#im going to break his already broken nose

[abijahfowler]

someone come GET this diva already

[cregansdingdong]

imagine cregan and y/n breaking the bed one night just because of his sheer strength and muscle whilst pounding her, ik the conversation with the winterfell wood crafter would be awks as hell afterwards whilst asking for it to be repaired 😇😇

IM HAVING A PROPHETIC VISION, ANON.

At this point, Cregan and his boo thang are just going to have to become familiar with the man. There is no other option, because your choices are either to have this embarrassing conversation a multitude of times with multiple woodcrafters or just one. Because if y'all think this is a one-time thing, you are terribly mistaken.

Cregan is a very passionate person in bed, regardless if he's on top or not. He wants to make sure the two of you are satiated—that does mean the bed will snap like a twig under a boot i dont make the rules i just work here. Personally, I find the actual deliverance of the bedframe to be the most mortifying. Firstly, that big ass broken bed has to be dismantled and removed, if it's not fixable, which takes manpower, and then the new one brought into the Great Keep and put together. Otherwise, the woodcrafter is going to have to make a house call and show up with his tools and planks, walking toward your marital chambers which is embarrassing too :)

ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. (thoughts ver.)

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

That familiar groan under his weight should've been the first warning sign, but Cregan was too distracted to notice. He was lapping at her pretty cunt, tongue delving as deep as he could go and as thorough as he could be without the motions being too unsteady. Alright maybe he did notice initially, but the thought was very quickly shoved to the back of his mind—especially when his pretty wife was trying to rock herself onto his nose, letting out the most quiet of whimpers muffled by their sheets. His ears were focused on her and her only.

With her pearl rubbing against his bridge and his cock feeling so strained in his trousers, no one could really blame him for forgetting about the delicate state of the bed in an instant. Last time they’d gotten particularly frantic in their lovemaking, there had been a low snap somewhere beneath the mattress, a taunt that he was probably too hefty to be moving so much. But winter was coming, a man’s gotta eat…in more ways than one.

By the time he’d recalled they should begin to take it easy on the bed, he was already balls deep behind her, hands gripping the flesh of her ass like a lifeline. He was suffocating in the best way, cock nestled inside, fogging his brain with nothing but instinct. And then she started begging. By then, well, he decided they needed a new bed anyway—six moons wasn’t too bad. Lasted longer than the previous replacement. Three harsh, unrelenting spanks bloom red on her backside as she squeezes around him, sending his blood pumping to the beat of an imaginary war drum. It would be a miracle from the Gods if she wasn’t pregnant by mid-summer. Cregan just couldn’t help himself.

Rutting against her like a man starved, the right side of the bed almost completely collapses, caving in and nearly throwing him off balance. His wife gasped, pleasure momentarily halted as she looked back at him. “Again? Seriously? I told you to write to him last time, did you?” The answer was no, no he did not. “It might have…slipped…my mind.” He murmured, trying to ignore the throbbing in his full balls. They had a silent conversation of glares and a sheepish grin. Then she concedes. “...We might as well finish then. I doubt it can get any worse.”

It could, actually. And it did. He came hard some twenty minutes later, pounding their hips together with a steady desperation. The dip of the broken side was a little annoying, but manageable. Without the support, the right beams of the canopy end up falling right down. No one was harmed, of course. It was only drapes. Cregan found it almost comical but his wife did not. It was going to be a long letter.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[kakashisbabymama218]

Seven days a week: day 1

Kakashi x fem!reader.

smut, oral (fem!rec) mulitple orgasms, overstimulation, cervix fucking, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex, crying, mentions of crack (lmfao nobody smokes crack in this i promise)

*okay so this is my first time writing in almost a year, so hopefully im not too outta wack and this doesnt suck assholes.

“K-Kashiii— it’s too much… too deep” you cry out, hands pushing at Kakashi's toned stomach in a futile attempt to get him to slow down.

Kakashi ignores your cries, still pressing feather light kisses against your neck before sucking down on one of the hickeys that already cover the expanse of your neck. his pace never falters as he slams into you with so much speed and force your pushed up further and further on the bed each time his hips meet yours.

after a particularly rough mission that ended with Kakashi being hurt, lady Tsunade ordered the copy ninja to take a week off to recover and Kakashi planned to spend the entire week fucking you so good the only thought left in that pretty little head of yours was about how good his dick feels as it drags along your gummy walls.

“Shh, shh… you can take it." he murmured against your ear. "you gonna be my good girl and take every inch daddy has to offer, right?" he questions as his tip kisses your cervix over and over again, voice deep and low.

you're so fucked out at the point you don't know whether to nod or shake your head. you want to be good, you really do but you're already on your third orgasm of the night and you can barely keep your eyes open at this point. Kakashi looks like he's barely broken a sweat, damn him and his years of ninja training, his stamina being one of the things you love and hate the most about him.

“But it’s too much” you whine loudly, your walls clenching tightly around his fat cock, and he groans against your ear, hips stilling as he attempts holds himself back, wanting to drag the feeling of you walls fluttering around his dick for as long as he can, never knowing when he's going to be called away for another long mission.

he might have to go without the feeling of your tight cunt clenching down on him for days, weeks, maybe even months, so he's going to get his fill now and he doesnt care how hard you cry or how much you beg.

"just a little bit longer princess then we can take a break, just let me fuck you for a little while longer"

Kakashi pulls out until nothing but his tip his being swallowed by your greedy cunt, slamming his hips against yours and swallowing down the screams that fall from your lips.

"even after taking my dick over and over again, you're still so. fucking. tight" he grunts out the last three words, accompanying them with a sharp slam of his hips.

you're eyes flutter shut as your pushed over the edge once again, your body shaking and convulsing as your fourth orgasm rips through you. your legs wrap around Kakashi's waist, grinding clit against him as you ride out your orgasm.

"mmmpf—fuckkkk" Kakashi groans, pulling out at the very last second and wrapping his hand tightly around his dick, stopping the orgasm he knew was coming. he pushes your legs up, your feet dangling by your ears and gathers spit in his mouth.

he spits directly on your cunt, smirking to himself as he hears the guttural moan that slips past your lips. he watches as his spit drips from your clit down your slit and pools at your gaping entrance. he takes your swollen, sensitive clit into his mouth and sucks down... hard

your hands fly to his long silver strands as you push and pull at his hair, so high off the pleasure you're not sure if you want him to stop or keep going.

"K-kas...Kashi...Kashiiii" you slur, his name falling off of your lips over and over again like a mantra. Kakashi lets his tongue circle around your hole before pushing it in as deep as it'll go, his nose rubbing against your clit.

Kakashi slurps and sucks at your cunt, moaning against your puffy folds, the sweet taste of your slick on his tonuge is addictive, like crack in the 80s. (im so unserious its crazy)

he has to force his face away from your cunt when your cries get louder, more high pitched, and your grip on his hair tightens almost painfully, the telltale signs that you're close and Kakashi wants you to the two of you to cum together.

he strokes himself once, then twice before he's pushing his way past your entrance and into your gummy walls once again. it doesnt take long for his orgasm to approach once again. he brings one of his hands down and uses two of his fingers to rub fast, hard circles on your sticky clit.

a few more thrusts and you're crying out, toes curling, back arching off the bed as you cum for the fifth time, except this time your squirting on Kakashi's dick. the feeling of your slick flowing from you and onto Kakashi's length is what finally makes him cum. his thick, sticky seed paints your walls a delicious shade of white and when he eventually pulls out it drips from your pussy down to your ass and onto the soft, light blue sheets below you.

"shit" he hisses quietly, letting his forehead rest against yours, eyes glued to where the two of you connect, pushing his entire length back inside of you ignoring how sensitive he is, waiting to feel your walls wrapped around him just a little while longer.

I WROTE THIS, ME MYSELF AND I!!! dont steal my shit!!!!!

[wonbin-truther]

inspired by @diorcities imagine

chenle was stubborn and you were too, if not more. your friends always said it was a match made in hell. you two pushed and pulled against each other but it was never anything the two of you took serious. if anything chenle admired the fact you always stood your ground, backing up what you believed in, and you felt the same about him. arguments happened often but nothing had ever went this far.

"so you hate me?" your voice was low and shaky but chenle didn't pick up on it. "who said that? you're so delusional sometimes I don't even know where you get this bullshit from," chenle was practically yelling across the kitchen. you had never felt so small in your life. you tried to keep the tears at bay as you continued on, "but then why wouldn't you tell me she messaged you?"

"it's not that serious. you're being overdramatic about it."

"chenle it's your ex for fucks sake why wouldn't you tell me your ex sent you a nude," you felt a tear slip down your cheek but you quickly wiped it away. chenle let out a scoff as he watched the tears slip down your cheeks one after the other. he always knew you were stubborn, but he didn't think it was so bad you would try to guilt him by faking tears.

"i can't believe you're crying right now. what's wrong with you? i told you i blocked her right after so i don't see what your issue is. god you're so insecure sometimes," he continued to spew, eyebrows crinkled as he rolled is eyes at you. you couldn't say anything back. your vision was blurry and all you could do was stand there as you took hit after hit from him. choked sobs were the only things that left your mouth as chenle stared at you.

even if you were faking it, seeing you cry made a pit form in his stomach. yet your boyfriend was too stubborn to back down, even if it did feel as though his guts were being turned inside out. "can you stop crying already? it's not gonna work." his expression shifted as he stared at your figure. he stood and stared as your crying didn't stop and your breathing got quicker, quiet gasps leaving you as you tried to take in the smallest amount of air you could get between the tears that wracked your body. as you crumbled to the ground, knees pressed to your chest and your own arms wrapped around yourself, chenle realized you were genuine and it ate up his entire being he let it get this far.

it took his body a minute to move from the shock but he ran to where you were, crouching down in front of you. he gathered you up into his arms and held you close to his chest. you tried to push his arms away from you but he held you tighter. he knew if he were to let go this could possibly be the end and it scared him. you eventually gave in, sobbing into his chest as your breathing remained frantic and uneven. "fuck im so sorry. baby breathe with me please. slowly," chenle counted slowly as you tried to follow along with your breathing. you started to calm down and the tears subsided, turning into small sniffles. you two stayed on the floor of the kitchen in silence for a while.

chenle was the first to break the silence, "you were right. i should have told you. i'm so sorry for yelling at you and arguing."

"do you really think i'm dramatic and insecure?" your voice was low and sounded broken. it was shaky and chenle wanted to punch himself.

"i don't. i'm so so sorry. i didn't mean anything i don't know why i said any of that," chenle pulled you away to kiss the tip of your nose that was now red from your sobbing. "you're perfect. if anything i'm the dramatic one between the two of us."

"i know," you rubbed at your eyes and let out a small laugh.

"i love you. so so much. and i'm so sorry for saying all those hurtful things," chenle stood up and brought you up with him.

"i love you too. think before you speak next time though," you cupped his cheeks. he just nodded and let you pull him in for a kiss. you gasped as he pulled away, lifting you over his shoulder and carrying you into the bedroom. you giggled and lightly punched his back, "lele what're you doing?" he tossed you down onto the bed and laid down, "cuddle time and a nap. i think we need it after that."

[stevie-petey]

blurb idea? stug isn't having sex yet obviously but maybe dustin walks into bug's room while they're lying really close on her bed reading together and he flips his shit like OH MY EYES and they're like ...boy we're literally just sitting here. and steve's over for dinner and dustin refuses to look at him and claudia's like ok what's up and you're like literally nothing he's so dumb

i love dramatic dustin with stug so YES !!

enjoy <3

"so jo just rejects laurie? like, flat out, brutally rejects his marriage proposal after years of being best friends and basically already in love?"

"i mean, there are some nuances youre missing, but yeah. basically."

"what kind of sick book is this?" steve shoves the book away from him in disdain. his nose is scrunched up, offended, and you refrain from kissing it all better.

you fix a piece of hair thats fallen in his face as he lays next to you on your bed. "jo and laurie are tragic, i'll admit." your words are rough from reading for hours. steve always insists that you read the books for him, he claims youre better at it, but you know its because he loves the sound of your voice. "but its what makes the book so wonderful, dont you think?"

steve rolls his eyes at you. "your obsession with tragic romances concerns me. what, are you going to reject my proposal next? make me beg on my hands and knees for you?"

"technically you already did beg on your hands and knees for me-"

"wait, you didnt say youd accept my proposal."

with a sly laugh you clear your throat and bring the book back up to your face, continuing to read. steve stares at you as you read the heartbreaking words aloud, his eyes travel the length of your neck and the slope of your nose. the scene youre reading breaks his heart more than hed care to admit. youve been reading little women to steve for a few weeks now. he really thought itd be jo and laurie in the end.

lost in the way you voice lilts between jos soft rejection and lauries broken pleads, neither you nor steve hear dustin calling for you until its too late.

the boy barges into your room and nearly shrieks his head off when he realizes steve is in bed with you. "my eyes!" he cowers to close the door, covering his face with his grubby little hands.

"dustin!" you shout at him, throwing a pillow at him to shut up him. hes being dramatic, you and steve werent even doing anything. your boyfriend is lying next to you while you read him a long and horrendous breakup scene from a classic book. if anything, the two of you should be doing literally anything else.

steve rolls off your bed and lands on his feet in one fluid motion before running over to your brother. grabbing dustins shoulders, he shakes him to try and stop the screaming. "hey! alright, can you quit it?"

"no! you were-you-my eyes!" dustin scrubs at his face with utter turmoil. he hadnt even known that steve was in his house. normally the asshole makes his presence known, stops by dustins room to say hi. its why he barged in in the first place.

had dustin known hed walk into steve in your bed, he wouldve brought a goddamn flame thrower with him instead.

"we were reading, you moron!" youre next to steve now, desperately trying to quiet your brother before your mom asks whats going on. hes already bad enough, but if your mother finds out steve had been in your bed as well, thered be permanent hearing loss.

"read at your desk! thats what those damn things are built for!"

steve shoves his hand through his hair, agitated. "oh, and who are you? the desk police?"

"'desk police'?" you stare at the teen, disappointed. "thats the best you could come up with?"

"im under a lot of pressure right now. cut me some slack."

"i want you dead."

both you and steve turn to dustin, shocked and disturbed by his words.

"okay, thank you for sharing your feelings, dustin." awkwardly you pat his shoulder. at least hes being honest and open with you. "not necessarily what i wanted to hear, but im proud of you for sharing-"

"he wants me dead and youre commending him?"

