#this has been bothering me for months dude

[shelfperson]

the most fucked up thing about the machine herald for me isn’t his inhuman proportions or his fucked up face or his claw it’s the fact that he has HAIR he has HUMAN HAIR he has VIKTOR’S ACTUAL HUMAN HAIR THE HAIR THAT VIKTOR HAS HAD SINCE HE WAS BORN he STILL HAS IT there are HAIR FOLLICLES COMING OUT OF WHATEVER TWISTED STRUCTURE HE CALLS A SKULL THAT IS THE LAST HUMAN PART OF HIM AND HIS HAIR ISN’T EVEN THAT LONG ON THE ASTRAL PLANE DOES IT STILL GROW OH MY GOD

[girlivealwaysbean]

.

[no-144444]

the grid: when they admit they love you!

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featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Charles LeClerc, Carlos Sainz, Arthur LeClerc, Ollie Bearman, Max Verstappen, Paul Aron, Jack Doohan.

this is 18+ so mdni please! smut in some of them!

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Oscar Piastri: fumbling and scared 

You sat at the reception of McLaren, and every single day he was terrified of making a fool of himself. You were the cool, pretty receptionist he’d already gone on 3 dates with, and this Friday he was going to ask you to officially be his girlfriend. The conversation between you two flowed easily when it was just you two, but with other people there… he was less than smooth. Your desk mate, the other receptionist had a knack for gossip, and she was kind of scary, she he tried to steer clear of her when he could. 

“Morning,” you smiled as he walked in the door. 

“Morning,” he smiled back, leaning on your desk. “How are you?”

You started signing him into the building (he ‘lost’ his access card months ago, aka he threw it away and didn’t try to get a new one, just so he could have some reason to talk to you). “I’m good, looking forward to Friday,” you smiled. “You?”

He beamed, grinning like a kid. “Me too.”

“Oscar!” Chris (the guy who has the biggest crush on you ever) clapped a hand on his back, much too hard. “Buddy, I got you a new access-card! Now you can stop bothering the pretty lady here, right?”

“Chris, it’s no bother, I do it every morning-” you tried to diffuse the situation. You didn’t exactly want Osccar to have to deal with Chris, he was such an asshole.  

“Yeah, but it’s one less thing off your plate baby,” he winked at you and Oscar felt something twist in his stomach when you grimaced at the pet name. 

“Don’t call her that,” he told him. “She has a name, it’s Y/n. Use her name.” 

“Dude, I know you wouldn’t get it, but some people date other people,” Chris chuckled like a scumbag. “And me and her are together, so back off.”

Oscar laughed. He actually laughed in your co-workers face. “You’re funny, man.”

Chris laughed along. “I know right.” 

Oscar took the access card from him, leaned over the desk and pressed his lips to yours, like he’d done many times before, and carried on to his meetings. Chris stood there shocked, then walked back to his desk like a wounded puppy. 

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Friday rolled around and you were both sat on his couch watching Cars, when he turned to you. “I’m sorry about Monday,” he admitted. “I know it wasn’t the right thing to do and it probably made it worse but I just-”

“It worked,” you told him. “He hasn’t spoken to me all week, but he has been trying to report you to HR for me, but every time he does I just tell them I didn’t make the claim and then report Chris for being weird. It worked perfectly. He’s such a dick,” you chuckled. 

He watched you as you chuckled, the way your nose scrunched, the flyaway hairs on your forehead framing your face, your soft lips, you gorgeous eyes. “I love you,” he said, softly, but you looked up with wide-eyes all the same. He’d shocked himself too. “OHmygodIamsosorryIknowit’swaytooearlyand-”

You just started laughing, literally falling into his lap. You laughed against his chest and after a moment, he joined you. 

“You’re such a dork,” you smiled brightly as you ran a hand through his hair, then gently caressed his cheek. “I love you too.”

He beamed. “Can I be your boyfriend?” 

You nodded, then kissed him gently. Cars and a pretty girl as his girlfriend? Could his Friday night get any better? 

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Lando Norris: sweet and sincere (for once)

He watched as you walked from the edge of the water into it, splashing around with Mila. It was your first Norris family holiday, and yeah, maybe he had lied to you and told you it would just be you two to trick you into meeting his family only 5 months into your relationship. Maybe you were super mad at him to the point of barely speaking to him unless in the group. But also, maybe Lando was watching the love of his life play with his niece, and maybe he didn’t care that he’ just called you that. 

“Lala!” Mila called, running up to him. “I really like Y/n, can we keep her?” 

You came up behind her, chuckling lightly at her statement. He stared at you for a moment. You were sunkissed (and a little sunburn on your nose), with a bright smile, wet hair and a beautiful blue swimsuit on. You looked ethereal to him. So stunningly gorgeous that he barely knew what to say. 

“Come on kiddo, let’s grab you a snack,” you picked back up your smile and started to walk over to his sister, sitting under another umbrella with all the snacks and drinks in the world. Lando just stared at you when Mila asked. You’d thought that him inviting you on a family holiday would mean something, you must’ve thought wrong. 

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As dinner rolled around, the conversation flowed smoothly as the sun set on the horizon. 

“I’m going to go for a walk on the beach front,” you told the table once meals were finished. They waved you off and off you went. The beautiful sea and stars in the sky caught your attention as your red dress flowed in the wind. It was magical, the warm air, the magnificent views, all of it. The sand beneath your feet was warming your feet and you stopped to look out on the ocean. The soothing, calm waves with the scent of salt made you smile. You’d always loved the beach. 

“You look beautiful,” Lando’s voice made you jump, and you searched for him until you realised he was right beside you. 

“Thank you,” you smiled softly. He wrapped a hand around your waist and turned you to face him. 

He’d been quiet at dinner, too busy trying to think of how to get you to talk to him again, and how he could finally confess his love for you. It was almost overwhelming, the fact that he was in love. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that it was a family trip,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You sighed. “It was pretty shitty…” you reminded him. “But I’ve been having fun with them. You come from good people. Makes sense.”

He smiled brightly at your compliment and pressed his forehead against yours. “Thank you for not leaving once you found out.”

You chuckled. “No problem.”

“I adore you,” he admitted. “More than anything. I fucking love you.”

Your eyes widened and you stood there with your jaw dropped. “Holy shit,” you cursed under your breath and he giggled. 

“You don’t have to say it back or anything, I just wanted to tell you,” he clarified, once he’d stopped laughing. 

You smiled at him, chuckling. “I love you too, Lando, of course I do. Even when you do stupid shit like invite me to a family holiday.” 

He laughed, burying his face in your neck. “I already said ‘I’m sorry’!”

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George Russell: of course…

He smiled as he crossed the finish line, finally  winning another race. 

“Well done George!” his engineer cheered, congratulating him as the garage erupted into celebrations. 

When he was finally out of the car, all interviews were over, and all that was left was to take a few team photos, he was given a moment to seek you out. You’d hugged you at the barricade, but since then he hadn’t seen you. You were busy signing things for fans, little girls who wanted to be ‘just like you’ one day. You smiled and told them they would be, that their dreams of being olympic gymnasts weren’t far-fetched. He smiled, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He was covered in champagne, and you groaned, making the small group of girls laugh. 

“George!” you groaned, pushing him off.

“What?” he smirked, pulling you back in. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, as the group of girls moved on with a giggle and a wave. “You look stunning.”

“You’re wet,” you dead-panned. “Congratulations, winner.”

He grinned. “I love you.”

You stared at him for a moment, a gentle disbelief in your eyes. “Really?”

“More than anything.”

“Not just because you're drunk on champagne?”

“Nope, I genuinely love you,” he chuckled. “Sorry,” he shrugged, unapologetic. 

You beamed, then kissed him. “I love you more.”

He shook his head. “Not possible.” 

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Kimi Antonelli: nervous 

He smiled as he opened the door to his apartment and found you on the other side. 

“Ready?” you asked, holding up a very big paint can, and some rollers. He had asked you to help him decorate his new apartment, in Monaco, and you’d thankfully agreed. You, his girlfriend / race engineer, had also just moved to Monaco, next door, in fact.

He let you in and you both began to set up the room, tarping the hardwood floors, taping off the skirting boards, and enjoying the soft music and sunny weather outside the window. You finally opened the paint and got to work. He thought you looked adorable, actually wearing paint-splattered overalls (courtesy of you repainting your entire apartment just a week ago), with a concentrated face. His eyes followed you across the room, meticulously taping every inch of the skirting board, making sure that none of the blue paint would ruin the white. 

“What?” you asked, looking back at him. 

He blushed and shook his head, finally understanding the emotions he felt for you everyday. He loved you. “Nothing.”

You raised an eyebrow and walked over, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. “You sure?”

He nodded, much too nervous to tell you. He looked away, pretending to be engrossed in messing with your pockets. 

You shrugged, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Alright,” you let go of him and walked back to the side of the room that you were working on. 

He’d tell you, one day. 

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Lewis Hamilton: smooth about it

He smirked as you walked out from your bedroom, clad in one of his shirts and some tiny sleep-shorts, excited about finally sitting down to watch the movie. It had been a difficult triple-header, and he hadn’t been around. But finally, the season was over, and he could invite you over to start enjoying the Christmas festivities. He loved this. He loved the casual, regular things you two did. He liked the way you cuddled up to him on the couch, he loved the way he knew you’d definitely fall asleep before the film ended, he loved you-

Oh.

He loved you. 

He chuckled and you looked at him confused. 

“You alright?” 

He chuckled. “All good baby,” he nodded, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“What was that about?” you questioned further, putting the remote down. He ran a hand through your hair, looking at you with all the love in the world. 

“Just love you,” he shrugged as your jaw dropped. He chuckled, watching a million emotions run through you. 

“You’re such a dick!” you playfully hit him on the shoulder. “I wanted to say it first!”

He laughed and pulled you into his arms, holding you closer. “I’m sorry baby.”

You scoffed. “No you’re not.”

He shook his head. “No I’m not.” 

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Alex Albon: oh… yah. 

He sighed as he opened the door to his driver’s room. He was exhausted, another race down, another weekend closer to the end of this. 

“Hey,” you smiled. 

His mood picked up, knowing you were there. His best friend. “Hey,” he smiled, pulling you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Surprise?” you shrugged. “I wanted to come see you.” 

He smiled, pressing his face into your neck inhaling the smell of your perfume, feeling much more at ease than he did before. “I thought you couldn’t make it today.”

“I did, but I won't be able to be in Qatar or Abu Dhabi,” you admitted, breaking the bad news. You could feel him frown. 

“Why not?”

“I'm busy for the next two weeks with work. Then I have the whole couples retreat thing and then-”

“Pardon? Couples retreat?”

“This guy I’m seeing is saying we should go, I think it’s a swinging thing though, I’m not exactly into it. But non refundable tickets and I would like a holiday before I have to deal with our families all Christmas,” you explained with a chuckle.

His world crumpled around him. “You’re seeing someone?”

You nodded. “Yeah, he’s… nice,” you smiled. “Don’t worry, you won’t be meeting him for a while, he’s not even my boyfriend yet-”

You stopped talking because he’d started kissing you. He hadn’t really connected the dots before. He liked how close your families were, he liked being your best friend, he liked being around you all the time. He liked being the person you’d come to about things. He didn’t like other people liking you. He’d been your personal bodyguard throughout your teenage years, and he had shooed off every guy, just because he was protecting you, right? It had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted both of you to wait and be each other's first kiss, like you’d promised when you were 10. 

Oh shit. He was in love with you. 

He pulled back with wide-eyes. “I’m in love with you.”

You broke out into a smile. “I love you too.”

He grinned like a little kid. 

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Franco Colapinto: shy? For once?

He froze as he heard your voice from behind. He hadn’t been home in months, too busy with racing to visit. But Christmas rolled around as it always did, and so did every single family friend. 

“Franco!” his mother’s voice rang out. “Come here!”

He turned and was met with your eyes. He felt himself blushing already.

“Y/n’s here!” she cheered. You offered a small wave and a smile, which he mirrored. 

“It’s good to see you again,” you  smiled. “Happy Holidays.”

He nodded. “You too.”

“How’s F1 going?”

“Good, well. I like it,” he scratched the back of his neck. 

“Well, we’ve all been cheering you on from here,” you smiled. “I can’t wait to see what you do next year.”

He smiled and nervously chuckled. “Thank you.”

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As he watched you over the coming days, enjoying your company, even when he wasn’t the centre of your attention, he found himself becoming even more shy, even more confused, and increasingly love-sick.

He just had to find a way to make himself tell you, easy, right? 

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Logan Sargeant: idek

Y’know how you’re told that when boys like you, they’ll bully you? That’s bullshit, they’re just bullies and their parents make excuses for them. 

You watched as Logan got into your car, getting ready to drive it, and you felt yourself tense up. You’d never gotten along with Logan, growing up in the same racing series, only you pivoted to Indycar and he went to F1. Now he was about to drive your car. You’d never been more nervous. You were the Indycar champion this year, the first women to do it, and you were proud. Giving your car over to Crash-Sargeant wasn’t exactly your choice, but you still had hope that he could drive it. 

You went up to him as he was about to get it, and grabbed his hand, holding him in place. “If you fucking car my car I will cut your balls off Sargeant. Don’t fuck with me, alright?” you whispered, getting close enough to feel his breath on your cheek. He smirked and nodded, ripping his hand out of your grasp.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He was already hearing wedding bells. Utterly and totally in love with you. 

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Daniel Riccardo: nothing like a big gesture, right?

He dropped you off outside departures, a sad smile on his face. “Don’t want you to go,” he sighed.

You rolled your eyes, then wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as his hands circled your waist. “What’re you doing today?”

“Stuff for Enchanté,” he explained. 

“That’s why you can’t come this weekend? Not up to being my WAG in Haas?” you smirked, pressing small kisses to his cheeks as you spoke. 

“God no, I only go there for Nico,” he smirked. “And you’re replacing him today.”

You rolled your eyes, letting god of him. “Fuck you!” you called after you, trying to suppress a smile. He watched as you walked off, shaking your head and he thought about everything. Every night he went to sleep with you in his arms, every morning he woke up beside you, every smile he saw, every laugh he made happen, every hug or kiss he got from you. He smiled, realising the truth. 

He loved you. 

Therefore he ran after you, making a huge scene in the airport. When he finally made it up to you, there were 2 security guards chasing him, so he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you harshly, a bright smile on his face. “I love you,” he smiled when he pulled away. 

“You’re going to get fucking arrested!” you stressed, wide-eyed and shocked at his behavior. 

“For being in love?”

“No, you idiot, for bypassing security and running through an airport without a ticket! Go back!” you pushed him off of you with an exasperated and amused smile.

“I love you!” he called after himself as he was taken away by the security guards. 

“I love you too, you fucking idiot!” you scoffed. “You have a phone, y’know!” 

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Liam Lawson: will NOT speak to you at any cost

Being in love with one of his mechanics probably wasn’t the greatest idea, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and his wanted you. 

“Liam can I-?” you started, but he just walked away, his eyes glued to the floor. You followed behind him, trying again and again to get his attention, but he continued ignoring you, and you'd had enough. “Fuck’s sake- Liam! Stop being such a dick! I don’t know if you just don’t respect me, or if you don’t like me, but I’m a mechanic on your time, and I'm asking if there’s anything you want us to change about your car to make you more comfortable. Just answer me that simple question and I promise I won’t bother you again all weekend!” 

He froze on the spot. “I’m in love with you-” he blurted out, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “The car is fine, sorry. Thanks.”

Then he walked off, leaving you in a stunned silence. 

What the fuck had he just done?

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Charles LeClerc: weirdly calm about it

You two sat on (one of)  his (many) yacht(s), overlooking the gorgeous Monaco bay. He had an arm around you, both of you dressed in comfortable clothes with nothing to do for the entire weekend. Oh, how he adored the off-season. You were too busy reading a book to notice the way he was looking at you. In the simple, silent moment it hit him suddenly that he was in fact, in love with you. And it didn’t scare him the way previous girlfriends confessing such things to him had. It felt right, completely normal, even. 

“Do you want anything?” you yawned. 

“Pardon?” he asked, too busy in his own world. 

“I’m ordering food, do you want something?” 

“I’m alright, but let me get it,” he offered and you scoffed.

“Fuck off Percvél. I can pay for my own food,” you chuckled, getting up and walking further into the boat. 

He chuckled, watching after you. 

Wow, he was mature. And, in love. 

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Carlos Sainz: definitely not freaking out

“I love you,” you confessed as the two of you cosied up at the beach. It had been a brilliant holiday, the two of you actually getting to spend some time together. 

He looked at you with wide-eyes. 

“Sorry if that was too soon, or too much. I just… wanted you to know. You don’t have to say anything back- of course.” 

While you were catastrophising, he was freaking out. You loved him. You told him you loved him. Holy shit. 

He stuttered for a moment, making you grimace. You’d fucked it up, definitely. There was no way he felt the same, right? You were probably just a 7 month long hook-up to him, right? 

“I love you too,” he smiled, then pressed his lips to yours.

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Arthur LeClerc: accidental

“Arthur is so whipped!” his friend laughed, watching as Arthur helped you set the table for dinner. Arthur just laughed, whereas, you frowned. Did Arthur think you were too clingy? Too demanding? Too much? 

Throughout dinner, you were pretty quiet, and you didn’t even let Arthur help you clean up. You went to bed early as he entertained the guests alone, and when he came to bed, there was a pillow between either sides of your bed. He frowned. 

“Baby,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around you and placing your head in the crook of his neck. “What is the problem?”

You sniffled. “It’s nothing,” you shook your head. “I’m sorry.”

He felt his heart warm when you held on to him, revelling in the fact that you would choose him to comfort you. “It’s just what-”

“Please don’t tell me you took to heart the comment Harry made?” he scoffed. You were quiet. “My love, I love you, I like helping you, I like being there for you, I like kissing and hugging you. If he has a problem with that then he can fuck off,” he chuckled, then stopped when he realised what he’d said. 

“You love me?” you sniffled, raising your head to look at him. 

He smiled. “Of course I do,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Always.” 

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Ollie Bearman: overwhelmed 

He smiled as he watched you dance on the dancefloor of the club. You looked so free and happy, smiling brightly with friends as the lights flashed and the music was loud enough to feel it in your entire body. 

“Dude, you two are so in love, it’s adorable,” Paul, his friend, pointed out. 

“I don’t- we’re not-”

“Haven’t said it yet?” Paul chuckled. “You should. I think she’d say it back.”

Ollie nodded, trying to pretend his entire world hadn’t been flipped upside down. You. Love. He wasn’t in love, right? All boyfriends wanted their girlfriends beside them at all times, right? All boyfriends missed their girlfriends so much that they flew them out to every race, right?  All boyfriends had begged their girlfriends to meet his parents, and vice versa only months into getting together, right?  All boyfriends felt suffocated when their girlfriends weren’t around, right? 

Oh shit, he was in love with you. He stepped outside to get some air.

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After a while of not seeing Ollie, you went outside to find him. You found him, leaning against the wall of the club, staring off into space. 

“Alright?” you asked, gently placing a hand on his cheek. 

He looked at you and smiled. “Alright,” he nodded, wrapping his hands around your waist. 

“Why’d you leave?” you asked. 

“Needed some air,” he admitted. It wasn’t untrue. 

“For 30 minutes?” you questioned and he knew he’d been caught. “Did Paul say something stupid? Need me to beat him up for you?” 

He chuckled, pulling you closer to him. “No, I’m alright. I was just… thinking.” 

“Dangerous pastime,” you teased and he chuckled. “What about?”

“You,” he confessed. 

“What about me?”

“I’m in love with you,” he answered nervously. 

“Oh yeah?” you smiled and he nodded. “Good thing I love you too.” 

Wow, Paul was right, for once. 

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Max Verstappen: strange man 

He watched from the other side of the plane as you played chess against his mother, bright smiles on both of your faces as the game progressed. He noticed the way your nose crinkled, the way your eyes shone, the comfortable position you sat in. He thought of every moment he got to share with you, and he almost teared up thinking of the best ones. He loved you. But he wouldn’t tell you, not yet. 

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He thrust into you, euphoria so close he could almost touch it. “Good girl, he groaned, feeling your nails in his back. “Taking me so well.” 

You just moaned against his skin, too cockdrunk to really notice what was going on around you. Max was a 4 time world champion. He’d done it. The first thing he’d wanted was to fuck you silly in his hotel room.

He was close, he slowed down his thrusts, much to your dismay, and slowly but firmly continued. 

“I,” thrust. “Love,” thrust. “You.” 

And he came inside you as you screamed into his shoulder, reaching your own peak. He hadn’t even meant to say it, it just came out (see what I did there? 😀). He stared down at you as you looked back up at him with wide eyes. 

“You love me?” you questioned. 

He nodded, his mouth dry. He was trying to focus on the softness of this moment, whilst also having to deal with your tight walls around his cock. Torture. 

“I love you too,” you smiled, flipping him over and straddling him. He groaned when he saw you on top of him and he was hard again. “Let me take care of you, yeah? My winner,” you smirked before starting to move on his cock. 

He was in for a long night. But a long night with the woman he loved. 

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Paul Aron: finally is a victim of humility 

“Paul, just tell her!” Ralf, his brother, argued. “She adores you, you’re in love with her, it’s alright!” 

“But… what if she doesn’t say it back?” He asked, much more insecure than he meant it to sound. He wasn’t used to being unsure when it came to romance. Paul had always been the type of guy to get any girl he wanted, with you it had been different. You’d hated his guts. He had to prove to you he was a good guy, then you’d finally gone out with him, and fast forward a year, he was trying to figure out how to tell you he loved you. He’d only realised it last night, when you were waiting in his apartment with dinner made for the two of you for the simple reason ‘just because’. In that moment he’d wrapped his arms around you and kissed you to stop himself from ruining the night and confessing right then and there. 

