#the way this has been half done in my drafts for ages

[dcvilment]

@cxpt​ sent: “Don’t worry about it. I was already awake.” NIGHTMARE AND SLEEPING MEME

Dreams were odd when you lost your sight so young. It was not often he actually 'saw' anything in his dreams really. Mostly they tended to be audible for Matt mixed with shapes made from twisted memories with his radar vision. He used to see images, faces, when he was still a teenager but those types of dreams faded away for the most part as he'd gotten older. Not entirely and perhaps whatever remained of visual aspects of dreams made them all the more horrifying when they were nightmares. Pieces that just almost made sense, giving an utmost surrealness to anything he was able to visualize. The rest were feelings and sounds mostly. 

That early morning tore Matthew from his sleep very suddenly and he jolted up with a shout, sitting up on -- what felt like a couch, hand clutching at his chest. Labored breaths came harsh at first, heartbeat beating in his ears like drums as he blindly turned his gaze. The quick realization he was not in his own apartment was a bit alarming. It was his ears he was turning more so of course, not his gaze, picking up another sound of drums. More specifically beating that sounded like a Sousa March to him. A familiar heartbeat. With that, Matthew’s groggy mind quickly pieced together where he was, remembering who he’d been working with previous that night. 

Shuffling from another room had brought Rogers over to him quickly and Matt’s face reddened a bit at the realization he might have woken the man up. He muttered a quick apology before Steve eased his mind a bit with a “don’t worry about it. I was already awake.”

Murdock nodded and let out a slow breath, rubbing at his chest a bit. Damn. That was kind of embarrassing. This had been happening with more frequency lately, messing with what little sleep Matthew was able to manage with both a day and a night job. “Dang. We sure had a long night,” he sighed, feeling for his glasses on the coffee table.

#the way this has been half done in my drafts for ages #answered asks #cxpt #rp

[puckinghischier]

Nervous

Jack Hughes x fem!reader, smitten!Jack

summary: request for jack and reader on their wedding day

notes: this is my first time writing anything for jack and i literally had so much fun with it. i hope you guys like it 😌

[2.6k]

~

Jack had never been this nervous before. Not during nationals games, not on his draft day, not on the night of his rookie debut, and not in any circumstance that he can remember. Ever. He’s not usually the type to dwell on feelings of nerves, trusting his skill and his ability to focus on the task at hand to get the job done.

Today, though, is the most nerve-wracking day of his life. It’s his wedding day, for crying out loud. The day he gets to marry the girl that has been there for every major event of his life. The girl that has never missed a Devils home game. The girl that he’s pretty sure his family loves more than him. The girl that has stuck by him through every hardship and crazy hockey season so far. His girl. The girl he gets to make his wife.

Hell, he wasn’t even this nervous when he asked you to marry him. He recalls the day as if it happened mere hours ago, not a year and a half earlier.

“Jack, where are we going? I thought you said you had an event with the team tonight? You’re going to be late,” you ask, noticing you’re driving further and further away from the city.

You had been doing laundry, trying to get ahead on some chores you had been neglecting, when Jack had come into the living room and told you to put your shoes on, he wanted to take you somewhere. You had asked him where, and if you needed to change, but he simply shook his head no and told you it was a surprise. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Jack. You just assumed he found a new ice cream place he thought you would love, or some quaint little coffee shop he knew you’d like.

You didn’t think anything of it until you found yourself watching the city disappear into the distance almost forty-five minutes later, no destination in sight.

“We’re almost there, darling. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours,” is all he said, taking his eyes off the road for only a moment to flash one of his soft smiles in your direction before continuing to drive.

You sit in the comfortable silence, a slow country ballad playing softly on the radio. Jack’s hand resting on your thigh adding a much-needed warmth to your body, not having grabbed a jacket before he dragged you out of your shared apartment. You watch the road around you become surrounded by trees, admiring the greenery that seems so hard to come by in the city.

Before you realize it, too lost in your own thoughts, Jack is turning off of the paved road you were traveling onto a dirt road, clouds of dust billowing behind the car. You lean forward a bit, trying to take in the scenery to find any sort of clue as to where you were. You’re just about to ask where he’s taking you, yet again, when you see the most beautiful scene appear through the windshield.

At the end of the road stood a large red barn, aged in all the right ways. The red was slightly faded, showcasing the years of sun damage and there were pieces of the shingled roof missing, lost in the wind who knows how long ago. Off to the left of the barn was a large area surrounded by a wooden fence, a few horses grazing on the bright green grass. The sun was just beginning to set, causing one side of the barn to be coated in golden sunlight, the other side blanketed in a shadow. As Jack turned the car to enter the field where the barn sat, you noticed the obscene number of lights strung high into the trees covered by the shadow of the barn, giving the effect that little drops of sunlight were dripping from the limbs.

“Jack…what- where are we?” You ask him, disbelief lacing your tone.

“Just a little place I stumbled across with Luke one day. We were out for a drive, just wanting out of the city for a few hours. Found this place and instantly thought of you. Knew I had to bring you here,” he reveals, parking the car and turning off the engine.

Jack opens his door to get out of the car and quickly moves to open yours, taking your hand while leading the two of you over to the forest of lights. You’re so busy looking up at the sight in the trees that you miss the large, wooden arch set up in the middle of the two biggest trees in the mini forest. There were a few hay-bales on each side of the arch, large bouquets of white daisies placed all over the bales, with some even bunched around the top corners of the square arch.

Once you take in the scene in front of you, you turn your head to look at Jack, finding his eyes already on you.

“Jack, you have about three seconds to tell me what’s going on here,” you calmly tell him, even though your stomach felt like it was doing summersaults.

“I told you, I wanted to show this place to you. Thought you’d like it.” His lips curled into an amused smile once he noticed the glare on your face, knowing you were calling his bluff.

“I wanted to show you this place, because I knew you’d like it. Because I know you. How lucky I am to know you,” he begins, slowly moving you forward until you’re standing directly in front of the arch.

“How lucky I am that I’m the person you chose to trust with your heart. How lucky I am to be able to come home to you after a hard day. How lucky I am to be the recipient of your kindness and your love. How lucky I am to bask in your happiness and your spirit day after day. How lucky I am that you put up with the crazy world I live in, and do it without complaint.”

Your hands were starting to shake at this point, eyes watering.

“What I did to deserve all of this, I’ll never know. But I know I’ll never take it for granted. I’ll never take you for granted. And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend every day of the rest of our lives telling you how thankful I am to whatever celestial being lead me to you,” Jack pauses, dropping to his knee and fishing around in his pocket for the velvet box he’s had hidden in a pair of old skates in the closet for months.

“You are pure sunshine, shining light on every single person you meet. Y/N Y/L/N, please, let me live the rest of my life sunburnt. Marry Me.”

That was the easy part. Asking you to marry him was the quickest and easiest decision Jack had ever made in his life. He hadn’t thought twice when he called Luke on a random Thursday afternoon, telling him he needed to help him run some “errands”, driving to the nearest jeweler as soon as Luke sat in his passengers seat. Didn’t even hesitate when he called your best friend, asking if you had ever talked about what your favorite diamond cut was. Not a nerve in sight when he flew out to meet your parents to ask for their blessing two months before proposing, claiming he was just making a quick trip to visit some friends.

So why? Why was he so nervous today? He’s been looking at himself in the mirror for twenty minutes now, worried that his bow tie is crooked, or that his hair looks too messy. He didn’t know why he was so focused on his appearance. You’ve seen him at his worst. You’ve been there to take care of him after far too many drinks on a night out celebrating a win, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, head buried in the closest toilet. You’ve seen him after a brutal game, face red from exertion and weird imprints all over his body from his gear. You’ve seen him when he broke down after his first loss during his rookie year, putting all the blame on himself, holding him in your arms as he sobbed in your kitchen.

He knew you didn’t care if a few hairs were out of place, or if his tie was a centimeter too far to the left. But he did. He cared, because this was the most important day of his life, and you deserved for him to look his best. You deserved for him to make sure everything was perfect.

Jack is pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door, Luke and Quinn making their way into the room.

“Ready, Rowdy?” Quinn asks, going to stand behind Jack in the mirror.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jack responds, turning to look at his two brothers, forcing a smile that’s supposed hide all of his nervous emotions.

“Are you sure? Why do you look like you’re about to vomit, then?”

“I don’t? Do I? Oh god, what if she thinks there’s something wrong when she sees me? How do I make myself look like I’m not gonna hurl all over her dress. Luke, do I really look like I’m gonna blow chunks?” Jack frantically asks, looking between the two brothers, turning back around to look at himself in the mirror once again.

“Jack, breathe, man. You look fine. Luke was just being Luke. He doesn’t look like he’s going to vomit, right, Luke?” Quinn attempts to calm Jack, glaring at Luke.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean it. Sorry, Jack. You look fine. She’s probably gonna want to jump your bones or some shit. You look great.” Luke blurts, trying to not only escape the wrath of his eldest brother, but to keep Jack from actually vomiting.

“Okay, not what I meant but whatever works, I guess.” Quinn sighs, placing his hands on Jack’s shoulders to turn him back around.

“Listen, everything’s going to be fine. We just went to see Y/N, she’s nervous just like you are. I don’t know why, you’re both so painfully obvious with how much you love each other. There’s nothing for you to worry about. She loves you, man. More than I’ve seen someone love another person. As long as you’re standing there waiting on her at the end of the aisle, you could be covered in dog shit for all she cares. She just wants to see you. She just wants to marry you.”

Jack stares at his older brother, letting the words sink in. His thoughts drift to you, only three doors down, standing in your dress looking into the mirror just like he is, freaking out over things that don’t truly matter to him. He thinks about how you could walk down the aisle, hair un-brushed, pajamas still on, slippers on your feet and he would still be ecstatic to see you.

“You’re right, Q. Of course you’re right. I knew I chose you to be my best man for a reason,” Jack chuckles, feeling his nerves settle a bit.

“I know I’m right. I know you. And I know Y/N. As long as the two of you leave here today with the same last name, everything else could go wrong and you would still be the happiest couple I know,” Quinn removes his hands from Jack’s shoulders.

“But, nothing is going to go wrong, because Mom has been out there running around like a madwoman to make sure everything is in place. The only thing left is to make sure you get to the altar. Which is what we were sent here to do,” Luke chimes in, trying to assure his brother one last time.

“Alright. Yeah. I guess it’s time, huh?”

“It’s time, Rowdy. And it’s been a long time coming.” Quinn pats Jack on the back, the three brothers making their way towards the door that was left open.

Jack smiles at his brother’s statement, knowing you’re just as much a part of his brother’s lives as you are his. You watch every single one of Quinn’s hockey games (as long as he’s not playing at the same time as Jack and Luke) and scream loud enough for the neighbors to complain. You were there at Jack’s side for Luke’s draft day, just as proud, if not more, of the youngest Hughes. You always invite Luke over for a post-game dinner, knowing how tired he is after games and wanting to make sure he gets a meal before he goes home and claims he’s too tired to eat. He knows you hold a special place in his mom’s heart, too. Her claim that you’re the daughter she never had proving to be true through this whole process, knowing she’s been involved in every step of this wedding right along side your mom and yourself.

Before Jack knows it, the ceremony is beginning and he’s being given the signal to make his way to the altar, standing next to his groomsmen as he waits for you to walk through those doors.

As he looks out over the crowd, he finds himself growing nervous once again. Did he put on enough cologne? Did he bring the right kind? What if he wasn’t wearing the one you told him was your favorite? Did he brush his teeth? What if he kisses you for the first time as your husband and his breath tastes like the burger he had for lunch? Oh god, what if you don’t want to kiss him because he has burger breath?

Quinn can sense the nervous energy radiating off of his brother once again. He places his hand on Jack’s back, giving him a few pats to let him know he’s right there next to him. That everything’s going to be okay.

Jack looks over at his brother only briefly before he hears the unmistakable tune of “In Case You Didn’t Know” by Brett Young start playing through the speakers. It’s Jack’s song for you. He plays it all the time when you’re in the car together, not even trying to be subtle. He loves to send it to you when he’s on the road, letting you know he’s thinking about you. There was absolutely no question in your mind as to what song you were going to choose when your mom asked what you wanted to walk down the aisle to.

He snaps his attention to the double doors that open at the other end of the large room. His stomach is in knots, really hoping he doesn’t actually look like he’s about to puke, because he sure feels like it right now.

As he watches the first flash of white make an appearance in the doorway, he knows he’s a goner.

You step into his full view, hand wrapped around your father’s arm, looking around at the various guests for only a split second before your eyes meet his. Jack swears, all time stops in that second. He can barely see through the tears that well in his eyes, completely in awe of you. You match his gaze, forcing yourself to keep the tears from dropping, not wanting to have mascara streaks running down your face before you even get to the altar.

The two of you simply stare at one another for what seems like an eternity. An unspoken declaration of love passed between one another in a simple glance. Your father having to tug on your arm slightly, forcing you to step forward, too lost in Jack for you to remember where you were and what was currently taking place.

As you start to walk down the aisle, every step bringing you towards Jack, towards the rest of your life with him, the feeling of calmness washes over his body. You’re here. You’re his. And you’re everything he has ever wanted and more. It’s in this moment, watching the rest of his life walk towards him, smile on her face, a single tear slipping down her cheek, Jack Hughes has never been less nervous in his life.

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #luke hughes #quinn hughes #new jersey devils #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey #nhl x reader #nhl blurb #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl players #nhl #nhl hockey

[alchemistc]

an: I was cleaning out my drafts and ran into this nearly-finished piece of two disasters having their first kiss. Enjoy.

the way you feel when you kiss him for the first time like fire within your bones like your soul has returned to the water like every part of you that came from a dead star is alive again

Here’s the thing. So. Like.

He’s kissing Eddie Munson, tongue and everything, hands digging into his crazy fucking hair, face twisted sideways because they’d been sitting there next to each other, close enough that their hips were touching, and Eddie was gesturing with both hands thrown wide, so that every once in a while his hand smacked Steve’s chest on accident and he murmured a quick apology before going back to his story, and Steve fucking loved listening to him rant and rave about whatever he had a bug up his ass about on any given day, he loved it so much and it seemed like the thing to do when you loved something about someone so much it made your chest tight and your head a little fuzzy.

Steve twists his head and slots his tongue over Eddie’s lips and Eddie makes a noise that Steve feels down to his fucking toes and he nips, just a bit, swallows up Eddie’s gasp and curls his fingers around his neck and licks into his mouth.

First kisses are usually either tentative or chaotic, and this one is sloppy as all get out but it’s not – it’s good. It’s so fucking good Steve thinks he could happily fucking die right this second and he wouldn’t even be mad about it. Eddie’s teeth slide along Steve’s lower lip when he sucks said lower lip into his mouth and Steve hums and blows a breath out through his nose and fleetingly imagines their entire lives expanding out before them – tables that for another day when he’s done more than make out with Eddie in the woods behind his house.

Eddie pulls back, and Steve chases, a bit, blinks his eyes back open with a pout. “You. What. You?”

It’s – Steve’s done this whole song and dance with half the girls in his age group in Hawkins, rarely ever felt this buzzing under his skin. The desperate urge to claw his way into Eddie’s chest is burning him. That’s…not the usual reaction he gets when he kisses someone.

