrington you’re not feeling well and he’s stuck with me for the rest of the night,” giving you a reassuring squeeze as you gathered your things you’d grabbed on the way in here you gave her what you hoped came off as a thankful smile, “and when—if—you wanna talk about this, I’m here. Just so you know. I can listen sometimes despite what they all say.” 

You nodded, squeezing her hand and giving yourself one last look in the mirror, grimacing at the utter mess you saw staring back at you. Hiking your bag on your shoulder you fled the safety of the bathroom and all but ran to the door. 

Steve was with a customer, the polite smile he had on his face completely wiped off when he caught a glimpse at your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. You didn’t spare him one look, practically running for the door without uttering a word in his direction. 

God he felt like a piece of shit. He doesn’t think he’d ever seen you upset, let alone crying. He’d fucked up bad and didn’t know how to fix it when he’s sure you wouldn’t give him the time of day now. 

He’d have to find a way to make this better, the pit in his stomach growing when he thought of you being upset—hurt—because of him. 

He stood there staring at the door until Robin came up beside him, a concerned look on her face as she studied him. “Did she say what happened?” 

“No, she didn’t. Just said she needed to go home and didn’t want to talk about it. I’ve never seen her so upset though, I’m worried.”

He was thankful she didn’t call him out for his bullshit. It was obvious whatever happened had been between the two of you and he didn’t think he couldn’t take Robin ripping into him right now, even if he deserved it.

“Yeah, me too.” And fuck he was. 

             *************************************

3 days since Steve had made you cry. The more you thought about it, the worse you felt because if you were being honest with yourself, maybe there was a small, teeny tiny part of you that grew fond of Steve. Steve with his goofy smile and bashful grin when he’d tell you stupid jokes. 

It was one thing to be hurt because he’d been a jerk, but now you were dealing with feelings you didn’t want. You’d been hurt because you liked Steve and hearing him say…well you guess he didn’t say much, just stumbled his way through some sentences that all started pretty shitty, your feelings were all twisted up that he viewed you a certain way. 

But instead of thinking too hard about these newfound feelings you had, you chose to ignore it completely. Obviously! You didn’t have the time or energy to worry about what Steve Harrington thought of you, especially when you glance at the clock on your nightstand and shit you’re gonna be late for work! 

This is your first shift in 3 days and your stomach turns because you know you’ll be working with Steve. It also happened to be Friday, the day of your date that you had canceled in a fit of hurt and anger when you got home from your last shift. But based on how that jackass you couldn’t even remember the name of took it, you’d dodged a bullet. 

You’re pulling into Family Video before you know it, dread washing over you and it doesn’t help that the humid summer heat as your bare thighs sticking to your seat, it only adds to your frustration. You make no move to actually get out, but you know you can’t afford to miss a shift or risk this job so you get it over with, pulling yourself out and walking in before you say fuck it and head back home. 

Walking through the front doors you see him immediately, standing behind the counter with worry etched between his brows and a small frown on his face. He looks like a kicked puppy, staring you down as if you’ve wronged him. 

“You’re late.” 

You stiffen, spine straightening at his words and a string of curses are on the tip of your tongue, ready to lash out at him because how dare he. But before you get the chance he’s speaking again, effectively cutting off the tyrade you had going on your head. 

“And that’s fine, totally fine! You’re just never late so I was worried, but then again I know today’s Friday so I wasn’t sure if you’d be showing up at all…I didn’t get the chance to tell you the other day I’d already told Robin I’d cover her shift today but I talked to the boss and if you need to go you can, I can manage one night by myself, I swear!” 

You didn’t answer him, walking past and heading to the break room to hang up your things and try and mentally prepare for what was sure to be the longest shift of your life. The only thing you had going for you was that it was a Friday night, so hopefully you’d be busy and not have time to stress over being stuck with Steve. 

When you come back out he’s standing in the same spot you left him, staring around like a lost little kid waiting for someone to give him direction. Well you won't be doing it tonight. Wordlessly you take a seat on the stool, trying your best to ignore his stare burning into the side of your face. You’d snap at him if you didn’t think you’d have a meltdown. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? I know you said tonight was the only night that would work for your date and I swear to you I can handle it. The place’ll still be standing tomorrow.” 

Maybe you should go. You could go home and lay in your bed and wallow some more, eat some ice cream and try and forget the past week had ever happened. But you couldn’t. You needed the money and you certainly weren’t gonna hide from Steve when he’s the one that fucked up. So with all the courage you can muster you turn to him, doing your best to give a blank face so he can’t see the hurt brewing behind your eyes. 

“No, Harrington. I don’t go on dates, remember?” 

            **************************************

Steve watches you turn away from him and fuck, okay he deserved that. He was a major asshole who had spent the last 3 days trying and failing to figure out how to get you to forgive him. 

Then you walk in looking so pretty that for a second he forgets that you’re mad at him, that he had fucked up. But then he sees your eyes and they look sad, detached and that kills him all over again. 

If he thought you might have disliked him before then he had no idea how good he had it! He’d give anything for you to smirk at him, to call him an idiot or to roll your eyes and pretend like you didn’t care when he rambled on, even though he could tell you did care, your eyes always gave you away. 

“Can I please just—”

“No.”

“Please, I’m begging for you to just—”

“No, Steve.” 

“But—”

“Nope.”

“Goddamnit please just let me at least try and explain myself a little bit. I know I don’t deserve it but I hurt you and I never, ever wanted to do that. Please. 5 minutes, honey. Please.” 

He thinks he’s shocked you, eyes widening the tiniest bit before you shrug at him, casting a quick look his way before you turn back around and face away from him. 

“I’m listening.” 

Doing your best to ignore the fact that he just called you honey, he’s never done that, you turn to him and shrug, trying to act indifferent but on the inside you’re dying to know what he has to say. You want to know what he really thinks even though it goes against everything you’ve ever thought or stood for. 

Jesus Christ you were the pathetic one, hoping for the reassurance of King Steve. Highschool you would absolutely kick your ass if she could see you now. 

“I’m not…good at sorting my thoughts, especially around you and the shit I said the other day came out so wrong, so not how I meant it and I just—fuck I’m sorry. I never want you to be sad or hurt because of me…or anything at all,” He didn’t even know how to properly say anything without it coming out that he just liked you so much it made him a fool! “I was not trying to suggest people didn’t want to take you out, that came out all wrong. I’m sure there’s a line of people just waiting for you to give them a chance,” I would know, I’m front and center. “But I was just surprised because I hadn’t ever heard you talk about going on dates so I guess I just assumed…I don’t know. I’m an idiot who was also maybe just a little jealous and fuck it’s not even my business what you do! The point is that I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings, it was never my intention.” 

It had been a few minutes with neither of you saying anything, the store empty and only the buzz of the crappy ac could be heard around you as he waited for you to say something, anything. 

“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness? I’ll do it, I swear. I hate you being upset with me, it fuckin’ sucks.” He couldn’t help it, his skin was crawling the longer you stayed quiet and he thinks he’d do anything to get you to not look so sad. 

He hears a small huff from you and if he was looking he’d have seen it was a small laugh of disbelief. “I may be mean but I’m not cruel, Harrington. I wouldn’t make you get on your knees on this floor.” 

Relief flooded through him and despite the humidity swirling around in the air he swore he felt cooler, lighter than he did before. “Does this mean I’m off your shit list then?” 

Your laugh was loud this time and he felt his chest swell with pride that he had been the one to cause it, even if he hadn’t meant to. 

“What makes you so sure I have a shit list?” 

“Oh come on, you definitely do.” Things felt somewhat normal again and it eased the ache in his chest that had lived there for 3 long days. Maybe this whole thing would make you guys even closer, actually make you friends. 

“Alright, maybe I do. And you’re definitely on it, but not because of what happened,” He found himself smiling at you and if he looked close enough he swore he saw a ghost of a smile on your lips before you wiped it away with the back of your hand, “but about the other day, I…you did hurt my feelings. I know, it’s shocking I have them but every once in a while I’m reminded I’m just like the rest of you, unfortunately. Look, I’ve worked with you a while and you’re sweet, Steve. You’re a good guy and when you were saying those things…I know you didn’t mean it the way it came out, but it made me feel..fuck I hate this shit. It made me feel like you thought I wasn’t good enough or pretty enough or some shit like that and it just…it fucked with me, okay? But I know you’d never be cruel like that so I forgive you. We’ll forget this happened so I don’t have to talk about my feelings anymore and we’ll be good. We are good. Fuck I’ll even admit we’re friends if we can not talk about this ever again.” 

“You think I don’t think you’re pretty or good enough?” That was all his brain could think of. How the fuck could you think that? Had he not been obvious? He all but drooled over you every time you were in his line of sight. 

“Really, Steve? That’s all you got! I just said we were friends. I'd thought you’d be over the moon.” Your eyes were looking everywhere but him and he knew you were trying to deflect. You’d just been vulnerable with him and he should move on but he couldn’t stomach you thinking you weren’t good enough or pretty enough, let alone thinking that he thought those things! 

“Honey, I’d be lucky even if you even gave me a second glance. Good enough? You’re too good for me and every other sorry prick in this town. I fuckin’ swear it. I was caught off guard and jealous. Jealous that someone else had gotten you to give them the time of day!” You looked stunned but he kept going, “And I can give you all the dirty details about how pretty you are. How I spend all day practically getting paid to stare at you, what a job! How I’ve memorized every little detail of your pretty face, how I stare a little too long when you’re bent over in front of me. Or how I think about your cute little mouth wrapped around that blow pop and wish it was my—”

“Steve Harrington!” You’d slapped your palm over his mouth to shut him up and if he wasn’t enjoying how squirmy you suddenly were he’d nip at your palm to make you jump. It was nice seeing you all red faced and hot because of him for a change, even though he loved it when it was the other way around. 

Maybe he’d said too much, let his filter slip a little too far but he wanted—no needed for you to know how perfect you were. Not just to him but to anyone with common sense. 

Pulling your palm away he opened his mouth but you shot him a glare as he did, as if you could sense he was going to do it. He watched as you tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and cleared your throat bringing your weary eyes to meet his. 

“Smacking me around now?” He was a little shit, he knew it but he was sure you liked it anyway. 

“You love it.” And shit, you’d got him there. He’d let you do anything you wanted to him with a smile on his face and his heart happy. But just because he’d made you feel better didn’t mean the hurt just went away and he’d do whatever it took to fix it. 

“Caught me,” He threw you a wink that you ignored, rolling your eyes at him, “but seriously, there’s not one thing wrong with you and I’m sorry that I made you feel any different. I’m a dick. I’ll tell you till I’m blue in the face how pretty you are if that’s what it takes.” 

“Oh no, I’ve heard plenty, you perv. Now I know why you’re so quiet when I’m reorganizing the bottom shelves, you’re staring at my ass!” He shrugged at you sheepishly, not being near as embarrassed as he should be for admitting that. 

“But…thank you, Steve. This was just a misunderstanding that you’ve more than cleared up. We’re good, Harrington. I’m good.” And the relief he felt was seen on his face and felt throughout his body. He could’ve used the moment to be sweet, dragging out the conversation but you still looked a little uneasy about opening up to him so he thought it better to go back to territory you were comfortable with, him annoying you. 

“Oh I know we’re good! We’re friends now, remember? Don’t think I’ll ever let you forget it.” 

              *************************************

Things between you and Steve had been…good. 

There was a bit of tension between you, the kind that made your throat dry when you looked at him and your thighs clench when he whispered something in your ear if customers were around and he didn’t want them to hear. Maybe it was from the things he admitted or maybe it was because you were suddenly much more aware of Steve. 

You’d had your talk, if you could call it that, a few weeks ago and the time you’ve spent together since then had been mostly normal. Steve, getting on your nerves, rambling about nothing for as long as you’d let him, looking at you with those pitiful puppy dog eyes when you gave him some attention. You, teasing him relentlessly, even more now than before. Covering for him less, he’d been showing up on time almost every shift you had together. Bending over in front of him more just to hear him curse and see his cheeks flush. 

And maybe kind of developing a crush on him. 

