#this probably sounds over dramatic god fucking damn it

[twistedpink]

Who’s your valentine? @/cafekitsune banner

And the spinner says…

Malleus + complicated + coparenting (modern!au, ~1000 words)

You never thought you’d stoop to this level- the dignified manager of a strip mall Spellphora reduced to this. Crying your eyes out to a telenovela with bad subtitles and an even worse plot. Totally freaking alone on valentines day. It’s your own fault, really. Maybe it’s all the karmic debt you’ve accumulated for working in a chain, or, maybe you need to manifest Malleus Draconia getting hit by a hoverboard harder! Bring on the subliminals, baby!!

That scandalously pretty (and formal in the same way a middle schooler with a briefcase is) Wand Topic goth held your teenage servicing heart and crushed it between his glossy acrylics.

You’re taking it back,, The hangouts, the free samples, and active use of your fucking email for anything but work! It’s all going in your flippy top Kuromi trash can (curtesy of he who shall not be named), and out of your stupid head!

Your notes app is full of amateur poetry and movie recommendations that you would never watch by yourself, because they’re all dumb and you hate it. You hate the whole five pages! But he made them good in the moment. With his cheating fairy makeup magic and inappropriately expensive earrings- he could make anything sound good. Why are all your situationships so profoundly dramatic and sad? Has no one heard of the casual fling to fifty year marriage pipeline??

At this point you wish he hexed you, then your insurance would fund some old fashioned retail therapy, but on your fourth Valentine’s Day alone it hits you. Maybe your shitty ex wasn’t that shitty. God, maybe he was right! All those burnt vapes gave him the clairvoyance to yell a prophecy at your kiosk before he stormed off with a barely safe amount of clearance lipgloss-

“You’re the problem”. (Subtracting the colourful language, obvi) And the only respite for your five month celibacy streak is the freezer burnt ice cream you’re shoving down your sorry gullet,, It’s not like it matters! If you get your way, he’ll never show his face again. As anyone in your position would, you sigh melodramatically into your teeny-tiny living room.

it feels so good that you dare doing it again, despite your uppity next door neighbours.

And the third one (which was going to be the best!) is cut off by a clunky knock at your storm door- it’s way too rainy to get mugged by the knee knocking cartel, but you open it anyways on the off chance Amazon has a gift for you. You cross your fingers for a hunky delivery man, ready to whisk you away from Netflix and mope!

But it’s not, because it just so happens goths are historically terrible at not moping- You look the soaking wet, insufferably sexy Malleus Draconia top to bottom in feigned judgement. From the tip of his embroidered Nurse Martens to the peak of his ebony horns catching rain like a Soda bottle to condensation, and back down to his hands cradling a travel crate like his life depends on it.

Damn, you’d still let him hit no matter what Cater says about his “Victorian girdle”..

“If I may join your evening to share it’s warmth with Gao-Gao, he would be quite grateful.”

And because you’re an aching hearted freak for wittle wizards (totally not to resolve your aching loins) (or the satisfaction of putting that self Defense baseball bat in action), you welcome the guys in with hospitality that would make Snow White weep

“Uh.. Duh! Sure, whatever. I have fresh towels. You probably still know where they are, haha..”

He gives you a grateful nod when you step aside, and the way he unfurls to full height after hunching over his precious cargo is always monstrously hot. You send yourself scrambling for the space heater (still very much vibrating from the inside, with a little ice cream crusted on your lip), no matter how embarrassed you are, Gao-Gao does not deserve to die from the cold! Malleus told you once the gecko intends on going to Valhalla, and you insisted he’s owed it for being such a good boy! (you’re also inclined to agree with any man that has a ninety degree jawline)

Gao-Gao nuzzles against your pinkie affectionately when you put some powdered feed into his crate. He ate three days ago- and you know that because you’re his pet sitter. Holding onto the little guy was easy when Malleus was away- but on pickup when his little brother showed up he thanked you. Said that Malleus didn’t have any other friends, and you couldn’t just leave him to the “adult loneliness” wolves.. So you hung out with him for awhile, and he only got cuter. That’s where it exploded in your face.

It was never his fault. You just got a bad case of the feels- on a little work party when you got hammered, Malleus took the brunt of it. Cater cheered you on in your sexless, drunken rage so well that you just blocked the guy,, And you have no idea why he’s here now.

“So,,, what’s wrong? Why’d you show up?”

“I understand I was unable to text your phone, but we had scheduled a “hanging out”, and now we can resume watching cinema! Gao-Gao is very excited with the prospect.”

You let the silence linger- and not to be mean, either. You’re just marinating in your drunk stupidity. Poor Malleus has no clue what’s going on! His own phone goes out all the time, and it’s not like you canceled, or even officially quit.. This is the worst. Not even your last breakup (pretty bad), or telling Cater that he was demoted (he literally asked to step down. Still sucked) measures up. THIS is rock bottom.

But, you’re used to being on the bottom. From scraping your way out of college only to land some mall-cop ass job better suited to someone in their teens, and all those infamously bad guys you’ve groveled to. Only Malleus (sweet, old man in a young body Malleus) bothered to spend the time reteaching you that you deserve to be spoiled- you deserve friends, and fun, and so many more pet sitting gigs with pintrestable animals.

You’re worth it. Even if it’s complicated, even if you can’t have him the way you want right now, you’ve got the rest of your life to pull it off!

(And to unblock him. That’s probably a good idea.) So for tonight you’ll enjoy the temporary simplicity, and have an unforgettable time with your best friends.

“Yeah! Let’s totally watch some “cinema”, Mally. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Ah! A Happy Valentines to you as well!”

God this is scary!!!!!!!! I’ve never done an event before, so please leave some comments abt your feelings with it! Much love, thanks for reading <3

(My amazing beta reader @/Echosofmortality helped SO much with getting this published!)

[burning-sol]

People in the replies are being SO fucking annoying and it's really hurting me as a victim of gaslighting myself, so I feel the need to comment. NOTE: this analysis may not end up being accurate to the situation, but I feel it's important to say because nobody here seems to understand what being gaslit is like.

I notice that a lot of people are commenting on OP's "attitude" when I don't actually see an issue with the attitude, OP just seems to the point and blunt about things, which I see as being the opposite of an issue. If someone says something about you that is wrong, why would YOU be in the wrong for stating what the truth is? I have some memory issues myself and have never felt offended or needed to be coddled just because my friend told me I misremembered something about them. Nor do I double down and get mad if they appear to have changed their mind on something. You say OP is insufferable as if OP isn't the one who is being compromised here by having to defend parts of their fucking identity.

Maybe you feel OP has an attitude because the examples that were brought up are "childish" or "inconsequential" when that's textbook gaslighting at its best. Gaslighting isn't just about big things, it's about smaller things that make you appear like you're overreacting or being unreasonable to outsiders. "You're upset because they say you like PreCure? It's not a big deal!" The goal of gaslighting is not just to undermine the victim interpersonally, but to coerce outsiders into undermining by making their situation seem ludicrous. In my case, I started shutting down and stopped reaching out for help once everyone around me made it clear they didn't understand or thought it was silly.

Continuing from that point, I want you to notice that both of these examples have something in common I've already pointed out. ALL the examples target a part of OP's identity. "You like blueberries." "You don't like dogs, so you don't like anything dog related." "You like PreCure." These aren't just disputes about random things, it's constant attacks on someone's cohesive sense of identity. The amount of damage that this does carried out over a span of time is difficult to articulate. You feel frustrated and helpless, unable to push back against something that should be objectively true.

Also note that the gaslighter is being VERY specific about the dates, which is incredibly odd behaviour to me. In OP's case, they brought up tangible, objective evidence (a recorded discussion) of what was true about the situation, and then the other got mad that they were proven wrong by something that is OBJECTIVELY correct about something they SHOULD have known. Meanwhile, the other doesn't show proof while apparently being able to state exact details about events. If these statements aren't true, THAT'S OBJECTIVELY GASLIGHTING... And if they are, it's still emotionally abusive to commit to this behaviour, to I assume "prove a point" because someone pointed about something YOU SHOULD REMEMBER, AND WAS TRUE... THAT'S NOT NORMAL.

Next, some of you probably don't go looking into the replies for these posts.. So I want to point out this tidbit from OP. This next section is gonna cover some different points that are red flags for me. NOTE: it's possible it's just a coincidence but I need to point it out because IT'S IMPORTANT!!

"I just noticed she turned like that when I started therapy."

Now some of you may not know this, but often when victims reach out for outside help, this is when abusive people start showing off their most controlling behaviours. Outside people have the capacity to give comments on the situation that aren't being manipulated by them, they don't have emotional attachments to the person like the victim does, which threatens to bring to light what has really been transpiring between them. So you can see why I find this correlation to be concerning.

And note, that once victims are able to engage in healthier relationships or seek said therapy, it becomes easier for them to notice themselves if they're in a manipulative relationship, even if nobody points it out to them. Especially if the form of abuse is similar to anything they've experienced and had the time to process.

And third in this subsection, victims are likely to be victimised more than once and can be victimised by several people at once. Toxic people may appear to be more friendly and reliable than others if you have someone who is much worse in your life by comparison. I have no idea the background of the friendship, but again I'm just noting things that are important.

7. Lastly, toxic relationships can be confusing to experience. People who hurt others may, in fact, be experiencing a reality where this behaviour makes sense and they DO feel like they're being "gaslit" by their victims. They can have an internal reality where the events make sense and they're the real victims.. And that still doesn't make it okay. I don't know what the deal with OP's friend was, but I'm glad that they're out of their life. It was clearly a bad friendship to be in that was damaging, and you don't have to stick around with someone even if their toxic behaviour is understandable. Maybe they're not AN asshole, but they are THE asshole here.

CONCLUSION: As a victim myself it honestly nearly brought me to tears reading some of these messages. I know it's not anybody's fault for not being able to recognise this sort of thing, but it was disappointing to read others calling someone an asshole because someone couldn't phrase their wording in a palatable way or brought up examples that seem absurd. I wouldn't want any of you to be my friend.

If you still don't understand me or think that I'm being overreactive, that's fine. I hope you don't understand what it's like. Ever.

Am I the asshole for using old conversations to confront someone?

My friend, for an odd reason, has decided to start standing her ground and giving extreme detailed explanations of events that have happened years ago. It started to bother me, because I've been with someone who would mentally abuse me and deny things happening and I was starting to see those red flags with my friend. So, she tried saying I somehow was an avid watcher of this precure meta youtuber, (I'm sorry, I think it's stupid being meta or whatever you want to call it for animes, I couldn't give two shits about it) I asked when did this happen. She started saying it was years ago and I'm confused cause I actually hate precure and think it's stupid sorry not sorry to the fans. She was relentless and tried saying I was a fan of her, which isn't true, I've only saw 3 eps of one season and hated it and never gave it another chance and now even less. So, earlier this year I told her I was playing nintendogs, a copy I got off ebay, despite us still having our copy from when the game was released. (I'm sorry everyone, we're 25+, not a bunch of middle schoolers). She got mad at me and said why am I playing the game despite being a cat person. I told her the game is fun to play and helps distress me. So I asked her how was her play through going since I only bought one off ebay after she told me she got one from ebay. She denied it, she said that never happened that I'm mistaking it. So I pulled up screenshots from discord that were from 2021 and she got angry with me. So apparently I've been trying to gas light her and use things against her, and I'm very confused since it feels like she's trying to manipulate me with events that have happened. Either way, I haven't spoken to her as much, but I think her getting mad I pulled up discord receipts is stupid when she tried claiming I was a fan of a youtuber for an anime I hate and trying to shove it down my throat.

What are these acronyms?

[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

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

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

[bigboy-lovers-unite-writes]

Imagine slapping their asses 🙏🙏

•Dutch; immediately pissed off, depends on who slapped his ass, he might push his cigar into their arm or something out of anger. Will grumble if it's his partner and shoo them away, smokes enough cigarettes after that to take away ten years on his life (it definitely made a camp deafening sound when they slapped it)

•Arthur; the most shocked face ever, just has to stand there for a minute to figure out whatever the fuck just happened. Will stumble over his words, before glaring at the person and chest bump them a few times, but secretly he's nearly popping a boner 💔💔

•John; eye twitches, trying to hold back grabbing his revolver and threatening the person. Says something sarcastic and crosses his arms like the dumb child he is. Will definitely be so damn embarrassed that he flushes as red as Sean's hair. Definitely blabs about it to Abigail later and gets huffy when she laughs

•Hosea; jumps a foot in the air and his body bends like a banana 😭 he's not mad, he'd never get mad, but he is a bit embarrassed about that. He sighs softly, tells a little story about his youth and how he would be able to handle it when he was younger as he rubbed his sore ass, then says he's too old for all that 🫶🫶

•Javier; yells out the loudest Spanish he's ever said, nearly falls forward from the shock of it as both hands go to cover his ass. Can't see it since he pulls his poncho up over his entire face, but he is burning bright red and thinking about it for the rest of the month. Will never trust being around the person again, will side eye them and cover his ass with anything if he's around them again 😢

•Bill; Two different ways this could go. One, he's drunk as a bitch and he hurls a beer bottle them and starts cursing and chasing them all over yelling about how he's no queer, even if it was a woman that slapped his ass, or he will just glare and threaten them a little bit and try to intimidate them if by god he's not drunk

•Kieran; actually stands up straight for once instead of being like a shrimp literally 24/7. Looks like a bug when you pick up a rock, eyes all wide and face flushed even pinker than it usually already naturally is. Definitely looks spaced out the rest of the day, probably can't stop thinking about it for sure

•Sean; gasps and is completely over dramatic, falling and pulling whoever slapped his ass down with him. Definitely tells everyone that the person slapped his ass, and he sounds strangely proud about it too..

•Lenny; poor boy doesn't know what to do, he's stuttering and gripping at his favorite book that he was reading, glancing around as he tried to say something. Might quirk a smile after a while, but it's whenever that person isn't around (he's so embarrassed don't do it again he can't handle it 💔)

•Micah; immediately cracks up and dares the person to slap his ass again, sticking it out slightly. He then promptly slaps that person's ass twenty times harder than they slapped his. It becomes a little game between the two whenever they see each other

•Charles; the absolute politest, might get a bit grumbly. 'oh my' is the first words outta his mouth 😭 will ask them why they did that and if it was supposed to be funny. He's like a mother in this sense, but also can't stop grinning since he actually liked it ❤️

[barleyo]

BARELYYYYY write another daddy Leon fic, AND MY LIFE WILL BE YOURSSS

867-5309.

Real Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: this fic is shitty and short, sorry ^_^ i literally have no drive or desire to write anymore, idk what's going on with me. probably some type of brain worm! but i thought i should at least try to get something written :3 (ily whoever knows what song the title is referencing)

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), phone sex, age gap (21 and 50-ish), mutual masturbation, no actual sex, idk dude i'm not sure what i was going for with this

Wordcount: 719

!!! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT !!!

"Little note wasn't lying," Leon said into his phone, sitting in his car near the back of the bar's mostly empty parking lot. "What's this about a good time, doll?"