Ralf groaned. “You are impossible!” 

When did love become so complicated?

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Jack Doohan: so not casual 

Jack watched as you wiped out in the waves once again, a giggle on his lips. As you resurfaced, he saw the panic in your eyes and he swam over, his body taking over before his brain could say anything. 

“You alright?” he called, swimming over to you. You shook your head wildly, tears forming in your eyes. 

“M-my leg,” you whimpered out, trying to keep yourself above water. He grabbed your waist and held you bridal-style so he could swim back to shore, signalling to the lifeguards as finally got you to shore. He saw the issue when you two were out of the water, a huge gash on your left leg, so bad you could see the bone. The cracked bone.

What ensued for the next 9 hours was a flurry of an ambulance, hospital rooms, and surgery, but the only constant was Jack. he stayed there the entire time, and he was there when you woke up. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when your eyes opened. “Hey baby,” he smiled, easy as ever despite the worry he’d been under extreme stress all day. “You’re awake.”

You nodded, taking his hand. “I’m so sorry about today-”

“Don’t apologise. We all get hurt sometimes, it’s alright,” he reassured you. “Plus, it’s not like I can be mad at you.”

“Why not?” you asked. 

“Because I love you,” he shrugged. He’d realised in the 9 hours of  stress that he wouldn’t go to this extent for anyone else, and that he must be insane or in love (which were probably the same thing) to somehow be blindsighted into bringing you to the most dangerous part of the beach for surfing (we was persuaded by you kissing him lots) and then bringing you to the ER and staying with you the entire time. So, he chose the love one, it sounded better. 

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[libraford]

Park Cleanup Pet Peeves

I'll be starting my seasonal gig at Parks and Rec in a couple months and I've got a couple things I wanna say. I know that this will probably not reach the people who need to hear it, but if ONE LESS person leaves the parks a mess, I will be That Much Happier.

-You're not supposed to smoke, drink, or have sex in public parks but I know that people will anyway. But if you are going to do those things, please dispose of the evidence in the trash cans. A human has to pick these things up.

-Dog poop goes in a bag. Bag goes in the trash can.

-The little wax paper liners in the women's room? See you're supposed to put your pad/tampon in that wax paper bag, take the bag out of the bin, and then dispose of it in the actual trash can. Don't feel bad, no one told me either. Also no one told the dudes I work with. But this reduces direct exposure to bodily fluids, especially as the summer gets on and it gets hot in those bathrooms.

-On that subject! The little bins that they go in next to the toilet? Don't stick trash in there. Don't put diapers in there. Also don't put beer cans crushed in such a specific way that I slice my hand on them as I try to jimmy it out of there. Literally, that bin is too small for most things. They are meant specifically for those brown bags. Please for the love of god, throw things in the trash can.

-As for the urinals, please no solids. Most commonly gum and chewed tobacco, but you can use your imagination.

-If you're doing a photo shoot or an event with confetti, please use a paper confetti instead of a plastic one- its easier to get rid of.

-If you're doing a pizza party, we'd rather you stack the pizza boxes in a pile next to the trash can instead of trying to fit them in the trash. Because then we can just throw the trash bag over the top and tie it instead of trying to fish it out. This kind of goes for any big trash- if it won't fit in the trash can easily, don't try.

-Please don't call cops on people sleeping in the parks if they're not bothering anyone. Even if they've been sleeping there all day. Dude's just trying to chill.

-Destruction of the toilets will result in the indefinite locking of the restrooms. You ruined them and now everyone at the softball tournament can blame you for it.

-Parks people are not the police. We are maintenance workers who are not trained to handle most emergencies and the most we can do in any situation is report to the proper department. Please don't look to us for answers if someone is starting a fight.

-Also please don't spit on us for driving on the path. We're permitted to. Its essential for us to drive on the path to do our job.

-please don't abandon animals at the park. Rehome them properly. I spent a whole week trying to catch a rooster last summer.

-look, I get it- 'oh no, your pretty building has writing on it!' Grafitti is so edgy. We get it. But it means Jacob has to sand it off now so that the kids at the birthday party don't see a giant drawing of a weiner. Acts of rebellion that create more work for the working class are not revolutionary.

-please do not set fire to the Tiny Free Library. Why did you do that? That's mean.

-please do not feed bread to ducks and geese. Corn, birdseed, lettuce- those are better for them. If you want to reduce tge amount of goose poop in the parks, shop feeding them bread.

-also do not anger tge geese. They remember what its like to be dinosaurs.

I'll have more later, probably, once the season wears on.

[lovphobic]

having a fit because i cant remember when i started watching the show all i can find is:

i got netflix apr29. nd then on may 9 i made a post saying that i finished s1 "like 2 days ago" and if i remember right it took me close to a week???? apr30/may1 origin story???

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny goes on Vacation and leaves his job to his Co-workers

So! Danny hasn't had a break from his Hero Career since the day he turned into a Ghost. He has been constantly fighting battle after battle against his worst enemies one after the other.

Even after joining the Justice League, he didn't really have a chance to take a break. He never really asked for help because it didn't seem like a big enough deal to bother them with. He just kept on working.

Until the day he accidently mentioned this to one of his Co-workers, and they practically Force him to take a Vacation.

He has been fighting Crime, nearly every single day since he was 14, with at most a day or two in between battles for all that time, and he is now entering his 20's. They are horrified that he never asked them for help, no matter how easy the job may have been.

After a while of convincing him, they eventually get him to agree to tale a Month-Long Vacation.

He actually gets really excited after he agrees, and he is planning on exploring deep space for the entire month. He is actually really looking forwards to it now, and seeing this everyone who volunteered to take over his Patrols all promise that they will absolutely not bother him until the trip is done.

So, Danny leaves for his Vacation and the other Heroes set up shop in Amity Park.

Danny left them instructions on how to deal with Ghosts, how to pacify specific Rogues, and how to sent them back to the Ghost Zone when they are done. They feel like they are fairly well prepared for their Month Long Mission, especially since Danny described it as a very easy job.

Then the first Rogue Attack happened.

The team dispatched there, made up of a few mid-level JLA Members and some JLD Members for safe measure, takes nearly an Hour to defeat the Ghost. And they barely manage it.

They are surprised at how hard it is, but are even more surprised when they find out that the "Box Ghost" is labeled as a Low-Level Nuisance.

So, they call in a few higher level members to help. They do not want to interrupt Danny's Vacation.

Then they have to call in more JLA members, and again, and again.

By the time Danny managed to get back from his Vacation, the Founding Members and all JLD have been called in.

He thanks then for the opportunity to finally have a break.

Danny: Seriously, thanks guys. This was the best break I've had in years.

JLA: *out of breath and haggard* yeah dude...no problem...let me just sit down for a minute...whew!

Danny: Oh, I can't wait for the next time I can go on vacation!

JLA: *looking like this: 😐* ...yeah sure bro...

[headkiss]

it’s christmas (this is gonna be a nightmare)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve puts a little too much pressure on himself to make this holiday a magical one. or: 4 times steve messes up your first christmas together, +1 time it's perfect.

word count: 7.4k

content: established relationship, one injury (no blood!), some kisses, a lot of steve's thoughts, and a love confession <3 fluff all around!!!

a/n: a full length fic!! it's a christmas miracle!! thank you to the anon who sent the ask that inspired this fic and to all of u for being here. i love u, happy holidays <3

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Steve Harrington doesn’t know too much about what exactly a perfect Christmas looks like. He has his parents to thank for that.

What he does know is that this year has to be just that: perfect. Because this year he has you.

Though you went to high school together, you and Steve properly met in the summer. Right at the beginning of it, where the evenings still have a chill of wind but the sun cuts through it with welcomed warmth. Robin convinced him to take her to the flower shop just outside of town, and you’d been behind the counter to greet them.

Robin recognized you, and she chatted your ear off while you helped her pick a bouquet with the sweetest smile Steve had ever seen and he felt like an absolute moron for never having noticed you before at school. But he noticed you then.

He’d forced Robin to wait for him in the car while he stayed back, bought you your own bouquet of flowers from the store as if you weren’t the one who’d made them, and asked you on a date. Steve fumbled the whole way through, pricking himself with a rose thorn and cussing mid-sentence, but you still said yes.

You’ve been together ever since, and Steve feels incredibly lucky for it. Lucky for how kind you are, how well you fit in with his friends, how much the kids (Max, especially, though he won’t call her out on it) like you. Lucky for being allowed to grab your hand, to kiss you whenever he wants.

And, on the nights you stay over that grow more frequent with each month, lucky to have you fill the space in the Harrington home that usually feels so cold and empty.

So, maybe the holidays make him extra sentimental, maybe he cares a little too much about making sure it’s the best damn Christmas you could have. Maybe, for once, he’s actually looking forward to it all.

Robin startles him into the present — leaning on the counter at Family Video — with a stiff poke to the cheek. “Dude, I can literally tell you’re thinking about her by the look on your face. It’s kinda gross.”

He scoffs at her, even though he probably was making a face. “Sounds like jealousy to me, Buckley.”

“Shut up, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know each other! I deserve compensation.”

Steve hangs his head dramatically. Robin is never letting that go. Ever.

“My friendship isn’t enough for you?” Steve says, placing a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

“You annoy me,” she says, flicking his arm.

“Ow- whatever. You’ll be free of me in like five minutes.”

Steve checks his watch just to be sure. Robin’s closing by herself today, and while Steve would normally just stay and bother her anyways, he’s got plans that involve you and takeout and napping together on his couch.

As if the thought conjures it, you walk through the door, the bell jingling cheerily above your head, Steve’s car keys dangling from your fingertips. (Yes, he lets you drive the BMW.)

“Thank God,” Robin says when she sees it’s you. “Please get rid of him, he’s getting on my nerves.”

You smile and walk towards Steve, who immediately tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you in close, stamping a kiss to the side of your head.

You turn your head to the side and look at him, “What did you do?”

Steve gasps, “Me? Honey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

You send him a wink, and Steve grins. He fucking loves having you with him, being able to speak without speaking. Your hand grabbing his and squeezing says I missed you, his squeezing back says me too.

“Okay, please remove your public displays of affection from the store and leave me alone with the overplayed Christmas song radio station, thank you.” Robin announces.

“Don’t miss me too much, Robs. I know it’ll be tough,” Steve says, guiding you forward.

“Good to see you, Robin!” you wave on your way out.

“You too!” And just before the door closes behind you, Robin’s voice rings out; “You’re my favourite half of the relationship!”

Your smile widens. Steve is the best thing that’s happened to you, and his friends becoming yours is one of the greatest bonuses you could ask for. It’s like his life made room for you as simply as the ocean’s tide pulls in and out. Gentle and certain.

He catches the keys when you toss them to him, and Steve’s mood just seems to lift and lift on the drive back to his place with you in the passenger seat, Christmas lights lining the streets glowing on your cheeks.

Yeah, he thinks, this Christmas is going to be perfect.

-

1.

That weekend Steve calls you and tells you to be ready by noon and to dress warmly. He doesn’t tell you much else besides his usual ‘see you soon, honey’ or ‘miss you’ murmured sweetly through the phone.

As instructed, you’re dressed in a pair of jeans and one of your favourite knitted sweaters, your brown leather jacket overtop and socked feet stuffed into your Doc Martens. Though you feel plenty warm, Steve will probably fuss over you and hold you close for body heat anyways. And, well, you’d never be opposed to that.

Steve’s BMW rolls into your driveway exactly one minute past twelve, and by the time you walk outside to meet him, he’s already standing on the passenger side of the car waiting to open the door for you.

“Always a gentleman,” you say, kissing him quickly on the cheek.

You slide into the seat that’s become yours for the most part, and Steve ducks down to kiss you properly on the mouth before pulling back, “Mm maybe not always.”

He closes your door and you laugh lightly, your face a little warm even though he’s been your boyfriend for months now. You don’t think you’ll ever be unaffected by Steve Harrington’s charm, ever be used to it being aimed at you.

Of course, you knew of him in school, but knowing the real thing, the kind, caring boy who’d been buried under King Steve back then, is probably the greatest gift you’ve ever had.

Steve drives with one hand just above your knee, his thumb running back and forth over the stitching in your jeans. Still, he doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you, his only hint was to “pay attention to the radio station.”

It’s playing Christmas music. Like that narrows things down a whole bunch.

You chat the entire way. Steve asks you how the flower shop is doing (“Poinsettias are flying off the shelves”), you ask him who he got for the group’s secret Santa this year (“Max. I’m going to need your assistance”). It’s so easy to talk to him, to laugh and joke and not have to worry about what you say or how you come off.

You never knew being with someone could be so easy until Steve.

Eventually, he pulls into the long driveway of a farm. A Christmas tree farm, to be exact, if the wooden arch you drive through is to be trusted.

“What are you planning, Harrington?”

He shrugs, his hand squeezing your knee, “Thought we could pick out a tree together. Put it up at the house. My parents aren’t gonna be around — shocker, I know — I figured we’d do it together. Make it our own.”

Steve pats your leg before letting it go and putting the car in park, his palms dragging over his thighs like he’s suddenly nervous.

“Our first Christmas tree,” you say quietly, almost to yourself, a smile creeping onto your face. He really is sweet. “I love it. Let’s go adopt a tree, Stevie.”

He flashes you a smile before getting out and jogging around the hood to open your door for you. You’ve learned to wait for him to do it since you’ve been together. The last time you tried to open your own door he made you close it again just so he could be the one to open it.

Before, you’d never really cared about that sort of thing, but Steve has single-handedly raised your expectations.

He grabs your hand and leads you towards the classic red and white barn, following the signs painted simply with a tree and an arrow pointing you in that direction.

When you turn the corner and see the selection of trees, however, Steve pauses.

There are maybe seven trees left, none of which are very impressive upon first glance. Their branches are skinny and the pine needles leave a lot of space to see through them. It’s safe to say these aren’t the Christmas trees Steve was hoping to surprise you with.

He was sure there’d be something better left, at least. And he’d been wrong. Minus a point on that perfect Christmas, he supposes.

Still, he walks you to the selection, the farm’s employee greeting the two of you as you walk up; “Hey y’all. Good afternoon!”

“Hey man,” Steve starts, “you wouldn’t happen to have any more trees left, would you?”

“Sorry folks, this is all we’ve got. Most people like to get ‘em early.”

Steve’s hope dwindles, and you can see him deflate a little bit.

You, however, don’t mind one bit. You tug on his arm to get his attention, and Steve turns to look at you, brown eyes shining like honey in the sunlight. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “Even the little trees need homes, right?”

He shakes his head with a small smile. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you tend to talk about plants as if they have feelings. You do it when you tell him about the flowers you sell, too.

“Right as usual, honey,” he decides. “Pick your favorites.”

So, you wind up with two small Christmas trees rather than one full one, and there’s a small victory in it when you and Steve strap them both to the top of the BMW without too much of a struggle.

Another victory when you sing along to ‘Last Christmas’ and hold out your fist as if there’s a microphone in your grip to get him to join you. Admittedly, it isn’t a very good rendition, but Steve loves it all the same.

You have a way of turning things around for him, even without knowing it.

When you get back to Steve’s, he brings both of the trees inside and sets them up before bringing down the bins of ornaments and lights from the attic. He only shouted once when a spider crawled over his hand.

Having two trees makes it easy to turn decorating into a lighthearted competition. You both claim one as your own and decorate them with string lights and tinsel and ornaments. Steve’s mom would probably have an aneurysm seeing them used so haphazardly.

Though by the end, your tree is definitely prettier, Steve still feels like he’s won something as you lean your back against his chest and his arms cross over your own, keeping you there.

As a kid, he wasn’t even allowed to do the decorating. Mrs. Harrington had to make everything look picture perfect, and Steve’s hands didn’t help with that. Not according to her.

Today couldn’t feel more different from those memories of his childhood.

“Yours is better,” he tells you, chin perched on your shoulder, his voice low in your ear.

Objectively, it probably is better (your prior experience with arranging plants was an advantage), but you don’t actually care about that.

Today felt like a little glimpse into the future you and Steve could have. It’s easy to picture it: your own apartment, buying decorations you both actually like, setting it all up together every year.

“I think they’re both brilliant,” you say.

And while today wasn’t what he was picturing, wasn’t what he’d hoped for with his ideal holiday in mind, Steve finds that he can certainly live with that. Your adorable little clap when you’d finished decorating was enough to cement it.

It’s only one thing. He’s got plenty of chances to be perfect later, he guesses.

Steve dips his head and kisses the top of your shoulder over your sweater.

-

2.

You stay over at Steve’s that weekend. You’re both off work, and you find yourself spending your days (and nights) off with Steve more and more.

In the morning, you blink your eyes open slowly, naturally. No alarm set, your boy wrapped around you. It’s how you’ll spend every morning someday.

The sunlight sneaks through a crack in the curtains, cutting a line across Steve’s blue bedding. You squint at it, shifting onto your back gently. Steve’s arm remains slung over your waist as you move, his knee against your leg. You roll your head to the side to look at him, a smile creeping over your mouth at the way his cheek is smushed into the pillow, his lips pouting and hair a mess over his forehead.

Mornings have easily become your favorite time to spend with Steve. He’s cuddling you in some way every single time without fail, even when he wakes up. His voice is all low and gravelly from sleep and it feels like an honor to get to be the one to hear it like that. Usually, you spend an hour in bed with him after waking up. Laying together, talking, kissing. Sometimes (often) more.

You’d stay put right now if you didn’t have to pee so bad.

Slipping out of bed without Steve noticing proves a challenge, his arm tightens over you in his sleep, his brows scrunching. You whisper a soft “I’ll be right back.” He mumbles something incoherent, but his arm relaxes and you’re able to sneak away.

On your way back from the bathroom, you pause and take a peek out the window. You gasp happily at what you see: snow. A bright, white layer blanketing the ground sparkling in the sunlight.

You turn back to the bed and let yourself fall to it with a bounce, earning another grumbled protest from Steve, but there’s no way you’re going back to sleep now. You trail a hand up his arm to his shoulder, giving it a small shake, “Stevie, wake up.”

“Hm?” his eyes scrunch before opening. “What happened, honey?”

“It snowed!”

“Yeah?” he huffs a laugh at your excitement, his hand searching for yours in the sheets.

“Yeah, and it’s so pretty. We should go out before it melts.”

“It’s winter, sweetheart. Not gonna melt that fast.”

“Steve.”

“Okay, okay,” his hand leaves yours in favor of wrapping itself around you again, and he uses it to tug you close again. “Just five more minutes.”

His nose is pressed to the top of your head, and he breathes you in, smiling to himself. Mornings are Steve’s favorite, too. Only when they’re spent with you.

Secretly, he’s also happy about the snow. He was hoping mother nature would be on his side so that he could check yet another holiday item off his list with you. Hopefully one that will turn out nicer than the tiny trees you’d ended up with.

It’s definitely more than five minutes by the time you get Steve to get up and out of bed. You attempt to get him outside right away. He stops you with a: “No snow-related activities on an empty stomach!”

So, it’s a rushed breakfast of bagels and coffee provided by Steve, and then you’re gearing up and heading into the back yard.

The cold bites at your cheeks, and the tip of Steve’s nose is pink within minutes, but you love it.

There’s a snowman built together, snow angels made that get ruined when Steve rolls himself on top of you and steals a kiss or five. Naturally, all there is left to do is have a snowball fight.

You start it when you’re still on the ground, a hand sneaking into the snow to grab a handful and pressing it to the back of Steve’s head. He gasps, and you take the opportunity to push him to the side and get up.

“No fair!” he calls. “I was distracted and you went for the hair.”

“Your fault for not wearing a hat, babe,” you laugh.

“Oh, you won’t be laughing for long, honey. You’re in for it.”

And just like that, you’re running around like kids in a schoolyard, hiding behind trees, slugging snowballs at each other and cheering when you manage to not miss.

Steve silently thanks mother nature or the universe or whatever made it snow for the wide smile on your face, your eyes shining with mirth.

At one point, you’re suddenly distracted by something in the trees, and the snowball is out of Steve’s hand before he sees you start to look towards him again.

It hits you square in the face.

A quick “Ow” comes out of your mouth, though it really doesn’t hurt that bad. Your first reaction is just to let it slip, but Steve’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Shit, honey.” He runs over to you and cups your face in his hands, his mittens soft against your skin as he brushes the snow from your face. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to get you in the face.”

Minus another point, for sure. Perfect Christmas: -2.

“I know, don’t worry,” you tell him, because he clearly is worrying.

“You okay?” he checks. He literally winces when you sniffle, frowns when he sees the way your eyes water. “Honey. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, Steve, I’m fine,” you reach up and grab his wrists, squeezing them over his jacket. “I’m only crying ‘cause it got my nose. It doesn’t actually hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “Didn’t you used to play sports in school? Thought athletes had better aim.”

“I was a swimmer, baby. No projectiles involved.” He smiles softly when you laugh, but he can’t stop himself from asking one more time. “You’re really not hurt?”

“It’s just a bit of snow, Stevie.”

His eyes run over your face anyway before he nods. Then, he dips forwards and lightly kisses your cheek, the other, the tip of your nose, and your mouth.

“Well now I’m certainly all better,” you say against his lips.

Steve pulls back but doesn’t go far. “I think this snowball fight is over.”

“Buzzkill,” you tease.

He bends down and picks up a handful of snow before shoving it in his own face.

“Steve!” you laugh.

“There, now we’re even,” he says, snowflakes clinging to his lashes.

You let him lead you inside after that, his arm draping over your shoulders, yours hugging his middle as you walk across the yard.

Once you’ve both shed your layers of coats and boots and hats and mittens, Steve takes you upstairs and runs you a bath to warm you up. He apologizes another two times when he looks at your face for too long, and you have to kiss him to stop him uttering another ‘sorry.’

