#curtainless

[beansprean]

Breathing the same air…

Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Shot inside Stede's bed nook, from the foot of the bed, the entire scene washed in shades of blue. Bright moonlight from the windows slants across the bed and wall above.A line of decorative pillows divides the bed down the center. Stede is sitting up in bed on the side by the window, wearing a nightshirt with a frilly collar. Ed, wearing a plainer nightshirt with a low neckline, parts the curtains briefly to slide hesitantly under the covers on the other side. He glances over at Stede and asks, "We can do this, right? Sharing a bed." Stede smiles reassuringly and replies, "Of course! We even have this handy-dandy pillow barrier to keep us honest! I will keep hands to myself, I promise!" He holds his hands up above the covers as if to prove it. If it wasn't 1717 he'd be saying 'scout's honor'. 1b. Zoom in slightly as Ed lays down on his side facing the pillow barrier and closes his eyes, tucking the blankets up to his chin. He grins into the pillow and chuckles, "Alright, well. G'night." Stede lays down on his back, arms folded on his stomach over top of the shared blanket, and aims a besotted smile toward the pillow between them. "Goodnight, love." The light from the window slants over Stede's shoulders and the top of Ed's head, just above his eyes. 1c. Close up of Ed's face, head buried in the plush pillow and blanket pulled up to his nose. Eyes closed, he inhales deeply. 1d. Repeat. Ed exhales, an anxious crease forming between his brows, and opens his eyes to gaze in Stede's direction, eyes shining up beneath his lashes.

2a. Shot from Ed's POV: the barrier of pillows, Stede's hair just barely visible beyond, and the slanted curtainless windows with a gibbous moon shining brightly in a clear sky. Stede breathes in - the only sound in the room. 2ba. Small angled panel with a close up of Ed, eyes softening fondly as he exhales on cue. 2bb. Repeat, panel falling down the page as Ed closes his eyes and drifts away, the light from the window crawling up the wall. 2bc. Repeat, zoom in, the panel halting its descent as a shuffling sound alerts Ed and his eyes fly open. 2c. Wide shot of Ed from above, the blanket turning transparent so you can see his whole body, curled up on its side with hands tucked up by his chin and right knee hiked up, nightshirt rucked up to mid-thigh. There is nothing but shadow and continued audible movement on the other side of the pillow wall where Ed can't see. He freezes, wide-eyed in the darkness, face flushed as his heart pounds loudly in anticipation. 2da. Close up, beneath the covers, as Stede's bent knee crosses the barrier and presses against Ed's. 2db. Close up of Ed's face in profile, cheeks dark, mouth trembling, sweat beading on his forehead as he stares at the pillow in front of him. He thinks to himself, panicking, "I'm not gonna make it!" 2dc. Close up, beneath the covers, as Stede's left foot sneaks over to brush its toes against the top of Ed's right. Ed thinks again, "I'm not gonna make it!" 2dd. Close up, beneath the covers, as Stede's left hand slides over to tuck a pinkie over Ed's curled right hand. Ed thinks again, "I'm not gonna make it!" 2de. Repeat. Ed's right hand turns palm up, allowing Stede's pinky and ring finger to slide into its palm.

3a. Wide shot from Stede's direction, movement ceased. Ed's face appears, wide-eyed and flushed, as he lifts his head to peek slightly above the wall of pillows. Ed thinks, "...he settled?" 3b. Close up of their hands again beneath the covers, Stede's gone still. Ed curls up his fingers, linking his pointer and middle fingers between Stede's ring finger and pinkie. Ed inhales, and Stede exhales. 3c. Close up of Ed's face, tucked into the plush pillow with the blanket pulled up to his chin. He smiles, eyes warm and full of affection as he inhales deeply. 3d. Shot from above, blanket and pillow wall turned transparent so full bodies are visible. Ed is curled up on his side just as before, hair spilling over the pillow and eyes closed. Stede has sprawled onto his stomach, right leg out straight and left hiked up underneath the pillow wall to press against Ed's. His right arm is flopped above his head and his left has migrated over to Ed's side, fingers linked together. Stede is fully asleep, mouth wide open and drooling. Moonlight from the window slants up the wall, far above them now, and they exhale the same air together. /end ID

[futureplayboibunnie]

Aphrodesiacs Pt. 9

Miguel O’Hara x fem!spidey reader 

You and Miguel O’Hara were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?

horny and angsty? yes pls.

NSFW. 18+.

Miguel wasn't lying

He didn't let you leave your apartment for the entire weekend.

You definitely weren't complaining but he wore you out tirelessly for hours on end. He fucked you on every surface, christening each space for his own personal fulfiliment. He bent you over, pressed your knees together, threw you to the floor, sank to his knees- he did everything.

"Tell me you're mine. Scream it for me.”

“Always. I always have been.”

The way you said that stuck with Miguel a lot longer than he was expecting or comfortable with, it rolled off of your sweet tongue with an unbridled ease, like you were meant to say it.

“I always have been.” Miguel frowned as his brain placed further emphasis on what you said.

It started on Friday night and now it's Sunday night, he was half expecting you to kick him out but he was still here...lying in bed with you after an entire weekend of fucking each other senseless. It was the most soul-replenishing and fulfilling weekend he'd ever had. The night was starless, grey, and bleak clouds hung over the sky as if to reflect his mood, straying by the second, the rain flooded and pounded against the curtainless window and his senses. As he glanced over your frame, he saw the New York city skyline bean up yellow and red lights. The rumbling of thunder and the flashes of lightning stopped his thoughts in their tracks as he felt the soft inhale of your breath. Your naked body pressed into the mattress, the white sheets covering you in slivers.

Even when you were sleeping you looked so effortlessly beautiful. Miguel glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table, it was 2 AM. It was Monday tomorrow. That's when reality set in. His work, the pressure of his job, to control that many people and make sure the multiverse was safe. Miguel frowned at the thought. He wanted to spend the rest of his nights here with you, lying in bed with you and watching you breathe. But he loves being Spiderman, he was attached to what he had to do even if he didn't like it, he was so conditioned to doing his job he never once considered what a normal life could be like after what Gabriella- then you came along, destroying any semblance of peace he had left. You mumbled something unintelligible as you sprawled out even further. Your slender hands slid under the pillow, he kept staring at you like a lovesick fool, filled to the brim with anxiety and desperation as he quietly brooded. He felt like you caught him when he saw your eyelashes flutter. A lazy smile played on your lips. You definitely caught him.

“Go to sleep.” You muttered like you were scolding a small child, opening your eyes fully to see Miguel solemn and brooding.

“Can't.” He clipped, raking a hand through his already messy hair. Your mood changed exactly as he did, you flashed him a concerned look. Miguel always found a way to sabotage himself, to find the bad in every spot he was in and you were tired of it. You leaned down on your elbows, pursing your lips in confusion.

“Talk to me.” You say gently but all Miguel could hear was a sensual deity whispering sweet nothing.

Miguel was conflicted, a surge of sadness washed over and tightened his chest but he was very determined not to show it, his eyebrows creased in determination. Trying hard to keep the front he's manufactured over the course of many brutal and unforgiving years, being cold and distant was the only thing he knew to be even if it was you that was trying to pry it out of him. He couldn't just change overnight, not for you, not for anyone but part of him wanted to be better, to be better for you. Miguel's jaw ticked as he mumbled, attempting to conceal the fact that he wasn't particularly in a talkative mood- but you were nothing but persistent.

“Please?” Your hand went to reach out and lay on his chest but he stopped you before you could even touch him, he gripped your wrist and stared at you, his demeanor drastically changing. His grip was tightening and your eyes widened slightly, confused and concerned.

“Don't.” He said softly but stern enough that you got the message, his eyes were gleaming with a faint hue of red. You cocked an eyebrow at his behavior, after an unforgettable weekend, he was acting like you were a stranger- like all your use to him was sex, He was going to treat you like crap when you got to your normal life again. You frowned at the thought as you snatched your wrist back.

“What happens now?” You whisper woefully, a sad look ashening your beautiful face- the moonlight kissed your features perfectly.

"We go back to strangers, hating each other?” You say bitterly.

“What? No.” He shot you a look mixed with confusion and anger as if what you said was stupid.

“So we don't hate each other anymore, we fucked and we're gonna go back to work and act like nothing happened?”

“'I just- I don't know.” His answer didn't dampen your straying frustration at him, you pursed your lips in anger. mere idea.

“This was a one-time thing? So I'm just gonna go back to fucking other guys?” You raised an eyebrow at him, slightly peeved at the idea.

Miguel was internally devastated that you even thought to mention that, his body stilled with rage at the image of someone else touching you the way he did. It was as if his heart was being strangled by your bare aching fists. He wanted to grab you, flip you over and fuck you until his hips fracture but instead, he stayed brooding in silence, a storm brewing in his head.

Miguel's hand shot out and grabbed your cheeks, squishing them together as his talons dug into your skin slightly, you gave him an unimpressed look as he pulled your body closer to his. “No.” He said harshly, completely dismissing the idea of you going out and hooking up with other people like he had that sort of power over you. “Absolutely not.” Although you were pissed at him right now, your body was feeling entirely different, your pussy throbbed. You adjusted yourself, trying to stifle your arousal but it got ten times worse when your nipples brushed and hardened at the slightest contact of the mattress. Miguel was psychoanalyzing your every move, his gaze didn't soften at all, He liked that you were still in heat, even more so when you were trying to suppress it. You were confused when you saw him get up from the bed and then sit at the foot of it, his back facing you, looking more and more pissed with every passing moment.

"Come here.” he turned his head a fraction, enough for you to see slivers of red in his eye.

"Are you kidding?” You scoffed.

“Do I look like I'm asking?” His voice was mean and cold, a ruthless sharp vibration in your ears. Your body ached at the sound of his voice alone.

You were still bitter as you crossed your arms defensively. You rolled your eyes at him and decided to give into his unexplained whims, you got out of the bed with a huff and walked around it, Your naked body gleamed in the moonlight as you stood in front of him, Miguel's eyes were steely and din, unamused by your constant disrespect, asking the questions he didn't want to think about let alone answer, He hated that you brought up the idea of fucking other people and he hated the way he felt about it. This weekend was pleasure and pain combined- he made you feel euphoric, keeping you at that edge and then pummelling you. It was pain but it was perfect pain. Now you were pissing him off and he wasn't in the mood to be delicate and easy. He wouldn't give you the courtesy of telling you what he was going to do to you, he just wanted to do it.

You bit your lip as you stared down at him, he looked up at you like you were a dirty little whore acting unattainable- how ironic.

Miguel's palms traced over the dip of your waist softly and you pursed your lips slightly, acting unbothered. He hated it. we wanted to shock you, his right hand spanked your ass harshly, the sound ripped through the air and you gasped. You were his helpless little whore. Instead of talking about his feelings, he was gonna fuck it out of himself instead.

“Turn around and sit on my lap.” He demanded coldly, the look in his eyes was one of silent fury, His face sere slashes of rough arousal and boiling anger, Your eyes went from half-lidded annoyance to a bewildered shock, he liked it. you unhinged your jaw to say a smartass remark but he raised his eyebrow and that subdued you immediately, you turned your back to him and sat on his lap.

Your back facing his front, your ass nudging his already hard cock. Before you could even properly adjust, he hooked his hands under your thighs and pulled them up, your legs dangling off of his arms. a breathy moan escaped from your throat and Miguel's lips were pressed against your ear.

“I'm going to fuck you like this and you're gonna shut up and not bitch to me, understand cariño?” His hot breath landed on your ear, goosebumps rising at the shell of it. You hung your head back and it landed on his broad shoulder, moaning already.

“Yes, I understand.” You breathed softly. Miguel lowered your down on his cock, plunging into you and stretching you out until the his fangs licked and bit at your shoulder blade. “Ah- M-Mig-“ He pummelled into you roughly, bouncing you up and down as his fangs bit your shoulder blade.

“Run that fuckin mouth again, mention any other guy you fucked and I'll bully your cunt until you're fuckin sobbing, get the picture?” He groans raggedly, biting into your shoulder, specks of blood seeping out of your skin as he bounces you up and down.

“O-Okay! I get it...” You stuttered out, moaning like a bitch in heat as he plowed into you even harder, your slick running down your thighs. Your hands flew back and tangled in Miguel's hair, pulling hard and rubbing his neck.

