#the angst and miscommunication was there

[ed3mm]

Y'all ever read a fic where it's hurt/comfort and the author is really good at writing angst, but not comfort, because this just happened to me. Pretty sure the last few chapters were supposed to be the comfort but it just made me more upset

[aventurineswife]

Hello :D! Can I request how Aventurine, Sunday, and Ratio would handle accidentally taking a joke too far/saying something that hurt the reader?

A Joke Too Far

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Miscommunication, Emotional Hurt/Healing, Fluff and Angst, Apologies and Redemption, Vulnerable Moments.

Warnings: Emotional Hurt, Minor Self-Deprecation, Angst and Tension, Characters may exhibit self-blame, Fluff resolution (Happy Ending), Sensitive themes of guilt and emotional wounds.

The usually unflappable Aventurine had made a misstep. What had started as light teasing about your supposed inability to bluff during a game of cards had spiraled into a sharp comment about your naivety in real life. Though it had been meant as a jest, your sudden silence spoke volumes. The flicker of pain in your eyes wasn’t something Aventurine could easily brush off.

He leaned back in his chair, feigning his usual relaxed demeanor as the cards slipped through his fingers, but his mind raced. His charm and wit had saved him countless times, yet here, it felt inadequate.

Standing, he made his way to your side, dropping to a crouch so he could meet your eyes. The air of playfulness softened, replaced by genuine contrition. “Well,” he said, voice quieter than usual, “it seems even I can misread the stakes. I didn’t mean to draw blood.”

You glanced at him, unsure how to respond.

“Let me make it up to you,” he continued, his lips twitching into a softer smile. “How about I put my pride on the table? A gamble just for you—I’ll let you choose the terms.” He tilted his head, his eyes catching the light. “All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll pay my dues.”

His sincerity shone through the offer, and you couldn’t help but let the tension in your shoulders ease. Aventurine had a way of making you feel seen, even when he stumbled.

Sunday was known for his eloquence and composed nature, but even he could falter. His comment, a teasing remark about how you seemed too attached to fleeting, mundane pleasures, was meant to be harmless. Instead, it struck a nerve, and you turned away sharply.

The halo behind him dimmed slightly, as though reflecting his own self-reproach. Sunday didn’t immediately speak; he knew words hastily given were often meaningless. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence warm yet unintrusive, like sunlight filtering through clouds.

“I have erred,” he began gently, his eyes searching for yours. “I did not intend to undermine what brings you joy. If I have caused you pain, it is my failure, not yours.”

His voice, calm and steady, carried the weight of sincerity. Sunday placed a hand over his heart, bowing his head slightly—a gesture of respect, almost reverent. “Your happiness, fleeting or eternal, is yours to cherish. I would never wish to diminish it.”

You glanced at him, finding it hard to hold onto your frustration in the face of his humility. Sunday smiled softly, the light behind him glowing a little brighter. “Perhaps I could learn from you, rather than judge. Show me the beauty you see—I would be honored.”

Ratio had been in the middle of one of his characteristically blunt tirades, critiquing a decision you had made during a project. His comment—that it was “hardly a surprise given your level of experience”—was not meant to wound, but the sharp edge of his tone had cut deeper than he realized.

When he noticed your silence, the shift in your posture, he paused. It wasn’t often that Ratio miscalculated, but when he did, he took it seriously. For a moment, he considered doubling down, justifying his words with logic, but the pang of guilt in his chest stopped him.

He took a breath, stepping closer. “I was careless,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. His eyes, so often piercing, held a rare vulnerability. “My intent was to challenge, not to insult. But it seems I failed to consider how my words might be received.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the uncharacteristic apology.

Ratio removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a rare display of frustration. “The truth is, I respect your contributions more than I expressed. I let my standards obscure my appreciation.” He hesitated, then added, “I may not always convey it well, but your perspective is valuable to me.”

His straightforward approach made it clear he wasn’t just placating you, and slowly, the sting of his words began to fade. Ratio replaced his glasses and straightened, a small but genuine smile touching his lips. “Shall we try again? Together, this time.”

[wwilsonbarness]

i can't do this anymore

pairings: bucky barnes x y/n reader  

summary: You overhear Bucky’s conversation with your friends and assume the worst but you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

warnings: ANGSTTT, fluffy ending, mention of marriage, more angst “I’m sorry i can’t help it), miscommunication. 

word count: 3665

a/n: I’m in serious need of miscommunication fics (I'm a sucker for angst) so I’d be grateful for any recommendations!! Enjoy <3 

Feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated on any other platform.

masterlist

“Buck? Can you pass my clothes?” You had just stepped out of the shower and realised you left your clothes in your room, but Bucky didn’t answer. “Buck?” He still didn’t answer so you wrapped your towel around you and headed through to see the room empty. You begin to get dressed before you hear Sam’s voice from the living room, he wasn’t supposed to be here for another half hour. Every week Bucky and Sam took it in turns to host dinner for the three of you and Sam’s girlfriend, Olivia. This week was yours and Bucky’s turn to host and you were super excited to serve your new recipe. Hearing the voices made you even more excited, but stressed as you still had some cooking to do before they were supposed to be here. You finish getting dressed and apply a little bit of makeup as quickly as you can. These dinners weren’t formal so it didn’t take long to get ready, they were mostly just so Sam and Bucky had some comfort after their missions, especially recently with them having to deal with John Walker. You take one last look in the mirror before heading through, until you hear something that stops you in your step.

“I mean I can’t say I’m surprised.. one look at you two and it’s obvious,” Sam tried to whisper but failed. “how are you gonna do it?”  Do what? You were confused what they were talking about, part of was tempted to interrupt but your curiosity took over. 

“I don’t know.. It’s just..” Bucky was stuttering which he only did when he was nervous, this really made you worry about what they were talking about. “It’s just she’s different from other girls, you know? And I know we haven’t been together that long but I can’t do it anymore. Do what anymore? “It’s not like I don’t love what we have but I just feel like I need more” More? You couldn’t help but overthink what you were hearing. They were talking about you, you weren't enough for him. I mean sure you’d thought that about yourself so many times but hearing it from the man you truly thought was the love of your life hurt. 

