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almostempty · 6 months ago

Text

Look at this photograph

(joel miller x f!reader)

The second installment of Never made it as a wise man

WC: 3.5k | Part 1 | Part 3| Other fics | Rating: 18+

Summary: you open Joel’s dick pic and (after examination) decide to give him a call

Note: it’s me ya boi (gn), back with more divorceddadrockdilf!joel bc you guys get me. i know y’all want them to fuck, and I want them to fuck too. unfortunately, this flowed through me first, and I am merely a vessel for the spirit of buttrock joel.

so, until they get their freak nasty on, please enjoy this as a chapter 1.5, with gratuitous dick pic art critique and crankin’ it over the phone <3 don’t worry, he’s still a lil pathetic. mistakes and bad jokes are all on me.

Tags: au no outbreak modern joel, divorced dad rock dilf joel x f!reader, picks up right where ch.1 ended, dick pic descriptions, alternating pov, dirty talk, phone sex, masturbation, it’s all just phone sex, but edge yourself through it with fond memories of ch. 1, still crackish, but i am still dead serious about it being hot so idc

inspo playlist i found on spotify: Divorced Dad Rock: BANGERZ

thanks: to @hellishjoel for hosting the #hotdilfsummerchallenge and to everyone who enjoyed part 1

@gothcsz i promise fuckboy!joel is cookin, he’s just in the crockpot rn. he’s gotta tenderize like a white lady’s pinterest recipe for pulled pork.

* i tried to tag everyone who wanted more, but if you don’t wanna be here i’ll remove it <3 or if i missed you and you want to be tagged next time pls let me know

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” you blurt out after opening the message from Joel. The vulgar dick pic sends a prickly worm of arousal slithering down your spine.

Without thinking, you tilt the phone down toward your chest, and your eyes shoot up like you’ve got to make sure nobody saw your naughty message. Warmth blooms on your cheeks as the flash of embarrassment starts to dissolve. You don’t need to hide.

You’re in your bed, in your apartment, wearing Joel’s grubby Creed t-shirt. The one that smells like Degree Sport and a Jiffy Lube break room. You're free to look at all the dick pics your heart desires. And that’s what you’re going to do.

The wiggle of bashful energy turns into a squirm as you shift your hips, seeking a comfy position in bed. The t-shirt bunches up under your back and you wonder if the unique Joel scent of it will linger on your pillow beneath your shoulders. You knew pilfering the shirt on the way out the door was a good move, and now you get to enjoy your trophy. It makes it feel like the broad-as-a-barn-door DILF himself was still close enough to touch you.

It gives you another bright shudder when you think about the noises he made when he came in your hand earlier. The disappointed grunts of “fuck, wait” and how he tried to choke down the throaty groan that came from deep in his chest. Fuck. The perverted gremlins that have a permanent residence in your mind have been roused by the digital dick, and now they chitter and squawk at you. More! More! More!

You reopen the message, and seeing it gives you another rush. You save the picture to your phone storage. For your personal collection. Mine now, big boy. Your chin starts to dip towards your chest. It’s like you’re giving your phone the Kubrick stare with the ghost of a smirk. You’re free to take your time with this one. And you can be as much of a creep as you want. That makes you sigh softly and sink deeper against your pillows.

Before this afternoon, it was titillating when Joel would pop up in your mind's eye with his slutty slo-mo scenes. The one where he was bent over your car's engine like Megan Fox in that Transformers movie. Or, that damn happy trail tease with the t-shirt-sweat-rag move. You had just enough imagery to let your dirty thoughts take the wheel.

And, god, you had a good production team in your mind for projects starring Joel. Adding this will give the team a whole lot more to work with. You can hear them crashing around your conscious like the Animaniacs on the Warner Brothers lot. Horny chaos goblin mode activated.

Now that you have time to study the image, from the luxury of your microfiber sheets and lamplit bedroom, you let it get pervy. It’s your first real, lingering look–earlier today, you were so busy trying to rile him up in his jeans that you didn’t even pull it out.

It had somehow been even more delicious that way. Having him all needy and unable to stop himself from making a mess in your hand. And not just the noises, but the erratic thrusts into your tight fist? The heat of his pulsing length as he forgot himself? Yeah, you’re gonna remember that one.

But now? Now you need the visual. If the devil is in the details, you have a new neighbor with horns and a tail.

You zoom in on everything. Holding your phone closer to your face than necessary, like how do we enhance this bitch?

And holy shit.

Drool pools in your mouth and between your legs. You have the knee-jerk reaction to lick your phone.

You can hear Joel’s voice from earlier today. All husky and grumbly, arguing that you really were a slut for him, like, “You are, aren’t you, though? You came all this way in this excuse for a shirt just to see me?” He might be touch-starved enough to cream his jeans, but you just know he’s got a nasty mouth in bed, and you’ve got to find out firsthand. Soon. There’s no reason not to, right?

You pause when a flicker of reasoning tickles the back of your neck.

You’re back to looking in your review mirror in Joel’s driveway. The last-ditch attempt at checking your ego before you marched to his front door like a Halloween hoe bag version of Betty Crocker.

You had told yourself you weren’t trying to fuck your (almost) friend’s (sort of) dad. Told yourself there was nothing to pursue, and even if there was, you wouldn’t bite.

You like Ellie. She’s been (mostly) welcoming to you. You told yourself not to fuck anything up with the only person that’s got a single one of your jokes at your new job.

You were just bringing some food as a friendly gesture. The fresh visuals to add to your spank bank reel were supposed to be a harmless bonus. Okay, maybe it was a stretch to say you had rolled up to Joel’s driveway with pure intentions.

And it was an even bigger stretch–when he added that third finger while he finger fucked you on the kitchen counter—wait, no. It was an even bigger stretch when you had told yourself you probably weren’t his type anyway.

Like, that guy? With the fridge full of Coors Banquet? With those ugly Oakley sunglasses that you know are featured in his only picture on social media that isn’t a car or truck? The guy with all the words to Buckcherry’s “Crazy Bitch” and Puddle of Mudd’s “She Hates Me” memorized?

Nah, deep down, you knew. You knew there was no way that middle-aged bachelor would turn down any action. But you hadn’t planned on actually making a move, especially not a handjob in the middle of the kitchen.

That’s on Joel for leaving the door open while trying to rub one out to some bimbo on Brazzers. And for barking at you in that sexy, angry voice. And for teasing you with the bulge in his oil-stained jeans. What were you supposed to do?

Something must be really rotting in the logic department of your brain.

Hey! The gremlin voice in your head is still shouting at you. Hey!! Why are we not tasting that dick yet?!! You’re back from your daydream and the excuses you crafted for your behavior, back to laying in your bed with Joel’s dick pic emitting a bright glow in your hand.

You still do want to lick the screen.

Fortunately for your immune system, you control your tongue. The critical part of you expels a sigh when you zoom out and take in the picture.

It’s undoubtedly a nice cock, but the image as a whole? Yikes.

Why do men have to be so fucking thick? And blunt? Wait, now you’re just describing the slightly blurry boner lighting up your face. Thick as in dense. How can men be so dense?

No imagination or creativity. No patience.

You shake your head slightly, scoffing. No wonder you caught him hunched over his cracked phone screen. It was probably the first video loaded on the only site he had saved.

No sweet, sweet, buildup, setting the mood, or getting cozy. Just whippin’ it out midday or snapping a photo in some ratty sweats.

Like you’ve never been that touch-starved or down bad?

You ignore that voice to continue your art critique.

The photo you sent is… sexy.

Sultry. A flirty tease. It says, “Look who has your shirt? Am I wearing it in bed? Do you think I'm wearing anything else?”

It’s all implied in the look in your eye and the picture's composition. The tease of the soft curves on the underside of your breasts, asking if he remembers what they felt like. Your hand bunching up the shirt, asking if he remembers the slide of that fist around his cock. If he remembers those fingers, the ones you sucked his sticky spend off of.

Such delicately crafted imagery. Personalized erotic fine art.

But men are so crude about it. He sees your tasteful, sexy pic, and immediately, the best his caveman brain can come up with is: send her ur dick! STAT!! Hard cock! Now!!

And, of course, he did. Taken in the dark with the flash on, making ominous shadows in the background. His old charcoal gray sweats are pulled down just enough to expose everything he’s offering.

The color is slightly blown out from the flash, and it’s a touch blurry where his phone didn’t autofocus quickly enough. His hand looks like it’s straight up, just choking the base of his cock. It’s jarring.

But that’s really the “man” of it all, right? Nothing subtle or demure about a rock-hard erection jutting towards you, reaching like it could get to you on its own if it just could get a little bit harder. No, there’s nothing coy about the raw thoughts of a man with no blood left in his brain who’s just aching to get inside you, either.

And fuck if that doesn’t start to override your critical analysis.

The glare from the flash reflects in the beads of precome rolling down his rosy tip. Mouth wateringly delicious. Your blood rushes to your pussy, filling your tender sex with heat and a deep, needy itch. It makes you dopey and silly. Not cock drunk, but like, dick pic buzzed.

You know it felt sizeable in your hand earlier, but you aren’t an expert at estimating size from a through-the-pants handjob. You try to recreate your own grip around nothing to estimate the size.

You giggle to yourself when you realize you're just a woman in her bed staring at her hand, jerking an invisible cock. The horny goblins aren’t amused, though. They’re sick of the daydreaming and distractions. They’re picking fights with the rest of your mind. Throwing rocks and sticks, shrieking and hissing.

The part of your brain that was griping about how men used to write love letters and respect the art of romance is getting quieter and further from your faculty for caring. You can hear its muffled shouts, and you assure that voice that you won’t give it all up this easily. Then, you completely tune it out.

The last brain cell with a complaint has you rolling your eyes. You have to be ovulating or something because it’s wholly debased the way this guy is doing it for you.

He’s just shameless with it.

You sent him tasteful underboob, and he gives you jumpscare dick-in-the-dark! How is this supposed to escalate? He gave it all up immediately! You send another picture, and he sends you his money shot? What’s he gonna do to give you more? Send you an asshole shot? That one makes you snort. You bet he would do it, too, if you asked.

Oh, that gives you a better idea. He’s not getting another picture from you at all. You tap on his name and tap the call icon. Of course, this horny motherfucker answers immediately. You aren’t sure it even rang before you’re connected to his porny bedroom voice.

“What are you wearing, dollface?”

“I already showed you. Call me dollface again, and I’m hanging up.”

You can hear his breathing like he’s got the mic on his phone in his mouth. That would typically drive you fucking nuts, but right now, you wanna hear his heavy breath against your ear and feel it hot against your skin.

“All right,” he speaks slowly, distracted. You know why. “You wanna be my slut, instead?”

Fuck. That has you throbbing between your legs, but he doesn’t get to know that yet.

“I already told you,” you keep your voice low and soft, “you don’t get to call me a slut for you, not with your behavior.” You strain, trying to hear any other noises, but his mic is probably clogged with dust from his shop or lint from the pocket of his sweats. You can just hear his fucking breathing.

“What behavior, baby?” he rasps.

“You always jump straight to sending a picture of your cock?”

You hear the soft snort through the phone. Followed by a deeper, throatier noise. A noise that makes you go cross-eyed and has you running a hand down to your naked lower half to tease yourself.

“You always steal a man’s clothes after you come on his fingers?”

You don’t really care what he asked. His voice makes your tongue go numb. Your mind goes blank. You start slowly, coating your own fingers in your slick arousal and drawing circles with a light touch.

You hum a noncommittal response into the phone.

“You look good in my shirt, baby, fuck,” he trails off breathlessly. The idea of you in his clothes gets him too close.

You don’t answer, and he’s too far gone to wait and tease.

He’s been wound up since you took off this afternoon, and it doesn’t feel like a coincidence that you sent him that pic when he had just gotten into bed.

It had taken ages to get his brother out of the shop this afternoon, and then Joel completely fucked up when he mentioned you and the lasagna. He had to begrudgingly host Tommy for dinner when he couldn’t come up with a better excuse than saying, “I’m gonna need you to fuck off so I can deal with the aching balls I’ve got from your surprise visit scaring away the woman I had my fingers knuckle deep inside.”

But when he was finally alone, it was like fate; your text came through right after he flopped onto his bed. His semi-stiff cock had sprung to full mast at the sight of you. The shirt he knew he didn’t fuckin’ lose, your soft curves, and the expression on your face. Like a vixen. Your PG-13 tease would do more for him than any X-rated video.

Knowing you were thinking about him and that you wanted him to know? That had him throbbing. He already knew from the desire in your eyes earlier today that you wanted more.

He could swear his fingers still hold the lingering flavor of your wet cunt. The visceral memory of you has him on edge. When he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, he has to pause, holding firmly in place. His body screams and aches for release, but he’s determined to keep it in check. He doesn’t want to blow his load until he gets a response from you.

He fights his urges, trying not to fuck his own fist in a frantic race to come.

But, fuck, it’s difficult when he can imagine the sounds you’d make as you sank onto his cock for the first time. The face you’d make. Your tight, wet walls hugging him just right. Like, he’s where he’s meant to be.

And the way you would look, bouncing on top of him. Your tits, your blissed-out face, the way your soft lips would part when you called out his name and cried for more.

Those lips.

The way he’d love to see them swollen and slobbering around the base of his cock. Fuck. His hips buck reflexively, and he hisses out a breath through his clenched teeth. When his phone lights up with your name, he answers before it can make a sound. You’re so bold. He likes that. It plasters a saucy grin on his face.

And now, with your breathy voice crackling through his janky phone speaker, he’s not gonna last long. You've got him losing his composure for the second time in one day. His whole body is rigid. His toes flex and snap unconsciously, and his jaw tenses. He hears your soft moan, and his thoughts are overflowing. He has no filter left.

“Yeah, baby? You moaning for me?” His hips punch up into his fist, and he gives in, allowing himself firm, severe strokes. “You’ve got me so hard. You moaning for my cock?”

You are so not gonna answer that one. If the next words out his mouth are, “Yeah, you like that?” you’re gonna block him for that. But it is undeniably hot to hear him already so worked up. You just know he’s gonna be coming all over himself again for you, and that really does make you moan just for him.

Your noises earn you another growly groan from Joel that you’d kill to hear again. The more uninhibited his noises are, the louder you get in response.

“You using your fingers, or you have a toy?” his question is punctuated with a grunt.

“Mm, just fingers,” you purr, finally granting him an actual response as you roll your hips. Having Joel on the line gives you a heady sense of satisfaction. Wondering what’s going to come out of his filthy mouth next gives you a shiver of anticipation.

“I know that sweet pussy is just achin’ to be filled again.” Correct.

“Yes.”

“S’right, baby, I know.”

Joel whimpering on the phone for you is absolutely going to get you off. Your hips chase your own fingers. You switch your phone audio to speakerphone and drop it on your pillow so you can use both hands. Pinching at your own nipples as if it were Joel’s big hand under your smuggled shirt.

“Tell me,” he pants, “who do you need to fill it for you?”

“You, Joel.”

“Fuck,” he chokes out, “you wanna ride this cock, huh baby?”

“Mhmm.” Bingo. Right again. You wish you could feel the pressure of him inside of you, massaging and soothing away the agony. The weight of his body atop of yours, so solid and secure. You can just about feel the pressure of his pelvis grinding into you. The friction from the coarse curls at the base of his cock getting you closer and closer.

“Know you’d do so good,” he cuts himself off with a low noise, “so damn sexy.”

“What else would you do with me?” You wanna hear it. For your own fantasy and to know what he’s into.

“I’d have you taking me down your throat til you’re crying on it for me, fuck,” a primal noise erupts from him.

Face fucking. Of course. You can’t deny that when he says it, your body responds instantaneously. Your pussy floods eagerly at the idea, and your cheeks burn hot from the visual he gives you. You swallow down your moans, and you can imagine the weight of him on your tongue and the strain of trying to swallow around his cock.

“You wanna come down my throat?” As if that isn’t a fucking siren song that would make him steer a fleet of ships into a cliff? Your salacious words are too much.

“Shit. Yeah, baby, wanna watch you swallow for me.” You let all your moans and gasps flow freely for him to hear. “I’m so fuckin’ close,” he can’t stop the words from spilling out his mouth, “let me hear it, baby,” he can’t stop his pending bliss either. “Please, baby, I can’t, oh f-fuck,” he cuts himself off with another primitive grunt, and that’s precisely what your cavewoman cunt wanted to hear.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” The horny goblins chant out loud this time. You can envision sweaty, pleading Joel lurching toward a reckless, full-body climax.

You’re far from grace when the crude sounds he lets out turn you into an uncivilized beast. You hear him gasping, growling, and whining for you. It plunges you into a staggering orgasm. Rolling waves of ecstasy leave you panting and sweating.

You lie in bed, chest rising and falling beneath the Creed logo. You’re left stunned at the intensity. A dreamy smile spreads across your face, and warm contentment, like honey, pours slowly over your muscles. Relaxing you as your tension softens and you turn to pick your phone back up.

Why was it so wholly consuming just to listen to him? Imagining the mess he made again,

because of you.

Maybe you’re just made for each other.

You and Joel.

Oh, god. You should start listening to Alanis Morissette and Evanescence and trade your car for a 1990s-era Toyota 4runner and a pack of Marlboro Smooths. Really lean into matching his freak and the divorced alt-rock vibes.

You laugh softly into your phone before a deep sigh possesses you, and you nearly fall asleep. You stretch and smile, letting your heavy eyelids rest.

He’s muttering something at you, catching his breath from the stress of being that fucking horned up for you all evening. And the overexertion of lasting long enough to hear your sweet cries of release.

“You’re unreal,” his smoky voice rings with awe. “Got me shooting loads like a fucking teenager.”

You snort at the juxtaposition of his tender voice and crude comment before ending the call with a whispered, “Goodnight.”

It shouldn’t make you smile.

But he’s somehow such an enticing disaster. A cliche lonely bachelor, a cocksure idiot who knows he’s got a big dick and a generous guy who was willing to fix a stranger's car.

You shouldn’t be trying to justify it, but you know he had you figured out earlier.

You may be sated tonight, but you won’t be able to rest.

Not until you get your hands on that DILF – or rather, your pussy on that dick.

-> Part 3

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stevie-petey · 8 months ago

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episode seven: the bite

“Yeah, we ended up trapped in their secret base underneath Hawkins.” Dustin further explains, to which everyone’s eyes widen at. “It was fun. Spent my birthday in mortal danger.” At the same time the kids all wish you a belated birthday, which you salute them for. “Thanks, guys. I’m just happy I wasn’t gravely injured this time.” “And that Steve finally kissed you.” Dustin unhelpfully adds before Steve is covering his mouth to shut him up. His face reddens, embarrassed and nervous. Jonathan is standing too close to him for comfort right now.

Summary: steve and robin are your nightmare blunt rotation, you manage to escape a russian lair: mario cart style, you learn that therapy sessions are fun in public bathrooms, steve places your brother on the russian fbi most wanted list, el probably just killed a bunch of people (deserved), and reunions with jonathan are always special when one of you is gravely injured

Rating: general, cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of blood, graphic depictions of blood and gore, cursing

Words: 10.1k

Before you swing in: HI IM ALIVE !!! my laptop isnt ,,,, but im trying to ignore that. sincerely apologize for the wait. my laptop shits down randomly every ten minutes and my new one is backordered so ive been fighting demons to write this. i also had a hard time with the bathroom scene with robin. i wanted to get that scene just right. it took a lot of rewriting, but i think im happy with how it ended up <3 pls enjoy this child of mine. she cost me blood, sweat, and tears lmao

“Boop!” Steve’s finger pokes your nose and he lets out a delirious giggle. “I booped you!”

At first it was adorable, endearing even, when he booped your nose. However, he’s done this five times now in the last minute alone. That, and you’ve been trying to give Dustin directions back to the elevator while dodging Steve’s surprisingly aggressive nose boops. All while the threat of armed Russians running after the cart looms over you. “Turn left here–would you stop it?”

“Wanna boop that pretty little nose,” Steve’s glossy eyes struggle to find yours, his motor skills delayed and concerning. His left eye has all but swollen shut and you’re still not sure if his unusual behavior is due to head trauma or something else. “C’mere, angel.”