It’s not your fault, it’s his! How were you supposed to resist him after he said he’d be lucky to go out with you, after he told you he’d been jealous someone else was, after he told you how pretty you were and how he thought about your mouth wrapped around his—

Fuck—no, you were not going down that road again. Every time you thought about what he said, how genuine and needy he seemed when he talked about you, your head got all fuzzy and your knees threatened to give out. It was all you could do not to pounce on him the second the words left his mouth. 

So yeah, you had a big fat crush on Steve Harrington. 

He’d also taken your comment about being friends to heart, bringing it up every chance he got and using it as an excuse for the two of you to spend even more time together. You’d walk in Family Video and he’d flash you that smile, opening his arms for a hug you pretended to hate but in reality looked forward to every day. 

“Hello, friend.” 

“As your friend I have to tell you how pretty you look today.” 

“C’mon friend, come to this party with me. It’ll be lame without you.” 

You’d threatened to revoke his “friend” privileges and he’d gasped, clutching his chest dramatically and pretending to stumble to the floor. It took everything in you not to giggle at his antics. You were quickly becoming obsessed with Steve, and even more obsessed with how quick you could get him to turn into a puddle at your feet. 

That was how you find yourself here at the Hawkins public pool with your bag strap digging uncomfortably into your shoulder and sweat dripping down your back, wearing what you’d bet was a grimace as you walked around the scattered chairs looking for Steve. 

One thing that remained constant and strong was the mid summer heat that took your breath away and put you in a less than pleasant mood most of the time. Poor Steve got the brunt of your frustration but he never complained. And that’s why you finally agreed to come to the pool with him, because he was sweet and patient and adorable, even when he was annoying the shit out of you. 

What you didn’t account for was the added heat you’d endure from seeing Steve shirtless before you, arms crossed over his chest and pale pink swim trunks sitting on his hips. 

When did Steve Harrington get chest hair and why was your mouth watering over it? It made him look sexy, older in a way that erased all boyish features you’d come to love. He looked…fuck he looked hot. His hair was slicked back and you knew he’d already gotten in, too impatient to wait for the 10 minutes longer it had taken you to get here. He had a trail of hair on his lower belly that ran down under the band of his swim trunks and you think you might have actually let out a whimper at the sight. 

You took a step toward him and cursed yourself when your legs wobbled a little bit. If he saw it he didn’t say anything, righting yourself quickly and making your way over so you could toss your bag into his waiting arms, trying not to look at the patch of chest hair just inches from your face and failing miserably. 

“My own personal pool boy, a girl could get used to this.” 

It didn’t take long to figure out that the easiest and quickest way to get yourself together was to turn it on him, to make his hands twitch and his stomach clench and to tease him until he was panting like a puppy. 

“At your service, ma’am.” 

Grabbing your arm he tugged you to the chairs he’d saved for the two of you, a cooler sitting between them with the lunch he’d made for the both of you. It makes your heart skip a beat and your tummy flutters. Your sweet Stevie. 

He sat your bag down between the chairs, laying back so his arms were stretched back and crossed behind his head, a twinge in your stomach tightening as you watched him stretch out before you. A fucking Greek god. You needed to even the playing field and you needed to do it now. 

Grabbing the sunscreen from your bag you put on the sweetest smile you could conjure while your body screamed at you to straddle his thighs and kiss him dumb. “Stevie, can you help me out with this?” He nodded without thought, that’s just how kind he was, sitting up to grab the bottle from your hands. 

Before he could make a move to get up you knocked his legs apart, pushing yourself down and back so that you were wedged between his thighs, your back almost completely pressed against his front. 

He cursed behind you, trying to scoot back but your hands dug into his thighs to keep him there, a silent plea. You’re sure if you could see his face he’d look almost pained at the feeling of your skin pressed to his. 

You heard him flip the cap open and squeeze some sunscreen in his hand, neither of you saying anything for a moment before he leaned forward, his lips almost touching the shell of your ear when he spoke, “s’gonna be cold.” You nodded wordlessly and straightened up a little, pushing back further into him. 

“Fuck.” You didn’t mean for it to slip out and hoped you could blame it on the cold lotion hitting your back, but you knew that was a lie. Steve’s big, calloused hands on your shoulders and back had you holding back whines and moans threatening to climb up your throat. Jesus Christ this felt good, too good. 

Any composure you had left flew out the window at his next move and you were quickly falling behind in the one sided game you’d started with him. 

You felt his hands move down lower to where the string of your bikini tied in the back, your thighs clenching hard when he slid them toward the front, following the line of your top and just barely slipping under the cup of your breast to tease the skin there before he was pulling back and going to your shoulders again. 

Holy fuck. 

He tensed behind you when your fingers dug harder into his thighs, but you didn’t even mean to. It was just a knee jerk reaction to his fingers gliding over the underside of your boob for Christ's sake. It wasn’t until you leaned back just a little, totally innocent you were just readjusting, that you felt it. 

Steve was hard. His swimsuit did a shit job of concealing it. And he was pressed up against you so tightly you could feel him throb against your lower back when you gasped. This was your opportunity to one up him, to move ahead a few spaces. 

Head turning to the side just slightly so he was in your peripheral, you needed to make sure he was looking and listening. You spoke as if you weren’t dripping wet yourself, thighs sore from how hard you’d been squeezing them together. 

“Poor baby, touching my shoulders and grazing a pair of tits has you all needy, huh?” 

He whined low in his throat, leaning forward to press his forehead against your back. You could feel little puffs of air against your skin as he tried to compose himself, not that you’d let him. 

“Stop. Don’t be mean.” The words were whispered against your skin and you smiled. 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it when I’m mean. Gets you hard, doesn't it, when I tease you?” You were being mean, so mean, but if the way he subtly tried to buck up against you was indication of how he felt, he loved it. 

You kept going, basking in the feeling of his hands grilling your hips tight and his breathing against your back was getting faster the more you talked. 

“You really are like a puppy. It’s just so fucking cute how whiny you get when you’re like this.” 

Both of you stilled when a whimper slipped out a little too loud and all of a sudden you remembered where you were, a fucking public pool. Steve must have realized too because he pulled back, scooting far enough away that you weren’t touching anymore and you hated how you already missed the feel of his skin on yours. 

Clearing your throat you shuffled over to the other chair, glancing at Steve to see his mouth shut and eyes looking anywhere but you. Maybe you’d gone too far. You opened your mouth to apologize but before you could he was up and tugging you to the edge of the pool, jumping in and practically dragging you in with him. 

The cool water actually did a good job of cooling you down, physically and mentally. When you broke the surface, gasping for air, Steve was already there looking at you. You couldn’t read the look on his face, couldn’t tell if he was upset with you so you bit the bullet. 

“M’sorry if I went too far, Steve. It’s just…you were��the sunscreen—you were making me feel crazy so I wanted to even it up. I shouldn’t have done that though, especially not here. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

For the first time since you came up from the water he broke his stare, opting to look around you before he came closer, pulling you in so no one would hear your conversation. 

“Don’t be sorry, I’m not. I only pulled away because I was seconds from cumming in my shorts like a teenage boy and I was embarrassed.” 

Lips pulling into a smile you covered your mouth and he pouted at you, huffing like a child when he saw you trying not to laugh at him. “No need to be embarrassed, Stevie. You can’t help that you’re a needy little thing.” 

His hand swatted at yours that had come up to pinch his cheeks and you cooed at him to tease him further. “So mean.” He tried to look annoyed but failed and it made your stomach dip at how pretty he looked, drops of water falling off his lashes, lashes you and every girl in Hawkins would kill for. 

“You really are pretty, Harrington.” The tips of his ears burned bright red and he moved toward you instinctively, like he wanted to kiss you. God did you want to kiss him. But you didn’t want to do it in a public place where you wouldn’t be able to make a mess of him after so you pulled back and splashed some water in his face with a giggle. 

“C’mon big boy, let’s swim! I didn't come all this way just to stare at your cute face.” 

Although you wouldn’t mind it. 

          *******************************************

The next few weeks are quiet, work goes by painfully slow when you’re not with Steve and you hate it. Your shifts with Steve are filled with teasing touches and flushed cheeks and very little work. 

You’ve also been spending a good chunk of the time you’re not at work with Steve as well. He somehow almost always convinces you to come over to watch a movie or go with him for a late night ice cream run. You find yourself in his car or playing with his hair while you lay in your bed more often than not. 

And you love it. 

Trying to act like you weren’t obsessed with him was exhausting so you mostly gave it up. You’d smile at him more, laugh at his jokes more freely, and have become much more touchy with him. 

Neither of you could seem to keep your hands off each other if you were in the same room. He always had to have a hand on your hip or one holding your thigh and you couldn’t keep your fingers from rubbing at his neck or slipping through his hair if he was close. 

There hadn’t been a conversation about what was happening, but neither of you seemed to mind. You think that you’d become best friends who were just crazy about each other and that was enough for both of you. 

Until it wasn’t. 

If you were being fair, you knew that technically you and Steve hadn’t officially become exclusive or anything. The two of you probably weren’t even dating, even though you spent all your time together. Cuddling and teasing constantly. 

But you weren’t fair. Everyone who spent any amount of time in a public setting knew that you and Steve were, for lack of a better word, an item. If someone saw you at the grocery store or at the post office, or anywhere, it was a safe bet that Steve was two paces behind you if he wasn’t already at your hip. 

This was common knowledge. Or at least you thought it was. So it’s a surprise, a bad one at that, when you come back from your break with a smile on your face that is quickly wiped away when you see some blonde you went to school with hanging over the counter with her tits pushed at Steve, a devious smile on her face as she bats her eyelashes at him. 

All the blood rushes from your body and you’re not sure you can even keep down the sandwich you’d had for lunch. A sandwich that Steve had made for you, might you add. There’s a horrible twist in your belly and you’ve never felt such rage as you have looking at the way she toys with the collar of his shirt between her fingers and at the way he gives her a small smile and doesn’t pull away. 

You were jealous. So jealous it took the breath right out of you and made your brain go blank. One minute you’re standing there with your skin hot and heart pounding and the next you’re sliding back into your seat beside Steve with a glare so sharp it could cut glass. 

“Need help with anything or are you just gonna keep groping the staff?” If your glare was sharp your words were sharper, serious and stern and directed at the girl who was still touching Steve, your Steve. 

Both the girl and Steve’s eyes widen at your tone. She finally takes a step back and you feel like you can breathe again. You see the way Steve’s staring at you but you don’t look at him, you can’t or you might do something crazy like hit this girl, or even worse, cry. 

Once the initial embarrassment from your words wears off she straightens her back and narrows her eyes in your direction. “I think we had it handled, sweetie. Your coworker here,” You flinch at the way she emphasizes coworker and feel yourself shrink a little, “was just giving me some movie recommendations. But thanks for the offer.” 

“I’ll leave you to it then.” The words taste bitter on your tongue and you want to slap the smirk off her face so bad your palm twitches. Steve is quiet beside you and you can’t even begin to process how that adds to your fury, to the pain that’s bubbling up beneath your skin and threatening to spill out. 

You’ve taken one, maybe two steps away from the counter, ready to go back to the bathroom of shame and cry again over Steve fucking Harrington when a hand on your wrist stops you. 

The same hand, the one that belongs to the boy you’ve become enamored with, tugs you gently back to his side, hand leaving you for just a second so he can wrap his arm around your waist and tug you into his side. Your hips are touching and you feel a wave of relief wash over you, the pain and anger dissolving while his hand grips you tightly against him. 

A sick satisfaction runs through you as you watch the way her jaw clenches and her eyes dim as his arm curls around you. Coworker my ass. Steve clears his throat beside you, catching yours and her attention, “I’m afraid I’m all out of recommendations for you, but maybe my coworker here has some for you.” Before she can even think about speaking you cut her off with a faux pout, “I don’t think I do, sorry!” 

Deciding Steve isn’t worth the battle you’re more than willing to start, what an idiot, she turns around and pretends to look through the new releases for all of five seconds before she’s scurrying out of the store and leaving you both alone again. 

Steve gives one last squeeze to your hip before he moves to sit back down, the reality of your little outburst smacking you in the face. Well, this is awkward. You sit down on your stool, tapping your hands on the counter while you try and gather the courage to look at him. 

You hope he’s not upset with you and if he is well…fuck him! Just because you haven’t said it out loud doesn’t mean he’s not yours. You know for a fact if he caught you flirting with a guy he’d be pissed! All whiny and pouty and pawing at you for attention. So you were justified in being upset, totally and fully justified. 

