#thank u so much for the new follows holy shit !?!?!?!?!?!?

[pisspope]

all right all right lemme make lil banner or something and make it official but u gremlins will get ur damn event

[luveline]

I love love LOVE the writing you've done for Spencer Reid!!! I'm practically living off of it at this point. I was thinking since we All love Spencer wearing glasses, what if the roles were reversed and HE was the one getting flustered after seeing reader in glasses for the first time?

thank u!!

“Where is she?” 

Spencer doesn’t have to look to guess what ‘she’ Morgan is wondering after. “She texted. She woke up late.” 

“Late? Is that BAU approved?” Morgan asks.

“I think her phone is broken.” 

Emily shakes a hair tie down her hand. Morgan holds her compact mirror open for her. “She’s not the only one running late. I swear the night gets shorter every time I fall sleep.” She wrinkles her nose, collecting her hair into one hand behind her head, wrapping her tie around in an impressive, painful looking ponytail. Morgan passes her a comb. She neatens up her bangs. 

Spencer’s head finally lifts at the sound of your hasty entrance and following apologies, “I’m sorry, shit, oh, sorry. I’m really sorry, Anderson, I’ll make it up to you,” you say, hidden behind Anderson’s tall stature.

“That’s okay, L/N. Hey, what’s with the glasses?” 

Spencer squints, willing Anderson to move out of the way. “It’s a long story,” you say, shuffling past Anderson to hurry to the front of the bullpen. Spencer locks onto your face,. His hands fall into his lap. 

You’re wearing clear-rimmed glasses with metal legs that slip down your nose the closer you get, your makeup lighter than usual, and your clothes a repeat of what you wore yesterday, though he’s probably the only person who’d notice. He barely gives your rumpled blouse a second glance, too distracted by your hand, your fingers as you push the glasses up the bridge of your nose. “Is Hotch in yet?” you ask hopefully. 

“He’s been here since five,” Morgan tells you, double-taking when he spots your new accessory. “Oh my god, you’re adorable.” 

You raise a hand between you both to hide your face from his view. 

Spencer gets out of his chair. “I was really hoping he’d be late too,” you say, turning to Spencer with a gentle pout. “It’s like wishing to win the lottery, I guess.” 

Holy shit. He’s breaking a sweat. There’s heat gathering at the base of his neck, worse when you push the glasses up again, your eyes shiny and wide-pupiled behind them. “You’re wearing glasses,” Spencer says.

“Oh, I know, I kept that secret, huh? My left contact got all dried up and I figured I didn’t have time to mess around, so you’re forced to suffer me like this.” You put your hand bashfully under your chin, a cherub posing. “I look like an old lady.” 

“No you don’t.” 

“I do, I look aged.” You put your bag on the floor by his chair and brush your hands down your clothes. “Spencer, it’s hopeless. I look like I slept in it. Maybe my glasses are atrocious enough to distract everyone.” 

“They’re not atrocious, you look beautiful.”

He immediately breaks eye contact to stare at your shoulder. Why did I say that? he thinks. Why do I talk so much? Heat fills his cheeks in a matter of seconds, but he holds his breath rather than let it out, totally frozen. 

Emily’s laughing as you step forward, hand out to touch his arm. You tilt your head to one side and Jesus, he wasn’t lying, you make his heart stop just looking at you. “You think so?” you ask softly. 

You aren’t laughing. Spencer nods, a tight up and down. 

Your lips press together in a shy smile. 

“They’re both as bad as each other!” Emily whisper-shouts. 

“What’s the matter, Reid, cat got your tongue?” Morgan asks. 

You push your glasses up your nose again, still smiling to yourself, so Spencer doesn’t mind his humiliation. You don’t call yourself atrocious again. If anything, you glow.

[suiana]

The death of an artist

he's always found you beautiful, even in your death and rebirth. you'll always be perfect to him. always

(yandere! musician x gn! reader) (cw: yandere stuff idk, im wiritng this while shitting i hope u enjoy my poopoo core, 2.04k words)

you might not have realised it but your silent admirer had always watched you.

he's watched you from the shadows, observing how you interact with others, how your eyes were once full of light and joy as you shared your paintings for the world to see.

it was beautiful.

you were beautiful.

he was but an aspiring musician back then. a couple of listeners here and there but never enough to fill up a concert hall. meanwhile you were a famous artist, with your paintings selling out for millions at all the art exhibitions you hosted.

you little admirer totally idolized you.

i mean, who wouldn't? all your paintings were so full of life, oh so meaningful, and most importantly, they were made with love.

love, love, love.

it was the one thing that made you stand out from all the hundreds and thousands of artists. the one thing that inspired him to even start writing songs.

your art made him feel loved. it made him feel wanted, even. he remembers how he'd get a fuzzy feeling from all your paintings, how it sent a delightful tingle up his spine as he takes in your carefully crafted masterpieces.

though there weren't any texts, all of your paintings spoke a thousand words. and they spoke to him.

with every new piece you put out, it was like he was getting to know you better. to know you on a personal level. it made his head spin and his heart leap in delight. after all, you were his idol. the one he admired so much that he began to pursue a music career dedicated to you. the career he once left behind in favour of living in this sad world.

though at one point in time, he hit a wall.

he couldn't get any ideas, no fresh inspiration for his music. the musician could only stare at his score as his mind desperately grasps at nothing. he felt like he was dying.

then you came through, like an angel of salvation.

well, looking back, you were more like a demon of salvation. especially because that one single text from you kick-started his disgusting love for you. it feels wrong to call you a demon though, not when you were so holy that he feels like touching you will corrupt your divine light.

he still remembers waking up and seeing your text on his instagram DMs. your bright red notification ping that gave him all the motivation he needed to think of a new idea.

'hey! just wanted to tell u i really enjoy ur music! cant wait to see u get famous >w<'

he swears he could die happy just seeing you message him. you messaged him. you know of his existence??? no fucking way bro. he still wonders if he used up all his luck when you messaged him so innocently that day.

of course... he responded and thus began a friendship (?) between the two of you.

friendship. yeah, maybe for you.

truth be told, he doesn't know if he ever saw you as a friend to begin with. he always thought you messaged him because you were interested in him too. whatever, these small details aren't important.

he released a love song not long after your first interaction with him. it instantly became a viral hit, taking his follower count from the thousands to the millions. he was glad it performed so well on the charts, they were his feelings to you after all.

the now famous musician had to thank you for getting him out of his rut. without you, he'd probably have gone back to doing medicine. so he did the best thing and that was to invite you out for a meal. he had to thank his muse, didn't he?

you were a little hesitant at first. that's okay, if anything he thought it was cute that you were suspicious of him. there will be plenty of time for you to warm up to him later.

the little get-together, or first date as he likes to call it, went well! you two saw each other in real life for the first time! and boy was he smitten. if he was unsure about whether he was in love with you before, he sure as hell was sure now.

you were so much more lovely in real life than you were over text. all smiles and laughs, your admirer feels that his songs didn't do you justice.

"this was fun! let's do this again!"

oh for sure he will do it again. he just wants you all to himself now. to keep you with him, a never-ending source of inspiration for the rest of his life. his beloved muse. the one he writes for. the one his songs are dedicated to. his.

so your falling off played out nicely in his favour. you were trying out an experimental style, said that he inspired you. it was one that not many would be able to understand at first glance, completely different from what your previous one was. your loyal fans stood by your side of course, him included. but the general public eventually started ignoring your newer pieces in favour for something they didn't need to use much thought to understand. for someone fresh, someone new.

he could see the way the light in your eyes slowly started to dim at the lack of interaction. sure, you said that fame wasn't important to you, that all you wanted was to showcase your art to the world.

but your little admirer could tell that it was bothering you more than you'd like to admit.

he saw the way your texts with him grew more erratic, the way the vibrant life in your eyes started to slowly dim, the way you started pushing out more works to compensate for the style change. you were desperate for the attention you once received. the way you changed in real time, becoming a slave to the consumers, like an animated robot that pushed out art just for the sake of it...

it was a little sad to see to be honest. it was like you were there, but you also weren't, you know? your name was on the artwork but he didn't see you in it.

but he was glad things turned out the way it did. it meant that he could be there for you when you cried and felt like a mistake. it meant that he could offer you a shoulder to cry on when the times were really bad.

"there there, it's alright. just let it all out."

his gentle caresses as you cried your heart out into his chest... it was delightful to see you depend on him so much. that you'd come seeking comfort from him in such a dark period of your life. he felt so wanted by you.

meanwhile, his fame was only growing larger by the day. while you were on a path to being forgotten, he was making a name for himself in the music industry. brand deals, billboards, advertisements. he was everywhere, like a ghost haunting you, to remind you that your friend was thriving while you weren't.

the musician wonders whether you've ever hated him. that you'd think he was stealing all of your fame. after all, your fame went down not long after you messaged him. he really wonders whether you've ever blamed him for making a change in your art style.

it doesn't matter now.

the artist in you was gone.

"hey, what if you make me an album cover?"

you only stared at him with dark eyes before looking away. everyone around you had slowly started distancing themselves from you. the change in your personality and looks had scared them. everyone but him had stayed. his words about horrid snakes deceiving you fill your head as you cling to the attention he gave you. who were you to deny your only friend left?

"sure."

you didn't give much thought when designing his new album. it was an avant garde album that had themes about desperation, love, and death.

how ironic, you thought.

you gave the complete piece to him a few days after, heavy bags under your eyes as your friend hugged and kissed your cheek. he's been taking care of you recently. having you move in with him, cooking you food and covering all of your expenses. he treated you like a lover. albeit you found it a bit weird that he told you not to leave without his consent. said that he didn't want people to harass you. you found it sweet of him. you were glad that he cared for you so much.

"my dear artist friend designed my new album cover, yes. i think they were a perfect fit to help design this particular album cover. they're..."

your fame immediately came back. interviews, likes, commissions, the things you were once familiar with came running back at full force after your friend's interview with a big channel.

you think if this happened earlier you'd have caved under the attention. the big spotlight, fans.... the attention will always be intoxicating. even now, you feel yourself smiling at the number of notifications you're receiving from strangers.

but you've realized that their attention is only temporary. the second you grow irrelevant they'll drop you again. just like they did before.

the only one who matters is your friend. the one who whispered sweet nothings and reassured you when you were drowning in a mass of nothingness. the one who gave you the attention you craved.

you immediately started a new piece in a new style.

'Intertwined'

a painting that gave you more fame than what you initially had before. it was a piece about self enlightenment, discovery, and contentment. and some claimed that it was the best painting that you've ever made. a masterpiece.

you showed your friend your work right after you were done and you could've sworn you saw a hint of shock in his eyes. maybe also fear? you don't know.

"this is... beautiful."

his words were slow, gaze intense as he stared at your painting for what felt like hours. you think he was mesmerized. you never asked him.

you made another painting after that.

'final duet'

again, people claimed that it was a masterpiece. your friend looked stunned again and he called it beautiful like always. he told you that he's never seen something so artistically perfect before and that he's proud of you. you like it. his compliments make you happy.

"this one is for you."

you made another piece. a simple painting of him in your style.

'untitled.jpg'

"is... it mine now?"

he proceeded to draw you into the painting as well after your words. you didn't understand what he was doing. but you found it cute. he was drawing you?

"there. now it's perfect."

he smiles down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead like he always does. you've grown so used to his kisses that you were expecting one already. you lean into his touch before smiling softly.

"i'm so happy with you."

"me too."

the seed of life was sprouting once more, growing around the stem that it's learnt to grow dependent on.

he was everything to you. you feel like you'd die without him. but you know it'll never happen because your dearest friend will always remain by your side. he promised you. his words are like gold. he's the only one who matters.

you never want to be apart ever again.

thus you made your final masterpiece about love and dedication. a flower thriving in a dark environment and growing to love the dark, having died in the shining light once before.

'rebirth'

the blinds to the outside world shut on the two of you. no one else is important. he tells you he loves you. you repeat it. his hands wrap around you as you lean into his cold touch. you're cold too. you used to be warm once, he says he likes you cold better. shutting your eyes, all you focus on is the steady beating of his heart.

now no one will ever bother the two lovers ever again.

[papaya-twinks]

ok so what abt a lando one where there’s an age gap and he’s always been obsessed with her and like stalkers her, does research on the guys she brings home and goes out with basically totally dark stalker vibes. But the thing is she knows she has a stalker but no idea who it is bc whenever he confronts her he is wearing his racing helmet, and they always do even more each time they meet, liek first time they met he just caressed her but then like the 3rd time fingers her and 4th fucks her. THEN SOMEWEAR IN IT PLSSS. Lando has a sex tape of them and jerks off to it and thinks ‘fuck I can’t do this anymore’ kidnaps her and now she’s kinda like his toy but sugar daddy vibes bc he treats her well. And this is all consensual bc the reader wants an adventure as her ex bf was so vanilla ( which lando knows allll abt and explains in detail to her what she used to do with him) THATS ALOT IM SRRY U DONT HAVE TO DO IT

Warnings: Five year age gap (sorry, large age gaps make me squeamish), stalker, dark fic, 18+ kidnapping, sex, smut, 18+, consensual, sex tape, fingering, abusive partner (not Lando), sugar daddy, swearing

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - I’m adding some biker!lando into this coz his F1 helmet is just cutsies but a black biker one? dark dark shit right there.

Lando had met you at an F1 race, where you’d been in the garage. Something about how darn innocent you looked with your pretty little dress, all young and…wow. And with the help of Oscar (who simply thought his teammate just had an interest in some girl), he found out about you.

Y/N Y/L/N. You were 19 years old, your favourite colour was pink, you were cute and innocent and sweet, and you loved bows and ribbons. How adorable. And so it began, Lando followed you on a burner account, and watched all your stories, pinpointing your exact location to be in Monaco.

