#so i was like yeah sure we can do thanksgiving here

[justalittlebluetiefling]

Saying you can host Thanksgiving when you're the planner in your relationship and you work in a retail-adjacent career is really just digging your own grave.

[loserboysandlithium]

Let’s Play Pretend: ex boyfriend Eddie one shot

Minors dni, angst, I haven’t done any angst in a while so I’m sorry if this is shit 😂 I needed a good practice run and hopefully someone will enjoy it 🖤🖤🖤

*******

Okay, I can do this. Just breathe.

Thanksgiving. Your mom expected Eddie to be there. He’s been there by your side for the past three years. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her about the breakup. It was too hard. You still couldn’t truly wrap your head around it. How did we end up here?

Eddie pulls uncomfortably at the collar of his sweater, borrowed from the one and only Steve Harrington, as you both stand at the door of your mom’s house.

“You didn’t have to wear that.. she knows you Eddie.” you speak for the first time since he picked you up.

“Just wanted to look nice, ya know? Not like the asshole who broke your heart…” Eddie’s voice trails off as his gaze falls to his feet. His big black combat boots a stark contrast to his cream colored sweater. How does he manage to pull even this off?

“We said we weren’t gonna talk about it, Eddie. You promis-”

“Yeah, yeah I know. I’m sorry. I just- this is weird okay?” he mumbles.

He’d agreed, semi reluctantly, to play pretend for one night. Put on a happy face for your mom. Just one night. One dinner. Surely you could make it through, right?

You hear footsteps behind the door and take a deep breath as you reach over, sliding your hand into Eddie’s. The simple gesture making your heart ache. His calloused fingers, the chill of his rings, so familiar to you once. You hear the top lock click just as Eddie’s brown eyes meet yours.

He gives you a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ready, pumpkin?” he whispers, his old nickname for you suddenly sending you into a spiral. Fuck, pull it together. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

The door swings open, revealing your mother and you smile big, probably too big in an attempt to hide your true emotions. Your mind is swirling, flashbacks of you and Eddie filling your thoughts as you try to push them away.

“Are y’all ready to eat?” Your mother’s sweet southern accent easing your racing thoughts just a bit. You nod, releasing Eddie’s hand to embrace your mother.

“I know my boy is ready, and I made your favorite.” your mom smiles warmly as she takes Eddie in her arms next. You watch as he hugs her, squeezing tight. He’s always loved your mom. Always felt right at home. Soaking up the attention she gave him every time he was over.

“Thanks, Ma.” he answers softly, clinging just a little tighter than usual before pulling away. His eyes look glossy. Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea.

He swallows hard, glancing your way once more before he excuses himself to the bathroom, the tear falling down his cheek only spotted by you.

Your mom ushers you into the kitchen as you begin to grab the dishes, carrying them to the large wooden table in the dining room. She’s rambling as usual, “I’ve missed you, baby.” “How are things?” “Eddie looks handsome as ever.” “Is that Steven’s sweater?” “Anything new?” Her last question hits hard as she wiggles her ring finger playfully.

You give her a small smile and a fake giggle as you shake your head no. “Mom, stop.” you groan.

“It’s gonna happen, baby. I just know it.” she reassures, leaning down to kiss your cheek. There was a time where that was all you wanted. You thought about it constantly. What ring would he get? How would he propose? The fantasies had run rampant in your mind. He was the one. He was supposed to be the one.

“Everything looks incredible.” Eddie’s voice appears suddenly from behind you shaking you from your thoughts. Then you feel his touch. His hand resting on your lower back as he pulls you into him slightly.

It’s all pretend. It’s all pretend. It’s all pretend.

He’s so close. You can smell his cheap cologne mixed with cigarettes and weed. Your favorite combo. You allow yourself to lean in a little closer, your eyes shutting softly as you brush against his chest.

His heart is fucking pounding.

The oven beeps and your mom claps her hands excitedly as she announces that the turkey is done. She disappears into the kitchen, leaving you and Eddie alone for the first time since you’ve arrived.

“You doing okay?” he whispers, gently titling your head to look up at him.

No.

“M’ fine.” you reply instead. You can’t look away. His eyes drawing you in as always. His pretty lips. His brow furrowed slightly. He’s so fucking close.

“I’m not, if it makes you feel any better.” he says bluntly, his eyes still on yours.

“Eddie..”

“Okay kiddos. Time to eat.” your mom sings, placing the small turkey on the table as you all take your seats.

****

You spend the night playing along. Eddie making his usual jokes, your mom smiling and laughing, talking about memories of the past few years. Eddie’s hand rests on your thigh under the table, making your body tingle.

“God, I remember that.” Eddie chuckles, his genuine laugh something you haven’t heard in so long. Now when you talk, it’s always a fight. Screaming and crying. Or just another hate fuck. But it was never just that. And you both knew it.

You look over at his pretty smile, his eyes look light, his body relaxed. Everything felt almost normal again. But it isn’t real. None of it is real anymore.

After dinner, you hug your mom goodbye. Eddie kissing her cheek softly as he promises to see her soon.

Then you’re in his van. The light atmosphere fading back into your bleak reality as he drives you home. He tries to make small talk. Even tries to keep the earlier conversations going. Memories of your good times. They were the best times. But you have to stay strong.

He pulls into your drive, shutting of the van, landing you in a uncomfortable silence. “I should go.” you say quickly before he takes you off guard, leaning down to kiss you. You shove him off, doing your best to control your emotions.

“I just thought maybe we could..”

“I can’t, Eddie. Not tonight. I’m sorry.” you mumble, grabbing your bag from the floorboard of his van.

“Yeah.. yeah okay. Only when you want some dick, right?” he grumbles, his response making all of your feelings from the night explode out of you.

“Did tonight mean nothing to you? Did you not feel it? Do I mean nothing to you?”

“Of course I fucking felt it! My heart feels like it’s being ripped in two. Do you think that was fun for me? Playing pretend? A happy fucking family? I miss you. I miss us. You know that!” Eddie shouts, running his fingers through his dark curls.

“That isn’t fair.” you grit your teeth, begging for the tears to stay in place but it’s too late. They stream down your face in little rivers, blurring your vision as you try to compose yourself but it’s no use.

“I know I fucked up…” he starts and you just shake your head.

“I can’t do this Eddie. Please don’t do this.” you beg, your heart already shattering into a thousand pieces.

His firm hands cup your face, forcing you to look into his eyes. Those pretty eyes. His face matches yours, heartbroken, tears falling onto his chest, silently begging you to give in. To take him back. To forgive and forget.

You close the gap in between you, pressing your lips to his, tasting the salt from his tears as you kiss him gently.

He was supposed to be the one.

You pull back, resting your forehead against his for just a moment before wiping your tears.

“I can’t, Eddie. I’m sorry.”

[endlessthxxghts]

Thankful

no outbreak!Joel Miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈1.8k

Summary: You're trying to prep for Thanksgiving dinner when Joel asks if he can pull you away for a minute.

Warnings: Implied established relationship. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Oral sex (f recieving). Edging (briefly). Squirting. Desperate!Joel. Pleasure Dom!Joel. An extremely thankful, pussy drunk Joel...✨Mirrors✨! Cumming untouched (Joel's a bed humping mess, what can I say?). Pictures are for aesthetic purposes; no physical description of reader.

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! Here's a little Thanksgiving drabble with a domesticated, pre-outbreak Joel for y'all. I left it kinda open, so you can view him as a boyfriend or husband, entirely up to you, but y'all do live together! Anyhow, if you are celebrating Thanksgiving, please be sure to acknowledge the land that belonged to the Indigenous people first. I say this because we can enjoy Thanksgiving and the general themes it stands for while decolonizing the white-washed version. All my love! Hope you enjoy Joel being a thankful, horny menace.👹

MASTERLIST

“Happy Thanksgivin’, baby,” Joel says, sliding up behind you, his big arms around your waist caging you between him and the kitchen counter. He places a kiss on your neck. 

You smile in his embrace, loving the warmth radiating from his body. “Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, handsome.” 

“Do you have a minute to step away?” He asks, voice low. 

“Depends, baby,” you say, knowing you might know where this is headed. “Gotta finish prepping the sweet potato, so I can throw it in the oven. I can step away then?”

“This is for dinner later tonight at your parents, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah. Why?” You turn your head up to peer at him. He already has a big fat smirk on his face. 

“We have so much time, baby,” he kisses you once more. “I just need you for a minute.”

“Joel,” you say sternly, though you feel your knees already buckling.

His hands are at your waist, guiding you to the kitchen sink and guiding you to wash your hands. As soon as you’re done, he’s twisting you in his hold, so your body is flushed with his. Your neck angled back to look him in the eyes. Within seconds, his hands are on either side of your face, lips smashing into yours, tongue immediately darting out to tangle with yours. His hips push harder against you, and you can feel his hard length against your lower belly. 

Too lost at his sudden horniness, you don’t realize his hands leave your face and make their way to your thighs. He pulls away from you momentarily, letting out a breathless up as he taps the outside of your thigh. You lift your legs up to wrap around his waist. 

He’s walking you to your shared bedroom, lips still on yours. As he reaches the threshold of the room, he tells you to close your eyes. 

“Why?”

“Darlin’, just do it,” he says, amusement in his tone at your hard-headedness. One of his favorite things about you.

A small fine leaves your lips, and soon he’s throwing you on your bed, your body doing a little bounce at the fluffiness of your mattress. You squeal at being airborne, loving how he always manhandles you so perfectly. 

Your eyes are still closed even though you’re dying to open them, and you start to feel Joel unzip your jeans, kissing every inch of your now-exposed lower belly. Once your bottoms are completely off, he settles himself between your legs, putting your thighs up onto his broad shoulders, keeping you completely open to him. 

“Open, baby,” he says, kissing the insides of your thighs.

You peer through your lashes slowly, but then your nervousness fades. Nothing looks different. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Until you look at Joel’s hand wrapped around your thigh. His one finger is pointing up to the ceiling. You look up. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

You look up and see your reflection staring back down at you. A complete view of Joel’s body between your legs, his broad back on display with his cute ass you love so much. Your jaw is on the floor. 

“You like?” you hear him ask, a bit nervous. 

“When?” you ask, still a bit shocked (and crazily aroused) at your room’s new feature. 

“You were so busy in the kitchen all day,” he responds, “‘N I remembered our conversation a month ago, and I’ve been wantin’ to do it since, but never had the chance.”

You look back down to his own eyes. “I bought everythin’ for it after the conversation, too,” he adds. “Thought I’d make myself useful today in the way I know best.”

You think back to that conversation. 

“Baby,” you yell from the couch.

“Hm?” he grumbles from his place in the kitchen.

“How would you feel,” you pause for a second, easing your own nerves about your request. Sure, Joel is just as freaky as you are, but it’s a natural human reaction to be unsure about new things. “About putting mirrors in our room?”

He’s in the living room within seconds. 

“Mirrors?”

“Yes.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Mirrors where?”

You look at him for a minute. “...above the bed.” 

His eyes flash something dark. 

“Okay,” he says. 

“Okay?” you ask, shocked at his quick agreement.

“Okay.” You swear you see the one side of his mouth flip up in a smirk as he walks back to the kitchen. 

You reach your hand down to caress his cheekbone, wanting nothing more than to kiss him but waiting because you know what he’s about to do. “I fucking love it,” you tell him. 

“Good,” he says. His eyes look back down to your glistening cunt. He’s about to taste you when you speak up again. 

“Wait.”

He looks back up to you. 

“Take your shirt off. Wanna see you,” you say with a smirk as you point back up to the mirror above you. 

He sits back up on his haunches, a smirk identical to yours spread across his face. He unbuttons his flannel slowly as he maintains eye contact with you. What a tease, you think. Two could play that game. 

As soon as his chest is in view, you let out a little exaggerated moan, “Oh, fuck, baby.”

Your hand that was resting besides you moves to your chest. Slowly, you drag your fingers down your sternum, down your belly. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

His eyes are watching your hand like a hawk. He speeds up his unbuttoning process, but only by a millisecond, trying to keep his act and not fall under your siren spell. 

Your fingers reach the top of your mound, coursing through the patch of hair down there. You shift your hips for added effect. As he gets to his last two buttons, the two pads of your fingers make their way to your clit, circling soft and slow, pulling the softest but neediest of moans from you. “Fuck, baby,” you drag out, pained. You bring your fingers lower, dipping into your wetness. You pump in and out of yourself for a few moments, letting him hear how wet you are. “See what you do to me, baby?”

“Fuck,” he growls out, the brown of his eyes completely gone. His act is done for as he rips off his flannel, the last button flying somewhere with a soft clack landing. He’s back between your legs at an instant, his hand grabbing at your wrist and bringing it up to his mouth, sucking at the slick on your fingers. His quickness mixed with his roughness sends you in a frenzy, a lewd gasp leaving your mouth at his actions. 

He releases your hand and his one hand situates itself at the top of your ass, angling your hips more forward, putting your cunt directly in line with his mouth. His other arm situates itself over your belly. 

He licks a wet stripe through your seam using the flat of his tongue, and you swear you saw Heaven flash through his eyes. “God, ya taste so fuckin’ good,” he says. 

He places an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, pulling off of you with suction. Your hips try to chase him for more, but the hold he has on you has you going nowhere. “This right here is what I’m fuckin’ thankful for,” he whispers at your pussy before he completely dives like a man starved. Like it’s his Thanksgiving meal. 

His actions are focused on your sobbing entrance right now, his tongue lapping up your juices and entering your fluttering hole every chance he gets. The deeper he fucks his tongue into you, the more his thick, hooked nose nudges at your clit, providing the perfect amount of pleasure that sends you screaming. 

“Fuck, Joel-!” you yell out. “Please, don’t stop, just like that, baby, please!” Your back tries to arch as much as it can with his heavy arm weighing you down. He opens up his eyes, looking up to check on you. A smile forms as he licks at you: your head thrown back in pleasure, eyes tightly shut. He keeps his exact pace and pressure, pulling you to the very edge just like you so sweetly asked for. Then, he’s pulling off of you. 

Your eyes shoot open, immediately searching for Joel’s. You’re thrashing against his hold. “Baby, no, please,” you whine in frustration. “I was so close, please.”

He points back up to the mirror. “Don’t let my efforts go to waste, baby,” he says with a condescending inflection. “You said you wanted to watch me. So, watch. Or I’ll stop.”

You whimper at his words, nodding your head frantically, babbling to appease him. “Yes, baby, yes, I promise. I’ll keep my eyes open. Promise. Please, baby, please,” you beg.

Your words leave your tongue as his returns to the place you need him most. He angles your hips just slightly higher, giving him the perfect position to put all of his wet muscle into your pussy as his nose perfectly hits your already sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hands fly to his curls at the contact, your eyes threatening to roll back in pleasure. 

You use all your strength to bring your eyes up to the mirror, and the sight of his back muscles flexing and twitching with every movement he makes has the fire in your core burning brighter. The next thing you notice is what sends you over the edge. His hips are rutting into the mattress, easing his hardness as though he’s a dog in heat. The thought of his desperation for you — his primal crave for you — that ends you. 

You’re nearly ripping his hair out of his scalp as your eyes clamp shut, a stream of moans and gasps for air fill the room as you soak his entire face with your slick. At your finish, he’s moaning into you, and you can feel his body begin to vibrate. You open your eyes as best as you can, and you can see his hips are still rocking, weak and shaky. 

Fuck. 

He came. 

He looks up from your pussy, the bottom half of his face soaked with a devilish grin gracing his features. He looks more fucked out than you, and if you’re remembering your tiny glimpse of your reflection as you came, you also look utterly fucked. 

He wipes the wetness of his face on your thigh only to lick it all back up, sucking a few marks to bloom later tonight. 

He places one last kiss to your clit, causing you to yelp in overstimulation. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, as if he’s reminiscing about the things he just did to you. “I’m fuckin’ thankful,” he says as he heads to the bathroom to grab a cloth to clean you up. 

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

[wandaslittlebird]

Professor!Wanda Headcanons

I typically don’t write professor/student, but you’ll have to forgive me, I’m experiencing a moment of weakness.

Professor Maximoff was, by no means a well liked professor. Her class was infamously difficult, and most of her students found her cold.

You, however, grasp the subject matter surprisingly well. That never stopped you from coming by her office to “further your studies.”

She liked it when you came by, she told you. “It feels like I’m in here all the time. And no one comes to my office hours anyway. It gets a little dull in here with just me.”

Her office was simply decorated with only a single chair in the corner for students to sit, but as it started to become a regular hang out for you, a nice loveseat mysteriously appeared.

It got to the point where you were talking to her almost every day. You came in in between all your classes, lounging on her loveseat and getting some work done.

Whenever you complained of being hungry, or simply wanting a nice treat for yourself, she handed you her phone, open with DoorDash and her credit card information already loaded in.

She’s started to get very possessive of you. She sees how the other students and professors look at you. She just wants to keep you safe, she tells herself.

But whenever you have a one on one with another professor, she can’t help the way her body tenses and her blood pressure spikes. She’s always sure to stop by to inform you that after your meeting is over, she’s bought you your favorite lunch in her office. Better not wait too long. It’ll get cold.

She starts making comments when your clothes when your shirt collars hit too low and your jeans had too many rips. “I should dress code you, you know. You’re lucky I like you.” Over time, you amass a decent collection of very expensive blazers from the days you come in in something she deems too revealing.

In her office, however, you’re allowed to wear as little as you wish. Which is convenient because it’s starting to get very hot in there for some reason. She can stand the heat if it means getting to watch you do your work in an undershirt.

When she asks what you’re doing for the Thanksgiving holiday and you shrug and tell her nothing, she’s all too quick to jump on the opportunity. “You can come over to my place. It’ll just be me. We can make a turkey. Come on it’ll be fun.”

