#Can you be haunted by a past version of yourself? Can you look back and who you used to be is nothing but a ghost?

[aro-screams-into-the-void]

Hmm thinking about wtnv 171 has me thinking about Cale and mirrors. Like could y'all imagine if everytime Cale saw his reflection it was KRS? Or if he saw everyone he lost back in Korea? Imagine if everyone else saw it all too.

He'd cover up that big mirror in his room and avoid looking at his reflection as much as possible and obvi there's misunderstandings like "oh the young master is shy" "Cale must see how much he looks like Jour" "he's so humble" "ah he's making a point that appearances don't matter!" etc etc but like nah bro's just haunted

[thinkinonsense]

I KNEW YOU IN ANOTHER LIFEᰔ

dp&w!logan howlett x past wife!reader

cw: mostly angst, some fluff, sorta mean logan, cussing.

wc: 800+

a/n: this is inspired by a one-shot I read a while back but I cannot remember who wrote it. If anyone knows, please please please let me know in the comments so I can give them credit <3 update!!! this is it!!

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

The last person you thought you would find here in the void is Logan. There has never been a Wolverine in here. You almost didn't believe it when you found out; needing to see him for yourself. And here he was. Right in front of you, the Logan you grieved all those years ago. The one who stole your heart.

Your Logan.

"And who the fuck are you?" He barked, pushing you away from him.

Those words broke your heart the second they left his lips.

Wade smacks Logan, informing him of your past together. Logan looked like he didn't believe Wade at first. You were way too beautiful for any version of him, Logan thought. What would someone like you want with a man like him?

Tears well up in your eyes as you leave, not wanting it to sting anymore. Laura follows you, glaring at the man who looked like her father. Logan didn't seem to care about the new information, instead reaching for another one of Gambit's bottles.

"I'm sorry, mom," Laura whispers, wrapping her arms around you.

"It's okay, sweetie. I'm not sure what I expected to happen." You sniffle. "He just looks so much like him."

"I know."

Suddenly, Laura stood up and stomped out the door to confront the man who upset her mother. She found Logan sitting outside alone by the fire.

"Look kid, I'm not the man you and your mother think I am." Logan sighs, not even bothering to turn around to check if it's Laura.

"You made her cry," Laura hissed, ignoring his previous comment. Logan looked up at the young girl almost apologetically before shaking his head. "Her Logan would have never made her cry."

Logan felt a sharpness in his stomach at the news. Deep down, he wondered if you two were together at some point. He doubted it though because you looked out of his league. If a past version of him managed to marry you then maybe he did some good during his time.

"If you two haven't noticed, I'm the worst Logan apparently."

"You don't have to be."

ᰔ

It's late when you finally stumble out of bed, not able to sleep. Hours of tossing and turning, trying to get Logan out of your mind. This felt like a cruel joke on your poor heart. You know it's unfair to have him pretend to be your Logan but you desperately wanted it to be him.

All of your memories together haunt your mind like a graveyard. Sweet Sundays spent wrapped in sheets. How he kissed your face every morning, had you wear his dog tags, and ride on the back of his motorcycle. You would give anything to get just one of those moments back.

"What are you doin' awake?"

The voice behind you caused you to jump slightly. A hand coming to rest on your back. You turn around, face-to-face with Logan.

"Can't sleep." You shrugged, opening the freezer to pull out a container of strawberry ice cream.

"That shit won't help you sleep." He grunts, sitting at the table. You ignore his grumpiness and continue scooping the ice cream into a bowl.

"Can we talk?" Logan didn't look you in the eyes as he spoke. Too ashamed of his actions earlier.

"I suppose so." You shrugged, pulling the spoon from between your lips.

"Were we really married?"

You answer by pulling the chain around your neck for him to see. A small diamond ring dangled next to the dog tags he gave you. The moment he saw it, he felt like the biggest asshole who ever lived.

"How many years?" The words stung in his throat.

"Five."

"What was our life like?"

"Perfect." You smile softly down at your bowl. "At least it was to me."

"You did a good job with raising her." He muttered, referring to Laura.

"You would have to."

He's silent for a second, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of being a husband and a father. He wished he knew what it was like to be cared for as much as you cared for your Logan.

"You know, you have the same look in your eyes," Your voice was so quiet, stepping closer to him until you were in front of him.

Logan could see the desperation on your face as you stared at his lips. It would be wrong for him to toy with your widowed heart, but he wanted to be the man you needed. The man you deserved.

"I'm not him, sweetheart," He said, attempting to stop you before you hurt yourself. "And I don't want you to get hurt-"

"Please," You beg, eyes filling up with tears. "I don't care who you are. I just don't want it to hurt anymore."

You were slowly killing him. How could he say no to you? Even if he was the worst Logan, he has a heart. Which is why he lets you close the gap between the two of you. His hands are tangled in your hair while one of yours rests on his jaw before climbing into his lap.

For the first time in years, your heart began beating again. You and Logan could play pretend for now. Neither of you cared what would happen tomorrow, right now was all that mattered.

[navybrat817]

What does Mr. Barnes think when he looks at Mrs. Barnes?

So many things, nonnie.

On His Mind

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: What goes through Bucky's mind when he looks at you.

Word Count: Over 600

Warnings: Established relationship, fluff, mentions of Bucky's past, Bucky Barnes being in love (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated! ❤️

Bucky can’t believe some days that you’re his wife. He can’t believe he has a wife. Locked in his own mind while a prisoner of HYDRA, he didn’t allow himself to believe he’d ever have that - someone to come home to, someone to fight by his side. Believing in that would’ve given him too much hope, and that hope being ripped apart would’ve destroyed him all over again. HYDRA destroyed enough of his mind and tainted parts of his soul, he couldn’t let them have his heart, too.

Bucky appreciates your patience and understanding, how you earned his trust completely, which isn’t something he gives easily. Treating him like a human instead of a broken toy or a weapon helped with that. You still display that patience and understanding, not taking offense if he has to sleep on the floor some nights and taking care of him and giving him a safe space to talk (or not) when PTSD creeps up unexpectedly. He knows many would’ve thrown in the towel early on, but not you. You’ve never given up on him.

Bucky admires your strength inside and out, how you worked hard to get to where you are and how you’ll stand up for what you believe in. You defend him so fiercely with your entire being, and you aren’t afraid to put anyone in their place when it comes to him. He tries to do the same for you in return because you deserve to have someone who will fight for you.

Bucky is in awe of your beauty. Doesn’t matter if you’re wearing a gown for a gala or walking around in a t-shirt, you’re the most enchanting creature he has ever seen in his life, and he’s completely under your spell. Your smile disarms him like nothing else ever could, and he wishes some days you could see yourself through his eyes. Especially on the days you feel down about your looks, he’ll tell you with his words and body how beautiful you are until you believe it again.

Bucky wonders some days how you can want him. Short or long hair, clean shaven or beard, scars and all, you think he’s handsome. Even if he gains a little weight, he still turns you on. You still jump right into his arms if you’re apart for too long. Maybe if he saw himself through your eyes, he’d see the beauty, too.

Bucky worries that his past will come back to haunt him. Maybe not HYDRA itself, but a relative or friend of someone they forced him to take out. He can take the punishment. He’ll gladly take their wrath. But you? He can’t let them touch you. It’s that fear that sometimes keeps him awake at night, and he will protect you should that day ever come.

Bucky feels lucky which isn’t something he feels often. Finding his other half made his life brighter, happier. It gave him courage he didn’t realize he was missing. It made him want to be the best version of himself. Hell, it even confused him because he didn’t realize he could care so much about someone else.

Bucky thinks most of all how much he loves you. Beyond the fears and his past, he wants to look toward a bright future that you believe he deserves. He wants to create more memories with you. Build a family with you. That hope he dared not to have years ago wasn’t just a flicker. It was a blazing fire that would never die.

And the ring around his finger is a promise that he will be forever faithful, forever devoted, and forever yours.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[dollfacefantasy]

ROLE REVERSAL ♡

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon finds his old raccoon city uniform. instead of letting the past haunt him, he dresses you in it. it looks much prettier that way.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, officer/criminal roleplay, handcuffs

a/n: for my leon babies, i hope you all enjoy <3

kinktober slot: day 5 - roleplay

The points of your heels click against the hardwood slats on the floor of the bedroom. Thin and elegant, the tips slick and triangular. Your boyfriend watches you waltz into the room from his spot on your shared bed. The sharp post at the center of the head board supported his hands, bound by a shiny pair of silver handcuffs.

"You're in a lot of trouble, Mr. Kennedy. Do you know why you're here today?" your voice asks, floating through the room in a seductive melody.

His eyes flit up and down over your figure. Your curves were clad in his police uniform. The spare one that hadn't seen the blood and guts of September 30th, 1998. The pale blue fabric remained pristine and bright. The golden badge on your breast glimmered as if Leon actually got to put it to good use. 

But he didn't have to think about that right now. Didn't have to remember how his life's dream had withered away with everything else in the nuclear blast. Instead he could look at you. How the cerulean polyester fits snug around your waist and chest. How you had the fabric tied into a little knot above your navel. How the pair of navy blue lace panties you had on below set off the light shade above perfectly.

A low whistle leaves his lips.

"No, sweetheart. But I gotta say, you look better in that old thing than I ever did," he responds.

A smile comes over your painted lips, but you still roll your eyes and stamp your heel.

"Leon!" you huff, "You agreed to do this, so you have to stay in character. That's not how you talk to an officer of the law."

"Oh, you're right. My mistake, officer," he says with a smirk. He clears his throat as if getting into character. "No. Not a clue."

That pleases you, and you continue walking towards the edge of the bed, your hips swaying with each step. A hair brush taps one of your palms. Your version of a night stick if he had to guess.

"I don't believe you. You've been a very bad boy. Committed a long list of crimes that should have you locked up for the next couple decades," you say.

As he watches your performance, he can't help but find you so cute. The way you speak, your attempt at taking control, is an obvious imitation of his cadence in intimate moments.

"Have I really?" he asks, eyes lazily drifting up to your face.

"Yep. But maybe, just maybe, if you give me some information about the people who put you up to it, we can make a deal."

"I'm not telling you a thing without my lawyer here," he says.

As cocky as he acted, Leon was already nude before you on the mattress. His pale skin almost glows in the dim orangey light of your bedroom. Scars trail across his abdomen that had become a little softer in the last several months. Brown hair dusts the skin of his tummy down to the collection of it curling above the base of his cock. His pretty cock, half-hard between his legs, just waiting for your attention.

You take advantage of his condition by ghosting the bristles of the brush over his v-line. The sensation tickles slightly. His hips twitch, and you see his dick jump at the faint touch to the sensitive area. 

"Why not? You can trust me, Mr. Kennedy. I just want to wrap this up as quickly as possible."

The broad end of your tool coasts over his stomach now, going up to his chest to tease his nipples before you swing it back down to the lower half of him. His heart beat picks up, and his blood starts flowing down south. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his length begin to stiffen.

"I'm not stupid," he says, his tone audibly huskier, "You never talk to the police without a lawyer."

Bringing your knee onto the edge of the foamy mattress, you boost yourself to kneel next to his immobile form.

"Normally I'd agree with you. But I'm different," you say. You come closer and swing your leg over his body so that you're straddling his lap, hovering above his cock. "Even though I believe you're guilty as sin, I want to help you."

His chest vibrates with the urge to groan at the feeling of your clothed heat so close to his aching shaft. "Why's that?" he chokes out instead.

"Because look at you. You're much more useful to me out here than behind bars," you say, reaching down behind and fondling his balls. The groan he held in before oozes from his mouth at the feeling. His cock kicks up now, resting against your center. You adjust to position the appendage between your legs. The cute pink tip stares up at you from where it peeks out of the junction between your thighs.

"That doesn't sound very professional, officer," he says. He has to remember that his hands are fastened above him because your hips call to him. The urge to squeeze them, to knead the flesh and smack your ass, boils in his chest.

You feel your clit starting to throb for his touch as well. The look in his eyes, the way his lips had parted to accommodate his breathing had you growing more and more damp by the moment.

"That, I never claimed to be," you say. 

You slide your hand down over your body, taking time to highlight the presence of his dated uniform. Your fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties. A shuddery breath leaves your lungs as your fingertip slots between your folds and finds your needy bud.

Your digit glides through the small amount of arousal, beckoning more to coat your cunt. He watches with lust-blown eyes, the surface beginning to glaze with desire. You whimper, the sound so soft and delicate it makes him buck upwards.

"Patience. You don't get rewarded for insulting me," you say and lift yourself away from him.

"Oh c'mon, baby," he grunts, "Gimme a break. I didn't insult you."

"Nope. I won't help you out unless you ask me properly," you say, grinning at the prospect of him groveling.

You play with your clit a little more, chest puffing within the confines of his top. You tilt your head back, and your spine arches with the dull pleasure you're providing yourself.

"Fuck..." he breathes, "Please, officer."

"Please what?"

"Please touch me."

The words come out laced with an intoxicating note of desperation. Your head returns to an upright position, your eyes blazing onto him.

"That's better," you purr.

By this point, you'd worked yourself up enough that the cloth guarding your cunt was soaked, sticky and clinging to your center. You spread your legs and lower to press yourself against him. He moans when your warmth makes contact.

You begin moving back and forth in tiny strokes. He whines and tugs on his restraints. The feeling of the fabric against him burns in the best way. A whine comes from you too as the bump of his tip strikes your bundle of nerves.

"Such a pretty, obedient boy. I bet I can whip you back into a functioning member of society in no time."

Grinding down with more pressure, a symphony of blissed out noises erupt from the two of you. Your palms rest on his belly to support yourself while your hips do all the work. Forward, backward, forward, backward. Like a pendulum you swipe over him in rapid succession.

Humping feels good. It always does. But after a while more, you crave a deeper sense of satisfaction.

You pull your panties to the side and grab his leaky cock. It had been drooling precum onto his pelvis, but now, it was going to be tucked inside you. You rise up and then sink back down, eliciting a mewl from yourself and another deep groan from your lover.

"See what happens when you behave and follow the rules?" you whimper.

"Uh huh. Think I'll be a much better citizen after this," he mutters.

You start to bounce, moving up and down on his shaft. The ridges of his veins rub against your insides. A chill runs up your spine. Bumps prickle up over your skin despite its heated nature. Your skin claps against his while pants puff from nostrils.

He's not keeping it together under you much better. He'd already been pretty close from the stimulation you'd given prior to this. Being engulfed in your tight cunt's wet embrace didn't stave off release at all. His heels dig into the mattress and allow him to reciprocate your movements, thrusting up into you shallowly.

"Fuck!" you yelp when he strikes your spot. You ride faster, getting lost in the pleasure. It's getting too hot now, so you tug the police shirt off your body, your breasts swinging free. The cool air brings some relief, and you toss the garment to the floor without another thought.

"Gonna cum for me, babydoll?" you ask Leon, the playful pet name you call him resurfacing. The commitment to the roleplay had vanished with the disrobing of the costume.

"Mhm, almost there, sugar," he grunts.

You squeeze around him, pulsing as your hips swivel and roll. You feel yourself getting there too. Release explodes in you like a firework, bursting in the pit of your belly and fizzling outwards to everywhere else. Your movements become erratic and rhythmless, but you continue on.

Leon can't take the pressure your orgasm brings. You clenching around him is too much to bear and he blows his load inside you, filling you up with his cum. You work it out of him with a few more fluid movements.

As soon as the wave has passed and receded, you fall forward onto his chest. You don't pull off him or let him leave your insides. All you do is nuzzle his dewy skin and smack a few wet kisses onto the area.

"You did pretty good," he rasps, the look on his face ever-teasing, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a professional."

"Oh shut up. You were into it," you huff and smile up at him.

Now you do climb off his body, reaching the floor and stretching your limbs. The next thing you want to do is go take a shower with your man, but you realize something and look over at him.

"Oh shit. Where did I put the keys to the handcuffs?"

[clown-cult]

( SPOILERS AHEAD) Things that will haunt me about the new live-action Avatar, the Last Airbender show:

Iroh being confronted by his past as a fire nation general and war criminal. Of course, Iroh is a cog in the machine of war that he’s part of and he’s changed his ways since, but that doesn’t change what happened in Ba Sing Se under his leadership.

Sokka overhearing Hakoda being disappointed in him. Y’all were worried that Sokka wouldn’t get as much characterisation in this version. Well, we got this and it broke my heart.

Katara witnessing her mother being executed in front of her. She immediately covers her mouth to keep herself from screaming. Her mother died so she could live, and so even as she cries, Katara quiets herself so her mother didn’t die for nothing. What a terrible responsibility to place on yourself.

Zuko sitting with Iroh next to Lu Ten’s casket. Cue that goddamn instrumental of Leaves From The Vine. This version really understands and cares about Zuko and Iroh’s bond.

Gyatso telling Aang that even if he had come back that night, he wouldn’t have been able to make a difference. It wasn’t his fault. This broke me. We hear from Katara in TLOK how much the Air Nomad genocide affected him through his entire life, despite everything he achieved. He never recovered from the guilt of wondering “what if”. He carried it his entire life…and Gyatso waited as long as he could in the spirit realm so he could free him of it.

Ozai’s face as he burns Zuko. Iroh looking away, Azula watching as a mixture of emotions go over her face as she witnesses her brother be mutilated, Zuko’s cries…girl I was struggling. Then we cut to Ozai’s expression and my heart plunged into my stomach. To me at least, and several others, it looked like he was trying not to cry. Ozai has done more terrible things than you can count…but he’s still a person and you have to sit there and watch in horror as some tiny, humane part of him revolts at the monstrous act he’s committing and his son screams in agony.