Hell, if it’s gonna make him this sweet on you, you’d probably take a snowball to the face any day.

Eventually, when the bathtub is full, a layer of bubbles over the surface, you coax Steve into joining you. He leans against the side with you between his knees, back settling into its home against his chest, his chin resting atop your head.

Steve runs his hands over your shoulders, presses kisses into your hair. All along he’s reminding himself that the next thing will go right. He won’t be throwing anything, at least.

-

3.

The next weekend Steve calls you again. He asks you to be ready in the evening this time, but still keeps things vague other than the fact that you’ll be outside and need thick socks.

You have a pretty good idea of what he has in mind, but he’d called it a ‘redemption date’ over the phone and even though you truly don’t think he has anything to redeem himself for, you don’t want to spoil his plans, so you play along.

He comes to the front door when he picks you up this time, knocking gently as if you hadn’t been waiting for him by the windows.

“Hi, honey,” he drops a quick kiss to your lips, “had to come and approve your outfit. Don’t want you getting cold and stealing my jacket again.”

He’s lying, really. Steve fucking loves draping his own jacket over your shoulders and seeing you pull it tighter around you. When that happens, he braves the cold, but he figures that probably won’t be smart for spending hours outside.

“Aww, but yours is so much warmer than mine,” you pout jokingly.

Steve simply grabs your thickest jacket from a hook by the door and holds it out for you to slip your arms into.

As suspected, he drives you to a skating rink. He chose one a town over from Hawkins, where they have twinkle lights strung above the rink and rainbow Christmas lights lining the boards. Steve smiles when you gasp lightly in delight at the sight of it. The brightness cutting through the already dark night sky.

Steve guides you over to the skate rental booth first, bumping his hip into yours when you attempt to pay for the rentals. “As if. My idea, my wallet.”

“You don’t even let me pay when it’s my idea, either.”

“Well, that’s just chivalry, babe.”

You roll your eyes at him and thank the man behind the booth when he hands you both your skates. As you walk towards the lockers and cubbies set up nearby, you lean up and kiss Steve’s cheek, his light stubble scratching your lips.

“Thank you for this,” you say.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he tells you. “Though I should warn you that I’m not very good at this.”

“What? You, not good at something? Please.”

“No, seriously. I’m like bambi on ice.”

You laugh and shove his shoulder weakly, “Don’t worry. I’m probably even worse.”

Steve grins. So far, so good. This one will be perfect. Well, as perfect as it can be considering his skating skills.

You sit on one of the benches and Steve puts both of your shoes in one of the cubbies. He ties his own skates first before kneeling in front of you to help you with yours. He knows how to tie them, at the very least.

He helps you slip your feet into the skates first, then tightens the laces on one before peering up at you and checking, “Feel okay? Not too tight?”

“It’s good, Steve. I feel like Cinderella.”

“A perfect fit! She must be the one!”

“Dork.”

“That’s prince dork to you.”

Steve finishes up with your skates, squeezing your ankle before setting your foot down and standing back up.

On the ice, neither of you are very graceful. You hold onto the boards most of the time, and Steve stumbles and nearly falls every few strides, but you’re laughing and having fun, so who cares?

So what if you get lapped by multiple people on the rink, including children? So what if you get some side eyes for being too slow or in the way? Neither of you can bring yourselves to be bothered.

Best of all, Steve keeps a hold on your hand the entire time. He literally saves you from falling with his grip on your hand squeezing and pulling you up straight.

However, your hands being clasped also means that, inevitably, when one of you goes down, you both do.

It happens after a decent amount of laps; your toe pick catches on a dip in the ice and it’s all it takes for you to lose your balance. Steve somehow twists himself to catch the brunt of your fall.

He expected that to come with some pain, a couple bruises, maybe. Instead, his wrist twists painfully against the ice as he falls, as if he’d tried to catch himself with it, and he can’t help the hiss of pain that comes out when he lands.

“You okay, honey?” he asks you.

“Of course I am. I landed on you, Stevie. Are you okay?”

He tests his wrist out by flexing it, wiggling his fingers, and he tries to hide it but he winces when he does, a sharp pain shooting up his arm. “M’fine.”

“Bullshit, I saw that wince, Harrington.” You manage to get back up on your feet and hold out a hand for him to grab, “Up, I’m taking you to the ER.”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Steve.”

“Baby.”

“Come on, you don’t want to make it worse, do you?” you urge him. “Plus, I’ll only keep worrying and bugging you about it until you let me take you to the doctor. Your wrist is already swelling, babe.”

Mostly because he doesn’t like the thought of you worrying about him, Steve agrees.

When both of your skates are off (your doing, this time) and given back to the booth, you reach into Steve’s coat pocket and grab the keys to the BMW. He doesn’t protest, and that alone tells you he must be hurting more than he’s letting on. You even manage to open your own door for once.

Steve’s quiet on the drive to the hospital, his hand resting limply on his leg. His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut every so often when a burst of pain comes. You do your best to avoid any pot holes or bumps along the way.

Once there, you make him sit in one of the waiting room chairs, “I’ll get the check in forms and everything. Stay put, yeah?”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, trying to joke. His voice wobbles a tiny bit, though.

It’s at least an hour of waiting before someone can see him (and that’s including your many pesterings to the front desk). You don’t mean to be a bother, but you’ve never seen Steve injured in any serious capacity, and it’s messing with your head.

He took the weight of that fall to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. The way he pays attention to things like that is one of the many reasons you love him.

You love him. You haven’t said the words to each other yet, but you’ve felt them for a long time already. It’s hard not to love Steve Harrington.

Finally, the doctor takes him back, and you follow. After an x-ray and some prodding, he determines that it’s a sprained wrist and that he should keep it wrapped for a few weeks to make sure it heals. They give him a prescription for some mild painkillers, too, for the first couple of days.

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing it isn’t broken, but Steve’s shoulders are still slumped.

He’s in pain, sure, his wrist now wrapped up in a tensor bandage, but really he feels defeated at messing yet another thing up. Third strike.

Steve lets you guide him back to the car and drive back to his place. You’ve decided you’re staying the night to take care of him, and as much as he hates looking weak or feeling useless, he’s glad to have you around.

You dote on him back at home, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer after making sure he’s settled on the couch, throwing a frozen pizza in the oven, bringing him meds and water.

“Honey, it’s just a sprain. Please stop fussing and sit with me.”

His brown eyes shine a little, and you could never say no to him when he looks at you like that.

You sit beside him and he drops his head to your shoulder, your hand coming up to play with the strands at the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp gently. His uninjured hand rests on your thigh and squeezes.

“Best painkiller ever,” he says.

-

4.

Steve has convinced himself that nothing could possibly go wrong this time around.

His plans for today involve staying at home, just you and him, no outside forces to deal with or avoid. So much less potential for failure. That’s what he thinks, at least.

Steve knows nearly every piece of you, so, obviously he knows you like to bake. You’d made him a cake for his birthday, and every so often you bring him other treats from home. Naturally, that meant that there was no way he was leaving out Christmas baking.

He’d considered doing gingerbread houses, and then remembered that the last time he tried that in a competition with the kids, his house was nothing more than a messy pile of gingerbread slabs. One with a bite taken out of it.

So, considering his past failures this holiday season, he’d settled on something that he thinks — hopes — is really hard to mess up: sugar cookies.

His mother’s collection of cookbooks had never been used for more than decoration until now. Steve searched through them until he found a recipe, wrote down the ingredients, and bought them at the grocery store to make sure he had everything.

In school, he never did much studying, but he reread the hell out of that recipe in order to get at least this one thing right.

The tensor bandage is still wrapped around his wrist, which is fucking annoying, really. He has to adjust it every day, and it’s hard to do with a single hand. He much prefers when you do it for him, sealing it with a featherlight kiss.

Worse, the thing still hurts, and you refused to let him drive and put more strain on it than necessary, so you took the bus and walked the rest of the way to his house.

He’s got all of the ingredients and tools laid out on the island when you ring the doorbell. “Hurry up, Harrington, it’s freezing!”

Hurry he does. He lets you in and helps you unwrap yourself from your bundle of a scarf and hat and mittens and jacket. Steve dips in to kiss your cheek, your skin cold against his lips. “Wouldn’t have to freeze if you let me come get you.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself for no reason, I’m fine,” you grab his uninjured hand and kiss the pads of his fingers, “and I like these hands.”

He smiles at your words, smug, “Yeah, I know you do, honey.”

You shake your head at him, but you’re smiling all the same, “I take it back. Your ego is getting too big.”

“Nooo, it’s just the right size,” he winks.

“Don’t you have plans, Steve?” you ask, changing the subject. “Getting a little off track, aren’t we?”

“Later, then,” he says, taking your hand with his good one and leading you to the kitchen.

You pause at the entryway of the kitchen, scanning over the things on the island, two aprons Steve must’ve dug up from somewhere hanging from the knobs of the cabinets.

“Tada,” he says, “we’re making cookies.”

“This might be my favourite one yet, Stevie.” You walk over and grab one of the aprons, leaving the other (a pink floral number) for Steve. “I’m in charge, though.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, taking the other apron without a complaint. “This is your kitchen today, chef.”

“Mm. That has a nice ring to it.”

“Chef honey,” he says, planting a kiss where your neck meets your shoulder, breath warm even through your shirt.

You get started after that. Predictably, you make a mess with flour on the island and mixing bowls strewn about the surface. You get distracted with a bit of a flour war somewhere in there, Steve smudging it onto your cheek, you onto the tip of his nose.

When it’s time to roll out the dough and cut out the cookies, Steve grabs a handful of cookie cutters from one of the drawers, setting them onto the counter with a small clang. They’re all holiday themed. Candy canes and snowmen and Christmas trees.

“Someone’s prepared,” you say, bumping your hip against his.

“I run a serious establishment here, baby.”

“I thought I was in charge.”

Soon enough, after sneaking bites of raw cookie dough and cutting out as many cookies as you could manage, they’re placed into the oven, the timer set.

You end up in the living room, a random channel playing on the TV while the cookies bake. It starts innocently enough, just sitting next to each other, shoulders and thighs pressed together.

Then, Steve’s good hand wanders, starting above your knee and moving up and up until he’s squeezing the top of your thigh, tracing patterns with his thumb. When he speaks a husky, “Come closer?” how could you ever say no?

So, somehow, you’ve ended up straddling Steve’s lap, his injured hand resting loosely on your waist, the other pressed in between your shoulder blades to keep you close. Yours are in his hair, running through the strands, tugging even.

It grows heated fast, and all of a sudden you’re making out like a pair of teenagers, Steve urging you to press further down in his lap, to writhe there while his mouth works yours until it’s all you can think about. All you can feel.

The room feels warmer, Steve’s jeans tighter over his lap, your chest bumping against his, hearts racing. Even just kissing him feels better than anything you’ve ever had in the past.

He kisses you like he’s starved everytime, sometimes a ravenous hunger, like now, or, when he’s gentler, something tender and soft. A sweet tooth.

The cookies are long forgotten. The timer sounds and nobody hears it. You would keep going forever, if you could. But then there’s the smell that hits your nostrils. The smell of something burning.

“Steve?” you say against his mouth.

“Uh-huh?” he breathes.

“Do you smell that?”

He pulls back, and it’s immediately after you say the words that the alarm goes off, piercing through the air, killing the mood, much to your dismay. Even more to Steve’s.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You’re both rushing to the kitchen then. You, fumbling off his lap, him beating you to the kitchen and frantically taking the baking sheet out of the oven and turning the thing off. You grab a towel from the counter and start fanning beneath the alarm to get it to go off, and when the cookies are dealt with, Steve joins the efforts.

Eventually the thing stops beeping, and you both rest your arms. The room still looks a little cloudy, the cookies black at the edges.

Steve doesn’t say anything, only rests his elbows on the island and slumps his head, defeated.

He’s so frustrated with himself. Not for kissing you. No, he could never be mad at that, but at the outcome of his final attempt at a holiday date going south again.

You frown at him, walking over and placing a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. “Steve? You okay?”

“I just- I messed it up again.”

“Hey, I’m as much to blame as you are. It takes two to tango, as they say.”

He huffs a weak laugh, picking his head up and twisting to look at you. Your pretty face, eyes nothing but kind. Fuck, he loves you, and he just wanted to show you that. To make Christmas as magical as it's supposed to be.

“I really wanted it to go well, you know?”

You realize then that he’s not only talking about today. That he’s been putting this pressure on himself all month to make plans and something has happened every time. You don’t blame him for that, if anything, it makes your heart ache with adoration.

“Steve, it doesn’t matter to me. Things happen, it’s okay,” you kiss his bicep lightly. “I’d rather things go a bit wrong with you than to have them go right with someone else. You are the best part.”

“I-” love you, he almost says. But he doesn’t want the first time to be like this, in a room that still stinks. “You’re the best part for me too, honey.”

You decide that next time, it’s your turn to do something for him.

-

+1

Steve comes home from work on Christmas Eve, eyes tired and feet hurting despite having worn relatively comfortable shoes today.

He’d tried to get the day off, tried to be able to spend it with you in bed for hours and hours and not getting up until the afternoon. Keith had other plans for him.

He even tried to dramatize his wrist injury. Still, he was forced to go in.

Walking up the driveway, Steve sees the glow of lights inside filtering through the curtains. He’s fairly certain he hadn’t left any on, but he also knows he’s often wrong about these things, so he shrugs it off and goes inside.

There’s noise coming from the living room. Crackling of the fireplace that he barely ever uses, music playing quietly, and then he hears you humming along.

“Honey?”

“Yup, it’s me!”

You know where the spare key is, Steve’s the one who told you the information and encouraged you to use it, but you’ve often been too nervous to do so. Not today, it seems.

While Steve was at work, you’d set up your plan for him.

He follows the sound of your voice without much of a thought, a moth drawn to a flame. When he turns into the living room, he stills.

There are strings of warm white Christmas lights hung about, the fireplace is actually housing a fire, and in front of it is a fort made up of red and green and white blankets and pillows. Some plaid, some with snowflakes, all Christmas themed.

“Did you do all of this?” he asks, walking slowly to where you stand by the fort.

“Figured it was my turn to organize a date, don’t you think?”

“Baby. This is all really sweet, but wha-”

You cut him off, “Uh-uh. Let me explain.” You reach for Steve’s hands, and he meets you in the middle willingly. Suddenly nervous, you shift your weight on your feet. “I thought we could do presents a little early.”

His brows scrunch, “But Christmas is tomorrow.”

“Please?” you ask, squeezing his hands once.

And, really, Steve would never say no to you. Especially not when you’re saying ‘please’ all sweet and delicate like that.

“Okay,” he says. “Yours is in my room. I’ll go grab it. And change; I smell like Family Video.”

“‘Kay, Stevie.”

You kiss his cheek before he goes for good measure.

Steve is confused the entire time, wondering what it could be that you’re up to, but he does as he said he would. You’d been wearing a set of pyjamas (one he loves on you; a soft baby blue pair of shorts with a matching sweater), so he goes for one of his pairs of plaid pants and a plain t shirt before grabbing your messily wrapped gift bag from where he’d hidden it under his bed.

Back in the living room, he finds you now settled on the ground of the fort, which you’d lined with fuzzy blankets and the biggest of the pillows. His gift is sat beside you, a gift box wrapped in a lovely bow. Your skills of wrapping bouquets are transferable, he’s learned.

He joins you, sitting across from you, but close enough that your legs tangle and knees bump.

“You go first,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he scratches the back of his neck, handing you the gift bag. “Let me explain it before you say anything.”

That grabs your attention, but your plans aren’t about his present to you, really, and you know you’ll love it no matter what because Steve knows you better than anyone.

You lift out tissue paper first, uncovering multiple different things inside the bag, also wrapped. It pieces together as you go. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, your entire skincare routine, a couple of pyjama and underwear sets.

“It’s so you don’t have to bring an overnight bag every time you stay over now. I, um, cleared out a couple of drawers in my dresser and the bathroom.”

“Steve,” you look at him, heart squeezing. It’s so thoughtful, so him, and you surge forward you wrap your arms around his neck and breathe into his skin, “I love it. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Perfect.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do,” you sit back into your spot. “You know I hate carrying things.”

“I never let you carry anything, honey.”

“Exactly,” you nod. Now, you hold out his gift for him to take, “Your turn.”

You watch Steve’s hands as he tugs the bow undone, then lifts the lid of the box.

Nestled inside are four delicate ornaments. A Christmas tree, a snowman, an ice skate, and a plate of cookies. One for every date he’d planned for you.

Steve frowns at them, not because he doesn’t like them, but because he doesn’t quite understand where you’re going with this.

“I thought it was time we started collecting our own ornaments. For our place, one day,” you tell him.

“They’re lovely, but honey you- you really wanna remember these things?“ he shakes his head, more at himself than you. “I messed ‘em all up.”

“There’s one more thing in there,” you say quietly.

The thing you're nervous about. A thing you’ve never said out loud before.

Steve finds it beneath one of the ornaments, a small piece of paper folded up. When he opens that, his heart stutters in his chest. Written in your handwriting are three words: I love you.

He blinks away from the paper to look at you, though his thumb continues to trace the words absentmindedly. “Honey-”

“I love you, Steve. Okay?” You shift closer, kneeling at his side, your hands coming up to frame his jaw, your fingers kind against his skin. “I don’t care that things didn’t go how you planned. I mean, I would rather you didn’t require an ER visit, but the point is that I don’t need things to be perfect. And I know you’ve been hard on yourself trying to make them so.”

He lets go of the paper and reaches up to grasp your wrists, his thumb finding your racing pulse. His uninjured hand holds on tighter than the other.

“Thank you for trying for me,” you continue, “for caring. But no matter what happens, things are perfect for me. Because I get to do them with you. Got that, Harrington? You’re perfect, and I love you, and-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. It’s a simple but firm press of his lips against yours, but it says enough.

“I fucking love you too, honey,” he says, his forehead against yours, lips only a breath apart. “You saying all of that it means — you mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well, I meant it.”

“I know you did,” he nods. Steve pulls back the tiniest bit to be able to see your face fully, his sweet brown eyes locked on yours. “I wanted our first Christmas to be perfect, and I didn’t wanna let you down, but you’re right. They were perfect, because you’re here. And I love you for bein’ here.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” you say. You push his hair off his forehead before letting go of his face and sitting back, “Why don’t you give those ornaments a try?”

“On those trees?” he asks, eyebrows lifted, voice joking.

“Steve.”

”Okay, okay.”

He picks up the skate first. Surprising, considering that one had ended in a physical injury for him, but you say nothing and watch him walk over to your little trees by the window. You join him, sitting on the arm of the couch nearby while he scans over the tree.

“Pick a spot, handsome,” you encourage. “There’s really no wrong answer here.”

He goes to hang the first ornament, hand wavering before setting on a branch.

“Well, maybe not-” Steve tackles you onto the couch before you can finish. You dissolve into giggles as he pokes at your ribs, his head on your chest.

Steve’s done keeping score.

Perfect Christmas. That’s it.

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed please please consider leaving a comment and/or a reblog and letting me know what you thought! it would mean a bunch of<3

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere Batfam x reader who cant feel pain

HEhehehe i just remembered a disease and I just had to write about a reader with it x yandere batfam.

Have you guys heard of CIPA? Its "Congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis" which is basically a genetic condition when a patient cant feel pain to any noxious stimulus and can also not sweat, and yall are probably like "but SNoWWW, that doesnt like a diSEase. More like a superpower!!!" um no. You need to be able to feel pain or else you wont know what part of your body has been injured and get help before its too late. You could have thumbtack plunged in your foot and u wouldnt know unless it got infected and u probably saw ur foot changing color.

And now yall are like "but SNoWw, the anhidrosis part, where u cant sweat, sounds nice! who would to look like a sweaty pig in this age????" NO! Sweating is a necessary physiologic phenomenon because it lets your body cool down as it releases heat. If you dont sweat, you'd overheat and DIE!

Okay now that we've covered the basic info, lets get into it:

So, Batfam finds out about reader when she's just running into danger with little to no care for self preservation, and they dismiss it as you being just another dumb teen wanting to be hero and "change the world". Time passes by and Bruce is impressed by your passion and decides to take you under his wing.

It isnt until months later that Bruce discovers something odd about your behaviour. You were standing in the kitchen with the rest of the batkids, laughing and having a good time when he saw Dick had pulled out a hot pan of cookies from the oven and placed it on the aisle. The pan slipped, and without thinking, you had grabbed the hot pan with your bare hands very calmly and placed it back on the aisle, without so much as a hiss of pain or even a sweat.

And now that he thinks about it, Bruce has never seen you sweat. Not during training, not during summer, not even when after you ran laps around the mansion.

With a quick search on the Internet, he finds out about the disease and of course its Dick who he confides in first about his suspicions. Soon, the rest of the batfam has heard the rumours and now they're all watching you keenly to see if its true.

But Jason is the one who tests out the theory quickly by spilling some hot tea on your hand when you were busy talking to Tim about the importance of sleep. The room goes dead silent as they watch your hand turn red, yet you fail to react. It took you a few seconds to realise that they're all looking at you, and when you follow their gaze, it takes you a few seconds to react.

Or fake a reaction.

You shriek, pulling your reddening hand as you run to the sink and run it under cold water, your mind trying to come up with an excuse. But you know its too late when Bruce's hand comes to clasp your shoulder, pulling you away from the sink as his eyes examine your injured hand and... you.

"Bruce I-"

"I know, Y/n." He gives you assuring nod, carefully bandaging your hand as you sat in his office. "You have CIPA, hm?"

You looked down. Why bother lying? He's Batman, he'll find out anyways.

Bruce lifted your head and smiled gently at you. "Its okay. I'm not disappointed in you. I just... you could've told me." You shook your head. "If I did, you would've treated me differently... like a freak."