Thanksgiving break bleeds into Christmas break as well. And her guest room bleeds into her bedroom. Her bed is just so much more comfortable. And it’s a California king. The two of you are practically sleeping in different time zones.

Late one night, you hear her whisper “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” you whisper back.

“Will you still come to my office? Next semester? Even though you won’t be in my class anymore?” She asks, almost anxiously.

“Of course,” you respond. “I really enjoy being around you. Even outside of you… being my professor and everything.”

She smiles, but you couldn’t see it so well in the dark. “Good,” she said. “That’s good. I like being around you as well.”

She inches towards you nervously, but you reassure her when you start to move towards her as well. She wraps her arms around you while you curl into her chest. And you fall asleep in her arms, for the first time.

[scoobydoodean]

Hi im a samgirl and i dont mind if others feel differently about this but if you are interested in a samgirl perspective, the short story to sam's allegorical queerness is that sam grew up feeling fundamentally different from his family. He felt that there was something dirty or unclean about himself which is how a lot of marginalized queer children feel growing up. It's not that queerness itself is monstrous but that society and the patriarchal family unit will cast queerness as the monstrous Other, which is why monstrosity is a pretty common queer allegory.

I keep getting asks about queer Sam and I'm not sure exactly why, other than people maybe assume I have a strong opinion about it. The simple truth is that I just don't find what's said about it compelling so it doesn't interest me. I have no issue with other people exploring it and don't have any desire to ruin anyone's fun. It's just that I don't personally see it when I dig deeper than the surface level of "he felt different" and examine why and exactly what Sam actually wanted and why he felt that way. I will get into that here to an extent I guess because I was asked in another piece of mail what my opinions were, but I don't intend it as an "argument" to start a fight or to dismantle anyone else's perception—just an explanation of my personal lack of interest in this particular type of meta.

First, I don't think "Sam grew up feeling fundamentally different from his family" works for me as a queer meta when the reason Sam felt "fundamentally different" was that—according to his own early framing—he was the normal one trapped in a family of freaks who wanted him to be a freak like them.

Sam says in 1.08 that he felt different from Dean and John, but when we read on to see why, he says it's because he wanted to play soccer instead of being a child soldier.

SAM Because I didn't wanna bowhunt or hustle pool - because I wanted to go to school and live my life, which, to our whacked-out family, made me the freak. DEAN Yeah, you were kind of like the blonde chick in The Munsters.

For people too young to get "the blonde chick in The Munsters", Dean is referring to Marilyn Munster, who was the one "normal" person in a family of monsters in a 1960s sitcom.

In childhood flashbacks in 4.13, Sam refuses to fight Dirk at first even though he could easily best him using the skills he learned from their father.

YOUNG DEAN That's right, you don't. You could have torn him apart. So why didn't you? YOUNG SAM Because I don't want to be the freak for once, Dean. I want to be normal.

In both situations, Sam views his family and what they do as freakish and wants to distinguish himself as the one normal one trapped in a family of monsters who is at threat of becoming like them by pure association and family pressure.

YOUNG SAM Yeah, my, aah -- my dad's a mechanic. So I have to be a mechanic, too. MR. WYATT Do you want to go in the family business, Sam? YOUNG SAM No one's ever asked me that before. MR. WYATT Well? YOUNG SAM More than anything, no.

In 5.16 Dark Side of the Moon, one of Sam's greatest childhood memories is getting to sit down for Thanksgiving dinner in a normal, upper middle class household instead of sitting around with "A bucket of extra-crispy and Dad passed out on the couch."

In 1.01, he says he wants to be nothing like his family. He says he is normal unlike them when Dean is telling him they're the same:

DEAN You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are. SAM And who's that? DEAN You're one of us. SAM No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.

Sam sees the upbringing that he has in common with Dean as something almost... humiliating—to the point that he plans to lie to Jess forever about how he was raised and about his family (1.01).

All of this to say... when the queer allegory I'm being sold is that a guy is queer because he wants to go to college, get married, have 2.5 kids, go no contact with his brother (because Dean isn't normal like him?), and lie about his family to his friends because the idea of them knowing he didn't grow up normal is embarrassing... I don't feel like I'm reading a queer allegory. I'd be more likely to think that if anything, I'm reading a comedy from the POV of "the token straight" who initially functions (in the Pilot) as the "normal" character to introduce the "normal" audience to an "abnormal" world in a relatable, palatable way.

That said, when we embrace the fact that the Winchesters are a family of freaks, there is an easy counterpoint here which is that Sam's attitude in the beginning of the series represents being closeted and desperately trying to assimilate with normal society and be perceived as just like everybody else... and his freak family is in the way. In this case, Sam knows deep down that he is like his family (i.e. queer) but desperately wishes he wasn't so that he could fit in. Given that I'm a big believer in Sam being a hunter through and through despite his occasional denials, I find this much more compelling than the argument that Sam feeling othered in his family because he sees himself (at least at first) as the one normal one makes him queer.

*One of you shaking me back and forth*

"But PK—WHAT ABOUT THE DEMON BLOOD?!?!"

Yeah yeah yeah. While it doesn't start out that way, eventually, Sam does reflect on his childhood and see himself as Megamind instead of Marilyn Munster. This is retroactive though (in my opinion. I do not actually believe Sam could "sense" his dormant powers) after finding out that Azazel dropped blood into his mouth when he was a baby. Instead of feeling like the normal one in a family of freaks, Sam starts to feel like the biggest freak in the family, and Dean's "I'm a freak too" suddenly feels like platitudes. Dean—whose calls Sam didn't pick up for years—starts to seem like the normal one—the good one—between them. Dean is the hero character, the righteous man, the sword of heaven... and Sam thinks in his worst moments that he is someone Hero!Dean should be duty bound to kill (2.11). These are all feelings that (again—in my opinion) develop later. I talk about Sam's feelings of otherness and why he actually had those feelings and how I think the demon blood erroneously comes into play as an explanation for his insecurities here.

I think it probably also makes sense to mention here that the idea that Sam was treated as a monster by his family is very very overstated by portions of fandom. I'm not saying Sam never had reason to feel different or othered or unloved or neglected—he absolutely did (as did Dean). I am saying that people like to write about things that never actually happened when they talk about how Sam was treated growing up. Sam felt different from his family because John let Dean start hunting when he was younger than Sam, then he felt different because he wanted to play soccer and go to school while John wanted him to hunt, and because he thought Dean enjoyed being a parentified child and being raised like a soldier and Sam didn't. Retroactively, Sam feels different when he finds out he has powers. These do not develop until he is an adult, and it is never indicated to us that John knew about any of this when Sam was growing up—much less treated him differently growing up because of it. Retroactively, Sam believes Dean sees him as a freak for having visions even though Dean repeatedly treats his visions as no big deal and psychics are an accepted and trusted group within the hunter community (see: Missouri, Pam, Fred). Retroactively, Sam feels different because he was fed blood as a baby. He did not know this until he was an adult, and neither did Dean, as far as we know, neither did John. Sam never believes that Dean would act on John's last whispered command (that again—does not transpire until Sam is an adult) to the point that he repeatedly tries to guilt Dean into promises to follow through and carry out John's will. Retroactively, Sam feels like a freak in season 4 because Sam chooses to drink a completely different demon's blood of his own free will and develop a completely new power set and Dean doesn't think it's a good thing.

TL;DR Sam did not grow up being treated as the monstrous other by his dad and brother. He grew up as an understandably rebellious kid whose dad was a neglectful asshole and a drill sergeant, and he hated being dragged from place to place with no say. He felt different because he stood in contrast to a brother who tried his best to keep the peace because experience taught Dean that refusing to obey would get people killed (1.18), John would send Dean away if Dean gave him lip (14.12), and Dean felt he had to be there to take care of Sam and John (1.06).

More or less, these are the reasons I don't find the queer Sam metas I have stumbled across particularly compelling (along with—imo—Jared's lack of romantic chemistry with other men). At the same time, people seeing Sam as queer or not queer doesn't bother me. I am not trying to "take away" that interpretation from anyone else (as if I even could). I'm just not interested.

[nctsplug02]

johnny + sexting/videocalling when he's away on tour?? 🤒🤒🤒

Happy Thanksgiving! j.suh

GENRES: fluff, smut, phone sex, idol x non-celeb fem reader!

WARNINGS: phone sex.

the dinner you cooked an hour and a half ago was getting colder and colder by the minute but you were too drunk to even eat what you’d made.

wine and cooking dinner did not mix well, especially when you’re a light weight!

RING RING!

you lift your head off the counter and scrub your face with a sigh. “what time is it?”

you reach and grab your phone, hitting the green button. “hello?” silence. “hello?” you look at the screen with barely open eyes. “oh, oops.” you giggle to yourself and swipe the screen until it shows you’ve picked up.

“yes, hello?” you put the speaker to your ear and rub your eyes.

“baby!” you wince and yank the phone away from your ear. “shit!” you hiss and rub your ear, looking at the screen to see your husband with his face up close.

it was a facetime call not an actual call.

“hellooo,” johnny says into the mic. “did i wake you up?” he pulls his face away and raises an eyebrow.

“just a little bit. i closed my eyes for five minutes… that’s all.” you smile and set your phone down against the bottle of wine.

“what were you doing before you knocked out?” you giggle and shake your head. “alright, i didn’t knock out. i only closed my eyes for a good five minute, i swear. but, i did a little bit of cooking and had a few glasses of wine while waiting for your call.”

johnny rests his phone on something and sits back on the beige couch. “what about you, handsome? finished with the concert, i see.” you rub the running mascara from under your eyes.

“mhm, i just got out of the shower. couldn’t stop thinking about you. i’m sorry i can’t be there for thanksgiving, my love.” johnny manspreads and sighs with a pout.

“i—it’s fine, baby.” you clear your throat and move your eyes back to johnnys face. “i’m just thankful that you’re with me spiritually and virtually.”

“spiritually?” johnny chuckles in a confusing tone. “yes, although you’re not here physically, i can feel your presence all around the house.”

“you sure it ain’t a ghost, baby?” johnny laughs when your face changes into a grumpy one. “shut up, don’t scare me like that!” you look around and hug yourself.

johnny laughs while shaking his head, his hand rubbing his jaw. “i was just kidding, my love.”

KNOCK KNOCK!

“room service,” johnny sits up. “looks like my dinner’s here.” he leaves the frame for a good two minutes before coming back.

you watch as johnny sets up the coffee table in front of him. “what’d you order for dinner, babe?” johnny pulls the top cover and reveals a juicy, thick steak. “steak,” he sets the top cover aside. “mashed potatoes and roasted, salted green beans on the side. all that topped off with some red wine.”

you moan and grab your phone, twirling yourself around hopping off the stool. “i wanna show you what i made for thanksgiving.”

“ouu, yeah! i’m excited and a bit sad to see what i’m missing out.” you giggle and walk towards the stove. “it’s really nothing. but, i didn’t want to cook a whole turkey since it’s just me so, i decided to go for something we usually don’t cook for thanksgiving.”

you reveal what’s sitting in your pot and johnny let’s out a horrified gasp. “what?! does it look bad?!” you turn the camera back to you.

“no, baby! i’m just… you cook seafood while i’m gone?!” you laugh and bite the tip of your finger. “well, i didn’t want turkey and mashed potatoes so, i went with what i was craving.”

“ugh, you’re gonna have to make that again but when i get back, please.” johnny groans. “i promise, baby.”

you put the top cover back on the pot and you go back to the stool. “i just brought a plate over to miss hapkins next door. she was telling me a few weeks ago that since her family wouldn’t be able to travel to her, she wasn’t going to do thanksgiving.”

johnny coos at you and tilts his head. “that’s what i love about you, baby. you’re so kindhearted and caring. i love that you decided to include miss hapkins in our thanksgiving.”

“but, now i really don’t wanna eat my steak anymore.” johnny chuckles and sighs. “i miss your cooking, babe.”

“it’s just two more weeks, john. just two more and then home meals are back.” you pick up your wine glass and the wine bottle. “just like you, i’m also having red wine.”

“1869?” you hum and set the bottle down after pouring it near the rim. “you bought that without me?” he whines and you just laugh. “i was gonna save it but… hey, i deserve a treat sometimes too.”

“of course you do, baby. always.” johnny actually picks up his fork and steak knife, cutting off a sliver of the juicy meat.

johnny holds up his piece and tilts his head so he’s in frame. “happy thanksgiving, my love.” he says.

“yes, happy thanksgiving, baby.” you hold up your wine glass, clinking the glass on your phone before taking a sip.

the sweet, rich taste of red wine melting down your throat.

“mmm,” you smack your lips and set your wine glass down. “how’s the steak, baby?” johnny nods with long hums, his eyes shutting as he takes in all the flavors. “it’s perfect. it’s juicy, flavorful, thick but melts on your tongue—mmm,” johnny sighs and cuts himself another piece.

you grab your phone, glass of wine, bottle of wine and you head to the living room.

“although,” you hum. “i prefer the way you make our steak over this.” you giggle and seat yourself on the love sack, setting the bottle of wine on the ground.

you hold up your glass again. “two more weeks, john. we can wait it out.” you take a sip.

johnny groans, “you know what else is in two more weeks?” you hum and ask, what. “your ovulation week.” your cheeks heat up. “once i get home, i’m not holding back, baby.” johnny shoves the meat into his mouth and chews.

“i am not drunk enough for this.” you laugh and shake your head. “what, you don’t wanna have a baby with me?”

“i’d love to have your baby but… i want to right now.” you could feel your panties dampen.

the thought of johnny fucking you full of his baby got you off. him going at you so many rounds that your swollen cunt is oozing out his cum. his slender fingers pushing his cum back in while whispering to you that there was no such thing as wasting good stuff.

“aw, baby.” johnny coos and sets down his knife and fork with a thud. “but, just like you said, two more weeks.”

you roll your eyes and chug the rest of your wine. “babe, you don’t even know how wet i am right now. i’m literally dripping all over our love sack.”

“i don’t believe you,” johnny sits back and groans. “how can i prove it to you?”

you knew exactly how johnny wanted you to prove it and you were trapping yourself in it.

“show me your pretty pussy and let me be the judge of how wet you are.” you bite your lip, eyes moving down to his now visible bulge. “my eyes are up, baby.” you giggle and move your eyes up.

“c’mon, take off your pants and show me how wet i make you.”

the tone of his voice is like a spell, your shorts and panties are pooled on the ground and your body is twisted in a way where johnny can see your pussy.

“fuck, y/n.” johnny growls lowly and cries out. “i wish i was home right now. i’d take you so hard on that love sack.”

“move yourself to the couch and put your phone down, baby. prop it up with the candles on the coffee table.” you listen to johnnys directions and you move yourself to the black couch, propping up your phone with the cherry red and white candles.

“that’s perfect, baby—fuck, y/n!” johnny grabs himself through his sweats.

“touch yourself, baby.” johnny undoes the strings of his sweats. “i wanna see you play with yourself.”

you lay back so that you’re barely propped up with your knees to your chest and arm between your legs. your fingers massaging your clit and ever so then dipping inside your hole just to tease johnny.

“that’s it, baby. pinch your clit.” you squeal when pinching your clit with your fingers.

johnny pulls himself free, he’s rock hard, precum oozing from his tiny slit. “finger yourself, baby.” you dip a finger into your hole.

“fuck, it just slipped in like nothing…” johnny groans, flexing as he smears the precum around his head.

“just a little faster, baby.” you whimper and pick up your pace, dropping your head back and shutting your eyes. “add another finger.” you add a second finger, shuddering at the slight stretch.

johnny curses under his breath and picks his pace with his strokes. “how does it feel, baby.” you shake your head, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“not the same,” johnny pauses his strokes. “what do you mean, baby?” your eyes water up, “it’s not the same, johnny.” your legs fall together and your fingers come to a stop.

“we can make it feel like it’s the same, baby. i want you to keep your eyes closed and listen to my voice. imagine it’s me who’s pleasuring you.”

“it won’t be the sam—“

“just listen to my voice, baby.” johnny whispers. “listen to my voice and listen to how i want you to touch yourself.”

you take deep breaths, breathing out slowly and quietly while johnny softly hums.

“let’s backtrack, alright, beautiful?” your lips twitch into a faint smile. “i want you to touch yourself, not finger but touch your clit for me.”

your fingers find their way on your clit, softly rubbing and pinching your clit.

“that’s it, baby.” johnny pulls off his shirt. “don’t cry, take deep breaths, alright?” you nod and rub eights on your clit.

“you have the cutest pussy. cute little pussy that struggles to take my dick.” you moan and ball up your fist, sinking your teeth into the flesh, hard enough so that your teeth leave light indents.

you’re too busy listening to johnnys voice to even notice that johnny had pulled out a cotton fabric. “let’s skip past one finger and do two, i know you can do it.”

with your middle and ring finger, you slip the two into your cunt and let out a cry of pleasure. “oh, fuck.” you gasp and softly jerk forward. “that’s it, gorgeous. look how good you’re taking my fingers.”

johnny wraps the cotton material around his cock and begins to stroke himself. “fuck, baby. you feel so good.”

whimpers slip past your lips as you pick up your pace, the heel of your palm rubbing against your clit, giving you more friction and more pleasure.

“that’s it, y/n. take all of me like a good slut.” johnny moans and strokes himself faster. “faster, baby.” you whimper and gasp repeatedly while your fingers rub your g-spot.

“j—johnny,” you dig your nails into your thighs that hold your legs in place. “i—i’m gonna c—cum.”

“mhm,” johnny hums, his hands fisting tightly around his cock. “cum for me, y/n. show me who makes you feel good.”

your pants and moans filling up the room while your orgasm crashes over you. your legs shake and tremble, and your body jerks repeatedly like you’d been shocked. your fingers slowly and desperately still fingering your cunt.

“s—shit, i’m cumming. fuckfuckfuck!” johnny groans loudly.

johnny balls up his shirt and bites down on the fabric, covering up his moans and whimpers. his fist stroking the tip and painting his abs with white ling streaks.

