#i blocked out the tag because I wasn’t sure if they wanted me to share that lol

[yourfatherlucifer]

Our Aurora : Chapter 2

Poly!Ot8!Ateez x Afab/Female!Reader

Summary: Attending university with your eight boyfriends wasn’t easy, neither was sharing a mansion with them.

Warnings: MDNI, this mini series includes tons of smut, slight violence, protective ateez, poly relationship, established relationship, mentions of mxm, choking, other smut themes.

bullying and violence for this chapter.

WC: 1.5k

AU: University

Genre: Smut/fluff

Nets: @newworldnet

Tags: @deltamoon666 @watermelon2319 @justconniez @a-teez-4-exo @mingtinysworld @certifiedmoa @kittkat44 @sanhwalvr @spenceatiny18 @vtyb23 @sousydive @haebaragisworld @yourallaround-simp @therealcuppicake @ja3hwa (please make sure I can tag you in your settings)

SERIES MASTERLIST

The morning sun beamed in your eyes, you tried to move away from the direct sunlight but strong arms held you back from moving. When you opened your eyes you saw that it was Mingi holding you.

Right, he fell asleep with you after your bath last night. You turned your head to look at his sleeping face. He was at peace.

He was happier these days, happier than ever. More than he was when he had met you. Mingi was at his lowest then, his heart was aching. His brain was telling him horrible things. He was the epitome of depression and anxiety.

High school was hard, but to him, it was pure hell. Even as a big guy, he was still bullied, he was in pain. He had no one. He had no friends. You’d see him in the halls, he was cute to you. Very cute. Mingi had always worn headphones to block out the other kids.

You never liked your friend group, they were the other rich kids that sort of pulled you with them everywhere just because you were richer. However, they participated in harassing the poor boy. You wanted to stop them but didn’t know what to do.

Until one day, you were trapped in a thunderstorm outside because your ride got caught in the weather. Mingi had been rushing through the storm, clearly crying. He wasn’t watching where he was going and had slipped near you, taking you to the ground with him.

He gasped and scrambled to get off of you, his clothes were sticking to yours because of the rain. You could see the pain in his face, the panic as well. But what you noticed was the black eye. The huge swelling. It angered you. Your so-called friends went too far.

“I’m sorry!” He yelled out over the storm.

You shook your head, “Mingi, please, don’t apologize.”

He froze in his movements, “H..how do you know my name?” He felt the happiness bubbling within him. Someone knew him.

Your ride had finally pulled up, “It doesn’t matter, for now, I’m giving you a ride home,” you crawled from beneath him and pulled him up, which was hard, “Get in, please.”

He stammered over his words but followed you into the backseat, “Thank you..”

-

When you had pulled up to his home, he had realized his family wasn’t home. Typical. They always left him alone, by himself.

“Oh, um..”

You shook your head, “Doesn’t matter, I’ll just take you to my home, my parents are on vacation so I’ll take care of you, okay?”

Mingi’s heart fluttered, however he was terrified. He didn’t know if you were being genuine or if you were gonna trick him.

He sat in silence, fiddling with his ruined headphones, they looked like they were purposely ripped and broken.

“Mingi, did..did they do this to you?” Your eyebrows furrowed in concern. You just knew you’d teach those kids a lesson. They weren’t your friends. How dare they harm someone as sweet as Song Mingi? He never hurt anyone.

His head snapped to face you, “What? No. I-“

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Yeah..they did this. They always do. This is my third pair of headphones this month.” You could see the pure sorrow in his eyes.

Your fingers clenched in anger, “I see.”

When the car pulled into the mansion's front lawn, your driver stepped out of his seat and opened your door for you, “Miss, welcome home. I’ve already let the household staff know about your companion, they have fresh clothes for him.”

“Thank you, Hyunwoo.” You smiled, taking Mingi’s hand to bring him inside. He was so glad his eyes were still puffy from crying, else you would’ve seen his red face.

Never has he had someone care about him so much. He couldn’t help but fall in love. It didn’t help that he already had a crush on you.

Your staff greeted you inside, rushing to help you out of your wet clothes, “Guys, I’ve got it.” You laughed, “Just bring the fresh clothes to my room, I’m gonna get him comfortable.”

You trudged up the stairs, taking the large man with you, “Don’t worry about my staff, my parents like to spoil me too much, they have staff to take care of me when I’m alone. I’m almost 18, you’d think they know I can take care of myself.”

Mingi gave you a small smile, “It’s okay..I may not be used to this, but it’s alright.”

As you pulled him into your room with a smile, “The bathroom is over there, go ahead and get undressed, I’ll bring you fresh clothes. My staff will wash and dry those for you.”

He shyly pulled away from your hand and entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He stood there in confusion. Just how did he get here? With the prettiest girl in his school. He didn’t know she’d be this nice and caring, how could she hang out with such horrible people? He wondered.

You went through your closet and changed into warm pajamas, you’d had to wait to blow dry your hair since Mingi was in the bathroom.

One of your maids knocked on the door and came in, “Here you go, Miss. your companions clothes. Henry was the only one who seemed to have clothes that would possibly fit that boy.” She passed off the clothes to you.

“Thank you. You can go now.” You smiled as she left.

You knocked on the door and Mingi slowly opened the door, peeking his head out, “Thank you.” He took the clothes from you.

You could see a bit of his chest and it looked bad, there were new bruises and healing bruises.

You sighed, they must’ve pushed him over and kicked him. They were gonna pay for this. You didn’t care if Mingi would hate you for taking this into your hands. You just couldn’t stand by while they hurt someone. What if they took it too far and killed him? No, you couldn’t allow it.

He closed the door and put on his new clothes. Just a plain shirt and sweatpants.

“Would you like to stay the night, Mingi? I have several guest rooms if you’d like. I’m sure you don’t want to be alone.” You suggested with a smile from the other side of the door.

Mingi opened the door with a puppy-like smile, he was beginning to feel safe around you.

“Thank you, for everything, Y/N. You’ve been nothing but nice to me and I don’t know how to thank you.” Mingi stared down at his feet.

You stepped up to him, reaching out for his large hand, “It’s okay, there’s no need to thank me. You don’t deserve any of this.

You brought him to your bed and sat down, “Why don’t you get some rest, I’ll go make you something to eat, okay?”

He nodded with a small smile, “Okay.”

-

As days passed, the two of you got closer. He was becoming your one and only friend and you didn’t mind. He managed to avoid his bullies with you around, but one day you weren’t.

You had hurt shouts in the school's courtyard and found a crowd.

Oh no.

You could hear Mingi’s cries for help as no one did anything, they only recorded and laughed.

You were pissed. You threw your bag down and rushed into the crowd. Finding his group of bullies. All you could see was red. Your fist collided with someone’s jaw. This person was kicking Mingi.

“Fuck off of him!” You shouted.

The crowd went silent as your fist repeatedly bashed into the kids face, his nose was bleeding bad but you didn’t care. He hurt Mingi.

“Y/N, please.” Mingi cried out for you, the bullies already leaving his side to take care of you. But you weren’t having it.

You fought them off with everything you had.

Your fists were hurting, they were covered in blood but you didn’t care whose it was.

From that day forward, no one fucked with you or Mingi. The school didn’t even bother doing anything because your parents were their biggest sponsor.

On the day of your graduation, you had asked Mingi out and he was ecstatic. He was becoming a man. He vowed from the day you saved him that he wouldn’t stop at nothing to protect you.

You had kissed him on the stage and flicked everyone off, a final fuck off to the horrible school you two were leaving.

As the memory faded from your brain, you turned to look at the sleeping Mingi.

You were so glad for the day you met him. He called you his princess yet he was yours. He was the true princess.

“Y/N?” He stirred awake.

“Yes, Mingi?”

“I’m hungry, princess.” His stomach grumbled just right after his words and you both laughed.

“Then let’s go get something to eat, I’m sure the others are home and would like to eat as well.” You just knew Wooyoung would want to cook for you, especially since you were sure they all knew what happened with Hongjoong fucking you so hard.

Together, you left to go downstairs, happily and in love.

#our aurora #ateez x reader #ateez smut #hongjoong smut #san x reader #x reader #choi san x reader #seonghwa smut #yeosang smut #mingi x reader #yeosang x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yunho smut #jongho x reader #jongho smut #hongjoong x reader

[vhagarlovebot]

NO ONE HAS TO KNOW. — STEPDAD!AEMOND.

summary: getting stuck in the middle of a storm and having to share a bed with your stepdad was definitely not in your plans.

content warnings: 4k words. 18+, fem!reader, dark content, age gap (aemond is 38 and reader is in her early 20s), stepcest, dubcon, somnophilia, thigh riding, daddy kink, unprotected sex, choking, fingering, praise kink, one bed trope.

note: you can block the tag “★. dark themes!” if you don’t like this kind of content. for those who were asking about this fic, here it is. finally. hope you like it!

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

YOU CHANGE THE RADIO STATION making aemond groan in frustration. 

“your mother wants us there.” he sighs, turning down the volume and giving a quick glance in your direction.

“i had plans.” you try to clean the window with the back of your hand to look outside, but the heavy snow doesn’t let you see anything. “are you sure we should be driving with this weather?”

your mother loves when both of you go to her conferences, she always says you’re her lucky charm, but you really didn’t want to leave the city this weekend. you’re sure your mother would’ve understood but aemond dragged you out of the house before you had time to message her. 

“we’ll have fun.” he simply answers.

“sitting in a room full of people for five hours?” you look at him, raising your eyebrows. aemond glances at you once again and shrugs. 

“you’re right. but we’re already two hours in, we can’t come back now. not with this weather.” he shrugs and you sigh, defeated. 

aemond turns on the ac, humming along to the song currently playing on the radio. “what plans did you have?” he asks after a while. 

“i was planning on… studying?” 

“which translates into going to a party.” he chuckles, but then his whole demeanor changes. “why don’t you trust me?” his question takes you by surprise and aemond is quick to elaborate. “i know that me marrying alys must have been weird for you.”

you giggle, turning your whole body in his direction. “what makes you say that? it is, perhaps, the fact that you’re way younger than my mother?” you don’t mean to sound so defensive but you’ve never approved of your mother’s choices of partners. not because you don’t like them but because most of them have been barely old enough to drink. it was like having younger siblings. you were thankful when she started dating older men—older than you, at least.

“that’s exactly why i want us to be friends.” his smile tells you he’s being honest and, for a second, he looks younger than his age. 

“aemond, that is exactly why we can’t be friends.” you run your hand over your face, exhausted. having this conversation with him wasn’t in the list of things you needed to do. “having you as my stepdad it’s weird enough, just… don’t make it weirder.”

neither of you says anything after that and a part of you feels bad for talking to him like that, but the other one knows you can’t lie to yourself.

hugging yourself, you try to sleep until the trip is over. 

you have the same dream you’ve been having since that fateful night a month ago when you decided to go to the kitchen for some milk, and ended up listening to your mother and aemond having sex.

it wasn't your fault, really, you were just passing by when you heard it. you froze, struggling between keep walking or get back to your room when you saw them through a crack in the door. he was behind her, one of his hands on her hip while the other one tightly grabbed her hair, hips smacking against hers filling the room with obscene sounds. 

you stood there until her moans became louder, his movements became sloppy and you felt your slick dripping down your thighs. 

that night you touched yourself at the thought of your stepdad fucking you for the first time. 

it was hard facing them the next morning. as soon as you saw your mother in the kitchen you felt guilty, dirty. what kind of daughter does what you did? then aemond appeared out of nowhere, startling you by grabbing your hips. you immediately pulled away, his touch making you feel even dirtier. 

that night you humped your pillow thinking about him. you were going to hell anyway. 

“hey,” you hear aemond’s voice and his hand caressing your arm trying to wake you. “we can’t keep driving, the roads are closed.” 

“you have to be kidding.” you groan, rubbing your eyes. there’s a big sing in front of you telling you exactly where you are: a motel. 

“we’ll have to spend the night here.” he looks apologetic and you soften your expression, he is not to blame. “i got us the last room available.”

“great.” you mumble, getting out of the car. “just great.” 

going up the stairs to the room, your heart starts beating faster than normal, only then realizing you’ll have to spend the entire night in the same room. you and aemond. just the two of you. 

you’re one second away from telling him you want to stay in the car when he opens the door revealing something you definitely weren’t expecting. 

your heart drops to the floor when you see one tiny bed—just enough to fit two people—in the middle of the room.

“i’m going to take a quick shower.” aemond says, leaving his backpack at the foot of the bed. 

you change to the only pajama you brought—a silk and very soft sleepwear dress—because you thought you were going to be spending the night in a hotel by yourself. definitely not in the middle of nowhere in a tiny bed with aemond targaryen. 

you immediately climb on the bed, covering your body with the sheets, when you hear him getting out of the bathroom. you peek a little, and see him with just a towel around his hips, drops of water dripping down his toned chest.

you hide under the sheets when he loses the towel, all the blood of your body going to your face and between your legs. 

aemond hops into bed with you, careful not to touch your body with his but failing; you still can feel his silk skin brushing against yours when he gets comfortable at a considerable distance. 

you try to think about a bunch of different things. the cold war. the big pimple your friend had last week. how cold it is. your mother with a disappointed look on her face… 

“do you have to breathe so loud?” aemond complains, turning around until he’s facing your back. you can feel his breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. 

“oh if it bothers you i can just simply stop breathing, is that okay with you?” looking above your shoulder you see how his brows knit into a question as his confusion deepens. 

“what’s wrong with you?” he sounds sad and hurt by your words. and for the second time in the day, you feel really bad. 

“i’m sorry,” you say, closing your eyes. “this is not how i pictured my night and i’m cold. i get bitchy when things don’t go as i want them.” 

aemond moves closer to you and your heart does a backflip inside your chest. he puts one of his big arms around your waist and without any effort moves you closer to him. 

“wh—what are you doing?” you stammer. even swallowing is hard. 

“you said you’re cold,” you don’t see him but you can hear his smirk. “and we don’t want you to catch a cold, do we? besides, i’m trying not to fall from this stupid tiny bed.” 

you don’t say anything. instead, you try to regulate your breathing, once again thinking about the most disgusting things to keep you from thinking about the closeness between aemond and you, and how inappropriate it is. 

after a while of thinking about the gruesome and injustice of the both world wars, you finally give up. 

“i’m sorry.” you say softly. but aemond doesn’t say anything. you don’t know if he’s sleeping or not but if you don’t say it now, you would not say it again. “i didn’t mean to speak to you like that.”

“mmh.” 

“i, uhm, would like that.” 

“like what?” he asks, confused. 

“to be friends.” you shrug, very, very aware of the closeness. “we shouldn’t hate each other.” 

“i don’t hate you. never did.” aemond moves a little bit closer, his chest now in direct contact with your back. “we should get along… for the sake of your mother.” 

you open your eyes, big with surprise and guilt. your mother who’s probably wondering where you are, if you’re safe, meanwhile you’re in bed with her husband. 

“this isn’t right.”

“yeah, this bed is too small.” 

however, neither of you tries to do something. in fact, you move closer. aemond slips his leg between your own, and you part them to give him access while your heart beats so fast you think you’re seconds away from throwing up. 

you try to sleep but aemond’s closeness and arm wrapped tightly around your waist only helps to feed your fantasies. he, however, falls asleep in just a couple of minutes, and you try to ignore his slow, regular breathing on your neck and how that makes you feel, but you are weak. and a terrible person. because you can’t stop picturing aemond turning you around and taking you right there on the bed, calling you a good girl for taking him so well. 

you know the thoughts you have about him are not normal but aemond hasn’t left your mind since the moment one of your best friends introduced him to you. you were mesmerized by his sharp jawline and smart ass, and to say that the long scar across his left eye didn’t make an impression on you is to tell a lie, because it only added to the growing attraction. 

you had time to get to know each other a little bit, in the few occasions you bumped into each other at one of the many parties your best friend was hosting and who, you learned thanks to aemond, was dating jace—his nephew, before your mother came into the picture, and you were forgotten. 

however, that doesn’t mean that the attraction you felt for aemond vanished, you simply ignored the weird feeling when you saw them kissing after he dropped her home one night. 

you don’t know how they met, but you know aemond didn’t know you were her daughter until he visited your home for the very first time and saw you walking down the stairs. he tried to talk to you about it but you never gave him the chance, and eventually he stopped trying. 

maybe it would’ve been easier if you had slept with him, that way he would be out of your mind by now. instead, you keep touching yourself at the thought of him and his grunts as he was fucking your mother, you keep replaying the way his hips were moving and smacking against her ass, you keep picturing yourself giving him that pleasure. 

you try closing your legs but his leg between your own makes you wince at feeling the friction it creates. you slowly move your hips, trying to feel it again, and when your clit makes contact with his thigh you have to bite your tongue to hold your moan. 

you close your eyes, guilt overtaking you. but only for a moment. 

“aemond?” you whisper, looking over your shoulder to make sure he’s sleeping, and when he doesn't answer, you take a deep breath, cursing yourself for what you’re about to do. 

you slide your hand down, spreading your folds and feeling how wet you already are. you bite your lips to muffle the moan threatening to spill from your mouth as you play with your cunt, barely sliding two fingers into your entrance. your other hand follows the same path, circling your clit with your middle finger, images of aemond’s face buried between your legs making you squeeze your eyes shut. 

you try not to move too much but it becomes really hard with every passing minute, and as your desperation grows, so do your gasps and whimpers. 

adrenaline courses through your body, something you’ve felt before—at night when you laid in bed, legs spread wide open touching yourself at the thought of him. but with aemond in the same bed, his warmth emanating from his body to yours, his arm around your waist holding you tightly against his chest… that is what pushes you closer to the edge, what makes you start moving your hips against his thigh seeking for something to give you more pleasure than just your fingers. it’s slow at first, afraid it will wake him up, but aemond seems to be a heavy sleeper because there’s no hair out of place, not even the slightest change in his breathing. 

you roll your hips with more confidence, hands squeezing and pinching your breasts. but it is still not enough; you need him. carefully, you reach down and place a hand over his, moving it to rest on top of your breast. his hand is bigger than your own, and you wonder how would it be to feel his long, slender fingers in your dripping pussy or wrapped around your throat. 

you drag your clit along his thigh, nearing your orgasm with every roll of your hips. you don’t notice you’re moaning aloud, until you feel aemond’s hand pinching your hard nipple, hot breath against your neck. 

you shriek, immediately stopping. embarrassment and humiliation replacing the pleasure you were feeling just moments ago. you don’t move, you don’t talk, you’re not sure if you’re even breathing, too ashamed of yourself. 

