#and I could clearly see that it was just going to be incredibly painful and be a disaster

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Touch Starved

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader Summary: This was inspired by a tweet and his gif I saw on twitter. You accidentally walk in on Bucky touching himself when he thinks he is alone. Turns out he is thinking about you. A/N: Unbeta'ed, so sorry for the mistakes! Warnings: NSFW but not that explicit. Word count: 1,379 words

The team had made a last minute decision to go out, but you weren’t in the mood to join them. It has been quite a while since you’d had some time to yourself, and you happily retreated to your quarters with a bag full of late-night snacks in tow.

The thought of having the living area all to yourself was oddly comforting. There was something incredibly liberating about walking through the quiet corridors alone. After carefully stashing your snacks in the kitchen, you glanced around the hallway to ensure no one was around. Satisfied that the coast was clear, you stepped out of your room wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of fluffy socks.

The polished floors gleamed under the fluorescent lights and begged you to indulge in one of your guilty pleasures: dancing and sliding across the freshly waxed surface. You were mid-slide, grinning to yourself like the Cheshire cat, when an unexpected groan pierced the silence.

The sound startled you, nearly making you lose your balance as you skidded to a stop. You scanned the corridor, heart pounding in our ears, as you tried to pin point the source of the noise.

You were met with silence for a few moments. Just as you had convinced yourself that your imagination was getting the best of you, you heard it again. Only this time, it was unmistakable— it sounded like your name.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of a crack in one of the doors. Immediately, you knew that it was the source of the sound. Approaching slowly, you realized that it was Bucky’s room.

Shit! You thought back to earlier, replaying the moment you watched the others leave. Had Bucky gone with them? You didn’t remember seeing him head out. Could he still be here?

A soft, almost pained whimper reached your ears, followed again by your name.

Without hesitation, you pushed open the door, a growing sense of dread and concern rising inside you. Bucky often had nightmares— you’d heard his anguished cries echoing in the dead of night. You didn’t want to let him suffer for a minute longer than necessary— not if you could help it.

But as you silently pushed open the door, the sight before you stopped you in your tracks, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the super soldier, sprawled out on the bed. He was shirtless. You could see the muscles in his abdomen rippling like waves as he writhed around on the mattress.

Another muffled groan escaped him and your eyes were drawn to the pillow he had clamped over his face. It would have been an alarming image, if it wasn’t for the fact that his pants were undone and his flesh hand was wrapped firmly around his cock.

You froze. Every single coherent thought vanished from your head in an instant. You stood in the doorway, mouth parted in silent shock as a flush of heat rushed to your face as your brain scrambled to process what you were seeing.

This is not what you had expected. At all.

Your instincts told you to turn around, to leave and grant him the privacy he so clearly thought he had. But for some reason, your feet refused to move. You stayed rooted to the spot as a cocktail of emotions swirled inside you— shock, embarrassment and lastly desire.

Only when he groaned your name again, the sound muffled by the pillow but clear enough to send a shiver down your spine and a flood of heat between your legs. Your heart raced as you realized that he wasn’t just lost in the moment— he was lost in the thought of you.

Your instincts finally kicked in, belatedly propelling you to turn on your heels and leave as quickly and quietly as possible. But your socks betrayed you, letting out a squeak against the polished floor.

Bucky’s movements stilled.

“Shit,” you heard him mutter under his breath, his voice low and filled with mortification. There was a rustle of sheets and before you could fully escape, his voice called out.

“Who’s there?” His words came out sharp and panicked.

You came to a halt outside his room, cursing your hesitation. You glanced around the corner just in time to see him sit up, clutching the tiny pillow against his lap, as though it could shield him from the situation he had found himself in. HIs face was flushed, his chest heaved and his wide blue eyes locked onto yours.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice cracking, overwhelmed by shame. He rubbed at the back of his neck with his vibranium hand. “I… I didn’t know anyone was—”

“I’m so sorry!” you blurted out. “I—I mean to, I shouldn’t have—” Words failed you, and you swiftly darted out into the hallway, hiding around the edge of the doorway.

But you didn’t go far.

Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest and for some reason, your legs felt like lead, stopping you from running away. You pressed your back against the wall, taking a shaky inhale to calm your thundering heart and trying to process what had just happened.

You needed to keep walking. You should be retreating to your room where you could pretend none of this ever happened. You should. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Something was pulling at your strings, master of puppetry controlling your actions, refusing to let you leave. It was desire. The way he had said your name— with so much longing— played in your mind on a loop. You hadn’t missed the way his body moved, the vulnerability he’d displayed on his flushed face. And then there was the way his eyes had widened with shock when he realized it was you.

Before you could truly think about your actions, your feet had started carrying you back to the door. You hesitated for a second but the pull inside you— the part of you that craved him— propelled you forwards.

You stepped back inside.

His face was crimson, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Was it anger? Embarrassment? Or… something else entirely?

You couldn’t decipher the expression on his face but the tension in the room weighed down on both of you.

Wordlessly, you approached him, sitting down on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight, and he immediately curled in on himself, clutching the pillow tighter to his chest. His body was angled away from you, his gaze fixed on the wall, refusing to meet yours.

You shuffled closer, moving carefully, unsure if he wanted you to stay or to leave. He didn’t move, he didn’t speak, he didn’t give you any indication that he was aware of your presence. But you could feel the tension radiating from him like a forcefield. His knuckles were white against the fabric of the pillow, and he sat so rigidly it was as if his body didn’t know how to relax anymore.

“Bucky,” you whispered softly, your voice filled with kindness and affection.

Still, he didn’t respond. He seemed paralyzed, trapped in this moment of shame and uncertainty.

Slowly, you reached out, unable to control the tremble of your hand as you cradled his cheek. He flinched at first, his body stiffening, but he didn’t pull away. You kept your touch gentle but deliberate, and when he didn’t resist, you applied the lightest pressure to turn his head toward you.

At long last, his eyes met yours— his pupils dilated, unfocused and vulnerable.

You held his gaze, letting the air between you grow heavy with meaning. Your thumb brushed fondly against the stubble on his jaw, and you leaned in slowly, deliberately, giving him every chance to pull away.

He didn’t.

When your lips first met his, they moved slowly, with tenderness, almost searching. You gave him the opportunity to object… he didn’t. And suddenly the heat building inside you made it impossible for you to hold back. You deepened the kiss— conveying your longing— leaving no room for doubt, no room for misinterpretation. You wanted him.

And as his lips began to respond to yours, the pillow slipped from his grasp, forgotten as he surrendered to the intensity of your connection.

[witherby]

do you think that the batfam has different ways of explaining their bruises/injuries they get from crimefighting to an observant mouse? 👼👼👼

--🎆

Fantastic question! I think growing up in Wayne Manor would make it exceptionally difficult to hide the vigilantism from you. They could 100% do it, but it would take about a thousand times more effort concealing it from you than the general public, so I don't think they would.

You're very young when you start really piecing it together, though, so they're gonna have to tell you what happened in child-friendly ways.

The Littlest Wayne: Post-Battle Injuries

1. Bruce

"Wha' happen, daddy?"

This man is not a good liar, but he dodges the truth like it's an Olympic sport. Like any public figure worth their salt, he's gonna answer the question without answering the question.

"Well, when Daddy has to go be Batman, sometimes he gets hurt. The boo-boos will go away after a while, and everything is going to be fine. You'll have to hug gently for a few days."

What he doesn't say is that he took a toyota corolla pushing 70 to the ribs and can feel the broken bones shifting and rubbing together like wet chopsticks under his skin, it's fucking nauseating, and he needs to go pass out as soon as he puts you down for a nap.

2. Dick

"Uh-oh, Dinky hurty?"

If Bruce is admired for keeping his cool in the wake of grievous injury, then Dick wrote the fucking book on it. His picture shows up when you google "gaslight gatekeep girlboss." He could lose a limb and convince you it's always been like that with a straight face. You'll never catch his ass lacking.

"Dinky fell down," he says easily, scooping you into his arms, "but he's fine! See? All okay!" His face doesn't even twitch from all his wounds getting aggravated. There is shrapnel embedded in his back from being thrown through a window and tumbling down the roof. The broken-off blade of a knife is jammed up in his thigh. His right hand has lost all feeling in it from blocking a pipe getting swung at him. There are black spots in his vision. He's lost so much blood it's nothing short of divine intervention keeping him conscious.

You'd bet your ass if you need him to go sprint a 10k right now, though, he's lacing up his tennis shoes.

3. Tim

"Timmy, what wrong?"

He's gonna tell you the truth, and he's the only one that'll tell you the truth. He'll just omit the gorey bits because they're not beneficial to you.

"Oh, this? Bad guy got me good with his knife. It hurts a lot so don't touch it... I just said don't touch it...okay fine, go wash your hands first before you touch it."

He didn't like being kept out of the loop as a child, especially a child that had to raise himself, so he tells you about anything and everything you ask. He'll tell you what medical supplies he's grabbing and why. He'll tell you his estimated recovery time. He'll tell you what wounds the others have, if any. He'll let you touch the safe tools, like gauze and bandages and antibiotic ointment. He'll show you how to apply them, too, and then quickly take you to the sink to wash the blood from your hands.

4. Jason

"Jay-Jay ouchies?"

He's the most unintentionally awkward about it. I think being brought back to life in the Lazarus Pit really fucked up his ability to feel pain. The major injuries still sting — gunshots, stabs, broken bones — but bruises and black eyes and sprains fly under the radar very often.

"Uh, no," he shrugs, looking at the myriad of colorful bruising you just pointed out on his arm. "No ouchies." He's not exactly lying, it doesn't hurt, but it is very clearly an injury. This confuses and upsets you often.

5. Damian

"Dami got a booboo?"

He's lying every single time. He's your older brother. He's a dangerous killing machine. His skill and combat prowess are unmatched. He needs you to think he's incredible and amazing and cool.

"Those half-wit simpletons could never dream of landing a hit on me. Any blood on my clothes is simply not mine."

One of the goons actually clipped his side with a bullet and it really, really hurts. His hands are flexing and he's got sweat running down his neck from the pain. He would actually rather die than let you know that, though.

[reignpage]

Finders Keepers

Summary: in which alien!reader crash lands right in front of Gojo and your story with him begins Word Count: 1k (just trialing a new concept so it's a quick opening) Warnings: a little cursing, allusions to experimentation and alien warfare, reader is naked but not in a sexual manner

“I can’t believe aliens actually exist,” Satoru mutters to himself. 

This has been an incredibly wild evening. 

When he stepped out of his apartment to throw the bins out, he hadn’t expected to see a blinding flash of light zoom past him and explode in the parking lot. Thank goodness for his infinity, otherwise he would not have fared as well as the minivan you landed on. 

Yes. 

You.

The woman who came straight from the sky and fell on top of a car, missing him by just two metres.

At first, he thought it was a curse; these things get pretty weird sometimes, after all. But using his Six Eyes, he could tell you were different. Sure, you looked like any other person, with arms and legs and a head. But you had a unique aura to you, positively otherworldly. 

If he was any other kind of man, he would have just left you there and pretended nothing happened — ignorance is bliss and whatnot — but what kind of Honoured One would he be if he didn’t do his duty and helped you out?

So, he slides down the massive crater you made (boy is that going to be a pain for maintenance to clean up) and carefully cradles your naked body in his arms, carefully so as to not touch bits and pieces no gentleman has a business looking at. Why are you naked anyways? 

Sensing people making their way down the stairs to inspect the commotion, he teleports back into his apartment quick as a flash before anyone could think to look through their windows. 

He throws a blanket at you and leaves you on the sofa as he paces the length of his living room and ponders what to do. On one hand, he could call the police and leave it up to them to deal with you. The government would know best about how to deal about falling space women, right? But then, don’t all the sci-fi movies talk about inhumane experimentation, weaponizing alien technology, and Area 51? 

That wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do, at all. 

And on the other hand, he could just take care of you himself. He has the means to, that’s for sure. You really don’t look any different from everyone else — surely, you need the same things he does: food, water, shelter and warmth.

Right?

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone to call his doctor friend, you begin rousing from sleep. Your eyes flutter open and they’re a normal colour, which freaks him out more if he’s going to be perfectly honest. 

“Uh,” Satoru scratches the back of his neck, shuffling on his feet a little, “hey? I’m Gojo Satoru. You can just call me Satoru, though. If you want, or can, I guess.”

You tilt your head, scanning his body, and you open your mouth. What comes out is definitely an alien language. Or maybe he needs to travel more. But he certainly does not comprehend a single thing that you say. 

Clearing his throat, he tries to smile comfortingly. “Okay, so I didn’t understand what you said. Sorry. But uh, do you need anything? Like, do you know where you are? Yeah, you definitely don’t know what I’m saying either, do you?”

You tilt your head again. 

“What is wrong with me? Seriously. What was I thinking bringing you home? You may have fallen from the sky but I’m the one that clearly hit my head. I really am an idiot.”

Glancing around the room, you don’t look any bit as frazzled and panicked as he is. Actually, you’re as cool as a cucumber, and there isn’t a hint of shame or embarrassment on your face when you push yourself off the sofa, blanket sliding down your body. 

“Woah! Woah!”

Satoru presses his hands to his eyes and leaves them there for a second or two before realising that does absolutely nothing and when he pulls them down, he doesn’t flinch when you’re standing before him, inquisitive eyes meeting his. 

His infinity is on and he’s ready to subdue you if you prove to be a threat, but so far, he’s simply letting you reorient yourself, getting used to your surroundings and giving you the opportunity to decide he’s not a bad guy. 

That being said, however, he’s still deciding whether to keep you or not. He doesn’t want you to be poked and prodded — that wouldn’t be a very cool welcome to planet Earth and he doesn’t need you to go around telling your alien friends humans suck, though they do. But he also doesn’t know if that’s the best decision. 

You could be a danger to jujitsu society, to his students, to the world. What if, right at this very moment, you’re leaking deadly radiation? And what if his infinity can’t keep it out? Can’t keep you out?

Gosh, there are so many things that could go wrong. 

It’s entirely possible too that you’re a blood sucking monster intent on wringing him dry for all he’s worth. Maybe you’re not even an alien. Maybe you’re a special kind of curse, the kind that can bypass his Six Eyes, though he’s fairly confident that’s not the case (there’s no one stronger than him, after all). 

What if this is Kenjaku all over again?

Yeah, on second thought, he should definitely call the police. Or Ijichi, or the Prime Minister of Japan, or whoever will believe him when he says there’s a naked, alien lady in his home, and no, he’s not a pervert playing out some sick fantasy.

But just as he’s lifting his phone, you lift your hand the same time he does and cover your eyes. 

Then you say his name in perfect Japanese with a sweet, soft voice, not a hint of hesitation or unsteadiness. You smile, eyes still obscured, and he feels himself mirroring your gleeful expression. 

“That’s right. I’m Satoru. It’s nice to meet you.”

He decides, there and then, to hell with radiation, alien armies, and the deadly risk you pose to everything he knows or cares about. The military, conspiracy theorists, and scientists be damned.

He’s going to keep you. 

[slutzforbueckers]

no. 1 pick—p.b x f!reader

pairing: paige bueckers x dallas wings!fem!reader

warnings: nothing but straight fluff

synopsis: sharing a moment with paige after being drafted.

a/n: i know i don’t really talk about the games and stuff and yes im a new fan but im genuinely so proud of paige and everything she’s accomplished. im so proud of kaitlyn and aubrey, they are so deserving. i really admire paige’s openness about her faith, her dedication, the way she lifts her peers up without thinking twice. she’s genuinely an amazing human being and i pray that she has an incredible journey in this new chapter of her life. also dont mind me using the same pictures from my last post!! i literally could not find pictures from tonight.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

your heart was pounding against your chest, eyes filled with tears that threatened to ruin your makeup. paige had found you almost immediately, as soon as the spotlight was off of her.