"not now," jamming an elbow into steves side, you shut him up and focus on your brother again. "now, is there a reason you barged in or can we go back to reading?"

dustins grimace on his face seems permanent now. his nose is slightly upturned, his eyes distrusting. narrowing them at you, he takes slow, calculated steps back out of your room. "dinner is ready," he says tersely before leaving entirely.

"well, this will be fun." steve sighs, and you nod grimly.

dinner is not fun.

dustin doesnt look steve in the eye the entire time. he sits as far away as possible from the teen. when asked to pass the bread, dustin pointedly ignores steves request and throws a roll to you. the bread nearly knocks your mothers water over and shes finally had enough.

"goodness, dusty! what has gotten into you tonight?" she exclaims, settling the glass that threatens to spill.

mouth full of mashed potatoes, his eyes light up evilly. before he can even think about opening his obnoxious mouth, you kick him underneath the table. your foot connects with his shin and dustin wheezes mashed potatoes all over his meal.

"dusty!" your mother gasps, alarmed. she looks at you in concern while steve snorts into his glass of water. "what is going on with you three?"

"nothing, mom." grabbing the bread that was thrown at you, you pick it apart with your fingers and make a delighted sound. "dinner is lovely tonight, by the way."

"i love what youve done with the mashed potatoes, mrs. henderson." steve is quick to add, jumping in. he makes a whole show of scooping up the mashed food and shoving it into his mouth, moaning in pleasure. "is there garlic in this?"

your mother, always easily distracted, claps her hands with joy. "why, yes! i wanted to try something different. do you really like it?"

"i adore it."

later that night you find yurtle the turtles mealworms underneath your pillow.

[gaoau]

would rather kms than make my only winbre post be about Suo's stupid ass, so it's time to talk about Nirei cause i love him. i read a post and my blood started boiling i dont fuck around so now i gotta defend him with my life. also cause im sick and tired of him not being deemed marketable enough to be included in merch and collab illusts when he's a whole—if not the most important—third of the main trio. (theres something to be said about Tsugeura too, considering they don't use him but love using Kiryuu, but that's a different conversation.)

anyway, on Nirei and the exceptionality of being ordinary.

manga spoilers btw also disclaimer im not eloquent at all i just say things.

there's something about Nirei that just simply isn't special and i think that's wonderful. not in a mean-spirited sense; Nirei is the most regular out of anyone in Furin, so much so that he had to buy an ugly shirt he didn't even like to stand out. he's just a kid with a notebook and a simple backstory trying to follow a hero's example. he's nothing extraordinary, especially seeing the people he's surrounded by. physically, he's very limited, which he knows and doesn't ignore at all, so he can't do much in fights. no one is more acutely aware of his own limits than Nirei. i was reading the first couple chapters again and it breaks my heart to hear his efforts be dismissed as "playing hero," because Nirei is the biggest hero in this whole manga.

it's true, yeah, he can't fight. he's more like another average citizen of Makochi than he is a Bofurin member sometimes. he lacks fighting abilities, his diplomacy isn't particularly the best, and he's two seconds away from going into cardiac arrest at almost all times. but it's not like he gives a shit. every single time he gets beaten into the ground, he picks himself back up immediately. he takes hit after hit, time and time again, because no matter how battered or defenseless he is, his drive to stay and protect the town is ridiculously strong. he does go down when he can't take any more (keel), but it's with improvement and training that he manages to throw his first—albeit useless—punch (noroshi or whatever this arc is called idk). improvement that, mind you, comes from recognizing his own limitations.

some have called him reckless (Suo), but i disagree, because Nirei is right. i know the kids would rather look out for him and have him uninjured by the end of a scuffle, but he doesn't need to be coddled. everybody else jumps into a brawl and gets a broken nose regardless of their fighting skills. Nirei isn't any different. he knows he's limited, he knows he can't fight, he knows he's nothing special. he risks it all anyway, because even though he wasn't built for fighting, he's more than prepared to try over and over again until his efforts are enough to make a difference. he's looked at Sakura's back and thought he couldn't match him, that Sakura gets back up even when he's almost fully tapped out, that he's not needed because Sakura's stronger and will be okay without him.

maybe he's right about this, too. i'm inclined to disagree, but i understand where he's coming from. Nirei chases, Nirei can't stop running because he'll fall behind all these phenomenal beasts that can hold their own. i'm so glad the conclusion he reached was "okay, i gotta step up my game," but i'm not really surprised. this is Nirei Akihiko we're talking about and, i think Suo put it best, he wants to become stronger more than anybody.

he's been at a disadvantage this whole time, "playing hero" rather than being an "actual" hero, but he has a goal. if he has to tear himself apart to stand next to Sakura, he will. he doesn't have to, of course, he's already more than useful the way he is, but when you're so ordinary that you get lost in the crowd, standing beside someone so exemplary makes you want more.

honestly, Nirei's fucking wild. lil bro's actually crazy. we've seen characters go apeshit, but no one in this entire manga is nearly as insane as he is. i appreciate Suo telling him to slow down and chill out, cause he was fully intending to kill himself learning how to fight with zero foundation. my guy was more than ready to actually fight Endo. he meant that. it's a good thing he's properly learning how to defend himself, considering he probably lacks the muscle to go on the offense. those are his limits and he knows that. it frustrates him, but it definitely does little to stop him, because look how big his back is. i hope somebody tells him, after all of this is over, that he's doing more than enough, more than great.

to be fair, fighting isn't even where he shines, and that's okay. he's not strong enough to beat anyone's ass and he doesn't need to be, either. he doesn't need to be a leader like Sakura or a devotee like Sugishita or mimic whatever the fuck Suo's got going on. in the words of my favorite pink curse, the real heroes are the ones who support from the back, and that's exactly what Nirei does. he's said it himself, he wants to guide Sakura all the way to the top and he can, because he thrives in being another citizen of Makochi. he's a regular person and i think that's what makes him so compelling and important.

there's something so fascinating about his simplicity. he really is nothing more than just an ordinary kid. put him in a normal high-school classroom and he'll pass his midterms with a 75. he recognizes what he's good at, of course, he knows the town inside out and it's very useful, especially to Sakura. he's amazing support. it really doesn't seem like it and people love to completely dismiss him, but i wanna be outrageous and call him the backbone of these kids. he was Sakura's first friend and he continues to be the one pushing and prodding to make sure he stands back up every single time. he's more necessary than anyone gives him credit for. i have no doubt in my mind that, if it weren't for him, Sakura wouldn't be able to do half the things he's managing. even Suo, who's out here acting like he knows the secrets of the universe, has to stop and reorganize his ideas when Nirei talks.

if Suo is the heart (debatable, but okay, whatever bro says) and brain, i'd like to think Nirei is the spirit and the soul. there's no chance the kids would work so smoothly without Nirei around—which, yes, arguably the same could be said of all of them, but i've seen Nirei be dismissed as a Zenitsu looking ass gag character and i've never had to hold back a kys so hard. idk for sure what the general consensus on him is cause i've only ever seen him used in the context of ships and never on his own, which honestly makes me a little sad. especially after seeing the popularity poll cause he didn't even make it into the top 5 with not even 1k points personal offense tbh i need a word with the voters. what i've gathered is that aint nobody gaf about his ass im devastated Suo has to fuck off (13k votes is crazy gang come on). which i don't understand. take him out of the equation and everything falls apart. Sakura's the sword, Suo's the strategy, and Nirei is the ambition, the desire, the force, the feelings.

there's much to be said about how he's treated, not only in-universe, but also by the people consuming the media and the pr team. i don't fuck with shipping, but when i'm scrolling through my timeline, Nirei only exists in the context of somebody's favorite ship. and don't fucking get me started on the mischaracterization. look me in the eye and tell me Nirei doesn't have more conviction than any of these dumbass kids. yes, he gets scared and he's fucking horrified most of the time, but motherfucker he's fighting. he's out there in the frontlines, making himself useful, biting more than he can chew and then some. i dare you to treat him like wittle baby that needs protection.

if not for his uniqueness, look at him for his regularity, because i find it endearingly wonderful. i think there's something so special about the ordinary. he deserves a lot more than what he's getting so these mfs better put him in all collab illusts cause if i have to see Kaji in his place one more time i will personally book a flight. okay thank you thats all i promise ill never come back here have day.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hii there is a lack of maws clark fics imo so im here asking if you could write something like waking up with him and he tries to cook breakfast but his clumsiness takes over him? anw i love your writing sm,, have a gr8 dayyy

Upon waking up to an empty, semi-cold bed that of which Clark usually occupies, followed by a series of noises coming from the kitchen, you were soon enough lured out of bed and dressed in one of Clark’s shirts and some sweats before trudging down the hallway that felt to have continuously stretched out before you and unto eternity for your poor foggy brain.

That was until you had found yourself stood at the entrance to the kitchen, where you were facing down Clark’s broad back as he threw himself headfirst into partaking in the ever so serious task everyone had to face after waking up; making breakfast. It’s cute watching Clark as he cautiously attempts to crack eggs into a pan without getting any shell remnants in the yolk, you didn’t need to get a look at his face, because you could already envision the furrow in his brows and the look of absolute concentration that would’ve been evident within his beautiful blue eyes; Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if the tip of his tongue was absentmindedly sticking out from the corner of his mouth!

You’ve told Clark time and time again that he needn’t worry about breakfast and that you’ll make it or get something while you were out, but you happen to find that Clark is a persistent man when it comes to help making life a bit easier for you, even when you didn’t necessarily need him to. You didn’t believe yourself worthy of Clark’s golden heart but yet he was the one who gifted it to you, with nothing but the sweetest smile upon his face, speckled with the crumbs of the sweets he had prior as he asks for your permission in keeping your heart safe; In regards as to where you were now, it was obvious that you responded to his confession in kind.

‘What’s cooking, handsome?’ You said, your voice cutting through the silence.

‘Ah!’ Clark exclaimed, taken aback by your suddenness but as he jolted, the egg in his careful hand was soon crushed into of bits regarding shell, egg and yolk, whereas the handle to the pan he was once holding so steadily was now easily snapped off from the rest of it; leaving the eggs that were already in the pan to cook on the hot stove without a means of getting it off safely. Clark looked like the spitting image of an upset puppy dog upon seeing how quickly his perfect breakfast suddenly become…imperfect. He just wanted to treat you for everything you’ve done for him but with his powers, even the most minuscule task was a difficultly when having to actively make an attempt in not breaking things. However he was still coming to terms with his powers, but slowly but surly he will one day have a firmer understanding over them to the point where breaking appliances and the like will become less commonplace.

‘I am…well…was in the process of making you breakfast until…well…you know.’ Clark sighed, gesturing with an arm to pathetic attempt at breakfast, his head hung low against his chest. You smiled sympathetically. ‘Hey big guy.’ You started as you walked over to him, holding his face up by the cheeks, stroking your thumbs across the skin there reassuringly, ‘no need to go beating yourself up about these things. For all things considered, it smelt so delicious that it had me getting up out of our warm bed. Which is already a feet worth celebrating.’ Clark chuckled as he burrows his face into your hands as his own took to bringing you closer to him.

‘I guess, but still I wanted to do something nice for you.’ He utters and you couldn’t help but huff. ‘You do enough for me already, Clark. We’re a team, let me help you and do my share of the heavy lifting now and then.’ You tell him, pressing a kiss to his nose, ‘but firstly we should probably clean this up.’ You pull away to gesture to the broken pan still on the stove, alongside the countertops that were a mess with empty egg cartons from Clark’s previous attempts at cracking eggs and possible pancake batter.

Clark’s embarrassed chuckle filled your ears as he was coming to terms that maybe being in the kitchen wasn’t his strong suit to begin with. ‘Yeah. I second that idea.’

[cranberryjuice-posts]

What’s my next album going to be based on? Divorce babe DIVORCE

A Gwen stacy x reader fic where they’re both spider people and they get sent on a mission by miguel but reader gets a tad bit hurt while on said mission and gwen tots freaks out

Xoxo, gossipgirl

- water color -

Pairings - Gwen Stacy x fem! Spider hero! Reader

An - im working on an Abby fic rn and finishing the final chapter to my AO3 series but the Abby fic is taking longer than expected im sorry, this is also sorta rushed I just really wanted to get something out for y’all

to be fair this wasn’t your fault.

“What did I tell you!” Miguel’s harsh voice echoed through the empty room. He was like a toddler with the way he reacted. You messed up once and it’s like your the anti christ with Armageddon coming a mile away.

Blood trailed down your face. A broken nose busted lip and bruising circles around your eyes from one failed fight. “Whatever you act like your the perfect hero” you finally snapped shouting pack at him.

“I don’t make foolish mistakes!”

“I got punched and thrown against a wall by a giant fucking lizard!”

“You were supposed to stay in the background while Jessica captured the anomaly! You could of caused a major break in the universe!” If he raised his voice over yours maybe he would win the argument. This wasn’t even supposed to be an argument in your eyes you did nothing wrong.

Tired of the whole ordeal you walked away ignoring as Miguel shouted for you to come back. If you had to hear this grown man complain about you getting hurt one more time you just might scream.

Taking a seat at the food court you annoyingly waited for your burger. A show tune whistle made you turn your head.

“You Look Well” hobbie sarcastically took a seat beside you. Rolling your eyes you took another sip of your drink.

“If your gonna lecture me, Miguel is already ten steps ahead of you”

He just shook his head with a smile, pulling his guitar from his back to in-front hobbie began to tune it. “I think ill leave that to our little friend” his reference to Gwen didn’t go unnoticed. Any chance he got to bring up the relationship he would. Rolling your neck trying to relieve some tension a pair of soft hands covered your eyes.

Pulling them down Gwen wrapped her arms around your neck. She leaned over kissing your cheek. “Hey how wa— oh my god” her blunt tone made you silently groan. Turning around Gwen grabbed your face in her hands.

“Hey Blondie” You mumbled as she critcally scared your face. “It’s not as Bad as it Looks”

“Your nose is broken”

“Again it’s not that bad”

She grabbed your hand and yanked you from the place where sat. She silently dragged you down multiple halls until you reached the med bay. Almost throwing you, you landed on a cot.

It was cute how she was able to man Handel you. Trying to be sarcastic you spoke “Careful I’m fragile right no—“

“Not a Word”

Her strick tone Sent chills down your back. Sitting straight up Gwen grabbed a first aid kit. Taking a seat beside you she began to softly clean the cut on your lip.