“so fucking greedy,” aemond chuckles, pinching your nipple again. “using me to get yourself off while i’m sleeping.” he grinds his hips against your ass, thrusting into you. 

“‘m sorry,” you mumble, a shiver rolling down your neck. your whole body is on fire, a combination of shame and tingling pleasure.

“then do it,” his voice is low, and you can hear the smirk he’s wearing on his lips. aemond grabs your earlobe between his teeth, making you arch your back, a soft gasp spilling from your mouth. “use me just like you were doing before. want to hear those pretty sounds again.” 

you swallow the lump in your throat, still not moving. you can’t. the voice inside your head keeps reminding you how wrong this is, how you shouldn’t have started something you shouldn’t be even thinking about. but your body speaks a different language, and aemond sees right through you. 

“tsk,” aemond runs his tongue down your neck, and a new wave of goosebumps spreads all over your body. “suddenly you’re shy? or is that you like it more when i’m sleeping? hm?”

aemond presses his bulge into the plush of your ass, making you feel just how affected he is. you try so hard to listen to the voice inside your head but you are weak, as you’ve clearly demonstrated, and all it takes to shut that voice off is aemond’s hand sliding down, fingers expertly rubbing over your clit. 

“it seems i’ll have to do all the work.” he nips at the soft skin of your thigh as his other hand makes its way to your neck, wrapping around your throat and squeezing ever so slightly.

“stop, please.” you blink repeatedly, trying to clear the haze from your mind. 

“your mouth says one thing,” aemond spreads your folds, pressing one finger to your soaked cunt, making you squirm against him. “your body says another.” 

your body betrays you while you’re still fighting against what you want and what is right. 

“stop thinking about it.” 

you really want to pull away, but your body screams for him. and you do it.

you start moving your hips, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling of his fingers rubbing your clit as your pussy clenches around nothing. your hands go to your breasts, taking your nipples and pinching, moaning when you feel the wet spot on aemond’s clothed thigh. 

“use me, fuck yourself on my thigh.” he moves his leg up adding pressure to your needing hole. “just like that… good girl.” you throw your head back, giving him access to your neck. he bites and kiss and licks, leaving marks behind. “can’t stop thinking about how perfect this pussy would feel wrapped around my cock.”

aemond pushes one finger inside you slowly and you inhale sharply, one of his fingers feel like two of your own, yet it’s still not enough to alleviate the ache you feel deep within you; so you desperately search for his wrist, digging your nails into his skin, silently asking him to go deeper, faster. 

“what’s that?” he teases you, leaning in just a little closer to whisper directly against your cheek. “use your words, baby.”

“want more, p-please.” you whimper when he inserts a second finger, immediately curling them upward. aemond brushes that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars behind your eyes. but before you could let go, he pulls his fingers out, rolling you onto your back. 

“want me to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore, is that it?” aemond asks you, climbing on top of you and spreading your legs apart. when you don’t answer, he presses his clothed cock against your soaked cunt. “don’t you know it is rude not to answer when someone speaks to you?”

“so-sorry,” you don’t even try to hold back the gasp escaping your lips. 

aemond grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “answer when i speak to you.”

“yes,” you exhale shakily, hips bucking furiously against him. “i want that… yes.”

“nah,” he gazes at you for a moment, then shakes his head. “be a good girl and use your manners.”

“want you to fuck me… please, daddy.” 

aemond growls, pressing his lips against yours. it’s soft at first, both of you still insecure, waiting for the other to change their mind at any second; kissing feels a little too intimate. but when he thrusts into you, dragging the tip of his cock just right over your clit, making you wrap your legs around his waist, every coherent thought goes out the window. 

he breaks the kiss, pulling away enough to get rid of his sweatpants. “you have no idea how much i’ve been thinking about this.”

your heart beats faster at hearing his words. knowing that you’re not the only one with those sinful thoughts makes you feel less anxious, it isn’t better for either of you but you’re already deep into some twisted shit, there is no turning back, so, at least, you can allow yourself to fantasize a little. 

“you knew what you were doing when you decided not to use panties to bed, uh?” aemond looks into your glassy eyes, aligning himself with your entrance, gathering some of your slick before pushing inside, slowly and carefully, giving you time to adjust to him. “went to bed thinking about this.” he pants, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from thrusting into you. 

it hurts, he’s stretching you to the point where you have to hold onto him, nails digging into his back while your mouth hangs open, moans falling from your lips. 

“so big,” you gasp, following his gaze down where your bodies meet. 

“you can take it, baby” he says, hooking your left leg up higher which allows him to slide in some more. “look at you, taking daddy’s cock so well.” 

you feel so filled already, and aemond is barely halfway in. 

aemond leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, warm and soft. his lips slide down until he’s kissing you again, tongue violating your mouth with such desperation and rudeness that your head is spinning trying to focus on two things at once. 

he thrust into you fully, making you cry out. you feel him so deep inside of you, you are sure you can see the outline of his cock in your stomach. 

you squirm beneath him, whimpering and moaning with his tortuous pace, the cold from the silver chain around his neck touching your cheek every time he slides his cock in, a welcome feeling against your hot face.

you can’t think about anything, you don’t remember why you were so anxious about or why you shouldn’t be doing this. there’s no thought in your mind besides how good he’s making you feel or how obscene the words he’s whispering in your ear are.

“tell me,” he grunts, pounding into you so hard you have to bite your lips to stop yourself from screaming. “since when have you been wanting me to fuck you?”

your eyes flutter shut, head thrown back in pleasure. “since-fuck! since the first time—” aemond pulls out, until only half of him is still inside of you, and then sinks back in, making you whimper. “we met.” 

aemond lets out a loud groan, violently slamming his hips, fucking you harder and faster. he holds onto your hip with one hand, balls slapping against your cunt, as his other hand moves down to rub over your clit. 

“you look so pretty like this.” aemond coos, leaning in to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “taking my cock like the good girl you are.”

“daddy,” you don’t even have time to warn him before you’re cumming all over his cock, walls clenching around him and legs shaking so much they fall open by his side.

you are so warm and tight around him, that his dick twitches inside of you as he approaches his own climax. he fucks you through your orgasm until his movements are sloppier and he begins to grunt aloud, face twisted in pleasure. 

then, aemond pulls out, letting out a low moan as he comes all over your stomach, hot and white stripes painting your body. 

he collapses next to you, pulling you in closer. you just stare at each other for a while, not a sound coming out of your mouths, just heavy breathing and panting. 

“you okay, baby?” 

the pet name sends shivers all over your body. “i’m alright.” you shrug, giggling when he looks at you with a frown on his face. “i’m more than okay.” 

“good. because you need a shower.” he says, getting off the bed and taking you in his arms, making you yelp in surprise. 

aemond steals a kiss from you as he walks toward the bathroom, both of you still so high and lost in the moment to worry about what this means. 

when you wake up the next morning, the bed is cold and empty, and you can no longer feel aemond’s arm around your waist. but, at the same time, you still feel him everywhere. 

you smile, fingers pulling your bottom lip down, images of what you did the night before flashing through your mind, but as quickly as they came, the anxious feeling in the pit of your stomach also comes back, erasing the smile on your face. 

you’re fighting hard not to cry when the door opens, revealing aemond carrying two cups of coffee in hands. worry crosses his face when he sees your expression.

“what’s wrong?” he takes two big steps, leaving the cups aside, and sits beside you. aemond places a warm, comforting hand over yours. but you can’t look him in the eyes. “hey,” with his free hand, he cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “we have a long way back home, if you want to talk… we can do that.”

you nod, tears in your eyes as you finally look at him. he has a soft expression, reassuring you that everything it’s okay, even if he doesn’t believe that himself.

tags: @namelesslosers. @teamaemond. @abecerra611. @fleurriee. @vermithorn. @aemonds-fire.

© vhagarlovebot, 2023. — do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

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[cherrychilli]

Slip of the Tongue

A mini series I 18+ I Enemies to lovers

Chapter three

Chapter Summary: Things turn sour in the days after you scramble out of Eddie's trailer, leading to an interesting confrontation at your old alma mater.

Chapter warnings: Oral sex (m)

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It’s been a week since that day in Eddie’s bedroom.

During that time, you hit the books, powered through your shifts, made it to every lecture and finished your midterms, now holding the fruit of your labor in your hands.

You managed to score in the 90’s again, relief filtering into your lungs with deep, calming breaths because it accounted for 25% of your final grade. With your academic progress still intact, you slipped the glowing results sheet into your bag, allowing yourself to think of your neighbor again.

And as weird as it is to say, you do feel strangely grateful for his contribution.

You’d awoken the day after bolting out of Eddie’s place with your head already crowded with thoughts of him but admittedly, having slept better than you had in a long time. He’d talked a big game and he delivered – the encounter having unwound you enough to get back to work with renewed focus.

So yes, you were grateful but also, you were furious.

Seven whole days had passed by and you hadn’t seen Eddie once.

You tried not to read into the fact that for that entire week, you didn’t hear him play his guitar once. Tried not to let your chest cave in when you didn’t catch him outside working on that tetanus trap on wheels he called a van when you took off for work. Tried not to grit your teeth when you didn’t run into him even when you returned home. Every trace of him gone.

It wasn’t that you wanted to see him exactly, but you couldn’t ignore how his absence made you feel – like a mistake he was trying to run away from.

On day four, the day after your exams, you’d even gone so far as to try wheedling some answers out of Wayne when you passed by the older man on your way to work, attempting to be as inconspicuous about it as possible.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to share a few polite words with Wayne whenever you ran into him but it was out of the ordinary for you to bring up his nephew in any other context that didn’t have to do with a noise complaint.

Segueing into it as gracefully as you could manage, you tried to make it sound as offhand as possible, like a casual observation rather than the heavily rehearsed thing that had consumed your mind all day.

“It’s been pretty quiet in the park lately. He sick or something?”, you asked him while toing at some nearby gravel like your own interest in the question was waning.

You refused to say Eddie’s name, afraid that just by mentioning it, it might put a crack in the eggshell thin mask that holds your hurricane of emotions at bay.

As you had expected, Wayne regards you with some surprise – catching his nearly imperceptible squint, his craggy brow crinkling too. It was both unavoidable and understandable. You would have reacted the same way if you were him.

The weight of his second long silence borders on excruciation, something almost surgical about the way he assesses you. Dissecting you is what it really felt like but thankfully, he shows you mercy.

“Says he’s got things to do at school – doubt there’s any studying involved though”, he lets out a huff, a dry, almost laugh that conveyed his long suffering history with his nephew’s unbeaten record for flunking.

Eddie willingly spending more time at school? The same boy who once climbed down out of a second story window, slipped and hauled ass on a sprained ankle just to get out of taking a math test?

So he was avoiding you.

Despite the bitter taste clawing at the back of your throat, you mustered up a laugh of your own and hoped it was convincing enough, waving goodbye to Wayne as you parted ways.

For those seven days you blocked out the thought of Eddie as best you could but now that your exams were no longer a concern, you were finally free to confront the spineless louse.

If he thought he was going to be safe holed up at your old alma mater he was dead fucking wrong.

Treading fire onto campus, you marched through waves of highschoolers, making a steady beeline for the drama room, remembering that was where he held those weird meetings with his weirdo friends in their weird matching t-shirts.

The teenagers hastily parted off to the side in an effort to get out of your way, some of the seniors who recognized you beginning to whisper, speculating as to what brought you back and looking so incensed.

Stomping up to the room, you let loose all that had been simmering inside you – all that frustration from being evaded and those acrid feelings that felt too close to rejection, parting the doors open forcefully with both hands. It makes for your desired entrance when they swing back and bang closed behind you like a thunderclap, startling the boy who’d been busy scribbling in his notebook getting ready for his next campaign.

His pen clattered to the floor from where it flew out his hand and bounced off a nearby theater prop. You can’t be sure given how abrupt it was but you think he might have yelped too, a high pitched eep like some sort of puppy who had its tail stepped on by mistake.

Sitting askew on his carved wooden throne, Eddie’s cast in warm hues of orange and yellow underneath stage lights and candlelight but nothing shines brighter than the sheer surprise overwhelming his face. It pleases you more to recognize the unmistakable tinge of fear he’s incapable of hiding behind his wide eyes when they land on you.

Good. He should be scared, your mood far from friendly as you turn to lock the door behind you and retrieve the key, clutching it tight in your palm.

Was this overkill? locking him inside with you? You didn’t think so. Not after he’d weaseled his way out of talking to you for an entire week. You weren’t about to leave room for him to plan an escape route too.

You stepped closer to where he cowered at the D&D table, your lips pulled into an imitation smile, curved up exactly like one but so clearly absent of any sweetness or warmth, only radiating danger.

To Eddie, your menacing saunter resembled a cobra leisurely winding its way up to cornered prey, jaw seconds away from unhinging to swallow him whole.

He flinches when you slap down your results sheet on the table, now crumpled from how you had it clenched in your fist on your way over here. Better the paper than his neck you supposed although truthfully, you were still on the fence about that.

“Uh, what’s this?”, he finally dares to speak, a nervous croak of a sound that scratched its way out of his throat, cautiously leaning closer to examine the paper. The spiteful devil perched on your left shoulder chittered and sneered, whispering all sorts of encouragement to make you reply with spite, to make some underhanded remark about how you’re not surprised he couldn’t recognize anything that didn’t have a row of F’s stamped all over it given it’s his second time repeating senior year.

But the lenient angel on your right shoulder leaned in and spoke reason into your other ear, dulcet but insistent reminders that you only came here to inquire, not injure.

The devil withers away with a snarl when you clench your jaw, holding your tongue at bay, unable to spit that kind of venom at Eddie.

Before now, your main gripe with him was his disruptive influence, the way he wedged himself into your life like a splinter caught underneath your fingernail with his head rattling music and blood boiling snark. Grinning like his biggest pleasure in life was annoying you enough to darken his bedroom window day after day with a face full of fury and a mouthful of fuck you’s. He was too carefree for your liking as well, able to shrug off his plummeting grades when a minor slip of yours would have you digging out your emergency pack of cigarettes to chain smoke the stress away in secret. But taking shots at his intellect like all the other assholes you went to school with felt too…slimy.

The same assholes who had looked down on you and your trailer park background. The same assholes who rolled their eyes when you got accepted to your College of choice. The same assholes who cackled when you had to enroll in a nearby Community College instead when your family’s finances fell in the red.

Maybe you weren’t a cobra after all, only masquerading as one.

“My midterms. I passed”, you answered him flatly, watching recollection flash across his face.

The stress it had caused you was the reason why this all started in the first place after all.

 “Couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t helped me out”, you added pointedly, tone almost accusatory.

Even under the vivid stage lights that paint his complexion like a sunset, you can still make out the way his cheeks pink up at the vague mention of what had happened in his bed that day.

“Oh, uh– that’s great”, he offered you something that resembled a smile, face so twisted with nerves that he couldn’t get his lips to curve up the right way. Jesus, you’d never seem him like this before. He was barely recognizable and for the first time in your life, you found yourself preferring his usual tornado presence and boisterous anti charm.

“Yeah. So, why’ve you been avoiding me?”

His jaw tensed at that, throat bobbing as he swallowed. Obviously, you hadn’t come by to say thank you.

“Listen, the club will be here in an hour. They already know I’m in here so just give me the key and…we’ll talk about this later, okay?”, he attempted to negotiate with you in the same way one might try to approach a skittish horse, overly cautious with an undertone of fear, holding out a shaky palm to collect the key but you weren’t about to give in now.

“What, so you can find somewhere new to hide?”, you sneered.

To show him you’re serious about seeing this conversation to the end you make a show of dangling the key to the drama room in front of his face – his only hope of escape, but it’s what you’re doing with your other hand that gathers his attention.

Hooking a finger into the neckline of your t-shirt, you pull it low enough for your cleavage to show, soft swells sitting high on your chest, framed by pretty lace. And despite the dread trickling down Eddie’s spine, thick like tar, one thing becomes abundantly clear in that moment.

He’s only a man.

The little flash of tit is enough to trigger his hormones. Stupefied, he takes in an eyeful, committing the contours of your breasts to memory – the newest entry into the sordid vault of his spank bank before he’s able to snap out of it. He attempts to snatch the key from you but he’s too slow, stomach cartwheeling as he watches it disappear into your cleavage when you tuck it away for safe keeping in your bra cup. Honestly, he can’t decide if he’s more upset about it or turned on.

Face twisting with exasperation, he locks his eyes back on yours.

“You’re being ridiculous!” he accuses with increasingly reddening cheeks.

Unbothered by the claim, you shove a couple of dice and a few of his notes aside to sit yourself on the edge of the table, arms crossed underneath your breasts, showing your defiance.

This isn’t like when he’d gotten you to beg for your release, chipping away at your resolve with his touch and tongue until you crumbled under the weight of ecstasy. You’ve molded yourself into an imposing shadow of the girl who came undone on his sheets, obstinate and immovable and it’s clear that you’ll sooner wear him down for an answer even if it means being stuck here in this room all night than leave without one.

Eddie’s hardened expression falters as he realizes this, sighing. Relenting.

“Fine”, he slumps back in his chair.

“I didn’t mean to…I didn’t know what to say– “

“Bullshit”, you cut him off with an icy scoff. Eddie Munson at a loss for words? Sure. And Steve Harrington’s a bald virgin.

“It’s not bullshit”, he attempts to deny, some heat behind his words.

“Do I need to remind you that you’re the one who offered to help me “relax” in the first place?” you bit back with heat to match.

Your rebuttal has him silent – both of you knowing he can’t argue otherwise.

“Where’d all that bravado go, Munson?” you poke again just to see the vein at his temple bulge but he doesn’t answer, jaw set firm.

You’d hoped to scare it out of him at first or even force it out of him by locking him in here but for once that metalhead menace is tightlipped and damn good at it.

Taking another moment to consider your options you gird yourself to ask the one question you’ve been dreading. Casting your eyes down, arms tightening under your breasts, the key shifts into an awkward angle, jabbing your soft flesh but it’s not nearly as unpleasant as what you have to say next. You weren’t sure if you wanted to hear the answer but you force it out, tongue turning more sour the longer the question sat there unasked.

“Do you regret it?”

It’s the way your tone loses all of its heat, crumbling slightly at the end of your question that makes him feel like the world’s biggest jackass. Another awful second of silence passes before you’re startled by him shooting out of his seat, chair screeching noisily against the floor as its forced back so quickly, his hand reaching for yours but he stops short of your fingers touching.

This close, you can smell him again. That same scent that clung to his bed. That same scent that hung on your hair. The same scent you reluctantly washed away in the shower that night you got back home. It makes you feel woozy, like a cloud full of pheromones to the face. If he takes one more step, you’re afraid you might leap up and bite his chest through his shirt like an animal in heat.

