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romanreignsbae · 6 months ago

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A Paradise in Paradise💗 🌊☀️

SMUT❗️Warnings: praise kink, daddy kink, unprotected p in v, Oral (f receiving) Otherwise just fluff!💕

As Y/n laid on her lounge chair, she finally felt a sense of peace wash over her. Finally her and her husband Joe had some alone times to themselves.

Since Joe was taking a break after his most recent WrestleMania loss to Cody Rhodes, he decided it was the perfect opportunity to take his girl on a nice vacation. But Joe being himself always went above and beyond with it. He rented out a whole private island in Hawaii, just for him and his wife. He almost himself thought he did too much, but the smile it brought to his beautiful wife’s face made it all worth it.

Y/n was reading her novel she chose for this trip while tanning peacefully. “Baby! Come on, let’s go in the water!” her husband shouted.

Y/n shot up from her chair and made her way through the sand to him. “There you are! I missed you!” Joe told her dramatically while planting kisses all over her face.

She let out a giggle and cuddled into his chest. "Let’s go in the water!” she screamed out excitedly. She’d been dying to go to the beach ever since he announced this trip.

He threw her over his shoulder and sprinted towards the water. “Ah! Put me down!” Y/n squealed as they got closer to the water. The couple landed into the teal beach water with one big splash. They rose from the water at the same time and wrapped each other’s arms around one another.

After some time of messing around in the water they decided to head back to their luxurious villa. “Look at my tan lines! I feel like a new person!” Y/n told Joe while moving her bikini strap to show him her new tan lines. “You look beautiful as ever” he told her. She blushed. Her husband always had a way with words.

The couple took a shower, and decided to get ready for the dinner Joe had planned out. Y/n exited the bathroom wearing a beautiful silky dress Joe had picked out just for her. “Woooo damn baby, are you cinderella, cause that dress gon be gone at midnight!” Joe said. Y/n laughed at her husband’s corniness. But she had to admit that was a good one.

“You look so beautiful too handsome.” Joe felt his cheeks heating up. Even though he was the talker in their relationship whenever his wife threw a compliment his way, he always felt shy about it. Y/n loved how she could make him shy too though.

The couple shared a beautiful Hawaiian themed dish together for dinner, and then headed back to the beach for a late night walk. While walking together quietly in the sand, Joe decided to spike some conversation. “Babyyy it’s almost midnight, I get to take that dress off you soon..” Joe said whispered to her, while purposely brushing his lips against her ear. He felt her skin grow goosebumps on it. Y/n felt a wave of neediness and desire for him surge through her body.

“Mmm sure..let’s just go back now..” Y/n told him. His eyes lit up excitedly while picking her bridal style and heading back to their villa.

Once they got back Joe placed her on the corner of their king sized bed, and slowly began taking her low sandal heels off. “Hurry up” Y/n pleaded him. Joe let out a chuckle at her sudden neediness. “Ok babydoll chill.”

Once he successfully took off her heels he brought her up from the bed and began unzipping her dress. “Oh my days! I swear, if you don’t hurry up!” Y/n complained. “Talk one more time without permission and you ain’t gettin nun tonight” Joe told her threateningly. Y/n let out a small sigh knowing she couldn’t fight him on this.

After she was fully undressed he laid her down gently on her back, back onto their bed. He slowly began undressing himself making Y/n more and more inpatient.

Finally after what felt like an entirety for y/n, he was finally all undressed. He crawled up onto Y/n and moved in for a passionate kiss.

Their tongues both fought for dominance, and Joe won. He removed himself from her lips and ran his thumb over her puffy bottom lip. He placed one more peck on her lips before travelling down towards her neck. He nibbled at her sweet spot causing a small moan to leave her lips. She felt him smirk at the sound.

His kisses traveled down towards her chest where he took one of her breasts and massaged it thoroughly. She let out a sigh at the motion of his hands. He brought his face down to her breast where he brought her nipple into his mouth. He toyed around with it, slightly sucking, and biting down. He felt her hips starting roll against his to create friction. “Don’t try anythin yet you needly little slut. My little slut.” he told her roughly. “Ima take my time wit you.” She whimpered with impatience.

His kisses traveled from her breasts, down her stomach, and he pulled away. Avoiding the spot she needed his mouth most. “Please daddy” she whimpered. “Hmm I don’t know, you’ve been extra impatient today..” he teased her. “I promise i’ll be so good daddy just- please” she begged. Without warning he dove right into her pussy causing a loud moan to escape her lips.

He ate her like a starved man and purposely sucked extra hard on her sensitive bundle of nerves. After a few minutes a familiar feeling began to build up in her tummy. “D-daddy i’m gonna-” she tried to communicate but it was difficult when he was devouring her. He hummed, sending vibrations to go through her body. After one last suck on her clit she came undone. He licked every last bit of her essence and finally pulled away. “T-thank you daddy” she said shakily as she was still recovering from her earth shattering orgasm.

“Your welcome sweetheart, ya better be good for daddy now” he said to her. She nodded her heard reassuringly at his words. Joe stroked himself a few times before lining himself up with her entrance. He pushed in slowly causing a loud groan to leave his lips. Y/n gasped in pain and pleasure at the sudden fullness. He knew he has to take it slow with her. The size god blessed him with wasn’t something he could just slam into her. He looked down to see tears filling her eyes. “Hey, hey. Baby you okay?” he asked her. He would never wanna hurt his beautiful wife. She nodded her head. “Yeah just feels so big” she said softly while putting on a soft smile for him.

After staying still for a minute Y/n spoke up. “Baby, you can move now.” With one final look at his wife for reassurance Joe pushed forward. “Pussy’s all mine. All mine.” Both of them moaned loudly. “All yours daddy!” she chanted. When they made love they couldn’t help themselves from the noises that came out of their mouths. “You feel so fuckin good baby.” Joe thrusted in and out of her at a steady pace until he felt her squeeze around him. He knew her body in and out and that meant she was close. “You gonna cum baby?” he asked her. “Yes!” she moaned. “Me too, hold up.”

He reached down and rubbed her clit and that was it. Her body starting shaking and with one more thrust he released himself into her, filling her up. He let her orgasm ride out and then he rolled off of her and pulled her into his chest. “You okay princes? Need anything?” he asked in a concerned tone. “No i’m okay I just wanna get some sleep” she told him in a hoarse tone. “Okay baby” he told her before pressing a soft kiss to her temple. He made sure she was in a deep sleep before he fell into his own.

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mythica-ithaca · 5 months ago

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the fact that I see some of y'all posting more about how important it is to vote for Biden than you ever have about Palestine just shows that you fucking "vote blue no matter who" people genuinely don't give a fuck about anyone but yourselves.

you only choose to speak up when YOUR hypothetical rights are threatened. you love to fear monger about how much hypothetically worse it would be under trump than acknowledge the actual atrocities that Biden is committing and condoning every single day. how exactly is he the "lesser" of two evils for?

do any of you actually look at the images coming out of gaza, or are you too fucking ~triggered~ to fully acknowledge other peoples suffering rather than your own. have you seen the video that came out recently of the little boy whose brain is exposed, about to be laid next to his dead family members, only to twitch and seize in his fathers arms as he screams and runs in horror to find a doctor, because his son is alive. his brain is literally falling out of his skull but he is still alive. that is one brief example of the most horrific shit you've ever seen in your life coming out daily for almost a year. how on this earth can you watch that and possibly claim that Biden is in any way shape or form "less" evil.

instead of demanding that the dnc force a different candidate, you're trying to guilt trip people who have actually seen the mutilated bodies of children on their timelines every single day and watched the press briefings of bidens administration denying genocide and defending Israel at the expense of literally everything else for the last 8 months, into voting for a man who supports it 100% and has not and will not be convinced otherwise.

this is where allowing them to push widely unpopular and centrist candidates has gotten us. it didn't work with Hillary in 2016. it BARELY worked in 2020. and hate to break it to you, but its probably not going to work again. so congrats. your "vote blue no matter who" rhetoric has got them thinking that they can push the most right leaning liberals on us and think that we'll vote for them just because they're in a blue tie instead of a red one.

if you care about democracy like you say you do, then the Democrats should be fucking TERRIFIED that you won't vote for them if they don't deliver. not constantly reassured that they can commit literal fucking genocide and still get your votes if they dangle abortion rights over your heads. you realize they see those posts too right? the ones that say "Yes! protest vote in the primary but make sure to actually vote for the guy in the general!!" like. you are literally telling them how performative your activism is.

if every election at this point is the one where democracy is on the line then we are already fucked. if they don't get it through their heads now that we will not support this shit, then every election to come will be between a fascist and a fascist who cares slightly less about whether gay people get married or not. but that's all you care about right? as long as your domestic policy is in your favor then the rest of the world can suffer at your tax dollars.

this isn't about morality voting. this is about recognizing that there is not actually a "lesser" of two evils in this situation, just because you think that the causes that you personally care about will be less affected one way or the other. because what if it was abortion rights? what catholic Joe Biden was firmly against abortion and was threatening to ban it completely and throw anyone getting or giving one in prison for murder. what if it was videos of lgbt people being slaughtered coming out every single day for a year. genuinely fucking ask yourself if you'd still be saying "vote blue no matter who" and that he's the "lesser" of two evils.

vote for whoever the fuck you want. and I do genuinely urge you to vote for the most progressive candidate you can for the house and senate and your local elections. but for the love of god, stop trying to convince people that there is, in any sense of the word, a "Lesser" evil in this situation. stop trying to absolve yourselves of the fact that you are CHOOSING evil. it's genuinely sick.

#politics #us politics #vote blue no matter who #fuck that phrase and everyone who uses it

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goldfades · 8 days ago

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I DON'T WANT YOU LIKE A BEST FRIEND───JOE BURROW

request: Can you write a joe burrow one shot about so high school 🥰🥰 Or if you’ve already done that, then the song dress

ev's notes: this was supposed to be a blurb. keyword: supposed to. i got a bit carried away, but how can you not when it comes to taylor? also, we all love LSU joe

The first time you saw Joe Burrow, he was standing on the edge of a practice field, helmet in hand, a picture of quiet confidence. His buzzcut was sharp enough to catch the late Louisiana sun, and you remember thinking he looked like the kind of guy who had his entire life planned out. It was almost intimidating how effortless he made everything seem—throwing perfect spirals, cracking jokes in the locker room, balancing the weight of a team on his shoulders. But then, somehow, you found yourself next to him during a random group project in Sports Management 201, and everything changed.

You didn’t become best friends overnight. Joe wasn’t exactly the “overshare everything in one go” type, and you, well, you had walls of your own. But there was an ease between you, the kind that turned study sessions into late-night deep dives about life and childhood and everything in between. By the time sophomore year rolled around, you were inseparable. You’d sit on the floor of his apartment during game weekends, surrounded by a haze of pizza boxes and team gear, and think, This is it. This is my person.

But somewhere along the way, the easy edges of your friendship began to blur. Maybe it was the way Joe looked at you during one of those low-stakes nights, his gaze lingering just a little too long. Or maybe it was the time you patched him up after a particularly brutal hit on the field—his voice low and rough as he muttered, “What would I do without you?” Either way, the shift was small but seismic, like an earthquake rumbling beneath your feet before you even realized it was happening.

You couldn’t pinpoint when you started noticing the details. The golden flecks in his otherwise blue eyes, the way his laugh hitched just slightly when he found something truly funny, or the way his voice softened when he said your name. You tried to ignore it at first, chalking it up to some misplaced admiration for your best friend, but the feelings were stubborn, refusing to be tucked away neatly. They buzzed under your skin, electric and impossible to ignore, leaving you breathless whenever he was near.

And then there was the dress. A stupid, impulsive decision born out of frustration and hope, hanging in your closet like a secret you weren’t ready to admit. You’d told yourself you bought it because you deserved something new, something fun. But deep down, you knew the truth.

You weren’t supposed to want him like this. You were supposed to be his confidante, his teammate, his best friend. But every lingering glance, every accidental brush of hands, every inside joke that felt too personal—it all built up, layering itself into something you couldn’t unravel even if you tried. And now, sitting in the dim glow of your shared favorite bar, watching him laugh at something trivial, you wonder if he feels it too.

If he notices the way you can’t quite meet his eyes for too long. If he knows that every smile he sends your way makes your chest tighten. If he realizes that every secret moment you’ve shared has carved itself into your memory like a golden tattoo you’ll never erase.

You don’t want him like a best friend. Not anymore.