“What the hell, Harrington? What the fuck?”

And like… okay. So. He’s had crushes before. He’s been in fucking love before and he fucking knows what it feels like and he knows what it means when someone looks at you that way that Eddie looks at him and.

“Fuck, uh… Shit, sorry man. Yeah. Should have, uh…whoops?”

“Whoops?”

Eddie’s on his feet then, his limbs akimbo as he throws his arms out, gesturing vaguely in Steve’s direction, looking at Steve like he’s grown like, three extra heads. Which. Okay so maybe he could have done better at like, explaining what the fuck he was doing but Eddie was so fucking hot when he got really in the zone with some rant or other and Steve’s been like, waiting for him.

“You can’t just go around kissing people, man!”

“I thought you were gay!” Steve says, like that explains a damn fucking thing, and Eddie whirls on him, wild eyed, like Steve’s just shouted some tightly kept secret to the world and… yeah. Alright. Fair.

“I thought you were the straightest fucking dude in America, Steve, what the fuck?”

“Oh,” Steve says, because that, yeah. That tracks. Okay. So. Yeah, he can work with this. 

He runs a jittery hand through his air, glances up at Eddie through a few strands that cut loose from the hairspray. “Yeah uh, so I guess like, no? Chicks are like, great but then here you are being so fucking adorable I wanna like, put you in my fucking pocket to keep you safe and like, take you out on a date and, I don’t know, suck your cock or something. Which is.” 

He’s rambling now, doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

“Okay so like I guess I didn’t really think about the ramifications of this before I fucking went for it but I have been thinking about your lips on my lips for way longer than I have been acknowledging to myself and you weren’t fucking doing anything about it and I just thought I could. Do something about it. So um…no. Not. Not straight.” 

Steve imagines, for a moment, Hawkins High jocks fading out of the shadows to beat the shit out of him, bible thumping mothers intent on letting him know his sins will destroy the country and land him straight in hell, his own father telling him he won’t have a fag for a son. Feels really fucking shitty about it for about thirty seconds and then remembers he’s saved the world at least four times and internally tells them all to go fuck themselves. 

“Hey, is there a word for that? Liking both? Do you – fuck, is there like, a handbook? Do you even know? Did – but then you’re – I mean I definitely for sure got the feeling you and Robin have more in common than just being really great at saving the world, also you for sure kissed me back and – holy shit Robin’s gonna be pissed you found out before she did.”

Eddie stares at him in abject horror for about thirty seconds, but it’s not – it’s not judgy, at least, it’s more like Steve looks at Robin when she word vomits. “Jesus H Christ did you just speed run gay panic?” Which – Robin has explained that before and if Eddie knows about it then he probably also is not…not gay.

“I don’t think I’m strictly gay!” Steve says, his voice a little higher than he’d like but Eddie is pacing now, which. Not conducive to more kissing, and it’s literally all Steve wants to be doing right now. “It might not even be dudes in general, I haven’t gotten any further than you!”

“What the fuck, Harrington?” And pacing be damned, Steve hops up and cages Eddie in again, leans forward for a kiss because he’s not, like, saying no, he’s just confused because he didn’t think Steve was into it and kissing will definitely help him figure it out. Only he rolls his head back, away from Steve’s, shoulders and neck rolling back. The rest of him stays, though, and Steve slots his hands on Eddie’s narrow waist and stares at him. 

“I’m like, super into you, Eddie, and unless I’m suddenly really fucking bad at reading signals you’re also into me.”

Eddie leans forward, rolls his forehead against Steve’s. It’s nice. Not as nice as the kissing had been but…yeah, he’s cool with this. Eddie huffs out a breath of laughter, a self-deprecating little chortle that Steve recognizes and wants to dash away. “I’ve been trying really hard not to throw those signals. Just. Just so you know.”

“You’re really bad at it,” Steve tells him, fingers digging a bit into his side now, his left hand sliding towards Eddie’s back, and he doesn’t really think about it when he exerts a bit of force to drag Eddie a little closer. “To be like, fully clear here. I’m not… I haven’t been misreading, correct?”

“Fuck,” Eddie says, those wide dark eyes holding Steve’s. “This is insane. People don’t just wake up one day and go ‘hey I’m actually totally attracted to my own gender and I have literally zero bad feelings about that’ – people kill themselves about it.”

“Nearly died enough times to know I don’t care for it,” Steve tells him, and he really, really wants to fucking kiss him again but probably Eddie needs a second. “Listen, do you like me or not, because if not I am seriously overstepping right now and I don’t actually want to make this weird.”

“This is so fucking weird, man,” Eddie says but then he’s curling his fingers into the end of Steve’s shirt and fisting it there before Steve has a chance to draw back and respect his boundaries, like he’s holding himself back from more but not quite ready to let go. Steve follows his lead. “Did Robin say something?”

“Robin has been literally zero help,” Steve admits, because she really has been fucking useless and cagey and completely unwilling to give him any idea if this whole thing is reciprocated or just a fully fucking unrequited crush. “I am actually pretty emotionally intelligent, so I figured…” God he’s giving Steve that look. Again. “Vibes were there.”

“Vibes.” Eddie says, like he wants to bash his brains in. “You… you just threw all caution to the wind on fucking vibes.”

“Vibes are a thing!”

Eddie curls the hand not already fisting in Steve’s shirt around his waist, his long fingers catching at the stripe of skin exposed by the pull of his shirt. Every thought in Steve’s head feels like it’s centered right there, where he can feel Eddie’s rings warm against his skin.

Steve is like, 97.3 percent certain at this point that he hasn’t just ruined a decently important friendship, and he really, really does want to return to that zenith of his tongue in Eddie’s mouth, so he rolls his head again, nosing at Eddie’s cheek, reaching for his jaw.

Eddie shoves him back – slowly, regretfully almost. 

“Give me a fucking second, Harrington.”

“Sure. Yeah.” 

Even as Eddie goes back to pacing Steve feels good about this. Eddie Munson is probably a lot more accepting of things than most of the assholes in Hawkins but he has yet to tell Steve to go fuck himself and he seems more…overwhelmed than anything else. Surprised. He had just admitted he thought Steve didn’t go for that thing. Had he thought about it, beyond a passing ‘Steve the Hair Harrington digs the ladies’?

Jesus. He’s so fucking embarrassing. Even in his own goddamn brain.

Eddie whirls on him, opens his mouth. Shuts it and takes a few pointed steps further away from Steve. Steve very much hates that, but – time. Space. He can manage that. He takes the opportunity to enjoy the pull of Eddie’s jeans over his ass. 

Holy shit, Steve thinks to himself as he ogles the other man, holy shit he’s so very much not straight and it’s taking every ounce of willpower to give Eddie his fucking second. 

“You’re a fucking psycho,” Eddie says, and it’s probably aimed at Steve even though he still hasn’t actually turned back to look at him again. “You fully understand that what you just did screams absolute lunatic, right?”

“The – which part, exactly?”

“Steve, what if I wasn’t gay?”

It’s – kind of a sad question, if he’s being honest, because he’s suspected he likes dudes for maybe two weeks, even if it’s been nagging at him for literal months now, but he’s been that shitty kid who called people queer like it was the dirtiest word in the book, and he’s well aware at this point how fucking scary it is for anyone who is the least bit not ‘normal’ by societies standards. Especially if it’s actually true.

“I mean, I assume you’d probably give me a lot of shit and I would spend a good month too mortified to look at you before you let me off the hook?” But that question gets a little closer to the heart of it, the one thing Steve’s still a little worried about. “But…you are?”

“How the fuck did you even know?”

“The vibes!” He wiggles his fingers at that, widens his eyes like that will help Eddie understand. “And, you know. The general feeling every time you look at me like you’re half a second from eating me alive.”

“I do not!” Eddie says, a little scandalized, a little like he’s been caught out. 

“You totally do. You have…very expressive eyes.” This is new. Just balls to the wall flaying honesty, right off the bat, no hiding behind a slick smile and a clever little wink. What even is flirting, Steve thinks. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I fully thought you were gonna bend me over a table at Gary’s party last weekend.”

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie says, only he’s still not denying it, and he’s turning those same round shining eyes on Steve and – yeah. That is not a platonic fucking look. “I’m gonna take, like, three steps towards you right now. Can you. Not fucking attack me when I get there?”

“Yeah. Sure. Totally.” Robin and Nancy once ganged up on him to tell him he was basically a golden retriever in human form, and he feels every inch one as Eddie takes long, measured steps towards him. If he had a tail he’d be wagging it so fucking hard his ass would be wiggling. 

“Full disclosure,” Eddie tells him at a step and a half in. “I was actually thinking about getting on my knees and sucking you off until your soul left your body, at Gary’s party, last weekend.” Steve bites his lip, doesn’t say a word, ignores the heat thrumming in his veins. “Don’t you dare kiss me right now, Harrington,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice that is very fucking interesting and Steve would like to explore more.

“Yep. Hands and lips to myself. Gotcha.”

“I also had a massive panic attack about it like five minutes later because you’re the best person I know and I will be fully, absolutely destroyed if I lose you, so. Before I set myself adrift here, are you sure you have a single fucking clue what you’re getting yourself into?”

“See, that’s the thing!” Steve points, just as Eddie takes another step, so his finger ends up right in Eddie’s face and he’s eyeing it like he might just pop it into his mouth. In for a penny… “You got really mad at me when you thought I was avoiding you, and I very much, totally was because I have like, two age appropriate friends and figuring out one of them might be the love of my life threw me for a fucking loop.” Too soon, way too fucking soon, he was supposed to like, at least get Eddie in his bed before he admitted that. “So. I’ve already had that crisis and I know I lied and told you it was nothing but that’s. What that was.”

The look shifts. Eddie’s eyes were already wide, so his expression doesn’t change all that much, but his eyes get a little glassy and the dimple in his cheek twitches. 

“Whoops,” Steve repeats and Eddie gathers up the hand Steve still has between them, guiding the arm down towards Steve’s side, lacing their fingers up together as he gets close enough Steve can feel his breath on his cheek.

“You’re an actual lunatic,” Eddie tells him, but he’s leaning in close, now, curling a hand around Steve’s neck. “Whoops, he says,” and Eddie shakes his head fondly, close enough that the tip of his nose swipes across Steve’s with the movement. “How long?”

“We’re still not kissing, right?” Steve asks, just to clarify, and Eddie smiles, shakes his head. “Yep. Still good with that. Sure. How long what?”

“Don’t play dumb, princess.”

“I mean – are you asking about me? Are you asking about me knowing about you? Are you asking about attraction, or feelings, or…”

“Sure,” Eddie says, and Steve supposes he walked himself into that. He’s still – Steve could count individual lashes dashed across Eddie’s eyelids, he’s so close. 

“Yeah. Alright. Me? Been trying to sort it out for a while, I think, since Vecna. For sure? Two weeks ago, when you made me come watch your campaign finale, or whatever.” Eddie’s eyes gleam with interest, and Steve can see him searching for a specific moment, but it hadn’t been a specific moment, it had been an amalgamation of the last seven months of his life, and watching Eddie in his element, threading together a sweeping close to a tale he’s been working on for a full year, seeing the kids delighted faces, thinking about all the shit they’d been through and all the terrible things they’ve seen, it had all clicked into place. “You? I didn’t know, know. Just. Robin’s always saying there are signs, if you look for them. I hoped. I was looking for them.” 

Had to talk himself into and out of reading into signs multiple times, honestly. 

“I had some very confusing boners before I understood them, so I can’t really pinpoint that one, but a while,” and Eddie’s lips curl up, which is nice. It’s one of his favorite things to do, making Eddie smile like that. “The… I liked you from the start, is the thing, so there isn’t just a single moment but… you remember that night we got up on the roof of the van and got way too fucking high?”

“You couldn’t find the Big Dipper,” Eddie recalls fondly. 

“Yeah, well, you were right there next to me, being all freakishly smart about constellations and looking at me and when you told me about your mom I wanted to just – tear the whole fucking world apart for you. So.”

“So,” Eddie says, and his voice has gone whisper soft and his breath is fanning across Steve’s face and his eyes are big and brown and soft at the edges.

“We’re still doing the no kissing part, right?”

Eddie hums. Tilts his head to the side just a bit, and his nose stripes across Steve’s cheek. “I could probably be persuaded otherwise.”

It’s – he’s –

“If I admit the panic might be coming on now, will you change your mind?”

“Absolutely.”

“Cool. I’m very chill about this.”

“Steve,” he says, and his voice is so fucking soft, and his fingers are skittering up the side of Steve’s arm. 

“Freaking out a little bit. Don’t – you can stay here, though.”

“I’ll stay here as long as you need.”

“While we’re here, you could – I mean I know I said I clocked you pretty easily but if you wanted, I would definitely be okay hearing about – how. How that happened.”

Eddie’s eyes flit up, hold Steve’s. “You lying about anxiety to get me to tell you my dirty secrets?”

“I’m not that smart,” Steve tells him, and Eddie’s smile tilts up at the corners.

#steddie ficlet #steddie #steve x eddie #steve is a chaotic bisexual #that's just a fact.

[luvrsbian]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄

A/N: she's finally here!!! this was initially supposed to be a one shot but has kinda turned into a draft up of a pretty plotless, sweet, fluffy mini series. it follows canon for the most part minus eddies death ofc but because im bad with canon lore and science shit, its not heavily mentioned (some minor canon lore was changed but it's not super important.) this is a fem!reader, no use of y/n, set in 1992, 4k words, and i've kept reader pretty vague for inclusivity minus some background lore. this series is not 18+ (yet) but my page is, so please do not follow if you are a minor. thank you sweet baby mona @enam3l for beta-reading for me (ily)

MASTERLIST ✿ PART TWO

Eddie Munson liked his life. He liked his friends, even if a lot of them have now dispersed across the continental United States for school, jobs, general life (minus Robin who has somehow managed to make her way to Australia doing God knows what.) He liked his home, a house on the edge of town – slightly bigger than the old trailer – which he still shared with his uncle. He liked his style and hobbies and taste in music and movies that haven’t really changed much in the last 5 years since his final senior year. 

He really liked his job. 

Which felt odd for him to admit to himself.  It wasn’t anything like what he thought he would be doing. A younger Eddie Munson would imagine himself traveling city to city, adored by fans, living creatively and free spirited.  

But a middle school janitorial gig kept him young. One could argue 26 wasn't even that old, however, compared to his friends (who he'd already been older than) with their careers, relationships and growing families, he felt like a lonely old man. So, yeah, the awkward, funny, and extremely honest pre-teens made him feel young.  

Initially he thought the job would be lonely. It’s a small town with even smaller schools. Besides him, there was only one other night janitor that he alternated weekend cleans with and only really ran into during day-to-night shift changes. Ron was nice enough, older than Wayne, with a far higher patience for children. Unsurprisingly, behaviours from high school died hard and the teachers and administrative staff all kept to their own little cliques. Resulting in Eddie keeping to himself, rarely speaking outside of his custodian duties or the occasional faculty meeting. 

He didn’t even think he’d interact with the students aside from cleaning the odd vomit or getting stuck balls out of the gymnasium rafters. He unintentionally found himself yet again the outcasted mother goose to a small hoard of pre-teen metal heads when their unofficial leader, Matty Sherman, caught site of the various posters Ed keeps hung up on his office (custodial closet) door. The seventh grader quickly forcing himself under Eddies wings and refusing to budge. Matty was a good kid. Reminded Eddie a lot of himself at that age. He was loud, abrasive, and way too confident for such a gangly frame in ill-fitting clothes. Matty had hair though which 13-year-old Eddie couldn’t relate to. 

