#watch me struggle and tag the whole family

[glxybld-mustdie]

tumblr would you appreciate my umbrella academy art that i made after finishing the first volume of the comics???

it’s actually just a bunch of scenes from the comic, the cover and some other bs but i mean tumblr is nicer than pinterest and those guys didn’t really like it i think

edit: i’ve actually posted it btw, go check my side blog @space-violin

[random-thoughts-uwu]

𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝

yall this is probably the biggest hear me out but like just HEAR ME OUT.

tags: blade x reader, yingxing x reader, angst??, fluff??, sfw, established relationship ... apologies if its not written well, this is at like 2 am

So, Blade is basically like the love child of Nanook and Yaoshi or whatever, right? He's got both of their things. BUT. BUT. WHAT IF. Yaoshi didn't actually give him the innate ability to regenerate/revive/heal whatever, and instead it was assigned to YOU. Blade's past lover.

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Wayyy back during the HighCloud Quintet and all that fun stuff, YOU were Yingxing's dearest.

He was a craftsman, and you were you, a medic. During your young ages you would often watch him and admire his handiwork and skills, and were also the one to scold him and bandage his hands or relieve burns and cuts. You went from childhood friends to awkward young teens, struggling to communicate with each other. He was shy and insecure, often doubting his own charms and self worth, while you were in a similar boat, not wanting to confess and ruin your friendship or make things even more tense between the two of you. This awkward little dance continued on until Baiheng came along and helped you two. Yingxing finally gained the courage to confess to you, which you wholeheartedly accepted (the confession may or may not have been to the partial credit of Dan Feng and the others, who probably drowned Yingxing in advice and suggestions for the special occasion).

You still remember it pretty well; how could you not? You were all just a group of silly teens trying to navigate the messy thing we call life. The whole gang were gathered on the best patch of grass in the area, laying back and gazing up at the starry night sky. It was a summer night, with a cool breeze and the sound of crickets and the low hum of the streets in the distance as people settled in for the night. Somehow, the others managed to discreetly leave without you noticing, leaving just you and Yingxing. And the rest was history.

The two of you grew up together, sharing accomplishments and memories, from tender moments alone together to loud and energetic ones with your friends, to intense and life threatening, adrenaline pumping scenes on the battlefield. Before you both knew it, you were married and happily enjoying the company of your friends and family. Every day you would assist Yingxing in his duties, visit him with cool drinks or praise his latest weapon, and nights were either spent in long walks around the Luofu or cuddling beneath the stars, with whatever cuts lovingly tended to and ailments cured.

"Y/N...I'm home," came his soft, slightly weary voice as he steps into the modest place you two called your own. "Welcome home, dearest," your soft voice responds with a warm smile, drawing him into your arms where he lets out a long breath, slowly reciprocating the hug and nuzzling into your shoulder. "I missed you," he muttered, his rich voice muffled by your skin as he pressed a few light kisses to it. In the kitchen, the food is warm. "I missed you too..." you cooed, nuzzling against the side of his face and peppering him with kisses, which he melts into with a satisfied smile.

"Yingxing!" You quickly scold, drawing back as you saw the cuts on his hands and holding them in your own. He only responds with a cocky grin. "My goodness," you uttered with a heavy sigh, setting him down on the couch as you pulled out your kit and diligently tended to his hands. "Just a few scratches, nothing I can't take- mh!" he was quick to muffle a wince as you dabbed the alcohol a little harder than normal, giving him a deadpanned look. All was forgiven in the end of course, as you kissed his bandaged palms and gave him his proper greeting, seated on his lap as his lips met yours, his hands slipping out of yours to tenderly brush your hair away from your face, his softened gaze meeting yours. "Thank you, my love."

And of course, we can't forget Baiheng's death. It was a noble one that left you all in pieces, with Dan Feng and Yingxing in disbelief and denial. The two researched for a way to revive her, and despite your pleading to Yingxing, crying to him to stay with you, to accept Baiheng's noble death, he simply couldn't.

"Yingxing!" He's never heard your voice like that, so full of raw emotion, of fear and hurt and confusion and pain and- "Please, Yingxing!" Your hands grasp his, squeezing them with desperation as your widened eyes meet his, wet with tears. "You know you can't do this! I loved Baiheng just as much, and I know this is hard, but we have to let her go!"

It killed him, seeing the state his own decisions left you in. You felt a resentment towards him, but that was only the mask of hurt, betrayal, sadness, and an overwhelming sense of love. He knows that if he could, he would go back and chose you. You, and you, and you, all over and over again. You were hurt beyond imagination seeing the scene before you, watching the man you loved most get taken from you, turned into the so-called abomination today.

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Time went on, eventually taking your lonely soul.

Things after that...were very complicated. It's all a blur in your mind, but whatever happened, you were back with your lover, but not quite. You were simply assigned by Yaoshi to "protect" Blade and revive him whenever he died. While it felt cruel to keep your lover from returning to you, you were aware of his punishment. You couldn't hold onto the resentment you felt once before when he chose Baiheng's failed revival over you, seeing the state of the man now. No matter how much time passes, how many things come between you, your love for him is unfortunately everlasting, and you have a strong feeling that it will remain that way for eternity.

Nobody could see you; you were essentially his "guardian angel" in some sense. You were simply there, watching him with soft eyes, being his brief moment of tranquility in his deaths: a nameless being, a faceless entity, warm, tender fingers caressing him and his worn heart, soft lips against his calloused skin, gentle whispers that echoed in his mind and left him with something akin to peace for those few moments. He knew he wouldn't get his proper death for some time, but he sure will keep trying nonetheless. If not for an eternal rest, then for the dark, empty, yet warm and fulfilling moments of respite. Sometimes, he could almost swear he heard a voice calling him, a soft and familiar one, calling his old name, whether it be in his black dreams or moments of death.

It pained you to see him like this now: the caring, charming yet arrogant man now reduced to what he viewed as a lifeless weapon. The craftsman-- now the unfortunate craft and only a shell of what once was.

It's lonely, living like this. If you could even call it living. You wish you could talk to him, to meet his gaze once more and ask him why. You wish to kiss his lips and share soft whispers in the dead of night. But you can't, and sometimes you wish that you could have been left in the realm of the dead. But this was somewhat worth it, to continue to heal his wounds and kiss the scars along his skin whether he could feel it or not, to keep him alive and only pray that someday, he can find his peace and tranquility, find something to make his life worth living for. You're thankful for the Stellaron Hunters, despite the nature of their work, you can feel a bit of happiness, seeing them treat him like a human being. From Kafka's nickname, to Firefly and Silverwolf's antics.

You stand with him, watching the bloody scene before you, your fingers trailing along one of his injuries, the skin closing and flesh healing. You sigh softly, your hand lingering on his back as you lean your head against his shoulder. You're certain he can't feel or see you, but it brings you a semblance of comfort nonetheless. He gives a long sigh, straightening up. He doesn't need to turn his head, recognizing the familiar clicking of shoes against the cold ground. "Good job here, Bladie," Kafka comments. Silverwolf gives a faint hum in agreement, her fingers taping along her screen. "Yeah, thanks for covering us, man." "We're done here. Let's go."

Sometimes, you like to "hold" his hand, gazing up at him. So much has changed. And you desperately wish you could still be with him, despite the his actions that led him here. No matter how much you try, you can't stay mad. Baiheng was a good friend to you all, and she didn't deserve the death she got. But oh, how you wish you could go back and somehow change it all. Scenes of your past life always replay in your mind, remembering the good and the bad. It gives you a bit of a smile, recalling the whispered promises beneath the moonlight, arguments and disagreements that ended with kisses and apologies, running your fingers through his long, silky hair as you held him, sharing a cool drink in the shade and conversing about your days.

Blade, the immortal swordsman. A nightmare, a mara-stricken monster. But to you, he will always be Yingxing, your lover.

art credit: https://m.weibo.cn/detail/5068654389233859, @/ahriii7 on twt, LEMONNNICK on pinterest banner edit by me!

[writingsbychlo]

WITHDRAWAL | theodore nott

summary; theo decides to quit smoking, but doesn't realise that his decision would affect his girlfriend, too.

word count; 3007

notes; just a cute, fluffy little piece based on something that I was tagged in about 2 months ago! unfortunately, I cannot find the original post or tagger, but if it's you, please let me know!!

If there was one thing about Theodore Nott that couldn't be denied, it was that he loved with everything he had. 

He loved his friends; he was loyal to a fault and he’d never let them down. He loved his family, he wrote over fifteen letters a week to all his aunties and cousins, and still held onto his mother’s recipe book, even to this day. 

And he loved, adored, his girlfriend with everything that he had. He’d do anything for her, crawl across hot coals if she asked, give up his magic and his money and his legacy, just to make her happy. She’d never asked as such of him, still blushed when he pulled out his wallet when they shopped and smiled brighter than the sun when he gave her a handmade card or something he’d cooked. So, to his eyes, it didn’t seem all that much when he decided to give up smoking for her. 

She hadn't asked him to, never even pulled a face when he smoked. But Theo was damn sick of trying to blow the smoke away from her when she joined him at the astronomy tower, cuddled up to his chest, because he didn’t want that poison near her. He hated watching her shiver on the colder nights, he hated waking her in the middle of the night when he got up to satiate that itch, and he hated thinking of a future where he left her too soon, running short on time, because he ruined himself.

He chucked his last box into the fireplace one impulsive morning, and thought he might go cold turkey. He’d been so moody by lunchtime that he’d almost bitten Enzo’s head off over the way he pronounced ‘tomato’. That afternoon, he’d ditched his classes and trudged through the snow to the floo connection at the Hog’s Head, and picked up enough nicotine patches from a muggle supply store to knock out a fully grown Hippogriff.

He’d torn the packaging off of one in the grimy restroom at the back of the store and slapped it onto his bicep, and almost collapsed from the relief it gave him. It wasn’t nearly as effective as picking up a packet from the newsagent’s stand he’d passed would’ve been, but as soon as his fingers had twitched to pick up a box, your face had flashed through his mind. Your face, smiling at him, your face that morning telling him how proud you were of him when he’d shared his goals in hopes of support, and it was enough to deter him from the purchase.

You were his strength, once again, as you’d always been. 

And truly, you were so proud of Theo. Changing his patches for him every evening, in time with that first one. Reading up on the muggle solutions, and making sure you were fully versed on how to help him. Keeping him busy seemed to help, when he got bored, his eyes started flicking towards the door, and the slight irritability he’d been able to keep a lid on pretty well would begin to flare up. For the most part, he’d been staying at your dorm, in an active attempt to keep away from Mattheo, who wasn’t quite ready to give up his comfortable vice just yet. 

Unfortunately, as the days went on, while Theo seemed to be handling it just fine, you were struggling. The irritability grew, even Draco’s breathing was making you want to snap pencils in half in the library, or throw Enzo off the astronomy tower if he scraped his fork on his plate one more time. You were ravenous, and nauseous, all at the same time. You wanted to eat everything but could hardly hold it down. You were dizzy, and fatigued, and your grades were going to start slipping if this continued, because it had been almost a week since you’d been able to concentrate on any thought longer than a minute, never mind a whole class. 

And now, you were lying in bed, rubbing at your eyes angrily but unable to sleep as you stared at the ceiling. Theo, for once, was sleeping soundly beside you. Since giving up smoking, his sleep patterns had been getting better, while yours were getting worse by the night. Almost a week, and you’d barely gotten nine hours of sleep put together. 

When you shuffled again, pressing yourself a little closer to Theo as you rolled onto your side, he began to surface. The arm over your midriff tightened, pulling you in until your hips were bracketed against his, and he chuckled sleepily into your neck. Burying himself in, he pressed a kiss there, and another, and another. The rough pounding of your heart settled as you clasped Theo’s hand in your own, holding them to your chest as he littered your shoulder with kisses. 

At your sigh, he rolled you over, propping himself up on his elbow and yawning. Shaking his hand free from your own, he stroked the back of a finger along your cheek, and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. As his hand settled on the side of your neck instead, yours slipped up to cup his jaw, and you melted into the tender love he offered you in the darkest hours. 

“What’s wrong, tesoro? Why are you awake?”

“Why are you awake?” you rebuffed, fingers lifting to comb through his hair, to push it back out of his eyes as he blinked himself a little more awake.

He shrugged, “This is about the time I’d normally go for a smoke.” He murmured, and your eyes flickered to the clock. 

You knew well enough the schedule Theo used to keep while smoking. Your timetable had slowly synched to it over the time you’d been dating. He’d wake up during the night, at some point around two, and disappear for a smoke. He’d take twenty minutes, or thirty if he bumped into Mattheo, and then he’d come back to bed. 

You didn’t mind the disturbance. Not when he’d come back slightly chilled from the night air and snuggle in close to you, wrapping himself around you.

“Actually, this is the time you’d normally come back from having a smoke, and give me my midnight kisses.”

“Is that why my girl is so restless tonight? Because I owe her some kisses?” He teased, leaning down until your noses were bumping, and you could taste the mint on his breath. Normally, he tasted like smoke, not toothpaste, and the shock of his warm lips instead of cold ones made you hum. 

The languid kisses melted the time away, his hand sliding up your shirt, sitting on your ribs and squeezing softly as he lowered himself down, covering your body with his own. Theo had always been your comfort, and your happy place. Being in his arms made you feel safe, and his kisses made you feel relaxed. As he licked his way into your mouth lazily, you anticipated the hazy blur of relaxation that usually followed when he kissed you. 

But, like usual recently, it never came. Instead, when he finally pulled back, and pecked the tip of your nose, he found you frowning, instead of smiling up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” You huffed, frustrated at yourself, at your confusion and the growing irrational irritation. “It’s not the same.”

“What’s not the same, bella?”

“Your… your kisses.” Your words trailed to a whisper, knowing he wouldn't understand, and the hurt that flickered across his face made your heartbreak. 

“They’re not?”

“No. I don’t know why.” His lips curled further at the sides, and the look on his face made you want to cry. It made you hate yourself, aggressively, and if you could tear out your own heart and give it to him just to see him smile again, you would. Just another thing you’d been suffering with lately, an overwhelm of your emotions, worse than any mood swing you got when you were on your period. “It’s not you, Teddy, it’s me. You’re still my happy place, you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s me. I’m the problem.”

“You’re not a problem, bella. But we should figure it out. I don’t want to… kiss you wrong, and see that look on your face. What’s different, tell me what’s changed?” His sweet words made tears prickle at your eyes, and you sniffed sadly as you looked at him. 

“I love you so much, Theo.”

“I know, tesoro. I love you too.” His thumb smoothed over your cheek, “Tell me.”

“I don’t know!” Your snap made his eyes widen. “You’re just… different. You don’t kiss the same way, you used to get all needy when you came back from a smoke, but you don’t anymore, and you taste different! You taste like mint right now, and it just doesn’t make me feel the same way afterwards.”

Your words were jumbled and hurried, rushed out as you smoked them and his brows furrowed as he tried to decipher what you meant. Second ticked by into silent minutes as Theo’s wonderful mind ticked and whirred, thinking the problem through, and playing with the information. Then, before you could say anything else, something clicked. You could see it in his eyes, when the gears stopped turning and the thoughts stopped flowing because he’d found the answer. 

Pulling away from you, he sat up, kicking back the covers and letting in the cold air, before moving across the room and shuffling through his gym kit left in the corner. Pulling out a nicotine packet from the box inside, he shook it out, using his teeth to tear open the packet as he made his way back to the bed. Sitting yourself up, you propped yourself in the pillows as he peeled off the plastic backing, and tried to unstick his fingers from it, holding it by the corners. 

“You’ve only had your patch on for nine hours, Teddy, it’s not time to change yet.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head and settling in beside you on the bed, legs folded underneath himself. “This isn’t for me, bella. Take off your shirt.” 

Slipping your arm out of your shirt, you pushed it to the side, watching as Theo brushed cotton fibres off of your shoulder, before sealing the patch onto your skin. He made sure it was properly sealed down, flattening it to your skin, before feeding your arm back through the sleeve of your shirt. He smoothed the top back down your torso, pressing a cheeky kiss to your breast over your heart as he did, and sitting back on his legs to wait. 

“Give it a second, then tell me how you feel.” He whispered, the moment feeling entirely too fragile as his hand took yours, fingers linked together. He kissed along your knuckles, his eyes locked on your face, waiting. And the moment you felt it hit, you knew he saw it too. 

It was like a cool, soothing balm over a raw, aggravated wound. It felt like running cold water on a new burn or healing a painful graze with a quick Episky. “Oh, Merlin…”

“I know, tell me about it.” He mumbled, the smile on his face at victoriously solving the problem melting away as realisation set in. “Cazzo, bella, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have a nicotine addiction, and it’s my fault. All that time you spent with me at the tower, and the smoke on me, and kissing you as soon as I finished smoking. All your moodiness these last few days—”

“Hey!”

“It’s true, baby. It all makes sense.” He rubbed a hand over his face, and squeezed your hand tighter in the other. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I quit because I didn’t want this to happen to you, I didn’t want my problems to poison you, but it’s too late.”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me, Teddy.” You demand again, pulling him in, and his mouth collides with yours as he makes a subtle groan of surprise and pleasure. 

His hand gripped the headboard behind you, the other skimming down your side. As you leaned back into the pillows, you took him with you, his body falling over your own, slotting between your thighs as our hearts thudded together where his chest pressed to yours. Your hands slid over his shoulders, skimming down his back, and he moaned again as your fingernails scraped across his lower back as you tugged at his shirt. 

He sat up, letting you pull it off of him, before his arms were back, caging you in on either side as he fell back down against you. Pulling one of your legs up to sit on his hip, he dragged himself away from your mouth, trailing wet kisses down your jaw, to the pulse point on your neck and back up. 

“Merde, bella. What’s gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining.”

“You’re perfect, Theo.” You smiled, leaning up to steal more kisses from his lips that he was happy to reciprocate, “You’re perfect, your kisses are perfect. I knew it was me, not you. I was the problem.”

“A problem I gave you,” He groaned, his hips rolling against your own as you giggled breathlessly. 

“Yeah, whatever. Now we’re quitting together. That’s the promise we made, we do everything together, right?”

“Damn right, tesoro.” He growled, teeth nipping at the underside of your jaw, as he began to make his way down your body. Your fingers were loose in his hair, settling back in the pillows, eyes slipping closed as he kissed along the insides of your thighs, teasingly. Finally, your body could relax, no longer tense and buzzing, but the foggy comfort of the night made your muscles ease into the bed, your body feeling heavy, and you sighed in bliss. 

Theo mumbled something, and you let your legs fall a little further apart, but your grip on consciousness was falling further and further away as the nicotine coursed through your body, finally letting you ease into sleep you’d missed for days.

“Bella,” Theo said, his voice sharper, and you stirred, working hard to force your eyes open, but they’d only made it halfway. His hair was ruffled, eyes wide and lips swollen, but his smirk melted away from his face into a tender smile as he looked down at you. 

“Sorry, what’d you say, baby?” The words slurred out of you, and he chuckled. His fingers unhooked from the sides of your shorts, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead. “M’sorry, I’m so sleepy all of a sudden.”

“S’okay, bella. Never apologise. C’mere, let’s just cuddle.”

Tucking your body into his, you shuffled your hips back into him, and he threw his leg over yours as he held you tight to his body. “You’re hard.”

“It’ll go down, don’t worry.” He snickered, kissing the back of your head. “S’your fault anyway.”

“Sorry…” You whispered, again, sleepily. “I’ll make it up t’you t’morrow.”

“Go to sleep, amore.”

But you’d already drifted off.

It was just as you were closing your History of Magic book, that Theo announced his presence in the common room as he walked in alongside Mattheo. They were loud, and raucous, and thankfully, you were less inclined to bite their heads off for it today. 

In fact, alongside Enzo, you’d been able to catch up on all of the History homework you’d been missing out on for the last week or so, getting you back on track for at least one of your subjects. 

“Patch change time, bella!” Theo announced, making his way over to you as he untucked his shirt and began to undo the buttons down the front. Tugging the tie out of the way, he crashed down ungracefully onto the couch beside you, Mattheo nudging Draco to move up so he could sit down too. 

This had become a regular part of your routine now, and you pushed the edges of his half-unbuttoned shirt aside to reveal the patch sitting on the middle of his left pectoral. Picking at one corner, you peeled it away gently, careful not to tug on his skin as you did, and Theo watched on adoringly in silence as you took care of him. Unwrapping a new patch, you brushed off the spot, before sticking a new patch onto him and smoothing down the bandage. 

He patted it himself, before doing a couple of the buttons on his shirt back up for modesty, as though he hadn't already given half of the common room a show, before he leaned in to peck your lips. His fingers fell to the buttons of your shirt, and he began to undo them slowly. “Your turn.”

He undid just enough to reveal your shoulder, without letting anyone else catch a glimpse of anything underneath, and as he leaned down to begin peeling away the old patch, you caught Enzo’s confused expression. 

“Why are you wearing a patch?” He asked, and Theo laughed to himself quietly as he changed your old one out. 

“Because loverboy here got me addicted too, through kisses and secondary smoke.”

The others burst out laughing, unfettered by your glaring as they made kissy sounds and crude remarks, while Theo buttoned your shirt back up. Your glare turned to him as you caught sight of his smile, and he shrugged, a lopsided smile on his lips. “What can I say, bella? I’m just that good.”

“Oh, shut it,” You smacked his chest, and he took your hand, tugging you forward to cuddle you into his chest as he kissed your temple. 

“I happen to think it’s adorable that as a by-product of how you got addicted, that means you were addicted to me.”

“Mhmm.” Your eyes rolled, and he squeezed you even tighter. 

“You had me addicted to you without any substances at all, bella. Just you.”

“Alright,” You scoff, “Stop sweet-talking me.”

“Never.”

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

The Return of Superman- Jaemin

(cw: f!reader called “mama”, children)

Jaemin liked his privacy. He liked knowing that only certain parts of his life were shown, certain parts he shared, he liked having the clear distinction or public and private. He, of course, enjoyed providing content for his fans and living a dream that millions of people could only dream of.

He got the best of both worlds. He got to date you for a good few years without getting caught, he'd spent two years of newlywed marital bliss with you with only so much as a statement from his company to let the world know that he was a married man. When he was asked about you, his wife, he merely smiled and expertly evaded answering. So how did he get himself here?

