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berrystiles · 2 years

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Take Me Back To The Night We Met

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word Count: 10.2k words

Content Warning: Major Character Death, explicit language, a lot of angst, underage drinking, mentions of depression and grief.

Summary: Set after season 4. In that final battle Steve sacrifices himself so everyone else can live, leaving you behind to reflect on various points in your relationship and how the hell you’re supposed to live in a world without him.

Author’s Note: Inspired by the song “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron. No use of y/n. This is my first time ever doing a Steve fic, or even a reader pov fic so please be kind. I am also so so so sorry for this. I cried writing it, but I just couldn’t get the idea of my head. My friend is the one who convinced me to post this. I didn’t really have anyone else look over this so any issues are my own and I guess just let me know if you see anything that needs fixing!

Ao3 Link - in case you would prefer to read it there.

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

After what will later be called the end. When the ash from the Upside Down stops falling. When the sky is no longer coated in red. When the nightmare sound of lightning and the ground shaking doesn’t wake you up. You stand at the end and somehow you are still alive. However, it doesn’t feel like you won anything. This isn't the victory you envisioned when you sat in Hopper's cabin and talked strategy with your friends, most of whom still haven't even finished their first year of high school. You weren't stupid, you didn't walk into this final battle naively thinking that all of you would walk away. You've been too deep into this Upside Down shit, lost too many good people, to think that no one in that room was next up on the list of funerals you'd be attending. It's just, that this outcome, the one that you're standing in now was never really an outcome you allowed yourself to think about. You'd picture your death sooner than face this.

Your friends, the ones that made it at least, stand around you. Each of them wrapped up in their own state of being, each of them coming to terms with what should be the last piece of this seemingly endless battle. Nancy and Mike are tucked away in their corner of this field you all have managed to meet up in. They look more like the siblings they are supposed to be than you have ever seen them. If you were fully present, the sight might startle you due to how infrequently you see them in a moment like this, wrapped up in one another. Lucas stands to your left, and you can hear him taking in heaving breaths. If you were to turn your head and make some sort of movement to check on him, you'd see Max standing beside him with her hand in his.

Moving is too much though, especially when directly in front of you are Robin and Dustin. They cling together, dirt and ash covering their faces, their hair a mess. They stand in what should be a hug of celebration, one that should remind you of another time, a better outcome. This hug isn’t for comfort, there's nothing to celebrate. Instead, it’s muffling the sound of sobs, ones that shake Dustin's whole body and remind you so much more of Eddie's loss months ago, but somehow worse. You should be moving toward Robin and Dustin. You should be joining in the wailing, after all the loss they mourn is yours too. But all you feel is that same cold numbness that you have been carrying around for the last hour of this battle. You couldn’t stop, you didn't have a moment to even- you can't think that.

Can't focus on what you couldn't do because if you do... If for just a moment you allow yourself to be back in that space and at that time, you are not sure if you'll be able to leave.

There is a passing thought, so brief, that maybe you got this wrong. Maybe you didn’t survive this at all. It is a big maybe but somehow, it’s easier to think that maybe you are just a ghost in these moments. That you paid your debt back to the universe and it’s giving you a minute to see who survived. A parting gift before you join him and everyone else, but mostly him.

It is as that thought enters and settles that you think you can breathe again. The air that hasn't been able to get into your lungs feels possible. Which should make you laugh because if you are dead then you don't really need that breath, do you?

Still, it’s easier to believe you didn’t survive. That your friends are crying over your loss too. It's an outcome you could make peace with. Because if it's true then you won’t have to live in a world without him. Having to imagine that this next part is where you are supposed to figure out how to survive? Impossible. Not without him.

But then someone’s hand is on your shoulder. The weight of it is heavy and you feel that breath leave you because you can feel it, the pressure of the hand. Another person whispers your name, and that picture you briefly created loses shape. Any hope you had that you’d be joining Steve Harrington in whatever existed on the other side is shattered.

You feel your resolve break, and someone is screaming. The sound is guttural. It's deafening in a way that makes you think of El and makes you see windows shattering with the power behind it. You want to cry for this person because they lost someone like you. There's a deep sympathy that runs through you for them. It's only as someone grabs you, your legs giving out because of that shattered concept that you did live through this again. It is as you fall that you register there isn't anyone else screaming, it's just you.

Take me back to the night we met

October 1984, Halloween

You knew Steve Harrington long before you knew what a Demogorgon was or that the Upside Down existed. The perk, or downfall depending on who you were, of living in a small town like Hawkins is that you've been in school with Steve since the beginning. He may be a year older than you, but your paths still crossed, even in the elementary school playground. However, despite that you and Steve weren't friends, you were nothing but passing ships. Despite knowing him, you didn't register him and had no real reason or desire to if you were honest. The night you finally did take note of Steve Harrington as more than just a self-proclaimed king of your high school was Halloween 1984.

As usual, Tina is throwing a party. Another day when her parents are long gone from Hawkins and her need for popularity demands that teenagers should enter her home and destroy it. It's not the first party Tina's thrown this year and it sure as hell will not be the last. You may not be on Tina's level of popularity, but you do okay socially. Your friends have demanded to make an appearance at the party. The idea of passing up free beer, and the chance to catch the attention of whoever their recent crush is too much to pass up on.

As usual, they drag you along, and it is fine. Because while you may not have the same motivation as them to attend you do love Halloween. You are too old to trick or treat, so at least this is a chance to dress up and have fun. After all, these are the best years of your life, as your mom continues to remind you. So, you took the time and went as Jo from The Facts of Life. Which honestly was one of your favorite shows, only to have your friends all ditch you by the end of the night. Which also meant, you were stuck walking home... alone.

As annoyed as you are, you are also the one that after a cup or two of whatever that punch was, was pushing your friends toward the boys they had been eyeing all night. Let it be known, you were a good friend you thought to yourself as you started walking towards the door. Plus, you're also a little thankful for some of the alcohol still coursing through you because, at the very least, it's giving you the warmth you need to push outside and make the trek home.

As you’re breathing in the fresh air, finally free from the cigarette smoke inside, you hear the signs of someone else taking in deep breaths. Curiosity will always be your downfall, at least that's what your grandma tells you, but so what you like to know what's going on.

You look to your left and you are surprised to see Steve Harrington. Not that you thought he wouldn’t be here tonight or something. After all, you had seen him earlier though he seemed much happier then. What is surprising was that Steve was swiping at his face like he was trying to wipe tears away. But that would be impossible because you had a bet going with Robin Buckley from band that Steve didn’t have feelings. This new development meant you were going to be ten bucks short the next day at school if you decided to share what you saw.

Maybe it’s the alcohol or the surprise, or maybe you are just a good person. Whatever it is has you stepping towards him. “Are you okay?”

He’s obviously not, but you are kind enough to give him an out, and maybe you’re hoping he’ll take it. You didn't sign up to be the one comforting King Steve, but there's just something so depressing about a boy caught crying to himself outside of a party. Not that you had much experience with the picture before you, but this was feeling depressing. Steve must be surprised by your question too because your voice makes him jump, and he's coughing like he wasn't just crying.

"Me? No yeah, I'm fine, totally fine." You find yourself raising a brow and the alcohol has you feeling bold. "That sounds like a load of bullshit," Steve frowns at you, his mouth opens, and you are pretty sure he's about to start arguing with you. But you press on because you haven't let a man talk over you before and you're not starting tonight.

"However, despite it sounding like bullshit I will refrain from further questioning." You pause a moment before smiling in what is probably coming off as less charming and more chaotic, "You're welcome!"

You don't hesitate after that, you have done your due diligence, and you are free to go in your opinion. You are hoping down the front steps of Tina's house when Steve calls after you, and you're surprised he knows your name. So surprised that you miss the last step and tumble to the ground.

"Shit!" Steve yells out and you stare at the sky, the stars look nice tonight you think as you hear Steve approaching. "Are you okay?" The original question of this whole exchange is now turned on you, and you can't help but chuckle because this is so stupid.

You, partially tipsy and laying in Tina's yard, and Steve fresh from crying asking if you're okay as he hovers over you. "I'm cool," you assure him as you go to sit up. "Isn't the first time I've fallen and knowing my luck it won't be the last." You're thankful for your costume which has layers that took the brunt of it all, and the grass in Tina's yard that softened the rest of your fall.

You dust yourself off and it's in your peripheral that you see Steve is still hovering. You heave a sigh, and it probably comes off like you're exasperated at his mere presence, but for once that's not how you mean it. "Steve, really I'm okay stop looking at me like you just tried to mortally maim me or something." It's enough to get him laughing now, and you try to hide your smile because you can't be so easily charmed by Steve Harrington, you won't allow yourself.

Except then he's asking you if you're driving home, and you're not going to lie to him. So, you tell him about your plans to walk since your ride took off about an hour ago. Steve scoffs at the idea of you walking home and mutters what sounds like a remark about your clumsiness making the act of walking home impossible. Then he's walking away, and calling back to you, again using your name which you're still confused by, and telling you he's going to take you home. You think maybe the fall gave you whiplash or something because this all feels just too much. However, the alcohol is wearing off and you're cold and a little achy from your fall. So, with no fight and without trying to pretend you don't need his help you're climbing into his car.

The car ride is quiet at first, just small questions from Steve so you can direct him where to go. The heat is on, and you hold your hands in front of the vents. Steve takes a right at your direction, and it's silent again but not for long. "Um, can I ask a question?" You stop yourself from being cheeky and responding that he did just ask a question. "Sure," makes its way out of you instead and later you'll be proud of yourself for sounding so calm as you said it.

"Do you think if someone says something to you when they're drunk, they mean it?" You look over at him, his hands clinch the steering wheel, and he actively avoids looking over at you. Tomorrow the pieces of this puzzle will slot together, and you'll recognize this question as a driving force behind what had upset him earlier. For now, though you don't catch the connecting pieces. Instead, you hum and think to yourself, really rolling over the question before providing your answer.

"You probably won't like this answer, but I have to say I don't have a lot of experience with that situation." You pause, collecting all the scattered thoughts, "But I think that maybe they do?" You wish you sounded surer, but really, you're just not. "I guess it depends on the person, but at its core alcohol lowers inhibitions that's why people do stupid shit. Maybe it lowers the walls enough for people to be honest, even if they don't mean to be so... well I guess mean about it."

You spare another glance his way. You catch Steve nodding along to your words, something in them must be what he was looking for, or maybe he was just afraid of accepting them. But all he says is, "Thanks." It's the last thing he says as he pulls into your driveway, and you're again confused because you never said which house was yours. Your brows scrunch together, as you climb out of his car. You go to shut the door, but another pause, and you dip your head back into the warm car. "Steve," he finally looks at you, a surprised look taking over, "whatever was said, maybe just ask the person about it before you get too stuck in that head of yours." You smile, and he manages to match the look, his eyes are soft as he stares at you. "Thanks for the ride, Harrington." You close the door before he can reply and skip to your door.

When the night was full of terrors

Junkyard, November 1984

You don't talk to Steve Harrington again after Halloween, and maybe it's for the best because the whole experience just felt unreal to you. Hawkins is still Hawkins though and you see Steve sure enough, and you don't take offense when he doesn't acknowledge you. The rumor mill at the school tells many versions of Steve and Nancy's fight at Tina's party. You keep quiet about the parts of the puzzle that you walked into as you were leaving. It's not your story to tell, and honestly, it's Steve and Nancy's business when it comes to what happens next.

So, you move on with your life like the whole car ride home thing never happened. You keep your ten dollars, and never tell Robin about how Steve Harrington is capable of human emotion. It's your secret now, and you'd rather keep your money. Steve Harrington and you will only ever have that moment on Halloween, or so you think. Instead, the world has other plans for the pair of you.

Later you'll look back on this night as one of the dumbest decisions you have ever made, but in the moment, it felt like a good option. Your bike, the literal only means of transportation you have, has decided enough is enough and it's putting up a permanent strike and the bike chain it needs to function is breaking. You're pissed and frustrated because this means you either need to pay for a new bike, pay for a stupid part that will be way overpriced, or you're stuck walking everywhere.

You choose option number four, which is walking to the junkyard and just finding a piece you can salvage. You're positive there will be some old bike that you can take a part from, no one will miss it after all. It'll save you some money and will be a quick solution to your problem. In theory, it’s a great plan. The issue is that you can't let go of this idea which leads you to the junkyard right as the sun is setting. It's going to be a chilly night, and the fog is already rolling in making it hard to see. Which isn't great because the junkyard on its own is already a creepy place to be, but tonight it's weirder and it smells like gas. You wander around, muttering to yourself about finding a bike quickly and potentially running home.

You're moving close to the bus because some bikes seem to be stacked up near it when you hear a growl from somewhere in the woods. Indiana is not supposed to have deadly creatures lurking in the woods you remind yourself, but still, you turn around. The damn fog has only gotten thicker though, and you can't see shit. Someone grabs your arm and yanks you back, you go to scream but their other hand clamps over your mouth. "It's okay, you're safe," the voice tells you but that's what all kidnappers say you think, so you lick the hand covering your mouth, which is enough for them to drop it.

You don't plan to die without a fight, so you're quick to turn around and punch your assailant, however, your fist stops midair because your supposed kidnapper is none other than Steve Harrington. He wipes his hand on his jeans a disgusted look on his face, "Steve?" You look around and take note that you're in a bus, a bus that has three pre-teens also inside of it. "Is this some weird kidnapping thing, because I'm not okay with this." Steve looks up at you quickly, "What? No, what the fuck?"

Once you are assured that the kids are there of their own free will and this isn't some wild ploy to sell you on the black market or kill you, you start to settle down. You take a seat next to a kid who introduces himself as Dustin and immediately wants to know how you know Steve. "Feels like the wrong question to be asking, dude." Steve sighs and it sounds like this line of questioning is one he's been dealing with all day.

It's an opening though, and you explain your presence in the junkyard, and while they are all hesitant, they do tell you why they are all huddled inside of the bus. You don't get it, something about other worlds and monsters and people with powers. It all goes over your head, and you're pretty sure this is some elaborate prank, and you don't really have the patience for it all. You're about to yell, about to stomp right out of that bus, when the kid they called Lucas yells out that there's something outside. Steve and the other two kids are at the window peering out before you can even respond, and the curiosity kicks back in and sweeps out all the anger you had building up.

You slide in next to Steve and peer out into the night. Everything changes after that, because suddenly the monsters are very very real and very much trying to eat you. And Steve Fucking Harrington, just waltzes on out into the night like he's fucking invincible. It's all so ridiculous, but you're in it now and even when you have the chance to walk away you just can't. When you think about doing it you think of Steve and the way that bat twirled around. You think of these stupid kids you don't even know, and you just can't walk away. You say as much and start to head off in the direction of these things they all plan to chase.

The night is a blur after that, finding Nancy and Jonathan. Getting taken to the Byers and learning that the police chief is aware of this all too. Meeting the one with powers, who is also a kid, and was thought to be dead. You couldn't make it up if you tried, and you're not sure you want to. Once everyone is split up, Steve and you are left with the kids. You try to be helpful, but this just doesn't feel like enough.

When the kids get the idea to go into the tunnels you find yourself siding with them, but Steve is so stupidly adamant that no one is leaving the house. He looks like such a mom at the moment, and more of this picture of who you thought Steve was shatters. There's no more arguing though because Billy Hargrove is suddenly showing up and it's an all-out brawl. You're thankful your dad taught you how to fight. It comes in handy tonight because while Steve might have been doing well in the beginning, he's slowly lost his leg in this whole thing.

You'll be damned if you just let Hargrove kill Steve, not when you're just starting to finally like the guy. So, you do what your dad taught you and you land a punch of your own, just enough to distract him. Enough to lead him away from Steve. So, what if there's also some satisfaction in making the hit? Hargrove has been a dick since he showed up and you don't feel sorry for hitting him. You do however start to regret those actions once Hargrove makes it clear that he doesn't care that you're a girl, he'll gladly turn you black and blue if you're in his way. Billy starts to make his way towards you, when suddenly Max is plunging a syringe into his neck, and any momentum he had just takes him down to the ground even harder.

You'd love to say you kept up with Steve's mothering ways while he was passed out, but you were all too happy to pile into the car with the kids. The issue is you don't know how to drive Billy's car, it's a stick and you only know automatic at this point, which left Max as the only option. Her driving leaves little room for comfort. There are no other words to describe it except for wild and terrifying, and yet, it led you closer to Steve which led you directly to your happiest points it just took some time to get there.

Because after that night in November your life changes, but then it also doesn't. You're let into this whole other world, all the dirty secrets that Hawkins has been hiding over the last year are now known to you. Despite everything you saw and did, you still have to show up to school on Monday and pretend like nothing has changed.

You spend your days smiling with friends, keeping this huge secret from them, and then your nights are spent lying awake and being a little haunted by those monsters in the tunnels. You close your eyes and instead of running around you and Steve, they rip you apart. You always wake, gasping for air, and spend the rest of the night staring at your ceiling. You don't know who to talk to, because honestly, you're not friends with Nancy or Jonathan, and they weren't there when it all happened anyway.

