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nereidprinc3ss · 7 months

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okay i know this is kind of a specific request but can you do something with professor Spence and uni reader where they get into a spat and argue bc she did something stupid and he gets mad and she’s like “noooo pls don’t be mad i hate when you’re mad at me I’m sorry🥺” bc she literally cannot function knowing she let him down (me with everybody) but he’s like super stubborn and goes all closed up and quiet so that he doesn’t like blow up on her until she finally says like “pls talk to me” and he’s all pissed and like “hell na bitch u crazy!🗣️‼️” but then later he’s like “it’s ok i love u but neva do that shit again ho” then they make up and it’s good again 🎀 ok i explained that so poorly (and comedically if i may) but i hope u get it and pls make it SO DRAMATIC bc I live for drama! like she steals test answers or something or does something that could like get her kicked out of school OR him lose his job 🤔 sigh … idk I’m leaving now. Also i LOOPOOOCE ORRKGOOVI love your fics. Luv em

hey girl (gender neutral) this made me laugh bc genuinely sometimes i write spencer so ooc that is what he sounds like. and i'm not sorry! anyway this is potentially a vyvanse fueled nightmare but i wrote it and i'm posting it MY BLOG MY RULES BITCHESSSS!!!! but genuinely read the content warning LMAO this one got a lil kick to it

warnings/tags: ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, fem!reader, spencer and r get into a for real argument like they're mean to each other, spencer is a lil toxic but its resolved, emotionally neglects reader just for a teeensy second but then he's really nice and sweet again, discussion of his past addic+ion, gets fluffy because i'm not EVIL, gets suggestive at the end bc i am secretly evil.......

a/n: i don't know whats happening. this confuses me just as much as it confuses you. its 3 am in the morning. im gonna post nice happy things soon. Gootbye

“I cannot believe you right now. I don’t even—I don’t even know what to say.”

“Spencer, you don’t have to say anything. It has nothing to do with you, and I’m not looking for your approval.”

He looks up from where he’d been rubbing his temples, like you’re a headache, eyebrows raised and lips parted in indignant disbelief.

“Oh! You’re not looking for my approval? Well thank god for that, because if you were one of my students I would recommend expulsion to the board.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I just said I don’t care about your opinion on this, much less your hypothetical opinion from some alternate universe where you have any authority over my education whatsoever.”

“You distributed an answer key to half of your class! Objectively this is the kind of thing that gets people expelled. I don’t understand how someone so smart could do something so fucking stupid.”

The words bite more than you were prepared for—but what hurts even more is how much he seems to mean them. In arguments past you’d both said things you didn’t mean, and then would immediately melt into I’m so sorry’s and the fight would resolve itself. Spencer’s clenched jaw and inability to make eye contact with you do not lend themselves to tender apologies. They cannot be attributed to miscommunication.

You take a step closer to where he’s bracing himself against the countertop, arms crossed defensively in front of your chest.

“Spencer, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was such a big deal. People cheat in college all the time.”

Still no reply. His head shakes so minutely you wonder if you’re imagining it. Panic wells in your chest.

“Please talk to me. I really hate when you ice me out. I’m sorry, okay? Just... please say something.”

Finally, his eyes slide to you. They lack the fiery anger of moments ago but there’s not much softness there either. His normally warm gaze now feels too abrasive, too cold and sharp on your bare skin. You're exposed, much too soft for that grating look, and it feels like he can see everything that’s wrong with you.

“Believe me when I tell you this. I am doing us both a favor by not speaking to you right now.”

And then he’s leaving the kitchen—nothing but a breeze against your cheek and the sound of a door slamming to prove he was ever there.

The apartment is silent. You stand in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of what to do next. Spencer very, very rarely gets angry at you to the point of neglect, and you know he’s doing his best with what was modelled for him as a child and his tendency to feel things so deeply it’s nearly disabling; but that doesn’t make it hurt much less. It doesn’t make you feel less abandoned or alone.

You’re sad, and you’re still pissed, and maybe you’re in just a bit of shock as you robotically move back to your nest of blankets on the couch and resume your schoolwork. What else is there to do? Unless Spencer is right—unless you really are about to get expelled after getting the answer key for an upcoming test from a friend, who then gave it to another friend, and so on. But is that really your fault?

It’s a struggle to stay focused as your mind keeps drifting back to Spencer in the other room, those cruel words and that cold steely look in his eye that isn’t supposed to ever be aimed at you. It’s not a secret that side of him exists, but it doesn’t belong in this apartment. It’s not something he needs to use against you. He’s supposed to be on your side. But instead, he’d said you should be expelled and essentially called you stupid. And now you’re doing homework for a class at a school you may not even be a student of come Monday.

---------------------------------------------------

The sound of the office door opening forty-five minutes later spikes your blood pressure and simultaneously makes your heart flutter, because no matter how mad at him you might be, Spencer is still Spencer.

He comes to stand behind the couch quietly, but you don’t acknowledge him. Maybe your typing gets a bit more aggressive, but aside from that you flat out reject his presence.

“Can we talk?”

You let him sweat for a minute as you finish your paragraph.

“I don’t know, Spencer. Can we? Or are you not done with your temper tantrum?”

“That is... well deserved,” he sighs, rounding the couch and tapping the bottom of your foot, signaling that he wants you to move your legs. You despise how automatically you comply, pulling your knees to your chest to avoid touching him as he sits next to you. There’s a long moment of silence, in which you resume typing. Spencer scoffs, leaning in slightly to peer at your screen. “Are you doing homework right now? I’m a complete asshole to you and you just... do your homework?"

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” you almost-yell, slamming your laptop shut and blinking away potential tears. “The only person I wanted to talk to called me stupid and fucking left!”

The tears realize their potential once you admit the blunt truth.

Spencer carefully moves your laptop and pulls you into his arms—and you just let him. There’s not much fight left in you. There wasn’t a lot to begin with.

“I am so sorry, angel. You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have yelled, I shouldn’t have said what I said, I shouldn’t have walked away. I overreacted.”

“Yeah, you really did,” you cry, allowing him to run his hand over your hair. “Why did you do that? Why were you so fucking mean?”

His voice shakes slightly as he responds, betraying his own anxieties, and a new, unwelcome sense of trepidation slithers through your veins.

“I was wondering that, too. Even as I was saying it, I knew—I knew it wasn’t what I wanted to be saying. And then I was in the other room and I wanted to be out here, and I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t. But I think I was just scared. Which—I know, doesn’t really make sense, but... I think about when Ethan dropped out of the academy, and ended up doing heroin in New Orleans for three years, and I think about when I almost left the BAU because I was so convinced I’d never get clean that I didn’t even want to anymore, and—and the idea of you losing your education and your direction like that terrified me, probably unreasonably, and I took it out on you. And I’m sorry.”

“But I’m not like you or Ethan. You don’t have to worry about that. Even if I... even I do get in some sort of disciplinary trouble. That’s a road you don’t have to worry about me going down, ever.”

He fixes some unseen wrinkle on your shirt.

“Yeah, but, remember... I used to not be like me or Ethan either. Do you think twelve-year-old Spencer would have ever even considered that of the infinite realities and universes which exist, he was living in one where someday he’d be shooting up in the bathroom at work?”

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head and burying your face in Spencer’s shoulder. The sound is more of a plea for him to be less descriptive than an answer to his rhetorical question. It’s still much easier for him to talk about that part of his life than it is for you to have to actually imagine it. You didn’t know him then, but you’ve seen pictures, and you know Spencer now, and it’s... it’s just too much. Too sad.

“Okay,” he agrees soothingly, still playing with your hair. “I digress. My point is that literally anything is possible, and while it’s not necessarily likely, I more than anyone know that anxiety even over the most improbable of things is never completely unfounded.”

You sniffle in response, too emotionally and physically exhausted to contribute much to the conversation by this point. Thankfully, Spencer can talk for two. An idiosyncrasy which you love and comes in handy every once in a while. He can play his own devil’s advocate; in this case, you.

“But that doesn’t mean I get to take it out on you. Ever. I truly, truly, sincerely apologize for that. I never want to hurt you.”

You let the apology sink into your skin like a salve, soothing every abrasion those earlier words had left in their violent wake.

After a few minutes, you find the energy to ask a question that might best remain unanswered.

“Are you still mad at me?”

He’s quiet for a beat, seemingly contemplative as his fingers trace abstract patterns in a language all his own on your arm.

“I’m not thrilled. But you were right earlier. It’s not my place to be mad at you for something like that.”

“Mm... it’s a little bit your place. You’re an actual professor.”

He chuckles.

“At an entirely different university.”

“Thank god,” you laugh. “You and me at the same school would be such an HR clusterfuck.”

While it’s almost a serious matter, the smile in his voice is evident.

“Yeah... I, uh... try not to think about it.”

“Okay, but seriously. In your professional opinion. Am I fucked? Like, do I need to prepare an appeal and character witnesses or whatever?”

Spencer sighs.

“It was incredibly reckless and irresponsible. You should be ready for disciplinary pushback from the schoolboard if you get caught. That being said... because over sixty of you got a hold of the answer key, I doubt anyone is getting expelled, and even if they did, it would likely only be the TA and the student he gave the key to. It’s my tentative, professional opinion that you’ll probably be fine.”

You relax slightly, allowing a tension you didn’t realize was there to shed like an old skin.

“I’m not gonna cheat again,” you promise on an exhale. It’s simply too much risk for too little reward.

Spencer’s response is quiet, and comes much faster than you’d expected.

“Oh, I know you aren’t. Because if you do, you’re going to have to worry about disciplinary action from me. And I’m not nearly as nice as the dean of your school, darling girl.”

But something about the way he says it—a thinly veiled threat/promise contrasted by a sweet kiss to your forehead—doesn’t exactly make academic honesty look all that exciting.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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slaybestieslay946 · 8 months

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Everything About You - Luke Castellan

Summary: You've been Luke Castellan's closest friend ever since he arrived at camp, but unbeknownst to you, he's been desperately crushing on you this whole time. And of course, the feelings are reciprocated. In hopes of getting over you, he agrees to give it a go with someone else. Will he realise how you feel before its too late?

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Ares!Reader

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 4.9k

a/n: uh sorry for shitting on that demeter girl sm, there needed to be some conflict somewhere

also please forgive me for this fic being crazy self-indulgent and therefore not up to par with my usual writing, i needed to express the obsession i have w this man otherwise I'd go INSANE

MASTERLIST

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You thought you knew everything about Luke Castellan.

After 5 years of being best friends, how could you not? You knew about the big things in his life, his damaged mother, the strained relationship with his father. You understood his anger towards the gods, the way it fuelled him to be better, work harder.

You knew about the little things too. He liked green olives, not black ones. He always stuck his leg out from under the duvet when sleeping. He sucked at tightening his armour, always convincing you to do it for him.

You could recognise each and every one of his tells. He always cracked his knuckles before sparring. He scratched the back of his neck when he was nervous.

But the one thing you didn’t know about him was the way he felt about you. You, who was normally so observant, was entirely oblivious to the gentle touches and soft looks he threw your way. And that, more than anything, was driving him crazy.

“You gotta tell her how you feel man.” Chris said to him, noticing the way his gaze would constantly stray to the Ares table. Your table.

Luke scoffed, “Yeah, right. I’d rather die…”

“Yeah, well it’s driving me nuts. All this pining. It’s-”

“Pathetic? Tell me about it.” He responded, not taking his eyes off you.

“Well, yeah. It’s pathetic. At this point, either confess your undying love, or move on.”

Luke could safely say that neither of those options sounded particularly appealing.

“There’s that new girl, y’know the one in Demeter?” Chris continued.

“What about her?”

“She’s pretty cute, don’t you think?”

Luke tore his gaze away from you to look at the girl Chris was on about. She was pretty, sure, with pale blond hair and flushed cheeks. He recognised her as one of the girls that would always sit in the fields and entertain the kids with her flower magic. But still, she couldn’t hold a candle to you.

“Yeah, she’s fine I guess.” Luke responded, noncommittal.

“See, told you so! Look, how about I set you guys up-”

“No thanks.”

“Ugh, you're no fun. Fine, just talk to the Demeter girl at the campfire tomorrow.”

Luke opened his mouth again to refuse, but Chris cut him off.

“And if you do, I’ll stop bugging you about it. Promise.”

Luke looked at his pleading face, and knew that there would be no shutting him up until he agreed.

“Fine. I’ll talk to her.”

The next morning, Luke woke up earlier than normal, so he figured he might as well get some extra training in before capture the flag in the afternoon.

He climbed out of bed as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb his many, sleeping, half-siblings, and grabbed his sword, stepping out of the cabin into the fresh morning air. He jogged down towards the amphitheatre, and was confused for a moment when he could hear movement inside the small arena.

Then, as he walked closer to the entrance, he realised it was you, slashing dummies left right and centre. And, gods, the sight took his breath away.

The early morning sun shone on your face, highlighting your sharp features. You moved like a dancer, and the sword in your hand was merely an extension of your body. Yes, they called him the best swordsman in the last 300 years, but his technique couldn’t compare to the grace of the favourite daughter of Ares.

He watched you for a few more minutes, standing just in the entrance to the amphitheatre, until he realised it might be a little creepy to stand there and watch you, so he decided to make himself known.

“What are you doing up so early?” He called out, striding forwards towards you.

You quickly spun around, a shocked expression on your face that softened into a fond smile when you realised it was just Luke who had snuck up on you.

“Oh, y’know, just preparing to beat your ass later on.”

“Aw, really? Hate to break it to you, but you don’t stand a chance.”

“Wanna test that, soldier?” You smirked, gesturing to the sword in this hand.

Luke laughed, stabbing the sword into the sandy floor and cracking his knuckles, meanwhile you took up an offensive stance.

And, as soon as he picked up his sword, you were on him, ruthlessly slashing through the air, and he barely had enough time to block the blow before you sliced through his face. He returned your strikes with equal vigour, moving with the precision and technique that he was so famous for.

With the way the pair of you fought, anyone would think you hated one another, trading blow for violent blow, both of you refusing to hold back.

Of course, it was the complete opposite, but that had never stopped the pair of you from sparring so aggressively.

The session went on for close to half an hour, neither of you wanting to surrender to the other. Eventually you were bested, as Luke sent your sword flying from your hand, holding his own up to your throat.

You held your hands up in defeat, rolling your eyes at him, before moving to sit down at the edge of the arena.

“I’m still gonna win in capture the flag today.” You remarked, your voice strained from physical exercise, but jovial nonetheless.

“As talented as you are,” He responded, sitting down next to you, “You're not gonna be able to beat Annie’s new strategy.”

“And what might that be?” You said, shuffling closer to the boy.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teased.

You pretended to sulk at that, turning your body away from him in the process. Luke frowned, pulling your arm to turn you to face him again.

“Don’t be sad. Even if I told you you still wouldn’t win.”

“Whatever. Asshole.” You mumbled.

“What did you call me?” He asked, accusatory, and you quickly made your escape, running out of the amphitheatre to avoid his wrath.

But, of course, he managed to catch up with you easily, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked.

Somehow, you both telepathically communicated a need for breakfast, and your feet naturally led you both to the pavilion.

“I’ll see you later on, yeah?” You asked, detaching yourself from him to look him in the eyes.

“Mhm. Can’t wait to kick your ass.”

You laughed, cocking your head at him, “Why are you thinking about my ass Castellan? Bit weird.”

And then you were striding away towards Clarisse, leaving the Hermes cabin counsellor frozen, a faint blush covering his face.

Maybe Chris was right. His addiction to you was getting slightly out of hand.

“That boy is so obsessed with you.” Clarisse muttered, her voice derisive as you sat down opposite her.

“Who? Luke?”

“Who else?”

“Nah, no way.” You responded, chuckling as you grabbed a slice of toast from the centre of the table.

Clarisse rolled her eyes. How oblivious could you be?

“Whatever. As long as your little romance doesn’t get in the way this afternoon.”

“No chance. Besides, there is no romance. Gods, you’re just as bad as Silena!” You laughed, slightly sheepishly.

“Rude. But still, she’s right about these things like 90% of the time.”

Silena had been trying to get you to admit that you liked Luke for months, but each time she brought it up you would staunchly deny it. Of course, you were lying through your teeth, but it’s not like you could just admit something like that. It would open up a whole can of worms that you didn’t need.