I know this show is getting a lot of criticism and that’s fair. It’s not perfect. But there are definitely parts of it that will stick with me for a while.

[starkwlkr]

the sound of my voice will haunt you | mark webber

part 1 part 2

Grace sat in a chair watching you and Mark talk. She was so bored that she started to imagine herself as you. She found a head set and slipped them over her ears. While she played pretend, you were facing reality talking with Mark.

“Does she know about me?” Mark asked.

“She only knows your name. I never talked to her about you. Why would I? You threw it all away so easily, Mark. You broke my heart.” You snapped at him. You had to calm yourself since your daughter was just a few feet away.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness and the amount of times I say I’m sorry isn’t going to fix it.”

“If this is you telling me you want to be in Grace’s life, you have no right.”

Mark knew that. It absolutely broke him that he had a daughter and he couldn’t be with her, but he had fucked it all up. He looked over at the young girl and saw how she played with the head set. She was a miniature version of you.

“I know and I won’t ask for forgiveness of any kind, not from you or Grace. You’ve done an amazing job raising her.” He continued. “Maybe one day you could tell her about me? If not, i understand.”

“As if you told anyone about me in your book. Mark, I did everything for you. I got in trouble for driving you to races, my parents almost took away my keys! I worked day and night in a shitty restaurant, I almost missed my own graduation because of you! A little note would’ve been nice, but it’s as if I never existed in your world. It hurt me.” You held back tears. Suddenly you’re a teenager again hearing all the loud yelling coming from your parents for driving Mark to his races.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to mention you at all. . . ” He said quietly.

“You’re my past now, I would love to stay away from the past. So when you do attend any of the upcoming races and Grace is here, don’t talk to her. It would be better if she didn’t know about you. Please.” You stated.

My own daughter won’t know about me

Mark understood. It would be better after all.

“Okay.” Was all he managed to say. He nodded and lanced one last time at Grace. “Goodbye.”

Before he could leave, Grace looked at him. She wondered why he looked sad. “Why are you sad? Is your favorite team not winning?” She asked Mark.

“Grace. . . It’s time to go.” You hoped Mark wouldn’t start a conversation, but he did. Of course he was making it harder for you.

“Actually, I used to drive for the team that’s winning and I was okay for a number two driver.” Mark crouched down to talk to Grace.

“Did you win lots of races?” She asked.

Mark let out a chuckle. “I won nine races.”

Grace gasped. “My dad won nine races too!”

At that moment, you wished you were anywhere else. Why couldn’t Mark just leave? Why did Grace have to be nice to everyone and be so curious? And why did you tell Grace that her dad was a driver?

“Your dad? He drives?” Mark questioned.

Grace nodded. “Well I think he doesn’t anymore. Mom said my dad was a driver and that he won nine races, but that’s all I know. I had to make a school project about my family and I asked mom about my dad. Do you know my dad?”

Before Mark could reply, you stepped in. “Sweetheart, it’s time for him to leave. Come on, we’ll get ice cream on the way back.”

“Bye!” Grace waved to the unknown man as you grabbed her hand and walked away from Mark.

He felt a little okay knowing his daughter knew something about him. Maybe one day you would change your mind and let Grace know the truth.

MIAMI 2024

Mark wouldn’t see you or Grace until the Miami Grand Prix. He honestly didn’t feel like even going, but Oscar insisted. At least he wasn’t going to be alone, Jenson was also going, but the British man would be conducting interviews. He kept busy looking at his phone until found him in the Mclaren hospitality. He wasn’t sure why you were even looking for him in the first place.

“Can you look after Grace? My friend couldn’t make it and she was the only person I trust to look after her. I wouldn’t ask if I had another option.” You sighed.

“Yeah, I’ll take care of her.” Mark nodded, putting his phone away. “Where is she?”

“She’s with Oscar in his driver’s room. Just please don’t mention the obvious.” You demanded.

“I won’t, but can I ask one thing?” He stared at your eyes that he still loved after many years. “Why did you tell Grace that her dad won nine races and that he was a driver? You could’ve lied.”

You didn’t want to lie to your daughter, you just couldn’t so you told her part of the truth. Technically, you didn’t think she would even meet Mark ever.

“I can’t lie to her. She knows when I’m lying anyways.” You said.

“What’s her favorite color?” Mark suddenly asked. “I want to know at least some stuff about her so I can talk to her. What if she gets bored halfway through the race?”

You hesitated even telling Mark, but you did anyway. “Her favorite color changes everyday, but today it’s purple. She loved coloring with chalk, she wants to have a puppy and name it Goose like the character from Top Gun, her favorite book series is Junie B. Jones and she tells everyone that she’s tall for her age.” You listed several things.

Mark smiled as he listened to you. “Top Gun? We watched Top Gun on our first date, you know?”

“You’re so annoying.”

You and Mark walk back to the Mclaren garage, which obviously made several people confused. Were you back together? No, you couldn’t be . . . right? By the time the race was close to starting, photos of you and Mark were everywhere. Even Sebastian had texted Jenson wondering about you and Mark.

Grace was sitting next to Mark when the race began. She occasionally glanced at him then grabbed his paddock pass and read his name.

“You’re here with Oscar?” She asked.

Mark nodded. “I’m his manager.”

“So you’re like his dad when his dad is not here?”

“That’s one way to put it.” He chuckled. “Your mum told me you like want a puppy.”

Grace’s eye lit up with joy. “Yes! The puppy is going to be named Goose and they’re going to sleep in my bed.”

Mark hardly payed attention to the race. He kept asking questions in hopes that he could learn more about her. Once in a while, you would look back only to see Mark and Grace laughing.

“One time, my mom almost lost her necklace because she was dancing too hard to her favorite song. It fell and we looked everywhere for it but we couldn’t see it because it was a small letter. But I found it!” Grace said which made Mark question if it was the same necklace that he had given you years ago.

“What letter was it?”

“I think it was M?”

The ‘M’ necklace was a gift from Mark on your first anniversary. It was old, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of it. If anyone asked what the M stood for, you lied saying it was your middle name or for someone in your family.

“Does your mum always wear it?” Mark asked.

“Not anymore. But I think it’s pretty.” Grace replied. “Your name starts with M!”

All Mark did was nod.

The race had finished and soon you were back to your daughter. She had told you how Mark has dogs and invited her to meet them.

“Grace, can you go sit over there for a little while? I need to talk to Mark.” You pointed to the seat that she was sitting during the race. She obeyed and now it was just you and Mark. “Thank you. I really hope she wasn’t too much to handle.”

Mark shook his head. “She’s very talkative when it comes to her favorite things. She’s a great kid.” He debated whether to tell you about the necklace story that Grace had told him. Finally, he decided he would keep that to himself.

“I wanted you to hear this from me instead of the media. I’m leaving the team after this season.” You said only loud enough for him to hear.

“But you’ll be back, right? I mean the team is doing well, Lando just won his first ever race, obviously it could’ve been better for Oscar, but you are the heart and soul of this team.” Mark could see a frown forming on your face.

“I love this team, but it’s time for me to be a mom. Grace needs me, Mark. I already told Zak and it’s final. They’ll announce my departure soon. Thanks again for looking after Grace, this is the last time you’ll see her.”

He was glad that he could at least spend some time with Grace. She was a joy to be around. Their time together was something Mark would cherish forever.

For the rest of the 2024 season, Mark stopped calling you the Mclaren team principal and, instead, used your name. He praised you, gave you the credit you deserved and defended you any time. Mark had even made a statement about the person who had leaked the information about you and him when he talked with Fernando. It was rumored that a photographer had leaked it. He knew nothing was going to change, but he needed to correct his wrongs. It all started with an instagram post about you.

INSTAGRAM

(this is just for fanfic purposes, you can use any faceclaim)

liked by oscarpiastri, f1 and 837,377 others

aussiegrit everyone i meet will have to know you, to understand me. anyone that truly knows me, knows your name.

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[pocket-of-sunshine24]

Home For The Holidays (S.H. x Reader)

Summary: Steve and the reader were inseparable as kids, but when high school hit, Steve became "King Steve," and their friendship fell apart. After graduation, the reader leaves Hawkins for college, trying to move on from the past.

Years later, they return home for winter break, only to be forced to confront old memories and people they thought they’d moved on from. At the top of that list is Steve Harrington. He’s changed, but is it enough for the reader to trust that he’s no longer the person who left them behind—or is there still too much pain from their past to bridge the gap?

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: Angst, hurt and comfort, Steve calls reader "sunshine", fluff at the end, lots of feeling alone and left out, having to talk things out, King Steve ruins things for himself (as usual)

Authors Note: Heyyyy! Here's the full fic of the drabble I posted a few days ago. I tried to keep this gender neutral, but if you notice any mistakes please let me know. Also this is my first time ever writing a fic so please be nice, but feel free to comment feedback! Thanks for reading!

Divider created by @strangergraphics-archive

Driving through Hawkins on the way home feels bittersweet. Watching all the holiday lights flash by as you turn down your street, with memories from when you were younger flashing by just as quickly. With a deep breath you try to remind yourself that you’re only home for a couple of weeks. You can do this. It’s not like you’ll have to see him. No matter how small the town is, you know you can just stay home and avoid your old usual spots no matter how much you want to see what he’s up to now. But that boat passed a long time ago. You both made your decision. You doubt he even remembers you. With that thought you pull into your driveway, an ache for what once was sits on your chest.

The house looks the same as you remember it—nothing about Hawkins ever seems to change. The faded shutters, the cracked driveway, the overgrown rose bushes that your mom used to tend to—everything is just as it was when you left, frozen in time. But as you stand there, you feel the weight of something missing, like the town itself has stalled, unmoving, while everything you once felt here has slipped away. The memories, once vivid and full of life, now feel distant, as if they belong to someone else. You take a breath, and it feels as if you’re the only one who’s changed. Hawkins hasn’t moved, but somehow, you have. And you don’t fit anymore.

You grab your bag and step out of the car, the cool air biting at your skin as you walk toward the door. The familiar sound of your mom’s voice calls out from inside, pulling you back to reality. You’re home and you’re here to spend time with your parents, not get caught up in the past.

The evening passes in a blur of catching up, the easy chatter of family life filling the space that once seemed so comforting. But no matter how hard you try, your thoughts seem haunted by the ghost of your childhood. A tall, tanned boy with a penchant for mischief. Steve Harrington.

What had he become? Was he still the same guy who’d once made you laugh until your stomach hurt, or was he still ruling over Hawkins as King Steve like he had in high school? You didn’t know. And part of you wasn’t sure you wanted to find out. You had your own life now, a life that no longer included him. The thought should have been comforting, but instead, it gnawed at you in the quiet of the evening.

Later that night, as you lie in your old bed, the familiar creaks of the house lull you into a restless sleep. You can’t shake the feeling that you no longer belong in this space. The bed feels too small, the sheets too itchy. It’s as though Hawkins itself can sense the change in you, urging you to either fit back into the version of yourself that once belonged here—or leave for good.

The next day, you wake up feeling exhausted from the restless night. Deciding that being cooped up in your house for 2 weeks will only serve to drive you insane, you head out for a morning walk to clear your mind. You spent too many hours the night before reminiscing on what was and people from your past. You need to remind yourself why you left Hawkins in the first place.

You make your way downtown and step into the grocery store, recalling your mom’s complaint about not having any eggs for the holiday party she always hosts at the end of next week. As you pass through the doors, you welcome the warmth, a respite from the biting cold. Keeping your head down, you move quickly through the aisles, eager to grab the eggs and get out without running into anyone who might recognize you.

But as soon as you send that wish out into the universe you run into Nancy Wheeler. You freeze for a moment, your stomach dropping. Nancy, Nancy, who always had a knack for seeing through people, looks at you, her expression shifting from surprise to a hint of recognition. Her eyes flash with an emotion too quick to place. The grocery store suddenly feels smaller, and the cold of the outside world seems to creep in despite the warmth around you.

"Well, look who it is," Nancy says, her voice both familiar and slightly guarded. "I didn’t expect to see you back in town." She gives you a polite but somewhat distant smile and, you can’t tell if it’s just her usual friendliness or if there's something more beneath it.

You manage a tight smile, feeling the awkwardness settling in like a thick fog. "Yeah, just for the holidays. You know how it is." You try to sound casual, but your voice feels a little too forced.

Nancy nods, taking a step back to give you space in the aisle. Her gaze lingers for a second longer than necessary, as if waiting for something, but then she pulls a carton of milk off the shelf and places it in her basket. The silence between you both stretches, heavy with unspoken words and broken promises. Past memories bubble up of watching her and Steve through their best and worst times. Memories of Steve coming to your house drunk and crying because Nancy had said their whole relationship was bullshit.There had been so much left unsaid between them, so much hurt, that it fractured his relationships with everyone else. You suppose that’s when time started to slow to a stop in Hawkins. And now, here you are, standing in the sterile aisles of the grocery store. The years apart feel like a wall that neither you or Nancy is sure how to climb.

“So…” Nancy starts, as though she’s considering something, the words tentative. “How have you been? Really, I mean.” The question hangs in the air, and you can hear the genuine curiosity in her voice, but there's something else there, too. A carefulness.

You feel the pressure to answer, but you’re not sure where to start. What part of your life do you even mention? The life you’ve built away from Hawkins? The tangled feelings about everything you left behind? Or do you just lie, let it all slide with a simple answer?

You’re not even sure if Nancy knows about what happened between you and Steve. Do they still even talk? You’ve been so out of the loop on everything in the lives of those who stayed in Hawkins. You feel as if you’re just passing through, forced to watch as they continue on without you.

“Oh you know, I've just been busy with school, but it’s been good. It’s nice to have a break at home though,” you respond politely. Trying to figure out the best way to get out of this situation without seeming rude. You glance towards the door hoping she’ll end the conversation there and let you leave. But she continues on oblivious to your growing discomfort.

“Hey, I know you haven’t been home in a while, but you should stop by mine this Friday. I’m having a small get together with a couple friends. You’re invited if you want. I will let you know Mike and his little group will be there too because if they aren’t invited he’ll give me hell.” Your lips twitch into a genuine smile at the mention of Mike and the others. It’s been so long you wonder how they have changed, if at all, in this town stuck in time. Your heart twinges at the thought that they’ve grown since you’ve last seen them, but it was your decision to leave. Your decision to not come back until now.

With a tentative smile you say, “sure I’ll see if I can make it.” You begin to turn, having long forgotten the eggs that sent you into the store in the first place, when Nancy grabs your wrist and says, “It’s good to see you again, really it is.” Her eyes are earnest as she stares at you. It’s as if she’s trying to see something in your eyes. Or piece together a puzzle in her head. You just give her another small smile and quickly exit the store, your mind even more foggy than when you left the house this morning.

Hands shaking as you exit, the bitter cold rushes against your cheeks. You weren’t ready to see anyone from your past, let alone anyone with a connection to Steve. It’s been so long. You aren’t even sure you would recognize him if he stood right in front of you. The memories with him are precious, too precious to let go of, but the hurt has frayed them over time—left you wanting to forget even as you long to keep them close to your heart.

You mull over Nancy’s invitation for this Friday. It’s only a couple nights away. Is Steve gonna be there? Are you ready to face even more people you left behind here? You’re not sure, but maybe it’s time you tried anyway.

The rest of the week passes with no further drama. You spend lots of time with your parents getting the house ready for your mom’s annual holiday party. Setting up decorations, putting up the tree, finally getting those eggs she needed.

Everything seemed to be falling into place. You eventually let the awkward interaction with Nancy fall out of your mind as you find a small comfort in the routine with your family.

Friday creeps up on you until it’s merely two hours before Nancy’s get together. You’re freaking out. Clothes thrown all over the floor, your room a disaster zone. Nancy didn’t say much about what to wear. Did you need to dress up? Was it more casual? You were overthinking every little thing because it was easier to do that than to think about who might be in attendance at said gathering. Your heart races as you think about what might happen tonight. You force yourself to take a deep breath and square your shoulders, you’ve been running from this town, this moment for long enough, you need to face the past and the mistakes that haunt you.

You step in front of your mirror, still unsure of what you're doing. The outfit you finally settled on is simple—a nice sweater, some jeans, shoes that are neither too casual nor too formal—but nothing about it feels like it fits. The sweater clings uncomfortably, the jeans stiff—like they're not even yours anymore. You feel like you're pretending to belong here, as if all these years away haven't changed anything. You stare at your reflection just for a moment, and it feels like you’ve stepped back in time—like you’re sixteen again, about to sneak over to Steve’s for a movie night—when everything seemed so much simpler. But you’re not that girl anymore. The one who fit so perfectly in this town. You try to shake the memory from your head, but it lingers, pulling at you like a thread ready to unravel everything. For a second, you wonder if you’re making a mistake, if going to the party is just you trying to force yourself to become the girl you were before you left. To pretend that time stopped for you too after you left Hawkins. But it didn’t. Time kept going. You left, and you changed. You don’t fit here anymore, not like you did before. You don’t match. Before you can second-guess yourself, you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that facing the friends who stayed in Hawkins is the only way forward. No matter how much it hurts. With one last glance at the mirror, you grab your keys and head out the door. Your car hums softly as you drive toward Nancy's place. The familiar streets of Hawkins look the same as always, but now they feel cold, unfamiliar, as if the air is heavy with something more than just the winter chill. You arrive at the Wheeler’s house, the warm glow of lights spilling out from the windows. The faint sound of music and laughter drifts through the air, a stark contrast to the tightness in your chest. You take one last moment to yourself before stepping out of your car. And as you exit, the cold bites at your skin. It feels as though the sound of your shoes echoes louder than they should against the quiet street. You try to steady your breath, your heart racing as you work up the courage to ring the doorbell. For a second, you hesitate, the weight of everything you left behind in this town bearing down on you. Then, with a final deep breath, you press the doorbell and wait, feeling your pulse thundering in your ears. Nancy opens the door with a wide smile, looking exactly the same. The same easy confidence, the same look of someone who’s always known her place in the world. She steps aside to let you in. “Hey, you made it!” she says, her voice casual and warm. You almost feel like you belong here. Almost.