“I know what it’s like when you find the one, it’s the best feeling in the world.” You couldn’t see this but Sam had kissed Olivia’s head after his words. “This is gonna be good for you man, I’m happy for you.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to hear anymore, the tears were already fighting their way out. You quietly walk back into your bedroom and try and calm down, you just had to get through tonight, just tonight and then you and Bucky could talk. You were at your happiest with Bucky, you thought Bucky was too but.. you didn’t even want to finish that thought. Bucky’s happiness was the most important thing to you, and if that meant he wasn’t with you anymore you would have to find a way to get through that. No matter how hard it would be for you, you just wanted him to be happy.

You took a few minutes to compose yourself,  your eyes were red and a little puffy but not enough for anyone to notice. You hoped anyway. This time when you left your bedroom you made sure to close the door loud enough so they could hear you coming and hopefully change the subject. 

“Hey guys, you’re early.” you said as you walked in, Sam and Olivia both stood up to give you a hug as you came in. 

“Yeah sorry we were just a couple blocks over and it didn’t make sense going all the way back home just to come out again,” Sam replied with a smile. “Buck said it was okay.” 

“Of course it is, you guys are always welcome, you know that!” You were surprisingly good at keeping how you really felt hidden, but with your words you couldn’t help but think you would lose Sam and Olivia as friends when Bucky ended things between you, they were technically Bucky’s friends first but you’d grown to see them as practically family as your relationship grew. You tried to push that thought away, you just had to get through tonight you kept repeating to yourself in your head. 

“You okay doll?” Bucky asks as he wraps his arms around you. You plaster on a smile hoping he wouldn’t sense anything being wrong. 

“Course! Just need to check on the food.” Normally Bucky’s touch helped you in situations like this but with what you heard his touch was only making you feel worse. You manage to untangle yourself from his arms and head to the kitchen. You notice that the ingredients and glasses were still laying out for the drinks you’d planned to make. “Do you guys want any drinks?” 

“Yes please!” Sam and Bucky replied at the same time. 

“I’ll help you.” you heard Olivia say through the wall. It only takes a couple seconds before she’s standing next to you in the kitchen. You and Olivia were like best friends, and she’s the reason you and Bucky were together. You had worked together for a few years, you drifted a little when she left that job but it only took one reunion dinner to get your friendship back to normal. That was 2 years ago, and from that night on she had insisted on setting up you and Bucky. It took a while for the meeting to actually happen but once it did you knew he was the one for you. Was. Not anymore. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Olivia asks quietly, she was aware of Bucky’s super soldier hearing and wanted to talk to you alone. 

You nodded and forced another smile. “Just a busy week, my boss is still being a dick.” 

“Ugh, you deserve so much better than having to work for that guy. He’s a creep.” She said at a normal volume now. “You should send Bucky after him, make him know he can’t treat you like that just cause he’s the boss.” She brings her hands up to put air quotes around ‘boss’, as he’s only technically the boss for the month while your real boss was on vacation. 

“I’ll manage.” You tried to play it off, you wouldn’t have Bucky there to help you soon, and you needed to stand up for yourself. 

“You know he would do anything for you.” 

“You think?” 

“Yep. I mean have you seen the way he looks at you?” 

“Hmm.” you mumbled. “Here,” You pass her two glasses with drinks in it. “take these and I’ll bring the other two once i’ve checked the food.” 

“Okay,” She starts to walk about but turns at the last minute, “It smells good by the way, I can’t wait.” 

“Thanks” you laughed as she walked away. She could tell there was something different with you tonight but she couldn’t figure out what was wrong, it felt like it was more than just your boss being a dick. 

You tried to take as long as you could checking the food without it being too long that someone would notice. After just under 10 minutes you walk through. “Dinner should only be a little longer.” You pass a glass to Bucky and keep one for yourself, normally you’d sit close to Bucky but tonight you kept your distance, opting for the armchair in the corner. Bucky thought this was weird but he kept it to himself. 

“So, what did I miss?” You hoped they would somehow be able to explain away what you heard but your hope didn’t last long as they started to talk about Sam’s plans to get a lizard. 

“Sam, we’re not getting a lizard,” Olivia replied, “if you insist on getting a pet why can’t it be a normal one like a cat or a dog.” This only reminded you of the plans you and Bucky made to adopt a cat, this was torture. Everything was reminding you of what you were about to lose. 

“I’ll look after it babe, you won’t even have to touch it.” Sam tried pleading. 

“And when you’re away on missions?” Olivia argued back playfully. 

“Okay, you got me.” You laughed a little at Sam releasing this was one battle he was going to lose. “What about you guys? You still planning on getting a cat?” 

Bucky looked at you as Sam asked the question, how were you supposed to answer this when you didn’t even know the answer anymore, luckily Bucky notices the panic on your face and jumps in to answer.” 

“Yeah man, we just have to find the time to get to the shelter.” 

“See,” He turns his head to his left, staring at his girl, “Y/n let’s Bucky get the pet he wants.” He was only teasing, he knew logically he couldn’t get a lizard but it was fun to pretend. 

“Lizards and cats are not the same thing.” 

“Y/n/n help me out here please” Sam pleads to you. 

“Sorry Sam, I’m on Olivia's side here.” You reply whilst laughing. 

“Traitor” he mumbles under his breath making everyone laugh. Bucky noticed it wasn’t your real laugh but he wasn’t sure why. Normally you loved bantering back and forth with them. 

You kept on chatting for 20 minutes before the oven timer went off, just in time as Bucky was about to tell an embarrassing story about you.

“Ah! Saved by the bell” you joked. 

“Don’t think I won’t forget to tell it after dinner!” Bucky shouts through, and you can’t help but laugh before thinking about it deeper. Was that one of the things he couldn’t do anymore, was he really embarrassed by you? 

You tried so hard to push those thoughts away and focus on getting through the dinner, you started plating up the food you were so excited about only an hour before. But you got lost in your thoughts again and picked up the hot tray with your bare hand, burning yourself in the process. “Shit.” The tray fell to the floor, luckily you had already plated everything and you were just moving it to the sink. Bucky rushes through and sees the tray on the ground and you gripping your hand towards your chest. 