“I don’t regret it”, he answers you, gentle. Honest.

And just like that, all the anxiety you’d carried around for a week unravels with those four words. In its place, relief strummed on your ribs like nimble fingers plucking strings on a harp, a hopeful tune building up to a crescendo inside your chest. But you don’t let it show – forcing an impending smile away, keeping your expression unreadable because you liked the way he looked back at you, sweating with uncertainty.

“Okay – then you wouldn’t mind me returning the favor, would you?”, you rose up from the table, placing a palm in the middle of his chest.

“Huh?” he stumbles back, the back of his knee connecting with his chair.

“Fair’s fair right?”

With a little effort, you push him back into his seat, dropping down to kneel between his legs when they spread for you.

“Shit shit wait- really?”, he sputters as your fingers climb up to his belt, working open that damn handcuff buckle you’d become curious about to the point of near infatuation in the last few days.

You roll your eyes in reply like his question is a nuisance to you, growing excited under the surface.

Popping open the button on his jeans and pulling down his zipper, you can see that he’s already half hard underneath his boxers, a thick outline of his cock growing more prominent.

He’s warm in your hand when you pull his jeans and boxers down to grasp him, watching it spring up, feeling him grow harder by the second. Your fingers are dwarfed by the size of him although you already expected that after what you had seen in his trailer.

Eddie tenses when you bring your face closer, lips parted, breath puffing against his flushed, throbbing tip. Just a little more and-

“But before I do, you’re going to tell me why you avoided me”

He blinks back at your wicked smile and sharp eyes, plummeting.

“You’re fucking evil, you know that? First you hold me hostage and now you’re going to interrogate me with your fist around my dick?”

You grin back, squeezing him mostly gently, the warmth of your hand alone enough to make him feel compliant.

“Do it or I’ll stop”, you threaten sweetly.

Somehow, he likes the sound of that even less than the fear of you doing something like snapping it clean off.

There’s something so perversely satisfying about getting to use his words against him – withholding his release in the same way he had done with you. Being on the other side of it, you now understand why he enjoyed it so much, the potent thrill of being in control.

“Fuck okay”, he lets his head fall back to thud against the back of his throne, the column of his neck stretched and bared for you to see the way his Adams apple bobs in his throat with a thick swallow.

“I thought about you all the time…” he starts, tipping his chin down to look at you again, eyes dark and shadowy from this angle. “Shit, I couldn’t sleep after what happened in my bed – had to get away because I knew if I saw you again, I’d just drag you back there”

Something about the image of him manhandling you, maybe even hauling you over his shoulder, all overcome with unbridled cave man lust for you as he takes you back to his bed brews excitement in your bones. You only hoped it didn’t show on your face.

“And I knew that- well, I thought, because you didn’t actually say, but all you wanted was a one time thing…right?”, he asks, a hint of disappointment in his tone.

That was your intention when you first climbed into his bedroom, yes. But now…

“You seemed to hold back just fine when I came in here”, you skirt around the question in favor of focusing on what he’d said before that, starting to stroke him slowly as a small reward for his honesty.

“You scared the fuck out of me”, his breath grows shorter now that you’re moving your hand. “And we’re in school – didn’t think you’d actually come down here. You liked this place less than I did”

That’s true, you did. You just didn’t expect him to have noticed, let alone have remembered that fact. Guess all that ganja didn’t total his memory completely.

“Well, I couldn’t just let this go on after everything that happened”, you state plainly, twisting your wrist slightly around his base before pulling back up to trace his tip with your thumb.

This time he doesn’t shy away from the vague mention. You can almost see the memory reflecting off his umber eyes as it replays in his mind.

“Didn’t even want to throw my sheets in the laundry”, he admits, a throaty timbre to his tone that makes you stroke him faster.

“That’s gross, Eddie”, you deride, nose wrinkling but he can see right through it. He recognizes it easily – the same forced disgust you’d showed him when he flicked his tongue at you and offered to get you off, trying to hide how much you liked it.

“Could still smell you on them even after they were washed you know – even though I knew they were clean. Like one of those subconscious things or whatever. Every time I thought of you, I felt like I could still taste you on my tongue”

He’s clearly done holding back, no longer the shrinking Dungeon Master you’d stormed in on not too long ago. This is the Eddie you knew well and knowing the thought of you had affected him to the point that it impacted his senses, haunting him even, makes you rush with pride.

“I never got to taste you”, you suddenly recalled, surprised you’d forgotten even for a moment considering how much thought you’d given it in the few days prior.

And with that you leaned forward, lips parting, tongue seeking his cock, licking from the bottom of his veiny shaft up to the head.

The slow, wet drag of your tongue along his sensitive skin is the kind of sensation that will not leave him quietly, groaning around all kinds of expletives as his palms clamped down on the armrests of his chair, knuckles turning white.

Taking the first few inches into your mouth, you wrapped your lips around him and sucked slowly. Swirling your tongue around the leaking tip, you get a proper taste of him, collecting a dribble of precum before pulling off. The texture of it is silky on your tongue as you sucked the mix of tangy and salty sweet onto the roof of your mouth, letting it slide down the back of your throat like honey and swallowed.

“What else did you think about?”, you asked, missing the sound of his voice as you moved to lick along his shaft again, tongue feeling around the veins adorning it.

How he’s able to keep up a conversation when you’ve got your mouth on him like this he doesn’t know. Maybe it’s the fear that you might threaten to stop again. Maybe it’s the way your eyes look up at him all cloudy with need and your thighs clench together when he talks about the thoughts he’s had about you.

“Everything we didn’t get to do that day. I know we only agreed on helping you out but after watching you tidal wave my bed I couldn’t help myself”

The crass description nearly makes you snort against his dick despite yourself; your whole face going supernova with a mix of amusement and embarrassment. It makes Eddie grin.

“I thought about this a lot. I couldn’t believe it but I knew – you wanted me in your mouth back then too, didn’t you?”

Imparting a little honesty of your own, you answer him with a whisper, licking off another clear bead of precum from his slit. “I did”.

Eddie's eyes lit up, lips turning up into a smirk. “Watching you leave after that was torture, you have no idea. You’ve ran that smart little mouth of yours at me for years – hated missing my chance to shut you up for once”

That earns him a deadpanned look and calls for a warning.

You bring a hand down to squeeze his balls and smirked when he groaned, this time nearing on pained, hands releasing the armrests with his palms held up in surrender.

“Okay okay! Easy. You’re a soft spoken delight, alright?”

With a pleased chuckle bubbling up your throat, you relinquish your hold to massage them gently instead, rolling them in your palm, continuing to stroke him with your other hand.

“Did you think about fucking me?”

“Yeah…”, he answers at the end of a thick gulp.

“How?”

“Huh?”

“How would you fuck me, Eddie? rough?”

He considers it before answering. “Not at first…but yeah, I’d – fuck, do that again? – I don’t think I could be gentle for very long because I know you can take it”

It’s like he’s reached inside of you and flipped a switch you hadn’t even been aware was there. You’d been wound so tight for so long. You needed him to use you.

“Could you be rough with me now?”, you asked, triggering a sly quirk of his eyebrow.

“You asking me to fuck your face, sweetheart?”

There’s that cocky edge again and you're quick to spar with it.

“Yes or no, Munson?”, you return, all stony faced. There won’t be any begging from you today.

He frowns when you pull out his last name again.

“Aren’t we beyond that now?”

You grin back, too stubborn for your own good.

“No”

Eddie's frown fades, a grin stretching across his face to match your own.

“Open your damn mouth”

Ringed fingers weave into your hair as you part your lips for him, allowing him to breach the wet velvet of your mouth. His girth puts some strain on your jaw but you’re able to accommodate him, tongue cradling the underside of his cock as it glides over the muscle. You’re doing well so far, letting the hand on your head, firm but gentle, guide you down until the tip of his cock bumps the back of your throat and you gag.

“Go on – choke a little for me”, he grunts.

Tears wet your eyes as you try to breathe through it, throat squeezing back against the intrusion, saliva pooling in your mouth as it begins to drip past your lips.

Eddie starts to thrust into your mouth and you take him as far into your throat as you can manage. Your nails dig into his thighs through the short, ragged pumps, past even what you thought to be your limit when your nose presses close to his pelvis, brushing the thatch of hair at his base. You find that you like how he smells there too – musky and masculine.

The sounds you pull out of him make your core ache – every hitch of his breath, every choked off moan, every rumbling groan and throaty grunt. But you stamp down the hot roiling in your belly and ignore the sticky need pooling in your panties because you really did mean what you said about returning the favor. It was your turn to please him, sidelining your own pleasure for the time being in the same way that he had done for you. Not that there wasn’t any pleasure to be derived from being in your position.

The part of you that was greedy savored every sound and liked knowing you were making him feel good – that all those noises he was making was because of you. And the part of you that was competitive took pleasure in knowing you were proving he wasn’t the only one here with a skillful mouth.

Growing more and more used to it, you take it well as he fucks your throat and he tells you as much.

“Knew I was right about you. Knew you could take it – Christ, yes, just like that”

The praise makes you bob ardently, saliva soaking his cock, trailing down to his balls. You’ve adopted a pace of your own now, Eddie’s fingers still tangled in your hair but no longer guiding you.

"Shit– I’m gonna cum. where do you– "

You pull off his cock, his eyes trained on your wet, swollen lips gasping for air, your hand taking over to pump his spit-soaked length.

“Do it in my mouth”, you finish for him, desperation staining your tone.

You take him in your mouth again, not all the way this time, using your hand to stroke what you can’t fit past your sore lips anymore.

“Fuck – oh g- fuck”

Eddie’s hips jerk and then it happens – you feel the hot lines of his release begin to spurt onto your tongue, tangy and creamy thick. You swallow it down with his dick still in your mouth, throat contracting around his twitching, spent length. You pull off slowly until it’s just his tip your lips are wrapped around, lingering on it, sucking it like you don’t want to let go. You’re forced to let it slip from your mouth when his groans near pained again, sensitivity proving too much for him now.

Sitting back on your haunches, you watch his chest puff up and down while he recovers, head thrown back against the back of his chair.

When he’s able to, he puts his softening cock away, redoing his jeans before he pulls out a bandana from his back pocket and offers it to you.

“It’s clean I promise”.

The sweetness of the gesture makes your stomach flutter. Managing a meek ‘thank you’, you use the dark material adorned with bones and skulls to wipe your lips and chin of the sticky mixture of saliva and Eddie’s spend.

Next, he offers you a hand and you take it, letting him help you off your knees and on to your feet.

“Listen, I’m sorry for last time. When you had to leave, I mean. And for avoiding you after that”, he informs you, much more tender than you're used to with him.

“I didn’t even get to uh…”, patiently, you wait for him to finish but he doesn’t, watching his face twist, all conflicted. You can see the thought ping pong around inside his head, wishing you could just reach in and pluck it out for yourself but he brushes it off before he’s able to share it with you, leaving you wondering.

“Never mind. Jeff and Gareth are going to be here soon and you probably don’t want to be seen in here with me like um, thisss”, he drags out the single syllable, unsure of a more tactful way to phrase it.

You don’t need to ask him to know that “thisss” means you look like a fucked-out mess because that’s exactly how you feel with your unruly hair and your sore jaw.

Just as before, there’s too much that’s been left unsaid but the threat of another close call has you reluctantly fishing the key out of your bra, tossing it at Eddie while you attempt to tame your hair back into something presentable, wiping off your damp cheeks too. You’re yet to realize that you haven’t returned his bandana, still clutching it in your hand.

Eddie catches the key though he doesn’t make a move towards the door, staring down at his palm like he’d just been gifted a bar of gold.

“It’s warm”, he says quietly, one of those thoughts that wasn’t meant to be said out loud but slipped past the barrier of his lips quicker than he could notice, you surmised.

It’s kind of cute actually – that dopey, spellbound look spilling over his face.

“Unlock the door, Eddie”, you sigh, subduing a laugh. At least you didn’t accuse him of being gross again like you would have an hour ago.

“Oh, right”

He steps over to the door while you gather yourself, daylight shining into the dingily lit room when he unlocks it and pulls it open.

After a quick look around outside to make sure no one sees you leaving, he steps back and holds the door open for you but you linger.

…all you wanted was a one-time thing…right?

No. Not anymore.

You weren’t sure what the two of you were now. Neighbors who got each other off? Former enemies but not really friends with benefits?

The specifics didn’t matter. At least, not right now. All you knew was that you didn’t want whatever this was to end.

Turning to Eddie, you say something you never thought you would. Not to him.

“My family’s gone for the weekend. You can come over tonight…if you want”

The smile that crosses his face is both warm and cocky, much like the one he’d flashed you from his window when this all began.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah”, you soften but only slightly. Unsmiling but not inimical.

“Oh, and if you stand me up?”, voice heating up, you jabbed a finger against his chest, right between the L and the F of his Hellfire shirt. “Try to run away again?”, you jab again and he staggers a step back, wincing when you press over the same sore spot again. “I’ll nail your balls to your front door, understand?”

For a moment he stares back at you. Stunned. And then, true to the freak riddle that he is, he smiles back even brighter.

-

Tag list - @honey-flustered @cryingglightningg @cadence73 @taccobelle @mrsjellymunson

#eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader

[steddieas-shegoes]

deep penetration up the field

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'sports au' rated e wc: 992 tags: secret relationship, football player steve, musician eddie, dirty talk, phone sex (in the loosest sense of the term), masturbation

first, a huge shout out to @thefreakandthehair for basically coming up with the commentator's lines at the beginning of this drabble. and for encouraging me when it comes to a sport that isn't hockey. hope this is a very tasty meal for you 💖

and a thank you to the love of my life in another life @wormdebut, who may or may not have written a part two to this already because neither of us were satisfied with the level of tendernasty kinky shit they got up to here.

“Why are you watching the game? We are anti-football in this home,” Eddie crossed his arms over his chest as he took in what Gareth and Jeff had put on the tv.

“As if you don’t have the world’s most embarrassing crush on Harrington,” Gareth snorted.

“I don’t, actually,” Eddie said, distracted as he watched the man himself on the screen.

“Those tight ends, especially Harrington, they’re skilled at finding the holes and getting that deep penetration up the field,” an announcer said.

“Exactly, Mark. You need a tight end that can play both ways confidently, that’s what sets this team apart,” another announcer said.

Eddie barely bit back a laugh as they focused in on Steve’s face before the snap.

Eddie could just barely see the edge of a hickey on his neck and felt his heart stop.

“Looks like Harrington has no trouble finding willing women,” Jeff nudged Eddie as he left the room to get another beer from the fridge.

He secretly liked football, and probably worshiped the ground Steve walked on as he was most of the reason the Colts had been having an undefeated season so far.

Gareth, however, couldn’t stand any event with a ball, and would judge the hell out of Jeff if he found out he was watching for any other reason than to make fun.

Eddie watched as Steve got a touchdown, something he’d been doing in almost every game this season, doing his stupid dance in the end zone. 

Eddie hid a fond smile when he pretended to play air guitar and pointed at the camera that was focused in on him.

He could feel the heat on his face, knew he needed to get out of the room, but just as he turned to go, Jeff came back in and saw him.

“Are you getting sick, Ed?” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“Nope. Just gonna go finish packing!”

He rushed to his bedroom, closing the door and sliding down until he was sitting on the floor with his head against his knees.

They talked about telling the guys when they meet up in Chicago in two weeks. The Colts play the Bears and Eddie plays The Riviera.

But the more Eddie thought about what that would mean, that it would make it real, the more he wanted to wait.

Not because he wasn’t sure about Steve. Never because he wasn’t head over heels in love with him.

Because Steve came out of nowhere, a stereotypical jock in every way on the surface, an overwhelmingly adoring and adorable sweetheart the moment he was alone with Eddie. It was easy to fall in love with him.

And it happened fast.

One moment they were making it out backstage in a closet, the next Steve was whispering how much he loved him in their shared hotel bed the night before pre-season started.

Now, they secretly met up when they could until they could figure out how to tell the people that mattered.

Eddie would have to be more careful about the hickeys he left, though.

He managed to pick himself up and actually work on packing for Corroded Coffin’s Midwest tour, but couldn’t help smiling to himself when he heard Jeff yelling excitedly about Steve managing to block three guys for his team to get another touchdown.

When his cell phone rang an hour later, he rushed to pick it up, already knowing who it would be before checking the screen.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he sat on the edge of his bed as he spoke.

“Hey, baby. Doing okay?” Steve’s voice was still slightly out of breath, like he’d just ran off the field and called Eddie before anything else.

“I’m good. Are you?”

“Great. We won. I think if we keep it up, we’ll be favored to make the Super Bowl.”

Eddie’s brows raised.

He didn’t really like football, but everyone knew how big of a deal the Super Bowl was. 

“That’s great, Stevie. You heading back to the hotel now or going out with the guys?” 

“I’m hiding in the bathroom, we just got off the field. Think I’m gonna head to the hotel, though. Don’t really feel like going out.”

Eddie smiled to himself.

“Call me when you get settled?”

“Just to hear my voice or for other reasons?” 

Eddie could hear the smirk in Steve’s voice, felt himself start to smirk at the thought of what they could do on the phone later.

“You know I love hearing your voice, but I also love hearing you whine and beg,” Eddie’s voice dropped lower, more of a growl.

“Eddie.”

Steve sounded breathless, almost like when he…

“Are you touching yourself? In uniform?” He told Eddie he didn’t like to risk messing up the uniform, it was sacred, blah blah blah. But Eddie knew exactly where his hand was right now.

“Mhm,” Steve whimpered.

“Jesus Christ, Stevie. Can’t even wait until you get to the hotel? What if someone walks in?” Eddie knew what would happen if he kept talking like this, especially when he could hear the faint movements of Steve’s hand working his cock.

“Don’t care. Need you,” Steve gasped out, ending his words on a groan.

Eddie was hard, but refused to touch himself now, knew he’d be miserable if Steve had to suddenly stop and he didn’t get off.

“What do you think I’d do? You think I’d get on my knees in the locker room, suck you off in front of everyone?” Eddie shook his head when he heard Steve’s breath catch, slick noises getting louder. “Or would you wanna wait until everyone leaves so no one sees you begging to suck me off before I’ve even gotten your cum down my throat?” 

“Please,” Steve begged.

Eddie smirked.

“Go ahead, sweet boy. Make a mess.”

Steve bit back a loud moan as he came, panting into the phone as Eddie talked him through it.

“Later?” Steve asked.