It was too late for him to be out like this. Too late for him to be this far from sober. Too late for him to be calling some random number that was stuck to the urinal partition. And, of course, it was much too late for him to be this horny.

"Depends," a voice, your voice, spoke on the line. "What kinda night is it, mister?"

Thank god he was drunk, or else he would've heard right through your overly sensual, fake tone. Thank god you were stupid, or else you would've known it was him right from the sleazy nicknames he used.

"Tonight?" 

Dirty fucking man. His hands were practically already in his pants. Roughly palming at himself over his tented jeans to the sound of some mystery broad's voice. 

"It's a real good night, babydoll. I think you could make it better though." He pulled his zipper down, cock pulsating desperately. 

You giggled on the other line, absolutely drowning in the sudden flush of attention. That's why you slipped the damn sticky note with your burner's number into the men's room all those nights ago, hoping some horned up man old enough to be your dad would ring your line and validate you. Little did you know, that man would truly be your dad. 

"Sounds like you could use it. I don't mind 'chatting' for a bit," you said, hand finding its way all over your body. "Tell me, y'touching yourself already?"

"To a voice like yours? Of course I am."

Leon freed himself from the confines of his pants, eyes shifting anxiously as he looked around the sparse parking lot. He was a grown man, he'd jerked off to hotlines and voices on the phone all the time. In public, though? New territory completely. 

He squeezed his shaft, feeling it pulse in his hand. Thing had a heartbeat of its own at that point as it practically begging to catch some friction and relief. 

"Glad you called," you said, sliding your panties off while you spoke. You tossed them in the corner of your room mindlessly. "I've been waiting for someone to find that little note."

Leon opened his mouth to respond when he heard a soft moan escape your mouth. That was enough for him to start. He wanted to take it slow, to enjoy himself, but who was he kidding? He was a needy fucker and he wanted to cum ASAP. 

"What'cha doing right now?" he was finally able to ask, swallowing thickly as he pumped his length. "Using those cute fingers, doll?"

You hummed through an over exaggerated moan, dramatizing and putting on a show for your 'mystery man.' 

"Sure am," you said, finger curled, reaching your g-spot the best you could with the limited length it had. "But it's not as good as the real thing."

He could practically hear the pout in your voice, and it drove him crazy. You sounded like a bratty little baby, just his type. 

"Awh, aren't you a poor thing? Bet some older cock would do you good, huh?" 

He heard the squelch of your cunt through the phone speaker. It picked up the sound of your palm hitting your clit, and the little gasps of air you let out each time you slammed your fingers in.

"Guess so." You bit your bottom lip, holding back an excited squeal at his words. "You offering?" 

Leon chuckled dryly, watching the tip of his cock weep with pre as he stroked himself. "Oh, someone's eager. Sure," he said, amused smirk on his face as he started to near his climax, hand still working furiously over his cock. "I'm offering. I could use a cute thing like you, anyway. It'll be much better than just hearing ya through the phone."

"We'll see about that," you teased, phone clicking off of the line just as he started to cum. 

(XXX)-867-5309: *sent location* 

(XXX)-867-5309: pull up ;)

Wait, that address? That was his house...

"Fuck."

Leon's head fell back on the car seat headrest, brain going a mile a minute. Hand still covered in stray spurts of cum.

"Fuck!"

[solarmorrigan]

“You know, you’d probably be more comfortable in bed.”

Steve groans. Quietly.

“I’m gonna take that noise to mean, ‘Yes, Eddie, you’re so right, I should take my sick ass to bed!’, to which I am going to say, ‘Thank you, Steve for acknowledging how right I am.’”

If Eddie’s plan is to irritate Steve until he manages to get up off the couch and shamble himself to their bedroom, he’s on the right track.

But the thing is, Eddie is right (unfortunately) – Steve knows he’d be more comfortable in bed. The couch is too short and the cushions are too worn and the seats are just a little too narrow for him to really relax. But at the same time, the flu is trying to murder him, and he’s got a fever, and everything aches, and he doesn’t want to move.

Rather than explaining any of this to Eddie through his sore throat, Steve instead grumbles, “Your impression of me sucks.”

“Well, I’ll work on that while you’re resting,” Eddie drawls.

Steve manages a faintly agreeable-sounding noise and then pulls a throw pillow over his face.

“Steve,” Eddie says.

Steve doesn’t move.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again.

Steve is still not compelled to move.

“Steeeve. Come on.” Eddie reaches out to poke Steve in the side, who belatedly raises a hand to swat him away.

“Don’t wanna move,” Steve mumbles.

“You’re never allowed to call me dramatic again,” Eddie says.

“Mph,” Steve replies.

He hates being sick – really sick, the kind that his body just won’t tolerate pushing through. If he can’t pretend to be well, he feels he has no other recourse but to be dramatic.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Eddie offers. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

Steve snorts. “Yeah, sure.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Eddie declares, and Steve has just enough time to pull the pillow off his face and look up before Eddie is scooping him up off the couch.

“What the fuck!” Steve shouts, arms locking almost instinctively around Eddie’s neck as Eddie gets one arm settled beneath the crook of his knees and the other around his back.

“Relax, we’ll have you in bed in no time,” Eddie says, swinging around to face the living room door with a grunt and trundling forward.

“You’re gonna drop me,” Steve says, winding his arms more tightly around Eddie’s neck; he’s pretty sure no one has picked him up or carried him anywhere since he was maybe eight years old.

“Ye of little faith,” Eddie replies, only slightly strained.

“Me of exactly the right amount of faith, which isn’t a whole damn lot, no,” Steve insists, ducking forward when Eddie lists a little too close to one of the hallway walls.

“You’ll be fine,” Eddie says. “I’m not gonna drop you.”

They reach the bedroom door and, as he’d promised, Eddie doesn’t drop Steve.

He does, however, whack Steve’s head on the doorjamb.

And then he drops Steve.

It doesn’t end up being much of a fall; Eddie only loses his hold on Steve’s legs, and with Steve’s death grip around Eddie’s neck, he mostly just lands awkwardly on his feet before tumbling down onto his ass with a thud and a quiet, “Ow.”

Eddie is on his knees beside him in an instant. “Holy shit, I hit your head.”

“Yeah, thanks for that. My head was the one part of me that didn’t hurt,” Steve grumbles, rubbing behind his ear, where his skull had connected with the doorframe.

“Oh my god, I hit your head,” Eddie says again.

Steve blinks at him. “Yeah, we established that. Did you hit your head, too, or–”

“Shit, shit, are you dizzy? Is your vision blurry? Wait, fuck, you’re not wearing your contacts – are things blurrier than normal?” Eddie places his hands on either side of Steve’s face and stares into his eyes, as if he’ll be able to tell that way if Steve’s brain has finally been knocked loose. “Do you feel anything, like, swelling? Bleeding? Leaking?”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t feel that sort of thing happening,” Steve says, and Eddie’s face crumples.

“Shit, you’re right, I should take you to the doctor,” Eddie declares, moving to stand up.

Steve grabs him by the arm and pulls him back down. “Eddie, I’m fine.”

“No, your brain could be leaking or some shit, and you’re gonna have, like, an aneurism, and you’re gonna die, and it’s going to be all my fault because I hit your head and I killed you,” Eddie rambles, shaking his own head.

Steve isn’t sure if any of that is even correct, but he’s willing to bet Robin has been sharing her worries about Steve’s head trauma with Eddie. “That’s not–”

“Your head is the one part of you we really can’t afford to hit!”

“As opposed to the rest of me?” Steve asks, one eyebrow raised.

“If it comes down to it, yeah!” Eddie bursts out. “Do you even know how many times you’ve hit your head?”

“Are you asking because you don’t know, or because you’re afraid I don’t remember?” Steve asks drily. “Because you weren’t even there for most of those times, man.”

“It’s not funny,” Eddie says, and he’s definitely trying to sound stern, but he’s verging a little bit on whiny; he seems like he’s starting to calm down, since Steve has so far failed to collapse and die.

“Okay, then, seriously, Eddie – I’m fine,” Steve promises. “You didn’t even hit me that hard, it barely hurts.”

“Steve, I love you, but you have a severely skewed sense of pain and should not be trusted to rate it on your own,” Eddie says.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Fine. Here,” he grabs one of Eddie’s hands and pulls it around to where his head had hit the jamb, “feel. Are there any bumps? Cuts? Anything seem out of place?”

With a frown of deep concentration, Eddie runs his fingers gently from the top of Steve’s skull to the base, occasionally pressing a little harder, but never hard enough to hurt.

“Good?” Steve asks, once Eddie’s had a minute to feel for himself.

Eddie’s shoulders slump. “I guess.”

“Ah, don’t be disappointed. Maybe it’ll be a concussion next time,” Steve offers.

Eddie shoots him a wildly unimpressed glare. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” Steve decides, but he takes Eddie’s hand from his head and brings it around to press a kiss to the back of it.

There’s definitely a smile ticking at the corners of Eddie’s mouth, but Steve doesn’t point it out.

“Do you want some ice, or something?” Eddie asks, and Steve shakes his head.

“What I want is to walk over to the bed and lie down, and I want you to come with me,” Steve says. “And in an hour, I want you to bring me more Tylenol and some of that really good tea that Joyce sent over. Deal?”

This time, Eddie does smile. “I think I can handle that.”

Steve smiles back. “Good.”

They get themselves situated, Eddie at Steve’s back with an arm slung over him, a single blanket pulled up to their waists (“Pretty sure you still have a fever, sweetheart,” Eddie had insisted. “You’re gonna cook yourself to death if you cover up.”), and in the dim, sleepy light filtering through their curtains, Steve presses back further into Eddie’s chest.

“I like that you care so much,” he says quietly, and Eddie squeezes him a little more tightly.

He shifts enough that he can press his lips to the spot where Steve had bumped his head. “Always will,” he murmurs, and hell if Steve doesn’t believe him.

[Prompt: Bridal carries]

[bloodibambiidoll]

All You Have To Do Is Ask

(Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader x Eddie Munson)

Summary: Ever since your boyfriend Steve found out that you lost your virginity to your friend Eddie he can’t stop thinking about the two of you together, the fantasies of you and Eddie tangled together running through his mind on repeat. It starts off with just the two of you but when the fantasies start to evolve and Eddie is touching him too, he doesn’t know how much longer he can take it. WK:9k (idk how that happened)

Warnings: Modern AU, Everyone’s in their mid 20s, Kinda fuck boy Eddie in the beginning, Steve is having major bipanic, Dom!Eddie, kinda Sub!Steve, Sub!Reader, handjobs, oral (both m & f receiving), facial (Steve cums on readers face), cum eating, unprotected sex, threesome, choking, hair pulling, pining all around, kinda angst because Eddie loves reader and thinks it’s one sided, but it happy endings from me always! I think that’s it? If I missed any please lmk! 18+MNDI

A/N: Okay this one took me forever because I kept changing my mind about how I wanted it and I’m still not obsessed with how it turned out but thank you to my lovely betas @bimbobaggins69 @lilthbunny & @reidsbtch for hyping me up, I probably would’ve scraped this entire idea if it wasn’t for you guys.🖤

It was a hot summer day and Eddie was over at you and Steve’s apartment complex to take advantage of the pool and if he didn’t know any better he would think you were trying to torture him. You were laying on your side on one of the lounge chairs in this little black bikini and no matter how hard he tried to focus on anything else his eyes kept wandering back to the way your tits were squeezed into the top and the way bottoms fit your ass perfectly.

Then there was fucking Eddie, sitting on the chair across from you dramatically telling a story with his hands. He was shirtless and he had pulled his shaggy locks into a low bun. Droplets from it still being wet dripped down his chest and Steve found himself wanting to lick it off, chlorine be damned.

The way the water and sweat made his skin glisten made Steve think about him being sweaty in other situations.

Like you on your hands and knees while Eddie railed you from behind. Eddie between your legs eating your pussy like a man starved. Or you with your mouth stuffed full of Eddie’s cock, drool dripping down your chin from gagging. The scenes have been playing out in his head like a movie he couldn’t seem to stop watching. He was starting to feel like he was losing his mind.

It all started a few weeks ago when Nancy, Robin, and Jonathan came over to you and Steve’s. You were all sitting in the living room having a few drinks and passing around a blunt Eddie brought when the topic of how everyone lost their virginity came up.

Obviously when it came to Nancy’s story, she didn’t go into detail but her bringing it up in any capacity was enough to make Steve feel a little awkward. But that feeling didn’t last long, Eddie’s story brought on a whole different set of emotions.

“I lost mine on my sixteenth birthday, I had just got the van and I took this really awesome girl out to lovers lake. I wasn’t even expecting anything, we had been close friends for a while and I didn’t think she thought of me that way. But she straddled me and told me she wanted to give me her virginity for my birthday. I remember being such a fumbly idiot because I was so surprised but she was so sexy and confident about it. Honestly the best possible way I could’ve lost it.” He looked Steve in the eyes and smirked like he knew something he didn't.

“Oh my god Eddie! You make it sound like it was so romantic we bumped heads the first time we tried to kiss and then you spent almost 5 minutes trying to get my bra off because you were determined to do it yourself ‘for practice’” You giggled and smacked him on the arm.

“Wait… you guys?” Steve felt his mouth go dry because you never told him this, granted he hasn’t told you about how he lost his virginity either, but still, it seems like this would’ve come up considering how often Eddie is around now.

“Still wouldn’t change it for the world princess. You’re forgetting the part where we went back to my trailer and I made you scream my name all night long.”

“Oh my fucking god Eddie… shut up.” You laughed as you took the blunt from his hand to take a pull off of it.

Steve felt his cheeks grow hot, but not for the reason he was expecting. Normally he would feel jealous to some extent that the guy his girlfriend lost her virginity to was sitting in the living room of their shared apartment telling the story like it was the best night of his life but something about the way Eddie was talking made him blush.

“To answer your question Steve, yeah we did, and not just that time.” Eddie took a sip of his beer, a bit of it not making it into his mouth causing it to drip down his chin and for a split second Steve thought about licking it off... Wait what the fuck?

“Were you guys like… together?”

“No honey, we were just friends with benefits, we still went on dates with and saw other people. But neither of us found someone good enough to keep around, until I met you.” You smiled sweetly at him, pushing back a piece of his hair that came out of place.

“Best friends with benefits, thank you very much. But for me I don’t think I’ll ever find someone good enough to keep around, I’m good on all that lovey dovey shit. Speaking of, this has been wonderful my dear friends, but alas, this girl I've been talking to sent me a nude and asked me what I was doing over an hour ago. So I must bid you all farewell.” How bowed, exiting in a typical Eddie fashion, leaving Steve feeling more confused than he ever had in his life.

The night went on without it being mentioned again, but it was all Steve could think about, even as he laid in bed trying to fall asleep he couldn’t shake the visions of you and Eddie tangled together.

