#pizza delivery boy t shirt

[vividxpages]

౨ৎ˚⟡.⭒˚no parents, big house⭒˚⟡˚౨ৎ

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 4400

summary: with his family out of the house for one night, Jacaerys and you decide to make the most of it.

warnings: modern au, established relationship, domestic fluff, wine drinking, they’re both just really in love with each other, smut (making out, dry humping)

a/n: This is my first time writing smut for Jacaerys, I hope you like it, let’s get through this big hiatus and be good to each other! <3

-⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🤍🍕💋୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

When you rang the doorbell of the Targaryen-Strong household, you could already hear screeching coming from behind the door.

Smiling to yourself, you shifted on your feet, the staple of pizza cartons in your hand warm on your palm. A bag hung over your shoulder and excited shivers ran through you at the prospect of spending the entire night over at Jace’s place.

Your boyfriend’s mother and her husband had decided to go out tonight, a rather rare occurrence with multiple boys under their roof and Jace and you had decided to make the most of it. Privacy often was an unknown word here and to both Jace’s and your embarrassment, the two had been caught making out on his bed (in various states of undressing) by his siblings enough times already.

Tonight though, there had been a compromise.

Jace was allowed to spend the night with you, but only if Lucerys took the others to see a movie tonight and the brothers were in charge of making dinner for everyone beforehand. Jacaerys had agreed in a heartbeat and butterflies had taken wing in your stomach when he texted you the plan later, accompanied by three red hearts.

Although Jace was a decent cook – you could confirm this, talking from experience – the pizza had been your idea. And if Jace’s brothers did not love you enough already, the door opened and you and the stacks of pizza were greeted with shouting and frantic hugs before these whirlwinds of dark curly hair disappeared down the hallway in excited chatter and you stood face to face with your boyfriend.

“Hi.” You smiled brightly as he quickly took your important delivery from you.

“Hi.” He breathed, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as always when you two shared a moment. He was wearing his favorite pair of gray joggers and a white shirt, his hair adorably put back in a bun that had you staring at him, utterly in love and anticipating your stay in his home tonight.

Behind his back, a sudden scream could be heard and a pillow flew through the air. You grimaced at the chaos seemingly going on in the living room and your boyfriend’s nostrils flared in annoyance as he threw a stern look over his shoulder.

“I swear they were behaving before; I think we had too many sugar cookies earlier.” He sighed, stepping aside to let you in, his hands subconsciously finding your waist on its own. You leaned up and pressed a small kiss to his cheek, inhaling the delicious smell of his cologne.

“Don’t worry, I’m not your mom.” You joked. You two quickly closed the door, not wanting the neighbors to suspect someone was getting murdered in here.

He chuckled. “Lucky me then.” Into the vague direction of the living room down the hall, he ordered: “Guys, be quiet or we’re going to eat all this pizza by ourselves and I tell mom you’ve terrorized me and Luke all evening.”

This threat brought silence to the house and you snorted.

“Always works.” He told you before grabbing your hand and leading you to the massive living room, big panorama windows offering a look into the garden of the property. Luke was waving at you from the kitchen, his smile still a little sour since he had to take care of their smaller brothers for tonight, as he prepared plates for everyone.

The twins, now relatively calm and obedient, sat side by side on the couch, smiling brightly at you. You dropped your bag by the staircase, kneeling in front of them and ruffling their light hair. “Hey, you two. Jace told me you’re watching a movie tonight?”

Jacaerys adoringly smiled at you as you talked to his baby brothers, his heart melting as always when he could see how well you were getting along with his family. You had been over enough times to earn yourself a permanent spot in the hearts of all his family members and it fulfilled him deeply to know you were his and you belonged with them just as you belonged with him.

Soon, his family was going to go on vacation and last week, his mother had told him she would be delighted to have you there with them as well. He could’ve cried with happiness and the two of you certainly had celebrated, in your own way.

But tonight, he couldn’t wait to play house with you, only for a little while until you were going to move in with each other one day.

“Thank you for the pizza.” Luke mumbled through his bites and you waved it off, leaning into Jace’s side as the group all settled down on the big couch in the middle of the room. You tugged your legs underneath you and sighed happily as you bit into your first piece, one of Jace’s hands that wasn’t occupied with his own slice resting on your naked thigh.

It had been hot outside tonight and you were still wearing shorts. While you listened to the twins’ stories and chatted with Luke, Jace began to slowly circle his thumb on your knee, the gesture as delicate as the brush of a feather. But it was enough to make you falter, all your nerves seeming to travel down to the small patch of skin being touched by him.

It was enough to distract you and yet, it wasn’t nearly enough.

But this sweet torture of his and inevitably, you giving in to it, had to wait for now.

“Want a slice of mine?” You asked him sweetly, offering him a piece of your pizza covered with cherry tomatoes, arugula and hearty cheese. He nodded, leaning forward and letting himself be fed by you. When you wiped a little blob of sauce from the corner of his lips, Luke had enough.

“Can’t you use your own hands, Jace?” He teased, a knowing grin on his mischievous face.

“Aren’t you supposed to leave to see the movie soon?” Jace shot back, unbothered and unashamed as you laughed and licked your finger clean, causing Joffrey to watch the two of you with a disgusted face. Once, when he still had been a little smaller, he had compared the two of you to his own parents because of the way you always gravitated towards each other, always touching when you could, but you couldn’t be sure he wasn’t regretting this comparison now.

Luke looked to the clock on the wall, startling. “Oh shit, we’re going to be late.”

“Oh shit.” The twins echoed and the two older brothers shared a look.

“If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you taught them this.” Jace declared nonchalantly and Luke groaned, taking his plate to the kitchen and telling everyone wanting to see Paw Patrol tonight to hurry up.

You chuckled, kissing Jace’s bony shoulder and standing up as well, taking his plate from him.

“No, no, I’m not letting you wash our dishes, you’re my guest tonight.” He protested and took them to the sink himself. You once again shivered at his words, the prospect of having the whole house to yourselves for a few hours more than enough to spark your wildest fantasies of him…

There was some hustling and bustling going on in the hallway as Jace and you worked together by the sink - a compromise because you always wanted to help - before Joffrey shouted a quick goodbye to you.

“Do you guys want ice cream?” Luke asked his brothers on their way out and Jace groaned, quickly shouting after them: “Don’t give them more sugar!” The door fell shut behind them and soon, you heard the engine of Jace’s car start.

“Don’t worry too much about them.” You told him softly, seeing the way Jace bit on his bottom lip, a common sign that he was overthinking. “They’ll be fine.”

“I know…” He took one of the plates you held up and dunked them into the full sink. “I’m very happy you’re here tonight. I was thinking about it all day.”

“Me too.” You whispered, suddenly short of breath. 

It wasn’t the first time you were sleeping over, but with a house full of people, indulging intimacy with your boyfriend was…difficult. Dinners were spent by the big table with his family and once you retreated into his room upstairs – sometimes after roasting marshmallows over the fire pit outside or playing board games with his competitive parents – the two of you were mostly too tired to stay up any longer. Jace shared a bathroom with Luke, so taking advantage of the luxurious big shower was too risky, and the walls were not as thick as you would’ve guessed for such a big mansion.

So, most of these nights ended cuddled together in his bed, sated and happy and tired, sleepily kissing each other in the darkness until you either fell asleep together or Jace would sneak his warm hands underneath his sleeping shirt on you, ghosting over your body until you’d eventually let out a needy whimper he had to cut off with a kiss or his hand. How often had you come around his skilled fingers, silencing your little moans and gasps in the crook of his neck or breathing them into his mouth? And how often had he softly bitten your neck or shoulder to stifle his moans while you sweetly jerked him to completion, giggling to yourself when he had to stagger out of bed shortly afterwards to find a tissue for your sticky hand?

“Is there something you’d like to do?” Jace asked you, ever so eager to make sure you were the most comfortable you could be. You thought of the sun chairs outside on the terrace and how lovely it was the stargaze together or the pool, its crystal-clear waters flickering seducingly. You thought of the shower, your gaze flickering down to Jace’s subtle but strong muscles, subconsciously licking your lips.

But you also had not seen him all week and you desperately wanted to relish the quietness of his home with him before everyone else came back later tonight.

You shrugged, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I just like to be with you. Maybe we can finish up here and watch a movie and cuddle?”

Jace wanted to melt at your innocent suggestion. “Sounds perfect to me. I’ll dry the plates; you grab us two glasses? Dad brought a fancy wine yesterday.”

You found the bottle in question quickly, your eyes widening at the fancy label around it. “I’m not sure if this is meant for us, Jacey. This is expensive-expensive.”

Jacaerys threw the towel over his shoulder, lacing your fingers together and pulling you to him. You had listened to the radio as you worked and an old school love song was echoing through the kitchen now, your boyfriend goofily swaying to the beat and wrapping his arms around you. “I’ll buy a new one first thing tomorrow. We can act like we’re adults tonight.”

“Jace, we are adults.” You laughed as he twirled you, your arms wrapping around his neck and fingers playing with the stray curls in his nape. You sloppily swayed to the beat, lost in each other’s eyes and smiles and you knew you were not ever going to love anyone else the way you loved Jacaerys. There wasn’t space for anyone else, because you were sure your whole heart only consisted of him.

Eventually, you filled – and emptied - those wine glasses and danced through the kitchen, your laughter echoing through the house, making it your home for the night. You exchanged some giddy kisses and his lips tasted like heavy wine and when you pulled back, his dark eyes laid hazily on you.

Your gaze flickered down to his mouth once more, the wine in your system making it hard to think.

After a moment, he swallowed hard and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

Neither of you had any idea how you managed to stick to the movie, but a little later, you found yourself on the couch, one leg thrown over Jace’s, your head safely nestled in the crook of his neck. Jace had dimmed down the lights of the living room and prepared a bowl of snacks for the two of you while you had changed into something more comfortable.

Now, it had gotten dark outside and the black void of the garden rested to your left while Jace rested his chin on your head, absently picking up some popcorn from time to time as you watched the movie. Earlier, you almost could’ve not hidden the mischievous grin on your face as you quickly snuck under the blankets on the couch, Jace’s back still turned to you. You had picked one of his soft shirts to wear and underneath it, which he had not noticed yet, you were only wearing panties. The lacy, soft pink ones he loved oh so very much.

Jace had returned to caress you mindlessly, his fingers wandering up and down your naked leg and the steady motion made your eyelids drop from time to time, a small yawn escaping you as you nuzzled your face in his neck.

Jace squirmed, not entirely unpleasant. “Hey…’m ticklish.”

“Sorry.” You breathed back, one of your hands finding a good spot on his toned stomach, the fabric separating your palm from his warm skin almost too much to bear. Like this, it went on for a while, both of you focusing less and less on the movie on the big flatscreen and more and more on the little touches you gifted to each other. Wanting, unspoken questions, disguised by innocent affections.

A while ago, he had turned a little, one of his clothed legs having found the perfect spot between your thighs, still held back by the fluffy blanket draped over you. But you were slowly having enough of useless fabrics between the two of you and Jace’s lean leg between you wasn’t exactly helping to ease the growing pull in your stomach.

You shuffled even closer and Jace tore his dark eyes away from the screen to look deeply into yours, his plush lips slightly agape as he watched you grind your hips forward, your hand drifting beneath his shirt to ghost over his skin. You felt the muscles in his stomach tense underneath your touch, his breath ghosting over your lips and when he finally dared to capture your mouth with his, you let out a relieved sigh.

Forgotten was the movie that had not interested you from the start as Jace blindly grabbed the bowl of snacks and moved it out the way. His hand drifted over your thigh as he delicately cupped your cheek, making your blood tingle underneath his soft touch, and finally snuck underneath the blanket.

You grinned against his lips, tilting your head to give him more access as a shaky sigh escaped him, his fingers trying to feel where the seam of your shorts began. Instead, his fingertips brushed over silk and lace and his mind short-circuited.

He pulled back, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he looked at you through them. Both of you were breathing hard, with flushed cheeks and arousal coursing through your veins. He looked at you like you were a miracle, not believing how he managed to end up with such a lovely creature. You pushed your thighs together as he slowly licked his lip, feeling already that your precious panties were going to be soaked very soon. And to think that he had not even gotten started…

“Jace…” You whispered, almost a whine as his thumb brushed over the lacy material, his pupils blown wide as he leaned forward and kissed your neck. You threw your head back, whimpering as his teeth dragged over a sensitive spot. “Please.”

He peeled away the blanket, letting it fall to the floor and looked down, your shirt messily pushed upward to reveal your tummy and the soft pink panties. You swore you could see the dragon in him, his family symbol just lingering underneath the surface. His knee was still resting between your thighs, not yet giving you what you craved so much. Your mouth watered as his darkened gaze landed on you again, his thumb brushing over your wet bottom lip. He whispered, his hoarse voice sending goosebumps through you; “You’re the most beautiful girl…god, you’re driving me insane with how much I want you.”

You exhaled shakily. “You got me.”  You nodded, trusting him with your whole being. You both had known how this night would’ve ended and yet, you could never prepare yourself for the intensity of your feelings for Jace. Your hand freed his hair from the scrunchie tied to it and you brushed through his soft curls.

“I love you.” Jace murmured and attached his lips to your neck once more, finally having some mercy on you as he pushed his knee forward and making you cry out. The rough fabric of his joggers pressed against your thin, wet panties, the delicious pressure making you weak in the knees. You threw your head back, your arms naturally resting around his neck as you pushed your chests together, sinking into the pillows behind you in bliss.

Jacaerys paced the rhythm, slowly grinding against you with his thigh, feeling your legs    quiver as little lightning shot through your core with each of his motions. Cuddling with him for so long had heightened all your senses, making it hard to concentrate as you pushed your hips forward, riding his thigh as he peppered kisses against your skin, drawing aside the shirt from your shoulder so he could leave a loving mark there, too.

With a particular enthusiastic buck forward, you made him hiss, your little whines and whimpers having made him rock-hard and straining against his own pants. You placed two fingers underneath his chin, drawing him up into a desperate and messy kiss and his hands on your waist tightened their hold.

“C’mere, baby.” He murmured into your mouth, his thigh still rubbing against your most sensitive part. “In my lap, up you go.”

You let yourself be hoisted up until your knees were placed on either side of his slim hips and you gasped into his mouth, your core now deliciously pressed against his length. He placed his shaking hand into your hair and your hands found purchase on his chest, helping him to take it off and throw it somewhere else.

You giggled, head spinning with pleasure as you were juggled around in his lap by him wriggling out of these damn joggers off, your laugh suddenly cut off when he bucked his hips up into yours, the outline of his dick fitting perfectly against you.

“Can I take this off?” Jace asked you breathless, playing with the hem of your shirt and you pecked his lips encouragingly.

“Yes, please.” You could feel his heart beating fast underneath your palm. “I might go insane if you don’t.” You bit your lip and Jace groaned, quickly nodding as he lifted your shirt over your heart and tugging you close against him so you wouldn’t be cold at first.

“Anything you want.” He mumbled, eyes glazed over with love as he looked at you, his fingers ghosting along the underside of your chest, his thumb soothingly touching one of your nipples. “God, you’re incredible. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You smiled and then, you did not talk anymore, driven by the growing need for each other now. You started to grind your hips forward again, hissing at how amazing the friction felt for now, the little gasp Jacaerys let out only encouraging you to continue like this.

His hands seemed to be everywhere at once as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to brush your hair back, caress your chest or guide your hips with them. You felt the mixture of the wine from earlier and the warmth in your core get to your head, the room around you spinning as you found another fantastic angle which made his clothed dick rub over your wet clit just right.

You let out a long-drawn moan, doubling your effort and leaning close to Jace so he could hear every little sound he lured from deep within your body. And in return, he made sure you heard him, his gasps soon turning into the sweet whines you loved so much. There was a wet patch on his briefs as you looked down and you had been a mess anyway and none of it mattered the slightest if he only continued to move you around in his lap like he did now.

“’m close…” You told him, brows scrunched together and eyes closed in pleasure as you rubbed yourself against him. Jace was watching your every movement, fascinated how someone as delicate and sweet as you could really belong to him, peppering kisses on your exposed chest and tugging you forward hard, back and forth on his dick, again and again, a thousand nerves in both your bodies alight.

“So perfect for me, so sweet…” He mumbled and your core clenched around nothing at his sugary affirmations. He kissed your cheek, your neck, over and over again, feeling as your grasp on control continued to slip. “Wanna see you come, my love, fuck- I love you so much…”

“Love you.” You whimpered, mouth a little o-shape, sweat on your forehead and Jace could not help himself, he needed to feel you.

His hand disappeared in your panties, one of his fingers finding your achingly hot clit as the other gathered up your wetness. You keened loudly, doubling over in sweet and utter defeat, immediately caught by his arms and held against his chest. You could’ve sobbed with pleasure as he rubbed one, two, three circles on your clit and then you exploded into a million stars, shattering into stardust right in his safe embrace.