Most of the people that were there are still children, pre-teens sure, but still not responsible for being your outlet. The only option left is Steve, but there's this overwhelming weight that settles in your stomach when you think of approaching him. Because things with Steve are weird after that night. You have memories and imprints of him holding on to you, you helped him clean and bandage up his face, and the last time you really slept was with your head on his shoulder as you all waited for everyone to return to the Byers' house that night. When it was all said and done, once he was back at his car, he gave you a ride home, smiled at you, told you goodnight, and then he was gone.

You spent that weekend wondering if when Monday rolled around Steve Harrington would even acknowledge you. Or maybe just like Halloween, this was just a brief moment that the two of you shared that you will never talk about again.

When Monday did come, he didn't ignore you, but he didn't approach you either. He smiles at you from across the hall, raises his hand, and gives a little wave. Your friends spend the rest of the day asking you about the small moment, and all you can do is shrug because you're not sure how to label it.

So no, you don't approach Steve about your nightmares. Steve and you are small waves in the hallway, passing smiles, and deep secrets that neither of you even mentions. You wonder sometimes, as you stare at your ceiling if he's stuck awake and thinking about this weird cycle the two of you seem stuck in.

The cycle keeps going, until the Snowball dance, where somehow you got roped into borrowing your parents' car and taking Max to the dance. It's there as you're saying goodbye and throwing up two thumbs up that you see Steve sending Dustin off through the doors. Maybe it's the distance or the fact that you're both alone again, but you gather your courage and do something different. You call his name, you both smile, and you ask if he's hungry.

From that night on, Steve and you are more than passing glances in a hall. The two of you are weekly dinners at a diner on the edge of town, you are night drives and late phone calls, you are movie nights, and the additional babysitter to the pre-teens. It's a new cycle, one that your other friends don't get, and you don't know how to explain, but it's a cycle you love being stuck in.

I had all and then most of you

Summer 1985

Time moves on from winter to spring, and when summer finds you it's easy to think that last fall was the last time you have to worry about being anything other than seventeen. Somehow through it all, in a move that no one saw coming, Steve Harrington worms his way into your life and somehow becomes your best friend. It turns out that when he isn't pretending to be something he's not, when he's not worried about carrying the crown that was placed on him by his peers, Steve Harrington is all too easy to be friends with.

In the months following the Snowball Dance, the two of you spend an enormous amount of time together. You do end up confiding in him about your nightmares, and he shares about his. It's the two of you, and sometimes it’s also just the dynamic duo of being the babysitters of all the pre-teens, that are suddenly just teens. You have inside jokes, and the teasing nature of your conversation becomes more fond than annoyed.

So yeah, when summer rolls in and Steve is forced to find a job after he graduates, you're right beside him for moral support. He lands a spot at Scoops, and you're a couple of stores down working at Camelot Music. You spend the summer riding back and forth together when your schedules line up. Breaks are spent skipping into Scoops and watching as Steve continuously strikes out with what seems like the total female teen population in Hawkins. It helps that your friend from band, Robin, is also working there so you both get to tease Steve together. On days off the two of you are still spending time together most of it trying to escape the heat by swimming in his pool or taking small drives out of town and trying to see something new.

And it's fine, really. You have nothing to complain about.

Except... for a tiny little thing. It's the middle of summer, and you're about 90% sure you're in love with Steve Harrington. The same Steve Harrington who is your best friend, the same best friend who definitely does not feel the same way you do, so... that is kind of a problem.

It's just difficult. Because in the same way that it was so easy to be friends with him, it is even easier to love Steve Harrington. You're not sure if anyone has ever told him that before, given what you know you would wager no one has. And as much as you want to tell him, as much as you want him to stop chasing after all these girls who can't even see him, you are not willing to lose him. Because that's the other thing that you are almost positive of. If you tell him how you feel there is no way to come back from that moment.

So, you sit in the back room with Robin, the window open so you can see Steve in the front. You watch him flirt with girl after girl. Watch Steve smile and joke and laugh and pretend like your whole stomach isn't churning with jealousy. You sit in his passenger seat, windows rolled down and radio on, and try not to stare at the way he smiles at you when you sing along. You make great efforts not to just sigh in what you’re sure would sound like love when you watch him mother hen these teens that have somehow become both of yours. Again, it's all fine you repeat to yourself as you watch the gang of teens push their way past Steve as he sneaks them into the back hallway so they can get into a movie. You feel like maybe if you repeat it's fine enough eventually it will be.

When Dustin returns and shares the radio interception with you and Steve, things start to take a drastic turn away from fine. Apparently, it is too much to think you can just be seventeen when you live in Hawkins. The only difference between now and last fall is that you're dealing with Russians instead of monsters, and you get pulled in right at the beginning, instead of just stumbling into it all. At first, it's fun, you come in on your breaks, and when you're done for the day, you help where you can. You get a good laugh out of both Dustin and Steve mistaking the pig Latin for Russian. It's easy in those beginning moments to feel like the whole plot all of you are working on uncovering is so far away from Hawkins. You feel safe.

You feel safe at least until you're passing a quarter to a frantic Steve, and you learn that the Russian plot is a lot closer to home than you thought.

Your guard starts to go up after that moment, but you're not backing out now. That night when Steve drives you home, after dropping off Dustin he pauses in your driveway and tells you that you don't have to help. You would take offense to it if it wasn't for the way his eyes were all soft as he looked at you. Maybe there would have been a biting comment, but he's picked up your hand, fingers are intertwined together and you're more stuck on how well his hand feels in your own to start a fight.

You take a deep breath, swallow down your feelings, and give what is probably a shaky smile, "You're stuck with me, Harrington. I won't scare away that easily. What are a couple of Russians compared to weird deadly monsters?" Your question gets the exact response you wanted, a quick and cheeky grin that is all Steve and means trouble you've learned. "That's true," his voice is low despite it just being you two in his car. His eyes glance at your hands, still together, and he gives yours a squeeze. "Don't tell Henderson, but if I had to uncover a secret Russian plot you would be my first choice, Bee."

It's not the first time you've heard him use the little nickname he has for you, but just like the first time it causes your stomach to do a full turn and you feel like you might just choke on your feelings right there in the passenger seat of his car. You've been good about keeping your eyes on him, but you have to look away, and you bite your lip to just give yourself a second. A soft huff of laughter does escape in the end though, and you squeeze his hand back. "Your secret is safe with me.”

You think that if you were anywhere else but this tiny car it would probably be hard for him to hear you. There's another pause, a silence that sits heavy on you, and the air feels tense like it can sometimes get for you both. It's in these small and rare moments that you think about the what-if of it all. What if he did like you? But then, Steve clears his throat and his hand escapes yours. "I'll see you tomorrow then?" Your smile feels tight, but you've practiced it so much that it comes out like it's easy, "Tomorrow, definitely. Night, Harrington." The use of his last name is for you, it puts some distance between the affection that sometimes escapes when you use his first name. You're out of the car and to your door before he can say anything else and… it's fine.

When you see him the next day it’s just like it always is. Like his car wasn’t full of just something right on the edge just the night before. And just like always, you burst into Scoops, lucky to have a day off and pretend like you always do. That your feelings are those of only the most platonic nature. It’s helpful that the same day Robin, and somewhat you, manage to figure out what all the little sentences you’ve translated mean. All the different spots in the mall are connected, and it leads you to the next step in the process which is gaining intel. The four of you manage to sneak onto a roof and watch over a very shady exchange with some men who should not be holding weapons to just drop off products. When you all duck down, as you’re tucked away on the end by Dustin. You look over to make sure everyone is okay; you watch as Steve and Robin’s hands unclasp. You try to shake off the sick feeling that bubbles up, and the four of you take off before someone comes up to investigate what all the noise is about.

The next day brings a full shift over at Camelot that you cannot get out of. It’s busy so even during your breaks you don’t have the time to go over to Scoops. Which is fine because you just need a second before you go over there. Just some space to sort out the crazed scenarios your brain created all night long. Pictures of Steve and Robin together, take up all the free space in your mind. You are all too aware of how ridiculous it is, but you just can’t let the idea go. It’s only after your shift is over that you wander over to Scoops, only to find that somehow Sinclair’s sister has been dragged into this operation. Dustin comments on how it’s about time you showed up, and Steve smacks him on the head and tells him to stop being a little shit.

Robin slides over and whispers that she’s glad you’re here, “I don’t think I could spend another minute alone with the two of them.” Some of your thoughts start to drift away, you internally remind yourself again that you’re being silly. “I wouldn’t miss being here for anything,” you remark, a smile firm on your face and it feels right like you aren’t lying. Later, you’ll want to smack yourself because the whole sentence is a set of shitty last words if you’ve ever heard them. You’ll wonder if you doomed everyone by the statement.

Getting stuck in the elevator was one terrible thing, and in the moment of it all, you have a hard time imagining it gets worse. Of course, it does get worse because this is Hawkins and apparently you and your friends are now stuck saving the world on a regular basis. You hate that Steve, Robin, and yourself have been caught but there is a comfort in knowing that at least Dustin and Erica are safe. You don’t understand the questions the Russians are asking, and why they don’t believe that you work at a record store. Not knowing where Robin or Steve are being kept and what’s happening to them, is the worst of it though. You feel like you’re at the end of your rope. You’re tired and scared, but you try and stay strong. You spew words like venom the longer the questioning goes on until finally you’re thrown into a room with Robin. Steve, who looks even worse than he did last year after his fight with Billy eventually joins too.

Any resolve to keep your shit together goes out the window as you call to Steve to wake up. When you hear him groan relief floods over your body like a bucket of water being poured over you. It’s the easiest you’ve been able to breathe since the elevator doors wouldn’t open. The three of you try to plan an escape, but the limited mobility and lack of coordination make your escape complicated. You feel like a third wheel as you lay on the ground next to your friends. It’s not the time or place for your insecurities, but Robin’s speech has them coming out. You’re quiet as she talks, quiet even more as Steve’s additional silence hangs over all three of you.

You can’t stop them from injecting you when the guards return to the room. A part of you wishes it was easy to break out of this situation like it is in all the action movies that you’ve seen. Eventually, though a sense of ease settles into your bones and you’re laughing with Steve and Robin, taunting guards, and forgetting all about the additional insecurities you had just moments before they injected you all. There’s a piece of your brain that recognizes this is what the guards want, but it just all feels so- insignificant.

Your limbs are heavy as Dustin and Erica try to hurdle the three of you out of captivity. You bounce around in the back of that car, hitting the sides as you turn corners in a way that you know will leave you with bruises tomorrow. Steve is pressed against you too though, and somehow that makes the blows even softer. The drugged-up version of you finds it freeing to not be so restricted by your anxious thoughts. You lean into Steve and his touches as all of you move through the theater. You rest your head on his shoulder as you try to understand what this movie is about. It’s not the way the ceiling of Starcourt shines and moves that makes you sick in the end. For you, it feels more like all the cells of your body are just overwhelmed and short-circuiting from all these emotions that swell inside of you.

Confessions slip out from all of you in those bathroom stalls. It feels like a moment, one that chains the three of you together in a way that you can never escape from. Unlike the confines the Russians had placed on you, this imaginary chain isn’t one you want to let go of. These are your people, and you love them. It doesn’t matter that Steve can’t love you the way you love him, it doesn’t matter who Robin loves. These are your people and as you all sit next to one another on the floor of the bathroom, laughing together, it feels like you will never have to worry about losing one another. Future you will think back on this moment and wish harder than you ever have that you could just transport yourself back there. If the DeLorean did exist you would gladly take it back to that moment, and you never would have let yourself leave it.

The night never stops being a nightmare, the terror of seeing the Mindflayer in person will keep you up for months after Starcourt. You will pour over everything you could have done to try and change the outcome of the incident. You will spend spare moments reaching out to Max only for her to push you and everyone else further and further away the longer time goes on. You will fret and worry over the lasting trauma all of this will take on each one of you as you get older.

Eventually though, like all things with the Upside Down do, the feelings will lessen. The nightmares will get farther and farther away from you. And in a turn of events even better than you could have hoped for Steve and you will move from just being friends to something that is so much more than your mind could have ever created. You’ll get to a place where you’re able to tell yourself that all of you are going to be okay eventually. That all of this is finally over, and sure you have lost a lot and there are still people to pull back from the edge, but all of you might end up being okay.

Some and now none of you

What instead happens is that a pattern of you being wrong about the Upside Down continues. Everything gets worse and this time you don’t even have half the team you’re used to fighting with. Instead, those of you left behind in Hawkins must scrape together and try to defeat an even bigger piece of the Upside Down puzzle that is Vecna. It goes even worse than it has in the past. You lose another friend, and you all come out with physical and mental scars that don’t feel like they will heal this time. Even worse, is that this time there is no reprieve to try and heal or move on. While parts of the team do come back, you’re all scrambling to try and figure out how to move directly into the next phase of the battle.

Your timeline in what you all hope is the last phase of this is shorter and yet longer than any you’ve worked with before. Waking hours are spent at Hopper’s cabin, each of you doing what you can to get more insight into what you’re dealing with. Hawkins continues to meld with the Upside Down in a way that feels too similar to that first fall you became involved in all of this. The only thing holding you together during it all is Steve, and a part of you knows that you’re the only thing holding him together too. While your days are spent at Hopper’s, your nights belong to Steve. The two of you cling together and sometimes it feels like if you could make it out of all of this the domestic bliss you create at night could be your future.

Midnights are spent curled into one another. Faces flush and warm with love, lips swollen from deep kisses, bodies aching in a way that shows more of how you two try to become one and less about the physical ways the outside world has harmed you in the past. Here in the cocoon of your shared bed, you two whisper out future plans. You talk about escaping after this, leaving Hawkins, and finding a new place to call home. You dream of tiny apartments decorated with secondhand furniture, a space in the future where Steve and you get those six little nuggets, he talked about so long ago in that stolen RV. Kids that look like Steve, that’s your hope, but Steve is so quick to share how he hopes they look exactly like you. Tucked in the small spaces of the night, blocked off from the rest of the world, the two of you allow yourself to sink into this future. Others might warn that doing this would be torture because nothing is guaranteed. But these moments are the only thing keeping you together, and Steve himself even shares how this is sometimes the only hope he has that all of you can make it through this. So, other people be damned, you will keep planning a future with Steve because that’s the only future you want to be a part of.

When the final battle plans are complete, and you’re all geared up again and everyone knows what their role in this is, that’s when things shift. You don’t place weight on how the night before could be the last one you share with Steve. The two of you seek comfort from one another like it might be the last night on Earth, but you don’t talk about the what-ifs that could come from tomorrow.

The last ounce of peace you have isn’t even that peaceful. Your body shakes with anxious energy and Steve can feel your heart racing as he tightens the vest you wear to hold your weapons. “You don’t have to come,” he tells you and it sparks the memory of so long ago that moment in his car. You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to go either, but you both know what his response will be to that. Your smile is soft, “You’re stuck with me, remember that Harrington.” You get just the reaction you wanted, just like you did on that summer night so long ago. Steve takes your hand and kisses your knuckles softly. Neither of you is the same person you were in his BMW all that time ago, but that’s okay you think.

“If I remember correctly, you don’t scare that easily?” His voice is thick, and you think if sound could have a taste his words would be sweet and sticky like honey. “Good to know all those hits to the head haven’t affected your memory too badly,” you tease. Steve doesn’t even take a moment to laugh like he normally would, instead the soft look he gives you turns serious in a way that you’ve come to recognize. “There is no memory where you are involved that I could ever forget, Bee. Doesn’t matter how many hits to the head I take, you’re too unforgettable.”

In another life, the two of you would be able to just be two not-so-teens anymore in love. You like to think that there isn’t a world out there where Steve and you don’t find one another somehow. In this universe, though both of you carry too much, and not for the first time you find yourself silently wishing there was a way you both could run from this. That’s not who you are and it’s not who Steve is. You pull Steve close and kiss him for what could be the last time, “Don’t do anything stupid out there, we have a future to get back to.” Steve makes no promises, but he kisses you back just as fiercely, the kiss only breaking as Hopper calls everyone to come together to set the plan into place.

At first, the plan seems to be working, and all of you are fighting harder than you ever have. There’s a moment where you think to yourself that you all could do this. Allowing the thought to take root though is a curse because everything falls apart after it. What advantage you had is quickly taken away and the battle starts to feel more like you’re all doomed. Those who survived and were there will later tell you all the little things that happened next. Mostly because you make them tell you because it doesn’t matter how hard you try the next bit is a blur. One moment you’re there and fighting, and watching as Steve takes down another creature, and the next you’re hovering over pushing compression after compression into his chest like if you do it enough you can bring him back from the dead.

Steve dies in the only way you imagine the universe would ever let him leave so young, saving you and everyone else. Because of course Steve sacrificed himself, as he always tends to do because no matter how much you loved him it would never make him feel like he wasn’t the most expendable person.