There was also Ms. Virginia Wagner. The eccentric, nurse who has been working at Hawkins Middle since Eddie was attending. Maybe even before that, he wasn’t quite sure and whenever he asked anything close to finding out her age, she quickly shut him down. She was sweet. She was funny. She was also a mean old hag sometimes, but God did Eddie love that about her. If he was just 20 - or more realistically 40 - years older and wasn’t almost certain she swings the other way, he’d shoot his shot.  

The Summer season was extremely uneventful for Eddie. Due to the kids being out of school, his hours were cut in more than half with only the yearly repairs and deep cleaning needing to be done. He went into work about 3 days a week, spending the extra free time to do some manual labour gigs here and there around town. When he wasn’t working, he was hidden away at home watching movies, listening to music, trying to plan out ongoing and future campaigns for Hellfire meetings that have begun to be fewer and far between now that everyone has dispersed. On some rare occasions when he didn’t feel like a complete shell of a person and was able to leave the house to socialize outside of life obligations, he met up with the few friends that remained in the Hawkins area (which at this point in time was really only Steve Harrington and Gareth Emerson.) 

It was now the Monday of the week before students would return back to these fluorescent lit halls. That meant all other faculty were now gracing the school to prepare for the year ahead. Organizing and prepping and finalizing lesson plans and class rosters.  

Eddie had a slight pep in his step as he walked through the halls, scuffed up sneakers squeaking on the shiny, extra polished tiles. He whistled a silent tune that clashed with the jingles of his keys that he swung around his middle finger. Getting to the janitors closet to put on his navy coverall and put his hair into a low bun. He zips up the stiff material, covering the self-altered muscle tank top that had the logo for some local band down in Indianapolis he saw a few years back before things went to shit. A cracked and stained mirror hanging up over his work sink being used to make sure his hair looked casually messy in the bun. With a final once over, he hooks his keys to the belt loop of his coveralls and preps for the day's work. A glance at his wristwatch, the one that has somehow survived hell and back just like him, reads 7:58. Just 4 hours and 2 minutes until lunch.  

He couldn’t wait. 

Eddie used those 4 hours and 2 minutes to check each stall in all bathrooms were fully stocked with toilet paper and the likes, clean the actual toilets themselves, and make sure the water was running properly in every sink. Once that was taken care of, he began on his biggest task of the week of dragging desks and chairs out of the back storage building to be put into classrooms. Sheryl from the administrative team having left the small packet of papers indicating how many seats each room would need for the coming year.  

He could move the chairs in stacks at a time but could only really stack two - maybe three if he was careful - desks on his hand truck before it became a safety problem. Once moved into the main building, he had to wipe them down, tighten any loose screws that could make them wobble, and make sure they were still in usable condition. Eddie had completed almost 3 of the 32 classrooms before lunch finally rolled around.  

He grabbed his lunch sack from the custodial closet and whistled on his merry way to the nurse's office. He’s been eating lunch with Virginia for as long as he can remember. Of course, there was those 5 years of High School and then the year of recovery following the events of his second senior year, and the summer breaks of course, but besides all those he’s been eating with her for a good 7 years.  

This ritual beginning in his 6th grade, the first year he moved in with Wayne, all sad eyed and past aside due to events outside of his control. Kids he had grown up with suddenly not wanting anything to do with him. He wouldn’t really make any friends again until 7th grade, and his first band of misfits was created, Corroded Coffin. 6th Grade was the worst year of his life until 1986 and now it’s about tied.  

Sadly, in middle school who you ate a meal with or gave the time of day too was so integral into maintaining the hierarchal balance of the ecosystem. It was bullshit. With everything that happened that lead to his father going to jail and him burdening his uncle, the kids of Hawkins middle school decided Eddie wasn’t worth risking their own reputations. He doesn’t remember exactly how it happened, his brain kicking the memory out at some point to make room for more important stuff like D&D lore. But he does remember he went from eating lunch in the bathroom to eating it in Nurse Wagner’s office.  

Even after being integrated back into the Middle school social circle, he couldn’t just leave her to eat lunch by herself. She needed him with his alternative music education and retelling of the fantasy books he’d been reading lately and his strong headedness that could keep up with her dry and sarcastic quips many interpreted as rudeness. Although Eddie would still refuse to admit it, in actuality he probably needed her more than she needed him. 

He doesn’t knock, just moseys his tall frame into the nurse's office, wide dimpled smile on his lips as he hears rummaging coming from the actual office area that was blocked off by a wall. He looks at the two plastic-y beds covered in paper sheets, inhaling that antiseptic smell that can only seem to be found in medical settings. No fluorescent lights were on, only natural light being let it from the two big windows.  

There are curtains on them now which surprises him. Floral pinks and yellows with lace on the edge that really fit the grandma vibes Virginia has but refused to acknowledge. The windows all have blinds, but curtains were deemed a non-necessary commodity by the school board budgeting team, meaning if you wanted curtains, you’re gonna have to fork money out of pocket for them. Eddie had asked Virginia about it once, commenting about how it would help spruce up the place. Make it look a little less sterile. She told him to go to hell, that she’s a nurse not rich. Any out-of-pocket money she spent on work only going towards things that actually matter, like the allergen friendly laundry detergent and the nicer, name brand candy for the candy bowl. 

Putting his lunch on the side table of the first bed, he lays down in a relaxed position. Hands behind his head, legs crossed, eyes closed, he lets out a relaxed sigh. 

“Virginia, dear, I really love what you’ve done with the place,” he calls out to her, hearing the close of the filing cabinet and footsteps soon following, “feels all homey now, dontcha think.” 

The footsteps stop. 

“I'm glad you like them. You feelin’ comfy there?” 

That was most definitely not Virginia Wagners voice. 

Eddie jolts up, eyes wide and cheeks red. He’s not one to get embarrassed easily but since recent events he’s been a bit more reserved in how comfortable he gets around strangers. And you were most definitely a stranger. A pretty stranger. A very pretty stranger in a teddy bear patterned scrub top and an oversized cardigan with embroidered sunflowers. You’re a disorienting mess of patterns and colors but you’re also, like, really pretty and Eddie isn’t sure how to go about this. 

“You’re not Virginia,” is all he can get his voice to come out with. 

“I’m not Virginia.” You give a chuckle. A positive response, Eddie thinks. 

“Where’s Virginia?” 

Eddie is now standing away from the bed and closer to the door, ready to run from the situation if needed (something he’s learned to embrace in the last few years.) You give him a friendly smile, hands in your cardigan pockets, the sleeves bunched up. You look cozy.  

“Florida. She’ll be in the Caribbean by the end of the month,” you supply. He can tell your fingers are fidgeting in your pockets. His hands are fidgeting at his waist, pinching at the material of his coveralls.  

“Why?” 

You shrug your shoulders, “Retirement.” 

“Oh,” Eddie sighs, eyes breaking contact with yours for the first time since standing, shifting to look at your white - almost pristine - sneakers on the tile floor her spent all summer mopping and waxing and removing scuff marks from. “That sucks.” 

You snort. Teeth biting your bottom lip to stop from laughing at him further during this awkwardly endearing meeting. Your own eyes looking him over now that he isn’t completely focused on you. He’s cute. His cheeks stained your favourite shade of pink once he realized you weren’t the now retired nurse he had been so fond of. Hands covered in jewlery. His inability to stay still so natural it makes you think he doesn’t even realize he’s been shifting his body weight back and forth from his toes to his heels this whole time. Tall, lean, maybe with some extra fluff hidden under the baggy attire. He’s got some shadow of hair on his cheeks. And if you weren’t a civil person and he wasn’t a stranger, you’d be begging to kiss at the column of his throat. 

Your gaze moves to look around the waiting part of the office to avoid thinking even more things about this guy. A brown paper bag chicken scratched with the words ‘ED LUNCH’ catches your eye. Before you have a chance to speak yourself, he starts his interrogation again. 

“Who are you?” 

Your attention cuts back to him quickly. With a smile that shows all your teeth and a hand leaving your pocket, held out for him to shake, you give your full name. 

He takes it with his own reserved smile. His hands and rings are warm, but they still tingle your skin from the unfamiliarity of the metal. You enjoy it you think. Before he can introduce himself, you beat him to the punch. 

“You must be Edward, right?” 

He grimaces, “Just Eddie,” your handshake falls. His hand back to his hip and your hand back into your pocket, “Just Eddie is fine. More than fine, actually. Preferred, really.” 

Another chuckle from you. Eddie knows he’s funny when he wants to be but if it’s this easy to make you laugh, he doesn’t ever want to stop. 

“Well, just Eddie,” you smirk at his eye roll, “you can join me for lunch if you’d like. I feel like my presence may have ruined your initial plans,” you let out a huff of a laugh and gesture to the lunch sack by the window. He grimaces again at your wording and shakes his head. 

“It didn’t ruin any plans just was shocking ‘sall,” his hand moves from his hip to rub at his slightly scruffy chin, pretty brown eyes back on yours, “but um, yeah. Yes, I’d love- like to join you for lunch.” 

You smile. He smiles back. 

Eddie has sat in this chair, in this office, and eaten his lunch for years. Today it feels awkward and unfamiliar.  

It might have something to do with you sitting where Virginia used to sit. Same chair, same desk, same office, but completely different. Virginia didn’t decorate her space, leaving it functional and impersonal, if people wanted to know about her life they could ask her. She wasn’t going to flaunt it.  

You were very different. An orange, gaudy looking vase filled with fake flowers. A matching candy bowl with various sugary, little treats. A picture frame of you and what he could only assume was your family based on the similar features shared between each person. A decorated Coke can with the top cut off and trimmed with glued on lace and covered in holographic stickers of vibrant cartoon animals, sparse enough to still see the iconic red drink logo, was now holding an assortment of colorful gel pens.  

Even the chair wasn’t safe from your interior decorating, a purple knitted blanket folded over the top of the rolling seat. The seat itself now adorning a red, white, and black cushion of an ugly faced bulldog with a spiked color and cap with the letter G, the words ‘GEORGIA BULLDOGS’ splayed above him. A sports team he assumed.  

The conversation hadn’t started back up since the introduction in the sick room. Both of you taking your respective seats in the office area, opening your lunch bags and digging in.  

Eddie being a creature of habit brought his usual bag of pretzels, a can of Pepsi, and a sandwich made of whatever he could find in the kitchen. Today it was two slices of whole wheat, mayo, lettuce, the last piece of deli ham, and shredded cheese.  

Your own lunch seemed much more put together. For starters, you had an actual lunchbox, a bulky and vibrant plastic thing with Snoopy sleeping on his dog house on the front. Inside, there was your own ziploc bag of green grapes, a can of Coke, and a sandwich cut into triangles. White bread, crunchy peanut butter, and grape jelly. A Little Debbies Swiss Rolls pack sitting on the corner of your desk for dessert. 

He’s mid chew on the final bite of his sandwich, half his Pepsi left, his pretzels being the first thing devoured, when you speak up. Your own sandwich having on triangle section left, grapes gone, and Coke untouched. 

“Have you always lived in Hawkins?” 

You’re wiping your mouth with a folded paper towel, curious eyes focused on him. You’re very good at that, he’s realized. Eye contact. Focusing on your center of attention. Eddie has never been good at it, having to remind himself to look at the person talking to him. It’s polite, Wayne would say, shows people you’re listening and interested in what they have to say. Eddie gets so worked up in remembering to seem focused, he loses it and doesn’t hear what’s being said. He hasn’t had that problem with you so far. He thinks he could look at and listen to you all day if you let him. 

“Born and bred,” he swallowed his bite and shrugs his shoulders, rubbing his hands together to get the crumbs off, “you’re not though, are you. Feel like I’d remember you,” he raises an eyebrow. Feeling a little more confident in himself, especially with the obvious signs of you not being a local, and gives a playful smirk. 

“You got me,” you hold your hands up in mock surrender, moving your arms back to rest your elbows on the edge of the desk, “I’m from Georgia.” 

Eddie nods, the seat cushion making sense now. It’s your home team for… sports. A sport. Probably football. Eddie mentally pats himself on the back for guessing it was a sports team. Good on him for knowing sports. (Eddie doesn’t know sports.) 

“So,” Eddie lulls, small talk never being his forte. Much more interested in getting into the nitty gritty of conversation when interested in someone but he doesn’t know you yet. He needs to find something to relate with you on and he can’t do that with tidbits he may know from growing up in town like he could other people his age or older here. “You’re like a southern chick,” it was your turn to grimace.  

“You’re really bad at this,” you snort and shake your head, finishing up the last of your own sandwich. Tidying up your desk, throwing away the ziploc bag and sandwich wrapping and paper towels. Opening the coke can and moving the swiss rolls pack to in front of you, looking back to Eddie. With a tilt of your head and saccharine grin you ask, “Splitsies?” 

He nods at the opportunity to get a sweet little treat before addressing your initial comment, “Small talk requires talking and I just don’t really do that anymore with people who don’t already know me or just have a preconceived idea of who I am,” he shrugs his shoulders again, voice softer, slight regret in being too real. Eyes watching your fingers open the package, folding another paper towel (which he has now realized are coming from a roll kept in the lowest drawer of your desk), and setting one of the processed roll cakes on the indented paper before placing it in front of Eddie’s seated and slouched body. “Thank you,” He looks back up to you and you’re already looking at him. 

“Virginia told me a lot about you,” you smirk, lifting your own cake to take a bite. Your eyes not leaving his except for split a second to give an appreciative glance and hum to the cream filled ‘pastry.’  

“We’ve been corresponding for months,” you snicker at your own use of the word, making you feel like some sort of 18th century countess or captain, rather than a young nurse taking over the position of an older nurse.  

He looks panicked at this reveal. Which is cute considering he had a bit of white cream on his upper lip. Although he looked so pretty when his brow furrowed, it was clear he was frightened so you were quick to reassure him. 

“All good things, of course. I think she’s just worried about you. It’s cute, really, just really cute.” Another kind smile on your lips and your hand holding out the paper towel - his now eaten roll was sat on - as hint for him to clean his mouth off. 

Eddie knew Virgina wasn’t one to gossip but the prospect of a rare new person in town he’s actually interested in, being privy to all his shit-uations without him telling them himself, scared him. But Virginia did love to meddle and that may be worse. She was a big supporter of Eddie needing friends his own age.  

Letting out a sigh of relief that his tragic history had yet to be exposed, Eddie returned your smile with his own half one. You reach into your desk again, pulling out a letter instead of paper towels this time. ‘Edward’ scrawled in a familiar, loopy handwriting with blue ink on the white envelope caught his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion and intrigue.  

You hold it out for him to take like it was something precious, “This is for you.” From Virginia, is unspoken but recognized between the both of you. Who else would it have been from. Eddie flushing as he realized, Virginia never told him about you. Virginia never even told Eddie she’d be leaving. They didn’t speak much, or really at all, during the summer unless they happened to run into each other outside of these brick walls.  

