#i just hate to feel like maybe i wasn’t enough i guess? idk

[goldensunset]

how’s it only wednesday and it’s already been the longest toughest week in existence

[venisonpng]

i really should start having break downs on this account instead bc there r way less ppl n muts here to watch me actually lose my mind

[mystic-writings]

we’re just fine | daryl dixon

PAIRING — Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

SUMMARY — after the fall of the prison, you find yourself in alexandria, alone. two months later, your family finds their way back to you. 

WARNINGS — angst, canon-typical violence/situations, pregnancy, fluff 

WORD COUNT — 5,000

NOTES — idk what happened to me all i know is i blacked out and then this was made. enjoy i guess

masterlist | navigation | requests are open!

Despite the pure monotonous routine you’d gotten used to during your two months in Alexandria, you couldn’t say that it wasn’t sometimes extremely boring. Your only saving grace was the mealtimes you had with Aaron and Eric at the end of the day. At least they had the sense and experience outside the walls to be able to carry out a conversation that wasn’t about what food you were eating or how the weather was. 

It was why you hated when they went out on recruitment runs. As their roommate, you felt awkward being in the home by yourself when they left the walls; as though you were intruding. You felt that way in a lot of aspects. An intruder on a perfect life that these people had grown used to in the wake of the apocalypse. A life where their only worry was whether or not Aiden and Nicholas would find the right ingredients for the food they’d planned on cooking during their supply runs. 

But there was nothing to be done aside from making a meal for one, eating alone with only a soft classical music CD to fill the silence, and to wait for the couple to come back home so you would have normal people to talk to. 

You were glad for them and the runs they went on, though. Or they never would’ve found you, and you’d likely be dead in a ditch by now. 

Your hand shook as you gripped the handle of your blade, wide eyes searching the pharmacy for any signs of walkers, or people. Being on the road alone for as long as you had been was making you feel like you’d gone crazy. Maybe you had already. 

Sweeping the small aisles, you found no signs of life. Most of the shelves were already empty, likely having been raided during the early days. Still, you grabbed whatever was available to you, shoving it into your bag before ducking into a corner, knees pressed to your chest as you rooted around for one of the final few cans of food you had left. 

You’d been rationing out what used to be a plentiful supply for a few weeks now. One can of food per day, nothing more. A lot of what you had was thanks to the traffic blockages on the highways and interstates you’d wandered along on your way out of Georgia. What used to be two cans a day for almost three weeks turned into one for the past week and a half, bordering on two. 

The lack of food wasn’t your only issue anymore. With no signs of life from your former group, you had every reason to believe that they were all dead. Logically, you knew they weren’t. You’d seen some of them escape in the firefight, yourself included. But without any real way of tracking them down, they were as good as dead. Not to mention the sudden and constant fatigue that the southern sun seemed to give to you, making traveling more difficult than you had originally planned. 

Even with no end in sight, no real indicator that the man you called your husband was still alive, and no true hope for your future, you still persisted. You found places to sleep for the night, whether in abandoned cars or gas stations off of turnpikes. You found just enough food to supply you for a few more days if you managed to stretch it thin enough, and you kept going. 

Just as you were about to crack open a can of corn, the crunching of glass and shuffling of footsteps alerted you to the body that had just entered the pharmacy. Its footfalls sounded too heavy and spaced out to be anything but a human. 

Gripping onto your knife, you held your breath and gently placed the can on the floor. With your bag still on your shoulders, you kept your body crouched and your ears peeled, moving around the person — no, people — moving around the pharmacy. 

“I’m telling you, we’ve already been here. There’s nothing left to take,” a voice reasoned. 

The footsteps ceased for a moment, and you paused, praying they hadn’t heard you. “I know. Doesn’t hurt to check, though, right? I mean, we can’t exactly go back empty handed. Aiden’ll have something to say about it.”

“But we aren’t out here for supplies,” the other stressed, “we’re out here for people, remember? New members?”

“I know,” their partner chuckled, footsteps resuming as they rounded the last aisle. You ducked between the shelves closest to the door, hoping to just outrun them and not have to fight them. There was a pause, a palpable beat, before he spoke again. “But I think we might not be coming back alone.”

A cold chill ran through your veins at the former’s words. He knew you were in here. He’d seen your can of food, or heard your shuffling around the pharmacy. In an instant, you were at your full height, eyes wide as your fingers clutched your knife tighter and you ran, against your better judgment, toward the pair. The blond was the one closest to you, his back facing your front. With as much energy as you could muster, you hooked your arm over his shoulder, dragging him to your chest as you pressed your knife to his throat. It wasn’t hard enough to do any real damage, but you knew that if you absolutely had to, you’d apply pressure. 

“Who are you?” You spat, hand shaking as it gripped the knife. “What do you want?”

“Woah, woah, calm down. It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you.” The brunet immediately jumped into negotiation mode, putting his hands in front of him. The position reminded you of Rick, oddly enough, and your heart twinged as you adjusted your grip on the knife. 

“Then what are you here for?” You spat. “Like you said, there’s nothing worth taking here.”

The faintest of whimpers escaped the lips of the man you held hostage, dragging both yours and the brunet’s attention to him. “We’re just—” the blond gulped. “We’re recruiters. We have a camp not too far from here. A safe one. We’re looking for people to join us. People who have— have experience, out here.” 

His words, as stuttery and fearful as they were, confused you. 

“I’m Aaron,” the brunet said, keeping his arms up in surrender as he slowly slid the backpack from his shoulders. “That man you have is my partner, Eric. Everything he’s saying is right, and I can show you. I have pictures and a brochure in my bag, if you’ll let me get it.” 

Hesitantly, you nodded. Even if he had a weapon, most of your body was blocked by his partner — Eric. There was a highly likely chance that he wouldn’t try to harm you while you kept his friend in your grip, however weak it was becoming. 

Slowly, Aaron reached into his bag, pulling out exactly what he said he would. With Eric still in your grip, he showed you pictures of the place he and his friend called home — Alexandria. “Look,” Aaron sighed, stepping back a bit. “You seem like someone we could use. You have experience that we lack. Plus, it seems like you’ve been out here by yourself a while. We have walls, food, running water, and proper shelter. And if you decide to come with us, our leader, Deanna, will interview you. If she allows you in and you don’t like it, you can leave any time you want. We won’t keep you there if you don’t want to be, okay?”

With a shaking nod, you let go of Eric, nudging him toward Aaron, who enveloped the other man in a tight hug. “I— I can leave if I want to, right?”

“Of course, you can. No one will stop you, and that’s a promise.” 

It took a bit of getting used to, but you were glad that Aaron and Eric had found you that day. You’d been skeptical of things in Alexandria for the first few days, but you warmed to the entire situation a lot easier than you thought you would. You supposed it was because of how things were at the prison, but even then you weren’t alone.

Aaron and Eric, while not pushing the topic often, had managed to get to know enough about you and where you came from before they’d found you that they considered you a close friend. 

You’d only told them the briefest of answers. That you were with a large group in Georgia from the beginning, that you’d been with one of them for most of that time — even, at some point, considering yourselves to be married, though the symbol you’d had to show it had been lost months ago — and then another group came along and took everything away from you, simply because they could. 

The safety and privacy that the couple provided was something you were more than grateful for, even if you were sure you wouldn’t be able to have it forever. 

Because while Aaron and Eric, along with the rest of Alexandria, provided a structure and a sense of normalcy for you, you couldn’t shake the grief that fell upon you every time you were alone. 

The thought of Daryl being out there, combing every inch of Georgia for you while you were so far away, was enough to bring you to tears. It was another thing to think about the possibility of his rotting corpse roaming the woods in search of something living to eat. The thought that you’d never see him again, dead or alive. That you’d just push through life — however much longer that would be for you — without him, even though he promised you’d never have to go through something like that. 

The thought of your baby never knowing who their father was, and their father never knowing who they were, either. 

You could go an entire lifetime without ever seeing Daryl again, and the idea of it nearly killed you when he was still around. It hurt a hundred times worse now that it was practically a reality. 

The night passed without word from or the arrival of Aaron and Eric. It was common for them to be gone a while at a time — this particular trip lasting almost a week — but you hated sleeping in the house by yourself now. You were so used to waking up to Eric clattering dishes in the kitchen that waking up midday when they were gone only proved how fatigued you seemed to feel nowadays. 

Waking up to a knock on the door wasn’t unusual as of late, but it was certainly unpleasant. You were, however, grateful for the fact that when you were given a room at Aaron and Eric’s, it was on the first floor. 

Rolling out of bed got harder and harder with each passing week, but you managed it anyway. The knocking persisted, and you sighed as you made your way into the living room, shouting out, “I’m coming!”

The knocking ceased, and you pulled on the fabric of your shirt before answering the door, only to find Jessie. “Oh, hey,”

“Hi, hon,” she smiled, and you felt bad for being upset at her moments before. “Pete sent me over, said you were supposed to see him this morning?” 

“Oh, shit, Jessie I’m so sorry,” you said, brushing some stray hair from your face. “I overslept, normally Aaron—” 

Jessie smiled warmly, reaching out and putting a gentle hand on your arm. “I understand, Y/n, no need to worry. Just get dressed and head over to the infirmary. It’s not like Pete’s in any real rush.” 

“Alright,” you nodded, bidding Jessie goodbye and closing the door as she headed down the porch steps. 

Padding your way through the home, you went back to your room, pulling on some fresh clothes before freshening up in the bathroom. Routines like these were simple, but they kept you sane. You’d had something a little closer to it at the prison, but it was nowhere near as nice as it was in Alexandria. 

After eating a small breakfast, you were out of the house and on your way to the infirmary. The streets were quiet, as always, and the sun was anything but forgiving. People smiled and waved, and you did the same, even if you didn’t know half of the people in this place. Even after being here for two months, it was hard to remember such trivial things about so many people. Plus, putting names to faces was never one of your strong suits. 

Stepping into the infirmary, you were grateful for the burst of air conditioning that fell over your body. Smiling, you greeted Denise and Pete, the former of the two sitting on one of the beds as she pored over the book in her lap. 

“Alright, let’s take a look at you. Sound good?” Pete smiled, and you nodded back. 

While you hauled yourself onto the bed, Pete readied the ultrasound equipment. Pulling back the loose shirt you wore, your eyes glued themselves to the obvious, albeit still small, bump you were sporting. 

“Hey, I’m about four months along now, right?” You asked, eyes darting up to Pete, who confirmed with a nod. “That means you can see the baby’s gender, doesn’t it? I remember hearing that somewhere,” 

Pete chuckled, powering on the machine and taking the gel from its holster. “Most of the time, yes. If you want me to look around for it, I can do that. After I make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I really wanna know,” you said, wincing at the cold gel making contact with your skin. “It’d mean a lot. Then I can go full nesting mode. And so can Aaron and Eric, really.” 

The ultrasound went off without a hitch. According to Pete, your margins were clear, and everything looked healthy with the baby. It was always a relief to hear. There was little room for error with these things now that you had scarcely little supplies to work with. Finding the ultrasound machine early on in the apocalypse was a miracle in itself. 

“Okay…” Pete hummed, the wand moving and pressing over your skin. “The kid’s giving me a hard time with this one. And…” he pressed a few buttons, eyes focused on the screen before him. You watched his features intensely, as though his expression would give the answer away before he could say it. Pete’s eyes broke from the screen as he smiled, lifting the wand. “You’re having a little girl. Congratulations.” 

Your heart swelled, a wide smile overtaking your features as Pete handed you a towel. “A girl,” you whispered, eyes locked onto your belly. 

Before you were able to stop yourself, you were once more reminded of the likelihood that you’d never be able to share this with Daryl. Tears welled along your waterline as you sat up, swiping the scratchy cloth across your belly. Whether Pete noticed or not, he made no indications. You were thankful for it, and for him leaving the room to put the ultrasound equipment away. 

When he came back inside, he pulled Denise from her books and into the kitchen to talk, but you paid no mind to them. They were talking too low for you to listen in, anyway, and you were too busy trying to quell your emotions on the makeshift examination table to want to eavesdrop. 

By the time you were ready to leave, Olivia entered the infirmary, eyes scanning the room before landing on your frame. 

“Y/n, they’re on their way back,” she smiled, and you nodded gratefully. 

“They’re okay?”

The woman nodded. “Eric’s a bit banged up, hurt his leg I think, but otherwise they’re fine. And they brought a group. They should be getting here soon.” 

Exhaling a relieved breath, you slid from the bed, bidding goodbye to Denise and Pete as you followed Olivia onto the street. You walked side by side in silence, mulling over what she’d said. 

“You said they brought a group?” You asked, following Olivia up the steps to the house that held all of your inventory. “How many?”

Olivia huffed, brows cinching. “Deanna said it was a big one. That they had a lot of weapons, been on the road a while.” 

Your eyes widened. “A while as in the entire time, or?”

“Not sure,” Olivia shook her head. “All I know is I gotta get the weapons cart to the gate, if you wanna help?” 

“Sure. Should probably be there to get Eric to the infirmary, anyway,” you decided. 

And, sure enough, Aaron helping a limping, sweating Eric through the gate was the first — and for now, only — glimpses of the new group you would get. Aaron smiled apologetically as he spotted you, tucked out of view from the newcomers. 

“What the hell happened to you?” You said, looking pointedly at Eric, who grimaced as you took his arm from Aaron. 

“Roamers,” he sighed. “It’s broken, I think.” 

“You think?” You asked, eyeing the bruising flesh. “I can tell it’s broken. Come on, let’s get you to Pete.” 

Aaron thanked you as you wrapped an arm around Eric’s waist, helping him up the road and back into the infirmary. 

As Pete worked to wrap Eric’s ankle, you couldn’t help but ask questions about the trip. 

“It was a disaster,” Eric groaned. “There were roamers everywhere. Plus, this group, they’re headstrong. Been out there a while.” 

“How many of them are there?” You asked. “Olivia didn’t tell me.” 

“Fifteen,” Eric hissed, squirming as Pete positioned his ankle properly. 

Your eyes widened, throat going dry. “Jesus,” you huffed. “That many of them and they’re still going?”

“With a baby,” 

“Oh my God,” you gasped. Your mind flashed with images of baby Judith, heart clenching. The fall of the prison meant that you never found out exactly who made it out alive, and you never dared to venture the thought of whether or not she did. “They must be some lucky sons of bitches.” 

Eric laughed. “Not only are they lucky, but they’re tough. And really close. I think, once you get used to them, you’ll like them. They remind me of you when we found you.” 

“So, scrappy, hungry, and tired?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Eric laughed, and you couldn’t help but do the same. 

“If you need me, I’m four houses down.” Aaron pointed, Rick and Carl following his line of sight. “If I’m not there, Eric or Y/n probably will be.” 

Carl’s eyes snapped back to the brunet, a mixture of confusion and skepticism floating within them. “Y/n?”

Aaron’s brows furrowed at the boy. “Yeah. She’s a friend of ours, came here a few months back. Why?”

“We, uh…” Rick stepped in, a hand scratching at his beard. “We used to know someone named Y/n. that’s all.”

“Oh,” Aaron nodded, stepping away and heading back home, where you and Eric were sitting at the table, sandwiches in hand as you giggled about something he wasn’t aware of. 

Upon his entrance into the kitchen, you stood excitedly and hugged the man. “Glad you’re back okay,” you said, heading back to your chair. “I heard the group you brought was tough.”