“What happened?” He comes towards you but you walk back away from him. “What’s wrong?” You could see the worry in his eyes but all you could think about was his words earlier. I can't do it anymore. 

“I’m fine, Bucky.” You didn’t mean to but you snapped back at him. 

“You’re not fine.” he moves closer and tries to reach for your hand but you pull it closer to you, he notices and steps back. “Y/n?” You don’t say anything. “Look please just run your hand under some cold water at least, please?” 

“Can you just take the food through, I’ll be there in a minute.” You tried to hide the shakiness in your voice but he could hear it. This brought him back to the start of your relationship, you both struggled to open up to each other but he thought you had both gotten better at it, which is why he was extra worried.

He nodded, you hated yourself for being the reason he was sad, he didn’t deserve that. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay doll, just know I’m here for you okay?” You nodded but kept your gaze to the floor. He first grabs the tray with his left hand and puts it in the sink then picks up the plates and brings them through, having to make two trips. He doesn’t want to leave you but he wants to give you the space you asked for. You run your hand under the cold tap for a couple of minutes before drying it off and making your way to the table. 

“You okay y/n?” Sam asks as you sit down next to Bucky, there were only 4 seats at the table so sitting next to him was your only option. Bucky turns to you, concern filling his eyes, he sends a smile your way and you try to send one back. He went to put his hand on your thigh but you see him stop himself and bring it back to his leg. 

“Yeah, all good, just burnt my finger on a tray. How’s the food?” 

“It’s amazing as always.” Olivia answers.

 “Thanks again for having us over.” Sam adds

“It’s a new recipe, and no need to thank me. You know you are both welcome here anytime.” You reply, happy that they like it. 

“Tastes great Doll.” Bucky’s voice was quiet, almost like he was scared to speak, he had a slight smile growing as you turned to him. 

“Thank you Bucky.” 

The rest of the night went just like that, the four of you spoke about planning a trip to New Orleans, you felt yourself get excited about it but then grounded yourself, reminding yourself that it probably wouldn’t go ahead. Well, it maybe would, you just wouldn’t be there. Sam and Olivia stayed for a couple more hours, they couldn’t stay as late as usual as Olivia had picked up an early shift at work the next day. When they left you saw Sam and Bucky whisper something to each other, but you were too far to hear anything. 

Now you and Bucky were alone, it had just been the two of you for 10 minutes and none of you had broken the silence until now. 

“Y/n?” Bucky asks quietly, testing the atmosphere. You took the shakiness in his voice as a sign he was angry, when it was really because he was worried about you. You don’t say anything but bring your head up so you could see him. “Can we talk?” Oh god. This was it. He was gonna do it right now. You weren’t ready, you never would be but you couldn’t do this right now. 

“Bucky, I’m really tired, could we talk in the morning?” You were desperately hoping he would say yes. 

“Yeah..” He stands up and walks towards the bathroom, stopping slightly at you but speeds up again after a moment. “I’m gonna quickly shower then I’ll come to bed.” 

“Okay.” Almost a whisper but he heard it. 

You go through to your room and get changed, ignoring the mess in the kitchen. That was something you’d worry about tomorrow. You crawled into bed, facing the wall and tried to force the sleep to take over. It doesn’t take long for Bucky to come in next to you, you feel him hesitate but he wraps his arms around you and brings his mouth around to kiss your forehead. “I love you.” 

You hoped he’d think you were sleeping, and not know you were pretending. You tried to find comfort in his touch but it only reminded you that this time tomorrow you probably wouldn’t have him wrapped around you. You could feel your eyes growing wetter as you thought about this but you forced yourself to stop before it turned into a full meltdown. That would for sure wake Bucky up. So you sat there in silence, sometimes you could hear a quiet mechanical murmur from Bucky’s arm, and sometimes the one big deep breath he takes every few minutes. By the time morning comes you only got about an hour of sleep, you were exhausted and anxious for what was going to happen today. 

“Doll?” he pauses for a minute waiting for an answer, “Are you up?” 

“Yeah, I'm up.” You don’t turn around to face him like you normally would, you keep your eyes on the wall. 

“I was thinking we could go to your favourite cafe today? The one with the-” You interrupt him and turn around to face him, sitting cross legged. 

“It’s okay Bucky.” He’s confused about what you mean so he stays quiet hoping you'll continue which you do. “I heard you talking with Sam and Olivia..” Bucky’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. 

“You heard us?” Shit. He wanted it to be a surprise. 

“I did. So can you just do it now? Get it over and done with, so we can both move on.”

“What? You want me to do it right now?” 

“Yes. Please, just do it.” You knew you were coming across harsh but you needed this torture to end. 

“Erm. Okay..”  He stood up out of bed and walked over to his dresser, and started to dig through one of his drawers. “This isn’t really how I pictured doing this and I thought you’d be more excited but..” Excited? Why would you be excited over losing him? Once he finds what he was looking for he walks back over and brings himself down to his knees beside the bed. 

“Bucky what-” 

“My turn to talk doll..” What the hell was happening. “Y/n, you have been the best thing in my life since the very first day I met you. It might sound cliche but you’re the missing piece I always thought I’d never find. I know this might seem fast but..” He pulls a small box from behind his back. Oh my god. He was proposing. What. You wanted to stop him but the words wouldn’t come out, it was like your mouth was glued shut. “.. I don’t think I could ever feel happier than I do right now with you but It would mean the absolute world to me if you-” 

“Wait!! Stop!” Bucky’s smile dropped. He’d been scared to ask you but he didnt think rejection was actually a possibility. 

“What?” You stood up and started pacing back and forth, panic setting in. 

“Oh my god Bucky. Stand up!” He stood up slowly and closed the ring box, the loud click making things even realer. “Bucky, what were you talking about with Sam and Olivia?” 

“I thought you heard me? I was telling them I wanted to propose, I want to spend the rest of my time with you. This definitely isn't how I wanted it to go. I’m sorry if I.. I thought you’d want this too.” 