“oh, fuck…” johnny slowly fucks his fist, his angry red tip popping up every second. “so fucking good.” johnny sighs, letting his hand drop and melting into the couch.

“you made a mess.” you giggle when finally pulling the strength to sit up.

johnny lifts his head and looks at his screen, seeing you barely sat up with your wet pussy on display for johnny to see.

“i made a mess?” johnny scoffs with a sexy smirk. “look at the mess you made.” you smile at him and shake your head.

“i can’t believe i got off to your voice, again.” you groan and grab your phone. “again?” johnny laughs and sits up, grabbing a few tissue from the table near him and cleaning himself up.

“is that my—wow, johnny. you’re gonna make fun of me for getting off on your voice but you’re jerking off with my panties that i’ve been looking for for a month!”

“well, i couldn’t bring you so i improvised.” johnny says a defensive tone. “whatever.” you laugh and shake your head in disbelief.

shuffling can be heard from johnnys side. “geez, it’s already one in the morning.” johnny says as he flips on a light. “already? it feels like we just got on the phone.” you frown and roll off the couch, making your way to the bathroom.

“we’ve been on the phone for over an hour, babe.” johnny says with a laugh. “it felt shorter but anyway, i’m gonna take a quick shower and i’ll call you back in fifteen.”

“why can’t we just keep calling?” johnny frowns and he flips the lights off and hugs his pillow. “because i need my phone to play music so i can karaoke.” you start the shower. “i bought you an ipad, laptop, and second phone for a reason.”

you roll your eyes, propping up your phone on the sink. “you’re so clingy.”

johnny scoffs, “says the one who gets off to my voice.”

you pull off your shirt, “at least i don’t need your boxers to help me do so.” you drop your bra and shirt.

“fuck you.”

you step into the shower. “i love you too.”

AN| hiiii, i know i’ve been really inactive but life is getting so rough right now and it’s really kicking my ass. happy thanksgiving, babies! i love you all and i am very thankful to have a growing account with all those who support and love me and my work. i’m trying my best to write with all my free time but yk sneakylink takes it all up. i know i dragged the end but we don’t talk about it HAHAHSJA. anywho, thank you anon for requesting this!!! happiest thanksgiving! 🩷

[disneyprincemuke]

the favourite driver * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic!femdriver

notes: hi i know i took forever to write this but uh what r u gonna do? ik u love me B)

| "wanna hang out?" | driver's parade | american burgers | american football | the thanksgiving incident | another williams adoptee | beating the heat | you’re embarrassing me | santa baby | the favourite driver | the situationship | it's nice to have a friend |

"remember!" toto calls out to you walking away. "back by half past three for his nap!"

you wave your arm in the air, hoisting little jack wolff on her hip. you look down at him. "wanna make a new friend, jack?"

the young boy nods excitedly, giggling and throwing his head back. "is it your new friend?"

"yeah! his name's logan!" you squeal, jumping up the stairs of the williams racing home. you put jack down to the floor and let him grab your hand, pushing the door open. "he's super cool! cooler than georgie, i reckon!"

his eyes light up at the thought. uncle george has always been cool in the eyes of little jack wolff – simply because he had made an effort to make sure that he thought of him that way. though susie argues that you are jack's favourite race car driver, always wearing the team shirt you gave him to sleep every other night.

you spot logan on the couch, scrolling away on his phone. "hey, i want you to meet someone!"

logan looks up at you first, eyes widening and lips stretching into a sweet smile. then he notices the smaller hand wrapped in yours. he tilts his head at the young boy hiding shyly behind your legs. "hey, buddy."

"this is little toto – jack!" you beam, stepping aside to present jack to logan. "i like babysitting him when he's in the paddocks, so i brought him here with me!"

"hi," jack says timidly, one hand on your thigh. "i'm jack."

"hey," logan hums, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "i'm logan."

"hi," he says again, slightly softer this time before settling to hide behind your legs again. he bundles up the material of your sweatpants in his hands and avoids logan's curious eyes.

logan looks up at you. you shrug. "he's a little shy," you whisper. you move to the side again and put jack by your side on the tiny blue couch. "i thought you were excited to meet my new friend?"

"i got shy," he giggles. he turns to logan with a smile. "are you also a race car driver? like uncle george?"

you poke jack's shoulder. "he's cooler than uncle george. logan's not a stinky boy man."

jack giggles. "you're not stinky?"

you spend the afternoon by the william's racing home with logan and jack, the four-year-old eventually opening up to play a game of football with him. to which, logan almost started debating with an actual kid about how he knows it as soccer.

but he dropped it, not wanting to confuse such a young child about the difference.

by the time three-thirty rolls around, jack is hugging logan's neck, cheek mushed into his shoulder with logan's arms under his body. "thanks for carrying him back for me," you whisper with a giggle. "he's getting very big and heavy."

logan grins. "he's very cute. i can see why you like him a lot."

"he's already sleeping," toto says slightly amused, hands on his hips by the doors that lead into the mercedes home. "i'm impressed."

"we played soccer," logan grins, leaning forward to transfer the sleeping kid into his father's arms.

"football," you correct logan with a pat on his shoulder. you grin at him. "i'll see you later at the driver's briefing, mate."

logan bids you goodbye, walking the other way as he readjusts his williams hoodie. toto grins at you, turning on his heel while you pull the door open. "i'm glad jack made a new friend. one more babysitter for me, yes?"

you shrug. "isn't it up to jack to decide if he likes being with logan?"

jack lifts his head, eyes half open with drool pooling at the corner of his mouth. "logan's my favourite driver."

toto gasps as jack drops his cheek on his shoulder again. "you converted him to a williams supporter!"

"no way! i'm supposed to be his favourite race car driver!"

@cashtons-wife @darleneslane

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [2] - Silk

A.N: Here's the new chapter my loves! ❤️ I hope you'll like it, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤️

Summary: Gifts can make good apologies.

Word Count: 3000

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don't condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Well, if the blood splattered on your face was any sign, tonight was not going the way you had planned it to go.

“This is lotus silk!” you snapped, still wiping at the blood on your face while you motioned at your dress with your other hand. “Do you have any idea how impossible it is to remove blood stains from silk?”

Bucky motioned at his men and they scattered along the bar, some approaching Steve’s men–the undying friendship between Bucky and Steve had its effect on people on their payroll as well, since they tended to hang out together— while the rest checked around the restaurant. You knew you were supposed to go to Ethan to make sure he was okay, but Bucky’s voice distracted you before you could even take a step.

“You’re welcome.”

“I know you’re not familiar with the idea of spending time with women who are not in your bed or have their clothes on,” you said through your teeth, running your hand over the blood stain. “But in case you forgot, when people wear nice things on a night out, they usually want to keep them nice—"

“Come on, we’re going,” he said, grabbing your arm and you yanked it back.

“No!”

“Charm…”

“I’m taking Ethan to the hospital, that’s where I’m going,” you said and he pulled his brows together.

“What?” he asked, “Who’s Ethan?”

“What happened here?!” Steve’s voice reached you and you turned to see him walk into the bar.

“Hi Steve.”

“Please tell me that’s not your blood because if it is, your father will end the truce just to put a bullet in my head.”

“It’s not my blood,” you said sulkily, “Not that it matters, because it’s never getting off.”

“Buck?”

“I was passing by when I got the news,” he said. “Came as soon as I heard.”

 Steve looked around. “That man in the corner, he is one of the attackers?”

“Yeah,” you said and he nodded, then squeezed your shoulder in an assuring manner and approached his men. You huffed out and approached Ethan with Bucky following you.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked and Ethan swallowed thickly, then turned his head to take a look at the bleeding wound on his shoulder only to take a sharp breath.

“Okay, that’s a—that’s a bullet wound.”

“Congratulations, what is this your first time?” Bucky asked drily and you shot him a glare.

“Bucky!”

“What?” he asked. “It’s obviously not fatal, he’s being dramatic.”

“Hey, we’re taking the guy to the warehouse,” Steve said as his men dragged the only surviving attacker outside. “Charm, my men said you came without your usual bodyguards?”

“Yeah I ditched them.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose while Steve cleared his throat.

“Alright, I’ll have someone drive you to your father’s house—”

“I can take her, it’s fine.”

“Did you fire the gun too close to your ear or something? I said I’m not going anywhere with you,” you growled at Bucky and turned to Steve. “I’m going to the hospital.”

“You said it wasn’t your blood.”

“I’m taking Ethan,” you pointed at Ethan who waved weakly at Steve with his free hand from where he was sitting.

“Hi.”

Steve blinked a couple of times. “…Hello?”

“Is anyone going to tell me who the fuck this dude is?”

“He’s my friend!” you snapped at Bucky and Steve tilted his head, then took a look at Ethan.

“I don’t think I saw you around before, what family are you loyal to?”

“My—mine?” Ethan tried, stealing a look at you as if asking for a clue. “I mean I couldn’t attend the last Thanksgiving but—”

“He’s a civilian Steve, we know each other from college.”

Steve raised his brows and Bucky’s eyes widened before he let out a chuckle.

“Wait, just so I’m clear,” he said. “You went on a date with a civilian outside your father’s territory without bodyguards?”

“It’s not a date.”

“Isn’t it?” Ethan asked, making your head whip around.

“Is it?”

“Unbelievable…” Bucky muttered. “Outside your father’s territory, Charm? Where are you going for the next date, a sinking ship?”

“A corn maze probably—”

“You don’t have to talk to him,” you told Ethan and he nodded.

“Sorry, it’s my first time getting shot so I’m not sure how it goes—” he paused for a moment. “Hey quick question, am I gonna die?”

“You’ll be fine, we will take you to the hospital,” you assured him while Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Do you go to the hospital for a papercut as well, Ethan?”

You groaned. “Steve, make him stop!”

“Guys it’s not the time for this,” Steve said, ignoring Bucky’s smug smirk. “Charm, how about this? We’ll take him to the hospital, give him the usual story, and Bucky will take you home. No offense, but I don’t want your father to rain hellfire here the moment he hears you were in a shootout.”

You pursed your lips and thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Fine.”

“Wait, what story?” Ethan asked and Bucky waved a hand in the air.

“Oh you know, the story you will tell the cops or else they will find you in a dark alley.”

“Ah,” Ethan said, stealing a look at you. “He’s joking right?”

“No he’s not,” you said, checking your phone. “Steve’s men will fill you in. Steve, the hospital in Sam’s territory is closer to here actually, it’s a ten-minute drive and I think Sarah is working tonight.”

“Okay,” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’ll let Sam know.”

“Come on princess,” Bucky said and you licked your lips.

“Ethan, they’ll take you to the hospital, is that okay?”

Ethan gave you a thumbs up and you shook your head slightly, then walked out of the bar with Bucky. One of his men opened the car door for you and you got in, fixing your dress and huffing out. Bucky got in as well, and the driver started the car.

You crossed your arms, stubbornly fixing your eyes on the window, watching the cars and buildings wheeze by while the car moved through the traffic. Your thoughts were spinning around in your head like a tornado while you tried to figure out who those men were and why they had attacked you at the risk of breaking the truce, especially considering that as far as everyone was concerned, you weren’t in the business. Your father had spent years keeping you out of it no matter how much you insisted to be a part of it, telling you that he didn’t want you in danger.

It hadn’t stopped him from making your cousin be a part of it though. Despite the fact that you were supposed to be the heir, he was the one who everyone assumed would take over once your father retired.

“You look beautiful,” Bucky’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned your head to shoot him a glare, making him heave a sigh.

“Charm…”

“You ruined my dress!”

He ran a hand over his face, his vibranium arm glimmering under the street lights you passed by for a moment.

“My deepest apologies for not paying attention to your dress while saving you.”

“I didn’t need saving, and it’s lotus silk!” you insisted. “Do you have any idea how many stores Becca and I had to visit until we found a nice dress?”

“Strangely enough, my sister doesn’t tell me about your adventures in shopping on a daily basis,” he deadpanned. “And I take it Becca knew you were going on a date with a civilian?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“He thought it was a date,” Bucky pointed out. “Even while he was bleeding on the floor.”

“And what if it was a date?” you asked back and he shot you an almost chiding look.

“Civilians are a bad idea, Charm.”

A bitter smile curled your lips and you sat up straighter so that you could see him better.

“Oh good, I was just in the mood to get some romance advice from you,” you said. “Go on then. What does the perfect-heir-turned-boss think?

A shadow crossed his face for a second, but when he spoke his voice was completely calm.

“That you’re being too reckless.”

“What does it matter if I date a civilian or not?” you asked, almost daring him. “I’m not in the business, remember? Unlike you, I’m not going to get my family’s empire once my father decides to retire—”

“Aren’t you?” he cut you off and the sarcastic smile was wiped off of your face in a second, your heartbeat getting faster.

No way.

No God damn way.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, coaxing a small smile out of him. For perhaps the millionth time, you noticed just how handsome he was but the mere thought made you scowl.

Too bad he was an insufferable prick, handsome or not.

“Come on,” he taunted you. “We both know what I’m talking about.”

You paused for a moment, then turned your glances to the window to watch the road as the car reached the huge gates of your father’s estate. Bucky typed something into his phone, probably texting Steve, and you wiped at your face again just in case there was any dried blood before the car stopped by the huge mansion. The driver opened your car door and Bucky followed you as you climbed the marble stairs leading to the front door. You rang the doorbell, then bit at your fingernails.

“Miss,” the maid greeted you when she opened the door and you smiled at her.

“Hi Molly,” you said. “Where is my father?”

“In his office.”

“Thank you,” you said and nodded at Bucky so that he would come with you to the study. You knocked at the door and when you heard your father’s voice telling you to come in, you opened it.

“Hi daddy.”

“Hi sweeth—what happened?!” he stood up from his seat behind his desk and quickly made his way to you. Bucky closed the door behind you as you looked down at your poor dress, then shook your head when your father made his way to you to check you for injuries.

“It’s not my blood,” you said quickly. “Don’t worry.”

“Who did this?” your father asked, anger apparent in his voice as he turned to Bucky. “When did this happen? Bucky?”

“Arthur,” Bucky greeted him. “I wanted to come and give you the news myself, just in case. She’s completely fine—”

“Albeit very annoyed,” you interrupted him and Bucky repressed a smile.

“And very annoyed as you can see.”

“My dress is ruined,” you grumbled and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“I’ll ask the next guy who holds you at gunpoint to take a couple of steps back before I blow his brains out, I promise.”

“Much appreciated,” you snarked back but your father raised a hand, motioning at you both to stop.

“At gunpoint—what happened?” he said. “Who broke the truce?”

“No one,” Bucky said. “I assure you. It happened in Steve’s territory, but they were not Steve’s people. We left one of them alive, he took him to the warehouse to question him.”

Your father ran a hand over his face.

“Steve’s territory?” he asked before turning to you. “Sweetheart, what were you doing in Steve’s territory?”

“I um…” you stumbled over your words. “I—you know, that’s actually a funny story—”

“Becca likes the cocktails there,” Bucky cut you off. “You two were going to meet there, right Y/N?”

You stared at him for a couple of seconds, then cleared your throat and nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said, turning to smile at your father. “Uh huh. Me and Becca.”

“Without bodyguards?”

“We wanted a girl’s night out,” you said, making your father shoot you a look. “Alright fine, before you give me yet another one-hour long speech about being careful, I’d like to get all this blood off of me, so can we postpone it after I take a very long bath and get some sleep?”

He heaved a sigh and nodded at you. “Go.”

“Yay!” you said and pressed a kiss on his cheek, then turned to Bucky. “You owe me a dress.”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender as you walked to the door, then closed it behind you.  You stretched out before dragging your weary self up the stairs, and Molly approached you.

“Miss, I asked the girls to draw you a bubble bath.”

“Oh that’s wonderful!” you said, “Would you mind—”

“Your plate of chocolate strawberries and glass of champagne are already there.”

You pressed a hand on your chest with a gasp.

“Molly you’re an angel, you know that?” you said, then blew her a kiss as you made your way through the hallway to the bathroom. “Thank you!”

                                        *

Considering how last night had gone, it was no wonder that exhaustion made you sleep like a rock. Though your dreams were in no way peaceful, your long bath had helped you relax just a little and it was only when someone knocked on the door that you woke up, a groan leaving your lips.

“Y/N?” your cousin’s voice reached inside the room, making a frown pinch your brows together. You rolled your eyes, then sat up in bed.

“What?”

“Can I come in?”

“If you must,” you grumbled as the door opened, and he stepped in. Unlike you, it was clear that he had been awake for a while which made you check the time on your phone, seeing multiple text messages from Becca before lifting your head to look at him.

“Ian,” you said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I was going to wait until you woke up but it didn’t seem like you would,” he said. “Uncle informed me about what happened.”

“Of course he did.”

“You should have told me about it,” Ian said. “As soon as it happened. This is a family matter, why am I hearing about this after Barnes or Rogers?”

“It happened in Steve’s territory.” You shrugged your shoulders. “What, am I supposed to draw you a map of the city all of a sudden?”

“And what were you doing in Steve’s territory?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was meeting Becca.”

He crossed his arms. “I still think you shouldn’t be that close with them. They could turn into rivals with the snap of a finger, and the family—”

“Just because you don’t have any friends doesn’t mean the rest of the family should be company to that misery,” you cut him off. “Besides, they’re our allies and there’s truce remember?”

“For now,” he pointed out. “Doesn’t look like that truce will hold if it turns out that your attackers worked for any of the other families.”

“Well, those attackers were not working for Steve or Bucky.”

“Wilson?” he asked. “He’s their best friend after all.”

“Sam is too smart to break the truce.”

“Then it could be Stark or Romanoff.”

“Or none of the families,” you said. “Everyone spilled too much blood for this, they’re not just going to break it in a way that’s that amateur. Those guys were hired gun for outsiders, I’m almost sure of it.”

