#is he actually back to being a total asshole to everyone and not giving a fuck or is he just trying to pretend so he isn't vulnerable again

[homoeroticgrappling]

He ain't slick, I saw what it said before he edited it

I will now be overthinking about this until Saturday

[sidekick-hero]

“Hey, have you seen Harrington? Guy’s totally wasted. Can't even stand. Tried to get up, fell down like a goddamn turtle. Garrison's over there throwing chips at him. It’s hysterical, you gotta check this out, man.”

The upside to being the guy everyone calls ‘the Freak’—the guy no one wants to talk to unless they’re looking to buy—is that Eddie can disappear whenever he wants. And tonight, he’s been in full stealth mode, almost ghost-like in the way he drifts through the shadows of this overcrowded house party. When he’s not standing on lunch tables at school, giving speeches, or taunting the assholes who think they run the place, Eddie finds that people tend to forget he’s even there.

Which makes it real easy to hear all kinds of things he probably shouldn’t. Not that Carver's announcement is any kind of secret, not with the way he’s broadcasting it to the entire room. Ever since Harrington lost his King Steve status, the rest of the jock squad has been scrambling to claw their way to the top. It’s desperate. Pathetic, really, if you ask him. But no one’s ever asking Eddie for his opinion.

He should get out of here. Most of his stash is gone, and it’s getting late. There’s leftover mac and cheese in the fridge with his name on it, and if he bolts now, he might just catch the midnight rerun of The Thing.

Eddie tries to ignore the mental image of Harrington—Steve, Steve—sprawled out on that grimy carpet, covered in crumbs and dirt, drenched in stale beer. He must feel defenseless. The kind of defenseless that Eddie knows too well, the kind that gets you laughed at, or worse. But just because Harrington buys a dime bag off him every week doesn’t mean they’re friends. Even if they’ve had a few surprisingly not-awful conversations. Even if Steve’s actually kind of funny for a rich kid, for a jock.

There’s no reason for Eddie to care about what’s happening to Steve Harrington, just like Steve never cared about him.

So why the hell are his feet carrying him toward the living room instead of the back door? Why is he elbowing people out of the way, pushing through the circle of gawkers around Steve? Why are his hands grabbing Steve by the shoulders, hauling him up, and dragging him out before anyone even knows what’s happening?

And why, for the love of God, is he driving to his trailer with Steve snoring in the passenger seat, instead of dumping the guy at his parents' mansion and going home?

Eddie wishes he knew. But his body’s on autopilot, and he’s watching it all happen like he's outside himself, like he’s not the one doing it.

The trailer park is quiet, too quiet for a Saturday night, but that’s January for you—cold as a witch's tit, and getting colder. The van’s heater barely works, and Eddie can see both their breaths fogging up the air, little puffs of steam in the dark.

Eddie cuts the engine, and the sudden silence fills the van like a held breath. Steve shifts in the seat, muttering something incoherent, his head lolling against the window. For a split second, Eddie considers just leaving him here. Would serve him right, honestly. Let King Steve wake up alone, freezing his ass off in a busted van in a trailer park at the edge of town. But then Steve lets out a soft groan, and Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes.

"You're a real piece of work, Harrington," he mutters under his breath, pushing open the driver's side door.

The cold air hits him like a slap, biting through his jacket and sending a shiver down his spine. He makes his way around to the passenger side, yanking open the door and catching Steve before he can tumble out. The guy's heavier than he looks—dead weight, limp as a rag doll. Eddie grunts, struggling for a grip, and finally manages to sling one of Steve's arms over his shoulder.

"Okay, big boy, up you go," Eddie mutters, half-dragging, half-carrying Steve toward the trailer. Steve's head drops forward, his hair brushing Eddie’s cheek, and he smells like a mix of beer, Steve's usual cologne, and something else—something clean, like laundry detergent or fresh air. It's weirdly comforting, and Eddie has to shake himself out of it.

Inside, the trailer is dim, lit only by the glow of the old TV Eddie left on. He kicks the door shut behind them, maneuvering Steve over to the sagging couch. Steve flops down with a heavy thud, eyes still closed, mouth slightly open. For a second, Eddie just stands there, looking at him, wondering what the hell he’s doing.

Why didn’t he just leave him there at the party? Why did he care?

Maybe it's because Steve looks different like this. Not the smug, popular guy who used to strut down the halls like he owned the place. Not the guy who had everything and then lost it all. Just... some kid, really. Some scared, drunk kid who probably doesn’t know where he fits anymore.

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty,” Eddie mutters, leaning down to untie Steve’s sneakers. “Let’s get you comfortable before you choke on your own puke.”

As he pulls off one shoe, then the other, Steve stirs, his eyelids fluttering. For a moment, his gaze is unfocused, hazy, but then his eyes lock onto Eddie’s, and there’s a flicker of recognition.

“Munson?” Steve’s voice is low, rough from whatever he’s been drinking. “What the hell…?”

“Yeah, it’s me, genius,” Eddie says, trying to sound annoyed but failing to hide the faint smile tugging at his lips. “You got yourself in a bit of a mess tonight, Harrington.”

Steve blinks, slowly piecing things together. “Why’d you bring me here?”

Eddie shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Seemed like the right thing to do, I guess.”

Steve snorts, like he doesn’t quite believe him. “Right. The Freak playing Good Samaritan. What’s the punchline?”

Eddie’s smile fades. It inexplicably hurts to hear Steve call him that. “There’s no punchline, man. Not everything’s a joke.”

Steve stares at him, as if searching for something in Eddie’s face, something to latch onto. Finally, he just nods, leaning back against the couch, eyes half-closed again. “Thanks,” he mumbles, almost too quiet to hear. “I guess.”

Eddie feels something strange twist in his chest. “Don’t mention it,” he says, a little too quickly, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as Steve. He turns away, grabbing an old blanket from a nearby chair and tossing it over Steve. “You sleep it off. I’ll be in my room.”

But even as he walks away, he can't shake the feeling that something’s shifted tonight, some invisible line crossed. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe in the morning, Steve will wake up, make a snarky comment, and it’ll all go back to the way it was.

Or maybe, just maybe, it won’t.

[headcanonenthusiast]

Simon Riley NSFW headcanons

Ladies, gentlemen and everyone inbetween, here he is. Here's the extremely popular man himself, Simon Riley.

I know how much people thirst over Ghost, and even though I personally don't he's a character I absolutely adore. Hoping I can do him justice with this one ❤

(I completely understand that this type of content is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok! But, please scroll and ignore if this type of content isn't your thing as opposed to leaving any sort of negative comments.)

Enjoy!

Nsfw under the cut

-Don't really think he has the highest libido in the world.

-When he is in the mood, though, you're not sleeping that night.

-Have you seen the way this man talks? He's pretty confident in his looks. And he totally sprinkles that confidence into intercourse.

-"Look at tha', not even in you yet and you're already blushin."

-This is so random, but I feel like rainy nights get him in the mood.

-Its probably because you're less likely to go anywhere while the weather's bad. In his mind, as long as the weather isn't the best, he's got you glued to the bed for the night.

-"Where you goin, luv? Weather's nasty today."

-And no matter what excuse you give, his head will tilt slightly and he'll give the smallest smirk imaginable.

-"But it's so cold out. Wouldn't ya rather spend some time with me? The bed's nice n' warm."

-His grip on your hips is tight, so tight he usually leaves marks on accident.

-4 inches soft, 6 inches hard.

-Not the most vocal in bed, but he does grunt a lot.

-Not much of a talker, either, but depending on what you're into, he'll throw out the occasional praise or degrading word.

-"There we go, atta boy/girl. Hold still f'me."

-During sex, his eyes are locked on you, but not specifically on your face. He keeps his focus on your cock/pussy as he touches it.

-Expects your eyes to be on him the whole time, however. Does not want you to look away, even for a second.

-"Eyes on me, darlin'. Don't you look away, now."

-"Good girl/boy. Much better."

-Good with his fingers, and he knows it.

-Will totally finger/jerk you off with your back against his bare chest, his lap as your very own seat while he does so.

-"Christ, your legs are shaking. My fingers feel good, don't they?"

-His strokes are deep, and usually not terribly fast nor too slow. It's a good middle-ground that doesn't tire either of you immediately but is still satisfying.

-A big fan of pulling your hair if it's longer (consensually ofc, consent is important af yall).

-Something that really turns him on is the way his hand is able to completely cover yours. Enjoys moving a hand from your hip to your hand, giving it a few tight squeezes.

-And those squeezes aren't just him doing them because he wants to, he actually uses it as a non-verbal way to say "I love you", because like I said earlier, not very vocal.

-And he always does that at least once during sex. But sometimes he'll forget to do it, so he'll squeeze your hand as you're falling asleep, just to remind you of the fact he loves you.

-Is obsessed with painting your dick/pussy/ass with his cum. Your lips, too, when you give him a blowjob.

-When he's finished, you can see the way his body relaxes. It's like he's suddenly won the lottery and he no longer has back pain after sex.

-Aftercare isn't anything extraordinary, but he figures you need alone time after sex, so, unless requested, the shower is all yours for however long you want it.

-Also, he's not an asshole. Its not like he'd suddenly act distant after sex or anything, it's just that he knows you can take care of yourself. That's why he waits for you in bed, allowing his chest to become a pillow for your head to rest on.

-Now, Simon has never really been able to fall asleep super quickly, but after sex he passes right out.

-And it's not even because the act exhausted him, either. He just has this odd sense of contentment after being with you that lulls him into a more eased mindset, which is very difficult for him to get.

-In other words, he feels much more fulfilled with you by his side. And he'll be sure to thank you the next morning, chin on your shoulder while he gently squeezes your hand.

That was fun to write! Even though I'm not attracted to Ghost like everyone else reading this post is, he's still up there on my fav COD characters list.

Let me know who I should do next!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for letting my dog correct (nip) my niece to prove a point and refusing to punish him?

I own an ex-K9 called Biggles. Biggles is impeccably trained, a total gentleman when you're not being an asshole to him, but also has no time for your bullshit. He'll tolerate a lot more hassle from the younger kids in our family, but if they're allowed to persist in bullying him, he will correct them, just like he would the adults of the family.

Mostly Biggles will just push them over and walk away. Its his way of saying to leave him alone. Sometimes he'll bark loudly, a kind of 'fuck off now' bark. At the very extreme, he'll give them a tiny little warning nip on the arm or hand.

(Biggles has only ever nip corrected kids twice in all the years I've had him. Once when my cousin thought it was 'cute' to dump her toddler right on top of Biggles and let him rip at his fur and try to bite at his face, and once when my nephew was having a tantrum, Biggles tried to snuggle up to him to soothe him and my nephew hit him in the face.)

I firmly believe in learning how your pet communicates and respecting their reasonable boundaries. To me, if you're yanking on a dog's tail and ignoring everyone warning you to stop and you get a nip to the back of the hand for it, that's a valid consequence of your actions and you've just learned to respect the dog enough not to try pulling its tail out of its spine.

(This likely seems unfathomable to a lot of you, but I must clarify that Biggles isn't some hyper-reactive aggressive, dangerous dog like my sister thinks. He will more than happily play around with the little ones, faux wrestle with them, let them paw all over him and fuss at him, ect. He loves children, they're his babies. He does not love being in pain, and if the person causing it will not respect him or me enough to listen to my warnings, I believe they earn it when he warns them too.)

Anyway. Like you might've guessed, yanking on his tail was what my niece was doing at the beer-and-barbeque this weekend. I told her not to. My parents told her not to. Even my sister half-assedly suggested 'maybe Biggles wants to play a different game.' Biggles got up and moved away from her twice and she followed him both times to 'keep playing.'

My entire family knows how Biggles works. I warned my sister Biggles wouldn't tolerate what was happening. My sister told me I shouldn't own such a dangerous, unpredictable dog and he should be put down if he can't handle some 'rough love from a kid.'

(This was not rough love. This was my niece literally ripping at his tail thinking his pain responses were funny.)

I didn't want to cause a scene or subject Biggles to further harassment so I decided just once I'd cave and take Biggles inside so he could get some peace and I could enjoy my burnt ends without my sister squealing in my ear about being cruel to her child by telling her off.

Unfortunately, Biggles' patience ran out before I could make my way over. My niece yanked at his tail again, hard enough that it actually jolted him on the grass, and Biggles whipped around and nipped at her hand. I got to see her hand afterward and there was just a little red mark, no blood or broken skin. He'd just pinched her a little.

My niece screamed bloody murder like he'd taken her hand off and my sister screamed bloody murder about my 'vicious animal.' It devolved into a massive family-wide argument against my sister because my entire family knows its just basic respect and kindness not to cause an animal pain deliberately, and that its my sister's fault for not listening to anyone when we all told her and my niece not to hurt Biggles.

My sister stormed off and has since been blowing up the entire family demanding that Biggles be put down. She's threatened to call the cops, animal control, you name it. None of us are worried about that. There wasn't even a proper mark left on her hand and Biggles will pass any behavioral test with flying colors, but my sister is giving everyone grief and is refusing to attend any family events if Biggles will be there.

My dad is firmly on my side, but my mom is imploring me to just fake apologise to get some peace back. When I recounted the story to my colleague this morning, he said she got what she earned, but also why would I bring Biggles to an event I knew a disrespectful little shit of a kid was at?

I don't feel like an asshole in terms of allowing my dog to establish his boundaries. In my and my family's opinion pets are their own entities and should be treated with belonging and respect when part of a family. Its also just common sense not to cause an animal pain for the fun of it.

However, I'm also very aware that getting nipped by a dog, especially at such a young age, can be catastrophic. My niece could be terrified of dogs for the rest of her life, and while I don't feel guilty she got corrected, I do feel somewhat guilty that I didn't intervene sooner and have possibly set her up for failure in the future. And I do feel like an asshole for letting it get to that point, but it did all happen pretty quickly.

All things considered I do love my niece, she's family, she just gets away with murder because my sister thinks being a little girl is an automatic pass to do whatever you want without consequence.

I've probably painted Biggles out in a real bad light here, but I can assure you that in general Biggles is the perfect family dog. He's loving, playful, he tries to share his kibble with everyone at dinner, he helped us teach my uncle's puppy tricks and how to behave and potty outside ect.

So I guess I'm really asking am I the asshole in this situation, as the one responsible for Biggles?

What are these acronyms?

[fhrlclln]

miguel o’hara x spider!fem! reader

just a bit of angst for experimental reasons guys… i’m sorry in advance <3

the lore im basing off is solely on the background story of miguel in the movie and a lil bit from the 928 miguel, so please mind me for switching it up, my loves!!

miguel is harsh but harsher towards you when you’re practically one of the first and loyal spider members to the league. why?

angst under the cut

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miguel was harsh. rude, sassy, overly harsh but everyone got to experience that kind of attitude of his. not until that attitude went overboard with you. you didn’t know why or how this started but you knew miguel’s attitude of being snappy and that was kind of his way of showing a little affection. but to you, to you none of that was that. he was more cold, more snappy, more overly dismissive of you everyday since jess had recruited you and you didn’t know why.

your dimension was a variant of miguel’s as well, both of you are from nueva york. scientists at alchemax and in your dimension, he was just an ordinary colleague of yours. except that, this time you weren’t a mutant-spider hybrid like miguel is, but more that you were actually bitten by a radioactive spider and the rest was history from then when an anomaly from another dimension had gone to yours, thus meeting the leader himself and jess. which was a total surprise that you learned another miguel o’hara was spiderman as well.

“that’s all?” miguel asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“yeah.” you nodded awkwardly, tensed a bit, you had just reported to him about your mission you were assigned on. you stare at his back, seeing him flick away from his screen as you sighed, this bubble in your throat threatening to burst. the miguel you knew wasn’t like this a bit, sure he was still an asshole but this miguel was worser. the only time he was nice is when he softly told you that you can join the spider-society after jess had introduced you to him.

“leave me.” miguel says with no thank you of whatsoever, just pure coldness. you frown, wishing he would just try and be more a little civilized towards you. your mouth opens slightly, brows furrowed as you wanted to say something but you held back, still staring at his back, his movements were calculated as he didn’t notice you further. your feet sank to the ground as you nodded, the bitterness in your heart making your lips tremble underneath your mask as you guided yourself out of his lab.

jess watches from the shadows with great amount of displeasure as she glances up to miguel. you walked away, shoulders sunken and she could tell you were trying to hold yourself back at his attitude towards you.

“you can’t ignore her forever, miguel.” jess speaks up. miguel stills, glancing to his side as he rolls his eyes.

“it’s none of your business.” he deadpans, intent to not hear what jess has to say. she sighs, leaving the lab as well.

“at some point, she has to know.” jess quietly tells him before she leaves. he merely stays quiet, the sound of the footage he has been playing echoing his lonely lab. his fingers tap on their own on instinct when he’s alone as one video pops up to give him that feeling of that once happy time he had.

“look, papa!” his heart sinks hearing his little daughter’s voice. he looks happy back then, smiling, with cream on his face as his kid smiles with him when he puts her down. a pleasant memory to fill the void in his heart as he yearns for it again. the sound of little laughter, the feel of warmth around his heart, that same feeling of sweet happiness back then. love was there and regret was yet to overcome him.

“what are you doing? get in the video. mija, tell mama to join us.” his other self laughs as he looks behind the camera, miguel’s heart surges as the camera shakes for a moment. he watches, breath stilling, always readying for the next part as he tried to not dwell on the grieving feeling when he watches it.

“mama! come on!” he smiles for a bit, just barely.

“alright! wait, lemme just—“ your voice cuts in. his heart drops when you turn the camera over to you three now. all smiling as you kiss miguel on the cheek, teasing him for the cream on his face. miguel’s eyes train on yours, your smile was radiant as ever, same smile you had when he watches you sometimes when you talk alongside your fellow spider friends here.

“say cheese!” you cooed in the video, kissing your daughter on the head as the other miguel smiles widely, leaning against you. his heart sinks as his lips tremble, his fists clench when he remembers the first time he saw you again after both you and gabriella had died in his arms. he landed in your dimension when he was tracking that same anomaly, you were fighting alongside him, defeating the anomaly that had landed in your dimension. his first instinct was to sweep you up in his arms but he held himself back, knowing what further damage might do if he even gets close to you remembering how selfish he was taking place of the dimension the former miguel had. taking his place as your husband and the father to his child.

but was it so wrong knowing that in another world that it was possible for him to be happy?

he doesn’t know. and he makes sure to stay it that way no matter how he knows he puts much distance between the two of you since you joined the spider-society in the early days. the video ends as miguel shooks his head to clear his thoughts as he looks back to where you exited, a sinking feeling in his chest, urges he denies inside his head as he remembers what would happen if something between the two of you would transpire. he loves you, but he hopes that you wouldn’t know it. he hopes that you’d accept that his way of being a major asshole was in-order to protect you.