“You’re insatiable.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #sports au

[random0lover]

Hello !! Am I allowed to request for maybe all of 141 (If possible with your schedule !! I undestand if its not !!) or just Price and Ghost (separate) with a reader whos a military kid so theyre kinda just used to them going away for long periods of time with deployment. Bonus points if they werent aware of reader being a military kid till they break down and confess as to how abandoned and angry they feel when they leave :,)) Fluffy Hurt/Comfort thats SFW, please :)) Thank you ^^

TF141 x Gn!Reader That Was a Military Kid

Pairings: John Price x gn!reader & Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst with Comfort, SFW, reader is mean, talk of parental death, crying, reader is called: sweetheart, love, dove. Hints at depression, John and Simon are both big softies for reader, established relationships. That should be it! Let me know if I missed any <3

Things to know: Some hc’s with mini fic parts. Should be Gn!reader as I tried to avoid talking about readers body or anything that could indicate anything other than gn!reader! Also POC friendly! If you notice anything that makes you feel otherwise please let me know! I never want anyone to feel excluded with/in my work ♡, Also a warning to anyone that decides to follow me- if you do not have your age in your bio or a pinned post I will block you… just a fair warning.

Notes: Thank you for requesting this anon! I loved the idea so much so I hope this does your request justice! I kinda went a little soft with the Price one because for some reason I can’t stand the thought of reader being mean to that sweet man (if you want though send me another request and I can write one that’s more angst filled 😊) although I did bring out the reader being angry in Simons. Another thing, I wrote this for Simon and not ghost but if you want I can write another one that has reader dealing with Ghost but be warned it will be angsty with lots of hurt from both parties! Sorry if the editing is bad I did try though lol and there will be more parts to this!

Tags: @homicidal-slvt (promised I’d tag you so here we are)

Price & Simon (You’re here!), Soap & Gaz, Alejandro, Rudy & König

(I will add the links as I post each part!)

John Price

-I feel like he may have wondered if you were a military kid since you didn’t seem to be phased by him having to leave so often

-There were other things that also made him wonder, like how you always made your bed in the mornings, how schedules were majorly important to you to the point that if you knew you were going to be late, you'd get majorly upset, and how you also seemed to understand military lingo up to a certain point. He never asked though since you didn’t talk about your childhood much so he just figured that if you wanted to tell him that you would -But he started to notice that lately, you started to seem off when you found out he would have to be deployed soon.

~~

John had been awake since the early hours of the morning. He couldn't seem to get much sleep in the few days before his next deployment. He had left the warmth of your shared bed before even the morning birds could be heard outside, hoping not to wake you with his restlessness, but little did he know that you hadn't slept at all.

By the time you stumbled out of bed with bags under your eyes and your mind feeling exhausted from the lack of sleep and your own brain tearing itself apart, it was well past 10 a.m., which wasn’t the most unusual for you, but on the day before John would be deploying it was a little odd since usually you were up trying to help him get his stuff together and would make a huge breakfast since you both weren’t sure how long it would be until he would get to enjoy a home-cooked meal again.

You had hoped to get to the kitchen and make yourself a cup of coffee before seeing John, but he was standing at the fridge, putting groceries away from multiple brown paper bags.

You made your way to the coffee pot that seemed to have a fresh pot being made and got a cup from the cabinet before he started to talk, “I noticed we were getting low on some things so I thought I’d save you a trip to—,” he pauses, causing you to turn to face him, “Sweetheart?”

You were pressing your hands into your eyes, trying to relieve the aching pressure that was remaining consistent behind them, when he made his way across the kitchen and gently cupped your cheeks, “Are you feeling alright, love?”

You didn’t mean to do it, but you flinched away from his hands, taking a few steps back so that there was some distance between you both. You could see the hurt in his eyes before they were overcome with confusion and you hated that he was looking at you as if you were a skittish kitten that would run at the smallest movement.

He reaches an arm out slowly, as if to not startle you.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, pulling your arms tight around you, and try to focus on keeping your breathing calm, like your parents taught you when you were little.

He takes a small step forward so that his fingers are almost grazing your arm but stops when sees you curling in on yourself, “Sweetheart, something is obviously wrong. You're crying, and your body is shaking.”

“Hey,” you finally look up into his eyes, “you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but at least let me help you.”

Your heart breaks from the pain you can see in his eyes. In all the time you've been together, you’ve never pulled away from him like this. Usually, you were the one open about your emotions and what you were feeling while having to coax John into telling you what was going on in his mind, “Please, darling.”

You let yourself fall into his open arms at that point, sobbing into his neck. He presses you against his chest, gently speaking into your ear, assuring you that everything is fine, that he is here for you, and that he will always be there.

You mumble into his neck, causing him to gently pull you back so that he can hear you: “What was that, sweetheart?”

You try to concentrate on the sensation of his calm heartbeat against your chest before finally saying, "My parents promised me the same thing."

He pulls away, puzzled, and you notice him looking at you in the corner of your eye, so you burrow your face into his chest and say, "They were both military. They died when I was 14," you finish, taking a deep breath. “They were deployed together when it happened… They said that it was an accident, that my mom got stuck on a timed land mine, and my dad wouldn’t leave her no matter what.”

"Oh, love." You feel his body tense before relaxing.

He gently grips the back of your neck and pulls you back so that you're looking into his eyes; the softness in them is almost enough to send you running as far as possible so that you never have to feel the type of pain that you did the day that you found out your parents died.

“Love, I'm not going anywhere,” you go to speak but he shushes you, “You are my world, the person I’m fighting for.”

He brings his hand under your chin so that he is gripping it gently and says, “You are the reason I’m still alive. The reason why I feel like life is still worth living and fighting for.”

He tips his head down so that his lips are grazing yours, “I’ll always come home, love.”

You push forward so that your lips are fully pressing against his, then he pulls back, “Why don’t we go take a bath, get you feeling better?”

~~~~

The next morning you wake frantically looking around, hoping that he didn’t leave without saying goodbye, when he walks in carrying a tray of food, “John? I thought you had to leave this morning.”

He smiles gently, his eyes lighting up, “Called Kate, they don’t actually need me for another week, and I figured my love needs me a little bit more than my job at the moment.” He sets the tray down on the bed, and you jump into his arms with a happy squeal, “I love you, John.”

"I love you too, sweetheart," he says as he gently kisses you.

~

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

-So we all know Simon is amazing at reading people, but I don’t think he would know that you were a military kid. He could see all the signs that you may have had a difficult childhood, but he personally knows what it’s like to have a childhood you don’t want to talk about, so he never has and never will question you about your past. -Pasts are a hard topic for Simon in the first place, so I could honestly see him being a bit grateful that you didn’t share the bad parts of your childhood, meaning that he also didn’t have to share his. It was almost a silent agreement between you both to not talk about the negative parts of things unless one of you came to the other wanting to talk about it.

~~~~

Back to him being great at reading people: He could tell that over the past few days, your body language had been changing, becoming more standoffish. Not being as open to cuddling and kisses, not even wanting him to walk up behind you and wrap his arms around you, which you usually loved.

He figured that maybe you were just having a few rough days, which was normal for anyone; hell, he knew he had them quite often, and you were always there for him no matter how bad they got, so he wanted to do the same for you.

Today had been the worst day of all, though. You were almost refusing to talk to him completely unless it was one-word answers, which he was able to roll with pretty easily. You would move rooms almost every time he would come in, not even saying anything, just picking up your things and going.

This made him decide on leaving you alone for the most part, other than when he would bring you a fresh cup of tea or was just checking in on you. So he decided on cleaning up the house a little bit, he was going to be deploying again in a week and he wanted to help however he could, knowing that it was a rough transition from having him around to it being an empty house again.

He had just finished cleaning the dishes when he looked at the time and decided on ordering out for dinner, which would hopefully raise your mood a bit and it would also be an easy enough mess to clean up. He found you in the living room watching a movie on Netflix with a blanket wrapped tightly around you and stood in the doorway for a moment just admiring you when you paused it.

When you snap at him, "What do you want, Simon?" Your eyes aren't even on him but on your phone, which is on your lap.

He feels his eye twitch but he keeps himself calm and makes sure that it shows in his tone that your attitude is leaving him unaffected, “I was just goin’ to ask what you wanted for takeout, love.”

You huff and try to pull yourself up from the couch while also trying to unwrap the blanket from around you, almost falling, but Simon rushes forward and straightens you up, but you quickly pull away.

You look at him with fury in your eyes, “Can't you just leave me the hell alone?” Your voice is rising slightly, and your face is flushed with rage. “It’s what you constantly do anyway!”

You can see Simon's eyes widen, but you don't care; the words are just spilling out of your mouth before you can stop them, "You're never actually here when I need you, but when you are, you can't take the fucking hint of when I just want you to leave me alone!"

"Sometimes Simon," you pause, feeling the tears flood into your vision, making the floor blurry, "I wonder why I even stay when you are just going to end up hurting me exactly like he did," you whisper, staring hard at the ground, your chest puffing in and out quickly, trying to pull in air after your large outburst.

The words come out in a whisper, the room becoming so silent that you can almost hear the gears in his head turning, wondering who the hell you were talking about.

You hear him take a step forward on the wood flooring, his voice incredibly soft, “Dove.”

You look up through the tears and see his hands reaching out for you, and for the first time in all the time you two have been together, Simon Riley almost looks scared—not scared of you but as if his world was coming apart.

When his hand gently touches your arm, it pulls you out of your stupor, making you pull away, frantically shaking your head, “Don’t touch me.”

The words come out shaky and broken, but they make him freeze nonetheless, and you can see in his eyes that he’s trying to pull himself together, trying to figure out what he's supposed to do in a situation like this.

He takes a small step back, his gaze fixed on yours, and he holds his hands out in front of him, as if to demonstrate that he is not a threat. "Okay, I won't touch you." He comes to a halt, seeing the fear in your eyes, the look of a frightened animal ready to flee at any moment. "It's okay, love, everything's fine-"

