#pre season dump

[pernillecfcw]

@zeciramusovic - Home again after some intense but fun days in murica. A few once-in-a- lifetime experience off pitch and some good team performances on pitch . Two tough opponents and two wins , with loads of appreciated support in the stands . Until next time…..Thank you!🇺🇸🫶🏻

[arcane-aesthetics]

[forelsketparadise]

[mv1simp]

The Take ♥️

Trainer! Max Verstappen x Midsize!Reader

I wanna put you in seven positions for seventy minutes, you'll get it babe (take you down, I really wanna take you down)

Everyone knows Max Verstappen hates having to workout out constantly. If it wasn't for his physically demanding career as a F1 driver, his choice of a workout would involve a weekly padel game with his mates and FIFA on his PS5. His trainer tries something different and gets Max to be the instructor for once - to you, a sweet and naive girl whose jerk boyfriend told her to lose weight. Max couldn't resist using a hands on method to help you get your confidence back.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark max girlies rejoice we’re back in action, naive! Chubby! reader, dubcon, explicit cheating but reader’s boyfriend is an absolute jerk hehe, size kink, WC 2.7k

Rupert, Redbull's physical trainer that had been delegated to none other than the legendary champion driver Max Verstappen, was at his wit’s end with his client. With his 4 world championships, Max was very familiar with the intense workout routine an F1 driver needed to maintain. It was just, well, he was just sick of the same repetitive timetable over and over again. And his physical trainer could see the results reflecting in Max’s pre season testing, seeing how Max’s numbers were admittedly very good, they were not as high as they’d been in the past.

Everything Rupert had tried to brainstorm to inspire Max had fallen short. From different workout locations (Monaco is only so big, after all), to the most unique exercise techniques he had googled (Brazilian cold water immersive Pilates did not resonate with Max) - everything had come up short. At his wit’s end, Rupert decided to throw a last ditch resort at Max - training you.

You’re a pretty, pure hearted twenty something marketing executive in Monaco, with a narcissistic boyfriend who thinks he’s a top shot with the new money he’s raking in from making a new app. Such a top shot that he feels entitled to hire a personal trainer for his sweet girlfriend, demanding you look like a perfect Insta model. That’s what every man in Monaco wants! he says patronisingly to you, gaslighting you into attending the training. That’s why he reached out to Rupert, a very famous trainer - who consequently dumps you onto Max, stating that he needed a two week holiday from the Dutchman and he could take over his new client. You’ll survive, it’s the off season, he says to Max with a deadpan expression as he waves goodbye.

Max is pissed, of course. What the fuck was Rupert thinking, making a four time world champion F1 driver, multimillionaire, and just general degenerate gamer train some random goldigger chick? He’s rolling his eyes as he walks into his usual gym, where Rupert had told you to turn up. He’s ready to tell you to fuck off, all Mad Max and all, because no way was he wasting his time-

And then he lays eyes on you, and his heartbeat stutters. In front of him, oblivious to the predatory stares of men around her, is the cutest little thing he’s ever seen. You’re dressed in a matching workout set, tugging at the edge of your tight shorts a little self consciously, looking around with innocent wide doe eyes. Fucking hell, Rupert had most certainly not mentioned his new client had the body of a pornstar, all luscious tits and ass and chubby cheeks, and a face that looked like an angel. Max couldn’t wait to sink his big, bad teeth into the sweet looking lamb who stumbled right into his toned arms.

Smirking devilishly, he introduces himself as your new trainer. You gasp, eyes widening cutely, feeling butterflies swirl in your tummy at the tall, handsome and muscular blonde in front of you. Shall we get started? he murmurs, a gorgeous smile on his face and pretty blue eyes intently locked on you. I have to say, I’m surprised you signed up for such an intensive course, he says in an incredibly attractive, deep Dutch accent. You look like you’re in…great shape, if you don’t mind me saying, he adds, observant gaze flicking down to take in your curves. You flush, not minding the attention at all from such a hot trainer!

That’s so sweet of you to say! You say, blushing cutely and looking down, completely missing how Max’s heated gaze glances down your tight crop top, his taller height perfect to get an eyeful of your tempting cleavage. You tell him that actually, it wasn’t your idea, but your boyfriends’s…he thinks I’m too fat, you say with a pout.

What, Max says with a scowl that he quickly smooths when you peer up anxiously at the sudden spike in his mood. Honey was definitely a better way to win over something as sweet and innocent looking as you than poison. Well, ignore whatever your boyfriend wants. You’re here only for your own fitness and confidence, okay?

You beam up at him, nodding enthusiastically. God, Max couldn’t wait to have you for himself. Your boyfriend sounded like an absolute pathetic loser, telling someone as perfect and beautiful as you to change her body. Doesn’t matter, because it made it all the easier for Max to win you over. And he’d make sure to have his fun while doing it.

He’d started all your regular sessions with him with a good pre workout stretch, of course. Taking you into a side room to shield you from the hungry eyes of the other male gym goers, because only Max deserved to see your pretty body bent over for him. It didn’t stop others from walking past the glass door multiple times to ogle you, much to Max’s annoyance. But you remained clueless, twisting yourself in whatever position Max ordered you too like a good student.

And Max was such a nice instructor. He showered you with praise over the tiniest thing, making you blush up a storm, enjoying his reassuring and comforting voice. He was so different to your mean boyfriend! Max’s large hands settled on your soft body, helping position you perfectly, as he huskily whispered in your ear for you to bend forward, all the way like that, good girl. Can you touch your toes for me?

And when you can’t quite get there, he places a strong hand across your lower back to give you that extra push. His hand sometimes drifts lower, to your plump ass, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he instructs you. You gasp, and when he pretends to be none the wiser and ask you what’s wrong, schatje? in such a gentle tone, calling you darling in Dutch, you shyly stammer that you’re kinda sensitive down there…your boyfriend had said he wasn’t going to touch you until you lost weight!

Max’s brain temporarily short circuits at this information. Your idiotic boyfriend wasn’t fucking you every chance that he got? And judging by the way you’re shyly looking away and rubbing your thighs together, it had been a very long time since you’d been properly handled by anyone. Max would bet his multi story yacht that even when you had been sleeping with your boyfriend, he wasn’t making you cum. Leaving you so sexually frustrated that Max just feeling up your lush ass was getting you all hot and bothered. How cute, the Dutchman thinks, unable to hide the devious grin on his face at the new information.

He guided you back into position, his strong hips digging into yours from the back. The full wall mirror in front of you given Max a delicious view of your tits practically spilling out of your top as you lean forward. Good thing your ass is so fat he can easily hide his impressive semi erection behind it, he thinks cheekily. He can’t resist leaning forward and grinding himself against you, just for a second, leaving you gasping and looking behind you with a confused expression - only to find Max innocently looking at you. Something wrong, schatje? he says so sweetly that you feel embarrassed for even wondering what he was doing behind you.

He’ll have to do something about all the hungry states from the other gym goers though - he can’t have them even thinking about something which belongs to him. He glares at anyone who dares look at you through the glass doors, but he needs a more permanent solution.