“You're clenching so hard querida...my horny little bunny g'na make a mess on my cock over and over and over again.” He mumbled drunkenly in your ear, the sound of wet skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room. His words shot straight to your aching pussy, sweat dripping down the valley of your tits as Miguel kept manhandling you like a little fuckdoll. The tightening coil in your lower gut snapped as you came, dripping all down his cock and thighs. Throughout this past weekend, Maguel had taken you in any which way but he was way more harsh and pissed this time around. You withstood it all happily. As you clamped down harder Miguel's grip had gotten tighter, bouncing you up and down harder. with that one final thrust and clamp, it didn't take long for him to finish, his hot cum spilling out of you. His groans were your favorite kind of music, it echoed through the chasms of his throat.

But Miguel didn't stop, he kept bouncing you up and down, overstimulating you and fucking you through your Earth-shattering orgasm.

“Miguel- It's spilling out.” You warn meekly but your voice gets lost.

“I don't care. I'll be done with you when I want to be done with you. Now shut up and take it.” He grits between clenched teeth, his jaw setting in anger. He kept going and going, stretching you out, hitting that spot he'd hit so many times in the past two days, spot you never even knew existed before him. You milked him dry and he stilled, sparks lighting under your skin.

Miguel's grip on you softened, letting go of your legs, your feet now settling on the ground, his dick still plugged in you. Both of you were softly panting, your breaths mingling as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, mouth slack and lazy. Both of you were still full of conflicting emotions, but it still wasn't properly released. The passion clouded both of you and it made you feel hazy enough to forget about it during the collision of your bodies, but after as you got a chance to breathe- the thoughts and feelings came back up again. Your hair was wild and messy, your body limp in his arms. Miguel wrapped his arms around your waist as you nested between his legs, he softly kissed the shell of your ear but you weren't buying what he was selling. This sudden act of soft affection after he quite literally fucked you full of anger and pent-up frustration- there was something he wasn't telling you but you were afraid to find out.

An embittered look carved onto your face, and that's when you stood up and got off of him, Miguel raised an eyebrow at what you were doing. Your naked body shimmered as the pale moonlight outside lit you up, you were acting unbothered again and he really fucking hated it. “What are you thinking?” He murmured with restraint, leaning back on his hands.

"Gonna take a shower.” you said softly, but your tone was almost as if you were talking to an acquaintance, not a man you gave your entire body to.

You went into the bathroom of your room, turning the light on and then the shower. Miguel watched you intently as you moved swiftly, closing the door- like you were locking him out. A frown settled on his face. He heard you step into the shower, a faint smell of citrus shampoo traveling through the cracks. Miguel sat with himself for a few minutes and decided that he didn't want to stay here alone. Miguel stood up and opened the bathroom door, steam flowing into the bedroom and circulating at the tips of the ceiling.

The glass casing of the shower made for a perfect view of your slick and wet body. Your hands were doing their work shampooing your hair, your ass looked even more perfect. The soap flowed out of your hair with ease, your fingers squeezing out the excess. you heard a slight shift that made you whip your head around, it was Miguel. “Can I join you?” he says uncharacteristically gently.

“Sure.” You said with a lazy smile. He was pleased that you let him get close to you, he loved being near you any way he could, watching you like a lovesick fool. You looked so natural, so pretty.

Miguel slid open the glass door and stood next to you in the shower, in your element, and for a strange reason Miguel wanted to take care of you. You flashed him a bashful look, throwing your head as a signal for him to get under the stream, he did, letting the water flow to all corners of his body, strands of hair stuck to his forehead, he raked a hand through his hair to slick it back. You were gawking at Miguel, seeing how his muscles tensed under the shower, the water flowing down his abs effortlessly. You blinked up at him dumbly and Miguel caught onto It.

“Mind if I-?” Miguel was acting like a horny teenager, even though he's literally fucked you sideways, in an intimate setting like this- he was nervous. He squeezed some shampoo into his palm and rubbed his hands together, lathering it. You nodded softly, turning your back on him, you were still quite far away though. He didn't like that, Miguel pulled your hair back so you could stumble back a few steps, your ass making contact with his cock. Miguel didn't even let you be surprised about it when he started massaging your scalp. It buzzed your body alive, you hummed appreciatively as his big hands raked through your hair.

“Mmmm...I didn't think you'd ever be domestic.” you say with a raised eyebrow, looking slightly defensive and miguel just huffed.

“I'm not..” His tone was clippy and you didn't like it.

"Yeah..”

You shrug him off and go under the stream, twisting your hair so the soap suds and water drain out of it, you didn't give his the privilege of eye contact. You couldn't deny that you were a little sad that once morning rolled around, he would leave and you would go back to working at HQ, ignoring each other.

-

next chapter is gonna be the last!

-

taglist (giggles): @thel0velykey190 @scaleniusrm @drefear r @imkikibtw @tbeanie3 @spxctorsslxt @saturnknows @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick k @mafer383 @i-feel-violated @crowleysthings @avatar-lover @l3laze @wyvernnest @rowboatweeb @schniti-is-in-the-house ri @d1lf-loverrr @iamv1n @ro99se @nxrdamp @mrssabinecallas @jesmynsjoys @xiylio @leahnicole1219 @reine-sans @tallmanlover @neverlandlostchild @axerrri @frieschan @plzfeedmebread @rorel1a @z0mbiekat @rey26 @stunkbiggu @honeycovered-bandaids @hearttjason @brittney69 @thyroidissues @4imhry @pinkliquor @realalpacorn @dr-skazka @simoniithehomii @aisyakirmann @deezisnotreal @synamonthy @bread6069 @iite-cool @thedevax @soymiguelsesposa @heartthrobinsblog @siidmm @queerponcho @luvingmyships @dhollandhs @kehlanilopez @lyrasdrawer

(TUMBLR WONT LET ME TAG ANY OTHER PEOPLE UGHH)

[supernovafics]

a lazy morning with boyfriend!steve (18+)

wc: 964

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

it was a soft stroke against your cheek and a featherlight kiss against your forehead that pulled you from your sleep.

your eyes fluttered open and you saw steve, who had the sweetest smile on his face. you would’ve been at least a little annoyed at him for waking you up right then, at a time that you knew was way too early, if it weren’t for that smile.

the soft glow of the early morning sun poured through the curtainless windows in his bedroom. if it hadn’t been steve waking you up right then, you knew that in a couple of minutes it would’ve been the sun when it hit his bed almost too perfectly. you’d much rather have a wake up call from your boyfriend than the sunlight that felt incessant this early in the morning. 

you let out a soft groan and pulled the blanket over your heads, enveloping you both in some darkness. “i really need to get you some curtains.” 

“you mean us. you need to get us some curtains.” 

“i technically don’t live here.” 

your boyfriend shifted closer to you, lips brushing against your forehead once again. “yet.”

it was hard to keep track of the nights you’d spent here at his apartment over the last year; you’d lost count after the first few months. it was something that definitely happened more often than not and you practically were already a permanent part of it; your presence lingered even when you weren’t there, and you loved the moments where your nights and mornings were spent with steve. but it was hard to make the official leap into making the place “ours” instead of simply just his. 

because, logically, it was too soon; you two had barely been together a year. but it also felt so weirdly right, and there was a part of you that wanted to throw practicality out of the window and lean so heavily into that “rightness.”

you buried your face in his neck and let out a soft hum. “soon.”

“soon sounds really good,” steve hummed back as an arm circled around your waist and pulled you closer. you didn’t waste a second to tangle your legs with his and wrap yourself around him, your hand beginning to trace mindless circles against the bare skin of his back. 

you were wearing his t-shirt and yours was somewhere on his bedroom floor, thrown there by him after he hurriedly pulled it off of you last night. and steve knew that you’d forget about it and it’d probably stay there for at least the next few days, but he didn’t mind that in the slightest.   

he loved finding the random little pieces of “you” that were littered around the small apartment— a book that you finished reading but forgot to take home, cassettes of some of your favorite albums that now sat on his shelf, a couple pairs of your underwear and so many of your socks that somehow ended up in his laundry.

there was a part of you that wanted to lull yourself back to sleep for at least an hour or two longer, arms and legs wrapped around steve and face buried in his neck; an unconventionally comfortable position. but then there was something else that you wanted to do on this early sunday morning where neither of you had anywhere important to be anytime soon. 

your lips found the underside of his jaw, pressing a soft kiss against the stubbly skin. “need you.”

the two words practically vibrated his skin and the low groan he let out was immediate. his hand snaked underneath your, his, shirt and started trailing up, up, up until it was circling your breast and his thumb was brushing against your nipple. 

“please, stevie,” you whispered, and hearing how needy you sounded made him want to immediately fold. 

steve nodded, it was the only response he could give you in that moment. his other hand found your chin and tilted your face upward, so that he could press a kiss to your lips. 

and from there it was a mix of tangled limbs beneath the sheets and warm mouths against soft skin. the movements were rushed but also slow and languid. steve made quick work of pushing your underwear down your legs and you did the same with his boxers, but the kisses you shared were the opposite; they were attentive and sweet. you took your time sucking on a certain spot on his neck and leaving a pretty little mark, and he slowly moved his mouth against yours, wanting to savor it all. 

“need you inside,” you whined against his lips. 

“mhm, i know, honey,” he whispered as he grabbed your leg to hook it over his bare hip. he squeezed your thigh tightly before pushing home inside of you with one slow movement. 

the pretty noises you let out were swallowed by him before you were burying your face in his shoulder and then deep into his neck, your soft moans sounding like sweet music to his ears. 

probably from one of the first few moments you two met, steve knew that he wanted this forever. he was good at that; falling hard, falling fast. 

he wanted to always fall asleep with you and wake up next to you, fuck you every early morning; even on the days where one or both of you had places to be. he wanted his space to become yours too. but, he was also okay with waiting until you were fully ready to take that next step. 

and it would be next week, when you two were having another moment just like this one, that you finally listened completely to your heart instead of your head and told him yes.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Edwin Payne and Charles Rowland (Charles-Didn't-Know-They-Were-Dating-AU)

Edwin looks at Charles and he hears Charles talking earlier. He hears Charles saying all of those things about how he's just as bad as Brad and Hunter, that he's going to end up just like his father, that he's going to hurt whoever he loves, that Edwin should just go fall in love with someone else, as if there has ever been anyone else, as if anyone could ever be anything more than a candle compared to the sun that is Charles Rowland.

Charles Rowland is not rot. He is nothing but the light.

Edwin needs him to know that. Edwin needs Charles to know that he is loved. He needs Charles to know that he has always only ever been the sunrise through a curtainless window, shedding golden spring light over a world just beginning to wake.

-aletterinthenameofsanity, where was my fault (in loving you with my whole heart)

She says I smell like safety and home

I named both of her eyes "Forever" and "Please don't go"

I could be a morning sunrise all the time, all the time yeah

This could be good, this could be good

And I can't change, even if I tried

Even if I wanted to

Love is patient, love is kind

-Mary Lambert, She Keeps Me Warm

@tragedy-machine @idliketobeatree @wordsinhaled @nix-nihili @anything-thats-rock-and-roll

@tumblerislovetumblerislife @plentyghosts @dear-monday @deadb0ydetectives @sparklypurplefool

@immacaria @mostly-functional @arisprite @wikipediagreen

@catboy-cabin @frogsondeckchairs @shadowflame84 @adventures-in-mangaland

@spacegirlsgang @petesdragon @mellxncollie

[aha-my-villainous-thoughts]

Hey beautiful babies 💙 happy V day, here's a smitten starlit Ed, another gift to a dear mutual 💙

When Ed looks back at Stede, he pauses, exhales audibly and sends Stede a soft smile. Watches him as he runs his hands over Stede’s thighs, kneads his thumbs into the hot, sensitive skin at his groin, tilts his head a little to the side.

Stede has to look like a complete mess—he knows his hair must be disheveled, can see the thick streaks of ejaculate on his belly shine in the silvery light. But Ed is a true vision, backlit by the moonshine coming though the yet curtainless windows (six months), and need still buzzes through Stede’s veins despite the mind-blowing orgasm Ed just coaxed out of him.

💙

Read Five Birthdays and a Funeral by @bizarrelittlemew for your own wellbeing 😘💋

Uncensored version going up on Twitter, and in the fic in due course too 💙

[tzatairovic]

The unofficial tz bookclub

August 2024 books:

“David is a young American expatriate who has just proposed marriage to his girlfriend, Hella. While she is away on a trip, David meets a bartender named Giovanni to whom he is drawn in spite of himself. Soon the two are spending the night in Giovanni’s curtainless room, which he keeps dark to protect their privacy. But Hella’s return to Paris brings the affair to a crisis, one that rapidly spirals into tragedy.