“Well I’m not so sure,” he said. “And honestly, I think you’re being too naïve.”

Anger shot through you like lightning but you managed to keep your expression calm.

“I know them way better than you do,” you said, your voice cold. “And if you think you can make business with people whom you point fingers at as soon as something unexpected happens, you’re the one being naïve, not me.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and you glared at him back until he heaved a sigh.

“I’ll talk to Rogers, we need to be the ones questioning the attacker. It’s an attack on not just you, but the family itself—”

“The attack happened in his territory, he’s not going to just give him to you,” you stated. “But by all means, don’t let me stop you from wasting your time.”

He opened his mouth to retort but someone else knocked on the door.

“Miss?”

“Molly, you can come in!” you called out and she opened the door. “Ian was just leaving.”

Ian shook his head slightly, then threw his shoulders back.

“Just don’t go to places without bodyguards—”

“Goodbye Ian,” you cut him off as you leaned back on the fluffy pillows and he scoffed, then walked out of the room. You pushed the covers off of you while Molly stepped inside with a rectangular box in her arms.

“What’s that?”

She put the box on the bed. “It was just delivered for you.”

You hummed as you pulled the box to yourself, then tugged the ribbon on top of it loose. A gasp left your lips as soon as you saw what was inside, and when you pulled the soft dress out of the box, the card inside caught your eye.

Sorry about your dress, princess.

Bucky

He had gotten you the exact same dress that you had thrown into trash last night. You were painfully aware of the smile pulling at your lips and you got off the bed, then walked to the full-length mirror to hold it over your body.

No.

No way.

Bucky was an asshole who had ripped your heart out when you two were younger, and now that he was one of the biggest mob bosses in the city with so much money, power and influence, he was even more arrogant than before, which was saying a lot. You were sure that this nice gesture was some sort of play and contrary to what all these men around you seemed to believe, you weren’t naïve in the slightest.

You pursed your lips together and cleared your throat before you put the dress back in the box, placing the cover on top.

“You can throw it away or give it to someone, I don’t want it,” you said as you handed Molly the box, and she let out a laugh.

“Secret admirer?”

“Not at all,” you said with a laugh, then flung yourself on the bed again. “Just a trick. I’m not his type, and trust me he’s definitely not my type.”

Chapter 3

[bbjobo]

Hello hi it’s me, your resident entertainment PR enthusiast. I simply need to talk about the sequel announcement. This is all speculation, but I work in entertainment-adjacent communications and once convinced a household name celebrity to stay at my event to do select press interviews when his wife was going to go into labor at literally any minute, so I like to think I've got a pretty good sense of all of this.

So buckle in, because I'm about how actually fantastic this rollout was, because I’d wager they’ve been planning this since the premiere. 

RWRB came out truly smack-dab in the middle of the actors' strike. We all know just how much press we must have missed out on, because the strike started before promo would have kicked off in earnest. And when it was finally over in November, the actors are potentially out of contract for promotion, and that’s not even taking into consideration that the holidays are coming up and the six weeks from American Thanksgiving to New Year’s is truly a black hole of press. So this little movie has to rely almost entirely on fan reaction and word of mouth to hit because they’re so limited in what they can do for promo. And it IS a hit! Records are broken! Comments for an extended version (which, ok Matthew we get it, does not exist) and a sequel start almost immediately.

The marketing team makes the most of what they’ve got: they’re keeping up the official character accounts, they’re dropping deleted scenes and BTS. We get cornettos! The fireside scene! Bloopers! Notably absent? Brownstone Thanksgiving. We’ve seen BTS photos of it, we know it exists. Thanksgiving 2023 would have been a great time to drop it, but they don’t. This is the approximate point at which my own personal sequel speculation began. After the strike ends, the posting pace slows considerably but it’s still consistent. It’s just enough to keep it in your mind but not enough to be like “why are you still posting this much about it?” And this continues into 2024.

On the contracting side, conversations were likely actively happening at this point. I wouldn’t be surprised if negotiations picked up literally as soon as the strike ended. The producers would have had that time to get Matthew and Casey back on board and be fully prepped and ready to move on to contracting actors the minute they could. It’d be a shot in the dark to try to guess when these were finalized, but at some point between November 9 and May 9, yeah, they’re in.

But whew, Nicholas is booked and BUSY. Mary & George drops internationally March 5, The Idea of You closes SXSW on March 17, two weeks later M&G starts airing in the US and Canada, and a month after that, TIOY is available for streaming (and limited theatrical release, which is another whole post), and in between all those premieres, he’s everywhere. He’s criss-crossing the country (and tbh the Atlantic Ocean) for all of these appearances, truly going non-stop. The pacing of the premieres makes it nearly impossible to squeeze in another project announcement, and if they had, it would have been a bigger part of every interview he did after, which is something his own team would be working to balance. Plus between TIOY and RWRB, Prime would have been pitching stories against themselves. Better to let him finish out his other promotional appearances and then switch over.

At the same time, we’ve got awards and red carpet season starting. At nearly every red carpet appearance not for their own projects, both Taylor and Nick are asked about a sequel. If an interviewer is given enough time, they ask about a sequel. Sure, fans comment about a sequel on every vaguely rwrb social post from an official account, but the press asking about a sequel felt like a lot to me. Everyone always gave the same vague answer, that they’d be up for it if the story is right, that they don’t know but would be happy to. (Except one time, Nick does slip up and give an answer that feels a little more definitive here where he says “conversations are being had” all the way back in late February/early March). Press are asking the question so consistently that it felt like if it wasn’t happening, PR teams would have put the sequel on the do not ask list.

Then Prime starts actually ramping up on a FYC campaign for the movie. I'm gonna be honest, I was so surprised. It's a rom com, the odds of a rom com getting any sort of awards recognition is so slim, but I thought, "ok, sure, use FYC as a way to get the promo boost they need for an announcement of whatever's coming next." And then I looked up and Variety has picked it as the winner in the best television movie category, which is blowing my mind. The other categories they're submitting in are stacked and I think a nomination beyond television movie will be a long shot, but again, it's big for it to even be considered. And if they're being talked about, that means Prime's gotta put out a great showing for their FYC campaign.

Which brings us to this week. We start off on Monday with Nick at the Met Gala referring to Uma as his mother-in-law. Incredible. Love it. Wednesday and Thursday are a one-two punch of a FYC event and fan event, and the gang’s all here. At the FYC, we get the industry side of things: new portraits and interviews with Deadline, process talk, etc. Because this little rom com is actually doing pretty well and beating the odds? Knowing what we know now, the PR teams spent this week pre-briefing the press on the sequel announcement. Notable (at least to my knowledge) the sequel question doesn't get asked at the FYC event. Because the press already knows it's coming.

Now, on to yesterday. They do a fan screening and Q&A, and they literally roll out the red carpet. Nine months after the premiere and exactly six months after the strike ended, they get the gang back together with fans of the movie, who they relied on so heavily during the strike to help make the movie a success. The tagline on the screen’s giant promo image has been updated to specifically thank fans for “making history with us.” The moderator for the Q&A is the same person who interviewed Taylor and Nick at the beginning of FYC campaign season, their first joint interview since GQ (right? pretty sure. it's all a blur tbh). And at the end of the Q&A, minutes before 12 AM ET, when the embargo on the press release would have lifted, they make the announcement not to press, but to the fans. The fans who loved the book, who watched it over and over, who spread the word about the movie to help make it one of Prime’s top three rom coms OF ALL TIME.

It’s just… an absolute masterclass in how to execute a major announcement that embraces the fans in a time where fandom and interaction between creators and fans can be an absolute minefield. Prime saw the opportunity to lean into the fannishness of it all and they took it and it was a slam dunk.

So where do we go from here? IDK but here’s some unconnected thoughts in list form like Alex would want.

The book’s 5th anniversary is next Wednesday, the 14th.

Casey’s been posting about working on [redacted] for months at this point, which is almost certainly the screenplay

Nick mentioned needing to be back in the UK for filming soon

They would probably like to release this in US election off-cycle years, so that means 2025 or 2027 (and 2027 is too far away). 2026 would be less bad since it’s a midterm election, but still.

Filming could reasonably start sooner rather than later, and even without an unfinished script

I guess we’re back on content watch for blond hair and BTS pictures

[kissitbttr]

ana babes, i'm stuck in the library studying my ass off but my thoughts always seem to go to fucking frat miguel between the shelves for a quick study break ☹️☹️☹️☹️

-sapphic loser

“i said no, miguel”

he whines, dropping his forehead down on the open book while stomping his foot down like a little boy earning a warning glance from someone who passes by,

“why nooot”

“do you even have to ask?! we’re in a library dumbass. control your dick for one second”

“how am i supposed to do that when you’re sitting in front of me?” he argues, “looking all cute and pouty.. makes me want to bang you all the time”

“miguel!” you warn with a groan, face heating up at his words, “we literally had sex this morning. twice, if i may add. i’m sure you can handle another two hours of you not being inside me”

miguel scoffs, his expression twists into something more looking in disbelief. as if it’s ridiculous for you to assume that,

his arms are crossed, leaning back against the chair with his knee bouncing rapidly. “this is boring”

“i didn’t ask you to come here, miguel. i told you to hang out with the boys didn’t i?”

“they’re being annoying right now”

you give him a look that says ‘and you’re not?’ which causes him to roll his eyes before pouting. “we can go do it three rows behind, baby. no one will notice”

his fingers reaching out underneath the table to play with the skirt of your dress. feeling his touch a little bit further and further which causes you to glare at him,

“jeez—you are no fun” he huffs, wincing when you knock his feet with yours. “i thought my girl would be an exhibitionist—but nope! i thought wrong”

“are you serious?!”you give him a deadpan look, dropping the pen on the table. “we literally fucked at your dad’s office at thanksgiving! that, and also the jacuzzi sex when we had had a ski trip with our friends?! you losing your fucking memory or what?”

that doesn’t seem to phase him enough, just shrugging his shoulders as he look down on your cleavage fingers tapping against the wooden table,

“doesn’t count in my opinion. there weren’t people there”

“god! miguel you are so—

-

“—fucking big, miggy!” desperate moan falls of your lips as he has you pinned against one of the bookshelf, “don’t stop, p-please”

yeah, you decide to give in to his suggestion seeing how it didn’t stop him from bothering you. letting him choose the perfect spot where no one else can see. thankfully, there aren’t a lot of people in the library so it was easy. the main task was to hide from the old librarian lady that never seemed to like the two of you,

his pants are hanging low by the hips whilst your dress is bunched up around the waist. full breasts spilling out of the cups making miguel feel dizzy at the euphoric sight of his girlfriend getting fucked.

miguel’s bulky arms holding you by the thighs as his cock plunges deep into your wet hole. his gaze falls upon your open mouth and down to your bouncing tits, leaning forward to take a nipple between his teeth,

“f-fuck, right there baby—shit” you whisper moan, back arching at the feeling of your sensitive bud getting chewed on. tangling your hands through his hair, tugging it

“puta madre you’re going to be the death of me” he comments with a groan, driving in a bit faster, chest pressing against yours as he tells you to hold onto him tightly. “didn’t i tell you this was a good idea?”

your eyes snap open, seeing that cocky smirk that quirks upon his lips. giving him a light scowl. “don’t be a fucking smart ass. you were just horny”

miguel chuckles deeply, giving you a long sloppy kiss on the mouth, licking your lower lip. “open wide, princesa” he orders with a small tap on your cheek. he grins when you obey him fast, tongue out. miguel spits his drool a bit down to your warm muscle, watching you giggle and close your mouth before swallowing it,

god, you’re so fucking sexy it’s driving him insane,

“almost there, baby?” you nod at the question, locking your legs around him a bit tighter. “fuck—me too—shit, shit”

it is far too impossible to contain your moans, especially you. which is why when you’re about to cum, miguel has to muffle your noises with his palm to keep the security and librarian coming to get the two of you busted. and it is irritating to miguel because he loves your noises. he loves hearing how good he makes you feel,

“cum for me, sweetheart—give it to me” he whispers lowly in your ear, one hand moving to reach the nape of your neck as his other still holding onto your thigh. he’a fucking you even faster that you feel the large shelf behind you is shaking quite rapidly.

“thaaat’s it— that’s it muñeca , oh fuck—fuck, i’m g-gonna—“

he cuts himself off once you both reach your high not a moment after. his cum painting the inside of your velvet walls as you coat his cock with yours. his thrusts are getting sloppy when he’s slowing down. miguel is trying to catch his breath as he watches your head falling back to catch yours. eyeing the beautiful sight before him.

he palms your cheek, thumb grazing against both of your lips making you kiss it. your eyes finding his and flashing him a shy grin.

“muy hermosa” he pecks your lips, “perfecto” your cheek, “mi cariño” one underneath the jawline. “and all mine”

his praises are making you giggle, arms circled around his neck as he helps you get down slowly and fix your dress before fixing his pants,

“i needed that, baby—thank you” you reach on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, but that doesn’t stop miguel from pulling you in to give you a real kiss. his hands kneading your ass. as if the fucking before isn’t enough. “okay, okay—baby—sto-oh!” you try to stifle the laughs when he moves down to kiss your neck, the stubble on his chin tickling you,

“can’t get enough of you, muñeca—shit—i’d give up everything for you, you know that?”

“hmm—even football and OBJ?” you jokingly ask, eyebrow twitching as you feel him freeze and pull away with a slight offended look,

“know your limits, baby”

[ch3rriewine]

Photo Booth Kissin' {P.P.}

summary: Peter's an awkward loverboy, but he's your awkard loverboy.

warnings: none i think just fluff :3, TASM!Peter Parker x reader hehe, no use of y/n, reader is kinda like super girly w the bows and sparkles idk

a/n: I HAVENT WRITTEN IN MONTHS SORRY here tho!

Peter’s life was boring—peaceful, but boring. Don’t get him wrong; being Spiderman is cool and all, but Peter Parker’s life could use some work. The most exciting thing that has happened to him recently was the time he got two yolks in one egg. Riveting stuff, right?

During another one of his literature classes that he doesn’t know why he took, he spots you. With a bow in your hair and a knit sweater falling over your figure, your head propped on your manicured hand while scribbling notes with the other. You sit in front of him and if Peter squints, he can see the small doodles littering the pages. Before he knows it, the professor announces that the lecture is done for the day. Peter panics; he wants to talk to you before you disappear and turn out to be a dream, but what would he even say? Doesn’t matter anymore since he chases after you to the door.

“Hey,” he says, looking a tad flushed after tripping over someone's water bottle.

“Oh, hi” you respond, your eyes a little widened at the sudden interaction.

“I, uh, I’m Peter” he say, sticks out his hand for you to shake. You take it and tell him your name. He repeats it in his head about a hundred times.

“I just, uhm, wanted to ask about…” he trails off, trying to remember if there were any assignments given. “The essay he said we had to do, yeah. When is it due again?” he hopes to any higher being that there was an essay due soon.

“Ah, yeah, it’s due next Monday” you reply, giving him a tight-lipped smile, ready to go back to your dorm.

“Cool, uhm, thanks! See you around, hopefully” with that, he bolts, leaving you confused and flushed. Hopefully

The cute boy in your class wants to see you around.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Two days later, Peter sees you again. It’s in the same class, and you’re as pretty as ever. He psyches himself up to sit next to you.

You look up from your laptop when he asks you if he can sit next to you. You nod, of course, and smile. He looks nervous, with fingers tapping on the table and cheeks a little red. It’s cute.

“Have you started on that essay?” you ask, trying to start conversation since it looks like he won’t.

“Huh? What essay? We have an essay?” he turns to face you, eyes wide.

“Yeah, the one you asked me about?” you laugh a little.

“Oh, no, I didn’t” his shoulders slump back down, and you smile at him.

“I didn’t either; I had other work to finish” he stares at you a little; it’s flattering, really. How shy he is around you. He barely knows you, but he’s convinced himself that you’re the greatest thing ever. He also may have looked up your instagram and fallen even harder as he looked at all your posts. Peter now knows what you ate at Thanksgiving 3 years ago.

“Same, I’m in STEM so you could imagine” he says, resting his head onto the table. Sleep deprivation a thing he is well acquainted with, unfortunately.

“STEM, wow, you must be smart then. Why’re you taking a classic lit class then?” Sure, you might’ve slipped in a compliment; it's not a crime to flirt a little. It takes Peter a few seconds to respond as he processes what you said, you think he’s smart.

“Uh, I was going through a phase with classic lit at the time, and I’ve been lazy to drop it. And, uh, I’m not that smart—pretty average actually. Like the most moderate person ever” He’s rambling and kind of lying. He’s doing really well in his other classes.

“Yeah? I think you’re pretty smart if you’re in STEM. Not everyday a guy is both pretty and smart.” His cheeks turn even redder, if possible, and he makes a sort of out of breath sound. “If you need any help with this class, I’d be happy to give you my notes on the book”

Jesus, you’re gonna kill the poor boy.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

From then on, you sit beside him and throw in some flirty comments while he struggles to reciprocate. It feels too good to be true, how you seem interested in him and how you eagerly talk to him after lectures, even giving hm your number to talk about “class”. He’s waiting for the day you ghost him.

“Hey, would you maybe want to, like, hang out? Like on a date or something? Or just as friends! Actually, yeah, just hang out as friends; forget I said date sorry,“ he flounders, waiting for the rejection. Oh God, he’s just messed up the whole friendship and you’re gonna think that he’s weird and a creep and-

“I’d love to go on a date, Peter,” you smile “I was waiting for you to ask.”

“Oh, great, is Saturday at 3 okay? I’ll meet you outside your building and we could walk to that arcade?” He asks, eyes hopeful.

“Saturday at 3 is great. I love arcades, but you have to help me with the claw machines” For someone so smart and handsome, he doesn’t let himself think people like him.