“she can’t know.” he mumbles underneath his breath, hands covering his tired face, his broken heart already torn to pieces as grief fills it in. convincing himself this is the only way for you to live.

you can’t know.

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IM SORRY. my next fics are spicy so stay tune <3

[atimeofyourlife]

A family Thanksgiving

This was supposed to be up yesterday, but it took on a mind of its own and instead of the few hundred words it was supposed to be, its nearly 3k. Happy belated Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates! rated: t | wc: 2847 | cw: period typical homophobia, Steve's asshole parents

The offers from everyone to have him over for Thanksgiving had been great, any other year he would have loved such a choice, but for the first time in a long time, he was spending the day with family.

"But you hate your family." Dustin pointed out when Steve had told everyone about his holiday plans.

"No, I hate my parents. It's my grandma that asked me to go, and I want to see her and my cousins that I haven't seen in like five years. I'm driving myself to Chicago, so I won't be stuck in a car with my parents for hours on end." Steve explained.

"But you're working a late the day before, and I'm not going to cover you so you can drive up early" Robin replied.

"I'm planning on leaving by six on Thanksgiving morning. It's less than four hours to drive, so I'll be there before ten, well nine because of the timezone change. I took the late shift the day before so I had an excuse to drive myself, and my parents wouldn't have any reason to come by Hawkins before. And I drive home either the Friday or the Saturday, ready for our Sunday shift."

Come Thanksgiving day, Steve was somewhat regretting his decision. It had been nearly midnight before he'd gotten home, after a number of people came in just before closing insistent on needing a selection of movies ready for the next day. Then hadn't been happy when the movies they wanted weren't in stock, so they left the place a total mess, causing Steve to stay late to tidy up ready for the opener the next day. Then having to get up around five, so he could get ready and be on track to leave as planned. In an attempt to wake up, he was mostly surviving on a large cup of incredibly strong coffee. He was just counting down the minutes until he could get there.

When he walked in the door, he was immediately wrapped up in a hug from his grandma. "Stevie, it's so good to see you."

"It's great to see you too, Grandma." He returned the hug, melting into it a little. Exactly what he needed after the year it had been.

"Let me take a look at you." She stepped back slightly, giving him a once over. Her hand came up to trace the scar still on his neck from where he had been strangled by the bats and vines. "What happened here?"

"I. It's nothing. It looks a lot worse than it is." Steve replied, trying to get out of the awkwardness of the conversation.

"Oh, if you're sure. If you want to help with dinner, you can join us in the kitchen. But if you just want to rest, anyone who's watching football is in the living room, and the Macy's parade is on in the den."

"It's been a long drive, and I had a late finish last night, so I think I'm going to take a bit of a break. I might come out and help a bit later." He offered.

"Oh, honey. If you don't feel up to it, you don't need to help at all. Take it easy, and we'll call you once everything is ready." She kissed Steve on the cheek, before going back to the kitchen.

Steve made his way through the house, glancing into the living room as he passed. He could see his dad in one of the recliners, and decided against joining them. Wanting to delay the inevitable "you're a disappointment" lecture. He knew his mom would likely be in the kitchen, not actually helping, just drinking wine and gossiping. He moved on to the den, where most of his cousins were. He hovered in the doorway for a second, unsure what to say. So much had changed since the last time he had seen any of them.

"Wait, Stevie?" One of them, Lizzie, said as she looked up to see him.

"Uh, hey?" Steve replied, a little unsure, before he was being swamped in a group hug.

"Jesus Christ, when did this happen? Last time I saw you, you were like a little kid. Now you're a whole grown adult." Another, Mark, said.

After a long catch up, bringing Steve up to date on everyone else's lives, and him giving an abridged highlights of his last few years, they then got into more serious topics.

"Was everything okay after the earthquakes? I tried calling a few times, but I don't know if I had the wrong number because it never went through." Alice, the oldest of his cousins, asked.

"The phones were down across the whole town for a while after, then it was patchy for weeks after that. It was hard to get five or ten minutes without it dropping out. It took me like two weeks before I was able to get hold of mom and dad to let them know that the house was still standing, and that I was still alive." Steve explained.

"Wait, they weren't in Hawkins for the earthquakes?" Harry cut in.

"No, they've not been in Hawkins since February? Like over a month before it happened."

"Oh. They were telling us last night about how awful and hard it had been during the earthquakes, and how they were scared for their lives." Alice replied.

"That's such bullshit. They weren't in the country when it happened, they were in London. They didn't even know that it was Hawkins that was affected until I called them, because all they'd seen on the news was a freak earthquake hitting the Midwest. It hadn't even specified the state. And then they didn't care how I was, if I was hurt or anything, all they were interested in was if there was damage to the house, and how the earthquake could affect the resale value."

"Okay, I call dibs about bringing that up over dinner. I just want to see what shade of purple Uncle Dick can turn." Becca, the closest cousin to Steve in age, piped up. "But were you hurt?"

"Uh, minor injuries. Nothing serious." Steve lied, not wanting to worry anyone. "I was able to start volunteering within a couple of days. You know, helping out at the relief center, helping search for missing people. And when everything calmed down I was helping rebuild and stuff. Just trying to do my bit. But I'm fine now."

"That's good. But thinking of Uncle Dick turning purple, who gets to bring up Fuck Reagan?" Mark asked.

"Stevie's been through the most, I think he should get the chance." Alice replied.

"Uh, I think that would go down about as well as if I told him that my best friend is a dyke and I've spent most of my free time in the last six months sucking off the local drug dealer, who was accused of being a cult leader and murdering three people." Steve said quickly, unsure if he wanted anyone else to pick up what he'd said.

"Was that for drugs, or for fun, or what? Like a hook up?" Harry asked.

"He's my boyfriend. I mean, it helps that I get free weed out of him, but I'd do it anyway." Steve admitted.

"That is something you missed out of your round up. But I love that all of us are some variation of queer."

Dinner was...interesting, to say the least. After saying Grace, they went round the table to say what they were thankful for that year. Steve had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing as his parents waxed on and on about how they were thankful for their lives and being able to escape the earthquake unscathed. He couldn't keep from laughing when Becca spoke up against them.

"Really? Because Alice asked Steve how he found it after the earthquakes, and he said that he couldn't reach you for two weeks after it happened because the phones were down and you were in London. And you didn't even know that it had hit Hawkins until he called you."

"Steven, why are you telling lies about us?" His mother demanded.

"I wasn't? You weren't in Hawkins when the earthquake hit. You've not been there since February. When I was finally able to call you, you only cared about how the house was, not if I was hurt. And you were pissed that I hadn't called you sooner, despite the fact the phone lines were down for the whole town. I could have died or been injured in hospital, and you wouldn't have known."

"How dare-" His father started, only to be cut off by Steve's grandmother.

"Settle down. There's no need for arguing. I am inclined to believe Steve, because I do remember you telling me that you were going to be spending a few months in Europe at the start of this year."

Both of Steve's parents were visibly unhappy, but they didn't push it any further, allowing the rest of the family to talk about what they were thankful for.

Many small conversations broke out over the table, Steve loving the feeling of being surrounded by family for the first time in a long time. He got pulled into talking to different people, but he did his best to avoid his parents' eye. Not wanting to get trapped by them telling him all the ways he had bothered them since he'd last seen them. But he knew they were up to something, when his father got up before dessert was served.

"Before we have anything else, we do have a big announcement about the future of our family." He said, using the voice he always used when talking to the most important clients.

"You've sucked enough political dick to get what ever tax exemption you were after?" Lizzie asked, before anyone could take it too seriously.

Steve's dad just spluttered in anger as a call of "Elizabeth." Came from at least four different people around the table.

"Ignoring that horrible interruption. What I was going to tell everyone is about Steven's imminent engagement. He is going to be proposing to Melissa Downey, the daughter of my business partner, at Christmas, they've been seeing each other for nearly eighteen months now, and it is going to mean big things for our family."

Steve couldn't respond, processing what had just been said, as everyone started speaking, some offering congratulations, others in confusion.

"That's news to me." Steve said loudly, to get over everyone's voices, once he could form the words. "I'm not planning on proposing to anyone."

"Well, Arthur and I have been discussing it, and it is the only thing that makes sense now, the two of you have been together for long enough, the logical next step is engagement."

"I'm not dating Melissa. We went on one date over a year ago, just after I graduated. It was awful, all she was interested in was if I made enough money to bankroll her spending addiction. I made up a fake emergency to get out of it, and I would rather stick forks in my eyes than suffer through that again." Steve got to his feet, bracing his hands on the table. Knowing he'd been right not to be optimistic that the holiday could pass without incident.

"You will if you know what's good for you. If you don't, it could destroy our business. You wouldn't want to be the reason we go broke, would you? You could end up homeless. Where would you live?"

"First, I have plenty of friends who would be happy to take me in if I had nowhere else to go. It's something we talked about after the earthquake, because some people I know did have damage caused to their homes and I let them stay with me until they could move back in. Second, I don't really care about whether or not you go broke. You don't provide any money to me. You haven't since I started working at Scoops. I pay for all my food, gas, clothes. If you go broke, my financial position won't change at all. And third, I can't propose to her. I'm in a relationship, and we're both very happy."

"Is it that Buckley girl? Or did you somehow manage to convince that Wheeler girl that you're actually worth something? Because I can tell you now, you are going to break up with whatever little slut-"

"His name is Eddie." Steve shouted before he could think it through, and a silence fell across the room. "That's right. Your son is one of those awful queers that you keep campaigning against, to keep them illegal and get them locked up. And you know what? He's easily the best sex I've ever had. Especially when we get high first."

"Why you-" His father roared, his face turning a dark red in anger. "How dare you do this to us? After everything we have done for you. You'd better hope that those friends of yours would be willing to take you in, because you are not living under my roof any longer. You will have until the end of the weekend to collect your belongings, anything left will be burned."

"Except, it isn't your roof, is it Richard? If I remember correctly, I was the one who paid the mortgage. My name is the one on the deed to the property in Hawkins. I just allowed you to live there, rent-free might I add, because it made sense for you to live somewhere close to Indianapolis when your business was taking off. I had been planning to sell up. So I think maybe you should be the one to collect your belongings from that house, because I'm not sure if I want you living under my roof any longer. It sounds life you're almost never there, anyway." Steve's grandma replied.

"But, mother-" His father started.

"But nothing, Richard. I don't know where you learnt your hateful attitude, because I know I did not raise you to be the sort of man that would kick your own son out over something as minor as who he loves. I really thought you were a better man than that."

"It's disgusting." Steve's mother added. "So unnatural, and that disease."

"What is disgusting is your bigotry. I think I want you both out from under my roof, now. So, if you would both kindly leave. And I expect you to move your belongings from the house in Hawkins, as that is now Steve's house, not yours. And you better not touch anything that isn't yours, or cause any damage, because I will take legal advice." Steve's grandmother stood up, anger radiating from her tiny five foot frame. "And, unless you change and apologize for your outdated beliefs, you can forget any inheritance. I will not have any of my money going to support hatred."

"Mother,"

"Leave, Richard. Now. I'm not afraid to get the police involved here."

Steve's parents looked at him with their faces filled with utter disgust, before they turned and left. His grandmother escorting them off the property.

"Are you okay, Stevie?" His grandmother asked after the end of the meal.

"I. I think so. I think I need to make a couple of phone calls." He replied.

"Use any of the phones, dear. Maybe if you know someone who can keep an eye on the house."

"Yeah. I babysit for the chief of police sometimes, so I might call him. He'll make sure nothing happens."

"Good. And, if you're talking to that boy of yours, tell him that he's got to come up here for Christmas. I want to meet him, and make sure he's good enough for you."

"Grandma." Steve protested.

"I'm just saying." She replied before walking away.

Steve shut himself in one of the bedrooms, for a little privacy from the still crowded house while he made the calls. The call to Hopper was quick, just outlining what was going on, and Hopper agreed to keep a check on the house until Steve was back in Hawkins. Then it was the call to Eddie.

"Baby, I wasn't expecting you to call. How's your Thanksgiving?"

"Interesting. My parents decided to announce that I was going to propose to dad's business partner's daughter. They wouldn't accept that I wasn't interested in her so I accidentally came out."

"Shit, I hope that didn't go too bad?"

"Uh, it could have gone worse? Somehow me coming out got my parents removed from the will and kicked out of the house. Because my grandma wasn't happy with them being assholes about it."

"Oh, badass grandma. I kinda want to meet her now."

"I was hoping you would say something like that. Because she has told me that you have to come here for Christmas. She wants to make sure that you're good enough." Steve couldn't help smiling as he talked, somehow the day had gone so much better than he'd ever hoped.

[froznwater]

post WT Alenaoh drabble

Alejandro wins World Tour and now not only does his family treat him poorly, but so does the rest of the world. Even Heather gets her bit of redemption after being "used by the evil Alejandro." But none of the shows fans like him. They can admit he was smart, yes, but ultimately someone able to play with that many peoples hearts is not a good person. Twitter trends with phrases like 'rigged', 'not my tdw', and 'slippery eel' for weeks after his victory. His phone number gets leaked, bombarded with hateful messages, and his car gets keyed during the ten minutes he takes to run into his local mall to pick up a gift for his mother on her birthday. Tiktok makes 'plot twist' edits of him. Where it begins with him, but ultimately switches to another of his precious peers after they "shut him down" and the entire concept is just one big fuck Alejandro party in the comments. Hundreds- thousands of greasy idiots belittling him for their enjoyment. He doesn't even post on Instagram anymore. Too pussy to entirely turn off the comments and let the world think they've won, he just buries the app deep in a folder and leaves it untouched. Eel. Fake. Bop. I'm doing it, are you? How many letters in Alejandro? Is that oil I see? Noah = 8.

Some people even show up at his house. His father hires bodyguards and demands the police to patrol the area, but blames Alejandro for all of it. This is all your fault. You were too careless. You should have done this. You shouldn't have done this. Look, this person figured you out. Why did you say this? That was dumb. Jose would have done better. He WON, didn't he? ...Didn't he? But college starts in two months, so he rides it out as much as he can. College sucks. Everyone stares, but no one approaches unless it's some dickhead-sexist loser clapping him on the back with enough gusto that really re-whacks the reality into him every time. He's met with "Aren't you that asshole that won Total Drama World Tour a couple months ago?" any time he tries to make some friends. None of the cast reach out. It stings, but Alejandro gets it. He's not wanted. Within three weeks, he's moves to the middle of fucking no where with his cat and enrolls in as many online classes that his new mediocre college will allow. - Noah, praised for his intelligence and funny one-liners over his course of 15 minutes of screen-time, is the fan-favourite. Officially. Voted through the after-season special reunion. Even though he never made it far. In the beginning it's vaguely funny, karmatic. Him. Noah. The unlike-able "schemer." Is the one that fans edit on tiktok and quote on Twitter. After a (short)while it's annoying. He can't get his coffee before class without posing(or declining to do so) for at least two instagram photos. He can't scroll Twitter without seeing someone referencing him in the replies. "Giving slippery eel." "It's all down here from here, honey."

Even his nickname for Owen is used to fatshame people everywhere. "Lunchbox." Is commented under anyone over 100 pounds. It puts a foul taste in Noah's mouth that makes him lock his phone and touch fucking grass every time. Tiktok clips of him go viral. So not only does a lot of America know him, most of it does, as well as other parts of the big wide world. It sucks. The studio won't let it die either. They sell merch of his face. Of his sweater vest with the inbuilt button-up. Of his face on a gay flag(which the fans use as confirmation in his sexuality after demanding so from him for months and getting no answer.(He isn't even gay.)) Of his last insult to Alejandro. And, really, who actually won that fight? Noah, bisexual gay icon, who signed away all his rights to merch pay-cut? Or the man and his million dollars that hasn't been seen or heard from in three months? With love and admiration comes hate. It's piling up more and more. And the more people blindly defend him the more people that come out with their "I'm going to be honest. I didn't care for Noah from Total Drama." And Noah can deal with hate. Honestly, he can deal with it better than he can with love and people genuinely liking him. But he's seen the pattern. He knows where this is going. He goes on a few interviews he never accepted before, gets a new phone number, deletes all his social media, applies to a new college with a student count of 2,000, and retires his red sweaters.

Fuck the internet.

- You'll never guess who he sees.

[shesoutofhere]

Meet Me in the Corner pt.2

Ignore all typos or I will cry.

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter is starting to grow on you but the Parker persona is not.

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4

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

“So he totally blue-balled you.” your roommate says from her desk where she's painting her nails. 

“Mar that totally isn’t how you use that phrase.”

Mar has made you tell her what happened with Peter about 10 times now. Every time you re-tell it, she's come to the conclusion that Peter Parker is an asshole. 

“Okay well you get what I mean. Maybe you should request a new partner.”

Maybe not, Peter may have been an ass but you’d be lying if you said his work wasn’t good.

“Look Mar, maybe I just caught him on a bad day, I don’t know.” 

Marlene whips her head around, nail polish still in hand. “Oh don’t you start with that benefit of the doubt bullshit.”

You sigh, “Requesting a new partner is out of the question okay, I don’t want to seem like a difficult priss, especially since professor Cal already doesn’t like me.”

Mar gives you an obviously fake smile, “that is not true.” 

You give her a look and she grimaces, she’s started something.

“Professor Cal despises me and I don’t know why but  he does.” 

You feel your anger bubble up. You know you’re about to go on a rant and Mar, being a saint, listens. 

“He is constantly nitpicking everything I do and never fails to ridicule my projects in front of everyone. Nothing I do impresses him and I just-” you pause, “I think Peter might help.”

Mar shrugs her shoulders, “I’m still iffy since the blue-balling and all but whatever you think love.”

You giggle as Mar turns back towards her desk, “Hey Mar?”

“Yeah” she answers.

“Next time we're at the bookstore, remind me to buy you an urban dictionary.”

Mar just gives you a thumbs up.

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

You’re five minutes into your walk and realized a little too late that you need a scarf. You could turn back around and go get one but then you’d have to hear Mar say she told you so and that just won't do.

You decide to tough it out.

After a brisk walk, you make it to the library. Once you’re inside you decide that you’re going to treat yourself to a nice warm tea. You enter the library cafe and order your tea. Once it’s in hand you go to look for a spot to hunker down in.

You make your way through the floors and find yourself heading to the spot you found in the corner. When you turn the bookshelf you are surprised to see the spot empty. 

You immediately sit down and start taking your things out. 

You’re taking your laptop out of the case when you hear someone's shoes scuff to a quick stop. You look to see a surprised Peter Parker. Not very pleased with how he left you hanging yesterday, you just eye him up and down until your eyes reach his again. Peter is just standing there and you can’t help but ask, “ Can I help you?”

