#steven’s last night in town

[still-alive-mp3]

I love how when you search up “Steven’s last night in town” (the Ben folds five song) the first two videos to show up are both object show edits (one is mine, and the other one is my mutuals edit that you should totally check out :3)

[sunlitglycerin]

i ate a better paella today and drank a lot of sangria and yeah i’ll be okay. sure. i’ll be okay

[themostefficientwaywithwater]

WHAT'S GOING ON IN SPAIN AND HOW YOU CAN HELP even if you live in a different country

Please read!!

Since October 29, Spain has been going through one of the worst flash floods of this century. The Community of Valencia has been the most affected, but the cold drop also passed through the south-west and is moving now to the north-east.

So far, 211 bodies have been found, and more than 2000 people are still missing. Most fatalities are from Valencia, entire towns are ravaged and isolated as they don't have electricity and the roads have been destroyed. A lot of people has lost their home, more than 15k homes don't have eletricity and they are in need of food, water and hygienic products

The reason Valencia was the most affected is because, despite given a warning 5 days before from the AEMET (Spain's official meteorological agency) of the possible mass floodings due to the cold drop, and the same morning of the catastrophe, it's authorities didn't warn it's people. Valencia's government waited 12h after the last warning from the AEMET (and it's president even said it would subside 2h before the floodings) before declaring the red alert, at 8pm. By then, many people was already caught in the flood while going or coming back from work.

Although politicians must be accountable, our priority is to help those in need, most which have lost their house, belongings and means to live. Because of this, here are some fundraisers and non-profits you can donate to help both people and animals that have been affected (these are from the thread I've just posted, but I'll add more if I find them!):

Horta Sud is a county in Valencia that has been the most affected by the floodings. People are leaving their houses because they're scared of the infrastructure getting damaged and even walking by foot to Valencia capital to get food.

Letur (Albacete) is a town that has been destroyed by the floods. You can help rebuild it by donating to this gofundme that's directly coordinated with the town hall.

Hambre Cero is a Spanish food bank non-profit that was founded after the earthquakes in Indonesia. They're currently active in Palestine and Lebanon but they'll also be giving food to those who need it in Spain.

El Refugio de María a dog shelter in Sueca (Valencia), is completely flooded, leaving the dogs visibly distressed and without a proper place to sleep. You can donate to their PayPal: maria.g.may@gmail.com

Protectora San Antón is a shelter for cats and dogs in Jerez de la Frontera. It's flooded and the animals don't have a comfortable place to sleep in. If you live in Spain you can bizum them @ 635011715 If not, PayPal protectorasananton@hotmail.com

Help Sara and her family rebuild their home in Valencia.

Refugio Minipow was home to 50 rabbits and guinea pigs. Thankfully, the owners were able to move all the animals to their homes and those of their neighbors, though the shelter itself has been destroyed right after recent renovations. They accept help through PayPal, Bizum or a transference to their bank account.

Una copa por Valencia ("a drink to Valencia") is a campaign organized by Spanish influencer David Aliagas. The idea behind it is to donate the amount of money you would spend on drinks on a night out. He'll be joining effort with local non-profits.

Help the people of Mira (Cuenca) rebuild their hometown.

This group of artists is giving away drawings to people who donate at least 5€ to any of the fundraisers listed in the thread!!!

You can donate to Valencia's food bank by making a transfer to this bank account: ES86 2100 2806 6402 0009 8998

Thread of artists that are accepting comissions for Valencia:

This artist has been directed by the floodings. He just opened emergency comissions

I'll add more fundraising campaigns I find on Twitter/Bluesky, but until then, please consider helping in any way you can! Even if it's just by sharing!

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

No Nut November - Slash

A/n: This is my personal favourite but that might just be because Slash is my favourite, him and duff... might have to write something with the both of them...

Warnings: Smut, no nut November, oral sex(f receiving), fingering(f receiving), cum eating, slight breeding kink??, if you think I missed anything please let me know otherwise enjoy the final part to this short series :3

Intro

To be honest, he had no idea what the bet was. He tuned everything out and didn’t think twice about it. Axl called him later and told him no fucking before Steven. That made no sense to him and he just went home to go about his time.

When he got home he tried to explain it to you over dinner. Which was hard when he didn’t know what he was talking about in the first place. He managed to get the point across about not having sex for the month of November, you were upset but given the circumstances let it pass. You didn’t want to be missing out on a whole month of sex, however something you hadn’t thought about until the next.

You were downstairs making breakfast, as per usual because your manchild doesn’t know how to cook. Frankly you don’t want him to try, you like your house nice and not burn down. You were getting the plates set up when you remembered you had to go out of town for a family thing.

You rushed upstairs to your shared bedroom and found Slash stretched out over the bed. You gently shook him awake and told him about it. “So even if we wanted to do something we couldn’t!” You exclaimed. Slash stared at you blankly, clearly not awake.

“Alright.” He mumbled and face planted into his pillow. You smiled at him, brushing his hair out of the way and giving him a kiss on his forehead.

“Breakfast is ready, by the way.” He groaned.

You went about your day as you usually did, taking some time to pack your bags. You crawled into bed with Slash and he curled up nice and tight to you for a last night together before you left in the morning, likely before he’d wake up for breakfast.

Since you weren’t home for the majority of the month this challenge was easy for you. Slash called whining about it to you more than once but nothing ever actually happened, more often than not one of you would end up talking the other to sleep which was more than welcomed.

When you got back it was between him and Izzy but that was quick to end. Slash came home tired and hugged you from behind while you were cooking. “Izzy’s out.” He mumbled into the crook of your neck.

“Oh, yeah?” You responded. “That means you’re the only one left, right?” Slash was silent for a moment as he thought about it. In the end he never did give you an answer.

Slash dropped to his knees behind you and pulled your pants down. “When the fuck did you get these?” You looked down at him, cheeks red and brows raised in confusion. Slash shook his head and tore your panties off of you before forcefully spreading your legs and licking your flushed cunt.

You abandoned your cooking, turning the stove off while you could as Slash’s tongue worked tirelessly between your folds. You gasped at the feeling, holding onto the counter as he held you down on his face. He sucked your clit and dipped his tongue into you, eating you up so deliciously you could’ve cum right then and there.

Slash pulled back and stood up behind you, harshly bringing you to the island behind you so he could bend you over it. He pulled himself out of his jeans and gave his cock a few strokes as he stared down at your ass. “Been waiting too long for this.” He gleamed in that soft, raspy voice of his before pushing himself all the way into you.

He groaned loudly behind you while you let out a high pitched whine against the cold marble under you. He didn’t waste a single moment before pounding into you, gripping your hips with a bruising hold.

Oftentimes Slash wasn’t quiet, especially when he was needy or pent up and right now he was both. The house filled with echoed sounds of skin slapping on slick skin, your whines and Slash’s grunts and moans.

Your body bounced up and down the island surface with every thrust. Slash couldn’t take his eyes off of where your bodies met, where he disappeared into you before pulling out and pushing back in. He watched in pure amazement as you took him all in with ease.

“Slash! Slash, ‘m gonna-gonna cum!” You whined, hands twitching as your body quickly lost control of itself.

“Fuck, me too, ‘m gonna cum inside.” He said and with a few more thrusts he sent you over the edge. Your body quivered as you squirt on his dick. Slash followed you over and came inside you, coating your gummy walls in a thick layer of his seed just as he said he would.

Of course he didn’t even think to give you a moment to recuperate. He pulled you up and spun you around to face him, crashing his plump lips against yours. You could still taste yourself on his tongue as it danced with yours, saliva mixing together and dribbling down your chin in his haste to feel good.

He groped your body, ass, chest, whatever he could reach. He pulled you tight to him and tugged on your skin, slapping your ass and shoving a finger or two into you just to make you squirm. He hoisted you up onto the counter, lined himself up and slid into you, getting into a rhythm and hitting that spot in you that had you seeing stars.

Fuck, you loved the way he made you feel. His mouth never left you as he rut into you like a dog, desperate for release once more. He was a whining mess as he got closer, in turn bringing you closer as well.

You moaned loudly in his ear while he sucked on the sensitive skin of your neck. One of his hands was buried in your hair, tugging on it gently, while the other went to rub your clit, overstimulating you a bit.

You gripped his shoulders. Your nails dug into his back and without warning he came in you again. He paused for a moment, cock still stuffed deep inside of you as he processed what just happened. Once he had, at least mostly, he continued fucking you. He’d lost any sense of rhythm and you were sure he was overstimulating himself at this point so you gently pushed him back.

“‘M ok, Slash, don’t have to keep going.” You assured, though you weren’t thrilled with the idea. Slash stopped again and pulled out and went back on his knees. His lips suctioned to yours as he ate you once more, though now he was licking his own cum out of you. He didn’t seem to care, all his mind was set on was making you cum and when his lips latched onto your clit and sucked, his tongue swirling around it while he looked up at you with the sweetest puppy eyes you couldn’t help it.

You squirted on his face, your cum mixing with his as it hit his chin, getting in his mouth. He didn’t pull away until he was sure you were done.

He stood up and wrapped his arms around you, burying his sticky face in the crook of your neck. He pulled you off the counter but your legs were shaking so bad you couldn’t hold yourself up. Slash wasn’t in much better condition and slowly lowered the both of you to the ground so he could hold you properly.

[wheneverfeasible]

🧠🪱Wriggly Wednesday🪱🧠

Thanks for the tag @augustjustice! I was actually just thinking about how I had something for one of these.

So I’ve been reading a lot of historical fic lately, and it really got me wanting to do a royalty au. I don’t have a lot of solid details for it yet, and I don’t know if I’ll ever actually write it as I have a lot on my plate currently, but my basic idea is this:

The kingdom of Hawkins is ruled by a tyrannical king; lazy, prejudiced, and greedy. His queen is beloved by the people for the charity work she does, yet the king never hides the fact that he’s disloyal to her. He doesn’t have to, he’s the king. He doesn’t care if the woman he’s interested in is married or not herself, if he sees her and wants her then he’ll take her and the husband just has to deal with it. It’s almost an honor at this point. (Think very JFK.)

The queen hates it, however, and is just as vicious as her husband, only behind closed doors. She married for the crown, not for love, and her kindness is only a front she puts on for the public. Behind closed doors she is cold and vain and uncaring of the plight of others.

And then they have a son. The prince. He is just as rotten as his father. Lazy, greedy, thinks himself above all others. When he grows bored, he demands a plaything. That’s when the soldiers will sweep the streets and bring him beggars and street urchins and, sometimes, the prince will also demand for a petty criminal to become his plaything instead of being shipped off to slavers or executed. The playthings never seem to last for long, and they’re never seen from again.

One day, Eddie is brought forward as a criminal. It wasn’t actually him, or course, but his father. His father however skipped town and left Eddie to fall in his place. It’s known that Alan Munson was the worst sort of miscreant. A petty thief with a silver tongue that somehow managed to avoid being caught. Until one day he strove for too much and the kingdom was out for his head.

With Al having fled, however, sights turned to his son, Edward. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? Of course not. At least, that’s what everyone says. So Eddie is brought to trial in his father’s stead. Eddie is certain he will be sent off as a slave or worse. Except.

Prince Steven whines that he’s bored, and he doesn’t want to sit through a whole trial. Can’t he just have the criminal as a plaything since his last one broke?

The king grants his son’s request.

Eddie has heard rumors of what sorts of things the prince gets up to with his playthings. According to some, it was a fate worse than death. At least a judgement of death was swift.

Except.

Well, Steve learned how to wear a public mask from the best of the best: his mother. His mask is more extensive, however, because he wears it inside the castle as well. Even his parents believe him to be nothing more than a spoiled, pampered brat. But in truth, it is quite the opposite. And the playthings?

Steve purposely seeks out the destitute, the needy, the ones who one more night out on the street could mean their death, and brings them in. Criminals too, if he knows they’re innocent, or only stole from necessity to survive, or if he believes the punishment far too harsh for their crimes. He takes them in too, as many as he can without his father growing suspicious.

He takes them in, acts for the public like a monster, and only when it’s just him and the “plaything” does he drop the act and let them know the truth. He’s going to get them out. He’s greedy and materialistic to the public because he gives the items away in secret, helping his playthings start a new life elsewhere. He helps them sneak out of the castle and out of the kingdom, if only they promise to leave their old life behind. It is the only way to keep them and those after them safe.

Eddie, of course, believes the worst of the prince, even when Steve’s mask drops alone in his room. He learned long ago not to trust royals. There’s a little bit of enemies-to-friends-to-lovers here then, as Eddie doesn’t trust Steve at first, and also refuses to leave the kingdom without his uncle.

So Eddie and Steve bicker about it, and Steve says fine but Eddie has to play the part of his plaything for the public and his parents, which involves a lot of being caught in compromising positions sometimes to sell it.

Except Eddie starts to grow real feelings when he realizes that Prince Steven really is a good man. Eddie soon has another reason why he doesn’t want to leave the kingdom, even if he believes a prince could never return his feelings.

Plot Possibilities:

- Steve’s last “plaything” was Jonathan. A rare volunteer to be the prince’s plaything in exchange for goods for his poor family. He initially does not trust Steve for a while, but eventually they build a kind of wary friendship.

- Steve was in talks for a betrothal with a noble lady, Nancy. She thought him a cretin as she only knew the mask he wore, while her lady-in-waiting, Barb, would mutter insults about him to her making Nancy have to cover her laughter. Steve heard them and thought they were hilarious, but pretended to be clueless.

- Jonathan sees Nancy and falls in love immediately, making Steve have to figure out a way to get the two of them together without blowing his cover. He eventually succeeds and Steve makes everyone believe Jonathan “broke” and was discarded when on reality he helped smuggle him out with Nancy’s entourage when the betrothal talks fell through and she returned to her land.

- Steve still anonymously takes care of Jonathan’s family like he promised he would, the only way Jonathan would leave with Nancy.

- Robin was originally given to Steve as a tribute, the daughter of an enemy soldier, and Steve keeps her as a plaything for a while (she attacks him the first night before he can explain the truth) and when she “breaks” he shortly thereafter obtains a new servant who looks remarkably like her, named “Rob”.

- During one of the times Steve is manhandling Eddie in public to keep up the act, Eddie gets a very ill-timed boner at the fake threat Steve growls at him, finding out the hard (pun not intended) way that maybe he might like some of the things evil Prince Steven is supposed to be doing to him.

- Eddie seduces Steve realizing the man would never force himself on Eddie. They try out some of things Prince Steven threatened him with and eventually Steve can make his mask’s threats seem far more genuine when Eddie follows him with bruises and a stiff gait afterwards. (Eddie loves every second of it.)

- A minor nobility cannot pay taxes so the king takes his young daughter for his son as payment and to humiliate the noble as a lesson for others. Her name is Chrissy.

- Robin is instantly smitten with Chrissy. The feeling is swiftly mutual once Chrissy realizes “Rob” is a woman.

- something something something

- Steve’s parents die/are murdered/are executed/idk

- Steve is made king and people are wary at first expecting him to be like his father. He can finally drop his mask and it’s revealed that all the good things people thought was his mom was actually him doing it.

- One of the first orders of business he does is grant Rob a title of nobility for loyal service and saving his life (stripping another noble of their title for their disloyalty/treason?).

- Steve tells Rob “he” can have any one wish of his granted. Rob asks for Steve’s concubine Chrissy as his wife (as per previously plotted by the three of them) and Steve grants it.

- Steve frees Eddie from his bondage, expecting Eddie to leave and never look back. He tries not to show how much that hurts.

- Eddie stays. Obviously.

- They go to bed with a bit of role reversal. Steve loves every second of it.

- Steve remains a bachelor king with a questionably close friendship with one of his advisors that the people of the kingdom knowingly smirk about but support because he’s an amazing king who always takes care of his people.

- Steve appoints his heir as this loudmouth whippersnapper with an attitude he takes under his wing for whatever reason. He questions his sanity every day after.

- Years later, King Dustin and Queen Suzie rule the land following in his predecessor’s footsteps; with care, humility, and equal justice for all.

~

(No pressure) Hostage Hotties: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife @everywherenothere

Other no pressure tags: @steddiecameraroll @mundaneone @endlessmusings1801 @stervrucht @hotluncheddie @eddiethebrave

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Gen Words: 2.8K~ Summary: Not too long after making peace with Homeworld and sparking the start of Era 3, Steven wakes up one morning to discover some... notable changes about himself.

AKA: The one where Steven finally hits his growth-spurt. All at once. Because of course the half-Gem kid could never experience such a human thing like puberty in a "normal" way.

[Part 1 of 2]

Just a few seconds later, knuckles rap against the door in answer to his perturbed cry. 

“Yo Steve-o, that you in there?” Amethyst calls. 

“Y-yeah?” he stammers. His brows threading inwards, he delicately runs his fingers over the ridge upon his throat, very much thrown off by the distinctly lower tenor of the sound coming from his own mouth. He swallows hard, pushing himself to speak again. Come on Steven, he berates himself, think of something lighthearted. This doesn’t have to be a bad thing. No need to completely freak out over this yet. “Who else would I be? It’s not like the whole town uses this bathroom…”

“I mean, I do sometimes. For fun.”

“Okay, fair point, but—”

“Dude, what’s wrong with your voice? Are you like, sick or somethin’?��

“No, it’s just—” 

He squeezes his eyes shut, blocking out all the nebulous, spinning distractions of his mind and the world beyond. Deep breath. It’s okay. Tons of things about his form may be entirely different right now, but like… he seems fine. Right?? Nothing about his body feels tangibly wrong like it did when he willfully stretched himself out on his 14th birthday, or when he changed all his fingers into cats, or when he lost all control of his aging and morphed into an anciently old man and almost died, it’s just… 

New.

New and wholly unfamiliar.

So what now? How can he bravely move forward with all this? What does he need to know? 

“Have, uh… have you ever shapeshifted by accident in your sleep?”

“Not that I‘m aware of,” she says, and he can practically hear the shrug in her tone. “Shapeshifting is a conscious thing you do. It’s a choice, y’know? It doesn’t just happen.”

A good long moment passes as he drinks this information in. He runs his hand through the short curls at the back of his neck as he stands there in the pair of too-small banana yellow pajamas he fit in just fine last night, musing.

“Huh… I guess that makes things pretty simple, then.”