David struggles for self-knowledge during one long, dark night—“the night which is leading me to the most terrible morning of my life.” With a sharp, probing imagination, James Baldwin's now-classic narrative delves into the mystery of loving and creates a deeply moving story of death and passion that reveals the unspoken complexities of the human heart.”

“For Josh Harper, being in show-business means everything he ever wanted - money, fame, a beautiful wife, and a lead role on the London stage. For Stephen C. McQueen, it means a disastrous career playing passers-by and dead people.

Stephen is stuck with an unfortunate name, a hopeless agent, a daughter he barely knows, and a job as understudy to Josh Harper, the 12th Sexiest Man in the World. And when Stephen falls in love with Josh's clever, funny wife Nora, things get even more difficult.

But might there yet be a way for Stephen to get his Big Break?”

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part six.

-

Genesis enters Sephiroth's room like he owns the place, which is probably a good thing, because the man the room actually belongs to has no idea what's even in there.

As it turns out, not much.

It's not small, exactly, for a single room apartment with a kitchenette and a bathroom it's actually really spacious! It even has two nice big windows! But it's… spartan. There's a bed, a desk, and the tiniest of kitchen tables. The only thing that could maybe, imaginatively, be called decoration is the stand on which sits Sephiroth's ridiculously long sword. And… that's it.

"Ah, home sweet home," Genesis says, shaking his head and tutting at him. "You, my friend, are in desperate need of colour in your life."

Well - he doesn't disagree! Everything in the room is drab gunmetal grey, mass-produced and sad. Even the curtainless windows just look depressing. And the Feng Shui of the place is awful. Sephiroth's bed is near the door, and you need to go around it to the bathroom, and his desk is facing the corner! The flow of energy is all over the place!

And okay, maybe Feng Shui isn't a thing here - but still! There should be some plants, at least! Some artwork maybe! A carpet or two? The bed doesn't even have a duvet! And there's more than enough room for a couch here, maybe even two. Doesn't Sephiroth ever have people over?

Looking at Genesis, rummaging through the cupboards and making faces at the lack of actual cups there… probably not. Because it seriously looks like Sephiroth had precisely one of everything. One tea mug, one glass, one plate, one bowl and one of each utensils. And no pots and pans. Microwave and electric kettle, and that's it.

If it turns out that Sephiroth only just has instant noodles in his cupboard…

Genesis compromises by using the mug and the water glass to make tea, and the Peak Lord of Qing Jing Peak winces at the brusque thoughtless scalding of the poor tea in its teabags.

"Don't make faces at me - you're the one who doesn't have cups," Genesis says with a sniff and carries the cups to the kitchen table. It's round, metallic, and the chairs look utterly uncomfortable. "Come on, tell me everything. Unburden your tale of woe."

Currently his biggest woe is the veritable black hole of Feng Shui that's Sephiroth's room and he'd like nothing more than to rearrange everything. Right after raiding the wardrobe to see if the man owns a single functional shirt.

Giving Genesis' turtleneck a bitter glance, he goes to sit down. Genesis is cursed with the Final Fantasy Buckles too, but he's got a shirt. Life is utterly unfair.

"Well?" Genesis asks, pushing the tea glass over the metal table. It rattles. "What happened at the lab?"

Making a face, he takes the glass. The tea smells strongly of this will taste awful. "I already told you. Three times the maximum dose."

"So you don't remember?" Genesis asks, perceptively.

Well, obviously not. Sephiroth died, and by the time he appeared, his body was already patched up. It's really very similar to how he landed in Shen Qingqiu. Mako injection instead of Qi deviation, but from what he remembers of FFVII… isn't Mako also energy? Life blood of the planet, condensed. Which was being injected into people.

He… really needs to figure out what that means in the framework of cultivation. If anything, It might be applicable - energy is energy. Or it might be just magic.

"The winds of fate have blown a mighty storm your way, then," Genesis says, taking a sip of tea. He doesn't look like he likes it.

Giving the man a slight shake of Sephiroth's head, he hums. "I feel fine," he says, feeling like a broken record. It'd really be better if the man just left, so that he could sort himself out. And then the room. And then the wardrobe. And then investigate if the laptop would be just as disappointing as the phone has been. "I just need… a break. To recover." Hint, hint!

Genesis stares at him blankly and puts the mug down with a sharp noise. "Well, now I know it's a disaster! Sephiroth himself, asking for a break? Stop the presses, the narrative has gone completely off the rails!"

Leaning back a little, he covers his frustration by taking a drink of Sephiroth's tea and then covering his cough in a displeased hum. Ugh, it's just as bad as he thought it would be. "I can't take a break?" he asks resentfully.

"No, no, of course no one says you can't! Except maybe professor Hojo, but we shall ignore him for the time being," Genesis says quickly and leans forward. "But, Sephiroth, when have you ever taken a break?"

… Depressing! Why is the scary epic Big Bad so depressing?! That's not how it should be! Isn't he supposed to be off-the-rails, scenery-chewing, scene-stealing thing of badassery? One of the most iconic villains of video game history?! With the bombastic theme and the crazy eyes?! Hello?! Why is he so sad?!

Genesis watches him for a moment and then leans forward. "Give me your PHS."

"What?"

"Your PHS," Genesis says impatiently, making a gimme gesture at Sephiroth's pocket. "Give it to me."

".... Why?" he asks suspiciously, putting a protective hand over it. It's where Sephiroth's phone is.

"So that I can send Lazard your appeal for time off! Goddess knows you won't do it yourself - the moment I turn my back you'll probably be heading off to a training mission or something," Genesis says pointedly. "So give."

But… it's his phone now…

"I'll leave you to mope in peace if you do," Genesis bargains, rolling his eyes. "You'll have all the time in the world to lick your wounds and figure out how to cover it up so that no one will be the wiser, I promise. Once I get you some actual time off."

Genesis was - would be - the main villain in Crisis Core. Can he trust the man with Sephiroth's phone? The man looks keen and sincere, but he also looks like he's up to something. And also onto him, which is not great!

Ah, he's really messing this up, without a System to scream at him about what's OOC and what isn't, huh.

Genesis wiggles his fingers, insistent.

… Some time to himself would be great, though. And free time would mean that he wouldn't have to deal with missions just yet. That… could only be good. Maybe there's some honour between villains? It was a big theme in Crisis Core, honour.

"Don't do anything weird with it," he says finally and hands Sephiroth's flip phone over. 

"Would I do such a thing?" Genesis asks, huffing in offence and snatches the phone right up. He doesn't even wait for a reply, already typing away quickly and with gleeful flourish.

Giving the man a suspicious look over his glass of horrible tea, the transmigrator can only hope he wouldn't regret this.

The message Genesis sends to the Director of SOLDIER is decently professional, if a bit presumptuous. It goes along the lines of, "On account of my recent incident in the Shinra Medical, I will be taking some time off for personal reasons," and it's barely even a request, more a demand. But it gets Sephiroth the time off he needs, and promptly, at that - whole three days of it, too! It's most appreciated.

The mailing lists Genesis joins, however, aren't.

-

SY at S: damn bitch, you live like this?

[diejager]

End of Scene Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, murder, death, blood and gore, sadism, Dark!reader, dark!Ghost, stabbing, stalking, Ghostface!reader, home invasion,

Part 4

Slinking from shadow to shadow, you stalked the backdrop of a familiar house, eyes wandering over it’s baby blue walls and curtainless, wide windows, showing the world their private life. Every argument, every fit and every smile were on show, none hidden from prying eyes or dangerous attention. It was practically calling your name, asking - no - it was begging you to do something about it, to give this obnoxious and arrogant neighbourhood something to fear and watch out for. It was waiting for someone to humble this so-called “safest neighbourhood in the world”, no security camera and no patrolling police. It was just taunting you, especially when you hated the owner of this house. 

Abigail; sweet, sweet Abigail was tonight’s squealing pig. She was so whiny, always complaining about how her life was so hard when she lived off her parent’s money, in the richest part of the city and could afford whatever she wanted. She was a spoiled brat, spoiled rotten to the core from what you’d come to learn through a long month of observation. You didn’t liked brats, much less spoiled ones, Simon taught you to hate them, he whispered to you at night about how he would beat them to a pulp. You learned to learned to put them in their place.

And she was so easy —too easy. She followed the same routine, her nights spent drinking until all she could do was waddle to her bed, trying and sometimes failing to reach her bed and just laying on her floor. Abigail was at her weakest in a drunken stupor, bumbling and stammering as she spoke when you called, watching as your raspy voice confused her, but the best moment was meeting her in the morning, her paranoid glances around her and awkward gait from her pounding hangover. While she was fun to spook, you were growing tired of watching the same thing over and over again, she wasn’t what you were looking for anymore and soon, you’d have to move on, find another obsession. It was time to end this story. 

You crouched outside her window, licking your lips in anticipation, you waited for her to stumble into the kitchen, searching for her new bottle of aged wine that you caught her buy for over two hundred. Seeing you moment, you crawled through the open window that she always left open for better air circulation, stalking past the kitchen entrance and hiding away in her closet. You had to bite your tongue to keep your excited giggle from slipping, enjoying her ambling through the small gap in the door, she placed her wine glass and bottle, and ungracefully dropped down on her couch, hissing about her back pain. 

You stared with bated breath, gazing at her while she took sip after sip, throwing herself deeper in the ground with how fast the alcohol was getting to her head. You huffed, pushing open the closet door without a sound and sliding behind her. She was too drunk to be aware of her immediate surrounding, a sloppy and annoying person that you were about to… bring to the limelight with your art. Knife in hand, you swiped at her neck with your free hand, gripping her throat to pull her back, throwing her to the ground with little care while she wailed and begged. 

“Please! Please! What do you want?! I’ll give you anything! Anything!!”

You straddled the back of her thighs, ignoring her tearful screams in favour of admiring her helpless figure, too weak to fight you off and too drunk to do anything. 

“Anything I want, yeah?” You cackled, watching her nod and gurgle out weeps, “I want your life then.”

Raising your knife, a clean and well-kept buck knife that Simon got you, you took a shuddering breath, scenting her terror before you swung down, sinking it deep into her back. You appreciated her choked scream and the wet squelch of your stab, blood pooled from her wound when you pulled out, spraying you in red when you stabbed her once more. You killed with passion, a final act of acknowledgment to a person you grew to know, an integral part of your stories. You sunk your knife into her again, and again, and again, flicking blood all over you and around you, staining the furniture and walls with flakes of red and the cashmere carpet of hers with a pool of blood. 

You listened to her choke on her blood, her chin painted a bright red and eyes blinking slowly, you sat back on your haunches, head lolling back with a heavy, but satisfied sigh. Slowly reaching into your jacket, you pulled out your camera and switched it on, quickly admiring the previous pictures you took with prior actors. Sliding the knife back into it’s sheath, you kneeled forward, gloved hand harshly grasping at the roots of her bleached hair and propped her up for a selfie, her body still warm under you and mouth dripping blood. Smiling behind the mask, you took a few pictures, the shutter clicking loudly in your ears with the bright and blinding flash of the lights, and dropped Abigail, her head slamming roughly with a wet splash on the carpet. 

You flipped through the shots, admiring your bloody work with a proud hum, unbothered by her dying rasp and last wheeze. You secured your camera in the pocket you sewed in your jacket and stared at your piggy one last time before you’d leave the closing scene of your story to reporters and authorities to write and critique. You hummed a small lullaby, looking over the dirtied walls and smeared floor, you turned to the window you crawled in from. Then your phone shook, vibrating in your coat, and in a moment of curiosity, too happy to be mad that you were interrupted in your moment you looked at the caller name. It was Simon!

“Hi, Si,” you grinned, a higher pitch in your tone despite the modulator’s incapability of catching it.

“ ‘ello, kit,” his reply was slow, lazy in a way, unlike your giddy one, “Where are you?”

You looked around the room and open hallway, it’d be useless to lie to him when you answered him with the voice changer on, and lying to him would disappoint him. You hated disappointing Simon, how that small, but warm gleam in his eyes would turn cold and blank, showing how much he was displeased with your acts and decision. 

“Abigail’s, just finished.”

You caught a proud rumble - more so a growl - from his side and clothes shifting as he moved from, what you presumed, his bed. 

“At piggy’s? Sloppy, kit, what if there are cameras?”

You laughed, a loud, boisterous and belly chuckle.

