#and I’m gonna make my stupid brain shut up too and stop telling me I’m invalid

[frudoo]

I need the 141 as a group of slashers. Their shared wife gets harassed at the store and tells them when she gets home?

Might send more asks for slasher 141 if that's okay

You can ALWAYS send me slasher!141 ideas are you joking?!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual harassment (NOT by the 141), typical mentions of weapons and violence. Fem!Reader.

It’s pouring down freezing rain, the cold seemingly nudging past your skin and settling itself into your bones. Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys, letting out a defeated wail when you miss the lock for the fifth fucking time. Throwing your keys in your purse, you settle for knocking, then calling out that it’s just you. You’d rather not have one of your lovers answering the door with a machete to your throat. They always have had a flair for the dramatic. 

     It’s John who answers the door. Immediately he takes in your shivering figure and his bushy eyebrows furrow with concern. Scanning the vast land of the farm and finding nothing that could be perceived as a threat, he gently takes the purse from your hands. Strong arms hustle you inside and he kicks the door shut, working quickly to get you out of your sopping wet clothes. 

     “Darlin’, what happened? Why’re you cryin’?” John asks softly, hanging your coat on the rack—he can tell it’s bad by the way you flinch just from the question. 

     Simon, Johnny, and Kyle trail into the living room to greet you, but when they see your state, it’s like you can feel the tension in the air, ready to snap like a weathered rubber band. Simon comes to scoop you up, uncaring of the drenched clothes you still have on, and carries you up the stairs. He jerks his head to signal that everyone else should follow him. 

     While Kyle runs you a bath, John finishes undressing you, tossing your clothing into the hamper with a wet plop. You’re still shivering, tears streaming down your chilly cheeks, and it breaks their hearts. John cups your face in his big, warm hands, crystal blue eyes scanning for injuries or any reason you might be so spooked. 

     “You gonna answer my question, sweetheart? What’s happened?” 

     His voice is soothing, and you lean into the comfort of his touch. He always has been the best at calming you down, rich gravel filling your ears until you remember how cherished you are in his eyes. In all of their eyes. 

     “T-there was a man,” you stutter, head whipping around violently with your fist raised when Johnny wraps an arm around your waist to help you into the bath. “No!”

     “Hey, hey, jus’ me, hen,” Johnny’s eyes widen as he throws his hands up in surrender, backing away to avoid getting hit. 

     “I’m sorry,” you weep, covering your face with your trembling hands as Johnny tries again, this time successful in getting you settled into the warm water. 

     “Wha’ did he do?” Simon’s raspy voice sounds from the corner of the room, eerily calm. “Wha’ did tha’ fucker do?” 

     “The man… I-I was at the store to get groceries, but there was- he… he grabbed my ass and my tits and f-followed me out to the car. I drove away really fast so he couldn’t come after me, but… I’m sorry, I didn’t get the groceries.”

     “Oh, sweetheart,” Kyle frowns, gently reaching out to grab a hold of one of your hands. “The fuckin’ groceries are the least of our concerns.”

     You nod noncommittally, sniffling and just barely squeezing Kyle’s hand to let him know you appreciate the gesture. John’s jaw is clenched tight, and you can practically hear the rage brewing in his brain. Such a sweet thing traumatized by some stupid fuck who wanted his hands full of their soft, perfect girl. He wants—needs—to make him pay. John turns on his heel and just about rushes through the door, but your gentle voice stops him in his tracks.

     “John? Please stay,” you beg so, so prettily, pouty lips still swollen from how hard you’d been crying, and John’s far too weak a man to deny you. 

     Hesitantly, the captain trails back inside the bathroom, giving the other three a curt nod. They understand instantly, and Simon is cracking his knuckles so loud you’re almost sure the city can hear it. 

     “Bring the bastard back alive,” John commands, and faster than you can blink, Kyle, Simon, and Johnny are out the door.

     “I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes focused on the ripple of the bathwater when you submerge your hands.

     John shakes his head, tilting your chin up so that you look him in the eye. He leans forward and nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours, a silent question. When you nod he leans in to kiss you long and slow, pressing his forehead against yours as the two of you stop to catch a breath.

     “No need to be sorry, sweet girl. You’ll get a turn on him soon enough.”

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con, Knotting

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

First | Previous | 1fur1

Masterlist

[thecapricunt1616]

It’s 5:30 am and I literally have been awake for the past 3 hours trying to fall asleep but this fucking guy

This beautiful British blonde FUCK has been plaguing my every brain cell and it’s SICK. Thinking abt early mornings with him and how tender and sweet he’d be GRRRAH (more BTC)

But okok so imagine you’re having a hard time falling back asleep, it’s like 3:45 am but you don’t care, it’s actually a pleasant surprise for you when you wake earlier then normal, because your man isn’t usually far behind.

Like Carmy, he wants to be the first one up, the first one ready, the first one that gets to work. So naturally he’s rousing at 4, taking a good 5 minutes to lay with you and smother you in gentle kisses, light enough to assure you wouldn’t wake too soon, but enough to satisfy himself that he gave you enough love and attention before he got to work.

That is something different between those two. Carmy sees a relationship as a distraction and something he needs to tread carefully with so he doesn’t dedicate too much of his mind or time to it - but Luca? He worships his girl, and he will spend any second possible at your side while still maintaining his regimented routine.

Lucas anxiety comes about time, it’s different than Carmys. Luca is always early, he has mastered knowing the very minute he has to be out of bed and taking the 5 steps to the boat houses bathroom and cutting the water on that takes 3 minutes to come to a comfortable temperature. But until then? He is kissing your cheeks, your nose, your hairline, your neck, your chest, your stomach, your thighs. He’s snuggling you close and whispering how much he loves you, and his plans for the day even if he well knows you’re dead to the world still.

He would work extra minutes and seconds into his morning routine between brushing his teeth and getting dressed and styling his hair he would come and give you a sweet kiss to the head or lips, sometimes gently caressing your hair if you stirred from the action.

But this particular morning, Luca was elated, but a bit confused, to see you looking right back at him when he hit stop on his alarm after the second beep. “Morning, trying to come for my gig as being the early riser in this relationship?” His voice was deep and rich with sleep. He pulled you in, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back soothingly which caused your eyes to flutter shut at the lovely feeling. He was so warm, he smelt so distinctly him. You nuzzled your face into his bare chest, planting gentle kisses on the skin

“The universe is against me. I feel tired but I’ve been laying with my eyes closed for hours, this is helping though- but I don’t want it to now cause I love you and wanna talk” you said and he chuckled a bit, kissing the top of your head again and giving you a loving squeeze

“I love you, darling. What’s on your mind, mm?” He asked and gently pets your hair. You nuzzle into his neck, a small smile on your lips.

“I’m not telling you cause you work too hard as it is” you said and he smiled himself, snorting a laugh

“So you’re thinking of something you want to eat, got it. Well what is plaguing that pretty mind baby I may have some spare time today” he resumed his gentle back rub, his short nails running along your skin and giving you goosebumps where he touched.

“Lemon posset” you admit and he hums, pressing another kiss to your forehead this time

“And why do you think that’s so hard love? I’ll bring you some back later.” He said and you groan

“Luca you work 10 hours today, I’d rather you be home with me then making me some stupid intricate craving”

“Hush, I can work it out love don’t worry. Just gotta move some things around it’ll be no big deal”

And yeah he’s gonna be home early, with dessert and dinner - just to prove a point that he knows how to manage his time

[friendlyneighborhoodslut]

The Roommate Agreement | 5-The Third Law.

Pairing(s)/Tropes—Eventual Steve Harrington X Reader, slow burn.

Summary—Every action has consequences.

Warnings/Extras—Violent hangovers (we’ve all been there), drinking, strong language, angst if you squint, shameless cringe flirting, Eddie The Instigator. MDNI, 18+! Let me know if I missed anything!

MASTERLIST | | PREVIOUS PART | | NEXT PART

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

I rise before the sun, mouth dry and throat sore. I lazily drag myself into the shower, peeling off last night’s clothes, not daring to face my reflection in the vanity mirror.

I know what I look like. A hot mess.

The heat does nothing to soothe my throbbing headache, so I down a few Advil and shuffle quietly out of the bedroom. Daizy doesn’t so much as stir, sleeping like the dead. I did check to make sure she was breathing, just to be safe. I’ll let her sleep in as long as she wants, to delay the inevitable.

As I enter the hallway, the faint sound of water running from the kitchen sink makes my heart plummet into my stomach as I assume someone left the water on last night. My socked feet shuffle rapidly against orange wooden floorboards, sliding against the cool linoleum of the kitchen when I stop suddenly. I grip the fridge for support, ungracefully pumping into it and making it rock slightly.

Someone leans over the sink, washing the dishes. Broad shoulders flexing underneath a pale blue t-shirt. My vision is blurred with sleep deprivation, so i blink a couple times when I read the clock on the oven. 5:45. No, I definitely read it right.

Steve, aware of my presence, looks over his shoulder. “Oh, hey. What’re you doing up so early?”

I tug at the sleeves of my sweater. “I was gonna ask you the same thing,”

He shrugs, looking down at the two-compartment sink. “I’m washing the dishes, obviously,”

I lean against the counter next to him, staring at him. That’s not a good enough answer, I tell him silently.

He holds my gaze for a minute, lighting my skin ablaze. He shakes his head, returning to the dishes. His jaw clenches. “I, uh…” he begins, dunking a plate into the soapy water. “I don’t sleep much these days,”

I take in a small breath, almost a gasp, because I’m taken aback. Surprised that he’s let me in on what feels like a secret, that he trusted me with something.

I nod. I can tell I’ve touched a nerve, that he’s not used to letting people in. “My hangover woke me up,” I admit with a faint smile, trying to lighten the mood. “I feel like my brain’s gonna explode,”

To my relief, he smiles too. “Ah, yeah. There’s a cure for that,” he says definitively, shutting the tap off and drying his hands on a towel.

“Is it to get drunk again? Because I’m so not down for that,” I groan nauseously. It’s something Daizy would suggest, ‘can’t be hungover if you stay drunk,’ she’d say, and I’d tell her she’s full of shit because I’ve definitely been hungover and drunk simultaneously before.

He laughs quietly as to not wake anyone else in the house, shoulders shaking. “Fresh air and…French fries,” he tells me matter of factly.

“…French fries?” I parrot. Did this guy fall and hit his head while I was sleeping?

“Trust me, I spent a lot of time so hungover that I was begging God to put me out of my misery,” he divulges, sliding to the coat rack and slipping on his jacket. “French Fries and a Coke from Roy’s. You won’t regret it I promise,”

Are you asking me on a date, Steve Harrington?

No. That’s stupid. Don’t think of it like that.

I cross my arms over my chest. “Should we really leave when everyone’s asleep?” I ask as I watch him pull a pair of ancient Adidas onto his feet. He snags his keys from a bowl on the entry table.

“You said it yourself, they’re asleep,” his voice is edged with a teasing tone, brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “Who’s gonna know?”

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Roy’s 24 Hour Diner is a 50s style burger joint with a drive thru that looks like it’ll collapse at any moment and a flickering neon sign that’s missing letters.

Ro ‘s Burge s & Sh kes, the bright red sign reads, the remaining letters meant to spell out Roy’s Burgers & Shakes having been burnt out long ago. Apparently Roy’s not as young as he used to be, and he can’t be bothered to climb on top of the post and change the bulbs in the sign out, according to Steve.

It’s not the type of place I’d peg to be in Chicago, but I suppose that’s why we had to drive so long to get here. It rests at the edge of the city, where skyscrapers shrink into suburbs that morph into trees.

An older woman with thin drawn on eyebrows and blue eyeshadow greets us at the drive thru window. She seems shocked by our presence when she opens the window.

“Steve Harrington. You should be in bed right now, young man,” she scolds, pursing her lips thin.

He laughs as she leans forward, getting a good look at us. Her name tag reads Betty, faded but still there. She opens her mouth like she’s gonna say something, but shuts it quick when she eyes me in the passenger seat. Instead, she simply asks, “What can I get for ya?”

His words are incoherent to me, blurring into obscurity as I watch the way the burnt orange sun creeps over the skyline. Colors burst from the ball of fire, purples and pinks and reds. A skinny crow bobs in and out of view. As he stretches his wings against the sunrise, I wonder what it must be like to be him.

I’m ripped from my daydreaming when Steve carefully plops two greasy paper bags on my lap, folding up a receipt and shoving it in his back pocket. I crinkle my nose and he laughs quietly.

“Where’d ya go?” He asks as he pulls into a deserted corner of the parking lot.

I don’t want to tell him that I just fantasized about what it’d be like to be a bird of all things. It sounds so stupid no matter what way it comes out, so I omit it. “I’m thinking about the mortality rates of alcohol poisoning,” I lie, immediately feeling gross and dirty. Guilty.

“Shit, well. If it were a cause for concern Eddie’d have died years ago,” Steve tells me, avoiding my eyes as he grabs a bag from my lap.

The scene is casted in a magenta haze that fights with the shadows of nighttime for dominance. My stomach does flips as I watch his features contort under the dim light, so effortlessly beautiful and dumbly unaware of my gawking. I force myself to turn to my own food. I swallow, throat lined with sandpaper.

I didn’t realize how hungry I was until the first handful of fries hit my stomach, the ache letting up a bit. We sit in silence, watching the sun rise as the stereo hums lightly. It’s playing one of those ‘second date update’ radio shows, where the hosts call your date on your behalf to see why you never got a call back. It’s depressing, but by God if it doesn’t make me feel better about my own love life.

The caller’s a woman who went on a date with her coworker but he left abruptly in the middle, avoiding her like the plague at the office afterward. Intrigued and with a mouthful of fries, I lean over and turn the volume knob up just a smidge. Steve startles at my sudden movement, but settles down with a chuckle when he realizes what I’m doing.

“You actually like this stuff?” He jokes. “It’s so fake,”

“Shut up,” I roll my eyes playfully, snuggling into the side of my seat to listen to the voices on the radio. There’s a ringing tone, and a man’s voice picks up the phone.

“Hello?” The disembodied voice answers.

“Hey, is this Brock?”

“Yeah… who’s this?”

“This is Aidan from Second Date Updates. How you doin’ man?”

“Oh, crap,” I can hear Brock rub his face with his hands. “Is this about Emily?”

“Yes sir, it is,” the other host, Jamie adds sweetly. Her voice sounds like honey, simple and sweet as a contrast to Aidan’s high-pitched one.

“She says you ran out on your date. What happened?” Aidan asks.

“Well…uh, you see. I got a call… from my wife. Wondering where I was,” he answers honestly, embarrassed. The radio show erupts with laughter sounds of astonishment. This grabs Steve’s attention and he snaps his head to look at me, dumbfounded. I snort, covering my hand with my mouth. Typically on these shows, the original caller is supposed to be quiet until the hosts get an answer out of their victim, but they remain on the line. Emily seems to have another idea.

“YOU’RE MARRIED?!” Emily screeches.

“NO?!” He tries to deflect.

“Too late Brock, you liar,” I shake my head, munching on my food. I can see Steve staring at me from my peripherals and I ignore him, pretending to be transfixed on the drama seeping through the stereo. In all honesty I can’t even hear it anymore, my ears ringing too loudly. His mouth is moving, I realize he’s talking to me, so I crane my head in his direction. “What?”

He grins, shaking his head. “I said, how much you willing to bet Brock’s ugly?”

“You saying pretty men don’t cheat?” I tease.

“Not me, Princess. That’s for sure,” he expresses, tilting his head.

I ignore the nickname for my own sake. “Did you just call yourself pretty?”

We erupt into laughter.

“Ah, man. I forgot my phone at home,” Steve sighs, patting the pockets of his pants.