Oh how perfect, you were in the same country as him and, conveniently, he had the whole summer break to play around with the information.

y/n

caption: spending this day alone but with a great cafe to make up for it :)

friend3: oooo, have fun 💗💗💗

-> y/n: will do, thank you x

friend2: looking chic, y/n!

friend1: enjoy yourself and try the chocolate cake 👀

user1: café can’t be as gorgeous as you are 😉

-> y/n: oh, thank you?

You had just brushed off whoever ‘user1’ was, not really paying much mind to unusual flirty message, and continued with your day at the cafe. However, you couldn’t shake the slightly unsettling feeling that you were being watched.

You’d seen this happen in movies, and you couldn’t deny that the slight tingle of adrenaline coursing through your body wasn’t enjoyable. And so you looked behind you, from your cake and your phone, your eyes locking with someone else’s.

Well, more you found yourself staring back at a helmet. A plain, slick black helmet, the person wearing it adorned in a leather black jacket and light blue jeans. You couldn’t see any features to help show you who it was, but it was kind of…interesting.

Did you confront the person? No, you’d seem desperate or stupid. So you went back to your food, and never once did it cross your mind that perhaps, user1 was your stalker. But you didn’t see the stalker anymore. And you were a little disappointed they’d moved on so quickly, but you too moved on, going on your dates, looking for love, as girls your age did.

“Jason? What the fuck?” Lando said, eyeing the new name at the bottom of your followers. He’d skimmed through them, making a note of each and every person on your Instagram list, but seeing a guy? He couldn’t deny the feeling of annoyance in his stomach.

And thankfully, he’d made note of the guy’s instagram enough to see where the date would take place. Foolish, foolish move. And once again, you were sitting at a chair opposite this man, Jason, when your eyes fell on the same, sleek black helmet once more. Holy shit. And quicker than it had come, it was gone. For fucks’ sake.

*1 month later*

You and Jason were dating now, and to say he was toxic was an understatement. “Jason, I’m just gonna go out with my friends,” you said, picking up your purse as he scowled from the sofa, still in his sleeping clothes. “Why? So you can see some guy under the guise of friends? Likely,” Jason scoffed.

He was frustrating. “I’m not seeing another guy, I’m going with my friends,” you said, repeating your words as he groaned. “For fucks’ sake, Y/N, no means no!” he yelled, his words making you flinch as you sighed and dropped your purse back down.

“Fine, if you’re gonna be a brat, fucking go!” Jason seethed, pushing you to the door. Well, at least you’d get to go. The meet up with your friends ended a few minutes later, and just as you were leaving..,the helmet. This time, you would confront him. Or her.

“Uh, hi,” you said, walking slowly towards the helmet-man. He was definitely muscular. You were standing in the middle of an alleyway, the darkness flooding round you as the helmet stared down at you from his spot. “Uh, I’m Y/N,” you said, holding your hand out for him to shake.

He didn’t shake it.

You watched as he placed a hand in your shoulder, still not having said anything, and interlocked your other hand in his. He pushed a bit of paper into your hand, your eyes on the words. A phone number. Interesting. As soon as you looked back up, he was gone.

unknown user

y/n: hello

user: Hello.

y/n: who is this?

user: you don’t need to know.

user: come to the boulevard tomorrow at 9pm. leave jason behind. tell him your seeing a friend.

Holy shit x2. The air of mystique around whoever this was…was somewhat unsettling but at the same time, it was kinda a turn on. And wait, how did he know who Jason was? Oh, he’d done his research. Nice one.

And so you did what he said, managing to wriggle out of Jason’s possessive gaze, and you found yourself, waiting where this stalker had said. And there he was, in the same jacket and the same helmet, looking back at you. And perfectly on time, as well. Either he was desperate or…well, you didn’t know.

It was dark all round you, no one around and the streets unlit in this area. You watched as he reached out a gloved hand, taking your hand in his and pulling you between the trees, the mask of the night shielding you. He had strong hands.

You didn’t truly care what he’d do next, as he sat you down, the dry earth coating the back of your dress as he pushed it up, your thighs visibly shaking. A soft gasp left your lips as he trailed his hand over your core. You hadn’t worn panties. Good.

It was almost like he was complimenting you as he gave you a small smack on your thigh, before he removed his glove, dipping his finger between your folds as you moaned, eyes wide. “Shit…” you trailed off, your eyes wide as he added another, your knot building up. Fucking weeks of faked orgasms, and this one felt real.

He didn’t say anything, simply moving his hand faster, the tan skin of his fingers curling as he rubbed at your clit with his thumb. Who was this fucking angel? A loud moan left your lips as your orgasm flooded over you, his hand moving from between your legs, the remnants of your pleasure on his hand as he wiped it down his jacket, watching you for a second, before he left.

Part 1 of his plan: complete.

And the next day, you received yet another message from the same user, your eyes lighting up. It was an address.

user: [address], 10pm. no panties either.

And you arrived at the surprisingly grand hotel, showing the receptionist the room number and she gestured the way. You paused outside the door, thoughts of everything flashing through your head. Who was this man? Was he safe? Was he dangerous? Fuck it, you just needed another orgasm.

As you walked in, you failed to notice the little camera set up on the desk behind a bottle of lotion, your eyes on the man standing in the doorway of the en-suite bathroom. You didn’t say anything, neither did he, as he walked to you, lifting your dress once more and laying you down on the bed.

With one hand, he dipped his fingers into your core, the other hand undoing his belt as he dropped his trousers, taking your hand and wrapping it round the base of his (surprisingly large) cock. You heard the small sound of a groan, not enough to identify who it was, but you pumped his slowly, his own hand toying with your core.

Still, he’d didn’t remove his helmet. You gasped as he pressed his cock against you, one hand pressing down on your throat gently, the restriction of your airways adding to the pleasure, as his other hand pressed your stomach down to stop you from arching. You whined as he tugged your jaw forwards, forcing you to look at the small bump in your stomach.

Holy shit x3.

You gasped as he started moved, your lips parting as he moved his head down, lifting the visor and pressing immediately to your neck, so you couldn’t see anything but his lips as he licked at the supple, sweet skin of your collarbone. His hips picked up pace as you moaned, his fangs nipping at your skin as he peppered kisses to your neck.

You could feel the pleasure build up in both of you as he held you down, his hand moving from your neck to massage you clit in soft, slow circles, his other hand kneading the skin of your breasts. “Shit,” you muttered as he sped up, the knot in your stomach building faster and faster as you suppressed your moans, your eyes rolling.

He pulled out before he came, spilling the liquid onto your thighs as he bit down once onto your neck, sucking the hickey under your coat and out of sight, before fixing you up. And then he pushed you out the room. Oh god.

“What the fuck?!” Jason snapped, stepping into the shower with you. “Where did you get a hickey from?” he asked, your eyes wide. You’d totally forgotten about it. “You gave it to me last time we fucked,” you said coolly, trying to play it off. “Oh…right,” Jason muttered. Wow, he was stupid.

“Fuck,” Lando gasped, his eyes rolling as he tried to keep his attention on the video of the night before, his hand desperately trying to recreate the sensation of your tight cunt, how good it had felt having your warmth clenching round him. “For fucks’ sake,” Lando muttered staring down at the menial drops of cum coating his hand.

And there was only one way he could have you all of himself. Kidnapping. But, how? You were walking down the boulevard once more, trying not to stare at the spot where you’d been fingered by the mystery man, clutching your bag as you walked down to a bakery, where you wanted to pick up your cakes.

And then, a hand on your mouth, followed by a cloth, and out you went.

……….…………………………

Your lashes fluttered open as a piercing yellow light hung over you, your eyes returning to usual as you looked round the room. You had an itch under your nose, and you reached your hand up, only to find your wrists tied together and to a radiator. What the fuck?!

And then you saw it, the pieces falling into place. A laptop placed perfectly so you could see it, with the video of the mystery man fucking you playing on. The helmet placed onto the side cabinet. A phone with ‘user1’ and the list of all your images he’d saved. What was this?

“Hello sweetheart,” a voice said, the second word dripping with almost condescending sarcasm as you looked up, your eyes locking on a pair of greenish-blue ones. He was the stalker? He was hot, though. “What are you doing, who are you?” you writhed against the ties as he scoffed.

“Fight all you want, then,” he shrugged, “I know you want this,”. You shook your head at his words, making him roll his eyes, before he bent down, untying the tie on your wrists and kneeling to your height. “Don’t wanna be here, is that what you want me to believe?” he smirked. “Then go on,” he gestured to the bedroom door.

“Run, then,”.

But you didn’t. You didn’t run. Though you knew you should, that this wasn’t right, but you didn’t move. “Exactly,” he leaned down to whisper into your ear, running his tongue over the mark he’d left, a shiver rushing up your spine. “Get on the bed, then,” he said with a little sinister smile, but you obeyed.

“On your back, lift your dress,” the man said, directing you with a firm voice as you did what he said, your back against the mattress, your hands tugging the material of your dress upwards. “Good,” he eyed your body, “think a little introduction is in need,”.

“I’m Lando,” he said, his lips brushing your ear as he removed his jeans, “you’re Y/N. I know that,” he said, pumping himself a few times before aligning with your entrance as you gasped. “I know how Jason was a dick,” he continued, “I watched you fake those orgasms,” Lando mused, “and how that cunt of a ‘boyfriend’ never once gifted his perfect little girl anything,”.

You whimpered as he took your chin in his fingers, pressing his lips to your jaw, before sliding into you, his other hand taking a little box from behind you, sliding the ring onto your index finger as he rocked his hips. “Oh, god,” you gasped as he sped up, your hands digging into his shoulders.

“I watched how that cunt couldn’t even make you cum, Y/N,” Lando smirked, “such a pretty girl and he couldn’t even make you cum,”. You whined at his words, your body bouncing a little as the lewd sounds of your skin hitting his as he slammed into you, your eyes rolling in pleasure.

“Cum for me,” he said, his teeth bared against your neck as you gasped, your whimpers filling his ears as he carried on. Oh what he fun he’d have with you.

A/N - I love this.

[j-jinxee]

ALASTOR DRABBLE -☆

Suggestive under the cut!

"Holy shit Alastor! Is that a lipstick stain?" Angel asked, referring to a red smudge on the collar of Alastors white button up.

The hotel staff had planned a nice dinner night for all the new guests they'd gotten recently, meaning everyone wore their best suited attire.

"Ha! You're seeing things my good man."

- flashback to earlier -

You'd just finished applying your lipstick, setting the tube down on your vanity as your date for the evening came out of the bathroom. You were so thankful that Alastor was interested in you, everyone knew he wasn't really one for romance, yet here he was as your dinner date.

"Oh my stars! You look so good in that outfit! I knew it'd suit you." You were the one who bought him this outfit, since he wasn't used to wearing anything but his usual dress coat.

"I'm glad you like it my dear! I wouldn't be wearing it for anyone else." It was rare to see him without some sort of coat covering his figure, so you wanted this outfit to be absolutely perfect.

You got up from your vanity and made your way over to the doorway he was standing in. Reaching up to straighten his collar, then looking up to meet his eyes. The smile he wore was hypnotising, and the effect it had on you was serious, it made you smile too - most likely from intimidation. You shifted to your tip-toes and gave him a peck, forgetting about your lipstick that wasn't kiss-proof.

"Oh!" You giggled at the sight of Alastor with lipstick on, yet he didn't know what had occurred. "What's so funny darling?" You laughed and lead him to the mirror, letting him see what you'd done. "Would you look at that..." he spoke, "you've marked me, that's different." His eyes grew darker as he observed the vibrant red on his skin, "you want some more?" You asked with a smile.

"How could I say no to a smile like that? Go ahead my dear." He said, crouching down a bit just so you could reach his neck. You hands grasped his collar, keeping him still as you peppered kisses all over his neck and jawline. Giggling the whole time because of how pretty he looked, absolutely covered in your affection. His hands started to drag up your dress, which was already short to begin with. The room started to fill with lust, you could feel it surrounding you, moving up to Alastors lips to capture him in a proper kiss. Feeling his tongue invade every inch of your mouth, smudging the red substance all over him in the process. His hands got dangerously close to your heat, ready to rip off your dress and take you right now, but suddenly-

*bzz* *bzz* *bzz*

"Oh shit Charlie's calling! Uh helloooo"

"Where are you guys? We started like 10 minutes ago and you know I hate leaving people out."

"I'm so sorry Charlie, I uh- we'll be down in a sec I promise!" You ended the call and turned back to Alastor, getting a proper look at your work. Oh how you wish you could take a photo.

"We're late! We gotta go now." You said, scrambling to the bathroom and grabbing some makeup wipes to sort out your messy lips. Alastor slowly followed behind you and did the same, a little sad he had to rub it all off so soon."As much as I would love to show this off, something like this would tarnish my reputation. I'm sure you understand my dear." You smiled, happy that you found something else he enjoys in the bedroom. Little did he know, you accidentally got some on the side of his collar, very obvious since the shirt was white as well. Oh well.

- back to the present -

"I know a lipstick mark when I see one! You can't fool me old man." Of course Angel noticed, you couldn't wait to tell him what actually happened between you two in your next gossip session.

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

This came to mind outta nowhere and I was like FUCK YEAAAA so aha hope u like itt x

[latenightdaydreams]

hi, i adore your stuff, i have 2 things to say , can we have part 3 of roommates please I LOVE IT, and i have an idea for another story. theres a video going around camp of one of the guys jerking off (konig) and no one knows who it is, and (y/n) the new recruit finds the video and well...... has fun while watching it, eventually she finds out its her connells video, she can't look at him the same and hes getting suspicious why u keep blushing whenever you see him.

pleassssssss I LOVE UR STUFF lots of care<3 <3

Thank you!!! 💖💖

Roommates part 3 is here!

The Video (fem)

Part 2

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: porn, masturbation, fingering

1.0k word count

📹

.