“You know me, Si. You didn’t teach me to be sloppy, I know what I’m doing.”

“Good, do me proud and I’ll fuck you good when ’m home, yeah?”

Part6

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @@cod-z @sweetnanah @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[fancyfade]

dang new 52 dick is like. really daring people to find out he's nightwing. leaving his costume on the floor, opening the door for guests when he hasn't put his glove away, changing in front of his curtainless window.

like. I know that its comics, and the writer won't let people notice unless they want to (like when Tim left a robin something out and his neighbors thought he was cheating on bernard with robin). but like. jeez dick. buy some curtains.

[collectivecloseness]

11 with whatever stranger things character works best ig. 11 nearly *just* makes it but is always left out, ones that don’t quite make it onto some lists are always interesting, like 6 or 51, or the last 100 or something lol

Babes... the fact 11 is literally Nobody by Mitski... the lonely left out one 😭 Anyway this is poor Stevie fr 😭😭

(Cw: this fic is about Steve’s mental health after dealing with all the upside down trauma the past few years)

Steve Harrington x reader

Steve doesn’t sigh, he doesn’t groan, he just doesn’t make a sound when he finally wakes up. He’d fallen back asleep a couple of times after opening his eyes, just hoping to shorten the day and stay somewhere peaceful a moment longer, but his body couldn’t take anymore sleep. He was awake now.

There was no work today. No alarm to make sure he could be autonomous and run on autopilot to brush his teeth and rush to the car in yesterday’s work clothes, and no radio call from one of the kids in danger giving him the boost of adrenaline to get up either.

But tapping his fingers on his plain grey quilt, Steve couldn’t handle the realisation he’d be alone with his thoughts right now if he didn’t get up.

Pushing himself with a sigh, Steve winces as his feet hit the cold fooorboards, slumping over to put some black socks on first, before he finds a shirt to throw over his head. He looks down to his sweatpants, but suddenly the thought of changing out of them, and into something else made Steve’s head ache and feel faint at the same time. So he didn’t care about wearing what he’d worn to bed downstairs as he dragged himself to the living room.

Steve was used to being alone in this house. His parents basically treated the place he grew up in as a holiday home, rather than a home, being there around a weekend every six weeks, if they were ever that scheduled. He never knew when they were coming back.

Steve basically owned the house now, as the sole person who actually lived there. He’d turn his parents room into a spare room, maybe have Robin as a roommate, he knew she wanted to move out away from her parents, but even mentioning it to his mom, his dad overheard him over the phone and he had yells and disappointed chidings of how selfish and inconsiderate he was assaulted down the speaker. ‘They still lived there!’ They said, although they hardly ever turned up to prove their point.

At least people visited, even if Steve couldn’t truly make the house his home yet, no decorating of his own. But being alone here, it at least made his house the designated hang out zone. It gave him good memories here. You visited a lot, and Steve was so grateful to have you as a partner. He wondered what you were up to today...

There was nothing for Steve to do here. Definitely not alone. And he definitely couldn’t risk messing something up, and his parents deciding to drop in from the other side of the country. But standing at the base of the stairs, looking around at his open, and empty home, something vile and sickening clawed at his chest, trying to scrape up his throat, split open his head from the inside. Steve went straight to the television, his chest in pain enough it made Steve flinch, turning the tv onto some random channel, any, just turning it up. A sitcom being on air, and the noise of a family all chatting together made Steve feel less alone.

Steve nearly sprinted to all the windows in the house, opening them up so he could hear noise from the outside, the things happening in the real world. He opened up the curtainless window of his kitchen, and he stood there a moment, the one further away from the tv, as he let the world go by. The wind stroked comfortingly through Steve’s brown hair, from the open panel at the top of the glass, where he was. Steve closed his eyes, letting the touch encouragingly pass. But soon there was another reason he wanted his eyes closed, because it was beginning to get harder to look outside.

He listened to cars honking hello to each other, teenagers chatting to their friends on the way to school, parents repeating road safety with their eager kids. Pushchair wheels rolling and dogs yipping and leaf blowers working. Everyone talking. In their own conversations, taking part in lives separate to the others they pass by without even noticing them, but everyone out there at least has something in common. Something Steve envied and yearned, but just could not find it in himself to seek at this moment.

The wind was cooler now. Biting him. Not meant for him. Everyone had someone else around, shielding each other from nature’s course, holding onto each other to avoid puddles, stepping away from the leaves blowing near them, or in one case, jumping on them themselves.

Steve retreated to his television. He didn’t know this family in the show, he wasn’t even watching, his eyes on the tv, but unfocused and mind not taking any of the images in. He just wanted them to keep talking.

As soon as he’d sat down, Steve realised he probably should have grabbed something from the kitchen to eat. And now he was thinking about it, his stomach churned in hunger. He knew he was hungry, even if it was the type of hunger that made you feel nauseous. But Steve had already sat down. And standing up again, just to get himself some food, just could not be prioritised enough for Steve to motivate himself to get his legs to move.

All Steve wants is somebody. Somebody near him right now. Somebody to be with him. He was a changed man after his first encounter with the upside down those few years ago. Battling creatures with his baseball bat, his ex and her new guy, and learning all about the horrible world underneath this one. Becoming the protector of others and the perpetual and never ending punching bag at the same time.

He looped it all in with the upside down, all these events, the Russians torturing him, what happened with Nancy, the possible state of his future, his relationship with his parents, almost losing the people he loves even though he always puts himself on the line first he just!!- What else can he do?!! And why isn’t him throwing himself into every danger to protect the people who actually deserve to be protected ever enough?!

Why do people still get hurt, when Steve will always let himself get hurt for them!?

Steve puts his head into his hands, his elbows digging into his thighs but he just pushes them in harder, his bitten nails barely doing damage as he scrapes them into his head whilst he’s burying his eyes. “Shut up shut up shut up.” Steve growls softly to himself, knowing he wasn’t helping anything.

He was a coward.

He acted strong, in front of the others. Proud to always be ‘the’ badass around the kids, especially Dustin. And he always headed straight on for danger if that would mean it helped the others. But he was so changed when it was just him now. He wasn’t the same person before; and he was glad, he’d been an asshole - something Steve winces into his hand at, as he remembers - but he’s not like he used to be.

He used to be able to get through his nightmares about his childhood. He used to come home and just chill. Enjoy the house to himself, and throw parties. He never felt like this until he went through all that trauma, as you’d promised him it was. He never felt so troubled, so down, so exhausted, so scared, so lonely. So just everything all at once.

He knows it’s not up to anybody to save him, he knows that no one can. Or at least, he thinks that, sometimes. Even though Steve sometimes feels like screaming, begging you to save him, even at the moments he’s least in danger, just in his own home. Even with you right there holding him. Not actually risking his life like he’s done so many times, like he’s made you cry over, watching him be so selfless, and brave, and hurt, again and again. Needing you to help save him, after it all too. But part of him feels like a coward for wanting it. The other half remembers all your loving words, all of them, not one is ever forgotten by Steve, and he’s able to regain control over those thoughts again most times he slaves over this.

Before you, there would have been no one to save Steve first, no one he was most important to, during all these life threatening events. Steve almost allowed himself to be okay with the thought no one would save him, even as he was first to throw himself in head first if it meant protecting his friends. Everyone had someone else. Someone they’d check up on first. Steve was glad he had you. Even when you promised him he wasn’t just your first choice to save, that others would pick him too. Even that helped Steve. Not just you being there, but you, you being the one to be his partner, you who just always knows how to help him.

All he wanted was to feel alright. Not great, just alright. Something he always used to take for granted. Something he can start to feel again, whenever he’s with you, or surrounded by his loved ones. ...Steve’s lips twisted up, his head tilting slightly as it came out of his hands. Why was that something so hard, for him to be able to feel alright? Why was his life like that?

But you at least told him he wasn’t a coward. You got through it with him, you let him be changed even when he wasn’t alone, you-

Steve’s head shot up as he heard the key in the door. And his heart froze like a cool zap in his chest, as he prayed inside his head to let it be you. That you somehow knew he needed you today. That you were coming for him, like you always did.

And Steve felt relief pour through his body so hard, his frozen fingers and toes flooded with such warmth, allowing him to actually feel able to move his muscles, as he reached his arms out for you from where he was sat on the couch, as you made eye contact with him from where you’d hung your coat, your own eyes filled immediately with your knowledge.

“Oh... Oh baby.”

You spoke so softly. Steve loved your voice. He kept his arms open as you rushed over, sitting by him on the couch and immediately pulling Steve into your arms with a big breath. Steve melting his face into your collarbone, as he let himself listen to your breath, your heartbeat, the creak of your trousers against his couch, and he felt whole not being alone at all anymore.

Steve is happy to listen for moments longer, his brown messy hair nestling into the crook of your neck, as he smooths his cheek over your warm skin. He can smell the body wash he uses when he showers at yours. His hands crawl up to hold you by the side of your chest softly. Steve happy to start to listen to the beat of your heart, and see if his will follow rhythm, like it does when he pays attention to it.

But you start speaking again. At least, filling his home with your voice. “Stevie darling. I’m here. You’re okay Steve.” You kiss his soft hair, stroking his head, and Steve leans into your touch. “You’re okay. I’m staying with you today.” You promise, knowing he likes when you do so, and when you plan it for the rest of his day.

Steve nods, letting you know he heard you, and he’s thankful, but a big sigh leaves his lungs, tickling hot against your collar, as he thinks, at least now while in a safety bubble of your warm hold, having wrapped your arms and legs, all of you safely around him.

Whether he’s been big or small, tough or soft, he’s still never good enough, still nobody wanted him. He was a douchey smartass, then a loser dumbass, and he wasn’t liked as either of those - never wanted, Steve thinks. Until you.

His thoughts still wandering around those paths, as he starts to let you take over for him this morning. He’s got to remind himself those thoughts he has just aren’t true, during spirals like this. You do want him. You, his best friend, his other friends, the kids, Joyce, Hopper, hell even his parents.

He is wanted.

Steve’s just got to remember it even in his lonely times. It doesn’t matter whether he’s brave and macho, or a dorky himbo, he’s still him, and he’s still loved by somebody. By multiple somebodies. And turning his head, peering his soft brown eyes up into your own, Steve constantly knows you really love him.

Steve leans his hand up, not even thinking about how his body no longer feels tired or achy anymore, just brushing your hair away behind your ears so he can see more of your perfect face, and also touch your soft hair.

“Good morning.” He speaks up, smiling crookedly and smally at you, but Steve feels relieved and wondrous, hearing his own voice in his big house.

“Good morning Steve.” You smile down at him. And God are Steve’s eyes sparkly as they look mesmerised at you. You moving to stroke Steve’s puffy brown hair, as his longer fingers still caress over your own. You smile, and Steve smiles back. No ache in his heart, his thoughts just full of all he can do with you today now his house is not so empty, or you can even leave the house together, if he chooses that he wants to. And that small other aware part of his thoughts, so happy and thankful that in this moment, that you are here with him.

Even though Steve can tell you know he was sad. That he was going through it a bit again. He’s obviously much better now he’s practically laying across your lap, his toned body fitting perfectly in your arms, and his head tucked warmly at the bottom of your chest, looking up at how you peer down at him, holding him, cradling your boyfriend safely, and Steve brings his hands to rest on your forearms, smiling as he swallows in his throat, relaxing in a position Steve loves.

Steve’s not asking you to fix him, he knows it��s not as simple as that, and he knows you don’t need any pressure. You two are working on it all, together. Both your issues, both your needs, and importantly, your wants. Steve so happy to be able to share his wants with you just as much as his needs, and have you take care of each other’s, of each other. Steve’s not asking for you to fix him, instead he’s licking his dry lips, and with a small and endearing smile, asks “Can I have my kiss now?”

His adoring smile only growing as you gleefully and slowly move in, pressing your warm lips against his own. Giving Steve the one thing he needed to start feeling properly alright again. Allowing Steve to hold your face close, as you both chuckle softly into each other’s mouths, the small sound so audible to Steve with how close you both are. As you happily, and so open heartedly, honestly, lovingly, both share a sweet kiss, for the start of his better day.

[treespen]

The windows were curtainless, and the yellow moonlight, flooding in through the diamond panes, enabled one to see even colours, whilst it softened the wealth of dust which lay over all and disguised in some measure the ravages of time and the moth. My lamp seemed to be of little effect in the brilliant moonlight, but I was glad to have it with me, for there was a dread loneliness in the place which chilled my heart and made my nerves tremble. Still, it was better than living alone in the rooms which I had come to hate from the presence of the Count, and after trying a little to school my nerves, I found a soft quietude come over me. 

