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vivwritesfics · 4 months

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Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter One - Olivia Ricciardo

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.6K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

Series Masterlist

Olivia Ricciardo came running out of daycare with a wide grin on her face. Her grandparents just wished her dad could have been there to see it as she ran into their arms. It wasn’t his fault; even once his little girl was born, he still had a job to do.

Daniel was there for half of the week at least. But for the rest of the week, his parents took care of her, feeding her, letting her sleep in the bedroom she had in their house, and transporting her to and from daycare. Every time her dad would leave, Olivia would scream and cry for at least a couple of hours. At least until her grandparents had her facetiming her father and Daniel could talk to his little girl.

This time, when Olivia came running out to her grandparents car, she immediately asked if she could call her daddy. “I wanna tell him about the new friend I made!” she said through a wide grin as she bounced in her seat.

As her grandma drove, her grandpa pulled out his phone, calling Daniel. He kept a hold of the phone until his son picked up. After saying hello to him, he passed the phone back to Olivia. “Hi daddy!” She called, but Daniel could hardly see her from how much she was moving the phone around.

“Hi, Livvy!” Daniel grinned at his daughter. He’d missed her so much this week. His short break the year before, before he had been placed in the AlphaTauri, he’d spent the entire time with Olivia. He’d only gone to the races on the weekends, and since Olivia only went to daycare on Tuesday to Friday, she went with him.

But now that Daniel was driving again, he left Olivia with his parents. He didn’t want to take her out of daycare to be at his races; that was how she socialized. And this was proof of that.

“Daddy, I made a new friend!” Olivia shouted.

Daniel couldn’t stop his grin from becoming wider at that. “That’s great news Livvy!” He shouted, telling the news to whoever was near him.

Suddenly the phone moved away from her dad. Olivia watched as somebody else grabbed hold of the phone, holding it in front of his face. “Hi, Livia!” Said her Uncle Max as he held the phone up in front of his face. As usual, he wore his Redbull hat. This one had a number One on it. Olivia had several Redbull hats. She had several with her dad’s number and one of Max’s old ones, with the thirty-three on it. “Your dad tells me you made a new friend!”

“Yeah, uncle Max. His name is Milo and he shared his crayons with me so that I could do my colouring book.”

"That's great, Livia!" Max said.

He said his goodbyes and passed the phone back to Daniel, who was only too happy to be talking to his daughter again. "Maybe you could invite Milo round for a playdate when you're back from your mums house, Jelly Bean," he said and the smile dropped from Olivias face.

It was so secret who Olivias favourite parents was. Even though she rarely got to see him, she loved her dad more than anything. Daniel didn't know what happened at his ex's place in what made Olivia hate it so much, but he had no right to stop it.

If he tried, his ex could easily pull up the fact that Daniel was never there and his parents saw Olivia more than he did. If Olivia would tell him why she hated it, maybe he could do something that would stop her from having to spend every other week with her mother.

"But, daddy, I want to be there when you get home," Olivia said, wearing a pout.

Daniel hated seeing his little girl like that. He loved her more than anything and never wanted to see the smile drop from her face. His Olivia, he'd go to the ends of the earth for her.

The people surrounding him indicated that it was time to go, but Daniel kept smiling as he looked at the phone. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay, Jelly Bean?"

"Okay," she said and passed the phone back to her grandfather without saying goodbye.

Daniel smile turned sad as he looked at his father. "Make sure she has snuffles before she goes," he said sadly before saying goodbye to his parents. They knew what to do by now, they'd been sending her to her mother’s house for the last five years.

“What’re we having for dinner tonight, Livvy?” Her grandma asked as they pulled into the driveway.

The scowl dropped from Oliva’s face and she started bouncing in her seat, chanting ‘turkey dinosaurs!’ over and over again.

Turkey dinosaurs it was.

***

“Milo, honey, can you feed the cat please!” Y/N shouted, pulling the phone away from her ear as she turned back to the stove.

Milo came running down the stairs, already in his dinosaur pyjamas and dinosaur slippers. He ran to the front door, where the cat bowl was, and used the tiny, novelty shovel to scoop the cat food into the bowl. It was a little too much, but Poppy (the cat) wouldn’t mind.

“Wash your hands for dinner!” She shouted and placed the phone back between her shoulder and her ear.

“Mum, I don’t need your money,” she said as she plated up the Italian dish she had made. Well, it was spaghetti with carbonara, with turkey dinosaurs on the side to get Milo to eat it.

She heard her mother sigh down the phone. “Well, if you won’t take our money, your father and I are going to visit,” she said and hung up, without saying so much as a goodbye.

Placing her phone down, Y/N put the plates on the table and waited for Milo to come running in. He jumped into his chair and picked up his knives and fork. “I made a new friend today, momma!” Called Milo as he put down his knife and fork and picked up the turkey tyrannosaurus. He bit the head off and roared with the food still in his mouth, leading his mother to scold him.

“Tell me about your new friend, Mi,” she said as she ate her own dinner (like Milo, Y/N had a turkey dinosaur on her plate. It was the triceratops, Milo’s least favourite).

So, Milo told his mother all about his new friend, Olivia Ricciardo. He boasted about how he shared his pencils and Miss Green didn’t even have to ask him. Olivia sat beside him as they coloured, telling him all about her dad who drove race cars.

“Yeah, momma! Her dad is a famous race car driver! How cool is that?”

“Very cool, Milo,” Y/N answered as she picked up his plate to clear up. Of course, she didn’t believe that Milo’s new friend’s father was a famous race car driver. That was the sort of things kids said to impress each other. Just six months before Milo had told some boys that his father was a famous football player.

Milo stayed sat at the kitchen table, kicking his feet. “I can’t wait for daycare,” he said to himself as he knocked his fist against the table in time to the music.

Y/N couldn’t stop herself from grinning as Milo continued talking about daycare. It hadn’t had an easy time making friends, but now he had one and she couldn’t be happier.

As soon as she was finished with the washing up, Y/N ruffled his hair with her soapy hands. “Bedtime, little man,” she said, and Milo jumped out of his chair and ran up the stairs.

He ran into his bedroom and dove under the covers. He grabbed a hold of Rexy, his tyrannosaurus teddy bear, and Spike, his Stegosaurus teddy bear, and held them close. He watched as his mum walked in and pulled a book from his shelf. “How do we feel about the magician’s nephew?” She asked as she pulled the little book from the shelf.

“Yay, Narnia!” Milo called as Y/N sat on the end of the bed and cracked open the book. Just a few months ago Milo had been complaining about picture books, since one of the boys in his class had started reading actual books. So, Y/N was working with him so that he could read ordinary books on his own.

“Momma,” Milo began, interrupting her as she read. “Can Olivia come round for a playdate?”

Y/N placed a dinosaur bookmark between the pages. “Only if Olivia’s mummy and daddy say it’s okay,” she said as she put the book back and switched on his dinosaur night light.

“Olivia doesn’t like her mummy,” Milo replied as she turned on his side, still holding Spike and Rexy.

Y/N walked over and kissed the top of his head as she tucked him in. “Well, I’ll just have to speak to her daddy then, won’t I,” she said and stood up straight. “Goodnight, Munchkin,” she said as Milo turned towards the wall, his eyes shut.

“Goodnight, momma.”

Y/N walked out of the room, leaving the door open just a little. As she left Poppy the cat ran in and jumped on his bed (a dinosaur blanket, of course), curling up by his feet.

With Milo now asleep, Y/N went back downstairs. She sat at the kitchen table, pulled out her laptop and, like she did every night, began writing.

Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader smut #daniel ricciardo x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #dr3 #dr3 imagine #dr3 x reader

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hoshigray · 6 months

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𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 | choso kamo

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Finding out your boyfriend's a vampire was far from the chill evening you planned with him. But you can't lie, imagining those fangs sinking down on and sucking on your skin....it's kinda hot.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: vampire bf! Choso x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern! au - oral (m! receiving) - handjob - fingering (f! receiving) - nipple play (licking, sucking, tweezing, fangs grazing) - piercings (nape and frenum) - biting (wrist, shoulder, breast, implied more afterwards) - Choso got a long schlong, rip - missionary position - overstimulation - clitoral play (swiping) - cervix fucking - the first time you and Choso have sex + you two being nervy/cute - pet names (angel, baby, princess) - Choso takes blood supplements + drinks pigs blood - Yuuji is his half-brother - mention of blood (duh) and saliva/spit - proofread but will check for more l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.4k (bro, wtf???)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: y'all watched that new ep, right? right. anywaysss, in celebration of choso [and yuuji]'s big fight being animated, i was thinking of vampy bf! choso for a few days and how cute/hot that would be! soooooo, enjoy~~ ☆ and tysm for 2.6k!!

“Sooo, you two gonna like fuck tonight?”

“Whatever happened to ‘How’s your day,’ ‘You doing okay,’ or ‘You still haven’t offed yourself after midterms,’ Nobara?”

“Yeah, my day is going fine, but answer the question.”

“I swear to Christ…” you sigh heavily as you walk down the sidewalk.

The month of October brings more dread to your being than anything else. As much as you want to be festive, order a pumpkin latte, and chill watching the leaves fall gracefully with the autumn times, college life does whatever it takes to prevent that. And what better way to do that than have you suffer with midterm exams.

You and your roommate, Nobara, have experienced the worst, especially this week. Having to study and pull all-nighters so much that you two can count with four fingers at max how many hours of sleep you get daily. Whatever gets the work done. However, it shouldn’t cost you your necessary slumber. Even your other best friends, Yuuji and Megumi, are victims of the tests. Hell, Yuuji found out he had an exam the day BEFORE and had to come in clutch by spending the entire day finishing the two-page study guide!

All four of you are depleted of fun; it’s non-existent as you try to navigate out of this academic hell…Despite that, though, there’s one thing you’re always looking forward to during the week: the weekend! Oh, yes, today is finally Friday. You’ve been anticipating this day throughout the week, finally done with your exams and ready to relax with your friends after so much schoolwork. But that’s not the only thing you’re looking forward to…

Because this weekend, you’ll finally be with your boyfriend, whom you haven’t seen since the start of midterms. Choso Kamo, Yuuji’s older half-brother and the man of your life, is the only person you’d love to see sweep you off your feet and take you in his loving arms, away from all the stress and discomfort from your college life. The two of you have been dating for almost a year, and he’s, without a doubt, the sweetest guy you ever got lucky with.

Since the start of this semester, it’s been hard for you two to meet at one place, let alone get on the phone. With you on campus and he outside with his job as a piercer, there have been times when you thought you’d never see him until winter break. Yet, it is now fall break, and Yuuji invited you and the gang to have a relaxing weekend at Choso’s place (with his permission). You accepted the invitation with a gleeful heart, practically bouncing and giggling at the thought of being in the same place as your partner again. And that’s where you’re heading now, walking down the sidewalk to his townhouse with a duffle bag full of your stuff, and you on the phone with Nobara to keep you company.

“All I’m saying is,” the brunette starts on the other side of the line. “If there’s ever a good time for you two to get it on, it would be this weekend.”

“I’m sorry, since when has my sex life been on your mind instead of studying for the exam you have in ten minutes?” You hear your roommate suck her teeth, and you grin with satisfaction. “Besides, he and I are waiting for the perfect time to do it, no rush. And seeing as you, Megumi, and Yuuji will be in the same place as us, I highly doubt we’d ever think of having sex.”

“Hmm, fair point —KNOCK KNOCK— WHO IS IT!!?” You almost remove the device from your ear from Nobara’s abrupt yelling. “Sorry, Y/n. Megumi is here and says we gotta head to the classroom right now.”

“That’s fine. I’m already at Choso’s place, anyway. See you guys later, and good luck with the exam.”

“‘Kay, see ya later.” She bids you farewell. “Also, if you two ever do it this weekend and you don’t tell me, as your best-est friend, I have legal rights to make sure all your cute underwear gets thrown out next time I take out the trash.”

“Good-fucking-bye, Nobara.” You scoff, your thumb already pressing the end call button and stuffing the phone in the pocket of your leggings.

In just the nick of time, you make it to Choso’s townhome and climb up the stairs to knock on the door. Within seconds, Yuuji opens the door and greets you with a hug.

“Y/n!” He’s always so eager and chipper when he sees you. “I was just about to text you; gotta run to the grocery store, then head to the pizza shop to place the order.”

You enter the foyer to remove your shoes while the salmon-haired other rushes to put his on. “Oh, how come?”

“The phones and websites seem to be down, so I gotta head there in person to place the order. But don’t worry, I’ll be right back before Megumi and Nobara.” He stands to open the door again before grabbing his car keys from the rack. “Choso’s up in his room right now, so you can say hi and chill with him while I’m gone.”

“All right,” You watch Yuuji run down to the sidewalk before he stops to shout something in your direction.

“Don’t do anything too crazy, ya lovebirds!” He sends you a cheeky grin, and you give him a playful glare with puffed cheeks.

“I won’t; go get the pizza!” He laughs at your response as he jogs down the street to his car, and you close the door when you see him drive off.

Alone with Choso…The thought of being alone with your boyfriend for a few hours has the butterflies in your stomach become active, fighting the urge to smile with warm cheeks. It’s been a hellish month thus far. Finally, after all this time, being in your boyfriend’s arms is enough to wash off all the stress you’ve pent up for the past couple of weeks.

With glee in your steps, you tip-toe up the stairs with wholesome thoughts of you and your boyfriend. I wonder if he’s been eating right these days. Same with getting sleep, he has a bad habit of sleeping at ungodly hours…Oh my God, wait, are we going to sleep together? If so, it'll be the first time we share a bed together. Does that mean—

You mentally slap yourself out of your delusion when you stop at his bedroom door. Oh, snap out of it, Y/n! That’s just Nobara getting into your head. Plus, it’s not like you two will be by yourselves for the entire night — the other three will be here. Hell, his own younger brother will be across the exact hallway! Don’t think such horny shit, for God’s sake…

You shake your head to abolish the impure thoughts, raising your fist to knock on your boyfriend’s door. “Chocho?" You greet with a nickname. "It’s me, Y/n. I just got here and—“

CRASH!!

The sound makes you jump, halting you from finishing that sentence. Rushed footsteps and another noise that something was bumped into follow along. “Ch-Choso? Everything all right?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m good,” you can tell even from outside the room his voice had an unsure tone; he was, in fact, not good. “Just wait, I gotta—Ow!!”

You know you shouldn’t have done what you’re about to do as it goes against basic etiquette; however, when you hear sudden cries of pain from your boyfriend, how in the world would you stay still!? With a chewed lip, you grab the door handle and bust it open to enter his room.

You know you shouldn’t have done that. Because what you see before you is way beyond your comprehension.

The carpeted floor had items all over the place. There are packets filled with what appear to be red liquids and tiny red pills contrasted with the white carpet. They must’ve been knocked over and made that noise. Suddenly, you notice a stain on the white mat in a bright red color. That was the thing that alerted your nerves, immediately searching for the figure standing behind the bed. It was your boyfriend, Choso Kamo.

But was it him? Because what on earth were you looking at!?? He still had the same face, light brown hair that was usually tied up now fell to his neck, his black “tattoo” on his face now red and leaking down to his chin. And his mouth was agape, your eyes noting that his canines were extended out more than usual with red fluid at the ends. Not to mention that the man was now shirtless! His bare chest and abdomen out for you, covered with smeared….Is…Is that blood?

Choso slowly moves his hands up in defense. “Y/n…Just stay calm for me, okay?”

The entire scene was too much for your brain to grasp, your breathing increasing to an unstable pattern, and your eyes looking at every jarring detail doesn’t help ease the thoughts going way too fast for you. The worried expression of your boyfriend has your body at a standstill, and your limbs quiver as if you’re about to give way. So, what are you left to do?

You faint.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

He stares at you, and you stare at him.

He averts his gaze shyly away from you, and you keep yours fixated on his.

Brown orbs teeter meekly to your figure sitting on his bed before reverting back to the other side, and yours refuse to leave his face, practically sinking holes into his forehead.

This has been going on for five minutes ever since your consciousness returned, and Choso cleaned up the mess in his room and himself — now, he wears a black tank top after cleaning the red stains off his body. After giving you an explanation as to what happened, you haven’t said a single word to him. You only stare at him while pondering questions of your own. And you can tell the lack of communication makes the poor man uncomfortable in the confines of his bedroom. So, for his sake (and your headache-inducing curiosity), you eventually uttered something.

“So,” you say the first word with a long pause, treading carefully on which questions to ask. “Those pills…are filled with blood?”

“Yes…” He admits with his gaze still not away from you.

“And you take them every day?”

“Twice a day…”

Okay…Next question, “And those small packets,” you point to the dresser where a pile of said red packets stack upon one another. “Also blood?” He nods slowly. “Human blood?”

He finally brings his eyesight to you but with a hurried shake to the head. “No, no! It’s pig’s blood.”

Is that worse or better?? Never mind— You then point to your set of canines. “And your teeth, I’ve never seen them that long...”

“They only get like that when I don’t drink blood for a while. So, when you knocked on my door, I was just about to open a packet. But then I heard your name and kinda panicked…”

“Oh my God…” Everything comes together and hits you all at once. From his pale skin contrasting yours, the unusual tattoo across his face now revealed as a blood mark, or all those times you caught him drinking his super red "beet juice." It all comes down to the only acceptable truth that feels foreign to leave your lips. “…..My boyfriend is a vampire.”

Choso cringes internally at the words you uttered. The truth has finally come, and he didn’t even mean for it to happen, at least not like this. Who in their right mind would want to reveal to their partner that they’re a blood-sucking monster? It’s the most dreadful talk of his life that Choso has done all his years avoiding. And now you, his sweet, perfect thing, have discovered his abnormal existence.

“That’s…” He cringes harder when you say more words. “So...” Anxiety pools his stomach, mind filled with uneasy guesses on what you’d think of him now. He could only assume the worst; it’s only natural. “...Cool!!”

Wait, what? That’s not what he expected. Way off, actually.

He feels the dent of the bed when you move closer to him, your face merely inches away from his as you examine every single feature of him. It takes the vampiric man aback, holding his breath while watching your face stare at him intensely with your beautiful eyes, beaming with excitement and wonder. And his vision slowly drifts to your lips, watching them move as you ask questions. And he keeps staring until, “—so…Choso!!” He snaps his orbs back to yours, his cheeks blossoming pink. “I’m asking you a question. So, since you’re a vampire, how come you’re not melting or sparkling when the sun touches you? Is that why you wear black all the time?”

“You mean that stuff from the books and movies?” He questions your logic, but it’s not your fault; he’s sure many others would’ve asked the same. “I don’t know about melting, but my skin gets dry if I stay out too long.”

You hum along to his answer, nodding as if you were in a lecture. “How come Yuuji isn’t a vampire, or at least half? Wait, does he know!?”

“No! No, he doesn’t. I became a vampire because my father was a vampire and turned me and my mother into one. I think I was around the age of twenty. After she died and my dad found Itadori’s mom, he didn’t change her into one. So, with that luck, I guess he isn’t fully a vampire. But I wouldn’t blow past it if he has some characteristics…”

“I see.” Again, you nod along. That might explain some things, like why he’s so fricken fast when he plays sports and that crazy-like strength he has… “So, how long have you been like this?”