She leads you into the living room, where a few people are already gathered. It’s quiet enough to still feel intimate, but lively enough that the evening doesn’t feel awkward. Christmas lights hang everywhere, casting a soft glow that feels like a gentle embrace. The scent of cinnamon and pine lingers in the air, pulling you back to childhood holidays where her and her mom would drop off their special holiday cookies to everyone in town.

A modest Christmas tree sits in the corner, its twinkling lights offering a simple, homey feel that tugs at something deep in your chest. It feels almost like nothing’s changed, even when you know so much has. Still, the warmth of the room eases some of the tension you didn’t realize you were holding.

You glance around, trying not to draw attention to yourself. Your eyes scan the room, landing on familiar faces—Jonathan, Robin, Dustin, Max, Mike, El, and Will—all of them seem the same, but also different. Not just older, but somehow… more. More aware, more grounded. Their eyes carry a maturity that wasn’t there the last time you saw them, bickering and riding their bikes to Mike’s house, so carefree. The weight of it hits you in a way you weren’t prepared for, the ache of time missed, of them growing up without you being there for it.

But then your gaze drifts to the couch, and everything else fades. Steve Harrington in all his glory. He’s sitting there, chatting with Lucas, a beer in hand, that familiar charisma still clinging to him like a second skin. For a moment, it’s as if you can pretend you’re 13 again about to watch some corny holiday movie with him at your house.

You hadn’t expected him to look the same—tall, tanned, but a little more muscular. His hair still that perfect mix of messy and styled. But it’s the new depth in his eyes that catches you off guard. There’s a quietness there now, something behind his usual charm that wasn’t there before. And it pulls at your chest, tightens it, a knot you can’t untangle. How much has he changed? How much has he been through that you missed?

You’re not sure if he’s noticed you yet. You try to steady your breath, your mind racing for something to say, something to do to break the tension that’s suddenly hanging on you like a storm cloud. But before you can move, Nancy’s voice breaks through.

“You can grab a drink from the kitchen if you want. It’s right through there,” she says with a smile, and you nod, grateful for the excuse to put some distance between you and Steve.

You head toward the kitchen, trying not to look too much like you’re avoiding anyone. As you step in, you find yourself staring at the sink, trying to gather your thoughts. You know this feeling—this knot in your stomach that tightens every time you think about him, about the things left unsaid between you two. It's been years, and yet here you are, standing in a room where everything is the same, but nothing feels familiar. It’s like walking into a scene you've seen before, only something’s different now. The sink, the countertop, even the way the light hits the corner of the room—they should be comforting, but instead, they feel distant, like you've stumbled into a version of your past that’s been subtly altered without you realizing. You can recognize the outline of what once was, but the edges are blurred, the picture incomplete.

The changes are small, almost invisible at first glance, but they pull at you, unsettling in a way you can't quite explain. It’s as though the space itself remembers, but it’s forgotten you. It’s still Hawkins, still Nancy’s house, but it’s not the one you left behind. It’s like the place has shifted without you, and no matter how much you try to fit into this scene, you know something is different—just enough for you to feel like you don't belong anymore.

You open the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water, when the sound of footsteps behind you causes you to freeze.

The smooth timbre of a voice you once knew so well, one that used to bring you so much comfort, cuts through the air. “Didn't think I'd see you tonight.”

You turn, and there he is. Steve Harrington. Right behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his presence. He looks at you, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though there's something else in his eyes—something soft, almost vulnerable, like he's unsure how to read this situation either.

You swallow hard, struggling to find your voice. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure either.”

He chuckles, but there’s no humor in it, just a quiet kind of acknowledgment. “It’s good to see you. I mean, I—" He pauses, and then his expression softens, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. "I didn’t expect you to come back. After everything…”

His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, like an unspoken invitation. An opening to finally speak the truth about what happened between you two all those years ago — when you made the decision to leave Hawkins, when you realized you no longer fit in a town that used to feel like home.

You want to say something — anything that might clear the air or break the sudden tension between you two — but it’s hard to find the right words. The only thing that feels clear is the space between you that’s been there for so long, and it seems impossible to cross.

Even when he’s standing here right in front of you it feels as though he’s miles away. Your fingers twitch with the subconscious urge to pull him into you. You look up at his soft brown eyes and open your mouth to respond, but before you can get anything out, Nancy’s voice calls from the living room. “Hey, don’t leave me hanging in there! We’re about to start a game.”

Steve glances at the door and then back at you, his expression unreadable. “I guess we better get in there,” he says quietly, taking a step back. "It’s… good to see you again."

As he moves to leave, you feel that familiar ache in your chest, the pull to say something more, to break through the walls you’ve both built. But the moment slips away before you can.

You follow him into the living room, where the sound of laughter and chatter fills the air. Your eyes find him again, across the room, and his presence feels like an open wound you can’t quite heal. As you watch, he seems so at ease here, surrounded by the people you can tell are his family. He laughs so freely, loves so loudly. It's so evident in the playful way he knocks his shoulder into Robin's.

So much has changed about him. When you left, he wasn’t this open with anyone—not even you. You would’ve never imagined he could share such easy camaraderie with Nancy or Jonathan. But here they are, smiling together like nothing in the past ever happened.

It hurts. To know that they reached him in ways you couldn’t. It makes you feel like you were never really needed. As if it was a good thing you left. As that thought crosses your mind, you suddenly grow hot and uncomfortable. Sitting here, watching them… it feels like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be. Something you aren’t meant to be a part of. You begin to fidget with the bracelet that sits on your wrist, twisting it with a sense of urgency. As if that small, repetitive motion could somehow quiet the storm inside your head as Dustin explains an overly complicated holiday game that his long distance girlfriend Susie told him about.

When you finally manage to pull yourself from your racing thoughts and look up, you catch Steve’s gaze—his eyes fixed on the bracelet you’re nervously twisting. It’s a brief moment, but it’s enough as he looks at you with an intensity that lights up your skin, his expression searching for something in your eyes. You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but the weight of everything unsaid—everything that’s always hung between you—feels too much.

You still remember the way he used to notice the smallest things, once saying, ‘You always seem to do that when you’re overwhelmed.’ Observing your need to fidget with something when you get anxious. The memory resurfaces now, and you watch him track the movement of the bracelet, a quiet familiarity in his gaze. You clamp down on it, halting the motion, and in that instant, his eyes snap to yours, sharp and perceptive. It’s like he sees straight through your façade, into the unspoken turmoil beneath.

You find yourself holding your breath, not knowing whether to look away or keep staring. He knows you, maybe better than anyone else, and there's a quiet ache in your chest at how easily he seems to read you even now. You feel like a stranger in this house full of people, full of laughter, but with him, it feels like time has gone backwards and you’re back to being best friends sitting on his patio complaining about the English essay you have to have done before the end of the week. You’re not sure what he sees now—whether it’s the girl he once knew, or the stranger you’ve become—but his eyes linger for just a second too long.

You want to say something. To bridge this gap that feels ever growing, but the truth is, you don’t even know what you’re feeling or what you would say. It’s been so long since you last saw him and you don’t even know if he would want to hear what you have to say. So much is different now. There’s so much you don’t know about him anymore.

The sound of laughter from Robin seems to shatter the moment, pulling Steve’s attention back to her. You just sit there, frozen, your hand still gripping the bracelet like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored. The noise of the party swells around you, but it’s distant—like you’re standing on the edge of it all, watching from the outside. Everyone is laughing, caught up in their conversations, and you feel like a shadow, unnoticed, as though you’re no longer part of this world. When you finally check back in, Dustin and Lucas have started bickering over the rules of the game.

“Man, that doesn’t even make sense! Why would I have to go back to Santa’s Workshop just because Rudolph saw me walking outside? You made these rules up just so you could win!” Lucas accuses.

“I didn’t make them up! You’re just mad because you’re losing!” Dustin shoots back, pointing an accusing finger.

“Oh yeah? Well, maybe I wouldn’t be losing if you didn’t keep changing the rules halfway through! First, you say we have to find the presents, then you say the elves are watching us, and now—” Lucas waves his hands in frustration, “—I’m supposed to be stuck in Santa’s Workshop because of some imaginary reindeer?”

“It’s not imaginary! It’s part of the game!” Dustin retorts, crossing his arms. “You just don’t get it!”

“You’re cheating, that’s what you’re doing!” Lucas yells, causing a few heads to turn.

Steve, who had been half-listening, stands up. The laughter and chatter fade into a low hum in the background as he steps toward the two arguing boys, his voice calm but firm.

“Alright dipshits, enough,” Steve says, his tone brokering no argument. “We’re all here to have fun, not start World War III over a game. This is supposed to be fun for everyone.”

Dustin and Lucas both stop mid-argument, but they glare at each other, clearly unwilling to back down. Steve sighs, looking from one to the other with a raised eyebrow.

“Lucas, you’re taking this way too seriously. It’s just a game. And Dustin,” Steve turns his gaze to the other boy, “stop making up rules just to win.”

The tension between them doesn’t dissolve immediately, but there’s a subtle shift. Lucas crosses his arms, but the fire has gone out of his argument. Dustin shrugs but doesn’t speak, his posture a little less defensive.

“Look,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair, “why don’t we just take a breather, okay? If you two can’t agree on the rules, then we’ll just play something else. It’s not that big of a deal.”

After a beat, Dustin huffs, but he nods reluctantly. “Fine,” he mutters, not entirely happy, but willing to let it go for now.

Lucas lets out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s play something else.”

Steve gives them both a half-smile, satisfied with the result. “Good. Now hug it out so we all know you still love each other,” he says with a grin.

The boys roll their eyes but give each other an awkward hug. “You’re so lame Steve,” Dustin mumbles.

“Yeah way to make things weird Harrington,” Lucas agrees.

“Hey it’s not my fault you idiots start acting like 3 year olds when it comes to playing a game. I do what I have to do to keep the peace.”

The boys give each other one last look and walk off with the rest of the younger kids to find something else to occupy their attention. Slowly, the rest of the group begins to disperse, picking out new games or chatting in small circles. Steve turns back to the others, rolling his eyes. “If we weren’t here, they would burn this house to the ground.”

“Luckily we are here so they won’t,” Nancy says with a playful twinkle in her eye.

The two of them share a look, one that feels familiar—too familiar. It’s a shared joke, an easy camaraderie that feels like it has always existed between them. You can’t help but watch, feeling a pang in your chest. The last time you saw either of them, they weren’t even speaking to each other. The breakup had left things between them fractured, awkward, and heavy. You remember the silence between them, how they'd avoided eye contact and made excuses not to be in the same room. The tension had been so thick you could almost taste it. There were so many nights where you laid awake with Steve as he cried over the broken pieces of their relationship.

It’s unsettling to see them so comfortable. You wonder when things shifted, when they went from bitter exes to whatever this is now. It used to be like walking on broken glass around them, carefully avoiding the cracks in the conversation.

Now, though? It’s like that tension never existed. The warmth between them feels natural, even easy. They seem completely at ease with one another, like nothing ever happened. The way Steve looks at her, and the way she responds—it’s not the strained politeness you expected, but the kind of closeness you’d expect from long-time friends, maybe even something more. You watch them, trying to make sense of what’s happening. It’s strange. Stranger still, is how you didn’t even know it happened. Being away for so long, leaving these people behind—they didn’t stop living. They didn’t pause their lives waiting for you to come back. They went on, found new rhythms, new routines… and now, you’re a stranger in a space you once belonged. A space that’s now filled with laughter and inside jokes, with people who’ve moved on without you.

Steve turns back to the group, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, though, it’s kind of impressive how much chaos they can create in such a short time.” He flashes a grin, and Nancy laughs, nodding in agreement.

You feel a strange twinge in your chest, as if you’re not quite sure where you fit in this new dynamic, this new version of Steve, Nancy, and everyone else . You shift in your seat, suddenly aware of how much has changed—and how much you haven’t been a part of.

Even though you made the decision to leave, you can’t help but feel hurt—like no one fought to keep you here, like no one wanted you to stay. You’ve never felt the passage of time as much as in this moment. These people sitting across from you look the same on the outside, but so much has happened since you left. So much you weren’t a part of that you don’t know how you could ever fit in their lives again.

At this realization, you feel like an imposter, trying to slip into a life that no longer belongs to you. Sitting here, watching the group interact, you feel hollow. Steve pushes a hand through his hair and laughs at something Robin says, and it’s like watching a memory play back—his familiar movements, his laughter, the ease of it all. It’s like you were once fluent in their secret language, one made of glances, gestures, and unspoken words, but now it feels like you've forgotten how to speak it, and everything feels foreign.

You wish you hadn’t come tonight. But even as the thought crosses your mind, there’s a part of you that wonders if it’s too late to turn back. You stand and head towards Nancy to say your goodbyes. Tonight has rattled your nerves and you aren’t sure you could make it through a full night of being an outsider in the lives of people you used to call friends.

“Hey Nance, I’m gonna head out. I’ve got to be up early to help my mom with preparing for the holiday thing next weekend. Thanks again for having me.” You give her a tight smile.

“Of course! So glad you could make it. Do you want me to walk you out?” She starts to stand and the rest of the group looks over curiously.

“No you don’t have to do that! I’m just parked out front. I'll be okay.” You turn with a wave to the rest of the group, actively avoiding Steve’s gaze and head out to your car. The cold has only gotten sharper since your arrival and chills you to the bone. The wind whips past your face causing tears to well up in your eyes. A sigh escapes your lips, your steps heavy as you trudge towards your car, weighed down by your thoughts.

You hear a voice call out your name in the stillness of the night. Turning, you see Steve standing at the front door, his chest rising rapidly, like he sprinted to catch you before you slipped away. He looks both relieved and hesitant, his usual confidence softened by something you can't quite place.

“Wait up! I um.. I wanted to talk to you,” he scratches at the back of his neck. A sign you know means he’s nervous. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to have a conversation with him yet, but you don’t think he’ll let you get away without getting this off his chest either.

"I—um…" he clears his throat, then looks away briefly, before meeting your eyes again. "I’m really glad you came tonight, even if… well, I know it’s probably not easy."

A tight knot forms in your chest, and all the unspoken words you’ve held inside for all these years press against your throat, desperate to spill out, but you swallow them back down. Unexpectedly, a wave of emotion crashes over you. This is the person you once bared your soul to, the one you’d talk to for hours until the sun came up, losing track of time. Now, you can’t even bring yourself to meet his eyes. The tears that the wind has coaxed threaten to fall now as you force yourself to look into his warm, honey eyes.

“Steve…” It’s one simple word, but it carries a heavy history that presses against your chest. Saying his name out loud for the first time since being back feels like your heart breaking all over again. It’s strange how right it feels falling from your lips, and yet you don’t even know him as he is now. The Steve you knew was a lanky 10-year-old who always let you win at tag. But then, in the blink of an eye that boy grew up, and in doing so, he left behind his childhood to become someone new—King Steve.

King Steve was cruel and broken. You tried to stay by his side through it all, but when Nancy broke up with him it all fell apart. At first, he leaned on you, and it seemed like you might get your Steve back. But you quickly realized that wouldn’t happen. He put up new walls, built them higher each day, and you could feel the distance between you growing wider, until one day, you woke up, and there was an ocean between you.

You still remember the first time Steve didn’t smile when he saw you, the first time his eyes didn’t light up when he saw you. You told yourself it was nothing—just a bad day—but you couldn’t shake the feeling. Slowly, you started noticing the small changes: the way his voice lost its warmth when he spoke to you, the way his laughter felt strained, as if it was something he had to force. And then one day, you realized that the person you were talking to wasn’t Steve anymore. Not the Steve who had once been a part of every second of your life. It was as if all the years you spent together didn’t matter. Like you meant nothing to him. Not even worth remembering. You thought, maybe naively, that your friendship was something stronger, something that couldn’t just fade away. But when Steve pulled back, when he let the walls rise higher and higher, it felt like the rug was pulled out from under you. The person who once knew you better than anyone else was slipping through your fingers, and you couldn’t stop it. The innate trust you had in him started to fissure and crack, breaking until there was nothing left to salvage. That abandonment, the slow and painful disintegration of something you thought would always be there, made you question everything you knew about your friendship, about yourself. It hurt so much more than you ever expected it would.

You became a shadow of yourself—once bright and eager, now a hollow version of who you used to be. You stopped going out, stopped talking to anyone. It wasn’t just that you lost Steve. You lost yourself too. You lost your spark, the fire that used to drive you, and in its place was only emptiness. You withdrew into yourself, living on autopilot. Without Steve, it felt like a part of you was missing. He wasn’t just your best friend; he was your person.