What had happened in his years of famous privacy to now allow a whole camera crew into his home to film him and his daughters-- who, no one had even seen since they were posted with obscured faces in a birth announcement post 3 years ago?!

It had definitely been his management that suggested he do the show, they planted the seed in his brain, but it was you who pushed him to do it! "Come on, my love, the fans will love it. You can do just one episode and then the girls won't be seen until their 30! Come on, it'll be fun," You'd convinced him. And Jaemin, well, he wasn't a strong man when his wife was whispering so sweetly in his ear and pressing even sweeter kisses against his cheeks.

So that's how he got into this mess, at least he would have you to help him out... right, he wouldn't. Damn this show!

-

"Would you stop rubbing your head against the pillow, please?! Appa just did your hair!" Jaemin yelled in exasperation, his eyes locked on the three year old who for some reason was rubbing her head across the pillows on his bed. Meanwhile, his hands were preoccupied with the identical girl standing on a stool right in front of him.

"Well, what an introduction to the Na family," a commentator laughs while they all watch Jaemin struggle to pull one of his daughter's hair into a bun while simultaneously also trying to sweet talk the other twin to stop being a menace. He was unsuccessful.

The scene cuts to show Jaemin sitting in front of a black backdrop smiling at the cameras as he introduces himself, "Hello, I'm Na Jaemin from NCT. I have twin daughters, Taera and Sora. They're both 3 years and 5 months old and the light of my life-- along with my wife, of course. Taera is the older of the two and struggles with listening, at least to me while Sora is the better listener of the two."

The producer behind the camera asks a question and Jaemin listens intently before answering, "honestly, of the two of us, I'm the parent that let's the girls get away with a lot. She plays the authoritarian role, which admittedly, I struggle with. The girls are just too cute to get mad at!" He takes a break to think over his answer, "I do think it will be a little difficult with it being just me and the girls. Usually my wife and I are each responsible for one of the girls, and we rarely go out just one of us with both of them. It will be very interesting to see how this plays out."

-

The scene cuts to a scene of the toddlers running around the living room, hair done in tiny buns on top of their head, looking messy, though no one can tell whether that's from their running around or their dad's lack of skill. Jaemin can be seen scrambling around the kitchen filling matching purple and pink water bottles with water and tossing snacks into the bags.

"I wonder what Jaemin is getting the girls ready for..." One of the commentators adds as the girls play tag with each other, giggling wildly.

There's nothing telling quite yet, both girls are wearing matching pastel pink shirts and pink sweat pants with white socks. Jaemin wrestles them into sweaters, then their backpacks, and finally their matching Crocs. He holds one twin on each hip, making his way to the car to load them into car seats.

"Wow! He's a professional! Look at the way he carries both of them at once!" A commentator exclaims in wonder.

"Wait a second, this song sounds familiar," Another commentator adds quickly. The panel quiets down, all eyes locked on the screen to watch the girls dance around in their car seats.

"Chew-chew-chew-chew chewing gum! Chew-chew-chew-chew," the girls chant, legs kicking out as they wiggle and dance in their chairs. They look so happy, smiles plastered on their faces and Jaemin, he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else right now. His face is set in a mild frown, listening to this repetitive song that he made when he was 16.

-

The scene changes, showing Jaemin helping one of the girls into a tutu while the other, who is already dressed, twirls around laughing as her skirt flares out. "Oh my! The girls are in ballet! How cute!" One of the producers coos.

Jaemin can be seen sitting in front of the black screen once more. "Oh yes, the girls are trying out ballet. We want to get them more involved in other activities and find some way to get their energy out. They're not very... good yet, but it is only their third lesson. I think Sora might be more of a ballerina in the future, and maybe Taera will be better at something more... energetic."

True to his word, the scene cuts to show a very focused Sora following her dance teacher's instructions. Her arms are posed in front of her while in the first position. She listens intently and copies the teacher's moves, she wiggles her feet out until they point outward and extends her arm.

"Good job, Sora. That's perfect!" The teacher praises softly. Sora giggles excitedly, a blush spreading across her small, chubby cheeks.

On the opposite end of the room, her twin is jumping and reaching for the small window that allows parents to look into the small studio. Jaemin is busy taking pictures of Sora among other adoring parents to send to you when he hears a familiar sound, even muffled he'd know that sound anywhere. He casts his eyes down and catches Taera with tears in her eyes and red cheeks with her arms reaching for the window.

Jaemin jumps into action quickly, moving his way through the small group of parents around the window and enters the small room with a look of concern on his face. Taera has never reacted like this before. He pulls Taera into a hug, calming her down until her tears have stopped. He sends an apologetic smile to the teacher and she sends him a small bat of her hand as if to say, 'it's fine.' Jaemin cups Taera's face, wiping away her remaining tears with the pads of his thumbs, "princess, what's wrong?"

She lets out a shuddery breath, her tiny chest trembling while she tries to breathe in a deep breath, "I want Mama to watch me too."

Jaemin feels his heart break, pouting sympathetically at his daughter, "I want her to be here too, princess, but she'll be back before you know it. Tomorrow we can wake up early and make breakfast for her when she gets back. How does that sound?"

"With berries?" Taera asks with wide eyes.

Jaemin laughs softly, booping the girl's nose, "yes, with berries. Now, go be a good big sister and dance with Sora. We can't leave her alone can we?"

"No," She smiles, turning to run to her sister's side before she comes bounding back to Jaemin. She presses a kiss to Jaemin's cheek, "love you, Appa. Stay with us?"

Like Jaemin said, he can never say no to them. Instead of joining the rest of the parents on the other side of the small window, he finds himself following along with the teacher's instructions behind the rest of the children in the class.

His daughter's turn to look at him with the biggest smiles he's ever seen. They're so excited that he's in class with him and even more so, doing the dances with them!

The commentators coo at the scene, gushing over Jaemin being such a good dad. He raises his arms, drops them, extends them forward, and situates his feet into the right positions to follow along with the teacher.

At the very end of the episode and his girls sit in front of the black backdrop. The girls raise their arms over their heads, forming the biggest hearts their little bodies will allow. In unison, all three Na's scream out, "we love you Mama!"

Jaemin leans forward, getting close to the camera with his arms wrapped around the twins to keep them from falling, "you're not allowed to leave me alone with these monsters ever again!"

The girls giggles persist as the episode fades away, a faint, "but Appa you said we're princesses."

"Yes, baby I did say that. You're like monster princesses, do you like that?"

The girls can be heard screaming a loud, "no!" in perfect harmony.

[gods-perfect-idiots]

Okay bear with me folks, I have some ~thoughts~ about the Vanessa/Wade relationship (or frankly lack thereof) in Deadpool & Wolverine. I should start by saying that I am analyzing this with the (likely erroneous) assumption that everything on screen is 100% intentional and mindfully written to deepen the characters and inform their arcs. For the record, I don't necessarily believe that's true - there is certainly room for mistakes, lazy writing, confusing plot elements, or in this case, sidelining a potentially strong and important character for nebulous reasons (I'm guessing scheduling conflicts + run time concerns + actor's strike complications but idk for sure). (Also thanks to @gossippool and @kendyroy for encouraging me to post my thoughts instead of just rambling in the tags in the first place, y'all are the realest)

Long rambly post below the cut fyi

Now, granted, it has been a while since I watched the original Deadpool so I am not as well-versed in their early relationship as I am in the handful of scenes Morena Baccarin has in dp3, but I do think it is pretty canon that Wade generally struggles to express his deeper worries and feelings (without filtering it heavily through crude humor, sex, and pop culture references of course), especially after the events of dp1 and the physical and mental damage he sustains, and Vanessa is frankly no exception despite how much he cares for her. The entire first movie hinges on the fact that he doesn't really believe she could love him in his post-Francis mangled state, which is pretty contrived imo given that the film has established already how bonded they are, and she doesn't strike me as being written to be so shallow as to reject him based on a physical deformity. I mean iirc she wanted to stick around through chemo despite him being literally riddled with inoperable cancer, so she clearly is in it for the long haul (at least in dp1), messiness and all.

Now, in dp2, obviously she is shot and killed early in the film, and Wade spends much of the rest of the film wallowing in his very profound grief, trauma, and guilt over losing her due directly to his violent lifestyle. He goes to prison, he basically gives up on life and seems very resigned to dying once he has the power suppressant collar on, even excited to do so so he can be reunited with her. She is mostly sidelined as a Fuzzy Dead Wife trope basically, but the important thing here is that he spends weeks if not months in the throes of despair over losing the love of his life just as they were trying to start a family, and trying to reach across the boundaries of death to be with her.

Now, my first couple times watching dp3 I was frustrated by the trite narrative presented in the interview scene towards the beginning - specifically Wade's whole "my girl is getting tired of my shtick and I need to show her I matter". It felt contrived and disingenuous, and I just brushed it off as iffy writing, a means to an end, but the more I reflect upon it the more I think it is based in an emotional reality that is just handled with a very light touch by the film in favor of fanservice and Poolverine content (NOT that I'm complaining in the slightest - I think this movie is a masterpiece in many ways, albeit a flawed one but that's beside the point here), which for the record I am not against because I think it lends it an air of realism. This is Wade's story after all, Vanessa is a part of it but it is ultimately about him and his journey.

Basically, I think the combination of what happened to him in dp1 (the brain damage, the trauma, the awareness of the fourth wall, etc) followed by the events of dp2 (Vanessa's death, his grief and the associated guilt and trauma of being the direct cause of her death) led to an unbridgeable emotional gap between the two of them that ultimately leads to their breakup.

It's important to note that I don't think Vanessa has any recollection of her own death, given that Wade goes back and saves her before she can take the bullet, and so of course she can never fully fathom what Wade went through grieving her and their life together and their potential family, for however long he spent between her death and bringing her back with Cable's device. She can try (and she clearly does in the one scene I'll talk about next) but I fear she accepts, maybe even in that scene, that she can never succeed. He is beyond her reach by this point, and vice versa, his experiences having fundamentally changed him.

The one scene we really see from their relationship between dp2 and dp3 is the one where Cassandra mind-gropes Wade in the Void and we see Vanessa struggling to reach Wade across this aforementioned gap - she wants him to open up, she wants him to share what he's going through, she wants him to be the person she initially fell in love with (not even selfishly - to her nothing has changed really, because to her no time has passed). But not only does he not understand what she's really asking for but he responds in such a way that makes me think he has unprocessed issues that are only tangentially related to what she's saying - ie the stuff about mattering, about asking her if she even wants to be with him, etc. And he's not the Wade Wilson she met back in dp1 anymore. He watched her die and grieved her and brought her back, believing it would make everything go back to normal and they could resume their life together as if nothing had changed, but he has been fundamentally changed in a way that she can't grasp, even if he WAS good at externally processing his trauma openly without the artifice of wry jokes. She didn't "come back wrong" - instead, she came back exactly the same as before, but HE'S different now. Not wrong, per se. But changed.

It's an interesting scene because it's obviously a memory, and a crucial one at that, but you can see how Wade is misunderstanding what she's saying, viewing it through the prism of his own lack of self-worth and his own hopelessness - he takes away that she thinks he doesn't matter (even though like he says she didn't actually say that, but I don't think Cassandra invented that wholecloth - I think she pulled it out of his psyche because that's what he believes deep down, hence why his fixation on mattering even though she never said those words exactly), he takes away that she doesn't want to be with him, that she thinks he's nothing. Which would be frustrating as an audience member to witness as a pretty simple misunderstanding which could potentially be solved with one conversation, but it feels believable to me that these two people who have shared a great love would be fundamentally separated by unimaginable, cosmic trauma, and the on conversation they would need to have to rectify the misunderstanding is one that is impossible for Wade to verbalize and equally impossible for Vanessa to conceive of. It was one thing when they had shared trauma like violence and SA in dp1, but what Wade has gone through in dp1 and dp2, humor aside, is unfathomably traumatic, brain-breakingly so even, and that's not even factoring in the possible mental illnesses he now struggles with (I've seen folks suggest schizophrenia, DID, depression, etc. but I won't get into armchair diagnosing a fictional character here - suffice it to say he is canonically unwell as a result of what has happened to him, and yes it manifests as quirky fourth wall breaks and cheeky one-liners, but within the universe of the movies he is undeniably profoundly mentally ill, and that includes this humorous alter ego he created to cope with his trauma).

I think off-screen Vanessa probably really tried to reach him, maybe for years (the six year gap implies to me that they didn't break up immediately, that they tried for a while to stay together), trying to get her Wade back, but that Wade is gone. He struggled to express that to her until eventually he started to feel rejected because he couldn't express his trauma or how much he has changed, because even he can't fully conceive of the gulf that has formed between them. The truth is, he WANTS to be that Wade again, for her and for himself, but that Wade died when she died. Or maybe he had already started dying when Francis got a hold of him in dp1.

Anyway, all this is to say, I think Morena Baccarin WAS criminally underutilized in dp2 and dp3, but I think there is a strong argument to be made for the believability of their breakup regardless. I think even relationships built on enormous love can crumble due to trauma, and what Wade suffers over these movies is mind-bogglingly enormous trauma. It's especially heartbreaking that he blames himself for their relationship ending, talks like she just got tired of him, thought he didn't matter, whatever. But it is a credit to him that he never seems to feel anger towards her about it. He doesn't seem to feel entitled to her, though he longs for her and what they had and what she represented (hope, love, a future, a family), but ultimately she becomes more of a symbol of what he lost when he gained his powers, because let's be super fr right now - even if they had succeeded in having a baby, not only would they have lived in fear of her or the kid getting killed, but ultimately Wade would likely outlive both of them even if they managed to die natural deaths. The moment he gained his powers he was already destined to lose her, which is heartbreaking because she was the only reason he opted for the treatment in the first place - so he could stay with her.

I think a big part of Deadpool & Wolverine is watching Wade continue to process his own motivations (vis-a-vis Vanessa but also his other friends) and how he does eventually let go of the idea of "mattering" in favor of just saving the people he cares about (*cough* and being saved right back *cough* by Wolvie, as the final line and shot implies). And in the process he finds someone new who cares about him, who thinks he matters, who tries to sacrifice himself for him and his friends after mere days of knowing him, who comes home with him at the end of the story, who breaks his own centuries-old patterns, who has also experienced unimaginable grief and trauma, who has struggled with wanting to die and being unable to, who not only matches his crazy but matches his FREAK and also not only won't die on him but CAN'T die on him - and more importantly cannot be randomly killed by a stray bullet.

Idk if any of this makes much sense but I do think if you read between the lines and consider the potency of trauma and grief, guilt and emotional damage at play here, Vanessa and Wade's off-screen breakup is actually pretty realistic, and really heart-breaking to boot.

You can tell she still cares about him in so many ways - she shows up for his birthday party, she shows up to his welcome home party at the end, she finds excuses for physical contact multiple times, her eyes get soft when she looks at him, but there is a distance there that Morena Baccarin does an incredible job of portraying. She cares about him deeply, she has mourned the loss of their potential life together, she has let him go and accepted that the Wade she fell in love with is gone, but she wants him in her life even though she's moving on because she realizes he's gone somewhere she can't follow (literally and figuratively). And she wants him to be happy which is why I fully believe she would immediately clock the Poolverine of it all and not-so-subtly encourage them to make it official.

Anyway. Poolverine forever. Nothing against Vanessa at all - I think she delivers a nuanced and beautiful performance, I think their relationship is sweet and heart-wrenching in large part due to her acting chops, especially given how little she is given to work with - but I think their relationship was sadly doomed from almost the very start, because Wade becomes this traumatized superhuman and Vanessa would always be at risk in his orbit, but also would always on the outside of his multiverse superhero experiences. I think it's weirdly beautiful, even if I am filling in a lot of gaps and giving the writers maybe undue credit.

Anyway... thoughts? Please DM me or write in the tags, I am feral about this movie and just want to talk about it with anyone haha. If you have further insight into these characters too I'd love to hear it - I am by no means an expert in these movies or characters!

[xomakara]

Second Chance at Love

SUMMARY |  Jongho’s twin daughters really want you to be their new mom ever since you have been taking care of them after their mom passed. They’re trying to play matchmaker between you and Jongho to fall in love, but in actuality, you and Jongho already have feelings for each other.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Reader

GENRE/CONTENT/WARNINGS |  widow!Jongho, nanny!Reader, singledad!Jongho, dilf!Jongho, lots of fluff, smut, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it ya’ll!), face riding, creampie, impregnation, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW

LENGTH | 7134 words

TAGLIST | @yourlocaljonghoe (tagging cuz I know you're waiting for it lol)

NETWORKS |  @illusionnet @atzhouse @cromernet @wonderlandnet

@k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Hi, hello. Thanks @itsnotmydejavu for all the brainstorming. I really appreciate it! This was more fluffy that I anticipated lol. We really need more dad!teez fics out here~

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

"Joomi, I think we should make Daddy fall in love."

"With who, Jooeun? Y/N?"

"Yeah! Wouldn't Y/N be a great mommy? She already takes really good care of us! And she's mommy's best friend."

"Mommy would be happy if Y/N was our new mommy."

The two five-year-olds were huddled by the stairway, looking down the hall into the kitchen where you stood by the sink and Jongho cleared the table. After their mom passed away, the twins knew that their dad was struggling to raise them himself, he had no clue what he was doing. When you, their mom's best friend and their favorite person in the whole wide world, moved into the home to help out, they were thrilled.

They knew you had been close to their mom, but seeing how much you care for the three of them just proved to them even more that you are the perfect match to take over the role of their mother. You cook all their favorite meals, you read bedtime stories to them, and you even help them brush their teeth! You loved all three of them very deeply and would do anything for them. The girls admired you and adored your kind heart and the loving smiles you had for their dad and them. The girls noticed the way the two of you looked at each other when you thought no one was looking. Their dad had it bad and Joomi could tell that you did too. But you and their dad always insisted you were 'just friends' and that there was nothing more than that. So, being the bright children they were, Joomi and Jooeun put their minds together to hatch a plan.

If they made you two fall in love, you could get married, and become a family!

Their dad was walking into the kitchen. "How did their snacks go? Were the girls okay?"

You nodded. "Oh, it went wonderfully. The girls were perfectly sweet the entire time."

Jongho exhaled a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry for leaving. I had to stop by a client's office since we are having trouble meeting a deadline for a project that needs to be completed by Friday. If anything were to go wrong or anything would happen..."

You put a hand on his arm, stopping him from rambling. "Everything was fine. Don't stress yourself out, everything's under control here. You just take care of whatever work you need to do."

Jongho nods but hesitantly stops. "I'm...just afraid something will happen. The girls...they've been through enough. I feel bad for asking so much from you, I don't even pay you to take care of them or live in my home or-"

You chuckled. "Hush. No money is necessary to watch over the people I care about. Plus, this is more than a payment. You've given me a place to stay, food, and the company of two adorable girls. Now stop worrying."

The look Jongho gave you after that was too warm and sent butterflies fluttering throughout your body, but it made your cheeks heat up.

Joomi and Jooeun made small noises of "falling in love, falling in love, falling in loveeeee," over and over while they looked over at their dad and you by the stairway. They were careful not to be noticed by either of you and they were patient as they watched.

"Okay...you're right," Jongho breathed out a heavy sigh and you saw the way his shoulders visibly relaxed, his built figure leaning forward and closer to you.

You laughed. "Let's start planning a summer trip, okay? When things are not as busy."

He smiled. "That'd be lovely."

As soon as he said that, you heard the girls giggling by the stairs. "Were they listening to our conversation this whole time...?"

You covered your smile. "Probably."

Jongho scrunched up his nose, laughing to himself. "You know what they're trying to do, right?"

"I mean- they've been playing their games lately..." You let out a small laugh.

You can see Jongho shaking his head from behind you. The two of you walked up the steps, approaching the kids at the top and grabbing them. The girls screech playfully in shock, holding back a snicker at what their next plans could be. Jongho holds both of them in each arm, one girl in each, and you're unable to hold back your laughter at how precious they are. Jongho carries them both off to their bedroom, where he drops them softly on the big bed that the two girls shared. They're laying on their bellies, kicking their feet back and forth like fish, a huge grin plastered across both of their faces.

"I know your tricks, ladies. So do be a little less obvious about trying to play matchmaker." He scolded them playfully, hands on his hips and giving them a pretend serious look.

Joomi snorted, still kicking her little feet. "We've noticed you and Y/N."

"What does that mean?" He chuckled.

Jooeun flipped over, the bedsheets making a small swoosh sound underneath her as she laid down on her back. "You and Y/N have crushes!"

Your eyes widened. You felt yourself redden up. "Oh. Girls! No no no, your daddy and I are just friends. Best friends! Like, soooo best of friends!"

Joomi furrowed her little eyebrows. She glanced back and forth from you to her father. "You and Daddy love each other like mommy did, but don't kiss."

"Or...at least haven't kissed. Yet," Jooeun sang.

You let out a shaky sigh. "Where are they learning these things? Don't go saying things like that, the two of you."

Joomi nodded with a shrug. "Why not? Are you embarrassed?"

You let your gaze wander over to Jongho to look for some support on the matter. But Jongho was flushed and looking everywhere other than at you. It was obvious that this wasn't an easy conversation for either of you to have, much less in front of the twins.

Joomi noticed your actions and she smiled, snapping her head over to her father. "What? Are you embarrassed, Daddy?"

Joomi was giving him the same look she always did when she's trying to convince him to get something for her. With big puppy eyes, a wide smile, her bottom lip out with just a twitch at the end. Her eyebrows wiggle just a little, begging him silently and sweetly. She and her sister knew their father couldn't resist when they pleaded in that certain tone of voice, looking in their sweet little girl ways. They've played their games so many times, so why not try again?

"Joomi..." Jongho sighs, putting his hands on his knees, not being able to escape her large dark brown eyes. "What am I going to do with the two of you?"

The twins only let out tiny laughs, shrugging and hugging each other in the bed as Jongho stood. The girls love him very much and are grateful they have such a good father, despite their circumstances. Jongho leaves the room and you stay in the room with them, sitting on the bed, wanting to get to the bottom of where the girls' idea of a crush came from.

"Who told you about what a crush is?" you asked the girls after they sat themselves on the bed and changed into their PJ's.