.

“Have you seen the video of the guy on base with a horse cock?” Marie asks you as you both walk back from training.

“What? No. Who is it?” Your curiosity piqued.

“No one can figure it out, but dudes blessed. I’ll send it over snapchat.”

You both part ways and go to your room, undressing for the night. That’s when your cell went off. Opening your app, you open the video that was sent. It’s a video of a gigantic hand wrapping around the biggest cock you’ve ever seen in your life. The way the mystery man strokes it so masterfully…it’s fucking hot.

As you lay down in bed, you shamelessly save the video to your phone from snapchat. You go to your photo app and look at the video. Your hand slowly inches into your bra to lightly draw circles around your nipple, pressing your knees together for tension on your clit. All you can do is imagine what you’d do with a cock like that in your hands. How you’d gag yourself with it until you cried tears from having your throat stuffed.

His fingers look so thick, just one shoved into your pussy would probably feel better than most guys' dicks. The size of his cock is almost unbelievable. He has to be 10 inches and as thick as your forearm. You’d give anything to have this man completely ruin you.

Over the next few weeks, you masturbate to that video almost every night. At this point, you can basically close your eyes and see his cock and hand. Today, during training, Colonel König came over to correct your posture. His hands went to the weapon in your hand and made sure your grip was firm. As you take in his instruction, you gaze at his hands.

Your heart drops into your stomach when you notice the size of his fingers, the small scar over his thumb, and the mole on his middle finger. That’s the man’s exact hand. König is 6’10, so it would make sense for his cock to be enormous. Without meaning to, your eyes drop to the bulge in his pants, noticing just how big it is. Holy shit, it’s him.

Instantly, your face turns stoic, and you look straight ahead. König keeps talking, and it's almost like you’re ignoring him now. Confused, König simply pats your shoulder and walks away. He assumes that he’s simply scary to someone new like you.

This continues for days. If you see him in the hallway, you drop your gaze instantly or turn the other way. When he speaks to you, you almost freeze up. He figured that maybe he accidentally offended you and you are holding it against him; you wouldn’t be the first.

But today, today he caught you. As you both work out in the gym, he catches your eyes lingering on his crotch and you bite your lower lip before looking away. He recalls the video of his that was ‘leaked’ around base and assumes maybe you’ve put the pieces together.

You sit on a bench watching König. His cock soft and still so big resting in his tight basketball shorts. His tall muscular body makes your mind think about how easily he could lift you and bounce you on his cock like a living flesh light. The way you’d let him disrespect you. As you feel yourself get worked up, you stand and walk to the women’s locker room.

König turns and watches as you hurry away when you haven’t really worked out much. He waits a few seconds before following you. As he enters, he closes the door gently, realizing the locker looks and sounds empty, especially because he can hear the faint sounds of your moans. Bold of you to do this in public.

Slowly he walks through the aisles until he sees you. Phone out and in the corner with one hand down the front of your black leggings. The look on your face is adorable as your fingers swirl on your clit.

“What are you watching there?” König’s smooth Austrian accent echoes in the empty locker room, causing you to jump.

You pull your hand out of your pants and nearly drop your phone. “What are you doing here?”

König approaches you, smirking under his mask. “I asked what you were watching.” He says again. His powerful aura makes you crumble.

“I- just a video.”

“Hm.” He steps closer to you, both arms crossed behind his back. “A viral video, perhaps?”

You can feel your face grow hot as he confirms that he knows what you were watching. In your mind you try to come up with different reasons to not come across as a pervert, but before you can even speak König reaches out. His massive hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Do you like what you see in that video?”

“Yes.” You admit bashfully.

König’s hand slips down into your leggings and under your panties. You gaze up at him with wide eyes full of surprise and excitement. His thick finger circles over your clit, pulling a pathetic mewl from your lips as you gaze into his blue eyes.

“I know you’ve probably been dreaming about me touching you.”

“Yes…” The admission falls from your lips as if you’re under some sort of spell.

König slips his hand down further, his eyes still locked on yours as he slips his middle finger into your cunt. You would be such a tight fit for his cock. The look of pleasure that consumes you is adorable. He can see how desperate you are for more.

Just as you thought, one finger stretches your cunt so perfectly. His finger slowly slips in and out of you as you both gaze at each other. His blue eyes like a deep ocean luring you in. You want nothing more than to cum on his finger when he suddenly pulls his hand back.

König brings his middle finger to his mouth, tasting you. His eyes roaming over your body. “Meet me in my office tonight.” With that, he turns and leaves you a mess in the locker room. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you realize that the Colonel just booty called you.

Part 2

[stars-and-the-min]

☆ the wrong way to hard launch (1) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n hello, this is called welcome to part 1 of a fic no one will read :) also i have a taglist now (yay?) so shoot me a reply if ur interested in being added <3

masterlist | prologue | part 1 | next part

TWITTER

lina !!! @EB_selina · 2h omg my f1wags debut??? y'all i've really made it 🫶

EB BAR @theemptybottlesbar · 2h us when our frontwoman decides to hard launch her relationship that we were scrambling to denounce: 🙂🔪🩷 ↳ camilina gfs fr @ drummergf · 1h the EB Bar admin working overtime bc lina insists on stoking the flames of this ridiculous rumour ↳ lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 1h media literacy where? this is a fucking confirmation bestie

INSTAGRAM

selinabui

liked by oscarpiastri and 103,273 others

selinabui me when i lie to myself and go date yet ANOTHER athlete 🤠👍 this one goes vroom vroom in expensive cars (p.s. dear news sites, pls stop using my old photos)

cameliazzz all that expensive media training chucked down the drain i see

eb_jonno the orange jumpscare holy shit lina it's like u hate him or smth ↳ selinabui @eb_jonno wdym he's very cute 🫶

landonorris Oh hello there ↳ oscarpiastri @ landonorris 😀 ↳ mclarwins @ landonorris OMFG LANDO WHAT ↳ selinabui @ landonorris bro why are you acting like we've never met or smth ↳ pi4str1 @ selinabui there's something about her that's so 😭

TWITTER

🕯️manifesting EB3 🕯️@ linabelles · 5h ok i fear we need to start weighing up the pros and cons ↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 5h pros: WE'RE FREE FROM AMERICANS, he's actually cute, we already follow f1 bc of guanyu, he's aussie <3 cons: white, he's another fucking athlete, orange ↳ 🕯️manifesting EB3 🕯️@ linabelles · 4h 'free from americans' SO TRUE we were in the trenches with t*mmy

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 3h everything i find about this girl is just 😬 ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 3h oscar, get the FUCK away from that girl ↳ clovie @ luvyouvie · 2h omg why, what's up with her?? ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 3h kinda the classic rockstar shit and her ex is tommy howard (nfl running back)

liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 18h SELINA WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS??? WHERE DID THIS ENERGY GO 😭😭😭

↳ emme @flowersforcami · 18h as smo with a footballer ex, the comment on massive egos is so true T_T

↳ Ryan Forrest @ryanforrest93 · 17h Every time that interview pops up on my TL, I just get reminded of how YOUNG she was going through all of that nonsense. She was barely 20 and totally being gaslit by that arsehole. ↳ liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 17h ^^THIS!! yes!! it was crazy that ppl gave her so much shit about staying with tommy even after the cheating but it was her first real relationship and it fucked her up massively

INSTAGRAM

zhouguanyu24 Margaret Court Arena

liked by selinabui, oscarpiastri and 59,283 others

zhouguanyu24 Went to go check on the baby sister 💪

selinabui my personal photographer fr (good luck tmr 💚)

emptybottlesbar Always stoked to have family stop by for a listen! Best of luck on the track 💪 ↳ selinabui @emptybottlesbar he doesn't need luck. he needs his team to fix the pit stop problem. he needs divine intervention

zhouguanyu_br piastri is dating zhou's sister?? ↳ jemma.wren @zhouguanyu_br cousin actually, in chinese culture they refer to paternal cousins as just siblings

stakef1team Looking forward to seeing Lina in the garage ↳ selinabui @stakef1team oh lmao that's not happening 🥰 ↳ pastry81 @ selinabui IJBOL she said you ain't SHIT see you in the papaya garage

cameliazzz thanks for dropping by on ur race weekend <3 hope it was worth your while (and family-friendly 🤫) ↳ zhouguanyu24 @ cameliazzz Thank you for keeping her alive ↳ selinabui @ cameliazzz why has it taken you over 20 minutes to go get pizza 🤡 ↳ cameliazzz @ selinabui why are you asking in ur cousin's comments 🤡🤡🤡 (they need to cooka da pizza)

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

emme @flowersforcami · 34m walk with me here... if zhou went to friday's show, do you think oscar did as well? and if so... did they just watch empty bottles' almost 2 hours set of lina and kas flirting 😭 ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 22m i literally can't think of anything else now :) do you know what the encore song was? ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 21m kaslina duet of we don't talk anymore (og by charlie puth) ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 20m oh how do we even defend them

EB BAR @theemptybottlesbar · 1h whole team in shambles... @EB_selina we hope it was worth it

oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 1h every linami realising they need to defend her stage persona to piastri fans... ↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 1h WE SWEAR ON OUR HONOUR THAT THIS GIRL IS A TOTAL LOOOOOSER. SHE'S NOTHING LIKE WHAT THE MEDIA WRITES HER AS. HER ONE HOBBY IS SUDOKU. SHES A COMPLETE DOORMAT 😭😭 ↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 1h ok well, hang on... i think they get the point

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 5h after a literal night of deep-diving, i take back everything i've ever said about selina bui bc she's such a cutie honestly i get it, i kinda want her now

INSTAGRAM

oscarpiastri

liked by cameliazzz and 113,292 others

oscarpiastri Finally got the green light to 'hard launch'

selinabui sorry i needed to be vetted so hard :/

logansargeant Oh so we're keeping secrets from each other now #fakefriend ↳ oscarpiastri @ logansargeant Sorry, did i forget the bit when you were there when we met or something 🙂

2cami4lina oh she let him in the studio, we're fucking done for

ausgp Some extra Aussie luck for the home race ↳ pi4str1 @ ausgp she's australian??? ↳ emptybottlos @pi4str1 do a simple google search first - the whole band is australian 🤡 they all grew up in sydney

piastri_lina but wait, the way i lowk manifested this... ↳ emptyb-aid @piastri_lina lock ur doors i fear i'm coming for you

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife

[savingcrxws]

EYES ON FIRE | maybe someday

[ prev chap ] [ next chap ]

synopsis. you and carmen just keep bumping into each other.

word count. 4.3k (gah damn)

warnings. language, hardly proofread again i'm sorry its an addiction

authors note. thank u guys so much for the support in these previous chapters! it’s really amazing to me that u guys enjoyed it so much! i would recommend listening to maybe someday by the cure for this chapter!

“Yeah, Sugar. The appointment is booked for Thursday, the reps will probably be coming in at like…three o’clock,” you mutter, flipping through the manila folder absolutely stuffed with documents and sticky notes. 

You pursue your lips at all you had to get done within this week alone–sign installation permit, permit to replace the hot water heater, permit to fix the ventilation systems, reapply for occupancy capacity signs because of the restaurants lack of other permits, and holy shit…

You completely forgot to schedule the follow-up appointment with the BACP consultant. 

You groan, slamming the thick folder into your forehead, the papers thwacking against your skull. Natalie sounds startled on the other end of the phone, no doubt hearing the sound on her end of the call. She questions if you’re okay, and you only respond with a gentle hum before tossing the folder back down on the office table. 

“Hey, Suge, do you think I can call you back later? I need to schedule a follow-up consultation with Raquel before another rep hops on my ass about the boiler replacement.” 

“Of course, hun, call me back whenever you can,” Sugar starts and you can hear some papers flicking in her side of the call as well.

You had managed to convince her to work from home more often, worried that all the stress from the demolition inside would affect her pregnancy and her overall wellbeing. After some back and forth, she had begrudgingly agreed to spend two days working on the project from the comfort of her own couch. 

And even though she complains still, you know she appreciates she has a little bit more time off of her feet. 

“Don’t work yourself too hard, okay, Bug?” 

You nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “Same for you, Bear.” Sugar hums once again before you both give your goodbyes and end the call. 

You expel all of the air out of your chest in a large puff as you slide down the office chair.

After signing onto Team Bear, your new home-away-from-home had been this tiny office in the back of the restaurant. For the most part, no one came in and disrupted your work, which allowed you to have your head shoved into piles of paperwork, be stuck on phone calls, and be forced to reread legal jargon for hours on end with little interruption. 

Well, as little interruption as there could be with the restaurant quite literally falling apart around you. 

Thankfully, everyone was very respectful of your work in helping the developing business. You were practically putting every ounce of knowledge that you learned from both college and the real-world experience (including connections within the industry) to help push the restaurant closer to the deadline. All the while still dealing with your other commitments to other businesses that you had prior to signing on to this project.

Staying at The Bear for eight hours a day had its benefits, though.

For example, there was always something entertaining going on in the background. Like last Tuesday, when Fak had decided to send a sledgehammer directly into the only remaining wall of the office–sending bits and pieces of drywall onto your clothes.

Another benefit of being stuck in that office chair is that you had an excuse to ignore everyone around you. And by everyone, you really mean Carmen.

After the awkward office run-in last week, the two of you hardly spoke to each other. Sure, there was the ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ that you threw to each other and the words you exchanged when you caught him up on the status of licensing, but you two had yet to have an actual conversation.

It was clear that the both of you were still walking on eggshells around each other—and everyone could see it. But you had an inkling feeling that Carmen had been wanting to say something, judging by the short glances you sometimes catch him throwing in your direction.

Kinda similar to the one that he’s giving you right now.

You feel the heat of his stare on your face before you see it. He’d been staring at you for a couple moments now, long enough for you to no longer consider it an inquisitive glance.