“See you Saturday, Peter” you tiptoe to kiss his cheek, leaving sticky residue from your sparkly gloss and walk to your next class. He stands in place, a little starstruck and a lot flustered. He leaves the lipgloss there.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Saturday finally comes, and now it’s your turn to be nervous. You’ve switched outfits countless times, your hair is out of place, and your makeup doesn’t seem to flatter you. You’ve settled on a pretty blue dress with tights to protect you from the small chill. Two little bows clipped into your hair and knit cardigan falling over your shoulders—makeup finally looking presentable enough with maybe a little too much glitter on your eyes, but whatever. Your phone chimes as you’re applying pink sparkly gloss, and your heart skips a beat. He’s here.

You throw your phone and lip gloss in your purse and bolt out the door. You spot him outside your building, as promised. He looks wonderful. Brown sweater and worn-in denim jeans—you can’t believe he’s so shy around you when he looks like that. He finally spots you, and wow, he thinks.

“Hey," he scolds himself for being so casual when he should be whisking you away to Italy, or something. He could’ve at least gotten you flowers.

“Hi, you look great,” you say in front of him, and seeing you up close is making him fall even harder, if possible.

“You look, wow, you’re just, wow” he can’t even believe you’re into him.

“Cmon, I wanna win some plushies,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. He grips your hand harder and laces your fingers.

The walk is calm and the air is starting to get cool. You talk about class and a show you started. Peter listens intently, making mental notes about what you like and don’t like. Your hands stay intwined, and his thumb traces patterns on the back of your hand. He’s gotten more comfortable and less panicky in your presence, so you get to see his personality shine through. He’s incredibly funny. You can’t stop laughing on your way there, and he can’t stop thinking of more things to make you laugh.

The arcade is dark, with flashing lights from every game. Peter goes to buy some tokens, refusing your offer to pay half. Grabbing Peter’s hand and making a beeline for the claw machines, everyone knows they’re rigged, but you don’t care. You eagerly take the tokens and attempt to win the Kuromi plushie. After the 5th? 6th attempt? When the claw has dropped the plushie, you give up.

“Why do they do this to people! It’s false hope!” you whine to Peter as he laughs at your pout.

“Lemme try,” he nudges you over and puts in a token.

You watch with eyebrows furrowed as he wins it on his first attempt.

“What the hell, Peter?” you crouch to pull the plushie from the machine.

“What? Do you not like it?” He faces you, examining the stuffed, is she a rabbit? What animal even is Kuromi?

“I love her; just, how did you win it?” You look up at him incredulously. He must have some weird power that makes him win every claw machine.

“Oh, I don’t know; just position it right?” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in the process. You want to smooth them out with your fingers.

“Thank you!” you’re genuinely really excited over a cheap stuffed toy, not because you really wanted it, but because Peter won it for you. You wrap your arms around his neck in thanks. Peter freezes. He fees like a teenager at how he’s reacting to a hug of all things. He snaps back and hugs you back. You pull away to kiss his cheek. This is the second time you’ve kissed his cheek, and he doesn’t know how he’ll ever get used to it.

“Lets go play games, pretty boy,” pulling away and leaving Peter to gather his brain and follow along.

You watch as he plays Pac-Man; its silly, but you love his face when he’s focused. Brows furrowed and lips in a thin line. He really is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. And he’s infatuated with you! Of all people! You swear half the girls in the class have a crush on him, but he gets nervous around you. You play some air-hockey, which you won (he let you win), and he won you some more plushies and some candy at the infamous claw machines.

When the games get old, the two of you leave the building. The sun is setting at this point, and you’re dreading leaving him.

“Oh, look! There’s a photo booth!” you point, excitedly tugging on his arm. “We should take some pictures.” you drag him into the booth, both of your thighs squished together and his legs at an awkward angle. He feeds the machine a few bucks, and the screen starts to count down.

You put on a sickly sweet smile, scrunching your eyes while Peter smiles big with pearly white teeth on display. The second photo you lean into Peter and he wraps his arm around you, pulling your body close to his. The third photo, you go for it. You grab his face and kiss him. His hands stay in the air as the glitter on your lips transfers to his. You taste like vanilla. You pull away, a little anxious that he didn’t want it. Those thoughts get pushed away when he grabs the sides of your face and kisses you until you can’t think. His hands are warm and big covering your cheeks as his lips move against yours. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck once more and deepen the kiss. Your lips move together in tandem as he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs, the movement comforting.

The fourth photo is blurry, and you walk out with all your lipgloss on Peter’s lips.

[samthestrangerthingsfan]

Out of The Woods

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: Hawkins is home once again, and you're determined to keep your peace. The past comes calling.

chapter warnings: slow burn, motherhood, swearing, childhood trauma, fluff, sweet sweet memories and friends bonding again. <3

a/n: I don't want to give spoilers, but we may or may not have a run-in with a certain metal head in this chapter! :O (just a taste, a lil treat bc you've all been so good.)

chapter 3: Silver Springs || series masterlist

NOVEMBER 4th, 1983

Friday was the best day of the week.

Sure, weekends are great, but Friday night meant movie night at the Munson’s.

“You better not make her watching nothin’ scary, Edward.” Wayne huffed, grabbing his choice of cap from the wall, as well as big winter coat.

Eddie’s hand flew over his heart. “I would never! Not so close to the holidays!”

You threw a piece of popcorn at his head as the laughter bubbled from your chest. “Holidays? It’s not even Thanksgiving!” Eddie motions for you to keep throwing so he can catch one in his mouth. You oblige, but not without a protest of your own. “I would like—no, I demand a comedy.”

Eddie bowed to you, peering up and showing off the piece of popcorn he’d caught at the last second “What m’lady wants, she shall receive.”

The trailer door blew out of Wayne’s grip as he opened it, “Christ, it’s freezin’! Turn the heat on, boy. Your date is gonna freeze to death.”

Eddie gives you a knowing look. There’s no point, his eyes send the message loud and clear. The two of you have told Wayne dozens of times that you weren’t on dates, you were just best friends hanging out.

He didn’t buy it.

“Why does she get the heat? Pretty sure I got frost bite when I got outta the shower today.”

“Because,” Wayne slid his hands into a pair of work gloves as he walked toward you. “I like her and I want her to keep comin’ around.” He bent down, and kissed the crown of your head.

You protested, “I don’t wanna bug you—“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Eddie teased. “Ya know you say that a lot?”

“It’s the truth!”

“You could never bug me—ever. Even if you could, who cares? Not like it’s a bad, it’s a good bug you reserve just for me; my bug.”

Your eyes seemed to roll of their own free will, “Eddie.”

He dropped down next to you, putting a hand on your upper thigh as he offered you a twizzler. “Yes, Bug?”

Neither of you had noticed when exactly Wayne slipped out.

You’d compromised that night. Ghostbusters, a little something for the both of you.

About 30 minutes in, Eddie looked at you. He took in how you laughed at something Bill Murray said, how the sound bubbling from your chest made your nose crinkle.

God, he could listen to that sound all day.

When you turned to him, he panicked. Standing quickly, “Uh, shit…here,” he said, not knowing where the hell he was going with the sentence.

Eddie looked around for a moment, what felt like an hour for him was surely only a few seconds. He ended up grabbing Wayne’s old Polaroid camera from the shelf. “C’mon, we gotta take a picture.”

You smiled through your confusion, “Why?”

Eddie shrugged, “Because we never do! And I wanna remember this even when we’re so old we can’t remember our own names.”

“You want to remember a randoms Friday night?”

He nodded. “If it’s a Friday night with you? Always.”

The whirr and click of the camera went off before you knew what was happening. “Eddie, I wasn’t ready! I’m gonna look like a fucking Goblin!”

The timber of his laugh made your heart race. Eddie pulled the film from its slot beneath the lens. “Don’t sell yourself short, Bug. Troll maybe, but never a Goblin.”

You elbowed his ribs at the exact moment he connected with the couch.

“Oof.” He laughed. “C’mon, smile?”

“Fine.”

Eddie put his arm around you, pulling you in close. A second later, the flash blinded you both, leaving you dazed and giggly for the next minute.

You held out your hand, and gestured to where the photo of the two of you was laid out to develop. “Let’s see it then.” You demanded.

Eddie pulled it off the coffee table, looking at it before he handed it to you.

He wasn’t looking at the camera, no. His eyes were on you, and he was smiling harder than he’d thought was possible.

He saw how you were leaned into him, your hand holding his as it draped over your shoulder, the light behind your eyes, the smile he couldn’t get enough of.

Eddie felt it then.

So immediate and sudden it felt like his heart got struck by lightning, and it was then that he realized two things:

That this feeling, whatever it was, couldn’t possibly end well.

And two?

He is so fucked.

It became easier to breathe.

You hadn’t realized just how suffocating life here had become. To be back in Hawkins and still feel like you were hiding and alone. Though now, and in the weeks since you’re run-in with Robin and Steve, it all got a bit brighter and a little less heavy.

Steve was committed to putting the past behind you, a sentiment he all but drilled into your head the first night he visited Maggie and you at the house.

“You did what you thought you needed to do to make it. You’re back now, though. Let us be there for you.”

He also became Maggie’s own personal jungle gym. Whenever they watched a movie or had a snack together, your daughter could be found on top of him in some way. They especially enjoyed watching cartoons on Saturdays; Maggie perched on top of Uncle Cheeseball’s shoulders, because according to her it was the ‘best seat in the house.’

Robin couldn’t be deterred either.

She’s over at least three nights a week now, and Maggie is obsessed—like, seriously obsessed. It’s the sort of bond you watch from afar and admire, the way your friend opened her heart to your daughter. How she’s protected her innocence and encouraged her silliness.

Kids aren’t exactly everyone’s cup of tea. They’re loud and messy and demanding in a totally innocent way. They require you to think before you act and never put yourself first. It’s why any dates you’d been on over the years hadn’t worked out, most people disappeared after they learned of her. Not that you cared, Maggie was number one in your life, and you were damn proud of that.

But now here you are, the life you had been convinced you’d never have was happening before your eyes.

“And ya know what else, Miss M? Your Mom fell right on her butt and slid all the way down the hill!”

Maggie’s laughter echoed off the your living room walls.

“Hey! It was December and Hillcrest is notoriously icy when it snows!” You feigned insult, and tickled Maggie as her laughter multiplied.

“Mom! That’s so silly! How'd you stop sliding?” She questioned.

Robin’s eyebrow quirked up, “Yeah, how did you stop sliding?”

You sighed, embarrassment painting your face. “Steve—Uncle Cheeseball had to catch me.”

The two of them howled with laughter, “Yeah-yeah, laugh it up. I don’t like this, you’re in…cahoots!”

“Excuse me!” Robin objected. “I am a responsible adult!”

Maggie stood with her hands on her hips. “Yeah! Me too!”

You leaned down, kissing her forehead. “Alright, well, it’s bedtime for all adults and former children.”

Maggie whined, but let out a yawn mid-grumble.

“See? Proof.” You booped her nose. “Go on, you have school tomorrow. Teeth, pjs, bed, okay?”

Maggie hugged you, “Okay, Mama. Goodnight, Robby! I’ll see you on Friday for pizzas!”

She ran the few feet to your friend, and squeezed her. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo.”

Maggie, by the grace of God, listened. She was so worn out from laughing and dancing and playing with Robin that she crashed as soon as her little head hit the pillow.

“Want me to take the trash out on my way?” Robin asked, hands full of the nonsense she’d brought along with her.

“Is there a 3rd hand in there I don’t know about?” You nodded towards her, “No, Robs. I got it, I just gotta do the dishes first.”

Robin smiled behind you, relishing in the gratitude she felt having you back. “I-I’m so proud of you.” It was a near whisper, and when you turned to your friend, she had tears in her eyes.

“Maggie is…she’s so cool! And you’re obviously an incredible Mom. I’m just, I’m sorry you felt like you had to stay away.”

Your own eyes burned at that. You walked to Robin and pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry too, I’m sorry I didn’t call, or write…I just didn’t know how to—to be here.”

She nodded into your embrace, adjusting the items she cradled. “Well, you’re here now. Anything you need, say the word and I’ll be here, Steve too.”

You pulled away, “I know.”

Robin grabbed her keys with the few fingers she had free. “I don’t mean to ruin the beautiful moment of love and friendship, but have you thought about...him? About what’ll happen if you see him again? I mean, Hawkins isn’t exactly a big town.” She avoided using his name, and that didn’t go unnoticed.

It’s all I think about.

Fingers toyed with the hair tie around your wrist, “I wouldn’t even know…” your voice faded out. “I’ll cross that bridge if and when I come to it, I’ve been here for a while already, and haven’t even heard anyone mention his name.”

That was true.

Everyone used to talk about Eddie Munson. The troublemaker, the cult leader, the devil-worshipping freak. The boy who was corrupting you, and ruining your future.

These backwoods hicks had no idea just how good he was back then. How kind and gentle and full of courage he was. You couldn’t understand why they hated him, not when you found it so easy to love him.

“I didn’t wanna upset you—“

“You didn’t,” you’re quick to reassure her, “it’s a logical question, and sure, maybe I’m avoiding the subject, but I appreciate you looking out for me all the same.”

Robin shrugged as if it was the most simple thought in the world, “Always.”

She left after an additional 5 minutes of arguing about helping you clean, to which you would not allow.

Cleaning up after a long day, while exhausting, was your only time to yourself. It was the one part of the day Maggie wasn’t asking something of you or looking for something or covered in something sticky.

Why is it always something sticky?

The dishes were done, and the counters were clean. You plopped on the couch, and turned on whatever the tv was playing at this hour and had just begun to fold the laundry, when the stink of the trash left by the door nearly had you retching.

“Nope, not waiting til morning…”

“Steve, Steve…” Eddie laughed.

The boy threw his hands up in frustration. “Eddie, I’m serious!”

Eddie slapped his friends shoulder. “I appreciate the worrying, pal. I’m fine, I had one beer let’s see…” the metal head looked at his watch, “an hour and a half ago. Why the sudden concern about my health and safety, hm?”

Steve blanched at the question, stumbling over his words. “T-There was an accident tonight! Drunk driver hit the pole on Cornwallis. Cops everywhere, ya know?”

Steve knew exactly why the thought of Eddie getting hurt or worse was suddenly a new phobia he developed. He had just hoped he’d hide it better than this.

Eddie sighed, “Great,” and stood, grabbing his keys out of his pocket, “back roads it is, gonna take me 20 minutes to get home now.”

Steve stood too, causing Eddie to glance back. He pinched his friend’s cheek, “Would you feel better if I called you when I got home, Stevie?” Eddie mocked, pouting his lip.

Steve pushed him away, “Shut up, man. Fine, that’s the last time I give a shit about my friends.”

Eddie laughed, “Nah, I appreciate it, Harrington. I’ll see ya on Friday right? Still looking your car over at the shop?”

“Yeah, yeah. See ya Friday.”

Eddie left Steve’s apartment smiling to himself.

What a good dude.

By the time he hit Cornwallis, the detour was worse than expected. It took him down several back roads and side streets Eddie is usually able to avoid all together.

Not to mention Forest Hills trailer park is on the opposite side of town from Harrington’s place. Eddie is usually able to zip down Main Street to save some time, but with Cornwallis a no-go, it was an addition pain in the ass to avoid the one-ways.

“Oh come on.” He griped. The car in front of him was going what seemed like negative miles an hour. He whipped the wheel to the left, evading the current route and instead, opting for an old way he remembered like the back of his hand.

Even in the dark.

It was eerie. To be on this street that he'd driven hundreds of times, knowing it wasn't leading to you.

He could practically see you, the way you’d sit on the curb until he got there, bag packed with your essentials for a few days. Wanting to get the hell out of this place before your Dad came-too.

The street was dim, lit only by the few flickering street lamps. He attempted to drown out the glimpses of the past, turning up the radio, and blasting Crazy Train so loud it made his windows shake.

Six houses away.

It was a subconscious entity; these memories shouting from the void and demanding to be remembered.

Three…

The porch light to your old house was on. “Huh…weird.” Eddie whispered to himself.

His van was barely at your mailbox when he slammed on his brakes, nearly getting choked by the seatbelt. He skidded to a stop, and killed the music.

Either he’s high as a kite, or it was you. Standing right in front of him as you dragged the trash can to the curb.

He’s hoping it’s the former.

You, rightfully so, looked like a deer in fucking headlights. Jumping back when you heard the screech of his tires.

But you know that van—you’d know it simply by the way it sounded coming down your street or by the shape of the headlights shining through the Hawkins fog.

The rusted hinges groaned when the drivers side door opened. Eddie was moving, but he wasn’t sure why. Not when very fiber of his being was screaming at him to stay in the van—to keep driving. Did he listen?

Of course not.

Eddie Munson says your name so softly and with such disbelief, it almost sounded like fear coating his tongue.

You, unlike the boy—man before you, were frozen.

That was the first thing you’d noticed. Eddie still looked like…Eddie, just a manlier—a more rugged version of the boy you’d loved.

He had five o’clock shadow covering his jaw. Cheekbones that were more defined, the hollows more pronounced. His hair was shorter, shorter than you remember it, anyway and he wore boots—work boots. Gone we’re the torn-up Goodwill sneakers he’d saved up weeks to buy.

He was in a black henley and dark wash jeans, though he still had his signature wallet chain and denim jacket.

Your heart slammed in your chest. Your dinner churned in your belly.

You could go. You could turn around and ignore him, walking back into your home and do exactly what he did to you.

But you wouldn’t, you’re better than that—better than him.

“W-Why…what are you doing here?” He half-mumbled.

“Minding my own business.” The strength in your voice surprised you.

Eddie was quiet, very uncharacteristically so, before he shook his head…presumably in an attempt to sort out his thoughts.

“But you’re, you’re here. You’re in Hawkins.” You could practically see the proverbial egg shells he was walking on.

Was he…afraid of you?

Good. You thought. He should be.

You crossed your arms, “Nothing ever did get past you.”