I his through my teeth as I search myself. “Crap, me too…” my eyes widen and we share a brief, terrified look. “…what’re the chances someone’s awake—“

“And can’t get ahold of us?” He finishes. I purse my lips and nod my head. He scrunches his nose, sweeping a hand through his hair. “Yeah, we’re screwed.” He swears through gritted teeth.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Steve unlocks the front door so slowly I think I might implode from the tension. The worrying, the waiting. The solid blue door creaks open. Slowly…slowly…until…

“Where the fresh hell have you two been?”

“Eddie?!” We whisper-yell in unison.

“You should count yourself lucky, or you’d be finding yourself sleeping on the fire escape, Steven,” Eddie tells him, arms crossed as he leans against the kitchen counter. “I don’t even know how you two could possible have the energy for…whatever this is, at 7AM,” His gaze flickers down to the paper bag in Steve’s hands, wiggling his brows. “But I’ll contemplate not telling Benny about it if you hand over those fries from Roy’s,”

Steve rolls his eyes, handing over the bag. “Freeloader.” He shoots, moving to flop down tiredly on the couch.

“Slut.” Eddie retorts, reaching into the bag to shove some cold fries into his mouth. I know it’s meant to be funny, a lighthearted jab at his best friend, but Eddie’s insult has my head whirring. It’s no secret that Steve Harrington’s got a reputation and a list of conquests a mile long, and I can’t help but wonder which category I fall under: new conquest, or friend. Cause it could only be one or the other, right? Never the third option, the one I actually want.

God, how stupid. You barely know the guy, now you wanna date him? Get ahold of yourself.

He’s just some stranger. A wonderful, hot stranger…

The boys argue but I tune them out, their scuffles no more than background noise nowadays. I slump into the kitchen, pulling open a drawer next to the sink to retrieve a tea bag. I fill the rusty blue kettle with water and set it on the stove. I glance up and watch Eddie, bag of fries in hand, climb over the back of the sofa and dig his feet under Steve’s resting body. Steve groans in protest but allows the intrusion nonetheless. A smile tugs at my lips, brief and faint, until a shuffle behind me startled me. Daizy limps towards me, hair flung into a messy bun and my comforter wrapped around her shoulder. She waddles my way, like a child who’s just awoken from a nightmare.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I grin. “Would you like some tea?”

“I’d like to die,” she groans, bumping her forehead into my shoulder and laying it there to rest. “I’ve never been so hung over in my life.” She croaks, breath reeking of vomit and tequila. It damn near makes me gag but I choke it down.

“Tea it is.” I kiss her head, moving to grab another tea bag from the drawer.

“Fries will cure what ales you My Dear,” Eddie offers the bag up and Daizy slinks over, reaching her hand in.

“Where they hell’d you guys get these?” She mumbles, eyes hooded.

I straighten up and stare at Eddie, silently pleading with him. Like a deer caught in headlights, he struggles to form a sentence. “I—uh—we knew everyone’d be sick when they got up so, we—Steve and I—went n’ got some…for everyone,” Eddie covers for me, and I realize I’m now indebted to him. Can’t wait to see what stupid thing I’ll have to do to pay it off.

Daizy furrows her brows. “Why are you guys acting so weird?” She complains. I freeze and my stomach does flips. It’s like a whole gymnastics routine in my gut.

“Why are YOU acting weird?!” Eddie deflects, a little too aggressively, and I cringe. Too much, Edward.

“You’re fuckin’ nuts, Eddie.” Daizy resolves with the shake of her head, turning her back to him. He slumps, having eaten up all his brain power for deception. Steve reaches up to shove him as if to silently say, ‘you idiot!’

I pour an equal amount of boiling water into two coffee mugs, handing one over to Daizy. She cups the hot beverage in her hands, shivering.

Ben emerges from the hall, fastening the tie around his neck. “Good morning, children. You’re all up suspiciously,” Eddie gulps down his food, coking something out about how he’s actually older than Ben by eight months, and how dare he call him a child. Ben’s gaze waivers to my best friend and I, cracking a big-toothed smile. “You two look like hell,”

“Gee, thanks.” I snipe, rolling my eyes as I pretend like I’m not suddenly overthinking the way I look. He laughs loud and the girl beside me flinches.

“God, please. No more noise,” she pleads, rubbing her forehead.

The ancient coffee machine beeps behind me on the counter, a little too much steam pouring out of its crevices. A mess of curly black hair accompanied with the jingle of chains and rings against too-tight skinny jeans flashes across the kitchen. He reaches for the pot, violating my personal space, filling a coffee cup about halfway before reaching into the liquor cabinet, unscrewing the top of a black bottle. The ratio of coffee to Baileys is extravagantly disproportionate, but my hangover’s got me so bad that I’m starting to contemplate following in his footsteps until I catch a whiff of the liquor and it makes me gag. “Edward Munson, it is seven in the morning.” Daizy scolds.

Eddie shrugs, handing her the bottle as a waiver of peace, a ‘sorry for influencing each other to get shitfaced’. She stares at it for a moment, her resolve dissipating as she takes it and tips just a bit into her tea.

My brother announces that he’ll be home late tonight, planting a kiss to the top of my head and whispering for me to behave myself today. My heart sinks into my cold stomach. Oh God, he knows. “Don’t leave before I get here!” He calls out to Daizy, swinging his keys around his middle finger before shutting the front door behind him.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

“You can’t meddle in people’s love lives. It’s rudimentarily wrong,” Steve huffs, pushed back on the heels of his feet and balancing his chair on two legs. The window we sit by accentuates the gloom of the clouds outside, plunging our table at the cafe in a cold gray. The three of us sit in a semicircle, a noticeable gap where Daizy should be sitting, as she orders her coffee at the register. We’d taken to discussing my horrible—and failed—plan to orchestrate my brother and best friend’s romantic reunion until she returns to the table.

“That was a gigantic word for you, Harrington,” Eddie starts. “Do you even know what it means?” Steve kicks our friend’s chin under the table and Eddie winces.

I cover my grin with my cup, blowing on the hot latte before sipping on it. I hiss as the heat stings my tongue, my lack of patience for it to cool down yielding immediate consequences. “Steve’s right. If they were gonna get together they’d have done it by now,”

“Have you ever stopped to consider that our Benji’s just a bit of an idiot?” Eddie pinches two fingers together, a sliver of air between them as he squints to get a good look at them. “Maybe he just hasn’t figured it out yet.”

It’s my turn to bump his leg with my foot. He glares at me, opening his mouth to speak but is interrupted by Daizy’s return. “I can’t believe it’s my last day in Chicago,” she huffs.

Eddie shrugs. “You could always live with us,” he suggests.

Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t react much to this. She smirks, tossing her head to the side. “At least take me out to dinner before asking me to move in with you, Munson.”

I’m sorry. What the fuck is going on here?

“I’ll take you out anytime, Sweetheart.” He grins.

I make a show of gagging and Steve reminds Eddie to ‘not make it weird’. Sometimes I think the metalhead really can’t help himself; it sort of spills out of him like word vomit. It’s strange, how everything about him that should be obnoxious is exactly why you love him. He clearly knows we love him, too, judging by the way he teases Steve about it. Steve rolls his eyes and stretches, his orange sweater—not orange like the fruit, like a sunset—riding up. His face scrunches and his brown eyes narrow. He looks so effortlessly beautiful that it pisses me off. Daizy nudges my crossed legs with hers, ripping me away from my trance. I snap my head in her direction and she arches her brows. “By the time I come back, you two’ll be married,” she snorts.

“Bug’s marrying who?” Eddie chimes in, too loud for his own good again. My stomach churns and my blood runs cold. I don’t dare look at Steve. I’ll combust or die if I do. My mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, trying to come up with any excuse.

“The guy she went on a date with!”

God bless you and your ability to flawlessly lie, Daizy.

“How the hell’d she manage that? She never leaves the house!” Eddie challenges.

“Um, rude. I’m sitting right here. And I leave the house!” I complain, gesturing to my existence that he’s blatantly ignoring, or maybe he just doesn’t care much to not offend me. Yeah, that second option sounds right.

“So who is this mystery guy anyways?” He prods, leaning forward on his elbows. “Is he hot?” He squeals much like a schoolgirl talking about crushes for the first time.

Oh no, not the questions.

Steve’s eyes bore holes into the side of my cranium.

“None of your damn business, and I’m not answering that.” I mumble.

“Ah, he’s ugly.” Eddie nods to Steve like he’s got it all figured out, and Steve rubs his face with his hands. The rapid rise and fall of his broad chest as he huffs with annoyance, the kind of sound that emphasizes, ‘I don’t want to deal with this right now.’

I can’t for the life of me figure out why Steve would be annoyed by my mystery man—real or not—so I settle on the idea that our friend is the source of his aggravation. And it’s while Steve’s eyes linger on me from a distance that I break into a cold sweat, hands clammy and skin wet, as I dare allow myself to wonder.

What if he did care? What if, in some other lifetime, Steve Harrington cared about who I dated?

The stupid idea’s enough to break my own heart if I let it. So I don’t.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Daizy’s been around for damn near a month. As I help her pack her suitcase, I bite my lip to avoid tears. I’ve grown so accustomed to her presence that just the idea of her absence makes me depressed. We haven’t been more than a couple blocks apart since birth, and I’m starting to feel like I’m getting closer to chopping off a limb rather than a goodbye to a friend as I watch Ben toss the final bag into the car.

Eddie’s got the hood popped on her little red Toyota that’s missing the front bumper. Conveniently, she can’t remember what happened to it. Checking the oil and messing around with God-knows-what, I can tell Eddie’s stalling, as he pretends to look perplexed.

“What could you possibly be looking at now?” Daizy complains, arms crossed over her chest. It’s colder now, creeping into September as the leaves change, so she wears a solid black leather jacket that she got from Hawkins Place.

“Just wanna make sure your car doesn’t blow up on your cross-country journey,” Eddie says matter-of-factly, slamming the hood down. He wipes his hands on his jeans, the deep black color absorbing the stain of oil.

We stand there silently, the five of us. It isn’t awkward, just heavy. I keep my head down, kicking at some leaves that crumple beneath me.“C’mon Bug, it’s not like I’m leaving forever,” she tells me, and that’s all it takes for the tears to start. It’s stupid, you’d think she’s dying or something. There’s still birthdays and Thanksgiving and Christmas, all the obligatory holidays where you’re meant to go to the ends of the earth to meet up with your family. She pouts, red lipstick creasing as she hugs me. I squeeze her back tight, resting my chin on her shoulder. I sniffle and she laughs, “Aw don’t cry over me, babe. I ain’t worth all that,” her Texas accent’s really shining through, like it always does when she gets emotional. I wonder if Ben and I have an accent, or if we missed out on that part because we grew up with parents that didn’t have one.

“If you wanna be like that, shouldn’t make it so easy to love you,” I joke, squeezing her ribs because I know it tickles. She tries to jump away but I wont let her go, trapping her in a fit of laugher. The boys watch us silently, until she swings an arm around my neck and outstretches the other, beckoning them to us. Ben chuckles, swooping his arm around both of us. Steve joins next, and finally Eddie, who is thrilled to wrap himself around all four of us like a poofy-haired blanket.

Within our circle, Daizy sighs. “Take care of her for me, Boys,” she pops her head up, taking turns looking each of them in the eyes. “Or I’ll hang you up by your Rocky Mountain Oysters and let gravity castrate you.” She threatens, dead serious. I know so because I watched her do it to a bull once. Maybe not by hanging him upside down, but still…

Ben takes her hand and whisks her away far too soon. We reluctantly let her go and she blows us a flamboyant kiss, waiving like a celebrity on the red carpet. I can’t hold back my grin as I wave back. She’s always had a flare for dramatics, and goddamn will I miss it. A part of me silently hopes that Ben tries to convince her to stay, but I know him better than that. He’ll continue to let her be the one that got away. Again and again, to the point where even I’m annoyed, and I can’t imagine how Daizy feels.

My sadness is palpable, and Steve puts a hand on my shoulder to give it a light squeeze. I turn to look at him with teary eyes. Even his pitying smile is beautiful. “Let’s go inside.” He suggests, slipping his hand down to the small of my back. I allow him to softly guide me back into the building, Eddie skipping close behind.

“Shalt we drink our sorrows away?” Eddie’s sea-shanty singing echoes against the ringing in my ears. When I glance over my shoulder, Steve startles at how fast I’ve turned and mirrors me. The pair of us allow Eddie to lose himself wandering the halls back to the apartment as we watch Ben emerge through the front doors.

Alone.

I witness his pitiful expression and imagine I must look pretty similar right about now. He lingers in the lobby, lost. Steve’s large hand rubs up my spine and stops at the base of my neck, squeezing it lightly with reassurance. In a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, he speaks, “We’re never drinking with Eddie again.” He tells me, like he knows I’ll agree with whatever he says.

I nod, still haunted by the night before. “Agreed.” For the first time all night, I laugh because I’m happy and not because I’m trying to cover up my depression, basking in the joy that is Steve’s presence.

Back in the apartment, it feels empty. One person less. Eddie’s sitting on the couch, cracking open a beer. I don’t have the energy to harping him on the dangers of liver failure, so instead I opt to plop down onto the couch next to him. His body shifts under the change in weight on the cushions, rolling into me. I groan, shoving him off me. He snickers, pushing back and kicking his feet up on my lap. Worn out, I allow his antics to go on, stretching to reach for my homework I’d tucked neatly into a textbook on the coffee table. I make a point of thunderously dropping the book on Eddie’s legs to open it. He hisses and frowns, leaning back to sip his beer.

Steve lounges on the new to us but still ancient sofa we’d purged from some forty-something off Craigslist, cracked orange leather and frayed stitching smooshing under his body. He turns a random football game that I pay no mind to, careful to keep the volume barely above a whisper while I work. It isn’t unbeknownst to me that Ben hasn���t returned yet, but I figure if there was a cause for concern that Steve would track him down. Ben’s never been good at dealing with his emotions, and I never figured out how to handle them for him. Maybe his best friend had better luck.

I’m almost an hour deep into Newton’s Laws, and my brain is ready to explode from exposition.

Newton’s Third Law:

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Well, shit, if that ain’t the truth. Not just for physics, either. Suddenly, the fear of karma from meddling in Ben and Daizy’s love lives, the sneaking out and longing moments with Steve, creeps up on me. I know if Ben finds out about either I’m dead, and the one person who truly holds my fate in the palm of his hands is…

Eddie. Who’s passed out halfway draped on top of me, beer can still in his hand and resting on his chest. I shake my head and suppress a laugh as I reach for my phone and carefully snap a picture of him before he can stir awake. I put a lot of faith in this idiot, because if he told Ben about half the things I tell him about I’d be dead. The front door opens and slams violently, a huffing and red faced Ben in its wake. Eddie jolts awake, spilling beer all over himself. “Ah, hell…” he murmurs sleepily. Manifesting as a big storm cloud—Cumulonimbus, or whatever that kid from Up said—Ben storms through the apartment, leaving electricity in his wake. His thundering footsteps bounce off the hallway walls, stopping only to open and close his bedroom door with a hammering thud.

From his place across from us, Steve perches an arm over the headrest of the couch, twisting to look into the gloomy hallway. He spins to look at us, expression somber. I lift my shoulders in a brief waiver and frown. I look at him expectantly. Do something. He nods, sighing, “Yeah, I got him.” Then he’s up and gone down the hall, a faint knock on Ben’s door before the creaking of old brass door hinges.