Now you’ve worked yourself up to tell him off and give him a piece of your mind, and you turn to him to do just that when it all slips away in an instant. Because Steve isn’t upset, no, he’s staring at you with wide, bright eyes and a smirk so big and knowing you curse yourself in your head. 

Oh this is even worse! Now you’ve given him a big head, bigger than he already had! 

“So that was…interesting.” You can hear the amusement in his tone and you roll your eyes. You much prefer him all pathetic and whiny over this…cocky Steve. But really you don’t mind this either. 

“Shut it, Harrington.” You think if you weren’t so obsessed with him you’d have the decency to be even a little embarrassed at how you acted but you aren’t! You practically marked your territory in front of her and you can’t find it in you to care or regret it. 

“You were jealous. Over me! I’ll never shut up about this! I’m taking a spot in the paper for this, alerting the press as we speak!” His bottom lip between his teeth and he looked giddy like it was Christmas morning and he’d gotten the brand new shiny bicycle he’d spent all year wishing for. 

You could have denied it, but what was the point in that? Everyone already knew anyway how you felt, you weren’t exactly subtle about it. Might as well embrace it at this point. 

“And so what if I was? Figure you’re mine anyways, right?” Your cheeks tint the lightest shade of pink as you watch him take in your words, his eyes a little wide and a small shy smile on his lips. 

“I am?” 

God okay, maybe you hadn’t been as obvious as you thought the last months. 

“Well…I thought so. You take up all my time anyways, Harrington, might as well. Plus I like you—well a lot. I’m yours too, ya know. If you want I guess, I don’t know, I thought this was just unspoken between us and now you’re making me nervous!” 

His lips parted in what could either be shock or awe, you weren’t sure. He didn’t look appalled at the idea so that was a good sign, right? 

“I’m sorry I just…sometimes I’m not even sure you like me all that much so I’m just a little shocked but yes! Fuck—yes I’ll be whatever you want.” 

Maybe he was a little dumb or maybe you weren’t as good at showing your feelings as you thought but either way you’d make sure he felt wanted, needed by you. 

“Steve, if I didn’t like you I promise I would not be spending all my time with you. I’m mean sometimes because you like it and I like seeing you all messy and cute. M’kinda obsessed with you, you idiot.”

His grin widened, dimples popping out and your heart sped up at the sight. He was pretty, so pretty and despite how you acted sometimes you felt so lucky that he even wanted to spend any time with you, let alone all of it. Steve Harrington had wiggled his way deep into your heart and your brain and you think your life would be dull without him. 

“I’d ask you to pinch me but I know you’ll make it hurt,” Your hand reached out automatically towards his thigh and he swatted you away with an eye roll, “I’m obsessed with you too, have been for months. Since the first day you started actually. Want you to be my girl, wanna be yours too.” 

Leaning forward you pressed a quick peck to the corner of his mouth and you felt his head turn, trying to catch your lips. He wouldn’t get off the hook that easily, it took no effort to remember how it felt to see that girl's hands all over him. Even if it wasn’t his fault you don’t think he’d mind paying for it anyways. Add on the cocky grin he had earlier when he realized you were jealous and all of a sudden you had big plans for Steve Harrington, plans that made your thighs clench and had you pulsing around nothing. 

You cooed at him, pulling back just in time to see his brows furrowed and a cute little pout working its way on his lips. He had no idea what was coming to him and you couldn’t want to see how sorry he would be. 

“Patience is key, baby.” 

          *****************************************

It was a week later when it all clicked for Steve. 

A week of teasing touches and sneaky glances his way, even when people were looking. You’d leave a kiss on his cheek or the corner of his mouth or on the side of his neck right right under his ear. He was going crazy, body leaning forward subconsciously anytime you were near him. 

You’ve barely let him touch you and at first he was worried but you’d whisper in his ear about “payback” for making you jealous and while he was nervous, now he was just excited. And impatient, wanting and begging for you to just do it already. He couldn’t take much more teasing, his cock had been aching for what felt like forever and no matter how many times he found himself in bed, stroking himself to the thought of you, it wouldn’t ever be enough. 

He thinks you’ve finally decided to put him out of his misery, calling him earlier to ask if you could come over, that you had a special surprise that was just for him. He’d agreed without hesitation, telling you to come over whenever you wanted and that he’d be waiting for you. His parents weren’t around this weekend so he didn’t have to worry about them and he was thanking god for that. 

It had been 4 hours and 37 minutes since you called, not that he’d been counting, when he heard a knock at his door that had him all but jumping over the couch and sprinting for the front door. He practically ripped it open, grinning wide as he took you in with dreamy eyes and his stomach twisted in knots. 

You were wearing a sundress that reached about mid thigh and he had to hold himself upright with the door at the sight of your bare legs, tan and smooth and fuck he just needed to bite at the skin between your thighs. The dress had little strawberries printed all over and he’d bet money that you tasted just as sweet as the fruit. His mouth watered at the sight of your full lips all glossy with whatever you’d put on them and it took everything in him not to lean forward and suck your bottom lip into his mouth. 

He didn’t realize he had been standing there just staring until you cleared your throat, a knowing smirk on your lips as he shook his head to clear him from the daze you’d put him in. “S’pretty, you’re so pretty.” His voice was quiet and he wasn’t sure if he meant for you to hear or if he was just talking to himself. 

“Thank you, handsome. Can I come in or do I need to stand on the porch with you eye-fucking me all night?” He doesn’t think he’d ever get used to your crassness, even though he wasn’t complaining about it. He loved that you spoke your mind, no matter how dirty, and hoped what one day he’d be comfortable doing that too. 

“Right, right, yes come in,” Pulling the door open he stepped to the side so you could come in, knees wobbling when he caught a whiff of your perfume as you passed, “Are you hungry? I can…order something. I don’t have much to cool but maybe I could run to the store real quick?” 

He heard your muffled giggle as you walked through the house in front of him, hips swaying as you walked and he felt his cock twitch in his pants just looking at you. 

“Just hungry for you, Stevie.” 

You were teasing, he knew that, but he wasn’t sure you weren’t serious by the way you eyed him over your shoulder like he was your prey. And fuck did he want to be. He’d crawl around on the floor if you asked. 

By the time he followed your trail and made it through the living room you were at the foot of the stairs, lip between your teeth and hands together behind your back all innocent. You both knew better than to believe that. 

“Can I see your room?” Fuck this was happening. He nodded at you, grabbing your small hand with his and relishing in the way it felt to hold you. He led you up the stairs and was careful not to go too fast, to seem too eager. He knows you’d tease him for being so excited but based on the look in your eyes he thought that maybe you were pretty excited too. 

Pushing his door open he watched as you took in his room, eyes light as you scanned over the posters he’d hung haphazardly, some artwork the kids had drawn for him hanging above his desk. His bed was unmade and he cursed himself, as if you’d care. 

“Looks exactly how I pictured it.” 

“You pictured my room?” 

“Maybe.” 

He stood still, leaning up against the door he’d closed and locked behind him as you made your way around, lifting up papers and magazines, humming quietly to yourself. You must have been a witch or something the way he’d become so entranced with you, following your every move like he wasn’t meant to do anything else.

So when you turn around to face him quickly, he’s startled, eyes shooting up to meet yours like he’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner. 

“Alright then, on the bed.” 

The flurry of questions he has does little to deter him as he scrambles past you and pushes on the bed a little too quickly. He falls forward face first and hears you snicker behind him. He’s not sure where you want him so he hopes he’s right. He scoots back, flush against the wall, the headboard on his left and foot of the bed on his right. 

“You want this, Harrington? I’m not misreading anything, right?” 

He’s shaking his head furiously, eyes wide and mouth closed as he watches for your next move. 

“Oh now you have nothing to say? Months of knowing you and you’re hardly ever quiet. Use your words, big boy.” 

“Y-yes, I want this. Whatever you want.” 

The smile you reward him with makes his chest ache and the blood rush through him so fast he can hear it pounding in his ears. He thinks he wants you looking like that all the time, proud and pleased with him. 

“Good! It’s time for payback then.” 

        **********************************************

You really really hoped your nerves didn’t show on your face as you stood in front of Steve. You don’t think he’d notice even if they did, eyes glazed over as he waited for whatever you had planned. 

Now at this point you were over the whole jealousy thing from last week, really you were! But you played into it a little extra just so you could be mean to him right now. Although with the plans you had, you’d be being mean to him and yourself. 

Wordlessly you reached down, fingers toying with the hem of your dress and you watched as Steve’s eyes tracked the movement, throat bobbing slightly as you lifted it a few inches before letting it drop back down. 

This only lasted for a few minutes before you’d had enough, gripping your dress and almost ripping it over your head and letting it drop to your feet. What you hadn’t mentioned was that you had nothing underneath it, absolutely nothing. 

Steve drank you in, slack jawed with his eyes almost bugging out of his head when he moved from your face to your tits, staring at your already hard nipples that you would blame on the coolness in his room. His eyes moved down further and he groaned, a deep, guttural sound that made your clit throb under his stare. 

Was that some drool leaking down to his chin? 

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.”

“Can I?” You don’t think he even realized the words left his mouth and you fought the urge to laugh at how out of it he seemed already. 

“Not tonight, baby.” 

His hands fisted the sheets below him as the pet name slipped past your lips and you smiled sweetly at him. Pointing to the headboard you directed him with a quiet voice, “I’m gonna sit there,” moving your hand to point toward the foot of his bed he followed your finger eagerly, “and you’re gonna sit there, facing me.” 

He obeyed instantly, shuffling toward where’d you directed him while you climbed onto the bed and and situated yourself against his headboard with your legs stretched out in front of you. 

“Can I have your shirt?” It wasn’t anything special, a plain white t-shirt that hugged him beautifully, but you wanted it all the same. To have his smell surrounding you, covering you in him. He peeled it off so he was left in a pair of jeans that stuck to him in all the right places. Unsure of what to do he tossed it to you and you wasted no time in slipping it over your bare frame, pleased that it bunched at your hips just how you’d hoped.

You could see the disappointment in his face at the extra layer you’d added and you itched to lean forward and pinch his flushed cheeks in adoration. He was just so adorable it made you crazy. With everyone else he was strong and stern, the babysitter and protector and king of Hawkins.

But with you…with you he was soft and sweet, pliable in your hands like putty and you ate up every second of it. 

           ****************************************

Steve thinks he might have gone to heaven, you sitting across from him in nothing but his shirt with your thighs on display. 

His chest feels hot despite the cool air hitting his skin and he thinks if he doesn’t get his hands on you in the next three seconds something horrible might happen. You're giving him that teasing smile that makes his tummy clench and sends excitement zipping down his spine. 

He still can’t believe you like him, that you’re obsessed with him. It’s like a dream come true and he thinks he’s pinched himself at least 17 times in the last week. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when you call his name softly, head snapping up to meet yours and he feels dizzy all over again from how pretty you look. 

“You’re gonna watch me, okay? No touching me or yourself until I say.” Wait—what? He gives you a nod and tries not to let his disappointment show in his face, and he knows he fails based on the way you smile and shake your head at him. 

But any disappointment he had is gone in a flash when you lean back and spread your legs to give him a glimpse at just how much you like him. He might black out, he’s not sure. You’re glistening for him, a little bit of slick on your thighs and suddenly he’s starved. He audibly groans at the sight of you on display for him. 

“She’s pretty—fuck so pretty.” He’s talking more to himself than you but he sees the way you twitch at him referring to your pussy as “her” and it makes him smile shyly, still not moving his eyes from where you’re dripping on his bed. 

He watches closely as your hand trails down, rubbing over your thighs for just a second before you’re taking two fingers and spreading yourself open for him, both of you too impatient to drag this out too long. Before he can stop himself he’s moving forward, going to his knees and crawling across his bed that feels far too big all of a sudden. He doesn’t realize he’s moved until your legs are closed and one foot is pressed against his bare chest, stopping him from getting any closer. 

One hand is holding him up and the other is holding onto your ankle as he pleads with his eyes for you to let him closer, just a taste, he just needs one little taste. 

“We’ve just started and you’re already breaking the rules?” The faux disappointment in your tone makes him pout, leaning down to press a small kiss against your calf and he hears you chuckle at his attempt at distracting you. 