You used to be confident, full of life, and now… you weren’t sure who you were anymore. When Steve shut you out, it wasn’t just him you lost—it was that piece of yourself that only existed when you were together. You became a stranger in your own skin, unsure of who you were without him beside you. And that uncertainty, that emptiness, followed you everywhere you went. Your parents noticed, their concern growing as they saw you shrink from the world.

It took time, and a lot of self-reflection, but eventually, you realized that staying in Hawkins was only hurting you more. You weren’t healing, you were sinking deeper into the same numbness. Leaving Hawkins wasn’t a choice—it was a breaking point. It wasn’t easy, not by any means. Every part of you ached at the thought of leaving behind what little you had left of Steve, what little you had left of the past. But staying was worse. Staying meant continuing to live in the shell of a life you once had, clinging to memories that could never be relived.

So, right after graduation you packed your bags, walked away from everything you knew, and left it all behind. You needed to find yourself again, to figure out who you were on your own. No Steve, no parents, just you. You went to college as far away as you could get, and promised yourself you wouldn’t look back. Until now.

When you look at him, it feels like all the old pain surges up again—like the weight of all the years and hurt is crashing down on you. Seeing him this close, after all this time, is like opening a door to a past you never fully closed.

“Steve..” you say his name again allowing yourself this one indulgence. “I don’t know if I can do this right now.” Looking up at his face, the face that you used to think was the sun, it’s almost too much, and for a split second, the world feels impossibly small. Everything around you fades into the background as you focus on Steve, standing in front of you—so close, so real. And yet, it’s like you can’t reach him, like you’re stuck in some place between the past and the present, where nothing feels clear. He’s here, and you want to reach out, but something inside of you pulls away, reminding you of everything that happened before. “Please, just—just let me say this. I know being back here is hard. Hell, it’s hard for me, too, seeing you here. But I missed you so much. You were my best friend—the only person I could truly be myself with. I don’t want to lose the chance of having you back in my life, all because I was too much of an ass to talk to you.”

His words hit you right in the heart, and for a moment you don’t know what to say. You want to believe him. You want to believe that he means it—that this is the Steve you used to know, the one you could trust. You can feel yourself so close to forgiving him, to allowing him back into your life, but the doubt lingers—like a shadow. How can you trust that this time would be different? The memory of him pulling away, disappearing without a word, is still so fresh in your mind. It was like he vanished without a trace, and you were left standing there, wondering if you had imagined the whole thing.

“You mean so much to me. Every day that you were gone was agony. I had to live a life without you in it, and I can’t imagine doing that again. Please, let me show you that I’m not the same idiot I was in high school. I’m different now.” His voice cracks on the word "please," emotion thick in his tone.

“Steve, I want to believe you, but how can I? I haven’t seen or spoken to you since before I left for college. We’re basically strangers now. I don’t know if I can put myself through that again. It almost destroyed me the last time. I can’t go through that again.”

As you look into his eyes, you realize you're both crying. Steve takes a shaky breath, wiping his eyes, but his gaze never leaves yours. The silence stretches between you, thick with all the things left unsaid. His hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach out but is afraid of scaring you off. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he’s holding onto this moment as if it’s the last chance he’ll get.

“I’m not asking for things to go back to how they were,” he says softly, his voice steadying a little. “I know that’s impossible. But I can’t keep living like this, wondering if there’s even a chance we can get back to some version of us. Maybe it won’t be the same, but I want… I want to try. To make it right.”

You take a breath, his words creating cracks in the armour around your heart. Part of you wants to give in. It’s so easy, so tempting, to fall back into the safety of something familiar. But you know the truth. You know that the old Steve, the one you could talk to for hours, the one who was your constant, is gone. In his place is this man, this version of him who’s grown and changed. You’ve grown too. And that hurts more than anything.

"I don’t know if I’m ready," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know if I can be the person you want me to be right now."

"I’m not asking you to be anything. I just want you to let me in. Let me prove that I’ve changed. That I’m not that guy who hurt you anymore." The desperation in his eyes is almost too much to bear. You can feel the tension between you, the pull of something that used to be so easy now tangled in doubts and fears.

"You don’t know what it was like," you say, voice cracking, "what it felt like when you… when you shut me out. It wasn’t just you pulling away. I felt like I lost everything. I didn’t just lose you, Steve. I lost myself. I couldn’t get out of bed for days because I thought I had done something wrong. I kept replaying every conversation we had over and over hoping to piece together what had gone wrong. It felt like I didn’t matter to you."

Steve winces at your words, his face falling. “I never wanted that. I swear, I never wanted to make you feel that way.” His voice trembles as he steps closer, hesitantly, as if testing the waters, unsure whether you'll let him. "I was such a mess back then, I didn’t know how to fix myself after Nancy left me. I thought I was broken. That no one wanted me in their life. I felt so lost for so long. I didn’t even realize I was drowning.”

You swallow hard, the knot in your chest tightening. You can see the guilt in his eyes, but you also see the vulnerability. And despite everything, despite the hurt, you want to believe him.

"I don’t know if I can trust you again," you whisper, the words stinging as they leave your lips.

Steve flinches when you say that. "I can’t promise that things will be easy. But I can promise I’ll show you every day that I’m trying. That I want to make this work." He pauses, letting the words settle.”I’ll wait until you’re ready. Just… please give me a chance to show you."

The silence lingers, and you’re left standing there, caught between the person you once knew and the person he’s become. You want so badly to reach out, to make it all better, but you’re scared. Scared of losing him again. Scared of opening yourself up to someone who might disappear again.

“I’m not asking for all of you right now," Steve says gently, as if sensing your hesitation. "Just… a chance. A chance to prove that I can be the friend you need. A chance to show you that I’m not the same person I was.”

You don’t know what to say. So, you don’t say anything at all. You just look at him, trying to make sense of everything. The past. The present. The possibility of something in between.

“I’ll… think about it. But I can’t give you an answer right now.” The words hurt to say, like a knife in your chest, cold and sharp, twisting deeper with every second that passes. But everything is so complicated now. You don’t know him anymore, don’t know if you can trust him, and it hurts so much to have to guard yourself from him—the one person you thought you would have by your side forever.

His face falls, and you see the disappointment in his eyes, but he nods slowly. “That’s fair. Just know, if you need anything, or want to talk… my number’s the same. And I work at Family Video now. You can stop in whenever.”

His words hang in the air, and there’s a rawness in his voice that makes it hard to look him in the eye. He goes to reach out, like he wants to comfort you, but then thinks better of it. Instead, he simply says, “I do miss you. So much.”

A tear escapes, running down your face. “I miss you too, Steve,” you say, your voice shaking, but you manage a watery smile before finally opening your car door to leave.

“I promise I’ll think about it. I just need some time,” you add, your hands trembling as you grip the steering wheel. He nods silently, his eyes never leaving you as you start to drive away.

"Get home safe," he calls after you, his voice small, almost lost in the wind.

Your hands are shaking as you back out of the driveway of the Wheeler home. You notice Steve is still standing there, watching you leave, his figure growing smaller in your rearview mirror until you turn off the street.

You know you needed to have that talk with Steve about everything. But that conversation has muddled your brain. Your heart is racing, and the weight of everything hangs heavy on your chest. Steve says he wants to show you he’s different, but deep down you know: if you let him back in, he’ll become your everything again. You worked so hard to figure out who you are without him and how you fit into the world, and now that you’re back home in Hawkins, all that work seems to be crumbling down.

You spend the next few days just trying to make sense of your emotions and figure out what you want. It feels like there’s a weight pressing down on your chest, like you’re fifteen again, replaying every conversation you ever had with Steve, trying to unravel what he’s really thinking.

You’re not sure if you can trust him, but he seemed so sincere. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that pulls you in, but that only makes you more cautious. He may look like the Steve you used to know, but there’s something different about him now. An air around him, a subtle shift in his presence, like he’s grown into someone else—someone you’re not sure you recognize. And that terrifies you.

What if you’ve both changed too much? What if you’re just too different now to reconnect, to rebuild what you once had? Letting him in again feels like taking a risk, like handing him the key to your heart and hoping he doesn’t have a knife waiting to use.

After thinking it over for days and days, you decide to go over to Family Video and invite Steve to your mom’s holiday party. You spent so much time deliberating that it’s now 3 days away. As you get ready you keep having to wipe your hands on your jeans because they’re so clammy. You aren’t sure why you’re so anxious. You’re just inviting him to a party. Your mom throws it every year, and everyone in town is basically invited. Taking a deep breath, you look at yourself in the mirror and try to reassure yourself. 'This is no big deal. Just two former friends reconnecting.’ But when you glance down, your hands are still trembling. You sigh and grab your keys getting ready to face Steve.

The bell rings as you step into Family Video. Glancing around your eyes are drawn to the checkout counter and instead of seeing Steve like you expected you find Robin, looking bored out of her mind as she flips through a magazine. She glances up at you as you walk over. “Oh hey! How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you since Nancy’s party.” She gives you a knowing look, the kind of look that makes you wonder if she knows more about what happened that night than you’d like.

“Oh, um yeah… just been stuck at home helping my parents.” You twist your bracelet nervously, eyes flicking around the space as you clear your throat, trying to gather your thoughts. You still haven’t figured out how to ask her where Steve is, when he steps out from the back room. It’s as though you summoned him with a single thought.

“Hey Rob, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure Dustin used my login to extend his movie rental again. I swear that kid will be the death of me.” He says as he walks out, pulling on his vest. Once his eyes find you, his face lights up, and he breaks out into a wide smile.

“Hey! What’re you doing here?” His voice is so full of joy it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. You glance at Robin, who stands behind the counter with a teasing glint in her eye. She looks at Steve, then back at you, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“I’m just gonna do some inventory in the back. Stevie buddy, you watch the counter while I’m gone.” She turns to leave, but not without muttering under her breath, “Try not to make a complete fool of yourself this time, dingus.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but his smile stays soft and warm. He turns back to you, his gaze is so intense you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

“So, what’s up? You here to pick out a movie? I’ve got a couple I think you might like.” His voice is steady, but there’s a spark there that makes you swallow hard, unsure of how to respond.

“No, actually, I um, I wanted to invite you to my parents’ annual holiday party this Friday.” You force the words out in a rush, nervousness spilling from you. “I know it’s only three days away and you were probably going to come anyway because, you know, it’s kind of a town tradition, but I—uh, I just wanted to invite you because you were really nice the other night and I’ve been thinking things over. I do want to try to be friends again, but I’m just a little nervous, so… I figured this could be a good first step?” You finish the sentence with a nervous chuckle, hoping he didn’t notice how much you just word-vomited in his direction. Your face heats up even more as you glance up at him, half-expecting him to laugh at you. But instead, his eyes light up with amusement, and he grins.

“Thanks, Sunshine, I’d love to go.” His voice is teasing, but there’s an undeniable warmth in his tone, that same old fondness you haven’t heard in years.

Your heart skips a beat at the old nickname. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips before you can stop it. You never thought you’d hear it again—and part of you is surprised to know that Steve still remembers it, even after all this time.

“Okay, good.” You swallow, trying to steady yourself. “Well, then… I guess I’ll see you there.” You turn to leave, but then his hand is gently on your wrist, and you freeze. His touch burns through the fabric of your sleeve, a searing heat that rushes to your chest, making your breath hitch. It’s been so long since he’s touched you like this, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed.

Your eyes widen as you stare down at where his hand rests on your wrist, the heat from his skin making your pulse race. When he realizes what he’s done, he immediately pulls back, a flush creeping up his neck to his cheeks.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” he says quickly, his voice softening. “Thank you for giving me a chance. I know this is just a party, but… you didn’t have to come all the way here just to invite me. This means a lot to me, and I want to prove to you that you can trust me.” His eyes meet yours with such sincerity, the emotion so raw it almost takes your breath away. “So, thank you—for letting me.”

Again, it feels like you’re seeing your Steve from so many years ago, and it’s like time hasn’t passed at all. The familiar, easy banter between the two of you feels comforting. You return his smile and say, “Of course. I want to get to know the you now, in the present. The Steve who’s friends with literal children and Robin Buckley. Nothing against her, she’s just way too cool for you, Harrington.”

“Hey, I’m way cooler than Robin could ever be!” he jokes, his grin wide and teasing.

You hear Robin’s voice float in from a few aisles over, “You wish, dingus!”

A small laugh escapes you, and you notice Steve’s entire demeanor shift—his shoulders relax, his smile grows, and there's a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. It's as if the sound of your laugh has put him completely at ease.

“Well, if she’s cooler than me, does that make me adjacently cool?” Steve asks with a sly smile, still holding that lighthearted tone.

“Sure, Steve,” you reply with a grin, your voice a little more carefree than before. After a few more exchanges, you find yourself waving goodbye and walking out of Family Video, feeling lighter than you have in days. It’s strange, but something has shifted in the air between you two. Maybe, just maybe, things could be okay between you again.

The whole drive home, you can’t help but smile. It feels like a small but important step forward. As you count down the days until the holiday party, you think about how it could be the beginning of something new. A new chapter. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe that maybe this time, things will be different.

The days fly by as you help your parents get ready for the holiday party. Your mom pulls out all the stops every year, but this time it feels like she’s taken it to a new level. The house is filled with decorations, and you half expect fireworks to go off and a dance number to break out. You keep that thought to yourself, though. God knows your mom would absolutely consider it if she knew how much her enthusiasm makes you feel like you're starring in a holiday special.

By the time Friday rolls around, you’ve lost track of the days completely. You’re so focused on getting every detail just right—helping your mom with the decorations, making sure everything is in place. She’s been running around in a tizzy since the morning, clutching a clipboard like a drill sergeant, barking out orders for the workers she hired to set everything up. You can practically see the pressure mounting on her as she insists, this party has to be perfect.

“Mom, you know you don’t have to do all of this just because I’m home this year,” you say as you watch her direct the placement of a giant ice sculpture—a snowflake, naturally.

“Yes I do, sweetie! This is the first time in four years that my baby’s back home, and I will not let it be anything less than perfect,” she says, practically vibrating with excitement. “Now, please go help your father with the garlands.”

You look over at her, still juggling a thousand things at once, and can’t help but smile. It’s hard to stay irritated at her energy; she’s just trying to make everything perfect. But you’re already thinking ahead to the evening, knowing you’ll spend the whole time playing the role of “dutiful child,” smiling politely at the family you haven’t seen in forever, while your mind lingers on the invitation you extended to Steve.

The pressure of the night ahead weighs on you, but you nod and make your way to find your dad, who’s untangling garlands and muttering about how nothing ever goes right when it’s time to decorate.

A few hours before the party is set to start, you head upstairs to get ready. The moment your foot hits the bottom step, it suddenly hits you—Steve is going to be here. Steve Harrington. Your heart stutters in your chest, and you nearly trip on the stairs, your body betraying the flurry of thoughts in your head.

You hadn’t fully processed this fact until now. Sure, you knew he was coming, but the thought was more a presence you couldn’t shake as you got ready throughout the day. Now, his arrival was just a few hours away, and the thought settled heavily in your chest. You could feel the flutter of nerves, the tightness in your throat, the pulse of doubt that made it hard to breathe. How would tonight go? You wanted to give him a chance, you really did. But the weight of the past hung on your shoulders.

Despite yourself, there was that tiny spark of hope flickering inside you—a hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d be the man you’d always thought he would be. But what if you were wrong? What if the person you once knew is gone, and all that remains of him is a memory that only you carry, a memory fading in the quiet spaces between what was and what is now?

You stand in front of your closet, staring at the array of clothes like you’re trying to decode some secret message. What do you wear when you’re trying to look casual but also somehow impress the guy who used to be your best friend? Maybe boots. Maybe a chunky sweater. You huff a small laugh at yourself. You’re definitely overthinking this. Your mind and heart race, the possibility of seeing Steve again churning up all sorts of emotions. The truth is, if tonight doesn’t go well, you’re terrified of losing him again.

After getting dressed, you step out into the backyard, hoping a few deep breaths will calm you down. The cool evening air brushes against your skin, and you listen to your parents putting finishing touches on the house, their chatter a steady hum in the background. You close your eyes letting the noise fade as you try to quiet the chaos inside your mind. Tonight will be fine. It has to be.

Soon enough, the party is in full swing. You’ve barely had time to catch your breath before the neighbors and your parents’ friends sweep you into their orbit. You’re the guest of honor, they say, and everyone wants a piece of you. There are too many familiar faces, too many questions. You try your best to smile, to be charming, to make small talk. But it’s all a blur, like you’re watching it happen to someone else.

Lost in thought, you barely notice the warm hand that lands on your shoulder, grounding you in the present.

“Hey, stranger,” Steve’s voice whispers in your ear.

You jump and spin around at the sound of his greeting. He looks… devastating. His hair, as always, is meticulously styled but looks soft, somehow. He’s wearing a pair of dark-wash jeans that hug his thighs in all the right ways. His shirt is a soft blue button-up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. In one word—perfection. If you could, you would have paintings made of the way he looks right now: the twinkle of the lights catching in his eyes, the flush of his cheeks from the cold, and the soft scent of eggnog mixed with something distinctly Steve.

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to brush off how flustered you feel. “Geez, Steve, you really know how to sneak up on me.” You attempt to sound casual, but he’s standing so close and you can feel the heat of his arm resting on your shoulder, burning through the fabric of your sweater. And yet, a warmth settles in your chest, like the missing piece that made everything feel out of place was the absence of Steve at your side.