The fantasies keep evolving beyond Steve’s control, at first it was just you and Eddie in various states of pleasure. The first fantasies were focused on you, the way your eyes roll in the back of your head when you cum, those sweet little whimpers you make when he hits just the right spot, the way your tits bounce when you ride him… which were his regular fantasies but the only difference being Eddie was the one fucking you instead of him. Then they started to shift, his mind started to focus on the way Eddie’s hands would look on your body, the faces and sounds he might make, what his cock would look like slipping in and out of your tight wet pussy. They shifted again when he started imaging himself there with you, watching Eddie make you fall apart underneath him, maybe even joining in, fucking your face while he has a perfect view of Eddie taking you from behind. But they truly took a turn when he started to imagine how Eddie’s lips might feel against his, if his hands would feel rough against his skin from years of guitar playing, what his dick might feel like inside him and not just you.

But he didn’t think that was something that could ever happen. What if he made you uncomfortable by bringing it up? What if you thought he was weird? What if you didn’t love him anymore? On top of all of that, even if you were okay with it, he wasn’t sure if Eddie even likes guys.

“Hey baby, you okay?” Steve was snapped out of his trance by the sound of your voice, looking over at you with a look that he hoped looked semi composed.

“Huh? Yeah honey, I’m good. Just thinking about how much I love you.”

“I love you too, silly boy. You sure you’re okay? You checked out for a second there.” You sit up next to him on the lounge chair so you can put your head on his shoulder and rub little circles on his bicep with the tips of your fingers.

“Hmm? Yeah, I think I’m just starting to get a little hungry or something, I’m fine baby, I promise.” He smiles at you sweetly, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“You wanna head inside soon and get something to eat?”

“Yeah I-“

“God damn.” Eddie groans, cutting Steve off while looking at his phone with wide eyes.

“What? Another nude? You’re such a hoe.” You snort, at this point you were used to him bragging about his exploits even if it did give you a weird feeling you forced yourself to ignore.

“Yeah. This guy just sent me a dick pic and it’s fucking nice. Wanna see it Steve?” He looks Steve directly in the eyes and smirks.

Steve’s eyes grow wide and he tries his best to compose himself before speaking.

“Do I wanna-? What? Why would I? Why would I want to see it?” Despite his best efforts his voice cracks slightly and he internally scolds himself.

“I don’t know.” Eddie shrugs. “Just thought you might be interested is all.”

Steve’s head is spinning, why would Eddie ask him that? Did he know? Was he too obvious? Eddie likes guys?

“I didn’t - uh - I didn’t know you liked guys.”

“You didn’t know that? I feel like it’s common knowledge that Eddie likes to fuck dudes Stevie.” You laugh knowingly at your boyfriend’s reaction. You had noticed that he’s been acting sort of strange lately, not distant, just kind of spacey like he has something on his mind. At first you thought maybe he was thinking about breaking up with you but the amount of times he’s been railing you into the mattress lately said otherwise. Everytime you asked him if he was okay he said everything was fine, but you knew your Stevie and you knew something was up. So you started racking your brain, observing his behavior, and you finally came to a conclusion.

You started to notice the way Steve would look at Eddie when he thought no one noticed, the way his eyes lingered on his hands for just a little too long, and most of all how flustered Eddie made him. After thinking back on it you realized his behavior changed the night he found out that you and Eddie used to fuck. Then it all clicked into place, Steve has a crush on Eddie. You’ve considered bringing it up to him on multiple occasions but you didn’t want to push him to talk about it and freak him out so you just waited to see if he would bring it up himself.

But it’s been weeks now and you can tell it’s starting to really weigh on him. It didn’t help that Eddie was constantly giving him shit and not so subtly flirting with him.

“Yeah Steve, I don’t just like guys though, I love them.”

Eddie’s brown orbs are still boring into Steve’s hazel ones and he feels like he might actually pass out.

“Oh. Well, that’s uh - that’s cool man, good for you.”

“It’s really good for me, Steve. Have you ever thought about it, being with a guy?”

You bite your lip, imagining Steve with a guy, but not just any guy…Eddie. Ever since you picked up on Steve’s little crush you can’t stop thinking about them together, all of you together, really. You didn’t think it would ever really happen, but in this moment, something was shifting.

“Stevie, will you go upstairs and start the sandwiches? Me and Eds will gather up the stuff and meet you up there.” You cupped his face, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Yeah uh - I’ll go do that.” Steve sighed, relieved that you gave him a way out of this conversation, he stood up and placed a kiss on your head before trying to walk off as casually as he could with the slight boner he was starting to sport.

“Edward Munson, what in the hell was that?” You glare at him, but there’s a glint in your eye and a smirk on your lips that tells him you aren’t really upset at all.

“I was just giving him shit babe, don’t be mad at me.” He looks at you with puppy dog eyes, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

“I’m not mad, if anything, I’m intrigued, and a little turned on.”

“Yeah?” His breath picks up and his heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. It’s one thing teasing Steve but you sitting here telling him it turns you on… well that’s a whole different situation that he’s not sure how to handle. Eddie has gained a lot of confidence since he has last been with you, he feels secure in his ability to be in control and make people want him… but you? You make him feel like he’s a nervous teenager again.

“Yeah.” You nod, biting your lip. “I think it turns Steve on too… he just doesn’t know how to admit it.”

“Well that, I do know. Every time I flirt with him even a little he looks like he’s gonna pass out.” Eddie snorts, his eyes searching your face for any signs that you’re uncomfortable or jealous. But all he sees is lust there and it makes him feel like he’s the one that’s gonna pass out.

“I think… what if… You wanna test something out with me?” Your bare foot reaches out to caress his calf, your eyes are filled with fire and your bottom lip is secured between your teeth.

“What - what did you have in mind?” If it’s what he thinks it is… he might actually lose it.

“I think you know Eddie… but if you want me to lay it out plain and simple I want you and Steve to both fuck me… and each other, while I watch.” Your foot continues to rub little circles along his bare calf and he feels himself growing hard at this small amount of contact alone. He missed the feeling of your skin.

“Do you think he would be fine with that? Or even into it? I don’t want to freak him out or make him think I’m trying to steal his girl or something.” He’s tried really fucking hard to not flirt with you or look at you for too long but if he’s given the go ahead he’s not sure he will be able to hold back.

He doesn’t want to upset Steve, he likes him and not just because he thinks it’s adorable how flustered he gets when he teases him or the way he wants to take a bite out of his peachy little ass but he’s come to really like him as a person and a friend too. But Eddie loves you, he always has, he’s always regretted letting you go, trying his best to fill the void and bury those feelings in person after person. It never worked, he would feel good for a bit but as soon as it was over and sometimes even during his mind would always drift to you.

“He won’t think that… plus it’s not stealing if you share… C’mon Eddie bear… you knowwww you want to.” You giggle as you stand up, turning around to grab your towel off the chair giving Eddie a perfect view of you in your swimsuit from behind. The bottoms sat high on your ass and the way they tightened against you when you bent over made it so he could see the outline of your pussy and he groaned.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me, I swear.”

You tilt your head over your shoulder to smirk at him, leaning down to grab your bag before walking toward the pool gate.

“You coming?”

“Wait!” He quickly grabbed his towel and ran after you. “You asked me if I wanted to try something, what are we trying exactly?”

“When it happens, you’ll know. Just follow my lead.” You winked at him as you pulled the gate open, leading the way back to your apartment, making sure to swing your hips just a little extra as he trailed behind you.

Once you got inside you decided to take a quick shower to get the sweat and chlorine off of you. It took everything in your power not to let your hand travel between your legs as the warm water cascaded down your body. Your mind ran wild with the thoughts of the two boys just a wall away from you.

You exited the shower feeling pent up, so you decided it was time to put your plan in motion. You dried off before generously applying your favorite lotion all over your body, you take your hair out of the bun you threw it into to keep it dry and fluff it a bit in the mirror happy enough with how it looks since you’re hoping to get it pulled later anyways. You wrap your towel around yourself and walk across the hall into your bedroom without turning your back, but you feel eyes on you. You click the door shut gently, walking over to your dresser to find something sexy but still comfortable.

You decided on your tiniest black spandex shorts with no underwear and a little pink tank top that was thin enough to see the outline of your nipples without a bra. You topped it off with fuzzy black thigh highs and smirked at yourself in the full length mirror. Steve loved it when you wore this outfit.

You take a deep breath, hyping yourself up before exiting the room. When you step into the living area Steve and Eddie are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, both on their phones with three plates sitting in front of them on the coffee table. Eddie had changed back into his jeans but his shirt was off and Steve was still in just his bright red slightly shorter than normal swim trunks. You bite your lip as you walk around the couch and scoot past Eddie, your ass practically swallowing those little shorts stopping in front of his face for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Hi boys, you didn’t have to wait for me to eat.” You say as you plop down between them, your thighs and tits bouncing deliciously in the corner of each of their eyes.

“You know I like to eat with you baby.” Steve leans into you, placing his large hand on the sliver of skin between your sock and your thigh.

“You guys are kind of disgusting, cute, but disgusting.” Eddie says as he picks up his sandwich, taking a large bite.

“Awww don’t be jealous Eddie bear, I’m sure Steve would grab your thigh too, if you ask nicely.”

Eddie inhales a piece of his sandwich, coughing as it hits the back of his throat, he grabs his water off the table and eagerly takes a drink.

“Wha-? Why would I? What?”

“Why would you do that? Because I know you want to…” You place your hand over his, pushing it slightly higher on your thigh as you clench them together.

“I don’t - I mean -“ Steve runs his fingers through his hair, sighing. “Why are you being so casual about this?”

“About what honey?” You ask innocently.

“You know what… How did you know? Are you mad? I’m sorry. It’s okay if you don’t-“

“Steve! Calm down. I know you like Eddie because you aren’t as sneaky as you think you are. I caught on about a week ago that you’ve been acting strange ever since you found out Eddie and I slept together. Also no I’m not mad, I already told Eddie it turns me on.” You bring your leg up to rest over his thighs, giving him a perfect view of your pussy in those tight little shorts. If they weren’t black he would be able to see how wet you are.

“You told him? You guys… talked about me?” There was a panicked look in his eyes that you wanted to soothe immediately.

“Yeah we did pretty boy, we talked about how cute you are when you get all flustered… and if you want to put your hand on my thigh, be my guest.” Eddie smirked, patting his large ringed hand against his jean clad thigh. “As long as it’s okay with your lady, that is.”

“Mmm that’s okay with me, as long as I get to touch you too…” Eddie took note of the fact that you just said touch in the general sense this time, nothing about his thigh.

“Yeah - uh - as long as that’s okay with Steve too…” The thought of not just Steve but you touching him was making him squirm.

“Yeah I - um… I think I’d be okay with that, yeah.” Steve sighed, and his grip on your thigh tightened.

“Yeah?” You looked him in the eyes, searching for any signs of doubt but you didn’t find any. Definitely some nervousness, but above all you saw a hunger in him that you’ve never seen before.

“Yeah.” He said more confidently this time.

“Cool.” You smirked as you turned your head towards Eddie, your eyes not leaving his as you brought your hand to rest as high on his thigh as it could be without fully palming his cock. “Eddie.”

“Huh?”

“Kiss me.”

He feels like he’s been waiting years to hear you say those words again, because he has and he doesn’t wait another second to take your face in his hands and crash his lips against yours. Your hand leaves his thigh and snakes into his hair like it has many times before, you pull slightly causing him to moan into the kiss. You feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip but instead of granting him access you pull away, leaving him to subconsciously chase after your touch.

“Now kiss Steve.” You wrap your hand around the back of his neck and give him this look that makes him feel like he would do anything you asked in that moment, maybe even whenever you wanted. He’s never felt like that about anyone besides you.

You turn your head towards Steve, bringing your other hand to the back of your boyfriend’s neck.

“Would you like that baby? You want Eddie to kiss you, just like you’ve been dreaming about?”

“Uh huh - yeah.” Steve nods dumbly, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this was really happening right now.

Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice, he reaches across you to grab Steve’s face and pull his lips into kiss. Steve moans, the kiss feels like letting go of a deep breath he’s been holding for weeks and he wants more more more. His hands come up to Eddie’s shoulders to pull him closer and they’re practically squishing you but as you watch Eddie’s tongue dart into Steve’s mouth you can’t find it in yourself to care.

Your hand snakes between your legs and you start to slowly grind against your palm, watching as Eddie practically devours your boyfriend. Steve is letting out these little whimpers you’ve never heard before and Eddie’s groans are something you don’t even realize you missed. A breathy moan escapes your lips and it causes the boys to break from their kiss, their eyes turning to look at you.

They both groan in unison at the sight of you, your tiny shorts hugging your body just right as you grind against your palm, your tits practically spilling out of that little top, breathy gasps leaving your mouth as your chest rapidly rises up and down.

“Awww it looks like someone’s feeling a little needy? You always were such a needy little slut.” Eddie's hand comes up to your jaw and cups your chin causing you to moan at the same time that Steve’s gaps, his eyes going wide in surprise.

“What? Do you guys not play like that? Does Stevie not know how naughty his little sweetheart really is?”

Steve is speechless, trying and failing to find words, he’s never been this hard in his life.

“Tell him princess, tell him how much of a little cock slut you are.” Eddie’s grip on your chin tightens slightly, causing your lips to pout, using his hand to tilt your head so you’re looking at your very flustered boyfriend.

“I’m a little - fuck - a little cock slut.” No one but Eddie has ever made you feel this way. Steve was rough with you sometimes but he was more of an attentive lover. You never trusted any of your other partners enough to give them this kind of power over you but Eddie immediately had you slipping into that space with him like you never left. His hand leaves your chin only to wrap loosely around your neck and pull you close to his chest.

“You don’t play rough with her pretty boy? She’s really fun like this.”

“I mean I do… just not… like that.” Steve’s eyes are all over the place, Eddie’s hand on your throat, the way his arm is pressed between your tits, Eddie’s bare chest. It was like his fantasy come to life but better.

“You gonna be a good girl for us, huh princess?” Eddie's grip on your throat tightens and it causes your eyes to roll back.

“Mhm.” You nod the best you can against his grip, your head starting to go fuzzy in the best way. Eddie’s hand leaves your throat to leave a harsh slap on your thigh that causes you to yelp.

“Use your words, or have you forgotten everything I taught you?” Eddie’s voice is a growl in your ear but his eyes are still boring directly into Steve’s.

“Yeah, yes, I’ll be a good girl.”

“You hear that Stevie? She’s gonna be a good girl for us, gonna let us play with her just how she likes. I think you’re going to be learning some things about not just yourself but your girl too tonight. You want that, want me to teach you?”

“Fuck, yeah.” Steve’s hand comes down to palm his cock that feels like it’s about to bust out of his shorts.

“Alright. Get on your knees baby, now.”

Eddie releases his grip on your neck, his hands leaving you completely as he backs up to give you space to get up. You slide off the couch and onto your knees, deciding to tease them a little you crawl a few feet forward. Your tiny shirts are gripping your ass, the socks are hugging your thighs just right causing two different groans to sound behind you. You turn around to face them, tucking your legs under you as you sit on your knees with your hands folded in your lap, putting on your best “good girl” face.

You look between the two men, both of their eyes eating up every inch of you. Steve looks like he’s about to combust, his cheeks are flushed and his dick is so hard it looks like it’s about to rip his shorts open at the seams. Eddie’s more calm with a cocky look on his face but the slight dusting of red on his cheeks and the way his pants weren’t looking like they were holding on much better than Steve’s gave you a tiny glimpse of that fumbling teenage boy that you fell for that night in the van.