So for the next session he invites you to his house, where he has a mini gym on his penthouse balcony. You’re unsure at first, but after Max tells you it’s just so hard for him to focus on your sessions at the gym, with the way everyone is always asking him for an autograph or a selfie…you say yes immediately, because you’d never want to make it harder for him when he’d been such a caring trainer! Soon enough he has you all to himself in his outdoor gym, wearing another one of your cute workout sets. Except he wanted to see more of your pretty body, so the next day he hands you a PR package - asking if you wanted to try on the gift from one of his sponsors. You beam at his thoughtful gesture, quickly getting changed into the slutty outfit he’s hand selected.

Max smirks wickedly as he helps stretch you out again, this time with your thighs bent up almost to your flushed face. The blue booty shorts are so tiny they’re practically underwear, slipping into your tanned asscheeks and giving you a cameltoe, much to your embarrassment. You squirm as Max’s keen gaze goes right to your pussy brushing up against his abs - separated only by a thin layer of spandex. Because of course, Max worked out shirtless at home - it’s far too warm! Getting better but still not flexible enough, sweetheart Max says with a disapproving tone that has you scrambling for his approval. Here, let me help you.

He pushes down on your thighs with his huge hands. Your tits almost spill out of the tiny cropped singlet he has you in when he buries his face into them. M-Max! you stammer, asking what he was doing, was it really needed, but he just reassures you that it absolutely was. After all, you didn’t want to pull a muscle and stop being able to exercise for two weeks, right? His deep voice is muffled against your plush tits as he pressed in deeper, making you squirm some more when his lips brush against your hard nipples.

He helps you cool down afterwards too, like the dedicated coach he is. You’re so grateful for all the deep muscle relaxation techniques he knows, moaning blissfully as you lay sprawled underneath him as he massages your sore body. He started with your legs and arms, and then your tense abs, and then one strong palm squeezing your lush tits and the other cupping your pussy through your sports set. You were always embarrassingly wet after your workouts, with all the close proximity to Max, and prayed he didn’t notice how soaked your shorts had become as he rubbed his palm encouragingly against your cunny. You couldn’t stop the contended moans as you arched into his skilled hands, finding the tension draining from your muscles completely.

Soon you’re over at Max’s everyday, working out longer and longer. To your delight, Max asks if you’d mind helping him with his workout! You’re so eager to return the favour after he’s been so considerate, taking time out of his busy schedule just to train you. All you had to do was sit on his back as he did push ups-

You insist that there was no way he could do that, you were way too heavy, what if he hurt himself? All it takes is one cocky smirk from him to convince you, and you climb onto his back, gasping in amazement as his muscular back flexes when he easily starts during push ups. You’re completely distracted by how attractive he looks, so much more broader and stronger than your own boyfriend who couldn’t even lift you up! You feel a bit guilty thinking that but don’t get time to think about it - because next you’re helping Max with his hip thrusts. You squeal as his impressive legs thrust you into the air with a bounce, making your sensitive pussy land on his rock hard cock each time. You stabilise yourself with hands on his abs, running over the taut, sweaty muscle, so enamoured with the sight that you don’t notice Max’s blue gaze fixed on your jiggling tits with each bounce. Mmmh-Ah! H-how many more do you have to do, Max? you say breathlessly, feeling yourself start to get more and more turned on with each thrust of his hips. You felt so dirty, practically dripping through your booty shorts onto his lower abs, feeling all horny while he was just trying to work out!

Just a few more, he says vaguely, grasping onto your thick asscheeks to steady you as he continues meanly grinding his angry, hard cock into your soft cunny. You end up cumming through your shorts, desperately biting down on your lips to keep silent but failing to suppress your slutty moans. You were so cute and naive that you had no clue Max was just dry jumping you to orgasm. Training your perfect body to respond to his, just how he wanted it.

He left you in your post orgasmic bliss on his outdoor couch to cool down as he ventured inside. He’d been planning on jerking off his raging erection in the shower, not wanting to scare you off with his impressive load. But when he caught sight of the protein powder on his kitchen counter top, he couldn’t resist. All it took was a couple pumps and the image of you riding him with your bouncing tits for him to cum, filling a good half of the glass he tops off with a protein smoothie. When he hands you his homemade drink, you thank him with wide doe eyes. You’re such a thoughtful trainer, Max! you say sincerely, eagerly drinking his gift. Mmmh, it tastes amazing, what ingredients did you use? He winks and tells you it’s a top secret world class athlete recipe.

Max is completely addicted to feeding you his thick load and has you equally addicted, asking shyly if he’d make you another one of his smoothies after each session. He figured he has you enamoured enough with him to take things to the next level when you start asking for seconds. The thing is, schatje, since I eat so much protein and supplements, my sperm is super high in nutrients…but it’s not safe for you to take so much protein directly as a girl! So that’s why I had to put it in your drink, okay? You nod with wide eyes, your jaw dropped open in shock as Max unties his shorts to show you his huge swollen cock that’s been feeding you for days. You dazedly ask if maybe you should be getting “fed” from your boyfriend instead, you weren’t sure if he’d be mad if he found out-

Max cuts off your worries immediately, promising you that only his cum would be able to provide you with what you needed. In fact, you shouldn't be going anywhere near your boyfriend's weak release. You nod quickly, wanting to show Max what a good student you were, completely willing to obey him. And when he asks if you'd help him out in making your smoothie today, since his hand was kinda tired after so many days, you eagerly say yes! Soon you're snuggled up by his side, letting him guide both your hands up and down his cock. You're in awe of how big and hot his shaft looks, you'd never seen one that size. You swallow back drool in your mouth, already craving your daily treat, and when Max slyly suggests that you could just drink directly from the source? you're on him in seconds. Dutifully sucking and jerking him off, making him hiss and grab your hair as he thrusts in deep and cums with a deep moan. He makes you stick out your tongue afterwards to make sure you didn't waste even a drop.

Good girl. Let's do your cool down massage in the shower today, hmm? It's so fucking hot out. Max's praise fills you with heady warmth and you giddily agree, letting him guide you into his luxurious shower to cool down, stripping out of your skimpy workout set.

Too bad you ended up doing a lot more cardio than cooling down behind the steamed glass. Max grins devilishly as you both watch his cock go in and out of your creamy pussy together, every thrust making you scream his name and hold onto him desperately. After all, fucking up against the bathroom wall was a much more effective workout, right?

[kxsagi]

blue lock boys with an idol s/o and how would they feel with their girlfriend being shipped with another male idol when they're dating secretly

(back from my hellish exams 🤩)

- 🪻

“𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞”

a/n: welcome back!!! here's a little reward for completing those hellish exams 😍

ft. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, reo mikage, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, chigiri hyoma, kaiser michael (i’m sorry if i’m missing any characters!)

𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐲𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 - “𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞”

while you’re showing him a new music video featuring you and your male idol co-star, your boyfriend’s arms are crossed, wearing the most unimpressed expression known to mankind.

➝ “his voice is kinda pitchy,” he randomly comments, despite having no musical knowledge whatsoever.

➝ you squint at him, unimpressed. “babe, that’s literally a pre-recorded track.”

but he’s already moved on, subtly muttering, “his outfit’s kinda mid too,” just to cope. 

𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 - “𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦”

you nervously introduce your boyfriend to your co-star at an exclusive event. your boyfriend, calm and composed, offers the briefest nod possible before he proceeds to talk over the guy every time he tries to say something. if the male idol comments on your vocals, your boyfriend suddenly remembers a “crazy goal” he scored last season and loudly retells the story, making sure you’re paying attention.

➝ “huh? what was that? sorry, i didn’t catch what you said,” he says with a fake polite smile, despite hearing the guy perfectly fine.

𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐨 - “𝐛𝐮𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭”

your boyfriend is scrolling through his feed when he comes across a high-quality, cinematic edit of you and your male idol co-star looking way too good together. the caption reads: “power couple energy 💫” and it has millions of likes.

he doesn’t say a word about it, but two days later, you randomly receive a diamond bracelet with a tiny soccer ball charm. when you confront him, he shrugs nonchalantly.

➝ “what? can’t spoil my girl?”

but you know the ship edit is still living rent-free in his head.

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐞 - “𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨-𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲”

after your male idol co-star posts a behind-the-scenes photo of you two laughing together, your boyfriend suddenly becomes a lot more… active on social media.

he casually drops a photo dump with you in it. not too obvious, just little things like your hand in the corner of a pic or your reflection in his sunglasses. but his die-hard fans know.

➝ “wait… is that a girl in his pic? 👀”

➝ “the same nail color as [your name]’s recent live…?”

he smirks at the comments, satisfied.

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐫𝐢𝐧 - “𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭”

your boyfriend doesn’t say anything when he stumbles across a viral ship edit of you and your male idol co-star looking all lovey-dovey. he just calmly puts his phone down and heads straight to his gym.

suddenly, he’s doing way too many reps, shirtless, with his jaw clenched and veins popping like he’s training for the world cup. his music is blasting obnoxiously loud and he’s muttering curses under his breath every time he slams the weights down.

when you come to check on him, he’s drenched in sweat, chest heaving. you raise a brow.

➝ “everything okay?”

he wipes his face with his shirt, exposing his abs. “yeah. just… thinking.”

about what? definitely not the ship edit he saw. 

BONUS: 

after seeing another viral ship edit of you and your male idol co-star, your boyfriend casually posts a gym selfie with his shirt off. his toned abs and veiny arms are on full display, the sweat glistening perfectly under the light. the caption? “feeling good 🤍” with absolutely no context. it immediately gains traction, his comment section flooded with fans thirsting over him. you instantly know why he posted it.

➝ “oh, you’re sooo subtle,” you tease, and he just shrugs with a smug smirk, checking his like count.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐢 𝐡𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐚 - “𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬”

during a post-match interview, your boyfriend is being his usual composed self until the reporter mentions a popular couple collab between you and your male idol co-star. the reporter grins.

➝ “their chemistry is crazy, huh?”

your boyfriend’s jaw ticks almost imperceptibly. but then, with the most neutral tone ever, he shrugs and says:

➝ “yeah, i guess. it’s called acting.”

the internet goes feral dissecting that clip. 

𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 - “𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞”

you’re casually chatting with your fans on a livestream when your boyfriend, who knows he shouldn’t, suddenly strolls into the room in his sweats, shirtless, with his hair still damp from a shower.

you glare at him off-camera, but he conveniently “forgets” you’re live, walking right into the frame with a lazy yawn and stretching his arms, showing off his toned abs.

the chat goes insane.

➝ “wait… WHO IS THAT?!”

➝ “omg her boyfriend?!!!”

➝ “ISN’T THAT MICHAEL KAISER THE SOCCER PLAYER”

you quickly end the live, shooting him a glare.

➝ “seriously?”

he shrugs with a sly smirk.

➝ “what? i just couldn’t take it anymore. the world needs to know you’re mine.”

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[goldfades]

MORE CONTROVERSIALLY YOUNG GF X SID

ive been having the worst insomnia ever so here's a blurb<3

It started with you staring at the ceiling.

The digital clock on the nightstand glowed red in the dark—2:13 AM. Your body was tired, your mind wasn’t. It wasn’t loud thoughts keeping you up, either. Nothing stressful, nothing particularly nagging. Just one of those nights where sleep felt like an impossible task.

Sidney was next to you, fast asleep, breathing slow and steady, one arm draped lazily across your waist. He was always warm, always solid beside you, a grounding weight even in unconsciousness. You swore he could sleep through anything. Planes, loud hotel hallways, your tossing and turning.

The only thing he ever seemed to wake up for was you.

You sighed softly, shifting under the covers, and just as you expected—he stirred. Not much, just a slight shift in his breathing, the faintest tension in his arm before he relaxed again. His grip around you tightened instinctively.

"You okay?" His voice was rough, sleep-heavy.

You bit your lip, feeling a little guilty. "Mmhmm."

Sid’s face was still buried against the pillow, but he made a quiet, unconvinced noise. Then, without opening his eyes, he tugged you closer. You let him, letting your body curve naturally against his, fitting like two puzzle pieces.

His warmth seeped into your skin.

"You’re awake," you murmured.

He hummed, his lips brushing against your hair. "You’re awake," he corrected.

A soft smile tugged at your lips. You pressed your cheek against his chest, closing your eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"Can’t sleep?" he asked, still half-asleep himself.

"Mmm." You inhaled the faint, clean scent of his skin, letting yourself settle. "Just one of those nights."

Sid let out a slow exhale, his hand running absently up and down your back. It was so easy, the way he touched you—not in any deliberate way, not trying to do anything. Just holding you, his palm warm against the curve of your spine, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over your shirt.

For a while, that was enough.

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t empty. It was full of quiet things. His fingers against your skin. His breathing, slow and deep. The occasional shift of his legs under the sheets, brushing against yours.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there like that. But eventually, Sid shifted, pressing his lips lightly against your forehead.

"You want me to tell you a story?" he murmured.

You let out a soft, sleepy laugh. "A story?"

"Yeah," he said, voice still hoarse from sleep. "Something boring. Put you to sleep."

You smiled against his chest. "So you admit you’re boring."

Sid’s hand stilled for half a second before pinching your side lightly, making you squeak. "That’s not what I said."

You giggled, shifting closer, tangling your legs with his. "Okay, okay. Tell me a story."

Sid was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then:

"Did I ever tell you about the worst pre-game meal I ever had?"

You snorted. "That’s the bedtime story you’re going with?"

"You said you wanted boring," he reminded you.

You sighed dramatically. "Fine. Continue."

Sid smirked, but you could hear it in his voice more than you could see it in the dark. "Okay. So, this was early in my career. Rookie season. We had a back-to-back, and the second game was in some small-town rink. Not a lot of food options, so the guys and I found this one restaurant that looked halfway decent."

You hummed, eyes slipping closed as he kept talking.

"It was some mom-and-pop Italian place. Looked nice enough. I order a simple plate of pasta—"

"Simple?" you teased, voice muffled against his chest. "You?"

Sid poked your side again. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

You giggled, nestling closer. "Go on."

"Anyway," he continued, "I take one bite—one bite—and I immediately know something’s off. It’s sweet."

You made a face. "Sweet?"

"Yeah. Like, sugary. Like someone dumped an entire cup of sugar into the marinara sauce. I thought maybe I was imagining it, but then I look around and every guy at the table is making the same face."