“Oh my god Bucky. I am so sorry. I’m so sorry, I messed up.” You were beginning to lose control of your breathing and your eyes were starting to burn, you were still pacing back and forth. “I thought you wanted to end things, I thought you were done with us.”

“What?! Why did you think that?” He had never been so confused in his whole life. 

“You told them you wanted more, and.. that I wasn’t like other girls.. and..” The tears had escaped now and it was hard to talk properly. “and you said you couldn’t do this a-anymore.” 

“Oh baby.” Bucky walks over to you and pulls you gently to the bed, he sits next to you but keeps one of his arms wrapped around you. “I did say those things but not in the way you think. Did you listen to the rest of what we said?” You shook your head, which only made your growing headache worse. “When I said I wanted more I was talking about marrying you, in case you haven't figured that out by the -I don’t even know if i can call that a proposal- but doll, I want to marry you, I wanted to show you how much I love you and how serious I was about us.” He tries to turn himself slightly so he can see your face properly. 

“I was right when I said you aren’t like other girls, I don’t want you to be like anyone else. I want you to be you, my girl. The girl I fell in love with the first day I met you. I’ve been planning to propose for a while but I couldn’t keep it in any longer, that’s what I meant when I said I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t wait any longer to ask you. I love you so much, doll.” 

Oh god. You were so embarrassed. You had gotten everything so wrong. “Bucky, I'm so sorry. I didn’t, I don’t want things to end with us. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay baby, really it’s okay. I just wished you’d talked to me about it. You can come to me about anything, you know what right?” 

“I do, I promise. I just panicked. I thought I was going to lose you.” Your breathing had started to slow down and you felt like you had control over it again.

“Nope. You’re never getting rid of me. I love you too much for that,” He brought his face down to yours and brushed your noses together before wrapping his arms tightly around you. “And I missed you way too much to ever let go of you again.” 

“I love you too, Buck, so much.. but you’re squeezing me.” For the first time since you heard their conversation you had a real smile on your face and you laughed at him holding you so tight. You were happy. Bucky was happy. 

“There’s the laugh I missed so much. Oh and,” he pulled away just for a second to look into your eyes, placing each of his hands on your shoulders and with a serious voice spoke again, “don’t for one second think that’s how my real proposal will go, I’m gonna make it special, just like you deserve.” he pulls you into his arms and lays you both down.

“I can’t wait, but before you do that..”

“Mhmm?”

“Can we go to the shelter today? I think it’s about time we got that cat.”

“You have no idea how happy that makes me doll” 

Maybe it wasn’t healthy how much yours and Bucky’s happiness relied on each other but for you two it worked. Things were perfect. 

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You

james potter x fem!reader

Completed! Series

summary - You've known golden-boy James Potter for as long as you can remember. Though you don't just know him—he's your very best friend. But there's just one problem: you've fallen deeply, madly in love with him. Or two problems, if you count his thing for your friend Lily Evans. As time goes by, all you want is to get over him. Although, James seems set on making that the most impossible challenge of them all.

tags: James Potter x f!reader, childhood best friends to lovers, pining, unrequited love (or is it), "why are you pushing me away?", some miscommunication, Marauder!reader, hurt/comfort, angst, and a kiss that changed everything.

warnings: underage drinking, some mild cursing, occasional innuendo, she/her pronouns used, no use of y/n

a/n: this story has been a long time in the making ... but I'm very excited for it to be out! a very special thank u to everyone who supported it during its release, it rly means the world to me. with that being said, happy reading !! hope you guys enjoy <3 - e

check this out on my ao3!

*masterlist

read here:

Chapter 1 ->

Chapter 2 ->

Chapter 3 ->

Chapter 4 ->

Chapter 5 ->

Chapter 6 ->

Chapter 7 ->

Chapter 8 ->

Chapter 9 ->

Chapter 10 ->

Chapter 11 ->

Chapter 12 ->

*completed* <33

[marshmallowpuffcat]

My Showtime headcanon (or AU? Idk)! They're an enemies-to-friends-to-lovers pair where the connection isn't genuine at first but grows to become that with time :3

[ellecdc]

can i request angst with sirius 🥲 like where reader finds out he only dated her for a bet 🧍‍♀️my hyperfixation on this trope is sickening and i hope to hear mother elle’s take on this 🙏🩷

ughhhhh I think maybe you guys hate me??? what's with the angst, my loves? why are we doing this to me? Listen: I wrote your Sirius Black dating reader for a bet..............but I made it a miscommunication trope/hurt-comfort I'M SORRY I COULDN'T DO IT. I get angst, truly, but I didn't want Sirius to actually be mean to us 😢 hope this works for you 🫶

Sirius Black x fem!reader CW: perceived bullying, miscommunication trope, hurt/comfort

Sirius Black was many things. He was a wizard, he was an animagus, he was a disinherited heir to a Pureblood family, he was a Gryffindor, he was a flirt and a friend.

One thing Sirius Black was not was a coward.

“Then go ask her out.” Peter said plainly.

Sirius scoffed. “I will do no such thing.”

“Why not?” Remus asked with a smirk. “You like her, you can’t stop staring at her, and you find every excuse in the book to be in her vicinity other than ask her out.”

“I don’t understand what your hang up is.” James added. “You’ve never had a problem asking girls out before.”

“I don’t have any hang up’s, Prongsie. I’ve never had and still don’t have a problem asking girls out.”

“Good.” Remus jumped in quickly. “So go ask her out.”

“No.” Sirius said petulantly. 

Peter’s expression grew into a mischievous smirk as he shared a knowing look with his two other friends. “Let’s make a bet then.”

This caught Sirius’ attention. “I’m listening.”

“If you don’t ask Y/N out on a date, you have to do my Astronomy homework for two weeks.” Peter offered.

Sirius scoffed. “I fail to see how this bet benefit’s me at all.”

“Well, ignoring the fact that you’d have a date with the girl of your dreams; if you do ask her out, I will do your Ancient Runes homework for two weeks.” Peter bargained.

Well…Sirius couldn’t deny that those stakes were pretty beneficial to him. 

And he could really use the help in Ancient Runes.

“Petey, my boy. You’ve got yourself a deal.” He proclaimed with a smirk as he marched his way across the library to where you were sitting. 