Callused finger pads grazed your palm when he took the letter from you, he kept his eyes focused on examining the letter. A sad smile on his lips appreciating the loops of the E and W and curves of the D’s. Realistically he knew Virginia probably wasn’t gonna be gone from Hawkins forever, she had roots here. A son. That’s son kid or maybe kids now, he wasn’t sure, hadn’t checked in on Rick since he got out of jail in ‘88. But it still hurt that she was gone, without a word, and was happy enough to talk to her replacement about him but not to him about her. You. 

“I’m gonna read this later,” he mumbles and puts the offending but appreciated letter in his deep pocket. A quick glance at his watch read it’s been about an hour since making his way into the nurses office, lunch was over. He threw his trash out in the bin by your desk and gave you a friendly smile, standing from the seat in front of your desk. 

“Maybe we could do this again sometime,” eyes shifting around the office again, not really taking things in, just needing to not get trapped back into your gaze. “Ya know, with my lunches free now and everything,” he humorlessly chuckles. 

“Eddie,” you spoke softer than you had before, a more sympathetic smile on your lips, “I’d really like that.” 

He looks at you now. You have really shiny eyes. What a weird observation, Eddie thinks, but it’s true. With a quick wave of his hand before retreating them back into his pocket, fingers playing with the paper edges of Virginias letter. He begins his trek out the door.  

“Hey, next time though,” he stumbles in a spin to walk backwards while speaking, “We’ll speak more about you than about me. Feel’s like you know too much about me,” he huffs with a smug smile before spinning back to look forward. “See ya, Peach.” 

Your sweet laughter follows him out into the hall. You call out, “See ya, Eddie,” to his retreating back, watching the door long after he’s left.  

“Peach,” you snort and shake your head, teeth tugging on your bottom lip to stop from smiling too wide. 

the clean up crew (taglist): @avobabe87 @bakugouswh0r3

comment or ask to be added to the clean up crew!

#ʚ by gwen ɞ #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #tcu #school janitor eddie x school nurse reader

[malk1ns]

"Sidgeno taking in a rookie" prompter here - that was delightful, thank you soooooo much!!!!! :D :D if you would like to write anything more in that mini-verse, may I request a) how does Mack handle it when Sid goes into heat? does they politely kick him out of the house for a few days? or does he have to listen to them bone all day? or b) Sid teasing Geno about how the baby obviously has a massive crush on him or c) maybe Mack does walk in on them at some point? all I'm saying is it baffles me how little fandom makes of the potential hilarity/awkwardness of "oh no we can't move till the knot goes down". But no pressure as you've already given us such a gift!!!

thank YOU for an incredible prompt!!! i feel like maybe we could put these in some form of chronological order....

c) mack walks in on them

Sid and Geno are usually pretty discreet. It's not their fault that Mack's going through dynamics puberty, after all—the dynamics counselor with the team said he'd have elevated sensitivity to scents and pheromones for at least a year, but it will eventually settle. Mack can't blame Sid and Geno for not realizing just how sensitive he is—they keep it to their bedroom, and Sid's got pheromone neutralizers plugged into an outlet in every room. Mack's learning to deal with it, doing his best to get to his room and shut the door when Sid starts looking at Geno like that.

Sometimes, though, they're not careful.

As soon as Mack walks into the house, he groans—it reeks, Sid's little air fresheners doing absolutely nothing to dispel the cloud of horny alpha and seductive omega permeating the entire entryway. He'd been at the mall with Brayden, poking around for Christmas presents for his parents—he was gone for ages, haven't they done anything else this whole afternoon?

Sighing, he hangs his coat on the rack and takes off his shoes, remembering just in time to not just kick them off into the wall—one time catching Sid cleaning off the scuff marks was more than enough guilt for a lifetime. He thinks vaguely about getting a snack, but figures that distracting himself with some television until they're done is the better choice. He's felt even more attuned to Sid and Geno's scents recently, and there's an itch under his skin that he's trying not to worry about too much.

The living room isn't empty.

"Oh god," Mack yelps, freezing in the doorway. "Oh no."

"Fuck," Sid gasps, grabbing at Geno's shoulders to stop himself from tipping back onto the floor.

One of the couches in the living room, the one Geno always claims during movie night and coaxes Sid into cuddling with him on, is angled so that it's half-facing the door into the room. Mack has an unimpeded, perfect view of the way Geno's slouched against the back cushions, arms akimbo, staring up at Sid with heavy-lidded eyes as Sid rides him.

"Oh my god," Sid says frantically, leaning forward and grabbing for a blanket. He and Geno both hiss in discomfort, and Mack cant help it, he looks down at where Geno's dick is—fuck, he's knotted Sid already, and Mack can see where it's stretching Sid wide.

He snaps his eyes away, but Geno catches him looking, and Mack just knows what he must smell like right now, knows there's no way Geno misses his reaction.

Sid's muttering frantically to himself as he drapes the blanket around his naked body, as if that's going to help at all. "Mack, I'm so sorry, just—" he starts.

Mack flees. It's the only sane decision.

Maybe if he opens every window in his bedroom and sticks his head under ice-cold water in the shower, he can shock this boner away and hopefully purge the entire incident from his mind.

b) sid teases geno about mack's crush

"Oh god," Sid groans, tucking his face into Geno's neck. They'd been so careful until today.

It's been an adjustment, having Mack in the house. Of course it was the best choice—the only choice, really—to have their draft prize who also happened to be an omega live somewhere he'd be taken care of properly, with someone who understood—that didn't make it any easier to get used to.

There had been a lot of close calls at first, when Sid was halfway to sliding to his knees in the kitchen when Geno looked at him a certain way before realizing that Mack was just one room away setting the table, or Geno was about to push Sid's thighs apart on the couch when Mack shuffled in with a bowl of popcorn. They'd gotten used to it, though, making sure to get up to their bedroom before starting anything—Sid even set up a bunch of scent-neutralizers, he remembers what it was like at that age.

All that hard work, totally undone because Sid's a week and a half out from his heat and starting to get horny at the drop of a hat, and Geno got too worked up to remember to chivvy them up the stairs.

Mack looked mortified. Poor kid. And of course Sid's been knotted in Geno's lap for the last half-hour, with no signs of it going down any time soon.

Sid can feel Geno chuckle under him, and he can't help but relax, letting his body go heavy against Geno's. Geno slips his hands under the blanket and rubs them soothingly over Sid's back. "He ok," Geno rumbles, pressing a kiss to Sid's forehead. "He's adult, not like he doesn't know. He's have a computer, internet." One hand slides down Sid's back to tease at his hole, where Geno's knot is stretching him, and Sid shivers.

"He's barely an adult, he's practically a baby," he mumbles into Geno's skin, trying to keep focused on the conversation instead of melting at Geno's touch like his instincts want him to. "And even if he's watching porn, that's not the same as walking in on us. I'd be traumatized if I ever saw Mario like this."

Geno laughs outright at that. "No, you see Mario do this, you run up to room and get off," he teases.

He's not wrong. Sid bites down on his neck a little anyway. "Who's to say Mack's not doing the same?" he asks, arching his back a little and pressing against Geno's finger. He should probably go get his levels checked tomorrow, his heat might be early this month. "He's got the world's biggest crush on you, and now he's seen you in action. Probably made his day."

"Sid!" Geno sounds shocked, and Sid grins. Geno talks a big game, but he's a prude at heart, and Sid loves scandalizing him a little bit. "You don't say this, he's kid, like, he's not think—"

"Oh, he absolutely does," Sid says. "I'm surprised you haven't noticed. He's no good at suppressing how he's feeling, and he's got it bad for you. Not that I can blame him."

"Oh, you like too?" Geno says, sounding smug. Sid wants to keep talking, try to figure out with Geno how they should address this with Mack, but Geno's sliding his finger into him, and the pressure is sparking stars in his vision, and they can talk about it later.

a) how does mack handle sid going into heat?

Mack avoids Sid and Geno as much as he can for the next few days.

'As much as he can' isn't all that much, considering they live together and carpool to work most days, and Mack's mom would yell at him if he took the meals Sid made and ate in his bedroom. So he's still around them a ton, but he keeps quiet when possible, and after Sid tries to coax him into conversation the first day, they let him be.

The problem is, the itchiness under Mack's skin hasn't gone away. If anything, it's gotten worse, and Owen's been acting weird around him too, lurking near him in the locker room and looming behind him on the ice when the guys start roughhousing with him.

Mack's heat isn't due until the All-Star break. Rookies always have their heats suppressed until they have a decent amount of time off, they can do it safely now, and it's easier—he has a few months to get used to playing in the show full-time without having to add in a heat on top of it, and he's got ten full days to take advantage of the facilities and recover when he's done before he's back to game play.

But Mack had two heats before the Penguins medical team got him on his shots. He knows what it feels like when he's getting close. It feels like this.

Watching Geno fuck Sid on the couch only made it worse.

Geno's been watching him too. Mack can feel the weight of his attention, the way he's keeping watch in the room. It keeps Mack up at night, intrusive thoughts about what he'd do if he were a little less nervous and Geno was a little more single.

He's moping in his bedroom after dinner five days after The Incident when someone knocks on his door.

Mack considers ignoring it, pretending he had his headphones in, but the manners his mom drilled into his skull won't let him, so he reluctantly gets off his bed and slumps to the door, cracking it open and hoping Sid will accept a brush-off if he smiles big enough.

It's not Sid. Geno pushes his way into Mack's room, barely glancing around before sitting at Mack's desk and staring at him pointedly until Mack sits back down on his bed.

"Um," Mack says, darting a glance at his nightstand and breathing a quiet sigh of relief when the drawer is shut. "What's up?"

Geno purses his lips. "I'm not talk about...before," he says, grimacing a little. Mack watches in surprise as his face turns a dull red. "It's fine, we don't talk about. But, I need to come say to you, it's heat soon for Sid, and I think maybe for you too, after."

Mack swallows. Shit. "I'm not due until break," he says weakly. "They're giving me the—"

"Shots, yes, I know this," Geno says impatiently, waving a hand in dismissal. "Shots not perfect, like, for Sid they not work at all my rookie year. And for you, I think because you're with Sid so much, it's making like...link, maybe. I don't know, it's for doctors, but I can smell. You talk to Dharmesh?"

Mack cannot imagine addressing the stern team physician by his first name. "Not...yet," he says haltingly. "I was hoping maybe it would go away."

Geno sighs. "Podrostki," he mutters. "No, it's not work that way. Look, I think for Sid's heat you're go stay with Jake, maybe, if it's okay. Not good for you, to be here when he's...I think maybe it's worse for you."

Mack thinks back to how being in heat felt, the way he needed so much, and flushes, imagining that same want creeping up on him when he's locked away in his room, listening to Geno give Sid everything he wants down the hall. No, he can't be here for that. "Is Jake okay with that?" is what he says, ducking his head so he doesn't have to meet Geno's too-knowing gaze. What they're dancing around is that Geno knows how Mack feels, maybe has known the whole time, and that it's not just Sid's heat that's accelerating Mack's own.

Mack wonders if it's too late to ask to be sent back to juniors.

"Jake offers," Geno says. "He say, maybe it's good for you to be with betas for a while, especially then—it's hard for the guys, even the ones who know Sid for years, and you're new."

Mack takes a breath. Being around someone who isn't involved in the drama surrounding dynamics sounds like a breath of fresh air, even if Mack's going to be going through all this for himself soon. Maybe a break is exactly what he needs.

"Yeah, okay," he says. "If they're alright with it, that's probably a good idea. I'll go whenever you guys think I need to."

Geno nods and gets to his feet. "It's maybe another few days," he says, pausing before he leaves and clapping a hand on Mack's shoulder. "You good kid. It gets easier, Sid says."

The next morning, Sid's practically in Geno's lap at breakfast, and when Mack walks into the kitchen Sid growls at him, territory-marking in a way that Mack's only read about. Geno looks half-drunk on the flood of pheromones, pulling Sid in close and licking over his bond bite.

Mack runs up to his room and shoves as many clothes as he can manage into his travel bag, hoping that the Guentzels are ready for company sooner than anticipated.

#geno went back to his and sid's bedroom and smelled like mack and that was enough to tip sid into heat WAY early #poor kid. he simply cannot win in this house!!! #rookie houseguest #a/b/o #sidgeno #hockey rpf #my fic #my writing

[christiansorrell]

TTRPG Read-Through: Traveller - Book 1

Here is a read-through I did about a year and a half ago (originally posted on Twitter) of one of the all time classics: Traveller by Game Designers' Workshop! This read-through just covers Book 1 - Characters and Combat from the original Traveller box set trio of books. - Christian

This is the 1981 Second Edition printing of the classic Traveller three zine box set! Been wanting to read this for ages now. It's discussed A LOT in Mothership circles.

Really interesting to see GM-less and solo play options here. Didn't realize that was being done explicitly at this time. Also, nice to see "he or she" language here rather than the just "he" you see a lot in older games.

The UPP is clearly the creation of an utterly deranged mind. This seems like a huge overcomplication of just listing stats (unless all your players are proficient in hexadecimal).

[Hi, it's me from the future here (aka now - 2024): I've learned to embrace and love the UPP (or more specifically the planet stat version from one of the other books). It's complicated at first but really quick and cool once you know how to read it.]

I really like Social Standing as a stat replacement for charisma or charm or other social skills you tend to see. Feels like it would have more impact on the story and less of a "Roll to see if you convince him, I guess" sort of anticlimax social skills have most of the time.

I'm now into the "you can die during char creation in Traveller" bits. Really cool in some ways. Really comical in others. It recommends you enlist your bad stat characters into the Scout service because of it's high mortality rate (so you can roll a diff char before play), lol.

Essentially, you roll stats and that's your entire character but to give them some experience they can enlist in a Service. You have to roll to get in and may get rejected. If so, you submit to the draft (get into one at random). You can die. You can gain skills and promotions.

Honestly, the char creation feels like a solo game unto itself. Risk v reward of how far to push your enlistments to boost your skills and standing and benefits. You could have a whole story in your head by the end of it. Great Session 0 material.

As a 34 yr old, this hurts. Apparently, I have -1 Strength, Dexterity and Endurance now...

I admire commitment but asking GMs to use this full char creator for all NPCs (which means generating chars until you get one capable of filling the role you need) is truly too wild. Best part: at the end, it just says you can also pick whatever you want for stats and skills.

The weapons and intro text have much more of a space as a new age of sail vibe to them than I was anticipating. It's cool. Far more Dune than Alien (so far).

Interestingly (unless I missed something), skills are detached from your stats. Your base stats make getting into a Service easier and help you with Saving Throws and such, but skills have their own modifiers based on the situation and your expertise. It's cool (if a bit dense)!

In case you were wondering, there is absolutely no art in this entire book. I'm hoping we'll get some in one of the other two books with vehicles and ships and such but won't be holding my breath. Gives the whole thing a very Serious vibe.

Always interesting to see how older games chose to handle this (or not).

Here's the UPP in action along with quick listing of other character info. Interesting even if it is just too overcomplicated for my tastes.

Can't overstate how much char creation feels like a whole solo game of its own. You can roll a character at age 18 and have them go through seven 4-yr terms in a Service before retiring and having substantial cash, specific possessions, memberships and social standings. Wild.

The character sheet mentions PSIONICS which is exciting (but I'll have to wait till Book 3 for more on that apparently).