You laughed softly. "Did you say something?"

Sid let out a low chuckle. "Nah. We were too polite. Ate the whole thing."

"Ew."

"Yeah."

The silence that followed was heavy with warmth, with the ease of being with someone who just fit into your life.

Sid brushed a hand over your hair. "Feeling sleepy yet?"

You hummed, eyes still closed, fingers toying absently with the fabric of his shirt. "Mmm. Maybe."

Sid made a soft sound of acknowledgment, pressing another absentminded kiss to the top of your head. His arm curled tighter around you, his hand resting at the small of your back.

You exhaled, letting go of whatever it was keeping you awake.

Sidney made everything easier.

The way he just was—warm, steady, solid. The way he didn’t try to fix everything, didn’t ask a million questions, didn’t make a big deal of it. Just held you close and let you exist exactly as you were.

You sighed, tucking yourself further into his chest.

"You’re good at this," you murmured sleepily.

Sid’s voice was soft, full of something you couldn’t quite place. "At what?"

You yawned. "This." You curled your fingers around the fabric of his shirt, as if to emphasize. "Us."

Sid was quiet for a moment. Then, voice barely above a whisper:

"Yeah. I like us."

You barely had the energy to respond, sleep finally pulling you under. But just before you drifted off, you felt Sid press one last kiss to your forehead, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

And just like that, you were asleep.

[pernillecfcw]

@lucybronze - Thank you America , it was real✌🏼until next time…

[paceprompting]

Need a Ride?

written for ‘snowfall’ wc: 1000 # | steddie | rated: g | cw: non archive warnings apply | tags: alternate first meeting, pre-season four, feat. steve harrington's beemer

@steddieholidaydrabbles

He was sending his van right to the dump this time. He meant it.

Stupid engine he’d had to drop all his profits on for the third time crapping out right in the middle of the road. Leaving him to hoof it back to the gas station and hope that Wayne was home from his shift to get the call.

And of course, the snow season had to start today.

Head ducked against the wind, with only his battle vest and leather jacket against the bracing cold and snowflakes that stung his cheeks and nose where it wasn’t covered by his hair. He was just glad that there were streetlights so he wasn’t veering off into nowhere in the dark.

He could barely feel his fingers in his pockets by the time he made it to the station. He was still shivering, so he wasn’t quite at the point of hypothermia, but even dialing the numbers on the pay phone was a bit of a feat in itself.

Eddie put his back to the wind as the phone rang. And rang. Eventually, it rang out.

Wayne must have picked up a double shift. Not unusual, especially this time of year. Honestly, Eddie should have guessed that in the first place and called the plant instead of the trailer.

And he didn’t have enough change for another call. Guess he shouldn’t have stopped to buy that pack of cigarettes. That he’d already opened and smoked one from before his shitty van broke down.

“Fuck,” Eddie hissed, smacking the receiver into the hook.

He could trudge back to the van and settle in for the night. But without heat, he’d be just as well off trying to walk home in the wind and snow. And he wasn’t going to be getting sympathy with how he was dressed for spare change, much less did he have anything to deal to someone who would give him the time of day.

If he didn’t figure this out quick, he was going to get arrested for loitering.

Although…

“Munson?”

He perked up despite himself, recognizing the voice. Even if it wasn’t exactly someone he was elated to have run into at a pretty low point in his day.

Standing there under cover from the wind, the snow fell gently onto Steve Harrington. Of course it did. Settled on his hair and his jacket like powdered sugar on an overly-sweet dessert.

He wasn’t getting gas, pulled over and stood with the driver’s door open. One hand braced on the door and the other on the hood of his car, Steve stared curiously at Eddie. He was actually dressed for the weather, a puffy white and pale blue-striped monstrosity with fur around the hood.

Steve glanced at the rest of the gas station, noticing that his was the only car around.

“What are you doing here?”

Eddie stayed beside the payphone, in the wind and snow, but the farthest he could be from Steve. He’d dealt to him a few times, just weed, really, and only knew Steve by reputation. Last he’d heard, Steve had just dumped his two lackeys, Tommy and Carol and had slung ice cream at the Starcourt Mall until it burst into flames.

Why Harrington could care about him, Eddie had no idea.

“Van broke down,” he answered shortly, shoving his hands in his pockets even though the leather was nearly as cold as the wind. He gave a strained smile. “Stuck here.”

“Phone busted?”

“Out of money.” Eddie cocked his head, feeling bold. “Got fifty cents?”

It’d be enough for another call to the trailer and one to Wayne’s work for safety.

Steve raised both brows, and Eddie blanched. He and Steve were practically strangers, and he’d immediately hit Steve up for money. Even if he was known as the rich kid with parties every week because his parents were never home—Eddie was so far off his radar, he might as well have been gum under his shoe.

“I could give you a ride,” Steve said instead. “Forest Hills, right?”

A ride in the Steve Harrington’s Beemer. Sleek and maroon and drool-worthy.

The girls at school that would have literally slit his throat to be in Eddie’s place.

Eddie’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but he managed to find words and point back at the payphone with his thumb.

“I really just need to call my uncle. He’ll come get me.”

Steve leveled a gaze at him. “And you’ll spend an hour in the snow waiting. I’m not going to leave you out here to freeze.”

Eddie sucked his teeth, staring Steve down. He hated to give Steve the point of being right, but he was starting to lose feeling in his hands and his cheeks were stinging from the wind across his face.

He sighed, wetting his bottom lip. Or tried to, since the wet from his tongue only made his face freeze more.

“Fine,” he said, ducking his head as he trudged toward the Beemer. He didn’t dare stop to double-check with Steve, wincing as he pulled his hand from his pocket to open the door and slide inside.

The inside was immediately ten times warmer, blasting from the fans and Eddie nearly moaned. Until Steve’s door slammed closed and suddenly Eddie was inside Steve Harrington’s car. With Steve Harrington.

“You good, Munson?”

He was staring, he realized only after Steve spoke. If Steve wasn’t apprehensive about letting the school freak into his car, he was sure to be when Eddie acted as though he’d been raised far from civilization.

He forced a hard swallow. “Just surprised this isn’t all some trick. My type doesn’t exactly mesh with your type.”

Steve gave this chuckle, like an inside joke only he had any idea of.

“Right,” he said softly, and Eddie definitely felt as though he was way out of the loop on a new kind of Steve Harrington.

A kind he had a single car ride to figure out.

Part Two

[loveinhawkins]

outside the cruelty of locker rooms

ao3 Written for @steddiemicrofic May 2025 prompt, “delay,” 408 words. Rated G, Missing Scene, pre season 3/season 3, Scoops Ahoy. cw: implied/referenced homophobia

“Hey, Harrington! You dropped something.”

My dignity? Steve thinks, followed more passionately by The hat? Please say it’s the hat, God, I wanna burn that thing.

But turns out it’s just part of the cardboard display that had been dumped outside of the mall—presumably for him to collect, but no-one’s told him or Robin anything, honestly, who the hell even runs this place?

He doubles back, close to the spot where the bus drops people off. Eddie Munson’s on the sidewalk, holding up a speech bubble with the Scoops Ahoy anchor on it: flavors limited—try now, don’t delay!