“M’sorry, baby, you’re just so pretty, she’s so pretty. Let me have a taste, please? I’ll be good after that, I swear. Just one taste, honey.” 

He watches in anticipation, hope is swelling in his chest as you study him and he can see the contemplation in your eyes as you take him in. He’s so close he can smell you and it lights his whole body up, cock so hard pressed up against his jeans he could cry. 

“Hmm, no,” He hears the whine he makes but can’t be bothered to care, “what fun is payback if I give in before I’ve even touched myself! You can be patient, I know you can.” You have much more faith in him than he has in himself, body slumping in defeat before he’s moving back to where you directed him the first time. 

“Can I at least take these jeans off? It hurts, baby.” 

“Fine, but the boxers stay on, sneaky.” It takes him no time before he’s peeling his jeans off, sighing in relief when some of the pressure is released and he feels like he can breathe again. 

Well he can breathe until you’re spreading your legs again, fingers slipping back down to tease at your clit as your eyes stay locked on him. His chest is tightening as he watches you. Watching the way your legs spread wider when you notice him fisting the sheets beside him. Watching the way your head falls back against his headboard when you move down to circle your messy hole, a moan so lewd coming from your mouth he feels a bead of precum drip down his cock. 

Jesus Christ, he couldn’t decide if this was heaven or hell but he’s sure that either way he’d gladly spend an eternity here. 

He’s torn between watching your face or watching your fingers in your cunt, eyes flickering between the two every few seconds so he didn’t miss something important. He remembers how you compare him to a puppy and he’s sure he’s never looked more like one than he does right now. He’s practically panting across from you and you’re the treat that would be making his tail wag—if he had one. 

“Feels so good, Stevie. This is how wet I get just from thinking about you, ya know? Always have me messy and ready for you.” 

“Please let me touch you. Fuck—please, sweetheart. Need it so bad, need you so bad. I’ll be good, I swear. Never make you jealous again. God I swear I’ll do anything.” 

He knew you were getting close, thighs threatening to close on your hand and hips lifting from the bed eagerly. He could see it on your face too—you wanted to deny him, to torture him some more but he could see you giving in. 

“You beg so pretty, Harrington. Fuck, get over here. Now.” 

He didn't need to be told twice, launching himself across the bed and fitting himself between your thighs that had opened a little to accommodate his wide frame. He waited expectantly, and you smiled down at him fondly. 

“You know, you really look like a—”

“A puppy, I know. So can I have my treat then?” 

Nodding at him you swiped your fingers through your folds and held your hand out to him, fingers shiny with you and he opened his mouth quickly. His head moved forward and he took your fingers in his mouth, lapping his tongue around them greedily, determined not to waste a single drop. He hummed around them, eyes closed so he didn't see the way you were staring at him like he’d hung the moon. 

“S’good then?” You sounded breathless above him and he could only nod, not wanting to drop your fingers from his mouth just yet. God, you tasted good. He’d compare you to a nice summer treat but the truth is you’d be perfect for any season, any day. Fuck he’d stay buried between your thighs 24/7 if you’d let him. 

He finally pulled off just enough so that he could speak, “better than a blow pop.” The laugh that pulled from you made his heart warm. It was loud and genuine, shoulders shaking slightly as you grinned at him, teeth on display and everything. 

It was quiet for a few minutes, you pressing your fingers down on his tongue and even though he’d cleaned them up, the taste of you lingered and he would gladly sit here with your fingers in his mouth for hours. 

But you had other plans. 

“Need your fingers, Stevie. They’re bigger than mine and I’m already close from watching you lap at my fingers like a little greedy puppy.” His eyes fell from yours, cheeks red and ears burning as you teased him. 

“Can I use my mouth?” 

“Mhm, not today. I already gave in way too quick, you were just too cute to say no to.” He wants to pout, to protest and beg but he thinks just watching you fall apart on his fingers will be more than enough for him. 

You part your legs further as he slips down to rest his cheek against your inner thigh. His hair tickles the soft, sensitive skin there and you giggle. He moves just enough to press a quick, open mouthed kiss and dreams about the marks he hopes you’ll let him leave there one day. 

With a nod from you he moves his eyes to your cunt, swollen and dripping, and runs his fingers over your clit just to feel your thigh twitch against his cheek. He wraps the hand he’s not using around your thigh, clutching it to him tightly as he eases two of his fingers into you. They slip in easily with no resistance and the feeling of your warm, hot walls snug on his fingers makes him grind his hips down into his bed. 

“Shit—she feels good, hugging my fingers so tight.” Your hips buck up against his hand, urging him in deeper and he smiles against your leg. A groan slips out of him when your hand slips down to rub slow, loose circles on your clit, head rolling back so that all you can see is his eyes peeking up at you. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so hot in his entire life. He can see the little beads of sweat rolling down your forehead and how you’re panting and whining above him, especially when he curls his fingers upward and finds that spongy spot that has your mouth dropping open and eyes squeezing shut. 

“There it is, yeah? That’s the spot?” You’re nodding quickly, fingers that were circling your clit are now sliding into his hair and gripping it tightly. The burn of it makes him moan against your thigh, the sting of your grip making his eyes roll back into his head almost. 

“D-don’t you dare stop, Harrington. M’close, so so close.” He doesn’t think there is anything that could get him to stop. Not when you’re dripping down his hand and your thighs are shaking like they are. 

The final straw is when he moves his mouth down a couple of inches, teeth scraping against the skin where your thighs almost touch and he bites down, hard enough to leave a mark. He hears the thud of your head knocking against his headboard and the curse that flies out of your mouth as you clench down on him so hard you almost push his fingers out. He works you through it, licking over the mark he just left to soothe the sting and slowing down his fingers once you start to twitch and whine from the feeling. 

It’s not until you're pushing his hand away and letting your legs slump that he takes a peek at you, a lazy smile on your face and hair sticking to your forehead where you’d been sweating. He knows there’s a widening grin on his face as he looks up at you, placing one last kiss before he’s sitting himself up so his legs are under yours and his hands are resting on the tops of your thighs. 

“If that’s what you call payback then remind me to piss you off more often!” 

You roll your eyes, letting your body fall back against his headboard, “Don’t get smart with me now, Harrington. Not when I’m about to make you cum. I would hate to change my mind.” 

His ears perk up and honestly he hadn’t even thought about himself since he’d gotten between your thighs, content with watching you squirm and moan around his fingers. But he wasn’t gonna turn you down, hell no! Just the thought of you anywhere near his cock had him twitching in his boxers. 

He closed his mouth, fingers coming up to mimic zipping a zipper of his lips and tossing the non existent key far behind him. You smirked at him, hand coming close to pat his cheek, almost like you’d pet his head. 

“Good boy, now turn around and take those boxers off, please.” 

          ********************************************

Holy shit. You didn’t think you'd ever cum so hard in your life. You swear you might have actually seen stars for a minute there when he curled his fingers just right. And when he bit you? How the hell did he know you had a thing for biting. 

Keeping him at arm's length had been the hardest thing you’d ever had to do, especially when he was looking at you like you were a five course meal in front of him. He’d practically been salivating at the sight of you and it took everything in you not to give into him immediately. 

But now that you’d cum, all you could think about was him. About finally getting your hand on his cock and listening to the way he’d gasp and whine with your hand around him. Just the thought was enough to send another wave of arousal and need over you, your toes curling and fingers digging into his bed. 

He still hadn’t moved in front of you and you cocked your head at him, trying to figure out why he suddenly had that sad pout on his lips. “What’s the matter?”

His cheeks were red and he looked almost embarrassed as he tried to avoid eye contact with you and you worried you’d done something to upset him. Maybe this wasn’t as good for him, maybe he didn’t like you teasing him? 

“S’just…you haven’t kissed me and I just—I wanna kiss you so bad but I didn’t know if there was a reason you hadn’t or maybe you just didn’t want to or—”

You cut him off, gripping his shoulders and pushing your lips against his that were swollen and slick with spit. He moaned against you, sighing and relaxing in your hold. Fuck—how had you not kissed him yet? 

His tongue swiped against your bottom lip and you heard the little whine he let out when you didn’t let him in, laughing against his lips. He took the opportunity to move closer, hands moving to fist at your hair and you felt lightheaded from how good he felt, how sweet he tasted. 

When you needed to breathe you regretfully pulled back, foreheads touching and noses bumping into one another as you both took big, greedy gulps of air. His eyes almost sparkled as he looked at you, a shy smirk on both your mouths. 

“Better?”

“Perfect.” It was hard to ignore the way your heart thumped against your rib cage like it was trying to fight its way out. He was perfect. Everything about him and the way he carried himself drew you to him like a moth to a flame. Your mind was consumed with all things Steve. 

And while you wanted to be mushy and sweet with him, one glance down between you had your mouth watering and fingers twitching at your sides. There was a dark wet patch on his blue boxers and the outline of his cock was prominent. You think you know why he was so cocky in high school now, he definitely had the goods to back it up. 

“Kiss me whenever you want but if you don’t get your boxers off in the next 5 seconds I might do something crazy.” 

Your words snapped him out of his post kiss haze and you laughed softly as he scrambled off the bed to pull his boxers down his legs and practically kick them across the room. You gulped at the sight of him, of his pretty and thick cock already leaking and shiny for you. You motioned him forward, eyes kind and soft as you spread your legs for him. 

He smiled when you patted the space in front of you and he crawled back between your legs and shuffled so that he was sitting in front of you, his back pressed to your front, the material of his shirt clinging to his sweaty back. Your thighs stretched around his hips but you loved the slight burn it brought you. You laid back and brought him with you so that he was slumped against your chest, your feet hooked over his calves. 

His hands were on either one of your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh there while his arms were loose at his sides. You took the opportunity to slip your hands under his arms, hands reaching up to run over his chest, tweaking one of his nipples on your way and watching the way his cock twitched where it was resting against his lower belly. 

Steve looked like a dream, head thrown back on your shoulder, thigh thighs spread open with his pretty cock on display for you. As your hands made their way to his tummy you scratched softly, fingers sliding through the trail that started under his belly button and went down. He must have felt sensitive there because he turned his head to the side, mouth pressed against your neck as he cursed. 

“S’good, so good. Fuck, I swear anything you do feels fuckin’ perfect.” You pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder at his words, feeling the high of them as he spoke. 

Holding your hand out in front of him, palm up toward his face he hummed against you, not sure what you were wanting him to do, but willing to do just about anything if it meant your hand would be on his cock. 

“Spit.” 

All that was heard in the room was his quick intake of air, eyes fluttering as he leaned toward your hand. He looked back at you once, to double check that this was real or for confirmation that you really wanted him to spit in your hand, you’re not sure. But you nodded, throat bobbing as he turned back and spit, watching in awe. 

“Good boy.” 

Any strength he had left was gone at your words, head falling back to its place on your shoulder as you moved your hand down, taking hold of his cock and hearing him hiss at the contact. 

You think this might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

His cock was hot and smooth under your touch, a mix of his spit and precum making it easy to glide your hand over his shaft, letting your thumb catch on the tip and relishing in the way he gasped in your ear. 

“Such a pretty cock for a pretty boy, hmm?” The feeling of his fingers digging into your thighs only spurred you on, hand tight around him as you stroked him quickly, loving the way his tummy would clench and he’d gasp at how slick he was, how good it felt. 

You’d never seen him so needy, so pathetic as he was right now, little whines and pleas against the shell of your ear as you gripped him. He was heavy in your hand and you wondered how he’d feel on your tongue, how he’d taste when he thrusted into your mouth. You’d add that to the list of things you needed to do immediately. 

“M’sorry, sorry fuck—you’re gonna make me cum, m’gonna cum—oh shit.” He was throbbing hard against your palm, breathing even harder against your neck and you cooed at him when his hips started thrusting up in time with your strokes. 

“Without asking? I don’t think so, Stevie. You haven’t even said please!” Your hand slowed and he moved so his hand was wrapped over yours, trying to get you to go faster but you swatted him away, scolding him with a pinch to his hip. 

Taking one look at his face that was still buried in your throat, you could tell he was out of it, so fucked out you weren’t sure he could even form words, let alone beg. But that didn’t stop you from egging him on, slowing down until he was so worked up he was on the verge of tears. 