You feel bitter and angry at Steve for being so careless with his life. You want to rage at the world, and every single person who contributed to this existence you must live in. You think if Dr. Brenner were still alive Hopper might have to figure out how to get you out of murder charges because you don’t think you could stop yourself. Worst of all, you hate yourself because, in all the futures you ever allowed yourself to imagine, you never thought you’d have to figure out how to be without Steve.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

The aftermath is that the rest of Hawkins gets to move on. They figure out a way to rebuild and pave over the deep cracks left behind. They put up a statue in the middle of town, and have a plaque dedicated to “everyone who lost their lives in the tragedy”.

The Harringtons learn about the death of their son over the phone because they refuse to come back to town. You hate them and wish they were the ones who were dead and not Steve. It makes you feel sick to hold on to so much anger, but you just don’t know what to do with it all. You feel like you’re constantly on the edge of some cliff just waiting for the wind to knock you over.

It's you and the ones that survived that end up holding his funeral. His parents don’t even want to hear about it. The only thing that their absence allows for is for you to sneak back into his home long after he’s gone and seek comfort in the room that became both of yours in that last week. Everything there smells like him and when you’re there you can pretend like he’s still here with you.

Time even in that false reality is limited, and you don’t care what the Harringtons will do. You’re not even sure if they would notice, so you buy totes and pack up his clothes and his belongings. You let Dustin and the kids come in and take a part of him so they can remember him. Robin says she doesn’t want anything and that she’s just here for moral support. But then you find his hat from Scoops. The only piece of his uniform that survived. You pretend you don’t notice her pocketing the object, and neither of you talks about it.

You barely manage to graduate. You think you get a pass only because of the tragedy the town has seen. Your parents want to move, the town still feels cursed in their eyes and it would be an easy way out, but you just can’t. You’re eighteen at this point and they can’t force you to follow them, so they just say goodbye and tell you to call if you need anything. You find an apartment in town and move your stuff and Steve’s into it. No one says anything at first, but a month later Nancy feels emboldened to ask if you think this is okay. You hate how your only response is, “No, I don’t think it’s okay that I have to be mourning the loss of my very young boyfriend thanks for checking in, Nance.” No one says anything again after that.

What you learn during this time is that grief is fucked. Depression and trauma in a world where you can’t talk about it is also shit. You force yourself into therapy but you can’t be honest and so it doesn’t feel like it’s helping. You quit that after a few weeks.

Hawkins feels haunted. You see Steve everywhere you go. At the diner where you spent all those late-night dinners together. In every movie that The Hawk advertises, in the halls of the school when you’re still there, you see him in the streets and the people. Nowhere feels safe, and you can’t stay in your apartment forever. All you want to do is leave this stupid town and never return. But then you think of the kids and your friends who survived and the thought of leaving them behind feels like you’d be letting Steve down. It doesn’t matter that you both talked about leaving, it still feels like you’d be disappointing him. So, you keep living in this town that makes you want to die and as the months continue to go by you start to question if this is even living.

And then I can tell myself what the hell to do

When the one-year anniversary comes around you still feel like you’re stuck in the same spot Steve left you in. It doesn’t feel like you’re living. You get up and go to work, plaster on a smile, and pretend like things are fine. You carve out time to be with your friends, who may still be a little haunted but have been able to move on in ways you can’t.

It’s Dustin who shows up at your apartment the day of, some excuse on his tongue about needing a ride somewhere and you’re his only hope. You’re not sure if Dustin drew the short end of the stick, or if it was a strategic move because you can’t say no to him. There’s also the very real possibility that Dustin could have volunteered because he’s the only other person besides Robin who knew Steve the way that you did. It turns out Dustin was just there to lead you to some intervention in the Hopper-Byer household.

Your friends are gathered up, even Hopper and Joyce are there with sympathetic eyes that whisper out apologies. Dustin is the first to speak, his words hold so many emotions but are blunt and to the point, “You need to leave Hawkins.” There is no room for debate as he explains that Steve wouldn’t want you to be stuck here. “Anytime Steve would give me a ride somewhere we’d always drift to talking about you. I think Steve didn’t know how to not talk about you after he met you,” Dustin has to pause and clear his throat. “Steve would talk about how one day both of you would get out of this town. He’d tell me that the world was too big, and you were too special to just stay here forever.”

Nancy reminds you about that conversation in the RV that feels more like a fever dream than a reality. About Steve’s desire for six nuggets, which just reminds you of late-night conversations about children you’re never going to have. Nancy also tells you about a moment in the woods that you didn’t know even happened. How Steve thanked her and told her about how he was able to change to be someone who deserved to be with you. “He loved you,” her words are so soft you barely hear them. “He would want you to be out there enjoying the world. He would hate that you were stuck here, stuck in a grief that you’re never going to shake if you continue to stay here.”

Hopper and Joyce are next, and it seems that they worked on what they wanted to say together. While there are parts of it that sound like Hopper, this speech feels 100% Joyce led. Hopper and Joyce talk about moving on and how you can’t do that if you’re stuck in the same place that took the person from you. Joyce shares about how moving to California was necessary for her to be able to move on. Hopper gets more emotional than you’ve seen him as he talks about his battle with grief. “I don’t want you to fall into the same shit I turned to just because you’re still stuck here, kid.” He’s moved to stand in front of you at some point and he hugs you, his final words are whispered just for you, “It wasn’t your fault, you don’t have to keep punishing yourself.”

Robin asks if you remember being in that bathroom at Starcourt and reminds you of the question she had asked Steve. Once you acknowledge that you do remember that she tells you that she’s been keeping a secret from you for a long time. “In my defense, he asked me not to tell you, and then you guys got together, and I didn’t think I would ever need to tell you. I thought maybe it would be some weird story I edited together and told you at your wedding.” In true Robin fashion, her words are quick and rushed together, but you’ve had years of experience following whatever Robin was talking about. “I know we both thought he meant me, but after everything, while you were being looked at by some EMT he told me that he was talking about you.” You feel confused, and Robin presses on, “Steve thought I should know since you know it led to me sharing my secret. He didn’t think you felt the same, he didn’t want to risk your friendship, so he didn’t tell you. He loved you, so much, and now you know that he loved you for longer than you even knew.”

Everyone left takes a turn, going through with their observations about your relationship with Steve. How Steve changed when he was with you, how you brought something to his life that no one else had. “You made him feel like he was easy to love,” it’s Max who tells you that. There’s something about the way she’s looking at you, the way she directly knows how Steve probably felt like he was impossible to love. The trauma of relationships with shitty parents and how it scars someone too universal for her not to pick up on how much your relationship meant to Steve.

It's the last piece that crumbles any resolve you had. This mask that you’ve been wearing for the last year, the shell you built around yourself to stay safe is falling apart. You feel broken in a way that feels like when you lost him, but also feels new because the truth is Steve changed you too. He’s left a mark on your soul that you will never be able to erase. Even with him gone you still feel like this string is attached between the two of you. You’ve spent the last year wondering if you pulled hard enough on that string that he would come back to you.

You’ve spent a year dreaming up with ifs. What if you could go back and tell yourself to not even go to that junkyard. Would that change things, would Steve still be here? It makes you feel so immensely guilty because it should have been you. It’s this weight you didn’t know you were carrying and once you say it you can’t stop. Over and over the words tumble out of you there in the living room of the Hopper-Byer house. “It should have been me,” you feel hollow as you manage to make the words. Someone scoops you up into their arms, “He wouldn’t have wanted it to be you.” They tell you over and over again, and you don’t believe it, but you want to.

Somewhere in the weeks after the intervention the feeling of not being able to leave starts to fade. It’s slow at first, like when the ground starts to thaw for the first time when the sun shines after a hard winter. It’s enough.

And it’s as you hug everyone goodbye and promise to call that you think maybe you can breathe again. It’s as you cross the now leaving sign for Hawkins that you think maybe Steve hasn’t been haunting you, and if he was it’s only because maybe he’d want you to move on or at least get out of there.

#Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #major character death #I am feeling very nervous about posting this #it's kind of vulnerable to post your story here #sorry for the pain if you read this #but I hope you like it anyway #posting this and then running away from the internet for the night #watch no one read this at all #steve harrington

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wisegalaxysweets · 1 year

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Class of 2008: Chapter 4

Here is the fourth chapter of the Larry fic I am working on. It is on my AO3, but I am also posting the chapters here for those that prefer it.

pairing: Bad Boy!Harry Styles x Football Captain!Louis Tomlinson

rating: This chapter is pretty tame, just some relationship building.

word count: 2k

a/n: This fic is set at the start of the school year in 2007 where Louis Tomlinson is captain of the football team and the new freshman wearing leather, lots of rings, and sporting curly hair begins occupying his mind.

He had been to parties before, of course he had. He was the football captain and that meant he had been to way too many parties. The prospect of going to a house party felt like a waste of his Friday night, but his team was not letting him say no. So he had put on a bit of a nicer outfit than his normal athletic attire. Adjusting his skinny jeans and jacket, he made his way out the front door to his car.

The loud music that bumped from the house as he approached didn’t put his nerves at ease, but the comment that Mike had made earlier that day about their friend James inviting Harry to the party shouldn’t make him nervous. But here he is with sweaty hands and a fast heart rate, stepping up to the door. The last time he saw the taller boy was when he last had his tongue down his throat, which they both haven’t really talked about, even if it wasn’t the first time. It had all been passing touches and secret kisses since the first time in the storage closet and the second in the locker room.

He tries not to frantically search the dimly lit room of bodies as he enters the house. There is no long curly hair upon first glance and he is swept away by his teammates who quickly usher him back to the kitchen and place a drink in his hand. Jen is by his side before he knows it, but he can’t keep his mind from the eyes that had been so close to him only a few days ago. Louis has to shake his head from being deep in thought before he gets hard just thinking about the other boy.

“I’m gonna go get some air.” He says as he slips from his place around Jen, making his way towards the front door, doing his best to avoid the bodies grinding to the loud music booming through the house. The cold night air hits his face like a brief smack before feeling more refreshing. He hasn’t been at this party for more than ten minutes and he already wants to leave. He is planning his apologies to his friends about a headache when his thoughts are interrupted by the eyes he couldn’t forget all night.

“Hey.” There is that sheepish grin on Harry’s face again that Louis just can’t get used to seeing. He has exchanged his leather jacket for a red flannel and brown carhartt paired with his typical band shirt.

“Hey.” Louis returns, his brain is at a loss for words. All of the thoughts he had over the past few days were gone leaving him with nothing to say. The taller boy looked up at Louis where he was standing on the front porch, tapping his right foot behind his left almost like a nervous habit.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight. I guess I hoped you would be and I should have expected it since you’re so popular and this is probably a normal Friday night for you. I don’t go to many parties since I’m always the new kid at school, but I thought since James took the time to ask I might as well show up and make an appea-” Harry’s nervous babbling is cut short by a pair of warm lips on his own.

He is shocked for only a moment that the older boy made the first move, but melts into the kiss quickly, his hand moving to rest on the shorter boy’s waist. Louis had joined Harry down on the sidewalk in the slush that was previously snow and is perched on his tiptoes to reach up in order to kiss the biker.

He pulled back from the chaste kiss, “I’m sorry, that was so sudden I didn’t mean-” It was the older boy’s turn to have his words interrupted by a pair of lips, this time quickly licking into his mouth to deepen the kiss.

The cold weather outside meant they were the only two opting to stand outside rather than in the heat of the house, but their kiss was heating up and making for a more pleasant temperature between the two of them. Louis’ hands laced into their place at the nape of Harry’s neck and he is concerned with how familiar this all feels.

How do they already have a routine of sorts? How does Harry know to grip his waist just right to earn a light moan from the back of his throat. He pulls away, panting and out of breath, meeting those perfect eyes that he thinks may be filled with something resembling adoration.

“I should really get back inside. My friends are going to come looking for me.” He pulls his arms from their place around the taller boy’s neck and quickly turns to walk up the porch stairs when a large, ring-clad hand grabs his own, causing him to stop one step short of the front door. Turning to see why he had been stopped, Harry presses a brief kiss to his lips before letting go and passing him to step inside the loud house.

Louis stands stunned for a moment at the innocent peck they had just shared, a deep blush smatters over his face. He hopes it will go away or else he will blame it on the cold. No one’s head turns to look as he slowly walks inside, but he somehow feels like all eyes are still on him.

His heart is racing and he feels vulnerable and exposed, but why he can’t tell. His friends all shout drunken greetings as he makes his way back into the kitchen and resumes his place next to Jen. His eyes only catch sight of the long haired boy as he grabs a drink from the kitchen and quickly disappears down a dim hallway.

[peaches & cream - 112]

A slight buzz comes over Louis as he nurses the drink in his hand, his thoughts jumbled trying to figure out what he was supposed to do with himself. He didn’t know how to keep playing perfect boyfriend and jock at a party. Not after the innocent kiss he received from the boy who usually has much dirtier intentions.

Louis racked his brain to figure out why it had felt so much different this time. Maybe the motivation behind it was different. No motivation for their kiss to be a means to an end. It was a kiss just to be a kiss. They hadn’t talked about what they were doing or why they were doing it, just feeling things out. This seemed different though and had an emotion behind it that Louis didn’t recognize. He wanted to know what it meant.

“I’ve gotta run to the bathroom.” He excused himself from beside his girlfriend once more and ventured down the darkened hall that Harry had left to earlier. There were couples scattered down the hallway, much like the rest of the house. Louis began to peer into each room that he passed if the doors were unlocked. He saw the typical make out and groping sessions that one would expect from a party like this one. He didn’t actually know what he was doing other than maybe looking for Harry. He figured he would use the restroom like he had told his friends, even if he didn’t really need to go.

When he opened the door to the restroom, he was surprised to find the curly headed biker he had sought out there. Harry’s hand was raking through his long hair as he leaned over the counter, a solemn look on his face.

“Hey.” Louis said as he quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind himself. Instinctively, he locked the door, the click causing Harry to look up at him with wide eyes. “Are you okay?”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he pushed off of the counter.

“Um, yeah I’m ok. Did you need to use the bathroom?” He eyed Louis up and down as the shorter boy fidgeted.

“No, I was looking for you actually,” he grasped lightly at his fingers, it was a terrible habit that only came out when he was nervous. It shouldn’t be coming out now, he shouldn’t be nervous with Harry, but for some reason he was.

“Me? Not sure why you would be looking for me. Not with Jen on your arm at least.” Louis knit his eyebrows in confusion at the comment.

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I want to come talk to you?” He made a step closer, gaining some sort of confidence despite his confusion.

“We don’t exactly do public things.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I know, that is kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” Louis leaned against the door and slid down it to sit on the floor. He huffed out a bit of frustration, running his hand through his hair. Harry joined him on the floor looking curious and a little nervous. Now that was something he didn’t see from the younger boy.

“There is this whole complicated set of thoughts in my head that I can’t seem to organize. And it’s not anything that is anyone’s fault because I should know my sexuality by my senior year of high school, but you came into my world and turned it upside down and I just don’t know how to do this or who to be anymore.” Louis spoke fast, looking between his hands and Harry’s face exasperatedly. He was met only with a look of deep intent and understanding.

“I get it. You have this construct of what the world looks like as you have experienced it so far and what your role in it is supposed to be. So I guess my question is, do you want a solution or just someone to listen to you work through your thoughts out loud?” Harry scooched a little closer to him, their knees now touching. Louis looked at him, not sure how someone so young could say something so wise.

“I guess both? I mean, I’ve barely organized my thoughts so it might help and the answer may be clearer to me with another opinion than just my own.” He looked to Harry for reassurance that he said the right thing. Maybe always needing validation was part of this thing he needed to tackle. Harry just nodded, prompting him to continue. “Like, I get I’m a cliche, right? The whole football captain, good student, dating the cheerleader thing. Like I get it. I’ve never really questioned whether or not I was doing what I wanted as long as I was doing what other people wanted me to do. Which is a whole issue in and of itself, but living my life kind of complacent and never pushing boundaries or going out of my comfort zone was never a conscious decision, it just…..was. But…you’re the first thing to wake me up from what feels like a life-long nap.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility.” Harry chuckled slightly as he looked down at his feet.

“It is, and I don’t mean to put that on you. You don’t need to do any of this for me. I just kind of hoped you would be there. Since you’re kind of the only person I can talk to about this.” Louis’ voice trailed off, not sure what to say next. Harry sensed his pause and placed a calming hand on the older boy’s knee.

“It’s ok, I would like to be there for you. I know we’ve been having fun, and I knew you didn’t really want to talk about all of it just yet, but I did worry that you were just kind of experimenting and I was happy to be that for you, but I couldn’t help to want something..more?”

Louis’ eyes met Harry’s and he finally understood the looks he hadn’t been able to interpret. Harry had feelings for him beyond the physical. He placed his hand on top of Harry’s gently.

“How do I tell my girlfriend of three years I want to leave her because I think I’m gay?” Louis smiled as Harry burst out a laugh that almost resembled a squawk.

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to laugh, you just said that so reverently.”

“It does sound a little ridiculous, but I just wouldn’t feel right staying with her if I’m still questioning myself.”

“I get it, part of being honest with yourself also includes being honest with other people.” Harry smiled at Louis as he felt him finally relax a bit.