“Yeah, well this is the 10% then.” You shrugged, taking another bite of your toast.

“You’re impossible.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. You know I’m your favourite sibling.”

“You were my favourite. I don’t know anymore.”

“Bitch.”

When Ares and Hermes were on opposing teams, suddenly capture the flag became even more serious.

Ares, of course, was the warrior cabin. Their father was the god of war, making them the most feared in combat. And, most of Camp half-blood was scared shitless of you and Clarisse.

Then there was Hermes, and their automatic alliance with Athena. That meant they had Luke, the camp's star swordsman, and Annabeth and her siblings, who always came up with the best strategies.

It was safe to say that when they weren’t competing against each other, it was painfully boring.

You only had about half an hour before the game started, so after you had secured your armour and recovered your sword from the amphitheatre, you decided to seek out Annabeth, both because you enjoyed her company, and because she may spill something about her new strategy.

“Hey, Annabeth!” You called out, and the young girl spun around to give you a little smile.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to see how things are going over here, y’know, scope out the competition.”

“I’m not gonna tell you our strategy.” She deadpanned.

“Damnit. Oh well. What’ve you been up to, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

It was true, you hadn’t spoken to Annabeth for a few days, nor had you even seen her.

“She’s been too busy stalking the new kid.” Luke’s voice interjected and he stepped out of seemingly nowhere to pat the girl's head.

“Shut up! No I haven’t.” She sulked, pushing him off of her.

“Wait, which new kid is this? Percy?” You asked.

You’d seen Luke show the boy around camp. You’d been briefly introduced, but you hadn’t spoken to him all that much. The only other thing you knew about him was that Clarisse had a bit of an issue with him. Well, she had an issue with a lot of people, so that wasn’t exactly new.

“Yep. Can you believe it? My little sister has a crush!” Luke exclaimed, holding a hand to his chest.

Annabeth then gave him a small shove, before something clearly occurred to her, and she gave him that look that meant she had something on him. And whatever the blackmail was, it worked as he immediately held his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry! You could never like a boy, I know that!”

Annabeth didn’t respond, simply glaring at him whilst you laughed. Sometimes, she really was intimidating. Despite being only 12 years old, she had a stare harsher than medusa.

“Anyway. You need to get going, otherwise you're definitely gonna lose.” Luke said, pushing you away by your breastplate.

“Fine.” You said, and were about to walk away when you noticed his own armour, as usual, wasn't done up properly.

You walked back towards him, sighing, and grabbed the straps on either side of his body, pulling them taut, doing the same for the guards on his forearms.

“You seriously need to learn how to do these yourself, soldier. One day, I might not be here to do them for you.”

“That’s not true. You’ll always be with me.” He whispered, more hopeful than certain about his statement.

You just rolled your eyes, grabbing his helmet out of his hands to push it on his head.

“There. Can’t have someone hurting your pretty face, can we?”

“Uh-”

“Bye, have fun losing!” You laughed, and then you were walking away, once again leaving a malfunctioning Luke in your wake.

“And you say I have a crush.” Annabeth snorted.

“Shut up.”

Pretty much as soon as you made it back to your team, the conch sounded, and Clarisse shouted at you to ‘get your ass over here’.

She then quickly outlined her plan to you as you both made your way deeper into the woods, the rest of your team splitting off at different points as you went.

You two, as well as a few others, were to be on the offensive, searching for the flag, meanwhile the rest of your team were either guarding the flag, or serving as distractions. It was a pretty typical strategy, but it had every chance of working, as long as you two were able to work out roughly where the other team's flag was.

“Well, I’m pretty sure it won’t be at Zeus’ fist this time, that’s where Annabeth put it last time, and apparently she has a new strategy.”

“She could be lying to you?”

“Yeah, I guess. But it’s a place to start.” Clarisse reluctantly agreed, and the two of you moved further into the woods.

Along the way you came across a few of the blue team on border patrol, and the pair of you quickly disarmed them, you with your sword, and Clarisse with her electric staff.

You made your way down to the south edge of the woods, and it appeared that the number of blue troops were decreasing. Normally you would take that as meaning the flag wasn’t this way, but knowing Annabeth that could be some kind of purposeful bluff, so you kept going, until eventually you reached a dead end and had to choose a different direction.

“Ugh, the others better be closer than us I swear. I’m not losing again.” Your sibling said, batting aside a tree branch with her crackling staff.

“Yeah. I’m sick of having to listen to Castellan gloat.” You sighed, although the noise was more fond than anything else.

Clarisse rolled her eyes at your inability to keep him out of a conversation.

Then, there was a sudden noise of people crashing through the trees. You both raised your weapons, ready to defend yourselves, when you realised that they wore red helmets and were in fact, your siblings.

“Oi, Clarisse, we heard some of them talking that they’ve got the flag down at the creek! And that brat Jackson’s guarding it!”

You noticed the way Clarisse’s eyes filled with anger (and a little bloodlust).

“You keep going,” She said, “I’ll check it out with them.” She then patted you on the back and spun around, sprinting off into the woods.

“DUMBASS! IT’S PROBABLY A TRAP!” You yelled, cupping your free hand to your mouth, but either she didn’t hear you, or she didn’t care, because she gave no response.

You sighed, unable to believe how gullible your sister could be sometimes. But, you had nothing better to do than keep searching for the flag, so you kept walking, slashing through the undergrowth with your sword as you went.

Eventually you felt like you had covered the entire forest, and at a certain point you weren’t entirely sure if you were still in enemy territory or not.

That was until Luke Castellan burst into the clearing holding your flag.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He smirked.

“Asshole.” You snapped, immediately leaping at him, sword in hand, just as you had during sparring that morning. God he loved your temper.

You then began to battle one another with even more zeal than earlier, your slashes quicker and your blows harder as you moved. It was strange the way you two sparred, it was like as soon as you were in combat you forgot that he was your closest friend and that you would die for him in a heartbeat. Instead all you could think about was winning.

He was so annoyingly graceful as he moved, each swish of his sword perfectly calculated to hit at a certain spot, each block and parry almost perfectly executed.

Of course, your anger at his flawless technique was only further intensified when you realised that one: he didn’t have a shield, and two: he was holding his sword in his non-dominant hand, with the flag in his dominant one.

You ground your teeth at that. How could you expect to ever beat him if he held his own so easily? Whenever you watched Luke Castellan fight, you couldn’t help but wonder how he was a son of Hermes, and not a son of Athena or Ares.

And, as always, he defeated you eventually.

He threw a blow at you that you couldn’t quite block, and the force of it sent you toppling backwards, and landing on your ass. He quickly lunged down too, pinning you to the floor and holding his sword to your throat, so close that it almost broke skin.

“Do you surrender?” He asked, grinning smugly down at you, and you couldn’t help but notice just how close his face was to yours.

“Never.” You spat, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

He sighed fondly, before moving upwards to press a quick kiss to your forehead and saying, “You’re so cute, y’know that?”

Now it was your turn to be left malfunctioning, your face bright red with astonishment as he leapt off of you, and ran away into the forest, leaving you behind, on the floor, and completely and utterly frozen.

And then you came back to your senses, pushing yourself off the floor and chasing after him.

“LUKE CASTELLAN, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” You screamed, sprinting through the woods as fast as you could, but you knew there was nothing you could do to catch up, and you could faintly hear him laughing as those stupid long legs carried him over into friendly territory.

It appeared that a lot had happened during that game of capture the flag.

Luke had gotten your flag, and was about to go over and taunt Clarisse about it, but he immediately saw that she was even angrier than usual, and seemed genuinely upset.

He quickly went over to ask Annabeth what was going on, watching as you ran over to console her.

“Percy broke her staff.” She said, pointing to the shattered piece of wood in Clarisse’s right hand.

Luke winced. He knew how precious the girl was about that staff; it was the only token she had from her father. He was surprised Percy was even still breathing right now.

“Wait, where is Percy?” Luke asked.

“With Chiron. He got claimed.”

“What? By who-?”

“Posiedon.”

The boy’s jaw dropped.

“You’re joking. No fucking way.”

“Tell me about it. He could be the one, Luke.” The younger girl said, her voice quiet and hopeful.

“Hm. He could be. Don’t get your hopes up too high though, yeah?”

Annabeth sighed, but nodded nonetheless.

Luke then gave her a quick pat on the shoulder, before beginning to walk away, intending to get a shower in before dinner, but Annabeth quickly stopped him in his tracks.

“Where are you going? It’s dinner, silly!”

“What, no it’s not-”

“Yes, it is. Campfire tonight, remember? Early dinner? C’mon, you’ve only been here for what, five years?”

Luke groaned, and suddenly all the adrenaline from Percy being claimed, and from winning capture the flag melted away, as he remembered the deal he had made with Chris the night before.

He traipsed behind the daughter of Athena on the way to the dining pavilion, suddenly dreading the rest of the evening.

As the pair entered the building, a cheer went up from the Hermes and Athena table, a few of their respective siblings rushing over to give them pats on the back and congratulations for their efforts.

Luke laughed along with them, eventually being dragged away from his sister to his own table.

Then dinner began, and it was as loud and raucous as usual, maybe even more so coming off the back of a capture the flag victory. But Luke was unusually quiet, pushing his food around his plate and taking the odd sullen bite. He could feel Chris’ eyes on him, probably pissed off he was sulking again, but he didn’t really care.

He could also feel another gaze on him, and he looked up, expecting it to be you, giving him a feeble glare or mouthing some stupid insult. But instead it was the girl from the Demeter table, twisting a lock of hair around her finger and smiling sweetly at him.

The boy felt slightly disappointed, but masked it with a grin of his own, winking at the girl before returning to his food.

He felt that strange sinking feeling in his stomach as he continued to eat, but decided to push it away. What choice did he have? It’s not like you’d ever reciprocate his feelings, so maybe Chris was right and he should give someone else a chance. Besides, how bad could it be?

As it turned out, it could be really bad.

Ok, maybe that was an overstatement. Really boring was probably more accurate.

As soon as they got to the campfire, Chris disappeared, but not before practically shoving Luke down beside the girl from Demeter, who let out a high-pitched giggle as he fell into her slightly.

And gods he wished he hadn’t agreed to his friends stupid plan. Because he then had to spend the rest of the evening being obnoxiously flirted with. And sure, she was nice, and quite pretty, but not in the way that mattered.

She didn’t take his breath away like you did. He couldn’t imagine searching for her face in a crowd. The whole thing was just dull.

And her laughter was grating. Really grating. There was no way she thought he was that funny, especially when he was giving mostly one word responses.

They had nothing in common. She liked lounging about in fields, playing games and making flower crowns, whereas Luke couldn’t think of anything worse. He’d much rather spend an afternoon sparring, or at archery, or even swimming in the lake.

All the things you liked to do.

He tried to push the thought to the back of his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you, not whilst another girl was clamouring for his attention. It was cruel. But he couldn’t help himself.

And eventually he gave in, switching off from the conversation and settling for observing you through the flames.

Your hair was down right now, like it only ever was at dinners and in the early morning. You lounged back comfortably on the benches, smiling lazily and joking around with Clarisse and Silena. Your face was lit up by the flickering flames, complimenting you so well, like they just wanted to be near you, close to you. He couldn’t blame them.

And then your eyes met his across the fire, and he thought his heart was about to combust with the way you smiled at him. He recognised that smile. It was the one you reserved just for him.

At that moment he steeled his resolve to reject this Demeter girl, grab on to you and never let go.

But as he was about to do just that, he felt a slender hand wrap around his bicep, and he turned to the blonde girl next to him. And without any warning, she reached up and kissed him, snaking her arms up and around his neck.

He pulled away after a second, shock written all over his face. He quickly whipped around, looking to see if you saw that, praying that you hadn’t.

But you had. And you seemed just as shocked as he was, except there was something else in your eyes. Hurt.

Why were you hurt?

As you walked away from the campfire, you couldn’t help but ask yourself the same question. Why were you so hurt?

You had known for years that your pathetic crush on Luke would never amount to anything. He was just way out of your league. Perfect in every way.

He was so smart, and kind, and funny, and well-liked, and you just couldn’t compete with that. You were rough, and mean, and cruel, and angry. Why would he love someone like you?

Of course, you hadn’t seen the daughter of Demeter coming. But maybe you should’ve. She was everything Luke should want in a girl, gentle, sweet, feminine. Someone fit to be a girlfriend.

And let's face it. You were much more skilled in matters of the sword than matters of the heart.

You had always known this day would come. Eventually you’d have to let go of your best friend and come to terms with the fact that you weren’t the most important person in his life anymore (besides Annabeth).

So why were you so devastated?

You reasoned that it had to be the shock. Yes, it was surprising, that’s why you were reacting like this, running away from the campfire like a child, foolishly hoping that he would come running after him, when of course he wouldn’t. He’d stay with his new girlfriend.

“Hey!”

You whipped around, shocked to see the very boy you were just pining after running up to you.

“What?” You asked, snapping at him slightly, and immediately regretting it as he took on the look of a kicked puppy.

“Why’d you run away from the campfire?”

“Just needed some air.”

“You sure? I mean you look kinda-”

“I’m fine! Just fine! Now you can go back to your little girlfriend and leave me alone!” You burst out, waving your hands around manically.

He looked shocked by your sudden shouting, probably because you had only genuinely been angry with him about three times in your whole friendship.

“Sorry. Just give me a minute, ok?” You said, your voice shuddering slightly. God it was pathetic, getting so worked up over a boy? You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. You then turned around and began to walk away, but didn’t get far before a hand grabbed yours pulling you back.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He said firmly.

“What?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t even really know her name.”

He then apparently realised how that sounded, because he quickly amended his statement.

“Not like that. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t like her like that. She just kinda grabbed me.”

You stammered slightly, trying to regain composure. Right now you looked like a jealous loser, and while that is what you were, you didn’t want him to see you like that.

“Ok cool. I don’t care, y’know. Kiss whoever you want, man, not my problem!” You laughed although it was painfully strained.

“Again, not what I’m trying to say.” He said, scratching the back of his neck. Nervous.

“So what are you-”

“I’m trying to say I’m in love with you!” He rushed out, holding you by the shoulders and staring directly into your eyes to try and get his point across.

“What?” You whispered, once again not able to believe your ears.

“I said I’m in love with you,” He repeated, slower this time, his voice more even, “I’ve been in love with you for so long, you have no idea. I was only talking to that girl ‘cause I thought I’d never have a chance with you. But then I realised that I don’t want some other girl. I only want you.”

You took in a sharp intake of breath, scanning his face for any sign of insincerity.

“You’re being serious?” You asked.

“Deadly serious.” He responded immediately, smiling sheepishly.

You paused for a minute, before whispering, “I love you too.”

Only then did he finally make his move, holding you gently by the face and bending down to kiss you.

And it was like a piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place. It was painfully cliche, and it felt like you were in some dumb rom com, but kissing him really was like fireworks going off all over your body.

He clearly felt the same way, holding you by the back of the head and pulling you in further, closer, like he didn’t want to be apart from him ever again.

Eventually you both pulled away for air, and he looked at you with a smile of pure joy, until the shock of the whole situation hit him.

“Wait, so you really mean it?”

“I mean, I did just let you kiss me, didn’t I?”

“Good point. Sorry, I’m just a little surprised.”

“Fair enough. I mean, I had no idea you felt the same way.” You laughed, all the previous tension ebbing from your body.

“What, really?” He asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Yes, really! How was I supposed to know? Besides, I didn’t think I was really your type.”

At that his eyes practically bulged out of his head in shock, more so than any other time that night.

“Not my type? You’re entirely my type! Not like it matters anyway when you're the most perfect girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

You frowned, “Now you're just lying to me, Luke.”

“No I’m not. You're everything I’ve ever wanted. The only girl I’ve ever wanted.” He said firmly.

You looked at him, still slightly doubtful, but he was determined to fix that.

So he kissed you again, and suddenly all your doubts were swept away in his strong embrace as he kissed you like it was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“Believe me now?”

“Yeah. And, I guess you’re pretty great too.”

He looked at you teasingly, daring you to elaborate, and for once you decided to stroke his ego.

“Fine. You're the most handsome, funny, charming man I’ve ever met in my life.”

That clearly satisfied him, because a wide grin wriggled its way across his face that you couldn’t help but mirror, because you both knew you meant every word.

“So does this mean you’ll give me a chance?”

“Yes. I’d give you a hundred chances.”