It’s solemn and quiet the rest of the night. I’ve avoided moving my schoolwork to my bedroom under the guise of waiting for Ben and Steve to return. In actuality, the idea of inhabiting that room without Daizy feels so wrong. She’d helped me pick out my bedsheets and pillowcases, taped every poster and Polaroid to the pale blue walls. It was Daizy who found a spider in the windowsill and slid the glass open to release it rather than smoosh it, she who meticulously decorated my bathroom in a blue and gold color scheme. Feeling suffocated and suddenly wanting nothing more than to be alone, I close my Physics textbook. I lean over his body, flicking Eddie to wake him up. “Get up and go take a shower. You smell like beer.” I instruct, pushing his legs off my lap. A fraction of me is aware I’m taking my frustrations out on him. I know it isn’t fair but I almost can’t control it, neglecting any impulse control in favor of auto piloting to my bedroom.

Daizy made the bed after we got ready for the day. I never make the bed. Before she left, she watered the purplish-blue succulent I’ve had for years, it’s life depending solely on her, because I always forgot to water it. I glance at the plant’s spiky edges. Sorry little guy, you’re gonna die in this house. I look around the room and see so much of my best friend and find solace in the fact that she’ll always be around. She’s left her mark on this place, that’s for sure. I tug my backpack onto the bed and plug my laptop in, playing an ungodly game of Catchup as a result of my horrendous slacking over the weekend. My eyelids grow heavy, time ticking by absently as the mountain of work never seems to shrink. I contemplate throwing away my education in favor of sleep. Just as I’m about to give up on my efforts and fall asleep with a book still in hand, there’s a knock on my door. So faint, timid, that I almost don’t catch it. I shake myself awake, assuming it’s Ben ready to spill his guts about Daizy.

I hop to the door, swinging it open, but it isn’t Ben. Steve stands there, his unexpected presence causing me to jump.

“Hey…sorry, were you asleep?” His eyes rake over my disheveled clothes and messy hair.

“Yeah, I mean no. Sort of, but it’s fine,” I excuse groggily, rubbing my eyes and surely smearing the makeup I hadn’t bothered to remove yet. “How’s Ben?” I breathe, leaning against the door.

He runs a hand through that damn perfect hair of his. He’s so pretty it makes me wanna punch him sometimes. “Asleep now. But devastated. Said he messed up and he’s in love with her,” It feels like confidential information shared between two men, something I shouldn’t know, but wasn’t it already obvious? “That’s the first time he’s admitted it aloud.”

“Well, shit. Couple hours late much?” I gripe. I’m annoyed. Ben’s had like, twenty years to figure this crap out, and he waits until the second she leaves to fit the puzzle pieces together?

“Tell me about it,” Steve sneers. We share breathy, hushed laughs, and I realize how uncharacteristically quiet the apartment is. I don’t realize how we drift closer with every nanosecond, just an eighth of an inch more every time. “Hey,” he says suddenly, spooking me with his minty breath fanning my face. I look up at him, blinking rapid and uncontrolled. “Do you actually have a boyfriend?”

I’m taken aback by his boldness, a stark contrast to the vulnerability on his face. My mouth goes dry. I’m sure as hell awake now. “No, I don’t,” I recall what Daizy had said at the cafe and grimace. “Daizy was trying to… bail me out,” I admit.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

“From what?” Steve presses just a little closer, our folded arms knocking into each other I stretch to lean against my door.

Oh no.

How does one tell the most beautiful man on the planet that he is so, without sounding like a total creep?

Emboldened by the way he’s looking at me, a dark look in his eyes, I finally speak. “I’ve got a huge crush on this guy. If my brother ever found out, well... y’know how he is,” I’m careful with my wording, ambiguous on purpose.

Steve smirks. “Lucky guy.” There’s a certain thrill behind his eyes.

I return his sass. “Yes he is.”

There it is. That tension. And I’m drowning in it. I silently beg him to be the first to say something, to reach into the murky depths and rescue me. Some sort of clarity, or closure, whatever you’d want to call it. My body burns with a mix of emotions, battling it out for power. Ultimately, a victor emerges. The desire to have something I want. Damned be the consequences. Before the bravery can abandon me just as swiftly as it came, I pivot my body so that the doorway is open all the way to him. “I don’t think I’ll be sleeping much tonight. Care to watch a movie?”

We could watch one in the shared living room of the apartment we both pay rent to occupy, but what’d be the fun in that? The risk is exhilarating, and the potential to accidentally awaken Eddie or Ben with TV noise poses a great threat to already risky business. It’s innocent enough, but oh, I can’t imagine what the boys would have to say about this. Steve’s staring at me like I’ve grown a second head and I fear I have misjudged our situation entirely. At least once I’ve squashed my mortification, I can say I tried. The rejection’s not enough to break my heart, but I do have an uncomfortable feeling in my chest. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes past me and flops onto my bed. Textbooks and worksheets tussle against the comforter due to his disruption. Amused, he raises his eyebrows and picks up a stack of papers.

“For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction,” he parrots, looking up at me through his eyelashes. “What is this, psychology?”

I roll my eyes and snatch the paper from his hand as I sit cross-legged on the bed. “It’s physics, you nut,”

“You have to take physics?”

“Do you even know what I’m getting my degree in?” I sass, stacking my schoolwork on my nightstand.

“Of course I do. Biology.” A long pause. He pouts in thought. “…I see now how my question was stupid.”

I giggle and sink into the pillows, scanning for movies on my laptop.

“You better not make me watch Magic Mike or some shit,” he jokes, settling in to the bed. He stretches his arm over his head and to the side as he turns on his side, inadvertently wrapping it damn near around me. Just a few inches of space linger between us, but those few feel like miles of desert heat.

“Why, afraid you’ll like it?” I tease.

“Nah, afraid you will.” He says simply. I purse my lips and try not to make my confusion noticeable. What exactly do you mean by that?

“We’re watching Pitch Perfect.” I announce definitively, selecting the movie in my downloads.

Steve groans about how that’s a chick flick. I hit him with a pillow and inform him it is not a chick flick, but a comedic early-2000s classic. He doesn’t argue, our laughter simmering down only as the movie begins, and a comfortable silence falls between us.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

It’s dark when I wake up. Early. Too damn early.

The dip of the bed moving is what stirs me from slumber. I groggily force my eyes to open ever-so-slightly as I roll over with a huff. I barrel into the solid frame of a warm stranger. I’m wide awake now. My eyes shoot open and I’m greeted with Steve’s—now startled awake—expression.

I crawl backwards, away from him like he’s on fire. I feel fumbling, a mess of tangled limbs and blankets. Crawling, twisting, running away, until…

THUNK!

I land hard on my ass on the carpet. Wind knocked out of me, I lay flat on my back, hands on my temples as a wheeze leaves my deflated lungs.

“Jesus Christ, Sunny!” Steve exasperates, crawling across the mountain of blankets to peek over the side of the bed. Tufts of chocolate hair and curious hazel eyes. “Are you alright?” He’s so worried it’s adorable. I giggle uncontrollably and he sighs. “God, you’re such a shithead. Don’t freak me out like that.”

“Name calling, huh? Says the man asleep in my bed,” I tease, snatching a pillow from the ground and springing up to hit him with it lightly.

“You don’t like sleepovers, Honey?”

That one’s new, and it settles differently in my gut than the others. Deflecting my emotions, I shove him and for my own sake, he pretends I’m super strong and tumbles off the bed. I look at the clock. 5:32 AM. We have to quit meeting like this, Steve Harrington.

“You gotta get out of here before Ben turns you inside out.”

“We weren’t doing anything,” he offers obviously. Duh.

“You think he’s gonna believe that?” I snort, folding my arms across my chest.

Steve’s got this look that says, ‘you’re right’, but damned if he’ll ever admit it aloud. There’s a silent agreement between the two of us to peek into the hallway for life before he makes a break for it to his bedroom. I stick my head out first then Steve does as well, granting me no personal space as he towers over me. His hair brushes in my face and I fan it away with annoyance. The hall’s pitch black, the apartment stagnant. No life has crossed these floors in hours. We’re in the clear. I shove Steve out of the room and he trips on the way out, catching himself in time to make minimal noise. I give him a warning glance and he shrugs.

Someone clears their throat from the end of the hall. Shrouded in darkness, sitting backwards in a chair against Ben’s bedroom door. “Well, what’s goin’ on here?” Ben’s voice struggles to keep steady as his accent from home leaks through his Chicago one.

“Oh fuck.” Steve sighs.

Oh fuck indeed.

“Do I even need to give you a chance to explain yourself, or should I just kill you now?” Ben stands and takes the minimal strides to cross the distance between Steve and him.

“Totally get how bad this looks. But it’s not like that,” Steve swears, hands up in surrender.

I step in, desperate to save Steve from the biggest ass-whooping he’ll probably ever receive. “I invited him to watch Pitch Perfect with me last night. Must’ve fallen asleep,”

“So you sleep with my sister,” he sticks a finger in Steve’s face, then turns back to me. “And you, watch Pitch Perfect without me. What is wrong with you? Both of you!”

Steve gives me his millionth bewildered look of the morning. I shake my head. Ben takes movies very seriously, especially ones that he introduced me to. We’d grown up watching that stupid movie, guess he’d taken really it to heart. Didn’t know he had one of those still.

“Clearly you two need to be separated. Harrington, you’re banned to the fire escape!”

This is oh so melodramatic. Yet it’s so on par for my older brother. I guess a part of me assumed the Roommate Agreement was more of a jest than it was a legally binding agreement. Clearly, Benjamin disagrees.

“Why me? It’s forty degrees outside!”

“That penis of yours is clouding your judgement. Maybe it’ll freeze off and you can come back inside.”

Oh my God. The last thing I wanna take part in conversation with Ben about is Steve’s dick. My heart hammers in my ribcage. That seems to be the end of the debate, a hearty silence weighing over the three of us.

Shuffling at the other side of the hall. We turn to see Eddie, stumbling into the hallway while rubbing sleep from his eyes. Feeling eyes on him, he glances up. His eyes shift from my disheveled appearance to Steve’s. This looks bad. Oh so, so bad.

Eddie cracks a grin as he opens the bathroom door. “Sluts.” He chuckles, disappearing into the bathroom.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

**Okay, I’m unsure what to do about the time between when this story starts in the fall and the current season (yay summer’s coming!). Should we do some holiday episodes or just a time skip? Let me know what you think!**

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Taglist—

@g3n3zshack @rawrxbexjealous @melalsworld @adaydreamaway30 @tiptoebabe @micheledawn1975 @crispystarfishhottub @spookysace24 @thehairington86 @cuddlyklaus @mmmunson @pleasantsoulcolor @mysticalstar30

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Aaron Quotes

men who are just constantly tired of everything>>>>>

“Well buckle up, wiz kid.”

“So yeah, I am gonna miss you. I’m really gonna miss you.”

“Sue me. Except don’t. My brain is already fried from the financials, I don’t need to throw legalese on top of that.”

“Fuck it. There’s nothing in here I can’t replace. I want you."

“Oliver”

“I didn’t say I wanted to spend the day with you, I asked if you wanted to spend the day with me. I asked first.”

"Ell"

“Hey, stop it. Because you know how much I like you running your fingers through my hair. Makes my brain go all fuzzy.”

“I appreciate it. And you.”

“Oh, it’s not playing dirty. It’s just me making you feel good.”

“I didn’t realise I was apparently dating an anthropomorphic backpack.”

“H-hey—stop it. You—no, your kisses are just… it tickled. Shut up. So what if my sides are ticklish, it’s not like that’s weird, you shit.”

“Oh, and now you can’t even find the strength to lift your head out of my lap, hmm? You poor thing. Who knew that being lazy could be so exhausting?”

“I love you very much. Now get off me.”

“You talked a big talk back then. But it turns out you’re just a cuddle-hungry softy after all, huh? Yes you are. At least when you’re still sleepy, anyway.”

“I also know you’re probably the kind to fly off half-cocked and make me chase you down with the SPF 50 like a madman. If for no other reason than to infuriate me.”

“Come here. Come closer. Because I said so.”

“I love you. And I love rain. And I love being with the person I love while it rains. Isn’t that a fun little combo?”

“You are very cute looking up at me like that.”

“Or is the thought of a few more minutes in my arms that much of an imposition? Asshole. Mmm. I love you too.”

“I can’t even try to say a nice thing without you having to get some snark into it, can I? No, I wouldn’t have it any other way. You brat. I love you just as you are.”

“You make me better. And that’s no small order when you’re talking about me, given the high level I already started at.”

“A man’s gotta eat. And you’ve always been my favorite thing on the menu.”

“Oh yes, you’re so put upon. Your evil boyfriend only makes you a whole breakfast spread, he won’t then also let you sleep in even later than you already have.”

“Eli”

“Yes, in a shocking twist, I do find your absence unpleasant. Perish the thought, right?”

“Time spent with the people I care about is important to me. It doesn’t have to be time doing anything special, it doesn’t have to be conversations about our future or some greater purpose or any of that shit, I just want to be with the person that I’m with.”

“Sure, there are plenty of ways to sleep on a couch just fine. It’s your hybrid approach that lands somewhere between gymnast and pretzel that tends to get you in trouble.”

“You’re okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“If it feels like it's coming on again, come tell us, okay?”

“I only met them a handful of times. They're sweet. They laugh a lot. They spent most of the time giving Elliott shit, it was funny. Not in like a mean way, like the way you do when you love somebody that much. They were a good balance for one another.”

“God I sound old. And I feel old. And I’m not, but it feels like it. A grumpy old man. Might as well start yelling at kids to not play so loud in the neighborhood, really complete the image.”

“Stop calling me an old man, only I’m allowed to call me old. Don’t be mean. I’m in a vulnerable state. I need baseless praise.”

“Yes. Holding you feels very productive.”

“Yeah. Let me just rub it on that pretty face for a little bit…”

“ It’d be fine. Almost as fine as you. I’m tired, I’m allowed to be stupid.”

“El, I have never hated you. You’re my little brother, I love you.”

“No the windows are mirrored glass. You should know that, you worked here.”

“Whose is it? Louder”

“Thank you baby. Yeah, thank you for trusting me like you do. [���] All I wanna do is prove myself worthy of that trust.”

[sweptawayghost]

In Dreams Pt.2

PAIRING: Joel Miller X Reader

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Joel is plagued by images of you when he closes his eyes. The dreams aren't stopping and his feelings for you only grow stronger with everyday. As Winter closes in you go on one last unofficial patrol, close proximity makes Joels brain go all stupid.

Hello!!! 

Thank you so much for the support on my first part, it really means the world to me. I’ve got ideas of where I want the story to go but it's gonna be mostly Joel lusting after us for a while. I love when big strong men need to be held and told what a good boy they've been...

If you'd like me to tag you in my next part just let me know. Let me know if I missed any warnings. Thank you so much :) Anything Written like this {Italic} indicated Joel's inner thoughts. Word count 4.1K

CHAPTER WARNING: Mention of male masturbation, mentions of alcohol, Age gap, Mentions of creampie, sharing the same bed, Pet name (we call Joel baby), some fluff, some smut

It wasn't just once. Of course it wouldn't be. It wasn't the only night he dreamt about you either. Too many nights he woke up in full body sweats, which was not new to him but the reason was new. 

The reason being you. 

He would think about all the times your fingertips would brush his skin, he would think about the way you would grab his arm when walking down the street with him, he would think about the way you grabbed a fist full of his hair when it had started growing out of control “you need a haircut Miller” the act of your touch was innocent but it lit a fire in Joel’s gut. 

Every little touch stuck with him and followed him around for the rest of the day like a drop of blood on a white shirt, almost haunting him. It would follow him to bed at night as well. When he settled into the comforting silence of his bedroom he could tune everything out like a radio and focus on your voice in his head. 

Some nights he would find himself rutting against the bed for relief, his eyes sealed shut, softly whimpering, wishing you were beneath him, Talking him through it, telling him how good he’s making you feel. He wanted to watch your eyes roll back, mouth agape gasping for air, moaning into his ear. God get a grip of yourself Miller. But he couldn't help himself. Images of you overriding every other thought in his brain almost like he was a puppet and someone else was pulling the strings. 