Peter walks a bit closer towards the table before he answers. “No, I was just checking to see if the spot was empty but it’s not so.” He says dragging the O.

Peter stands there expectantly, like he’s waiting for you to ask him to sit. You don’t, so he cracks first. “Do you mind if I sit with you, all the other floors are too loud and I really need some peace and quiet.” 

Surprised that  he actually asked you, in a nice manner at that, you just nod yes.

He moves to sit in the chair across from you. The tables are big enough to where both of you can spread out your work comfortably but you still can’t help but feel on edge. You didn’t come to the library expecting to see Peter, let alone have him sitting with you. 

You try your best to chill out, reminding yourself that you were here first and if anyone should feel mildly unwelcomed, it should be him. With that you decide to start typing up an article for a paper. 

You’re both quietly working when Peter speaks up. “What’cha working on?”

Trying not to lose your spot, you continue typing away and give a simple response. “An article”

“For?” 

You sigh, whatever groove you had originally found, is all gone now.

“A paper.”

“Which one?”

“An art paper.”

“Oh cool, what do you write?”

You look up from your computer to look at him. “What happened to peace and quiet?”

Peter seems a bit taken aback. You feel bad so you quickly follow up, “I write about up and coming artists. Whether that be new exhibits they have or just sit down interviews about their lives.” 

Peter stays quiet so you continue, “I also do in-depth reviews over specific expo’s and the fundraiser’s some of them work for.”

Peter crosses his arms and nods, “Cool cool.”

You give him a quiet ‘yup’ and go back to typing. You get about a sentence in before Peter interrupts you again. 

“Is that how you knew about the donors gala?”

You nod, “Sort of, but I really learned more about it through Austin.” 

“Art museum friend?”

You give him another nod, “art museum friend.” 

Peter just nods some more and leans back into his chair.

“Since we're on the topic, what exactly is the gala for anyways?”

Abandoning all hope for your article, you push your laptop away to fully engage with Peter.

“A bunch of the school's donors get together for a night and do a dinner and an auction. A lot of the art auctioned off is work that students have put together. Those students get invited and get to mingle with some pretty important people. Some even come out with internships or commissions.”

Peter can’t hide his surprise, “that's actually….really cool.”

You can’t help but agree, “yeah, even cooler that we get to go.” 

Peter sits up, “speaking of, how about we knock out that outline?”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t thrown off. Last time you saw Peter he was a bit of an asshole. Now, he’s tolerable and dare you say, easy to talk to. Whatever it is, you aren’t complaining.

“Yeah, let me pull up the sheet.”

You and Peter brainstorm for a while. Deciding on different angles and how to approach the assignment. After a while you guys decide on a solid plan and you begin to type it up on the outline. 

“So, you’re pretty lucky to have Cal as a professor, considering you write articles and all.”

You wince but continue to type, Peter notices. “What’s the face for?”

You let out a puff of air “I have this running theory that Cal is not very fond of me.” 

Peter looks intrigued. “Whaaat, Cal doesn’t like you? That can’t be true. What makes you say that?”

You shrug your shoulders, “he’s pretty, um, critical of my work. He also loves to pick on me and my ideas.” you double down, “like I said, theory.” 

Peter gives you a smile. “Uh oh, should I be worried about our project?” you know he’s joking, or you hope he’s joking, but you can’t help but genuinely worry.

Before you can really get into your head, Peter taps the table to get your attention. “Hey, I'm sure it’s gonna be fine. Plus I'm on the team now and I don’t mean to brag but my work is brilliant.”

Successfully making you feel better, you roll your eyes jokingly. “Yeah yeah I get it, Peter the almighty photographer.” 

Peter smirks, “so you’ve heard of my work?” 

You scoff, “oh come off it Peter.” 

All he does is laugh and starts to gather his things.

You can’t help but feel a bit sad?

“Well I’ve got to head out but let me know if you need any help on the outline.”

You nod, “Yeah, I think I should be good. I’ll finish it up and send it to you to look over.” 

Peter stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder, “if you want to, but I have full faith in you. You’re the writer after all.” 

You can’t help but smile at the compliment. “Look at us, the dream team.” 

Peter laughs and starts to walk away. “Oh yeah, Cal’s got nothing on us.” 

You let out a laugh at his comment. Peter turns to give a wave goodbye and turns the corner out of your eyesight. 

After a bit, you finish the outline, look it over a couple of times and once you’ve decided it’s perfect, you go ahead and submit it.

You send the file to Peter so he can go ahead and submit it for his class. Feeling pleased with the work you’ve done today, you decide to head out.

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

It’s Wednesday and you’ve just finished up with Cal’s class. You linger a little bit behind, finishing up the notes left on the board. Once you are done you begin to gather up your things and head for the door. Before you can make it out Cal calls out your name to stay behind for a sec. 

You halt in your steps and turn around to walk back to his podium. A fellow classmate gives you a sympathetic smile as she walks by you. You can’t help but dread what's to come.

Call talks to every other student before he gets to you. You can’t help but feel like he’s left you for last on purpose. You get up to his podium. He’s flipping through his stack of papers, when he pulls out a sheet of paper. You read the top and see that it’s your outline paper. 

Cal speaks first. “So, you and mister Parker are doing the donors gala?”

You nod, “yes sir.”

He just hums and looks down at the outline. He rubs his chin while he reads over the paper. 

“How will that work out?”

Here he goes. “Well Peter will take photos and I’ll write up the article.” 

Cal sighs, “yes I understand that but how are you guys attending? Will you be a guest? Workers? Volunteers?”

You pull your hands behind your back and try your best not to seem nervous. “We’ll be guests, sir. I know someone working the event and-” 

 Cal cuts you off, “So you’ll be loitering?” 

You dig your nails into your palms, trying to remain calm. “No sir, I know someone working who has offered guest passes and I’ve received invitations from an exhibit I write for.” 

“Ah” is all Cal says.

There's a bit of silence when Cal finally looks up from your paper. “ This is a very important event for the school and students involved.” Cal pauses, “you understand that you’ll be mingling with very important people?”

You nod, “of course professor.”

Cal grabs the paper and goes to hand it to you. Before you can grab it he pulls it back. “It’s an honor to be able to attend this gala. You will represent not only me but our school as well. I believe you’re one of the only students to have offered this idea up for the project. I’ll approve it but please note that I am expecting a lot considering how important of an event this is.”

You give another nod, beyond ready for this to be over. “Of course.”

Cal gives a curt nod, “very well then.” he hands over your paper, “I'm looking forwards to seeing you both there.”

You say goodbye and head out the door, paper gripped in your hand. 

When you make it far enough you look down at your outline. You sigh as you see all the markings on it. There's minimal notes on Peter’s ideas for the photos but your angle portions are all scribbled on. 

At the very top it reads ‘revise and turn in again by Friday.’

You think if you look at paper any longer you’ll cry. You shove it in your backpack and begin your walk to your next class. 

With your morning ruined, you can only hope that the rest of the day will be better.

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

Evil Cal has placed a curse on your day. You should’ve known his class would be an indication for how the rest of your day would go. 

You’d completely forgotten to finish your pre-lab for your lab, which led you to have to stay behind an extra thirty minutes to finish it. Those extra thirty minutes made you extremely late for your next class. You had run across campus in hopes of catching some part of the lesson. When you finally make it, dripping in sweat and out of breath, you walk up to the door and read the sign that your class has been canceled for the day. Just to top it all off, it started raining and you’ve got no umbrella with you so you had to go to the student store and spend an absurd amount of money on the smallest umbrella you’ve ever seen. 

You’re now walking towards your dorm, in no real rush. You’ve accepted that you’re going to be soaked by the rain, thanks to your ridiculously small umbrella. Your shoes make a squish sound with every step you take and you’ve got your backpack on your front side, hoping to protect what's inside. 

All is well until a gust of wind has the umbrella flying out of hand, poking you in the head on the way out. Your eyes drift to where it landed. You are extremely surprised when you catch sight of Peter holding the umbrella. You wave at him and get a small smile back. You think nothing of it as you walk over to him. When you get close you realize that he isn’t alone.

Peter is standing with a group of people under an awning of one of the classroom buildings. One guy looks familiar and you realize it’s the guy that interrupted you and Peter the first day you guys met. 

He gives you a wave and hello.

“Hey, we met the other day right?” 

You nod, “yeah” 

He extends his hand, “I didn’t properly introduce myself, I’m Nolan.”

You shake his hand and introduce yourself as well.

Peter is still holding your umbrella but hasn’t said a word to you yet.

You’re about to ask Peter for your umbrella when one of the girls from the group speak’s up. 

“How do we know you exactly?”  Okay wow, she’s a bit blunt. 

Nolan replies for you, “this is Parker's partner for that class he was talking about.”

She nods “Oh yeahh,  I remember. The project he’s worried about.”

Peter gives her a look and cuts in, “Charlotte.”  She just shrugs her shoulders. “What, were you not saying that you were worried.” 

Everyone but Nolan and Peter snicker. It’s like they know something that you don’t and you feel a pit form in your stomach. 

You can’t hold your tongue and look Peter right in the eyes. “What are you so worried about Peter?” 

He stutters, “well after what you told me I-” Charlotte clearly is having too much fun and decides to answer for him. “Parker here is worried about you guys failing the project, considering your track record and all.” 

Your stunned silent. You can’t remember the last time someone has been so blatantly rude to you. It reminds you too much of highschool and it’s upsetting you. What upsets you the most is the lack of Peters defense.

Your new found friend Nolan even says something, “Oh Charlotte don’t be like that.”

Charlotte just can’t seem to let it go, “I'm sorry, did he not say she hasn’t been able to ace a project.”  she looks at you with mock sympathy. “Don’t worry, I’m sure this project will exceed expectations.”

You feel your eyes begin to sting. You berate yourself in your head for tearing up. You blame the draining day you’ve had for the lack of self restraint.

You clear your throat. “Well Charlotte.” you turn to Peter who’s still not said a word. “Thanks for enlightening me on Parker's worries.” you snatch your umbrella out of his hand and walk away, offering no goodbyes. You faintly hear Nolan scold Charlotte but the giggle that follows tells that she doesn’t take it seriously. 

You speed walk as fast as you can, when you hear Peter call out your name. You don’t stop. You walk faster hoping that he’ll get the memo. You halt to stop when Peter steps in front of you. 

“Hey don’t listen to Charlotte. She’s kind of a-” you cut him off, “a bitch?” 

Peter winces, “I mean for lack of better words, yeah.”

Peter can tell you’re still upset and tries to lighten the mood. “Hey so I got this lens for the assignment, it's supposed to be really nice for night shots.” 

You are in awe. Is he really trying to completely disregard what just happened?

You deadpan, “real neat Parker, I gotta go.” you try to walk past him, but he manages to step right in the direction you're heading. “Hey, look, I’m really sorry but-”

You scoff, “but what?” you’re pissed off now. “I tell you something in confidence and you go and blab about it to all your friends.” you’re not done yet. “Speaking of your friends, that Charlotte one has a real shit-attitude. I am no one to judge who you can be friends with, especially since we aren't.” Peter frowns at that. “But it’s really telling about your character if that’s who you choose to hang with.” 

The rain begins to pick up again and you grip your umbrella harder, Peter still stands in front of you, now getting rained on. You believe you’ve had enough and step aside to go around Peter. Somehow he’s managed to line himself in front of you once again.

“Hey come on, it doesn’t have to be like that.” your eyes widen, genuinely shocked by his audacity. “You’ve got to be joking right? Peter you just let Regina George 2.0 make fun of me based off of whatever information you blabbed about.” 

Peter opens and closes his mouth, like he’s at a loss of what to say. You shake your head. “Whatever, you don’t owe me anything.” This time you’re set on getting away. Peter sticks his hand out. “Wait can I just-” you put your hand on his shoulder and shove him to the side. Peter is thrown off by this and it gives you a chance to get ahead of him. You think he’s gotten the message because he doesn’t call after you again. 

You make it to the crosswalk and wait for the light. You can’t help but look back at the group. Peters made it back and is laughing away with the rest of them. You can only assume he’s blowing off what just happened. 

You pull out your phone and immediately text Mar.

Peter Parker IS an asshole.

 Cal can kiss my ass.

ALSO, we need a bigger a umbrella. 

You see the dots and receive her response.

Oh honey, I'm ready and waiting. 

Doors unlocked 

Xoxo

You see the light turn green and give one final once over at the group. Seeing the group reignites your anger and you stomp your way across the street. 

Mar is about to have the biggest I told you so moment ever.

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

Peter is so #fake and i kinda love it.

Also, sorry to all the Charlottes out there, you're my villain of choice :)

[queers-gambit]

Alpine

prompt: in an effort to help your boyfriend with his trauma, you rescue a furry feline together - a white cat named, Alpine - who rescues you both in return.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Widow!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 6.9k+

note: been seeing a lot of Alpine recently and got inspired.

second note: no, it's not comic / canon compliant so just have fun. author did some research but there's not a LOT written / known about Alpine, so, again, just have fun!

warnings: post Endgame, pre tfaws; cursing, Lord's name in vain, small angst, mostly hurt and comfort, Nick Fury calling reader a bitch playfully, Bucky's trauma responses, small spoilers, Dr. Raynor / therapy.

other works with Widow!reader and Bucky NOT necessary to read

read here: Damage Done

"Are you angry with me?"

"No."

"Disappointed? Annoyed? Frustrated?"

"No, doll."

"Then why won't you talk to me!?"

"Nothing to say."

You wiped a hand down your face, lifting it only to pinch the bridge of your nose. Your head shook to shake away your thoughts, sniffling emotion, sighing when you dropped your hand to slap against your thigh. "I'm really trying here, Bucky, I swear to you, I am. But I can't help if you don't talk to me," you softened your voice, beginning to understand this was a losing battle.

"I never said I needed help."

"You never have to ask me for help, Bucky, I just give it because I want to! Because I love you! That's part of being in a relationship!"

"Maybe I don't want it!" Your boyfriend snapped, rounding on you with unfiltered emotion in his eyes. The horrors swam in his baby blues, vivid memories he was unable to escape haunting him, terrorizing him; creating a shell of a man who could no longer hide his avid pain. "Did you ever think about that? Ever consider that I don't want your help because I don't need it?"

"Everyone needs help sometimes, Buck."

"No, not everyone - I'm not one of your pet projects, you don't get to treat me like a broken thing that needs fixed! I certainly don't need your pity - not yours."

"I don't pity you! Fuck's sake, Bucky, I love you and want to see you heal. I know you better than anyone - "

"You don't," he sneered, cutting you off. "You don't know me, not really, not as well as Steve - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Steve isn't here! He's not coming back!" You snapped, instantly regretting it when Bucky's eyes coated with glassy emotion he fought vehemently to keep down. "I-I'm sorry, that was - that was really mean of me and totally out of line," you apologized, both sighing deeply. "All right, look, let's just talk this out, please."

"There's nothing to say."

Your hip cocked, arms crossing, "She called me, you know."

"Who?"

"Dr. Raynor."

"Fuck's sake," he growled. "Why would she do that?"

"Maybe because today's session was, apparently, supposed to be a couples session. She thought I was refusing, called to say I was impeding on your progress and if I want to help you, I'd have to show up to your appointments. Which is really funny because you never told me about today, so I had no idea what the hell she was talking about - but that didn't stop her from tearing me a new asshole!"

He frowned, avoiding your eyes. "I didn't need a couples session. Not today, I just - I wanted today to focus on other shit."

"And I can respect that, but you're not doing yourself any favors by hiding shit from me. To get the best results from therapy, you have to actually do the work, and not just do what Dr. Raynor says, but actually listen to her advice - "

"I don't need you on my back about this, Raynor does that enough for you both," Bucky growled. "I do the fucking work - I'm the one in that room, I'm the one applying silly little rules to my life - "

"Obviously not if you didn't even tell me Raynor requested my attendance! You should've told me, and then you should've said you weren't ready! I would've respected that, but I can't do a Goddamn thing if you don't talk to me!"

His jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth, skin twitching and distinct muscles tightening. "Like I said, there's nothing to talk about," he practically spat, shaking his head at you before grabbing his sneakers from the closet.

You didn't mean to sound harsh, but demanded, "Where are you going? We're in the middle of a conversation."

"No, we're not, 'cause I'm ending it," he scoffed, sitting on the corner of your shared mattress, exchanged his shoes. "And I'm going for a run, need to clear my head."

You shook your head before leaving the bedroom, "Absolutely unbelievable."

Bucky left your shared apartment a few minutes later, somewhere you've only lived five months - the time it's been since Tony Stark, Iron Man, snapped the other half of living beings back into existence. He lost his life in return, the ultimate sacrifice, but he managed to reverse the damage Thanos created five years prior. Five months of living in this apartment without a lick of warmth, personal touch, or real sentiment; it being dreary, dark, and mostly empty. Hell, Bucky didn't even feel comfortable in bed, so he camped in the barren living room, giving visual to the way your relationship was beginning to fray, unravel, crack.

He didn't want anything personal in your apartment - thinking it was ridiculous to settle down after all you two have endured, witnessed, and fought for. You agreed to keep things at the bare minimum, only stocking what was necessary, knowing this was part of his healing process and didn't want to drum-up further anxiety. It made everything impersonal, boring, bland, and down right depressing - but it was a small accommodation you could provide your lover.

You hated the distance. Hated how alone Bucky felt after Steve. Hated how reclusive he became, the anger he projected. Hated how no matter what you did, you weren't enough - not this time. For years, you've loved him despite his flaws, his brainwashing, his trauma responses, but whatever he was enduring now was something you weren't equipped to handle. Didn't mean you weren't willing to try, but Bucky was the one pushing you away; thinking his demons were his sole responsibility, never letting you be the pillar that helped support him. God, you hated the distance.

You left the apartment, too. Nick Fury had employed you for creative, solo, high profile missions; wanting to utilize your Widow training, especially now that Natasha Romanoff was deceased. And you wanna know what? Bucky hadn't even asked about her, never tried to offer comfort, only quietly attending the funeral service you hosted with the remaining Avengers to give her a proper sendoff - despite there being no body. Bucky knew you and Nat were as thick as thieves, family without blood, two lost souls who leaned on each other in trying times; bonded by trauma, encouraged by resounding bravery, disciplined by strength. The fact that your boyfriend never even checked in with you after Nat's passing obviously hurt your feelings but you remained silent.

Again, to avoid generating more anxiety for Bucky.

You met the one-eyed man at a local, bustling coffee shop, finding the sight of the hardened, burly man eating a scone amusing. "Got you one of these," he nudged a dessert plate to your side of the table when you sat down with your desired coffee, "know you like 'em."

"Blueberries are my favorite," you half-smirked, regarding the moist muffin and sighing sadly. "All right, sir, what's on the docket?"