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x reader #x reader #fluff #romance #minor angst #fanfic #writing #luke castellan #jealousy

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hauntedrain · 2 months

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F1 Drivers First Date Headcanons .ೃ࿐

✧*̥˚ Includes Charles, Max, and Oscar. *̥˚✧

✮▹A/N: IT'S BEEN FOREVER, and to be fair I didn't write this recently, it's been in my drafts. but I hope it's okay for now. I've been having a writing block for a long time and haven't had inspo to write anything. I can make more parts if requested.

✰▹Warnings/Notices: maybe unrealistic a bit, honestly kinda a shit post, fr tho not anything mad just fluff. NOT EDITED, NOT PROOFREAD.

Charles Leclerc ⋆୨୧˚

would definitely be really worried about the date. Not that he's scared about you or anything, but about if he planned the right thing, picked the right outfit, or something along those lines. He just wants to make a good "first impression".

He would be Facetiming/texting Pierre or Arthur every 10 minutes for confirmation and reassurance. "Be honest, do these pants make me look stupid. I can't have her thinking I'm stupid, and can't properly dress myself." He asks while fixing his hair for the 100th time on Facetime. " Charlie, if you're calling me this much then maybe, just maybe... You can't dress yourself properly." "Not funny, but for real. Is this fine?"

He would probably get even more nervous as he meets up with you or picks you up like would be messing with his bracelets, blushing or sheepishly smiling a lot. But after a while, he would calm down and get more confident being around you and talking to you.

He probably asks himself how he was even able to ask you out in the first place considering how nervous he is right now.

For the date idea, he would really want it to be something that you would enjoy. He would message you or ask your friends what your favorite things are and things to do.

Max Verstappen ✧.*

I think he would be more collected when talking about first dates, however, he would still be nervous about certain things. Would it go well? Is the only reason you like him for his title? What if it's really awkward?

But by the time he's there and starts talking to you those worries fade away and he starts to open up more and be more him. He would definitely not be able to keep a smile off his face after that.

I think the first date you guys would have is just talking over dinner, nothing too crazy, but he also wouldn't want to plan something boring so maybe you guys would do something afterward. Like a walk around a park or going into small stores on the way home? Idk but something that wouldn't just be a simple dinner.

I feel like during the first date, if he doesn't already know you, he tries to get to know you well. He wouldn't just be asking questions like "What your favorite color?", "Favorite season?", etc. Not that its inherently wrong to want to know but he wants something different, like knowing a deep passion or dream of yours. Or even memories and moments throughout your life. Something deeper.

Oscar Piastri *ೃ༄

I think he would want to do something more casual as a first date. Something like a picnic or going to a cafe. But at the end of the day if you just wanted a dinner somewhere he would be fine with that too.

I don't feel like he would be nervous like others are nervous for first dates, he would be more nervous about just going out and doing things than if the actual date goes well.

Like not freaking out about what to wear, or first impressions, but worrying if this is the right thing to do, or if the date plan was enough (kind of like how Charles cares about what the date was for you.)

Maybe brings a few flowers or something small, especially if you guys already knew each other. He would try a nice gesture but nothing to crazy, just something sweet and simple.

⭒❃.✮:▹A/N: It's been FOREVER since I posted actual writing. I apologize if this makes no sense or is stupid, this has been in my drafts forever and I never really went back over it before now. I've been out of ideas so plz request something! I will literally write for anyone about anything (in reason)

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astradyke · 2 months

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okay yeah let's get freaky with it (not an acceptable way to start a post whatsoever) i cannot stop THINKING about this fucking We're All Doomed cap. like just in the last TWO days...

[ID: photo one is of Phil Lester in the hospital, wearing the We're All Doomed cap. photo two is of Phil Lester in a pool, in which the We're All Doomed hat is laying on the edge of the pool. end ID.]

and then not to mention all the latest videos...

[id: photo of Phil wearing the We're All Doomed hat]

(there are definitely more but i'm multitasking so i can't sleuth out the videos rn)

like, when i am trying to describe Dan and Phil as a phenomena to my friends i always mention the fact that Phil is like THE consistent hype person for Dan (vise-versa but focusing on Phil here). "Dan is leaving me" is obviously an insane video about their relationship but also spends a substantial time promoting We're All Doomed; "I TRY TO GIVE DAN A HAIRCUT!!" is basically just YWGTTN promo. What Dan and Phil Text Each Other 2 (iirc) Phil encourages Dan to talk vaguely about upcoming stuff, etc. like Phil is ALWAYS so crazy supportive of what Dan does

from the mukbang "I wanted you to be happy [...] you did loads of shit on your own" (quoting from memory)

but something about the We're All Doomed hat feels DIFFERENT to me fundamentally because it's just... such a casual thing? they're no stranger to using their old merch, or wearing merch in videos after its release, but Phil literally cannot be separated from this hat as a guy who never seemed to be that crazy about hats to begin with. but it's just such a casual presence in his life, like a must-have object, it goes with him everywhere from Türkiye to the A&E, just this constant support for Dan's solo work.

when Dan says in Basically I'm Gay: "And for someone who has dealt with the same kind of self hatred I have, one person accepting you makes all the difference." (quoting from memory again),

it's like. there is such a love confession in the sheer act of seeing someone's creative work, something they poured their life and soul and savings into, and holding THAT in your palms -- and loving it. Phil was part of the WAD pre and post show, Phil was listed in the credits, even in Why I Left YouTube Phil's presence is there in the fact that he was patient as Dan tried to pursue Dan Is Not Okay, even at the potential risk of them postponing moving. don't even talk to me about how Phil was involved in Dystopia Daily, not only as a guest but also working on the set too.

holding something that has as much meaning as We're All Doomed does to its creator and not only loving it in the moment, not only relentlessly promoting it, not only being part of the premiere, but also continuously wearing its merch -- it's such an embrace from Phil of not only Dan as a person, but who Dan is creatively, and the ways he expresses himself.

and considering all the thematics of We're All Doomed, the hope and the new era and the self acceptance... yeah. fucking YEAH.

we talk a lot about different kinds of love and all the different ways they love each other, and i think this has always been the loudest and what i've personally been most affected by. the way that Phil Lester became a safe and accepting place for Dan Howell back when he was eighteen, and how he never fucking stopped being that place for him since.

#dan and phil #phan #sorry i wrote an essay. i have a lot of feelings about the hat.#astra.txt

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taintedcigs · 1 year

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dancing with our hands tied part II — s.h

you can find part I here

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, minors dni!!, ANGST, making out, swearing, drinking, alcohol mention, JEALOUSY!!! eddie's a bit of an asshole i am sorry, but so is steve sometimes!! and so is reader? idk!

summary: in which steve is in love with his best friend's ex. (wc: 8k+)

a/n: this is part 2 of this fic here !! pls make sure to read it before this!! anddd, im sorry for how confusing the first part was, BUT HERE'S THE HIDEOUT INCIDENT!! and i didn't use POVs this time and i kinda gave up on dates ugrhh. also i have a little bonus content at the end even tho its so a lil silly!!! also did not proof-read this, pls ignore any mistakes or ill scream n d*e

Friday, February 7, 1986 || The Hideout.

Steve stole a glance in your direction, and immediately realized the mistake he had made.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Why did you have to be so fucking perfect? Why did you have to have the most contagious laugh that immediately brought a warm smile to his lips?

Steve leaned against the bar as he watched you further, reveling at the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you gave Robin a giggle, nose scrunching as you mimicked whatever story you were telling, drawing him in without even having a clue on the effect you had on him.

Your eyes met his for a brief moment, his heart pounded inside of his ribcage when you looked at him like that, as if your eyes were smiling at him. He held your gaze, giving you a subtle nod.

God, if Steve didn’t tell you how he felt about you soon, he was sure he was going to explode.

He turned back to the bar, head filled with the idea of opening up to you, he had to do it soon or else—

“Harrington!” Eddie beamed, interrupting his thoughts as he grabbed onto Steve’s shoulders, “You mind helpin’ me out?” He grinned, causing Steve’s brows to furrow.

“Can you put in a good word for me?” Eddie muttered, hand pointing toward the booth, “What are you talking about?” Steve muttered, his eyes following him.

“Y/N.” Steve hoped to God that Eddie didn’t notice the shock in his eyes, blinking quickly as he tried to control the jealousy building within him.

“I swear I’ve had the biggest crush on her,” Eddie exclaimed. Steve couldn’t help the way his face fell; he wondered if Eddie could notice it, but by the way he grinned at you, Eddie probably had no fucking clue about his feelings for you.

“Since when?” Steve sounded bitter, chewing at the inside of his mouth to stop himself, “Uh, since forever, dude,” Eddie said, chuckling.

“Put in a little good word for me, yea? I know you guys are close and shit,” Eddie gushed as he squeezed Steve’s shoulders again, and Steve was tense now, his entire body almost burning with rage and resentment.

Maybe it was wrong for Steve to be petty about this; maybe it wasn’t fair to you that he spent the rest of the night ignoring you; maybe it wasn’t right for him to act this way, but Steve had been on this rodeo before.

He was always the second choice, and he knew that he was never going to be someone’s priority. Because of that, his reaction was warranted; at least that’s what he believed. Ignoring you completely while he bitterly watched Eddie make moves on you was the only way he could cope with it.

And it was driving him crazy, knowing that Eddie was getting under your skin with the advice he got from Steve and learning everything about you from him.

At first, it was all just some passive aggressiveness, until it turned into something bigger, until you finally couldn’t take it anymore.

Because there stood Steve, across from the gang’s booth, leaning over the wall as he whispered something into Tammy’s ear—Steve’s ex.

With her shiny blonde hair and her big eyes, she threw him a hearty giggle, sticking to his side, while Steve barely blinked, allowing her to drool all over him.

You had no right to be jealous, not when Steve had no clue about your feelings, not when Steve didn’t owe you a thing, but you couldn’t help the frown on your face as he ignored you all night and was fine with stupid Tammy Thompson being all over him.

Your throat burned with the number of shots you took, you could never handle your tequila, but the numbness was exactly what you needed. Your mind was getting dizzier with Steve being pushed back into your thoughts.

You could feel yourself getting lighter and lighter with each sip, gaze barely holding over Steve’s direction anymore when Eddie had been keeping you company the whole night.

To think Steve was supposed to be your close friend felt like a joke now. The more he was with the blondie, the more you felt your stomach churning, gaze drifting toward Eddie to keep yourself from looking in his direction.

You felt desperate.

Steve probably saw you as the girl who was wrapped around his finger, the girl who followed him around like a puppy. Maybe that’s why he was ignoring you, trying to keep you from clinging to him.

You fidgeted in your seat; not being able to get up and tear her off of him was killing you, and your head was pounding because of the amount alcohol in your system.

It was getting harder to ignore the jealousy that gnawed at your insides.

Eddie didn’t seem to notice anything, but Steve did.

With each shot you took, with each step you took closer to Eddie, Steve couldn’t help the sharp pain he felt in his chest, the same rage of jealousy gnawing at him as well. He knew he couldn’t do anything about it, too, so he buried it deeper and deeper until he could make sure those feelings for you were impossible to reach.

You were going to be dating Eddie, and Steve needed to get over you as fast as he could.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t mind the attention coming from his ex.

By the time Steve arrived back at the booth, Nancy and Jonathan were already gone, you were in the bathroom—possibly puking your guts out, and Robin was getting ready to leave.

“What the fuck happened here?” He asked, concern washing over his face. “She drank a bit too much,” Robin mumbled, knowing how much Steve cared about you.

“You should maybe check on her, yea?” She gave Steve an all-knowing look, causing him to shrug.

“I can’t—” Robin interrupted him with a death glare.

“I would, but I have to go or my mom will actually kill me this time,” She groaned, saying her goodbyes before leaving in a hurry.

“Dude, I gotta bail too,” Eddie puffed his cheeks as he put on his leather jacket. “What?” Steve asked, baffled.

“She’s wasted!” He exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up quickly, causing Eddie to shrug, “She’s probably puking her guts out right now, she needs you.” Steve’s eyes narrowed; he couldn’t believe that Eddie would even think about leaving you alone in a condition like this.

“Gross, dude,” Eddie said, making a face as he cringed, causing Steve to roll his eyes.

“Real fuckin’ mature, Munson.”

“You drop her home, man, I’m too fuckin’ hammered for all of this.” He gave Steve’s shoulder another tight squeeze; this time Steve was sure his blood was boiling, his eyes darkening with each word Eddie spoke.

This asshole had the audacity to use him to try to date you, and he couldn’t even fucking treat you, right? Steve shook off his thoughts before he could do something he knew he would regret.

Eddie was his best friend, and he could never let his feelings for you get in the way of you actually being happy.

“Are you going to get a cab?” Steve asked, “Yeah,” Eddie muttered mindlessly.

“Then give me your jacket.” Steve’s tone was now cold, almost demanding, and his demeanor changing within seconds was throwing Eddie off,

“No fuckin’ way,” Eddie chuckled mockingly, he didn’t notice the serious gaze Steve holds.

“Dude, your house is five minutes away, you’ll be fine, just give me your jacket,” He demanded again.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Eddie spat.

“Because you asshole, it’s the middle of February and Y/N is wearing a fucking dress, it’s the least you could do for leaving her like that.”

“Why don’t you give her yours?” Steve didn’t know how to control the rage coursing through his veins.

“Do you see me wearing a fucking jacket?” Eddie was sure he had never seen Steve like this, with those veins in his forehead visible as he could feel his fists clench. Eddie’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by Steve’s bizarre behavior.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie mumbled before taking off the jacket with a few huffs escaping from his lips.

“There, you happy, man?” Eddie hissed, almost tossing the jacket toward Steve, “Fucking ecstatic,” Steve replied with an angry smirk.

Steve sighed before he made his way to the bathroom. Not knowing what was waiting for him inside, he knocked on the door hesitantly and asked, “Y–you okay?” The shakiness in his voice was exposing him.

A faint ‘Yeah’ was all he heard before you unlocked the door.

And there you laid on the dirty bathroom tiles, your hair disheveled, make-up smudged, and you could barely get your head up from the toilet seat.

Steve’s heart sank, guilt settling in his insides again like an old friend. He knew he couldn’t always take care of you, and he knew that you’d be with Eddie soon, but he couldn’t help but feel the crushing weight of guilt when all of this could’ve been avoided if he was just there for you.

And his mind was still reeling about the fact that Eddie dared to leave you like this.

Would the fucker even be able to treat you right?

“Want me to help you?” He asked, hands itching to reach out and hold you, but you dismissed him like it was nothing, like he didn’t mean anything to you anymore, and it had only been an hour since Steve had learned that Eddie was into you.

“No,” Even when you were this messed up, you held onto your grudge, shutting out any feelings of understanding or empathy toward Steve, even though he was only trying to help you out.

“I can help, to, you know—hold your hair and stuff,” He stuttered, he had never been this nervous around you.

You flushed the toilet as you attempted to get up, “I’m not—I didn’t throw up,” Your words were slurred.

“If you… if you feel like throwing up, I can—”

“No!” You exclaimed a bit too loudly, throwing him a cold stare. “I’m just trying to help you, Y/N.” His tone sounded disappointed, but you could care less when he had acted like a jerk most of the night.

“I don’t need your help,” You snapped while flushing the toilet, trying to stand still, your head growing dizzier each time you moved.

Steve breathed a heavy sigh and said, “Here.” He ignored your protests as he helped you up, warm hands were tight around your waist. If you weren’t this embarrassingly drunk and a huge mess, you would’ve started getting your hopes up.

But not after today, not after he ignored you to be with Tammy Thompson all fucking night.

“I got it!” You spat, trying to free yourself from his hold. “Let me help, please.” This was the most genuine he had been tonight, his voice almost pleading as he threw you that pitiful look, and you hated it.

You hated being the one Steve pitied and not the one he pined after, but you swallowed your pride when you realized you couldn’t even walk properly.

You barely questioned everyone’s absence when your mind was filled with Steve.

And once he dragged you out of the bar, you couldn’t help the petty words that escaped your lips; you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to.

“You can get back to your girlfriend now,” You muttered bitterly, your voice clear. There was venom in your tone, and your grudge was poison with the way it seeped into your words.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Steve sighed, and you lightly pushed him off of you as you stood still on your own.