“Thanks,” Steve says distractedly. He tries to slot the speech bubble back into the display—it’s meant to be coming out the mouth of some Popeye knockoff—but when the words land upside down, he decides he’s not paid enough to care.

“So, did they pass a law,” Eddie says amusedly, “that, like, requires you to be in shorts all the time?”

All things considered, it’s really tame; Steve’s taken much harsher jabs, especially from those in his year, lining up to the ice cream parlor like it’s a zoo attraction, which, Jesus, get a life.

“Dude, get me a free sample,” Mark Lewinsky had demanded, like he hadn’t just been ridiculing Steve to his friends at the entrance.

“Sure,” Steve said flatly. I’ll even throw in a punch to the face, too.

He sets the display aside to tug at his sailor collar. “Nah, I designed this. And since when do I wear shorts all the time, Munson?”

“Uh, every single gym class? It was a year round event, man.”

Eddie looks embarrassed even before he’s finished speaking, like he already regrets saying it. He’s also wearing shorts—it’s too hot to be wearing anything else—and a t-shirt, faded with age. The clothes are vaguely familiar, and when Eddie leans against the brick wall, arms folded, covering up bare skin—self-defence disguised as nonchalance—it recalls gym in another way, the self-consciousness that only breeds within the cruelty of locker rooms.

God, it’s bullshit. Fuck anyone, Steve thinks with a sudden fervour, who made you feel like—

“The shorts are better than this damn hat, dude. It’s killing my best feature.”

Eddie snorts. “Nice to see your modesty is alive and well.”

Point to Munson, Steve concedes, but as Eddie’s arms relax just a little, can’t help thinking, Point to me, like he’s just won a game he didn’t really know he was playing.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiemicrofic & @steddiesportsau.

Left to Rot

April Microfic Prompt: Score & Sports AU Prompt: Sports Injury | Word Count: 351 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Recreational Drug Mention | Tags: Pre-Steddie, Canon Divergence Set After S2, Banter, Steve's Hurt And All He Got Was This Lousy Cellmate

This fucking sucks. 

Steve has his knee propped up in a chair in the ISS room, pillow under his calf. He's been left to rot in here. Torn ACL, basketball season over. Probably baseball and track, too. Senior year, ruined. If that wasn't bad enough, now he feels like he's being punished. He can't get upstairs, not on crutches, not with this big fucking brace. So, he's stuck down here. It's not like they had a lot of other places to put him. He didn't want to sit in the main office with Ms. Arlene.

But still.

Dumped with the in-school suspension kids is such bullshit. He didn't do anything wrong, he just got hurt.

Ms. Gordon is never in here either, always off yapping in the hall, and so far there have been no other students besides Eddie "The Freak" Munson, who flunked last year.

"What are you in for?" Steve asks, desperate for someone, anyone, to talk to. He's going stir-crazy.

"Wouldn't you like to know, Harrington?" Munson snaps, continuing to draw in his notebook.

"C'mon. I'll tell you," Steve wheedles.

"I already know why you're in here. Your knee is made of fine china, apparently," Eddie snarks.

Steve smirks, winding up.

"You calling me valuable, Munson?" Steve teases, happy when the blush creeps up Eddie's neck, unbidden. Serves him right. 

Rumors are abundant about Eddie. Of course they are, it's Hawkins and high school. There's no chance of escaping that.

"Tell me a secret and I'll tell you why I'm stuck with you, Harrington."

"There are monsters under Hawkins," Steve easily admits, and Eddie laughs.

"Yeah, and I'm gonna get an A on my quiz in Ms. O'Donnell's later. Sure."

Steve laughs. He was honest. It's not his fault if Eddie doesn't believe him.

Eventually, Eddie looks back up from drawing. Brown eyes that somehow look kind under the bluster.

"Your buddy Hagan wanted to score some weed. Got caught. Said he got it from me. They got no proof, but punished me anyway."

"Not my friend anymore," Steve says, then asks, "Well? Did he?"

"Duh," Eddie laughs. 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for these challenges, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and @steddiesportsau to follow along with the fun!

[forelsketparadise]

[buddierecs]

fake dating buddie fics

all mature rating!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

keeping score by: arcanaphora "after getting dumped, buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. all's fair in love, war, and trivia" word count: 23k important tags: cruise ships, fake marriage, mutual pining, gay disaster!eddie diaz, first kiss, making out 'cause we belong together now by: smilingbuckley "on a call, buck and eddie meet an adorable little girl that they fall in love with and want to adopt. the only problem? they're not together romantically..." word count: 68k important tags: kid fic, marriage of convenience, slow burn, friends to lovers, getting together, soft!buddie, miscommunication burn the straw house down by: rarakiplin "buck gets stuck in time, has a break down and then, relatedly, a break through" word count: 40k important tags: time loop, angst, car accidents, happy ending all i can see (is you) by: trippedandfell "buck and eddie agree to fake date to win a reality tv show. it goes... well, pretty much exactly how you'd expect." word count: 21k important tags: reality show au, mutual pining, idiots in love, only one bed, gay disaster!eddie diaz for a holiday (and forevermore) by: wikiangela "eddie's sick of personal, intrusive questions about his love life whenever he visits his family, so he starts bringing buck for the holidays as his (fake) boyfriend. he only wants to shut them up, and doesn't expect that the small crush he has on his best friend could actually turn into something more..." word count: 94k important tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, sharing a bed, pre-relationship, soft!buddie, family feels, fluff, pining little lies by: david3096 "chris tells a lie at school and now eddie and buck must give a talk about love and work pretending to be fiances." word count: 62k important tags: idiots in love, mutual pining, christopher diaz is a national treasure, fluff you and tequila make me crazy by: cranberrymoons "in which buck and eddie lose chimney because they're drunk and horny" word count: 1.5k important tags: drunken flirting, season 7, sexual tension, pre-relationship fireflies where my caution should be by: littlesnowpea ".....“there are people on the porch,” eddie says, voice even. “saying they want to meet their grandchild.”" word count: 13k important tags: TW: past child abuse, fake marriage, hurt!evan buckley, emotional hurt/comfort, self-esteem issues, protective!eddie diaz what if i fall in love backwards by: redridingstiles "five times buck and eddie saved each other by pretending to be together and the one time christopher helps" word count: 9.8k important tags: 5+1 things, best friends, protective!buddie, teasing, homophobia, marriage proposal i'd never let you fall and break your heart by: autistic_nightfury "four times buck and eddie pretended to be in a relationship so people wouldn't bother them, and the one time they actually were together" word count: 5.8k important tags: 4+1 things, friends to lovers, holding hands, forehead kissies, getting together, mild smut

[writing-mlm]

would you ever write a bottom dean winchester (saying this with earlier seasons Dean in mind, pre castiel) x male reader? I think your take on that would be wonderful!

if you don't, then different request. Dean's (again, saying this with earlier seasons Dean in mind, possibly pre show Dean of you think that's more fitting, but can be any Dean) more bitchy than usual and its obvious his upset about something but his too stubborn to say what about (to the reader) so now you (the reader) have to find out. it can be pure angst or angsty smut, ect, whatever you thinks fitting.