He sighed. "You are different, but I would've never treated you like a freak. You're not a freak. If anything, between us, I'm more of a freak than you." He was talking about being a hero, but you giggled at the thought of him referring to being a rich dude who cosplays in spandex.

Bruce cupped your cheek and smiled. "I promise, no one will treat you like a freak. But we will have to take some precautions for your safety."

-

He lied. You've never felt more like a freak than you do now.

Every single day would start off with Dick waking you up and sticking a thermometer in your mouth because he needs to make sure that you're not overheating, even though Bruce has set a thermostat in your room that he controls and he's programmed it to turn your room temperature change by the hour.

Then Dick would start checking you all over for any bruises or injuries, even a scratch, that you may have caused yourself in your sleep. Originally, Damian was the one who had a whole checklist as he examined your body, but that all ended the moment you smacked him when he asked you to lift your shirt. Dick would just have you go and check yourself in the bathroom and trust you when you said you're all good. Also, you're much nicer to Dick than you are to the rest of the brothers (its his puppy dog eyes and that sweet voice that compels you to do as he asks. He's just too nice.)

Dick would then lead you to down for breakfast with the family, where Alfred already has your glucometer out because of course, they must check your blood sugar level every day, lest they find out you're diabetic or something. Only then would you be served your meal, which is a highly nutritous, perfeclty seasoned, balanced dish because they want to make sure you dont have any vitamin deficiencies (because how would they know???? you dont feel pain). But you cant eat just yet. No no, whichever brother is closer, most often Jason, will first taste your food to make sure its not too hot to consume (because you dont realise you've burned the roof of your mouth that one time when Tim ate a slice of pizza that was fresh out of the oven and huppahhuffpuhh the morsel out). Jason would then give you the go to eat and you finally do. You make sure to finish the whole plate (because otherwise Bruce will make note of it and then interrogate you "medically" why you didnt feel like eating all of it?)

After breakfast, while the rest of the batkids get to go to school and work, you dont (because Bruce thinks that your immune system could be weak and he cant risk you catching any diseases from the outside.) No, you get a special trip to the infirmary where Bruce and Alfred do a more thorough medical check up, taking your vitals, JOTTING IT DOWN, while Alfred hooks you up to an IV drip of vitamins. And even though they go to such extents to ensure that you're healthy, they still take you to a skilled doctor once a week for regular check ups. Bruce wanted to keep the doctor in the house to do daily check ups, but you talked him out of it that you dont want to feel like a lab rat who has her blood taken every day. Once a week is fine, Bruce.

Once the medical check up is done, Bruce would then take you with him, either to Wayne enterprises where you sit in his office as he imparts you "business education that no school can teach you." which you believe because... well he has managed to triple the Wayne wealth even after his parents death. If he's working from home, then he'll let you accompany him in his home office where you can either read a book he chose for you (because Bruce prefers to homseschool you himself) or do a puzzle/case he created specifically for you. If he's working in the batcave, then he'll let you tag along but you can only work here by brainstorming or doing some computer research, but in no way are you allowed to ever go on field and fight. No, not since your last incident.

Just 2 months ago, you were patrolling with Jason (because Bruce refused to let you go alone now. He just wont risk it) and you encountered some bad guys who were a little more well equipped than you two had expected. A fight broke out, and in the process you got hurt badly. Of course, you didnt realise it because you didnt feel any of the punches or the bone fracturing. Jason could only look at you in dread as you smashed your head against the villain's head until the guy passed out, all while your nose bled, you were covered in bruises from top to bottom, AND you had a bone sticking out of your arm.

"Jay? I think I'm hurt?" You asked as blood coated your teeth.

After that, Bruce forbid you from going out on the field altogether because you just dont know when to stop. If it werent for bones sticking out or blood dripping down your face, you wouldnt know that you've been injured.

Anyways, at lunch, almost everyone has returned from work/school and you get yet another balanced meal (temperature tested by another brother). You're now scheduled for some exercises, usually conducted by Damian (under Dick's supervision because otherwise, you'd just be smacking that devil's spawn.) You guys use the gym in the basement, where Damian makes you run on the treadmill for some time, during which he does not take his eyes off you once because he needs to know when he should stop you, especially since you dont sweat or are even huff. If he didnt keep time, you could probably run for a long time and not realise that your legs or lungs are begging you to stop and take a break. As you hop off the machine, he's immediately taking your temperature. He does it after every exercise he makes you do.

After that is done, you spend time with Tim who likes to have you try on little gadgets that should "help you feel pain", but so far, he hasnt had any luck (but he doesn seem to be doing good in disguising trackers in your daily wear things). Oh and Damian loves to join in because he gets to sneak up on you and prick you with needles to help Tim see if your sensory pathways work. They dont, but you dont need your pain receptors to detect Damian coming up behind you as you smack him when he tries to prick you.

Then dinner is served, and then you're ushered straight to bed where Dick, or more often- Bruce has you do a self check like the one Dick does in the morning, but Bruce also makes sure to check your eyes to see if you "accidentally scratched your cornea" or whatever, tucks you in, tells you that he's so proud of you for how youre handling this and that you can come to him anytime, for anything. He kisses your forehead, wishes you goodnight, and leaves.

Half an hour later, Jason sneaks into your room with the goodies- junk food and video games. You two have the strongest bond because Jason is the one who treats you the most normal, and Jason does it partly to piss off Bruce but partly because he cares about your mental health. He knows it cant be good for you to be cooped up in the mansion under supervision like a bird in a gilded cage.

So sometimes, he sneaks you out of the mansion and takes you out on late night rides on his bike. You can even watch him fight villains, but you're sat far away and can never interferre.

Unfortunately for you two, this sneaking out will have to end because Bruce had recently decided to set up some cameras in your room because he wanted to make sure you slept well without any abnormal breathing patterns. Bruce hopes he doesnt have to use restraints on you, because he's not blind. He knows you're uncomfortable with this intricate routine and knowing your impulsive self, you'd probably break your own bones to get out of these restraints. And then he'll be forced to use sedatives and he really doesnt wanna rely on drugs... he likes your company when you're not droopy.

And as Bruce had anticipated, you broke down. You finally tried to leave, and he could see the color draining your face as you realised that there is no leaving.

"Why isnt the door opening?" You asked Bruce, as his four sons slowly surrounded you.

"You dont have to run away, Y/n-" He tried to calm you down but you flinched away, eyes wide as you looked at him like he was going to harm you.

"Bruce, why isnt the fucking door opening?" Your voice trembled, shooting him teary glare before focusing your eyes back on the boys who were closing in on you.

"You're meant to stay here, inside, where its safe." He answered, heart aching at the alarmed stance you took, your fight-or-flight was going to kick in. He took another step towards you, hands raised in surrender. "We can keep you safe-" thats all it took for you to bolt as the boys began chasing you. Realistically, you knew you couldnt escape them but something about their intensely concerned calls for your name had you jumping out of the window.

Glass shattered and sharp shards embedded themselves in your skin and feet, but you didnt react to them. No, your brain wasnt screaming in pain, it was screaming for you to get out!

Adrenaline pumped you to run into the dark woods surrounding the mansion, but you were soon knocked to the ground by Dick, who cushioned your fall by placing you on top of him as his hands wrapped around your form like a cage. "Y/n, calm down and listen-"

You began thrashing in his arms, screaming in agony. "Let ME GO! YOU'RE HURTING ME-!" Dick's arms loosened instinctively and you took that as a chance to elbow him in the throat and run, thanking some deity for letting Dick forget that you cant feel pain.

But your relief is short lived as Damian catches you and pushes you to the ground harshly. "Damian! Be careful! She could break a bone-"

"Bones can heal, Drake." Damian barked back, pulling you up before he pushed you against tree. "Let me go, you maniac-" Damian's hand clamped around your throat, making you shut up. "You're the one who's a maniac. Look at you! You've fucking hurt yourself because if your astounding stupidity!"

You whimpered, clawing at his hand wrapped around your throat. "Dami- p-please let go- you're hurting me!" You cried out, but your eyes went wide as he squeezed your throat and bared his teeth at you. "Not falling for it, dumbass." So... fooling Damian wasnt as easy a feat as it was fooling Dick.

You stopped the act and looked at him dead serious. "Let me go, Damian, or-"

"Or what?"

Or what? Or what? Did he think you were out of options? Out of escape plans?

You dont know why, but that triggered something inside you.

Damian and Tim could only watch as you suddenly slammed the back of your head against the tree. "Y/n-" He gasped in horror as you leaned your head forward before slamming it back against the hard rough surface. This time, Damian's hand that was wrapped around your neck felt your blood around his fingers.

"Its my life and I get to decide how I should live it." You sneered before raising your head again to bash it, but Damian's hand quickly slipped from your neck to the back of your head, cushioning it when you smacked it back, the skin on the back of his hand breaking as it made contact with the bark.

You pushed him away and tried to make a run for it, but Tim grabbed your wrist. You tried to pull away, but he had a death grip on it. "Y/n, stop! You need to listen-"

"Oh is that so? I think I need this." You used your other hand to punch yourself in the face (because Tim would've dodged it if you punched him), making your nose bleed. But you didnt feel any pain, and now you were acting like a super soldier zombie that has no concept of self preservation who is going through fucked up lengths to prove her point.

Your eyes caught the sight of a glass shard poking out of your thigh. "Wanna see something cool?" You pulled out the shard, not paying mind to the blood oozing out. "Y/n, stop-" Tim begged, and you saw Damian froze in the back as you raised the shard.

They didnt know what your next target was- slashing your wrists, slitting your throat, or stabbing your stomach, but fortunately, they didnt have to find out as Jason came up behind you and injected you with a tranquilliser.

Sadly, you never felt the prick or sensed the hero sneaking up behind you.

thoughts? also, what other diseases would u guys like me to write for. i just adore these cool medical abnormalities lol

[cinnasweetss]

rickenbacker (p.sh)

synopsis: sunghoon wants to get his hands on the popular indie band's guitarist at his uni. might come with some sacrifices though.

or the one where sunghoon betrays his friend for pussy (deserved!)

genre: smut, pw minimal plot.

characters: guitarist!reader, loser!sunghoon, mean!hyung line

wc: 3.6k

(content under cut)

content: bullying, homie hopping, betrayal, slight voyerism if u squint, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, sunghoon doesn’t believe in pulling out, dirty talking, minimal plot, etc etc

sunghoon first sees you at your university's summer festival. 

he meets you three weeks later when youre accompanied by heeseung. not exactly on his arm, but its rare to see him with a girl he hasn't slept with. 

sunghoon develops his newfound attraction to you then. when he sees you off stage, away from the big lights and loud music played by your guitar. sure you were pretty up there too, but up close, god. he can feel his heart thump in his chest the moment you step inside the room with your bandmates. 

he's heard the rumours, that the all-woman band in his university has a knack for attaching themselves to one male friend group a month. thanks to heeseung, he guesses, it's their turn now. 

there's four of them, and only one of you. plus the two other girls you came in with, who seem to have drifted right over to Jay and Jake. it doesn't bother him, really. he can pay way more attention to you without having to entertain some girls. he's quickly pulled from it though, when heeseung nudges him with his foot, "Dude, get the beers." 

It's embarrassing when you snicker, vampishly nudging his shoulder with an overly drawn out "Don't be so mean, hee." after sunghoon finally makes himself useful. 

He sets the cans on the table, watching as multiple hands reach out to grab them until the table is cleared. "You don't drink?" Your voice rings in his ears, coated with disappointment as you watch him shake his head. "He's always been like that, don't mind him."

.....

Sunghoon knows he shouldn't be letting the six of you treat him like this. making him store-run with his own money, ordering him around, expecting him to buy dinner everytime the seven of you go out. 

he only does it so he can glimpse at you every now and again. wants to get the most out of these last two weeks he probably has with you before you run off with another group of guys. even when he catches you talking about exactly who that next group is. 

You sent him out to buy you a pack of cigarettes just down the block as the other five bullshit around at the bar. He finds you outside, cigarette tucked between two fingers adorned with white nails. "Thanks, hoon" you really have to admit, this is a new dynamic. whenever you and your bandmates attach to a group of guys that outnumber you, the ones who aren't picked seem to fuck off. 

sunghoon either doesnt care, or enjoys being the groups water boy. either way, it's fucking weird having him constantly hovering around. "Sit next to me." You invite, scooting over and patting the area beside you. Of course he listens, sitting without a word.

you have to admit, you haven't heard him say anything other then small phrases. you don't even know if he's able to hold a conversation if you tried. 

"you're pretty quiet...are you always like this?"

That feels like a knife in the chest. he so badly wants to say no, that it's only like this because the six of you are too busy obsessing over each other to know he's even there. but he knows that's not true. he knows he's heard that too many times for it to not be true. "Yeah, kinda." It leaves him in a mumble, prompting you to shift your body to his to hear him better. over the sound of music from the bar and the sound of cars zooming by. 

"I've got another friend, do you want to meet her?" 

you don't mean harm by it, you're just curious if this is actually how he is, or if he's only acting this way because his friends are excluding him. which, you are too, but you can only handle one guy at a time. based off experience. 

"I'm fine, thanks." it's another mumble you can barely make out, but you know he's declining by the way he doesnt even look at you. 

he'd have a greater chance at being picked if he took those glasses off, put some bass in his voice and told his friends "no" once in awhile. 

you quickly decide it isn't your job to fix this man, and decide to leave to the next girl who comes around. hopefully she comes quickly enough for him to enjoy his youth. "I'll see you inside."

that leaves sunghoon with his thoughts. with the realisation that his first and likely last conversation with you went to shit just because he can't communicate properly. 

he can't help that you intimidate him. maybe its the fact that he knows that youre unreachable despite almost always being a few feet away from him. you're the same on and off stage, too high for him to reach. too pretty to even think of him the same way you think of heeseung. 

"Fuck!" it all settles into anger, resulting in an outburst louder than he'd like. it takes him a few minutes before he decides to join the group, eyes settling on you and heeseung tucked away in a booth together. 

.....

youre not sure what exactly made you change your mind. 

Maybe the fact that heeseung is boring the shit out of you, his head sucks, he doesn't really care about getting you off, or maybe sunghoon is just that much more interesting because of heeseungs recent performance. 

maybe its the fact that sunghoon isn't one of the men screaming and shouting so loud you can barely hear the notes from your own guitar. the fact that he's tucked behind heeseung in the crowd, though his eyes are still seemingly stuck on you. doesnt even seem like he's listening, he's just staring. observing from afar. 

two nights ago is what really solidified it for you. when heeseung rolled over after cumming once. without even thinking about trying to get you off, even when you pulled the "im gonna cum" line to get him to keep going. it wasn't hard to begin thinking about someone else. thinking about the boy who doesnt say much, barely says anything at all. is completely unreadable, and has no people skills whatsoever.

you haven't said much to heeseung. short texts since then. instead you've made plans to see sunghoon. away from his friend group. 

sunghoon is too thrilled to receive a text from you that Friday night almost immediately after your performance.he's supposed to be running to the store for heeseung, grabbing beers and shit for the guys- what the fuck ever. they're gonna turn into a beer if they keep drinking like that.

he doesnt even think twice. you don't even think twice, sending the location of your studio before he can even respond. 

it takes him virtually no time to wander off, shoving away Jay when he tells him he's going in the absolute wrong direction. that the store is that way, not that way. his eyes darting around to find the building your studio is inside of. 

its not hard for him to find a door with the name of your band plastered right in-front of it. unlocked. 

you're tucked against the wall when he comes in, those same prettily manicured hands that often hold a cigarette, strumming at the strings of your blue guitar that sits on your lap. still in the same outfit you wore onstage, making this all the more surreal. 

the soft click of the door is what pulls you from it. "Lock it, yeah?" Sunghoon can barely hear you over the loud thumping in his chest, still he manages to do just that. awaiting another order from you. "You can sit. There." the way he moves is awkward, eyes moving around the room, looking at anything but you once he finally sits. 

you move your guitar from your lap, joining sunghoon on the leather couch. so close your shoulder brushes against his. "Did you like it? the song, I mean..."

sunghoon only nods, eyes still avoiding yours. "You can talk to me, you know. I don't bite..." he doesn't shy away when you reach out to touch his arm. 

usually a guy would gush about how sexy you look on stage, ask to touch your guitar, ask you to teach them a few chords. you don't expect him to fall for the bait, nor notice your attempts at flirting. 

your only other option is to not beat around the bush, tell him exactly what you what from him. "I called you here 'cause I wanted to tell you liked you, hoonie." wasn't at all what he was expecting to hear from you next, not when its well known that you're with heeseung. 

"You like me too, right? that's why you stick around even though you don't have to." you have no evidence to back this up, might even be super far fetched, but its worth a try. "Yeah, but, you've got heeseung." not too far fetched it seems, "But I want you, hoon." you quickly shake your head,   leaning your upper body against his shoulder. 

sunghoons got a million things going through his head at once. the fact that if he does anything with you he'd be betraying a long time friend, him being so incredibly turned on beyond belief just because you've got your tits in his hands, almost. the visual of you leaning in to kiss him right now, not knowing whether or not to kiss you back or push you away when you finally do. 

you think he's going to. going to push you away and take the side of his friend that wouldnt think twice about doing this with you if the roles were reversed. he's continuously proved you wrong though, wrapping his arms right around your waist. 

he'd be absolutely stupid to not kiss you back. he can't believe he even thought about rejecting you. cant believe he thought about sparing heeseungs feelings. 

the incessant ringing in his pocket forces you two away, a soft "Sorry..." leaving him as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

speak of the devil. 

"What the fuck, you left thirty minutes ago dude!", "hurry the fuck up, seriously." 

you can't stand to hear that asshole yelling at him over the phone. he thinks he's hot shit just because he's the oldest and they all listen to whatever he asks. "Don't let him talk to you like that, hoonie..." It's low enough for sunghoon to hear only, "stick up for yourself, hm?"

Sunghoon would rather shoot himself in the foot than look like a fucking loser infront of you. your hand rubs encouraging circles against his chest, head resting on his shoulder. "Get it yourself. I'm busy." he makes sure it's firm, just so you know that he is standing up for himself. "What?! No, I told you to do it. that means do it now. not when you feel like it." 

"You didnt fucking hear me? I said I'm busy. Tell Jay to get off his ass and do it for you." you can't lie, that sounds so hot coming from him. it puts a smile on your face, only because you knew he had it in him. even if it did take a little encouragement from you. "Hang up." this time you make sure your words are loud enough to go through that speaker, making sure heeseung hears you. 

"Who are you with?"

With heeseung in his ear, and you practically on his lap and pressing kisses against his cheek, it's clear he needs to get off the phone. "Don't worry about it. It's not your fucking business." it's just as harsh as his words before, and yet all heeseung can say is "Who the fuck are you with, sunghoon?!" 

he knows exactly who he's with. that goes without saying, especially when you whine a "Pay attention to me, hoon..." right. into. the mic. 

you both can hear heeseung go absolutely ballistic as you push the phone away from sunghoon's ear, cupping his face so you can finally get back to kissing him. you're sure heeseung got a earful of heavy breaths and kisses before you finally make sure the call disconnects. 

Sunghoons new found confidence comes with a bit of dominance to it seems, leading the kiss even when you straddle him and immediately grind against him. his hands instinctively move to hold your hips, only cause he wants to seriously focus on kissing you for awhile. wants to enjoy the taste of your lipgloss after he pushes his tongue past your lips. 

neither of you can really do that though, not when you're both pulling at each others clothing at the same time. you want his pants off to see what he's working with, and he wants a tit in his mouth. your hands are constantly fumbling around each other, so much that you pull away with a laugh. you quickly pull your shirt off, tossing it to the side. 

he's got an eyeful of your tits in your cheetah print bra, and an even bigger one when you reach behind your back to take it off. he's practically drooling, mouth hung open, focused right on the metal that runs through each nipple. 

"holy shit." 

he nearly cums right then and there. maybe he does, he's not too sure, wouldnt be surprised if he did. especially because when he does get a tit in his mouth, its absolutely euphoric. coldness of the metal pressed right against his tongue, grazing his teeth. your other tit sits perfectly in his hand that's switching between groping, and tugging right on your sensitive nipple.

your hands are fumbling under his shirt, trying to unbuckle his belt so you can stick hand in his pants just to cop a feel. a soft "Can I eat you out?" stops you. how can you ever say no to such a request?

You nearly fall trying to get off of him quickly so he can find a spot between your legs. suddenly the size of his dick doesnt matter, as long as he's good at this. which, he quickly proves that he is. doesnt even bother taking off your panties, nor your skirt for that matter. he just flips it up and pushes your panties to the side.

your jaw falls open, hands immediately reaching for the head between your legs. the feeling his tongue brings is pure bliss. he knows exactly where the clit is, when to switch from licking to sucking, when to push two fingers inside and- "Fuck!" he's just barely started, yet you're already this much of a mess. 

its not his fault he can't stop mouthing away at your cunt, moaning each time his tongue flicks against your clit. you just taste so good, no matter how much he licks away at you, it isn't nearly enough to satiate him. he has to pull away, take those damned glasses off his face so he can bury himself deeper between your legs. 

His fingers plunging in and out of you to match the rhythm and speed of his tongue only tighten that coil in your stomach. if he manages to make you cum from this, you'll be keeping him a lot longer than usual. especially because he seems to be enjoying this just as much as you do. moaning each time your hands tug on his hair and you grind against his lips. 

You're unable to stop the plethora of sounds that leave you with each flick of his tongue and movement of his fingers. it's no surprise that you're just minutes away from succumbing to your orgasm."Don't stop!" Sunghoon doesn't dare think of stopping, keeps his pace steady as he eases that orgasm right from you. his eyes lock right on your face, watching as your brows furrow and your face contorts beautifully after your "I'm cumming!" he eats you through it and then some, until you stop squirming, and your grip loosens on his hair. 