He was stuck. Quicksand was pulling him down, holding his body tightly and dragging him into the Earth’s core. He couldn’t breathe, he was dying.

At least that’s what it felt like.

Eddie cleared his throat. “How, um, how long—“

“A while.” You interject.

How long had you been here? How long were you staying? It didn’t matter, the answer is the same.

“And you’re staying here.” He nodded to the blue house he’s rescued you from hundreds of times.

“I don’t see how that’s your business.” You we’re cold, colder than he’s ever heard you.

Eddie took you in now. You were the same in every way that mattered. Older, sure…but still you, and for that, Eddie couldn’t be more grateful.

You had new smile lines. Were you happy? He hoped to whatever God was listening that you were.

“It’s not, shit. I—I know it’s not. I just didn’t know—“

A noise from inside the house startled you. Your head whipped around, fast as lighting.

Shit. Maggie.

“You okay?” He asked.

No, no, no.

Ignoring him, you turn and start walking back to the house, when Eddie calls your name again, not daring to move from where he’d planted his feet.

You all but spit at him, “Leave, Eddie. There’s nothing left here for you.”

And you meant it.

When you were safely inside, you check Maggie, who was sound asleep.

The noise must have been the door, or the wind, but it scared to half to death.

He didn’t deserve to know her, and maybe that’s selfish, but you aren’t ready to share your daughter yet.

Not with him.

Who knows, maybe you never will be.

[hazybisou]

❛ FRAT PARTIES & THAT ONE EX ❜

🏹 the drink you spilt all over me, “lover's spit" left on repeat

paring ; fem!reader x luke hughes

summary ; after the win against michigan state, a huge party was thrown at one of the frats. while there, remi just so happened to run into an old flame of hers. obviously they hit it off, she just didn’t seem to remember he was her husband.

author’s note ; (this takes place last year in october) once again this is getting written at night. anyways can we talk about how cute fine asf 😫🥵 luke looks in the photo above. so cute 🥰. anyways continue sending in stuff about these two that i wanna talk about them. i feel like getting ear plugs rn to block out my brothers snoring. i have to share a room with him while i’m home for thanksgiving.

the room felt humid. well, of course it did. there must be over a hundred people in the house, maybe even more. umich football had just beat michigan state with a score of 29-7. the evening of, a party was thrown in celebration.

remi stood off to the side with some of her friends from the cheer team and some of her sorority sisters. although she was somewhat exhausted from all the shouting and stunts she had done earlier, she still went to the party. it was expected of her to be there as she‘s a part of the cheer team for umich.

she never really understood why she came to these things. she would much rather be in her bed, the blankets over her body as she binged watched christmas movies while eating ice cream. yet she was here. remi had this gut instinct saying she should be here, she needed to be here.

“remi, how come you don’t have a man?” katie, a friend of hers from cheer, asked.

remi shrugged, “i mean none of them seem to be the one, you know. every guy i’ve been with, all they want to do is fuck.”

“well, don’t you know?” eve, a sorority sister of remi’s, said. “i could treat you way better.” she said as she wrapped an arm around remi who chuckled as did everyone else.

remi gave her a kiss on the cheek. “i’m sure you can. i’m sure you all can but i dont swing that way.”

“such a shame. you’re hot as fuck.” vicky said. “i’d hit.”

remi playfully rolled her eyes. “i’m sure you would.” she looked behind vicky. “but maybe you should let someone else hit that sweet ass of yours.”

“who?” vicky said as she rose an eyebrow at remi.

remi pointed behind vicky and the group of girls looked to where remi was pointing to see a boy who was leaned up against a counter, staring at vicky.

vicky smiled at him and he turned away towards his friends. “he’s cute.” everyone hummed in agreement.

“yeah, he is.” remi smiled at vicky who had turned to face everyone. “now go.” remi told vicky who shrugged and began to walk over towards the boy.

they watched as the two began to talk.

“well, aren’t you quite the matchmaker?” katie said in a teasing tone. “maybe we should play matchmaker on you.”

remi grimaced . “yeah, no thanks. for all i know, you would put me on with McCarthy.” remi knew how flirtatious JJ could get but he just wasn’t her type.

“worth a shot.”

remi smiled and shook her head. “i am going to go get a drink. outside.” the girls gave her a nod and remi turned around to walk towards the sliding door which led outside. she made her way through the crowd of sweaty dancing bodies, and into the backyard of the frat house. she took note of how there were more people outside than inside despite it being bigger inside.

she made her way down the steps of the patio, red solo cup in hand as she made her way to the keg. some random guy had shown up with multiple kegs on behalf of the fraternity.

remi made her way to where she saw one available and just as she was about to grab the tap, someone else had gotten to it.

“oh.” remi let out surprised as she came to halt and waited for the guy to be down with it. she stood there awkwardly and patiently as she watched the guy pour beer into his cup.

he looked up to see remi standing there, looking anywhere but at him. she turned to look at him and smiled before looking back at the crowd in which was filled with blue and maize clothing. “oh, i’m sorry. were you gonna grab some?”

remi turned back to him and nodded, “yeah, but it’s fine. go ahead.” she dismissed.

“oh, no, go right ahead. i’m sorry i didn’t notice you earlier, i would let you gone first.” he explained.

“are you sure? i’m fine waiting.” he nodded. remi smiled at him before grabbing the tap out of his hand and pouring herself a drink.

once she was done she handed it back to him. “thank you…” she dragged off waiting for a name.

“luke.”

“thank you luke.” remi turned around and began to walk back inside to meet up with her friends again.

luke stood there with a smile on his face before snapping out of his trance, realizing remi had left and began to walk away. “wait!” he yelled over the extremely loud music as he began to jog to catch up with her.

remi looked next to her to see luke standing there. “yes?” she looked up at him. holy shit, he’s tall.

“i never got you’re name.” luke told her as he let out small breaths trying to get it back after his small jog.

remi pursed her lips before smiling. “you’ve got to earn it.” she said and began to walk up the steps to the patio as she drank from her cup.

luke walked next to her. “oh, come on. i told you my name. the least you could do is tell me yours.”

remi bit her lip slightly. “we’ll see.” she grabbed his hand and began to drag him inside. “for now, however, you’re gonna play a round of beer pong with me.”

luke grinned as he let her drag him inside towards the kitchen.

luke and remi were drunk. maybe a little too drunk.

the pair had won at beer pong and remi declared luke as her new partner for the game. after one round, the two had left the table and made their way towards the couch where they happened to spend hours on, talking.

luke had found out that remi was in her sophomore year and was majoring in health and medicine. he also seemed to find out that she was in Alpha Phi. although the team was close to most of the girls from Aphi, he never happened to see remi. remi told him how she was a part of the cheer team and how she has loved doing cheer ever since her junior year of high school.

remi got to know luke better. she found out he was in sophmore year as well and has the intention of majoring in sports management. he told remi how he played for the school’s hockey team as a defenseman. he wore number 43 so if remi were to ever go to a game of his, she would be able to spot him.

the two were too engrossed in their conversation that they lost track of time.

luke was in the middle of telling remi a story from when he was a kid. remi couldn’t seem to stop laughing. luke enjoyed hearing her laugh as he laughed himself.

“wait-wait, so you’re telling me that your brother ripped off his braces.” remi began to laugh again, “omg that must’ve been funny.”

luke nodded. “oh trust me, it was. he got a lecture from our mom.”

remi chuckled. “you’re have very interesting brothers, you know that.”

“i’m well aware.” he told her as the two smiled.

“what about you?” luke asked remi.

remi was confused “what about me?”

“you don’t have any funny, weird story from when you were a kid?” luke wondered.

remi thought. of course there was. she just didn’t know what to say. “i mean i broke my arm.”

luke raised his eyebrows. “must’ve been a fun trip to the hospital.”

“yes it very much was. the EMT was hot.”

luke chuckled. “you had a crush on the EMT?” remi nodded. “how cute.” luke smiled.

“you’re cute.” remi said as her hand rested on the cushion.

luke grinned. “i know.”

remi scoffed and grabbed the pillow next to her, hit luke in the chest with it. “you weren’t supposed to agree.”

“but it’s the truth and i know it is.” luke replied.

remi rolled her eyes playfully. the two sat there in silence for a second. remi took the moment in. she enjoyed having luke around. although she knew after tonight she might not see him.

“hey, i was wondering-”

“oh there you are!” the two turned towards the voice. vicky stood there with her eyes wide. “oh i’m sorry for interrupting whatever,” she motioned between the two, “this is.”

“it’s fine. what’s wrong?” remi asked.

“we got to go.” vicky said.

remi grabbed her phone and saw the time. 12:32. “oh shit. um, ok. luke it was talking to you but i really have to go.” remi told him as she got up and made her way towards vicky.

“yeah it was nice talking to you too.” he said as he sat there before saying, “wait before you go, can i have your insta?”

“oh sure it’s-”

“let’s go, we’re gonna be even more late.” vicky rushed remi.

remi turned to luke. “you know what, just give me yours and i’ll follow you back later.”

luke nodded and wait for remi to unlock her phone and open instagram. once she did, she handed her phone to luke who took it in his hands and began to type out his user. he handed her the phone back.

“i’ll see you later luke.” remi said to luke as she waved bye. vicky grabbed her hand and began to walk them out of the house.

“i never got your name.” he shouted after her but she had already gone out the door.

luke stood there. “well now what?”

remi had gotten back home at the sorority house and was now laying in bed with her pajamas on. a long sleeve and plaid pink pajamas. she had the covers over her as she scrolled through her phone.

she had opened instagram and saw a profile open. she looked at the user and her eyebrows furrowed slightly. remi looked at his bio and saw the name ‘luke hughes’. she smiled at the memory from earlier before she clicked follow and went to her homepage.

she spent the next couple of minutes on her phone before finally she turned it off and put it on her nightstand. vicky and danielle were already asleep as they had a long day tomorrow.

remi turned her small lamp off and turned towards the wall. she stared at a small photo of her as a little girl with a boy next to her. she was wearing a white dress while he was wearing a white polo shirt with khaki shorts. he was leaning down and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

the moonlight that shone through the curtain giving her a clear view of the photo. she looked in the corner and saw the initials l.h next to hers, ‘r.t’.

“huh. kinda looks like luke.”

she shrugged it off before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

remi groaned as the light peaked through the window. she grabbed a pillow and put it over her face to block out the sunlight.

“get up.” she heard. she opened her eyes and peaked over her pillow to see danielle and vicky standing there, up and ready.

“get out and leave me alone.” she grumbled and saw how vicky and danielle shrugged before exiting the room and into the hallway but not before closing the door.

remi grabbed the pillow and set it aside next to her. she stared at the ceiling for a good minute before she sat up. a little too quickly if anything. her eyes close as she brought her fingers to her temple. “oh, drinking is a bitch.”

she grabbed the covers and pulled them off of her as she got out of bed. she slipped on her slippers and began to make her bed.

remi spent the next 1 and a half getting ready. she showered, brushed her teeth, did her hair and much more.

she walked up to her night stand and grabbed her phone. she saw how she had gotten a dm on instagram. “who the fuck texted me?”

she unlocked her phone and opened instagram. remi relent to her dms and saw she had more than 4 dms from luke. she smiled to herself.

she quickly opened them as she began walking down the hallway and read the first one which was a simple hi.

she continued to read them until she got to one that seemed to make her stop what she was doing.

luke

i think we might’ve gotten married

luke

and before you start saying we were probably drunk i mean we got married but in kindergarten

i think we went to the same elementary

seen at 11:43

remi stood in the middle of the hallway and had a blank look on her face. some of her friends came out of their rooms and gave remi a weird look, some asking each other if she was ok.

what does he mean they got married? she didn’t remember any of that. “married? i barely remember anyone from elementary, let alone kindergarten.” remi murmured to herself.

remi got to thinking. surely, her parents must have had a photo of this supposed “wedding”. when remi had moved into her dorm during her freshaman year, her parents had given her a box full of photos from when she was a little girl. when remi moved into the sorority house, she had hung up all photos onto a bulletin board next to her bed. the photo. from last night.

she snapped out of her trance and began to text him back.

remi

WHAT??

that’s crazy

there is no way my husband from when i was 4 years old is you

seen at 11:45 am

luke

oh so you remember

seen at 11:45 am

remi

just now yes

seen at 11:45 am

luke

i doubt that

seen at 11:45 am

remi

oh rlly?? ok what was the name of the school?

seen at 11:46 am

luke

you a stalker or smth?

seen at 11:46 am

remi laughed and watched as luke told her the name. “what the fuck?” she thought out loud.

remi

no shit

i went there too

well for a while until i moved here from toronto

seen at 11:49 am

luke

uhh maybe it’s a coincidence

seen at 11:49 am

remi

sure

yknow what give me a sec

seen at 11:50 am

remi turned around and began to walk back to her room. she opened the door and made her way to her bed before she jumped onto it. she searched her bulletin board and found the photo of her and that boy. she snapped a quick photo and sent it to luke.

remi

*sent a photo*

opened at 11:52 am

luke

ok that’s weird

seen at 11:52 am

remi

how so?

seen at 11:52 am

luke

bc that’s me

seen at 11:52 am

remi’s eyes widened. “holy shit.” it all made sense to remi now. the little boy in the photo was luke. the initials on the bottom, ‘l.h’ meant luke hughes. “aw i got married.” remi smiled. she felt her feet swing in the air.

remi

it all makes sense now

look at the bottom

r.t + l.h

you are my husband 🥰🥰

seen at 11:55 am

luke

i’m guessing you’re my wife 🙄

seen at 11:55 am

remi

you know you love me

seen at 11:55 am

luke

🌚 sure

seen at 11:55 am

remi

shut up

seen at 11:55 am

luke

well that’s just amazing

i meet my ex wife once again

seen at 11:55 am

remi

technically we never got a divorce sooo 😉

seen at 11:55 am

luke

wtv 🙄

seen at 11:56 am

remi

you’re so sassy

i like it 😉

seen at 11:56 am

luke

ok moving on

how abt this

you give me your number and we can go on a little date

i’d like to see my wife again

seen at 11:56 am

remi

oh i’m sure you would

seen at 11:56 am

luke

so what abt them digits??

seen at 11:56 am

remi

never say that ever again pls

but fine

xxx-xxx-xxxx

seen at 11:56 am

luke

thank you

also fully noted

seen at 11:56 am

remi

how about tmrw?? at like 6:30

seen at 11:57 am

luke

let me think about it

🤔🤔

deal

seen at 11:57 am

remi

perfect

seen at 11:57 am

remi

i gotta go

i’ll text you later hubby 😉

seen at 11:57 am

luke

bye remi

seen at 11:57 am

remi smiled at the fact he called her by the name he used to say almost every day when he was little.

remi

goodbye lukey

seen at 11:57 am

omg it’s done after like two days 😱😱😣 anywyas it’s 3:41 am rn and i am too tired and have class early morning today kill me 😣 anywyas hopefully you enjoy this and umm SEND IN MORE STUFF ABT REMI & LUKE 👹👹 i love answering all the asks i’ve been getting 🥰 bye bye 🫶

[probably-writing-x]

Healed and Hurt.

Conrad Fisher x Reader

Summary: Conrad had broken your heart, and broken all of you along with it. You’d finally put the pieces back together… but there was just something your heart could never ignore.

Author’s Note: Can people please make more TSITP gifs so I can get more inspo for writing these pretty pretty please??? Y’all seemed to love the other tsitp one shot so I hope you love this just as much xoxo

You weren’t sure of the moment you’d lost him. But you knew the exact moment when you realised that you had. He’d come back from surfing, and it had started raining outside in Cousins - a rare summer shower even on the hottest day. Conrad had showered and came downstairs to where you were curled up on the couch, eyes closed. The Conrad that you knew would have grabbed the nearest blanket and settled it over your shoulders, and taken up the spot closest to you so that, when you awoke, you could snuggle into him and he’d share in your comfort. But this Conrad had taken a seat on the opposite couch, his eyes focused on a distant spot somewhere in the lounge. You’d woken up when it got oddly cold and realised that he’d left the garden doors open, letting in sprays of rain and the coldest wind.

“Con?” You’d spoken, voice full of sleep, “Everything okay?”

He looked at you with an off, empty look in his eyes - like he was looking at a stranger. You knew then, and you still couldn’t figure out why.

That wasn’t your Conrad. That wasn’t the Conrad that loved you.

———

That exact moment had been four months ago, only a week before things ended between the two of you. You’d cried more than your heart could cope with, and you’d had enough sleepless nights to make it feel like you wouldn’t sleep again. You’d stopped eating and stopped enjoying the smallest things in your life. Until, one day, you just felt… better. There was no specific cause or cure, just that you were yourself once again. The self that you’d been before Conrad. Healed.

Your parents had owned a house in Cousins for the past couple of years and that’s how you’d first met the Fisher family. This weekend would be the first time you were returning to Cousins since you and Conrad had finished, and it was agitating a pain in your chest that you tried your best to ignore.

“(Y/n)?” It’s your Mom’s voice that snaps you back to reality, “Do you mind taking a trip to the store?”

You look at her and blink a second time, feeling your mind return to the setting of the beach house, “Yeah, yeah, of course I will.”

“Thanks honey,” She smiles, “There’s a list on the kitchen island.”

You nod and she steps back out of your bedroom, letting you return to welcome solitude.

There was something about being back here - this house, this town - everything reminded you of him.

———

The shop is relatively empty when you get there and you make your way around the aisles picking up the items from your Moms list. It was thanksgiving next week so these were just the bits to keep you fed between now and then. She definitely wouldn’t trust you with the real thanksgiving shop.

As you round onto the next aisle, your cart bumps into someone coming the other way.

“Oh shit my-“ A familiar voice speaks quickly and you glance up to see Stephen at the end of your cart.

“Stephen!” You grin, “Hi!”

He grins just as widely and stretches out his arms, “Holy shit (y/n) it’s good to see you.”