The antibiotics stung against the wound making you pull back in pain. “Sorry” Gwen sighed, grabbing your chin she turned to your face towards her again.

She would never intentionally try to hurt you, it was obvious with how much care she was taking in even the shallow wounds.

“All this for me.. I’m flattered” you giggled.

“Whatever” she smiled. Placing a bowl of soup on the table she sat down on the couch beside you. Hobbie had gone out for the night leaving you and Gwen alone at his place.

Leaning onto her shoulder she was quick to wrap a free arm around you while she picked a movie. Playing with the hem of Gwen’s sleep shirt the thought of how worked up she had gotten over you made your heart soar.

With a bandage on your nose and stitches on your lip you felt your face begin to heal. After a minute you leaned up to kiss the corner of her lips. “Thank you~ I don’t know how I’d live without you”

She tried to act Un phased but her red cheeks lied. “I don’t know either” she joked. Hitting her arm in a small fit of playful rage gwen softly laughed, turning her attention down to you. Kissing your forehead she relaxed back on the furniture with you in arms. You figured you should get comfortable as there was no way in hell she was about to let you go on another assignment any time soon.

[0mystic]

Toxic Werwolf Ex.Bf X Gn. Reader

Decided to get back into writing but more into stuff that I’m into because I think im like maybe semi decent… idk you guys tell me

Tw: Toxic relationships, Blood mention, Nsfw mention, Drinking, slight yandere themes.? Think that’s about it

You had been broken up with your ex for awhile. It wasn’t a shocker to most he treated you like trash and and made it his goal to bully you in front of his pack mates at all time, that paired with the fact that anyone around you could see you were unhappy with the relationship people were just counting down the days till you guys broke up.

Which lead you to where you were right now wearing your skimpiest outfit your friends could shove you into and sitting at this bad with your friends. Don’t get it wrong you were all for the free drinks this cute harpy was providing you with but it just didn’t feel the same. With a bit more encouragement from your friends you find your grinding up against him in a secluded corner.

You were laughing a bit your body feeling light with the alcohol in your system. You turn to face him your arms draping over his shoulder feeling his hands roam over the nice landscape of your ass. Feeling a bit more confident you let go and decide to have some fun you deserve that much at least. You mange your pull his head down placing a soft kiss on his lips. He smiles a bit before diving back into the kiss.

Maybe you were absorbed in the kiss or maybe it was the alcohol but you didn’t hear the step until he was behind you. You jump at the sudden feeling of a hand on you wrists a hand you know all to well. You turn not at all surprised to see your Ex looking as pissed as ever. The smell of alcohol came of him in waves; you scrunched your nose a bit attempting ti pull your arm back.

“Well looked what we have here, should have known a slut like you would take the first chance available to whore yourself out” he leered looking down at you through clenched teeth. You looked to him more specifically his canines looking just as sharp as ever, you could almost feel a phantom pain on your neck just looking at them.

The harpy standing behind you decided to finally intervene with a a leisurely tone he spoke “woah hey man, let’s not call people names now” he reached over and attempted to remove his hand from you only for a deep snarl to be released from your Ex’s throat. “Shut it bird brain this has nothing to do with you why don’t I go give you something shiny and you go fuck off” he growled squeezing his hand around you tighter his nails breaking into your skin a bit.

You let out a whimper as you move to squirm out of his grasp only for him to let out a warning growl. Refocusing in you. “Why don’t you just fucking come back already, you had your fun already whatever stupid shit you’re upset over right now I’m sorry now let’s go” he spoke in a low tone. “I’m done with you, you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for” you seethed wrenching your arm out of his grasp and cradling it towards your chest.

“You heard them knot head why don’t you just go chase a ball or better yet your tail” the harpy mocked pulling you closer to them as they went to inspect your wound muttering out soft words as the use feather light touches to check. You stand there almost in a peaceful state at care the harpy was showing you completely forgetting about the werewolf.

Until he lounged at the the harpy, pouncing and and holding down the male as he thrashed around trying to get the upper hand. All while your your Ex smiled in an almost sadistic way feeling the way the harpy blood cover his hands. Once he felt as though he had his fill he stood up turning towards you with a glint in his eye.

“Oh cmon don’t tell me your scared” he spoke as you backed up a bit looking up to him in fear. “You were speaking in such a righteous manner just a second ago where’d that go” he smirked look down at you. “Poor poor little mate I’ll excuse you this time maybe you just don’t know your place yet” he quickly threw your frozen form over his shoulder placing a quick seat over your ass as he walked out the bar.

“Don’t worry we have all night for you ti get just where your place is”

—————————————————————————————

How was that I literally haven’t like written written in what feels like ages so this was fun. I have tons of thoughts so I would be open to doing more of this they all need names though I do have some appearance ideas for both of them though and ummm yah that’s all I guess toon in for more ^^

[eddies-whoreee]

Traitor (1/2)

Summary: Eddie chose Chrissy over you. You couldn’t stand see them together so you left. In those 2 years you’ve been gone, he realized you are the love of his life and he made a huge mistake.

CW: angst, mean!eddie, bitchy!Chrissy, lots of crying, happy ending (eventually). BASED IN MODERN TIMES!!

Hawkins, July 2020

“What? Eddie I thought-” you say as tears fall down your face. “Look, I’m just not in the mindset to be in a relationship its me not you, okay?” He tells you. You shake your head, “w-why? What happened, w-was it something I did?” You question, tears now pour down your face as he just stared at you, no emotion what so ever. “I just told you, I just can’t be in a relationship.” He states more harshly, rolling his eyes. “It’s her, isn’t it. It’s Chrissy” you ask. “Oh my God, Y/n, please you’re being paranoid! My mental health is all fucked up and you think im cheating!?! Wow you’re really selfish” he snaps at you. “No! That’s not what I’m saying, Eddie I do care!” You speak. He holds the bridge of his nose and let’s out a frustrated sigh. “Just-please, we’re done okay? It’s over I can’t-” he says walking away. Leaving you, heart broken, crying, and mostly confused in your driveway.

2 weeks later

You were walking to lunch with your best friend Robin, who had been comforting you the past 2 weeks. That’s when you see it, “what the fuck” you mumble stopping in your tracks. Robin looks at you confused and follows your gaze. Her face drops, tears flood your eyes and you turn around storming off. She follows after you calling out for you. You guys get into the girls bathroom when you completely break down. “He said, they were just friends! He said I was paranoid” you sob into her hug. “I know babes I’m so sorry” she says rubbing your back soothingly. “I can’t believe him, I thought- I thought he loved me” you state. “He’s an asshat that lost the baddest bitch ever, not that you are a bitch. Chrissy’s a two faced cunt anyways it won’t last long” she tries to assure you. “That’s not the point! He told me that he wasn’t ready mentally for a relationship, and then suddenly two weeks later he’s in a relationship with the same girl he told me not to worry about” you tell her. “He such a slut!” You exclaim. “Totally slut” Robin agrees.

Hawkins, August 2020

Robin sat leaned on the side of your car as you loaded one of your boxes into your trunk. “Babes are you sure this is the best decision?” She asks worriedly. “I can’t stand to see them and I need a break from the Hawkins gossip. Its toxic, plus my aunt has been begging me to come down with her forever so..” you trail off. She nods, “I’m gonna miss you, like a lot. You’re the only person who doesn’t suck in this town” she says. “Hey! Okay that hurt!” Steve exclaims loading the last box into your trunk. “Thanks Steve” you tell him. He nods. “Okay even you suck sometimes Steve, and Y/n has been my bestie since kindergarten so… it’s different” Robin explains. He rolls his eyes playfully. You sigh closing the trunk. “Well, guys I guess this is it. All packed up and ready to go” you say. Robin nods tears filling her eyes. “Don’t cry, then I’m gonna cry” you state tears already starting to form. She gives you a hug tears spilling on your shirt, you didn’t care though. “Don’t forget about me please, I couldn’t handle it” she jokes. “Hell no, you always find away to invade my thoughts” you giggle. “Stevie? Why are you covering your face?” You asks concerned. “My eyes are sweating” he says. “Aww are you gonna miss me Stevie” you tease. “Something like that” he speaks. You give him a hug. “Your killing me smalls” he jokes returning your hug. As you pull away, steve quickly wipes his tears. “I love you guys, okay? I’ll be back one day. Okay this isn’t forever” you tell them. They nod, “okay farewell my fellow friends” you say then wave as you get in the car.

Hawkins, November 2022

You step out of the car, letting out a sigh of relief. For the first time in a longtime you were actually happy to be in Hawkins. You unlock the door to your moms house, it was completely pitch black. You tried to flip the light on but it wouldn’t turn on. “Surprise!!” Your friends shout as the lights turn on, you jump and let out a yelp. “Holy fucking shit!! What the fuck?!?” You giggle. “Welcome home!” Robin exclaims giving you a very aggressive hug. “Hey bestie” you tell her, she pulls back inspecting you. “Have you grown 6 feet? Did you get new hair?” She questions. “No just got over a breakup, you know I have my glow back” you state happily. She nods pulling you into another hug. “Hey Robin share the wealth we miss her too” Steve says, Robin sighs rolling her eyes and letting you go. “Hey kiddo” Steve says pulling you into a hug. “I’m the same age as you!” You tell him. “But your like 10 feet shorter than me so..” he states making you giggle. “I hate you” you joke. The door bell rings, Steve looks at the door confused. “Are we expecting someone?” He asks looking at the rest of the party. They all shake their head ‘no’. “I’ll get it. Be right back” he says patting your head as he walks to the door. Robin and Dustin lead you into the kitchen showing you the master meal they were preparing that was only minutes away from being done. “You need to go” Steve says angrily. “Just let me see her, it’s important” some one replies pleadingly. “As important as cheating on her with Chrissy and breaking her heart?” Steve states. There was a moment of silence. “That’s what I thought.. leave. Now.” Steve tells the person. Their conversations were muffled but you could make the words out. You walk from the kitchen to see who it was. You freeze in your steps, your heart raced and tears were working their way into your eyes. “Baby, Y/n, please just 2 minutes that all I need” he begs. “Eddie? How did you know I was back?” You ask trying to keep the tears from falling. “It’s a small town and that’s all Robin and Steve talk about, and I visit Family Video a lot” he says. “Look, just tell me you don’t want him here and he’s gone” Steve tells you. You fiddle with your fingers knowing you would probably regret this decision. “It’s fine. It’ll only be 2 minutes” you speak walking to the door. “Outside” you say walking out. Eddie nods shutting the door behind you. You take a seat on the porch swing. Eddie sits next to you. He tries to put a hand on your thigh, but you scoot away from his touch. “I made a horrible mistake. Like the biggest mistake ever. I love you, you’re the love of my life” he says. You scoff shaking your head, “I’ve heard that before” you tell him. “I know, I know, it’s just I’m an asshole okay?” He states. “I gathered that” you speak rolling your eyes. “So why do you want me back now? Did she break your heart, you figure out that being with her isn’t pure paradise? Let me guess she treated you like her puppet?” You question bitterly. He doesn’t say anything knowing you were right.

Hawkins, October 2020

“Ughh Eddie that isn’t the point you can’t go to the party dressed as the joker if I’m not Harley Quinn! You will be Bugs Bunny and you’ll have a smile on your face the whole time!” She spits at him. “Baby, I don’t want-” he’s cut off by her scoff. “It isn’t about what you want! I’m head cheerleader! Okay? Having you as a charity case is bad enough. I can’t have you ruining Halloween too” she states angrily. “Wow, so that’s what I am a fucking charity case” Eddie asks. “Well I’m not dating you because I love you and want to get married” she snickers fixing up her makeup. He scoffs shaking his head. “Well then have fun going to the party with Jason, because I’m done, with you, this bullshit, Y/n was right your a cold hearted bitch” Eddie snaps at her. She turns around and narrows her eyes at him. “You can’t break up with me 30 minutes before the damn party! Jason is going with Cynthia! I cant go alone!” She exclaims. “Too bad find another charity case, get out” Eddie tells her. “Wait I’m sorry I didn’t mean it Eddie, c’mon-” she tries to speak but Eddie cuts her off. “Nope leave! God you’re actually a horrible person” he says tears forming his eyes. But not from his and Chrissy’s break up but from the fact he knew he fucked up. He was always happy with you. You never made him feel less. “Whatever you will never find someone better than me!” She screams storming out. He sighs as he hears the door slam. He plops down on the bed and cries, he feels like a fucking child, an immature, stupid child.

Hawkins, May 2021

He walks into Family Video going to buy your favorite movie since it was your birthday and you always loved 10 Things I Hate About You. As he walks up from to the register putting the movie on the counter. “Hm, her favorite movie, doing some sulking from losing the best thing that ever happened to you?” Robin asks bitterly. “This isn’t very good costumer service” Eddie states. “You know if I wanted to which I really should I could refuse service to you, since I have the right to” she replies with a fake smile pointing to the sign. He rolls his eyes. “Can I just get the damn movie” he speaks frustratedly. “Sure that’ll be $13.99” she says. “What? the price says 8.99” he tells her. She snickers, “oh you get the douche fee.” He scoffs and hands her a 10 dollar bill. “Good one Buckley, how’s Vickie?” He smirks, “how’s Chrissy?” She snaps back. He tenses up. “Bye-bye loser” she states with a smile. “Fuck off” he mumbles grabbing the movie and walking out.

Hawkins, July 2021

He sat in his living room plopped down on the couch. This was about the 100th time he watch you favorite movie just in this month alone. As Wayne entered the house he sighed seeing the movie playing and his nephew snuggling up with one of your shirts. “Boy, this again?” He asks. Eddie jumps and pushes your shirt away. “What? No- I- just” he tries to lie but Wayne huffs. “It’s your fault, you broke that sweet girl’s heart. Now you’re getting a taste of your own medicine” he tells him bluntly. “I know Wayne, trust me I’ve been contemplating my whole life’s decisions since that day” Eddie replies annoyingly. “So why are you sulking” Wayne questions. “Because I love her! I fucked up, exactly a year ago today I made the worst mistake of my life. You should’ve seen how heart broken she was, god, every time I close my eyes all I see is her crying because I broke her heart.” Eddie exclaims tears flowing down his face. Wayne did hate to see his nephew sad, but this was his own fault. Wayne didn’t raise Eddie to be a heart breaker. He raised him to respect and treat women like queens and Eddie just screwed up, no way to sugar coat that. “I miss her Wayne” Eddie says. “Yeah, I do too son” Wayne sighs walking into the bathroom. Eddie lays back staring at the ceiling.