Your orgasm tore through you like a crashing wave and Jace held you through it, throwing his head back against the couch’s backrest, groaning deeply from his chest as he felt himself spill into his underwear, the friction and your sweet sounds too much for his system. You still rode him and his soaked fingers, chasing the high he had gifted you, his fingers continuing to guide you through it all, only slowing their efforts when he felt you twitch with little aftershocks and overstimulation.

Your body slumped against his, breathing heavy and hot as you let out a satisfied smile.

He kissed your temple, hugging you close and closing his eyes as your heart beats slowly calmed down again until they were almost beating as one. You let yourself be held by him, tiredly drawing little hearts on his chest and smiling happily as he kissed your cheek.

“Feeling good?” He asked quietly and brushed back your sweaty hair.

You lifted your head, nodding timidly as you kissed his freckled nose. “Amazing. And you?”

“Perfect.” He smiled blissfully and when you shifted to get more comfortable, both of you grimaced at the sticky feeling. “We made quite a mess, huh?”

Your eyes widened and you hid your face in his neck. “Oh god, do you think anyone will notice?” Suddenly you could not believe you both had let this get so far, in the living room of his family as well-

“Nah, everyone won’t be home for another couple of hours and we can air out the room through the terrace doors.” His eyes sparkled as they looked you over, tucked against him, perfect in every way. “We’ll clean up here and go up to my room to clean you up, okay? Does that sound good?”

“And we’ll cuddle?” You wanted to know, a safe and sacred part of your soul only coming to show itself when Jacaerys was taking care of you like this. To know he knew what you needed and to simply let yourself be led by him made your mind blissfully empty yet full of love and adoration for your boyfriend.

“Yes, love, of course we’ll cuddle.” He pecked your cheek and helped you stand up. (But then again, this whole thing had started out by simply cuddling too, didn’t it?) When you lifted your arms obediently, he slid his shirt back on you and collected his own from the floor, arranging the pillows neatly and folding the blanket like nothing inappropriate had ever happened here.

You laughed as you tried to walk on wobbly legs, only to be scooped up by Jace before you could even reach the staircase. “I think we ruined your favorite underwear.” You whispered into his ear and he blushed madly.

“You can wear one of my boxer shorts if you want.” He offered and you nodded quickly, always a little thief when it came to his clothing. He carried you upstairs, mindful so your legs wouldn’t bump into anything, and gently set you down on his bed once you reached it, kissing your forehead one more time before he rummaged through his closet and found you something to sleep in.

It was ridiculous how happy you felt, how unbelievably in love you were with Jacaerys Targaryen-Strong. You watched him with soft eyes, nearly melting when he cleaned you up with a warm washcloth first, then helped you dress and slid into his twin size bed with you in his arms.

You kissed his smooth jaw, getting comfortable in the familiar safety surrounding you. His fingers were stroking up and down your spine in an easy rhythm.

“I think I’m going to give your brothers gift cards for the cinema for their birthdays.” You mumbled sleepily against him and he laughed, the sound like bells in your ears. 

With it, you drifted off into a wonderful, dreamless sleep and he followed you soon after…

When Rhaenyra came back later that night, finding her sons passed out in their beds, she couldn’t help but peek into her oldest’s room, finding the two of you sleeping peacefully and entwined with each other. 

In the morning over breakfast, she kept it to herself that the TV had still been running and you two had left the terrace door open…

𓆩♡𓆪

taglist: @earth4angels @princessvelaryon

If you would like to be tagged for Part 2, let me know with a comment <3

[munsonthings86]

sunshine

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a love-struck steve cooks you dinner for the first time

warnings: cursing, alcohol, bit of backstory, oversimplified summary, steve's parents kinda suck (when do they not), best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, soft!steve

an: i think this is my favorite thing i’ve ever written. i'm so in love with these two. i hope you all enjoy this one as much as i do. * don’t copy my work * (also pretend there's a big city near hawkins for the sake of this pls)

wc: 6.0k

“Ow!” Steve hissed, nicking his finger yet again as he made his best effort to dice pesky onions. The knife was razor-sharp as it was fresh out of its packaging, having never been used yet. Frustrated, he squeezed the band-aid he'd spent a solid ten minutes looking for, tighter on his finger, earning a harsh sting.

"Goddamned knife," he whispered, tightlipped, but as soon as the complaint left his lips he wished to yank it back in. It was the chef's knife you'd bought him along with many other thoughtful housewarming gifts to celebrate Steve moving into his first apartment. Steve had insisted that you return some of the gifts, noting that "one gift was more than he could ever ask for".

In spite of his pleas, you didn't return a single gift. Of course, you didn't. You had bought items you knew Steve would need but would ultimately forget to buy for himself. Just to name a few, you'd gotten him a trash bin for his bathroom, a record player, and the best utensil set that the rest of your Family Video paycheck could buy.

Peering at the odd assortment of household objects you'd lugged into his barren apartment with a bright smile pulling at the corners of your lips, an expression of gratitude and bewilderment claimed his face. Steve's round, chestnut-brown eyes ogled yours as you ranted and raved, explaining your thought process behind each purchase.

The record player was for nights like these. Peaceful nights indoors, simply enjoying each other's company without the tense presence of his parents who would shout for him to turn that damn music down if he even thought about letting the needle hit the groove of the record.

"Now we can play music as loud and as much as we want to," he remembered you saying, blushing at your use of the word "we". Though you two were only best friends and have been since grade school, Steve couldn't help but fantasize about a life with you. You, drowning in one of his bigger-than-you t-shirts, prancing around the apartment as you listened to some your favorite records.

He'd begun pondering on how he would rearrange the bit of furniture he had, that'd allow for space for your belongings as well, before you lured him out of his thoughts, defending the bin.

From what he gathered, you bought the garbage bin due to his burning inability to keep his bathroom clean. Steve was someone who took great care of his appearance, always well-kempt and attentive to even the smallest of details.

His bathroom did not reflect this, whatsoever. He had a bad habit of harboring empty cans and bottles of Farrah Fawcett spray that littered the already limited counter space he had in his en suite bathroom.

Steve was such a boy when it came to tidiness.

Everyone knew that about Steve, though. What they didn’t know, however, was how skilled he was in a kitchen. After being left to his lonesome whenever his parents would venture off to one of their many business trips, Steve spent his nights learning to cook after his allowance dwindled and he couldn't afford pizza delivery anymore. The second he'd clock in for his shift at Family Video, he'd make a beeline to where you stood, stocking VHS tapes, and instantly began buzzing and bustling about the new recipe he tried the night before.

You had begged him to let you come over one night to taste one of his home-cooked meals, but his response was always the same. "You can't rush perfection, sweets. But I promise, when I'm ready to grace the world with my master chef skills, you'll be the first to know."

You would roll your eyes dramatically at him but admittedly, you felt a sense of pride wash over you whenever Steve would tell you about his cooking endeavors. It may not seem like a big deal to others, but you knew how much his parents being so negligent, so often, bothered him.

Though they were never the most warm and affectionate, there seemed to be a colder chill and heavier sense of loneliness in the house when they were gone. That's why you never denied Steve whenever he'd call late at night asking if it was okay to spend the night at your house.

He always felt at home there.

Steve learning to cook for himself meant that his parents' absence was finally beginning to help him grow; no longer craving validation and tenderness from his family. He got that when he was with you. That's what the utensil set was for. A silent sign saying that though his parents weren't there, you were.

"Don't get me wrong, sunshine, I love the gift, but why's this knife so funny looking?" Steve asked, squinting his eyes at the sharp object that looked like it was from some alien universe. It had three square-like holes infiltrating the blade, and the tip came to an up-turned point that split in two. The handle was the only average looking part about it.

"That, my friend, is a cheese knife," you answered matter-of-factly, gazing at the box that had all of the included utensils neatly labeled.

"They make knives specifically for cheese?"

"Apparently, yeah," you snorted, tossing the empty box off to the side of the room with the other discarded cardboard that you made a mental note to move to the recycling bin on your way out. Steve never recycled. Bad habit he picked up from his parents, you figured.

"Well, I can't wait to use my weird new knife. Thank you. Seriously," Steve smiled softly as he watched you with those big brown eyes that voiced his gratitude and sentiment louder than his words ever could.

"The best weird chef has to have the best weird equipment. You're welcome," you grinned, toying with the loose thread dangling from your distressed band tee, as your eyes collided with Steve’s.

Looking at Steve was hard.

In the midst of quiet and almost intimate moments like these, the nerves bolting through your body screamed at you to look anywhere else, but the greed of your heart yearned for you to keep drinking in the deep chocolate pools that were Steve Harrington's eyes.

The two of you gazed at each other for another second, though it felt identical to a blissful eternity, until Steve furrowed his eyebrows after registering what you'd just uttered. "Did you just call me weird?" He asked, hand on his hip as if he's offended, though he truthfully isn't because he's positive you're infinitely weirder than he is, and he's more than willing to debate with you for hours on that topic.

"Nooo," you sang, quickly turning away to distract yourself with some unpacking that Steve had called you over to help him with, which you happily agreed to. A little extra time with him was time well spent.

"Yeah, okay," he rolled his eyes. He happily tucked away the flashy silverware he'd poached from his parent's kitchen into the darkest corner of the drawer, leaving the less flashy but much more appreciated utensils you bought him, front and center, ready to be shown off.

"Oh those? My best friend got them for me. Aren't they nice? Did you know they make knives for cheese?" He imagined himself saying, hoping he'd get the opportunity to boast about them to his guests some time soon.

Steve smiled to himself at the memory, angling the cutting board that harbored a pile of diced onions that he'd at last conquered, into a bowl, sliding them off with the blade of a knife that was a lot less odd shaped compared to his trusty cheese knife. It didn't even have to be that specific memory. It could've been any imagery of you being the effortlessly sarcastic, intelligent, breath-taking person that you were, and it would be the warm light to inevitably guide him out of whatever dark mood that dared to plague him.

Steve was so helplessly in love with you.

April 14, 1978, he could never forget the day, was particularly dreary. So dreary it made Steve begin to question why the spring time was thought to be such a radiant, pleasant season when all it ever did was bring rain and provoke people with allergies. Steve slammed his blaring alarm off with a groan, never bothering to pry open his tired eyes.

The sky was dark and dreadful, concealing the golden rays of the sun he yearned to see. As he trudged through the house, reluctantly gearing himself up for yet another torturous day of middle school, Steve silently prayed for some unorthodox happenstance that would call for the canceling of school.

But much to his dismay, that wasn't the case.

When the bell pierced through the classroom speakers, alerting the beginning of Steve's favorite class, P.E., he rushed to the locker room, jumping into his gym uniform, as he was determined to continue his unfaltering streak of dodgeball victories.

Steve was in the zone, taking out his opponents left and right as if it was nothing. If dodgeball was an Olympic sport, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he could've won multiple gold medals.

Then you came.

Sauntering into sixth grade gym class, adorning a lengthy, bright yellow dress with your hair done up, looking as anxious as can be. It was your first day at Hawkins Middle and you'd just transferred halfway into the semester, all thanks to your parents decision to move to the small town, leaving New York City and all your friends behind.

Everyone turned their curious heads to peer at you, whispering amongst each other, prompting you to clutch your books tighter to your chest as if to shield yourself. Your soft smile as you looked around at your new classmates instantly made Steve's chest and stomach warm and gooey inside, making him want nothing more than to walk up to you and convince you to be his friend. Steve hated how gossipy his classmates were, as it clearly made you uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to look away either.

The way the illuminous medallion hue complimented your skin tone was nothing short of art. To him, you were the sun personified. The sun he was so eager to see.

Due to your lack of sports attire, Coach Daniels had you sit on the bleachers, watching as the other kids resumed their game of dodgeball after mumbling a "warm" welcome to you, per Coach's request.

Steve lost his first game of dodgeball that day. He just couldn't seem to focus when you were perched just a few feet away, thumbing through your withered book, looking like one of the prettiest girls he'd ever laid his adolescent eyes on. Steve, or the boy with the hella good hair as you dubbed him in your diary later on that night, was too enamored with you to be bothered by the taunts coming from his friends. He jogged over to you, offering to keep you company until fourth period began, which you happily accepted.

And ever since then, the two of you have been as thick as thieves.

"Hawkins PD, open up!" Steve recognized your muffled voice, though you deepened it, to imitate a police officer. Your signature three knocks followed, urging butterflies to erupt throughout his stomach, as he longed to see you. It couldn't have been more than twenty-four hours since the two of you had last seen each other, but even one hour without you was an hour way too long for poor Steve.

"It's open", Steve called, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder, setting the stove ablaze, planting a pot over the flame. Right on time, he thought.

"Hey, Harrington," you smiled as you struggled to enter, cradling two bottles of rosé wine and your purse in your arms, pushing the door open with the help of your hip.

"Hey, sunshine. Lemme get those for ya," Steve offered, stowing your bearings on the counter gently, while you kicked your shoes off, mumbling a "thanks".

A warm amber light casted from the ceiling of the kitchen spilled into the shadowy living room a few feet away, like a neglected can of paint. The only thing that remained un-melted by the darkness was the quiet record player, as if the generous light knew you'd be looking for it the minute you walked in.

"How was your day?" Steve smirked as he watched you rush over to the object he swore was the only reason you liked to come over, sifting through the vinyl's searching for your favorite one. What’s Love Got To Do With It by Tina Turner. Steve spotted it before you did. Absentmindedly, you responded, “Not too shabby, ya know? How was yours?”

“Yeah, it was alright.”

You crouched down to the two tier storage table, running a finger across the spines of the records, searching for your beloved song. It quickly became the song you most adored when you'd bought the tape for your Walkman a few years prior. Your days weren't complete unless you played the song at least twice, so much so that Steve found himself quietly humming the song to himself whenever he'd miss you. He even caught himself doing that dumb little finger dance you normally did whenever you listened to a song you really liked. He'd never tell you that, though.

Much to your dismay, you couldn't seem to spy that sneaky record. You dropped your hand disappointedly, faintly fearsome that it'd been misplaced. Steve's apartment wasn't huge, but it wasn't exactly tidy either. “It’s right there, sweets. To your left.” So you diverted your attention to the left. No Tina Turner. “No, your other left.”

“Here?” you pointed. Steve hummed in confirmation.

“Well, that’s not the left, Steve. That’s the right,” was your response that you punctuated with a roll of your tired eyes. Apart from knowing how to get to Skull Rock with his eyes closed, the boy had zero sense of direction. It was something you found both endearing and infuriating. It depended on the day, really.

“Potato, potahto.” Oh, Steve. Melting butter into the burning pan in front of him that he almost completely forgot about, all thanks to your beautiful presence, he began sautéing his diced onions along with some fresh garlic. "Well, speaking of 'potahtoes' you need to be cooking some, 'cause you promised me dinner tonight," you smiled tight-lipped, cocking your head at an angle.

You felt the unpleasant sensation of your stomach growling, cursing you, at the heavenly thought of food as your shift at Family Video earlier today was unforgiving to your non-existent breakfast. You fumbled with the vinyl a bit as the mouthwatering aroma of home cooking stormed your senses and Steve spoke once more. "Feisty today, aren't we?"

"Just a tad," you laughed quietly.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you but tonight we're not having potatoes. I'm making your favorite," he pointed, shuffling the pan to give it a gentle stir. He made sure to turn to face you in time to see your hopefully delighted reaction. "Alfredo?!" you spun around with a glittering grin, almost knocking over Steve's plant. A fake one, of course. A real plant was a bit too much responsibility for him.

At the nod of his head, your cheesy smile soften to a smaller, less toothy one as you watched Steve while he resumed cooking. What you failed to share with your best friend was that the last phrase you'd actually use to describe your day was "not too shabby". Besides waking up almost an entire hour past the start of your shift (Keith made sure to give you an earful about that) and everyone and their mother in town deciding to be at Family Video today, it seemed like your day was never-ending. The only thing keeping your mood from turning stink to sour was the idea of going to see Steve.

Steve was kind of magical in that way. Anger, sadness, anxiety, you name it, it was no match for Steve. Though he was no poet, he had this way with words that would never fail to make you feel so comforted. So safe. Any instance where Steve had to talk you out of whatever mental turmoil you were enduring, it felt you were being endlessly wrapped in a cozy, tight blanket, sheltering you from all the darkness.

How Steve knew you were having a shit day and needed your favorite meal along with your favorite boy? Lord knows. His ability to read you without even needing to be near you was nothing short of wizardry. But like you said. Steve was magical.

"You're the best," you proclaimed, prompting a mumbled sly remark from your chef for the evening, before the music began. Being here, along with the divine sound of Tina's ethereal voice and pasta boiling in water, was more than enough to make you feel like you were right at home, though your true address was miles away. When the time to depart would make its cursed arrival, it was never easy to leave, especially with the way Steve begged for you to stay, using those unfairly adorable puppy dog eyes that paired beautifully with his lengthy lashes, against you.