The bass from the speakers thrums through the walls of the house, rattling the beer bottles on every flat surface. The air smells like spilled alcohol, cheap cologne, and too many bodies crammed into one space. It's chaos, but the best kind, the kind you’ve come to associate with game days at LSU—sweaty, celebratory, and electric. Tonight, the Tigers pulled off a win that had everyone on their feet, screaming until their voices cracked, and the party is nothing short of a victory lap.

You’re deep in a circle of friends, the buzz of alcohol warming your veins and making you laugh harder than you have in weeks. The strain of classes, late nights, and endless football schedules has melted away, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself relax. Someone hands you a drink—something neon and probably terrible—but you take it anyway, raising it in a toast to nothing and everything. It feels good to let loose, to drown out the noise in your head with the noise of the crowd.

And then you see him.

Joe is across the room, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like he owns the place. His LSU cap is turned backward, and his smile is as easy and devastating as ever. You can tell he’s in his element, surrounded by teammates and admirers, his laugh cutting through the din of the party. You feel it in your chest like a physical thing, a pull you’ve never been able to explain but have stopped trying to fight.

But it’s not just Joe that catches your attention. It’s the girl next to him.

She’s gorgeous, the kind of gorgeous that turns heads and stops conversations. She’s leaning in close, her perfectly manicured hand resting on his arm, saying something that makes him laugh. Not just any laugh—the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes, the kind you thought was reserved for the two of you. Your stomach twists, sharp and sudden, like you’ve just swallowed something bitter.

You try to look away, to focus on anything else—the half-empty drinks in front of you, the sticky floor beneath your shoes, the laughter of your friends—but your gaze keeps drifting back, helplessly tethered to the sight of them. She’s laughing now, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and Joe’s watching her like she’s the only person in the room.

The nausea hits you like a wave. It’s not subtle, not something you can breathe through and ignore. It rises quickly, making your throat tighten and your head spin. You set your drink down on the nearest surface, ignoring the shouts of your friends as you mumble something about needing a break.

The hallway to the bathroom feels like a mile long, each step heavy and unsteady. The crowd thins as you move away from the main party, the noise dulling to a low hum. You push open the bathroom door and lock it behind you, gripping the sink to steady yourself. The fluorescent light overhead is harsh, making everything feel too bright, too real.

You glance up at the mirror, and there it is: the blue dress.

You bought it on a whim, a little too expensive for your budget but too perfect to leave behind. Joe had told you once, in passing, that blue was your color. It had been a throwaway comment, something he probably didn’t even remember, but it had stuck with you. When you saw the dress, you thought of him, of the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, of the way he said your name like it was something special. You’d wanted to impress him, to feel like you could belong in the world he so effortlessly ruled.

Now, staring at your reflection, the dress feels like a cruel joke. The silky fabric clings to you in all the right places, the color vibrant against your skin, but it doesn’t matter. Not when Joe is out there, smiling at someone else like she’s the only thing that matters.

Your hands grip the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white. The nausea is still there, but now it’s tangled with something else—anger, humiliation, heartbreak. It’s overwhelming, and for a moment, you think you might actually cry. But you don’t. You can’t. Not here, not now.

You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to stand up straighter. The dress still looks good, you think, even if it feels tainted now. You smooth the fabric down with trembling hands, telling yourself that it doesn’t matter, that Joe doesn’t matter. But deep down, you know it’s a lie.

He’s always mattered.

You take another deep breath, the kind that feels like it’s dragging through every nerve in your body, and push yourself away from the sink. The girl in the mirror stares back at you, her lips pressed into a determined line, her eyes just a little glassy. Maybe from the drink. Maybe not. Either way, you’re done hiding in this bathroom like a cliché in some bad movie.

Joe can talk to whoever he wants. He’s not yours. He never has been. But you? You’re not going to let one moment ruin your night. Not when the music is still pumping, your friends are still laughing, and—let’s be honest—you’re in a frat house. There are plenty of boys here who would love to talk to a girl like you, especially in this dress.

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips, small but defiant, as you fix your hair and smooth your dress one last time. If Joe wants to waste his night with someone else, fine. You have no shortage of options.

The noise of the party hits you the moment you step back into the hallway, a tidal wave of music and laughter and the unmistakable sound of someone shouting “chug, chug, chug!” You weave your way through the crowd, ignoring the tightness in your chest when you pass the kitchen and see him still standing there, leaning closer to that girl. Instead, you head straight for the living room, where the crowd is thick, the lights are dim, and the music feels like it’s coming from inside your chest.

You position yourself near the edge of the dance floor, close enough to seem approachable but not so close that you’re desperate. It doesn’t take long. It never does at a frat party, especially when you’re wearing a dress like this one.

The first guy approaches within minutes. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and definitely a little drunk. His grin is lopsided as he leans in, yelling over the music. “Hey! You’re way too cute to be standing here by yourself. What’s your name?”

You force a smile, polite but not overly enthusiastic. “Thanks. I’m just waiting for my friends.”

He doesn’t take the hint. “Well, they’re not here right now, are they?” He takes a step closer, the smell of beer and sweat rolling off him in waves. “Lucky me.”

You laugh awkwardly, trying to keep some space between you. He’s not bad-looking, you’ll give him that, but there’s something about the way his eyes linger on you that makes your skin crawl. It’s like he’s not looking at you, but at the dress, the shape of your body, the idea of what you might let him get away with. It’s unsettling, and the longer he talks, the more you want to disappear.

“So,” he says, leaning in even closer, “you here with anyone? Or are you single tonight?”

You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. Normally, you’d have brushed this guy off by now, forced a polite smile and ducked away before things got too awkward. But tonight isn’t normal. Tonight, you’re wearing this stupid blue dress for a boy who doesn’t even notice you’re alive, who’s too busy laughing with someone else to care that you’re here, trying not to drown in your feelings. And maybe it’s the alcohol humming in your veins, or maybe it’s the weight of everything pressing down on your chest, but you don’t brush him off.

Instead, you tilt your head and smile, the kind of smile you’ve never given to anyone but Joe. “Single.”

His grin widens, and he takes another step closer, his hand finding your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It feels wrong and right all at once—wrong because he’s not Joe, but right because at least someone is looking at you like you matter. His voice is low, almost a murmur now. “Lucky me.”

You laugh, a sound that feels foreign to your own ears, and let him guide you further into the crowd, where the music is loud enough to drown out your thoughts. His hands are confident but not pushy, and when he leans down, his lips brushing against yours, you don’t stop him.

You kiss him back. At first, it’s awkward, more about the motion than any real feeling, but as the seconds pass, you give in, letting the alcohol and the haze of the moment carry you. His hands slide down to your hips, pulling you closer, and you let him. You let him because it’s easier than admitting that the only person you really want to be kissing doesn’t want you back.

You’re not sure how long it lasts—minutes, maybe hours—but the world blurs into a mess of noise and heat, and you lose yourself in it. You don’t notice the weight of another gaze until it’s too late.

“[Your Name].”

Your name isn’t loud, but it cuts through everything like a knife. The music, the chatter, the blood pounding in your ears—all of it fades the second you hear his voice. Joe’s voice.

You pull back from the guy, your head spinning as you turn to find Joe standing a few feet away. His cap is gone now, his hair slightly mussed, and his expression is unreadable. But his eyes—those blue eyes you’ve memorized in a thousand different shades—are filled with something you can only describe as hurt. It hits you like a punch to the gut.

“Joe,” you manage, your voice shaky, but he doesn’t respond right away. He just looks at you, his jaw tight, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

You barely hear him. Your focus is locked on Joe, on the way his shoulders tense and his gaze flickers between you and the guy. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet but razor-sharp, like he’s trying to keep something dangerous from slipping out. “Didn’t realize you were… busy.”

The guy behind you shifts awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Uh, I didn’t—”

“She’s drunk,” Joe cuts him off, his tone flat but laced with something that feels too heavy, too sharp to be just irritation. His eyes don’t leave yours, even as he continues, his jaw tight. “You know that, right?”

The words hit you like a slap, and your stomach twists in both anger and embarrassment. You straighten up, the haze of alcohol doing little to dull the heat that creeps up your neck. “Joe, I’m fine. Don’t—”

“No, you’re not,” he snaps, his attention finally shifting to the guy, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else right now. “Get lost.”

“Hey, man, I didn’t mean any harm,” the guy says, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “She seemed into it.”

“Yeah, well, she’s not,” Joe bites back, taking a step forward. There’s a warning in his voice, low and simmering, and the guy takes the hint, backing away with a muttered excuse before disappearing into the crowd.

You whip around to face Joe, your chest heaving. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem?” His laugh is bitter, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you. “What are you even doing, [Your Name]? You’re drunk. And you’re letting some random guy—”

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you interrupt, your voice rising to match his. The heat in your face isn’t just from the alcohol anymore; it’s from the way he’s looking at you, like you’re some reckless child who needs saving. “I’m not a kid, Joe. I don’t need you to swoop in and play hero.”

His hands curl into fists at his sides, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just stares at you like he’s trying to figure out what to do next. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter but no less intense. “You don’t see it, do you? The way guys like that look at you. They don’t care about you, [Your Name]. They just see an easy target.”

You flinch at his words, the sting of them sharper than you expect. “You don’t get to decide what I do or who I talk to, Joe. You don’t own me.”

“Damn it, I’m trying to protect you!” His voice cracks slightly, the frustration and something else—something softer, almost desperate—breaking through. “Do you have any idea how bad this could’ve gone? What if I hadn’t been here?”

“I didn’t ask you to save me!” Your voice is shaking now, the emotion bubbling up faster than you can contain it. “You think you’re protecting me, but all you’re doing is acting like you know better than I do.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the weight of the argument hanging heavy between you. Around you, the party continues, oblivious to the storm brewing in this corner of the room.

Joe runs a hand through his hair, his expression shifting into something you can’t quite read. Hurt? Anger? Both? “You don’t get it,” he says finally, his voice low. “You never get it.”

“Then explain it to me,” you shoot back, your own voice raw now. “Because all I see is you barging in and making me feel like some helpless idiot.”

His jaw clenches, his hands flexing like he’s holding back something volcanic. When he finally moves, it’s not to storm off—it’s to step closer, his hand wrapping around your arm with just enough pressure to make you pause, though not enough to hurt. His grip is warm and steady, grounding in a way that feels infuriating right now.

“That’s enough,” he says, his voice low but firm. There’s no anger in it, no edge, just a quiet certainty that only makes you bristle more. “You’ve had enough for tonight.”

You yank your arm back, but his hold doesn’t falter. “I’m fine, Joe,” you snap, your voice sharp and defensive. The alcohol in your veins has burned away just enough to leave you teetering on the edge of indignation. “I don’t need you babysitting me.”

He doesn’t respond, his eyes meeting yours with a calm intensity that only fuels your frustration. “Let me go,” you demand, your voice rising. “Seriously, Joe. You can’t just decide—”

“You’re drunk,” he cuts in quietly, his tone unshakable, almost maddeningly patient. “And this isn’t you.”

Your stomach twists, the words hitting a nerve you didn’t realize was exposed. “Oh, so now you’re the expert on me?” you fire back, your voice trembling slightly as you try to pull away again. “You don’t get to tell me who I am or what I can do. I’m not some little kid you need to take care of!”

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t yell, doesn’t even argue. He just lets you rail against him, his expression remaining infuriatingly steady as he starts guiding you through the crowd, his hand never leaving your arm. You’re too angry to notice the way people glance your way, their conversations pausing as they watch Joe Burrow, the golden boy of LSU, calmly escort you out of the frat house like it’s a routine play he’s run a hundred times before.

“Joe, let me go!” you yell again, louder this time, but your voice bounces off the walls of the crowded room and fades into the noise of the party. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back.

By the time you’re outside, the cool night air hits you like a slap, the contrast between the crisp breeze and the stuffy warmth of the party jarring enough to momentarily stall your protests. Joe finally lets go of your arm but stands in front of you, his broad frame blocking the house and everyone in it from view.

You glare at him, crossing your arms as you try to steady your breathing. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem?” he echoes, his voice still calm, though there’s a hint of something sharper underneath. “My problem is watching you let some random guy take advantage of you because you’ve had too much to drink. My problem is knowing you’re going to regret this in the morning.”

“And you think dragging me out of there like I’m some damsel in distress is going to fix that?” you snap, your chest heaving with the force of your words. “You don’t get to control me, Joe!”

“I’m not trying to control you,” he says, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” you demand, throwing your hands up. “From having fun? From making my own choices?”

“From getting hurt,” he says, and the words are so soft, so raw, that they stop you in your tracks. For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, the anger in your chest giving way to something heavier, something harder to ignore.