“Oh fuck—please…baby, honey, please let me cum? I’ve been so good I just..shit I need it. You feel so good, perfect girl. O-oh my god, please. Please please please.” 

He was mumbling, a mix of curses and pleas as he left sloppy, open mouthed kisses against your throat. You think you’d give him anything he wanted right now with how pretty he sounded, all pathetic and fucked out for you. 

“Go ahead, pretty boy. Cum on my hand, yeah? Make a mess of us.” Your hand sped up on his cock, feeling yourself leak into his bed as he twitched against your fingers. You kept going, kept talking as his hips got sloppy and cock was red and begging for release. 

“Don’t know how you’ll ever fit inside me, Stevie. Gonna have to prep me for days I think.” 

“Next time you’ll have to use my mouth, yeah? I hate letting your cum go to waste.” 

“Y’look so pretty like this. My sweet boy thrusting up into my hand, gonna think about this for days.”

He thrusted up one final time, hips stilling and body going tight as his orgasm took over. His cum coated your fist that was still wrapped around him, reaching his belly and even spilling down onto his thighs. He couldn’t even see the way you pouted at how much had been wasted, cursing yourself for not letting him use your mouth. 

Slumped completely against your chest he mumbled something about his legs feeling like jelly and you giggled, cheek resting against his forehead. 

“Soooo, good then?” 

It took all the energy he could muster to squeeze your thigh, head moving to the side a fraction so he could look at you, smiling so big his cheeks had to hurt. “Are you fuckin’ kidding? I think I just saw god for a second.” 

Rolling your eyes and shoving at his shoulders, butterflies danced in your stomach at how pretty he looked. His skin was flushed and glowing, hair a mess where you’d both pulled at it, lips swollen and red from biting and kissing and holding them between his teeth. He looked phenomenal. 

As much as you’d love to stay here wrapped up in him for the rest of your life, your thighs had gone numb from being stretched around his hips and your back ached from sitting back against his headboard for so long. 

Out of the corner of your eye you could see him nodding off on your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut and little puffs of air hitting your skin. You tapped his cheeks with your clean hand, “C’mon, Stevie. Gotta clean us up and then we can go straight to bed.” 

He groaned in protest but leaned up enough so that you could slip from behind him, legs tingling when you stood on them, hobbling to the bathroom on shaky legs and flipping Steve off when you heard him chuckle from behind you. 

“Oh fuck off, Harrington.” 

          ******************************************

When Steve wakes up the next morning it’s slow and sweet, eyes blinking open and a small smile on his lips when he feels you pressed into his side. 

He looks down and tries not to laugh at your mouth hanging open, a little bit of drool on his chest from where your cheek is squished against his skin. Your hair is sticking up in every direction and he can feel your breath on him. It makes his heart grow in his chest, an overwhelming sense of joy and contentment washing over him as he stares down at you. He could get used to this, you attached to his hip and waking up to you in his bed. 

Thinking back to when you barely gave him the time of day, he smiles at your relationship now. How you’re just as needy as him, tugging on his belt loop to pull him to you if he’s not close enough for your liking, pulling his hand to your thigh in his car if he doesn’t do it first. He’s seen you use your foot to pull his chair closer to yours at work countless times, a little smile on his mouth every time. 

There’s a part of him that doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He feels that way all the time but especially when you laugh louder than you mean to, hand coming up to cover your mouth with a bashful smile. He feels it when you're humming along to a song you’d heard on the radio, head moving side to side and hips swaying to the beat in your head. He feels it when you randomly bring his hand up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm and to his fingertips. 

He feels it all the time, really. 

And he loves when you're mean to him, when you tease him about staring at you too long or for getting all bashful when you do something normal like tuck your hair behind your ear or scrunch your nose. He loves that you turn him into mush. 

“Stop staring, you creep.” He’d been so lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice your eyes opening or how’d you had scooted closer to him, one leg coming up to tangle with his, wrapped together tightly. 

“That’s rich coming from you considering I’m gonna have to clean your drool off me.” You gasped, sitting up straight and smacking at this chest, appalled at the notion that you would ever—could ever—drool on him in your sleep. 

“Keep it up, Steve. Remember what happened the last time you pissed me off?”

As if he’d ever forget. Unfortunately for you, the idea of repeating last night, or anything like it, was hardly going to deter him from pressing your buttons in the way that only he knew how to do. Reaching out he tugged you back down to him, tucking you back into his side and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” 

[gaysindistress]

Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Simon Riley.

Simon Riley masterlist

1. First off he hates the word ‘boyfriend’.

Maybe it’s because he’s in his mid thirties or something but he can’t stand being called your boyfriend. He’s more than that but also not at the same time. You live together, have access to each other’s bank accounts (which is only because he hates it when you try to fight him about him giving you money), and you’re each others emergency contact. He thinks of himself as your husband. The man wears a silicone ring when he’s home and a necklace with the ring that’s totally not a wedding band when he’s working. Price has seen the chain once or twice and smirks, shooting him a knowing look but never says a word.

Simon cannot stand it when people get nosy and want to know what your relationship status is. You’re together and that’s all that matters. No one needs to know that you’re the beneficiary of his will and life insurance policy or that he’s put you on all of his accounts. No one needs to know that he buys you anything you want but has only ever bought you two rings; a thin gold band with a flower engraved on it and its twin a matching emerald ring. No one needs to know that when he gifted them to you, there were tears and promises of safety, love, and happiness whispered against feverish skin. No one needs to know that he has your name woven into his chest tattoo.

No one needs to know any of that because your relationship is between him and you only.

2. You are not some submissive little house wife. You are a strong independent woman and he prefers it that way.

I know this one goes against what most people say but hear me out on this. Simon has been independent since birth practically. He’s only had himself to count on for years. Even in the military, he’s only been able to rely himself. Sure the others watch out for him but if it came down to it, he’s the only one who’s going to get himself out alive.

The thought of someone else relying on him in that way is terrifying. He can’t even fathom what it would be like to look at another person and fully trust them in that way. Half the time he feels like he can’t even be trusted to take care of himself let alone another human. In theory a sweet docile housewife is great with the meals and clean house but not for him. He needs to know that you can hold your own. He needs to know that you can be independent and carry on without him if something happened while he was working. He needs to know that you will be okay if he doesn’t come back.

You have to be okay without him no matter how much it pains him to think about it.

Like I said before, he’s made you the beneficiary of everything so he knows you’ll be set financially but that’s not enough. He’s made Price promise to keep an eye out for you. He’s made you promise to let Price do that and you agreed because it’s Simon who’s asking but you’d tell anyone else to fuck off.

In addition to all of that, he’s installed the best security system the government has to offer in your house. You have a very expensive and large safe in your shared closet that he’s instructed you to only open if you feel unsafe. While you might not like it, you agree to go shooting with him so he can sleep at night knowing that you could protect yourself if he’s not home. He’s gone as far as to make sure you have all of the licenses and certificates that are needed to legally own firearms in the UK.

He’s not leaving any opportunity for you to be vulnerable or have your ‘safety checks’, as he calls them, taken away.

3. Simon Riley is a godless man…until he meets you.

Now this is entirely my own headcannon with no evidence to support it so bear with me.

Simon had a shitty childhood where his mom would pray to a god who never listened and his dad would shout verses at him when he was drunk. God was a mythical figure that he was told stories off with nothing to show for it. He did believe at one point but then his dad never got better, his mom wore bruises of every shade, and his brother found comfort in drugs.

He found himself praying when he was being tortured by the Mexican cartel. Between the flashbacks of his abusive past, he prayed to a god who had failed him so many times before to help him. He prayed again as he dug himself out of that Texas grave with the major’s jaw bone. He wailed his prayers when he found his family executed after Sparks tried to kill him.

After that he deemed himself a Godless man. Years of praying had passed with nothing. This god had decided that Simon was not worthy of a miracle so why would he continue to worship him?

That was until he met you. He finds himself praying before every mission, every time he has to leave you, every time he’s on his way home, and just about any other time he thinks of you. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s praying for other than for you to be there when he gets back.

He whispers his prayers to an absent god against your skin as he worships your body, soul, and heart. He promises to be devoted to you until his last breath and vows to find you again in whatever afterlife awaits you. He pledges to find solace in you and only you when his haunting nightmares return. He makes an oath to your heart that it will never weather another storm alone again for his will take whatever beating that comes your way. He shows you that he will love you in the same manner as a Hozier song; putting you above all else because you have become his religion, his faith, his beliefs, his life.

You have become all that he is and he thanks the god he once believed in for you. He prays again but to you, his heart, his love, and his beacon through the enteral storm of life.

[waitimcomingtoo]

I’ll Cry If I Want To

Pairing: enemies to lovers!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: you get stood up on your birthday and Peter attempts to cheer you up despite your feud

Masterlist

Peter walked into the kitchen in the tower and was immediately greeted by a confetti popper exploding in his face followed by a tender kiss on the forehead from Tony.

“Oh, my. Good morning to me.” Peter smiled at the greeting.

“Damn it, Parker.” Tony groaned. “I thought you were my little girl.”

“Don’t feel bad, daddy. A lot of people confuse Peter for a little girl.” You said as you walked into the kitchen behind Peter. The two of you made eye contact and you gave him an innocent smile while he rolled his eyes at you.

“Ha ha.“ He said sarcastically and then hissed at you like a cat. You gave him a look as you walked over to your dad.

“Happy birthday, baby girl.” Tony said and pulled you into a long hug.

“Thank you, daddy.” You smiled and hugged him back.

“Thank you, daddy.” Peter said in a high pitched voice to mock you. You and Tony looked at him and he quickly cleared his throat.

“Sorry. What I meant to say was, happy birthday. I didn’t know that was today. I mean, I’d been wondering why you looked so old but I assumed it was from your lack of sunscreen use.”

“Nice try. I wear sunscreen everyday.” You replied.

“Really?” He gasped. “Might want to up that SPF a few. You look like a crumbled piece of paper and not in a fun Taylor Swift way.”

“Don’t talk to me about skincare, Rudolf.” You snapped and tapped your nose twice to point out the zit on the tip of Peter nose. He covered it with his hand and narrowed his eyes at you.

“Children, please. No fighting. It stops my moisturizer from sinking in.” Tony sighed and rubbed circles into his skin.

“Sorry, daddy. I just wanted to make sure Peter knew about the giant pimple on his nose in case he was going to see anyone today.” You said as you smiled sweetly at Peter. He discreetly flipped you off by scratching his cheek with his middle finger.

“Any plans for the night, jelly bean?” Tony asked you.

“Nothing crazy. My friends are coming over later for a sleepover.”

“Oh God. Is this gonna be one of those crazy parties where you all get drunk and things get out of hand and you accidentally kill someone and have to dispose of the body together while hijixs ensues?” Peter. whined.

“No, because this isn’t one of the pornos you watch.” You scoffed.

“Pfft. That is not what I watch.” He insisted. “Where would I even find something like that? What would I even type? I’m open to suggestions.”

“Shut up.” You laughed. “You’re such a weirdo. And don’t be hanging around when my friends are here. I already told them you’re a pervert and on the FBI watch list so you don’t have a chance with any of them.”

“I don’t want to date your freakbob friends anyway.” He scoffed. “And to keep it down tonight, will you? I already wake up the birds chirping every morning. I don’t want to hear you birds all night too.”

“I actually came up with a solution for that. What if you killed yourself?” You asked through a smile.

“That’s a great idea. I might give that a whirl today if I’m not busy.” He replied and matched your smile.

“You? Busy?” You laughed. “Please. Busy doing what?”

“Peter and I are gonna be in the lab doing boring stuff with the suits. Adjustments, additions, and what have you.” Tony answered you.

“Oh. Okay. Do you need any help?” You asked.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that on your birthday, baby girl. Peters got it.” Tony replied, making your smile falter a little.

“Yeah. I’ve got it.” Peter boasted and gave you a smug look. You glared at him for a moment before looking back at your dad.

“I’ll catch you later for some cake, okay honey bun?” Tony told you before kissing your forehead.

“Okay. Bye. Have fun.” You smiled sadly as he left the room.

“You look greasy, by the way.” Peter said once you were alone.

“Like I care what you think. Even your hairline won’t stay with you.” You scoffed and nodded towards his forehead.

“It’s not actually receding, is it?” He asked and touched his hair.