#Harry Styles #louis tomlinson #harry styles smut #louis tomlinson smut #Harry Styles x Louis Tomlinson

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kingdomoftyto · 11 months

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Against my better judgment, I have watched the F/NaF movie

My coworkers talked me into it with their lukewarm-but-not-actually-all-that-negative reviews, and I gotta say that it.... yeah, pretty much meets those mediocre expectations exactly hgdsfsdgs

[Spoilers ahead, if that wasn't obvious from the readmore]

Pros:

surprisingly well-written and -acted main character. I kinda liked Mike and his personal arc was coherent and felt complete

not TOO many fanservicey references. I was afraid they were going to shoehorn in stuff from every single game and maybe talk about that Remnant stuff from the books and who knows what else, but it was RELATIVELY focused and without any numerous memes, so. good job on clearing that low bar ig

not OVERLY gory and with only a couple of sorta-jumpscares. (honestly probably leaned a little TOO safe on this end, was clearly pushing to appeal to the child audience, which... listen we don't have time to unpack that right now)

they definitely found.... A way to cram the events of the first 3 or so games into the same point in time! again, not as bad a job as you could have done, congrats!!

I did find it heartwarming to be reminded that the trapped souls are still children and to see them playing together as friends. you never really get to see that side of them in the games.

Cons:

*cradles that one Wendigoon video explaining the lore and timeline in my hands and weeps silently*

no no like I get it, I DO; they didn't have to adapt it exactly from the games, and I didn't expect them to!--and for the sake of simplicity (and runtime) it's probably good that they merged some events in the timeline--but why--WHY--do they always insist on flattening Afton even more into a 1-dimensional, evil-for-evil's-sake serial killer villain when there's a tragic tale of loss and descent into madness and quest for revenge RIGHT THERE

HE'S JUST A RANDO WHO KILLS CHILDREN (and??? security guards??? whom he hires?????) FOR KICKS NOW. COOL I GUESS

AND THEN ALL THE OTHER STUFF THAT MADE HIM INTERESTING HAS TO GO TOO BECAUSE HE'S JUST A CRAZY GUY WHO OWNS A RESTAURANT NOW HAHA

ghadjfhdsajgh seriously WHYYYYY HAVE HIM STUTTER ON MIKE'S LAST NAME AT THE BEGINNING IF NOT TO REVEAL THAT MIKE AND HIS SISTER WERE AFTONS ALL ALONG

no. no. I know why. because Vanessa.

V a n e s s a.

I knew deep in my heart that they were going to force the post-Ultimate Custom Night stuff on us AND YET I find myself disappointed anyway

but seriously. his daughter? VANESSA as William's DAUGHTER??

I gagged

I swear to god between the "Mike Sch-(!)" scene and all the shit with Elizabeth Abby being shoved into Circus Baby, I half wonder if the script was changed partway through and it WAS originally going to be a Michael Afton twist reveal.

all it would have taken, even with this version of Mike otherwise unchanged, would have been for him to have repressed the memory of his dad's face that day.

seriously if you can't give me tragic-backstory William, at LEAST give me twist reveal Michael Afton

anyway yeah they took all the big parts of the lore/story that make me actually care about the series and kinda spat on it, but to repeat myself once again: this was expected

......god and I can't believe they had the gall to have the animatronics killing ON AFTON'S ORDERS.................. don't even get me started. fuck.

anyway enough about divergence from the lore. moving on to other cons.....

what fanservice the movie DID have was still enough to make me roll my eyes pretty hard. as much as I thought it was nice to see the children's souls reflected in the animatronics, the parts where they were building forts and tickling Abby etc were nevertheless kinda dumb. and Vanessa joining in and encouraging it was very weird and EVEN dumber.

the criminals being sent in to rob the place only to be brutally murdered was. dumb. transparently an excuse to have some non-essential characters for the robots to kill. I mean I guess it was necessary because otherwise there'd be no way to show them actually killing anyone but. I mean if nothing else Max didn't deserve to die. what the hell was that about.

fuckin....... "that's just a theory"................. *breathes deeply for patience* just. all you have to do is have him show up and deliver a nondescript line. you can have a delightful cameo without making a whole scene screech to a halt like that. literally you could have just made him the "what an asshole!" pharmacist. fans still would have pointed and shouted upon seeing his face, and he still would have had a funny little line without it being a clunky wink to the audience. he's not a bad actor, either--I've seen him in some misc youtube skits--this was just a dumb scene.

as I kinda hinted at earlier, I think there maybe could have been MORE jumpscares, if anything? and coming from me, that's saying something. or maybe it's not the quantity, but the way the scares didn't have the impact I was expecting. Foxy rushing that guy in the hallway wasn't NEARLY as scary (or as fast??) as how he sprints in the game. c'mon, let 'em mimic things a little more 1:1 for at least ONE scare--it's what the series is known for!

(related side note: cannot BELIEVE there was no Toreador March from Freddy himself. how the hell.)

............ugh hhhhfffhfggggh nnnngghh seriously though MOSTLY I'm just mad that they made Afton so damn boring. he wasn't even scary when he did show up in the rabbit suit.... goofy-ass kitchen knife.... get the hell OUTTA here.......

anyway it was... fine!

.... as a standalone story. I guess. it's whatever.

it's a goofy horror movie dubiously targeted at kids, what can ya do

#don't worry i watched it the appropriate way btw 🏴‍☠️

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orderofeverything · 2 years

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Happy New Year!

2022 was a rough year, a lot of sadness and loss, yet I still feel strangely grateful for what I do have. I work a lot as a gig driver, I'm getting old, but I have a humble but nice little house, I work when and how I want and when I consider the sheer hell that a homeless person, or someone in the Ukraine must deal with on an hourly basis then by contrast my life such as it is, is still pretty great even though sad by many typical first world standards.

My resolution is to try to slow down and seek out experiences instead of just working all the time. I do need to work to prepare for retirement, but as I get older I also need to be more cognizant of how little time I have left. Getting older feels more and more like a terminal illness with each passing year and time moves faster and faster, especially if you work all the time.

I watched the end of the White Lotus Season 2.

What do I think about it?

I don't know, I grow weary about attempting to say anything original or profound anymore. It's the feeling you have that I call, and probably many others before me, the Reddit syndrome that we are no longer capable of saying anything worthwhile first... so you just look for your thoughts in the comments and upvote the closest thing to yourself when you see it.

The setting was more beautiful in season 1. The palette of season 1 was strangely muted for Hawaii, this one had more color and sun in Sicily.

Creator Mike White said the first season was about money, the second season was about sex, and the third season would be about... (I've already forgotten)

So a lot of the characters were from my generation, Jennifer Coolidge, Michael Imperioli, Valentina the hotel manager, and Tom Hollander and his crew. They aren't quite completely out to pasture like F. Murray Abraham's Bert, but they are aware of how close they are, and they all need money or power to hold on to whatever sexual capital they have left.

The younger generation characters can still get what they want sexually but they are hung up on getting the money that ultimately does nothing for any of the older characters. It gives access to second hand beauty... they can attempt to recreate that pure, innocent form of love that now only exists in idealized form, crystallized like Holden Caulfield's museum pieces.

Which is shattered like Bert's fairy tale conception of a returning conquering hero like Michael Corleone's in the Godfather.

And his grandson's knight in shining armor fantasy with the prostitute.

When Will Sharpe's character breaks the veneer of his Matrix like meta reality and pummels Theo James's face and maybe? fucks his wife, when he breaks the piece of glasswork in their hotel room, shattering literally the world of artifice and rediscovers his own wife again, he regains access to the tangible pulsating reality of the world that the two Italian prostitutes and the English hustler inhabit.

I think my flu/cold is over... last night for New Year's I was able to do over three miles on my treadmill.

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looye29 · 2 years

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I decided to review ED Elixir simply because (like a lot of guys out there) I thought it was too good to be true. I mean, come on: A system that costs under a hundred bucks (WAY under) and treats erectile dysfunction naturally, no “little blue pills” needed? Keep on reading to learn the truth. What is ED Elixir? I’ll get to the ingredients in a couple of minutes but first, some backstory. Mike, the US Marine Corps veteran who created ED Elixir, stumbled upon this formula by accident after having a run-in with a dangerous penis injection that sent him to the hospital and almost cost him his ability to ever have sex again. Mike’s story definitely got my attention. Like me, he has a gorgeous wife who’s more than ready to enjoy one-on-one time in the bedroom, but who was being left disappointed again and again while Mike struggled with erectile dysfunction. Desperate for a solution, Mike first turned to prescription drugs. He was excited to achieve a full erection after years of nothing following a roadside bombing incident while he was on active duty, but his excitement was short-lived: He experienced severe side effects and was concerned that if he took the prescription again, he might become a statistic. In reading about Mike’s experience with erectile dysfunction, I found out that nearly 1,000 men die from heart attacks brought on by side effects of ED prescriptions. I’m glad I read Mike’s story when I did, because I was on the verge of asking my own doctor for a description. So, back to Egypt, where Mike discovered the ED Elixir formula with the help of a local doctor. The doctor, having treated Mike after his penile enhancement attempt went wrong, gave him an age-old remedy aimed at restoring circulation and increasing Mike’s cardiovascular health at the same time. The doctor explained that the two issues went hand in hand, and he encouraged Mike to make and consume the tea. Long story short, Mike faithfully mixed up this tea and drank it day after day. After some time, he noticed that he was regaining sensation in his groin and soon, his soldier was standing at attention. He and his wife were overjoyed and began to enjoy better sex than they ever had before. When Mike ran out of the remedy, he wanted to recreate it. He had it analyzed, learned about the ingredients, and ultimately consulted again with the Egyptian doctor, who provided more insight. Soon after that, Mike formulated ED Elixir and decided that he needed to share his secret with other men who were suffering from the shame and disappointment of ED. What is in ED Elixir? As it turns out, ED Elixir isn’t a bottle of supplements. Instead, it’s an elixir you mix yourself with ingredients that are inexpensive and easy to obtain. Mike could have created and sold an ED Elixir supplement but through his own experience, discovered that the blend of ingredients could be tweaked to handle different forms of erectile dysfunction. All of the ingredients come together to support circulation throughout your body and improve your blood flow so that you can restore your boner to its former glory and perhaps even add inches to your erection. Since so many of us experience feelings of shame, disappointment, and loss when we suffer from erectile dysfunction, Mike decided to create an entire system including mental tips and tricks aimed at getting over the mental hurdles that happen when we’re afraid that we won’t be able to perform, and that are cemented into place as we experience the physical difficulties associated with erectile dysfunction. ED Elixir includes a full guide to nutrients, natural aphrodisiacs, and more, all intended to do what prescription drugs, weird penis pumps, and scary injections can’t do: Improve your body’s blood flow so you can have rock-hard erections again Repair vascular inflammation associated with worsening erectile dysfunction

Improve your self-confidence Bring back your libido Restore full sensation so sex feels better than ever Many men who review ED Elixir report that besides an end to erectile dysfunction, they are enjoying more energy overall. Quite a few find that they’re able to return to working out, feeling more masculine, and even focusing better at work. What Else is Included? I was shocked to find out that there’s quite a bit to the ED Elixir program and I was also shocked by the price. One thing at a time, though. The ED Elixir program has several components, starting with the list of ingredients, how and why they work, and how to combine them to get the best, fastest results possible and end the erectile dysfunction nightmare. It also includes a guide to customizing all of the ingredients to meet your needs, since there are different ED symptoms and issues. I touched on the mental aspects of ED a minute ago and I’m pretty sure that you know what I’m talking about. Every time we fail to achieve an erection, every time we get hard but can’t stay that way, every time we disappoint our partners and ourselves, we feel a deep sense of shame, failure, and embarrassment that just gets worse over time. It’s one of the worst feelings in the world and if you’re at all like me, you know it’s one of the worst things about ED. You feel worse than a failure – you can’t even be a real man. And you keep on beating yourself up, over and over. Instead of anticipating intimacy and looking forward to sex, you find yourself dreading it. You tell yourself that this time, it’s going to be even worse than last time. And because you believe it, your body responds accordingly. Your physical problems are compounded by your mental anguish. Mike digs deep into the mental issues associated with erectile dysfunction. It’s one of the reasons why I’m leaving such a detailed review of ED Elixir. You can tell by reading his story that he’s been where you are, right there suffering, wondering if his marriage was over because he could no longer satisfy his beautiful wife. Mike’s familiarity with the psychological pain that accompanies ED led him to develop several extras: Sexual Stamina Secrets – A complete guide to building sexual stamina so you can go even longer than before. This guide is a game changer as it includes shortcuts and mental hacks to eliminate the emotional damage inflicted during your time with ED. Dirty Talk Secrets – I don’t know about you, but after such a long battle with ED and complete avoidance of anything sexual, I needed this. It’s basically a guide to talking dirty, turning her on, and getting the hottest action ever. Word to the wise, this is definitely NSFW. Her Ultimate Fantasy Lover – So you weren’t quite Romeo before? Don’t worry, because this is the ultimate guide to transforming yourself into an incredible lover, pleasing her, and making her want you more than ever. What are the Benefits of ED Elixir? Men who review ED Elixir tend to notice similar benefits. Here are some I’ve encountered myself, along with benefits that other men have noticed. Fast and easy to use – takes about 30 seconds per day No weird gadgets or needles No side effects like those listed on ED drug package inserts Stronger, harder erections that improve over time Confidential; nobody has to know that you are fighting a battle with ED An end to the embarrassment and feelings of failure that often accompany erectile dysfunction Natural erections when the moment is right Passionate, exciting sex for you and your partner Better stamina than ever Increased circulation can add inches to your erect penis size Inexpensive (this one surprised me!) OK, so Is ED Elixir worth the price? Here’s where the proverbial rubber meets the road, guys. You’re going to be as shocked as I was when you learn the price of ED Elixir.

Mike is just about giving it away. The entire system is 37 bucks. Yes, you read that correctly. For a measly $37 (that is less than the average price of a single Viagra tablet in many places) you get the whole program and all the benefits that come with it. And just in case it doesn’t work for you (or you don’t like it for whatever reason) Mike offers a 60-day money back guarantee. This means you either have your manhood restored and start enjoying a sex life again or you get your money back. I don’t know about you, but I feel like it’s more than worth it!

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faded-euphoria · 3 years

Text

More.

Michael Afton x Reader

Fluff. One-Shot. Friends to Lovers.

CW/TW: Slight mentions of sex/alluding to sex, but its just 2 sentences.

A/N: I wrote this at 2 in the morning while watching a minecraft stream. help.

Working as a security guard at Freddy's was hell. Doesn't matter if its during the day or during the night, its hell. But having someone with you always helps, even if you're both related to the owners of the establishment. You, the child of Henry Emily, and Michael, the child of William Afton. You both had known eachother since your fathers had started to work together.

After learning about what Mr.Afton did to those children, Michael had seemed to grow frightened of getting close to people. The loss of his brother before that and his sister after, not to mention the divorce his parents went through. So much had happened in such a short time. He needed someone to lean on, and thats where you came in.

Being there for him was the best thing for him. And then Charlotte passed away, your little sister, and he was there for you, helped you through the same thing he went through with Evan and Elizabeth. After a while you two moved in together, nothing going on between you two, but you just needed eachother.

Of course you two grew closer over the weeks, months, and now, almost a year together in that house. You both decided to take the investigation at Freddy's into your own hands. So here you are, 5 AM so so close to being done, bored out of your minds. You hadn't found anything, nothing big had happened, yea sure Bonnie and Chica roamed around a little bit, nothing too much. They stayed in the dining area, and faced the tables like they were programmed, but thats all.

You leaned over, resting your head on Michael's shoulder, a small yawn escaping your mouth, it might've been Michael's 4th nigh there, but it was your first. The clock chimed as it hit 6 AM, Michael patted your knee, and you raised your head, looking up as he rose from his seat beside you. "I honestly thought something bad was gonna happen." He looked down at you, helping you stand up gently. The lights in the hallways flickered to life, and then in the main area as the next guard came into the office.

You said your greetings, smiling tiredly at the man and then following behind Michael to the back exit, then to the car. The drive home was silent, there honestly wasn't anything to be said after such an uneventful night, yet somehow something seemed off about the man in the drivers seat.

As you walked into your shared home, you gently reached for him,"Hey, Mike... Can we sleep in your bed?" We. He nodded a little,"Yea, go get cleaned up in your bathroom, I'll get cleaned up in mine, is that okay?"

You smiled, squeezing his hand a little," Yea thats perfect, thank you," You tiredly slipped up stairs to your bathroom, while he moved to get to his. About 15 minutes later, you both met in his room, you were dressed in your sleeping shorts and a loose fitting shirt, him in his boxers and a shirt. He was fiddling with something on his nightstand, from your vantage point, it looked like a necklace. Tiredly, you walked over to him, your arms snaking loosely around his waist with your head resting on his back,"Are you okay? Like genuinely...?" You spoke softly, nuzzling closer to him.

"I... I think so." He placed the necklace down, his hand running up and down your arms. "Y/N?" You hummed in response,"What are we?" He gently turned in your arms, his own finding his way around you. "What do you mean?" You leaned away a little, looking up at him. "We... we're more than friends. We have to be, we spend too many nights together, we hold eachother too much, I..."