He tries to boop you again, and before you can dodge the attack, Robin’s hand grabs his finger and she lets out a pathetic scoff. “You’re hogging the boops, dingus!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yeah huh!”

Steve’s arm reaches over you and he bats at Robin. They start to hit one another, though their movements are slow and weak. They giggle as they fight, and you’re stuck in the middle of it. You try to push them off of you, but the two teens are too busy pinching each other and cackling to pay you any attention. It’s miserable.

Erica, from the passenger seat of the cart, turns and winces at your predicament. “What is wrong with them?”

“I don’t know!” Dustin keeps his eyes in front of him as he drives, though he’s equally as confused and unnerved. Secretly, he’s glad he’s the one driving. Otherwise he’d be in the middle of a Steve and Robin giggle sandwich like you are.

“Whose hand is that?” You twist around. There’s a foreign body part that’s currently resting on your ass. Steve snickers and Robin puffs out her cheeks and giggles, neither one of them confessing. You’re about to start kicking shins when the cart comes to a screeching halt. The force of it throws you and the two teens back with a painful thud. “Christ!”

“You guys alright back there?”

Somehow you wind up with Steve’s elbow in your ribcage and Robin’s head smacking into yours. Hissing in pain, you throw the two off of you and glare at your brother. You seriously fear the day he gets his license. “I want to die.”

Dustin turns back around in his seat and gulps. Steve’s and Robin’s own groans of pain can be heard from behind him. “They’re fine.”

Sneakers squeak against the tile floor and the doors to the back of the cart fly open. You’re greeted with Erica and Dustin, eyes wide as they take in the scene before them. You’re squished underneath the teens. You try shoving them off of you again, but they’re dead weight on you.

“Wanna kiss again, Y/N? I really liked it,” Steve smacks his lips as his head rests against your stomach. “Wanted to do that for so long.”

Your cheeks burn at his words and your stomach flutters. You haven’t forgotten about the kiss earlier. God, you haven’t. It leaves you breathless every time you remember how it felt to have him so close, to smell him and taste him. A part of you wants to ask how long he’s thought about kissing you, but you know that the back of a cart while fleeing from Russians isn’t the most appropriate setting.

Robin squirms next to you, her head also somehow on your stomach, pinning you down. “Can I get a kiss too?”

“If either one of you kisses me right now, my knives will be the last things you see.” The two teens make despaired noises, which you groan at. Meanwhile, Dustin and Erica continue to stand at the end of the cart, unmoving. You clench your teeth. “A little help here?”

Dustin mumbles a sheepish apology and yanks Steve’s arm while Erica yanks at Robin, freeing you. As soon as you’re able to, you jump out of the cart and start clapping your hands to speed everyone along. “We gotta go!”

“We’re trying, Y/N!” Erica groans, struggling to get Robin up from the ground.

You start to help, though you nearly fall when Dustin throws Steve against you. A complaint lingers on your lips, but when you see that your brother is now at the elevator doors with a keycard in his hand, you swallow it down.

Steve, however, is full of complaints. “This sucks.”

You blow hair out of your face and don’t bother responding to him. Instead, you watch anxiously as your brother swipes the key card he must’ve stolen earlier. When the scanner’s light flashes green and opens the elevator door, you exhale with relief. At least something has gone right today.

After practically throwing Steve and Robin into the elevator with Erica’s help, Dustin hits a button and closes the door. As soon as it shuts, the room starts to move. You brace yourself, now familiar with how fast the damn thing can go.

The elevator ascends at a nauseating speed and there’s a crash behind you. Turning around, you find Robin holding a dolly in place as Steve gets on. He holds his hands out and starts to cheer as his friend snickers. They look like goddamn toddlers at daycare.

“Hey, no!” You feel like a parent, yanking at Steve’s arm to get him down from the dangerous position. The elevator is moving too fast to be messing around on. “This isn’t playtime–”

“He looks like he’s surfing, Y/N!” Robin squeals with excitement, rolling the dolly to the left.

Steve’s body twists and he steadies himself with a laugh. “I’m surfing!”

“Stop fucking surfing!”

You fight with the teens. Steve refuses to get down and Robin keeps rolling the dolly away from you. As you yell at them, Dustin and Erica exchange concerned looks. You overhear the girl mention how they seem drunk, and you’re about to tell her that she might be right, when Robin pulls the dolly from underneath Steve and sends him crashing into the ground.

“Wipeout!”

You’re checking Steve for injuries as soon as he lands. Dustin kneels next to you and feels his forehead and winces. “He’s burning up.”

Not liking the sound of that, you check Steve’s pupils. The room’s lighting is dim, but it’s obvious that his brown eyes are almost entirely taken over by the blacks of his pupils. “Holy shit, they’re scarily dilated.”

“Ow. Thought you liked my eyes,” Steve swats at your hands sadly. He whines, trying to get you to let go of him. “Said you liked brown.”

“I do like brown, but I also like when you don’t act like a three year old.” You soothe him before turning to Dustin. “Any idea what it could mean?”

“Maybe he’s drugged?” Erica suggests.

You frown. “Could explain why he keeps trying to–” Steve reaches up and boops Dustin’s nose. He giggles and your brother looks annoyed. Sighing, you finish what you had been trying to say. “Boop people. Why he keeps trying to boop people.”

“Your turn, angel!”

Dustin intercepts Steve’s finger, which you’re grateful for. He gently smacks the teen’s face to get his attention. “Steve, are you drugged?”

“How many times, dad?” His voice drips with sarcasm and he rolls his eyes. “I don’t do drugs. It’s only marijuana.”

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Y/N, focus.” Dustin dodges another incoming boop and swats Steve’s hand away. “This isn’t funny, okay? We need to know what they did to you.”

“C’mon, honey.” Your fingers run through Steve’s hair. Parts of it have dried blood. Something more than a beating happened to him and Robin, you just don’t know what. If they’re really drugged, you have no way of knowing if they’ll be okay, and a part of you is terrified. “Work with us, please. What did they give you?”

“Are you gonna die on us?” Dustin asks, concerned as well.

“I’ll tell you!” Robin shouts from the corner she’s slouched in, eager to please you. She twirls her hair around her finger and gives you an unsettling smile. “We all die, my strange little child friend. It’s just a matter of how… and when.”

Neither you nor Dustin say anything for a few moments. Both of you blink, trying to process what exactly the teen has just said. Afraid to look away from her in case she tries to possess you or something, you slowly nod. “Okay, thank you for sharing, Robin.”

She flashes you a thumbs up and proudly smiles. “Happy to help!”

“They’re gonna be looking for us up there,” your brother redirects the attention back to the fact that you’re all still very much in danger. He starts to interrogate Steve, trying to come up with a plan. “So I need you to tell me where you parked your car.”

“Oh, can we make a pit stop at the food court?” Steve’s eyes glaze over and you know you’ve lost him again.

Robin leans forward and starts playing with your hair. “I would kill for a hot dog on a stick!”

You snap your fingers at the two of them. They’re impossible to level with, you’re not even sure why you’re still trying. “Guys, we need to focus.”

“No! No hot dog on a stick,” Steve suddenly lifts himself up and glares at Robin. “The guy at the counter said that Y/N she has pretty eyes. He’s an asshole.”

“You mean Dave? When the hell did he say that?”

Steve scoffs at you. “Last week. Ruined my whole day.”

“Fine! We’ll get you and Robin something else to eat.” Dustin says, which Robin cheers at, though he ignores her. “But only if you tell me where your car is parked.”

Suddenly Steve’s hazy eyes fill with remorse. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh? I don’t like uh-oh, can we not uh-oh?” Dustin nudges you with his shoulder to shut you up and let Steve explain. You mumble an apology. “Okay, why the uh-oh?”

“They took the keys.” Steve shoves his hands into his pockets and reveals that there’s nothing in them. “The Russians, they took the keys. Like forever ago.” For some reason this is hilarious to Robin, who starts to laugh hysterically in the corner. He joins her, amused by the whole thing. “That’s a bummer, right?”

You drop your head in your hands as Dustin sighs. With no keys and no way out of the mall, you’re not sure what else you can do. The only other option would be the bus that takes commuters home, but it comes every few hours and you have no idea what time it even is right now.

Which means you’d be left with having to hide a very drugged up Steve and Robin in a giant mall swarming with Russian undercover guards for an unforeseen amount of time.

Not ideal.

“We’re doomed.” You sigh into your hands.

Dustin nods beside you. “Yeah. We’re doomed.”

–

When the five of you finally reach the mall, you guide everyone through the back hallway and fling the doors open. Fresh air hits your face and you take a moment to inhale. It’s only then that you notice that it’s dark outside. The air is warm, crickets chirp faintly from far away. What day is it? How long could you have possibly been down in the lair?

As you have a minor breakdown trying to get your bearings, Steve and Robin walk behind you. Their mouths are wide open as they greet the fresh air with glee. “Oh my God, that tastes so good! Steve, can you taste the air?”

They stick their tongues out and marvel at the world around them. “I taste it!”

You watch them with your arms crossed. If you had any suspicion before that they were drugged, seeing them try to eat the air only confirms it.

“Shit!” Dustin screams out of nowhere and grabs your hand. He tugs at you to start running. You look up and see two Russians men now running straight towards you.

“Come on!” You grab Erica’s hand and shove her in front of you to run alongside your brother. Then you grab Steve and Robin by their shoulders and all but throw them against the mall’s door. “Go!”

“Why are we running?” Steve mopes, tired from all the physical activity he’s been forced to endure these last few minutes.

You don’t bother answering him and instead shove him inside the second Dustin gets the mall’s doors opened. Everyone runs, though you’re not sure if anyone has an actual plan. The guard’s footsteps can be heard behind you, and all you know is that you guys need to hide until you can figure something else out.

“Any chance you guys know any hiding spots?” You shout behind you to the kids, nearly tripping over your feet as you do so.

“No, this mall is one giant public swamp.” Dustin responds, huffing.

Steve stumbles next to you, still obviously drugged up, yet giggling as always. “It feels like we’re running from movie villains!”

Turning a corner, what Steve has said floats through your mind. Running from movie villains… What are the odds the Russians know about American movie theaters? They’re dark and usually crowded with people for night showings. It could be the only safe place to hide.

“Dustin, start heading towards the theater!” Erica and your brother start asking you questions, but you don’t have time to explain. “Just trust me.”

Somehow you all make it to the theater’s doors without being detected. Poking your head through, you make sure there isn’t anyone nearby. When you’re sure it’s safe, you open the door wider and motion for everyone to follow. “Let’s go.”

Dustin guides, dragging Robin behind him while Erica follows. You stay with Steve and start walking once the others have gone ahead.

“Awesome, movie date!” Steve exclaims with a dopey smile. He’s about to say something else when his eyes find something. Completely forgetting that you’re holding his hand, he runs towards a nearby trash can. He pulls out a bag of popcorn that had been on top of the trash pile and quickly starts shoving the food into his mouth.

“If you ever wanna kiss me again, stop eating trash popcorn.” You snatch the bag out of his hands with a disgusted face. “I cannot believe I have to tell you that.”

“But I’m hungry.” Steve pouts, staring down at his now empty hands with despair.

You ignore his pathetic pouting and follow Dustin, who has now flung open the curtains to the theater’s seats. He scopes the area and starts heading right. When he stops at two open seats, he points his finger at Steve and Robin. “You two, sit.”

“But these seats are too close!” Robin complains, and Steve voices his own qualms about the seating arrangements.

However, you have other things to worry about. Shoving the teens into their seats, you wipe away crumbs on the ground with your shoe. “I’ll sit on the floor next to them. No way I’m leaving them alone when they’re high off their asses.”

Dustin looks at you, skeptical. He doesn’t want to leave you alone with them, afraid they’ll somehow get you into trouble. “You sure?”

“Positive. I’ll take care of them.” you squeeze his arm. While you understand his concern, you can’t bring yourself to abandon Steve and Robin again. Not when Steve’s face still bleeds slightly and Robin’s cheek swells with a bruise. They got hurt because of you; the least you can do is stay with them now. “Find other seats, we’ll be fine here. Just… be careful, alright?”

A man behind you shushes you rudely, reminding you where you are. If the kids don’t leave now, they run the risk of drawing more attention. You push your brother back up the aisle of seats, and he seems to understand what you’re doing. “Fine, but whatever you guys do: Don’t. Go. Anywhere.”

“Fine, dad.” Steve glares at the kid, which you sigh at. It’s going to be a long night.

Dustin leaves after you’ve saluted him, and Erica follows. Once they’re gone, you do your best to keep Steve and Robin quiet. As you shush them, you look up and see Dustin standing near the exit. You tilt your head, hoping he sees your questioning, and thankfully he does. He holds his radio up and mimes making a phone call.

He’s calling for help.

You nod at Dustin, indicating that you understand, and he leaves. After you’ve checked to make sure Erica is still in her own seat at the other end of the row, you turn back towards Steve and Robin; they’re enamored with the movie playing. They whisper to themselves, not understanding what’s happening, but at least they’re quiet and out of danger. Slowly, you start to relax.

All you have to do is stay in this movie theater until Dustin can contact the party for help. Should be simple enough. Except you make the fatal mistake of absentmindedly mentioning that you’re thirsty. “God, I need water right now.”

“Water.” Robin exhales as if it’s a prayer. Her entire face twists into longing and she hits Steve’s shoulder. “Water. Now.”

“On it!” He nods earnestly and suddenly the two of them are scrambling out of their seats. You snap your fingers at them, hiss whispered threats, but they don’t listen. They climb over you as if you’re an inconvenient bug on the ground.

Before you can even stand up, they’re already halfway up the aisle of seats. You barely have time to get up before they’ve left the theater itself. “I’m so over them being drugged.” You huff, running after them. There isn’t time to tell Erica where you’re going, too afraid you’ll lose them if you don’t hurry.

Those fuckers better save you some water.

–

Steve makes you hold the button on the water fountain because he “can’t do it himself”.

“Is my help really necessary?” You complain, arms crossed as you watch Steve messily gulp water down. His neck is bent at an awkward angle and for a brief moment you truly question whether or not you find him attractive. Water drips down his chin and his gulps are obscenely loud.

“Yes,” Steve responds in between slurps. The cold water washes over him and he’s never felt closer to God than in this moment. “That’s amazing.”

Robin stands next to you, patiently waiting her turn. “So like, I wasn’t totally focused in there or anything, but I’m pretty sure that mom was trying to bang her son.”

“In the movie?” You hadn’t been paying much attention in the theater. Your view from the ground was shitty and you were too busy making sure the idiots didn’t somehow kill themselves. However, despite your lack of attention, you doubt that’s what the movie’s premise had been about.

“Wait, the hot chick was Alex P. Keaton’s mom?” Your hip knocks against Steve’s, causing him to choke on the water he’d been drinking. Coughing, he clutches at his chest. “I could’ve died, Y/N!”

“Sorry,” you smile sympathetically at him, feigning pity. He lost the privilege of calling other women hot after getting you locked in a Russian elevator for twelve hours. “My hip slipped.”

“Aren’t you two going to question how the guy was able to go back in time?” Robin is still focused on the whole son being in love with his mom plotline.

Steve inhales even more water. “Then why is it called Back to the Future?”

Robin begins explaining the complexities of the movie, but you tune her out. While you appreciate that she’s trying to make conversation, you’re uneasy about being out in the open like this. There’s no one around, but you can never be too careful. It’s only when she shoves Steve away from the water fountain that you focus again.

“Wait, I was supposed to go after him–” Your protesting falls on deaf ears as Robin steals your turn for water. Reluctantly, you step away. She can hold her own damn water fountain button.

You notice that Steve has wandered off a few feet away. He still stumbles as he walks, though his footsteps aren’t as unsteady as they were earlier. He stops in the middle of the walkway and you join him.

“Wow,” he breathes out, looking up. He’s mesmerized by what he’s seeing. Curious, you look up as well, though you only see the skylights above. It’s night, no natural light flows through the panels. Yet Steve stands transfixed next to you. “The stars.”

“The stars?” You’re not sure what he means. You can’t see the stars from where you stand. Then again, you suppose he could be seeing things, given that he’s heavily drugged up.

“The stars are pretty like you, angel.” Steve says, eyes still on the sky, yet his hand somehow finds yours. He intertwines your fingers together and is able to pull you closer, albeit weakly. “You’ve always been so beautiful… scared me when we were younger.”

Your breath catches and you look at him. He’s looking up, seemingly unaware of the effect his words have on you. An overwhelming warmth fills your chest. You want to say something, tell him you love him and that his beauty last July had terrified you.

But you don’t say anything. Steve is still high, he wouldn’t remember what you’ve said, and you want your confessions to sit within his chest the way his sit in yours. Instead, you find yourself admiring him. You study the length of his neck. The mole that rests just below his jaw and the others that litter his pretty face. His nose, the dip of his chin. The hair tucked behind his ears. His eyes.

Steve Harrington is beautiful. Scars and all.

Then he starts to gag and quickly the moment is ruined.

“Oh, God.” You quickly grab his shoulders and frantically look for the nearest bathroom. In your haste, Robin reacts to Steve’s sudden sickness by gagging as well, and you’re very afraid of what’s about to unfold. “Okay, bathroom time! For the love of God, we need to find a bathroom.”

They’re useless as you twist and turn them around as you search for a bathroom. When you see a nearby sign, you drag them behind you and pray that they make it the next fifteen feet. As soon as you barrel through the bathroom door, Steve and Robin run out from behind you and just barely make it to the toilets before spilling their guts.

You stand near the doorway, cringing. It’s not a pretty sight.

They puke, spit out the excess, and flush the toilet to clear it before the next round of vomiting begins. Then they do it all over again. It goes on like this for a while, and all you can do is linger in the doorway and offer halfhearted comfort from across the room. You’ve never really gotten over your slight fear of vomit, if you’re being honest.

Eventually Steve and Robin seem to throw everything up. When they’ve flushed the last of their sickness down, you hesitantly walk towards them and stand in between the stalls. “We feeling any better?”

“The room stopped spinning for me.” Robin says, her feet propped against the stall’s wall. You have no idea how she’s laying down the bathroom’s ground so casually. “Steve, is it still spinning for you?”

He looks up for a moment, testing what will happen. When he feels perfectly fine, he exhales with relief. “Holy shit. No.”

“You probably flushed the drugs out of your system when you puked.” You observe, leaning against the stall’s divider. “What were you guys on?”

“Allegedly a truth serum.” Robin says from the floor. “Ask me something, test if it’s really all gone.” Then, because she’s trying to get you to laugh, she lowers her voice and impersonates one of the Russians. “Interrogate me.”

Though you smile at her, your stomach twists. Not only were they beaten for information, they were also injected with a goddamn truth serum. Treated like lab rats. And you left them behind, all alone; you’ll never forgive yourself for that.

But they’re here with you now, you remind yourself. They came out the other side. So you’ll do whatever you can to make it up to them and show them that you’re here for them. Even if that means asking bizarre questions to make sure they’re no longer being controlled by truth serums. “When was the last time you peed your pants?”

“Today.”

Steve looks at you to make sure you’ve also just heard Robin’s response. “What?”

You shrug. “I can’t really judge. I peed my bed a few years ago. Watched a scary movie with Dustin and had a nightmare. Wasn’t my proudest moment.”

“What?” Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“See!” Robin lifts her head up from the ground to look at you. “I was also scared. When the Russian doctor pulled out a bone saw, it was only a little bit, but holy shit.”

She starts to laugh and you join her, despite the image of the bone saw you saw burning your mind. You had seen it in the room when you were saving them. It had terrified you. Yet Robin laughs about it now, so you allow yourself to as well.

Steve shakes his head at you both. “Yeah, it’s definitely still in her system.”

“And it’s not in yours, Harrington?”

His eyes shine when he looks at you. He’s coming back to himself, you can feel it. The knowing smirk is back. “Clean as a whistle, Henderson.”

Robin clears her throat, now uncomfortable. “Aright, my turn. I want to ask him a question.” When Steve gives her the okay, she takes a deep breath. She looks at you, a resigned look on her face. Something seems to have struck her, something that terrifies her. Her laughter is gone. “Have you… ever been in love?”