His eyes meet yours, and for the first time tonight, you see the cracks in his calm façade. There’s something unsteady in the way he’s looking at you, like he’s balancing on a knife’s edge, trying not to fall. “I care about you, okay? More than I probably should. So yeah, maybe I overstepped, but I’m not going to stand there and watch you make decisions that aren’t you, not when I know you’re going to hate yourself for it tomorrow.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, heavy and unrelenting. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Because for all your anger, all your frustration, there’s a part of you that knows he’s right. And it terrifies you.

Joe takes a step back, running a hand through his hair as he exhales slowly, like he’s trying to steady himself. “If you want to go back in there, I won’t stop you. But I had to try.”

He turns to leave, his shoulders tense, and for the first time tonight, you feel the weight of everything crashing down all at once.

You watch him for a second, the silence stretching between you, thick and tangled with everything unsaid. The words you want to say sit at the back of your throat, but they won’t come. Instead, you take a deep breath, the cold air doing little to cool the fire in your chest, and you follow him.

Joe’s footsteps are steady and purposeful, like he’s not even thinking about the fact that you’re trailing behind him, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to be mad at him anymore. Your anger dissipates in the quiet of the night, swallowed up by the calm that surrounds you both. The sounds of the party fade away as you walk down the street toward your apartment, the rhythmic tap of your heels on the sidewalk oddly soothing.

You keep your gaze fixed ahead, not meeting his eyes. For once, the noise in your head is quieter than the pounding of your heart, but still, you can’t shake the nagging feeling that something's missing.

You finally glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His face is shadowed in the streetlights, but you can still make out the tight line of his jaw, the furrow in his brow. He doesn’t look at you, his focus trained straight ahead, and for some reason, it makes your chest ache.

Neither of you speaks, the tension between you thick but not unbearable. It’s the kind of silence that feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to shift, for someone to break. But you don’t. Not yet.

By the time you reach your apartment door, the quiet feels heavier than the air itself. You fumble with your keys for a moment, your fingers trembling just enough to make it harder than usual to find the right one.

"Here," Joe says, his voice low, and you glance up just in time to see him stepping forward, his hand brushing against yours as he takes the keys from you. He unlocks the door in a smooth motion, and before you can even think to thank him, he speaks again.

“I—”

“You looked good tonight,” he says, cutting you off softly. His voice is steady, but there’s something in it that makes your stomach flip, an edge of vulnerability you weren’t expecting. His eyes meet yours then, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “The dress. I liked it.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and it feels like the ground beneath you shifts, like the world tilts on its axis and sets you spinning. You stare at him, your heart beating too fast, and then—without warning—you’re smiling.

It’s not forced or awkward. It’s real, stretching across your face in a way that makes the weight in your chest lift just a little. And then he’s smiling too, that familiar grin that’s been burned into your memory for years, and suddenly, everything feels lighter.

“Thanks,” you manage, your voice quieter now, softer. You glance down at the fabric of your dress, smoothing it out as if to steady yourself. “I wasn’t sure if it was my color.”

“It is,” he says, and there’s no hesitation in his voice, just certainty. “Blue suits you.”

You blink, staring at him, at the way he’s looking at you now—open, earnest, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Something in his eyes shifts, like he’s trying to gauge whether you’ll believe him, whether you’ll understand the weight behind those words. And you do.

A smile spreads across your face before you can even stop it. It’s like all the pieces of this night fall into place, clicking together, and for the first time in hours, you feel lighter. The alcohol fades to a dull buzz in the back of your mind, replaced by a warmth that starts in your chest and spreads outward, filling you up from the inside.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say softly, the words slipping out before you even think about them. You’re not even sure who you’re trying to convince. Maybe him. Maybe yourself.

He smiles back, that familiar, crooked grin that makes your heart stutter in your chest. And just like that, you know.

The tension between you two, the hurt, the anger—it’s all still there, but it’s fading, slipping away with each breath you take, with each passing moment. The connection you’ve both been avoiding is right there, in the space between you, unspoken but understood.

Without thinking, without hesitating, you step forward. The words leave your mouth before your brain can stop them.

“Do you want to come in?”

For a second, he doesn’t answer. He just looks at you, his expression unreadable, like he’s trying to figure out what’s real and what’s not. But then the smile returns, a little softer, a little more vulnerable this time, and he steps closer, his hand brushing against yours again.

“I’d like that.”

You step aside, holding the door open for him, and as he crosses the threshold into your apartment, the world outside fades away. The weight of the night, the tension, the unspoken feelings—it all starts to fall away as you close the door behind him, the sound of it locking making everything feel a little more real.

And for the first time tonight, you feel like you might actually be able to breathe again.

Inside, the apartment feels cozy, a stark contrast to the cold night air outside. You toss your keys onto the counter, the clink of metal breaking the comfortable silence as Joe surveys the familiar space. He’s been here more times than you can count, so much that it’s almost like he lives here—except he doesn’t. He’s always just passing through, leaving behind traces of himself that linger far longer than he does.

“I’m gonna shower,” he says casually, already heading toward the bathroom like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it is.

“Sure,” you reply, watching as he grabs a towel from the hall closet without missing a beat. “You know where everything is.”

He shoots you a grin over his shoulder. “Hard not to when half of it used to be mine.”

You roll your eyes, but a laugh slips out before you can stop it. The tension from earlier feels miles away, replaced by an easy warmth that only Joe seems to bring. You head to the couch, plopping down and grabbing the remote while he disappears into the bathroom. The sound of water running fills the quiet, and you let yourself sink into the cushions, your body finally relaxing.

When Joe reappears twenty minutes later, his hair damp and curling slightly at the ends, he’s wearing a pair of sweats and an old LSU hoodie you distinctly remember stealing from him months ago. The sight of him makes your stomach flip, but you push the feeling down, focusing on the TV as he flops onto the couch beside you.

He stretches out, his long legs taking up most of the space, and gestures at his hoodie with a mock-serious expression. “You know, you could at least ask before raiding my closet.”

You glance at him, feigning innocence. “What can I say? Your clothes are comfortable. And they look better on me.”

He snorts, leaning back with a grin that’s all teasing charm. “Debatable.”

“Not even a little bit,” you counter, smirking. The playful banter feels so normal, so easy, that you almost forget the storm that brewed between you earlier.

Almost.

After a while, the two of you migrate to your bed, the comforter a welcoming cocoon as you prop up pillows and settle in with The Office playing softly in the background. Joe’s on one side, you’re on the other, the space between you wide enough to be friendly but not awkward. It feels... safe. Like every other time you’ve done this.

But tonight, something lingers in the air, something unspoken that buzzes just beneath the surface. You try to ignore it, to lose yourself in the familiar rhythm of Jim and Pam’s back-and-forth, but you can feel Joe shifting beside you, his presence impossible to ignore.

It’s almost halfway through an episode when he speaks, his voice cutting through the soft glow of the TV. “You know…” he starts, his tone so casual it catches you off guard. “It’s funny how everyone thinks we’re just friends.”

You turn to look at him, your brows knitting together. “Uh… because we are just friends?”

He shrugs, his eyes still fixed on the screen, his expression maddeningly nonchalant. “Sure, but like… doesn’t it ever feel like more than that sometimes? Like, not in a weird way, but…” He trails off, his lips curving into a small, almost amused smile. “I don’t know. Just thinking out loud.”

Your heart stutters, your breath catching as his words sink in. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of the way his arm brushes against yours, the warmth radiating from his body, the way his voice dips just enough to make you second-guess everything. But Joe doesn’t seem fazed. If anything, he looks like he’s just commented on the weather, like this vague, half-confession isn’t turning your entire world upside down.

“Joe…” You hesitate, unsure of what to say or how to even process what he just implied.

He finally looks at you, his gaze steady but soft, like he’s daring you to call him out. “What? I’m just saying. It’s not that crazy of an idea, is it?”

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. You’re torn between laughing at how absurdly casual he’s being and screaming at him for dropping this bombshell like it’s nothing. Instead, you settle for staring at him, your mind racing as the silence stretches on.

And then, as if to hammer the final nail in your coffin, he adds, “I mean, you do look really good in that dress. I wasn’t lying about that.”

It feels like the air’s been knocked out of you. Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure he can hear it, and you’re not entirely sure if the warmth spreading through your chest is panic or something else entirely.

Joe doesn’t push. He just leans back against the pillows, his gaze flicking back to the TV like he didn’t just casually crack open the door to feelings you’ve spent way too long pretending don’t exist. But the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth gives him away. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

And for the first time, you’re not sure if you want to close that door or walk straight through it.

Your brain short-circuits. There’s no other way to describe it. You sit there, staring at him, your mouth opening and closing like you’re a fish out of water, but no words come out. None. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your thoughts racing too fast for you to grab hold of even one.

Joe waits, his expression unreadable. His eyes flick to yours, searching, like he’s waiting for some kind of confirmation—or maybe a rejection. The seconds stretch into what feels like hours, and the weight of the moment settles heavily between you.

You want to say something, anything, but your tongue feels glued to the roof of your mouth, and all you can do is sit there like an idiot while your heart threatens to burst out of your chest.

And then, Joe decides he’s done waiting.

Without warning, he leans in, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face as his lips press softly against yours. It’s gentle, tentative, like he’s giving you every chance to pull away. But you don’t. You can’t. The moment his mouth touches yours, it’s like the world stops spinning.

When he pulls back, his gaze locks on yours, his thumb brushing against your cheek. His expression is softer than you’ve ever seen it, and his voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

It takes a second for his words to register, but when they do, they snap you out of your daze. “I’m impossible?” you manage to croak, your voice barely above a whisper. “You just—”

“Yeah,” he interrupts, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I did.”

You blink at him, still trying to process what just happened. But then the realization hits you like a freight train, and the words tumble out before you can stop them. “I feel the same way.”

Joe’s smirk widens into a full-blown grin, and he leans back, his hand dropping to rest casually on your knee. “Took you long enough to say it,” he teases, his tone light but undeniably smug. “Thought I was gonna have to spell it out for you.”

Your cheeks burn, and you swat at his arm, unable to stop the small laugh that escapes you. “Oh, shut up.”

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tucking you into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hoodie smells like fresh laundry and something distinctly Joe, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of him, your head resting against his chest.

For a while, neither of you say anything. The TV continues playing in the background, the familiar sounds of The Office filling the room, but neither of you are paying attention anymore. Joe’s fingers trace absent patterns on your arm, and every now and then, you catch him glancing down at you with a soft smile that makes your heart flutter all over again.

It’s quiet, easy, comfortable, like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. And maybe, just maybe, it is.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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lanawinterscigarettes · 10 days ago

Text

Sweet Tooth (Joe Goldberg x gn reader x Love Quinn)

Summary: you're a big fan of the bakery, but Joe and Love are after something sweeter- you

Warnings: obsessive behavior from Love and Joe but that's about it

A/N: my mom made me a carrot cake recently and it inspired me to write this

Everyday you entered A Fresh Tart right after lunch, needing a little something to satiate your sweet tooth before heading back to work. Sometimes it was a cake, sometimes it was a cookie, sometimes a pie, but it was always delicious.

Love quickly caught on to your routine, always making sure she was free to assist you whenever you came in. If another customer needed help, they were just going to have to wait, because you were much more important.

The bell chimed above the door to signal that you'd arrived, prompting her to smooth out the front of her apron before putting on a bright smile. "Hey! I was wondering when you were going to come in."

"I had a meeting that ran a little late, so my lunch hour got pushed back some," you replied with a smile that mirrored hers. The unfortunate bags under your eyes didn't escape her, a sure sign that you were overworking yourself, but the faint dimples that formed on your cheeks quickly diverted her attention. How cute.

"Well, you're here now. So, what can I get for you?"

While you mulled over what kind of confection you wanted for the day, Joe peeked his head out from the back. So that's the person Love always raved about coming in just after noon. You were cute, he couldn't deny that.

"If you're having some trouble making a decision, why don't you try both and see which one you like better?" He heard his wife offer when you clearly became stuck on choosing between two different sweet treats.

"Oh, I can't do that," you began to protest before Love waved her hand dismissively at your words.

"Nonsense! It's my bakery, and I say you can have a sample if you wish," she insisted while cutting a small sliver of cake from the one in the glass display case before grabbing the second pastry you'd been eyeing, placing them both in a paper to go box. "Try both, and tomorrow you when you come in you can tell me which one you liked better."

"That's awfully kind of you. Are you sure I don't owe you anything?" You asked as she slid the box across the counter, already starting to pull out your wallet.

"Of course not! It's on the house."