“Does the name Tammy Thompson ring a bell?” You narrowed your eyes. You wish you could tape your mouth right now and stop yourself from spilling so much of your feelings to Steve.

“What does that have to do with anything, Y/N?” His tone remained cold now; your heart was in his hands, and he was squeezing it each time he distanced himself from you.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” Each time you dismissed him, you unknowingly tore open the old wound in his heart, keeping it fresh.

“If—if you wanted to take care of me so badly, then why did you ignore me all fuckin’ night?” Your face heated with anger, and your tone was tinged with frustration.

“Should go back to fuckin’ blondie over there,” You muttered under your breath, avoiding eye contact with him, unable to conceal the bitterness you were holding onto.

“Oh my god,” The realization dawned on Steve at a crawl.

You were jealous of him.

“You are jealous,” Steve couldn’t help the annoying smile on his lips, much to your dismay. You were jealous of him, and as selfish as it was, it was amusing to him.

“What?” You snapped, eyes narrowing, “I’m not jealous—” The look Steve threw at you was enough to break you. “Jerk,” You mumbled under your breath. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, it dooooeees,” He said, dragging his words out to annoy you further, as he took a step closer to you, almost closing the distance that he had been keen on protecting the entire night.

He was frustrating, so fucking frustrating, spinning your head faster than all the booze in your system. You couldn’t help the way your eyes grew mellow when he looked at you like that, you wanted to take all of him in.

This entire day was beginning to grow tiring, from Eddie’s sudden interest in you to Steve’s emotional whiplash, and now, since you couldn’t keep your mouth shut for one goddamn second, he was aware of your unnecessary jealousy.

“I’m not doin’ this with you,” You slurred again, hands wrapping around yourself almost as an attempt to conceal yourself from him, he could see right through you, and it was making you feel things you were not ready for.

“W—where is Eddie?” Those were the worst three words that could come out of your mouth. Just when Steve was basking in the glory and the hope that you were jealous of him, you decided to bring up Eddie, and with just his name rolling off your lips, you were re-opening his wounds.

Why not him?

Why was it never Steve?

Steve gulped; physically, he wasn’t sure what step to take would be better, to put a distance between you and him or to put a distance between him and Eddie.

And even though he knew he would regret doing this like there’s no tomorrow, even though Eddie doesn’t fucking deserve this decency, or you, Steve decided that he can’t do this to his friend.

“At least he’ll take me home!” You exclaimed so confidently that Steve couldn’t help the dry chuckle that escaped his lips.

“Yeah, I’m sure he would.” Steve quipped, grinning. He was mocking you again, unaware of your growing frustrations.

“What the hell is your problem?” You narrowed your eyes. “Unlike you, he didn’t ignore me all night to be with his ex, and he gave me his jacket.” Steve chuckled at that, again, frustrating you more and more, each time he opened his mouth.

With an irritated frown, you shot a sharp glance at him and asked, “Is everything a fucking joke to you?”

“Do you enjoy making me upset?” You crossed your arms against your chest, “You don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself!” You snapped, not even knowing know why you uttered those words, you knew better than anyone that Steve wasn’t selfish; he never once put himself in front of his friends, but you were aiming to hurt him, and he was ready to bite back now.

“You are so fucking ridiculous, I—I can’t do this with you,” You murmured dejectedly, not being able to help it when your voice cracked; he was so embedded in your brain that you couldn’t form coherent words with the space he took up in your mind.

“You have no idea what you’re even talking about,” He whispered, shaking his head. If only you knew.

“Did you actually stop to think about how shitty it makes me feel when you give me these stupid emotional whiplashes?” You asked, and if you dared to get closer to him, you might’ve lost the purpose of the argument, your gaze drooping down to his lips every few seconds.

Steve stared at you blankly; you were unable to make anything out of his expressions, he looked at you as if you never existed to him, on a fucking whim.

Your lips tremble, a telltale sign that you would break soon.

His no response spoke volumes to you, “Of course you didn't.” You gave him a dry chuckle, filled with bitterness, and turned on your heel to walk away from him.

The slight breeze of February air hit you harder than Steve’s words.

He sighed a heavy breath when he heard you gasp at the coldness, hand reaching out to your arm before he spun you to meet his gaze again,

“Watch it, Y/N.” The words slipped past his lips forcefully, his chest puffing down with each breath he took. He was so fucking close that one move from you would change everything.

The tension was palpable; unspoken words and emotions hung in the space between the two of you.

And there it was.

There were his emotions again, filling his gaze quicker than you realized. If you weren’t this shitfaced, you could possibly do something about the ever so slightly distance between you, your foreheads almost touching. But your mind was spinning with endless possibilities. “Or what?” You teased; maybe it wasn’t the right time to do so, but you wanted to push him, make him break, the same way he did to you.

How far was he willing to take it?

His grip on your arm tightened; it wasn’t harsh, but tight enough to send shivers down your spine. And you couldn’t determine a single thing he was thinking again, eyes locked with each other without a single word being spoken.

You could sense his mind wandering off to find you a proper answer, trying to pick his words carefully, but you didn’t want that.

You wanted to know what he was thinking—what was going through his mind when he looked at you like you meant something to him, like he was ready to risk it all.

It was momentarily, but you could see it all—the sudden flint of confidence that didn’t waver enough to be convincing.

It wasn’t long until he returned to the cold demeanor he had been reserving just for you. “No, you’re not fucking worth it,” He muttered, taking a step back before he bit the inside of his cheek—hard. The metallic taste of blood flooded his senses, but he could care less; if he hadn’t done it, he would’ve poured his heart out.

He would’ve risked it all just to see those sparks in your eyes, but with five words, he had managed to kill it, slitting all the possibilities with the sharpest knife he could find.

“W–what?” Your voice cracked, and you fucking hated it. You hated being this weak in front of him, with tears ready to spill every time you had an argument, even over the smallest things.

“Just–Fuck! Look at you,” He didn’t want to say it; he didn’t want to burn this bridge with you, but he knew he had to for his own sake and for you to be happy with Eddie.

“You—you’re all over the place, always relying on others to take care of you, just one fucking night I didn’t baby you…” He shook his head. “And you act like I’m fuckin’ insane for doing that!” His voice was calm and collected, and that was what was throwing you off. How could he relay your insecurities in front of you, crush your heart to pieces, and pretend as if what he was saying was okay?

You couldn’t help it when tears flooded your vision. You tried not to let them get to you, but the alcohol in your system was far too dizzying and hormonal to stop your emotions from flowing. You didn’t know why he decided to utter those words, but it hurt.

Each of the gazes you shared and each word that transpired, deepened the wound in your insides that you didn’t even know existed, your feelings were at the surface, and you were vulnerable at his expense.

But Steve didn’t care.

“I—I can’t believe you’d say that,” You whispered, blinking the tears away when you took a step back, the hurt subsiding when it transformed into rage. “Fuck you,” You spat, your words weren’t slurred this time, but your vision was blurry again, barely taking another look at him when you started to walk away.

And he didn’t call out after you; he didn’t even flinch.

You were all alone.

You let your emotions overtake you as you started sobbing, sniffling every once in a while as you tried to comfort yourself.

Eddie could drop you home, you tried to reassure yourself, you knew there was a payphone close to The Hideout, if you could just walk a few more minutes, you could just call him—but holy fuck, did your feet hurt. You cursed yourself for not listening to Nancy when she told you to wear more comfortable shoes.

You were wobbly now, tears pouring down your cheeks, your smudged mascara distorting your view further, and it was dark out, so fucking dark that it started to scare you.

Your mind reeled more and more, and your chest felt trapped with each shallow breath you took. Eddie would’ve never uttered those words to you, your angry mind decided, Eddie wouldn’t flirt with girls—his exes—in front of you.

Eddie would never give you this sort of emotional whiplash.

And most importantly, Eddie would never leave you like this.

You felt so tired, just wanting to sleep, but you knew you couldn’t turn back now. Your feet were aching, but you’d rather they blistered than see Steve again.

You sat on the ground, relief washing over you when you got rid of your shoes, and the dirty, cold concrete ground felt so comforting that you nuzzled into the leather jacket, arms wrapped around yourself to provide more warmth as you sniffled into it.

You’re not sure if you can ever be with Steve anymore.

Sure, you could still be friends because you did have many big, stupid fights—granted, none of them were like this; this was different.

This was the first big fight you had with him since you realized your feelings for him, and it hurt.

Steve was not who you thought he was.

He was never going to love you.

He only saw you as his friend, and right now, even that was questionable.

And there you were, pathetically pining after him while he was drooling all over other girls, chasing him down and making a mess of yourself just for him to leave you like this.

You sniffled again; Eddie would never, and he actually was interested in you.

God, how you wished he could find you now, take you home, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he tried to mend what Steve broke.

You knew it was selfish, but it was the only way.

Maybe if Eddie could make you forget him completely, he could remind you that you weren’t a mess and that you were perfect.

Your vision blurred again, hot tears were stinging your eyes, but the ground was so comfortable.

Steve was right, you were a mess, you were a huge fucking mess, and you were pathetic, but you didn’t care as you hugged yourself further, head falling into your lap as you let yourself fall more and more into the deep pit of despair.

And that’s the last thing you remembered.

You didn’t remember Steve running after you as he realized how much he fucked up; you don’t remember Steve seeing you curled up into a ball, almost falling asleep.

You don’t remember Steve lifting you up and carrying you before anything bad happened to you.

You don’t remember the apologies Steve muttered into your ear on the ride home, how he checked every few seconds to make sure you were okay, his hands never leaving yours as he wanted to punch himself for even putting you in a position like this.

You don’t remember Steve whispering sweet nothings into your ear when he tucks you in, and you don’t remember him almost staying till the morning to make sure you were okay and didn’t get sick.

The last thing you remember was the fight.

You woke up the next morning with a groan, and you were sure no painkiller was going to help the pounding in your head.

You couldn’t help but cringe when you looked in the mirror, your hair was an absolute mess, the top that adorned your neck was covered with alcohol stains, your make-up was smudged, and you only had one earring.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” You sighed, taking off the dirty clothes as you put on a comfy shirt, your room was as messy as you were, bag on the floor while its contents spilled out, and… a leather jacket?

Slowly but surely, last night’s events came to you in a blur. The last thing you remembered was the fight you had with Steve.

Both of you spewed some hurtful things at one another, and that’s the clearest you could remember it.

You examined the leather jacket sprawled over the floor, and your brows knitted together, Steve didn’t even have a jacket on last night; you remembered because Robin made fun of him for not bringing a jacket in February when Steve whined about being cold.

You read the tagline; E.M.

Oh god.

Was it… Eddie? Did he drop you off when you were embarrassingly drunk?

Was Eddie the one who took care of you the whole night while Steve threw you away like a piece of paper?

You remembered the hurtful things he said to you; your mind was too jumbled up to even recall the nice things he said to you afterward.

You knew you have to talk to him, mend your friendship, but all you could think about now was Eddie, how he took care of you, and how he was there for you.

That day you called him, and he told you in detail how wasted you were and how he had to carry you home. You made up with Steve afterward too, both of you muttering apologies to each other as you promised not to let stupid things get out of hand.

And that day, Eddie took you on your first date with him.

NOW

“Buckley, you mind ringing these up for me?” You beamed, throwing her an innocent smile, your eyes wandering off to Steve’s absence next to her.

You gave her the ‘Evil Dead II’ and ‘Dirty Dancing’ VHS tapes nonchalantly, waiting to ask her about Steve.

Robin’s eyebrows shot up, “What kind of a double-feature is this supposed to be, huh?”

“A very fun one,” You said with a slight smirk, handing her a couple of bills.

You scanned the store, he was nowhere to be seen, of fucking course. “Harrington running from me again?” You almost cursed yourself for saying that out loud, but you couldn’t help it, something snarky would’ve slipped out eventually.

You saw Robin almost freeze, her mouth hanging open as her brain short-circuited to find a quick answer.

“I—It’s fine,” You mumbled. “Just tell him I would really like to talk to him. Once his weird tantrum is over?” You commented; it was snarky again, but he deserved it.

Five days had passed since the party, and Steve had been avoiding you like the plague, not returning your phone calls, and sneaking out the back each time you visited Family Video, and it was driving you crazy.

Determined to talk to him, you spent the last few days re-evaluating everything. You wanted to ask him what the fuck he meant—was everything that led to you dating Eddie a lie?

And did Steve never think to tell you this, even once the two of you broke up? His audacity was pissing you off, more than ever now that he was avoiding you.

Then small things started coming back to you in a flash, like the drunken confession you made to him last week.

But you were still clueless about The Hideout. You racked your brain away, but you couldn’t remember it for the life of you. Even the fight with Steve was so vaguely burned into the back of your brain, you simply didn’t want to remember it, or the hurtful words he uttered to you that night.

You had decided to forgive and forget, had no intention of going back to that head space, until recently, when Steve decided to blurt out that he was the one in Hideout, leaving without explaining anything further.

You tried to fish it out of Robin, but she acted clueless, and you tried everything you could do to reach out to Steve, but it was useless.

So that only left you with one thing.

Eddie.

Eddie had told you the day after The Hideout incident that it was he who took you home, detailing everything that happened that night.

You were basically breathless by the time you made it to Eddie’s trailer, knocking on the door, until it hit you.

What the fuck were you doing? Knocking on Eddie’s door when he had no fucking clue what was happening, when he had no idea you and Steve had kissed.

When he had no idea that you knew.

You shook your head in embarrassment as you turned around, about to leave, coincidentally and to your dumb luck, that’s when Eddie had decided to open the door.

He stood speechless when he saw you, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. “Y/N?” He asked, tone barely audible.

“Hi.” You muttered, accepting Eddie’s invitation as he stood aside for you to enter, and you squeezed by him with a quick ‘thank you’

“Look, I know you’re wondering why the fuck your ex showed up at your door but—”

“Oh, don’t worry.” He interrupted

“I do have an idea,” He smirked slightly, causing you to throw him a confused look, you were about to open your mouth, ask a million questions, but he didn’t let you.

“I know everything,” He muttered, and you couldn’t decide his facial expressions. “Steve told me about all of it.”

“And I already told him there was no bad blood between me and you and that it was fine that you guys kissed—”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“What?!?” You exclaimed, not expecting Steve to babble about it to Eddie when he had been avoiding you.

“Look, honey, Steve was all blabbering and shit when he came to see me, tellin’ me all this shit about how much he liked you and how sorry he was,” Eddie said with a concerned look.

“And I told him it was all fine, Christ—when did we even date, like 2 years ago?” You didn’t answer him and he sighed.

“I always knew the two of you had something for each other, I mean, why’d you think I got so jealous anytime you guys hung out together alone? He was definitely—“” He rambled for what felt like minutes, and you were quick to interrupt it, eyes blinking rapidly as you tried to process what the fuck was going on.

“Stop!” You exclaimed, “That’s… uhm– good to know, but not what I came in here for,” You muttered, eyes wandering to the ground.

He threw you a quizzed look, brows knitted up together, “I–I wanted to ask you about something,” You gulped.

“Well, spill it out, sweetheart, you’re makin’ me all nervous and shit.” He gave you a dry chuckle.

“What–what exactly happened that day?” You knew he was going to ask what the fuck you were talking about, so you cut him off before he got a chance to speak.

“At The Hideout… Two years ago.” You could see Eddie almost panic visibly, he didn’t expect it, and did it really matter now, after everything?

“Shit… why won’t you ask Steve about all this?” He scratched his head, it was all awkward, you coming here, asking him something that was two years ago, Steve telling Eddie about the kiss while refusing to acknowledge you…

It was embarrassing, really, and with each passing minute, a rage fueled inside of you. Sick of the hiding, and the lies. You just wanted the truth, and for Steve to not run at the first inconvenience.

“I would, if he didn’t avoid me like a fucking child,” You spat under your breath, causing Eddie to chuckle. He shook his head again.

“Right, so… I’m assuming since it was two years ago, you won’t be mad at me, right?” He asked, an innocent look spreading over his face, almost fearing as he saw how angry you were at Steve.

You almost rolled your eyes, these two idiots were making your blood boil. “Just want the truth, Munson, then I’ll be gone, I promise.”

“Right!” He chuckled nervously before telling you everything that happened that night.

You called Eddie right after you found his jacket, blabbering like an idiot as you thanked him a million times. While Eddie had no fuckin’ clue what had happened, he was still trying to get over his own hangover, but he wasn’t going to completely shut you down, not when he wanted you this badly, not when you were in the grasp of his hands.