He was afraid of how much he wanted you. He would be consumed by his orgasm, his body stuttering as he held a death grip on the bathroom sink or the sheets benether him, always with the image of you flooding his mind, smiling at him, proud of yourself for how crazy you were making him, how desperate he was to cum and how you would let him do it inside of you because he was being so good for you. Ropes of his spent painting the soft skin of his stomach and the rough skin of his hand. A flash of heat rushed through him as he stifled his moans and let his body vibrate against the bed as he came down from his high.

The lonely empty feeling would chase him around all night. Some nights it would be easy to scare it off and find sleep. Can you call this sleep? Other nights he wasn't as lucky.  

He thinks about the time the two of you stumbled home from the Bison, your arm linked around his elbow as you walked side by side down the silent streets of Jackson. You had told him that the silence was sometimes deafening, how it sometimes felt worse than being outside the walls. He agreed. He confessed that he didn't sleep the first week of being here and how much worse he felt now that he had genuine safety. He wanted to let you into his head. 

If I hadn't just met you I would tell you everything. I would tell you about Sarah, I'd tell you the truth about Ellie. I would tell you about the ache in my chest when I wake up and I'd tell you how much it’s eased since I’ve met you. I'd tell you about how much I like you being around. You'd probably think I’m insane if you knew how much I think about you.

She trusts you Joel. Dont fuck this up by letting your dick do your thinking for you. 

The guilt would start to eat him alive. God she's your friend, she trusts you and you're laying in bed thinking about how good it would be to creampie her. You’re fucked up.

If he couldn't sleep he would find himself sitting up with a book or fiddling with one of his wood carvings.  

On nights where that didn't help he would take a walk...

///

“Is your girlfriend coming over as well?” Ellie called out to him from the dining room as she placed cutlery out on the table. 

She had invited a friend over for dinner. Something Joel hasn’t expected, especially so soon and especially after the way she spoke about some of the other kids in town. Really he knew it wasn't just a friend. Ellie had been acting differently, humming to herself and smiling all the time, not nearly as quick witted and all day dreamy. She’s in love. 

“Ellie” He called out to her from the kitchen averting his gaze from the stove “She aint my girlfriend… and yes she's coming over” He felt the tips of his ears burn, he could blame the tint of red that covered his face on the heat from the stove but he wouldn't have an excuse for the smile that followed. 

It had only been a few weeks since your first meeting but you had somehow integrated yourself into Joel's life. On the days that you didn't patrol together he would come visit you at the stables or the greenhouse when he was finished at work. He would come past your house to split wood or mow your yard. He fixed your front door weeks ago, he cleaned out your guttering and was able to fix that window in your bedroom that you were never able to open. 

Ellie took to you right away. She would look for any excuse to invite you over, Joel never put up a fight. He wanted you around as much as Ellie did. Many nights he would come home to a basket of fresh produce on his bench or a plate of brownies on the bench. In the long list of gifts you gave him, the friendship you shared with Ellie was the most valuable and irreplaceable. She looked up to you. 

When Sarah was alive, Joel worried that she would have questions he couldn't answer. Girly questions. Questions that would be as uncomfortable to ask as they would be the answer. Of course Ellie wasn't like most kids her age but some things never really change. Some things you just don't talk to your dad about. 

Sometimes he would just sit there and watch the two of you talking on the porch. He liked watching the way the pair of you would throw your heads back in laughter, slapping each other's arms and shoulders, he could watch it all day. Or the two of you sitting on his couch scribbling into notepads and books occasionally showing each other things you had written down or drawn. The hushed whispers at the dinner table when he wasn't paying attention. Ellie taking full advantage of his deafness. Or some nights you would be walking her back home with an arm linked in hers or thrown over her shoulder. Something Ellie would continue to say she hated but secretly loved. In a lot of ways you treated her like she was your sister. If you and Ellie are sisters that would make me… Yuck.

Ellie jumped when she heard the knock on the door. She was off all afternoon, fidgety and jittery. Ringing her fingers and cracking her knuckles when her hands were idle before wiping her palms on her jeans. Small things you think I don't notice. Dropping the remaining utensils. 

“I'll get it!” she shouted as she turned to run towards the sound, joel could hear the soft thump of her socked feet on the worn hardwood of the floor. He heard the door open and felt the cold air sweep through followed by an “oh, it's just you” He let his lips curl into a smile. 

You slid into the kitchen like you usually do, your shoes and jacket forgotten in the lounge room. Joel loved it when you wore your hair down. He loved seeing the way your jeans hung around your waist and he fucking loved when you didnt wear a bra. Like tonight. He tried not to notice and he tried not to look but sometimes he thinks you did it on purpose. Stop it Miller.

“Nothing sexier than a man in the kitchen” you blurted out at him from the doorway, he looked over at you, he didn't miss the way your eyes lingered on his form.

“Shut up” He shook his head and averted his attention back to the pot on the stove. He couldn't stop the smile that formed on his lips but he didn't mind that you saw it. He lowered the heat on the stove before turning to lean on the counter. 

You placed a bottle on the kitchen island before jumping up to sit on it. A recurring gift of Seth's finest home brewed whisky. The bottle in similar shape to the one you gave him weeks ago. 

There have been many nights since then that the two of you would drown in the amber liquid. Each time only strengthened his affection for you. 

One night he made a confession to you about the pit in his stomach and the hole in his heart, he told you about the nightmares he had almost every time he closed his eyes and the suffocating feeling he had once he woke from them. He couldn't look at you although he felt you searching for his eyes. 

He heard the shuffled movement from where you sat beside him on the couch. He closed his eyes when he felt your hand on the back of his neck, fingertips cold despite the heat coming from the fire, he surrendered when you pulled him into your chest and he let his arms wrap around your middle. 

He didn't mind letting you see this part of him. The soft and broken part. He never felt as though he needed to hide from you. 

“You're okay, baby” you whispered into his hair. That was all it took for him to crumble into you. 

Baby

Did you mean to say that? 

Baby

Had it slipped out by accident? 

Baby

Did you call everyone that? He searched his brain for the answer to the questions, coming up empty.

Baby

He tried to think about the last time he let himself fall apart. When was the last time you let yourself feel? When was the last time someone just held you? 

You would never know what it meant to him. But he would never know what it meant to you. 

While the safety inside the walls of Jackson made his stomach churn, the safety he felt being in your arms was inviting and warm.

Joel Miller, for the first time in a long time, was safe. Wow   

When the morning came he found himself still in your embrace, slotted between your thighs, his head resting against your stomach with his hands pressed into your back, your hand tangled in his hair as the other rested on his shoulder.

The fire no more than dying embers in the hearth leaving a chill in the air. He would have noticed if it wasn't for the blanket that was draped around him and the heat coming off of your body, particularly right between your legs. He ignored the ache in his back and the cramping in his slumped hip as looked over your sleeping form. You looked so peaceful, almost angelic with the soft light of the morning flooding in through the windows, the peaks of your breasts pushing through your shirt, nipples hardened from the cold air in the room, Your hair falling so lazily over the couch cushion. 

You didn't try to ask Joel questions about his confession the next day, for that he was grateful. He already felt bad enough having said it at all. She thinks you're weak Miller. She feels bad for you that's why she's here, not because she cares, do you really think she’d like someone like you? Despite the insecure voice in his head giving him a beating, he wouldn't forget the way you held him, he wouldn't forget the way you looked down at him once you woke up, he wouldn't forget the slow rise and fall of your chest as you slept and he wouldn't forget the heat that seeped into him from between your legs.  

Baby

“Hello? Are you even listening to me?” Joel didn't realise you had been talking to him, wrapped up in the memory or your embrace. 

“I just missed the last bit” Good lie Miller. You rolled your eyes at him knowing he didn't hear a word. You jumped down from the counter and closed the gap between the two of you before reaching out to grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger. 

“If you weren't so handsome i would slap the shit out of you” 

Joel tried to pay attention to what you said next which was hard given you didn't let go of his chin and the smell of your soap was intoxicating and the fact that you had called him handsome. The heat from your body and your constant eye contact making it hard for him to focus on anything else besides the pressure building in his jeans. What did she say? Six days? Something about patrol and the snow. Let's go before the snow or something like that? Does it really matter? Just say yes to whatever she asks. 

Another knock on the door followed by a shout from Ellie breaking the moment. 

///

Joel liked that you never really got small talk. You would ask him strange things like, what colour his first bike was or how old he was when he shaved for the first time. Why would you wanna know? His favourite was when you asked him to tell you about his first girlfriend.

"Hmm, I think her name was Stacy?" He said it like a question "Lacie?" He clicked his finger and pointed at you "no! Macie" He looked over the top of the flames to find your face staring back at him.

 Normally a fire is a huge no no for Joel but the cold night air coupled with the pelting rain left him with no choice. The two of you had been out for two days now, taking shelter in whatever somewhat secure structure you came across at nightfall and the rain was welcome, covering any sounds the pair of you would make as well as washing away the build up of sweat and dirt that covered his skin. Soon snow would blanket the ground of jackson, the sightings of infected would lessen and the town would slow for a while. 

You had dragged him out for one last trip before it got too cold and too dangerous to be out for an extended period of time. 

“Do you think that you loved her?” you asked as you laid down on your side with an elbow propping your head up. He mirrored your posture and paused to think about it.

Joel could count on one hand how many people he actually loved and Lacie. Wait no, Macie definitely wasn't one of them. 

“ No” He relaxed into your gaze from across the fire, the cold air pricking the back of his neck. “ I was young and love really wasn't the first thing on my mind. Even if I told her I loved her I probably didn't mean it.” it might have sounded cruel but it was the truth. 

He would tell you about the movies they would see together and about the music they would listen to. He would describe the creek they would swim in during summer and how they would ride their bikes around town before Joel finally saved enough money to buy a car. 

"What kind of car did you drive?" 

He found it cute that you cared, that you would even know what he was talking about if he told you. 

"It was a red pickup truck, hunk of shit really but it was mine" He felt his cheeks heat up as you continued your relentless eye contact. He felt like a doddering old man reliving stories of his glory days when you asked him these kinds of questions. But you would watch him with close intent. Hanging on to his every word, mouth slightly agape as you listened to him as if he was the most interesting person telling you the most interesting story. 

You turned onto your stomach bringing your elbows up and placing a hand on either side of your face to support the weight of your head, eyes sparkling over at him. I wish she would stop looking at me like that. If she only knew what she did to me. 

"I wish I was lucky enough to have a car" 

You said this sincerely but Joel remembers the car very well. Ripped up fabric seating, no plastic cover on the dashboard, absolutely no air conditioning and only the driver's side window went down. Not to mention the fuel gauge would stick so he was caught out more than once on the side of the road with an empty tank. 

"wasn't a prize" he'd said, looking deeper into the flames, you were still looking at him, studying his expression as he got lost in the memory. You seemed closer than you did before.

"Did you fuck her in the back or what?" You had asked him so bluntly without emotion as if you had asked him how his day was. He stifled a laugh before letting his eyes drift over to you. He could see you weren't really joking although you did have a hint of a grin on your lips and a glint in your eyes that screamed ‘I'm trying to make you uncomfortable.’ 

He could feel his own grin creeping over his face, you were trying to make him uncomfortable and it was working. Joel would tell you anything you wanted to hear as long as he could keep looking at you like this, head tilted a little bit as if he was telling you the most interesting story you ever heard, eyes blown wide, lazy smile on your lips just slightly showing your teeth. God why do you have to look at me that way. 

"Wow" you started "Such a romantic, Miller" Your smile no longer a lazy grin but a real one, the one he loved to see you wear. He blamed the heat of the fire for the flush of his checks when you asked if he was blushing. He blamed the day's hike for his urgency to sleep and his sudden silence. But he blamed you for the swell of his cock. It's just the way she's looking at me, I can't help that. He had his eyes closed but he could hear the rustling of your sleeping bag getting closer and closer to where he was laying. 

“Let me sleep next to you, I'm freezing my ass off” It wasn't a question, you were already doing it and you probably wouldn't have stopped even if he had said no. you started to unzip your bag and he followed suit, clipping the zips together before you crawled inside it. It was still a fairly snug fit, not that he was complaining, he would take any opportunity to be this close to you. Just don't get a full blown hard on and you’ll be fine. When you said ‘sleep next to you’ he didn't think this is what you meant. 

You settled in beside him, pressing your back to his chest, the swell of your ass pressed up against him and the smell of your hair mixed with your sweat filled his nose. You grabbed his arm and slung it over your hip, silently giving him permission to touch you so he slid his other arm under your neck and pulled you in closer. Joel could be wrong, but you didn't feel particularly cold. 

“Can you tell me more” you asked him, turning your head slightly over your shoulder in his direction. “About your life before” 

He started talking, he talked about his childhood, he talked about his mama, he talked about his favourite meals and he told you about his ambitions and his dreams. Periodically pulling a giggle from you as you swatted his hand. At some point you had rolled over to face him, draping a leg over his waist, giving him that same look from before, listening like your life depended on it, looking at him like he was the only person on earth, like he was the one who hung the moon in the sky.

He described the neighbourhood he lived in, He mentioned sarahs name in passing a few times, never once did you press for more than what he gave you. One day he would tell you about her, but not tonight. Maybe when I'm drunk. That’ll make it easier. 

You brought a hand up to cup his check, gently rubbing the stubbled hair that lived there with your thumb, catching the corner of his lip as you passed back and forth. 

“I love when you talk about her.” you told him. He was putty in your hands. 

Your soft whispers would stay with him. He knew in the morning you wouldn't say anything and you knew he wouldn't say anything. He didn't know when he fell asleep but he only hopes it was after you did. You would follow him into his dreams that night, as you did so many nights nowadays. Your laugh, your smile, your hand on the apple of his cheek, Sweaty skin sticking to his, how you would look on top of him, tits bouncing in his face as you moaned out his name over and over like a prey, all exposed skin and desperate kisses. He was clinging to every moan, every breath, every whimper he could.  Wake up.

The smell of coffee was the first thing that hit him, next was the absence of you next to him, then it was the ache of his swollen member against the zip on his jeans. He turned to look for you, the smell of fire was next, followed by sound of rain against the rotting bored of the shed you had called camp that night. He saw you sitting at the foot of the sleeping bag's knee propped up as you scribbled in your notebook, a sight he’d seen a million times. It was a dark brown leather covered book, not thick enough to weigh you down enough to make itself known. It had clippings, photographs of people you never knew and would never know, stamps and postcards, elastic bands, paper clips and torn weathered notes jammed throughout it, he had even seen you pull flowers and leaves out of it ‘flower pressing’ you had told him. 

What he wouldn't give to get his hands on it, to see what made you tick, to rip open your head and dig around. You had given him a lot over the few weeks that you had known him but it still somehow wasn't enough. You had confided in him about mistakes you had made, about the things you had gone through to get here, uncalled for fights and your old patrol partner. Your old patrol partner. You had only ever brought them up once, no descriptor, no he or she, nothing. He had come up blank trying to get information out of Tommy. You had only said it once but that was all he needed. 

You had told him about your relationships, the good, the bad and he ugly. The serious ones and the not so serious ones and even the experimental ones ‘ I was drunk okay?’ you had told him ‘but even if i wasn't I still would have done it’. But he always felt like a part of you was hidden away. 

The soft slap of pages closing broke him from his thoughts.

“Good morning” your voice came out as a whisper, close and thick with sleep. You extended your hand out to him, holding the metal lid from the thermos, still half full with the coffee you just brewed. 

When you packed up to leave that morning you didn't unzip the sleeping bags. You still didn’t unzip it when you set up camp that night. 

Whispers. Dreams. Fire. Rain. Coffee. You.