He stared at you for a moment, chewing thoughtfully before leaning back in his chair. "The fuck's going on with you?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You look different today."

"Mh," you nodded, joking, "got a hair cut."

"No, it's your aura. Something bothering you, kid?"

"You do realize I'm a fully grown adult, right?"

Nick shrugged, "I don't see age."

"You don't - nobody sees age, Nick, Jesus."

He took a sip of his green tea. "There's still something bothering you. Not sure if you should go on this mission if you're wound tight."

"I'm just dealing with shit at home."

"Oh, right, the cyborg. How is the hundred year old psycho?"

"You you want me to stab out your other eye? 'Cause I fucking will," you threatened with a fork clenched in your grasp, perking your brows up your forehead. "Say that shit again, see what the fuck I do, Nick, I absolutely dare you."

He chuckled, hands held in defense, "Sorry, sorry, that was uncalled for. What's wrong with Sergeant Barnes?"

You shrugged, "It's complicated."

"Bitch, aliens opening a wormhole in space and time to invade Earth is complicated - relationships aren't. Try me."

After an amused chuckle, you told him, "He's struggling right now. You know? After everything, it's been a lot for him and now that things are relatively back to normal, he's having a hard time trying to assimilate himself back into the populace. You know, learning to live in this day and age - a man out of time, outside his comfort zone, forced to adjust himself after living as a weapon of mass destruction for so long. Add in the fact that his best friend passed, marking another forceful adjustment he's unprepared for..."

"Hm," Nick nodded, "heard he's got a full pardon."

"He does."

"Which has a contingency he's gotta go to therapy, right? Part of rejoining society?"

You nodded, "Right, again."

"So he's in therapy and still struggling?"

"It's not like there's an on-off switch, Nick, therapy takes time and dedication. I just don't think he feels at peace, calm, in control - like he deserves any of this; the pardon especially. Think the stress, fear, and confusion is eating at him."

"Well, he's got you."

"I'm not his mother."

"No, you're his girlfriend, and it's a girlfriend's responsibility to support him, ain't it? Help him through this?"

"I can only do so much, Nick," you scoffed, "I'm just one person and he's a stubborn jackass - he just pushes me away. I'm sure I don't help the situation by accepting your contracts."

Fury considered your words for a long moment, then asked, "You said he's lonely?"

"Wouldn't you? Given his situation? He won't say, but I know losing Steve caused a part of him die."

Nick shrugged, "So get him a dog."

You never wouldn't guessed those words could ever pass Nick Fury's lips, head cocking, eyes narrowing, arms crossed over your chest. "I'm sorry, do what now?"

"It's obvious, ain't it? Dude needs company when you're gone, a sense of purpose, to feel like there was something - or someone - depending on him. Might help whatever limbo he's lingering in."

"A dog?"

"A dog. He can take it for walks or whatever."

You considered his recommendation, asking again, "A dog?"

"Do we need to get your hearing checked again? You lose the last functionality of your ears? Yes, a dog."

"I don't know..."

"It's just a suggestion, might promote his peace, help him process grief and guilt. Telling you, a dog would do him good. Now," he took another sip of tea, "onto business."

"You give me whiplash," you chuckled. "What's this job?"

"Simple and easy," he pulled up a tablet from the chair beside him, tapping it three times and handing it to you.

"None of your jobs are simple or easy, Nicky-Nick."

"I told you, don't call me that. Look, I just need you in London to investigate a string of potential terrorist activity. Just some recon, you won't be gone more than a few days - if you behave and stay on task."

You scanned the document, "When do I ever do that?" He chuckled briefly, you wondering, "Flagsmashers? Jesus, what a name. C'mon, you can't be serious. These guys are just radicals - you know, trying to vouch for those displaced after the Blip. It's actually kinda endearing, I mean, they're trying to give a microphone to those without a voice."

"They're escalating - too quickly," Fury informed. "They haven't raised any international flags yet, but something ain't right about them. I just need you as eyes and ears, maybe report if you think they're worth the worry."

Little did you know, in only about a month, you would join forces with Bucky and Sam Wilson - The Falcon - to dismantle the organization.

"When do I leave?"

"Tuesday would be ideal. But I can push it to Friday if you wanna go get that dog."

Your laughter was endearing, handing the tablet back over.

Bucky liked holding hands, though, he often wouldn't ever voice it. It made him feel tethered, anchored to reality; instilling a sense of pride to have such a gorgeous lady - such as yourself - at his side. However, the part he liked most, was being reminded he wasn't alone; even when on crowded, overpopulated streets, he didn't have to be afraid because with his hand in yours, he looked just like everyone else. You protected him even without intending to or without even knowing what you were doing.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he sighed, people on the street sidestepping and avoiding running into you two. "I was upset, stressed out, you know how I get after seeing Raynor."

"It's okay, baby," you assured, ever the patient, loyal, and supportive girlfriend he needed. "I'm not holding it against you, but just promise me, when you're ready, you'll tell me."

He nodded, "I will - I mean, I promise." You hummed and pet his bicep with your other hand, giving his arm a hug. "Now are you gonna tell me where we're going?"

"I told you, it's a surprise."

He was ready to reply when a small commotion echoed from the alley you were passing, Bucky coming to a jarring halt that yanked on your arm, swinging you around. You were ready to ask what was happening when you clocked one of Bucky's "friends", an older man named Yori Nakajima, arguing with one of his neighbors.

"Hey, hey, Yori," Bucky intervened, you watching from the mouth of the alley, "woah, hey, what's going on?"

You couldn't hear whatever Yori was saying, but Bucky turned to the other man and growled something at him that made the neighbor scurry off. He glared at you, lip curled in a sneer, disappearing amongst patrons of the crowded sidewalk. You frowned and approached Yori and Bucky, your boyfriend still trying to calm his friend - well, 'friend' was a very generous term. See, Yori was the father of a young man that died by the hand of the Winter Soldier, being a name on Bucky's list he needed to make amends with.

However, when you took your place beside Bucky, Yori was waving you both off and shuffling down the alley, towards one of his apartment building's doors. "What was that all about?" You asked softly, taking note of the disgruntled expression your boyfriend usually wore these days.

"Just," he sighed, shaking his head, "Yori's upset with some of his neighbors - thinks they're encroaching on being disrespectful."

"When doesn't he?" Bucky sighed, you wondering softly, "You think you're ever gonna feel ready to tell him?"

"I'm working on it," he sighed sadly. "All right, c'mon - "

You both paused with furrowed brows when there came a series of shrill meows from under a couple of soggy, cardboard boxes beside a dumpster. "Did you hear that?" You asked.

"Uh-huh."

Another elongated meow was heard, Bucky curiously approach the discarded trash coated in sewage sludge. He slowly squatted, you approaching his shoulder when another meow cried out. Now, normally, you'd never investigate animal noises out of fear they were feral and carrying disease, but something just felt sad about what you heard - apparently, to Bucky, too. Gingerly, he reached out and lifted a piece of dripping cardboard, seeing a bundle moving under the next piece. He moved that one, too.

"Oh, my God!" You cooed when a tiny kitten was revealed. White fur was stained with dirt, sludge, and other nasty juices; nose pink, eyes a piercing, clear blue with brownish tear stains rimming them. The kitten mewed in greeting, pacing a tight circle before trying to back up in the brick wall; hunching its back and hissing slightly when you lowered yourself into a squat beside Bucky. "Baby, it's all alone, should we help?" You pouted.

"I don't think it wants our help, doll," he sighed. "It looks scared of us. Bet the mother's around somewhere, be a shame to move it if she's coming back."

"It looks too skinny, maybe it's alone?"

"Or maybe it's not," Buck countered. "C'mon, sugar, we can't take it."

After a bit of back and forth, you finally relented and had to walk away. You frowned for at least two blocks, but upon your halt at a crosswalk, you were greeted by another shrieking meow. Whipping around, you and Buck both looked down to discover the wee little kitten had followed you and was practically yelling for your attention. You grinned.

"Well, now we really have to help it," you told Bucky.

"How?"

"We take it to a shelter," you answered, shrugging, "good thing I know where one is."

"What's it doing?" Bucky asked nervously, the kitten dancing around your legs; brushing up against you both, meowing the whole time.

"I think she wants you to pick her up," you smirked.

He sighed and stooped to scoop the little creature in hand, regarding it carefully; weighing it, checking paws and other vulnerable spots. Bucky muttered, "All right, yeah, fine, let's take him to a shelter. Little beast needs some food it feels like, definitely a flea bath and some fresh water."

"You big softie."

"Lead the way to the shelter, princess, c'mon," he ignored your jab, tucking the kitten into his chest protectively. "He feels fragile," Bucky worried, "maybe you should carry him, I might crush him."

"You've got the little babe, Buck," you assured, "you're not gonna hurt him - I mean, if it's even a him."

"By the attitude, could be a girl," he joked, making your heart lighten. He'd been in such a funk that you missed his teasing, soft words; the little jokes he cracked, his smile - God, you missed seeing his smile. During your time on the run after DC, while seeking refuge in Bucharest for a couple years, you grew accustomed to seeing his radiant smile; remembering how easily he offered it when just the two of you. For a moment, you considered how your relationship was no longer just you and Bucky - but his trauma, too.

Arriving at the shelter, it was like an assault on the senses. Dogs were heard barking from the kennels, the pungent smell of urine and wood chips smacking you in the face, and a sort of humidity lingering in the air - a sharp contrast to the crisp outside.

"Hi," you greeted the receptionist, offering a kind smile.

"Hi, there. How can I help you two?" The man with long hair asked.

"Well, uh, two things," you explained, "one: we'd like to tour your kennels, we're interested in adopting a dog - "

"We are?" Bucky gaped.

" - and two: we found this little fella in an alley," you pointed to the kitten curled protectively against Bucky's warmth. "We wanted to make sure he was okay, maybe leave him here for adoption?"

"Oh," Man Bun blinked, regarding both Bucky and the kitten, "wow, uh, yeah, that's really nice of you guys, rescuing the little guy. You know, since everyone came back few months ago, there's be an influx of strays. A lot of people gave up their animals when their loved ones came back."

"Well, that's super fucked up," your eyes rolled.

"Tell me about it," he sighed. "Look, I'd love to help you guys out, so, tell you what. I can let you back in the kennels - no problem! Help match you to your new companion, but, uh... I don't think I can help you with the cat. You see, we, uh, we've had to start euthanizing the overflow animals or the ones who don't get adopted in a timeframe. We're at our max capacity, so... If you wanna leave him here, uh, I can't promise he'll have a place."

"You'd put him down?" Bucky growled.

"It's not what we want to do," Man Bun swiftly explained, "but it's just necessary - we don't have the room or resources to take him."

"Do you know of any no-kill shelters? Maybe one that has room?" You asked, feeling Bucky's disgust rolling off him in waves.

"Not in the area," Man Bun frowned. "Honestly? I think the closest no-kill shelter's in Maryland. Maybe Virginia?"

"Jesus," you frowned, looking at Bucky.

"Look, my best advice?" Man Bun offered, "Take the little tike home, clean him up, and call around to other shelters to see if they have space. But if you intend to adopt a dog, maybe bringing back a kitten isn't the best timing. If you give him up to us, he'll probably be sent directly to overflow..."

"We'll take him home," Bucky instantly decided, shocking you.

"We will?" You asked softly, lips curling in a small smile.

"Why not?" He sighed.

"I would've thought you'd be more of a dog person..."

"I'm not an animal person, but we're not leaving this little guy here just for him to be euthanized. We can handle him for a few days, you know, until we find a shelter with room."

"I think that's a great idea," you grinned.

"But was this your plan? For us to adopt a dog?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Why?"

You shrugged, "Just thought a dog would be nice company when I'm outta town for work. You know, could go on walks or runs together, you'd have someone looking out for you, maybe a dog would help with your stress levels?"

He eyed you for a moment, sighing, "I appreciate that, doll. Maybe another time, though? At least let us find somewhere or someone to take this guy."

The kitten gave a prolonged squeak - seemingly agreeing. "All right, noisy, we hear you," you chuckled, giving the kitten's head a scratch. You asked Man Bun, "Do you guys have the means to check him over, you know, before we go home? Make sure he's not injured or something?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "let me go get one of the technicians."

After the tech's exam, you were given the paperwork from that day's visit, the name, number, and address of a recommended vet, and before you knew it, found yourselves at the local pet store. You would've been ashamed by the absurd amount of money you spent, but Bucky rationalized the need because you weren't sure how long your new companion would stay with you. So, you ransacked the store, buying a sizable litter box, 50 pounds of actual litter, a bag of kibble, case of wet food, several different treats, a balm for the baby's feet, too many toys and stimulation activities, a carrying case in the event of transporting the kitten, and a tiny collar - if you decided to keep the little noise machine.

The sight of Bucky with the little fuzz ball warmed your heart. He still seemed hesitant and stiff, as if afraid to hurt the kitten, but he wasn't so tense anymore. However, he handed the pet over for you to hold while he carried the supplies back home; biceps bulging to support the weight. In that moment, walking familiar streets with his arms full of cat supplies, he questioned how he got here - to feel all domestic and out-of-place. He was Bucky Barnes - a Sargent in the Army, prolific hitman, something of an Avenger now. He didn't adopt cats and buy toys!

However, watching you talk to the kitten softly, he smiled - something small at first that grew like a germinating seed to split his face. You seemed so... Bright, excited, rejuvenated, even. He knew the past five months since the Blip had been rough on you, what with losing Natasha, fighting Thanos and his army of aliens, then ricocheting into 'normal life' only to deal with his emotional baggage. Watching you walk down the street with a fuzzy white ball of energy, pointing out different things, cooing and narrating the city to the kitten as if he could understand was refreshing after seemingly seeing nothing but a frown on your lips recently.

To Bucky, as long as you were happy, he was happy - and it seemed you were very content with your new little buddy. So, he was happy with your new little buddy and figured a dose of domestic life wasn't the end of the world. In fact, he actually felt... Intrigued by the newest addition to your little family.

When you returned home, it was to an empty apartment. Bucky dropped the supplies in the living room, hands to his hips, looking around, "Well, uh... At least there's room to run around, right?"

You nodded, "And no risk of ruined furniture."

"Yeah," he sighed, watching you set the kitten down. "All right, pip squeak. C'mon, lemme give you the tour - pay attention. So, in here," he moved around the wall, kitten following and listening intently, labeling, "this is the kitchen, this is where you'll get your meals - and no, you're not allowed on the counters." He pointed a warning finger, "Don't let me catch you up there or there's gonna be hell to pay. I don't wanna find your hair in my morning bagel."

"Buck, you don't eat breakfast."

"Fine, then I don't wanna hear my girl found hair in her bagel."

The kitten mewed loudly, trotting to keep up as Bucky walked around the barren apartment - giving a literal tour. You unpacked the supplies, setting up a raised food bowl beside a full water bowl. You left the treats in an empty cupboard, the litter box ready to use in the bathroom, and tossed some toys around the open, empty living room floor. You meandered, stashing other supplies, hearing the scampering thuds of excited little feet.

When your head popped out of the kitchen, you grinned at what you saw. Bucky was sat on the floor, flicking a feathered stick over the hardwood floors for the kitten to race around and try to catch. The longer you watched, the more defenseless Bucky seemed, and dare you say it, he looked calm - maybe even happy. His eyes were locked on the animal's antics as if he didn't want to miss a single movement he made; small smile making him look younger and brighter.

You made a mental note to thank Nick Fury for his suggestion. Sure, he actually said to get a dog, but this kitten seemed to have the same effect.

"Hey, baby?" You called, hanging up your phone after calling the recommended vet. "So, uh... Listen, you know how I have to go outta town on Friday?"

"Yeah?" He glanced up, letting the kitten wrestle his booted foot.

"So, I managed to get a vet appointment but it's for Friday. Is that okay? Or do you want me to reschedule for when I'm back so we can go together?"

"Oh, uh, no, that's all right, sugar, keep the Friday slot. I can take him, it's not a big deal."

"You sure? I hate having to saddle you with this responsibility."

"I'm sure," he nodded, "I can take him, it's okay."

For the rest of the week, you had a front row viewing of an incredible bond being formed. The kitten liked you, you two had many moments together, but it was obvious the little guy adored Bucky. He was stuck to your boyfriend like Velcro, following him everywhere, shrieking for attention when Bucky was preoccupied, liked being held when he cooked, even tried to get in the shower with Bucky. They played together, Bucky's laugh warming the entire apartment; positively obsessed with one another, the little guy even sleeping between you and Bucky.

It was as if you both forgot to look for the kitten a permanent home, the lack of furniture providing wide space for play and entertainment. Bucky even got one of those cat trees, couple individual scratching posts, and a laser pointer that drove your furry friend up the wall. There was some unspoken rule about naming animals - where if you named them, they were yours officially. So, one evening over dinner, you proposed a few names, Bucky giving his opinion; but then you began to consider "theme" names. Because your little buddy was white, you mused over names like Noelle or Snow, but finally settled on Alpine after narrowly beating out Aspen.

The day you flew to London, you warned both Bucky and kitten to behave themselves. Later that night, while you were sat in a tinted SUV for surveillance, your phone rang with Bucky's contact. "Hey, baby, how's it going?" You answered, refocusing through your advanced camera lens to snap necessary photos.

"Good, yeah. Uh, how's London?"

"Pretty dreary, it's been raining all day. Hey, how was the vet appointment?"

'Oh, yeah, no, it was, uh, yeah, it was good. Gave Alpine a buncha shots, microchipped her, started her on antibiotics - "

"Did you say, 'her'?"

"Yeah, that was the other thing - turns out, Alpine's a girl."

You chuckled, "Well, I'll be damned. How're you feelin', Buck?"

"I'm... Okay."

"I'm sorry I'm not there," you sighed. "Nightmares again?"

"Yeah."

"Sleeping in the living room?"

"You know it."

"TV on?"

"Reminds me I'm not where I dreamt I am."

"Well, I'll be home in a few days."

"What's this mission?"

"Just a little recon, I'm only to observe. Nicky told me to keep an eye on some suspicious activity."

"Don't tell me you're sitting in a white van?"

"No, sir, it's a Rolls Royce this time," you chuckled.

True to your word, you were home by Tuesday night. The transatlantic flight was long and tedious; a storm creating steady turbulence, making it absolutely impossible to get any shut eye. When you landed, you made a beeline to the Starbucks and got the largest coffee possible with an added 2 shots of espresso before exiting the bustling airport. Outside, waiting at the curb, Nick Fury himself stood before a sleek and shiny car that probably cost more than a 4-year education at an American university.

He smirked, "Welcome back, kid."

"Nice of you to pick me up, Nicky-Nick."

"Don't call me that."

"Don't call me 'kid'."

"Get in the Goddamn car, I'm not having this argument again."