And it always worked. Well, not always. You had some degree of self-control. But more times than not, you couldn't help but to cave in to his protests. How could you resist? It was Steve.

With a satisfied grin that carved deep smile lines into his blushing cheeks, he'd tuck his sheets snug around your body, repeatedly asking you if you were comfortable enough. His bed was cloud-like, plush and doughy and his pillows smelled like his shampoo and conditioner, a hint of cologne on his comforter. It was like you were trapped in a cocoon of Steve. You wanted to tell him you were beyond comfortable, that there, in his bed, you were in just about your favorite place on Earth but, habitually, you concluded that a simple nod would suffice.

Crawling onto the empty space beside you, he made sure to face you, leaving a soft squeeze on your shoulder before humming "G'night, sunshine," closing his eyes and tucking his hands under his head. And like always, Steve was a perfect gentleman, dead set on never getting under the covers himself when you'd sleep over.

Guilt would disrupt your relaxation at the sight of the brisk night chill building little hills on his freckled arms, though you selfishly loved the way he'd cuddle up to steal some of your body heat. His plump lips would part as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, light snores and chirping crickets being your lullaby.

You hoped to have another night like that soon.

In the midst of times like those, storms of wonder and doubt raged on. Was Steve like this with everyone else? Were you being silly thinking that you and Steve could be more than friends? Being Steve's best friend for nearly a decade, you knew he wasn't exactly a prude. His King Steve era was honestly one of your least favorites. Though he reserved his usual tenderness and affection all for you, you've witnessed a whole slew of girls enter and leave Steve's life, and none of them looked like you.

You wanted nothing more than to be one of the girls he'd have leaned up against his locker, arm resting next to their head, cheeks fanned by his minty breath as he whispered honeyed words. You craved dates at the drive-in theater in Steve's burgundy 1983 BMW only to neglect the movie and end up making out, like he did with other girls.

When Steve would bring his latest lover around, desperately, you did your damnedest to bury your jealousy and and fill its grave with merriment for him, because if anyone deserved to be happy, it was Steve. But the girls at school only wanted to be with Steve because of his status and all the flashy things he could buy them.

The flashy things were dull to you, though.

You wanted to be with Steve because you wanted to hold his hand and press soft kisses to his cheek. To hug him a little tighter and little longer than a best friend normally would. To run your fingers through his fluffy hair whenever he would grow stressed because you knew it calmed him down. To make him breakfast in bed when he was sick and even when he wasn't. To love him your fullest potential.

But you had to settle for this. Calves tucked under your thighs with a blanket draped over your legs as you stared off into space, longing for someone you thought you couldn't have, not knowing he was stealing glances of you wondering what was running through your pretty little head.

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, holding your head up, your lips were downturned in a pout, eyebrows pulled together as you studied the throw pillow a few inches away from you. A little pillow can't be that interesting, something has to be bothering you, he thought. He was unapologetically curious to know if pressing his lips against your own would make that frown melt into that sweet smirk you usually had.

Steve hated when you were unhappy. It made his mind race. Did someone say something to you? Did someone do something to you? Did you eat today? How was your shift? Why did you lie when you said your day "wasn't too shabby"? Obviously it was shabby. Look at your face. That tired and troubled, cute little face. What can he do to fix it? You were his sunshine, you deserved to be happy, always.

Giving the pot a final stir and turning the flame off, Steve carelessly tossed the grease-stained hand towel flopped over his shoulder, down by the sink, strolling over to where he'd earlier set down the two bottles of wine. White Zinfandel. Neither you or Steve were wine connoisseurs, but when you called Nancy panicking about how extensive the selection at the liquor store was, she swore by it.

Balancing two glasses and a single bottle of the rose-tinted alcohol, Steve took an extra glance at your face, deciding to scoop up the second bottle into his arms. By the looks of it, it was gonna be one of those nights.

You tried to hide your smile as you noticed he was coming over, a slight grin on his face as he set the glasses down. You and him both knew he was only coming to cause trouble. He set the delicate haul down on to the thrifted wooden coffee table in front of you, slipping you one of those comforting 'Steve smiles' he usually did.

Like the forgotten towel, he threw himself down on the couch next to you, warm hand having a much softer landing on the plush of your thigh; a familiar and welcomed touch. Habitually, you curled up closer to him, no longer able to hide your smile.

"Why so glum, chum?" He tilted his chin down, slightly poking his bottom lip out, as he looked at you through batting eyelashes.

Laughing through your nose and subsequently parading a grin that displayed nothing but teeth and hollow happiness, you remarked, "What do you mean? Don't you see me smiling?"

You were fooling absolutely no one. Steve knew you were sad. And, goddamn it, he was gonna get it out of you.

"You know exactly what I mean, you weren't smiling just a few seconds ago until I came over. You're welcome, by the way, I'm flattered that I have such an effect on you," he smirked, placing a hand on his chest in gratitude.

"Okay, now I'm glum again," you roll your eyes at his not-so discreet cockiness. You hid your face in your hands, resting your forehead on Steve's shoulder. It was hard with muscle, but soft with tenderness and safety. "I was smiling at the wine, for your information."

The palm of your hand that pressed against your face muffled your words, but Steve could still understand what you said, it was evident in the way your tone was laced with satire.

"Ah, yes, that makes way more sense" Steve replied, monotone. His thumb began coasting along your skin as he urged you, "Alright, jokes aside. How are you really feeling?"

Hoisting your head up, you almost answered before he continued, "And don't give me that 'not too shabby' crap 'cause that frown you had going on earlier already snitched on ya."

When the hell did he get so observant? Steve was no idiot, but sometimes things needed to be spelled out for him. But come to think of it, you never had to spell things out for Steve whenever it came to you. He just always had a way of knowing.

"I don't know, Steve. Honestly. Some days are just a bit tougher than others. Today was one of those days," you murmured, avoiding the attentive gaze he was burning into your shifty eyes.

He slowly nodded as he processed your words, head falling on top of yours as you again found comfort on his shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut as you began mimicking the affection he was giving you on your thigh, rubbing his arm through the creamy cotton material of his crewneck. You hadn't seen it before. This one was new. So were the jeans he'd paired with it.

"Why're you dressed so nice, Harrington?"

He laughed more to himself than to you. "Well, the food can't be the only thing that looks good, you know? Wanted to look nice too. It's our first dinner together, after all," he mumbled the last bit.

Steve felt the skin around your eyes tighten against his shoulder as your eyebrows scrunched together. "We've had dinner together before, though."

"This one's different," he replied, almost instantly. You'd hoped Steve's eyes were still closed so that he wouldn't see the bashfulness you were weathering, plucking the corners of your lips into a soft smile.

A silence fell between the two of you. Not unusual. Not awkward. Never unusual or awkward. There was a mutual cherishment of moments like these. Shamelessly invading each other's personal space on the couch as if it was made to only fit one person, music playing lowly the distance, but preferring to listen to the sound of the other's breathing.

"How can I make you feel better, sunshine?" Steve questioned, voice still hushed. The volume of your voice wasn't much louder as you responded, thoughtlessly, "You don't have to ask me that. You make me feel better without even trying."

"Oh yeah?" He craned his neck so that his head was impossibly closer to yours, awaiting your confirmation. Steve knew that you enjoyed his company, as he did yours, but he was only joking earlier when he gushed about having such an effect on you. It was now his turn to hide his blush, when you hum, nodding your head fervently.

These were the warm moments that confused you so much more than any subject in school ever did. And unbeknownst to you, it messed with Steve's head too. He'd never been this close with anyone before. Especially not with any of his "girlfriends" in the past. Sure, they'd cuddle and talk about their feelings. But it never felt the way it does with you. Steve was in love with you. It was hopeless.

And he had to make it known. Soon. If not, he swore he'd explode.

"Ready to eat?"

"Mhm," you buzzed, untangling yourself from the envelop of Steve. As he pressed his knuckles into the sofa, willing himself up, you reached for the bottle of wine and a glass, but your hand only made it so far until it felt the sting of a petty swipe from the boy next to you. "Ah ah, missy, dinner first. Lord knows how many hours its been since you last ate."

You snorted, "Relax, it hasn't been that long."

"Oh yeah? When was the last time?" He looked at you with raised eyebrows and an expression that said he already knew your answer was going to be ridiculous. And if there was anything you learned tonight, it was that Steve was highly skilled at knowing when you were lying, so instead, you left him with a goofy smile and giggle that told him he was absolutely right in his assumption.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the spot where he sat went cold as he left to the kitchen, fixing two plates for the both of you. You moved the drinks and glasses over to the dining table, using a nearby lighter to ignite the accompanying lavender and vanilla scented candles. Tina Turner's vinyl was replaced with Tears for Fears' album Songs from The Big Chair instead, as Steve used his elbow to dim the kitchen lights, hands full with heavy plates of pasta.

"Oh my gosh, this looks so good! Good job, Stevie," you cheered, as he set your plate down in front of you, pouring you a much needed glass of wine. Your hands shook with hunger or excitement, or both, as you picked up your fork, ready to dig in. "Yeah, don't get too psyched yet. Let's hope it tastes as good as it looks."

"I'm sure it does."

His knee rests against yours as he sits adjacent to you, gathering food on his fork, though his eyes are peering at you, awaiting your verdict. The mouthwatering smell of garlic, butter, cheese and other heaven-sent elements overwhelm your nose and you feel like you can't eat it soon enough. You pause for a beat and so does his heart, hand over your messy mouth as you chew. Steve's hand twitches as he contemplates wiping the sauce from the corners of your lips and licking his finger clean.

"Steve," you begin, eyes flickering shut. "I'm gonna need you to cook for me every night. This is so fucking good." The tension in his face eases at your palpable delight, mission well accomplished. He was proud of himself. Very proud. Almost as much as you were of him.

You throw your head back, the purest form of satisfaction consuming you. "I'm glad you like it, I've been trying to nail it for weeks," Steve laughs, finally taking a bite for himself.

"Well, you've succeeded," you beam, washing it down with a sip of wine. Everybody Wants to Rule the World begins playing and you smile at Steve, knowing it was his favorite song at the moment. You nod your head along as Steve hums. A truly peaceful pocket in time.

Through the large windows opening the living room to the rest of Hawkins, you had the perfect view of the bright lights and mountainous buildings from the neighboring city. It was like the sky had flipped on its axis and the stars weren't in the sky anymore, they were among the trees and high rise properties.

"Steve, look how pretty," you point towards the window as his gaze shifts from you to raindrop-riddled glass. "I love being able to see the city so close. Sucks that we can't see the stars, though. I've always wanted to go stargazing."

"Yeah, I remember you mentioning that a while ago. We gotta go one of these days," he replied, shoving a forkful of alfredo into his mouth.

"Oh, did you wanna go too?"

He shrugs his shoulders, chewing before speaking, "Eh, I'm not really a big stars guy. Besides, if I wanna see a pretty little light, all I gotta do is look at you," he says inattentively, going right back to eating as if he hadn't just said the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you.

"Shut up, Harrington," you roll your eyes, letting out a half-hearted laugh as you take your last bite. How could he flirt with you so easily? So carelessly? Couldn't he see that you loved him and that whenever he says things like that it does something to you? Clueless boy.

"I'm serious. Why do you think I always call you sunshine?" He replies, not a hint of irony in his face.

"Steve," you warn, sitting back in your chair. You didn't know where this conversation was going, and you'd be damned if you got your hopes up for what you always got whenever you did: absolutely nothing.

"It's why I love when you wear yellow. Reminds me of the first time I ever saw you," he pressed. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Clueless girl.

"Steve," your voice wavered. "What? Why do you keep saying my name like that?" He laughed, dryly.

He grew worried that he was saying too much. Saying things that a person shouldn't say to their best friend. He took a sip of his wine. Then another. Then another. He was considering just downing the whole glass. Maybe he was saying too much.

Screw that, he was in love with you.

"What're you saying to me right now?" You charged, voice a little harsher than what you'd intended, but you demanded an answer. A straightforward one. "I'm saying that I'm done hiding it."

"Hiding what?"

"That I love you."

The revelation yanks your parted lips shut, unsure of what to say next. You had dreamed for what felt like a lifetime for Steve to say those words to you and at last, it was no longer a dream, but instead reality. The rapid pace of your heartbeat could be felt in your chest and ears, and the butterflies in your stomach were more wild and untamed than ever before.

Steve's eyes didn't leave yours, though the stillness from you was killing him. The silence between you two that was once never awkward or unusual, was now painful and nearly unbearable.

Your dilated pupils scanned over his face, relentlessly. The jokey, teasing grin that he often sported when he was messing with you was unaccounted for. Holy shit. The gate to your thoughts opened once more. "You're serious," you whispered.

"How could I not be?" Steve watched you with adoring eyes, the warm light of the candle giving the melted chocolatey pond the sweetest infusion of honey.

"Kiss me."

Forks and butter knives fall to the ground with several, loud unpleasant clanks as Steve leans over the square dining table, hungrily pressing his lips against yours. His lips are garlicky and a little chapped, as yours probably are as well, yet the kiss is nothing short of perfect.

His mouth does a passionate dance against yours as you follow his lead, embracing the plush little pillows with your own. It was both everything you've imagined it'd be and nothing like you'd thought at the same time. You already knew Steve was an amazing kisser. Anyone who went to Hawkins High knew it. But experiencing it for yourself was completely different and new. It was euphoric.

The two of you have to reluctantly pull yourselves off of each other to catch your breaths. This moment was a long time coming.

Steve's hands are still holding onto to either side of your face, unwilling to let you go just yet. Truly savoring every second of the present. His breath fans across your cupid's bow, as he smiles against your lips. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

Giggling, you wrap your palms and fingers around his wrists, rubbing your nose on his. "Sorry," you shrug, feeling his thumbs caress your warm cheeks.

"Don't be," he shakes his head, engulfing your soft lips into another kiss.

message from jojo: pls comment and reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot <3

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

It started with a broken cookie.

Three valentines ago, when you were single and sad about it, angry that it got you upset, morose that you couldn’t help but feel that way.

Working in the bakery on Main meant that you spent the whole week leading up to the holiday handing out heart shaped cookies with the names of different girls and boys in the center, the sugar icing all shades of pink and red. Your fingertips were stained cotton candy by the time the day arrived, hands aching from piping cursive, loops and swirls and glitter and sprinkles stuck to your skin.

You complained about it when you visited the video store on your lunch breaks, bringing in half decorated cookies that hadn’t quite made the cut for sale, handing hearts to Steve and Robin with an almost petulant look on your face. You didn’t have a valentine and there you were, still delivering treats to the ones you loved most. Robin bit into hers with a sigh, red icing on her lips, a smack of a kiss pressed to your cheek in thanks and maybe that was as good as it was going to get.

And when Steve asked you what was wrong, you shrugged and scuffed the toe of your flour coated sneakers against the old carpet and tried not to sound too mournful when you simply said, “love sucks.”

The boy had snorted and nodded, agreeing whole heartedly before he snapped the sugar cookie in half, splitting the baby pink icing down the middle. Sprinkles scattered everywhere, dancing across the desk and messing up his delivery sheets but Steve didn’t seem to mind. He handed you half, a small smile on his face and when you took it with surprise clearly written across your face, Steve turned as pink as the cookie.

Valentine’s Day came and went with a fanfare of heart shaped balloons and a too big crowd outside of Enzo’s, a replaying of The Princess Bride at the cinema bringing in couples in love, young and old, first dates and forty years married.

You’d resigned yourself to an evening on the couch in front of your TV, maybe with a pizza delivery and some microwave popcorn to soften the blow. It was a complete surprise when you found Steve by your car, his own shop keys still hanging from his pocket, his Family Video vest still on over his t-shirt. He was holding a bunch of flowers, pretty as they were small, the pastel colours of the tulips making up for the quantity. They were wrapped in brown paper, tied with a bow that was a little lopsided and Steve Harrington was positively rose coloured.

“Hi,” he greeted, his voice almost a little too loud in the empty parking lot. He offered you the bouquet, the smell of spring clinging to them. “These are for you.”

You blinked, even though it had been obvious. He was waiting by your car after all. But still, the sight of him and the unprompted gift made your chest feel like goo, an affection as sticky as marshmallow clinging to your insides, coating all the bitter frost that had once wrapped around your heart.

“They are?” You took the flowers, cheeks burning, wondering why the prettiest guy in Hawkins was giving you a gift on Valentine’s Day. You didn’t mean to sound blunt, or ungrateful, but you could help but ask. “Why?”

Steve bit back a smile at your surprise, your wide eyes and plain words. He shrugged, leaning against the hood of your car, looking unfairly handsome even under the orange glow of the street lights. “Pretty girls deserve flowers, right?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, boyish and suddenly shy. “It’s Valentine’s. Maybe I’m hoping you’ll let me be yours.”