“What d’ya’—”

“Amethyst, I think I’m finally older,” he says, still absolutely mystified by this prospect as he gawks at himself in the mirror. 

She gives a fond laugh. “Ch’a, right? You get older everyday, bud. Wild.”

“No, I mean I’m actually, physically older! Look!”

Steven whirls around and swings the bathroom door wide open to show her. Amethyst’s jaw drops.

“Whoa—! Dude!”

Chuckling nervously, he steps a few feet out, wriggling his bare toes against the wood floor. “I know, right?”

“What the heck, you weren’t kidding!” Before he can even move to say anything else, she spins on her heels and cups her mouth with her hands, hollering towards the temple door. “HEY, PEARL! GARNET! You gotta get out here and see this!”

His brows shoot towards his hairline, his heart hammering in his chest all the while at the thought of all the dumb show-and-tell he’s gonna have to deal with now. “Aww, come on, did you really have to—”

“Amethyst!” Pearl cries, scrambling through the still opening gap in the doorway with Garnet striding mere steps behind. She summons her spear from her gem and swings it to fighting stance with an artful flourish. “What happened? Where’s the threat? What do you need us for??”

Steven darts towards them, hands held up in a placating plea.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! There’s no danger! We’re fine. I just—”

“Oh, my stars—!” she gasps, allowing her spear to dissipate in a glittery flicker of light. “You’ve grown!”

“Nice look, Steven,” Garnet nods, a supportive smile gracing her lips.

“And you’re sure this is real this time? You’re not—?”

“No, no, I’m not stretching myself out, I promise. I just woke up like this.”

“B-but—” Pearl taps her fingers against her chin, appearing thoroughly puzzled— “I thought humans were supposed to age gradually, not all at once.”

Steven’s shoulders slump. “Well… that’s what I assumed too, but—”

“Come, sit with me,” Garnet says, walking around the warp pad to enter the living room. She sets herself down on the couch, patting the cushion in open invitation.

With a heavy, far too weary for his age sigh, Steven shoves his hands in the pockets of his too-small banana pajamas and plods his way over. The rest of the Gems follow suit. He settles himself right next to Garnet, with Pearl perched opposite to her and Amethyst happily lounging on the floor, leaning on the coffee table with her elbows. 

“Steven’s aging hasn’t aligned with the norms of humanity for a very long time,” she observes, a glint of morning sun that’s beaming through the window catching on the edge on the edge of her star shaped visor. Then, turning to him: “I’m curious why you think this is.”

He hums, considering all the chaotic happenings of the past few years. Despite the rare query she poses, he gets the sense that… in her vast wisdom… she already knows the answer. Or at least, a small sum of it. It should be noted that her future vision— as far-reaching as it otherwise is with the vast possibilities of existence— can’t ever touch any knowledge that she won’t be conscious for or present to receive, let alone retroactively scry into the past.

(And honestly? Thank goodness for that.)

“I’m not sure,” he says, a half-lie.

He can think of one reason he might’ve started aging again. Though, it’s not something he’s ready to talk to the Gems about yet. It’s… far too delicate a topic to risk bringing up so soon after the start of peaceful Era 3. But after spending a whole childhood being constantly compared to and mistaken as various versions of his mom… let’s just say, having his gem torn from his body and getting to see it reform into a version of himself (and not her) was simultaneously the worst and the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him. While undeniably traumatic, this experience served as the ultimate proof that he doesn’t have to waste another second of his existence chewing away at some burgeoning identity crisis, that he can live his life however he wants. As Steven. Not as Rose, or Pink Diamond, just… Steven.

He’s not exactly sure how all this mental weirdness translates into him staying stuck looking like a little kid for like… six or so years, but after he returned home from his latest escapade on Homeworld, he could sense that— despite all the messed up stuff he and Connie went through— his spirit was lighter, somehow.

So maybe, he thinks, he simply had to peel away at all the damaged layers of his identity to ready himself to move on to the next stage of his life. Maybe he had to stare death in the eye and pass through the heart of the storm in spite of all these hardships before he could piece the foundational truths of his story back together and learn to finally live again.

To start shifting his hopeful gaze towards the dawn of their bright, sunny future…

“I mean, I always kinda thought he stopped aging because we never did,” Amethyst says then, laying her cheek on the table. “Like, it happened around the time you moved in with us, yeah?”

He purses his lips, scanning his memory. “Uh… I think so? It might have been a year before. Two, even. But I was definitely hanging out with y’all a lot by then.”

She leans over and playfully slugs him in the arm.

“See, there you go! You always wanted to be just like us when you were a kid, so much that you even wore that same ol’ star shirt every day to match ours, ha! You must’ve wanted to be a Gem so badly that you subconsciously stopped becoming older at all.”

“That’s actually a pretty solid theory, Amethyst,” Pearl chimes in. “Good thinking!”

“We have seen you shift your form in response to your perception of others around you,” Garnet says with a nod. “This has caused you to temporarily age and shapeshift in the past, but for you to age in a stable way now, your perception of self must have stabilized, too. I’m very happy for you, Steven.”

She tousles his mess of curls with her gold ringed hand, a welcome little offering of affection that he eagerly leans into.

And then, out of nowhere, Amethyst starts cackling.

“Dude,” she blurts out between her peels of laughter, nudging his foot with her elbow, “I just realized— Greg’s gonna totally lose his shit when he sees this…”

Pearl’s expression scrunches inwards with prickly displeasure. “Language!” 

“What, it’s true!”

He waves Amethyst’s comment off. “Pshhh, my dad’s seen way weirder,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Like, did I ever tell y’guys how the cat fingers incident ended?”

“No!” the quartz exclaims with intensive fervor, and leans forward in anticipation. “Gimme the juicy deets, m’man!”

Garnet adjusts her visor then, her features falling into a dutiful line. “Speaking of Greg… story time can wait until later. Steven— if you want to see your father this morning, you need to head over there now… or there’s a good chance he’ll fall back asleep until one and you’ll miss your window.”

Amethyst’s lips fall into a pout as she slumps back against the foot of the couch, her arms crossed. “Awww, phooey. Spoil sport.”

He swallows a grimace as he internalizes Garnet’s prediction. Yeah, that sounds about right. That’s become a bad habit for his old man lately, staying up super late and then sleeping in almost half the day on weekends. Ever since he received that ten million dollar residues check it’s nothing that can hinder his financials anymore, thank goodness, but then again…

“Yeah… I should probably go make sure he wakes up,” he mutters, pushing his tired body off his seat. “I’ll need his help finding new clothes, anyways.”

The second he’s up and moving again, Amethyst darts around him and snatches his spot with such swift and viscous drive that one might believe this ploy were her sole quest and purpose in life. She stretches out against the seat back with a big, dramatic yawn, crossing her arms behind her head as she speaks. 

“It’s too bad you can’t just… I dunno… summon whatever clothes you want out of light, like us. That’s like the biggest bummer of humanity, if you ask me.”

“And when do you ever experiment with your outfit enough to have a strong opinion about this?” Pearl prods, crossing her arms. “It took you almost a decade to fix that asymmetrical shoulder strap.”

“Well, P… I like to think of myself as a Gem who would experiment with my outfit. One day. If I’m ever really, really bored. Consider it an Era 3 aspiration.”

Steven rocks back and forth on his heels, absentmindedly fiddling with the fraying bottom hem of his pajama top.

“Okay, uh… well, I’m gonna dress to leave now, so—”

“Yeah, see ‘ya.”

“Send a text if you need anything!” Pearl says with a casual wave.

“And don’t forget…” Garnet begins, the ellipses in her tone practically visible with the naked eye.

He pauses in his dutiful march to the stairs— (a somewhat unsteady march… as it turns out, shooting up about a foot and a half in height overnight tends to impact one’s sense of balance for the worst, go figure)— turning back to intercept whatever life advice or future vision she’s prepared for him this time. 

She grins, flashing him a quick heart with her hands instead. “We love you!”

~~

Steven trudges across the hot sands to his dad’s car wash sans his favorite flip flops, trying his very darnedest to wipe away the developing grimace on his face all the while. 

A small segment of him felt overjoyed when he first saw his reflection this morning, eager to look his age and finally grow up alongside his human friends. But after struggling to find anything that fits him even halfway right in his wardrobe, his good mood has rapidly spoiled. There’s a decent few reasons for this.

Reason number one: his old sandals are at least two sizes too small. His heels stick out over the end now, and the plastic thong digs into his toes something terrible. He literally can’t wear them without giving himself blisters. Ergo, his bare feet right now. 

Reason number two: none of his jeans sit right around the waist anymore, plus they make him look like he’s waiting for a flood. (Though thankfully, he found a stretchy blue skirt buried in one of his drawers that will do the trick for now.) 

And perhaps worst of all… reason number three: with his newly increased height, every single one of his treasured star shirts have been turned into ill-fitting crop tops, putting his gem on full display. He’s not against the concept of a crop top, but it sure ain’t a look he’s passionate about for everyday wear. It just feels… too exposing. Like, what about winter?? He can’t bear his whole midriff in winter, he’d freeze, and like… get hypothermia, or something. And not only that, but the longer he’s awake this morning the more an inescapable, thrumming ache starts to settle within the deepest core of his body, like even his bones themselves— the stubborn things— dare to object to this abrupt growth spurt.

Just… ugh. What an annoying hassle all these changes bring.  

“Stupid shirt,” he grouses, tugging at the too-tight collar, “stupid sandals, stupid Gem puberty! Why, oh why can’t I ever go through human stuff normally?”

His bare foot catches upon a sizable stone hidden amongst the beach. On any other day he would’ve successfully broken his fall, stumbling forwards a few awkward steps before regaining his balance and continuing on his way. But with his body now so different, and his center of gravity entirely off from what he’s used to, he head plants straight into the ground.

Wow, he thinks, spitting sand out of his mouth and pushing himself back to his feet. How elegant. Truly the shining paragon of coordination and grace.

Thank goodness no one was watching. Next time he’ll just have to remember to float.

He arrives at his dad’s van with no further incident. The rear doors are— following Garnet’s prediction- cracked open. Dad’s awake, at least for now.

“Daaaaaaaad,” he hollers, cupping his hands around his mouth to project. “A really, really weird thing happened, and I kinda need your help!”

A few spare seconds pass, seconds filled with the rustles of shifting blankets, the sound of a book being shut closed, and his dad’s low murmurs. The doors swing wide, though not as wide as Dad’s eyes when they wander around their bright, sunny surroundings and eventually land square on him and his new look.

“Wh— Steven, holy smokes! Look at you!”

With an awkward chuckle, he scratches away at an itch at the nape of his neck. “Heh heh, I know, right?”

“You’re almost as tall as your old man! When did this happen? How did this happen?”

“Some point last night, I guess,” he shrugs. “I just woke up like this. But Dad—” he clings onto his arm with mounting desperation— “I need your help to find some new shirts. Don’t you have like… whole boxes of your old tour merch stashed away somewhere? I don’t wanna have to get rid of my star, I just— I just need a bigger size, or something.”

“Hmmm…” Dad muses, scratching at the scruff of his beard. “Well, maybe, but…”

“But what?”

“But if any of it’s still around, then it’s probably in Amethyst’s room. All of the stuff from the storage unit ended up with her, remember?”

“Oh…” he says, brows furrowed, not quite able to parse this fact within his memory yet. And then… 

Ugh. That’s right.

Two New Years’ ago. The huge mess of crates and mattresses and long forgotten belongings. All that ridiculous Little Butler nonsense. Amethyst’s fight with Dad.

“Oh,” he mumbles, crossing his arms. “Right. Well, then let’s go find it!”

“R- right now?”

“Yeah, why not? I need new clothes, and you could see if there’s any old junk in there you might want to keep!”

With that, he grabs his dad’s hand and yanks him along, spirit filled with renewed purpose and vigor.

“And you’re sure you need my help for this?” Dad asks, lagging a step or two behind him as they march back across the beach together. “The Gems, they… well, they don’t usually want me going into the temple—”

“Oh, Amethyst will be fine,” he says with a wave of his palm. “She never cares when I go in there to check out her trash piles. ‘Sides, I need your help to find the right box! I have no idea what your old band stuff was stashed in.”

His dad flashes a tight smile, the sort he always serves up when he’s nervous, but also too timid to tell him that he’s nervous.

“Well… if you think she’ll allow it…” he relents, and picks up his pace to match his.

~~

[End Part 1... more to be shared later.]

[astroboots]

Love Bites

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Summary: Marc wakes up with a lot of hickeys in the mirror.

Content: a cup of yearning, a spoonful of angst and a heapful of horny and mix well with masturbation.

A/N: Inspired by @guruan amazing art series of love marks and hickeys on the Moon Knight boys. See her twitter for the pieces.

Word count: 4.9k words

ASTROBOOT’S MASTERLIST | THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMS' MASTERLIST | MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST

Marc is no stranger to finding marks on his body.

Black and yellowed bruises scattered across his ribcage. Angry pink abrasions on his knuckles or jaw, the dark reddish brown of old blood crusting around deeper gashes.

They never bothered him too much. The suit takes care of it in the blink of an eye when he needs it to. Well before Steven wakes up so that Marc can make sure that his other half will always stay none the wiser of what their body is put through on a daily basis.

Marc is usually the one responsible for most of the marks and bruises. But Steven, with his clumsiness, isn't altogether blameless.

There are nights when Marc will wake up with a sore arm from a box of souvenir junk that's fallen onto Steven during inventory time. Sometimes, Steven in his half-conscious stupor will bump into a particularly hard corner of the shelves leaving Marc with a purple blotch on his hip or shoulder. It happens often enough that when Marc wakes up fronting and find his body marred with big ugly bruises, he doesn't react with even an ounce of surprise.

After all, pain and bruises are routine for him. It's what Marc has known for as long as he can remember. But Marc can't say he's used to this. 

He's standing in front of the small mirror of the bathroom. His eyes lingers over the maroon-red mark that's discoloring the junction of his neck, right above his clavicle. It's the length of three fingers. It's bright, splotchy and glaring.

It's so unexpected it takes Marc several long seconds before he registers it for what it is.

Not a mosquito bite, it's too large for that. Not a bruise caused from a punch.

A hickey.

A grumble simmers in the back of his throat. Marc has a pretty good idea how the body ended up with a hickey.

Steven was going to take you out on a date last night. Some restaurant you’d been wanting to try “for ages.”

You'd looked so excited when you'd told him about it over breakfast that morning. Eyes bright, smiling cheek to cheek that made his chest squeeze tight within, as you had devoured the pancakes he'd made for you.

Marc stares back at his reflection in the mirror. At the big showy red blotch on his skin. If Marc leaves it as it is, it's sure to spread even wider until it turns purplish and blue and covers half of his throat.

Shit, you really went to town on his— on Steven's neck.

The two of you must have had fun.

His fingers trail the outline of the discoloration of his skin. The skin is bruised and a little tender, but it doesn’t hurt. Not in the way he's used to.

This isn’t the lingering pain from the impact of blunt knuckles or the sharp throbbing  of broken ribs. This is different.

This bruise was made, not with a fist or a weapon, but with care. Made with your soft lips dragging across his neck. Your exploring fingers digging into his hair as your teeth scrape down his jaw and down his --

Fuck. What is he doing?

He glares accusingly at himself in the mirror.

What the hell was that?

Marc doesn't do this.

He doesn't let himself think about what it's like when you and Steven are together.

That's the rule he set for himself early on when you entered Steven's life: Marc is going to stay out of your way.

Leave you and Steven to live a normal and happy life without his interference... Except he fucked up.

Marc feels like a goddamned Disney villain most times. It's bad enough that Marc steals away hours—sometimes days—from Steven's quiet London life without the man knowing.

Somehow, and Marc isn't entirely sure how he's managed to land the three of you in this position, but not only do you know about Marc now. Marc's also cornered you into the impossible situation that you have to keep his existence secret from Steven.

Leading to the present status quo. One where Marc eats away at the poor man's life like a bottom-feeding parasite. Stealing time from Steven, on mornings that you wake in their bed. Hours that Marc could and should be ceding back to Steven. Instead, Marc finds himself lingering more and more often. Standing in the kitchen, cleaning up waiting for you to wake.

In the beginning he told himself that it was to keep an eye on you. After all, he can't have you wandering around in apartment flat and uncover something that is not meant for your eyes. But he'd be lying to himself if he said that was still the case. Because Marc trusts you after all.

No, he knows why he does this. Why he stays in the mornings, sat across you from the table, watching you eat with warmth fizzing pleasantly in his veins. He knows even if he'd never dare to put words to what it is.

He wants to take.

A heavy, sick feeling spreads in his stomach—his old familiar friends, shame and guilt—because Marc has already taken enough.

He doesn’t get to take this too. Doesn't get to think about what it's like when you and Steven are together.

That time belongs to Steven. You belong to Steven.

Marc is just an interloper.

His eyes pull back up from the floor of the bathroom and he catches himself frowning in the mirror.

He hasn’t moved his hand. His fingertips linger, thumb dragging over the pulse of his throat before pressing down on the bruise, hard. Digging in until he can feel the ache of it. Until the mark stings like it would have when it was freshly made by you.

A sharp thrill sparks down his spine, and warmth streaks across his lower stomach. Marc ignores it. Ignores the heavy ache that pools in his groin. It’s fine. As long as he ignores it, doesn't take things further, then he can let himself have… this. The fading echo of the love you have for Steven.

Marc leaves the hickey. 

He wears his civilian clothes when he goes out at night on Khonshu’s business so the suit won’t heal it.  Tries to avoid getting hurt so he won’t leave any other bruises for Steven to find. It feels strange. It's been a long time since Marc approached a fight with anything like caution.  

Over the course of the next week, he wakes up each night to see that the hickey has bloomed. Marc maps its journey as it spreads from the small spot on his throat up the length of it until it almost reaches his jaw. Then it begins to fade.

On the fourth day the stark red has grown subdued. By the fifth, the blotches on his skin are well on their way to healing. And on the sixth...

On the sixth day, Marc finds a second mark right below the fading one at the base of his neck and long red streaks marking scratches on his shoulder.

New marks keep appearing with each week. Small finger-nail shaped crescent moons on his shoulder blades. The indent of teeth on his clavicle. More hickeys, the small and gentle bruises scattered across the body like a treasure hunt for Marc to find.