Baby Issues

Summary: Dean’s been in a mood for a couple of days but you’re not going to pull teeth trying to figure out why. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Male!reader word count: 2k tags/warning: cigarettes, dean drinking, cursing, light arguments, issues get resolved in the end, though, I haven’t seen SPN in a hot minute, there's an apology if you squint and step back and dont think too much about it a/n: ngl I hate fics where the guy is being so rude and the mc just like takes it??? like omfg, why are you running away crying also the original plot did have smut but I haven’t been in a smut mood, part two when I am :3

Dean is a prideful man, everyone who’s met him for longer than thirty seconds can agree on that one thing. He’s Dean frickin’ Winchester and he was going to hunt monsters and do whatever the fuck he wants. And you like that about him, sure he’s cocky and sometimes he really fucking gets on your nerves but that’s just Dean. 

Whatever the fuck this was, isn’t Dean, though. 

He’s sucking his teeth and barely giving you responses as you prepare for a hunt. Some bullshit ghost you don’t even care about because your idiot boyfriend won’t admit something is wrong. He’s not being reckless, though. He snatches your gun to check the bullets and he recounts your knives as he always does before entering a hunt— just now it’s done with an attitude that’s working on putting you in a sour mood. 

“Dean,” Your voice cuts over the sound of the extremely loud track blasting through the Impala. An extremely telling track at that. Bon Jovi’s You Give Love a Bad Name. “The fuck is your issue?” You lower the music and he slaps your hand away, pointing his index and middle finger at you as some sort of warning that you just roll your eyes at. 

“My issue?” He echoes. “You’re touching my fuckin’ music for one. It’s my car and I’m driving, I control the goddamn music!” He raises the volume again as if that was the end of the conversation. You suppose it is because you huff and roll down your window, the night air brushes against your face as he drives a little faster than normal. Occasionally you’d hear him muttering under his breath, nothing concrete but it’s definitely irritating.

“Know what?” He asks as he’s opening the trunk to the car. “How about you be the lookout tonight? I think I got this one,” He grabs only his gun and goes to close the hood when you grab it and prop it back open. 

“We never have an outside lookout,” You remind him through gritted teeth. “I’m going on the hunt, dipshit!” Snatching your gun from the trunk, you let him close it. He might be upset but you know better than to do something as precious as slamming the trunk closed. Lord knows he’d go crazy if you did it too hard.

“Dipshit, real mature,” Dean rolls his eyes before he shakes his head. “You’re staying out here. I saw a patrol car on the way to this dump,” He eyes the rundown house for a moment. 

“Why don’t you stay here? That way you and Baby can just drive away if the cops show up,” Walking past him, you slip your gun into your pants and get a hold on the gate that separates the road to the home. It’s not a tall gate by any means, maybe three feet at the most so you’re able to swing your legs over. 

“Don’t say Baby in that tone!” He calls after you, jumping over the gate. “A-and what? You think you can just do the hunt alone?” Stopping, you turn to him and cross your arms. He shifts his stance and copies you, jutting his chin while waiting for you to talk. 

“Yes, the fuck I can. Considering I did it alone before meeting you, Dean.” He huffs and shakes his head, looking away before his eyes return to you. Waiting for a moment to pass, you let him have a turn to speak but he doesn’t say anything. “Whatever, I’m going inside. Do whatever the fuck you want, I guess.”

“I will!” He calls and you roll your eyes at his childishness. 

—

As far as hunts go, it was mostly uneventful. The same old stuff you’re used to and you wrap up nicely. Dean had gone off to find the bones to salt and burn while you dealt with keeping the ghost busy. Once it was over, you counted your bullets and tossed the gun into the trunk before climbing into the backseat. Dean nearly says something, nearly demands you to take your normal seat but he bites his tongue and instead watches as you lay back and toss your jacket over your face. 

You lay there with your arms crossed and face blocked for the entirety of the ride. Not moving until he takes the keys out from Baby and you climb out without saying a word. While sure, you’re mad, Dean notices that you don’t slam the car door like you do with the motel door. 

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, watching as you clean your hands in the kitchenette’s sink. “Cause you’re all pissy and it’s annoying,” If he had just said the first part it would’ve been fine. You would’ve gladly talked about whatever was bothering him that was subsequently making him be a bother to you. But Jesus fucking Christ he just had to add the last part. Hanging your head, you huff through your nose and then shake your head. 

You don’t want to argue. You don’t want to yell. Not tonight and not with Dean.

“Dean, fuck off.” You grumble, digging under your nails to get out the dirt. 

“Oh, so it’s fuck me now?” He tosses his burner phone into the table and then his jacket. Inhaling, you blink and try to just roll it off. He’s just in a mood and he’ll learn soon enough that being an adult means being mature enough to speak. 

Sure, you weren’t doing that yourself but it’s been damn near three days of this. 

“The fuss all ‘cause I wanted you to be lookout this one time.”

“Dean, I’m not dealing with your obtuse shit.” Flicking the faucet off, you turn to face him. He scoffs and circles to the bed, plopping down to take his boots off. 

“Obtuse, I’m not a fucking triangle.”

“No, but you’re being a fucking bitch.” He stops mid shoe unlacing and looks at you. You stare back because you’re doing nothing but telling the truth. 

“I’m the bitch?” He asks. 

“Yes, Dean. Do I need to put it in other words? Bitchy, annoying, bratty, termotulous, a handful, spiteful, tiresome, irritating— I can go on if you’d like!” By now you’re out of the kitchenette and moving into the bed— there’s two because it’s better if one of the beds is shitty. Options. But lately it’s because Dean refuses to share a bed with you. 

“I’m the bitch! Oh my god,” He laughs, taking a hand through his spiked hair before he starts to lace his boots again. “You ask for once fuckin’ thing.”

“Oh my fucking god, I can’t do this with you right now. I’m going for a smoke,” Snatching your pack of cigarettes from the table, you grab your coat before heading to the door. 

“Yeah, you do that. I need a drink,” As the door slams shut he takes a long sip from his beer, listening to the shitty motel decor rattle against the wall. 

Outside you’re not far from the motel. You’re in the parking lot with your back to the motel door, sitting on a concrete block that was supposed to house bushes but no one’s been tending to them so they've since died. Your eyes flicker across the property as your cigarette burns between your lips. There are maybe three other cars in the lot; a truck and two cars that leave as soon as you spot them. 

Flicking the ash from the cigarette, you shake your head before putting it back to your lips. It feels like you’re a teenager again, grasping at straws with a shitty boyfriend because he doesn’t know how to talk. How you’ve gotten stuck in this nasty cycle is behind you. 

You care about Dean, of course you do. You wouldn’t have given up your full-time office job to commit to hunting on the road if you weren’t crazy about him. And you know how he is, you understand that he doesn’t deal with conflict as easily as others do, but sometimes you’re just tired of being understanding. 

Sighing, you take a long drag from the cigarette and try to remember anything that would’ve set him off in recent days. He was in an amazing mood from what you remember, you’d visited Bobby and his dad had left for some hunting trip. Baby had just gotten some new coating and detailing, something that hasn’t happened in a while. And then… downhill from there. 

“You got a spare cigarette?” A woman asks as she sits next to you. You don’t welcome her to the spot or even look at her. You open your pack and extend it towards her, though. “Thanks,” Nodding, she uses her own lighter to light it and you continue staring at the car. 