“Maybe your forehead is just getting bigger.” You shrugged and popped a grape in your mouth from the bowl on the table.

“Bite me.” He replied and stopped touching his hair.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You chuckled. “Isn’t that how you got your powers, spider boy?”

“Yup. What do you think would happen if you bite me? Would I be able to a do anything a total bitch can?” He wondered, making you pelt a grape at him. He caught it with ease and popped it into his mouth.

“Watch your mouth before I bring out the peppermint essential oils again.” You warned him.

“You wouldn’t.” He said quietly.

“Try me.” You shrugged. You stared at each other across the kitchen for a moment before Peter gave up.

“You win. Here’s your card. Happy birthday, gaylord.” He said as he handed you a homemade birthday card from his jeans pocket before quickly running out of the room. You rolled your eyes at him but smiled once he was gone and read the card. As annoying as you normally found him, you appreciated that he remembered your birthday. Inside the card was a crude drawing of the two of you fighting next to a drawing of a gift card to Planet Fitness.

Peter strolled into your bedroom around 10 pm when he had grown curious as to why your friends weren’t there yet. It was getting kind of late and you had listed many activities that you had planned to do while Peter begrudgingly listened to you talk earlier in the day. You were still in your room by yourself so he went in and knocked on your door to see what was happening.

“Hey dingus. When are your dumb friends getting here? I need to know when I should jam my ears with scissors.” Peter said as he leaned against your doorway. You were sitting on your bed with your knees draw to your chest and your chin resting on top of them as you stared out the window.

“Do that anyway.” You mumbled and didn’t move from your position.

“I’m going to. I can’t listen to you all yap about when Reputation TV is coming all night. And your friend Stacy’s theories are always way off.” He continued. You still didn’t turn to look at him and his smirk dropped when he heard a sniffle. He frowned and took a step into your room.

“Hello? I knew you were dumb but did you forget how to turn your neck or something?” He said to try to make you laugh. You stayed still and he craned his neck to try to see your face.

“Seriously though, when are they coming?”

“They’re not coming.” You said finally in a horse voice.

“Why? What happened? Did they finally realize you’re an annoying brat whose only redeeming quality is access to daddy’s credit card?” Peter teased in another attempt to make you laugh.

“Something like that.” You mumbled. Peter frowned and finally realized that something was actually wrong. He sat down on your bed and reached his hand out.

“Whats going on? Are you okay?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Just go away.” You said sadly and wiped tears from your face. Peter shot a web at a tissue box on your dresser and pulled it over.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.” He said and handed you a tissue. You gave him a skeptical look and he held up one hand in defense while waving the tissue in the other like a white flag. You sighed and took the tissue before wiping your eyes.

“They found out it wasn’t a yacht party or at some fancy restaurant or some elitist club in Tribeca so they all cancelled.“ You said as you nervously ripped the tissue up in your hands.

“They cancelled? Why?”

“Because no one wants to come to my party. They want to come to a Stark Industries party with puppies in the gift bags and acrobats suspended from the ceiling and Avengers walking around like party clowns. Just hanging out with me wasn’t cool enough so they all bailed.” You sniffled and turned back to look out the window. Peter raised his hand to place it on your shoulder but then drew it back. He didn’t know if he was who you’d want to comfort you and he didn’t want to push it.

“I’m sorry.” He said instead.

“Like you care.” You laughed sadly and held your knees tighter to your chest.

“I do care.” He insisted. “And I’m very sorry this happened to you tonight.”

“No you’re not.” You scoffed. “You’re probably thrilled to see me like this. This is probably the greatest moment of your dumb life.”

“It’s not.” He said quietly. You finally whipped around to look at Peter and he saw the pain in your red eyes.

“It’s not? Look at me, Peter. I’m pathetic. I’m alone on my birthday because I wasn’t good enough for anyone to hang out with.” You exclaimed. Peter went quiet as you slowly caught your breath. You teased each other all the time but you’d never actually yelled at him before. You wiped your eyes with the tissue before staring at your hands.

“You were right.” You said quietly. “I am just a spoiled brat who people only like because of my connections. And I’m sure you’re anxiously waiting for me to shut up so you can say “I told you so” and prove to me once again that I’m always wrong.”

You and Peter sat in silence for a minute without looking at each other. Peter felt guilty that you were expecting him to kick you while you were down. You were feeling your own guilt for snapping at him when he was trying to be nice.

“I’m not gonna say that.” He said after a beat.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just go away.” You said miserably and turned back to the window. Peter opened his mouth to say something but shut it when he couldn’t find the words. He patted your shoulder twice before getting up and leaving your room. You turned to look at the door once he was gone and felt yourself missing his presence. You turned back to the window and stared out at the night sky through your teary eyes and let time pass.

After a while, you started to smell something. You sniffed the air until you recognized it as the scent of a something burning. Out of sheer curiosity, you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and padded into the kitchen. You found Peter in the kitchen with a lace trimmed pink apron tied around his waist and flour smeared on his cheek. You smiled in surprise and leaned against the wall to watch him for a minute. He was humming to himself a song you didn’t recognize while scrapping a burnt black lump of something into the trash can. When he finally turned around, he jumped when he saw you.

“Jesus. You scared me. But I guess I should’ve known the smell of something baking would have your big back running to the kitchen like I hit the bat signal.”

“Shut up.” You chuckled. “What are you doing in here?”

“Well, your parents went to a movie since they thought your friends would be here. That means no ones home.” Peter began.

“And?” You asked.

“And so I thought we could fulfill a lifelong fantasy of mine and making sweet love to you on the kitchen counter.” He smiled suavely and raised his eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?” Your jaw dropped as he drummed his fingertips on the counter.

“I’m joking. I’m clearly baking a bake. Or, I tried. I guess 500 degrees was too hot.” He said and looked at the burnt cake in the trash.

“Yeah, that’s a few hundred above what it should be. But why are you baking? We have a chef for that.”

“Because it’s your birthday you miserable bitch. And everyone deserves a cake baked with love. Now do you prefer chocolate or vanilla frosting on your burnt cake?” He asked and held up two cans of frosting. You looked between the two before your eyes settled on him. You hugged your blanket tighter around yourself and shook your head.

“I don’t want your pity.” You said quietly.

“You don’t have it so shut up and grab a spatula before I rescind your choice in the matter and funfetti the fuck out of this cake.” He replied and held out a spatula. You stared at it and felt compelled to take it and join him, but you were still throwing yourself a pity party.

“No.”

“No? Look, I’m trying to cheer your dumb ass up so can you please work with me here?” Peter sighed and looked at you. You stared at him for a while before cracking the slightest smile. He noticed the smile and knew he had succeeded in his plan to cheer you up.

“Fine. But I’m not eating that. That’s what Santa puts in the bad kids stockings. We’ll make a new one. But I’m not touching raw eggs.” You told him and grabbed your dad’s matching pink apron from the drawer.

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Princess.” Peter mumbled under his breath. You glared at him through your lashes as you threw some flour and sugar into a bowl. Peter went to put the butter in but you pushed his hand away.

“It can’t be cold butter or it won’t mix properly. It has to be room temperature.” You explained as you filled a measuring cup with water.

“Oh. Let’s pop it in the microwave then.”

“We can’t do that either. Then the hot butter will scramble the eggs. Do you want little egg bits in your cake?” You asked him as you microwaved the cup of water for a minute.

“Maybe just a little.” Peter replied as he watched you put the butter into a small bowl and then place the bowl on top of the microwaved water.

“There. This will soften the butter without making it hot enough to scramble the eggs.” You explained. He looked between your little invention and you for a minute before smiling.

“Wow. That was really smart.” He said genuinely. “Women really do belong in the kitchen.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes as you set the temperature to the correct heat on the oven. Peter couldn’t help but watch you over his shoulder as you combined the rest of the dry ingredients and expertly cracked an egg in one hand. He rarely got to see you like this, no makeup and in lounge clothes. And he definitely never saw you upset before. He was used to the perfectly groomed and standoffish version of yourself so this change of pace brought him unexpected joy.

“Move over. That’s not how you mix batter. You need to fold it.” You told him and reminded him of the you he knew. You bumped him with your hip and put your hands over his to help him fold the batter.

“Like laundry?” He asked as his cheeks heated up.

“Like you know what laundry is, Pigpen. And no. A different folding. Like this.” You said and helped him mix the batter until it was the desired consistency.

“Oh wow. That worked really well. I usually just go sicko mode until it turns into goop.” He confessed.

“And how does that work out for you?” You asked him.

“Look in the trash and you’ll find out.” Peter replied and eyed the burnt cake in the garbage can. You playfully rolled your eyes at him and kept helping him fold the batter. Everytime he tried to stir the batter, you gently corrected his hands to fold it instead.

“Why don’t you just do it?” He asked when he started getting frustrated with himself.

“Because you won’t learn if I do it.” You replied in a softer tone. Peter went quiet since you were being unexpectedly nice to him. You let the batter sit for minute once you were satisfied and then poured in into a cake pan.

“There. Thats gonna take about 30 minutes to bake and then it needs to cool before we frost it.” You told him as you shut the oven door.

“Oh, so we have 30 minutes? Then circling back to that making love on the counter idea-“

“Shut it.” You warned him. Peter pretended to zipper his lips and throw away the key. You cracked a smile before starting to clean up the kitchen. Peter wordlessly helped you tidy up and you exchanged a soft smile with each other in the silence of the kitchen.

“What was your worst birthday?” You asked after a long beat of silence.

“Are you talking to me?” Peter asked after looking around.

“Peter, we’re the only ones in the room.”

“Sorry. It’s not like you’ve ever asked me a personal question before. It’s usually “are you stupid?” or “can you go away?” or “do you need a tampon cry baby?” He recalled, making you feel bad for always being so mean to him.

“Oh. Sorry about that.” You said quietly. “I sound a lot meaner than I thought I was.”

“I’m mean too.” Peter shrugged.

“You tease me.” You shook your head. “I’m just cruel.”

“I think we are an equal amount of mean to each other. Don’t let it keep you up at night. I’m sure your chronic yeast infections do that enough.” Peter tried to lighten the mood, but you didn’t crack a smile. You seemed faraway in thought and he was curious as to why.

“Do you think I’m hard to be around?” You asked after a minute. Peter was about to crack another joke until he saw the look on your face. He could tell you needed a friend right now and was filled with determination to be one.

“No. I think those girls you called your “friends” are hard to be around.” He said seriously. “I’ve seen you with them. They’re the mean ones. Them bailing tonight has nothing to do with you. They’re a bunch of shallow jerks who only care about the material things in life. They don’t care about having deep connections with people. They only care about deep pockets on people. I know this isn’t the first time they’ve ditched you. And I know you feel alone even when they are here because you’re never fully included. You think no one notices because you tell stories about your charming adventures together but I see it in your eyes. They make you feel like an afterthought. You act tough and pretend it doesn’t bother you but I know that it does. You shouldn’t hang out with them anymore.”

“Then who am I going to hang out with?” You shrugged sadly. “Without them, I don’t have any friends.”

“Sitting alone is better than sitting at a table where you’re the topic of conversation when you get up.” Peter said simply. You stared at him for a moment before your eyes fell to the floor.

“I just don’t want to be alone.” You said quietly. Peter nodded his head in understanding and let a silence fall between the two of for a while. He was going to say that you wouldn’t be alone because you’d have him, but he didn’t know if you wanted to hear that.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked.

“No.” You said immediately. You made eye contact and you let out a sigh.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

“Why don’t you like me?” He asked without looking into our eyes. You saw that coming and stared at him to try and get a sense of what was going on in his head. He slowly looked back up at you and gave you a weak smile.

“Do you remember that time the power went out in the city due to that Max guy or whatever and we all lit candles and hung out in the tower?”

“Uh oh.” Peter gulped. “You answered my question with another question. That can’t be good.”

“Shut up. Do you remember or not?” You asked and gently kicked his foot with your foot.

“I remember that.” He told you and held your gaze.

“You were new around here. You had just gotten your powers that year so I didn’t really know you yet. I had gone to look for more candles and found you crying on the floor of the linen closet.

“I remember that.” He nodded. “It was all so overwhelming to be here with the whole team. I had never felt so small.”