“Almost a hundred and thirty.”

Woah. “And when have—I’m sorry, how long have you tasted human blood?”

Choso ponders on that question for a few seconds before answering. “I started when I became one. I try not to have it as I did back then; the last time I had it was around two years ago. But even then, I switched more into donated or pig’s blood for the past four decades.”

“Do you ever have cravings for human blood?” Was that too much to ask? It possibly was because Choso makes a face that conveys slight objection. Yet your mind genuinely wanted to know.

“I do, but I try not to act on them. Especially now that I have a human brother, and you…I guess it doesn’t feel right that I do so, ya know.”

His response replays in your mind, not because you were confused but because you understood where he was coming from. You’re sure it wasn’t easy for him to go around and sink his fangs into human flesh back then; modern times should make the task a lot easier with so many people on this earth. Although, you can imagine how hard it must have been for Choso to ignore an urge like that, specifically when it caters to his whole being. Alternatives such as pills and blood packets can only do so much.

“..…Have you ever thought of biting me?”

The question came out on its own as your curiosity got the best of you. Yet you don’t regret asking because it’s not impossible to think of ever happening.

Choso’s brown eyes look into yours sincerely, releasing a heavy sigh as if the truth was weighing him down. “…Yes.”

Your expression doesn’t change, remaining neutral. There’s no point in asking why because you can practically answer that yourself: he doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s very considerate, so no wonder he’d put your health and well-being above all else. So, why not do the same for him? “…Would you like to taste mine?”

His eyes widen at your proposal, surveying your face to see any twinges or crack soft a smile that entails a joke. There were none, your expression exhibiting nothing but honesty. “A-Are you sure??”

You nod with a smile. “Yup. I mean, it’s not every day someone gets to have a vampire taste their blood — let alone see a vampire, period. Besides,” you stretch out your arm, your wrist stationed in front of Choso. “If it were any other random vampire, I’d probably throw garlic their way.”

The man scoffs at your comment. “Something also you see in books and movies, Y/n.”

“Whatever,” the two of you laugh at your silliness. “But I’m serious, Chocho. I’m fine as long you’re the one doing it. So, go on.”

A moment of hesitation keeps him in his thoughts, the mental cogs of his brain deciphering what course of action he should take. But he does take your wrist with a large hand, bringing it towards his mouth. And before you know it, the vampiric man unsheathes his fangs out for display and sinks them into your flesh, tearing the skin as they pierce through.

The sharp pain was expected, but you still forced your eyes shut and took in a big inhale. Choso watches your reaction as his fangs take in a sample of your blood for him to taste. The familiar texture of the body fluid courses through him, and drips of it slide down to his tongue. You exhale through your mouth, pursed lips blowing out cool air. It felt as though two needles were simultaneously stabbing your wrist, your hand forming into a fist to situate yourself through the hurtful sensation.

And Choso just keeps watching you as he drinks your red fluid, taking in your graceful reaction. He knows it hurts, but you don’t say anything, pushing through it for the sake of him. He examines your steady breathing, eyes sewn shut, and plump limps agape for inhalation. You looked so good like this — tasted good as well, very sweet with a floral scent; it must have been your signature perfume. It intoxicates him, thinking of your body and fragrance on him and your sweet taste on his tastebuds. It ignites something inside him. Something that he hadn’t experienced in a long time…

“Choso?” You call out to him as his blinks signal that he heard you. “You done there? Don’t want you sucking my arm dry.” You jest to him.

He takes the hint and removes his teeth from your wrist, licking the two pierced holes of excess blood that seeps out. “My bad.”

You tease him some more. “Do I taste that good to you?” You didn’t expect him to give you a curt nod, a silent compliment from your boyfriend. “O–Oh…That’s good to know…” You say timidly, gaze averting downwards. Then, you notice something in the crotch of his pants. You gasp: a pinched tent. Choso follows your sight, finding out about his predicament to his horror. He opens his mouth to explain himself, but you beat him. “Can I take care of it?”

Again, Choso tries to say something, but no words dare to come out as you crawl up towards him. His brain short circuits at your movement, his back hitting the headboard of his bed. His blush creeps around to his ears, contrasting his pale skin and chocolate-colored hair. You smile at him; he’s so adorable and shy about this. “Mind I take the lead for a minute?” You ask for permission, even though the answer is quite clear when he peers at your lips. He nods, your face drawing inward and your soft lips landing on his.

One kiss. Two kisses and a moan. Three kisses pass, and it’s at this point that you two can’t get off each other. As his hand snakes to the back of your head to deepen the kiss, he takes your mewls with his lips, the insertion of his tongue making your toes curl.

Taking the lead as promised, you bring a hand down to the zipper of his ripped jeans, bringing the zipper and the clothing down to throw on the floor. Your fingers curl around the band of his black boxer briefs, pulling them down to reveal his lo— WHAT THE FUCK!!??

His erection springs out from his underwear, and what you’re met with is a fucking behemoth. For one, the thing was way longer than you anticipated — most definitely the longest you’ve had within reach. And because of its length, it looked so pretty to look at. The way his precum trickles down his glans to the underside is so magnificent to your eyes that you’re practically stuck looking at it. And…Is that a piercing right at his frenulum? Oh, wow. Vampire dick, huh.

“Heh, you like what you see, princess?” Suddenly, you feel so small from being called out with that little tease from your boyfriend. You give him a condescending expression, making him chuckle to himself. And who told him to call you that cute nickname!?… Keep going.

Back to the matter, you ogle at his dick again and mentally prep yourself by slowly moving your hand toward it. Your fingers curl around the base and unhurriedly stroke him to figure out a good pace to start. A moan from Choso entails that you know what you’re doing, so you dial up the speed and go further up, stopping your strokes from his piercing down to the base.

He becomes more vocal as your friction becomes more confident, spitting on your hand and tightening your grip to make it easier for his rough skin to slide across your palm. Sticking with a firm and consistent rhythm, you watch your hand go to work on his shaft, watching more of his precum leak and slide down to your fingers. It was so lewd yet so arousing; you feel the throbbing heat between your legs begins to form, swaying your ass to ease the pleasurable sensation while instructing a pornographic act.

“Ahhh, ahhnn, oh shit…” He stammers to give you a proper response, your hand feeling too good. “Oh fuck, your hand feels so good, angel, so goo—Nhhhh!!”

“Really?” You can’t deny the pride you feel for yourself, so you move down to situate between his legs. “That’s all that matters, then.” You bring your free hand to massage his testicles and cover more surface, and more of Choso’s whines and croaks fill the space, his hips bucking to ensure more friction and pleasure on his end.

With the rate this is going, more of his essence leaks out from his urethra, and the raunchy image playing right in front of you has your lips quiver. An intrusive thought roams around your brain while looking at his pink glans. You chew on your lips as you decide on what to do. And when you finally do, it’s now or never.

With a gulp, you bring the tip of his cock to your lips, and the man sharply gasps at the wet sensation of your tongue on his glans. The precum leaves a salty aftertaste on your tastebuds, proving that this is happening: you’re giving your vampiric boyfriend a blowjob right now. Deciding to take things to the next level, you intake more of his inches as much as you can. Not the whole thing because you know you’d probably choke, so you take your time inhaling his length at a comfortable pace and manner. And once you bob your head, the hisses and groans from Choso should give you an idea that he’s feeling elated.

“Haahh…Mmmph…Y/n, your mouth feels so good—Oh shit…” He brings a hand down to the top of your head, a sign you can guess that he wants you to keep going. And so you do, speeding up your motions. Your mouth sucks and teases the underside of his dick, your tongue curves and licks around the piercing of his frenulum, and he jerks when you slowly teasingly lick from the base to the tip. You bring your hand to the rest of the inches you couldn’t cover, your pretty fingers sliding up and down his dick while your free hand comes to his balls for you to massage. The sudden contact of your hands wasn’t expected, his body jolting to the sensations of your tongue and fingers around him, kneading his scrotum as you playfully lick on his cockhead. “—Khhh, ohhhh, fuck…Y/n, baby, I’m—Ahahhh!!”

From the sound of it, he was bound to release his load. So you prepare and bring the tip back into your warm mouth, urging the man to climax. With a few more pumps from your hands coinciding with the laps and sucks of your plump lips, he ruts his groin to your face as his essence spreads inside your oral cavity. And you take it like a champ, sucking every pump to your throat, not letting the tip go until he finished. So, once his body calms down, you release him, wiping off the trail of saliva from your mouth.

Yet it doesn’t stop there; of course, it doesn’t. Because Choso’s cock is very much still sprung and active from your blowjob, meaning it’s inevitable that you’re going to move on to the next phase. And judging by the sheer length of this thing, you have no idea how that shit is gonna fit inside of you. Damn, vampire dick sure is something…

“Y/n?” You snap back from your thoughts when Choso calls out to you, noticing you gawking at his size. “You don’t have to do the rest if you don’t want, baby. I can take care of it.”He’s so sweet looking out for you as he’s aware that you’re a little worried.

But you surprise him when you exit off the bed for a quick second, removing your leggings and underwear for the carpet to keep for you. The same thing goes for your matching bra. And as you crawl back to bed, his wide eyes never leave your lower figure, watching you lie on your back with your head on a pillow and your legs spread wide. “As long as you take the lead, I’ll be fine, Chocho.”

It’s his turn to gulp and ease his dry throat before getting on his knees and positioning himself between your legs, dark brown orbs intaking every detail of your cunt that’s exposed for him. You chew on your lip, “It’s embarrassing if you stare so hard at it, ya know…”

“S-Sorry,” He apologizes while getting back to the task. He grabs ahold of his length and aligns the tip to your wet entrance, and your breath hitches at the contact. “I’ll go real slow, okay?”You give a couple of honest nods for confirmation, and he watches your breathing. When he notes your inhales and exhales, he pushes into your folds. With every inhale you take, he nudges further into you. The pain gets bitter and bitter by the second, and your hands grip the sheets beneath you. “Relax for me, angel, relax.” He comes down to whisper those words to ear; swear to God, you could’ve moaned right there and then. However, you switch your focus to following his advice, reminding your body to stop resisting the unfamiliar limb making entry. The pain is still present, but you count your breaths to distract your mind until the tip finally makes it in, a sharp gasp sneaking past you and a hiss from Choso when you involuntarily grasp around him while he pushes more of him inside.

However, he doesn’t move right away, giving you as much time as you need to catch a steady pattern to breathe along with. Your head already feels too hot, and your chest feels too tight to breathe. You peer down to find that he is only halfway in, and there’s no amount of words to describe the disbelief you’re experiencing at this moment. “I feel…so full already…” You nearly choke on your words. You can practically feel his piercing scrape your insides.

“I know, princess,” he comforted you with a kiss on the forehead while lifting your shirt, your chest meeting his cold, slender fingers that massaged your mounds. All the while, he pushes his cock further into your chasm, and your breathing goes shaky as you try and take every inch of him. Then all of a sudden, your body jolts upward when you feel the tip of his cock hit your cervix; you can only guess now that everything’s entirely inside you. Oh yeah, vampire dick is most definitely something else. Tears start to water your eyes, and your hands come around Chos’s neck, the coldness of his nape piercing greeting your skin. “—Mmmm, fuckin’ Christ…I’m gonna go start moving now, Y/n.”

You appreciate the warning because, with the way his hips start to create a motion to and fro from your entrance, it’s surreal that his shaft is churning your inner wall with minimal effort. Shivers crawl up your spine every time the base meets your southern lips, grazes to your most tender spots result in you chewing on your bottom lip, and God, the occasional jab to your cervix is something you’ll have to get used to. He sucks on one nipple while the other hand tends to the other, the laps of his tongue on the bud of your breast feel so good, and you gasp when his fangs lightly graze it. So exhilaratingly dangerous.

“Choso—Ohhhh…” you coo, your head thrown back when he tweezes your nipple simultaneously with the jab to your cervix. The pace of his thrusts increases a tad, and your voice becomes more vocal than before, filling his bedroom with your breathy whimpers. “So big, you’re so big for me—Ohooo!”

“—Mmfhh!! Fuck, you feel so good for me, princess…Shiiiit—” The way your cunt wraps around him so tightly causes him to rut into you harder and faster, evoking spine-chilling whines from your puffy, bitten lips. Your disheveled figure squirms on the sheets, holding onto Choso for dear life as he churns your tummy insides. Your fragrance attacks his nose when he kisses your neck, nibbling the skin to listen to your cute gasps more. Then, the urge rises. He opens his mouth for his fangs to scrape your neck.

“Ahahhnn!! Ch–Chosooo!!”

Your voice halts his unconscious, realizing what he was about to do and quickly withdrawing his teeth from your neck. No, not now… He thinks to himself, moving his fangs to your shoulder instead. The bite elicits a sharp shriek from your unbeknownst self. Your nails dig into his shoulders, the pain motivating him to explore more of your body with your mouth.

You can feel his kisses trail down your collarbone and breast, sucking on your nipples once more before leaving a tiny bite. You clamp around his girth as a response, which jabs into your cervix repeatedly with precision. More kisses and licks later, and he leaves a bite mark by your collarbone, sucking on the spot to taste more of your sweet blood. Your mind goes dizzy with the constant of his lips and teeth, and the commotion down south has you wrap your legs around him, caging him in as your climax is soon to come.

“—Nnaahh! Ahaahhnn!! Oh, God, Ohmyfuckin’Go—Hhmmff!!” Choso leads a hand down to your clitoris, and you see stars in no time. “Chosooo!! Yer handsss, you’re gonna make me cummm!! Ooooh, shhahhh!!”

Choso listens to your pleas with attentive ears, his fingers swiping rampantly on your clit. Your choked sobs are so beautiful to hear. The way your walls grasp around his length entails you’re about to come on him any second now. “Go on, my angel. Ring me out—Hnnghh!! So fuckin’ tight…”

Erratic ruts to your sloppy cunt cause wet noises to fill your eardrums, and the heat in your face is unbearable while your head pounds harshly. With the swipes on your clit and him grinding his cock to your tender spot, it’s apparent that you two come concurrently. He fills your cunt with his anticipated load while your velvety walls contract around him euphorically, and exchanged pants fill the space between your sweaty bodies.

The two of you experience shocks of your own as your heaving bodies rest on each other, Choso nuzzling his face to your neck as his hand softly massages your breast. Your body calms down, gradually exiting your blissful haze. But it tenses again when you feel another sharp pain in your shoulder, and you snicker while pulling his ear to tease.

“Let you have a taste, now you’re already hooked, huh…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Choso uses a washcloth to dab on the bite marks around your body, gently pressing down on it and wiping off any blood that leaves your newly added markings. The warm cloth feels good on your cold skin — as if the stinging sensation subsides in seconds.

“You know,” You hum along as he takes care of your body. “I didn’t think you’d be that much of a biter.”

“Sorry,” he moves to your front, dabbing the teeth marks on your breasts and shoulders. You can see the hint of pink that flushes his cheeks and ears. “Got a little carried away…”

You giggle. “No need to apologize, Chocho.” The nickname has him blush harder. He’s so cute when he’s flustered. “Just goes to show that you were enjoying the moment.”

His hands suddenly stop moving, the washcloth now around your wrist. “…Did you?” Caramel eyes dare to peek at yours. “Did you enjoy it?”

You could tell that the question carried a deep-rooted meaning. Not only was this the first time you and Choso had sex, but it was also within the same day you found out he was a vampire. If you were in his shoes, you could guess he’d probably think you didn’t like the experience or found it heavily discomforting. Yet that wasn’t the case at all. So, you have to communicate that to him.

With a warm smile, you let him know, “Yes, I did. I had a great time.” Before you can say more, a random thought prompts you to ask a question. “Hey, I felt you were about to bite my neck, but you didn’t.”

“Hmm? Oh, umm, yeah, I did. The only way for someone to become a vampire is by biting the neck,” He confirms, his gaze drifting down to your wrist as he uses the wet cloth to dab on the mark. “But I don’t want you becoming one now. At least, not without you telling me.”

“Wait, you don't want me to be a vampire?”

“I mean, that’s up to you, honestly. As much as I love you and would love the idea of spending my life with you, that’s only my selfish wish at the end of the day. The choice should be yours to make, not mine.”

You remove your hand from his hold and place it on his cold cheek. The other hand comes up to cup the other, provoking your boyfriend to look directly at you.

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” You have never seen his face change into a flash of pink so quickly; it makes you giggle at him. “Chocho, I appreciate you telling me the truth about yourself. I’m sure it’s been hard on you to carry this burden of pretending to be something you’re not, especially with me. So, again, thank you…However, I can’t really see myself as a vampire, at least right now. My life seems to be at a good place right now, and I want to experience it first-hand, ya know. With you by my side.”

You know Choso is listening to you word-for-word; his brown eyes never leaving your face is evidence of such. So you continue: “So, until then, let me be human for a while longer. When the time is right, I’ll let you know. Sounds good?”

The brown-haired man gives you a smile before answering, resulting in yours broadening. “I’m cool with that.”

You nod. “Cool.”

“…”

“…You want more of my blood, huh.”

“…..I’m sorry,” you laugh at his awkwardness. “You just smell so good. And you taste sweet…”

“In that case,” you withdraw your hands from his cheek and extend an arm out for him. “Have one last taste.”

There’s hesitance when his hand grabs ahold of your wrist. But when he knows you’re complying and on board with this, Choso brings your wrist to his lips, his fangs pierce down on your skin, and he sucks your blood. The pain this time around wasn’t too excruciating. Maybe with all the bites you have on your body right now, you came around and got used to it.

And who knows? Perhaps you’ll grow to love the sensation soon enough.

“Yo! I’m back!” The two of you freeze. A familiar voice from the other side of the hallway brings you back to the present moment. You then remember that Yuuji promised to return from the store and pizza place. And seeing as though time has passed enough for him to be done, the warmth of your body shifts to a disturbing shiver when the bedroom door opens up. “I got the pizzas and left them on top of the oven—“

The salmon-haired other stopped mid-sentence when his eyesight landed in your direction. You can only imagine what’s going through his mind when he looks at you and Choso because that was the same experience you went through a few hours back.

Yuuji looks at the two of you on top of the bed. Clothes decorating the carpeted floor, both your bodies free and nude, your tits out for him to see crystal clear. One of your hands holds a washcloth that harbors red, bloody stains. The other hand stretched out towards Choso’s mouth, where the younger notices fangs withdrew from your wrist. The newly drawn blood from your new mark connects to the sharp teeth of his older brother.

Thirty seconds go by where no one says anything, just three pairs of eyes and figures falling victim to the discomfiting silence of this situation. Until Yuuji starts to uncomfortably laugh at the sight before him for a few seconds. And then suddenly, he stops, and his balance gives way for his body to meet with the floor beneath him.

He fainted.

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

3K notes · View notes

monzabee · 1 year

Text

girl crush – dr3

masterlist || part 2 ||

Summary: The one where both you and Daniel meet your celebrity crushes in the course of a weekend, and decide to give it a go.