You peek up from the folder and make solid eye contact with Carmen through the hole in the wall. The man flushes almost immediately, the red color sinking past his collar. You purse your lips and give a small nod of acknowledgment and he stutters in his spot.

And then he’s turning away.

Like he wasn’t the one just staring at you a moment ago.

You roll your eyes and turn back to your original position in the seat. Picking the folder up again, you flick to the papers listing the requirements for the next fire suppression test.

“Men,” you mutter, before picking up your phone and making a phone call.

Three days later, the office is completely demolished and your work revolving around The Bear has been moved to a family-owned coffee shop two blocks over.

In the short span of time, all of the walls in the store had been busted down and the restaurant had practically turned into a hazardous wasteland. And since construction was too far out of your pay grade, you decided to leave the heavy lifting up to everyone else.

“Alright, permit done!” You throw your hands up in the air, your theatrics catching the attention of a couple next to you. You could hardly care for the stares, though, you had been working on getting that permit for the past four days straight. Slamming your laptop shut, you pack up your bags and head off to the cash register to buy another coffee before you go.

While you wait for your drink, you decide to scroll aimlessly through your phone to kill some time.

“Oh shit,” you hear a voice utter behind you, and you barely have time to process the word before something ice cold is running down your back. “Fuck, I’m fucking sorry, I didn’t even see you—“

You gasp on reflex, taking a step forward and shivering. The person who spilled their drink on you is stuttering out apologies. The liquid seeps into the jacket you were wearing and you pull it off immediately.

“Yo, what the fuck, dude,” you curse, watching the large stain of coffee spread even farther across your jacket. “Watch where the hell you’re walking—”

In the middle of trying to give the perpetrator a piece of your mind, you failed to recognize the familiar sound of the voice that was spewing apology out of apology. But in a second, your eyes met a recognizable set of blue and you halted your words.

In front of you stands Carmen Berzatto. In his signature colored sweater and a half-spilled cup of coffee in his hand.

And he looks petrified.

It seems he didn’t realize just who was the unlucky victim to his americano attack either until you turned around. His mouth agape, he utters out a jumbled apology, glancing back at you, your stained jacket, and the cup in his hand like his brain was still trying to understand what just happened.

“Uh-uh, fuck, sorry, I swear this wasn’t on purpose,” he rambles, placing his cup on the counter behind you and grabbing some napkins right after. He steps back towards you and shoves his hand of napkins to you. “Here, shit, I’m so sorry.”

You sigh, taking the napkins from him, noting the slight tremor that persisted in his hands as you did so. Taking in a slow breath, you close your eyes and count to ten before responding. “It’s okay, Carmen. Don’t worry about it.”

And even though you tried to maintain your peace, you can hear the annoyance seeping out of your words. Carmen glances around the counter before looking back at you and your soaked jacket. You know he probably wants to apologize some more, but honestly, one more apology might land him with a punch to the gut. 

Just as he opens his mouth, you raise your free hand, silencing him immediately. You shake your head in dismissal before taking the napkins offered to you and blotting the coffee out of the fabric of your jacket. Carmen simply stood in his place, watching you, seeing if he could do anything to redeem himself in this situation. 

However, after they called your name for your drink order, you dumped the used napkins in the trash, took your drink and hightailed it out of the café without one more word to the man. 

After the coffee shop incident, you swear that you started to see Carmen everywhere. 

You needed a quiet place to plan outside of your house so you went to one of the local libraries. Guess who’s walking outside the building?

You need a late night snack and decide to hit up the corner store. Guess who’s in the refrigerated section?

Hell, you decide to stay late at The Bear for some last minute checkups? Guess who forgot to grab a few things before leaving that night?

You swear that before you hopped on The Bear train, you never even saw a glimpse of the man. Sure, you lived relatively near the restaurant, but Chicago is fucking huge, there’s no way you would run into one of the few people that you’re trying to avoid. 

Absolutely not, apparently. 

Finally finishing up the weekly budget report and estimate for the following weeks till open, you decide to take a step away from work for a second and give your brain some time to breath. 

“Hey, Syd, if anyone needs me, I’m outside taking a smoke break, ‘kay,” you yell across the restaurant, receiving a thumbs up from her from the other side of the room. “Be back in 15!”

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a pack of cigs and a lighter before heading to the back entrance of the restaurant. You place the cigarette between your lips and head to the backdoor. Stepping out and around the alley to the designated smoke corner, you fiddle with the lighter switch, hearing the light sizzle but seeing no flames emerge. 

You groan, flicking the lighter again and again and still no lig–

“Umm, uh, you need a light?”

You scream, your heart almost skipping a beat and falling out on the concrete below you. In your alarm, both your cigarette and the lighter drop on to the ground. "Shit," you mutter and throw a glance over at whoever had scared the living shit out of you and, surprise suprise . . .

There was Carmen, standing in the alley a few feet away from the door. One leg was kicked up to rest his foot against the wall behind him and a cigarette hung loosely between his fingers. His eyes trailed across you for a second, then he glanced at the cigarette on the ground before taking another draw from his own and staring out the wall in front of him.

If you had half of the energy, you would tell him off for scaring the shit out of you and book it out of the enclosed space.

Lucky for Carmen, however, you really needed that cigarette.

Reaching back into your bag once more, you pull out another cig and walk slowly over to the man. Your steps gain his attention once again and when your eyes met you gestured to the lighter hanging out of his cooking apron.

He grabs the lighter and hands it to you. As you reach out to grab it, your fingers brush against his knuckles. Some quick thought in the back of your head wishes that that physical interaction lasted a little longer, but you're quick to shoo that away into the deep recesses of your mind.

Lighting your cigarette, you hand the lighter back to him before taking a drag. Blowing the smoke out, you slid down the wall until you could lean back into a squat against it.

The two of you just stand there, in complete silence aside from the occasional cough from an improper pull. This quiet isn't nearly as awkward as the first run-in the two of you had. Maybe it's because of the nicotine or maybe it's because continuously running into Carmen over these past days had subconsciously made you a little more comfortable with his presence.

. . .

Nah, it definitely had to be the nicotine.

You glance up at Carmen, who continues to smoke even though his stick had turned into a bud a while ago. You make note of the new tattoos that run down his arms and hands, eyes stopping at the rose flower tattoo on his left hand.

You remember when he got that one done with you at the parlor for his eighteenth birthday.

Subconsciously, you rub at the matching rose on your thigh before sighing and focusing back on your cigarette. Young, dumb decisions, you think.

Above you, Carmen watches your focus retreat back and purses his lips. In all honesty, Carmen usually never finishes a whole cigarette, but he really needed an excuse to stay out here longer with you.

These past couple of days had been tormenting him just as much as it had been you, albeit for different reasons. Everytime Carmen ran into you, whether it be in that cafe or that random grocery store that one early morning, he was plagued with memories of everything that he had fucked up.

Not just the relationship that he had fucked, but the happiness that he had stolen from the both of you.

And he had so desperately been trying to apologize, but every time you saw his face, you would get that look on your own. That dread, the anxiousness, that annoyance. That anger.

Whenever he saw that expression on your face, he would get too choked up to say anything of significance. A simple 'hey" would be all that would leave his mouth. Either that or he would stutter like he was a fucking kid again and embarrass himself in front of you like he seems to be doing constantly lately.

Carmen sighs, taking a final hit from his cigarette before stomping it out on the ground. By all previous experience, Carmen would book it out of the area by now, but something in his gut was telling him to stay this time.

Glancing down at you once more, he sees that you have taken to scrolling through your phone to kill the time. He bites the corner of his lip and decides to sit against the wall like you.

Instinctively, you toss him a questioning glance but when he didn't make any move to speak or gesture towards you, you shook your head and went back to whatever video had popped up on your feed.

Fuck it, he thought.

"I'm sorry."

You halt in the middle of your smoke, nearly coughing on the fumes but managing to swallow it. You look over at Carmen inquisitively, wondering where the hell that apology came from. The dirty blonde was wringing his hands, mouth opening and shutting as if he was trying to get the words out.

"Sorry for the, uh," he mutters, casting a quick glance in your direction to assure himself that you were listening. "Sorry for the, for uh-You know I didn't-I don't know how-"

"Yo, Carmen," you interrupt the world vomit that he was spewing, tossing your cigarette down before snuffing out the light with your shoe. You center your focus back on the man next to you, who seemed to only have you in his attention. "Just say what you want to say. No bullshit."

Your blunt words seem to ground Carmen long enough for him to gather his thoughts. He nods his head rapidly in that way he does when he's clearly overwhelmed before he clears his throat. He takes in a large inhale and clears his throat, ready to speak again.

"I want to apologize. For everything. For how much of an jackoff I was back then, and for how much I am right now," Carmen stars, eyes staring solidly into yours to show just how serious he is. "I didn't deserve you, and you did nothing to deserve the way that we ended."

You feel something burn the back of your throat at the mention of the end of your relationship. The total radio silence from him for the days prior, and just when you had managed to gather the courage to ask the question of just what the hell are we doing, Carmy, you were cast aside like nothing.

He was right, you didn’t deserve that.

Pushing back the feelings bubbling up in your chest, you nod your head to signal that you were listening.

"I-I, it's no excuse, but I was really going through some serious shit. And I really felt that if I cut everyone out of my life, I could actually get a second to breathe you know," Carmen pauses and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. "I-I just know you deserved-you deserve better. But seeing you in this restaurant day-in and day-out, working away to help my sister, my crew--help me? I just felt even more like a piece of shit."

He turns fully towards you now and you can see his eyes turning red from the emotion he was clearly holding behind his words. "You didn't deserve what I did, and you definitely don't deserve to be cleaning up my messes now."

"You deserved the world, and I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you."

His last words send a sharp pang into your chest. Here you two sat, sitting next to each other, the distance between you two seemed to be filled with words unsaid. You stare into his eyes a little longer, at a loss for what to say completely.

On one hand, you wanted to reject his apology, tell him to fuck off and leave him alone in this alleyway. He would deserve it after everything.

But he has that familiar kicked puppy-dog look in his eyes and he's chewed his lip red, and he's actually sorry.

You sigh, leaning your head back to rest against the wall behind you. Staring up at the sky, you trace the shapes of the clouds above as you collect your thoughts.

"Yeah," you start, nodding your head to yourself. Carmen tenses up at the ambiguity behind both your words and your tone. He would have to have his own head shoved up his ass if he didn't realize that you had every right to refuse his plea for forgiveness. Frankly, that's exactly what he was expecting you to do.

"Yeah, okay. I can forgive you, Berzatto."

Carmen's heart sinks into his guts, mouth slightly agape in pure shock. "You-you can?"

You give a small smile, turning your head to face the man. "Yeah, Carmen, I accept your apology."

The dirty blonde opens his mouth again but you put a hand up in the space between you, effectively shutting him up for a second.

"But," you trail, "I'm gonna forward you that dry cleaning bill from that cafe, asshat. I've been trying to get that shit out for days now."

Carmen flushes a bright red at the mention of the coffee shop run-in you two had, a broken chuckle leaving his mouth at the obvious teasing tone in your voice. You were joking with him, for the first time in years, you two had managed to glimpse at the level of comfortability that you once shared.

Carmen chuckles again, running a hand through his curls. "Yeah, well, can I raincheck that until after the restaurant starts making money? I'm kinda flat fucking broke right now."

You giggle at the honesty behind his words. "Yeah, I ran those calculations by the way. Have fun being flat broke for at least three months after The Bear opens."

"Shit," Carmen mutters, a grin still on his face.

"Yeah, shit." You nod in his direction before pushing yourself off your crouched position on the ground. "Anyway, I'm gonna head inside to get back on that shit. Fak's fucking electric guy keeps flaking on us."

Carmen's eyes follow your form as you stand, holding eye contact with you when you glance back down at him. "Yeah, yeah, I should probably meet up with Syd for the chaos menu anyway."

He hurriedly stands up, wiping his hands on his work pants. After he finishes, he looks at you once again, noting the small smile on your face. For a second, he swears his heart skips a beat.

"For the record, Carmy," you play with the nickname on your tongue, having not said it in quite some time. Carmen flushes before nodding for you to continue. The small on your face falls for a second as you look at him. "You pull that shit with me again, I'm sicking the dogs on your ass. Seriously."

Carmen clears his throat, straightening up at the more serious tone of your voice. Although you were not nearly as angry looking at him as before, he knew that you were serious. There were no more apologies after this, no more fuckups.

You look at him expectantly, waiting for some form of acknowledgment.

He nods. "Yes, chef."

After the conversation outside The Bear, you and Carmen seemed to flow together much easier than before. Granted there was the occasional stray glance casted in your direction from the man, but overall, the two of you were on much more agreeable terms.

The rest of the crew seemed to notice the absence of uncertain tension between the two of you. You explained to Tina, Richie, and Sugar that you two had simply talked it out and were no longer on "spiteful ex" terms.

Richie, being the annoying man that he is, insisted that something else must've happened--to which you responded with a firm shoulder check and yet another middle finger.

Overall, the two of you seemed to only talk about business stuff, which made it easier for conversations to flow. Less personal, more concrete talks.

"Alright, Carmy, we got that certificate of occupancy, right?" You question, running down the legal checklist once again. When you heard no response, you asked again, only to be ignored again. Finally looking up from your screen, you glance up at the man, trying to figure out what could have possibly distracted him this time.

He's glancing, moreso glaring, down at his phone, watching it ring but making no moves to pick it up. He's spaced out almost, like he's lost in his thoughts.

You clear your throat and decide to try his name again. "Carmen!"

He shoots up a little and looks at you, muttering an apology out as he clicks his phone off and slides it into his back pocket. "What were you asking?"

"Umm, I was trying to see if you got that certificate of occupancy from Cicero mailed in," you raise an eyebrow at him. "You know, the one we need to get that other big, shiny certificate that shows that we can legal conduct business in the state of Illinois? That certificate?"