They were still sitting on opposite ends of the couch and you wanted them closer. You weren’t exactly sure if you wanted them closer to each other or you, but preferably both.

“Okay princess, want me to show your pretty boyfriend how you like to be played with?” Eddie leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his chin coming to rest on top of his folded hands. You wanted to bite his bare shoulders and suck his fingers into your mouth. He was so fucking hot.

“Yes, please sir.” You clench your thighs together and a whimper involuntarily leaves your mouth.

“I will baby, I’ll show him just how you like it. But first I’m gonna teach Steve how to play with me.” Eddie scoots across the couch quickly closing the distance between him and your boyfriend. His hand came to rest on Steve’s bare upper thigh. “You want that, pretty boy?”

“Yeah - yes.” Steve’s chest is rising up and down rapidly as his breath picks up, his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows and his dick twitches in his shorts. You could almost cum just looking at him. You watch as Eddie’s other hand comes up to tangle his fingers into Steve’s hair. He pulls Steve close to him, smashing his lips against his in a way that could only be described as hungry, starving even. Steve’s arms wrap around Eddie’s neck, pulling him closer, you see their tongues dart into each other's mouths and god this was hotter than you ever imagined.

Eddie’s hand inches up to palm Steve’s cock and you hear him moan into the kiss. Eddie palms him for a few seconds before grabbing him through the fabric causing Steve to break the kiss and throw his head back. This was one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen, and even though you know from your time playing with Eddie that you weren’t supposed to touch yourself without permission, you just couldn’t help yourself.

You slide your hand into your shorts, running your fingers through your wetness before bringing them up to rub circles around your clit. Eddie shoves his hand down Steve’s shorts almost in tandem with you and it only eggs you on more. You tried to hold your moans in as best you as you could, they were so lost in each other they hadn’t even noticed what you were up to.

Eddie has Steve’s shorts pulled down enough for his cock to be on display, fully jerking him off now and the sight causes you to slip up, a small whimper escaping you.

Eddie’s eyes snap toward you and as soon as he catches sight of your hand down your shorts he fucking smirks.

“Aww is somebody getting a little worked up over there? Feeling a little left out?” He mocks pouts at you.

“I mean left out wouldn’t be the right word, I’m kind of enjoying the show if I’m being honest.” You hadn’t stopped rubbing your clit, and Eddie was still jerking Steve off like it was his job. Steve was just focusing on not cumming, between the dynamic that you and Eddie were displaying, your hands down your pants, and the speed Eddie was jerking him off he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Why don’t we give you a front row seat then?” Eddie stands to his feet, leaving an edged Steve sitting on the couch trying to catch his breath. Eddie walks over so he’s standing above you, looking down at you like prey. “Steve, get over here.”

Your eyes dart over to Steve as he walks towards you looking bashful, kicking his shorts off on the way.

“Hey baby.” You smile up at him sweetly, running your hand up his thigh, your other still rubbing tight circles over your clit.

“Hi honey.” He reaches his hand down to cup your face and runs his thumb across the apple of your cheek. “You look so pretty down there… you know I love it when you wear this.” His hand runs down your neck to your shoulder where he tugs lightly on the thin strap of your top.

You clench your hand between your thighs, rocking against it as you make direct eye contact with your boyfriend. You feel a hand in your hair jerking you the opposite direction causing your eyes to snap over to the other man in the room.

“Aren’t you guys sweet? I thought we were playing rough tonight? Also were you given permission to touch yourself?” Your hair is wrapped around his fist and he shakes your head from side to side in a taunting manner. You want him to fucking destroy you.

“No - no sir, I’m sorry.” Your hands movements pause but you don’t remove it from your shorts.

“Fuck.” Steve curses under his breath, you calling Eddie sir was doing things to him he never thought it would. He thinks he might want you to call him that one day.

“I guess you’ll just have to get yourself off while I play with Steve then? Since you wanna touch yourself so bad. You remember the traffic system?”

“Yes. Green is good. Yellow is slow down. Red is stop.” You nod your head the best you can against his grip.

“Good girl. Take your clothes off.” He releases you from his hold and turns to Steve as you hastily remove your clothes, leaving the socks on because you know it drives your boyfriend crazy. “You gonna be good for me too Stevie?” His hand reaches out to run down Steve’s broad chest, stopping just before his cock. Eddie runs the tips of his fingers across Steve’s abdomen and it makes him shiver.

“Yeah, I - uh - I’ll be good…” Steve’s face turns bright red and his breath starts to speed up again. Eddie turns to you with a fire in his eyes, spitting on his hand and bringing it to Steve’s cock, pumping him slowly.

“Okay. So here’s what’s going to happen… me and your pretty boyfriend are gonna get each other off and you don’t get to touch anyone but yourself, and then he’s going to cum on that pretty little face of yours. If you’re good, maybe I’ll give you a treat after.”

He reaches for the button on his pants, unzipping them and pulling them off in one swift motion, his cock springing out directly in your face. It makes you salivate, it’s even prettier than you remember. You want to lean forward and wrap your lips around him, you want them to both shove their cocks in your mouth as far as they will fit. But you also really fucking want them to touch you so you spread your legs further and bring your fingers back to your folds, rubbing your wetness around.

Neither of them seem to notice as Eddie takes Steve’s hand in his free one, spitting on it and bringing it to his cock. Steve lets out a groan, his hips thrusting into Eddie’s hand.

“Traffic system goes for you too, pretty boy.”

Steve nods and Eddie reaches his hand out to grab Steve’s throat, pulling him in to attach their lips. You watch as beads of precum start to drip from both of their tips, their hands jerking each other off in tandem. You reach down to insert two fingers inside yourself, your other hand joining it, continuing to rub circles against your clit.

Their moans and the way they’re grabbing each other is driving you crazy, and as much as you wish their hands were on you too the sight already had you close to the edge.

“Fucking shit, you guys are so hot.” Your moans increase in volume, your fingers speeding up as you rock against them.

Eddie breaks the kiss to look down at you, that damn smirk spreading across his lips.

“Did I say you could talk, slut?” He grips your cheeks, squishing your lips together and you whimper out a no.

“Looks like we’ll just have to shut you up then.”

He lets go of your face and brings his fingers up to Steve’s lips.

“Suck.” Steve eagerly wraps his lips around the digits, sucking greedily.

Eddie looks at him and sticks his tongue out expectantly. It takes Steve a second to catch on, the feeling of Eddie’s thick fingers in his mouth combined with how fast he was jerking his cock clouding his mind. Once he did he brought his own fingers up to Eddie’s mouth, moaning around the curly haired man’s fingers at the feeling of his tongue.

Eddie pulls his fingers from Steve’s mouth, rubbing his slick fingers against your lips. You’re quicker than Steve, taking the hint and immediately sucking his fingers into your mouth. He pulls his head back so Steve’s fingers slip out of his own mouth and your boyfriend is quicker this time, his fingers joining Eddie’s as you take all four digits into your mouth.

The feeling of your mouth being so full, the way they had started kissing loudly again above you, their hips thrusting into echoing others fists, and your own fingers pushed you over the edge. You cum hard, moaning and drooling around their fingers. You lock eyes with Steve as your orgasm crashes over you, your hips rocking against your own fingers as you moan around theirs.

“Good fucking girl, cumming for us like that. Isn’t she a good girl, Steve?” Eddie’s voice comes out a breathy groan, Steve’s hand still wrapped tightly around his cock.

“Yeah - she’s so - fuck, she’s so fucking good.” Looking at your boyfriend you can tell by the way the speed of his hips has picked up as he thrusts into the other man’s hand and the moans leaving his lips that he’s close.

You pull your fingers out of your pussy but continue to run small circles over your clit, feeling sensitive after you just came. You moan around their fingers, drool dripping down your chin and onto your chest. You wrap your lips tighter around them and roll your tongue along the bottoms of the digits causing Steve to let out a loud groan.

“You gonna cum for us baby boy? Come on, cum all over her pretty little face.” Eddie pulls his fingers out of your mouth to grip your jaw and it causes Steve’s to fall from your lips as well. His grip is strong, holding you in place while he continues to send your boyfriend closer and closer to the edge. “Stick your tongue out.”

Steve is a mess, Eddie’s hand is slick with spit and precum against his cock, you’re staring up at him with your tongue sticking out, your eyes are glazed over and Eddie’s hand looks just how he imagined it would on you, you still have drool coating your lips and chin and Steve can’t take it anymore. He cums hard, his cum coats your tongue, dripping down your chin and onto your chest.

“Holy fucking shit.” Steve groans when Eddie’s hand releases his over sensitive cock, his hands coming up to run through his silky locks. Your tongue is still out, more cum starting to slide down onto your chest. Eddie looks at you entranced for a moment before getting down on his knees in front of you, leaning down to run his tongue between your tits, stopping to lick across your chin before sucking your tongue into his mouth, intertwining it with his.

He greedily takes Steve’s cum into his mouth, moaning into the kiss.

“Mmm I just had to find out what pretty boy tastes like.”

Eddie pulls away from you, your face is in his big hands and the look in his eyes is that same one from earlier that almost takes you back to your first time with him. He was looking at you with adoration. Even though he just ate your boyfriend’s cum from your mouth, this somehow felt more intimate.

“You gonna let me fuck you now baby? While Steve watches? Just like all his little fantasies.”

“Yeah, please, please fuck me Eddie.” Your voice came out a whine and you didn’t even have it in yourself to be embarrassed about it, you weren’t above begging at this point.

“Okay, hands and knees, face the couch so Stevie has a good view while I fucking ruin his little princess.”

Steve shuffled towards the couch and took a seat on the middle cousin while you turned towards him on your knees, your back arched and your ass in the air giving Eddie the perfect view of your dripping wet pussy.

“How are you doing baby? Are you good?” You smiled sweetly at your boyfriend, who was still flushed from how hard he came minutes ago, but somehow it looked like he was already getting hard again. Steve had good stamina but this must really be doing it for him.

“Yeah honey, I’m good, great even. You look so fucking sexy. You both do.” You watch Steve’s eyes travel behind you and you can only assume he’s locking eyes with Eddie. What you didn’t see was the flustered look on his face when Steve complimented him for the first time.

You felt large ringed hands grab your ass, spreading it apart, right before you felt Eddie’s tongue dive directly into your pussy. You cry out at the sensation, knowing you would’ve felt forward if it wasn’t for Eddie's strong grip on your ass. His tongue ran circles along your clit before he took it into his mouth, sucking hard. One of his hands leaves your ass and you feel his large fingers circling your entrance before he pushes two deep inside you, immediately curling them just the right way.

“Fuck! Eddie oh my god, that’s so good fuck! That's so good.”

You start rocking back against his fingers as you open your eyes that fell closed to look at Steve, he’s almost fully hard again and he looks fucking feral. His eyes are dark and he’s biting his lip so hard that it looks like he could break the skin. He brings his hand to his cock to run his palm over his shaft, letting out a little groan at the feeling. Eddie continues licking and sucking your clit as his fingers drag against that perfect spot. You were so lost in just how good it felt, the feeling of finally having one of them touching you after waiting for what felt like hours that your orgasm snuck up on you.

“Oh my god - oh my god - I’m cumming I’m cumming fuuuuck.”

Your arms give out causing your face to hit the plush carpet but you’re too lost in pleasure to care. Eddie continues fucking his fingers into you through your high before pulling away. He looks Steve directly in the eyes as he brings his fingers coated in your wetness to his mouth, sucking them clean. You had barely come down from your high when you felt Eddie’s dick run through your folds.

“You taste even better than I remember, do you feel just as good too?” Eddie asked you as he pushed the head of his cock inside you. He pulls it out and pushes it back in a few times before shoving his cock halfway in you in one thrust. “Fuck, you feel even better than I remember.”

You know he is just trying to give you time to adjust but you can’t wait anymore, you need him inside you again. Now. You push back against him, the rest of his cock nestles deep inside you and you moan loudly at the feeling.

“Fuck Eds, you feel so good, please don’t hold back, I want you to ruin me.”

Eddie growls, grabbing onto your hips as he starts fucking into you at a brutal pace. You push back up onto your hands so you can look at Steve and he’s fully hard now, his hand wrapped around his cock as he drinks you and Eddie in. His eyes don’t know where to settle, the look on your face, the way your ass jiggles as Eddie’s hands move to grip onto it, Eddie’s hands. He could see the way his cock was slipping in and out of you and the mixture of the sounds of your skin slapping together and the sounds leaving both of you making him crazy.

“This what you wanted Steve? Just wanted to see me ruin your girl?” Eddie’s hands leave your ass, one snaking around to rub your clit and the other yanking you up by your hair so your back was flush against his chest. This new angle had him hitting deeper, his fingers slipped along your dripping pussy in tandem with his thrusts and you felt yourself already getting close again.

“Yeah this is what I wanted, it’s been better than I imagined, fuuuuck.”

You watch as your boyfriend tilts his head down to spit on his cock, his moans getting breathier. Eddie continued to pound into you, the hand in your hair coming to wrap around your throat and your third orgasm of the night hit you light a freight train.

“God damn this pussy is so fucking tight, feels so good when you clench around me like that baby, shit. Can you be a good girl and do it again for me, huh?” Eddie’s voice is rough in your ear and if he kept it up how he was going you were going to be cumming again very soon.

“Yeah - yeah I’ll be - fuuuuck oh my god! I’ll be good, I'll be such a good girl for you and Stevie wanna be your best girl.”

“Turn around, I wanna watch you when you come undone under me again.”

Eddie pulls his cock out of you and scoots back to give you room to turn around. You lay on your back and look up at him, his hair is all over the place, his eyes blown wide, there’s a sheen of sweat on his broad chest that made his tattoos almost shine. He was beautiful, in that moment you realized how much you missed this, missed him. You couldn’t help but think that you didn’t want this to be a one time thing, you wanted more. You wanted them both all the time and you almost felt greedy for it but before you had too much time to linger on those thoughts Eddie was gripping your thighs and throwing them around his hips. He takes his cock in one hand, pushing it deep into your pussy in one thrust. He resumes fucking you as hard and fast as he was before, causing your eyes to roll back.

Meanwhile Steve was going insane, he has a better view of Eddie’s cock now, it’s coated in your cum and sliding so deliciously in and out of you. But his eyes keep traveling back to Eddie’s face, he would hold eye contact with him each time, the moans Steve had been dying to hear for weeks, he was licking and biting his lips and Steve could not stop thinking about them being wrapped around his cock.

“If you want me to suck your cock pretty boy, all you have to do is ask.” Eddie smirks at Steve, he could see the way his eyes kept lingering on his lips and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want his mouth on him.

“Yeah? You sure it’s me that wants it and not you? You did say you loved guys. Prove it.”

Eddie’s thrusts momentarily falter at the tone of the other man’s voice, Steve seemed so nervous before but the way he was looking at him now made him feel like he was gonna bust.

“Come over here then.” He sticks his tongue out, his thrusts picking up again.