Despite her words of reassurance and warm smile, you still felt as though she deserved something in return, so you took out a five dollar bill and stuck it in the tip jar. "I'll be back tomorrow at my usual time."

Her eyes twinkled with admiration at the small act of kindness. You were so much sweeter than any of the things she baked, that much was certain. "See you then."

Joe came out from the back as she was watching you leave, slightly amused at the exchange that just happened. Before he could speak, however, she beat him to it.

"I want them."

It wasn't a suggestion or a request, it was a demand, one that wasn't left open for any arguments. Love wanted you, and what she wanted she got. All she needed to do was get him on board, which shouldn't be too hard given just how irresistible you were.

The next day when you came in, Love wasn't there, having taken Henry to a doctor's appointment for a check-up, which meant the she'd left Joe in charge.

"Oh, hey," you greeted in a friendly manner despite never having met him before. "You must be Joe, right? Love told me that she ran the place with her husband."

Immediately he knew why she wanted you so much. Everything about you just screamed perfect, there was no doubt about that. "Uh, yeah, hi. She told me you were having some sort of difficulty choosing between two items yesterday," he casually mentioned, wanting you to think their marriage was much smoother than it really was. They couldn't lure you in successfully if all you saw were their problems.

"I did, you're right," you replied with a soft laugh, one that made his heart leap forward in his chest. God, no wonder Love always dropped everything just so she could see you whenever you came in. He suspected the only reason she'd offered to take Henry today was so he could officially meet you and become just as obsessed with you as she was.

"And were you able to make a decision?" He was curious about you already, curious about your personal taste, your likes and dislikes. He needed to know it all.

"Well, they were both amazing as usual, but I think I'm going to have to go with the cake. Everything about it was delicious, especially the icing," you fondly reminisced, almost beginning to salivate at the thought alone.

"Sure thing," he said while grabbing a knife to cut you a slice, unable to stop himself from thinking about just how sweet your lips must taste after every trip you made to the bakery. He'd have to try a piece of the cake himself a little later so he could imagine it properly.

Your eyes were wide with giddy delight as you observed his every move, clearly excited to be able to eat the cake when you got the chance. You were just about to pull out your wallet when he held up his hand to stop you. "Don't worry about it. Love told me to tell you it's on the house."

"You know, one of these days you're really going to have to let me repay you somehow," you commented while dropping aother five dollar bill into the tip jar, just like you did last time.

Joe was already thinking of ways for you to repay the both of them, but they were far too lewd for him to say out loud. "You have a nice day," was his response instead, giving you a small wave as you left.

Damn it, he was hooked. There was no way he could refuse Love's order, because now he wanted the exact same thing she did: you.

And they were going to have you, one way or the other, no matter what it took.

End notes: I loved writing this and I'd totally be up to making a part two if anyone wanted it <3

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circeyoru · 9 months ago

Text

Gone Too Young _ Part 4 = Collab

[Human & Demon!Alastor x Male BFF!Reader] - Platonic

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 (here)

My collaborator: @blubugg13

As the two of you got older, you had more jobs on your agenda and Alastor was busy with his internship at the local news stations so he could get a feel of being a news reporter, later a radio host, just as you suggested

You knew him well, turns out he does like the thought of being a radio host, he had the idea of you being his co-host or a guest from time to time, even an assistant! That way, your job is stable enough and he would be able to help you finanically whenever you needed without you complaining like you do now

His mother had the better idea. Adoption. While you were off the list, surely you’d make an exception when it was his mother was wanted to do it. He could see as clear day that you had a soft spot for his mother. Hard to reject motherly love, he’ll agree. It was your Christmas gift, you’ll have a family

You never showed up to the secret meet up you two arranged. Alastor waited under the freezing cold, the streets were a buzz, he watched families go up and down. Perhaps you were working a bit later, you did say you might not be able to make it and apologized beforehand. He waited a bit longer. You still didn’t show up. He had to return home

He didn’t know, the ambulance that he passedby carried your deceased body

Christmas day came by, you weren’t there. The orphanage cancelled the adoption plan his mother registered. Before they agreed! They said it would be the perfect surprise even! Everyone was in on it but you

Something in his gut told him, something’s wrong. He ran to the orphanage and asked for you, maybe you were sick and couldn’t tell him. Yeah. When he got there, he wasn’t allowed entry, the director came to the door personally to inform him you leave town for an internship, some wealthy businessman offered you that and you took it and left

“When will he be back?” Alastor recalled asking.

Yet there was no solid answer.

“A few days, I’m sure.” Your sister figure answered without looking at him. He caught her outside while shopping.

“I think like a month. Not sure.” Your coworker shrugged.

“He’s sleeping though.” One of the little ones you take care of spoke when he sneaked into the orphanage to see you.

“Maybe never, you never know.” One of your employer said.

“Stop asking for him! Mind your own business!” The director stopped him in his tracks.

But you were his business. He was your best friend and you were his. Why can’t he know where you went and when you’ll be back? Why does it feel like everyone but his mother and he know something about you?

Then he caught it while listening in on some workers chat while taking a break outside the last factory your worked at. The horrifying truth of your disappearance

“That kid Alastor’s back?”

“Yeah, he’s asking about him again.”

A sigh. “Can’t we just tell him what happened? It was an accident.”

“Are you crazy?! Who would want to know their friend ended up like that?!”

“Besides, the orphanage director already said to keep quiet about it.”

“I mean, it’s brutal.”

“I’ll say. Getting your arm rolled into the machine like a piece of meat, then die from blood loss.”

“I still get nightmares from that day.”

“Christmas day horror. It was even worse for that guy that accidentally bumped into him, right?”

“Yeah, Joe quit his job and just disappeared.”

“But I heard he was a roadkill somewhere.”

“Wow, that’s like karma.”

“Crazy sh*t happens everywhere…”

Alastor never ran that fast in his life. His smile fell and tears rained, the weather seemed to echo with the truth he learned, it rained, poured heavily. He ran into the forest and screamed till his voice gave out

No way… No way. NO WAY. NO WAY! NO WAY IN HELL!

He clenched as he fell to his knees. How could they keep such a secret to him? Everyone. Every one of them lied to him. Because he was some kid. Because you were just an orphan? Why? Why didn’t anyone tell him?

Unlike the others, he told his mother the truth he learned. Those adoption papers that sat on her desk in the study room were put away into a drawer, locked up. His mother soon fell ill from griefing and the shock, passing soon after then

Now when he walked the same roads and saw the people you helped, he saw red. That rage boil within him. Who knew and didn’t care? Who ignored your tragic death?

Without anything to ground him, he only had his job as the new radio host. A grand start!

“Welcome, everyone! I am Alastor, now your new radio host! You might have remembered me from other channels when I was still a young lad, haha! I’m here to stay! But regrettably, I have to start with recording some distrubing and tragic news. There seems to be a killer on the loose. So everyone be sure to lock your doors and windows at all times, you never know when the killer will strike.”

Note: A bit short but... That concludes the parts for the human Alastor and Reader~ Next up are the ones for the demon version and in Hell~

Circe Y.

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applebutter-and-cinnamon · 8 months ago

Text

Breath of Life

Pairing: Joe Rantz x OC (Sadie)

Warnings: Drowning, Choking on Water, Passing out, Being unable to swim

Disclaimer: I've never actually drowned before, so if I've gotten some things wrong I apologize.

Boys in the Boat Masterlist

This is not meant to be a reflection of the real person that was portrayed in the Boys in the Boat. It is a work of fiction.

Joe's lungs were burning when Bobby finally yelled at them to ease up. Coach Ulbrickson signaled at them to head back to the docks when they were ready before speeding off in his boat ahead of them.

It was an unusually sunny day in Seattle. The water was calm and they had glided through the water easily all throughout practice. He was winded and tired, but in a remarkably good mood. The boys ahead and behind him were tilting their heads back toward the sun and running their fingers through the crisp water outside their boat.

Bobby let them all rest a moment before signaling with a shout to begin rowing back to the shell house. They rowed as if each passing second was a luxury. He and the rest of his shells crew were a well-oiled unit when they were all focused on keeping their heads in the boat and nowhere but in the boat.

They pulled up to the docks, pulled themselves out of the shell, and carried it out of the water into the shell house. Bobby, who was too short to be much of a help in carrying it, walked in front of them. He cleared the way and opened doors, making it easier for them to store it quickly.

Joe only felt the day catch up to him when they hit the showers and he felt the long, continuous stream of water falling softly against the skin of his back. He was hoping to see Sadie later in the day, she liked to study under a giant oak tree after her last lecture of the day and if he caught her in a good mood, he thought he might be able to convince her to study later and spend some time with him instead.

He wasn't the only guy in the boat with a girl he was eager to get to after practice. Roger had a date lined up with his Annie and Shorty had said something earlier about meeting up with a new girl that he'd met the previous night. Joe had never seen Don with a girl, but he was pretty sure that his stroke had plans to study with Bobby.

Joe toweled off and dressed himself quickly, his mind navigating the quickest path towards the oak tree that Sadie loved. He'd finished tying his shoes when the first desperate screams of a young woman echoed through the boathouse.

There was a brief moment, when the guys shared shocked looks with one another before they all burst into motion. Leaving through the locker room door and out into the main storage room of the shell house. Moving quickly, he was able to see the coaches also peaking their heads out of their office in alarm. Mr. Pocock appeared too, out of the workshop on the second story and holding a tool in his right hand.

To Joe's surprise he recognized the girl who was panicking desperately in the face of one of the freshman boys. It was Lily, one of Sadie's friends, who was pulling harshly at the boys arm trying to get him to follow her.

"Lily?" She turned toward him the second he called out her name in confusion. Her eyes were filled with tears that were pouring down her cheeks as she hurried over to him, grabbing his arm and pulling her with him. She was breathing so hard that it was hard to understand what she was saying outside of an obvious call for help. "What's wrong? What is it?"

He didn't like the look she was giving him. It was so full of not just fear, but blood curdling panic. It wasn't for her though, it seemed to be for someone else and at the way she was gripping his arm, turning it white with her strength, Joe had a stomach dropping feeling at who it might be for.