Combat is straightforward but has some unique bits: a focus on stealth as an option and movement/attacks occur by all parties simultaneously which means everyone (enemies too) gets to move and then everyone chooses who to attack and you roll them all. Sounds really fun.

Stats have cool effects in battle. Your Endurance stat is the number of attacks you can make before needing to rest (can you imagine if DnD just didn't let you do a base attack at a point?). Strength and Dex can boost or lower certain weapon rolls like you'd expect.

If trained in a weapon, you can give your expertise as a negative mod to your enemy's rolls to attack you to reflect parrying and blocking which is cool. The skills also add to your attack rolls. Skills just seem really useful overall here.

I just love that we get stats for broadswords, revolvers, and laser carbines. Plus, there are even special tables for archaic weapons for when encountering lower-tech civilizations. It feels like a really wide open interpretation of what space could look like. Feels exciting.

A few more equipment tables and a final quick reference page at the back and that's all for Book 1. I'll be back with Book 2 and 3 in the coming days!

Main thoughts: Character creation is very involved but really cool - its own game practically. Skills are very deep in a way that feels refreshing when compared to more stat-focused games. Combat has some fun, chaotic twists. Feels like a wide universe of possibility here so far.

I'll add Books 2 and 3 to this thread when I give them their own read-throughs. In the meantime, here's my newsletter (last two months have Mothership freebies): https://meatcastle.substack.com

And here's my website (with links to my games and modules and all that good stuff): https://shop.meatcastlegameware.com/

Thanks for reading!

#traveller #ttrpg #rpg #science fiction #scifi #long post #read through #ttrpgs #roleplaying #roleplaying games #tabletop #classic

[zilabee]

I listened to the final ep of @anotherkindofmindpod's Fine Tuning, yesterday. I'm so sad it's ended. I loved every.single.second. I don't think I've posted about it at all, but it's only because everyone was already saying it better, and my posts end up in drafts half finished and confused and full of runaway sentences of little import.

I'm really grateful for the whole thing. Grateful the way I was when I watched Understanding Lennon McCartney the first time, like being given a genuine gift of fandom making sense of itself. I don't know. It's just lovely to have. And it's done so well.

When, in the first ep, they casually mentioned that there were going to be ELEVEN episodes I knew it was going to be amazing. Proper genuine "we have a lot to say and we're going to say it all so you don't think we didn't think it through" you know? I love that they didn't start making eleven episodes and then decide that was too many and cut 40% of it out, it's more like they wanted to make twenty episodes and then cut out about 40% of that. Making eleven episodes and then being like 'we didn't even have time to talk about anything that we LIKED about this book' is a real move. A perfect shiny move.

The fact they made a spreadsheet sends me into fits. I love it.

Cards on the table I have not read Tune In properly, I have skimmed and picked at it, and obviously I've seen loads of it quoted on tumblr, but EVERY quote you read from it (and everything he says in interviews) makes it so fucking OBVIOUS that he doesn't understand basic things, I've never been able to face it full on. And the frustration that people (men) can't see how bad it is. So having it put out there like this, bit by bit, oh the joy of it.

And then it's also so much worse than I knew, because I'd never really worked out that he was just MAKING UP QUOTES and mushing them together to say new things, and oh my god the stuff that's NOT in there, is insane. The bit in episode 3 where AKOM quickly list off about five or six really interesting things about Paul's art in his schooldays and then you find out that Tune In didn't even MENTION that he liked to paintklsjdofihoijsodijfohwoisjdf OH MY GOD.

I'm blown away by the work of it, and the scale of it, and how well put together it was. I love the *feel* of it. I love its tone when they let the sarcasm ride high. The voices of "sincere surprise" are just my favourite thing. "Oh, so he mentions that Paul did x and y right?" "Actually, weirdly he doesn't!" "Oh, HOW STRANGE. But does he say he was interested in z???" "Oddly no." I love the sense of giddy anticipation in the intro ep, it must have been killing them to have made so much of it and not be able to talk about it.

I'm so fully aware that all of what they're saying will move into other podcasts, and become things that men sort of talk about as if obviously everyone kind of sees the bias in Tune In, even though they've always talked about it as if it's a great work of truth until now. It kills me softly. And they'll claim it's only POSSIBLE to see that now, ten years later when it's spelled out to them, as if it's aged badly or something, when actually female fandom has been fucked off with Tune In for fucking years. But that's FINE. WHATEVER.

Also glorious have been all the posts people posted around it, and how the conversation grew, and especially the fact that @mythserene had clearly been doing a lot of the same work. Her posts in tandem with the show are so wonderful, and make it even more special, the depth of fandom for the love of fandom <3333333

#akom #<33333

[toomuchracket]

someone sent me the loveliest ask about bday party matty following girly around after tour ends that i accidentally deleted because i saved to drafts and couldn't edit on mobile SO i shall discuss it here. yes, you're right, he is without question in groupie mode (well, more so than usual lol) - after some, um, morning bedroom activities, he'll hover over you and kiss your nose like "so, my sweet girl, what's on your agenda today?", and when you tell him you've got an interview or a radio appearance or a signing he's like "that sounds fun. can i tag along, darling? i'll hold your handbag for you" lol bless him. and he's determined that everything is about you; he makes it so clear to the interviewers or presenters that "i'm only here in bf mode! it's my girl's moment! please don't mention me", but he caves a little when you pout and say "but i want to talk about you. half of these essays are about you", gives you a little nose kiss and says "well, alright, if you insist lol", which in turn makes you roll your eyes and say "bloody narcissist. but i love you!" lmao it's all very cute and fun. throughout the interview, he looks at you like you hung the moon, his eyes never leaving your face and his smile never leaving his - an audio clip from your radio interview goes viral because the host says "no wonder you're writing all these wonderful essays about being in love and being loved - the way your other half (matty tears up at this btw lol) looks at you, and has done the whole time we've been talking, i don't think anyone has ever been so loved as you are by him", and you get all blushy and bashful and giggly before you say "well, he has, by me", and the world seems to really love this little insight moment. and when you get home at the end of the day, matty's insistent on being the one to make dinner because "you've been working, darling, relax"; you sit in the kitchen while he cooks, mayhem at your feet and a glass of wine in your hand, and nothing has ever been so domestic and perfect. speaking of domesticity, actually - on your days off, the two of you have been rearranging the house somewhat. partially in prep for christmas decorations, but also partially because even though you moved in ages and ages ago you haven't really had the time to find the right places for all your things. matty had the kinda cute, kinda egotistical (thus, extremely him) idea of putting all your awards and most cherished writing bits in the same room as his music equivalents, so you've had to source appropriately nice bookcases for that to happen; the room looks so cool once it's finished, books interspersed with music scores and brits surrounding the booker nomination, and matty's like "you know, this is really fitting, given that we inspire each other so much. and it's also cool as fuck. like we really are the coolest couple on the planet" lol. he puts a desk in there under the guise of that being the best room to do video interviews from, but really it's so he has something to bend you over; of course thinking about the two of you being so hot and cool and accomplished gets him going, it's matty we're talking about lmfao. but really, at his core, he's a sweetheart completely in love with you - once you both got the christmas tree up and decorated, you tugged him into the kitchen like "ok, it's time. you said we were having chicken for dinner, yeah?", and matty nods in confusion and then gasps when he sees the potatoes and the baking tray and your seasoning mix on the counter like "wait, is this what i think it is? you're-" and you nod like "teaching you the roast potato recipe. this is it, healy, you're stuck with me forever now". and matty - crying, obv - just grabs your face and kisses you deeply, murmuring "can't fucking wait for that. i love you". cute as hell <3

#mads answers asks #mads muses #fluff asks #matty asks #into the birthday partyverse

[just-dino-maggie]

could you do 24, 28, and 42 with trevor zegras and the reader is jack hughes twin or something? xoxo <3

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like it! I did change it up a little bit but I still think it’s cute! I really hope you don’t mind!

Everyone is aged up one year to make this work lol

24. “I needed you.”

28. “I hate you.” “No you don’t.”

42. “I love you and it scares the hell out of me!”

Being the youngest Hughes is a wonderful challenge. I’m 19, a year younger then Luke but the same grade at U of M. I’m so insanely proud of my older brothers and their success but sometimes I feel like I’m a disappointment. They’re all in the NHL and I’m simply a college student. I’m just their little sister, nothing more.

I was 13 years old when I first realized I was in love with Trevor Zegras. He was 16 and barely noticed I existed. I’m Jacks little sister after all. He was sweet with me, always asking me how my day was and making sure the other boys never gave me a hard time. In my eyes he was the perfect guy.

After he was drafted I didn’t see him for a few years. He was off to college in Boston and Jack was in New Jersey. We just never crossed paths. I made sure we didn’t, he was dating and enjoying being a student athlete. If I saw him like that, with those girls, it would have hurt too bad.

From age 15-18 I never really saw him. Until last years summer when a freshly 18 years old Y/n decided that she got to go to the lake house. I was a mess, it was a tough year for me. I was being constantly overlooked by everyone in my life. I was Luke’s little sister, nothing more.

Worst of all, I could tell my best friend Sofia was starting to fall for Jack. She never said anything or did anything about it until I told her to. I want her to be happy but it felt like a stab in the heart.

I did the dumbest thing I think I’ve ever done. I kissed Trevor. I was so lonely and he had looked at me differently that summer. He looked at me like I was something more then I had been before. I thought he finally saw me. But instead he looked at me in my eyes after I kissed him and said “You’re Jack’s little sister, we can’t.” My heart shattered and it has been that way since.

Luke, Jack, and Sofia have insisted that I come to the lakehouse this year. Luke claims that I have to because he’s starting next season with New Jersey. Apparently he’ll miss me so much so I have to hang out with him this summer. Jack says that he really wants me there for Sofia, which I understand. Sofia is my best friend so of course she wants me to go.

I tried to say no. The embarrassment of last year still hung over me but they all had really great reasons. I’ve missed all of them so terribly. Also I can’t tell them the reason I don’t want to go. It would crush Jack and mortify me.

It’s only been a few days at the lake house and ignoring Trevor has been difficult. He tried to talk to me when we first got here but I brushed him off. I’ve been glued to Luke and Sofias side so I don’t have to talk to him.

This morning I wake up early. I immediately wrap my blanket around myself and run to the kitchen to get a drink. What’s better then hot chocolate and sunrises? Half way to the kitchen I run right into someone.

When I look up at the person steadying me, familiar blue eyes hold my gaze. “Will you excuse me?” I ask politely, trying to push past him.

He doesn’t let me go. “Last year you were all over me and now you can’t stand to be around me for more then 5 seconds. What’s that about?”

My face goes red. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t. We both know you don’t hate me.” He smirks for a second, clearly enjoying the fact that I can’t deny him. “What’s going on? Why won’t you talk to me? Is this about last year… I thought we could move past that.”

“I can’t,” I whisper. “I needed you.”

He looks even more confused. He moves his hands off of me to run them through his hair. “You needed me to kiss you?”

“No,” I shake my head. “No I needed you to see me. I needed you to look at me and like me for me; despite being Jacks sister. But you can’t do that. I can’t get close to you again. It hurts to much.”

He holds my face, “I do, I see you.”

“Not the way I want you to.” I finally push away from him. I only get a few steps away before I’m being spun around and pushed up against a cabinet. His lips are on mine. He’s kissing me so hard… he’s ravaging me.

He pulls away quicker then I had hoped. I wanted to be consumed by him for a little longer. To know for sure that the desire is there for both of us. Not just me.

“I see you. I love you and it scares the hell out of me!” I gasp at his words.

I kiss him softly on the lips, “Why does it scare you?”

“In my mind you were just Jack’s sweet little sister. Then I saw you last year and you were so different. I guess 2 plus years changes a person a lot. You were still so sweet but you were grown up. Smart, dedicated, beautiful. I’ve spent the past year obsessing over you. I want you so bad but it could ruin the relationship I have with your family. I don’t know if I could handle Jack hating me, but now I know that being apart from you might be even worse. I’m so scared to lose you guys.”

His voice cracks ever so slightly on that last sentence. I hate that he feels so helpless, like loving me could tear him appart. I’m not sure how to reassure him so I just say, “I love you too Trevor, everything is going to be okay.”

We go outside to watch the sunrise, cuddling together on the outdoor furniture. Everytime I feel unsure I look at Trevor and when his eyes meet mine I know that everything will turn out fine. Because I love him and he loves me and that’s all I really need.

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #jack hughes #luke hughes #hughes brothers #trevor zegras blurb #nhl imagine

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: foresthearts! @kiaramori has 11 fics in the Stranger Things fandom and 7 of them are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @kiaramori:

Suspended Bridges

Consensual Catfishing

Just Because You've Done It Before Doesn't Mean You'll Do It Better

In My Head (I See a Supercut of Us)

finding a cozy place in you

I read her first Steddie fic (Suspended Bridges) as it was updating and I fell in love!! The world building and plot in that fic, compared with the writing make it absolutely irresistible. I've been reading all of her fics since then and there have been no misses! Every single one is incredible. Can't recommend them enough ❤️❤️ -- anonymous

Below the cut, foresthearts answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I heard that a lot of times when people ship things, it’s a character they project onto with a character they’re attracted to. I find that I feel both things towards Steddie: I can somewhat project onto both of them to a degree, and then I also find them both pretty attractive. So it’s the best of both worlds (lol). I also think that both Steve and Eddie are at this really cool point in their life. After high school there’s a lot of self-discovery. Finding your own independence, figuring out who you are, deconstructing the messages you were raised with, finding your path…I think that’s a really cool time to write about.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

One of my favorite tropes for this pairing is Kas!Eddie. I really like fics where Eddie is a vampire, they’re great. Another favorite trope with these two is idiots-to-lovers. I love the way both these guys can be dumbasses for different reasons.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I think miscommunication (in a playful way, not so much an angsty way) is a favorite for me. Especially oblivious!Steve. Anything I can do to maneuver Steve into a slutty little outfit and have Eddie thirsting over him, I love it. Especially when Steve has no clue Eddie is thirsting over him. I think I have that in almost every single fic I write.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I have so many, it’s hard to list just one. “Sub-culture” by palmviolet was the first Steddie fic I read, so it has a special place in my heart. I’d also say “Rock of Ages” by BoudicaMuse and “You’re Divine” by OonionChiver. One I’m reading currently is called “House of Pain” by mynameis152. It features Steve and Eddie in a group home, and I really like the exploration of both of their characters.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I have a fic I’ve half-written with Merman!Eddie and Grad Student in Marine Biology!Steve (extremely loosely based off the chinese novel Desharow Merman). I think that’s one I’d love to explore in more depth.

What is your writing process like?

My process usually starts with daydreaming up a certain scene. Then, I’ll kind of expand it from there. Sometimes, I’ll take notes or write short outlines at night to get my thoughts down. Then, I’ll usually write a first draft. Something that’s pretty stream-of-consciousness. I don’t worry about it sounding good. Then I’ll delete most of my first draft and start over with a second, keeping only the parts I like the most.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I’m not sure if other people do this, but I think a quirk of mine is how much I’ve come to enjoy rewriting things. It’s not unusual for me to write half a chapter, delete the whole thing, and then start over again. I find that I typically like the second draft a lot better than the first. When I was younger, it was such a struggle to delete things and start over. It felt like I was erasing all my hard work. But now, I just see it as part of the process.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

This is a funny question for me because my favorite way to do things was definitely how I did Suspended Bridges. I had about 80% of the plot written before I posted anything, and as I posted each chapter, I could comfortably go back and edit each chapter/add foreshadowing/add substance to the fic before posting it. But I haven’t done it that way since then; now I pretty much post things as I write them.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I think I’m most proud of Suspended Bridges, partially because it’s the longest fic I’ve ever written, so I’m pretty proud of the work that went into it. I also am pretty proud of Just Because You’ve Done it Before, Doesn’t Mean You’ll Do It Better. It’s my most recent one, and I can feel myself growing as a writer as I write it.