Steve stands to his feet, walking over to stand over Eddie. He grabs his cock in his hand and taps it on the metal head's tongue a few times before pushing it into his mouth with a groan. Eddie starts eagerly bobbing his head up and down on Steve’s cock while he continues to pound into you.

“Fuuuuuckkk, oh my god, yeah that’s fucking - that’s so fucking good.” Steve feels like he’s going to cum again already. You’re looking up at him while profanities leave your lips and Eddie’s big brown eyes are locked on Steve’s face. One of his hands comes up to cup Steve’s balls and he loses it. Grabbing two fistfuls of Eddie’s hair and shoving his cock deep into his throat.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth, you want that? You seem like you’d be into that.” Eddie nods as best as he can and Steve takes that as the go ahead, thrusting in and out of the other man’s mouth. “You look so good baby, taking Eddie’s dick so good, look at you. Fuck! Yeah that’s so good, fuck, you’re fucking her so good. You guys are so fucking hot.”

“You guys are so hot too fuck. Fuck Eddie you feel so good, just like I remember. I want you to fuck me full, I wanna make you cum.” Eddie’s hand that isn’t on Steve’s balls comes to rub your clit and angle your hips so he’s hitting that perfect stop again. “I’m gonna fucking cum! Shit! Cum with me please please I want you both to cum with me.”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck” Steve shoves his cock far down Eddie’s throat, causing him to gag and the feeling sends him over the edge, spilling down his throat. Eddie pulls off his cock, turning towards you to grab your jaw.

“Open” You stick your tongue out and he spits Steve’s cum into your mouth, sharing your boyfriend's cum with each other for the second time that night. “Good fucking girl, you’re such a good girl.”

You cum the hardest you have all night, your walls clench around Eddie’s cock and the feeling sends him over the edge. Hot ropes off his cum spilling inside you he fucks you through it until his thrusts falter and he collapses in top of you. After a second rolls off of you onto his back on the ground, the feeling of him slipping out of you makes you feel empty. Steve gets down on the ground next to you, taking your face in his hands and kissing you passionately. You turn towards him, letting your fingers tangle into his hair. You get lost in the kiss for a moment and then you hear Eddie shuffle beside you.

You remove your lips from Steve’s to look over at him and he’s already standing up. Grabbing his pants and pulling them up his legs. You watch as he walks toward the chair that his shirt was laying on, and you push yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him. He pulls his shirt over his head and starts walking towards the door to his shoes.

“Eddie? Where are you going? Are you leaving?” You scramble to your feet, hastily walking over to him.

“Uh - yeah? I don’t wanna linger, I'm sure you guys have shit to do.” He starts pulling his socks on his feet and you rip them from his hands.

“What do you mean linger? You want to leave?” You look at him with your brows knitted together, a pout on your lips and Eddie thinks he would give you just about anything. But you aren’t his, and he can’t stay here and watch you with Steve. Not after that, at least not right now.

“I mean, I figured this was just a one time get it out of your system kinda thing. I don’t usually stick around after hookups.” Eddie shrugged, trying to keep his face nonchalant.

“That’s all this was to you? A hookup? I thought…”

“Was it more than that to you?” His voice came out soft, almost nervous.

“I mean I was hoping we could, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.” You sighed, letting your head drop in frustration. You wanted him to stay.

“We want you to stay. If you want to. It doesn’t have to be a one time thing. I know you both don’t want it to be, and I don’t either. I might not be sneaky but you aren’t either, I see the way you look at each other.” Steve comes up behind you, his hands running up and down your arms, reassuring you with his touch.

“I - what do you even mean? You want me to be like your boy toy or something? I don’t know if I’m up for that.”

Eddie shakes his head, he can’t handle being someone you just fooled around with sometimes. He tried to shove the feelings down for so long but today just proved to him that he couldn’t just pretend he didn’t love you anymore. He also really likes Steve, he could see himself loving him one day and that terrifies him.

“No, I was thinking more like… boyfriend.” Steve wraps his arms around your shoulders pulling your still naked body against his. “That’s what you want, isn’t it baby? You want Eddie around all the time?”

“Yeah but-“

“No buts, I’m not jealous or upset, I know you love me. I want him too, I wouldn’t say anything if I wasn’t okay with it, if I didn’t want it.” He runs his nose along the side of your throat before bringing his lips up to place a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“I - uh - yeah, okay. Only if Eddie wants though.. I know he doesn’t do relationships and this is a really weird situation and-“

“Hey. Baby.” Eddie walks up to you now, taking your face in his hands. “You wanna know why I don’t do relationships? You. It’s always been you. Yeah this is a weird situation but if I get to have you? And I get to have a boyfriend with a cute little ass too? Doesn't sound too bad to me…”

“Yeah?” You look at him with a twinkle in your eye, like he hung the stars just for you, he missed you looking at him like that. He wouldn’t mind getting used to it. “How would that even work?”

“Don’t worry about that right now honey, we will figure it out together, okay? For now I think we should all get cleaned up. Take a nice shower, we can DoorDash some food and find a movie on Netflix.” Steve’s voice is soft and sweet, they are both touching you like you might break and their words make you want to cry tears of joy.

“Can I suck you guys off in the shower? When you had your fingers in my mouth I had this thought…”

“You are insatiable, there will be plenty of time for that. For now, let’s just be together. Yeah?” Eddie chuckles, squishing your cheeks playfully before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“So, you’ll stay?” You bring your hands to rest over his, nuzzling your face into his palms.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me too baby.”

“Even if it’s forever?” Steve’s voice comes from behind you and it warms your heart and soul.

“Even then.” Eddie smiles at him, pulling him in for a kiss.

You spend the rest of the night just being together, laughing and kissing, making plans and promises. It felt like the beginning of something beautiful, the beginning of forever, with your boys.

Taggies: @onegirlmanytales @taintedcigs @jamdoughnutmagician @laylaloves-ed 🖤🖤

[eternalxvenus]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ broken promises pt. 4 ࿐ྂ

summary: Rafe promised to take you out and spend your birthday with you, but you don’t hear from him all day and then suddenly he shows up at your door trying to explain.

wc: 1.8k

notes: i really hope you guys enjoy this chapter!! part 5 will be the final chapter for this series! (there were a few people who asked to be in the tag list but i can't find the asks in my inbox anymore im so sorry!! if you happen to see this comment/message me again to be added!)

previous chapters: part 1 | part 2 | part 3

You woke up this morning and felt so much better than you had in the last few days. Rafe not only cleared everything up, but he also practically poured his heart out for you. Now you both would head back to OBX and hopefully everything will be normal. Both of you know Topper lied and you'll probably have to talk to him about it, which is something you weren't looking forward to.

Leaning over the bed you glanced down to see Rafe's shirtless body still sleeping. You got off the bed with your blanket and snuggled up next to him on the floor. Immediately, you question how he was able to get any sleep down here. As you tried to get comfortable, Rafe stirred awake. You looked up at him with an apologetic expression. "Good morning. I wasn't trying to wake you."

He groaned softly, looking down at you before smiling at you. "Sure you didn't. Good morning, sweetheart." Rafe rolled on top of you, leaning in to give you a kiss before you stopped him.

"Morning breath," you said with a shake of your head, placing your hand over your mouth. He gives you an unamused look before moving your hand away.

"I don't care about morning breath. I gotta make up for all the time I spent not kissing you these last couple of days."

Rafe gave you one long kiss on your lips. It was so soft and caring like he wanted to express all his love for you with the feeling of his lips on yours. He slid his hands down to your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. "God, I missed you, baby. You have no fuckin idea," he whispered.

You couldn't help the smile that grew on your face. "I missed you too." Sitting up, you moved from under his hold and leaned against the side of your bed. "But we aren't having sex in my parents' house, especially while they're here."

He placed his head in the crook of your neck before sighing, "It's okay, I can wait." 

"Alright, let me up so I can go brush my teeth and get ready," you giggle, pushing him off you lightly. He rolls onto the floor dramatically. "I'll be here waiting."

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

While you were going around getting ready, Rafe's eyes followed your every move. He knew that he probably looked creepy staring you down like this, but he was just appreciating you and how he was so lucky to have such a beautiful girlfriend. Rafe was attracted to you the moment you both met at the country club. Your confidence, your style, even the way your perfume still lingered in the air even after you left.

He'd never admit it but you had him wrapped around your finger the minute you agreed to go on a date with him. You were too good for him, so accepting and supportive even when he'd try to push you away. Love wasn't enough to describe how he felt. He was fucking obsessed. Willing to do anything and everything for you. His personal heaven.

The sound of snapping brought him back to the present. "Hello? Did you hear me?" Rafe shakes his head. You roll your eyes, something he can never take seriously when you look so damn stunning. "I said I'm ready to go."

He gave a brief sign of acknowledgment so you'd know he heard you, but his eyes were focused on eyeing everything from your hair to your shoes. "C'mere, I wanna hold you for a bit," he said softly. He rarely ever heard himself like this, the soft side of him being reserved for those special moments with you. The moments when his heart felt like it was beating so fast it would come out of his chest, or his face would heat up with a light tinge of pink on his cheeks.

You made your way over to him and straddled him on the bed. "What, you miss me giving you all my attention?" you teased.

Rafe gave a small smile before kissing your forehead— He knew better than to mess up your lip combo so soon— "Yeah, something like that."

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Since Rafe had brought his truck with him to the mainland, he drove you both back to the ferry going to OBX. He didn't talk much during the drive or the ferry ride back but he kept his hands on you at all times— holding you in his lap, putting a hand on your thigh, or an arm around your shoulder— he was keeping you close.

Once you arrived on the island, you thought Rafe would take you straight home or to Tannyhill until he mentioned having to stop somewhere first. You didn't think anything of it but when you saw The Boneyard coming into view you looked over, confused. "Rafe, what are we doing here?"

"I just gotta take care of something alright? Stay here I'll be right back." He got out of the truck and started making his way toward the sea of people drinking and hanging out.

With a sigh, you got out of the car shortly after, following behind him. Immediately you saw him heading in Topper's direction, making you pick up your pace to catch up to him.

Rafe reached Topper just before you did and was staring him down with his arms crossed. "What's up, Top?" he said in a harsh voice. Topper gave a confused look at his attitude before trying to seemingly move on. 'Hey Rafe, what's good, man?"

When you reached them you put your hand on Rafe's arm in an attempt to pull him away. "Come on Rafe, please just do this later." You didn't want to make a scene with all these people here or risk him getting in trouble, but he ignored your attempts.

"Do you wanna tell me why you told my girl I cheated on her?" his voice was eerily calm as he spoke, you almost wished he were yelling instead.

Topper looked at Rafe in silence before he shrugged. "Listen, man, you were coked out of your mind and got all up on your ex. I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't even remember. But it's on video and everything, I was just trying to look out for her and do the right thing."

By this point, a few people who were close enough to hear the conversation had started watching, eager to see what was going on. Kelce, who had been standing next to Topper, looked just as confused yet interested as everyone else.

"Oh, so you have the video? Let me see it then." he urges.

Topper rolls his eyes but takes his phone out and plays the video. It's the same one he had sent to you that you now know is old. "See man? I'm sure you regret it or whatever but it happened. You fucked up." he has a small smirk on his face as he said it like it was the hard truth.

Rafe licked his lips and nodded. He pulled his phone out and showed Topper the photo that was actually from the party. "You took this photo at the party, right?" Topper nodded "So?" A chuckle left Rafe's throat. "So... I'm wearing two completely different outfits. Why don't you show me the date on the video Top."

Topper was silent for a few moments before his smirk dropped and an angered look took over his features. "You don't fucking deserve her, Rafe! You know she'd be better off with me. You'd choose drugs over her, you would choose yourself over her!"

Your eyebrows shot up at his outburst. Topper was jealous. Rafe got closer to him, getting into his face. "I should've known you'd go after her. You were the one who convinced me to do the coke after I told you I'd quit you fuckin' prick!" Topper shoved Rafe but he only stumbled a little before lunging at Topper and throwing a punch. Kelce and a few other Kooks who were close by rushed over to try and break it off but Rafe wasn't letting up.

"Rafe! Stop, let's just go!" you shouted, trying to get his attention. Someone had finally gotten them off of each other, and Topper was bleeding from the mouth with and his eye was starting to swell. You could see the blood on their clothes and on Rafe's knuckles. It was unlikely someone would call the cops but you wanted to get out of there before things could get worse. Before you could get far enough, you heard Topper yell "She's just another piece of ass anyway!"

Pulling Rafe away from The Boneyard and back towards the truck, you sigh, noticing the bruise forming on his cheek. Both of you got into the truck and Rafe started to drive to your place, still pissed off.

"You didn't have to do that Rafe..." you tried to keep your voice soft, not wanting him to think you were angry.

Rafe scoffed, "That fucker deserved it. He's lucky I don't kill him." You said nothing for the rest of the ride, and neither did Rafe.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

After what felt like forever, you saw your house come into view. The truck rolled to a stop, and Rafe shut off the engine, placing his head on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry," he muttered. It almost seemed like he felt... ashamed?

"I'm sorry for doing that... I let him get to me. I shouldn't have gone in the first place." he explained. You felt bad that he was beating himself up for letting his anger get the best of him.

You leaned over the center console to place a kiss on his non-bruised cheek. "It's okay. Let's just get inside and forget about it."

Rafe nodded, and you both got out of the truck to head inside. You made him take off his dirty, bloodied clothes and put them in the wash, leaving him in his boxers. With a little convincing, he allowed you to tend to his busted knuckles and ice his bruise for a while. There was a silence between you that was both comfortable and strained up until you'd gotten in bed.

You were laying on his chest tracing shapes along his skin while he stroked your back soothingly. "Hey Rafe," you spoke softly looking up at him. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"I thought of something you could do to make my birthday up to me, at least a little bit."

He opened his eyes looking down at you lovingly. "What is it? Name anything and I'll make it happen."

You bit your lip to try and suppress your devilish smile while climbing on top of him in a straddle position. Leaning in close, your lips ghosted his as you whispered, "How about some belated birthday sex?"

part 5

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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[buzzkillers]

FABLES & PARABLES 3|?

Summary: You try to find relief from the curse. The relief follows you home.

Warning: NON-CON (due to sex pollen) , religious themes, non-consensual voyeurism, magical sex pollen, dream-walking, mentions of abortion, attempted forced pregnancy.

PART ONE PART TWO

“Where are you going?” You asked.

The beach-” Your roommate answered, almost soundlessly. Before she took a glance at the pile of blankets and dissertation papers you've become. “I would invite you but you seem too comfy bedrotting to join."

You looked at the mess you’ve become. At the smell you were for sure letting off. But you didn’t want to move. Moving meant having to look at people and trying not to jump them. Moving meant, your guts being twisted and heart aching and the inability to focus on anything but the dryness of her tongue coming back tenfold.

But your roommate was looking at you like that. Like you were a lost cause, and suddenly you remembered where you were. In a new country that you probably couldn't afford to visit again. And you were what? Sitting on your ass? You probably came off like a loser. She probably regretted even bunking with you. So you ignored the twist in your gut, and you smiled. Like a gun was to your head. “Nah, i wanna go.”

“Oh really?” she cocked her head, eyes squinted.