"Uncle San!" Jooeun squeaks as the top half of her head peeks out of her PJ top.

You internally facepalmed, thinking about how Jongho's older cousin, San, was whispering conspiratorially with the girls after they asked him questions about life in a school filled with friends, crushes and parties.

"We thought you and Daddy liked each other," Jooeun had confessed innocently.

"Do you hate Daddy?" Joomi frowned, getting teary-eyed as her head pokes through the collar. "Do you hate us? Are you going to leave?"

You give her a hug, cupping her face with your hands and giving a sweet, reassuring smile. "No, no, no, sweetheart. Not at all, it's just complicated. Please don't say those things again, okay?"

It hurt, seeing the disappointed looks in their eyes and on their pouty lips, but you tried not to show it on your own face.

"Promise?" Jooeun had pleaded.

You took in a shaky breath. "Of course. Come now, time to get to sleep."

You helped the little ones into their beds, tucking the blankets around them and reading from a fairytale book as the light to their night-light flickered from the wall outlet. They slowly drifted off to sleep and you shut the bedroom door with a gentle click behind you. With a sigh, you approached the master suite across the hall and opened the door quietly, catching sight of Jongho flopped stomach-down on the mattress, buried with a duvet as you chuckled at the sight.

You clicked the bedroom door shut as you entered, stepping over to him. "The kids are asleep," you announced softly, moving to sit on the side of the bed and leaned over, poking his shoulder blade.

With a quiet huff, he rolled over, his face and shoulders now facing you. His fluffy hair lay flat over his eyes and a low sigh passed through his nose as his eyes shifted to meet yours, eyelids drooped.

A smirk found its way to the corners of his mouth. "Those two will be the death of me."

"You know we'll have to tell them about us eventually if they keep it up with their shenanigans," you warned him, laying yourself overtop of him.

"I was thinking of ways to approach the subject with the girls in my head just now." he revealed to you, reaching his arms around you. "I'm nervous that I don't know what they're really thinking or feeling."

Your hands came up and framed Jongho's cheeks. "Oh, Jongho...those girls are too smart. They even asked San about what crushes are.”

"San? Why'd they ask him?"

"That's not the point." you whispered, running your thumb across his soft cheek. "Do you think we should sit down with them? Explain?"

"Explain what? That their daddy and their nanny are secretly in love with one another because they can't stop sneaking kisses in secret places of the home?"

"Shut up." you said with a playful nudge at his chest.

"But you admit those kisses are nice." Jongho says as he sits up, dragging you onto his lap, the blanket sliding down his toned chest as his arms remain around you.

"Extremely," you confirmed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you feel the hands on your waist move to cup the underside of your thighs, adjusting the way you're positioned on him.

"Hey." Jongho brushed his nose with yours as a whisper against your lips.

"Hello," you replied with a giggle, already finding his mouth and leaning in with the full intent of kissing him again.

"Would you be happy with a widowed, single dad?" He continued to stroke the back of your leg with his fingers. "What it be wrong for me and the girls to be happy again?"

The tips of your thumbs draw little circles on the back of his neck. "Nothing is wrong with that, Jongho... I think Eunmi would be happy if you and the girls were finally able to move on and be happy."

"What if that happiness was with you? With us?" he asked, pressing his forehead against yours and rubbing his hands up and down your sides and you gently rub his back with your fingers.

You lean into the embrace and inhale, closing your eyes for a moment, then pulling away. "When Eunmi told me her last words to take care of you and the girls... I think maybe that was her way of telling me that it was okay for us to be happy. It's not like we're strangers. Not like we haven't been together before."

You and Jongho had known each other for years, and at one point, the both of you dated back in high school for a year or two but broke off your relationship for various reasons. You met Eunmi in college and ended up staying good friends with her throughout the rest of the years. And when you found out that Eunmi and Jongho started dating and eventually got married, you couldn't have been more pleased for the two of them.

You were never jealous that Eunmi and Jongho were together. Never jealous when they got married or when you helped Eunmi with the twins' birth. 

Never once.

Because you loved them dearly and you wanted them to be happy together.

When Eunmi fell sick and lost her fight with the sickness that plagued her body and spirit, she pleaded for Jongho to promise her to live his happiest life possible, and that meant starting a family all over again. Because she couldn't anymore. She couldn't raise their kids, or start over as husband and wife with Jongho, so the least she could ask for was for him and the girls to be happy. When you visited her in her final days in the hospital, she grabbed your hand and asked you a favor.

"If you love Jongho and want him to live a fulfilling and happy life... then please, look after him for me when I'm gone," she had begged with tears in her eyes. "You know how to take care of our girls, and if Jongho were with you and the girls are happy with you, I know he would be more at ease. With more help, with love...and if somehow the both of you were to fall in love all over again with one another...don't leave him, okay? Take care of him...take care of the three of them...love them, make them happy...my family is your family now."

That was over a little more than a year ago, and Jongho, although still hurt over his past love's untimely loss, was healing. So were Joomi and Jooeun. That was proven by the fact that Jongho was finally starting to love again, albeit slowly, after a while. The twins were right. They knew that he was happy when he was around you, just like he knew the twins were happier when you were around, just as their mother, Eunmi, knew the same thing.

And the last promise he made Eunmi on her deathbed was one that he will make sure he keeps.

Live his best, happiest life possible, even with the way that his life was now.

Even if it meant being with you, the woman he once loved before and recently was falling for again.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of your back hitting the plush comforters as Jongho shifts to pin you on the mattress below him. You look up and see the gleam in his eyes that have turned a shade darker from before. Your hands snake their way around his neck as he reaches and traps your face with his fingers and palms. A mischievous smirk danced across his features, his thumb rubbing the spot below the corner of your mouth, his index and middle finger rubbing at the shell of your ear. You shivered at his actions.

"Let's make them happy, Jongho..." you cooed, relishing in the soft, tickling touch of his fingers along your neck and shoulder. "Let's be happy, together, with them. Like Eunmi asked."

"I love you, you know that? I can't help but think that Eunmi knew what was going to happen, the whole time," he expressed with a big exhale as you pull him forward and close. "And she never once left me. Never doubted that I loved her even with my...previous feelings for you resurfacing."

"She loved you so, so much, Jongho. Don't ever think she didn't love you, or that she thought you didn't love her, despite the things that happened when we were in high school," you reminded him with a reassuring smile. "She loved you until her final breaths and beyond, and wanted nothing but a lifetime of happiness for you and your girls. You deserve that. Everyone deserves that. Including you."

"Do you love me too...?" he whispered against your lips, his thumb grazing your cheek.

"Always have, always will," you promised, smiling and finally pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

The next few days passed in a blur. The girls were constantly scheming or attempting to make you and their father become 'official' to their little eyes. You and Jongho would playfully play the fool, knowing their secret plans, and doing small things that would give them the belief that their tricks would work.

But in actuality, you and Jongho were having a good time trying to guess what would come next. One day, you woke up early and had just finished washing the dishes from breakfast. The girls scurried up behind you, wrapping their small bodies around your legs like adorable monkeys clinging to trees.

"What are you two up to, huh? Going to try and climb Y/N like a tree and claim that I stole your new favorite?" You hear Jongho joked as he leaned on the doorframe between the living room and dining room.

The twins giggled in unison at the ridiculous accusation as Jongho slipped closer, grabbing both girls from either side and tickling their sides as he lifted the twins up on his broad shoulders.

"Never! Our favorite is still you, Daddy!" the girls gasped in between fits of laughter as you watched on in amusement at their antics.

You rolled your eyes at the girls' silliness.

"Careful there. Make sure the two of you are hanging on tight," you playfully warned them as they straddled Jongho's shoulder blades.

The two girls immediately sat and hung on to Jongho for dear life, faces buried on either side of his head. You and Jongho chuckled at the adorable display of their devotion. You reached out and bopped the twins' noses in turn as they peered up, big bright grins adorning their cherubic cheeks.

The weekend is arriving soon, and with it, comes an overnight trip for the four of you.

"Are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet?" the twins cried out, looking out the passenger's-seat windows in anticipation.

"We'll be there soon," you laughed from the front seat where you were seated beside Jongho as he drove along the road to the campsite.

You and Jongho decided to take the kids camping, along with his friends and their kids to get a break from the bustling city life. His friend Mingi has a lakeside cabin and lots of land on which you can pitch a tent, start a fire, roast marshmallows, swim in the lake, and go canoeing or kayaking, just a few hundred meters away from the cabin itself. Jongho explained this to you as you looked out the window, smiling and watching the pine trees on either side of the vehicle whizz by at lightning speed.

Your thoughts drifted from the scenery out the windows to the scenery in the passenger seat beside you.

Jongho has his eyes focused on the road. His mouth was set in a small smile as he maneuvered the vehicle and focused on his driving, looking back into the rearview mirror to glance back and see his children giggling and talking amongst one another.

Then his dark brown orbs flickered over to your side briefly before his eyes landed back on the road before him. He turned and tilted his head towards you and his smile only got wider as his eyes crinkled at the sides, an adoring look settling over his handsome features.

"What's on your mind?"

"Not too much," you murmured, not realizing that you were being called out because of the pensive look you've been wearing on your face while looking out the windows. "Just thinking about stuff, you know, as a typical human is prone to doing from time to time."

"Got something you wanna share or something you want to keep to yourself?"

"Mmm...let me get back to you on that one."

Jongho let out a chuckle, shrugging and facing forward again. He kept his hand on your thigh the entire drive.

As soon as Mingi came into sight and everyone pulled up and parked in the driveway near his cabin, the twins were ecstatic. Unable to keep themselves in check as they jumped up and down and opened the door, they hopped out onto the ground and rushed towards him. Jongho's other friends' kids did the same thing and rushed forward, enveloping Mingi in a big group hug and pulling him downwards to smother his face and neck with affectionate kisses and screaming 'Uncle Mingi! Uncle Mingi! We're here!!' at the top of their lungs. A look of bewilderment crossed Mingi's features and he laughed heartily.

"Oh man, I wish I was that popular," San muttered as he watched the kids crowd the tall man, shaking his head.

"You're just jealous that Haru likes Mingi more than you," Wooyoung said teasingly, punching San's shoulder playfully.

"But I'm his dad!" San said with wide-eyes.

"And Mingi is his favorite uncle." Hongjoong pitched in.

"I've been replaced." San faked a dramatic swoon.

"Yunhee, make sure you get money from Uncle Mingi!" Yunho yelled at his daughter who only responded with a loud 'Got it!' from Mingi's front porch before turning around and giving her father a thumbs up.

You watched as the kids greeted Mingi on his porch and then he turned his attention to the adults and waved enthusiastically, pointing at the cabin door.

"Lunch is inside already and is ready whenever you guys want! Help yourself! We got games set up in the back if anyone wants to get their butts kicked in basketball or kickball. We also have kayaks in the back we can take out onto the lake. We've also got plenty of seating on the deck and some patio furniture. Make yourselves at home!" He announced, his voice booming out with laughter.

The adults nodded at him, not missing the mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he continued to yell at the kids. "KIDS. There's a small playground behind the cabin with a swing set, sand pit, slide, etc. and the water's right behind that. BUT-"

With that, the kids perked up and looked at him, eye-wide, eagerly hanging on every word that would leave his mouth.

"But~ If you don't behave well, Uncle Joong and Uncle Hwa are going to turn into super spies and capture each and everyone one of you!" Mingi announced in his serious adult's voice as he eyed the kids before continuing with, "Don't even try us! You can run, but you can't hide. Uncle Woo and Uncle Yeo have superhuman hearing and can detect trouble-makers from a hundred feet away. They'll be on you before you even realize it! Uncle Yunho and Uncle San have lightning reflexes! One little slip up and they'll snag you faster than your father can!"

The kids gasp and run past them in a hurry towards the playground that lay behind the cabin. The adults looked amused after their gleeful retreat, and it's not long before the noise of playful squeals and shrieks fill the air.

You and the rest of the adult pack burst into a fit of laughter at the fact that Mingi just riled the kids up into a frenzy. The others looked back and watched their offspring tear into the backyard. You watched a fond look cross Jongho's face, the smile reaching his eyes as he watched the scene in the back unfold.

"Jongho," Mingi said, interrupting Jongho and shaking him from his thoughts. "Are you and Y/N okay to share the bedroom in the back of the cabin? All the kids wanted to have a sleepover in the living room, and all the other bedrooms were claimed, save for one. I mean, I could sleep on the couch and one of you can take my bedroom..."

"It's okay, Mingi." Jongho smiled, pulling you to stand beside him and wrapping an arm around your waist, looking at you for approval.

"Ohhhhhhh~" the rest of the guys exclaimed, slapping him on the back, playfully. They were happy that Jongho was moving on.

"Wait," Wooyoung cried out, confused, "Wasn't there another room open?"

Mingi wiggled his brows. "Totally open."

“So why…” Wooyoung scrunched his face in confusion. Then his eyes widened in understanding when it clicked in his head. "Oh. Oh, damn!"

"Did you plan this or something, Mingi?" you laughed.

He holds his hands up. "Nah, the kids suggested sharing the sleeping arrangements. I would've switched our sleeping places around, but Joomi and Jooeun gave me puppy-dog-eyes and asked me to go along with their plan. Don't think any of the adults or kids here could resist a face like that."

"The twins and their shenanigans. Their mom was such a schemer so the apples didn't fall far from the tree," you said affectionately, remembering the woman you called your best friend.

"They take after Eunmi but their hearts are in the right place." Seonghwa laughed. "They know that you two like each other and have been wanting you two together for a long time. Guess today, we're accomplices to their 'Matchmaker-Twins'. Right, Captain?"

"Yes, we are," Hongjoong piped up.

You giggled at the remark, realizing that the others were in cahoots with the twins' scheme. You rolled your eyes, not surprised that all the kids and adults are in on the plans the two made for the day, the rest of the group joining in, egging the girls on, and enabling the twins to go along with their plots and plans.

After helping the twins and the other kids settle into their 'camping spots', and getting them properly settled in their temporary sleeping arrangements in the living room and putting them down for a nap, you and Jongho retired to the back room to relax in peace and quiet until the kids wake up again.

The two of you climbed into the bed and under the sheets, settling down on top of the covers. You and Jongho simultaneously sighing in relaxation and content. Jongho rolled over onto his left side and pulled your body, snug to his and against his chest, hooking his chin on your shoulder.

"Want to get a quick nap in?" you ask.

"I know something that will put us right to sleep," Jongho whispered, pressing a gentle kiss against your neck, right below your ear, causing you to shiver at the contact.

"Now?" You teased, a smirk playing across your features.

"Why do you think Mingi gave us the very private room in the cabin? I guarantee he put two-and-two together, plus heard my little munchkins' schemes, so..." Jongho retorted, continuing his little trail of pecks along the expanse of skin on your neck. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation. His mouth was trailing hot and open kisses along your exposed flesh, his tongue flicking at the curve of your shoulder. The trail continued downward until he was stopped by the cloth covering your skin. Jongho looked up at you. "What do you say, baby? Wanna?"

In response, you reach down to pull up the shirt you were wearing up and over your head. Dropping it to the floor next to the bed. "We need to hurry, though. Mingi said the kids are probably going to wake up in the next hour, maybe, to finish up their outdoor activities."

"An hour is more than enough time," Jongho murmured against your jawline, pulling you towards him and capturing your lips in a hungry, passionate kiss as you grind against his groin. "More than enough..."

The atmosphere grew heated rather fast and in no time at all, the two of you were bare of your clothes, warm skin touching warm skin, his lips chasing yours and yours chasing his, trying to feel him as close as possible. 

"Get your pretty ass up here. Ride my face." Jongho demanded.

"You're kidding," You choked out in disbelief, he shook his head at your words, his hands traveling down your curves.

"Nah, get up here. Sit on daddy's face." His words were a breathy moan against the crook of your neck and you felt yourself blush from head to toe.

"Jongho," you whined.

Jongho moaned desperately and pinned you to the bed, lifting you by the back of your thighs easily and throwing your legs over his shoulders as he laid back on the bed, his dark eyes burning into yours, "Please?"

"Are you trying to kill me?" You asked, giggling as he stared at you.

"Just turn around," Jongho chuckled, and the next second you gasped as his hands grasped you tightly and pulled you around to where his face was inches from your soaked core. "Hands on the headboard and keep still."

His firm demand sent heat shooting throughout your stomach and down into your aching pussy, and you quickly scrambled to grab onto the headboard. You almost jumped out of your skin as his tongue took a long, slow lick up the length of your slit, your grip on the wood tightening as he slowly began circling his tongue over your clit.

The wet heat that pressed against your sensitive bundle of nerves was almost overwhelming and you ground your teeth as Jongho began pushing his tongue against you rhythmically, licking and sucking at you as he tried to fuck you with his tongue. His ministrations were methodical and measured, never picking up the pace too much, but applying an immense amount of pressure every time he moved against you.

Your head was swimming at this point, the feeling of his soft mouth pressing against your drenched pussy was sending shockwaves of pleasure all throughout your body, causing your nipples to harden and your mind to reel. You couldn't keep yourself from whimpering slightly at the way his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, and your hips jerked downwards involuntarily in an attempt to feel his tongue deep within you.

A guttural groan erupted from within his throat, and it reverberated against you as his grip on your thighs became impossibly tighter. He pinned you against his mouth so that you couldn't squirm against him again, keeping you on his tongue so that it could continue massaging over every sensitive bit of your pussy.

And before you even realized what you were doing, you had clenched your thighs around his head, not allowing his head to budge from underneath your hips. He moaned against your flesh and picked up the speed of his movements, sloppily lapping at you and dipping his tongue deep inside, stretching your clenching walls, working your entire core in a way that was sending you barreling into a quick and intense orgasm. Your legs bucked out on either side of him as you moaned loudly, pressing his tongue deep inside of you.

"Gosh, Jongho! F-Fuck!" You moaned, pushing your hips down and riding his face vigorously until your entire core pulsed, sending warm shockwaves rippling through your whole body.

When you finally finished clenching your thighs around his head, Jongho managed to lift his head up just enough to begin sucking hard on your oversensitive clit. "Don't fucking move," He murmured against you.

As your head slowly spun, he held himself there, moaning against your wet flesh. Jongho would not allow you to recover, and his tongue never stopped its movements, continuing to lick at your walls as if he could drink every bit of you in.

"Taste so good…" He breathed, kissing your inner thigh gently.

"Oh please..." you whispered and gasped as the pressure of his mouth against you suddenly increased, Jongho moaning obscenely beneath you.

"You make the prettiest noises..." Jongho said as you felt his hot breath fan against your overly sensitive pussy, his mouth moving against you rapidly, almost as though it couldn't kiss you deeply enough. "Couldn't help but be noisy could ya? Little tease..."

"Baby, I can't cum again..." Your whole body was beginning to spasm now as the warmth between your legs threatened to burst again, his lips pressing hard against your clit and sucking deep and slow. Your vision was going white as the pressure built in you. You could feel yourself climbing toward yet another earth shattering release as you leaned against the headboard for support, knuckles turning white from your iron-like grasp.

But Jongho never let up, relentlessly dragging his mouth over your swollen sex and moaning hotly as he pleasured you, eyes closing in rapture as he lost himself in the taste of you. "Can you cum again? Can you cum on my tongue, beautiful?"

Your grip on the headboard tightened impossibly and before you knew it, you were cumming, your body jerking in time with your pulsing pussy, soaking him as you released everything within you.

Once your high fizzled out, and your heartbeat returned to a normal rate, you were feeling your body growing tired. Your fingers and arms and legs were sore. "Jongho..I need a break..." you sighed, leaning down to try and push his head away, your words sounding more desperate than you'd meant them. "I can't cum again like this, it's too much.."

"Then do you want me to fuck your pretty pussy?" Jongho asked, looking up at you through dark eyelashes as he circled his tongue against you. "I could kiss this pretty pussy all day long, but I don't think you can wait anymore."

You bit your lip hard at the words and glanced behind you to see Jongho pumping his thick member with his hand, still holding you in place with his other arm. "Please..." you murmured.

With a pleased groan, he helped turn you back around, moving both of you until he was positioned on top, spreading you wide apart and nudging his tip against your swollen entrance.

"Stop teasing me," you whined, the sight of his twitching length inches from where you needed it made you a bit crazy. Jongho chuckled lightly and captured your lips as he slowly pushed himself in.

You could not stop the moan that escaped your lips the second Jongho was balls-deep inside your pussy, your arms flying around his neck, clinging on tightly. He fit inside you so well, filling you up in every conceivable way, the tip of his cock hitting every hidden part of you.

His lips travelled along your neck and collar, sucking and kissing the soft flesh. Your mouth was still agape, hanging low with no sound, only letting out little gasps as his tip brushed past the deepest part of you, sending warmth radiating throughout every nerve-ending. 

"My beautiful baby.." Jongho hummed, pulling out gently before pounding into you, one strong arm wrapping around your hips and lifting them so he could pound against a different spot deep within you.

Suddenly it seemed to you as if Jongho's tip were brushing over your clit each time it pulled back before sliding deep into your entrance.

You gripped him tighter as his hips moved back and forth. Before you knew it, Jongho's name tumbled out of your lips as he hit a soft spot of yours. 

"Jonghooo..." you moaned, losing your mind.

"Gonna fill your pussy up with my cum...make you take it..." Jongho growled, snapping his hips up again with more force. 

"Wanna give you my kids. Would you like that? Add another to our family?" He groaned against your neck, squeezing your ass, then swatting it.

He pushed himself in as far as he could, biting your earlobe as his member twitched inside of you, "Tell me, baby. Do you like being a mommy to me and my twins, and being my pretty wife? Don't want anyone else...only my baby. I love you so much. You and my girls..."

"I love you and the girls too, Jongho. So, so much." You respond, feeling the tell-tale signs of the pleasure building deep within.

"Do you want to cum, my love? Gonna take every drop of daddy's cum inside?" he moaned into your ear. His husky voice was so hot, and the feeling of him, pressed into you, so unbelievably warm and powerful, caused your body to tense, and then go limp under his strong hands. "Want to give you a baby too, sweetheart. I'm ready for another set of twins, and another set after that, if I'm blessed with it."