"you can't cry." she shook her head, a shake to her voice that let you know she was close to crying herself. she wrapped her arms around you and pulled you into a hug, letting her head fall onto your shoulder.

"you can't tell me what to do." you laughed through the tears and pushed her back slightly so you could see her face. when you looked at her all you could see was a girl who had been through so much but continuously came back from it stronger. you had watched her go through some of the hardest things--injuries that have taken some off the court, being put in the spotlight even when she was going through things-- and you couldn't have been prouder of her. "i'm so proud of you, you're the strongest person i know."

"you're making me cry and i look so good tonight." paige jutted her lip out, her eyes softening as she looked at you, and a few tears rolled down her cheek. she never passed up an opportunity to crack a joke but she was grateful to have you, grateful that you were in her life. she delicately wiped her eyes so she didn't ruin her makeup.

"you do look good." you smiled, hands coming up to cup her face. "number one pick looks good on you."

that made her smile, wide and genuine, and she leaned in to kiss you quickly—just a gentle press of lips that carried so much love behind it. you were both vaguely aware that cameras were flashing, probably capturing every second, but neither of you cared. she was still holding your hand when a voice broke through the moment.

"paige! y/n! mind if we have a word?" a reporter asked gently, stepping up with a camera crew in tow, clearly trying not to intrude too harshly. you both shook your heads and straightened up for the cameras, laughing a bit as you ran your hands through your hair to look presentable for the cameras. the reporter turned to paige first.

"first off, congratulations!" she said, a bright smile on her face. "number one pick, how does that feel?"

paige exhaled slowly, her eyes flicking back to you for just a second before she answered. “it’s surreal,” she said, her voice a mix of nerves and pride. “i’ve worked for this my whole life. been through a lot to get here… and it means everything. i'm just... i'm thankful to my teammates, my parents, coaches, and of course y/n. they've kept me going honestly.”

you ran your hand down her forearm and interlaced your fingers, your eyes on her the entire time.

“and this moment—who’s the first person you wanted to see when it was official?”

she didn’t hesitate. “her,” she said, turning toward you with a soft grin that made your heart flip. “always her.”

the reporter chuckled, clearly loving the moment. “well, we’ve seen the two of you together on the court and off, the media loves your relationship. tell us—how important has she been in your journey to this point?”

paige’s smile shifted, more tender now. “she’s my rock,” she said simply. “she’s the one who saw me on the bad days, when I couldn’t walk without pain, when I doubted if I’d ever be back. she believed in me even when i didn’t. tonight isn’t just for me—it’s for her too.”

you felt your throat tighten at her words, and when the reporter looked to you, you tried your best to hold it together. “she’s the hardest-working person I know. i've never met someone so determined like paige is. she's been through so much and i—i really couldn't be more proud of her."

paige squeezed your hand again, and the camera caught it all—the subtle touch, the glances, the smile that only ever appeared when she was looking at you.

"okay, one last question before we leave." the reporter looked down and her watch for a split second before turning back to you. "how do you feel about having her with you in dallas?"

"oh god," you laughed. "i'm excited, to be honest. you know, we played together at upon before i came here and i'm just glad we get to continue our journey together."

"well, we're excited to see you two together again." the reporter gave you both a smile and thanked you for your time, turning around to her camera crew and directing them to another player.

when it was just the two of you, you turned your attention to paige and gave her a look, pointing a finger at her. "don't think i'm gonna go easy on you either."

"i hope not." she grinned, pulling you in and pressing another kiss to your lips, longer this time but not long enough to draw attention.

her hands gave a light squeeze to your waist, a silent promise that no matter what happened you would always have each other.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

[lietogirlsss]

COULDN'T MAKE IT ANY HARDER !

joaquin torres x fem!reader

: in which you and joaquin have known eachother as teenagers. You thought he was a pain in the ass and he spent everyday proving you wrong. Now that he's Captain America's protege, you've gotten a call that he was in the hospital after falling into the Indian Ocean, you'd do anything to go back to those days again.

: this was hardkey inspired by danny's interview in a talkshow, the coincidences are WILD. For the purpose of the plot, you and joaquin grew up in Miami.

: use of petnames, swearing, blood, implied death, implied murder, police chases, sort of spicy scene, reader speaks spanish. Lmk if I translated any of the words wrong!

MIAMI, 2017

"CHECK IT OUT! I'M GUNNA DO IT!"

"JOAQUIN YOU ASSHAT GET DOWN FROM THERE! WE'RE GUNNA GET CAUGHT!"

You push your sunglasses above your eyes as you whirl over your shoulder to see Joaquin and another one of your friends Javi clamber on top of a second floor balcony overlooking the pool where all eight of you had broken into instead of attending 7th period on a particularly sweltering Friday afternoon. The news forecast advised everybody to stay inside and to hydrate frequently, but then again it was Florida, so naturally it fell on deaf ears.

The entire hotel, was closed off because of a bedbug infestation reported by a couple of tourists flocking to Miami because of summer, it's been a month since they fumigated the entire hotel and all you had to do was dodge a couple security guards. Which wasn't hard at all, you and your friend Sofia who was in your AP Physics class just fluttered your eyelashes at them long enough so that the others could get in.

Sofia who was currently in the water waded towards you who was propped up on your elbows, glancing up at Joaquin and Javi in the distance with stupidly wide grins on their faces, illuminated by scattered rays of golden sunlight shining through the trees from the penthouse. "We're gunna be busted thanks to them."

"Hey, why do you look so worried? I thought you wanted to skip class with us?" You wondered, raising a quizzical brow at her.

"I did, but now I think I shoulda just sat this one out. Listen to a white man teach me a language I already know." Sofia professed, taking a swig of Bud Light. "What if we get caught, man? If my parents find out about this i'm screwed."

"No pasa nada, If your parents are gunna chew you up so are mine, alright? We're in this together." You reassure her, laughing through your nose. "Besides, school ends tomorrow, they shouldn't get their panties in such a twist." Your statement then earns you a poke in the side making you cringe and let out a cackle. Don't worry about it.

You watch as Joaquin and Javi shimmy in front of the handrails of the balcony clearly preparing themselves to jump, in Joaquin's hand was a can of PBR, the cloud like carbonation from the beer was fizzing out from a slit on the side so that he and Javi could shotgun before diving into the pool. You watch how the liquid runs down Joaquin's arm, eventually making an unattractive splattering sound on the floor below.

"WHO WANTS TO SEE ME AND JAVI SHOTGUN THIS BEER BEFORE DIVING INTO THE POOL?!?"

The rest of your friends cheered and hollered. But you scoffed, immensely unimpressed, you always thought Joaquin was incredibly full of himself and was the main reason all of you kept getting caught. Sure, you shouldn't be there in the first place but sneaking into them would have been a hell of a lot easier without Joaquin roping in Javi to do stupid stunts with him. You scoffed once more as you turn your attention back to your phone to choose another song from your playlist; But before you could shove your earbud back into your left ear you hear Joaquin yell,

"WHAT DO YOU SAY Y/N? YOU THINK I CAN MAKE THE JUMP?"

You shoot him a disdained look, scowling from your spot by the pool. "Hopefully not, maybe then your mother would actually be proud of something you did."

Joaquin jeers playfully, even going as far as pouting at you from such a distance. "Oh come on angel! Have some faith in me!"

"Yeah Y/N! have some faith!" Javi chimes in, delighted as ever.

You shift your body in such a way that your front would be fully facing him. "I don't wanna have to explain to your mother her son nose dived onto solid concrete, I don't think I'd be able to keep a straight face."

Joaquin in return makes a face at you, half in disbelief, half in amusement whilst on the brink of laughter yet again. "Oh trust me, you'd be devastated if anything happened to this face." He replies all bold and cocksure.

You hummed. "I don't even think you can spell devastated if your life depended on it."

"¡Carajo, can too!" He riposted confidently. "How about this, every time I get a letter correct is how long we gotta kiss." Damn it.

You laugh through your nose as everyone around you started hooting and hollering. "Where are we middle school? Please, if I wanted a kiss that badly I would've just stuck my face in front of a slobbering dog, even then it would be less sloppy."

Joaquin then makes a face, almost like he's just been stabbed. You roll your eyes at him for the umpteenth time. "I can't tell you how hurtful that is to me, especially since we've never even kissed before so you're basically going off of nothing here."

"And I'd like to keep it that way." You drawled as a matter of factly.

"If you two end up killing yourselves before graduation I'm actually going to burn you alive!" Another one of your friends, Isabelle, yelled from the edge of the pool before your other friend Mason grabs her by the waist and leaped into the pool with her. Everyone erupts in a chorus of laughter.

"What do you say Y/N? You up for it???" Joaquin hollers.

"In your-"

Your statement was short-lived when all of you hear shuffling from one of the farthest hallways almost like running. Your head snaps towards that direction just seconds before you heard the security guards yelling expletives and empty threats. All 8 of you scampered off with your shit, some leaping out of the pool, some even leaving their shoes behind. You sling your bag over your shoulder and start running towards the exit, in your peripheral you spot Joaquin and Javi climbing back onto the balcony as you follow Sofia out of there.

The guards were relentless despite their physique, being able to stay hot on your tail as you, Sofia, and Mason dart off in different directions, not before agreeing to meet up at a local mom n' pop shop a couple blocks from there that sold "naturally flavored" slushees. As you tiptoed your way through the barren outdoor bar, you found yourself constantly looking over your shoulder as the blazing afternoon sun battered it's unforgiving rays onto your face which made your hair cling to your skin uncomfortably, not a gust of wind blowing past.

Then you suddenly felt a hand wrap its fingers around your arm making you whirl around in shock, only to be met by Joaquin shooting you one of his signature shrewd yet saccharine smiles, a lone finger resting atop his lips as the sun illuminated his skin like it was glittering gold. Glittering gold? What are you? a fucking poet?

You tugged your hand forcefully out of his grasp, snapping yourself out of it. "You asshole! What the fuck were you thinking?!?"

Joaquin chuckles at your face, how your narrowed eyes expressed both disdain, relief and also an intense blaze of hatred. "That's a little hurtful don't you think? Whatever happened to 'hey joaquin?' or maybe even a 'sup sexy', hmm?"

You shoot him a deranged look as you jab him in the side causing him to recoil in pain. "I thought I was caught! What the fuck man?!?"

"Do you really think a guard would hold your arm the way I did?" Joaquin wheezed out, a certain sourness to his face as he kneads his gut. "Some fucking guard, I was being gentle as hell."

You roll your eyes at his excessive dramatics. "Oh come on, I didn't hit you that hard... Did I? "

"You definitely didn't." He says, making your face crease even more. "It's just that while we were running away I fell down a flight of stairs tryna get away from the guards, landed on my side, heard a crack. They almost cuffed my ass."

Your eyes widen, shame and regret overcoming you as you realize maybe you shouldn't have punched him. "Oh shit-! Oh my god I'm so sorry... Lemme take a look-" You babble abashed, eyes zeroing on the area where Joaquin had his hand pressed against.

"Hey, no, it's alright." He insists, a coy smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. "I'm alright angel I swear-"

"The hell you are, just lemme take a look, coño." You counter. "Here, lift up your shirt, I gotta see if it's swelling-"

After all that he still manages to laugh. "Can't a girl take a guy out to dinner first? Damn."

"Shut up." You say, focused, swatting his hand away. "Let me look at it, Joaquin."

"Dawww, look at you all concerned about me." He crooned, giving you a dopey smile. "Makes me actually wish I threw myself down a flight of stairs."

You take a step back, glaring at him in disbelief. "Oh you're sick."

"I think you mispronounced 'devilishly handsome'."

You scoffed, walking away from him before he jogs up to you, facing you as he starts walking backwards. "Hey, look, it isn't funny I got it. Apology accepted? Great! thanks. I knew you'd come around, angel."

"I actually thought I hurt you, dumbass."

"Hey, you could never hurt me, not for lack of trying but definitely because you don't know how to throw a punch for your life."

"Oh my god!" You exclaim in irritation.

"Look at you all hot and bothered." Joaquin guffaws at your face. "I wasn't the one that wanted to see me strip myself shirtless out in the open like this."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "I swear to fucking God you're gunna wish-"

"HEY I CAN HEAR SOME OF 'EM OVER HERE!"

You and Joaquin turn your heads towards the voice before glancing at each other. "You wanna hold onto that sentiment?"

"Actually, I think this argument can wait. Part 2?"

"Jesus, just can't get enough of me, can you?" Joaquin accuses, shaking his head at you in disbelief. "I hate to say it, I think you're obsessed with me."

"You wish." You say biting down a grin with everything in you whilst pushing him away, hearing his raucuous laugh as both of you ran off as fast as you could. You don't realize he grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him this entire time until the both of you managed to run 3 blocks in the summer heat and he lets go of your hand to open the door to the mom n' pop store.

WASHINGTON, 2027

After hours upon hours of surgery Joaquin finally wakes up. His eyelids fluttering open as if it had been the first time in a long time, to a fancy hospital room with scattered beams of sunlight streaming in through the windows.

The last thing he recalls is him flying over Celestial Island, a misunderstanding with Sam which led to a sudden outward burst of bright orange engulfing him, and the faintest feeling of being pulled downwards from the sky. But he didn't expect you sitting on the armchair beside him with your head rested on your hand, eyes shut, and lips parted as he picks up on your soft snoring

Still incredibly lethargic, Joaquin couldn't help but grin at the sight of you. Oh, if only he had the strength to reach over to the bedside table to get his phone and take a picture. He would never let you live it down. In fact he'd probably print multiple copies of it and give them to you every Christmas moving forward, until when who knew.

Just as he was entertaining the thought in his mind, he sees you stir in the chair; letting out a large yawn, you blink repeatedly as your eyes try to get used to the brightness of the room.

"Wakey, wakey." Joaquin teased, causing your head to snap up at him in surprise. His voice still evidently hoarse never lacked the amusement it held wheneve he was a conversation with you. "you came all this way just to visit me huh tonto?" Moron.

You smiled, laughing through your nose. "I didn't have any plans for the weekend." You shrug, rubbing your eye free of the film that stuck it together. "Thought I'd drop by, see how terrible you look."

"Oh yeah? What's your verdict?" Joaquin implored.

"You look like if a sock monkey was put through a meat grinder." You say, punctuating your statement with a giggle that made Joaquin's internal organs do a somersault. "Then again you always look this chopped."

"Wow, way to kick a man while he's down." He replies, fake hurt. "I fell outta the sky a couple days ago, don't I get a day off from your... colorful opinions?"

You shook your head at him. "Nah, not when you made me your emergency contact." You shift in your position, boxing your arms over your chest as you look down at Joaquin with an almost cocksure expression. "Although I do have to say thank you, I met Captain America AND The Winter Soldier. On the same day."

Joaquin tilts his head back against the pillow, grinning at the cieling in disbelief. "See? And you're still convinced I don't do anything for you."

Your snort, chuckling loudly. "For a moment I nearly forgot I ran three red lights for you, all I could think about was how well Bucky fit in that suit-"

"-Three red lights? " Joaquin echoes suddenly, furrowing his eyebrows at you. "Damn, see this is why I made you my emergency contact, you're not afraid to break traffic rules."

"I could think of a dozen other people that you covuld've thought of before you chose me." You retaliated.

"Oh yeah? Do you think they had the guts to run a red light let alone three?"

"All three of your siblings maybe?" You suggest comically. "I dunno, just choose one. They'd be more than willing to run every red light possible."

"Red lights sure, but they weren't ballsy enough to break into a skate park with me at 4am on a school night just to hang out." He argued, smiling at you. "And of course there was that whole fiasco with the hotel on Hibiscus Avenue-"

"Irrelevant, we did that with a ton of friends."

"Yeah sure, let's leave out the fact that we made out twice afterwards." He rolled his eyes. "We didn't do that with 'a ton of friends'." He emphasized, almost mocking you.

You gawk at him in disbelief. "Low. We were 18."