“Sorry to spook you, Sunshine, but you looked a little lost standing here all by yourself. It’s my duty to make sure you have the best time tonight, especially since it’s your first holiday party since you left.”

“Oh, how kind of you, Steve. My knight in shining armour,” you tease, but the words feel lighter than they should. In reality, you’re relieved Steve has decided to stay by your side tonight. You’re not sure you could’ve handled a whole evening of your parents parading you around like a show dog. You know it’s just because they’re proud of you and have missed you, but it’s exhausting. What you really want is to spend time with Steve—just the two of you, getting to know the man he’s become since you left.

Steve takes your hand, pulling you toward the kitchen with an ease that feels both nostalgic and surreal. He’s been here before, countless times as a kid, and the familiarity of it all catches you off guard. Everything about tonight, about him, feels like stepping back in time.

He grabs two glasses from the cabinet, pours a drink for each of you, and hands one over. "I don’t know about you, but after all that forced small talk, I could really use something stronger."

You laugh softly, accepting the drink, and clink your glass against his. "We both deserve this. Cheers to surviving our parents’ social events."

The quiet clink of the glasses feels almost like a reset, an unspoken acknowledgment that the weight of the night—of the past—is slowly starting to lift. You both step outside, into the backyard, where the cool night air cuts through the still heat of the house. The contrast is almost soothing.

As you settle onto the swing set your parents gave you so many Christmases ago, a sense of calm settles over you. The air feels fresher out here, more open, and the gentle creak of the chains is oddly comforting. Steve leans against them, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar warmth, but something is different now—there’s a hesitation there, a quiet understanding that feels new.

"So…" Steve begins, his voice soft as he swirls his drink, "I still remember how much you used to love these parties. You’d dress up as an elf, and your dad would play Santa. Your mom was Mrs. Claus, and you’d talk about it for weeks before the big night."

You smile, a soft, bittersweet laugh escaping you as you look up at the twinkling string lights that fill the yard. "Yeah, it was a big deal back then. My mom always goes all out, even now, like she has something to prove every year." You pause, letting the memory settle. "It’s nice to be home, even if it’s a bit of a whirlwind." You turn to face Steve, your eyes scanning his face, noting how much he’s changed, how much time has passed. But his smile, his laugh, they’re all the same. "How about you? How’ve you been?"

Steve chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. "You know me, same old same old. After high school, I didn’t really know what I was doing with my life. But, I made it through. Just… took some time to figure things out. I had to work out who I wanted to be and who I didn’t."

He pauses, taking a slow sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on the glass as if searching for something in it. Then, with a small, almost sad smile, he looks back at you. "But of course, some things never change. My dad still thinks I’m a failure and a disappointment. My mom, on the other hand, hardly talks to me unless it’s about dad."

You can hear the hurt in his voice, but there’s a quiet strength behind it now—like he’s made peace with something difficult.

"I had to realize," he continues, his eyes steady, "that even though they’re my parents, I get to pick who I call family." He pauses, letting the weight of his words hang in the air for a moment. "My real family… are the kids, Rob, and Nance."

Your heart aches for him. You know Steve always longed for the approval of his parents, but they never gave him the love or recognition he deserved. It’s something that’s weighed on him his whole life. You remember how hard he worked to prove himself, and yet they never showed interest. But now, at least, he’s surrounded by people who truly see him—Robin, Nancy, the kids. They get to witness the real Steve, the one who’s found his place.

Surprisingly, a sharp pang of jealousy twists in your chest. They get to see him. The real him. And you’re not even part of his world anymore. You try to ignore the ache that forms in your throat. You’re trying, aren’t you? Trying to be a part of Steve’s world again.

You feel the shift in the air. "It’s weird how much life has changed since high school huh?"

Steve lets out a small, bitter laugh. "Yeah, weird isn’t the word I’d use. But it’s true. I’m not the same guy I was back then." He hesitates, his gaze flickering up to meet yours, like he’s uncertain about what comes next. "And… I guess neither are you."

You shift uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. There’s a part of you that wishes things were simpler, that the time apart hadn’t complicated everything. But then, you both need to be honest if there's any chance of moving forward.

The conversation hangs in the air, thick with unspoken things. You take a deep breath, knowing this moment can’t be avoided anymore. "Steve," you say quietly, "we need to talk about what happened. About… everything with you and me… what happened after you and Nancy broke up.”

Steve visibly stiffens at the mention of it. His gaze drops to the ground, and you can see the tension in his shoulders. There's a long silence, and then he lets out a breath, like he's been holding it for too long. Finally, his eyes meet yours, and there's something raw in his expression—vulnerability mixed with regret.

"I figured we’d get here eventually," he says, his voice quieter than usual. He looks at his drink before continuing. “I know you probably hated me after that. And I get it—I was a mess. But I never meant for it to hurt you the way it did.”

Your heart tightens at his words. Even though you’d tried to talk things out last week, something about this moment feels like the real beginning of the conversation—the part where everything comes into focus. “It wasn’t just the breakup, Steve. It was how everything went down. The way you… distanced yourself after. It felt like you didn’t even trust me enough to tell me what happened. We were supposed to be best friends, but you just shut me out. You didn’t even try to explain anything. Why didn’t you let me in?”

He winces, and his eyes fill with guilt. It’s the first time you’ve seen this side of him in so long. The Steve you knew in high school was always wrapped in confidence, hiding behind his jokes and easy charm. But now? Now, there’s a heaviness to his shoulders, a softness to his eyes.

“I didn’t know how,” he admits, his voice low, almost fragile. “I was falling apart. So caught up in everything that happened with Nancy. There were things we both said that made me rethink everything about my relationship with her—hell, about myself, about anyone. The last thing I wanted was for you to see that side of me, the part that was so lost and confused. I pushed everyone away, including you, and I regret it everyday.”

The weight of his words presses down on you. You don’t know how to respond. It’s like you’re seeing Steve in a way you’ve never seen him before—raw, unguarded, unsure.

You nod, your throat tight, feeling the years of silence between you both finally unraveling. “I get it,” you say softly. “But it didn’t make it any easier. You just… disappeared, Steve. You went from being the person I trusted the most, to someone I couldn’t even reach. And that… that hurt. A lot.”

He looks down at his drink again, fidgeting with the glass. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I never wanted to hurt you. I was trying so hard to be what I thought my dad wanted, what Tommy and Carol wanted. I was so caught up in my head, I couldn’t see what I was doing to the people who mattered most. What I was doing to you.”

His gaze lifts, locking with yours, and the emotion in his eyes is so raw, so intense, that it’s almost too much to bear. You find it hard to keep looking at him, the weight of his words pressing down on you. He looks at you, really looks at you, as if silently searching for a way to make you understand.

You pause, trying to process his words, and something clicks in your mind. The way he’s talking, the weight of his regret—it feels like there’s something he’s not saying, something left unsaid but hanging between you like an open wound.

You think back on what he said earlier. Your voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "What did you and Nancy talk about that made you rethink things?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably, his eyes looking anywhere but at you. There’s a beat of silence before he responds, his words careful, almost guarded. “We talked about… a lot of things, I guess. Things we never really said to each other when we were together. But mostly… it was about the way I let people in, or didn't. And… you.”

The word hangs in the air, and you wonder if you heard him correctly. “Me?” you ask, the uncertainty in your voice betraying how much his admission shakes you. "What do you mean by that?”

He meets your gaze again, his eyes heavy with meaning. “You were… always more than just a friend to me. I think I just didn’t know how to see it, how to understand it, back then. Nancy saw it before I did. But I wasn’t ready to deal with it. I thought it was just me being confused, but… I guess I was confused about more than I realized.”

His confession leaves you breathless. There's a rushing in your ears, a pressure in your chest, as you try to process everything he's just said. The weight of his words settles over you. Suddenly, everything feels different—the way he’d look at you, the small gestures, the things he never said but made you feel—now, it all makes sense.

You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself, your voice barely a whisper. “So, you… you cared about me, as more than just a friend?” The question feels absurd, yet you have to ask it, just to hear him say it, to make sure you’re not imagining it.

Steve exhales sharply, his hand running through his hair, “I’ve always cared about you. More than I ever let myself admit. But after everything, I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know how to make sense of my feelings. My girlfriend has just broken up with me after telling me our whole relationship was bullshit—said I wasn’t in love with her, but with you, my best friend.” He shakes his head, as if still processing the words. I was struggling to hold it together. I couldn’t think straight, let alone try to talk to you about it.”

The truth finally hits you, and it’s like a light switch flicking on. It’s not something either of you planned, not something either of you expected, but here it is—Steve’s feelings for you were there all along, buried beneath all the confusion, the distance, and everything you both went through. You’re left reeling, trying to figure out what this means for you now. Neither of you are the same people you were back in high school, but you can’t deny the pounding in your chest or the way your body heats when you’re close to him. It's a strange mix of emotions—part relief, part panic—and it leaves you questioning everything.

You don’t know how to feel, or even what you should feel. So many years apart have complicated things beyond recognition. You know you cared about Steve deeply when you were kids, but was it love? You aren’t even sure you know what love is.

But as you sit there in the quiet of the backyard, with the sound of the party just barely audible in the distance, your mind starts to drift.

You remember the way Steve used to look at you, like you were the only person in the room. How he used to make you laugh until your sides ached whenever you were sad, and how he always had your back, no matter what. You remember his confidence, even when it seemed like he was faking it. He was always trying to make everyone happy, and you made sure that he was happy too.

And then you think of how he is now. Not the flashy, show-off King Steve from high school, but a man who knows what he wants and what he believes in. You see the way he stands by his friends, how loyal he is to them—how protective he is of everyone he cares about. You realize that, somewhere along the way, Steve shifted from trying to meet others' expectations to defining his own way forward.

It hits you, slow and steady, as you look over at him—his cheeks flushed from the cold and the weight of his confession. Maybe this warmth you’re feeling has been there all along, quietly waiting beneath the years of silence and distance. Maybe Steve was never just your friend. Maybe, deep down, he’s always been more. He was always the one who mattered most, so perhaps it’s not so surprising that he’s become the one you love, even when you didn’t realize it. The way he’s changed has made you see him in a new light—he’s not the person he used to be, but he’s become someone better, someone you can't help but want to fall for.

You swallow, trying to clear the lump in your throat, before turning to him. “Steve,” you say softly, your voice barely a whisper in the cool night air, “I- I care about you too… as more than a friend."

His eyes widen just a fraction, and it feels like the world pauses. Then, slowly, a soft smile curves on his lips. “Yeah?” he asks, his voice quiet and unsure, like he’s testing the waters.

You nod, feeling warmth spread through your chest as you admit it out loud. “Yeah. Looking back, how could I not? You were my best friend for so long.” You offer him a shaky smile, one that says everything you can’t put into words. It’s not just the way you feel when he’s near, or how he makes you laugh without trying, but something deeper—something that’s been buried for years. When he pushed you away, when everything fell apart between you two, it hurt. But it also made you realize how much you missed him, how much you cared. The space between you now feels like it’s filled with all the lessons time taught you both, the things you learned in the years apart.

And now, here he is. Not the same person he was, but someone who’s been through struggles, someone who’s grown stronger, more sure of who he is and who he wants to be. The fact that you’re finally talking, finally being open with each other, feels like you’ve crossed some invisible line. It’s not just about moving past the past; it’s about being ready to be honest with each other, and with yourselves.

You can’t stop yourself now. The words slip out, raw and true. “You’ve changed, Steve, but so have I. I think we needed that space to grow into the people we are now. We’re better for it. We can be more open now than we ever were back then.”

He exhales a long breath, his eyes softening as he looks at you, like a weight’s been lifted. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says, his voice steady now. “Because, honestly, I’ve been hoping you’d feel the same. I’ve just… been waiting for the right moment to say it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and the tension between you both starts to melt away, leaving behind something new. Something neither of you expected, but both of you needed.

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, the weight of the past few years momentarily lifting. Above, the stars glitter against the deep indigo sky, their light soft and steady. You glance at Steve, noticing the way the faint glow from the house outlines his profile—the curve of his jaw, the softness in his eyes as he gazes upward.

“It’s weird being back. It felt like I didn’t fit in Hawkins anymore,” you admit, your voice quiet.

Steve turns to you, his expression thoughtful, his gaze drifting toward the stars before settling back on you. “Maybe it’s not about fitting back in,” he says softly. “Maybe it’s about finding a way to grow here—making a space that’s yours, where you can keep becoming whoever you’re meant to be.”

The words hang between you, and your breath catches in your throat. Steve leans forward slightly, his hand brushing against yours on the swing’s chain. His fingers are warm, and the small touch sends a jolt through you.

“I can’t believe I ever let you go,” he says softly, his voice raw and vulnerable. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering for a moment.

Your heart pounds as his eyes meet yours, filled with something you can’t quite name but feel all the same. “I’ve missed you too, Steve,” you whisper into the quiet night as he closes the space between you.

The kiss is soft, tentative at first, as though he’s testing the waters. Then, as you respond, it deepens, years of unspoken words and lingering emotions pouring into the moment. The world fades away—the stars, the party, the distance you’d both felt—all of it dissolves into the warmth of his lips on yours.

When you finally pull back, Steve’s forehead rests gently against yours. His eyes are still closed, and his breath comes in soft, uneven bursts. The faint sound of the party drifts through the yard, blending with the rustle of the wind in the trees.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

“Me too,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly.

As you look at him—really look at him—you feel the years of pain and uncertainty begin to loosen their grip. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something new. Something worth holding onto.

Sitting together in the quiet, you realize that maybe all those years of silence led you here, to this moment. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what it took to realize you’ve never really let go of Steve—not fully.

[leonsdolly]

Wicked Game

Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon leaves you for her, and you're not sure what to do now.

CW: nsfw 18+, infidelity, angst, suicidal thoughts, comparing yourself to her, masturbation, mentions of p in v

WC: 1.5k

“What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you…” You murmur along to the melancholy words that are floating around your room like butterflies. Actually, more like flies nearing the end of their life span - movement transitioning from an erratic flight to a lazy, almost purposeless dwindle until they’re on their backs with their legs sticking up in the air. That’s exactly how you are now that Leon’s done with you. A dead fly - no one could save me but you. Chris Isaak gets it. He gets it so well that he’s been looping for God knows how long.

Was it only last week that Leon left you for the ghost from his past? The one in red, haunting him in ways that you were oblivious to. Always bleeding red, like Bloody Mary or something. Maybe it was better if you’d feigned ignorance to the evidence. Maybe you’d still be able to call him yours if you played your role of a cross-eyed Mary jumping right into his arms with no protests, always playing it clean.

It was all because of a letter that was carefully tucked away in his desk drawer, folded and sealed with a kiss. No, literally a kiss. The bitch left her lipstick imprint in lieu of her signature. YSL, shade R1. You’d always been a Dior girl anyway. 

You swore up and down that you weren’t purposely snooping through his belongings, that you were just looking for Scotch tape. The offensive document shook in your hand as you fearfully inquired about its contents. He was stuttering and ashamed and apologetic and all the things a good man is when he’s sinned. He let you cry and scream and sink to your knees with your head in your hands like you were never going to come back up, like you could die in this position and be encased in marble. A new weeping angel.

You know in your heart that you could never equate to her in his eyes. The knowledge that he’s probably been comparing you to her throughout your relationship makes you so damn ill. Maybe you should slit your own throat in front of him and let the crimson flow over your body so you can match with her. Bleeding red all over the place, letting him see nothing but that cursed color, the way he did all those years ago in the city where it all started. The way he’d still continued to do so after meeting you and promising all sorts of things you weren’t accustomed to hearing. You suppose you can’t fault him completely, it wasn’t like he intended on hurting you; he’d tried to overcome his adversities and forge a new home for himself, one that was pink and frilly and covered him in glossy kisses after a long day at work. But ultimately, it wasn’t enough. His allegiance lay with first red, then white, then blue. 

You just miss him so damn much. You’re desperate enough for him that if he were to walk through the door right now, you’d take him back in a heartbeat. Sure, maybe you’d have difficulty meeting his eyes for a while, deep pools, murky with guilt and who knows what else. Your vision would be limited to the freckles on his neck, the ones resembling a vampire bite, but that’s alright with you. You’re familiar with the area, having kissed it so many times. You shouldn't be thinking about those little spots or anything else about him for that matter. He made his bed, and now he has to lie in it. With her. Pressed up against her with his face tucked into the crook of her neck. Oh God, now you're the one seeing red. Is there really such a thing as a red string tying two people together, keeping them bound for eternity? Hopefully not, because you're nauseous at the concept that it's always been her. She was right there beside his former bright eyed and bushy-tailed self, the version that had a vague understanding of how the world worked, before he was your solemn Leon. They trudged through the abyss together, leaning on one another for strength in the midst of a plague. You wish God would just deliver armies of locusts to devour you and him and her and the rest of the world. The end is here anyway now that he isn’t. 

Your last memory of him is that pitiful look in his eyes as he gazes at you one more time. You said I was your baby. He said a lot of things, promised you the world, and look how things turned out. It’s sickening really, how cruel fate can be. Was this fate? You’re going to tie their disgusting red string around your neck and squeeze until your head pops off like a rocket. A blazing glory, capable of stealing his attention.