And when Jongho slid his tip between your sensitive folds, hitting every raw spot he could as your body shook, that was it. The walls of your pussy contracted against him, a gush of his cum emptied inside of you, making its way to your awaiting womb, hoping for it to take seed and create more lives. You moaned and threw your head back, thrusting your hips upwards to meet his one final time.

Jongho grunted into your shoulder as he fucked his load into you, cumming as deep inside you as he could possibly go and taking deep breaths.

You wrap your legs around his waist, locking him against you and pushing his cock to the hilt inside your dripping walls, not willing to let a single drop escape. His pulsing cock makes your core pulse. The two of you stay as still as possible as you catch your breath, Jongho breathing hot air down your chest.

"Don't you dare pull out yet, Choi Jongho," you ordered firmly. You needed him close, wanted him near you. Jongho smiled up at you.

"Is that what you want?"

"Mmmmhhmmm..." you moan, and wiggle your hips to make his cock stir your insides. Jongho moaned back into the mattress and grabbed your waist tightly. You squeal in delight at his sudden movement, then press your lips firmly against his, claiming him as your own.

"Y/N...would you marry me?" Jongho asked softly a few minutes later, as he propped up on his left elbow and looked deeply into your eyes, stroking your hair gently. "Officially be the girls' mother and my wife? I was hoping..." 

He reached down beneath the pillows, and pulled something from underneath it. He looked shy as he revealed a black velvet box in the palm of his hand, holding it out towards you. "Would you, please?"

"Yes, Jongho." You say in response, watching him open the small, velvet box. Jongho exhales and a smile appears on his handsome features as he pulls the ring out of its housing, sliding the metal band on your ring finger of your left hand. "Absolutely yes."

It fit perfectly.

He crushed his lips to yours and you sighed into the passionate kiss, running your hands through his hair as his tongue pressed inside. It felt good, almost too good, but he pulled away and laid back on the bed. 

After a while of cuddling, kissing, and playing with his hair, Jongho buried his head in the crook of you neck. "I think we should clean the sheets, shower and just cuddle..." He said quietly. "I have a feeling that the girls will barge in once they're awake and we don't need them seeing this mess or smelling the room."

You hum in agreement. You and Jongho kiss softly, barely audible 'I love you's' being whispered between the two of you, your fingers running through his silky strands. You love this. You're so in love and you can't imagine not being with Jongho, and you truly love and adore his two girls.

After getting the room and the two of you cleaned, and the sheets changed and clothes pulled back on, the two of you laid comfortably in  bed in each other's arms.

Jongho turned so that he was hovering over you, one hand propping him up, the other lightly caressing your cheek and thumb tracing your bottom lip. He lowered his head and brushed his nose against yours, lightly pressing his lips against yours. He pulled away to see your cheeks a rosy tint of pink. He leaned his forehead on yours and chuckled. He went back in to continue kissing you.

The door flew open and the bed dipped as two weights jumped onto the end of the bed. Jongho rolled over, the twins landing in the bed, bouncing with their jump, laughing loudly. Joomi moved to sit on your lap, and Jooeun did the same with her dad.

"How was your nap?" You asked the girls, hearing the loud screams of the other children and their parents somewhere in the cabin.

"Good but we're hungry and Uncle Joong told us to wake you up for lunch, so we did! But we didn't run here. We walked." Joomi said.

"Yes," Jooeun agrees.

"Are you sure you walked or ran? I heard some feet scampering down the hall when I woke up," you smirked and booped their noses. They giggled.

"Y/N, are you and Daddy a couple now?" Joomi whispered in your ear. You heard Jooeun asking her dad the same thing.

You and Jongho both chanced a glance at the other before saying at the same time, "Are we?"

Jongho laughed before leaning in and giving you a small kiss on the lips. He also glanced at the girls who were jumping and cheering in your arms. "Why don’t we get you girls and Mommy something to eat?"

"I could hear them telling the other adults that their little plan worked." You whispered. The twins were talking your ears off, excited that you were going to be their new mother now that you and their daddy had finally gotten together.

"I love you." Jongho kissed you as the four of you walked together out to where the other adults were, to have their lunch.

"I love you, too." You kissed him back before kissing the top of the twins' heads. "And I love my new little girls so much."

The twins squealed and screamed louder, "Mommy, yay!" They both launched at you, hugging the life out of you.

"C'mon Mommy, lunch now!" Jooeun pulled you forward towards the table that had been set up for the lunch buffet style. Joomi held out her hands, palm open, to her dad. Jongho chuckled before interlacing his fingers with hers. The four of you walked towards the long table where the rest of your friends and the kids had already made their way to and piled their plates with their food, before sitting together and enjoying their food.

"Told you the plan would work!" The twins exclaimed, the adults laughing.

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

[rationalnerd62]

Seeing some of the tags I got on the CR timeline post, I think I loved C3 for the exact same reasons some folks disliked it or struggled with it.

I liked the overarching arc. Don't get me wrong, mini-arcs like with VM and M9 are perfectly fine, but there's something narratively satisfying to me about BH following this consistent thread all along the campaign. This group started with a few questions (Who attacked Keyleth? Why? What is the meaning of those dreams? Where are Fearne's parents?) and uncovered a whole conspiracy that then revealed itself to the entire world. It reminds me of reading those Fantasy series where the characters hear about the upcoming battle in book 1 and finally get to it in book 14. I can't wait to rewatch and see the foreshadowing and hints that brought this group to this point.

I liked the constant discussions about the Gods. Listen, as a gay person raised in a Catholic family, boy I've had my dealings and issues with religion. But I find it nice to be able to put our own world aside and watch this fantasy world ask questions that would be very controversial in ours. What we know of the Gods of Exandria has fundamentally changed from the first episode of C3 to the last. We went through both ExU Calamity and Downfall during that time. Those Gods have changed from being so removed and above mortals, mystical entities incomprehensible to anyone who dared trying, to beings with a past before Exandria, a family they're willing to protect at all costs no matter how hurtful their siblings are to the mortals, aliens with flaws and faults and failings, full of nuances and grayness in a world that put half of them in a box of "Good" and the other half in a box of "Evil". And as those Gods have been humanised in front of our eyes, it brought the question of whether their power over mortals is still justified and relevant. And now Exandria is about to change, and I find it exciting. IMO, it gives even more of a reason to keep exploring Exandria in the future of Critical Role than if the status quo was maintained. It's hard to do something new in a world that doesn't evolve with the story.

And while I understand people would have loved more time with Bell's Hells (I would have loved that too!), I also kinda loved how rushed and short in time they've been feeling since they've heard of the solstice. They've had a ticking clock ringing in their ears for a while now. People make different decisions when they don't think they have the time to get some sleep on it. Would have Ashton tried to absorb the shard if the group didn't have to leave for Ruidus the exact next day? Would have Orym taken a sword that maybe shouldn't be his if they didn't have to leave for Aeor the next day? Would have Imogen absorbed Predathos if watching Downfall hadn't made them realise that the Gods will break the Divine Gate to keep the secret of Predathos hidden?

IMO, we still got plenty of very interesting character moments despite the limited amount of time those characters spent together. They've been through some shit together, and the friendships they made through the shared trauma will stick with them for years. Because yes, they are friends (except for Braius, that one is on a tightrope lol). But they've proven over and over again what they're willing to do for their tight crew of broken people.

Boy I am so very fond of them. Saying goodbye will be hard 🥹.

[steveseddie]

laced

steddie | rating: e | wc: 8,6k | cw: none | tags: steve pov, getting together via lingerie, eddie in panties, blow jobs, anal fingering, thigh fucking, first kiss, yes in that order

for week 3 of @steddiesmuttyseptember using the prompt “lingerie” 

click here to read on ao3

Steve watches as Eddie struggles to squeeze ketchup on his food. He’s squeezing the bottle with both hands, cursing under his breath when nothing comes out despite the cap being open. 

“Fucking stupid useless piece of shit bottle!” 

Steve snorts from across the Munson’s kitchen table. “Y’know, Eds? Maybe it’s not the bottle. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of saying you shouldn’t put ketchup on your eggs.” 

Eddie narrows his eyes at him over the bottle. “Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, eh Steve?”

He huffs. “I tried it, remember? You force-fed me eggs with ketchup two weeks ago,” Steve says in a bitchy tone and Eddie lets out a small tee-hee giggle at the reminder. “And it was fucking gross.”

With a shrug, Eddie says, “Maybe your palate isn’t sophisticated enough to appreciate such delicacies.”

“Not sophisticated-” Steve cuts himself off with a snort. “Dude, I ate caviar for the first time when I was six,” he snarks, kicking Eddie’s foot under the table. 

The snobby comment makes Eddie let out a loud and full-bellied laugh but Steve doesn’t get a chance to bask in the warm feeling that spreads through him whenever he makes Eddie laugh like that because, in that moment, ketchup squirts from the bottle that Eddie’s hands are still wrapped around and it lands directly on Steve’s chest, leaving a big red sauce stain on his pristine yellow polo. 

“Goddammit,” Steve curses, grabbing a handful of napkins and rubbing at the stain, but it’s pointless. 

He looks up and finds Eddie staring at him like a deer caught in headlights— wide-eyed and mouth open, the offending bottle still in his hands. 

“Um,” he clears his throat, smiling innocently, “whoops?” 

Steve groans, balls up the napkins and throws them at Eddie’s face.

It hits him square on the forehead, leaving a tiny red sauce stain in the space between his eyebrows. “Hey! It wasn’t my fault!” Eddie protests. Steve stares pointedly at the bottle he’s holding. “Okay, I didn’t mean to!”

“That’s not gonna make this stain disappear, Eds,” Steve says, “or change the fact that I have to be at work in twenty minutes!”

“Hey, maybe no one will notice?” Steve raises an eyebrow at him—really? Eddie visibly winces. “Yeah, okay, you can borrow something from me and I’ll throw that in the washer later.”

Steve throws his head back with a groan, pushing himself up from the table. “Great.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my clothes?” Eddie asks, affronted, but Steve has already started walking towards his room so his question goes unanswered.

Truth is there’s nothing wrong with Eddie’s clothes. Steve loves them. He loves how Eddie looks in them and he loves borrowing them— he loves seeing himself in Eddie’s clothes almost as much as he loves watching Eddie wear his. He just doesn’t love wearing them for work, his trademark skulls and devils always make the old ladies that visit Family Video clutch their pearls and give him nasty looks when he greets them.

But Steve can’t go a whole shift with a giant ketchup stain on his chest, so with a sigh, he heads to Eddie’s dresser where he knows he keeps his shirts and sets off to find the least offensive one for him to borrow. 

He’s rummaging through band tees and Hellfire shirts when his fingers brush against something soft and lacey.

“What the hell?” Steve mutters, his fist closing around the piece of clothing and pulling it out from the drawer to inspect it. He’s never seen Eddie wear anything this soft or delicate, he’s all cotton and denim and leather—

And red lace panties apparently.

Steve’s eyes nearly bulge out from his head when he stares down at his hand and the piece of lingerie he just pulled from Eddie’s dresser. 

Heat starts to build up in his cheeks the longer he holds them because here’s the thing: Steve knows Eddie is gay and he’s made it clear that he’s never been with a girl so these—the panties Steve is holding—can’t belong to anyone but him. 

Which, holy shit. 

Before he can stop himself, his brain conjures up the image of Eddie wearing these and Steve goes dizzy with how fast the blood that crept up to his cheeks rushes south, something hot and heavy settling on his lower stomach. 

Then the bedroom door swings open abruptly and Steve jumps, nearly dropping the panties in surprise.

Eddie saunters in. “Did His Majesty find a shirt worthy of his- oh.” 

He cuts himself off when he recognizes what Steve is holding in his hand, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly before he schools his features into something neutral. 

Meanwhile, Steve looks like he just got caught red-handed. Which, he literally just did. “I wasn’t, um- I was just looking for a shirt that won’t make Mrs. Donovan accuse me of being a satanist again.”

“What would she think if she knew you’re wearing that?” Eddie jokes and it’s only because Steve knows him so well that he notices the way his voice wavers slightly and his laugh comes out a little shaky. 

“I wouldn’t-” He holds his hands up, the panties still clutched between his fingers. He hands them over to Eddie like they’re burning him. “Uh, here.” 

Eddie takes them, raising an eyebrow at Steve’s jittery behavior. “Dude, relax, don’t act like you haven’t seen your fair share of panties, King Steve.”

And he has just not—

“Not in my male friend’s drawers.” 

Eddie visibly flinches, his mouth twisting like he tasted something sour. “Right,” he says, his voice clipped. 

Well, shit. 

Steve instantly tries to backtrack. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean- it’s just weird- fuck, not weird, that’s not- guys can own panties too- fuck conformity and all that shit, right? I mean, if they’re yours, um, are they? Yours?” 

Eddie narrows his eyes at him warily. “If I say yes, you promise not to be weird about it?” 

“Of course, man!” Steve says, his voice an octave higher than usual. Damn it.

“Very convincing, Steve,” Eddie says with a snort but he must believe him at least a little because he tugs some of his hair in front of his face and quietly admits, “Uh, yeah, they’re- They’re mine.”

He’s being uncharacteristically shy about this, unlike the time Steve asked about the handkerchief that hangs from his jeans or the handcuffs that he keeps on his headboard, then again they were high when that happened and Steve wasn’t being so painfully awkward. 

And okay, it’s not because he’s uncomfortable or anything- or well, not in the way Eddie thinks. More in the ‘his jeans feel suddenly tighter and he can’t wait until he can go home and jerk off’ way but he can’t tell Eddie that. 

So he tries to prove to Eddie he’s not weirded out some other way. 

“Well, they’re- they’re nice,” he says, hoping that his smile doesn’t look too strained. “I like the color.”

Eddie leers at him. “Oh-ho-ho, is Steve Harrington a red panties kind of guy?” 

And he’s not, not really. He doesn’t have a preference but given how the thought of Eddie in red panties is clearly doing it for him, maybe he is. Or maybe it’s just because it’s Eddie. 

He swallows a few times, his throat suddenly feeling dry. “Nah, not like you are,” he says, his voice coming out a little shaky around the joke, but at least it makes Eddie laugh and it diffuses the tension between them a little bit. 

“Fair enough.”

“So, um, where did you get them?”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Why? Looking for ideas for my birthday present?” He asks teasingly. Now that he knows Steve isn’t really weirded out, he seems intent on making him squirm as much as he can. “Women’s department at a shop in Indy. Told the woman at the register they were for my girlfriend,” he snorts, “you should’ve seen her, Stevie, she was scandalized.”

Steve chuckles at the thought of Eddie walking to the register and slapping the panties in front of some middle-aged woman, earning him the stink eye.

“Don’t know if she actually believed I have a girlfriend,” Eddie goes on, “she probably did. I think she would’ve sent me on my merry way if she knew they were for me. Maybe next time I’ll tell her they are just to ruffle her feathers.”

“Or to get banned from the store,” Steve replies with a chuckle. Then he asks, “Did you only go that one time?” 

Eddie nods. “Haven’t been to Indy in a while and I guess I could find some here but- it’s different. In the city no one knows who I am and no one cares, but here? They all know who the Freak is and that he doesn’t have a girlfriend so if they saw me buying panties? It’ll surely get the gossip mill going,” he says, tone slightly bitter. “That’s also why I don’t wear them often, y’know? First of all, they’re a bitch to wash, Stevie, I’m telling you, but also I try to be careful, it only takes one asshole jock deciding to pant me for everyone in Hawkins to find out Eddie Munson likes to wear women’s underwear.”

Steve nods in understanding. Meanwhile, his lizard brain wonders if Eddie’s ever worn them while hanging out with him. He forces his mind out of the gutter so he can reassure Eddie. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he says, “I won’t say anything.”

Eddie gives him a soft amused look. “I know that, sweetheart.” 

Steve, who nearly had his blush under control by now, can feel his cheeks pinking up again at the pet name. “Good, okay, um. Anyway, I should probably change and head out if I want to get to work on time.”

He blindly reaches into Eddie’s dresser, grabbing the first shirt he finds.  “Yup, that’ll do,” he says without even looking at it. “I’m just gonna- yeah.”

He starts walking backward towards the bathroom. Eddie waves goodbye at him, the panties still clutched in his fingers. Steve’s eyes zero in on them and stay there for a little too long, resulting in him being so unaware of his surroundings that he bumps against the wall on his way out of the room. 

Eddie watches all of this with curious eyes and Steve worries that he’ll see right through Steve’s blush and his nervous behavior. He holds Eddie’s borrowed shirt in front of his jeans as he exits the room just in case. 

In the bathroom, he changes into said shirt. The whole time, he can’t stop thinking about the damn panties, his face burning. 

He splashes water on it, trying to cool down. 

“Get it together, Harrington,” he tells his flushed reflection in the mirror. His eyes dart down and he can’t help but groan at the shirt he blindly grabbed from Eddie’s dresser. 

Not a skull and not a devil, but a metalhead from some band, raising both of his middle fingers and sticking his tongue out the way Eddie does when he throws up those damn devil horns of his. 

“Fucking great.”

He hopes fucking Mrs. Donovan doesn’t come into Family Video looking for a movie to rent today.

***

“Earth to Steve?” Robin waves her hands in front of Steve’s face. “Hello?”

When that doesn’t snap Steve out of his thoughts, Robin flicks his forehead. “Ow! What the hell, dude?” He slaps her hand away, straightening up from where he was leaning on the counter, pretending to sort out tapes while actually staring into space, thoughts of Eddie swirling around in his head. 

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for like ten minutes!”

“Oh,” he hangs a hand from his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, Robs.” 

She sighs then narrows her eyes at him. “Are you okay? You’re distracted today.” 

“I’m not!” 

“No? You just put Halloween in the romance pile, dingus,” she says, picking up the horror tape from said romance pile. 

“Uh, well, some might consider Mike Myers being obsessed with this Laurie chic romantic?” Steve jokes. 

Robin snorts but keeps staring at him with curious eyes. It reminds Steve of Eddie this morning and that reminds him of the panties which immediately has a blush creeping up on his face. Robin’s eyes narrow further until she’s basically squinting. It’s a good thing they can’t actually read each other’s thoughts the way they always joke about. That doesn’t mean Robin isn’t trying to do it with how hard she’s staring at him. 

“I’m fine, Robs,” Steve says, squirming under her stare. 

But just because she can’t read his mind doesn’t mean she can’t tell he’s lying. “Well, that’s convincing,” she snorts, “seriously, what’s happening in that big hairy head of yours?” 

Well, Robin, turns out that our friend Eddie, who I have a raging gay crush on, happens to own a pair of red lace panties and now I can’t stop thinking about him wearing them! 

Steve scrunches up his nose. “You don’t wanna know, Robs.” 

His words don’t stop her from pushing. “Does it have anything to do with that awful thing you’re wearing? Seriously, Steve, the woman that was just here crossed herself and walked out as soon as she saw you.” 

Steve looks down at the shirt, lips pursed. “I had to borrow this from Eddie-”

“Obviously.” 

“-because he fucking squirted me with ketchup this morning.” 

Robin scrunches up her nose. “Gross, dude, don’t say it like that, ew!” 

Steve sniggers, bonking her head with one of the tapes. He really should go back to sorting them out and actually doing his job. “It’s not my fault he doesn’t own anything remotely normal.” 

Robin snorts. “Yeah, love the guy but his taste in clothes is bad with a capital B.”

At least his taste in panties is good, Steve thinks, then bites his tongue so hard he visibly winces. 

Robin notices but luckily misinterprets it as Steve being offended on Eddie’s behalf. “You know I’m right! Just because you have a crush on him and drool over his chains and ripped jeans and cropped shirts on a daily basis doesn’t mean I’m not!”

“Hey!” Steve protests weakly. “I don’t drool.”

“Hm, yes you do and it’s embarrassing,” she says, ignoring Steve’s string of offended noises, “Speaking of Eddie! When are you going to tell him?” 

“Tell him what?” 

“That you want to boink him.” 

“Boink?” Steve echoes, pulling a face. “No one fucking calls it that!” 

Robin shrugs. “Whatever, so when?”

“I was thinking- never,” he says and Robin dramatically collapses on the counter, a few tapes toppling to the floor when she knocks them over with her bony elbows. He knows what comes next— they’ve been having this discussion since Steve confessed that he liked boys and that he liked Eddie a few weeks ago. She’ll insist that Steve should tell him, Steve will say no, she’ll ask why and it will spiral into her trying to convince Steve of all the reasons why he should. He doesn’t want to get into that right now, not after this morning. There’s only so much he can take so he doesn’t give her the chance to kickstart the argument, throwing her own question back at her, “When are you gonna tell Vickie?” 

She jerks her head upright to glare at him. Steve just shrugs. 

“Speaking of Vickie,” she says and Steve snorts at the way she blatantly ignores his question. “Her birthday is coming up and I want to get her something nice so I need you to take me to Indy this weekend.”

“And why would I do that?” Steve asks in a bitchy tone that they both know is only for show. 

“Because you’re my best friend and my platonic soulmate and we’re bonded for life and you love me,” she says, batting her eyelashes at him, her hands held together in front of her in a pleading gesture. 

Steve snorts. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I’ll take you.”

She throws her arms up in celebration, a few more tapes toppling to the floor. Her nose scrunches up and she disappears behind the counter to pick them up. 

When she pops back up, she waggles her eyebrows at Steve. “Maybe you can find something for Eddie too,” she says teasingly. 

Eddie’s words from earlier, when Steve asked where he got the lingerie, ring in Steve’s ears— Why? Looking for ideas for my birthday present?

It makes the back of his neck feel like it’s one fire, and before Robin can ask what that’s about, he leans down to pick the tapes that fell on his side of the counter. “Hm, yeah, uh- maybe.” 

Luckily Robin districts herself listing some of the things that Vickie might like and she doesn’t notice how strangled Steve’s voice comes out at the thought of getting Eddie some new panties. 

Not that Steve will do it. He won’t obviously. 

Who fucking does that? 

***

Turns out Steve fucking does that. 

He slips away while Robin is roaming around a bookstore in Indy— looking for some fantasy novel that she heard Vickie talk about. She barely listens to him when he says he’s going to find the bathroom, waving him off as she rattles whatever detail she can remember about the book to the frazzled teen working at the bookstore with the hope that she’ll know exactly what book Robin is talking about. 