As soon as you hung up, promising him a date, he called Steve, and he didn’t even have to beg him to play along; Steve was just... okay with it.

Steve knew the moment Eddie told him about his little crush that the two of you had no chance and that Steve would only be a little thought in the back of your mind, while Eddie would be the first choice, because why wouldn’t he?

Why would you choose him over Eddie?

And with all the sudden information flooding your mind, you weren’t sure how to react, how to vent all these emotions running through your veins, so you did it the only way you knew how; anger.

You checked the clock; 10.08

Steve’s shift should’ve ended long ago by now, you barely mumbled a goodbye to Eddie when you left, mind focused on one thing.

Steve.

You arrived at his door with your lips tightening and your jaw clenching, you weren’t going to give up now; you were going to talk to him. Now or never.

You knocked on the door so hard that you were sure your knuckles were bruising, and Steve was baffled when he opened the door, mouth almost agape as he looked at the sight in front of him.

“You know what you are? A fucking coward,” You mumbled, not giving him a second to process anything as you shook your head.

“You are a selfish fucking coward! Do you think you can make decisions for other people? You think you can just take their choices away and pretend like everything is fucking fine!” Steve didn’t utter a word when you let it all out, your words meshing with each other, and you could feel your blood boiling each time you spoke, but it was… weirdly relieving.

All that pent up anger was finally coming out.

“And you told Eddie?!? You fucking talked to him but didn’t have the guts to even face me! Five days, five fucking days, I followed you around, you fucking jerk!” You spat, your eyes flashed with anger as your face came closer to him, he didn’t even flinch, eyeing you curiously, those deep honey glazed eyes were warming the more he looked at you.

And Oh God, was his gaze inviting, so warm, but you couldn’t soften up… not when you still had so much to say.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is for me? No—no… Fuck that! I don’t even give a fuck if it's embarrassing, I’ve been–I’ve been living a lie and you–it’s your fault…” You mumbled the last part, chest heaving, when your fiery gaze met his, he was itching to talk, and you could tell.

“That—that’s a bit dramatic don’t you think?” He muttered, causing your eyes to narrow, “Look why don’t we just go inside and have an adult conversation? No need for these tantrums—” And that hit a nerve.

“Don’t,” You muttered, closing your eyes, the rage bubbling up to the surface again, gnawing at your skin, waiting to welcome you.

“Don’t you fucking dare to tell me to have an ‘adult conversation’ when you’ve been avoiding me like the plague!” You exclaimed angrily, face heating with anger, Steve nodded, understandingly. He didn’t mean to sound like a jerk, he just wanted to talk to you. He had been debating what to do these last five days, and shutting you out during that was obviously stupid, but that’s how he handled everything, wallowing it all until he chewed his emotions, keeping them hidden.

“What was I supposed to do?” He asked, almost defeated, and it made you want to chuckle, he was sending you over the edge.

“Are you kidding me?” It wasn’t a question; it was stupid for Steve to even attempt to open his mouth.

“You could have talked to me!” You took a deep breath; your anger wasn’t going to help, and if you didn’t talk to Steve as soon as possible, your head might have exploded.

You sighed as Steve stood aside, leading you to the living room, and your anger subsided with each step you took. The familiarity of the house was engulfing you, and you wanted to scream.

What if Steve had told you this would change nothing?

What if this was it for the two of you?

Your head was swirling, and it hurt, both physically and emotionally. It was taking a toll on you and Steve could sense it.

“What—what really happened… that day?” You asked, voice barely audible as you avoided his gaze.

Steve sighed as he took a seat next to you on the couch, hand itching to lay on your thigh, squeeze it to make you feel comfortable, just so you would look at him, but he resisted it, hand flexing as he placed it between the two of you.

“You–you remember our fight?” He mumbled, causing you to nod. “We both said some stupid shit to each other—”

“Well, you started it—” You gazed up at him, and this time he threw you a look, causing you to close your mouth as if to signal him to continue.

“And—and you left… and the second you did, I just felt this horrible fucking pit in my stomach, I could never—I could never leave you like that,” His voice was shaking, hands flexing again as he inched closer to you.

“I found you on the street, Y/N, almost passed out, and I lost my goddamn mind for leaving you alone—even for a second, I ca—I can’t fucking imagine what I would even do if anything happened to one–one fucking strand of your hair—just the thought makes me sick to my stomach—Jesus.” He muttered, face still toward you as you could trace it now, the worried lines etched onto his forehead, a frown taking upon his usual plump lips, voice cracking as you could sense it, the utter worry and desperation in his voice.

You couldn’t open your mouth, words failing you as you opted out to hold his hand instead, a small gesture, but one that made Steve’s entire stiffness disappear. One touch from you warming him up immediately.

“I took you home as fast as I could—I tucked you in, made sure you didn’t get sick, and then I left.”

“Why?” You asked, meekly.

“Why did you let me believe it was him? Why did you ignore me that night?”

“It–it doesn’t matter now,” He mumbled, and your brows furrowed again, fury still locked up inside of you.

“It fucking does!” You snarled, insides burning with anticipation and anger.

“Stop being a fucking coward,” You yelled, you didn’t want to scream at his face, but he left you with no choice. If you wanted to talk to him, you had to get some things out of him, no matter how much it angered you.

“Just tell me, Steve, full transparency, I want it all out.”

Steve’s silence caused a groan out of you, “If you don’t, I’m gonna leave… for good,” You whispered.

You were bluffing; you weren’t going to go anywhere without getting some closure, but Steve didn’t know that, and he had never seen you this riled up, so he sighed when you got up.

“I didn’t want to lose you!” He got up after you, staring at your back for a full minute until you turned around to meet him, a quizzed look overtaking your features.

“What?”

“God! I wanted to—Shit. I wanted to tell you about how I felt, but then Eddie came and he told me all about how he had feelings for you, and, uh, I just panicked— so fucking hard. I knew you would have chosen him, and I had that rejection one too many fuckin’ times, and I—I knew I couldn’t handle it from you!” He exclaimed, breath ragged as his brown orbs looked at you with such sympathy that you wanted to drop everything and kiss him, tell him that he would always be your first choice.

“I knew you would choose him and—”

“I didn’t want to be a second choice again, Y/N, I was so fucking scared—” You shook your head.

“Steve you—god, you have no fucking clue about anything,” You chuckled dryly, interrupting him.

“When you ignored me for Tammy that night, when you told me that I wasn’t ‘worth it’ that’s when I decided to contain my feelings for you, I knew you didn’t like me for anything more than friends—I always thought we had a ‘will they won’t they’ kind of relationship but that night, confirmed it for me,” You looked away, almost ashamed, face burning up.

“I felt so fucking desperate—like you wanted to push me away like I was an idiot girl who was clinging onto you, and now everything is just so confusing that I don’t even know what is going on.” Your hands ran through your hair.

“But you were and will always be my first choice,” You didn’t mean to smile, but it just appeared, anger washing away. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You muttered, and Steve’s entire demeanor changed, his body relaxing as he realized how much of an idiot he had been.

“What?” He asked, baffled, a small smile overtaking his lips before you could say another word.

“Yeah,” You murmured, taking a step closer to him,

“So… we’re both idiots, huh?” He asked, basking in the way you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes as your warm aura engulfed him.

“Hmmm… I’d say it’s more you than me,” You mumbled, scrunching your nose, as Steve huffed playfully, inching closer and closer to you. You didn’t know where this took the two of you, but your mind was so busy when he was standing this close to you.

One strand of his hair fell onto his forehead, and all you wanted to do was run your fingers through them, kiss every inch of his face, run your lips along his soft ones, feel his calloused hands on your curves, grabbing desperately, meek grunts leaving his lips, both of you breathless.

And that’s exactly what you did—without a care, you closed the distance between the two of you with an annoyed huff, fingers running through his shiny hair.

His hands were quick to land on your hips, grabbing them like he was afraid of you slipping away, once again. And it all felt so easy and familiar that you could feel your head spinning.

His lips brushed against yours softly. You didn’t want this moment to be over, wanting to cling to him forever. Everything he did made you feel foolish and insane, and you understood why being in love felt like losing your mind, again.

Steve groaned into your lips, kissing you harder, once, twice, his lips never fully letting go of you, and you didn’t know if it would ever be enough for you, utterly craving nothing but him.

Your mind was jelly at this point, everything was tangled together while the question of ‘What’s going to happen now?’ lingered in your mind. Did he still want you? Did he still want to be together? Why didn’t he just come to you after talking to Eddie?

You tried to shake them off, tried to focus on the way Steve’s hands stuck to your body, like they belonged there, and the way his lips moved along yours, like it had always been this way.

You wanted to continue, wanted so badly to not let this moment go, but the bickering voices in your head were too much, and you pulled away slowly. Steve almost groaned when he felt the absence of your lips. He blinked once, twice.

“Oh, fuck. Do that again.” He unintentionally let out, gaze filled with lust as his pupils were blown wide, and a small giggle left your lips. “You are an idiot,” You whispered, your gaze settling on him.

Was everything going to be okay?

How were you even going to manage to make this work?

And with that, your expression soured, “Steve,” You said seriously, causing him to look up at you with concern all over his face. “I don’t want to get hurt again.” You murmured, forehead touching his.

“I won’t hurt you, ever.” His gaze was intense, and it made you feel giddy, worries washing away in seconds. You don’t know how he fucking did it, but it worked.

And you trusted him like no one else.

You couldn’t help it when your lips twitched into a smile. “You promise?” You gushed.

“With all my heart, honey.” He whispered, taking a deep breath.

“You have no fuckin’ idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, dreaming about this...”

“I would never, ever do anything to hurt you.” He muttered, his hands tucking the strand of hair that was blocking him from placing messy kisses all over your face.

“I couldn’t handle losing you, not again,” He murmured before leaning in to press more kisses all over your soft lips.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

bonus scene: just for shits n giggles idk

“What movies did you get today?” He asked with a childish grin on his lips.

“If you weren’t avoiding me, you would’ve known, pretty boy.” You exclaimed dramatically, crossing your arms against your chest.

Pretty boy.

The only thing that stuck in Steve’s brain was that he was your pretty boy.

And this giddy feeling inside of him was never going to go away, he decided.

He huffed playfully before he grabbed your bag, causing you to gasp. “Let’s see…” He murmured as he tried to find the VHS tapes.

“Aha!” He exclaimed as he grabbed the two of them, turning the cover to see what movies you rented.

“Oh my god,” He murmured. “A double-feature? For us?” He couldn’t help the way his lips twitched into a smile, so warm that you wanted to bathe in the glory of making him this happy.

“Mhmm… First, Evil Dead II for me, and once Stevie gets scared, we’ll put on Dirty Dancing.” You give him a wink.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” He groaned. “You are so fucking perfect, I’m gonna lose my mind.” He placed a kiss on your forehead.

another a/n: so this is a bit messy bc i had too many ideas and this is the best i could do to fit them all in, i hope this doesn't feel that disconnected from the first!! work has been kicking my ass lately so my mind is all mushed lmao!! feel free to leave ur feedback and pls comment, like or reblog to support me ily <33

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #steddie x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things imagines #stranger things fic #steve harrington #ex!eddie munson

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angels-fantasy · 5 months

Note

Congratulations on your followers milestone! Can I ask for the prompt "first fight" with Dabi?

Scars and All

Dabi/Touya x Reader

Details/Warnings: lowkey toxic relationship, arguing, kinda angsty LMAO i'm sorry i cant help but make dabi angsty. hurt/comfort i think, angst to fluff? dabi is trying, okay? also dabi is called touya in this fic!

Word Count: 957

hello thank you sm for your ask and the congratulations :) i hope you like this, i really like dabi bc 1) hes hot lol and 2) hes such a well written character. also i'm going to start writing in all lowercase bc its what im used to and upper case drives me crazy!!

loneliness was something that consumed you constantly. it was a scary feeling sometimes, especially because of the things it could drive someone to do.

you wished you didn't feel like this, but you couldn't help it.

before getting into a relationship with touya, you knew of the lifestyle he lived and how much of his time it took up. at first you thought you could handle it, but over time you soon realized that wasn't true. hours of him being gone quickly turned into days, sometimes even weeks and it was driving you crazy. you really wanted to try and continue to sit compliantly and let him do what he wished to do, but you were at your wits end.

sometimes you wondered why you even continued to put up with him, especially when you knew deep down that he'd probably choose to continue committing villainous acts over your relationship.

but you knew the answer to that-it was because you loved him, and sometimes love can make you do crazy things.

so now here you were; sitting on the old couch in your living room. the edges of the fabric having frayed ends and burn marks here and there from the moments touya let his temper get the best of him.

you can't remember how long you've been sitting there anxiously, waiting for your boyfriend to get home, but you felt your heart beat faster when you heard the front door being unlocked.

you wiped your sweaty palms on your pants and took a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself to confront touya, who sighed as he walked through the door and his heavy boots thudding along with each step.

he walked over to you and threw himself down on the couch, placing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. moments like this made it hard to stay mad.

he placed a kiss on your temple, "hey. you miss me?"

you fiddled with your fingers as you leaned further into his chest, "of course i did. i'm glad you're home."

he tilted his head down to look at you, "then how come you don't sound happy, huh?" he asked, squeezing your shoulder as he did so.

you frowned, knowing he'd caught onto your bad mood already. he was way too perceptive sometimes.

"i am happy touya, i promise." you insisted, "it's just..."

"it's just what?"

you sat up from your position and faced him, but it was hard to look him in the eyes. "i just wanted to talk to you about something that's been bothering me."

he looked at you for a moment, expressionless, making you even more nervous until he said, "alright, what is it?"

you took a deep breath.

"you're never home touya, and i miss you." you frowned, "i worry about you and when you're gone for so long i get lonely. i miss spending time with you."

he groaned, "babe, do you not understand why i'm gone? or do i need to tell you, is that it?" he asked.

you regretted this now.

"no, i know why but it's just-"

"if you know why, then why do you fucking ask me?!" he yelled, making you shrink into yourself. you two had bickered over things before and there were even times when you needed space from each other, but touya had never yelled at you like this.

you could feel your eyes prick with tears and the lump in your throat grow, "touya don't yell at me!" you cried.

"i'm yelling at you so you get this through your god damn head!" he snapped, "i can't be here, sitting on my ass like you every fucking day. i have shit i need to do to make my plans happen!"

you gasped at his words. did he really think that's all you did?

"you know damn well i don't just stay at home on my ass, touya! i work too!" you said, tapping his chest with your finger as you pointed it at him.

"i buy the groceries! i make the food! i wash your blood stained clothes! i do everything i can, but you don't know because you're never here!" you yelled, taking a deep breath after so you could continue speaking.

you sighed heavily and spoke softly, your energy gone from yelling. "you're never here touya..." you sniffed, letting the tears run down your cheeks. you brought your hands up to your eyes to wipe them away, "i love you, so i miss you. i just wish you were home more so i don't have to spend my nights all alone."

touya was breathing heavily, but sitting silently as he processed your words. he was perceptive, sure, but he wasn't really good with emotions and dealing with people when they were upset.

feeling guilty, he wrapped his arms around your crying figure and hugged you tightly to his chest. he brought a hand up to your head and stroked it gently, shushing your cries. you stayed like that until your crying had become sniffles with occasional hiccups.

"i'm sorry," he said softly, "i'm sorry i'm always gone. i fucking suck at this, i don't know how to be here for you... but i'm going to do better now, for you, okay? i love you too. i don't say that enough."

you brought your hands away from your face and wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning your head against his beating heart and closing your eyes.

"as long as you try, touya. i know you're not perfect, and that's okay with me. i love you the way you are."

"scars and all?" he asked jokingly, making you giggle.

"scars and all."

authors note

love ya!

#@angels-fantasy #fanfiction #fanfic #anime #writers on tumblr #my hero academia #dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x you #mha dabi #touya todoroki #touya x reader #angst with a happy ending #angst #mha angst #hurt/comfort

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hintsofhoney · 2 years

Text

Radio and the Rain

Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When a bad storm forces you and Dean apart on a hunt, he realizes just how much you mean to him.