"It's Sadie, someone pushed her in the water."

~~~

Sadie tilted her head back, basking in the beautiful Seattle sunshine. It had been days, upon days of endless rainfall and when the clouds had parted to reveal the sun's golden rays shining through the windows in her lecture hall, she couldn't help but smile. Thankfully, her professor had also seen the rare sunshine and had released them early for the day, rushing his way out ahead of everyone else.

Following the rest of her classmates out into the warm air, Sadie saw the oak tree that normally pulled her to rest beneath it's offer of shade. Whether to study or to stare at a cloudy sky, she normally would take it up on it's offer of respite.

Sadie glanced down at the watch on her wrist, she'd gotten out of her lecture early enough that if she hurried, she might be able to catch Joe after practice. She missed him. He had been extremely busy between rowing, saving money up for his tuition, and his homework that it had been hard for them to find the time to spend together. She was determined to find the time to spend with him today.

She redirected her course and set out for the University of Washington's shell house. It was a little bit far from where her lecture was, but it was so nice out that Sadie found herself enjoying the walk. The breeze messed her hair but it also carried the scent of fresh water and sweet grass. She had to meander around groups of other students but it was so nice to see everyone smiling instead of rushing from building to building.

The ground grew steeper, sloping down towards the water's edge as she drew closer. From a distance, she could make out a group of tall, young men carrying their boats inside. She couldn't see Joe's crew but there wasn't anyone else out on the water either so she assumed that he was inside showering and resigned herself to waiting.

She had begun to look for a large tree to occupy her time under when she spotted a flickering hand in the air, waving back and forth to get her attention. Following the hand down, she was met with the dazzling white smile of Lily. She was smiling so hard that Sadie wondered if her cheeks were hurting, nevertheless, Sadie couldn't help but smile back at her, waving as she did.

"Come over here," Lily yelled, waving her over to where she rested on one of the floating docks. Sadie hesitated.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. Many of the other students liked to lay on the docks during nice weather to watch the rowing teams compete at the end of practice, but Sadie, who had never learned to swim had always found herself a bit uneasy on the docks. They had no railing and the water stretched endlessly down below them.

When Joe had taken her out to row she'd been nervous enough to distract herself from the uneasiness of being out on the open water. Plus, Joe had kept a steady hand on the small of her back, keeping her upright whenever she stumbled. Where Lily was on the docks, she'd have to navigate down a good portion of floating wood around some of the other students who were standing to leave now that practice was over and heading in the other direction.

Sadie glanced at the shell house, thinking over her own fears and looked back to where Lily was smiling brightly. It couldn't hurt, she guessed, and she wouldn't have to stay long. Once Joe came out she could quickly head back to the safety that was dry ground and spend the rest of her evening with her beau.

"Sadie!" Lily called again, laughing slightly in bewilderment at the stalled movement of her friend.

She forced a bright smile and placed a hesitant foot on the first slat of wood, "I'm coming!"

She kept one arm around her school books keeping them close to her chest as more of a comforting pressure than to keep them from falling in the water and she used her other arm, low as it was by her side, for stability. Sadie moved slowly, as courageous as she was trying to be, she could feel how hard her heart pounded and was perfectly fine with taking her time.

Moving quickly in the other direction, the last group of students on the docks walked by her and jostled the wood slightly as they did. She inhaled sharply at the movement then smiling politely as they tossed her concerned glances at the noise. She waited a moment for the dock to steady then continued on at her leisurely pace.

Sadie glanced up to measure the amount of distance remaining between herself and Lily. It wasn't too much further and then she could lower herself on the blue cotton blanket that Lily had spread out carefully to sit on. She'd already quirked a brow to begin saying something to Lily when the thud of rapid footsteps came up behind her. Sadie didn't have time to look to see who it was before they slammed into her shoulders and knocked her unsteady.

Her books slipped from their careful placement against her chest as her feet slid out from beneath her. She only had enough time to draw in a quick breath before she felt the water close around her head.

It was shockingly cold, she thought to herself. Distantly, she could make out the panicked voice of Lily calling out something above the water. Sadie knew enough about swimming to know that she needed to use her legs to propel herself up the surface of the water. Struggling, she kicked her legs, feeling her shoes slide off of her feet as she did. The water swished around her, moving her up before something tightened at her ankle pulling her back slightly, just as her outstretched finger broke the surface of the water.

She looked down to see a tangled strip of net caught around her ankle. Curling down, she did her best to loosen the net to free her foot from it's confines. Her lungs were burning with the desire to inhale and somewhere in the back of her mind, behind the panic that was building inside of her, she scolded herself for every other time in her life that she'd taken for granted the ability to breathe easily.

The water embraced her, keeping her in it's icy hold and caressing her hair as it floated all about her. It was beautiful, the way the sunlight trickled down through the surface of the water in golden rays. The sun was getting dimmer by the second and she wondered if she were sinking further down.

She couldn't hear Lily's voice anymore and but she hadn't caught the moment it had stopped. What she could hear was the hard pounding of her heart in her head, pounding just as hard as it had the first time she saw Joe smile.

In the next instant the water around her shook, moving her about in the water and bubbles danced along her skin. Rough, warm hands grabbed under her arms in an attempt to pull her up, halting only as the net pulled her back down. Sadie guessed it pulled her farther down this time as the sun's rays continued to disappear from her view.

The same rough hands grabbed her cheeks, shaking her gently and she forced her eyes open. The sun, she thought confused, was starting to look an awful lot like Joe. A very concerned and panicked Joe.

The urge to inhale was too strong for her to resist and her muscle began to work despite her telling it not too, forcing her to inhale a large lungful of icy water. Her body convulsed; hard.

The water shook again, moving further below her and she felt a vibrating sensation from the net around her ankle. She didn't have the energy to look down anymore though, instead, Sadie let her eyes fall closed.

The vibrating stopped after what could've been a moment and she felt herself being pulled through the water again. Rough hands were holding her close to a warm body and she let herself rest there as the world faded into nothing.

Distantly, in the part of her brain that was still working, Sadie was aware of many sets of hands pulling her out of the water and away from the warm chest she'd been resting on. In that same part of her brain, she could hear the panicked voices of Joe's crew as they scrambled around her.

It only took a moment for the familiar rough hands to come back to her, holding her cheeks tenderly for only a moment before she felt firm pressure on her chest. Those hands worked repeatedly against her chest for a moment before they parted her lips. Joe's lips slotted against hers, blowing warm breath into her mouth.

The hands stopped for a moment before picking back up, quicker and with more determination. Hands. Pressure. Lips and breath. Hands. Pressure. Lips and breath. Hands. Pressure. Lips and breath.

After a moment, her brain latched onto the repeated sound of Joe's voice in her ear.

"C'mon baby," he was saying, voice huffing as he worked. Joe's lips pressed against hers and as he breathed into her, she felt something begin to work its way up her lungs.

"Come back to me, Sweetheart," Joe sounded desperate, bordering on hysterical as he called out to her. His lips pressed against her's again, pushing the air into her lungs and this time Sadie forced her eyes open.

Joe knelt above her, blonde hair and a very pale face dripping with water. His eyes trained onto her every movement, while his face was twisted into a pained expression. His endlessly blue eyes were full of tears that he refused to let fall down his face as he concentrated on Sadie.

She gazed at him, unblinking. To her, he looked like the Greek gods of old with his wet, tan skin and shining gold hair. It could very well have been Poseidon or Apollo who had decided to bless her with their presence. Sadie couldn't understand though, why someone so beautiful would be crying and internally cursed whatever situation had put him through such anguish, to hell.

Sadie thought all of this in the split second between when she opened her eyes and when the water surged forward from her lungs back out through her mouth. It spilled over her lips and she felt herself being twisted onto her side as she coughed it out. A large hand rubbing her back as she did. She braced her weight on a shaking elbow so she could cough without hitting her head against the wood.

"There you go, Sadie," Joe encouraged, voice still strained. "Get it all out."

Every breath of air into her lungs caused more water to gush out, burning it's way out of her body. Sadie groaned, she had no idea that water could burn, had thought up until this moment in her life, that it was supposed to be fire's job to burn.

Around her, she could hear the sound of relieved murmuring voices that she had begun to recognize as Joe's crew. After a few agonizing breaths she forced herself to sit up, ignoring the voices telling her to lay down and slumped against Joe, who immediately wrapped her in his arms, supporting all of her weight.

She tucked her head into the darkness between his neck and his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat and listening to his breathing. Sadie forced the oxygen in her own lungs to mimic his rhythm and after a few breaths, Joe caught on to what she was doing.

He began exaggerating his breathing, forcing slow and steady breaths that she could replicate on her own. When she felt like she could breath at a normal rate without focusing all of her brain power to it, she pulled back to look around.

It couldn't have been too much longer since she went under. Lily's blanket was underneath her, the sun was still shining brightly, and the breeze was rustling the leaves of the trees around her. Don Hume was dripping wet, standing closest to them while six other crew members from Joe's boat stood closely behind him. Chuck Day with his arm around a crying Lily.

Joe gripped her cheek with one of his hands, drawing her attention back to him, "I'm going to carry you to the shell house, alright?" His voice trembled slightly but after she nodded her consent, he picked her up and held her securely against his chest. She rested her head against his shoulder, closed her eyes and let his steady rhythm of footfalls lull her away.

~~~

When Sadie gained consciousness, she was still in Joe's arms but they were not outside and they were not in the main room of the shell house. She was laying down on a small, twin mattress with her head resting on Joe's chest. His arms were holding her securely to him. He clung to her like she might slip away at any moment.

She recognized this room from when she'd been in it in passing. It was Joe's room, the one that he shared with Roger Davis, though Roger wasn't in it at present. Light shone through the closed blinds, but it was a soft pink of morning instead of the golden yellow of the afternoon.

As she looked around, she felt Joe stir against her. His eyes fluttered open, took in the fact that she was awake and that she was watching him. He seemed more relaxed now, though she made a mental note of the fact that he seemed unable to stop himself from touching her in some way.

"Hey there," his voice rumbled from deep in his chest, still rough with sleep. His eyes were soft and his thumb was rubbing small circles in the small of her back.

Sadie offered him a weak smile, "Hey."

His forehead was wrinkled with worry. "You gave me quite a scare," he confessed to her.

Sadie nodded, dropping her gaze from his. She brought her hand that was between them up to the center of his chest, drawing small shapes as she composed her thoughts.

Joe was quiet, content to lay with Sadie in his arms. She cleared her throat, "What happened?"

At her question, Joe began to sit up slightly and cradled her face in his hands as he studied her eyes and face. "You don't remember falling in the lake yesterday?"

Sadie reached up to hold one of his wrists in her hand, "I remember that part. I don't remember much else after slipping into the water."

"Lily came into the shell house, completely panicking," Joe started. "She said that you'd slipped into the water and hadn't come back out."

Joe stared at the wall as he recalled it to her. His eyes full of anguish and his grip on her tightened with the need to convince himself that she was beside him.

"We followed her out to where you'd fallen in and I jumped in to grab you out but you were stuck on something. Thankfully, Don noticed and jumped in after me. He had a pocket knife that he used to cut you free."

Sadie nodded, it all checked out to her. She could remember the vibrating sensation dancing up her foot while she was in the water.

"You couldn't have been in there for very long, but by the time we pulled you out, your lips were blue. You weren't breathing," Joe paused, breathing deeply. His eyes fell shut and he leaned his forehead against hers.

They rested like that for a short time while Joe tried to calm himself down, clutching to her like she was a lifeline. After a bit, Sadie pulled back and Joe opened his eyes to look at her. They were both sitting upright now but she rose up on her knees, hearing the mattress groan as she did.

She grabbed onto Joe's shoulders to steady herself and swung one of her legs across Joe's hips so that she was straddling him. His hands came up to rest on her hips, stabilizing her as she sat down on his thighs.

Sadie slid her hands from his shoulders and into his hair, caressing his blonde curls and massaging his scalp until his shoulders released the tension he was holding there.

Joe cleared his throat and looked at her, "You weren't breathing so we did CPR until you were. I carried you back to the shell house, Bobby had run to grab a Doctor while I went in after you so they checked you out."

"What did they say?" She asked, moving her thumbs up to smooth his temples. Joe leaning into her touch as she did.

"You were awake for that part," he hummed, "But, you feel back asleep pretty quickly after. Doc said you were fine and that you'd need to take it easy for the next couple of days. You were pretty out of it though, so I took you in here and we both fell asleep."

She shivered and Joe brought the quilt that was covering them both to wrap more tightly around her shoulders, while pulling her closer to him. "Thank you," she whispered.

He shook his head, "Please, don't ever do that again. I don't think I can handle it."

She laughed blankly, "I wasn't really trying to do it the first time either."

Joe nodded, "I know." He cupped her cheeks and brought her in for a slow, warm kiss that had her melting into his touch. It was a kiss that told her just how worried he had been and how glad he was to have her near him now.

Sadie responded in kind, gliding her hands across his skin and pouring all of her love for him into their kiss. Joe's hands flexed against her hips and turning his head, he deepened their kiss. His tongue parted her lips and he kissed her until all Sadie could taste, feel and hear was Joe Rantz.

A/N: Y'all I fell in love with this idea and was having such a fun time writing it up until the end. It sort of died there lol. Thanks for sticking it out til then and I'll do my best to keep writing for the boys.

#joe rantz #joe rantz x reader #the boys in the boat #callum turner #callum turner x reader

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samcvrpenters · 2 months ago

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word count: 1.5k+

pairing: joe goldberg x fem! obsessive! reader

summary: he never expected you to be infatuated with him in the way he was with you

warnings: stalking, violence, murder, angst (?), kinda a similar situation to what happened in s3 e10 but still different

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joe goldberg was paradoxical. paradoxical in the sense that he constantly contradicted himself with the words that were spat from his mouth or the thoughts that circled that endless abyss of his mind— the drop into his soul something that would take hours to progress down.

it was the way he told himself that he couldn’t love you. that everything in his heart screamed that you were a monster, just like him, and that you would forever be part of that tree that would grow horror after horror and terror after terror. he could see you as the villain in the next horror movie, and him as the helpless victim who could only succumb to your crimes and either except them or die.

yet it was also shouting at him about how affectionate you were towards him. how you would gently brush your fingers through his hair and tell him that he meant the world to you. how you would send those kisses up and down his skin and tell him he deserved every bit of love you gave him.

maybe he should be afraid.

he was obsessed with candace, and you had always found yourself wondering why. why he didn’t try and find someone as smart and intelligent as him. you were glad when he told you that she met her end with soil over her flesh.

and now he had fallen in love with you. as he should be. he should be so obsessed with you that every time he even hears your name he should perk up like a dog who had just seen its owner.

maybe that’s all he was to you— some dog that you would be able to control and keep on a leash. but, no. it was different. his mind and what he thought was unfaithful to what happened. you didn’t collar him or keep him tied to your limbs in order to keep him close to you. no— you would never find it in your heart to be able to do that.

but he found it in his heart to do something about your obsessive behaviour.

of course, at first he didn’t mind. truly. so what if you were taking a few things from his apartment? what was a couple of shirts going missing going to do to his lifestyle? he didn’t really care about that.

no, it was the stalking.

the way he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without your watching eyes on him. he knew that you knew that he knew you would always be there, but he never actually mentioned it.

maybe if he had said something things would be different for the two of you.

maybe he wouldn’t be planning your inevitable death right now if he had simply spoke up.

did he feel guilty? a little. who wouldn’t? he was planning on killing his spouse— someone who was closer to him than anyone else would be. someone who understood him— and someone who could help him understand who he truly was. that it was okay not to be perfect. that it was okay to have a couple of downfalls and make a few mistakes, whether it was a couple of stabs to the throat or simply forgetting something for a movie night.

and now, here he was. taking the easy way out by poisoning your drink.

you had prepared such a nice meal. he had to admit that you were a fantastic cook when you put your mind to it. that seeing you pull everything together was incredible, and that it was almost mesmerising just watching you cut up pepper with the same knife you had used to dismember someone, or the grater you used to cut off someone’s flesh for flirting with him.