Steve does go looking for the bathroom but on his way back he walks past a window displaying lingerie. He pauses in front of it and his mouth goes dry as he pictures Eddie wearing the different sets of panties on display.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s walking into the store and picking the ones that caught his attention the most— a pair of black lace panties with a cute little pink bow. 

The lady at the register raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him when he hands those over but luckily she doesn’t say anything. Most likely she thinks Steve is getting something for his girlfriend, but even if there’s no way for her to know that he’s actually buying them for his metalhead friend who Steve has a raging crush on, he still feels a blush creeping up his neck when she asks if he wants her to put it in a gift bag.

Steve says yes only to realize he will have to run to the car to drop it off before meeting up with Robin again, lest she sees it and starts questioning Steve about it, but at least when he gives it to Eddie it will look pretty. 

Much like Eddie will in those panties. 

The thought makes his blush spread to his ears and with a mumbled “thank you” he grabs the bag and runs out of there. 

***

It’s not until a week later that Steve finally decides to give Eddie his gift. Mostly because he knows he can’t keep the bag hidden under his bed forever, it’s only a matter of time before Robin, one of the kids, or Eddie himself finds it and that’s something he doesn’t want to have to explain.

Not that he knows how he’ll explain to Eddie that he got him a pair of panties but whatever.

He’s still trying to figure that one out when he parks the Beemer in front of Eddie’s trailer. Wayne’s truck isn’t there, having already left for work, which Steve was counting on. There’s no way he’s doing this in front of Eddie’s uncle, he would die of embarrassment before Eddie even sees the gift. But even knowing that Wayne isn’t there does little to appease Steve’s nerves and he needs to take a few deep breaths before he exits the car, pink gift bag in hand. 

“It’s just a gift,” Steve mutters to himself as he walks up the steps. “A friendly gift, you got Eddie something he likes, he’s not going to read into it.”

With a shaky hand, he knocks on the door.

“He doesn’t know you haven’t stopped thinking about the panties for a whole fucking week,” he goes on, running his free hand through his hair as he hears footsteps approaching through the thin walls of the trailer.  “Or that you jerked off to the thought of him wearing them or that you wish you could see him in the ones you got for him!” He shakes his head with a nervous chuckle. “There’s no fucking need to make this weird, okay? Okay.”

The door swings open and Steve’s jaw snaps shut as Eddie’s head pops into view. “Stevie!” He says, his face breaking into a beaming smile that makes Steve’s heart stutter. “Hey!” 

“H-hi, Eds,” he says, wiggling his fingers. He keeps his other hand behind his back, holding the bag out of view.

Eddie leans against the door frame, cocking his head. “What brings you here, buddy?” 

“Um, well. I got you something.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkle. “A gift?” He gasps, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. He pokes his chest. “For moi?” 

When Steve nods, Eddie makes grabby hands at him. “Gimme!” 

“Um, can I come in first?” 

“Well, duh!” Eddie says, stepping aside and sweeping his arm over the entrance with a flourish. 

Steve steps in, and despite knowing Wayne is gone for the night, he starts walking towards Eddie’s room. It feels weird to give this gift to Eddie in the living room, considering what it is. 

Because giving your friend a new set of panties because you haven’t stopped thinking about the ones he already owns is any less weird if you do it in the bedroom, Steve’s brain supplies. 

Fuck, is he really doing this? 

“Soooo,” Eddie says, hooking his chin on Steve’s shoulder, trying to peek at the bag in his hands. “Whatcha got for me, Stevie?”

Yeah, he is. There’s no turning back now. 

“Here,” Steve says, handing over the pink bag with shaky hands. Eddie snatches it greedily, momentarily distracted by the pink bow decorating it before he sticks his hand inside.

Steve holds his breath but resists the urge to shut his eyes, not wanting to miss Eddie’s reaction. That way he’ll be ready if Eddie looks like he wants to punch Steve or kick him out. 

But when Eddie’s fingers brush the soft material and his expression changes, Steve doesn’t know what to brace himself for. 

Eddie’s eyes are wide as he drags his hand out, black lace panties clutched in his fingers, and he gasps audibly when he sees them, letting the bag fall at his feet. 

“S-Steve?” He asks, only slightly above a whisper. He’s not looking at Steve but staring down at the panties instead— a blush rapidly creeping on his cheeks. 

Steve doesn’t know whether that’s good or bad and it makes him nervous. “I- I went shopping in Indy and I saw those and I thought- I thought I’d get them for you.”

Eddie’s big eyes blink up at him. “You thought you’d get me lingerie-”

His voice doesn’t betray anything except shock and Steve fidgets, hanging a hand from his neck. “Uh yeah? I’m sorry if that’s like, weird- fuck it’s weird, isn’t it? It’s just that I haven’t really stopped thinking about last week-”

Eddie’s eyes go wide. 

Panicking, Steve starts rambling, hands on his hips as he paces back and forth. “You know, thinking about how you said you didn’t get the chance to- to buy these things here so I thought I’d get you those. They’re uh pretty, I thought you’d look-” Eddie’s eyes go impossibly wider at that. “Shit, not that I’ve thought about you wearing lingerie! Just- they’re nice! You’d look good in black, they’ll match your tattoos and they’ll look good with your skin and- and- fuck, okay, shit, maybe I thought about it- About you wearing those and- and the other ones. It’s- shit, it’s actually all I can think about,” he admits with a breathy chuckle. Eddie makes some sort of strangled noise. “Fuck, I’m gonna shut up now.” 

Steve stares anxiously at Eddie, but he doesn’t say anything, just stares at him, wide-eyed and slacked-jawed. 

Steve can’t help but squirm. “Can you- can you say something, Eddie, please?”

“You-” Eddie starts but has to stop to clear his throat when his voice comes out an octave higher. “You thought about me wearing panties?” 

Steve hangs his head between his shoulders with a sigh. “Y-yeah,” he admits, “a lot.”

Eddie’s sharp inhale is followed by a muttered string of curses. “Shit, shit, shit. Holy shit.”

“Eddie, I’m sorry-”

“Did you-” Eddie pauses to lick his lips. “Did you do something about it?” He asks, gesturing vaguely but Steve knows what he means. 

He whines, covering his face with his hands. “Yeah, I did. Fuck, Eddie, I’m so sorry.” 

“Jesus H. Christ, Steve-”

“I know, I’m a terrible friend-”

“What? Dude, I’m not mad.”

Steve peeks at him through his fingers. “You’re- not?”

A laugh rushes from Eddie’s lips— hilarity mixed with disbelief. “Fuck no, sweetheart,” he says and Steve’s heart stutters in his chest at the pet name. “I thought you were weirded out last week! And then you show up here with lingerie for me and I thought that’s exactly what Steve Harrington would do to prove he’s not weirded out by his friend owning panties, y’know? But this? You- thinking about me like that? Fuck, Steve, I don’t think I’m reading this wrong but if I am don’t punch me for this but- do you want to see?” 

“See what?” Steve asks dumbly.

“See me in these,” Eddie says, holding the panties up as he moves closer. He pitches his voice lower when he asks, “Do you wanna see me in these panties you got for me, sweetheart?” 

“Eddie-” Steve whines. Only in his wildest dreams did he expect Eddie to offer to show him. “Fuck yeah, I do.” 

Eddie’s mouth curls into a devilish grin. “Sit down, baby, I’ll be right back.” 

Steve falls back on the bed like a puppet whose strings were cut and watches Eddie skip to the bathroom, looking at Steve over his shoulder like he can’t believe this is really happening. 

Steve can’t believe it himself.

He sits there, waiting for Eddie, hands shaking with anticipation, warmth pooling at his stomach knowing what he’s about to see. 

He takes a few deep, calming breaths and it’s in the middle of one of those that Eddie walks back into the room and all of Steve’s air leaves him in a whoosh. 

All Steve can do is whisper out a strangled, “Fuck.” 

Eddie leans on the doorway, playing with the hem of his Black Sabbath shirt, which ends just before his waist, giving Steve a perfect view of the lace black panties stretching over Eddie’s dick, the elastic digging into his hips.

“What do you think, Stevie?” Eddie asks coyly, lifting his shirt a little further up, allowing Steve’s gaze to travel over Eddie’s happy trail right to where it disappears enticingly under that little pink bow. 

“Eddie, fuck, you look beautiful,” Steve says, breathlessly. 

“Yeah?” Eddie bites his lip, walking towards the bed, the dark lace shifting over his dick. Steve can’t take his eyes off of it, especially when he ends up at eye level with it as Eddie moves closer. “You like them?”

He gulps audibly. “Fuck yeah, I do,” he says, squirming on the bed as his dick starts to fill up, pushing uncomfortably against his zipper. He grips the bed sheets that he’s sitting on, fighting the urge to reach out and touch. 

“I like them too,” Eddie admits, his finger tracing the delicate lace pattern. Steve’s fingers itch to do the same. “They feel nice.”

“Can I-” Steve starts before he realizes what he’s saying and shuts up. 

Eddie’s eyes twinkle. “Can you what, sweetheart?”

“Touch,” Steve says, “can I touch you, Eddie?”

Eddie nods eagerly, letting his hands fall to his sides and out of the way so Steve can touch him wherever he wants. 

First, Steve puts his hands on Eddie’s hips, his thumbs toying with the waistband of his panties. “You’re right,” Steve pants, “they feel nice.”

“Mhm, you- uh, you can touch more, if you want. I like feeling your hands on me.”

“God, Eddie-” He moves his hands, stroking Eddie’s sides, under his shirt. “Can you take this off?” 

Eddie’s response is to pull his shirt over his head, leaving him in nothing but the panties. Steve can’t stop himself from moving his hands over Eddie’s chest— tracing his tattoos and his scars, playing with his guitar pick necklace, following the trail of hair until he reaches the waistband of the panties and then dipping his fingers past the elastic just enough to tease him.

All the while Eddie is squirming under his touch, small breathless noises slipping past his lips with every brush of Steve’s fingers. 

Under the panties, his cock is fully hard now, the lace stretching obscenely over his length. Slowly, so Eddie can stop him if he wants to, Steve moves his hand lower. Eddie holds his breath, watching with rapt attention as Steve’s fingers ghost over his dick, barely touching. 

He whines, hips bucking forward. “Steve-”

The sound goes straight to Steve’s dick, fully hard now and still trapped in his jeans, but like hell if he’s going to stop paying attention to Eddie to relieve the pressure building inside him. It can wait— for now, he cups Eddie’s dick over his panties and squeezes. 

Eddie makes a broken, surprised noise, his hands flying to his own hair and pulling at it just to have something to hold on to as Steve works his hand over his length repeatedly, stroking him. “Fuck, Steve, baby-” Eddie sobs, bucking his hips towards the insistent movement of Steve’s hand.

Steve glances up at him, hand still moving, and meets Eddie’s eyes. They’re nearly black and his lips are parted and red from Eddie biting them and there’s a flush spreading from his cheeks all the way down to his chest. “God, Eddie, you’re gorgeous, did you know that?” He says, awed. Eddie makes a weak noise in the back of his throat. “So fucking pretty for me.” 

The praise makes Eddie’s dick twitch, the tip leaking and leaving a damp spot on the panties. 

Steve’s mouth waters. “Eddie-” He wants to lean in and taste him, but he doesn’t know how to ask for it. 

Luckily he doesn’t have to, Eddie sees right through him. “Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie says, one of his hands moving to brush some of Steve’s hair away from his face. “Whatever you want.” 

Once he’s given permission, Steve licks his lips and then he leans in, licking Eddie’s dick from base to tip, leaving a trail of spit over the black lace. 

Eddie moans out, obscenely loud. Steve needs to hear that noise again, so he repeats what he did over and over. 

“Holy shit, oh my god-” Eddie’s words trail off into a whine when Steve licks directly at the tip of his cock where it’s peeking out from the panties. Tasting Eddie for the first time has Steve shoving a hand between his own legs and squeezing his dick, desperate for some friction. 

He gives a few more tentative kitten licks to the tip before fully wrapping his lips around the head and sucking. 

“Motherfu- ah! Steve!” Eddie cries out, his knees buckling and Steve has to grab his hips to keep him on his feet. 

“You okay?” Steve asks, letting Eddie’s dick fall from his lips, going back to the kitten licks and soft kisses to the tip. 

“I feel like I’m dying,” Eddie says, breath stuttering from Steve’s mouth on him. “Or maybe- ah, maybe I already died and I’m in heaven.”

Steve snorts, but he blushes at the praise. 

Eddie runs his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip. “You’d make a pretty angel, Stevie, though what you’re doing to me right now is downright sinful.”

“Hm, do you want me to stop?” Steve asks, eyelashes fluttering. 

“Fuck, no.” 

“Good, because I don’t want to. I want to make you come,” he admits, looking at Eddie with hungry eyes. 

“I- yeah, that’s not going to be a hard goal to achieve, Steve,” Eddie exhales on a chuckle. 

“Come here,” Steve says, grabbing two handfuls of Eddie’s lace-covered ass and bringing him forward so he can get his mouth back on him. It might not be a proper blowjob but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. He clearly enjoys the way Steve sucks at the tip, presses his tongue against the slit, mouthes at the rest of his dick over the panties. His hands eventually find Steve’s hair and he runs his fingers through the messy strands, encouragingly.

After a while, Eddie’s legs start to shake and Steve knows he won’t be able to hold himself up much longer, so with a final sloppy kiss to the head of his dick, he pushes Eddie back and stands up, disentangling Eddie’s fingers from his hair. 

Eddie whines, hips stuttering and chasing after Steve’s mouth, but Steve doesn’t let him despair for long. 

“Get on the bed,” he says, “I want you spread out on the bed for me.” 

“Fuck, okay.” 

He quickly does as he’s told, lying on his back on the bed. Steve’s hand darts between his legs again, cupping himself at the sight in front of him.

Eddie’s eyes follow his hand. “Think you should lose those jeans, big boy. The shirt too,” he suggests, “it’s only fair, considering I only have these panties on.” 

And that’s some solid logic right there who is Steve to argue?

With one swift movement, he shrugs off his shirt, feeling Eddie’s eyes on him. Then he makes quick work of his button and zipper, letting his jeans pool at his ankles before stepping out of them. 

“Oh,” Eddie gasps, and when Steve looks up, he finds him staring a hole into Steve’s boxers.

“What?”

“Nothing, just- you’re actually into this,” he says, gesturing at Steve’s crotch, the outline of his hard dick painstakingly obvious.  “Into me.”

Steve snorts. “And you’re realizing that just now?”

“Dude, I told myself so many times there was no way-”

“Please don’t call me dude while I can still taste your dick in my mouth, Eddie,” Steve says, scrunching up his nose.

But Eddie ignores him and goes on, “-no way this could ever happen, it’s kinda hard to believe it.”

“Well, it is and I’ll prove it to you,” Steve says, climbing onto the bed and settling between Eddie’s legs. Now that he knows he’s allowed, he wastes no time going for what he wants, which is mouthing sloppily at Eddie’s dick, coating his panties with spit. 

It makes Eddie squirm violently on the bed, gripping the bedsheets and letting out so many moans and curses. 

When he pulls back to breathe, Steve can’t help but groan when he sees that the lace panties are basically see-through now from Steve’s spit and Eddie’s precum. “I think we might ruin your panties.”

Eddie snorts weakly. “I quite literally do not give a shit,” he says, waving a dismissive hand at Steve. “But you can take them off if you wanna.”

“No,” Steve says right away. He traces the lacey pattern with a featherlight touch. “I don’t, I like you in these.” 

Eddie lets out a low groan. “Oh, fuck me.”

Steve’s finger freezes as he considers Eddie’s words. “Can I?”

“Huh?”

“Can I fuck you? Can I use my fingers?”

Eddie gapes at him. “You want to?” When Steve nods eagerly, he lets out a whoosh of air. “Holy shit, yeah, of course you can. There’s, uh, lube in the nightstand.”

That’s all Steve needs to scramble to the bedside table and grab the bottle of lube. He wastes no time coating his fingers, eager to get them inside Eddie but not wanting to rush and risk hurting him. 

He considers taking the panties off for better access but there’s no need because Eddie drags his legs up until his knees are bent, his feet flat against the mattress, and then he snakes a hand between his legs, grabs hold of the panties and moves them to one side, exposing his hole. 

“Oh my God,” Steve gasps, going dizzy with arousal. 

“Steve,” Eddie whines when he doesn’t move. It snaps Steve out of it and he rubs his fingers together, warming up the lube, before he brings one finger to Eddie’s entrance so he can rub at the puckered skin before pushing it in. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, Steve-”

Eddie takes Steve’s first finger greedily and asks for a second one after Steve fucks him with it only a handful of times. Steve happily gives him a second finger and when he asks for a third, Steve gives him that too. He curls his fingers in a way that has Eddie jolting from pleasure and letting out the neediest of whines. Aiming for that spot, Steve fucks him with those three fingers until Eddie’s back is arching from the bed, an incessant string of praises and curses falling from his lips.

“God, Steve, so good, sweetheart, fucking me so good, fuck, I’m close-”

Steve drinks in every word, feels them go straight to his own dick, his lower belly simmering with arousal. His brain is foggy, but he does his best to pay attention to every detail of how Eddie moves and sounds, committing them to memory for when he’s alone. 

There’s one thing he wants to see more than anything— Eddie coming for him. So he speeds up his pace, feeling the elastic of the panties dig into his wrist on every thrust. And because he can’t help himself, he also lowers his face so it’s lined up with Eddie’s dick, putting his mouth on him again, sucking enthusiastically at the head. 

“Jesus, fuck! Stevie, oh God,” Eddie pants, nearly jumping off the bed when Steve adds his mouth back to the mix. He thrashes around on the bed as Steve finds a ruthless rhythm between his fingers and his mouth. 

He keeps his eyes open and on Eddie, sensing how close he is and not wanting to miss any of it. 

When Steve purposefully times a particular hard suck with his fingers hitting that spot inside him, it finally happens. 

With a loud, strangled moan, Eddie comes. Hard. Steve has to pull off so he doesn’t choke and he only manages to swallow some of his cum, the last few spurts mixed with his spit dripping from his mouth and all over Eddie’s spent dick and the panties stretching over it. It’s fucking filthy and Steve has to sit back on his heels and squeeze his dick so he doesn’t come untouched.

His other hand is still inside Eddie, three fingers deep, and he can’t resist rubbing the pad of his thumb over Eddie’s hole where it’s stretched around Steve. The touch makes Eddie squirm and mewl, his dick giving a pathetic twitch.

Slowly, Steve withdraws his fingers and the elastic of the panties snaps back into place. Eddie lets out a soft whine at that.

Steve takes a moment to admire Eddie. 

He’s a fucking mess— his hair fanned out against the bed, a flush spreading down to his chest, cum and spit and lube coating his panties. Steve feels the urge to mess him up even more. He wants to jerk himself off and come all over Eddie. At this point, it’ll take two or three strokes at best. 

“Hey, uh,” Steve clears his throat, his voice rough from sucking Eddie off. “I’ve got some bad news.”

“Hm?” Even if Eddie acknowledges Steve he still seems out of it, it takes a few seconds for his cloudy eyes to find and focus on him. “What’s that?”

“Your panties are definitely ruined,” Steve announces regretfully. 

Eddie snorts weakly. “So am I,” he says, a sort of disbelieving laugh tumbling from his lips. “Jesus fucking Christ, Steve.”

Steve lets out a pleased chuckle, warmth spreading through him at Eddie’s awed tone.

“Gimme a moment and I’ll return the favor, m’kay, sweetheart?” He tells Steve, smiling lazily.

It’s silly but Steve feels himself blush at the endearment. “Oh, you- uh, you don’t have to-”

Eddie scoffs. “You don’t have to, he says. Steve, I want to.”

A small needy noise slips past Steve’s lips. “What do you want?”

“Nu-uh, Stevie, it’s your turn. This is about what you want."

Steve gulps as he goes over every thought he’s had about Eddie since he realized he was into him, especially in the last week. “I- fuck, honestly? I really want to fuck you,” he says, watching Eddie’s eyes visibly darken at his words. “But I don’t think I’ll last long enough to make it good,” he admits sheepishly. 

Eddie whispers a breathy, “Fuck.” He shakes his head in disbelief like he still can’t wrap his head around Steve being so turned on without either of them even touching his dick. “I- we can save that for next time.” 

Steve’s breath catches— next time? Holy shit.

Eddie’s head lolls to the side. He looks at Steve with hazy eyes. “You could- uh, you could fuck my thighs,” he suggests almost shyly. “Y’know, if you want.”

Boy does he ever. “Eds,” Steve says, voice thick with lust. “Hell yeah, I want.”

Eddie flashes him a pleased grin, and then with renewed energy, he rolls over, settling on his hands and knees on the bed. Steve groans at the sight of Eddie’s ass framed by black lace. 

“Like what you see?” Eddie asks, smirking at Steve over his shoulder and fucking- shaking his ass. 

“You have no idea,” Steve breathes out. 

“I have some idea,” Eddie says cheekily, staring pointedly at Steve’s crotch where his dick is tenting his boxers obscenely. “C’mon, let me see you, big boy.” 

Feeling Eddie’s eyes on him, Steve grabs the waistband of his boxers and pulls them down, his dick slapping against his stomach, hard as a rock.

Eddie noticeably swallows, cursing under his breath. “Shit, yeah, big boy is right.”

Steve smirks, wrapping his hand around his dick and giving it a few slow strokes. Eddie whines, fingers digging roughly on the bedsheets. Steve wonders if he’s thinking about replacing Steve’s hand with his or if he’d rather use his mouth. Next time— the words ring in Steve’s ears but he forces himself to focus on what he’s supposed to be doing now. 

“Can I-” He trails off, gesturing at Eddie’s ass. Eddie nods eagerly. 

Steve situates himself behind him, skin buzzing with arousal and anticipation. The back of Eddie’s thighs glisten with lube from Steve messily fingering him earlier, as well as the skin between his cheeks. Eyes glued to Eddie’s ass, Steve blindly reaches for the lube and spreads a fair amount over his dick before he grabs Eddie’s hips and lines it up with the space between his thighs. 

“Ready?”

“Yeah, fuck my thighs, baby,” Eddie pants, hanging his head between his arms. 