Tags: 18+, smut, making love, p in v, all that jazz... nothing too crazy

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Hello, I'm back after almost 6 months. Moving across the country (again) among other big life events (all good ones!) gave me the worst writer's block of all time, but thanks to my friends (@soaringeag1e & @emoryhemsworth), writing this fic per their suggestion (based off Radio and the Rain by Chris Young) is what finally pulled me out of it! Beta'd by my angels @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean. Alright, hope you all enjoy, and I promise I'll be back again with more things soon!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Y/N!” Dean calls out, doubtful that you can hear him over the sound of the rain coming down as he tries to ignore the panic building inside him. His hair is stuck to his forehead from the downpour, water droplets streaming down his face as he tries to shield himself from the weather. It’s no use. He’s soaked to the bone – he’s not sure he could have worn enough layers to keep him dry, not in this storm – and the darkness of the forest seems to go on forever. He could have sworn there was a town nearby – some light pollution would be really helpful right about now – but he seems to be shit out of luck. Thunder booms above him, almost deafening, and he keeps on what he hopes is the right path, his heart rate steadily increasing. He needs to find you.

“Y/N!” he yells again after another minute passes. If he’s soaked, he can’t imagine what you must be. He remembers what you’re wearing; skinny jeans, a thin green t-shirt, a black faux leather jacket, hunting boots. Normally, he doesn’t complain about your refusal to wear more layers, but right now, ‘I told you so’ is on the tip of his tongue. He would need a large amount of hands to count how many times he’s told you to prepare for anything , and that a flimsy t-shirt and jacket weren’t gonna cut it, but in your defense, this storm came out of nowhere. He had to give you that, at least.

“Dean!” he whips his head around at the faint sound of his name making its way through the rain, and yells yours out once more before making his way towards your voice. His eyes are adjusted enough to the dark to where he can make out silhouettes of fallen trees ahead of him, stepping over them with little caution as you call out to him again. He has to make sure you’re okay. He has to get to you.

“I’m here, Y/N!” he yells, “Where are you!?”

“Dean!”

He hears it, clear as day from behind him. He turns around in time to see the outline of your soaked body appearing from behind the trees.

“Y/N!” He rushes to you, taking your cold hand in his, and you can’t tell if he’s relieved or angry to see you – or a little bit of both. You should have listened to him when he told you splitting up was a bad idea, but completing the hunt had been the only thing on your mind, Dean’s lectures about safety be damned. “Jesus, you’re freezing,” he comments, like he isn’t an icicle himself. He wants to say, ‘I told you splitting up was a bad idea’, but he holds his tongue. He can lecture you later.

He grabs you firmly by the shoulders, looking you up and down. “Are you okay?”

With the rain pouring down, he sounds like he’s whispering, even though you can tell he’s only a decibel away from full-on screaming. Lightning strikes in the distance, and you’re able to get a clear view of his face for a brief moment. Water streaming down his clenched jaw, hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, worried green eyes searching yours. They land on your cheek, which you think is bleeding thanks to the branch that smacked you in the face a few minutes ago, and you roll your eyes at his over-concern.

“I’m fine, Dean. It’s just a scratch.”

“C’mon,” he replies gruffly, pulling you into his coat in an attempt to shield you from the rain. “Baby’s got a first aid kit in the back.”

Ten minutes of walking later and you can make out Baby’s silhouette parked on the road on the other side of some trees. The rain seems to have gotten even worse – if that’s even possible – and the thought of being underneath some type of roof (Baby’s was just as good as any) where you’d have an opportunity to get dry was getting your tired legs through the last bit of your trek out of the muddy woods.

Your first step onto the dirt road comes with more rain as you come out from under the umbrella of trees. Dean opens the back door for you, ushering you inside and telling you not to worry about your shoes (something that he was usually a stickler about; he liked a clean car). To your surprise, he gets in behind you, quickly closing the door before the backseat can get even more wet. He leans over the front bench, fishing his keys out of his pocket, before starting the ignition and turning on the heat. The radio comes on as Baby starts up, and he lets it play as he opens the glove box and pulls out a flashlight, before sitting back and reaching underneath the driver’s seat for the first aid kit.

“Hold this,” he orders, turning on the light and handing it to you, the brightness of the bulb causing you both to squint as your eyes adjust.

“Dean, I told you, I’m fine,” you reiterate with an exhausted sigh, watching as he opens the white box in his lap.

“Shine it on your face, I need to get a better look.”

You roll your eyes, pointing the flashlight on your cheek, allowing Dean to grab the underside of your chin as he moves your head to the side and examines the damage.

“Needs to be cleaned,” he announces, letting you go and pulling out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and gauze from the kit. You watch as he unscrews the cap and flips the bottle over, letting the cloth absorb some of the liquid before flipping it back and closing it. “This is gonna sting.”

He says that every time, and you chuckle softly in response. “Yeah, not my first time.”

He doesn’t even crack a smile. He grabs underneath your chin again, dabbing your wound with the cloth, and you’re too focused on his mood to even notice the sting. A minute passes by, and you’re sure it’s clean by now, but he seems to be on autopilot, jaw clenched and eyes both focused in on what he’s doing and glazed over at the same time.

“Dean,” you say gently, placing your free hand on top of his, stilling his movements and pulling him out of his trance. “I think it’s clean.”

Silence, except for the rain and the radio, which is quietly playing Is This Love by Whitesnake (not usually what this station plays, but it’s 2 a.m. and you figure they probably save the sappy 80s songs for this time of night).

And then, “You can’t do that.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head. “Do what?”

“Scare me like that. I didn’t – I thought –” he shakes his head, dropping his hand and placing the gauze back in the kit, along with the rubbing alcohol, before closing it and shoving it back under the seat. “Just – you can’t do that.”

“Dean, the storm came out of nowhere. We’ve split up on hunts so many –”

“And it’s never my idea!” he interrupts.

“What do you want me to say, Dean!? ‘I’m sorry that God decided to flood the earth again while we were out hunting werewolves’!? I am fine , okay? I can handle –”

He cups your face in his cold hands, careful to avoid the fresh cut on your cheek. “I don’t doubt that you can handle yourself. But I can’t lose you, do you get that?” His face is inches away from yours, and the flashlight slips out of your hands and onto the floor as your breath catches in your throat. The radio starts playing the all-too familiar beginning chords of Night Moves , and you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod. Dean tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers.

“I know,” you reply breathily. You place your hand over his again. “You won’t, De.”

The corner of his mouth lifts up into a brief half smile – one that you would have missed had you not been watching his every move. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip with a feather-light touch, and all you can hear is the radio and the rain.

“Your lips are freezing,” he comments, not-so-subtly (in true Dean fashion).

“Shame there’s no way to warm them,” you whisper back, biting back a smile.

“Hm,” he smirks, leaning in. “I can think of a way.”

You close your eyes as his lips meet yours, instantly sending warmth back into your body. Night Moves is still playing, and you ignore the irony as you kiss him back like not freezing to death depends on it. It’s not your first kiss with Dean, but it’s the first one that feels like it really means something, like you could be more than just friends who hook up occasionally. His hands move from your face to your jacket, unzipping it before he helps peel it off your body, your wet skin making everything a thousand times harder. He carelessly throws it into the front seat before his lips move to your neck and he works on getting his own top layer off. He finds your sweet spot right under your ear, one that sends warm shivers down your spine, and then his hands are back on your body, finding their way underneath your soaked shirt, trailing up your sides. His palms feel warm against your skin, and you don’t know if it’s the heat blasting through the vents or the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you’ve never been hotter.

The two of you separate for a few seconds and tug off the remainder of your clothes, everything landing in a nice pile on the front seat — muddy boots included. The cleanliness of his car is the last thing Dean is concerned about right now.

You feel a lot more comfortable naked — meaning, you’re only wet where you want to be now — and you lean back in the seat, your head resting against the door, as Dean hovers over you, taking you in. The flashlight on the ground was your only source of light with the moonlight blocked out by the storm still raging outside.

“You’re beautiful,” he states, not like an opinion, but like it’s an undeniable fact. Like if you were to look up ‘beautiful’ in the dictionary right now you’d find a picture of your face.

You smile. “Thank you.”

His finger traces your jaw bone, his thumb gently outlines the scrape on your cheek. “I don’t think it’s gonna scar,” he says. You love it when he’s like this: pure and unfiltered, saying exactly what he’s thinking when he’s thinking it.

You chuckle softly. “Good. Be real ugly if it did.”

His expression turns serious. “No it wouldn’t.” He states that like it’s a fact too, and you have no choice but to accept it.

“Okay. It would be pretty badass, I guess,” you concede.

He smiles and nods, leaning down to kiss you softly, quickly, before pulling back and whispering, “Yeah, it would.”

He trails his kisses down your jaw, neck, collarbone, and you catch the next song on the radio — Feels Like the First Time — and roll your eyes and try not to laugh because of course . You’re brought back to the present when Dean’s mouth wraps around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud as your hands instantly come to grip his wet hair.

“Fuck,” you breathe, back arching off the leather seat, and he chuckles softly before releasing you with a ‘pop’.

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes again, but they quickly close as he moves to give your right nipple some attention, gently pinching the other between his thumb and pointer finger. Your moans cause his cock to twitch, and you feel it against your inner thigh, imagining what it must look like right now.

“Please,” you beg, and you both know exactly what for. He gladly returns his lips to yours, before nestling himself comfortably (or as comfortable as one can get in the backseat of a ‘67 Chevy) between your legs, still damp and sticky from the rain. He kisses you hard as he enters you slowly, and you moan into his mouth as you adjust to his size. Nothing’s ever felt so good.

“Jesus,” he breathes, pulling away momentarily and bracing himself with one hand on the fogged up window as he bottoms out and stays there, looking down at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him, and right now, you are. “Mm, fuck .” He starts to move, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck, his hot breath and soft groans doing nothing to help stall the tightening coil in your abdomen. “‘m never letting you out of my sight again,” he whispers.

All you can do is nod; he feels so good, you never want him to stop.

“Can’t fuckin’ lose you,” he mumbles, his face coming to hover above yours as he cups your unscathed cheek with his free hand. “You hearin’ me?” He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

You nod again, a little more aggressively this time. “I know, Dean. You won’t,” you reassure him through unsteady breaths. It’s your turn to shake your head. “You won’t.”

You hadn’t noticed his thrusts speeding up, too lost in your emotions until he hits a spot that you didn’t even know you had.

“Oh, fuck ,” you hiss, arching your back. “Fuck, right there.”

He listens, picking up the pace ever so slightly, his lips on your neck again, his heavy pants in your ear. “Shit, sweetheart, you feel so good.” He’s breathing so hard it’s barely audible, but you hear it clear as day, and it’s what brings you to the edge.

“Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna —”

“Me too, me too.”

And then you’re tensing underneath him as a wave of pleasure washes over you, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you up, and he’s holding himself up on trembling forearms, desperately trying not to collapse on top of you as the exhaustion from the day finally hits you both like a tidal wave. Through heavy breathing you notice that it’s still pouring outside — probably deeming you stuck here on this no name road until it lets up — and that You Shook Me All Night Long is playing on the radio, and you can’t help but giggle softly and shake your head.

“What?” he questions, confused.

“I think both the weather and the radio are demanding that we go again.”

TAGLIST(S)

If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name below, it’s because Tumblr won’t let me tag you!

FOREVERS: @writercole // @makeadealwithdean // @slamminmine // @impala1967dwinchester // @wayward-dreamer // @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan // @deandreamernp // @kitkatd7 // @thewritersaddictions // @foxyjwls007 // @kyjey // @boeshaneboy // @besas-stuff // @babypink224221 // @stoneyggirl2 // @440mxs-wife // @sexyvixen7 // @samsgirl93 // @alwayssnivellus // @simpfoegeorge // @ajordan2020

SUPERNATURAL: @deans-baby-momma // @cookiechipdough // @roonyxx // @jassackles // @roseblue373 // @redbarn1995

DEAN WINCHESTER: @perpetualabsurdity // @lyarr24 // @solarrexplosion // @rach5ive // @akshi8278 // @pink-sparkly-witch // @emoryhemsworth // @whore4romance // @themerc-with-a-mouth

You can join my taglist(s) here!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

Text

the busted engine

lilac, chapter one

a/n: the plot of this series came to me like fucking lightning, essentially all at once with how quick it fell into place. sometimes it's like that, sometimes magic happens in your brain. I hope you all enjoy this ride as much as I am having writing it. get ready for everything, because I've got twenty chapters planned out and ready, and spoiler, they aren't all just gonna be insanely wholesome small town cuteness... we getting angsty... we getting the drama.... but most of all, we be getting slutty. strap in folks.

summary: “I, um,” your eyes briefly flickered to the bundles of firewood needly stacked in the back of the pickup, “my car broke down and my phone conveniently also decided to run out of battery, so, uh, could I perhaps borrow yours just a moment? I just need it to make one call, that’s it.”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, car trouble, meet cute

word count: 2674

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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masterlist | join my taglist

Your vision couldn’t help but linger every time it drifted over your hands gripping the steering wheel. The immense weight the sight of your bare ring finger lifted off your shoulders was so overwhelming that you found yourself fighting tears from blurring the road before you.

The sun was beginning to set as you had been driving all day long, not stopped for even a second to let the gravitas sink in of what you’d done at the crack of dawn.

The fear of Preston stirring from his slumber and finding you in the midst of sneaking out still hadn’t settled within your gut. Your paranoid brain still compelled you to check the rear-view mirror every couple of seconds just in case the sleek sportscar of your former fiancé would appear.

You had finally done what he had drilled into your mind you weren’t capable of. You’d left him for good.

Equipped with only a small backpack of your belongings, the last thing you’d done before sneaking out of the apartment had been to toss the ring he had so insistently forced upon your finger into the trash.

Ripping you out of your cloudy thoughts, your car suddenly began to cough like a mythical monster that was dying.

“Oh shit…” you felt the vehicle begin to slow as ominous smoke started to billow out from under the hood. Mindful of the bushy pine trees framing the road, you guided it to the edge just in time before it gave out.

Stepping out with an exhausted sigh, you promptly cracked the front open to take a look, though what you saw within didn’t soothe your worries as all of the fumes oozing out only made the broken engine look like that much more of a mess.

“Fucking great,” you mumbled heatedly, fiercely slamming the hood shut in an effort to relieve some of your abundant stress. Curving back around, you swung the passenger side open and rummaged for your phone, though when you located it, the only solution it flashed you was a blinking red battery icon before the screen went completely black, “seriously?”

Not knowing if you were about to scream or burst into tears, you chucked it back inside before hurling your spine against the side of the car, leaning against it as you cursed up at the grey sky.

Was this the universe showing its true bias? You’d hoped that was the one thing money couldn’t buy, but perhaps you were wrong, just like he always said you were. Perhaps it would be best if you went back to the city. His reaction towards a stunt like this couldn’t be that bad compared to what you had endured before, could it?

The sound of another vehicle cresting the thicket on the rural road caught your ears and you turned your head to see a navy-blue truck appear.

Your hand shot up to wave it down before you could even ponder the action. Fearing that it was a lost cause by the speed the driver was going at, it caught you by surprise as it suddenly came to a halt a ways in front of you.

“Are you alright, ma'am?” the driver asked as he slammed his door shut behind him. The tall man certainly looked like the type to call the area his home. Dark beard scraggly and hair in unkept waves long enough to tickle the furrow lines decorating his forehead, his wide palm traced the lines of the truck as he made his way towards you.

“I, um,” your eyes briefly flickered to the bundles of firewood needly stacked in the back of the pickup, “my car broke down and my phone conveniently also decided to run out of battery, so, uh, could I perhaps borrow yours just a moment? I just need it to make one call, that’s it.”

Eyeing your busted vehicle a moment, his low timbre then rumbled out once more, “sure,” as he reached into his pocket and fished out his telephone.

“Thank you so much,” seizing it, you swiftly clicked it to life, “you have no idea what a lifesaver you are–, oh fuck,” your vision zeroed in on the lack of bars in the uppermost corner, “of course there’s no fucking services out here,” your eyes briefly screwed shut and your jaw clenched in an effort not to scream, “it’s fine, it’s fine! I’ll just walk then!” you tried not the throw it as you handed the phone back to the helpful stranger, “I’m sorry that you had to stop for nothing, but thank you anyways.”

Swinging your door open to yank out your stuff, the stranger’s feet stayed fast, “what direction are you headed?”

“Dunbrook,” you answered as your body folded to reach your tossed telephone.