Maybe he was upset about the case. It was a pretty long drive from Bobby’s. Not to mention incredibly boring. But you’ve been on longer drives and more boring cases. Was it something you did? You don’t remember doing anything out of the ordinary. 

“Which car is yours?” The woman asks, and you blink away from the car and over at her. Looking back at the cars, you sit up straight. 

“The impala, she’s my boyfriend's car.” You explain. 

“Mm, he has good taste,” She nods and you nod back, now smiling. 

“He takes such good care of that car. Better than he does himself. He does all the work alone, too. Doesn’t trust a mechanic to work on Baby and look at her— I dunno what’s the word for a cool fucking car but that’s it,” 

“I was talking about you,” She muses, and you snort. “Your boyfriend asleep or something?” She looks across the motel windows, trying to imagine which one is yours.

“Nah, I just don’t like smoking in rooms,” Flicking the cigarette again, she nods and takes her own, the end of the cigarette lighting in a small red flame. In the distance you see a car rolling down the block, the headlights on and a woman sits in the driver's seat with her arm hanging out of the window. 

“My rides here, thanks for the smokes. And tell your boyfriend his car is nice,” She stands and flicks her glasses to the top of her head before starting to walk away. 

“No problem, and yeah,” You watch as she gets into the car, kissing the woman on the cheek before waving at you as the car speeds away.

“You noticed I detailed Baby?” Dean asks and you turn to him, flicking the now small cigarette onto the ground. 

“Yeah, you spent like two whole days on it.” Shrugging, you look back over the impala. “Shit looks good but the wheels are getting worn, I gotta find some new ones for you soon.” He sucks his teeth as he sits next to you, his half empty bottle of beer hanging loosely from his fingers. 

“I…” He pauses and takes a long sip from the beer. “I was pissy ‘cause you hadn’t said anything,” 

“About the detailing?” He nods, unable to look at you and you chuckle. “Babe, I did! You were probably too busy getting your rocks off to notice,” In the dim lights you can see his ears turning a soft red that makes you smile. You should’ve guessed this was about Baby, he doesn’t get worked up about much else aside from that car. 

“What? No you fucking didn’t!” His head snaps to you and he looks you up and down, as if his glare would make you confess that you were lying. Instead, you nod and wave over to the impala. 

“I did! I did a whole walk around Baby and everything, Bobby started saying that she was our third because I kept saying good things. Go ahead and call him,” Rather than taking his phone out, he finishes the bottle and tosses it into the barren flower bed behind the two of you. 

“Whatever, let’s just forget about this,” He stands, wiping his pants and you follow him with your eyes. “Get your ass in our bed ‘cause if you think you’re sleeping in the back of Baby again I’ll shoot you in the head.” He calls from the door. Getting up, you rush behind him, kissing his neck twice.

[seumyo]

☆ミ EUMY an aspiring lawyer who’s pursuing pre-medicine at 8teen.

mirasol at bituin. you’ve found eumy’s journal, where she dumps all of her random thoughts, ideas, and save all of her fav artworks!! don’t worry, this place is a place filled with sfw content, but there would be spoilers . . . watch out for that, please ☆゙ ֶָ requests are OPEN—though please check out the general rules first + wips are under the cut. posts are always during weekdays !!

☆ミ DIRECTORY. so no one gets lost!

main masterlist ┊ rules and guidelines (important) ┊ carrd

☆ミ CONTENT SCHEDULE.

mon and thurs. bnha & atla ┊ tues and fri. twst & jjk ┊ wed. hq & bllk

☆ミ RECENT ENTRIES.

All I Want for Christmas is You (christmas series)

Love in Translation ft. Kuroo Tetsurou (smau series)

Rainy mornings with Bakugou

☆ミ WORKS IN PROGRESS. personal works

Civil Engineer!Bakugou

Falling and Out of Love ; Husband!Nanami

☆ミ WORKS IN PROGRESS. requests

being atsumu’s pr manager!

cheesy kind of love ft. kaminari

the perfect moment to marry the love of your life: bakugou katsuki’s guide

and shouyou! (bf!kenma & hinata who just happened to live with you and your bf)

your stressful exam season stresses out bf!bakugou

holding the flashlight wrong w/ bf!bakugou

warm like home ft. leech twins

nightmares of bakugou dying

soft makeout sesh with husband!bakugou from “bakugou hates the rain” drabble

what midoriya would post on his instagram for you

exes to lovers w/ bakugou

white rabbit and the red tyrant (riddle rosehearts)

fellas grab your ladies if your lady’s fine ft. hq boys

rating nicknames you call him ft. tendou

☆ミ TAGS.

#₊˚𓂃 🍜⸝⸝﹒— rambles

#‹𝟹 𓏲🗒️ꜝֶָ֢ ʾʾ — works

#𓏲ׂ 📮₊˚ʾʾ — messages

my biggest fan nonnie, 🌼

#‹‹📌𖦹 ִ ࣪ ִ ۫ʾʾ — recs

#›! 🎀 ˖ ݁ ˓ ! — art

#◟𖥻🌻៹┊ — eumycore/saves

#¡  % ⊹  🏯  ᨘ໑ — hirono, kubos, figurine talks

#⌗ ┆🥡 ★ ₊ ˚ — games

#₊˚.🏷️ ≡࿔ — moot milestones/events

#⟩⟩ 🗞️ ’’ ★ — queued

#.₊˚🐝✩ ₊˚ — every thing else

#⟩ ₊˚💫⊹ — milestones

#‹ 📓 ⸝⸝ — 1k event

#⊹﹒🌟﹒⌇ — navigation

ᯓ💣🌻.

ᯓ🐦‍⬛🌻.

ᯓ🌑🌻.

ᯓ🐈‍⬛🌻.

SEUMYO © 2024-2025, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[pernillecfcw]

Cats photo dump 💙📸

[paceprompting]

A Morning Coffee Kind of Question

steddie | rated: t | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: pre-season four, getting together, strangers to lovers, fluff with dash of angst

Part One

The bed was too comfortable.

Which was kind of fucked up if he were to look too closely at it. But even all the blankets he could muster and that Wayne could spare were only so much against a mattress with two broken springs and a near-permanent indent from a previous owner and himself.

The mattress he was currently on wasn’t anything like his. He hardly sunk into it, and (as far as he could tell) he was only under one blanket and still warm. This time of year, he’d need at least a comforter and two thinner blankets to ward off the cold in the trailer.

So, while not surprised to find he actually wasn’t in his own bed, there was enough surprise in the fact of whose bed he was in to have him sitting straight up, scowling at the room around him.

All in all, the bedroom was relatively plain. The walls a kind of color you kept so that the house would sell well without repainting, wooden furniture with little to nothing on them except the odd magazine or a trophy. Even the walls were devoid of posters of bikini girls or hotrod cars, no collection of random polaroids stuck up with some care to remember a memory.

Steve’s bedroom hardly felt like more than a set piece.

As though it had been designed before he ever arrived and he wasn’t allowed—or didn’t care—to make it his own.

The only item that had any personality wasn’t even his. It was Eddie’s.