You smiled gently,"I love you." Your hand slowly crawled their way up to his face, gently cupping his cheeks," I love you Michael." Your thumb brushed his cheek, he leaned into your touch, his eyes looking into yours. You pressed yourself closer to him, leaning up and pressing your lips to his. His arms slipped to your waist, pulling you closer, a small low sigh of relief escaping him. All too soon you both broke the sweet kiss, foreheads resting against eachother's. "I love you too, Y/N... thank you." He kissed you again, softly. A smile on his lips as you pulled him down on top of you.

One of his arms stayed around you to help prop himself up while the other went to your hip,"What do you think you're doing?" There was a playful tone to his voice as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, then soft butterfly kisses to your neck,"Going to bed, with you, just as intended." You cupped his cheek and carefully pushed him to his side, curling into him. "I'm absolutely too tired to do anything else, love." Your hands found their way to his chest as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close and staying like that for a few moments before you fell into a deep slumber. "Goodnight, my beloved." He whispered into your hair, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head as you both fell asleep.

#Fnaf #fnaf x reader #michael afton #michael afton x reader #michael afton scenarios #michael afton imagine #afton x reader

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80s4life · 3 years

Text

Little Dove*

Word Count: 3,949

Status: Not Requested!

A/N: Had a thought lol

Fandom: Karate Kid 1985

Relationship: John Kreese x Student!Female Reader

Summary: You had stayed around throughout all of his bullshit. Throughout the beginning of a forever-long battle with Daniel LaRusso, throughout losing all of his Cobra Kais, going through crippling debt, and now, more than ever, as he tries to put himself together. You’ve been there, the whole time. So why is it, that when a random man from his past appears, all of his problems are fixed without a glance your way? What does this Terry Silver have that you don’t (besides endless money and a history)? It’s unfair. It’s selfish. It’s Kreese.

Taglist: @intersellars-the-alien-of-human @snapessecretdiary

Warnings: smut, teasing, jealousy, age-gap paring, language, Terry being an overprotective cockblock, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slight dubcon, daddy/little girl kink, degrading kink

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist

{not my gif, credits belong to @atmostories}

I just love how innocent he looks here lol ^

Staring into the window of his office, you make no attempt in engaging in the conversation your peers were having, the people on the other side of the glass proving to be more interesting at the moment. Besides, it’s the same conversation over and over again, “Terry’s so great,” “The money,” “The brawn,” “The elegance,” you snort. All that Terry was anyway was trouble with enough money to pay off his stupidity.

The other man, however, was different. He did not become as fortunate as his younger companion. He went through many hardships that Terry would simply never understand. The proof: you. You had been there, through thick and thin. You can still remember the fights, injuries, and brokenness of a man like a slideshow constantly playing in your head, haunting your dreams. You should’ve left a long time ago, but you didn’t. There were points in your life that made you consider dropping him and everything he was in contact with at one point. But, yet again, you never did. All you did was forgive and forget, most of the time without apologies.

But no matter how much you’ve tried, there was always one outlier that couldn’t be erased.

Holding onto your brothers shoulder, you congratulate him on how well he’d done. He lost the tournament, but it was his heart that shined through it. Johnny was the one who handed LaRusso his trophy even as they were beating each other senseless moments ago. Pulling him in tightly, you whisper, “You did good, Blondie. We’ll get ‘em next year.”

He smiles broadly at this, returning the favor, “You didn’t do too bad yourself, Tiny. Hell, maybe next year, you’ll be the one to beat his ass for me... That, or you’ll be the same height as him,” he ruffles your hair.

“Shut up!” you swat his hands playfully, shouldering his side, then making your way over to the man of the hour. “Congratulations,” you outstretch your hand, “You were tough to beat! I’ll get ya one day though!” you point to him smiling as Johnny pulls you out of the arena with him.

“Thanks...Oh, and I’ll hold you to it!” he yells back, lifting his trophy high above his head. You leave with a sly smirk and playful roll of the eyes, not bad LaRusso.

Walking outside, you smile at Kreese nervously, knowing that he wasn’t going to take the loss lightly. Ignoring you completely, he snatches your brother from your grasp within moments, pinning him the the nearest car in the parking lot. With Johnny under the weight of Kreese, you try to yank him off, no longer in fear of your actions but what could happen if you don’t act fast. Shoving you out of the way with a hard jab of his elbow to your eye, Kreese goes back to harming your brother, switching positions as he goes to tighten his arm around Johnny’s neck.

Tommy, fearing for his life, stands still, on the verge of passing out. Dutch goes to help you up, pulling you away from Kreese’s proximity, but not for long. Full of anger and disappointment, you tear you body away from Dutch’s, giving him a stern look that he acknowledges and respects, stepping back. You run towards Kreese once more, putting more force into your pushes and shoves. He catches your eyes for a moment, anger glazing over his own as he gets a good look at the utter helplessness and determination within your own. He doesn’t loosen up though, tightening his hold even more so as if to test you.

Lunging once more, he blocks you from him and counters with a hard blow to your face. You fall again at Kreese’s feet, Johnny’s purpling face looking down at yours in fear and worry. As you go to make a final attempt, your prayers are answered, a man about your height grabbing Kreese’s fist in a vice grip. In a daze, Johnny is able to slip from his hold to the ground beneath him, falling into your outstretched arms as you lunge, again, to protect his head. Kreese, now turning his fury onto the short man, goes for a punch, missing and smashing the glass beside his target.

As the fight starts to get worse, Dutch gets a hold of Johnny, taking his weight off of yours and dragging him to safety. Jimmy and Bobby, going to help Dutch, leaves Tommy to help you up. Taking his hand gratefully, you are able to see Kreese’s demise clearly, a burning crimson decorating his now busted fists, no doubt shredded and in need of medical care. You turn back just in time for him to look your way, grief washing over your figure as you feel a sense of uncertainty.

The boys get into Johnny’s car quickly, pulling out of the car lot. Tommy, silently turning his calming body to yours, questions you with his eyes. Shaking your head lightly, you signal for him to go with them, your head hazy with the brute force of numerous blows previously clashing with your face. He nods knowingly, smiling weakly, as if questioning your motives or even why you were considering the choice you’d made up. Johnny looks back at you too, but is reassured as the short man, Mr. Miyagi, places a hand on your shoulder. As they peel out of the lot, you sigh and all the strength you’d conjured dropped instantly.

“You need checkup,” the older man states, looking you over.

“Yeah, but I need to take care of him first,” you point at the man.

“Ah. Good heart always forgives. You come by dojo sometime.”

“I’ll think about it,” you answer, kindly excusing yourself as LaRusso runs over to Miyagi, leaving just you and Kreese left in the parking lot.

Slowly, you pace yourself as to not speed too closely, too quickly to the man, walking lightly and quietly. Upon entering a close proximity, he looks up, neutral expression catching you off guard. Blinking once, he looks back down at his continuously bleeding hands, acknowledging your presence but not daring to step the line of communication. He never does.

“Do you...Do you n- ...?” you start, at a loss for words as you try to rephrase the question in a way to still make him feel superior without appearing weak to himself, “Do you want my help?”

He doesn’t say anything as an answer, just simply stares at the reddening hands.

So, following his chosen behavior, you adopt it and act the same. Slowly, you take off your fleece sweater, soft and warm to the touch, and move closer to Kreese. As you move into his personal space, you don’t dare look him in the eyes, and go to rip a piece of the sweater in half. Silently, you carefully take one of his hands in your own, them swallowing yours in turn. Wrapping the now torn cloth around his fists, you slightly tighten the material around the injury to prevent further bleeding, tying off the ends to keep the sweater where you want it. Turning to do the same for the other hand, Kreese never winces, or sucks in a breath, or even grunts in anguish.

As you finish your duty, you step back, parts of your hands and some of your pants now coated in differing amounts of blood from the constant dripping mess he’d left it in for a while. Taking in a deep breath, you look at him directly for the first time of the night, “Get in the car.”

That was the first of many nightmares that litter your mind. You grew into a tough, headstrong, and independent woman not only physically, but mentally as well. You were no longer the child looked down from the tip of Kreese’s nose, and despite your height not making much of a difference, you had filled into your body, soul, and mind. You were a woman nonetheless.

You were understood by Johnny, but to an extent. As you had continued to serve Kreese, it was only right that Johnny distanced himself from him, and with that, came you as well. You accepted this, and knew that you were not at war with him, settling for calls and texts when you missed him most. Johnny still allowed you the time to talk about your problems like you did in high school, and even let you rant about the newest situation with Kreese. Everyday, he worried for you, but he knew that this was what you wanted.

He knew you fell for him before you even had.

After that night, you went through phases with Kreese: sometimes he was happy and nice to you, other times was full of anger, arguments, and nonstop screaming at one another. You were like an old married couple without the ring, matrimony, and age. You didn’t pay any mind to it, the mixture of feelings for him stronger than the will to leave as you’d wanted to in your youth.

But overall was the feeling of betrayal, or at least a form of it. For 4 years, after the night of the failed tournament, you were with Kreese, and finally, when things started to clear themselves out, another problem arose. Although shit out of luck, Kreese was ready to give up the dojo, give it to the owner, and move on in hopes of wiping the slate clean. You were ready to forgive him. And then, Terry Silver, unable to let the past be the past, convinced Kreese to give it a second try.

Now as you sit in a circle with Dennis, Mike, and Snake on the mat of the dojo, doing some stretches before training starts, you couldn’t help but look at the men excluding you from something you had tried to keep alive as long as they had. Longer than Terry at least.

Snapping sounds through your frustrated haze, knocking you back into reality by Snake’s fingers. Scrunching your nose in confusion, you look at him, anger now turned towards him instead. “You keep drooling like that and we’ll all be slipping around and breaking shit. Then how would we be at the tournament?”

“Fuck you, Snake,” you get up, stomping to the office without another word. He just turns a mock-offended expression to the boys who give confused ones in return.

Storming into the small cubicle deemed an office, you turn to the men standing side-by-side. “Aw, what’s the matter sweetheart? The boys not playing fair?” Terry teases, trying to push your buttons.

Face now reddened with anger, you spit, “We don’t pay for you to sit around in your office and play with each other’s dicks. You can do that on your own time.”

“You don’t pay period as far as I’m concerned. And last time I checked, you weren’t of much use here anyways, Shortcake,” Terry rebuttals.

“And last time I checked, you're just here to tie your hair back, paint your nails, torture a kid half your age and an man even older than you.”

“Why you-!”

“Terry!” Kreese warns, a hand placed on his comrades’ chest, “It’s not worth your time, just go get the boys readied up for practice.”

“Sure...sure Johnny, I can do that,” he says eagerly, leaving the room with a side glance your way and elbow to the shoulder as he passes by.

Getting up from the back of the desk, Kreese loops around to close the office door, going back to where he was previously. “Wow, you really have that dog under wraps huh? Ready to bark when you say ‘bark’ or growl when you say ‘growl’?”

“Y/N, not now. You better cut this shit out now or I’ll kick you out,” he warns.

“Oh, so now your protecting him?! You’re going to sit here, right now, and threaten me for what? Because he served with you? Because you saved him?! What a load of shit!”

“Watch your mouth! You have no right to raise your voice to me! What I do with this dojo is none of your damn business, and will certainly never concern you. Ever.”

“Oh yeah! For sure! What did he even do, huh? What’s so great about him that is worth protecting his ass for when he’s never had to do anything in return?! I was there John! I was! I dealt with your shit for 4 years! Not 1! Not 2! Not even fucking 3!”

“I never told you to! No one was stopping you from walking out that damn door when everyone else had! I would’ve done perfectly fine without your ‘help’ when all it did was provide extra shit to take care of!”

“Really?! That’s what it was? Nothing? I dealt with your anger issues, your screaming! The god damn punches, kicks, spits, screams, hell anything you wanted to do in order to harm someone else to make you feel better! But that wasn’t me... No... Of course it wasn’t, right?”

“I’ve got no time for this. Stay in this fucking room and don’t move. You even dare come out into that dojo and you’re out. I have a winner to make and not some little girl to argue with.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, tears pooling at the bottom of your eyelids as the door hides you from view.

For hours, you sit in boredom, listening to the repetitive “hut” or “ah” as blow after blow is thrown into the dummies and punching bags. If only they could do that to me, take me out of my misery for fuck’s sake. But, despite the utter pissed state you were in, you did not move from the desk, even deciding to take a nap. It wasn’t until Dennis’ unusually loud laugh is echoed within the whole dojo do you finally wake back up. Looking through the blinds, you see the boys getting packed up. Doing the same, you walk out of the office just in time for Terry to leave with the boys a few moments later.

Speeding across the length of the mats, you take long strides in order to storm as fast as possible out of the cage that holds the biggest chains around your neck. Going for the door, you are unable to catch yourself as Kreese grabs your hand and flips you onto your back, splaying your body on the mats beneath you.

Groaning, you move to sit up, watching as he goes to lock the door to the dojo, throwing the keys somewhere and closing the blinds of the big glass panes adorning the front wall. Getting up, the harbored anger floods your being once more, “I’m done with your bullshit Kreese. Let me the fuck out so I can leave this place once and for all. You seem to be doing ‘perfectly fine’ with your boyfriend, so let me go!”

Without answering, he grabs you by the neck firmly, but not enough to choke you. The memories of Johnny instantly flood your mind, causing you to grab his hand just as tight, eyes peering straight into his. Noticing your change in demeanor, he loosens his hold a little and pushes your back up against the closest wall to your back. As your back collides with the wall, his lips clasp yours.

Whining in surprise, you go to pull back only for him to pull you closer by the neck. Realization dawns on you after a moment, and within seconds, your leaning into his touch absentmindedly. You only break apart once your lungs beg for more air. “There. Is that what you wanted?” he asks you, voice gravelly.

Ignoring his comment, you grab him by the nape of his neck, pulling him into you once again, tongue battling his own. Your tongue dances around, observing every crevice and tasting every bit of his mouth, grazing his teeth, biting his lips, and even tangling it with his. Taking control back, he shoves your body back into the wall, separating your mouth from his, a trail of saliva the only thing connecting your bodies.

His hand, long forgotten and hanging loose on your neck, tightens the grip back up firmly once again and moves his other to pin your arms above your head. Now basking in dominance, he kisses you once more, pinning his knee between your legs in the most delicious way. Taking advantage of the placement, you attempt to grind your core against his thigh to relieve some tension.

“Ah. Ah. Ah,” he warns, pulling his knee away and moving to unbuckle his belt instead, “On your knees, Slut.”

Obeying instantly, you do as he says and place yourself on your knees. Finally undoing the tie of his gi, he pulls his pants, alongside his underwear, down just enough to let his dick spring free. Gulping in admiration, you take in the view of his girth and length, precum oozing at the tip.

“Looks like your happy to see me,” you joke, loosening your tension in your shoulders.

Stepping closer, Kreese edges closer to your mouth, and, taking the hint, you wrap one hand around the base of his shaft. Your other hand, deciding teasing is the best get-back, wraps itself closer to the tip, thumb grazing the slit. Earning a shudder of pleasure from the man, he goes to move in closer again. Pulling your head away, you squeeze the tip loosely, staring up at Kreese.

At your locked gaze, his cheeks burn bright pink, enabling you to give the man what he wants now that he’s at a loss for words and flustered for you. Taking him into your mouth little by little, you stop just before the barricade of choking. Eyes locked onto his, you place your hands on either side of his hips for support, then take him in as fully as physically possible. Instantly, you are met by struggling moans of relief.

Swirling your tongue around and lapping at his veiny member, he struggles to control himself, the undying need for more consuming him. Pulling away just enough to keep the tip in your mouth, you nod at him, giving him the okay to do as he pleases. That was all he needed to start going, pulling your mouth around his cock again, and tangling his hands in your hair for a better grip. Thrusting into your mouth now, you try your best to breathe as you feel him start twitching, knowing you will be fine in a few minutes.

The closer he gets to ecstasy, the louder he gets, hips thrusting in any possible direction as his pleasure threatens to bubble over. “Look at me,” he orders, looking you in the eyes. Slightly confused, you do as told, looking at him through your eyelashes as he continuously uses your mouth. “That’s it, Good Girl.”

Without warning, he unleashes his load into your mouth, the hot and sticky cum shooting to the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow. Licking up the remains, you make a show of swallowing the contents as well, getting back onto your feet with a help of his hand. Pulling your body into his, he kisses you deeply, tasting himself.

You whine as you are still left in uncomfortable need for him, having not gotten your share just yet, the feeling of being filled a painful reminder. “Don’t worry, Daddy’ll take care of you.” And that, he does, getting to work on untying your gi and throwing the long-sleeved shirt over you head. Doing the same to him, you match his enthusiasm, pulling his shirt off and throwing it somewhere in the room.

Playing with your clothed breasts, Kreese slips a hand under your bra to pinch your nipples, twisting them between his middle and fore fingers. Moaning, you pull him into your chest nibbling his ear. Gliding his hands down your sides and to your waist, he slowly edges his fingers slightly underneath your pants, pushing them down with your panties. As he busies himself with your clothes, you move your hands behind your back to unclasp your bra, breasts springing free and instantly hardening at the new temperature of the room.