He doesn't even finish his sentence before you're flying down the hallway, grabbing your bag from the hooks by the front door and bolting out the door, slamming it loudly behind you, leaving him standing halfway down the hallway, his mouth slack-jawed, unsure of what the hell just happened.

~~~

After nearly ten minutes of fast walking, you finally slowed down and stopped in the nearest store to clean your face of tear marks and, hopefully, make yourself look presentable. You sent a quick text to Simon, letting him know that you were safe and that you didn't know when you'd be back. You left your phone on long enough to see him read the message and the text bubble pop up before you shut the phone completely off and tucked it into the bottom of your bag.

You spent the next two hours wandering aimlessly, wondering if you'd just ruined your relationship with the only man you'll ever love, when you came across the small Italian restaurant where Simon had taken you on your first date. You remember the way you tried to pay for your half of the dinner, but he quickly slipped his card to the waitress before you could even argue, saying something about how if you decided not to go on a second date with him, you deserved to at least get a free meal from it, and you teased him by asking him if there was a reason you shouldn't want to go on another date with him.

The memories make your stomach queasy, making you want to kick yourself in the back for being so stupid, but you walk in and order your and Simon's favorite dishes and try to keep the food as warm as possible on your walk back to your shared home. One side of you hopes you’ll find him there, not an empty house, and the other side wants to avoid this conversation for as long as possible.

You walk up the steps, and most of the house seems to be dark except for the living room, where a single light is on. You unlock the door and try as quietly as possible to slip your shoes off while also trying not to drop the food.

You make your way towards the living room to find Simon sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. You look over to the coffee table and see bags with your favorite restaurant's logo tied off, trying to keep the heat in the bags, making your heart ache with the fact that he still thought of you after you treated him like complete trash.

He was the first man ever to treat you with so much love. Even while he was deployed, he was making efforts to show you that he cared, like scheduling a delivery of your favorite flowers to show up on your day off with a little note, paying for over a month's worth of your order at your favorite coffee shop, and bringing back little trinkets from the places he was deployed too.

You knew him being deployed wasn’t his fault; it was part of his job. You knew he wasn't your dad and that it wasn't Simon’s fault that the man who was supposed to love you treated you as if you weren't even his child but rather just another one of his soldiers.

It wasn’t his fault that your dad wouldn't be home for months on end; it wasn’t his fault that the last time you ever saw your dad, you told him you hated him for never being home; it wasn't his fault that the day your dad was supposed to come home from a four-month deployment, instead of hearing him come home, there were four hard knocks on the door; it wasn't his fault that two soldiers were standing at the door; it wasn’t his fault that they were holding a folded-up flag with your dad’s military dog tags on them.

It. Wasn’t. His. Fault.

Yet you treated him as if it were. You didn't know which was worse, the fact that he didn't already know about what happened to your dad or the fact that you wished he did so that he could have a reason to hate you for lashing out.

You step into the room, setting the food you got by the food he ordered. “Simon?”

He doesn’t move for a second, then he looks up at you, and you feel your heart shatter for the umpteenth time tonight. “Oh, Simon,” you whisper, moving so that you’re standing in front of him and drop down onto your knees, “I am so fucking sorry. I don't even have the words to tell you how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you… I should’ve just talked to you instead of letting it build up.”

You move your hands up to gently cradle his face in both your hands and connect your eyes with his molten ones, which usually provided you with comfort. Now, though, all you can see is the look he gave you after you yelled at him, “I— I never should have let my feelings bottle up about me being upset about you having to be gone. I know it's not your fault. I knew what I was getting myself into when we made things official all those years ago. I knew what your job would bring before then; I made the choice to be with you. I'll never regret that.’’

You move your eyes across his face, trying to gauge his emotions, but you get nothing.

“Si, baby?” you whisper.

His eyes move away from you. “Who were you talking about when you said I'm just going to hurt you like he did?’’

You look away, your eyes settling on a loose string on his pants. “I was talking about my dad.” You take a deep breath before continuing, knowing that you have to tell him, “H– He was military like you.”

His hand reaches out to gently lift your chin, bringing your gaze to his. “He died,” you continue, “He died and the last time I ever saw him, I told him I hated him because he was always gone. He…I let him go that day without saying goodbye or telling him I loved him, and the next time I saw him, his body was in a casket."

"Love," he says with a gentle frown.

"No, Simon," you say, shaking your head. Just because I’m scared—no, fucking terrified—of that happening again with you doesn't give me the right to treat you that way. I am so sorry.”

He leans back in the couch and pulls you up into his lap; once you're comfortable, he brings his hands up so that one is cupping your cheek and the other trails down your arm to hold your hand. "Dove, I know what it's like to lose family. I know what it can do to you. I understand that pain more than you know. Pain like that is unlike anything else.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you blink them away quickly before they fall. "You've lost family, too?"

He nods gently, and you can see deep emotions that seemed to have been buried for a long time beginning to surface. “My mum, my younger brother Tommy, and his wife Beth.” He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, they are filled with unshed tears. “My nephew Joseph.”

You can feel the back of your throat starting to burn from keeping your tears in, but you push your forehead against his anyway. “Simon.”

He looks into your eyes before whispering, “I wish I could tell you it would stop hurting eventually, but I can’t. I’m not going to lie to you and say I’ll always make it back home to you; that's not something I can guarantee, but one thing I can promise is that I will always try my damn hardest to make it back. I will always fight with everything in my soul to make it back to you.”

Tears are softly running down your face at this point, falling to land on Simon’s hoodie. “I love you so much, sweets. I never want to lose you.”

You let out a choked cry before you kissed him gingerly, and you could taste the saltiness of your tears mixed in with all the flavors that reminded you of Simon. Of home.

“I love you so much too, Si.”

He leans in to kiss you again with a light press of his lips to yours before he pulls away and looks at the forgotten food on the coffee table and lets out a light chuckle, “I see we both had the same idea.”

You let out a shaky laugh and nod your head before snuggling your head into the warm crook of his neck. He runs a large hand up and down your back, slowly stopping at the bottom to rub gentle circles into a spot that usually bothers you. "Well, why don’t we eat, and maybe in the morning we can talk a little bit more.”

Yawning into his neck, you pull back and ask, “Can we finish the movie I was watching earlier? It was just getting to the good part before I stopped it.”

He nods, and you excitedly get out of his lap to get your blanket and the TV remote before he pulls the coffee table closer to the couch so that he can start opening the containers. Once you start the movie, you look over to Simon to find him already watching you with a soft look, and all you can think is how thankful you are to have found a man who loves you through all your faults and you through his.

You were grateful for ever getting the chance to be loved by Simon Riley, a man who truly believed that he couldn’t love and that he wasn’t worth loving. You knew that it would probably take your whole lives to heal from the things you've both been through, but as long as you were together, that was all that mattered.

Hi my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed this hc for Price and Simon! Feedback is appreciated but not necessary. As always I hope you have a great day/night. <3

Requests are open so feel free to send in some! I cannot promise when or if I will write them, but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them easier to write but it's not required. Thanks for reading my darlings! ♡

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[finntheehumaneater]

⭐️Radio Star⭐️ (part 5)

(TW: brief reference to past trauma, some gory description {blood, bones, guts, ripping/pulling of skin, etc.} but it’s used in a poetic sense so it’s not actually happening)

(If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know via the comments! And if you want to follow along with the story but don’t like being tagged, you can either follow my blog, or follow the tag “radio star by Finn”!!)

reblogs and comments are appreciated 🩵

(Part one) (part six)

Steve spent an embarrassing amount of time waiting by the phone these days—curled up on the floor next to the wall with his head pressed to his knees and his jacket pulled tight around him. Eddie hadn’t called, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to—but god he wanted him to. He really did. It felt like invisible hands were tugging at his skin, bloody fingers curled against his spine, pulling him and telling him to just give up and lay down and die. He hadn’t really felt like himself in weeks, and he needed a distraction.

The phone book on the shelf—balanced on top of novels that Robin had never read but insisted on buying—was full of numbers that he would never have remembered otherwise. Old friends. Family members he had cut contact with years ago. Past hookups from months ago because he swore of doing that shit if it didn’t mean anything real to him.

He stood up, leaning against the wall and scrubbing his hand harshly against his eyes. He was crying and he didn’t even know why. He opened the phone book and flipped through the pages, running his fingers over the soft paper and sighing. 

Robin was out with Vickie. She had been spending less time with him, and it was fucking ripping him apart from the inside out. His blood and guts were on the floor, covering the walls and the carpet and their shared beds, and she walked out on him with unknowing eyes—just ruffling his hair and saying she would probably end up staying the night. 

And he knew he was being dramatic, he fucking knew it, but he also knew that he was losing his best friend. The person who knew about everything that he had been through—the person that he cried to when the memories of things he had blocked out came flooding back to him and all he wanted to do was shed his skin and curl up in the closet as someone new and broken.

Plus he could feel a migraine coming on, which was just fucking great.

He could call Addie. But they only went on two dates and had sex once. She got mad when he was upset over something, so she wasn’t the best person to call. Instead, he punched in Vickie’s phone number. Maybe if he just talked to Robin about what was going on she would come back home early and they could just…sit. And talk. Talking didn’t really help, but he was out of options, right now.

The phone rang for a minute. And then two. And then it stopped. No one answered. Steve forced himself to put it gently back into the receiver instead of slamming it like he wanted. He dropped his head into his hands and felt like falling apart and sobbing on the floor for a bit before making some tea. Some good tea, this time, not the stupid shit from the Advent Calendar. 

But then the phone rang again, and he scrambled to grab it, talking with a choked and tight voice before he could even take a breath. “Fuck—Robin, I need—I need you to come home for a bit, I—“

He cut himself off when the person on the other end of the line cleared their throat and said gently, “Stevie? Is that you?”

It was Eddie. Steve nodded numbly, not realizing that Eddie couldn’t see him. He didn’t want to talk to Eddie right now, he wanted to talk to Robin. “Mhm,” he amended, willing his voice to go back to normal. It didn’t work.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Eddie sounded genuinely concerned, and it made Steve want to cry again. Steve wrapped the phone cord around his finger and then dropped it. Then he did it again. He sighed. “No. I’m just…sorry, I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“Hey, hey—I called you. I called you because I wanted to talk to you. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”. Steve nodded again out of habit, and then muttered a quiet, “okay.”

Eddie sighed, but it sounded more teasing than anything. “You need to say it like you mean it, otherwise it doesn’t count.”

“This is so stupid.”

“Steve.”

“Hm?” He smiled slightly, despite himself, his hand tugging at the phone cord gently.

“I’ll keep bothering you until you say it.”

“Fine.” Steve huffed, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Happy?”

“Oh, I am very happy.” Eddie said, and Steve could hear the grin in his voice. “Sorry it took so long for me to call, honey. Pen smudges off easily. You don’t know how many innocent people I dialed before this while trying to guess what the missing number was.”

Steve laughed quietly at how Eddie phrased that, leaning against the wall a bit more. His face flushed at the nickname, but he kept his voice steady. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I, uh…I don’t know. I just…don’t feel like myself.”

“How so?”

Steve paused, thinking. “I-I—I don’t…uh…it’s the anniversary of something soon, I guess. In two weeks. I always get…sad, I guess?” It felt good to admit that out loud after months of ignoring it. He just didn’t like to think about it, really—but recently his feelings about it had been getting stronger, and that wasn’t good.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Is it okay if I ask what happened?” 

“I don’t…like talking about, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry…” Eddie paused, and there was the sound of shifting from the other end and a soft huff. Eddie was probably sitting. Steve slid down the wall to sit, too, feeling the phone-cord go a bit taught around his finger, so he moved it. “You don’t ever have to tell me, okay? Don’t feel bad about it. I just…”

He trailed off, and Steve felt his shoulders tense.

“Are you going to be okay?” Eddie whispered, his voice softer than before. “I have—I have a friend who gets like that, kind of? He gets…he’s really fucking hard on himself, then. Is that what happens to you?”

Steve sighs, his eyes drifting to the front door. “No, I get…sad.”

“What helps?”

“Hm?”

“What helps when you feel sad.”

Steve thinks, again, his eyes watering slightly and his voice shaking again as he swallows around a pathetic sound he doesn’t ever want to let out. “Company, I-I guess?”

“And I take it you’re alone?”

Steve swallowed. Took a breath. “Yeah.”

“Okay, look—I know we don’t really know each other that well—“ that made Steve pause, his eyebrows furrowing. It was true. He didn’t know anything about Eddie—except where he worked—and he had waited by the phone like a fucking dog with his leash in his mouth for days. That was pathetic. He was pathetic. 

“But,” Eddie continued. “I could come over? If having company helps you to be less sad?”

“The…the house is a mess, I…” Steve could hardly hear his own voice, but it sounded dazed and light, almost too quiet.

“We meet up then?”

“I don’t trust myself to drive.” His eyesight couldn’t be trusted anymore, and the thought that he might be losing it—really losing it that made him want to fucking die.

“I’ll pick you up, then. How does that sound, sweetheart? We can go wherever you want.”

“Are you sure it’s not an inconvenience or anything…? I—I can just deal with it—“

“Hey, stop…no one should have to be sad when it’s almost Halloween, that is practically a crime.”

Steve laughed, but it didn’t sound right. He told Eddie his address and went to change—because even though it was nearly 22:00, he hadn’t gotten dressed that morning. 

It didn’t take long for Eddie to get there, and Steve was sitting on a chair on the porch when he arrived. This wasn’t a date, but he still wanted to make sure he looked okay. His eyes felt heavy, and they were probably red around the rims from crying. He hadn’t even cried a lot—just for a few minutes when he saw the two young girls who lived in the house next to them get home. And he knew it was stupid, but he missed Robin. He really fucking missed Robin, even though she was only half-an-hour away.

It was around 22:25, now, if the clock on the wall that he had gone inside to check a few minutes ago could be trusted. Eddie got out of his van, which looked old, but not damaged. Steve could see him clearly in the soft yellow light of the street-lamp. His hair was half-up-half-down, with two strands tugged out to frame his face, which he had probably done on purpose. Steve knew he had seen Eddie before their encounter at the Haunted maze thing, but that interaction was still fuzzy and hazed around the edges. 

His face-piercings were more defined, black, and they stuck out against his very-fucking-pale skin. He was wearing his flannel and jeans, with a black t-shirt. Steve felt his fingers dig into his arms—into the sleeves of the jacket that Eddie had lent him. 

Eddie stood there, waiting, looking at Steve with eyes so soft that it made his stomach twist into gross, bloody knots. Steve stood and walked over, stopping short in front of Eddie and looking down at his sneakers, water creeping back into his eyes. He needed to stop fucking crying. 

Eddie laughed quietly and gently tugged at the sleeve of his jacket, which Steve was stalling taking off. “Is that John Lennon?”

Steve looked up. “Hm?”

“On your shirt.”

“Oh, uh…yeah.”

Eddie opened the passenger-seat door and bowed slightly, motioning for Steve to get in. He did. It smelled like cigarettes and the cheap strawberry chapstick that Robin always made him buy when they went shopping. He needed to stop thinking about Robin right now. There was a long list of things that he needed to stop doing. 

Eddie closed the door and only for a moment did Steve feel shut in—in a way that he didn’t really like—before Eddie crossed to the other side of the car and slid into the driver's seat, tapping his hands on the wheel and sighing softly, looking over at Steve. “Are you okay?”

Steve nodded. He liked being with Eddie in person rather than over the phone. He didn’t have to wonder what he was doing. And he didn’t have to talk as much. Yeah, that was probably why.

“You like The Beatles?” Eddie questioned, turning the key and the car hummed softly. Steve sighed back and closed his eyes, nodding slightly again as he leaned his head against the window. It was late, and it was dark, and he was tired.

He heard Eddie shift, and his voice was closer when he spoke again. Softer. “Hey, sweetheart? Do you want me to just drive around for a while?”

Steve really didn’t, but he did. He didn’t want Eddie to have to drive him around just so that he could relax, but it was exactly what he needed. Steve nodded again.

He felt the car move forward for a very short moment, and then the world sort of fell away around him, the side of his forehead pressed to the cool window, his body slipped down perfectly in the seat until he felt okay. Until he felt safe. 

He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, or how long they had been driving , but Steve opened his eyes a little while after his bones felt the humming of the car stop. He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, forcing them to open. It was much darker than before, and there were trees around them. He could see the stars when he looked up through the window. Eddie wasn’t in the car anymore, but he could see the faint outline of a person sitting at the base of a tree, smoking a cigarette.

Steve pushed open the door with sleep-tired hands and stepped outside, his feet hitting the grass. He walked over to where Eddie was, sitting down next to him without a word and leaning back against the tree. 

There was a body of water near them—black, but the water was white where it shifted from the moon. It was a lake. Or maybe a pond, Steve couldn’t really see how big it was through the branches and the bushes. The air around them smelled like pine. 

Eddie pressed his arm against Steve’s, and his arm felt warm through the jacket sleeve. “Morning.”

“S’not morning.” Steve muttered, rubbing his eyes again. “What time is it?”

Eddie rested his hand on Steve’s knee so that Steve could see his watch. He had to squint to read the time. 00:30. He felt his shoulder sag slightly, and would have felt a twinge of disappointment when Eddie moved his hand, if he wasn’t already feeling horrible, guilt seeping in past his nerves and into his being. “Fuck, I’m sorry. You didn’t need to drive for that long.”

“Stop it,” Eddie whispered, his fingers slotting against Steve’s in a way that made his skin shudder and twist—wriggle around his whole body before it settled when Eddie leaned in slightly so that he could speak even quieter, his cigarette pinched in his other hand, thumb pressed to the end of it. “You don’t need to apologize, Stevie. I like driving. Honestly.”

“Where are we?” Steve found himself asking, looking up at the dark sky and pinpoints of light peering down at them. He could see Orion’s Belt. 

“Does it matter?” Eddie said back, smiling slightly.

Steve shrugged and leaned his head against Eddie’s shoulder. “We should go back.”

“Should we?” Eddie said softly, and Steve could feel his breath against his hair.

“Mhm. You can bring me back when it’s lighter?”

“I would love to.”

Eddie stood and tugged on Steve’s hand until he was standing, too, and they got back into the car. Eddie played Hey, Jude on the drive back.

sorry this took so long (again)!! As you can tell, I have no schedule for posting I just write when I feel like it :D

thank you @an-atlas-or-other for being literally the best beta reader ever!! <3

Taglist:

@strangersteddierthings @aol19 @randombibitch @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @stillfullofshit @steventhusiast @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff @itsthestrangestthingsm @5ammi90 @absolutegremlin @txumxssianfox @goodolefashionedloverboi @hbyrde36 @tartarusknight @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @a-little-unsteddie @hornybunnybaby @beawritingbooks @askitwithflours

#Radio Star by Finn #Steve Harrington fic #steve Harrington #Eddie Munson fic #eddie munson #robin Buckley fic #robin Buckley #vickie stranger things #vickie x robin #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #Steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #Stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #stranger things 90s au

[dottores]

okay well, i logged back in, obviously, because there are clearly some things that need to be addressed and have been taken out of context. just because i’m leaving doesn’t mean i should sit here and let my name be smeared. 

to preface this, anantaru and i had a discussion where we came to a congenial understanding of what happened, there's been an acknowledgment on both sides of misunderstanding and believing distorted rumors and people that we probably should not have, but i’m still going to give a full explanation as to the background of everything so you all can understand and come to your own opinions. plus, if there's going to be a call-out post directed majorly at me made, i want an official address of it.

please do NOT send any hate their way, we have ended this discussion on good terms and have worked out what exactly was stirring this discourse between us. (spoiler alert: there was a third-party shit-stirrer that we both considered a decent friend at the time!)