“You wanna catch a ride?” he unexpectedly offered, causing you to bump your head on the roof of the car.

“Ow–, what?” you blinked back at him through the windshield as your hand shot up to rub the top of your now sore head, “no, I couldn’t… I–, uh, I kinda recognise this area, the town is not too far from here, so I can walk, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, but it’ll properly still take you all night. Please, it’s no bother, I’m headed in that direction anyways.”

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you slowly retracted out of the vehicle, “you sure?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, attempting a faint smile in order to soften his gruff and intimidating features.

“Alright,” swinging your backpack on you slammed your busted car shut, “thank you.”

Sliding into the passenger seat, you clicked on the seatbelt and slotted your bag between your legs. Fiddling tensely with the straps for a moment, it dawned on you how your sleeves were still rolled all the way up to your elbows from when you had checked under the hood. Pulse instantly picking up and thumping in your ears, you hastily tugged them back down to cover the lavender bruises peaking out.

Had he noticed?

Hearing the door slam to your left, being too caught up in your own mess, it only caused your form to jump in the seat.

Trying to play it off as nothing, you attempted a casual, “I’m Y/n by the way,” though your voice came out much more strangled than you’d intended.

Catching your flickering eye a moment before turning the key, he likewise enlightened, “Pete.”

Your bottom lip didn’t escape the prison of your teeth the entire ride, gnawing subconsciously at it as you purposely stare out at the wild flora you passed in order to not look at the advantageous stranger.

Though after you passed the crooked sign welcoming you back to your small hometown, Pete’s gruff voice broke the silence.

“So, where can I drop you off?”

“The inn,” you turned your head to inform him, “the Lilac Inn, if you know where that is.”

“Yeah, I know it,” he nodded, sucking in a knowing breath as if he didn’t need any more information to figure you out, “so you’re a tourist? One of those nature people who come out here to hike or something?”

“Not exactly,” was all the explanation you offer as you watched the familiar scenery come into view.

Dunbrook. To call it a town was very generous indeed as the whole population could properly fit under the same roof if they really wanted to, and they often did. The rolling fields of wildlife that surrounded the village also divided and broke up the infrastructure of the old settlement, causing most of the homes and businesses to not all the clustered together as you had grown accustomed to seeing after moving to a metropolis as vast as New York.

Every familiar structure rolling by evoked memories long ago buried and forgotten. The corner where you fell learning how to ride a bike. The quaint general store where you once stole a lollipop, walked for all of 48 seconds before turning right back and apologising to the owner with tears in your eyes. But most of all, the large Victorian structure at the bottom of the tiny town by far held the fondest of memories in your heart.

The dust puffed up around the truck as you rolled down the narrow dirt road, the bushy lilac trees that flourished all over the property haven not quite yet come into bloom, yet still forewarned your destination that already peaked over the tops.

“Here it is,” Pete exhaled as the car came to a stop before the vast veranda, “the Lilac Inn.”

Eyes glued to your childhood home, you stepped out of the truck, “thank you,” slamming the door shut, you turned to add awkwardly through the rolled down window, “and also thank you for not turning out to be an axe murderer or something,” a nervous laugh swiftly bubbling out at the notion.

Glancing back at your bumbling form, he simply flashed you a tight-lipped smile and said, “you have a good trip, ma'am.”

“You too–, I mean, you have a good, uhm, rest of your life,” you fumbled as your feet slowly backed up, “it was nice meeting you, Pete.”

“Yeah, you too,” he just managed to reply before you spun your mortified flush away from his stare and scurried up the steps of the porch.

Pushing the creaky, stained glass adorn front door open, you tiptoed inside.

The lighting dim and the atmosphere nothing short of comforting, a smile finally bloomed upon your lips as you let out the breath you’d been holding for who knows how long.

Peeking around the corner into one of the sitting rooms, you only spotted one patron sitting by the small round table next to the crackling fireplace, working away at a puzzle. Either the others had gone to bed already or this fellow was the only one staying here.

“Excuse me,” you gently interrupted from the archway, “would you happen to know where the owner, Harvey, is–”

Though before you managed to get out the remainder of the sentence, a bustle from the kitchen answered your question for you, “every time I forget to whisk long enough and every time I say it’s gonna be different, but this time I mean it!”

Sharing a knowing look with the guest, you chuckle, “never mind…”

“This time I won't just stop when my arm feels like it’s gonna fall off,” even though it was clear he was talking to himself, his usual vibrato still carried, “oh no, no, you just wait and see how light and fluffy you turn out this time, cake!”

Poking your head through the ajar door, you spotted the familiar greying man grumbling into the contents of the bowl he was furiously beating with a whisk.

“Dad?”

Nearly jumping out of his skin, your father gasped, whisk jolting upright as he laid his eyes upon you, subsequently splattering some batter across the kitchen, back near the sink, “Y/n?” he exclaimed, his eyes growing to the size of saucers, “is that really you? Is my little baby girl really standing in my kitchen or is this a hallucination?”

“Hi,” your head tilted in a soft chuckle.

Staring at you as if you were just a newborn puppy, “oh, come here, munchkin and give your pops a hug!” the moustachioed man’s arms went wide and pulled you in, dropping whisk still in his hand as he blubbered into your hair, “ah, I’ve missed you so much,” squeezing your form in the magical way that only parents could, “I haven’t heard from you in, well I don’t even know how long, that’s how long and if you ask me then that’s too long,” he pulled back, cupping your cheek as he gazed at you, “you don’t write, you don’t call.”

“Not true, I do write,” you corrected him light-heartedly, “and you don’t have a cellphone.”

“Well, there’s the telephone out in reception, why would I need more?” he shrugged, lending you to then slip out of his grip, swiftly boosting your own form to hop onto one of the empty counters, “also, your last letter was 10 months ago.”

“No, it wasn’t, was it?” you gasped, thinking back.

“You can check the date, they’re still in the cookie tin up there,” he gestured to one of the top shelves before reuniting the whisk in his grip with the large bowl on the table.

Only briefly glancing up at the enamel box, you already knew that you didn’t wanna revisit them. However vague the letters were, which they always were, you were still certain that they’d have the power to send you right back there into Preston’s iron fist, even though you’d never even mentioned him once in all the years you’d been with him. They only ever really contained small talk and pleasantries, never about something so personal as to whom you were dating, but you also didn’t share at all as things took a turn for the worse, when you were in so deep that you felt like you couldn’t escape. Perhaps it was out of pride, perhaps it was to shield him from the truth, or maybe even in a way yourself, not admitting to the fiend you had welcomed into your own bed, creating some false reality as a coping mechanism.

Averting your gaze, you then uttered softly, “I’m really sorry dad,” gliding your right thumb over the jagged edge of the counter as you gripped onto it with both fists.

“Ah, it’s fine,” he waved a hand, “you’re young, out there living your life. You shouldn’t have to check in with your father every few seconds. I am aware that you’re 29 after all. Although, you know I wouldn’t be a pose to just a little bit more…” he winked, playfully bumping the side of his hip against your shin before picking up the speed of the whisk once more, “so, did I forget it’s my birthday or did you just miss your old man?” his jovial glance flickered between you and the batter.

“Can I stay here a while? I just need some place to,” lay low, “figure things out, you know?”

Whisk halting, his gaze upon you grew in concern, “of course you can, honey. Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay, I just–, uh… needed a change,” not looking him in the eye, you spoke, “I don’t know to where or what I’m gonna do next, but I do know that I don’t wanna go back,” you felt a lump of emotion swell up in your throat, “and I won’t just stay here for free, I’ll pay you rent,” you tried to appease the stubborn sensation of being a nuance to everyone, even to your own kin, “though I don’t really have any money right now, so I’d have to get a job first, but that’s fine, I’ll figure something out–”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” your father cut you off, “you can stay here as long as you want, it never stopped being your home even when you moved away. Still keep your room exactly the same, just in case,” he offered you a warm smile, his silver moustache stretching wider, “how about you just give me a hand around here, huh?”

“Alright,” you exhaled, “deal.”

His grin turning more mischievous, he then noted slyly, “you know I’ve always dreamed of you taking over this place one day, running the family business…”

Rolling your eyes, you chuckled, “not this again…”

“Just think about, you could–”

“Dad, I’m not gonna take over the inn! Running a place like this isn’t what it used to be back when your parents opened it up. You might have always been dead set on taking over it, but I haven’t.”

“I know, I know,” he gracefully backed down again as he always did, “you want adventure, isn’t that what you called it when you went away for college?”

Adventure… it was that kind of philosophy that had sent an innocent young girl into the arms of a devil…

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle series #frank castle angst #lumberjack au #frank castle hurt/comfort

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the-writer-ofthe-fandoms · 9 months

Text

Silent Cosmos (Edward Cullen) (Ch. 3)

Pairing: Edward Cullen x GN! Mute!Reader

Words: 2.8k+

Warning(s): Two gross dudes, sexual verbal harassment (not towards reader), swearing,

A/N: omg chapter 3 is finally here. I apologize for the wait. I thought my semester this time around would be forgiving but NOPE. I had so much to do and read, I could hardly write for fun or draw either. I hadn't realized how long it had been since I last posted. I want to try a new method when writing series. I tried with my kpop writing blog, and its where I write a few chapters at a time then periodically post them. Helps keep the flow and motivation going, but that may have been a one off there.

Series Masterlist

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"O star of strength! I see thee stand And smile upon my pain; Thou beckonest with thy mailèd hand, And I am strong again... The Star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed. -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "The Light of Stars"

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Edward hasn't been in school for the past few days.

You admittedly felt a little lonely without his presence, though Emmett and Alice have made it their mission to become your new best friends. Jasper tried but he still kept his distance from you, which you didn't mind. Rosalie helped when no other Cullen was around, although she kept a lot of conversations at a minimum, which you also didn't mind.

Alice had told you Edward had gotten a bad cold, so he is staying home. You had offered to bring him your notes the first time so he could copy them down, but Alice told you their father has him basically on lock down until he is deemed healthy. So, after you've done your homework, you've been making copies of your notes to give him when he comes back.

It's the start of a new day and once again, Edward wasn't there. You were at your locker with 15 minutes to spare. You placed the spare folder with Edward's notes on the shelf while your mind went back to that moment you two shared at the welcoming party for your uncle. You felt happy telling him all the stars and constellation you could see, and even happier when he seemed thoroughly interested in your rambles. However, you feel an inkling of guilt when you remember he gave you his jacket. Maybe he got sick from that?

"Dude, I got this weird spot on my dick."

Well, there goes your musings of guilt. You glance to your left and see two guys near you, just chilling against the lockers. You've never met them, though you do remember sharing a class or two with them separately.

"Are you really airing your business out when someone is standing right their?" The shorter one, with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes gestures to you.

"Relax, Mark. That's the deaf student." The taller one with deep brown eyes and brown hair says with a laugh. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and choose to just focus on the inside of your locker. Maybe you should get more decorations- "Anyways, I have this weird spot on my dick. It almost looks like I have a weird mole there. I'm hoping it's just a new mole and Cindy didn't give me something."

Gross.

"I'd get that shit checked out then. You don't want it to turn into something worse if it is an STD." Mark says with a sigh. "I told you not to sleep with her, Tony. She made my balls itch like crazy. They still fucking itch."

"I think its just a weird mole. You wanna look?" He cackles while his friend fake gags. They both push off the lockers and walk away to who knows where.

You let out a deep sigh and close your locker. At least the ignorance of other allows you to hear some gossip.

"What's with the sigh, Tiny?" Emmett calls out as he and Rosalie approach you. He has very quickly taken to the nickname Tiny for you. You suppose anyone shorter than him would be considered tiny in his eyes. Rosalie simply opened her locker as you and Emmett conversed.

"Oh, just overheard two people talking about something that should have been a private conversation." You respond with a slight shrug.

"Gah, Forks High is full of a bunch of weirdos, huh?" He grins and raises his brows a few times, crossing his arms while leaning on the locker next to you. You silently chuckle and nod, though you wondered if there was an underlying joke there.

"No Edward today?"

"Nope. Carlisle still hasn't cleared him." He sighs with a sympathetic smile. "Between you and me, Tiny, Edward is still shitting his brains out." He signed that last portion to you.

You gave him a scandalized look and playfully slapped his arm with a small chuckle. You were surprised to feel just how hard his muscles were.

"What was that for?" He gripped where you slapped and pretended to be hurt. "It was a private conversation, no one else here except Rosalie knows sign."

You roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile. You could always count on Emmett to get you to smile.

"C'mon, Rose and I will walk you to first period, like always." He grins and gestures you to follow him. Rose simply came along since she and Em were in the class next to yours. You nod and follow, happy to have good company.

---

It was a passing period and it was just you and Rose at your lockers. You grabbed a new pen and pencil since the last two you had broke and ran out of ink. Rosalie was fluffing up her already perfect, blond hair in the mirror of her locker. She and you didn't converse much, but you still liked her presence. Like the rest of the Cullens, she didn't tiptoe around you or treated you differently. She acknowledged your presence and would answer you if you had questions.

You were about finished in your locker when you heard two familiar voices keep up their gross conversations behind you.

"Dude, Rosalie has the hottest ass." Tony practically jeers, his voice intentionally loud. You glance to the blond next to you and she still keeps fixing her hair, though you can see her brows are a little more furrowed and her lips are more in the shape of a frown.

"Her tits, man, her tits are where it's at." Replies Mark and when you shift just enough to see him in the corner of your eyes, you see him make an obscene gesture.

You hear the slight creek of metal and when you look to Rose, you see her grip is so tight on her locker door that her fingers made indents which made your eyes widen for a moment. She closes her locker and you can see by her side profile she is pissed, and rightfully so.

So, you do what you think would make her laugh at the expense of those two guys.

You tap her arm to get her attention and she looks at you with a glare. You don't let it faze you. If those two are going to be gross about your friend, you'll just air out their business that they so willingly aired out by you this morning.

"You know those two jackasses?" You intentionally look to them as you sign and look back at her. "Well the brown haired one has a spot on his penis that he isn't sure if it's a mole or an STD. And his buddy likely doesn't wash right since he's had prolonged itchy balls."

Rosalie looks almost scandalized until her eyes widen for a moment as she looks at the two dudes and then back to you. She covers her mouth as she laughs when she realizes what you're trying to do.

You were about to sign some more when the two dumbasses approach.

"I know you were talking shit. What the fuck did you sign?" Tony glared, pointing an accusatory finger at you. He gets in your face and you swear you hear Rosalie growl.

You swallow thickly and decide to open your mouth. Your aunt always said you got your stubbornness from your mom.

"I said..." You try not to wince at the pain in your throat, your voice sounding hoarse. "You had a weird spot on your dick and your friend... has itchy balls." They looked at you with wide, horrified looks. "Don't talk about someone's body if you don't want yours talked about either."

"You little shit." Mark hisses and Rose steps closer to your side, an arm just barely in front of yours.

"What's going on here?" Emmetts voice grows louder as he approaches, his usual, carefree smile no longer on his face. He looked scarier than you've ever seen him. Mark and Tony looked at each other before slinking off.

Once they were gone you let out a dry, painful cough. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand and quickly grab your water and drink, soothing your throat. You could taste a tiny bit of iron in the back of your throat as you drank.

Rosalie calls your name softly. "Are you okay?"

You nod in response and take another sip of water. You didn't catch the look they gave each other or Rose gesturing for Emmett to speak.

"What happened, Tiny?" He asks in a quiet tone. You close the cap of your bottle and place it back in your bag. Your throat still ached but you knew the pain from using your larynx will linger.

You start to sign to him everything that occurred, from what you overheard in the morning to him approaching. You can see a flash of anger on his face but he goes back to that small smile. Once you explained your words to Rose and why you said them, a huge grin breaks out on his face.

"I didn't know you had it in you, Tiny." He laughs and pats your shoulder a little too firmly.

"Come, I'll walk you to class." Rosalie said with a soft tone. You nod and wave goodbye to Emmett. You both start heading down the hallway, the blond next to you tense.

When you got to your class a pale hand stopped you. You look to Rose with a questioning look while her gold eyes avoid yours.

"I just wanted to say thank you for earlier." Rosalie says, the tense look she had fades into a small smile, her eyes meeting yours. You see some vulnerability in her usually guarded gaze. She gives your shoulder a squeeze before dropping her hand. "You didn't have to do that. I'm... admittedly used to that."