“Yeah, they are.” Aaron chuckled, still mulling over the puzzle pieces in his head. “You said you were with a big group before, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Aaron huffed, glancing at his shoes. “I brought up your name to one of the new members — just a name, nothing else — he said they used to know someone with the same name.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, limbs freezing as you were bringing the sandwich to your mouth. Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to put the food back down, looking up at Aaron with shining eyes. “This man, what’d you say his name was?”

“Rick. Rick Grimes.” 

If your heart had been fluttering before, it was banging like a drum in your chest now. Your stomach fluttered, your hand coming to rest on the swell of your belly, hoping to quell the anxiousness. 

“Where are they?” You asked, and Aaron’s mouth only remained agape. “Aaron, where are they?”

“Down the street,” he finally said, voice cracking. “The house on the curb, the one you said you liked.” 

Within moments, your food and friends were abandoned as you practically ran from the home, shooting down the porch steps and down the street. You were thankful that no one was out and about right now, or you were sure they’d think you looked crazy. You didn’t even register a person in your path until you’d already bumped into them. 

“Oh! Y/n, are you alright?” Jessie asked, her hands on your shoulders as her eyes searched your wild ones. 

“‘M fine, Jessie.” You muttered. “I’ve gotta go.”

You gave the woman no time to respond before you were wriggling out of her grip and hurrying down the street. Up more steps, you were greeted by the charming yellow door of the home you’d wished you lived in, knuckles rapping frantically and unyielding on the wood. 

The door finally, after what felt like decades, creaked open. Your heart stopped in your chest as you took in the sight of your husband’s best friend, clean shaven and hair dripping from a recent shower. 

Rick’s eyes flooded with tears as they met your own. In seconds, you were pulling him into your arms, grateful that you weren’t the only survivor of the Governor’s wrath. 

You sobbed into his shoulder, gripping tightly to the clean white shirt he wore. “Rick,” you croaked, “is he—” 

“He’s fine,” Rick whispered, heart breaking when your sobs worsened out of pure relief. “He’s just fine.” 

When you finally found the strength to let go, Rick led you inside. “We thought you were dead,”

“There were times I wished I was,” you said, taking a seat at the edge of the couch. “I was by myself for just over a month. Found some train tracks, lost ‘em, then stuck to interstates, mostly. Got lost in the woods, found a small town, and from there, Aaron and Eric found me. I’ve been here for two months.” 

Rick huffed a laugh, disbelief filling the sound. “Sounds like you had one hell of a trek.”

“I had a car, for a bit.” You shrugged. “Walkers ruined that part. I crashed it into a tree. Stuck to walking after that.” 

“When did you…” Rick glanced down at your swelling belly, forcing a laugh from you. 

Shrugging, you smoothed your hand over your belly. “Four-ish months ago. Didn’t find out until I got here. Been terrified ever since, really. Not knowing if Daryl was out there, if I’d see him again.” 

“You’ll see him soon,” Rick assured you. “He’s talking to Deanna now.”

“And the others?” You asked. “Beth? Judith?”

“Judith is just fine,” Rick said, eyes leaving yours as he sighed. “Beth got caught out in Atlanta. A woman in a hospital killed her.”

Your stomach churned at Rick’s words, guilt crushing your lungs and bile rising in your throat. “Oh, my God,” you whispered, pressing your fingers to your mouth to try and stop yourself from throwing up. 

Rick nodded, resting a hand on your knee. He watched you stand, your arm resting over your belly, beginning to pace the floor before him. 

“I have to… I need to go see the others. Daryl.” And without another word, you were leaving Rick behind in an unfamiliar home, nearly running down the familiar path to where Deanna and her husband lived. 

The group milled about in the small courtyard in front of Deanna’s house, hidden behind the brick walls that fenced it in. Everyone was either sitting or leaning against something, sticking to a tight group, and completely blocking your path to the inside of the home. 

With your mind so set on seeing Daryl, on simply getting close to him again, you failed to register Carol saying your name. Once again, you were pulled from your thoughts only when someone was right in front of you. 

This time, Carol was pulling you into her arms, her grip on your body tight. You hugged her back, despite the sweat and grime that covered her. Soon enough, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, and Sasha had joined her. You were surrounded by your family, all overwhelmed at your presence, but happy nonetheless. 

When you finally requested to be let go, they obliged, and you finally spotted Judith in the arms of someone you didn’t know. Relief flooded you, seeing the baby healthy and happy as she could be. 

“What happened to you?”

“We thought you were dead!”

“Are you okay?”

“Guys, I’m fine, I promise.” You chuckled through tears. “I’ve been here almost the whole time, and I’m perfectly healthy. The doctor said so this morning.” 

You smiled as Carol’s eyes drifted from your face to your belly, shock overcoming her features, before her smile matched yours. She said nothing, but you were sure everyone else was either figuring it out or partially aware, just based on the interaction alone. 

A loud scoff echoed from the porch door, followed by low, gravelly muttering. Your heart stopped at the familiar voice, before thrumming in your heart like a rapid drumbeat. There, walking with careless ease, picking at his thumbs, was your husband, covered head to toe in layers of dirt and grime. You choked a sob as the group seemed to part around you. 

“Daryl,” you croaked, just loud enough for him to hear it. 

Daryl paused at the top of the steps, his eyes locked onto yours through the hair he’d let grow too long. In a flash, he was down the stairs entirely, rushing to pull you into his arms. You met him in the middle, colliding with his body and bringing you both to the ground. With one hand cupping the back of your head and the other splayed between your shoulder blades, Daryl cradled you close to him, rocking you as you clutched to the leather vest on his back tighter, sobbing in his embrace. 

“I thought ya were dead,” he whispered, fingers digging into your back. “I thought I lost ya,”

A choked sound escaped you as you shook your head. “Never,” you promised. “You could never lose me.” 

“Yer necklace,” Daryl croaked, tucking his face into the side of your head. “I found it, on the tracks in Georgia. Thought ya were gone…” 

“It fell.” You said, words hushed and shaking, as though they were a desperate plea. “Walkers were coming for me, too many for me to take on myself. It snapped off in the fight, I couldn’t go back for it.” 

By the time you felt okay enough to stand on your own, everyone had departed from the courtyard, likely into Deanna’s home. With a vice grip on his arms, Daryl helped you stand. His eyes raked over your face, tear-stricken and flushed with emotion. No matter the state you were in, Daryl could never see you as anything other than utterly beautiful. 

“You’re okay?” You asked, hands gently brushing the hair from his dirt-caked face. “You’re not hurt?” 

Daryl shook his head, leaning into your delicate touch. Hands smoothed over cloth, over skin, dedicating the feeling of your body beneath his touch to memory. He watched your eyes flutter closed as he did so, relishing in the slight pressure of his palms against your skin. They slid down your hips, your waist, and Daryl’s brow furrowed. He’d committed your body to memory long ago — every curve, every bump, every scar. Slowly, and with a hand that was less steady than it had been a moment ago, Daryl’s fingers drifted delicately over your front, eliciting a small gasp when he found what he’d suspected. 

The sound forced your eyes to open, meeting the bright blue of his own, widened in shock. Immediately, your stomach churned and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, a habit you’d been unable to shake since high school. 

“Daryl?” Your voice shook. 

“Yer…” he breathed, eyes darting down to where the backs of his fingers rested, the slight swell of your stomach confirming what he’d been about to ask. “When’d you… did you know?”

“No, no…” you whispered gently, shaking your head. “I had no clue when… I didn’t know until I got here. I suspected it on the road, but… no, I didn’t.” 

A shaking breath fell from his lips. “And yer okay? Yer both— both okay?”

“We’re just fine,” you smiled, resting your palm on his cheek. “I promise. Your girls are just fine.” 

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat, a new wave of pure emotion rolling through his body. It seized his muscles, freezing him in place as he struggled for breath and blinked away tears. Girls. He was going to be a dad. He was going to have a daughter. 

“Ya have no idea how much I love ya,” Daryl muttered, his head dipping low, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“I think I have a clue or two,” you joked, voice as soft as you could make it.

Daryl scoffed, lifting his head and pressing his lips to yours. It was short, shorter than you would’ve liked, but it carried as much love as all the other kisses you’d shared and stolen with the archer over the years. Still, he was here, and he was safe, and so were you. Nothing else mattered except that. 

The horrifying reality you’d thought yourself to be in was nothing but that — a mere thought. For now, you and Daryl were safe. Together. As a family. 

And you knew that, as he slipped the necklace back onto your skin, this time on a leather rope tied tight, there was nothing either of you wouldn’t do to stay that way. 

forever taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

daryl dixon taglist: @katrina765 @hp-hogwartsexpress @ellablossom @alexxavicry (open!)

taglist form here!

[beanpodz]

There were so many things I liked in S4 of TUA but Jesus Christ I kind of hated so much.

The end felt so rushed (probably due to less episodes). They didn’t expand enough on any resentment created by Alison and it seemed to be forgiven fairly quickly. Five not being affected by being back in the apocalypse even though season 1 him seemed extremely traumatized by it.

Speaking of five: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ALL ABOUT!? They introduced the whole relationship so far into the final season. It had no time to breath or feel organic to the characters. It seemed like everything about Five and Lila’s storylines this season was leading up to this but was this romance really something needed in a show about the family itself? Why do a plot line that created friction between them like that? Diego was literally mad at Five in his final moments! WTF! Also you’re trying to tell me five, THE SAME GUY WHOSE WHOLE LIFE REVOLVED AROUND GETTING BACK TO HIS FAMILY, would not do everything in his power to get back to them? He spent 40 YEARS trying to get back. I could rant on this for hours. They really said Aidens of age now let’s have him make out with someone.

Ray not being there was insane. Five has never trusted an employer in his life but sure he didn’t know anything about the CIA being filled with cult members I guess. The introduction of Jennifer I understand was needed for plot reasons but it’s another forced romance and didn’t allow for enough cool fight scenes (this point is personal lol), and the ending scene was cute but it made no sense timeline wise for all of these people to just be chilling in the same year together.

It didn’t leave me satisfied. It left a pit in my stomach which I usually like in a show but this time it wasn’t earned. I loved the siblings bonding. I loved Dad Diego. I loved Angsty Claire. I liked Jean and Gene. I loved the five mind deli. I loved “little Greek guy” and Luther being a hot spaceman dancer. But God so much of this series was lacking and I wish it could have left us with something more than it did. But IDK it’s 6 in the morning and I just binged it. Maybe I’m just tired.

[luveline]

this is quite vague, sorry, but would you please write more for coworker James? maybe him and r are sneaking around to kiss or they go out or Sirius and Remus find out. Idk whatever you feel like!!

you and James at the end of a secret date | ty for requesting! fem

You kissed James because you had to. You’ve never felt that pull before, but he’d been sitting there on the step next to you, close enough to see the freckles on his nose and count them, and— well, it’s hard to explain. But you kissed him. 

So far, it’s working in your favour. 

“It’s fine,” James says, breathless where he’s kissing your neck. 

“No, I think I broke it,” you say, squirming away from him to see the lamp where it’s fallen. “Shit.”

James had been kissing you on his sofa and your arm had a mind of its own, moving backward, whacking the body of the lamp where it had been living innocently on the side table. Now it’s in five separate pieces on the floor, but James doesn’t care. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“I’m not.”

You laugh, a little lost in the way he’s touching you. James isn’t being too much, despite your legs spread around his hips to let him kiss you and the slip of your stomach that’s exposed itself. He’s kissing you hard, yes, but he isn’t grabbing anything too sensitive. He isn’t initiating, just kissing. 

“No, ‘cos– ‘cos I’ve broken it, I have, I’ll have to buy you another one. It’s from IKEA, right? It’s–”

“It’s from IKEA,” James affirms, lifting his face from your neck to meet your eyes. His lips are pink from kissing, the tip of his nose ruddied. “I can get another one any hour of the day. Can you stop worrying?” 

“No.” 

James laughs and holds your cheek. “No, I guess you can’t. And I was getting ahead of myself, wasn’t I?” He turns his hand, stroking your under eye with a careful fingernail. “It’s getting late. I should drive you home.” 

You’re crestfallen, then. “Is it?” 

He checks his watch. “S’almost eleven.” 

You have work tomorrow. You’ll have to wake at 6AM. But you don’t want to leave, don’t want James to get off of you, don’t want to go back to the office where you’re still pretending to hate him. 

Not very well, mind you, but pretending all the same. 

You’re distracted from your melancholy by the marvel of him above you. His hair seems darker than ever today, black and shiny and nice to touch, a tad mussed from your hands. You smooth down each wanton curl and get a good look at his eyes. His lashes… it leaves you breathless again, how long they are, how beautiful he seems. 

You’re dating, sort of. Not together. You can’t stay the night, you haven’t fucked, and he doesn’t seem to want to yet. It’s still early days.

You aren’t sure if you’d let him fuck you here, but he hasn’t tried. You’d thought the neck kissing was a precursor, felt heat blooming in your chest and somewhere lower as he held your nape. You can imagine it easily from this position, blood rushing to warm your chest, a tizzied kiss of it to match James’ blush. He’d touch you, and you’d let him. He’d push your shirt the rest of the way up and see you clearly. 

“James…” you say softly. 

“What?” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

He strokes your cheek. Your skin stretches gently under his touch, your eye squinting closed. “What sort of something?” he whispers. 

You wanna ask why he won’t fuck you. It would make sense —isn’t that what rivalry is, heated competition with poorly hidden sexual tension? Is that what you and James had?

“I’ve been thinking about something.”

“What sort of something?” he repeats with a laugh. 

“I don’t want to say it out loud.” 

James lets your head rest against the armrest and pillow smushed behind the top of it. He leans down to kiss you, a pulling thing you can’t help following. “Then don’t say it,” he murmurs, his nose dragging up your cheek as your lips part lazily. “Maybe I can guess.” 

“I don’t think you’ll be able to.” 

“You never have any faith in me.” 

You have much more in him as of late. James has yet to let you down. You kissed him and it’s like he refuses to be cruel about it, never letting you worry, eager in his reciprocation. Things are still confusing between you because you’re avoiding a conversation you’re too afraid to start, lest he want something casual. Instead, you’ve let him drag you deeper into his caging. It will hurt twice as much to ask now. 

“It’s stupid,” you say. “Never mind.” 

“It’s not stupid.” 

“No, it was.” You scratch his scalp as you know he adores. “It’s eleven. You can kiss me for at least another half an hour.” 

If he hears the hopefulness in your voice he ignores it. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna keep you up.” 

“Well, only if you want to.” 

“I always want to kiss you, you vexing woman,” he murmurs, shivers lining your arms and spine as his lips part against your cheek. He kisses downwards, sloven, half moon kisses, lightest scratch of his teeth on your neck. “Is it too immature if I leave a mark?” he asks. 

Immature? You have no idea. “I don’t mind what you do, just not above the collar, please.” 

You grow still as he tugs at the neckline of your shirt to expose your chest. It isn’t what you meant, and you’re not about to correct him. 

“Tell me if I…” He looks up at you, smiling nicely. “Just tell me if I take it too far,” he says. “Okay?” 

He plants a kiss over your heart. You hate thinking that he can feel it, hammering, betraying your deep feelings. “Okay,” you breathe.