Pairing: daniel ricciardo x actress!reader

Word Count: 4522

Warnings: fluff, shy daniel, shy reader, max being a menace (we love you max), awkwardness, 2023 australian gp, oscars (i love you Jamie Lee Curtis, you rock), slight age gap? (the reader is around the same age as Max)

Request: this is a long one besties, but you can read the request here! + “Hello! Can I please request nepo!reader who's an actress and maybe has an oscar or something? Maybe with Lewis or Daniel”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this title changed so many times i lost track, but at the end, i went with the song – mainly because harry styles. i don’t know what’s wrong with me but this was very hard to write because i had BIG plans for it, so i’m sorry it took a while for me to finish it. also, i listened to a lot of la la land for some reason, so here you go. i hope i did it justice, and this was definitely very fun to write and i had a great time writing it, so thank you, to the anons, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Growing up with parents who were obsessed with Formula One had finally taken its toll on you, you decide as you walk towards the Red Bull Hospitality. Your father’s sudden retirement from acting, combined with your mother’s stubborn personality is the reason why you suddenly find yourself at the 2023 Australian Grand Prix. You don’t really know why they didn’t wait for the one in Miami, or perhaps Las Vegas, since their primary residence is in the US, but you had no choice but to join them when they pulled out the ‘We’re getting old’ card. So there you are, after 15 hours of flying over the Pacific Ocean, in Melbourne and ready to enjoy the racing weekend. Or so you think – because you spend the entirety of Friday catching up on lost sleep while cursing every single time your parents decide to call you to let you know how much of a great time they’re having.

In the end, you get ready Saturday morning, to get breakfast with your parents before leaving for Albert Park. Just as you’re about to leave your room, your eyes fall on a familiar hat, adorned with a certain number, and you put it on your head without giving it a second thought. Your parents don’t comment on your choice of merchandise even if they find it odd, which is good, you think, because you don’t particularly want to hear your father tease you over your “teenage crush”. The whole paddock is buzzing by the time you get there, and you immediately feel guilty because you missed the practice sessions the previous day. You quickly lose your parents to the crowd around you, too busy looking at the action around you, when you hear your name being called from somewhere. You look around trying to find the source of the voice, when you find a familiar face which makes you smile.

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?” You ask, quickly pulling Samira for a hug, who in return points to the camera.

“Weekend job, babe.” She laughs. “I’ve interviewed your father just a couple of minutes ago, actually.”

“Oh no,” You laugh and shake your head. “Did he tell you about his petunias?” “He did, indeed.” Samira nods and hands you one of the microphones in her hand. “Are you up for a quick interview?” She asks you as she gives you an innocent smile.

You nod while letting out a chuckle. “Well, someone has to save your viewers from my father’s garden talk, so why not?”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Samira tells you, her words coming of a bit slurred because of the way she talks too fast. She then turns to the camera after making sure that your mic is working. “Welcome back to the second day of the Australian Grand Prix, I’m here with Y/N Y/LN, whose father we just spoke to; Y/N, is this a family day out, or what?”

“This is definitely a family day out, Samira.” You laugh, nodding to strengthen your point. “Not a very usual one, we usually prefer to stay a bit more local for the weekend outings, but you never know where we’ll be next, I guess.”

“By ‘local’, do you mean the Oscars, perhaps? I mean, can we talk about your win for a moment? How does it feel to be the receiver of the award for the Actress in a Supporting Role?”

You take a deep breath as you feel your smile widen, as you can’t even try to hide your happiness. “It feels amazing, let me tell you. It was an amazing opportunity and I can’t thank enough to the lovely director and everyone who made the movie possible.” Samira nods with a satisfied look on her face as you answer. “Congratulations once again for your win. I have to ask, big Red Bull fan?” She asks you in a teasing voice.

“What?” You asked, confused. Only to realise the hat sitting on your head when she points to it with a silent chuckle. You let out a laugh while instinctively touching the hat on your head. “Oh god, you could say so, I guess; yeah.”

“I mean, I have to comment on the obvious part here.” She points to the hat while shooting the camera a look. “Number 3? You do realise the changes in the grid, don’t you?”

You laugh at her teasing voice, shrugging and smiling with an innocent look. “What can I say, I like to avoid the reality and live in my delusions.” After a few more teasing from Samira, you explain with a laugh, “No jokes, though, I honestly hope Daniel Ricciardo returns to Red Bull somehow because I don’t know how I’ll cope without him for another season.”

“A big Danny Ric fan, then, I presume?” Samira asks, pointedly.

“Oh yeah, been for a while now.”

After you’re done with your interview and bid adieu to Samira, who thanks you a dozen times more, you find your parents at the Red Bull hospitality, speaking with none other than Christian Horner himself, accompanied by Max. It’s a slightly awkward transition when you join their conversation, but it passes quickly. It doesn’t take long for your parents to be involved with their own conversation with the team principle, and for you and Max to speak amongst yourselves. Although you ask him every single question that comes to your mind about racing, whether it makes sense or not, and he answers each of them without discouraging you.

He pulls a funny face when he realises your choice of merch, pointing to your hat with a mischievous smile on his face. “Interesting choice, I would have gone with Checo.”

You roll your eyes and huff, taking your hat in the process. “You’re just jealous because it’s not your number, Max.”

“You wanna try that again?” Max raises his eyebrows.

“So what if I’m wearing his number?” You ask, arms crossed over your chest. “He’s a very good driver.”

“Who is not driving this seaso– Ow! Stop it!” Max exclaims as you hit his arm repeatedly in an attempt to stop him talking. “I hope you’re just as charming when you meet him.”

You pull a face while asking, “What do you mean ‘when I meet him’?”

He gives you an unamused look. “You’re either a very good actress, or you are very bad at checking your social media.” His eyes widen when you match his look, which tells him everything he needs to know. “You know he’s around, right? He’s shooting promo stuff, I think.”

“What do you mean he’s around?” You shriek in an attempt to hide your hat, as if Daniel is actually around to see it.

“Yeah, wait, let me call him.” He takes out his phone and quickly dials him before you have the opportunity to tell him not to do that, but he quickly shoves his phone back into his pocket when he spots someone familiar over your shoulder and waves them over.

Your eyes widen as you hiss, “You’re the worst, you know that?”

He winks at you a playfully in return, “Don’t forget to invite me to your wedding.” Then, he shakes the hand of the driver, who finally makes his way to both of you, and pulls him into what you can only describe as a ‘bro hug’. “Hello, man.”

“Hello, mate.” Daniel greets him back. His eyes widen in recognition when he catches your eyes over Max’s shoulder, and he side-steps to shake your hand with excitement, which only makes you clutch the hat closer to your chest. “Hello, you’re Y/N Y/LN. Oh my god, I’m a big fan!”

“M-me too!” You manage to get out, and then quickly add, “A big fan of you, not myself. That would be very egotistical of me.” You inhale a sharp breath as you ignore the look Max gives you, and close your eyes for a moment before opening them again. “Please ignore that, I think the jet lag is finally catching up with my brain.”

“Sure, we’ll call it the jet lag.” Max mumbles, which earns him a hit with your elbow in his ribs. “Ow!”

“I’m this close to switching teams and supporting Mercedes instead.” You lift your hand to show the minimal space you’ve left between your thumb and pointer-finger.

“I think I should take over, here before you drive her away, Max.” He jokingly shakes his hand in a motion to make him go away, and then turns you with a warm smile as Max leaves the two of you to join some of the engineers nearby. “Now, should we get you a Red Bull?”

Talking to Daniel is very easy, you realise quickly. Once you (both) get over your shyness, the conversation just flows in a way you’re not used to. He, too, answers any questions you might have like Max did, but the look in his eyes are different when you show interest in something he’s particularly passionate about. He asks you about receiving your first Oscar, and you ask him about how his wine business is going – which ends up with him promising to send a few bottles over so that you can give it your stamp of approval; you both decide that your review is going be on the back of the bottles.

“But doesn’t it get into your eyes when you’re spraying it?” You ask him, trying to comprehend how the champagne they spray doesn’t go everywhere. “And doesn’t it burn? It has alcohol, and… bubbles.”

“You might be onto something here.” He mumbles in thought, thinking whether the champagne burned his eyes or not. “Occupational hazard?” He asks in an uncertain voice, hoping it satisfies your question as an answer.

“Oh, right.” You nod, taking another sip from the can he got you. “It’s crazy, you’ve won like what? 8 races? That’s crazy, you’re crazy.” The way you keep saying whatever comes to your mind makes Daniel smile as the energy you’re feeling taking over your body for the time being. “Wow, I’ve never felt like this, is this what energy drinks do to you?”

“Probably why you shouldn’t drink too much.” He agrees.

“Sorry.” You smile apologetically, suddenly very aware of the fact that you are, in fact, rattling nonsense in front of your biggest celebrity crush. “You must think I’m crazy, and I shouldn’t be holding you back. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

Daniel is panicking inside when you start to get up, his mind scrambling up words to find a way to make you stay – he feels like a kid who’s asking his parents to let him play for a little longer. It’s not that he is not a social person, he is, but the conversation the two of you share is one of the most meaningful ones to him, even though you’re not actually talking about anything that deep. But he realises there is no pretences with you, no expectations, nothing to hide. He enjoys the way you speak what’s on your mind, whether it might be complimentary or the opposite, but he enjoys how you present your opinion and why you have it. He knows he’s extremely starstruck at that very moment, god knows he’s met enough famous people to know what it feels like, but it’s the kind of starstruck that makes him want to be not shy about it. He wants to keep talking to you for as long as you can tolerate him, because in his mind, he might be the one who is butchering the whole conversation up just by shutting up and succumbing to his shyness. He’s hyperaware of the fact that he has held himself back over the past hour, just because he was thinking about the fact that your hair is looking very shiny under the Australian sun and it is his number on your hat. It’s not something the two of you talked about, yet, but when he realises that it is his number on it, there is this inexplicable pride surging over him.

So, with his entire courage, he says, “Stay.” He clears his throat to buy himself some time to think of something else to say. “I mean, I don’t have anything else I need to do, and it’s very nice to talk to you. So, you know, if you want to, we could maybe, I don’t know, continue to talk?”

“Oh.” You let out a breath, eyes wide with excitement (and a little bit of apprehension), but despite all the nervousness you’re feeling, you find yourself back in your seat, and mumbling. “Of course, it’s very nice to speak with you too.”

And so you find yourself immersed in another conversation with the Aussie seated across from you. He is open about the past year – which as a fan you’re dying to know what happened, but don’t want to question him because he is only human after all. But for some reason, it comes naturally to talk about his pseudo-retirement with you. He tells you about his plans for the year, and how he hopes to get back to a seat by the start of the next season. In return, you tell him about the time how you almost stopped acting, but the last project you gave a change brought you an Oscar. It’s a much deeper conversation than before, but somehow you find yourself talking without feeling nervous to do so – without any second thoughts.

“I, uh, I like your hat.” He smiles nervously, pointing to the discarded hat on your lap.

You laugh nervously as your fingers occupy themselves with the visor of the cap. “Thanks, it’s my favourite.”

“Yeah?” The question that leaves his mouth is so soft that you think you would miss it if your eyes weren’t so focused on him.

“Oh, yeah.” You assure him with a little shrug. “Much better than orange, let me tell you, I look hideous in orange.”

A large smile finds its way onto your lips when he lets out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. “I somehow find it impossible to believe.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, Daniel.” You tease, causing him to smirk back at you. He doesn’t answer you, but instead looks at you with a very particular look which confirms what you’ve just said. Your small stare-down is sadly broken apart by Max, who calls out Daniel’s name to let him know that Christian is looking for him.

There is a sad look in his eyes when he realises that he has to go for real this time, but you give him a sad smile as you let him know you’ll be watching the screens for him during the quali. As you feel the wind breezing around you, you instinctively wrap your arms around your middle to get rid of the shiver the colder air provides. A look of recognition passes through Daniel’s face as he asks, “Are you cold?”

“A little, but it’s oka–”

“I’ll be right back.” Daniel announces as he leaves you and Max, causing the latter to turn to you with his phone in his hand. Max lets out a deep sigh, mumbling something under his breath in a language you don’t recognise, most likely Dutch.

“What are you doing?” You ask him, head tilted to the side to try and see what he’s looking at on his phone. He turns it to you after a while, apparently finding what he was looking for. “What’s that?” You ask, pointing to the phone which displays a paused video of Daniel sitting in a chair.

“He’ll probably kill me once he realises I’ve made you watch this, but the way the two of you looking at each other like lovesick puppies is making me nauseous.” He points to the phone with his head. “Play it.”

You give him a sceptical look, but do as he says and press the little triangle in the middle of the screen. The interview starts to play, and Daniel is talking about racing and the ongoing season. You let the video play for a while before looking up at Max again, more confused. “What am I supposed to see?”

“For fuck’s sake.” Max groans, taking his phone out of your hand and fast-forwarding the video to find what he’s looking for. “Here.”

You press play on the video once again, but this time it starts with the interviewer asking Daniel about his celebrity crush. While he’s thinking about his answer in the video, you throw an unamused look at Max, who urges you to direct your attention back to the video. Just as you move your eyes back onto the screen, his answer echoes through the phone speakers which makes your eyes widen. “What?” You ask Max as you scramble to play back the section of the interview.

“So, any celebrity crushes we should be keeping our eyes out for?” The interviewer asks, out of frame.

There is a thoughtful look on his face as he thinks about his answer and once he decides, there is a smile breaking on his face. “I mean, probably Y/N Y/LN. I’ve watched everything she’s in, probably multiple times, she’s just so talented.”

You watch that particular part of the video back a couple of times before Max takes his phone out of your hands with a look asking if you’re okay. “When was this?”

“I don’t know,” He shrugs. “A couple of years back, but I don’t think his answer has changed over the years.”

You blink a couple of times, trying to digest the fact that your celebrity crush also named you as his celebrity crush. “Oh, wow.”

Daniel returns a few moments later with a hoodie in his hands. He smiles at you warmly as he hands it to you. “Here, that should help.”

“Oh, Daniel, you didn’t have to.” You breath out, taking the hoodie out of his hand and putting it on with his help when he gives you a look that says he won’t accept it back. After you fix the oversized hoodie on you, you turn to him with a smile as you also put on the hat on your head.

The smile he gives you in return when he sees you in his number and merch fills your stomach with butterflies, and Max must be feeling weird about being a part of the scene because he lets Daniel know that he’ll wait at the garage. As Max leaves, Daniel turns back at you with a sad smile on his face. “I really don’t wanna leave, but–”

“You have a job to do, Daniel.” You smile with an understanding, putting an encouraging hand on his forearm. “Although I would love to keep you to myself, I’m sure there are fans out in the world who would love to see you back as much as I do.”

He lets out a small groan. “Please tell me you’ll be here tomorrow as well.”

“Well, I came all this way to watch the race too, so I’ll probably be around.” You tease him.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks you in a hopeful voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You affirm.

After a final look, both of start walking in different directions. And just as you’re about to leave the hospitality, you hear him call out your name. When you turn to look at him over your shoulder you hear him yell, “My number looks good on you.”

In retrospect, you wanted to arrive earlier to find a certain driver, but you couldn’t sleep last night because you couldn’t stop thinking about the day’s events. So when you wake up later than your alarm Sunday morning, you rush to get ready to leave your hotel room. By the time you arrive at Albert Park, it’s almost noon. You’re not late to see the race, there is still couple of hours until the big event, but your eyes look around the chaotic hospitality to spot Daniel. You can see a few familiar faces, some engineers you met yesterday and the drivers talking to some crew members near the garage, but there is a small frown on your face as you keep looking for the Australian driver. You’re about to give up when, suddenly, you feel someone grabbing your arm – which makes you jump back with a shriek.

“You scared me!” You exclaim, looking at the stranger who, thankfully, lets go of your arm after your outburst. “Sorry, can I help you?”

“Sorry! I thought you were lost and looking for your boyfriend.” They respond, pointing towards the garages. “I saw him enter a few minutes ago.”

“I don’t have a–” You start the say, but the person is already starting to walk away to the opposite direction. “Boyfriend.” You sigh, deciding to take the advice and see if Daniel might be at the garage after all.

If you thought there was a chaos outside the garage, you’re greatly wrong, because the only word you can use to describe the Red Bull garage is chaotic. There are crew members everywhere, trying to get the cars ready for the upcoming race. So, you do your best to slip through them without disturbing their work. Some of the members you met yesterday greet you, which makes you smile as you greet them back. You catch a familiar set of eyes, which lose the boredom in them and widen with recognition once they meet yours and he starts walking towards you.

He's beaming by the time he reaches you, as he exclaims, “You’re here!”

“Hi!” You greet him and then pull him for a quick hug.

“I’m glad you made it, Y/N.” He smiles down at you, without letting you go, and then gestures around the garage. “Have you looked around?”

You nod, matching his smile as you look up at him, “A little bit when I came in, it’s crazy out there today?”

He lets out an affirmative voice. “It’s always like that during a race day. Where are you watching the race from?”

“The Paddock Club, I think?” You answer him with a small frown. “We watched the quali from there yesterday.”

He pulls away from you slowly, and begrudgingly, holding your hand and starts to pull you away from the entrance. “I have a better idea.” He walks you towards the front of the garage, stopping right in front of the barriers and asking a crew member for a headset.

There is a playful smile on his face when he turns to you with them in his hands, which makes your eyes widen with concern. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?”

He waves his hand, passing the headset to you as he assures, “Of course, it’s the best seat in the house. Plus, it’ll be easier for us to find each other.”

“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” You ask him as you do your best to narrow your eyes.

“Absolutely, yes.” He nods with excitement. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re kind of my celebrity crush.”

You giggle in response. “Oh, I know. Max made me watch a video.”

“He– what?”

“It was a lovely compliment.” You assure him, patting his arm with a sympathetic smile.

“I’m going to kill–” He begins to say, but one of the engineers call out his name, telling him that they need him before the race. He turns to you with a groan, jumping over the barriers instead of going through the door, which makes you chuckle, and points to you while walking backwards. “We have to talk about this.”

“We will.” You assure him. Just as you watch him walk by, you call out, “Daniel!”

“Yeah?” He calls back at you.

“You’re my celebrity crush, too.”

Instead of answering he winks at you over his shoulder, which makes you giggle. You’re sure that you’re also blushing, but decide not to think about it too much and focus on the race which is starting. You’re on the edge of your seat the entire time, from the start to the second restart to the end. The people around you are not much different, everybody holding their breaths every time one of the cars make a sharp turn. You let out an occasional gasp, or wince throughout the entire race, your hands covering your shocked expression. But, at the end, you’re happy to see that Max is P1 and Checo managed to finish the race in P5. Everyone around you seems to be sharing your opinions, since they are celebrating the good results when you take off your headset.

Daniel finds you eventually, after speaking with some of the engineers and pit crew, and there is a huge smile on his face as he asks, “So, how’d you like it?”

“Are you kidding me? It was insane!” You exclaim, using your hands to relay your point. “Eight cars, Daniel, eight cars! That’s crazy!”

“I get you’ve liked it?” He asks, his eyebrows raising.

You let out a scoff while shaking your head. “Of course I liked it!”

“I’m glad you liked it, Y/N.” He smiles, “So, I’m your celebrity crush, huh?”