"Uhh, yeah, yeah. Mailed it in the other day, yeah."

You squint at his weird responses before shaking your head and diving back into your work. "Well, on another note, I've been speaking with a liason down at the office and he said we can have our second fire suppression test in two weeks instead of the project four."

Carmen walks up to the foldable chair you were sitting in, peering over your shoulder to look at your screen. He rests his hand against the back of your chair unconsciously and you can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You clear your throat and lean forward a little to get some distance between the two of you.

"Who's that going to?" The man points to an email that you are in the middle of drafting. Your eyes follow and land on the email you were writing to one of your school buddies. "Oh that? I'm just messaging one of my old classmates from college about an idea I had about our issues with that retail food license thing."

Carmen humms, peeking down at you as you explained the process you were thinking of going through. Though your eyes were stuck on the screen, clicking through different documents as you continued your explanation, Carmen's eyes were glued to your face.

To him, this all felt like some weird dream that he was having. His former high school sweetheart, sitting in his restaurant, talking all kinds of smart talk that he could barely understand, practically pressed against him. Although he didn't move over to your chair with the intent to press against you, he definitely noticed the proximity that you two shared.

Life had been a whirlwind these past weeks, but he felt that when he was near you that a lot of those anxieties he often has screaming in his head quieted down a little. He tried to chalk it up to the confidence that he had in your skills, but even though you are incredibly talented in your work, he knew that it was something more than that.

Something that he had to swallow down.

"Carmy, you motherfucker, are you even listening to me?" You call out, turning more in your chair and fixing him with an annoyed glare. Carmen swallows before nodding his head. "Ye-yeah, you have a plan to get that retail food license and alcohol seller's license at once right?"

You hum, giving him a once over again before turning in your seat. "Exactly. I think that my buddy Stephen can help us with that fire suppression test, he knows a thing or two--"

Carmen's eyes trace down your eyes, nose, and lips, noting the signature bite marks you left on your bottom one. He runs a tongue across his own before carding a hand through his hair to collect himself.

He was so fucked.

taglist: @grippleback-galaxy @chatitajens @rooster-bradshaws @hrrysweetcherry @whoreforbucky @notsochillnerd @jackierose902109 @how2besalty @rosewine-5 @honeybug-victoria @beansap @sincerelyrab @xxconfettiitsaparade @softsy @imafatassmess @bibliophilewednesday @chanluuvr

if you would like to be added to/removed from the taglist, just tell me below! thank you so much for reading!

*if ur @ is striked thru, tumblrs being a pain and not letting tag, imma keep trying tho!!

[rapunzelbro]

I saw u have nothing for velvette so,, maybe her and reader are friends and she’s genuinely impressed by them but refuses to say it directly and just. gives them a lot of gifts dhdksjd

Velvette Being Friends with You

This is my first time writing for Velvette and I would love feedback on this! Anywho! Enjoy~

Masterlist Request to be tagged Velvette

You would meet Velvette by her finding your modeling Sinstagram profile

She’s more impressed with your following and how tf she didn’t find out was beyond her

Like 20k?

Shut the fuck up is she fucking blind?

You would post about the latest styles and trends and all while talking about Velvette’s new styles and showing your own designs based on the trends she had started, which impressed her genuinely

She wouldn’t admit it because you’d have her fucked up if you think she would

You wouldn’t reach out but she would after your latest post and design you made based on hers

You internally freak tf out because you’re worried she is was going to yell at you for talking about her designs when she asked to set a meeting up with the two of you

Cue you and her having that meeting and you’re scared shitless, that you don’t even post and your followers lowkey freak

When you first meet her she’s late by 10 minutes but honestly it gives time for you to calm down

“So like, why haven’t I heard of you and why the fuck aren’t you working for me? You’re actually decent”

She’s super straight to the point, looking up from her phone to look at you looking over at your features

She’s full of judgement??? Like holy shit??

After talking you finally begin to work under her for designing.

Unlike her other employees she tends to spend the most time around you, curious of your abilities and what you have to bring to the table

Oh and she stalks the fuck out of your Sinstagram account. She doesn’t want you bashing her behind her back, not that you would. You admire the hell out of her

Would probably force you to make a post of the two of you and your followers would freak and shoot up over night to 50k.

Outside of work she often would ask you to stay and help with ideas. Well not ask, force you and wait for your creative input and act like she doesn’t like what you say but she really likes it.

Months would go by before you two officially are friends, or what she considers to be friends, it’s hard to tell with her.

You two make your own collab together that honestly is so fucking awesome.

But she says it’s annoying working with someone else and it’s stupid

She secretly loves it so much but won’t tell you

You’ll find new sketchbooks and pencils at your desk constantly as well as the highest quality fabrics to work with

You never know where it comes from but you know it’s her but don’t thank her she’ll just deny it

“You think I did that? Piss off”

She waits for your reaction and hopes you like it

Oh and she would never let you meet Vox and Valentino because fuck them, you’re her friend not theirs

Being friends with her is.. interesting to say the least

[urrockstar-xe]

sneaking out - t.c x fem!reader

posted jan 21st, 2024 10:50 am

@dingus85 asked : May I request a Tara Carpenter x fem!reader based on Cruel Summer- Taylor Swift where they have been sneaking out to the beach every night (scenario 5). This time they’re just being stupid, and reader accidentally confesses that she likes her. Somewhere in the fic Tara uses one liner 18.

im so sorry for the wait love, I hope u enjoy.

masterlist

not proofread

wordcount: 0.9k

It was Chad’s idea to have one big group vacation for the summer, a simple nearly 50-hour road trip from New York to California. A few weeks on the beach to help everyone recover from the first semester of college and some time for Sam and Tara to learn how to be away from each other again.

Every small-town kid needs a Beach Vacation, right? Well actually, your plans for the summer were to find a good job but just when you wanted to argue, Mindy pointed out that you could share a room with Tara, and Tara responded by clapping her hands together, smiling at you and

“We’ll have so much fun!” 

How could you say no to that?

Everyone had taken turns driving, except for Mindy, her job was to make sure everyone had enough snacks and to ensure you’d make it to the Airbnb in one piece.

You were lucky enough to find one on the beach, giving easy access to the water and the sand that Mindy soon found to be an incredible nuisance, Anika was enjoying the chance to dress up in different beach weather outfits and there was also the perfect spot to play volleyball which Chad forced everyone to do.

And then there were you and Tara, you had the same favorite part of this vacation and it was the late-night bonfires.

You had only one with all of you involved but the following night you both snuck out together to start up another one, and this quickly became routine for the both of you.

You couldn’t help but enjoy this silly game you were playing in your head even if Tara didn’t realize you were playing at all. Sharing a bed, waking up early enough to make breakfast, making the bed, and taking turns to shower after beach days just to sneak off and come back smelling like firewood. 

It was perfect for you, and maybe it was for Tara too, but obviously, you weren’t going to ask. 

Tonight was one of your last nights in California and none of you were ready to leave, except Mindy, who wanted to go home the first week. But of course, you were most worried about going home, everything would go back to normal and you could no longer live in your little bubble with Tara and her soft smiles and giggly laughs,

and your little sneak-out “dates” that were just for you and Tara.

But that just meant you had to make the most of it, which leads you outside sitting on an old beach towel next to the pretty girl, watching the pit of flames dance before your eyes. 

“I’m not ready to go home yet, I like sneakin’ out with you.” Tara’s voice caught your attention, turning to look at her as she spoke. She was thinking the same as you. “We could always sneak out together back in New York” You spoke in the same quiet tone, as if you weren’t allowed to speak louder than the sound of the sea.

Tara pouted, “It’s not the same, though.” Oh. You nodded in agreement looking back at the fire. 

“I wanna go swimming,” She said suddenly, standing up and taking off her sweater, well your sweater, you had let her wear. “Tara, you’ll freeze” You smiled, knowing she wouldn’t listen anyway as she was already walking towards the water, tossing her sweatpants to you as you laughed. 

You watched amused as she eventually made it to the water, she hesitated, “C’mon, my girl Tara Carpenter doesn’t back down from stupid stuff!” You called out in a teasing tone, hearing her laugh as she threw her head back before running straight into the water, “Holy shit!” she yelled, squealing as she resurfaced.

You laughed as Tara ran back up to you, soaking wet and gratefully thanking you as you put the towel around your shoulders. “That was so stupid” she laughed, shivering slightly as you rubbed her arms, laughing with her as you attempted to warm her up. 

“That is why I like you so much” You had barely noticed the words come out as Tara’s smile softened, staring at you with a tilted head and puppy dog eyes. “What?” Tara’s voice was quieter now, still having a slightly shaky tone as she was still freezing. 

“What?” you repeated the question, you could backtrack, sure but Tara wasn’t stupid, she wouldn’t believe that no matter how well you sold it she saw it in your eyes, 

you’re so screwed, you almost laughed.

“What did you say? You like me?” Tara’s grip on the towel tightened a little, that soft look on her face capturing you the way it always did. You opened your mouth to speak but closed it, not knowing how to explain yourself in a way that made sense but Tara spoke up instead.

“Come here and kiss me, dummy” She smiled, and you didn’t want to waste any time as your hands moved to her face and pulled her in, cold, soft lips hitting yours as if they were meant to be on yours. Tara abandoned the towel to hold your wrists. 

“You are so catching a cold,” You said through heavy breaths earning a sweet laugh in response.

“Yeah, but you’ll take care of me.” you smiled at that because obviously you would.

“Yeah, I will.” You said, Tara smiled back.

“I think I will sneak out with you back in New York.”

[gentlefangz]

ithink this is what tumblr would be like in the dogman universe: a simulator

😀 randomcivillian-956 follow

can those villain asshats get control of those goddamn monsters i have lost literally every single fucking thing thanks to those brainless pieces of shits last week a fucking T-REX SKELETON destroyed my fucking HOUSE and everything around it

🪻 inmylane-1999

how are you able to say those words

😀 randomcivillian-956 follow

what words?

🪻 inmylane-1999 the a word, f word, and s word

😀 randomcivillian-956 follow

oh i see you're one of the Collardale inhabitants. screw the fuck off your town is a CURSE

🪻 inmylane-1999

what did i do? :(

10 notes

🪰 greenweirdthingwithteeth follow

hnstly i dont get y Daryl hangs arnd that pig guy hes rlly mean & bad

🐊 piethrowingboss

didnt u help us go after him when he ditched us after the mini jail broke 2 bits?

🪰 greenweirdthingwithteeth follow

yeh butt hes still rlly mean & i was a lil moar concerned 4 Daryl

🐊 piethrowingboss

ohhhh kk

5 notes

🐕 zupabuddiezthezenutz

zomg did u guyz watch that new mini-documentary w/ Petey The Cat n Zarah Hatoff??? that waz tragickk..

#holy shart i have so much moar respect 4 him now..

6 notes

🔄 24hotdogsatyourdoorstep reblogged

🌆 icareforyou follow

still dont know why people are supporting Petey Duckhat just because of that documentary, didn't he terrorize the city for more than a month or two?? ntm he quite literally MUTILATED Officer Knight and Greg The Dog's bodies bad enough with that bomb to where they had to become that sick and horrible abomination i have to stomach through seeing on the news every week.

😀 randomcivillian-956 follow

i know right?? like hes genuinely a horrible cat but people are supporting him for no other reason other than "oh hes a victim!!" like shut the fuck up and grow up.

comicpanel-deactivated-98325749857

op i wouldn't say DogMan is sick and horrible, he seems to be in great condition despite such an accident and hard surgery to conduct, and looks perfectly happy. while i don't support Petey Duckhat either, you took it a step further and suggested that DogMan is currently in conditions horrible enough to render him an "abomination".

🌆 icareforyou follow

dont you post tips for fucking evil monsters on your blog.

#LMAOOO dude was SLAUGHTERED so hard they deactivated #redogs

1,509 notes

🌭 24hotdogsatyourdoorstep

walking on the street with a small can of living spray in my pocket and the nearest cop explodes into blood guts and viscera

10 notes

🦷 bigmonsterinyourheart

okay i get that Dr. Scum is a real and kinda sucky person and all that but his labcoat kinda fucks!!

0 notes

✨ lookatthestars

Hot take or whatever but I don't think we should trust a guy who gets really distracted by squirrels and balls and a kitten who could easily get hurt to protect our city. Lightning Dude IS one of the better options as they ARE a highly durable and strong robot, but The Bark Knight and Cat Kid maybe aren't our best bets, they could get hurt easily and aren't exactly professionals.

Don't get me started on the Friendly Friends, I don't think we can trust two guys who JUST left the same exact trio that was responsible for that marshmallow factory's destruction (which left many injured, some DEAD), what if they're pretending? Also the bugs could easily get killed, they're small and fragile, the most work they can do without a high risk of getting smashed is spying on villains.

Commander Cupcake's a different story, as I'm pretty sure that guy only helped out, like, 3 times.

#anti-supa buddies #anti-friendly friends #twinkle twinkle little star

15 notes

🪁 lalalalala89

dude imagine if we were in a book rn and ppl were posting on tumblr abt us

0 notes

🎠 supastarr

remember, calico trans toms are perfectly valid! even cis toms can be calicos, and fur pattern doesn't determine exact gender, especially with fur dying technology nowadays! :)

506 notes

[graves4girls]

Jealous johnny cage one shot?Preferably rock star fem reader

☆ chemical kids and mechanical brides | johnny cage

✮ wc. 1.01k ⚠︎ warning(s): fem!reader the hardest part of this was finding a good enough title i stg. i'm still iffy about it but wtvs ⟡ be sure to check out my work on ao3 → gravesforgirls !!