[jareaul0ver]

I Wanna Be Yours

pt 1

wc: 1.6k warnings: douchey bf, mentions of sex, clubbing, alcohol, cheating (only a little) pairings: nika muhl x fem!reader

ok guys i’m doing a series!! this is partially why i closed my requests, so if this does bad i might cry. idk how many parts it’s gonna be but here’s part 1, enjoy :)

You laid back with a sigh and watched your boyfriend get up. He immediately pulled out his phone and called his friend.

“Yeah. Yeah man, I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and turned to you. You were sweaty, tired, and uncomfortable; he couldn’t get you to cum to save his life. “Ima hang out with the boys babe.”

You frowned. “You’re leaving already? You just.. you just got here.”

He shrugged and threw a shirt on. “Yeah, but we already fucked.”

There it was again. Your boyfriend, the guy who supposedly was in love with you, taking part in his usual after sex ritual. You’d go to either of your places, fuck, and he’d either leave completely or pay no mind to you after.

It felt like a casual hookup, and it made you feel awful.

“Plus, I’m taking you out tomorrow night. Isn’t that enough?” He hoisted his shorts back onto his waist and fixed his hair in the mirror.

“I guess.” You sighed.

He walked towards the bedroom door. “Love you babe.”

You watched him leave without saying anything in return. Your eyes shut and you took a deep breath. It wasn’t unusual for him to act this way, hell it was the only way you knew he acted, but it still hurt every time.

Your friend slung her arm around your shoulder as you left class. “Yeah, then he just left.” You finished explaining yesterdays events to her.

“Girl, you’ve gotta dump his ass.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Come out with me and the girls tonight, we can go to a club and find you someone new.”

“I can’t, Ryan planned a date night today. Some sort of dinner thing.” You shrugged. “Maybe another time.”

She gave you a knowing look. “Fine, just call if you need anything, or if you change your mind.” She smirked before walking away.

You touched up your makeup and hair in the mirror. The black bodycon dress you wore made you look incredible. He had told you earlier to dress nice, so you found the nicest thing in your closet and threw it on.

Ryan was coming from one of his friends apartments, so you had to meet him at the restaurant.

You pulled up outside of the place and found a parking spot. It looked nice on the outside, pretty yellow lights hanging around the outdoor seating, surprisingly beautiful architecture considering it’s a restaurant.

It was nice, and you knew this was Ryan trying to make up for everything. You headed inside and a hosted led you to the table that he reserved for the two of you.

Once you sat down and ordered a water, you checked the time. He was running a few minutes late, which was normal.

A little more time had passed. A waitress had come to ask if you wanted to order, and you shook your head and said to wait a few more minutes.

Well, those few minutes passed and there was still no sign of your boyfriend showing up. You pulled out your phone and called him.

No answer.

You called him again, no answer.

You sent a few texts asking where he was, if he was okay, and if he’d be there soon.

A few minutes later you checked your phone and there was still no answer. The waitress had come back to the table and she noticed the tears welling in your eyes. “Listen, I know you’re waiting for someone miss, but I’d hate to see you wait here all night for them.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll- Ill be leaving now, thank you.” You gave her a polite smile and gathered your purse and jacket before leaving the restaurant.

The second you got into the car the tears started flowing. In the end, you weren’t surprised this happened. He was a shit boyfriend and always ended up making you feel this way.

You pulled out your phone and dialed a number. “Hello?” The voice rang out over the loud sound of music behind it.

“What club are you at?” You spoke through tears.

“Oh, sweetie.” You friend frowned and you could hear it through her voice. “The usual. He didn’t show up?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it. Be there in 15.” You hung up and immediately started driving to the club.

You’d been on the road for 10 minutes and there was still no answer from Ryan. The second you parked you checked his location, and it showed that he was still at his friends house.

You quickly got it off your screen and rushed into the club, trying hard to find your friends. You also were trying hard to not let the tears in your eyes fall, but it was proving to be difficult.

Once you finally spotted them, you made a beeline towards the back of the club. Except you didn’t make it very far. You ran straight into a tall figure.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” The figure turned around and a brunette stared down at you.

She must’ve seen your shaken state and shook her head softly. “No worries.” She paused. “Are you okay?”

You blinked a few times and your eyes met hers. They were soft and brown and you felt yourself immediately being pulled in.

“Hello?” She waved her hand gently in front of your face.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m- I’m okay.” You smiled a bit at her.

She smiled back and nodded. “I’m Nika, by the way.”

The second you heard her name it clicked in your head who you were talking to. Your eyes widened a bit. You were new to the UConn scene, only arriving as a transfer at the beginning of the year, but of course you had heard about Nika Muhl.

“I- I know.” You shook your head immediately. “I mean, I’ve seen you. Fuck- I’ve seen your games.” You let out a long breath and looked away from her. “Sorry, I’m a mess right now.”

She couldn’t help but smile at your nerves. She thought it was adorable. Nika laughed softly. “I’ve never seen you around before, y’know.”

“I transferred from Boston College this year.” You met her eyes again and realized her gaze hadn’t left you.

She nodded. “Why don’t I get you a drink, then you can tell me more?”

A small smile twitched at your lips. “Deal.”

The rest of the night went smoothly. You and Nika talked, and both of your groups of friends had been long forgotten.

Everything was going great until she asked about the one thing you hoped she wouldn’t. “So.. d’you have a boyfriend or anything?”

You froze for a second and took a deep breath. “I, uh, yeah. Yeah, I do.”

She nodded and took a sip of her drink to mask her disappointment, but she didn’t miss the tone of your voice when you answered.

“He’s.. awful though. I’m only here because he forgot about our date night.” You took a sip of your drink after that.

She scoffed. “What a dick.” She couldn’t believe that anyone could treat a girl like you that way. Nika had only known you for less than a few hours but she knew you were special, and deserved to be treated as such.

You shrugged and looked down at your lap. You fidgeted with the promise ring on your finger, only feeling more hurt by looking at it.

She watched you for a moment before standing up and pulled your hands out of your lap. “C’mon, let’s go dance. Forget about him.”

“Oh, no I-“ You shook your head. “I’m not a dancer.”

“Neither am I, but have some fun, yeah?”

You sighed and got up, letting her lead you to where everyone was huddled together and dancing. You stood there awkwardly for a moment before Nika started swaying, moving your arms around.

You couldn’t help but smile at her, and she smiled back. You started swaying on your own, dancing along to the music blaring from the overhead speakers.

More people joined their friends on the dance floor and it started feeling like a can of sardines. At this point, you were practically pressed against Nika.

The heat radiating off her body could be felt a mile away. You shouldn’t have been doing this with her, you had a boyfriend, but she was so beautiful and kind, you couldn’t help yourself.

Her hands found your waist and you let her rest them there. How could something so incredibly wrong feel so good?

Nika’s brown eyes stared down at you as you danced against her. Her gaze flickered lower, landing on your lips. She couldn’t help herself. She leaned in and kissed you feverishly.

You melted against her, letting the kiss consume you whole. But then Ryan’s face popped into your head. You were out, kissing a girl in a club, while Ryan was probably at his friends house asleep. He had no idea, and even though he was awful, you couldn’t do this to him.

You pulled away from her and took a step back. “I- I can’t do this, Nika. I have a boyfriend-“

“Yeah, but he’s a douche, and you deserve better.” She cut you off.

You shook your head. “But this.. this is wrong. I’m sorry.” You quickly pushed your way out of the crowd of people and through the exit of the club. You reached your car and let out a deep breath.

You ran a hand over your face and blinked a few times. “What the fuck did I just do?”

[zo3mess]

Pest Control

Summary: So, Adrian has a girlfriend… And it’s not you. But that’s fine, it’s not like you have a secret crush on him, right? And it’s not like she treats him like an absolute shit while you have to hear every night how great she is. Maybe someone should help Adrian get rid of that gold-digging leech.

Warnings: 18+, toxic relationships, Adrian is a meanie, reader is a simp and makes questionable decisions, unrequited love (unless…), blowjobs, voyeurism, foul language, fem!reader, no Y/N

Word count: 4.3K

Requests

Extra songs for this fic

Masterlist

Note: Wow, this was pain to write. I literally wanted to scrap it every time I worked on this. Anyways, I’ve been thinking about requests I guess? Idk if anyone would be interested, but if you are, just write a message and I might come up with something. Anyways, enjoy this mess <3

You thought Adrian was a smart guy. You’ve listened to him bragging about precisely picking up clues about criminals’ weak spots just from simple observations. You’ve seen him put together who is the killer in the detective series you watch together.

Well, you just have to forget about that time when he thought he could talk himself from that mess he got into when he accidentally revealed his secret identity. Vigilante mask messily thrown under the passenger seat didn’t make it when he gave you a lift

Still it was a shame to see him lose all that perception and common sense when a pretty girl paid attention to him.

Sadly, that pretty girl wasn’t you. Not that you mind of course. You just hated how he talked your ear off with odes on her beauty. Great ass this, big tits that, but you caught up all those small details that he seemingly missed.

How she conventionally forgets her wallet every time he takes her out. How she checks his phone for “cyber threats” when the only true threat is her. How she is always late with her mortgage payment, at least that’s what she tells him, and when he lends her money, suddenly a new pair of heels occupy her shoe rack.

Every shift with Adrian ended before you even realized, you just discussed stupid things when you do the dishes or shoot funny faces at each other across the restaurant. But ever since he got into a relationship, he had his head full of her instead of all your shared interests from before. Over and over again he talked about Meghan.

Just like now, he yapped and yapped, getting all mushy and soft to the point where he almost forgot that he’s supposed to be bussing tables with you.

“She said she loved me, would you believe that?” Even when he was turned away from you he couldn’t hide a cheery grin that formed with his words. He was just so happy, while you practically felt your heart shatter.

“And do you… love her back?”

“I- pfff, of course I do. What kinda question is that?” He answered right after you asked, like he was 100 % sure about his feelings. You knew him long enough to know, that Adrian was far from a person who had his thoughts and feelings together.

You decided not to sow any doubts into his belief, he would shut any of your argument down like the stubborn guy he is.

“You would like her, you know.” Such a simple statement, such an anger trigger.

“You would like her,” you mocked his statement under your breath while kneeling in front of the electricity box from the other side of Meg’s house. “Yeah, I would like her six feet under.”

Hey, maybe it was not the smartest idea to flip her electricity off for seemingly no reason, but God, were you furious. Meghan had Adrian wrapped around her dainty little finger and he acted like her little pet, doing tricks for the smallest signs of affection.

So what if you wanted her life to not be so perfect? At least for a little while until she figures out how to switch the electricity back.

Vigilante would send a bullet right through your head for doing this.

Though you were sure he would never ever-

Well… Maybe he would. Crime is crime, no matter how great friends you are. You were safe for now, he didn’t have time tonight to watch cheesy romcoms with you and laugh at the stupidity of it. Apparently, he had business to take care of, which could only mean he started his stake out earlier than normal.

Just when you were about to stand up and leave in silence, unseen by neighbors if you got lucky, you heard voices. Not exactly near you, but close enough to make you nervous.

Voices. Conversation. Slam of car doors followed by slam of front door… Shit.

The logical part of your brain screamed ‘Run!’ but the other part of your brain, which usually stands behind those kinds of petty actions, tells you to wait for Meghan’s annoyance and confusion once she finds she can’t even switch a light on.

Silent steps, moves like a ninja, if Adrian saw you he would totally compliment your cat-like walk from the electricity box to the side of Meg’s house. Though he would not compliment the fact that you were too eager to snoop around and look inside her house through the half-open blinds.

You expected Adrian’s girlfriend to barge in with her friends of some sort, but genuine surprise spread across your face when she came in with Adrian, who had his hands full with various shopping bags.

So this is what he meant by business? Being a slave in shopping fever?

And he didn’t even have the guts to tell you honestly why he couldn’t hang out after the morning shift like usual.

And what shocked you even more was the situation that unfolded in front of you. Meghan practically launched at Adrian, making him drop all the bags on the floor. She locked him in a messy and steamy kiss that made your stomach twist.

Oh my god. You shouldn’t be watching that, right?

But it was so endearing. It didn’t take long before she slid to her knees and undid Adrian’s jeans with skilled hands and took his dick out. If only she didn’t block your view with her head…

Adrian gasped and writhed under her hands, you have never seen him turn to putty so fast. He gets all wobbly, whiny, and cuddly when he has too many drinks in a bar, which is probably the closest you could have gotten to see this side.

But this? A Whole next level.

Pathetically beautiful.

“Shut up, Adrian.” Meg’s annoyed order sent a shiver down your spine. This just gave you another piece of evidence of how horrible she was.

What fool would shut down an angel’s choir right before them? You only got a taste of what his vocal cords could do amid pleasure and just that was making your insides jump in unexplainable need.

Adrian unfortunately complied. He clamped his palm over his mouth, muffling any noise that threatened to escape as she took him in her mouth. Despite his tries though, a few loud groans still traveled to your ears.

You’ve heard him groan in pain when he sliced his hand by broken glass at work or when he stubbed his toe on your coffee table. But hearing him groan in pleasure? If you could it would be the only sound he would make next to another moans and whimpers.

This was just so wrong. You mentally kicked yourself that you haven’t dipped already. To be fair it wasn’t worse than cutting off electricity in her house, at least in a legal way. In moral ways, this was worse.

But it truly was a sight to behold.

Just from this distance, you could see the way his lower stomach seized with each bob of her head. Or how he stopped his hips from thrusting further. Chest heaving with each shallow breath. One hand dug in the wall he was leaning on, the other hid half of his face desperately trying to shush himself. Usually twinkling eyes shut tightly under his aviator glasses alongside furrowed brows accompanying the whole look.

This boy belonged to an art gallery. And if not there, he could be an art piece in your home, your eyes alone would replace a thousand others.

Maybe all it takes for someone to realize their feelings is to watch a friend get a blowjob. Because right here and there, kneeling next to the window and peeking through blinds, you feel…

Jealousy. That is what it was all along.

You wished you could take Meghan’s place and kneel in front of him rather than hiding and watching the nasty scene in front of you. You just couldn’t tear your eyes away, at least not until it was all over.

Eventually, Adrian cried out loudly and slammed his hand against the wall. That’s where you realized he was not only forbidden from moaning out loud but also forbidden from touching her. Considering this was her way of paying off Adrian...

Meg quickly stood up and ran towards the sink the second Adrian stopped flaring inside her mouth. Why was it breaking your heart to see her spit out his cum down the drain and immediately rinse her mouth with water. And poor Adrian followed her decision to not swallow with a disappointed look.

There must have been something really appealing to guys to have their girls swallow everything they so generously give them. The idea of part of them staying inside their loved ones for the rest of the day.

Ownership.

Except in this situation Meg owned Adrian, not the other way around. At least that much was clear, it made sense she would never allow something so intimate.

It was hard to act nonchalant around Adrian those following days. The second he came through the door you lost ability to talk normally, hell, you forgot how to walk like a normal human every time he was nearby.

To be fair, there was such a mix of emotions coursing through you it would be a miracle if you acted cool. Jealousy, anger, guilt and… Attraction? No, that can’t be. Every person would feel this weirdly if they saw one of their closest friends getting oral.

It’s like when you experience that strange phenomenon where you dream of someone close to you and suddenly, upon waking up, you realize you have a huge crush on them. It's like your subconscious mind has played a trick on you, ‘Do it for the plot’ as the youngsters say.