After storing your luggage, Nick drove you back home while listening to your mission report. You didn't think the Flagsmashers were extreme enough to warrant intervention, but all Nick heard was that now was the time to strike before there came the need, before a chance for escalation could occur. You left the tablet full of notes, observations, photos, and data with the one-eyed man, and before you fully departed the car, paused to lean in the open window.

"Hey, uh, I've been meaning to thank you."

"What for?" Nick asked, face hardened in a permanent look of disagreement. You never took it personally - Nick Fury having professional Resting Bitch Face (RBF).

"Your advice about getting Bucky a dog."

"No shit," he chuckled, "you actually got him a dog?"

"Uh, well, no..."

"What'd you get?" Nick asked in suspicion, watching your lips roll between your teeth to restrain your smile. "Ah, hell no! You didn't! A cat? A fucking cat?"

"I know you don't like them - "

"Bitch! One scratched out my eye!"

"But our cat didn't."

"Doesn't matter - fuck all them felines."

You laughed and slapped the metal door, "Well, thank you anyway for the idea of a companion animal. Bucky's a lot calmer it seems."

Nick Fury sighed, waving you off like a pesky insect. "I'll call you when I got another job. Have fun with the little demon."

"You talkin' about Bucky or Alpine?"

"The cat - wait, Alpine? The fuck kinda name is that?"

"You know, Alpine... Like the Alps?"

His head shook, "I know what fuckin' alpine is."

"Why don't you head off - looks like you're gonna give yourself a stroke. Didn't realize getting a kitten would stress you out this bad."

"Get out my Goddamn window and I can leave."

You grinned and dropped a wink, again, patting the car and stepping back onto the sidewalk. Nick peeled off, leaving you alone to shoulder your duffel bag and head inside your apartment building. When you got to your desired location, the door opened without the usual creak, Bucky obviously WD-40'ing the hinges. "Hello?" You called softly, hanging your keys on the little peg in the foyer, toeing out of your shoes, glancing around the empty apartment.

Ready to call out again, you actually almost choked on air when you inhaled but stopped abruptly. You pouted your bottom lip at the sight of Bucky sound asleep in his nest on the floor, TV's lighting flashing and creating shadows, giving clear sight of Alpine curled in a tight ball on Buck's chest. His flesh hand was raised to rest on his chest, keeping Alpine cuddled to his warmth.

Quickly, you pulled your phone from your back pocket, snapping an adorable picture of your boyfriend before silently tiptoeing away to dispose of your duffel and purse. You sent the photo to Bucky's phone, positive you were keeping the kitten. After a long, hot shower that washed the travel from your body, you changed into loungewear, pulled your hair back, then reentered the living room where you knelt at Bucky's side. In-sync, your presence made both Alpine and Bucky flinch awake - your boyfriend jerking away from your warmth as the kitten hopped off his chest.

You winced, "Oh, shit, I'm so sorry, baby, I didn't mean to wake you."

His head shook, "No, it's all right, doll, I wasn't sleeping."

"You were, don't deny it," you grinned, settling on the mound of blankets.

Bucky chuckled gently, "I tried to stay up for you. C'mere," his arm opened in invitation, smirking gently. You settled down and turned into his side, his arm now coiled around your form, constricting to pull you closer so his lips could plant on your forehead. "How was London? Your mission?"

"Easy peasy," you sighed, "nothing too strenuous or stressful. The most 'complicated' part of the whole thing was using a different car each day to avoid suspicion."

"Hmm... Who was the target?"

"Some radical group," you sighed, head resting on his pectoral. "How was it? Just you and Alpine?"

"It was pretty good, nothing to complain about. She's nice company."

As if understanding she was the topic of conversation, Alpine mewed several times in a row as she walked up the seam of your body pressed to Bucky's. She turned in two circles before settling down between you; your grin authentic as a manicured fingernail extended to scratch her head.

"Actually, sweetheart, I've been thinking..."

"Hmm? About what?" You mumbled, eyes drooping with each passing second.

"About how we should keep her - Alpine, we should keep Alpine."

"You're just figuring that out now?" You teased, sluggishly lifting your head to smirk at him. "I knew she was ours the moment you picked her up. It'll be nice having her around, don't you think? I know she's not a dog you can take on walks but with Alpine, you don't have to be alone."

He nodded, "I like that idea. She's a good cat."

"Check your phone in the morning."

"Why?"

"Mmmh, I sent you a picture, you'll see - but it's just confirmation that Alpines part of us now, part of our crew."

"Our family," Bucky agreed softly. He watched you resettle on his chest, spending the following couple hours in the glow of the TV, watching you and Alpine. Bucky's heart warmed to a degree he's never known, making the comparison of himself to Jim Carrey's, the Grinch - a movie you made him watch. Eventually, exhaustion outweighed his domestic thoughts; falling asleep with you safe in his arms and Alpine curled up between you.

"Well, this certainly is a surprise... I was beginning to think James made you up."

"Oh, please, nobody could make me up - I'm too complex, nobody's got that kinda imagination," you smirked, legs crossed, seated beside Bucky on a sofa; both facing his therapist.

"I'm glad you could finally join us - I've been asking James to bring you for a while now," Dr. Raynor's eyes darted between you and Bucky, making you feel as if she was seeing right into your soul. However, her tone was accusatory, as if scolding Bucky.

So, you swiftly defended, "Well, I'm happy to be here. Bucky's one of my top priorities, I'd do anything for him - including attending any of these silly mandated sessions. Which are bullshit, by the way, because he's not the Winter Soldier anymore so why is Bucky being crucified? Why is this being pinned on him when he technically didn't do anything? The Winter Soldier did."

"Well, healing often takes time and dedication, and must be done in a series of steps. That's how you see real progress. These sessions are a condition of his pardon - "

"I can't believe your government would even enforce these silly little rules considering Bucky's assistance. He fought against Thanos, he fought on our side, and by all means, helped restore what was lost. I just find it pretty dehumanizing to force him to jump through hoops. I mean, for Christ's sake, half the universe was snapped away, you'd think after that, there wouldn't be need for pardons or contingencies - or for holding onto grudges."

"This is simply how we keep order in a post-Blip society. Everything changed in those five years, it's necessary to keep balance amongst all worldly citizens."

You scoffed lightly, "Ever consider these sessions might be doing more harm than good?"

Raynor frowned, "Despite the Winter Soldier being decommissioned, James still has trauma to process and skeletons to clear out of the closet. Yes, the Winter Soldier is gone, but the man remains - and James needs to focus on healing that part of himself. Whatever he did as the Winter Soldier wasn't Bucky's doing, but he still remembers all he did, which creates a heavy toll on the mind. That's part of the reason these sessions are mandated - because the assassin might be gone, but the residual effects still linger."

You hummed, "Well, let's get into it, Doc."

"You know... I've heard a lot about you. James paints you in a very bright light, says your bark and bite are equally as vicious."

"Hm," you nodded, brows perked, "yet I don't know shit about you."

"Perfectly natural. Typically, most people don't gossip about their therapists. It's nice that you could join us for this session."

"Nice to be invited."

She clicked her pen and settled her pad securely on her lap, just staring at you and Bucky for a long moment. You were ready to snap at her when she opened her mouth, "So, I hear you adopted a cat?"

"We did," you confirmed.

"Alpine," Bucky supplied, body rigid with tension and nerves.

"Right... Alpine," Raynor nodded, leaning her elbow to an arm of her padded chair. "How did this cat come into your possession?"

"We rescued her from a dumpster," Bucky answered stiffly.

"Really?" Raynor perked both brows.

"She was under some pieces of cardboard, screamin' her li'l head off," You chuckled. "Though, I think it's safe to say she chose us, adopted us as caregivers."

"How's that?"

"She wouldn't let us pick her up and we were afraid to take her in case her mama was lingering around. Turns out, she followed us. We were at a crosswalk when she caught up, demanding we pick her up and take her home."

"Is that so?"

"I'd like to think so," you nodded. "We were already on our way to the shelter, so, we took her with us, got her checked out."

"Why were you heading to the shelter to begin with?"

"Oh, uh, to adopt a dog. I had a colleague recommend an emotional support animal - or a companionship animal - to help Bucky feel less alone."

Raynor made a note of something. "You work often?" She asked.

"Often enough that I feel guilty for leaving. Figured getting a dog would instill a sense of dependence, you know, help Bucky feel like there was someone depending on him. Help usher in comfort and stability, help keep him calm, focused, distracted. But Alpine does the same thing - no dog necessary, apparently."

Raynor nodded, her wrinkles dimpling as she frowned and wrote down another note. When her eyes lifted, so did her lips; a smirk on display as she praised, "I actually think that's a wonderful idea. You know, there's been a lot of research about soldiers with PTSD benefitting from an emotional support animal. You're right, they promote peace, stability, distraction - gives patrons a tangible purpose, taking care of another life not their own."

"For sure, again, anything to help," you agreed, holding Bucky's gloved hand he kept covered by leather - only worn in public.

"Although, I wonder, why get a pet? I ask because James speaks highly of you, credits you for keeping him stable and on-track. Do you feel as if she's not enough, James? Is that why you kept Alpine?"

"No," he answered instantly, "she's my best girl and will always be enough. Watch your mouth, Doc."

"But sometimes extra help is nice," you tacked on, tightening your hand in Bucky's. "But for what it's worth, Dr. Raynor, Bucky keeps me sane. I keep him balanced. We keep each other safe. Alpine's just an added bonus, a quiet menace to help quell the business of our brains."

Raynor smirked, "I must say, you surprise me, Miss."

"I'm no stranger to mental health. But as I said before, I just want to help." You looked up at Bucky, finsihing softly, "He deserves peace in this lifetime - and if a little ball of fur can help, sign me up..."

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

I expanded on this.

The gate to hell was closed, and Vecna was dead. Unfortunately, Max and Eddie were still in a coma. Things were starting to change in Hawkins, and for a lot of people, it was a welcome change. . .for the more conservative, however, it was almost like the end of the world. While Max and Eddie slept, several people packed up and left the town they no longer believed was safe. They simply refused to believe that Eddie wasn't the killer or that he wasn't possessed by Satan.

In their place, freaks like Eddie started moving into their homes. It was metalheads who wanted to support their fellow comrades, and it was nerds who wanted to know that people like them no longer had people coming after him. It was also people like Eddie, people like Robin, and people like Steve who came to support someone who they felt like he was one of their own even though they had no way of knowing. Soon, it became a safe place for metalheads, nerds, and for the queer folk. It became such a safe place for them that Robin, Steve, and Will felt comfortable enough to come out to the party.

The only downside were the conspiracy theorists that followed everyone else and the insane people who believed that they were in love with Eddie. The overwhelming number of people who moved into Hawkins became too much, even if they meant well, even if they wanted to show support for Eddie. They needed more people on the police force, which meant bringing Hopper in back as Chief, something Powell had been grateful for.

"I still can't believe it," Robin rambled as she stacked videotapes. "Who knew that Vecna tearing a hole in the middle of Hawkins would lead it to becoming, like San Franciso?"

"Yeah, did you know the Hideout is basically a gay bar now?" Steve asked.

"What?! No!" Robin shrieked as she dropped a tape and then she narrowed her eyes. "Wait. . .how do you know? . . . Steve Muriel Harrington, did you go and have a one-night stand?"

"Shut up, I should have never told you my middle name. I couldn't sleep, okay?" Steve blushed.

"Okay, so, how much did this guy look like Eddie?" Robin asked.

"Not at all," Steve scoffed. "Okay, a little bit . . . a lot! He looked a lot like Eddie, but he was mean. I know that Eddie could be an asshole, but he was too mean. . . too rude to the bartender who was serving him drinks. It made me feel good about giving him a fake number and a fake name."

"So, how often did you call him Eddie while you were pounding away inside of him?" Robin said.

"You ever think we should consider the whole boundary thing that Nancy says we should have?" Steve asked.

"Okay, so several times then," Robin grinned. "Nance is joking because where is the fun in having boundaries?"

"By the way, there was no . . . um, you know. . .," Steve said, blushing.

"Penetration?" she asked.

"Nope," Steve replied.

"You're hoping to save that for Eddie, aren't you?" Robin asked, grinning and then looked at him softly. "He's going to wake up, you know. So is Max. Being possessed by an evil wizard takes a lot out of people. It has to. They just need to rest."

"I know," he said.

The bell above the door rang, and Vickie burst through, her face shining in excitement. She ran towards Robin and didn't skid to a stop in time, causing the tapes in Robin's arms to spill onto the floor.

"Sorry," Vickie squeaked.

"It's not a problem. I've done worse," Robin said with a wide grin, her eyes as shiny as Vickie's face.

"I got asked out by a woman! Though she wasn't the one that I wanted to ask me out or the one that I wanted to ask out, actually. Though she was hot, and I definitely have a thing for women with pretty blue eyes," Vickie rambled. "Anyway, after I rejected her, but I did it very nicely, I came here because I wanted to ask you out. I understand if you don't want to. I totally would get through it because I'd want you in my life no matter what. Yeah, right, I actually have to ask you out. Will you go out with me?"

They were still kneeling on the floor in the middle of a bunch of video tapes. Robin stared at her for a moment before grinning.

"Yeah, I would love to!" Robin exclaimed.

"Great!" Vickie exclaimed and surged forward to kiss her.

The kiss was quick, and she broke it to help Robin pick up the tapes. Vickie mumbled something about heading to work and kissed Robin again before rushing out the door. Robin gaped at the door before turning to Steve, who's mouth was also opened. They moved towards each other at the same time. They screamed and started jumping at the same time. Steve hugged Robin tightly. She pulled back and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Don't worry, Steve. If it happened for me then it's going to happen for you," Robin said. "That's how platonic soulmates work, right?"

"Duh," Steve rolled his eyes affectionately.

The bell above the door rang, and they turned their heads at the same time. Hopper walked in. Steve frowned. Was he really expecting Eddie to walk in and ask him out?

"Am I interrupting something?" Hopper asked.

"Vickie asked me out!" Robin blurted out.

"She the girl you kept going on about?" Hopper asked.

"Yeah," she said dreamily.

"I'm happy for you. You know, uh, that Gareth kid asked out Will," Hopper replied.

"Gareth and Will? I didn't even know they were friends," Steve said in surprise.

"Yeah, Gareth was upset about Eddie, sitting by his beside. Will was volunteering as usual and he comforted him," Hopper said.

"Will is such a precious angel," Robin said fondly.

"Yeah," Hopper said, a proud look on his face.

"Aw, proud dad," Robin said.

"Isn't Gareth a little bit older?" Steve asked.

"Only by two years," Hopper scoffed. "I like the guy. He's pretty respectful of Will and the three inches rule so I'll allow it for now."

"As long as it's not Mike, right?" Steve asked with a grin.

"Hey, I like the guy as long as none of my kids are dating him," Hopper said. "Which thankfully none are. I actually came here to talk to you, Steve."

"Look, I think of you like a dad and I like Joyce too much so I'm going to have to turn you down," Steve quipped and Robin snorted with laughter.

"Don't make me shoot you, kid," Hopper said, the corners of his mouth twitching. "I'd hate to kill a potential deputy."

"What?!" Steve and Robin asked.

"Look, as you know, we're kind of overrun over there even with Owens providing some agents as deputies," Hopper said. "I know you don't trust anyone of those goons, neither do I but we need the help and I kind of need to someone else that I trust around there. I know you guys have a thing about cops too but sometimes the best thing is to fix it from the inside, and I trust what you have to say. You're a good kid, with good instincts, and I think you would make a good cop. Just think about it."

"Well, then we wouldn't be working together," Robin said with wide eyes.

"You're welcome to help out around the station part time, kid. I'd hate to break up the set," Hopper said. "Your mom told me you were looking for a second job. What do you call each other again? Oh, yeah. Platonic soulmates."

"Platonic with a capital P!" they said, leaning their heads together.

"Let me confer with my soulmate for a moment," Robin said.

They moved to the back to the store and pressed their foreheads together, whispering. It was only a couple of minutes later before they were back again.

"We'll take the job!" Robin and Steve exclaimed.

Now, here they were several weeks later, and Steve had settled into his role as a deputy pretty well. It was hard work and a pretty good distraction from the fact that Eddie, as well as Max, wasn't awake. Now that school had let out for the summer and Robin had graduated, she was now working part-time at the station. The crowd outside the hospital was still sitting in wait for the day their lord and savior, Eddie Munson would awaken. Some days, they were quiet and settled. Other days, they grew quite rowdy, and there are more days now where they were restless. Hopper swore they would get bored eventually, and it wasn't like they were violent. . .well, aside from a rare few. So far, they were just eager to know that one of their own was okay, which Steve thought was kind of sweet. Steve was filling out paperwork at his desk, ignoring the balls of paper Robin was throwing at him, when Hopper came barreling out of his office looking pale.

"Chief?" Steve asked.

"They're awake," Hopper said.

Steve didn't hesitate to follow Hopper out the door, and Robin followed quickly behind him. They went to see Max first, and they her sitting up slightly, her new glasses on her face. Lucas, El, and Susan surrounded her bed.

"Did I miss anything?" Max asked and then grinned. "Ew, Steve, are you a cop? Disgusting."

"I'll forgive you for that, but so you know, once you are up and moving around, I'll have something to say," Steve said. "I might even get a lawyer because I believe that's slander, Mayfield."

"If your lawyer is Dustin, he's not going to do well against Nancy," Max laughed.

"Ooh, your lawyer is Nancy? Yeah, Dustin's toast," Robin said.

"You make a good cop, Steve," Max said softly. "If anyone can make those lazy cops get off their asses, it's you. You're an example of what a good cop should be, Steve."

"Thanks, Max," Steve said, looking touched. "Glad you're awake, kid."

"So, I have to ask. . .the full grown mustache. . . Are you trying to look like Hopper?" Max asked.

"What? No?!" Steve exclaimed.

"He does think of Hopper like a dad," Robin pointed out.

"Aww, Steve, do you want Hopper to be your dad?" Max teased.

"Leaving now," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

He made it to Eddie's room and stood in front of it. He was trembling in excitement, but he was also nervous. Before he became a cop, he was here almost every day holding his hand. In that time, he got to know Wayne and Eddie's friends. He also got to know Eddie some more from the stories they told. They were weary about him at first, but once they saw how much he cared, they accepted him easily. Once Steve got them talking about Eddie, they couldn't shut up. Steve took a deep breath and calmed his nerves. He pushed open the door and strolled in. The members of Hellfire and Corrded Coffin had surrounded Eddie's beside. Wayne wouldn't be there yet, seeing as he was stuck at work. Calling him had been the first thing he had done when he got to the hospital. Eddie was sitting up, grinning, and then he spotted Steve. Eddie frowned in confusion.