Fingers, teasing your entrance, catches you off-guard, moaning again at the first shocks of pleasure. “Kreese,” you start breathlessly, “Enough is enough. Mgh... Stop teasing me,” you try to order, impatient and horny.

“As you wish, Princess.”

Lifting up one of your legs and wrapping it around his hipbone, he lines himself up with your entrance, entering slowly. Together, you sigh in ease simultaneously. Nodding once, you lean your forehead underneath his chin, starting to thrust slowly. Knowing this isn’t the pace he prefers, and body adjusting to his shape, you pull him in closer, whispering in his ear, “Faster, Daddy.”

Jolting at the name, he fastens the pace, grinding in rougher strokes, rubbing every part of you body in the best way possible. No one’s ever filled you the way he is now, and it leaves you stunned in a trance of utter euphoria. Tapping your other leg, you hop up to warp both legs around Kreese. At the new angle, he thrusts upwards, the overstimulation causing you to shake in a new sensation.

Squeezing his dick tightly, you try to hold your orgasm off for as long as possible, but the building want of release causes you to topple over the edge quickly, spilling all over the body still within your own. Without faltering, Kreese continues his assault on your body, causing you to scream out in the fury of pleasure being all too much for you. Shaking harder, you struggle to keep yourself around his body for long.

Seeing this, Kreese keeps himself sheathed in your cunt, laying you on your back against the mats of the flooring. Grabbing your legs, Kreese bends them until your thighs meet your chest. Then, thrusting at the same pace as before, Kreese is able to fuck you senseless without further issues. Moaning screams of ecstasy echo throughout the dojo, the combination of yourself and the slapping of skin being the only noises in the room.

As quickly as you’d built up the previous time, your orgasm and need of release forms again, your pussy throbbing in anticipation. “Kreese..” is all you manage, the older man quickly teetering towards the edge with you. Thrusting the hardest he had the whole night, he manages only a few more before you both come at the same time, screaming as you pull him down by the neck and into your chest, your name falling from his tongue in multiples.

Sucking in as much air as possible, Kreese and you stay in the same position panting before he unsheathes himself and collapses next to you. Catching your breath, you cuddle into his side in a naked heap of sweat and satisfaction. “Are you still jealous of Terry now?”

“It depends, am I still as useless as before?”

“I don’t believe so,” Kreese giggles, “but if you pull another crazy stunt like that, I will really have to give you a good beating. Huh, Babydoll?”

“I like the sound of that,” you say, going to straddle his hips as he lays on his back, “How about round two and I’ll consider not ripping his throat out?”

“Deal.”

#john kreese x reader #john kreese imagine #john kreese #martin kove #martin kove x reader #martin kove imagine #terry silver #tig #thomas ian griffith #mike barnes #sean kanan #kk3 #kk1 #kk #karate kid #karate kid imagine #karate kid 1 #karate kid 3

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idontlikeem · 2 years

Text

i'm grieving. if you are not in a place to read that grief, or to read how i'm choosing to process this loss and the possibilities for the future out loud, do not click 'keep reading'. i'm also not in the mood to be talked down or talked out of my feelings so please don't do that either.

if you want to vagueblog about me and say shitty things about my thoughts or what i have to say here, i guess feel free. you've been doing it all season, why stop now. whatever makes you feel better. do know that i see your posts, though. i know they're about me, and i think it's sad and unkind. i wish you happiness, and hope you can approach the offseason and next year with less vitriol and unkindness in your heart.

it is insane to me that this series went to seven games. it wasn't supposed to.

the rangers were supposed to steamroll us. people were going as far as saying it would be a sweep, and tbh as the regular season limped to a close i could kind of see it.

but on the other hand...

it is insane to me that this series went to seven games. it wasn't supposed to.

we had a 3-1 series lead and a 2-0 lead in game five. it doesn't matter that sid had to leave the game; it was late in the second and we blew it. same in game six. we had a lead with five minutes remaining in game seven, too.

so. what does that all mean? how am i actually feeling about this series?

we came into the series with our backup goalie in net, and he pushed us all the way through until he couldn't. we then rode a third-string AHL guy until the very last game, and as good of a story as he was, as much as he did his best to step up, he's not in the NHL for a reason. he let in many many goals that neither tristan nor casey would have allowed in.

we also lost half of our top d-pair and had two top-six wingers missing at various points. we lost our captain and the best player in the world for a game and a half. one player is incredibly injured and still battled through it (jason zucker, i love you, do not do this again, i want you to have a healthy season please).

and yet. and yet.

how did we push it to seven? how did they beat us?

simply put, they couldn't. their all-world goalie faltered and the only way they could avoid being eliminated in 5 was by literal headhunting. literally hitting to injure.

it's disgusting and it's a horrible way to see a season end. to know that, once again, they thoroughly outplayed the opponent, and lost because of...goaltending, really, and bad bounces. THREE own goals off mike matheson's skates. what are the fucking odds.

i'm not going to complain about the reffing here, not really. it's flawed. it's ALWAYS flawed. they aren't biased and it's not rigged, they're just fucking awful at their jobs, all the time, every game, every single shift they are bad at their jobs. so that's that.

i made a post near the the start of the season that i didn't care if we didn't make the playoffs this season as long as geno and kris were signed for next year. we started out rocky with our top two centers missing for significant stretches, and we got hit hard with covid. every team had covid issues this year but think back to october and november- we basically didn't have a team. AND we had injuries and LTIR on top of that.

that's still true. a first-round loss that shouldn't have been, for the second year in a row, stings. five first-round losses in a row also stings. we're better than that. we just couldn't get past it. and it sucks sucks sucks to know that there were things out of our control that made this happen.

but oh, wow, what a 16 years it's been. playoffs every season? four trips to the finals, and three cups? the fact that five years of mild underachieving after that is something that's got people suggesting we burn the whole organization down is really...we are blessed. we are spoiled. we are lucky.

sidney crosby is the greatest hockey player of his generation, and top five all-time. an argument could be made for top three. evgeni malkin is a generational talent who put the team and playing with sid above himself time and again, year after year. kris letang is a franchise defenseman who puts it all out on the line every shift, every game, for this team.

we are so lucky to have them.

and so here's where we get to the source of my grief, the reason this is actually harder than last year even though us even taking it to seven games was unexpected when the postseason started:

we might not have them next season.

it's unfathomable to me to imagine sid and geno playing on different teams. unfathomable. it is insane to me that ownership, both old and new, let geno go this long without signing him, that they're doing him the disrespect of not accommodating his desire to play a few more years with sid. this is the second face of the franchise that's being treated this way. it's disrespect, plain and simple.

geno is my favorite hockey player of all time. i love sid so so much and i love watching him and i'll be distraught when he retires, but geno...man. man. that's my guy. he's been my guy since 2009 and ohh boy, the idea of him not getting to finish his career where he wants, with who he wants...it sucks. it sucks a LOT. the lack of value and care this franchise is extending to him, after everything, after battling to come back, after playing his ass off and constantly being the whipping boy for the team...and he took it, because he wanted to play with sid, on this team. this is where he wants to be.

i think about the years that sid was hurt, the times that geno put the team on his back and carried them through when sid couldn't. i think about the seasons between the cups, the hope and the heartbreak and the letdowns, and how through it all it was them.

they are the team. they are the pittsburgh penguins.

i honestly don't know what i'll do if geno is playing for a different team next season. i hope he doesn't. i also hope he doesn't have to settle for a contract here that's significantly less than he deserves, in both term and dollars. that would be a blow to his pride and it's not something he deserves. a pay cut, yes—he's not the player he was, he knows it, he's willing to take less. but an insultingly low amount? not at least giving him through the end of sid's contract? i dunno. that will hurt too.

i don't want sid to be left alone on this team in the last years of his career. he doesn't want to be left alone either.

for the love of god, FSG and hextall, get geno extended. give him through the end of sid's current contract.

you owe him that. show some goddamn loyalty. prove that my team isn't going to turn into a soulless corporate hellscape.

god. i'm so upset. i haven't been this upset about a penguins playoff loss since 2018.

#personal

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zainclaw · 3 years

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Hello. I am a new symbrock shipper and i really appreciate your posts of the excerpts from the comics. But i was wondering which part of the comic people said the writer (the cates one) erased some kind of part about the eddie & venom? It gets me curious somehow and was wondering if you knew about this.

...I’ve actually been expecting someone to ask me about this, sooner or later. Kinda been dreading it, tbh XD But here goes.

(This is quite a long and serious answer, and I totally get if not everyone wanna read this, but as more and more people are becoming interested in the Venom comics, I do think this is an important thing to address.)

This is also a conversation about fandom.

*deep breath*

First of all. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and just like some people might be upset with the writers of a tv-show when things take a turn they don't agree with, some people are upset with the changes Donny Cates did when he took over the Venom comics after Mike Costa. Yes.

But here’s the thing:

The Venom comics have had many writers (and artists) over the years. I mean, jesus christ, the Venom symbiote’s very first appearance was back in 1988. That’s over 30 fucking years ago, people. At this point, I don’t think it’s realistic to expect the feel of the story to be the same under every single writer that comes on. I just don’t.

In 1996 Len Kaminski gave us Eddie and his symbiote holding hands and giving each other chocolate gifts with love hearts and the line “it’s not human, but it’s given me things no girlfriend ever could” in The Hunger. Then, 20 years later, in 2017-2018, we had Mike Costa give us Eddie calling the symbiote ‘my love’ and ‘dear’ and ‘darling’ and refer to their partnership as a relationship and finally made them have a baby together in First Host.

(I strongly recommend using my masterlist of comics excerpts as a timeline here to understand what the hell I’m talking about.)

Sure, Cates hasn’t had Eddie calling the symbiote ‘my love’ or ‘darling’ since he took over. I guess you could say he “removed” that. Do I miss that part? Yeah. Of course. But as far as I know, no one had Eddie and the symbiote hold hands again in the 20 years following The Hunger, either. Different writers have told different stories, chose to focus on different things.

Cates chose to go down a very angsty route. To, for example, bring back the topic of the Venom symbiote having a past with Flash Thompson, of sometimes wanting to be with him more than Eddie, and feeling torn about who to choose, and Eddie’s pain and jealousy over that. This is something Mike Costa barely touched on during his run. Costa wanted domestic bliss, so that’s what he did. But that doesn’t remove past canon. Not for him, or anyone else.

I’ve said this before - have basically warned people who’ve come to me saying they wanna start reading the comics because of my excerpts - but the comics are fucking angsty. There’s a reason I’ve made a point of posting Symbrock highlights from the comics, rather than just say “read the comics, they’re just never-ending domestic Symbrock bliss” because they’re not.

Eddie Brock is not a happy man, and his relationship with the Venom symbiote has been obsessive, possessive and unhealthy at times. They have grown a lot and come a long way over the years, but this has always been a part of their canon. Eddie’s fear of being alone, of being the symbiote’s second choice.

This side of them is part of why I, personally, find their relationship so intriguing. How they can’t stay away from each other, even though they're both so flawed and not always good “people”, and don’t really know how to keep their relationship healthy.

And I think Cates must have felt the same way, because he’s chose to dive into Eddie as his own person. He’s made Eddie face his demons, his past, deal with his fear of being alone and do a lot of growing in ways I haven’t seen him do in any previous comics. He wanted to tell the story of Eddie Brock, to perhaps let him become a better person than he was, in order to make the relationship between him and the Venom symbiote better. And in my personal opinion, he’s doing a great job of that.

I’m very much against the “fandom hive mind” thing, and the thought of new people entering the Venom/Symbrock fandom and simply adopting the “we hate Donny Cates, he ruined the comics” mentality because they see so many other shippers feel that way, is so upsetting to me. I don’t like how entitled fans can become at times.

(I don’t know how many people who still follow me from my Teen Wolf days, but, damn, I’m embarrassed about a lot of stuff that went down between that fandom and the show runners/actors. It was a silly teenage show on MTV, and yet so many adults (myself included) thought they should have a say in where the story went, and not. It took me a long time to realize that, but there it is.)

Donny Cates did NOT deserve the hate he got from so many Symbrock shippers back in 2018. He’s NOT unfaithful to the story of Venom as a whole, and has NOT ignored previous canon. He openly spoke to and supported the Symbrock shippers on Twitter, before they tore him to pieces for not being Mike Costa. For, in their opinion, completely ignoring the loving nature of their relationship.

But like?

Cates is the one who gave us the Venom symbiote’s first “I love you, Eddie”. Cates is the one who gave us Eddie getting phantom limb syndrome from being apart from the symbiote. Cates is the only one, in my opinion, who’s given us SO many beautifully heartbreaking inner dialogues from Eddie like that about love and loss and longing, all referring to the Venom symbiote. Cates is the one who gave us the exchange “You found me” / “Always” that I’m still crying about.

My point being: I don’t think it’s fair at all to say that Cates has ignored the intimate relationship between Eddie and the symbiote. Because he hasn’t.

And it wouldn’t surprise me if, one day, when the Venom comics get a writer who actually doesn’t treat Eddie and the symbiote like romantic partners, people will look back on previous runs and say “wow I miss what Cates did.”

But,

I’m not here to convince anyone that Cates’ run is better than, or even as good as, Costa’s. I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to love every Venom comic that’s come out in the past 30 years written by several different writers. That’s unrealistic. You’re allowed to have a favorite Venom writer. You’re allowed to think that where Mike Costa’s comics ended, Eddie and the Venom symbiote’s story ended, for you. You’re also allowed to, like me, enjoy the angsty and slow burn story currently being told by Donny Cates.

You don’t have to hate Cates just because you’re a Symbrock shipper.

That’s all I wanted to say, more or less.

#symbrock #venom #idk how to tag #mike costa #donny cates #venom comics #venom comic #eddie brock

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emerald-chaos · 3 years

Text

Already Gone

**gif not mine, credit to the owner below!!**

Oh hohohohoho besties. You are in for it on this one. The other night I had an idea that popped into my head and to say I got carried away with it would be a gross understatement. This is the first time I've written smut in forever so bear with me as I get back in to it. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, please feel free to send feedback!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k (oops)

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), language, ANGST (holy shit is there angst), fingering, unprotected sex (please be smarter than these two), infidelity, and I think that's about it? Please let me know if I left something off.

A/N: Thanks to my sweet, sweet friend who read through this for me and helped me fix a few things. Also I take the, MINORS DNI, warning very seriously, so please only interact if you are of age. Please have your age in your bio so I can confirm. By clicking "read more" you agree to this. I really don't want to have to block people.

The cacophonous trill of shattering glass erupted through the space. Raised voices, thick with rage, echoed off the walls. It was difficult to tell which words were coming from which mouth, the both of you overlapping as you spewed out hatred toward one another.

“What in God’s name is going on here?!” Steve shouted as he entered the room, coming back from a late night run at the most inopportune time.

“Stay the fuck out of it!” Your two voices shrilled together as you both pointed toward Steve.

You could feel your chest heaving and it almost felt as though you were foaming at the mouth. Rage was completely consuming every crevice of your body and spilling out into your actions and your words. You turned back to the object of your aggression and watched as he ran a hand through his hair and turned to walk away from you.

“You’re nothing but a coward, James Barnes. A goddamn selfish, son-of-a-bitch, coward!” You screamed with every ounce of energy you had left in your body.

The two of you had some knock-down drag-outs in your past, but it was nothing compared to this. Months of pent up feelings, insecurities, jealousies, and secrets were all coming to a head at this very moment. The last few months the two of you had been incredibly short with one another - a stark contrast from your usual loving tone. Passionate kisses became brief pecks to the cheek, midnight roaming hands became backs set to one another, and ‘i love you’s’ felt more like a habit than a genuine feeling. In your heart you feared it would come to this one day. No matter how hard you tried, how much you wanted to, you were never going to be able to fix what had been done to the man you loved. There was no amount of love in the world that could reverse the tragedy of the Winter Soldier - at least that’s what you were convinced of now.

The man in front of you turned and strode across the room, minimizing the space between the two of you. His metal hand in a fist as he brought it up to jab a finger into the middle of your chest. Pupils were blown wide, what was once a lustful look was now filled with only pure anger. As he opened his mouth to speak, spit flew into your face.

“And you are a self-righteous, ignorant, self-important bitch!”

As your eyes raked over the contorted facial features of the man standing in front of you, you realized you couldn’t recognize them. The man standing in front of you was not Bucky. It was not the man who twirled a strand of your hair when he sat with his arm behind your chair, not the man who pulled over the car to help a turtle cross the road, and definitely not the man who held you in his arms as he cried after a nightmare. The man standing in front of you was a frightening enigma of hatred and rage. This was not your Bucky. In fact, you were almost certain you lost your Bucky months ago.

* * *

You hadn’t noticed the bouncing of your knee until the man who sat beside you gently cupped it with his hand, stilling your nervous movements. It was enough to break you from your thoughts as you turned your head to meet his kind eyes.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll have them turn the car around and we’ll go back to the airport. We catch the next flight back home.” He whispered in reassurance. Even though your mind was anxiously racing, you couldn’t help but smile at the compassionate gesture.