"Hey, at least you can say you made out with The Falcon." Joaquin laughed at you. "Not many people can say that. Now that everybody knows about me because I fell into the stupid ocean you can pull that card whenever you like."

A moments pause.

"Captain America said they had to restart your heart." You brought up, staring at the ECG monitor before sighing. "What were you tryna prove now?"

"That I could do it." He says honestly, the answer practically lunging out of his mouth. "That I could be the next Falcon."

"Except you nearly died." You tell Joaquin, he takes note of your posture, sitting stiffly in the chair as the conversation takes a turn.

"I came back." Joaquin reasoned weakly. "The man upstairs let me off on a warning, says I still got some shit I gotta finish."

"Clearly its because He didn't want anyone face-planting into pillars or pissing off any of the cherubs." You sneered, causing him to let out a huff of laughter. "Its not like you've matured much since we last met. You're still crashing into shit, leaping off shit."

"-Excuse you, that's called falling with style." Joaquin insisted as a matter of factly. "If i learned anything about watching Disney movies everyday when I was a little kid is that Buzz Lightyear would be stinkin' proud if he could see where I am right now."

You don't roll your eyes at him or scoff at him or make yet another witty remark, what you did do surprised him and even you. Your eyes suddenly appeared to be more glassier than usual, you scratch the inner corner of your eye as you frowned at him. "I thought I lost you." You say, the instability of your tone was what made Joaquin's throat tighten.

"I'm still here, I'm right here." Joaquin assured you. "You know a little tumble can't stop me."

"What if next time you don't get so lucky, huh?" You wonder quietly. "What if this is the last time you injure yourself and I don't get to see you wake up high as a fucking kite and grinning at me like I just told you I introduced you to Antman?"

He manages to laugh through his nose. "Angel, have a little faith in me, would you?"

You bristle in your spot, feeling fully awake now. "I hate the fact that you keep putting yourself in situations where you can get hurt. What if eventually my faith just won't cut it anymore? You can't fucking blame me for living in fear." You argue with him as you wept, tears coursing down your cheeks as you chased at them with your palms.

"We aren't kids in Miami anymore, you're not in the air force, you're a superhero. You've got two feet in the grave at this point and I think you're just waiting for someone with a shovel."

Joaquin eyes begun to sting. "That's not fair." He says quietly, shaking his head. "I'm trying to make a difference in the world, a real difference." You knew he was, the both of you grew up watching the Avengers fight crime in New York, then in Sokovia. Now several years later they've got someone that looks like Joaquin helping out the common man. Sure, it was a huge difference. Representation came a long way. But you couldn't deny how terrified you were every time you got an update from him saying he was on a new mission with Captain America

"It wouldn't matter, not when I lose you in the process." You tell him honestly, seeing a tear escape the corner of his eye. "Look we're friends, I- I care about you."

"I care about you too." Joaquin replies, almost a little too quickly, possibly to mask the overwhelming ache in his chest when you bring up the fact that you are just friends. "Maybe a lot. Hell, you're the reason I'm here right now."

You stop to glare at him. "Okay, rude."

"Remember when I told you I only enlisted in the air force because my family couldn't afford to send me off to college?"

You nod, waiting for him to continue.

"We still didn't, but the real reason why is that I wanted to impress you." Joaquin professed, looking back at you with a half-smile, like he didn't just throw you in for a loop. "I know it's stupid-"

"It is, it really is." You interrupt him mid-speech.

"Look, all I wanted is for you to think I'm great..." Joaquin admitted loudly silencing you. Though he regrets it a second later as he wets his lips, lost in thought before speaking once more. "I thought that- that if I made something of myself then maybe you didn't look at me like I was just someone you grew up with that pissed you off all the damn time."

"Why?" You wonder, your brows still furrowed.

Joaquin opens his mouth, then closes it and lets out a huff of laughter. "I dunno, maybe cuz I sort of had a big fat crush on you in highschool."

"Oh yeah, I didn't pick up on that at all." You drawled sarcastically causing Joaquin to laugh at himself in embarrassment prompting you to chuckle at his face.

"Now this is the part where you say you liked me too."

"Is it?" You wonder, drying your eyes. "Huh... too bad."

"Huh... so this is the feeling of getting shot a hundred times." He says with realization.

"You gotta get used to it. You're The Falcon now, you can't cry if you stubbed a toe while trying to do the Michael Jackson lean."

"Hey that toe actually broke, you know."

"You're not helping yourself in this situation." You shook your head as you find yourself laughing at him again. "We really can't have one serious conversation."

If it was possible, Joaquin's smile grows wider. "Admit it, I make you laugh and you love it."

"Never in a million years." You enunciate. "And it dosent count because you're high."

"Me??? High???" He wonders almost scandalised. "Pshhh watch this, D-E-V-A-S-T-E-D."

That gets the tiniest chuckle out of you. "Well done, does somebody want a treat?"

"Nah, I want something better." He says, almost like he was alluding to something you're clearly not aware of.

You shook your head at him as it finally dawned on you. "Hell no, Joaquin."

"Come on!" He insisted as you hide your face in your hands. "You remember that day in the Hotel, right?"

"I'm not kissing you, your breath smells terrible."

"Ahhh so you haven't forgotten. I knew it." Joaquin guffawed, nodding.

"How many times do I gotta say no before you actually listen to me?" You clapped back, almost challenging him.

"D'you wanna find out? Because pucker up buttercu-"

He is swiftly silenced by the sudden collision of your lips onto his, he shuts his eyes closed as you re-angle your face, deepening the kiss. You feel his cold hands cup the side of your jaw, you flinch. He grins against your lips, he's definitely noticed. In return, you gently nibble on his lower lip making him let out a low groan that made you quiver, you lean in closer as if the pair of you weren't close enough at this point, your chest and his near centimetres apart, your heartbeats melding into one.

An intense fervor flourished to life within you as he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear, the strand of hair being draped over your face on account of having to lean closer to him. Joaquin moved his hands to grip the base of your neck just as his tongue entered your mouth, you allow him in as both of you passionately duel against eachother as if there was a battle to be won. No, Joaquin had to remind himself the fighting was in the past, all he could feel, all he could touch, all he could smell was you. All there was, was you. And that was a thousand victories on its own.

"Shit- angel... you're tryna kill me." He mumbled so quietly it made you chase at his lips, effectively shutting him up.

"That enough not to make you leave?" You answered, the kiss intensifying a hundred fold. Teeth clashing together, the sound of you and Joaquin gasping for air without having to pull away, laboured breaths in between the sound of poppysmic, and the sheets shuffling.

Suddenly the door knob turns and you and Joaquin pull away instantly, it was almost comical. It was the nurse with a concerned look on her face and a clipboard in her hands. "Is everything alright in here?"

Joaquin clears his throat, glancing back at you who was slouched in the armchair, scratching the side of your mouth. "Uhhh- y-yeah, yeah everything's uhm... fine."

"You two sure?" The nurse reiterates. "His heart rate spiked up all of a sudden, gave us all quite a scare out there."

You finally spoke up. "Sorry, no, we were just... laughing at the birds... outside."

"Uh-huh, you shoulda seen them... one of them was doing the Russian folk dance." Joaquin supplements, his statement falling apart mid-sentence. He makes a subtle face at you in confusion to which you mirror.

The nurse raises a quizzical brow at the pair of you, she takes note of the flushed cheeks and the apparent yet awkward looks you had on your faces that you two failed at hiding. She glances back at the monitor, Joaquin's heartrate wasn't as rampant as before as it began decreasing by the second.

"I'll come back in a while, keep that heart rate of yours in check pretty boy."

"Isn't that kinda your job?"

"Excuse me? "

"That was outta line... that's my bad." Joaquin replies quickly, offering an apologetically cheeky smile as the nurse shuts the door behind her, muttering to herself.

You and Joaquin then look at eachother.

"You know... that's three now." He suddenly says.

"Oh, so we're keeping count? " You bounce back, sitting up.

"Yeah, so we can keep breaking that record..." Joaquin paused. "If you're interested." He suggested coyly causing you to roll your eyes at him again, trying your best not to let him see the red tint blossoming from your cheeks.

You hummed out a laugh. "Try and get outta that hospital bed first, let's see what happens."

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

father. l Joel Miller

Summary: life decided to surprise you

Warnings: angst, sad, some fluff, anger, crying, worries, vomiting ; Ellie appears there, mention of pregnancy

A/N: ok so, i've been planning this for a while now, i hope you'll take this chapter well and have mercy on me. i'm waiting for your opinions. thank you

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

It was still early, the sun had only recently begun to slowly break through the curtains of your bedroom. The silence in the room was broken only by your steady breathing as you curled up in a deep sleep, unaware that Joel was no longer asleep.

He rested his head on his hand and watched you closely. The strands of your hair spilling over the pillow, he saw how your chest rose with your gentle breath, noticed the delicate movements of your body and felt your warmth.

God, he loved you so much, and at the same time he had been feeling a strange fear. It all started almost two weeks ago when he made himself some coffee in the morning, and after entering the kitchen you immediately ran to the bathroom.

"It must be yesterday's stew." You mumbled when your stomach had already calmed down, and Joel insisted that you should stay at home that day.

However, the situation repeated itself several times. Joel was on patrol at the time, but Ellie told him about it, warning him that you forbade her to tell anyone about it, especially Joel.

"It could be something serious." she mumbled, clearly concerned that she was breaking her promise to you. "I don't want anything to happen to her."

It worried him, and even more so because you pretended that there was no problem. Joel wasn't stupid, so he let every thought come to his mind, even the one that scared him the most.

"When was the last time you bled?"

You looked at him in surprise, fluffing the pillow. "What kind of question is that?"

He picked up the sheets from the ground that were supposed to go to the wash and shrugged. "I just wondered. Didn't you think that maybe..."

He noticed how you frowned and tensed up. Apparently you didn't let that thought get to you, but Joel did. He had been a father before, he knew perfectly well how pregnancy went and was a good observer.

"Maybe what?" you asked quietly.

"I think you might be pregnant." he finally said and you chuckled.

"Please." you snorted, "That's impossible."

"Why?" He put the sheets on the bed and rested his arms on his hips. "You're nauseous, more sleepy, your breasts...are bigger. Baby, have you considered that you could..."

"No!" you interrupted him firmly "I know pulling out isn't the best method of contraception, but we're careful." Joel raised his eyebrows and you groaned "Why do you even have to bring this up?" you sat down on the bed, burying your face in your hands.

"Sweetheart, I know it's hard..." he said, coming over and sitting next to you, he stroked your back slowly "But... I remember what it looked like, and now I see it on you. We should check it out and..."

"No!" you interrupted him abruptly and stood up unexpectedly "I'm not pregnant. It's just some stupid virus or something. I'm tired and that's all."

The tears that appeared in your eyes hurt him. The thought of pregnancy, of a child, was painful for him, but then he realized what you could feel. You knew about Sarah and that he had lost her. You had to find out since her name was in Tommy's house. However, you never talked about it, you never asked him about that life. And now...

You must have been terrified and you didn't allow yourself to think about this possibility at all.

The next few days passed by avoiding the topic. Joel knew that you were vomiting, although you tried to hide it. He saw how you were fighting sleep. You were so incredibly stubborn not to admit to yourself what he was trying to tell you. So he had to take matters into his own hands.

You slowly opened your eyes and stretched. You didn't even have time to greet him when three pregnancy tests appeared before your eyes.

"I got them on the last patrol." Joel announced "Please, just do it. If it's a virus, I'll leave you alone. I want to make sure you're safe."

You wanted to rebel, you wanted to talk him out of this stupid idea, but you gave in. It made no sense. So you disappeared into the bathroom for the longest five minutes of your lives.

Joel knew he'd never forget the look on your face when you opened the door. Your eyes were wide, and your face was filled with terror and shock. He'd barely taken the test from your hand when you'd slumped to the floor, tears streaming down your face.

All three were positive.

It was like a punch in the gut. He'd guessed that might be the case, but the reality had overwhelmed him.

"I can't, I can't, Joel..." you repeated as he stared at the result, unable to gather his thoughts, "God, what have I done!"

"Honey, it's not just you..." he said sitting down next to you and taking you in his arms, but nothing reached you.

No words from him, no comforting. You cried until you got tired and fell asleep again.

"A baby? You're having a baby?" Tommy looked at Joel in surprise "Wow! I mean... That's great, right?"

It was late. Jackson was shrouded in darkness when Joel appeared on his brother's porch. Despite the invitation, he didn't go inside, he was too shaken to even sit down.

Now that he had confessed to his brother what you had found out that morning, he felt the reality starting to creep in.

"I'm too old for this." he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief "I can't believe that.. Shit! Do you know what I put her through? I was stupid to think that I could have a normal life, that we could pretend that..."

"Fuck, Joel!" Tommy hissed, looking at him angrily "What are you talking about?! You love her!"

"So what?!" he snapped "That won't save her and...the baby."

He was furious. He clenched his hands on the porch railing, not even knowing what he expected. The strong need to throw it all away made Joel go to his brother, but he didn't support him. No, he told him that what he was so afraid of was wonderful.

"Would you marry her if the world was different?"

The question surprised him. He looked at Tommy, confused.

"It's a simple question." Tommy leaned back next to him and folded his arms over his chest. "Would you marry her? Would you like to have this child then?"

He slowly nodded.

"You think you don't deserve a normal life, but that's not true. You have the right to be happy, and she gives it to you. I'm sure she's scared too..."

"She's been crying nonstop since this morning, she hasn't eaten much…" Joel replied. "I'm scared, you know. I don't want to lose her… Her and the baby."

"When Maria was pregnant I was scared too. But we have a really good doctor in Jackson. We have the equipment."

Joel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt like Tommy had lifted some of the burden off his shoulders and filled his heart with a little hope.

"Please don't tell anyone in Jackson." he said finally. "Let's keep this between us for now."

"Sure." Tommy patted him on the back. "Of course, she won't be going on patrols anymore. I'll find someone else to take her place."

"Thanks."

It was earlier when he went down to the kitchen and noticed with surprise that Ellie was preparing tea and breakfast. She bustled around without a word and put everything on a tray as if she wanted to take it somewhere.

"What are you doing?" Joel asked, and the girl almost jumped.

"What does it look like?" she snapped. "I'm making her breakfast. She hasn't eaten since yesterday. I don't know what's wrong with her, but if she keeps this up, she'll spit her stomach out. Maybe she should see a doctor, eh?"

"The doctor probably won't help her now." Joel snapped, pouring himself some coffee.

Ellie put the pan in the sink and looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?" she asked "Don't tell me she's pregnant or something."

Joel swallowed a sip of coffee, but didn't answer. He also didn't see Ellie's eyes widen with excitement.

"Oh, fuck!" she screamed excitedly and immediately fell silent, scolded by Joel's look. "Really?! Shit, dude! I thought you knew how this would end, but you're so crazy about her that I'm not surprised. A baby…"

She took the tray in her hands, but immediately put it down as if something had occurred to her.

"That's why she's crying so much," she said worriedly, "I saw her eyes. She hasn't left the room since yesterday."

"She's..." Joel didn't know how to put it all into words, it was so surreal, "It caught us off guard. We don't know how to deal with it yet."

"What do you mean?" Ellie grimaced, "You love each other, you're going to have a baby. It's pretty simple."

He raised a hand to stop the girl, because her stream of thoughts was slowly overwhelming him. "It's not that simple, Ellie. Bringing a child into this world is risky."

The girl shrugged. "But you're his father, right? You'll keep her and the little one safe. This kid really hit the jackpot. I know what I'm talking about! I don't know my father or mom, but you two are doing a really good job."

It was late when Joel took you to the clinic two days later. The streets of Jackson were dark, and Dr. Morris opened the door for you without unnecessary remarks. You didn't want anyone to see you, you didn't want anyone to know.