Secrets. Hard on. Fire. Rain. Coffee. Notebook. You. 

Mumble. Slumber. Fire. Notebook. Throbbing. You.

“Joel” Your voice broke through the silence of the morning waking him from filthy dreams of you.

“you moan a lot in your sleep” 

@orcasoul

@vodkasicecream

[wynnyfryd]

“Stee-ee-eeve,” Robin groans miserably into the Family Video countertop, voice muffled by her folded arms. “I’m gonna get fired.”

“What? Why?” Steve gives her a sharp look, because Robin just came out of the back office after a private conversation with Keith and oh god, if Robin gets fired then Steve will have to quit, and he hates job hunting, man, he really—

Robin lifts her head, leans forward on her elbows, and says in a rushed stage whisper, “I cannot stop being a total asshole to Keith!”

Steve huffs a laugh.

“It’s not funny!” she hisses. “Our very jobs are at stake!” Her hands reach up to tug the ends of her hair into two tight fists, and her eyes go wide with worry.

Okay. Steve can be a good friend. “What happened?”

“He pulled me back there to tell me that he’s- ugh” —Robin’s face looks like she just bit into moldy leftovers— “that he’s going into his dad’s insurance business and would I like to go to lunch with him to talk about insurance? Long term care insurance, Steve!”

Steve’s cracking up by the end of her rant, because her voice has cranked up to full volume and her hands are flapping all over the place like her wrists aren’t totally screwed on right and he really just loves his best friend so much.

“Yeah, yeah, keep laughing, pal.”

“Pal?” Steve laughs.

“Whatever! Anyway, so he says all of that to me, and my stupid brain-to-mouth filter just evaporates, apparently, because I look at him and suddenly cannot contain the PFFFT noise that wants to come out of me. Only I squeeze my mouth shut too tight, so instead, I end up making this high, crunchy snort sound like kkkrkrkrht to his face!”

Tears. There are tears pouring out of Steve’s nose. He’s doubled over laughing with his hands braced on his knees, and Robin whines “oh, my god!” and thumps him right in the middle of his spine.

“Ow!”

“Stop laughing and tell me what to do!”

“Okay! Jesus! Stop thumping me!”

“No!” And now Robin’s laughing, too, unleashing a flurry of blows all over his arms and ribs with her freakishly long fingers.

“Excuse me,” the stern, quivering voice of an old woman cuts through their slap fight. They turn in unison to see a mop of tight gray curls barely peeking over the candy display. (Oh, god. Robin’s gonna spend a whole week now talking about how Sophia Petrillo came in to return a video, he just knows it.) “Are either of you two going to assist me?”

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Question...? Act III - “Situations, circumstances, miscommunications…”

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Reader Summary - After years of back and forth, years of unknowns, a lifetime of questions, it's time for answers.

Question...? Mini Series List | Steve Rogers Masterlist

10 Years Earlier...

“Can I ask you a question?”

Steve jolts at the sound of your voice coming from the other side of his locker door. “Jeez, you scared the hell out of me.”

He slams the locker shut to find you standing there with an odd expression. You ask again, hoping he doesn't notice the urgency in your expression, “Sorry… so can I?”

He nods, “Sure.”

“You can’t get mad.”

“I won’t get mad,” Steve promises. “Seriously, what’s up with you, you’re all -”

“Bucky and I kissed,” you blurt.  

Thoughts race through Steve’s head, and yet, there’s not a single adequate response he can say to finding that out. Words fall out of his mouth without a thought, “That wasn’t a question.”

“Are you mad?” you hedge. You see Steve’s eyes examine your face, trail down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. There’s a blank look on his face as his lips purse. “You’re upset.”

“That you kissed Bucky?” he repeats. 

Once again, he realizes that there’s a million other words to accurately describe his tumult. Then again, he’s not sure what he feels. He’s not sure what he’s entitled or allowed to feel. Technically, you were just friends. You were all friends.

You and him. Him and Bucky. You and Bucky.

Was he allowed to feel a tinge of anger? A murmur of heartbreak? A healthy dose of envy? 

“Lower your voice!” you hiss. 

He didn’t even realize the volume of his words, but as he looks around the hallway, he can tell there’s a few people sparing second and third glances at the two of you. “Why? You had no problem kissing him. Why do you care if anyone knows?”

“It was a stupid game of truth or dare! You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” 

“I’m making a big deal of nothing? You kissed my best friend!” 

“He’s my best friend too!” 

“Bucky knows how I-” His brain finally catches up to his mouth to stop the rest of his sentence. ‘Bucky knows how I feel about you.’ He definitely can't admit that. Not now. Not after you and Bucky kissed. 

“Bucky knows how you what?”

“Bucky knows how I feel about the two of you getting drunk and doing stupid things at parties.” 

“I’m sorry. We talked about it this morning-” 

In that moment his brain finally catches up, putting the rest of the puzzle together as the pieces fall into place. That's why he walked by himself to school this morning. That's why you and Bucky, both chronically late, were already at school by the time Steve made it to his locker. “That’s why you two left early, why you walked to school together without me.” 

“Yes,” you morosely reply. “And it didn’t mean anything to either of us. We were just drunk and playing the game. Nothing is gonna change.” 

He rolls his eyes like he clearly doesn't believe you. He knew this song and dance. He'd seen it a dozen times over. Maybe not with you and Bucky, but plenty of times in the hallways of high school. It always started out small. A kiss. A date.

And he couldn't think of anything worse than watching you and Bucky fall in love.

There would be nothing worse than watching Bucky get to take you on a date. Watching Bucky get to hold your hand. Bucky getting to dance with you. And then that classic bitter ending of any high school romance.

In that moment, one way or another, Steve is certain he's about to lose at least one best friend.

“Nothing?” 

“No. We’re all friends. We’re all just friends…." In his own whirlwind of emotions, Steve misses the hopeful look in your eye as you stare at him. "Right?” 

“Right." The words are bitter on his tongue. He knows it. He knows that you know it too. "We’re all just friends.” 

"Who's still friends?" Bucky abruptly asks, suddenly appearing behind Steve. 

Steve jolts at the sound of Bucky's voice from behind him. He turns around, glaring at Bucky, “Will everyone quit doing that?” 

“What’s with him?” Bucky doesn’t even need your reply to know exactly what was on Steve’s mind this morning. Bucky groans, shooting you a disapproving look, “You told him.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to lie to him."

Bucky rubs the back of his neck, shaking his head at you, “And I told you that I would tell him!” 

Steve's never felt more of an outsider as he does watching you and Bucky bicker back and forth about who reserved the right to tell him about his best friends kissing at a party that Steve was stupid enough to leave you and Bucky at alone.

He mentally curses himself. He should've insisted that he walked you home. He should've told Bucky to sober up before he walked you home. Even as mad as he is in the moment, he knows a completely sober Bucky never would've knowingly kissed the girl he liked. 

Even with this knowledge, there's a very big part of Steve that feels the compulsive urge to strangle Bucky. He settles for a demanding huff, “Will you two stop talking about me like I’m not standing right here?” 

“Sorry,” you and Bucky simultaneously reply.  

Just as he's about to demand the whole recounting of events, the school bell above rings out through the hallway. You sigh, gripping your textbooks in your hand, “I have to go. I can’t be late again or I’ll get detention.” 

Steve nods once, muttering a flippant, “See ya.” 

Bucky winces. “Steve?” 

Steve slams his locker door shut. He tosses Bucky an agitated look, “What?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry?" Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes as he debates the ethics of beating Bucky with his heavy textbook. "You’re sorry?” 

“It was a stupid game, that’s it. We literally just pecked. I swear.” 

“Is that supposed to make it better? You still kissed the girl that you knew I liked!” 

“I know, I know, and I really am sorry. It was a shitty thing I did, but you can’t blame her for it. She has no idea how you feel. Mostly because you won’t tell her.” 

Steve tosses up his free arm. “So now it’s my fault that I don’t want to ruin our entire friend group?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Bucky backtracks. 

“You didn’t have to.” 

Bucky takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he was the one in the wrong here, that Steve had every right to be upset with him, “I’m sorry, Steve, but I promise you, she’s yours through and through.” 

Steve sarcastically slaps his forehead, “Oh, you’re right, I forget, you usually kiss the best friend of the guy you like. Silly me!” 

“Do you know what she said to me the second I pulled away?” 

Steve takes a long moment. He does his best to shove that image out of his head. He'd spent four years of high school watching Bucky have his pick of girl. He watched him go on date after date. Have kiss after kiss. And the picture of you and Bucky, kissing, touching, was taunting him in the empty school hallway. “What?” 

Bucky sighs, swallowing all his pride as he admits, “She said, and I quote, I can’t do this to Steve... And then she wiped her mouth.”

Steve's eyes widen, a laugh bubbling from his lips, “She wiped her mouth?” 

“Right in front of everyone," Bucky affirms. "Was real good for my ego.” 

Steve offers Bucky a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you for telling me that.” 

“You should just be honest. Tell her how you feel.” 

"What if it ruins everything?"

"And what if it doesn't?" 

Question...? Mini Series List Inspired By Taylor Swift Steve Rogers Masterlist

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[giasfolklore]

ONE OF YOUR GIRLS

“i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.”

꒰ synopsis ꒱ྀི with the need to stand up for working overtime and still not getting paid enough you were challenged to talk to the chief of the medical department but things took a wild turn there and guess what? It wasn’t just talking.

୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ note: posting today about my cutie!! this is all just porn with plot tbh not proofread

꒰ content warnings ꒱ྀི nsfw (17+), fem!reader, praise, dom!geto, oral (f! recieving), pussy drunk geto, rushed, unprotected sex, porn with plot.

｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡

I imagined trudging into his office and slamming the door shut. Before he could ask me what I was doing, I’d take of my shirt. Then I’d walk over and sit on him, and kiss him. Let him remove my bra. He’d have a hand on my back and the other on the back of my head. That way I couldn’t back out. I’d pull off his shirt and work with his belt.

Once the fly was down he’d carry me onto his desk, and we’d work together to push off all the papers. Then he’d pull out his cock, and quickly pull down my underwear. He’d be so horny that my panties would only be at my knees and he’d penetrate.

Then he’d pump as hard as he could and I’d moan as loud as I wanted to. Who cares who hears? I’d squeeze the cum out of him. It would be something that seemed perpetual. And, no, there’s no part where I imagine us putting our clothes back on. We wouldn’t. Instead, we’d try some more; on the floor, me sitting on him, me against the wall. We’d fuck our brains out.

These scenes repeated and altered themselves in my mind as I bit into my sandwich.

“… right, y/n?”

I turn suddenly, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Our overtime. It’s unfair,” Paris said.

“Yeah,” Ashley agreed, “We’re overworked and underpaid.” As she continued her speech, the other nurses were nodding their heads and making affirmative noises. “They should stop letting the doctors get off so easy. Otherwise, pay us more or hire more of us. Now who’s gonna’ march into the chief’s office and tell him?”

“Not me,” Paris shook her head, “It’s a lost cause. He’s too busy with his divorce and whatnot.”

“I’ll do it,” I said without thinking. They all began to laugh.

“You?” Ashley said in disbelief.

“Yeah, no offense, y/n, but you’re not exactly the type who wins arguments,” Paris said.

Another girl, I forgot her name, said, “Yeah, what’re you going to do?” She began to mock me; put her hands behind her back, looked down at the ground, and wiggled her feet, “Umm… sir… C-c-could you please…” She didn’t even finish. They all laughed once more.

I stood up and threw my sandwich onto the table. “Oh yeah? Watch me.”

I could feel their wide-eyed stares as I marched down the hall. What was I doing? What am I thinking?

That was stupid of me to ask. Of course I know what I’m thinking. The circumstances were perfect. I was thinking to get some, that’s what. This was my chance. I had an excuse to go down to his office.

But when I got there, I choked.

“Hi, y/n,” he said absentmindedly, looking down at his papers. “What do you need?”

“Well, I…” I tried to remember bits and pieces of Ashley’s speech, “We work overtime, and we’re not getting paid enough, and you should pay us more, and hire more nurses, and… Wait, that’s not…” I slammed my forehead with my palm.

Smooth, Tiffany. Smooth. That was definitely sexy. How could he resist you now? Coward.

Suddenly, I thought of kissing him. I imagined him undressing me. I couldn’t think of a good argument. My clit had an itch that only his cock could scratch. It was warm, tingly and empty.

“ y/n-”

“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer,” I barked out, and immediately regretted it.

Overly demanding nurse equals mistress with whip? There are just some lines I can’t cross.

Geto looked up at me. He stood up and said, “Why should I? What will I get out of it? What are you willing to give me in return?”

This is your chance. Make it sexy. Seduce him.

I walked up to him until our faces were only a few inches away. I looked into his eyes and said, “Anything.”

He looked into my eyes, and then down the length of my body. Was he finally noticing me as a woman? Was he sizing me up? Was he looking at my boobs? I sure hoped so.

“On your knees,” he said.

“W-what?” I stuttered.

“You said you’d do anything, right? On your knees,” he demanded.

This wasn’t going the way I planned it, but I had to learn to be flexible if I wanted him to take me seriously. So I got on my hands and knees. Then Ken proceeded to walk around me. I assumed the worst as I heard him shut the door and unzip his fly.

Before I knew it, his cock was right in my face. It was fully awake. White and its tip almost touching my nose.

“Suck me,” he demanded.

Well, at least it’s not anal sex, I rationalized. So I opened my mouth and put his cock in. I tried to move my tongue around, but suddenly his hand was at the back of my head. He jerked my head forward, “Suck me.” Now it was stuck down my throat, and I couldn’t breathe. I began to choke, but he didn’t care. He started pumping, with his hand still at the back of my head, and the tip of his dick was hammering on the back of my throat. I thought I was going to puke.

Before I knew it, Geto was pumping even harder and he began moaning. Then I felt something slimy slide down. I swallowed. The moment he pulled out I started to cough. I ran out of the office as fast as I could.

I hid inside a bathroom stall, ashamed. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be romantic. It was supposed to be a moment where he finally saw me as a sexy, independent and confident woman. But all he needed was to jerk off.

No, c’mon. That was a good thing. I must have gotten his attention. I went out of the stall and looked at myself in the mirror. I washed my face so it wouldn’t seem too puffy. I traced the dark circles under my eyes from all the overtime. That’s sexy, right? The implication of long, sleepless nights, doing unspeakable things from the cover of night-time ‘til the break of dawn. I let my long raven hair out of its bun and shook my head a slightly to give it a messy, bedhead look, to give the idea that I was rolling around in a bed… with someone else. Then I looked at my uniform… Not much I could do in this area… Except maybe…

I went back into the stall and I removed my undershirt. Then I went back to the mirror. Now the silhouette of my black bra was more visible. In fact, the top edges of the cups were peeking out of the collar. Okay. Now I could go back outside.

I walked down the halls and went back to my regular duties. I was both excited and nervous for when the chief would see me again. This was a big hospital, but I knew he was going to look for me.

Before I knew it there was a tap on my shoulder and a sheepish Geto when I turned.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked.

“Sure,” I smiled.

My heart was beating fast as we turned the corner. As we passed the janitor’s closet, I saw an opportunity. I was breaking a lot of personal boundaries today, so what was one more? I opened the door and pulled him in.

“I thought we might need a little privacy for this,” I explained as I closed the door.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “What I asked of you was inappropriate and out of line.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I slowly moved towards him, in an attempt to sound seductive. “I’d do it again, if you wanted.” I very slowly pulled off my shirt. Then I placed my arms around his neck and pushed my crotch up against his, “How about right now?”

Surprisingly enough we began kissing, and it was like I couldn’t pull him close enough to me. I ran my fingers through his hair as the stubble on his chin scratched on my skin. His fingers traced a line from the nape of my neck down to the small of my back, sending shivers down my spine. I felt his dick harden against my cunt, and I began to undo his belt. He pulled off his shirt, and I pressed my chest against his and began kissing him some more.