Thinking about it afterwards, it was foolish to switch her electricity off. At least it calmed your raging nerves for a while. Give or take few minutes until your mind set off when you saw Adrian getting a blowjob and all of a sudden you developed crush on him.

And now? Well… How else are you supposed to calm nerves from one-sided love?

Alcohol. Drink it over.

Is it a solution? Yes. Is it a good one? That’s debatable.

You don’t even usually drink, at least not in some dingy bars, but it is the only thing that makes you forget about that ache in your chest. You sit by the bar, occasionally spilling sorrows to the barman that clearly let your complaints one ear in, one ear out.

At the point where you felt tipsy and dizzy, you settled on leaving the bar as long as you had some dignity. Phone numbers started mixing, names on your phone were way too blurred.

But the one thing that sobered you out was a woman that walked past you with a man by her side. You knew her, right? She looked familiar?

The pair settled in the booth at the very end of the bar, seeking darkness and privacy, illuminated only by few fairyl ights that hovered over the booth instead of those sharp reflectors by the bar.

The unstable bar stool barely held you up as you leaned towards that woman you have totally seen before. By some squinting and ears dropping you finally figured who it was…

Meghan.

With someone that wasn’t Adrian.

But that fine, it could be some old friend, coworker, maybe brother or cousin-

“Holy shit, they’re making out.”

“Congratulations, your eyes are still working.” The barman chimed in and slid you a bill, impatiently tapping his finger on the counter.

You had to sleep on it, That sight haunted your mind even the day after, when hangover brought you down but your mind was clear enough to think about the thing you saw yesterday.

Meghan. Was in a bar with some macho man that definitely wasn’t Adrian. And they were basically sticking tongues down each other’s throats…

This was wrong. So wrong. Poor Ade had no idea he was being cheated on. Well, it’s not like you haven’t anticipated it, but he couldn’t see it coming.

You would be a bad friend if you didn’t do anything about it. But coming onto him and saying something like this? Adrian would only laugh in your face and tell you to stop fucking with him, his perfect little girlfriend would never do that.

So… What if you gave Meghan a chance? You still had her number from that one time where Adrian tried to do a common movie night. It never happened.

Either she comes clean herself or you will tell Adrian. She does not need to know he probably won’t believe you either way.

Give her creeps, scare her… That’s the plan. You just had to text her from hidden number and wait for karma to do its thing.

She never answered back to that menacing text, days passed and it seemed Adrian and Meghan were still going strong. You almost thought nothing will come out of it.

It almost became the time where you prepared yourself to tell him the truth but…

Until one day, Adrian was acting weird on a shift. Not that it is something unusual, he is weird in certain aspects, but this time it was different.

He did offer you ride home like always though and there was no way you would refuse, at that time you didn’t thought it would be any different.

Not until you actually got into his car…  Familiar environment, same car fragrance, same little silly figure holding motivation quote on his dashboard. Yet your gut screaming that something was not right. Especially when Adrian just sat there, hands on the steering wheel without even starting the car.

“My girlfriend called me,” He started off with a calm voice, but you knew damn well where this was going. “Well, ex-girlfriend now…” He corrected himself with such a nonchalant demeanor like it was nothing.

You just sat in his car, silent, not daring to even flinch. Calm before storm, as they say, now you finally know how it feels.

“And well you know, apparently one of my psycho coworkers was threatening her and stuff.” He chatted away with such grace. Completely undisturbed like he was talking about his favorite pizza toppings. It was pineapple by the way, if anyone was wondering how psychotic he can be.

Why was he so calm? Somehow it was scarier than if he screamed at you right away.

“She said I wasn’t worth dealing with this bullshit, would you believe that?” A way too loud chuckle rang in your ears. You couldn’t decipher if he was actually amused or faked it for the sake of it.

Oh you wanted to turn invisible or at least hide from his piercing eyes. He could see almost every twitch in your face that erupted due to him. Every jerk of muscles in your tense expression and every nervous blink that only revealed your blame.

“And on top of that, she took like 120 dollars from my bank account? Funny huh?”

That didn’t even surprise you, Adrian gave her his credit card for undisclosed reasons. What did surprise you was the lack of emotion behind his ‘jokes’.

You were fucked and not in the good way.

“And I just find it interesting that the person she described sounds a lot like you. So, what the fuck did you do?” Oh, he shoots you that look. That disappointed and angry look that was even more telling than any word could possibly be.

“I did what I had to do. She was with you just for your money, can’t you see that?”

“She loved me!”

“She used you!” You spat back instantly, someone might argue it was maybe even too harsh, but it seemed that all grace left the moment he confronted you.

No other comment followed, no argument, no justification for Meghan’s actions. He just stared at you, a mix of emotions mixing behind his irises and it made you wonder whenever he realized that your words had some truth to them.

The silence that followed made the air near right suffocating, sparkling with tension that could set off with one wrong word. But you take the chance anyway.

“You should be with someone who actually likes you for who you are.”

“Yeah, right,” Adrian scoffed and shook his head to himself, “You mean with someone like you? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Oh, how did that sting. Words laced with mockery and annoyance.

Someone like you…

 Of course he never saw you that way. You were just an insignificant part of his life. Just another coworker, someone he can pass time when he’s bored but nothing more.

“You say that you care and you show it by making my girlfriend dump me. How is that caring?” He didn’t stop flaring hurtful words at you with a choked-up voice. And it made you wonder for a split second if he knew how much he was breaking you. He could be cruel, but would he unleash that side on you?

“You don’t know shit, Adrian!” You couldn’t take it anymore, with an annoyed screech you left his car and slammed the car doors as hard as you could.

Sultry night air pooled warmth over your body the second you left his car and stomped back towards the restaurant. You were ready to beg any of your coworkers for a lift home now that Adrian wasn’t an option.

And in the span of a few days, Adrian lost two people he cared about. Their titles were clear, girlfriend and friend, but those mixed-up feelings hiding behind simple names made his head dizzy. When Meg left, he didn’t feel sadness or loss. It was more disappointment that soon turned into anger directed at you.

Who were you to make decisions like this for him? It was your fault she left him without a word and a few dollars lighter. Well in the grand scheme of things it was just a few.

But all things considered, your departure somehow hurt more. When you slammed the car doors in his face he felt sad. Genuinely. Your actions hurt him, of course, but the feeling only dug itself deeper into his soul when you parted ways on bad terms.

But again, he was never particularly an expert at deciphering his emotions. So whatever he felt, it might as well be a simple betrayal with no extra complexity.

And when it came to you, well…

You knew you fucked up. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. No matter what Adrian believes, you had good intentions. They might have been laced with your own selfish needs, but that doesn’t change the fact that you just wanted to help him.

 What else you could have done except for this? Talking about it wouldn’t make him see clearer, you tried. Leaving him be would be the easiest option, that didn’t seem like a good solution. At this rate, he would lose all his money because of her and probably get all washed up. Just a perfect boyfriend ATM for her.

After many shifts where Adrian completely avoided you and didn’t even shoot you a glance, you finally come to terms that you lost him. There won’t be any more movie nights where you stuff your mouth with cheap popcorn or inside jokes you occupied yourselves at work to make the shift run faster.

Maybe there was a side to his girlfriend that you didn’t see. Light touches in the morning when Adrian spent the night, fleeting kisses, jokes they shared, but what would be the chance she had a heart and used it to love him.

She still cheated on him in that bar. It was her. Totally. No doubt. Right?

A warm storm was brewing in the night sky when you got to your bus stop, the pleasant smell of rain carried itself through the streets and small raindrops wetted your hair and stuck it to your skin. Those kinds of summer storms were nice when you didn’t have to wait for a dingy bus to take you home.

Especially tonight it seemed like the bus would never come. You waited, waited, waited… It either broke down or the driver just decided that he won’t take a turn to get to this specific bus stop.

Either way you were getting drenched, cold and impatient, already settling on calling overpriced taxi or walking home in a storm.

You began walking in direction of your home until a familiar car slowed beside you on the road But even then you didn’t stop walking, you knew damn well who it was but you weren’t gonna give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. Sebring’s window got rolled down “Need a ride?” and that was when you finally stopped and took a peek on the driver that had almost too soft of a expression plastered on his face.

That ride home was quiet, yet surprisingly peaceful. Neither of you dared to say a word, either because you didn’t want to interrupt the calm between you or because you simply had nothing to say.

One of those times when you meet up with an old friend after such a long time. When you have to warm up a bit to their presence.

And gods, did you miss him. More than you’d care to admit.

Blinding lamp lights flashed through the car window and slow jazz played from the radio on the lowest volume. And just then, when you finally felt a sense of familiarity you talked “I meant well.”

“I know.” Was all he said back before you settled on silence again, much lighter silence.

From time to time you both stole a glance at each other, but Adrian had to focus on the road and you averted gaze from the fear of being caught staring.

How did you never noticed how pretty he looked in the night light?

He stopped in front of your house, a strong deja vú washed over you, but before you could have exited the car yourself, Adrian jumped out of the car and walked over to open the door for you. It’s not like he haven’t done that before, but after you have been through it was an action you didn’t expect.

Without a complain you exited the car and just stood there on the pavement. In warm summer night that would be almost too quiet if it wasn’t for the light drip drip drop of the rain.

You were both searching for words, for apologies. Both sides were wrong and for the first time in your lives, you both knew you made a mistake. Mistake hidden by a good intention. Mistake hidden by a natural reaction. Mistake made by bad decisions, confused feelings and horrible communication.

“You planted a bug in my head, y’know,” Adrian eventually started, rubbing his hands together, “I- I���m—Sorry for acting like a jerk”

You should say you’re sorry too for sabotaging his relationship that seemed horrible to you, but maybe, just maybe, it was more tender than you anticipated.

Actions speak louder than words, right?

You take a hesitant step forward, but when Adrian doesn’t budge, you lock him in a mundane hug. That type of hugs you gave each other on drunken nights as you stumble your way home, filled with raw emotion and honest care.

Adrian’s back… And you couldn’t be happier.

Who knows if it was that sheer happiness or if you grew too confident from the fact he forgives you, you don’t have anything to lose at this point, right?

Your hand sneaks behind his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. You noticed that he is in need of a trim, but that could wait for better time.

You slowly moved your head from the crook of his neck, up and closer, until your cheeks were smushed together. In same way, those droplets of rain was giving this encounter sort of somber vibe, Peace, comfort, calmness…

And when he still didn’t budge, you dragged your face closer and closer, lips almost dragging across his cheek and then...

And then...

Butterflies in your belly were set free. They spread all across your body, making your fingers tingle as you held his face close to you, making your heart stop beating against your own ribs and against his chest. Sparkling electricity in your lips as you connected them with his own buzzing ones.

Adrian himself didn’t know what drove him to kiss you back. Did it matter anyway? Who the hell knows if his motivation was just a need for a quick rebound or if he finally discovered hidden feelings for you…

After all, you were in his arms and it was all that mattered.

That’s where you belonged all along, no matter neither of you knew it until this moment.

It’s a slow mangling of lips, strong and a little bit messy. Too much saliva, too much tongue in wrong places and yet, it was all you ever wanted, all you ever dreamed of.

Coming home. You think to yourself when you pull away for air.

“Do you want to rewatch Fargo with me?” You murmured against his lips, shit-eating grin on your lips. This was an offer you know he can’t refuse.

“Fargo and chill?” Much to your discontent he pulled away from your embrace, but all wrongs turned right when he took you by the hand and pulled you behind him towards your front door with unseen confidence.

And the second those doors shut behind you, theirs was no doubt you were both in the right place.

Sometimes life works out in the messiest way imaginable. But as long as it does, who are you to judge.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Perhaps Hal Jordan or Clark kent with cuddling. Like just them coming home after a stressed day and you just take care of them the best you can. U offer sex but they don’t want it. Just wanting to be in ur presence for a bit yk yk

Clark Kent x Male reader

Headcanons

Hey nerds, guess who’s not dead. I feel like I am, but apparently, I’m not. Classes are kicking my ass because of very cramped timelines and long days. Who’d have thought becoming a caretaker (idk the English word) would be so difficult. A shorty, but still something I enjoyed writing.

It wasn’t a common occurrence. For Clark to come home so worn out and tired. As a man powered by the sun, a man of steel as he so regularly gets called, its very difficult to him feeling so worn down.

For the most part, the days he comes home in this mood, is not because he’s exhausted physically, but rather mentally. Be it from difficult missions, or just long days at work where he’s talked down too or pushed aside.

There is something soft and cute about him like this, though you would never tell him that. he’s always a little whinier and poutier, but also cuddlier, if that’s even possible for a guy who seems to live off affectionate contact with you.

The first thing Clark does when he comes home from days like this, is kick off whatever he’s wearing and change into something else. Most days its some ancient washed-out sweatshirts from his university days. The kind that’s been washed so many times the logo is mostly gone, and the fabric is worn thin and soft.

Its either that, or if you’re bigger than him, then it’s one of your shirts. That or just a pair of boxers and socks, so he can crawl into your space and flop down there like a big lazy cat.

If possible, Clark tries to crawl up into your shirt, laying his head on your stomach or your chest, ear pressed against your skin to listen to your heart, even if he can easily do that anywhere on the planet. Being so close just puts him at ease.

You cant hear it, but you know he’s purring, even if it’s a frequency you can’t pick up. At this point you can only really rub his back and let him soak up the affection and touch he needs like a wilted flower in the sun.

When he starts pressing featherlight kisses against your torso, you start to think maybe Clark wants something more, since he starts kneading at your sides, like you’re made from playdough, and he wants to mold you into something else.

His hands are so big and strong that you almost feel like playdough, with how insistent his rubbing and kneading can get. His kisses never go beyond soft pecks and barely there brushes of his lips, Clarks head just moving from side under your shirt as he lays on top of your legs.

You don’t need words in a situation like this, your hands becoming more exploratory, rubbing between his shoulders and tapping your fingers at his spine, like he’s a harp you’re plucking the strings off.

The change in your scent must catch his attention too, as Clark lifts his head just enough for you to see him through the collar of it, his eyes soft and glistening. They remind you of marbles, in a way. So shiny and with that clash of shades of blue.

The small downwards pout of his lips and minimal shake of his head is all you need to know, that going farther isn’t what he wants. So, you just give a nod in reply and place a hand on the back of his head, bringing him back down again.

You don’t really understand why he feels so much comfort under your shirt like this. Maybe it’s the enclosed feeling of it all, the shirt, and sometimes blanket you put on top, closing him off from the rest of the world.

Maybe its just the closure, and being surrounded by your scent, which always seems to put him at ease, or rile him up, depending on your own mood.

You don’t hate it though, you never could, not when its Clark. So, instead you just lay back, rubbing your hands slowly up and down his back and Clark nuzzles deeper against you, letting him rest there for as long as he needs.

[bakugo-softski]

Something i think doesn’t get talked abt enough in bkdk is Katsuki’s first few lines in the anime, particularly the part where he says “I’ll become even better than All Might- and be the richest hero of all time!”

Thats just. It seems like such a choice. You know?

And then he goes on to never bring it up ever again lol.

If i had to guess, its Katsuki being the liar that he is. Because his motivations for “being the best” were never about being rich…his motivations had started in childhood as a way to protect people like deku. But it’s not like he could just say that. Not when he still believed he “hated” him. Not when he hadn’t yet worked out his gigantic tangled up ball of convoluted feelings.