"Harrington! You've been working so hard we were starting to forget what you looked like," Jeff said. "Damn, baby, you fill out that uniform good."

Jeff started wolf whistling, and the other boys soon followed.

"Alright! Cut it out!" Steve laughed. "What did I say about flirting with me to get my grandmother's brownie recipe, Jeffrey?"

"To keep doing it," Jeff grinned.

"No, no, I did not say that besides, I know I'm not your type," Steve laughed.

"What? Since when is a man with good hair and meaty thighs not my type?" Jeff cackled.

"Argyle doesn't have a problem with it?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Please, Argyle doesn't have a jealous bone in his body. Besides, so far, it's just sex," he grinned. "Really good sex."

"Wait. . .so, Steve knows about you? You're flirting with Steve. . .wait, are you friends with my friends?" Eddie asked.

"Actually, they're my friends now, too, Eddie. We share custody," Steve said proudly.

"Aw, Dad, we finally have a mother, and he makes the best brownies," Gareth said, leaning heavily onto Steve’s shoulder.

"Fuck off, Emerson," Steve laughed.

"By the way, since when are you a cop?" Eddie asked.

"Things around here have gotten a bit overwhelmed since you've been asleep," Steve shrugged.

"Yeah, Hawkins has gotten a lot more interesting since you decided to be lazy, Munson," Frankie said.

"It's very, very good," Gareth grinned.

"What the hell does that mean?" Eddie asked.

"You'll never believe it until you see it," Frankie said.

Hopper popped his head in for a moment and whispered in Steve's ear. He smirked and looked over at Eddie, who was staring at them in confusion. Steve wiggled his fingers at him. Hopper tipped his hat at Eddie before leaving. Steve leaned down and whispered in Gareth's ear, and he grinned, jumping up.

"Alright, boys," Gareth said. "Teddy wants to talk to us. He's probably quite eager for Eddie to start playing at the Hideout again!"

They said goodbye to him one by one, and then they were gone. Steve went to take Gareth's seat but was impeded by the crumbs he left behind. Steve started muttering as he turned around to clean it off, giving Eddie a clear view of his ass. Suddenly, Eddie's heart monitor started beeping a little louder. Steve whirled around.

"Eddie!" Steve exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think I accidentally, uh, messed with one of the wires," Eddie blushed.

"Okay," Steve frowned, looking at him, thoughtfully.

He turned around again and started swiping off the crumbs. Eddie's heart monitor went off again, and Steve turned around again.

"I swear! I am trying not to touch them!" Eddie shrieked. "Just sit down, man! Forget about the crumbs."

Confused by his reaction, Steve sat down, crossing his legs like he usually did. Eddie groaned and leaned his head back.

"Your uncle wanted to be here, but unfortunately, he missed a lot of days sitting by your beside, so he can't get away. The compensation money only went so far, and you guys also got a house out of it," Steve said, grinning.

"Wait, an actual house?!" Eddie asked.

"With your own rooms and everything," Steve replied. "Of course, you'll still be living next door to the Mayfields. I think Wayne insisted on it."

"Really?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, Susan and Wayne have gotten friendly over the last few months," Steve shrugged.

"How friendly?" Eddie asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, he is the one who pulled Susan's head out of her own ass. Her drinking got worse after Max went into the coma. It nearly killed her. I was visiting with Wayne when I decided to go check in on Susan, and we found her unresponsive. When we finally got her sober enough, Wayne gave her quite the talking too," Steve said, and then he deepened his voice to sound like Wayne. "I ain't gonna yell at you, but I am going to tell you God's honest truth. I heard a lot about that husband and stepson of yours to know that you put that little girl through hell. You didn't lift a single finger to stop it. If you die now and that girl wakes up, it's always going to hang over her head that she wasn't enough for you to do better, that she deserved the crap you put her through. You owe it to her now to prove to her that she is enough and that you can do better. I expect you to be clean and waiting by her beside when she wakes up. Don't do it for me, don't do it for you. . .do it for her."

"Damn, that sounds exactly like Uncle Wayne," Eddie said, blinking back tears. "It worked?"

"Yeah, she's even therapy now working on her issues. She's really grateful for Wayne," Steve smiled.

"Good for her, I'm glad it worked on someone's parents," Eddie sighed.

"Yeah, Wayne's the best, I wish my dad was more like him," Steve said.

"Dads can be such assholes. Guess it's not just mine?" Eddie asked, and Steve shook his head. "So, when can I leave here? The food here is just awful. . .company isn't so bad, though."

"Once the doctor clears both you and Max, you guys should be able to go home by this evening," Steve said. "By the way, you are in luck. I'm the one who's going to be taking you home."

"Lucky me. . .so we won, huh?" Eddie asked.

"In more ways than one," Steve grinned.

Once they were ready to leave, Steve wheeled him out to the back of the hospital.

"I guess the protesters are out front," Eddie muttered.

"Something like that," Steve said and wheeled him over to his car.

He helped Eddie out of the wheelchair, catching him around the waist when the metalhead stumbled. They were really close now, their noses practically brushing up against each other's. Steve could feel Eddie's breath against his lips.

"Uh, I'd like to sit down," Eddie said awkwardly.

"Right, right," Steve said.

He cleared his throat and set Eddie in the passenger's seat. He pulled out of the hospital and frowned. For once, the usual people weren't there. Where the hell did they go? Steve got his answer a moment later when he saw them lined up on the sidewalk leaving the hospital. Eddie had to do a double take when he saw them walking down the street.

"What the fuck?! Steve. . .where the hell are we?" Eddie asked.

"We're in Hawkins, dude," Steve replied.

"Um, no the fuck we're not. What did I just see? There's more of them!" Eddie exclaimed as he stuck his head out the window.

"Oh my God! ls that Eddie Munson?!" A girl shrieks, and Eddie freezes. "EDDIE! I LOVE YOU!"

"Oh my God! Steve. She's chasing after the car like a goddamn dog! Steve! She's fucking fast! You tell me where the fuck we actually are right this instant, Steven, because there is no way this is fucking Hawkins! Are you - are you laughing at me? Steve!!" Eddie shrieked.

Steve pulled him down by his belt, and Eddie glared at him as he rolled up the window.

"Okay, so, after you slipped into your coma, the gates closed, and you were cleared of all charges, a lot of people started to leave. Most of them were uptight conservatives, of course. Word started spreading about you and how you were framed for murder. Slowly, it started off with the metalheads coming to town to support one of their own, then came the gays, the lesbians, and the bisexuals as well as a few transgender people. It was enough to kick out more uptight assholes but there are some who are refusing to leave. At first, they protested, but now they're slowly coming to terms with it. It's funny watching them have to sort of adjust to our way of life instead of the other way around," Steve said. "And these people, they all love you, Eddie."

"Our way of life?" Eddie asked.

"Well, for me and Robin, I don't know about you, but she's a lesbian and I'm bisexual," Steve said.

"Yeah, me too," Eddie said softly, and then his eyes widened. "I mean, bisexual, not a lesbian. Not there's anything wrong with being a lesbian but it's not who I am."

"Eddie, I got it," Steve said, laughing.

"So, what? After being nearly swallowed up by hell, Hawkins is a safe place to live now?" Eddie asked. "I woke up expecting to be chased out of my own hometown like they've been trying to do with me my whole life. This is just. . . What the fuck?"

Eddie looked down at his lap, his eyes filling up with tears. Once Steve managed to get away from Eddie's admirers, he pulled off to the side and parked onto the shoulder. He leaned over and pulled Eddie into his arms, hugging him gently. Eddie wrapped his arms around, his hands digging into his back as he cried.

"It's okay, I've got you. You're safe," Steve whispered in his ear.

Eddie clung to him as he calmed down. Once the tears stopped and his body was no longer shaking, he pulled away from him. Steve pulled a tissue out of the glove box and gave it to him. Eddie thanked him, and they drove the rest of the way to his house. They finally arrived at Eddie's house. It was in a secluded neighborhood, two houses at the end of the street, and blocked off by trees from the rest of the neighborhood, which meant that Eddie could probably play his music as loud as he wanted to. Although Max might have something to say about it. Eddie's house was a modest one story with white shudders and pale blue walls. The paint was peeling a bit, but overall, the house was nice, and it was a lot better than the trailer.

Eddie started struggling with his seat belt, which was perfect because Dustin's face appeared in the window, and the curtain pulled back. 'Not ready,' he mouthed. Steve sighed. That meant distracting Eddie. Steve grinned. He leaned over and started helping him with his seatbelt. They got it unstuck, but Steve didn't move from his position once the seat belt was removed. His face was rather close to Eddie's.

"There's something that I've been wanting to do since you woke up," Steve said.

"Kill me?!" Eddie yelped.

"What?! No!" Steve laughed. "Close, though."

He captured Eddie's perfectly plump lips with his, kissing him softly. At first, Eddie didn't respond, and Steve was worried that he misread the signals. He started to pull away when suddenly Eddie grabbed him the back of the neck and pulled him back in. Suddenly, his soft kiss had turned into a bruising, desperate kiss. Steve returned it with the same amount of enthusiasm, hand in Eddie's hair. Eddie broke the kiss, breathing heavily.

"Maybe we should take this inside," Eddie gasped.

"Or maybe we take this to the back seat, and you shackle me with my own handcuffs," Steve said and attached his lips to Eddie's neck.

Eddie groaned as Steve kissed his neck and let out a guttural moan when Steve started nipping at it, his mustache tickling his neck.

"You're killing me, Steve," Eddie said. "I fucking knew you would. Robin?"

Steve broke away and looked at him.

"Okay, I have to say calling me by my best friend's name when I'm trying to put the moves on you is a little weird," Steve said.

"What? No! She's just popped her head out of my new front door, looked at us, rolled her eyes, and went back in. What is going on?" Eddie asked.

"You'll see, come on," Steve said and climbed out of the car before helping Eddie.

"You were distracting me," Eddie said, narrowing his eyes at him.

"I really did want to kiss you," Steve said sheepishly.

They started walking towards when Eddie stopped him.

"You threw me a welcome home party, didn't you?" Eddie asked.

"I might have, for both you and Max," Steve said. "Planned the whole thing while you were sleeping."

Eddie grinned at Steve and wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. He broke it, leaning his forehead against Steve’s.

"This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," Eddie said and paused. "By the way, you're absolutely killing me with that uniform. It should be illegal for anyone to look this good. You're going to have to arrest yourself because, baby, you're breaking quite a few laws."

Steve giggled and kissed him, not caring if anyone else was watching them. They broke apart when they heard Max's front door open. She came out and started walking towards Eddie's house, leaning on her cane. She narrowed her eyes at them, looking much like a bug with her new glasses. Her mother followed behind her.

"Dustin called and said he wanted us to come over," Max said. "He threw us a party, didn't he?"

"I'm not saying anything," Eddie said, and Max rolled her eyes. "It was all Steve!"

"Nice," Steve scoffed.

"Thanks, Steve," Max said softly.

She wrapped her arm around his waist, hugging him. She leaned against him and let him help her inside. His free hand wrapped around Eddie's. They all walked into the small but spacious living room where everyone jumped out with noisemakers. Steve, Eddie, and Max jumped. Max stuffed her face into Steve’s side.

"Surprise!" Dustin shrieked. "Welcome home!"

"Oh my god!" Eddie exclaimed. "I am so surprised!"

"Oh, Goddamnit! Steve told you, didn't he?" Dustin exclaimed and Eddie shrugged, grinning.

"He guessed," Steve shrugged.

"This is still pretty nice, Henderson. Thank you all," Eddie said, and he started hugging everyone. "Max is crying, by the way."

"Fuck off!" Max exclaimed.

Steve watched as the party took off, and Eddie mingled with everyone. For the first time in a long time, Steve felt at peace, and he felt safe, especially when he looked at Eddie. . . When he looked at what this town had become. At some point during the mingling, Eddie came over and nestled himself into Steve’s arms. Yeah, everything was perfect.

[nburkhardt]

Every Time You Shine, I’ll Shine For You.

Soooo this was originally going to be full one shot, but I’ve decided since it’s been sitting in my drafts for months, that I’m just going to post it as either an unfinished piece for now. I might try to come up with a second half but for now enjoy this soulmate au ✨

Having a soulmark wasn’t necessary for Steve. Sure, seeing the word- the nickname his soulmate will eventually call him is nice. But it’s not needed, not in his eyes at least.

At the age of five years old, everyone in the world gets a nickname on their wrist. It’s fate telling you your perfect match, that the other half of your soul is out there for you. It’s the ultimate fairytale growing up, that it burns when you hear the nickname said by your soulmate and there’s an instant spark, instant connection. It’s the bedtime story, the ultimate love story and something to wish for.

It’s a wish everyone wants but Steve Harrington.

He has a very good reason to not like the idea of having a “perfect match” out there for you. While he heard the stories and sees the potential in it, he grew up watching his parents be in love without being actual soulmates. Hears stories of their love and ideas of finding love on your own, deciding to show the world that they don’t need fate’s help.

It’s beautiful and he wants that. Wants to make his own story, find his own match. There’s no need for fate to help him.

On his fifth birthday, he watched ‘Dingus’ appear on his wrist, it made him pout while his parents laughed and kiss his head, told him not to worry. That he doesn’t have to be with whoever fate picked for him and joked about only being five.

It eases his five year old mind.

His parents aren’t surprised to watch him grow up to be a true romantic, isn’t surprised to see his love in everything and how having a soul mark doesn’t stop him from having crushes or falling in love.

Life goes on but after some failed relationships and the disaster of a relationship with Nancy; seeing the nickname give him some hope that somewhere out there, there is someone for him. Someone who fate decided is his match, which growing up he hated it.

At eighteen, he really thought he’d already be with the person he’d love forever (and who would love him). But instead of that, he’s single and not at all close to figuring out why fate’s pick for him would call him “dingus” of all things. To top it all of he’s stuck working at the new Scoops Ahoy until he hears back from the colleges he applied too.

The uniform is lame, it’s in the middle of the brand new mall and it’s leaning towards being too cold in the shop and he doesn’t even know his coworker yet, hopefully they’re not expecting him to be some big shot like he was in high school.

Those days are long gone, he’d rather be his lame and hopeless romantic self instead of the asshole keg king he was.

His first week of working is spent being laughed at by ex-teammates, being ignored by his only coworker and failing to get at least a date with someone. It’s not his longest week, but it’s real close.

After a total of three weeks of getting ignored and laughed at by people he flirts with, his coworker, Robin decides enough is enough and- “maybe with this you’ll try harder”

Glancing behind him, she’s standing there with the whiteboard from the back but instead of the random doodles she drew, it looks like a score board with You Rule/You Suck on it.

There’s already three tally marks under ‘You Suck’ and he can’t figure out if it makes him want to laugh or cry, maybe both.

Definitely both.

“At least I’m trying here, you could find your soulmate with flirting!”

Robin rolls her eyes and hangs the board up behind her, “I’d rather suck on a lemon than flirt with guys”

It surprises him for all of three seconds before he rolls his eyes, whatever, he thinks. If she wants to miss the opportunity to find a soulmate, so be it. He’ll continue trying to find love, he doesn’t need whoever fate picked.

The board is definitely mocking him, he thinks several days later. Currently there’s five tally marks under ‘You Suck’ and a big fat nothing under ‘You Rule’. Robin thinks it’s the funniest thing on the planet.

He doesn’t find it funny, he finds it embarrassing and stupid, actually. Really embarrassing, especially when she brings it out when another girl their age walks in. It’s like she’s doing it on purpose.

Which is confusing, she told him explicitly that she does not like him and will only ever tolerate him. So, her practically chasing people away doesn’t make sense.

Her loud crackle of a laugh starts as his head nearly hits the counter, “That’s another one for the you suck column! Zero for the you rule, popeye!”

Standing up he turns around with a glare, “yeah I can read!”

“You sure about that one, Dingus?”

His wrist burns and he can’t stop his eyes from going wide. There’s no way, absolutely no way. This is a fluke, she must have seen his mark one day. That’s why his soulmate mate, fate’s pick, is his co-worker.

His disbelief and discomfort most show on his face because Robin shifts on her feet, “I’m uh, sorry. If I took that too far, really-uh I don’t think that way about you and, and- this is was” she looks uncomfortable now, tripping over her words.

Opening his mouth to calm her down, he find that his words are gone. The disbelief stopping him. He quickly shuts it and looks away from her. The shop is completely empty. When did that happen?

“Steve- I really didn’t mean to be well, mean.”

All he can do is nod back, “no, uh, I get it. Really- uh. It’s fine.”

How exactly is he supposed to do this? He’s never once called her a nickname! Unless she was his but he isn’t hers? He doesn’t know. Either way he’s still a little disappointed.

“You sure? Because uh, you’re looking a little pale there”

A laugh bubbles up and before he realizes it he’s on the ground with his back against the counter and tears on his face, “ye-yeah. Sorry.”

He hears her move around and then there’s a foot bumping his, he moves his head to look at her.

“We’re currently low on everything, did you know that? It’s unbelievable, just wiped clean.” Robin explains with amusement dancing on her face, “Scoops Ahoy is officially closed for the day”

That surprises a laugh out of him as tries to loosen the tension that built up, moving his arms he puts his chin on his knee, Robin copies him. They’re just looking at each other, comfortable in this silence.

“Sooo”

“Look-”

Their eyes meet and both burst out laughing. This feels different, at least for Steve. There’s something soothing coursing through him now, he never felt on edge with Robin but he wasn’t always this comfortable either. A smile spreading on his face, he didn’t know about this feeling when you meet your soulmate.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He snorts, “they might be worth more, Birdie”

Robin gasps and he looks at her, but her eyes are wide and locked on her wrist. He follows her look and he can’t exactly see what she’s looking at but he knows it’s her soul mark.

They really are soulmates.

This is where I’d put the continuation… if I had the idea for it! (Said in that fairlyodd parents meme)

Anyway! If this brought you some inspiration, you can totally take whatever piece you want and write something! But please know I had this ending up as Steddie with side of Rockie (Vickie&Robin)

Permanent taglist: @spectrum-spectre @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @cartercaptainofthemoon @bookworm0690 @strangersteddierthings

[leviathanspain]

you NEED to write more for Tom 😭😭😭 like I’ve been thinking so much about age-gap f!assistant tropes with Tom it’s actually insane, like Tom asking you nonchalantly to ride his thigh (or him) in his office 🌸🌸

skin tight

tom wambsgans x assistant!reader

synopsis: tom knows how to push your buttons perfectly, and you let him

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

tom wambsgans was a total asshole. he was arrogant, thought himself to be the hottest piece of ass to ever come out of ATN and you were stuck working for him, bringing him coffee just to never drink it, or to make you run all around the city looking for a bagel that didn't exist. it was an endless cycle, but you found him to be the most tolerable associate of the roy family, and decided that between him and kendall, being tom's assistant wasn't all that bad.

if you ignore the obvious sexual tension of course.