Even though you weren't crying anymore, everything still seemed unrealistic to you. At first you denied the thought of pregnancy, then you blamed yourself, and none of Joel's words could change that. Even though it was hard for him, he finally accepted it. You would have a child, he would be a father again.

Maybe Tommy was right? Maybe he had a chance for a little happiness in his life? He had Ellie, who was like a daughter to him. And he had you. And you were everything. With you, he felt as if you took his heart in your hands and took care of it. He couldn't imagine any other life than with you. What if the world looked different? Yes, Tommy was right. He wouldn't hesitate. Even though Joel had already been burned once, and even though his heart was broken, with you he wanted to try again.

"This might feel a little uncomfortable." Doctor Morris said as you settled down and pulled your shirt up, the cool gel covering your lower abdomen. "Don't worry. It'll take a moment."

You nodded. Your hand nervously gripped the edge of the couch, but Joel noticed and took it in his. He was sitting right next to you, and now he kissed your hand and stared at the screen.

"Okay." The doctor pressed a few switches and ran the probe over your skin. "We've got everything here... Give me a second. Oh, yes! Here it is."

He pointed to something small inside your uterus. "It's still tiny. This could be week five or six."

You started counting quickly in your head. It had to have happened before Shane's wedding. Maybe when you came back from one of the dances? Maybe when Ellie was staying over at a friend's and you and Joel finally had the house to yourselves? You looked at him and saw that the same thoughts were swirling in his head.

And then the doctor pressed something and you heard a strange sound. A steady, regular, clattering sound.

"The heart is beating strongly." Morris smiled "It should come in mid-winter, I think. Everything looks fine now."

It was only when you both left the clinic and the door closed behind you, only when the cold wind swept your face, that you felt that it was all real.

Joel placed a hesitant hand on the lower part of your back "How do you feel?" he asked.

"I have no idea, really." you replied "It's... It's overwhelming and it's so hard for me to believe it."

"Me too. I didn't think I'd ever face something like this again, but with you... With you I could do it."

You looked at him, you knew that it must have been hard for Joel too. Neither of you planned this, you didn't even talk about it.

"Do you want this baby?" you asked quietly.

He was silent for a moment, but finally those brown eyes that you loved so much looked at you and you knew. "I would like to have everything with you. No matter what you decide, I will always be by your side, baby. We will handle it."

"I know..." you smiled slightly and reached for his hand.

For the first time, he touched your belly with the thought that your child was inside. Safe and sound, not knowing how scared his parents were. But Joel felt it, he felt that warm feeling again that slowly filled his heart and gave him hope.

He could have everything again. With you.

"I'm so fucking scared." you whispered.

"Yeah, baby. Me too."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name

[tojipie]

˚ ✧ content: first-time parent toji, doctor reader, fluff, brief mentions of injury

“oh— hey! found one more for you down the hall.” a dreaded patient chart is thrust into your arms before you can tell the cheery nurse that your shift is already over. 

“great,” you mutter, tiredly scanning the stack of paperwork as you make your way down the hall. it was way too late for this. 

2-year-old male, already triaged and x-rayed. drove in by his dad about 2 hours ago. nothing too extensive, wouldn’t take more than an hour to get him sent home. 

soft cries greet you at the door to the examination room, a hushed voice— his father— attempting to console the child.

“megs, c'mon. you’re gonna be okay! these are good people.” the older man whispers, sighing as the toddler’s sobs only grow louder.

your knock silences them both, the little boy trying to put on a strong face for you despite the little sniffles wracking his chest. 

the kid is a carbon copy of his dad, donning the same shaggy black hair and big green eyes. the toddler looks up at you hesitantly, long lashes slick with tears.

“see? doctor’s here,” his dad coos, feigning fake excitement as you shut the door behind you. you can hear the quiver in his voice as he says it, anxiety eating away at his composure.

first-time parent you think, cute. always more terrified than the child. always.

“how’s our little trooper doing?” you smile, sympathetic to both their states. the younger boy says nothing, wiping the wetness from his face with his good arm. poor baby.

“fell off his trike in the driveway,” the father explains, shaking his head. he was charming, soft-spoken yet commanding respect. gnarled edges of a scar gracing the side of his mouth.

“can i see? just want to have a better look at the injury site,” you say calmly, snapping on a pair of blue gloves.

“show her where it hurts kiddo,” he asks tenderly, wincing as you take the ice pack off to expose the child’s swollen wrist.  

megumi looks up at you curiously as you examine the injury, exhausted from a mix of pain and sleep deprivation.

 “mama?” he mumbles, idly kicking his feet in his father’s lap.

“no bud not mama.” the older man laughs, clearly embarrassed. you feel your heart twinge just a bit at the adorable show of confusion.  

“no broken skin, the joint is still aligned too.” you say confidently, placing the ice pack back. “likely not a break or a dislocation but i’ll look at the x-rays just so we’re positive, sound good?”

the father nods quietly, hugging his son to his chest.

“his mom was never in the picture, s’ hard handling him alone,” the older man doesn’t follow up on his comment, leaving it at that.

you nod. “i’m sorry.”

“toji,” he mumbles.

“i’m sorry, toji.”

it doesn’t take long for you to go over the blue images. an intact bone stands out against the illuminated wall, not a break thankfully. the stranger catches on soon enough, tension leaving his body at the good news. 

“looks like it’s just a sprain,” you say, pointing to the image. 

“see that kiddo?” he whispers, turning the little boy’s head toward you. “s’ nothing.”

“nofing?” megumi mumbles, clearly too tired to pay attention anymore. shy as a bunny.

“you’re gonna want to ice and elevate for at least the next two days, you should see a full recovery by then but if not i want you to come right back, okay?” you explain.

the father nods, propping his little boy down on the floor as you type out your post-visit instructions.

“say thank you to the pretty doctor megs,” he encourages, chuckling as the little boy waddles over to hug your leg with his good arm. so incredibly tiny. 

pretty huh? you could get used to that.

“fank you.” his sweet voice latches onto your tired heart and melts you from the inside. megumi slumps down against your shoe as sleep takes over, caught under the arms and swept into his dad’s arms in an instant. 

[ephemeralinstance]

Why is Rook so uncurious?

I've seen people complain that Veilguard changes Solas' motivations. And that's sort of true, but really it doesn't so much change them as just try really hard not to look at them. All of the things we were shown in previous games about the ongoing and serious harm done by the Veil still remain completely true, it's just that Rook is never allowed to ask or think about any of this stuff. Which is frustrating because it significantly weakens Rook's character: they end up coming off as determinedly ignorant and uncurious.

Take the information we're given about why taking down the Veil is bad - which seems entirely limited to Varric's claim that it would 'drown the world in demons.' Rook is constantly parroting this line, treating Varric as the ultimate authority on the matter. But this claim makes very little sense, because it surely cannot be the case that Solas wants to create a world filled with nothing but demons. From Inquisition we know he's greatly distressed every time a spirit becomes a demon, so that can't possibly be the outcome that he's expecting.

Of course, Solas could be wrong; he's certainly been wrong about many things before and he's not thinking very clearly. But even so, why on earth would we take Varric's word over Solas' here? Solas is an ancient and knowledgeable mage, the only person around who lived before the Veil, and he literally made the Veil. Whereas Varric is not a mage, has never studied magic or spirits, and is canonically frightened of the Fade and spirits: in the Lighthouse he mentions several times that he finds this 'Fade shit' weird. How could he possibly be in a position to know better than Solas about what would happen if the Veil came down?

Maybe I as a player can just accept that because Varric is The Narrator he must be right about all this. But Rook doesn't know that Varric is The Narrator. So it just feels like Rook is either incredibly ignorant or so devoted to Varric that their ability to think for themself has completely shut down. It's such an odd, anti-intellectual, anti-expert framing: don't do research or talk to anyone who has knowledge on the matter, just accept unquestioningly what your friend says.

Equally frustrating is the absence of any critical thinking about Solas' reasons for doing what he's doing. The only thing Varric and Harding tell Rook about this is that Solas is doing it because the ancient world was beautiful, but what does that mean? And is it really plausible that Solas is doing all this just because of aesthetics?

Rook hears Solas say 'The Veil is a wound on the world,' and never once thinks to ask - what did he mean by that? A wound is something that causes harm, that causes pain. What is the Veil harming? What pain is it responsible for? (From previous games we know the answer, of course. It's harming spirits, mages, and perhaps elves. But Rook never bothers to ask Solas, or to ask anyone else, or even to try to think about for themself about it.).

There's a moment right at the very end, where Solas is finally permitted to mention that he's doing this partly for the spirits. But in a perfect encapsulation of their whole dynamic, Rook immediately interrupts him. Doesn't even let him finish his sentence. Rook is so completely confident that they know best for the spirits and that this person who literally was once a spirit couldn't possibly have any insight into the matter.

At the beginning of the game Varric comments that he chose the name 'Rook' because Rook tends to think in straight lines. Which struck me as odd at the time, because 'thinks in straight lines' sounds like Varric is saying Rook isn't very smart. I thought I must have misinterpreted it, because why on earth would you choose to impose as a requirement on all players that their pc must lack critical thinking? But looking back I can see that's kinda exactly what they did, which - maybe they thought it would be more relatable? Still, if you're going to impose a fixed personality on the main character of a game, it's baffling to me that you would pick 'absence of critical thinking' as one of their main features.

[leashybebes]

I feel so mean but I want to know how Buck reacted when he opened his fridge and saw that Tommy bought CHAMPAGNE, clearly planning to celebrate...

(I like breaking my own heart, it's my biggest Tommy trait of all...)

ohhhh that IS mean, i love it.

When Tommy walks out - again - Buck just stands for a long moment, once again wondering how things between them can be so, so good, and then can go south so fast. Because he's pretty sure Tommy was going to stay, long enough to eat breakfast at least, and then longer than that. And then Tommy said something really fucking stupid, and Buck said something really fucking mean and then - then he was just gone.

God damn it.

Not quite sure what else to do, Buck picks up the coffee Tommy had poured for him and takes a sip. Perfect. It's perfect. It's been months, and Tommy can still make Buck's coffee just like he likes it. It feels like it should mean something, but - but Tommy's not here. Maybe that's who he is - maybe that's as much as they'll ever have. Shallow moments of connection that feel like they mean more. Incredible sex. Talking past each other until they hit on a soft spot too painful to process properly, and Tommy walks out.

Tommy's always leaving, and Buck's always being left, and he's suddenly so, so tired.

The breakfast that had smelled so good when Buck first registered it holds no appeal. He tries a slice of bacon anyway, because he hates wasting food, and just like the coffee it's perfect. Just like the coffee, the perfection feels unearned and unstable and like it's just begging Buck to read too much into it. When he'd walked into the kitchen and seen Tommy, tired but gorgeous in the soft morning light, when he'd seen the veritable feast laid out across the worktop, he'd been rocked right off his feet and back into their six months together. Felt spoiled and adored and looked after and like it meant something. 

Fuck it, though, he thinks to himself. Maybe it just meant Tommy was hungry. They sure did wear each other out last night. He gathers up the fruit, the bagels, transfers the hot food to a single dish, digs out some saran wrap from one of the boxes Tommy had half unpacked and moves mechanically, covering plates and dishes to keep the food fresh even though he already knows there's almost no chance he'll be able to choke any of it down without seeing Tommy's ghost in the edges of his vision, filling up the kitchen of Buck's new place with missed opportunities, just like he did to the old place.

When the food's condensed and covered, it feels less meaningful. It's just leftovers. God, it's all just leftovers.

Buck opens the fridge to start putting things away and almost drops a plate. 

Because there, in his empty fridge, is a bottle of champagne. He stares for a long, long moment, but it doesn't go anywhere. Doesn't transform itself into a less obvious drink, doesn't magically become a bottle of juice or a carton of milk.

Tommy went to the store and must have paid well over the odds, because that place a few roads over is probably as far as he could have gone, and it's daylight fucking robbery in there, and he bought champagne.

There's no way, Buck thinks, feeling hopeful and heartbroken and angry and confused and regretful and desperate and like he's missed a step in the dark again, there's no way that means nothing.

It means Tommy lied about having a shift. It means Tommy wanted to celebrate. It means Tommy thought they'd have something to celebrate. It means they probably would have tumbled back into bed a couple hours from now, well-fed and a little tipsy. It means Tommy didn't want to leave. 

It means he left anyway, leaving pieces of himself behind like he always does.

Buck takes a breath, moves the bottle aside, and starts loading up the fridge.

[princeguri66]

Leave a mark

MINORS DNI

Monster!John "Soap" Mactavish (with Poly Monster!141 at the end) x Male Reader

Cw: it starts off with Soap but the rest r mentioned and written but not as much as soap, marking with markers, nothing else I believe lmk

Silly thought but like imagine a monster reader who has crazy fast regeneration. Like deep cuts heal in seconds. Maybe you're a ghoul who just has crazy regen, or something like that.

Anyways,

Wouldn't a relationship between Soap, who loves leaving bites and see the aftermath due to his instincts as a werewolf and you who literally heals in seconds be interesting?

He loves getting fucked by you, but everytime he leaves a bit unsatisfied. It's not because you can't make him cum or anything, hell you can pull multiple orgasms from the guy and you have.

It's just that he can't leave satisfied knowing that he left a mark on you. He has bit you so much but the marks just won't stay. With the other members he can clearly see the marks he left on their neck and shoulders, even with Price who due to his dragon blood heals faster but the marks still stay for a day or two.

So everytime you two fuck, even if his ass if filled to the brim and his balls are empty he still whines because he can't leave his mark on you. You're a member of the 141, his pack, so it pains him that he can't put a claim on you like he has with the others.

So one day you get a bit creative.

One night in your room where he's riding on your cock, bouncing up and down while you lay your back on the bed, your hands gripping his hips and slamming him down on you as you cum. He leans down and bites as hard as he can on you as the feeling of you filling him up makes him cum. Pulling away and only being able to whine because he can't even admire his mark before it fades away.

"Aw, is puppy unsatisfied?" You tease and chuckle. And before he could insist that he was, you reached to the bedside table and picked up a red permanent marker, "why don't you mark me with this instead?" You say handing him the marker.

He huffs out a laugh at your little solution, but it's the best you got since you can't really make yourself regenerate slower. So he indulges, testing the marker on the back of your hand, the ink incredibly opaque so it stands out against your skin. Then he draws a bite mark at your neck then adds "Soap's Claim" in big letters, covering the whole left side of your neck.

He leans back, the bright red against your skin and the obvious letters, he finally sighs a sigh of relief.

It doesn't go unnoticed as well (just how he likes it)

The other members of the task force noticing Soap's eyes seem a bit brighter and his tail has been swaying peacefully the whole day. And that's where you enter, neck bare for everyone to see (it's the least you can do) Soap grins, happy to finally be able to show off his claim on you.

And now they want to have their names on your body too.

It's all color coordinated too now, Price who loves to write across your shoulder blades, with words like "Price's hoard" or just a simple "Price" with a heart next to it, it's simple but huge.

Gaz with a bright blue marker who likes to do it on your lower back (because he can also rest his head on your ass) writing something like "Gaz was here" and likes to draw wings on you. (Wing themed tramp stamp with 141 between the wings anyone?)

And Ghost with either white or black who loves to mark your chest, either a simple "ghost" or "Simon Riley" on each pec. Also likes to draw a ghost doodle on top of your heart.

And if you five fuck together, you aren't the only one who ends up having ink on you, but you'd have the most. And when you wake up to find a big arrow pointing to your dick and ass that says "Property of 141" written in multiple colors, you'd wish you could show it off.

[tsukii0002]

That Mc and Lucifer did What?

Mc has returned to the human world, everyone's spirits are down, Devildom is duller, sadder and this is directly reflected in the student council. Especially for the seven demons who shared housing with Mc for a year. What no one knows is what happened the last night Mc was in the Devildom.

Extension: 2k words

Warning: Possible grammatical and spelling errors. This is a fic with comic and fluff overtones, not romantic or explicit content as such.