Hawkins, November 2022

“Eddie you really hurt me. I gave you everything, you were my first everything! And you just…hurt me” you tell him. He sighs wiping away the tear that poured down his face. “Look I’m not asking for you to take me back, or even forgive me. I just want you to give me another chance, I know I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you. You are too good for me, you loved me at my worst when everyone hated me you were there and I fucked up. I know it. Just let me make what I can up to you. I know I’ll never fully be able to win all the trust I used to have back but just let me make you feel how special you make me feel” he pleads. “Why did you do it?“ you question. “Because.. I thought people would look at me different if I was with her, I thought for once people would actually treat me like a decent human being instead of judging me for my last name. It’s not a good reason, no reason would be. But it’s the truth and I’m done lying to you” he says looking down at the ground. “Did you c-cheat?” You asks. “Hell no, I never cheated. No. I would never” he states looking at you. “But you talked to her while we were together? You wanted her while you were with me?” You question. “Yes, but I never stopped loving you, not for one second. I was just tired, of being labeled the freak, Jason and his mouth breathing clan fucking with me. People looking down on me. But I thought that if I had the head cheerleader on my side, that would change everything. What I did was completely selfish. And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He apologizes, holding your hand. “Times up Munson” Steve says as he walks out the door. You stand up wiping your tears away. Eddie sighs and nods standing up. He goes in for a hug but you back up. You hold out your fist for a bump. He bumps your fist. “I love you, bye” he says walking to his car. You watch him and huff. “Love you too” you mumble and walk in the house.

THERE WILL BE A PART 2!! THE FINAL PART HAPPEY ENDINGS ARE TO COME!! SHOULD I END WITH SOME SMUT OR NO?? I can’t decide!!

[harringtown]

in the sea that’s painted black

a/n: it took an obscene amount of time to finish this fic and even longer to get around to this request so im so sorry for the wait, but me and writers block are currently duking it out in the ring lmao 

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader 

summary: vecna kidnaps the reader, and once they’re rescued, steve helps pick up the pieces (aka how steve and reader lose each other, and how they find their way back) 

word count: 7k

warnings: cursing, violence/torture mention

-

As far as Steve knew, you were a hundred miles from Hawkins when Vecna’s infection bubbled to the surface. You were at your aunt’s helping out with her new baby for Spring Break, far from the incoming chaos.

As far as Steve knew, you were safe.

As it would turn out, though, Steve didn’t know a damn thing.

Steve has broken his ribs more times than he can count, and the same can be said for his nose, and he’s had at least four concussions, but none of that pain comes close to this.

To the avalanche that lands on his chest when they bust through the locked door behind Vecna’s flaming corpse in the Creel house and see you, pale and bruised and bloody and unconscious. You’re alive, but barely—eyes shut, fingertips and lips blue, pulse so slow that Robin initially thinks you’re dead.

The decently laid escape plans every one of them came through the gate with dissolve, and in minutes, everyone on the wrong side of the gate is at the Creel house. Eddie is more blood than boy, and Dustin is limping, and Steve can’t tell who is holding up who. But they’re alive, and they’re awake, and that’s better than Steve can say for you.

“Can we move her?” Robin asks.

Nancy purses her lips. She’s purposefully not looking at Steve.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I think her arms are broken. Legs, maybe.” She shakes her head, and her next words are hopeless. “I don’t know.”

“I’m not leaving her here,” Steve snarls.

“No one is suggesting that, Steve,” Nancy says. “But if we just… run in there and lift her, we could hurt her even more.”

“What the hell are we supposed to do, then?” He asks, and he knows he’s raising his voice, and he knows Nancy doesn’t deserve it, but the girl he loves is half-dead on the floor.

He spent three days believing you were safe and sound, miles away. And for three days, you’ve been trapped in hell.

He should have known. Should have sensed it. Should have taken the damn time to call your aunt, who would have told him you never made it.

“We’ll make a stretcher,” Eddie says. He sways a bit as he comes forward. “We need a big fucking slab of wood.” He sweeps a gaze around. “And anyone with a belt, take it off, and hand it over.”

And though a few days ago, Steve didn’t care who Eddie Munson was, right now, he could kiss him. Instead, he just meets Eddie’s eyes, and gives him one of those dude-nods, hoping he’ll understand. Eddie nods back, already unthreading his leather studded belt.

Nancy and Robin end up ripping the front door straight off its hinges, and Steve, Eddie, and Dustin get to work making something sturdy enough to get you out of here.

You haven’t moved, have barely taken breath, since they found you, but for the moment, Steve lets the task distract him, and pretends it isn’t the girl he loves on the floor, but a faceless person he doesn’t know. It’s the only way he’ll get you and himself and everyone else out of here.

The radio chatter has been nonstop with the kids on the other side of the gate trying to figure out what’s going on, but not a single hand is free to answer the call. Within minutes, a decent looking transfer board with straps is being placed beside you.

Nancy and Robin take one side, Steve and Eddie another, with Dustin at your head to secure your neck.

“Ready?” Nancy asks. Four sets of hands slip gently beneath you. “Three, two, one—”

Your eyes snap forward, wide open, and the whites are almost entirely red from broken blood vessels. The others shift back on instinct—Steve’s instinct pushes him forward, has him reaching for you.

Your gaze finds his, and Steve doesn’t ever think he’s been so relieved in his life. You’re alive, and awake, and—

And you lunge for him, fingers wrapping tight around his neck.

And Steve can’t breathe.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Head.” Your voice is raw and ragged and breaking, and with each word, your fingers close a little tighter around Steve’s throat.

“Oh, shit!” Dustin yells, and if Steve had the capability of speech, he’d agree with him.

“Wheeler!” Eddie calls, in motion while the rest of the room is frozen, taking one of your arms. “A little help over here!”

Nancy lunges, Robin behind her, and it takes all three of them to tear you off Steve. Steve, who just spent a good ten minutes with a vine around his neck, is in no state to help, and even if he was, he still can’t breathe. He can’t breathe, and all he can see is your eyes, red and angry.

Eddie wrangles you back, but you shove out of his arms, throwing yourself back into the corner like a terrified animal.

“Steve—” Robin kneels to help him to his feet, but he shakes her off, hands flying up to rub at his neck.

“I’m fine,” he spits. And he isn’t, and everyone knows it, and maybe that’s why they don’t push it. Or maybe it’s you, trembling in the corner, staring at all of them like they’re monsters.

He takes a step toward you, and Nancy takes his arm.

“Steve, I wouldn’t—” She starts, but a glare from Steve silences her. She removes her hand.

“Y/N, it’s just us,” Steve says. He doesn’t get closer, despite every cell and nerve ending telling him to. “It’s me. It’s Steve.”

You shake your head so violently, Steve wonders if it hurts.

“No,” you say. “No. You’re not him. You’re not him.” You shake your head again. Draw your knees to your chest and loop your arms around them. “You’re not him.”

Steve looks back at his friends. Robin, her eyes glittering with tears. Nancy, who won’t look at him. Eddie, with his jaw clenched. Dustin, trying to shift his weight onto his bad foot and failing.

He doesn’t know what to do. After everything he’s been through, all the battles he’s fought, Steve Harrington has finally come face to face with a wall he can’t begin to imagine climbing.

In the end, it isn’t Steve who saves you from the Creel house. He doesn’t carry you out to safety. He doesn’t comfort you on the way through the gate and to the ambulances; one of them already has Max inside.

Eddie does. The only person you didn’t know before all this started—the only person Vecna didn’t use to torture you for three straight days.

Steve doesn’t have to ask to know that he was the center of the nightmares. The throbbing pulse around his throat is answer enough.

He was forced into a check up alongside everyone else when they got to the hospital—you, Max, Dustin, and Eddie were immediately taken back to rooms to be treated for your more severe injuries—but with so much chaos and carnage to deal with after the alleged earthquake, he’s told he’s free to go within the hour.

He doesn’t go, of course. He can’t. You’re still here. One of the nurses gave him your room number, said you’d be released in the morning. Which means Steve will be here until the morning.

Steve isn’t sure what else to do, so he ends up on damage control. He stops by Eddie’s room, where the Munson boy is wrapped tight in gauze and being pumped full of morphine, and asks if you said anything before he handed you off to the EMT’s. From what he could get out of you, you’d been intercepted on your way out of town. A cop found your car just a few miles from your house, down a gravel road, like you’d followed something.

Something. Someone. Vecna.

Thinking about it makes his blood boil. Makes him want to march back through the gate and burn every inch of the Upside Down back to ash.

He puts off going up to visit you as long as he can. But eventually, he’s called your parents and aunt to update them—your parents left in the evacuation, and your aunt was absolutely panicking, but as far as they know, you were minorly injured in the earthquake, and will call them all in the morning—and he can’t find any more excuses not to go.

It’s almost like part of him believes that the longer he waits, the more likely he is to walk into that hospital room and find you just the way you were when he kissed you goodbye three days ago.

Steve hesitates at the door. Room thirteen. He takes a breath, and steps inside.

He sees you jerk and straighten before he sees your face. It makes him stop a foot from the door.

You sit rod straight in the hospital bed. Both your arms are in casts. You have two black eyes, and more bruises and scrapes than he could even begin to count. But the worst part is the way you look at him. Like he’s a monster.

“I, uh, I wanted to make sure you were—” Steve stops. He should have come in with some game plan. “I wanted to see how you were doing.” It feels kind of like it did before you started dating, when you both walked that awkward tightrope until you realized you were both heading in the same direction. But even then, you never looked at him like this.

Your gaze trails up and down, and when it returns to his face, your expression is tight and tense.

“Steve?” you ask, like you doubt it.

“Yeah. It’s me,” he says. “It’s Steve.”

You gather the blankets up in your lap. “How do I know it’s really you?”

Steve’s lips part, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know how to prove himself. He doesn’t know how to get rid of that panicked look in your eyes. He sure as shit doesn’t know how to fix this.

So, he just says, “I don’t know.” It’s almost impossible to talk past the choking sensation in his throat. “I would say that you'll have to just trust me, but—” He gestures at nothing. Closes his eyes for a long second. Opens them, and asks, as softly as he can, “But you can’t do that, can you?”

“I’m sorry.” You shake your head. Tears spill down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” You lick your lips and avert your gaze. “But I can’t—I don’t—”

Steve’s heart cracks open in his chest. He swallows the lump in his throat and says, “That’s okay.”

“It’s not—” you say.

Steve makes to move forward, but at your abrupt flinch, he freezes. Reroutes. Tries to cull the pain he knows is infecting his face with every breath.

“It is,” he says gently. “It’s okay.” He jams his hands in his pockets as if that will get rid of the urge to wrap his arms around you, protect you the way he’s supposed to. But right now, the only protection you seem to want is from him.

Steve licks his lips. “Look, I know that the last thing you want right now is to see my face—” Your expression twists, but you don’t counteract his words, so he knows they’re true. “—but I’ll be here. If you need me, or whatever, just…” He clears his throat. “I’m here, okay?”

You don’t say anything. You just nod.

And that’s it. Just like that. Steve turns and heads for the door before he breaks down at your feet, but a soft, “Steve,” stops him with his hand on the handle. He catches your eye over his shoulder.

Tears run rivers down your cheeks. A few days ago, Steve could have wiped them away.

“I’m so sorry,” you say.

The knot in Steve’s gut coils tighter, and rage sparks along his skin, but he’s not angry at you. He’s angry at Vecna or Henry or whoever the fuck he is. He’s angry at himself for not taking you up on your invite to get out of town for the week. Most of all, he’s just angry. Angry because he loves you, and he can’t help you.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Steve says, harsher than he means. He tries again, softer, “None of this is your fault. If you can trust anything right now, trust that.”

Then he slips through the door and pulls the door shut behind him.

With everything that happened, the Byers trip has been extended—Steve doubts they’ll go back to California for anything more than packing up and selling the house—and because half the houses in Hawkins were obliterated, Steve’s house becomes the hotel for the Byers, Hopper, and Eleven. He’s pretty sure Eddie will be taking over his couch when he’s discharged from the hospital, too.

He told them he’d be home later when he handed off a key, but he has no intention of going anywhere.

Steve drags two chairs from down the hall, positions them against the wall outside your side, and settles in. He’s immediately uncomfortable, and his back is going to wage war on him in the morning, but laying crookedly on those chairs is the closest he can get to you. After the last few days, he wants to be as close as he can be.

And so, he stays, staring up at the tiles of popcorn above him until he falls into a fitful sleep, full of empty, hollow dreams.

-

You were giddy the first, fifth, and five hundredth time you walked up the Harrington driveway. Tonight, though, the only thing you feel is dread.

To your relief, Steve is at work when you’re discharged, and since your parents are towns away with relatives—and unaware that you had to stay in the hospital at all—it’s Joyce and Hopper who drive you. They, too, are residents at the Harrington halfway house that popped up in the last day.

Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle took the kids for a lake day to get their minds off things before Argyle has to head back to California, so the house is quiet, but it wouldn’t matter how full it was. Anything you touched or looked at or loved prior to three days ago is drenched in blood no one else can see. Even Joyce and Hopper, who featured less in the rampage of nightmares, make you want to crawl out of your skin.

But they seem to get it, or are just weighed down by their own responsibilities and losses, because they don’t stop you when you head out to the back yard. Sitting on a rusted lawn chair, it takes a second to realize why you chose this spot.

Because Steve doesn't come out here anymore. He hasn’t come farther than the doorway since Barbara Holland died.

Another barrage of tears lines up behind your eyes. If anyone would understand, empathize, it would be Steve. Steve, who has seen more pain than most people realize, and who has shouldered more than anyone should.

Steve, who you love more than you thought was possible.

And yet, when you saw his face in the Creel house, and again in the hospital, you could think only of the sick, maniacal grin on his face as he broke you in every way possible. As he spit venom and broke your bones and twisted every beautiful thing he ever told you.

Steve. Vecna. They are not the same, and they are.

You swipe the tears out of your eyes. The skin is dry and flaky from all the crying, and aches where you irritate the bruises.

But it could be worse. At least you’re alive, and awake, and walking around.

You’re not sure how long you sit out there, staring at the empty pool. It’s been empty almost as long as Barb has been dead. Steve begged his father to have it professionally done, and when the man ignored him, a frantic Steve went at it with buckets until his dad agreed.

At some point, the sun begins to set. A little later, a figure in the window catches your attention.