But by the time he got over to you…all words left his brain.

Why was this so difficult for him? He had a reputation as Hogwarts' Ladies Man. You were a lady – why couldn’t he talk to you!?

“Hello Sirius.” You greeted him warmly, putting the dumb sod out of his misery.

“Uhm, er, hi Y/N!” He returned awkwardly, grimacing at the delivery himself. You had the good graces just to smile at him, though. Gods he was a goner.

He heard snickering behind him from his friends and your eyes nervously darted over to the group.

“Uhm, was…was there something I could help you with?” You asked nervously, eyes moving between Sirius and his friends as you played nervously with the quill in your hands. 

“Uhm, no. Well, yes actually, you see…I was wondering if perhaps you might want to maybe go to Hogsmeade with me, at some point. No pressure though…” He rambled, trailing off awkwardly and grimacing once again. 

You chuckled nervously, but kept your eyes locked on his friends.

“Sirius, is…is this a prank?”

Sirius felt all colour drain from his face. 

Oh gods. Between his awkwardness and his friends all giggling like schoolgirls behind him paired with the fact they are known for their mischief, you thought he was pranking you!?

“Oh gods. Y/N, no! No, ugh, I’ve really mucked this up.” He groaned as he slumped down into a chair beside you. “It’s just…the wankers” he said, motioning to said wankers behind him, “know I’ve been uncharacteristically nervous about asking you out for a while now. They’re just having a go at me.” 

“Sirius Black? Nervous? To ask me out?” You scoffed. “Do you take me as a fool, Black?”

“No! No, Merlin, please, believe me – one date, okay? One date to prove I’m not the tosser I apparently look like right now.” He begged. Begged! Sirius Black had been diminished to begging. 

He was never going to live this down.

You narrowed your eyes and surveyed Sirius’ form whilst Sirius fought the urge to shield himself from your piercing gaze. Your eyes flit over to his friends before decision seemed to paint your features.

“Fine.” You said, “one date at Hogsmeade, this weekend.”

The way you were speaking made it sound like a formal business transaction, but Sirius beamed at you feeling slightly bolder in the face of (reluctant) agreement on your part, standing from his chair.

“You won’t regret it! I’ll meet you in the courtyard, Saturday morning – 10 am!” He called as he walked backwards towards his friends, only stumbling into one stray chair on his way.

Sirius could tell you were fighting the urge to smile or laugh, and even though you would have been laughing at him, it still felt like a win in his books. 

The Hogsmeade date was a success. In fact, you had to admit it was one of the best dates you’ve ever been on. You had been friendly enough with Sirius from your shared classes and such – but your interactions had never exceeded as much as a polite “hello” from either party. You always figured that was for the best – considering those who found themselves to be too familiar with the Marauders were often victims of their many pranks. 

You only knew the Sirius Black that the rest of the school knew:

Mischief maker, Gryffindor, quidditch beater, flirt, a player, and anti-all-the-things-that-his-family-stood-for. Some of those things were bad, whilst others were good. But you had no idea that this Sirius Black existed.

The Sirius Black that was an amazing listener, who held doors open and pulled chairs out for you, who made you feel as though every word coming out of your mouth was the most fascinating thing he ever heard, who could make you laugh until your stomach hurt, who seemed to be able to fill any lull in the conversation with ease. 

You hated to admit it, but…you sort of liked this Sirius Black. 

After a nice day of window shopping, actual shopping, butterbeer’s and scenic strolls through the picturesque town, you made your way back to Hogwarts. Sirius bid you farewell by kissing your knuckles (you actually think you might have swooned a little bit) and asked if you’d be so inclined to make this a “regular thing.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” You tried to say noncommittally, though you were sure the grin on your face gave away your enthusiasm. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” He asked as he walked backwards towards his friends, face turning a little shy.

You couldn’t help but take the piss for it. “We live in the same castle, Black. I’m sure you’ll see me tomorrow.”

“Cheeky minx.” He called back, though his face remained soft as he shot a wink at you before turning towards his friends.

You started to head towards the castle but watched as Remus pat him on the back and James’ cheered at his friend’s reunion. 

Before you got too far away, you overheard a part of their conversation. Remus asked if he had enjoyed himself, James asked if the two of you were going to do it again, but it was what you heard Peter say that made your heart drop to your stomach.

“So? Was the bet worth it, did you have a nice time?”

A bet…had a nice time, because of a bet?

He made a bet…he asked you out…because of a bet.

Stupid, stupid girl.

You knew better.

You felt sick, you felt foolish, you felt betrayed.

He really was a player; he really was a flirt. He made you feel so special today, and it was all just an act? 

How could you be so naïve?

How could you have believed his whole “I’ve been so nervous to ask you out” bit. You’ve seen him at parties – you’ve seen him with other girls.

You were such an idiot. 

Sirius had really enjoyed himself yesterday. He had to continuously wipe his hands on his jeans as they were clammy with nerves all day, but generally he felt he handled himself okay. 

At least, as good as could be considering he’d completely lost the ability to keep his fucking cool around a pretty girl. 

So, maybe he hadn’t been as smooth as he normally was. But he didn’t think he’d been so bad as to have elicited this reaction from you.

You barely spared him a glance as you marched past him in the Great Hall the following morning, shouldering him as you headed to sit with your friends.

You…you had enjoyed yourself yesterday, right? When the two of you parted, you’d actually expressed interest in seeing him again.

So, why were you ignoring him?

He figured perhaps you just hadn’t noticed him or mistaken him for someone else or some other such thing as he took his place at the Gryffindor table, but not before he spared one more glance at you. 

You looked painfully dejected and one of your friends placed a comforting hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles. She was also glaring at Sirius.

What had he done? 

He had gotten up to go over and ask you, but if he thought he had been intimidated to talk to you before – his intimidation was increased ten-fold at the withering glares your friends all cast at him.

He’d just have to find a chance to chat with you alone.

That chance never came, however, as you seemed to have an entourage escorting you to all of your classes that Monday.

But by the following evening, he couldn’t take it anymore – wouldn’t take it anymore. He’d had a nice time, dammit! And he wanted to enjoy time with you again!