Steve doesn’t expect the question. He looks startled by it and tilts his head up at you. Your eyes meet, and you nod, giving him the permission he doesn’t truly need. You talked about it once, last year. The two of you in your room late one night, whispering confessions about love and the pain it brought. It was never a secret.

“Yep. Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.” Steve mimes a gunshot to his heart, trying to lessen the unease. He will never really feel comfortable talking about that time of his life.

“Oh, my God.” Robin rolls her eyes. “She’s such a priss.”

You walk over to her stall and nudge her leg with your shoe. “Hey, she’s my friend, ya know.” Ignoring how dirty the bathroom floor inevitably is, you sit next to Robin. “She’s not a priss.”

“At least, not really.” Steve adds, nostalgia in his voice.

Robin seems to hear it, too. She sits up, eyes not meeting yours. “Are you still in love with Nancy?”

Without meaning to, you hold your breath. You know Steve no longer loves her, but it’s July and somehow he still isn’t yours. There’s still trust between you, but your body tenses and your heart stutters.

And yet Steve doesn’t hesitate. It’s immediate. He doesn’t even have to think about it. He’s known since April, though his body has known since he offered you his hand the day you almost hit his car with your bike. “No.”

“Why not?” Robin doesn’t know why she’s pushing this. You’re next to her, your thigh presses against hers. She knows that Steve is in love with you. He confessed it to her when she was teasing him about it just a few days ago. She devoted an entire whiteboard to tallying all the times he failed to ask you out.

Steve is yours, and you’re his, but Robin can’t help but pick at scabs and expose old wounds.

There’s a few moments of silence. Steve takes his time responding. He can almost feel your hand ghosting over his, even though you’re separated by a stall. “I think it’s because I found someone who’s a little bit better for me.”

You’re quiet. Robin is as well.

“You know, it’s crazy.” Maybe it’s the truth serum still coursing through Steve’s veins or maybe it’s because he’s almost died a million times tonight. All he knows is that he’s tired of running. You deserve to know how he feels about you. “Ever since Dustin got home, he’s been badgering me about asking this girl out. That I need to ‘find my Suzie’. A girl he met at camp who somehow became his girlfriend, who I’m not even sure is actually real.”

He’s rambling. He knows he is, but you and Robin remain silent and patiently wait for him to keep going. Steve inhales, holds the breath for a few seconds, and exhales. All summer he’s been agonizing over this very moment. He’s spent countless sleepless nights terrified that he’d somehow ruin it. In the end, his own cowardice only hurt you; he still remembers the way your body shook in his arms while he held you as you cried last night. Steve remembers the fear on your face when you realized you couldn’t save him. That the Russians were going to take him away from you.

It was then, seeing the terror in your eyes and hearing the desperation in your voice, that Steve Harrington finally realized you would give all of yourself to him; that is what love is.

To love someone is to know that they deserve your love.

And for some reason you love Steve. You see something in him that deserves your love. He’s no longer terrified that his love isn’t enough for you. He realizes now that it’s enough. His love is enough because it is his.

You deserve love, and Steve is more than happy to give all of his to you.

“The point is,” Steve runs a hand through his hair. He can feel you listening, waiting. “This girl, you know, the one that I love, it’s somebody that I didn’t even talk to in school… and I don’t even know why.”

A small laugh cuts through the barrier between you and Steve. The two of you spent years together in school, and not once did he ever talk to you. There was one time, early sophomore year, when he collided with you in the hallway while running to the bathroom to meet Nancy. He had apologized to you, but he continued running and hadn’t looked back.

It was two years ago, but you had only been kids, then.

Hearing your laugh emboldens Steve. He clears his throat, lifts his head. He wishes you were in the stall with him. “I think… I think I was scared. I had always watched her from afar. I mean, here was this girl who would offer help to anyone who needed it. Didn’t matter who they were, she’d help them. I just, I didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand why someone would go out of their way to help others without expecting anything in return.”

“I mean, there I was, worrying about being prom king while this girl was tutoring kids for free in the school library.” Steve scoffs at himself. He will never forgive himself for wasting all those years with you. He could’ve been your friend sooner had he not been such an asshole. “It’s stupid. I mean, Dustin’s right, it’s all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because when I think about it, I should’ve been friends with this girl the whole time.”

You rest your head against the wall, buzzed with warmth. “You should’ve,” you find yourself saying softly. Though you know yourself. Steve came into your life when you needed him the most, at the right time, for the right reasons. The timing had never been right before. “But I’m sure the girl is glad you ended up how you did.”

“Me, too.” Warm honey laces Steve’s voice. He can almost feel your body on his. He can see the lines and strings above him, materializing into something more solid with every word he says. “Still should’ve happened sooner, though. I mean, this girl we’re talking about is incredible. She makes me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met. She’s witty, she always knows what to say and she’s so goddamn smart. I don’t think she knows this, but she has this way with people…”

His voice trails off. It’s what he loves the most about you. The effect you have on everyone you meet. The impact you make within a person’s life simply by smiling at them. “She has a way of making someone into a better person without even realizing it, just by being a part of their life. She… she made me a better person. Taught me to be softer, more vulnerable.”

Steve hadn’t known gentleness until he met you.

To your left, Robin starts to close in on herself with every word he Steve says. She slouches down, drops her head into her knees almost as if in despair.

“She saw this good in me that no one else had before. For some reason, instead of using it against me like others have, she believed that I could be someone different. That I could change… It didn’t matter how long it would take me, she would wait. And I’m so goddamn lucky to be in love with someone as selfless as her.”

Guilt eats away at Robin. She’s harbored a resentment towards Steve all summer, even though she tried to swallow the feeling down. The love between you and Steve had always been obvious from the first day she met you. She watched the two of you dance around each other every day, basking in the sickly sweet young love you shared with one another.

It’s not that Robin resented your relationship with Steve. No, she was happy for you, truly. The bitter taste in her mouth whenever she watched you gently stroke his cheek with your fingertips was remorse intermingling with resentment because she will never be able to do that. She will never be able to love someone so openly. To have someone hold her hand and call her tender names.

You’re a beautiful girl with a boy who could adore you freely. Robin can only ever watch you from the shadows, scared to be caught.

You notice Robin’s shift in demeanor and press your body closer to hers. You’ve never seen her look so small before, so unsure of herself, and it worries you. “Hey, is everything okay?”

She shakes her head, too afraid that if she talks she’ll start to cry. The kindness that you offer her stings. She doesn’t deserve it. Not when she believes you outshine the sun. Before she can make up some excuse, Steve knocks on the stall. “Robin? Y/N? Did someone just OD over there?”

“No,” Robin’s breath is shaky, which worries you even more. “We’re still alive.”

You try to meet her eye, but she won’t look up at you. You’re not sure what’s happened, but she’s closed herself off from you; you feel like an intruder. Placing an arm on her shoulder, you’re about to offer her some more water when Steve’s body slides into the stall.

He settles himself across from you, shy with his movements. Your heart lurches when you see him, too. He confessed his love for you only moments prior, and you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and call him yours, but Robin looks pale. She’s scared. You just don’t know why.

“The floor’s disgusting,” she says to Steve, hoping to get the attention off of her.

“Yeah, well, I already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt, so…” He looks down, cringes slightly. You remain silent, and Robin’s eyes are still downcast. Seeing this, Steve tries to lighten the mood and asks Robin a teasing question. “So, what do you think?”

“About?”

“This girl,” he turns to you, then. He looks at you with such fondness and knows that both you and Robin know he had been talking about you the entire time. He’s trying to get you to laugh, bring a smile back to your faces.

Robin tries to play along, swallowing down the remaining bitterness. You’re sitting next to her, your hand is still on her arm. “She sounds awesome.”

“She is awesome.” Steve winks at you, hoping it’ll get you to blush the pretty pink he loves so much. When it works, he smiles. “And what about the guy?”

“I think he’s as sweet as honey in July.” You say, giving into Steve’s charm. It’s worked on you ever since the day you crashed into that ditch, even if back then you refused to admit it.

“Yeah? Well, I think he’s on drugs, and that he’s not thinking straight. That he doesn’t realize how lucky he is.” Robin interjects. She doesn’t look at you, her eyes remain on Steve. You raise your eyebrows at what she’s said. You hadn’t expected such a pessimistic response from her.

Off put by her sudden dejection, Steve becomes defensive. He doesn’t understand what Robin is doing. She was the one who kept encouraging Steve to ask you out all summer. “Really? ‘Cause I think he’s thinking a lot more clearly than usual. He knows what luck is.”

“Does he? What if there’s this other girl, one he hasn’t seen yet. I mean, really seen.” Robin swallows. Her fingers twist together nervously. “What if he one day sees her and realizes just how unlucky she is. I don’t think the guy would ever want to be her friend after that.”

“No, that’s not true. No way is that true.” Steve shifts closer to the two of you now, confused as to why Robin is saying all of this. Of course she’s his friend. “I mean, apart from the girl he’s in love with, this other girl is the guy’s only friend.”

“Listen to me, Steve.” Robin still doesn’t look at you, but you listen silently and allow her the space she seems to need. “It’s shocked me to my core, but I like you. I really like you, but I’m not lucky like you are. I think… I think you should use that luck. Go for the girl.”

Steve tilts his head, not quite following. “What does luck have to do with any of it?”

Robin sighs and you sit next to her, quiet. She seems to be trying to figure out what she wants to say, and somehow you think you know what she means by luck. It’s always fascinated you, luck and love. Two sides of the same coin. But it never occurred to you that there could be an undercurrent that cuts through the luck. A double meaning behind it.

“Do you remember what I said about Click’s class? About me being jealous and, like, obsessed?”

“Yeah,”

Robin closes her eyes and sighs. When she opens them, there’s a resolved look in them. “It… It isn’t because I had a crush on you. It’s because she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

At first, you’re confused. You had missed their conversation about Mrs. Click’s class. They must’ve had it when they were being held captive, but the phrasing of what Robin has just said feels heavier than it should. Her words land on you with a force you hadn’t seen coming.

If Robin had for some reason talked about being obsessed with Steve in a class they once shared, but not because she had a crush on him, but because a girl wouldn’t stop staring at him…

“Mrs. Click?”

Even though you’ve done well remaining silent this entire time, you can’t help but snort at Steve’s response. He’s trying, you know he is. Robin must know this too, because she laughs softly at him as well. “No, Steve.” Her smile dims, however. “That would’ve made things easier for me, though.”

Easier. Luckier.

And then it all clicks.

Robin’s insistence on always pleasing you. The subtle touches. The way her eyes would darken sometimes when you looked at Steve. How, only an hour ago, she had asked you for a kiss when she was still under the influence of the truth serum.

You draw your hand towards hers and slowly thread your fingers together. Robin’s head spins, she finally allows herself to look at you. She finds your eyes staring into hers. They’re kind, understanding. You’re looking right through her in this very moment, and Robin Buckley has never been more afraid.

“How long have you known?” You ask her, voice gentle.

Robin’s voice shakes. “Since Tammy Thompson…” She has to look away from you. She can’t do this with you looking at her. “She was in Mrs. Click’s class with me and Steve. I–I wanted her to look at me, but.. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from him and his stupid hair.”

She pauses, tries to compose herself, and you squeeze her hand three times. Once to tell her that you’re there, another to give her the reassurance to go on, and the final time to communicate that you understand. There isn’t a reason to be scared. Somehow, Robin knows what the gesture means. Breathing in, she looks at Steve and continues.

“And I didn’t understand, because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor and you asked dumb questions and you were a douchebag. And–and you didn’t even like her and I–” Her voice breaks. “I would go home… and just scream into my pillow.”

Steve looks between the two of you. It’s obvious he’s the only one not aware of the underlying layers. “But Tammy Thompson’s a girl.”

“Steve,” Robin breathes out, pleading. She doesn’t want to say it out loud. She can’t say it out loud. He needs to understand what she’s trying to say. Why she’s been giving him hell all summer. Why she feels guilty when she looks at you.

“Yeah?” But he doesn’t understand.

Robin can’t say anything. She looks at him, can feel the tears in her eyes; she’s begging now. Steve’s eyes find yours, silently begging you as well to explain this to him. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong. He doesn’t want to be doing something that could hurt Robin like this.

Your shoes squeak against the tile floors as you draw your knees into your chest. You’re not sure what else you can do. Robin has laid everything out for Steve. Your hand still holds hers and you try to quell the fear within you that maybe he’s being intentionally naive. Maybe he doesn’t want to believe it.

“Oh.”

It’s one word, one exhale of breath from a mouth that once used to say cruel things. Steve’s face softens, his jaw unclenches and his shoulders relax. He surprises you, showing nothing but empathy. He’s kind, he’s always been kind.

“Holy shit,” Steve doesn’t want to mess this up, but he’s never been good with words.

Robin laughs. “Yeah, holy shit.”

He sighs and leans against the stall wall. It’s quiet between the three of you. No one really knows what to say now. Steve is still processing, Robin’s heartbeat still hasn’t quite settled, and you’re trying to figure out how to tell her that you understand more than she may know. She’s braver than you, trusted you with this secret, and it’s only fair that you offer her a part of yourself as well.

Plus, it’s a wonderful ice breaker.

“You have terrible taste in women, Robin.” You nudge her with your shoulder, teasing. “I mean, I’ve heard Tammy Thompson during choir rehearsal. You can totally do better.”

“She wants to be a singer, she has dreams!” Robin defends the girl, the change in conversation bizarre but welcomed.

Steve, sensing that you’re trying to lessen the tension, gratefully plays along. “So what she has dreams? She can’t even carry a tune. But, more importantly, what do you know about taste in women, Y/N?”

“I see things,” you jut your head out, defiant. “Probably would’ve fallen in love with Nancy Wheeler had I known her instead of Jonathan.”

Their reactions are expected.

“You would’ve loved Nancy?” Steve exclaims at the same time as Robin guffaws, “You loved Byers?”

You laugh. It’s a full, whole body laugh. One you haven’t felt in so long. “Yes,” you wheeze out, the look on their faces killing you. Steve looks unnerved while Robin looks disgusted. “At least Jonathan doesn’t sound like a muppet when he sings.”

“Tammy does not!” Robin is laughing alongside you now. It’s been a long time since she’s laughed this hard, too.

Steve rolls his eyes, his own smile overtaking his face. “She sounds like a muppet giving birth, Robin.”

“That’s what she reminds me of!” You snap your fingers and point at him. “You’re right!”

Robin clutches her stomach as she laughs. She leans into your side as you lean into her. Steve starts doing a terrible impersonation of Tammy’s awful singing, which only gets the two of you to laugh even harder. Steve gets you to sing along. He grabs the hand that isn’t holding Robin’s and swings it around as the two of you sing. Robin joins, laughing more than singing. It’s lovely. Absolutely lovely.

And this is how Dustin finds the three of you.

He slams the bathroom door open, Erica right behind him, and stands in front of you.

“Okay,” he glares at you specifically. “What the hell, Y/N?”

You giggle at his disappointed dad stance. “I told you I’d take care of them.”

Dustin isn’t amused, which only makes your giggles turn to laughter again. The other two teens aren’t far behind you, descending into yet another fit of laughter. Hunched together, the three of you giggle breathlessly as your brother and Erica watch in disbelief.

But you ignore their questioning stares.

With both Steve and Robin holding your hands, laughter warming your belly, you feel like a kid again.

–

The bus becomes your only option.

“I managed to contact the party.” Dustin had informed you after your laughter died down.

Relief washed over you. “Thank God–”

“But then my walkie died.”

“Yeah,” you had sighed and dropped your head down in defeat. “Yeah, of course it did. Why wouldn’t it die when we need it?”

Which leads you to now: peering out the bathroom door with Steve breathing down your neck and Dustin in front of you, checking to make sure it’s safe. A crowd of people flood the once empty hallway. The movie must’ve just finished. Everyone is talking excitedly, having no idea that five teenagers are currently hiding in the bathroom from Russians.

You envy them.

“When I say ‘blend’, we go. Okay?” Dustin asks the group, eyes still on the mass of people exiting the theater.

“Because Steve dripping blood definitely will blend in.” You retort. It’ll be hard not to draw attention to yourselves with the way his face still oozes. It’s a long walk down to the bus station and you’re getting worried now. The mall closes in ten minutes, soon there won’t be any crowds to hide behind.

Dustin doesn’t bother justifying your remark. Instead he studies the flow of traffic before giving his signal. “Blend.”

The five of you swiftly exit the bathroom and align your pace with everyone around you. Dustin guides in front with Erica while you stay back with Steve and Robin. Your eyes move constantly, scanning every face you pass. Thankfully, the people close to you seem innocent enough.

Erica looks around, impressed. “Well, shit. That worked.”

“Of course it worked.” Dustin is smug, which makes you wince. He’s always had a bad habit of jinxing things. You really wish he had gotten more of your mom’s humility and less of your dad’s ego. “Now we just have to get on the bus with the rest of these plebes, and home sweet home, here we come.”

You shove your brother. “Can we not taunt our inevitable bad luck?”

“We’re in the clear now, Y/N. Trust me, in just twenty minutes we’ll be back home, where our dear mother awaits with her frantic arms wide open–”

“Uh, Dustin?” Steve eyes him nervously. Already you dread whatever he’s about to say. You guys only lasted thirty seconds without any bad luck. It’s a new record, honestly.

“What?”

“Yeah, we might not wanna go to your house.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Steve winces with regret. He knows he’s about to piss both Hendersons off. “I might’ve told them your full name.”

Dustin turns to look at him, bewildered. “What is wrong with you?”

“Dude, I was drugged.” Steve argues, which. Yeah. That’s fair.

Not liking that he apparently sold your brother out to Russians, yet understanding that Steve hadn’t been the most clear headed when it happened, you grab his hand. There’s more important matters to deal with, like whether or not he sold you out as well. “Did you tell them my full name?”

“No, I kept you safe.” He says, with an air of obviousness that you smirk at.

“Aw, thanks honey.” You kiss his cheek, not caring that Dustin is fuming in front of you.

“Oh, so you can resist for your girlfriend but not for her brother?” Dustin struggles to keep his voice low. He has never wanted to shove Steve down a flight of stairs more. “You were supposed to tough it out. Like a man!”

You flick the kid’s hat. “Hey, he was very manly defending my honor.”

“I hate you both–”

Robin suddenly freezes, her eyes catching on something. “Guys…”

Everyone stops, alarmed by the tone in her voice, before you see them. There, standing right in front of the exit of the mall, are the two Russian men from the alley. They’re stopping people, checking their faces, looking for you.

“Abort.” Dustin says, before one of the men makes direct eye contact with him. His face pales and you already have one hand on his shoulder, pulling at him to run. “Abort!”

Steve grabs Erica’s hand and motions for you and Dustin to run ahead as Robin guides. She pushes through the crowd of people and towards the escalators. However, when you get there, they’re roped off and blocked by plexiglass.

You kick at the glass, frustrated. The Russians are close now. Robin, quick as ever, steps past you and places herself in the middle of the two escalators. You’re confused at first, but then you realize there’s just enough space for your bodies to fit through. Sitting down, Robin is able to use the gap as a makeshift slide.

“Let’s go,” Steve places Erica to slide down next, then Dustin. When it’s your turn, he nods at you. “Ready?”

“I’m so tired of running from these shitheads.” You say before launching yourself down the escalators.

Robin waits for everyone at the bottom. When you’re all there, she waves for you to follow as you run again. None of you have any idea where to even hide now that the mall has emptied. There’s no one to hide behind, no corner to run into. And the goddamn Russians are fast, never trailing more than fifty feet behind you.

Somehow you end up in the food court. It isn’t much, but there’s at least vendor’s stalls and restaurant counters nearby. Panting, you point towards the nearest counter. “There! Everyone jump over!”

No one argues, doing as they’re told. You make it there first and help Erica over while Steve and Robin help Dustin. Kneeling down, you motion for everyone to sit with a finger to your lips. The men have to be nearby, you can practically feel their presence close. Facing your friends, you grip your knives and strain your ears for any sounds.

It’s tense. Dustin pants, he’s scared and overwhelmed and you wish you could offer him better protection. Steve glances at you, silently asking you what the next move is, and you shake your head helplessly. You’re cornered, there’s no way out of this one.