—————

The next year Steve bought you more flowers, a bigger bunch, hand picked and wrapped in some newspaper, tied with a red bow that he made Robin help him with. He dropped them into the bakery for you, still pink cheeked even after eleven months of officially being your boyfriend and he didn’t break character when he ordered a heart shaped cookie from you.

You’d rolled your eyes, all affection, his chin resting on the countertop display as he watched you work with big, brown eyes. He gave you your own name, blinking all innocent, grinning when you scoffed but wrote it all the same, swooping letters that made your cheeks burn. He thanked you politely when you handed over the box, your ruby stained fingers meeting his as you took his dollar bills and Steve held onto the cookie for all of six seconds before he gasped like he’d just noticed it was you for the first time.

“You look way too pretty to be workin’ on Valentine’s Day,” he told you smoothly, bringing the flowers to rest under his chin. More tulips, mixed with peonies and some wildflower sprigs. “You got a date for later?”

You laughed at his antics, face burning as Mrs Rochester cooed at the two of you from over her coffee cup. You tried to glare at the boy but it wasn’t much use, not when he was looking at you like that. Like he wanted to never, ever let you go.

“I might,” you told him suggestively. “I’ve had a few offers,” you joked.

“Yeah?” Steve grinned, brows raised. He pushed your cookie back to you, the flowers with it, the bakery suddenly smelling like a meadow. “Can I earn some points in my favour?”

—————

It’s five years later and you’ve got an old shoe box under your bed, the one you share with Steve. It’s got the dried, pressed petals from each bouquet of flowers he gifted you, the ribbon from a cookie box, ticket stubs from your first date to the cinema, a napkin from Enzo’s with a smiley face drawn in eyeliner on the corner.

There’s jewel coloured candy wrappers from the time he brought you sweets when you were sick, a postcard from his first trip away from you, dozens of Polaroids, each one dated.

A keyring, from your first apartment. Plane tickets from your first vacation together, a photobooth roll of film from your third anniversary, a velvet ring box from your fourth. A box filled with memories and keepsakes and gifts, little things that Steve would bring you when you least expected it, all of them cherished, all of them loved.

And when time ticked by and ten years had passed, you found him in your kitchen on Valentine’s morning, your daughter clinging to his knee as he tried his very best to keep a steady hand. The heart shaped cookie he’d baked was a little lopsided, iced with baby pink frosting, the sprinkles he’d let your baby girl take control of were almost taking over the cookie.

But he’d written your name in the center and just like the first Valentine’s Day you’d spent with him - almost accidentally - you split the cookie down the middle and handed half the heart to him

[mrsparrasblog]

You're Losing Me Pt.3 POLY 141 x Reader

TW: angst, mentioned rape, mentioned drug abuse, violence, alcoholism, crying, manipulation

prev part first part. next part

Wrapped around with a blanket, you lay on the couch singing all the breakup songs you know, pathetically. You didn't talk to your friends, called in sick at work, and haven't left the apartment since it happened. The only thing you had was Winston, the Taylor Swift vinyl on repeat that Johnny gifted you, and a cheap red wine that tasted like ass. You ordered some pizza so that something else keeps you company. When the bell rang, you didn't bother to put on a nice outfit. You went out with your tangled hair, your puffy swollen eyes, and Simon's ratty t-shirt that you couldn’t bother to throw away; it just smelled like comfort to you.

You were surprised when you saw, instead of the delivery guy, Kyle in front of your house. He looked so unlike Kyle. He didn't have that cheeky smile you loved, and his clean pretty boy aesthetic was gone. His white shirt was full of blood, his jaw bruised, and your heart broke. That was your man - was.

"Do you want to collect your stuff?" You asked, it hurt you so bad to ask, but you needed to be strong. You didn't want to be like your mom who stayed with your Dad despite how often he cheated on her. You were strong and independent before you met them, you can reach this again.

"Babe, please."

"Don't do this to me, Kyle," don't make me love you, don’t make me forgive you.

"Can I see at least Winston?" He asked, and that was a thing you couldn't deny. It was his dog too after all. You remembered how you rescued him together from a dog shelter. Everyone else would have said no, but Kyle loved animals just as much as you do. So you adopted that corgi, and you can regret many things but not your loyal dog.

"Come in," you said, not bothering to apologize for the mess.

When Winston saw him, he jumped immediately on Kyle, and this made you smile for the first time in days. "What happened to your face?"

"Got in some fights around the base."

"Kyle, you never get into fights with coworkers. Look, just because we're not a thing anymore doesn’t mean you need to sabotage your own life. Things like breakups happen, and I'm sure you will find a lovely girl." Your heart ached just thinking about them with another girl, all sharing and loving how they loved you.

"Don't want anyone else."

"Kyle."

"I mean it, I love you, and not just a bit. I know you're the right one. Tell me what you want, and I'll do it. Want me to quit the military? Easy. Want to punish me? Hurt me? I don’t care. Want to never touch me again? Fine, I'll live my life without sex just to have you. Want me to marry you? Done. Why wait? Do you want me to kill that slag? I'll do it. You don’t understand it; there is no such thing as too much for you. There isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for you."

You were too stunned to speak, but by the look in his eyes, you knew he meant every word of it. He really loved you. But how could you trust him again? And John, you knew Kyle loved John, maybe not as much as you, but you were no one to separate them. That wasn’t fair.

"Let me clean the blood from your nose, Kyle." You stood up, ignoring the things he said, and went to the bathroom, grabbing alcohol and one of Kyle's spare t-shirts, inhaling the scent as you sobbed into it.

"Love—"

"Let me clean you."

He picked you up, sitting you down at the sink, where you slowly cleaned his wounds. Your breath felt heavy every second you got near his lips.

"Tell me you don't love me, and I'll never bother you again."

"Kyle, I can't lie to you."

You cleaned him and gave him his new shirt, but you couldn’t let him leave.

"Kyle, I love you, but I love all of you so much that I can't let you choose between me and John. You love him, I know that, and it's okay. I understand."

"John didn’t cheat on you; it was Johnny."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'd never lie to you. He just knew we couldn’t live without you, and you know how selfless he is."

"I thought he cheated." You started to sob again. "I screamed at him, told him how much I hate him, and he wasn’t at fault." You felt like a monster for your feelings.

"He understands."

"How does he hold up?" You knew John was never someone who shared your feelings.

"Locked himself in the office, drinking for days, doesn’t even speak with me."

"Let me fix this."

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

John thought he was hallucinating when you went into his office with the spare key you had. It was too good to be true to see his angel again, but you weren’t real. He needed to stop drinking.

"I'm so sorry, John," you said over and over again, walking towards him, where you sat in your reserved place, on his lap, and slowly removing the glass out of his help. "I'm sorry, John. I don’t hate you, I’d never hate you."

"Cheated on you, deserve it."

"I know it was Johnny."

"Lie."

"Kyle told me."

"Oh."

"Can you forgive me, John?"

"Of course, lovely," he laled and smiled.

"Let me get you in your room, okay, and sober you up." He nodded, and you brought him to his room. You still weren’t sure what to do. Will you forgive them? Will you forgive Johnny?

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

"Lea mah room, slag," Johnny screamed at the medic. He had enough of her and her manipulative acts, how she went into his room and touched him in training. It was enough.

"Don't be so harsh; I'm your girlfriend, after all," she smiled. She was sick fucking delusional.

"Youre nae mah burd ah tellt ye this often enough," he pressed his hands together, his knuckles white from rage. If he was a worse man, he’d kill her on the spot. But he needed her to make a mistake, so there would be proof of her lying.

"Not so aggressive, Johnny, this isn’t good for our baby."

"Are you mental? There is no fucking baby. You raped me three days ago. Aren’t you supposed to be a medic and know how this shit works?"

"There will be, and then we'll be happy."

"You're sick. This will never happen."

"Oh, there will, or you know I could tell anyone how you raped me and dared to kill me after your girlfriend found out."

"No one will believe you."

"They will."

And there was a knock on the door. He left her in the room, telling her it was probably only a rookie. He was surprised when he saw you. Even though you looked broken, you were still the most precious thing in his life. He wanted to hug you, tell you the truth.

"I know it was you, Johnny," you started to cry you never thought Johnny would do such a thing to you."

"Hen, please."

You hugged him tight, which caught him by surprise, but he held you through it. "Tell me why, Johnny. Please, let me know what I did to deserve this." His heart broke with every word you said. He desperately wanted to explain to you that you could never do anything wrong in his life, but the shame ate him up. Would you understand? Would you believe him?

"Tell me you won't do it again, Johnny. Tell me you regret it, that it didn't mean a thing. I'll forgive you, please, Johnny."

"Look, hen—" But before he could finish his sentence, the medic left the room wearing only one of his shirts.

"What are you doing here? I thought you’d broken up with that bore."

You noticed the shirt, the ruffled hair, and the bracelet you gifted Johnny that she wore. "Johnny, why is she wearing your shirt? Why does she have my bracelet?"

"Love, don't believe—"

"Oh, you're not only a bore, you're also dense, aren't you?"

That was enough to finally break you. You walked away, screaming at Johnny that he should leave you alone, running into Simon on your way out.

"Luv?"

"Stay away from me, Si," and he respected your wish, giving you the time to heal you need. He finally found Johnny in a screaming match with the medic. When she saw him, she gave Johnny a peck on his cheek and left with a sly smile.

Johnny was never a man to cry until that day. He didn't know how his life went so downhill in a few days.

"Johnny?"

"Go away, Lt."

"Johnny, tell me what's wrong."

"You wouldn't believe me. No one would."

"Let me decide that. Let's get you in your room and talk." His heart broke seeing Johnny like that, and he knew whatever it was, he would fix it for him.

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 1

Masterlist taglist

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation.

Alphas are dying out and rare. It was dangerous to be an Alpha nowadays. You could be taken and never seen again at any moment by Alpha slave traders.

I sighed heavily as the song playing through my earbuds was once again interrupted with the sound of my ringtone. I glanced at the screen to see yet another out of country number. The fifth one today. I blocked it as soon as it stopped ringing.

No one I knew was outside of the country and I wasn’t interested in donating any money to a Nigerian prince down on his luck.

The music blared again, and I got back to work, attempting to get back into that nice zone I had found earlier. Before it was so rudely interrupted by spammers.

So when, a couple minutes later, my phone went off with my text notification, I was totally justified at the string of curses that left my lips.

There, hopefully that ends that. I don’t know how my number got leaked over-freaking-seas, but I’m sick of dealing with it.

And then I blocked the jerk as promised. Just to be on the safe side I screen shotted the whole exchange as well. You could never be too careful with assholes.

Assholes trying to use my subgender against me. I have been very careful with my suppressants. No one left alive knows what my true subgender is-and I am keeping it that way.

For the next day, my phone was blissfully free of any out of the country calls or texts. My threat must have worked. Or the spammers decided I wasn’t worth the hassle. Either way I win. It was peaceful.

Then my doorbell rang early in the evening.

I quickly ran to the bedroom to find something to put on since I was only in an old t shirt and panties. My hamper was closest to the door, I grabbed the first thing and pulled them on, then jogged to open the door, fully expecting it to be another pizza delivery coming to the wrong address.

I was wrong. Boy was I wrong. I opened the door in 3-day old unwashed hair, ratty stained t shirt, and my dirty pair of eggplant print boxers I used to lounge around in, to find a small group of people.

I was shocked. Gob smacked even! I recognized 2 of them immediately, and my entire body froze, mouth hanging open.

“I told you I needed your help.” JYP stated slapping his thigh and pursing his lips.

The JYP was standing in front of my door. Not just him either. No. Bang freaking Chan was also there. Both were lightly disguised with hats and hoods. And I was in ratty, dirty lounge clothes.

In a ridiculous moment of panic, I slammed the door shut with a squeak I didn’t know I was capable of making.

On the other side of the door there was a chuckle, then a knock. I stood frozen, not comprehending what was currently happening.

“L/n, I just want to talk.” JYP spoke through the door, voice muffled but understandable.

As the seconds passed there was more, unintelligible talking, then my door handle turned.

“L/n, I’m coming in. It’s just two of us now. I really only want to talk.” JYP called through the slowly opening door.

I let the door open without moving, watching with wide eyes and shallow breath as JYP and BangChan stepped into my apartment.

BangChan, adorable loser that he is, awkwardly waggled his fingers in a wave, hunched forward slightly. I automatically lifted my hand in a return wave.

“Shoes off.” I breathed attempting to get my brain and body working again. It was easier said than done, but you know what they say. Fake it until you make it.

JYP knew me, apparently. And apparently knew my grandparents according to his texts before I blocked him. He knew me. He knew my name. My address. My…fuck! My subgender. That’s what this was all about.

I sighed, all at once losing every ounce off starstruck shock as I came to this conclusion. I turned and sat on my chair, leaving the couch for them. JYP is persistent, I had no choice but to listen to his plea at this point.

It was odd to see such powerful men in socks for some reason. As they passed to sit, I caught BangChans scent and shivered, goosebumps forming on my arms. He smelled like sand and a pine forest, and it hit me in all the right Alpha spots.

Omegas aren’t common, but they aren’t uncommon either. I had smelled them before, plenty of times. But none had my whole being react like BangChans scent did. It was probably because I am such a fan.

“Are you sure? She smells like Beta.” BangChan asked JYP as they got comfortable. He spoke in Korean, probably thinking I didn’t understand it.

“She understands you. L/n, probably speaks Korean more fluently than you do. And yes, I’m sure.” JYP warned him with a smile.

“My grandparents have both been dead since I was a child, so how do you know so much about me?” I asked. More like demanded but who’s going to call me out on it?

JYP shrugged. “My mother always kept tabs on you. Said you were worth looking after. When she passed, I picked it up.”

“But why?”

“To make sure you were okay. Your grandparents and my parents were very close.”

“Wouldn’t know. They didn’t talk about that kind of stuff with me. It was all lessons on my heritage and ancestry. Culture, language, and traditions.” It was always a lesson with them. Always insistent I knew where I came from, who I came from. I hated it then, but as I grew older, I started to appreciate it. Especially when my parents died, and I was left all alone. The knowledge wasn’t lost.

“We met a couple of times, but you were too young to remember.”

Enough reminiscing. “What did you want from me? It’s obviously to use me as an Alpha.”

BangChan grimaced and I suspected I knew where this was going, but I hoped I was wrong.

JYP nodded. “You know the Korean laws on idol Omegas?”

Did I? It was all STAY could talk about. All Omega idols must be bonded to an Alpha within 6 years of their official debut. Stray Kids was rapidly coming up on that deadline with no bonding Alpha in sight. STAY worried they would be forced to disband. Stray Kids had been on hiatus to focus solely on finding their Alpha. There were only a couple weeks left.

It was exactly as I feared. “Surely you can find several more qualified Alphas.” I argued.

To most Alpha STAYs, being asked to attempt to bond Stray Kids would be a dream come true. Especially since it would mean a higher level of safety. It was dangerous for an Alpha now.

Generations ago, the 3 subgenders were more equal in population. But now? Now Alphas are almost endangered. Most were Betas, but there was a nice number of Omegas too. Too many Omegas and not enough Alphas. And people were desperate to create more Alphas.

A lot of Omegas were able to settle comfortably with a Beta, but any pregnancy would only produce Betas. An Alpha parent was required to have another Alpha.

So there came an Alpha slave trade. Alphas would be taken, sold, used, and abused until they died. Forced to impregnate countless paying Omegas in the hopes of creating more Alphas.

When I found out I was Alpha I immediately started on the strongest suppressants I could find. They hid my scent and made me appear Beta. Keeping me safe. I never missed a dose. I was terrified too.

JYP shook his head. “I’m sure you heard we have been trying to find Stray Kids an Alpha full time for months now. I’ve lost count of how many we tried. None could bond.” He began before glancing over at BangChan. “The Stray Kids bond with each other is so strong that there will only be one Alpha for all 8 of them. We just need to find an Alpha that can bond. We’ve tried everything.”

“That’s why you brought him. All that keeping tabs on me, and you didn’t know I take suppressants? No one knows I’m Alpha.” I gestured to BangChan vaguely.

“I brought him because I know you are a fan. I hoped he would help convince you.”

Sly. Sneaky. Underhanded. But he caught my attention, so I guess it worked. Not that I would ever tell him that.

“It didn’t work. I’m not interested. BangChan it was amazing to have you in my living room.” I stood and held an arm out to the door, gesturing them out politely. “Have a nice night and good luck in your search.”

BangChan stood, but JYP didn’t. “I know you’re reluctant to reveal your subgender. I understand-I really do. If I had any other options I wouldn’t have risked coming here and outing, you.”

I stood my ground. Someone as big and powerful as JYP would figure something out. People like him always did. Always came out on top. Annoying fuckers.

AS the seconds ticked by, no one budged. Finally, BangChan shifted forward slightly. “Miss L/n, I know this is a lot. We are asking you to risk a lot.” I sighed and turned to him. “JYP isn’t exaggerating. We have tried 52 Alphas from all over the world over the years and another 15 since we have been on hiatus. We have truly exhausted every option.”