He's not sure how he feels about that. Except that there's a strange and unsettling flutter deep in the pit of his stomach everytime he catches sight of one of them in the mirror.

Shit. He's probably not supposed to feel anything about them at all. After all, they shouldn't affect him one way or the other at all. None of them actually hurt.

Judging from the frequency they're appearing, Steven obviously likes them. What’s Marc gonna do about it? Sit you down over the breakfast table, as he ladles up pancakes on your plate and casually drops that he keeps finding marks you've left on Steven? That it makes him feel... (funny? strange? good?) some way about it?

No, this is fine.

There's nothing to be done with the strange situation the three of you find yourselves in. All Marc can do is catalog each and every one of them. Each and every bruise and scrape and bite you leave on Steven, pressing harsh fingers over them until the blunt ache sets in so that Marc can feel them too.

Nothing is wrong. It's fine.

As long as he doesn't think of anything more, doesn't let his mind wander, then Marc isn't crossing a line. After all, there's nothing else he can do about the situation.

The only thing he can do is to keep his silent inspection of each hickey and scratch left on the body. He tells himself it's because he has to know what's going on with the body. To make sure it’s in good enough condition for Khonshu’s missions. That’s all it is. It has nothing to do with the fact that it's a tiny window into the part of Steven's life with you that Marc won't let himself intrude or eavesdrop on.

He almost believes it.

And if there’s a bittersweet feeling that weighs heavy in his stomach, it doesn’t matter. He can ignore it. Marc is no stranger to wanting things he can't have, things he doesn't deserve.

It's fine.

Everything is fine.

And it would have kept on being fine if it weren’t for the fucking lipstick.

The first time it happens, Marc wakes up alone in the apartment slumped over a chair, a book in his lap. Steven must've fallen asleep while reading. Nothing unusual there.

Marc doesn't even notice anything’s wrong until he steps into the bathroom and catches sight of his reflection in the mirror.

Smears of glossy scarlet stand out glaringly against his skin. It's on his face, his mouth and neck, bright red like a traffic light, warning Marc to stop.

Against his better judgment, Marc doesn't heed the warning.

His hand comes up to trace a pristine, perfectly-defined lip print on his cheekbone, trying not to let himself imagine what caused it. He pushes the invading image of your smile and the sweet curve of your lips down into the depths of his mind where he can't reach.

This is different from the hickeys and scrapes. Completely superficial. There is no underlying injury for him to punish himself with, but he catalogs the marks anyway.

The one on his neck is less pristine, smeared at the edges. His fingers drag over the skin in the same place your lips would have.

There's a bright-red smear at the corner of his mouth.

Marc stares at that one for a long time, breath coming in faster and heavier as his fingers hover, not quite touching.

He doesn't dare touch it because he knows what sort of contact made those marks. Can almost feel the weight of your arms wrapped around his neck, the slight sting of your fingers twined into his hair. The bridge of your nose alongside his as your plush lips press to his in a desperate, devouring kiss.

Shit. Shit!

His heart thrashes hard and fast with the fluttering panic of a trapped hummingbird inside his chest. Stepping backwards, a rush of blood floods his body and he feels lightheaded with the pace of it.

He can't look at it. Has to turn sharply away. Grabs a washcloth and the soap and scrubs until his skin feels raw. He doesn't let himself look again until the marks are gone because it feels like crossing a line. One he wasn’t—isn’t—going to let himself cross.

"It's my four month anniversary with Steven," you tell Marc as you reach for the toasted bagel with cream cheese in front of him.

Marc slides the plate back out of your reach and begins to layer smoked salmon on top.

"Where are you two going?"

"Steven booked Gloria. It's the cute Italian place with all the flowery corner booths and pretty porcelain dishes, remember?"

He nods as though he has any idea which restaurant you’re talking about. He doesn’t. Marc doesn’t spy on Steven’s dates with you.

"Their truffle pizza is delish, and for dessert they have this heavenly lemon meringue pie which is—and I am not exaggerating in the slightest—eight inches tall.”

"Sounds nice," he says, adding the finishing touches to your bagel. He barely has time to place the last caper before you swipe the plate from his hands and take a large bite out of it.

You moan your approval, then chew and swallow, smiling at him as you lick your fingers clean, and Marc doesn’t let himself think about anything at all.

"We'll go there sometime," you say, and it makes Marc stop in his tracks. "We can share it together."

He doesn't say that there’s no way in hell.  Doesn't tell you that he doesn’t get to be together with you outside of the bubble that is these stolen mornings here in Steven's apartment. Doesn’t try to explain why somehow that would be crossing the last tenuous line he's set for himself.

Instead he turns around, stowing the cream cheese back in the fridge and steadfastly ignoring the insistent itch under the collar of his shirt. Your latest mark is there, simmering with heat where the shape of your lips are still branded onto his skin.

"Sounds nice," he says again.

Marc doesn't peek on your date with Steven.

It's not easy to stay away. His consciousness keeps floating to the surface, an involuntary reaction to Steven's feverish excitement that buoys Marc closer to awareness. Trapped in the dark purgatory where he’s peripherally aware of the palm of their hands going clammy with sweat and the whole of their body flashing hot and cold. He has to constantly swim down into the nothingness to avoid being inadvertently pushed to the front.

But Marc holds steady, even when he can feel their heart pounding away in their chest like Steven is running a goddamn marathon. He's determined to let you and Steven keep your private time private. The two of you don’t need him hanging around peeping like some perverted fly on the wall.

But…

It's a special kind of hell when Steven gets this excited.

It takes everything Marc has in him to fight the instinct to step in and take over, but he manages it somehow, holding on by his metaphorical fingernail until Steven finally succumbs to an exhausted sleep.

As the first dim light of the morning sun slinks through the windows, Marc wakes to find himself in bed, tangled up in twisted sheets.

His thighs ache, his back is stiff and it takes him several moments to orientate himself. Sandy-eyed and more exhausted than he should be, he peels back the bedding, to reveal…

Red.

His bare chest and stomach are smeared in bright crimson red. 

Blood. 

He's covered in it.

Adrenaline cracks through him, bright and sickening, and Marc jolts upright. 

Oh fuck, what has he done now?

No. He forces himself to regulate his breathing, air hissing between his teeth as his chest heaves. It couldn't have been him. 

The last thing he can remember is ceding the body to Steven, and then the fight to keep his consciousness submerged. Steven wouldn’t have done this either, which means– Shit! Shit!!

It's everywhere. 

Splotches parade across his torso, bright and glossy and so very red. Really red, almost… too red. He tips his chin down to get a closer look, and…

There's a perfectly defined shape of a set of lips on his left pec.

Marc stares at it, then raises a trembling hand to press two fingers over the ruby red lip-print and sags with relief.

Not blood. It's fucking lipstick. 

Your lipstick.

His face prickles with heat, his fingers trembling against the skin of his chest.

There's another, less well defined print next to it, and he traces that one as well, and then the red ring smeared around his nipple. He follows the trail of color down his chest and abdomen. It's fucking everywhere. Way more lipstick than could possibly come from a single application.

Marc can picture it. Fuck, he is picturing it, as clear as day. Your bright eyes gazing up at him through lush lashes as you kiss your way down his– down Steven's heaving chest, pausing your assault every now and then to reapply your lip color. The tip of the waxy red stick smoothing over your plush lips, leaving the shiny red color behind. The way you would purse your mouth before leaning back down to stamp another mark upon his skin.

Marc's fingertips brush over another red smear low on his belly. One that’s just barely visible before it disappears under the edge of the sheet.

There’s static in his head, so loud that it drowns out everything else. He can barely hear his own thoughts so it’s easy to ignore the little voice in his head screaming that this is a bad idea and push the sheets aside to follow the red streak down the crease of his thigh.

Tired muscles jump under the brush of his fingers, skin prickling, and he's suddenly, uncomfortably aware that he's hard. Achingly so, his dick throbbing just inches from where he's touching the trail of lipstick on his skin.

The soft cotton of the sheets drags against his overly-sensitive skin as he shoves it the rest of it off, and–

Fuck.

He stops, every muscle in him tensing up because the red smears and kiss marks don't end with the one on his hip. Of course they fucking don't. They continue down the sparse trail of hair leading to his groin where there's a perfect bright red ring circling his aching dick, right below the leaking head.

There’s several rings, the red streaked and smeared up and down the length of him. Oh fuck.

His dick pulses, jerking against his stomach, and a drop of precome wells from the tip. He watches as it rolls slowly across the flat plane of the head which is graced with a single, only-slightly smeared kiss mark.

Marc feels that mark as if it were branded onto him.

He takes himself in hand without thought, thumb slicking though the slippery fluid, smearing it across the impression of your lips. His whole body jerking as he grinds his thumb into that red spot, pressing as though he could somehow imprint your touch into his skin—into the very fabric of his torn and fucked up soul.

He gets lost in the feeling, pleasure just short of pain that has him shuddering and shaking under his own touch. Lets go only long enough to lock his fingers over the circle of scarlet right under the head of his dick. Then it’s on to the other ones, covering each of the marks in turn, squeezing and sliding between them, rubbing the seemingly endless stream of precome he’s oozing over his cock. The lipstick spreads, smearing further until it’s staining his hand as well. The skin of his palm and the length of his dick both streaked with that bright alarming red.

Everything aches. It's overwhelming. Sharp pleasure pushes along every nerve, filling up every empty crevice in his hollow chest until there’s no room left for anything else, and he doesn't know if it's from the touch of his own hand or the knowledge that these marks are from you (from your soft, plush mouth wrapped around his dick) or both.

Marc doesn't do this.

He doesn’t do slow. Or soft. Doesn't let himself indulge in this kind of languid, drawn-out touches.

Sure, he jerks off. When the need arises, he takes care of it. He handles his hard-on the same way he deals with the other tasks involved in the upkeep of their body—with little patience and just enough effort to get it over and done with as efficiently as possible.

More often than not, it's him in the shower, fisting his cock with quick, perfunctory motions as he stares at the wall and tries not to think of anything at all (something that's been harder than usual these past few months). It's something he does as a matter of routine. Just one more item on his hygiene checklist: wash hair, jerk off, wash body, dry off, brush teeth.

This is.... not that.

If he stopped long enough to acknowledge what it is he's doing. To put words to what this is, he's not sure he can think of anything but "fucked up". Fucked up and entirely alien and new to him. Slick and soft and slow. The drag of his fingers over the stained, sensitive flesh of his straining, aching dick almost sensual, and it drives a low, guttural gasp from his lips.

The sound is met by a sleepy sigh from behind him, and Marc freezes.

Fuck.

He doesn’t dare turn his head to confirm what he already knows. That you must have spent the night with Steven, and you’re still lying there in his bed now. 

And Marc is sitting less than an arm's length away from your sleeping body, smearing your lipstick up and down the length of his leaking, jerking cock.

And you're about half a second from waking up and catching him red handed and realizing just how fucking disgusting he is.

Terror spears through him as images of what happens next flash behind his eyes.

The shock on your face. Your redredred lips parted in surprise and disbelief. How disbelief would shade into horrified disgust when you see the proof of just how fucked up he is; the way he's made himself sick with yearning over you. Over something that's not his—could never be his because you're a thousand times too good for him.

Marc wants nothing more than to curl up into himself and disappear forever, but he forces himself up and out of bed. Keeping his back towards you, he retreats toward the bathroom as quickly and quietly as he can manage. He doesn't dare turn around. 

If your eyes are on him… 

If it's already too late…

He doesn't want to know.

That resolve lasts until he's reached the questionable safety of the bathroom. He can't help but sneak one a last look over his shoulder at you as he slides the door closed.

Your eyes are closed. Thank fuck. The knot of fear in his chest loosens slightly at the sight of you sleeping peacefully, unaware of his disturbing behavior.

But– Oh fuck, your lips. 

The delicate contours of your plush mouth are smeared and stained with the same color that's streaked across his body, a fucking beacon in stoplight red. 

His skin, every square inch that's tinted with the evidence of your touch, starts to burn, and Marc burns with it.

He doesn’t remember shutting the door. Doesn’t remember turning to press his back to the wall. Marc comes back to awareness staring down at one of his hands where it’s wrapped around his aching, leaking, red-smeared dick. The other hand is pressed against the lip print on his chest, fingernails digging in. A bright spark of pain courses through him, and he pushes harder, clawing at the stained flesh as though, if he just presses hard enough, he can peel back the layers of himself to reveal the memory of what it felt like to have your lips against his skin.

Marc is excruciatingly aware that he is fucking things up. Has fucked them all to hell and back already. 

The line he told himself he would never cross is somewhere miles behind him along with his self control and any shred of decency. This is wrong. He should not be doing this. Has no fucking business with his hand anywhere near his dick when his mind is full of you.

The knowledge of how fucked up all of this is, makes him slow his strokes. Guilt and shame weigh him down, as heavy as Khonshu’s armor, flooding his body almost as thoroughly as pleasure. 

But he still can’t make himself stop.

The floodgates are open. Marc can’t stop rubbing his dick any more than he can stop seeing you, eyes wide and knowing; your ruby red lips pressed to his, sliding over his stomach, wrapped around his cock. 

His chest heaves, breath stuttering painfully in his lungs. His fingers tighten around his cock, and the pleasure that sears through his veins is blinding. It’s consuming, all-encompassing, burning through  every reservation and shred of morality until it robs him of the ability to tell right from wrong. 

Everything is a haze. There are no thoughts left in his head. Nothing left except you.

All he can think of is the look of pure delight on your face after you take your first bite of the breakfasts he makes for you. The way he'll sometimes catch you gazing at his back when he's standing by the stove and you think he can’t see. The forty-five minutes each morning that you're his alone.

Warmth seeps through his chest and takes root beneath his ribs, a counterpoint to the almost painful heat rippling in his gut. It climbs his spine and spreads outward along his limbs until all of him, from his stomach to the tip of his head, is filled with the sensation. It feels good. In a way that Marc can't ever remember having felt.

There's a strange sound pushing against his throat, and if Marc wasn't so far gone, he'd register it as sounding dangerously close to a whimper.

His eyes flutter open, (and fuck he can't remember when he even closed them) to find himself staring up at a stranger in the mirror. He doesn't recognize this man. The messy black hair that falls over his brow doesn't belong to him. Nor do the swollen lips, parted slightly as if their owner is about to plead for something. Dark eyes have gone glassy and wet, with an unfamiliar drunken glaze. 

He doesn't know this man, but it’s not him.

Can’t be him. 

Or maybe it is. 

Need, ugly and grasping, is written across his face. He can feel it dripping out of him, can see the full extent of his depravity, staring back at him.  He looks desperate, nearly unhinged. 

Out of control. 

All the things he doesn’t get to be, because he’ll just fuck things up.

But that doesn’t stop the jagged heat blossoming in his stomach. It starts from the tip of his toes, wrapping his limb with aching bliss until his knees go weak and he's nearly doubling over unable to hold his own weight.

His hips cant up to meet each stroke of his hand. Chasing after the pleasure eagerly, even as the residual shame clings to every inch of him.

He presses his eyes shut again so he doesn't have to look at himself in the eye as the looming promise of his orgasm rises higher.

He regrets it immediately. 

In the dark, without the distraction of his reflection to look at, there's nothing to stop his mind from filling the blank space with you.

Your gaze from across the room.

Your touch when the back of your hand accidentally brushes against his when you help him with the dishes.

Your voice...

“Together,” you'd told him yesterday. You'd go tho the restaurant together. As if you two were a couple.

The breath catches in his lungs, searing pleasure streaking along his limbs, achingly sweet and…

Wrong.

This is so fucking wrong.

Wrong of him to think of you here with him. Wrong to imagine the warmth of your body pressed against his, your smaller hand wrapped around him in place of his own. Wrong to wonder how soft your lips would be, trailing down the length of his neck, teeth sinking into his neck to leave another fresh mark, one meant only for him.

The feeling is too large, too overwhelming. It's fucking unbearable. Pleasure doubling and redoubling to fill every inch of flesh, every cell, until his body feels alien to him.

It rips through him, chaotic and endless. A cacophony of static, fills his head as his climax explodes through him. Pulse after agonizingly blissful pulse rips through him, and he spills himself across the white porcelain of the sink.

It goes on and on and on until he's empty and wrung out.

Until the only thing left in is the harsh noise of his uneven breathing wheezing out of his chest and the acidic guilt and shame that are lodged in his throat like bile that he can't spit out.

The strength has been zapped out of his limbs. His knees are weak, threatening to give way, and his hands shoot out, gripping the sides of the cold and dirty sink as he slumps forward, barely holding himself upright. His forehead is pressed against the cool glass of the mirror, but refuses to look at his reflection. 

It's there all the same. The incriminating flush of his skin nearly as red as the marks from your lipstick. The evidence of your lips pressed to his skin with intent, with care, with…  love. 

But not for Marc. 

It’s never going to be for Marc. 

He closes his eyes again and lets the world fade away. 

Dedications:

To my favorite clown @thirstworldproblemss who had her mastery hands all over this and wrote majority of this pieces (all the best parts of it).