Back then, he needed a reason to want to be the best, and the real reason had been buried under ten years of bullshit and tenacity from someone he cared about to throw himself in the line of fire, even though that someone was weak.

I think when Katsuki sees Deku use his quirk for the first time is the first time he’d actually felt some level of hatred for the boy. Because, before, he could pretend what he felt towards deku for trying to help and be a hero even though he was weak was hatred, or the idea that deku thought he was better than him, but deep down that feeling was really just fear that he was going to get himself killed.

However, when deku suddenly pops out with some crazy powerful quirk, the cover-up Katsuki had used all those years to hide his true feelings suddenly became real. Did Deku…actually think he was better than him? So much better, that he didn’t even see Katsuki as someone worthy of knowing about it? Had he…really been laughing behind his back, this whole time, and biding his time until UA to turn Katsuki into a fucking laughing stalk???

I think “becoming rich” had originally been Katsuki’s plan going into UA to cover-up his real motivations, but then that gets trashed almost immediately in the face of something he knew deep down to be a lie…suddenly becoming real. (Even if it wasn’t.)

I also think both Katsuki and Izuku had always had both “sides” of heroism inside them, but due to their upbringing and influences, their “lots” in life and the way things played out, when their friendship “split”, so did the versions of “win” and “save” inside them.

Katsuki’s motivations started as a way to protect deku, and Deku’s motivations started as a way to “win-over” Katsuki , but it convoluted so hard for the both of them that they latched on to their counterparts and eventually izuku became someone known for wanting to save, and Katsuki as someone wanting to win.

And then, as the story plays out, we see them both grow into their own and reclaim those forgotten halves, and we get to see Katsuki save, and Deku win.

Idk. Maybe I’m just crazy🫠

[green-typewriterz]

hello 🥹 could you possibly write an unrequited love oneshot with art donaldson that’s actually just the reader being oblivious and projecting art’s actions and looks onto tashi

QUICK GOSSIP

Tashi Duncan/ reader, Art Donaldson x reader

Ask: hello 🥹 could you possibly write an unrequited love oneshot with art donaldson that’s actually just the reader being oblivious and projecting art’s actions and looks onto Tashi

summary: Art had never looked the your way… at least not while you were looking

Warnings: none really, reader is jealous i guess

Author Notes: hello ml! Thank you so much for this ask it was fun to write… its not ofen i do unrequited love oneshots!! I essentially listened to l’oeuf from the challengers soundtrack on a loop while writing the stairwell scene idk if you can tell.

word count: 1504

THE CAFETERIA

Art. It was always Art. You had been friends for a long time, growing up together playing tennis and deciding to go to Stanford to further it. He was someone you’d describe as your best friend. Though, you had always hoped there’d be something more.

Then, however, Art met Tashi.

Tashi Duncan was nice enough to you - though you weren’t sure it was in her biological makeup to be more than ‘nice enough’. The one thing you didn’t like (you hated admitting this) was that Tashi made you jealous. It was impossible to not notice how Art looked at her, his eyes tracking when she played or drinking in her outfits.

So, it did feel a little uncomfortable for you when the three of you would sit together at lunch and you didn’t know what to say. You liked to listen, sure - Tashi had interesting things to say - but you wished Art would talk to you. Or even just at you.

“Y/N hit a great shot the other day,” Art said to Tashi, practically gushing over you (though you were the ever oblivious fool toward this), “I was surprised it didn’t go straight through Mia’s racket.” He continued, talking about your match with Mia Lee-Kendall. It wasn’t a match you thought much of, sure you were good, but Mia wasn’t and so your win didn’t feel all that special. At least that’s what you told yourself. Maybe the reason you didn’t want to think about it that much was because of Tashi watching from the audience…right next to Art.

You practically zoned out of the conversation, eyes tracking Art’s in a sense of solemnity as he spoke (you weren’t even sure what he was saying anymore) and eventually, when Art leaned forward into his conversation more, you had had enough and stood up with the claim you were thirsty.

It only took a few moments for you to reach the fridge yet it seemed Tashi and Art were already in a world of their own, giggling about something. Giggling. 

You could admit that it hurt, seeing how happy they looked beside each other, whispering about something you were almost certain didn’t concern you. This assumption was answered when you walked over and the laughing stopped, Tashi turning to look at you as if there was some sort of joke you weren’t in on.

Art’s face was gently warmed, cheeks pink from some sort of embarrassment - though you weren’t sure why. The conversation quickly shifted to some other matter concerning tennis, though you found you weren’t really listening.

TENNIS PRACTICE

You had been practising the same backhand swing for the past hour, still not managing to get the movement how you wanted it - you were nothing if not a perfectionist. Maybe you would’ve gotten it eventually, but Art and Tashi had decided to grace you with their usual gossipping. It was the same position of leaning into each other, eyes darting across the room as if they were preparing for something big. It pissed you off.

“Want to play?” Art asked, lifting his racket up to show that he wanted to play a match with you. You didn’t reply, only sending a quick, distant nod and he crossed the courts, ending up opposite you.

The game was harsh, fast - not something Art was used to when he’d play against you. Your usual style was calm, calculated yet equally as powerful so this sudden shift to aggression caught him off guard. He tried to match your energy, but was stopped short when you returned the ball he had served with such force that he had to move out of the way - dropping his racket as he dodged.

He raised his hands, looking at you with confusion and annoyance. “What the fuck? You could’ve hit me!” He said, brows furrowing as he walked closer to the net - a sentiment you made no attempt to copy.

“You wanted to play.” You replied, voice harsh as you went to get another tennis ball from the side of the court. He scoffed, crossing his arms.

You finally turned to look at him and found him staring directly at you, eyes full with an emotion you couldn’t understand. Mother evening picked at your skin, raising your hairs as you approached again. It wiped the sweat from your neck, cooled the heat against your cheeks. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean I want a tennis ball shaped hole in me.” He replied.

There was no reply. You simply furrowed your brow and raised your racket, showing him you wanted to go again. Art sighed but gave in, heading for the back of the court once more. He matched the energy this time, hitting with force as you did (you could admit it made it harder to play, but you weren’t thinking of tennis at that moment).

All it took was for you to miss a shot and your racket was left shattered on the floor, its golden handle the only thing intact. You grabbed your bag and headed for the door, though that meant passing by Art on your way out.

And of course that meant he wanted you to say.

Art’s hand gripped your wrist, mouth centimetres from your ear as he whispered, “What’s your problem?” His eyes were set on yours, cheeks flushed from exertion. You tried to pull away from his hand but he only pulled you closer, bodies pushed toward one another.

“You.” Was your reply, one that seemed to shock Art. “You and all your secrets.” His hand released you now, trying to move to your shoulder in what seemed to be an attempt at comfort - something you didn’t let happen. Instead you walk away.

He follows, of course, arms trying to wrap around you in some sort of reassuring hug but your struggle proved you had no want for it and he acquiesced. Tashi was his resort, as if she would have the answers to his confusion.

STANFORD DORMS - BLOCK A - THE LIFT

You wait. The lift was a temperamental thing, but you were too tired, too annoyed to walk up the stairs. Instead, you leant against the wall, face still warm from practice that day. The lift offered a pathetic beep as the doors opened and you had to fight not to scream at who was inside. Tashi and Art stood there, silent and awkward - neither making direct eye contact as if you were some wounded animal.

“I’ll take the stairs.” You said with an irritated grunt before turning on your heel and pushing the door of the stairwell open.

Art followed behind you, as you had unfortunately expected and sped forward to stop you. That’s where the two of you stood, still and silent in the bottom of an echoey stairwell.

“Why do you hate me?” His question forced a new kind of silence into the room, a tension sitting thick against your chest as you found the words to reply to a question you never thought you’d get. Though, he had decided that you had taken too long to answer and asked again, though this time with more anger behind his tone, “Why do you hate me?”

Your words were just as sharp as yours, arms rising in frustration. “I don’t! I hate that you don’t love me.” You responded and he blanched, face contorting in shock before shifting into an almost invisible smile.

“I do.”

The word seemed to echo, and as his smile grew you stepped forward (though you weren’t sure it was by choice). “What?” You asked, words quiet and unsure.

Art smiled again, looking downward - you found your eyes flitting to the soft blond curls that fell over his face. “It’s um-” He began, seemingly trying not to laugh, “It’s always been you.” His hand rose to his mouth and he pinched his lip, a habit he had that you were especially fond of.

You placed your hand over your necklace, fiddling with it awkwardly and replied, “But Tashi-”

“Was giving me advice, trying to convince me to ask you out.” He laughed awkwardly afterward and you joined him, both of you leaning forward. You were willing to admit, it wasn’t your smartest moment.

He stepped closer to you, hand twitching, reaching out for yours. Art’s eyes, a beautiful mix of brown and blue, stared into yours, that same smile still playing on his lips. “I really want to kiss you.” The words were so quiet, so soft. You closed the gap between your hands, allowing his cool skin to settle against yours and he leaned in. There was a gentleness to it at first, which was quickly deepened as you moved closer. Your hand travelled up his neck, finding a place in his hair which elicited a shiver from him, a gasp. His breath shuddered as you kissed his jawline, head turning upwards. Art’s hands pulled you into him, fingers tickling gently against your waist. He whispered once more, through soft breaths,

“It’s always been you.”

[hoe-for-hopper]

Forget About Eddie

Bestfriend!SteveHarrington x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of Eddie being a fuckboy, a lil fluff and a lil smut.

Word Count: 2247

Summary: You and Eddie have just broken up, but you're still hung up on him. Steve hates seeing you so down and just wants to make you feel better (better than Eddie could).

A/N: idk i'm on a smut writing spree, expect some more fics tomorrow (maybe some eddie, maybe some slashers, who really knows). i hardly edited this and i feel like the ending might be a lil rushed, but hey, smut is smut.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SMUT BELOW THE CUT~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I just don’t really know what to do, you know?” You and your best friend, Steve Harrington are walking to his car after your shift at Scoops. You’ve been upset all night over a fight you had with your ex-boyfriend, Eddie. 

You and Eddie had been broken up for a couple of months now, but you were still sneaking over to his trailer in the middle of the night. You couldn’t help it, you were young, horny, and Eddie was pretty good in bed. It was easy enough, until you had to get dressed and do the walk of shame across the trailer park. You know keeping this up wasn’t a smart idea, but a part of you also still loved Eddie. Even if you knew that he was just using you to get what he wanted.

“I don’t know why you’re still so hung up on that loser. You’ve always been too good for him and he didn’t deserve you.” Steve says as he unlocks the car doors and slides into the driver’s seat. He looks over at you and seeing your sad face says, “Alright, we’re going back to my place and having a movie night. I’ll call Robin and see if she’ll come over. You need to have some fun.”

You almost protest, but that does sound like it’ll get your mind off things. And if you’re at Steve’s  you won’t be as tempted to go to Eddie’s.

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

“Well Robin can’t come over. She’s got a date or something. So I guess it’s just you and me.” He says as he places a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of you. “What do you wanna watch first? I just got a tape of The Outsiders. Remember that movie?” 

“Yeah that sounds good. Thanks for the popcorn.” You reach for the bowl as Steve sits down next to you.

Throughout the movie you can feel Steve looking over at you until he finally reaches over to slide his arm around your shoulders. “Hey, I know you’re upset, but just try to forget about Eddie and whatever stupid fight you guys have had.”

“I know, Steve, It’s just really hard. I miss him and I can’t seem to stay away. I keep going over whenever he calls like I’m just some booty call and not his ex-girlfriend of TWO YEARS! It’s like that’s all he wanted me for in the first place!” You put your hands over your face and shake your head.

“Wait. You’re still going over there and sleeping with him? Why would you do that? You’re way too good to be waiting around for his phone calls just so he can get off and leave you upset.” Steve pauses the movie and turns toward you. You didn’t mean to tell him all of that, you’d been telling Steve and Robin that you hadn’t seen Eddie since the breakup. You never told them that you two had been secretly fucking every other night.

“Uh… I mean it’s hard, Steve! We were together for a long time, I can’t just stop seeing him!” You reach for the remote to play the movie again, but Steve grabs your wrist to stop you.

As you look up at him he says, “I know. I’m sure it is hard. But he can’t be that great that you’re still doing…that with him.” Steve’s arm tightens around your shoulders. He’s staring down at you with a look you’ve never seen from him before. His right hand moves from your wrist to your cheek as he brushes his thumb down to your chin.

“I mean…I don’t know.” It’s hard for you to get words out. Steve has been your best friend since you guys were kids. But all of a sudden something feels a little bit more with him. The way he’s looking at you and lightly gripping your chin is making you dizzy. You’ve never thought about him in any other way, but now your heart is beginning to flutter.

Steve notices it too, his eyes go to where his hand rests on your chin before looking back into your eyes. He slowly tilts your chin up and leans down to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. 

You kiss him back before he pulls away and says “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I think I just got carried away.” He drops his hands, grabs the remote and flips the movie back on.

“It’s… it’s okay.” You can’t think of anything else to say so you sink back into the couch and continue to watch the movie like nothing happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When you get home later that night, you can’t stop replaying that kiss in your head. You’ve never even thought about doing anything like that with Steve. He’s your best friend. You two have practically known each other since you two were in diapers. And besides, he isn’t your type at all. Apparently your type is self obsessed bad boys who break your heart yet still call you up at 1 in the morning. Look where that’s gotten me, you think. Steve is sweet, nice, caring. Everything that Eddie turned out not to be. 

You fall asleep thinking about what would have happened had Steve not come to his senses.

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

Steve has been thinking about the kiss since he dropped you off at your apartment. He’s not sure what came over him at that moment. But he does know that he enjoyed it. He knows that he definitely wanted more. But he also knows that you’re his best friend and you’re still getting over that asshole, Eddie Munson. He doesn’t want to force you into anything else.

But he still can’t see what you see in that guy. He didn’t know Eddie that well. They ran in different circles when they were in high school, but he still didn’t notice anything particularly great about the guy. 

And he was so tired of seeing you heartbroken over it. Steve thought you deserved so much more than Eddie.

Steve knew he could make you feel better than Eddie ever could.

Steve continued to think about that kiss as his hand slipped beneath the fabric of his boxers.

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

Two days go by before you see Steve again. He’s giving you a ride home from Robin’s house after a girls night.

“You know, you really didn’t have to come pick me up. I would’ve been fine walking home.” You say as you meet him outside.

“I know, but Robin’s is on my way home from work.”

Not much is said on the drive to your house. You’re still thinking about the kiss from the other night and you’re not sure if Steve is thinking about it as well. And if he is, you’re not sure what he’s thinking about it. Does he think it was a mistake? Does he want to do it again? You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t realize you’ve pulled up in front of your house until you hear Steve saying “Hellooooo. Did you hear me? I asked if you were okay with me coming in and hanging out for a while?”

“Oh. Um. Absolutely, that’s totally fine.” Both of you got out of the car and walked into your small apartment. “So uh, what did you want to do?” You weren’t sure why you were this nervous. You felt like the dynamic between you and your best friend had completely changed since the other night, yet Steve seemed perfectly normal.

“I was actually just wanting to talk to you. You know, make sure you’re doing okay? After that fight with Eddie?” Steve sat down on your small sofa and kicked his shoes off.

You sat down next to Steve, taking your shoes off as well. “Yeah, actually I’m doing a lot better. He hasn’t called since the fight which helps too. I’ve still thought about calling him though.”