And Steve can’t hold himself back anymore, almost shaking with the need to come, so he finally slips his dick between Eddie’s thighs, moaning at how soft and warm and good it feels. 

Steve whispers out a strangled, “Shit.”

He pauses for a moment, his hips flush against Eddie’s ass and the back of his thighs. He’s worried he’ll come too soon, just from how hot this is, so he takes deep slow breaths to calm himself down— in and out while his fingers trace the lacey outline of the panties, marvelling at the stark contrast between the dark fabric and Eddie’s pale skin, the way it matches the dragon tattoo on Eddie’s lower back. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” Steve mutters before gripping Eddie’s hips with both hands again, keeping him in place as he pulls his own hips back until just the head of his dick is peeking between Eddie’s legs and then pushes forward again.

He sets a slow but steady rhythm after that, rocking his hips back and forth. It’s so good and Steve feels his dick steadily leaking precum, which along with the lube he coated himself with earlier, is making his cock slide more smoothly against the inside of Eddie’s thighs. 

“Fuck, Eddie, you feel so good,” he groans, his fingers gripping Eddie’s hips harder and pulling him back to him so he meets Steve’s thrusts. 

Eddie catches on, pushing back on his own at the same time he squeezes his thighs together. 

“Oh, fuck,” Steve moans brokenly, his hips stuttering. “Keep doing that, Eddie, please.” 

“As your Majesty commands,” Eddie says dorkily even if it comes out slightly strangled. 

Steve doesn’t get to call him out on it because then he’s pressing his legs tightly around Steve’s cock, making it impossible to string words together, only high-pitched whines and needy whimpers leaving Steve’s lips. 

“I swear to God,” Eddie pants, “I’m gonna come again just from those fucking- sounds you keep making.” 

Steve groans loudly and hears Eddie let out a string of curses before he leans his weight on one hand so the other one can reach between his legs. Curious, Steve moves to bend over Eddie’s back, his arms wrapping around him, his chin pressing against the back of Eddie’s neck.

“H-hey,” Eddie says shakily, turning his head so he can smile at Steve far too sweet for what they’re doing right now. 

“Hey,” Steve says back, kissing Eddie’s shoulder and laughing at the way Eddie yelps and jumps when Steve’s hand snakes under him to find that he’s hard again. “Let me.”

“Wait- fuck, it’s your- your turn-” But Eddie’s protest dies on his lips when Steve replaces his hand on his dick.

“My turn to pick what I want, yeah. And I want you to come again, Eds, with me this time. I’m close, babe,” Steve whispers against his ear as he starts rolling his hips again, fucking into Eddie’s thighs and stroking him at the same time. 

Eddie lets out a strangled, “Fuck, sweetheart,” which Steve choruses with his own breathless curse, lips pressed against the nape of Eddie’s neck. 

“God, Eddie, you feel amazing,” Steve moans, moving faster, both his hips and his hand on Eddie’s dick, his thumb smearing precum around the sensitive head. 

“Gonna- fuck, Steve- gonna feel so much better when you fuck me,” Eddie says, panting heavily. 

“God, shut up-” Steve whimpers when Eddie’s words send shocks of pleasure through his body in an almost painful way.

“Gonna ruin me even more then, sweetheart,” Eddie says, decidedly ignoring Steve and not shutting up. “Mark me up inside too, it’d be so easy to just, fuck- just move the panties to the side and slide in- ah, Steve-” 

The rest of Eddie’s words die in his throat as pleasure builds up almost unbearably for the two of them. The only sounds that can be heard after that are the slapping of skin against skin as Steve continues to fuck Eddie’s thighs and the string of whines and choked-up noises spilling from both of their lips. 

Eddie’s words echo in Steve’s mind— next time and when you fuck me and move the panties to the side and mark me up inside. It’s the last one that tips him over the edge or rather knowing that when he comes he’s going to mess Eddie up even more, ruin him. 

With a cry of Eddie’s name, Steve comes, his eyes slipping shut as he pushes his cock between his legs one more time and spills between them. 

A small whimpery, “fuck,” falls from Eddie’s lips as Steve’s cum drips down the inside of his thighs. It takes Steve jerking him once, twice for Eddie to start shaking as his own orgasm washes over him, coming all over the sheets.

Their arms and legs can’t possibly hold them up after that and they both flop gracelessly onto the very dirty mattress, their bodies sticking together with sweat and cum. It’s gross and disgusting— and also kind of perfect. 

“God,” Eddie says with a laugh, his face smushed against the bed. 

“Yup,” Steve agrees, draped over Eddie’s spine.

“No, like- I think I saw God. I died and I saw God and she said ‘it’s not your time yet, my child, you still need to be fucked by Steve Harrington’ and sent me back.”

Steve snorts at Eddie’s nonsense. “Well, we can’t afford to disappoint God,” he plays along.

“Hm, nope, but she’ll understand that I need some time to recover,” Eddie says, pulling a face, “And a shower, I’m sticky.”

“We both are.”

“Hm, wanna shower together?” Eddie asks, waggling his eyebrows.

Steve chuckles softly even if the idea sounds enticing. “I thought you said you needed time to recover.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t blow you in the shower,” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Christ,” Steve mutters. “As much as I want that, Eds, I don’t think I have another round in me.”

With a little royal twist of his hand, he says, “As His Majesty wishes.”

“Dork,” Steve says fondly. “Um, I do want something though.”

“Hm, what’s that? I told you, Stevie, anything you want.”

Steve keeps his voice only slightly above a whisper, “Can I kiss you?”

As soon as the words are out, Eddie cranes his neck trying to look at Steve and when that doesn’t work, he wiggles under his weight until he can roll over and Steve is lying on top of him. It’s even more gross this way, their fronts pressed together and Eddie’s ass resting on top of the wet spot on the bed, but Steve doesn’t care about any of that. He just wants to know what Eddie’s answer will be. 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie says with a bewildered smile. “Of course you can.”

With a smile of his own, Steve props himself up on his arms so his face is hovering over Eddie’s and he can take it in for a minute— the blush high in his cheeks, the way his eyes sparkle with excitement, the way he licks his lips in anticipation. 

And then he can’t wait any longer, he swoops down and presses their lips together. 

After everything they did today Steve can’t believe that this— his lips sliding against Eddie’s, the slightest hint of tongue, the way they’re both smiling into the kiss— is what has his insides melting into a puddle of goo. Then again, everything else could be excused as a ‘heat of the moment’ kind of thing, but not this. 

“Hm, if I knew guys in panties did it for you, Stevie, I would’ve left mine lying around somewhere for you to find much sooner,” Eddie says once the kiss slows down naturally and they’re just resting their foreheads together and breathing each other’s air. 

Steve chuckles. “It’s not just about the panties though, it’s, uh, it’s about you. I’d still be into you if I’d found Weird Al boxers in your dresser instead.”

Eddie cackles, his arms wrapping around Steve and trapping him against his chest. They really should clean up before they’re stuck together permanently. “I can’t say I own those but for you, Stevie, I’ll find some.”

“I think I’d prefer if you bought more panties,” Steve teases, his finger playing with the little pink bow just below Eddie’s navel.

“Whatever you want,” Eddie says once again. “I mean it.”

“What if I want you to be my boyfriend?” Steve asks a little shyly. 

Eddie plants a sloppy kiss on Steve’s forehead. “Done.”

***

Next time Steve buys panties for Eddie— to make up for the ones he ruined— he brings him along and lets him pick. 

“Whatever you want, Eds,” Steve tells him, echoing his words.

Steve knows he’ll like seeing Eddie in anything he picks— 

And he’ll like it even more when he can take it off of him. 

[aventurineswife]

HEY

how are youuuu?? Hope you’re doing well <33

HOW ABOUT

An Aventurine x reader where like he confesses about like his real name and his past and everything and then like teaches reader about avgin culture ?

Behind the Mask, Beneath the Gamble

Summary: Aventurine opens up about his tragic past and shares the true story behind his persona. He confesses his struggles growing up on the harsh desert world of Sigonia, surviving slavery, and losing his people. As a way of honoring his heritage, he introduces you to the culture of the Avgins, teaching you their dances and sharing intimate details of his upbringing. With a deep connection growing between you two, Aventurine starts to let go of his emotional barriers, showing vulnerability for the first time.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Vulnerable Aventurine, Emotional Growth, Cultural Exploration, Survivor’s Guilt, Trust, Healing.

Warnings: Mentions of trauma (slavery, loss, abuse), Mild emotional angst, Mature themes (survivor’s guilt, emotional barriers).

A/N: OMGGG! HIII WELCOME BACK!! 🫣🤭💖 I'VE BEEN WELL (NOT WITH MY EXAMS AHEM) WHAT ABOUT YOU? I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!! IT MIGHT BE BIT OOC(my memory is horrible and I keep forgetting a lot of things) :') I kept reminded of that one song from Arcane of Powder and Ekko's dance(never watched arcane it btw)😪💔

The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing across the walls as the faint hum of a starship reverberated around you. Aventurine leaned against the far wall, his signature smirk softened into something far more vulnerable. He had invited you here, away from the grandeur and noise of the IPC, to share something he had never spoken of before.

"You know," he began, his voice quieter than usual, "most people think they know me. The flamboyant gambler. The strategist. The Stoneheart who plays life like a game. But that's not the whole story."

You tilted your head, intrigued but hesitant to interrupt. He glanced at you, his eyes catching the dim light, revealing something fragile beneath the confident exterior.

"My real name isn’t Aventurine. It’s Kakavasha." His voice cracked slightly, and he looked away, as if expecting judgment.

“Kakavasha,” you repeated softly, the name rolling off your tongue like a forgotten melody.

His shoulders relaxed slightly at your tone, though his gaze remained distant. "I was born on Sigonia, a desert world where survival wasn’t a game—it was a daily fight. My clan, the Avgins... we were traders, dancers, dreamers. We had a culture rich with stories, music, and rituals. But none of that mattered to the Katicans who tore us apart. I was just a boy when they branded me."

You caught a glimpse of the faint imprint on his neck, a mark he'd usually hide beneath high collars and his carefully curated image.

“I escaped,” he continued, his voice steady now, though every word seemed like it carried the weight of an entire galaxy. “But not before losing everyone. My family, my people—they’re all gone. And I... I’ve spent my life trying to make sure no one controls me again.”

You stepped closer, your heart aching for the man who stood before you—not as Aventurine, the untouchable gambler, but as Kakavasha, a survivor. "You’ve been carrying this alone all this time," you murmured.

He let out a bitter chuckle, his lips curving into a wry smile. "When you gamble with your life, there’s not much room for sharing." He paused, his gaze finally meeting yours, filled with a mix of vulnerability and defiance. “But I don’t want to keep this from you anymore. You’ve seen past the mask, and... if you’ll let me, I want to show you more.”

You nodded, your chest tight with emotion. "I’m here, Kakavasha. Whatever you want to share, I’m listening."

His expression softened, and for the first time, he looked genuinely at peace. "Then let me teach you something about where I come from. About the Avgins."

He stepped toward the center of the room, his movements deliberate, almost reverent. "Our dances... they weren’t just for entertainment. They told stories—of our struggles, our triumphs, our love for the stars." He extended a hand toward you. “May I?”

Your heart raced as you placed your hand in his. He guided you into a slow, graceful rhythm, his steps fluid and deliberate. "This one," he said softly, "is the Dance of the Caravan. It tells the story of a journey across the desert, of finding hope even in the harshest conditions."

The movements were intricate but natural, his guidance making it easy to follow. As you danced, he began to hum a haunting melody, his voice low and rich, carrying the weight of his heritage.

When the dance ended, he held your hand for a moment longer, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "You’re the first person I’ve shared this with in years," he admitted.

You smiled, your own emotions threatening to spill over. "Thank you, Kakavasha. For trusting me."

He chuckled softly, a genuine warmth in his eyes now. "You’ve gambled on me, and for once, I think I might’ve won something worth more than I ever imagined."

As the ship continued its journey through the stars, the two of you sat together, the weight of the past replaced by the promise of a shared future. For the first time in a long time, Kakavasha—Aventurine—allowed himself to feel hope.

[2hoothoots]

saw this post in the tag earlier talking about how we never really get a detailed look inside Maligula’s mind, and it got me thinking about the themes of the game again so I’m gonna use it as a jumping-off point. because i agree, it’s very significant that we never get to really see Maligula/Lucrecia as she used to be! but i think that fact actually makes the game much stronger, especially on a thematic level.

Lucrecia’s presence haunts the narrative throughout Psychonauts 2. at first, we can only make her out through her absence. she’s the seventh stump around the campfire, the missing center of a torn photo. we see glimpses of her in the ruined fragments of Ford’s mind. in Helmut’s mind, she’s a looming specter, a shadow of the friend he once knew. in Gristol’s mind, she’s a celebrated war hero. and as the game goes on, we learn that everything in Psychonauts 1 – the Aquatos leaving Grulovia, the family ‘curse’, Raz running away to camp – all of that was set in motion because of her. she’s at the very center of the tragedy that PN2 revolves around.

and she does haunt the narrative, even if Nona is still alive. because the old Lucrecia – the real Lucrecia – we never get to meet her. she’s long gone.

the closest we come to actually interacting with Lucrecia, as she used to be, is in Cassie’s mind. while the rest of the Psychic 7 only have a few lines to share, paper Lucrecia has a full dialogue tree. this is probably one of my favourite moments in the whole game. there’s an awe in Raz’s face, getting to meet her, but also this palpable tension throughout the conversation.

(screenshots taken from here! if you don’t remember this conversation, or just want a refresher, i’d highly recommend going back to watch it.)

this dialogue tree is great. it’s funny, and subtle, and surprisingly moving. Raz is full of questions for Lucrecia, and Lucrecia isn’t giving much away, but we get glimpses of her story here that are so tantalising. it’s a fascinating window into the person she used to be: coy, and playful, and a little aloof.

but – this is also very clearly not Lucy. we hear Cassie’s own thoughts coming out of her mouth (“Cassie told us [hydraulic mining] was very bad for the environment, but nobody listened to her, as usual”), but her dialogue is also steeped in Cassie’s confusion, her struggle to understand what happened (“I don’t really know [why I murdered all those people]. I was the nicest person during my time at Green Needle Gulch”). this is the closest we ever get to seeing Lucrecia, face-to-face, but she’s still heavily filtered through someone else’s perception.

how much of this is the real Lucrecia, and how much of it is just how Cassie sees her? we’ll never know.

i think a crucial part of PN2’s themes is that perception – how you can be someone completely different to different people around you. everyone has their own version of the story to tell. the most obviously propagandistic is Gristol’s retelling, which comes as a shock twist at a climactic moment that throws the whole game on its head. here, we get to see the other side of the story, from someone who only ever knew Lucrecia as a protector, a general, a murderer – and thought she should stay that way.

(screenshots from here)

but as entrenched as he is in his narrative, Gristol doesn’t have all the answers, either. and Ford’s version of events, while probably more factually correct, is still steeped in his own biases. Ford was so dedicated to the memory of the woman he loved that he did terrible things for her; and when he tried to bury that memory, it was so deeply entrenched in his mind that it broke him.

(screenshot from here)

but note the wording, when he talks about using the Astralathe to “neutralise” the “problematic” parts of her mind. My Lucy.

something else that PN2 touches on is how experiences change you. after the battle against Maligula, the remaining members of the Psychic 7 become very different individuals. Cassie withdraws from the world, unable to return to normality after everything that happened; Compton becomes an anxious wreck without his support network. Bob is broken with grief after the loss of his husband, and Ford willingly shattered his mind because it was what he thought he had to do to keep Lucrecia safe. and throughout the game, Raz helps all of them – but he doesn’t fix them. he doesn’t undo everything they went through, because how could he? the things that happened will stay with each of them forever.

and it’s the same with Lucrecia. even after she lets go of the rage and grief and violence that Maligula carried with her, symbolically severing the threads that bind her to her past – she doesn’t just go back to her old self. because she’s someone different now, too. she’s a mother, and a grandmother, and she loves her family so truly and so deeply. she’s patched together a new life for herself. and that’s what she affirms to Raz, in the moments before the final fight.

and he loves her right back. even after everything he’s learned, she’s still his Nona.

i think sometimes a story is more satisfying for not giving you the easy answers. Psychonauts 2 leaves a lot of things unsaid. it gives you pieces of the puzzle, glimpses of Lucrecia’s story through other people’s eyes, and asks you to draw your own conclusions from that. and then it says: this is who she is now. this is what matters. and personally, i think it’s stronger for that.

[holylulusworld]

BFG (9)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings/Tags: pregnancy, fluff, light smut (unprotected), love confessions

Catch up here: BFG (8)

BFG masterlist

He watched you move on top of him with adoration in his eyes. Reacher carefully held your hips in a soft grip to help you guide your movement.

With your knees spread wide and your hands flat on the mattress, you slowly rocked forward and back while moving your hips down onto him on the downstroke.

“Fuck, peach pie. You look so beautiful on top of me,” he watched you place your hand on his wide chest to peck his lips. “I want you to take what’s yours.”

“You’re already mine,” you kiss him again, “aren’t you? You came back to me.” You whined feelings his cock twitch inside of you. “I want you to come inside of me, my big friendly giant.” You purred against his lips. “Please, baby.”

You already came twice and wanted nothing more than to feel him fill you up again.

“I could cum only by watching you ride me like the fiery woman you are,” he rumbled close to his release and dropped his hands from your hips to cup your face. “Peach pie, you fuck me so good.” Reacher purred as his warmth filled you.

“Wow,” you stopped moving, and carefully laid down on his chest to catch your breath. “That was…amazing.”

“You are amazing,” he whispered while running his big hand up and down your back. “I can’t believe you took me back after I left.”

“We didn’t part on bad terms, Reacher. I knew about your hobo lifestyle before you left,” you sniffled. “I just missed you so much. It’s crazy that I fell for you so hard in such a short time. You gave me the best thing ever happening in my life.”

“You gave me something I haven’t had in a long time,” his voice shook for a second, and you lifted your head from his chest to look him in the eyes.

“Food and a bed big enough for my giant?” You giggle. “Or mind-blowing sex.”

“A family,” he softly said, “and a place I want to return to. I was a hobo all my life, but now I found home in you, and our baby.”

“Reacher,” you sniffled and struggled to push the tears away. “You…I love you.” Before you could cry and ruin the moment, you hid your face in his neck.

“I love you too, peach pie, and, yes, the bed too,” he chuckles while you shed a few happy tears. “It’s very stable. I think we should test its quality some more in the morning…”

“I see you kept him,” Frances dipped her head to watch Reacher sit on his seat at your diner. He smirked the moment you placed a plate with a slice of peach pie in front of him. “I guess you came back because she feeds you well.”

“You’re still around. Why?” Reacher glanced at Neagley and furrowed his brows. “I thought you said you’d leave town after I arrived.”

“I only made sure that you do not chicken out,” she replied and shrugged. “You know, to find out if I must hunt you down.”

“You stayed to get more cereals out of Y/N,” he smirked at her for a second before turning his attention toward the peach pie. “I came back for my peach pie.” He looked at the pie in front of him. “The pie is only a bonus.”

“Was that a dirty joke from you, Reacher?” She glanced at him, smirking. “Seriously? Major Reacher made a dirty joke.”

“I can be funny,” he grumbled. Reacher didn’t want you to believe that he’s a grump and has no sense of humor. If you believe he’s only good at repairing things and hurting people, you could change your mind and chase him away.

“Uh-huh,” Frances nodded slowly. “Sure, you can be funny, Reacher.”

“So, you two know each other from work. Have you been in contact for the whole time or,” you watched Reacher tense. He didn’t stay in contact with the rest of his former team. The only one he stayed in contact with was Neagley.”

“Reacher is not the kind of guy sending Christmas cards,” Frances hastily explained. “But if you need him, he’s there. You don’t have to explain anything. He jumps into a bus or airplane and comes to your rescue.”

You placed your hand on Reacher’s, giving him a soft smile. He was tense after your question, and you regretted opening your mouth. Sometimes you just can’t stop yourself. “He’s a protector, and I couldn’t be happier having him around.”

Reacher visibly relaxed at your words. He knew by now that you’re not the kind of person who tells lies to make other people more comfortable.

“I love me a man who can eat too,” you gently ran your fingertips over Reacher’s hand while looking him deep in the eyes. “Especially when the person is willing to give something up to make another person happy.”

Neagley nods. She’s happy for Reacher, even if he’s sometimes a big and grumpy Klotz. – Or rather, most of the time. He holds a special place in her heart and knows that somehow, she wormed her way into his heart too.

“You should reconsider your decision,” Frances laughs. “He’ll eat all your food, and did you see his size? You’ll never have enough space in your house again.”

“He can keep me warm in winter too. I like it cozy,” you smiled at him while squeezing his hand. “I think Reacher made my grandmother’s house a home."

Part 10

Tags in reblog.

[dsireland86]

Requesting Noah x reader where the reader experiences post partum depression after giving birth to their newborn baby girl.

Post partum depression is no joke and something so many women, including myself, have had to deal with. I wish it on no new mom. But, when you have a good partner who supports you entirely, it makes all the difference🥰

PostPartum

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @Youlookforultraviolet @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

I held her in my arms like she was the most valuable thing in the world. To me she was. She was my daughter. She was the best part of me and her mother put together, a treasure created out of pure love.

I looked over at my wife, watching as she delivered the remaining proof of her pregnancy, feeling nothing but pride and respect for her. What I had just witnessed in the last thirteen hours was nothing short of an absolute miracle.

I had no idea how difficult it was for a woman to give birth until now. The strength and resilience I saw in her made me see her and all women in a whole new light. It was an indescribable yet incredible feeling.

She looked up at me, smiling her beautiful yet exhausted smile. She looked completely different now; she was a mother. I grinned back, offering her our daughter and gently laid her on her chest when she said yes.

"Noah, she has your nose and your eyes," my wife gushed, kissing our little girl's rosy forehead.

"She really does, doesn't she?" I marveled, unable to hide my grin. I kissed my wife's forehead, praising her over and over for what she went through for us. I had what I'd always wanted. I had my family.

Days after we came home were a struggle. The nights were sleepless, the days exhausting. The constant feeding and changing diapers was a lot of work I wasn't prepared for. But neither was my wife.