His arms wrap you in a bear hug and he breathes deeply as your chin perches atop his shoulder, stood on your tiptoes to do so.

“What are you doing here in Cousins?” You ask him, “I thought you guys were only here for summer.”

“Yeah well my Mom and Suzanne decided to start doing thanksgiving too because they think we should see each other more often,” He shrugs his shoulders, “I’m not complaining, it’s more fun here than back home.”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” You nod, “I didn’t even think to ask you guys if you’d be here. I mean, normally I’d ask Co-“

Both of you stop and he looks at you with that frown between his eyebrows as if watching the discomfort settle between you.

You clear your throat, “How are the boys?”

Stephen smiles that sort of sympathetic smile, “They’re good. I’m sure they’d love to see you, and my sister would too - she’s going to hate that she didn’t come to the store with me.”

You laugh and drag a hand through your hair, the mention of Conrad and the Fishers bringing back that same glimpse of empty pain you’d had for weeks after things had ended. You avert your eyes from him towards the large windows in the store and notice that the heavens have opened, rain pouring onto the concrete.

“Shit, I knew I should’ve brought the car,” Stephen winces, “I better call Jere-“

“No, no, don’t be silly,” You shake your head, “I’ll drive you home, it’s the same way anyway.”

“(y/n) I always knew you were an angel,” Stephen jokes with a bright smile.

He helps you put your things through the checkout and then the two of you clamber into your car, dumping your bags into the back.

You drive the short distance in the direction of both houses, the Fisher’s house only being a street away from your own. The roads are all familiar, a second home within itself. But the sight of their exact house, as you pull into the driveway, settles an uneasy feeling on your chest. You ignore it.

“Thanks (Y/n),” Stephen smiles, “And, hey, don’t be a stranger. We’d all still love to see you, I’m sure they’ll all say the same when I tell them you were here.”

You smile and go to respond when your car door is pulled open.

“(Y/n) (y/l/n)!” It’s Jeremiah, his arm holding your door as he stands in the opening, grinning wildly as his hair gets rapidly soaked by the rain, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Driving Stephen back to avoid the rain,” You laugh gently, “Which you should be doing too.”

“Please come in, Belly’s going to kill me if you were here and she didn’t get to say hi,” He has those sort of eyes that it’s impossible to say no to, the same golden retriever look that ran through his personality.

You turn your keys in the ignition and pull them out, “Alright, just five minutes.”

Jeremiah reaches out a hand to you and stretched one side of his hoodie out so you can both duck under the material, the three of you hurrying towards the house.

It’s all so beautifully familiar. Stephen grumbling about the rain in his hair and Jeremiah laughing the same way he always did, the warmth of the walls in this house, the sense of home.

The door shuts behind you and you feel it again - that little bit of relief that you really had moved on. This place held good memories - for the year that you’d been dating Conrad he’d been everything and his family came with that. Losing him didn’t mean you lost the sense of family that his own people had always given you.

“Okay, now we can say a proper hello,” Jeremiah laughs, wrapping his arms around you as he lifts you up from the ground, spinning you around before settling you back down.

“It’s good to see you too, Jere,” You return, “I’m sorry, I had no idea you guys were back in Cousins.”

“Yeah, well, it was a last minute decision,” He nods, “Come on, I think Belly’s in the kit-“

Stephen grabs Jeremiah’s arm before he can go any further, “Um, Jere, is Conrad here?”

“Oh shit yeah I didn’t eve-“

“Guys, seriously,” You shake your head at them, “Come on, what happened with me and Con was a long time ago. We’re all grown ups here.”

They look at you with a slight uncertainty but nod anyway, walking through the back of the house.

Your steps pause ever so slightly when you catch sight of him but you don’t let it show, letting your eyes look around the rest of the room before falling back to him.

Conrad stands up almost instantly, his entire being alert.

“(Y/n).”

Your name from his lips turns a knot into your stomach but it dissipates when you focus on it for long enough.

“Hey Con,” You smile, running a hand through your hair.

“What are yo-“

“Oh my god (Y/n)!” Belly squeals and hurries over, engulfing you in a velocity fuelled hug, “What are you doing here?”

You laugh and squeeze her before stepping back, “Just dropping Stephen home.”

“Yeah, it was raining like hell when I was in the store so (Y/n) offered to drive back,” Stephen comments.

“You, uh, you hate driving in the rain,” Conrad clears his throat, eyes on you as if nobody else was there.

You let out a breathy laugh and let your eyes lock onto him, your fingers tightening around the car keys in your hand, “Yeah, a few months ago I did. I guess I just got better.”

He swallows the lump in his throat, his lips parting.

“I should probably get going,” You clear your throat, “My Mom will kill me if I let that ice cream melt.”

“We’ll catch up soon, okay?” Belly squeezes your arm, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

You wave goodbye and step back out, feeling the weight on your chest release just enough that it no longer feels like it’s there. You step back out of the house and, for the first time in a long time, Conrad races through your mind. You turn the music up just a little louder in your car so it’ll somewhat drown out the thought.

———

The following night, there’s a party down at the beach that it’s impossible to say no to when Jeremiah, Belly and Stephen have all been convincing you all day. You change into a pink ditsy floral dress that has a corset style top and a simple pair of white converse - they’d only end up full of sand anyway. It was cold enough that you knew it was a terrible idea to just wear a dress, so you throw over a baggy grey jumper and roll up the sleeves twice so they don’t hang over your hands.

Once they’ve texted to say they’re already there, you leave and take the short walk down to the beach, bag tucked over your shoulder.

“Hey! (Y/n)!” Cameron waves you over to where he’s filling up a red cup with a can of Sprite.

“Hey Cam,” You smile, “How are you doing?”

He nods, “I’m thinking this party is a terrible idea in the middle of November.”

You laugh, “I’m hoping a beer will warm me up a bit,” You take a cup and fill it from the keg beside him.

“How are you doing anyway?” Cam nudges you, “Is it weird being back?”

You take a second of looking at him before you respond, invisibly composing yourself, “No, it’s okay. What happened with me and Conrad was… and obviously I wouldn’t want to… I’m fine. We’re fine.”

He nods, taking it as certain sign that he shouldn’t persist with the topic, “I think Belly and the guys are over that way.”

You follow him over to where Belly, Jere and Stephen are all sat around a big campfire, warming their hands on the floating heat.

“Hey, are you not freezing in that dress?” Stephen looks at you slightly bewildered.

“Yeah, I’m used to never packing clothes to come here because I always have summer clothes in my closet in the house but… that doesn’t exactly work in november,” You wince, running your hands over the skin of your thighs.

“Yeah who thought it was a good idea to have a beach party in the middle of november?” Belly shakes her head, “It’s meant to get freezing tonight.”

Jere shrugs, “Where’s the fun in that attitude Bels?”

The chatter continues but you find your eyes drifting around the beach for a pair of eyes that you’re yet to find. Somewhere in the lost time, you get through a few more beers and the sun continues to set over the Cousins beach until the cold really starts to set in. The beer is warming your system just a little but far from enough.

A shiver runs over you and draws goose pimples to your skin, so you take it as your cue to leave, saying your goodbyes before heading up the beach towards the path that let you back to the houses.

You’re not sure why. But your feet take you in the direction of the street adjacent to your own, one you’d driven up and walked up countless times. One you missed.

In the one house that catches your attention, there’s a light on out the back and you find yourself pushing through the back garden gate into the yard.

“Jere?” It’s Conrad’s voice that speaks out and you turn to find him sat at the edge of the pool, his feet dragging below the surface.

“Um, no, it’s me,” You clear your throat, “Sorry, I’m not really sure why I came this way.”

He keeps his eyes on you, pushing himself up to stand at the poolside, “Do you-“

“Sorry, I should probably go home I-“

“I bet you’re freezing,” He interrupts, gesturing towards the doors into the house, “Do you want to come inside? I can make you a hot drink or something.”

“Um,” You look at the slightly pleasing look in his eyes and realise it’s impossible to say anything other than, “Sure.”

Conrad nods and pulls open the garden door, stepping aside to let you in.

“I think my Mom and Laurel are out at a bar tonight, it’s just me here,” Conrad comments as you follow him through to the kitchen.

You two spent every minute together when you’d been dating - thankful to be living in the same city without the hours long drive between you that you had at home. This kitchen was where he’d first kissed you. You’d been sitting atop the kitchen counter and he’d been making pancakes at the stove. You laughed when he failed at flipping one of them and he’d come over to make you try the first one - telling you it was good luck to try the first pancake of the night. He’d wiped a bit of syrup from the side of your mouth and the next thing you knew he was kissing you. His lips were uncertain at first but they soon-

“(Y/n)?” Conrad’s voice slices through.

You don’t remember ever hopping up onto the countertop but you’re in the exact spot you’d been in on that pancake morning.

“Do you want cocoa or tea?”

“Tea, please,” You swallow the lump in your throat, dropping your bag down to the counter beside you.

He nods and sets the kettle onto the stove, cracking up the heat before turning around to lean back against the counter opposite you, the water waiting to whistle to a boil behind him.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks you, crossing his arms over his chest.

You look at him and study his face for a moment, a face you’d memorised over and over again, and then shake your head, “That I’m fucking freezing.”

He laughs gently, the kind that rumbles the air, “That’ll teach you to not wear a dress in winter.”

“I didn’t have anything else,” You raise your hands in defence, “And this outfit looks cute.”

“It’s the most impractical outfit ever I mean seriously you must be cold as-“

Without you realising, Conrad has stepped forward from the counter and his hand has come to rest on your thigh - enough for you to feel the electricity charging through you.

“Sorry I-“

Before he can retract, you fly a hand down to press over the top of his, relaxing a little at the contact, “It’s okay. Your hands are warm.”

Conrad looks up at you through the hair that falls around his eyes and you bring your other hand up to brush the strands away from his face. He winces at the cold of your fingers when they brush his face and brings his own hand up to wrap around yours on his cheek to warm your skin there.

Both of you are silent, trapped in the most contact you’ve had in months. You hold each other there for just a moment before the kettle whistles behind him and it seems to snap you back to where you need to be.

“Thank god, I’m dying for a tea,” You pull both of your hands away from him and hop down from the counter, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

Conrad stays stood where he was, his hands resting on the countertop in front of him as he squeezes his grip against the edge of it.

You go about making two teas and hand one of the mugs over to him, wrapping your own two palms around the heat of the other.

Conrad winces as the liquid touches his lips, blowing gently on the rippling surface of the drink. You’d always loved his lips. The way they spoke, the way they laughed, the way they kissed. The indent of his cupid’s bow and the shadow of stubble that surrounded them when he didn’t shave. You’d always loved him.

“How come you didn’t come to the beach tonight?” You ask him, your hands burning a little under the heat of the mug.

“In this weather? It’s stupid.”

You shake your head, “You prefer the cold anyway.”

He stops for a moment and sets the mug down, “I figured you wouldn’t want me to be there, and I didn’t want to ruin your night.”

You purse your lips together and look away from him, down at an invisible mark on the floor, “You wouldn’t ruin it.”

Conrad doesn’t speak.

“Come on, just because we split up doesn’t mean we have to act like we don’t know each other,” You comment, “We’re always going to run in the same circles.”

He looks up at you again, studying you, “But we didn’t just split up. I broke your heart (y/n).”

You find yourself smiling just a little, “Anyone would think you’re full of yourself Con.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean-“

“I know,” You interject, taking a deep breath, “You did break my heart. But time heals, surprisingly. I’m good now, I’m happy.”

You watch his face falter for just a moment. Conrad was right - he had broken your heart. You’d been hurt by him. But things had changed. You couldn’t hate him forever, and you couldn’t hate your life without him forever. But, the truth was, he didn’t feel even close to being over you. And it killed him to think you’d already slipped away. Far enough away that he couldn’t pull you back.

“I’m glad you’re happy” He swigs the drink, “That’s all I ever wanted.”

You’re not sure what makes you say it. But you do without thinking.

“Really?” You raise your brows, “It didn’t feel like that last summer.”

“(Y/n)…”

“I fought for you Conrad. I really did,” You feel your voice tremble a little but regain it, “I remember even after I knew that you were done with me, I was trying so fucking hard to fix it.”

He’s silent, eyes watching you.

“Two nights before you ended it, I remember I stayed up after you thought I’d gone to sleep and I felt you pull away from me. You pulled your arm from underneath me, you took your arm away from around me, you pushed yourself back to the other side of the bed. And I knew you’d wake up and blame it on being cold in the night. But I felt you. I felt you go. And that’s when I gave up. When I knew there was no saving what you didn’t want to fix,” You shake your head, shaking out your hands to fight the way your body seems to tremble against your will.

“I never wanted to lose you (Y/n), I just… I got scared and I-“

“I don’t need you to explain things Conrad. I spent days and nights trying to figure out where the hell I went wrong. And I made my peace with it - if you weren’t going to love me that was fine, it didn’t mean I wasn’t capable of being loved.”

“I did love you, I do love you,” His words are almost pleading and he steps closer to you, still two feet standing between your bodies, “That never changed.”

You look down and smile a little at the thought, words that would have been wrenching at your heart a few months ago. Today, they settle into you and fall into your system like they weren’t ever said to have an impact.

“I shouldn’t have come here tonight Con,” You look up and take a deep breath, “Thank you for the tea, and for letting me in, and for… I don’t know, maybe we can class this as an impromptu therapy session. But I should be going.”

When you turn around, you notice the pounding rain outside, pattering against the glass and into the open cover of the swimming pool. It’s relentless, the kind that you can hardly see through.

“Stay,” Conrad speaks from behind you.

You turn around to look at him, his eyes soft as if there could never be a bad intention behind them.

“You can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Your breath falls deeply from your chest, staring into eyes that had once broken you into pieces as you say, “Okay.”

———

The following morning, you step out of Conrad’s room and into the house. Everyone else is asleep, or at least you suppose they are from the shut bedroom doors and faint snores. You collect up your things and pad quietly along the wooden floors, wincing when one of the boards creaks on the staircase. You slip out of the back of the house, knowing the shortcut that would lead to your own house before your parents woke up to realise you’d never made it home.

It’s a crisp morning but the sun is just starting to warm the air and you squint against the bright light. Just visible at the end of the boardwalk leading towards the water, you can make out the shape of a boy sat in solitude. You’re not sure what draws you to him, maybe the same thing that had drawn you in the first place.

Conrad turns around when he hears your feet against the wooden pier and watches as you sit down in the seat beside him along the wooden bench, both of you looking out at the still water.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks, clearing his throat when the words come out dry.

You nod, “I always said your bed was comfy.”

Conrad nods, folding his arms over his chest, “The same can’t be said for those couches.”

You smile a little and look down at your hands in your lap, “Thank you for letting me stay.”

He shrugs, “It’s the least I could do. My Mom would kill me if I let you walk home alone in the rain.”

You’re both silent.

“I should pro-“

“Can I ask you something?” He cuts you off.

You settle back into your seat and look at him briefly, turning your head back to the water soon after, “Of course.”

“How did you get over it?” Conrad asks so simply as if the question has been playing on his mind a hundred times, “How did you make it look so easy?”

You take a deep breath, “It wasn’t easy, Con. I cried for weeks over you.”

He clenches his jaw, the mention of your hurt making him hate himself a little more, “But what about now?”

“I was home and you were in Boston. It was easier to get over you when we weren’t around each other. I just… I realised I could be fine by myself,” You swallow the lump in your throat, “I just convinced myself that there was nothing I could have done. That in a thousand lives in a thousand universes, you’d have still done the same - because you’d have just fallen out of love with me. And so it was out of my control.”

“You really think I fell out of love with you?” Conrad looks at you with his eyebrows slightly raised, his lips parting as if he’s echoing the hurt into silence.

“Come on Con,” You turn your head to him, “I was there. I watched you slip away.”

“I-“ He takes a deep breath, “I meant what I said yesterday. I was scared. It wasn’t that I fell out of love with you. Hell, I think I fell so in love with you that that’s why I jumped. Because I’d wake up and Id think of you and then I’d want to see you all day, and I’d go to bed thinking of you and every single day I knew you were all I ever wanted.”

You feel the lump form in your throat, the electricity coursing through your hands that just seem to want to reach for him.

“People would mention your name and I’d be listening for the rest of their sentence. I couldn’t see colours without thinking of you, I couldn’t hear songs without reminding myself of you, I couldn’t do anything without being consumed by you,” He gasps as if all air has left his lungs and his hand lifts to press against his chest, “You became me, my whole life. And I was so fucking terrified of it. I just… it’s stupid, I know it is. But I loved you too much to ever think I’d be enough for you, like I was waiting for the moment Id hurt you.”

“And you don’t think ending it was what hurt me?” You point out.

He laughs a little and you see the tension release a tiny bit, “Yeah, yeah, I guess I should’ve thought of that.”

“You know the worst thing you can do when you love someone that much is to push them away? To make them feel like they’re not loved, not wanted, not worth it,” You explain, “You might’ve felt all of those things Conrad but did you ever try to tell me that? To show me that?”

He closes his eyes and swallows the lump in his throat, “I want to. Now, I want to.”

You shift yourself on the wooden bench and draw your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, “Okay.”

“Wh- what?” Conrad blinks, “I don-“

“We’re not getting back together, Con. I’m not the same girl that I was when we first got together, and you’re clearly not the same guy. But I think we need to get to need to get to know these versions of ourselves - and if those two love each other, then they’ll make it work,” You nod, more certain of yourself than ever before, “I’m (Y/n).”

Conrad looks down at your outstretched hand and smiles to himself, clasping it to shake his hand with yours, “I’m Conrad.”

He keeps his hand around yours and his thumb brushes your skin. When his grip releases, you watch his hand flex slightly away from the loss of touch.

You look into his eyes, the ones that pierced into your soul so often. And you feel a little piece of yourself melt under his gaze, a little piece of your heart swell softly.