Also dedicated to @guruan who is currently in tumblr jail and if tumblr could let her out that would be great!!! I need my beautiful MK boys in art form and Leslie's presence in my life on tumblr.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[bigdan2005]

Stayed away for a while here are the Francis Mosses headcanons

𒊹︎When it comes to delivering milk he face the weirdest costumers in town, like once he encountered a person who wanted milk to see if it can explode on its own and poor Francis thought this guy might be a doubleganger

𒊹︎HE. NEVER. GETS. SLEEP

𒊹︎He always try to get a day off but his boss doesn’t let him have any, so only the very late night is his time to try and sleep in it, even though sometimes he can’t

𒊹︎He’s best friends with Steven and Angus, they’re abit close to eachother ages and mostly both Steven and Angus try and help Francis as much as they can because they know how tired Francis can be from his job

𒊹︎He might seem he’s just a guy who wants a break from work and doesn’t care about anything, but he’s so into gossip, he’d sometimes ear drop on some of the other neighbors and then would talk about it with Steven and Angus, not in a bad way really, probably either for fun or to try and help the other neighbors, and for that he’s known to be such a sweet guy

𒊹︎As mentioned in the last point, he’s known as a sweet guy for the other neighbors, once Arnold fell sick and he’s wife Gloria had to take care of him and took a couple of days off, Francis ended up getting them groceries on his way back from work to make sure they have everything in need since Gloria couldn’t leave home

𒊹︎surprisingly for a tired overworking person like Francis, his apartment is always clean, he’s a very clean guy that prefers to stay in a dessert then in a messy party or something

𒊹︎He hates, and I mean HATES when Steven and Angus tease him about not dating, he’s more of a loner, yes, but he didn’t really asked for it, it just he didn’t find someone who can keep up with his uncontrollable coldness, or him arriving late from work, or falling asleep accidentally anywhere

𒊹︎And as I said, he falls asleep anywhere, literally anywhere, he once fell asleep while driving with Angus they almost crashed, so Angus let him sit in the passenger seat and sleep while he drove back to their apartments

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

You can call me babe...not just for the weekend | Conrad Fisher x Reader

Advent calendar day seven: Tis the damn season

Summary: You and Conrad explore a road you never did before when come back to your hometown for the holidays

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Bundled in your warm coat and scarf, you walked down the streets of Boston with a cup of hot coffee in your right hand, looking for last minute presents while drinking in the feeling of home. Around you, the shops were adorned with twinkling holiday lights, painting a very different picture than in Los Angeles’s December. Especially with the light layers of snow all over the city. 

Although you loved living in Los Angeles, there was nothing better than a snow-y Christmas. 

You missed it the past two years. 

The faint scent of fresh fir and pine coming from the Christmas tree market at the end of the street brought a nostalgic smile to your lips. When you were little, your dad would let you pick a tree — which was always way too big for the living room.  

You entered the bookshop, browsing around for a possible novel to read during your vacation when your eyes caught a familiar face between the aisles. 

‘’Conrad?’’

Hearing his name, the brunet lifted his gaze. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. You. In Boston. 

‘’Hi,’’ he said, completely struck. 

You walked over to him, pausing your shopping, and Conrad put down the book he was holding. 

‘’I haven’t seen you in a while. It’s good to see you.’’ 

He had changed — grown — since you last saw him. His hair was a bit longer at the back and his jawline was sharper, but he still had that navy sweater he wore to every Christmas party at school. It has reindeers and snowflakes on it. 

‘’I just got here last night,’’ he explained, giving you a small smile that fell soon after, as if regretting it. ‘’I didn't know you were coming this Christmas.’’ 

‘’I was beginning to miss the snow,’’ you said, then took a sip of your coffee. ‘’How’s your mom?’’ 

Conrad was relieved for a conversation shifter. ‘’She’s great.’’ He smiled again. ‘’We’re hosting a massive Christmas dinner this year and, you know her, she went all out. She turned our house into a place that looks like it came straight from a cheesy Hallmark holiday movie.’’

A chuckle spilled from your lips. Susannah always loved holidays — 4th of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas. She tended to go a bit overboard with the decorations, but she always prepared the most delicious feasts for her guests. Although she was no Martha Stewart, her dinner table was one for the magazines. 

‘’Did your dad put the big star at the top of the house? I couldn’t see it from my window last night.’’

‘’Eh, no.. He didn’t…’’ You could sense that Conrad was holding something back, something he didn’t know how to tell you.  ‘’Dad moved out last summer. He…’’ There was a short pause before he spilled the truth, having never said it out loud before. ‘’He cheated on my mom.’’ 

Your stomach sank and your heart ached for Susannah. You never would have taken Mr. Fisher for a cheater, but you can never really know someone.

‘’I’m sorry.’’

‘’Why for? You’re not the one who had an affair with his secretary,’’ Conrad said, clearly still pissed about the situation and resenting his dad. Getting a silence from you, Conrad took back his words. ‘’I should not have said that…’’

You shook your head. ‘’It’s okay,’’ you assured him. ‘’Is Jeremiah coming for the holidays? He’s in college now, right?’’ 

‘’Yeah. Him and Belly both go to Finch, so they are driving together tonight. Steven should get here tomorrow.’’

Steven. You hadn’t heard of him in a while. The last time you spoke to him was to congratulate him for getting into Princeton. The big news was the reason why you had changed his name for Princeton boy on your phone. It was a nod to one of your favorite movies — A Cinderella story.

A smile drew on your lips. ‘’Seems like everyone is back in town this year.’’ 

‘’Like the old days,’’ Conrad confirmed, his smile tighter than yours.

⁂

The second time you ran into one of the Fisher brothers, you were getting lunch by yourself at your old favorite café and typing a few lines for your next novel. Christmas chaos had started at home and writing was impossible with your mother’s holiday music blasting while she was working on tomorrow’s dinner. 

You heard him before you saw him. 

‘’Oh my god, am I seeing right?’’ 

You raised your head, recognizing the dark blond curls spilling from under his hat that just entered the café. He skipped the counter and went straight for your table, pulling you in for a hug.

‘’I can’t believe you’re here! It’s been so long,’’ Jeremiah said, his smile so big you would think he had won a trip to Cabo. 

You talked for a few minutes, catching up on small things, but he unfortunately couldn’t stay long as he was meeting with Belly to go Christmas shopping. You wished them good luck, the shopping malls likely chaotic forty-eight hours before Christmas. 

‘’Before I go, there’s a huge New Year party at Este’ house next week,’’ Jeremiah informed, fixing his jacket and grabbing his coffee from the table. ‘’Everyone is gonna be there. You should come.’’

It was kind of him to invite you, but you were hesitant. 

‘’I haven’t spoken to anyone since moving across the country, I doubt they’ll want me there…’’ 

Jeremiah tilted his head, giving you a look. ‘’Don’t say that. I’m sure someone will be interested in hearing about all of your celebrity friends. If you tell anyone you’ve met Ariana Grande in a restaurant, they’ll want to be best friends.’’ 

You shook your head. Of course he would mention Ariana Grande. The two of you used to sing her music in the car and have midnight release parties every time a new album came out. 

‘’I don’t have any celebrity friends to gossip about. And if I did, I would be a bad friend for gossiping about them at a party in my hometown.’’ 

⁂

A Hallmark holiday rom-com was playing on TV when you received a text from Conrad. His contact picture was a selfie of you and him at the beach in Cousins. You visited him for the 4th of July the summer before you parted ways to different colleges. 

From Conrad: Do you want to drive around and look at Christmas lights together?

A smile drew across your face. It was an old tradition from when you were kids. The two of you would walk around the neighborhood on the first night of Christmas break and look at all the decorated houses. You always looked forward to that special night. Then, when Conrad got his license, you broadened your itinerary to other neighborhoods and added hot chocolates and stolen holiday desserts from your respective houses to the tradition. 

You didn’t bother changing out of your pajamas, adding a sweater over your shirt and slipping on your boots before heading out. 

‘’Where’s your coat?’’ Conrad asked when you opened the passenger door and got in.

‘’We’re staying in the car, I don’t need it,’’ you replied, closing the door and pulling your seatbelt.

Conrad sighed and turned the heater higher. 

‘’I’m gonna be honest, I was surprised to get a text from you. I got the impression that you weren't as pleased to see me as I was yesterday.’’

‘’No. It wasn’t that,’’ he assured, taking his eyes off the road to look at you briefly. ‘’To me, it was unlikely that you would come to Boston again since your life is in Los Angeles now. I was just shocked to see you in town.’’ 

 A teasing smile curled on your face. ‘’Aw, you were starstruck by me?’’

‘’I didn't say starstruck…’’ Conrad protested, shaking his head as you twisted his words around.  

The conversation was quickly dropped, something massive and green catching your attention on your side of the street. ‘’Oh, look on my left, they dressed up their 50 feet skeleton in a Grinch costume!’’ 

⁂

‘’What are you doing here?’’ your mother asked, her arms crossed as swatched you in the kitchen making yourself a cup of tea on New Year’s eve, eyeing you with a mixture of disbelief and surprise.

You gave her a confused look, a teaspoon in one hand and a teabag dangling from the other. ‘’I’m on vacation… Mom, did you have too much eggnog or something?’’ 

‘’I mean, what are you doing at home on New Year’s eve? Don’t you have a party to go to? I’m sure your old friends missed you.’’

Letting out a sigh, you resumed preparing your tea, pouring hot water into the cup. ‘’Jeremiah invited me, but I don’t think I’m gonna be going. We can watch Ryan Seacrest’s Rockin New Year together—’’ 

Your mother leaned against the kitchen counter, a faint frown on her face. ‘’You should go. No twenty-year-old should stay at home on New Year’s eve,’’ she insisted, glancing at the clock on the wall. ‘’Is Conrad gonna be there?’’ 

You shrugged, stirring the tea. ‘’I don’t know.’’

She pointed at your cup. ‘’Give me that tea and get ready for that party.’’ 

⁂

Leave it to you to be overdressed at a small town New Year party. Since moving to Los Angeles, you had to level up to their standards of fashion, but now you were sticking out like a sore thumb in this suburban crowd.

You walked further into the house, trying to find familiar faces, but you didn’t recognize half of them. They must have recognized you by the sour look they gave you. You couldn’t tell if it was because of your dress or because they didn’t like that you were at the party.  You tried to ignore them. There was a reason you left town and it wasn’t only for bigger career opportunities. 

‘’Happy new year!’’ Belly greeted over the loud music, grinning excitedly with a red cup in her hand and a pair of ‘2024’ gold glasses on her face. She pulled you in a hug, giving you a better welcome than your old classmates. She held you at arm’s length, looking you up and down. ‘’Wow, that dress looks so good. It’s like a mirrorball.’’ 

You smiled and thanked her for the compliment. ‘’You don’t think it’s too much?’’ 

She shook her head. ‘’It’s better to be overdressed than underdressed,’’ she assured you, quoting Susannah. ‘’Come. Steven has been talking about you non-stop since Jeremiah told him you were in town and coming to the party.’’ Belly gave the boys a glance on the other side of the room, both talking by the windows, then pulled you through the sea of people. 

‘’There she is,’’ Steven exclaimed when seeing you approach, being the last of the group to see you. 

You pulled him in a short hug. ‘’Hey, Steven.’’ 

Seeing your empty hands, Jeremiah offered to get you a drink. He enumerated the small selection available in Este’s kitchen, but your attention was drawn away when you caught Conrad sitting with a couple of friends on the couches with a beer in hand. Your eyes lingered on him more than necessary. You couldn’t help it, he looked so handsome in a button up and sweater. 

‘’So, which one is going to be?’’ Jeremiah said, still waiting for your choice of drink.

As the night went on, you lost sight of him. You and Belly laughed while the boys did karaoke, duetting musicals and acing every song. Parties in Los Angeles were not as laid back. Everyone would have booed if someone had pulled out the karaoke machine. 

Steven was in the middle of an impressive solo when you caught Conrad heading outside to the balcony. You glanced at your friends, then back at the sliding door, and excused yourself to the bathroom. You came to the party in hopes to see him, you couldn’t not talk to him.

As you stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air enveloped you, causing goosebumps to rise on your barely covered skin. Even with tights, that dress was not approved for the winter chill. Trying to ignore the high chances of catching a cold, you walked up to Conrad, who was leaning against the railing, gazing at the illuminated neighborhood by himself.

‘’I’ve been looking for you,’’ you said, your voice breaking the silence. 

‘’Me?’’

You hummed, joining him in his gazing. ‘’Aren't you cold out here?’’ 

‘’No, not really.’’ He shifted his eyes to you, noticing the absence of a coat over your shoulders. ‘’You sure are cold.’’ 

You chuckled, rubbing your arms in a futile attempt to generate warmth. ‘’Maybe a little.’’

Without asking, Conrad pulled you closer, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders. ‘’Better?’’ 

You leaned into his side, a smile gracing your lips as the woodsy undertones of his cologne enveloped your senses with every breath. ‘’Better.’’ 

‘’How was your Christmas?’’ he asked.

‘’Great.’’ Your answer came across as cold, but it wasn’t intentional. ‘’Did Susannah make you wear matching Christmas sweaters again?’’

Conrad groaned, confirming that she did. ‘’She got us matching pajama bottoms too, this year. It’s horrendous.’’

‘’I’m sure you looked cute— that it was cute,’’ you quickly corrected. 

‘’I assure you, it was not,’’ Conrad denied, shaking his head at the memories. ‘’Mom put reindeer ears on Jeremiah’s head for the family portrait and I had a Santa hat.’’ 

You could totally imagine Conrad in a Santa hat and Christmas pajamas. 

‘’Conrad?’’ He hummed, waiting for you to continue. ‘’Do you ever think of us? The ‘us’ before I moved to California?’’ 

The two of you were very close since third grade, but once you moved to California, you got radio silence from Conrad. No texts. No phone calls. Nothing. 

‘’What do you mean?’’ 

You distanced yourself from him, preferring to be cold rather than close to someone who was playing fool. ‘’You know what I mean.’’

‘’You’re going back to L.A. in a couple of days. It doesn’t matter…’’ 

‘’It does!’’ you finally said, a mix of emotions coating your voice. ‘’I miss us. I miss us everyday, and after these past days, I don’t think I can go back to not speaking to you. I’m asking you one last time, Conrad, if you miss us too, please say it so we can stop acting like stupid teenagers and face what this is like adults.’’ 

Inside the house, you could hear people loudly counting down to midnight, meaning there wasn’t much time left. 

Talking about feelings was always difficult with Conrad. He preferred to bottle them and be miserable instead of facing them. 

‘’Of course I do,’’ he admitted with a rare vulnerability. ‘’No one matters more to me than you.’’

You didn’t hear the countdown reaching its end when you leaned up and pressed your lips against his, finally exploring the road untraveled by. You thought it would feel strange to cross the friendship line, but it wasn’t. It was easy and comfortable. 

Conrad pulled you back to him with a hand on the small of your back, the sequins of your dress scratching his skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, as if you were scared he would break the kiss too soon or just…run.

When the kiss did break, Conrad didn’t run. He was smiling down at you as cheers roared from inside the house, the clock having struck midnight. 

‘’It almost doesn’t feel real,’’ you said, looking into his beautiful eyes. 

Conrad leaned down to kiss you again. ‘’How about now?’’ He had an ever present smile on his lips, the kind of smile that couldn’t be broken by anything. The kind of smile that was from pure happiness. 

Starting to feel too cold, the two of you headed back inside to grab your coat and leave. As you were maneuvering through the people, Jeremiah didn’t fail to notice Conrad’s hand holding yours. He elbowed Belly, who squealed excitedly.

—

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[heavcnslyre]

chapter three — j.f. ( masterlist )

LOVER, YOU SHOULD’VE COME OVER.

“maybe i'm too young to keep good love from going wrong

but tonight, you're on my mind so, you’ll never know”

taglist: @jellybassett @glowingtree

(authors note PLEASE READ: you guys are the SWEETEST ever omg the amount of love i’ve gotten on this so far is insane. i appreciate, and reread over and over again, every single comment or reblog i get, it genuinely keeps me so motivated to write and i appreciate you guys so so much you have no idea. i haven’t written in forever so i excepted no one to like this fic but so far you guys have proven that to be not true and it brings me so much joy. i plan for this to be long!! idek how many parts i’m just gonna keep writing chapters until the story ends!! i cannot guarantee how often updates will be but i’ll write my ass off as much as i can for a while!! all the love in the world to you guys!!! enjoy!!)

you wake up the next morning with no messages from peter. this, usually wouldn’t be strange since he often slept in later than you, but he didn’t even reply to your message from last night at ten thirty. he never went to bed earlier than two in the morning. a gross, nervous feeling creeps up on you. you try to shake it off, thinking that maybe he just fell asleep early when he hadn’t heard from you. that’s what you would keep telling yourself.

downstairs in the kitchen, steven and jeremiah were sitting on stools at the counter, comparing their cereals. belly was at the table, studying the pancakes she was eating. susannah was cooking more pancakes at the stove. “morning (y/n)!” susannah greets you as you enter the room. jeremiah looks up at you and when you make eye contact, he gives you a forced smile and then looks back down at his cereal. he’d been acting weird since last night, when you told him about peter. it actually sort of made you feel bad, that you didn’t tell him sooner. he was clearly bothered by it or offended about you not telling him. the last thing you wanted to do was make things weird between the two of you, and that’s exactly what you did.

“morning susannah,” you smile at her. “can i have some pancakes?”

“absolutely you can!” she exclaims, flipping a pancake over onto a plate. “give me two minutes and they’ll be ready.”

“thanks susannah,” you say then walk over to sit with belly at the table. she smiles at you, her mouth full of pancakes.

“what are you doing today?” she asks you. you shrug.

“dunno. what were you thinking?”

“you should take me driving,” belly smiles cheekily. you laugh. she always asked to go driving ever since you got your license, but you didn’t mind. she had told you before that she trusted you the most to teach her how to drive without being too judgmental.

“sure, bells,” you say. “you can drive me into town to grab some stuff from the store.”

“bonfire tonight, (y/n),” steven turns to face you. “don’t forget.”

you nod. “would never.”

“can i go?” belly asks, looking between the two of you. steven looks at jeremiah then laughs.

“belly, that’s not really your scene,” steven says. “you’ve never gone before.”

“well i wanna go now,” she looks at you. “please?”

you look at steven, who shakes his head. you shrug. “i don’t know, belly. isn’t tonight usually your movie night?”

“it is,” susannah appears with a plate of pancakes for you. you thank her as she sets them down. “but we could always reschedule if belly wanted to go to a party with her siblings.”

“see?” belly says. “even susannah doesn’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“don’t get me too involved, now,” susannah tucks belly’s hair behind her ear. “i have no opinion on the matter except for i want you to do whatever makes you happiest.”

“i think you should come, belly,” jeremiah speaks up for the first time since you’ve gotten downstairs. everyone turns to look at him and he shrugs. he won’t look at you. “it would be fun if you were there.”

“it’s decided then,” belly says. “i’m going with!”

“better make sure it’s okay with mom first,” steven tells her, but she waves him off, finishing her pancakes and going to rinse off her plate.

“(y/n), i’ll be in the pool. come get me when you’re ready to go!”

“thirty minutes after eating before you can swim!” susannah calls out to her, but belly was already gone. susannah shakes her head, but there’s a smile on that face. “that girl.”

soon enough, you and belly are in the car, her driving you both into town. the music was blasting and the windows were down, hair whipping everywhere, but neither of you cared.