It had been a couple of weeks since the exchange program ended and Mc and the other exchange students returned to their respective realms. And oddly enough, most students had noticed, especially since the student body wasn't the same since the little human left. Mammon no longer looks for business to cash out, Asmo wasn't partying or even uploading photos!!! Satan remains eerily quiet always with a dull look on his face…. Even the prince seemed less lively.

But undoubtedly those who had noticed Mc's absence the most were the seven brothers. The person who had made the House of Lamentations a home, a warm place full of laughter and activity, had left and the six youngest ones seemed like souls in pain. What no one expected was that the eldest of the brothers, Lucifer, also missed the human terribly, their signs of affection, their laughter and their courage to scold him, Lucifer himself.

Throughout that year he had become deeply attached to the human and had wished to become intimate in their relationship to the point of making a pact with them. The last night Mc and Lucifer had made a pact, they had formed a bond that united them beyond the physical, just as his brothers, he had taken the small and “weak” human as his master. Although of course, he would never admit that, and he was not willing to tell it to the world. No one, not even Diavolo, knew that the two had a pact.

That morning, as was becoming customary, the six demons were lying at the student council table, depleted of energy. Lucifer sighed at the attitude of his brothers, but he could not blame them. Diavolo entered, waving, accompanied by Barbatos as usual, however, a second person was following them that morning.

Asmo: Solomon? What are you doing here??

Solomon: I am glad to see you.

Lucifer was looking at the documents distractedly, Solomon was not of special interest to him and he was not going to try to hide it. Diavolo and Barbatos took their respective places and everyone joined in, because, if Solomon was there, was there any chance of seeing Mc soon?

Diavolo: Solomon has come to deliver a list of the new pacts that the Sorcerer's society has made with some demon in the last year.

Satan: Is there a record of that?

Solomon: Yes, at least from the society, we have to keep a record so things don't get out of control.

Diavolo: We can also check if any demons have gone to the human world without permission.

Levi: Lol, nothing escapes the prince of hell.

Asmo: *glancing at Solomon's list* Doesn't that mean we should be on this list too?

Lucifer looked up at his brother's words, frowning, it was true that in recent times records were made of the pacts demons made with humans, but Diavolo had never asked any of his brothers. Mammon joined Asmo, followed by a curious Satan.

Mammon: Ha, there is no pact as incredible as the one of the great Mammon and Mc.

Satan: Don't talk like you're the only one.

Belphie: *joining his brothers* That's right, Mc has a pact with six of us.

Solomon: Ha, ha I still don't quite believe that a human like Mc has accomplished such a feat.

Lucifer could notice a trace of envy in the annoyed sorcerer's words, and a proud smile came across his face.

Beel: So, should we register our pacts as well?

Diavolo: Mmm, I hadn't thought of that, I think the simple fact that six of the lords of hell have made a pact is enough of a record.

Barbatos: I agree.

Solomon laughed, though he clearly looked pissed, Lucifer held back a chuckle.

Belphie: What do you have to do to make a record?

Diavolo: Well it's an official document, so it has several formalities like the terms of the contract.

Solomon: And the reasons why the demon has agreed to make the pact.

Levi: Only the demon? What about the human?

Solomon: Well the price to be paid by the human is usually recorded, but the reasons for making the pact of the demons are more taken into account, since they are the one who is left in a more burnerable position.

Diavolo: Exactly, usually the demons make a pact for power, because they will receive an extraordinary compensation or sometimes, in an extraordinary way, *looking at the brothers* because said human has something that impresses the demon significantly.

Solomon: Like Barbatos with me.

Barbatos: Fu, fu, I guess, although most of your pacts are either for the purpose of gaining power or to get a piece of your soul.

The brothers looked at each other, it was clear why they had made a pact or at least was clear now, sometimes they wondered if someone else had taken Mc's place, would they have done the same?

Satan: And what do you do with the registry?

Solomon: Basically you classify the pacts, depending on the power involved.

Levi: Power? As the characters of a video game?

Solomon: Yes, it depends on the power of the human and the demon, a human with little magical power, even if he has a pact with a moderately powerful demon, will not be very high in the ranking.

Satan: So the ranking depends on the combination… interesting.

Solomon: That's it, although it also depends on the demon, if they are important demons, the ranking would go up.

Diavolo: For example, your pacts would be at the top, just because you are you.

Mammon: Ha, no one could surpass us.

Asmo: As expected *happy*

Solomon: Ha, ha, ha, exactly because if we were talking about power, your pacts would be at the bottom, since Mc has no magic power.

The brothers looked at Solomon sharply, the sorcerer raised his hands in innocence, laughing. Diavolo looked pleased, took the list and glanced at it.

Diavolo: Thank you for taking the trouble to bring them here, Solomon.

Solomon: No problem.

Diavolo: No doubt Mc has surpassed everything imaginable, they are a human full of surprises, they will go down in history for that, but it is true that they are not a powerful sorcerer, it would not make sense to keep a record to monitor the use of their pacts.

Mammon and Asmo, looked at each other annoyed, no one messed with their human, the others looked at them sideways, complicit. Satan took a couple of blank sheets of paper, Belphie and Beel sat next to him, while he started to write and Levi began to speak.

Levi: Well we begin the record of the pacts of Mc the human!!, the one and only incredible human who has achieved the feat of forging pacts with the lords of hell.

Diavolo laughed loudly, clearly delighted with the situation, Solomon and Barbatos too, they were fascinated by the affection those demons had for the Mc, and how they defended them from any kind of attack, harmless or not, as long as they interpreted it as a threat or disrespect to Mc, the brothers would strike back.

Satan: Uniting their soul in a firm and lasting bond to the soul of the demon due to the virtues that have attracted said demon, starting with...

Copying the whole formal part of one of the records the brothers began to enunciate their reasons for making a pact with Mc.

Mammon: The great Mammon the Avatar of Greed!!! Their first, by the cunning and serenity of knowing how to use the weaknesses of their enemies.

Levi: Uooh! *motivated* followed by Leviathan Avatar of Envy, for the bravery to face any battle even if they have to lose, and the pure heart to be friends with their enemies.

The six brothers seemed suddenly animated, Diavolo approached them, enjoying it too much, Solomon also sat nearby, he knew that many epic stories had emerged that way, magnifying an event that had been much simpler.

Beel: I'm next, Beelzebuh Avatar of Gluttony, *grinning like a puppy* for their strength and conviction to protect the people they love.

Okay, that was heartwarming, everyone felt their heart skip a beat.

Asmo: Me, me!!, Asmodeus Avatar of Lust, for their hidden power and determination to get what they want.

Satan: Followed by Satan Avatar of Warth *smile*, for their wisdom and cunning when facing problems and difficulties, and their ability to seek solutions to any problem

Lucifer smiled, they were blowing things way out of proportion, making great epics out of situations that had been simple, even comical in some cases. He had stopped reading documents long ago, though he kept looking at the papers, all his attention was on his siblings.

Belphie: And finally, Belphegor Avatar of Sloth, for their steadfastness to follow what their heart dictates and the kindness to forgive all those who hurt them.

Everyone fell silent. Somehow, almost everyone present had threatened or even tried to murder Mc, they had undervalued them, they had thought their opinion or whatever they thought weighed less, Diavolo looked at the paper, even he had not taken them seriously for being an ordinary human, Solomon put his hand to his chin.

Barbatos: I think it's a lovely record, full of everyone's feelings.

Solomon: No doubt, no one could have come up with something like it.

Lucifer looked at the words of the documents, Mc had achieved much more than making pacts with his brothers, they had done much more than achieve something that not even the most powerful sorcerer had achieved. Mc had healed his family, they had fixed what they in millennia had not dared to fix, they had accepted each of them with their wounds and their bad things, which were not few, and they had loved them unconditionally. He knew it, they owed Mc much, he much more. He smiled, he could write and write everything he felt for Mc, everything he admired about them, everything they had meant in his life, but it wasn't necessary.

Lucifer: And do not forget, Lucifer Avatar of Pride, for repairing and uniting what no one could.

Absolute silence.

WHAAAAAAAAAAT????!!!!!!

Lucifer covered his ears, suddenly everyone had swarmed to his side, firing all sorts of questions at him. His brothers looked upset, even offended, on the other hand Diavolo was smiling from ear to ear, although there was a slight hint of jealousy in his eyes, and Barbatos was watching the scene genuinely surprised. The funniest thing of all was to see Solomon with his mouth open, and that indescribable expression. Mc had done it, they had done what no wizard, witch or human of any kind had ever accomplished, they had made a pact with Lucifer Morningstar, and not only that, they had completed the task of making a pact with the seven brothers, the seven lords of hell.

Mammon: What do you mean Lucifer? ????!

Levi: Are you an idiot, Mammon? Well you are... not fair Lucifer...

Asmo: Kyaaaa how??!! How did you form a pact??

Beel: He, he, so Lucifer too.

Belphie: When?! I'm sure Mc would have told us!

Satan: And why did you keep it so hidden??

Solomon still hadn't recovered, he put a hand to his head with a half smile, Diavolo was next to him with a similar expression.

Diavolo: I never thought this day would come.

Lucifer felt his chest swell with pride, he really felt his sin in all its splendor. Despite this he tried to look disinterested, returning to his documents.

Lucifer: Well it was the last night.

Belphie: That's why Mc didn't come back??! Because they were making a pact with you???!

Lucifer: Oh *grinning mischievously* we did a lot more than just that.

All: !!!

While all the brothers, Diavolo and Solomon included, began to make a fuss, looking for answers, Lucifer laughed with pleasure, no doubt if there was some kind of competition to measure the pacts with Mc, he had won it. Barbatos, recovered from the surprise, laughed too, it was not unusual to see the brothers so upset but it was certainly gratifying to see the sorcerer like that. A beep made him look at his cell phone, he had sent a message to a certain Lucifer obsessed archangel.

“That Mc and Lucifer did what?”

.

.

It's one of the scenarios I've given the most thought to since I played the first and second seasons four years ago. How everyone found out about Mc and Lucifer's pact. Honestly I have many different situations for this scenario, but this one has been chosen to share with you😂😂😂😂. In the future I might write the other scenarios, going for more spicy content or more angs, etc. Who knows.

Still I hope that if you have made it this far you have enjoyed it, thanks for reading. 🩷

.

.

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x plus size reader

warnings: angst, allusions to smut, major body insecurities, troubles orgasming due to said insecurities, eddie is so incredibly sweet, oral (fem receiving)

a/n: this started out as just a little angsty thing cause i was in my feelings, but it quickly spiraled into something more. while i feel a little nervous sharing it because it directly mirrors my own experience with intimacy issues and self esteem, i hope it can maybe help someone who has felt this same way <3

“— just stop, eds. it’s clearly not gonna happen.”

he can hear the disappointment in your voice as you tug his hand out of your panties. willing away the tears that threaten to spill past your lash line.

you swear something’s wrong with you.

he’s been at this for well over an hour, having to take multiple breaks from when his fingers started to cramp up. your clit feels almost raw, yet numb to the touch. the constant circles he was rubbing against it left you with nothing but discomfort.

“sweetheart—” he whispers, brushing your hair back from your face.

but you quickly bury your face into the pillow, the sheer humiliation makes you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. you already know what he’s going to say, he’s said it more times than you can count.

“save it, please. i don’t want your pity,” your words are slightly muffled, but he hears them loud and clear.

so he stays silent, keeping his chest pressed into your back. he rubs soothing circles over the curve of your hip while you soak his pillow with your tears. each silent shake of your shoulders twists the knife deeper into his gut.

why he hasn’t left is beyond you— anyone else would have.

not only is he stuck with a girlfriend who can’t take her clothes off in front of him, he’s stuck with one who can’t finish either. you can’t imagine how frustrating that must be.

“why are you even still here?” you sniffle, feeling his body stiffen behind you. “this can’t be fun for you.”

he doesn’t answer you, instead moving from his position behind you to roll you onto your back before he slots himself between your thick thighs. and even in the dark of his room you can see how your words have upset him.

“— i’m here because i love you.” he asserts, calloused fingers catching your chin to keep your gaze level with his. “i stay despite how much you continually try to push me away, because you’re everything to me.”

and he catches some more tears that trickle down your cheeks with his thumb. he unintentionally swipes them over your lips and they taste almost bitter on your tongue when you take a shuddering breath in.

“i just.. i feel like this is too good to be true— that you’re too good to be true.” you voice is barely above a whisper now, “that once you see everything… you’ll change your mind.”

his eyes slip shut and an almost painful look crosses over his features.

“baby,” he sighs, carefully taking your hand to guide it up his bare torso. you can feel the uneven flesh beneath your fingertips, a reminder that you almost lost him not so long ago. “you could grow a third head and sprout a tail and i would love you just the same.”

that image has you giggling softly, the sound causing his eyes to flutter back open. eddie grins down at you, bringing your hand up to press a gentle kiss to the back of it.

“there’s my girl,” he hums.

and despite the worry that still lingers in the back of your head, your body automatically reacts to his gentle words. you shift your hips beneath his own, now acutely aware of how uncomfortable the damp cotton feels against your skin.

eddie can see that spark of need return to your eyes, his head tilting down to nudge your nose with his own. he inhales your soft gasp when he carefully presses his hips down into yours.

“can i try something? if you don’t like it, i promise we can stop.”

he waits before making another move, lips hovering over yours until he hears your soft confirmation. then he starts to descend lower.

his lips press against the cotton of your sleep shirt, across the soft pudge of your belly. and you hold you breath when his fingers graze over the hem of it, slowly beginning to push it up your plush thighs.

“eddie i—”

he must hear the alarm in your voice as he stops, warm eyes gazing up at you from where he’s positioned between your legs.

“do you want me to stop?” he asks.

the small shake of your head encourages him to continue, pushing the shirt up only until he can see the outline of your panties.

“we’ll keep this on, okay?” he motions to your shirt.

“okay,” you breathe.

you feel your body is on fire, every nerve ending like a live wire. and you practically jolt when you feel his lips press against your damp underwear, his tongue licking a slow stripe between your clothed folds.

“oh,” you sigh and you can feel his deep chuckle rumble against your core.

so he does it again, enjoying the breathy whine that tumbles past your lips. eddie’s fingers slide up your thighs, sneaking underneath the elastic of your underwear as he continues his actions. going slow enough to get you used to the feeling, but firm enough so you feel each drag of his tongue.

after your first failed attempt from earlier you feel ravenous, now bucking your hips up against his mouth. and your boyfriend seems to get the hint.

“you want them off, sweetheart?”

and you nod almost frantically, any feelings of insecurity pushed to the wayside as your desire slams back into you at full force.

not needing to be told again, eddie carefully guides the fabric down your thighs. tossing them next to you on the bed before he coaxes your legs to rest on his shoulders. even in the dark he can see the curly hairs that cover your mound and the sticky strings of desire when he guides your folds apart with his fingers.

you hear a soft curse leave his mouth, his hair tickling your inner thighs when he leans down further to guide his tongue through your slick.

“so fuckin’ pretty, baby.” he coos.

you gasp aloud at the sensation when the muscle delves deeper, dipping inside your entrance before dragging more slick up to your sensitive nub.

everything feels more heightened like this— more intimate. and you swear you’re more in love with him now than you ever been.

so you let your body sink further into the mattress while he tastes you properly for the first time. his own hips rutting against the bed in tandem with each glide of his tongue. the noises he’s making are downright filthy, the vibrations only aiding in bringing you closer to that release.

it’s right within your grasp, all you have to do is reach out and take it.

the edges of your vision start to blur while your fingers card themselves through his curls to hold him in place. and that wave that’s been building up inside you finally crashes over the surface.

your shaky cry of his name has him moaning into you, his hips twitching as he spills into the fabric of his boxers. and he doesn’t mind when your trembling thighs tighten around his head, keeping him locked into place between your hips.

not that eddie would ever complain.

you finally release him when the feeling becomes too much, thighs settling onto the bed when you tug at his curls. he lifts his head then, eyes mirroring your half lidded gaze. his slick-smeared lips shine in the moonlight that streams through his bedroom window and you feel another rush of emotion flow through you.