I absolutely adore Jonathan's descriptions of the night scenes, illuminated by the moonlight, amid his wrecked nerves.

The moonlight (old, natural) being brighter than his lamp (new, artificial) is such a nice touch.

[alicewritingstories]

I finally started writing the fic I planned based on a combination of two of @kikker-oma's Whumptober arts!

First, Day 3: Make it stop/Empty Room + Moon.

They had been in this new Hyrule for two days and the overwhelming impression was simply that it was huge. Time wasn't sure how they could even begin to track down black-blooded monsters or this era's hero.

At least they had been able to get some directions at the odd horse-crested tent they had encountered earlier that day: the Dueling Peaks Stable, the man at the desk had proudly informed them. Another nearby whose entire job was apparently to give directions had pointed them to Kakariko Village just up the road, tucked away in the mountains.

This Hyrule was huge. By the time they trudged wearily into the village, night was falling. They treated themselves to beds in the inn, filling it to the point where Time ended up in his own tiny room in the attic. The innkeeper apologized as she put fresh blankets on the bed, but Time shook his head with a smile. "It's far better than many places I've slept," he said. "Thank you."

They ate dinner together - it was Time's turn to cook and he grilled some fish at the communal cooking fire, trying not to char them for once - then retired to bed early. Apparently this era's Impa was the village elder. In the morning, they would try to get an audience with her and find out more about this world.

Time removed his armor and flopped down on the bed, looking out of the curtainless window. The village was entirely surrounded by the odd, tall pillar-like mountains, but he could see some stars gleaming above the peaks. Below, he could hear the voices of his boys as they settled for bed and he smiled, his eyelid drooping wearily. Perhaps soon their group of eight would be nine. He wondered what the new hero would be like. A soldier like Warriors? They'd not seen much sign of organized armies. In this huge, sparse realm, he was probably a wanderer like Wind or Hyrule.

As he fell asleep, Time hoped he'd meet him soon.

He woke suddenly and his eye fell first on the window.

And on the moon glaring down from over the mountains.

It was blood-red.

Time bolted upright in bed, staring up at the moon, gasping for breath. This couldn't be real. He was dreaming. He had to be.

Still struggling for air, he raised a hand to pinch his arm. The sharp pain changed nothing, so he did it again, harder.

The moon above was still red.

Time felt like a hand was squeezing his throat. He twisted aside, swinging his legs off the bed and turning his back to the window, struggling to breathe, frozen as his mind stuttered.

He had to move.

You're not there.

He was frozen in place.

He could feel the seconds running by.

Where was his ocarina?

This village… They were all…

There's no face, it's not the same, it's not, it's not…

He stared at the red light on the floor.

He had to reach his boys before…

He had to…

Why can't I move?

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 4k words

warnings: explicit language, some angst

summary: somehow it’s waking up at steve’s place that ends up being the most normal part of your day

CHAPTER EIGHT | ❝𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏❞

Spring Semester 2016

“Woah, you’re actually alive, Munson?” You were mostly joking with your words, but you tried to keep your voice as serious as possible. After days of missed calls and sporadic texts, you needed to push his buttons a bit. 

It shouldn’t have been surprising to see your best friend standing at your door, but it was. The last time you’d seen him was three days ago— which, in general terms, wasn't a long time at all, but for you and Eddie it was. You tried your hardest to not take it too personally, though, because it was just the age-old phenomenon of a friend getting into a relationship. You’d been through one too many situations like that with friends back in high school.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie told you, and you could tell that he genuinely meant it, which made you feel a little bad. 

“It’s okay. I’m kidding. I know you’re happily in the honeymoon phase right now,” You said and gave him a small smile that actually didn’t feel too forced. 

Every romantic feeling you had for him was stuffed into a metaphorical box that you then buried deep down inside of you, and at this point, you never planned on opening it. You forced yourself to not think about how you felt about him, which made it easier to solely be happy for him. 

“I’m still sorry,” Eddie said as he walked into your room, which was actually empty for once. Your roommate had half-mentioned to you earlier that she was going to be gone for the weekend. “I’ve missed you these past few days.”

“I’ve missed you too,” You said, closing the door behind him and then proceeding to ask the question that you didn’t want to ask, but you knew that you needed to. “Where’s Chrissy?” 

“Some study group thing right now, and then she has cheerleading stuff for the rest of the night,” He answered and then shifted the subject. “It’s felt weird not seeing you these last few days.”

Aside from the fact that you’d been trying to make sense of the new dynamic between you and him and trying to be completely okay with things being different now, you did simply just miss your friend. 

He sat at the foot of your bed and you walked over to him. You two probably should’ve caught each other up on the last few days, but it felt like there was no need for the small talk. 

“What was that one movie that you mentioned before and you said that we should watch it?” Eddie asked as he started taking off his shoes. “I think you said Lindsay Lohan’s in it?”

You smiled at the abruptness of the question. “Freaky Friday?” 

“Yes, that. We should watch it.” 

“It still doesn’t make sense to me how you haven't seen that already.”

“Tonight’s the night.”

“Okay, I’ll never say no to watching Freaky Friday,” You said, heading over to your desk to grab your laptop, and then you joined him on your bed and pulled up the movie. “I think you’re gonna love Lindsay Lohan’s character.”

You two spent most of the night watching the movie, which he ended up liking a lot, and then he proceeded to show you a band that reminded him a lot of the music they used in the movie. And it was in moments like these, where you and he hung out and talked and did the things that had cemented your friendship in the first place, that nothing felt different.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

It was the sun that woke you up. The bright light beaming through Steve’s curtainless living room windows that made you softly groan and want to pull a blanket over your head, but you didn’t have a blanket over you anyway. 

It was then that your mind reminded you of where you were and what happened last night. 

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up, unsure of when exactly you had shifted to lying down on Steve’s wood floor and placing your head in his lap, using it as a makeshift pillow throughout most of the night. 

You thought about the conversation that you two had last night and how nice it had been. It made waking up in his apartment feel a thousand times less awkward than how it would’ve felt if you and he were still in that weird place where moments alone together didn’t feel entirely easy and comfortable. Now you felt perfectly fine. 

You stood up slowly in an attempt to not wake Steve since he was still asleep, leaning back against the couch with his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. 

Mindlessly, you flicked on the bathroom light when you walked in, forgetting that the power had been out. But, when it actually turned on, you remembered, and you wondered when exactly it had come back. 

Your eyes traveled to your reflection in the bathroom mirror, and the fact that you were in Steve’s clothes shouldn’t have surprised you at all, because you vividly remembered putting them on, but it did. You hadn’t actually seen what you looked like last night, so it was slightly startling seeing yourself wearing the gray t-shirt that you now could see said “Hawkins High School Class of 2015” in dark green lettering and the black basketball shorts that you had tied tightly at your hips. 

You knew that you probably should’ve changed then, your original clothes from the night before were in a heap on the bathroom floor, but you didn’t really want to just yet. You were comfortable and too tired to make the effort to put back on your jeans or even slip your sweater over your head. Therefore, you simply used the bathroom instead of changing out of his clothes. 

As you washed your hands, you noticed the packaged toothbrush that sat on the counter. You smiled at the gesture because you knew that Steve put it out for you, and you had no idea when he did that. 

You brushed your teeth and it wasn’t until you were leaving the bathroom, that you thought about what time it was. You were lucky and didn’t have any classes on Mondays, but you remembered at some point during the conversation last night that Steve mentioned having only one class at twelve. And then as if on cue, your phone started ringing on the coffee table, an incessant alarm sound that abruptly filled the quietness that hung in the air— you’d forgotten that you’d even set an alarm yesterday.

You rushed over to your phone to turn it off and hopefully not wake Steve, but he was up by the time you managed to stop it.

“You set an alarm?” He asked, voice groggy with sleep as he looked up at you. 

“Yeah, I completely forgot I set one for nine,” You told him. “I did it early yesterday to remind myself to submit this assignment for one of my classes. Now I can’t even do it since I’m here, but it’s fine because it’s not due until midnight anyway. I’m just always so forgetful when it comes to this one Lit class.” You stopped rambling and slipped your phone into the pocket of the basketball shorts. “Sorry for waking you up.” 

“It’s okay,” Steve said, rubbing his eyes for a second. “How long have you been up?”

“Ten minutes, probably.” 

“Did you have another falling nightmare?”

“Thankfully, no,” You shook your head. “It was the sun that woke me up.” 

“Yeah, sorry, I keep thinking about getting curtains in here.”

“That would be a solid idea. If I wasn’t a fake girlfriend, I would’ve probably gotten you some by now. And maybe some throw pillows too. Your couch looks so lonely and sad,” You joked. 

Steve gave you an amused look as he stood up. “I don’t think couches can look lonely and sad.”

“They definitely can.”

He was about to respond to your joking words, but then your phone started to ring in your pocket, interrupting whatever he was about to say. You pulled it out, seeing Eddie’s name on the screen. 

You brought your phone to your ear as you turned and walked over to the window, the current weather outside made it look as if nothing had even happened last night. “Hey, Eds.”

When you turned around, looking away from the clear sky and bright sun, you noticed Steve heading to the bathroom. 

“Hey, want to grab some breakfast?” Eddie asked. His schedule was ingrained in your brain as much as your own was, so you knew that his Mondays were free too. “I can be at your place in ten.” 

“Oh, um, I’m actually at Steve’s right now,” You said. “Because of the storm and power outage last night and stuff.” 

“Oh…” He responded, and it was hard to read what that simple word meant, if anything. “You can ask him to come too?”

You were quiet for a moment. “Um, okay, yeah. Hold on a sec. I’ll ask him.” 

You put the call on mute as you walked over to the bathroom and gave the door a quick knock. “Hey, me and Eddie are gonna get some food. You wanna come too? I know you said that you have a class at twelve, but I figured I’d still ask.”

You heard the sink turn off and then there was a brief pause before Steve was asking, “You want me to come?”

Another pause lingered as you considered that question. “Honestly, I’m not really in the mood to throw on the fake dating charm right now.” 

The sink turned back on. “Yeah, same here.”

“Okay.” You walked away from the door then and went back to the living room, settling on the couch and unmuting the call with Eddie as you did so. “He can’t come, but I’ll still go. I’ll text you the address of his apartment.”

“Okay, see you soon.” 

You were in the middle of texting Eddie when Steve emerged from the bathroom. He sat down next to you on the couch and you set your phone on the coffee table and then looked at him. 

“Thanks for putting out the toothbrush for me, by the way.”

“No problem,” He responded with a shrug like it wasn’t a big deal; which maybe it wasn’t, but in your eyes it was still a nice and thoughtful thing to do. “Eddie’s on his way?”

You only nodded in response at first. “Yeah, so I should probably go change. Also, thank you for letting me borrow clothes. You’re a very great fake boyfriend.”

“Thank you. And if you got me some curtains, I’d consider you a very great fake girlfriend.”

You let out a laugh as you got up and started heading to the bathroom again. “That’s not gonna happen because I won’t be able to reap the benefits of them in a month.” 

“I guess that’s fair,” Steve responded, and then before you closed the bathroom door behind you so that you could change he was saying, “You should keep the shirt on.”

“Okay,” You said, not thinking too much about the random suggestion even though you probably should’ve asked why he thought that was a good idea. You were still pretty comfortable in his shirt anyway, so in the moment you weren’t really fazed. 

You slipped out of the basketball shorts and put on your jeans, and then stuffed your sweater and dress from last night back in the bag that you brought it in, which sat by the front door.

The text from Eddie came twenty minutes later when you were in the middle of helping Steve clean up the cards scattered across the table. It was quiet right then, but you didn’t hate it, which pretty much said everything without actually saying anything.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It wasn’t until you were getting into Eddie’s van that you finally understood why Steve told you to keep on his shirt. 

Eddie noticed it immediately and you could tell that he wanted to say something, maybe question you about it, but the slightly surprised look he gave you said enough. The shirt quite literally meant nothing, but it was an easy way to play up your “relationship” with Steve without even having to say anything. It was a great idea and you wished that you had thought of it, but you were glad that Steve did. 

“We should go to Frankie’s,” You said since Eddie was still quiet and simply looking at your, Steve’s, shirt. “Their pancakes would be great right now.” 

Eddie’s gaze met yours then and he nodded. “Yeah, sounds good.”  