“what do you have to get from town?” belly asks.

“some hair stuff and i wanna go to that one boutique we found last year and see if they have anything cute,” you reply. she grins.

“i completely forgot about that place!”

“me too until i was packing for this trip and found my skirt i got from there last year,” you and belly had always looked around different shops in town, mainly window-shopping and judging the clothes that were sold in those shops. they were so extremely over priced and half of them looked like something your grandmother would wear. that was, until last summer, when you found the most gorgeous hot pink skirt on a sale rack at a new boutique. you could not stop thinking about it after you left, so the next day you and belly went back so that you could buy it. you wore that skirt constantly. the thing you remembered most about it was the way that jeremiah had looked at you the first time you had worn it. he made you feel so special just from one look, so that skirt became a staple piece in your wardrobe after that. when you started dating peter, you stopped wearing the skirt. it was such a small, meaningless idea that he looked at you special when you wore a random skirt, but it meant a lot to you at the same time. enough that it felt like betrayal to pack the skirt to bring to cousins, so you left it at home.

you and belly spend the afternoon at the shops, picking out outfits for each other to try and laughing at the ridiculousness you put each other through. as you’re getting ready to leave, before she starts the car, belly turns to you. “(y/n).”

“what’s up bells?”

“have you noticed anything…different, about conrad?” she sounds hesitant to ask you, and almost whispers his name. you sigh.

“sorta,” you say. “i was talking to jere last night and he told me that things were weird with him. he doesn’t know why, but it’s been months. he quit the football team.”

“what!?” belly exclaims. “no way. he loves football, i thought he was gonna play in college.”

you shrug. “so did everyone. he just changed things out of nowhere. jere said that he won’t ever say anything and pretends nothing is wrong, but he hasn’t really tried talking to him. you know how guys are with each other. talking about stuff like that does not come easy.”

belly nods, staring down at the steering wheel. you touch her arm gently. “hey, maybe you should talk to him.”

“me?”

“yeah bells. he’s happier around you, even if you don’t see it. maybe he’ll talk to you.”

she sighs. “i don’t know (y/n). he seems mad at me. like, every time we’ve talked, he is so different,” she glances over at you. “you know how i feel about him. i just…i hate the thought of losing him.”

“you won’t. i promise you, you won’t. he’ll open up. you sure as hell did not do anything wrong, it’s probably just something small he needs to work through. everything will work itself out.”

belly smiles at you gratefully. “thank you, (y/n). i think i would go crazy without you.”

“that is exactly what a big sister is for.”

she starts the car and begins to drive away. “so, another thing… do you think i should be a debutant?”

“a debutant?” you ask, shocked. “belly, when i was considering it last summer you seemed disgusted.”

“i know,” she sighs. “but susannah asked me to do it…and i know she was bummed when you didn’t do it last year so i just figured….” she trails off, but she didn’t have to finish. susannah had asked you last year to be a deb and you were going to do it, you really were. you even started looking for dresses and planning everything. that was, until jeremiah announced that he had no intention of ever being an escort to the deb ball. it had felt like such an indirect that it completely killed all of your interest in the ball. he was the only person you had even considered asking to be your escort, and he so openly hated the idea of being one, so you figured that was a sign that it wasn’t right for you. if you were honest, you always regretted it.

“you should do it,” you say after a while. “you’re right, it would make susannah happy. and i’m sure you’ll have no problem finding an escort. it’d be a lot of fun to watch.”

“you think so?”

“definitely.”

belly nods, but doesn’t say anything, focusing on the road. you do the same thing, staring forward. part of you still wondered if jeremiah would have been your escort if you had asked. the other part of you hates yourself for thinking that you would be the exception.

later that night, you’re standing and staring at your closet, trying to figure out what to wear to the bonfire. you brought a few dresses and skirts, but suddenly, you hated everything you owned. this bonfire was super fun every year and the best way to start out the summer, so you felt so much pressure to pick out something cute.

“hey,” jeremiah appears in your doorway, ready to go. “you about ready?”

“yeah,” you sigh. “just gotta figure out what to wear.”

“hm,” he thinks for a second, walking towards your closet. “you still have that pink skirt from last summer? that was good.”

you look down. “uh, left it at home.”

“oh,” he says, a hint of disappointment in his voice. then, he clears his throat and turns his back to you, facing your clothes. he looks for a second before grabbing a blue sundress and handing it to you. “here. this is perfect.”

you look at the dress and smile. it was one of your favorite dresses, simple and comfortable but super cute. of course jeremiah would pick out a sundress for you to wear. he always claimed that girls in sundresses were his weakness.

“okay. get out so i can change,” you push him out the door and he laughs as you do, allowing you to close the door in his face. you change quickly and find a pair of sandals to go with the dress, check your hair and makeup one last time, then you went downstairs to meet everyone else. conrad and belly were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, steven in the middle of them (which looked like it was awkward for all three of them), and jeremiah sat in the chair by the couch, staring at his phone. when steven sees you come down, he shoots up from his seat and claps his hands. “alright! let’s get going! jere’s driving, i call shotgun!”

you make eye contact with jeremiah who smiles at you after looking you up and down. you feel yourself blush at his gaze. he always did this to you. you felt so special just by him looking at you. it was stupid, honestly. that’s just how he was.

the five of you pile out of the house and into jeremiah’s car, you, conrad, and belly squished into the back while steven and jeremiah sat in the front seat of the car, singing their hearts out to taylor swifts ‘cruel summer.’ they were insane when it came to her music, but neither of them would ever admit it.

as soon as you arrive at the beach, steven jumps out of the car. he’s halfway to the fire by the time you even open your car door, and conrad and jeremiah are following close behind him, leaving you and belly to walk down on your own. you glance over at belly, who is staring at the group of people on the beach, a nervous look on her face. you throw your arm around her. “it’ll be okay bells. it’s actually fun here, promise. just…don’t talk to anyone weird. or too old. and if you get uncomfortable just come find me. we’ll figure it out.”

she smiles at you gratefully. “thank you, (y/n). i’ll be okay. you go have fun with your friends.”

you squeeze her shoulder gently as your friend nicole waves you over. “love you bells.”

“love you too.”

you hurry over to nicole and hug her tightly. “oh, nicole! it’s so good to see you!”

“it’s so good to see you too!” she exclaims. as you pull away from the hug, she offers you a beer and you take it. “how have you been?”

“so good,” you tell her. “the school year was great and i actually have a boyfriend back home!”

“ohhh!!” nicole squeals. “what’s his name? how long have you been together? tell me everything.”

you fill her in on all of the details of your relationship, with her squealing excitedly at the end of almost every sentence. as soon as you finish talking, you feel a hand on your shoulder, and turn to see your friend shayla. it was your turn to squeal in excitement as you hug her tightly, then nicole does the same.

“shayla! i didn’t know you were coming this early!” nicole exclaims. shayla shrugs.

“yeah, mum and dad decided we’d come now rather than later,” shayla replies. “deb season, you know? they want me to be prepared.”

“oh, don’t remind me,” nicole sighs. “i’m helping as a big sister this year. i don’t know if i’m ready to go through it again.”

shayla laughs. “cant be that bad! at least, that’s what i’m telling myself.”

“do you know who’s gonna escort you?” nicole asks. shayla glances at you quickly.

“well, it’s so early, i don’t know…”

nicole scoffs. “shayla, you are the most prepared and efficient person i know. i know you have someone in mind.”

“well,” shayla gives you an embarrassed smile. “i was kinda thinking i would try to get to know steven more. see if he would escort me.”

both of the girls look at you, waiting for your reaction. usually, you hated when girls had a crush on your brother. at school, girls who did would try to become friends with you to get closer to him, and it was tiring. but this was different. shayla was one of the most kind, incredible people you have ever met. you knew she had no ill intentions. also, steven could use a good influence like her in his life. “that sounds like a great idea, shayla.” you say sincerely. she breathes an obvious sigh of relief.

“i’m so glad you said that,” she says. “i would never wanna pursue something if it meant it would hurt our friendship. no man is worth that.”

you nod. “you’re so right.”

nicole’s eyes drift over your shoulder. “i’m, uh…i’ll be right back.”

without either of you replying, she walks away. you watch her as she walks directly to conrad, who had apparently been by himself in that moment. you and shayla look at each other and laugh.

“she is so down bad for him,” shayla says. you nod.

“painful to watch sometimes.”

shayla laughs again. “well, i’ll see you later too, (y/n). i’m gonna go talk to steven.” you grin at her.

“have fun!”

as soon as she walks away and you’re left on your own, your phone buzzes. you pull it out to see a text from peter. finally. it had only been all day since you’d heard from him.

peter: been busy today babe sorry for not replying

peter: at party rn it’s super fun!

peter: look at this video lol there was a tall ass diving board i jumped in fully clothed

peter: (attachment, one video)

you smile at his messages and click on the video he sent you. it took a moment to load, but once it did, you almost dropped your phone in shock. it wasn’t a video of him jumping off the diving board. it was a video of him making out with a random girl. you watch in pure shock, unable to move. as the video goes on, you realize it wasn’t a random girl. it was cassie, your best friend. you watch the video closely, hoping for any sign that this was some sort of a dare or big joke, but there was nothing. they were just heavily making out, his hands up her shirt and her hands in his hair, and someone just happened to be filming on peter’s phone.

peter: oh shit

you stare at your phone for a full minute after the video ended, unsure what to do next. then, looking at your other hand, you knew. you chugged the rest of your beer, found a cooler, and chugged another one. when you started your third one, you felt a hand on your shoulder. “hey.”

you turn around to see jeremiah standing there, smiling at you. “you having fun?” he asks. you nod, chugging almost half of the new beer in one sip.

“so much fun,” you finish off the third beer and go to grab another one, but jeremiah grabs your hand.

“wait, be careful,” he says. “how many have you had?”

“that was like, my first,” you lie, opening a new beer. “don’t worry, jere. i’ll be fine. just having some fun.”

he stares at you, a concerned look on his face. “(y/n), you never drink like this. what’s going on?”

“nothing!” you say cheerfully. “just trying to start the summer out right,” you look around and see a group of people dancing nearby. you take a sip of your beer and motion towards them. “i’m going to dance.”

“(y/n),” jeremiah calls, but you were already stumbling away from him, towards the people dancing. shayla and steven were in that group, shayla doing more dancing than steven was, but both of them looking like they were having fun nonetheless. shayla grins at you as you approach, grabbing your free hand and spinning you around. you giggle and dance with her for a while, finishing off your beer as you do. you were definitely drunk at this point, which wasn’t hard for you, since you were a lightweight. at things like this, you usually stopped at one beer or seltzer, so you definitely were not used to four. it was good, though. it made you forget about peter and cassie betraying you.

it made you forget until now.

if you were honest, it didn’t surprise you as much as you thought it would. cassie had been the one to introduce you to peter, and she always had a weird connection to him. you almost felt stupid for not seeing this coming sooner. most of all though, you were just angry. angry at peter for leading you on and cheating on you. angry at cassie for supposedly being your best friend and then doing this the second you’re not in town. angry at both of them for ruining the one good thing you had in a long time. as you walk towards the beer cooler again, jeremiah catches up to you and grabs your arm, holding you back. “okay, no. i’m cutting you off, (y/n).”

“let go of me,” you grumble quietly, trying to free yourself from his grip, but he was much stronger than you. he grabbed your other arm so you were forced to face him.

“(y/n), what’s going on with you?”

“nothing!” you yell at him, catching the attention of a few people around you, but you were too far gone to care. “nothings going on with me! i’m just trying to have a good time, okay?”

jeremiah smiles awkwardly at a few people around you, trying to divert the attention away from the two of you. “i know you, (y/n). why are you acting like this? you’re never like this.”

“so what?” you say. “so what if i am?”

a few girls call jeremiah’s name and attempt to wave him over to them, but he ignores them. “come on, we should get you home.”

“i don’t wanna go home,” you say hardly, looking him in the eyes. he looks genuinely concerned for you. somehow, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “i wanna stay here.”

“(y/n)…” he’s cut off by the sound of police sirens and people yelling and scrambling around to pick up the beer cans and leave quickly. jeremiah swears under his breath and grabs your hand, pulling you away from the beach. “guess you have no choice.”

the two of you run towards his car, following everyone else who was running away from the scene. you look around frantically, but can’t find belly, conrad, or steven. “jere, wait, where’s everyone else?”

jeremiah shakes his head. “i’ll find them in a second. gotta get you to the car.”

“but belly, jere,” you say. “she’s probably scared shitless.”

he shakes his head again. “she found someone to hang out with. i’m sure she’s with him. i’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“but—“

“i’ll find her, (y/n).” he cuts you off. “just please get in the car first.” at this point, he sounds like he’s begging you. you look him in his eyes but have to look away quickly. the desperation in his expression was too painful to look at. you nod.

“okay.”

he squeezes your hand then opens the passenger door for you, allowing you to climb in. “i’ll be right back, okay? stay here.”

and with that, he’s running back towards the beach like he was superman. at that moment, it felt like he was, honestly. running back towards the cops in order to save everyone else. you weren’t sure that you knew many people who would do that. while you’re still alone in the car, you pull out your phone to finally reply to peter, who had texted you again, five times.

peter: (y/n) omg i’m so sorry

peter: wrong video but i swear it’s not what it looks like

peter: we’re both so drunk we were dared to do it and that’s why it was recorded

peter: please (y/n) please we didn’t mean it

peter: please believe me

you: fuck you

and with that, you block his number, and set your phone down. you wonder if you would have that much confidence if you were sober. you wonder if you would believe him if you were sober. it was a good thing that you weren’t, you figured. it was for the best. two months didn’t have to mean much, right? just a silly little mistake you made to date him that ended badly, but it didn’t matter, right? yeah your best friend betrayed you, but no worries, right?

suddenly, you realize that you are crying. sobbing, actually. uncontrollable sobs escape from your lips and you sit in the dark car, alone, sobbing your heart out. how was this fair? what did you do to deserve to lose your best friend and boyfriend all at once? the fact that if he hadn’t accidentally sent you that video then you never would have known made it worse. it made you wonder if this had been going on for a while, and he had just slipped up now. you could not stop crying.

even when the car doors opened and jeremiah slid into the seat next to you, you could not stop crying. he looks at you, shocked. “(y/n)?” he asks softly, unsure. the rest of the car is quiet, but you could feel everyone else’s presence in the backseat. you shake your head.

“i’m… i’m fine,” you say unconvincingly. “i’ll be, i’ll be okay.” you nod at jeremiah, who was staring at you with the same desperation on his face from before. he seems unconvinced, but starts the car, glancing at you again before he drives away. in the dark, he reaches over and grabs your hand, holding it tightly in his. you continue to cry silently for the rest of the ride home, squeezing his hand with both of yours.

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Chapter 3 - To Have and To Hold

A Mafia!Steve Harrington AU (featuring Mafia!Eddie Munson)

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Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Weddings should be joyous occasions but the union of two families only brings about distant memories and yearning for a life that could have been. Stolen glances and longing stares across the room, and finally finding yourself face to face with the one person who can change the future.

18+ Only! Minors DNI! (Future smut and mature themes!)

CW: Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Dove." Pet names. Slow burn. Exes to lovers. Mutual pining. Angst. Lots of tension. Spousal abuse - reader is assaulted and choked.

WC: 5.9K

Days at the gallery quickly turned into long nights. Sometimes not going home until the wee hours of the morning. After the last few interactions with Nik you decided it was best to avoid him altogether.

He'd never set foot in here, for which you were grateful. It was your own oasis from a life that was suddenly so stifling, drowning you without a life preserver in sight.

It was easy enough, the two of you had been sleeping in separate bedrooms for a couple of years now.

You would rather take an acid bath than let him touch you. Sex became completely non-existent when he'd started coming home with lipstick stained collars and trying to push himself onto you knowing he'd just fucked God knows who else, any illusion of a loving, dedicated husband completely dissolved.

You hadn't seen or heard from Steve since the day he'd bought that painting. You found yourself wondering where he might have hung it. It was one of your favorites and knowing it went to a good home warmed your heart.

Abigail knocked you from your current train of thought when she walked over to you with a massive bouquet of white roses.

“Mrs. Petrov, these were just delivered for you, though the card says Ms. Alexander. An old client perhaps?” You shifted the flowers from her arms as she spoke, their delicate scent faintly surrounding you.

“Thank you.” You called out, already heading to your office.

You gently laid them down on the desk, plucking the card from between the soft petals.

You couldn't help the smile that crept across your face as you opened it to read the contents, already suspecting who they were from. No one else in this town would dare use your surname anymore.

Passed the flower shop and thought of you. Hope they brighten your day.

S.H.

You immediately looked for an empty vase in the storage closet to display them on your desk, hiding the card away in the bottom drawer.

It wasn't unusual for clients to send you flowers from time to time, so it didn't seem out of the ordinary.

Much to your delight, it didn't stop there. A fresh bouquet was delivered every few days from that point forward. Not just roses, something unique each time all accompanied with a personalized note signed S.H.

His small way of showing you he was still here while reluctantly maintaining his distance.

For two weeks the flowers and notes never ceased but you still hadn't seen Steve.

There was a wedding slated for the weekend between two prominent families that you had to attend.

Finding yourself in need of a new dress, you were browsing the brightly lit showroom, admiring a very beautiful lilac colored floor length gown in the corner when he spoke.

“That's not your color. Much too pale. What about that one?” You rolled your eyes as he pointed to a deep red, lacey, eye-catching number across the store.

“It's for a wedding, Steven. The attention shouldn't be on me.” You quipped. “And that shows far too much skin.” Turning away, as you began to rummage through a few dresses on the rack.

“If you say so, but you're the only one I'll be looking at.” You stopped, hands stilling on the silk in front of you as you processed his words.

“You're going Saturday?” Managing to squeak out, despite the sudden lump in your throat.

It shouldn't really come as a surprise. All of the big named families had been invited. Maybe you were expecting Steve to be more like Richard in that regard. Send his well wishes but decline the invitation.

“Of course, Dove. Can't miss the wedding of the century. A Gambino marrying a Stratori? It's unheard-of.” He made a mock gasping sound that made you snort a small laugh.