“i made your favourite.” your voice was cheery, as always. something he couldn’t stand yet loved at the same time. that difference between your facade and your true personality— it was something that made his heart pound with something that he wasn’t too sure what it was.

pride?

love?

respect?

respect for being able to push yourself into a normal environment as if you hadn’t just spent your last few years killing hundreds of people.

talk about being a psychopath.

he had come out of the kitchen, two glasses in hand as he worked his way to the dining room, mentally keeping note of which one was the deadly one that would instantly kill— or whether it was the safe one that his lips would touch.

“and i brought wine.” the smile on his face was so believable.

two masterminds in a relationship together— one plotting against the other? it was a situation that would always be unavoidable, and to him, unforgettable. he knew he would always think of you when he had let you meet your demise.

because it wasn’t necessarily his fault.

he didn’t cause it. he was just speeding along the process of natural death. which is what any criminal could argue when it came to sitting down in the courtroom and hoping they would be able to get out of the situation they had put on themselves.

his smile was fake as he set both of the glasses down, the two of you sitting at the table with almost complete synchronisation.

you two were perfect. what was he doing? he couldn’t kill you. no— he couldn’t.

but he couldn’t have second thoughts either. he couldn’t reverse his actions now. he had already supplied one of the glasses with the poison and it’s not like he could turn back time.

you both tucked into the meal— which was something he admittedly loved. yet you hated. god, the things you were willing to do for him.

it was already reinforcing the fact he was unable to do this to you.

but it was too late.

you had already raised the glass to your lips and had took a sip out of it. he knew he had made a mistake. knew he shouldn’t be simply watching. he knew he should knock the glass out of your hand and let it smash to the floor, and leave you no explanation as to why apart from that he was insane.

but he couldn’t do it.

“nice wine.” you simply comment, taking another sip from it before cutting into whatever food you had put together.

his eyebrows furrow together for a moment, his face twisting into one of confusion as he tries to work out what had happened. how had you survived? that was meant to knock someone out instantly— maybe give them a couple of seizures. he wasn’t sure. he didn’t really read up about it too much. which was strange, considering he was usually so careful and observant.

what had happened?

why weren’t you convulsing on the floor and trying to spit up any of the alcohol?

not that he minded, of course. he was glad that you weren’t dying. he never wanted it to happen. he wasn’t really sure what came over him. maybe it was a bad dream— maybe it was something else. he wasn’t too sure what caused him to act so impulsively. maybe he was just fed up of trying to be so smart and cautious.

“why do you look so confused?” you let out a small laugh, gently grabbing his hand over the table and squeezing it, your wedding band pushing into his skin. “what? you didn’t think i wouldn’t know?”

he was honestly speechless. “i—“ he cuts himself off though, his eyes just staring at you.

he wasn’t sure whether to be afraid or not.

no. he shouldn’t be. he had no reason to be afraid. he had done this before. with candace. she originally survived the first five minutes and then he had battered her with a club. you were no different. apart from he didn’t want you dead anymore.

“come on, joe. i’m smarter than that. you should know this by now.” you gently pull up his hand and kiss the back of it. “i’m not letting you leave me by killing me. that’s absurd. and, quite frankly, you’re not allowed to leave me at all.”

“what do you mean?” a question that should never be asked by a victim. because now the tables were turned, and he was the one who had been played.

“i mean that you shouldn’t have started eating in the first place, joe. do you know how easy it is to slip a sedative into food?” you let out a small sigh as you notice his eyelashes flutter, eyelids going a little weary for a moment. but he still looked terrified. “don’t worry. just relax. i’ll take care of you— i promise. and it was a promise in our vows, joe. one i’ll never break.”

he wished he was smarter, but his wishing was soon over when he let darkness overtake his body and be left with you.

#penn badgley #joe goldberg #you #joe goldberg x reader #you x reader #you series #you netflix

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 months ago

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Anywhere

Summary: Let’s thank Hozier for whatever this is because I can only think of it as brainrot. I had a part of this written for almost a year in my docs and couldn’t find inspiration to finish it but thanks to the incarnated Irish god I did.

Pairing: Hook x F!Reader (aka Tiger)

Warnings: Angst, mention of uncontrolled feelings, toxic relationship, self doubt, worthlessness, possible happy ending? idk

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @mjfass , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @ripleyswhore , @wickedval

It's the sound of it that brings me there

This city locked into the song of prayer

That finds no melody

Every moment of the working day

The twitching muscles in each step I take

The prayer is all of me

The Black & Mild hung from his lips and sent a white smoke up to the night sky, the burning tobacco somewhat was helping him soothe his instincts but Tyler asked himself for how long the warm smoke inside his mouth was going to be enough to keep his mind distant from the one place it didn’t want to stay away from.

Tyler chose to be absent from work for yet another week, and the backstage gossip was starting to build up to the point of annoyance. Even Tyler’s father had given him one of his famous earfuls earlier that night when he texted to say he wasn’t coming to work that week, and even though hours had passed by, Tyler could still hear his dad’s screams through the FaceTime call.

Another wave of warm smoke filled up his mouth before traveling down to his throat and lungs, all along carrying within itself the one word his father repeatedly had so vehemently: “obsession”.

“You’re obsessed with her, Tyler! Obsessed with a relationship you can’t stop fucking it up, snap out of it, son! Move the fuck on! Leave that poor girl alone, Tyler. You’ve done too much damage to get her back now, so put on your big boy pants, accept the results of your damn mistakes, stop destroying everything around you, stop destroying your fucking career, let her move on, get over this unhealthy obsession, and grow.the.fuck.up!”

This wasn’t obsession though, it was love in its raw, ugly, perverse, and deepest form. “Love doesn’t have to hurt”, they say. Yeah, sure, tell that to someone so desperate to make a relationship work that they commit every single possible mistake one can make. Perhaps this was what had doomed Tyler, he loved her too much.

That I'd be

Anywhere that you are, that you are

That I'd be

Anywhere that you are, that you are

When Tyler was 15 years old, his father took him to Joe’s barber shop two blocks down their house to have his first proper ‘man’ shave. As the older man began to spread the shaving cream on Tyler’s face, his father began “See, son, a man may like many women, we may grow fond of several females and keep them in our heart but if there’s one thing you should know is that a man only loves once. Real love will only be found once, in one single woman, and it doesn’t matter whether your relationship ends up working or not, you will forever love that woman until the day you die.”

“No matter how many girls you know afterward, no one will be able to replace the one woman who owns your heart. So once you find that girl, son, make sure you love, respect, and care for her. Do everything in your power to treat her like a queen, because that will be the woman who’ll forever live in your heart”.

Tyler did his best to treat her like a queen, but some things escaped his ability of self-control. Tiger is gorgeous, she is breathtaking, has the most wonderful personality, she’s incredibly smart, the most beautiful smile Tyler has ever seen, whenever she smiles it’s like the world has been put underneath a bright spotlight. She’s funny, caring, loving, she’s the best friend anyone could ever have, and the most addicting lover, sex with Tiger is out of this world, an out-of-body experience. There’s something special about sex with her, every touch is meaningful, every kiss is a silent promise of eternal love, and with every thrust, Tyler always felt their souls connecting.

He’s aware of how this sounds like some sort of hippie talk, but there was something incredibly spiritual and powerful about Tiger that only seemed to grow during sex. Although he wasn’t one to brag, Tyler has fucked a fair share of girls ever since he was 15 years old, and until he met Tiger, he was sure no woman would ever be able to handle him properly.

But even though sex was important to Tyler - and had been the base of every relationship he had until Tiggy came up - it shockingly wasn’t the sole reason why he loved her.

Tyler caught himself craving for her in more than sexual ways, he craved her affection, her touch, her capacity to begin a conversation about anything from something she saw on the news to curiosities about religions worldwide. He craved to see her smile, to hear her loud awkward laugh, to watch her cooking while using the wooden spoon as her own personal microphone. Tyler craved her advice on life, friendships, and work. He craved to hear her voice after a nightmare, to listen to her whisper-singing as a way to help him go back to sleep. He craved her, just having her there with him, craved the knowledge of having her waiting for him somewhere. Above anything else, Tyler missed how Tiger could bring peace to his soul just by existing.

And such peace seemed to be so distant to achieve now, that the world resembled a dark pit of miserableness, emptiness, and death. A limbo Tyler was certain he would never be able to leave.

Maybe I have yet to venture out

See the places that I hear about

Planes and trains and cars

Carve their lines into a curve like blades

All I get to are mistakes half-made

Leave the door ajar

Her wet footprints were unnoticeable against the damp concrete. Her eyes wandered around the streets, searching, wondering, pretending…She tried to make it work, but trying became tiring once it turned into a routine.

It was all too much, the arguing, the outbursts of jealousy, the lack of communication, the distrust, the assumptions..those killed her the most.

‘Where were you?’, ‘Why was he looking at you like that’, ‘Why didn’t you answer your phone if you were really with your mom?’, ‘Why do you smell like aftershave?’, ‘Why are you lying to me, Tiger?! Just tell me the fucking truth!’

Jealousy is not as glamorous as the books make it seem, it’s quite the opposite actually, it kills your mind along with your feelings until there comes a day when you realize that you don’t feel anything at all, and that’s when sadness takes over.

Mourning over something that once brought you so much happiness is a strange feeling. Looking at someone who used to be so dear to you and slowly watching them become the most despicable monster before your eyes is the most brutal thing one can go through. Love is such a delicate feeling, it’s alarming to see how quickly it can die when it stops being nourished. Tiger never believed it would be possible to stop loving Tyler, but life and its cruel - yet valuable - lessons showed her otherwise, it showed her how fairly easy it is to stop loving someone.

She never saw it coming, the day that she would leave the small one-bedroom apartment in New York behind, yet she did. Otherwise, how could she still be living? Even more so, how could Tyler still be alive if she hadn’t left that place for good?

Tiger loved freedom, while Tyler didn’t understand its meaning. Tiger wanted to be free with Tyler, as for Tyler, there was no freedom if he was with Tiger.

But I'd be

Anywhere that you are, that you are

That I'd be

Anywhere that you are, you are

She was the air that filled his lungs, so how could anyone live without air? Tyler tried to explain that to her over and over, but all he heard back was ‘You’re killing me, Ty! You’re suffocating me so much that I feel like I’m dying’. She said other fumbled words in between but that phrase was the only thing that sank into Tyler’s ears. He went deaf after that.

Tiger tried to find a middle ground, she thought therapy could help but how do you talk to someone who doesn’t want to utter a word? It’s pointless to try to fix a relationship when for it to work is a double-sided sword. Tiger couldn’t fix something that didn’t depend only on her, but Tyler was the king of perfection, Mr. There’s Nothing Wrong. So she just gave up, she couldn’t play tug-war anymore, she just wanted to leave and never go back to the Hell she was living in.

Love is not enough, it would never be enough, not if it was all it takes for a relationship to work. And both Tiger and Tyler learned that the hard way.

His eyes found her across the street, holding her small notepad and iconic glittery pen. She never came to this part of town, which made Tyler frown with worry. But her features seemed relaxed, serene even, as she observed the tall trees and how the thin rain droplets splattered the green leaves. ‘This is such a weird hobby’ Tyler thought to himself when they first met ‘Watching the leaves on a tree and scrambling down how it makes you feel’.

Tiger categorized it as ‘therapeutic’, and once she explained how it helped her ease her racing mind Tyler began admiring her for it.

Ironically enough, that was how they met back then, and now is how he meets her again after 6 months of their break up.