That diner became somewhat of a staple of yours when you and him randomly stumbled upon it Freshman year. The only thing that was good was the breakfast— everything else absolutely sucked aside from the milkshakes, but even that was only sometimes. And it was rarely ever busy so you usually always ended up in the same booth.

“I can’t remember the last time it was just you and me here,” Eddie said as he took a sip of his orange juice. 

Going to Frankie’s had become a group occasion at this point. The second you met Robin in the Fall of your sophomore year and quickly became friends, it grew from just being your and Eddie’s thing. And then you met Vickie, and then you met Talia, and the rest was history. If one person suggested going, everyone else was probably going to immediately want to join too. The last time you were here was three weeks ago with Robin and Vickie, getting waffles in the middle of the night because none of you could sleep. 

But still, you remembered exactly the last time it had been just you and Eddie. However, you didn’t really want to bring that moment up right then, so you attempted to work around it. 

“Um, yeah, it was last year toward the end of the semester,” You said and then promptly tried to change the subject. “Anyway, I’m thinking about maybe doing the waffle. When Robin, Vickie, and I were here last it was really good. But, it might’ve also just tasted that way because we were very sleep-deprived.” 

Your subject change attempt was absolutely for nothing, though, because Eddie’s thoughts were stuck on the first part of what you said, and then he was realizing by himself. “Oh! Shit, I still can’t believe that I told you about the breakup here of all places.” 

You remembered that morning probably way too vividly. He told you with the saddest look on his face and once you actually processed his words— “Me and Chrissy broke up”— you felt sad for him but also the tiniest bit relieved, and you immediately felt like shit for feeling that way because you could tell how upset he was about it. 

“But, it’s kind of funny now, I think,” He continued before you could respond with anything. 

Hearing him say that confused you and your eyebrows furrowed. “Funny?” 

“Yeah, because none of that matters now, so it’s kinda funny thinking back to how fucked up I was about it then,” He said, words sounding completely genuine, and it was honestly pretty admiring seeing how he could look back on a shitty moment and see it in the entirely opposite way. When you looked back on past bad moments in your life, you either felt embarrassed by them or simply the same amount of shittyness. “Also, it’s kind of funny how that moment birthed one of your best ideas just because you were trying to cheer me up.” 

You smiled at that. “Thank you for calling my summer road trip idea one of my best.” It had been an impulsively suggested idea that you weren’t entirely even serious about, but it was pulled together in just a week— you tried to remember if going to different national parks had been your suggestion or Eddie’s. But, either way, those five weeks spent driving around marked the best summer you’d ever had. “That whole thing still sounds like the plot of an early 2000s teen movie to me, so that’s probably why I thought of it.”

Eddie nodded. “I’ll take your word for it.” 

“You should be very well-versed in those kinds of movies by now. I’ve made you watch the most important ones.” 

“We’ve established that important doesn’t necessarily mean good, right?” 

“Oh no, please don’t do this right now. I can’t bear to hear you slander She’s the Man again,” You said with a roll of your eyes. 

Eddie simply laughed as he held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But, I’m just saying there were some questionable things in th—”

“Shh, I will kick you under the table if I have to,” You interrupted him before he could finish. 

It was then that the waitress came over to take your orders, perfectly putting a halt on the current conversation. Eddie got the pancakes, and after a few brief moments of hesitation, you decided on the same. 

“Let’s go back to talking about the road trip,” You said before taking a quick sip of your coffee. “And what a great time that was.”

Eddie nodded, smiling at you. “I think that trip proved that we’re great at camping and weirdly good at kayaking, but we suck at hiking and you’re a bad driver.” 

“Everything you said, except the driving comment, is very true,” You told him. “But, actually, I don’t know if we can really say that we’re great at camping since we were mainly just sleeping in your van for a lot of the trip.” 

“Yeah, but that’s close enough to camping because we were parked at campgrounds.” 

You laughed at that. “Very true. We technically did camp.”

You thought about those nights when you two talked about nothing and everything in the back of his van. And then your mind traveled to a different night in a shitty motel room toward the end of the trip, more talks of anything and everything, and stupid old feelings reminding you that they were in fact still there. Which had only annoyed you because you knew that there was no way that that trip was your time to admit anything to Eddie since he was in the middle of mourning a yearlong relationship. 

“That entire trip helped a lot,” He told you in this moment and you nodded. 

“I’m glad I could be there,” You said, and you meant that completely. It did bring up stuff that you had initially hoped was dead and gone, but you were still happy that the trip itself had happened. 

“I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else there.” 

You smiled at that. “I feel very honored. And I promise I won’t tell Robin that.” 

You expected him to smile back at you and laugh a bit at your joke. But, instead, his eyes randomly traveled to your shirt again before he looked back up and met your gaze. There was a certain look on his face that you couldn’t decipher, which felt so foreign to you because you were usually always able to read him. For the briefest moment, he looked like he was about to say something, lips slightly parting for a second, but then he was looking away from you and focusing back on his drink.

That had never happened before. You were certain of it because it felt way too significant and you knew that you would’ve remembered it. You also would’ve remembered your reaction to what just happened too— the sudden stop your heart did, like it was stalling just for a moment, and then it abruptly sped up; you could feel it pound in your ears. You’d never experienced that before.  

It felt as if something was changing, but you couldn’t tell what, and a part of you didn’t even want to try and read this moment. You were scared to once again jump to conclusions and read between what always ended up being nonexistent lines because you really didn’t want to be wrong like you’d been before. 

“You okay?” You asked him, even though you didn’t necessarily feel that way yourself.

“‘M good,” Eddie answered, nodding. “Just thinking.”

“About?” 

He shrugged then. “Random stuff. Doesn’t matter.”

You wanted to push him further, but you didn’t, and you weren’t really sure why you didn’t. Because later, once you were in your room doing a final proofread of your assignment that was due before you submitted it, you thought back to that conversation with Eddie and the abrupt note it ended on before you shifted it and told him about the project you were helping Robin with for one of her Women’s Studies classes, some survey thing. 

And you suddenly wished that you had asked Eddie about the “random stuff” that had been on his mind because now you couldn’t concentrate on this assignment and you just kept rereading the same sentence and for some reason, you now really wanted to know what he'd been thinking about. 

You sighed and closed your eyes for a second, taking a quick breath before silently telling yourself to focus solely on reading the essay in front of you. 

You were halfway through it when your phone pinged from where it sat next to you on your desk. A text from Steve. 

Steve: I hope you remembered to submit your assignment

You smiled at the message, not even the slightest bit annoyed that it interrupted where you’d been reading.

You: Doing it now, actually 

You: But thanks for the reminder. Great fake boyfriend!

Steve: Thanks. Wish I could say the same for you, but I’m still waiting on curtains…

You: Once again, never gonna happen 

You stared at your text for a few moments. There wasn’t really anything else to say, but you suddenly wanted to say more. Surprisingly, you wanted to talk to him about the Eddie thing, but what would you even say about it?

There was a moment that wasn’t really a moment? Maybe he was about to say that he had feelings for you, or maybe you were being an idiot and looking way too deeply into absolutely nothing? 

All of that felt so stupid, and you actually really didn’t want to spiral about it. 

Right then, you decided that you actually just wanted to forget about the entire thing instead of talking about it. You were pressing the call button on Steve’s contact name before you could let yourself think about it too much. 

He answered on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Hi, so earlier you asked if I had my falling nightmare last night, and I’m just now realizing that I didn’t ask if you had your driving dream. Did you?”

Steve could’ve easily asked why that was suddenly on your mind, and it would’ve been a valid question. But instead, he just answered you. “I was on a boat this time. Just floating around. It was very chill.” 

You let out a laugh. “Wow, you’re so normal.” 

“Do you remember what yours was last night?”

“Nope, which probably means that it was also very normal,” You answered. “The day that I actually remember a normal mundane dream that I have, I’ll make sure to tell you immediately.” 

“Thanks, I’m looking forward to that,” He said, and you were somehow able to hear the amused smile in his voice. “Oh, and I also had another dream too. It was where you finally submitted that assignment for your class.” 

You could clearly hear the sarcasm in his tone, which made you laugh. “I am, I am. I just really needed to ask that dream question.” 

“Makes sense. Maybe the more I tell you about my normal dreams, the better chances you have of actually having one too.”

“Exactly. You get it.” 

“I’m hanging up now. Please go submit that assignment,” Steve told you. “Or if you don’t, at least, don’t blame me for your failing grade.” 

You smiled at that. “I promise that all blame will go to myself if I fail.” 

“Good to know,” He said and you could practically hear him nodding. “In that case, let’s talk for another hour.”

“Ha ha, fuck you,” You said, still very much smiling, though. “Bye.” 

“Bye.” 

You finally finished reading your essay and then submitted it. Moments after you closed your laptop and stood up from your desk, you were getting in bed and easily falling asleep without thinking about the Eddie thing, and what any of it did or didn’t mean. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick

[vickyvicarious]

This was evidently the portion of the castle occupied by the ladies in bygone days, for the furniture had more air of comfort than any I had seen. The windows were curtainless, and the yellow moonlight, flooding in through the diamond panes, enabled one to see even colours, whilst it softened the wealth of dust which lay over all and disguised in some measure the ravages of time and the moth. My lamp seemed to be of little effect in the brilliant moonlight, but I was glad to have it with me, for there was a dread loneliness in the place which chilled my heart and made my nerves tremble. [...] Here I am, sitting at a little oak table where in old times possibly some fair lady sat to pen, with much thought and many blushes, her ill-spelt love-letter, and writing in my diary in shorthand all that has happened since I closed it last. It is nineteenth century up-to-date with a vengeance. And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere "modernity" cannot kill.

This room's greater comfort is a trap, of course. Just like the peaceful night view was ruined by Dracula's appearance crawling down the wall - any moment of peace in this castle is destroyed quickly by some horrifying new vampiric influence. On a smaller scale, this comforting room away from Dracula echoes the comforting rooms Dracula gave Jonathan away from the cold and danger of the forest. In each case, it at first seems safer - but is in fact the opposite as it moves Jonathan further into the influence of vampires.

But there's also the moonlight here. Just as it lit up the view for Jonathan yesterday, and softened the harsher aspects of the scenery into just a beautiful view, here too it softens the dusts and disguises the ravages of time. The moonlight covers up the truth of the scene for something nicer - just as the vampires offer friendship at first, or an appealing/enticing hypnotism. But there's still that "dread loneliness" under the surface, which Jonathan can sense even despite wanting to like it more here. He has to make an effort to steel his nerves in order to take advantage of the peace here. Maybe that's just because he's scared all the time and his nerves are shot, or maybe there is a bit of a sixth sense awareness of the presence of the vampire ladies having often been here.

Regardless, the line about his (modern) lamp being of little use in the ([super]natural/ancient) moonlight is a pretty direct preview of the line that ends this entry. And that in turn is suggestive of how little prepared our hero/es will be to try and fend off any of the vampires.

[afewproblems]

WIP Wednesday

I'm actually posting on WIP Wednesday, the stars have finally aligned in my favour!

Thank you to @outpastthebrakers for your tag today and @steves-strapcollection for your multiple tags before - its finally lined up today!!

Here is Part Two of my follow up to this Post (Steddie Breakup) hopefully with a Steddie makeup/fix-it future!

(Also! Important to note, season four - specifically the stuff with Vecna- Never happened in this AU)

***

Two Years later - 1987, Chicago, IL

Steve picks up another box from the back of the beemer. This one has, 'Steve's Obnoxious Hair Care,' neatly printed on the side in bold black sharpie --Steve snorts at the sight and vows to never let Robin help him pack ever again. 

He walks up the three flights and through the propped open front door to the two bedroom apartment.

It's small, just barely enough for two people, but in downtown Chicago, it's a steal at the price. 

And it's theirs. 

"Hey Birdie," Steve calls out from the kitchen, he sets the box down on the counter, turning his head to the left slightly to listen for her shuffling. The dull ringing in his right ear makes it more difficult, present ever since he left his parents house for good.

It had gotten even worse since their Russian encounter, but if he's weighing the pros and the cons of that night, he's glad he got Robin out of the deal.

Steve steps into the living room just off the kitchen, "Robin?"

Bright sunlight streams through the curtainless windows bathing Robin in a warm yellow glow. 

She stands in the center, facing Steve, with a pensive expression, her eyes scanning the space around her. 

"Hush Dingus," she mutters, holding up her pointer finger to her lips, "I'm visualizing". 