The sound of boots falling against the mall’s ground approaches. It grows louder and louder at a maddeningly slow pace. Your knuckles are white from how tightly they grip around the hilt of your switchblade. With one flick of your wrist, you know you could at least disarm one of the men long enough to cause a distraction. You’d never kill anyone, but you know from experience that a cut to the shoulder is sufficient enough.

You’re pulled away from your thoughts when a car alarm suddenly goes off. Its loud noise echoes within the empty mall. Everyone jumps at the unexpected sound, shuffling closer together. Deciding it’s worth the risk, you poke your head up to see what the hell is going on.

The guards are standing around a red convertible. It shakes, vibrates almost, and they look at one another in confusion. The car continues to shriek its alarm, and while the men stand in fear, you smile. There’s static in the air.

Looking up you see El, with an arm outstretched, on the second floor. Her face is strained, her fingers clench in mid air. The look on her face is terrifying, and you’ve never been happier to see blood drip down from her nose. She twists her arm and sends the car flying into the men. You duck as it crushes them, rolls over the tables and chairs in the center, before spiraling into the counter next to you. “Shit!”

The alarm stops ringing. Everything falls silent. Slowly, you and everyone else stand up to inspect the damage. A tire rim rolls past, the Russians guards are sprawled on the ground, unmoving. There’s smoke from where the car has landed, and you let out a low whistle. “Nice one, El.”

“El?” Dustin turns around, wondering if he’s heard you right.

“She’s up there,” you point to where she had been standing, but when you see Jonathan now standing next to her with Nancy, your heart stops. “Jonathan.”

You’re the first to start running, and when he sees that it’s you, Jonathan wastes no time running either. He’s down the escalator in seconds. Your whole body buzzes as you run, adrenaline and longing coursing through you. The moment he’s close enough, you practically leap into his arms.

“Bug,” he holds onto you tightly. He buries his face in your hair and you breathe him in. It’s a familiar scent, a familiar warmth. You had been so focused on escaping the Russian base that you hadn’t even considered that he and everyone else in the party could’ve been involved. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you tighten your arms around him, but when he makes a pained noise, you immediately pull away. It’s then that you notice the swelling in his head. The dried blood. Pressing your fingers softly to his face, you fill with concern. “What happened, are you hurt?”

Jonathan tries to shrug it off. He doesn’t care about what he’s been through. All he wants to focus on is that you’re okay, for once not covered in blood and bruises like he is. Wherever you’ve been these last few days, at least he knows you weren’t in any pain. “I’m fine, I’ll tell you everything later–”

“You flung that thing like a Hot Wheel!” Dustin exclaims to El, now joining you and Jonathan as the others gather around.

You don’t leave Jonathan’s side as everyone starts talking at once. Lucas asks why Erica is involved, to which you wince at. “I tried stopping them.”

“It’s their fault.” Erica points at Steve and Robin, clearing your name in the process, which you appreciate her for.

Steve stands next to you now and puts his hands on his hips. He doesn’t even try to deny that he’s the reason a ten year old girl ended up locked inside an underground Russian facility. “Yeah, true. Totally true. It’s absolutely our fault.”

Robin asks what happened to the car and Dustin and Steve explain El to her. They quickly catch her up to speed about the girl’s power, and you feel bad for the teen. It’s a lot of information to take in at once. Erica joins, having remembered her conversation with Dustin from earlier in the vents when he had explained the Upside Down to her.

Meanwhile, Nancy is focused on Robin. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“That’s Robin. She’s a friend.” You step between them. When Nancy sees that it’s you, she quickly looks away. She fidgets with her fingers, overwhelmed with shame and regret. She hasn’t forgotten the cruelty she showed you a few days ago. You haven’t forgotten either, but you’ve never been one to hold anger towards others. Extending a kind smile, you nod at her. “Hey, Nance.”

Nancy looks up, surprised, but smiles at you as well and it’s enough. Maybe one day you’ll sort through the tension that never seems to leave you and the girl alone. Untangle the lines and threads that haunt both of you. For now, there are other things to worry about.

Steve has started explaining the Russians now, and quickly it becomes clear that you’ve all been dealing with vastly different situations.

“Russians, what Russians?” Jonathan asks you with alarm.

“See those guys laying over there?” Everyone looks at where you’re pointing, the men still knocked out on the ground. “Russians. We enjoyed twenty-four wonderful hours with them.”

“Yeah, we ended up trapped in their secret base underneath Hawkins.” Dustin further explains, to which everyone’s eyes widen at.

“It was fun. Spent my birthday in mortal danger.” At the same time the kids all wish you a belated birthday, which you salute them for. “Thanks, guys. I’m just happy I wasn’t gravely injured this time.”

“And that Steve finally kissed you.” Dustin unhelpfully adds before Steve is covering his mouth to shut him up. His face reddens, embarrassed and nervous. Jonathan is standing too close to him for comfort right now.

Nancy looks uncomfortable with this new information, Mike makes a disgusted sound, Max high fives you, Lucas cheers, Will gasps and looks nervously towards his brother, and Jonathan chokes on his own spit. It’s truly a very wide array of reactions, all of which are expected to certain extents.

That doesn’t stop you from hitting the back of Dustin’s head, though. “Can we focus on the Russians infiltrating Hawkins?” Dustin hits your shoulder in retaliation, but he knows you’re right. He turns to Mike, upset that he hadn’t come sooner. “Didn’t you get our code red?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t understand half of what you were saying.”

The kids all start to argue and Steve joins in, making a remark about how he’s always bugging Dustin to watch for a low battery. More arguing follows. Lucas and the others demand to hear more about the Russians. As you try your best to explain everything, you notice from the corner of your eye El walking away from the group.

Her shoulders are drawn into her body, her breathing seems to be labored. You nudge Jonathan, pulling his attention away from the kids arguing, and point towards El. “What happened to her tonight?”

Jonathan is about to explain what they’ve been dealing with, but when El collapses onto the ground, you leave his side in a heartbeat to join her. Kneeling beside her, you’re cold with panic. She’s covered in sweat, her face is flushed. “El? Sweetheart, what’s happening?”

Mike and Jonathan are beside you now. Mike is in his own fit of panic, nearly ramming into you in his hurry to get to the girl. He turns her over onto her back, his face twisted with worry and fear. “El! What’s wrong?”

The rest of the group stands around El now, staring down at her. She manages to open her eyes, but you can tell that it pains her to do so. “My leg.” She rasps out, voice thick with tears.

“Her leg, okay.” Jonathan takes action, swiftly unraveling a bandage on her leg. You hadn’t noticed it before. There’s a deep wound underneath the gauze, its blood has soaked through it. Nancy helps Jonathan with the bandage, and when they finally get it off, you almost throw up at the sight.

The flesh is raised, angry and swollen. There’s a giant gash in El’s leg, deep and to the bone. The veins in her legs are dark and begin to constrict when something starts to move inside the wound; something is crawling inside her leg. It’s a nauseating sight.

Mike starts to freak out even more. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. He’s scared for the girl, his eyes fill with panic. Instinctively you pull him into your arms, tightening your hold as he fights against it.

That’s when El begins to scream.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #nya #m's writing #if u squint i made the second header image bigger than the first to fit everyone #the bathroom scene haunts me now #wrote it SO MANY TIMES #anyways enjoy

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its-avalon-08 · 10 months ago

Note

Hi. Can you make another social media files pt2 of logan and y/n???????? in this one they are publically simping over eachother and some other actor hits on y/n or logan in their comments and include other driver reaction. thanks alot. love ur work

american boy and his sassy norris pt2

{social media files}

*ೃ༄*ೃ༄*ೃ༄*ೃ༄*ೃ༄*ೃ༄*ೃ༄*ೃ༄*ೃ༄*ೃ*ೃ༄*ೃ༄*ೃ༄*ೃ༄*ೃ

y/nnorris just posted!

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and others

y/nnorris moana inspo

200,456,446 comments

landonorris who goes to paradise without their brother. boo u suck

→ y/nnorris maybe because you don't stop yapping

→ maxfretwell @y/nnorris pls take him away liked by y/nnorris ❤️

oscarpiastri yeah who let u stay in their beachhouse

→ y/nnorris @oscarpiastri girl i'll give u cookies to pay u back, pipe down

jacobelordi woah hottest ever, hit me up xxx

→ y/n&logiebearfanclub uh wtf?

→ letsappenismyfav why is this guy hitting on her

→ maxverstappen1 @landonorris ?????

→ y/n'sbestfriend um wht

logansargeant mine ❤️❤️

→ y/nnorris ilysm logie

→ maxieboy why are they so cute wtffff

alexandrasaintmleux lovelyyyyy girlyy liked by y/nnorris ❤️

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

messages between logansargeant and y/nnorris

logansargeant : omw to kill jacob mf elordi

y/nnorris : bubs ily, pls don't overthink this ok? he's just desperate

logansargeant : no he objectified u love, i'll run him over

y/nnorris : ok lets all breathe, logie ily now pick up the call

incoming call by y/nnorris - accept or decline ?

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

protecting baby norris (groupchat created by maxverstappen1)

charles_leclerc : so we all saw that right?

maxverstappen1 : who is this guy even?

carlossainz : stalked his insta, movies suck

landonorris : he's the fucker who's in euphoria. and who is on my hitlist.

logansargeant : he's dead already.

oscarpiastri : guys breathe what's y/n saying?

logansargeant : she's laughing at him.

maxverstappen1 : LOL

landonorris : calling her now.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

logansargeant and y/nnorris posted a story !

{ caption1 : all mine so back off? , caption2 : my fav jealous boy }

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

logansargeant just posted !

liked by y/nnorris, alexalbon and others

logansargeant forever grateful for u

900,456,446 comments

y/nnorris i love u so much

y/nnorris come over now now now now

→ landonorris u disgust me

→ carlossainz yuccckkkk

alexalbon my brother in christ, u are a simp <3

oscarpookiepie these two istg- i wanna hug them

carlandoooo89 marry eachother lovelies

landonorris you guys are cute ig

→ author and now ur finally supportive

→ y/nnorris what are u doing here?

→ author giving u a happy ending with a lovely brother

→ y/nnorris ok ily ig <3

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

i hope you enjoyed! happy reading <3 do send in more requests! as for pre existing requests- im working on it! lots of love ava

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

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greensagephase · 5 months ago

Text

I hate to make this post, but I must say something. This isn't me trying to be problematic, but I'm just like 🥴 -- it's rubbed me the wrong way.

I received an ask from a silent reader this morning concerning one of my fics, asking when the next chapter is dropping and that they'd like to see a specific thing included in it later on. I've decided not to answer it and I have deleted it to not put the person out there since they weren't anon.

The thing is, I've never seen this person support the fic even by liking the posts/chapters. I've discovered over the last few months that there's people who will read fanworks, but they never engage with the posts in any way, not even by doing the most basic thing you can do to support a writer: leaving a like.

That's fine. You don't have to like, comment, and/or reblog my works.

What's rubbed me the wrong way is that out of curiosity, I've checked this person's blog and see they have no issue engaging with other writers' works from various fandoms, including ATSV.

To the sender, I'm happy that you're supporting fellow writers because there's sooo many talented people on here and they deserve ALL the love and support!!!! And of course, it's your blog and you have a right to support what you want, but to see that you don't engage with my work even by leaving a like is weird when you seem to have no problem engaging with me in other ways, like asking me when the next chapter is dropping and telling me that you'd like to see a concept/trope included in my writing/fic.

Like, my pookie in Christ, the least you can do is leave a like if you're going to be doing things like that 🥴 this isn't me being mean but I hope you understand it feels a little like a slap in the face that you feel comfortable to ask/demand things when you can't take 2 seconds to even double tap my writing posts.

Now, you probably meant to send that anonymously, but forgot to and now we're here. Kindly, if you don't feel comfortable or encouraged to support my writing by even leaving a like for whatever reason you've decided not to, then please apply the same energy when it comes to asking/demanding things of me!🙂

Also, I seriously hope that you're not doing this to other writers anonymously because that's an icky thing to do.

As a friendly reminder, if you enjoy a fic whether it's a drabble, one-shot, or multipart series, or a writer's writing in general, pls let your writers know and support them. If you're not going to support us, at least be respectful.

So, reader, think about this and reflect on it. Have a good day/night.

Alondra❤️

#alondra's answers 🍁

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rrickgrrimes8 · 2 years ago

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Ho, can i just day i love your works! May i request an ellie x miller reader where maybe ellie and the reader get into an argument on the way to jackson and reader is giving ellie the silent treatment. Joel tried to help then resolve it but it doesnt work until they get ambushed by clickers and reader gets lost for a few days or sum. Then ellie and reader make up and kiss!!! Pretty pls

Never Again

summary: what makes a better lovestory than jealousy, clickers and mourning?

Ellie Williams x miller!reader (aged up) — she/her reader. Joel Miller x daughter!reader

warnings: infected, angst, fluff, making out, fluff, arguments, Dina, minor injury, happy ending

masterlist

request guidelines (new)

requests are open

thanks for the request! hope this was what you wanted! ;)

word count: 1.3k

You didn’t know how you even got here.

A small fire dwindled in front of you. Your arms wrapped around your chest, sinking into the feeling your own comfort gave you.

How did this happen?

You were just with them, with Ellie and now this… Now you were on your own, again. You wished you could take it back and you were sure, wherever Ellie was, she would agree too.

How could you let this happen?

“You’re not listening to a word I say,” You hissed, trekking, and struggling up a long flight of stairs.

Joel rolled his eyes, a little further up then the two of you for once – the wish to escape this situation outweighing the ache in his knees.

Ellie scoffed, “I listen! I am listening! You’re not even telling me what I did wrong!”

“Christ, Ellie, that’s the problem,” You huffed, turning to face her, “You don’t understand why I’m upset with you.”

The girl’s eyes soften, frowning when she saw your tears, “Tell me then.”

You shook your head, biting your lip, “You flinched, Ellie.”

“What?” She almost laughed.

Joel looked back at this point, stopping to catch his breath but instead getting a front row view of your argument. “Back in Jackson… you and Dina were talking. I came up to you. I held your hand and you fucking flinch.”

“So?” She rolled her eyes, “What does that even matter?”

“It matters b-because of her,” You spat, “Its always her, Ellie.”

Ellie huffed a laugh, shooting a look at Joel, who was not impressed, “Can you believe this? She’s fucking jealous.”

“Ellie,” He warned.

“I’m not jealous, Ellie,” You defended weakly, “I shouldn’t have to be! You’re my girlfriend, not D-Dina’s.”

“I know!” She yelled, patient growing thin, “I know! Christ…”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” You suppressed your tears.

“Get what?” She chortled, “That you’re jealous? And acting ridiculous?”

“Ridiculous?” You repeated, “You think I’m being ridiculous?”

“Yes!” Her eyes blew wide, hands emphasizing her anger.

You gulped, “Maybe if I’m being so ‘ridiculous’ you can got stay with Dina when we get back. What about that, huh? How’s that for ridiculous?”

“What?” She glanced at Joel again, this time more for help than out of amusement, “That’s not what I want.”

“Oh really?” You ignored your father, who warned you to stop, “Because that sounds like exactly what you want! You fucking flinched, Ellie!”

“So what?” She screamed, hands running over her tied back hair.

“So what?!” You exasperated, “You’re my girlfriend and all I can think about is how you want to be hers. And I mean why wouldn’t you want to be… I’m fucked. And don’t deny it, Ellie, I know, my dad knows. And one day, sooner or later you’re going to know. And you’ll end up with her... It will always be her…”

Ellie sucked in a harsh breath; you name falling from her cracked lips.

“Leave it,” You mumbled, pushing passed your dad, who watched you carefully and with concern, “Let’s just get on with it.”

Joel cursed as you stormed ahead of them, turning to Ellie with a scolding look, “Fix it.”

Ellie nodded, shakily, guilt forming in her gut, “How?”

But Joel didn’t have time to respond. Your scream echoed down the stairwell. The pair yelled your name but all they were met with was infected, clickers, dozens, and dozens of them. They lost sight of you entirely – fearing the worst.

The rest was a blur, you thought. You couldn’t remember how many you killed or how you got out of the building, how you even survived. But you ended up here, uninjured, cold, and alone.

You cursed yourself. Because it was your fault. You picked the fight. You let your jealousy get the better of you. You ran ahead.

And now Ellie and your dad, well, they could be anywhere.

That was the scariest feeling in the whole world.

“She’s not here.” Tommy’s words echoed around Ellies mind.

Her and Joel, somehow, had gotten back her in one piece. Maybe because they had tricked themselves into thinking you would’ve beaten them back – that fueling their energy. But you hadn’t.

“She’s not here.”

Joel’s face switched. His eyes felt so far away. Unshed tears lining them. He looked at Ellie as if she was a stranger. Like it was her fault.

Ellie broke down straight away. She wanted to feel embarrassed about it, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be.

You weren’t here. You weren’t home. You weren’t anywhere.

Joel refused to leave the wall. He told them that they didn’t know anything, that they didn’t know you. That you would be back, you always did. You were Joel Miller’s girl after all.

Ellie locked herself into the room you shared. She hugged your pillow to her chest, her aching burning chest.

This wasn’t right.

First her mom.

Then Riley.

Then Tess.

Sam.

Henry.

Not you. Never you.

This couldn’t be how she lost you. You had been through too much for it just to amount to this. For it to amount to nothing.

She couldn’t stop crying. She feared she never would.

All she needed was you.

It took you three days to get back to Jackson. The weather, the infected and a hurt ankle that you had gotten on the way slowed you down tremendously.

You almost cried as you saw the gates. You picked up your speed, sprinting back home now, neglecting your limp.

A horse met you halfway. Joel cried when he saw you, alive. He knew it. He goddamn knew it.

He had never moved so fast in his life. He dismounted the horse and sprinted the short distance to you.

“Babygirl,” He pulled you into his chest, holding you like a porcelain doll.

“Dad,” You beamed, wrapping your arms around him.

“I knew it, baby, I knew you’d make it back,” Joel told you.

You nodded against him, tiredly.

“You okay?”

You pulled away from him, “Fine, jus’ my ankle.” He stared down at it, blood soaking through a makeshift bandage you had tied.

“It’s not-“

“No,” You calmed him, “Snagged it on some barbed wire – wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He nodded, taking in your features, your everything and pressed a kiss against your forehead, “C’mon… someone owes you an apology.”

You chuckled, accepting his help getting on the horse, “She okay?”

He scoffed, “Without you, no.”

Yours and Ellies door was closed when you got back home. You never thought it would look so daunting, until now. A closed door with you on the other side, with Ellie feeling so far away.

You slowed your breathing, limping until you were face-to-face with it. A sighed escaped your lips as you shakily knocked. No movement, no noise. Complete silence.

You frowned, knocking again, harder. You were met with the same.

Your hand found its way to the handle, hating how grating the noise it made was.

Ellie was motionless on the bed. Her body was molded around your pillow, tear stains becoming at once its new style. “E-Ellie,” You breathed out.

She jumped, head shooting up in your direction. Ellie cried out your name, urging you to rush to her. Her arms abandoned your pillow and made their home back on your body, on your skin.

“I’m sorry, fuck I’m sorry,” She sobbed, grip tightening, “I love you. I’m sorry.”

You smiled, kissing her shaking hands sweetly, “Its okay, Ellie. I’m sorry too.”

She shook her head, pulling you closer, as if that was possible, “You were gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I heard your scream,” She croaked, “I thought… not you. Not you…”

“I’m here,” You whispered, kissing up her neck, “I’m here, baby.” Ellie nodded at your words, accepting your love graciously.

Kissing along her jaw, you finally found her lips. They moved in sync, performing a dance you both knew well but at the same time the tone was different.

Ellie was more desperate. Angrier. Sadder.

You kissed her, nevertheless. Hoping to fight away those feelings.

Ellie smiled against your lips, pulling apart hesitantly. “Never go again,” She whispered, forehead falling against you, “I couldn’t bear it.”

“Never,” You told her, “Never again.”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x miller!reader #joel miller x daughter!reader #joel miller angst #ellie williams x you #bella ramsey x you #the last of us imagine

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humongousgothskeletonfarm · 5 days ago

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TGR CHAPTER 22 THOUGHTS

and spoilers!!!