I was so hot my leg was starting to vibrate. Geto suddenly pulled away, “I think that’s your phone.”

“Oh.” Oh.

As I was about to read my text, he said, “Listen. I really want to make it up to you. Do you want to have dinner tonight?”

I smiled, “Yeah, I’d like that.” I bent down to reach for my shirt when he suddenly said,

“Can I see them?”

I got up slowly and turned to face him. I moved closer, and he unhooked my bra. I let it fall onto the floor, and he stared at them as he placed both hands on each of them. Then he looked up at me and cupped my face. We began kissing again. Only, this time, we did it much slower. But both our phones buzzed, so it was time to go.

We helped each other dress and went on with our duties. But I couldn’t concentrate. I needed more. I wanted his penis inside my vagina. It was screaming for it, involuntarily contracting throughout the day. I was even tempted to sneak a masturbation session in a bathroom stall. But I controlled myself. I told myself that it would be nothing compared to the real thing. It was the only thing that got me through the day.

When I finally finished my shift, I went home, took a shower, and got dressed. He picked me up at 8 and took me to a restaurant. It was really fancy, too. We sat in an where the seats formed a semi-circle with the open side facing out into the rest of the restaurant. The entire thing was padded with soft material. We sat almost beside each other.

The first thing we ordered was wine. Lots of it. We started talking about anything and everything. Then the subject moved to his divorce.

“My wife is very dominating and controlling,” he was explaining. “She knows what she wants, but she doesn’t care about the consequences.”

“Well, that’s better than being shy and quiet, isn’t it?” I laughed then looked down.

“No,” he put a finger on my chin and made me face him, “I get to learn new things about you. Especially after today.”

“Well,” I slid a little closer to him, “maybe after dinner you’ll get to discover more.” I rubbed my leg up and down his.

“Why wait?” he leaned in closer and began kissing me, sliding his leg up my thigh. I was a little startled when I felt a tug on my panties. I lifted myself up a little so he could pull them off easily. Thank god the table cloths were long. With my underwear on the ground, he began to squeeze my cunt and I gave out a slight moan. Then with his other hand, he rubbed my back in such a way that my bra became undone once again. I moved in closer and put a hand on his crotch, gently squeezing his dick, which started getting harder. Soon his finger was in, and I moaned even louder.

But I was aware that we were in a public place.

I pulled away and said, “Wait five minutes, then follow.” I pushed my underwear under the table cloth and got up. With a spring in my step I went to the unisex bathroom and didn’t lock it.

Five minutes seemed like forever when Geto finally came in. He locked the door behind him. I pulled off his blazer. He put his hands on my butt and pulled me in. We kissed and I pulled of his tie. He unzipped my dress and, as it fell to the floor, my bra dangled on my arms. As I unbuttoned his shirt, he took of his belt. I pulled it off and he unzipped his fly only to reveal a pair of boxers. Out of frustration, I pushed him to the wall, pulled down his boxers enough to expose his penis and then pushed it in. When its tip hit my cervix I let out a loud moan.

With his hands back on my butt he began pushing me in and in and in. With my arms snaked around his neck I sucked on his tongue as hard as I could, almost biting it a couple of times. He pulled away and kissed my neck, and I was caught off-guard. I almost yelled.

He then pushed me backwards, his penis falling out. I threw myself at him and kissed him again. He pulled down the toilet seat cover and sat down. I sat on top of him and couldn’t stop sighing. I pumped and bent backwards so he could kiss my breasts. Then he began to suck my nipples and I sucked on his neck.

He reached for my butt again and began to pull me in so hard his penis hammered onto my cervix, and I couldn’t help it. I could feel my insides contracting as hard as they could, and he began to moan as well. I was sure he was coming, and that I was, too. My patience served me well. This was a million times better than masturbating.

Then his pulling me in slowed down, and our bodies were pressed against each other the whole time. I lay my head on his shoulder, and he lay his on mine. We were both panting.

“Did you like it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I exhaled. “You?”

“You were so wet,” he sighed. Then he pulled away to look into my eyes, “You’re so sexy.”

“You were really hot,” I was still panting. “Discover enough?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” I gave him a peck on the lips, “if we go over to my place, you’ll see a lot more.”

“How about actually having dinner first?” he joked.

I chuckled, “Sure. That, too.”

I very gently got off him and picked up my bra. As I put my dress on, I turned my back to him and said, “Could you help me with this?”

“Sure,” he said, and his hand slipped down and squeezed each butt-cheek once first. Then he zipped it up.

I turned around to help him with his tie. When I was done, I pulled him in closer and asked, “You sure you don’t want another round?”

“I’d love it,” he kissed me. “But I think people are waiting to use the bathroom.”

“But we’re using it,” I put my arms around him again.

He placed his hand on my hips, “Later.”

“Okay,” I kissed him, then let go. “Wait five minutes.”

I unlocked the door and went out and walked back to our table. I tried to very discretely put my underwear back on. But when Geto came back, he slipped his hand under my dress again, and frowned when he felt cotton.

“Why’d you put it back on?” he asked. I shrugged. “Leave it off. I want to touch you,” he began to pull it down again.

“So you’ll touch it, but you won’t use it?” I whispered in his ear.

“Later,” he smiled, then kissed me. “I like just being next to you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

I felt blood rushing to my cheeks. “Well, I like being near you, too.”

I slid closer so I could lay my head on his shoulder. He put an arm around me and pulled me in for a side hug. This was nice; an unexpected turn of events, if you were to base it from how it began. But I was elated. Tired, but not really. I felt confident. I felt like a woman.

[restinslices]

If requests are open how abt teens lin kuei brothers x brat male reader? (Also teen)

I tried my best but I’m actually so bad at writing dom characters, it’s insane. After Bi-Han, my brain shut off. If this was a paid service, you’d need a refund gang. You said teens but I kept them as adults cause although ik minors engage in those activities aswell, I’m an adult soooooo😃

Bi-Han

Some people are probably expecting me to say some wild shit like he's the worst, he doesn't respect boundaries, he's always angry at you, doesn't listen to the safe word, ect ect. 

I don't think that's true 

Am I saying he's all soft and squishy? No. But Bi-Han is not a terrible dom. 

Bi-Han is a perfectionist so any precautions beforehand are definitely gonna be dealt with. What he wants outta this, what you want, limits, ect. 

Onto dealing with a brat though, we already know Bi-Han has a short temper so any bratty behavior would noticeably annoy him 

Smth that would guarantee a punishment would be acting out in front of other Lin Kuei or just in public. It'd be discreet enough that no one would really notice what's going on, but obvious enough that he'd know you're being a brat on purpose 

Questioning certain orders, doing things extremely slow, talking over him, the list could go on. Being bratty around people especially when he's supposed to be “professional” is the quickest way to get a punishment 

I kinda see it as a storm. You know it's coming, you see the signs, but when it happens you still go “dammit. I can't believe it's raining like this”

Does he warn you? Yes. But he only does it once. If you keep going, he mentally writes it all down 

Now Bi-Han doesn't strike me as someone who particularly likes physical touch all the time but punishments don't have to be the typical spanking or harsh fucking. He can be more creative 

I feel like he enjoys punishments that have to do with humiliation. There's so much control in telling you to do something and you just follow it. 

Very much a “ride my boot” type of guy 

The type to make you orgasm over and over again and you don't stop until he's satisfied (obviously keeping your safety and what you can take in mind though)

Takes bratty behavior seriously. He's not making funny little jokes or nothing of the sort. He's putting you in your place 

His punishments would linger. For example he'd tell you to tell him whenever you got horny and why for like, a solid week. This seems small but if you get hormonal easily, you're going up to him a lot and he's shaming you everytime. 

His arms? You're that easy? How could you even survive without him?

The best part of this is you don't have to tell him any of this. Realistically you could ignore this or not tell him every time you're hormonal, and he makes sure to taunt you and remind you of this. 

Humiliation punishments are his go to

Rewards would probably be allowing you a bit of control, like picking any toys you'll use or letting you pick the scene 

A brat would probably fit him well cause he gets to constantly put you in your place, which can be a good way to relax for him 

Kuai Liang

Is also very organized. So organized I think he'd have a secret way to tell you he's actually not in the mood or too busy for you. 

“Go take a walk” means “not right now” 

Bratty behaviors that would bother him the most I think would be doing dumb shit. Like, below average IQ type of things. 

It bothers him because you're not stupid so stop acting stupid. If he says do A, don't do B

But it's fine. You wanna play stupid? He can do that. 

I know I said Bi-Han’s punishments sometimes linger but it really ain't got shit on Kuai Liang’s

If you wanna act like you don't understand basic orders because you wanna act out, then he's gonna act like he doesn't understand anything you want. 

You say “I need you” but he goes to do something else. What's the problem? Clearly you were saying you needed him to do laundry that day. 

You say “touch me” but he touches you everywhere except where you really need him 

You could say something as clear as “please make me cum” and he'd bring you close, but would stop. Why are you upset? You didn't say what day to make you cum. You'll do it later. 

Every single request you have for him turns into something you didn't want and he watches with satisfaction as it slowly drives you insane. 

And doing other bratty behaviors to try and get a response outta him doesn't work because the more bratty you act, the longer he's gonna keep this up. He has the patience to do this too. 

This won't stop until you're on your knees begging like a madman for him to do anything to make you feel good and promising you'll behave from now on. 

And even then he's not satisfied. You have to actually show you're gonna start behaving. He won't actually give you what you want until you behave for at least a week or two straight. No problems. No complaining. No issues. 

You both know you'll act out again but for a good chunk of time, he's enjoying his peace 

Tomas Vrbada

I honestly cannot imagine this man as a dom but for you, I will try 

Tomas is a nice guy and this nice guy shit is how the problem would start 

Taunts would be the way to get to him. So when you say “can't you do better or are you too soft?” it gets to him 

Tomas’ version of punishment would be doing nothing at all. 

He's too soft? Ok. That means he's too soft to touch you, to whisper any dirty things, to tease you, ect. 

Kuai Liang is interacting with you but is doing the exact opposite, Tomas is straight up refusing to do anything. 

You can try to seduce him all you want, you're getting a smart ass “we can't do that. I'm too soft for all of that”

Legit becomes the biggest prude when it comes to doing anything with you. Has no problem touching himself and telling you you can't touch cause he “couldn't handle it”

He takes taunts literal. “I could fuck myself better”, ok then he won't touch you at all for awhile. You got it. “You could do better”, you are completely right. As a matter fact, how about he practice on himself or using a toy and making you watch. Ya know, just to have a third party to inform him if he's doing well. 

Just a real petty bitch in a cute package. 

Probably needs the most breaks when it comes to a brat though cause sometimes he's fr not tryna hear that shit and just needs someone to be there. Which is fine. 

I also imagine he’s possibly new to being a dom so this whole thing is trying shit out. He’s willing to experiment with different kind of punishments, rewards, schedules, all that shit.

When dealing with a brat Bi-Han is strict, Kuai Liang is patience and pettiness wrapped in one and Tomas is just petty 

Looking back there’s no mention of male anatomy and it’s so short. Idk why dom characters make my brain short circuit. We will attempt dom characters at a later date but for now, this is all I got.

[bleedingoptimism]

The Stray

part two

Steve, blushingly furiously, asks Max to take over pancake duty so he can put on a shirt.

And Eddie is both thankful and devastated about it until Steve comes back… and he’s wearing one of Eddie’s shirts and fuck, that makes it so much worse.

He’s always had a thing for guys wearing his clothes and Steve looks so fucking pretty with an old and tattered shirt from his first tour.

Steve catches Eddie staring at him and blushes again, “Sorry, I'm wearing you aren’t I?” 

‘Uhg why would you phrase it like that? That sounds so good. Yes. Please. Wear me.’

Eddie shakes his head and smiles at their guest, “Nah, it’s fine dude, you can do me whene- Wear me! I mean- wear my clot- Stop laughing Max, you little shit! I slept like two hours, okay?”

The three of them share a laugh and then, with all of their plates full, Max starts telling Eddie how she met Steve and the circumstances that got her to invite him over.

Eddie listens and starts thinking, shit, maybe he shouldn’t trust Max to be alone for such long periods of time. He worries about her, always has. But Max has always been independent and so fucking stubborn, toeing the line between proving how responsible she was and disobedience.

He tries to keep an eye on her as much as she lets him, he trusts Max to commute to college alone, to hit the skate park at any hour of the day. She used to get into fights at high school but went to therapy for her anger issues and doesn’t do it anymore.

He trusts her with her boyfriend. Or more accurately, he trusts her boyfriend. It took Max two whole months to tell Eddie she was dating someone and another two months to finally introduce them. And not because she was worried about what Eddie might think of him, oh no. 

She was worried Eddie would think Lucas was too good for her. Too pure. That she would corrupt him. (She was right about Lucas being too pure but Eddie would never think someone could be too good for her. In his opinion, she deserved every bit of good that came her way.)

So really, befriending a street performer sounded like something right up her alley but, taking a homeless man in…

Not that he can blame her, he thinks as he watches Steve shyly biting a pancake and getting progressively redder as Max dives into an action-packed story of him beating up three men to save her.

He knows Max like the back of his hand and knows exactly where she’s going when she talks about how kind, smart, and talented her friend is so he’s not surprised when she asks, “Can he stay with us for a while?”

“No, absolutely not.”

It’s not him who answers, but Steve. He’s shaking his head and looking at Max with big eyes, “I couldn’t possibly. I can’t take advantage of your hospitality any longer, I-”

“Oh, shut up Steve, don’t play hard to get. You have nowhere else to go! Just say yes.”

Steve seems to shrink into himself and looks between Max and Eddie, who gives him a little encouraging smile.

“What are you going to do?” Max presses.

Steve blinks at them sadly and he looks so much like a kicked puppy Eddie wants to make Max back off and hold him, so he stuffs his mouth with pancakes before he says something stupid.

“...I don't know,” Steve answers after a second, and Max huffs as if she is dealing with a child.

“Do you have anyone you could call?” Eddie asks him curious.

Steve’s shoulders tense for a second before he smiles apologetically, “Not anyone I’d want to find out about my… Situation”

“That settles it then!” Max says and claps her hands loudly making Eddie jump, he really did sleep two hours and he wants to go to bed now. Maybe Steve would be up for cuddles? Okay, no. He needs to go to sleep right now before his brain gets any more dumb ideas.

“You can stay in the guest room Wayne and mom use when they come over, no biggie. And don’t worry I’m not gonna let you stay here for free! You’ll chaperone me to school and the skate park and can do the groceries and cook while you look for a proper job! If anything I’ll be taking advantage of you and not the other way around,” Max tells him in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

Steve looks between the both of them once more before sighing and nodding once, a small smile on his lips that makes his eyes shine prettily.

He blinks a couple of times, his eyes looking wetter with every blink and he clears his throat and excuses himself going to the living room where his beat-up duffle bag and guitar case are, pretending to be tying things up while clearly drying his tears.

Eddie’s heart clenches for him but he looks at Max and shakes his head at her, “You know, your mom warned me once about me getting home one day and finding you with a stray puppy but,” he lifts his hand and points in Steve’s general direction, “That’s a grown-ass man.”

Max smirks at him, “Nah,” she says, taking Eddie’s plate and hers and starting to clean up after Steve, “He’s a puppy.”

to be continued!

part 1: 🎸

part 2: you are here!

part 3: 📓

part 4: 💝

coffee?☕🥐💕

[unhetalia]

"Timed Choice"

Word Count: 1,011.

Rating: Teen. Contains mentioned England/Portugal.

Summary: The day America tells you he's going to get over you, you realise you're in love with him.