How did you get the idea for Suspended Bridges?

Suspended Bridges is really an amalgamation of a lot of different pieces of inspiration. I think at the time, there weren’t a ton of omegaverse fics out for the pairing. I had a lot of omegaverse headcanons for the characters and how they would fit into an alternate season four. Since there weren’t a lot of fics out at the time, I figured if I wanted something that was so specific (canon divergence, Steve being a secret omega, life-saving mating bonds, etc) then I was going to have to write it myself.

When writing Suspended Bridges, what was something you didn’t expect?

I’d have to say 1. the writing process, and 2. the reception. Firstly, it was a really unique fic for me in that it was so easy to write. It felt like the words just flowed out of me. I wrote the first 60,000 words of it largely on my phone while on vacation. I just couldn’t stop writing. It was more than I’d ever written in one sitting before. Secondly, I was not expecting the reception it got at all. It is far and away the most popular thing I’d ever written, and I was so floored at the amazingly kind comments people wrote and the way it was able to resonate with so many people.

What inspired Just Because You've Done It Before Doesn't Mean You'll Do It Better?

I really like Time Travel Fix-Its, they’re one of my favorite types of fics. I watched this clip where a comedian was talking about how if he went back in time, he’d be effectively useless. And I thought to myself, “what would it be like to have someone go back in time and kind of mess things up even more?” which is what inspired this fic. Steve’s back in season 1, trying to change the past so that things can go better…but it’s a harder job than he expects. There’s a lot that he doesn’t know, and his assumptions about the world can often cloud his judgment.

What was your favorite part to write from Consensual Catfishing?

I think my favorite part was just all the little internet references. Consensual Catfishing was really fun to write because it was a bit of a love letter to my own fandom experiences. My favorite part might’ve been in chapter 1 when we see the clip of the 1DxY/N fic parody. I was laughing pretty hard as I wrote that. I also just liked all the little clips of Hellfire’s DnD podcast. I really enjoyed writing their friendship.

How do/did you feel writing In My Head (I See a Supercut of Us)?

Uh…horny? Haha Supercut was one of the most explicit fics I’d written and so sometimes I would kind of post it while blushing bright red haha. It was fun, though. I think comedy is a bit of a niche for me. I really like to write stuff that makes me laugh, and Supercut was definitely that. Steve’s first fantasy he gets dragged into cracks me up every time.

What was the most difficult part of writing finding a cozy place in you?

I think the hardest part was just making it short. I suck at writing one-shots, I typically like leaning into the conflict of the story and making some elaborate worldbuilding. But this one I wanted to be soft and sweet, to feel a bit like curling up on the sofa with a warm cup of tea. It was a different vibe than I usually write, so it definitely stretched me.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I think one of my favorite scenes is in Suspended Bridges, when I rewrote the fight against Vecna. There were a lot of powerful moments: Max, Dustin and El all standing up to Vecna at various moments, Steve playing Dustin’s song to stop his possession….then the life-saving bond right after that. That was definitely a highlight for me.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Right now I’m mainly looking at my current projects, rather than any future ones. If there’s one I’d promote, it would be “Just Because You’ve Done it Before, Doesn’t Mean You’ll Do It Better” It’s an omegaverse time-travel fic, where a gruff alpha Steve goes back into his season 1 (unpresented) body. He wants to change the past, save Barb, and get Nancy back, but there’s a lot he doesn’t know. And things get pretty off the rails when he presents as an omega in the new timeline.

Thank you to our author, foresthearts, and our anonymous nominator! See more of @kiaramori works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday #ao3 writer #steddie writers #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things

[selene-and-the-cold]

Taking a Ride (OCs, M/M)

Good evening, snzblr.

I successfully talked myself into fleshing out that Victorian carriage ride scenario a bit more. In a perfect universe, I would take enough time to make it the perfect fic. In that universe, I would write a first draft, then edit this, let it rest for a few more days, then re-edit, and edit some more until it was perfect, but since these past few weeks are the first time I've written anything in AGES and I don't trust this muse to be around forever, I am currently working on the premise: getting it done "ok" is better than getting nothing done at all.

Therefore, I do present the very fresh and un-beta-ed version of this little ficlet, featuring two spanking new OCs Silas and Albert, who did not exist 12 hours ago, yet here they are, making out in a carriage.

Thank you so much @empresskaze for solving my name-conondrum. I literally spent half the day not writing, but fussing over the name for one of the main characters and probalby wouldn't have gotten anything done if it weren't for your wonderful suggestion!

***

Taking a Ride

"Alright, but you've got to promise to be quiet, Bertie“ Lord Silas admonished, and was rewarded with another giggle from his dear friend the Honorable Sir Albert Percival Wardington. Perhaps they should have left their Gentlemen's Club one drink sooner when Albert had still been mainly sober. But it was no use lamenting now that the damage had been done and Albert sat opposite him in the carriage, all tipsy giggles.

"My coachman has excellent hearing, so we've got to be quiet to be discreet.“

"I know, I knowwwww, I'll be as quiet as a mouse, you can trust me, Sy, I promise!,“ Albert declared, then pretended to lock his lips with an invisible key, hiccuped and giggled once again.

“Alright, I believe you. You are in luck that I've been missing you so terribly while you were away on business in Cardiff, my dear Albert... Otherwise I might not have agreed to take you back to your town house in my carriage with me tonight.”

Albert sniffled thickly. “Mbuch obliged...”

“Ah, but I presume I have to come over to your side of the carriage, my dear,” Silas mused, “Otherwise this wouldn't be a true reunion, would it~ ?”

It was scandalous enough as it was that Albert was so visibly, undeniably tipsy, but now to be sharing his carriage with him, doing what they were... well... planning to do? Many a good God-fearing Christian matron would be utterly scandalised.

Fortunately, no good God-fearing Christian matrons were present at the moment, so Silas proceeded to sit on Albert's lap, straddling him, and holding his silken cravat as a kind of rein to keep himself steady.

„Now Bertie, that's much better, isn't it?“

Albert nodded, then sniffled suddenly and rubbed his nose against his palm before he answered.

"Mbuch better. You were so very far away all evening, especially during that awfully boring game of charades.“

"Alas, they assigned me to the other team or else we could have been seated next to each other,“ Silas agreed, making himself comfortable on Albert's lap. Albert grinned, his gaze only a little bit out of focus, then grabbed Silas' buttocks to steady him as well as to make up for all the time without the opportunity of touching each other. Silas gave a little high-pitched squeal, at which Albert tutted. "Sshhhhh.... you've got to be quiet, Sy, or your coachman will hear you! snfff Don't you remember?“

Silas playfully swatted Albert's shoulder at his reprimanding words. "Oh, you! Perhaps you should attempt finding a way to ensure that I'll be quiet from now on, then...”

"With pleasure,“ Albert murmured, his lips so close to Silas's that he could feel his hot, urgent breath crest against them. Albert smelled of brandy, lavender and sandalwood, topped off with some of the cigar-smoke that permeated the Gentlemen's club, and that special something Silas couldn't quite place, but that was Albert's very own scent, which reminded Silas of long walkds through the forest. In short – like a heady, absolutely delicious mix.

The next thing he knew, Albert closed the gap between them and kissed him passionately, hot lips burning against his, while Albert's fingers dug a little deeper into his buttocks.

Silas smirked into their kiss as he could feel Albert's reaction to his closeness grow underneath himself. It seemed that Albert could not restrain himself as good as he usually could while he was tipsy. Or perhaps Albert had missed him just as much as Silas had missed Albert.

“Careful, we cannot afford getting too carried away. You need to be in a state that allows you to leave the carriage as a respectable man once we arrive at your town house,” Silas admonished still the voice of reason despite how much he wanted Albert. It had been weeks since they'd spent a night together. Silas longed for Albert's familiar weight next to him in bed, but it was tricky to steal a night for themselves without it being too obvious. Fortunately, they were both bachelors, so there were only neighbours and servants to worry about, not wives.

“Mmhmm.. I don't want to be respectable,”Albert protested, sloppily kissing a trail down Silas' neck. “I want to be thoroughly wanton and outrageously indecent-...ehh....hehh... Heh'SSHHuH!”

Without much warning, Albert had sneezed all over Silas's neck, who sat stock-still for a moment, his pulse throbbing in his veins. Hell's teeth, this had felt surprisingly good.

“B- Bless you,” Silas stammered after a few moments, relaxing once more.

“I'b sorry...” Albert sniffled thickly against his neck, his voice sounding decidedly stuffy all of a sudden. “I think I caught a bit of a chill id Cardiff. It was ghastly cold 'n rainy while I was there.. Hehhh....ESSHhhTsshU! Ugh... pardon mbe.”

Another sneeze muffled right into Silas, who sighed in a sudden bout of pleasure, then pulled away afterwards to take a proper look at Albert's sniffly face. This close, he could see the dark circles under Albert's beautiful blue eyes, and the slight touch of pink around the edges of his nose.

“Mhm.. it seems you did indeed catch a chill, my dear Bertie,” Silas cooed, taking Albert's face in his hands to study it with more scrutiny. ”Judging from the way you look, it is no small chill, either... but don't fret, I'll keep you warm and distracted until you're home~”

With that, Silas tugged at Albert's cravat to reel him in for another kiss, deep and slow this time. A little voice in the back of his head told him that sticking his tongue down the throat of a sick man was probably not the best idea, but this was his Bertie, who had been gone for far too long and who was in dire need of some comfort, so sod all the qualms about getting sick as well.

The carriage rumbled over the cobblestone streets while the two men continued to kiss and caress in the back of it. Hands and mouths traveled through soft hair and warm skin, dipped under folds of expensive fabric to explore, tease, and tickle as the two men celebrated their reunion.

A few times, Silas had to shush Albert, whose usually calm demeanour somehow melted away in the throws of passion. So much so that Silas had had to resort to stuffing a cravat in Albert's mouth once before. Fortunately, no such measures had to be taken today, and Albert could be silenced by hushing and kisses alone.

As the carriage rolled over a particularly bumpy part of road, all the jostling created an interesting friction between Silas' and Albert's laps, their bodies rubbing delightfully against each other. Albert giggled yet again, then bucked his hips with Silas on top of him, before he asked with a most seductive little pout: “Dod't you think you could sndeak out of the carriage and come home with mbe, Sy? Just for tonight?”

Albert's voice was heavy with congestion by now, and he had barley finished his question, when a pitiful sneeze shuddered through him, sending both himself and Silas a little forward in his seat.

“Hehh'ERRrrSSHHU'!!!”

“Mhm, bless you again,” Silas purred, pulling a fine handkerchief from his suit pocket to dab at Albert's nose. It had started to run considerably at some point during their heated kisses, but there simply just had not been the right moment to take care of it. Silas had been far too distracted by Albert's hands, lips, teeth, and tongue all over him. Now that things calmed down a bit, Silas took a moment to take in Albert's features. He was quite pale, except for he wonderful blush that their shenanigans and perhaps the slightes touch of fever had painted on his cheeks. He looked utterly delicious and adorable and Silas regretted more than anything that he would have to decline.

“I'm afraid I can't, Bertie. There is an important meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning. My father wrote to inform me that he'll travel down from our country estate to meet me tomorrow morning. Apparently, he wants to have a word regarding some urgent business. I'm sure it's terribly boring, but I am obliged to attend.”

Being a second son, Silas mostly had the pleasure and leasure to do as he pleased. No one excpected him to marry and produce an heir. This was all taken care of by his older brother Reginald, thank God! In fact, no one expected anything much of him, but Silas was not the type of person to waste his life away in complete idleness, so he took an interest in the family affairs and supported his father and brother in running the family estate as well as managing their land and tenants.

“Besides, I do belive you should take some time to rest, my dear. If I were to join you, you'd surely not get remotely as much rest as this cold of yours demands.”

Albert pouted, then sniffled dramatically, congestion shifting audibly as he did.

“Promise you'll get plenty of rest tomorrow?,” Silas asked softly, cupping Albert's cheek. Their joined carriage ride was almost over as the carriage had just turned into Albert's street.

“Only if you prombise to visit mbe od mby sickbed as soon as that dastardly business with your father is done and dealt with.”

“I will, I promise,” Silas assured, then stole one last tender kiss before the carriage began to slow down.

The two men hastily smoothed away any signs of disarray from their clothes as well as their faces, so that Albert emerged a few moments later from the carriage with his usual mask of bland disinterest in place, seeming for all the world that nothing noteworthy had happened that night – except for a few too many drinks and the early stages of a terribly contagious headcold.

#Colds #Snz #Basically two guys getting it on in a carriage while one of them is coming down with a cold #my writing #Silas x Albert #OCs #tipsy snz #contagion

[ruiniel]

Hello!

I hope your feeling better, I myself have been feeling like crap lately so you have my sympathies.

I saw your post on glorfindel and was wondering if you'd be happy with more tolkien requests, though I definitely love your castlevania works!

That being said, may I request a glorfindel and a human lady reader?

Thank you for sending! And yes, welcoming Tolkien requests.

I redid an older Glorfindel scene for this... wanted to 'revive' it instead of letting it sit in my drafts. Might follow up with something NSFW, not sure?

General note: also working on the older asks, it's taking forever

Lairë

Pairing: Glorfindel x human fem!reader

Count: 0.5k

Rating: T

Forlond, Lindon, late Second Age

“Laurefindil, Laurefindil!”

He turns from his musing at the sound of his name, his eyes torn from the swaying waves. The day has given way to dusk, and it’s been one of clear skies and mild winds. He breathes the salty breeze, his chest filling with the rush and flow come from the sea depths.

You’re breathless when you reach his side, taking him by the arm. “Look, look a whale! Do you see it? Look there, to the East!”

Glorfindel watches you for a moment, smiling at the sight of your sparkling eyes. He follows your pointing finger. Indeed he sees the tip of a tail splashing silver foam away in the far distance, just where the Gulf of Lune flows into the sea. “I do see it… well done,” he glances back at you. 

Your hair is loose, your dress wet, the sheer material clinging to your thighs and legs after a spree in the shallow waters kissing the shore. Glorfindel himself is unshod, his plain grey tunic reaching his knees, his trousers rolled up to his calves. 

“Well done indeed, and I win, my lord,” you tease, a finger pointing at his chest. “And you know the wager. Tonight, you dance.” His frown makes you chuckle. 

“I most certainly will not.”

You cross your arms. “That was the wager. You took it. I said that I saw them, and you asked me to prove it. I did. Or does Lord Laurefindil only keep his word when it suits?” For a long time, you’d taken to calling him by his Quenya name, knowing it gladdens him to hear it. “No, you promised. Imagine the look on their faces!”

The Elf shakes his head. “You’re being childish.”