“Oh please, you already knew it!” You roll your eyes at his smug expression. “I’m wearing your number, aren’t I?”

He shrugs, letting his hands occupy themselves with the end of the hoodie you’re wearing. “And it looks good on you.” He tilts his head to get a better look at your eyes as he asks, “You’re wearing it again today? Isn’t it some sort of fashion crime in Hollywood?”

“Well, I’ve never fit in much anyway.” You shrug, letting a smirk break at your lips. “It might just become my favourite item of clothing, just so you know.”

“Yeah? I’m happy to hear that.”

“You should be, I’m very particular about my hoodies.”

He smiles at your comment, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes for some reason. “When is your flight back?”

“Tuesday.” You answer him, suddenly very aware of the fact that you don’t have much time left in Melbourne at all. “But I can be convinced to stay for longer.”

His eyes widen with surprise, excitement taking over the sad look in record time. “You can? Really?” You nod your head, which makes him pull you closer to him with the hand still holding your hoodie. “Let me take you out on a date.” His eyes seem to beg.

You nod your head once again, tilting your head backwards to keep your gaze locked to his. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Yes? Are you sure? It’s the point of no return.” There is a playful tone to his voice.

You roll your eyes, taking off your cap and placing it onto his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, ‘honey badger’.” You tease. “Who knows? You might just convince me to say a while longer.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, too.” He echoes your words from earlier.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fluff

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xjustakay · 2 months

Text

✺ (2/16) ✺ @jegulus-microfic prompt: tear — 1,058 words (college/uni au; when your boyfriend tries to distract you from working on your schoolwork and you’re so strong about it)

At this point, Regulus is about ten seconds from bashing his head into the table. He’s been in the library study room for hours already, only so much time still left on the max amount that he’s allowed to use it for. Just a little while longer to get some of the piled up work he needs to get done, and then he can take a break.

And yet.

Groaning, he sinks enough in his chair to thump his forehead onto the tabletop. Whose grand fucking idea was it to get a masters degree? Why did he think that was a good plan? This thesis is going to be the death of him.

You could still drop out. There’s still time to do that. You’re smart, you’re pretty, you’ve finished enough school, you’ll figure it out. You can just—

The study room door opens, cutting his spiral short. Regulus lifts his head, automatically ready to snap at whoever’s come to interrupt him before his time in the room is up. Except when he sees that it’s James, his annoyed expression quickly melts away.

There’s a to-go coffee cup and a white paper bag in James’ hand, the other reaching out to push the door shut quietly behind him. He comes around the far end of the large table —too large for one person, really, but Regulus has a couple books, his laptop, and various notes scattered over it, taking up space. James still finds an empty spot beside his laptop to set the bag and cup down then bends to kiss the top of Regulus’ head.

Regulus tilts back to look up at him. “I thought you were at the gym.”

“Baby, I went to the gym at like eight-thirty. It’s eleven now,” James chuckles, sliding his hand back and forth between his shoulders. He nods his head toward what he’s brought when Regulus quirks a brow at him wordlessly. “Figured you didn’t have anything before coming here.”

“I had a coffee already,” Regulus replies.

“And did you eat?”

He drops his chin, eyeing the white paper bag with a barely hidden sheepish look.

“Uh huh, that’s what I thought.” James squeezes his shoulder then moves around where Regulus sits to plop into one of the chairs closest to him. “It’s one of those almond croissants you can never say no to, so.”

Regulus’ lips tick upward into a gentle smile, gaze flicking sideways. “Oh, you’re really going for it, are you?”

“Going for what?” James asks, feigning innocence.

With a knowing roll of his eyes, Regulus reaches for the bag, pulls out the croissant, and settles it on the outside. He tears a piece off and pauses before bringing it to his mouth, swiveling his chair to knock his knee into James’.

“I told you, I have to stay here for at least three hours. I have too much work to get done.” Regulus pops the bite of food in his mouth, chews and swallows before tilting his head. “You don’t get to try to butter me up and pull me away from it.”

James narrows his eyes at him a little, thumbs tapping over his shirt where he keeps his hands folded on his stomach. “Maybe I’m just being nice.”

“Mm, and why should I believe you?”

“Because I’m always nice.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

“Come on now, love, you know I’m only mean to you when you ask me to be.” James winks, his grin inching wider when Regulus blushes at the insinuation.

He swallows another bite of food with a shake of his head, washing it down with a sip of coffee —black with one sugar, just like James knows he prefers it. He sets the cup back down and proceeds to point at the door James came through.

“Get out.”

Like the flip of a switch, James goes from playful to downright pouty, huffing petulantly and slumping in his chair.

“Regulus, it’s the weekend,” He complains.

“It’s Friday. Still a week day,” Regulus points out.

“Close enough,” James grumbles. He sits up straight abruptly again, leaning forward to press his elbow into the table, chin propped in his palm. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Your dick isn’t going to write my thesis, I’m afraid.”

James snorts, looking terribly smug as his hazel eyes drop to Regulus’ mouth then dart back up again. “Could write your thesis on it, though, couldn’t you? In more ways than one.”

“Out,” Regulus emphasizes, blushing bright red up to his ears. “I can’t deal with you for at least another hour. Leave me alone.”

“About to shed a tear here, baby,” James jokes, bringing a hand to his chest in further dramatics.

“Then cry about it. Somewhere else, ideally,” Regulus says.

Laughing, James seems to concede to his dismissal because he pushes up from his chair. He leans one hand on the table and tucks the other beneath Regulus’ chin to tilt his head back.

Despite kicking his boyfriend out, Regulus sighs contently, eyes falling shut when James dips down and presses a lingering kiss to his lips. No matter his insistence to avoid distraction, kissing James is one lovely indulgence Regulus will not deprive himself of. James’ thumb brushes over his chin before he touches their foreheads together.

“An hour?” James checks.

“At least,” Regulus confirms.

“Okay, fine.” James kisses him one, two, three more quick times before separating. “You’ve got this, love. Don’t stress yourself out too much.”

Regulus hums, nodding his head, watching James head for the door. “Thank you for the breakfast.”

“Of course.” James pauses with his hand on the handle, glancing him over one more time, warm smile and fond gaze unfading. “Love you.”

He tries, he really does, to contain the smile that tugs at his lips, making his own affection unbearably obvious when he ultimately fails. He typically does now. Regulus Black, made soft after all. He can’t even be mad about it anymore, not when being with James feels as good as it does.

Breathing in deep through his nose, Regulus mentally steels himself against the swoop in his stomach and a resolve that could crumble fast if James stays for too much longer.

“Love you,” He says in return. And because he has to, obviously, he tacks on an additional, playful, “Now leave.”

#jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus microfic #dedicated to mil who said ‘i love your uni microfics’ and i said ‘okay i’ll write you another one’#bing bam boom here we are #they’re so sweet and silly and in love #and i love them dearly #kay’s microfics #kay’s writing

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romanoffsbish · 10 months

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In Your Corner

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request | WC: 3,885

It had been supposed to be another great year that had come to a close for you. Every year, without fail Tony would throw you a party, but this year he was preoccupied with his family. He hadn't even had the time to send you a text.

That hurt, but you new infants were a lot of work so you gave him and Pepper that pass, but as you entered the communal kitchen you found yourself disappointed again. You'd been used to waking up to the smell of a homemade breakfast made by your best friend, but this year Wanda was off to Cannes with Vis for an impromptu trip, she too had forgotten to text.

The remainder of the team had seemingly also forgotten, each one just hanging around the compound and your lover was off on a mission so you couldn't fault her for the lack of text.

——

So, there you sat, on your shared floor with a pint of whatever frostbitten ice cream was left in your freezer as you watched Friends reruns and cried into your couch cushions as Rachel and Ross fought over the terms of a "break".

The show continued on, laugh tracks sounding off, even when it wasn't really that funny but your focus had since shifted to your dry phone. When you realized no one would remember now as it'd already reached noon you settled into the loneliness and slipped off into a nap.

—

Natasha was stressed to the max on a quinjet, pacing back and forth as Clint flew them home. She'd been gone for two weeks now, and she told Fury that there was no way she'd miss your birthday. It was too important to her that the two of you at least have time to celebrate.

Your life was the most important thing to her, so of course the day of your birth was as well.

So he sent in some agents to replace them as the bulk of the work had been completed and all that was really left was the clean up. There was no reason to extend what had already been extended from a weekend away to two weeks.

When they landed she rushed off the jet and went straight to the common area. She was softly panting from the exertion, but her breathing slowed to nothing as she surveyed the room. Steve and Bucky sat on opposite ends of the couches reading, while Sam and Peter were on the ground, the former one cursing as they played a round of Mario Kart.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Clint's eyes widened as he walked in as Natasha growled. The men in the room looked to her confused, the youngest of them all was the first to speak. "We're having a chill day Mrs. Romanoff."

"Wrong answer," Clint tossed out before rushing out of the room to debrief with Hill as he promised Natasha he'd do for her sake.

"Now why would you be doing that Parker?"

"Natasha, we don't have the energy for your riddles, so speak your peace," Bruce boldly piped up from the corner he'd been sat in.

"Banner, I suggest you leave now," she gritted, her fists bunched up, and the scientist lost all of his bite when he remembered the Hulk wasn't going to be on his side. He soon left with his head down and metaphorical tail tucked.

Which was the best gift your wife could honestly offer: his disappearance. He'd been nothing but bitter since you two got together.

"What's wrong Nat?" Bucky asked, much softer and genuine. Of all people here he'd be granted a pass as he'd not been here in the years prior.

"I'm just wondering where the decorations are, and why my wife isn't here surrounded by the people who she celebrates joyously every year."

Expressions of guilt, and trepidation overtook the entirety of the limited team members faces.

"Friday, where's Y/N?" Natasha asked, only adding salt to the wounded men as she replied: "Asleep upstairs on your couch, it appears she had cried herself to sleep about a half hour ago. Shall I wake her for you Agent Romanoff?"

"No, please do let me know if she wakes up." Friday agreed, and she shifted her attention back to the men who'd all stood to their feet.

Natasha's heart had sank at the notion of you feeling the way you did, as if you were easily overlooked, and not valued, so she knew she needed to fix the mess everyone had made.

"Peter, swing to the bakery at once and return with a tray of those cupcakes." The young boy looked defeated, your wife didn’t hold this against him, on account that he was a kid, but she didn’t waver with her glare and that got him to scramble to activate his suit and leave.

“Wilson, Rogers, and Barnes, go decorate the garden, leave behind your generous gifts, then stay out of sight for the rest of the day."

The redhead then shot off texts to everyone else to scold them just in case they too forgot. Then she took off to the gym lockers so she could freshen up without having to enter your shared floor and risk waking you up just yet.

After she changed from her suit into a pair of shorts and a muscle tee she set off to collect you for a day of last minute, but proper plans. The guys had just finished their part, and left to Wilson's apartment so she could fix the day.

As she entered your shared space she was greeted by an obnoxious laugh track, your melted ice cream and your sleeping form.

Natasha took a minute to survey the scene, and after a moment of admiring you her heart effectively broke as she eventually saw the dampened fabric of your couch. If not for her desire to celebrate your birth she'd be stealthily bringing an end to all that made you this sad.

With a quiet, determined step she moved about your shared floor, cleaning up the mess you'd been accumulating ever since she left. Then she settled a kiss to your cheek as she shut off the TV before venturing off down the hallway to run you a warm tub full of water. After she set the place up with a sprinkling of gifts, and a whole lot of love she’d set off to collect you.

To her luck you'd just groggily sat up, she found it funny that the silence is what woke you up as you'd just been snoring through Friends only a half an hour prior. "Natty?"

"Good morning sleepy head," she teased as she moved out of the hallway and into your sight. There was a dullness to your gaze as you tiredly surveyed her, not subtle at all as you looked her over for wounds, then again to check her out.

Natasha smirked, and began to approach you, she settled down beside you and cupped your cheek. There was a glimmer of hope in your gaze, and she spoke fast, making sure not to crush it. "Happy Birthday moya lyubov'."

"You remembered?" You sobbed, a bit dramatic you'd realize later, because of course she did, but in the moment you felt relieved. "Oh detka, how could I ever forget such an important day, hm? It's my most treasured."

Her lips pressed to your cheeks, catching the tears that slipped through your lashes, then they traversed the expanse of your face until they finally landed on your own as she pulled your body into her lap in one swift motion.

"Why's my pretty girl up here alone on her most special of days, hm?" Natasha knew, but she wanted to try and get your perspective and see the best possible way to change it. "Because everybody forgot Natty," you hiccuped as you burrowed into her neck. "Except for Friday."

Natasha hummed, her body slowly rocked yours in an attempt to hopefully soothe you as her own blood boiled with pure contempt.

"My sources say there was a cosmic fluke on Wanda's behalf, because she adores you so."

Natasha prayed for her sake this was true, because though she'd lose in a fight with the unfair advantage of powers, she wouldn't refrain from smacking her around anyways.

"The rest were simply forgetful idiots, but they felt terrible and have started the apology train," she decided to be honest, forgoing her initial plan to lie to protect your feelings. The men didn't deserve such shielding, they instead deserved to stew in their guilt for eternity.

"I-I don't mean to be dramatic Natty," you sniffled, "But I never forget anyone, why would they forget me? I just want the same in return."

"I understand detka, it's fair to expect," she agreed with a soft tone, "I just want you to know I would never forget, I only didn't text because I was racing home to surprise you."

"I know you would never forget honey, some years it's you who has to remind me," you giggled, and it instantly brought a smile to your lovers face to see you already perking up.

"Well, in the spirit of such a monumental occasion I have ran a tub for you, and set out a new outfit for you to slip into for our plans."

Your head whipped back from its place on her shoulder, face instantly lighting up, "Plans?"

Natasha shook her head with a fond smile, her fingers then raised up to her lips to imitate a zipper and so you whined: "Natty please?"

"Detka, I want it to be exciting, so go get ready and meet me in the garden when you're done."

The two of you stood to your feet, reluctantly moving apart, but before you fully separated your wife pulled you in for a passionate kiss.

"Take your time, and relax your mind Y/N." She pecked your lips a final time, then left.

As you entered your room your heart swelled at the sight of the outfit she'd bought, you'd been eyeing the fit for awhile, and of course she had been watching you just the same. Nothing was ever going to get by your super spy of a wife.

Once you finished your soak, with a new set of body products, you slid out and into the new royal green cropped sweater vest, and skirt. Then after handling your skincare routine you skipped all the way to the garden where you found your wife stood there patiently waiting.

Natasha subtly gulped at the sight of you, and for a moment the both of you remained silent as you looked the other over. She had changed from her casual locker attire into a loose fit black button up polo, with a pair of grey slacks. It was a simple choice, but still deeply alluring as her arms managed to bulge out the stretchy fabric, and her pants were form fitting enough that you could admire her toned behind.

Once you reeled in your devious gaze you were reduced to a woman on the verge of another breakdown. There stood your wife with a bouquet of black roses, and honeysuckles. It had become her goal to pick you meaningful flowers, and the contrast in bright colors meant to symbolize eternal love, intermixed between the more dark, morbid version of the classic rose was for an that leads to a beginning.

In the moment your curiosity was peaked, but you settled on letting the day play out before you sought out clarity. Your wife was cunning, and never moved without a plan, and you were never one to doubt her so you'd easily wait.

Natasha's free hand hung in the air, beckoning you to approach her, and as you accepted she swiftly pulled you into her body. She lowered the bouquet, allowing you the chance to smell the unique combination before she set them in a vase on the center of the decorated table.

“You look gorgeous love.” Natasha blushed, and softly huffed, “That was my line detka.”

As you giggled mischievously into her chest she gave the nervous spider-teen who was lingering on the side of the compound a thumbs up from behind your back. Peter lowered the pink box, and white bags onto the table with his webs, then as previously instructed he vanished.

“He’s just a kid Natty,” you called your wife out as you tried to pull away from her, but she kept your bodies connected with a hand on your lower back, as her lips sought your warmth.

Once satisfied she let you go, eyes admiring the way that yours stayed shut an extra beat, you always took a moment to recover, even when it was just a peck on the lips. You swore you’d never get used to the feeling of hers against yours. It was electrifying, and no matter how brief there was never a lack of love to be found.

Once you shakily breathed out through your nose, and your eyes fluttered open you were met with your wife who was patiently waiting. Natasha pursed her lips, then doubled down. “That’s true Y/N, that’s why I still let him see you, but he also has a phone with a calendar.”

You knew not to push it, because in the end she wasn’t wrong. Instead you thanked the boy via text, and put your phone in dnd, no longer caring about the sudden influx of well wishes, as your greatest one to be was sat before you.

Natasha handed you a sandwich, and then after listening to you animatedly tell her stories of the guy’s stupidity, she reflected back and told you all about Clint’s on their mission. Then as if having the power to summon him, the man was beside you with a candle and a lighter.

“Happy Birthday Y/N/N,” he greeted with a grin and a stubbly kiss to your temple. “The kids made you this,” he passed you a paper with the whole Barton family on it, and right to the side of them was you in Nat’s arms with Liho on your shoulder. Then he passed you an envelope, “And Laura purchased you this.”

While Natasha pulled out a gorgeous cupcake decorated to look like a peony you tore it open.

“Oh my gosh, no way!” You shrieked, “We’re going with them to Disneyland Natty!” She met your enthusiasm with a nervous chuckle, then seamlessly blew passed her anxieties as she lit the solo candle and began to sing. Clint joined her in the celebratory tune, but fortunately for you your wife’s melodic voice carried the tune.

Clint slipped off a moment later, with a to go container of various flower inspired cupcakes, then Natasha guided you to her sports car. It never ceased to make your heart flutter when she naturally moved to buckle you in. There was never a time in your whole entire time knowing her that she didn’t do this. It was actually how you realized she liked you in the way you did her. Because once you actually saw how she unbuckled Tony’s for him in contrast.

“Where are we going?” Natasha shook her head and chuckled softly, “Stop asking baby girl, you know I’m a steel fortress with this stuff.”

You grumbled all the way, until you saw the arcade, with Yelena and Kate grinning outside. Natasha couldn’t contain her laughter as you raced from the car and into her sisters arms. The blonde spun you around, then after you were back on the ground Kate pulled you in.

“Come on Y/N,” Yelena shrieked, “We must play as many games as possible. The final winner gets the crown in Kate Bishop’s hand.

You raced off with a shout of: “Game on!”

“Thanks for coming so last minute, I know you just got home from an undercover mission,” Natasha genuinely said, and the archer turned to her with a tired smile. “It was the least we could do, plus, look at how happy they are.”

Natasha did look, her eyes hardly ever left you to begin with, but in moments like these, where you were in the middle of unbridled joy, she especially wanted to be a spectator. Seeing you and Yelena playing like little kids always made her heart soar, and her mind run with dreams.

Of a future similar to this moment, but with house parties and summer barbecues. It was all she wanted, and she reckoned it was time you two got started on the rest of your journey. So, after about an hour of free fun, where you beat Lena in the final game, reigning you champ she called out to you both to say it was time to go.