“thank you,” you whisper, voice cracking.

he brings your knuckles back to his lips, pressing a wet kiss onto each one. satisfied with his work, eddie crawls back up your body, pressing tender kisses until he reaches your lips. you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him even closer when your mouth do meet.

but that’s when you feel it. the warm, sticky mess that has soaked into his boxers and smeared across his hairy thighs.

“did you just— ?” you ask in almost disbelief, wide eyes meeting his own when he pulls back to give you a cheeky grin.

another gentle roll of his hips has you gasping aloud, the action pressing his mess further into your own as he chuckles deeply.

“damn right, i did.”

[pearlymel]

Make up— Alhaitham

*･゜ﾟSummery : Alhaitham chased after you because he refuses to leave unresolved issues between you, talking it out in his house can't be the worst idea, right?

Wc : 2.4k

Warning(s) : NSFW, fem!reader, exes to lovers, reader has committment issues, biting, unprotected sex, ōral (m! recieving), cūm swallowing, creampie, it's sweet and he's needy, petname mentioned (sweetheart).

Notes : someone get this man out of my head smh.

It was a cowardly act, really. How you ran away in the middle of breaking up with your boyfriend—well, ex boyfriend now. If he even got the message and was not left confused with a hurricane swirling his head with different emotions all at once.

You never wanted to break up with him in the first place, you were ignorant to his feelings. Overall sensitive to everything. You think the scribe deserves better than what you have to offer because you are afraid of commitment.

Alhaitham thinks he caught a glimpse of your face and figure among the crowd. And his body immediately goes on flight mode.

Eyes rapidly looking around the crowd, unable to focus on how busy it was today. He can't even remember why today has to be so busy out of all the days, then it clicked.

Sabzeruz festival was around the corner.

Alhaitham pushes past the people, his eyes searching around him for any sign of you at all, but he doesn’t see you. He starts moving a little faster, a little more impatiently.

“Move.” He nearly growls lowly when someone is in his way, pushing past them and looking around some more, ignoring the curses being thrown at the scribe.

Where are you, where are you?

There.

There you were. Standing next to one of the stalls to buy yourself a cold drink for this hot weather. Looking completely unbothered, yet he could clearly see how swollen your under eyes looked.

After a moment, he finally starts to approach you, his eyes fixated on you, unable to look away even for a second.

He stops next to you, standing right beside you and so incredibly close. He can smell the flowery scent of your perfume, and he’s so close he can practically touch you, but Alhaitham doesn’t dare to move.

You don't notice the man next you who's suspiciously close right away, but when you do turn your head to your side. A gasp leaves your lips and your drink instantly drops from your hand, his own hand acted on it's own, grabbing your wrist to pull you back. To prevent from the liquid to splash all over you.

"Careful." He gently scolds you, yet his hand is slightly shaking from feeling your skin against his. It was always comforting.

"Alhaitham?" He feels how your fingers tremble under his touch, and he feels how you look around, probably searching for a way to get away from him. Again.

“I just want to talk.” he states, his voice a soft, gentle tone that belies how he actually feels.

He’s itching to pin you against the nearest wall and tell you all the things he’s been thinking so hard about, but he controls himself.

"We already talked."

“You ran.” He replies back in disagreement, his voice a tone rougher than he intended it to be. He takes a deep breath before he continues, hoping you would notice the pain behind his words.

“We can’t keep going in circles like this, we need to talk this out properly.”

You only sigh back, your gaze shifting down to your feet. "We already broke up."

Oh he’s about to snap. He’s about to rip his goddamn hair out.

“We didn't break up.” He huffs out, and his tone is harsh and frustrated because he still refuses to believe that you don’t want him to be a part of your life anymore.

“You’re the one who ran away.”

"I get it, I'm a coward."

Archons, he hates the way you keep belittling and insulting yourself. Alhaitham can feel the anger and frustration beginning to build in him, but he’s trying his best to keep his voice level and not to start yelling at you in the middle of the market.

“Stop that, please." He begs you in a pleading tone, the pads of his thumb rubbing slow circles around your wrist.

“You’re not a coward, so stop calling yourself one.”

"I ran instead of fixing things. What do you call that?" You hiss at him, but there you go again, being overly sensitive and insulting yourself at every inconvenience.

"... Sorry."

His grip on your hand slightly tightens when you try to apologize, and he has to fight back a sigh before he can force himself to answer.

“I’d call it a ‘poor coping mechanism’.” He replies, his tone flat and almost sarcastic.

You look up at him apologetically, He can see that you’re about to say it again, but thankfully, you bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from doing so. And he’s a little grateful, he doesn’t know how much more he can take.

Alhaitham sighs in exhaustion, and he reaches up a hand to run it through his hair before he speaks again.

“We need to talk. Not here, somewhere.. private.”

Private. Surely private meant some secluded corner or outside where no people would be close enough to listen?

So why were you in his home? With Him hugging you so tightly from behind because he misses you?

“Don’t move.” He lowly mumbles against your hair when he feels you trying to wiggle away.

He squeezes his arms around your body, pulling you even closer against his chest, as close as he physically can, like he’s trying to meld your bodies together completely.

"I hurted you, didn't i?"

He lets out a low huff in your hair at your statement, a soft yet bitter sounding laugh. It hurts more than he’d like to admit, because you did hurt him, deeply.

“Yes.” He replies truthfully, not making any effort to lie to you. “You left and it hurt.”

It’s like a dream, like a vision, having you so close again after days of solitude and loneliness. After hours and days of missing you.

He takes in every feature of your face when he turns you around to face him, every inch of your eyes, your nose, your lips. The shape and contour of your face is etched into his head, all memorised. and he can’t get enough of it, and he wants so badly to pull you into another one of his bone-crushing hugs again.

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I never intended to break up." Your hand lifts up to brush the strands of grey hair away from his eyes before gently holding one side of his face.

"I swear." You look at him with determination, then you remember the words he wants to hear so badly.

"You're my lover," you say, "i need you in my life."

Alhaitham leans down to bury his face into the crook of your neck, and he just breathes in the familiar scent of your skin again. So impossibly relieved that you’re here in his arms again.

"Will you forgive me?"

“Can you promise me that you won’t run away again if we have a fight?” His hands start trailing up the length of your back, the tips of his fingers tracing the bumps of your spine as he speaks, his lips moving against the skin of your neck with every word.

“Don’t run away, talk to me. We’ll talk, and we’ll come up with a solution together.”

"Mhm, i promise." He feels you melt into his embrace, completely surrendering yourself under his touch, and he lets himself revel in the feeling of his body pressed against yours once again. It’s like his brain went completely empty of any thoughts, just leaving pure contentment and a feeling of comfort behind. And so, he lets his body do the thinking for him.

Alhaitham grabs a hold of your thighs in one strong grip, and he lifts you, effortlessly hoisting you up into his arms, and you gasp.

He hoists you up against his chest until your legs are wrapped around his hips, one of his arms curled around your thighs, and the other under your ass, supporting your weight as he starts carrying you to the bed.

One of your hands grabs at his shoulders to keep your balance, and he can’t resist smiling a little when he sees the surprised look on your face.

“Don't worry.” He reassures you, he reaches the bed with several long strides, and his grip around your thighs tightens as he lays you down on the mattress.

"I want to make it up to you," you look at him through half-lidded eyes the moment you lay down, your knee attempting to slowly rub at his growing erection, earning a hiss from him.

"Y-you don't have to, i was just planning that we cuddle—"

"Then why are you hard?" You see how his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly, and he avoids your gaze shyly.

He sits on his knees above you as he watches how your start unzipping his pants, urging him to come closer until his knees were at the sides of your head as you're met with his leaky tip face to face.

It's intimidating, you forget just how big he was. You gently wrap a hand around the base, giving the tip a few kitten licks before your lips grip him snugly and your tongue flicks against the underside of his cock, coaxing low curses from the Scribe.

He can't look down, he doesn't want to. Your expressions gets him off so fast everytime, and when you cough, he involuntarily grips your hair, although still careful to not pull so harshly even when be wanted to so bad.

Alhaitham’s need increases, so is his pace. The desire to cum growing more and more insistent. He bites his lower lip, his grip on your head tightening. “Goddammit,” he manages to groan, head thrown back with his expression all fucked out as he thrusts slowly into your mouth. He brings a fist to cover his mouth to prevent himself from whimpering, to prevent himself from panting so needly like a dog,

“You’re going to make me cum.” You're doing good, better than good, he doesn’t want to rush, but he can feel the implosion building. It's about to go off, and there’s no stopping it.

But when he feels you suck him so eagerly, it makes him part his lips to moan with his eyes closed, grabbing a fistful of your hair and thrusting into your throat greedily to chase his orgasm, the vibrations of your moans is what makes Alhaitham's try to pull out from your mouth, but your tight hold around him makes him fail to do so before he spilled all of his spent into your tongue.

Although he was quick to pull out after, grabbing a tissue from the bedside drawer for you to spit out.

But when you gulp it all in front of him, his eyes widen, the tissue almost slipping from his hand. He doesn’t know what to say or feel, "You didn't have to," He wipes the corner of your lips with the tissue, dabbing your lips clean.

"i love you." You utter out, looking like an absolute angel right before his eyes. "I love you," he repeats back, pecking your lips before pushing you back gently on the bed, prying your legs apart.

Your pants and panties were quick to be discarded to the side, he stares at your entrance, wet, inviting, and a little intimidated by the size he's about to shove inside.

He gently strokes your inner thighs, kissing your outer folds, tasting your arousal, while his thumb rubs circles around your clit. He hums when you gasp, when both of your gazes meet and all he sees his eagerness in your eyes.

Your body squirms, urging him to take you, spearing that tightness with his girth. But he's patient. Oh, how patient he is. Or trying to be, at least.

Alhaitham lines himself up with your hole, and as he looks down at you, you can see the yearning, the want, the need in his eyes.

He keeps a tight hold on your thighs as he slowly, deliberately sinks into you, watching the arch of your back, listening to the low, whimpering sounds escaping your lips.

His mouth is on your neck and collarbone, nipping, kissing, leaving marks of his claim on your skin, "missed my girl,"

Your body is tight around him, and it's not easy, but the Scribe has no intention of stopping until he's had his fill. The gasps and whimpers of discomfort, the pleasure that comes after, the lust—it’s all music to his ears.

"I-i've missed you too."

Alhaitham watches as you cling to him, the words you say stirring something in him. He hands grip on your hips now, and he can't help but smile into your neck.

He's thrusting into you deeper, the feeling of your tightness around him driving him wild. It's a sweet, torturous dance you both share. Every time he thrusts, he's sure to hit the right spot, making you moan and squirm.

He lifts his head to kiss you, kissing you with fervor, his tongue dueling with yours. He could taste the bitter remnants of himself on your tongue, but he wants to taste you, feel your pleasure, and with the way your walls are clenching around his cock, he won't have to wait much longer.

Alhaitham's thrusts become faster, harder, and he can feel the familiar heat building. His hand leaves your hip, and his fingers find your clit in a synchronization of the cries of his name. He's determined to make you come.

"Cum for me, sweetheart," he growls into your ear. "Let me feel it." He wants to watch you unravel in his arms, to see the expression on your face.

And you do, almost instantly, it makes your eyes roll back to the back of your head as you hold onto him while thrusting your hips back into him.

Not long after, he couldn't hold back any longer. It’s too much, the tightness around his cock, the sight of your body trembling beneath him, the taste of your lips, the scent of you. He explodes, filling you up, his seed a testament to the pleasure he’s found.

He collapses on top of you, panting, his heartbeat racing. The room is filled with the sound of their ragged breathing, and in that moment, there’s nothing but the two of them, basking in their shared pleasure.

After a while, Alhaitham slowly pulls out of you, his eyes hold yours, the two of you naked and tangled, laying in sweat. He moves his body off yours to clean you both up. He’ll make some tea, something to calm your nerves, then you'll talk for real this time.

[affectionatecorpse]

I'm once again getting overly philosophical over horror movies, so here's a study of the death angels from A Quiet Place as observed by a very enthusiastic animal loving veterinarian.

Every time people talk about death angels, it is, understandably, about how violent they are. These creatures are brutal and merciless, and will tear apart anything that makes too much noise. Hence the title of the movie.

Death angels are frankly terrifying, and show no empathy towards the creatures of the planet they invaded. No living thing is safe from them.

... so here's why they COULD be--

Look. Death angels are simply not suited for our planet. It's a noisy, chaotic place full of noisy, chaotic animals. From humans, to raccoons, to birds, to cats, nearly everything in our world is a potential trigger for a noise sensitive animal such as these.

But that's exactly what they are. Animals. And no one seems to remember that fact. People talk about them as though they themselves are sentient, anthropomorphic monsters, but the way these creatures act mimic many real life animals. Animals that don't belong here, but are trying to survive here. On a noisy planet covered in water, which they despise and cannot swim in.

Death angels are completely blind by nature, as seen in many other creatures such as cavefish, moles, and my personal favourite, the olm. Due to a lack of sight, they very clearly use echolocation in the film, to scan their surroundings and... well, not get dead. But echolocation is far from their only tool, as their ears are the strongest asset they have.

Their ears are INCREDIBLY sensitive. Just the slight ticking of an egg timer when heard from their perspective in the first film, is like a pounding drum in their ear. This is fine in a naturally quiet planet, but if a very subtle tick is that loud, then imagine the rest of the noise. Screaming. Explosions. Crashing. Little toy planes. Holy CRAP, that's gotta hurt.

Sounds that loud would definitely cause extreme hearing problems from pressure over time, and easily result in lifelong illnesses and disabilities such as deafness, infection, and so forth, if not stopped. It's going to be painful. It's literally bursting their ear drums inside their heads, and you can't explain to an animal why it hurts. You cannot rationalise with wildlife about treatment and self care. An injured and scared animal is always going to turn hostile, no matter how docile they may be normally. You can't explain to a lion with a knife in it's belly that you can stop the pain if it just doesn't attack you. You can't explain to a death angel that it needs to go somewhere more isolated instead of just destroying the source of the noise to shut it up.

Going to backtrack here a sec. Remember how I mentioned echolocation being another asset this creature has? Which means the slightest movement, the tiniest breath, can immediately allow you to be seen by it. With ears that good, too? It can see you from ages away. It knows you're there. Which means they DON'T attack for sport.

'Evil' is a concept rarely seen in nature. Yes, a lot of humans can be evil. And yes, many creatures can be too. Animals hunt for sport as well. Cats, for example! Although even then, I wouldn't describe it as evil. Calling the death angels evil implies they're attacking out of malicious intent, which just isn't true. In moments of panic, they'll destroy. But they are fully aware of humans around them.

Humans need to breathe, and can't stay perfectly still very easily. The death angels would be able to see our main cast at several points, even when they're being quiet. They don't attack whenever they locate a sign of life. For example, the scene in the basement. Being that close, whether the water was running or not, that alien absolutely would've heard Evelyn and the baby's sharp breaths. It didn't care. It was clicking at them almost curiously before it heard the bang of the silo, to which it ditched them to stop the sound.

This scene is a great example of why they don't kill for sport. Injured and young animals are especially easy prey for a creature built so strong and nimble. Evelyn is shown to be terrified of the mere presence of this thing, but it never actually does anything in the scene. It moves about. Ignores her movements in the flooding water. Investigates the baby. Clicks curiously at her while she backs away. It moves slowly and on all fours, when we know while aggressive, they will stand up on their hind legs (unless sprinting) and move very fast.

This implies it was in... well, not a submissive position, but a nonthreatening one. It wasn't baring it's teeth (as best it could), it had it's claws tucked up and unused, and was in no way in a primed-to-attack mentality. Until the silo made a loud bang. And even then, it could've quickly sliced up the two in the basement before running off, but it DIDN'T. It just left, without a moment of hesitation.