“Are you lost, Black?” One of your friends goaded him as he approached your table in the library. He sucked in a steadying breath as he focused his sights on you. You, who sat unbelievably tense but still never lifted your head from your quill and notebook.

“Y/N? Could we talk for a moment?” He asked quietly.

“No.” Another friend answered for you.

As politely as he could – which was becoming increasingly difficult due to his frayed nerves – he addressed your friend. “With all due respect, Bones, I wasn’t talking to you.”

“No, you were talking to Y/N, right? Why? Did your friends make another bet with you?” She sneered.

Sirius felt his heart fall out of his arse.

He scoffed in disbelief. “You…you mean Pete’s bet?”

You laughed humourlessly and threw your quill down in front of you. “Why? Was there more than one bet, Black?” You spat, finally turning to face him. He was horrified to see your eyes were red and glassy – you were close to crying. 

“No! No, Circe, I-”

“Oh good,” your friend said sarcastically, “there was only one bet. Guess that’s not so bad then.”

“Y/N, please, you have to listen I-”

“Whoa, what’s going on here?” James said as he moved towards Sirius, apparently only having just arrived in the library. Sirius was sort of horrified to notice that some of the surrounding students had turned in their chairs to witness the ultimate downfall of Sirius Black.

That’s right - fuck being formally and officially disowned by his family – this was the undoing of Sirius Orion Black.

“What’s going on is Y/N found out about your lot’s stupid bet.” Your friend announced. Sirius could feel James’ confused face beside him, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from your face as he watched a single tear roll down your cheek. 

“Pete’s bet?” James asked dumbly.

“Yes! Yes, Pete’s bet!” Sirius shouted. He got down on his knees and kneeled in front of you, willing your eyes to him. You denied him the sight, but he supposed he sort of deserved as such. “Pete’s bet, Y/N, to finally get me to stop being a sodding coward and ask you out.” He offered, albeit much more quietly.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t mean to intrude but I can assure you that’s really all it was.” James offered with a pained grimace from where he stood behind Sirius’ crouched form. “We’d been so tired of him convincing us all to hang out in the sodding library just so he could stare at you and never do anything about it. Took us weeks to get him to even start saying hello to you.”

You looked at James, eyebrows furrowing which seemed to cause more tears to fall.

“That makes no sense. I’m not that scary.” You cried.

“No,” Sirius agreed, “you’re just that pretty. That special. That lovely and kind. You’re not scary but you were really intimidating. I was so afraid of botching the whole thing – looks like I kind of did that anyway, huh?”

You were finally looking at him, and Sirius relished in the sight of your eyes meeting his once again, even if they were filled with hurt and tears. He took your two hands in his and ran his thumbs along the backs of your knuckles.

“I begged you for one chance, Y/N. I have no problem begging you for a hundred more. I swear to you, one of these times I’ll get it right.” He promised.

You stared at him for a moment longer before laughing wetly. “Gods, I’m sorry for being so cold. I…I really thought-”

But he cut you off by shaking his head. “I think you were justified. I would have been hurt if I’d overheard that I’d only been asked out on account of a bet. But I promise, it was not malicious.” 

You nodded in understanding and pulled on of your hands away from Sirius’ to wipe away the tear tracks on your face.

“Gods I feel so silly.”

“Let me make it up to you.” Sirius barked quickly. “Right now, come with me. Please?”

You looked at him confusedly for a moment before nodding your head and looking back to your friends. One of them still seemed slightly miffed, so conceded to letting him steal you away from them though she didn’t let you part without shooting him a few more withering glares. 

No matter, Sirius would have time to win over your friends.

Right now, he was more worried about winning you over. And hopefully keeping you this time. 

To start, he’d spend the rest of the night snuggled up to you under stolen blankets from the Gryffindor common room while the two of you watched the stars from the Astronomy tower.

Well, you watched the stars; he spent the evening watching admiring you.

He’d make sure you never felt like the butt of some joke ever again – not if he could help it.

[plistommy]

No one needs to know that Steve lets the known Eddie ’The Freak’ Munson and known alpha fuck him.

No one.

No one needs to know how he begs for his big knot. How he cries and whines with so much desire once the older boy is inside him. How he even sometimes tells Eddie that he loves him in the middle of it when him and his omega are pleased. Content.

No one needs to know how Eddie teases his fangs across his neck, right where he could just bite and mark Steve up, making the omega his.

No one knows how much Steve wants it.

[hitlikehammers]

oh golden boy (don't act like you were kind)

part i : you were mine but—

for @kultiras at the ❄️ Winter @steddieexchange 🖤🩵

Arguably the sharpest knife in his chest about this whole fucking shitshow?

Eddie thought they were doing good.

Like: so fucking good.

Eddie thought they were on the cusp of…that they were building something.

He’s such an idiot. Such a…

A heartsick fucking idiot.

But if he’s gracious—which he’s not, least of all to himself—when he puts all the pieces together, lines the evidence up and analyzes it, thinks of it in terms of a narrative that he can understand and recognize the flaws in, where he’d rewrite the ending or tweak the rising action so everything slides into place realistically, cause and effect in balance just right: Eddie can see that the way this has all shaken out is fucked up. So, so fucked up.

Because there honestly hadn’t been any signs that they weren’t laying the foundations of something long-term, something lasting; that they weren’t in this deep and rooted, strong and committed and serious in a real, tangible way, and, just…

Forever. Eddie was…he was playing for keeps, here. He thought, he just, he thought—

Fuck.

He just…really believed he wasn’t alone in it all.

Again: idiot.

It’d started so fucking predictably, really, because if there’s one thing that Eddie clocked about Steve Harrington from the get-go of actually getting to know him versus operating on the popular-gorgeous-jock framework he’d distilled the guy down to in his head before 1986: the one consistent thing he’d figured from what he’d heard and what he’d seen put together was that: Steve Harrington?

Bastard’s protective to a fucking fault.

So when he blinked back to the land of the living with Steve goddamn Harrington at his bedside? Standing guard, looking a little haggard—like he cared, at least enough to worry—but still fucking devastatingly pretty, good god-

When he woke up to that, Eddie was surprised and also: not at all surprised.