“You’re welcome for letting you win,” Yelena angrily said, making you giggle as you realized she most certainly did no such thing. Her eyes narrowed, but a grin soon overtook her face as you yanked her into a goodbye hug. “Thank you for coming out to celebrate my birthday.”

“I will never miss a chance to beat you at air hockey Y/N Romanoff.” Her arms tightened, and she softly whispered: “Happy Birthday.”

“Okay, let’s wife swap now.” Natasha’s tone was playful, but a spark of jealousy was easily detected. “Hold your panties Natalia. Y/N is all yours. Also Kate Bishop is my fiancé, not wife.”

“She’ll be your was with that attitude,” you teased as you shifted to say goodbye to the archer. Who, as was her job, coronated you the ‘Arcade Supreme’ just before slipping you a gift bag then taking off with her grumbling fiancé.

“We’ve got a few more stops detka.” Natasha escorted you back to the car, then the rest of the adventure unfolded as she took you to all of your favorite places. Including the cat cafe where she surprised you with an adoption.

You’d been begging for months to get Liho a girlfriend, but then you ended up getting a male orange tabby, with a missing eye. “He looks kinda like Fury, let’s take him to shield!”

“Detka, I want to live a long life with you,” she teased as you held the cat up. “Stop tempting your fate with the doppelgänger of our boss.”

“At least you agree with me,” you huffed, then set the cat back down before letting your wife take you out of the cafe with the promise of returning in the morning for the little fella.

“You think Liho will mind that his girlfriend is a boy?” You shrugged, smirking around the straw of your frappe. “Love is love Natty.”

It was encroaching evening now, so you’d figured that the night was coming to a close, but when your wife passed the exit for the compound you realized her plan was ongoing.

With the windows rolled down, and your hand interlocked with your wife’s as she drove you across city lined you began to realize the burden of your depressing start had dissipated. The tension in your body melted away, and in a show of direct appreciation you brought her knuckles up to your lips and kissed them.

“What was that for?” You were looking out the window at the vast greenery of New York, but you could hear her smirking and had to fight off the urge to roll your eyes. “Do I need a reason to show you, my dear wife, affection?”

Natasha hummed thoughtfully, “I suppose not, but if you were saying thanks, I’d also like the same gesture deposited upon my lips please.”

Just as much as you were left a total mess after each kiss, she was left with an insatiable need for more. If she had it her way you’d never part. Her lips would be against yours all day, and if not there, at least somewhere on you.

Before you could even consider her proposal the redhead had pulled over abruptly, the blur of greenery was now more clear to you, and a feeling of serenity washed over you at the view.

“Where are we love?”

Your wife was nervous, something she rarely ever felt, and never let anyone see. Today is going to change the trajectory of your life for good, and she just hopes you’re happy with it.

“Home.” You furrowed your brows as you whipped your head around to meet her gaze after processing the word she’d just blurted. Seeing her nervous smile upon doing so made you lose the frown of confusion. A much softer crease overtook your face as you matched her smile as best you could. “What do you mean?”

“Here.” Natasha unbuckled herself, then she hopped out and gently pulled you from the car. “I, well actually, Tony and I have been working together on this for awhile now.” You cut her off with a gasp of genuine surprise, “You and Stark have been working together and he gets to live to tell others about it?” Natasha rolled her eyes, but before she could clarify you gasped again, this time with a horrified look.

“Oh my gosh Natty, did you kill him?” Her face fell into one of pure mortification. “What? No!”

You cast her an unbelieving glance, but then you lost your edge, tone obviously teasing, “Maybe that’s why he didn’t text me today…”

Natasha glared at the notion, and vowed to trip the wires in his suit for such a slight. Then she remembered his hologram that was waiting for you with birthday wishes beyond the hedges.

“Detka, please focus,” she chided, then pulled on your hand until you were just beyond the greenery, and stood before a gorgeous home. The walls were painted a blue tinted grey, with black trimmings, and it was two stories tall.

“This is,” she began, but you cut her off with a squeal, “Our home? Are we finally…” Natasha cut you off next, “Yes, we only have one final mission detka. To settle down for good now.”

“I love you so much Natasha!” She gladly took you into her arms for a hug, then before you could protest she scooped you up like she did on your wedding day, and ran the both of you beyond the threshold of the home. Her lips slammed to yours in the heat of the moment, but the kiss was weak as neither of you could refrain from smiling like idiots. “I love you too Y/N, more than I ever dreamed possible.”

When the night came to a close a few hours later, you heard your phone ding just as your eyes had shut. You begrudgingly peeked an eye back open. "Happy Birthday Y/N/N, I had no service, but I promise you a stack of chocolate chip pancake's when I return on Monday. ❤️"

You smiled, grateful for Wanda's gesture, albeit late it was much better than never at all. All you ever wanted was to have a group of people to love you the same way you'd loved them.

With Natasha pressed into you from behind, an arm wrapped tightly around you as she snored softly you knew without a doubt that you were at the very least loved with reciprocity by her.

—

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x wife!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x you #gxg

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bri-sonat · 1 year

Text

NSFW Questions About Gwen's Big Five - Part One

Questions are taken from this. The original poster deactivated their account, so it's the reblog that is linked. All the questions are modified and some are removed (either because the question had already been answered or because it referred to hetero relations.)

NSFW Questions About Gwen's Big Five Masterlist

Happy Friday! Starting off the weekend in the best way possible with some smexy questions for the Big Five we all know and love. A beautiful joint effort between @daydream-cement and I. With the occasional assistance from dear @na-shoba. The last time me and Kaley did one of these, we went back and forth, however, this time, she has stubbornly told me to post all the parts since she posts the Bri and Mir fics. So I will be your NSFW question dealer this time. Enjoy!

When did they lose their virginity?

Brienne: Late twenties if she ends up finding a partner. Or never.

Larissa: 17

Lucifer: Virginity is a construct.

Phasma: 18. That’s the only time she remembers anyways. When she turned 18, she fucked every one of her fellow female troopers that saw her face or saw her remotely undressed, if they didn’t take the bait and refused sex, threatening them to silence always worked. It was a way to “keep them quiet,” and “ensure their silence.” Also, if they raked their eyes over her body in any way, shape, or form. All consensual, of course.

Miranda: 20

Do they prefer rough sex or soft sex?

Brienne: Nine times out of ten she prefers soft sex. She will rarely like rough sex, if ever, and will only do it once or twice for her partner on special occasions if they really like it. She undermines her own strength many times and ends up hurting them involuntarily. So she likes it soft when giving and receiving.

Larissa: Depends. Really likes rougher sex if she is bottoming.

Lucifer: Yes.

Phasma: Rough when giving (which is always). And whichever when receiving (which is never, unless she has a partner, then it’s once a year).

Miranda: Soft when giving. Depends when receiving.

Do they have any kinks/fetishes?

Brienne: Praise kink with light degradation.

Larissa: Loves relinquishing control. Praise kink with light degradation.

Lucifer: The Wing Thing™

Phasma: Degradation to the max! Heavy degradation, light praise, biting, edging, voyeurist & exhibitionist (in her quarters with her watching, or her having someone watch her, always willing partners. Power play, and such). BDSM (blindfolds, face slapping, flogging/whipping, gagging, handcuffs, physical restraints), anything that would give her extreme power and domination (discipline, forced orgasm, orgasm control, orgasm denial, having a sex slave (if she’s not in a relationship)), spit kink, sadism (adding this again to accentuate). Most of these are dialed down/removed if she has a romantic partner.

Miranda: Loves overstimulation and loads of foreplay. Praise kink.

Weirdest place they’ve had sex?

Brienne: Carriage in olden times. Car in modern times. However, because of her height, it gets uncomfortable quickly. And it only happened once because of an extreme sex emergency.

Larissa: School library in college. She and a friend were working on a school project and before she knew it, they were making out and they did ‘hand stuff’ in the educational theory section.

Lucifer: Hell’s gardens

Phasma: Control room.

Miranda: Supply closet at work after hours. A visiting detective seduced her and introduced her to the joys of lesbianism. She never slept with a man again after that.

Favorite sex position?

Brienne: Probably missionary. She really wants to see the face of the person she is pleasuring. (She’s lame like that /aff). Plus, missionary with the strap sometimes means bouncing boobies which we know Brienne loves.

Larissa: Bent over her desk or tied to her bed. For the most part, as long as she is being dominated, Larissa loves it.

Lucifer: Receiving/giving oral on their throne. They live the symbolism and power.

Phasma: Bending someone over something and pounding them from behind. Her helmet is off with the order ‘Don’t look behind you.’ Power play.

Miranda: Her partner between her legs with their back against her chest while she plays with their pussy

Do they like to be dominant or submissive?

Brienne: Sub.

Larissa: Sub.

Lucifer: Sub.

Phasma: Dom.

Miranda: Sub. (Will switch for her partner)

Sex on the bed, couch, or the floor?

Brienne: Bed. Sometimes the couch for over-the-clothes stuff, but no sex.

Larissa: Bed.

Lucifer: Bed.

Phasma: Doesn’t care.

Miranda: Couch. She is a fan of over-the-clothes grinding and groping and the couch is such a perfect place for that.

Have they ever had sex in a public place?

Brienne: It’s happened in the case of what she calls “sexual emergencies where it could not be postponed or held off.”

Larissa: Yes, when she was younger.

Lucifer: Yes, from time to time.

Phasma: Obviously. She is very careful about finding somewhere she is sure is rarely visited/can be locked/will be free. She has a reputation to uphold, after all.

Miranda: Yes, regardless of knowing about the ‘indecent exposure’ charges she could get.

Would they ever have sex in a public place?

Brienne: If she could avoid it, she would. She feels the most comfortable behind closed doors in a private place (her home, her partner’s home, or a hotel room). If public sex is to be accepted by her, it has to be somewhere where she can ensure privacy, like a door with a lock or a place that no one can look into.

Larissa: It’s not a preference as she ages.

Lucifer: If their partner would like, then of course.

Phasma: Of course.

Miranda: Duh. Yes.

Have they ever been caught masturbating?

Brienne: No. She learns about masturbating pretty late in her life (if ever) and only does it when she is sure no one is awake. She also trusts people to knock, and she’s good at staying quiet.

Larissa: Once during her time at Nevermore by her roommate. That night ended happily for both of them.

Lucifer: Not unless they want to be caught.

Phasma: No.

Miranda: No, but she wouldn’t be opposed to getting caught by her partner if it would lead to them joining her in bed.

#brienne of tarth #captain phasma #miranda hilmarson #larissa weems #lucifer morningstar the sandman #lucifer morningstar (the sandman)#gwendoline christie #gwen christie

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miss-ery-3 · 1 month

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ughhhh, i don't want my blog to turn into some kind of relationship-crybaby-blog, but i do have a lot to think about atm

i dont really have anyone to talk with about this. all my friends are in happy relationships and dont really seem to take any other stance than "you cannot break up" and that just really isnt helping me

buuuut, if you aren't interested in my personal (non-ed) issues, just scroll on<333 no hard feelings

so, for now, i'll just type this into space and hopefully get some kind of catharsis i guess

it's currently 1 am and i am in my childhood bedroom and i can't sleep. my head feels like it is fucking spinning. every thought in my head is "why do i feel like this? if i feel this bad should i just stay with him? but do i actually feel in love with him anymore? it's not fair to continue being with him, if i don't actually want to. would i miss him? would i regret it?" and then just in a big ol' loop

mixed with thoughts of my friend i talked to all of friday night. his face has popped up in my head constantly since i went home at 7 am from being with him all night. i feel fucking butterflies in my stomach, and get all giggly, and i want to say his name out loud for some strange reason - until i think about what these fucking butterflies mean and then i feel sick to my stomach and want to throw up. every butterfly i feel is like taking a step away from my bf, and i literally cannot control it

i feel like an absolutely horrible person, fuckk,brnfjkgnkmrf

'cause i also keep thinking about all the things my bf have done that hurt me (i guess, to make myself feel better?? but it makes me feel a whole lot fucking worse. both because i feel like a horrible person, and because he's made me fucking sad a lot of times)

like this summer, i got my bachelors degree (a fucking big thing for me - and he knew that), and he knew that i would have my last exam in, like, the end of june. i gave him the date as soon as i could (maybe two/three weeks ahead) and then like a week before i graduate, he remembers that he has plans with his 5 best friends to go drinking

and guess what

he chooses to go drinking with his friends. he celebrates me for like... 1 hour, 2 hours max. as soon as my friends arrived he was like "oops gotta go drinking with my friends that i can see all the time. no time to celebrate my girlfriend getting her bachelors degree, although she will never ever have a day like this again. no no, gotta go get shitfaced. and i am actually not going to apologize"

also at my last birthday, i celebrated it at my parents house for most of the day, and then went home in the evening (like after dinner) to go get drinks with my friends. we had planned that he would come home to my parents with me the day before, and then we could wake up together on my birthday and he could be with me and celebrate and stuff

3 days before my birthday, he says he doesn't want to go with me to my parents' house to celebrate my birthday, because he has to read for school (it was in a holiday as well, he didn't have school for days). the weekend before my birthday he chose to go drinking with his friends (i was ofc not invited) and couldnt get out of bed for days, but whenever my birthday rolled around he had to be an A fucking student. so he cancels and then we only see each other for the last, like, 4 hours of my birthday, with all of my friends and some family - and then he got annoyed with me for getting sad

he talks over me, he interrupts me and then never asks me what i was saying, he ignores me every time he picks up his phone, he always prioritizes friends, family, work and school over me, he's really good at making me feel small (not in the good way) and stupid. he corrects almost everything i say, also stuff that i dont say, but that he just want to "clear up". he drops plans w me so easily, to be with his friends and he almost never invites me. he insists on touching my belly although i've told him it makes me very uncomfortable, and then gets annoyed when i remove his hand - because 'he likes touching it, and i shouldnt feel bad about my belly'. he often ignores my text messages if he doesnt feel like they matter to him. when i ran my first 10K he ran 11K the next day to show off (he did apologize, but i still cant believe he actually did that shit). whenever ive met his friends and family, they are better at including me in the conversation than he is: he will leave me alone with people i barely know, to go do something else (and he knows that i have some social anxiety). he gets annoyed with me over things that he believes i do on purpose, but i dont (e.g. wake up later than him?? go pee before i make coffee for us?? when i forget socks when i sleep over, and ask to borrow some of his? same w phone charger and other stuff. and he usually ends up with saying "omg its just a joke" but i can feel that it isnt. otherwise he wouldve stopped doing it). sometimes he makes jokes at my expense or is just plain rude, and when i tell him to stop, he will tell me to grow up and accept a joke, and whenever i say he makes me uncomfortable/annoyed he says "i cant take that seriously" or "thats the fun part". he is horrible at picking up after himself, and will get annoyed with me if i do it for him (i cant stand mess, and he knows this.) he wont do the dishes for days on end in HIS OWN apartment, so whenever i come to visit, i usually end up doing them, cause i cant stand mess. and he ALWAYS comes out when theres like 1 spoon left and is like 'oh gosh nooo sweety, you shouldn't have done all that.. awww.. nooo, now i feel bad.. *hug, kiss* oh well' and then go back to laying on the couch).......

ofc he also has good sides, but now that i've mentioned all the crap i have a hard fucking time remembering it. but i know that he does. he gives good hugs, he can give great advice, he usually doesnt judge the stupid things i do. he knows my quirks and he likes cooking me food. he hates rubbing my back, and will get annoyed if i ask him, but he is good at it. he has nice eyes and a cute smile. he knows a lot about the things im interested in (but usually shows off his knowledge in a know-it-all kinda way). hes creative and has good music taste

ugh, i am so sorry for this long ass rant, but i just needed to get this off my chest... if anyone actually read all this, and has some advice or... anything... feel free to send a message or a reply or something idk

i feel horrible

#amy’s ⭐️ving adventure #ana trigger #tw ana diary #ed not ed sheeran #tw ed diet #thinspø #tw disordered eating #ed not sheeren #⭐️ve #⭐️ving #i will reach my ugw

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ver33stappen · 1 year

Text

Afar || M. verstappen

Summary: Max has been so busy with f1 it seems he’s forgotten about the girl at home waiting for him

Genre: angst

Warnings: max being a dickhead, no happy ending

Max X fem! Reader

It was nights like this, the nights I’d sit in the dark on the couch watching tv, waiting for max to come home. I’d sit in pity, god I didn’t even know where he was anymore.

Tonight was our Third anniversary, I feel so stupid for even trying. I looked around at the dinner I had made for us, the candles, the effort into making the house look nice.

Now I was here 2:26 am, no sign of max, no calls, no texts. I was sitting, Mascara running down my face, crying in the dress I had been saving my money to buy especially for tonight.

But it was all for nothing. Everything was for nothing. I was on my second glass of red wine when I heard the door open to see a tipsy max walk through the door.

“Y/n?” God I hated that, he stopped using pet names, he doesn’t even know me anymore.

“Max, I’ve been waiting for 6 fucking hours” I pointed a finger at the candle lit dinner

“Why? You never told me we had a date night? Don’t fucking blame this on me” he accused and I just laughed

“Really max? It’s our anniversary” I looked at his blank face, he couldn’t think of a reply

“Where were you max?” Tears were now welling up in the eyes as I gave him a stare

“I was out” he muttered, I rolled my eyes and gave a huff, I could see the guilt washing over on his face. He was about to answer but I’ve had enough.

“Max I can’t do this anymore, do you even love me anymore?” I questioned, all the rage coming up

“Of course I do! I love you I promise” he was trying to defend himself but someone who loves me wouldn’t stand me up, someone who loves me would care for me.

“No you don’t, you’re always at work max, I only ever get to see you on 2 days of the weeks and you spend those partying or something!” The tears were now streaming down

“You can’t tell me what to fucking to with my life y/n” he was angry

“You don’t Call Me ‘Baby’, or ‘Schatz’ anymore, also I’m not telling you what to do I just wish you’d acknowledge me” I whispered

“You’re so dramatic” he rolled his eyes and laughed at me

“You’re not the man I fell in love with” he looked pale, he had nothing to say

“I can’t do this, us, we aren’t meant to be together” I walked past him. He grabbed my arm.

“Y/n, baby, no, we can get through this, it’s just a small fight, I’m sorry I’m sorry”

“Just fucking leave me alone” I whispered, walking out the door to leave him drowning in his sorrows.

“Y/n please stop we can try again” he shouted as I hopped in the cab I ordered around 5 minutes before our fight.

“Goodbye max” the cab driver stayed silent, understanding what was happening.

🕊️ (time skip) 🕊️

“It’s okay y/n” I sat in the arms of my bestfriend Isabelle

“Was i the problem?” I questioned rhetorically to myself

“No y/n, he was a dickhead, you’re fine and amazing, now I have ice cream so do you wanna watch tv?” She passed me a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough and we ordered takeout.

Max POV

how could I let someone that I love so much just walk out the door. I let the love of my life go. How could I be so fucking stupid.

I was left in our shared home. Her perfume was still lurking around the place. The onyx shadows mimicking her as if she was still here but the house was silent, empty.

It’s like a piece of my heart was ripped out. The feeling inside me was hollow. Felt like I had nothing left. The one thing that helped me, cared for me, celebrated with me, got me through my downfalls.