Steve just stares at you. You recognize the look on his face as the same one from the other night. The look right before you kissed you. You’re trying not to get your hopes up that it’ll happen again, but your heart is beating a thousand beats per minute. Finally, he says “Look, I hate seeing you like this. I know you two were together for a long time, but he doesn’t deserve you. He never has. He took you completely for granted.”

You weren’t sure what to say. Steve continued, inching closer to you, “I guess I just don’t see what’s so great about Eddie.” He placed his hand on top of your thigh and slowly inched his other hand along the tops of your shoulder. He said what he’d been thinking about the other night. “I bet I could make you feel better than he ever did.” Steve tilted your head up once again and kissed your lips. Rougher than the first time, but still tender. He didn’t pull away this time. 

You reached up to grab his face in your hands, kissing him with more force. Steve took hold of your hips, pulling you onto his lap before running his hands through your hair. The two of you were holding so tightly onto each other it was almost painful.

You were the first to pull away, gasping for breath. “Are we… is this…” the words died on your lips as you noticed the way Steve was looking at you with lust filled eyes.

“It’s okay. Let me make you feel good. Let me make you forget about him.” Steve lifted you up and sat you down on the couch, pushing your legs open so he could kneel between them. He peppered kisses from your neck to the top of your jeans. He began unbuttoning your pants and slipping them off of you as he looked up at you through his long lashes. He pulled down your panties and tossed them to the side before trailing his fingers around your swollen clit.

You almost couldn’t believe what was happening. Steve Harrington, your best friend, was on his knees with his face dangerously close to your core. Steve Harrington was rubbing circles on your sensitive bud. You threw your head back and let your moans escape.

“That’s it, baby.” Steve continued rubbing circles as he leaned forward and inserted his tongue inside your soaking hole. Your hands flew down to grab and pull at his hair and he hummed in response sending vibrations throughout your body.

You almost couldn’t take it anymore, you had to have him now. You were too impatient, too needy, for something you didn’t even know you wanted until right now. “Steve.” you breathed as you pulled him back up to you, foreheads touching.

“Shh.” Steve unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down just enough to release his hard cock. He kissed you one last time, letting his lips linger on yours as he lined himself up with your entrance.

He pushed himself into you slowly, gently, taking his time and relishing the feeling of your walls clenching around him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, moaning into his ear. “God, you feel amazing. I bet I feel better than him.” He said it with a sneer as he pumped in and out of you. You couldn’t respond, you just continued to moan. “Mhm, that’s what I thought.” 

Steve leaned back and started rubbing circles around your clit. You almost couldn’t hold yourself together any longer. The tension that had been building in your stomach was about to explode. “Steve, I- I’m gonna come.” You managed to breathe out in between your moans.

“Come for me, baby, come on.” Steve’s thrusts grow faster as you reach your climax. He puts his hands on your face, the pads of his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks as you come down from your high. “That’s it, sweetheart.” 

He bends forward to kiss your forehead before moving his hands to your hips, gripping them a little too hard. His thrusts grow more erratic as his own climax nears. Steve’s mouth grazes your ear as he continues to pump in and out of you. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.” He almost can’t hold himself together any longer. He pumps one last time before pulling out and shooting thick white ropes onto your stomach. He slumps forward laying next to your side and runs his hands through his hair. 

Steve stands up and pulls his jeans back up. He takes his shirt off and wipes your stomach clean before sitting on the couch next to you and pulling you towards him. With your head resting on his chest, you say, “Wow. I…wow.”

You can feel his eyes looking down on you as he brushes his hand through your hair. “I know. I’ve been thinking about you since the other night.”

You nuzzled tighter into his chest, “Do you want to stay the night?”

He chuckles as he picks you up and begins carrying you to your room. “Of course, babe.” He lays you down on your bed and slips under the blankets with you, pulling you to his chest once more. You feel so at home cuddled into Steve’s chest.

“So tired, Steve.” You mumble as your eyes begin to close.

“That’s alright baby, get some rest. We can talk in the morning.”

As you start to drift to sleep you can hear Steve say, “So, did you forget about Eddie?”

[icejjfishesz]

004. ༺BUT WITH EASE༻∘

a/n: OH MY GOD i feel so awkward abt this chapter lmaooo...probably gonna delete later. probably offensive.

summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.

contents: reader is (still) down bad. paige pining after an ex situationship. kinda angsty. smut (oh lord).

previous. next. masterlist.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

paige was being weird. and maybe you didn’t know her well enough to decipher that with certainty but you just knew. she didn’t knock on your door to beg for some of your snacks or inform you she was going to shower or to ask if you wanted to watch a movie with her anymore. she didn’t tell you goodmorning or goodnight…she didn’t tell you much of anything, really. in other words, paige was being fucking weird. 

it probably definitely shouldn’t bother you. after all, she’s your roommate and she has that thing with olivia. but it’s fucking killing you. slowly, from the inside out. 

TO: SEAN

i think my roommate hates me idk

FROM: SEAN

The sexy roommate that you want so bad? 

TO: SEAN

SHUT UP

her name is paige

FROM: SEAN

I know

The basketball player

Why does Paige hate us?

TO: SEAN

idfk

she’s just being weird

FROM: SEAN

Maybe you’re being weird…

Always staring at her and shit

She’s probably terrified for her life😬

TO: SEAN

u r a really bad person

FROM: SEAN

Remind me why you can’t just flirt with her again?

TO: SEAN

cause she’s dating someone

kind of

they’re weird

FROM: SEAN

So they’re weird

She’s weird

But you still want her?

TO: SEAN

real bad

FROM: SEAN

Oh lord

How serious is she with the girl she’s dating(?)?

you start to type a message back and then you see her. 

in a sports bra and shorts.

damn. 

you try not to stare at her perfectly lean stomach or her toned legs or her back or –– you’re staring. the moment you realize it you’re looking down at your blanket, pulling at the loose strings.

should you say something? would it be awkward to say something…? it’s awkward saying nothing though. before you had enough time to change your mind you cleared your throat and whispered. “hey…”

if the house wasn’t so silent she might not have even heard you.

“hi.” she muttered in response, back and shoulders tensing, doing nothing to soothe your nerves.

weird. weird. weird.

“um, i’m watching a movie…” you clear your throat, trying not to be obviously nervous. “do you wanna watch?”

paige turns around, sighing and shoulders relaxing. “why not?” she shuffles over next to you, plopping down on the couch. she smells fucking good. she sits close enough so that your arms and legs are touching, she doesn’t move for distance and neither do you.

you look over at her, noticing the way her eyes are glued to the screen. “are…are you okay?”

“i’m fine.”

“you sure? cause you’ve been acting off the past week…”

“it’s nothing…” she dismisses again. this time, you don’t push for more information, deciding that no matter how unbelievable they may be, you’d take her words at face value.

you nod and the two of you watch the movie in silence for about twenty more minutes before paige asks a question that makes you heart stop beating for a moment.

“how many girls have you been with?”

you immediately look over at her only to find her eyes trained directly on you. your eyes flutter a few times, as if trying to blink away the question. “...what?”

“sorry…that’s probably inappropriate to ask but i guess i’m just curious.” she looks ashamed and turns back over to watch the movie as her face turns red. 

“five.” you mumble after a few seconds.

she looks at you again, silently. you feel like all the breath is getting sucked out of your lungs a little more every second she doesn’t say anything. 

“olivia ended things with me. for real this time.” paige whispers like it’s a secret only meant for you to hear. you aren’t exactly sure why she’s telling you this…and you definitely aren’t sure why that makes you feel a bit giddy.

“oh…i’m ––– ” ecstatic. “sorry. that must suck. i know you said you didn’t love her but i’m sure you care about her deeply regardless.”

“i did.” past tense. eye contact. that slow, sultry voice. you feel like you’re drowning in her.

you remain silent, not sure of why her words bring you so much pause. 

“you wanna know why she ended things with me?” she moved fucking closer. her hand brushing up against your thigh and that causes the rational part of your brain –– the part that would tell you things like ‘no it’s too soon’, ‘she just ended things with olivia’, and ‘this isn’t how you wanted this to happen’ –– to shut off completely, only leaving you shuttering and nodding.

“cause she thinks i’m attracted to you.”

oh.

paige slowly trails her hand down to rest on your knee and you’ve never felt so stiff. “she isn’t wrong.”

there she goes with that warm, tempting and inviting voice again. before you even have time to react, she kisses you. you go from surprised to melting within seconds. it’s so natural pathetic how quickly you open your lips so her tongue can sweep in and steal what small fraction of sanity you had left. you couldn’t help it –– you actually moaned into her mouth as one of her hands slid down your body, gripping your waist just enough to pull you to her. both your hands come up and grab onto her shoulders so that you don’t sag to the ground from the pure intensity of it all. this is not the kiss you wanted…but you’ve pined after her for long enough that you forget to care. that’s a problem for future you. 

she pushed you down, separating her lips from yours so that she could position herself above you. you stretched your thighs to make room for her. you blink and clear you throat. “wait…wait –– ”

she immediately pulls away and stares at you. 

“this isn’t a good idea…you just got out of a relationship.”

“it wasn’t technically a relationship.”

paige mutters defensively and you have to physically restrain your eyes from rolling. “you know what i mean.”

“i want you.” she whispers, leaning back into you, hovering her lips over yours and it’s pure temptation. “i’ve wanted you ever since i moved in here…now i don’t have to feel guilty about it…”

“i know you want me too. i’ve seen how you stare at me…just let me have you.” she practically whimpers and you shudder. “it won’t change anything…”

you can’t help but think of all the reasons why saying yes would be a bad idea…you think of every bad reason and then some and ignore them all. “okay…” 

she smirked, wasting no time to rid you of your shirt, sucking in a deep breath when she sees you’re not wearing a bra. for a moment…she just stared. it made you feel awkward enough that you reached up to cover your face, she immediately pulled your hands away from your face, giving you a stern look.

“don’t do that.” she huffs. “lemme see you.”

when you nod, she cups your tits and kisses you again. when you tug at your pants, tossing them somewhere to the floor, she pulls back to stare at you again. 

“you’re so beautiful…” she whispers softly, she trails her hand down to your underwear, groaning at how soft and warm and wet you were. she reaches her hand inside and you gasp at the feeling of her fingers brushing against you. your whole body tenses.

she starts off so slow, so gentle. “harder. please.”

paige snickers at your politeness. “well, since you said please.” she teases and you roll your eyes.

“shut up––” your words are cut off by a moan when she applies more pressure to your clit. 

she laughs again and smirks triumphantly. “you were saying?”

“you’re awful…” you moan. “i...hate you.”

“yeah? your body’s telling me something different, baby.” baby. you moan again. “look at how wet you are, how your legs are shaking…the way you’re moaning for me. you do all this for someone you hate?”

you don’t respond. you can’t. cause she’s speeding up, increasing the pressure. it’s not enough too much. “don’t stop.” and you’re so embarrassed at how quickly she’s gonna get there but you can’t do anything except keep moaning as orgasm washes over you.

she rides it out for you, slowly pulling her hand out of your pants as you try and catch your breath. afterwards you reach for her shorts and shimmy her out of them. this time, she freezes. 

“you okay?” you pant, chest heaving from the afterglow. “is it too much?”

“no, no it’s not that it’s just –– i, uh…olivia didn’t really like to give, i guess?”

you look at her in disbelief. “wait…like, never?”

paige shakes her head and you bite you lip. “well that’s a fucking shame…you gonna let me rectify that?”

she swallows thickly and nods. you guide her to lay back, once her back is against the couch she lets you take off her underwear and she slowly spreads her legs. she’s so wet. it shocks you for a second. 

“don’t start.” she rolls her eyes when you smirk up at her after you get a good look at the evidence of her arousal. “do i need to remind you how –– ”

you lick a long stripe from her entrance and she immediately stops talking. “oh, so that’s how i shut you up…” you tease but she’s too distracted to respond.

you continue your movement, only stopping to suck her clit which causes her to shift away from your mouth on reflex but you’re persistent, keeping your mouth on her despite all your movements. 

she’s moaning, a mixture of your name and pleas and the sounds she makes are addicting. you don’t stop until she’s trembling, physically pulling you away. you lick your lips and she shuts her eyes, trying to catch her breath.

“come here…” paige whispers and you obey immediately, she kisses you –– sloppy and tired and then she wraps her arms around your frame.

she’s so warm and intoxicating, and you try not to let yourself think of the consequences this would have. Especially not when she falls asleep clinging onto you. you allow your eyes to shut with a silent, daunting acknowledgement…this would change everything.

[thats-my-passion-right-there]

More tag rants!!!!!!

I finally saw the mean girls musical (the movie one) I have so many fucking thoughts oh my god

[livwritesstuff]

uh so i was feeling like writing something angsty and ever since i wrote this a little bit ago i can’t stop thinking about the idea of what the upside down coming back decades later would look like, however it’s a bummer and not the vibe i want for my steddie!dads verse so consider this an au for an au or whatever idk

It’s a normal, average, mundane, regular Wednesday when Dustin calls.

They don’t talk as much as they used to, but that’s adult life, Steve supposes. 

They both have entire lives now, spouses and children and jobs that consume pretty much every waking hour. The near-1000 miles that separates Steve and Eddie in Massachusetts from Dustin in Indiana doesn’t help things either, and seeing as how Dustin had long-since inherited the Hawkins Lab research from Owens when he retired back in the mid-2000s, that won’t be changing any time soon.

Steve is home when Dustin calls, and between counseling clients, so when the phone rings and lights up with his name, Steve picks it up with a grin.

“Hey man, what’s goin’ on!”

Nothing but silence comes through Dustin’s end for a while – such a long time that Steve checks to make sure that the call didn’t drop or his phone didn’t die or something (and neither had happened, so it’s definitely a Dustin thing).

“Dustin?” he asks, “You there?”

Silence, still.

Then –

“Steve.”

Dustin sounds…not normal, and Steve feels the grin slide off his face.

“What?”

“Steve,” he chokes, “It’s…it’s back.”

Steve feels his heart stop for a second, feels it like all the blood in his veins came to an abrupt halt for just a moment.

“The Upside Down,” Dustin continues, “It…all of…it’s back.”

He sounds like he’s underwater, or maybe Steve’s the one sinking beneath the surface, just like he’d done forty years ago when he’d taken Dustin’s place on that boat and got dragged into hell through the depths of Lover’s Lake.

Steve hangs up the phone, his hands shaking.

His knees feel shaky too, like they can’t support his weight anymore despite doing so for nearly sixty years.

They’ve been giving him problems lately – his knees. Nothing too crazy; he can still go on his runs and putter around the yard and all that. It’s just a part of aging, he supposes, and he hadn’t minded aging before – liked it, even. Liked his greying hair and the crow’s feet around his eyes and his achy knees, because there’d been a period of time many years ago when he wasn’t sure he’d make it long enough to experience that inevitability of life.

Right this second though, he hates it, hates the way it makes him realize he’s not as nimble as he used to be, the way his reaction time isn’t the same anymore, because he knows that’s what had gotten him through those horrible years back in the mid-eighties.

He lowers himself down, and as his ass hits the tile floor of the bathroom – his daughters’ bathroom, the one they’ve shared practically their whole lives, the one Moe lost her first tooth in, the one Robbie pierced her own ears in, the one Hazel will be getting ready for prom in soon – Dustin calls him again.Steve doesn’t pick up, too busy kicking himself for not considering sooner the possibility of this sooner, for not having a plan ready to execute to keep their daughters safe the way no adult had done for him.