She started crying more than usual. At first, it was simple little tears, but then there were days where those tears lingered all day and sometimes into the night, too. They would lead into spurts of her doubting her ability to be a mother and caring for our baby the way she needed to be cared for.

That's when she would say things like, "Our daughter does better when I'm not around. Maybe it's for the best", or "I just want to disappear. All of this is too much."

I knew she was exhausted, not mentally prepared for any of this, so I did my best to help take the burden off her shoulders, hoping it would help. Sometimes it did, but most of the time I think it only made things worse.

A few weeks went by, and things began to mellow out some; with our daughter at least. We got into a routine and a schedule of sleep, making the nights more bearable.

But my wife would still have her spouts of irritability, sometimes waking up and starting things for no reason. It was usually over little things like dishes or clothes, but then it started to become bigger. She accused me of not being home enough and not helping out enough which would always end with her falling apart and crying again. It broke me.

I didn't know what to do, except hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay, even though I wasn't so sure.

I would watch her during feedings and how she seemed distant from our baby, looking away, never making that mother to baby eye contact I read about in the "What to Expect When Your Wife is Expanding" book Jolly bought me for my first "father's day". She was physically there, but not mentally.

Days after our daughter turned a month old, I came home to find her sitting on the couch in the living room, staring into nothing. She had the most distant spaced out look on her face, her eyes completely void of anything.

"Baby, are you alright?" I gently shook her. She finally snapped out of whatever daze she was in, shaking her head.

"Noah," smiling weakly at me.

"Baby, I'm really worried about you. You're not looking or acting like yourself," I finally admitted to her.

"I feel okay," she said weakly.

"When was the last time you ate?" I brushed some loose hair out of her eyes, running my hand down her cheek.

She thought for a moment then shrugged.

"Come on, I sighed, taking her hand and pulling her towards the kitchen. That's when the baby monitor went off, signaling our little girl was awake.

"Why don't you go get her, and I'll make us something to eat." My wife shook her head.

"No, you get her. She wants her daddy."

Letting go of my hand she made her way into the kitchen, leaving me in a bit of shock. I thought this was the worst of it, but I didn't know how much worse it could get.

Sex was out of the question. Not just for the first six weeks of course, but even past that. She closed herself off to me, not wanting me to touch her or be around her. It got to the point that she was sleeping on the couch and whenever I came into the room she would leave. I didn't understand any of it.

I eventually had to stay home from the studio and recording with the guys, having everyone bring everything to my house because I was too scared to leave her and the baby alone. Something was off with my wife, and I couldn't figure it out. I was taking it personally, thinking that the end of us had come and what was meant to be the happiest time in our lives was now becoming the hardest and most hurtful. I was done. I couldn't go through with it anymore.

One night, after our little one fell asleep after her feeding, my wife laid her in her bassinet then turned to leave the room.

"Don't leave. Please. Just stay with me for a minute," I asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

She turned and looked at me with tears in her eyes.

All the color was gone from her beautiful face, her complexion dull. Her hair, normally shiny and in her wavy ponytail, was unkept, piled high on the top of her head in a messy bun. Her sleep clothes were the same ones she'd worn for almost a week.

This was nothing but a shell of my wife and it killed me seeing her this way.

"Come sit with me, baby, please," patting the bed next to me. At first she hesitated, but then, surprisingly, she came and partially sat on the bed.

I tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling at her when she looked at me so sadly. I leaned in to kiss her, slowly so as to not startle her, and felt relieved when she kissed me back. Her hands found the back of my neck, twisting the longer pieces of hair at the nape of it. Her touch sent shivers down my spine. I was longing for her in ways I didn't even realize.

"I miss you," I confessed, placing my forehead to hers and holding her head between my hands.

"I know," she sniffed and I wiped away the tears that slid down her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs.

"I miss you, too, Noah."

"Then talk to me," I whispered, "tell me what you're feeling. Even if you can't make sense out of it. Just tell me anyway. I'll listen."

And she did.

I ran a hot bubble bath and for the first time in months I held my wife's beautiful naked body against mine, listening as she told me everything she had been going through.

I washed her hair, scrubbed her back, and helped her shave her legs, and in return, she gave me the best sex I'd had in a while.

Watching her face as she came on my cock buried up inside her made me cum, the feeling taking us both to a higher place we hadn't been in a while. It was euphoric.

Once out of the bath and fully dressed, she checked on our little angel still fast asleep, and for the first time since we brought her home, I watched the brightest, sweetest smile grace my wife's face as she looked down on her. It made my heart swell with joy.

We discovered that night, after some slight research that what she was experiencing was called postpartum depression.

It's something most new mother's get, some more extreme than others. We weren't throwing all our eggs into the basket of self diagnosis, but she promised to call her doctor the next morning and schedule an appointment.

Seven months old. Time flies when you're having fun. I watched my wife as she attempted to feed our angel sweet potatoes for the first time. Surprisingly, she liked them. A quarter of the jar later and we had a happy, sleepy little baby.

I cleaned her up and handed her to mama as she willingly and lovingly took her and cradled her just the way she liked it. With some warm milk, a soft blanket, and mama's arms, our little girl was out like a light.

My wife looked up at me, smiling brightly. She was herself again and there was no better feeling than to see her return. With a mild medication and a little therapy, postpartum depression slowly made its way out of our lives, restoring to me the woman I loved.

She apologized, over and over, time and time again, but I always reminded her there was nothing to apologize for. None of it was ever her fault.

"Thank you for sticking it out with me, Noah. Thank you for not running away."

I took her hand and kissed it, rubbing her growing belly carrying baby Davis number two. Now that we knew what to mostly expect, this little gem would be easier to handle.

"For better or for worse, Princess. You've got me and them, forever."

[stu-dyingstudent]

Sakura Haruno fic recs: ANBU ROOT

It only feels right to make my ROOT list now since I posted my ANBU fic list! Similarly to the shadow corps, ROOT had so much wasted potential it actually saddens me. Kishimoto had so many great ideas in Naruto that he just never fully fleshed out and it's a shame. One thing in specific is the whole Torune and Shino situation. Two words: wasted potential!!! It could've been so good and really developed on Shino (and the Aburame clan).

Anyway, once again since our knowledge on the stories and workings of ROOT are limited, this allows for some pretty interesting interpretations. Also, I actually saw an interesting comment the other day about how Sakura would've been a good candidate for the program because of her chakra control and lack of family influence in Konoha and I honestly have to agree. I might be a bit biased, but whatever. Enjoy some root!Sakura recs!

Also, try out my ANBU list (some overlap).

Started: 2024.08.13

Last Updated: 2024.12.19

note: feel free to check out my master list which has a bunch of Sakura Haruno fic recs (all organized)!

----

The Small Postures - Celenier || ao3 || T || kakasaku || canon divergence || incomplete

Sakura acts as a spy for Tsunade when Danzo takes an interest in her. While earning her place in ANBU Root, she discovers her own path to greatness. She learns grim secrets about how her village operates, makes terrible enemies, and begins to appreciate the extent of her fractured personality.

The Small Postures was oddly disturbing to me... After Shikamaru is approached for ROOT, it's decided by the higher ups that someone more expendable should infiltrate to take the division down. Sakura is the chosen one, but at what cost? With Kakashi acting as her contact and her only confidant on the matter, how will this affect their relationship? Truth be told, I haven't gotten far enough for any sort of romance, so I have no comments there, but this fic is very well written and quite ominous at times.

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Black Bough - Re_Adrienne || ao3 || unrated || gen || root AU || ongoing

Sakura's parents are civilians.

It does not spare them.

In which Sakura forgets, Sai pretends, and Kakashi can't tell if he's failing the mission.

I really love this fic! Sakura joins ROOT just before her graduation after her parent's death and it's there she meets Sai. Years later the two of them are extracted by Kakashi and she is put under his watch as she readjusts. Part of the struggle is the known fact that she was supposed to be a member of Team 7, which causes some drama (?). There's some super interesting ROOT lore going on and I always have a soft spot for Sai and Sakura friendships!!

Edit: The author has changed the tags and this now seems like it will be a kakasakusai fic.

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Five Kingdoms for the Dead - Evil Is A Relative Term || ffn || M || canon divergence || complete

After the Forest of Death, Sakura comes to realize that being weak is no longer an option. However, she finds that change is sometimes painful and that truth doesn't always come easy. Luckily, she'll have some help along the way.

It's been a hot minute since I've read Five Kingdoms for the Dead, but I'm fairly certain there is some ROOT stuff going on in here! Nonetheless, this is a great fic with some really interesting worldbuilding.

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Trials of Change - Espoiretreves || ao3 || gen || time travel AU || complete

Haruno Sakura made a promise. Looking in the eyes of her Shisou and the reanimated Hokage, she took on the most important mission of her life. Go back in time and try to prevent the 4th Shinobi War. Now, Sakura is back to her 5-year-old body, with all the knowledge and haunting memories of the future. She vows to keep her precious people safe and stop certain events from happening, without altering the timeline too much. The trials her emotions and logic put her through have her questioning her very existence, but for the sake of peace, she has to push forward. No matter what.

Trials of Change is actually apart of a time travel series and I have to say that it is probably one of the best of the genre! This fic is the first of a series and the main focus is ROOT and taking down Danzo. I really adore all of the worldbuilding and backstories going on here in addition to the fact that there are breaks. Yes, the story keeps moving, but there are other things going on, like playdates, and not just Sakura trying to save the world. Also, if you love Shisui then definitely check this out since he has a huge role and his and Sakura's friendship is just so precious.

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cut the head off the snake - itsthechocopuff || ao3 || T || time travel AU || incomplete

when eighteen-year-old, post-war Sakura is thrown back into her tiny, pre-Academy body, she makes a decision. she'd had a childhood once already, and this time, she's more interested in Not Dying when the inevitable shit hits the proverbial fan. so she will work harder, care less, kill more, and smile when she's done.and hey, if she ends up reviving an extinct nature transformation to attract the most corrupt, power-hungry man from her timeline, all the better for her, right?

Such a unique take on a time travel AU and Cut the Head Off the Snake executes it perfectly. Sakura decides that her first order of business is to infiltrate ROOT and that's exactly what she does. Sai, Shin, and Shisui are all great characters and team Ro is present as well. Very good!

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In Another World - eleventheeggo || ao3 || gen || T || orphan Sakura AU || ongoing

What if Sakura was an orphan instead of Naruto and Sasuke?A story about a socially stunted girl who has a thirst for knowledge and is surrounded by softies who love her all the same.

Orphan!Sakura is not something I knew I needed in my life! She is so precious and it's great to watch all of these characters come together for her sake. In Another World also discusses ROOT a bit, which you know I love, so I can't wait for the story to get there.

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Rooted - theRazorofOccam || ffn || T || gen || canon divergence || incomplete

In a universe where Sakura takes a wrong turn, she misses out on the apprenticeship with Tsunade, instead getting recruited by a very different mentor. Life turns out very differently from there on, as she takes the path of a very different kind of ninja. Updates on weekends, unless otherwise stated.

I can't remember too much, but it occurs during the time skip between og and shippuden. At a loss of what to do after her rejection from Tsunade, Sakura decides to join Danzo's program with hopes of becoming a better shinobi.

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parsley seed goes nine times to the devil - Mook_aron || ao3 || M || gen || root AU || one-shot complete

Slow to grow, quick to sprout, parsley seed goes nine times to the devil When she’s six, a man murders her family. The man is tall, and his features are burned into her mind. She won’t forget him- she won’t let herself forget him. Root Sakura au

Sakura is taken into ROOT at a young age and is assigned a mission to infiltrate team 7. Spoilers ig, but Sakura ends up telling Kakashi and what happens from there is sorta open ended. Great story

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I Watched a Change in You - YuffiesNinjaInsanity || ao3 || unrated || narusaku || time travel AU || ongoing

Naruto’s lying across from her, still bleeding out and with his lifeless blue eyes staring at her.

“It’s’kay, Naru.. be joining… you both soon.” She croaks.

Sakura gets sent back in time to a universe where everything is peaceful? She comes from a place where after Danzo's succession to the Hokage title, everyone is ordered to take up ROOT training and so adjusting back to a normal team proves difficult. Tbh, I found this fic kinda frustrating at times, but it's still pretty good.

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Hang Them Up (To Make Them Bleed) - classical_mess || ao3 || T || gen || root AU || one-shot complete

Sakura always used to think a lot of her career as a ninja, but she never thought she'd up here.

Fairly interesting one-shot where Sakura is recruited by Danzo after getting rejected as Tsunade's student. She spends some time in ROOT and Kiba helps her get out. This is on the moments leading up to Danzo's trial. I also quite liked how Tenten was helping out with the seal.

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Sakura - lilac haze || ffn/ao3 || M || minasaku || time travel AU || complete

AU. Non-Canon. Time Travel. Please see inside for full warnings. Cross posted on Ao3. On his deathbed he was granted eternal peace and place to rest for all of time. Of course that was not appealing to him. Ever unpredictable to the end he had a counter offer. One that the Sage had to consider. In which Sakura's going to have a rough time. A really rough time.

I cannot believe that I forgot to add this fic when I initially published my ROOT list!!! Anyway, really good time travel fic with a doomed romance between Minato and Sakura. You watch them, well, Sakura, grow from a young child to an adult and all of the trouble and tragedy that comes her way. Pretty interesting and dark ROOT stuff going on in here.

Check TWs before hand!!

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Anyway, that's all for now!

[callsign-venus]

For the Love of Love | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader | Part II

Part I | Series Masterlist

Summary: You immediately have doubts. As the morning goes on, they only get stronger. Good thing Bradley can be normal about this. Right?

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fake dating, fake dating Bradley Bradshaw in particular, completely implied age gap

a/n: Thank all y'all for the response to the first part :) I was so nervous to post it, but everyone has been so kind and encouraging! Also, I've created a taglist for this series -- please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates! Ok, ok, let's get this show on the road (literally, we're on the way to Tahoe lol), enjoy x

It was 6:15 am. Streetlights washed your walls a bright, sterile white. You paced in front of your door. Next to it, your pink luggage set waited for you dutifully. Bradley was supposed to pick you up 15 minutes ago. He hadn’t responded to any of your texts. Or your calls.

Were you dumb for thinking he really wanted to join you – and your entire family – in Tahoe? Was he drunker than he let on last night, or maybe he forgot entirely? You hoped not, you’d already bought him the seat next to you on the plane. You really didn’t want to explain to your parents why they were paying for two plane seats when only you arrived at the cabin.

You checked your phone. 6:17. Soon, you’d have to drive by yourself. Maybe he’d catch you at the airport.

Just as you made for your keys, there was a sharp knock at your door. You undid the deadbolt and flung it open. Bradley stood in the sickly yellow light of the hallway, looking better than you wanted him to in just gray sweats and a black hoodie.

“Good morning!” He was surprisingly chirpy for how early it was.

“You’re late. Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

“What texts?”

“The texts I sent you?” You grabbed all three pieces of your luggage and struggled through the door frame.

“My phone died.” He was tapping his phone screen like he was just realizing that it wasn’t turning on. He gave up, pocketed the phone, and lifted the two biggest suitcases out of your hands. “Jesus, how long are we going to be gone? It’s like you packed your whole closet.”

“Three days. But I have to be prepared.” You locked up your apartment and started down the stairs, your suitcase clanking down each step. Your neighbors were probably thrilled.

Bradley followed behind you, lifting your other suitcases as if they weighed nothing.

“So you’re just going to travel with a dead phone?” You asked when you finally made it to the lobby.

He shrugged. “Is your phone charged?”

“Of course.”

“Works good enough for me.”

He reached over your head to hold open the front door as you dragged your suitcase into the brisk early morning. His Bronco shone like adventure. You and Bradley loaded your luggage, and he opened the door for you to get into the passenger seat.

“Coffees?” You asked as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.

He glanced down at the twin iced coffees lined up in the cupholders between you. “I thought it'd help us get through the early morning. I didn’t know what you liked though, so I just got you my drink.”

You stabbed a straw through the plastic lid of the coffee and took a sip. It was shockingly sweet. You coughed a little.

“You like it?” Bradley smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’ve perfected my order. Caramel and white mocha and cinnamon sprinkle on top.”

You take another sip. Without the sweetness taking you by surprise, it was much better. “It’s good. I would have pegged you for a hot black coffee guy, though.”

“I’m full of surprises.” He merged on the freeway.

The sound of the road passing under the Bronco filled the silence of the car.

“So…” Bradley tapped his thumb against the Bronco’s wheel, the echoes of some song you didn’t know. “What’s your family like?”

You watched lights flick on in the windows of the buildings you passed. People getting ready for their typical days. You pressed down a shock of panic. This was absurd. But Bradley seemed committed, and if it was going to work, you had to set him up for success. That meant warning him about your family.

“Well, my Grandma Sybil and Grandpa Thomas have been married for sixty years. Obviously.” Nervous laughter bubbled from your lips before you could stop it. “They’re Grandma and Grandpa. I grew up going to their house and stuffing myself on her cookies and falling asleep on his lap. But Grandma Sybil can be… stern.”

He stopped tapping his thumb to snag his coffee and take a sip. “Like, how so?”

“She’s just a little rough around the edges. She had a tough life before meeting my grandfather, and though she softened to him, I don’t think she softened much to the rest of the world. Just, don’t take it personally if she doesn’t warm up to you right away. Or at all.”

“Noted.” You heard him swallow.

You picked at a seam in your pants. “And their oldest daughter is my Aunt Marnie. She’s married to Uncle Jim. They run a crystal shop just outside of Vegas. They might try to push moonstone or onyx on you. Just smile and accept it.”

“Ok. Marnie and Jim. Crystals.” He committed the names to memory.

“Their daughter Sabrine just got married.”

“You went to the wedding, I remember.”

You flushed, grateful that the sun hadn’t quite risen yet and the hotness of your cheeks dissipated in the darkened car. He had remembered. You didn’t think any detail of your life was important enough for him to care to remember – and it really was just one week that you were gone – but maybe your life had bled into the Daggers’ more than you thought.

As the airport came into view, you told him about Sabrine and how she would bring her new husband Matt. She was already seven months pregnant. Grandma Sybil was less than pleased, but Grandpa Thomas either didn’t care or hadn't worked out the math.

“And what do your aunt and uncle think?” Bradley asked.

“I think they’re just happy that she’s happy. They sound excited to be grandparents. But Auntie Marnie did complain that the wedding was tacky.”

Bradley snorted. “Was it?”

“It was sweet,” you said. “It was in his mom’s backyard. The colors were red and black, but it was sweet.”

An airplane roared overhead, glinting in the sun that was just sharpening over the horizon.

Bradley pulled into the airport’s parking garage. He had only packed himself a duffle bag, so he was able to carry all of your luggage plus his own. In exchange, you carried both coffees and locked the Bronco. You slipped Bradley’s keys into his pocket as he instructed, your fingers warming where they grazed the fabric of his sweats.

The airport was fizzing with the whispers of early morning travelers. You rubbed your eyes as you stepped under the fluorescent lights, taking stock of just how many others were yawning and lining up at the baggage counter under those same lights. Why was the airport so busy before 7am?

As if he could read your mind (or maybe he just saw you tense up at the sight of so many people), Bradley said, “It’s ok. We still have time.”

His reassurance drove you to action. You traded his coffee for your bags and shuffled into line for the check in counter. From the standstill line, you watched Bradley as he wandered around the walkway, taking sips of his coffee, staring up at the ceiling, and generally being a 6’1” hazard to the travelers rushing to get to the TSA line. You rolled your suitcases across the green gray carpets the check in counter line eked forward, nearly running into the old man in front of you as you kept your gaze on Bradley. Why was even his boredom endearing?

Just before you got to the front of the line, he stopped and stared up at the ceiling, causing a woman who was looking at her phone to crash into him. You giggled as you watched him apologize, and saw, in real time, as the woman went from indignant to flustered as she realized how hot he was. She tried to strike up a conversation, but he caught your gaze from across the room. Her eyes followed his, and when it hit you, she was quick to disappear into the airport crowd.

Your face grew hot. You mouthed sorry to him as the woman at the counter was calling you forward. You were a little sorry; she was very pretty. But some part of you delighted in being perceived as his girlfriend, even if it was easier to convince a stranger than your family.

“Ma’am, next guest.” The stern voice of the woman at the counter shook you from your thoughts.

Once your bags were checked, you caught up with Bradley. The two of you rounded the corner only to stop short when you saw the enormous security line.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groaned.

“We’ll be fine. It’s only 7:15.” Bradley nudged your shoulder with his. “Plus, it gives us time to get our story straight.”

“Our story?” You asked as you both stepped into line.

“Yeah. Like, how did we meet?”

You didn’t skip a beat. “Nat introduced us.”

“That was quick.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Well, let’s try to stick with reality as much as possible. And my family loves Nat, her stamp of approval will go down great.” You really hoped no one could hear you two. But the steady murmur of overlapping early-morning conversation seemed to drown out your weird topic of conversation.

“Well, how long have we been dating?”

That you had to think about. “Well, it can’t be too short, otherwise it would be weird that I’m bringing you.”

“It’s already weird.” He laughed.

“They don’t need to know that,” you said. “How long do you think we could pass for? 2 months? 6?”

“Aren’t they going to ask why you’ve never talked about me or brought me around?”

“Good point. We’ll say 4, and I’ll just tell them I wanted to be sure before I told them about you.”

“You think we could convince them we’ve been dating for four months?”

You shrugged, but your stomach somersaulted. “We can try.”

“Like this?” He grabbed your hand and laced his fingers between yours.

Your hand tensed. Your stomach did a whole gymnastics routine. You were holding hands with Bradley Bradshaw in the airport. You looked around, sure that any TSA agent in your vicinity could sense your anxiety and pull you for secondary screening.

“Relax.” He patted your hand with his free one. “We’re not going to get far like this.”

You forced your fingers to meld with his. The iced coffee and your nerves were a terrible mix for your empty stomach.

“Better.” He kept hold of your hand as you shuffled up the line. Then he grinned.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“You know those couples in lines at amusement parks?” A lopsided smile brightened his face. “When they’re waiting in line?”

“The ones that are really into PDA?”

“Exactly.” He dropped your hand, slid up behind you, and wrapped his arms across your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. “All we need to do is follow their lead.”