I miss her already, i miss her laugh and her smile. I want her back. I want her back so so bad. I would give anything for just one last kiss. I regret it

I Moped down to the floor, vodka in hand. Tonight was something I didn’t want to ever remember.

🕊️ (time skip) 🕊️ (1 month later)

Y/N POV

It was race weekend, and as much as I hate to admit it, I need to see him. I want to see him, so every Friday Saturday and Sunday I spend watching him, my love.

I spend my hours watching him from afar.

#maxverstappen x reader #f1 #fluff #cute #f1 imagine #formula one #angst #no happy endings #max verstappen one shot

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steddie-fanfic-recs · 3 months

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I've got this burning desire to set you on fire

by strangersatellites

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Will Byers, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair, Dustin Henderson Additional Tags: characters are my OC's now, Therefore, They ARE out of character, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Modern AU, Teacher Steve Harrington, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Eddie owns a bar also, as a side hustle, Established Relationship, sex tags everybody cheer, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Barebacking, AS I SAID, the relationship is established, off-screen kink negotiation obviously, Choking, Eddie wants to be a mean Dom so bad, but he is so soft for Steve, Belly Bulge, Dom/sub, Daddy Kink, Subspace, its not that serious, lot of plot, little porn, but good porn, Oh My God, Steve is a groupie, how could i forget - Freeform, corroded coffin is low-key big, Top Eddie Munson, Bottom Steve Harrington Words: 13,217 Chapters: 2/2

Summary

“Alright gang, don’t forget to have reports on classical literature that has been turned into film submitted by the end of the day tomorrow! I will be grading them during my office hours on Friday! I have a hot date this weekend and I will not be missing it because you hooligans didn’t get your work done on time! Got it?” A chorus of wolf whistles and peals of laughter sound out over the zipping of book bags and students flooding the halls. His front-row class clown, Lucas, cheers, “Ow ow! Get some Mr. H! Who’s the lucky lady?” Steve props up against the front of his desk with his arms crossed over his chest. “My partner finally has a Saturday night off so we made plans.” Stopping on his way out of the room, resident boy genius Dustin spins on his heel. “Wait wait wait. You’re like, dating dating someone?!” He shrieks. The teacher huffs out a laugh, these kids are not very observant. “Uh, I’m engaged actually.” Or, the one where Steve thinks his students can guess who he is engaged to. Rockstar Eddie Munson was never on their radar.

#steddie #steddie fic rec #multi-chaptered #10-25k #au no upside down #au modern #teacher steve #rockstar eddie #established relationship

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2braincellslz · 1 year

Note

Eddie or Billy with a southern reader who's teaching them to line dance, yes just yes

Southern Dance

Ship: Eddie Munson x Gn!reader

Desc: eddie is stubborn but weak to y/n. So, when y/n wants to teach him how to dance, he cant say no.

Not proofread.

Y/n grew up in the south. The whole nine yards sort of speaks. A small farm with many different kinds of farm animals. Some form of party during the weekends at the big red barn down the street. Horse riding. Mama's home cooked meal. And dancing.

Boy from Y/n's family loves dancing. At the parties, they were always the best on the floor. Line dance, square dance, swing, two steps, and a little bit of waltz. Y/n knew it all.

Their life was perfect. Y/n wouldn't trade it for the world. So, you can imagine their displuser when Y/n´s parents sold the farm, all the animals too, and moved into a trailer park. A bloody trailer park.

They had a house and a farm and friends, and now they live in a trailer park.

It wasn't all bad though, some people in the park were quite nice. They were very welcoming folk. Y/n mourned not being able to go to those parties, but Y/n still would take their free time to do a little shimmy in their (very small) room.

y/n liked the school. They liked how it didn't take hours to get there. Y/n liked their new friends that were quick to take in the new kid. Y/n liked the silly game they roped them into. y/n liked their time with their nabor, Max, who was trying to teach Y/n how to skate. But, most of all, Y/n adored that lovely Dm, as they called him.

Eddie Munson. A heavy metal enthusiast. A very creative guy. A very sweet man.

After about a week in school, Y/n started hitching rides from Eddie. He would ramble on about the going ons in the rock world or DMing or school while Y/n listened carefully.

On Fridays, when Eddies and Y/n´s gardens were both at work, they would crash at Eddie's trailer. Watching movies, eating snacks, what not. Sometimes, they would just chill out and listen to music on Eddie's bed.

Tonight was one of those Friday nights. Y/n was laying on Eddie's bed and Eddie was sitting on the floor.

¨wanna pick the next song?¨ Eddie asked, looking up at Y/n.

¨I have my own cassette with me, if you don't mind me playing that?¨ Y/n sat up, reaching over for their book bag. They grabbed it and unzipped the front pocket, pulling out a closet full of country dance music.

¨its not country, right?¨ eddie asked. He watched as Y/n stepped over him and squated infront of the speaker.

¨bluegrass.¨ Y/n corrected him.

Y/n pulled out the rock caset and replaced it with their music. Dance music quickly replaced the heavy metal.

¨Its is country!¨ Eddie groaned, flopping on the floor. ¨turn it off! My ears! Its killing my ears!¨

Y/n rolled their eyes, getting up and going over to Eddie. They stood over him with their hands on their hips. ¨get up, im going to teach you how to dance.¨

y/n had to pull Eddie up on his feet. Eddie flopped on to Y/n, leaning in to them.

¨you cant make me! It would break the code!¨

¨what code?¨

¨the code of metal! Im not allowed to enjoy country!¨

¨get up! Humor me a bit!¨

Eddie whined but stood up straight.

¨ok, now. Stand with your feet together and follow what i do.¨

Y/n steped out to the right, then crossed their leg behind the right one, taking another step. Y/n looked over to Eddie, watching his copy.

Y/n took another step then stood with their feet back together. Eddie copyed.

The pair repeated the steps back to the left.

Then a step forward. Then another step forward. Then another step forward with their left foot.

Y/n showed eddie the next step and Eddie followed to the best of his ability. There was a bit of stumbling, ofcoures, but the laughter and joy that filled the room made up for Eddies awful dancing skills.

They ran through the whole dance one or two more times, slowly getting faster with each attempt.

¨now, at tempo. Do you think you are ready?” y/n asked.

“I was born ready!” y/n rolled their eyes, turning up the music.

Eddie and Y/n followed the steps one last time, with minimal fumbling.

“See! See i told you i was born ready!” Eddie smiled wide, ear to ear. He flopped on to his bed, pumping his firsts in to the air as a silent victory.

“What happened to the code? Not being able to enjoy southern music?” Y/n asked, sitting next to their friend.

“Code smode. The code dosnt matter!” eddie threw his arm over his eyes.

“You are terrible.” y/n layed down.

“You love me.”

“sadly.”

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toomanystoryideas · 2 months

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vent post ig

i just feel so fucking hopeless like all the time i wish i had friends to do things with but i have like 5 people max and that’s pushing it, two girls i see all the time during the week but they both go home every single weekend, one girl who’s fun to hang out with but is always busy with work and school, her roommate i don’t even know that well and have never hung out with one on one, and one guy who’s chill and really sweet but he’s got a girlfriend and way more of a social life than me so he’s also always busy with his friends and the only time i’ve done something with him outside of taking the train to/from classes was an evening mass since we’re both catholic. my roommate usually goes home every weekend so at least i can cry alone in peace or just eat every meal here while watching movies by myself but she’s here this weekend and i feel so awkward not leaving the room on a friday night except to go to dinner by myself while she’s having fun with her friends. at least i’m working 16 hours this weekend so i can be somewhere else for most of the next two days

on top of this i just checked and i have at least two visible cavities and i know it’s not my fault since i’m genetically susceptible to enamel weakness or whatever the fuck but it makes me feel like literally nothing i do matters since i’m so focused on making sure my teeth are clean because of my terrible dental history and i have a wisdom tooth growing in that i’m definitely going to need to get removed and i’ve never gone under anesthesia before and i’m scared i’m going to like out myself to my parents or something which would be so fucking unsafe for me. idk

#whatever #can’t even cry since i have to wake up at 5:30 tomorrow and it’s almost 11 #so i have to go to bed but i haven’t even done my daily Duolingo lesson since I’ve just been doing nothing feeling like shit for hours

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dynamoe · 1 year

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A break in the narrative of TOMORROW'S JUST ANOTHER DAY for a flashback to Burbank. 1989. (6101 words) read on AO3 (better for your eyes) → or keep reading here below the break ↓

BURBANK 1989

He waited for the craft service manager to leave to empty the coffee urn. She’d be gone ten minutes max so he had to work fast. He pushed a cooler to the edge of the table, stood lightly on the lid and surveyed the end-of-day remnants. He grabbed the bowl of Hershey's Miniatures and up-ended them into his backpack. Same for the bowl of trail mix. The hummus wouldn’t keep and he didn’t have a container for that; he’d have to eat the carrot sticks he already swiped from the green room plain. Everything else was too picked over.

He jumped off the cooler and opened it— only a couple cans of TAB and RC Cola left. He closed it in disgust. Craft service was tapped, he could give the green room another once-over but he already had snatched up the last third of the party sub, the crudité platter and a bowl of M&Ms.

He turned back in a rush, smashing directly into someone walking the other way. He bounced backward, dropping his backpack and all his raided provisions spilling onto the floor

“Whoa whoa whoa,” a familiar voice admonished, “Watch where you’re goin’, kid.”

“Mr. White! Sorry, I—” Billy collected his wits and then dove onto the pile of peanuts and M&Ms leaking out of his backpack.

The taping ended an hour ago, why are you still here?”

“I missed my bus back to the hotel so I’m just killing time, I guess,” Billy lied, stuffing as much food back in his bag before Mr. White noticed as he could. White didn’t seem very observant, focused fully on the craft service table.

“I gotta stay to record promo bumpers for all the affiliates on Fridays,” Mr. White muttered sourly and then sniffed loudly.

Billy looked confusedly at Mr. White, out of wardrobe and wearing pale-gray jeans and a polo shirt.

“Audio only,” White explained, looking back at the table, “Someone took all the Krackel bars! Nuts!”

Billy spotted a miniature Krackel he had dropped next to Mr. White’s foot. He retrieved it and held it up in White’s field of vision.

“Thanks, kid,” White snapped it up and stuffed it in his mouth, “Oh, you’re the champ this week.”

White never learned the Quizboys’ names. They turned over too quickly. Two tapings a day five days a week with only one champion carrying over from show to show, that’s 21 Teacher’s Pets he had to feign interest in meeting on-camera and then never making eye-contact with after.

“Yeah, Billy Whalen,” Billy introduced himself again. Not just “this week” but the last three weeks but he wasn’t going to correct the host.

That was the problem. He had come out to Hollywood to tape his episodes with only two changes of clothing and no long-term plan of how to take care of himself. The production paid for his flight and his hotel room but other than that he was left to his own devices. He got paid $10 a day as an appearance fee, but his winnings were locked up until he ended his streak. He couldn’t drive and Los Angeles wasn’t terribly accommodating on the public transportation front.

There was a long weekend starting tomorrow that meant no taping on Monday, meaning one fewer day of meals and one fewer 10-spot provided. He always collected the leftovers at the end of a shoot day to tide him over into the weekend but he felt unusually desperate and was pushing his luck.

“Hardly behavior befitting a Quizboys champion to be stealing craft service, huh?” Mr. White teased him.

Billy froze and felt like he was going to cry, “I don’t want to, but we’re not shooting for the long weekend so I needed to take something to eat tomorrow.”

“I was just kidding around, loosen up, kid,” White said, smacking Billy on the back.

“We get catered meals on set, but if we’re not shooting I just stay in my hotel room and watch TV. I figure food left at the end of the day is stuff no one else wants so I can take it. It’s not really stealing, if it’s gonna get thrown away, right?”

White was sort of half-listening until the content of what Billy was saying sunk in, “Wait, No food. Alone all day in a room for… how long have you been on the show?”

“Three weeks,” Billy reminded him. That means he had been on-camera ‘introduced’ to Mr. White thirty times.

“Where are your parents, kid?”

“I came by myself,” Billy said with a tone of finality indicating he didn’t want to get into it.

“All that time by yourself. That’s awful,” Mr. White was horrified.

“That’s showbiz,” Billy threw jazz hands.

“Fuck it. No,” Mr. White took a stand, “Leave this. Come with me. I’m getting you a decent hot meal.”

Billy hesitated, “This seems like a conflict of interest. A Quizboy fraternizing with the host might smack of favoritism.”

“Why? I don’t decide who wins. I didn't write the questions. I’m just the dancing monkey who reads the cue cards. Who cares?” White shrugged it off.

“What about taping the bumpers for the affiliates?”

White sniffed, “Eh, fuck ‘em. They can use ones from last week.”

Billy walked meekly behind Mr. White as he charged out of the studio, still doubting if this was ethical but also really, really hungry.

White walked him to a kitted-out Suzuki Samurai parked around the block from the studio, “I don’t even get my own parking space on the lot, if you can believe it. Fuckin’ cheap ass production.” He sniffed audibly.

Billy was awestruck, “Is this your car?”

“One of them,” White grinned as jumped into the driver’s side, “Hop in.” Billy eyed the three foot rise from ground to car warily.

He scooted over to the passenger side and extended his hand, “Sorry, I’m a bonehead. I’ll give you a hand."

Billy grabbed it with his foot on the edge of the running board, White heaved and pulled him into the truck.

White started the engine and peeled out of the parking space, jostling Billy out of his seat. He grabbed at the seat belt over his shoulder, trying not to be strangled by the awkward angle. Other cars honked, which White cheerily ignored, fiddling with the car radio to find a good station.

Billy studied his host away from the studio lights and he seemed weird. Uncanny even. He wore sunglasses while driving even though it was already early evening but, Billy rationalized, he was a celebrity and that was par for the course. Billy couldn’t quite figure out why he looked so… wrong.

“Mr. White, do you always keep your TV makeup on after the taping?” Billy asked as he and the other contestants were scrubbed clean by the make-up department as soon as the cameras turned off, the more histrionic losers having already cried off half of it before the credits finished rolling.

“I wanna get out of the studio faster so I take it off at home when I shower,” White shrugged, pulling into traffic recklessly with a wide turn.

Billy nodded. It made sense. It was really sticky, greasy thick stuff and it smelled oily. He couldn’t wait to get it off at the end of the shoot himself, but he didn’t have anywhere to be. If Mr. White was just waiting around to record audio bumpers today, he had time to take the make-up off, didn’t he?

“Learn to drive, fuckhead!” White yelled out of the window at a car that honked at him, even though he was running a red light.

The car was brand-new and lit-up impressively. The top of the line stereo pumped She Drives Me Crazy. White even sang along tunelessly. He sure seemed a lot younger than he did on set, but maybe it was the change of wardrobe or that his words weren’t written for him or that he no longer had the authority to give and take points from him.

"Your car's kinda dusty," Billy observed.

White glanced over at the powder on the dash and quickly wiped it away with a finger, "It's wind from the desert. It blows all kinds of dust and grit in the air. I must have left the window open. Forget it."

“It’s awfully nice of you to worry about me,” Billy said, “You probably have a lot of cool friends you could be hanging out with and, like, Hollywood parties to go to on the weekend.”

“Not really. Nah,” White dismissed, “Unless there’s promos to shoot or public appearances for the show at a mall or something I usually just stay home and watch TV, same as you.”

Billy assumed he was humoring him so he wouldn’t feel bad.

“But I can drive and have money and do adult stuff so it’s not exactly the same,” White qualified his answer, “I really wanted a hot dog right now so this worked out great for all parties.”

They approached a boxy building with bright pink awnings just off the intersection of LaBrea and Melrose.

“We’re not going to Spago?” Billy moaned sarcastically.

“No Wolfgang Puck on a first date,” White quipped back, pulling into the small parking lot behind the hot dog stand, “This place has been here forever. It’s a landmark! Orson Welles ate eighteen hot dogs in one sitting here! That's probably what's in those lost scenes of The Magnificent Ambersons, I bet. Just Orson scarfin' down wieners.”

“I thought it’d be in a building shaped like a big hot dog,” Billy said, trying not to sound disappointed.

“You’re thinking of Tail o’ the Pup,” White said, “You know Bruce Willis proposed to Demi Moore right here... Aaaand Aaron Spelling orders a hot dog from Pink’s every day that he’s working in his office up there.” White pointed towards the CBS studios up the block.

“Pink’s Hot Dogs appears in the opening credits of The Golden Child,” Billy said idly, dropping non-academic trivia after hours.

“Whaddya doin’ watching R-rated movies? That’s not a kid’s movie.” White taunted him, “Someone oughta put a parental lock on the cable box in your hotel room.”

“It’s only PG-13,” Billy defended himself, “Fifteen uses of ‘ass,’ two ‘asshole’s, eleven ‘shit’s, three ‘bastard’s, two ‘hell’s, and one ‘goddamn,’ but no f-words at all!”

“What, did you have a bingo card you were filling out?” White mocked him with a snort.

It was late but there were still a dozen people waiting in line at the stand. White mentioned that the line is twice as long during the day and it wouldn’t be more than a few minutes before they got to order as he sniffed and wiped his nose.

"Do you have allergies, Mr. White?"

"Something like that," White shrugged, "Get anything you want, kid. It's on me."

Billy studied the menu card in front of him, with the dozens of hot dog combinations with celebrity names, “I guess I just want a plain hot dog.”

“C’mon. Live a little, Billy!”

Billy sighed and announced, “I want a John Tesh dog with onion rings. And an Orange Crush!”

White nodded and ordered, “Gimme a Marlon Brando. A John Tesh. A side of Tom Berenger and an Orange Crush.”

White paid and waited, Billy walked around to the patio to claim a table. They settled in to a hot dog feast al fresco in the cool of evening.

A woman in a bikini roller skating down LaBrea with a boa constrictor around her neck passed

“Welcome to Los Angeles,” she said, skating a ring around their table, waving her snake as she moved on.

“She seems friendly,” Billy observed, a little confused.

“So,” White asked through a mouth full of chewed bun, “Why’s your head so big?”

“That’s pretty tactless, Mr. White,” Billy mumbled.

“What can I say,” White threw up his hands, “I’m a no-bullshit kinda guy!”

“I was born with hydrocephalus. It’s colloquially known as ‘water on the brain.’” Billy shook his head demonstratively, making a faint gurgling sound, “It’s better than it was. I had brain surgery after graduation so I don’t leak anymore.”

“Huh,” White said flatly, “That’s cool.”

“I know I look kinda weird.” Billy muttered apologetically, breaking eye contact.

“What, are you nuts? You look fantastic!” White reassured him, “Despite the haircut.”

Billy suddenly felt embarrassed. What was wrong with his hair? Half the teen idols on the cover of Tiger Beat had this haircut. He roughed it up with his hands. Maybe that would fix it?

“Actors hang out here during the day waiting to be ‘discovered,’” White mused while stuffing an onion ring in his mouth, “I never wanted to be an actor. This is my first TV job. I was on radio before this, but they needed someone fast when they shit-canned the old host for getting ‘handsy’ with the Quizboys.”

“Prof. Dolan? No way!”