The adrenaline from the show is still running through your veins as you pack up your kit, humming to the song blasting from the stage as you brush away the hair sticking to your face. There were significantly more people in the stands than your last show, probably due to the leaked photos of you and Johnny cuddling up to each other at one of his movie premieres. It wasn't long after that people found out who you were, and your band's popularity sky-rocketed in the following weeks. 

You shove the duffel bags and drums into the back of the van, a smile cracking your tired expression when your eyes fall on him.

"That was fuckin' amazing."

His hands encase your face, littering your face in kisses as you laugh quietly, weakly pushing at his chest.

"Don't, I'm all sweaty."

He sticks one more kiss to your lips, big grin plastered to his face as he looks at you. "Arguably hotter."

You roll your eyes, shoving his hands away and pushing the doors closed with a sigh. "I almost don't even want to go to the club. The excitement is wearing off and now I'm just exhausted." 

He steps closer to pull you into his chest, hands grabbing at your hips to keep you in place as he presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

"You and I both know damn well they'll chew you out if you ditch 'em. Y'know, for a rockstar, you sure are a goody two-shoes."

You punch his chest lightly before slinking your arms around his neck, pouting a bit. "Am not. I just like to sleep."

You huff quietly when the van's horn blares, reluctantly pulling your arms away.

"Beat it, Cage! You're holding up our drummer!"

"Fine. She's all yours." He waves at the girl hanging out the passenger window, dropping one more soft kiss to your lips as he lets you go. "I'll meet you there. Don't have too much fun without me."

You're ushered toward the bar as soon as you step into the lounge, opting to sit on one of the stools and wait for Johnny while your friends disappear into the crowd. You busy yourself with your phone, and you fail to notice someone staring at you from across the room, slowly approaching you through the sea of people drunkenly dancing. 

"Hey."

You jump a bit at the voice, eyes finding a man suddenly taking up the space in the previously empty seat beside you, but you shoot him a tight-lipped smile despite the spook. 

"Hi."

"You're from that new punk-rock band right? The tough…tough something?"

You perk up a bit, eager at the opportunity to meet a fan. "Ruff puppies, yeah. Spelled r-u-f-f."

He nods with a small laugh. "Right. Not the best with band names. But yeah, I've heard a ton of your songs. Shit's sick."

"Thanks. We actually just came from a show a couple blocks down."

He hums, waving down the bartender. "What's your preference?"

You shake your head with a small smile, waving a hand in the air. "Oh, I'm not drinking tonight. I'm just here for moral support."

"Let me buy you something else then. How about a coke?"

You shrug. "Really, it's not necessary–"

He orders a beer and a coke, shooting you a warmer smile. "This is probably the only time I'll ever get to buy the pretty drummer from Ruff Puppies a drink. I'm gonna take it."

You flush the slightest at the compliment.

"Your latest album by the way? Best shit I've heard in the scene in a hot minute. And, from one drummer to another, you're insane."

You spend the next few minutes shooting band recommendations and techniques back and forth before his eyes wander behind you, mouth falling open a bit, and you follow his gaze to find Johnny ambling over to you, the traces of a scowl on his face.

"Holy shit. You're Johnny Cage, right? Man, I love your movies. Ninja Priest was so good."

"Yeah. I appreciate it." He turns to you, snaking a hand around your waist. "Can I talk to you real quick?"

You knit your brows together, but you nod all the same, excusing yourself and following him into a secluded corner of the club, tilting your head as you look at him.

"What's up?"

"Who was that?"

The wrinkle between your eyebrows deepens. "You're talking about the kid? He's a fan of the band. He was just asking about my drumming."

He huffs a bit. "If he's a fan, he should know you have a boyfriend."

"Johnny."

His eyes aren't on you, instead drifting over your shoulder to glare at the person in question. "He bought you a drink."

You roll your eyes, slipping your fingers into his belt loops and pulling him closer. "It's just a coke, Johnny. Don't be like that." You press a kiss to his chin, leaning against him.

"Be like what? I'm not being like anything. 'M just not crazy about random dudes flirting with my girlfriend."

You bite back a laugh, hooking a finger in the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, kissing him softly. "You're cute when you're jealous."

He grumbles as you draw back, hands resting on your waist as he continues to avoid your eyes. "I'm not jealous. And I definitely wouldn't be jealous of that little rat."

"Mhm…whatever you say, babe." He finally looks at you fully, softening a bit at your smile. "I think you need to loosen up a bit. On me?"

You drag him back to the bar, and you're about to sit back down when he lifts you from the stool, taking your spot and pulling you down into his lap instead, and you fight against his strong hold in a weak attempt to get away. 

"You're so embarrassing. Let go."

His arms tighten around you, and any attempt to pry them from your waist is futile, hiding your flushed face in your hands as he chuckles. 

"I just wanna make sure everyone here knows you're already spoken for."

[lowkeyrobin]

Hi idk if this is possible or if ip this makes u uncomfortable but maybe reader x Quackity or ranboo where reader is actor (idk what they/them people who act are called 😭😭😭😭) anyway and maybe there doing an award show and Quackity is was the shows on live and he’s just really supportive about it

hi!! and yes of course! ; also nonbinary actors are just actors, don't worry! even some women/femme presenting entertainers prefer actor over actress so it's no big deal! I don't know too much about award shows so bare with me LMFAO

QUACKITY ; award show

summary ; you've been nominated for best actor in supporting role, and Alex is there to cheer you on

warnings ; language, reader wears a tuxedo

genre ; fluff

word count ; 666 (ooo the devils gonna get me at 3am guys 😨😨)

masterlist

Alex was your biggest fan, genuinely. You built your career from the ground up with him there by your side each step of the way. You'd never stray from your YouTube roots, so when your new movie-fans found your social medias, they were quickly fixated on seeing your content and you with Alex.

You'd been acting in smaller shows and movies for a while, like T@gged, a horror web series, you played a very minor role in The Walking Dead, and almost most importantly, you had a pretty big role in the A24 film Mid90s. Mid90s was basically your breakthrough, and you loved working with your costars and just being a skater who could act.

But, after the release of The Last Of Us, you'd gained a fair amount of new followers and subscribers. You weren't expecting your role to be that important to viewers, but people loved seeing you on screen playing such a different character that completely contrasted yourself. Alex did too, he religiously rewatched the movie just for you and would talk about how awesome or hot you looked in certain scenes. It was flattering. However, you weren't expecting to be nominated in the best actor in a supporting role over it.

You obviously brought Alex with you to the Oscar's, I mean, holy shit, how could you not? You both wear tuxedos, him in a dark burgundy color, and you in a dark grey with a lighter grey pattern. Both of you wear black collared shirts underneath your blazers and sit down at a table. You didn't know anyone else, nor were you friends with anyone else at the event, sadly.

You and Alex sit and talk about the event and the Streamer Awards coming up for him soon and what categories he'd been nominated in. Focusing the conversation on him made you a little less anxious about it all, considering if you for some reason won, you'd have to go on that stage in front of hundreds of people on live television to talk and hold your award.

A few hours pass, and finally, the show starts. You two both show respect for the other actors and filmmakers, but talk in between bits because your anxiety was only getting worse up until the point where you were on screen, showing your nomination for best supporting role.

Alex smiles and nudges your arm, telling you, "Look, it's you!"

You hide your face in your hands, embarrassed and flustered. You quickly smile and wave at the camera, however, until they move on to the other nominees.

"And the winner for Best Supporting Actor is..."

Alex taps his fingers on the table, watching you bounce your leg under the table as you watch.

"Y/n L/n!"

"Oh my God! Holy shit!" Alex shouts, standing up with you. He wraps you in a hug before quickly telling you to go get your award.

You grab his wrist and drag him up backstage and onto the stage, making him stand with you as you claim your award.

"Hi, oh my God, this is- this is crazy! Thank you!" You smile, speaking into the microphone as people clap and cheer for you. "Thank you so much, and thank you to my awesome boyfriend, Alex," You turn back to him, smiling as he holds his hands in front of him, clasped together. "I wouldn't be here without him, and I can't thank him enough. And thank you to all my fans who have been supporting me along the way, even new fans who just learned of my existence. Thank you so much, words can't describe how grateful I am right now"

You smile, looking down at the award before you walk off stage, Alex right behind you. He stops you backstage, wrapping you in a longer hug.

"I'm so proud of you, Y/n/n!" He smiles, "I love you so much"

"The adrenaline feels like drugs at the moment, my face is numb, holy shit"

[pretzelposts]

Zombie | M.S

warnings: p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP YOURSELF), mentions of SH, mentions of death, use of y/n

genre: smut, fluff

“Time for haircuts!” I call out, hoping the boys would hear me. Five years ago when I first met the triplets, I had to personally learn how to cut men’s hair and do it just the way they liked it. Every time I cut their hair they always leave the chair happy with their new cut.

Matt comes running down the stairs, his lips curled into a precious smile. Nick and Chris follow right behind Matt. I pull out a chair from the kitchen table and begin cutting their hair once at a time.

about an hour later

“Y/n..” Matt groaned, leaning on me like a baby. “What is it, Matty?” I ask. “What do y-you feel like..” Matt murmurs, his words making my face flush a deep red. “I.. What?” Matt whines in frustration. “I s-said what d-do ya feel like. Ins-Inside you.” I bite my lip at Matt’s words. “I-I dunno..” Matt leans into me. “Can I f-feel..” Matt practically begs, giving me those damn puppy eyes.

“I-I… Okay. Okay. Yes you can… f-feel.” I huff. “Thank y-you!” he smiles happily and kisses you on the lips gently, his blood staining your lips.

he grunts softly and unzips his pants, then pulls down his boxers that I just bought him the other day. “So h-hard.” Matt murmurs to himself. I gasp at the size of his cock. Holy shit. I can’t take that. “Y-you’re… I can’t take that! You’re so big!” Matt shakes his head. “It d-does not hurt a-as much as you think it does. It f-feels good once you’re u-used to it, b-baby!”

he smiles warmly before tugging down my panties and lining himself up at my hole. i throw my head back, my jaw dropped almost immediately as he enters me. he moans, grabbing into my hips. i gasp once more, tears pricking my eyes almost instantly. “B-baby? Are you o-okay!” matt asks, his heart filling with guilt. “n-no, i’m okay!” i insist.

“o-okay.” matt starts to go again, his thrusts agonizingly slow. i beg him to go faster, but he says “i c-can’t… not strong enough.” i whine in frustration. “l-let me ride you then!”

and before matters can even comprehend, he’s laying on his back as if straddle his hips, lowering myself into his long ass dick. i moan, reaching down to grab his shoulders for support. Matt looks up at me in adoration- likes he’s never seen anything more beautiful. the way my mouth is agape as i ride him, my eyelashes batting uncontrollably as i moan and whine on him.

“b-baby— cum.” matt gasps softly, throwing his head back. “i c-cum.. inside? inside you?” i nod frantically, burying my top teeth into my lower lip as i release on him, moaning and grunting. i can feel him release inside me, his cum painting my walls. i help him ride out mine and his orgasm before coming to a stop. i lay down on him as he both pant, trying to catch our breaths.

“y/n..” matt pants softly. “yeah?” i ask, panting quietly. “i l-love you a-a lot.” matt confesses. i’ve never heard him say that. but i’ve known him for five, almost six years. i’m ready to say it back.

“i love you too, M-matty.”

A/N: kinda got lazy on this one! this will not be the last part, i’ll make more time to work on other parts but school is just really hard right now! love you guys, thank you for any interactions.🩷

[mintawasalreadytaken]

i saw in ur pinned post that ur into horror & am curious if you’ve extended that into fics at all? do you have recommendations?

i recently got SLIGHTLY into drarry + horror-ish vibes in fics and only read a few but i fell in LOVE with “Yours Is The Earth (Hold On, Hold On)” by chickenlivesinpumpkin - and it was like just the right amount of fucked up & just the right amount of like ‘holy shit??? DAMN’ with normal drarry in it.

was wondering if u had any similiar spooky time recs for drarry fics- maybe??

(‘: thank u so much ( ur works are so large they scare me a bit but i’ve bookmarked them for a less coward me in the future )

🦇 SPOOKY DRARRY RECS! 👹

hullo and THANK YOU for this rec! i am dearly thankful to get 100k+ of deliciously dark writing to sink into!

unfortunately, while i know i've read some really great drarry horror, it's lost to my AO3 history instead of bookmarked, so i'll be damned if i could remember or find any of it ☠️ my bad.

instead, i asked some fandom buds for their spooky drarry favs. in no particular order, here they are:

🔪 cruel blade by @wheezykat

Drowning in his grief after the murder of his husband, Draco will do anything to bring him back.

But this is not Harry. This is something else entirely.

🧠 mastermind by @schmem14

Draco Malfoy has been with Hermione Granger, is currently dating Harry Potter, and he's determined to have Ron Weasley at any cost. He has to complete his set of three, after all…

🌊 saltwater stain by @the-starryknight

Seven days stuck on a boat investigating a rogue ghost wouldn't be so bad if Harry didn't want Draco so much. Draco has his rules and Harry's content to follow them, but the air feels different away from the shore. Is it possible that the sea could offer Harry something impossible on land?

📚 i demand a soft epilogue by @the-starryknight

James didn't arrive on the Hogwarts Express, and so Harry hasn't slept in a week. Something has brought him back to the stoop outside a building marked "Library" in gold letters. He's going to go inside. Maybe the Librarian can help.

🩸 in our blood by @secretsalex-blog

Draco is an accomplished pure-blood curse breaker, and Harry is tasked with accompanying him on his latest job—cleaning up the Van Boer mansion, which has been under a devastating fertility curse for seven generations.

🎃 the other cottage by @corvuscrowned If Pansy wasn’t shagging Ginny Weasley, Draco would never have been dragged to Luna’s ridiculous Halloween party in the first place - meaning he wouldn't be sitting in the corner of the room with Harry Potter all night.

But when a strange comet passes overhead, things start to get even weirder than usual.