Notes: Written for @usukweek Day 2 - Time. A quick one, once again not yet edited. This one isn't as clear in it's connection to 'time' as my fairy tale fic, but hopefully still works!

***

“Um, England, I was wondering if I could talk to you after the meeting.”

It’s America. And oddly, he looks… unsure. He’s caught you during a short recess, and you’re ready to refuse—you're meant to be meeting Portugal for dinner, after all, and he's far more important than an ex-colony you barely get along with.

Still, for some reason you agree. "As long as you make it quick,” you add, just so he knows not to waste your time.

“It will be,” he assures.

You sit. He sits across from you.

“First off, this isn’t about politics or work,” America says. You feel relief sweep through your body, though now you’re curious. What on earth does he want to talk about if not business?

“And... look, this is already hard for me, so can I just say everything before you respond?”

You consider telling him to get on with it, but you’re too relieved you’re not dealing with a diplomatic disaster. “Fine,” you mutter. “You’ve got ten minutes. I’m meeting Portugal for dinner.”

He winces. You catch it. He tries to hide it, but it’s clear he doesn’t like Portugal. You’ve always suspected. Maybe this is about that—an attempt to air grievances about your boyfriend. Well, tough luck. You’re not breaking up with someone just because your ex-colony has a weird grudge. You gave up being my little brother in the 1700s, you don’t get to interfere in my romantic life.

“Look,” he starts again. “I know you’re with Portugal. I’m not trying to break you guys up. I just… I need to say this. For me.”

Great, you think. This is about your boyfriend.

“The truth is… it’s time for me to be honest. And it’s time for me to move on.”

He pauses, and you wait. You’re ready to shut him down if he starts badmouthing Portugal, agreement be damned. But for now, you stay quiet.

“I feel like I’ve always been waiting for you,” America says. I was always waiting for you to come back from wherever you were. When I gained independence, I had to wait for you to see me as a country, then as an adult….”

He takes a shaky breath.

“And then, when I realised I was in love with you… you were with India. After you two broke up, you got absolutely smashed and told me you’d never fall in love again. So I waited. I thought maybe, eventually, you’d be ready. But I must’ve missed the window, because a year later you were with Portugal.”

You're gaping. You’d been prepared to argue—yes, you were always leaving back then, but you had reasons. Now, though, your brain is struggling to process anything beyond America is in love with you. Has been in love with you. What? When? How? Why?

But he barrels on, not even letting you catch your breath.

“I realised lately that I’ve still been waiting for you. And that’s not fair. Not to me, not to you. It was selfish of me to hope you’d leave someone who makes you happy. And it was stupid of me to hold out for something that was never going to happen.”

He exhales sharply. “I talked to Maria about it. She watches all those dramas, and she said the first step to moving on is closure. So this is me ripping the bandaid off. Telling you I loved you for way too long… and that I’m finally trying to move on.”

He smiles, bittersweet. “Gonna go on awkward dates. Meet a few psychos on Grindr. Maybe someday I’ll fall for someone who actually loves me back.”

He shrugs. “So, yeah. That’s it. You don’t have to say anything. I just… needed to do this. Sorry if I made things weird. I promise I’ll be totally chill.”

He stands, offers you a quick goodbye and a half-hearted pat on the shoulder. You want to stop him. Ask him to sit back down and go through everything again, slower. Give you a second to breathe.

But you don’t.

You let him leave.

When the door shuts behind him, you sit there in the empty room, stunned. Because in the space of five minutes, America told you he’s been in love with you for years—and also that he’s letting you go. And in doing so, he made you realise something devastating:

He was an option.

And if you’d known that? You would have picked him. Without hesitation.

You’re ten years into a relationship, and somehow it took one conversation to destroy it. To make you want something that’s already gone.

What now?

You suppose… this time, it’s your turn to wait.

[ghost-proofbaby]

modern!steve harrington + mine cause i just KNOW he’d love that song and daydream about a future with his girl listening to it 😭💜

mine (steve's version)

warnings: hurt/comfort, my fingers slipped and put angst

wc: 2.1k+

an: okay i completely goofed here and made this far angstier than you wanted, and did not realize until AFTER it was done. 😭 i'm gonna apply the same logic as miss swift does with surprise songs - since i technically messed up, if you'd like a redo with more sweetness, let me know and i've got you haha 😭 i also just processed you wanted him to listen to the song and that image broke my brain so basically what i'm saying is this one will definitely get a redo haha sorry nonnie <3

It had all started over a stupid fight. A fight that he didn’t even recall how it had started. That’s how stupid it had been. 

Steve had been tired, coming home from a long shift at the diner. It had been a shit show for the entirety of the twelve hours that Steve had been there, instantly making him regret pulling a double to cover one of his coworkers who called claiming they had a fever, but that he’d definitely seen posting on their stories about being out for drinks very late the night before. But he wasn’t going to tell his boss that — he’d been there. One too many beers on one of his rare free nights with friends, and he too would call out, claiming something along the lines of food poisoning. 

He wasn’t fully lying. That much alcohol probably had poisoned him considering the way he felt like death the next morning.

The coworker wasn’t what had him in a sour mood, though. Nor was it the one elderly couple that had kept trying to have terribly long conversations with him when he knew he had food to run. Nor was it that obnoxiously large group of preteens that seemed to have no self awareness as they’d reeked absolute havoc on the diner for the final hour before closing. No, none of that really phased Steve anymore — he was just tired. He was tired, a bit too easily irritated, and just wanted to sleep. 

His plans for the night had been crawling into bed with you, watching some TV show or movie he wouldn’t pay attention to with his head in your lap as your fingers would scratch soothingly at his scalp. His plans for the night didn’t include this fight. If he could have stopped, God only knows he would have.

“They’re going to shut off the water, Steve,” you stress, on the verge of tears at this point. Steve didn’t know if they were from stress, exasperation with him, or if you were hurting from how flippant he’d been since he walked through the door. Regardless, it didn’t matter; seeing you misty-eyed twisted the knife in his chest all the same, “What the fuck are we going to do if they do that? This isn’t something to talk about tomorrow.”

“They’re not going to turn it off tonight!” he shouts right back at you, throwing his hands into the air in defeat, “Fuck, I- what do you want me to do about it? What can I do about it tonight?” 

You snap your mouth shut at that, lips pressed tightly to avoid any quivering. 

“I just worked twelve fucking hours, I just wanted to come home and relax, I’m not in the mood-“

“You’re never in the mood,” you flatly interrupt him, tone a stark contrast to all the overwhelming emotions prominent on your face. Your voice doesn’t even waver — he knows that whatever you’re about to say, it’s been on your mind a while, “It’s always we’ll talk about this tomorrow, or we’ll figure it out. But we never talk about it. We never figure it out, Steve. We can’t just- You don’t think I’m tired, too?” 

His heart breaks a little. You’re right. You’re standing there, still in your scrubs from your own twelve hour shift, and fuck, you’re right. 

Things hadn’t ever been easy. Back in high school, there had been the issue of Steve’s parents. After graduation, it had been the terrible decisions of what now. When you two had decided to pack up and get the Hell out of town, it had been the stress of finally dealing with all the uncertainty, all while desperately trying to keep afloat amongst stacks of bills and adult responsibilities neither of you had expected to drown in. Things had never been easy, but Steve didn’t care about easy — he just cared that you��d always been there, by his side, on his team. 

Right now, it didn’t feel like you and him versus the world. For the first time, it feels like there’s only you two in the boxing ring. 

“This isn’t a competition, we’re… we’re supposed to be on the same side.” 

There it was — your voice cracks, and the moment the first tear falls from your eyes, you’re quick to reach up and swipe it away, pretending it never happened. Pretending that one tear wasn’t ripping Steve apart from the inside out.

“It’s not a competition! But Jesus Christ, I feel like I’m suffocating-“

“I’m suffocating you?” the tears are falling more freely, and you make no move to erase them. 

That’s not what he meant. At all. He’s only making it all worse. So, so much worse.

“I-“ he starts, but he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to make this better. 

He doesn’t know how to fix this.

In an instant, his hands go from threading and angrily tugging at his hair to flaring at his side as he suddenly walks sharply down the hallway. He’s making a beeline for your shared bedroom, doing the only thing he can think of to fix this for you. For tonight, at least.

You’re quick to follow, only two steps behind him, “Where are you going?”

“I’m-“ he pauses, yanking a random drawer open to the dresser, finding himself staring at a pile of your clothes rather than his own. He huffs through frustration and his own building tears, “I’m gonna stay at Eds’ tonight. Give you some space.” 

“Give me space?” you laugh back in disbelief, not daring to take any more steps closer to him, “You’re the one who’s being suffocated-“

“You’re not suffocating me,” he stops all movement, hand still on the knob of his drawer. He turns to you suddenly, a new found confidence, “That’s- That’s not what I meant, okay?” 

He can’t make this right, but he can’t leave you thinking that’s what he meant. You could never suffocate him — and even if you tried, he’d find it to be the most heavenly way to die. But you didn’t know that, not in this moment, and that was what was currently killing him.

You take a deep breath, one step forward, before asking quietly, “What did you mean, then?” 

One last chance. An opportunity to make this right.

“You could never suffocate me,” all the shouting and the frustration has vanished, only softness and hurt left in their places, “Ever. Don’t you ever think for one moment that it’s you. It’s not, okay? I love you. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, you are-“ he chokes up, looking into your glossy eyes. He can still recall the way he felt all those years ago when they’d first laid eyes on him. He’s memorized the way it felt, because every time you look at him, it still manages to feel like the very first time, “You are everything to me. You’re- Fuck, honey, you’re my entire future. When I think about the future, all I think about is you.” 

You take another step forward. Steve’s own tears now track his own face, his heart racing painfully.

“I love you so fucking much, it’s crazy. And I just- I feel like I’m fucking all of this up. You deserve more than this, and I try to give it to you, but I can’t-“

“That doesn’t all fall on you, Steve,” your hands shake as you lift them, finally close enough to touch him. Each palm rests delicately on his chest and you can’t look him in the eyes, “I don’t want you for your money. Never have, never will.” 

He laughs wetly. You’ve more than proven that. When his parents cut him off completely, you hadn’t blinked an eye. 

“I want you because I love you. I’m in love with you, Steve Harrington. Okay? I’m so in love with you, I followed you across the goddamn country.” 

“Eddie and Robin did too, to be fair,” he reminds you, almost jokingly. All the tension from the fight is quickly fading. His hand drops from the drawer. 

“They did, but I guarantee I love you more than them,” you scrunch your nose, almost grimacing before adding, “No offense to them, of course.” 

“Of course,” he echoes, slowly reaching up and holding your hands that had been pressed to his chest. You don’t pull back.

“I’m just- it’s stressful. We’re both stressed. Neither of us were prepared for this,” you look him desperately in his eyes, “I meant what I said, though. This isn’t me versus you — I never want it to be us fighting each other. It’s always us versus the problem, okay?” 

He nods when you wait patiently for his response, “Okay.” 

“And I want you here,” you continue, “I want you here, in our home and in our bed. I want you here, even screaming back and forth with me, as long as you’re here. With me. Go to bed mad at me, I don’t care. Just… don’t walk away.” 

You smile through the residual tears, squeezing his hands that hold yours. 

Steve thinks about all the examples of love he’d ever been shown. His parents, in a castle of ice. The way the fights always ended in separate rooms, sometimes separate houses. His father storming out to spend the night in a hotel rather than having to be around his mother a second longer. He remembers the way that even with an abundance of money, they were never happy. They never loved each other. A marriage of convenience rather than love. Lasting only out of obligation, not dedication. 

He didn’t want that with you. He couldn’t ever imagine what the two of you have being reduced to that.

When he looks at you, all he can see is happiness. All he can feel is that love bursting from his chest. Images of the two of you by Lover’s Lake, the way the waves of the lake had sent shattered and sparkling flares of light across your cheeks as you’d laughed at him as if he was the funniest person in the entire world. All the nights spent over the phone, talking about nothing and everything, desperate to just fall asleep to the sound of each other’s voices. The ridiculous nerves he’d felt on the first date, King Steve shaking at the thought of putting his arm around you because for the first time, he was truly scared of fucking this up. 

You made him a better man. You saw everything inside of him that was broken, that he had spent so long trying to hide, and you’d simply sat down beside him with glue in hand, prepared to spend as much time as he needed to piece it all back together. 

Go to bed mad at me, I don’t care. Just… don’t walk away.

“I can’t do that, sweetheart,” he finally sighs. Your face starts to fall, but he’s quick to clarify, “I can’t go to bed mad at you. Ever. And we can fight, us versus the problem like you said, all we want but… I don’t want to go to bed mad. I don’t want… I don’t want that. Whenever my head hits that shitty pillow every night,” you both break to laugh, because God, you both really did need new pillows (and a mattress, if you were being honest), “All I want to know is that you’re mine and I’m yours. Sound fair?” 

You smile, and it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. It makes all the long shifts worth it as you nod slowly, “Sounds fair to me.” 

“Good,” he guides the two of you to the center of the room before he drops your hands from his, sighing and letting his shoulders finally drop, “Then in that case, I’m staying.” 

Even with crying tears on your cheeks, you’re still the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. You’re still the best thing Steve Harrington has ever had the privilege of calling his, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. So if we’re gonna fight — let’s fight, baby.” 

He puts his fists up comically, and you only giggle and grab at them, shaking your head.

“I think we've fought enough for one night,” you mumble, bringing one fist to your mouth, kissing each of his knuckles gently. 

Once you’ve placed your final kiss, he quickly placed the hand beneath your chin, lifting your lips to his. He kisses you in quick succession, and between each one, he repeats the sincerest I’m sorry he can muster. 

He only stops once you’re smiling too wide for him to continue. 

After his lips leave yours one last time, pulling back slowly as he savors it and you, he finally sighs, “I am curious, though — what the Hell are we going to do if they do shut off the water?” 

You shrug, “Like you said, we can talk about it tomorrow.” 

“Or we can use Eddie and Robin’s shower.” 

“Or we can use Eddie and Robin’s shower.” 

As it turns out, Steve Harrington was wrong — when it comes to you, he can always fix things. 

"brace myself for the goodbye, 'cause it's all i've ever known. then you took me by surprise, you said 'i'll never leave you alone'."

[steddiexbyler]

The mixed school-Chapter 4

Ace-Human

Ugh. What the hell happened? 

 Then I remembered. I had walked into my new dorm room, there was a Giant, and I passed out. I took a moment to process that, and then my brain finally caught up. 

 I bolted into an upright position, and I realized I was on a bed. Not my bed, but the Giant’s bed. I’m not gonna lie, it  was kind of comfy, but where was the Giant? I looked around frantically, and spotted him-asleep-his large form resting against the bed. My palms became sweaty as I studied him, making sure he doesn’t wake up. 

 Stupid anxiety. 

Now you may think, “Oh Ace, you don’t have anxiety, you’re too cocky for that. We can see your thoughts, most of them are snappy and sarcastic.” To that, I say shut the hell up, you’re just my internal narrator that wants to put me down. 

 Blah blah blah blah. . . I can’t hear you~

I hadn’t noticed that I had zoned out, probably for a while, because a groggy voice suddenly snapped me out of my internal rampage. 

 “Mate…You passed out for a good…” The Giant glanced at his watch. British accent. “6 hours. Looks like I did too.” He chuckled, but it was interrupted by a large yawn. My eyes flickered to his gaping mouth, shiny fangs decorating his upper row of teeth. 

 My heart most likely skipped a beat, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it for long because he spoke again. “My name’s Felix. What's yours?” I didn’t respond in that moment, because I was getting a really weird sense of deja vu, for some reason. I ran my eyes over his appearance again, and that's when it hit me. Tuxedo mask. I let out a hysterical laugh, to which he cocked an eyebrow. I’m not kidding, he really looked like that anime character from that show…What was it? Sailor something or other. I think Maragret watches it. 