You genuinely believe you've seen god, that he told you to never ever settle for anything other than this. Sunghoon emerging from your legs with the same fingers that were previously inside of you now tucked between his lips, makes you wonder if he's god with the way he just sucked your soul right out of you.

you watch as he undresses himself. unveiling a surprisingly built figure you didn't know he had. and the fact that he's hung on top of all that. can't deny, you can't wait to figure out of he's as good with his dick as he is his mouth. 

neither of you think twice about a condom, not when he climbs on top of you and kisses you again. you'd be fine with just this, honestly. just kissing him all night. "Ready?"

you think its really cute that he asks, not saying the bar is in hell, but its still a nice gesture. you smile up at him, a soft "yeah" and a head nod is all it takes. he shoves a hand between your bodies, lining himself up with your entrance.

you wince as he slides in, sunghoon watching intensely for any other obvious signs of discomfort. his jaw falls open, forehead pressed against yours once he finally bottoms out. he gives you a second before his hips retract and slow meet yours once again. you're relieved he doesnt immediately begin to pounce on you, as this is enough to have you clawing at his forearms. 

youre just so tight, sucking him right back in anytime he pulls away. the constant clenching and trembling of your walls around him is enough to have him cum just from these very soft and cautious movements of his.

his lips find yours again, kissing through the next few thrusts in which he goes impossibly deeper, and quicker. "Fuck, you're so wet..." those words force a moan out of you that you didnt know you were holding. "Pussy's creamin' already." so not only does he know exactly what he's doing, he's talking you through it too. 

you'd be satisfied if today was your last day on earth. if you died right here, right after hearing those words leave his mouth. you had no idea he had all this in him. that he was even the type, honestly. you know what they say about the quiet ones though.

you don't even have to tell him faster, its like he's reading your fucking mind. like he's became one with you so he knows exactly what to do and when to do it. its the first time you haven't had to coach a man through the entire thing. that is, if you want to get off. you'll be damned if you let this one get away. 

"holy shit" he moans above you, forcing your legs over his shoulders so he can fuck deeper. you cant squirm like this either, forcing you to lay and take every single inch he's giving you. it doesnt matter how hard you push at his hips so he can take maybe an inch or two out of you, he's unrelenting. 

"Hoon!" you shout, hands grabbing at the soft leather below you one you realize he's not stopping anytime soon. his thrusts are quick and short, sharp. the sound of skin slapping, moans, and the like fill the studio. more vulgar words and praises leave him, only adding to the overwhelming pleasure youre receiving from him. "Gonna keep fucking this pussy open till you stop squirming." 

to be loved is to be heard. to be loved is to be seen. to be loved is to be fucked. hard. 

"Sunghoon!" your breath quickens, heart thumps in your chest when you realise he's almost fucked you into another orgasm. there's no need to say it, he knows after observing you just once. 

" 's so big, 's too big!" you're either gonna cum so hard you pass out, or he's gonna split you right in half. either one. you'll be fine with both, really. 

the fine details are irrelevant, what matters is the absolute euphoria your walls give. his balls are so heavy and full, aching to finally release a load. he's almost there, right with you. insisting, telling you that you're gonna keep taking him until you finish. not before. 

"Hoon, i'm-" it's incredible when you finally do. your walls contract so hard, your body convulses, a string of loudly drawn out sounds of ecstasy leave you before you're even able to tell him. 

you swear you're ascending, cumming so hard you can't even hear sunghoon coax you through it. it's the first time you ever have tap out. having to beg him to stop for just a second. you're just so overwhelmed. 

he does, kissing your chest soothingly, though not for long. he does give you a second. one second and then he's back at it again. chasing his own high. "I'm gonna cum. Holy shit." 

his hips come to a hard halt. slamming into your hips one more time as he fucks his cum right into you. "Fuck!" it vocalizes in a jumble of moans, heavy breaths, and one tight grip on your hips. 

he collapses ontop of you thereafter, pulling himself out of you with a hiss. his face nuzzles in your neck, leaving soft kisses there. it's almost no surprise that he's ready for round two minutes after.  lifting himself off of you with a big dorky smile, and "Can we go again?" 

heeseung hyung i'm gonna fuck you up for this.  11:42pm

[prettypinkporkchop]

I’m a paul girly can u please do one where Paul is grumpy because everyone is coupled up with their imprint and his is away for college but at the bonfire the girls surprise Paul with his imprint and he goes from a mean grumpy to a clingy sweetheart make it long pls I love u💕

I love you!!!!! ❤️

Paul kicks the log that's below him. Everyone that's lined up on the cliff turns to him. "Paul, lighten up." Embry says. "Shut up." Paul growls and charges at him, pushing him into the water. "Really?" Jared looks at him. "Fuck off, Jared." Paul rolls his eyes. Paul misses you so bad. He hates when you're away.

Everyone is at Emily's. She made the pack lunch. They're all eating inside the house. Paul is quiet, eating his sandwhich. "Dude! Imagine what'd it'd be like if Jacob and Renesmee had babies? I sense new drama." Embry laughs. Paul grumbles and rolls his eyes. "Hey, me and Kim are planning. Just saying." Jared raises his hands. "Nuh, uh! You're just stupid horny." Quil shoves him. They burst into laughter. Paul just sits there. "Paul Lahote. Don't be so rude. I know it sucks, but she's coming back soon!" Emily pats his back. He moves his shoulders around, wiggling her hand off of him. "Yeah. I know." He says.

Back outside, everyone is training. Even the Black pack. Leah is laughing, and just her laughter pisses off Paul. He's keeping his cool. "Bro, if I phase right now, I'm biting your ankle." Embry playfully pushes Quil. "Kinky." Quil smirks and then phases. He didn't even bother to take off his shorts. When he phases, he accidently bumps into Paul. Paul growls, loses his cool, and phases. Quil's wolf slowly backs away. Sam is calling out to Paul to chill out. Paul disregards Sam and starts attacking Quil.

It's been like this for weeks. Leah, Kim, and Emily are the only ones that know you are coming back tonight at the bonfire tonight. Right now, you're at the airport heading back home. Being away from Paul has been hard for you. You're getting excited at the fact that when you go home, the last two years of your schooling are online! Paul knows nothing! This is going to be the best surprise. "Forks!" The lady at the desk, taking tickets for the plane entry, calls out your destination. Only two other people follow suit. They don't look familiar, so obviously, it's just their layovers.

Emily looks at Sam because Paul just snapped at Seth for no reason. "Paul. I'm about to just send your ass home if you don't stop." Paul sighs and leans back in the chair, looking at the sun as it sets. The fire is warm on his legs, but all he can think about is you. Seth, being Seth, offers Paul a plate and a drink. "Yeah. Thanks." Paul said dryly. Seth feels so bad. He's the only one willing to deal with Paul's anger. Everyone else is over it but at the same time, feel bad. "You know she'll come back." Emily says. "I've got that. But when? I don't know. And she has to go right back. And it'll be like this for another two years." Paul growls. "You know it's hard for her too. You have to support her." Leah butt's in. "Jesus, Leah. You know I support her. She's at school, right?" He looks at her. She nods her head and walks away, going to talk to Kim. It's getting unbearable for Paul. Being away from an imprint is the toughest thing for a shifter. It's been two months of texting, phone calls, and video calls. You're gone for two months, back for two weeks. It's been like that for a year now. Every time you leave, Paul gets angrier and angrier.

Kim and Leah get in the truck and drive to the airport to wait for you. You'll be back in an hour or so. Paul sees Emily smirking at him and then Sam. "What is it?" Paul asks. "Nothing." She shakes her head. Paul just sighs, and Seth comes back with a plate of steak, potatoes, and muffins. In his other hand is a glass of coke. Paul takes it and nods at Seth. Paul starts scarfing it down.

You leave the terminal and go out to the open space. People are walking around you and you're trying to catch Leah and Kim.

You: girls! I'm near the entrance.

You text them. Not even a few minutes later, Kim in the distance spots you. The two women run to you. You run to them, too. Your fully packed backpack and duffle bag on your arm are heavy and bouncing. You tackle both of the women who hold their arms open. You three laugh and just about fall over. "Let me take this!" Leah smiles, grabbing your bag. "UGH! Thank you, life saver." You gush at Leah. "God, I've missed you guys." You sigh. "Paul has been a dick, as usual. I'm literally about to snap his neck." Leah laughs. You nod your head in agreement. "I can only imagine." You reply.

You girls get to Leah's truck. You sit in the back seat while Leah drives. "Nobody questioned why we left. Not even Jared!" Kim says offended. "Them rowdy boys wouldn't notice if the sun fell on them while they're together." Leah laughs. "True!" You call out. "How's Billy?" You ask. "He's doing good. Old man can't fall over. I swear he's invincible." Leah laughs. "Yes! I try to help him do stuff around the house, but he just shooes me and Emily off." Kim says. "So, typical Billy. What about Jake and Nessie?" You ask. Leah rolls her eyes. "The guy is barely even with us. Ever since they got their house, them two have been loners. He only comes out during get-togethers, wolf shit, and bonfires." Leah replies. As she says this, a car pulls out in front of you guys. She swerves to the side, making you hit your head on the window. "Shit! Asshole!" Leah honks her horn. Kim flips them off. You lean back up in your seat. "Geez." You laugh awkwardly. "We're stopping at Paul's so you can drop off your stuff and then going to the fire." Leah says, totally disregarding that you almost died.

You guys finally make it. You can see the smoke from the fire and orange in the distance in the yard. You can see the guys running around. You squint toward the fire and see Paul sitting in a chair by himself. You giggle at his sulking. "Wait, I didn't think this far." Kim laughs. "How do we surprise him?" She turns to Leah. "I have an idea!" You lift a finger. They turn to you. "I sneak up behind him, putting my hands in front of his eyes and pull a 'guess who'." They nod together and then clap their hands. "UGH! Finally, I can breathe!" Leah breathes out. You laugh at her dramatic self. You step out of the truck. You slowly walk your way behind Paul. "I can hear you creeping, and I'm not in the mood." Paul growls. You quickly put your hands in front of his eyes. "Fuck." He growls but then stops instantly as he smells your scent. "Guess who." You whisper. He doesn't hesitate to stand up, throw the chair that's in between you, and wrap his arms around you. You hold him back and breathe in what you've missed. Paul Lahote. He's back in your arms. "Oh my fucking god, my baby." He mumbles in your hair. "I fucking love you." He says. "I love you too, Paul." You reply. Then, there's loud clapping all around. You two pull away from each other and see everyone clapping. "How'd you even get here?!" He smiles at you. Before you can even answer, he grabs your face and kisses you roughly. You kiss him back and wrap your fingers around his wrists. His lips are soft, and the kiss is longing. You fall into it, moving your lips with his. You pull away and look into your man's eyes. "Leah and Kim picked me up. All of the girls knew." You reply, your thumbs running over his knuckles. "Damn it." He smiles, chuckling. He lifts you up and spins you around. "My girl." He laughs. You laugh along with him, and he sets you down. "Alright, we get it! Now, time to share her." Emily laughs, hugging you. Paul smiles, not giving any more attitude.

You hug everyone, and Paul refuses to leave your side. You love it! Considering, you refuse to leave his, too. Now you guys are sitting around the fire. Jake and Nessie showed up. You're sitting on his lap. His arms are around your waist. He leaves random kisses on your back and arm. He randomly squeezes and presses his cheek against your back as if you could disappear any moment. Once the fire talk is over, you turn to Paul. "I don't want you to go again." He frowns. "Baby, I have good news." You smile. "What?" His eyes widen and sparkle with hope. "My physical classes are over. I'm home now. They're online." You watch as his lips part, and he slowly begins to smile. "Oh my God. YES!" He holds you. You pull his face off of your chest and kiss him softly. He doesn't instantly kiss you back. Pulling away and going back in, over and over. Everyone is leaving you two at it.

After holding onto you for a hot while, Paul decides to apologize to his pack and play around with them. You sit down on the chair, chatting with Emily. "God, Paul is back." She sighs in relief. "I know! Even on the phone, he seemed off." You giggle. Paul grabs your shoulders suddenly and then kisses your head. "Alright, back off with the boys." He does this a few more times. He runs off to play with the guys and then runs to you to give you a quick kiss before running back.

You're typing away on your laptop while Paul is still in bed sleeping. You're on the couch with your legs crossed doing some work. You open the highlighter cap and swipe it across words on the thick ass book that sits next to you. The bedroom door opens, and there stands a quiet Paul. His sleep shorts are hanging low. He yawns and scratches the back of his neck. "Good morning, my baby girl." He says in his scratchy and low morning voice. He walks over to you and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Good morning, my love." You scrunch up your nose with a smile. He looks over your neck and chuckles. "You didn't leave hickeys last night, did you?" You sighed in annoyance. "Eh, maybe I got carried away." He clicks his tongue before walking into the kitchen. "Damn it, Paul." You turn on the camera on your phone and see three big purple bruises. "Emily asked me to come over today when you go over there." You say. "Good because you were coming with anyways." He smirks, pouring his milk into his cereal. You blush and then bite your lip. "AWE, no, don't do that. You'll get what you got last night again." He winks. You roll your eyes playfully. "And don't do that either." He warns, taking a bite of his cereal.

You're mixing the batter to Emily's cake. She licks some chocolate off her finger and flips through her recipe. "Girl, this will take hours!" She sighs. "Are you nervous? I mean, it's a wedding cake! That's a lot of pressure." You continue to mix. "Nah! It's a small wedding." She shrugs it off. "Woowoo!" You hear Embry and Quil. In walks everyone, including Jacob. "Surprised you're here." Emily smirks at him. "Hey, I had to see y/n again." He laughs. You smile at him. "Well, I'm here permanently." You say. Paul walks behind the counter and puts his arm around your waist, kissing your cheek. "Normally, I'd say get the hell out of my kitchen, but I'm giving you an exception today." Emily says to Paul. "Thank you, Emily!" He smiles. "Oh wow! A thank you!" Jared jokes. Paul flips him off with a smirk. "Don't hate the love." You laugh. You place the bowl down on the counter to finish up your assignment Emily gave you for the cake. Paul huffs and pulls you back into him. "Hey!" You giggle. "Alright, lover boy, let the girl bake." Emily pats his shoulder. Paul groans and nods his head, walking toward the group of guys. "Yes, ma'am." He says. "I could really get used to this." Emily laughs. Sam nods his head, crossing his arms. "Yes, much better." He laughs. "Paul, I have to show you this new trick I can do while jumping off the cliff!" Embry says. "I saw you do that shit, dude. You looked dumb." Jacob teases. "Aye now." Quil warns and wraps an arm around Embry. "Don't be mean to my boyfriend." He glares. "WOAHHHH WOOOAHHH WOKKAHHG." Embry shoves him off. "Emily! Can I give y/n one more kiss?" He begs. "Quickly." She says, putting one of the cake pieces into the oven. He jumps up and gets behind you while you put icing on the base of the cake. He kisses your head over and over before you turn your head and kiss him softly. He smiles and then sits back down. "Alright, alright. I'm done." He says. "Lover boy!" Jacob sings. "Oh, loverboy!" Jared follows Jacob. Paul glares at them. "I'll kick your asses. I'm not joking." He growls. They start laughing. "There's the hothead!" Jared ruffles his hair. Paul grabs his hand tightly. "Ow, ow, ow." Jared laughs.

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie Munson x Shy!Reader

Summary: Max and Lucas are tired of their friends silently pining over each other but never making a move, so when the Winter Formal rolls around, they take matters into their own hands.

Warnings: mutual pining, idiots in love, fluffy fluff

WC: 1.8k

A/N: Happy anniversary to the love of my life, @corroded-hellfire 💚 one year ago today, we met in person for the first time, and my life has been infinitely better ever since. Thank you for being my best friend. I love you more than Dustin loves his Weird Al shirt. Red, this fic is for you.

Divider credit to @saradika

“Kill me now.”

Three words uttered by none other than Max Mayfield, sliding her lunch tray onto the table and sitting down with an irritated sigh. 

You look at her with an amused grin. “What is it this time? Bombed a pop quiz? Got detention for flipping off a teacher—again?” Her brazen, flippant attitude provided many entertaining moments, so long as you weren’t on the receiving end of it. 

Max shakes her head, spearing a limp macaroni noodle with her plastic fork. “I wish.” She holds up two tickets to the Winter Formal. “Lucas is dragging me to this bullshit. ‘All the other basketball guys’ girlfriends are going,’” she mocks him in an octave much lower than his actual voice, “so I guess that means I have to follow suit.”

Bringing a hand to your heart, you jut out your lower lip in mock-pity. “Oh, no; your boyfriend wants to show you off at a school dance! How will you ever survive?” 

Max doesn’t miss a beat. “You could go, too,” she says, blue eyes pleading. “Keep me company when the guys inevitably bail to get wasted in the woods.”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t need a date,” she insists, reading your mind before the words can leave your mouth. “I’m telling you, Lucas is gonna ditch me as soon as Jason and Patrick show up.” She takes your hand between both of hers. “Please? I’ll even tell Ms. Kelly the lengths you went to for your poor, troubled freshie.”

You exhale, knowing that she doesn’t need to go to all of that trouble. You’d started off the school year as her peer mentor, but just a few months later, you two have become close friends. “Fine, I’ll go,” you acquiesce, laughing when she pumps her fists victoriously. “But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

You return to your own lunch, completely missing the mischievous look that graces her freckled face. 

Unbeknownst to you, a similar discussion is had at Hellfire Club later that same afternoon. 

“Absolutely not,” Eddie scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “Nice try, Sinclair, but I wouldn’t be caught dead at some lame dance.”

“Seriously,” Jeff smirks from his position across the table. “He’s never been to a single one in his ten years of high school.”

Eddie flips him off casually. “It’s only six, asshole. But that doesn’t matter, because I’m not dressing up in some penguin suit to drink unspiked punch with a bunch of shitty people.”

“C’mon, dude,” Lucas says, his tone bordering on a whine. “If you don’t go, I’m gonna be stuck with the jocks all night, and they just wanna suck face with their girlfriends.”

“And you don’t?” Gareth quips. 

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Not in front of everyone. And I don’t need a front-row seat to their performances, either.” He turns his attention back to the Dungeon Master. “Look, I’m desperate. Mike’ll be visiting his grandma and Dustin’s grounded because of his D-plus in Spanish.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “What about Huey, Dewey, and Louie over here?” he asks, gesturing to the three remaining club members. 

Their collective responses are jumbled excuses; Eddie swears one of them says he’s going kayaking—in mid-December in Indiana—but he doesn’t bother to sift through their lies. “You owe me, Sinclair,” he declares, pointing his forefinger at the underclassman. “Big time.”

The next few weeks leading up to the Winter Formal are spent meticulously making plans. For someone who seemed so disinterested in this dance, Max is paying careful attention to each detail. 

You walk out of the dressing room in a velvet emerald green dress that hits just above the knee. Max is beaming as she adjusts the off-the-shoulder sleeves and smooths down any creases. 

“You look really nice,” she says, nodding her head. She’s trying to temper her enthusiasm, but you can sense her excitement. “I can’t wait to tell Lucas.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Lucas? Why would he care?” He’s a nice kid—more in tune with emotions than the average fourteen-year-old boy—but that doesn’t constitute an interest in your fashion choices. 

Max’s cheeks burn as red as her hair. “Uh, well, seeing you happy makes me happy, and seeing me happy makes him happy, so…everyone’s happy?” she finishes lamely. She clears her throat as if expelling the awkwardness from the conversation. “Anyway, let’s buy this dress so we can look for shoes.”

“Yeah, okay.” You’re not fully convinced, but you brush it off and steel your nerves to ask a question. “Is anyone else gonna be there that we know?” You really want to know whether Eddie Munson is going to be there, but you can’t say the quiet part aloud. 

“Probably,” she shrugs, a bit too quickly, but she’s pushing you back behind the curtain to change before you can inquire more. 

“Why does this stupid tie need to be green?” Eddie asks, sifting through the store’s selection with Lucas by his side. 

“Uh, Christmas colors,” Lucas stammers, fumbling for a decent explanation other than the contents of his secret phone call with Max earlier today. “And, y’know, red is way overdone, so…” he trails off lamely, going back to the display table and hoping Eddie drops the matter. 

They find exactly what they’re looking for—not without Eddie complaining about putting in too much effort just to be a third wheel—and make their way over to the food court. Eddie makes a beeline for the Pizza Hut when he stops dead in his tracks. “Shit, Sinclair; we gotta go,” he says urgently, clapping a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder and steering him away from the fast food. 

“What the hell? I’m hungry!”

Eddie shakes his head, curls brushing against his shoulders. “Look, man.” He discreetly points to his left, where you and Max are giggling at the Orange Julius. “We can’t let them see us.”

“Dude, she’s like the nicest person ever,” Lucas rebuts. “Even Max likes her, and Max pretty much hates everyone.”

“That’s not the problem.” Eddie rakes his ringed fingers through his hair, wincing when he snags one on a knot. “The problem is that she’s gonna be all, ‘hi, Eddie; what’re you doing at the mall?’ And I’m gonna be all, ‘just picking out a tie for the Winter Formal.” And then she’ll go, ‘oh, who’s your date?” And then I’ll have to say, ‘I don’t have one; I’m just playing babysitter to some freshmen like a goddamn loser!” He hops back and forth to indicate each character change.

“First of all, ouch,” Lucas quips, “second, go hide in the bathroom if you want, but I’m getting something to eat.”

Eddie exhales an exasperated sigh, giving in and schlepping over to Pizza Hut, one of the few times in his life that he’s trying to be inconspicuous. 