Watching her now, after everything Tyler knew and went through with her had him contemplating Tiger under a new light. ‘Perhaps she is happier like this, without you’ Tyler caught himself thinking, noticing how the lightheartedness that once was Tiger’s biggest quality seemed to have returned to her eyes now that she didn’t have him in her life anymore.

It’s sad to notice how the only person that you love so dearly seems to be better without you than when they were with you. Only now Tyler notices how he had killed Tiger during their time together. He killed her lightness, her freedom, her carefree nature. He transformed her into this sad caged bird that didn’t find happiness in singing anymore.

‘If you could go back in time, would you be different? Act differently? Approach things from another perspective?’ Tyler’s conscience asked him.

“Yes” Was his answer out loud, his eyes fixed on the wet pavement, without being able to keep looking at her.

‘Why? Because of your selfish reasons? Because you knew that you’d lose her if you didn’t?’ It asked him back.

But prayer

Is all of me, all of me

The prayer

Is all of me, all of me

“No” Tyler answered sincerely “Because I now know that she deserves better, way better than I ever was…way better than I could ever be”.

Tyler’s eyes tentatively looked up again, in the hopes of imprinting her true self into his mind one last time, until his orbs stopped at her caramel-colored coat standing right before him.

Tiger’s eyes wandered his face, focusing on his eye patch for a couple of seconds before asking “Are you a pirate now?”

For the first time in 6 months, Tyler let out a chuckle, “Maybe…If you like pirates then sure, I’m a pirate. But if you don’t, then I’m just a loser. The biggest asshole to ever walk the earth”.

“Yeah, that you are” She smiled sadly “Have you learned anything from it though?”

“Yeah, I did” Tyler’s fingers twitched to touch her, but he would never allow himself that, he didn’t deserve it. “Are you really here, Tiggy? I’m afraid I’m dreaming…but I don’t to be dreaming, I want this to be real”

“It could be real, Ty” She caressed his smooth cheek before smiling and sitting down beside him on the damp concrete “Wanna tell me what you’ve learned in life so far?”

But I'd be

Anywhere that you are, that you are

That I'd be

Anywhere that you are, you are

#hook x reader #hook imagine #hook fanfiction #hook aew #masochist writes #tyler senerchia #Spotify

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feralforfrank · 9 months ago

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simon riley x fem!reader

random headcanons bc i cant stop thinking about him

he'll deny he's a pet person, especially when it's cats. that's until you rescue a kitten (joe). you're pretty sure simon loves him more than you.

loves napping. no matter the time and place (well, only if he feels his surroundings are safe enough), he's catching up on sleep, like there's no tomorrow. (ext.1)

simon definitely has a cupboard in the kitchen full of cans and packets of food that can last a long time and a bag under the bathroom sink full of necessities. you poke fun at him, saying that a zombie apocalypse won't happen any time soon. but he disagrees.

"you don't need to buy more peanuts, simon. the cupboard is full, and there's no way the apocalypse will start tomorrow," you say, pushing the heavy cart as simon scans the grocery store shelves.

he suddenly stops, and the cart screeches suddenly, mere centimetres from hitting the back of simon's knees.

he turns to you, his face serious. "better safe than sorry, love."

you look at him, bewildered, but accept the packet of nuts he hands you.

he has a blast watching horror films with you, especially the bad ones.

a) if you get scared easily, his favourite part is the post-film night routine. he'll tease you about being jumpy as hell, shut the light when you're in the bathroom just to hear you screech and call his name in a panic, and scare you by sneaking very quietly (thanks to his military training) in rooms where you're at and scaring the life out of you.

b) if you don't get scared easily, you'll both laugh at the gooey stuff that's supposed to be blood, the exaggerated and dramatic screams, and criticise every part of the film.

"we should be film critics, yeah?" you say between giggles.

"think we'd do a terrible job, lovie."

i firmly believe simon riley likes biscuits with his tea. even better if you are the one making them. there's a specific recipe you start making when the chill of october becomes too much. he doesn't know what you put in them, but remembers when you said you stole them from taylor swift's tumblr.

"oi, love!" he shouts from the kitchen.

you already know what he wants. and why he can't find them. "what is it, si?"

"where're those singer biscuits you made?" you can hear the cupboards opening and shutting.

"the chai cookies? i hid them."

in no time, you hear his footsteps approach the bathroom. you click on your earring as his frame fills the doorway.

"what d'y'mean you hid them?"

"i wanna take some to my mum today, and if i had them out there in plain sight, you'd eaten them all."

"i'd taken two," he grumbles. he knows that's not true. the biscuits are delicious.

"i'll make you more tomorrow, yeah? a whole bowl for you only."

you kiss and tap his cheek, and his lips twitch in a small, triumphant smile.

"can i, at least, take one. before my tea gets cold."

"fine. just one." a feather-light kiss lands on your shoulder. "okay, two."

simon also likes going shopping with you. he likes spending money on you and for you. so when there's an opportunity (usually a party, or rarely a military ball or some fancy shit), he takes you out and tells you to pick whatever you want, no matter the price.

(i think he just likes sitting in the lounge area of the fancy shops and scaring off wandering eyes.)

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost cod x reader #ghost cod #cod fluff #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mwiii #fluff #established relationship #headcanon #simon riley headcanons #naewrites

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mischieffae · 2 months ago

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When I saw you had requests open, I just had to JUMP on the opportunity! I have two ideas, but I'll leave them separately.

Hannibal x (preferably female) reader who also happens to be a serial killer. However, think more Joe Goldberg combined with Amy Dunne vibes. She's got a bad past, but when she moved to Baltimore under a new identity as a lawyer (I just like the irony but she could do any job you feel like) she's very determined to leave that life behind her. To be better.

Hannibal just knows she's not as honest as she portrays herself to be. He's a psychiatrist, after all, and goes digging to figure out what she's hiding. I feel like that type of plot can go two ways, rivals, constantly suspicious of each other, trying to cover up their own tracks before the other catches them (She's 100% slightly scared of him once she figures out he's also a wolf in sheep's clothing, with no intention reform like her) or an unlikely partnership (if Hannibal is persuasive enough), or both!

Agh, ik, it's so plot heavy, but I need to get it out somewhere.

Thank youu

~◇~

// I am so sorry this took so long, I hope you enjoy!! I love how this was already planned for me. ❤️

Imposter

pairing: hannibal x f!reader

warnings: mention of gore, slight mention of non-con, hannibal being a flirtatious psychopath, cat & mouse, mind manipulation

The life you had before was all in the past now, a reminder of what you had almost become yet it still lingered in the back of your mind with its sharp claws. Tap, tap, tap against the hollowness of your skull as if taunting you to return to that depraved place.

Remember what you did ? Those screams of torment as you etched away the victim's last piece of sanity.

You didn't have a knife at the time, only a shard of glass from the bathroom's mirror. & all that blood - oh, how beautiful it painted on alabaster tile flooring, as if you were a painter with a canvas. The smell of copper always tickled your nostrils in the best way, more of the smell emitting with each precise cut you inflicted upon the poor person's body.

The sharp banging of the judge's gavel brought yourself back into the present, sweat slightly beading on your forehead. How long has it been since you had those vivid thoughts? It seemed like a century ago, but in reality it had only been a couple of years. You were determined to start over, start a brand new life with a brand new career. A lawyer, of all jobs. How typical. You wanted to bring justice back into your life, to mask your true intentions in hopes of it completely going away someday.

But perhaps the past wasn't shrouded in darkness.

There was a slip-up of course, not too long after you had your little incident in the court room. A man of foul intentions had followed you home one night after a long day at the office, cat-calling you with each drunken stumble he took in your direction. You tried to ignore him, body tense with each stride of your clicking heels against wet pavement. Perhaps going down one of the alleyways wasn't the best idea, but you had thought you had lost him by the time you took that sharp turn.

Of course such plans did not go accordingly, & the drunkard had found you like a cat waiting to feast upon the frightened mouse. He had found a way to wrap his arms around your trembling frame, a hand lifting to cover your mouth as you attempted to yell your strangled pleas. It was enough to send you over the edge, that little girl who so desperately wanted to change her life now taking a back seat as you began to feel that urge running through your veins.

Your hand dove into your coat's pocket to retrieve a metal pen, fingers wrapping roughly around its base before plunging the device into the poor man's eye socket. A small sigh in content escaped your lips against his sweaty palm when you heard his horrid cry of pain, that sweet sweet sound you had almost forgotten about. Now, it rang through your ears beautifully, his body then slumping to the ground while he held his eye with hitching sobs.

"Please - ....I-I'm sorry... I'm..."

That was all you needed as you then plunged the pen into his skull once more, then another.....and another....until that drunk face was unrecognizable. Until that damn bastard was a pile of filthy flesh upon cold stone. & that smell of copper, it made your skin crawl with delight as you sighed in content.

But it was then as if reality hit you, your body trembling as you gazed downward with rapid gasps of adrenaline. No, no, no...You were good, you were normal again.

You had to see him.

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

Blunt nails tapped against that familiar leather chair with nervousness, your teeth grazing upon your bottom lip as you gazed around Dr. Lecter's extravagant office. He took notice of your hesitance, fingers ceasing to write down his notes while gazing upward with curiosity.

"Something is on your mind..."

A matter of fact statement, your eyes meeting golden hues that you could've sworn began to swirl into a darker shade.

"Work was just -....a lot today."

You hoped your little lie would go unnoticed, however you failed to cover the small patch of blood on the outside of your palm. Hannibal took note of this, licking his lips subtly before continuing.

"It is not work that is on your mind, is it? Something else seems to have your mind hostage."

A gulp formed in your tightening throat, your chapped lips forming into a shaky smile. It wasn't very convincing, & you knew of this. But, how could you inform him of your encounter earlier this evening? You had some suspicions of him, some little doubts that pecked in the corners of your mind from time to time. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, however you could feel that there was something off about your therapist.

Something...more omnious.

"I can assure you, Dr. Lecter, that it was just work today. Nothing more."

His lean frame lifted from his chair with an elegant stride, moving towards his art ridden desk while gliding his fingertips along his drawings.

"That is not what I suspect, judging upon the blood that lingers on your hand."

Shit -... you had forgotten about that little detail, your jaw clenching tightly from his observation. His eyes trail upward with a raise of his brows, those pursed lips forming into a small smile.

A smile? Your heart began to beat wildly in your chest, as if it were about to combust and fly out the window like a caged bird. You couldn't move, a deer frozen in fear as he began to walk towards you with a predatory aura.

"You do not need to hide from me, you do not need to HIDE what you truly desire."

He stops to stand before you on the chair, his body moving to kneel in front of you as if you were a rabbit that was easily startled. A thumb moves to glide gently upon your cheek, resting just below your bottom lip as he stares with interest.

"Have you killed before?"

That word made you gasp in response, fingers clutching the chair's arms with white knuckles. He has FOUND you, he can see you past that broken mask. A single tear runs down your cheek in defeat, a small nod forming while you whisper softly.

".....Yes.."

A satisfied hum sounds from him, a deep tone that makes your skin crawl. He brushes away that fallen tear, not wishing for it to drop upon the floor and go to waste. That hand moves to cup along your jaw in an almost lovingly manner, those haunting eyes finally meeting your teary ones.

"I can help you, little mouse. I can help you overcome your fears. Those voices in your head. If only you would allow me.."

Finally, someone can see the torment you have been dealing with for the past couple of years. Someone who UNDERSTOOD you. A broken sob sounds from you, a quivering hand reaching upward to grasp his wrist tightly, as if he were to disappear like an apparition.

"Please...Please Dr. Lecter..."

He had caught you, those claws sinking into your mind as his smile widened to show pearl teeth.

"You are not alone anymore....not without me."

#hannibal x reader #x reader #reader insert #hannibal lecter #hannibal

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psychotic-nonsense · 1 month ago

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Not sure if this is anything, and feel free to critique or add on or clarify and all that, but...

A few weeks post-Starcourt Steve, absolutely wrecked by the Russians and Billy. He's healing, little by little, but he knows he needs to put his pain aside to help out The Party. Especially Robin, who has not been coping with the trauma well. She's taken to spending the night at Steve's most of the time, and they help each other manage. She's not the best with physical comfort, nor is Steve with verbal comfort, but they're managing.

Yet despite the constant offers of help, Steve always refuses to "ask for too much" and often downplays his pain, forcing a smile to keep anyone from worrying. He's bottling up everything - probably handling it worse than Robin, even though he insists he's used to it and knows how to fix himself. Every day he gets a little worse, and every night he brushes off help.