GUYS I THINK THIS IS THE LAST POST I JUST WANTED TO SAY IM GLAD THEY WERE SUCH A HIT AND U ALL LIKED THEM I RLLY THOUGHT IT WOULD BE SOMETHING THAT ONLY I WOULD SEE BUT IM HAPPY UR ENJOYING MY RAMBLING AND STUPID COMMENTS

- THEAS HERE???

- HOLY FUCK GUYS ANDREWS LETTING AARON DRIVE HIS CAR THIS IS CRAZY OMFG WHAT A DEVELOPMENT ARE WE ALL EXCUTED ABOUT THIS PROGRESS????

- NEIL CAUSING DRAMA FOR THEA AND NOT GIVING A SINGLE FUCK ABOUT EXPOSING THE FACT THAT THIS IS HER SECOND VISIT TO THEM IS SO FUNNY HES SOOOOO UNSERIOUS HE LEGIT JUST DIPS OUT LEAVING A TRAIL OF CHAOS BEHIND HIM

- “Not her first visit to the Foxhole Court,” the reporter guessed. “The court? Unknown.” Neil gave a careless shrug he immediately and obviously regretted.

THIS DAMN NEAR SENT ME INTO HYSTERICS HIS NUMBER ONE HOBBY WAS NEVER EXY IT WAS ALWAYS FUCKING WITH REPORTERS THATS HIS TRUE LIFE CALLING

- good lord i fucking despite jeremy’s family. i hope he can get out of there soon i rlly do

fuck u warren

- cat and jeans matching bikes i love them😭

- jean being so proud of his bike is everything and so is jeremy saying “Jean was more interesting by far.”

- JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ANOTHER RAVEN IS DEAD. this is actually just sad.

- ANOTHER TWO? one of them being cody’s cousin which icl i completely forgot about BUT WHAT WHY TF WAS NOBODY KEEPING AN EYE ON THEM

- laila riding a motorcycle to get to jeremy coz he needed her :(

- “She was saying something about loosening every screw on Bryson’s desk and chair.” CATALINA ALVAREZ PLS MARRY ME UR SO FUNNY AND COOL IM SO IN LOVE WITH U

nora if ur listening i am currently requesting a neil, jean, cat teamup. they could be unstoppable!

-“But I will choose you every time. You, and Cat, and Laila, every time. I will lose them all if I must.” GUYSSSSSS DONT PLAY WITH ME RN THIS MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME. JEREMYS HEART JUST EXPLODED BTW IDK IF YALL CAUGHT THAT

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

- istg, nora making jean ride a motorcycle was one of her best decisions. i never would’ve expected it and i love it. i wish i was as cool as jean

- oh ew that’s so fucking disgusting. poor lyle.

- “Some of it… It was very long and very boring.” — me when i’m asked if a read the terms and conditions to literally anything

(sorry, now isn’t the time or place to be joking)

- “It is hideous, but it is better than wearing black.” ohhhhh he’s SO bold now,, i remember a time when jean moreau would’ve never dared to every think that let alone tell a raven that. he’s progressed so much 😭

- “Thank you for visiting. It is a rare treat to see Jeremy happy.” guys stop i love william actually he’s an honorary member of the group now

- “If she doesn’t know you enough to trust you now, she never will.” “You don’t know that.”

he said what he said, clock it jean! nah in actuality this shit is so sad poor jere constantly fighting for his mothers approval, going along with her demands to please her rather than doing what’s best for him. he keeps trying, keeps pushing himself for a shred of her love :(

- jean 🤝 neil: having the most boring fucking favourite colours

(i can’t judge i always say black)

- “Brown like the gaze that sought Jean out in every room, but that last thought wasn’t one he could linger on.” KICKING MY FEET RN GUYS

- the daffodil artwork :(

- jean brushing his fingers through lailas hair because he knows it is a sign of affection between the girls and he knows laila needs some comfort. when will nora stop inflicting this pain upon me

- TANNER IS JEANS DUCKLING

- “He slowly separated her hair into sections. It’d been years since he’d done this for Elodie; he could barely remember how it was supposed to go. He tried and failed and tried again, until he got far enough to understand what he was doing.” DO I HIGHLIGHT THIS YELLOW FOR HAPPY AND SWEET SCENES OR BLUE FOR MADLY DEPRESSING SHIT????

- “But the braid in his hand was a rope back to sunlight and solid ground” they’re his safe place :(

- “She prayed for a dragon to save her.” Laila’s tone was gentle, like she thought he’d retreat if she spoke too loudly. “Not a prince?” “A dragon could tear our house apart to free her and carry her far away.” OH NORA STOP UR JUST TORTURING ME AT THIS POINT LET ME LIVEEE

- “He had a feeling he knew the answer, but it worth a try anyway: “Peaches are trees?” Her nod had him grumbling discontent into his water” bruh he’s so fucking cute i wanna squish his face

- what’s the bet that now that jean has agreed to a dog, the dog they end up getting loves jean the most out of all of them (jean will slowly warm up to it)

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR!!!!!

- “You don’t even have a bed yet,” Jean complained. “I have a face she can—” you have a what sorry cat??? i think u got cut off at the end there

- jeremy being so excited for the dog is fucking adorable

- JEAN HAVING A STARING COMPETITION WITH A DOG, LOSING, AND THEN RESORTING TO TELLING THE DOG HE DOESNT SEE THE APPEAL IN HIM IS SO HILARIOUS HES SUCH A BITCH

HES FULLY BEEFING WITH A GERIATRIC DOG RN CALLING IT OUT FOR ITS HYGIENE AND GETTING OFFENDED FHAT IT MIGHT UNDERSTAND FRENCH

NOW HES TELL THE DOG ITS PARENTS ABANDONED IT

“Maybe it perfectly timed its own to his and that was why he always missed it.” i think this is paranoia jean, the conspiracy theories r a step too far

“Jean stared it down, refusing to lose to a beast he could easily shove inside his backpack. He lost” genuinely might have to be the funniest part of the whole book

- Jean v Rex the saga continues: jean bullies rex over his name. jean is clearly more affected as rex is a dog and cannot understand english. “He is not a dinosaur”

- “studying Jean’s face like the secret to the universe was just out of reach.” oh!

- “He’s asleep.” “He’s faking it,” Jean said. “He likes you,” WHAT DID I TELL U

- “We do not,” Jean corrected him, but both men ignored him.” jean getting ignored by dogs and humans alike today

- “He almost asked, then decided he didn’t need to give the impression he cared.” yessss jean! ur so nonchalant rn i promise.

- “Embrace fatherhood.” nothing to say just that this whole chapter had me so delighted. a very welcome tone change from everything else that had just happened

- “Not for me, Jean warned himself, but for one moment, just this moment, he would let himself pretend.” AHHHHHH GUYSSSS ITS HAPPENINGGGGGGG

AND THATS A WRAP GUYS WTF THANK U FOR JOINING ME ON THIS JOURNEY I HOPE U HAD FUN. THE BOOK WAS GREAT THANK U MS NORA SAKAVIC AS ALWAYS. ILL SEE U ALL AGAIN WHEN BOOK THREE IS OUT!!! IM GONNA GO READ SOME FANFIC NOW

#in class form i fell asleep before posting this so it’s a bit late #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #neil josten #andrew minyard #the sunshine court #tsc #nora sakavic #jean moreau #jeremy knox #the golden raven #tgr #aftg tgr #tgr spoilers #laila dermott #catalina alvarez #the trojans

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cscorvid · 1 month ago

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Soap | Taste of Heaven

NSFW One shot. Afab!reader.

Pretty vanilla, pierced cock, lots of praise.

All art credits go to their respective creators

The sheets seemed like the perfect choice, now that the soft material were tangled in your fingers that clenched them in white as your chest rose and fell which each breath.

Johnny’s lips found your kiss swollen ones once more before he pulled away, once more. His muscular form dipping down, his tongue running up the small sliver of skin between the waistband of your pants and your belly button. His nose pushing up your shirt, as he keeps moving upward, planting open mouth kisses right up your torso.

A groan came from him, “Fuck, yer perfect.”

His calloused hands ran up from your thighs to push whatever clothing you had covering your torso off. His tongue flicking over one of your pebbled nipples, a rough yet feathering finger circled the other.

Every small sound and move you made, spurred him on further. Johnny didn’t even try to hide the fact he was rutting against the bed as his kept worshipping your body, his mouth leaving your nipples to trail up once more. Hungry, sloppy kisses planted over your collarbone.

As he moved up, his hands dropped to your hips, his own coming flush against yours. Grinding through both of yours clothes, pulling soft groans from him as his lips moved up the side of your neck. He kept planting the kisses up his lips grazed your ear.

"Ach, I need tae fook ye, Mo sheòid. I need tae feel the way ye wrap 'round me, the way ye squeeze me tight, screamin' ma name. Christ-" he groaned low, his breath hot and ragged in your ear, his hips grinding desperately against yours. "Fuckin' hell, lass, I'm gonna cum in ma pants if ye dinnae let me have ye. Please, Y/N, I'll dae anythin' ye want."

A gasp came from her at the rugged groan in her ear, her body instinctually arching up into his body. “Oh…Johnny.”

The way his name fell from your lips, made his hips buck against yours as a hand tangled into your hair and pulled your head back. “Please, Y/N,…pl-“

“John MacTavish if you don’t shut up and fuck me already.” She interrupted him, her tone made it rather firm that it was a command. Not a question. Not a suggestion. And Johnny? Was more than happy to obey this command.

His fingers tore into the fabric of her jeans, ripping them off her body. He placed a kiss to her clit, over her panties, before tearing the cotton material off with his teeth.

As soon as she was exposed to him, his face buried straight into her core. His edged cock pushed to the back of his mind, for just a mere taste of your nectar. Nipping at her clit before soothing it with his tongue.

His arms hooked around her hips and pulled her closer, and held her spread open for him. Her moans, her gasps, the twitching, the squirming. Only made him feast like a man dying of starvation. The wet sounds coming from the way his skilled tongue worked over her.

“Oh God…Johnny..” She trailed off as a moan was pulled from her. A hand traveling over her breast and down her abdomen before tangling into his hair, the brown locks sticking through in patches in her clenched hand as she pulls his hair.

A moaned against her clit as she pulled his hair, letting go off one leg, his middle finger pushing into her tight hole. Another moan coming from him as he felt the way she immediately clamped around his finger.

“Fuck, look at how you respond to me. You’re going to milk me dry like a good girl with the way you’re clenching my fingers, Bonnie.” He murmured, before he went back to feasting on her clit, slowly adding in a second finger into her. His fingers and tongue working in tangent with each other. Her noises of pleasure rolling past those swollen lips as her walls flutter against his fingers.

Her own hand tightened in his hair as she felt that familiar heat in her lower stomach. The way he held her so close to him, the feeling of his finger rolling over her G-spot, how his tongue felt on her clit, the way his pupils were blown feral with lust.

As much as she tried to prolong it, her orgasm rolled over her like a wave on the beach. Her legs snapped tight around his head, her hand pulled at his hair, while the other yanked at the sheets.

“Fuck!” the word rolling off in a choked scream.

Johnny’s hands had snaked under your legs to hold you’d hips, as he eagerly lapped up the juices coming from your pulsating pussy. Groaning as he pushed his tongue deeper into her, his hips softly jerking against the bed.

He continued to feast on her as they rode out her orgasm. Her legs trembled as they relaxed against his head slowly, freeing him from his locked position. Half lidded eyes on him as he pulled away.

Her eyes focusing on the way his chest physically moved with each rugged breath of his. The way his dog tags gleamed in the light, until her eyes landed on a wet spot on the front of his pants. Eyes widened in surprise before her eyes flicked up to his.

“Did you-?” She started but trailed off unsure of how to even word a question like that.

“Did I cum my pants because I got to taste your cum on my tongue?” He asked in a husky voice, her essences still glistening on his lips, as he pulled off his shirt. Walking to her, watching her softly nod to his question. “Yes I did. Because you taste like heaven.”

As he undid his belt with one hand, he leaned in and caught her lips in a kiss, shoving his tongue roughly into her mouth. She moaned into the kiss as she tasted herself on his tongue. Johnny groaned into the kiss as he finally free’d his cock, even though he had already finished once, he was still hard as a rock.

He softly rocked his hips against hers, and that’s when Y/N realized, he was pierced. And, maybe it was just the lust clouding your brain, but it made you clench around nothing.

One of his hands moved to line himself up, the other rested around your throat. Leaning in to capture your lips into kiss as he slowly pushes into you. Your moans were swallowed greedily by him, as you felt every inch of his cock stretch you open, could feel the way each piercing pushed into you.

“Oh, Fuck,” he groaned once he had full seated himself inside of you. Gently grinding his hips against yours to keep from moving, allowing you time to adjust to his size. “This is fucking heaven.”

His lips trailed kisses down your neck as he slowly began to thrust. His hand tangling into your hair, pulling your head back, as he softly bit the column of your throat, his tongue flicking over the bite mark to sooth the sting.

His pace picks up into something faster, your moans were a siren song to his ears, and he was more than willing to let you pull him under your spell.

“You’re fucking perfect. You feel so good, Mo sheòid, you’re clenching me like a forbidden vice.” His lips travelled over your collarbone. “So beautiful, so responsive, so fucking perfect.”

His thrust were rough and harsh yet controlled. You can feel each pleasurable thrust as his tip rams into that sweet spot that makes you see stars, the piercings adding texture along your clenching walls.

“John-Johnny…I’m…fuck…” you barely got out between moans. That heat building in your lower regions.

“Cum on my cock, Y/N. Please, oh fuck, please let me feel you cum on my cock.” He groaned, as his hands tightened on your hips. His words slowly turning into a desperate beg,“Please, gods, please.”

Hearing him start to beg, it pushed you over the edge, hearing him groan as yours walls clench around his cock. His thrust becoming sloppy before he hilted himself balls deep as he finished. His hips jerking against yours as you both breath heavy.

Taking a moment to come down from the high of their conjoined climax. Johnny slowly pulled out of her, careful of the piercings, his cock finally coming free with an audible pop. His blue eyes glued to the trail of cum that was leaking out of you. It made his soft cock twitch, quickly he shook his head away from those thoughts and looked back up at your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, as he crawled over top of you, not in a sexual way this time, but in an affectionate way. As his eyes traveled over your disheveled form. His eyes locking onto yours with eyes that moment before had been filled with dark desire now filled with a soft love.

“Yeah I’m okay,” you say with a hoarse voice. “That was great, Johnny.”

He hums a response before pressing a soft loving kiss to your lips. Moving to settle against your side and pulling you close to him, tangling your legs together, as one hand trails up and down your spine in a loving way. His other hand came to cup the side of your face, his finger tips tangling into the hairs on the nape of your neck.

“I love you,” he murmured as he buried his face into your hair. “You are my heaven.”

This is my first time writing here. I’d love to hear any comments, thoughts, feedback.

#mdni blog #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap smut #soap cod #soap x you #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish smut #soap mactavish smut

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fettuccin-e · 2 years ago

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The Wonderful Way Things Change

A/N: hi there everyone... shamefully, very shamefully, I have not posted anything original since i think like february. it was an unplanned hiatus! promise it was completely unplanned, this semester just really kicked my ass lol. BUT HERE WE ARE! with matt smut of course how could I not because he is the loml so please enjoy! love you!

Description: Based off this ask, and can be read as a loose sequel to this (my first ever fanfic oh boy oh boy). In which Foggy calls you to check in on Matt, and the sight of your boyfriend all disheveled in a suit is making you a tad desperate. Thankfully, neither of you have the self-control to keep your hands to yourselves.

Tags: Matt Murdock x Reader, afab!fem!reader, no use of y/n, smut like so much smut who do you think I am, fucking Matty in a suit, oral (f!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids) (w/c: 2.5K)

Yours and Matt’s relationship is new, somewhat, but you both know that it’s been a long time coming. It’s only been a few weeks since he finally kissed you for the first time, since he healed your poor, pining heart. It’s not like other relationships you’ve had, with the talking stage at the beginning, where you’re still asking each other about your childhoods, favorite movies, and songs. You and Matt already know everything about each other.

He knows about your shitty job that you hate but manages to pay the bills. He knows all about your childhood, all of your hopes and dreams. Up until a few weeks ago, the only secret you’d kept from him was your frankly ridiculous crush on him.

But you know that it’s the same way for him. You already know about Daredevil, and to Matt’s unending surprise, you accept him, love him for who he is. You don’t want him to give up either side of himself; you’re happy to just have him. Matt is still trying to get used to the feeling of actually having you, instead of just being by your side, letting you slip through his fingers.

Up until a few weeks ago, Matt had resigned himself to only being your friend. The friendship he’d found in you at Columbia would remain just that. Unbeknownst to him, you’d resigned yourself the exact same way. But a misunderstanding and a frustrated and ridiculously dramatic love confession later, you’d finally kissed him like he’d only dreamed of. You’d allowed him to touch you like he’d always wanted, and Matt could swear that he’s never felt anything softer, never tasted anything sweeter than you.

So the relationship is new, but it also feels like you and Matt have just been waiting, settling into routines like you’ve been together for years. You know how Matt is, how he’ll bury himself into cases and recordings and court documents, searching for that one bit of evidence that proves his client is innocent. He sends Foggy and Karen home on nights like these, insisting that they need to sleep, that they work too hard as is.

“He’s gonna be there for hours,” Foggy tells you over the phone. “You’ve gotta get him out of there or he’s going to collapse.” You laugh, pulling on your coat and stepping out of Matt’s apartment.

Ever since you had both confessed your feelings for each other, and Matt had finally, finally taken you to bed, you had more or less moved in. It hadn’t been intentional, nor had Matt officially asked you, but the one time you had broached the subject of maybe sleeping at your own apartment, Matt’s arms had wrapped around you, holding you to him while he pressed desperate kisses all over your face and neck, telling you that his apartment was so cold without you there.

“C’mon, sweetheart, haven’t we spent more than enough time apart?” he had murmured, and you had agreed.

“Yeah, alright Fog, I’m heading over there now. I’ll make sure you have a well-rested partner by tomorrow,” you giggle into the phone, and you laughed even harder at Foggy’s genuine sigh of relief.

“Christ, how did Nelson, Murdock and Page survive without you and Matt together?”

“It’s truly a mystery, Foggy,” you tease, and Foggy laughs with you. He keeps you on the phone the entire walk to their office building, filling you in on the cases he, Karen, and Matt are working on. You could talk to Foggy for hours, really, but he lets you go as you walk up the steps to their offices. With a promise to talk soon, maybe take a trip to Josie’s, you hang up, shoving your phone into your coat pocket.

You can hear the recording Matt is listening to through the door to his office, some judge droning on and on. You enter the room quietly, heart beating wildly at Matt in his sharp suit, without his glasses, hair mussed from his fingers running through it the way they usually do when he’s working through a case. You watch as a smile blooms across his pretty lips, his eyes lifting to your direction as he pauses the recording.

“Hi, baby,” he says, and his sheer beauty in that moment nearly brings you to your knees. This man, with his hair sticking up in every direction, his tie slightly loosened at his chest, big brown eyes and wide smile is yours. All yours. You can’t help how your heart beats even harder at the thought.

You watch his grin meld into a knowing smirk as he listens to the quick pattering of your heartbeat. “Something got you worked up, sweetheart?”

You hum, crossing the room to where he sits in his office chair. “Oh, you know,” you drawl, trying to keep your voice coy and light, even though you know that your heart is giving away your sudden desperation for the man in front of you. “I’m just thinking about all of the things I get to do now.”

“To me?” He’s playing coy too, trying to goad you.

“Always to you, Matty,” you giggle, and he chuckles in return. You swing a leg over his lap, straddling him and relishing in how his chuckle morphs into a choked gasp.

“What- What kinds of things, gorgeous?” his voice is breathier now, beautifully affected by your actions.

“Just how I can do things like this,” you wrap your hand into his tie, tugging him towards your mouth. “And things like this-” you breathe over his mouth, before capturing his pretty, enticing lips with your own.