You pull into the school parking lot on the night of the Winter Formal and shift into park before killing the engine. Max is bouncing her leg up and down in the passenger seat, lower lip tucked between her teeth.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, mistaking her excitement for anxiety. “You know that Lucas would think you look beautiful even if you showed up in a potato sack.” You furrow your brow. “Where is he, anyway? Why didn’t he come with us?”

She mumbles something about not wanting her mom to ask any questions about the relationship, and you take them at face value. Her eyes light up when she spots her boyfriend walking into the school alongside…Eddie Munson?

“Eddie’s here?” you ask in a hushed whisper, feeling sweat prickling under your arms. You’ve been nursing a massive crush on him for ages–one that Max is very much aware of. And now he’s here, dressed in a black suit with his hair pulled back into a low bun at the nape of his neck. “Max, why didn’t you tell me? Who’s he going with?” The idea of him slow dancing with someone else has your stomach turning.

Max just shrugs. “I don’t think he had a date.” Too casual, too blasé–she knows something. “C’mon, let’s go in.” She swings the car door open enthusiastically, leaving you shell-shocked in your seat.

“Maxine Mayfield!” you hiss, using her full government name to drive home your bewilderment, but she just skips ahead. Damn your heeled shoes, slowing you down before you can catch up to her. When you finally do, she just grabs your hand and tugs you towards the guys.

She poorly feigns surprise, jaw dropping as she exclaims, “Eddie? What are you doing here? Oh, my gosh, this is such a coincidence!” She pulls you closer, smiling far too wide. “Lucas and I both brought our upperclassmen friends! What are the odds?”

“Yeah, so weird,” Lucas says, not as loud as Max but just as transparent. He looks at Max before regarding you and Eddie. “Okay, well, we’re gonna go dance–bye!” The two of them scamper off, leaving you alone with Eddie. If their stilted dialogue wasn’t evidence enough, the way Eddie’s tie perfectly matches your dress certainly clears up their intentions.

Eddie speaks first, shoving his hands in his pants pockets and nervously swiveling his body. “I, uh, think we’ve been set up,” he says with a small, awkward chuckle. “I swear, it wasn’t my idea. Not–not that it’s a bad thing, I just meant, like, if you’re uncomfortable with this, I don’t wanna be held responsible.” His cheeks burn red. “Shit, I need to stop talking.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with your own kind laugh, “we might as well make the most of it. Get some punch and make fools of ourselves out there?” You gesture towards the gym’s makeshift dance floor; the band has just started playing Journey’s “Faithfully.” Eddie’s nods, following you to an empty space, and you timidly drape your arms over his shoulders. Taking care to avoid an inappropriate touch, he rests his palms on the small of your back. 

His voice is low when he murmurs in your ear, “you look really beautiful tonight.” He clears his throat and speaks again. “You always look really beautiful, though.”

The two of you sway to the music, swapping shy smiles and fleeting but longing glances. As the song ends, you look over your shoulder. “We’re being spied on,” you report, noting the way the two younger kids are watching you from across the room. You consider your next words before eventually deciding to go for it: “Did you talk to Lucas about me as much as I talked to Max about you?”

“Probably more,” Eddie laughs, bringing you a bit closer. “But I’m interested in comparing notes.”

You nod, staving off any lingering nerves. “Maybe after the dance, we can split a burger from Benny’s and discuss?”

Eddie presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Yeah,” he says; you can feel his lips move against your skin, “I’d like that.”

--

[ashwhowrites]

Ohhh babes I saw you want angst and YES Miscommunication + secret dating TOTES SOUNDS 🔥 . So, Eddie n reader dating on the dl bc Eddie worried reader would get treated bad or bullied?? but he didn’t actually tell her that Just asked to keep it secret/quiet/whatev. So maybe Billy Steve or ??? knows Eddie is her friend and asks Eddie like whats she like, she dating anyone, I wanna take her out.

And Eddie straight panics and instead of oh she’s got a boyfriend at another school or some smart… he down talks her. she boring, annoying, she always [thing reader actually does alot!], dont bother. And course reader hears and is right devastated and thinks thats why the dl, cause he’s embarrassed/using her for sex/it’s all a big joke to him.

After end of day in private she breaks up with him, doesn’t say she overheard. Eddie has no idea what he did wrong, she avoids him, won’t talk. He’s broken. Finally he finds out she heard what he said and what she thinks. Could it end happy eventually? Like maybe he makes a loud speech like he does on the caff tables to show he’s never been embarrassed of her, yeah?

Hurt me with the angst babes. Xoxo

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

DL

Y/N wasn't the best at keeping secrets, everything she felt was said on her face. She never saw the point in secrets, which is why she felt like the biggest hypocrite in the world. Because here she was keeping her whole damn six month relationship a secret.

It wasn't that she wanted to. Her boyfriend begged her and she tried to understand. She loved being with Eddie and it hurt to be a secret. She wanted to be with him so she agreed to give him time.

She felt like six months was enough time. She was growing a little irradiated and bothered. Anytime they talked about it Eddie said he was ready. But it never seems to happen.

Eddie locked the van and the two began walking towards the small restaurant. Y/N walked close by, her hand inching to slide her hand in his. Upon contact, Eddie was fast to move his hand in his pocket. Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat and added a bit of space between them.

"About time," Dustin groaned, welcoming the two to the table. Y/N sat across, moving over for Eddie to fit in the spot next to her. She wasn't surprised when he took the seat next to Dustin instead, but it still hurt.

"What's that?" Dustin asked, noticing a dark mark on Eddie's neck. Y/N felt her cheeks burn as she realized she left something behind from their makeout earlier. Dustin flicked the mark, making Eddie hiss.

Eddie quickly looked at Y/N, her smirk obvious. "Nothing."

"That's a hickey! Who are you getting nasty with?" Dustin teased

"Some random chick at the bar, drop it," Eddie hissed through his teeth. Y/N knew it was a lie, obviously, but hearing his lie made her stomach turn.

"Damn dude, massive hickey," Steve laughed as he joined the group, sliding into the open spot near Y/N. Eddie stiffened when Steve was shoulder-to-shoulder with her.

"Yeah apparently a chick at the bar," Dustin giggled, "Was it Lauren? She always looks at you after your shows."

Eddie gulped as Y/N's hard gaze landed on him. She'd been to see him play a few times, and she didn't know who this Lauren was.

"Lauren? Who's that, Eddie?" she asked, a fake smile plastered on her face

"I've never talked to her, so I don't know who she is. And it wasn't her so like I said, drop it," Eddie demanded. The table got awkward as Eddie fumed as he looked over the menu.

Y/N couldn't help but glare at him over the top of her menu. Maybe she wasn't the only secret girl in his life.

"Anyway, how is your day going?" Steve asked, Eddie looked up to see who the question was for. His blood boiling as Steve turned his body to face Y/N completely.

Dustin tried to talk to Eddie, but he was laser-focused on Steve flirting with his girlfriend.

~~~

Eddie didn't realize how big of a mistake it was to be a secret until he was hit with the reality of someone wanting her.

"DON'T RUN!" Steve yelled as the gang ran through the arcade. Eddie laughed as they ignored him, running without a care in the world.

Eddie went to walk away but Steve grabbed his arm. Eddie froze and looked down at his hand, making Steve retreat.

"Sorry, I just wanted to ask you something," Steve said. He nervously put his hands in his pockets. "You and Y/N are pretty close right?"

Eddie felt a hot rush of jealousy run through his body, just by hearing another man say her name. "Why?"

"Do you know if she's seeing anyone? The few times she's been around I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. I want to ask her out," Steve explained. Eddie scoffed at the red blush that coated his cheeks. He was blushing over his girlfriend?

"Y/N, oh you don't want to ask her out!" Eddie scoffed, letting out a soft chuckle.

"Why?" Steve awkwardly laughed. Neither boy recognized Y/N walking up to them.

"She-she-uh- she's so clingy. I've heard from all of her ex-boyfriends that she's good in bed, but that's it. She's got a boring personality. She's a bit annoying, with all her "save the planet, don't do drugs, and cigarettes are poison". You look like an independent guy, Steve. Do you want a girl to nag and control you?" Eddie asked, planting a hard smack on the boy's shoulder. Steve hissed at the connection, rubbing the skin when Eddie removed his hand.

Y/N felt her throat burn as she took in Eddie's words. It all made sense now. He was embarrassed by her, hell he didn't even like her. He was interested in the sex, that's all she was good for. She swallowed her sobs and walked off. She didn't care to hear what Steve would say. She was falling in love with Eddie and he couldn't stand her.

Eddie smiled in victory as Steve walked off to a machine. With the sudden interest in Y/N, Eddie felt the need to see his girlfriend. He didn't bother to say goodbye to anyone, heading out to his van.

It didn't take long for him to arrive at her house. He parked his van down the street and snuck over to her window. He pulled himself up on her roof, thankful it was night so no one would be calling the cops.

He tapped on her window.

She sighed as she heard Eddie at her window. She wasn't ready to see him.

"Come on, baby. I wanna see you,"

She wiped off her face and walked to the window. She opened the curtain but didn't open the window.

"What the hell do you want?" She spat. Eddie flinched at the venom on her tongue.

"Woah, what the hell did I do?" Eddie asked.

"Are you going to tell people about us?" She asked, keeping her head held high.

"Baby," he sighed, she scoffed and shook her head. She already knows the speech.

"We're done, Munson. Now get the fuck off my roof," she hissed. She closed her curtains and raced to shut off her light.

Eddie stared at his reflection as he tried to process what happened. He rapidly knocked on her window but she never came back.

"Y/N!" He harshly whispered, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching. He continued to knock but left that night with no reply.

~

The next morning Eddie was already racing back to her house.

But again, got no reply.

~~~

It took around three days for the gang to notice Y/N wasn't around. They all wanted to ask but there was this look on Eddie's face that made them scared to ask. Dustin was worried for his friend. Eddie was always moody and snippy. But now he seemed so sad and in pain. Dark bags under his eyes and his voice always sounded dry and cracked.

Steve felt a little awkward about it. Feeling like he was the cause of whatever happened.

No one in the gang was close enough to her to ask her what happened. So everyone was stuck with not knowing what went down between the two.

Eddie's eyes followed her everywhere. It seemed no matter where she went, those brown puppy eyes were warning her skin. She knew she'd suffer with seeing him at school, but she didn't think he'd be so obvious that he suffered too. She was shocked to see he was affected but she convinced herself she didn't care.

Eddie was falling apart and he didn't care to hide it. He had one amazing thing in his life and he fucked it up.

Eddie let another week pass before he got desperate. He knew he was going to look insane, but he was done. The next time he saw her, in the halls at school, he quickly picked her up and locked them in a classroom.

"Are you insane!" She hissed, slapping him as he dropped her.

"It's time we talk,"

"I don't want to talk, Eddie. I told you we're done," she went to walk past him but he stepped in front of her.

"Can I explain myself? If you knew why I kept us a secret, it might help," he pleaded but she shoved him against the wall.

Her face was close to his as she stared him down. "I know exactly why you wanted to keep us a secret."

"You do?" He gulped. He was embarrassed that he got bullied as practically a young man.

"I heard everything you had to say to Steve. So no, knowing that my boyfriend doesn't even like me doesn't help at all! I'm glad I gave you a few good fucks, asshole. I'll make sure to give Steve the best head of his life so he can ignore all the flaws about me."

Eddie growled as Steve's name left her lips. He harshly grabbed the back of her neck and shoved his lips against hers. He was possessive and jealous, reminding her he was the best she'd ever had. She fought to not kiss him back but she was weak. She melted into him and lost herself in his lips.

"No one will ever have you like I do," he growled.

She shoved him away from her. "Well to the whole world, I'm open to take."

"I made all that shit up, okay? I didn't want Steve to go after you. I got jealous and instead of telling the truth, I choked. I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't mean anything I said."

"If you didn't mean anything you said, then why am I still your secret?" she whimpered. She felt exhausted from the secrets, it was making their relationship harder than it needed to be. "I am so tired of being ignored by you. I feel used when we have sex and the very next day, I'm nothing to you. You don't want anyone to have me, yet it seems like you don't even want me." Eddie frowned as tears slipped down her face.

"Please don't cry, baby. I do want you, and I'll always want you. It's just that I'm a loser, baby. The town hates me, and I'm a held-back senior who still gets bullied by the jocks. It's embarrassing, I'm embarrassing. And I didn't want you to receive the treatment I get. You don't deserve to be treated like shit because you gave me a chance," he explained. She could see all the emotion in his eyes and she sensed all the truth he spoke. "I thought I was protecting you but I can see I did it all wrong."

"I don't care about anyone or what they think. All I've wanted was for us to be together," she whispered as she cupped his face, allowing him to press his body against hers.

"I'm sorry for everything. I love you so much and I want everyone to know. I don't want anyone to think they have a chance with you," he muttered, his lips inches away from hers.

"Then show them,"

He smirked and ran out the door. She wasn't sure where he was going to go, quickly following. He busted through the cafeteria doors and stood on a table with his dirty sneakers.

"Eddie!" Y/N hissed but he sent her a wink.

"ATTENTION PLEASE!" the room went quiet as they turned to look at Eddie. Some people whispering.

"IS ANYONE HERE INTERESTED IN THE LOVELY Y/N?"

She felt her skin burn as the attention turned to her. She begged Eddie to get done but this was what she asked for.

Eddie didn't wait for anyone to answer, "TOO BAD. SHE'S MY GIRLFRIEND!"

"Can you get down here now?" she asked, Eddie stepped down and the cafeteria went back to talking among themselves.

"That work for you?" he asked, scooping her in his arms. She laughed and nodded. He gave her a quick peck on the lips before a teacher came over to discipline him for his commotion.

"See you after detention, m'lady," another wink sent her way.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[shysuccubusstuff]

day 25: Hate fucking + Deepthroat + Agoraphilia + Dacryphilia + Gaming + Degradation + (slight) Mindbreak + (slight) DubCon? - Streamer! Kinich

Summary: The streamer company you work for decided to throw a huge party in order to congratulate the great revenue of this year, inviting only the greatest. That included you, as well as that mysterious streamer called Pixel Dragon.

Content: Kinich has this kind of alter ego (Ajaw's personality) when he streams, that is the reason why he's extra mean!! + Non proof-reader, as always.

Word count: 4,5K

Note: I've been trying to end this for so many days but I always ended up burning out so it took me so much time... I didn't even realise that I had written 4K words... Sorry for taking so long, I hope all of you enjoyed this little Kinktober!! I'm already working on some other stuff for different fandoms ♡♡ Stay tuned!

It was November, finally the time in which the great parties for streamers took place. You had been invited, of course, after all, you had been able to remain the top creator during over five months, tightly followed by that gaming streamer, PixelDragon.

The name was a bit cringy, but he had been able to quickly rise to the high rankings thanks to his great skills on many of the different games he had tried, ranging from FPS to soul-like games.

When you finally arrived, you were greeted by the smiling sponsors, taking your hand and guiding you to the darkened room, the place being lightened by the dim red lights. You took a sit close to a masked man, the man moved to the side, allowing you to sit close to him while he checked his phone. You were barely able to imagine the face underneath, his lips shinning under the red lights.

“Are you going to drill my face the whole evening?” The man kept his gaze fixated on his screen, his fingers scrolling down mindlessly.

“How did you even---? Sorry, I was just curious about what you truly looked like under the mask.”

“Well, you are not definitely getting any glimpse if you keep it like this.” He turned off his phone, putting it on his pocket and looking into your eyes, his green orbs glistening as the spotlight moved towards where you were. Outraged, you decided to get up, rapidly taking your stuff before fleeting the scene.

By the time you were back to your usual self, the party had already reached its’ highest peak, with the music booming all over the place and the floor feeling sticky form all the drinks that had been spilled. You threw yourself against one of the many sofas that were laying around the place, suddenly hitting your head against something extremely hard. You turned around annoyed, only to find a red-faced man, his hazed green eyes shinning under the red lights of the club. “Are you ok?” Your words were a bit dragged, your whole mouth feeling a bit funny as you tried to talk as normal. “Do you hear me?” You screamed to his hear, perhaps he wasn’t answering because of the loud music. The man moved to the side, his face looking slightly annoyed.

“I can hear you perfectly, no need to scream.” He furrowed his eyebrows, moving a few strands of hair that were bothering him.

“Who are you? I didn’t see you before during the dinner.” You took out your phone, scanning through the many names of people that had been invited to the party. “I suppose you’re not the one called PixelDragon, am I right? God, that dude seems like such a prick, he’s always flexing about his skills during the collabs, even when we are supposed to be friendly about them, plus, he has been keeping his identity hidden even to his own workmates, I get that he wants to avoid leaks, but it’s not like the rest of us would be such losers, even I, who kind of hates his guts wouldn’t do something so fucking low. He always acts as if he’s far too good for the rest of us and it gets me so pissed off, though, I do have to say that he does have some good points, like his great abilities, or his deep voice, and yeah, his hands may look kind of sexy while smashing the buttons but that’s all, you know?” The alcohol was definitely getting the best of you, as you wouldn’t be able to stop your yapping even if you tried. “Are you listening to me, mister?”

“Yeah, I am. I hate to say it, but this might be a skill issue, like straight up.” The man laughed out-loud, his hand moving a few strands of his hair out of his face.

“Nice one, jackass, real funny. Anyways, how come I missed such a hot dude in the diner? You were def one of the masked ones, right? Promise I won’t leak anything, not like it would benefit me, you know?” You laid your head on one of his shoulders, turning around so you could touch the small part of his chest that was exposed because of his unbuttoned shirt. “Are you trynna get someone to accompany you tonight? You will def get a good one with me, handsome…” You smiled, enjoying how he started to react to your touch.

“You sure get comfortable with some random man, what if I’m some weird sicko that is planning on kidnapping you?” His right hand moved towards your hip, caressing it as his gaze started to darken.

“Then you wouldn’t be here, this place is exclusive for those working for our company, it’s ok, I can find some other dude, don’t wanna pressure you or anything, let’s see each other later, yeah? Next time you should tell me the name of your channel, we could make a collab or something!” You got up, leaving him with his words still in his mouth.

By the time you finally opened your eyes again, you were being taken by the arms of some random man, you quickly struggled, trying to get him to let you go, “Hey, don’t know who the fuck are you, but you’re def not someone I---”, the man put his hand on your mouth, turning on the flashlight on his phone so you could see his face, it was the hot dude at the party.

“Sorry, I saw some weird due trying to take you home, I know I can also be considered a weirdo, but hey, at least we talked, I guess, let me take you to your room, I won’t try anything weird, ok?” Your body relaxed, allowing him to carry your limp body to his room, finally allowing you to lay down on his king size bed.

“Thanks, hot stuff, promise I will compensate you tomorrow…” Just as you were about to drift to sleep, a known voice resonated from the man’s phone, it was that damn PixelDragon. Annoyed, you quickly got up, the nauseas getting to you, forcing you to stop for a second before speaking.

“Why are you listening to that jackass? He thinks he is some kind of big shot just cause the president started to pay more attention to him than to those who have been more time in the company. He may have nice hands and all, together with a real hot voice, but that is all that he has, he ain’t even that good, I mean---”

“You talk too much about him for you to simply hate him, aren’t you like lowkey wishing you knew how he looked? All your yapping about how he isn’t that huge of a streamer makes you seem even more of a fan than those crazy ones that send him his panties and stuff. Bet you want him to finger you with his slender fingers real bad, uh?” Your face flushed, feeling your head even more warm than before.

“You’re def projecting, I don’t want to fuck him or anything like that, why would I want that asshole’s fingers inside me—”

“Oh yeah? Then you will have no issue with that same asshole touching your whole body, uh? I’m sure that you have already imagined it so many fucking times. Tell me, are you really that naïve that you didn’t think eve for a moment that the man with the dragon-like mask was actually PixelDragon? It’s not like the mask that the president gave me was that mysterious, but I suppose that you can’t expect nothing great from an airhead like you, right?” The guy smiled as he started to change his clothes, leaving his jacket, gloves, and his necktie on top of the small desk that was within the room. “How about we do that collab that you wanted so much? Bet you would love to gain some more attention from my viewers, right? I can do a special live, just for you, what do you think?” You stopped for a moment, I mean, you were actually just a masked youtuber, and you were only focused on mature audiences, so, there should be no issue, right? You could probably use the mask he had used during the party. You nodded, crawling out of the bed and getting closer to the setup that he had already built for the duration of the event. “Oh, I forgot, can you plug in the cable under the table? I forgot to do it, but I have to keep on preparing the stream.” Once again, you were simply able to nod, getting on all fours and going under the table.

“Hey, there’s no plug missing or something like that, are you sure---?” You covered your mouth as soon as you heard the sound that marked the beginning of the live. You hit his leg, trying to remind him that you were still under the table, he lowered his gaze, trying to avoid making it much obvious. He smiled wickedly, moving one of his hands towards his trousers, carefully pulling down the zipper of his pants together with his underwear, the tip of his cock being left dangerously close to your mouth.

“So, yeah, we had a small gathering for the company, not that important, now it’s time to finally get back to what truly matters, am I right?” He read some of the comments that were already pilling up, answering with snarky comments to some, while he simply laughed to others. How was he even able to act as if he wasn’t with his cock out? A wicked idea crossed your mind, you could suddenly get out of there, making sure that the viewers were able to see you run out of frame, thus stealing his spotlight even further. That sounded like a great idea, of course, that changed until you realised that this little plan would lead to the boss yelling to both of you. Just as you were about to try and get out, his legs trapped you, causing you to end up almost hitting your face against the raging erection. “Oh guys, wait a sec, I gotta check that everything is in order.” He stopped the live for a second, making sure to disconnect the camera and mic. “Didn’t you want to make a collab?” Your face flushed, you weren’t really sure if it was because of how you felt your blood boiling, or maybe it had much more to do with the fact that his cock looked delicious, his tip flushed with a slight red tint. “If it’s too much for you, you can simply leave, I swear I won’t say anything to no one from the company, not like it would benefit me, right?” He moved to the side, allowing you to leave if you truly wanted to. You were about to do so, but then you realised something. Wasn’t that like admitting defeat against him? He would get the upper hand, making you feel as if you had to be grateful for his “mercy”! Not on your watch, oh no, so you swallowed all the embarrassment that you had been feeling, starting to leave small kisses all over his length. “I supposed so, oh wait, let me help you with a little something.” He got up from his chair, rummaging in his suitcase and then sitting back again, he made a sign for you to turn around, so you did, your ass facing his way. Suddenly, his slender fingers were moving your underwear to the side, a small object being inserted inside your cunt. “There, I hope this can keep my precious slut in place while I work, wait for me.” He waited for you to move back to your place, his eyes filled with a certain sense of superiority.