Steve stands at the back door, his arms folded over his chest, but he doesn’t make any attempt to come outside. You’ve no idea how long he’s been standing there.

He sees the line you’ve drawn in the sand. And it’s obvious how much it hurts him.

You take a breath and look away.

-

The nightmare yanks you out of sleep sometime past four in the morning. Tugging the damp, twisted covers off your legs, you slide out of bed—Steve’s bed, minus Steve, a fact that is both a relief and a disappointment all at once—and pull the hoodie from the end of the bed. It, too, is Steve’s, but it’s been yours almost as long, stolen months ago.

You pad to the door, eager to splash cold water on your face like it’ll wash the nightmare clean. Easing it open, you slip into the dark hallway, and almost trip on the dark figure sprawled outside the door.

Steve Harrington, in all his glory, a spot of drool on one side of his mouth, sleeping on a yoga mat with a ratty pillow and an old quilt.

“Steve?” you ask, louder than you should this late at night.

Steve’s eyes snap open, and he retrieves a knife he has tucked under the pillow, jerking upwards. At the sight of you, he sighs. Tosses the knife aside. Swipes at his eyes.

“Jesus—you scared the hell out of me,” he says. His voice is thick with sleep, and it tugs on soft memories; mornings across the same pillow and warm skin against yours.

“I scared you?” you ask, incredulous. “What are you doing out here?”

He flops onto his back and throws an arm over his face.

“Sleeping,” he grumbles. “Or, I was.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” you say. “Why are you curled up outside my door like a golden retriever?”

“If you wanna get technical, it’s my door—” He removes his arm from his face and scrunches his face up at your expression. “—which, clearly you don’t.” He pushes up to a seated position, shifting to lean his back against the wall. “Look, I get that you don’t want anything to do with me right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to just…” He shakes his head. “Ditch you.”

You can do nothing but look at him for a long moment, battling between the urge to run and the urge to stay.

Steve’s gaze falls to the wall across from him, as if he already knows what you’ve decided. A muscle ticks in his jaw. A few inches south, a scabbed line circles his throat. He almost died back there, too.

No one escaped this uscathed.

Maybe that’s why you decide to sit down across from him. Or maybe he just looks so miserable. Maybe you miss him. Maybe it’s all of those things.

You stretch your legs out, and Steve does the same. He rolls his ankle to tap your socked foot with his once before he shifts his legs away. His expression is twisted, a little hesitant, like he’s not sure what’s going on, like he’s worried he’s walked into a trap.

The silence holds longer than it ever has before. No one wants to be the first to break it.

Even before you admitted your feelings, as you skirted around each other like orbiting planets, it never felt like this. Awkward in a heart-wrenching way.

A few minutes, or an eternity, later, you voice the question bouncing around your skull.

“You’ve been sleeping out here every night?”

Steve pokes his tongue into one side of his cheek, making it bulge like he jammed a lollipop in his mouth. A memory of a candy store and sticky, taffy-flavored kisses drifts around you like a breeze.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve says. He rakes a hand through his hair, mussing it up even further.

“Why?”

Steve clears his throat. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he says, “I guess I don’t know what else to do.” His gaze darts to yours, a sad half-smile playing on his lips. “I mean, I don’t really ever know what to do, if the current state of my life didn’t make that clear enough, but I’ve always been able to… bullshit my way through it, you know? Enough to get by.” He shrugs a shoulder. Tips his head back against the wall. Closes his eyes. “But here, with you, I have no idea. And it kills me.”

You let out a breath. “It has nothing to do with not wanting to be around you,” you say. “It’s not that I—I don’t—”

Steve opens his eyes and says, “You don’t have to.”

Once again, patient. Patient like he’s been for almost a week. More patient than you think you deserve.

“I want to,” you say. “I wish I could. I just…”

Steve nods. He goes quiet for a long time, but it isn’t an awkward silence. It’s worse. It’s heavy with grief and wanting and old sentiments for the old version of you both.

You slide your leg across the scratchy carpet and tap his foot with yours, drawing his attention back to you.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m sorry I don’t know what to do.”

“Yeah, well, we have that in common, at least,” he says. “Because I have no clue what to do, either.”

And while his actions the last week have made it clear he doesn’t plan on giving up, as he slides down onto his back on his sad little bed, it looks and feels a hell of a lot like surrender.

-

After three weeks, the Byers have vacated Steve’s house—Hopper and Joyce went Westward, back to California to sell Joyce’s house, and the kids with Jonathan at Hopper’s cabin now that it’s been done up.

The only other occupants of the Harrington house, since the actual Mrs and Mr Harrington are still out of town, are Eddie Munson and his uncle, though next week, they’ll be gone, too.

You’re not entirely sure why you’re still here. Your parents asked if you were planning on meeting them at your relatives house, and you told them no.

As much as it hurts to be near Steve, at the same time, it’s also the only thing that feels normal. Which makes no sense.

“We need to talk,” a familiar voice says. You hadn’t even heard him come outside—hadn’t figured he would, since he hasn’t once in the last three weeks. But when you turn, there he is, arms folded, jaw tight. Steve.

You shift on the rusty lawn chair, and Steve doesn’t hesitate before he comes to sit across from you.

“Steve, I’m really not in the mood—“

“Enough.” He shakes his head. “I’ve spent three weeks tip-toeing around you, and I’m done. You have to talk about it. Talk to me—”

Your lips form the beginning of a protest, but Steve presses on before you can say it, like he already knew you were going to.

“—or don’t talk to me. But talk to someone.”

“What do you want me to say, Steve?”

“Anything,” he says. “Anything at all. Because anything has to be better than this. You’ve been walking around like a goddamn ghost for weeks, and I’ve tried to give you space, and then I tried to be there for you, but all you’ve done is push me away.” He lets out the saddest laugh you’ve ever heard. “And then, I hear you on the phone with your parents. I know they asked you to come up to Indianapolis. And I know you told them no. Which doesn’t really make sense, because anytime I’m around, it’s like you can’t stand me.”

“That’s not true,” you say.

“Yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”

Your heart wrenches.

“I’m serious,” you say, swallowing the lump in your throat.  “I still love you as much as I did three weeks ago. But for three days, a… demon wearing your face tortured me. Took every beautiful, kind thing you’ve ever said to me and twisted it. And it wasn’t just that. I saw everyone I love die a dozen times. I saw you die a dozen times.” You press your lips together. “I still love you, Steve Harrington, but I also see the end of the world when I look at you. I don’t know what to do with that, and I don’t know how to make that go away.”

Steve falls quiet, and for a long time, you’re afraid to look him in the eyes. And when you do, you regret it. All that pain and anguish and anger in his eyes, reflected back in your own.

“You can’t save everyone, Steve,” you say softly.

“You’re right.” Steve rakes in a breath. “I can’t save everyone. But I can save you.” He swallows. Grits his teeth. “And I will save you, Y/N. Whatever it takes.”

“Why? Why won’t you just give up?”

Steve goes quiet for a moment. His voice is low when he speaks again. “When you and I—” His brows furrow. “After everything that happened with Nancy, I was no good for anybody. I sure as hell wasn’t any good for you when we first started all this. I was a mess, but you stayed. You never stopped fighting for me.” Steve sniffs and swipes a hand under his nose. He pushes to his feet, and jams his hands in his pockets. “So if you want me to stop fighting, then look me in the eye and tell me, and I will.” He shakes his head. “But I’m never giving up on you, kid. I love you too much.”

The old nickname—you said an eight month age gap hardly warranted the term—from the months you both pretended not to feel what you did for each other, for your own stubborn reasons, stings like a slap.

Then he stands up, takes a tentative step toward you. When you don’t move, don’t even look up, he bends down. Presses his lips to the top of your head. Lingers, just for a second, long enough for your gut to lurch. Walks away.

And when you say, “Don’t stop fighting,” you’re not sure if he hears you before he makes it inside.

-

Another week passes. Steve moves back into his bedroom, and you into the guest room that shares a wall. Steve’s mother returns home, though even when she’s there, she’s not, so it still feels like it’s just the two of you. Circling each other.

On Friday night, you’re settled on the couch under the biggest blanket you could find, when Steve walks through the living room. He slings a jacket over his shoulders and drops onto the couch opposite you as he laces his sneakers.

“Hey,” you say.

Steve’s head snaps up, like he’s shocked you acknowledged him at all.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” he asks. He’s asked it a thousand times. And each time, you consider lying. And each time, you don’t.

“Just tired. Haven’t slept well in like a month.”

Steve nods grimly. “Well, if you feel like getting out of the house, I’m heading to Robin’s to watch some cheesy movie she picked out. She invited you, too.” Steve clears his throat. “You should come. It could be fun.” He shifts his weight, tries a smile. “I mean, not that fun, because Robin insists on that disgusting popcorn, milk duds thing, but, still.”

Your pulse leaps. You’ve barely left the house in the last month, but when you have, it’s been alone.

Your lips part, an excuse lining up behind your teeth, but before you can release it, Steve sighs, and says, “Yeah, I figured.”

He pushes to his feet and jams his hands into his pockets.

“If you change your mind…” Steve trails off, like he knows just as well as you that you won’t. He nods. “I’ll see you later. If you need something, call me, okay?”

You nod, and even though it breaks your heart to let him walk out the door, you don’t stop him. You never do.

That doesn’t mean you don’t wish you had. Wish you were brave enough. Wish that you and Steve were the same versions of yourselves as you were a month ago. But you’re not. He’s not. And there’s no way back to those people.

There’s just before and after.

-

A knock on the door half an hour later rouses you from the couch. You head to the door, expecting to let in Steve’s mom, who forgets her house keys more times than she remembers them.

It isn’t Steve’s mom at the door, though. It’s Eddie Munson.

No longer standing at death’s door, he doesn’t look like the guy who was more blood than boy when he carried you out of the Creel House. And while you’d never spoken before all this, a friendship was born out of the whole endeavor, during late nights on Steve’s couches.  

“Eddie?”

“In the flesh,” he says, sweeping an arm. He flashes you a lopsided grin. “You look disappointed. Expecting someone different?”

No. Yes. You’re always hoping it’s Steve coming through the door, and a little relieved when it’s not. A little sad, too.

“No,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Just figured you had better things to do on a Friday night.”

He shrugs, and steps around you and into the house like it’s his own. With another eye roll he can’t see, you close the door behind him.

“Kind of you, sweetheart, but I’d guess our social schedules look pretty much the same these days.” He leans into the staircase banister. “I’m just here to grab some stuff I left. Harrington said he left a doggy bag just past the foyer.” He says foyer all fancy, an ay instead of an er, and you can’t help but smile.

You jerk a chin.

“Come on. You know where to go.”

“That I do,” he says, and heads into the living room. He locates the plastic bag stuffed with clothes on the coffee table, but instead of grabbing it, he drops down onto one of the couches.

With a sigh, you cross the room and sit on the other couch.

“Make yourself at home,” you say.

“What can I say? This couch and I got close last month.” Eddie grins, but it falters. “So. Elephant in the room. How are you?” He asks. “And don’t give me some bullshit answer. My lie detector is off the damn charts.”

You huff, sitting back on the couch and folding your arms across your chest.

“I’m…” You sigh. “I don’t know how I am. How are you?”

Eddie frowns, and the furrow between his brows is deep.

“About the same.”

“I haven’t slept more than five hours a night in a month. Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that house. And the nightmares—” You stop, shaking your head.

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Eddie says, jaw set. “My dreams aren’t exactly rainbows and daisies, these days.”

“And they were before?”

He lets out a soft laugh.

You take a breath. “Sometimes, I think they’re never going to go away. The nightmares. And not just the nightmares, but all of it.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stares at the coffee table between you like it has something to tell him.

And then, he looks up.

“You know, my whole life, I felt like I was at war with the entire world. I had to fight so much, so long, that when I finally didn’t, I had no damn clue what to do.” Eddie licks his lips. “And I know that you’ve been through hell. But you’re not on a battlefield anymore. You have to come home. Get off that damn field before you get stuck there.”

You shake your head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Eddie purses his lips. He sits forward, leaning his elbows into his knees.

“Welcome to the club,” he says. “But you’re one of the lucky ones.”

“Lucky?” You scoff.

“Yeah. Lucky.” Eddie sits up. “Back in that house, four people who had every reason to run for their fucking lives stayed behind because you needed help. I mean, if it were up to me, I’d have gotten the hell out of there.” He shoots you an apologetic grin. “But not them.” There’s an unspoken not-him in there, and you’re not sure what surprises you more: that he’s defending Steve, or that you’re having this conversation at all.

The you of a month away would never have believed a word of this. Any of it.

“Look, I’m not saying that anyone is gonna walk in and make all the bad shit go away. Nobody can do that. But you’ve got people that want to try,” Eddie says. “Do you know what I’d have given to have that? What I’d still give?” He shakes his head. “Yeah. I’d call that pretty damn lucky.”

“You have people, Eddie,” you say. “At least, you do now.”

He gives you a wan smile, like he’s not sure he believes it, but he appreciates the sentiment.

“Whatever I have, it isn’t that.” He shrugs. “So, as the person who carried you out of that place, do me a favor and make it worth a damn.”

It’s a sincerity you’re surprised to find from him. Maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s right, because all you can say is, “I will.”

-

“Look at me.” That voice, the one that you know better than your own, but it’s wrong, all wrong. He is all wrong. Dark and coated in rot.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hard enough to hurt. But that voice just gets louder, and louder, so loud it’s like it’s being projected directly into your brain.

“Look at me.”

“You’re not real,” you say, but you’re saying it yourself more than anyone.

This isn’t real. You know it isn’t real.

But it feels real. Looks and smells and hurts. And that makes it real enough.

A massive force slams into your chest and sends you colliding with the brick wall, but you don’t fall, your limbs stuck to the

Your eyes snap open.

Steve who isn’t Steve smiles.

“There we go,” he says. “I wouldn’t want you to miss a second of this.”

He lifts a hand. Steps forward. And lights every inch of you on fire—

“Wake up. It’s not real. Wake up.” That same voice, but this time, it’s gentle. And the hands on your shoulders don’t pin you down, but guide you up, keeping you from falling right off the bed as you jerk up and awake.

Steve pulls his hands back as soon as you’re steady, but he stays, perched on the edge of the mattress, his expression concerned.

“There we go. You’re okay. It was just a dream,” he says.

You rake a hand through your hair, huffing a breath.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Steve’s lips pull thin, and he gives you a sheepish smile.