“You should have seen the looks at my…” trailing off when you realized what you were about to say. It wasn't so long ago an Alexander marrying a Petrov was big news.

“Anyway, doesn't matter. I won't be going if I don't find something to wear.” Quickly changing the subject back to the matter at hand.

“Trust me, you'll look good in anything. Wear a potato sack and you’ll still be the most beautiful woman there.” His doting words and simple praises never let up when he was around you.

Your soft blushing and sweet smiles only encouraged him further, reminding him of the younger versions of you both. These moments he would hang onto for forever if need be.

You stared at him a moment, the way the sun filtering through the window cast a glow around him, appearing almost ethereal. His skin tanned by an Italian sun, making his freckles and moles only more prominent. Those same ones you would trace across his back, finding the constellations hidden within.

Your lips twitched at the thought of kissing those same marks, as a deeper blush crept your cheeks that had you quickly looking back to the dresses laid out before you, clearing your throat.

“Steve, I…” Mouth snapping closed when you weren't sure what you were attempting to say.

“What is it, tesoro?” Looking back at you expectantly, eyes soft, giving you his full attention.

“Thank you for the flowers. They're lovely, all of them, but you don't have to do that.” Your gaze drops momentarily as he regards you for a moment.

“Let me ask you something. Do they make you smile?”

“Well, of course.” A grin lifting the edges of your mouth you couldn't contain.

“Then yes, Dove. I have to send them. At least I know for one fleeting moment of the day I've had the pleasure of making you smile.”

You both stilled for a moment, silently gazing at one another.

“Excuse me? Can I help either of you?” One of the associates had walked over, interrupting the small moment.

You smiled at her, asking for a couple of dresses to try on in your size.

“Right away, Mrs. Petrov. And for you sir?” Looking back toward Steve, eyeing him up and down as she spoke. A small scowl of contempt passed over her momentarily, oblivious to who she was speaking to.

“Nothing for me today, thank you. I'll see myself out, momentarily.”

She nodded and walked toward the back to gather the dresses you had asked for.

“I suppose I'll see you tomorrow then.” Finally looking back to him, reluctantly getting ready to take your leave and follow her into the dressing room.

“Of course, Dove.” He says, leaning in close. “I still think the red would be a better choice.” Voice dropping an octave lower, winking as a shameless grin spread across his face.

His persistence had you fondly rolling your eyes, but a grin matching his own spread across your features.

“I think I'll find something a little less salacious but thank you for the suggestion.” Laughing as you walked away, a sound that was like music to his ears as he took his leave.

You glanced back once more, as you reached the back, but he was already gone.

The associate had gotten a large, very well-lit room ready for you. The dresses you had asked for were already on display, hung up across the back wall as you entered.

“This should be all of them. Will there be anything else Mrs. Petrov? Shall I stay and help you try any of them on?” She asked kindly.

“That won’t be necessary but thank you.”

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone with some of the fanciest garments that money could buy yet you stood there feeling hollow, sighing deeply to yourself.

You slid the first dress from its silk hanger. A lilac gown with beautifully beaded detail on the bodice. Once you had managed to get it on, you stood in front of the mirror with a grimace. Steve was right, it was much too pale. You hated that he was right. A man who barely knows you anymore and still knows too much.

It was much the same as you tried on each one of the expensive gowns. None of them seemed quite right. Either the color was off, or it didn’t fit quite right leaving you empty handed on the way out.

Later that afternoon, the sun was setting low, as you worked through a few things before you would reluctantly head home for the evening.

Abigail enthusiastically walked toward you with a large black box, wrapped with a red, silk ribbon and a large matching bow on top.

“Mrs. Petrov, this was just delivered for you. It's from Figueroa.”

The dress shop you had visited earlier in the day. Confusion spread across your face, as you took it from her opting to open it in your office and dismissing her for the day.

You gently lifted the edges, immediately met with matching red tissue paper and a small, white card that simply read: This was ALWAYS your color. See you tomorrow.

You pushed aside the wrapping to reveal a deep, burgundy colored gown held within. The material was a beautiful velvet, soft to the touch, letting your fingers melt into the fabric as you pulled it from the box. It was stunning. A mermaid cut, with long sleeves dropped for the sweetheart neckline that would show some cleavage. It was sexy yet stayed somewhat moderate.

You didn't remember seeing this one in the store because it would have surely caught your eye.

Steve always had good taste. It came as no surprise he chose something that you would have picked out for yourself.

You hid the card in the desk, amongst the ones that have accompanied the flowers, hiding away any evidence of where the dress had come from. Your insides twisted at the thought of hiding him away forever. It was never meant to be this way with Steve.

You gripped the edges of the box on the ride home with a permanent smile etched across your face at the thought of seeing him tomorrow, if only for a brief moment, you would be the one to make him smile.

You sat in silence, staring out the window, ignoring the grunts and protests from Nik.

“I shouldn't even be going to this stupid wedding. I've got shit to do at the club tonight.” Huffing out like a petulant child, pushing his back further into the seat.

You simply rolled your eyes and tried to picture yourself literally anywhere else. The thought of spending the entire evening by his side turned your stomach. All dolled up to be HIS arm candy, but it would be your secret who you were dressed FOR.

“Hey, are you going to talk to me? You've got to play the part sometime tonight.” He grabbed for your hand, but you swiftly moved away from his touch at the faintest brush.

“I'll play along in public, but do not fucking touch me when we are alone. I don't know where your filthy hands have been. Or who they've been in, for that matter.” You spat, already over his behavior.

He let out a deep, hearty laugh, throwing his head back.

“Someone is feisty. I like it.” Grabbing your knee, laughing once again when you pushed him away. “Oh, come on baby. Give us a kiss.”

“Fuck off, Nik.” You hissed.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. The feeling is mutual.” He straightened back up in his seat, promptly lighting a cigarette, blowing the smoke your way.

“Do you mind? I don't want to smell like smoke before we get there.” Waving it away from you and your face, letting out a small cough.

“Aw, don't want your new dress to smell like smoke?” He chuckled, pinching the fabric at your side. “Poor baby.”

Your hand tightened around the clutch you held in your lap, as you closed your eyes holding back your anger as best you could, seething just below the surface. You just had to get through a couple of hours, saying pleasantries and having lighthearted conversation while rubbing a few elbows with certain people.

Calming your nerves as best you could, taking a few deep breaths and slowly opening your eyes once more.

Nik was distracted on his phone, leaving you for a few moments of peace before you pulled up to the venue.

The driver came around to open his door first, but Nik made no attempt to come around to your side to let you out, making the driver go around to open your door as well. A real gentleman.

“Let's get this over with. I've got shit to do.” Finally coming to stand beside you, extending his elbow for you to take.

“You've already said that.” You hissed, reluctantly taking his arm as you headed toward the entrance. “Just fucking behave Nik, you can't act like an ass in front people tonight.”

As much as you hated your husband, he still had a portion of business to uphold with many of the attendees tonight. Your father's reputation was at stake just being associated with the prick.

“I'll do as I damn well please.” He hissed back through gritted teeth, glaring down at you as you entered the large room. Ignoring him, you will yourself to throw on the best fake smile that you could muster.

The wedding was being held downtown, at one of the oldest buildings. Its gothic architecture and high ceilings were a beautiful backdrop for a wedding.

Nik made a beeline for some of his associates, immediately grabbing some champagne from one of the waitresses as he pulled you along. It didn’t go unnoticed the way he so blatantly eyed her up and down as he passed.

You busied yourself looking around at the decor, sipping your own champagne trying to ignore the conversation he was having around you. Some things you couldn’t understand at all as he spoke in his native tongue. When you had first gotten married you took an interest in learning Russian but that quickly subsided as your marriage started falling apart.

The room quieted down to a dull murmur when he entered. His very presence commanded the attention of everyone present. Heads began to turn his way, all clambering to catch a glimpse of the so-called prodigal son of Richard Harrington as he made his entrance, his first public outing since the funeral.

He ignored the hushed whispers around him, walking in with Eddie falling right in behind him, the crowd parting as he made his way to pay respect to the happy couple.

He looked as handsome as ever sporting a black suit, with his hair slicked back and quaffed perfectly but his burgundy shirt and tie beneath his buttoned suit jacket is what really caught your eye. It was the exact color of your dress. A detail that brought a small smile to your face.

“Who the hell does he think he is?” Nik scoffed, as some of the other men chuckled, pulling your attention back to the small group.

He downed the rest of his champagne, eyes never leaving Steve, following his movements across the crowded space.

“I need something a little more stiff, come on.” He grabbed your arm, pushing his way through the crowd to get to the bar, dragging you along beside him. The abruptness caught you off guard. For a moment, you wabbled on your heels.

“Nik, you need to take it easy tonight.” You whispered through gritted teeth.

“And you,” he hissed. “Should shut the fuck up.” He gripped your arm a little tighter as you reached the bar tucked away in the corner before ordering a bourbon, downing it in one gulp, slamming the glass back down. He would never outwardly push it out in the open like this, showing his true colors but it was surprising, nonetheless.

He finally relinquished his grip to grab his next one, turning to meet his associates as they began to huddle around him, picking up their conversations from before leaving him to ignore you once more.

Steve spotted you as soon as he walked through the door, smirking to himself. The dress he had picked out fit you spectacularly, showing off your curves while staying somewhat modest. You were breathtaking.

Reluctantly, his attention drew back to the matter at hand as he made his way through the crowd to greet the wedding party and their family, wishing them the best.

Steve quickly made his rounds, shaking hands and chatting with some familiar faces or some new introducing themselves, but he couldn't keep his eyes off of you.

He and Eddie grabbed some flutes of champagne, chatting amongst themselves in the corner where he temporarily lost you in the crowd, but quickly caught up with you again heading toward the bar with Nik.

His jaw ticked seeing the way he gripped you, pulling you alongside him.

Eddie noticed how he stiffened, following his line of vision over to you just in time for them both to witness his hold on you grow a little more harsh.

Steve took a step before Eddie moved abruptly in front of him, halting him with a palm to his chest.

“Steve. Not here.” Eddie warned, as he looked past him once more. You had already moved away from Nik, standing to the side of the bar.

Eddie was right. This was not the time or place to lose his head, but it didn't mean they couldn't have a little chat.

You heard him before you saw him, heart promptly leaping into your throat when you realized he was headed in your direction, but he only caught your gaze nodding slightly and greeted Nik instead.

Realizing you could do nothing but stand there and watch as the scene unfolds, you downed the rest of your champagne bracing for the worst.

“Nik, gentlemen. How are we all doing this evening?” Asking with that charming Harrington tone, as Eddie hung slightly behind them, hands in his pockets, looking relaxed but you could tell he was anything but.

Nik’s amusement seemed to fade, his smile dropping, moving the glass to his lips for another sip. He stood up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders to the other man.

“Harrington.” Nodding back, as the others stated their own greetings.

“Didn't expect you to show up here. Your father never came to shit like this.” He sneered.

“Well, little Niki, like I told you the other day, we aren't our fathers. And I, for one, am striving to be a better man than he was. We should all strive to be better men, right?” Leveling his gaze right at your husband as he spoke.

A flash of anger split Nik's face before regaining his composure, already a little too much to drink to effectively conceal his emotions. The nickname he gained in his youth that he had come to detest, trying to live up to the elder Nikolai, his father, always falling in his shadow. Something that he and Steve had in common however they chose very different avenues to deal with it.

“Right.” Scoffing, as he set his glass back to the bar, taking a small step toward Steve, once again squaring his shoulders. “Any suggestions on how I should go about that, since you're doling out the advice today? I'm all ears.”

“I don't know, Nik. Maybe the old ways of handling business are outdated? Kind of like, oh I don't know?” Pausing, pretending to think for a moment. “Raising a hand to your spouse to keep them in line? That shit just doesn't work and makes you look bad.”

Your cheeks suddenly heated at the bluntness of his insinuation, hoping no one looked over at you.

“And what the fuck would you know about business? Last time I checked, you were still riding daddy's coattails.” Leaning further into Steve’s space as he spoke trying to make himself more intimidating, but he stood his ground, not so easily dissuaded.

Eddie made to move forward, but Steve quickly held a hand out, halting him.

Nik's raised voice began garnering a little attention their way as you scanned the other guests standing close by.

“I'm just saying.” Taking a step toward Nik this time, both men practically nose to nose. “Sometimes it's better to get with the program, or you could lose everything.”

“Are you threatening me?” Nik spat.

Steve let out a small chuckle, shaking his head as he stepped back, reminding himself once more that he couldn’t lose it here.

“Trust me, you would know if it's a threat. Just some friendly advice.” He clapped him on the arm as if they were old chums, sharing a good laugh which only infuriated Nik further.

“You can take your friendly advice and shove it u…” One of Nik's associates got in between the two and tried to calm him down. Steve was trying to goad him to gauge his reaction and he had taken the bait flawlessly.

“Well, gentlemen if you'll excuse me, we are here for a wedding after all.” He nodded, as he and Eddie headed back across the room, leaving you a little speechless in the process.

“I don't know who the fuck he thinks he is.” Nik began to rant, so you decided to leave him and make your way to your chair for the ceremony. You also hoped he would cool off before coming to find you as other guests began to fill the empty seats around you.

You caught Steve out of the corner of your eye as he passed, taking a seat across the aisle, one row up on the end.

The ceremony was beautiful with a blushing young bride and a handsome groom. They seemed genuinely happy and for their sakes you hoped it were true.

You couldn't help but feel sadness now thinking back to your own wedding. The joy and hopefulness that day brought only to be a complete fabrication.

As the couple said their vows, your eyes found his across the aisle, as if he had already been looking toward you. There seemed to be a sadness etched within him as well, his eyes lacking their usual sparkle.

Images flashed and danced through your mind of a life that could have been. A fall wedding, surrounded by your closest friends and family. Honeymooning on the Italian coast and coming back to a home full of love and promise without any doubts.

Steve would have given you the world without any hesitation. He loved fiercely, willing to do whatever it took to make you happy. He made it so damn easy to see what a bright future lay ahead for both of you.

You hadn't noticed a tear escaping until it rolled down your cheek, and onto your hand situated in your lap, suddenly bringing you crashing back to reality.

He was still looking at you when you diverted your gaze away, because it was all too much. Your chest ached as the couple kissed, concluding their vows and made their way down the aisle, now united in holy matrimony with smiles gracing their happy faces. It was suddenly too suffocating.

“I have to go to the restroom.” Excusing yourself from Nik’s side, not waiting for his response, quickly dashing out the side door into the empty hallway.

You breathed a small sigh of relief, briefly pausing, your hand leaning against the wall to steady yourself and regain some composure.

You willed yourself to conceal your emotions as you began to make your way down the corridor but as you rounded the corner someone grabbed your forearm. Your back was suddenly met with a warm chest, taking you by surprise. Their large hand clasping over your mouth stifling any noise from escaping you, as they step further back with you in tow, closing the door.

Before you had time to react, his soothing voice washed over you.

“It's okay, Dove. It's just me.” His lips so close, ghosting the shell of your ear as he spoke. He waited a moment for it to register before he removed his hand from your face, finding the light switch.

“Steve! What the hell?” Saying as you swung around to face him, your pulse racing from the small scare. He had pulled you into a small, dimly lit utility closet, away from prying eyes and just big enough for the two of you.

“I'm sorry, honey it's the only place I could get you alone.” He shrugged, shifting toward you, with a small pout.

“I shouldn't be in here.” You reached for the handle, but he was quick to place his hand overtop yours, effectively halting your movement.

“I couldn't let you leave without telling you how beautiful you look.” He whispered, closing the small gap between you, his hand coming to rest on your hip, heat radiating from his palm. His touch was searing, even through the fabric of your gown.

“I saw this on the way out of the shop and had them match the shirt and tie perfectly.” He inches just a little more into your space, releasing the hold on your hand so he could plant it firmly to your lower back pushing you further into him.

Your hands find the expanse of his chest, holding yourself steady, feeling as though your knees could give out at any moment. He had unbuttoned his suit jacket, your palms finding the warmth beneath, flat against his silk shirt.

He didn't need to utter it aloud. The dress. The tie. It was his way of subtly staking claim to you. You were and always had been his.

“Steve, what are you doing? You can't exactly woo a married woman. Especially one married to someone as powerful as Nik. He…” You stopped, when you saw the look in his eyes, utterly and completely gone for you.

“I don't have to woo what's already mine.” His voice low and husky, dripping with desire.

“That’s very presumptuous of you, Mr. Harrington.” You breathed out, trying to maintain your cool but even you could hear the waiver in your voice.

No matter the distance or time, you couldn't forget this man no matter how hard you tried. He would simply not let you. It felt like torture to be this close to him now, yet so far away.

Your head kept telling you that you needed to run, but you couldn't find it in yourself to move. You were transfixed, gazing up into his golden, mossy framed orbs.

You let your eyes trail his features. A small scar above his left eyebrow that had been there for years, a memento of his childhood. The way his lips had the perfect cupid's bow and remembering just the way he tastes.

He leans down looking for any sign of trepidation, finding none; your face mirroring his own, full of unspoken adoration.

“You're not denying it, tesoro. Just tell me you want this, as much as I do.” His nose traces down the slope of yours as he speaks. Your heart hammering so hard in your chest, you were sure he could hear it beating.

“Amore mio.” You whisper, top lip grazing his, releasing a shuddering breath before the realization of what you'd just said fully hit.

You'd never spoken those simple words to anyone else, only ever reserved for Steve. He had taught you some phrases in Italian, mostly sweet talk. You were always his tesoro mio and he, your amore mio.

You lean back, clasping a hand over your mouth as he was fully leaning in, eyes closed, lips chasing yours.

“Oh my God!” You gasp out, pressing yourself backward, stumbling a bit in your heels but he catches your elbow as you regain your balance.

“Dove?” He asks, voice low, coming out a little timidly.

“I… We can't do this Steve!” He can see your internal conflict and what he can only infer as fear written all over your face. It dawns on him then. The way you had winced when he grabbed your arm at the gallery. The way Nik had pulled you through the room earlier.

“Dove, did he hurt you?” His hand on your elbow begins to draw you back in, laying his other to your jaw, coaxing your face toward him but you still refuse to look up, eyes cast downward.