He can feel an old instinct – the urge to gather his loved ones close – starting to kick in, his mind starting to race as he catalogs the people who make up his small corner of the world. 

Hazel is easy – she’s at the high school just down the road. He can have her back home, back within arm’s reach, in a matter of minutes.

Robin and Nancy are next closest, still living in Boston after all these years. Steve would wager a guess that they’ll be hearing from Dustin soon if they haven’t already, and then they’ll probably head Steve and Eddie’s way, and then they’ll all regroup. 

They’ll figure out what their next moves are.

Moe and Robbie are trickier with both of them living in New York City and likely unwilling to leave their school and their jobs and their friends without any warning whatsoever. Moe is getting more and more reasonable the older she gets, so Steve may have to start with her and hope that Robbie follows.

Moe is twenty-two now. 

Moe is older than both of her dads had been when Eddie had nearly died, when Steve had carried him out of hell and made sure he didn’t. All three of their daughters – even seventeen-year-old Hazel – are older than Steve had been when he got sucked into that horrible mess, and they’re still so damn young. 

With two decades of parenting under his belt, he finds it kind of unbelievable that anybody had looked at his sixteen-year-old face and seen anything but a child, nevermind actually asked him to do the things that he’d done.

Dustin calls him two more times before he gives up. Only a moment later, Steve hears Eddie’s phone ring downstairs, and then he hears Eddie’s jovial tone as he answers the call. 

He goes quiet real quick after that.

Just as Steve is deciding who to call first – Hazel’s school or Moe – his phone vibrates, two quick buzzes that can only indicate a text from Robin.

He opens it.

did dustin call you?

Steve lets out a heavy breath because, fuck, it’s real.

Yeah, he texts back, then adds –

This fucking sucks

40 years

As Steve watches the bubbles of Robin’s incoming response, he can vaguely hear Eddie’s ascent of the stairs, still on the phone with Dustin. 

The bubbles disappear.

“Fuck you, Dustin,” he hears Eddie snarl, “This is on you.” There’s silence for a while, and Eddie seems to pause in the hallway just in front of their bedroom door. Then, “Yeah, I’ll talk to him…I know…later, man. Love you. Be safe.”

Steve looks down at his phone to see that Robin is still typing, only for the bubbles to disappear again a second later.

Finally –

nance is going back

i’m going with her

Steve could throw up.

He almost does, he’s pretty sure, although he’s not positive because he might be having an out of body experience, or maybe he’s dissociating, or maybe it’s a fucking PTSD flashback or something. He doesn’t know.

He should know, or so his handful of psych degrees would suggest, and he probably would know if it was happening to someone else, but then again, he’s always worn blinders when it comes to himself.

That was true about him when all this shit started in 1983, and it’s still true now, almost forty years later.

Forty fucking years.

He doesn’t look up when Eddie comes into the bathroom, joining him on the floor with his back against the bathtub.

“Dustin took offense to you hanging up on him,” he says, and Steve can hear the way he’s forcing humor into his tone.

As if any of this shit is funny.

“Erica and the kids left with Claudia,” Eddie continues, answering a question Steve probably would’ve gotten around to asking Dustin himself if it weren’t for the whole hanging up on him thing, “Erica went kicking and screaming, obviously. I offered up our house, but they’re still deciding where they want to camp out. And everyone has agreed not to say a word to Jim and Joyce.”

Yeah, that makes sense, seeing as they’re both in their eighties and perpetually acting like they’re thirty years younger – at a minimum.

Not that Steve would know anything about that.

Definitely not.

“He said he’s one-hundred percent positive that it’s all still contained to Hawkins, so…” Eddie pauses, “We don’t have to, like, track down the girls or anything. Just make sure they don’t go anywhere near Indiana.”

And that, at least, is an actual relief.

“Robin’s going back,” Steve tells him, because there’s no point waiting to address that particular issue in this whole fucking mess.

The so I’m going too is implied, because that has never needed to be said when it came to Steve and Robin.

The way Eddie’s face changes evades Steve’s ability to describe. It makes him regret saying anything – that’s for fucking sure. Makes him wish he’d just snuck away in the dead of night.

“C’mon man, we’ve picked up a whole fuckin’ litter over the years,” Eddie says, and he’s still forcing humor into his tone, “You can’t leave me to fend off the masses alone – the years have made me weak-willed, I’ll surrender immediately.”

Steve manages a snort, but he still looks down at the floor all the same.

Eddie doesn’t say anything else for a while, but his hand wraps around Steve’s ankle as if there was enough brute strength in the one appendage to keep him rooted to the bathroom floor.

(Strangely enough, it feels like there might be).

“Steve,” Eddie finally says, his voice stiff and hard in a way Steve doesn’t think he’s ever heard before, “We are way too old for this shit – Robin and Nance too.”

Eddie pauses.

“Steve,” he says again, “I know how important Robin is. I know, but our children would be fucking devastated if anything happened to you. Don’t think they wouldn’t – and something would most certainly happen to you.”

“Eddie.” 

He’s still avoiding his husband’s eyes.

“Steve,” he pleads, something desperate in his voice, “We talked about this. Remember? Last spring, when we watched that stupid zombie show with Hazel? And there was the episode with the old gay guys? We talked about this. You told me not to let you go if this shit came back.”

Steve makes no response. Ed lets out a heavy breath, looking to the ceiling.

They have this conversation every now and then – one of those conversations that always teeters on the edge of an argument – in which Eddie insists that Steve could be fine if their relationship ended in a way that Eddie himself would not. It’s a conversation that Steve hates, because he hates the idea that Eddie – his husband of twenty years and the love of his whole entire life – could still be thinking so low of himself, that there’s any part of him that doesn’t think Steve would be fucking wrecked by losing him.

Still, it had always been a hypothetical. It had never been real.

Suddenly, Steve feels claustrophobic sitting on the floor of his daughters’ bathroom. He gets to his feet and, as he heads for the door, Eddie scrambles up after him.

Halfway down the hall, Eddie lunges for him and catches his arm, wheeling him back around to face him.

“Steve,” Eddie says one more time. 

Then, because he apparently has no words ready to follow with, he stops.

“Steve,” Eddie starts again, “Please. You’re everything. I love the girls and I love our life, but Christ, Steve, you’re my entire world. You changed everything for me. You showed me how life could be worth living, and you keep showing me, and I’m not ready to let go of you yet – not even fucking close. Please don’t let this be the way we leave each other.”

Steve finally lets himself look at Eddie’s face, the face he’d fallen in love with decades ago, the face he’s still in love with decades later. He looks at his big eyes and the hint of grey at his hairline and his crows feet and the scarring that creeps up his neck from underneath the collar of his shirt (it’s a shirt he’s had for ages – since before even Moe was born by the looks of it, but so is the rest of his half of their closet).

And he finds himself nodding.

Eddie’s exhale is all desperate relief as he tugs Steve into his arms and wraps them around his shoulders. Steve immediately reciprocates the hug, pulling him in even closer, surprised to feel tears pin-pricking his eyes

“I love you so much, Steve,” Eddie tells him, gripping the back of his t-shirt so tight he feels the collar pulling taut against his throat, “I don’t say that to you enough.”

“You say it all the time,” Steve replies with a wet laugh.

“Not enough,” he shakes his head, and Steve decides there’s no point in arguing.

A minute goes by.

“Fuck,” Steve half-laughs, half-chokes as he lifts his head to meet Eddie’s eyes, “This fucking sucks.”

“I know,” he says. 

Again, he reels Steve in, and again, Steve lets him, holding onto his husband like a lifeline, like they’re standing somewhere far more perilous than the carpeted floor of their upstairs hallway.

“I know,” Eddie repeats, “And we’ll…we’ll talk about it but for now, just – can I just hold you for a bit, okay?”

Steve nods again.

“Okay.”

read the extended version on AO3 (i.e. feat. added “flashbacks” so it fits the formatting of the rest of the series)

[yaksha-lover]

Hey! How are you doing? I don’t know how dark you’re willing to go, but the angst brainrot is back and I guess I just need somewhere to ramble.

Sometimes I like to think about how the prefect’s super chill reactions to… well everything, could just be a carefully crafted facade. I mean, the students at NRC are kinda awful people, and I don’t doubt any weakness would be swarmed like vultures to a fresh corpse. And a magicless, naive person like Yuu would be an extremely easy target. So, instead they just bury all the pain and pretend everything is okay. They’re not crying for their family and home late into the night.

The way that kind of repression would just build up over the year and slowly cause resentment towards everyone, deserved or not, is just delicious. Pretending to be everyone’s friend, to be the kind and welcoming prefect while coming to hate the other students’ guts. The eventual snap after one misplaced comment or one more mess to deal with, when the house of cards all falls down.

Maybe Rollo was right.

Idk, just got a lot of thoughts. Mainly based off of how Rook calls the prefect “Trickster” and the prologue almost framed Yuu in a strategist role. Thoughts?

Honestly, it would make a lot of sense. As much as we love the boys, most of them would be pretty terrible to be around and are very selfish and/or mean (with some exceptions, but that’s still a good majority of the school).

I like the idea that Yuu does start out genuinely wanting to help everyone and find people to be friends with, to try and make this experience of being trapped in another world even somewhat bearable.

At first it’s okay that Ace is a jerk sometimes, because he comes around once you get to know him. It’s fine that Riddle nitpicks and punishes the three of you because in the end, he’s trying his best to get better, to heal from his past. It’s alright that Leona is unrepentant and mean, because he has things he’s been dealing with, and you need to be understanding of his pain. Even when Azul tricks your friends and later you, when you almost lose your Ramshackle, the one place you’ve had to call home, you try to have patience, because he’s got his own issues as well, he has his reasons for things.

But somewhere along the way, you’ve stopped caring for their excuses. Their trauma is real, but so is yours. Even after everything you’ve done to try and help them, you don’t doubt for a moment that none of them would run to your rescue. That they wouldn’t take any opportunity to step on and over you if it meant getting closer to their goals. Because at the end of the day, none of them cared, no matter how much you wanted to believe it wasn’t true.

Breaking down isn’t an option - not when everyone is out for themselves, when your feelings would surely only be ridiculed at best and taken advantage of at worst. Even more than that, you’re a guest at this school. You never earned your way here like the other students and you’re magicless; the only reason you’re even here are extenuating circumstances. The headmage isn’t any more loyal than the housewardens - if any of them had a problem with you, it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine he’d throw you out onto the street the second you became an inconvenience that was too much work to handle. So you keep quiet, even when all you want is to tell off everyone around you.

The only housewarden to ever seem to really give a damn about you is Vil, but by the time you get close with him, it’s already too late. Maybe if you met him first, if you’d been less scorned, you could’ve forgiven his little digs at your lacklustre presence and imperfection. He’d done much to try and make up for it after all, helping you out with Ramshackle and voicing his appreciation for you. It was more than you could say for anyone else, but it still isn’t enough. Vil’s sweetness can’t counteract the bitter taste that’s been brewing for months, so you can’t bring yourself to forgive him despite everything.

It’s not his fault, but it’s never anyone’s fault. It’s all of them, chipping away at your sanity little by little.

It’s okay that you can never fall asleep anymore, kept awake by memories of never ending fights and catastrophes to deal with. It’s okay that the same people you’ve helped barely regard you as more than something worth pitying. It’s okay that you’re reminded every day that no effort is being put towards getting you away from this hellhole and back home.

It’s all okay, until it’s not. Until Yuu finally reaches their breaking point, and starts to question if anyone is truly worth saving at this school.

[vintagemulti]

shards and splinters

parings: marc spector x reader , steven grant x reader

desc: apparently what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. now you’ve died and returned alive, perhaps it’s time to test that theory; or risk losing your life once and for all.

warnings: blood, angst, swearing, fighting, guns and gun violence, death descriptions, long as fuck, sex mentions i guess(? if you squint), hurt/comfort, gory i guess (jake🤷🏻‍♀️) writers note: idk how accurate these are bc i’ve been writing this on and off for years but cover all bases i guess xx

a/n: psa to pls reblog anyway she’s BAAAAAACKKK did you miss me ?? i missed youse … if there’s even a moonknight fandom anymore 🫣 i’m so sorry for the 2 years gone from the face of tumblr, i’ve quite honestly had two years from hell and insane writers block so. can anyone even remember this series?? idk maybe you should all reread the first parts 👀👀 anyways. there’ll be one more part to this (will it come this year? next? 2026? who knows…) bc i HATED my original ending and just had to change it. also sorry if this feels rushed or like it jumps around a lot, it’s been written over YEARS, but i’ve tried my best for continuity. also, i know there’s a lot missing in like fight scenes but they are BORING and i hate writing em so i’m not doing it. tried, got half way thru then didn’t touch this for 7 months so.. it’s no fight scene or no part at all. but my last part is pretty much done so hopefully it’ll be posted soon! ill let youse savour this for a while tho lol. on a real note thank you all SO much for all the love, even two years later. it means the world. all my love, all the time x

series masterlist

masterlist

the air felt different now. it was funny; you and marc had been apart hundreds, if not thousands of times, but he had never felt your absence. not like this. no, never like this. it was different now because he knew he could look for you everywhere and you would still be in that room, not breathing, not living.

he could see it all so clearly now. all of what? all of it. everything; life, your life, his life, where everything went wrong, what he should have done, should have said, how he could have saved you.

there was nothing you could have done, marc.

“that’s easy for you to say.” he mumbled, looking down at his hands. “you’re not the one who was halfway through a fucking argument when harrow took her. and if you can remember, harrow took her because of me.”

steven sighed, and went quiet.

“i should’ve died on that fucking alter.”

marc said it over and over, like a prayer, to go back in time and pull the trigger. he was fuck knows where, it looked like the middle of the desert but marc didn’t care enough to question it.

he had walked out of that pyramid and kept on walking - for hours. the hot egyptian sun had began to set, casting a rosy hue on everything. the humidity make marc’s head ache.

steven had gone silent - a small hum of anger in the back of marc’s head. it usually would have surprised marc, for steven to be the angry one. but he wasn’t sure he would never feel surprised again.

are you going to wallow here forever?

marc looked up, low sun glinting in his eyes, making him squint. but he could tell exactly who it was - crescent staff in his peripheral.

“fuck off.”

khonshu laughed. that’s one way to talk to a god.

“fuck off.” he repeated.

and why should i, mortal? why should i listen to you?

“you did this.” it was stiff, cold, a definite statement. “you did this to us.”

khonshu groaned, moving to block the sun from marc’s eyes so he could see him properly. aren’t you going to question how i am here?

“no.”

perhaps you should.

marc could never cope with khonshu’s riddles. they had always infuriated him - never getting a straight answer. but this one, he could tolerate.

“fuck does that mean?” he was looking directly into khonshu’s eyes now - something he had readily avoided for years. “and don’t give me any of your goddamn riddles.”

if you must be so blunt, it would seem like osiris has taken a liking to your poor lady wife. hathor isn’t half fond of her, either. maybe you ought to go back to the pyramid, something tells me your needed.

and he was gone. disappeared with a gust of wind, leaving marc alone in the saharan sunset, shaking and still covered in his wife’s blood.

she’s alive?