“Thin walls,” he says. “I don’t sleep that great these days, anyway.”

And he doesn’t voice the unspoken, the reason he doesn’t sleep well.

Not for the first time, you consider Steve’s side of all this, but for the first time, you’re able to follow the train of thought without panic riding along.

You’re able to see how much he’s been hurting, too. You’re able to see that you broke his heart.

“Thank you,” you say, but you don’t just mean for this, but for all of it. For what he’s given up and left behind because you needed him to.

He nods. Pushes to his feet.

“Anytime,” he says. He clears his throat. “Try and get some rest, okay?”

He starts toward the door.

“Wait.”

Steve stops halfway to the door. He turns, his expression unreadable.

“Don’t go,” you say.

Steve hesitates, like he’s waiting for you to change your mind. But you’re thinking about Eddie, of all people, and what he said earlier. About walking off the battlefield before you’re stuck on it.

And it isn’t as simple as just stepping off, but it’s the only option worth anything.

“I’m so sick of letting you walk away from me. So mad at myself, and mad at Vecna, and mad at you for—for not telling me to screw off.” You rake in a breath. “But mostly, I’m just tired. And I miss you.” You shake your head. “I miss you so much, Steve, and you’re right in front of me, and all of this—it’s all my fault. I messed it all up.”

Steve frowns. Crosses to the bed and drops back onto the edge.

“None of this,” he says fiercely, “is your fault. Do you hear me? None of it.”

You close your eyes for a long moment. When you open them, Steve has his gaze locked on the fraying edges of the quilt curled in your lap.

“I don’t want to miss you anymore. I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t love you as much as I did a month ago just because I’m scared. And I know things can’t go back to the way they were, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish they could.” You stretch a hand out, touching his own. He stills. “I wish like hell they could.”

Steve lifts his gaze to yours.

“Just tell me what to do. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

You press your lips together. Inhale, and thread your fingers through his.

“Don’t let me go,” you say, and lean closer, dipping your forehead against his.

“Like that was ever possible,” he says. His breath is warm on your chin, and he smells like lemon shampoo and aftershave, and god, you’ve missed it. Missed him.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he says. “Always.”

You tilt your chin up, just a bit, and press your lips to his. It’s a cautious kiss, but Steve answers with another, steady and sure.

He pulls back a bit. Licks his lips.

“Do you still see the end of the world when you look at me?” he asks.

Yes. And no. Both choices and none of them.

You take his face in your hands, and he exhales softly, leaning into your touch.

“I don’t know what I see,” you whisper. “But I know what I want to see.” You give him a tiny, sad smile. “I want to see the boy who risked his own life to save mine. Who refused to give up on me, even when I gave him every possible reason to.” You lean forward, just a bit.

“And what do you see right now?” he asks.

“I see you,” you say. “Just you.”

Steve shifts back. He’s clearly reluctant to ask, his voice low as he says, “What about tomorrow, when you wake up, and that’s not what you see anymore? When you remember the monster under your bed has my face?”

It’s a valid question. And you don’t have a good answer, because there’s no way to know. There’s just this second, right now.

But really, now is all you have.

You trace your thumb down his cheekbone, to the corner of his mouth, and back up. His eyes flutter shut.

“You fought for me. So, I can fight for you,” you say. Steve opens his eyes. You incline your head and give him a half-smile. “Even if I’m fighting myself a little to do it.”

Steve shakes his head. “Why? Why not just walk away? You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. You can’t tell me it wouldn’t be easier to just leave Hawkins, and all of this shit, behind.”

You nod. “You’re right. It would be easier,” you say. “But I can’t. I can’t walk away, because that’s not what we do. You and me, we save each other.”

Steve pulls his bottom lip into his teeth. After a moment, he says, “Okay. Then we do what we always do. Take it one day at a time.”

“I think I can manage that,” you say.

Steve hesitates, then gives you a smile that makes your stomach flutter.

“It’s not the worst plan we’ve ever come up with,” he says.

And you surprise yourself by smiling.

“Don’t go lumping your bad ideas with my good ones, Harrington.”

“Don’t go crapping on my well-intentioned, but ultimately bad ideas,” he says.

You laugh, probably the first time in a month, and shake your head.

“God, I missed you,” you say.

“I missed you, too,” Steve says. Shakes his head. “So much.”  

There are a dozen more things you should say, but there’s also the time to say it. You’ve been squeezing your eyes shut for so long, you couldn’t see it. The second chance laid out at your feet.

There will be time to say everything. Right now, though, you lean in, and kiss him. A real kiss. You thread your fingers through his curls and draw him close, and he kisses you back.

You’re not entirely free of everything that happened down there. Maybe you never will be.

But you can walk off the battlefield. You will. And this is the first step.

-

taglist: @milkiane​ @spideyboipete​ @robiin-buckley​ @robinbuckleyssgf​ @la-fille-en-aiguilles​ @sunlitide​ @cityofidek​ @isshecrazyorissheclever @peanutbutter-y-jams​ @hellfire1986baby​

[daddyhausen]

could i please request fluffy headcanons for Hangman Page crushing/falling in love with a member of the AEW medical team?

• bloody kisses — hangman adam page •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ masterlist } | { aew masterlist } | { hangman’s adam page masterlist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ summary } — after the brutal texas death match against jon moxley, adam seeks medical attention and ultimately confesses his feelings for you

{ warnings } — blood, injury, medical tools { needles + stitches }

{ word count } — 1.1k

{ pairing } — fem!reader x hangman adam page

{ genre } — fluff

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ taglist } — @boutmachines @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @baysexuality @legit9thlunaticwarrior @slut4kennyomega @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @baybay-boom @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @cosmoholic13

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

his eyes were bloodshot, stinging from the sensation of crimson leaking into them, staining the whites of his eyes. his movements were slow and staggered, an occasional fumble over his steps even with the albeit unwanted help from a worried evil uno, clearly in a state of panic for his cowboy friend despite his emotions being shielded behind his mask. an equally worried pair of john silver and alex reynolds cautiously followed behind, scowls permanent across their faces at just how much damage moxley had done.

blood followed adam’s footsteps, each droplet leaving a stain on the tiles where he once stepped, his vision blurred and burning that he had not even come to the realisation that uno had halted his movements momentarily, stopping in front of the impromptu medical room for tonight's event

“you sure you’re gonna be alright?-” uno questioned with a small falter in his voice, sounding as if he were about to break out into tears of he were to say another word, all the while silver and reynolds remained silent, avoiding the cowboy’s gaze.

“i’ll be fine” adam snapped rather harshly, interrupting uno’s solemn questioning.

the sharpness in adam’s voice made the three friends flinch in surprise. adam was always a soft spoken man, never raised his voice or got angry, none of the sort. although, despite his win, he could not help but feel irritated, on edge slightly, almost afraid that moxley and the other dogs in the blackpool combat club were going to jump him the moment he turned his back.

“we’ll be out here if you need us” the once chipper john silver replied.

his tone rather meek and avoidant, almost not wanting to irritate the cowboy even further, alex only responded with a subtle nod.

adam felt rather awful about his tone, given that his friends did nothing of the sort that would have even warranted it. he stepped into the medical office, mind still a daze as he was met by a blankness of white walls that seemed to be closing in around him.

“jesus christ! that’s a nasty gash you got there cowboy, c’mere” adam’s thoughts were broken by an angelic voice calling to him.

he peered down through the sticky blood in his eyelashes, an arm reaching down to his, wrapping around his taped wrist, leading him to a chair in the far left hand corner of the room.

“damn, mox really did a number on you…” you tsked at the sight of the gruesome injury.

a deep cut just above his right eyebrow, it curved around the inner corner near the beggining of his nose brige. you cupped his cheeks gently to inspect the wound further, adam’s cheeks flushed with heat despite already losing a substantial about of blood just on his arrival.

adam’s mind was still in a daze, his vision has cleared for the most part, especially now since you had wiped the blood from his eyes. he could see your face clearly, your eyebrows knitted in concentration, tongue just barely jutting out past your lips as you made an effort to patch him up. it did not even phase him when you pierced his skin with a needle to numb the area, he simply stared up at you, completely enamored.

“y/n..?” he questioned. he knew your name, he knew it well, he just wanted to hear it fall from his lips.

“that’s my name, cowboy. don’t wear it out” you remarked with a quick wit that adam adored.

“i love you…” he blurted out absentmindedly, the words did not even register once they had left his lips.

his words made your tense up slightly, you were surprised that you did not stab him with the suture needle. adam blinked softly, staring up at you with such adoration he had not even realised you’d stopped stitching him up.

“i uh…i think you’re still a bit delirious, adam…mox must have hit you harder than i thought” you stammered over your words and the absence of his beloved nickname in favour of his real one caught him off guard.

adam came to, finally snapped out of his dreamlike trance. noticing the tenseness in your forearms, you hands shaking slightly with nerves.

“i mean it…” adam’s remark was soft, barely above a whisper as you finished patching up his wounds.

your fingertips were apprehensive, yet gentle against his skin. adam had had these feelings for a while now, it sparked after his concussion in cincinnati, you were the first to check on him, he laid face up, you were the first thing he saw when he came to, the harsh arena lights haloed around your soft features making you look more angelic that usual.

you finished your work, placing dabbing the area with a small piece of gauze to clean up any excess blood, stepping back to admire your work amongst the beauty and chaos of his features

“you do?” you hesitated for a moment, words mumbled softly into the air as adam merely responded with a soft nod. you stood there for a moment, reluctant to admit your own feelings for the handsome cowboy

“why? i’m nothing special…”

adam felt his heart break at your sentence.

“no, y/n that’s the thing. you’re so fuckin’ special to me” he emphasised the last two words of his sentence.

“that night in cincinnati, you were the first one there, you were the one who came with me in that ambulance, the one who came to the hospital every morning to check on me” he paused for a moment, reaching for you hand to hold, one of which your accepted, albeit hesitantly.

“and i know it’s your job or whatever but…no one’s ever cared for me like that before…” adam’s eyes burned although he was not sure exactly if it was the result of the blood previously in them or fresh tears pricking at his waterlines

. his bottom lip quivered with the faintest of movement, his gaze still avoiding you’re own, his grip had tightened the slightest around your hand, afraid to let go.

with a free hand your cupped his cheek delicately in your palm, the subtle scratch of his beard was a welcomed feeling against your skin, prying his face up slowly, his eyes finally meeting your own.

“i never want to experience anything like that night again, adam. when i saw you passed out in that ring…god i…i thought i’d lost you” adam had noticed your eyes begin to well with hot tears, instinctively pulling you into his lap, his head pressed atop of yours, simply cradling you in his chest, a sweet yet hesitant kiss pressed to your forehead

“you’ll never lose me, darlin’”

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

[slytherinshua]

KISS AND MAKE UP

genre. fluff. angst. hurt/comfort ig. warnings. crying. fighting. kissing. pairing. fiancé!sejun x fem!reader. wc. 1.4k. request. requested by @nyukyujs: arguing over the phone and you end up crying which makes lim sejun rush over to your place. a/n. the victon brainrot is back folks... what if sejun was my bias (skdjsk IM JOKING IM JOKING)

“How am I supposed to know when you don’t communicate, Sejun?! I scheduled the date for tonight 2 weeks ago! You didn’t say a word about extra practices until 10 minutes ago! I thought you’d be home an hour ago.” You yelled through the phone. You were getting frustrated with the situation, which was unfortunately translating into bursting out at your fiance. This didn’t happen often with Sejun, but it had started to happen more and more recently, and you hated it. Usually he was good with his schedule. Things hadn’t popped up out of nowhere like this in 2 years. You weren’t sure why you were unable to handle it right now.

You heard a tired sigh from the other side of the phone, “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/n. The guys are waiting for me.” He sounded annoyed. In the back of your head, you knew he had every right to be.

You had texted him after you had gotten ready for the date, asking when he would get home. The week had been extremely busy for him, and the date that you had so carefully planned had completely slipped his mind. Extra dance practices and song recording sessions were scheduled for the entire night. You knew that Sejun couldn’t just drop them to go on a silly dinner date with you.

“If you had just said something yesterday then I could’ve cancelled the reservations! I’m already at the restaurant.” You gulped down an uncomfortable itch in your throat. Your nose burned and you knew that tears would be next. Fighting with Sejun was hands down your least favourite activity. You wanted to sink into the ground and never come up again.

“Did you see how fucking tired I was yesterday!? I barely had energy to take a shower before bed!” His response rang in your ear uncomfortably and you let out a shaky sigh. He was right. Of course he was right. You were being unreasonable for expecting this date to happen after his busy schedule all week.

“I… I don’t know, Sejun.” You mumbled, breaking down a little. You tried to hide your shaky breath and sniffles, but you were sure he caught onto them. “I missed you so much— I just wanted tonight to be for us.” You choked out, a sob ringing through the air. You had already hailed a cab amidst your tears. You just wanted to get home as quickly as possible. There was no use waiting at the restaurant when your fiance would be a no-show.

“Are you crying, Y/n?” This question came a little softer than the previous ones. The sound of your sniffles must have been enough to alert him to your distress. You cried pretty easily, and Sejun was used to it— but he could definitely decipher when the situation was serious.

Though he wasn’t sure if you knew or not, he was worried about you. How could he not be? He hadn’t really been able to spend time with you for days on end; and for two people whose relationship 70% of the time consisted of clinging to each other, he had felt the toll as much as you had. You said you missed him, and he missed you as well. So, so much.

The question— the worry in his voice— had you crying even harder. You still tried to keep it quiet for the sake of the taxi driver, but you didn’t hide it from Sejun. You held the phone up to your ear, squishing it right against your skin.

“Please talk to me. Please.” You whispered through broken sobs, yearning to hear his voice calming you down instead of yelling at you.

“Baby.” He spoke through the phone immediately, ignoring Byungchan’s questions about what was taking so long from the other room. You realized it had been too long since he had last called you that. Just him saying that much was enough to get your breathing more even.

“You know I care about you more than this stupid practice, right? I’m gonna be there as soon as I can.” You heard a door shut and some keys clash against each other.

“No- Sejun, it’s fine, you should stay at practice.” You urged, suddenly panicked that you had made a big deal out of things when you shouldn’t have.

“I’ll make it up later. I’ll be okay. Just wanna be back with you right now.” He reassured you. You didn’t have the energy to fight with him again— just wanting to agree to anything and everything he suggested. So you found yourself humming, mumbling an “I love you” and an “I’ll see you soon” to him.