I felt for him. I really did. This law is one of the few that really affect the idol industry that fans absolutely hate. Countless idols petition their government to change the law without success.

“What makes you think I’ll turn out any different than the others?”

BangChan shrugged. “Gut feeling?”

I blinked. Then blinked again. “Gut feeling? You want me to risk my live for a gut feeling?”

“Come meet the others. Stop the suppressants temporarily. A week. We will do everything we can to make sure no one outside of us finds out your subgender. Please.”

It was probably the adoration I had for him, but I could see the separation in his eyes. The fear of being turned down. Of rejection.

Closing my eyes and rubbing my nose, I felt my resolve crumbling. I would feel horrible if I turned him down and my favorite group had to disband. Now knowing if I could have prevented it.

Since I never took it, I had plenty of vacation time saved up. Even on this short of notice my boss would be cool with it.

Plus, BangChan promised to keep my subgender a secret. Well, try as best as he could. Most likely I wouldn’t be able to bond, just like all the others. Then I could move on with my life guilt free and die happy knowing I met and lived with Stray Kids for a week.

“1 week. My subgender remains secret.” I relented.

BangChans chemo signals filled the air with excitement and hope. And just a touch of relief.

I looked at JYP, who was visibly relieved. “By the way, if you really wanted to use Stray Kids to sway me, you should have brought my bias.”

JYP barked a laugh.

“Wait. I’m not your bias?” BangChan asked.

“Nope.” I shook my head while typing an email to my boss on my phone.

“Who is your bias?”

Satisfied with my draft I hit send. “Not telling.”

“Oh, come on! Is it Felix?”

“When does the plane take off?” I ignored BangChans guess. It was wrong anyway.

JYP checked his watch, then phone.

“Han? Everyone loves Quokka.” BangChan kept guessing and I kept ignoring.

“3 hours ish.” JYP finally answered.

Good I had a little time to pack a bag and gather stuff I would need. I nodded and slipped past BangChan to start packing. And also, to get into more suitable clothes. Unfortunately, BangChan followed me into my bedroom.

“Lee Know?”

“Bang, give up, hm? I’m not telling.”

Taglist: @xxeiraxx

[the-duchess-of-domination]

Pizza Delivery Boy

i’ve always loved classic porn tropes with a feedism twist.

imagine ordering five pizzas for delivery—a margarita, a Hawaiian, a pepperoni, a sausage and bacon, and a cheese. its late into the evening and your trap has been set. you wait patiently to strike.

within 30 minutes you hear a knock at your door. you open it, and standing before you on the welcome mat is a pudgy twenty-something wearing a backwards hat and a tight t-shirt donning the logo of your local pizza joint. he’s balancing all five pizzas in his arms, and he seems hasty to dump them onto you and get his tip.

“thank you,” you say, taking the pizzas. “i can’t believe nobody showed. what am i going to do with all this pizza?”

though apathetic and moody, he asks what you mean.

“i was supposed to be having a party tonight so i ordered all this pizza. nobody showed, so now i’m stuck with it. i hardly have any room in my fridge!”

he doesn’t take this bait, and instead tells you the total. you pull out your wallet and give him two twenties. while he’s calculating the change, you have a suggestion.

“hey, tell you what. do you want some of this pizza? i’d hate to see it go to waste.”

he shakes his head. “thanks but no thanks. im sick of pizza.”

“how could anyone be sick of pizza?”

“i eat it on my breaks. i go home smelling like pizza. i get dough under my fingernails. it’s lost its appeal.”

“oh…i see. well, if you change your mind…”

he drops the change into your open palm, pondering. it’s a slow night after all, and admittedly he’s feeling a little peckish. someone called off, forcing him to work twice as hard. maybe eating something isn’t such a bad idea.

reluctantly, he takes you up on your offer. once he’s entered the threshold you invite him to make himself comfortable and have as much pizza as he likes. he rolls his eyes a little at your incessant kindness. some people are just too nice. he peeks into the boxes on the counter to see what he wants. he decides that pepperoni sounds the most appealing.

the cheese pull is sublime. the pepperoni is curled and crispy. there’s just enough sauce. for whatever reason, it’s hitting the spot. he decides another slice couldn’t hurt.

as he’s grubbing, you drag a chair to the center of the kitchen.

“sit down if you like. im sure you’re exhausted.”

he nods. doing deliveries and making the pizzas has given him weak Bambi legs and quite the appetite. he takes a load off and opens the box of Hawaiian.

“a lot of people don’t like Hawaiian.” you say. “what are your thoughts? do you think fruit belongs on pizza?”

he shrugs. “i dunno. it’s my favorite, but i guess it’s weird when you think of it that way.”

he gobbles the slice and wipes his greasy fingers down his pant leg. he looks like he’s about to get up, but you stop him.

“well, i for one don’t like Hawaiian at all. you should have some more, since it’s your favorite. here—“ you round the counter and give him the entire box. “go ahead. it’s all yours.”

score, he thinks. he is warming up to your hospitality. he downs three more slices before deciding he is on the verge of uncomfortably full.

“what’s the matter? not hungry?” you ask.

“uhm. starting to get full. y’know i should head out, my boss is going to wonder where i am—“

“nonsense, you just need a little help—here, why don’t i feed it to you?”

you pick up a piece of Hawaiian. you hover it in front of his mouth. he looks stunned.

“what?”

“go on then. i can’t eat all this by myself.”

looking unsure of himself, he bites into the slice you’re offering. you gently coax the entire slice into his mouth.

“there you go. you don’t even need to use your hands. tell you what, why don’t i tie those up for you?”

you ambush him and bind his arms behind his back. his feet come next.

“comfortable?” you muse.

he squirms in the chair. “hey! what’s going on?”

“don’t worry. just relax.” you open the box of Hawaiian. “you’ve still got four slices here. open wide!”

you stuff his cheeks full of pineapple and ham. his cheeks are so full his groans are muffled

“good, isn’t it?” he thrashes and turns his head away when you hover another slice in front of him. “now, that’s no way to treat your host. keep still.”

you force him to finish the Hawaiian pizza. by the end he’s left panting, his already tight shirt riding up his pale belly.

“ohh, no more!” he begs. “i can’t take anymore. my belly hurts.”

you smile and laugh. “well, what next? margarita or sausage and bacon?”

looks like he’s going to have to call into work tomorrow.

[kyojurismo]

★ — deliveries !

character : katsuki bakugo

summary : who knew the delivery man was such a cute guy who also happened to be interested in you?

tags : normal au, fem!reader, 2k words, aged-up characters, mention of toxic boyfriend, pining i guess? fluff, not proofread of course bc i’m a coward.

notes : hello !! i’m so happy i was able to write a one shot for this concept, i’m truly excited to share it w the public and i hope it is alright and that it makes sense ^_^ i love soft katsuki so yeah. have fun reading this piece and thank you as always for taking the time to stop & check my works out <3

special tag : @doumadono ♡

“please, just this once!” eijiro begged his friend. “go to hell,” katsuki sounded very decisive about it. his friend was trying to set him up with someone once again, failing of course. “plus, i’m busy with work,” he added in a gruff tone. he finished putting his jacket on and sighed, noticing it was time to go to work. “that’s just an excuse, you finish working around 9,” denki received a glare as an answer and that was enough to shut him up.

working as a delivery man was a pain in the ass sometimes, the majority of people he met were all shitty customers who always complained about him being late and stuff like that, but in reality, katsuki was very dedicated anyway and delivered everything with care, as quickly as possible.

that’s basically how he found himself standing outside your apartment door. he huffed when after his third time knocking no one was coming to open the door.

katsuki was able to hear a loud voice before the door finally opened. there was a boy standing in front of him, visibly annoyed.

“how much?” he spat, already opening his wallet. “hah, sorry man. i have to delivery this to…” katsuki then glanced down at the name on the post it, calling out your name. “fine. i’m not paying for any of this shit anyway. [y/n]!” he muttered before barking out your name, making bakugo cringe at his manners.

you rushed to the door, trying to fix the t-shirt you just finished putting on. your cheeks were warmer since you felt a hint of embarrassment because of your boyfriend’s behaviour.

“hi, sorry. how much is it?” you asked in a much gentle and softer tone, offering katsuki a smile. he found himself staring at your face for a couple of seconds more, admiring your features before he blushed and looked down, trying to hide his red face. “it’s uh, 10$,” he said, glancing at your hands moving to retrieve the money. “right… here!” you payed and took the small bag and pizza from his hands, his eyes unable to leave your face.

“um, enjoy your meal,” katsuki said then, nodding at you. “thank you so much,” you smiled at him sweetly before closing the door.

the fuck just happened?

─────────────────────

your sweet smile and your eyes never left bakugo’s head. he found himself still thinking about you, and a part of him hoped he would have the possibility to deliver you something else in the near future.

the rational part of him knew that you had a boyfriend — a shitty one, if he were honest, but the egoistic part of him hoped you would break up, he was a douche anyway, right?

that wasn’t the point anyway, as long as he was able to see you that would do. for now.

his inner desire to see you again was easily satisfied around two weeks later.

he cleared his throat and knocked on your door, a strange feeling of excitement filling his guts as he waited for you to open the door.

when you finally showed up, you were wearing a sweater and a pair of shorts. he gulped down and tried to focus on only your words, as if ignoring your face would be possible.

“oh um, you’re the guy from the last time… thank you for your quick service,” your words caused his heart to flutter while katsuki quietly stared at you. “10$,” he spat, before cringing in his mind. “okay…” you rummaged through your wallet and then payed, retrieving your food from his hands.

in that moment your soft skin touched that of katsuki, who felt as if electricity just travelled through his body. his mind going blank for a moment before he realised you were talking.

“s-sorry, what was that?” he definitely blushed now and you found it adorable. “i said thank you, bakugo-san,” you pointed at the small name tag attached to his jacket on the front, making him nod then. “no problem, enjoy your meal,” he said as he always does after delivering the food. his eyes lingered on your sweet face for a moment longer before he turned around to walk away, embarrassed enough.

you chuckled while closing the door, finding bakugo adorable for some reason.

─────────────────────

you saw bakugo again, and again, and again. you always tried to make small conversations, like speaking about how it was freezing outside and he was out there working anyway for example. but bakugo always kept his words short, probably because he was busy and didn’t have the time to stay outside your door to talk.

a part of bakugo wanted to push him to ask for your number or something, but another suggested that you were just kind because he was a delivery man, delivering the food you ordered — it was the least you could do, right?

on the other hand, you found him attractive and surprisingly he didn’t seem like a jerk. you recently broke up with your now ex boyfriend, convinced by your friends that he was too toxic and that it would only become harder and harder to get out of his grasp.

after a month of trying to avoid calling and getting your food delivered, as you tried to forget bakugo and focus on your life, you found yourself putting down the phone after placing a new order. you sighed and glanced at your friends sitting on your couch, chatting lively.

“you held back from calling because you were trying to avoid the delivery man?” momo glanced at you, more in a surprising way. mina was clearly judging you though. “no, it’s just that i tried to spend less on delivered food,” you casually shrugged, avoiding their eyes. “alright, but what if he’s still working there? like, would you say something more or just pay and say bye?” kyoka asked then, making your heart skip a beat.

“w-what?! of course i would simply do that,” you felt your cheeks warming up and momo chuckled, seeing through you. “you don’t have to feel bad about finding another man interesting, y’know? it’s not cheating or anything,” she said then, her voice was soft and soothing. “momo’s right! plus, no one said you have to marry this delivery man,” mina patted your shoulder in encouragement.

your friends were right, you shouldn’t feel bad.

“i wanna see him though, can i open the door?” kyoka begged, making everyone laugh. “of course you can’t,” momo said between laughters.

you were interrupted by the doorbell and you literally jumped on your feet, an anxious feeling growing in your chest. mina noticed and pushed your wallet into your hands before rushing you to open the door.

you took a deep breath and opened it, preparing yourself to meet bakugo’s face. your growing smile suddenly fell when you met a redhead boy standing outside your door.

“oh, hello! you’re [y/n], right?” he asked in a cheerful tone, smiling. “y-yeah,” you nodded, a bit taken aback.

did bakugo really stopped working there?

“alright, then these are yours!” kirishima smiled even more. “it’s 16$, miss,” he informed you and you nodded. you gave him the money and took the pizzas from his hands, thanking him with a smile. “enjoy your meal!” kirishima waved at you before turning to leave.

“uh, wait!” you called for him, biting your lips. “is um… bakugo-san still working there?” you found the courage to ask him, pushing the feeling of embarrassment aside. “oh, kacchan? yeah! but he caught a cold, so i offered to cover him at work. a common friend owns the place, so…” he explained with a genuine smile, as a sense of relief filled your chest, your heart beating fast. “right, i see. thank you,” you smiled at the redhead, he nodded and then waved at you.

your friends heard the whole conversation and started cheering you on, promising that you would be able to see him again very soon. they also convinced you to call again in a couple of days and hope you would see this bakugo guy again.

─────────────────────

you were sitting on the couch while fidgeting with your fingers, an anxious feeling growing in your belly as you waited for your dinner to arrive. well, more like for bakugo to arrive.

you felt stupid for a moment, you were a grown up not a teenager anymore. why were you acting like a middle schooler who has to meet her crush? that’s very, very stupid of you.

what if he doesn’t like you at all?

you jumped in your seat as you heard the doorbell and basically rushed to the door to open it, almost tripping over you feet.

there he was.

bakugo turned his head to look at you and noticed how nervous you were. “h-hello,” you gripped the doorknob tightly as you swiftly checked him out, before meeting his vermilion eyes. “is everything alright?” katsuki found himself asking, tilting his head to the side as to study you. “yeah, no. i mean, yes!” you covered your face with your hands, sighing deeply as you felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest and run away to hide. you should be the one hiding somewhere in shame.

katsuki smirked and pulled his hat lower, trying to cover the growing blush on his face. he thought you looked cute, all flustered for some reason.

“so… the usual,” he said then, gulping down. he was here to deliver you a pizza after all, not to make conversations. “uhh,” you tapped your pockets for the wallet and a fresh sense of embarrassment filled you as you realised you forgotten the wallet in the kitchen. “w-wait, okay… i’ll be right back,” you glanced at his face and then turned around, running to the kitchen.

katsuki took a deep breath and bit his lip, trying to muster some courage to ask if you wanted to go out with him sometime.

you gripped the wallet in your hands and closed your eyes, praying to stop being clumsy and embarrassing and actually succeeding in asking him for his number. you then quickly went back to the door and cleared your throat.

katsuki watched closely your every action, as his heart started beating faster and faster as the moment to leave approached.

it’s now or never.

“listen, i think that–” “can we exchange ph–”

you two stopped talking and simply stared at each other for a couple of seconds before averting your eyes, your cheeks growing hot as katsuki’s whole face turned red. katsuki mentally kicked himself and then cleared his throat.

“what was it you were tryin’ to ask?” his eyes searched for yours, even though you were too busy staring at your feet. “i thought maybe… we can exchange uh, phone numbers?” you asked timidly as your fingers tortured your old wallet due to your nervousness.

bakugo fought himself from reaching for them and stop you and simply nodded, feeling a sense of relief. “yeah, sure,” he offered you his phone and watched you saving your own contact and send yourself a message.

“alright, here’s your dinner,” he said as he retrieved his phone with a hand and giving you the pizza with the other. you nodded and then handed him the money too.

“thank you as always for your service. please take care, it’s pretty windy outside,” you timidly said, holding his gaze for a couple of seconds before looking away again. bakugo blushed and cleared his throat before nodding. “ah, ri– thanks, enjoy your meal.”

you closed the door and pushed out all the air in your lungs, as you could finally relax. you walked over the kitchen before realising he was about to say something too, but you didn’t asked to continue too.

a notification from your phone caught your attention and you reached for it, opening the messages app.

how abt friday at 7 pm ?

you smiled as you looked down at the message, feeling a warm feeling filling your body. your fingers moved quickly over the screen to type out your reply to bakugo’s message.

sounds good !