 My mouth was dry, and my tongue felt like sandpaper, but I forced the words out of my mouth anyways. “Ace.”

 I met his gaze, and noticed that he had two different colored eyes. One green, one blue. 

 “You all right?” Felix inquired. “Yep! Just peachy.” I smirked, my facial features moving with ease from practiced repetition over the years. He just nodded, but I could tell from his expression that he didn’t believe me.   “Alright…But you are fidgeting a lot, you know that?” My head snapped down to my hands, which were drumming against my thigh. Of course it was. I moved my hands to under my legs, so that I was sitting on them now. “No I’m not.” 

 He just sighed and ran his hand over his face. “Anyways…Our other roommate arrived while you were passed out, he’s on the windowsill.” 

 I turned my head around to see the Borrower curled up into a little ball on a folded up piece of tissue, sleeping. His little face was scrunched up like he was deep in thought, and was most definitely tense. He was most likely a light sleeper. I could tell. His curly brown hair was sticking out everywhere, like a bird's nest. 

 I watched as Felix gently laid a finger on him, shushing him quietly. He looked so incredibly tiny under his touch, and guilt started to churn in my stomach. I had it easier. In comparison to me and Felix, I’d probably reach around his knee area, which was still scary, of course, but still. If I were to pick up the Borrower, he’d probably fit snugly in the palm of my hand, and you can just imagine what that looks like to Felix.

 “He told me his name is Leo.” Felix murmured, his tone gentle and protective, almost like a father. 

 Something in my brain just snapped. This Giant didn’t mean any harm. This one. I’d be comfortable around him, but will focus on other Giants because you have no idea what their intentions are, I told myself. 

  A wave of vulnerability sent chills down my spine as he watched me again. Even though I told myself I’d trust him,  I just couldn’t stop focusing on those eyes. 

 The quiet moment was ruined when my stomach growled loudly. My cheeks flushed bright pink when Felix snorted. I crossed my arms over my chest, huffing. “Not my fault my dinner earlier tasted like cardboard.” 

 Felix just smiled, amusement visible in his eyes. 

I really hoped this friendship would be worth protecting. I really hoped I could trust Felix, even if he was a Giant.

[spicywhenspeaking]

If I’m There : Chapter Two

Part One

exploring the budding relationship between Noah and my OFC Natalie - ah young love - but of course to be young and in love is usually to be kinda stupid. This story will soon take us 10 years into the future and our two love birds with meet again but secrets have been kept and feelings buried away..will true love prevail?? (yeah probably but it’s gonna hurt like Hell first)

Triggers : language , violence

tags: fluff 🫶🏻 , a little angst

smut eventually I PROMISE! let them cook, so minors dni pls&thx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Noah. stop seriously please you’re only going to make it worse” I say as I race after him down the hall, his long legs making it difficult to keep up “please stop” I plead “you think doing anything to him will make it better?”

I continue pulling his arm back to keep him from rushing towards the courtyard where my brother is no doubt sitting at his usual table for lunch.

He turns around to face me with a seething expression “Natalie. He hit you.” Noah’s hand light grazes my blackened eye. “He deserves to pay for that”

“And you think what? By kicking his ass? Or yelling to the whole school that he hit me is going to help with anything? You think it would make my life any easier?” The frustration in my voice impossible to miss.

“You don’t understand Noah, I’m just trying to make it through this last year and a half of school and escape from my shitstorm family. It would be a lot easier if my already volatile brother wasn’t provoked further” I pull his arm back further towards me “so please, just leave it alone”

Noah let’s loose an annoyed breath “fine” he grumbles.

“But If he touches you again-“

“He won’t” I interrupt “he won’t do it again” hopefully

“If he does, call me. Please. Text me. Send a fucking carrier pidgeon i dont care, just tell me.“ he reaches out for my phone and puts his number in and texting himself.

Nick coughs behind us and I turn back to him “why did you text Noah?” I question him. “I at least assume that’s why he came barreling into class with that crazed look on his face.”

Nick just looks between Noah and I and sighs deeply “you two are so dumb. I texted Noah because he talks about you all the time, figured you probably felt the same way considering I saw you doodling a figure that looked strikingly similar to him” Nick continues “I figured he’d give a shit if the girl he’s all hung up on showed up to school with a shiner”

ha sounds like Nick just said Noah likes me…wait what

“Wait what?” I turn to look at Noah and he’s blushing red from the neck up. “You talk about me all the time?”

“You drew me?”

We both speak at the same time, laughing at the ridiculousness of it.

I let him go first “you drew me? why didn’t you show me?”

I let out a nervous laugh “I mean I didn’t want to look like a weirdo drawing pictures of some guy I like” the last part came out in a rush, my brain is apparently moving faster than my mouth can filter. Oh my god shut up.

“I mean-“ I stumble

“I like you too,” he confesses in a small voice. “Sitting next to you and bothering you in study hall is one of the highlights of my day”

“You’re never bothering me” I tell him quietly.

“Ugh okay I’m leaving now” Nick says from behind us.

We continue walking but now away from the courtyard trying to slip into casual conversation. “So now that I’m not planning on kicking your brother's ass, did you maybe want to eat lunch together?” He pushes the hair that fell into his face back behind his ear as he asks me.

“Yeah, that would be great. I totally forgot to bring my lunch with everything going on at home but I would enjoy sitting with you” I smile up at him softly.

“Hell no, Natty. What do you want? My treat” he said while reaching over and wrapping his arm around my shoulder pulling me closer.

We walked off campus to the taco truck a block away from school and Noah bought us lunch while we talked more. Before we went back to school he stopped me and moved his hand to cup my bruised cheek.

“Can I take you out for real?” He asks sweetly “like a real date, not just tacos at lunch time. Friday night?”

Oh my god, he’s asking you out. Noah is asking you out. He just bought you lunch. He talked to you about art and music and wants to take you out on a date. Okay you've been quiet for too long. Say something.

“Yes! That sounds great” I manage to choke out through the nerves clogging my throat.

“Awesome” Noah smiles and takes my hand as we walk back to campus.

Friday cannot come fast enough. I need to get through two more days and one massive AP biology exam so I am in an intense study session when my phone buzzes next to me.

Noah : you’re not responding to my snaps and they’re so funny. Put the notes down for 5 seconds to laugh. I promise it’s worth it. 8:46

Natalie: haha okay! Fine. 8:46

Natalie: It better be worth it, this test is like a huge part of my final grade. 8:46

I open the snap and it’s a series of videos of Noah fake falling next to wet floor sign and another of him placing a bible in the science fiction section of a Barnes and Noble. what a beautiful dork

Natalie: Those are precious moments I could have used to study, now lost forever. 8:58

Noah: Natty, you wound me deeply. Say something nice before I completely lose all self confidence. 9:01

Natalie: You have the voice of an angel, now pls let me study. 9:03

Noah: aw :) you like me huh? 9:03

Natalie: less and less now XD 9:04

Noah: You've wounded me again. I may never recover <\3. 9:04

Natalie: I will try to make it up to you later but for now biology calls my name and I need to finish studying this unit. Goooodnight noahhhh :) 9:06

Noah: I will hold you to that Natty. GN :) 9:07

I fall asleep on my textbook and wake up again at around midnight to crawl into my bed.

The next day passes quickly and it’s finally Friday ! I feel great about my test so the day is going great, and it’s only going to get better because tonight Noah is taking me out on our first official date. He doesn’t want to count tacos during lunch period as our first date, which I get, but that’s not what I’ll tell our kids….okay Nat let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

I get home after school and rush to my room to get ready. I take a boiling hot shower to wash away the oncoming nerves. Will he want to have sex? No. right? That's crazy..no way. Right.? It our first date, he couldn’t possibly expect that…but I mean he’s had girlfriends before. Maybe I’m in over my head…I’m an inexperienced, never had a boyfriend virgin loser….No. Noah is a nice guy, he likes me. Kyle’s words are just getting to me. This is going to be a great date and Noah is a great guy.

I decided to wear my dark green wrap dress, black tights and ballet flats. I don't normally wear makeup but I decided to put on a little mascara and blush and I use concealer to cover up the fading bruise on my eye. I brush out my hair and pin it half up with a clip.

Noah texts me that he's outside at around 6:00. He didn't tell me what he had planned but I'm excited either way.

As I approach the car he hops out of the driver side seat and greets me with a happy smile and moves to open the door for me. “Hi” he greets me with a warmly “you look beautiful” he pulls me into a gentle hug.

Wrapping my hands around him to return the hug I smile at him and climb into the passenger seat.

“So, what do you have planned for this evening?” I ask curiously.

“A little this, a little that…don’t worry Natty, I have the perfect evening planned” he winks at me and I can’t help the blush that floods my face.

Fifteen minutes later the car pulls into a small parking lot outside of a brick building with a sign reading “Holts Roastery and Records” a record store? That tracks.

“I’ve seen you wear some pretty cool band shirts so I was thinking finding some new records would be fun, plus the coffee here is pretty good” Noah comments as he throws his arm around me walking from the car to the front door.

We walk inside and order. I get a hot chai latte and Noah orders a mocha. We get our drinks and walk around the records and music, I see a lot that I recognize, l mostly listen to classic rock or oldies like Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones or Otis Redding. Noah is pulling out bands I’ve never heard before like Megadeath, Slayer, he hands me a Bring Me The Horizon CD and says “just listen to this, if you can give me anything at all, listen to this”

I laugh softly and take a sip of my tea taking the cd “okay, I’ll listen to it, cross my heart”

We continue browsing the shelves and talking before heading to the checkout counter where Noah plucks the cd from my hands to pay for it “my treat Natty, I want to have all the credit for introducing you to the best music you’ve ever heard” he finishes paying and we toss our drinks heading back out to the car.

“Nights not over yet, don’t worry” he laughs “one more stop and then the best burger of your life”

Noah drives us to the park near the lake, we park and walk hand in hand and he leads me to a bench. We sit and take in the warm evening sun as it’s on its path to disappear.

“I come here a lot to write, it’s one of my favorite spots” Noah comments softly “I was hoping to bring you here sometime”

“It’s a lovey spot, thank you for bringing me” I return in a gentle voice. The sun is dipping more into the horizon and the sky is filled with a beautiful orange glow.

“It’s so beautiful” I whisper, staring ahead at the glistening lake.

“Yeah, it is” Noah agrees but his gaze remains fixed on me as his hand comes up to brush the hair off my neck.

I turn to face him and before the next word leaves my mouth his lips are against mine in a kiss that quiets all thoughts.

His lips are so soft and warm against mine, he moves his hand to cradle the back of my neck as the kiss deepens slightly, my hand moves to hold onto the front of his shirt not wanting this kiss to ever end but knowing we will eventually need to breathe again.

Pulling away to rest his forehead against mine as we both attempt to catch our breath Noah speaks first “I’ve been wanting to do that since- well- for a while”

I move to fix his hair behind his ear “well I’m glad you did” I giggle and move to kiss him quickly again “now I remember you mentioning food? I’m starving”

He laughs and kisses me one, two, three - six more times and then we’re back into the car and headed to a nearby diner. We both order cheese burgers and milkshakes. He tells me more about his home life and I talk to him about my dad, him leaving, his anger but also his love for music, how I’m mad at him but I also miss him.

After we eat Noah takes me back home and after saying goodbye in his car for about fifteen minutes I reluctantly head inside to get ready for bed.

As I’m getting ready to lay down I hear a knock on my bedroom door.

Padding from my bed I open it to see my brother Kyle standing, arms crossed “so what? Now you’re dating him?” He spits out.

“Not that it's any of your business, but yes.” No sense in lying.

“You’re an idiot. He’s only doing this to piss me off” his bitter laugh cuts into his last words.

“Well then I guess it’s working. Listen Kyle, I don’t care how you feel about it, or if you think he’s playing some game. I really don’t care” I go to shut my door but he pushes past to invade my space.

“So you’ll let him whore you out just to get back at me?”

Oh fuck you, I think to myself.

“What I do, and who I choose to spend my time with is none of your business and I’m not whoring myself out you dickhead. It’s a date. It’s what young people do. You would know if you acted somewhat decently to people.”

I gesture towards my door “now please, get out of my room I am trying to study”

“You’re not going out with him” he seethes

“Yes. I. Am” I stand my ground “now get out!”

“No” he moves to grab my shoulder but I move back and using all my strength push him out of my door, shut it and twist the lock.

He’s banging on the door and screaming.

“Just go to sleep Kyle!” I scream at him “Fuck off and go to sleep, you’re acting crazy!”

First there’s silence and then he’s throwing his whole body weight into the door and bringing it off the hinges.

“KYLE!” I scream before he’s throwing me to the ground with his hands wrapped around my neck.

————-to be continued here!

muahahaha I looove cliffhangers 🫶🏻

Also I do not like the formatting on tumblr lmaoo I am still figuring out how to make things look cohesive and sectioned in a functional way…let me know if you think there’s a better way to format and I will try!

Thanks again for reading!!! I looooovvveee youuuuu

next part is hurt/comfort my FAVE

taglist: @notingridslurkaccount @lma1986

[bunnymermaidwrites]

Incorrect quotes tag!!!

Thank you, thank you, @anyablackwood ! I always wanted to do this!!!

Adél : Ok so, apparently the "bad vibes" I've been feeling are actually severe psychological distress.

-

Pre story:

*Bendegúz sneezes*

Endre : Bendegúz , are you sick? Here, let me wrap you in a blanket and hand-feed you some warm soup while singing you a lullaby!

*Ákos sneezes*

Endre : Oh my god. Shut the hell up.

-.

Adél : What are you planning to do?

Bendegúz : Hey, now. "Planning"?! Do you KNOW who you're talking to?!

-

Ákos: Why do people always say "mess around and find out" like it's a bad thing? I love finding out! It's one of my favorite things!

-

Adél : I am very small and I have no money, so you can imagine the kind of stress that I'm under

(Bendegúz: Adél, you're literally a princess)

-

Adél : Does anyone know how to relax? Asking for a friend.

-

Bendegúz : Let me copy your homework.

Adél : I was gonna copy yours.

Bendegúz : Well, shit.

Adél : Guess I'm not doing it.

-

Bendegúz : *About to do something incredibly stupid*

Adél : I know I can't stop you, but I won't let you go by yourself.

-

Bendegúz : *dangling from a rope over a pit of fire* Remember when I said I’d tell you when we’re in too deep?

Adél : Yes?

Bendegúz : We’re in too deep.

-

Ákos : Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Bendegúz : Bet you I can!

Adél : *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

-

Ákos : I will send my army to attack!

Ákos : *releases a dumpster of raccoons*

-

Endre , looking at their reflection: Now, that's rubbish. Who's that supposed to be?

Odette : Well, that's you.

Endre : Me?! Is that what I look like?

Odette : You don't know?

Endre : Busy day.

-

Bendegúz : What state do you live in?

Adél : Constant anxiety.

Odette : Denial.

Endre : Perfection.

Ákos : NEW YORK!

-

Adél : How are you so calm?!

Endre : I’ve passed beyond “stressed”, beyond “hysteria”, into the gray misty indifference of complete shutdown of all but emergency services in my brain.

-

Adél , singing: I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need—

Bendegúz : A family.

Endre : A better love life.

Odette : Mental stability.

Ákos : *clueless* Bagels?

-

Endre : It is 6:09 .

Endre : I am wondering why I’m still alive.

Endre : Send Wendy’s.

Ákos : The whole restaurant?!

-

Endre : I wish I was a cat, but not in a furry kinda way, more like a “I can sleep all day and hit people with no consequences” kinda way.

Tagging: @illarian-rambling and @thecomfywriter if you want (no pressure ❤️)