Sejun arrived home soon after you did, and he wrapped his arms around you as soon as he walked through the door. With your face buried in his chest, arms wrapped around his waist and his around your shoulders, you finally felt relaxed. He rubbed his hand up and down your back, soothing you further. 

“My sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, kissing your forehead gently. You looked up at him, eyes shiny still from crying earlier. The way he looked down at you, worry and sorry and love all swimming in his eyes, you felt like you could drown if you looked at him for a second longer. You weren’t sure how he looked so pretty. He had been working hard all day, and rushed over as soon as he heard you crying. You probably looked like a mess beside him. As if he could hear your negative thoughts, he hugged you closer and whispered in your ear.

“You look so gorgeous, angel.” The whisper was soft, a little bit raspy from his spent vocal cords having recorded almost all week; but it was sincere. You knew that he could never be disingenuous with you when you were the most precious thing in his life, and your heart still raced a little faster knowing that he found you attractive.

He found you attractive despite the mascara stains near your eyes, despite your hair that you haphazardly took down as soon as you arrived home. He thought you were gorgeous even though you had changed out of your black dress and into sweats.

Though you knew he was being serious, the thought still made you laugh. A quiet giggle escaped your throat, triggering Sejun’s heartier laughter. The sound made his heart leap, and again, he squeezed you just a bit tighter, rocking you back and forth in his arms like you were the most precious thing.

“What do you want to do tonight? The dinner date failed.” You asked.

Sejun hummed, “I think we should order in. I should take a shower and get dressed all cozy like you so that we can cuddle. And then we should look through your Pinterest board for wedding dresses. But first…”

“First?”

“First I’m going to kiss you.” He completed with a contented smile, leaning down quickly to fulfil his wish. Your lips tasted as soft and sweet as ever, and Sejun practically melted at the feeling after being deprived of it for so long. It really had been days since he had kissed you properly— not a fleeting peck on your lips, but something longer and sweeter. Something more vulnerable and precious. Something that left you both breathless and euphoric when it was over— a kiss that he wished would never end because he knew nothing felt better than your lips on his. 

And that was exactly what he got, as you were just as eager to feel him so close after so long. Your hands slipped into his hair, feeling the long strands flow through your fingers. You sighed when he squeezed your hip gently, a smile creeping onto his lips at the elated feeling in his chest.

You pulled him as close to you as possible, in hopes that he would never leave the position. And he didn’t want to; but he didn’t have a choice. He was running out of breath, and he was sure that you were just as worse, having a smaller lung capacity than he did. He compensated the kiss ending by cradling your head and placing several smaller kisses to the top of it.

“I love you so much.” He confessed— probably for the millionth time since he had met you.

You giggled, still catching your breath, “I know. I love you too. Let’s complete that plan you had now, hm?”

He hummed happily in response, pecking your lips one more time before grabbing a towel for a quick shower.

↳ victon taglist: @yeonjuns-redhair,, @skz-minchan-enthusiast,, @edensgardenn,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @weird-bookworm

[surveilenceysystem]

「 COOKIES AND SHENANIGANS」

Character(s): Kang Yeosang x fem!reader

Synopsis: A Christmas at the dorm

Genre: Romance

Trope: Established Relationships

Trigger Warning: horrendously written fluff 😃

Network: @cultofdionysusnet

For: @nebulousbrainsoup

Divider: @cafekitsune

WC: 700

A/n: At first I wanted to write about a holiday destination in a snowy mountain but then I remembered I've never seen snow so here you have my shitty attemptat writing how i feel like the ideal (delusional) Christmas should be. Hope you like this Orion, I'm unfortunately very very bad at writing fluff so im sorry for this horrendously horrible fluff honestly it feels half written and kinda disjointed. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!🎄🎁

The first thing Yeosang noticed in his sleepy state was the delicious smell of coffee and cookies. Possibly from the living room, he can hear the chaos of conversations downstairs as he sits up at his bed, an unconscious smile growing across his lips. Today was not like the other days when he wanted to go back to sleep—in fact, it was the exact opposite. He was eager to get up.

He hurried to the bathroom to freshen up, flinging the covers off of him. He realised it was snowing as he raced through his morning routine. And from his window, the view was breathtaking.

For him, it was a unique moment of peace……that is until it was broken by Wooyoung's laughter.

He hears a chorus of laughter as he leaves the comforts of his room. Halfway down the steps, he witnesses Wooyoung and San laughing wildly at Mingi as he sits on the floor and whines.

He doesn't have time to consider a question or a reaction before his eyes meet Y/n's, whose eyes brighten the moment she sees him.

"Good morning and merry Christmas, my love," Y/n smiles while she walks up to him and puts her hand on his cheek. She kisses him briefly but sweetly on the lip. She takes his hand and leads him downstairs to the living room, where the mayhem continues to unfold..

"What exactly happened here?" He questioned, amused at how wooyoung, who was still breaking into fits of giggles, managed to respond to Yeosang while mingi remained on the ground, sulking.

"Guess whose gingerbread house fucking crumbled? Mingi was bragging about how 'peRFeCt HiS hOUse wAs gOnNa bE' while we were making them." Yeosang could hear Mingi mumble something incoherent as his fiancée gave him a sympathetic back rub.

Yeosang looks at y/n, who had been staring at him already. She giggles for a moment, then quickly gathers herself.

"Mingi tried his best; guys don't bully him." Everyone else—aside from Wooyoung—stopped laughing at the subtle irony in San's tone, which led Mingi into yet another fit of whining.

In an effort to put an end to their antics, Y/n ushered everyone to complete their share of the last-minute decorations. Yeosang follows her into the kitchen and notes how everything will be set up on the counter, including cooking utensils and goods. He turned to face Y/n, who was holding a dish and had already put on an apron.

"What are you making?" Curious, he asked. Y/n kept swiftly moving around the kitchen as she kept gathering things.

"With everything that just happened, I think I'll make the cookies first. The plan was to make gingerbread houses, pies, and then cookies." Y/n gestures for him to sit by pointing to a chair, and she smiles at him then returns back to focusing on the baking.

Yeosang watched his lover at work, her nose pinched in concentration and her brows furrowed. As Yeosang got caught up in her, the background conversation gradually subsided. The way she walked, like the breeze carrying the crisp fragrance of freshly brewed coffee. It was like a hot cup of comfort every time she acknowledged him with a grin. How periodically she would lean in to kiss the top of his head, making his pulse skip a beat.

It brought back to him all the little things about her that he cherished. How she would kiss the spot beside his eye every time. How, when he went by, she would shield him from the jagged edges of the furniture so as to avoid injuries. How, each time they crossed the street, she would hold fast onto his hand. How she would blow on any hot food before offering it to him. How his friends adored her so much, and how she cared for them. His admiration for her stemmed from all of these reasons and more.

Maybe he'll pop the question sooner than later.

[starsstuddedsky]

hi hi hi! im a new follower but already so invested in "as a matter of fact". i think the storyline is amazing and i can't wait for more updates >< and my wish to your star is a fic of a love triangle b/w seungkwan, wonu and our girl y/n :) if you decide to accept this (totally cool if you don't) - i think a uni au would be nice with tons of fluff and angst. and you can decide who to end up with! thank you for reading this, your works are amazing and take care <33

Date #4

seungkwan x reader, wonwoo x reader

summary: Seungkwan and the crushing realization of having feelings for a friend

genre: angst, fluff, uni au

warnings: food mention, alcohol mention, swearing(?)

wc: 2.4k

a/n: hello!!! tysm for this request!! first of all, i'm sorry it took me so long to get to this, i was in a bit of a writing rut and also real life is so difficult.. that said i had a lot of fun writing this and i hope it isn't took different from what you imagined!! i'm not the biggest fan of love triangles (read: i despite them) so idk how this turned out.. pls pls enjoy &lt;/3

req masterlist | guidelines

Seungkwan has his apron on, tied behind his back in a bow (a skill he learned during the two months he survived working at Foot Locker). He chose all black, turtleneck tucked into his loose jeans, even digging out the sneakers he got (discount price) when he thought he was actually going to run every day. He shudders at the memory of wearing the Foot Locker uniform, thankful yet again to find a job at Soren’s. Close to campus, minimal dress code and iced Americanos whenever he wants them. Plus it rarely gets busy, so most of the time Seungkwan gets paid to read behind the counter. 

He drums his fingers on the counter, scanning the limited view of the sidewalk that the window provides. If only he could take down the giant poster, promoting some campus band, especially since the concert was two months ago. 

He smiles at the memory. Two months ago, the first of these little schemes. You wore your favorite jeans and the purple sweater, with the swirly patterns that Jihoon makes fun of for looking like obscene shapes. Seungkwan had to promise you that Jihoon was just being immature, and there were middle fingers and dicks absolutely nowhere on you. 

That was back when you still had faith in your dates. 

He can see two pairs of shoes underneath the poster, the Sketchers he got you (also discount price) and unfamiliar Nikes that are gray and worn down. Seungkwan is tempted to pour the cup of water already. 

Because of the cursed poster, he can’t see you until you’re opening the door, the little bell jingling softly. It’s still a fond noise to Seungkwan, a notice that customers have arrived and he’ll have to actually earn his paycheck. Jeonghan, the other barista, hates the noise, obvious by the way he drags his feet approaching the register. He shoots a glare at Seungkwan as he walks past, though he agreed to this at the start of the shift. 

“Welcome to Soren’s, how can I help you?” Jeonghan asks in a cheery voice. He stands straight and even though his back is to Seungkwan, he knows that the older boy is flashing a blindingly bright smile and perfectly covering his disdain for the job. 

From his stool on the corner, Seungkwan gets the perfect vantage point to judge your date. He’s tall, broad shoulders, wearing a loose navy blue sweater and brown corduroy pants. A point in his favor, definitely better than Failed Date #2 (Seungkwan still wants to know who let him go on a date in flip flops and board shorts). He has thick glasses, round frames that sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose, which is straight and looks like it’s never been broken (a step up from Failed Date #1, who managed to break his nose during the date). 

This date was set up by Jun (much more reputable than Mingyu by Seungkwan’s judgment). According to Jun, he met the dude in his freshman English class, and cited him as the sole reason Jun passed the class. “Certified genius” were the exact words he used to describe Jeon Wonwoo. 

You order first, though Seungkwan doesn’t need to listen to know what to make. He gets off the stool, hands moving without looking; he’s made your order so many times since he started working here, he could do it in his sleep. 

“I’ll take a caramel latte, iced,” Wonwoo says. His voice is smooth and deep, even Seungkwan feels his heart skip a beat. So far so good. He remembers a night where you were rather drunk and very rambly, and mentioned how you found deep voices attractive. 

Seungkwan doesn’t miss how Wonwoo pays without a word, passing his card to Jeonghan before you can say anything. Another point to the Date #4. Seungkwan has to actually pay attention to his job now, ignoring the faces Jeonghan is making at him. He pours the drinks carefully, making sure nothing sticky is left on the outside of your cup since apparently he got syrup on it last time. 

Seungkwan is proud of how quickly he finishes the drinks. He has gotten rather good at being a barista, though it feels arrogant to say. He sets them on the counter, calling out the order. You and Wonwoo stand at the same time, and your table is close enough for Seungkwan to hear the awkward laugh. 

“Why don’t we go together?” You say, gesturing for him to lead the way. Wonwoo nods, and even though his back is to you, he still smiles. Seungkwan feels a prickle in his stomach watching you two walk up together. You look good together, he realizes. 

You don’t look at him when you pick up your drink, muttering thank you under your breath. Seungkwan has to force himself to smile and nod at Wonwoo, who meets his eyes and thanks him, holding up his glass in a small toast. 

He watches you return to your table and decides it has to be a good sign that you are avoiding him. It must mean the date is going well, since you aren’t making faces at him or giving him the signal. 

You sit facing Wonwoo, though you’re also facing Seungkwan. He shifts the stool so that he can watch you out of the corner of his eye without outright staring. He’d hate to miss the signal like last time. 

The minutes drag by. Seungkwan can’t hear much from behind the bar, but can he see your face light up in that lovely smile that makes your cheekbones pop, see the way you lean into the table when Wonwoo is talking. And even when both your drinks are empty and the ice is melting, you don’t make any move to get up or give him the signal. 

Seungkwan sips on the cup of water before realizing he’s meant to spill it on you. He sets it down, realizing this means he has to resort to plan B. Even if you don’t look like you’re going to give the signal, he should stay ready. It’s his duty, as your friend. 

Friend. He frowns at the word. That is, by definition, his relationship to you, someone with whom there is mutual affection. He is affectionate to you, but watching someone else make you smile, for the first time he wonders if affection is all he feels. 

He ducks his head, wiping the counter down. These thoughts are dangerous, capacity-to-destroy-a-relationship level of dangerous. You’ve always been a precious friend to him, and he won’t throw it away because he maybe thinks he feels something. 

It’s true he’s thought of it before; the first time was in the library, when someone wanted to borrow a chair and mistakenly thought you were dating. It was a careless mistake but for a moment Seungkwan entertained the thought. It passed quickly, his essay on data ethics taking priority, but every once in a while he’ll be by your side and wonder what it would be like to be more than friends. Passing thoughts that vanish before they can destroy him. 

Seungkwan scrubs at the sink, waiting for this thought to pass, but it’s taken root in his stomach, twisting and turning. He has had one iced americano too many, and everything is a clouded mess. 

“What are you doing?” Jeonghan hisses from next to him. “That’s the wrong rag!” He snatches the rag from Seungkwan’s hand, tossing it in the back. Jeonghan shakes his head. “I trained you better than this. Sponges and orange rags only for cleaning the sinks!” 

“Sorry,” Seungkwan mutters, glancing back at you. 

“It’s going well this time,” Jeonghan says. Seungkwan turns to see that Jeonghan isn’t even trying to hide his snooping. He’d shove the older boy if he didn’t think it would get him fired. 

“Can’t you be subtle?” He whispers. 

“No fun,” Jeonghan says, craning his neck to try and get a better look at Wonwoo. 

“I never should have told you anything.” 

“Nonsense, I’m an integral part of this team,” Jeonghan says. “Plus you’re conducting this on company property, I have to make sure you don’t get us sued or anything.” 

“Since when have you cared about getting sued,” Seungkwan says, remembering last week when Jeonghan got into an argument with a customer. 