[overstuffd]

mmmm thinkling about being a hacker who sees a perfect target while tapping through unsecured webcams one day.

cute, curvy, a small belly peeking out from under her shirt. she doesn't know anyone's watching as she idly snacks on the open bag of chips on her desk. I decide to see how little prodding it takes for her to give in to indulging her every whim.

i start off by subtly influencing her social media feeds. delicious food and porn, side by side and one right after the other. she might notice something seems different, but the porn is welcome considering the selection of toys i had amazon 'misdeliver' to her house have been getting a lot of use.

once she's started associating her newly increased orgasm rate with food, it's time to start upping the portions. she gets her groceries delivered, so it's easy to make a few substitutions and editions. Extra-thick, honey sweetened yoghurt instead of her normal low fat brand. Her favourite diet soda was 'sold out' but luckily she's well stocked in the full sugar version.

she's sure she didn't add these bags of chips to the order, or this box of donuts, but the delivery guy shrugs and says they're free so it would be silly to throw them out.

i make sure the first thing she sees when she turns on her phone in the morning is something to turn her on and something to get her stomach rumbling. hot pancakes, oozing syrup. a plate stacked with greasy bacon and eggs with a mountain of fried potatoes. some upscale bakery showing off their latest cream stuffed pastries.

at this point i'll be tracking every like, every video she lingers on just a bit too long to know exactly what she'll be unable to resist. and it's such a coincidence that a coupon for that exact bakery appeared in her inbox just as she was looking at them. it's such a good deal, and it expires today, so it would be a shame not try all of the ones she's had her eye on.

doubling her order as it comes through is a simple, explainable glitch. still, most of these pastries won't be good tomorrow, so she might as well try all of them, it's not like she has to finish them all.

later that night, as she goes back to the fridge for the fourth time, she scoops the last blob of frosting up with a scrap of pastry and sighs. she's definitely getting a little softer around the middle, but she can't worry about that now - she's just found out she's lost her job by email. she's so lucky though, because later that day she gets offered a spot on a medical weed trial she can't even remember applying for. a few well placed changes on my part and she's getting paid to smoke up every day at home, fresh flower and vape carts carefully delivered every week.

the 'study' pays well, so why shouldn't she get most of her food delivered? she's too stoned to move most of the day anyway, and she has such good luck with ordering in lately, every restaurant seems to be throwing in free extra desserts and appetisers every time she orders.

that night, her large meat feast pizza (already more than she used to order) comes with garlic bread, wings, curly fries, soda and icecream and fist sized tubs of creamy sauces. you try and ask the delivery boy a question but he mumbles something about a promotion, and what, is she going to say no to free food?

as she sits down, she barely notices as i set the youtube on her tv to start a playlist of cute girls trying different fast food places, giggling as they took huge bites of rich, calorific foods.

the strain i picked out for her has already got her hungry and horny, so she flops down on the couch in her sweatpants and t-shirt. this shirt used to be loose on her, but it's definitely stretching tighter across her tits and slightly bulging stomach. she barely notices though, grabbing a slice of pizza and chugging soda straight from the bottle as her already hazy mind gets softer. she doesn't realise she's finishing what should be a meal for a family of four until most of it's gone.

her stomach feels uncomfortably tight, straining against the waistband of her now-tight sweatpants. she pulls the band down and her stomach springs out, angry red marks showing where it had bitten into her soft flesh.

my conditioning has been working, and she doesn't know why, but the feeling of her being so stuffed makes her pussy ache, and she slides a hand into her pants to find herself dripping wet. she starts playing with herself as she finishes the lst slice of pizza, forces a few more fries into her heavy gut. the more she eats, the better her fingers feel on her clit, her flabby brain well trained at this point to associate food with sex, being stuffed full with cumming what was left of her brains out.

she's on the edge now, but she's finished the food and even though her stomach is straining and sensitive she can't make herself finish without something to eat at the same time.

she's lucky she forgot to put the icecream in the freezer. she pulls the melted tub towards herself, too pinned under the weight of her bloated stomach to even lean over for it. the thick mix of cream, sugar, chocolate and caramel pour down her throat as she slowly begins to chug the mixture. her free hand is back between her legs, frantically fucking her needy pussy as her belly stretches beyond what she thought she handle. as the last of the icecream drips down her throat she cums, harder than she thinks she's ever come before.

she slumps back, too happy to care that she's surrounded by greasy pizza boxes and that there's melted icream smeared across her tits.

watching through her webcam, i'm already planning all the fun deliveries she's going to be getting in the next fes days.

[verdemoun]

i’m a bit behind on the timewarp au, so i’m sorry if someone’s already asked this! buuttt… how did everyones sense of fashion change in modern day?

me, sitting here in my decade's old hoodie and pikachu pajama shorts: yes, fashion

Hosea is a v subservient husband who wears anything his wife gets him. Sometimes he's the high fashion old man with the tailors pants and crisp shirt under a blazer. Sometimes it's the rattiest home-made sweater with dropped stitches that somehow matches his $4 slippers and he just looks even older than he is but so snug.

Arthur wears nothing but jeans and t-shirts with the occasional jacket unless someone else picks out clothes for him. He still wears cowboy boots.

Sean and Lenny are all walmart/shein/temu horrid patterns cheap clothing boys. The closest Sean gets to fashion is his pizza delivery uniform. Lenny learns a little bit about fashion by googling 'college outfits for men'.

Charles lives in heavy-duty trade jeans and plaid flannels. Flannel shirt. Too cold for flannel shirt? Black shirt under flannel jacket. Carries high-vis in his truck. Lumberjack core.

Kieran exclusively wears hoodies. Admittedly some are 'nice' hoodies but then comes the impossible challenge of finding pants he will willing wear. He needs to be warned if he's expected to leave the house 2 days in advance to do washing.

Javier lives for the concept of fashion and just looks like an instagram model at all times. Just a diva. It isn't until he shows up and corrects the 1899's gang sense of fashion they actually look decent.

John and Jack both fall in love with emo. Leather jackets, black jeans, chokers. Abigail spends so much on anti-fade laundry detergent.

Abigail and Karen end up with very similar fashion styles. The occasional summer dress but mostly pants, nice shirts - functional clothes for chasing around their demonic little girls. Abigail is a cardigan queen.

Grimshaw would burn her dresses if she could. She discovered the luxury of pants and never looked back. Still rocks a corset though. Anyone brave enough to catcall her is getting tased, pepper-sprayed or shot depending on her mood.

When Dutch isn't in the hospital he still wears basically just his canon era vests, buttoned shirts and fitted pants - in the hospital it's psych-ward issues jammies for him.

Molly looks like a cottage-core queen and has the rolling to pack it up.

[all-the-things-2020]

No Better Place - Chapter 16

Summary: Cassidy helps Javi settle in to his new apartment.

Warnings: explicit sex

Word count: 3400

When Cassidy woke up, Javi called for a pizza. He got dressed but Cassidy simply pulled on the t-shirt he’d been wearing earlier in the day. It was long enough to cover her ass, but just barely, and as she walked around the apartment, he kept getting glimpses of things he really didn’t want a stranger to see. “Promise me you’ll go back in the bedroom when the pizza guy gets here,” he said.

She laughed and sprawled out on the couch, the shirt riding up to show her bare hip. “Afraid I’ll embarrass you?,” she asked.

“Afraid he’ll try to fight me for you,” Javi replied. He pointed at her. “No one gets to see that but me.”

She laughed again, but when the doorbell rang, she disappeared into the bedroom. Javi paid for the pizza and tipped the delivery boy well, since he was in a good mood. He called Cassidy back out while he sat the pizza on the table and pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge. Chucho’s housewarming present had been a six-pack of Javi’s favorite brew.

He was hungry, but it was hard to concentrate on his pizza with Cassidy sitting across from him wearing only his discarded shirt. Her hair was loose and disheveled in an extremely sexy way.

“What?,” she said, her mouth full of pepperoni.

“You just look hot,” he said, taking a sip of beer.

She looked puzzled. “I didn’t know eating pizza with bed head was a sexy look,” she said.

“Well, most people couldn’t pull it off, but you do,” Javi conceded.

Cassidy sat her slice of pizza down on a napkin and slid out of her seat. She straddled his lap and kissed him. “Kind of a weird compliment, but I’ll take it,” she said before she kissed him again. She ground herself against his crotch and he grunted as his jeans grew tight. “You know, your dad said I should make sure you always think of me when you get into bed at night,” she went on. “Maybe I should make sure you think of me when you sit at the table, too.”

Javi laughed against her lips. “Finish your pizza first,” he growled. “And go get a condom before you start anything.”

She rolled her hips against him one last time before sliding off his lap and going back to her seat. She maintained eye contact with him while she ate her pizza in an exaggerated manner, licking her lips and biting at the lower one while fluttering her eyelashes at him. It was all Javi could do not to burst out laughing, and he almost choked on his beer when she wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb in a comically seductive way.

“Too much?” she asked before she succumbed to a fit of giggles.

When she’d finished her pizza, she sashayed into the bedroom and came back with a condom packet, which she tossed on the table in front of him. Javi took his time finishing his slice of pizza, just to mess with her. She sat patiently until he deliberately patted his lips with a napkin and sat back with a small sigh. “Do with me what you will,” he said.

She grinned and climbed back onto his lap. He put his hands on her hips to keep her steady as she kissed him deeply. “Thank goodness I didn’t get onions on the pizza,” Javi murmured when she came up for breath.

“Shut up,” Cassidy said with a laugh. She kissed him again, one hand dipping down to unfasten his jeans. She took her time, teasing him with her fingers and her tongue, until he was squirming.

“Get up,” he said. She stood up and he wiggled his jeans down to his ankles. He hadn’t bothered to put on shorts and as soon as his pants were past his hips, his dick sprang up, ready for action.

Cassidy chuckled deep in her throat and picked up the condom packet. As she resettled herself in his lap, she tore the foil and pulled out the condom. Once she’d unrolled it over his shaft, she carefully positioned herself and then slid slowly down on him, taking him inch by inch until her hips were flush with his.

Javi cupped one hand under her ass so hold her in place and placed the other at the back of her head so he could pull her close and kiss her senseless. She moved slowly against him, a slow roll of her hips that drove him mad. “You’re a terrible tease,” he muttered in her ear before he nibbled on the lobe.

“Maybe I want to keep you inside me as long as possible,” she breathed back. Still, she started moving faster and soon Javi had to put both hands on her hips to keep her firmly on his lap as they rocked back and forth in the chair, which began to creak alarmingly as their pace quickened.

“If we break this chair and I lose my security deposit …,” Javi gasped. Cassidy just laughed and laid her mouth over his, kissing him so hard he lost the ability to speak for a moment. Then he lost all control and thrust into her harder and harder until he came with a shudder and a groan.

“You good?” he managed to get out once he’d come down from his high. Cassidy was still grinding against him.

“Almost there,” she muttered. He slid one hand down between them and it didn’t take long for her to clench around him, her head thrown back as she moaned his name. When she slumped against his chest, he carefully lifted her off his dick and peeled off the condom, which he tossed onto the table with the rest of the trash.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely never forget that,” Javi whispered in her ear.

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

Cassidy lay awake, listening to Javi snoring softly beside her. After her nap that afternoon, she wasn’t all that tired, and her mind was too busy racing to let her relax anyway. She might have gone overboard with the sex, but it had been easier to fuck Javi than talk to him. They had one more day and one more night together and then she would be on her way back to Laredo and despite all of Javi’s promises she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the end of their relationship.

She wasn’t naive. Once Javi started his new job, he would have work projects and colleagues to fill his days and thoughts. He would meet his neighbors, find new favorite restaurants and hangouts, maybe flirt a little with the clerk at the grocery store out of boredom. And the drive to Laredo would seem longer and longer, and less and less rewarding as time went by, until he stopped coming altogether except for holidays when he felt obligated to visit his father.

It was possible that things would work out, that he would faithfully drive home each week, that the bond between them would only strengthen, not break, with distance, but she wasn’t going to hold her breath. Just enjoy this weekend, she told herself. Pretend it’s real. Pretend this is your life. But she knew that soon enough, she’d be back in Laredo, shoveling manure and repairing tack that was hanging by a thread and checking her bank balance to make sure she could afford hay for the month. It was her life, the life she’d chosen, and she’d never begrudged a moment or a penny spent on her horses, but it was hard having to choose between her passion and her love for Javi.

She sighed and curled up against Javi, her head on his shoulder. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake. She lay quietly, breathing in his scent, waiting for sleep to claim her, if it wanted to. If not, she’d just enjoy being here beside him.

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

Javi walked to the donut shop a block away for coffee and some crullers for breakfast. It was a nice neighborhood, with healthy trees growing at intervals along the sidewalk and birds chirping among the leaves. The guy at the donut shop had thrown in a bonus cake donut when he found out Javi had just moved in, and the coffee smelled freshly brewed.

Cassidy looked tired as she sipped her coffee and nibbled at a cruller, but Javi felt pretty good. He’d slept quite well after the exertions of the afternoon and evening before. “You can stay here while I go to get the car if you want,” he suggested as she suppressed yet another yawn.

“No, I’ll go with you,” she said. “I want to spend as much time with you as possible.” She smiled and kicked his ankle gently. The toe of her boot slid under the hem of his jeans and rubbed at his shin.

Montauk called around nine-thirty and by the time Javi had taken out the trash and Cassidy had wiped the cruller crumbs off the table, there was a knock at the door.

“Good morning!,” Montauk said heartily as Javi opened the door. “Ready to go?” He was a stout, balding redhead with the flushed complexion of a fair-skinned man doomed to live somewhere that got incredibly hot in the summer. He caught sight of Cassidy. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company. Is this not a good time?”

“This is my girlfriend, Cassidy,” Javi said. He felt the familiar surge of warmth throughout his body he got every time he said those words. “She’s helping me get settled in.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Cassidy,” Montauk said, holding out his hand to shake hers. “Are you moving up here, too?”

“No, I have a small ranch in Laredo,” Cassidy said brightly. “Right next to Javi’s dad’s place.” Her voice was chipper, but Javi could see a shadow in her eyes. She was taking this harder than she was letting on.

They followed Montauk down to his car and he drove them to the car dealership on the other side of the city. He introduced them to the salesman and went on his way. After a few hours of mind-numbing paperwork, Javi emerged with a three year lease on a modest blue Ford Escort. It wasn’t fancy, but it would get him to work and back and was comfortable enough for the drive back and forth to Laredo.

Afterward, he and Cassidy had lunch at a little cafe not far from the dealership and then stopped at the grocery store closest to his apartment building to stock up on essentials, like coffee and bread and whiskey. At the register, Javi added a carton of cigarettes, which made Cassidy shake her head. She was trying her best to get him to quit, or at least cut back, but after the years in Colombia, it was a hard habit to break, especially when he was under stress. And he was going to be dealing with a lot of stress in the weeks ahead.

Back at the apartment, they put the groceries away and Cassidy sat down at the table with a writing tablet. “Okay, you’ve got food, but you still need appliances,” she said. “Coffee maker, microwave. Those are essential. How about a TV?”

Javi shook his head as he sat down across from her. “That can wait,” he said. “But definitely the coffee maker and microwave. Those are my main cooking tools.” He laughed. “I can live without television easily, but without coffee? No way in hell.”

They brainstormed a list of things he would buy at Walmart the next day, as well as a list of other things he could purchase as time and budget allowed. It was cozy in a way, doing something as bland and domestic as drawing up a shopping list, and Javi wished that Cassidy wasn’t going back to Laredo in the morning. He’d told her he’d never ask her to leave her horses, and he knew it was the right thing to do, but he still selfishly wished she’d choose him over everything else.

“At least get yourself a little radio or something,” Cassidy said as she tore the list free from the writing tablet. “This place is awfully quiet. Especially if you’re going to be here alone.” She smiled tightly.

Javi took the list from her and folded it neatly. “Good idea,” he said. “So, what do you want to do tonight? We’ve got leftover pizza to eat, but it’s Saturday night. Want to go to a movie or something?”

“No, let’s stay in,” Cassidy said. She traced a lazy circle on the tabletop with her finger. “I might have gotten a bit carried away yesterday,” she said carefully. “I think maybe tonight we should talk. Really talk.” She looked up at him and her eyes were sober.

“Okay,” Javi said quietly. “I’d like that.” He was nervous about what she might say, but he knew they couldn’t avoid it forever.

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

Cassidy stood in the shower, letting the hot water cascade through her hair and down her back. It had been an intense evening, as she’d opened up to Javi and told him all her fears about the way ahead. He’d admitted his own misgivings but in the end, he’d convinced her that what they had was worth fighting for. They’d talked through every tiny detail of making a long distance relationship work. He would call her at least twice a week, probably after nine o’clock when the long distance rates dropped, and drive down to Laredo every Friday night after work unless the weather was too bad or he was sick or he absolutely had to work over the weekend.

He’d also insisted that since she was keeping Buster at her place, and that he was Javi’s horse, he would pay boarding fees and all the other expenses Buster accrued. Cassidy hadn’t wanted to ask, but she was grateful he’d offered. It was only two hundred dollars a month, plus any vet bills, but every little bit helped. She could breathe a little easier, knowing that Javi’d be giving her a check every month.

She shut off the water and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around hair and another around her body. Her underwear and bra were hanging off the end of the curtain rod. She’d rinsed them out in the sink, not willing to wear them three days in a row without being cleaned. She made a note to remind Chucho that if he wanted to spring another dirty weekend on them, he needed to give her at least enough warning to pack a change of clothes.