As the night unfolds, Harry and Draco are forced to grapple with strange realities, reckon with new sides of themselves, and find their way back before the comet finishes crossing the sky.

👻 on the last day by @thusspoketrish

Draco is still mourning the recent loss of his mother when the Wizarding World is struck with the tragic news of Harry Potter’s untimely death. It’s just his luck that Potter not only comes back as a ghost, but seems intent on haunting Draco as he’s the only one that can see him. It’s a race against time to retrace the last few days of Potter’s life in order to find his body before he’s lost to the living or spiritual realm forever. On their journey, they’ll uncover secrets, betrayals, and a horrific truth that will disrupt both the living and the dead.

🏚️ the manor by @kittycargo

There was something wrong with the Manor.

✨bonus points / non-Drarry✨

🐓 tidewracked, sidetracked by @vukovich (Luna/Theo)

A Cursed professor. An attractive Cursebreaker. A hut that grew chicken legs and rampaged around Hogwarts.

☁️ flour & flesh by anon (Pansy/Hermione) The cottage on the hill is shrouded in clouds like a secret. Our secret. In some muggle neighborhood lore, I’m sure we’re the witches inside, granting a glimpse of the future in exchange for a rusted penny. And no one else could find us unless they knew the way.

i'll shamelessly self-rec my whumptober collection and this erotic body horror fic replete with puns for you to sample as well.

do you have a fav spooky drarry fic to share? leave your recs in the comments/links in a reblog!

thx to @prolix- @kittycargo @the-starryknight @fictional @schmem14 @nv-md @citrusses @vukovich & @kittycargo for the recs xo

[rosewaterandivy]

9. part-time soulmate, full-time problem

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, cursing, sexual situations - SMUT & idolatry (my usual bullshit), we think we’re ~prank Sinatra~ to disastrous effect i.e. a fake elopement, Modern!Teacher AU, English teacher reader, History teacher Steve, slow burn, friends to lovers, romance.

A/N: hey girl, u up? lemme come thru 💦💦💦 🥵🥵🥵 *slaps roof of fic* You can fit so much reverence and smut in this bad boy. Here’s 5.1K of pure filth and debauchery, holy water can’t help me now! Poetry excerpt from Sue Zhao. 18+ mature content (minors dni). Reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated, please let me know what you thought; enjoy & thanks for reading! 💜

series masterlist | playlist - newly updated!

Steve's playlist for Trouble: trouble will find me

previous || next

Now, Spring Break, Joshua Tree, CA ➡️ Las Vegas, NV 

“You did what?”

And it’s not a question, not by a long shot. 

If Nancy Wheeler wasn’t some 1,800 miles from you, you’d be seeing the patented snarl right now. The one that says ‘you’ll be dead by my hand and my hand alone.’

There’s a very real possibility that you’ve overplayed your hand this time. What started as a prank, a harmless lark, had devolved into one screeching phone call from Steve’s mother for him and a blistering series rapid-fire of texts for you, followed by a phone call during which Nancy was going to rip you a new asshole.

She didn’t appreciate your texts as you’d hoped.

Trouble 👁️👄👁️: so BDE is not *just* an energy with Steve. got it, good to know.

Natty light 💯: She lives! We haven’t heard from you in days. Wtf did you idiots do?

Trouble 👁️👄👁️: nothing to be concerned about! on an unrelated note, before you check insta remember that i am your BESTIE and you would miss me terribly(!!!) if i died, even if it was at your own hand

Natty light 💯: … I’m going to kill you, and resurrect your dessicated corpse so I can strangle you … slowly and painfully

Trouble 👁️👄👁️: pls mother, no, i’m scared

But hey, it’s not like you woke up and decided to potentially fuck up your life today.

So, yeah. Definitely went too far with it this time, but in your defense, it’s not like anyone was there to reign you in. Steve was just as liable to go on with your half-cocked schemes, even more so now that you could sit back on your heels, all pretty smiles and wide, sweet eyes as your hands unbuckle his belt, still supplicated with chin on his knee, “You said anything...”

Folded like a house of cards the second you got your mouth on him. Shudders when you begin with your tongue first before eager lips stretch to fit him, guiding until he’s nestled in your mouth. And then you move, deliberately measured, building a lazy pace, sluicing him up with spit.

“Ah, shit…” Steve’s words are already betraying him. You smile as his cock pops out of your mouth.

“How’s that? Still wanna make that dinner reservation?” Thick lashes framing glittering doe-eyes peer up at him. Purposely coy. “Or do you want to stay here?”

He returns to himself. Dazed, he blinks at the bright lights and the glossy tiled floor. The marble countertop of the sink where he grips like a lifeline.

The restroom down the hall of the restaurant. Turn a corner and twenty people are sitting at tables, drinking cocktails and cajoling. Your mouth back on him wipes the thoughts from his brain.

Squelching when you push him back past your molars, crushing your tongue.

You slide him out, voice hoarse and breathy and it chills him to the bone the way you whisper, “C’mon baby, let’s have some fun.”

The second day in California runs a lot more smoothly, and the third day is as easy as a breeze. Granted, it’s a hot, humid, sticky type of desert breeze as you wipe a hand across your forehead in the heat of the day.

Steve hums a patient tune, leans back on both palms and you watch the sunlight drape his bare chest in a warm flare. Glowing gold and bronze as if it’s transmuted from the hue in his very eyes.

He is hard and hot when your bare skin touches his. Steve lies down on his side to face you, panting slightly as you glide your hand up and down his arm. Oh fuck, it’s been months and the first man you touch is more like something carved by a master sculptor of Renaissance than any other man. It should be illegal for someone to look this good.

Trembling, you touch the hard planes of his torso, the ridges in his abdomen, the swell of his chest taking hard breaths. You shut your eyes and imagine the way he looks right now—breathless and wild. His knee parts your legs easily and one hand descends to feel your center, saturating your underwear.

“Jesus, baby,” Steve sighs into your neck. “You’re makin’ me crazy. This–” He begins to slide his digits up and down, getting the slippery wetness all over his fingers, “Already…”

A shudder rolls through your body upon hearing his words and you arch into his touch, moaning when he rubs your clit in perfect pulsing circles. He moves forward, kissing the tops of your breasts through your bra, nipping at the soft flesh spilling from the cups.

“Steve, you’ll make me come.” You admit, a little shyly even as your hips rock consciously into his hand. You paw at his arms, squeezing the ridges of muscles.

And you’re abruptly startled awake by the sound your own moans. It’s past four in the morning when you rouse from sleep, frustrated to leave behind the pleasant escape the dream provided.

Damn it all to hell.

A creak of the wood door alerts you to his arrival. Steve is quiet when he sits on your bed, one knee pulled up to his chest while the other leg slinks down by your side, thigh brushing yours where your legs kicked off the covers. A sigh rolls through him at the early hour.

There is discomfort. His body retreats with the shift of your atmosphere. Always too itchy in your own skin. Afraid of being seen, noticed, thought about. He’s good at hearing your silence. Good at reading your language.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

He glistens like a god come to drown you in the sweetest of dreams. It makes your heart plummet to its death at the thought of his departure when you shake your head.

“Me neither.”

He lays back on your bed with a tired sigh, close enough to touch. Your own personal wonder.

“C’mere then,” you tug him to your side. Steve presses his lips to your neck, smiles into the wispy hair at the nape, nuzzles your locks aside to reveal more shoulder. Breathing soft and slow with his face against your neck, chest to your chest. He’s folded and tucked against you, all his strength and gravity nestled to your side.

“Honey—” Steve murmurs, more purposefully now, rasps your name, so soft and reverent you almost don’t hear it.

A confused noise, a second of readjustment to a new position, to his touch, and then you stir and purr.

“Hey, you.” Voice like warm fire, even with disrupted sleep from past few days.

A heavy silence falls between you.

Tell me what you’re thinking. If it was a mistake, tell me. If it wasn’t, tell me. You’ve been avoiding me and look—I want your goddamn babies, but c’mon. You gotta throw me a bone, I’m shit at reading signs.

He wants to take you to pieces, eyes roving your sleep-drowsy form, shorts rucked up on your thighs, shirt askew. Would devour you whole if you’d let him, savor your cries and moans at his capable hands. Make a ruin you only to build you right back up, unable to think of anyone else save him.

Steve arches, brushing the tip of his nose against your chin, up to your own nose, mouth hovering but not quite touching, just feeling each other’s atmosphere. You cross the distance and kiss him, grip tighter now like he could collapse right into you and god, you wish he could. Let you keep every last bit of him forever.

“Can we—”

You savor his lips, caressing the line of his cupid’s bow with your own, tongue flicking over the corners of his mouth, punctuating it chastely like a ritual. He moans, hand on the plane of your back moving, fingers scrambling at your spine before he palms your thigh and slots you flush against his torso with one leg hooked around his waist.

“God yes. Lemme just—”

He tugs at the waistband of your sleeping shorts before he changes his mind and his hands slip into the leg opening of the silk instead, keeping you right where you are. He rucks his own sweats down, just enough to spring himself free, shushing your whines, never letting you get too far, slipping upward, finding your heat.

“Eyes on me, baby.”

“Okay, Steve—ah—”

Right. So this is happening. Like, right the fuck now. 

Oh god.

You’re both surprised and terrified, blinking at his urgency, and then you start scrambling, too. A beatific grin blooms on your lips before you tip forward and slowly glide yourself down his considerable size, rubbing back and forth, hips moving easily.

Steve stutters breathlessly like he might go into shock. “You’re all fucking— oh fuckin’ hell.”

You only arch into it, holding his chin between your thumb and forefinger, kissing the bristles of his jaw. You’re soft and warm and he’s utterly overcome. Little noises fall from one mouth to another. An awkward shift and your thighs slip off his, head knocking into him, but neither of you are bothered.

A half-hearted cluck of your tongue gives way to a low moan and you shuffle, flush against his chest, bare bodies warm and growing hotter now. Your palm rubs down his chest, savoring the rougher feel of his hairs there, contrasting your own skin, grasping his jutting hipbones, the strong plane of his abdomen.

Eager fingers slip between flesh. Velvet and surprisingly slick and wrapping around his digits like syrupy flower petals. “Baby girl,” Steve hums at the way you sigh. “Pretty girl.”

Shudders. You’re weak and boneless, slack and supple, pliant to his fingers and words. Little sweet-talker, you never knew he had such a clever tongue until he first slid it against yours in that fevered kiss in December. Now he’ll know all your weaknesses, know every lock and how to pick them until you’re all the way opened up for him.

It’s hard to focus when he’s like this. Perfectly warm. Perfectly adoring. Perfectly fitted. So, so bright with the faintest pink bursting over his cheeks.

You whimper with his every stroke. Every plunge. His other hand runs itself up the nape of your neck, fingertips in your scalp and you arch like a cat for more. 

“So good,” Steve praises, “Nice and tight, squeezin’ around me. All wet for me, aren’t you?” 

“Uh— mhm.” Inarticulate noises. Woozy and wrapped in his affection.

His eyes– pupils blown wide, half-hooded with lust and love– immobilize you, memorizing every inch of your face. He smiles. Christ, a smile that could launch a thousand ships. That could blind the whole world.

You curse quietly, blood pounding in your ears, your chest, your throat where he latches on with his perfect mouth, marking you up with his spit quickly followed by his teeth.

“Keep going—oh, don’t stop–“

“You want it like this, honey?” He sucks on your collar, on your shoulder, taking every whimper and cry as a command to continue.

They flower all over your chest. Red and purple and swollen bright for everyone to see—just like him. And the very thought of him, of you, lost to it takes you over the edge, calling his name like you’re at an altar in supplication.

“That’s it, honey. Be a good girl and come for me.”

With a tremble that vibrates all the way to into Steve’s soul, you obey. Onto his hips and abdomen, gushing a little, and with some embarrassment that it happened all so quickly. 

Your lids flutter open and you see as Steve hitches himself deeper, grinding his hips, gripping your thighs, and fills you all the way up until the stars behind your eyes whites out your vision, making you stutter and keen as you continue to fall apart.

Then he stills, pulling you even closer, body slick with dew in the early morning light. The two of you lie in perfect symmetry, trembling in each other’s arms.

And because you’re a sap with too much poetry rattling around your brain, all that pops into your head is:

In my dreams I am kissing your mouth and you’re whispering ‘where have you been?’ I say, ‘I’ve been lost but I’m here now. You’re the only person who has ever been able to find me.’

You allow yourself to sink into the feeling, expecting the tight fit of something new but finding that not to be the case at all. But rather brushing against something well-worn, as if it had been waiting for you all this time. 

“God, Steve—” you rasp. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

Steve laughs low, kisses the blooming bruises up and down your neck, makes you whine again, sensitive and aching. His clever tongue wonders sweetly, “How’s staying in bed all day sound?”

You laugh. He’ll learn everything you like. Know all your weaknesses. How can you say no to something like that?

It’s different, almost tender in the afternoon. 

His abs clench in time with his fists, wet fingers digging into his palms, bit-back groans barely contained. You keep going, marveling at the way he’s sensitive, kissing his neck, letting him feel good. Steve begins to protest, embarrassed at the way you’re moving, at how he’s powerless against you.

“S-slow—hold on—“

“Let me do it, Stevie.” He’s so hard it hurts. “I wanna learn everything you like.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Steve holds himself to calm down, other hand steadying your teasing. Nothing’s happened yet, you just started back up again after a late breakfast, having slept soundly through the morning, and he might already blow his whole fucking load.

“Okay—just—will you give me a second–”

Using the position you’re already in, he pushes you up against the mattress and guides you back down, hitching your thighs around his hips, sinking a bit at a time until you’re landing on him with a gasp. He eases into you with what he hopes is restraint, letting you have it slow, feeling you shudder from inside your goddamn bones with every further inch until he takes it away and you shimmy down to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back. And you look perfect.