“I care about getting sued when my protégé can’t focus on his job because he’s too busy being overly invested in the love life of his friend.” 

“How noble.” Seungkwan dares to peek at you again. Is he imagining things? 

No, you’re definitely tucking your hair behind your ear with both hands, though you aren’t looking at him. Still, the signal is the signal. Seungkwan ignores Jeonghan, grabbing the mop bucket from the back. It’s time to prove his worth. 

The mop bucket clatters on the tiled floor, drowning out your conversation. Seungkwan decides it’s fate; he doesn’t need to know why you called for evacuation, he just needs to help get you out. 

So he trips. He doesn’t know how convincing he is, especially when he puts most of his effort into tipping the bucket of water over via mop handle. Unfortunately, as he falls, Seungkwan realizes two things. First, he miscalculates how much strength it would take to tip the bucket, and instead of knocking it over, he sends it flying into the air. Second, he thought the water was still clean but Jeonghan must have mopped before his shift started because the water flying into the air is very soapy and very dirty. 

Seungkwan falls flat on his back, mop handle clattering next to him. He squeezes his eyes and mouth shut as the water sprays all over. 

“Oh. My. God.” He hears your voice and opens his eyes slowly. You sit in the chair, hand over your mouth and Seungkwan realizes he didn’t just spray himself. 

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks. He stands, the chair kicking up mop water. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” He holds out a hand to Seungkwan, covered in mop water. Seungkwan tries to think of an excuse to say no but comes up with nothing, so he takes the other man’s hand and cringes when he notices the water on his glasses. 

Seungkwan has failed before, but never this exponentially terribly. 

“I’m fine.” Seungkwan says, unable to take his eyes off you. Why haven’t you gotten up yet? 

“You’re sort of…” Wonwoo points to his chest. Seungkwan groans. He’s covered in the mop water, seeping through the apron. It’s probably all over his face. 

“Here,” Jeonghan says, passing paper towels to you and Wonwoo. “I apologize for the clumsiness of my coworker, he’s new.” Jeonghan glares at Seungkwan, sticking a paper towel to his forehead. 

“I’m so sorry,” Seungkwan chokes out, reaching up to peel the paper towel off his face and use it to wipe off some of the water. Maybe Jeonghan will let him go home early, or, even better, follow through on one of his threats and toss Seungkwan in the dumpster behind the store. 

“It’s alright,” Wonwoo says. “Accidents happen, no harm no foul.” 

You say nothing, staring at Seungkwan. He feels so small when you look at him like that, frown creasing your brow, like you don’t understand why he would do something like this, like you don’t know him at all. 

“Sorry,” he mutters again. 

“It’s fine,” you finally say, though your smile isn’t very convincing. “We’re fine, right?” 

Wonwoo nods. “Absolutely fine, though I think I’ll have to wash this as soon as possible.” 

“Oh,” you say. “Right. Me too, I guess.” 

Wonwoo laughs. “I had fun, though.” Seungkwan knows that he should follow Jeonghan behind the counter but his feet are planted to the ground, stuck standing between you and Wonwoo listening to your very first successful blind date. Except you gave him the signal. Right? 

“I’d like to do this again,” Wonwoo continues, “though maybe with slightly less water involved.” He glances at Seungkwan, as if just realizing that he’s still standing there. Everything in him screams to run but he can’t get his legs to move. 

“Oh,” you say. You don’t look away from Wonwoo. “I… I think I’d like that too.” 

Seungkwan’s heart drops. He hates the feeling immediately, he knows that he should be happy that you’ve found someone and yet his stomach still twists. 

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you,” Wonwoo says. He smiles at you one last time before walking toward the door. Seungkwan watches him leave, sees the exact moment he pauses (one foot out the door) to get one last look at you. And then he’s gone.

“What the hell, Seungkwan?” you cry as soon as the door shuts. 

“You gave me the signal!” He says. He tucks invisible hair behind his ears with both hands. “Double tuck!” 

You frown, probably trying to remember whether you actually did it or not. But Seungkwan knows it doesn’t matter. He should have seen how happy you were. With Wonwoo. 

“I really am sorry,” he says, folding his arms. 

“It’s alright,” you say before he finishes talking. “He didn’t take it badly. Actually, he took it quite well.” You smile. “I think I could really like him.” 

Good, Seungkwan tries to say. Then, I’m happy for you. The words get stuck in his throat. And he knows why, the forbidden words lurking at the edge of his thoughts, the twisted sickness that has been growing for so long without his knowledge cannot be ignored anymore, not when it demands a name. Jealousy, the cruel monster. 

Jealousy because without realizing it, he stopped thinking of you as just a friend. It’s not fair to call you anything more, but Seungkwan can’t keep pretending that this is enough, that he doesn’t want to imagine more. He’s spent too long denying it that the floodgates have opened and can’t pretend like he doesn’t want to be the one making you smile, the one you call in the middle of the night because you had a bad dream, the one you call in the middle of the day just because. He wants to look at you and not feel guilty.

But he knows you’ve never looked at him like that, not when you keep going on these dates. So what now? He can tell you the truth, risk losing you completely. Or he can stand back and watch you inevitably fall in love with Wonwoo, or some other man that sweeps you off your feet. 

He stands before you, covered in mop water and sick to his stomach. And he makes a decision. 

a/n2: i'm sorry if anyone doesn't like this ending i just really hate love triangles,, feel free to believe whatever you want about what happens next

[sunshiline-writes]

A Rose Amidst Thorns #13: A Promise Amidst the Nightmare

okay so.. imma be real this took me so long and im still not super happy with it. But if I don't post it now I never will so.. enjoy.. CW: lady whump, poc whump, mentioned minor whump (just barely), choking, mentions of historical slavery (please don't kill me), gore, hanging, torture, dehumanization, fear of death, fear of witnessing death Whumpee referred as a dog a lot idk man, toxic relationships, past abusive relationship, past toxic relationship, complicated character dynamics, fade to black noncon, thoughts of murder I THINK that's everything, let me know if I missed anything. Previous | Masterlist | Next

There was blood on the floor. Solomon’s blood. It scattered on the wood, drops staining it. Henrietta had already cleaned the broken plate, now she was working on the blood. She was cleaning her friend's blood from the ground. Xavier had beat him until he was almost unrecognizable. His eyes had swollen, his skin had turned red and purple. His lips swollen and split. He barely even looked human. Solomon was unconscious by the time Xavier dragged him upstairs. 

She was ordered to clean the blood. No matter how much she scrubbed and scraped, the blood wouldn’t come out of the wood. It had stained it, become one with it. They had waited too long. Her knees hurt from being on them for so long. Her hands were dried and cracked from the soapy water and cloth she had used to try and clean. Everything frustrated her, the stains in the wood, the stains on her dress. Her nose was still throbbing from its earlier assault. 

Henrietta pressed her forehead against the ground and sighed. The pressure of the ground against her was nice. She took deep steadying breaths, trying her best to calm her racing heart. When she opened her eyes, there was still blood. 

“Get up.” 

Henrietta pushed herself to her knees, staring up at Xavier. Tears welling in her eyes. There was no warmth in Xavier, all she felt from him was the cold rage. He grabbed her by the arm when she didn’t get up fast enough, pulling her forward, dragging her with him. “Just wait.. I-” Henrietta started to say, but she was cut off by a short growl. Xavier continued to half drag, half walk her out the door of their house. Their house, she still called it their house. It was hard to break that habit. It was his house, now she was just living in it. She knew that she was being taken to the barn. How could she not know? It was right in front of her, getting closer with every step. 

“Xavier, please..” she whispered as he threw the door open. What was she begging for? Henrietta didn’t know. His grip only tightened on her arm, bruising. One more to add to the array on her body.  

“Just shut up already,” he growled, shoving her forward. 

She stumbled forward and tried to avoid falling on her face. When she finally looked up, she gasped. In the middle of the barn lay Miguel. Rope around him that had recently been cut. His legs were still tied together. There was a noose around his neck, though the rest of the rope hung off a beam in the ceiling. 

“Xavier what did you do?”   

“Nothing he didn’t deserve. There’s a chair on the other side. Go sit in it,” he said, voice low and rough. 

“Xavier I don’t understa-” 

His hand shot out and he grabbed her by the throat. Squeezing and shoving her backwards. She stumbled back instinctively, eyes going wide and mouth opening in an attempt to get some air. Xavier walked backwards until her hind legs hit the back of the chair and he shoved her down to sit. Hand still wrapped her throat, he squeezed. Her lungs and throat burned. Everything was blurry and her vision went dark around the edges. When she started to slump, he let her go. She gasped, taking in lungfuls of air. 

“Stay there,” he growled, “I want you to watch.” 

Henrietta was too busy sucking in lungfuls of air to really grasp what he was doing. She couldn’t get enough air. When she finally could breathe without her vision fading, she looked up. Xavier’s hands were on the rope. The rope that hung loosely over the beam in the ceiling, the one connected to the noose around Miguel's neck. Xavier’s eyes connected with hers. Then he pulled on the rope. 

“Xavier stop!” she screamed as choked sounds came from Miguel. His feet slid on the wood and his hands clawed at the rope around his neck. “You’re going to kill him!” 

“Why shouldn’t I? Would it really matter if I did? He’s just a dog.” Xavier’s eyes were wild, unhinged. He looked as if he really would kill Miguel, right here, in front of her. 

Henrietta improvised. Trying to take the attention off the choking boy in front of her, who was turning blue. “Xavier. Please. Please don’t do this. I’ll never forgive you. I’ll kill you.” 

He released the rope and Miguel fell to the ground with a dull thud, gasping and choking for air. Miguel was crying, shaking and sobbing. When had Xavier put on the blindfold? Henrietta didn’t recall. Her memories were flooded. 

“You’ll kill me? Over a mutt?” Xavier asked softly. Releasing the rope from his hands. “Didn’t you ever love me?” 

Henrietta’s eyes widened. She did once. A long time ago. Before Xavier was all rage and hatred. He wasn’t always like this. Or maybe he was, she was just blind to it. In her youth, she was blind to a lot of things. She was blind to the way he was built, all hard stone and jagged edges. Darkness surrounded him and perhaps, just for a little bit she was attracted to that darkness. She thought she had needed the darkness. Henrietta hadn’t realized that Xavier’s darkness was all consuming, destroying everything in its wake. 

Her parents had grown up in darkness. They had been freed  from slavery by their masters paying for their papers. They earned that money playing music for people.  Their masters had claimed their talents were wasted as slaves. So they set them free. How strange some people were, seeing a beautiful thing and instead of wanting to keep it, they wanted to see it flourish. Henrietta had grown up free, by the time she was four or five, slavery had been abolished and her parents had danced and drank. Her mother sang loudly, more loud than she had ever heard her sing. Her father’s violin had never sounded so happy. It was her most fond memory of her childhood. 

When she had seen Xavier for the first time, as a young woman, she was attracted to his calm outer shell. The way he was so confident and the way he tried to charm her. She liked the attention. Was that what caught her in the snare? The attention? 

She had always liked the love of the crowd. When they laughed and jeered it fueled her. Made her want to prove them wrong. She always proved them wrong. Her mother always said that spite would get her in trouble. After she married Xavier, it always did. She liked the fight, liked the way he would get frustrated and try to control himself when she did something particularly spiteful. Henrietta had enjoyed it, she had loved it. She loved him once. 

Henrietta had slowly fallen out of love when his anger became more and more uncontrolled. When every slight thing sets him off. He never hurt her, not really. It was the words that cut deep and true. The slow effort to control every aspect of her life. The last straw was Miguel. 

When he had brought him home, she had asked what he was going to do with him. 

I just got myself a new dog, I think, was the response.  

It wasn’t until a few years later though, after a particular conversation with Miguel and Solomon that sealed the deal. That made love turn into hate.  *

“What's the book about?” 

“Anger.” 

“Anger?” She repeated the sign, unsure of what it meant. The boy spelt it out for her. “Anger.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The Captain. He’s so angry all the time. He gets so angry he forgets about his crew and he’s focused on killing the whale.” 

“Oh. Did you like book?” 

“No. Everyone dies.” 

“Not everyone.” Solomon gently corrected, Miguel shrugged. He was fifteen at the time. And the shrug had become a common response. It was the only time she saw his real personality come out. Slightly sassy, and intense. 

“Ishmael lives,” Solomon continued. 

“You remind me of Ishmael.” 

“Oh? What about Hen?” 

Henrietta gave him a small smile. 

“The Captain.” 

Henrietta’s smile faded. No one expected that response. Solomon gave a nervous chuckle. 

“Oh. Well.. what about you? Who are you in the story Miguel?” 

His expression turned sour. Shrugging again and signing his next words with practiced ease.

“There are no dogs in the book.” 

There are no dogs in the book.  *

Xavier had made him believe that he was not a person. He was not a character in the book. He was just a dog. Nothing more than a slave. It reminded her of the stories her mother would sing about being a slave. It was the thing that broke her. “I did love you once. But you became a monster.” 

How easy it was, for love to turn into hatred. They weren’t all that different. Two sides of the same coin. Both such passionate fiery emotions that could tear the world apart if used correctly. 

Xavier grabbed her by the throat again, growling and hissing something. She couldn’t even help the choked laugh that escaped her. The fire that was growing in her chest. The hatred that poured from her, from him. The love that used to reside in that space between them had rotted and twisted into that hardly distinguishable hatred. 

Henrietta preferred the hatred. 

Xavier was her white whale. 

He stopped choking her, looking into her eyes, searching for something. Slowly, he stepped back. There was a chasm between them. It was a relief and it broke her heart. 

“All of this over a fucking kid.” 

“He’s not a kid anymore.” 

“You’re not my wife anymore.” 

Henrietta stared at him with a sense of indignation. “I haven’t been for a long time. We both know that.” 

Xavier smiled at her, cruel, unforgiving. “Yes. You’re right,” he lifted his hand to rub his face. “On your knees.” 

She didn’t move. It was always going to end like this. With him throwing her to the ground, wrenching her on her knees by the hair. His grip stayed firm in her hair as he undid his belt. Henrietta was going to kill him. She was going to kill him and use his own spurs to slit his throat. 

This was a promise.  __

Taglist:

@demondamage @burntcoffeewhump @angst-after-dark @just-a-silly-little-whumper @tictac-murder-spaghetti @crash-bump-bring-the-whump @whumpifi-reads

@flowersarefreetherapy @badgerwhump @whumpbees @whumplr-reader

ask if you'd like to be added or removed!!