“Well, (Y/n), do you like pancakes?”

“I do.”

He outstretches a hand once again and this time you lace your fingers with him, a course of adoration flooding through you.

You could do this.

You had healed.

You could be you, and he could be him. And the two could cross once more.

[bloggingboutburgers]

this past week my qpp of almost two years broke up with me. and i know for you, you said you wouldn't necessarily feel heartbroken if your qpr came to an end, but for me, it felt more heartbreaking than some of my past romantic breakups. this whole thing made me wonder if maybe im not queerplatonic or aro enough to be in a qpr, or if id ever want to be in a qpr again. but seeing you post about your qpr gives me hope that queerplatonic love is something that i can experience fully. so thank you for always sharing your story, because that's what's helping me heal right now <3

Aah, to be perfectly honest, as much as I sorta "downplay" it compared to what it must feel for people who experience romantic attraction... I've had a time where I almost felt like I couldn't go on with my QPP as well and the sheer thought of it was really hard to bear too, so my words here aren't necessarily being very fair to the reality of things.

It was during the travel ban of March 2020 to November 2021 where citizens of my country and others weren't allowed to enter the US unless we spent 15 days in a country that wasn't banned. It made it much harder than usual to visit my partner and as it was nearing 2 years with nobody aware it was going on anymore and US people more concerned about whether they'd be able to have turkey for Thanksgiving, my hope was running really thin. So for a few days in mid-October, as I was at rock bottom, I was starting to write in passing to my partner about how maybe going on wasn't worth it because the separation was too hard on us, it wasn't showing signs of stopping, and the whole thing maybe wasn't worth the pain if they could live their life happily and not have to worry about me who couldn't visit.

And then we videocalled at some point, and when they tearfully told me that even if it did end then and there, they wanted me to keep the promise ring they'd recently given me, I suddenly felt a quiet rage in me going like "No. Fuck this. Look at them. I love them. And I love this too much to allow some cruel governmental decision to end it. If it ever ends, it'll be because WE want it to end. Not because of shit like this."

...I'm making it sound super dramatic but yeah long story short this is also a big reason why we're planning to get married. So that when the US government decides to put a ban on countries including mine again, they can't stop us from vibing together this time.

I guess... I still don't wanna 100% assume we'll be together forever because I don't wanna trap them in a situation they may no longer feel happy in. We're doing great now, but I still have it in the back of my mind that maybe someday they'll get sick of me (they say they never will and that'd be dope if they never did, but never say never and all), or we'll both just want other things, and if it ends like that, then... Yeah, that'd be alright. Much more alright than the way it almost ended.

(...Oh, and for the record, if a friendship of mine ended abruptly, or if my brothers stopped being on good terms with me, I'm pretty sure I'd be just as heartbroken, to be fair. And it'd feel like my reality was collapsing a little. I guess anything ending, any human connection ending, has that effect to a degree, if it's important enough, after all.)

Though describing things like that does make it a bit harder to define what makes it "queerplatonic" as opposed to "romantic", I still... Just have that feeling in my gut that it isn't romance, y'know? It's kinda... A mix between being close friends and being an old married couple without ever having gone through the grandiose passion-honeymoon phase. Maybe that phase IS what defines romance per se. I don't know. Maybe someday I'll find more answers, but it's kinda hard to find answers when you have no idea how romance works to begin with I guess 🙈

In any case... Sorry if I caused any confusion or if I made you question your validity. The thing is pretty simple to be honest: if you feel you're aro, you're veeeeeery likely to BE aro. Because nobody can make that call but you and nobody can name the relationships you have but you. And if amongst everything you even FOUND the words "aro" or "queerplatonic" in a world where those identities and types of relationships are so aggressively hidden or erased, then it's gotta stand for something.

...I guess at the very least THIS I can be certain of TwT Sorry I'm a bit messy about all of this myself, I'm still also going on about it trying to figure it out day by day, but I owed it to you and everyone to be honest. These things are hard to define and I hope to keep finding better and better words to do so someday. TwT

[supernovafics]

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: explicit language, some mentions of alcohol, parent drama (both reader’s and steve’s parents suck)

summary: in which your parents and steve’s come over for dinner 

author's note: this has absolutely nothing to do with the harry styles song but the title of it is just very fitting so yeah<33 i’ve been rewatching a lot of gilmore girls this fall season so i feel like that's helped me get the hang of writing awkward/tense dinners with family lol so this needed to be done

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

When your and Steve’s parents first suggested this “early Thanksgiving dinner,” you thought that it wouldn’t actually happen. 

The initial idea sounded pretty funny to you— your parents and Steve’s parents would have a full on dinner at your apartment a week before the actual holiday. Yeah, right.

It sounded like the kind of idea that parents that really cared about spending time with their children would have, and that wasn’t how you’d necessarily describe yours or Steve’s. 

A month ago, when they told you about the ski trip the four of them were going on during the entire week of Thanksgiving, you expected to just not see them probably until Christmas— and that felt like a bit of relief to you because spending time with your parents wasn’t your favorite hobby.  

But then you remembered how, only during the holidays, your parents always had a need to show, or maybe more so “prove” to themselves, that they actually cared about you. So, of course, they wouldn’t let this stupid holiday go, and instead they thought that it would be best if you all did something early and together. 

And sadly, none of the immediate excuses that you and Steve came up with worked because your moms had solutions for everything.

When you told yours that the kitchen in the apartment was too small to cook for this kind of elaborate dinner, she simply told you that they’d buy and bring all of the food and you and Steve wouldn’t have to cook at all. She also not-so-jokingly mentioned that she would’ve never trusted either of you two cooking anyway.

And when Steve told his mom that the current dining table you two had was way too small to fit all six of you, she promptly had one ordered and delivered to your door in just a week. It was an expensive dark wood set that could comfortably fit six people, and you and Steve spent hours struggling to build it the day it showed up at your front door. It took up an obscene amount of space, but it did actually look kind of nice.

Now it was weeks later and the dreaded night was finally here, but you still tried to come up with any way to avoid it from happening. 

“And we’re sure that we really can’t get out of doing this tonight?” You asked Steve as you folded the blanket that was lying half-hazardly on the couch. “I could call my mom and say that we’ve somehow fallen tragically ill in the last hour?”

“I’m ninety-five percent sure that they’re all already on their way.”

“Shit.”

“It’ll be fine,” Steve said, and then he considered his words. “Actually, it will probably suck, but overall, we will be fine.” 

You let out a sigh and placed the now folded blanket back on the couch and then started cleaning off the coffee table, stacking the random magazines in a neat pile and then adjusting Harold’s cage so that it was nicely in the center. Your and Steve’s shared pet hamster was currently nibbling on the food that you had put in his bowl only moments ago. 

An abrupt feeling of worry shot through you as you looked around the apartment. The place was clean— probably the cleanest it had ever been— since you and Steve had spent the day doing everything to avoid either of your parents saying anything bad about the place. However, in the grand scheme of things, you knew that it didn’t matter because they’d still hate the apartment. They would hate how you two decided to furnish and decorate it, and they would passive aggressively make fun of the place for however long this dinner would have to be.

“Let’s try not to think about how bad this night is gonna be and just be glad that we’re not gonna have to suffer alone, like usual,” Steve said, practically reading your mind and the look on your face, as he started setting plates out on the new table. 

He was completely right. This was the first time that a collective Thanksgiving was happening among all of you. Usually, it was just you alone with your parents in Chicago visiting family members that you never talked to, and Steve was doing the same exact thing except he was in Indianapolis. You’d always end up calling each other at the end of the night from the hotel or family house you were staying at, and you’d tell each other stories about whatever weird family members you encountered or how boring it all was. 

It did make things feel a bit better that, for once, you didn’t have to go through this alone and neither did Steve.

“You’re right,” You said with a nod and then smiled. “We’ll be going through this shitshow together.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door and since Steve was closer he went to answer it. You took one brief and final look around the apartment before heading toward the door too, so Steve didn’t have to be by himself in this greeting.

“Hi,” He said when he opened the door and saw all of your parents standing there. There was a bright smile on his face and he effortlessly turned on that “Steve Harrington charm” that people had adored in high school— you hadn’t even gone to the same high school as him, but you still heard so many of the stories.

A chorus of Hi’s and Hello’s were heard as your moms entered the apartment first since they were carrying all of the food and your dads followed in right behind them.

“I still hate that you moved into a place that doesn’t have a front doorman, or, at least, a buzzer system,” Were your dad’s first words to you; deciding against saying the simple “How are you?” that you had expected. “You two should get a better lock on your door.”

You laughed a bit. “We live in Hawkins, not New York, Dad. I don’t think anyone is really itching to rob us anytime soon.” 

“Anything can happen,” He responded, looking at you seriously. “I’ll bring you a new one when we get back from Colorado.”

You only nodded at his words instead of saying anything to rebut them; you knew that he overall meant well. “Okay.”

Your attention turned to your mom and she pulled you into a hug that felt way too forced before pulling away and giving you a quick onceover. “Oh… Is that what you’re wearing?”

You thought that your outfit was fine; a V-neck navy blue knit sweater that was a bit cropped and a simple pair of black jeans. But, your mom always managed to find something wrong with everything, so this reaction to your current outfit didn’t necessarily surprise you; it did still annoy you all the same, though.

“Oh, um, no I was just about to change,” You told her and forced a small smile.

She nodded at that. “Okay, that’s good, that’s good. You go change while Christine and I get the table set up.”

You started heading toward your room but looked back at Steve first. He was in a conversation with his parents that looked like they were doing much more of the talking than him. As if sensing your gaze on him, his eyes met yours and he gave you a hopeful look and that was enough to make you feel a little better.

It didn’t take long for you to change. You kept your sweater on but traded your jeans for the long black silk skirt that your mom had always liked on you. You hoped this slightly different outfit would be enough to satisfy her, and if not, you were willing to suffer through her inevitable look of disappointment. 

You lingered in your room, tidying up your desk for no particular reason and then deciding to remake your bed. It was clear that you were stalling, avoiding having to face your parents again, and as much as you wanted to continue doing that, you also didn’t want to leave Steve to fend for himself. You were supposed to be suffering together, after all. 

You immediately noticed the dining table when you walked out of your bedroom. The food was now nicely set out and there were even brown placemats sitting underneath the plates that Steve had already set out. It was all set up in a way that would’ve felt nice and wholesome if either of your families had ever remotely felt like the ones portrayed in most TV shows or movies. But, they weren’t anywhere close to being like that, so this all just felt weirdly forced.

Of course, you didn’t say that, though.

Instead, you sat down with everyone at the table and desperately hoped that the next few hours of your life would breeze by. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“From the brochure, the pictures of the cabin look really great. We hope it actually looks that way in person,” Steve’s mom, Christine, said. 

You took another bite of the mac and cheese on your plate as you continued to listen to your parents talk about their ski trip that was happening next week, which they had been doing for the last twenty minutes and you fully didn’t mind it. Since the conversation wasn’t centered on either you or Steve, things actually didn’t feel tense or nervewracking. If you could just make your parents talk about themselves during the entire dinner, you would probably end the night with a smile on your face. 

“Oh, and there are a lot of bedrooms too,” Your mom chimed in before taking another sip from the wine glass in her hand. “Maybe you two could take a trip up there soon and invite your friends to go too.” 

“Yeah, that would be nice,” You said with a small nod.

“Enough talking about the trip, though, that’s probably so boring for your kids to hear about,” Your dad said, and you internally sighed because you knew the exact direction the conversation was about to go in. You felt him look at you. “How’s school been going? The semester is almost over.”

“It’s been good,” You answered, keeping your response short and sweet. You decided not to mention that you really couldn’t care less about the majority of your classes because none of what you were doing in any of them felt like it really mattered. 

“Okay, and your grades and everything are fine, right?”

You only nodded in response to his question, hoping that your lack of actual words would signal to him that you wanted to bring an end to this topic of conversation. Of course, that was only wishful thinking.

“That’s good,” Your mom said. “You have to make sure your grades stay like how they were in high school, or even better, for when you transfer to the University of Chicago. We don’t want to have any reason for them not to accept you again.” 

You suddenly felt like you were right back in middle school and high school, where your conversations with your parents solely revolved around school; what your grades were, if you were doing your homework and completing assignments on time, and studying for tests. It always annoyed you that the only times they would bother to pay attention to you was when it came to that stuff. Other than that, you were always seemingly an afterthought, never a bigger priority than their jobs. 

In a way, this entire conversation should’ve been expected; it was always inevitable. Pretty much anytime you talked to your parents in recent months, the discussion always seemed to circle its way back to that school and you going there in two years instead of right now, like they had wanted you to.

“I’m still so surprised that you decided to not go to the University of Chicago now,” Christine said and you turned your attention to her. It was starting to feel a bit painful to you that the subject still hadn’t changed yet. “When Steve told me that you were going to go to the community college close by, I couldn’t believe it, honestly.”

You noticed your parents share a look upon hearing her words. The mix of disappointment and annoyance toward you that was shared between them in that moment felt palpable. 

“I didn’t think it was time to leave Indiana just yet. I’ll be going soon, though,” You said, keeping your voice light and plastering on a fake smile, even though all you wanted to do in that moment was leave the table and hideout in your bathroom for the rest of the night. 

You saw your dad smile a little and then you also noticed the look of relief wash over your mom’s face. For some stupid reason, you still felt the need to make them feel pleased with you. And somehow that made you feel even more upset with yourself than anything they had said to you so far tonight. 

The only thing that managed to make things feel remotely tolerable right then was Steve sitting across from you, giving you a look that said, “Everything will be okay.” For the time being, you chose to believe him and you simply took another bite of your food. 

You were about to say something about how good the turkey was so your moms would start talking about the restaurant they got all of the food from and why they chose it— you were sure that there was some story behind it all— and that would finally bring an end to the college conversation. But, before a word could leave your mouth, Steve’s dad began speaking. 

“Well, at least, you’re in college. We can’t say the same for Steve here.” He then looked at his son. “Do you really want to work at a video store for the rest of your life?”

 Christine let out a sigh. “Jeff.”

“What?” He shrugged as if his previous question wasn’t completely condescending. “I’m just asking a question.”

“I’m actually starting at the community college next semester,” Steve told his parents and you tried to hide your immediate confusion. “I found out I got in a few days ago.”

“Well, that’s great,” Christine said happily, and Jeff smiled approvingly as well. 

You had no idea Steve had gotten in or even applied, and you wondered if he was lying right then to just get his parents off his back, but you couldn’t tell. Something about the way he said it honestly felt pretty real. The only part that didn’t feel real was that you were finding out during this dumb dinner instead of at any other time. 

“So, I was wondering,” Your mom began and you braced yourself for the impact of whatever she was going to say. “Why did you two decide to get a hamster? I feel like it makes things smell a bit funny in here…”

A part of you was glad that the conversation finally shifted away from college. But you didn’t think that the passive aggressive comments toward the apartment would begin with Harold. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Well, this night was fucking brutal.”

You let out a sigh. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

Steve was doing the dishes as you put what was left of the food into tupperwares and then put them in the fridge. Surprisingly, it was a lot of stuff leftover; your moms definitely went overboard with the amount they had ordered. You and Steve already made plans to invite Robin and Eddie over tomorrow to have some of these leftovers.

“I’m actually glad that the dessert tasted bad since it made them want to leave early.”

“It was honestly a bit bittersweet because I was kind of excited for that pie,” You said as you placed the final tupperware of food into the fridge and then went over to Steve. “Oh, and also,” You punched his arm and ignored his immediate “ouch.” “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that the stars have finally managed to align and we’ll finally be going to the same school for the first time ever?”

He smiled a little at your dramatics. “I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it just in case I somehow didn’t end up getting in. I swear I was gonna tell you tomorrow.”

“So, you did all of that annoying application stuff by yourself?”

“Robin helped me with it.”

“I would’ve been happy to help you,” You told him, and maybe you were being a bit overdramatic, but you actually felt slightly offended that he hadn’t wanted to come to you about this. 

The possibility of you two going to the same middle or high school was a far out idea that never happened because you lived in different towns. But, it was still something that was adamantly and wistfully talked about by you and him; how much more fun both of your school lives could be if they intersected in that way like the other parts of your lives did. 

Of course, going to the same college would’ve been the most obvious way for it to finally happen, but Steve never seemed that interested in going to college, and up until the last possible second you were being pushed toward Chicago by your parents. 

But now things were finally different.

“I know that you would’ve, but I didn’t want to talk about it to anyone, honestly. Robin saw me working on the application one day and decided to help,” He explained and you only gave him a small nod in response. “I didn’t even think I’d tell my parents about it, but when I heard my dad’s dumb comment about Family Video I felt like I had to say it so he wouldn’t keep looking at me like a disappointment.” He sighed. “And it’s kinda fucked up… I really don’t wanna care what my parents think about me and what I’m doing with my life, but I think there will always be a part of me that does.”

You thought back to your dad’s approving smile and your mom’s relieved look when you reassured them that you still planned to go to the University of Chicago; how much you still wanted to make them feel at least a little proud of you even though you knew you shouldn’t.

“Me too,” You said softly. 

“I’m glad we probably won’t have to see them again until Christmas.”

You sighed. “Apparently, my dad is gonna bring us a new lock for the door when they get back from their trip.”

“Oh,” Steve said and then smiled at you when it looked like he thought of something. “Okay, what are the odds that he’ll just send someone to put the new lock on the door instead of coming himself?”

You thought about it for a second. “Honestly, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance that would happen. He’ll probably be too busy with work after the trip to actually come and do it himself.”

“Okay, let’s hope for that,” He said as he finished washing the last plate and placed it on the drying rack. “So, since the dessert was a bust tonight, do you wanna go to the diner? I’m sure Mary would never fuck up her apple pie. And then when we get back, we can finish that bottle of wine that our moms left.”

You smiled at his suggestion. “You have a brilliant mind, Harrington.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)