The jacket that Steve had given him as a present was hung off the back of the desk chair, an obvious peculiarity of black amongst the blues and reds of the room. Eddie remembered shucking it off his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor last night.

While they’d kissed.

Made out, really.

He touched his lips as though he could call back the feeling of Steve’s mouth on his own. The confident way he directed them, the scrape of his stubbled against Eddie’s cheek, his throat. The party had gone on for a while without them downstairs, Eddie wasn’t sure when it had ended.

He’d pretty much stopped paying attention to the noise once Steve laid him back on the bed.

Which explained how he’d gotten there, at least.

Still being fully dressed explained the other question.

A soft creak pulled Eddie’s attention toward the door, and he rose up onto his knees in case he needed to book it out the door. He wasn’t exactly going to get the benefit of the doubt if somebody found “The Freak” hanging out in Steve Harrington’s bedroom.

He could at least breathe again when it was just Steve who entered, although he didn’t sit back on the bed.

He was sure he looked an absolute disaster, having just woken up—curls a wild rat’s nest on his head and clothes disheveled from the chaotic way he usually slept.

Steve held a plain green mug in each hand, looking down at them to avoid spillover as he walked carefully across the carpet. He glanced at Eddie, this soft half-smile on his face before he looked back down until he reached the bed.

Setting one mug on the bedside table, he offered the other to Eddie.

Eddie eased back down on the mattress, and reached out with both hands for the mug. It warmed his fingers immediately, the dark liquid inside wobbling as Eddie shifted position. A roasted, bitter smell wafted up to his nose.

“I didn’t know how you liked it. But, um,” Steve reached into the pocket of his sweatpants, pulling out a handful of items he deposited on the bed by Eddie’s knee. A few sugar packets and disposable plastic creamer cups. He patted his thighs and said, “Just in case.”

Eddie lowered the mug to sit in the space between his knees, holding it steady with one hand and using the other to grab all that Steve had offered.

“Good instincts,” he said, shaking first the sugar packets before dumping them into the coffee. As he worked through the creamer cups, he looked at Steve from under his bangs. “The only thing I don’t like in black.”

Eddie took sugar and cream for the same reason he only smoked menthols. He couldn’t stand the bitterness.

Steve let out a breath, shoulders dropping a tension that Eddie had mistaken at first as worry about spilling the drinks. Then, he reached for the other mug and took a seat beside Eddie on his bed.

He drank his coffee while Eddie prepped his own, taking it straight-up apparently with no problem. He didn’t know if it was all part of some special jock diet or if Steve enjoyed battery acid black, but…Eddie supposed choosing to make out with a metalhead probably meant Steve was bound to make other questionable choices.

Eddie sighed as he took his first sip, the warmth of the coffee soothing the morning raspiness of his throat.

Whatever his problems, Steve could make a good cup of coffee.

They sat in the quiet morning, drinking their coffee. Eddie risked a look at Steve; noticed that he had changed at some point in the night into his sweatpants and a Hawkins swim team shirt Eddie wouldn’t have been caught dead in.

Steve finished his first, but sat with it while Eddie continued. Empty, Eddie held his mug awkwardly, unsure of where to put it.

Clearly what he was waiting for, Steve took the mug from Eddie’s hands and reached forward to place both his and Eddie’s on the bedside table. He had to lean over Eddie to do it, which Eddie huffed a breath up toward the ceiling at when he leaned back on his hands.

Steve eased back, but paused before going too far. His nose grazed Eddie’s, hazel brown eyes half-lidded and rooting Eddie to the spot. He tilted his chin up toward Steve, mouth parting.

Maybe the night before had been a dream. He’d drunk too much—even though he didn’t remember drinking anything at all—and rudely passed out in Steve’s bed and somehow the guy was nice enough to leave Eddie until morning.

If it was true, Steve would brush him off. And Eddie would leave.

If it wasn’t…

Steve closed the last distance between them and Eddie could taste the bitter coffee on his tongue as their lips met. They sunk together, Eddie falling back on his elbows and Steve cradling the side of his jaw with one hand.

His thumb rubbed the start of Eddie’s stubble on his cheek. Eddie sighed into it, pressing up for more. For Steve’s tongue slipping past his lips and the low rumble of a groan deep in his chest.

They had to part for breath after a moment, and Steve asked, “Can I take you home?”

Kissing again, a delay neither of them seemed to mind, Eddie let his mind wander. With the last vestiges of Steve’s cologne and the solid weight of his body, Eddie could really only think of him.

I could give you a ride, Steve had said, that first time.

Being a chauffeur was apparently a love language for this guy.

Unlike that night at the gas station, Eddie did have other options. And he didn’t want to think about the pull at the bottom of his stomach the came at the thought.

“I’ve got the van back,” he said, letting his head fall back from Steve’s mouth. It was pink and slightly swollen, and maybe Eddie’s was too. “Thank you, though.”

Steve nodded, his thumb still stroking Eddie’s cheek.

“Can I see you again?”

He’d said as much the night before. Steve wanted Eddie. For some reason.

Eddie clenched his hands in the comforter underneath him. He’d never been quite this unsure about rejecting something. He knew he shouldn’t do this, with Steve. It could only lead to broken hearts. Possibly broken bones.

But all Steve had done already…just to get Eddie’s attention. To hint at what he wanted.

“I don’t know,” he said.

Steve’s gaze on him faltered, eyes flickering downward with his disappointment. They closed too late for Eddie not to have seen it, and Eddie rushed to fix it, to explain himself.

A cute guy gives him a normal amount of attention, and he loses his damn mind. What the hell had happened to him?

“I haven’t done this before. The whole…sticking around in the morning and having breakfast thing.” Steve seemed to ponder that for a second, a hesitant question in the rise of one of his brows. Eddie swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

A warm smile grew across Steve’s face and Eddie soaked it in, closing his eyes as Steve pressed his nose to Eddie’s cheek. “I think you’re doing okay.”

“Steve, please.”

He couldn’t stop the twinge of panic in his voice. He was getting too caught up and he didn’t know how he could wrangle it back and shove it down.

Steve froze. Caught his breath, warm on Eddie’s skin, and then pulled away.

Eddie opened his mouth to apologize for ruining the fucking mood with his hangups. For revealing the mess of a person Steve had tried to falling into bed with, and was probably now entirely regretting.

“It’s okay,” Steve said before Eddie could. “I’m not upset.”

Eddie wasn’t sure he could believe him, but either way Steve slowly extracted himself from Eddie’s personal space and stood from the bed. He tried to hide it by facing away, but Eddie noticed the shift of his arm as Steve adjusted the evidence of their activities in his sweats.

Eddie knew he was the same in his jeans, if they did manage to hide it better. He sat up onto his hands and asked to Steve’s back, “Can I give you an answer later?”

He sounded like a damn customer support line. But Steve finding it in himself to pull away had made Eddie near-frantic to grab onto him and keep him from leaving. He needed to figure all this out.

But he couldn’t do that in the middle of Steve’s bedroom.

Steve turned, his face in profile toward Eddie.

“You’ll call?” he asked, biting his bottom lip.

Eddie let out a breath.

“I’ll call.”

Tag List: @estrellami-1 @here4thetrama @tillystealeaves @th30ra3k3n @fairytalesreality @rabidhungryrat