“Shut up, you’re just making it more difficult for me, keep your mouth shut for a while.” You nagged, trying your best not to stutter as you started to feel the small device starting to move. Just then, you heard how the live started back again.

“I’m back, missed me?” He went back to reading the comments with a playful smile. “Oh, shut up, not like I spent more than a few minutes. K, now let’s try to see who will be able to join the game….” He waited for a few minutes until the results of the online roulette popped up. “Well, congrats, I’ll send you the link to the VC, hope you all are ready.” You listened to him; it was quite impressive how he was able to keep his voice stable despite having your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. “Dude, it must be real sad to see me play almost everyday and most of you are still hard-stucks, sucks to be you, uh?” His snarky comment caused the viewers to get wild, some were praising his skills, while others had gotten truly angered by his remarks, the sound of the flow of comments filled the room. You were just about to smirk at how even his own fan hated him, but your moment of bliss was suddenly stopped as soon as you started to feel how the small vibrator had suddenly moved much more rapidly than before. You clenched the fabric of his shirt, glaring at his extremely satisfied grin. “Anyways, get ready for it, promise me not to cry in the chat, I don’t want my mods to get tired from deleting your comments.” As the game started, you could perfectly hear how he was clearly cleaning the floor with his viewers, this was of course the perfect time to mess him up, right? So you did.

You started to move your tongue, slowly licking on his tip, while sometimes wrapping it over his length, making sure to let out a few noises in case that would actually rile him up, your eyes completely fixed on his face, not noticing even a single frow. If he wanted to play hard to get, then you would simply raise the stakes. You introduced his tip into your mouth, sucking on it as you used one of your hands to masturbate what was still left outside. It was then when one of his eyebrows furrowed, his lips forming a straight line as he tried to keep his mouth closed as best as he could, you were already celebrating your victory over him when you heard the sound that marked the end of his first victory, your head suddenly being pushed further down.

“GGs, next time send someone who is at least as good as me while playing with a stirring wheel. Let’s for the next game, yeah? No need for a break.” The players were once again chosen at random, quickly preparing the next game as one of his hands kept pushing your head, only releasing it when the game finally started. Your eyes were already watering a bit from the difficulty to breath, so you decided to step your little game even more, starting to take his whole length (or at least as much as you were able to manage without feeling as if you were about to throw up. His face quickly flushed, the grip on the mouse starting to strengthen, his jaw clenching and his eyes starting to darken. Despite his clear reaction to you, he was shameless enough to start to buck his hips, forcing his length further inside your mouth, not stopping even as you hit his lower stomach, trying to get him to either slow down his rhythm, or to simply give you a small break. Sadly, none of the choices were given to you, forcing your poor mouth open, his hand sometimes lowering just to carefully caress your hair.

Once again, you were soon able to hear the chat being flooded by comments after the great crushing he had done to his helpless viewers. “I gotta go now, remember to keep on playing so you all can at least hit me with a single bullet next time. See ya.” He quickly turned off the stream, his hands quickly gripping your hair. “Bet you had fun, uh? Sucking my cock while you heard my chat blowing up, pretty sure you must have been wishing they heard you under my desk sucking my cock. You must be fucking dripping, uh? Show me just how much you’re craving it.” He lend you his hand to get up, your legs almost giving up on you as you tried to stand up, his lean arms stopping you from falling. “Oh, I was sure that you were supposed to hate me, didn’t expect you to be the type to fall head over heels, but I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with someone as hot---” His sentence was cut short as soon as you hit him on the stomach with your elbow.

“What the heck is that attitude? You kept on pushing my head against you, next time I will just bite your fucking dick off, bet that would give you more action that you have ever had.” You wiped down your tears, together with the saliva that had been running down your chin. “Why the heck would you even have something so--.” You stopped before ending the sentence, wondering just what would happen if his ego got even bigger.

“So… what? Finish the sentence.” He playfully touched your hair, his big hands petting you as if you were something precious. The heat was starting to rise to your cheeks, so you hit his hand, your gaze moving towards his temporary set.

“What is the code for this mic, pretty sure it’s one of the most expensive ones, right? Bet you must be blowing up your checks uh?” You got close, tinkering a bit with his stuff, moving all that was lying on top of his desk and looking around in case you were able to find a single tip on how was he able to keep his skills on point,  “Man you’re really—”

“Look, I’ve been trying to just act as if nothing is going on, but come on, you’re so bad at acting it’s almost embarrassing. You always walk around with that huge smile on your lips, shaking your hips as if you were trying as hard as possible for all the people around you to lick you from head to toe… You enjoy the attention, right? It gets you so high to feel as if you are better than the rest. Never had anyone show you where you truly belong, guess it’s my duty to do it then.” He took you by the arm, throwing you to the bed with just enough strength for you not to damage yourself. He quickly got on top of you, his body pressing against you as his hands started to get rid of all your clothes, your blouse and your skirt being thrown to the floor, soon followed by your bra and your underwear. “Since you want to behave like a brat, might as well and treat you like one.” He suddenly kissed you, his kiss being filled with hunger, rather than love or lust, he was planning on eating you whole.

“Come on, you’re just saying that to scare me, right? There’s no need for that, just, just let me go for now, I can, I can talk to the boss, you’re just being like this because you’re trying so hard to scare me, I get it, no need to keep this any further, just---” You put your hands on his chest, trying your best to avoid his eyes as they scanned you up and down.

“Open your mouth.” Your sentence was once again cut off, the room being filled with the sound of his clothes falling to the ground close to yours. He crawled, swiftly making his way to your face, his hardened dick facing you. “Do you expect it to suck itself? Open.” He grabbed his cock with one of his hands, the tip of his cock rubbing against your soft lips. You silently opened your mouth, unable to think about anything smart to say because of the current situation. “That’s right, open wide.” He carefully inserted the tip of his cock in your mouth, a deep breath leaving his mouth from the pleasure. “God, you should really consider becoming my own if you decide to leave the YouTube thing… you have such a pretty face and your body is just perfect, I will treat you as a queen, how about it?” His voice kept resonating inside your head, almost sounding a bit too good to pass on it, well the vibrator that was still inside you was definitely not helping you to stay sane. You sank your nails into the palms of your hands, trying to keep your own mind together while he kept on thrusting your mouth. “Just like that, you’re doing so good for me…” Tears once again swelled your eyes, your nails now digging on his abdomen as you tried to get him to let you rest even if it was or a second. “Oh, it seems you’re still able to put up a fight, let’s just change this then.” He finally let you breath, coughing as you were finally able to breath, this didn’t last much more, as you were suddenly lifted by him, then letting you sit on his lap, both of you facing the big mirror that was hanging on the wall. “You just need to realise what position are you on.” He lifted your body for a moment, taking off the vibrator, slowly inserting himself into you.

“Wait! I need a second to…to adjust, it’s difficult to do this without like, actually preparing.” You let him slowly make his way inside of you, finally bottoming out. “Fuck, just what do you even--- Shit…”

“Guess I was finally able to shut that reckless mouth of you, shouldn’t you thank me?” Of course, he just refused to give you even a single moment of peace, always running his mouth even as you were clearly able to feel his cock throbbing.

“Sure, like your dick isn’t barely holding on, you talk so much shit for someone who is balls deep inside me, I may not be able to kill you in the game, but I’m damn sure I will last much longer than your sorry excuse of a dic—” Your words were cut off as soon as he lifted you abruptly, your air leaving your lungs as his tip hit your cervix.

“You really don’t have any fucking clue about when to keep your mouth shut, uh? Always answering back even when I have the upper hand… Fuck.” His hips kept on bucking against you, not stopping even as the veins on his neck pumped up from his effort of not cumming. “This is no use, fuck…” He got up, not before taking the vibrator that had been inside you, his arms still holding you from under your thigs, walking until you were quite close to the mirror. “Look at your fucking face as I make you cum, yeah? Just fucking watch.” His hips started to move again, the position making it impossible for you to grip at anything in fear of him letting you fall, still, you tried to cover your mouth with both of your hands, denying him the possibility of hearing those sweet moans that were leaving your lips. “Cat got your tongue? You’re surprisingly quiet for someone as chatty as you, let’s see if I can fix that.” The rhythm of his thrusts sped up, forcing your eyes to roll to your skull as your insides got rearranged without you being able to do anything about it. Just as you were about to cry from the overstimulation, he suddenly let you stand on your two feet, well, if not because you almost fell face first to the floor, his hands gripped your hips with strength, his fingertips leaving marks on your skin. He took out the egg vibrator he had used previously, rubbing it a bit around your entrance before carefully inserting it inside you, he then decided to play with you a little by gliding his dick up and down, his tip constantly grinding against your clit. Before you were able to say anything, he entered you at once, the stretch making you squeal as your nails once again dug into his skin.

“Sure…Sure talk a lot of crap when you have still been unable to make me cum even once, your dick is so lame—” …Well, you surely had it coming this time, maybe the previous one as well, and well, maybe more times than just the last ones. But you never learnt, apparently.

“Fucking brat, just learn your position!” His last straw had been lost as soon as he saw on one of her streams you had been non-stop laughing at his supposedly small cock and your lack of bitches. He tightened his grip on your hips even further, lifting you from the floor and slamming his hips against your tender ass, your lips parting as those lewd sounds were once again filling the room.

“St-stop! My mind is turning really weird… Give me a second please!” You once again tried to hit him as an attempt to ease the unyielding rhythm he had established. He lowered one of his hands, suddenly levelling up the small roulette that controlled the vibrations, his fingers then moving on to start rubbing your clit, a degenerated smile appearing on his face as he saw your cunt dripping and some of the juices leaving your poor hole each time he slammed himself against you. Your vision was already starting to blurry a bit by the time you felt as if he was giving you even a tiny break, even the, it didn’t seem to have any plan of stopping, not even as you could faintly hear someone’s voice and hits on the wall from the close-by rooms.

You could clearly tell that he was about to cum, his lips bucking from time to time as he tried to keep that relentless rhythm. Just as you thought he was about to cum, he rapidly pulled out, his sperm staining your cheeks and part of your lower back. “You don’t even deserve my cum inside of you, next time you’ll learn how to keep your mouth shut, brat.” He let you down on top of the bed, walking towards one of the small doors that still concealed the rest of the room. Suddenly, he was back, a warm towel being passed around your whole body, his eyes showing a slight sign of concert. “…Name’s Kinich, I forgot to say it, I’m sorry.” …Was that brat really blushing? Fuck, even you were now flushed because of his teasing… Right?

[king-craftsman]

The SwapCraft Challenge

“Dude, have you heard of this Swap Craft challenge?”

In came Josh, sweaty and tired, probably just from the late shift again Bradley could imagine. They’ve been roommates for six months and if it wasn’t for the fact that the two had a great interest in Swap Craft, Bradley could barely even imagine that they’d get along at all, it was the only thing they talked about! Bradley got up from the couch.

“No, what is it?” He asked.

“It’s like this challenge where we link our accounts on SwapCraft and then get to change something physical and something mental about each other in turns. Whoever quits first loses,” explained Josh as he continued in, excitedly showing Bradley his own phone where he could see the big bold letters themselves, “Swap Craft Challenge” written in white. A prompt asked if he was willing to ‘Enter’.

“Really?” questioned Bradley, this seemed way too good to be true.

“Yeah, like you can do all sorts of stuff, but there’s no winner. Dude, we should try it!” suggested Josh, Bradley shrugged. Fuck it, there wasn’t any other way he was going to spend the night. After only a few short moments the both of them found themselves in a two-person “lobby” for Swap Craft, with Josh just itching to push play. “Okay but one rule, no mental changes or stuff, okay? I don’t want you fucking around with my head.”

“Man, I’m not dumb enough to do something like that. Plus I bet you I can win without even needing to,” claimed Brad.

“Oh yeah? You’re on,” replied Josh as he pushed play and suddenly saw that it was his turn as he began to focus on his cracked phone. “Now what to do…what to do…” He suddenly looked Bradley over, he hated to admit it but the dude had gained some weight and packed on some pounds these last few months. It wasn’t like it was bad or anything, but it would be fun to see his funny twig of a roommate again that he saw when he first moved in - and that’s exactly what he was going to do. “Ha! Have fun!”

“Wha-” Brad stopped as he glanced down to suddenly see some of the bulges from his stomach pressing into his shirt suddenly rescinded. He hated he had gained weight and wanted to even go to the gym to lose it naturally, but it was no bother, his stomach sank and became flat like it had been only a few months ago. He laughed. “Nice! Okay my turn then.”

Bradley paused, this was a lot harder, he only really had one picture of Josh and he had taken that weeks ago when his phone had broken for the third or fourth time. But what Brad could go for was to see Josh grow taller, the guy was practically a midget being a small 5’9 when Brad himself was at least 6’3, some height was what he needed and if Josh was going to help him grow skinny then Bradley could help Josh grow taller.

Suddenly Josh saw the smirk appear over Brad’s visage and stopped when he felt his own legs churn as they began to spread out, whatever fat he had was pulled against him as he suddenly realised his own torso was also stretching out. He almost felt like he was being pulled from both sides, but not in a painful way as the small 5’8 man became a suddenly gargantuan 6’5 and a hell of a lot thinner because of it. Bradley was in hysterics.

“Oh come on, that’s not funny!” snapped Josh.

“Yeah right, hey if you don’t like it, you should quit,” teased Bradley. Josh rolled his eyes.

“Not fucking likely,” he muttered under his breath as he was just glad it was his turn now, feeling so stupid with his clothes obviously being far too short for him and glad nothing else grew. Though speaking of growth…Brad did say they couldn’t do any mental changes, but transformations never last forever and if he was going to stay skinny, why not give him a bit of a boost? Josh did some tinkering of his own as he looked up, sneering at Bradley.”Hey Brad, do you have that ten dollars you owe me?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s right here,” grunted Bradley as he began reaching towards his wallet, pulling out ten dollars which he threw to Josh and Josh could see it clear as day, a gym membership card, tucked away behind his debit card. It worked and now for the best part.

Bradley shifted as he scratched at his own chest, starting to feel a tingling spread across them as he looked down to see his chest beginning to grow, divulging into pecs that pressed against his shirt, only making it tighter as his whole torso clearly began to bulk up. His entire chest was that of a well trained bodybuilder, completely separate from the rest of his skinny body.

“What the fuck?”

“Oh well I made you skinny, only fair I make you fitter too,” chuckled Josh as he got his ten dollars, scraping it up from the floor. He ignored Bradley’s glare. “Your turn.”

“Okay fine if that’s how you want to be,” Bradley smiled as he scratched at his pecs before an idea came into mind. His smile grew wider as he went on to Josh’s profile page and began typing away. “How are you doing Joe?”

“Joe? What the-” Josh’s eyes became a stark brown in complete contrast to his once blue eyes as he blinked. “I’m doing good, it’d be better if you just quit now then.” He chuckled, yeah Joe, he didn’t know why he was confused by that, it was his name after all, Joe.

“Your turn.”

Joe wanted to have more fun, he quickly began to observe Bradley’s profile and meddled away.

“So how was work today?” asked Joe. Bradley rolled his eyes. Work was boring and he didn’t know why Josh or “Joe” was starting to ask about it now, working in a grocery sto- He blinked. He meant the gym wasn’t all that great.

“It was fine, a couple of new guys joined the gym and I showed them around,” answered Brad as his own shirt was almost becoming a literal tank top with the way that the sleeves were starting to tear from his own bludgeoning biceps that were once skinny arms but had now grown into great muscular appendages for a great beast of a bodybuilder like himself. “Aw fuck this, I’m not letting you ruin my clothes too.” Brad quickly took off his shirt, revealing his sexy abs.

“Well, it’s your turn now, Brad,” chuckled Joe. Bradley was impressed, “Joe”, still didn’t know what hit him or what was about to as work was on his mind - and why not have “Joe” fit his name correctly, instead of working at the movie theatre, he could work somewhere else.

“How was the club tonight, Joe?”

Joe got a flashback of himself suddenly ripping off his own shirt like Brad here as he remembered all the money and guys that were fawning at him over at the strip club he started working at only two months ago. Fuck, it felt good to be able to do that and show off his body. But for now he simply shrugged, didn’t want Brad to distract him, even when he suddenly started to see that his own skin was starting to grow tanned from his head to his toes.

“Okay, well I think you’re- Wait…” Joe blinked. “Why are you asking me about work?” Brad shrugged.

“You asked me,” he replied.

“Yeah but I only asked you because-” Joe suddenly blinked again as he paused and glared at Bradley. “Are you cheating?” Bradley furrowed his brows.

“No!” He said.

“I can tell when you’re lying,” growled Joe. “You know what, I fucking knew it, that’s it.”

“What are you doing?” exclaimed Bradley as he saw Joe rapidly typing and swore his heart had never beat faster at that moment (except after a tough workout).

“Winning this thing,” declared Joe as he pushed down on his phone and Bradley watched as his own feet pushed through his socks, the toes colliding with the fabric all at once before bursting a hole through them all and ruining the socks that became tattered and now barely able to adorn his large and musky feet.

But that didn’t worry Brad enough as much as the idea that any mental changes would come about - but he felt nothing for a time, and then he suddenly felt everything at once as his eyes slammed shut and sparks almost appeared when his own cock was suddenly so large that it was able to poke through his underwear.

“Woah, what the hell?” cried Brad as his hand automatically grabbed at his dick, trying to stop the flow of pre-cum that stained his legs. “Oh my god, what the hell are you doing? Don’t you have to give your intelligence to raise someone’s libido?”

Joe nodded.

“Yep, but it’s worth it, way smarter than you anyway,” grunted Joe as Brad narrowed his eyes. Two could play at this game. “Your turn.”

“My turn…Alright I’ll show you what I’ll do on my turn…” Brad muttered as he bitterly typed away, wondering what to alter, what to change when he smirked. Not only in the next few moments did Joe begin to implode with muscularity (seemingly Josh either missed the fact that you could just alter the muscle mass in the whole body for a little bit more of your intellect if you wanted to).

But suddenly Joe’s own cock was throbbing member as all his clothing was completely gone, ripped away by both his bulge and his great muscularity as he was starting to look more like the real deal himself with every passing turn. “Have fun. Your turn.”

Joe was feeling a different kind of way, he was sure that just a bit more couldn’t hurt as he laid there in the tatters of his own clothes, resisting the urge to bounce his pecs or dance to the music that had filled the room this entire time and the beat which only grew louder in Joe’s mind as he recalled the strip club.

“Fucking…Alright I’ll do this…” muttered Joe as he enjoyed the feeling of watching Brad realise his own cock had also grown far too large for his underwear, almost instantly having to be taken off just in time for Brad to see the cock grow so much more larger as it snaked by, inch by inch.

All while the rest of his own clothing was completely gone shredded by his own well, shredded abs and giant muscular thighs that continued to grow, almost doubling in size to the point where they easily increased his waist size. “Fuck…Not feeling so good.”

“What’s the matter? Gonna quit?” laughed Brad as he looked down at his own phone. Fuck, he wasn’t feeling all that great either as he wanted to see Joe cum for him but a part of him also wanted to still at least be a bit smarter than him.

Fuck it.

He hastily increased Joe’s libido and began changing his face by adding a new profile picture for him. Joe’s own face started to shift from what was once the recognisable thin visage of “Josh” to now portraying the sexy Joe Manganiello with the nose growing larger, the brows thicker, the hair slightly shaggier and the jaw becoming ever more sharper.

“Not yet,” panted Joe as he groaned and looked down. Fuck, he could barely hold it in. He hastily typed away something about Brad, starting to see him as the perfect man to mould and make as he changed his hometown to Dallas, watching the name automatically change to “Travis” now instead of Bradley whilst his own face changed.

The head grew so much more bigger to accommodate the size of his new large body and thick neck with vocal chords that helped showcase some of that southern twang whilst his lips grew thinner and spread across his face. Travis’ hairline shifted back slightly as he grew older with age, only accentuating his facial features like a fine wine and a brown beard appearing over his chiselled chin.

Joe looked down at him.

“Wanna quit now?” asked Joe.

“Aw fuck dude, I think I-” Travis couldn’t even finish what he was saying as he heard Joe moan, not himself before suddenly watching the great muscular beast cum all over himself and his phone.

Travs was barely able to keep his phone out of range as just watching that dark cock almost explode in ecstasy was enough to cause him to give in and cum over his muscular body, looking down and panting in pure pleasure as he saw his seed stain his abs. “Aw god.” Travis reached for some nearby paper towels to clean himself off and handed Joe some spare clean ones.

“Oh man I think I fucked up my phone,” muttered Joe as he saw the “Swap Craft” screen flicker before turning off at once, drowning in darkness knowing it was never going resurface.

“Aw shit, can we not quit?” asked Travis. Joe shrugged.

“Doesn’t look like it, but you can still use your phone right?” questioned Joe. Travis looked down, confused. He could see some other options, one of which he think said ‘Revert’, but he could barely understand it.