“Yeah, maybe it’ll be good to get some damn fresh air.”

—-

It was not good for you.

You underestimated just how much being inside actually alleviated the cramps that twisted in your gut. The moment you stepped on hot sand, you could just about fall to your knees. But you put up a good front. Instead, you sat at the bon fire that flicked and licked at the sky. A quick wick and you laughed until you felt bile reach up your throat and your eyes linger on everyones body a little bit longer than usual. There's skin showing everywhere and you’re not hiding it. Your eyes lap on exposed skin, crinkled locs, cushioned breasts and the over affectionate throwing of hands put on you.

You were all bundled around a fire.

Combined with your internal heat, you could just about say that you were in hell as your tummies settled with the alcohol and weed gummies. Ok maybe you were being dramatic. This actually was kind of nice. Even if you were currently running hot enough to boil the Atlantic sea. Before around you, murmuring and loud conversations took over the sound of the fire.

“I swear to fucking god,” said one of your classmates with their arms stretched out in the dirt. It was a dude with sallow brown eyes, his hair a wave of braids and sea beads and dark skin that glimmered so much under the moonlight that he kind of looked like a mermaid. Or maybe you were just too crossfaded. He grumbled at the fire. “Im getting a fucking refund, we haven't done shit.”

You all hummed in agreement. Or well you tried to, you hummed and it was more of a strangled gasp. Painful and lacking relief. You felt like shit, looked it too, with sweat beading down your face, as your entire body went slick with perspiration. The fire made it worse. It was taunting you. Each lick and flame forcing even your swimsuit to go damp and damn maybe you were too high.

Whatever.

The merman was right. This was a waste of a trip and none of you actually went to the landmarks you needed. Well, one tried but she simply got stuck in the rain. And then it took her an entire two hours to get back, that was a good enough warning for the lot of you.

“Teotihuacan will be better.” You somehow managed to say cause it had to be, it just had to. This was simply a fluke and this sickness was a fluke and it didn’t take long for everyone to agree and continue muttering more of their grievances before they decided to do something else.

A midnight swim, they said as you guys dipped into the waters. The smell of salty sea and the sunscreen you hazardly sprayed on before you got here invading your nose. Of course, this was probably a stupid idea. You expect that after you put a foot in, somehow the sensation of being high and drunk and then hot and now wet would successfully force you into an early coma.

You pushed forward anyway.

Slowly, you dipped in feet first, the water kissing your knees, till it's wrapped around your neck and you waited, and waited but the consequences never came.

Instead, it's a relief.

A jaw numbing, deep inhaling, blood curdling relief. It's a fist unclenching, and your body going lax as you dipped into the water and felt it cradle you like a babe with its waves in your hair and the rushing of currents at your calves.

In the water you quaked and you swallowed. Then there's a hand on your shoulder. Warm and insistent. As the water breezed over you, washing over your face until the currents embrace felt like fingers that brushed against your thigh. Until it felt like multiple wet, slimy hands were at your hips. Caressing your skin, then digging and pulling and, what happened next was kind of foggy but you remembered one thing. The sight of opal skin, talons at your breast and oh yes–

You started screaming.

.

.

And everyone stared.

–

Somehow afterwards, when the staring turned to worried concern and then uncomfortable silence; you had got up and stumbled to the hotel.

Unbeknownst to you, a shadow followed in your footsteps, a storm covered in golds and jade as the trees protested and the wind whistled in warning, in urgency. It was a malleant effort, but you continued to stumble on the path to the hostel and the shadow continued to watch, to stalk, in faint curiosity and then finally poorly veiled anger. Everything after that was sort of a dream really. A very terrible dream.

____

The hostel was a nightmare of jagged shadows and a creaking AC unit. A place where you didn’t remember taking the elevator nor did you remember stumbling to your room, keycard in hand as the floor slipped beneath your feet. Through the floorboards a song washed through you, a smooth melody, hypnotic and moving you to action but not to speak.

If you were asked to speak, it would not be possible. If you did anything it'd be as if you were stumbling through molasses as the door closed behind you-maybe?- and heat uncurled itself in your lungs and dug its way through your ribs. You felt drunk, high on a drug that you didn’t remember consuming. And if your frontal lobe wasn’t lagging at 2 bits per second, you might’ve been plagued with the question of why and then maybe, with a whisper, help. Please help.

Help with the fire that was beginning to curl in your belly and help with the numbness in the back of your mind and help with the incessant belief that something was fundamentally and irreversibly wrong.

Instead, you crumbled to your knees. Your vision nothing but a ragged cut of film that's been glued together and sewn haphazardly into something that might’ve been memories before you’re back on your feet.

Below, the murmurings and whispers of the tenants bled through the walls, a buzzing t.v, singing children and running baths. “Water.” you think you said, or maybe you just thought it. It was water that made the pain go away wasn’t it? Ocean water but what was the difference between that and what came from the tap? A few minerals and chemicals?

A hum wracked through the room, deep and spellbinding. It could only have come from you.

Then you blinked and you’re in the bathroom. You shifted and your swimsuit shedded off. Outside, wind whistled through an open window.

Another shiver licked up your spine, the skin of your bones rattling. The front door was open again. You should close it. But your bones had turned soft and the floor continued to lean forward, then backwards, the light overhead blinding you. You didn’t close the door.

The music only got closer.

And your hands are pressed into the sink, you're too scared to look in the mirror. It's been like that alot recently, ever since the illness started. Too afraid to look at the black screen on your phone, too afraid to see your reflection in puddles, too afraid to confirm a gnawing sensation. A question that you didn't want an answer to. Behind you, the bath ran hot. The steam clouded your lungs. So you kept your head down, focused instead on the rush of water from the tub you didn't turn on and on the clothes you didn't remember taking off and you took a deep breath.

In response, the bathroom door thumped with a slow, nauseating knock.

You would only have to turn your head.

It would be like the turn of a knob. It would be nothing, it was probably your roommate or your teacher checking on you but you could not look up. Fear kept your focus down as your hair raised and your body shivered.

The tub was still running.

You blinked and you were in the bathroom, in the tub. Everything was ice cold, a turbulent tundra against your veins. And then, the sun stood in your bathroom. A star encompassed in what could only be golden clothes and jewels that twinkled under the fluorescent light.

The sun sighed. "Mortals…..difficult" he turned off the tub. Your feet tangled with muscled calves, a head laid in the crook of your neck.

"I." was all you could say between chattering teeth. It broke through a cotton fog. Something thick and dense that curled at the edge of your skull, buried against bone.

More gold filled your vision. Golden skin, golden jewelry, golden heat that pressed against your skin and made the water overflow from the weight of him.

"Shhh," they whispered, like a melody, like a death sentence before calloused hands pressed into your cheek.

“You’re whining like a hatchling left behind by their mother.” Then a finger brushed at your braids.

“Did you want me to hear you?” He asked.

His voice low in a way that reminded you of ocean currents, of the washing of sand across a beach floor. And in the back of your mind, there's something like a warning. A flashing red light that pounded against your head till the song came back tenfold, and you all but collapsed in the man's arms.

“Who-” Your tongue went heavy in your mouth. What were your trying to say?

A chuckle followed, dry and humorless.

“You pray for me at my altar. You lay yourself bare in the water. You run from me. And yet you ask me who I am?” "

Above you, the stranger shifted. "I should kill you."

Then your legs were being pried apart. Your cunt suddenly split by thick fingers with a thumb on your clit. And just like that, the last remnants of the heat that seemed to plague you for the past couple of weeks washed away, all of that pain and overexertion collapsed into everything but a distant memory. And suddenly you felt silly. The store owner couldn’t have done this, your fingers couldn’t have done this and the familiar need to not be alone, to be surrounded by those that you knew for safety, for relief couldn’t have done this either.

How much time did you waste looking for relief that seemed to only be brought on at this moment.

Above you, the stranger grumbled. “Just know that I am a gracious God.” As the water slipped into your eyes and your lips gasped for breath as if for the first time. "That I am the keeper of promises." Above you the bathroom lights twinkled like stars and the tiled walls gleamed, filling you with glimpses of white, white, white; till your back arched and the orgasm crashed into you like the water, like the stranger whose fingers digged into your ribs.

“There you are.”

And then he was between your legs, something bigger replacing his fingers. “There you are.”

[willowser]

i had to call the awful evil witch from tech support at my job today, and it had me thinking about getting the little error message and feeling your heart sink and you lean over to your coworker to whine,

"i have to call and get an override,"

and she snorts because she knows what that means, and despite what she says—there is an evil little gleam in her eye. "maybe midoriya will pick up."

you throw your head back dramatically, letting it hang over the chair until you feel the blood rushing to your ears. "i never get midoriya! what menu options are you choosing to get him, because it's never him for me!"

your coworker shrugs, turning from her computer again to smirk at you. "i don't know, man, it's just whoever picks up."

you stare at the window box in the center of your computer, the red ! at the front of a set of codes you loathe to see. hard as you try to find hope that you'll get lucky and izuku will pick up the phone—you don't think it's likely.

"will you call for me?"

"oh my god, just do it already."

and that's how you end up biting at your thumbnail, staring down at the phone on your desk as the automated voice greets you—happily—and begins to list out the different menu options. you consider choosing something random, to see if that will get you to a different, nicer member of the support team, but you wait too long and the options repeat and you decide to just bite the bullet.

it only rings for a moment before you get,

"task solutions. 's'bakugou."

you roll your eyes up to the ceiling and back and snap to stare at your coworker, mouthing a soundless 'fuck!' as she bursts into a fit of laughter.

"y'got five seconds before i hang up the—"

"sorry, hi, sorry! hi! i'm here!" you muster up all the kindness you can, smiling politely so that it will transfer in your voice. "i just need an override, please."

there's not much he says that he doesn't have to, only grunting in acknowledgement when you give him your name and employee id, read off the error message that brought you into the lion's den.

the support team for your company works off-site, so you've never met him. bakugou. hardly know anything about him outside of the name he barks out when answering the phone, and you don't think you'd like to, really.

it's incredibly frustrating to have to call him for help because he knows the system better than you do, knows your job better than you do—and is quick to call it out when your math is wrong or your input is off. if validation didn't fail every once in a while when the program is overloaded you'd be fine—but here you are.

a tense silence fills between the phone as he works, and you know he can only log in and see your screen but it feels like he's watching you, entirely. to be polite, you ask, "are you, uh, goin' to conference this year?"

the silence becomes a void, all consuming, before he murmurs out a sharp, "no."

"oh, bummer," you chuckle nervously, sweat building on the back of your neck as you watch his mouse click around on your screen. "are midoriya and iida going?"

bakugou sighs, heavy with frustration. "probably," he answers, though, to your surprise. "they like to sit around and do fuck—nothin' all day at the damn booth."

you've been by the task solutions booth every year at conference, mostly because they hand out nice steel cups with metal straws, but the faces you've seen there are never unfamiliar. for a moment, you try to imagine it: walking up to get your free goodie from some sour asshole, only to have him bark at you as you try to reach for it.

the mouse stops in the bottom corner of your screen, hesitating. you hold your breath. this is usually when he chastises you for something he makes sound so simple.

"you goin'?"

"uh," your mouth hangs open for a second, because this is the most you've ever spoken to him that didn't involve scolding of some kind. "yeah, yeah! our team will be there for day 2!" there's a soft hum from the other end, and you see the opportunity for what it is: a chance to get on good terms with this guy, so you can stop being so afraid to call the help desk. "you should go! i don't—i don't think we've ever met before."

it's hard to tell how he takes that, but you only assume not well considering your screen flashes as he logs off, taking the error message with him.

"uh, yeah, whatever," he grumbles, "is there—you need anythin' else?"

"oh, nope! that's it, thanks!"

"alright," the line doesn't disconnect immediately and you curl into yourself, as if you could hear anything else by pressing the phone harder to your ear. then he says, "later." and is gone.

[violetmuses]

Roman Reigns + Correspondent!Reader 💫

Fandom: WWE

Character: Roman Reigns

Author's Note: Hi! Here's another request. Thank you so much for reading my work. - V. 💜

@episodes-ff 🏷

=====

2024

“Hey, can we talk for a second?” Working around the tunnel, one smooth voice reached your attention this morning and you looked over to see Roman stand near his private room.

“Make it quick. I'm busy…” Your heels clicked, but Roman nearly spun you around to close the door.

______

“I missed you. Had to wake up by myself this morning.” After locking down entry, Roman dwindled space for both paths and smiled against your lips, chuckling.

“I missed you too, but…” You tried moving away, but lovely kisses stopped your words.

“You're so pretty. Look.” Turning your body, Roman faced this mirror and lifted your chin using calloused yet gentle fingers. “See that?”

“What do you want?” Despite leaning against him, you played games.

“Too busy?” His Southern accent teased while Ro started loosening your clothes.

Glancing down, you realized that this man slowly unfastened your shirt and left the bra exposed, giving one peek to that mirror while kisses warmed your neck.

You can't think straight, especially when his front meets your ass to veil the clothed erection. Even those large palms would circle your breasts.

“Baby…” You ignored so many names and leaned against him once more just to stop your knees from buckling.

Just when your husband considered taking off sweatpants, someone rattled the doorknob and began knocking.

Shit!

“Open the door.” Jimmy and Jey Uso started fooling around.

“Hold on.” Fighting the urge to kiss you again, Roman nearly scrambled to help with your clothes.

Gathering essentials, you “tried” to look busy while staying in this room, but Jimmy caught everything.

“Ooh!” Jimmy covered his mouth first before Jey noticed what happened.

“What?” Jey turned the corner and gasped upon realization. “Oh, damn! Uh, you missed a few buttons.”

“Fuck.” Looking down, you realized the mistake of dressing quickly and turned away from your brothers, trying to look presentable. “Well, see you later.”

Given no other choice, you pulled yourself together and left the room without even saying goodbye.

Dramatic as you leave, Roman used his back-end strength just to slide down this rear wall and laid out on his back, watching that fluorescent ceiling.

“What's wrong with you?” Humored, Jimmy almost knelt in return.

“She's perfect.” Roman's Southern accent pulled forward again.

Good God! Roman thought.

*****

Sometime later, you woke up on the road and rushed away from bed, immediately vomiting in bathroom.

“I'm here. That sounded rough. You okay?” Ro's voice offered kindness as dim lights helped your situation.

“Yeah. I probably ate too fast or something tonight.” Calming down, you tried to settle whatever prompted sickness.

“All right.” Roman eased once more. “I bought a thermometer and our First-Aid kit just in case, though.”

“Thank you.” You nodded, feeling more exhausted than beforehand.

“We'll go back to sleep.” Ro just pointed backward for amoment. "If it happens again, I'm calling for help.”

“I'm fine, don't worry. We have work to do.” You're stubborn this time.

“Sweetheart?” Roman lifted his brow and crossed both tattooed arms.

“I'm fine.” You repeated this sentence and went back to sleep, keeping water by the nightstand.

Just like me.

*******

“What happened?” Wrestler Naomi picked up trouble.

Soon enough, you ended up feeling sick again and hid in the tunnel's bathroom space.

“I'm fine.” Calling to Naomi, you flushed the toilet and thoroughly washed both hands, checking the mirror as exhaustion would lined your face again.