“Yes way!” White argued back, “They paid plenty to keep it out of the Enquirer, too. Settled out of court with all the kids. A real shit-show.”

Billy was shaken. He had watched Prof. Dolan's reign as Quizmaster on the show since he was five. He always assumed he had just retired.

“He’d take the champ and the runner-up back to his dressing room and give ‘horsey rides.’” White air-quoted, slowing the words down as if this had some well-known double meaning. Billy didn’t know and didn’t want to know what he was implying. He caught Billy’s expression, “Don’t worry, you would have been fine. You weren’t his type— he liked blondes with sad eyes.”

“Are all grown-ups this fucked up?” Billy finally muttered.

“Language,” White tsked.

“Ugh, you sound like my mom.”

“Jeez. I’m not that old. I gotta talk to Wardrobe about the hokey suits they stuck me with. Like I’m frickin’ Richard Dawson!” Mr. White said indignantly, “I only graduated from State, like, two years ago. Less than that!”

“That’s what I’m using the prize money for! To pay for college!” Billy interjected excitedly, “We blew my college savings on medical stuff.”

“Keep winning like you have been and you’ll cover tuition, housing and textbooks and still have money left over for beer bongs.”

“My top choice school is MIT,” Billy announced and then added, “You sound like you might be from near there, Mr. White.”

“Me? Yeah, the general area, I guess,” White prevaricated. He thought he had done a pretty good job rounding out the corners on his regional dialect to Broadcast Standard English but the kid was perceptive.

“Have you been to MIT?” Billy asked, hopefully.

“They had a good radio station,” White searched his memories, “Back in high school me and my friend Donnie would steal his older brother’s car to drive down to see bands in Cambridge on the weekends. That’s as close as I got, though. Sorry.”

“I’m from the East Coast, too,” Billy offered, “This is the longest I’ve been away from home.”

White seemed distracted, rubbing his teeth and gums vigorously with a finger.

“Are you ok, Mr. White?” Billy asked with concern, “Do your gums hurt?”

“Huh?” White said, caught in a tick, “Oh yeah. Just giving them a ‘finger check.’ Gotta floss more. Gingivitis can creep up on you.”

“I think I just saw Dabney Coleman walk by,” Billy whispered excitedly while standing on his seat, craning his neck to see further.

“Hey kid, why are you still wearing that?” White asked, gesturing up and down to Billy’s blazer over a sweater and khaki pants with a knit tie that he was wearing during the taping.

“I don’t have any other clothes,” Billy confessed, “I didn’t think I’d still be doing this three weeks later so I didn’t pack anything else.”

“You’ve been wearing the same outfit every day for three weeks? That’s disgusting,” White turned up his nose.

“No, I have two outfits. I wear one while I wash the other one in my bathroom sink. I trade off every day,” Billy said.

“At least take the tie off when we’re not on the show so this doesn’t look like a job interview.”

Billy slid the knot down and unbuttoned his top button.

“Better,” Mr. White pointed with the butt of his hotdog, “That settles it. Tomorrow I’m taking you to buy you some decent street clothes.”

“You wanna experience Los Angeles at the cusp of a new decade at the end of the Millennium?” White pontificated, gesturing broadly as they rode down the escalator, “Then you go to the mall. The Beverly Center Mall if you can swing it.”

“There’s a scene in Less than Zero set at this exact mall,” Billy quizboyed.

“Jesus Christ, don’t tell me kids are reading Brett Easton Ellis novels now,” White peered over his sunglasses.

“And it’s in Beverly Hills Cop. Briefly,” Billy added.

“Ok, that one is definitely R-rated and—”

“Eddie Murphy says ‘fuck’ in it 60 times,” Billy said with a naughty smile.

They walked off the escalator, crowded by shoppers, as dozens of neon-lit store signs twinkled at them across the atrium.

Mr. White always looked really stylish and put-together, Billy thought. Even when they were just hanging out at the mall he had a deconstructed white linen suit over a pastel-colored t-shirt. Billy reached up to flick some specks of white from his otherwise impeccable jacket’s cuff

“Guess the powdered donut I had for breakfast got away from me,” White laughed.

“Or your dandruff shampoo isn’t working well enough,” Billy suggested snarkily, even though the placement of the white specs didn’t make sense for either of those explanations.

White was still wearing his sunglasses even inside the mall. They had only a slight warm amber fade to them so Billy assumed they were just his regular glasses he wore all the time but it made it hard to look him directly in the eye. He had a big expensive-looking watch– probably a Rolex or something, a small gold chain around his neck and a signet ring with a pink stone on his finger. The only off element was the silky bandana-type wrap he wore on his head— a kind of tight-fitting fabric cap that covered his hair completely.

“It’s a du-rag, Billy,” White had explained on the drive over, “I put a conditioning treatment on my hair this morning so I gotta keep it covered while the chemical processes. You call it vanity, but it’s all part of the job. Gotta be slick and shiny when the cameras roll next week, y’know.”

“It still looks super weird,” Billy felt comfortable enough with Mr. White to offer his opinion. He didn’t feel comfortable enough to bring up that it still looked like he was wearing his TV make up from yesterday or he had put on a brand new face of thick foundation even though they weren’t shooting that day.

White spotted the green sign of the United Colors of Benetton, steered Billy away from the Electronics Boutique and in the front door. Here was a brand that was trendy, but not too intimidating to a fashion novice with, presumably, pretty conservative tastes. Plus they had kid sizes.

“I applied to work here when I was in college. Never hired though,” White remembered bitterly, muttering under his breath, “United Colors, my ass. I guess ‘No Color’ isn’t included that union, huh.”

Billy wasn’t listening, just overwhelmed by the size of the store and all the bright colors. Pop music blared from the sound system. Blown up photos of cheerful diverse groups of young attractive people of all races wearing primary colored Euro-Preppy outfits on white backgrounds smiled at him from the walls. Inclusive, sure, but all of them had a head-size proportionate to their bodies.

Mr. White walked with him to the kids’ section.

"You're really going above and beyond, taking me shopping, Mr. White," Billy said, "Spending all your free time helping some kid you hardly know with his problems."

“It’s kinda fun. Makes me feel useful, too. Reminds me of when I was back living at home with all the cousins and nephews and neighborhood kids underfoot. Lookin’ after 'em. Keepin' em outta trouble. I never thought I’d miss that but being out here is kinda… I dunno... isolating?”

"What do you mean? Don't you have lots of friends from being on TV?"

"It definitely helps when booking restaurant reservations, but otherwise... nah. I don't even hang out with any of the people who work on the show, it's too awkward. You never know who's on the way out or who's trying to get you fired or take your job."

Billy looked up a shelf that stretched up to the ceiling with tiny square cubby holes for socks in every color of the rainbow.

“You end up alone a lot of the time. Alone and doing nothing. Alone in your car waiting in traffic. Waiting for a call. Waiting to go on set. Waiting for someone to tell you to do something. Makes me feel like my brain is atrophying," White sniffed noisily and wiped his nose, "I used to be wicked smart before this gig, y'know?"

Billy watched his expression shift from melancholy to resolved.

"But not today! Today belongs to us," White went over to a table of folded sweaters in neat piles,"Pick out whatever you want. Get a week’s worth of clothes. Extra socks and underwear. I’ll cover you and you can pay me back out of your winnings.”

Billy hesitated. “Don’t make fun of me but… I’ve never bought my own clothes before. My mom always picked them out and told me what to wear.”

“Explains a lot of your ‘look,’” White sniffed. Billy pouted. “What can I say, I’ve got a good eye for ‘Sunday-Best picked-out-by-mom’ after 250ish fuckin’ episodes now. I tell ya I got sweater vests dancin’ before my eyes when I go to sleep at night.”

Billy snickered. White smirked, “Buying clothes doesn’t have to be a drag. Get something you like, not what your mom likes.”

Billy looked around at the sweaters on tables, the hanging racks, the open shelves with stacks of folded shirts. He didn’t even know where to start.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“I dunno,” Billy thought, “I like green, I guess. Green or yellow.”

“Good choice. Nice contrast with the whole carrot-top you got goin’ on.” White encouraged him while pulling a striped green pullover from a shelf and handing it to him. “Try it on in a couple sizes. These koo-koo European numbers on the tag are meaningless to me.”

Billy made a selection from the rack and walked to the dressing room, White followed him and sat outside the door while he dressed.

“From now on, bring your laundry to the studio on shoot days. Wardrobe can wash them for you,” he shouted over the door, “Unless you, like, crap your pants or something. Don’t bring that to the studio.”

“I’m not going to... soil myself,” Billy sputtered with disgust from inside the room, “Jeez Louise!”

"You say that now but you never know,” White shook his finger, “In a close game those final question challenges get pretty stressful.”

Billy groaned.

“Hey. Did you pack a bathing suit?”

“No.”

White pulled a pair of swimming trunks from a rack behind him and tossed them to Billy, “Get those, we’re going to the beach later.”

Billy hesitated, “Do I have to get exactly this pair or can I pick out one that will fit?"

___

Billy had donned one of his fresh new styles to make his debut on the Santa Monica boardwalk. A butter yellow rugby shirt with mint-green stripes over avocado green elastic-ankled slacks. He mussed up his hair to look beach-ready. For the first time in his life, he thought he looked pretty cool (allowing for the whole "built like a bobble-head and shorter than parking meter" factor).

Mr. White donned a bolero hat in bleached straw with a wide brim and switched to a pair of much darker tinted sunglasses. He draped a cashmere scarf in muted mauve over his shoulders. Being out in sunlight was unavoidable in Los Angeles, so he had strategies to protect himself while still looking the peak of yuppie au courant.

“C’mere kid,” White grabbed Billy by the shoulder and squatted in front of him. “You ain’t got much of a nose but it’ll still hurt like hell if you get a sunburn on it.”

Taking a dab of sunblock (top of the line stuff, from France) from the tube, he patted it on Billy’s nose and on the top of his ears. He squirted a streak across the palm of Billy’s hand and indicated he should rub it into any other exposed skin.

A woman in a bikini with a boa constrictor draped around her neck like a scarf roller skated the opposite direction as they walked down the boardwalk.

“Welcome to Los Angeles!” she shouted behind her in a sing-song voice as she whipped past.

Billy did a double take “Wait, is that the same woman from—”

White cut him off, “Nah, there’s tons of them.”

“This is gonna sound weird, Mr. White, but I’ve never been to the beach before,” Billy said, his hand on his forehead shielding his eyes from the sun overhead as he looked out at the small waves lapping at the sand.

“Really? Never?”

Billy nodded, “I’ve even been to California before— four times! Never once made it to the beach.”

White snorted derisively, “No beach. Just came out to admire our world-famous freeway system.”

“My mother didn’t consider the beach culturally or educationally enriching. Didn’t think it was a good use of my time.”

“She sounds like a barrel of laughs,” White said snidely.

Billy counted on his fingers, “I came out twice for academic tournaments at CalTech. Once for a conference at Stanford and once to… UC Irvine, I think. It was some UC school anyway. I was only three. Some grad students let me play Asteroids on a terminal hooked to a DEC PDP-11.”

White smiled nostalgically, “Ah, the DEC minicomps. Gorgeous machines. State had one avocado green.”

“Wow, you know about computers, Mr. White?” Billy was blindsided by Mr. White’s hidden depths.

“My sophomore year, I secretly coded a program in ours that would randomly generate different ‘fuck off’s to any subsequent entered commands. Made the Freshman lab seminar think the machines had attained sentience,” White laughed.

“You can do computer programming, too,” Billy shouted, even more amazed. He already idolized Mr. White for being tall and handsome and cool, plus being on TV, but if he knew computer stuff, too, he was ascending to god status. Mr. White might even challenge Rusty Venture for his all-time personal #1 hero pedestal.

“Oh sure. I got my BS in Computer Science. I ain’t just a pretty face, y’know.” White winked, “Theoretical and practical. Hardware. Software. Circuit engineering. Hacking, Cracking and limited Phone Phreaking.”

“That’s so cool,” Billy bounced on his heels, having found a kindred spirit, “You’re a scientist.”

“Scientist-Non Practicing,” White clarified, “Other than working as an involuntary help desk every time a boss bought a computer, I haven’t actually used those skills since graduation. I’m probably really behind the technology. I only got through C, never mind the C++.”

“How did you end up being a TV star if you were a computer scientist?”

“‘Star’ is really pushing it, pal,” White dismissed. For a smart kid, Billy was investing the low-budget production with way too much pop-cultural influence. It wasn't even a network show, just pretaped and syndicated to a patchwork of markets. White would make more money managing a Gap Kids or a Banana Republic over the chicken scratch he was paid.

His condo and his car leases were covered by his… other job.

“You’re squinting pretty hard there,” White noticed.

“I don’t have any sunglasses and no hats will fit me.” Billy sighed. “I’ll be OK.”

White made a bee line for a kiosk on the side of the boardwalk, gesturing to Billy to follow him. A standard little pushcart, stocked with water wings and beach balls and extra tanning lotion. Of interest to them was the rack of cheap hats and sunglasses.

“This looks like it’ll fit,” White joked, putting a kid’s inflatable pool ring on Billy’s head like a swan-headed crown.

“It doesn’t give me any shade, does it?”

White pointed at a rack of cheap neon-colored plastic sunglasses. Billy scowled.

“They’re not going to fit.”

“Humor me.”

Billy sighed and demonstrated, slipping the glasses arms over his temples, warping the hinges long before the bridge met his nose. He forced the glasses on with a shove, the arms digging into the side of his head before snapping off from the pressure and they fell from his face.

“You break it, you bought it, chief,” barked the vendor.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” White mumbled, handing him a couple of crumpled dollars while still combing the racks. He found a plastic sun visor on an elastic strap. He snapped the elastic and showed it to Billy.

“How about that? Pretty clever.”

“No way. I’ll break that, too.” Billy predicted.

White thought and then grabbed a second one, paying the vendor for both. He pointed at a fluorescent green boogie board in Billy was examining. “And I’ll take that, too.”

White gave Billy money to get them both frozen yogurt and sat down with the two sun visors. With the Swiss army knife in his pocket he cut the elastic off the first visor and used it as a donor to extend the length of the second. He didn’t have the means to sew or staple it on so he tied it on in a flat-lying knot. He bent a paperclip into a little slider to keep the free end slightly adjustable. It wouldn’t last more than the day but it was good enough to let the kid wear a stupid sunhat the same as any other normal kid could.

He finished up his jerry-rigged creation just as Billy returned, handing a paper cup to White without ever detaching his tongue from his own chocolate-vanilla swirl cone.

“Taa-daa,” White announced, holding up his creation, “I MacGyvered it.”

He slipped it over Billy’s head— the transparent plastic visor looking woefully tiny on his forehead, but actually casting a little shade over his eyes— and tugged on the loose elastic to cinch it on. It fit.

“You actually did it,” Billy said, “I’m totally, totally impressed.”

“Now let’s get to that beach you’re here to see.”

Finding a stretch of empty sand, they left the boardwalk for the beach proper. White hung back towards a bench with a city-provided parasol covering, well in the shade. Billy kicked off his shoes, pulled off and tossed aside his flashy Benetton duds revealing the swim trunks and t-shirt underneath.

“Before you go in, lemme refresh your sunblock or you’ll look like a boiled lobster on camera.”

“How about you Mr. White?”

“I’m already all blocked up. I took care of myself before I left the house,” White waved him off. Billy noticed Mr. White seemed to have put more clothes on since the morning, he was wearing his driving gloves on and had a long-sleeved shirt buttoned right up to the edge of his throat, plus that scarf draped over top.

“You’re not going to go in the ocean?”

“There’s a provision in my show contract that I can’t get a tan. It fucks up the lighting in the studio if I’m a different color. So I have to stay in the shade.” White gestured at the beach umbrella overhead

Billy looked a little disappointed, “That’s not gonna be fun. We came all the way here.”

“I live here. I can go to the beach whenever I want. You run around and go in the water.”

Although disappointed, Billy accepted it. He grabbed his neon boogie board and ran toward the ocean whooping cheerfully, his oversized Fido-Dido t-shirt all but entirely covering him.

“Hey! Hey! Hold up!” White called out.

Billy trotted back obediently.

“Whaddya doin’ keeping your shirt on when you're in the water? It looks dorky. You scared someone’s gonna make fun of your fat boy tits or something?”

Billy screwed up his face, disgusted, “No! Of course not.”

He peeled off his Fido Dido shirt defiantly and threw it on the ground. He threw a stink-face and a crotch-thrust at White before dashing back towards the ocean giggling.

“Oh shit,” thought White. Not what he was expecting on the secondary sexual characteristic front. He was more than a few Tanner Stages off in his estimation of how old this kid was. Speedos didn’t leave much to the imagination and he definitely wasn’t wearing the right size. Billy seemed oblivious, hopping over the incoming waves on his stumpy surfboard and screaming in delight.

White sat on the bench, thinking. The whole day in retrospect suddenly felt kinda shady. How did he feel more like pedophile because the kid was older, that made no sense! He didn't have any kind of attraction to any fuckin' kids; he just felt bad and wanted to do something nice. He shook the thoughts from his head. Fuck what people read into it.

Billy took a break from swimming and padded up to him, his sea-salt-scented bangs clinging in fettuccine strips over his forehead. White handed him a rolled towel.

“How old are you really?”

Billy stared innocently, “Fifteen. Why?”

“All this frickin’ time I thought you were like seven or something.”

Billy frowned, “Because I’m short, right?”

“And the haircut, honestly.”

Billy scowled and shook his wet hair like a dog drying off.

“The show thinks you’re a little kid, too, y'know. You were competing against 2nd Graders! I'm gonna have to tell 'em.”

“I never claimed to be anything. Your casting people made an assumption at the audition that I chose not to correct," Billy said snottily, “I could have shown my ID if they asked.”

“Yeah, well, Casting is coked to the eyeballs. They’d book a ham sandwich to be a contestant.”

“'Coked to the eyeballs?'” Billy repeated, confused by the phrase.

“Never mind,” White shrugged, “I’ve gotta pick up a package in Sylmar, all the way down in the Valley so I should get on the road soon. Are you ready to go?”

Billy nodded, wrapping himself in a towel. They walked back to his car.

“Now that I know you’re actually a teenager I guess I should be taking you to more mature attractions, huh?”

“Can we go see boobie movies?” Billy asked, wide-eyed and vibrating with excitement.

“Not that mature,” White rolled his eyes, “Not if you’re calling a skin flick a ‘boobie movie.’”

—

His car idled in front of the hotel as Billy got out.

“Did you have fun today?”

Billy smiled and nodded.

“Whenever you feel sad sitting alone in that hotel room, call me up and I’ll take you out for ice cream or something. No one should be alone because they’re different.”

Billy was alone more for logistics than his personal uniqueness, but it was still a heartfelt gesture.

“Even if you just wanna talk about anything that’s bothering you,” He reached into his inside jacket pocket and handed Billy a business card, “Any stupid thing. I’ll listen. I get it. I’ve been there.”

Billy turned the business card over in his hand, confused. Tasteful thickness, eggshell texture. “But it’s blank?”

White grimaced, “It’s printed white on white. Tilt it in light.”