Matt groans into the kiss, smoothing his hands over your hips before reaching behind you to grab your ass in his big, thick hands, tugging you further up his lap. Your clothed pussy rests just over the bulge of his cock through his slacks, and you can feel it thickening beneath you.

“And you call me worked up, Matty?” you murmur against his mouth, wiggling in his lap and pulling a soft moan from his lips.

“When my gorgeous girlfriend walks into my office, smelling like my apartment and so fucking soft on top of me,” he says, squeezing your ass again, “how can you expect me to be calm, baby?”

Your stomach bursts into butterflies at the title. You’re his girlfriend. He’s your boyfriend. It feels so very juvenile, like you’re twenty years old again and still trying to get through calculus class. Maybe it’s because you’ve been waiting that long. Waiting for him, since you first met him and Foggy at Columbia. It feels so far away now, so different, and yet, you still burn bright and warm with Matt’s attention on you. Calling you his girlfriend.

He shifts his hips under yours, the bulge of his thick cock against your pussy impossible to ignore, and you whine, just barely, but Matt hears. Of course he does.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “So fucking needy.” He lurches forward again to press his lips to yours, licking into your mouth.

“Please, Matty,” you whisper, and he groans into your mouth all over again. He doesn’t separate his mouth from yours as he lifts you against him, using a hand to brush the cumbersome documents and files off the desk behind you, before laying you softly against it, running his hands over your waist and kissing you like you’re something precious.

But you are, Matt knows that you are the most precious thing in the fucking world. And you want him. Matt can hardly believe it sometimes; he still sometimes thinks he’s dreaming when he feels you in the morning, pressed tight against him, your heart calm and steady with sleep.

He licks into your mouth like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and what a way to go. He could stay in this moment forever, kissing you while your hands tangle into his hair. But your sexy little whines are echoing around him, your hips moving in desperate little circles against the aching bulge in his slacks.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispers, and you just whine louder. It’s a nearly painful thing, taking his lips from yours, but he can fucking smell your arousal, and the need to dive between your thighs is suddenly too much for him to handle.

You kind of want to cry when Matt breaks your kiss, but your mourning at the loss of his lips is quickly cut short by his thick, calloused hands pushing your skirt up your thighs, leaving the material to bunch around your waist. He nudges his nose against your clit through your panties, taking a deep breath in through his nose, savoring it, and you nearly black out.

“Oh- oh my God,” you stutter, and Matt smirks in that ridiculously cocky way you hate that you love.

“I mean, I go by Matt, but if you want to call me God-” Matt starts, tugging your panties down your legs.

“Matthew Michael Murdock, I swear-” You want to continue, you really do, but it’s really hard to keep your train of thought when Matt is leaning down and licking a long stripe up your soaked pussy, swirling around your clit and making your hips buck up uncontrollably. He quickly braces a forearm over your twitching body, holding you still with his strength while he eats your pretty cunt.

“So fucking wet for me, gorgeous,” he mutters between your thighs, the vibrations feeling like shockwaves up your spine. “So pretty, baby, could’ve been eating this pretty cunt since college.”

You can barely form a sentence, only able to utter out whines of Matt, Matt Matt, between desperate moans as he licks into you. You can feel him grinning into your cunt, knowing he’s driving you fucking crazy, before he’s drawing up to capture your throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks. He brings his free hand up to sink a thick finger into your needy entrance, crooking it up and pressing into a spot inside that makes white creep into the edges of your vision. He just sucks and sucks, swirling his tongue around our achy clit and playing with you like a toy.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, unexpected and brutal, and you would have thrashed off the desk if it weren’t for Matt’s strong arms holding you steady. He carries you through it, licking at you softly while he keeps his finger inside, giving your pussy something to clutch onto. As your hips finally stop twitching, Matt rises, leaning over you again, and you can’t help but tug at his tie again, dragging his mouth to yours, uncaring of the taste of your pussy covering his lips.

“Please fuck me, Matty, oh god, please. Need you in me, baby,” you whine, and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how needy you sound. Matt groans, sounding just as desperate as he licks into your mouth. He takes his hands from your body to reach down, undoing his belt and slacks just enough to tug his aching cock out. He’s so hard it’s nearly painful, the head sticky and red and throbbing with the need to fuck you. To claim you.

You wrap your arms over his back, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as he sinks into your sensitive pussy. As he finally bottoms out, you lean back to look at him, at his big eyes staring just off your face, his mouth slightly agape.

“I thought about this, y’know,” you whisper, your nails digging into his back as he presses just a bit deeper inside. “Every time I brought you guys lunch, I-” you moan softly as Matt thrusts, hard and so fucking deep you swear you swear you can feel him in your guts. “I thought about you, fucking me on this desk, in-in this fucking suit, god, Matt.”

“Shit, baby,” he grunts, rocking into you so hard the desk rattles beneath you. You can barely pay attention to it, not when the tip of Matt’s thick cock is grinding into the spot inside you that makes you scream, your nails digging into the soft fabric covering his back. “I thought about you too, god, you have no idea, sweetheart.” You can only whine in response as he continues, “You’d bring us all lunch, wearing your little uniform, fuck, with that pretty skirt and those heels.”

Matt’s hands tighten over your hips, forcing you to meet him thrust for thrust, and it’s so fucking good. You can’t manage to answer him through your desperate whines of his name and choked moans as his thick cock stretches you out for him, but Matt’s still talking. You don’t know if he can stop.

“I could hear your thighs brushing together under that tight fucking skirt, your heels clicking up the hall, and all I could think about was ruining you. Ripping that skirt off you and making you beg for my cock,” he grunts, driving desperately into your soaked pussy. Your head is swimming, drowning in Matt’s words, his scent, his cock.

“Now I can, baby,” he grunts, voice breaking on a choked moan. “I can fuck you just how I’ve wanted, make this pretty pussy soak my cock. Can wake up to you in my bed, fuck you whenever I want, whenever you want, baby, fuck I’m yours. You hear me, angel? I’m yours.” Matt can feel your pussy fluttering desperately around his cock, and snakes a hand between your bodies to press a thumb over your clit.

He leans over you, his tie loose and dangling over your face as he growls, “and you’re mine. Mine.”

And you’re gone, pussy tightening like a vice around Matt’s thick cock, screaming his name. Little tears escape your eyes, dripping down your cheeks as Matt groans your name in return, hips stuttering into yours and flooding your overwhelmed pussy with his cum. You can hear him, just barely, through the roar of blood in your ears as he whispers, “So good, baby, so perfect. Love you so much, so much, you have no idea. I love you, loved you for so fucking long, angel.”

You bring your hands up to tangle your fingers into his soft hair, bringing him to your lips, whispering a soft “I love you so much, Matty,” in return before meeting him in a soft kiss. His smile against your mouth is blinding, endlessly joyful, and slightly delirious.

He’s still buried inside you a few minutes later, when you finally whisper, “I’m not sure this is what Foggy had in mind when he sent me over here.”

“If this is what Foggy had in mind, I might have to send him a fruit basket, or buy him a round,” Matt chuckles, and you smack him lightly on the shoulder before you’re laughing too. Matt smiles, unable to believe that you’re his, before he cuts your giggling off with a loving kiss.

#hey I'm back #with daredevil smut #what else did you expect #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock smut #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil fanfiction

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tomriddlehyperfixataion · 1 year ago

Text

Tom Riddle x reader - The bet.

Modernish? Au? one of those -son of Voldemort Tom's that has Mattheo as a brother n stuffs like that-none of thats important to the fic i just wanted to put that up so them having phones makes sense, also they have charmed phones so they work within hogwarts. :p

starts off with texts messages --(two dashes) with italics for (y/n) and -(one dash) and bold for Tom.

It was a stupid bet, one that Tom was already regretting even thought it hadn't started yet. it all started with his girlfriend (y/n) being cheeky while she was supposed to be in class and asking for a bloody abs picture from him while he was trying to study.

--hey tommy~?

Tom didn't know why he didn't put on the 'do not disturb' feature on when he was studying, because (y/n) always bugged him when he studied. he picked up his phone that had vibrated when he got a text and saw what his girlfriend texted him, he quickly sent a reply back and then set his phone back down.

-What is it this time (y/n)? -Did you get detention, again? -I'm not getting you out of it this time.

(y/n) replied quickly, which told Tom she wasnt paying attention at all while she was supposed to be in charms class.

--nooo that was one time tommy --okay maybe two times --okay three....five times --whatevs thats not what im texting u for --do you think you could to me a favors? ill return it?

Now Tom was, slightly(emphasis on slightly) intrigued, sighing as he picked his phone back up after reading the texts as they came in and messing (y/n) back.

-What is it (y/n)?

(y/n) replied almost instantly, which made Tom annoyed because merlin's beard she was in class!!

--ab pic? plssss???

-...Are you actually serious?? Did you just text me to ask me for an ab picture?

--yes. pls? ill send something back? pls? pls pls pls? all the other girls get ab pics from their boys? and you've got a baaaady bb~

-No.

--plsss?

-(y/n) I'm busy.

--does that mean 'im busy so ill send one later' orrrrr

-(y/n).

--Tommy.

Tom sighed, setting his phone down, willing himself back to studying, but curiosity had him picking his phone back up and typing a response.

-Why do you even want an ab pic?

--cuz

-That's not an answer (y/n).

--plllllllls tommy? ill send you something back i stg

Tom's interest was once again piqued, his brow raising. she would...send something back?

-And I'm supposed to take your word for that?

-bet

Tom scrambled to catch his phone when another message was sent from his girlfriend, except it wasn't a text, it was a photo. Of her in nothing but his jumper, sitting in front of mirror, the jumper pulled up above her chest to show off her body that got him feeling feral, her face just barely obscured in the photo-but he could see her tantalizing smirk that always had him going nuts.

He quickly got a handle on his phone and texted (y/n) back with a clench in his jaw.

-CHRIST (y/n)!!! -You're in class!!!

--and you, aren't~! --enjoy bb~ now about that ab pic?

He was blushing for sure, his face hot and red and he felt his trousers get tight. He shuffled in his seat, running his hand through his hair. He thought about it for a hot moment before he groaned and stood up, going into his bathroom and turning the light on.

He texted (y/n) one last time before pulling his button-up off and snapping a picture of his upper body. He wasn't really built like Draco or his brother Mattheo was, he wasn't a quidditch player, but he did have defined muscles and (y/n) liked them, so that was fine.

-ffs fine. -photo sent.

-Happy?

--👀👀🥵😍💞🥰👌👌👌👌👌👌

Tom let out a soft snort, leaning against the wall of his bathroom, holding his shirt in his hand as he looked down at (y/n)'s message. Yep, she was happy. he looked back at the photo she had sent him and swallowed, the flush in his face returning as a spark went down his spine, looking at the way her chest was pushed out, her breasts soft and round and such a perfect size for him. her thighs looked bloody gorgeous as well, he wanted to sink his teeth into them again, seeing in the picture some of his previous marks on her skin.

"Fuck," Tom muttered, his head hitting the wall as he closed his eyes and tipped his head back, his hand falling to smack against his thigh. This girl was going to be the death of him.

he got another message and if he wasn't already flustered, he sure was now because he pulled his phone up so quick. yeah-(y/n) was going to be the death of him.

--thnk u bb~ i can just imagine ur face rn, all red n flustered~ --🥰😂

Tom huffed, rolling his eyes, throwing his shirt onto the sink counter and messaging his girlfriend back(honestly how he had even gotten one was a mystery to not just him, but to all his little 'friend' group.)

-You're a menace. -Your imagination does too many favors for you.

i mean, she was right-his face was all flushed and he definitely was flustered, plus he had a bloody hard on thanks to that hoodie picture; but did she need to know that? Nope.

--oh LOADS --like imagining what you would sound like whimpering for me --thats always a good daydream for me 😈🥵🤪

Tom flushed again, puffing his cheeks too. Whimper? Him? Never.

-I Don't whimper. Not for anyone. -Not even you.

Tom huffed through his nose, his cheeks flushing still as his own imagination began to wander off. but he was brought back to reality when he got another message from (y/n).

--wanna bet? 😈

Oh Fuck.

"Fuck," Tom muttered under his breath, ignoring the way his fingers twitched for a moment as he thought of a response. She was riling up intentionally, he knew that, she wanted to see what he would do-how he would respond to her challenge.

-Menace.

--scared Riddle?

-Don't do the fucking 'scared potter' thing on me.

--its working isnt it? i know how you tick bb~ ur just scared i'll make u whimper and i'll make you lose control~

-Shut the fuck up.

--oh swearing now are we? you are flustered

He was, his face was red now and his leg was bouncing, somehow even harder imagining (y/n) doing her absolute best to make him whimper.

--so --wanna bet?

Tom took a long deep breath, running his hand through his hand and then down his face. would he regret this? probably.

Fuck it.

-fine. you're on. what do you wanna bet?

he could feel the feral grin through the phone screen.

--i get five minutes to try and make you whimper, i can do whatever i need to do, if you dont whimper-moaning and other shit you usually do is fine im not cruel bb-in those five minutes you cannnnnn, idk, do whatever you want to me?

Now that was enticing.

-What do you get if you do make me whimper? Which wont happen of course.

--you gotta be REALLY vocal next time we do it. i wanna hear allll the sounds you can make, whimpers, moans, grunts, ANYTHING.

Tom flushed, really? All she wanted was for him to be a bit more...vocal during sex? weirdo.

-Weirdo.

--im UR weirdo.

Damn straight. Tom thought about it for a long moment and then groaned. Ffffine. fucking fine.

-Fine. Bet.

--BET!

Tom let out a long sigh, checking the time. it was still another half hour before (y/n) was done with classes for the day, but he suspected she was going to be heading straight to him as soon as she was done-when she was all excited like this-she wouldn't let go of her 'mission' until she got it done.

And this time-her mission was making him whimper. Well, he would make sure she wouldn't hear a single peep out of him this time.

He put his shirt back on and tucked it back into his pants, sighing when he saw he still had a hard on and simply ignored it, going back to his desk and going back to studying-he needed to get this done before (y/n) relentlessly distracted him later.

His timer went off exactly 30 minutes later and he sighed, pushing away from his desk, setting down his quill. Right on the dot-he got a text from (y/n) and he glanced at it with flushed ears.

--omw.

Yep. He knew it. He began mentally preparing himself for whatever sensual onslaught (y/n) had planned for him, crossing his leg over the other as stared at his almost finished essay, before he could think too much on it-the door to his room opened and in stepped in his girlfriend, looking positively giddy.

Oh boy, he was in trouble.

He stared at her as she locked the door behind her and walked right over to him, huffing a bit when she swung her leg over his lap and sat right down, her arms resting over his shoulder as she leaned in close, grinning like a cat that caught her prey.

"Ready to whimper for me baby?" (y/n) cooed and Tom rolled his eyes, uncrossing his arms and resting his hand's on her thighs.

"You wont hear a thing," Tom muttered, keeping his voice monotone and his eyes cold, but (y/n) could see the warmth they had for her, and only her. (y/n) grinned and got right to work, cradling his jaw in both hands and pressing her lips to hiss in a passionate and hungry kiss, quickly heating things up as her tongue licked his bottom lip and then pushed into his mouth.

Tom's breath caught in his chest for a split second, his eyes snapping closed as his grip on her thighs tightened, holding back a groan that wanted to escape as (y/n) practically devoured his lips. 'fuck' he thought, this was going to be harder than he thought.

(y/n) kept kissing him in a way that made him breathless and her hips began to grind down against him-making him gasp a bit as he felt her brush against his bulge that had quickly grown the moment (y/n) had stepped into the room. "(y/n)," Tom hissed quietly, his lips, swollen and shiny with spit, parted as (y/n) pulled away and went down to his jaw, nipping and kissing his skin.

She kept moving her hips down into his and he felt his resolve slowly start to crumble as her lips explored his neck, the sensation of her nibbling, biting down, and sucking all over his neck drove him nearly mad. He couldn't help but groan as he tilted his head back, exposing his neck for her.

(y/n) grinned against his neck, licking up the side and trying to find his sweet spot, anything to make him break. "Gonna whimper for me yet?" she asked sweetly, whispering into his ear and kissing the spot behind it.

"Not a chance." Tom said, every word a struggle to get out, his eyes still closed as (y/n) chuckled and went back to his neck, grazing her teeth and tongue against every spot she could-searching for that one spot that would make him break.

"Guess I'll hav'ta try harder then," she whispered, latching onto the slope of his neck where it met his shoulder as one of her hands went between them and Tom let out a choked groan, his face rising with heat as he heard and felt her undoing his belt and pulling his shirt out of his trousers.

"Don't you dare," Tom warned, but if only so he didn't lose this bet. He knew if (y/n) started touching him, his resistance would quickly fall. She was too good at this. (y/n) smirked against his neck and shimmied his trousers and boxers down-Tom's breath caught and his back arched a bit as (y/n)'s soft fingers wrapped around his aching cock, pre-cum leaking from the tip.

His hips jolted up and then back as her hand began to move, up and down the shaft of his cock, the feeling of her hand driving him mad as the sound of it made it harder to focus on not making those sounds (y/n) so desperately wanted to hear.

"(y/n)," he hissed out, his jaw dropping open as he panted, his breath shuddering with each stroke of his cock and graze of her teeth on his neck. He jolted again when she found the sweet spot on his neck and heat grew in his core as her teeth and tongue lavished that spot with attention while her hand stroked him with increasing intensity, making it harder and harder for him to keep his resolve.

(y/n) shuffled just a bit closer on his lap, his cock pressed against her clothed belly and adding more friction as she moved her hips with her hand, his pre-cum smearing against her skin and clothes.

Fuck.

Tom felt his control falter further as he felt (y/n)'s mouth and her hand work together over his neck and cock. His resolve was broken and he was lost in sensation. A single sound came forth before he could stop it, a hoarse whimper leaving his lips.

(y/n) grinned against his skin, kissing his sweet spot before she pulled back just a bit-her hand continuing to go as she rut her stomach against his cock-feeling him dripping helplessly against her hand and clothes, soaking her shirt in his fluids.

"aww baby, you whimpered," (y/n) cooed-and just then-the five minute timer (y/n) had sneakily set up went off-he had just missed the mark-if he had just lasted another few seconds, he would've won. but he had lost-(y/n) made him whimper.

"Sh-shut-" he let out another hoarse whimper, his breath catching as (y/n) pressed his cock against her belly. "Wh-whatever just-fuck-don't-mmfh- don't tell-tell, shit, tell anyone." Tom commanded, his vision blurry when he looked at (y/n), who was grinning like a bloody basilisk.

"Oh don't worry darling, this is for me and me alone." (y/n)purred, kissing him deeply again, her chest pressed against his as her hand practically fucked his cock, giving him just the right grip as more embarrassing sounds pushed forth from his throat, whimpering into (y/n)'s mouth as she kissed him.

He felt the heat in his core start to spread, his breath and heart going rapid as his head started to fog over with unrelenting pleasure. "shit-(y/n)-FUCK-don't stop-don't stop-don't stop-" Tom babbled as his eyes snapped shut, his head going back as well as (y/n) made out with his jaw and neck, leaving more and more marks on his pale skin as her hand kept going, and going, and going, faster and faster, squeezing a bit whenever she got to the tip-pushing more pre-cum from him until-

Tom's muscles tensed, He gripped the plush of (y/n)'s thighs, his teeth clenching as he felt a tingling throughout his body. His eyes remained shut, although he could still see the world around him somehow.

Then, an intense feeling of warmth started at his core and spread out throughout his entire body. His muscles trembled and shook as he felt pleasure like he hadn't felt before.

A deep moan escaped his lips.

Cum soaked (y/n)'s hand and shirt, some arching over and landing on Tom's belly and thighs while (y/n) began to slowly calm down, her eyes locked onto Tom's bright red face as he let out those little sounds she had been so patiently waiting to hear from him.

"Ahhn, hahh-fuckin hell-" Tom groaned, shuddering as his orgasm washed over him. He whimpered a bit when (y/n)'s hand slightly pushed him into 'too much' territory and he shakily grabbed her wrist that was slick with his cum. "Fuck." he sighed, his body slumping in his desk chair as (y/n) sat triumphantly on his lap, giggling away while he caught his breath.