The way he lit up when he saw Eddie was conscious, like world was less before that moment and something right slid back into place? Eddie…Eddie felt like his body was pretty wholly broken but that fucking cracked something down his middle, decimated parts of him in new ways that hadn’t been already devastated on another plane, were sitting ripe for wholesale ruin.

He’d let Steve blame the breathiness that’d overcome him on coming back from the brink of death, because Steve didn’t need to know the sensations, the emotions, that were running riot through Eddie’s veins.

But then it hadn’t stopped.

Steve standing guard at his side became a constant, like Eddie couldn’t quite comprehend save that it felt like his body was knitting itself around the fact of this more-than-good dude and Eddie wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that, save kind of just…poke curiously at the new shape of everything he was for it, and once he worked through the fear of the unfamiliar in it?

To kinda…savor it. Roll around in it and relish.

Probably it was gonna be short lived anyway. Probably it was gonna go away when Eddie finally got out of here. Only made sense to soak it up while it lasted.

And it was one of those early days, where Eddie was soaking it up and before anything possible beyond the bubble of middle-space they were existing in inside Eddie’s hospital room was even hinted at. Steve had gone to check on Max while Eddie grappled a bit to look down at himself a little better under the handkerchief that the hospital deemed sufficient as clothing, and he braced for the worst because it felt like the worst and what he did remember at all from the scene of the inter-dimensional mauling definitely aligned with being ‘the worst’: but it was honestly mostly bandages and pain.

Eddie didn’t…on second thought he didn’t know if he was ready to see what was underneath just yet, so he was actually kinda grateful that his hubris about it all didn’t immediately have a chance to floor him, especially when he was alone because he’d thought it’d be easier to stomach if it was just him—but the prospect, the bullet dodged, lodged in his throat and proved him kinda instantly wrong for the sharp cut of bile rising in him, and the violent jump of his pulse right behind it.

His hand had gravitated to his chest, though, like he could keep his heart from cracking his ribs that way, and he noticed that…even the light pressure ached, so he looked down a little more carefully, didn’t think the little fuckers had concentrated their attacks on the center of his chest so he tucked his chin and tried to see what was causing the sting—maybe just like, general area tenderness after playing buffet table to fucking…flying hellspace rodents but—

No. No: even from this weird-ass uncomfortable angle, Eddie could see the outline, coukd make out the dark stain of a bruise.

In the shape of a hand.

And listen, Eddie wasn’t foolish. He knew that everyone busted ass to get him topside and to a hospital. And that probably involved…stuff he didn’t want to really dwell on too long in terms of the nitty-gritty of his own mortality. He was also very much aware that Steve had played a crucial role, even if the man himself didn’t stand up and declare it. The kids didn’t have any sense of a fucking filter, so.

Eddie knew.

But Eddie then started tracing the splay of fingers on his sternum, his heartbeat so fucking heavy under even just the brush of his nails as he followed the outline of the purpling over, and over, and over, imagined what it would take to make that kind of an impression on his skin because Eddie was fucking pale, yeah, he marked quick—but not that dark.

Not that deep.

“Shit.”

Eddie’d startled, snapped his attention to the doorway where Steve had reappeared, looking a little breathless as he took Eddie in, came quick to his side and leaned to look closer at the monitor next to him and oh: Eddie hadn’t realized that the beeping was so loud, so fast. Hadn’t realized his heartbeat had ratcheted up quite so high.

Not that he was surprised.

“Shit, are you okay,” Steve barely breathed, eyes so goddamn big about it as his hands had kinda hovered, as he’d tried to figure out what to do, how to help, because that was what he was always doing; that’s who he was to his core, and Eddie…

“Oh god, let me call the nu—”

“Don’t.”

Eddie’d half-moaned it, god: scratchy but desperate as he reached for Steve’s hand and he…

He suspected he knew exactly how big that hand was; what shape it’d make to a fucking T. But he needed to see

For sure.

“What are you,” Steve’s brow had furrowed in that way Eddie was becoming increasingly aware he wanted to kiss smooth, and he started to ask it as Eddie grabbed to uncurl his grip from the bar at the side of the bed but Steve gave up fighting quick, focused on stopping Eddie from moving at all instead, from stretching the way he was against the precarious threads holding him together as he reached for the neck of his gown again, still loose enough from where he’d pulled the back up, left his ass out against the sheets to bare his breastbone, the mess of the tattoos on his chest more grisly after everything than any horrors he’d gotten inked before but—

This was a different kind of horrifying thing. Not least—maybe most—because it was entirely possible that it was also the most beautiful, sacred thing to ever touch Eddie’s skin. To ever beat through Eddie’s fucking veins.

“You,” Eddie let go of the last breath he could wrestle out before his lungs seized up too tight, because then he was watching it happen, watching Steve’s broad palm as it hovered over the imprint, shivering when Steve’s warmth made contact: eclipsing the bruise near-perfect, just like Eddie knew deep down it fucking would.

His heart took the hint and started shivering under Steve’s hand immediately, like it had something to prove.

“Ed,” Steve’s voice was wispy, choked a little; eyes too bright and Eddie feels like there must be so many kinds of dying, because he’d felt one keenly under that angry red lightning; this was a wholly other thing.

But felt just as keenly life-or-death.

“You,” Eddie whispered, the words, the truth, the feeling of it all too fragile, too precious to disturb, and he wondered if his heart knew Steve had pushed the bruises down around it to save it, if that’s why it was so unbridled and unabashed in hammering against that touch, that touch—

“I think I heard you.”

And Steve? Big eyes framed with those feather lashes, stretched wide and all made of shine and earnest fucking feeling?

“You didn’t…want to lose me?” Eddie’s voice had been so small, so so small because he did think he’d heard that, and the wisps of recollection, of a frantic but resolute voice demanding of him: what he was able to collect and try to tie into a whole matched up when he paired it all with Steve in his head, but what if he was wrong?