"Ah, of course," he concedes with a fond smile as Robin walks towards him slowly counting her steps. She lines her feet up as she moves, touching the toe of her right foot to the heel of her left. She wobbles slightly as she makes it to where Steve is standing, he reaches out to steady her with a laugh.

"I told you the living room was more than ten feet!"

"Robin, do you think that a 'foot' is literally your foot?" 

Robin sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes, before plucking the measuring tape from where it was clipped to her back pocket, "you have no concept of joy, you refuse to let me live".

"Yeah, yeah, so hard done by," he snorts as she sticks her tongue out at him and leans down to pick up one of the empty boxes.

She sighs and looks around the space again with a contented expression before looking at Steve, "well, Dingus, I think we did good".

Steve nods and tries to smile back but the expression doesn't quite meet his eyes, Robin tilts her head, turning the box over in her hands at the corners.

"What's wrong?" She says softly, anxiously, her blue eyes dart over his face, "is it a migraine? Do you need your meds?"

Steve shakes his head, wincing before he can stop himself, he knows Robin's brain would come up with the worst case scenario first. And, to be fair to her, she had seen the worst case scenarios and after effects of the Russian interrogation, she'd held his hand after spilling his guts from the nausea and halos in his vision, she'd insisted he buy blackout blinds for his room because, 'you never know when you'll need them Dingus, you won't always get one of these at night'.

Steve shakes his head, "no, it's not a migraine, relax Robs," he huffs as she levels him with a disbelieving stare.

"I just," Steve chews his lip for a moment as he drops his gaze to the floor. Robin steps closer, tilting her head to the side as he struggles to find the words.

"I love that you came with me, that we get to be here, but," Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It's longer than it had been two years ago, the gold and copper from his time in the warm summer sun slowly fading back to brown.

"Eddie always talked about leaving Hawkins someday, and I always thought it would be with me".

"This was our plan," he says softly, lifting his eyes to meet Robin's own, her brows pinched in a small frown.

"And I managed to screw that up like everything else," he trails off softly.

***

"I just don't understand why you have to go to this thing, you aren't even interested in his stupid job?" Eddie growls as he tosses the pencil up at his bedroom ceiling, it stays for just a moment before falling back into his waiting hands. Pock marks litter the tile from previous throws and Steve is sure Wayne's told him to knock it off more times than he can count.

"It's complicated," Steve says lowly, he pictures his dad's thunderous face, the same square jaw and straight nose that Steve has, they could be identical but for their ages and the cold grey eyes his father has. 

Steve took after his mother in that area, inheriting her large hazel eyes and long lashes. 

"No it's not," Eddie says stubbornly, he throws the pencil with more force this time and it hangs in the ceiling between them, "you could tell him to stuff his job up his ass".

"Eddie--"

"No, no, you know we had a show tonight, and you're choosing to go to your dad's fundraiser instead?"  

Steve sighs and bites the inside of his cheek, tamping down the urge to argue with his boyfriend.

But, they've never really had this talk before, Steve's never told anyone about his father and his homelife. 

Right now he wishes he had.

"It's not like I have much of a choice," he huffs as Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs, "and not all of us have someone like Wayne to encourage us to do whatever we want".

"That's such bullshit and you know it," Eddie hisses ignoring the slight flinch from Steve, "you always do this". 

What?

"You never want to come to our shows, you never want to sit in on Hellfire--"

"That's not true," Steve growls, crossing his arms over his stomach, he hunches in on himself slightly but Eddie shakes his head.

"Yes it is! When was the last time you came to a show?"

Steve wracks his brain, trying to remember the name of the bar they had played at, it wasn’t the Hideaway, it had been a bit of a drive to get there. It was a dive bar that had sounded like it was straight out of Robin Hood, The Red Lion?

"See!" Eddie takes his silence as victory and throws his hands up in the air, "what did I tell you?"

"Jesus, it was a bar show just like all of them Eddie, it's not like you guys were playing on MTV or something," Steve snaps, the last threads of his patience wearing thinner and thinner. 

"Oh fuck off, MTV is part of the problem, do you not listen when I talk?"

"I always listen to you!" Steve cries out, his voice climbs in volume and his hands shake as adrenaline spikes, "sometimes you just talk and talk and talk and you say nothing important but I always listen to you!"

"Woooow, fuck you," Eddie scoffs as he turns on his heel and opens his bedroom door, Steve follows him, fuming but wary.

"Since everything I say is bullshit, apparently, and you don't want to come to our shows or spend time with me then maybe you should just go!"

Steve halts in his tracks.

Eddie stands by the open front door to the trailer, his cheeks are red and his mouth is a flat line carved in the middle of his face.

Steve feels his heart rate tick up as he stands there frozen.

They've had disagreements before, small petty arguments but this feels big. Much bigger than any fight they've ever had. 

"Eddie-"

"Nope, unless you tell me you're coming tonight, we're done".

Oh.

And just like that, it hurts just as much as when Nancy had told him she didn't love him the previous year. It's too much, he needs to leave.

"Yeah, you know what Eddie, I don't need this," Steve says so softly that Eddie leans forward to hear before reeling back as though struck, "I don't," he shakes his head and walks past Eddle towards the open door. 

Eddie's hands twitch as though he wants to reach out to Steve, to pull him back into the trailer, but they remain at his sides.

"You're right," Eddie yells after him as Steve walks down the gravel drive to his car, "you don't need us, we don't need you, go crawling back to daddy just like always".

Steve stops walking and looks back at Eddie. The metal-head's wide brown eyes are shiny with angry tears. 

Steve feels his own angry tears pooling along his lash line.

He gets in the car and drives away, ignoring the tightness in his chest as he heads home.

***

"Okay, first of all," Robin says sharply as she drops the box at their feet and pokes him in the chest with a rigid pointer finger, "you're damn right you're happy I came with you, I am a catch!" 

Steve rolls his eyes as Robin clears her throat imperiously until he raises his hands in surrender.

"Second, he found out about your dads shit, saw you beaten to hell and back, and didn't even want to have a conversation? Fuck that noise".

"Birdy, you weren't there, and you don't even know Eddie--"

"I know you though," she continues, staring him down, "and I know if the roles were reversed, you would have at least heard him out".

Steve holds back a wince, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. He knows she isn’t right, he knows he made a mistake that night walking away, they should have talked, they should have had it out. 

Steve should have told Eddie the truth. 

Then again, Eddie dropped him like it was nothing so maybe he was better off in the long run.

Strangely enough this thought doesn’t make him feel better.

"Robin," Steve sighs wearily, crossing to the wall of the living room before leaning his back against it to slide down to the floor. 

"Tell me I'm wrong," she says softly, walking towards his spot on the floor, she settles beside him and nudges his shoulder with her own.

"Tell me I'm wrong and I'll drop it," she says again, firmly this time.

Steve breathes out a sigh and brings his knees to his chest, looking towards the window. 

The view isn't much, just the street and other buildings, but the Chicago skyline seems to stretch for miles ahead of them.

"You’re not wrong," he says eventually, ignoring the crow of triumph Robin makes, "but you're not right either".

She scoffs and leans her head against his shoulder, the soft waves of her hair tickle the skin on his bare arm but the weight and warmth of her is comforting.

"Besides, it was years ago," Steve mutters, "I'm sure he's forgotten all about me by now".

tagging: @strangersteddierthings @flowercrowngods @steddierthings @steddie-there @henderdads and anyone else that would like to participate! (Please tag me with your wonderful creations! Also I apologize if you've already been tagged - feel free to ignore this!)

[thedroneranger]

Call You Mine

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Précis: It's hard to get over Bradley Bradshaw. And who can blame you? Love makes us crazy. If it doesn't, are you doing it right?

Note: Excited to finally post this! Life made this one take a little longer. This is one of two entries for @cherrycola27’s #top gun taylors version challenge! Congratulations, on the milestone, babe—I'm sure we'll be celebrating another soon! This fic is inspired by a T. Swift favorite of mine, Don't Blame Me. Enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit: stalking, violence, attempted murder, masturbation.

Word count: 3.5k

What did he see in her? 

It wasn’t the first time that thought had crossed your mind, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

Her hair was down, and her outfit casual—light-colored jeans with a loose-fitting t-shirt front tucked. Sunglasses shading her eyes, she sipped coffee and scrolled her phone while she waited for him. After what seemed like an eternity, he joined her. 

Through narrowed eyes, you watched as she stood to greet him and they embraced. She threw her arms around his neck, getting on her tiptoes, while his arms slung low on her waist.

You and Natasha met a handful of times. Bradley insisted he and Nat were friends and nothing more. Of course, you didn’t believe Bradley for a second. Every touch, every hug, every late night phone call said otherwise. 

They were so natural together. Like birds singing as the morning sun rose or crickets crooning in the twilight. 

No wonder Bradley thought it couldn’t work with you. How could he when there was five-foot-seven worth of gorgeous grin and glowing skin staring at him over a coffee cup?

She had to go.

Sinking lower in the driver’s seat of your vehicle, you watched as they got up together. After disposing of their cups, Bradley walked Natasha to her SUV, which you knew was parked around the corner. As they disappeared, you punched the ignition button and pulled out of your curbside spot across the street.

“Catch you later tonight?” Natasha asked as she slid into the driver’s seat. 

“Absolutely.” Bradley rasped, holding the door open. They grinned at each other as he closed it. As she pulled away, and they exchanged waves through the window. 

Bradley waited on the street, hands in his jean pockets and watched until her tail lights illuminated at a stop sign before she drove through the intersection. Then, he walked a few spaces up to his Bronco and hopped in. 

This morning, when you tailed Natasha, her day was rather uneventful. You waited until you spotted her sleek SUV rolling out of the private garage of her condo building. Shifting into drive, you followed as she first stopped at the post office. Once she came back out, Natasha took a call while she sat in the vehicle, shuffling around, looking for something she eventually found. 

Next, she stopped for gas and went inside to get a shitty gas station latte. Seemed to be a routine indulgence for her. After that, she spent what seemed like an eternity in the grocery store. Once all her groceries were loaded into her vehicle, Natasha headed back to her condo that was tucked in a mid-sized building on the downtown main drag.

You’d found the building plans in the public records and knew which unit was hers. Although the building wasn’t that large, it was well-secured. In contrast, Bradley’s bungalow had a much lower security threshold. Plus, you were familiar with the layout. 

Since you’d followed Natasha this morning, and would bet your next month’s salary that she and Bradley were meeting at the Hard Deck tonight, you decided to see what Bradley was up to this afternoon.

Leisurely, you drove to Bradley’s, taking an elongated route. As you turned onto Bradley’s street, you killed the music, glided by his house, confirmed his Bronco was parked in the driveway and continued on to the street parallel to his. You parked in the spot that gave you the perfect view of his backyard and into his house through a couple curtainless windows. 

There he was. Shirtless. Floating around, bopping his head to the music surely streaming through the living room sound system. Watching through your camera lens, you snapped a few images. 

As you captured photos, you recalled the couple times you’d witness him and Natasha twirling around, dancing. Faces lit with laughter as he spun her around, and then dipped her for the finale. 

Bradley never did that with you.

The burn of jealousy you felt quickly washed away as your lens zeroed in on Bradley’s broad back. Your thoughts drifted to touching Bradley—every dimple, every tendon, every scar. 

Of course, the few months you and Bradley spent together weren’t sexless. For you, it was some of the best sex of your life, and Bradley seemed to have no complaints. A matter of fact, each moan or toe curl you were able to pull from Bradley seemed like a badge of honor.

Thinking about Bradley laying underneath you as your hand steadied yourself on his sculpted chest had you sighing deeply. You could practically feel his hip bones cradling your thighs as you rode him and his hands curving around your hips.

The memory of his thumb drawing tight circles on your clit had you sinking into your seat, squeezing your eyes closed and heat gathering in your lap. Replays of your sexcapades continued to flood your mind, filling your dam. You needed a release. Soon, your jeans were unzipped and your legs as wide as the car seat would allow.

Your lip disappeared between your teeth as you slipped your middle and ring fingers into yourself, slicking them to then paint your swollen clit so you could attempt to recreate even a fraction of the pleasure Bradley had given you several times over. 

Envisioning Bradley’s large hand palming your chest, and then sliding up to cover your throat, had you gripping the door handle with your free hand as your pace quickened. The heat in your belly was building to boil, the pot lid close to skittering off.