“I know. I told you I felt like that too sometimes. And then we stayed up for hours talking about every stupid thing we ever worried about and gave each other advice. I think at one point I gave you advice on how much conditioner to use.” You said as you replayed the night in your memory. You had a look on your face that Peter had never seen on you before. It was natural and relaxed and playful, all things he knew to be the opposite of you. It was so rare that the two of you were getting along and he didn’t want to do anything to ruin in.

“A dime sized amount and not on the roots. I still use that advice.” He chuckled. “You were so nice to me that night. You came in and pretended I wasn’t crying so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed. You just sat down with me and started talking ad if we’d always been friends. You quieted all my fears that night. I was initially so embarrassed about it but then I felt a lot better knowing someone had my back no matter how bad I messed up.”

“I always had your back.” You insisted. “Even when I was mean to you. If you were in trouble with my dad, I was always here talking him down and trying to get him to see your side. He sees you through the lense of his child that he doesn’t want hurt but I’ve always seen you as a hero who wants to help. I even got him to give you the suit back when you were 15. And it was my idea to put the warmers in because you told me you’re always cold.”

“Really? You were rooting for me this whole time?” He cracked a smile in surprise.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “Always.”

“Then how come you act like…” Peter trailed off in fear of insulting you.

“Like what?” You asked, sounding like you already knew what was coming.

“Like you hate me.” He admitted. You felt your face burn in embarrassment and shook your head.

“I don’t hate you.” You said sheepishly.

“You don’t?” He asked in genuine surprise. You looked at him and he could see the guilt in your eyes even in the dim light of the kitchen.

“No. I don’t. I never did.”

“Then how come we don’t get along anymore?” He asked. He had only gone along with all the teasing since you began it, but he had always wondered why it started.

“One of the things we had talked about that night was how my one regret about being homeschooled was never getting to experience a prom. I told you had dreamed of it since I was a little girl and it broke my heart to know I’d never have one. So then you said…” You trailed off, thinking he’d remember what he told you. His face showed no sign of remembering it but he racked his brain anyway.

“I said what?” He asked, breaking your heart just a little more.

“You promised to take me. To yours.” You told him. You and Peter stood in silence for a moment before he burst out laughing. Your sadness immediately hardened into anger at the sound of him laughing at you.

“Wait, you’ve been pissy towards me for the last few years because I broke a promise I made at 15 years old and didn’t take you to a stupid school dance?” Peter asked through a laugh. You glared at him for his reaction and he immediately stopped when he noticed you weren’t laughing too.

“Oh. We’re not laughing?” He asked.

“Why is that funny to you?” You snapped. Peter saw the moment slipping away from him and started to panic.

“Well I was- I was a kid.” He said simply. “I had a huge crush on this girl Liz and we were finally becoming friends so I asked her and she said yes. That was years after I promised you that. I’m sorry but I didn’t remember.”

Peter thought you were going to yell at him and hurl a parade of insults his way, but you just nodded your head and looked down at the ground.

“You’re right. We were just kids. Forget I said anything.” You mumbled and started walking towards the door to leave. Peter knew he had messed up big time and possibly just killed any and all chances of the two of you becoming friends.

“Wait.” He said desperately just as the kitchen timer went off. You stopped walking and watched him haphazardly take the cake out of the oven and throw it in the stove top as he blew on it.

“You should stay. We have to frost it.” He said with a weak smile and an even weaker attempt for you for stay.

“You can’t frost it while it’s hot. It’ll slip right off.” You said without looking at him.

“Oh. I didn’t know that. Well then do you want to talk some more or-“

“I have to go.” You cut him off and swiftly left the kitchen.

You went back to your room to resume the pouting you had started earlier. You felt guilty about walking out on Peter but it had hurt you to know that a promise that had meant a lot to you didn’t even stay in his memory. You stared out the window and sulked as you thought yourself into a deep rut. It didn’t take long for Peter to start making noise in the kitchen, interrupting your thought spiral. You heard things falling out of cabinets followed by Peter swearing. He bumbled around for a while and slowly drove you crazy with all the noise he was making until you couldn’t take it anymore. Just when you were about to text him and tell him the knock it off, you heard the dulcet sounds of “The Dancing Queen” coming from downstairs. You groaned in frustration and got out of bed to go downstairs and see what was happening.

When you got to the living room, Peter was standing there in one of your dad’s suits that hugged him a little too tightly around his muscles. The room looked like it had been decorated by a child with poorly hung streamers, ripped up construction paper to act as confetti, and bunches of webs that Peter had tried to shape into stars and moons. He had dimmed the lights and put a single bowl of chips on the counter, which he proudly stood beside.

“What the hell is this?” You asked him.

“Will you go to prom with me?” He asked with a huge smile.

“No.” You said immediately. “Please kill yourself.”

“I will.” He promised. “After one dance.”

“I’m not dancing with you. I’m not doing any of this.” You told him and turned to leave. You heard a “pst” right before feeling a web hit your back. Before you knew it, Peter tugged on the web and sent you stumbling back into Peter’s arms. He caught you with ease and winked when you landed in his arms. You rolled your eyes at him but felt a smile tugged at your lips.

“Please? Just one dance? Then I’ll let you go and hate me for the rest of your life.” He pleaded as he stared into your eyes. He looked so desperate that you found yourself nodding before you knew what you were agreeing to. He smiled in excitement and twirled you around before slowly swaying to the beat. You begrudgingly sighed and wrapped your arms around his neck while his stayed in a respectable place on your hips. You could feel his eyes on you but you kept yours on the ceiling.

“You can look at me, you know.” He teased, making you begrudgingly look him in the eyes.

“Oh. I almost forgot.” He smiled and pulled something out of his pocket. You looked down and saw a few poorly drawn flowers webbed to a rubber band.

“Your corsage, my lady.” He said as he slipped it onto your wrist.

“This is so stupid.” You laughed but secretly loved the thought he put into everything.

“It’s about to get even more stupid. Wait here.” He asked and quickly ran into the kitchen. He returned with one of Morgan’s plastic tiaras with a big fake gem in the center.

“Every prom needs its queen.” He said as he placed the crown on your head. You made eye contact as he stepped forward to adjust it and you felt your breath catch in your throat from how close he was.

“You didn’t have to do this.” You said quietly.

“Yes I did. I owed you a prom experience. I’m sorry I didn’t take you the first time. And I’m sorry for laughing at you. You just caught me off guard. I have spent many nights thinking of all the things I could have done to make you hate me. I genuinely forgot about that promise. I had no idea this entire time that you hated me because of prom.” He said as the two of you started swaying to the music again. You felt a feeling rise up in your chest, a feeling you hadn’t felt for Peter in many years.

“It wasn’t just the prom.” You admitted before you could think about it.

“It wasn’t? What else did I do? Did I hotbox the elevator with you in it or something?” He asked. “I did that to Wanda once and now she’ll show up in my dreams sometimes and make me pee the bed.”

“That’s disgusting.” You said flatly. “But no. It wasn’t that.”

“Then what?” He wondered.

“It’s stupid. You’ll just laugh again.”

“No I won’t.” He assured you. “Probably. I’ll definitely try really hard not to.

“Come on. Please tell me.” He pleaded and gave your hip a gentle squeeze. “You have to tell me now or I’ll become so annoying so quickly. I’ll be worse than those people who try to describe SNL skits to you and keep explaining even when it’s clearly only funny if you’re watching it.”

“I can’t tell you. It’s dumb anyway. Forget I said anything.” You said and hoped he’d drop it.

“It can’t be that dumb if it stood between us all these years. What, did you have a crush on me or something?” He laughed through his question. You went quiet and Peters eyes went wide.

“Oh shit. Did you have a crush on me?” He asked in a soft voice. You looked down at the ground to avoid having to look him in the eyes now that you were caught.

“I don’t know.” You sighed. “You were my age and had these cool powers and muscles and unexpected sense of humor. I was homeschooled and had swiped to the end of Tinder. You were my only option.”

“Oh. I see. So you only liked me because I was the only choice?” He said through a laugh but it hurt him. You could sense in his voice that you had just hurt his feelings and for once, that wasn’t what you wanted.

“I mean, not the only choice.” You added. “Cap used to hang around a lot more and he’s not the worst looking. But he’s like 500 so I never really had a chance.”

“Why me, then?” He wondered. You finally looked in to his eyes and shrugged a little.

“Because you were kind.” You admitted. “You didn’t need to take on as much as what you did at such a young age but you refused to do the easy stuff. You used to drive my dad crazy with how for you begged for assignments. You were so determined to get out there and save people, it was almost obnoxious. You were never content getting back stolen bikes. You always wanted to protect people from the big things. Even when you were just a kid. I liked that about you. I still do.”

“Still?” He gulped. “Even now?”

Before you could respond, the slow music that was playing ended and “Munch” started to blast from Peter phone. He scrambled to change the song but the moment had already been ruined.

“Sorry about that. I don’t know who put that on my playlist.” He quickly lied.

“It was you.”

“It was me, yeah.” He admitted and hung his head in shame. You stopped dancing and slowly withdrew your arms from him, making his heart sink.

“This was really sweet. Thank you, Peter.” You said genuinely. “I should probably get to bed now. I just want this day to end.”

“But we haven’t frosted the cake yet. It’s still your birthday. You can’t go to bed without any cake.” He said in a desperate attempt to get you to stay.

“I don’t know. It’s late.”

“Come on. It’ll be fast. That’s one of my powers. Spider can frost cake really fast and so can I.” He said and rushed over to the cake. He held it up and gave you a lopsided smile, convincing you to stay.

“Fine. Let’s make it fast.” You agreed and walked over to him. He smiled at you joining him and got out the frosting. He handed you a spatula and you started to frost the cake.

“You don’t have to keep wearing that if you don’t want.” Peter chuckled and went to take your crown off. You quickly swatted his hand and adjusted your crown.

“Back off. It’s mine.” You said and stepped away from him. He chuckled again and you laughed too.

“I really do appreciate everything you did for me tonight. I hope I can make it up to you one day.” You told him.

“You can make it up to me right now if we clear off this counter top and-“

“No.” You cut him off.

“Worth a try.” He mumbled.

“Really, though. You cheered me up tonight and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“In a way, I’m glad your stupid friends cancelled on you. It gave us an opportunity to spend time together. And this was the least I could do for not taking you to my real prom. Which was total buns, by the way. I missed most of it because I was putting my dates dad in jail.”

“Well I’m glad that didn’t happen tonight.” You laughed softly.

“Me either. I wish I took you to the first one. We could have been friends this whole time if I had just remembered my promise.” He sighed.

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago. I’m done moping about it. I’m ready to eat this cake and be friends from now on.”

“I’m ready for that too.” He smiled at you. “Especially the part about us being friends. But also for this cake because it’s kinda giving me a boner from how good it smells.”

“It does smell really good. I can’t even blame your boner. But if that thing even looks at me you’re getting impromptu gender reassignment surgery with this spatula.”

“Ouch.” He chuckled and looked over at you. He didn’t stop looking at you until you felt his eyes on you.

“What?” You laughed shyly.

“I can’t believe you ever liked me. And that this whole time, I had no idea. I am so not cool enough for a girl like you to like.”

“Yeah, well. It wasn’t like I dropped any hints.”

“Maybe not. It just doesn’t feel real. I wouldn’t believe it even if you weren’t always mean to me. You reciprocating my feelings was not something I ever thought would happen.”

“Reciprocating? You liked me too?” You asked as your mouth went dry.

“Are you kidding? You’re my mentors insanely hot and totally off limits daughter. Of course I liked you. Not to mention you’re funny, smart, good with a screwdriver and the apparently my biggest supporter. Though you did it in secret. Make no mistake, birthday girl. I had the biggest crush on you for years. Even when you were being mean to me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You said quietly. You had your back to him as you washed your hands but you could feel his eyes on you. You peaked over your shoulder and sure enough, Peter’s eyes were locked on you. You gulped and turned back around when you heard him walking over to you.

“You know, as mean as your insults were, they were always clever. And you always looked good saying them. How could I not fall for you?” He said as he came up behind you. He was close enough that you could smell his cologne, along with a scent that was just distinctly Peter, making your heart pound in your ears. You turned around and leaned against the counter as you looked into his eyes.

“Well how do you feel now?” You asked with unwavering eye contact.

“I feel like those feelings never left.” He admitted. You had never heard such confidence in his voice and it was just the thing to tip the scales back in his favor.