i don’t really need a reason to block someone, and i shouldn’t have to explain it, but i did and i will again but more explicitly this time: @/anantaru made a post that i did not like. it’s as simple as that. it was a post about genshin characters and sex icks and one of the lines were “venti: too drunk.” i’m not anti-dc, but there are topics that i am sensitive about because i was sa’d in my freshman year of college—that is something i have talked about on this blog before, many of you who've been around since my tr era are aware of it. i acknowledged, and tee acknowledged, that this was probably a joke and was not meant to be taken the way i took it, but the aloof/casual way it was mentioned without any TW of implied dubcon, and without acknowledging that it was at least dubcon and could border on noncon in certain interpretations made me uncomfortable. i don’t mind seeing it as long as i’m warned. if it was tagged properly, i would have moved on without much care, but it wasn’t, so i was scrolling through the post snorting and was hit with that and i was made uncomfortable because i didn't like how it was just being passed off as an ick, and i blocked. there was no reason for it to go beyond what it did, yet we are here. anantaru mentioned that if you frequent their blog, you would know that they often write about venti and reader being drunk—i don’t frequent their blog, in fact this was my first encounter with them being reblogged onto my dash by shared mutuals, so it rubbed me wrong. thats the end of it. 

i’m not sure the exact timing, but i believe it was two(?) weeks after this, when i reblogged an unpopular opinion’s post with an opinion that i thought was fairly harmless. sure, looking back on it i could have phrased it better, i’m not going to deny that, but pinpointing my one opinion out of the hundreds of others that were objectively far more controversial than mine and crucifying me for it is uncalled for. you guys know very well that i do not have the time or energy to sift through random people’s blogs to look for minors. every once in a while i glance at the notes of shit posts that happen to be on my dash and i’d be a bit startled at finding a minor in them because i still do think you should at least try to catch minors who interact with shit posts because that’s the easiest way to find them. but i was working at a medium sized firm for a year and a half at the time of the post and i am currently in law school, i do not have the time to be psychotic about people’s likes and interaction, and even if i did have the time?? i’ve always gotten incredible interaction from y’all lmfao, imposing the idea that i’m jealous is entirely inane. i do still stand by the fact that my words were twisted, i was made out, more than once and by more than one person after the next bullet point's events, to have been some psycho that stalks peoples’ posts for excuses as to why they get interaction when that is simply not the case. 

regardless, after this incident, anantaru made a vague post that was almost directly quoting my tags from the reblog and was thus sent to me because many shared mutuals put together that it was about my tags. this was upsetting for multiple reasons 1) i had blocked anantaru by this point so i felt a bit violated that i was being vagued for something by someone that i blocked. 2) i started getting hate anons en masse after it, some of which were very unnecessarily explicit. needless to say, i was very upset and made a subpost on my main account after noticing i’ve been blocked on ao3 because 1) i was already upset and i didn’t even know why anantaru seemed to have it out for me much less go to the point of blocking on ao3 which leads into my next point and 2) i thought it was a bit ridiculous because the only thing blocking on ao3 stops is people from commenting on posts and i clearly was not going to comment on a post of someone who i was not on good terms with. reasoning aside, anantaru can block who they want and i was out of line for making comments about that in particular. i’ll admit that, and apologize for it. 

a screenshot was taken from my personal—not a good moment for me, obviously, but anantaru claimed in their post that it was about them with no evidence. i dmed them about this in particular because i was genuinely confused, we spoke about it, i offered them proof that it was not them because i had a discussion about this post with a close friend at the time of posting it and they believed me. i will attach screenshots below (cropped because there's no reason to attach the whole conversation) because i feel as if this accusation was rather extreme and i wish it would’ve been removed because it was obviously not my best moment. an explanation for the post itself, i was upset over plagiarism accusations regarding something i put my heart and soul into and then seeing the same person that made them consistently on my dash just straight up triggered me, for lack of a better word lol, so i made a vent on my personal. how it got misconstrued as to be anything about anantaru is baffling to me but i suppose that's a question for the subject of our next bullet point. i don’t want to go into detail about the accusations in themselves because i don’t want people to send the actual person who it’s about hate. regardless, that post was not about anantaru, i have never called them a cunt nor have i ever called them a gatekeepy cunt, though i’m beginning to think i should probably remove the word from my vocabulary atp, i use it far too flippantly. anyway, i do not know them well enough to formulate any sort of opinion like that. aside from that, in our discussion we came to an understanding over it and i wish that would have been cleared on their blog as wel. so i'll attach here (i crossed some out because i don't want to breach any boundaries regarding what anantaru might be comfortable sharing but i do think it's fair for me to want this particular point fully cleared as it was a bold accusation remaining up):

5. in our discussion, we came to realize that we have/had a shared mutual who was fostering discourse between the two of us. many of you will recognize her as audri aka alucrds, who has supposedly left tumblr by this point—i suspected this and anantaru has confirmed it while we were talking. audri was sending anantaru my posts claiming that they were about anantaru, but i will stress that the only actual discussions i ever had with anyone about anantaru was with tee and eris about that initial joke because it had upset me at the time, it never extended beyond that and it certainly was never with audri. my only conversation with audri that mentioned anantaru at all was probably around a week or so after i made the post in point 3, when audri asked me about ao3 blocking in casual conversation and i offhandedly mentioned that anantaru had blocked me on there—audri was a close friend at that point and iirc, she had actually told me right after that that anantaru had her blocked on tumblr, i had no idea that they'd been mutuals at all but either way, it was an offhanded comment that led to nowhere (or so i thought LOL). looking back on it, it was clearly her baiting me into giving her information about the post i made a week or so prior because after talking with anantaru, they explained that they got an anonymous message claiming that i was shit talking them for blocking them on ao3 and the only person that could have put together that the vent post from point 3 was about anantaru was audri herself. audri continued to evidently cherry-pick random vent posts of mine to show anantaru and claim that they were about them. why? i wish i could tell you. i considered audri a decent enough friend, and though she had her fair share of issues with mutuals and other friends of mine, i never really thought she’d stoop to this with me. but i guess there’s really no explaining people who thrive in discourse.

6. my comment in my most recent post about being harassed on ao3 and in comments and in asks was not about them at all. i thought it was very clearly about heliotropes (my dottore series) and pressure to update from certain readers, but i'm clarifying that now.

7. i never intended on directly addressing this, which is why i did not directly name anantaru in my post, if i’d known at the time that tee was going to end up addressing all of this, i would’ve just been straight up with all of it.

anyway, i think that’s all, hopefully this will be the last post for real as i am tired mentally and now i am also physically sleep deprived. i've been up since three so forgive me for typos and grammar errors. this all has gone on for over a year. sorry for all the discourse on y'all's dash, wish i could have left with a bit more grace than this. rumors have been blown out of proportions and blindly believed, things have been taken out of context, such is life. i made my fair share of mistakes on my personal blog with my vents, others have admitted and owned up to their own mistakes, some will never admit to their mistakes. such is life. it moves on, always does. i know all of y'all are smart enough to come to your own opinions.

over and out, sorry again, and logged out (hopefully for real this time),

cat

#tw discourse

[chang-bunnie-bini-bop]

hiraeth • seo changbin [part two]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

✰ pairing - roommate!changbin x fem!reader

✰ warnings - reader passes out, very smalll angst, slightly suggestive [?]

✰ word count - 2.1k

✰ notes - what do you think he's hiding??? ALSO im so sorry i left you all hanging...i promise ill update frequently...'kay?

✰ tags - @hyunjinslittlestar @dunno-wut-to-do

✰ sypnosis: changbin takes care of you after you manage to somehow make your condition worse. but he's hiding something.

hiraeth - the longing for a home that you cannot return to, or never was.

masterlist | requests open!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“So, do you want to tell me what happened?” Your roommate asked hopefully, curious, obviously. 

You decide to respond truthfully, mostly because he would probably see right through your lies. 

“Not really.”

Changbin was just…that kind of person. Wise, but funny when he needed to be. He knew exactly what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. 

He wasn’t the type of person to be afraid of his flaws, but to embrace them. This was a trait many people probably admired about him, but to you, it was the one thing that frustrated you most. 

You wished you could be like that. 

“Well,” He started, slapping his own thighs and getting up. “I’m just gonna-”

For some reason, a primal sort of instinct overwhelmed your mind immediately. You didn’t want him to leave.

You panicked and acted without thinking. 

Your arms darted out and wrapped around his stomach, head resting on his back. 

Changbin froze in his position, sagging slightly as your hand patted his tummy and attempted to pull him closer. 

You were so embarrassed, there was no way you were going to lift your head, not after pulling him around like he was your teddy bear. 

He turned around, holding your outstretched arms gently and folding them in your lap. 

You averted your entire face down, hair falling in between your eyes and effectively masking your whole face. 

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

“Your hair is so thin. Its become so ugly after that haircut.” The mom scoffed, yanking at the girl’s hair as she brushed through it. 

“Agh! Mom, careful! Also, I love the haircut. It makes me feel happy.” The girl talked back, earning an extra tough tug to the hair again. 

“Well, useless girl. Clearly, you’re ugly on the inside and outside.” Her mom made sure to push her head as she stood up, brushing her clothes off. 

“Now go to something useful, unlike your sister.” She spat. 

The thirteen year old resisted the urge to roll your eyes spitefully, knowing that it was probably better to just…listen to her. 

Maybe…she was just some useless girl. 

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

Yoe opened your eyes, and sunlight flooded your features aggressively. 

You whined and put your hand in front of your face, effectively blocking the sunlight. 

I probably fell asleep. 

Getting up, you look around the unfamiliar setting. 

Changbin was fast asleep beside you, putting cutely and hugging a Pokémon plush. 

It wasn’t uncommon for both of you to fall asleep next to each other, considering your biggest fear was loud noises, and thunderstorms occur pretty frequently. 

You had just…needed someone beside you. 

Now you had him. He groaned a bit and shuffled, the sunlight hitting him directly in the face. 

You almost had the urge to hug him again, but instead, you leaned down and pressed your lips to his cheek, thankful for the good nights rest. 

He squirmed slightly and almost woke up, prompting you to jump out of bed quickly and walk into the shared bathroom, which smelled like men’s perfume. 

The scent was so familiar you almost keeled over. It wasn’t strong, but it smelled sweet, like honeydew. 

You brushed your teeth, turning on the shower. Feeling almost lightheaded, you pressed your hand to your forehead, and yup, you had a high fever. 

You cranked up the temperature to the highest, needing to get your muscles loose after the tension of yesterday, your tantrum combined with your excessive workout. 

You threw off Changbin’s shirt, squishing at your own belly and deciding to wear loose-fitting clothing, today was a bloated day for sure. 

The shower you took felt like true luxury, a paradise in which you didn’t have to worry about your feelings, but rather yourself for once. 

The steam fogged up the mirrors, but you didn’t care about how misty they would be later. 

You stepped out and wrapped a towel around yourself, grabbing your huge t-shirt, puffy sweatpants and undergarments. 

The light-headedness returned, and only after you finished putting your clothes in the hamper did you realize your own mistake. 

Oh my goodness. I’m so stupid. 

You had taken a boiling hot shower, with an extremely high fever. 

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

“Y/N-AH! I’m inviting some friends over for a while, is that okay?” Changbin yelled into the bathroom, rolling his eyes when you didn’t respond. 

He felt the steam of your shower circling his feet from the crack in the door, and his eyes widened. 

“YAH! Don’t use all the hot water! y/N!” He yelled, accentuating the last half of your name. 

“Hey, are you okay?! Y/N!” He knocked aggressively on the door, worry flooding his voice at the lack of answers, jiggling the locked handle. 

Then he heard a sickening thud. 

“Y/N! Hey, what was that?! Are you OKAY?!” Changbin screeched, banging on the door. 

His eyes widened in panic, and fright flooded his whole body. The door was locked. 

The master key. 

He ran to the kitchen and rummaged through the drawer, finding the key within a few seconds. 

Changbin ran back to the bathroom door and shoved the key into the lock with shaking hands. 

He managed to open the door slowly, covering his eyes in case…well, you know. 

“Y/N…?” He opened one eye, steam flooding his features. 

Your body was slumped over, the hamper of clothes knocked over and your hand resting on the pocket of one of his hoodies. 

Changbin took a deep breath, the heat almost unbearable. 

The older lifted your finished body over his shoulder while he pulled the hamper up again. 

Changbin adjusted his tank top and carried you to his room yet again, mirroring the previous night. 

He lightly tapped his hand on your cheek, attempting to wake your disgruntled body up. 

“Y/N-ah. Wake up, love.” He shook you lightly, and that’s what woke you up, finally. 

“C-changbin?” You stuttered, rubbing your eyes and gasping in pain as his hand pressed against your forehead. 

“Did you really take a hot shower with a fever?” 

You thought that he would gloat, laugh, make fun of you for being oh so stupid. 

But his tone was one of concern, of worry. 

For you. 

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, engulfing you in a blanket of warmth, which you definitely needed after the chill of of the room had overwhelmed your body. 

Your small frame shuddered, and you sagged in his hold, temporarily unaware of yourself, of anything. 

Numb. You felt numb. 

Like you didn’t care if you were happy or sad. 

Loud knocking tipped both of you out of your world, and Changbin grinned sheepishly at you as he motioned to himself. 

He wasn’t wearing a proper shirt. 

You rolled your watery eyes and walked to the door, hoping it wasn’t anyone important, considering your messed up state. 

“Hi-Is Changbin there?” A man asked. 

The first thing you noticed about him was that he was the epitome of perfect. 

Everything about him looked well put together, and his smile even had dimples. 

And then there was you, who was suddenly feeling very shy in front of him. 

“Yeah, Chan! I’ll be there in a sec!” Changbin yelled from the other room. 

You rolled your eyes. He was probably trying to find a good shirt that actually fit him and his muscles. 

Chan smiled down at you, and your mind immediately soured. Pity. 

But it didn’t seem like it. 

“What’s your name? Are you his roommate? He’s told me a lot about you.” Chan asked with a slight Australian accent, laughing at the end shyly. 

“Oh, my name is Y/N. Sorry, been having a rough week.” You responded, suddenly having the urge to shout ‘Aussie Aussie Aussie’ and see his reaction. 

“Everyone has those every once in a while.” Chan tsked, and Changbin chose that moment to emerge from his room, clad in a comfy shirt and sweatpants to mirror your own. 

Standing next to Chan, he suddenly looked way smaller, and you resisted the urge to coo at him. 

“Okay, we’ll be in my room, 'kay? I’ve ordered a nice lunch for you, and there’s a hot water bottle on the counter.” Changbin pointed out. 

Ever so thoughtful. You smiled at him for the first time in two days. 

“What about you? Did you eat already?” You asked, wanting to make sure he wasn’t skipping as he normally did. 

“Yup. I got Chan to confirm.” Binnie playfully slapped the man’s shoulder, and they both laughed while heading to his room. 

“Oh, and Jisung’ll be over soon.” Changbin called out, and your mood considerably lifted. 

Your best friend Jisung had already met Changbin, so he was a mutual friend along you two. 

You decided to slump on the couch and watch a movie, popping some pain medication and waiting for your food. 

When the doorbell rang, you bounced up from the couch and received the food, uttering a hushed thanks before shutting the door. 

You only just realized how starving you were. 

The package was ripped open and your mouth watered at the smell of the hot soup inside. 

For once it was actually hot. 

After gulping the soup down, which definitely helped your sore throat, you made a mental note to thank Changbin for all this.

The doorbell rang again, and you rushed to open it, almost knocking your toe onto the coffee table in the process. 

This time, it was Jisung, who bounced over to wrap you in a ginormous hug. 

Instead of pulling away like you normally did, you stayed in the hug for a while. 

This is what you needed. 

“Are you…okay, Y/N?” Jisung asked, and the question that you had waited so long for was finally voiced. 

You could feel your eyes tearing up painfully, and you sniffled quietly, the comforting embrace of your best friend made everything so much better.

“Oh no…I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have asked that!” Jisung bent down till he was about your level before wiping your tears off, concern lacing his voice and worry painted on his face.

“N-No. Don’t feel sorry. I’m just so happy that someone finally asked me that.” You avert your eyes, not wanting to see the full force of your best friend’s worry.

“Oh, Y/Nnie…” Hannie wrapped you tightly in his embrace again, and this time, he picked you up and headed to the couch, turning on some random movie. 

The day was full of cuddles and snacks, though you wondered what Chan and Changbin were doing the whole time. 

“I’ll see Changbin for a sec, yeah?” Han stood up and walked to your roommate’s door. 

You didn’t think too much about it, but then again, he had been seeing Chan and Changbin in that room quite often, hasn’t he? 

You knew it wasn’t your place to snoop, but you couldn’t help but wonder, what was he doing in there?

Either way, you decided to cook some dinner, knowing that Changbin often liked to skip his dinner, which you certainly did not enjoy.

You brought up a plate to his room, knocking on the door softly. 

Shuffling noises echoed through the area, and a very tired Binnie openned the door, however, his face lit up in happiness when he saw the food. 

“Aweee, Y/N! Thank you!” He took the tray, which had three bowls on it, into the room. 

Setting the tray down, he bounced back to the door to give you a quick, one-armed hug before running to the kitchen for some water. 

You saw your chance. 

“What have you been doing in there?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as he visibly panicked. 

“Nothing. Just some work. College never waits!” He grinned awkwardly, and that’s when you knew he was lying.

“What is up with you, Chan and Jisung lately? Are you…” Your eyes widened, and so did his. 

“What?! No, ew! It’s just something else…Y/N.” Binnie finishes oddly.

He sipped quickly at his water, bolting to his room again and shutting the door. 

You sigh to yourself before heading to bed. 

Maybe tomorrow would be better.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

masterlist | requests open!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

#binibop writes <3 #skz #skz fluff #stray kids #stray kids changbin #changbin x reader #changbin fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #changbin

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hi hello! I saw that you were accepting requests! Can I request something related to "Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot"? I seems like our dear mc has a bit of a language barrier with Berk and I think it would be funny seeing another suitor trying to woo her with poetry in a language she barely has a grasp on

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 5

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader, Notactually!Fishlegs x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1208

Such is the folly of a poet that, when dealing in rhymes and riddles, the innocent become victim to wordplay.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, poetry, misunderstandings

<Previous - Next>

“So…” You trailed off, “Ruffnut, huh?”

“What?” Fishlegs asked, clutching a stack of papers to his chest. He looked a lot like a deer in headlights, eyes impossibly wide, pupils outlined by white sclera.

You wrinkled your brow. It felt like a cliche. You almost felt bad, but it wasn’t like you were trying to listen in. You couldn’t help but to hear, especially not if he read his stuff aloud.

“O-oh,” he squeaked bashfully, “Don’t mind it, please!”

If you were going to be completely honest, you were only guessing.

“It was good,” You said. You would have been incredibly shy in his place, so you were careful to be kind.

“Really?” Fishlegs asked, eyes darting back and forth.

Of course, you had just given him quite the scare. He scrambled to bring loose, yellowed paper closer to him even as you blinked emptily to yourself.

You were by a set of wooden lunch table-esque benches in a tight clearing, created by an awkward placing of a few rows of houses. You’d been doing work round the corner, lazily pulling up a small bucket of water from one of the wells there in one of the alleys.

It was very private, probably why Fishlegs had taken so quickly to it. 

“Yes.” You said.

His hands relaxed at the confirmation. And, as they did, some other thick papers slipped from his hands onto the table. You couldn’t see all of them very well, but a few of the writings were legible to you. 

They read this:

Beautiful morning,

Yellow, yellow hair

Like snot 

And, the next:

Raucous girl,

A slim, slender warrior,

Near the seawater

Fishlegs followed your eyes.

“I didn’t want to share those because t-the, uh, I was afraid the Snot bit would remind her of Snotlout.”

“That would be confusing,” You nodded along in agreement, trying to hide your wince, “So, what brings you out here?”

There was a long moment of silence between the two of you until he spoke.

“Reading it aloud is a part of my process. I’m, ah, trying to build up some confidence.”  He uttered sheepishly. 

“Why don’t you run it by me before you share it with her, then?” You asked, settling on one of the long wooden seats across from Fishlegs, folding your hands together in your lap. You dropped the small water bucket you were carrying as you did so, your arms sighing in relief. Water was surprisingly heavy.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. It was a nice, sunny day out for once. Some poetry certainly wouldn’t hurt. In fact, you hoped it might add to the nice ambiance.

“Well, here goes,” He said, unsurely. You had to look up to see his face when he spoke. Thankfully, he didn’t block out the sun. You were facing the wrong direction for that. 

As soon as possible, you shoved the small bucket of water into the back of your mind. You’d rather not have to deal with it, now or later. You wanted very badly to abandon it, hoping that if you had, by chance, forgotten it, then it might absolve you of your guilt in dropping your requested task.

“My lanky love, ” Fishlegs began.  “I adore the way you jab, wrestle and prance, brawling with your kin of the same yoke, so similar. But how can I compare you to such an esque buffoon? You are more spunky, knotted and grappling. “

You wrinkled your nose in puzzlement. It turned out Fishlegs had a very loud speaking voice when he really wanted to have it.

“To wrestle- wrestling, that is-” He explained, perhaps catching onto your befuddlement. Not many people were familiar with how new you were to the language, though it wasn’t much of a secret. It was more because of a lack of care than anything else. 