“i-” marc looked around. “i don’t-”

his eyes slipped into the back of his head.

steven took a deep breath, swallowing hard. he set off in a run - towards the pyramid.

-

“this feels so fucking weird.”

you were pressed flat against the wall, peeking around every few seconds to make sure one of harrow’s followers wasn’t coming your way.

i must admit, it’s been a while since i’ve had an avatar.

you let out a breathy laugh. was that your first ever laugh since being revived? you supposed it must be. oh, you wished it was one of steven’s jokes you were laughing at instead.

you didn’t think you’d ever find one of his jokes unfunny again.

“where is he?”

it’s hard to tell. i can’t check, unless i’d like ammit to spot me.

humming, you looked around the corner once again, breath hitching when you saw a shadow come closer.

what made your breath stop completely, however, was the slow, melodic tapping of a cane, following every footstep the person took.

harrow was less than two feet away from you.

swallowing hard, you pushed yourself against the wall even harder, back cold against the concrete. you hoped - prayed with your newfound faith in osiris and his mercy - that harrow would turn back the other way, not hearing your thumping heart.

but your luck had ran out for this lifetime.

the tapping of the cane became louder, until you could see the tip of it in your peripheral, crunching glass finally becoming audible. he was about to come around the corner, and see you. you would be impossible to miss, even the bright red of your new outfit making you stand out.

it seemed like it was impossible to escape harrow, and the tapping of his cane. he had killed you once, what would stop him from doing it again?

apparently, a guardian angel. someone spoke, making harrow turn to look behind him.

this was your chance - to slip away and turn the opposite corner, escape harrow in your new life as you couldn’t in your last.

his voice made you flinch. cool, charming, low. like a snake - exactly like a snake, now you thought about it. the way he slid through life, from the bar all those years ago, to now, awakening a centuries old god, aiming to destroy the world.

you could slither away too, though.

still holding your breath, you sidestepped along the wall, making sure to watch your step over any lose stones, until the wall fell away behind you and led you into another corridor.

as soon as the light from the hall had faded, you let out your breath, hands coming to your forehead and rubbing your eyes.

we have to keep moving. ammit is almost ready to begin.

nodding - although it felt like your brain was rattling around your skull - you looked back up and saw hathor, still looking as beautiful as ever.

this hallway was much dimmer than the last. colder, too. it was like all the light had been blocked, the only thing keeping your vision was the small, fading candles lining the walls every meter or so.

perhaps it was your natural instinct, or a new given sense as an avatar, but you could tell - something wasn’t right. something in the air had shifted, on top of the hot, sticky, egyptian heat, there was something sinister.

your years as a mercenary had taught you to recognise something - blood in the air. and there was certainly blood in the air around you.

“what is harrow’s plan?”

he wants to judge people. through ammit, he believes he can rid the world of everyone bad, even if they aren’t already bad.

“so he’s playing god?” the corridor seemed to go on forever.

he would never admit it, but yes. and ammit is the perfect enabler for him, she’ll know exactly what he’s up to, but because he can give her her power back, she’ll play along.

you scoffed lightly. “harrow isn’t stupid either. he’ll know what she thinks.”

hathor shrugged, a few paces in front of you. only time will tell, my dear.

for a few minutes, the walk along the corridor was silent. the tap of your shoes echoed down the hall, breeze from your passing flickering the candles on the wall.

why did you marry him?

it stopped you in your tracks, hathor stopping too.

“what?”

marc. why did you marry him?

you stuttered for a moment, looking around as if someone would come and help you.

i don’t mean it in a rude way. i’m the goddess of love, it’s natural for me to want to know.

“well,” you paused for a moment and began walking again, slower this time. “we were young when we met, i was coming up for 18 and he was 19.”

and?

“and i knew what i had done to him.” you swallowed. “i felt fucking awful, i thought, maybe if i get to know the guy, and he’s not as much of an ass as everyone makes him out to be, it’ll make it easier for me to forgive myself.”

the corridor kept on, as if it were never ending.

“as you can tell, it didn’t work.”

he wasn’t as much of an asshole as everyone thought?

“no, he was,” you gave a dry smile. “it just so happened that assholes are my type, and i think he worked it out pretty quickly. so after only about two months of knowing each other, he asked me on a date. a real date. it was my first ever date too, god knows anton never took me out. but god, he was such a gentleman.

he picked me up, gave me flowers, wore a fucking tie. and he payed for everything, too. dinner at a four star restaurant, a movie, then out to a bar for drinks.

i knew i had fucked up when he kissed me that night.”

you regret it?

“not for a day. and that’s my mistake- i mean, i was supposed to hate him. i told myself i would hate him. so i wouldn’t feel bad about telling someone to kill him. i didn’t even know how he got out alive- he didn’t tell me about the khonshu shit until after we got married.

oh, our wedding,” you smiled again, a real one. “it was perfect. i was twenty one, marc was twenty three. we were so young. it was a small wedding, just some friends, neither of us invited our family. it was the best night of my life.

it was the night i met steven, too. i think the stress of the day must have triggered it. and that was it- there was marc, and there was steven.”

didn’t it take a while to get used to?

the corridor began to open up, getting slightly wider by the meter. still - there was no end to it in sight.

“it did and it didn’t. i knew for a while there was something happening to him, he would disappear, look confused all the time. i knew it was a matter of time until something changed. and then came steven, perfect steven.

he changed so much- it was like dating all over again. he was even more perfect than marc, stupid english accent included. but, naturally, abuthing that’s perfect must come to an end.”

hathor sighed. and it gave you the impression, just for a moment, that she already knew the whole story. that she was humouring you by letting you tell it. her sigh, sad and resigned, almost confirmed that she knew what was coming.

“the-” you stopped. your voice had broken, and your feet no longer moved. hathor continued for a few paces before looking back at you.

i understand, but if there’s any time you need to tell this, it’s now.

“you know?” you voiced your suspicions.

take into account which god i am, my dear. there is no one else i could chose, but you.

you swallowed. “what’s the point of talking about it if you already know?”

you have been born again. revived. would you like to carry this, this horrible vendetta against someone who has done nothing but love you, for the rest of your new life?

“no.”

then voice it. i can take this pain from you, if you only ask me too. i can help you.

you bit your tongue, looking down at your feet and kicking around a few of the loose rocks. hathor waited.

“the baby was supposed to be born just after my twenty-third birthday.”

a beat. hathor didn’t reply.

“but he didn’t live past twelve weeks.”

you looked back up at hathor, anxious for a reply. she didn’t give you one, only nodding.

“i don’t- i don’t know what i did. i was waiting until i could get a scan, tell marc, have it done properly, you know? but when i went to my appointment, i knew. she didn’t say anything, she just looked. then she left, got the doctor to come in.

he said that the baby had died, that they weren’t sure of the cause, but it was a boy. that my baby boy had died.”

tears threatened your eyes. never - never - had you spoken about this before. not even with marc.

“i went home, with a hatred in my heart. the next few days were the worst. i was grieving a child no one knew i even had. the blood was horrible, it hurt so badly. i told marc i was on my period. fuck, for all he knew i was.

and then my baby was gone. and i hated marc.”

why did you hate him?

you shrugged. “i have no idea. i needed someone to blame and marc was the easiest. that’s when it all went downhill, you know? i wanted him to be there for me, for something he didn’t even know happened. and when he wasn’t, i blew up at him. and he blew up at me.

and that was it, for three years. this horrible hatred towards each other, me hating marc for something he knew nothing about, and marc hating me for every other reason.

he hated me the most for making him stay a mercenary. he wanted out, he wanted a normal life in the suburbs with a dog and a big house and maybe, one day, a child.

but i can’t have that. i don’t want that kind of normal - not when i was so close to it and lost it. so i pushed him into this world. i made him take jobs and work himself to death, even when i found out about khonshu. i made him do it.

and that’s why we’re here. because i told him to follow khonshu here. and now look what i’ve done.”

hathor took two, wide steps towards you, and cradled your face in her hands.

you have done nothing that makes you inhumane. none of this mess is you fault. khonshu would have gotten marc here one way or another. anyone in your shoes would be the same.

her hands were warm. you felt a tear fall, running underneath her fingers. “but i’ve been so horrible. i’m a monster - if not for this, for everything else.”

hathor shook her head. you are a human being.

there was silence as you cried and hathor wiped your tears. at least two minutes passed - but it didn’t matter to you. harrow could come running around the corner and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

hathor took a deep breath, looking to her left along the corridor. she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, another figure appeared.

is now a bad time, human?

you flinched at the rough edge in khonshu’s voice. “what do you want?”

what do i want? there’s a long list.

even through your tears, your patience thinned. “seriously?”

hathor took her hands from your face, turning to look at khonshu. enough of your riddles. just tell her.

the unmistakable sound of footsteps, running, drew your attention. they were getting closer.

i don’t think i have to say a word, actually.

just as khonshu had finished, a figure appeared, coming around the twists and turns of the corridor.

your heart stopped.

marc looked around in a daze, eyes falling first on khonshu, then on hathor, then…

“y/n!”

just as he had stopped running, he started again, coming towards you like a lion out of his cage, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off of your feet.

“oh baby,” he mumbled into your neck.

you had just reached - wrapping your arms around him in equal tightness, hands flying into his hair. oh, god. his hair - his curls, his skin - you’d never take it for granted again.

he pulled back, hands on your cheeks in a mirror image to hathor. his eyes locked into yours, brown irises melting into his pupils, filling with tears.

marc stuttered, trying to get several sentences out at once, before you hushed him.

“please, marc, we don’t have much time. harrow is gonna-”

“i know,” he nodded, eyes still not breaking from yours. “i know- baby, i know. please- please, just give me a minute. i never- i thought i’d never- oh, baby.”

he leaned in, moving his hands out of the way to rest his forehead against yours. he was hot - sticky with sweat and dirt and, although you didnt want to think about it, your blood.

“i know,” you whispered, closing your eyes. “marc, i know.”

barely having finished your sentence, he leaned in and kissed you.

it was like the first kiss all over again, and you supposed it was. hot, needy, passionate, desperate. you could live in this moment.

but the unmistakable sound of khonshu clearing his throat broke your kiss.

if you wouldn’t mind, harrow is about to release ammit. i’m sure your couples catch-up can wait another hour.

“yeah,” you nodded, breaking away, but marc was far more hesitant to let go.

“i can’t-” he looked around, paranoid. “i can’t do this, y/n. i just lost you, i can’t run the risk of losing you again, i’ve never- y/n, i can’t let you go, you’re everything to me, and if harrow- oh god, what did harrow do to you? i swear to god, the minute i see him, i’m gonna-”

he blinked. a beat.

“paranoid git never did know when to be quiet, did he?”

“oh, steven,” you threw your arms around him again. “fucking hell.”

steven, unlike marc, seemed far more willing to let you go. “love, i know, but if we don’t go now, we’re all gonna end up dead. please, we can do this all after, yeah?”

he took your hands in his, stilling your shaking fingers. he was so warm - always so warm.

“okay,” you nodded, looking between him and the gods beside you. “okay.”

-

you had severely underestimated how far harrow was willing to go. it had been what felt like hours, an unrelenting fight. you weren’t even sure when layla showed up, hoping to help you in any way she could.

but her attempts were futile; ammit was huge. really - huge, bigger than the pyramid behind her. khonshu had, as usual, gotten involved too, so that meant he was the same size, almost trampling you with every step he took.

you had tried. really, you had. you’d tried to use your new found avatar abilities to at least land something on harrow, but truth be told, you were failing. he’d hit you far more times that you’d even aimed for him, you were covered in cuts and rapidly forming bruises, you were sure your shoulder was dislocated.

but worst of all? your head wasn’t right. you weren’t sure what was wrong with it - it seemed fine every time you focused on identifying the issue, but every time you weren’t paying attention, it was there again. dizzy, a ringing in your eyes, everything a second or two behind; your vision lagging and cloudy. but just as you’d notice it, it was gone.

it was getting worse, too. you could see marc out of the corner of your eye; he was one to one with harrow. it would have made you anxious if you could properly focus on what was going on. but you couldn’t - your thought were scattered, a ringing back tenfold in your ears, the world had gone distant and hazy.

the doctors told you it was a concussion the next morning. layla had actually came in very handy, able to translate the man’s arabic into english for you.

he had told you that you’d sustained a massive head injury - you figured it would have been investigated, if you hadn’t been one of the people there last night.

‘there’ was all people could talk about. first the sky had gone backwards (you’d missed that part, thanks to being dead), then, out of nowhere, two ancient egyptian gods had appeared, destroying all the buildings in their wake, pyramids too.

it wasn’t that you couldn’t remember it. you could - it was clear in every aspect. it just didn’t feel like you’d been there at all. even the build up to it, every moment from when you’d stepped out of that pyramid, hand in hand with steven, hot air hitting your face;

it wasn’t you.

well, obviously it was you. but it wasn’t the same you. everything felt different, you didn’t have the same emotions you did before. the same key ones, yes, like how you felt about marc, and steven, and who you are as a person, but basic thing, like fear, and compassion? it was gone.

you’d have voiced this to a doctor if you could put ‘i died and got brought back to like by an ancient god, but not the same one who destroyed half of your city last night, sorry about that, by the way’ into layman’s terms.

trauma induced dissociation was enough of a label for you. it fit - everything just felt a little hazy, was all. not that you’d asked your doctor, a google search (excluding the resurrection part) had taken you to pages and pages about dissociation and how it’s normal to feel it after a traumatic event. you were pretty sure dying was a traumatic event.

and yes, you could bring it up to your doctor, he was payed to help you, after all. but there was a strange gnawing in the back of your head: that if you voiced this feeling, it would only get worse, and the happy ending you and your husband currently had would be shred in two because you couldn’t feel properly.

so instead, you listened to his professional diagnosis; a severe concussion, fractured rib, dislocated shoulder, several cosmetic wounds, and mental trauma that would be discovered at a later point, if you ever got around to voicing it to a doctor.

what a lovely shopping list, you thought.

-

it was three days before they let you out, and marc wasn’t getting out for another two after that. you’d had to beg him to even go to the hospital in the first place, but now he was getting the medical attention he’d needed for years, he seemed content in his hospital bed. not that he’d ever admit it.

with two days to yourself (not nights, you’d go back to the hospital and stay with marc), you decided to have the egyptian holiday you had come for.

the first stop was obvious; buy clothes. all of the ones you had were either covered in blood or halfway shredded. once you’d achieved this, in a new white linen sundress (cut below the knees to hide the still raw scars), you felt just slightly lost.

of course, you weren’t lost, you were always quick to get your bearings in new places - mercenary years had left you with a few skills, after all - and you kept yourself in a fairly small area, close to the hospital in case you got an emergency call.

no - the feeling of being lost came from deep down. ever since you’d come back to life it was the same, a strange longing for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. something you felt you just had to have, maybe not right now, but in the near future. the hazy feeling had already begun to pass, you were sure google had served you well. but it left behind this in its wake, a new, even stranger feeling.

a breeze blew your hair lightly as you looked down the street in front of you. it was picturesque, all kinds of small shops and cafes as far as you could see. you could hear kids playing somewhere, a baby crying in the distance.

the lost-longing feeling piqued at this.

“oh.” you breathed. “oh.”

beside you, hathor, dressed in a golden, floor length dress and looking beautiful as ever, laughed.

oh, indeed. did you forget which god i am?