“No, Steve. You just… you don't know what he's capable of.” Your eyes grow glossy, tears threatening to spill over your lashes and ruining your makeup.

“Hey, honey, I'm not worried about him.” He does his best to soothe you, speaking softly. “If anyone should be worried, it's him. You hear me? Look at me.” Gently, his thumb grazes your bottom lip.

“Dove, look at me.” Pleading one last time, his voice was raw and pained.

“Steve, I can't…” Your eyes finally meet his, tears spilling out and down your cheeks. He does his best to wipe them away when his hands come to cup your cheeks. “I…I’m sor…”

“Shhh… no need for that, tesoro mio.” He doesn't want to let you go, but he's afraid of pushing you further away.

He leans in, warm lips press into your forehead as your eyes close. A tender embrace, your hand coming to grip his wrist holding him in place for a moment longer before quietly slipping from his hold.

You wipe your tears, pausing with your hand on the handle, looking back over your shoulder at him.

“It's better if you stay away from me.” Whispering out without waiting for a reply, quickly opening the door and checking the hall before stepping out. Your footsteps are the only sound echoing down the corridor as you walk toward the restroom to clean yourself up.

The interaction only lasted a few minutes, but the feeling of his hands and lips still lingered on your skin.

“It's better if you stay away from me.”

He blows out a deep breath but doesn't say anything.

Better for who? He bitterly thinks. Certainly not better for him. You're all he's thought about since returning. It's driving him insane.

He can't bring himself to think about you with Nik. The asshole getting to have you all to himself. He can touch, kiss or bed you anytime he pleases. The thought makes him sick, but the brief interaction solidifies what he already knew to be true.

When he heard “amore mio” glide past your lips so easily, he knew he still had you. His heart ached to hear you say that just once more, something he hadn't heard uttered in so long, nearly taking his breath away. You're still his.

He waits a few more moments, letting you get ahead of him before he makes sure the coast is clear and exits the closet.

Heading in the opposite direction and rounding the corner, he spots Eddie leaning against the wall smirking at him.

“Everything okay, boss?” His grin drops, shoving himself off the wall seeing the annoyed look plastered to Steve's face. Not what he had expected.

“No, but it will be. We're leaving.” Grunting out as he continues to walk, leaving Eddie to catch up to his stride.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, wiping the makeup that had run. It took a few minutes, but you made yourself presentable.

Nik was waiting for you right outside the bathroom, crossing his arms giving you a death glare when you spotted him.

“What the hell have you been doing?” He hissed.

“I had to pee, and the wedding made me emotional, so I cleaned myself up. I can't go to the reception looking like a mess.” Responding, as you headed past him, but he grabbed your arm. The one he's so fond to take here lately when you get out of line.

“We're going home.” He spat, getting in your face for a moment before a cruel smile stretched across his face as his whole demeanor changed.

“Kitten, I know you're tired, it's been a long hard day.” Ushering you out into the reception area, pulling you through the crowd toward the exit, holding tightly to your wrist as if you would try to flee at any moment.

The car was already waiting outside, as he ushered you inside and slammed the door. You held your breath when he sat down beside you and began to loosen his tie, unbuttoning the restricting collar.

Silence for a few moments as you head back home to your prison.

“Do you think I'm fucking stupid?” He finally asks, turning his head slowly toward you.

“Wh– What?” You asked meekly, shrinking into yourself.

“I asked if you think I'm fucking stupid?” Enunciating each word a little slower and more clipped.

You furrowed your brow, trying to decipher where he was going. Had he seen you and Steve exit the closet?

“Where'd the dress come from?”

“My dress?” You tried to stay calm, looking down at the velvet fabric. He'd put those small crumbs together.

“The dress Y/N. That fucker bought it for you, didn't he? Didn't think I'd notice his goddamn matching shirt and tie? You two think you're really cute.” He clenched his fists on his lap, as his jaw ticked. He was anything but calm right now and the dam was about to burst.

“Nik… I…” He suddenly lunged at you, hand around your throat pushing you back into the seat. You gasped out in surprise, as he pressed in just a little harder, fingers flexing and cutting off your air supply. Your hand flew up to clutch at his, grasping and desperately trying to pry him away.

He leaned in close, gritting his teeth as he spoke.

“Its like you want me the fucking hurt you, leaving me no choice. Pull a stunt like that again, and not even your father will be able to protect you.”

He eases back, placing a chaste kiss to your temple before releasing his hold on you. Your airway opened, leaving you gasping in a heavy breath while letting out a small, choked sob.

“I warned you.” His last words for the evening, before lighting a cigarette and thoroughly ignoring you, taking a phone call leaving you to sulk in the corner.

He dropped you off at home, no doubt heading to his club, but you were grateful to be left alone for the night hoping for some miracle that he wouldn’t come back home at all.

You drew yourself a hot bath, letting the magnitude of everything that had transpired wash over you.

The wedding brought up so many morose thoughts and feelings. Steve blatantly threatening Nik, Nik threatening you, it was all too much.

Your fingertips graze your cheek where his hand had been not long ago. If you closed your eyes, you could feel him still, imaging he was here with you. His touch had electrified you. Something you had never felt with anyone else. A feeling of being totally alive. The gray, dreary past melting and giving way to a future full of bright color.

“Steve.” You whispered out, pulling your knees into your chest, as you cried.

Lying to yourself would be useless. Steve was everything that Nik never was or would be. Years apart and he still holds your heart. You were still in love with him, just knowing he felt the same was all you needed.

You had to think of a plan, while still trying to maintain your distance until Nik was out of the picture.

This was a very dangerous game, but you couldn't bear the thought of letting him go a second time.

No, you wouldn't let that happen this time.

Taglist: @micheledawn1975 @girlwiththerubyslippers @thecreelhouse @teen--marvel @taccobelle

Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

[still-alive-mp3]

woah me actually pulling through with an edit??!?!! And it’s an inanimate insanity one?!??!? Holy woah

[oddballwriter]

Reader fangirling over moon knight not knowing it was steven/marc/Jake? 🎃

Under Your Nose

Warnings: Not much other than the moon boys lying to you and keeping a secret from you. Also the idea of walking alone at night while drunk. 

Author’s Snip: I am so sorry, I literally forgot that this was in my inbox. Sorry for the long wait.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 764

They found it kind of funny. In a sense. You had no idea that the vigilante that you've been fixating on is actually your boyfriends. You didn't live with them so you wouldn't know that them leaving for something was actually them going on a mission. It also kept you from connecting the dots that whenever they leave, Moon Knight's out and about.

They liked to hear your praise. In a way, you not knowing that it's them made your positive comments more genuine because, to you, Moon Knight was just a crime fighter that you would hear about, and so the influence of them being your boyfriends didn't make way for a bias. There were, however, sometimes there were cases where they barely managed to keep the secret.

One night, there was a gang that the boys had to take care of that put up more of a fight than they thought they would and left the system sore from having to fight back and defend. When the next day came, Steven, who was fronting at the time, decided to pay you a visit. But you were able to tell that he was stiff. When you asked, Steven threw the explanation that Jake was fronting last night and he had done an intense workout. You took it and so it was left at that. "Well, then how about we lay down and watch something so you can feel better, yeah?" you recommend. Steven just nodded with a smile,

Next came the time that you had gone out with friends to a bar and had more drinks than you usually do. You decided to walk to the boys' flat since you were not sober and didn't have a ride, and it was closer to the bar than your place. Maybe you should have texted them as a heads-up to your sudden arrival, but by the time you thought of that you were already going up in the elevator.

When you knocked, there wasn't an answer. Maybe they were asleep, it was pretty late after all. After remembering that they had given you a spare key, you unlock it and let yourself in, trying to be as quiet as you can. But looking around, no one was even home. You figured that maybe Jake was cabbing around town or Marc was on a late-night walk. With that idea in mind, you shot them a text telling them that you were at their place and why before taking a quick shower. changing into some clothes you had there, and promptly falling asleep in their bed.

Marc was there in the morning making you some breakfast. He of course, just confirmed that he was out for a stroll around the block because he couldn't sleep, even though he was patrolling. If anything he seemed more concerned that you walked there alone drunk in the dead of night. "I'm fine. It was just a ten-minute walk here." you shrug off. "Still, I don't like the idea of you walking alone like that when it's dark out." Marc said. "I'm surprised we didn't run into each other to be honest." you remark.

And then there was Jake. He had to deal with getting information out of someone and he figured that the best way was the old 'talk in a chair' way. But as it turns out, that guy was more of a hassle than he thought too. He put up a good fight and actually got him good with a punch to the face that damaged his nose. But they always, lose when it's Jake so he got his way in the end. But when you came over the next day, again, you say the bandage and got worried. "It's nothing, beba. I had this guy in my cab. He was drunk off his ass and being a pain. When I looked at him to tell him to knock it off he socked me in the nose." Jake lied. He could still see the concern on your face as to gently touched his bandage. "I'll be fine." he said as he kissed you on the forehead.

It's not that the boys want to keep lying to you. If anything all three hate it. But they feel this air of worry when thinking about you knowing too. They know it's dumb. And they know that they can't keep up the secret for long since they want you to be in their lives. But they just need to think of how to bring it up to you at some point.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Til Death Do Us Part

A Steddie oneshot

Eddie was sitting in Steve's house. . .well, actually lying in Steve's house. He was still pretty banged up, and considering the town still thought he was a murderer, he needed to hide out for a while, and Steve Harrington's was the perfect place. It still felt weird to think that Steve was a good guy, but it was much too evident, and it made Eddie realize that he jumped to conclusions as quickly as others did about him. It's weird how connected they are now. First through Dustin, then through trauma, and now through bat bites. These scars were going to be more permanent than a marriage certificate. Who would have thought that he would be married with a kid by age 20. . .with Steve Harrington of all people? The thought made him laugh.

"What are you laughing about in here?" Steve asked as he popped into the room.

"I was thinking that these bat bites of ours are pretty permanent," Eddie smirked. "We're practically married."

"We are not married," Steve scoffed.

"Are you telling me we're getting divorced?" Eddie asked with a gasp. "So soon. . .oh, sweetheart, tell me what I did so I can make it up to you! Think of the kids, Steve!"

"Well, you didn't listen to me when I told you not to be a hero, so there's that," Steve said. "Not to mention the fact that you made Lucas feel bad about playing basketball, and you divided him and his friends as well as his sister. So, there's that as well."

"Shit, yeah, I do deserve the divorce," Eddie said, wincing and looking remorseful. "I'm not much better than my father, am I?"

"Hey, that not - I didn't mean it like that, Eddie. I'm sorry. Yeah, it's too soon to joke about it," Steve said softly. "Did you apologize to the kids? I mean, you did. I was there."

"Well, yeah," Eddie muttered.

"Was your dad actually sorry for anything he ever did? Would he have done what you did and tried to buy us more time? Would he have found a place for lost sheep to go to?" Steve asked.

"Well, no," Eddie admitted.

"Than you're a better man than your father ever will be," Steve shrugged. "Hold on."

Steve left the room, and a moment later, he returned with his pillow. He placed it on the bed next to him.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked.

"Sleeping with my husband," Steve said.

"So, no divorce then?" Eddie asked with a grin.

"Are you kidding me? No way, I'm raising these hellions without a partner," Steve said. "You said it, we're married. Til death do us part, asshole."

"Goodnight, Mr. Munson," Eddie grinned.

He laughed as he sank down onto the bed beside Steve, who leaned over to turn off the light. He was thankful that Steve left the light on. Eddie watched as his husband closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. A deep wave of affection came over him as he studied Steve’s features. Oh, shit, what was that? Was he developing feelings for his husband? He liked girls. . .right? No, it was just indigestion. Eddie sighed with relief and closed his eyes.

"Steven, why are you sleeping with a man?" Robin's voice floated into Eddie's ears.

Eddie's eyes slowly opened, and he groaned quietly against the morning light streaming through the window. Steve was on his back, his eyes closed. Robin was standing over him, her hands on her hips.

"Oh my God, Robin, you can't just ask why two men are sleeping together this early in the morning," Steve groaned, his eyes remaining closed.

"Is there something you want to tell me, buddy?" Robin asked.

"Ugh, can't a guy sleep with his husband without any third degree?" Steve asked.

Neither one of them had noticed that Eddie was awake, much to Eddie's amusement.

"His what?!" Robin exclaimed and Eddie nearly laughed.

"Eddie said last night that the bat bites made us practically married," Steve said and groaned. "Don't make a big deal out of it, Robin. We're platonically married."

"Okay, I'll just let the kids know that their Daddies won't come downstairs because they're too busy platonically sleeping together," Robin said dryly. "It doesn't look platonic to me."

"Robin, stop, he doesn't like me that way," Steve sighed. "I doubt he likes men and women the way that I do or the way that I like him. I'll get up. They're probably going to want breakfast."

"Steve, he was clearly flirting with you! No one calls people "big boy" like that and means it platonically!" Robin exclaimed.

Eddie held in a breath until Robin and Steve left the room. He let it out with a loud gasp.

"Holy shit!" Eddie exclaimed. "I was flirting with Steve?!"

Eddie's eyes widened as he thought about all of his interactions with men. Yes, now that he's thinking about it, there was a definite attraction to certain jocks. Sure, he actually hated some of them, but Steve, he was pretty sure he hated for no reason back then. He did nothing to him or his friends, and he had always kept Hagan, as well as the other basketball players, on a tight lease. Well, he really tried to. Whenever he watched Steve play while in the gym, he always got irrationally angry at the sight of him. Maybe it wasn't hate. . .no, it definitely wasn't hate because he always wanted to bite him. It was so often that Eddie had, honest to God, thought that he was turning into a cannibal.

"Oh, fuck! Fuckity, fuck, fuck, shit! Goddamnit!" Eddie exclaimed.

As the days passed by, Eddie really tried to push his feelings for Steve aside. He wanted Steve to remain in his life and the one really romantic relationship he had he totally fucked up. No, he wasn't good at that shit and it would only ruin what he had with Steve now. It didn't help that Steve was basically taking care of him. Luckily, he was able to move around, and with the help of Robin, he was able to move downstairs. Unfortunately, she decided that she needed to talk her best friend up.

"I already know how great Steve is, Robin," Eddie mumbled. "I married him, didn't I?"

"No, you got married by a couple of interdimensional bats," Robin said. "You did not make the conscious decision at the time to marry my best friend."

"Why are you trying to sell me on Steve? I don't like him like that. I don't like men either," Eddie said as he lied out of his ass.

"You don't?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "And I wasn't necessarily trying to convince you to do anything. I was just talking about how great Steve is."

"Well, if you think he's so great, why don't you date him?" Eddie asked.

"Well, I would, but he's got the hots for someone else. We're also strictly platonic. Let's see what else? . . . Oh! There's also the fact that I'm a lesbian," Robin said.

"Shit, seriously?" Eddie asked and stared at her for a while, not saying anything. "Goddamnit! Okay! Okay! I'm also. . .not exactly straight. I like men, I like women, and I am head over heels for Steve Harrington. Happy?"

"Well, yes and no. You know, I wasn't trying to pressure you into outing yourself, right?" Robin asked.

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled. "I was pressuring myself."

"Thank you for telling me," Robin said.

"Thank you for telling me," Eddie grinned.

"Are you going to tell Steve?" Robin asked.

"Nope. Never," Eddie said.

"Why?" Robin asked.

"I tend to mess up in that area, so why risk what I have with Steve now?" Eddie asked.

"Because these scars you carry are proof that every day could be your last, and I don't think telling Steve is going to scare him off," Robin said softly. "He might surprise you."

"I know he likes me, which I don't understand why," Eddie said. "My husband can do so much better."

"How do you know?" Robin asked.

"You guys weren't exactly quiet the other day. It made me realize that I like both, that I've been flirting with Steve," Eddie said.

"So, you're running away, being a chicken shit, because you've already decided that you're going to hurt him?" She asked with narrowed eyes.

"I would never purposely hurt him," Eddie said.

"Well, leading him on and thinking it's going to go somewhere is hurting him. So, whether you decide to go forward with your relationship or not, you're going to have to talk to him because you're going to hurt him either way. But you want to know what a good way of not hurting him is? . . . DECIDING TO FUCKING BE WITH HIM, YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT!" Robin shrieked. "Get your head out your ass. You both deserve to be with each other. We're all scared of telling people how we feel, but you know what I did after we averted the apocalypse?. . .I mean, eventually, I told Vickie how I felt. So, buck up. You're hurting yourself unnecessarily and Steve, especially since you're the one who knows that you like him and he likes you. Meanwhile, he's left in the dark about how you feel. I will not see Steve hurt. Got it?!"

Robin hit him over the head with a couch pillow. Eddie shrieked.

"Alright! Alright, I'll talk to him! Can I heal first?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, that's fine, take your time," Robin said calmly, lowering the pillow. "So, do you want to be with him?"

"Of course I want to be with him. . .I'm just scared," Eddie said. "All of this is new."

"Well, I did say you could take your time," Robin said. "And if you tell Steve how scared you are of messing this up, he'll understand completely, and I'm sure you can both work through it together. . . You know, if you decide to be with him"

"This is fucking crazy. . .Steve Harrington likes me. I can't believe it. Nope! No way," Eddie said shaking his head.

"Yeah, I can't believe it either," Robin laughed.

"Fuck off," Eddie rolled his eyes.

Steve strolled through the door with a sigh as he walked into the living.

"Okay, the kids are all at home. Now we can have some time to ourselves. Well, us and Robin," Steve grinned.

He sat down on Eddie's other and kissed Eddie's temple as he wrapped his arm around him. It had quickly become a thing with them. . .to always be touching. Apparently, they were kissing each other on the head now.

"Hi, honey, did the kids give you a hard time?" Eddie asked as he squeezed his knee.

He could feel his eyes lighting up at Steve as he launched into details about the car ride. God, this was so fucking domestic and he loved it. More days passed, and he was able to move around on his own, but he was still in a lot of pain. Apparently, Steve was, too, but he had neglected to say anything until Eddie was cuddling up to him in bed and his arm wrapped around his stomach. Steve involuntarily winced. Yeah, the bat bites were no joke. Neither was their venom, which, according to the doctors were never going to go away. Luckily, Argyle and Jonathan offered a solution, but they arrived just as Steve was driving Robin to Vickie's.