The thoughts of needing to be better so that he’d be with you again swirls around in your brain, filling up your entire being until you can’t bear it any longer. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to put a ring on your finger and give you his babies and hold you close on your deathbed. Your hand twitches, muscle memory activated from all the times you slipped your hand into his, anchoring you to him. I’m so sorry… Ada and I… We’ve been through a lot together. You can’t take this anymore. But I love you more than anything in the whole world… How am I supposed to live without you? He never did give you a proper response to that, silence encompassing the air between you.

You shuffle to the bottom drawer of your dresser and fish out a wrinkled shirt that had been shoved towards the very back, away from prying eyes - navy blue with the letters “RPD” emblazoned in white across the front. You slip it on and inhale the fabric draped over your frame, protecting you, hugging you as you crawl back into your bed. His arms really were the loveliest place to be. Firm and gentle, wrapped around your torso like your very own bullet vest. Shielding you from horrors you would never have to experience, he’d make sure of that. Or at least he had, anyway. His lingering scent fills your senses like whispers in an abandoned chapel. Something familiar, a sense of comfort in your hollowed out state. It takes over your grief for a second, and when you shut your eyes tight, everything is alright again.

You yearn to hold onto this feeling, but it dissipates once your eyes open, and you're isolated yet again. Your bottom lip trembles as you squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, gripping onto the hem of his shirt. His arms are around you again, and the smell of him is welcomed. It elicits a natural response from your body, begging for his touch, forming a silent prayer to any divinity who will listen. Your thighs involuntarily part as you reminisce on the feeling of his face in between them, tongue lapping at everything you have to offer. Whimpers fall from your lips as your other hand travels down to slowly stroke your clit the way he used to do it. There’s my baby. You’re his baby, still so good for him. You rub your clit faster and faster as the hand that was clutching onto his shirt for dear life comes up to squeeze your tits and pinch your nipples. 

You realize that tears have been running down your flushed cheeks as you grind down onto your fingers faster in an effort to chase your high. Just like that… Sweet baby, my sweet baby. 

He's probably fucking her at this exact moment. Cock buried miles deep inside her perfect cunt, perky tits bouncing at every thrust while she moans for him. You’re going to blow your brains out. What kind of sounds does she make when she’s getting the railing of a lifetime? Something more refined than your own little whines. Is she kissing those precious freckles on his neck, giving them all the attention they could ever ask for as he lets out his own delicious noises? You weep as you continue to rub your clit while slick leaks from your neglected pussy, begging for only him to fill it up.

You’re sobbing as you feel the release building up in your core, and you're bawling as you feel your pussy clamp around the ghost of his cock. You let out a cry of both pleasure and agony as you frantically cum all over your fingers. My perfect baby.

Shallow pants escape you as you simply lay motionless, eyes trained fixedly on the ceiling of your melancholy prison. You shakily bring your other hand up to wipe away the tears that have forged new paths for themselves on your cheeks and down to your pillowcase. I love you. You’ll always be my girl.

This world is only gonna break your heart. How are you supposed to live without him? Nobody loves no one. Chris Isaak needs to shut up.

[lokis-army-77]

Live from Hawkins

Older!Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Eddie watched as you are stood up on a date and without a second thought, he brings you home.

Warning: 18+. Eddie is in his late 50s to early 60s, reader is 20s to early 30s. p in v, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, pet names, a few spanks, fingering, mention of a partner having died.

A/n: Thank you @munson-blurbs for hyping me up to write this and for thinking of the funny little thing that happens at the end hehe, I love you <3 also my version older!eddie is inspired by @ farmerusedto on tiktok and Instagram.

Masterlist  Part 2

The fun of nightlife had escaped Eddie when his biological clock started making him go to bed at 8:30 p.m. instead of 2 a.m., but tonight was an exception. After an extraordinarily shitty day, he thought a drink or two at his old haunt would cheer him up. It didn’t, not entirely. The whisky he had been nursing tasted like shit and the crowd in the bar left little to be desired, except for you. 

Eddie had clocked you when you entered the establishment at eight on the dot. His eyes raked over the pretty silky red dress that stuck to the curves of your body as you made your way to a tiny circular table with two chairs and sat down. Your head was held high as you watched the front door. 

Ah, a date, He thought. Then he began thinking about all the dates he had been on in the long past years until he had met his wife, and then the lack thereof after her passing twenty-some years ago. He’s never had time to date. Raising kids two kids as a single dad while also being a simi-successful musician turned producer, looking for romance added a whole new thing to worry about so he just didn’t, but now, in his later years of life, with his children grown and moved out, he could afford the chance to indulge. Sadly though, you were apparently taken. 

Even after he had finished his one glass of alcohol, he waited. Watching you as your posture slowly became slouched, you sipped on some fancy beverage, and your head stopped peaking up when the bell to the door chimed as it was opened and closed. You were beautiful and didn’t deserve to be stood up.

When the clock struck nine, Eddie stretched his aching joints and stood from the bar. Sauntering his way over to your tiny table.

“This seat taken?” He asked, hand resting on the back of the chair. 

You lifted your head from your phone startled and shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. You can take it.” Sighing, you look back down at your phone, expecting him to take the lone chair and pull it up to another table. To your surprise, he actually sat down in front of you. “Um… can I help you?” 

“Sorry, I just saw you sitting here by yourself for a while and thought you might like the company. A pretty girl like you in a pretty dress like that shouldn’t be sitting alone in a bar like this, some weirdo could show up.”

You blush, almost as red as your dress. “And how do I know you aren’t the weirdo?” 

“Good question. You don’t.” He laughed.

The deep timber of it had your stomach flipping. His facial features were hidden under a nicely kept beard, full of salt and pepper hairs, more salt than anything else. The shaggy, slightly curly hair atop his head looked the same. He was definitely older than you by a couple of decades, but hey he was nice looking and obviously, the guy you were supposed to be seeing wasn’t coming. What harm could come from flirting with this guy?

“But hey, a bit of mystery can be a good thing, don’t you think?” He asks. 

You can't help the giggle that passes your lips. “Oh, really?” You look him up and down. His outfit was something reminiscent of the eighties, only more subdued. Tight black jeans, motorcycle boots, and an Iron Maiden shirt that had been ripped at the hem. Before he had sat down you even spotted a black and white skull bandana in his back pocket. “I’ve heard that with age comes wisdom. Are you here to enlighten me then?”

He lets out a more hearty laugh this time, his head falling back. Your eyes scan the contours of his neck and watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and down. “I don’t know about wisdom, but I do have a few decades under my belt. Maybe I was the one hoping to learn a little thing or two from such a charming young lady as yourself. 

Your hand lifts to cover your smile and you look away almost bashfully. “Such a smooth talker aren’t you?” 

“As smooth as I can be…” He leans forward, hand resting on the table, fingers laced together. You see the many rings decorating them. The flip in your stomach drops and you clench your thighs together. “Why? Is my charm winning you over?”

“So that’s what you’re trying to do, huh?” You smile. 

“Well, it was either that or all the vintage dad jokes I know.” He smiles back. 

You can feel your mood being lifted from the once sour thing that it was into something more bubbly as you listen to him. “Vintage dad jokes? Sound’s intriguing. Maybe I’ll stick around for now.” 

He nods. “That’s a good choice Sweetheart. Who could resist the allure of outdated humor and a bit of gray hair?” His hand tugs at his beard. 

“You know, I could be out having an adventure with the guy I was supposed to be meeting here instead of chatting with a silver fox.” There is a permanent grin etched into your face as he gasps in faux offense. 

“You wound me, Sugar.  Isn’t it usually the unexpected adventures that turn into something unforgettable?” Eddie couldn’t lie to himself, he was laying it on pretty thick, but it was all in hopes that maybe, just maybe you might come home with him. 

“Well, I do have to admit you are intriguing, maybe I’ll take you up on this adventure.” It was childish, the way your heel-clad foot slid its way past the single, center leg of the table and halfway up the man’s calf. 

When he feels your foot rubbing on him, he has to steel his face. One of his hands slipped from the table and slithered its way down his leg and caught your foot. “What do you say we get out of here?” His hands were so big and his fingers so long that they wrapped with ease around your ankle. The pads of his fingers pressed in gently and you hoped he couldn’t feel how fast your pulse were thumping throughout your body. 

Your mouth suddenly turned dry, words evaded you. All you could do was nod in response. He let go of your foot and stood, reaching out his hand. You take it and he pulls you up as well. “My name’s Eddie by the way.” 

…

The drive to Eddie’s suburban home was filled with chase touches and lingering hands. His large palm warmed your thigh, his fingers dug into the plushness there. You cozied up to him, lips trailing up his neck to his ear where you nibbled on the lobe. 

Eddie groaned as he white-knuckled the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat when you inched a delicate hand into his lap. 

“Now, little girl, don’t be starting something you can’t finish.” He chided. His hand on your thigh moved ever closer to the already high hem of your dress. 

“Little girl?” you whisper into his ear. “I’m not a little girl, old man.”

You feel every bump and jerk of his 1960s Ford pickup as he practically jumps the curb and slams the brakes in his driveway, screeching to a halt. Eddie unfastened his seatbelt and turned to you. His hand immediately found purchase on the back of your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were soft and plump and his beard tickled. You giggled into the kiss but that was cut short when they turned to gasps as soon as Eddie caressed his tongue into your mouth. 

“Eddie…” You moan into him, fingers latched onto his shirt, pulling him into you. 

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He pulled away from the kiss. 

You looked him in his eyes, the street lamp outside aiding in deepening their already dark hue. “Touch me. Need you to touch me.” 

He smirked. “Alright baby, I’ll touch you.” 

Then, he backed away, hooking you from himself and slipping out the door. A pout worked its way onto your features as he walked around and opened your door. Tisking he shook his head. “What’s the frown for sugar?” 

You took his outstretched hand, he was ever the gentleman. “You stopped kissing me.” 

Leaning down he gave you a sloppy peck on the lips. “Well, I can't touch you how you want, Sweetheart, unless we go inside.” He chortled as he guided you to his front door. As soon as the lock was undone and the knob twisted, you pushed the two of you inside. You were hot and worked up and needed something to help the pounding ache that had made itself known between your thighs. 

Inside, you try your best to tug Eddie’s shirt up and over his head but he is quick to catch your hands, pushing you back against the wall and holding them above your head. 

“Not so fast. You’ve got to ask for the things that you want.” 

You shake your head in defiance. You knew where this was going from the way he gripped your wrists. From the way his voice became stricter, more dominant. Need pools in the pit of your stomach. This was what you had been craving, what no other man could make you feel. 

“Please.” Your plea comes out just above a whisper. 

“Tsk, Sweetheart, I think you can do better than that.” Eddie maneuvers both your wrists into the hold of one hand while he lets the fingers of his other run down the open skin of your neck tantalizingly slowly. Goosebumps begin to prickle on your skin as the fingers wander down your chest and over the tops of your breasts, cleavage on display, heaving as you take sharp breaths of air. 

“Please, Eddie.” Voice cracking. “Please, I want you. I want you to touch me, I want to feel you.” 

He groans, hips pressing you to the wall harder. “What a good girl you are.” He captures your lips in another heated kiss.

The night had barely begun and you already felt like you were drowning in him. The scent of menthol cigarettes, whisky, and something almost woody filled your nose and all you could think of was the man pinning you to the wall.

A staggered gasp caught in your throat when Eddie dropped your wrists and heaved you up by the waist. Your legs cinched around him and his arms held you close. “Why don’t we take this to my room? I can put some nice mood music on.” He kissed up your neck as he carried you through his home. 

“Mood music, hum?” You whimper when he sucks on a sensitive spot. “What, gonna play the Temptations greatest hits? Or how about the Chordettes? Don’t they have that song with your name in it?” 

You yelp when his hand smacks your ass. “M’not that old, Sweetheart. It’s more like eighties rock ballads but that’s not what I’m choosing.” The smirk that contoured his lips was wicked. 

“Mmm, and how old are you?” You ask, words muffled by your lips meeting his. 

“Old enough.” Eddie pushes his door open and it hits the wall with a thud. He walks to his bed in the darkness and practically throws you on top of the sheets. He doesn’t follow, instead, he flips the bedside lamp on and the room fills with a soft yellow light. 

His room isn’t what you thought it would be. It's all dark colors, blacks and grays. Three electric guitars hang like decorations on the wall in front of you. A few picture frames are scattered over the dresser to your left, too far to see the images clearly in the dim light. You watch him like a hawk as he walks to that very dresser and turns on a speaker. 

He really wasn’t kidding about the mood music. You think. 

“Get comfortable Sugar… Just got to figure out this damn phone.” You chuckle as you watch him fiddle with the touchscreen and cheer when the music fills the silence. You laugh even louder when Eddie fumbles the phone in his hands and drops it to the floor. “Shit.” He bends down to pick it up and when he does he props it against the mirror of the dresser. 

“Is it okay?” You ask, hand covering the giant smile plastered on your face. 

“It’ll live.” He shakes his head. When the giggles die down, he slowly comes toward you, crawling up the bed. The way his hands travel up your bare legs gives you chills. He pries you open gently, your dress hikes up your thighs, and the wetness of your pussy is on full display. 

“Well, aren’t you a naughty girl… No panties?” He asks, hot breath on the inside of your thigh as he nips at the skin. 

You shake your head as you explain. “No, not wearing a bra either. You can see the outline through the dress” 

He grins a devilish grin and slowly teases his way up your thigh. The hot air from his breath caresses your skin white his beard tickles you. He pushes back your dress a little more before looking you in the eyes. “Ready?”

The whine that comes from you is almost unrecognizable, all desperate and needy when his mouth attaches itself to your pretty cunt. Your hand flies to his head, gripping his silky hair between stiff fingers. 

“Fuck. E-Eddie.” You rasp. He hums the vibrations add to the cacophony of pleasurable feelings between your legs. 

Eddie’s tongue rolls along your folds, wetting every inch of skin. The gentle sucks he performs on your clit pull moan after moan from you. Your back arches and your hips push down into the bed. Eddie’s hands push your thighs farther apart, the plush of them pooling through his spread fingers. 

He loves the feel of you. Loves that he can make you writhe under him with just his tongue. His ego is through the roof, having not been this intimate with someone in years. 

It's been all but a few minutes, to you its been hours, Eddie is expertly working you up up up and to the edge. One hand smoothes down your leg and under his chin. You feel the subtle touches of his fingers as they linger around your cunt. His other hand pushes your leg back more, creating more room. You heave a cry when two fingers breach you, stretching you out at a leisurely pace. 

In and out, in and out, in and out he went, fucking you deeply with those long thick fingers of his, covered in rings. The metal soon became warm as they began to be covered in your slickness and his spit that dribbled down to meet them.

With the way his fingers pushed up into your walls, poking the fire in your belly. The ember that it once was, was not a full-on flame. It was wild and hot and needed something more to feed on. 

“Eddie!” You cried, clamping down around him. Body ridged, ready to let go. 

“That’s right baby, say my fucking name.” He pulled back only to reattach to your clit and pump his fingers tenfold. 

His words were tender to the flame, making it rage out of control. “Eddie!” You cried again, wonton moans following as you feel the fire spreading. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you chant like a prayer. 

He’s greedy as he laps up every ounce of your release, you have to push him away gently, too sensitive for him to keep going but the crooked smirk he gives you as he kisses up your body tells you he wants more. 

Your breathing is rapid as you come down. Your legs feel like jello and you’re hot, super hot. The fire in your veins had rekindled and the dress, conforming to your body, was becoming uncomfortable in the heat. 

Eddie can see the way you tug at the garment and gives it a tug of his own. “I hate to see this little number go but I need to see all of you.” He manhandles you onto your stomach, snatching the tiny red zipper and pulling it down to reveal the soft skin of your back. 

His hands rub into your muscles, thumbs catching on knots and smoothing them out. It was intimate, something you had never experienced in a one-night stand. He removed the tiny straps from your shoulders and kneaded until you were sighing contently into his sheets. Lower and lower he went, tugging the fabric with him and eventually taking it off, throwing it into the abyss. Rough fingers squeezed at the fat of your ass. 

Unknowingly, Eddie had bent down, and as he was massaging you bit down playfully on your ass cheek. A weak squeal erupts from your throat. “Eddie, what are you doing?” 

“I can’t help it if you look good enough to eat.” He bites down again and you buck your hips back. A hand quickly smacks down on your ass. “Quit being a brat. First not asking for what you want and now this? What am I going to do with you?”  Condescension drips thickly from his words. 

You wiggle your hips in his grasp. “M’sorry.” 

Another smack. “I’m sorry what?” 

The fire burns brighter with this fuel.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He spanks you a third time. “Try again, baby.”

Your stomach flips. “I’m sorry… Sir.”

He hums in satisfaction. His hands wrap around you and pull you to your knees, ass in the air. With your head buried in the covers, you can only guess what he’s doing by the subtle movements behind you. 

Eddie has taken his shirt off and unzipped his pants. His cock achingly hard and straining against his black boxers. “Gonna fuck this pussy good, baby.” You whimper in response. He shickers, “You like that, Sweetheart? You want my cock in that pretty pussy of yours?” 

“Please,” You mewl, aching to finally have him inside you. The roughness of his hand steadies you as he inches closer. His hard cock on the other hand. He presses it against your folds, the head slipping through easily. You release a shaky breath when he nudges your clit. “Need you inside, please Sir.”

“Gonna give it to you baby,” Eddie replies, pushing into you. His breathing shudders at the warmth surrounding him. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, sucking him in and not letting him go. 

He feels amazing stretching you out. He's bigger than you thought, wider. The tip pushes into your walls as he begins to thrust into you, the most wonderful grunts and growls filling your ears from behind. 