Whatever else he may have uttered, it is lost with the way you barrel into him, and even Glorfindel loses his balance with the swiftness of your movements. The sand is warm beneath him, but it’s also in his mouth and ears. Your face hovers into view, framed by salty locks, eyes now twinkling mirthfully above him. “Rise and let me up, or you go unaccompanied to your dancing tonight.” He tries to sound demanding, but somehow, in the short years he’s known you, you’d come to see through most of his devices. 

A half-smile graces your lips, your arms propped on his shoulders. “Make me.” 

He could never stay upset with you for long, pretend or not. His hands slip along your thighs, up your hips, settling there. He closes his eyes at the warmth of your mouth, trailing along his chin, to his lips. His grip tightens on your hips.

And then he’s fast on his feet, even with you struggling and laughing in his arms.

“Put me down, you cannot! Put me down! Laurefindil! You will regret this!”

Still smiling he carries you, futile resistance and all, to the shore. Glorfindel advances into the lazy waves, painted gold and green in the sunset.  “No,” he takes your chin between his fingers. “You will.” And he drops you.

You gasp when cold water douses your sun-warmed skin, thrashing to be free of him. Anyone passing would stand perplexed at the sight of a famed Balrog slayer jestingly dunking the head of a young maiden beneath the sea while she grapples and tugs at his clothing like a writhing handmaiden of Uinen. Your laughter glitters along the shore, lost in the faraway winds.

#glorfindel x reader #glorfindel x you #ruiniel:fanfiction #middle earth x reader #glorfindel x oc #silmarillion x reader #middle earth imagine #lotr x reader

[tr4gictea]

OMG! I JUST READ SOME OF YOUR WRITINGS AND LOVE THEM! So I wanted to request! :D

Maybe Al Haitham helping Gender neutral teen reader with homework because their having some trouble on a problem?

(I can see Alhaitham being good a math)

❥Masterlist

Tags: kinda Crackfic, alhaitham is bad at teaching, crying reader, you suck at math

A/n: Hi! This took me way too long to post even tho it was just sitting in my drafts. There are definitely spelling mistakes in here, please let me know how i can improve pls. Love u all <3

- Um, this homework session may not be as wholesome as you thought. Did your dad have to help you with homework and when you didn’t get it he would get frustrated with you and then you’d start crying. Yeah, that’s how this is going to go.

- Alhaithem is a bright man and I can see him getting math concepts easily. But he’s terrible at explaining them and when someone doesn't get the concepts as easily as him he gets a bit frustrated and goes through 5 stages of grief:

1. Tone Change: He won’t yell at you but his tone will get deeper after the fifth or fourth time you got the question wrong.  

“Sigh, (Y/n) I don’t know why this is so hard for you.” Alhaithem said, sighing “The book even explains how to do it in the book.” 

“But what if I have two variables on both sides?” 

“Then you get rid of it.”

“So like this?” You said as you took the eraser and erased the x out of the question 12+x = 30+3x.

“NO, didn’t your teacher tell you how to get rid of variables?”

“Yeah but she was talking too fast and I got behind.” 

“I don’t understand what’s so hard about it even if the teacher was talking too fast you should be able to catch up easily.”

“...” 

2. Movement: He’ll sigh and lean back in his chair, hands over his eyes, and aggressive pointing or tapping.

Alhaithem had his head in his hands and his elbows on the table. The problem was so simple, how could you not get it? He could do these kinds of problems in under a minute when he was half your age. 

“Alhaithem,” He had been silence for about 10 minutes and all he was doing was leaning back in his chair and groaning. 

“Yes?” 

“I still need help with my homework.” 

“Well until you find what 12 x 8 is then I can’t help you.” Alhaithem said after aggressively tapping the equation. 

“You seem like you know so why don’t you just tell me?” 

“Because you need this experience,”

You decided that you weren’t going to get any kind of help out of him so you tried figuring it out on your own asking if a certain number was correct and each time he said no. 

“I-i Don-n’t know.” After the 12th try you broke down and started crying.

“(Y/n) don’t start crying now,”

3. Talking: Talking about how he doesn't wanna spend all day trying to help you with math and he doesn’t know why you're crying right now.

“...You know if you just listened to your teacher during the lecture you would be having this much trouble with math. When I was you age…” It was about 8:00 pm and Alhaithem was giving a you a lecture on how not hard math is and this is simple. “...and I don’t know why you're crying right now, I’m only trying to help you…” 

4. Kaveh: He asks Kaveh to help you because he needs to get work done.

After he finished with his lecture he said he couldn’t do this and he had work to do. He asked Kaveh to help you with your math problem. While he’s doing his scribe work he’s think of how much trouble Kaveh is going to have trying to explain the problem to you. He thinks that if he can’t help you none can.

5. What do you mean he’s better?: When he comes back out you will be done with your homework and surprised when you told him Kaveh explained it better.

“I don’t understand what you're being such a grump about. They got the concepts easily.” Kaveh said with Alhaithem wondering how Kaveh, a broke architect, could have explained it better than him, who has multiple degrees in math. 

“And you got this done in 10 minutes?” Alhaithem questioned.

“Yeah,”

Unconvinced that Kaveh didn’t just do the problems for you he marched towards the couch where you sat and stood in front of you and crossed his arms. “(Y/n), how do you get rid of the number in 2x?”

“You divide the 2 by the 2 and do that on the other side of the equation.” 

WHAT HOW COULD THIS BE?! HE EXPLAINED THIS TO YOU 34 TIMES (he counted) AND YOU NEVER GOT IT! 

“What do you do first in an equation? Multiple, divide, add, or subtract?” This was a trick question so there was no way you’d get it corr-

“You’re supposed to do the equation in the parentheses first but if there are no parentheses than multiply.” You said without looking up from your book.

Alhaithem was in shock, “I-I have work to do…”

-if you don’t have trouble with math then he won’t even try to help you

Pls send in request

#genshin impact #genshin x teen reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin #platonic genshin impact #alhaitham #kaveh #genshin impact angst kinda if you squint really hard #Idk why it’s taking me this long to post this it was just sitting in my drafts #sumeru

[cloveroctobers]

OCTOBER PROMPTS 🎃 — 8. Hector

A/N: the way I always had something in the drafts to write for my beloved man like back during the summer time. The universe had other plans and what better time than to revisit this episode on Halloween! I think this is my first time ever writing on the day of this superior season?! Happy Halloween people 🧡 🪄

WARNINGS: language + hints of sexual tension 😅

PROMPT is from HERE + I’m using: “I love you, I swear I do but we’re not wearing matching costumes.”

₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚

[~October. 2000’s~]

Oh the wonders of being a big time celebrity during the month of Halloween. That’s right, a whole entire month! Which felt like so because you were constantly in the limelight with people not only dissecting your love life but also your roles which consisted of either being the lead scream queen in a thriller series, supporting actress in horror movies, and also being the star drummer (on some Sheila E shit!) and backup singer of a Alt-Pop girl band on the side.

So yes, you stayed busy and were worth talking about.

“Whatever you decide to be this year has to be big. I mean Destiny’s child, Britney Spears, Zac and Vanessa, and Halle Berry are all gonna be here at your party this year.” Your manager/publicist ranted as she paced the floor in your open concept closet.

You’re lounging on your studded chaise lounge chair, texting away on your blackberry while chewing on some gum, half listening, “Halle’s my god-mom, of course she will be here to support but who else is on this list exactly?”

“I invited pretty much everyone, the hottest stars even those who may or may be in your age range. It doesn’t matter! As long as you get good pics that brings fresh press.” Natania voiced as she began flipping through a notepad.

You hum knowing the deal, considering you’ve been in the limelight since you were fourteen so this was not anything entirely new. “I’ve got the perfect outfit for Hector and I.”

Natania glances up from writing, “funny you mention him after I say press.”

“Him has a name and who also happens to be my boyfriend?”

“Don’t remind me,” Natania mutters, “and just to think you could still be with Taylor Lautner right now. His stats are only climbing after ‘Breaking Dawn Part I,’ dropped and I can only imagine how much more attention he’s gonna get.”

Shrugging your shoulders you say, “I’ve got more than enough attention with and without a guy by my side. It was fun while it lasted but as soon as he booked the role for twilight, the distance just grew. It was all only a matter of time.”

At sixteen and seventeen years old you got into a relationship, naturally with who everyone may know as Jacob Black but he was just Taylor to you. You met way back in a martial arts class that your uncle actually taught but you didn’t end up sticking with it thanks to a tv series you booked. You met again not long after at a audition for “Sharkboy and LavaGirl.”

“Well the both of you could have at least faked it for a little!” Natania almost stomped her feet before sighing, “I mean Taylor still talks highly about you although you decided to pick a old paparazzi instead as your new fling.”

“I wouldn’t expect him to say anything less,” you blinked, “wasn’t a bad break up anyway and I don’t pay you to make judgements on who I date. I pay for you to manage my career, not my personal life, sooo mind yours.”

Natania rolled her eyes beneath her glasses, “whatever, you’re right. I’m just saying you could have done better. There’s just something off about him—Hector and not the whole follow people like you around for cash either.”

“Nat!” You hissed, “shut up already, hector’s coming over, he’s gonna be at that party with me and that’s that. When’s the stylist coming over?”

Natania puts on a forced smile and glances at the watch on her wrist, “in about a hour.”

“Great! Hector says he’ll be here in fifteen so that gives us a little down time. You can let yourself out whenever you’re ready.” You state laying back to rest your eyes.

You’ve been up since six thirty this morning doing a extreme workout routine you didn’t like with a trainer who took it too seriously. You were more of a cardio person than juggling ropes, jumping and squatting, and flipping over tires.

Soon the door bell rings and you pry one eye open to see the monitor by the door glowing, making you aware who it could be. Groaning you took your time getting closer to the screen, seeing no one there. Shrugging to yourself, you plopped down on the lounge just as your closet door budged open revealing your stylist and no other than your boyfriend, Hector.

Lounging on your elbows you smile and wave at the two.

“No, please. Don’t get up, I got it.” Your stylist wheeled in a rack while you laughed at the usual sarcasm.

“Hey, baby.” You craned your neck to meet Hector’s lips as he leaned over you in greeting before sitting next to you, “what happened to fifteen minutes?”

Hector laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck, knowing that he was late, “traffic? Even on my bike and Hunger…”

You hum at this.

“Just burgers.” Hector whispers as you shrug your shoulders.

You knew what it was like, actually dating someone in the supernatural world. It could always go one or two ways and of course there were heavy rumors surrounding Hector since he was there at the time of Mazey Day’s death. He should have been dead—especially with the amount of damage done to his body, you knew what he and Bo were up to and the pictures Bo showed you was not something you would forget.

However Hector was meant to live and see it through…and he did with the help of your family.

They got to him first.

That’s right, a long history of, “werewolf or wolf training,” depending on which form. You had more experience with simply wolfs while the higher skilled like your parents and siblings dealt with the werewolf’s. Due to your involvement with the spotlight you didn’t have much time for…family activities but you weren’t completely clueless.

If you were able to get to Mazey Day in time, perhaps things could have been different. No one really knew and some still didnt accept what it was.

Werewolves were fucking real and you so happened to be dating one.

“Soooo,” you drag pushing yourself up once more to face Hector with a tired smile, “I’ve got an idea of what we should be for Halloween.”

“Aw but you didn’t see what Freddie brought yet.”

“Oh it’s in there alright,” you push off the chair to head over to Freddie who has measuring tape draped over his shoulders.

You do the honors of taking the protective cover off the clothes and run your fingers over the various fabrics, “we have DoubleDare contestants from the 90s, or you can be Cupid and I’ll be a large fuzzy heart, or my personal fav: little red riding hood and her werewolf of a grandmother.”

Hector blinks after briefly studying the costumes and says, “I love you, I swear I do but we’re not wearing matching costumes.”

“Uh oh,” Freddie mutters while you frown at the curly haired man.

“And why the hell not? The last option is the best one.”

“I get that one,” Hector replies with a knowing look in his dark eyes, “but don’t you think it’s a little…corny?”

“We’re supposed to be corny! You’re my boyfriend and I’m your girl.” Digging your fists into your hips and peer at Hector who snorts.

“Yeah but—

“At least try it on! I mean if we’re gonna be at my party together shouldn’t we at least match?”

Hector lightly grips your wrist to pull you from Freddie’s ear shot, “it’s gonna be a full moon that night.”

“Even better.”

“For who? Not me.”

“It’s been a year already,” you slip your hand down to squeeze his, “you’re gonna be fine.”

“That’s not what your mom believes.” Hector’s shoulders almost slump, which irritates you, the fact that your mother was always getting into his head was not something foreign to you but when she started to do it to people you cared about, that’s when it became a problem.

“Newsflash, she doesn’t know everything like she claims.”

“I mean I should listen to her since…”

“Since she’s more skilled than me? Ah alright well I get it. Look, I’m not gonna peer pressure you. I just know I wouldn’t have you here if I didn’t think you could handle it. We’d take all the proper precautions a few days before just like I planned but if you really don’t feel comfortable…we’ll just make sure to take the pictures in advance and we’ll go from there.”

Hector studies you then. He knew that it was hard to be around each other sometimes whenever the moon shifted. He was thankful he got another chance at life…sure but life just become a whole lot more difficult now with this new lifestyle and being legit involved with someone in the public eye. No doubt he’s thought about it before but never pictured it happening and Bo also told him it was a bad idea after figuring out that he basically resurrected and could transform into a hairy ass creature!

You lived one way and he lived another, there were contrasts to you just like the sun and the moon, the pair of you worked taking turns to let the other breathe separately. Space was efficient when it came to your relationship but when you were together? That opened up a whole new feeling. A scary one. He wasn’t sure if this relationship would be long term but he had the chance to see you for what you are beyond the lights and that was a treat in itself.

He exhales, lifting a hand to cup the side of your face, “…let’s try these costumes on then.”

And you squeal, hopping into his arms and he holds onto you as you lock your legs around his hips, his beaming smile meeting yours as you peck all along his handsome face.

“We look foolish,” Hector comments as he readjusts the gingham hat on top of his head while you stand side by side in a full length mirror.

You laugh as you wrap your arms around the curly haired man in the floral green nightgown, “correction: we look fine as hell.”

“Fine enough to where I don’t need to spend two hours sitting in a chair having ass cramps and getting wolf prosthetics on?” Hector slips on his circular glasses and peeks over them at your reflection.

Red was certainly your color.

You snort, “you could always let the moon do it’s thing.”

“That’s not even funny.”

Pressing your chin against the back of his shoulder you say, “Wanna give me a little snarl or something?”

Hector sends you a pointed look as you trail one hand up to twist one of his damp curls, “Oh Granny, what pretty curls you have.”

“All the better for you to tug my dear,” Hector begins to play along.

A smirk makes its way onto your red painted lips, “Oh granny, what a beautiful face you have.”

“All the better for you to,” Hector starts before quickly twisting his body to yank you tight against his body, “sit on.”

You see the specs of ember swirling in Hector’s ink eyes now and you know you were pushing it as the length of his nails began to poke at the fabric of your red hood.

He then places a open mouthed kiss to your beating throat, “you didn’t say anything about my teeth.”

Standing up some with your hands locked around his neck now, you lean just a bit closer so that your forehead presses against Hector’s; you reply just as some knocks sounded at your closet door, “Now that’s satire.”