Let's also acknowledge the anatomy.

This is a carnivore. With sharp teeth for ripping apart prey, sharp claws for defence, and thick armour for protection from it's natural climate, as well as strong, long legs for running, this is absolutely a meat eater. The fact it's so well equipped makes me wonder if their natural prey is just as dangerous as them, which is why they have such tough skin. Or if they themselves have something above them in the food chain.

They seem to be pack animals, as usually others aren't far behind when one is about. Such as the trio by the Abbott house, the few at the docks, the ones by Emet's hideout, and even that group sliding down the building in the Day One clip I keep seeing as a gif. With their knack for running included, I wonder if they function like lions? Blending into their environment back home, clicking to hear prey, then the whole pack going on the chase when their target is vulnerable, in a way.

I got distracted. My point was, in a year, all the bodies from past victims vanished. All those people in the town who were swiped left and right just vanished from the town. They couldn't have decomposed in such short time, which means something moved them when it was safe. Something like a carnivore needing food after it felt comfortable in the silent aftermath. The argument that they do it for sport is one I see all the time, and it's just not true.

Everything needs to eat. Carnivores need to eat. Animals need to protect themselves from suspected danger. They never eat on screen because whenever they're on screen, they're surrounded by noise and are DISTRESSED. Have you ever had a sick pet? Most of the time, it won't eat when it's ill because it's too stressed, uncomfortable or in too much pain. When having their ear drums assaulted, a death angel isn't going to sit down with a cup of tea and a grilled cheese. Also, I won't add it because there's blood, but in the scene with the old man screaming in the woods, after it attacks, you can actually see it go back on all fours and sniff about the aftermath, like a hungry predator catching prey to eat. This was probably the first and currently only on screen proof of my claim.

By all means, not all animals are meant to be tamed. Jordan Peele's Nope said that best. Yet I can't help but wonder about the individual. Every animal is completely unique. Some will tolerate more than others. Due to their realistic nature and the similarities to actual animals, in specific circumstances, could they be befriended?

Anyway keep an eye out for A Quiet Place 4 where someone has a pet one that wears doggy ear protectors and accepts meat in exchange for pets-- /j

[russo-woso]

Keep it a secret || Beth mead x Williamson!reader

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Warning ACL injury

Summary You tear your ACL but amidst the chaos, can you and your girlfriend keep your relationship a secret?

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It had been a thrilling match to say the least.

England had been playing against South Africa in Coventry.

The bright lights of the stadium shone on the grass, the stadium lit up with hopeful fans.

You looked up after the whistle had blown to indicate substitutions.

You watched as Beth, your girlfriend, left the pitch alongside your sister, Leah.

You and Beth had been dating for just over six months but had decided to keep it all a secret.

That way you didn’t have to face the chaos from your teammates or the media.

And it also meant that you got some time with Beth before your sister threatens to kill her, the usual Leah liked to do to your past partners.

Your cheeks reddened as Beth sent you a wink once she’d sat down.

The game soon carried on the game soon became your main priority again.

As a defender, you were constantly running up and down to stop the ball getting to the box.

You were so focused on the match, putting your body on the line to stop the ball getting by.

So when South Africa had a perfect ball through, you ran as fast as you could to catch up but your hopes of stopping a goal came tumbling down when you ended up tumbling down.

A searing pain ran through your body as you grabbed your knee.

You smacked the floor in anger, your face buried in the floor.

You knew what you had done, you’d heard enough description of it from Leah and Beth.

Alessia was the first to you, your best friend always knowing when your injuries were bad.

She waved the medics immediately, sending leah a panicked look.

You felt a hand on your back and turned to look at Beth.

Beth had clearly ran from the bench to see if you were okay.

“Beth?”

“I’m here, love.”

“I’ve done it. I know I have.” You cried, grabbing ahold of Beth’s hand as she moved your head into her lap.

In that moment, Beth didn’t care if she was revealing your relationship. She just wanted to help you and you didn’t care either, wanting to be as close to Beth.

The medics brought the stretcher on, helping you on before carrying you off, Beth staying by your side, kissing your head.

You went straight to the hospital, knowing your mum was in the crowd so she could drive you home.

Beth and Leah went with, Leah not saying a word.

Once the scans were done, you were sent to a room where the three of you sat patiently.

“I’m gonna go grab some coffee, want one too?” Beth asked, standing up from her seat.

“Please.” You whispered, sending her a weak smile.

You looked over at Leah, expecting her to say something but instead, you were met with silence.

She was gazing out the window to the city that lay outside.

“So… you and Beth?”

“Yeah… listen Le, I’m sorry. We were going to tell you at some point. We just wanted some privacy to explore what we wanted with each other first.” You explained, watching Leah nod.

“I’m your big sister, Y/N, I thought we told each other everything?”

“We do, Leah, I promise. Just not Beth, we wanted to have a bit of time together alone without anyone knowing. Mum doesn’t even know.” You continued your explanation.

“Does Alessia know?”

You shook your head, Leah sending you a surprised look.

“If Alessia doesn’t know then you really must have wanted to keep it private.” Leah said, knowing you tell Alessia everything and anything.

“We really wanted to. I’m sorry.”

“Are you happy?”

“So happy. Le, Beth makes me laugh, she makes me smile when I’m sad, she’s just…incredible. There’s no true word that explains how happy she makes me. Please give her a chance, I know you’re protective but you know Beth, she’s a good one.”

“I’ll still have words with her, but if you’re really that happy then I think I can give her a chance.” Leah told you, sending you a smile.

“I would get up and hug you but I don’t really think I can.” You joked but before you could even finish, Leah had jumped up and wrapped her arms around you.

“Just think, if you and Beth get married, me and her would be sister in laws.”

“You would.” You agreed, watching Beth walk into the room.

“Hi, sister in law.” Leah said

“She’s okay with it?” Beth questioned, looking at you.

You nodded excitedly, watching a massive smile appear on her face.

“You’re still getting the big sister talk though, Mead.”

“Of course I am.”

[libraryofgage]

Librarian Steve :)

Was talking to a friend about people (specifically this one kid that gives such Dustin energy hfjdks) I meet at work (I'm a librarian) and that evolved into this plot bunny so:

Librarian Steve, rock star Eddie, and the 5 times Steve pretends he doesn't know who Eddie is while they flirt + 1 time Steve reveals he knew about Eddie's rock star status the whole time

There is also, definitely, at some point, going to be a second part where the kids keep just barely missing Eddie and refuse to believe Steve is actually dating anyone but especially not Eddie Munson of all people

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't

One

Steve stares at the man on the other side of the circulation desk. He's wearing a Metallica shirt, ripped jeans, a guitar pick necklace, clunky rings on each finger, and an expression that says he's bracing himself for something painful.

Here's the thing: Steve knows who Eddie Munson is. It's hard to listen to alternative rock or punk or any other genre like that and not know Eddie Munson. It's hard to be a librarian who works primarily with kids in middle school and high school, all going through that painful, angsty phase that they express through music, and not know Eddie Munson.

So, yeah, Steve takes one look at the admittedly (incredibly) attractive guy and immediately knows he's Eddie Munson. Like, of Corroded Coffin fame. Of Rock n Roll Hall of Fame fame. Of platinum-level album sales fame. Of--okay, his point has probably been made.

Anyway, yeah, Steve knows this is Eddie Munson, and while he'd love to say he's a fan and smile at Eddie and maybe ask for an autograph, Steve also grew up as a Small Town Rich Kid. So he knows that look on Eddie's face, the one that says he's bracing himself for someone to start fawning over him and potentially ask for uncomfortable favors or his number or any other request that's definitely crossing the line into invasive.

Steve easily makes the decision to pretend he doesn't recognize Eddie. So, he puts on his customer service smile and says, "Hello, how can I help you?"

The sheer relief in Eddie's eyes is more than enough to tell Steve he made the right choice. "Right, uh, this is my first time here," Eddie says, shifting slightly before placing his hands on the counter and drumming his fingers.

"Oh, congratulations," Steve says, his tone and smile becoming more genuine. "Did you come here to print something?"

Eddie shakes his head, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a library card. "My friend has, like, a...hold? Yeah, a hold on something and asked me to pick it up," he explains.

Steve nods once and takes the card when Eddie offers it. He scans it and watches the computer load for a few seconds before opening an account window for someone named Asher Katz. "Since you aren't the cardholder," Steve says, navigating to the "Additional Information" tab in the account, "I'll need you to tell me the four-digit pin or code word connected to the account."

He clearly wasn't expecting that requirement, and Eddie flounders for a moment. "Is that a requirement?" he asks.

With an apologetic smile, Steve nods. "Yeah," he says, stretching out the word as he tries to think. "Oh, you could also call him and have him tell me the pin. Then I could confirm that it's okay for you to check out materials on his behalf."

"This is a lot of hoops for a book," Eddie says, frowning slightly as he takes out his phone.

"We have to make sure people's materials are secure. Also, we have to keep track of what people check out for the library's stats report at the end of each quarter."

Eddie looks like he understands about half of that, and Steve once again flashes an apologetic smile. After a few taps on the screen, Eddie glances around the library, ensuring it's empty, before putting the phone on speaker. The moment it picks up, and before Asher can speak, Eddie says, "Hey, man, I'm at the library. Can you tell, uh--" Eddie looks up to check Steve's nametag "--Steve what your pin is so I can check that book out."

A few seconds pass before Steve hears a sigh on the other end of the phone. "1234," Asher says.

"Seriously?" Eddie asks.

Steve glances at the account page, confirms the pin, and nods. "Could you also provide me with your code word?"

"Password."

"Dude!" Eddie says, staring at the phone like he's once again being reminded that his friend is a dumbass.

Steve checks the account again and nods once more. "Great, thank you. Could you confirm that...," Steve trails off, looking at Eddie expectantly.

Eddie blinks like he forgot Steve didn't know who he was and hesitates before clearing his throat and quietly saying, "Eddie."

"Thanks," Steve says, flashing another smile before looking at the phone and continuing, "Can you confirm that Eddie here is allowed to check out holds on your behalf?"

"Uh, yeah, that's fine, man."

"Great, thank you," Steve says, checking the card number once more before heading to the hold shelf behind the desk. He crouches and starts scanning stickers on the spines for Asher's last name and the last four digits of his number. Behind him, he hears Eddie say goodbye, his voice sounding a little strained for reasons Steve can't really figure out at the moment.

He finds the right book after a few moments and pulls it off the shelf. "Here it is," he says, walking over to the desk and pulling up the check-out window on his computer. He scans the library card once more, carefully pulls the sticker off the spine, and scans the book.

"It's due in two weeks, but if your friend needs more time, he can just give the library a call," Steve explains, passing the book and card back to Eddie with a smile. "Was there anything else I could do for you?"

Eddie just stares at him for a few seconds, his cheeks looking a little pinker than before, and Steve wonders if the building's A/C somehow gave up on life. Again. But he can hear it running so that definitely isn't it. "Uh, nope, that's it," Eddie says, gripping the book tightly in his hands, his rings pressing into the cover. "Thanks, Steve, appreciate it."

"Of course, man. Have a good day," Steve says with a genuine smile and wave as Eddie heads toward the door.

With a slightly awkward wave back, Eddie walks out the door, glancing back over his shoulder once before the door completely shuts. Once the library is empty again, Steve hears the door to the backroom open, and Robin practically slides up to the counter, leaning onto it next to him.

"Was that?" she asks. Steve instantly translates the question in his head: Was that Eddie fucking Munson?

"Yep."

"And did you?"

And did you just pretend you didn't know him?

"Yep."

"Did he?"

Did he catch on?

"Nope."

"Do you think?"

Do you think he'll be back?

Steve shrugs, glancing over at her. "Don't know," he says, pausing for a moment before adding, "He's hotter in person."

Robin barks out a laugh. "Maybe you'll actually get to flirt next time," she says, and Steve grins at her, kind of hoping she's right.

Two

Eddie returns exactly two weeks later, and Steve is lucky enough to once again be working a desk shift when he walks through the door. He's wearing a Nine Inch Nails shirt this time, and his hair is pulled back into a messy bun with strands escaping to frame his face. He goes up to the counter, focused on Steve and completely ignoring Robin sitting at another computer, and sets the book down. "I wanna return this. And get a library card for myself," he says.

Steve can't help a clearly amused smile as he takes the book and scans it in. "Do you have an ID with you?" he asks, sliding the book along the desk to rest next to Robin.

He ignores the glare she shoots at him before grabbing the book to place it on a reshelving cart for later.

"Yeah, do I need anything else?" Eddie asks.

As Steve shakes his head, he leans over to grab a library card application from a small organizer. He places it in front of Eddie and passes him a pen as well. "Just fill that out," he says, leaning forward on the counter as Eddie picks up the pen.

"So, uh, what can I do with a library card?" Eddie asks, glancing up at Steve briefly before focusing on carefully writing. His letters are blocky but awkward like he's consciously thinking about how he's writing each one.

Maybe he just doesn't want to risk his writing being recognized, too? From what Steve remembers of the signatures he's seen, Eddie's handwriting is fairly distinctive.

"You can borrow up to 75 materials at one time, place items on hold, use the computers, and you get one dollar of printing credit that renews each day," Steve lists, tilting his head slightly as he watches Eddie write.

"That's it?"

Steve snorts, raising an eyebrow at Eddie when he looks up. "Oh, that's not enough for you?" he asks, unable to help a slight grin, "You can use it at any library within our system, too. So you'll still have options if you get banned from this one."

"Oh? And what would I be banned for?" Eddie asks, his writing pausing long enough to meet Steve's gaze once more and smirk at him.

"I wonder," Steve says, not missing the way Eddie's gaze drops to his lips for less than a second before moving back up.

Holy shit, he's flirting with Eddie Munson.

"I can also help you find books to read based on what you've liked previously," Steve adds, somewhat clumsily pulling back from the flirting. It's only Eddie's second time here, and he doesn't want to let himself get too caught up in...well, Eddie when there's no guarantee he'll be back.

Eddie hums softly as he looks back at the application. "Oh? What would you recommend for me?" he asks.

"What's your favorite book?"

"The Hobbit."

"What did you like about it?"

"The adventure and the characters."

"Do you prefer fantasy? What about sci-fi?"

"Yeah, those are fine."

Steve hums softly, thinking as Eddie sets the pen down and slides the application to him. "Thanks. I also need to see your ID," Steve says, opening a drawer in the desk and pulling out a library card. He scans it, a new account window popping up and waiting to be filled out.

"What's the ID for?" Eddie asks.

"To confirm that you live in our service area," Steve explains, taking the ID when Eddie offers it. He glances at the photo briefly, confirming that it is, in fact, Eddie Munson, and then double-checks the address. It matches what Eddie wrote on the application, so he nods and slides the ID back to him.

"That's it?"

Steve nods, beginning to type Eddie's information into the account page. "Yeah, that's it," he says, glancing up and smiling at Eddie, "Anyway, I think you'll enjoy the Murderbot Diaries. It's about a cyborg that hacks its control module, thinks about maybe going on a killing spree, and then discovers TV instead. It then just goes on adventures through space while fighting, like, capitalism and corporations."

"Sounds pretty badass," Eddie says, leaning forward on the counter like he wants to get a peek at the computer. "How long is it?"

"It's mostly novellas, so they're quick reads."

"Got any copies here?"

Steve hums, entering the last of Eddie's information. "I can check," he says, "but first, I need a code word for your account. Like, if you forget your pin or have someone else come pick up a hold, this word will confirm it's you."

Eddie thinks for a few seconds, his gaze dropping to Steve's nametag once more. "Stevie," he says.

Steve's fingers falter, accidentally typing an incomprehensible key smash into the information field. He glances up at Eddie. "...as in Stevie Nix? Don't forget, this has to be something you'll remember," he says, raising an eyebrow.