“Uh-uh.” Dressed in some classic neon wardrobe to kick ass on screen, Naomi quickly shook her head while facing you. “That's just counting number 2. Don't lie.”

“Food poisoning?” You pulled emotions together once more.

“Can't be.” Naomi refused. “I'm definitely telling Roman.”

“No!” You gritted. “The show starts soon.”

"Stay aware. If anything goes wrong, come find us.” Naomi promised.

Nodding by your friend, you understood the emergency plan and headed out, ready to work.

*****

Everything jumbled out of nowhere during one of the first segments.

You fainted while observing Roman and quietly laughing over your brothers. The production team hurried, but Ro, Jimmy and Jey yelled for privacy.

“Stop filming!”

“Don't touch my sister, man!”

You only “remember” how Roman carried you out of that building.

******

You were pregnant.

Reality grounded everyone as the ultrasound beeped when your senses brightened once more.

“That's crazy.” Almost laughing, Jey watched imagery with professionals and Jimmy teared up from silent happiness in the corner.

Chairing your bedside, Roman just turned his head down and dodged feelings in public.

“Get out.” Roman stood from his place and warned both cousins.

“What? No.” Jimmy scrunched up his face in response.

“Hey, Jim. Not now.” Jey would signal their problems again. “Let's go. I found the vending machine anyway.”

______

“Why didn't you tell me this time?” Roman pulled the question once medical staff turned away.

“Y'all got enough problems to deal with. Even if I left, the show would keep moving.” You sat in bed to keep answering.

“We've talked about everything. You think I'll just wear this ring to look good?” Roman lifted his wedding ring on purpose. “I'd make anything happen for you.”

“I know, but…” You struggled.

“I love you, but lyin’ to me will never work.” Ro grounded the truth.

“Of course. I'm sorry.” Tears reached your face as Roman kissed your forehead.

“I forgive you. Ready?” Roman finally smiled toward the monitor.

“Always.” No matter what happens, you'll join parenthood with your best friend.

‘Princess’ Anoa'i would arrive soon.

[cult-of-the-eye]

Mag 81 A Guest for Mr Spider

FUCK FORMER HEAD ARCHIVIST

Wait I need to check the timelines - this was 2 days after leitner's death

New spooky music???

My man is so fucking dramatic I love him so much "grand of sand behind my eye" love the way he speaks

Yeah FUCK JURGEN LEITNER

Omg the greying hair is canon??

Child in the 90s makes him at most 27 GOD DAMN. I was imagining like mid 30s...can you imagine a fucking 27 yr old using words like "ilk" when talking to you

Oh shit he's an orphan poor guy

Yeah ok a lot of his personality seems to make sense if you realise he was raised by his grandma

You know those memes that are like people raised by their grandparents are exceptionally polite but in a brisk way, talk fancy and are super posh? Yeah that's him.

Getting such neurodivergent vibes

Yeah he sounds like a main character from the start Jesus Christ he's such a kid who got traumatised and then grows up to be a horror protagonist vibes

My First Leitner lol like kids had to be introduced to them at a young age like those my first toys

He's so funny I can just imagine him as an 8 yr old getting super like affronted at this like how dare my grandma think I am of subpar intelligence he's such a little bitch from the start

"The eponymous Mr spider" even talking about his childhood trauma he's busting out the vocabulary

Fuck that story actually kinda rattled me I had my hand over my mouth in shock for most of it

I think it was the bit where the horsefly brought his son and they were both crying that got me, I could definitely imagine it scaring an 8 yr old

The way it drags out as well, with the pages of the same scene it really heightens the suspense

Is his childhood bully someone we should keep track of?? Love how he says Michael probably cause he sees him as a bully lol

It's interesting how despite him bullying him (quite badly seeing as though he beat him up) he's still like yeah but he saved my life and that means he deserves to be remembered

My bro didn't save your life on purpose, he was just trying to make it worse and happened to come to a terrible fate cause of that

I guess underneath it all he was still a kid who watched someone die, knowing they'd get eaten by a fucking spider, he still held him in some regard

The way he specified the guy was his bully even after he was being eaten though lol

He was desperate to get the book back? That's a leitner thing I guess, the book makes you want to keep it so it can finish whatever it wanted to do to you

On my relisten (which I will do once I've finished the series I'm sure of it), I'll have to look out for any reaction of leitners name

I wonder why Jon didn't react more to Carlos vittery's statement, like it must've terrified him? I saw a post a while back explaining Jon's thoughts and IT WAS GENIUS it was like of course he doesn't react, he must be terrified that someone knew about his experience and somehow did this to mess with him or it was a joke and he can't let anyone know that the Head Archivist is not Good at This ugh it's so good I'll tag it if I can find it

AHHHHH HE REGRETS DISMISSING THE OTHER STATEMENTS AHHHHHH

HE FINALLY ADMITS THAT HE NEEDS HELP WE LOVE THIS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT YES YOU FUCKING DO BITCH.

yeah at least he's right about Elias killing leitner

GEORGIE THE EX GIRLFIEND

ITS SO WEIRD TO SEE HIM ACTUALLY NICE TO SOMEONE WOW HIS VOICE CHANGES SLIGHTLY AS WELL HES LESS ACADEMIC

THE ADMIRAL

Awwww he's so cute with georgie

GHOST PODCAST GHOST PODCAST

THE WHAT THE GHOST T SHIRT IS CANON???? AHH THATS SO CUTE

Can he not go back to his own flat?? Did he bring all his clothes to the archive and then subsequently leave them there? Does he even have a flat??

God Georgie is so nice I would kill for her

It's so funny that an apparent supernatural cynic dated a ghost podcaster

WOW SEASON 3 OFF TO AN AMAZING START I CANT WAIT TO KEEP LISTENING IM GONNA TELL MY THERAPIST ABOUT THIS TOMORROW!!!

[zinthelost]

Everything And Nothing You Wanted

I have a story roaming around my head about this and it being why Erik quit being Magneto between dofp and xma. Cus something had to have happened right? For him to walk away? What was his post-divorce rock bottom that made him just say fuck it? Cus it wasn't prison. That dramatic bastard walked out of prison and promptly dropped a stadium around the White House. So what did it?

Let's say Mystique runs into him post dofp. And she's pissed cus he tried to kill her. After everything. After all their time working together and history. But she also still wants him and she's frustrated at not getting what she wants. Ever! And why shouldn't she get him? She's looking for a fuck, not true love.

So she comes on to him in some safe house and "No, Raven. Honestly, you're still on about this? No."

And she's had enough about being told no so she slides the metaphorical knife in. She shifts into Charles as he looked in XMFC, soft and clean and perfect, and smirks at him. "Maybe you'd prefer something a little different?" Cus she has eyes. She saw how Erik looked at Charles.

Erik goes rigid at the sight of "him" and snarls at her to take that form off but she's unimpressed. She knows what he wants and why shouldn't he indulge, she asks. Of course Charles knew he wanted him. Erik knows that, right? Little wonder he hates Charles so much after being denied again and again, deemed not good enough for even a quick screw.

Erik grits his teeth. "Let it go, Raven. Fine! I wanted him. Congratulations! But he owes me nothing simply because I wanted him. And why would I fucking hate Charles for being straight?" he snaps at her, turning to leave (cus he can't take her doing this while looking/sounding like Charles) but she/he laughs caustically at that.

"You think Charles is straight?" And Erik is frozen in his tracks, hand on the door knob as she/he continues. "Oh God no. I saw him bring home so many men and women when he was in college. Charming Charles cut a wide swath."

"He's a telepath, Erik. He doesn't care about the 'wrapping', just the contents. If someone's mind, someone's soul was good enough he'd haul them home in an instant. No questions asked."

"Charles" goes on, twisting the blade. "But you? Making eyes at him over that damn chessboard every night? He knew you were on offer and he just wasn't buying. But I guess that's understandable given all your ugly bits? Can't imagine saint Charles would want a killer. The thought probably made his skin crawl."

And here Erik snaps: rage, self-hatred, and heartbreak tangling up and exploding. Grabbing him/her and throwing him/her against the wall, he shoves a thigh between his legs and has his mouth in a punishing kiss.

And it's everything he wanted, and it's nothing he wanted, because this isn't how it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be soft and loving in Charles' quiet home, not this tearing rageful thing, all teeth and nails and bruises.

He takes him hard against the wall and on the shitty bed. And it isn't Charles. No bit of this feels like Charles. His silk-soft thoughts don't brush Erik's mind, he can't feel the unintentional sparks of emotion Charles would always emit when he got too excited about something. There's no laughter. No light. But he'd have never had him anyway. Charles was right to refuse him, despite his lies about him being worth more than violence. Clearly they were lies.

He'd have never wanted his bloodied hands on him. 'There's so much more to you...' but not enough more to me, right, Charles? Not enough.

Afterwards Erik grabs his clothes, cursing her for goading him, exposing him, and tries not to vomit till he's out of her earshot.

[trashthatsred]

Im gonna go insane the way they started with Rin and Sae’s backstory, the way Rin sounds so sad ToT bro omg. They’re insane for that wth.

And the additional time is so fucking funny to me, because it’s clear Rin deffo felt a bit hurt when everyone pointed at him, it felt on character when he pretended not to get hurt. But let’s be honest guys, Rin is still 16 and bro is fresh out of a conflict with his brother. He is bound to feel really lonely when the only person who he felt was by his side just disowns him, LIKE BRO! THE INTRO?!?!?! It was in Rin’s POV. And it’s funny cause he was so fast to claim a room for himself but then gets hurt when no one wants to room with him, someone give this kid a hug.

I just wanna claim that the U20 arc was definitely made for the Itoshi Brothers (Im delusional). But back to my rambling, like oh my gooddd the additional time, Gods the character interaction made me so happy. It really showed Rin’s aversion to making friends, but at the same time it shows that Rin is still a growing boy who (probably) still feels really lonely and is in dire need of a friend or two, Isagi doesn’t count. In another life maybe, but manga readers know why. But the way his brows furrowed and how he pouted was SO CUTE! Rinnie my child, you have a brother complex. Your whole world revolves around Sae, and having him disown you made you feel so lost, I wouldn’t blame you, but damn your so hurt about it that you can’t fathom the idea of making friends without feeling like shit cause your only friend and bestest of friend, Sae. Betrayed you, hurt you and disowned you.

Normal people would look for a way to talk to their brother again or make new friends with someone else, or just avoid the things that remind them of the other all together. But nooo you chose to be petty and is now obsessively trying to ‘destroy’ your brother… Gods I want to ramble moooree. Like uuggh my mind is all over the place when it comes to these two. Why can’t they just communicate properly? Why are you two so dramatic (luh nagsalita siya) Like this could all be solved with a proper conversation and given enough time, but instead they opted for an awkward push and pull-ish relationship.

Like in most itoshi brothers content we see, Sae is seems to always want to see Rin or thinks about Rin, but then he’s keeping up this act of not wanting Rin in his life anymore. And then there is Rin who just thinks this a normal healthy relationship. It’s not it’s really not. Like uugh if my mind just calms down and let me formulate my words I’ll be explaining this better uuhuhuhuh

[snshineandgnpwdr]

southern inhospitality

pairing- Dieter Bravo x ofc!Ava

word count- 1.8k ish

warnings- God, I still don't even know? Mentions of food, tense family gatherings and insecurities, just general crappy Thanksgiving family gathering vibes....also, I borrowed a few lines from Rhett & Scarlett if that's not your thng.....and remember kiddos, no matter what universe or situation, we hate Conrad. 😎

notes- I waffled all week about whether or not I wanted to repost this today for its one year anniversary and finally decided here at the end of the day that yeah, I like this one and I actually do want to. Made some minor edits but nothing serious, this takes place a couple years in the future from where these guys are in their main (unfinished) story but can be read as a stand alone.

thanks as always to @wildemaven for being my cheerleader and @tinytinymenace for the prompt a million years ago that started this. 💕

As he stepped onto the escalator and descended into the arrivals terminal, he thought to himself, 'this is the dumbest idea I've ever had.'

Okay, maybe not the dumbest. He is Dieter Bravo after all, he's done a lot of dumb shit in his life. But this probably ranks right up there.

And it's not like Ava had exactly invited him but when they'd talked the previous evening, she had said she missed him and that was pretty much the same thing right?

Besides, she'd sounded so miserable back in her family's clutches, it was like his duty or whatever to sweep in and rescue her. The last time she sounded that withdrawn-- well, he doesn't like to think about it, but he'll be damned if they ever repeat it. Time for him to step up and white knight this shit.

He's starting to second guess the whole idea though as the Uber makes its way up the long oak lined drive, the massive magnolia tree taking up the majority of the front yard coming into view before the actual house does.

"Goddamn," he whispers to himself as the car comes to a halt in front of a true southern plantation house- fucking columns, gleaming black shutters, coach lights, rocking chairs and all.

He can't help but wonder what the hell he's gotten himself into as he grabs his bag from the Uber and makes his way up the steps to the imposing double front doors and ringing the bell.

Based on the exterior, he's expecting the door to be answered by a housekeeper or a butler or some shit and is surprised when it swings open to reveal a pre-teen boy in perfectly pressed khakis and a seasonally appropriate burnt orange polo.

"Yeah?" The kid says nonchalantly, more interested in the phone in his hand than the actual guest at the door and Dieter catches a glimpse of chipped black glitter nail polish as the boy's fingers fly over the keys.

"I'm looking for Ava. Ava Greene? Is this the right place?" He asks, sliding his Ray-Bans down his nose and trying to peer behind the kid into the house. "Or like the right fucking century? They know the south lost right?"

That gets the kid's attention and he looks up at Dieter, flashing him a mischievous grin and suddenly Dieter sees the family resemblance. At least he knows he's at the right house. Must be one of Drew's spawn.

"The news of the fall of the Confederacy has not yet reached the man of the house. We fear, due to his advanced age and frail condition, such a staggering blow may cause him to expire."

Dieter snorts out a laugh and the kid smiles even wider. "Welcome to Oak Hill," he says with a dramatic bow. "Please, do step inside and join us on this day when we celebrate the most problematic of American holidays."

Dieter is getting ready to call the kid out for inviting perfect strangers into his family's home when Ava's voice comes from somewhere further in the house and instead he finds himself automatically stepping inside as if drawn to her.

"Harry! Who's at the door? You didn't let the Jehovah's Witnesses in again, did you??"

"They're actually here for you," Harry calls over his shoulder. "Something about how you've been living in sin with a cad and a scoundrel."

"Haha," Ava laughs. "Very funny, smart ass. Seriously, who's here?"

"Seriously, it's for you. Come see."

The tapping of heels on hardwood flooring comes closer and Dieter thinks maybe he's stepped not only into the wrong century but also into a completely alternate reality- Ava- his messy, wonderful, Converse wearing Ava, in heels?

His gaze starts at her feet as she comes into view and hot damn, she really is wearing a killer pair of leather booties with some long swirly plaid skirt he doesn't have a name for, crisp white button up, pearls at her ears and throat, hair pulled back in a complicated looking up-do.