You did everything in your power to stay upright and keep your breathing steady with his chin pressing into your skin. He kept hold of you as the line moved up. You clenched your hands, your nails digging crescents into your palms. There was no way he couldn’t hear your racing heart and your ragged breathing.

“And there’s this move.”

As the line slouched to a stop, he spun you around, still keeping hold of your waist, but now you were face to face. You looked up at him, tried to form a sentence, but found yourself completely dumb. He leaned his forehead against yours. Surely he could feel the warmth of your face, see the confused longing in your eyes. He smiled at you for just a second before he broke away from you and threw his head back laughing, drawing glares from your fellow sleep-deprived travelers.

You were practically mute through the rest of security. Bradley seemed to have fun grabbing your hand, draping an arm around your shoulders, and messing with your hair. You wondered if he knew the effect he was having on you or if he was earnestly trying to practice for your family. Maybe he was just trying to rile you up. 

“You were great.” He patted the top of your head, causing your heart to shrivel a bit. “We’ll have them all wrapped around our fingers.”

You cleared your throat and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Once you were through security, you broke up to scrounge some breakfast. Well, that’s what you let Bradley think anyway. You tried to beat down the butterflies in your stomach as you wove between slow-walking travelers toting huge suitcases and knots of families with waddling toddlers, straight to the bathroom.

The stall offered you just enough privacy to freak out. You felt your face, your waist, flexed your hands right in front of your eyes. It took you months to not freak out about the platonic arm draped around your shoulders, his quick hugs goodbye at the Hard Deck. How on Earth were you going to be normal about this?

He complimented you on a job well done, but in truth, he did all the work. You didn’t reach out for him once in the security line. Would your family even believe you liked him? After that performance, the idea that they could possibly think that you were in love seemed laughable.

The weekend stretched long ahead of you. You were beginning to realize how stupid it was for you to begin such a ruse that you’d have to keep up for three days. You wondered if Bradley would react poorly to being sent home after already getting through security.

You hurriedly texted Nat – who knew very well how you felt about her coworker, almost to the point where she might have purposefully orchestrated your trip. It was a bit of a text wall, detailing the TSA line and your dread about the weekend. If she wasn’t already working, she would probably be asleep for three more hours, so you pocketed your phone after hitting send.

The sound of a flushing toilet reminded you that, yes, you were having a small crisis in a public bathroom. That thought was so sad that you took a deep breath, set your shoulders, and walked out of the stall to face the world.

From a little store, you picked up a berry parfait for breakfast and a bottled orange juice, since the TSA confiscated your half-empty iced coffee.

You found Gate 4. People were falling asleep upright in the airport seats, blankets and pillows abound. It smelled like the Jack in the Box across the way. You found two empty seats by the window and kicked up your feet to reserve one for Bradley.

He found you ten minutes later, carrying a bag stuffed with two bagels – one sausage and egg breakfast sandwich and one cinnamon raisin with strawberry cream cheese, he explained. You nodded as you dropped your feet and scraped the rest of your yogurt out of your cup.

“So your cousin Sabrine is pregnant and your grandma isn’t happy,” he said around a big bite of bagel, egg, and sausage. “What else?”

“Well, my grandparents’ youngest child is Auntie Elaine. She lives in Alaska with her husband. They breed sled dogs.”

Bradley paused right before another bite. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Some of their dogs run the Iditarod, and I think one was part of the winning team a few years back. They have twins a little older than me. Nora and her wife Madison, they’re… really cool. Last I heard, they were climbing K2. And there’s Nora’s twin brother Owen. He has a girlfriend named Addison, which I think is funny. Madison and Addison. The twins don’t think it’s as funny as I do.”

Bradley laughed. The bagel sandwich was gone, and he traded the leftover wad of greasy wrapping paper for the cinnamon raisin bagel. “And what’s the deal with Owen and Addison?”

“They’re pretty chill.” You thought about it for a minute. “Owen used to punch drywall, but he’s calmed down.”

Bradley stared at you, waiting for you to laugh.

The gate agent called you to board before you could explain. Though you didn’t think any explanation would be helpful.

The plane ride was nice and short. You slept through most of the hour and a half. You were mortified to wake up on Bradley’s shoulder as the plane jolted in the harsh turbulence that shrouded the Reno airport. 

You sat bolt upright, fully awake. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He patted your thigh assuredly. “It’s good practice.”

You didn’t have time to freak out at his touch because the plane rocked again. You’d experienced this turbulence countless times, something about the mountains and the desert air made the plane bounce around like a toy in the hands of an overexcited toddler. Still, as the plane jerked down, it planted a pit in your stomach that made your hands clammy.

When the plane dipped again, you clutched the armrest. You didn’t want to look at Bradley, who probably thought your overreaction was silly. He’d experienced g-forces upwards of 8Gs countless times. It was bad enough flying next to Nat, who you knew would never judge you, but next to Bradley, you felt like a little kid scared of the dark.

“Hey,” he gingerly pried your hand off the armrest and held it with a softness you didn’t expect from him, “look at me.”

You tore your eyes away from the flight tracker on the display in front of you, worried you’d see judgment in his dark eyes. But his expression was everything soft.

He smiled when you met his gaze. “We’re going to be fine. Trust me, I’ve flown a plane or two.”

You laughed despite the plane suddenly banking upward.

He squeezed your hand as the plane leveled. “So here’s the deal: you keep looking at me. You can only panic if I start panicking. Deal?”

You nodded. “Deal.”

He held your hand and your eyes until the plane kissed the blessed tarmac. By then, the pit in your stomach had been flooded with a mushy feeling you simply did not have time to drain because the seatbelt sign dinged off, and you had a rental car to secure.

Getting out of the airport went as smoothly as possible. Within 20 minutes of deboarding, you and all your luggage was crammed into a rental Prius. Bradley’s nose crinkled when he first saw it, but he folded himself into the passenger seat without complaint.

You fiddled with the radio until you got it to play a throwback ‘70s station, then peeled out of the airport. Soon, the dusty city of Reno and its casinos were in the rearview, and the Sierra Nevadas loomed large on the horizon. When the road lifted off the desert floor and began winding through the foothills, childhood excitement drummed through your veins. As the car screamed along the highway, desert scrub blurred into pine trees that jutted straight up toward the endless blue sky. Patches of snow bloomed in their shade.

“Wow,” Bradley said as the trees grew thicker like a tightly stitched blanket over the mountains. Snow carpeted the ground. Little cabins shone through the forest and snow like jewels.

“Wait until we get around this mountain.” You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You carefully made a sharp turn, the mountainside steep and unwelcoming. But as the car straightened out, the trees yawned apart, and you caught Bradley gawking at the lake out of the corner of your eye.

Nestled between snow-draped mountains, it shone like a sapphire in the late morning sun.

You’d spent several summers splashing in its frigid waters with your cousins until your skin was so covered in goosebumps that Grandma Sybil threatened to pluck you for Christmas dinner. The same lake was the backdrop to hundreds upon hundreds of ski runs and one trip down the mountain with ski patrol. Your arm still ached to think about that late February day, even all these years later.

“It’s beautiful,” Bradley said, and you agreed wholeheartedly.

Your phone’s navigation system stated that there was only 20 minutes until you reached your grandparent’s cabin. You sucked in a breath between your teeth and cracked a window, hoping the cold, piny air would help settle your stomach. It didn’t. But you still had to finish giving Bradley the family rundown.

“My parents are Sean and Catherine,” you said. “My dad might try to intimidate you, but don’t worry, he’s a softie.”

“Ok.”

You couldn’t be sure he was paying attention, as his face was all but pressed against the window, soaking in the spectacular views. Even if you wanted to be mad, you really couldn’t blame him.

You stepped on the breaks as the road started dipping down a little. “My mom will be the most problematic. I swear sometimes she can read my mind. Whatever we do, it’ll be hard to convince her.”

“We’re going to be there in 18 minutes. Next time, a little more heads up please?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Your grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Just tell her that you take me to Vino in La Jolla and buy me flowers.”

“Is that what your ideal man would do?”

Would it be so bad if you just drove off the road? The steep mountainside looked more inviting by the second.

“Shut up.” You froze your gaze to the winding road. “I have a brother, his name is Tommy.”

“I know,” he said. “I think I’ve met him once – when he was in San Diego for spring break?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” you said. “Well, he and his girlfriend Georgia are high school sweethearts. They’re the perfect couple, and it makes me sick.”

Bradley chuckled. “Noted.”

“So first goal: be believable.”

He laid his hand on your thigh. “Done.”

“Good.” His hand was burning hot. The car swerved ever so slightly as you lost focus on the road for a moment. “Second goal: be a better couple than Tommy and Georgia.”

“Let’s not try to overshoot this. We’ve only been dating for 4 months.”

You laughed in spite of yourself. When you eventually found your real partner, and everyone gathered in Tahoe again for Tommy and Georgia’s wedding, or a wintery ski trip, or whatever comes next for your family, you’ll come clean. You’ll cling to your partner and tell everyone all about your good friend Bradley Bradshaw and how the two of you never really dated. Your grandparents’ anniversary will be a hazy memory, but everyone will remember the tall, good-looking naval aviator and his (totally out of season) Hawaiian shirts and giant mustache. There would be shock, but eventually it would be an inside joke for years to come. You just had to get through this weekend.

Too soon, you were pulling into the cabin’s long, steep driveway. The cabin itself jutted off of the mountainside, its tapered roof giving it a harsh look, though you swore when you were little it just made it look cozy and inviting. Its windows were like glassy eyes following the Prius.

You put the car in park and turned to Bradley.

“Ready?” You asked.

“Ready, babe.”

Before you could fully register the fact that he called you babe, the cabin’s front door slammed open, and your family bursted out to greet you and the mysterious man you’d arrived with.

The knot in your stomach tightened like a noose.

Read Part III here!

Taglist:

@djs8891 @avengersfan25 @cornishkat @julielightwood @makingpeoplelaughsince1995 @abitdemented @darksparklesficrecs @igotmajordaddyissues @cupofchamomileeee @imaginationlover101 @simpfictionalcharacters

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: thisapplepielife! @thisapplepielife has 37 works posted to AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and 24 of them are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @thisapplepielife:

Tuesday's Gone With the Wind

Take the Money and Run

You Oughta Know

Never Not Mine

Let the Boy Be Merry

"They are my favorite Corroded Coffin writer. I found by accident their fic “Tuesday's Gone With the Wind” and loved everything they wrote since!" -- Anonymous

Below the cut, @thisapplepielife answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Steve Harrington. I found myself not connecting with S4 when it premiered, and decided that I probably just needed to rewatch the other three seasons again first, since it'd been a while between seasons. Well, Steve was always my favorite, but I left that re-watch with his voice fully lodged in my brain. So, I had to write something for him, just for myself. That was You Oughta Know. We all knew Eddie identified as a runner, and that just felt like the story to tell. Then somehow, for some unknown reason that I still cannot possibly explain, I decided to actually post it. I still don't know what possessed me to do that, honestly.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love a good second chance fic: A divorced couple that eventually rekindles. A missed first chance that they get to take another crack at, later in life. I also like a good heartbreaker of a fic. I know, I know. Don't get me wrong, I still love happy endings, but I don't require them. Break my heart. Do it.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Slice of life? Is that considered a trope? I know I like to write about things we all deal with in real life, from the small and inconsequential: a mattress with a bad spring. The delight of clean sheets. Or the bigger: the real life heartbreak of unavoidable loss and grief.  And older Steddie is my favorite, I think. I love to spend time writing for them. These boys that turned into men, who made a full life together, and it's great. Maybe not perfect. But they wouldn't trade it for the world. That makes me happiest.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

The One in Which a Time Loop is Fucking Exhausting by badpancake is the one I think of that grabbed me first, and did not let go. I still need to read the final part of the trilogy! My fic TBR is so, so long because I definitely struggle with writing and reading at the same time. I know there is amazing work out there that I've just never read yet. But I look forward to it, absolutely. It's just something I've never figured out how to manage well. Joining Tumblr has helped that immensely, though! Reading the shorter fics here has been wonderful, and I've enjoyed it so much. There are amazing things being posted every single day! And I gotta say that don't start (too late) by Ark is one of the best "first time" fics I've ever read in any fandom. Eddie's inner voice is wonderful. I believe every word he thinks while he experiences this brand new thing with Steve.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

It's not brand new to me, but there's a found family one that I've been tinkering with for a very long time, and that excites me.  And I do love events for tossing me situations or prompts to write for that I may not have thought of, independently. @steddiemicrofic especially has been so, so fun. I think it was the very first event I wrote for on Tumblr, and the challenge of having a very limited amount of words, but still trying to make it feel like a whole story has been told, has been a blast. Thanks to @wynnyfryd and @steddieas-shegoes for challenging us all each month!

What is your writing process like?

I don't outline or anything. I just write, and edit, as I go. And I'll edit obsessively. I'll tweak and change small things over and over, ad nauseam. And even then, I know I still miss mistakes. But my mistakes are my own, I have no beta, because I kind of like being solely responsible for anything I write. Right or wrong. Here it is, take it or leave it. I also talk things through things in my own head a lot, especially dialogue, or I'll open a document, and just see where that takes me. And if I'm writing a long fic, like Tuesday's, I write totally out of order when scenes come to me. I wrote on every single year of that fic all at once. Then kept writing until they'd stitched themselves together into a full story. That's my last part of writing. Putting in the transitions from one scene to the next, when needed.  Sometimes ideas are more fully formed before I start putting words to the page, and other times I literally just start and figure it out as I go. There's one fic I wrote for Steddiemas last year where I sat Steve down at a mall food court and then just started writing. I had no idea what that was going to be. (It was Eddie turning up as the Mall Santa.)  Also: Research, research, research. I love the research aspect of writing. I'm curious in general, and if I can even think to look something up to see if it's true, or of the right time period, I will. And I like to add mixed media to my fics. That was a huge part of Take the Money & Tuesday's. All the newspaper articles and such. I felt like they were needed to make it feel like this really happened to these characters we all love so much. I did newspaper articles all throughout writing Tuesday's. In fact, I think that main article, the one at the top, was written and designed very early on in the writing process. They weren't all done at the end, they were done as the story needed them.

Do you have any writing quirks?

Short paragraphs. I love 'em. You'll pry them from my cold, dead fingers. Also see: Long sentences.  Honestly, I do like to throw out the rules, a bit. I write by feel. How does it sound, to my own ear? If it works, for my character, my fic or just me in general, I'll use it. "Don't use two "ands" in a sentence." Okay, but sometimes I'm gonna when that flows the best. Or: "That's a run-on." Okay, but I like the way it reads. "You don't need a comma there." But, I like the way that it breathes, so it's getting one. All this is especially true if writing from someone's POV. I know I don't always think in proper grammar, and I don't expect them to either. I don't want things to feel hard to read, but I do want them to feel natural. If that makes sense. I walk around, pacing as I write or edit on my phone, as if the moving somehow lets me see it differently. I think it does! And I don't know if this is a quirk, but some of the characterizations formed while writing Tuesday's have stuck, hard. Gareth is Gareth Jones, and where you find him, you'll probably find Di. Freak is Goodie. Jeff is Jeff Williams. These things have been decided in my brain, and now I feel compelled to take them with me, fic-to-fic. I didn't intend to build a headcanon I wouldn't be able to shake, but here we are.  I feel like I can transplant Steve and Eddie anywhere, into anything, and be comfortable changing things up. But the Corroded Coffin boys are cemented, as they were created, for the most part. Maybe that's because I did have to do so much shaping for them. Steve and Eddie, we know. We're all working off a decent amount of canon content. Corroded Coffin only had a few moments on screen to help flesh any of us flesh them out into real characters. And now that I've made my choices, for good or bad, they're here to stay.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Finished, definitely. My three long fics were all mostly written before I started posting, and I still struggled to get the last part of All of Across the Universe out in a timely fashion. Tuesday's was posted over one week, one chapter per day, and I really enjoyed that fast schedule. It didn't give me any extra time to overthink the finished product. It was going out, and that was that. I had to trust that I knew what I was doing when I deemed it finished.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Tuesday's Gone With the Wind. I truly thought I was done after Take the Money and Run. And then this idea slapped me in the face, and I spent five months just lost in their world. These versions of the characters came so naturally, and they are still with me today. I feel like most of what I've written since then is shaped by those versions. Also, that was the last fic I wrote without anything else coming down the pipe. The last one before I joined Tumblr. The last one that had my full, and utter, undivided attention. It's really special to me, and I'm beyond grateful to everyone that has embraced it and recommended it to friends. I know it's got some scary warnings, but for those that have dove in and let me know that it spoke to you in some way, you've made me so happy. It spoke to me, too.

How did you get the idea for Tuesday's Gone With the Wind?

By watching the documentary "If I Leave Here Tomorrow" about the band Lynyrd Skynyrd. As I was watching it, there was an interview section where one of the band members spoke about their assistant road manager, saying: "He was like a bartender roadie. Where he took care of us really good, you know? Anybody who was sick, or needed a little more attention, he was just there for you. He was like the big brother, and sister, and your mama and everything." My brain whispered, Steve Harrington.  And that was that. Corroded Coffin were going to get Road Manager Steve Harrington, and he was gonna take care of them as they headed towards this unavoidable disaster. I wrote like 5k words the first night. It was just in there, waiting to spill out, somehow. And I think it's also an anomaly for me, but I'm fairly certain I started that fic with what turned out to be the opening. That first bit of Eddie's first interview section. I think that's where I started telling the story, and it held throughout. That's pretty rare for me. (Fun fact: I wrote all the interview bits in a separate document, and then just fit and tweaked them into the story, as needed. But not that opening. That was the launch pad into everything else.)

When writing Tuesday's Gone With the Wind, what was something you didn’t expect?

It's not exactly a Steddie answer, but - Gareth! Gareth Jones, my beloved. I wasn't on Tumblr when I wrote Tuesday's or any other social media in a fandom way. I was in my own bubble, doing my own thing. So, I didn't know the fandom had given him a fanon surname. I chose my own, and now he's just Gareth Jones to me, and always will be. He's also Eddie's best friend. I've pondered on more than one occasion on if Take the Money and Run would be different if I knew that first, lol. Just exploring my version of a character that had so little screen time to work off was incredibly fun. And has remained fun. Gareth is definitely gonna show up again in my future works. He's to Eddie, as Robin is to Steve in my head now and forevermore.

What inspired Take the Money and Run?

These lyrics from the song "Me and Paul" by Willie Nelson: Almost busted in Laredo But for reasons that I'd rather not disclose But if you're staying in a motel there and leave Just don't leave nothing in your clothes I had a literal shower thought that made me laugh. And thought, well, why are they even in a motel? Oh, they must be on a road trip. So, I wrote that little scene mainly in my head, but jotted it down, just in case, and assumed that was the end of it. But then I just kept writing it. Until I was knee deep in maps and mileage and research trying to figure this road trip out from a logistics standpoint. All because I thought it'd be funny if Eddie left weed in his pants and Steve got all put upon because of it.

What was your favorite part to write from You Oughta Know?

I loved getting to include all the fun 90s things, since that's when I was a teen, and can remember a lot of it very distinctly, first-hand. And I loved getting to use El's powers to look in on Eddie, so while they might not know where he is, they did know that he seemed to be doing okay out there in the world. Also, if I could go back and change one thing about it, I'd fix that I said Eddie's never had an acoustic guitar. I didn't notice his acoustic in his room until my re-watch. Oh well. This version of Eddie didn't, I guess, lol. (This might be from the second part, Eddie's POV. But still. It's my Roman Empire. I think of this mistake at least once a week and beat myself up. If I'd been on Tumblr at the time, I feel this would have never happened, because someone would have blogged about it, drawing my attention to it, surely.)

How do/did you feel writing Never Not Mine?

This one is heavily inspired by the Taylor Swift song imgonnagetyouback. It was fun to dig into a slightly angstier world for a bit. Because things don't always work out, or if they do, not always the first time around. I like to think they'll find each other again, in any universe, but they might not take the easiest path. They aren't perfect, and that's realistic.

What was the most difficult part of writing Let the Boy Be Merry?

Crying while writing it. This one slapped me around a little while writing. Life isn't always as romantic as fic leads us all to believe which, the audacity, honestly, lol, but the kind of love and relationship in this fic? That feels real to me. Old, and familiar, and even as well as you know a person, you can't read their mind. You don't always get what the other needs immediately, you don't get how important things can be to them, but figuring out how to compromise is love. Real, lasting love.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

This question was hard! I'm gonna pick two from Tuesday's: For the first, I cried while writing and then cried again while editing the scene where Eddie and Steve hash out how serious their relationship is, and realize they've kind of been on different pages. There are two scenes in Tuesday's that got to me, and made me cry while writing them, over and over, and I don't even know why. (The other is Gareth picking that fight with Steve. Yeah, yeah, I know. Neither of these parts are the saddest parts of Tuesday's. But they stripped me raw, for whatever reason.) And a second, more fun, favorite: I'm gonna go with the scene where Eddie's naked and tripping on mushrooms in the backyard while Steve hangs out with him, and Eddie thinks they've written "Tom Sawyer" by Rush. That was so fun, and just a feel good write, if that makes sense. That whole summer they spent at the lake I look back on writing fondly. They are so in love there. They are all happy. And this scene is carefree in a way that they won't always be, due to circumstances coming down the pipe.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I run @corrodedcoffinfest and I've got a whole list of planned pop-up events coming up over the next few months for that. Steddie is absolutely welcome, so if anyone would like a little more Corroded Coffin works in their life, consider coming to join us! I also finally updated my masterlist, so everything I've written for Stranger Things is finally gathered together. There's a lot that's still only on Tumblr and not on Ao3 at this point.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Thanks so much for including me and my works in this! And to the person who nominated me, thank you, thank you! You really made my day. It was fun to think about these fics again, and answer these questions. I've really enjoyed writing for Steddie, and I've also enjoyed making friends in the fandom. Thanks for welcoming me. Thanks for showing my fics love, and commenting or leaving kudos or reblogging. Just, thank you all so much. And I'm sorry if these answers were too long, lol. As a habitual "end notes" kind of writer, that's just the way I roll. 

Thank you to our author, @thisapplepielife, and our anonymous nominator! See more of thisapplepielife's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!