With a playful grin and a wink, Eddie says, "Well, I think you're pretty unforgettable, Stevie."

A beat passes as Steve stares at Eddie, feeling a rush of heat to his cheeks. He clears his throat and looks back at the computer, hesitating for a second more before typing "Stevie" into the field and saving the account. When he's done, he slides the card to Eddie along with a Sharpie. "That's your card, please sign on the back."

He notices Eddie stiffen at the request, but Steve doesn't comment. As he instead searches the library's catalog, he tries to ignore the sheer panic coming from Eddie as he tries to figure out how to sign the card. Eventually, Eddie picks up the Sharpie and writes his name in the same awkward, blocky writing he used for the application.

"So," Steve says, getting Eddie's attention once more, "we don't have any copies of the first book here, but I can put it on hold for you. It should be here in around four days, and you'll get an email when it's available. Does that work?"

Eddie nods as he places the Sharpie down. "Sure, I'm happy to swing by and pick it up," he says, his tone and smile and the playful look in his eyes telling Steve there are more reasons than that for him to come by the library.

And as Steve places the book on hold for Eddie, he can't help a tiny, eager smile.

Three

The D8 sits innocently on the counter in front of Steve, marbled colors of blue and red with streaks of gold to complement the gold-painted numbers. Steve had immediately recognized it as Will's when he was cleaning the meeting room, and he knew the kid was probably losing his mind right now searching for it. He feels kind of bad knowing Will is going to lose all hope of finding it before his next visit to the library.

At the same time, though, he's looking forward to the expression of sheer joy on Will's face when he next comes in and Steve gives it back. Maybe it'll even score him a bonus point with Mike, and he'll be a little less of an asshole. Though, knowing Mike like he does, Steve is sure he'll just get jealous that Steve made Will smile like that instead of himself.

That kid is incredibly skilled at finding new grudges to hold.

"Whatcha got there, Stevie?"

Steve blinks, looking away from the D8 to find Eddie leaning on the counter, a familiar grin tugging at his lips. His hair is loose today, falling over his shoulders, and he's boldly wearing a Hellfire Club shirt, like he's confident that Steve won't recognize any of Corroded Coffin's merch.

Which, sure, Steve is great at pretending by now. Especially after he and Robin made a bet on whether Steve could keep the secret until Eddie asked him out. Steve has incredible faith in himself; Robin says he's too dumb and gay to last that long. So far, after around two months and multiple visits from Eddie, Steve is still going strong.

"A D8," Steve says, holding it between his thumb and forefinger so Eddie can see it clearly. "One of the kids left it behind yesterday."

"They were playing D&D here?" Eddie asks, tilting his head slightly as he holds his hand out.

Steve drops the dice into his hand, watching as Eddie inspects the gold numbers and hums softly with appreciation. "I host a weekly D&D program," Steve explains. "A group of regular kids plays, and they were getting a little disruptive when they played in the common area--" Steve gestures to the cluster of tables where the kids used to set up "--and the program gives them the meeting room for a whole afternoon."

Eddie looks up at him like he's just said he's a volunteer firefighter on the weekends. It's not an awe and appreciation that Steve really deserves, but he also can't help the slight puff of his chest when it's coming from Eddie. "Do you play, too?" Eddie asks.

"Sort of?" Steve frowns slightly, trying to remember how Dustin and Will explained his role during the campaign to him. "I'm, like, extras. Their DM, Will, wanted his, uh, NPCs? Yeah, NPCs. He wanted the NPCs to feel more real, so he'll give me, like, a little script before each session and then have me voice the NPCs and give me signals to guide my interactions."

"Signals?"

"Yeah, like, if I'm a shop owner and the characters bargain for stuff. He'll give me a signal of when their, like, rolls are effective or when they suck. And if I'm a villain NPC, he'll give me a signal of when to die and give dramatic monologues," Steve explains.

And Eddie grins again, his eyes practically sparkling with amusement and curiosity. "I kinda wanna hear a dramatic monologue," he says, propping his chin in his palm and looking at Steve expectantly.

He's clearly settled in to watch a show, and Steve isn't one to disappoint. Steve does a quick sweep of the library and confirms that it's just as empty as he remembers. Then, he sits up a little straighter in his chair, clears his throat, and tries to remember his whole dying monologue from the most recent session.

When he speaks, it's with a raspy voice, laced with pain and anger at being defeated, "Curse you, adventurers! You may have won the battle, but the war! The war yet rages, and you will be caught in its carnage! Savor this victory now, for it will be your last, and you will fa-"

Steve cuts off, grinning when Eddie blinks and pouts. "Why'd you stop?" he asks.

"Mike's character killed me before I could finish. Said my monologue was boring."

Eddie snorts, raising an eyebrow at that. "It sounds like your monologue was going to reveal info about the BBG."

"Yep. It was, but Will refused to tell them what the rest would've been, and Dustin threw his dice at Mike for killing me."

"He's lucky it was only that," Eddie says, completely serious, "I might've just killed him."

Steve can't help laughing, imagining Max leaping over the table to tackle Mike to the floor. She's done it before, actually, and the only thing that keeps her from attacking again is the knowledge that Steve will ban her from the library for at least a month if she gets violent again.

"He's lucky none of them want to be temporarily banned," Steve says.

"Oh? That's all it takes to get banned?" Eddie asks.

Steve smirks at the teasing lift to Eddie's question. "Yep, so you'd better watch yourself, Munson. I expect you to be on your best behavior," he says.

"I've never been very good at behaving."

"Great, you'll fit right in with the kids."

He looks up to see Eddie's smile growing wider, and Steve suddenly finds himself wondering how it would feel to kiss that smile away.

Four

Something library school never prepared Steve for is how overwhelmed certain days would make him. That's the thing about working with the public: some days are just never-ending, a line of patrons needing something practically wrapping through the stacks, meaning Steve can't turn off his customer service voice and smile.

Usually, he'll just escape to the back, lock himself in the employee bathroom, and take five minutes to cool down. Robin has gotten great at knocking on the door when the five minutes is up, pretending she needs to use the bathroom so the other staff members don't suspect Steve of breathing away a breakdown.

Today, though, Steve can't hide in the bathroom because of the music Robin is playing in the back. It's grating on his ears, scratching against his brain and down his spine like nails on a chalkboard, made all the worse by his interactions with an older patron with a voice that was rough and somehow rounded with sharp edges at the same time.

If Steve asked, Robin would definitely turn off the music, but he also saw her tense shoulders, how on edge she was, and how the music was the only thing helping her calm down. So Steve couldn't. Instead, he just said he was going to shelf-read the non-fiction section.

Because nobody goes into the non-fiction section. At least, nobody goes to the part of the section filled with encyclopedias. It's a safe corner, tucked into the back of the library where few people wander unless they're desperate for an outdated book of information that has no real bearing on their life.

So here Steve is, sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest and his eyes closed. This part of the library is quieter, but he can still hear the general ambiance of the building: people talking in hushed voices, the keyboards clicking as people type, chairs scraping against the floor as people pull them out.

And quiet footsteps coming closer. They're accompanied by the gentle sound of metal bouncing against itself. Steve doesn't open his eyes, but he does know that it's Eddie, and he's not at all surprised that Eddie managed to find him deep in the stacks.

It makes him feel a little warm, actually.

When Eddie reaches him, he doesn't speak. He just sits next to Steve, close enough for Steve to feel his presence without their shoulders touching. And he seems content to stay in silence for as long as needed, but Steve doesn't want silence. He wants to hear Eddie's voice; maybe it will override the discomfort of the music and the patron from earlier.

"Could you talk?" Steve asks, his voice soft and barely audible.

But Eddie hears him and scoots a tiny bit closer, letting their shoulders brush.

"I have opinions about library shelving because of you now. Like, why are science fiction and fantasy shelved together as one category? They're two different genres; they represent different things. One is a reflection of our society and all that it could be, an escape into something new, and the other is a reflection of what our society was through the eyes of a new world. And, like, it's not even the ones you think. They both embody different lessons and values and pairing them together is, like, demeaning to the hallmarks of the genres and what they can do for readers."

Yeah, that definitely sounds like an opinion about library shelving and cataloging. Steve can't help a soft laugh escaping him as he finally opens his eyes and looks at Eddie. "What started this?" he asks.

"There are Star Trek novels right next to, like, Seven Blades in Black on the shelves, Stevie. It's horrendous. What the fuck?"

Steve smiles a little, gently knocking their elbows together. "Unfortunately, I can't control how our cataloging department works," he says.

"Sounds like a skill issue to me," Eddie says, "Maybe you should just get good."

Steve barks out a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand at how loud it sounds. He glares at Eddie, his eyes holding no real heat.

Eddie grins right back and leans in a little closer. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle and brushing against Steve's brain like a cool stream of water on a hot day.

It makes his shoulders relax, something in his stomach uncurling and draining all the tension from his muscles. "Yeah," he replies, "thanks."

"Anytime, Stevie," Eddie says, smiling at Steve like he's capable of hanging stars in the sky, like he'd do a backflip with a broken spine if Steve asked.

And Steve...Steve finds himself getting lost in Eddie's eyes, and he has no plans to find his way out anytime soon.

Five

Most of the library staff hates reshelving books, but Steve loves it. He doesn't have to use his brain beyond remembering the alphabet, and he can listen to music while he works, easily zoning out so the time passes quickly.

Which is what's happening now. He's probably been shelving for a while, but he's been listening to a Corroded Coffin playlist the entire time, humming along to Hellfire and Chains. His head is bobbing along to the music as he works, and he turns to grab another book off the reshelving cart only to find Eddie standing right behind him.

Steve jumps, his heart leaping into his throat as he chokes on air and Corroded Coffin notes. Eddie is staring at him with wide eyes, somewhere between afraid and infatuated, and Steve can't help asking, "What the fuck, man?" in a whispered voice.

"Whatcha listening to, Stevie?" Eddie asks, ignoring Steve's question.

Oh. If he admits to knowing Corroded Coffin's music, then he'll probably be giving up the whole "I know you're famous" thing, and based on Eddie's somewhat terrified look, that's not a great idea right now. But he also can't lie about the music because Eddie's going to recognize his own songs.

"Uh, Corroded Coffin, I think? I heard Lucas playing one of their songs. It sounded catchy and he sent me a playlist he'd made on Spotify," Steve explains.

It's not a lie, technically. That is how he discovered Corroded Coffin, but that was almost two years ago now.

"And, uh, what do you think?" Eddie asks, glancing at the earbuds still playing in Steve's ear.

Steve studies him for a moment before smiling. "They're really good," he says, turning around to continue shelving books. "I like stuff from their second album best so far."

"Do you usually listen to metal and rock?" Eddie asks, glancing at the shelving cart before passing Steve another book.

Steve almost tells Eddie to let him do the shelving, but then he sees that Eddie passed him the correct book for this section, so he bites back the words. Instead, he nods and crouches to slide the book into a bottom shelf. "Yeah. More older stuff, I guess. Guns N' Roses, Metallica, Nine Inch Nails, Queen. That kind of stuff," he says.

"Holy fuck, you're perfect," Eddie says, his voice soft and full of awe and Steve is about to laugh when Eddie adds, "Marry me."

Steve blinks, nearly losing his balance and falling on his ass. He saves himself at the last minute, quickly standing up again so he can look at Eddie. "Seriously?" he asks, wondering if maybe he had just misheard.

He did not. And this is proven by Eddie moving around the shelving cart, grabbing Steve's hand, and getting down on one knee. "Incredibly. Your music taste is fucking immaculate, sweetheart. Also, you're funny, hot, and sweet, and I've recently developed a librarian kink, I think. So. Marry me," Eddie says before using his teeth to pull off one of the chunky rings on his left hand so his right hand doesn't have to let go of Steve.

He then holds the ring up, and Steve really shouldn't find that as hot as he does. Like. Really hot. And he almost considers saying yes. But then he fully processes Eddie's words and almost laughs. "You've developed a librarian kink? So, what, you'll drop me the moment another librarian starts ranting about the Dewey Decimal system?" he asks.

"Okay, fair," Eddie says, nodding once. "Let me rephrase that. I've developed a Librarian Steve Harrington kink. Only you, big boy. Nobody curses out the Dewey Decimal system like you, sweetheart."

That might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to Steve, actually. "It's a shitty cataloging system," he says without thinking.

Eddie nods in agreement, still on one knee, still holding up the ring (it's shaped like a coffin, now that Steve spares it more than a quick glance) and still looking up at Steve with an infatuated smile. "It is," he agrees, voice a little softer than before like he's ready to just kneel through Steve's passionate rant about it.

And Steve thinks that might be the final straw for him. "I'd prefer at least one date before marriage," he says, grinning down at Eddie and pulling him back to his feet.

Eddie follows his lead, standing a little too close considering Steve is, technically, still at work. He turns Steve's hand over so it's palm up and drops the ring into it. "Of course, Stevie. How about lunch tomorrow? My treat," he offers.

Of course, Steve says yes.

+ One

"I still think there are funnier ways to tell him," Robin says, crossing her arms and pouting as Steve leans against the counter, his back to the door.

Steve sticks his tongue out at her. "You're just mad you lost the bet," he says. Telling her she lost had made Steve's entire week, especially since it means Robin is finally (finally!) going to dress up with Steve the next time they go to a basketball game together. He's got a jersey and shorts ready for her; he's had them ready since the first game he invited her to. They have her name across the back, are the ugliest shade of mustard yellow he could find, and match his perfectly.

"That jersey is the work of the devil," she says, her nose scrunching in disgust at the thought of it.

Steve just grins. "You never know, maybe a nice girl will be enraptured by your awkward lesbian swag," he says.

Robin is about to answer when she looks over Steve's shoulder and grins, her eyes lighting up. Steve looks over his shoulder to see Eddie smiling at him. "Hey, Stevie," he says.

And here it is. The moment of truth. Steve grins right back at Eddie and turns around, letting him see the graphic on his shirt. It's one he bought at a Corroded Coffin concert a year ago. It has the band's first album cover emblazoned across it with Eddie front-and-center, playing his guitar with the other band members around him as bats swirl in a red haze above their heads.

Eddie stares at the shirt, his smile freezing on his face and his body tensing. Panic starts to fill his eyes, and he glances up, looking ready to explain himself only to stop when he sees Steve's soft, endeared smile. He pauses, studying Steve's expression for a moment before laughing a little awkwardly and tugging on a lock of his hair, using it to cover his mouth. "So, uh, you knew the whole time," he says.

"Yep," Steve replies, leaning forward on the counter so it's harder for Eddie to avoid looking at him. "I did."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Eddie asks.

"You didn't want me to," Steve says. Then he considers his words and corrects, "Or, you didn't want to be recognized. When you first came in, you were bracing yourself for it, and I figured you'd feel more comfortable if I pretended not to know you."

"What about all the other times?"

Steve shrugs, his smile becoming reassuring. "I figured you'd either tell me when you were ready, or I'd tell you when we went on a date because you'd probably get all in your head about having a secret like that while we were dating."

And Steve is right. Eddie would have freaked out over the secret, and he would have struggled with telling Steve at just the right moment, and time would have stretched on and on until it had been too long to tell him anything. It would have been agony for Eddie and left Steve concerned and just not a good time for anyone.

"So, uh, how long have you been a fan?" Eddie asks.

"Well, I wasn't lying about hearing your music from Lucas, but I did lie about the time. It was two years ago," Steve explains.

Eddie slowly nods and then starts to grin. "So, how's it feel dating a celebrity?" he asks playfully, leaning closer and wiggling his eyebrows at Steve.

"Like a Wattpad fantasy come true," Steve deadpans, nearly cracking when he hears Robin lose her shit behind him, her laughter turning into wheezes within seconds.

Eddie laughs, too. It's loud and bright and makes Steve feel warm and happy, like every problem could be solved simply by making Eddie laugh just like this.

Steve is eager to find out if that's true.