“I don’t know what the other words say, but there’s a big green one that says share, if we wanna share our result?” Travis shrugged.

“Hell yeah, do that bro!” chuckled Joe and together they set their camera up, grabbing each other by the hand and tensing their biceps for the perfect picture.

Two lucky sexy fools sending their picture off into a sea of submissions of the Swap Craft Challenge, all showing similar sexy men of all kinds, some having more than two, all showing off their body, the result of the challenge. To this day, there is still no winner of the Swap Craft Challenge.

If you want to check out more stories like this, then click here to see more TF/hypno on my Patreon.

[cranberrymoons]

hey sweetheart

prompt: meetcute at work (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rated: e (18+) word count: 896 words tags: modern au, line cook eddie/waiter steve, hooking up

welcome to Day 4 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

Steve is halfway through his first week when he meets him: the line cook with the long hair pulled back in a bun, the stark black lines of tattoos snaking up his arms, the flirty little smile that he flashes in Steve’s direction when Steve comes back to pick up Table 6’s starters.

It’s a hell of a time to start a job in the first place: mid-holiday season, no one around to train him except Robin who’s only worked there a couple weeks longer than he has and knows next to nothing about The Way Things Work.

But she’s Robin, and she’s familiar, and she knows him well enough to warn him to avoid the flirty long-haired line cook with the big brown eyes and the dimples and the million watt smile directed right at him and – 

Fuck.

“Sweetheart, you rang in Table Twelve wrong,” the guy says, leaning forward over the pass with a ticket in his hand. “This says no onions, but the special isn’t made with onions.”

Steve stares at him as he loads Table Six’s plates onto a tray. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, but only barely.

“My name isn’t Sweetheart,” he says eventually. “And so – just extra don’t put onions on it. Who cares?”

The cook raises his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side. “Thought it sounded nicer than ‘hey new guy’, but if you’d prefer that –”

“Steve,” he says. He shoulders his tray. “My name is Steve.”

The cook gives him a little smile, eyes flashing in the bright fluorescents of the kitchen.

“Alright, Sweetheart.” He tilts his chin up. “Extra no onions for Table Twelve, and you can call me Eddie.”

---

It continues on like that for a week or two: Eddie flirting, finding any excuse to ask a question about his ticket. 

Steve knows what he’s doing; he’s worked in restaurants before, and he’s fucked enough hot line cooks in his time that he should know better than to fall into the trap, but still, he finds himself drawn in, entertaining Eddie’s endless teasing and prodding and poking until he starts doing it back – little digs about his shift meal, questions about a menu item that he already knows the answer to.

“Dude,” Robin says, halfway through his first month. 

It’s rounding up on Christmas, and the place is packed, corporate groups out for holiday parties and couples on dates. 

“If you don’t stop flirting, I’m going to cut your fucking dick off,” she says. “Seriously.”

And – okay. That’s fair. 

Steve pulls himself away from where he’d been leaning over the pass, asking Eddie a question about the catch of the day that he’s already asked three times tonight. Clears his throat and straightens up. He tugs his tie back into place, claims the braised oxtail that’s destined for Table Two and clears his throat.

“Sorry.”

Eddie sends him a wink, and Steve feels himself flush.

“Please tell me you’re not going to fuck him,” Robin says as they exit the kitchen.

Steve sighs. “I’m not going to fuck him.”

---

And of course, he’s lying through his teeth.

The very next night, they’re both off work, and he gets a text from an unfamiliar number, just –

hey sweetheart 

Steve flushes as he stares down at his phone, scratching a hand back through his hair. He takes a breath.

Wonder who this could be , he texts back.

All he gets in response is a simple,

😇 

---

Two hours later, he’s flat on his back in Eddie’s bed, clinging to his shoulders and whining as Eddie fucks him so hard he loses his breath, so hard he feels like his brain is rattling around in his skull. He digs his teeth into Eddie’s skin, ankles locked around his back and not even bothering to hold back the noises that Eddie’s punching out of his chest, just –

“Fuck,” he gasps, voice coming high in the back of his throat. “Holy shit, I –”

Eddie’s mouth runs up the column of his neck, hands trailing over his skin, nails dragging sharp lines down his sides.

“You going to come for me, sweetheart?” he asks, voice low in his ear. “Show me how pretty you can be?”

And that’s – for some reason that sets Steve off, turns his skin over to fire as he grips tighter to Eddie’s shoulders, nails digging in, back arching off the bed, coming so hard he sees stars.

---

And then later, when they’re both fucked out and exhausted and Steve is preparing to take his cue to gather his clothes and make a graceful exit, he feels Eddie’s mouth skimming up the side of his neck, hand tangling in his hair, dragging him into another kiss.

A real one, with teeth and tongue and lips, a kiss that isn’t intended to go anywhere other than just to be , and his breath catches a little in his chest, hand skittering over Eddie’s back as he rolls over on top of him.

“Stay?” Eddie asks, voice quiet and hopeful and muffled where their mouths are still pressed together. He smiles, lips quirking up and drawing Steve along with him. “You know I know how to make breakfast.”

And Steve breathes out a quiet laugh, bumping their noses together. He sighs.

“As long as there’s bacon.”

[also on ao3]

[decentwritings]

Chapter 3

Summary: You’re unable to grasp the luck you have. You were raised to run from danger, to go the opposite direction of bad influences. So when you somehow find yourself right in the center of it, you discover that running wasn’t exactly what you were taught. It only took GhostFace and a pretty girl to remember that.

previous part <- -> next part

You manage to sneak off when the group disperses, jogging to your dorm to grab your shower essentials. The shower is long and refreshing, and super soapy because you believe you couldn't get rid of the horrible smell.

Once showered, you get dressed in some of your most comfortable clothes and lay back on your bed. You hope to catch a few hours of sleep before anyone realizes you're gone.

You shut your eyes, and it only feels like a second before you open them again. The sun is still up, and you roll over to check the time, groaning at the one hour of sleep. You decide it isn't enough, because it's not, and you roll back over, attempting another round of sleep.

Again, you aren't sure how long it's been when you open your eyes, and the sun is still up, though you can see its need to end the day as it sets slowly. You wake up this time because of a noise somewhere in the room. You rub the sleep from your eyes, sitting up slowly, scanning the room.

If it's GhostFace, could he at least give you the courtesy of killing you in your sleep? The urge to lie back down is heavy, but you fight it, figuring the group should see your presence at least once more today.

You take your phone off its charger and open your drawer full of junk. Your sister gave you pepper spray before your first day at Blackmore—nearly seven months ago. It's expired. But you're not sure if it's illegal to use expired pepper spray, so you pocket it anyway. You also grab the utility knife you took from your brother's pack-out gear when you helped him with a job one day. He had like ten, so you were sure he wouldn't miss one.

The knife is still sharp and has a little shine to it. You clip it to your waistband, then shut the drawer. With a sigh, you mentally prepare yourself for the day and head out of your dorm.

The halls are eerily empty, but you figure it must be exam day for most of the students. You don't bother questioning it anymore, walking down the hall as you catch up on the notifications on your phone.

Three messages from your mom, informing you of her day and one asking about yours. The last message is to call her when you get free time. You have another message from your sister, who gives you instructions on how to give your nephews (her dogs) their medication. Then you check the messages Danny has left you, which are way more than he usually sends.

Where are you?

Sam said you left

Answer your phone

If you don't call in the next hour and you're not dead, I'll kill you myself

Your cousin says the nicest things. You roll your eyes and click the phone button to call him. The phone doesn't even ring, and you hear Danny's voice instantly.

"Where are you?" He shouts over the phone and you have to pull the phone away from your ear from how loud he is.

"Good morning to you, too, dear cousin," you respond with an eye roll, exiting the dormitory. You shield your eyes from the sun, preparing yourself for a long walk to your car.

"Morning? It's nearly six o'clock," Danny informs you, and you glance at the clock on your phone. You hum, surprised; he's right. "Where the hell have you been? I called you five times."

You run across the street, avoiding cars coming down the road. You ignore a honk from one of them, raising a peace sign at the driver before walking off.

"Dude, I didn't sleep last night," you say, reminding the man with a huff. "I don't sleep, I get cranky. And me cranky is basically GhostFace without a mask," you shake your head.

The line is silent for a long minute, you check to make sure he's still on the line.

"That's not funny," Danny says eventually.

You shrug. "I wasn't trying to be," you mutter, glancing at the strangers waiting for the light to change beside you.

The whole being suspicious of everyone is becoming second nature really quickly. You just hope it doesn't turn into paranoia.

"Look, I'm heading over to pick up my car and then going to your place," you inform him, finally able to cross the street. You pass by a bodega and are really tempted to go in and get yourself a sandwich. With self control, you don't and continue your walk. "Relax. Tell your girlfriend to calm her–"

"Don't finish that sentence," Danny interrupts, voice firm.

You raise your hands in surrender, passing an alley after peeking in it for anything lurking. It's broad daylight but you never know, right?

Danny orders you to stay on the phone with him until you're at your car. You ramble about random things, and you can tell he's not listening with the constant "mmm-hmms" he gives you. You don't mind, finding it endearing of his worry for you.

You gasp at the sight of your car, finally earning his full attention.

"What?" Danny shouts, worried.

You practically skip over to your car, unlocking it as you do. "My baby," you sniffle, close to tears. "She's okay," you whisper, relieved.

The line goes silent again.

"You're an idiot."

You shrug, hopping into the driver's seat. You check in the back for any GhostFaces. When it's empty, you turn back and turn your car on.

"Alright," you rub your hands together, excited. "I'm heading to your place. Do I need to pick up snacks or something?"

"No. It's not some party," Danny sighs, and you can imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just go to Sam's, stay there. Don't leave. Understand?"

You nod, then pause. "Wait, I have a class at seven-thirty," you tell him and hear him sigh again. "Does that mean I won't be able to go?"

"Go to my apartment," he says, "Now." He demands, annoyed.

You raise your hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Geez," you mutter. "Excuse me for worrying about my college education."

Danny tells you his shift ends in a couple of hours, to not embarrass yourself while with the Carpenters and their friends. You reassure him you will be nothing but a perfect guest. He doesn't comment on it and says his goodbye.

When you're at the red light, you catch a glimpse of someone in the corner of your eye. You recognize the boy as he heads down an alley, glancing at his surroundings. But this isn't the way you were; the way you were checking no one was following you. No. He was glancing around to make sure no one was watching him.

You forget for a moment you're driving, until you hear a honk behind you. You glare at the driver through your rearview mirror then look back, searching for Ethan. He's disappeared and you can't figure out how he vanished that quickly.

You shake it off, not wanting to jump to conclusions. Mindy offered a great possibility for the boy and you didn't believe it because...well, he is the shy and dorky roommate of Chad's. Which makes it the perfect cover.

Damn, Mindy's theories are contagious.

You find a great parking spot just a block over from your cousin's apartment building. You triple check to make sure your car is locked then head over to the building. The sun was beginning to set behind you and you begin to believe this day may end without any incidents.

After situating yourself at Danny's place, you go across the hall and knock on the Carpenter's door.

You see an eye through the peephole. You raise a brow. "If I were GhostFace, why would I knock?" You question, confused.

The door takes a while to open, you assume because of all the locks you hear needing to be unlocked.

Mindy appears behind the door a minute later. "Wow, you really have never seen a horror movie," she says, allowing you entry to the apartment. "A fake knock is horror movie 101."

You shake your head then shrug. "I don't see the appeal," you explain, greeting everyone briefly with a head nod. Tara offers you a smile and you can't control the smile that you return. "If I wanted to get scared, I'll just go to my sister's early in the morning. You wanna see horror? You should see her without makeup," you shiver at the thought.

Sam exits the kitchen, and you think; you think, you see her sigh in relief.

"Good, you're here," Sam says, and points a thumb over her shoulder. "We have pizza."

You nod, then pause when you hear noise occurring behind a closed door. You stare at the door then back at the group of friends. They don't seem at all fazed.

"So my knocking was concerning, but that isn't?" You question as you point at the closed door.

"Oh, that's Quinn," Chad explains, waving his hand dismissively. He enters the kitchen, leaving you with still no understanding.

Tara laughs at your expression, waving you over to join them. You notice Anika comfortable position on the couch, but don't question it. You follow Tara into the kitchen, taking a seat at the end of the table.

"She's...sex positive," Tara explains further. "She has a guy over almost every night."

You lean back to look at the closed door. The sounds practically echo throughout the apartment. You struggle to drown it out, but you try your best to as you return your attention to the table.

You do a double take, noticing a missing person. "Where's Ethan?"

"He's got a class," Chad answers, probably knowing his roommate's schedule.

You have to bite your tongue, wanting to tell them you do too but you decided not to go. Well, Danny basically told you not to go but you didn't plan on going anyway. You hated your Visual Literacy class with a passion.

"Eat," Tara slides the pizza box towards you.

You thank her, grabbing a slice. As you chew, you hear Chad scoot his chair closer to you.

"So, Y/N, right?" You nod, mouth still full. He smile then glances at Tara briefly. You aren't sure what that was about but don't question. "Tell us about yourself. For starters, why English?"

You swallow the food in your mouth. "Umm," you see the others staring at you, awaiting your response. "Well, I just need a degree. It's looking like you can't get a decent, well-paying job without a bachelor's so..." you shrug.

Chad hums. "Valid point," he comments. "Any hobbies? Do you play any sports? Do you even like sports? Ooh, do you like videos games?" He asks excitedly.

After swallowing again, you nod. "Yes, yes, yes and yes," you answer, unsure if he expected more than just the one word. And when he blinks, waiting for you to continue, you assume he does. "My current hobby is just fixing up my dad's old Toyota Chaser, still debating whether to sell it when I'm done or not."

"You're fixing a car?" Mindy leans over to ask, eyes squinting in confusion.

You chuckle and nod. "Yeah. My dad was a mechanic, so he taught me how to fix the basics," you shrug, taking another bite of your pizza. "Then I got tired of the basics, so we ended up learning how to add mods to cars. I just sold my old Subaru WRX—the most mods I've ever done on a car. She came out—" you let out a wolf whistle.

"Then why did you sell it?" Tara asks, the question clearly on everyone's mind.

You suddenly lose your appetite and set the rest of your pizza down on a napkin. Clearing your throat, you shrug. "Needed the cash. Where's your bathroom?" you ask, standing up to avoid more questions.

Sam furrows her brows. "Second door on your right," she answers gently.

You give two thumbs up and head in that direction. Once you're out of earshot, Chad looks at the group.

"Nice job, Tara," he says, shaking his head with a scoff. "You scared your crush."

Tara narrows her eyes at him. "It's not a crush."

"She'd have to actually interact with them for it to be anything," Mindy huffs, only to get a kick under the table. She winces and rubs her leg with a frown. "I'm just saying, you practically begged Anika to invite them to the party and you didn't even give them the time of day."

"At least we know you two have the same type," Chad quips, pointing between Mindy and Tara as he grabs another slice. Mindy giggles at his remark, the sisters' reactions more amusing than expected.

Tara hides her face in her hands, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, you're struggling to recompose yourself. Lately, you haven't had time to process what happened almost a month ago. The past couple of hours have been a rush of emotions, full of firsts and new friendships. You splash cold water on your face, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Tara's question about your car stirred up feelings you've tried to suppress, forcing you to confront something you've been avoiding. Your sister has been handling it better–sort of, taking her anniversary vacation a month early, while your brother picked up a huge job building a mansion for some millionaire in California. All of you have escaped your hometown—except your mother, who stayed behind, clinging to some connection to your father.

You take a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts away before anyone notices how long you've been in the bathroom.

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket and pull it out to see a message from Danny. He's letting you know he's leaving work and expects to arrive in about twenty minutes. He mentions wanting to grab something to eat before heading home. You reply, reassuring him that you're with the Carpenters and to be careful, before slipping the phone back into your pocket and exiting the bathroom.

Anika waves at you from the couch, but her smile falters when she sees your expression. "You alright?" she asks, patting the spot next to her.

You sit down beside her with a sigh, your eyes flicking toward the muted TV. The news is on, and it strikes you that this is the first time in years you've actually paid attention to a newscaster. "It's been a crazy couple of hours," you say with a shrug. "I also think this is the longest I've been outside the dorm in a while. Feels weird. Is New York always this packed?" you ask, adding a hint of playfulness to steer her away from worrying.

Anika shoots you a knowing look but doesn't push. You can tell she plans to ask later—and you know you'll have to face it then.

Your attention is suddenly drawn to Quinn's room. Her screams grow louder, more intense than before. You share a glance with Anika, and without exchanging words, you both know what the other is thinking. But neither of you says anything, turning your attention back to the TV, both silently choosing to stay quiet for now.

The TV is muted, but you find yourself reading the captions to keep your mind busy. Then, your phone vibrates again. This time, Danny's calling. You excuse yourself and stand to answer.

Before you can say anything, he shouts, "Get out, quick!" You pull the phone away from your ear, startled by his volume. "He's in the apartment! Tell Sam—"

A sudden, heavy thump against the apartment door makes you freeze. Instinctively, you turn toward the sound as the others rush out to join you. Another thud shakes the door, rattling the locks and hinges with each blow.

The door rattles violently, each strike louder than the last. You freeze for a second, unsure of where to move first, before Sam takes charge. You want to hide, run but you're frozen where you stand.

"Everyone get back!" she commands, pulling you behind her. Her eyes dart to the nearest weapons—a lamp, a chair—anything within reach. Tara's fingers curl around your arm, tugging you back toward the windows.

The door splinters as the locks give way, and a large figure forces his way into the apartment. Your heart pounds in your chest as Sam rushes forward, grabbing the nearest heavy object—a bat leaning against the wall—and swings without hesitation. Your hand itches to reach for the knife on your waist but you think its just a pin compared to the knife GhostFace has.

You're suddenly aware of the grip on your arm, and its Tara's, who's staring at her sister in worry. It was obvious to you that Sam took the big sister role seriously, but to see how serious she takes it makes you summon that bravado from hours ago. You thought it was all used up but apparently its still there.

You grab your knife and flick it open, rushing forward to help Sam. The adrenaline surges through your veins, pushing you forward. Sam swings the bat again, but the intruder anticipates it this time, blocking it with his forearm before shoving her back.

Sam shoves you hard, her voice full of urgency. "Run!"

Your instinct is to stay and fight, but Tara's grip on your arm tightens as she yanks you backward. Before you can argue or even think, Chad's hand locks around Tara's wrist, dragging both of you toward the hallway.

The echo of Anika's scream cuts through the chaos, freezing your blood. You whip around, heart pounding in your chest. They aren't behind you.

Without thinking, you come to a dead stop, yanking your arm free from Tara's grip.

"Y/N, wait!" Tara's voice is frantic, but you're already sprinting back up the stairs, adrenaline pumping through your veins, faster than you thought possible. Your legs burn, but you don't stop.

You hear Tara calling your name, but it's drowned out by the roar in your ears. Reaching the apartment again, you jump over the broken door, breathing hard, and your eyes dart around. The first room you burst into freezes you in your tracks.

Quinn is there. She lies motionless, her body lifeless, and the sight makes your stomach churn. Your mind screams at you to stop, but it only pushes you forward. You force your gaze away, barreling through the hallway.

You spot GhostFace pushing against a bedroom door. Sam and the others have to be on the other side.

Instinct kicks in.

Your eyes land on a chair near the wall, and without hesitation, you grab it. Charging forward, you swing with everything you have. The impact sends GhostFace stumbling back, crashing to the ground. His knife skitters across the floor, spinning out of reach.

GhostFace stumbles, trying to regain his footing, and you seize the chance. You dive for his knife, fingers just brushing the handle when he yanks at your ankle, pulling you down hard. You crash to the floor in front of him, and as he swings his fist, you barely manage to block it with your arm.

"Shy and dorky, my ass," you mutter through gritted teeth, seeing the surprise in his eyes through the mask.

He freezes for a moment, just enough for you to shove him off and scramble to your feet. Your body aches from the fall, but adrenaline pushes you on. Your eyes dart toward the window, and you see Danny rushing Sam and an injured Mindy into his apartment. His gaze locks with yours, filled with a plea—run.

But you can't. Not now. Not when everything you've suspected has just been confirmed.

GhostFace, however, isn't done. While you were distracted, he regains his knife, standing with that signature menacing tilt of his head, glaring down at you.

You throw your hands up in frustration. "What? I don't know what follows!" you shout, exasperated.

He doesn't respond—not verbally, at least. Instead, he lunges, slashing at you with his knife. You dodge one strike, but the second is too quick. The blade slices through your abdomen, sending a wave of pain shooting through you.

You let out a sharp breath, staggering back and clutching your wound, teeth clenched as blood seeps between your fingers. The pain is intense, but you force yourself to stay upright, glaring back at him with defiance despite the throbbing ache.

You hate to admit it, but you're glad your brother got you into anime.

"Come on, Ethan," you taunt, shifting your weight cautiously to the left as he mirrors your movements to the right. "End this now. Take the mask off."

Either he's stubborn or you're wrong, because instead of revealing himself, he lunges again, knife sparkling in the dim light. You try to evade the slashes, but your patience runs thin, and it makes you sloppy. As you attempt to block the knife from reaching your chest, it lodges into the palm of your hand instead. A scream rips from your throat, raw and uncontrollable, as pain radiates through your body.

He twists the blade, and you whimper, barely keeping your feet. The world around you blurs as adrenaline and pain mix, but then you hear it—a shout from down the hall.

"Police!"

You want to call out to the officer, to warn him, but your voice fails you. Instead, summoning every ounce of strength left in you, you push him away. He stumbles back, momentarily off balance, and when he regains his composure, you catch a glimpse of what you think is a glare beneath the mask.

In a surprising move, he dashes past you, and just as the realization hits, you feel your legs buckle. Darkness creeps in, and your vision fades as you collapse, everything going quiet.