"So fucking tight, Sugar." Eddie fucks into you at a hard brushing pace with stamina you didn't know he had. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there will be visible marks there later but you don't mind. 

You turn your head slightly and look over your shoulder as best you can. Eddie has a wild look in his eye, streaks of gray hair falling into his face. Your eyes catch on the plethora of ink etching his skin. You had seen the ones covering his arms but you couldn't have imagined this. Your mind wandered to what the rest of his body looked like. We're there more pieces yet to be seen or did alabaster skin win out as you go further down his body? The thought of seeing the rest of him has you bouncing your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust with fervor. 

The fire Eddie had lit within you was once again roaring out of control. The way his cock filled you deep has you shaking in delight. 

"More, more, more," you called out to him, fists clamping down onto his sheets so hard it was a wonder you hadn't ripped them. 

“More? Is that what you want?” He patronizes. His right hand moves from your hip and he bends forward, snatching your hair up at the base of your skull. The dull throb that accompanies his tight hold has you wailing. Your stomach flips and flips, pressure building up. You’re going to cum and you tell him as much. 

“Please, keep going Eddie, fuck. Keep going, I’m gonna cum, Sir.” Big blubbery tears have started to streak down your face, once pristine makeup now smeared. 

He pulls on your hair. ‘Don’t cum baby. Wanna watch that pretty face as you cum on my cock.” 

Eddie pulls out of you and it feels like forever until you are flipped onto your back and he inserts himself back inside. The new angle has your legs clamping shut around him and the head of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot which makes you keen into him.

You make eye contact with him, his gaze is feral. He’s looking at you like you’re a buffet laid out for him. His hips rock into you with such force that your body is slowly jerking up the bed. You reach out for him, hands open and close, needing to have him close to you. That fire is still burning within you and it is scorching. 

Eddie leans into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your nails dragging long scratches down his pecks and stomach. He catches one, entwining his fingers with yours and pinning your hand back into the mattress. Another intimate moment that had butterflies erupting alongside your fire. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Wanna cum so bad.” 

He leans down more, pressing a chased kiss on your lips. “Alright Sweet girl, you can cum.” 

When you let go, Eddie can’t help the absolutely hedonistic moan that comes forward. He’s rutting into your constricting cunt like an animal. The look of absolute ecstasy that washes over your face had him fighting off his own release. 

“Where do you want it, Baby? Where do you want my cum?” 

It’s absolutely crazy, the place that comes to mind, but some deep, dark, nefarious place inside you wants it so badly. Craves is. 

Without thinking, brain foggy with a greediness only comparable to the deadly sin itself, you blurt, “Inside.” 

Eddie’s hips stutter and his mind goes blank. Inside? Fuck, She wants it inside. He groans, fighting himself. He shouldn’t but he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. Thoughts of what your pussy would look like leaking his cum have him going ridged, his conscience losing out against a primal need he didn’t know he had. 

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck ah!” He’s a moaning mess when he finally gives in and lets himself cum. 

You can feel his release as a warmth spreads out from your tummy and envelopes you. Eddie falls careful not to let all of his weight squish you. His kisses make you giggle as you try and catch your breath. 

You’re exhausted, warn out in a way you never have been. “Thank you,” you say, kissing him back. He looked at you with soft, round eyes.

“Why are you thanking me, Sweetheart?” 

You sigh, content. “You saved me from a night of wallowing in my self-pity.”

He shakes his head. “Beautiful girl like you deserves to be treated right, that guy’s a bastard.” 

“Tha-” You’re cut off by the loud ringing of his phone, still connected to the speaker.  Eddie cringes at the volume and turns slightly to eye the phone but does not move to get up. It stops ringing a moment after. 

“I think I should get going…” You whisper and give him another kiss. 

“Mmm, you could stay the night. I can take you back to your car tomorrow.” 

You pout at him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Sweetheart, I’m asking you to stay, you aren't imposing on anything.” 

You giggle and go to answer but you are interrupted by his phone ringing again. Eddie says quietly, “What the hell?” before pulling himself out of you. He hesitates a moment, watching as his cum leaks past the puffy, used lips of your cunt, then grabs at his phone. 

‘HARRINGTON’ Is flashing across the screen. 

“What do you want man? I’m in the middle of something.” 

Eddie still has his phone connected to the speaker and the next few sentences make Your smile fall and your face bloom into a heat that could rival the sun. 

“Oh, I know you are. Half the fucking world does you dipshit!” 

“Wow okay Steve, calm down. No need for name-calling.”

“Eddie I swear to god, do you know what you’ve just done?” 

“No…?” Eddie scratches his head, looking at you and shrugging his shoulders. 

“You just fucking broadcasted you having fucking sex LIVE on fucking Facebook!”

[revelboo]

Merry Christmas!Can we get something for Blaster?

Why not. I do like his Batman antenna. Just a note- I imagine the holomatter avatars look perfectly human. So perfect that they unconsciously freak real humans out. You look at them and your brain says, yep, that’s a human, while your subconscious is all animal instinct screaming that it’s not

Shoot Me In The Smile

Blaster x Reader

• Servos drumming on his console in the uncomfortable aftermath of Megstron’s broadcast, Blaster leans back and glances at Optimus. Listening to Ironhide’s belligerent disbelief that any Cybertronian would frag a human, his optics keep catching on the look their leader’s face. Knows that there’s more than a a few humans in the Ark. He’s seen them being carried about by their caretakers like exotic pets. But now he’s wondering about it. About Jazz sneaking out constantly and returning scenting like human. Of Optimus and Prowl both scenting much more strongly of the little organics than the other caretakers. And the almost pained look on Optimus’s face as Ironhide rants. They all have their secrets, he guesses. And he’s going to be late if he doesn’t go now.

• Putting your car in park, you press your forehead against the steering wheel. Count to ten to get yourself together, shut off the engine, and get out with a smile firmly in place. Pulling the awkward case out of the passenger side, you sling the strap over your shoulder and head inside. Spotting the rest of the band setting up, you throw up a hand in greeting and hear your drummer whoop at you. Making your way backstage, you start changing your clothes. Shedding yourself in favor of leather and glitter. Lining your eyes and painting your face until a stranger stares back at you. Someone who’s not timid, not terrified of crowds and overwhelmed by the noise and heat of the spotlights. The version of you that people actually like and you despise. “You should wear the wig tonight. They love it.” Turning, you smile weakly at your lead bassist, but oblige him. And it really is a stranger staring back now. All of you erased and gone.

• “Again?” Pausing at the door of his habsuite, he glances at Eject as the cassette frowns up at him in obvious disapproval. Because he has no idea how to explain the obsession. He’d found you on a local station, surfing the airwaves out of boredom. And realizing you were a local, that the bar you played out of was so close? He hadn’t been able to resist. Using his holomatter avatar to slip inside just to hear you play. Something about the dissonance in your music had called to him, wedging in his spark and his processor. Music almost frantic, pure rock and roll, but your vocals, ranging from sweet to haunting, are what had snagged him. “I won’t be out late,” he says as Eject vents and exchanges a look with Rewind, worrying about him.

• Lingering just off stage as your heart races, you study the see of faces milling about. And realize you’re looking for your guy. The one whose expression never changes, who just stares at you the whole time you sing making an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You almost swear he doesn’t blink. That intense focus of his is unnerving. Fascinating and a little frightening. You can’t tell if he has a crush on you or if he’s deciding where to hide your body. As the lights dim, you blow out a shaky breath and move onto the stage with your band mates. Hand lifting to wave as you smile even though you’re shaking and can’t hardly breathe. This should get easier, right? Except it never does.

• Hiding in the woods outside the bar, he transforms into his alt mode so if he’s discovered while his attention is divided, all a human will see is a boombox, feeling the pull as he mass shifts down past what would be possible for a normal Cybertronian. Draining his reserves every time. Shivering slightly, he focuses on the avatar and it glitches into existence. There’s an errant thought as he walks to the bar. What do you think of his avatar? Do you like it? Generating an ID to show the human at the door, he makes his way inside, focusing to stay solid as he works his way to the front of the crowd. It wouldn’t do for someone to accidentally pass an arm through him and start screaming. And then there you are, guitar in hand, eyes closed as the lights dim and the spotlights bathe the stage in ruddy light. Hands shifting on the strings, your eyes open and unerringly find him as the music swells and you sing just for him. The crowd gone until it’s only you two.

They’re not patient at all

[anjeliquesworld]

Thaddeus x reader

Note: yes,I love Thaddeus 😭

I tried to highlight Thaddeus abandonment issues and his dark side so here's the final version,I hope you enjoy it 💋

Cw: obsession, stalking, thriller, manipulation, abandonment issues

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Twisted Love

The moon lies high in the sky, full of stars, illuminating the empty streets of Kowloon Hell with its tender light, where darkness reigns and the nights seem endless.

Lying on the edge of the main rooftop:

Thaddeus.

His head full of thoughts.

~HIS POV:

Loneliness isn't just a horrible feeling; it's a companion that doesn't leave. My mind replays my past, each abandonment reminding me of how fragile I truly am. It's the weight of how easily people I cared about left me, as if I were a burden in their lives. It happened many times before—people have come and gone, and each departure left a scar deeper than the last.

"Ah, little bunny," I say, closing my eyes as I visualize your pretty face.

Your existence haunts me. The way you laugh when I make a stupid joke makes my heart skip a beat. That’s strange because I’ve always been good at keeping my distance, but with you, it's different. I can't stay away from you.

When I feel alone, I remember your small hands touching my face—gentle, soft strokes caressing me. You treat me as if I were someone worthy of your love. That’s why sometimes I’m overprotective: you’re too precious, and I don’t want you to suffer.

It’s funny, isn’t it? I pretend to be the good guy around you... I pretend to be the good friend—when in reality, I want to take you away from everyone. I just want to keep you safe from anyone who could hurt you. I’m the only one who can give you what you need.

You said it yourself the other day as we were walking to the park:

"You're the only one who truly understands me."

The affection in your eyes, that smile—no one ever gave me that. And I told you, playfully, "That's because we're meant to be." You blushed, looking so cute. But I wasn’t joking. We are meant to be. Together. Forever.

Sometimes, when the cold breeze of my domain envelops me, I wonder if this is what I deserve—being abandoned, left to face this cruel world alone. But when those thoughts overwhelm me, you come to mind. You’re the light that chases away the monsters.

I want to be the only one to whom you give your attention, your warmth, your smiles.

What I feel is not love.

No, it’s something darker, deeper.

Something I can’t control, something lurking in the back of my head, a sickening feeling—it’s obsession.

You’re not aware of the way I hide in the shadows to capture a glimpse of you. You don’t know how many times I’ve climbed up to your room to watch you sleep... so peaceful and innocent.

Too innocent for this world. Too innocent for me.

You’re too pure to be with someone as dark and twisted as me, but I am a selfish man. I have no intention of letting you go, little bunny.

My heart wouldn’t bear the sight of you in the arms of another man.

Before meeting you, it felt like I was invisible to everyone... a shadow fading into the background. Just one step away from being forgotten. But you, with your kindness, taught me that even I matter.

Sometimes I wonder if you feel it—if you feel my twisted love for you. When you look at me, I see it in those pleading, soft eyes of yours.

You can’t deny it, little one. You’re attracted to me, I know you are. You’re just too afraid to admit it.

But don’t worry. I’ll keep playing the charming prince for now. After all, I’m good at it.

"You're so cute when you blush, little bunny."

I chuckle, teasing you. "I'm sorry for teasing you... but I can't help it. It's just too fun."

We'll keep playing the cat and mouse as long as you want. I don’t mind.

At least I get to stay close to you.

Sooner or later, you will succumb to your desires.

You will come to me.

You have to.

You need me as much as I need you.

And I’ll be more than happy to satisfy you, my little bunny.

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.

.

[zigrethsnotebook]

HBU a Bill Cipher x reader about a reader who really likes being possessed by Bill Cipher so frequently is possessed by him

Inside you

Bill x Reader

words: 1,381

tags: sfw, whatever Bill has going on

a/n: didn’t know if you wanted this to be cute or not, might make a nsfw version one day if i feel like it

You were Ford's assistant, working with him and Fiddleford on the interdimensional portal. Even after the incident occurred and Fiddleford left the project, you and Ford pressed on.

Although, you weren't really in it for the portal or the science or whatever. You were way more interested in this muse of his. Bill Cipher. A triangle shaped entity, who had the ability to enter someone's mind if they agreed to it. Who could also haunt your dreams if you didn’t.

He didn’t have to haunt your dreams though, he was already a part of them. Even though seeing Ford with yellow eyes and no self-preservation instincts was a little scary, you couldn't help but imagine how nice it must feel to have Bill in your mind.

Just for once you wanted to lean back and let someone else do the work for you. The work being moving your body from room to room and so on.

One day, when he was in control of Ford's body, you breached the subject to him. "Ford doesn't like you running around in his body, you know that, right?" Bill just laughed in a garbled version of Ford's voice.

"Of course I know! That's part of the fun." You hummed. "But wouldn't it be more fun to actually share a body? With someone who won't resist? And if it's tormenting Ford you're after, think of what it would do to him to see someone else under your control."

Bill narrowed Ford's eyes at you, stepping closer. He was intrigued. "What are you suggesting?" You smirked at him. "A deal. You get to take my body for a spin... whenever. The only condition is that I don't want you to break my bones or leave me with an open wound or something."

He turned Ford's head, suspicion on their face. "And what exactly are you getting out of this?" You smiled and sighed dramatically. "To relax! I get to take some time off from having to work this meat prison." Bill laughed loudly.

"You're either crazy or the sanest human I've ever met. Either way, you got yourself a deal." Bill held Ford's hand out to you, a small blue flame surrounding it. You gladly took it and suddenly felt like you were falling, even though you didn’t move from your spot on the ground at all.

You were still holding Ford's hand as he sank in on himself, raising his other hand to his head. Meanwhile, you felt something change. A new presence in your own mind. "Let's see if I can make you regret this."

Ford's eyes raised up to your hands and then up to your face, terror spreading on his face. "Bill. What have you-" You interrupted him. "He hasn't done anything yet. So don't worry about it. Let's get back to work."

Ford eyed you suspiciously. It was your voice, your eyes weren't yellow... there was no sign of Bill being in control of your body. But he was gone from his own mind and that unsettled Ford greatly.

While Ford and you continued to work away at the portal, Bill was making himself comfortable in your mind, snooping around your memories and getting a picture of who you are as a person.

When he came across the section of your mind that held your dreams and he found himself in there, making you laugh or holding your hand gently... well, if he was human then he surely would have blushed at that. But he wasn't. And he certainly didn’t care about human emotions. Gross.

Eventually, you and Ford decided that you were done for the day (it was long past midnight) and started to pack up. Bill pulled you from the steering wheel, taking over your body. "Sixer." Ford looked up at him in horror.

"So you are inside them!" Bill waved him off. "Yeahyeahyeah, big surprise. Whatever. Where did you find this person? Their mind is... so clean and orderly. But their dreams..." His/Your voice trailed off, not actually wanting to tell Ford about your dreams. "We went to university together. Same as with Fiddleford." Bill nodded absentmindedly.

While Bill was hanging out with Ford, you laid back, enjoying your break. You quickly tuned their conversation out and instead took a stroll through your mind. It was a funny way of perceiving your own thoughts. Basically being able to walk in on them like they were little rooms scattered around your mind.

You got lost in your own mind but eventually were pulled back into reality as Bill took a step back. You found yourself in your bed, in your pyjamas. You didn’t even feel hungry.

The only thing that was a little off was the dull pain in your shoulder and knee. It felt like you had fallen down a flight of stairs. Bill had probably decided it was faster than to walk them. You ignored the pain and went to sleep.

The following days were much of the same: Working on the portal with Ford, occasionally letting Bill take charge to correct Ford on some equations or whatever. On your way out of the lab Bill would usually take over, taking your body for a spin.

Usually, you watched him do it, just see what he was up to. You saw him fling your body off of whatever ledge he could find that wouldn't harm your body too seriously. The deal you made clearly stated that he wasn't allowed to break your bones.

But it didn’t forbid him to get you a tattoo. It was simple enough. A heart with an arrow through it that just read "Bill", effectively claiming you as his. You didn’t mind though. Something about this triangle made you want his attention.

The fact that he went out of his way to brand you as his made you feel kind of special. Who else could say that about themselves? Well, Ford could, but you didn’t know that and Ford had no intention of telling you about it.

After a couple weeks of this, Bill got a little irritated with you. Inside your head, he sparked up a conversation. "Why doesn't this bother you? I actively harm you, your relationship with Ford and everyone around you. I branded you. What more will it take to get you upset?"

You laughed at him. "Shouldn’t you know? I thought you could read minds - what's stopping you?" Bill frowned, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Nothing! I looked! As far as I can tell you have never thought one single bad thing about me. That's nuts!"

You waved at him dismissively. "It's not. If you truly knew what it was like to be human you'd get it." Bill shook his head and floated closer to you, locking eyes. "Nuh-uh. Ford doesn't get it either. He's human, too!" You clicked your tongue. "Yeah, but he's also a giant baby."

Bill stared at you, not believing what he's hearing. He sighed and rubbed his eyebrow. Or his equivalent to an eyebrow anyway.

"There is something interesting I did find in your mind though." You just raised an eyebrow at him. "Why are you dreaming about you and me doing... coupley things together? From what Ford explained to me about human relationships, that's just gross."