"No need to thank me, Rosalie." You smile back at her.

"I do, because not many would step up like that." She softly sighs and her smile grows a bit. You felt her words had more meaning to them, but you decided to not linger on them for now. "I know I've been slightly avoiding you but I have a hard time trusting hu- new people. But, after today, I think I want to open up a bit and be friends."

"I'd like that too." You beam. "Alice has been begging me to do a shopping trip, maybe the three of us can plan a trip soon."

"I'd... I'd like that." She almost looks like she is relieved and less guarded.

"Is your hand okay?"

"What?"

"Well, I saw you grip your locker and you dented it."

"Oh. Yeah, it's fine. I work on cars and my grip is strong. It's nothing." She holds out her hands and you saw just flawless skin. "Well, I will see you soon. Class is starting."

"Talk to you later." You wave and go to class. You sit down at your usual spot and start preparing. You sigh, irritated at the way those two spoke about Rose so loudly. But you also felt happy you and Rose were close now. Her bending the locker was suspicious... there were many things off with the Cullens that you've picked up, however, you don't linger on it. They have their quirks much like you have your own.

---

Edward lounged on the couch reading, back from his trip up to the Denali clan to clear his head. After witnessing that nightmare from you, he needed a moment alone to sort his thoughts. He wasn't sure what he felt afterwards but once he took some time to sort out his thoughts, he came back to Forks. None of the others knew what happened. He didn't tell them those details of your life, as none of them were privy to it. He wasn't either but that bridge has been crossed thanks to his ability and curiosity of the galaxy protecting your mind.

He felt guilt initially when he realized he deeply invaded your privacy. Then, despair and immense sadness followed when he recalls back to your nightmare, your past. Edward had seen many horrors in his long life, he even committed some when he'd hunt those men. However when he witnessed what you went through, he couldn't help feel a spark of protectiveness. You were nice. He found you a joy to be around despite it not being long since you transferred. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to you.

Edward couldn't help but smile when he thought back to you and him outside the fire station. It was a peaceful moment. He couldn't help but linger on the sight of you in his jacket, pointing out the stars and constellations. It was silent other than your internal thoughts. And when he got to witness your galaxy so at peace? He also felt a sense of tranquility he longs for.

Edward quickly put those thoughts away and resumed his attention his book when he heard his adoptive siblings come in. Alice and Jasper pass without saying to him, which he was slightly thankful for. However, Emmett and Rosalie lingered by him.

"How can I help you both?" Edward sighs, snapping the book closed as he looks at both of them.

Rose crosses her arms. "You need to come back tomorrow."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Yeah, Tiny happened." Emmett grinned and gestured to Rosalie. The blond sighed and let the memory replay of you standing up for her so Edward can see what happened today. He furrows his brows, setting his book down. He stands up from the couch and looks between the two.

"My guess is those two will probably retaliate against our friend one way or another." Rosalie says softly. Edward chooses not to point out how she said 'our friend.' "You spend the most time with them, they'll need you to stick around them the most."

Edward nods slowly. He recognizes Mark and Tony, and he knows they each have a class with him and you. He's heard the thoughts that spew from them both like garbage and he knows they aren't above getting back at someone.

"I'll come back tomorrow." He confirms. He wanted one more day to himself, but tomorrow is good as ever to face you again. He knows how you lost your voice and how you ended up living with your uncle and aunt now, but you don't know he knows. And he'll have to keep that in mind.

Although, Edward couldn't help but smile at the sound of your voice in Rosalie's memory. It was rough and hoarse, and it caused you pain, pain he doesn't want you feeling again... but it was nice hearing that voice that matches to the one in your head... when that space of yours is dropped.

---

You make your way to your locker first thing in the morning. You get yourself situated, grabbing the things you need for your classes before lunch. You set aside the folder where you kept your copies of notes for Edward down on the small shelf. You huff softly, throat still feeling sore from using your voice.

A familiar voice calling your name has you spinning around quickly, a smile instantly growing on your face. Edward approaches you with a small smile, looking the same as he did the last time you saw him.

"Glad to see you're feeling better." You grin, your mind flashing back to what Emmett signed to you in regards to Edward's health. You catch your friend's eyebrow twitch, a flash of annoyance on his face that he quickly recovered.

A Cullen quirk, you muse to yourself.

"Yeah. I'm doing a lot better now." He replies softly, standing a little closer to you than usual.

"I have something for you." You see his eyebrow quirk as you turn back to your locker. You pull out the black folder and hand him it. "Notes for the classes we share."

Edward stares down at the folder before chuckling. He looks up at you and gives you brilliant smile, one that makes your heart flutter for just a moment. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"Of course."

Suddenly, you feel hand on your back. Edward was standing much closer to you with an expression akin to a scowl as he stares off a little. He looks to you and smiles softly, though you can still see the tension on his face.

"We should get to the classroom. I'll probably have questions about what I missed." He says in a low voice. You nod, a little confused by his demeanor. You finish up with your locker and let him guide through the hallway, his cold hand still resting on the middle of your back.

You weren't aware of Tony's and Mark's presences until you both were walking by them to your first period classroom. You paid them no mind, keeping your focus ahead of you. Doing this, however, has you missing the deep and threatening glare from Edward towards the both of them.

As you both walked through the hallway, Edward felt that his non-existent blood boiling at the degrading, violent, and nasty thoughts those two were thinking. He knew they both weren't the best that Forks has to offer, their thoughts sometimes louder than others.

That protective urge he felt after witnessing your nightmare? It's working overtime now and he isn't completely sure why.

What Edward does know that he won't let them try anything towards you.

------

Taglist: @buckybarnes-1917, @trawberry-fire , @dreamy-caramel, @urgirlfriendspage @azazel-nyx @stinkii-boii @vanessalovesonedirection @sunnyisntthere @theatrenerd101601 @awesomebooklover17 @esposadomd @whichwitchisthebitch @bofadeezs @gons-dad-is-gon-e @kathsuhki @aoi-targaryen @srh-006 @onlyheretosimp

#edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x you #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen imagines #edward cullen imagine #twilight #twilight saga #twilight edward #twilight edward cullen #twilight x reader #twilight x you #twilight x y/n #twilight imagines #twilight imagine #silent cosmos

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sunny-chan · 8 months

Text

crazy hazbin hotel theory but like i was thinking about what is it that gets you into heaven after the last episode. Nobody knows what it is but it was said that Adam was the first person to enter heaven. And what does Adam have that make him unique? Hes a big egoist who only talks about how great he is.

Even though we know he is a terrible person, his behaviour is similar to many demons we see in hazbin hotel and helluva boss, Adam really believes he deserves to go to heaven. So what if what one needs to do to get in heaven is believe that they’re actually good that they deserve redemption and to be in Heaven. That would also explain why no demon has ever risen to heaven cause from the moment they went to hell they lost all hope of redemption, cause they figured hey I don’t deserve to go to heaven after all.

Also think about blitz for a second. Hes a total shit most of the time but we know the reason he strives for that, he hates himself and only finds it logical that everyone else hates him too. And we can assume thats how most of the demons feel.

for most demons the thought of pure love is unattainable, cause in their mind they don’t deserve it. Millie and Moxie have the best relationship out there, they both are proud of their relationship and each other something that is always commented on by other people especially blitz cause to him its not possible to be loved like that by someone (this is one of the main reason he doesn’t believe stolas actually cares about him)

Charlie always talks about how she’s stressed cause she can’t find out why her plan isn’t working. And it would make sense that the key is that the demons themselves can’t believe that they deserve redemption. Anyway thats just a theory

#helluva boss #hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #theory #charlie morningstar #angel dust #alastor #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel husk #blitzo #stolas #millie helluva boss #moxxie

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years

Note

may i request for somewhat of a aemond x wife!reader crackfic? i just cant get the thought of aemond's wife suddenly going "if you really love me, catch me" and she just randomly jumps off a window or cliff or smth, knowing fairly well how sturdy she is and that she'll survive with a few broken bones max. but aemond doesn't know that and so he prince-charming-style-on-a-dragon saves the stupid lump that is the love of his life and goes "i do not appreciate these tests to measure my loyalty and love for you. first the question of whether or not i would love you as a worm. and now this stunt? what's next? make me choose between you or something very absurd?" "now that's an idea."

The Test Of Love

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: There is a saying that people do crazy things for those they love... Aemond has come to terms with the fact you're simply crazy.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: fem!reader, wife!reader, mom!reader, exasperated!aemond, 'dear gods its genetic' -aemond, crackfic, fluff, typos, etc."

A/N: THIS IS SO SPECIAL BECAUSE THIS IS MY FIRST AEMOND REQ HIHIHHHIHIHI HI NONNIE TYSM FOR THIS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT NONNIE MERRY CHRISTMAS ps i didnt name the child cos it seemed like too much responsibility nvm i felt bad for keeping him nameless also i used a translator for the high valyrian dont come for me if its wrong i like to imagine this gif is the moment aemond realized his wife is crazy and he's like 'aw shit' HAHAHHA Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda

"Kepa, kepa!" a small voice calls, alerting Aemond, who had been in his study, going through some papers.

Aemond turns to the little boy, eye roving over his wide violet eyes and short, stubby legs, deciding in that moment, he was not injured or harmed.

"What is it, my love?" Aemond asks in High Valyrian. He straightens from his seat, lips curving into a soft smile as his son makes it to his side.

Aemond brings him to his lap. He brushes Aurion's hair back with one hand while the other is secured around the side of his soft belly.

"Mother is-"

The sound of his father humming cuts Aurion off. Aemond's brow quirks as he looks at his child.

Aurion sighs, placing his tiny hand on his tiny face, correcting himself, "muña."

"Kessa, muña," Aemond nods in confirmation, continuing in High Valyrian, "very good, my boy. What about mother? Is she calling for me?"

"Muña ivestretan nyke..." the boy starts as he racks his head, thinking of the next words to say.

Aemond hums, translating his Aurion's words, word per word, "mother told you..."

"Naejot ivestragon ao..."

"To tell you," Aemond trails off.

"...bona ziry's jumping hen se jimy."

"..."

Aurion turns to his father, watching his kepa's eye widen at the information he relayed. Aurion blows air out of his lips, making buzzing sounds as he shifts in his father's lap.

Aemond is tense as his Aurion places his clammy hands on his father's cheeks.

"Say that again, boy," Aemond knits his brows.

"Muña--"

"In common tongue."

Aurion stands on his father's lap, stroking his kepa's long hair as he mumbled, "she said she was going to jump out the window, papa."

Aemond grabs his son's hand, making the child draw his eyes upon his father's worried one.

Aurion is indifferent as he continues, "she told me you were going to catch her before she f-"

A loud fit of laughs rip through the room when Aemond grabs Aurion and practically teleports outside, exactly where their bedroom window would be.

He didn't need to see to know you were there, as there were a bunch of worried servants outside, looking up with worried faced, making him worry ever more.

Aemond does not miss how one of them says, 'thank the gods the prince is here.'

Aemond drops his giggling son as he cranes his neck up.

I break into a wide smile and look over my shoulder when I hear my name being barked out, "hello, my love!"

Aemond's breath is extremely taxed as he walks beneath the ledge I was standing on, "GET INSIDE RIGHT NOW!"

I roll my eyes, not even turning to the open window as I opted to hammer on the stone wall before me. It was a bit difficult, seeing as my breast was pressed against the surface, as I did not have much room to walk on. Still, I pressed on so I could hang the twig figure my son made in a place it would get the attention it deserved, "I'm busy."

Aemond clenches his jaw, arms going out to the side in fear, ready to catch, if ever his extremely poor in decision making wife falls.

Aemond calls my name out again, more worried, less threatening.

I release a sigh and hang my child's creation on the nail, "Aurion, what did you tell your father? He's worried sick."

"That you were going to jump," the princeling plainly, making the servants around him exclaim in worry and horror.

I furrow my brows and snap my head Aurion, "that's not what-"

Alas, I do not get to finish, as my quick movements make my feet slip. I helplessly descend from the height. I grip the hammer tightly, not wanting it to crash on my husband's head.

With a huff and a heave, I find myself in Aemond's arms, Aemond, who is incredibly relieved and livid all at once.

"Hello, my lo-"

"You told him you were going to jump?!" Aemond quips, eye narrowing.

I raise a brow, throwing my arm around his shoulders, discarding the hammer off to the side with a loud thud, "I did not. I told him that if I fell, you would catch me."

Aemond's nostrils flair as he turns to look at his son, barking out his name impatiently, "what is the meaning of this?!"

Aurion shrugs, "I wanted to see mama jump."

Aemond eye twitches.

I scold him for this, but Aurion is all but affected by it. I turn to my husband and snort, kissing him quickly on the lips before jumping out of his arm. Aemond is frozen in his spot.

I beckon my son over. When he does, I point a finger at him, "what did I tell you about distorting the truth?"

Aurion sucks in his lips as he rolls back and forth on his heels. He avoids the question by saying, "you jumped anyway!"

"She did not jump, she fell," Aemond quips, stern expression moving from Aurion to me.

I knit my brows at him, "I chose to fall, because I knew you would catch me."

Aemond feels his false eye rattle in skull as he words darkly, "chose?"

"Oh, please," I roll my eyes, "I used to jump down from trees much higher than this as a child, Aemond."

"Mmm, right!" Aemond says tightly, "and you landed on a field of grass, not cold, hard, concrete!"

I shake my head at his words, "what does it matter? All this proves is that I was right."

"Right with madness?!" Aemond raises a hand, "right with what?!"

"That you would save me no matter what." I raise my chin when I say this.

Aemond is practically vibrating in anger, his stomach wound tightly with worry. It all evaporates when a hand goes to his face.

I smile at Aemond, rubbing the scar on his cheek.

He sighs, utterly defeated. He opts to lean into the affectionate touch.

I utter causally, "this reminds me of the time I jumped off Vhagar."

"YOU JUMPED OFF VHAGAR," Aurion exclaims with excitement and wonder

Aemond grabs my wrist as he pulls away, "I still have nightmares of it."

"Oh, please, you told me it was okay for me to do it."

"I DIDN'T ACTUALLY THINK YOU'D DO IT!"

I huff, pulling my hand away, "that was your mistake."

"I WANT TO JUMP OFF VHAGAR!" Aurion calls, jumping up and down.

"NO!" Aemond barks, pointing a finger between the two of us, "no one will ever jump off anything ever again!"

Aemond grunts where I laugh when Aurion dashes over to him. The boy crashes against his leg; the man reels back slightly. I snort when my husband looks away, knowing he was not strong enough to behold the puppy dog eyes that was surely being thrown at him.

"Pleaaaassseeee, kepa!" Aurion whines, "I'll promise I'll study High Valyrian even harder!"

Aemond scoffs, then peers down, eye narrowed, "say that in High Valyrian then."

Aurion scrunches his face in thought. He begins to turn a shade of scarlet. He slams his head onto his papa's thigh, "no fair..."

Aemond huffs, crouching down, gathering the boy into his arms, "I will not hear of this nonsense again, child."

"Kepaaaaaaa!"

"Enough," Aemond dismisses, turning to me. He reaches his hand out and I gladly take it. He sighs as he pulls me close, placing a kiss on my temple. When I lean into him, he shuts his eye and mutters, "kepa will not know what to do if anything ever happens to you and muña."

Our son makes a sound in protest, "but you will catch me if I fall, just like mama!"

I smile at the sentiment, reaching out to my child's cheek.

Aemond turns to his son, leaning his forehead onto his, "do me a favor and not follow into your mama's footsteps."

I snort, pulling away from Aemond.

"But mama's fun!" the boy pouts, "you're not."

Aemond presses his lips into a line.

I break into a fit of giggles, stopping in my tracks to bend over in amusement. Aemond is snorts and swiftly grabs me, cutting my laughter off. I am, without warning, manhandled over his shoulder. I shriek when my stomach is folds over him. I grab onto his back without much else left to do.

Hearing my sons giggles makes chuckles find their way out of my lips again.

"Spank your muña's bottom," Aemond commands. My son does not hesitate.

"Aemond!"

"You have been naughty," he quips, beginning to walk off, "and deserve every bit of punishment I will inflict on you tonight."

I am silenced by his words.

"Papa no!" Aurion exclaims, "mama's a good girl."

I bite my lips at the defense of my child.

"Mmm," Aemond hums, "we'll see about that."

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