When his vision finally cleared and he caught his breath, he saw his all too proud of herself girlfriend grinning at him, cum soaking her shirt and her hand covered in it as well, his softened cock just inches away from her hand.

"I hate you," Tom grumbled, his eyes fluttering closed when (y/n) laughed and pecked his lips.

"No you don't~ also i knew you'd sound adorable whimpering, wanna do it for me again?"

...

"Yeah,"

-end-

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle #smut fic #pictures included #well one picture included lol #you dont know how long i spent looking for a picture that actually suited how i think Tom's body looks #we all know he's gotta twink body dont deny it #he skinny~#lanky #but he can have some muscle definition #as a gift #besides this tecincally is Tom the 3rd and not Tom jr aka voldemort #Tom the 3rd can be more built than his dad lol #half text message fic half smut fic half normal fic #anyways enjoy~#i had too much fun #emoji's included

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legs-like-jelly · 1 month ago

Note

UR HEADCANONS FOR GRIMMY AND BULKHEAD ARE SO ADORABLEEEEEEEEEEEEEE I'M GONNA SOB AWHHH

WAITER WAITER, CAN WE HAVE MORE TKL HEADCANONS FOR GRIMMY!? IT MAYBE G1 OR ANY ANIMATED BUT PLS I LOVE MY BAWBYYY

how about the rest of them?

g1:

very VERY big nibbler he LOVES nibbling on his lee it's his fav activity

i have this hc that all versions of grimmy snort when they laugh and i think rid15 PROVED ME RIGHT

doesn't know how to tease, but makes up for it with his nuzzles and little purrs GUYS-- guys.

soft pinches are his second favorite and i feel like he gets cuteness aggression to bad, that's why he spends most of his time nibbling on his lee UUUGHJHHHH.

his favorite spot is either his ankles or the bottom of his pedes and tbh im pulling that from that one rid15 clip @pockysfluffiez posted i will not let that go ever.

cyberverse:

they made him a chilled out scientist in his bot mode and its,,,dgjjjjjdfjjjjjdjjrhehdhd im normal avbout it im defo normal abt it

he has the sweetest snort-laugh....and he gets kinda blushy too when you tease him im so normal im so emphatically normal guys.

his favorite spot is right behind his audial bcs i said so

just as sweet of a ler as he is a lee..

will tell his lee how cute they are while he wrecks them to bits, will say how much he treasures their laugh and how nice it is to see them happy IM LOSING IT-

he's so huge he definitely takes advantage of his size to scoop up smaller bots and just scribble his fingers against their tummy SHAKES THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE!!!

animated:

not very familiar with tickling, but he defo tries his best

he gets VERY jumpy and aggressive when someone tries to tickle him, it's a privilege very few have to be able to wreck tfa grimlock

lots of playful growls and aggressive tummy nuzzles with this guy i feel like

if you DO manage to get him, he'll be very fidgety and swat a lot. beware of him waving his energo-sword....

much like g1 grimmy, he is LOUD when laughing like my autobot in christ you're going to alert the enemy lines if you keep cackling like that

earthspark:

EARTHSPARK OHH EARTHSPARK MY BELOVED EVERYONE PLEASE WATCH EARTHSPARK I WILL SCREAM THIS AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS.

some of these hcs are ones i made up with @an0ma1y-th3d0ma1y

oh my god the ghost tickles with him are so BAD because he'll nuzzle his face into the lee's neck and whisper "om nom nom nom!" ANDD IM GOING GRAZY.

his faaaavorite spot is under his chin I DONT TAKE CRITICISM

like animated grimmy, he loves to growl playfully and his favorite trick to pull it on is JAWBREAKER BCS I SAID SO

he also pretends to kiss his lee's palms just to give them even MORE GHOST TICKLES I HATE HIM I HATE HIM SMASHES EVERYTHING IN SIGHT.

LOVES GIVING PHANTOM NIBBLES TO HIS LEE'S TUMMY TOO!!

god forbid he start's clawing at the lee's tummy or traps them in his arms and purrs as loud as he can to create the most tickly vibrations AARHRHGGGGG.

LOOOOOVES TO TEASE he's NOTORIOUS for it

"I'm not even tickling you yet, what's so funny?" "hmm i wonder if i can dial optimus on this phone here.." AND THEN HE STARTS POKING THE LEES TUMMY and dear primus as motley would say, he gotta die.

gives the best aftermath snuggles sorry i dont make the rules except i do

not as much of a kicker, but he does kick a few times!

will scrunch up his shoulders if you get a really bad spot

CANNOT TAKE ANTICIPATION FOR THE LIFE OF HIM HE WILL BE GIGGLING BEFORE YOU EVEN LOWER YOUR FINGERS..

im insane im insane im losing it(like i havent already) guys i need him to be WRECKED TO OBLIVION RIGHT NOW I NEED JAWBREAKER TO GET HIM BACK FOR ALL THE GHOST TICKLES GRIMLOCK;S GIVEN HIM. LIKE NOW LIKE NOW.

#i lost all of these hcs btw #so i had to redo them #mildly upset but whatever #can you guys also tell who my favorite grimlock is?#goes mad #jelly answers #sfw tickling community #sfw tickle community #transformers #transformers tickles #grimlock #tickle hcs #tickle fluff

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the-invisibility-bloke · 2 months ago

Note

001 Sirius/Hagrid ship or just thier relationship

I’m sorry what now? XD Okay. Okay. I’m game. I gotta start doing these sober, though.

001 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

when I started shipping it if I did: I... do not ship them... BUT... okay, sure, late 2024, as of this ask?

my thoughts: I actually love that you sent this, because it never even crossed my mind that they were anything more than names on each other’s radar, but of course they were friends! How did I miss this?! Hagrid didn’t just pick up a random fucking motorbike, he got it from Sirius, and okay, yes, Sirius had an intimate (heh) connection to James and Lily, so of course it makes sense he’d be involved, but Hagrid had to have known he had the motorbike, so. Yeah. Okay. I’m buying it. Hagrid’s hyperfixation with dangerous creatures and Sirius’ hyperfixation with dangerous Muggle modes of transport, yes, bff material for sure.

What makes me happy about them: OKAY BUT LIKE WHAT IF. Hagrid befriended Sirius the way he did Harry, like, Sirius got sorted Gryffindor when his whole family expected Slytherin, so until he got close to James and the others, he might’ve felt very alone, and maybe Hagrid was the one who was like hey, hey it’s ok buddy, don’t worry, you’ll make friends soon! Hey wanna see a unicorn give birth? Sure ya do, come on, into the forest with ye, have some shitty rock cakes too, there’s a lad. etc.

What makes me sad about them: Well we know how emotional Hagrid is so just fucking IMAGINE what he was feeling when James and Lily died and Sirius got carted to Azkaban, Jesus CHRIST he saw these babies grow up ffs.

things I look for in fanfic: I shan’t be seeking any ship fic, but I’d like to see more of their friendship, and it probably exists aplenty, I just haven’t delved that hard into the Maruarders side of fandom yet. Oh oh! Oh! What if like. Hagrid let Sirius keep his motorbike in Hagrid’s hut/garden/invisible shed/whatever when Sirius first started working on it bc it was all contraband and shit, so where else would he have kept it? Awwwwwww.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: I’d like to think Hagrid and Olympe eventually find happiness. You know what I’m gonna say for Sirius.

My happily ever after for them: JUST FRIENDS PLS.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: No what. No. LOL.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Oh god. Literally anything. They don’t have sex. Please.

#sirius black #hagrid #asks #anon

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love-kurdt · 1 year ago

Text

This is Me Trying (byler): 3

word count: 6,996

warnings for this chapter: none really, ngl. just very honest and open conversation. but same as all the other warnings in previous chapters, just be cautious if you see anything that may trigger you. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short: if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, please dni.

The world buzzed with static around him, each second feeling like an eternity. Time stood still, just like the day Mike took off his watch. His hands were shaking, the anticipation inside him about to explode like fireworks. He balled his hands up into fists and put them in his sweatshirt pockets, but immediately pulled them back out because he could feel his palms getting sweaty.

Mike glanced around, and saw the nextdoor neighbor taking her dog out for a walk. He raised his hand in an awkward greeting, and she smiled back at him. He watched her run further and further away until they were out of his line of sight; a minute had definitely passed by now. He turned his attention back to the door, and lifted his hand again, going to knock one last time.

But then, before he was able to, Will opened the door.

Mike froze, his hand still in the air. He lowered his arm slowly, and took a mental photograph of Will’s awestricken face before he was met with a faceful of door. He should have seen that coming. He leaned his head against the door, exhaling with a shaky breath. “Will… I know I’m the last person you want to see. I just…” he hesitated, digging his nails into his palms. This was likely going to be his first of many fumbles. “This is going fucking splendidly already, Jesus Christ.”

There was no response on Will’s end, but Mike figured he might as well get everything off his chest, even if Will wasn’t there to hear it. Saying it out loud could probably suffice. “Uh… I guess I should start by saying I’m sorry. For everything. For hurting you with my words, with my actions, for being so fucking reckless with my life. I’ve accumulated a lot of regrets over the past few years, but…” here goes nothing, “loving you will never be one of them.”

Mike closed his eyes with his head still on the door, but jumped back a bit in surprise when he felt a light thump right next to his face. “... Will?”

“I’m listening.”

The faint sound of Will’s voice was music to Mike’s ears; low and velvety, with a hint of rasp. His stomach nervously flipped as he cleared his throat, continuing on. “I’ve been a mess without you. I don’t know who I am without you. This is me trying to say…” Mike trailed off. What was he trying to say? How could he reduce his love for Will into a single sentence? How could he explain himself in a concise, yet bold form that wouldn’t scare Will away? He couldn’t. He was doomed regardless of how the conversation would unfold. He asked Will the first thing that came to mind: “... You ever been to a college party?”

“Yeah, a few.” Will replied.

“Well, I just failed out of school because I went to way too many of them. I just drove here directly from my last one, actually.” He tried to add a bit of humor to his voice, but it ended up coming out sounding pathetically broken. Fumble number two. Fuck it all. Everything was going down in flames. Mike set his hand on the door, caressing the painted surface as if it were Will’s face.

“But here’s the thing— it’s hard to be at a party when you feel like an open wound. You’re all I think about, and it’s like I can’t… I can’t let go. It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you. And even though you don’t love me, and even if we can never be friends again, I need that closure, Will, and I need you to understand that I won’t move on if that never happens.” Mike felt the doorknob click below, and he lifted his head up just as the door opened again. Will emerged, tears lining his cheeks. Motherfucking fumble number three. When Will and Mike were little, they functioned as a unit. When Will was happy, Mike was happy. When Will would cry, Mike would cry with him. Now, Mike felt like he was five years old again, getting choked up at the sight of Will crying, and mentally cursed himself. “Fuck, now I’ve made you cry for the umpteenth time in our lives. What else is new?”

Will crossed his arms across his chest, and looked down towards the ground, still on the defensive. But his voice betrayed him when he said, “No, please don't worry about me. It’s fine. And I…” his voice wobbled, “I’m sorry for slamming the door. I was just so…”

Mike nodded in sorrowful understanding. “Yeah.”

He took a good look at Will, noticing how Will’s hair had finally grown out of the bowl cut, falling into his eyes in loose copper waves, ending just above his strong jaw. His eyes, even obscured with tears, looked green as ever. Mike wanted to drown in them.

“You changed your hair,” Mike heard himself say. Will let out a small smile at that, brushing some of his bangs out of his eyes, along with some tears that had attached themselves to his eyelashes.

“Yeah, the bowl was kind of… archaic.” Both of them began awkwardly laughing while still crying. Mike had to refrain from thinking too much, because if he did, he’d get all sentimental about how this was the first time he’d laughed with Will in… he couldn’t even remember.

“You like it, though?” he asked. He still sought his approval, after everything. Of course Mike liked it. Mike liked Will’s hair no matter how it was cut. But this style that Will was sporting currently had Mike falling flat on his face; and not literally, for once.

“Yeah, it really suits you,” he told Will, who was flattered at the compliment.

“Thank you. I mean, Mom’s skill set with scissors was… limited, but she tried.” Mike thought of that one time he’d walked into the Byers household unannounced back in junior year of high school. Will was sitting on a chair in the middle of the kitchen with a literal bowl on his head as Joyce shuffled around her son with a pair of kitchen shears. Joyce was an incredible mom who loved both of her boys unconditionally. Which reminded Mike…

“How’d you get my number?”

“Your mom gave it to me over Christmas break.”

“She shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m sorry for letting her give me your number,” he apologized, picking at the nails of his index fingers with his thumbs. “And I’m sorry for calling you on your birthday. I should’ve respected your space.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Will replied quickly, eyes wide. “I was being a total asshole that day. I know this doesn’t excuse what I said to you, but I’ll have you know I’d just failed an English test–”

“Did you not read the material?” Mike smirked, and Will smiled back up at him, their eyes fully meeting for the first time.

“You know me too well,” he said, and Mike’s heart skipped a beat. “But then, when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, my boyfriend at the time broke up with me.”

Mike gawked at that, his eyes narrowing. “On your birthday? That’s ass.”

Will leaned against the doorframe. “Mike Wheeler, everyone: ex-English major, literary nerd, and author.” Mike ignored the not-so-subtle roasts in favor of Will’s muscles, which were even more defined than he remembered. Will had obviously become well-acquainted with the gym. His gaze trailed along the divots of his biceps, and his mouth went dry when he realized that Will was wearing… the blue sweatshirt Mike had sworn had gone missing during senior year.

“But yeah,” Will continued, “leave it to Matt Winters to ruin the one day of the year where I don’t feel like shit. So when you called, I’d just gotten back home. And I felt so guilty for snapping at you and hanging up that I didn’t call you back after the fact, because I was afraid you’d be mad at me.”

“Are you kidding? I could never be mad at you. Ever,” Mike emphasized. “And we both know I’m not a good person when I hold grudges.”

Will’s strong eyebrows furrowed, and Mike feared he’d said something wrong, but Will rose up onto his tiptoes, lifting his hand up to Mike’s forehead in mock-concern. “Mike, are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?” Yes. If Will was going to act all flirty and cute and tiptoe-y and forehead touch-y, then they’d need to call an ambulance. Because Mike was down bad.

“Haha. You’re funny,” Mike deadpanned at the joke, despite himself.

Will retreated back to his spot in the doorway. “But seriously, I just told you that I have a real live ex, and you’re not mad?” How could Mike be mad at Will for that? Why would Mike be mad at Will for that? It wasn’t like Mike had any right or say as to who Will dated, and if Mike did so much as judge Will for any romance-related decisions, he’d be the biggest fucking hypocrite to ever walk the earth. He figured he’d come clean to Will about this one. It was the whole reason why he was here, after all.

“Will, I hooked up with four guys…” Should he say this next part? Sure, okay, whatever– “And all of them had the initials ‘WB’.” Mike’s focus shifted down to his shoes, too humiliated to see Will’s reaction. But he didn’t even have to see it, because Will giggled. Like, high pitched and adorably. Mike’s head snapped up and Will, having gotten caught laughing at Mike’s biggest shame, slapped his own hand to his mouth in a failed attempt to stifle it.

“No way,” Will said, his voice still suppressed with his hand.

“Way,” Mike quipped back. He decided to try something new then, reaching up to Will’s wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. His beautiful lips were curved into a shy smile.

Will shook his head, crossing his arms again, but not in hostility like he had before. “I don’t believe you.” And all of a sudden, it was August 1989, and they were back in Mike’s basement again. Those were Will’s last words to Mike before he’d stormed out, never to be seen again. And a year and a half later, Will became thoroughly aware of the aftermath, where Mike tried and failed to fill the Will-less void with–

“Wyatt Bowman, Wes Butler, Walker Brooks, Warren Blakeley,” he listed off what he’d endearingly dubbed The WBs™, but now in retrospect viewed as fucking pathetic, and watched as Will exhaled sadly. He tacked the only thing he could think of onto the end of his list to lighten the mood: “... And there was a guy named Elvis.”

Will snorted. “Like Presley?”

“Exactly.”

“Jesus,” Will whispered, running a hand through his hair. Mike wished it was his hand instead. As he took in Will’s jarred reaction, his world went cold. It made more sense when Mike shivered, looked up, and felt a few snowflakes land on his eyelids. He lowered his gaze back to Will, avoiding the impending guilt with lighthearted bluntness.

“Yeah,” he concluded unceremoniously, “so, you have an ex-boyfriend, and I have a disturbingly high body count. I think that makes us even.” Will’s lips formed a line, and Mike diverted his eyes back to the ground. He watched Will’s feet, clad in fuzzy socks and slippers, shift backwards. The moment was finally here; this was the end. They were not, in fact, even; Will was shutting him out for the last time, giving Mike the closure he’d practically begged for. Mike lifted his head so he could at least say goodbye properly, but saw that Will was… waiting for him?

“Wanna come inside?” he asked, and Mike raised his eyebrows in shock. Well, that was a plot twist if he’d ever seen one. He took a deep breath, muttering a slow “Yeah… sure,” and followed Will into his house. Mike took off his mud-caked shoes at the front door, remembering how much of a neat freak Will was, and imagining his reaction if he tracked the past seven or so hours into the house. He expected it would probably begin with “Michael James.”

Once situated, he took a look around the living room. There were multiple swirly, wooden furniture pieces that Mike knew Will wouldn’t have picked out in a million years, but he’d still managed to make the apartment his own. Framed movie posters, a black couch, and a few bookshelves were sprinkled modestly amongst the otherwise very feminine decor. Mike walked over to the bookshelves, which were fully stacked with comic books and picture frames. He peered at one of Will posed with Ivy and Hannah, who gripped onto either side of a metal pole that Will had perched atop his shoulders as he lifted them in a white muscle tank top. He knew he’d started working out. God, Will was attractive. He smiled to himself, moving on to look at the next photo. It was the exact same one Mike had on his desk, the photo that Jonathan took of Mike on Will’s handlebars. Mike felt like crying again, so he looked away before that could happen. His attention was drawn to the ceiling, which was lined with Christmas lights. He guessed the passage of time had thankfully worked in Will’s favor, as well.

“So Kate’s at work?” Mike asked, and Will whipped around from where he’d been organizing one of his other bookshelves, like he cared about what Mike thought in regard to his preference of alphabetical versus publisher order.

“How do you know about Kate?”

Mike hesitated, expression sheepish, “I… I ran into your friends Ivy and Hannah on campus. They’re how I found you.”

Will blanched. “Oh God. What did they say to you?”

Mike shook his head in reassurance, taking a step towards Will. “Nothing out of the ordinary. I think they were just worried about me, because I was… kind of lost.”

“You didn’t think to get a map?” Will, the little shit, teased as he took a step of his own towards Mike.

“I had one, Will!” Mike tossed a hand up in exasperation. “I just… couldn’t read it correctly?�� He phrased the last part of his sentence more like a question, which Will must have thought was funny, because he moved a few inches closer to Mike in order to poke his chest.

“Okay, that tracks,” he grinned, and Mike feigned offense as he felt Will’s fingerprint burn a hole in his sweatshirt, the fire expanding to scorch his entire torso. Will was close enough that Mike could hear Will breathing lightly through his nose, and could see the freckles scattered like constellations across his neck. His eyes traveled up a bit to land on the one mole above Will’s lip, and he fought the urge to kiss it.

“Ivy and Hannah said to tell you they said you’re welcome, by the way, whatever that means,” he breathed, and Will processed what Mike had just told him before bringing his hands up to his own face as he turned beet-red.

“Of course they did.”

Mike observed Will’s reaction, pushing down the bit of hope that bubbled up inside of him. He hadn’t a single clue of what Will had told his two friends, but the way he reacted made him think that maybe it wasn’t all terrible.

“Wait,” Will brought a hand up to lightly smack his forehead, “I’m so stupid, I should have asked when you first came in.” You’re not stupid at all, if anything I’m stupid, but go on, Mike thought. “Do you need anything to drink or eat? You look like shit.”

“Wow,” Mike said as he glared back at Will, giving away his joking nature with a small lift of his lips. “But sure, water is fine, thank you.” Will stood there for a moment in contemplation. Mike gulped, feeling incredibly anxious as to what Will would say next.