You blushed at being called out like that but stood your ground. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it." A beat of silence passed. Then Bill floated closer to you, his stare intense. "Kiss me then." You stared at him, shock written all over your face.

The problem was, you hadn't quite figured that part out yet. What, with him having no mouth and all. However, as he said that, something happened. Without your doing, a few doors to different thoughts flew open and things that looked like pieces of film tape floated out of them, surrounding you both.

They showed different ways you had fantasized about kissing that stupid triangle. As you realized what you saw you blushed even more, hiding your face in your hands.

Bill looked around you both and then back to you. Now this was something. This was amusing. Finally, he had found something to torment you with. Your own attraction to the triangle. Now the fun could begin.

[ghsface]

I knew it, i know you - Matt Sturniolo

Sumary: You return to a place in the past, where memories and guilt haunt you as you find your ex, facing what you could never let go of.

Warnings: angst, break up, insecurities (on the part of the protagonist) guilt, no happy ending, I think that's all.

A/n: Merry Christmas super late, I've been really inactive so sorry about that but I'm back now yayy, I wrote a second part of this fic if you can call it that idk, I wasn't sure about posting this version because I wrote a happy ending in the other version, I'll probably post both as an alternate ending so enjoy this and happy holidays!!!<3

𝜗𝜚 Part one , alternative ending

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

The cold night wind hit you as you left the restaurant, sending a chill down your spine that had nothing to do with the weather. You walked down the cobblestone streets of the city that was once your refuge, your home, but now felt alien. With every step you took, you could hear the echo of your own thoughts, and the words you never said to Matt repeated in your mind like a mantra of regret.

You had decided to leave him, decided that it was best for both of you to be apart, but that decision hadn't brought the peace you'd hoped for. All it had accomplished was filling your life with awkward silences, lonely nights, and memories that seemed to torment you more with each passing day.

The night was calm, but your emotions were a whirlwind. Every corner you turned reminded you of a moment with him. There was the cafe where he knelt in the snow to tie his shoe while you laughed nonstop. There was the park where you shared your first kiss, when Matt had taken you by surprise and made you feel like the whole world had stopped for an instant.

The city lights flickered above you, and cars whizzed by, but all you could feel was the weight of his gaze on the restaurant, the way his eyes had pierced you, as if they could see every single regret you carried in your chest.

When you finally stopped, you were facing the river. The water reflected the city lights, creating a colorful spectacle you couldn’t enjoy. You just stared at your reflection, searching for answers in a version of yourself you no longer recognized.

“Why?” you wondered out loud, even though you knew there would be no answer. The reason had always been the same: fear. Fear of being happy, fear of not being enough, fear of Matt realizing he loved you more than you could love yourself.

You didn't know how long you were there, lost in your thoughts, until you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"I didn't think I'd find you here."

You turned around, and there he was. Matt. With his hands in his pockets, his hair ruffled by the wind, and that look that had always left you speechless.

"Matt..." you murmured, as if his name were a confession.

He took a step towards you, but kept his distance, as if he was afraid that getting closer might break what little remained between you.

"Why did you leave so quickly?" he asked, his voice calm but full of that intensity he'd always had.

You wanted to answer, but the words stuck in your throat. How to explain something that you yourself couldn't understand?

"I didn't want to interrupt..." you started, but he shook his head before you could finish.

"Don't lie. We're not at that point anymore, right?"

His honesty hit you like a bucket of cold water. He had always had that ability to see right through you, to decipher the emotions you didn't even know you felt.

“I didn’t want to make this harder for you,” you finally admitted, shifting your gaze back to the river.

“Make what harder?” he asked, taking a step closer. “See you? Talk to you? Because, believe me, nothing can be harder than the last few months without you.”

His confession made the air feel heavier. You looked up at him, and his eyes were filled with pain, but also something else: hope.

“Matt, I…” You tried to speak, but he cut you off.

“No, let me speak this time.” His voice shook slightly, but there was a firmness to it that you couldn’t ignore. “I don’t know what happened, I don’t know why you walked away, but I know that I haven’t stopped loving you for a second.”

The words hit you with a force you didn’t expect. Tears filled your eyes, and for a moment, all you wanted was to run to him and tell him you were sorry, that you loved him, that you never stopped.

But the fear was still there, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

“Matt, I can’t…” you murmured, and you watched as the glimmer of hope in his eyes slowly faded.

He nodded, taking a step back, as if he understood there was nothing more to say.

“It’s okay.” His voice was soft, but the sadness was evident. “I just wanted you to know.”

And with those words, he turned and began to walk, leaving you alone once again, with the sound of the river and the echo of what could have been.

You watched him walk away, and a part of you wanted to run after him, to scream his name and ask for another chance. But your feet remained planted on the ground, unable to move.

When you finally turned around and started walking in the opposite direction, you felt like you were carrying with you not only the weight of your own regrets, but also that of his love, a love you never knew how to accept, but one you would always carry with you.

And as you walked away, the city seemed darker, emptier, as if it knew that, this time, there would be no turning back.

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly, and feel free to leave a request ✮

Tags... @matthewsroses @sophand4n4 @strnilolover @lolastrniolo @marrykisskilled @sweetshuga

[moon-buggg]

haunted house Drabble idea: y/n’s voice cracks in a funny way while they’re delivering the performance of their life

Honestly was a little hard for me to think of a funny version of this lol, I just think a good voice crack can lend so much to a scared performance. also I had no idea how to write out a voice crack-

The pair couldn't help but watch, limbs frozen in shock and fear. The shape surged through the air. No. The hand. A scream. A jump. The hand snapped shut like a bear trap around the last in their group.

"G-ugh-O!" the veritable stranger shouts, "RUN!"

No need to tell them twice.

The pair have already started sprinting for the exit as their companion is dragged further within the circus. The stranger screams. The pair do not look back.

"Really scared you," the voice of your attacker crackles with quiet static as he pulls you into a hidden, employees only door, "didn't we?"

"What? Come on," you brush him off. "You always grab me at that door, I knew you were there." The last thing you need is for him to grow an even bigger head.

Moon leans in, crowding your face with his oversized grin. He still hasn't let you go. "Can't lie to us," he says. "We heard you."

"What, scream?" you wiggle just a bit, hoping the motion is enough to remind him to let you go. "They pay me to do that, dude."

"Nuh-uh," he's teasing you. What an ass. "We heard it in 'go'. We scared you." Moon did not often emote through his voice, so the small raise in his voice, just barely higher, was a dead give away to just how thrilled he was at the small fault in your shout. Something tells you you won't be living this down for a good long while.

"My throat is sore," you say, starting to push just at little at his grasping fingers. "From all the screaming I'm paid to do."

He laughs, a crackling, drawn out chuckle, before finally releasing you. "If it makes you feel better."

You don't have time to stay and argue, you have limited time to get to Sun and get prepared for the big finale. All you can really do is scrunch your face and stick your tongue out before running through the hidden halls to to your next scene.

You're far too late, if Sun's laughter and grabbing hands at your arrival were anything to go by.

"Ooohhh!! I can't believe Moon got you first!" you're all but lifted off the ground. "I'll just have to try twice as hard now!!" Moon had obviously sent or recording- or something- out to Sun of your little voice crack. Great. Just what you wanted.

"Sun-" he drops you suddenly, face pushing in close, "your performance?" You reach past him to grab the needed blood packs. Getting them set up always kind of sucks and you really didn't have time for banter.

"Oooh fine!" he says, slinking out of your space as you start to tape down the blood bags. "But don't sell yourself short, starlight. It's your performance too!"

[sugar-plum-writer]

You Are Ravishing

Theme: Comfort Fic [Body insecurity]; One-Shot Paring: Sukuna x Fem!Reader; established relationship; Fluff; Slight NSFW A/n: A comfort fic of Sukuna comforting fukcing you to show you how beautiful you truly are

"You are divine darling"

[To everyone going through these problems- you are not alone, you are a beautiful person, okay? It is hard when the past habits suddenly come back to haunt you; when you look in the mirror and suddenly you feel like you are the ugliest person on Earth. It is hard, just know- as long as you are healthy nothing else matters. You just be the best version of you <3]

SUKUNA

He was annoyed, well he was annoyed by the littlest things, but today he was even more annoyed the more he looked at you. Jaw clenched tight; arms crossed as he looked at you laughing.

Your laughs were music to his ears, but your laughs right now were fake which he despised

He was never the type to hide his feelings and seeing the one he loved so much hide her feelings from him, annoyed him to his core.

“Y/n what is wrong?”, sharply he looked at you with an annoyed expression

“Wh-What do you mean what is wrong?”, you laughed, “Nothing is wrong Sukuna”

“Fake”

“Fake? What do you mean?”, shocked your eyes widened

“Your laugh right now, again it was fake”, pulling you by the wrists- eyes locked on yours

“I can see it” Pinning you against the wall he leaned in

“Do I look like a fool to you?”

“No-No never!? I said everything is fine!”

“Y/n.”, with a sharp voice his grip on you tightened- nails digging into your wrists

“Either you tell me what is wrong-”

“Or”

“I will make you tell me what is wrong”

His gaze was unwavering- as if he could look through all the lies you gave, cutting them all down with ease, why was he like this? How was he so easily able to cut through all your lies and dig his hands into your heart and soul? Read you so well- It was shocking

He knew you better than you did yourself

“I-“, biting your lips you looked into his eyes full of tears

“You-you are so mean!”, all the tears spilled that you had so desperately tried to control- tried so hard to maintain this facade- all crumbled down breaking you

“Y/n” Confused he loosened his grasp- wiping the tears away instantly

“Why are you crying?”

“I-“, sobbing through your tears you spoke

“I hate myself; I hate myself so much, I hate everything about me”

“What- how did you even reach such a conclusion pet?”, bringing you close he just hugged you; you were so fragile right now- as if just one touch could shatter you into pieces

“Who said this to you? I will kill them”

“Wh-no”, gasping you looked at him

“I am serious, anything that annoys you- annoys me, and whatever annoys me dies, darling”

“Who is it?”

His eyes were devoid of mercy, he did not care who died, all he cared about was your happiness and his happiness. Caressing your hair he smirked- it was a chilling one, you knew he was not joking- if you actually asked him to kill someone, he would really kill them.

Hell, he would even kill their relatives as a bonus just for you.

It was terrifying the amount of power he had. But what was even scarier even for him, though he would not admit it- was the amount of power you had over him.

A single tear from your eyes- and whoever made those tears fall would drop dead

Mercilessly

“No-No one needs to die…the past is the past…” Signing you hugged him back burying your face in his chest

“I just- I cannot love myself- I feel so ugly”, you whispered

“My face, my body- I am so ugly, I cannot even look at myself-”, clenching his robes tightly, your voice cracked as more tears fell

“Without wanting to rip myself to shreds”

“Ugly? Where?” lifting your chin, he kissed you

“You are ravishing y/n”, biting your lips he kissed you even deeper, caressing your waist- and squeezing your hips

“And the only thing that is ugly in my eyes-” Smirking with a snap of his fingers your clothes were in tatters

“Is that fabric covering that body of yours”, taking of his robes he towered over you

"Clothes are worthless, just be naked for me", kiss lips hooked to yours again- kissing your tears away

“Darling you are beautiful, ravishing- let me show you how ravishing you truly are and remove those worthless doubts”

Link to Masterlist!

[janeyseymour]

Mamma Mia

a song fic based on the song Mamma Mia by ABBA with my own version of the song attached :)

WC: ~1.45k

I’ve been cheated by you since I don’t know when. So I made up my mind, it must come to end.

Melissa Schemmenti has been in your life for quite some time. And now looking back on everything, she’s been cheating you out of a lot of things. So, you’ve made up your mind: you have to cut her off.

“Mel, I just can’t do this anymore!” you tell her, tears in your eyes.

“What do you mean you can’t do it anymore! You’ve cheated me out of so much, and it’s been going on since… since I don’t know when. So, I made up my mind… we have to split.”

“You always say that,” she rolls her eyes.

“But… I mean it this time,” you whisper. “Please leave.”

Look at me now, will I ever learn? I don’t know how, but I suddenly lose control. There’s a fire within my soul.

It’s been a few weeks now, and you’re just… brokenhearted. You miss everything about her. Yes, she’s hurt you in the past, but nothing matters when she makes you happy. 

After a few drinks, the liquid courage takes over, and you lose control. You have to text her. There’s just a fire within your soul that is begging you to go back to the fiery redhead that haunts your dreams. She answers, telling you to be over at her place as soon as you can. She sends you a picture of herself, a glass of wine in hand as she waits for you.

Just one look and I can hear a bell ring. One more look and I forget everything.

You glance at the picture, and the alarms are going off in your head about how this is a bad idea- how you shouldn’t go back to her. Not after everything she’s put you through and after everything that you’ve been denied of because of her.

But then you look at the picture again, and… all of those thoughts go out the window. You slip on your shoes and start your walk. You’re not sober enough to drive. 

Mamma mia, here I go again. My, my, how can I resist you? Mamma mia, does it show again? My, my, just how much I’ve missed you. 

As you walk, you start to sober up, and think to yourself. Here you go again, to fall into the arms of the woman who has left you hurting so many times before. You almost turn around, but then she sends you another picture, asking where you are. You don’t know how to resist that.

When you knock on her door, she opens it almost immediately. Her lips are on yours almost instantly, and you can taste the cherry wine that she’s been drinking. You soak it in as much as you can before pulling apart.

Your eyes give you away, and you know it’s showing just how much you’ve missed her. 

You spend that night with Melissa in her bed.

Yes, I’ve been brokenhearted, blue since the day we parted. Why, why, did I ever let you go? Mamma mia, now I really know- my, my, I could never let you go. 

The next morning, you wake up naked in the redhead’s bed and in her arms, content. You’re no longer heartbroken and upset. You wake up feeling much better than you were the previous night when all you had done was wish she was sitting next to you. And you know you could never let go over her. Not again. You know that you’re right where you’re supposed to be. But the two of you both know that you definitely need to talk about this whole on and off game that you’ve been playing lately. It’s just not healthy.

So, you settle on her couch once she’s made breakfast and poured coffee.

I’ve been angry and sad about things that you do.

“I just… you know how I feel when you flirt with other people to get free things,” you whisper. “And I’ve told you that.”

“Y/N, I’m a teacher. I have to do what I have to do to get by, and if flirting with the idiot vending machine man is what I have to do, I’ll do it.”

“And you know how I feel when you brush off the idea of settling down and getting married.”

“And I’ve told you before that we can settle down, but I ain’t getting married again, hun,” Melissa tells you as she takes a bite of her bacon. “It’s just not in the cards for me.”

“It doesn’t matter to you that that’s not what I want?”

“I already compromised by telling you that we could move in together and all that shit-”

“See, right there. All that shit,” you bite out. “It’s not shit to me. I love you, and I don’t know why you act like our love is some bullshit. It hurts.”

“I’m sorry, hun. I’ll try to be more considerate of your feelings,” she promises as she lays a gentle hand over yours.

It’s a promise that you’ve heard before, and while you doubt she’ll keep word… one can dream.

I can’t count all the times that I’ve told you we’re through. And when you go, when you slam the door. I think you know that you won’t be away too long. You know that I’m not that strong.

You haven’t even been dating again for another week before you’re kicking her out of your place. You shout at her that this is the last time she’ll hear from you. But as she slams the door, you hear her grumble something.

“You and I both know that you’re not strong enough to stay away from me for too long.”

Just one look and I can hear a bell ring. One more look and I forget everything.

You’re out at the bars with your friend when you see her walk in, red hair curled beautifully and her outfit perfectly accentuating the curves that she was gifted.

“Stop,” your best friend scolds you when she follows your gaze. “She’s the whole reason we’re out tonight in the first place- to forget about her.”

You shake your head to get out of the trance Melissa has you in. But as much as you try, she always pulls you back in. You take one more look at her, and you forget it all- you know she’ll end up at your place once your friend has decided that she’s had enough and heads home for the night. That, or you’ll end up pinned to her bed like you usually do on nights where you reconcile.

Mamma mia, here I go again. My, my, how can I resist you? Mamma Mia, does it show again? My, my, just how much I’ve missed you?

The night continues on, you and your friend dancing and singing your hearts out, until she’s decided that she’s had enough for the night. She calls an Uber, and she climbs into it as she gives you her parting words.

“I swear to God, Y/N, do not end up back in bed with Melissa tonight,” she slurs out as she closes the door.

You roll your eyes and head back into the bar. The redhead is waiting at the door for you- of course she is.

Drunk enough to not care, but sober enough to know what you’re doing, you kiss her.

“Can’t resist me?” Melissa teases.

You roll your eyes and kiss her again as you start to dance on her. “What do you think?”

“I think you missed me,” she smirks. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“I think you should buy me a drink,” you smile at her cheekily.

“As long as you come home with me tonight.”

You do. 

Yes, I’ve been brokenhearted, blue since the day we parted. Why, why, did I ever let you go? Mamma mia, now I really know. My, my, I could never let you go.

You wake up in her arms again, and you know that while you were supposed to be at the bar mending your broken heart last night, you made the decision to come back to her. As she’s asleep next to you, holding onto you tightly, you wonder again why you ever let her go.

And you know that for as many times as this vicious cycle of being in an on again, off again relationship will continue, you could never let her go.

You just hope that one day, the two of you get your shit together and you stay together. It probably won’t happen, but you can hope and dream.