She left the bathroom and walked to the bedroom. Javi had already taken his shower and was in bed, sitting propped up against the headboard, flipping through the phone book. “What are you doing?” she asked as she removed the towel from her hair and squeezed as much water out as she could. Without a blow dryer, she’d have to wait for her hair to air dry and that could take forever.

“Just looking for a bookstore,” he said. “Until I buy a television, I’ll need something to keep me entertained in the evenings, if I don’t have work.” He closed the phone book and tossed it onto the shelf at the bottom of the nightstand. “Looks like there’s one at the mall.” He shuddered. “I’ll brave that one evening after work. Don’t think I can handle a mall on a Sunday afternoon.”

Cassidy laughed at the image of her grumpy Javi trying to maneuver through the hordes of teenagers in a mall. “Aw, maybe there’s a library you can go to instead,” she said, tossing the damp towel into the hamper just inside the bedroom door. “I didn’t peg you for a reader.” She pulled off the other towel and slid into bed beside him.

Javi shrugged. “Normally I don’t have time,” he said. “But I read.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t tell anyone, but I really like those cozy British mysteries, like Agatha Christie. Everything is so neat and tidy, not like real life.”

She booped the tip of his nose. “Your secret is safe with me,” she said. “I’m partial to fantasy stories, myself. Total escape from reality, plus sometimes there are horses.”

He kissed her nose. “Someday we’ll have a fireplace,” he said. “And we can sit in front of it all snuggled up in a blanket, reading our books and sharing the good parts.”

“You mean the parts that we think are especially well-written, or do you mean the smutty parts?” she teased.

“Either,” he said. “But I think the smutty parts would lead to us putting the books down and doing something else under that blanket.” He slid down in the bed so he was lying facing her.

She slid down to match him, her wet hair making a damp patch on the pillow. “I could handle that,” she said quietly. He kissed her and she forgot all about her hair and books and the fact she was leaving in the morning. All she knew was Javi’s arms and hands and lips, until she fell asleep in his embrace, sated in every possible way. Her heart was full, her mind was calm and her body was satisfied.

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

Chucho called at eight the next morning, to let them know he was getting ready to leave. That meant they had only a couple of hours left before they had to say goodbye. Cassidy scrambled some eggs, adding cheese and some onions and peppers. Javi ran down to the donut shop for coffee and by the time he came back, she had two plates piled with fluffy eggs and buttered toast waiting.

They ate breakfast quietly, washed the dishes and then wandered aimlessly around the apartment while they waited. Far too soon, there was a heavy knock at the door and there was Chucho, with a box of odds and ends he thought Javi might need, including a small stack of paperback books. “They were in that little bookcase in your bedroom,” he explained. “Wasn’t sure if you’d already read them or not.” Cassidy took a glance. The Murder at the Vicarage, Appointment with Death, and The Moving Finger were prominent titles. She suppressed a smile as Javi grumpily took the books from his father.

“Thanks,” he said curtly.

Chucho clapped his hands. “Well, let me use the bathroom and we can head out,” he said. “If we get back in time, Tia Jacinta is making chile verde for her granddaughter’s ballet recital.” He chuckled. “I got out of the recital because I had to drive up here, but we can still get some of the food.” He winked and headed into the bathroom.

“So, this is it,” Cassidy said, her hands suddenly trembling.

“Call me when you get home,” Javi said, laying his hands on her arms, holding her steady. “And I’ll call you Tuesday night, let you know how things are going at work, and what time you can expect me on Friday.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you, hermosa.”

“I love you, too,” she replied, pressing her forehead against his. “The week should go fast for you, with work and everything.”

“Yeah,” Javi said, clearly trying to stay upbeat and not quite achieving it. “It’ll fly by and I’ll be home before you know it.” He squeezed her shoulders tightly. “I’ll be thinking of you every day, Cassidy.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “It’ll be okay.”

Chucho came out of the bathroom. “No tearful goodbyes,” he said firmly. “You’ll see each other in less than a week, and you’re only a phone call away. Now, come on, mija, let’s go so I can get some of that chile verde!”

She gave Javi one last kiss and followed Chucho down to his truck. As she buckled herself into the passenger seat, Chucho leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “You’ll see.” He fastened his own seatbelt, put the truck in gear and backed out of his parking space. Cassidy took one last glance back at the apartment building, and then they headed home.

[gluechugger]

REDDEADHEAD AU RUNNING MASTERPOST

I can’t stop thinking about my deadhead au and I have so much to say about it that I can’t even put it in a post like I have a running list of character deaths and songs and things I want to draw and band t shirt virtue signaling and anyway here’s some ideas

Updated last: 9/11 8:00pm

tw for character death,drug use

Feel free to like this post! I would love any kind of feedback even if this is mostly here for me to reference!! Maybe don’t reblog since it’ll be updated often.

Drawing ideas;

Strauss in a Rammstein shirt.

Mary Beth printing her zine at the Fed Ex print shop.

Tilly and Grimshaw listening to The Slits together

Arthur watching cartoons with Jack

Im going to make a post with bands the gang listen to individually. Ie: Arthur likes Pixies, Dinosaur Jr. John likes Korn, Deftones, and various other numetal.

An mtv playlist that embodies the gang

Blurbs:

The house is a character in itself because most of the events of the games take place there or in town. I imagine it’s somewhere in backwoods Kentucky/southern Indiana ? That’s probably where Dutch’s artsy parents settled down and bought the house which he inherits. Dutch’s dad dies in Viet Nam, his mother passes later in the early 80’s. The house is probably close to Bloomington/IU where his parents went to school. The residents of the house in the winter of 1998 would be Arthur, Dutch, John, Jack, Abigail, Louise, and Hosea would be living in the carriage house.

Sadie, Charles, Uncle, Grimshaw, Lenny & Sean(roommates) have places in town and visit often during the winter.

The house has 3 cats and one dog, kind of a fucked up looking pitty mix. His head is a little smushed and he’s not very smart but he keeps Arthur company. Most of the time the dog will go on the road with them, but Arthur rides back home with him for company. When they adopted the dog, Dutch wouldn’t shut up about how “ugly and stupid” the creature was and named it “George Dubbya” most of the gang call him Dubbya apart from Arthur who just calls him George.

All character ages coincide with 100 years before. Arthur born in 1963 and so on. Louise is one year older than John, born in 1972. Heres a very helpful timeline!

Jobs for the gang in the off season/when they’re home:

Most of them sell weed and psychedelics for Dutch but Arthur is the main breadwinner during the off season. He’s built a decent reputation in town and a lot of folks depend on him to deliver their drugs safely. Arthur also works for a frozen grocery delivery business(like the swans trucks) and brings home any thing that falls off the truck, keeping the house fed in the winter.

Dutch does not have a “real” job but makes enough to pay property taxes and utilities thru his illegal side hustles, mostly executed by those in the house.

Hosea is retired 🙌

Louise gets a serving job once she’s living in the house with everyone. She works at the Red Lobster in town or something like that.

Still considering John’s job, he might work for a construction company later in life but I’m considering giving him something like an airport security job in the winter.

Lenny manages a pizza joint where Sean is a pizza delivery boy. Instead of dying both of them leave for school but Lenny is older than Sean and leaves a year before him. Sean doesn’t know what to do without his roommate around and drives the gang crazy.

Charles lives in town and doesn’t tour with the gang. He’s married and lives in a trailer with his wife. Arthur sells to them and they get close during the summer of ‘98. Charles is a paramedic and is the first responder to Hosea’s car wreck. He gets the drugs out of the car before the cops show up god bless him.

(This is some wooey wooey esoteric shit so if you’re not into that please feel free to ignore this nonsense about the haunted house character) The house is absolutely haunted but after staying there most of his life, Arthur has kind of come to terms with it and is the best as far as dealing with the strange happenings. The way each resident reacts to the house is very specific and draws from their relation to the house. The house pushes people together and apart thru its seasons. It affects Louise in an attempt to drive her into Arthur’s arms. It gives Jack nightmares. John is not receptive to it. It keeps Arthur safe when he’s alone. It drives Dutch even further into himself.

Running timeline-ish:

(I will edit this after I post it shhhh I’m really just jotting things down 😭 I love writing shitheads and sometimes it’s hard to give them the respect and gravitas they deserve or don’t, especially when I’m just trying to work out logistics.)

Arthur has a public freak out in the early spring of 1998 when the gang heads out on the road and Dutch decides it’s not safe to keep him on the road while they’re actively engaged in illegal activities. Arthur agrees to some degree and heads home for the season. This feeling of uselessness plagues him for the rest of his life. He doesn’t return to the scene.

Louise has been kind of on the run since she escaped the troubled teen industry about 10 years back in 1988. She’s been sleeping on couches, stripping, hiding out in the party scene around LA but never secured a place to stay and has completely cut off her parents.

Dutch meets Louise in summer 1998 and they immediately hit it off and start going out. It doesn’t last long and by the beginning of fall 1998 Dutch is already thinking of a way to get rid of her. In mid October, Dutch swings back by the house to enact step one of his new plan to cut off two limbs in one strike. With very little patience or compassion for Arthur’s mental state, he knows spending the winter locked up with a basket case isn’t in his best interest. If he can get Louise to cheat on him with Arthur, he’ll have an excuse to kick them both out of the house. Dutch explains the situation to to Louise, telling her she has to pay $150 monthly for rent, chores she must maintain, and so on and so forth if she expects to have a place to stay for the winter. Arthur is not clued in on these plans, nor does he know that Louise had dated Dutch until she has the chance to explain it to him. Arthur’s only contact to the gang til they return for the winter is periodic calls from John or Charles who actually take the time to check on him. They’re pretty clueless on the Louise situation.

When Arthur hears the bus pull up to the house, he runs out side thinking he might get to see young Jack or maybe even Hosea, but the only person who steps out is Louise and the bus drives off. He doesn’t know the truth about what’s going on until he asks John for clarification over the phone but he can’t say much. Louise is free with the information she gives Arthur and Arthur is quick to understand Dutch’s intentions. He does his best to stay away from Louise for the rest of the fall, but it’s a fruitless effort and they end up sleeping together.

(Timeskip, will fill in later)

the following is moreso what happens within the red dead redemption 1 and 2 timeline.

Arthur OD’d in 2002 after acid broke his mind and he went on to harder drugs to deal w the mental pain. Like to think he and Louise managed to get an apartment together but Arthur missed his family too much to deal with it. Louise(ESPECIALLY, possibly trying to pass blame off because she feels responsible herself? Is she? Up to intetpertation), John and almost everyone else kind of blame Dutch for Arthur’s death(makes sense) and the gang dissolves. Dutch breaks when Hosea dies in a car crash, heading home for the season in fall of 1999.

Since John moved out, Dutch has been harassing John with CPS calls and other various insane threats. John shows up back at Dutch’s house in winter 2008 back where it all started to end this whole mess, shotgun in his hands, snow falling, crunching under his feet as he approaches the house. The recession has really taken a toll on the Marston household, cps calls are getting harder to deal with. Bill is inside helping Dutch defend his house and threatens John’s life. John didn’t come here with the intention to hurt anyone, but bill fires a shot in his direction and it comes far too close for John. In self defense, John takes Bill out with the shotgun. The whole thing culminates in Dutch climbing up on the roof in some wild display of ownership over his space and he looses his footing, falling to his death.

We fade to black and then a news broadcast comes on screen and displays the events of the murders: man shot trying to defend friend’s home, owner shoved off roof. No evidence pointing to killer. We pan out to see John, Abigail, Uncle, Charles, Sadie and 13 year old Jack watching the news broadcast.

[juleskelleybooks]

Ten First Lines

@morethanslightly tagged me and I'm happy to play! These are for original work, both published and still in-progress!

The sweltering heat of a Georgia summer that refused to die lurked just at the edge of her senses, teasing her skin even underneath the arctic blast of Atlanta International Airport’s best air conditioning. - "Swelter," 2016

Maya opened her front door at 7:13 PM on the twenty-first day of October expecting to tip her regular pizza delivery boy, but instead she found herself thrusting a five-dollar bill at a curvy young woman in a pleated miniskirt and a skin-tight pentagram T-shirt that began well below her collarbones and ended well above her belly button. - "Shiver," 2020

Fire exploded through his lungs and palms as his knees buckled again, sprawling him across the cold, wet ground. - Edge of the Woods, 2021

Crowds didn’t usually bother Sebastian Keane, but when he was trying to elbow his way through the sweaty throng to get away from his date-gone-bad, he wished fervently that the Atlanta Pride pre-party had less of one. - Welcome to the Show, 2022

No matter how many times Val Kunes cleared the text message notification from his phone, it kept showing back up. - Night Is For Hunting, 2023

Johnny’s double-wide was butted right up against the back of the junkyard way out on the edge of town, no neighbors for at least half a mile, so whoever was knocking at my door early on a Tuesday morning was there on purpose. - Stars Still Fall, 2023

Nate Dubarr hadn’t been around horses much, but even he could tell the team’s demeanor was changing as they approached a narrow stretch of road lined on either side by shrubby, stout trees frothing with white blossoms. - Blackthorn, WIP

El Myrrick took a deep, measured breath in through his nose and then let it leave slowly through his mouth. - A Touch of Magic, WIP

You should go. Toby’s hands shook as he cleared the text message off the screen of his phone, and he wrapped them around his coffee mug to hide the tremor. It made ripples in the liquid instead, the evidence of something too big to hide from. - Late Blooming [working title], WIP

Protein powder. Canned pearl onions. Maraschino cherries. Margarita mix. Pop Tarts! Yes, jackpo—shit. Empty. - Blues Run the Game [working title], WIP

(Please consider yourself tagged if you'd like to play!!)

[thewritersaddictions]

First Kiss: Argyle- Surprise

Pairing: Argyle x Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader

Warnings: First Kiss, fluff, goofiness, fake pizza delivery, love, fluff

Summary: He can't think of a better time to kiss you then when he delivers a fake order.

A/n- Firefly-graphics for dividers

WC- 1.7k

Stranger Things Master List // The Adults Master List // Series Master List // First Kiss Master List

Funny enough the two of us had gotten high together before having kissed you. He had rolled up a blunt for me and then rolled himself up one. Lighting them both and you guys went to town. We were smoking the blunt and rolling into deep and heavy laughs before falling down on into my bed. 

My parents were never home, so the smell of weed that was wafting through the house wasn’t anything to worry about, and secondly, since they weren’t home I didn’t care if my boyfriend stayed over. Sleeping in my bed, so close to me every night that he stayed off. He came out of the bathroom with a pair of loose and low-fitting sweatpants and a pizza t-shirt. It read “Surfer Boy Pizza” It smelt like fresh pizza and weed. Or maybe that was just what Argyle smelled like at this point, regardless Argyle slipped into the sheets next to me. 

He always let me braid his long hair before sleeping in the same bed. Argyle was so sweet never pushing any boundary I made. I had told him at the start of our relationship that I wasn’t sure about the whole kissing idea, or really anything that had me losing some sort of control. 

He understand and took my words to heart. “Are you comfortable yet?” He asked as I cuddled closer to him under my sheets. I was trying to nuzzle myself up to him. He had yet to put his arm around me, not wanting to close me in yet. I wiggled a little bit more, the weed and more own need for sleep kicking me in the ass. “Yeah, I think. I’m good now.” I said. Resting my head on his chest. 

I could hear his heartbeat up against my ear. It lulled me to sleep as I dreamt of weird and crazy things. The next morning when I woke up Argyle was gone, but a note was left behind. He had to go to work and would be back later. So, I yawned and stretch in the mess of my sheets. I lay in my bed for what seemed like forever. Daydreaming about life outside of California. I wondered about what it would be like to live away from home. Just Argyle and I, Sleeping in late and staying awake for long nights. 

When I was forced to get out of my daydream due to having to go to the bathroom. I decided to get ready for the day. I took a long and hot shower even though it was going to be a stuffy and hot day outside. I let the water run down my body and the soapy suds cleanse my body of any nightly sweats. I washed my hair letting my fingers glide through my hair, a few tangled happening due to the shampoo. 

After my shower, I got dressed, brushed out my wet hair, and brushed my teeth before pampering myself with some light makeup. My lashes were thick with mascara, and a little bit of gold-dusted eyeshadow before I took a long look at myself in the mirror. 

I was tired I could tell. The bags under my eyes were dark and large. I never truly ever got good sleep during the night. Nightmares or dreams would scatter my mind and most of the nights I would wake up in a sweat, unless my sweet Argyle was sleeping next to me. He grounded me, kept me feeling safe. 

For the rest of the night I laid around my parents house. Reading, and doing some light house work. With Argyle staying most nights here the dishes piled up rather quickly, so I rolled up my sweater sleeves and got to work with the dishes. 

I was never one for liking to do diehses. The slimy things that would be left over from nights of dinner, and other food. Coffee that would stain your cup with a ring around the entire thing. I filled up the dishwasher with silverware, and other dishes that we had both been using. Whenever my parents did come back they would never know that Argyle had come over, not would they care. 