"here is that-" you didn't get to finish your sentence before tom waved you away. you sighed, rolling your eyes as you spun on your heel and stepped out of his office, tossing the scalding cup of coffee into the nearest bin before settling back down at your desk. that had been the third time today that tom had made you get things for him, just for him to send you and it away. normally you wouldn't let this behavior phase you, but it was starting to get to be too much.

there had been a break in your thoughts and you turned to glimpse into tom's office, and found him already looking at you. you gasped slightly in surprise and stood up, knowing that this had been no coincidence.

you kept your head bowed as you stepped inside the office. you could feel his eyes on you, feeling the irritation coming from his gaze. you swallowed thickly, "tom?" was all you could manage, unsure of what to say, especially to him.

"close the blinds," he spoke quietly, not whispered but a quiet, and serious tone. you did as he said, moving to first close the one directly facing your desk. you watched as the life of the ATN office was shut away by the white blinds. your hands shook slightly but you finished the rest. you turned around, silently waiting for him to speak.

he finally did speak, after a minute of unbearable silence.

"now come fuck yourself on my thigh." his words had left you speechless, but you weren't exactly opposed to not doing as he said. you stared at him for a moment and he shrugged, "clearly you've been angry with me. i am giving you an opportunity to release that anger." he spoke cooly, glancing over at his computer, as if this was like any other work conversation.

you waited, thinking.

"okay." you decided, and watched as tom looked up in mild surprise, as if he hadn't expected you to agree. how could you not? not when he's been subtly hitting on you since your employment. tom wambsgans was an asshole, and cheating on his wife had been nothing new at this point. nearly everyone in waystar royco had heard of shiv and tom's marital problems.

tom watched as you walked over to his desk. you were wearing a tight black pencil skirt, so tight that he could see your hip indentations. you leaned against his desk, his thigh next to you. "i need you to pull my skirt up. It's-" you didn't finish, his fingertips grazed your skin as he shucked your skirt up, seeing your lacy underwear peeking out. he looked at you and you remained unmoving, letting him proceed to remove your panties, gently pulling them and letting them slide down your legs.

he patted you to step out of them. you inhaled a breath as his finger ran once over your slick folds. your breath shook slightly but your thoughts were clouded by lust. all you could think about was how good your cunt will feel against his thigh.

tom didn't remove his pants. he was going to let you fuck yourself on his hundred dollar suit pants.

you hovered over him, and his hand found it's way to graze your cheek, brushing your hair back as you finally sat down on his leg, feeling the friction of the fabric against your cunt. you shivered, and tom's hand moved to your waist, gripping it.

you inhaled sharply as your hips began to move.

"i was doing it on purpose." he spoke, eyes glued to the sight of your pussy grinding down on his thigh. tom smirked, "watching you listen to my demands like it was the word of god.." he trailed off and you grunted, "shut up." you whispered weakly, too focused on the pleasure to defend yourself properly.

you knew tom saw you as nothing but his young female assistant, nothing other than someone to fuck. what you were currently doing did not help your image. in his eyes, you were weak, a plaything, a punching bag.

you moaned, unable to hold yourself up, you grabbed onto his shoulder to steady yourself. tom grunted softly, "mmhm, let me hear you baby." he whispered, hand brushing through your hair. it was slightly romantic, and it made you feel uneasy. romance was something that had to be avoided at all costs with tom wambsgans.

you panted, and gripped his shoulder tightly as you felt yourself getting close. he chuckled deeply. "you're so wet, you're seeping through." he loved it, he loved how good his thigh was making you feel. he could only imagine how you would look stuffed with his cock.

you shivered, moaning loudly as you came all over his thigh. tom gripped your waist, and he was smirking, watching as you fell against him. he was warm, the fabric of his suit felt nice against your cheek. even his hand had been rubbing your back.

you jolted up, and awkwardly leaned off. you stood up, deciding to struggle to get your skirt down as he looked at the mess you had made on his thigh. you were blushing red, hot and absolutely bothered. you stared at him, and at your crumpled panties that you had forgotten to slip back on. he followed your gaze and picked them up.

tom stuffed them into his pocket, and scooted back behind his desk. he began to work as if nothing happened and you remained planted, quiet and exhausted.

tom didn't glance at you, "you can go. and don't ever roll your eyes at me again." you began to walk away, "yes, sir."

asshole, you thought silently, letting his office door slam behind you as you walked past your desk, deciding to take the rest of the day off.

[goatcheesecak3]

How about Adam x reader who were dating before the trap, maybe got into a fight, but Adam lives because that’s definitely what happened and they find each other.

Also ur NSFW hcs were good so feel free to sprinkle some spice if you see fit :)

Lost and found

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x gn!reader

Fic type: angst, fluff

Warnings: missing person, medically induced coma

A/n: hello!! Thank you for your request, it was such a cute idea!! There's no nsfw because I couldn't find a way for it to fit into this story, but while we're on the topic I just wanna give a message to anyone who saw my Adam nsfw hcs!! I originally posted the unfinished version by accident, but I've gone back and added more to them since! So make sure you're all caught up on those, in my very biased opinion they're extremely canon teehee :^) all can be found in my masterlist as usual

You and Adam had dated for two years before finally ending it about a month ago. The relationship was tumultuous to say the least, epic highs followed by epic lows. Being with Adam could be so wonderful at times, the way he kissed you like you were the only person in the world, the way he would have you folded in on yourself laughing. Your memory was filled with long nights spent talking and falling deeper and deeper in love. Adam was good with his words, which was a blessing and a curse- he could make your heart flutter just as easily as he could crush it. Arguments were frequent, and volatile, he always took things too far. Deciding that this was no way to live, with heavy hearts, the two of you called it quits.

You'd heard around from mutual acquaintances that he'd gotten into a pretty rough spot after the breakup, apparently he'd become some kind of stalker for hire? Like a private investigator but with absolutely no credentials or regard for his or anyone else's safety. It didn't exactly surprise you that he'd gone into a somewhat shady line of work, considering his lack of high school diploma there weren't really many options for him, you wished you could help, but you'd both agreed to keep your distance and move on.

One day however, you couldn't help but break the promise you'd made to yourself, and you asked about him. You'd run into his best friend, Scott at a video store, and despite all your restraint, the words tumbled out of your mouth:

"How's Adam been lately?"

"Pfft how should I know? I haven't spoken to that asshole since he totally bailed on my band photoshoot" Scott scoffed, rolling his eyes disinterestedly.

It wasn't like Adam to turn down paid work of any kind, so you decided to pry deeper,

"What do you mean? He just didn't show up?"

"Yeah, no call, no nothing. He hasn't spoken to anyone. Probably thinks he's too good for me and the guys now with his investigator bullshit, but lemme tell y-"

"Wait, he's actually doing that?! That's so dangerous, you don't think he's gotten himself into trouble do you?"

"I don't know, I got my own shit to worry about. Besides, no one bails on me and gets my sympathy. Scott Tibbs don't chase, baby." He said, all too loudly. You could practically see his ego bulging out of his head.

As you left the video store, the interaction played on your mind. After you and Adam had broken up, Scott was pretty much the only person in his life, and he didn't seem to give two hoots about Adam's wellbeing. Essentially, there wasn't a single person on earth who'd heard anything from Adam in the last week, and no one seemed to be trying to find him. You knew his family were estranged, and pretty much everyone else in his life were all acquaintances at best. If he was in trouble, it was up to you to help.

You headed to his apartment, just to see if he was home. Best case scenario he was, and you got some of your cds back, worst case.. well, you didn't wanna think about that.

You crept up the creaky mildewy staircase of his apartment complex until you reached his floor. Something in your gut felt wrong as you got closer to his door, something that you couldn't quite understand. It wasn't fear, it was overwhelming dread. You always thought there was a big difference between those two feelings; fear was wondering if something bad would happen, and dread was knowing in your heart that it would.

You knocked on his door and waited a beat. Nothing. For whatever reason, a voice in your head told you to try the door handle, and to your surprise, it was unlocked. Adam's apartment looked frozen in time, a half eaten bowl of mouldy noodles sat on his coffee table, an empty beer bottle next to it. Everything looked untouched. That was until your eyes made their way to the floor next to his closet- his camera. Smashed to pieces, and left strewn all over the floor. Your eyes darted up toward his redroom, which appeared to have been ransacked.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. You repeated over and over in your head like a mantra.

Your first thought was that someone he'd been stalking had caught him, followed him home to destroy any damning evidence, then deal with Adam.

Panic set in at this moment, as you rushed through his apartment, desperately hoping he was just passed out somewhere.

"Adam?! Adam?!" You cried out, to no avail.

Of course, the second you had regained enough composure to remember to do so, you called the police and filed a missing person's report. The next few days were filled with police interviews, cutting out and sticking the few pictures of Adam you had onto missing person's posters and plastering them all over the city. You handed them out to anyone who would take them, you gave them to all the venues and corner shops that Adam often went to, and you hounded the police relentlessly.

Sure, Adam was your ex, but my god how you had loved him, how you still loved him. You were the only person in his life who loved him, and you refused to give up.

After 6 never ending days, your phone rang. It was a call from the police.

"We've found a young man fitting Adam's description on the outskirts of the city. He's currently in the hospital in a medically induced coma while the staff tend to his injuries. As he is unable to identify himself at this time, we would greatly appreciate it if you could come down and identify him for us" the voice from the phone said.

This was like music to your ears, you tried not to get your hopes up, but you just knew it was him. It had to be, you could feel it in your heart.

As you stood by the bed of the man, you fell to your knees and wept. He was far skinner, his skin pale and almost translucent, his hair tangled and dirty- but there was no doubt about it, that was your Adam.

"That's him! That's my baby! Oh my god, that's my Adam!" You sobbed, clutching into the police office for support. He looked happy for you.

...

After a few days, Adam woke up. He was by no means in good shape, but he was alert, he was safe, and he was asking for you. He'd had to speak to police before he could have any visitors, but they'd assured him that you had done a great deal to help them find him, and he was touched.

"I thought I was gonna die in that room.."

"You probably would have, if y/n hadn't tried to find you"

"No one else reported me?"

The cop shook his head solemnly.

"Damn... I gotta see her, i- I gotta thank her,  i-"

He rambled like this for a while, until he was assured that you were able to come visit him.

...

"Hey, sugar" Adam smiled cockily, despite how weak he was.

You approached the chair next to his bed and reached down to stroke his face lovingly.

"That didn't sound very ex boyfriend of you" You teased.

"Aw come onnnn, I nearly die and you still don't want me back?" He whined, giving you a playful pout.

You chuckled and kissed his forehead,

"I basically saved your life, don't get greedy"

Adam's eyes narrowed, and he looked uncertain, "wait.. are you saying you actually don't wanna get back together?"

You rolled your eyes and pinched his cheek,

"Of course not dummy, I just like watching you squirm"

Adam mustered all of his strength to lift his arms and place his hands on your cheeks, pulling your face towards his.

"You're such a bitch" he mumbled against your lips with a smile

"You're a bitch" you giggled back.

The playful teasing went on for a while, until you were sat in a love filled silence, just holding eachother's hands. Adam was the first to break the silence.

"I'm a changed man, you know, y/n"

"Huh?"

"While I was in that room, you were all I could think about. I kept thinking about all the times I hurt you and I knew I needed to make it right. I made a vow to myself that i was gonna get out of there, and I was gonna get you back... and I was gonna love you the way you deserve to be loved. I'm gonna do that, y/n. I'm gonna prove I deserve to be with you, even if it takes a lifetime... which it probably will now that you basically saved my life"

"Yeah, it's gonna be pretty difficult to level that playing field" you smiled jokingly.

"I mean it, y/n," Adam said, his voice serious, "I promise I'm going to devote the rest of my life to loving you, it's the least I could do".

And several happy years later, he's kept that promise.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

the idea of college!hockey!peter gets me everytime like he’s prolly a little of an asshole and so cockeyyyyy ahhhhh i want him to bully me into having sex with him

73

✰ college!hockey!peter parker x f!reader

✰ word count: 0.8k

✰ summary: why keep peter when he keeps giving you the asshole treatment? you know why, but you wouldn't dare say it out loud.

✰ warnings: language, peter is depicted as taller than the reader, a tease of smut but no actual.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main m.list ⋆ peter parker m.list

gif by @ddlovatosrps

You swore off coming to another one of Peter’s games, but here you were, sitting in the worn-down stands of your school’s hockey rink. The arena was packed as you tried to navigate your way to the seat that Peter saved for you, his practice jersey slung over the back of the plastic. 

peter🏒: 

i saved you a seat. my jersey is on it

you should wear it

When you received that text from him, you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the stupid smile that grew on your face. Peter’s always been a pain in your ass, so why couldn’t you push him away?

Peter’s team was entering the rink, causing an uproar from the home side. Making a few laps around the perimeter of the ice, your eyes caught the bold ‘73’ on the back of his jersey, matching yours. 

Little kids and other college girls flood the glass, holding signs and waving them around, hoping to catch their favorite player’s attention. You couldn’t help but notice quite a few of the posters having ‘HEY PARKER! CAN I HAVE A PUCK?’ drawn on in thick letters. Peter has been team captain for two years now, and his skill with a puck and a stick has been widely received. 

A few minutes pass before the game officially starts. You weren’t the biggest fan of hockey until you met Peter. He brought you to practice, and his games and made you watch every game of the professional league’s playoffs last season. And with every goal, he would always turn around to you and say, “I could totally do that by the way.” And every single time you would push his face away and laugh. At first, you thought he was joking just to be funny, but then you realized he was dead serious. 

This season really did prove that he could score at least two points each game, and he never failed to make you realize that. Tonight was no exception. 

5-1 was the final score when the third period ended, making everyone jump up in their seats. You slowly stood, clapping your hands while keeping your eye on Peter, a soft smile appearing on your lips at the sight of him celebrating with his teammates. After a few minutes, the team starts to head back into the locker room with Peter being the last in the line. Walking down to the glass, you meet him there. He smirks before flipping you off. “I told you so,” he yells through the glass. 

“I hate you,” you tell back, ignoring the growing crowd around you. The world around you seems to not exist when you are with Peter, it’s annoying. 

He begins to skate away before mouthing, “No, you don’t.” 

At the end of every game, you meet Peter outside where the door to the locker room leads. You’re usually surrounded by the team’s girlfriends waiting to celebrate their boyfriend’s win. And though you aren’t Peter’s girl, you still smile at the hugs and kisses the girls around you receive. 

As soon as Peter’s moppy brown hair and broad frame come through the door, your smile drops. He knew you’d be waiting here for him, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of you potentially being happy to see him. 

“Where’s my hug and kiss, (L/N)?” Peter’s deep and now scratchy voice floods your ears. 

Your arms cross in front of you as you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, his height drastically different from yours, “Yeah, you’re real funny, Parker.” 

His arm slings over your shoulder as he leads you to his car, his body still warm. He pops open his trunk, dropping his equipment inside before holding your face in both his hands, giving your cheeks a small squeeze before kissing your lips. “Don’t act so grumpy, buggy. We both know you want me to fuck you dumb on my cock,” he whispers against your lips. 

Your cheeks flush, and your body runs hot immediately. Releasing your eye contact with him, you look away, nervous, “Is that what you tell yourself to make you feel better?” 

His lips are so close to touching yours again, and you’re almost aching for his touch, but you won’t give yourself away. You can feel a huff of a laugh against your lips before he pulls away, “I don’t need to make myself feel better, I just want to make you feel good.” You’re frozen in place for a few seconds, not even noticing that Peter is already at the passenger door, holding it open for you, “You coming, or are you gonna stand there and look stupid?” 

You quickly make your way to the door, shoving his chest before entering his car. He slams the door once you get settled in.

 Peter fucking sucks, but why do I need him so bad?

✰ author's note: I LOVE HOCKEY PETER!!! sorry anon, i couldn't make him super mean because i love when he has a soft spot for the reader. thank you for sending in this ask!! if you want to aswell, my ask box is open! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed. ok, ily bye!!

[josephquinnswhore]

Hi 🌸

What about a fic where reader is walking with Pedro and they are at the airport but they get swarmed with paparazzi. Everyone wants to talk with Pedro so the reader falls and the paparazzi start to push her around and he freaks out trying to find her 😩☺️

Breaking Point - pedro pascal x female reader

Summary: pedro looses his shit after you get hurt from paparazzi.

Word Count: 2k

Content Warning: paparazzi being assholes, reader gets hurt, slight panic attack, Pedro losing his shit.

Note: I FUCKING LOVE YOU ANON. TRULY. Anyway I’m gunna source Pedro’s rage from that video of him at the airport where he’s frustrated but make it 100 times worse lol. I cant believe people are actually requesting my fics, I love you guys.

It’s no secret that Pedro spends a lot of time in LA when he’s not at home in New York, snaps of him plastered on the internet for the world to see; exposing his location within the day of him arriving. Privacy wasn’t a luxury you could afford, especially after his upcoming fame after his role as Joel Miller in the last of us, paparazzi just seemed to be everywhere you went, no matter if you were ordering a coffee, driving to a family members house or even going to the gym. Pedro was often apologetic about the lack of privacy and how intrusive the paparazzi could be, your life has changed drastically since being with Pedro. It was hard to acclimate to, being followed and having hundreds of photos of your face and personal life plastered on the internet and magazines worldwide. You had put your big girl pants on and learnt to deal with it, Pedro admired your resilience, even though the paparazzi were moderately tame up until today.

Today was one of those instances where you and Pedro were on your way to LA, a frequency that had become a fortnightly occurrence, the airport was nearly empty, a few people floating around, you try not to draw to much attention to yourselves regardless as you pull your luggage behind you, the few people that occupied the airport seemingly recognising Pedro despite the cap and sunglasses in an attempt to hide his face. He never minded the fans approaching him, in fact he loved it, as long as they were polite he would entertain them, what he didn’t need however was for someone to post online that he was in the airport, much against your luck that’s what happened when a particular fan approaches the both of you.

“Oh my god Pedro! Could we get a photo please, I’m such a huge fan!” A young girl asks him, his attempt of a disguise obviously failed, Pedro offers a polite smile, “yeah of course, thank you for your support.” You step to the side while she takes a selfie, not wanting to intrude on her moment, “I can totally take a picture for you if you like?” You offer kindly. The girl smiles and is trembling as she hands you her phone, you snap a picture of them together, Pedro wearing a genuine smile, his tired pose captured in the image on the girls iPhone.

You hand the iPhone back to her and she thanks you both, speed walking back to her friend that had been left by the seating area, showing her phone and seemingly posting it to the internet. Within minutes your phone is buzzing from a text notification, Lux sending you a screenshot of the post on Twitter from the girl, in her excited high she exposed your location to the world; worse off the paparazzi. You try to prepare yourself for the shit storm bound to happen.