It's during one of these late nights that disaster finds them again. It's Steve and Robin in his living room, and they're just about falling asleep on the couch when the ground begins rumbling, hard. An earthquake, shaking Hawkins and getting the entire Party in a frenzy. The radios are blaring with the kids' voices and Steve's trying to get Robin to stop screaming into the walkie, when suddenly there's a hole opening up in Steve's living room, and the earthquake stops. Steve and Robin go quiet, and the kids are urging for a response as they all rush to meet up at Steve's.

But he and Robin can't speak, too busy staring at the hole. One that looks way too similar to the Gates... but it glows blue instead of the usual red. Steve, ever the protector, is carefully stepping around the hole to grab a fire poker for defense. The second he does, the Party bursts in, just in time to watch the hole suddenly crack open further, sucking Steve in and closing itself behind him-

As Steve Harrington lands in the bedroom of Post-ST3-release 2019 Eddie Munson.

Eddie's living rough, bunking in his childhood friend Ronnie's basement. An orphan, can't hold a job, in his second senior year of high school purely because he knows he has nothing else to do after it. His only source of comfort so far has been DnD - either the DM hosting he does at the local library for the other poor lost suckers, or the one Netflix show with its elements that has captured his heart.

Eddie's a pretty big Stranger Things fan - it has its faults but is otherwise a really fun and interesting show - but ever since ST2, he's especially been a Steve Harrington fan. He feels like he goes mad just thinking about the implications of what that man has gone through, what all those kids have been through, and how Steve has put aside himself to focus on the kids. How much Steve has changed, and how under appreciated he is.

Since binging all of ST3 the day it released, Eddie's had a field day on breaking down this newest reformation of Steve. He adores Robin - clocked her as a lesbian from episode 1 - and loves that Dustin and Erica have been bringing out his bitchy side, while still keeping him in check. The Russian torture and strange parallels with Billy have made him cry on more than one occasion, and Steve's half-high speech in the bathroom legitimately felt like Steve finally acknowledging his change, even if for but a moment.

Ronnie's teased Eddie way too much about his "obvious crush on Joe Keery" but this feels way too personal for him to just be crushing on an actor. This is Eddie falling for the Fallen King of Hawkins himself, and it's much more embarrassing. Steve Harrington becomes his muse in every form of art; drawing, writing, character inspiration and improvisation. The Duffer brothers aren't the greatest at the rest of the show, but they've damn well got this guy down.

Hell, Eddie was halfway to crossing the last personal barrier to outright obsession (x Reader fanfiction) when the earthquake hit. In hindsight it wasn't the worst thing in the world, but Eddie had never experienced one before. He immediately dove right under his bed, covering his ears and curling up in a ball like a coward ("Nancy Wheeler would be ashamed," his weird ass brain supplies). He hears rumbling, things falling over, wood splintering and the world seemingly cracking apart all around him-

When a body suddenly lands hard on his bed with a loud scream of fear, cutting off as the whatever it is rolls straight off to the floor, and the world gives one final strain before going completely silent.

Terrified, Eddie's eyes are shut tight, cowering as the body on the floor just a foot away from him groans and gasps for air. It takes a sudden hiss of pain for Eddie to finally, carefully, crack one eye open.

Only to come eye to eye, through the gaps of his bedsheets, with the very muse he'd just been thinking of. Steve Harrington.

There's an immediate scramble of panic; Eddie bashing his skull into his bed frame trying to get out and away from the obvious hallucination, while Steve wobbles on his feet to defend himself against this strange humanoid Upside Down monster.

"What are you?! Where am I?!"

"What am- Are- You- No, you're not real- JESUS H. CHRIST MAN, GET THAT AWAY FROM ME!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but you're gonna see how real this is if you don't tell me what's going on!"

"You think I know?! You fell into my room!!"

"Yeah, from your Gate!!"

"WHAT FUCKING GATE- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?"

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!!"

That gets them both to shut up, just staring at each other. Eddie pressed up against the wall in fear with his hands up and out wide, Steve with the fire poker pointed straight at his neck and his hand held up cautiously. Eddie sees it, smells blood in the air, and ignoring everything, reaches out for it. Steve jabs at the air with the poker, but it's halfhearted, his energy clearly draining, too exhausted with the whole situation to try much further. Finally his arm drops, but Eddie doesn't move, watching Steve's face crumple in a way that aches everything inside his heart.

"Where am I...?" Steve pleas, tone just as desperate as the one from the Russian bunker, even when lacking its power.

Eddie fumbles for the words, but eventually just sighs. "Somewhere you wouldn't believe, my friend."

High and complacent on adrenaline and shock, Steve and Eddie just move in silence. Eddie grabs a wet cloth to clean the blood, Steve cutting off a bit of his sweatpants to use as gauze. It's just a gash from falling with the fire poker, nothing drastic, but the two stare at the cut in Steve's palm, easier to see than the one who's hand is on theirs.

Introductions are exchanged when they can finally stop shaking, and Eddie somehow drops the bomb on where and when Steve is, and what his entire existence is to this reality. Steve has a very brief existential panic attack about it, but is strangely comforted by Eddie's confidence about it all - "Even without El's powers, those kids are smart as hell. They'll figure out a way to make their own Gate and get you back home."

Then Steve just spends the next week or two in a reality almost 40 years in the future, where he and his entire existence is a sci-fi TV show. Some funny exchanges I've been thinking of:

Steve: Wait, so we're characters in a show, right? That means we have actors.

Eddie: Oh, uh, yeah, you do...

Steve: ...Think I could see them?

Eddie: Uh- Sure, I guess? Not sure what you're expecting, it's a live action thing, they look just like you.

Steve: Never getting used to your future phone... Huh, Joe Keery? Looks like a cool guy- woah, is that what my hair looks like short??

Eddie: Yup, again, literally just you.

Steve: Funny how we both have the most basic names too. Steve and Joe? Like, look at Dustin's actor, what kind of name is Gaten?

Eddie: Rude, the guy plays your little brother.

Steve: Quit bringing your fake show theories into my actual life.

Eddie: It's true though.

Steve: ...Yeah.

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

(Steve goes crazy after a few days of being locked in, and begs Eddie to take him out to "see the future." While they're walking around town, a group of girls suddenly freak out and rush them)

"It's Joe Keery! Guys, look it's Steve Harrington, from Stranger Things!!"

(Eddie's halfway to panicking, but Steve immediately handles the situation)

Steve: Sorry to disappoint, ladies, not him. Don't worry though, I've been getting that a lot since the show came out.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry! Hope we didn't make you uncomfortable, mister..."

Steve: Mark, and not at all! I get asked this a lot too, but do you girls want a picture? For bragging rights, getting to meet "The Steve Harrington?"

(They agree, Eddie takes it for them, the girls go on their way)

Eddie whispering: That's gonna be everywhere in 5 seconds, I hope you know.

Steve whispering: Eh, it's a crowd my actor didn't have to deal with. Besides, felt pretty good.

Eddie: Familiar experience?

Steve: For a better reason.

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

Steve, showing Eddie's laptop screen open to the FunkoPop website and the Scoops Duo, halfway to tears: They make figurines of me and Robin?

Eddie: Yeah, of all you guys. I've got a little Dustin on my desk.

Steve, beginning to cry from how adorable he finds it: YOU DO?

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

(Ronnie comes back from work early while Steve and Eddie are talking in the living room. Eddie freezes as Steve makes eye contact, and Ronnie just stares)

Ronnie: Um, hi?

Steve: Oh, hey! You must be Eddie's roommate, nice to finally meet you! I'm Mark.

(That allows a breath to finally enter and escape Eddie's throat in a bit of a laugh. Steve's really leaning into this Mark persona)

Ronnie: Ronnie, and likewise... Sorry if I'm acting weird, you're just a really good cosplayer. Thought you were actually Steve for a second.

Steve hesitantly: Nah, just a doppleganger.

Ronnie, shrugging and walking away: Well okay then, I'm way too tired to talk much more. Eds, just keep your nerd shit out of the sink-

Eddie: And stay quiet, yeah yeah, go rest, breadwinner.

(Ronnie goes upstairs, out of earshot)

Steve whispering: What's a cosplayer?

Eddie, suddenly also very tired: Tell you later.

I'm thinking that Eddie had sketchbooks, notebooks, and Word Docs absolutely stuffed full of ST character evaluation, which he immediately hid upon Steve's arrival. Maybe Steve gets bored when Eddie's out for whatever reason, and snoops around. That's when he finds it all crammed at the back of Eddie's closet. The kids, Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Joyce, Hopper, hell Billy and Murray are in the pile. Drawings of them in their adventures, active and mundane alike. Pages upon pages of character description, Eddie's handwriting gushing about the parts of the show and characters he loves, hates, wishes was fixed, all of it.

But the part that gets Steve is one specific sketchbook and notebook, both dubbed the Steven Soliloquy. It's the same type of information as before, but only about him, and it's filled to the brim. Eddie talking about his development, his change of heart, the complete shift that Nancy and the Upside Down and the kids allowed him to have. The affects of his trauma, and how much he stuffed it down in favor of everyone else. Talked about his relationships, ones he cherishes, loathes, never thought of or never got the chance to make. Talked about "AUs," alternative realities where he got everything he ever wanted. Eddie's words, his sketches, devolve into adoration-fueled envy, wishing he could be near such an amazing man, that he was strong enough to be such an amazing man. How much his heart aches for Steve.

And if this were a normal situation, Steve would be uncomfortable, creeped out. But knowing the context of it all, Steve can't help but be enamored. That his family's journey, his entire story of survival - even when fictional to Eddie - is so valued makes it all feel a little more worth it. That there was someone out there during all of their terror, rooting for their victory, crying with their pain, screaming with their fears, understanding them because he lived through it all right beside them.

Eddie finds Steve in his room later that day, surrounded by those books. Staring at what Eddie considers his WIP magnum opus; a half-finished colored pencil recreation of the Last Supper with the entire Party, including all of the people they lost, happy and healthy. Eddie's two seconds from apologizing for how creepy it all must be - seeing how many of those books are open - but then he sees the tears in Steve's eyes. Gratitude and adoration and care, all bundled up and very suddenly staring right at him with the widest smile he's seen.

They talk about it. Eddie finally admits his minor obsession with the show, and how much they've helped him come to terms with being a self-dubbed loser. He honestly gushes way too much about what he owes to them about his life, but Steve listens to it all with complete adoration. At the end of it, Steve asks Eddie about the possibility that they've been adamantly ignoring for Steve's entire stay: actually watching Stranger Things.

And that's how they spend their last week. Starting from season 1, they sit in the living room and binge the entire thing. Steve learns an entirely new perspective about his family's adventures, not only from the show's canon, but from Eddie's theories and rants in between monumental moments. Eddie holds his hand during the scenes that focus on his worst nightmares; the Demogorgan in the Byler home, the breakup, his fight with Billy, the Russians. Steve provides his perspective on how he felt during it all, finally admitting to the pain he's gone through instead of just focusing on the others hoping it'll all go away.

Not sure where exactly it goes from here. Maybe some codependency grows between them. Maybe Steve falls a little in love. Maybe they just stay friends, the only ones who understand each other aside from their Platonic Soulmates.

Maybe, when another earthquake finally hits, opening up a Gate in Ronnie's backyard, Steve and Eddie finally must go their separate ways. Eddie promising to keep watching over them from across the realm, Steve promising to make a happy ending for their story.

Or maybe, Steve can't help but see what little Eddie has, how special Eddie actually is, and offer to bring him along. Into the very show he loves so much. Maybe Eddie convinces Ronnie that he'll be okay, swearing to be entertaining should he join the show in an important way, and making her swear that if he doesn't survive to bring him back in as much fanfiction as she can write. Maybe Eddie enters Hawkins, Indiana, and becomes a bit self aware about being in a TV show. It takes a while for everyone to warm up to the future man - and for Eddie to get used to Midwestern US in the 80s - but he becomes a close member of the Party quite easily. Maybe his involvement in season 4, his death, is avoided, and maybe it's not.

But his adoration for Steve Harrington never goes away. Not in canon, or in fiction.

#WHAT WAS THIS #/pos i just had a dumb idea and suddenly after three days there's this thing #i blame the billford that's taken over my tumblr #i do like the idea of eddie becoming like a deadpool sorta character - being all self aware during season 4 like #“wonder how the cali plot is doing.. no way the duffers would just abandon el and will like that”#he tries so hard not to spoil that hopper is alive too - he didn't show steve the after credits so no one but him knows #after that i still don't know #feel free to run with it bc i know i sure have #been coming up with dumb ideas for both Steve/Mark in 2019 reality and Eddie in 1986 ST #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things au #just a lil hint at #steddie #steve x eddie

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