"Uh, are we waiting for Steve?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah, turns out he's in pain too," Eddie said as Argyle guided him to the couch. "He's just hasn't said anything. He prefers to suffer in silence, I guess."

"Bat bites are a bitch, huh?" Argyle asked.

"Yeah, the only good thing that's come from it is the permanent marriage between me and Steve," Eddie said with a grin.

"What?" Jonathan asked.

"It's a running joke," Eddie shrugged.

"With the whole kids thing, yeah, that makes sense," Argyle said.

"So, is Steve a good husband?" Jonathan smirked.

"Hell yeah!" Eddie exclaimed, slapping his knee. "Couldn't ask for a better baby daddy."

"Seriously?" Jonathan scoffed.

"You've got something against my husband, Byers?" Eddie smirked.

"It's just hard to imagine Steve being mature enough to handle being married," Jonathan said. "Let alone to a guy."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, the smirk dropping from his lips.

"Just that he's a notorious ladies man, Eddie. I wouldn't get your hopes, man. He's not exactly comfortable with. . .," Jonathan said, trailing off.

"With people like me," Eddie said, looking at him with hard eyes. "Did you just make an assumption about my sexuality, Byers?"

"Oh, man," Argyle said nervously. "I think Jonathan was trying to look out for you, man."

"I'm not his little brother, I'm a grown man," Eddie sighed.

"That's a fair point," Argyle said.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to do that, but I just trying to warn you about what kind of guy Steve is," Jonathan said. "I shouldn't have made an assumption about you."

"What kind of guy do you think that Steve is? Are you calling him homophobic in his own home?" Eddie asked.

"I think he's upset you're insulting his husband, Jonathan," Argyle said.

"I just want to know why you think that about Steve," Eddie said. "That's all."

Eddie was really trying not to show Jonathan how angry he is but the guy was making it difficult.

"He called me queer once," Jonathan said.

"That's it? He called you queer and that automatically makes him homophobic? I've used that word, and I'm about as straight as a cooked noodle," Eddie said defensively. "So, when, pray tell, did he call you this?"

"It was a few years ago," he muttered.

Eddie could tell that Jonathan was starting to realize how ridiculous it was.

"Look, man, I get where you're coming from, I do because I was pretty sure I hated Steve for a long time, and because of that, I held onto my prejudiced views about jocks for a long time. My reasoning behind that is clearly not the same as yours. . .at least, I hope not. After everything that Steve has done, how can you still think anything negative about the man?" Eddie asked.

"You can do great things and still have hateful thoughts," Jonathan said.

"He's not homophobic, you fucking idiot! You would know that if you had bothered to try and get to know him in the last few years," Eddie rolled his eyes. "He shouldn't have to keep apologizing for shit he's already apologized for."

"How do you know that?" Jonathan asked. "You haven't known him that long."

"It's all about quality, not about quantity, and I clearly know him better than you do, Byers," Eddie spat. "Your own brother feels safe around him. The kids look up to him. Nancy trusts him. Your mother and Hopper love him. Jesus, what is this really about?"

"Will won't shut up about him!" Jonathan snapped. "Every time they hang out or Steve drops him off, Will comes home gushing about him and I'm just worried. . ."

"What? That he's going to think that Steve’s the better older brother?" Eddie asked, and then he laughed. "That's stupid. That's even stupider than you holding onto a dumb grudge. You know what Will does when he's over here with his friends and Steve. . . He talks about you. It's non-stop, actually. The kid loves you, and no one is ever going to replace you. So, get that out of your thick skull. Trust me when I say this: Steve Harrington is not homophobic."

"Yeah, okay," Jonathan said softly.

"You need to talk to Steve about this and Will," Eddie said. "And Byers?"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever insult my husband again, I'll punch your lights out," Eddie said.

"Noted. I'm sorry. . . Are you in love with him?" He asked curiously.

"Head over heels, man," Eddie said.

"So, are we good?" Argyle asked.

"Yeah, we're good," Eddie said in amusement as he shook Jonathan's hand.

"Oh, thank God, I thought that was going to get really awkward there for a minute," Argyle said, and they laughed.

Later that night, Eddie was lying in bed with Steve, cradling him from behind. His hand was up Steve’s shirt, carassing his stomach right above his bat bites. He didn't want to let this go, but he was also ready to risk it all for Steve Harrington.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm in love with you," Eddie said softly.

Steve turned around in his arms so he was looking at him. His hazel eyes were big and round, looking at him hopefully. The light from the lamp beside his side of the bed was revealing all of the colors in Steve's eyes. The green and the brown intermingled beautifully, but the light also made his eyes look a little bit golden. Eddie sighed. God, he was beautiful.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I'm in love with you too," Steve whispered.

"I know."

"Did you just fucking Han Solo - mmpf!"

Eddie crashed his lips to Steve’s, kissing him harshly. Steve smiled into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Eddie gently as he threw his leg over Eddie's. Steve’s eagerly kissed him back, his fingers cupping the back of Eddie's head, tugging on his hair. Eddie moaned into his mouth. Steve gasped for breath as he broke the kiss.

"Is this really happening?" Steve asked.

"Til death do us part, asshole."

[boredzillenial]

F.A.F.O.

You find out the hard way that you are not safe hiding behind a screen, not from these three.

Themes: Afab!reader, teasing/sexting shenanigans, oh no if it isn’t the consiquences of my own actions

A.N.: this is just somethin’ short and sweet in a new style for me. Hope y’all enjoy!

Hiya! It’s Steven. 🥰 Hope the bus ride from our flat to your work wasn’t too bad. How was your day?

Hi sweetheart, today was really challenging. I couldn’t focus for the life of me…

Aww why not 🥺

Was too distracted thinking about you…

Me? I’m sorry love ❤️ did I do something wrong?

It’s more like you did something a little too right last night 😘

Oh… Yeah? ☺️ Was nervous to try that but you were amazing.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day today, even now… 💦

You’re… right now? 😳

You’ve got me so wet. I don’t know if I can wait till this weekend to see you… I think I may have to take care of this myself when I get home 😉

What?! Wait I’m off today I can help! Can i come over? 🥺

No Steven, I don’t think I’ll be able to focus the rest of the week if I see you again tonight. Just need to knock this out.

Knock it out? Love I can make you feel so good please 😣

Do you remember where you put my vibrator? I haven’t seen it since the last time you three were over here.

Darling please let me come over. I promise we can be quick 😩

No no no, naughty boy. You’d beg me to stay, and I just can’t tell any of you no when you’re here.

Please I need to see you 😣 I need to… I need to feel you.

You gotta wait till tomorrow. Here this will tide you over. 😉

Image sent.

Oh love….

Please let me come over 😭

Is that not enough? I think this one should be better 😘

Image sent.

Love I can’t

Can’t what baby 😉

You think you’re funny?

I don’t know what you’re talking about Steven 😘

Try again

..

Marc?

..

Strike 2

Jake…

Bingo 😈

Jake - Steven and I were just joking around!

Image received

Does this look like a joke? 🍆

Jesus Christ… Are you gonna handle that for Steven?

No, you are.

Jake you’re all the way across town. I’ve got work in the morning.

You have 30 minutes to call out of work for tomorrow and be ready for us.

Us?

You’ve gotta deal with me.

Marc says he wants a word with you too. 😉

Then you can make it up to Steven.

Jake do NOT come over here!

..

Jake seriously I can’t have you over right now I’ve gotta work tomorrow!

And I’m serious. You’ve got a few minutes you better call your boss now amor.

Jake! I’m doing laundry and catching up on chores tonight you gotta stay home.

..

Jake I’m serious!

Call denied

Just talk to me Jake, don’t come over

..

Unlock the door for me sweetheart, I’m here

Oh you must think I’m crazy

Image received

IS THAT MY VIBRATOR?! 😠

Open the door and find out 😘

———————

MoonKnight Bingo Masterlist

Taglist: @moonknight-events @melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose @romana-after-dark

[januaryembrs]

WORTH THE WAIT | Poe Dameron x Reader

Request: my sweet @happyhauntt says: and to counteract the fact that my last request was sad as fuck, here's a happy one!!! a wee fic based on the song 'i guess i'm in love' by clinton kane, and this one feels like it should be for poe or steven!! enjoy!!

Description: Poe tries to help reader overcome her fear of flying by giving her something good to remember

length: 2.1k

warnings: mention of puke (none just feeling of nausea) mention of fear of heights?

authors note: yes I did listen to Romantic Flight from HTTYD when I wrote this and yes this did heal the part of me that always wanted to be flown through the clouds like this. also sorry this is so late things have been HECTIC

Poe really hoped she liked his surprise. 

There were very few things that he knew he was good at besides flying; knowing exactly how to tell her just how deeply he felt for her even after all this time being one of them. He knew he stumbled over flirtatious lines, not at all like the bachelor he once was, that his chest still pounded at the thought of her just the same as it did when he was soaring through the stratosphere, his stomach flipping when they kissed as if he’d done four barrel rolls on an X-Wing. 

He knew he was in uncharted waters being so far in a committed relationship, that his usual rendezvous' had lasted little more than a few weeks at most, but that was entirely in the past. No one had even come close since the day he met her. 

She had been his mission once. Captured on a First Order ship, Leia had ordered him and his squadron to go rescue her, had said she was some lord’s daughter of a dying planet wanted by Ren for information about her father. He had heard the stories of how his resistance leader had come to be kidnapped from Alderaan when she was young, and figuring she was just screamingly empathetic for the girl, he had done exactly as he had been told. 

He’d had no clue that his mission would become his entire life within a few short months. 

“I feel like this is a little unfair,” She teased, his hands over her eyes as he led her out to the hangar, the lone sun on their planet lowering behind the horizon, “You make me wait all day for my present, and I can’t even see it,” 

“Have a little patience, Princess,” Poe said, his lips drawing into a small smile as he felt her huff beneath his palms, “I know you’re used to getting what you want in your palace, but you’re in my town now, baby,”

She chuckled, shaking her head as he directed her down the stairs. He wasn’t entirely lying. After she’d been rescued from Ren’s grasp, her planet had quickly declared its allegiance to the resistance and she had been appointed as one of Leia’s advisors. Whether it was her quick wit, or the love she seemed to drench every single person with, no matter who they were or where they had come from, Poe wasn’t exactly sure what it was that made her such a good leader, other than the fact she was so entirely herself it was hard not to favour her; a rare quality of politicians he'd often teased her. 

She gave a sniff through her nose, trying to give herself some kind of hint as to what her gift was. “Smells like… oil? Did BB-8 leak again?” 

“Just wait, one more step in front of you,” Poe replied, his eyes trained carefully on her high heeled steps over the concrete. His stomach somersaulted as he wondered for the last time if this was a good idea, but he couldn't very well lead her all the way back out of there empty handed. Reminding himself it was her, and she would never spit anything kind back in his face, he released her face gently, “tada!”

He watched her shoulders tense under the jacket he’d given her because he worried she’d be cold in the night air, and he could tell her mind was racing a million miles a second trying to make sense of what it was he was showing her. 

His T-70 starfighter. The only thing, he often joked, that could ever rival her for the title of his beloved.

“Poe…” Her voice trailed off, unsure but not wanting to seem rude, “Poe, I can’t-”

“Baby, hear me out,” He cut in, knowing she was never going to be jumping for joy before he could explain, “I promise you, nothing bad will happen while I’m there,”

“Poe,” She said hesitantly, as he came around the front of her to see her worried expression that made him cradle her face with his warm hands almost immediately.

“They don’t call me the best pilot in the galaxy for nothing,” He smiled at her cheekily, and he was relieved to see her crack a grin then, though the fright lingered in her eyes that rolled at him.

He’d known since the day he’d rescued her that she had a fear of flying; when he’d had to sit her on his lap in that very same cockpit so they could escape the base together, when she’d screamed bloody murder and held his hands so tight he worried he might lose circulation. 

Not the best of first introductions, and not quite how he’d imagined his two greatest loves meeting. Which was why he wanted to change her experience of the whole thing. 

She gave him a tentative glance, and he fretted for a moment that it had all been a mistake; that his kind act coming from a good place had been one giant heap of selfish bantha fodder that he felt stupid for even suggesting it. But then she took a deep breath, her hands coming up over his own on her cheeks and squeezing them gently. 

“Certainly don’t call you the most humble pilot in the galaxy, Dameron,” She said with a tease, moving past him to head for the jet, “Alright, help me up. My carriage awaits,”

He beamed so hard he thought his cheeks might explode, rushing past her to lift himself up onto the right arm the way he had done so many, many times before. 

“My lady,” He stretched out his hand, all but yanking her up most of the way to where he kneeled, and he was glad he’d told her to wear her cargos and not the pretty dress she’d showed him.

Pulling herself up to a sit, she looked unsurely at the metalwork beneath them, “You’re sure it can hold two?”

“It did before, didn't it?” He countered back, hoisting himself into the cockpit that felt like a second home to him, his body sliding into his seat like a hand into a glove. He parted his thighs, granting her a space of her own, and patted the leather chair, “Actually, don't think about that. Hop in,”

She paused, uncertainty written across her face that cracked when she saw the hopeful gleam in his eyes, brown hues that had always seemed to watch her with pure adoration. She had always struggled to say no to him, especially when he looked like that. 

Slipping between his legs, she hated to admit that she found herself rather comfy enveloped between his body and the dash. 

“You sure we’re safe?” She asked once more, and his arms slid around her to grab the wheel in his right hand, the left pulling her back against his warm body that made her relax just that little bit. He kissed the side of her head, resting his temple against hers for a second. 

“You know I would never put you in harms way, sweetheart,” He said, all trace of jovial teasing gone as he kissed next to her ear and pushed the button to lock the glass canopy over their heads. It slowly lowered down, hissing into a click as it shut, and he felt her shuffle in closer to his chest, “There’s something up there I really, really want to show you. Okay?” 

She looked up at him over her shoulder, his eyes twinkling with excitement at seeing her in his seat, his co-pilot for the evening. 

How could she ever resist?

“Okay,” She nodded, tugging his arms over her shoulders like a seat belt as if strapping herself in for the ride, “Okay, I’m ready,”  

He chuckled, praying to the maker one last time that this would work, and switching the ignition up to a low rumble. 

The jet rolled forward slowly, and he wheeled it around to a clearing in runway that made her think he’d told everyone to take the evening off just so they could have their solo flight.

“Okay, baby, I’m going to have to go fast at this bit, so you might want to hold on tight,” He warned her, and he felt her grab onto his thighs with tight fists, “That’s it, I got you, you’re safe,”

Not giving her much time to overthink what was coming, he floored the gas, flicking a few of the levers above their heads. She sucked in a breath, her knuckles almost turning white with grip, “Poe,” 

“I promise you’re safe, baby,” He reassured, forcing the throttle down and they jumped forward as the engines kicked in. He would have been in the air by now if it had just been him, would probably already be doing a loop-de-loop, but he didn’t want to terrify her before they had even really started. 

She squealed, a muffled version of what he knew she was probably holding back as they started lifting off the ground, and he sped up even more, the g-force throwing her back against him, and he flicked pressed the switch on the dash to start retracting the wheels into the underbelly. 

“Poe, I’m scared,”

“You got it, I got you,” He removed one of his hands off the wheel and looped it around her waist to keep her secure, “You’re doing so well, baby,” 

It was then she made the mistake of taking a peak outside, seeing their base quickly becoming little more than a speck beneath them as they sped off upwards into the atmosphere, “Oh my stars, we’re so high,” 

He chuckled, kissing her hairline tenderly, “That’s a good thing, means we’re not in danger of crashing into trees or mountains or-”

“Poe!” She slapped his thigh, scrunching her eyes shut, “I can’t look, I’m going to puke,”

His resolve wavered for a minute, and he made the impromptu decision to yank the steering wheel down, forcing them to take a quick turn up even higher into the air, to which she tucked her head towards his jaw so she didn’t have to watch. 

He wondered if he was going to regret such a bold move, he felt her whimper against his skin and Poe cursed the whole concept of ‘Go big or go home’ that he had been going for. 

Until-

They burst through the clouds, the dusk air that had been growing dark under the smog disappearing as they cut in a straight line up, further and further until the cottony slew of powder white clouds blanketed beneath them, the way they had for him so many times before. The sun was still out this far up in the aerospace, syrupy orange, and almost pink as it met the pillowed floor, like they had flown right into a meadow of blankets and warmth. 

“Poe, I tried to be brave, really I did, for you, but my nerves are shot-” 

“Baby, look,” He cut her off, engaging the auto-pilot and moving his warm hands down her arms softly to hold her fingers in his own. The X-Wing evened out, the force barely feeling like a pull at their bodies anymore and more like a lingering jitter in their skin that could so easily be passed off as the engine. 

“I can’t, I feel sick-” She protested, pushing her nose into his neck, and he felt her hands shaking with nerves that he gently stroked away. He chuckled, the sound reverberating over the apples of her cheeks.

“Just trust me, look,” Poe said, and she took a deep breath, as if holding back another complaint, peeling herself away from him just the smallest amount to glimpse outside the star-fighter. 

Her eyes widened, sitting upright almost immediately as she saw the technicolor that had been a dull beige before, the world she’d known for over two years entirely gone, buried beneath the silkened clouds. Her mouth hung open, eyes darting over the teracotta hues, down to the valley of puffy clouds beneath that didn’t seem nearly as threatening as she’d imagined. 

She was silent for a moment, and Poe had feeling that was atleast a good thing, but he was known to second guess himself when it came down to her. 

Watching her expression with a besotted gaze, the sun’s heat glowing her cheeks with a honey kiss, he ran his fingertips over her palms, “Do you like it?”

“Poe, it’s-” She swallowed, not once ripping her eyes away from the oil painting infront of her, “You get to see this every day?”

He laughed, dipping his nose in her neck and leaving a loving kiss there, “Pretty much, yeah. I told you, it’s a whole other world up here,”

“How do you ever come down, I mean it’s, it’s,” She stammered, shuffling on the edge of the seat to take it all in even more, “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” 

“I have my reasons that are pretty compelling actually,” He smiled, eyes washing over her face, trying to commit that expression to memory because there were very few times they were allowed to have something good in the middle of a war. But this was it. She was it. His little bit of goodness that had been so worth the wait, “Happy Anniversary, honey,”