“This isn’t good.” You mumble to yourself, a loud sigh leaves your lips that catches Pedro’s attention. “What’s wrong honey?” You simply turn your phone to him, he squints through his sunglasses and exhales loudly. “This is going to turn to shit.” He looks around the airport as you walk toward where you’ll be boarding your plane, about to stick your luggage on the belt carousel when you hear shouting and clamouring heading in your direction, that didn’t take long. Pedro turns your body away from the audience as to give you some privacy from the invasive images being snapped of you. He wished just once that the way he touched you would be kept private, he gentle hand on your back, his lips on your temple, nothing seemed sacred between you and Pedro despised it.

“Pedro, Pedro! Look here!”

“Please here look! Just one picture.”

“Someone move the girl out of the way.”

The paparazzi were screaming over each other, pushing and shoving their way closer to you with every second. Their desperation to get a new picture of Pedro outweighed any morals they had, if they had any at all. You struggle to make out their sentences and demands as they rush you, pushing you a few steps back, separating you from Pedro as they surround him in a half circle as they scream at him, each trying to gain his attention for their news report.

You begin to panic once you’re separated, never having death with paparazzi that act like this before, the noise and clamouring becomes too much to handle, it’s easy to become overstimulated when the screaming overlaps each other and the noise becomes havoc, you try to squeeze between the gaps to get back to Pedro, reaching out to him as you try to get his attention, to no avail. Pedro is polite in the way he’s shielding his eyes from the blinding flash as he calls your name, asking them to move out of the way so he can find you, unable to see you past the swarm of strangers. “Pedro!” You call out, voice breathless and strained as you panic, you’d never been around paparazzi like this before. “Please move out of the way so we can get on with our day.” Pedro pleas.

One man shoved past you harshly, seeing the gap you occupied in order to get the perfect picture of Pedro once he had taken his sunglasses off. You trip backwards at the force of his shoulder barging you, stumbling over your luggage that’s pulled tightly behind your legs and as if in slow motion, it takes a few seconds to register the pain in your head as it smacks into the floor as you fall onto the cold tile.

“Baby! Oh my god look at what you people have done! Move out of my way!” Pedro tries to shove his way past in an effort to get to you, seeing you being brutally shoved to the ground, groaning in pain set a fire inside of him.

You grunt in pain as you cradle your head, the area hot to the touch where it met the cold floor, the throbbing spreads to your ears leaving a ringing noise to squeal through them. “Oh fuck,” you mutter which comes out slurred, your own voice sounds unrecognisable, unable to stop the room as it spins around you, the dizziness sets a nausea in you that climbs from your stomach to your throat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people, have you got no dignity or respect?” Pedro snaps as he rushes towards you, seeing your face paler than normal and the pained look on your face as it scrunches. He kneels above you, your eyes seeing doubles as he comes into view. “Baby, are you okay?” His hand is cradling your head and one is waving in front of your eyes, you blink slowly, trying to gain a clearer view of your surroundings.

Pedro slowly helps you sit up, leaning against your luggage as the clicks of the camera are still shuddering throughout the ordeal, not caring that they’ve physically hurt you. Pedro’s face is red and a large vein in his neck and forehead begin bulging in his rage. “You fucking cockroaches, you did this to her. You can expect to hear from my lawyer for this stunt. Get that camera the fuck away from me.” Some of the men flinched, never seeing this side of Pedro. It was a first for you too; the indescribable rage he’d shown was a direct result of your injury at the hands of these people. The clicking and flashes of the camera finally stopped, your vertigo stops to a standstill and you’re brought back to your senses. “We’re sorry man, we just wanted some new pictures. I got a family to support you know.” The man who pushed you excused himself, the irritated tone didn’t go unnoticed, Pedro scoffs, “go and get a real fucking job. All you do is harass people it’s pathetic. Now get the fuck away from us before I call the police. You’re lucky I don’t beat your ass for this.”

“I’m sorry man, I can’t afford a lawsuit.” The man stutters as he realises Pedro is dead serious in his threat. Pedro helps you stand and you wobble on your feet, his arms hold you upright as he leads you away from the crowd. “I don’t give a fuck if you can afford it or not you spineless prick.”

“Come on baby, you need to get your head checked out.” The paparazzi that lingered snapped a few more shots of Pedro leading you to the front desk as they’re escorted out by security.

You’re sat down on a small chair, an EMT approaches you, kneeling down so you can see him.

“Hey, how’re you feeling? Heard you had a bit of a fall.” He starts, opening his medical pack as he observes you. “A fall? She was shoved by those heathens.”

“Its okay.” You turn to assure Pedro, but it was totally not fine, he just shakes his head at the way you’re still trying to make this out to be no big deal. “I think I’ll live. I still feel a little dizzy though.” The EMT takes out a torch, you blink harshly a few times as it blinds you, you try to adjust to the bright LED light. “Just follow this light for me. That’s it, now look up.” Your eyes follow the light lazily, seeing Pedro with a concerned expression on his face out of the corner of your eye, made you feel guilty for ruining his whole day.

“Your reaction is a bit sluggish. Just going to check your head now okay? Where does it hurt?” You nod and point to the area at the back of your head slightly to the left and wince as his gloved hands part your hair where the giant egg on your head was. Pedro’s hand sits on your knee, rubbing it to reassure and offer some support to you. The man gently prods the sore spot and you tense, holding your breath, a headache coming on at the sudden contact with the sore spot.

“It’s very possible you’ve got a concussion. I’d advise not getting on a flight until you’ve been cleared. It may take a few days.”

You sigh, “thank you for looking over me.”

“It’s no problem at all, look after yourselves,” the man farewells as he walks away. Your hands are aggressively rubbing your hands over your face in annoyance, you’ve just delayed Pedro’s flight and now you would have to stay home while he flies to LA for his interview.

“I’ll call a cab to get home, you should still go to LA. You can call me tonight once you land.” You offer weakly and Pedro frowns deeper, the stress lines on his face making him age a few years by the whole ordeal. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m leaving you here after that, concussion or not. I’m staying with you honey.”

Before you can protest Pedro hushes you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I can rebook the flight and reschedule the interview for next week. I need to be here to make sure you’re okay. Don’t ask me to leave without you.”

“Okay.” You accept which helps Pedro relax, his face red from where the stress lines had been a semi permanent fixture on his face. “Let’s get you home baby. Gotta make sure my girl is looked after.”

Pedro calls a cab outside the airport and helps you into the car, the taxi driver loads your luggage for you. “They’re going to point the narrative about you being awful. You know that right?” You look up at him through your lashes, Pedro scoffs, “let them, they can get fucked.”

He tucks your hair behind your ears and slips his fingers in between yours to hold your hand, a sincere look in his eyes, “no one fucks with my girl and gets away with it.”

[ghostfacd]

I CAN’T BE WHAT YOU NEED — LUKE HUGHES

— “STOP IT, STOP IT. YOU’RE BEING MEAN, LUKE.”

pairing; slytherin!luke x hufflepuff!fem!reader

summary; was this the end? you surely hope not, you were so sure luke hughes was the one. not just any boy, but the one. so why was he walking away from you right now? especially when you need him the most?

genre; angst, misunderstanding, both reader and luke get hurt, blackcat!bf luke, golden retriever!gf reader, mentioning of house rivalries, you kinda get an inside look into luke’s thinking, this one’s a long one so put on your seatbelt 🤗

✸ SLYTHERIN!LUKE MASTERLIST

part 2

Luke Hughes was a boy of many things. He was stubborn, cold, smart, athletic, and opinionated. But he was no idiot.

Of course he had heard what people said about the two of you, the most unexpected couple at Hogwarts yet. They’d raise their eyebrows whenever the two of you walked, talking in hushed whispers.

“Didn’t you hear? The Hughes boy is dating YN now, we have no chance! He’s scary as shit,”

“Now why on earth is YN with him? She’s so kind and bubbly and he’s just.. him.”

“He’s lucky he has Quidditch going for him, or else nobody would bat an eye at that snake.”

It used to not bother Luke. He knew he was better than them, call him a narcissist or whatever, but he knew it was true. Why would he get upset over some words spoken by idiots with a brain the size of a pea?

But ever since he started dating you, he started to question himself. Was he really better? Or did he only think that way because it was better than thinking he was a total loser?

Luke agreed with Marina when she sang “cause I feel like I’m the worst so I always act like I’m the best” because Luke truly felt like he was a total and complete loser, so he always acted like he was the best Slytherin to exist. Fake it till you make it, right?

Marina was definitely his favorite artist, there was no doubt in the world. And maybe The Smiths too. God, was he really that depressing?

“What are you listening to Lukey boy?” Jack asks as he swings his arm around Luke’s shoulder. “Whoa, you have gotten tall haven’t you?”

“Have you grown shorter?” Luke asks, pretending to gasp in surprise.

Jack hits him on the shoulder, rolling his eyes. “Very funny you punk. How are you and YN? I’ve been so busy with Quidditch that I haven’t been able to see you and Quinn at all.”

“We’re okay,” Luke shrugs, “I guess.”

“What do you mean you guess?”

“I don’t know Jack, is it stupid of me to be insecure?”

Jack stops in his tracks, making Luke stop as well. He turns to face his younger brother fully before giving him a frown.

“What? Of course it’s not stupid, Luke. What have those assholes been saying about you?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Luke sighs. “Do you really think I’m a cold asshole who has an egotistical mindset?”

“First of all, what the fuck is an egoistical mindset?”

“Oh,” Luke grins, “how do I dumb this down for you?”

“Shut up and tell me!”

“They’re basically saying I’m a self centered asshat who thinks way too highly of himself. They think I think I’m better than everyone else.”

“Well, do you think you’re better than everyone else?”

Luke wants to say no, but he doesn’t. Instead he says, “of course I think I’m better than everyone else.”

Jack finally starts walking again, patting the younger on the back, “hey, I’m proud of you little man. Your grades are great, you’re a terrific Slytherin seeker—although Gryffindor is way better by the way!—and you’ve really proved yourself to be a good boyfriend. You have every right to have the ‘egoistical mindset’ those people talk about.”

“I guess,” Luke says quietly, looking down at the ground. He doesn’t see you approaching out of your Herbology class with your partner, Rye Anderson.

“Stop saying I guess,” Jack whines, “anyway, your Hufflepuff is here.”

Luke’s mood brightens when he looks up to see you, but instantly drops when he sees your face light up as you talk to Rye.

What he doesn’t know is that Rye is actually gay, and that he’s literally asking about what he should get his boyfriend next week for their date.

“I’m thinking daisies? Is that too cliche?”

“Never cliche to get your man flowers,” you grin. “Luke always gets me flowers.”

“Yeah whatever, you guys are gross.”

You pretend to gasp offendedly, throwing a small playful punch to Rye’s side.

“Luke, don’t blow up,” Jack says slowly as he watches Luke’s face turn into one of jealousy and anger. He knew that look on his brother all too well. They had lived with each other their entire life up until now.

“Oh please,” Luke says as he starts making his way towards you and Rye, “I never blow up.”

This wasn’t entirely false, but Jack couldn’t stop the angry Slytherin now; he was too far from him. He decided to just watch it all unfold, because well, there hadn’t been any good drama at Hogwarts lately.

“Hi,” Luke introduces himself, towering over Rye and you. “I’m Luke, YN’s boyfriend, and you?”

“Rye,” Rye smirks, “and I’m gay Luke, so no need to get your pants in a twist.”

Well that made Luke totally embarrassed.

“Rye and I were just talking about what he should get his boyfriend next week for their date,” you explain, rubbing your boyfriend’s arm in reassurance. “Shall we go Lu?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles under his breath.

Rye tries to hold in his laugh, mainly because he doesn’t want you or Luke to kill him. He couldn’t believe a tall and scary Slytherin such as Luke was suddenly all quiet and shy when he spoke to you. It was a whole new side of the boy that Rye did not know could even exist in this universe.

“Bye Rye!” You say, hooking your arm to your boyfriend’s as you walk off to his dorm.

“Bye YN! Oh, and bye Luke!”

Luke only waves shortly, not even bothering to turn around to the boy.

“That was embarrassing,” he says as soon as he situates himself on his bed. “Shit, that was really embarrassing.”

“It’s okay Lukey,” you say, taking off your sweater and throwing it somewhere in his room.

You had always left your stuff at his place, which was why when his friends came over, they’d see little hints of yellow lingering in the room.

“No, it’s not.” Luke rubs his face, stressed. “It’s like everything I do is embarrassing or just absolute shit.”

“Whoa, where is this coming from baby?” You ask, running your hands through his curls.

“Why are you even with me? We’re completely different. You’re in Hufflepuff and I’m in Slytherin, our houses don’t even like each other.”

“I’m with you because I love you,” you frown, eyes meeting his with so much sincerity that it makes Luke want to curl up in a ball and bawl. “I don’t care about what our stupid houses think. I told you this when I asked you to go to Hogsmeade with me for the first time, remember Lu?”

He did remember. How could he not? You had suddenly popped up into his life that one day after his game with Gryffindor and became the most important person to him in the blink of an eye.

“I don’t want to be that public anymore,” Luke mumbles. “Can we do less of the whole PDA thing?”

Your heart almost drops, worrying about Luke and your relationship. “If that’s what you want Lu, then of course.”

Luke nods. It would be the best for you two to have a little distance between each other. He mainly wanted to protect you from what everybody was saying, but partly because he couldn’t handle their comments. He had loved you so much, and for them to say that he didn’t deserve you—or that you were too good for him fucking hurt like a bitch.

The next two weeks went by like a drag for both you and Luke. The two of you had barely hung out, Luke always making the same excuse of having extra Quidditch practice, and you not questioning him because you didn’t want to start a fight.

The Yule Ball was coming up, and all your friends had been asked by their boyfriends or crushes. It was just you and Luke left.

He had asked you to meet him by the lake at night. Students were prohibited to go out by themselves at such a late hour, but you and Luke were always careful.

He had asked you with a small poster, one that said, “Oh my god look at that face, you look like my next Yule date,” with the back of the poster saying “YULE BALL?”

It was a reference to one of Taylor Swift’s songs, Blank Space; a muggle song that you had been listening to on repeat that Luke knew would be perfect for the ask.

You of course squealed quietly, not wanting to disrupt the sleeping professors and students. You said yes, jumping into Luke’s arms. For the first time in those 2 weeks, the two of you held each other like it would be the last time you would.

It was.

During the Yule Ball, you had entered with Luke, but couldn’t find the tall curly haired Slytherin anywhere after a few minutes.

You decided to talk to Jamie, another Hufflepuff in your year who you were pretty close to.

Luke, who was all of a sudden sweating at the amount of people in the room had gone off to take a drink of water. He didn’t know why he felt this way; you had looked so pretty in your gown and he was one of the luckiest men in the world getting to escort you and be your date. So why did he feel this way? It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy parties. He liked looking at people go reckless and laugh knowing that it would never be him, and he enjoyed the drinks that were offered.

Which was probably why he was downing a few shots right after his glass of water. He figured alcohol will give him a confidence boost, but it only made him feel worse and gain a headache.

Great, he thinks. It was time to find you.

“YN?” He calls as he pushes through the large crowd of people. He spots you talking to another guy, Jamie, who was also a Hufflepuff.

He almost crushed the cup in his hands when he sees you giggle, throwing your head back as you push Jamie jokingly.

No, he thinks. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself and go over to you angrily like he did with Rye.

Instead, he throws his cup at some random direction, hitting a couple who broke apart from their kiss to yell curses at him. He doesn’t care, all he wants is just to get out of this place and eat his feelings away in his dorm with a Disney movie playing in the background.

“Hey Jamie, I’ll be back, I think I just saw Luke leave,” you say to your friend, frowning as you make your way towards where Luke went off.

“Go get your man sis!”

When you finally see Luke in your vision, you yell out to him. “Lu! Wait up!”

He only walks faster.

“Lu—wait!”

You’re out of breath by the time you finally grab his hand, pulling him back to you. “Lu, why didn’t you stop when I told you to?”

Luke stays quiet, his back facing you.

“Lu, can you at least please face me?”

He finally does, staring at you with his red eyes.

“Oh Lu, what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “YN, this isn’t going to work.”

He never calls you YN. It had always been baby, lovely, or even lovie. But never just your name by itself.

“What do you mean Lukey? What’s not gonna work?”

Luke hates how patient and kind you’re being with him. He hates it. Why can’t you just get upset at him? Make this easier for the both of you?

“I mean us. We aren’t going to work,” he takes a sharp inhale, exhaling shakily, “we’re from opposite houses, and everybody says we don’t belong with each other. Our relationship is bound to fail,”

It was as if your boyfriend was suddenly speaking a foreign language. Why was he suddenly saying this? Especially during the Yule Ball? The one night that you two were supposed to be happy together, dancing under the stars.

“Why do you care so much about what they think Luke?” You say, voice quivering from how much you wanted to sob right now, “I told you many times that I don’t—”

“I care!” Luke shouts. He realizes how loud he is the second his words get out. “I care,” he repeats, this time so quiet that if you weren’t in close proximity, you wouldn’t have heard him.

“But you shouldn’t. This is our relationship Luke, not anyone else’s, and especially not those low lives who have nothing else to do but to judge us without even knowing you.”

“Not everybody can be oblivious and carefree like you YN,”

You shake your head. “Stop it, stop it. You’re being mean, Luke.”

This burns through Luke’s chest like wildfire. Sure he’s been called an asshole, even a conceited fuck by a couple of mad Gryffindors after a game, but never mean. And especially never from you.

“I can’t be what you need,” Luke cries. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so emotional. He was never the one to let his emotions get the best of him—his face always set to a blank expression. “They’re right. Aren’t you gonna be sick of having such a boring boyfriend? You deserve so much better. You deserve somebody who isn’t the exact opposite of you, you deserve so much more than me.”

“But I don’t want more,” you now sob, cupping Luke’s face into your hands, “I want you Luke.”

He shakes his head once again, more tears streaming down his face. “It won’t work. Let’s save ourselves the heartbreak and just end it now.”

“No,” you say, hands shaking. “No, I won’t let you end our relationship just because of them.”

“I’m not giving you a choice,” Luke backs away from you, your heart aching at the sudden loss of touch.

“Will you be back?”

“I don’t know,”

He leaves you outside in the dark, sobbing as you fall to your knees, entire body giving out.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” a familiar voice coos as he wraps his arm around your shaking figure. “It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t okay. You had just lost Luke, the boy who you were sure would be the love of your life until you died.

“Come inside YN, it’s raining.” Jack takes off his coat to place over you, your lips trembling as the two of you make your way back into the halls. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

You didn’t even know where to start.