Bradley’s face as he finished—the furrow of his brow, twitch of his mustache—flashed through your mind and pushed you across the finish line. A sigh only for you left your lips as you let your release wash over you, dissipating the tension. Pulling yourself back together, you continued watching Bradley through the back windows. 

On his days off, he always hit the gym late in the afternoon. You attributed it to keeping his daily shower count to one. Because, undoubtedly, Bradley would come home post-workout to get ready for the Hard Deck. 

While Bradley was at the gym, you were going to the hair appointment you’d scheduled a few weeks ago. A smile pulled your lips as you perfectly parallel parked across the street from the salon. Marc, your stylist, was there to greet you with open arms and an Americano.

Like all trusted stylists, Marc knew all about your life, including Bradley. He knew all about Bradley’s longtime friend who had had her chance to shoot her shot with him. However, she hesitated too long, and now you were in the picture. But that didn’t stop her from crossing boundaries even though you asked her to stop. 

Tonight, you were going to end it once and for all.

After an afternoon in Marc’s hands, you were practically a new person. A cute sundress would compliment your makeover perfectly. Back home, you twirled in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, deciding which dress was best. Eventually, you decided on the knee-length one with flutter sleeves and a deep V-neck. 

Tonight was a night that your inability to be anywhere in a timely fashion paid off. By the time you reached the Hard Deck, the parking lot was fairly full, allowing you to park toward the back of the lot undetected. With one final look in the rearview mirror, you slid out of the driver’s seat and headed for the front door. 

Bradley’s Bronco was unmistakable, proudly parked as close to the entrance as possible. A few spaces down was Natasha’s luxury SUV.

The bar was crowded, so you easily disappeared into the sea of civilians and servicepeople. Head on a swivel, still waiting for Natasha or Bradley in your peripheral, you causally wound through the crowd, venturing around the venue. 

There he was. The floral print Aloha shirt wrapping his broad shoulders gave him away. Natasha stood tucked into his side, his arm draped over her shoulders. You recognized many of the faces they were laughing with from photos. 

With them in your sight, you headed to the bar to find a spot with a view but that also kept you in the crowd. The woman behind the bar didn’t recognize you as you ordered. One of the few times you’d been here with Bradley, he had introduced you to the bartender, who also owned the establishment. 

Drink in hand, you slipped into a seat that had conveniently opened up. Bradley and Natasha bantered with each other, with their friends and shittalked while facing each other in a game of pool. 

“Hey.” The greeting bore a hint of southern drawl. You turned to see one of their friends, the good looking blond, dragging his gaze over you. You coolly returned his greeting and took a sip of your drink. 

The man had no clue who you were. Not that you could blame him. He’d met you once and had seen you maybe two or three times total. Plus, with your drastic cut and color, you might as well be a complete stranger. 

He made small talk while he waited for a fresh round of drinks. As he departed, he invited you to stop by the group. Upon his departure, you gave him an open-ended response and a wink. 

It amazed you how few boundaries Bradley and Natasha had with each other. As the night wore on, you watched each touch grow more intimate. At one point, Bradley had his arm wrapped around Natasha’s hips with his hand in her front pocket. It was a move he had put on you while you two walked to keep you close. 

You watched as each drink made them a little looser, a little flirtier. At one point, you watched Natasha play wingman for every man in their group—except Bradley. 

At last call, the crowd began to thin. You finished your drink, cashed out and slunk to your vehicle. Hand on the door and a glance over your shoulder, you slipped into the backseat. Sitting behind the passenger seat gave you a better view of the building. To the unassuming eye, your vehicle was one of several destined to spend the night in the lot.

Before Bradley and Natasha spilled out of the Hard Deck, you watched the blond from earlier climb into a black F-150 Raptor. You were surprised to see him alone. Must be all talk. A few more familiar faces filtered out. 

Finally, they shuffled out with another friend. The friend you were convinced was pining for Natasha but was too shy to do anything about it. He and Bradley chatted while Natasha clung to Bradley’s side. She clearly was not driving tonight. They parted ways, the shy friend going to his vehicle, and Bradley putting Natasha in the passenger seat of the Bronco before getting in. 

First, Shy Friend eased out of the parking lot. Then, Bradley backed out and headed for the exit. A smile pulled your lips as he turned left, signaling he was taking her home with him.

This time you drove straight to the spot on the street parallel to Bradley’s that had the perfect sightline into his house. From there, you watched as he carried Natasha through the hall, disappearing in the direction of his bedroom. Eventually, the lights died and a stillness fell upon the house.

Quiet as possible, you slipped out of your vehicle. As you walked, you slipped on leather gloves you’d had for ages but never had a reason to wear. Knowing the family living in the house directly behind Bradley’s was away on vacation, you took the most direct route to his house. Under the cover of the thick trees and sparse streetlights, you snuck down their side yard and into the back. 

You easily scaled the standard chain-link fence that conjoined their yards. Thankfully, Bradley kept his yard tidy. Looking at his grill and the outdoor dining set made you think of the few times he’d grilled for you. Surely Natasha was reaping that benefit tenfold now. 

Standing in front of his backdoor, you gingerly grasped the handle and twisted the knob. It gave you zero resistance as the door floated open. Bradley would absolutely be locking his back door after this. Making sure the hinges didn’t  betray you, you took your time stepping across the threshold and closing yourself in. 

Enveloped in a new level of darkness, you stood for a minute, allowing your eyes to adjust. Slowly, you began to see the familiar lines of the counter and the silhouettes of appliances. 

You wanted to touch everything but knew to touch nothing. Your ears were on alert, listening for the slightest disturbance. So far, the only thing you could hear was Bradley’s deep breathing that, arguably, was a light snore. However, it didn’t sound like it was coming from his room.

Curiosity piqued, you glided toward the living room. Bingo. Splayed on the oversized, for his comfort, couch was Bradley. He was in a deep slumber. You admired him. Lips barely open, but enough to produce his audible breathing. Curls mussed and resting on his bulging bicep that acted as an extra pillow. The man ran hot, so the blanket he started his slumber with was now tangled at his feet, leaving his form clad only in drawstring gym shorts. 

As you watched him, the streetlight in front of his house gave the living room a bit more light, his chest rose and fell. Your mind wandered to why he was on the couch and not in his bed with Natasha. You didn’t think too hard about it, though. It made your task easier.

Releasing you had your fists balled at your sides, you unclenched them as you turned to head for the bedroom. The door was ajar, just the slightest. Using the back of two gloved fingers, you slowly pushed it open. 

Natasha was nestled under the fluffy bedding in the center of Bradley’s huge bed, sleeping soundly. Your eyes stayed glued to her as you crept into the room and put the door back the way you found it. Staying to the edge of the room, you calculated your plan of attack. Watching her sleep with a neutral expression, seemingly relaxed, you thought you might be beginning to understand why Bradley was so taken with her.

Gaze never leaving Natasha, you approached the edge of the bed. She didn’t stir. Removing a glove, you gingerly leaned onto the bed, knee first. Eyes still glued to Natasha for any sign of movement. Eventually, you were leaning over her, face-to-face, really studying her. 

Unable to help yourself, you ran your thumb along her full bottom lip. She was soft, angelic—maybe that’s why Bradley liked her so much. Your face was so close to hers—you really wanted to know what her lips would feel like against yours. Add evidence to the case for why Bradley liked her so much.

While you thought about Natasha’s lips, keeping your gaze on your face, you managed to mount her without disturbance. The amount of down bedding between the two of you was a huge aide in minimizing the movement ripples.

You looked at her one last time as you took one of the pillows her head wasn’t resting on and held it in front of your chest. “Sweet dreams,” you said barely above a whisper as you leaned forward to cover her face with it. 

Your grip was light until you felt her tensing. She was waking, trying to free her arms that were bracketed by your legs and trapped underneath the blankets. Her screams were muffled. “Shh, I’ll take great care of him.” Your closed eyes as you hugged her head with the pillow. Natasha was fighting less and less. 

“What the fuck?!” you heard from behind you. At the same time, you heard the door bang against the wall. You looked over your shoulder to see Bradley charging toward you. Before you could move, his hand was around your neck, ripping you off the bed. Natasha scrambled to the edge of the bed furthest away from you. Bradley was there, arms open, waiting to embrace her. 

Sheer size allowed him to throw you against the dresser a few feet away from the bed. You heard a thud and felt a sharp pain in the back of your head as you hit the heirloom dresser. Your eyes were having a hard time focusing as you slid to the floor. Involuntarily, your hand moved to the back of your head where the pain seared most. As your hand re-entered your field of vision, you could see your blood on your fingertips.

Bradley’s voice sounded distant. Question in his voice as he said your name. However, you looked up to see him kneeling in front of you. Your vision was slightly blurry. “You’ve gone too far this time.” Of course, Bradley still recognized you—some hair dye and a drastic cut wouldn’t fade your face from his memory. 

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice pulled you out of your mind and back into the room.

Natasha bound into the doorway, wearing one of Bradley’s t-shirts. He must’ve dressed her before he put her to bed. They exchanged looks before her gaze dropped to you on the floor. She quickly turned and disappeared.

“Let’s go.” Bradley gruffly grabbed your bicep. He gave you no time to get to your feet. Instead, three quarters of your body dragged along the floor as he pulled you to the kitchen. When he let you go, you slumped to the floor, your forearms stopping your face from hitting the tile. You were still lightheaded with fuzzy vision as you pressed yourself up on your palms.

“Bradley…” You slowly moved into a cross-legged sitting position.

“Don’t.” He cut you off. Bradley squared his body to you, arms across his chest. “There’s no coming back from this.” Bradley was pissed. 

You shook your head. “No, no.” Panic set in. “Don’t blame me!” you squeaked. Tears were beginning to well as you tried to get to your feet. 

“Stay on the floor,” he commanded. His look was deadly. Tears rolled down your cheeks. 

He sighed and ran his hands over his face. Bradley should’ve seen this coming. You were insane. The letters, showing up at his home unannounced, somehow frequenting the same places he did at the same. However, it never crossed his mind that you would try to murder someone, let alone his best friend.

While you reasoned with Bradley, Natasha was standing next to the couch, arms wrapped around herself, staring toward the kitchen. Eyes dilated from shock. She kept forgetting to breathe. When her body finally remembered, the sharp inhale would jolt her back to reality. She could hear Bradley’s voice but was not comprehending his words. The tones of your voice were grating her nerves, causing her arms to constrict tighter around her.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the front door slowly open. Iced to her spot beside the couch, she watched fingers curl around the edge while the barrel of a standard-issue pistol poked inside. Holding the gun was a plain-clothes police officer. “Jay.” Relief washed through Natasha as she identified the face holding the weapon. 

“Hey, Nat.” Jay mouthed and flashed a reassuring smile. Quickly, he pressed his free pointer finger to his lips. A curt nod from Natasha let him know she understood his command, and then she watched as he stalked toward the kitchen.

A friend of Bradley’s, Jay was supposed to meet them at the Hard Deck earlier but had to cancel due to work. Of course, Natasha’s heart sank a little when she heard, but the text message from him promising to make it up to her eased the discomfort. 

Jay huddled in the kitchen doorway shadows, waiting for his partner to reach the backdoor. Natasha had briefed him on the situation when she called, so they plotted their entry on the drive over. Familiar with Bradley’s house, Jay knew the entry points, so your odds of escaping were minimal. 

Back to the door, you didn’t see a face appear in the corner of the window. Bradley noticed but did not acknowledge in a way that made you aware. Not that it mattered—your vision was hazed between your head injury and the tears. Plus, you were occupied mumbling apologies to Bradley.

Everything happened all at once. The backdoor sprang open, someone jumped on top of you, and a man you had seen a few times stepped out of the shadows, pointing a gun at you. Bradley had fallen back and was standing with Natasha in his arms at the living room-kitchen threshold.

Your mind was numb as the officers cuffed you and read your Miranda rights. The last thing you remembered was falling to your knees in the driveway and yelling for Bradley to forgive you. Standing in the doorway, he looked you dead in the eyes and closed the door.

Visit my masterlist for more | Sign up for my taglist!

The Bradshaw Baddie™ Bunch (my taglist): @cherrycola27, @roosterforme, @galaxy-of-stories, @taytaylala12, @malindacath, @violyn20, @awildewit, @potato-girl99981, @shanimallina87, @i-simp-much, @blue-aconite, @djs8891, @linkpk88, @furiousladyking, @daggerspare-standingby, @princess76179, @jstarr86, @hecate-steps-on-me, @chicomonks, @darkheartcherry