“Oh,” You said, as he continued on. You wondered when Fishlegs had figured it out. You two certainly hadn’t talked before then. Maybe. You did remember this one time a while ago, but it was very brief.

“What does ‘yoke’ mean?”

”-I, ah-, joined together- ‘Yoke,’ that is- And, anyways- And let me count the ways in which I love your brassy hair and torso-”

As he spoke, you brought your arms up onto the table, leaning on your elbows and letting your head slump onto your closed fist as you relaxed into your seat. It was a bit hard to understand given the difference between English and Norse in sentence structure, but you thought you got the gist of it.

“-Tis not endemic, nor appling. Wanting your ovular face fills my days, and my nights. My heart beats for you by a grotesque tempo-”

Your eyes unfocused and refocused, somewhat distracted as you picked up something from behind Fishlegs. You hoped to seem involved. You were, and you hung onto every word, doing your best to keep up, though there were a few words you hadn’t quite gotten the hang of yet. Like ‘ovular,’ ‘grotesque’ and ‘tempo.’

However, you weren’t sure if it was appropriate for you to stare at his face the whole time, or if you were supposed to look elsewhere.

It was at this point that Fishlegs began to sound nervous, glancing somewhere off to the side, out of the realm of your vision. You wondered why.

“I think of you during each turn of the seasons, led by Sumarr in the mornings and Vetr in the evenings-”

As he tapered off, you noticed the flickering of a black tail from the corner of your eye.

“Though I must venture yonder with a potted heart, please remember my intrepid words whilst we're apart…”

You wrinkled your brow at Fishlegs confusedly.

“Was that good?” Fishlegs hedged nervously, about three octaves above normal. You stared at him for a moment, before you realized you had very much forgotten to react.

You weren’t sure if it was poetry, exactly. You weren’t as well-versed in the art of it as he was, but it seemed alright. 

“It was nice,” You said lowly, nodding your head. “I’m sure she’ll like it.”

Then, curiously, you turned your head, just in time to watch as Toothless strode forth to join his rider, standing behind one of the stacked rock walls along the edge of the clearing. He looked sort of grumpy. Both dragon and rider, that was. But it also looked like Hiccup was finally back in green, which was nice. You were starting to miss it, so you took that as a win.

“Oh, hey, Hiccup.” You waved, standing up and yawning. You put your hand over your mouth in an effort to cover it. 

You wondered how long Hiccup had been standing there, gaping. You wondered if he was constipated, or something. 

Fishlegs looked behind himself, like he was in trouble, at Hiccup who was standing behind the wall, brows furrowed, looking slightly scandalized, Toothless standing menacingly on his hind legs. Then he looked at you, and spent a while longer, eyes darting between the two. 

Then, with all the force of a hurricane, you came to a startling realization.

“Oh, no- this isn’t-He wasn’t-”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Fishlegs crumpled his papers to his chest, squeaking loudly.

#how to train your dragon #httyd #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #toothless #female reader #fem reader

[littlexscarletxwitch]

Hi! could you maybe do more of Florence being pregnant? they are the cutest stories to read, and i dont see alot of them, sadly enough. But if you do, thank you!<3

btw i love your work!!

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗯𝗶𝗻

paring: mum!florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): pregnant flo, fluff, r being worried about being a mother, flo reassuring r <3

warning(s): pregnancy (?), grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.3k

note: I feel like this is similar to 'Little Daisy' but also different (?), I tried my best. I'm having a majors writer block so if you guys have any requests please send them in. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Hope you like it, nonnie <3

note 2: HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN THE PICTURES OF FLO WITH ANDREW???!!! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

requests are open! + check my rules here <3

At first you didn’t notice the changes in Florence’s body, even though they were right there, hiding in plain sight. 

It all started with the nauseas. You thought she had a virus but a quick visit to the doctor told you otherwise. She wasn’t sick at all, she was full of life. A tiny human was growing inside of her. 

Your eyes winded once the doctor gave the both of you the news, horror and confusion and anxiety on your face. Florence, on the other hand, had the biggest smile on hers, her eyes sparkling at the doctor's statement. 

You tried to pretend everything was fine, you faked a small smile and quizzed her hand in assurance. But as soon as she and the doctor got to talking about her body and the baby, you zoned out, taking in the information. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to have a baby, no, that wasn't the problem. You would love nothing more than to form a family with her, but you weren’t sure if you were ready. A baby was a huge deal, it was a human being after all. They need to be taken care of, and you weren’t sure if you would be able to do that. One thing was taking care of yourself, another thing was taking care of Florence, and taking care of a baby was a whole other thing. 

Florence didn’t notice your odd behaviour until the both of you got in the car and you were still silent. She then realised that since the doctor had told the both of you the news you hadn’t said a word. 

“Y/n, baby, is everything okay?” she placed her hand on your thigh, gently squeezing it in reassurance. 

You looked at her, tears burning your eyes. 

“Baby, what is it?” the look on your face worried her instantly, her hand found your cheek trying to comfort you. You leaned into her touch. 

“I just, I don’t if I can do this, Flo,” you whispered, not actually wanting her to hear you. 

She looked so happy when she found out she was pregnant, you didn’t want to take that away from her. You didn’t want to disappoint her. 

“You mean the baby?”, she asked softly, not wanting to scare you more than you already were. 

You slowly nodded your head. “I just, I don’t think I will be good at it. I’m going to fuck up, and I don’t want that for them. I don’t want them to be like me, I won’t do that to them,” the tears you tried so badly to stop from shedding were now rolling down your cheeks. 

“Y/n, listen to me. I get it, it’s scary, it’s new. You have every right to feel like this, but hear my words. You are the most incredible human being I ever had the pleasure to meet. This baby would be the luckiest baby on earth to have you as their mother. And I would love nothing more than for them to be exactly like you. Because you are everything, Y/n. You are kind, you’re funny, you are loyal, compassionate, courageous. You are the most marvellous person I have ever met,” she gently wiped your tears. “And you are not alone, baby. I know we can do this, okay? I wouldn't want anyone else to share this baby with. I know we didn’t plan this, but maybe it’s meant to be,” she pressed her forehead against yours. 

“Flo, I’m just so scared.”

“I know, baby. I know. But, hey, we have about six more months before they are here. We have plenty of time to figure our shit out,” she joked. 

A giggle escaped from your lips.

“We got this, okay?”

“Okay.” 

She gently pressed her lips against yours, wanting nothing more than to kiss all your worries and fears away. 

[...]

“Holy shit,” you gasped. 

“I know right?” she smiled at you. 

Your hand was on her now 6 month belly, feeling the strong kick of your child. Billie, laying beside Florence on the bed, was also paying attention to the little kicks of the tiny human growing inside her owner. 

“His kicks are so strong.” 

“Yeah. Wait,” she looked up at you. “His?” she raised her eyebrow at you. 

“Yeah, he’s definitely a he.”

“And how would you know that?” she playfully smacked your arm. 

“I just have a feeling.”

“Well, since I’m the one carrying the child I know for a fact that he is in fact a she.” 

You shook your head.” No, it’s a boy. But it doesn’t matter, as long as he is healthy I don't’ care what he is,” you placed a soft kiss on her belly. 

“Or what she is.”

“Whatever they are, right Billie?” she heard your calling and barked at you. “See, she knows I’m right. Billie can also feel it.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Florence threw a pillow at you. A smile formed on her lips. 

Her heart warmed everytime you would talk about the baby with so much love in your eyes, knowing that you finally admitted to yourself that you were going to be great at motherhood. 

“What about Matthew?” 

“For the baby?” you nodded. “Even if it was a boy, which isn’t the case, we are not naming our child after some dude with a vigilante complex, Y/n.”

“Oh, come on. Matt is a great lawyer and a great dude. This baby would be lucky to be named after him.” 

She squinted your eyes at you, not sure if you were being serious or not. 

“Okay, Matthew is a nice name,” she gave in. “But that doesn’t mean it a yes, okay?” you pouted. “Don’t give me that look, Y/n. I said I’ll think about it,” she smacked the pillow into your face once again. 

“Stop doing that,” you chuckled, snatching the pillow from her hands. 

“What about Primrose?” she tried. 

You sent her a death glare. “Just because your name is flower related doesn’t mean our child’s should also be.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “Okay, new rule. If flower names are discarded, so are marvel names.”

“You monster,” you pretend to be shot in the heart. “Okay, deal,” you shook hands. 

Florence grabbed her phone looking for baby names, you took advantage of the fact that she was now distracted, leaned into her belly and whispered only for the baby to hear. 

“Don’t worry, little one. I’ll make sure you have a cool name, even if it isn’t Matthew.”

Florence bit her bottom lip trying to hide the smile creeping on her lips. 

[...]

“What do you think about Robin?” you whispered, trying not to wake up the small human being in your arms. Your eyes never left their tiny body, so fragile yet so strong and healthy. 

It had been about 17 hours since you and Florence arrived at the hospital, 5 hours since she started to give birth to your child, and now 10 minutes since you first held them in your arms. 

You were slowly swinging them back and forth, trying to keep them calm. But also soothing yourself. You felt like you were going to explode any minute, not just by excitement and love for the tiny baby in your arms. But also anxiety and worry. But, somehow, the moment your skin made contact with theirs, every doubt you had ever had just washed away. 

Florence felt immensely happy, not only had she finally met her first born, but she got to share the moment with you. Her eyes got watery as she watched you rocking back and forth the tiny human. She couldn't believe you had ever doubted yourself. 

“Robin?”

“Yeah, it means bright, shining.”

“You sure it’s not a marvel character's name?” she playfully asked. 

“I, um…” you trailed off. 

“I like it,” she knew it was a marvel character’s name, but she didn’t care. “Our little Robin,” she smiled at you. 

“Hey, little Robin,” you whispered to the baby, tears burning your eyes.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#florence pugh #mum florence pugh #florence pugh x fem reader #florence pugh x you #florence pugh x y/n #mum florence pugh x reader #florence pugh imagine #pregnant florence pugh #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #requests by lovely anons ‘๑’ #your fav florence pugh blog <3

[thefallennightmare]

Moment of Weakness-nine

*credit to whoever created the gif. found on google/Pinterest *

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Notes: Happy Birthday Bucky Barnes. We all love you <3

Tags(open): @splendidreads @sebsgirl71479 @mdpplgtz03 @pattiemac1 @unaxv @elizacusi-blog @alana4610 @broadwaybabe18 @themayzittcha @playboystark @raajali3 @ozwriterchick @ragamuffin285 @screamingdying @themorningsunshine @kenziekugler22 @calwitch @sebastianstansqueen @stanaddict @stucky-simp03 @sleyeveryday @loustan90 @lyra-black13 @valsworldofcreativity @cjand10 @tesseract69 @batprincess1013 @subwaysurf45 @arsonfrogger @winters1917 @yoruse @5moremin @lipstickandtanqueray @mandijo17

The office was eerily quiet, almost as if I was the only one here but I knew that wasn’t the truth. The closed door behind me said that he was inside with Steve, as they had their morning private meeting with each other. I didn’t let my mind wander too far from the work in front of me because I knew I would be here all day and night if I allowed that to happen. 

I had taken the last few days off after my night with Bucky because I couldn’t face him, afraid that my job was on the line. Thankfully it wasn’t, Bucky made sure of that when I returned to work this morning. We still haven’t seen each other, me coming in while he was in that said meeting with Steve, so I could breathe for a little while. He had a list placed on my desk this morning of what he needed me to do. 

-Pick up dry cleaning-done

-pick up lunch order

-reply to emails-currently working on

-file away papers

-meet with me to talk about what you missed the last few days. 

The last thing on the list I had purposely avoided, not wanting to face Bucky yet. He could have actually wanted to talk about what I missed, work wise, or he could want to talk about what happened between us. And that, I wasn't ready for. 

While I was home, “sick”, all I could think about was that night we shared. Bare, sweaty, bodies moving in tangent with each other. Our movements almost like a slow dance with our moans acting as the music. My entire body felt on fire as those flash images crossed my mind and I bit my lip, wanting to feel him inside me again. Bucky’s lips kissing every inch of skin and leaving his marks all over, days later they still shined bright. 

I did my best to cover them, however, the one on my neck was a bit hard to cover. 

The door clicked open behind me and I stood straighter, trying to block out those memories and continued my work. 

“Hey, you’re back.” 

I looked up towards Steve and gave him a smile, the guilt eating away at my heart. I knew how he felt about me and with how close we became, I couldn’t stop the way I felt so guilty with what happened. 

“Uh, yeah. I had a small cold but feeling a lot better,” I lied. 

Steve smiled while slicking his hair out of his face. “Well, let me know when you head out to grab lunch and I’ll come with you.” 

“Sure,” I nodded. “Oh, Sam is in your office waiting for you. Mentioned something about an errand you two had to run.”

Steve gave my shoulder a squeeze before walking into his own office and left the door opened ajar slightly. 

“Y/N?”

I turned in my chair towards Bucky and my heart began to beat so fast that I couldn’t catch my breath as he stared at me with his bright eyes. 

“Need something?” I asked. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Bucky knew that I had been lying about why I stayed home but didn’t bother to mention it, only keeping up my ruse. 

“Better, thanks for letting me take some time off,” I said. 

He nodded while stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. “Of course. Do you think maybe we could talk?” 

I quickly shook my head. “I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on. Can we do it later?” 

Bucky’s shoulders fell but he nodded again. “Sure. Over lunch?” 

“Yeah, lunch,” I muttered before turning back to my work and did my best to ignore Bucky’s intense eyes. 

With Bucky back behind his own desk, I didn’t miss the way he kept gazing out towards me every so often. There even had been a few times that our eyes would lock and I quickly averted from it. 

Before I knew it, lunch had approached and while I gathered my things to go pick up everyone’s order from the deli down the block, the door to the building opened and her happiness radiated the walls and I sucked in a breath, not thinking I would have to face her yet. 

“Natasha, hi,” I forced a smile. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.” 

Her smile only amplified her beauty and I felt jealous because I knew that I alone couldn’t be enough for Bucky. What we had was a one time thing, it would never be more than that. 

“I’m only here for a few minutes and I’m here to see you.” 

My heart began to beat faster and I swallowed thickly. “About what?” 

Fear set in that she found out about Bucky and I. 

“Bucky is having some of his mob friends over tonight and I thought it would be a great way to make it a party.  But then I realized it would be rude to not invite you,” Natasha said. 

“Oh,” I muttered. 

I racked my brain to figure out an excuse not to go tonight. The guilt I felt around her and Bucky had become a sharp knife in my back that I knew if I went tonight, it would only twist it deeper. 

“Thank you for the invite but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it,” I lied yet again. 

Natasha frowned. “I understand, I thought we could use this night to get to know each other better. You’re working with my husband and I realized that I know nothing about you.” 

My brow raised at her voice. There was something hidden underneath the tone that I didn’t quite understand. 

Was she jealous that I worked so close with Bucky? 

Did she think something was going on between us? 

Or did she know exactly what happened and she was using tonight to call me out on it? 

“Ready for lunch?” Steve walked out of his office but gave Natasha his attention. “Hey, Nat. Need me to bring anything tonight?” 

She nodded towards me. “Maybe Y/N. I’ve invited her but she said she can’t make it.” 

I bit my cheek at her persistence. 

“Yeah, I’ve got a lot of laundry to catch up on from being sick the last few days.” 

Steve gave me a look and I knew he saw straight through my lie. 

“Or maybe she has a hot date tonight,” Natasha observed while pointing to her neck. 

I quickly rubbed a hand over the mark on my own neck, embarrassed that she had noticed.

Steve shifted on his feet. “Do you?” 

“It’s nothing,” I shook my head while avoiding his gaze. 

Natasha snickered. “If you have a hook up planned tonight, Y/N, that’s all you have to say. You don’t need to lie. By the looks of it, it seemed like a good time.” 

“I should really go pick up our lunch,” I spoke. 

I refused to stand there any longer and get grilled by Natasha on what happened with Steve watching me with hurt in his eyes. 

As if the Gods above wanted to torture me even more, Bucky walked out of his office and looked between the three of us, questioning in his own eyes.

“What’s going on?” He wondered. 

Natasha placed a kiss on his cheek and I shifted uncomfortably, something Steve noticed immediately. He looked between Bucky and I, his lips falling open slightly but said nothing. 

“I wanted to invite Y/N tonight but she said she can’t come. I think she has a date planned and she’s keeping it a secret,” Natasha filled Bucky in. 

“Oh, you do?” Bucky questioned with brows raised. 

I rubbed at the mark on my neck. “I don’t.” 

“So come tonight! Steve will be there to keep you company,” Natasha nudged Steve’s shoulder. 

He refused to meet my gaze at first but eventually looked at me. “It’ll be more fun if you come.” 

“Steve’s right,” Bucky spoke. 

My tired gaze fell on him once more. 

“Come by tonight, even if it’s for an hour. Nat put this huge party together and it would mean a lot to her,” Bucky continued. 

I gnawed on my lip and reluctantly agreed. “Of course, for Natasha.” 

She beamed brightly while she clapped her hands together. “Perfect, it starts at eight and Steve will send you the address.” 

“Wonderful,” I grumbled as I gathered my things.

I didn’t bother to wait for Steve, who made no effort to follow, as I hurriedly walked away from the three of them, Bucky continuing to watch me intently. 

The bass from the outdoor speakers vibrated against the bones in my body as I took a small sip of my drink, eyes scanning around the small party. My interpretation of small was different than Natahsa’s. There had to be at least of a hundred people in the backyard of their mansion, not counting whoever was inside. 

I arrived almost twenty minutes ago and even with one drink in, I was ready to leave. This was the last place I wanted to be tonight. Steve wasn’t anywhere in sight and neither was Bucky. I knew no one here and felt so out of place. 

“Thinking of a way to escape?” 

I turned towards the deep voice and breathed in relief. 

“I’d be lying if I said this was my kind of scene,” I admitted to Steve. 

He took a large drink from the beer in his hand. “Let’s give it an hour then we can head to my place for pizza and a movie?” 

A smile broke out on my face. “I would really like that.” 

We talked, just the two of us, for a while and it helped keep my mind from wandering where Bucky was. I could have asked Steve but didn’t want to ruin the lightness of our conversations. At some point, Sam came up to join us and for the first time in a few days, I felt myself again. 

Goosebumps pricked over my skin as I felt someone staring and I peered over my shoulder and felt my breath hitch at the sight. Bucky was standing a few feet from us and watching my every movement with a small smile pulling at his lips. His jacket looked warm and inviting, almost pulling me towards him, but I kept my feet planted firmly by Steve and Sam. Even with his smile, the sadness in Bucky’s eyes made my heart fall. 

“I need another drink,” I said suddenly, hoping that the change of position would stop the burning I felt in my core as I continued to look at Bucky. 

I didn’t bother to wait for Steve and Sam and scurried over towards the outdoor bar and gave my order with a smile. As I waited, fingers drumming over the wood, a body slid up behind me. Warm breath fanned over my ear and I shivered with desire with his deep voice. 

“You look beautiful.” 

I did my best to hold my composure by ignoring his compliment. 

“Thank you,” I smiled at the bartender as he handed me my drink. 

I went to walk past Bucky but his vibranium fingers grasped at my hand to stop me. Our fingers linked for a few seconds before I removed them. 

“Don’t,” I warned in a hush tone in case others around us could hear. 

“Can we talk, please?” He begged. 

I motioned towards his right hand which held a cigarette. “Since when do you smoke?” 

He sighed. “Only when I’m stressed.” 

“What could you possibly be stressed out about?” I scoffed. 

Bucky nodded behind me to Steve and I gave him a firm poke into his chest. “You do not have the right to get jealous of me talking with Steve. I told you that nothing happened between us.” 

“I know,” Bucky said. 

“Also, I don’t want to be with anyone who smokes.” I stated with arms crossed. 

He tossed it to the ground, crushing the cigarette underneath his boot. “All the more reason to quit. But can we talk in private?” 

I shook my head. “There’s nothing to talk about, Bucky. What happened shouldn’t have, you’re married. It was a moment of weakness between us. That’s it.” 

“Not for me,” Bucky disagreed. 

“This cannot happen again,” I pointed between us. “You need to focus on Natasha.” 

“Doll,” he breathed. “You can’t tell me that night didn’t mean something to you. All I can think about is you and how I want to kiss you again.” 

“Don’t!” I seethed, gaining attention from a few people around us. 

I looked around and cursed under my breath, realizing that this wasn’t the place or time to talk about this, even if I didn’t want to. 

“I’m out of here,” I muttered under my breath, walking away from him. 

A bit later, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, taking deep breaths to calm myself. This was the main reason why I didn’t want to come tonight. I knew that Bucky would want to talk and I’d eventually fall back into him because my feelings for him were that intense and deep. 

“Get a hold of yourself, Y/N. He’s a married man.” I groaned to myself as I shut off the light, leaving the bathroom. 

Suddenly a small yell from my lips as I felt myself being pulled into a dark room, body pinned to the wall behind me. Even in the darkness, I noticed the bright eyes immediately and let out a deep breath, knowing that he was the reason I was in the room. 

“Bucky-” I started. 

I was cut off by his lips attacking mine hungrily and after I froze for a second, I melted into him and both of our lips moved together. I moaned into his mouth when his tongue pressed onto mine, my hands snacking around his neck to bring him closer. 

His arms rested underneath the swell of my ass and lifted me into his arms, legs wrapping around him. I felt him leading me towards somewhere in the room and my body was gently placed on what I assumed was a couch, Bucky never breaking the kiss. There was a hint of cigarette smoke on his breath but it was overpowered by the beer I had tasted on his lips.

Bucky’s hips rutted into mine, the hardness of his cock pressing into my thigh, and I bit his lip, wanting more. 

“Stop,” I pushed him away, realizing what we were doing. 

He cupped my cheek but I rolled out from under him, standing to my feet. 