"Harry, everyone I know is already here...." And then she catches sight of him standing behind Harry and he grins at the surprised expression on her face. "Dee-- what are you doing here? What about your meeting?"

"I rescheduled. I should've never agreed anyway," he shrugs, reaching out to pull her into his arms and she comes willingly. "I shouldn't have let you do this by yourself."

"I told you it was fine, that'd I'd be fine," she says as she wraps her arms around him and leans into him. "I'm mostly fine."

"You're not fine, look at you," Dieter laughs, pulling away enough to hook a finger in the vee of her shirt, accidentally on purpose undoing one more tiny button and sneaking a peak. "You have a bra on. I wasn't even sure you owned one."

Ava snorts out a laugh and melts back into him, tucking her face into his neck and nipping at the skin there. "Behave, Bravo. We're amongst civilized company here."

"I'll try, but you do look like every sexy librarian fantasy I've ever had," Dieter whispers into her ear, hands sliding down her back to rest on the curve of her ass.

"You're an idiot, bunny" Ava whispers back, holding on to him a little bit tighter. "But I'm so glad you're here."

"Take your sunglasses off," Ava says as they walk hand in hand towards the family room.

"What?"

"We're inside. Pretend you're a normal person and take your sunglasses off."

"But why?"

"Are you high?"

"What? No! I mean, not really, not that anyone could tell," he shrugs.

"Then take them off. Please do not make this any worse than it already will be. When we go in for dinner, sit up straight, keep your elbows off the table, mind your manners and take your sunglasses off."

And with that warning, she escorts him into the belly of the beast.

"We'll have one more guest for dinner," Ava announces to the room and way more people than he expected turn to stare at him. "Some of you have already met Dieter, so I'll just leave you to get reacquainted and set another place at the table."

"Play nice," Ava grins, leaning in to kiss his cheek and giving his hand a quick squeeze before scurrying out of the room like the traitor she is.

He can do this, he tells himself as he hooks his Ray-Bans into his shirt pocket. He can. He's an Oscar winning actor for fucks sake. How bad can one family dinner possibly be?

Three hours later he's hating himself for putting that thought into the universe. Turns out it can be so, so incredibly bad.

Dinner itself was fine, delicious even- the turkey was moist, the potatoes were smooth and buttery, the pumpkin cheesecake was downright sinful.

But the conversation has been downright atrocious. It's as if someone had given Conrad Greene a list of topics not to talk about at a family gathering, and he's tried his damnedest to hit every single one of them.

He's watched Ava's mother masterfully try to steer them into safer conversational waters time and time again, he's listened to all the praise for Drew and the newspaper he can stomach while Ava's own accomplishments get brushed off as inconsequential and she withdraws farther and farther into herself. Even Harry is not exempt from his great grandfather's ire and he watches the bright eyed kid who'd met him at the door deflate like an old party balloon.

Dieter has always thought his own childhood was shitty, but it's nothing compared to this. Sure, he may have never known his dad and his mom may have ditched him, but between his grandparents and Ms. Rose, he'd never once felt anything less than accepted for exactly who he was. Or pressured to be someone he wasn't.

By the time the table is cleared and after dinner coffees are served, his back is starting to hurt from the damned uncomfortable dining chairs, his jaw hurts from clenching his teeth and his fucking knee hurts from how often Ava has dug her nails in to stop him from saying something he most likely shouldn't.

His shades had reappeared at some point to hide how often he was rolling his eyes and Ava was so dejected by that point she hadn't even tried to deter him.

And he's had about enough. Of all of it.

"Are you staying here?" He leans in to ask her.

"No," she shakes her head. "I've been staying at Drew's."

"Great. Did you drive here separately?"

"Yeah, Harry wanted to ride in your Porsche."

"Even better. We're leaving," he announces, pushing his chair back from the table.

"Dieter--"

"We're leaving, Ava. Say your goodbyes and grab your things."

Ava leads Dieter up the side stairs and into the little loft apartment over Drew's garage where she used to live and where she's been staying for the last few days.

"I'm sorry. It didn't....it wasn't always like that," she says as she kicks off her heels. It's the first thing she's said since they left her grandfather's house and Dieter's heart aches for her.

"Ava, honey, you don't have anything to be sorry for. None of that shit is your fault. He's a bitter old man with fucked up ideas of how the world should work."

"Growing up....before my grandmother died....it was different. She tempered him I guess," she shrugs, taking off her pearls and tucking them safely in a little velvet pouch she puts in her make up bag.

"What was she like?" He asks, coming up behind her at the bathroom counter, beginning to hunt for and remove all the pins keeping her hair pulled back.

"She liked to cook and work in her garden, and take Drew and I bargain shopping. She was always smiling or laughing. A little bit mischievous. People gravitated to her. She would've liked you a lot."

"You think so?"

"I do," Ava smiles softly at him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "I wish she would've gotten to know Harry, she would've gotten a kick out of him."

"He's a pretty cool kid," Dieter grins. "Clever, quick-witted. You sure he's not actually yours?"

"Positive," Ava laughs, spinning to face him. "But I did spend a lot of time with him when he was younger. Guess I rubbed off on him."

"Hey, that's not a bad thing, you know that, right? You're incredibly brilliant, Ava. It's their loss if they can't see it."

"I know. I'm working on it...."

"And, you know what else?" he grins, cupping her face in his hands and adopting a ridiculous southern accent. "You deserve to be kissed and often and by someone who knows how."

"And I suppose you think you're the proper person?"

"I might be....if the right moment ever came."

"What about now, Rhett?"

"Thanks not your line, Scarlett."

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

"That's not your line either."

"Hey, Bravo....shut up and kiss me already."

And he does.

[ochrearia]

"What Happened To You?"

And here comes the revelation that I know a lot more about wyd!BF's lore than people probably thought, mainly because I helped Karl brainstorm a lot of it SADSFDGFHGJ Think FAST chucklenuts throws this mean shit at you

BFs in this drabble: wyd!BF (Beef, Karl's), Yourself (YS)

“Why the hell am I the only one of us bitches that gets stuck here?!”

Beef couldn’t remember who came up with the name on the sign, or why this damn thing existed for that matter, but it was a running joke and none of the others were letting it go. Especially YS, who happened to be the owner of the room it was in. Literally just one of the corners of his room, with a shitty cardboard sign taped up having the words ‘dumb idiot corner for dumbers’ written on it. It wasn’t even good handwriting either.

“Because you think first with your anger and not with your brain.” YS responded bluntly, arms folded as he stood in front of him. “And it doesn’t seem like my words alone do anything to get you to realize that’s not a good fucking idea, so, dumb corner you go. Time out.”

“This is so unfair.” Beef whined, bringing his knees up to his chest. Why the hell was he starting to get genuinely upset over this? It was a dumb gimmick and nothing more. YS never made him sit there for very long anyways, but it was really only him. Always him. Did he really have that bad of anger issues?

Yes, you do, need we go over all of the times you went too far in the last month or so?

Oh good, his thoughts were against him too. Like it couldn’t get any fucking worse anyways, everyone was always against him. He could never catch a break. For once, could something just go his way without him walking on eggshells to achieve it?

YS sighed, shaking his head knowingly before moving to sit right next to the upset and stewing counterpart. “Not like any of us are any smarter, anyway.” He stuck his thumb up to point at the sign, burying his other hand into Beef’s hair to ruffle it gently. “Different approaches to different problems, that’s all. Remember that I really do want to help. But I don’t know everything. I don’t know how to approach everything the right way on the first try. But I’m trying more than once, that counts for something yeah?”

That was…true. None of his other selves had tried to run off on him yet. All of them knew at this point that he was quick to anger, even over the smallest things, or things that didn’t even affect him directly. Always so angry, and what for?

“It’s still unfair.” Beef insisted with a sniff, refusing to look at his big bro- YS. He was refusing to look at YS. Now was not the time for his jealousy to start kicking his shit in. If YS wanted to act like a big brother to him like he did with Biff, he couldn’t force that. Trying to do so would only make it disingenuous.

God, but it would be so nice to have their brotherly relationship.

“Life’s unfair, dumbass, that’s why we’re all here living it.” YS replied with a slight grin. “A bunch of idiots, all with shitty problems, orbiting around each other because one of us decided to fuck around and bring us all together. Not sure how we’d all be fairing if I’d just minded my own business. Well, I know how I would be. But the rest of you still have GFs and Picos to fall back on. I think everyone would’ve been fine eventually. Doesn’t stop me from wanting to help anyways. Make that progress even slightly faster and it’s worth it to me.”

“You sound like such a corny sap.” Beef commented, turning to stick out his tongue. “Thanks for the help, or whatever, but you’ve put me in the dumb corner for like the fifth time in two weeks and I am not going to forgive you. Not even into the next life. You’re dead to me.”

“Well that’s not very nice.” YS frowned over-dramatically, which that frown immediately returned to being a mischievous grin. The hand he’d left ruffling Beef’s hair moved to curl around his farther shoulder, pulling the smaller one towards him and wrapping him up in a sudden hug.

“What the- hey! Let go of me, you’re like a parasitic weight, what the fuck!” Beef hollered, struggling against YS’s lanky grip. “Get off, you’re weird and slenderman says he wants his job back!”

“Hmm, nah.” YS grinned, hugging Beef to his chest instead. “You morons can’t fool me, Peacock and Bee snitched. Heard you and the other three gloat about my hugs. Told me you’re all addicted, so I know you actually want this. You’re just leading with your anger before your thoughts again.”

“Ugh! Traitors and liars, why would you believe anything they say?! They just got here, surely the weight of my words should be higher than theirs right now. Why would you believe I would be addicted to your hugs for any reason, that’s bullshit!”

“Why are you leaning into it then?” YS taunted, still not letting go. “Why are you letting your arms return the sentiment if you don’t want it? Hot ball of hollow fire you are. Maybe we didn’t get off on the right foot at the start, and maybe I could’ve done better to be patient. But I think I know now that your anger usually isn’t actually real. Just a defense mechanism for a silly idiot who just wants to be safe.”

“Prick.” Beef spat, but he couldn’t contest that. Safe. That was a nice word. The fire quickly went out, not that it was even really real anyways. He sighed, squeezing tighter and pushing his nose into YS’s shoulder. Safe. It was good to be safe. He liked feeling like people weren’t going to run off on him for one mistake. He made so many already, it was a damn miracle that he still had anyone left. He really had to wonder why GF and Pico were still with him every once and a while, with the things he’s said in the recent past.

Oh. Small plucking notes started dancing in the air, YS apparently seeing it fit to use his magic to broadcast some sort of music-box lullaby. Placating him? Putting out the angry fire long after it had already gone, maybe he was trying to make sure it never came back? Fuck, how was anyone supposed be mad at or hate this guy when this was the shit he was willing to do for other people?

The bumps. The bumps on the taller’s back, the memory of them zapping back into Beef’s brain when his hands roamed a little too high and found them again. They were small, almost not noticeable but there was something a little too sharp about them to be the normal back muscles you’d find there. Something a little too out of place. A hidden accessory? No, that couldn’t be it. That wouldn’t make sense. Not with how they were placed, too symmetrical. And they gave way slightly under the pressure of his hands. He felt YS tense, cluing in to where his hands were all of a sudden. This was probably the only chance he was going to get. Say it, now, oh but what if it was the wrong thing to say? Say it now!

“What… happened to you?” Speaking wasn’t something Beef believed he should be allowed to do. Too many times it was his words from his accursed lips that started it all. Something that, seemingly, was going to happen again.

YS’s arms retracted quickly, almost quicker than a human should be able to move. The magic keeping the music box lullaby vanished into nothing, notes at the very end strangling themselves and dying into nothing but a whisper to be remembered by. Beef could only try to catch his mind up to speed as YS pushed away, standing up. Gone was the safety, almost in record time, and something about that set Beef’s entire body on fire. Not with anger. A fire that hurt even worse than anger could. Fear. Fear that he was going to be left abandoned by someone he’d just started to trust, just started to care for dearly. Not again. Not again-

“H-hold on, wait!” Beef cried, surging forward and catching YS by the arm just as he started to walk away. The taller one wouldn’t dare look at him, and he was starting to panic. No, don’t do this, come on. I’m sorry, I didn’t think that was going to be all it took to fuck it all up! Don’t go! “Don’t go. Please…”

Something about that raw, whimpering plea changed the atmosphere. YS’s head turned back to face him. It had to be some trick of his magic, how much the shadows over his eyes would stretch to the rest of his face when something went wrong. But his eyes were still visible, and somehow all wrong compared to what Beef was used to seeing. Eyes a little frantic, searching all over his face, and suddenly watery, and there was a pained grimace on his face that made his teeth bare in a sad way. And maybe that caused Beef to freak out a little more, because how can one question cause so much damage in just a few moments?! What the hell had happened to him that would make him react so poorly!?

For a second Beef thought he was going to continue to run off. Those were the eyes of a panicked animal, something he’d seen before with his Pico (guiltily, he remembered how recently that was too). Was it his fault, again? Why did he keep making people run away from him?

“I’m- I’m sorry-” Beef stumbled, freaked out and nervous, and maybe already horrendously guilty. What was he doing? He couldn’t keep YS here. That wasn’t right, and he knew it. Pushing past the aching fear in his veins, he hesitantly moved to let go of his arm. To let him go, because so many times people had run off on him he was starting to believe that it was supposed to be that way. But…

His arm was stopped. Just as his hand let go, suddenly YS was holding him by the wrist- tightly. Beef kept looking at him, and fuck, eye contact was suddenly so hard when you were madly unsure. But something crumbled in YS’s eyes, and the beginnings of tears started pooling at their edges. Suddenly, the taller one knelt down in front of him again, and now hugging him even tighter than before. Beef didn’t dare try to pretend not to want it this time, holding tight where he could, making an honest effort not to let his hands fall too high up on the other’s back this time. It was clear that YS just wanted to hide his face. Something that a hug was also good at doing.

Beef’s vision slightly blurred, blinking away the beginnings of tears of his own. Eyebrows, furrowing between a mix of panic and pure concern. What happened to you? Four words and it’s like the world’s falling apart. A trauma response… has to be.

Just like Pico.

You’re not going to damage this one beyond any logical repair. You can’t. Not this time, don’t waste everything he’s tried to teach you.

“I- It’s okay.” Beef tried, squeezing back tightly. Heartbreaking, really, when he felt YS shaking slightly in his hold. That hadn’t been something he’d seen the other do, even with that nasty breakdown a while ago. How deep did this wound go? “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t need to answer that. Just… I’m sorry.”

One step at a time. Think with your head, not your anger.

The other didn’t respond. Just arms, squeezing tighter, as tight as they could without starting to cause physical pain. A distraction, a desperate need for comfort over something that was invisible to Beef. But that didn’t matter. If it was bad enough to make arguably the strongest version of himself break down so fast and so easily, then it didn’t need to be spoken. He would offer as much as he could to help it go away. Maybe not go away, Beef couldn’t make something like that go away. But he could help calm him down.

Yeah, calm him down. Beef thought, gently digging his chin into the shoulder his head rested on again. No fire, no fear. I can do that.

Pay no mind to the faint, ghostly vision of white wings from his back.