“I’m gonna make you pancakes,” he told Mike, ambition in his tone. Mike wasn’t even supposed to be there, yet there Will was, taking on the role of hospitable host. Mike shrugged, leaving the option up to Will as to if he really wanted to be that kind to him.

“You don’t have to.”

Will was the one who shortened the distance between them this time, taking Mike’s much larger hand in his own, intertwining their fingers and gently rubbing his thumb along the back of it. “But I want to.” Mike felt lightheaded.

“Well, I didn’t say it.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Mike glanced down at their connected hands as Will spoke again, but he didn’t hear what he was saying. He blinked, pulling his attention back up to Will’s face. How was he supposed to concentrate on what Will was saying when their palms were brushing together with intentionality? And of Will’s own volition, no less.

“Wait, sorry, what?”

“I said, I’ll have some too, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Well, now Mike had to say yes. He gave in, and Will nodded in approval before letting go of Mike’s hand. Those few sweet seconds would have been enough to last Mike for another year and a half without him, but now Will was making him pancakes. There was no turning back after this. Will headed to the kitchen, turning back when he noticed Mike standing in the middle of the room and gesturing for Mike to follow him, chuckling to himself.

Damn Will for being so aware of the effect he had on Mike.

They made it into the kitchen, and Will headed to the pantry while Mike hopped up on the counter like when they were kids. Old habits die hard. Will eyed him from where he stood, grabbing the box of Bisquick. He ritualistically walked around the kitchen, grabbing eggs, milk, vegetable oil, and a bowl before setting them all down on the counter. He paused in what he was doing to reach over to his coffee pot, pouring a mug, grabbing the sugar bowl and dumping whatever was left into the mug before handing it to Mike, who took it with gracious hands. He’d remembered the way Mike took his coffee. Black, no cream, and a diabetes-level fuck ton of sugar.

“Thank you.” That didn’t even begin to cover how Mike felt about it.

Will hummed in response as he got to work, cracking an egg into the bowl and whisking it around. “So what have you been up to? I mean, besides hooking up with the entire male population of Indianapolis and failing out of school,” Will asked, and Mike died a little on the inside. The truth hurts sometimes, Wheeler. Deal with it.

“Jeez, Will. Harsh. Warn a guy next time,” Mike frowned, sipping his coffee. “I’ve been working on a novel.”

“Ooh, do tell!” Will exclaimed, turning to Mike as he stirred the batter, the sweatshirt he wore— Mike’s sweatshirt— stretching as his muscles flexed underneath the fabric of the sleeves. Mike set his coffee down next to him and shifted so his hands were squished under his thighs. That way he wouldn’t be able to do what he truly wanted to, which was to grab Will by his waist and shove his tongue down his throat as he ran his fingertips over Will’s arms.

“Um, it’s a mythological coming of age, with a bit of a twist… the protagonist is gay.”

“Ohhh my god,” Will grinned, all teeth. “That is great. I love that.”

I love you, Mike thought, but held his tongue. “Right? But yeah, I’ve been working on that, and… journaling. A lot.” Well… journaling was a synonym of writing dozens upon dozens of love letters, right? But Will didn’t have to know that.

“Mike Wheeler using a therapist-approved coping mechanism? I’m proud of you,” Will said. Mike preened at the praise as he pulled one of his hands out from under his leg to pick up his mug.

There was a beat of silence, and Will stood there, his eyes fixed on Mike for a strangely long time as the pancakes sizzled. Mike watched Will’s Adam’s apple bob up and down. He was either hallucinating, tripping, or Will was checking Mike out.

“But what about you?” Mike asked, effectively snapping Will out of his trance, “Any groundbreaking endeavors I should be caught up on?”

Will shrugged as he plated the perfectly congruent, golden pancakes he’d made. “I’ve been working on this new painting for a while now… it’s a watercolor piece, so it’s kind of out of my comfort zone,” Will explained, turning to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of Canadian maple syrup. Mike nodded at what Will was telling him, but something else dwelled in the forefront of his mind.

“Yeah, you’re more into oils on canvas, right?” Mike asked, and Will’s eyes snapped up to meet his, establishing an understanding between the two of them. “I saw the painting,” Mike remarked slowly, trying his best not to freak Will out or make him feel ashamed of it. “I’ve gotta say, you flatter me, Byers. I am not that attractive.”

Will couldn’t hide his smile. “Shut up. Yes you are.”

Will handed Mike a plate, and Mike thanked him as they dug in, the two young men standing at (and sitting on) the counter as they ate. Mike cut into his pancakes, stabbing a bite-sized piece with his fork and swirling it around in the syrup on his plate. He looked up when he heard a similar scratching noise and saw Will doing the same thing. Will met Mike’s gaze, light smile gracing his face as he lifted the fork up and popped the piece into his mouth. Mike blushed when he realized he’d been staring, and quickly focused back on his own plate. He chewed the piece of pancake he’d cut and confirmed to himself only after one bite that these were the best pancakes he’d ever had. These were pancakes of reconciliation.

He turned towards Will to compliment his culinary skills, which would inevitably be shot down with a humble, “they’re just pancakes, Mike,” only to see Will staring at Mike already. Will’s eyes jumped from Mike to the floor to the kitchen cabinet to the floor and back to Mike all within the span of five seconds. Mike held his attention this time when he licked his lips, and Will watched intently as the syrup disappeared.

God, Mike felt like he was in high school all over again; those four years had felt like a romcom movie montage of staring, quick touches, and flirting back and forth. The only difference between those movies and real life was the reserved, cautious nature behind every single stare, touch, and flirtation. But this time around, Mike noticed, Will seemed more confident in himself, more purposeful in the way he carried and expressed himself. Everything lingered for longer than normal, than acceptable, than usual. It was a promising sign.

Once they’d finished their pancakes and put their dishes in the sink, Mike and Will headed to Will’s room. There was something intimate about entering Will’s space like this; something sacred, something previously unattainable. That was the dresser that held all of Will’s clothes. That was the desk Will drew at. That was the bed Will slept in. That was the phone Will had used to break Mike’s heart.

Mike admired the dark blue walls, decorated modestly with a few more posters, before he came across Will’s framed Hawkins High School diploma. Mike remembered that day vividly; after everyone in the Party had walked across the stage and gone back to Mike’s house to celebrate, Will had brought their friends into a secluded area of the house and told them he was gay. Mike, who had been head over heels in love with his best friend for over five years at that point, was having a crisis, because oh my God, Will was gay, and the flirting might not have all been in his head. Maybe he had a chance. But every interaction between them following that day was strictly platonic, and Will made sure Mike knew it. So Mike withdrew after a while, not wanting to keep stringing himself along like he had been.

“Little did I know that everything would change,” Mike said more to himself than to Will, but Will walked over to stand next to him, close enough that their arms brushed.

“Why, because I came out?” he asked, looking up at Mike, who didn’t reciprocate the action, but instead kept staring straight ahead at the diploma, as if it were a portal that would take him back in time to before his world imploded.

“No, not because you came out. Because… because then, I fell under the delusion that I could finally have you.” He looked down at Will then. “But then I fucked it all up in August.”

Will turned his body so he could fully face Mike before saying, “Okay, I’m confused. I’ve gotta ask. What’s your recollection of that night?”

Mike didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to remember it. Hell, he didn’t want to think about it. But Mike took a second to reason with himself, because Will was standing beside him, Will was asking something of him, and the least he could do after everything was oblige to Will’s one request. So Mike told him.

It was the summer of 1989, and all was well. Hawkins was no longer nationally renowned as an extra-terrestrial hybrid between earth and hell, but simply as a small town in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. It was the summer of 1989, and Mike was lying on the basement couch with his legs hanging off the edge. His eyes were closed, and he wore his headphones which were attached to his Walkman, playing Will’s mixtape on repeat, just as Mike had from the second it fell into his hands back in 1986. He felt the thumps of the opening and closing of the basement door, followed by light footsteps treading down the stairs. He cracked a singular eye open, but opened them both fully when he registered that it was Will who was entering his space. He always loved when Will came to his house unannounced; there was a certain element of familiarity, of family, of domesticity.

“Mike, we’ve gotta talk,” Will said, his voice a bit edgier than usual.

“Okay, what’s up? Are you–” Mike sat up, pulling his headphones fully off his head and resting them around his neck. Then he saw the look on Will’s face. He looked livid.

“What the fuck are these?” Will spat. Mike’s eyes widened at what Will held in his hands. Fuck. How on earth did he find them? Mike thought he’d hidden them well enough. Apparently, he was sorely mistaken, because Will held Mike’s letters, all twenty-six of them, all addressed to Will, in his shaking hands. Mike couldn’t even begin to explain, mouth hanging wide open.

“Dear Will,” the boy with the bowlcut began with a snarl, “when I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my life. Dear Will, why does loving you feel so wrong yet so right? Dear Will, I want you to hold me in your arms forever, because it’s the only place I can truly call home.” Mike wanted to die. “I don’t know what to… Why the hell are these addressed to me? And why… Why are there so many?”

“Because…” Mike squeaked out, eyes wide with intimidation, “they were for you. You were never meant to find those, I swear to God.”

“Are you making fun of me or something?” Will snapped, and Mike flinched. He’d never seen Will this angry before. He stood up then, his face on fire with inferiority from when he’d been on the couch as Will towered over him. Now, Mike was the one looking down at Will, whose chest was heaving with unadulterated rage.

“Come on, Will! I’m your best friend, and you really thought I’d make fun of you for being gay?” Mike kept his tone soft, what the Party called his Will Voice™, trying to calm Will down. It worked, at least a little bit, because Will’s breathing became more regulated, and less metaphorical smoke escaped his ears. But his eyes were still a menacing shade of green, his pupils blown wide.

“Well, no,” Will’s voice was lower this time, laced with venom, “but that does not mean you get to fuck around at my expense.” Will could not have been more wrong. Mike was anything but fucking around. Malice was the last thing on his mind when he thought about Will. When he thought about Will, he felt safe, he felt hopeful, he felt valuable, and he felt worthy. What he felt for Will was pure love, and he’d say it out loud… if he didn’t hate himself so much.

“I poured my heart out in those letters,” Mike told him, taking a step forward. Will stepped back. “I didn’t write them for shits and fucking giggles, they were genuine,” he continued, following Will as he backed away, stopping only when he had Will caged in between his arms, back against the wall of the basement. Will held onto Mike’s wrist, their watches positioned side by side. Mike closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, collecting himself in preparation for what he was about to say next. Confession time. “I wanted to send them so badly… I just didn’t, because I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

Mike opened his eyes, drinking in the expression on Will’s flustered face. He blinked slowly, lashes fluttering, and fuck, he could hear Will’s heartbeat. He licked his lips. Afraid of what? I’m afraid of the world. I’m afraid of our country. I’m afraid of this town. I’m afraid of my family. I’m afraid of your dad. I’m afraid of myself. But I’m not afraid of you, Will. I’m not afraid of you.

And with that, Mike leaned down and kissed Will.

Those were the best five seconds of Mike’s life, by far. Will’s lips were smooth, yet firm. They were warm. Mike wanted to kiss Will forever. He allowed himself, for once in his life, to take what he wanted, and moved his hands down from the wall to Will’s hips, gripping them with all of his pent-up passion, holding him close. He felt Will’s hands meet Mike’s shoulders, and… he was pushing Mike away. Oh no.

“What are you doing, Mike? Is this a joke?” What was it with Will thinking everything was so fucking funny to Mike? He’d just bared his soul to the love of his life, but Will had interpreted everything as simply cruel humor. That was what Will thought of Mike. He wouldn’t stand for it.

“No, Will, I’m in love with you,” he said in full earnest, grabbing Will’s hand, just like he’d always done throughout the years whenever Will felt angry, alone, or scared. In turn, Will aggressively shook Mike’s hand away like it burned him.

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that, you don’t mean it.” What the hell?

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“I just… you’re…” Will forced his words out in a state of panic, ducking out of Mike’s reach as he headed for the stairs. “I can’t do this. Not now.”

“Please don’t go. Hear me out,” Mike pleaded, getting desperate now. “Will, you’ve got to believe me.”

Will turned around from where he stood, halfway to the basement door, his gaze ice cold. “Well, I don’t, Mike. I don’t believe you.” Mike took back what he’d thought about not being afraid of Will. He was terrified. He watched Will stomp up the rest of the way, slamming the door behind him. Mike put a hand up to his mouth, muffling a sob.

What had he done?

Mike stopped his pacing for a moment to breathe. He’d gotten it all out, and by some miracle, without breaking down. He looked over at Will, who rested his chin on his palm as he sat on his bed, staring into space. “I never got the chance to explain myself. You just… shut off.” Will blinked a few times, looking up at Mike with that same blank expression, and Mike wanted to scream. But he didn’t. He didn’t have the energy.

Will breathed out hard through his nose, getting up from his spot on the bed and meeting Mike where he was at, and placing a hand on his arm. Mike didn’t move; all this talk about Will abandoning him caused some of the resentment to return. But Will took Mike’s chin and moved it so their eyes could meet again. He looked sad.

“Because I had convinced myself that you could never love me the way I loved you. But all of a sudden you were telling me that you loved me romantically and wanted to be with me forever! How can you blame me for being thrown off?”

Mike shrugged, resigned. “I can’t.” And he meant it; he couldn’t blame Will for being thrown off, because Mike had gone through the complete opposite, having felt led on and let down. “But you also can’t blame me for waiting so long to say something. I literally hated myself for years for being gay.” Will’s hand that held his chin lowered down to the space between his neck and his shoulder, and he went to reply, but Mike spoke faster. “And when you came out, I thought maybe I could, too. But then, another part of me didn’t want to say anything, because coming clean about my true feelings for you would’ve destroyed everything we worked so hard to build back up after California.”

“Well, I didn’t make it any easier by keeping you at arm’s length after I came out,” Will said as he ran his thumb back and forth along Mike’s sweatshirt sleeve. “I tried to convince myself I was okay with being just friends in order to protect myself, you know?”

“Yeah,” Mike’s tone was rough as he crossed his arms, and Will pulled away. Nice going, Mike, you fucking asshole. “I mean…” Mike softened his voice, “I get your thought process. I just felt so… rejected. And after August, it felt so final. Like, I really thought you had zero feelings for me, and that I had severely misread things.”

“You didn’t. Believe me, Mike. You didn’t,” the words tumbled out of Will’s mouth, startling both of them at once.

Mike looked down, feeling the beginnings of tears pricking his eyes. “I’m trying to.”

Will reached out to Mike and pulled his hand up into his own, his fingertips gently mapping out the veins that spread out beneath Mike’s skin. “Do you still hate yourself now?” he asked, and Mike looked up slowly.

“I’m not gonna lie, yeah, I do,” he admitted, playing with Will’s fingers as he spoke. He was not proud of the person he’d become. He relived every single one of his mistakes on a constant loop, with each day bleeding into the next. The shame devoured him like a hungry beast. Every waking moment without Will felt like suffocation. Mike slowed his movements before confessing something else, something he never thought he’d ever be able to. “But I hate living my life without you even more.”

Will let out a small sniffle at that, and Mike was quick to comfort him, his hands flying up to cup his face and swipe his tears away. Will leaned into the touch, his voice breaking. “I hate living my life without you, too.”

“Can I…” Mike hesitated, uncertainty flooding his thoughts, but he swiftly pushed it away. “Can I hug you?” he asked. Will nodded, laughing wetly as he said, “Yes, of course.”

Mike pulled Will into a tight embrace, warmth filling his body instantly as Will’s head fell against his chest, right over his heart. He could only imagine what Will was thinking, granted the fact that his heart was thrumming at record speed. Will ran his hands up Mike’s back, pulling him down slightly by his shoulderblades. Mike nestled his nose in Will’s shaggy hair, breathing him in. He still washed his hair with the coconut shampoo he’d always used. In order to avoid the temptation to inhale Will’s scalp like a vacuum, he opted to place a feather light kiss there, so light that in the future, only he would remember it happening. As they stood there, their bodies flush against one another, Mike knew he didn’t need a watch to tell that time as an entity ceased to exist. Mike and Will held each other tightly as the rest of the world fell away. This was what Mike had been waiting for. Just this. He finally felt whole again.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been clinging to each other, or who pulled away first, but he was sure of the fact that both of them were crying. Again. “Goddamnit,” Mike laughed, practically slapping his sweatshirt sleeve up to his face to absorb the tears that fell there.

“Since when have you been a Frequent Crier?” Will teased, and Mike remembered that Will had never been exposed to the outcome of his emotional revolution before.

“What can I say?” Mike continued the bit, “Their loyalty program has really good perks.”

“Can’t argue there,” Will laughed, leaning his forehead onto Mike’s chest again as Mike’s hands ran up and down Will’s sides. He memorized the feel of Will’s improved physique, trailing his hands upwards until his hands met Will’s chest.

“Also,” Mike said into the silence, causing Will to twitch slightly, but not enough to remove his forehead from Mike’s chest. “The Heart? Didn’t know I was still held in such high esteem.” Will’s hands, which had been resting on Mike’s hips, moved forward until they were wrapped around Mike’s lower back.

“You’ve always been my heart, Mike,” Will told him, voice steady and sure. “You never really stopped.” Mike felt his jaw drop, barely able to process what he was hearing. The words that left Will’s lips ricocheted around Mike’s brain, and he might have forgotten how to breathe for a minute. He needed Will to pinch him, so he could wake up from this… if it wasn't real, it would be a nightmare. Instead of asking Will to do it for him, he pinched himself, and felt butterflies erupt in his stomach when he didn’t snap his eyes open to the sight of his bedroom back in Indianapolis. He was still here, in Will’s room, and Will was holding him rather sensually, and Mike felt so fucking alive.

“So… where do we go from here?” Mike whispered, and Will lifted his head, an unrecognizable look in his eyes. Mike backed away, fear slowly entering the peripherals of his mind, all possible worst-case scenarios threatening to cave in on him. He’d gone too far, been too forward, taken Will for granted, given off the impression of an ulterior motive.

“Sorry,” he said, almost a reflex at this point in his life. He always had something to be sorry for. Something to make up for. Something to–

“Me too,” Will whispered, grabbing Mike’s wrist before he could get too far. He pulled Mike back in sharply and grabbed him by the back of his neck, tugging him all the way down until their lips collided. Mike let out a little noise in absolute shock, but not wasting any time as he shoved his hands into Will’s hair, raising his head as he leaned into the heat of Will’s mouth. While Mike’s hands remained pretty central to Will’s upper body, Will’s hands roved Mike everywhere they possibly could. They lifted from Mike’s lower back, up his torso, past his chest, around the back of Mike’s head to brush the nape of his neck, through Mike’s long hair, then back down to grope Mike’s ass. Mike squeaked into Will’s mouth, and he responded with a low hum of a laugh that sent vibrations through Mike’s body and set him ablaze. Mike lowered his grip on Will’s shoulders to his biceps, squeezing them the way he’d wanted to since Will opened the door earlier that morning. Will broke the kiss then, smirking up at the taller man. “You really like my arms, don’t you?”

“Yeah, how’d you notice?” Mike tried to be sarcastic, but ended up sounding breathless. Will pressed a chaste kiss to Mike’s lips, turning them around and backing Mike up until his calves hit the base of Will’s bed. Mike was sure he had died and gone to heaven.

“You wouldn’t stop ogling. You were being so fucking obvious, it was hilarious,” Will teased, and Mike whined a little in embarrassment, but Will was having none of it, so he pushed Mike backwards until his back hit the mattress. “Don’t worry, babe, it was cute.”

Babe. Mike had thought Will would only call him that in his dreams. But this wasn’t a dream. Mike watched as Will climbed on top of him, one leg on either side of his waist, and leaned down to kiss him, nice and slow. Mike ran his tongue along Will’s lower lip, and he let Mike in immediately. They continued like that for a few minutes until Will lifted Mike’s arms up so they were pinned above his head, and Mike quietly moaned as Will began to kiss down his neck. He smiled at the ceiling. Mike Wheeler loved Will Byers, and Will Byers loved Mike Wheeler. All was right with the world.

But Mike would have a lot to explain over Christmas.

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