“Was it good?” He blurts, “With Eddie?”

He doesn’t know why it slips out; he never thinks about it, honest. It was a series of hook ups. A few times over the years—and he’s not jealous like that because you’re all adults, and it’s not like he’s a virgin or an ascetic, either. You freeze, but he really is an idiot because instead of apologizing or rectifying that outburst, he cuts you off.

“I can give it to you better.”

Because Steve wants to. He really does.

He presses onward before you can respond, taking hold of what little courage he has, making you whimper, feeling prouder as he goes. Another one and you’re meeting him with a roll of your own hips. Another one, harder now, and you’re shaking down below him, tipping back into the pillows, grinding recklessly with that exhilaration he adores.

“Baby, you feel amazing.” Tongue-tied like a schoolboy, he’s keening after your words. “Can I have you all the time?” And Jesus wept who knew you could talk so sweet and filthy.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Steve promises, his jaw hanging open in awe, “I’m yours. You can have me as much as you want— anytime.”

You bite your lip, skin of it pulled taut and snapping back bruised, light-headed and reeling. Glistening across your collarbones with his spit, body trembling like a high note. He feels it— just a little more— god, you look incredible— he’s gotta hold out for this— and then—fuck. 

It’s wet and divine when you come. Slick and tight, dragging him under as you ride out your orgasm, pulling him in like he belongs in you forever.

And he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows.

Steve could die happy seeing your face like this every day.

Two weeks prior…

“Eddie…tell me the truth,” You ask slowly, folding clothes (well, that’s a generous term— it’s more haphazardly tossing and bundling laundry into your open suitcase). “It’s good, isn’t it? Shawty, tell me what that thang do!” 

You waggle your brows, make a V-shape with your fingers, and lewdly run your tongue up and down between them. Steve thinks he sees you looking at him, but he feels himself flushing at your comment and pretends like he’s enthralled with the most recent episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Half-keeping an eye on you to make sure you actually pack actual pajamas and pants for this trip. 

“Dude. Stop it.” Eddie groans, knowing you’re all too familiar with his endowments and prowess from previous experience.

Whomever currently was getting the Eddie Munson midnight special was having a helluva time. 

You lob a pair of leggings toward your suitcase, “Kobe!”

You miss.

Eddie cackles, “How’re you gonna disrespect a legend like that, and miss?!”

“Okay!” Steve yells, pushing you off the couch in the living room, “That’s enough of that. I’m going for a run.”

Landing on your shoulder with a grunt, you brush away the rough sting of the carpet and catch the last second of his shadow before he’s gone from the room.

“What?” You call, projecting your voice and hoping he hears, “What’d I do? Steve!”

The scrape of the chair legs signals Eddie standing up, too. A shake of his head and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“You know,” he starts, “For all your insight, you’re pretty dense.”

There’s nothing in your head but sawdust and thoughts about his… activities under the sheets his flavor of the month. You shake it out of your brain before it lingers too long. Eddie points sharply down the hall to where Steve’s shadow has slipped out of view and hearing-distance.  

“You know he likes you, right?”

Uh? Your brain is the mac loading wheel, just spinning. “Of course he does? We’re buddies?”

Eddie cuffs you in the back of the head, “Get it together. Like is putting it lightly, too. Love is closer to the truth.”  

“Now,” Eddie leans over you, menacing you with his height. “How about you go listen to the record he gave you and think about what you’ve done, hmm?”

Then, he saunters off, shaking his head all the while, leaving you to gape down the hall like a fish. Steve? In love? With you?  

Flashes explode in your brain like fireworks. His jacket over your shoulders—not the first time. Sitting underneath your legs— nearly tradition. Morning errand runs even though he hates them. The banter—him, scolding your motor-mouth, you— never stopping. Circles he rubs on your knees— the laughter—damn it, so much laughter.

Steve? In love? With you? It’s more likely than you think.

Back in your bedroom and chastened, you wait until the front door closes signaling Steve’s exit. Turning to the wall dedicated to your impassioned analytical skills, you eye the various colors of yarn showing the various connections that could be drawn from the song choice and order in which they were placed. 

Printed out pages of lyrics have been annotated to death, some phrases scrawled more largely than others for importance. You stare at the wall for the better part of an hour, long enough to come to the end of the playlist. Sufjan Stevens rhapsodizes on the mystery of love and fades into Matt Berninger singing how he needs his girl.

A gasp. A choke and a wail somewhere deep inside your chest as you slowly, methodically begin removing the pins and pages from your wall. Realization settling on you heavy with mood. 

Clearly, this was not some bush-league bullshit.  

Hesitant, but growing in the knowledge that Steve, your best friend whom you annoy to no end, is irrefutably and undeniably in love with you. You’d have seen it sooner if you weren’t such a dumbass, all the signs had been there just lying in wait. The front door opens once more, his voice calling out to Robin in the kitchen about dinner. 

“Steve.” You light out of your room, tearing down the hallway. “Stevie! Steve! I’m sorry! Steve oh my god! I’m a fuckup!”  

You trip on the corner of the floor runner, as he turns, slightly confused, one hand reaching out to catch you as you careen into his chest with a thunk.

You must look a wreck, hair in disarray and panting hard, him sweat-slick, bearing your weight as he sets you right on your feet.  

Steve raises an eyebrow, blinks at the way the front of your shirt slides from your shoulder and takes his ear buds out, looking at you like you’re a first-rate idiot.

And well ... he’s not wrong.

The flight to Vegas is painless, though you are put out at having to leave the love nest that bloomed like a night flower in the Californian desert. A lazy, slow start to the day. Sticky and sweet like biting into a ripe peach, juices flowing down against sun-warmed skin. 

His hand pulling at yours, guiding you through the crowds of the airport, looking back to you frequently, as if he can’t bring himself not to. One hour later and viva, Las Vegas!

As it turns out, it’s fairly easy to fake a Vegas elopement. Just a matter of subterfuge and a wedding chapel, which are a plenty in Clark County. Steve in a suit (“You weren’t even wearing a tie, Steven! Who gets married looking like that!?”), rotating the signet of his ring out of sight, the ‘H’ resiting against the underside of his ring finger so just the band was visible. 

You in a dress, something white and off the rack from Neiman’s, your ring, courtesy of Steve, moved from your right hand to your left. Sapphire earrings as your something blue, Manolo Blahnik pumps in your favorite color, a gift from Steve, as your something new.

A well-timed call to Jonathan, he was in town for a shoot and just so happened to have a few hours to kill. An appointment at the Graceland Wedding Chapel and 250 dollars later, you have yourself a believable elopement, no marriage certificate required. 

Even drove out to the Red Rock Mojave desert outside of town for a photoshoot courtesy of one Jonathan Byers, professional photographer. By the time you’d made it back to your room at the Wynn that night, he’d already done a rough edit of a few photos for you to post to the ‘gram. Piece of cake, really.

It was all well and good. Steve even let you tag him and posted his favorite images himself, miracle of miracles. The man does jack shit with social media, claims he only has the account for the groupchats and memes. Captioned it something like ‘married AF’ because he’s a dork; first photo in the carousel was a shot of your hands, showing off the new bling with the wedding chapel sign in the background.

You opted for the more truthful, ‘ew, boy. you’re, like, obsessed with me’ and selected a photo where your legs wrapped around Steve’s hips after he’d told you to ‘time to giddy-up, yeah?’ with a wink and caught you in his arms before kissing you stupid. You were quite pleased with yourself until the phones began to ring.

“Jus’ ignore it, honey.” His teeth pull against your bottom lip, bringing your attention back to him. You screw your eyes shut, hand falling to cup the nape of his neck as his lips continue their mapping of your skin. Purposefully, he plays with a lock of your hair, tucks it behind your ear, and lets his finger ghost over your neck. “Gonna kiss you now,” you murmurs, “Doin’ some of my best work here and you’re missing it.”

He pouts.

Your throat clenches, bobbing with a thick swallow and Steve thinks if this wasn’t so tender and sweet, he’d be latching onto that pulse instead. “Okay…” Your mouth parts expectantly, eyes fluttering closed, hand coming up to caress his jaw.

It’s sublime. It’s perfect. It’s the biggest relief he’s ever felt when you return his touch—parting your lips to receive the tip of his tongue against yours. Thirst. Desperation. Enthusiastic limbs scrambling to feel more of him. A bucking of your hips against his thigh and he’s soaring up into heaven with the sensation.

Except the damn phone won’t stop ringing. 

“Steve,” you pant, hand reaching up to fist his hair and pull him from your the sensitive spot he’s located behind your ear. As you tangle your fingers in his mane of hair, securing your grip with a tug, he breaks contact with your slick skin with a strangled moan.

Oh.

You file that particular reaction away for further investigation and direct his attention to the loudly ringing phone on the nightstand. He rolls off of you with an exasperated noise and answers the call in a sulk. “Hi, Ma.”

His expression changes so quickly you nearly have whiplash; lazy and pouty one moment to shocked silent in the next while his mother lectures him, a mile a minute. Eyes cutting to you, he grabs your phone from the same table and holds it in font of you to unlock it via Face ID. You roll your eyes and bat him away, taking a slug of water from the glass on your bedside table.

“Shit,” Steve mutters, putting himself on mute and his mom on speaker as he scrolls through your phone. “Holy fucking shit, nonono.”

You lean over and take a peek. He’s thumbing through Facebook, pupils blown wide in shock at the sheer number of notifications on his accidental post. Because yes, Steve accidentally cross-posted the photos from Instagram to Facebook as an update, like genius. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

He drops your phone on the bed when it starts to ring, like it’s a venomous thing that could take him down in one strike. 

Sheepishly, he looks to you and mouths ‘I’m so sorry’ as he returns to his mother’s raging diatribe. 

After checking the caller ID, you answer, voice flat. “Hello.”

“You little scamp,” Eddie tuts, “Stole my idea of eloping in Vegas and everything, I hate you.”

In spite of yourself, you crack a smile. “It’s a prank, babe.” A sigh as you pull your hair up and off of your shoulders. “Not legally binding at all. Having Byers on deck really sold the idea though.”

“You are the absolute worst, Trouble.” You warm at his soft laughter, “What’d you do to get Steve to agree? Drop to you knees all nice and pretty?”

A swell of pride accompanies the rush of heat at the thought of your earlier rendezvous. “Y’know Eds, I did exactly that. How perceptive of you.”

He cackles. “It’s tried and true for a reason, babe.” Steve is nodding furiously at whatever his mother is yammering on about, bare back toward you as he sits on the edge of the bed. 

A push and a slide across the rumpled sheets and you’ve wrapped around him like a vine. His thumb rubs at your ankle, pulling your leg to envelop his hip. Opposite arm dangling across his chest as you press your face into his neck, revelling in his scent—cypress, vetiver, and something slight musky tinged with salt. All warm and pliable.

“Nance may have called in some reinforcements.” Eddie says carefully. “I told her to fuck off, but she’s beyond reason at this point.”

“Whaddya mean?”

He sighs, “Just be on the lookout for an angry lesbian, alright?”

You snort, drawing Steve’s attention. He twists in your hold, phone discarded on the table finally, fingers trailing tantalizingly up and down your sides. Pushes you back against the bed, chin resting on your sternum as you talk with Eddie, head tilted as he listens.

Begging off the phone call, you say your goodbyes. “Hey,” Eddie says before you go, voice soft and warm, “You happy babe? You sound it.”

“Yeah,” you turn your head and grin at the ridiculousness of your life. Steve follows your lips, his own blazing a trail across your chest and up to meet your shoulder. “I’m really happy, Eds.”

Steve plucks the phone from your hand, “Bye Munson!” He sings before ending the call and unceremoniously dropping your phone on the floor.

And Steve never thought a person was supposed to laugh so hard during sex, or maybe that’s just your own brand of love, but he doesn’t want to find out with anyone else.

It’s the fifth time, and Steve’s dick is about to fall off—how are you still doing this—just a few thrusts in when the banging on the door frightens the both of you into your clothes.

Robin swings it open and Steve is desperately tucking himself into his pants before—please, no.

“It smells like ass in here!” She hollers, “The hell have you two been—oh my god.”

“Shut up, Rob!” You respond from the corner of the room, head ripping through the neck hole of a shirt, legs wiggling into a pair shorts. Steve is still shirtless, hoping he might spontaneously combust.

“Oh my god,” Robin whispers again, “Oh… my god.” She sputters on the verge of either eruption or death.

“You freaky little—” she hisses, before screaming, “Oh fuck no! I’m here picking your asses up. Got on a flight at ass o'clock from Indy— you're butt-ass-naked in here—” She stands ram-rod straight, hands on her hips angrily. “I’m tellin’ on you.”

“Telling on?! What are you, five!? You’re so annoying, Rob!”

“Annoying? What’s annoying is—I’m exhausted! And well— you're exhausted too, huh?”

“I hate you.”

She snickers, high-fiving herself before crossing her arms, “Now get your freaky asses outside so I can go home and drink myself into forgetting I ever saw Harrington’s dick.”

You pat her on the shoulder, “It’s nice, huh?”

Robin dry-heaves, “Uh-uh. That’s enough. Go wash your damn hands.”

A few minutes later, Steve closes the door to the now-silent hotel room, damp with sweat and the lingering aroma of musk. Robin trots on ahead, leading the pair of you through the lobby and out into the dry desert heat.

His hand pulls at yours, reassuring and warm. A small smile blooms across your face and you allow yourself to revel in it for a moment: heading home with Steve, can't even bring yourself to be all that mad at Robin's antics.

Not when he turns back to check on you, all tan skin and that devastating smile. Tugs you closer as Robin flags down the Uber, lays his lips against yours, and kisses you with a sweetness only he could bring.

Oh yeah, you think tangling your free hand in his shirt. This'll do just fine.