Minutes turned into hours of waiting for Argyle to come home. I ended up falling asleep curled up into the blanket that draped over my couch. I had slipped a movie on, sixteen candles. Molly Ringwalds character was my favorite. But still even with that I had fallen asleep in the comfort and warm of my couch.

I was woken up by an insistent knocking on my door. Then a ring from the doorbell, I was groggily waking up and the more the knocking and ringing happened the more I got mad. “I’m coming!” I screamed from my spot on the couch. The knocking and ringing stopped I stretched on the couch teh blanket slipping off of me. I shivered when a breeze of cold air came laying down on my body. 

I got up to my feet. My slippers were sitting right where I had left them. I guided my feet into them, and walked towards the door. I tired to think of a reason why someone would be ringing on my doorbell. I had been asleep, but maybe something bad had happened in the neightborhood and it was cops. Maybe it was nothing but a prankster. 

Regardless I would answer the door. I didn’t have a fancy peep-hole, or windows around my front door to see who was there and the sun had already set so there was no chance of being able to tell who it was due to the dark sky outside. 

When I opened there stood my boyfriend. His durpy face bringing a smile to my own. “I have a cheesy pizza for a miss L/n.” He said happily. “Oh, for me?” I questioned him. He turned his head like puppies when they hear an odd sound. “Yeah for you. I thought I’d bring it home to you.” He said. 

He always called this place ‘home’. Like it was ours, together. It made me wanted to melt down to the ground. “Oh Argyle.” I said, biting my lip. He didn’t come in automatically, instead he stood at the front door pizza box still in the insulated bag. “Are you going to come in?” I asked. He shook his head, lockinghis pizza delivery van from the door. 

He walked in step behind me. I walked us towards the kitchen. “So when did this said pizza get order?” I asked him. He shot me a look to let it go and just be in the moment. “Okay, I’m sorry.” I said bringing my hands up in a defensive position. I grabbed some plates out of the cabinets and the condiments I knew that argyle liked. No matter what Argyle was always ready for a slive of Surfers boy pizza. Weather that was because he was always hungry or because he actually liked their pizza I wouldn’t dare ask. 

I set the plates down on the counter top, Argyle had set himself on the bar stool that was adjacent to me across the bar. “I’ll just take a kis.. A piece for right now.” Argyle said while looking at me. I wondered what I thought I heard but instead I popped the top of the pizza box open. The great smell of pizza slapped me in the face. 

We stood in comfortable silence. I plated his food, without even looking at the top of the pizza box lid. Rather to hungry and too invested in getting my own food in my mouth to notice. When I gave Argyle his plate a small sad expression was on his face. It was gone before I was able to question the reason for it. 

When I looked back down I grabbed my predetermined slices. Three cheesy, thick and greasy but delicious. When I looked back up from my pizza Argyle was staring me down. “Did you need something else baby?” I asked. “I just think that you’re missing something in the pizza box is all.” He said, before shoving a rather larger bite of pizza into his mouth. I looked back down, confused by his words. 

That’s when I found it. On the top of the lid on the inside. In Argyle rather fancy handwriting. 

“Can I kiss the pizza sauce off your lips?” -A 

I looked up shocked and blushing cheeks. I was rambling to come up with words in my head. I had talked to him about my boundary, but I felt like the longer I didn’t kiss him the longer I was missing out on a certain great part of him. I looked back down at the box, then back up. 

Argyle was looking over at me. He asn’t trying to force me, but he sat there a handsome man looking and asking me in a cheesy way. Or rather in Argyles way. “Will you come over here?” Argyle asked, my feet movedo n their own taking me around the kitchen, bar, and then finally infront of him. He was already taller then me so I was only given a few more inches when he was sitting down on the stool. 

“Hi.” Argyle said sweetly, his hair was so dark when I stood close to him like this. “Hi.” I echoed. I couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t have any pizza sauce on my lips yet.” I said “No, but I do. So, I can fix that real quick.” Argyle said with a cheeky smile. I bit my lip, and didn’t give Argyle any time to adjust. I leaned in taking his lips in mine. Our lips molded together in a prefect fashion. Moving in sync, my tongue licking his lips to ask for entrance into his mouth. He gladly gave it me, and we shared a deep and soft kiss. 

I always thought a kiss had to be fast, and rather crass. Careless almost in every action you did with each other. It was not like that with Argyle though, his hand messy with butter and crumbs came to rest comfortably on my hip dragging me in even closer to him. I giggled in the kiss and lived in the moment. 

“You know that was a pleasant surprise you gave me,” I said when Argyle pulled away from the kiss. “A pleasant first kiss, I hope Y/n?” Argyle asked, his hand still resting on my hip. I hummed and wiped away the pizza sauce on his cheek. My thumb grazed over his soft cheek and then plopped it into my mouth. “No need to waste good sauce on your cheek baby,” I said, before going in for another sweet and tender kiss.

Completed on 01/28/23

Posted on: 01/29/23

The Adults- @yourfavdummy

[anniebass]

Pizza Boxes

(870 words, Rated T, read on ao3)

It’s not that he fucking minds, it’s just that now, after everything, he’s been dubbed a big Hero of Hawkins, and everyone kinda expects him to help. Continue helping. Not with world-saving, lately it’s been cats on trees and groceries to be carried, little favors left and right. It’s like Steve’s proverbial superhero cape is actually more of a wedgie.

No superpowers, though, the Upside Down wasn’t so generous as to bestow him with something cool as a parting gift, like flying or mind-reading or tele-thingamajig where you move things, could fucking use that one for sure, groceries and taking down furballs from trees would be a breeze then. No, it’s just his car and a nice presence and saving a group of teens a while back that made everyone in this fucking town collectively love him. And he’d love it too, if love was the extent of it.

This time it’s a goddamn pizza delivery for the Hellfire Club, one of the dumbest, most trivial things he agreed to as of late, a last-minute request since Eddie the Acquitted can’t manage his time for shit.

One of those little buttheads should get a car pronto, because Steve’s lauded goodwill runs out riiight around pro bono pizza delivery. Plus, no chance they’ll pay him back in full for this, maybe Munson will, though probably in nature. Supplying him with that sweet green kush.

Really, he should just eat his share, with his wingspan he could even reach them from the driver’s seat, but the topmost one is the pineapple pizza requested by young Byers, and Steve couldn’t stoop this low. What next, bananas? Canned peach? Gross.

He arrives at the deserted parking lot of Hawkins High, where once he made his conquests, in the beemer making out with many girls and fingerblasting at least four, where he’d experiment with things too, smoking weed and chilling in the backseat. Where now, in his time of dry spell and drier fingers, only those pizzas were chilling, literally. Five more minutes and those entitled shits would scream that the pizza’s cold.

He takes the stack of boxes, smelling quite nice, really, and crosses the parking lot enters the school, the long corridor, turning left toward the drama club, where Hellfire presides whenever the theater nerds have a day off.

Stopping by the door, he takes a breath, listens in. Muffled voices, sounds like Lucas, and in reply muffled Eddie, his voice rising and falling in reply, as always so obnoxiously theatrical, guy just can’t speak normal. But eh, fitting, for that silly game.

He shifts the stack to one hand, propping it against his cocked hip, and knocks like a goddamn pizza boy. No experience in that, he’s only ever been a newspaper boy, zapping around on his BMX and practicing his aim, tossing the rolled-up papers in the bushes of mean old neighbors and in the windows of pretty girls.

The voices inside get quiet, a scrape of chairs and scuttling inside, steps approaching, and the door swings open to Eddie Munson, shaggy-haired and in a band t-shirt this time, the one with the devil must be in the laundry, his grin wide and warm like a rift in the earth, saying a loud Steve!

Behind him the shadowy room, the club around the table, all those sweaty nerds plus Erica Sinclair, staring at him or rather at the pizzas, voiceless and unmoving until Eddie continues with the obnoxiousness, booming oh, sweet nourishment!, then snapping around: Wheeler, get over here, take those inside!

Steve taps his foot. Rolls his eyes. To the question of what do we owe you? he rolls them again with a scoff, yeah yeah, Munson, you know the drill, and gets an even bigger grin, canines and molars and dimples a sign of done deal: oh, noble ser Steve! You aid us in times of great peril! A true hero!

Before he manages to think up anything in reply, Eddie waltzes right into his personal space, scooping him into a hug, rib-crushingly tight, surprising for his scrawny build.

It’s a long hug. There are eyes on him, even if he doesn’t see them, they’re right there in the darkened room, wide and staring above mouths slowly chewing on pepperoni, because this, this is new.

To them.

Dude, I have the worst munchies, you’re just in time, mumbles Eddie, and his breath fans all warm against Steve’s neck, and Steve seriously considers scooching out, what with his dick popping up like the lid of a pizza box.

He dispels it with a muttered don’t mention it. It’s salvation to the kids as well, he’s seen Eddie hangry, it ain’t a pretty sight.

But eh, he’s also seen him pretty, chilling in his backseat in an afterglow, about an hour ago. With stains on his Hellfire t-shirt, not that visible on white, but still. No time for pizza pickup, what with the necessary outfit swap.

Still hugging. A very, very long hug.

You want some? whispers Eddie.

Nah, says Steve, not sure if it’s about pizza or another blowjob.

But eh, wouldn’t be caught getting either in the drama club room of Hawkins High.

Some things just taste better in the backseat of his car.

Steve brought pizza for the D&D sesh, the DM is merely thanking him

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Being Comfortable

*Warning Adult Content*

Finnegan

I haven't seen Emmett in over a week and that's 95% my fault. I hate it which is worrying me on a different level but I also haven't had too much time to think about it. My father showed up at the factory on Friday morning for a walk through. My mother had flown out as well so I spent all weekend showing them Baltimore, the little of it I knew anyway. I of course came down with the spring cold from hell and spent Tuesday in bed and Wednesday working from my couch.

Emmett offered to come over and bring me soup but he was working all day and I was in no shape for company of any sort. That's what delivery is for. Yesterday I managed to get to work I make it through the day but I was in bed by 7:30. We've texted and had two evening phone calls so he knows I'm not ignoring him but it's just not the same... I miss him. I haven't really had anyone to miss in a long time or what feels like a long time. I don't know where this is going, him and me. For one, I should be heading back to Michigan in a month or so. Two, letting someone into my head, letting them know my secrets, well that's scary. I've never done it before and I don't know how it's going to play out.

Part of me wants to spin around and sing at top my lungs like I'm in the sound of music, like my apartment is the Austrian countryside. And yes, I want to do it in funny boxers. But then reality sets in and I know I'm weird and honestly, I don't want to date anyone who thinks I'm not. It makes me worry about what else they wouldn't have a problem with, know what I mean? But the possibility is enough to make me forget all of that and when he was here last week and I got to nap curled up against him wearing yes, my batman briefs, I was a happy, happy boy. We'd had a delicious dinner and I'd gotten a few very thorough kisses before he left.

It was a good day... a great day and I miss him and that. That feeling of being comfortable, really comfortable, with someone. I like the people at work but I have to put up a front, play the part. I love my parents and had a good time with them last weekend but no matter how much we love each other, there are some things that would just be going too far. There are rules and expectations and I'm really glad there are. How weird would it be for my mom to flash someone or my dad to tap my beer bottle? It's late by the time I get home and my apartment is very, very empty. I have a hard couch, a mostly empty fridge and nothing to do. I don't have much energy either but suddenly my apartment feels like a jail cell... I call Emmett.

"Hey, darling," he answers.

I smile because I do every time he calls me that.

"Hey. I just got home and I'm bored."

"You should come over here and play with my ferret."

'It will never not be funny.'

"I could order pizza."

That does it... that's a win.

"From that place?"

I don't even remember what it was called.

"Only place I order from, Finnegan."

"I'll pay, get me one and I'll be right there."

He chuckles.

"You're excited and I can tell by your voice that you can breathe a bit better, that's good. Taste buds must be back too. Hey, I'm not working in the morning so if you want to stay, bring a few things."

Stay tonight? Sounds good even though I'll probably be in bed by nine which is only two hours from now or stay the weekend? He said a few... if I show up at the ceiling and tonight he's going to get freaked out. I will pack lightly and leave some stuff in my car just in case.

"Sleeping with you sounds really good, Emmett. See you soon."

"Drive safe, Finnegan."

Half an hour later I'm on his comfortable couch wearing boxers and a Mr. bubbles T-shirt that Emmett pulled from the depths of his closet. I have two huge slices of pizza in front of me and he's yelling from the kitchen

"Want a beer?"

Too soon.

"No. Water is fine."

He brings me a sports bottle with a bendy straw. It has initials on it I can't place and I'm guessing is some automotive part distributor or such. I'd expected a glass but...

"Holds more," he says by way of explanation.

Not that I'm complaining... not really... it's fun. I pull the straw most of the way out since it's pretty full and that gives me plenty to play with. We get settled and snuggled up under a blanket. 

"Comfy, Finnegan?"

He has no idea just how comfortable I am. 

"I'm good Emmett, thanks." 

I fall asleep halfway through the Lego 2 movie.

[littleharpethcrossfit]

Saturday, 21 October, 2023.

It was a brisk 45 degrees at the early workout, but it warmed to 60 degrees by the start of the 0930. A perfect sunny Fall morning at the Barn.

The Admiral and Birthday Boy Armando led our mobility warmup.

Warmup #2

Demo'ed by Dana.

4 Rounds

10 Banded Good Mornings

10 Banded Thrusters

Armando's 51st Birthday WOD

1 ROUND

10 Bench Press ( 185 / 135 / 85 )

Row-Ski 1,972m or Bike 3,944m

18 Deadlifts ( 225 / 185 / 125 )

51 Sledge-Hammers

10 Minute Interval For Rest And Re-set Equipment

Bernard's 47th Birthday WOD

1 Round

10 Shoulder To Overhead ( 135 / 95 / 75 )

Row-Ski 1,976m or Bike 3,952m

24 Power Cleans ( 135 / 95 / 75 )

47 Sledge-Hammers

Scores:

Post Time For Armando WOD and Time For Bernard WOD.

HOWEVER, Chicken-Legged Larry gave me some heart-felt suggestions regarding the posting of scores, and since I am always and forever in tune with the old "2 heads are better than 1" (except in marriage), I realized that posting scores as one combined number was a superior method. Even better would have been scoring the elapsed time from start to finish including the 10 minute rest. But since we didn't post that way, I did all the math, combining everyone's scores and collating them as (thanklessly) always.

Shane=25:34** Bernard=25:41** Larry=26:03** Armando=26:20** Ed=27:58** Elisa/Kayla/Alicia=28:06 Robert=28:30** LSU=28 "something" Nathan=29:30* Rodney=29:31 Jon=29:33 Warren A=29:38 Joe=30 "something" Mitch=30:56 Dyer=32:09* Tim=32:30* Cherrita=33:45 Coach=35:54 Tom=35:56 WG=38:16 Faith (The Kid)=39:39 Shannon/Michelle=41:00 Sandy=42:00 Average Dave="Personal Records" Many failed to post scores. Like the lovely Ruth Anne.

Notes:

Considering these two Birthday WODs were designed by unprofessional programmers while under the influence of copious alcohol, our gang performed them with enthusiasm and negligible glomming.

Jon was sponsored by Rodney and is a Pediatrician known professionally by many of us. FYI, Robert has a jealous and monetarily competitive disliking for all Medical Doctors. Billed as a mono-structural athlete (runner), Jon seemed to do well under Rodney's tutelage and left with a fine BSN T-shirt. Michelle is Shannon's Sister and today was her first visit to the Barn. I think Michelle was intimidated and did not want to work out with us, stating her inclination to just go for a run in the park. With some arm-twisting and locking the Arboretum gate, I got her to work out with Sister Shannon. And it was a beautiful thing to watch. I'm sure they made fond memories today. She left with a T-shirt also.

Usually Kayla brews us iced coffee on Saturday mornings. Timmy even brought extra ice. Alas, Kayla didn't bring the coffee fixings today, mumbling the excuse that she "didn't come here from home". She left in a hot-rush immediately after the WOD like maybe she left something boiling over a hot fire, or maybe left the shower running.

Miss Linda returns from visiting our North Carolina Kids today, and she is going to be crabbier than usual when she sees all her pre-cooked meals that she left for me untouched in the fridge. She will know that several of my favorite Barn Girls fed me with their own home-cookin'. Usually the resident dog would have profited from this situation, but Miss Esther took Ginger The Pup home with her for the last few days.

This commercial showing Domino Pizza delivery persons flying thru the air delivering hot Pizza's without benefit of parachutes or drones is going to result in an outbreak of youngsters who identify as birds getting killed jumping from planes or other high places. Kayla brought a SoCal girl-friend to the Barn last week who I believe thinks she is a bird. Sammy D wasn't here that day, else they woulda bonded like Gorilla Glue.

Sunday at 0730 and 1 PM. I hope Kayla can make it.