Billy held the card up at an angle and the name Mr. White followed by his phone and a pager number flickered in subtle glossy relief to the pale nimbus background. There also was a thin edge of powder grains stuck to the long edge for some reason. He flicked them off.

Billy squinted at small writing next to his name “Why does it say '250 per gram, delivery no pickup' at the bottom?” White ignored him, and clasped his hand.

“If you’re feelin’ alone in the world just... know I’m here for you, kid.”

“Same for you,” Billy said back, but then second guessed himself. “I mean, if that’s not too presumptuous, Mr. White. I don’t know anything about your life. I’m just a kid but… it schucks to be alone all the time.”

“Yeah,” White agreed and sniffed.

“Goodnight, Mr. White.” Billy looked up at him with his puppy-dog eyes, “Thank you. Really.”

to be continued...

I gave up on posting fiction here because lack of interest and tumblr's annoying text layout but this story has TWO Illustrations and is mostly self-contained so maybe some fan might stumble onto it and get some enjoyment out of it, y'know.

→ Chapter title is a 1991 Boys II Men hit. Did I think it came out in 1989 when I titled this chapter? A little bit.

→ On a TV or Movie set, “craft service” is an assortment of snacks that is set out for the cast and crew to nosh on during breaks in shooting. Because hot meals (provided by a different department “Catering”) come at weird times on shoot, craft service keeps people on set (not ducking out to buy food). There’s a hierarchy of who gets to eat when (eg, SAG actors before non-SAG). A green room is the waiting room for guests (different than a dressing room— one room shared by all the guests) appearing on a talk show or game show and there’s usually a catering tray there, too.

→ Most facts about swearing in Eddie Murphy movies, Pink’s Hot Dogs and the Beverly Center Mall are accurate. I made up some of the hot dog names; I don't know what was on their menu in 1989. The Beverly Center Mall was the setting of 1991’s Scenes from a Mall, which was shot a year after this chapter is set.

→ A lot of that business card crap is a lift from American Psycho. Another novel by Brett Easton Ellis, came out 1991/set in 1987, movie made in 2000.

→ If anything else that needs explaining, ask me

→ the rest of the story is on AO3, but this flashback is a one-off scene. (It mostly takes place in 1995-1996 when Billy is 22, living in the trailer in the desert.)

A Conjectural Technologies backstory story ('95-'96ish) → with illustrations ←

Billy has a crush on the mean grrrl who works the video store. Pete disapproves and suddenly finds himself ever-popular with a whole new fan base

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ellewritesandrants · 2 years

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This'll probably be turned into a proper fic at some point down the road but this'll do for now. For some reason, Harringrove stag parties popped into my head and now I have to write about it. Weirdly enough this also can also kind of work for the married in Vegas AU here.

Imagine a more modern AU with Harringrove who’s just about finished with all of the wedding prep and all they really have left is to let their maid of honors, Robin and Heather of course, to plan their stag nights. Billy had worked on all of the details of their wedding with Steve’s input on most of it since he’s paying for most of it.

Since Billy and Heather had a long-standing Friday Bar/Club Night every two weeks, Heather planned to go the completely opposite route with his stag night by spending the entire weekend at a Spa Resort so they can get pampered and gossip the entire time, making sure to include Billy’s sister and his pseudo-sister who were part of the wedding party.

Robin was excited to be the one partying with Steve for once since she and Steve were usually stuck babysitting their respective partners while they got wasted. Truth be told, Steve loved going to the club with Billy because Billy was a clingy drunk who loved being closer to Steve the more wasted he got.

Steve also got to spoil and take care of Billy the next day so it was really a win-win situation for them. Robin enjoyed when Heather got drunk because she loved to pull Robin onto the dance floor with her and it was fun to see her usually bitchy girlfriend let loose and have fun.

Steve and Billy had set aside the weekend before their weekend wedding for the stag night that their maids of honor had planned out. They’d had tearful goodbyes on Steve and Billy’s end because they’d be spending the week apart so that it would make the moment they saw each other at the altar all the better.

Billy had only just gotten into the car when Steve started texting him that he missed him already. Since Heather didn’t want anything distracting Billy, she took his phone and messaged Robin that she’d taken Billy’s phone so Steve wouldn’t panic when Billy wouldn’t be able to respond.

This immediately made Steve pout and be angry at Heather but ultimately, he’d understood why and he’d agreed to it as long it was only for the stag night and not for the entire week that he’d go without seeing his fiancé soon to be husband.

As Heather, Billy, Max and El got massages and facials and got nice and pampered for the next week’s celebration, Steve, Robin, Jonathan and Nancy were having a movie day before getting ready to go barhopping with a few of their closest friends.

Before long, it was nighttime and Max and El had gone to sleep while Heather and Billy had gone to lounge in the hot tub of the hotel they’d booked with a couple of glasses of champagne, Robin was stuck dealing with a Steve who constantly whined about missing his fiancé. Heather hadn’t been able to check her phone either since she hadn’t been able to keep it on her so as soon as she opened her phone, it was bombarded by messages from Robin begging Heather to save her.

Some of them were videos of Steve waxing poetry about Billy‘s abs or his butt. One of them was a clip of Nancy asking what he’d loved about Billy and Steve going a 10-minute tirade about Billy and how absolutely, positively wonderful he was and how lucky Steve was to be able to marry him. There was even a video of Steve running around the bar trying to find his fiancé.

Heather and Billy laughed at all of the videos and they decided to save Robin from how terribly wrong her planned night out was going by Facetiming her. She’d picked up immediately, looking all too weary and worn as she told Heather of the hours of talk about Billy she’d endured and all of the things she wished she hadn��t learned about Billy.

Robin, Nancy and Jonathan had been trying to get Steve to go home but he refused, drowning his sorrows in alcohol at not being able to find his partner and it was exactly the right time for Heather and Billy to call so that they could finally cut him off and get him home.

As soon as Steve saw Billy on the phone, he lit up and eagerly grabbed the phone, quickly telling Billy how much he missed him and loved him and how he couldn’t wait to marry him. Billy laughed at how adorable drunk Steve was but that quickly turned into a cough partnered with a flush when Steve started detailing all of the things he wanted to do to Billy in front of all of their friends.

Billy managed to coax Steve to go home with Robin, Jonathan and Nancy so that they could get closer to the wedding. Steve had managed to get Billy and Heather to promise to Facetime the next morning so Robin was finally able to drag Steve to the Uber they booked. Steve couldn’t help but remind Billy one last time of how much he loved him and couldn’t wait to marry him before he allowed Heather to end the call, making Billy feel warm and fuzzy inside.

They both couldn’t wait until they could finally be married so they could start the rest of their lives together. They’d been through a lot of ups and downs but they’d weathered through the trials and tribulations that life threw at them to get where they were and they couldn’t be any happier.

#billy hargrove #billy deserved better #billy hargrove deserved better #billy x steve #billy hargrove au #steve harrington #buckleway #robin buckley #heather x robin #heather holloway #billy and heather #steve and robin

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dontfeeltoohot · 2 years

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Eddie's Birthday Weekend: Friday, October 28th YTAU Warnings: Steve snarking at Eddie near the end, oops. This chapter is short, but I hope you enjoy! You can read my detailed info about this entire fic HERE.

X X X

The sound of an alarm going off makes Eddie groan. Dimly aware it’s not his but his boyfriends, the artist hunkers back down under his nest of blankets, listening as Steve’s weight disappears from the left side of the man’s bed. 5:00am is far too early for anyone, but the coffee shop owner takes it like a champ, something Eddie admires about him. He himself doesn’t mind mornings, but there’s always some defining line of absolutely not, and anything before 6:00am is where that line appears.

Listening to Steve shuffle around quietly, Eddie can picture the man, his ever-flawless hair a little sleep-ruffled, his eyes puffy from sleep. There’s a pause in movement and he knows the younger man is rubbing his face and stretching, probably trying to decide what shirt he wants to wear or if he has time to shower. A minute later he hears the shower turn on. Bingo. In the past month, he feels as though he’s become pretty well versed in Steve-isms, can picture perfectly in his mind the way his nose wrinkles up when he’s yawning, or the way his hand will find his hip when Max or Dustin say something that makes the man annoyed.

Outside of Steve’s room, he picks up on Robin moving around the apartment, a quiet string of cuss words falling out of her mouth as she bumps into something. Eddie’s grown to love waking up in their apartment, something he thought would take more time getting used to. He’d roomed with Chrissy for a while, and even Gareth at one point, and having roommates had been a test of the man’s patience. Now though, it’s comforting, hearing Robin and Steve go about their morning while he lays there half asleep.

Time passes, though Eddie’s not sure how much exactly. One second he’s imagining his boyfriend showering, the next there’s a kiss being pressed on his forehead. Eyes opening, he looks up and dark brown eyes meet light. Steve’s smiling at him, wearing a dark red polo and dark wash jeans.

“Hey sleepyhead. Just wanted to let you know Robs and I are heading out. I hope you have a good day at work, and don’t forget you have your lunch with your uncle.”

Shit. Steve’s right. Per tradition, he and Wayne have breakfast or lunch together every year to celebrate his birthday. This year, due to schedule conflicts, they’ve decided on a few days before his actual birthday, but Eddie is still excited all the same. It’s easier, too, since he’s living back in the same town as the other man, and not three hours away.

“Mm, thanks Stevie,” Eddie nods, rubbing his face and sitting up a little so he can catch his boyfriend’s lips in his own.

“Lemme know how it goes babe! I’ll see you tonight.”

Steve leaves and Eddie lets himself enjoy another two hours of sleep before his own alarm goes off, alerting him to start the day. Usually, he’ll start his day out with oatmeal and eggs, but because the long haired man is at his boyfriends, he starts it out with changing clothes, popping a Zyrtec from the bottle on Steve’s bathroom counter, and making his way back to his own place. Letting himself into his two bedroom apartment, Eddie pulls up an episode of Gourmet Makes on Youtube and lets it play as background noise while he works on the eggs, mind wandering to the idea of getting a pet.

Obviously, dogs are a no go- the only kind he’d be able to get is a hypoallergenic one and goldendoodles aren’t really his style. He’s been debating on a cat, but Steve’s allergic. Logically, he knows that shouldn’t be a deciding factor, especially when the man himself says not to worry about it (and they both know Steve kind of wants him to just for indulging purposes), but Eddie can’t help but worry. The other options are a rat, or maybe a hedgehog, which both seem pretty cool and relatively easy. Maybe once his birthday weekend is over and things have calmed down he and Steve can go look at the cats at the shelter, just to get an idea of it all.

Sitting down at his table with his food, the tattoo artist checks his levels on his pump, makes sure his bolus insulin is set correctly for meal time, then digs in, savoring the hot meal on such a chilly Autumn day. Sunlight is streaming into the apartment, making it look cozy, the balcony allowing for a perfect view of the yellow, red and orange trees in front of the apartment complex. When Eddie finishes; a bite of one and then the other repeated until gone just like every other day for twenty eight years, he rinses his dishes, sets them in the half full dishwasher, and makes his way to the shower.

11:00am rolls around and Eddie finds himself sitting in a booth by the window at the local diner on Main Street, waiting for his Uncle to arrive. Not a minute later, Wayne Munson walks in, a blue and green flannel on, underneath his well-worn work jacket, a Chicago Cubs hat perched on his head. The twenty eight year old stands and hugs his uncle tight, not having seen him for over a week, then sits back down, handing him the laminated menu despite both of them knowing what they’re getting.

“Missed you old man, anything new going on?”

“It’s been less than two weeks, Eddie, Christ. What do you want me to tell you, I’m engaged?”

Snorting, Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes his arm a little from across the table.

“I’m just curious about your life, sue me,” he shoots back with a smile.

The lunch goes like every other one before it- Wayne gets a burger, Eddie gets white bean chili, and they eat in comfortable silence. It reminds the younger man of every night in the trailer when his uncle wasn’t working, how they would share a meal on the couch while watching an old episode of The Andy Griffith Show or Everybody Loves Ray. When he was little, he’d beg for Home Improvement, always enjoying Tim’s antics.

After the check comes- “I’m payin’ Eds, it’s your damn birthday meal, quit it,” - Wayne pulls out a card from the pocket inside his jacket, and hands it to the guitarist. Opening the envelope, Eddie takes the card out and starts reading, slow and careful. The message on the card is generic, but when he opens up the front, there’s a long note written in slanted, cursive writing.

Eddie,

You know I’m not much of a sap, but getting to watch you grow up, getting to raise you, it’s been the biggest blessing of my life. I miss your mom every single day, and I hate that what happened, happened, but the outcome isn’t something I’d ever trade. You’re one year away from thirty now, and I can’t find the words to tell you how proud I am of you. I’ve seen you go through so much shit in the past twenty years, things no one should ever have to witness or go through, but I’ve been amazed every time at how you’ve been able to handle it. I’m sorry I wasn’t more involved before you came to me, and I’m sorry I didn’t step in with Trent. I’ll never forgive myself for either.

Anyway, I know you’ve been saying you need to get a new van. Lucinda ain’t running like she used to, and after seeing that death trap in action helping you move, I decided if I don’t do something about it, god knows when you will. When you’re available next, we’ll head down to Indy and find you something good, so long as it’s reliable.

Love you kid,

Wayne

Blinking rapidly, Eddie looks up at his Uncle and swallows, eyes glassy. Clearing his throat, he gives a wobbly smile, receiving one back, then laughs a little.

“Thanks Uncle Wayne…it..you don’t gotta do that, ya know?”

“Oh trust me, I know. But you’re just as stubborn as your mother, and if something were to happen to you in that van, I’d never forgive myself.”

Knowing there’s no point in arguing, Eddie simply nods, then straightens up a little.

“I should be free next Friday, if you are.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

They say their goodbyes, share another hug, and then Eddie’s off to work, smiling to himself as he walks across the street then down a few stores to where Green Light Tattoo Parlor is nestled. Making his way in, arms crossed over his leather jacket to hold in heat, he nods at Carson and Louie as they wave, deep in conversation about some band that’s touring. It makes Eddie think of his own band, and how on the 6th of November they have a gig up in Indianapolis. Steve and Robin are coming too, both excited to see him play, and it makes him nervous but excited, knowing they’ll be cheering him on.

The day is taken up by one client who’s getting the outlining of a full sleeve done. It takes seven hours, but the guy is able to sit through it well, and they only stop a few times, once for food, a couple of times for bathroom breaks and for Eddie to check his pump and blood glucose levels. By the time he’s finished, he’s got a solid amount done, a solid amount of money in his pocket, and he’s ready to go find his boyfriend and relax.

Hoping he can convince Steve and Robin to watch Dracula, the artist packs his bag up, then says goodnight to Annaleigh, the only other one in the shop, who’s finishing up piercing a girl's septum. Robin opens the door when he knocks, despite having a key. He feels weird just barging in when the two friends are home, and uses it mostly to lock up when he’s alone in the mornings.

“Just in time,” she smiles, which makes Eddie’s head cock to the side, reminiscent of a puppy.

“Huh?”

“Steve’s about to have a breakdown because he can’t find…something,” the freckle faced woman laughs, eyes rolling fondly. “You’ve not experienced a Steve freak out have you?”

“Not that I can reca-”

“It’s not here Robin! I told you! I knew it!”

Both of them wince from the intensity and bitchiness in Steve’s sudden words. Eddie is almost amused, especially when Robin grumbles about how Steve does this all the time. He’s always known his boyfriend can be a bit of a worrier, but the bitchiness is new, and frankly, Eddie’s living for it. Following Robin into Steve’s room, he sees drawers in his desk and dresser are opened, and there’s stuff all over the man’s bed.

“Uhhh…did a tornado go through here?”

Steve, whose back is to the door, whips around, eyes wide, almost manic. His brow furrows and he puts a hand on his hip.

“What’re you doing here?”

His boyfriend’s tone isn’t rude persay, but it’s definitely surprised, which confuses the tattoo artist.

“Uhh, you invited me over tonight right? Or…I mean, I can leave,” he jokes, turning dramatically to leave.

When Steve doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to stop him, Eddie freezes, then looks back. Robin looks like she wants to be anywhere but here. Frowning, the guitarist turns back around and stares at the younger man.

“Steve, seriously, I can go if you need me to.”

“It’s not…it’s not that I don’t want you here. But I’m trying to find something, and I’m already stressed, and…” he trails off.

Wait. Does Eddie stress him out? He said ‘already stressed’ as if his own presence causes his boyfriend stress regularly. Trying to ignore the sting, trying to tell himself Steve’s just worked up, the musician nods, biting his lip.

“It’s all good man, seriously. Everyone needs their space every once in a while. I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?” He walks closer to kiss Steve goodbye but at the last second merely presses a kiss to the younger man’s cheek. Leaving, he walks down the hall, Robin following.

“Edd-“

“It’s fine Robin, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” He offers a tight smile and closes the door gently behind him, blowing out a breath.

What the fuck?

Making his way home, Eddie tries to think through all logical explanations, attempting not to read too much into anything. Of course the honeymoon phase can’t last forever, but damn if it doesn’t suck when it ends. He knows Steve’s probably just had a rough day and this just happens to be the tipping point, but it still stings. He ends up asleep on his couch, watching Dracula alone. It’s not a great night, but it could be worse. Before he falls asleep, he manages to send a text message.

Night Stevie. Hope whatever was missing you found, and your night got better! ❤️ See you tomorrow.

+++

“What the hell Steve?!” Robin’s voice is loud when she steps back into the bedroom, and the man feels about two inches tall.

Steve knows he’s royally fucked up, knows he needs to apologize to Eddie and explain. Right now isn’t the time though, not with how frazzled he is. Work had been busy which already left him jittery, and then he’d wanted to wrap his boyfriend's present, only to forget its hiding spot. Way to go Harrington. Rubbing his face, he looks at Robin, who’s staring a hole into him, making him feel shittier by the second.

“I…I didn’t mean for it to happen like that.”

The woman scoffs and rolls her eyes in a way that reminds him of Nancy, when he was being unreasonable back years and years ago. Even now, Nancy Wheeler is a sore spot, even though they’ve talked everything through and are friends. It was his first true girlfriend, and he’d really loved her. The night of the Halloween party will always be one of his lowest as far as he’s concerned.

“Well, it did, and now Eddie’s upset, and I would be too. It’s just a present Steve. You need to fix this.” Robin’s tone leaves no room for arguing.

“I’m going to! Tonight I need to cool off, okay? It’ll all be fine. I just…really need to find the damn present, and sleep. Today has been a shit show.”

His face must convey how he feels, wired and upset, because Robin walks over and puts a hand on his shoulder. The touch is grounding, and thank god for his best friend, because without her he’d be spiraling even more right now.

“We’ll find the present, Dingus. Just take a few breaths and try to remember where your past self would put it, and why it would be there and not one of the first places you looked.”

Ten minutes later, Steve finds the box that’s holding the nice guitar pick necklace, ‘Type 1’ inscribed on the back, along with the new soft sweater and special edition Midsommar DVD he’d snagged a couple of weeks prior.

It hits him now, really settles in, that he’s been a dick to Eddie, and he hopes he can fix it.

#my fic #ytau #em #sh #st #rb

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