Hector let’s out a small laugh as you untangle yourself from his grasp to get the door, making a show of pointing the makeup artists in his direction only.

With your confidence in him and against the full moon, Hector can’t help but to shrug his shoulders and take a seat peeking at the face he got used to over the years. Somehow even this skin felt different and not just the scars embedded.

He just hoped you were right but knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Well…here’s to a new change of course for Halloween! That might actually be terrifying but as long as he had you on his team, his doubts and speculations from outsiders—which he used to be—didn’t seem to matter as much anymore.

₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚

Continue along with my fall anthology prompts here.

#black mirror #halloween writing prompts #black mirror mazey day #mazey day #black mirror Hector #danny ramirez #Danny Ramirez x reader #october prompts #Spotify

[lexinympho]

Stifling Ravishment

[NSFW, MDNI]

Takami Keigo x gn!reader

Summary: You convince Keigo to let you try something new on him in the bedroom, Keigo obliges at the promise of a good time.

WC: 2.4k

Tags/Warnings: A bit of fluff, smut (overstimulation, handjob, edging, oral male receiving, dry orgasm, sounding kink [pls practice this safely], slight sub Keigo + dom reader), one mention of pee and UTIs

A/N: This one's been brewing in my mind and burning a hole in my drafts for a few months now, and I finally decided to finish it up. I don't see enough rep for this kink, so of course I had to write about it myself-

"Oh fuck me..."

"That's technically what I'm doing, bird boy."

The intensity of the glare you received from the winged man was severely diminished by his current demeanor.

Your hold on Keigo's flushed and half erect dick remains intact. One hand is wrapped around his member while the other is gloved and immobile, keeping the silicone sound in place as he adjusts to the foreign intrusion. His knuckles are white as the sheet he's clinging to for some semblance of respite while his chest is glossed over with sweat from his heavy breathing. You don't bother hiding your delightment for his vulnerable state, internally laughing to yourself thinking of the change between now and earlier when he said he could handle this with ease.

He at first displayed bravado when he confidently agreed to do this, but you knew better and saw the hesitance lingering underneath once he got undressed. The research and mere idea of sticking something in *there* had his resolve waver for a bit, but he still planned to go through with it at the promise of a good time (who was he to say no to something you've been wanting to try for ages). He even somehow convinced you to start him off with the bumpy silicone rather than the smooth titanium you had in mind, but he seems to be taking it just fine. You'll admit though, you didn't expect him to be so receptive, and that only served to make the view before you much more rewarding.

Absolutely alluring.

You broke the consistent sound of his laboured breaths after some time of letting him get used to the rod, "Keigo."

He faintly heard you call his name and he intended to say something in acknowledgement, yet the haze currently flooding his senses leaves him unable to verbally respond. He knows why you called out to him. He's supposed to stay still, but that's much easier said than done when-

"Are you ready?"

"Huh?" Having his thoughts broken so suddenly has his clouded mind playing catch up while trying to decipher what exactly he should be ready for.

"I'm gonna push it in all the way to the ring."

"W-Wait!" He worked to get his breathing somewhat under control while his feathers ruffle behind him with each exhale. The death grip he had on the sheets slackened as he splayed his palms over the heated material, and he nodded once he was ready, not trusting his warbling voice enough to not make him sound like a bitch in heat. There's also the matter of him trying to keep his dick from getting too erect before you finish putting the rod in. You don't bother asking if he's okay like you did minutes ago, knowing that if he wanted you to slow down or stop he'd simply give you the word. You shift in your spot across from him and get into a more comfortable position, opting to lay down on your torso to shamelessly get a closer look, before applying the smallest bit of pressure to the rod's handle.

"Shit-" The curse slipped out without warning as his brain blanked on him the moment it slipped a few measly centimeters deeper. The slick movement was made possible with the copious amount of lube you applied beforehand, as well as the near constant flow of precum at the obscenity of this act. His back arched a bit from the strong tingles that ran up his spine, and he nearly fell backwards without the aid of the headboard and some pillows.

Is he crying? No, just tearing up.

"Baby, you have to relax for me." You spoke softly, knowing he's doing his best to not jolt around too much. You take one hand to rub at his thigh and calm his trembling, the action serving it's purpose by grounding him to the point that only his wings are restless with their frequent twitches.

His watery orbs opened with an involuntary whimper from his lips. He struggles to keep his hips glued to the bed at the feeling of your gentle ministrations combined with the overwhelming pleasure stemming from his lower half. He's well aware of the shameful position he's in, completely bare while you're fully clothed. That's far in the back of his mind with the loud pounding of his heart resounding directly in his ears, yet he's marginally able to hear your whispers of encouragement and finds solace in your tenderness. He's thankful for the lack of condescension and "told you so"s from your side, he's a bit too sensitive and gooey in the head to handle anything like that at the moment.

Those articles did absolutely nothing to prepare him for how fucking good this would feel.

He closed his eyes once again, the action sending a few tears down his cheeks, and the lack of sight made him acutely aware of the rod going further into him. It feels wrong, it feels good, it feel weird, it feels right, his brain struggled to pick a description while it tried to manage his breathing. The smooth ridges of the silicone rod somehow rub against all the right spots with each gentle push and pull you give it. It's going deeper as a result, the realization pulling a deep groan from his chest once he feels the tip near its stopping point. His brain briefly flitted through his earlier research on this sensual act, something about plunging. As concerning as the concept sounded when he first looked it up, his current experience has him wondering if going further would be any better than this. What's life without a few risks?

Maybe we should try tha-

"OH-" his exclamation was interrupted by an endless string of moans, none of which could be muffled due to his slackened jaw. He realized you had let go of the ring at some point during his ruminating in favor of giving him a handjob without warning. You're not applying much pressure in your grip, but the pleased expression you're donning tells him you know that's all you need to drive him crazy. You also know Keigo is beyond the point of restraint judging from his semi-crossed eyes and the near constant bucking of his hips. He's not even aware of his wings being squished into the pillows meant to keep him upright, the bit of typical first time discomfort mixed with the pleasure keeps him distracted.

"Look," You gave a heated smile as the hand you weren't using to slowly jerk him off places itself back on his thigh, "it's all the way in."

In spite of his pulse thumping strongly in his ears, he heard you clearly and opened his eyes with a sniffle to see what you're talking about. Sure enough, the only thing left sticking out is the ring, all 4 inches have disappeared and his pulsating dick looks ready to burst. Something about the sight makes his body heat up and simultaneously calm down.

God, this is humiliating.

You paid no mind to your back growing tired of your stomach down position, more interested in establishing a steady but still slow rhythm of jerking him off while fondling his tightened balls. He immediately let out a cross between a sigh and a moan from the overwhelming stimulation as his thighs trembled uncontrollably, feeling an immense amount of pressure in his lower half warning him of an oncoming orgasm. And yet, as good as this all feels, he found himself craving a bit more to push himself over the edge.

He swallowed upon feeling how dry his throat is and began to ask while squirming in place, "Can I, uh..."

You pulled your attention away from your activites to see him glancing off to the side and pointing at the rod. With a teasing purse of your lips, you pause your ministrations and respond to his half spoken request, "You're getting a little greedy, aren't you?"

With a narrow of his glossed over eyes, he asks impatiently with a hoarse voice, "Can I do it or not?" He quickly tacked on a 'please' when you sent him a certain look at the demanding tone.

Brat. You have half a mind to reprimand him, but you push that urge aside for later and simply tell him, "Knock yourself out~" You watch intently when he eagerly raises a hand to the ring and pulls ever so slightly, built up precum starting to pool a bit around the rod. He took a sharp inhale of breath once he found a pace and threw his head back in utter bliss, making for an enticing scene you couldn't help biting your lip at. You returned to your services and resumed lightly tugging at his swollen cock, occasionally pressing kisses back and forth between his length and tender balls.

"Mmm, fuuuuck, 'm so close~" The build up is undoubtedly much more intense than any orgasm he's had before, borderline painful yet equally pleasurable. Am I a masochist? Gulping for air by this point, his legs quivered around your head as he whines and nearly pulls the rod out for some kind of release, only for you to let go of his dick and say sternly, "Don't."

Your tone coupled with you stopping his action pulled a loud sob out of him, only spurring his tears and high strung emotions, "It hurts, I can't cum!"

The immense delight radiating from you was clear as day when he sent you a look of pure desperation, wings flapping furiously and face drenched by tears and sweat. "I wanna try something real quick, you can cum afterwards, pretty," you stated eagerly.

In spite of his distress at you postponing his relief, he keened at the promise of it eventually coming his way and kept his protests to himself. Though he's confused as to what exactly you want to do to him, you're not saying anything and his only hint is your thumb ever so lightly grazing his perineum. It wasn't until you ground down on it with your digit and forced a guttural sound from him that he figured out your plan for him.

"There it is~"

Oh fuck.

You were merciless in abusing his prostate, pressing down with just the right amount of force to teeter on the line separating 'too much' and 'not enough'. With you deciding out of nowhere to slowly lick a stripe up his dick at the same time, you had the grown man right where you wanted him, overwrought by pleasure and pleading for respite as he tries (and fails) to suppress his frenzied movements. It didn't take long for the pent up tension to snap weirdly, resulting in him throwing his head back with a long pornographic moan. It felt amazingly terrible if one were to ask him how a dry orgasm felt. You'd expect the pleasure to end right there, but the sensation of nothing being able to bypass the rod was pure torture, akin to being trapped in a neverending loop of arousal with no way of being sated. It also doesn't help that you're still going-

"Fuck, fuck, too much!" He shot a hand out to hold yours and subsequently stop your reign of terror for a little, though it did little to quell his fever ridden frame or calm his quaking. You decide to cut him some slack when he appears to be in a serious internal debate over letting you continue or pulling you away entirely. You don't give him much breathing time when you finally grasped the ringed handle of the rod and pulled on it, the leisurely pace being downright torturous for him since you started doing so without warning. You would've wanted to wait until he'd gone mostly flaccid to pull it out, but patience is nonexistent for you (and him based on his expression), and the rod's flexible enough for this anyway.

The instant it's completely out, you take half of him into your drooling mouth and pump the rest, knowing he'd require little to no effort since he was long overdue to cum. And you were right, he lurched forward and unintentionally shoved you further down his cock by pushing on your head, giving you a minuscule amount of room to prepare yourself for the copious strings of cum shooting down your throat. The loudly alleviating sobs he let out overshadowed your gulps and groans of slight displeasure from the unwarranted manhandling; Keigo's disposition made the experience more bearable though, and it wasn't all that detestable if you were being honest with yourself.

You didn't stop sucking on the bulbous head until he wearily threw himself back into the pillows, his weakened arms pushing at your head with each overstimulated jolt of his hips. Once you relented, you sat yourself up to lean forward and peck his lips, "You okay? That was pretty intense."

His overworked vocal chords felt the strain of reaching tones and volumes he wouldn't normally touch, not to mention his body catching up on the air it lost out on during all of this. But he responded anyway, "Good, 'm good..."

"You did good, too. Thank you Kei'." You placed yourself beside him and pulled his body to you for the much needed tlc it deserved, wiping his face with a tissue you grabbed on your way towards him. He obliged and let you do as you please, wrapping his arms around you and letting his body go lax from your loving whispers of praise coaxing him into a clearer headspace. It didn't take too long for him to regain some clarity with the help of your touches and a couple sips of the bottled water on the nightstand, "Y'know it almost looked like you enjoyed this as much as me."

A breath akin to a laugh escaped you as you kissed at his hairline, "Well, it was something I'd been wanting to see in person." A beat of silence passed between the both of you, only scarcely broken by Keigo's breaths stabilizing and two mutual whispers of 'I love you's, before you spoke, "Oh yeah, you gotta pee after that."

Keigo removed his forehead from your collarbone to give you a scrutinizing look, "I was literally about to fall asleep."

"Love you too pretty boy, let's take a bath while we're at it." Though it was a little comedic seeing his sleepiness snuff out his usual attention to aftercare, you'd prefer to avoid any accidental mishaps of UTI's.

He got up with a huff, but listened to you and followed you to the bathroom on his incapacitated legs (he did kind of have to pee after you mentioned it).

©lexinympho 2022, please do not edit or repost my works anywhere on this platform or another

#hawks x y/n #takami keigo x reader #sub keigo #kind of i guess #bnha smut #smut #mha smut #boku no hero academia x you #my hero academia x you #hawks smut #takami keigo smut #keigo smut #this ending sucks but i literally had to finish it so my mind could move on to the other wips #hawks x reader #hawks x you #«lexi's smut»

[musingsbycaitlin]

WIP Intro - The Greyhound Club, a novel

Hi, hello, welcome to another wip. I haven’t done one of these in ages but I finally have some new ideas thanks to uni.

The Greyhound Club is a science fiction, literary novel that follows lab tech Gwen as she uncovers the perhaps unsavoury and sinister goings on within the company she works for. Her role within the company is to help engineer and develop the science behind robotic, ai carers for the elderly or injured. However, is there something more to her job that she isn’t being told? And will the new hire she is charged with training help lead her to uncovering the truth behind it all? Who is the elusive and elitist Greyhound Club that consists of the ‘best’ employees from each department, and what do they really do to deserve all of those benefits? Does it have anything to do with Gwen’s experiments? What is the price for finding out the truth?

Genre: science fiction, literary, horror

Setting: undetermined city in England, 2026/a few years in the future

POV: first person, present tense

Status: initial drafting/planning

Vibes/Aesthetics: smog covered motorways, the sizzle of stubbing out a cigarette, a half-filled car park, drawing frowny faces on frosted windows, clicking of a mouse, Uncle Sam posters ripped in half, dead rose bushes, choking on a plastic bag, twisting an ankle, spit on concrete, the smell after rain, dew lined skin, stainless steel, half-fogged glasses.

Unfortunately I can’t post an extract here yet since the assignment is still ongoing but after the hand-in in May I will update with some extracts. But I’m really happy with this idea overall and I think the vibes are super different to things I’ve written before. I tend to go really bloody and gory with horror and the vibes usually have more colour and pigmentation, however with this one I really wanted to mute everything down to the minimum and see what I could extract from those small moments and what will arise from the nothingness. I have also never specifically set a story in England, where I’m from, and I found that so unusual since I have never been to America or any other place I seem to gravitate to when coming up with settings. So rainy England seemed a perfect change of pace. I’ve also been listening to a new album in order to help visualise and get in the headspace of the story more so if you want an even more explicit depiction of the vibes then listen to Kesha’s album, Gag Order.

I’m hoping to be doing small updates on this as I get further through the drafting process as part of my assignment (which is only 3000-3500 words) and try and be a bit more consistent on this one because I really see this going all the way. Idk, I might be delusional but a little doesn’t hurt.

If you have questions then please ask cos I love talking about my work and my characters and my vibes. Also if anyone has any comp titles that would be really appreciated cos I don’t read much sci-fi. And of course if you want to added to the taglist then please let me know.

Taglist:

@annlillyjose @dallonwrites @aesa @winterandwords @iannicellis @isherwoodj @writeouswriter

#hopefully i stick to this one #i really want to #hold me accountable please #writeblr #wip #wip intro #my writing #atlastracking #lit fic #scifi #science fiction #the greyhound club