“Of course we do,” you started, cupping his cheek with your hand as the sunlight glinted off your pristine wedding ring, “Tony was one of the most important people in my life. Plus, I’m pretty sure he would haunt me if I didn’t go to his funeral.”

8 years ago you promised yourself in the taxi ride to the airport that you would never step foot in this place again. That all changed when you got the news of Tony’s death. Your time working with the Avengers was a life-changing experience and it was all thanks to Tony. The memory of him seeking you out to work alongside Dr. Banner in the research lab was one that you could never forget. Tony was an arrogant, pompous asshole but he was undeniably a good man. You would curse yourself for the rest of your days if you let your own baggage get in the way of that.

“Alright,” your husband responded with a sigh as he squeezed your knee, “But please, promise you’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Promise.” An agreement that you sealed with a kiss.

Mike was a good man, he was someone who cared for you deeply and who made you feel safe. After your transfer to the DC Shield Office, you had sworn off any more office romances. Those never ended well. That was until your path crossed with Mike. From the beginning of the relationship, you were upfront about your past issues with relationships and how you weren’t ready to dive into anything and he simply stated that he was okay with that, that he would wait.

The marriage was a happy one, Mike always playing the role of doting, caring husband. No matter how much you pushed back against him, he was always willing to give you space and to let you feel what you were experiencing. Mike was a good man. But he wasn’t him.

Your gaze left his as your eyes returned to the skyline, the familiar pressure clawing its way back to your chest. It’d been 8 years since you saw him. 8 years since you packed your bags and left the only home you’d ever truly known. Sure, you had this new life - a new husband, new friends, new job with similar duties, but there was still a piece of you that was missing. A piece you knew could never possibly be filled again. You had come to terms with that, slowly, but it had happened eventually. Now that you were back, you knew you were going to have to see him again - see all of them again. While a lot of good memories resided within this area, there was a hell of a lot of pain that went along with it. All you could do in that moment was remind yourself that you were here for Tony - to honor his memory and pay your respects. You didn’t owe anything else to anyone else. Something in your chest, however, told you that wouldn’t be the way things played out.

* * *

The service was beautifully executed. It was obvious that Pepper had poured her heart and soul into ensuring that Tony Stark was remembered as he should have been. The walls of your heart tightened as you saw Pepper clutching their young daughter to her side. Although Tony had made a lot of mistakes in his life, he spent his last years making sure to do good and to make things right. While it felt like a hot knife had been stabbed into your chest as you said goodbye to a once dear friend, you took solace in knowing that Tony was so loved by so many. That his legacy would live on in so many different ways. And that Pepper was there to say goodbye.

It had been your plan to attend the service and then leave immediately after it had ended. Of course, life has a funny way of never doing quite what we want it to.

It was Sam who stopped you first, pulling you into a tight hug against his form as your fingers gripped his jacket. Sam, being the angel he was, never once mentioned anything from the past and instead expressed his happiness with seeing you again and learning that you were doing well. The one thing Sam was not good at however, was keeping his mouth shut. Word quickly traveled through the crowd of your attendance and one by one old friends began to find you. Wanda didn’t have much to say but kept you in a grateful embrace while you expressed your condolences for Vision. In a shocking turn of events, It was actually Peter who was the most difficult to see. The once bright, happy-go-lucky, smiling boy was visibly devastated - heavy dark bags lingered under his eyes and his glow had been severely dimmed by the loss of his mentor. You couldn’t help but cry as you held him in your arms, expressing to him how proud of him Tony was and how he’d told you just that on several occasions.

After the hellos, the hugs, and the reminiscing you had told yourself that was it, that you were going to leave. It was then that Pepper stopped you with a soft hand on your shoulder, a kind smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and a warm embrace. After a pause of silence, she pulled away and invited you and Mike to stay for the gathering that had been planned following the service. Your mind screamed at you, begging you to politely decline - tell her you had to get back to DC, that you had a flight already booked that you couldn’t miss, that you had important business to get back to.

“Of course, Pepper. We’d love to.”

* * *

The gathering was exactly what Tony would have wanted. It was family and friends gathered around eating and drinking, but most of all - it was a bunch of people talking about Tony Stark.

You told Mike before the two of you arrived that you would stay for 20 minutes tops. That it simply would be out of respect for Pepper and once you felt your presence had been noted that the two of you would slip out unnoticed in the sea of people.

That was 2 hours ago.

Laughs came easy, tears flowed frequently, and stories were shared amongst friends. Surprising to you, it felt good to be around these people again. A familiar pang of home would hit you every now and again as you reconnected with those who you hadn’t seen in years. You introduced Mike to your old friends, who welcomed him warmly and with open arms. What you had thought would be a stressful, gut-wrenching day had actually turned out to be a joyful celebration of life. The day had been progressing smoothly and you wanted to chastise yourself for being so pessimistic.

That was, until you saw him.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of a black bomber jacket, long chestnut hair falling onto his shoulders, and a familiar collection of facial hair decorating the lower half of his face. He looked as terrible as you felt at the beginning of the day. Dark circles had only grown more prominent beneath his beautiful blue eyes and the corners of his lips were drawn down in a permanent frown. You couldn’t help but notice that he’d lost a considerable amount of weight. The once broad, thick man was now far more lean and toned than you ever remember him being.

A breath caught in your throat as the cerulean eyes met yours. Unable to stop yourself, you shoved your drink into Mike’s chest and hurried off to the nearest bathroom. Barely making it in time, you emptied your day’s stomach contents into the toilet. Breathing heavily, you fought back sobs as they threatened to leave your throat. To anyone else, it may seem you were simply grieving the loss of your friend, perhaps taking it harder than most. Oh how you wish that were the case.

You knew it would be difficult to see him again, but you didn’t expect it to feel as though someone had set your entire body ablaze. The heavy feeling of grief, anxiety, and stress from the beginning of the day was crushing your lungs, your stomach still trying to lurch although it had nothing left to give up, and tears burned the rims of your eyes. As you cleaned yourself up and flushed the toilet, you exited the stall to wash your hands and rinse your mouth. You tried to convince yourself it was the entire day's worth of emotions that had led you to this moment. That man no longer had this kind of hold on you - you had moved on. Or, so you thought.

Slowly, your gaze met your reflection in the mirror. The woman there looked worn and tired, like she had been fighting a raging war that she had been losing miserably. Mascara had begun to run down the apples of her cheeks and lipstick was smeared across her mouth. A heavy sigh left your lips as you did your best to make yourself more presentable. A shaky hand entered your clutch as you retrieved your lipstick and applied another layer. You gave yourself a final once-over and decided that your current appearance was as good as it was going to get. Just as you were going to turn around and return to the party there was movement in the mirror that caught your eye. The door was being pushed open from the outside. You turned to protest, to let the intruder know that the bathroom was occupied.

“Excuse me, sorry, there’s someone--”

It felt as though all the air had been taken from your lungs and your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as you came face to face with the man you had tried so hard, for so long, to forget. It was as though you were frozen in time, as if he were Medusa - turning you instantly to stone. Logically, the thing to do would be to tell him to get out or for you to leave the bathroom so that he could occupy the space alone. However, all you could do was stand and watch as he closed the bathroom door behind him, as his fingers closed around the lock and clicked it into place.

Then it was just the two of you. Bodies unmoving, aside from the rapid rise and fall of your chests in tandem. The air felt 100 degrees warmer than it had when you were alone. The silence, paired with the thump of your heartbeat, was deafening to your ears. You were hyper-aware of his gaze as he studied you the way you had him not minutes before. His eyes finally met yours once more and there was a poignant silence before he finally spoke.

“Can’t believe you still have that dress.”

Your eyes blinked a few times, brain trying to process his words and the situation you had currently found yourself to be in. You looked down to the front of your dress and smoothed your hands down it. How could you have gone the whole day without realizing that the dress you were wearing had been a gift from Bucky on your first anniversary? You were positive you had rid yourself of anything even remotely related to him. In fact, you distinctly recall dumping a box of momentos into a barrel and tossing a lit match inside. You don’t remember making the conscious decision to keep the dress, or why you would have made the decision. Now here you were - mere feet away from the man who had put it on and so delicately took it off of you many times.

“S’perfectly good dress. Shouldn’t go to waste.” Was all you could muster as a response in that moment.

The man before you took a step forward and you took a step back, hips coming into contact with the cold marble counter of the sink.

“Thought I’d never see you again. Y’look...different.” His gaze roaming its way down your body once more.

As his eyes landed on the diamond ring nestled onto the 4th finger of your left hand, you felt a lump begin to form in your throat.

“Congratulations.” His words were cold. Inauthentic. “He’s a lucky guy.”

“What the fuck are you doing in here, James?” The words were supposed to be sharp, but instead came out shaky and insecure.

“Saw you out there, starin’ at me. Guess I just wanted a closer look at you.”

By the end of the sentence he had closed the gap between the two of you even more, chests threatening to bump one another. His metal hand slowly reached forward and brushed a piece of hair off your shoulder. The cool appendage felt like fire against your skin and you know he heard the way you sharply inhaled, but you just couldn’t help it. You swallowed hard, head reeling and knees trying to buckle beneath you when you felt his cool palm cup your fiery cheek. It took everything in your body to avert your eyes from him, especially when you felt him even closer than before - warm breath fanning the expanse of your face. Why was he doing this? What was he going to accomplish? The fight or flight response in your body was screaming at you to push him away and run, but you didn’t.

“I’ve thought about you every day since you left, sweets. There’s not a moment that passes by where you’re not on my mind.”

Your eyes closed tightly, tears now welling up and spilling over.

“Everything you said about me that night was true. I am a coward. A coward who lost the best fuckin’ thing that ever happened to his sorry, broken ass.”

A small sob escaped your chest as your hand flew to your mouth, failing to keep it from tumbling out. Bucky found a loose thread and was slowly unraveling everything you’d worked toward in the last 8 years, every step toward progress and peace that you had worked so hard to find.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, doll” Bucky was now fully cupping your face with his large, calloused hands, “I’m so sorry that you fell in love with someone like me - a broken son of a bitch who never got put back together. I’m sorry that I hurt you so badly. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you the way I promised I would. I’m sorry that -”

In a moment of weakness, before he could finish his sentence, you were crashing your lips to his. There was nothing else that existed in your world - there was only you and there was only Bucky. Seemingly moving on their own accord, your hands found their way into his hair, grasping wildly for something to hold on to. As your fingers tugged on his roots, Bucky let out a deep moan into the kiss, sending a shiver down your spine.

The kiss was sloppy and desperate, all tongue and teeth. It was a balance of dominance between the two of you - although you were the one who initiated the kiss, Bucky was the first one to gain access to the inside of your mouth, and you were the first to tug his lower lip between your teeth. A pathetic mewl left your lips as Bucky’s mouth began trailing wet kisses across your jaw and down the column of your throat. The heartbeat in your ears from earlier was much worse now, making your head throb in pain. Every nerve ending in your body felt as though it was on fire and a small voice in the back of your head kept pleading with you to stop. For a moment you entertained the idea of shoving him off and telling him to fuck off, but that was before he started sucking that spot on your neck that he knew drove you mad. It was your turn to moan this time as you involuntarily arched your back, pressing yourself up against his firm torso.

You knew the way that you were tugging on the strands of his hair had to be incredibly painful but it only seemed to urge Bucky to continue. A soft gasp tumbled past your lips as you felt Bucky’s thigh push against your aching core. The sensation had you digging your fingernails into the back of his jacket as you finally released your grip on his hair. Before you could stop yourself, you could feel your hips grinding yourself down against his clothed thigh. Your dress had been pushed up around your waist, now only a small piece of cloth covering you as you desperately chased a high.

“I shoulda never let you go. Shoulda been at the airport to stop you before you got on that plane.”

His teeth sunk into your pulse point once more, earning himself another moan from your lips. The sting was soon replaced with the cool sensation of his tongue tracing the marks he had left.

“I love you, doll. I haven’t ever stopped lovin’ you.”

“Show me,” you whimpered pathetically against his shoulder, “show me you love me, Bucky. Please.”

An audible breath caught in his throat as he pulled himself back to look at you. Your chest was heaving, make-up smeared once more, and your pupils were blown wide with lust. You obviously weren’t able to see the look you gave him, but judging by the way he looked back at you it was fair to say you looked broken, pathetic, and desperate for him. The eyes looking back at you had the softness to them that you remember, the strokes of his hands against your body contained the passion that you’d so been longing for, and the tone in his voice told you that he was desperate for you too.

Within seconds your feet were lifted from the ground and your ass made contact with the cold, wet countertop. There wasn’t a lot of room, objects were scattered onto the floor and others were left to push into your hips with aggressive force, but you just didn’t care. It was impossible to care when Bucky moved your knees apart and dragged a finger along your clothed pussy. The sensation made your head fall back against the mirror with a hard thud but you couldn’t feel any of the pain from it at all. The only thing you felt was the way electricity rippled through your body when he used his thumb to apply pressure to your aching clit. Bucky groaned and rested his forehead against yours, lips slightly parted as he felt your need for him growing.

“So wet for me, just like I remember. Lemme make you feel good, sweets, hmm?” He had leaned forward to whisper softly in your ear as his teeth grazed your lobe.

It was you who reached down and shoved your panties down your thighs, meeting a surprised look from Bucky as he helped you drag them down to hang around your ankle. Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he hooked his hands underneath your knees to spread your legs open for him. Another groan came from him, this time more guttural than the last. You felt small underneath his gaze and the cool air in the bathroom brushing across your soaking core made you shiver.

Your hand flew to your mouth to suppress the noises you made as his finger slipped through your folds, running up and down to collect your wetness.

“More. God. Please, Buck. Need more.” You whined, attempting to roll your hips against his hand to find any form of friction that you could.

“Anything for you, baby.” He whispered as he gently inserted a finger inside of you. The two of you moaned in tandem.

There was a brief moment of embarrassment with the way your walls immediately clenched around his finger and the way his finger immediately found that soft spot. It was shortly replaced with a feeling of ecstasy. Bucky captured your lips with his to swallow your moans as he added another finger. The way his fingers were curling and pumping inside of you already had you close to the edge. Bucky pulled back and held your gaze as he added pressure to your clit with his thumb, circling the area as his fingers continued to repeatedly hit that spot inside of you.

“Please, please don’t stop.” You begged as you felt the pressure building within the lower part of your body.

“S’okay. I’m right here.” Bucky’s other hand was cradling the back of your head as he whispered to you. “I know you’re close. Can feel you squeezin’ me. You can let go for me, I got you.”

As your eyes met his, foreheads pressed together, you finally came apart. The white hot sensation tears through you as your legs quake. You squeeze your eyes shut and allow Bucky to help you ride through your orgasm as he peppers light kisses along your neck.

“I almost forgot how pretty you look when you cum.”

You whine at the emptiness and loss of contact when Bucky removes his fingers from your center. As your eyes flutter open you see him push the fingers into his mouth and suck them clean. The look on his face was euphoric.

“God. Almost forgot how fuckin’ sweet you taste too.”

Mustering up all the strength you had, you sat up and pulled him closer by his belt. The two of you worked together to rid him of his pants and boxers. Your hand wrapped around him, thumb swiping the red tip and using the pre-cum to help lubricate as you pumped your hand down his length. Bucky’s jaw clenched as he moaned at the sensation. Just as you were going to leave the counter, you felt his hands grabbing your shoulders and halting your movements.

“Maybe a different time, sweets. But right now I gotta be inside you.”

You caught your bottom lip as you nodded and released your hold on him. Bucky’s hands wrapped around your thighs as he pulled your hips to the edge of the sink. The metal hand left your thigh as he grabbed himself at the base and pushed his length through your folds. The two of you once more shared a moan at the sensation. As he lined himself up with your entrance, your hands wrapped around his neck to pull him in for another kiss. The next thing you felt was the familiar sting of his cock stretching your walls as he slid into you. Your lips left his and your forehead found itself pressed against his once more. Both of you panting heavily as neither of you dared to speak a word.

Following a moment of silence, allowing your body time to stretch to accommodate him, you nodded slowly as to signal to him that it would be okay for him to move. His thrusts were slow and calculated at first, as if he was attempting to regain his memory of your body - one that he once knew so well. You couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his shoulder as you held on to him for dear life, subconsciously afraid that if you were to let go of him he’d be gone again forever.

“Faster, Bucky. Please.” You whimpered into his ear as you took his earlobe between your teeth and nibbled softly.

A low growl left his chest as he grabbed your hips and lifted you off the counter, moving slightly so that he could cage your body against the wall. You wrapped your legs firmly around his waist, locking them at the ankle. His thrusts became faster, deeper, and it was apparent he had gained his confidence back.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. Just the way I remember.” He grunted as he dug his fingers harder into your hips.

His lips were on yours again, this time tears were starting to decorate the corners of your eyes. The pleasure, the regret, the passion, the guilt - every feeling was building up along with your orgasm. Bucky pulled away from the kiss to tap on your bottom lip with two of his fingers, which you greedily accepted into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his digits until he pulled them out and used them to circle your clit. The added pleasure was almost too much to handle.

“C’mon, baby. Wanna cum with you. Can you do that for me, huh?” Bucky whimpered, his thrusts beginning to falter from the calculated snaps he was giving you before.