“God, why did you do that!” I bellowed. 

Bucky leaned back into the couch with a sigh. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. The first time I tasted you, I needed more.” 

“I told you, you can’t! It’s not right!” I yelled, the confines of the room we were in blocking it out from whoever was outside. 

“You want this too, doll. The way you kissed me said it all,” Bucky raised to his feet and reached for me. 

I smacked his hands away. “Of course I fucking want it, Bucky! All I want is you but I can’t because again, you’re fucking married!” 

He ran a hand over his chin. “Please stop reminding me.” 

“It’s the truth!” 

Bucky’s lips were on mine yet again but this time, I was stronger and pushed him off, smacking him in the chest. 

“Stop!” 

“I can’t,” Bucky almost whined. “I can’t stay away from you, Y.N.” 

I stared at him while my chest rose and fell with each deep breath as the decision mulled in my mind. 

“You need to try.” 

I left him behind, even if my mind was screaming to go back to him.

#mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes and yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan #moment of weakness-mob!bucky barnes

[bobfloydsbabe]

DEATH THREAT: REVISITED

On November 8th 2022, an anonymous person took issue with a post I made regarding the use of read more on long fics. All I asked in that post was that people used it, and if they didn’t know how, to google it or ask someone how. Simple. It should not have been offensive, and yet, someone took offense and started a tirade against me.

The post in question was this one:

(I know it says drafts, but I did post it here)

I put it in the Top Gun Maverick tags because that's where I spent my time. Usually I wouldn't, but I was fed up with having to scroll past 5k word fics, so I wrote this post. Could I have worded it differently or been nicer? Sure. The ask that followed was this one:

In the next one, they asked me to be kind. I made many of the same points as I did above, as seen here:

This response was clearly not the one they wanted, so they turned to name calling, vile accusations, and inappropriate sexual messages. I'm going to use the read more here to 1. hide the asks I got because they're upsetting and 2. shorten this post. No one wants to scroll forever to get past this.

Some of the asks I received included but were not limited to:

That last one is in reference to a message I answered, asking what evidence they had of me being into bestiality. I also do not have twitter.

This went on for hours, and while I was initially laughing, at some point it turned. I started feeling really upset and anxious about it. I remember shaking. Then came the death threat. It caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting it, and honestly, calling it a death threat might be a little extreme. Nonetheless, the threat of harm shocked me. I replied, trying to give off an air of nonchalance, when in reality, I was freaking out.

After that, I got a few more asks, upset I was calling it a death threat. I started calling it a threat of harm instead, because it felt extreme. After those asks, I turned off the option to send anonymous asks, which I had not done in all the years I’d been on Tumblr. I had to protect my mental health. I reported it to tumblr support and took a few days off the hellsite to give myself time to process.

Eventually, Tumblr got back to me, telling me they were “sorry I had a bad experience with anonymous asks” and told me to block the anons. I was furious. They dismissed not only me, but the threats I’d received. When I sent in my original ticket, I made it clear they could contact me if they needed more information. They never did. I’m still pissed about that. This was before you had to have an account to send anonymous asks, so they could still come back. I had to block five separate asks to get all of them to disappear.

Anonymous asks are currently open, but I'd be lying if I said I don't still get anxious when I see that grey icon in my inbox. I'm still scared they could come back and start up again. I'm finding it easier to turn off anon these days, and I've had to do it several times since then to protect myself further. I won't hesitate to do it again.

If you read this all the way to the end: Thank you for reading. I know this doesn't affect anyone but me, but I wanted to share this post, regardless. I want to thank the people who have been there for me through it all, and the ones who've listened to me talk about it. I appreciate you.

For now, I'm looking forward to celebrating 10 years in recovery from self-harm next week. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#helena rants #anon idiocy #tw death threats #anon hate #personal #i don't know why i posted this #i'll probably delete it #but for now it's here

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

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[allwaswell16]

Annual Writing Self-Evaluation

Thanks for tagging me @kingsofeverything !

1. List of works published this year:

Netflix Original

A Deal

Do You See What I See 

Bitter Ends Turn Sweet (series)

All This Time

On That Note

Ace of Hearts

Crush

Daydream

One

Heart Beat 

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Probably Bitter Ends Turn Sweet. First of all, just knowing there was a song called Chicago on FITF had me shook. Then, the first time I heard it, it was just such a fanfic that the whole story was just right there in my head as soon as the song was over. And I was like...nah. I'm not gonna write a long kid fic, right? RIGHT?? I've written angst before, but writing about a child made me emotional in a way I've never felt while writing in part because I was writing a disabled child. And for that matter I wrote a trans character into this fic as well. But I wanted to write this in a way that made it clear how deeply loved and celebrated these characters were to their families and the people around them. Maybe I made their characters have it unrealistically easy, but it's what I wanted for them just as I want that for my disabled and trans family and friends in real life.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

I wouldn't say I'm not proud of any of them, but the time stamps I wrote for Bitter Ends are just things that didn't fit into the main story. And I feel like there's a reason they didn't, if that makes sense. But I thought it might be fun for anyone who liked the fic to read those bits of it, which is why I published them at all.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

oof I can never find anything. Here's something from Bitter Ends:

Harry shrugged. “Maybe. Gem said it was okay to make mistakes like dancing with the wrong guys.”

Louis nodded, considering. “How about dancing with the right guy?”

Harry’s heart pounded harder, and he wasn’t sure it had anything to do with the dancing. “I don’t know. He didn’t say anything about that.”

He’d now lost Liam amidst the dancers, but it was hard to concentrate on that with Louis this close. Louis’ hand splayed out across his back, keeping him close as the beat slowed. 

They’d both dressed in black. And although Harry’s shirt was filmy with a bit of lace and Louis’ a t-shirt sheer enough to see his tattoos through, they were near enough to one another that Harry couldn’t tell where one fabric ended and another began.

Perhaps he could blame muscle memory on why he lifted his arms and wrapped them around Louis’ shoulders, close enough now to feel Louis’ breath at his neck, cooling his heated skin just there as desire zipped down his spine. 

The bit of scruff still on Louis’ cheeks slid against the bare skin of Harry’s shoulder peeking through where his shirt had slipped down, and Harry was thankful for the volume of the bar blocking out the sound of his moan. The whirl of lights danced across his vision, caught up in this moment with Louis.

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

There's this one for Bitter Ends: What a gift!!! What a wonderful, sweet, tear inducing gift of fabulous writing! Every word, every sentence of story building was exquisite. I could do nothing else but read this from start to finish and will reread it again and again. Max was an inspired character, so real and so loved. Thank you for this.

And this one for Ace of Hearts: I had no idea I loved early 19th century pirate stories as much as I do now. I couldn’t leave a comment until I finished reading all the parts. I don’t remember when I started but I did forgot to eat for awhile. I haven’t read a story with so many twists and well written.

And basically every single one for Do You See What I See because they're all the same thing...people yelling at me when they find out the twist hahahaha

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

No one come for me, but I wouldn't say there's ever a time where it's really hard to do. BUT sometimes it's really hard for me to make time for it.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

I spent YEARS trying to come up with a plot for a Louis/Cillian Murphy fic. Nothing felt right. And then it somehow occurred to me that what I really wanted to write was Louis/Tommy Shelby and once I figured that out the story immediately came to me.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I always like to try my hand at new things, so this year I wrote girl direction for the first time, some new rare pairs, I wrote an advent fic, both my longer fics are kid fics, which is wild to me lol.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

Whoops. Had to come back and add this in. I just hope to find more time to write and keep finding more challenges for myself.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

If you looked through my author's notes this year, you'd definitely notice how often I thanked @nouies I couldn't have done half of what I did this year without Lou. Her encouragement and making fic posts and reading things over for me helped me enormously. To have someone supporting and keeping me going was just everything. And always @louandhazaf for betaing my fics and always being excited to read whatever new thing I've come up with to write! Thank you x a million, Nic!

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

lol yes. hmmm where to start...Bitter Ends has a lot of my son and the things my family likes to do in Chicago in it. Do You See What I See is based on a FB ad I saw that I found hysterically funny and also based on the animals that run around in the wooded ravine behind my house. Daydream takes place in a coffee shop that I like to go to. And Heart Beat takes place in a fictional version of my hometown, has a fictional version of my cat in it, and has a plot inspired by me spending a lot of time in a converted cathedral listening to my son play the drums.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

I think I say the same thing every year...READ!!! It's important of course to make time for the actual writing. And writing as much as possible if your goal is to become better at it, but analyzing other people's writing is how a lot of people grow as a writer. What is it about your favorite novels/fics that you love? Read or reread them with a critical eye at what exactly the writer is doing so you can try it out in your own writing.

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I (think??? lol) I'm only signed up to write for @1dalphalouisfest but I'll probably sign up for @1domegaverseficfest too. And obviously I'll write for my own fest @louisrarepairfest I have this soulmates fic that I've been simmering in my brain for a while and I just recently started to figure a few things out for it. So it may or may not fit into one of those fests.

14. Tag three writers whose answers you’d like to read. ;)

@jacaranda-bloom @nouies @lululawrence and anyone else who wants to do this just say I tagged you!

*All answers should be about works published in 2023

Past years: 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020 , 2021 , 2022

#self eval #self eval 2023 #writing things

[bullet-prooflove]

The Beauty of the End Part 5: History - Michael 'Riz' Ariza x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life, @danzer8705 @mysoulisasunflower @vannabanana1995 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @sxmmarie @queeniesdiary @briefpersonenemy @creativitybeware @genius2050 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @oureternalbond @baybaybear1 @@thanossexual

Part One: Nashville - Riz makes a decision that affects your relationship in Nashville.

Part Two: Reckless - Taza and Neron realise that Riz is spiralling.

Part Three: Walk The Line - Taza calls you to get the truth about what happened between you and Riz.

Part 4: Bright - Vicki reminds Riz it's not all about him.

You don’t pick up the phone when he calls and Riz doesn’t blame you. When it goes straight to voicemail he doesn’t even bother to leave a message, he simply hangs up the phone and sighs. He tries to plan out his next steps in the shower but every avenue he looks down comes with a problem.

Access.

It’s not just as simple as picking up the phone anymore, if you block his calls, it’s not as if he can just turn up at your house. He’s lost track of your schedule over the past few months, he’s not even sure which city you’re in.

Those tickets at the box office, he would bet his life they aren’t even in his name anymore. Even then they only gave him access to the venue, with security the way it is, he wouldn’t be able to get anywhere hear you. He presses his palms to the cool tiles and hangs his head under the hot stream of water in an attempt to drown out the noise that resonates through his head.

He’s fucked up.

He’s ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to him because he can’t face the prospect of being rejected by someone that he loves.

He knows what this is about, but he hates the fact that it still fucking affects him even after all these years. The scars, they’re buried deep underneath the ridges of his skin but that time he spent in the orphanage in Mexico still stings. He knows his mother did what she thought was best, twenty-two with three kids, no man in the picture, too many mouths to feed… It wasn’t abandonment not really.

He was fifteen when he was cut loose, a few bucks to his name and a backpack. He knew his mother had a sister in the US so he’d made the trip under the cover of darkness and ended up here in Santo Padre, Vicki had just started up the brothel at that point. A wayward nephew had never factored into her plans. She had had taken him in anyway, putting him to work doing anything that needed doing around the house. Turning rooms over between clients, helping with the bar, keeping the appointment books and balancing the accounts.

He’d been a dropout ever since kindergarten, at least in the brothel he was productive. He’d learned from the best how to please a woman, how to listen to the sounds of her body, the heady echo of her moans. For the briefest moment in those exchanges, he felt like somebody loved him, that somebody wanted him. He forgot that love in his world was transactional. It took him a long time to accept that Vicki kept him around because she cares about him and not out of obligation.

“You’re surprisingly well adjusted.” You had told him as the two of you sat in the yard, sharing a spliff as the sun went down. Your feet were resting in his lap, his thumb caressing the hollow of your ankle before he leant over and handed you the joint.

“The MC helped balance me out.” He told you when he settled back into his seat. “It gave me the thing that I was missing, showed me that love and loyalty doesn’t have to come with stings. I think I have Taza to thank for that. He sponsored me, took me under his wing, he was the first person who really saw me for who I was and gave me that encouragement to grow as person and explore who I am.”

“He’s your MC dad.” You told him as you took a drag and he had laughed because he’s never thought about it like that. Taza’s the guy that calls him on his shit, sits with him when he’s low, he’s the one that taught him how to play guitar, that shared his love of music.

Taza always been there when Riz has needed it, despite the fact that Riz has done everything he can to fight it recently.

“Fuck.” He mutters, throwing his head back and using his palm to wipe the water from his face. Even when he’s an asshole, Taza’s still there, trying to help him put the pieces back together.

He’s barely set foot out of the shower when he hears the knock on his door. He almost ignores it. He doesn’t want to see anyone else tonight, he wants to get into his bed and scroll through pictures of the two of you on his phone the same way he has every other night since he ended things. He’s still clutching the towel to his waist when he answers the door and sees you standing there.

You still look as beautiful as the first day he saw you, that black silk dress hugging your form. Brown boots and a matching leather jacket thrown over your shoulders. Your suitcase is propped up next to you. In the background he sees Taza and Creeper idling in the van, Taza gives him a nod before he turns his head to Creeper and the two of them pull away from the curb.

He’s thought about what he wants to say so much over the past couple of hours, however now that you’re here the words just won’t come out. As your gaze shifts to the towel slung low around his hips, he realises this he’s still standing there at the front door, dripping wet and wearing next to nothing. It’s you that breaks the silence.

“Can I come in?”

Love Riz? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#michael riz ariza #riz x you #riz x reader #riz mayans #riz ariza #michael ariza x reader #michael riz ariza x reader #michael ariza #antonio jaramillo

[undercoverpena]

I have to ask (only if you're willing to talk about it), how do you cope with hate...? I got the feeling from your last answer and tags that this was not the first time. Do you have any tips on how to self-regulate? How do you stay so kind-hearted & compassionate?

The reason why i'm asking is that I'm relatively new here and dread the day I receive hate mail.

Much love to you, I adore the way you write and lift others❣️

- Fellow cancerian who doesn't want to grow too hard a shell

hello fellow 🦀 thank you for the compliment on my writing and lifting others (honestly, I just feel too much and I have to thrust it on people haha)

and honestly I don’t mind answering, I don’t really have like a hard and fast answer so I apologise for the ramble under the cut:

it depends on what is said. which I know is wildly unhelpful, but it’s the truth. the one today was like…. silly? to me anyway. it wasn’t necessary, it was just—oh let’s kick someone. and like, I’m not just saying this, but I laughed and I honestly was like, jesus you feeling okay anon, like damn.

but, I’m nothing but honest (where I can be) and there have been some that have fucking hurt. like I’ve cried my eyes out—which is a lot for saying this is fun, and a hobby.

in my corner though, I have great people. one of my friends is like my rock, and she allows me to send her the more crazy ones. and we sorta have this process of talking about it first before I make a decision about deleting/responding. for me, it helps drafting my feelings or talking them out, just so I can get rid of that ‘initial’ reaction. because sometimes I just wanna shout and tear someone a new one, but that means letting them get a rise outta me? y’know.

so once I’ve done that, we normally fall on the deleting side, because it’s important to me to create a space that I feel safe in, that I’m proud of, and that others know they can come into and also feel okay. you having a bad day and seeing that I’ve been kicked down isn’t going to do anything except us both feel poopy. so unless I can be sassy, let it roll off my back, I try now not to respond.

to return back to chirpy, annoyingly nice Jo 😏 I spend time with people i love: fandom, irl and who I live with. I may go on a walk with my dog. I may put my headphones on and blast music (celine dion power ballads hit different), and lastly, I’ll churn it into something writing wise.

writing is what helps me regulate all of my emotions. I feel so much, always have done, always will. but writing helps.

unfortunately, there’s always a chance I’ll get hate. because like irl, we don’t gel with everyone. which is why I wish people would just unfollow, block and move on, but i can't control that nor can i guarantee the former will happen. so I just try to create a space I’m happy to be in, like this overtly pink blog with all you lovely lot who follow me as I throw you in fandom after fandom.

lastly, my friend said this earlier and I’m going to quote her (she’s going to love this) “you literally get what you see with you” and she’s right. it’s not me staying so kind and compassionate, that’s just who I am (which sounds big headed, like omg I’m amazing) but I just care. and on the days where being “me” feels hard, that’s when I stay off here. because it means I need some me time to get back to a good place.

I am not sure if this was helpful, 🦀 anon (this is what I’m calling you, hope that’s okay). but my dm is always open, and so is my inbox.

pls try not to let fear stop you from sharing with the world, don’t give the prospective haters any chance to steal your shine 🩷

#asked and answered #🦀 anon #Jo gives terrible advice #resource: anons

[indiaalphawhiskey]

☀️ Sunday Snippet

I know I said I wouldn’t share any more snips for fear of giving the entire cow away piecemeal, but I’m still trying to find my motivation and mojo again, and this is helping. Thank you @crinkle-eyed-boo for the tag!

*

“I’ll play.”

Though that had definitely, definitely been Harry’s morbidly laid back voice and equally laid back shrug, the words still had Louis turning to him, his brow raised in question, because… what?

“What?”

Harry’s arms were crossed over his chest as he shrugged again and repeated, “I’ll play,” like he hadn’t just volunteered to engage in a strenuous competitive activity with a group of professional athletes who probably weren’t even old enough to know George Michael had been in Wham!.

And, maybe, if Louis hadn’t been preoccupied by the words coming out of Harry’s mouth or the images of all the ways this would end in a hospital, he might’ve noticed a hint of… something not all that chill in the green of Harry’s eyes; something akin to a rather… threatening… glint of competition.

“Harry…” Louis tried to warn as the volleyball team grinned widely at the challenge, stepping back into the sun and gesturing for Harry to follow them to the net over their shoulders.

Realizing Harry had neither a shirt nor flip flops to delay him from his now impending hip replacement, Louis stood in front of him, blocking the beach from view, hoping to keep him in place and urge him to see sense.

“Harry Styles,” he implored, his arms crossed over his chest disapprovingly, “you cannot be serious.”

“And yet…” Harry said nonchalantly, smirking as he readjusted his sunglasses onto his nose.

“Harry, they’re Olympians. You can’t play beach volleyball with Olympians that are younger than our children.”

If Louis had hoped the words he was very strategically emphasizing would dissuade him… well, they did not.

“First of all,” Harry said, maneuvering past Louis, “potential Olympians.” His grin made Louis want to smack him. “They haven’t qualified yet.”

Though he said nothing, Louis turned his body to make sure Harry wouldn’t miss the way he audibly rolled his eyes. Because that was definitely the point I was trying to make, he thought.

“And second…” Harry announced dramatically, pointedly ignoring Louis’ incredibly visible disapproval, one foot already past the shade of the tent. He looked over his shoulder and tipped his sunglasses down to peer at Louis over the edge of them as he said, “…watch me.”

Louis narrowed his eyes, but by the time he had processed the little bonus wink Harry had left him, he was already jogging up to the players, the swish-swish-swish of his tiny, tiny shorts seemingly mocking Louis in their owner’s stead.

“Fine, but don’t come crying to me when you—blast,” he swore, realizing Harry was now too far away for his threat to carry. He threw his hands up. “Why? Just… why?”

The question hung in the air for a beat before he sighed, resigned to watch the game that was already picking up in earnest.

It took twenty minutes, but after two impressive (but very unnecessary) dives and innumerable furtive glances over Harry’s shoulder to check that Louis was, in fact, watching, a niggling and familiar feeling began to descend on Louis.

His eyes narrowed in thought as he tried his best to place it, feeling himself dig deep into the recesses of rather, er, vintage memories.

But it wasn’t until he saw it – saw Harry Edward Fucking Styles’ mouth set itself into a grim line of determination right before he gifted Cheeky with an all-too-aggressive volleyball straight to the face, his little ‘Oops! Oh my God! I’m so sorry!’ faux-pology holding the kind of legitimately evil lilt to it that Louis hadn’t heard since baby Noah had vomited on that overly flirty Starbucks barista back in 1990 – that it clicked.

Harry’s jealous.

🐚 More from the GAPT AU.

#GAPT AU #GAPT snippets #fathers with benefits au