“Hm. Interesting.” You shrugged and turned back around. It was almost like you could hear the disappointment in the air once you had your back to him again. You decided not to torture him forever and give in to what you both wanted.

“Peter?” You asked and looked over your shoulder at him.

“Yeah?”

“Clear the countertop.”

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @itsemohours

@tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[pomefioredove]

now I'm actually invested in this idea. maybe I'll write a full length fic someday idk... for now I have short hcs

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending

summary: crowley decides to "give away" yuu to the highest "donation" for financial reasons type of post: headcanons characters: all nrc students additional info: can be read as platonic or romantic, except malleus is pretty romantic, second person pov, yuu is gender neutral, maybe a little ooc I wrote this as soon as I got up

crowley has had his fair share of "what the fuck" moments from you but this was really taking the cake

he acts so... casual about it?

swaggers into ramshackle one morning and says times are tough and your personal expenses are straining the budget so he's decided to "put you in someone else's care"

"The screening process will be vigorous to make sure you end up in good hands!" like you're a cat or something "Your expenses will be covered and you'll have somewhere to go during break!"

okay great. pretty obvious you have no say in this, so you don't even argue. what's the worst that could happen?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ace, Deuce, Jack, and Epel find you the next day to say they're pooling their money to buy you

"To what?"

Epel shrugs. "Oh, well Crowley said we need to offer a donation to prove we're capable of supporting you..."

(you think that if not for the laws of this land you would have slaughtered that old fart)

Jack goes on a really long tirade about how shady and underhanded this is, making sure to reaffirm that he believes you should be free to make your own choices

"So you'll let me go once you get me?"

"Uhhh..."

Ace thinks once they buy you you'll have no choice but to do all of his homework for him

Deuce says that's not really how it works- and even if he tried, Riddle would kill him

(they've already gone over this twice before finding you)

Epel happily volunteers to take you home with him over breaks, probably the only positive in this mess

even if he thinks the whole thing is kind of funny

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

incapable of keeping his mouth shut, Ace accidentally spills the plan to Riddle, who is understandably aghast

you can't just give away a person under your care like a toy!

of all the irresponsible things...

of course, he'll have to put up his offer, too

purely for your sake! with a nicer room and a brand new copy of the dorm rules, maybe you'll stop getting yourself into trouble

he's got some family money (doctors, naturally) and considers this a worthwhile purchase, for his sanity and yours

of course, Trey and Cater overhear and may or may not be pooling their own cash for a chance, too

going behind Riddle's back on this is a risky venture, but hey, someone's gotta be on your side, here, right?

I mean, between a bunch of sixteen year old boys, the housewarden, and them, who would you choose?

actually don't answer that

...not that it's much of a secret, anyway. Cater's already got their gofundme equivalent link in bio

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona initially plans to have you become a live-in lackey like Ruggie

but then he really starts thinking- and, hey, the possibilities are endless, right?

for one, you'd make a really good pillow

he might have to kick Grim out for your full attention, but you could learn to live with that

and malleus would hate it

...that's reason enough for him

plus, he's got money to burn, so why not?

either way, he sets his bid at a reasonable (maybe too confident) price and sits back to watch the chaos unfold as everyone scrambles for a piece of the pie

news travels fast around school, after all

then Ruggie finds out that you could dethrone him as Leona's #2 and is understandably a little annoyed

that's his cushy post-grad job gig, thank you! he's worked hard for that!

besides, why should Leona get to hoard you? the guy can barely take care of himself!

so, Ruggie ends up outsourcing to a few dozen classmates for the necessary funds at a steep I-owe-you price

he's gonna be eating nothing but dandelions for a while...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now, Azul is annoyed

once the news goes school-wide, it's all anyone can talk about

talk about good marketing...

why didn't he think of such a brilliant scam? he could have negotiated with Crowley to have a café brand deal tie-in!

of course, he's already set his bid, with Jade and Floyd offering to pitch in as necessary

it's a risky investment, sure, but a worthwhile one

Azul tells everyone that with the prefect's "obvious" popularity, having them at the café a few nights a week would drive sales through the roof

though that's really just what he says to shirk suspicion

a likely excuse coming from him, though, really, it would just be nice having you around

and if not for his own affections, Floyd's incessant begging and Jade's subtly manipulative comments about "how nice" it would be having a new face around would be enough for him to cave eventually

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"Kalim, no," is the first thing that Jamil says

"I strongly advise against this. It's another one of Crowley's silly scams and you could end up a target bec- are you even listening?"

hint: he is not

the second Kalim found out that he could get to take in his favorite magicless student like one of his treasures, he was all over it

(AKA infinite sleepovers)

and for what? a little optional donation to prove he's got the funds? he's got cash to spare!

he's already got your new room in Scarabia set up before he even puts his bid in

right next to his of course :)

and despite what Jamil insists, he himself might be working behind the curtain just a little to ensure he's the one who ends up with you

after all, why should Kalim get everything? this might be a valuable learning opportunity for him

You don't always get what you want

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

as much as Epel tries to keep the rest of his dorm from finding out, it's inevitable

he's actually a little surprised that the news didn't get to Vil sooner

with Rook around campus, surely he must have said something...

when Vil does find out, though, he just sighs

oh, of course. what next, will everyone meet each other in the arena and fight to the death over the prefect?

of all the silly, immature things...

oh? what's that? he's bidding anyway? of course he is, silly potato. he can't have some unwashed miscreant making you sleep on polyester bedding

(really, he's the only person on campus worthy of your time)

Rook has also been mysteriously absent from the dorm lately, though his initials on a poem and a strangely large sum of money end up in the donation pile

but really, that could be anyone... Rook would never dare betray Vil again, right?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ortho finds out directly from the other first years and sends Idia the details immediately

with a little note of encouragement, of course: "could be excellent for improving your social skills!"

Idia understandably freaks out

"WTF!!!! nooo way! this is a person, not a chatbot we're talking about here! I can barely keep virtual pets alive!!!!"

(liar)

(...but this is still different)

the conversation ends there, but semi-anonymous bid from someone named "gloomurai" gets cashapp'd directly to crowley

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

everyone in the room immediately turns to Malleus

"For the record, I think it's wrong to be bargaining over a human being," Silver says first. "But if anyone could handle it with grace, it's you."

Lilia laughs. "Oh, you're just saying that because you like the prefect so much!"

"Father, you're the one who likes the prefect so much,"

"Oh, right! carry on then. After all, I'm sure we could share,"

Sebek is the only one relatively against the idea, though Lilia luckily manages to get him to lower his voice after his third speech about how you aren't good enough for his liege

Malleus is rather quiet through the whole evening, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with any of the points made

he disappears for a short while, and when he comes back he seems a little more confident

though, of course, he goes to you first

seeing him at Ramshackle in the middle of the night is a familiar and welcoming sight after all of the chaos of your week

and he's in a great mood!

"Child of man! I've come with news," he says. "I have heard of your predicament and have come up with a solution!"

you immediately sulk. "Oh, no. You know I think this whole thing is terrible, right?"

"Yes, Silver mentioned you might not like the idea of being bought and sold like a trinket. But worry not, I do not plan on paying for you in money,"

you pause, at a loss for words, and then tentatively continue. "You're not...?"

"Of course not. What a primitive idea, I was baffled to hear it myself. My proposal will be more traditional: a modest sum of treasure, and a generous amount of livestock and the finest crop Briar Valley can offer,"

certainly he's not this naive, you think

"You really think Crowley is going to accept that over money? I'm pretty sure Kalim just bid away an entire country's worth,"

he laughs. "You speak as if this is some kind of business deal! I'm quite confident that my dowry will be best,"

huh. that was a strange way of putting it

but then again, you still didn't really understand how things work here, so you go along with it

and you allow yourself to relax. he seems confident in his offer, and he doesn't even see you as some kind of prize to win!

"Oh, well, alright. Thanks! I'm glad you're on it,"

he smiles. "Rest assured, child of man, you're in good hands. My dowry will far outshine the others, and the wedding will be even better,"

"I was honestly getting a little nervous for a momen- wait- wedding!?"

[nomaishuttle]

i think maybe my streak system is a bitttt op...

[heesimp]

Okay but sex addict heeseung pls pls like he loses his damn mind if he doesn't feel a pussy wrapped around him at least twice a day j gehssjsnsj

I looove the sex addict trope so much like it’s so hot imagining heeseung always wanting to fuck to the point that it’s all he can think about

warnings: mentions of porn (videos + magazines), doggy, use of a pocket pussy, fucking while on a zoom meeting (audio and camera are turned off), unprotected sex, creampie, implied mention of multiple rounds of fucking.

-

Heeseung loves sex.

Sex is so natural for him, the feeling of his cock springing to life makes his heart race because he loves getting himself off and watching himself be covered in his sticky cum. He’s always hard, even when his horniness is simmering underneath the surface.

You’re here to satiate that need with him ever since you moved in next door. One text from Heeseung and you’re coming over no matter the time of day because like him, you worked from home.

He’s supposed to be in a meeting but his cock needs to be wrapped up in something warm and tight. His camera and microphone are muted while he plows into your pussy from behind, one knee on his bed while his other foot is planed beside you to push himself so deep into your hole that you feel him right in your cervix.

“Love this tight pussy,” he moans and grips your ass to push and pull you back into him despite the sound of his manager talking in the background. “I’d fuck you all day if you let me.”

Back when he was younger and first learned how he loved to pleasure himself, he thinks his obsession with sex began when he found porn magazines underneath his brother’s bed just before college. He’s not afraid to admit he stole it out of sheer curiosity and felt his cock harden upon seeing naked tits and wet pussies out on full display for him like that. Heeseung pretended these women were spreading themselves out for him and that alone was enough to make his bedsheets dirty every single time.

College was where he let loose. Heeseung practically bathed himself in sex with the amount of girls he’d meet every single weekend at parties to make friends and get some action. This was the first time he’d been away from home and the unsupervised weeks made for a perfect excuse to get fucked up on the weekends and have sex without abandon. Nobody could tell him what to do and he knows he’s hot enough to get his dick wet at the snap of his fingers.

He’s never met anybody who shares his libido but it doesn’t matter to him much when girls opened up their legs for him. He’s not shy about it at all, eating pussy like he’ll die without it and fucking them like he doesn’t know how to do anything else. Heeseung needs to have sex and he needs to have something wrapped up around him at all times of the day. No exceptions.

His best purchase was a pocket pussy when he first moved into his one bedroom apartment without any roommates. Heeseung was free to masturbate whenever he wanted and didn’t have to time the arrival of a dorm mate with his sex sessions. He no longer needed to touch himself in the quiet of the night and didn’t need to worry about how loud he was moaning since there wasn’t a single person who he needed to worry about.

Heeseung would sit in meetings with his camera off and stroke himself with his toy and he’d fuck it during the nights when no one was free to come over. Netflix had nothing on the loud fry of his voice when he’d plunge his hardened cock into the lives toy and it was never enough to cum just once. He knows the tight silicon toy enables his addiction but he really doesn’t care. His favorite way to use it is when he puts his favorite porn videos on his tv and uses it to get off while he puts the toy in all positions on his couch.

Somehow, meeting you the day you moved in next to him felt like fate. He welcomed you into the neighborhood by giving you four consecutive orgasms and the following week made you realize your neighbor loved to fuck.

He abandoned his regular flings for you, telling himself it was the convenience. You loved the feeling is his dick shoved down your throat or when he was lodged inside of your hole, so much that it didn’t matter what time of day it was, you would always be free for him.

You find yourself on your hands and knees more often, especially at this our on this day of the week. This is when Heeseung has an hour long internal meeting that he isn’t needed for but has to attend anyway. It’s the perfect window to have a quick fuck. Heeseung doesn’t even need to text you because you always come knocking on his door when it starts.

“I’m gonna cum again,” he grunts when he watches your orgasm coat his cock. “Fuck, fuck, yeah. I’m cumming baby.”

He stills his hips when he spurts right into you just as his manager shares his screen for a PowerPoint presentation. Heeseung clenches his ass and pushes the rest of his cum out of you, which bubbles around your opening and seeps right back onto his softening cock.

It’s too good to quit. Heeseung doesn’t think he could ever stop fucking.

***

please reblog if you liked it and feel free to send me scenarios and ideas :)