All you could do was nod your head quickly as the pressure steadily increased, bringing you to the brink of your second orgasm.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much, oh my god.” Bucky grunted as the two of you reached your peak together.

You leaned forward to bite down on his shoulder and suppress the scream that left your mouth as pleasure erupted through your body. The two of you assisted each other through the high of your release and you felt your ass make contact with the cool countertop once more.

The only noise present in the space was your heavy breathing and a small dripping noise that came from the sink. Bucky’s final words before he came replayed in your head over and over again as you attempted to slow your breathing and bring yourself back down to earth. Your body shuttered slightly as Bucky slipped himself out of you. As you sat up, you noticed he was looking around the bathroom.

“Shit, sweets. I don’t think there’s anything I can use to help clean you up.” He sighed and turned to meet your gaze that was locked upon him.

“It’s fine, Buck. Not a big deal.”

Bucky bent over and helped you pull your panties back on before he redressed himself. Neither of you spoke for what felt like eternity.

“I-...” You muttered finally, “I love you too, Buck. I thought I was over you, I thought I moved on but...I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you no matter how hard I try.”

Bucky reached out to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand as he listened to you lament to him. His eyes were soft and caring and you could almost swear he was looking into the depths of your soul.

“I think —“

Your conversation was cut short by the sound of knocking at the bathroom door.

“Hey, are you okay in there? Do you need anything?” Mike’s voice had your entire body flooded with the shame of your infidelity. In one swift movement, you were on the floor and turning the sink on to make it appear you were just washing your hands.

“Y-yeah I’m fine! Just finishing up! I’ll find you out there in a minute!” You squeaked.

Mike seemed to pause for a moment before you heard his footsteps retreat from the bathroom door. A wave of relief washed over you, but it was only temporary. As soon as you were relaxed the gravity of the situation you were in was clouding you once more.

“I have to go. I can’t give him any reason to think he needs to come in here.” Bucky nodded, eyes not leaving yours as you spoke while collecting yourself, “but we need to..we should..we have to address this. Later.”

“I agree.”

“Our flight leaves tomorrow night. I’ll...see what I can come up with as far as an excuse. Then we can put this to bed for good.”

“Absolutely, sweets.”

The nickname made your knees buckle once more as you sighed.

“Goodbye, James.”

You finally tore your eyes from his as you unlocked the door and slipped out of the bathroom. In reality, however, you knew this really wasn’t goodbye. Not even close.

273 notes · View notes

blackspoon99 · 3 years

Text

The Sign of Three Pt. 2

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: Mention of Blood and Near Death, Spoilers to Season 3!

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

You took your seat at the head table and found yourself relieved that you were sat in between Janine and Sherlock. You felt immediate guilt at that thought. Dinner was slightly tense and awkward. Possibly only for you. For the most part, you made small talk with Janine while Sherlock read over his stack of index cards. Little boughs of anxiety kept creeping in the back of your mind as you replayed Sherlock and Janine’s conversation over and over. You peeked over at Sherlock to your right and took a healthy sip of champagne. You decided you would try your best to be present. This day wasn’t about you, after all. Your attention was pulled to the center of the room when a waiter tapped a spoon against a champagne glass.

“Pray silence for the best man”

This was it. You can do it, Sherlock. You watched Sherlock rise from his seat and stiffly fasten one of the buttons on his blazer. He looked unbelievably uncomfortable. You smiled when you noticed Sherlock adjusting the flower you placed in his blazer pocket. The wedding guests applauded and waited for Sherlock to begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends ... and ... erm ... others.” Sherlock blinked several times.

“Er ... w...” Another awkward pause. “…Also”

You looked over at John then at Molly and Greg. They wore the same concerned look on their faces.

“Telegrams” John whispered to Sherlock

“Right, uhm…” Sherlock patted the pockets of his blazer and pants then finally noticed them on the table near his place setting. “First things first. Telegrams.” He lifted up the pile and inspected the first one. “Well, they’re not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I don’t know why. Wedding tradition,” Sherlock muttered quickly. “Because we don’t have enough of that already, apparently.”

You saw John narrow his eyes and turn to Mary. You nervously looked down at your hands in your lap. Sherlock read the first note.

“To Mr. and Mrs. Watson. So sorry I’m unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stamford.”

“Oh, Mike,” John said, smiling.

“To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big ...” Sherlock paused and suddenly looked like he had swallowed a lemon. “... big squishy cuddles, from Stella and Ted.” He looked up at the ceiling, blinking repeatedly again. You tried to suppress your laughter. “Mary – lots of love, ...” Yet another pause. “…Poppet” He finished, popping the “t” at the end. Mary snickered.

Sherlock straightened his back and took the next card. “Don’t bugger it up, Sher—” he abruptly cleared his throat and looked straight at you. You tried to hide your laughter. He’d finally gotten to the note you slipped in with the telegrams. Everyone would have heard it was actually quite a nice note if Sherlock had read the entire thing out loud. It read: Don’t bugger it up, Sherlock. Only kidding. You’re doing great. X, y/n.

“Um, special day” Sherlock threw a telegram over his shoulder. “Very special day” He then proceeded to toss each telegram straight behind him. “Love, love, love, love. Bit of a theme – you get the general gist. People are basically fond.” The wedding guests laughed, interpreting it as a joke. Sherlock looked confused, then picked up the other stack of index cards. He began to shuffle through them, clearly trying to find his place.

“Done that. ... Done that ... Done that bit ... Done that bit ... Done that bit ... Hmm ...”

You anxiously looked up at him, feeling the awkward tension in the room.

“I’m afraid, John, I can’t congratulate you.”

Your eyes snapped over to John who looked as shocked as you felt.

“All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure, cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world.”

You looked around the room at all the wedding guests as some of them began to murmur. Greg and Molly had the same horrified look on their faces. Sherlock continued on.

“Today we honor the death-watch beetle that is the doom of our society and, in time – one feels certain – our entire species.”

You placed your head in your hands. You knew you should have made Sherlock let you read over his speech. You hadn’t wanted to make him feel nervous or like you didn’t trust him.

“But anyway ... let’s talk about John.”

“Yeah, good idea” you hissed up at Sherlock. He ignored you.

“If I burden myself with a little help-mate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice – it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me.”

You heard Greg snort across the room. This was going south fast. You couldn’t believe Sherlock was insulting John on his wedding day. He must be spiraling. There had to be something you could do to save this. Fake an emergency, maybe? You could at least buy some time that way.

“Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes, in truth, from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides. It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favor exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel.”

Ouch. You tried so hard not to look at Sherlock as you felt your ears burning with embarrassment. You adverted your gaze and focused on not allowing yourself to be hurt by what he’d just said.

Somehow, Sherlock continued. “And contrast is, after all, God’s own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation ... or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot.”

Oh boy. Now Sherlock was going straight to insulting the vicar. The murmuring began to pick up again. You looked over at John, who was now hiding his face in his hands while Mary frowned.

“The point I’m trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-around obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet.”

You looked up at Sherlock in genuine surprise.

“I am dismissive of the virtuous ...” He looked to the vicar. “... unaware of the beautiful ...” Your heart stopped when he looked straight at you. Or maybe in your general direction? You looked over your shoulder at Janine, who was smiling. He could have just as easily been looking at her.

Sherlock finally turned to John and Mary “... and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn’t understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody’s best friend. Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.”

Just when you’d started to doubt him, Sherlock had surpassed all your expectations. He always managed to surprise you, every time.

“John, I am a ridiculous man ... redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But, as I’m apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion. Actually, now I can.” Sherlock turned to Mary. “Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss... so sorry again about that last one.” John laughed. Sherlock leaned back over to you and winked. You smiled and rolled your eyes.

“So know this: today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved. And I know I speak for Mary as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that.”

You found yourself fighting tears. You were not alone. “What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John?” Sherlock again looked rather confused. He turned to look at you. “Did I do it wrong?”

“Oh, Sherlock,” you said quietly.

John stood up and pulled Sherlock into a hug. The crowd applauded. “I haven’t finished yet,” Sherlock said as John released him.

“Yes, I know,” said John

“So, on to some funny stories ...” Sherlock attempted to yell over the applause.

“Can you – can you wait ’til I sit down?” John asked.

“So, on to some funny stories about John,” Sherlock continued as the noise died down. “So, for funny stories, one has to look no further than John’s blog.” Sherlock pulled out his phone. “The record of our time together. We’ve tackled some strange cases, some frustrating cases, and ‘touching’ cases. But we want something ... very particular for this special day, don’t we? The Bloody Guardsman.”

You remembered this case. It was only a few weeks ago,

You, John, Mary, and Sherlock sat in the living room of Sherlock’s flat, completely surrounded by lists, items, and menus for the wedding. You’d initially been surprised at Sherlock’s dedication to wedding planning. The back wall above the couch was a perfectly organized record of everything that needed to be done in the next few weeks down to all the potential fonts for the place cards. Sherlock had even created a to-scale model of the reception venue sometime during his fits of mania. You were no psychologist, but if you were you’d say that Sherlock’s meticulous efforts were all in an attempt to force some control into a daunting situation.

John and Mary were seated at the table near the windows looking over the bridesmaids’ dress options. Sherlock stood studying the guest list on the monstrous wall of wedding planning. You were sitting in John’s chair with your legs hanging over one of the arms, flipping through catering menus.

“Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin.” Sherlock spoke from across the room.

Mary forced a smile. “Ah, orphan’s lot. Friends – that’s all I have. Lots of friends.”

You didn’t know anything about Mary’s family except that for unknown reasons, she didn’t have one. She kept her cards so close to the vest, you doubted John knew anything either. “And your friends adore you, Mary,” you said, attempting to cheer her up.

“Schedule the organ music to begin at precisely 11:48,” Sherlock spoke over you. “Sherlock,” you groaned. He didn’t turn around from the wall and continued to fiddle with the clippings.

“Or maybe 11:55, with allowed time for delays,”

“Sherlock,” you tried again. “The rehearsal’s not for another two weeks. Just calm down”

He whipped around to face you. “Calm? I am calm. I’m extremely calm.”

“Yes, I can see that,” you said sarcastically, noting the wild look in his eyes.

“Let’s get back to the reception, come on,” Mary said from across the room, diffusing the tension. “John’s cousin. Top table?”

Sherlock rose to join John and Mary at the table. “Hmm. Hates you. Can’t even bear to think about you.”

You rolled your eyes. You tossed the catering menus to the side and walked over to the table to look over Mary’s shoulder.

“Seriously?” Mary asked, shocked

“Second class post, cheap card bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp: three attempts at licking. She’s obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.”

“Don’t worry Mary, I’ve met her and she’s the worst. Let’s stick her by the bogs,” you interjected.

“Oh yes,” Mary agreed.

“Pretending I didn’t hear that,” John said, looking down at his phone.

“Who else hates me?” Mary asked Sherlock. He turned around and handed her a handwritten list. “Oh great – thanks,” Mary said unenthusiastically.

“Priceless painting nicked. Looks interesting,” John announced. He’d been looking through inquiries for cases on the blog. It was only a little annoying that he wasn’t helping. “How about this: ‘My husband is three people’? It’s interesting. Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin.”

“Identical triplets – one in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat. Now, serviettes.” Sherlock bent down and pulled a tray out from under the coffee table that had two different elaborately folded napkins. “Swan or Sydney Opera House?”

“Wow…” you said flatly. He’s lost it. You bit your lip in concern and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Where’d you learn to do that?!” Mary asked, impressed.

“Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation ...”

“You’re lying, Sherlock,” you said, teasing.

“I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of ...”

“Sherlock, out with it.” You pressed him further.

“Okay – I learned it on YouTube.”

“Well then, Sydney Opera House, please,” Mary said with a smile.

You turned away, thinking. “Hey, Mary? Can I show you what I was thinking for my bridesmaid dress?”

“Uh, sure,” She replied.

“Great!” you said and grabbed her wrist. You pulled her into the kitchen and closed the door. “Mary, we have to do the thing. Right now.”

“Are you sure, he seems okay-ish?” She said skeptically.

“Okay-ish?! Mary, he’s watching YouTube videos on napkin folding. He’s terrified.”

“Right. You’re right. Okay, you speak with Sherlock while I get John.”

You opened the doors to the living room to see Sherlock sitting on the floor, surrounded by at least 15 napkins folded in the opera house shape.

“That just sort of ... happened,” he said dropping his hands to his side.

“Did you just do that now?” John asked, finally looking up from his phone.

“Okay. John?” Mary started. “I’m about to give Beth a call, she’ll want to talk to you as well.” Mary held her phone up and gestured to the kitchen.

“Oh Beth, that’s right. We’ve been meaning to call her.” John got up and followed her.

You walked over to Sherlock and took a seat on the floor next to him. He reached under the table for more napkins, but you caught his hand and shook your head.

“I think we have enough for now. I actually need to talk to you about something, Sherlock. I’m worried about John.” He looked over at you, listening intently. You lowered your voice and inched closer. “I think all the wedding planning is getting to him. He needs to get out for a bit, I can tell.” Sherlock nodded along with you. “I can’t say anything because he won’t listen to me. He’s just going to think I’m worrying too much. Could you please find him a case, any case? For me?”

“Yes, yes, of course. You can count on me.” Sherlock whispered. He stood up and carefully smoothed out his suit. John walked back into the room. You got up and silently joined Mary into the kitchen. A few moments later, Sherlock and John walked into the kitchen.

“Er, we’re just going to ... I need, um, Sherlock to help me choose some, er, socks.” John awkwardly fumbled over his words.

“Ties,” Sherlock interjected.

“Let’s go with socks,” Mary said.

“Could be a while,” John said. “We’ve got to make sure they match my—”

“Tie” Sherlock interrupted. John looked back at him, exasperated.

“My coat in there?” John cleared his throat. Mary nodded and John turned the corner. Sherlock leaned in and lowered his voice.

“Just going to take him out for a bit – run him.”

“Good work, Sherlock,” you said with a smile. Sherlock winked at you and walked out of the door. When they were out of sight, you turned to Mary.

“Do you fancy a drink?”

“Let’s go,” She replied.

That had been the end of your involvement in the case of the Bloody Guardsman. You had heard the rest of the story from John. Sherlock hadn’t particularly felt like sharing. Probably because he never solved it. You listened to Sherlock lay out his chosen details in his speech all the way up to Sherlock and John finding Stephen Bainbridge bleeding out in a shower in the barracks.

“Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He’d stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish – but in all of this, there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, Sherlock was challenging people to solve a case on the spot that he didn’t even figure out himself. You pitied whoever he chose to humiliate.

“Scotland Yard.” Greg looked up from his drink. “Have you got a theory?” Greg stared blankly at Sherlock. “Yeah, you. You’re a detective – broadly speaking. Got a theory?”

This was going to be bad.

“Er, um, if the, uh, if the if-if-if, if the blade was, er, propelled through the, um ... grating in the air vent ... maybe a-a ballista or a – or a – or a catapult. Erm, somebody tiny could … could crawl in there.” Molly cringed. “So, yeah, we’re loo... we’re looking for a-a-a-a dwarf.”

“Brilliant,” said Sherlock

“Really?” Greg replied immediately

“No,” Sherlock said coldly. Ruthless. Greg lowered his head back into his drink. Across the room, you saw Tom whispering something into Molly’s ear.

“Hello? Who was that?” Sherlock asked and looked around the room before settling on Tom. “Tom. Got a theory?” Tom slowly stood up across the room.

Poor Tom looked uneasy. He shifted around for a bit before reluctantly giving his opinion. “Um ... attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone that broke after piercing his abdomen ... like a meat ... dagger.”

Molly wore a look of uncomprehending embarrassment. You looked to Sherlock. He had a look on his face that was a strange mix of smugness and disbelief. “A meat dagger.” He stated.

“Yes,” Tom said, awkwardly.

“Sit down.” Molly hissed. She reached up and yanked Tom down to his seat by his sleeve.

“No,” said Sherlock plainly. “There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson: who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life.”

You smiled at John’s proud expression. So that was the point of Sherlock’s roundabout story. It surprised you because when they’d initially came home that day, all Sherlock could focus on was how the attempted murderer did it and why he couldn’t figure it out. It was nice to see he had developed a new perspective.

“The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly-planned murder – or attempted murder – I’ve ever had the pleasure to encounter; the most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware. However, I’m not just here to praise John – I’m also here to embarrass him, so let’s move on to some ...”

“No-no, wait, so how was it ... how was it done?” Lestrade interrupted.

Now Sherlock would have to admit he didn’t solve the case. You smirked. That’s what you get for insisting on embarrassing Greg and Tom.

“How was what done?” Sherlock asked, attempting to deflect

“The stabbing,” Lestrade clarified.

Sherlock looked down for a moment, then reluctantly continued. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I didn’t solve that one. That’s ... It can happen sometimes. It’s very ... very disappointing.” He looked down for a moment as if contemplating then continued. “Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night.”

A/N: So sorry this is so late! I haven’t forgotten about this series, I promise! I just moved into a new apartment in college and it’s already been nuts!

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