What if it was all just fever dreams and wishful thinking on his deathbed, what if Steve had no investment in him beyond keeping the Party safe in its entirety, no exceptions; what if Eddie was fucking wrong and showed too much of his hand with this, with Steve’s palm pressed to his thrashing heart and—

Then Steve was brining his free hand to Eddie’s cheek, fucking…cradling it like it fucking meant something, like he could matter and—

“I couldn’t lose you.”

Oh.

“You,” and so many possible ways to end that thought had swam through Eddie’s head—you barely know me, you can’t possibly care if I live or die, I cannot matter one fucking bit in your universe, so why would it matter but Steve’s hand was warm under his, and Steve didn’t pull away, only leaned in, only stayed close enough that Eddie could feel his breath on his skin and Steve could chart the way Eddie’s heart took to pummelling his already-taxed ribs but it didn’t matter, it couldn’t matter because Steve held there, so careful of the pain but nothing short of steady, devoted, a soul-sworn guard of that heart under his hand like it did matter, like Eddie did…

Like Steve ever could—

“Stevie,” Eddie would probably have flushed if the situation had been anything but what it was. If his heart wasn’t racing into Steve’s touch at the chest and just under the jaw where Steve’s thumb pressed almost proprietary, almost like a shield but also like a welcome, like the idea of Eddie’s heart beating into him wasn’t a dealbreaker, and fuck, fuck—

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Steve breathed out against him, prickling dangerous across his skin and Eddie’s heart leapt a little, fuck; more than a little and Steve felt it, front-row-center, couldn’t not feel it but he just leaned closer still, and Eddie was front-row himself to the catch in Steve’s inhale, undeniable and unapologetic as he murmured low, turning into Eddie’s cheek a little and Eddie maybe resented how it forced him to pull away,until his lips brushed the tip of Eddie’s jawbone and drew a whole ass shudder down his goddamn spine.

“Just know,” Steve gasped there, fucking…panted and hell if it didn’t catch in Eddie’s blood like pure bliss; “just know why.”

And fuck, but Eddie could only press in to the warmth of Steve’s lips where they moved for the words alone, let alone what words; what Eddie thought maybe they meant—

“Me too,” Eddie rasped a little, because fuck him, man; this was something…something else, swelling up in his chest so strong and Steve had to be able to feel it where he still held against him, palm to his galloping pulse at the source, feeling the life he coaxed back into the world.

“Does it have to make sense just yet?” Eddie asked, knew he sounded too hopeful, too desperate, more than he’d earned, than was safe but his heart kept knocking against that hand, so fucking insistent and who was he to deny it, to try and wrestle in into being less when he couldn’t even hide it, when it was evident to the man it was leaping at; for.

“I don’t think so,” Steve mouthed more than spoke where his lips dragged wet across the stubble on Eddie’s cheek.

“Then,” Eddie tipped his head, tried to catch Steve’s eyes, aimed to reason, to convince but the moment he moved, Steve dipped his chin just so to take Eddie’s lips, to kiss so hard, so complete with what felt like it couldn’t even be reasoned as less than all of him, because how could less than all feel like this—

Fucking impossible.

And Eddie couldn’t shy away—as Steve kissed him breathless, left him gasping; Eddie couldn’t shy away from the sense that he was being killed and revived all over again, endless and unbreaking, and it was perfection.

Jesus fuck.

And the kicker was that…weeks passed. A whole month, close to another. And if anything changed it was all for the better, for the more and Eddie wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it, if he was entirely honest. He…the bruise healed, y’know? That brand above his heart but—

He didn’t need it anymore. That was the thing. He didn’t need to see.

He was very fucking aware. Every minute of every day. He was…so aware. It could kill him better than those bats, it was so big and so much, and so quick, but with all that, probably because of all that: Eddie’d never felt anything even remotely like what it meant to shake off sleep and have Steve Harrington kiss you to wakefulness, to hold you for the nightmares as much as the news of small victories on the road to recovery: never wavering.

Never leaving.

When Eddie got the go-ahead to continue his rehab outpatient-style, his original conviction that all of this ended at the latest upon discharge was immediately challenged, because Steve had become so much more than he’d started as, but Eddie still worried. Made himself sick over it.

Felt like an indefensible monster as Steve rubbed his back, brought him soup, tended him like Eddie didn’t cause his own suffering, and all for the terror of losing the very man who was there, without question.

Then he signed himself out, and Steve drove him home.

Save that Eddie recognized where they were headed and…he only knew one person in Loch Nora.

“Your uncle’s still in the motel by the plant,” Steve had explained what Eddie already knew but hadn’t put together when Eddie raised an eyebrow in askance, wholly unsure how to process any of this, any of this; unsure how to hope in the face of what he was seeing, held against what he was wishing.

“Government’s being fucking assholes about setting you up with someplace appropriate,” and something in Steve’s tone had made plain that he was not just very clear on what constituted ‘appropriate’, he was probably actively involved somehow in holding the people in question rightly accountable for appropriate, and nothing less.

And Eddie…he did say he didn’t need a mark you could see on his heart, didn’t he.

“You need the room while you get better,” Steve murmured as he killed the engine, and lifted Eddie’s hand to his lips, pressed his mouth on the knuckles, nuzzling a little, eyes closed and Eddie…Eddie didn’t know what to do.

The only saving grace was that he didn’t have a monitor to rat his ass out when his heart started trying to escape orbit—fuck just his ribs, how pedestrian—this time.

They sat in a living room that looked like it was once absolutely pristine and still was, mostly, but up close Eddie could see little snags on the sofa, could feel the texture of the fabric different under his fingers for scrubbing out a stain. He suspected four infamously unmannered teenagers were the culprits. The remaining stiffness of the cushions was good for the way his body was still working through being gnawed apart, but he was gone far enough to kind of immediately hope he’d see how they wore with love and use and maybe something more once they got there, once Eddie’s body cooperated again, because he…Steve brought him home.

And maybe they didn’t have to stop when Eddie left the hospital. Maybe he didn’t have to lose.

He’d only made it shortly past the best fucking grilled cheese he’d maybe ever tasted, and he didn’t think it was only because it was his first meal without an aftertaste of sterile in too fucking long—but he only lasted a little more than an hour before Steve’d helped him to a guest room on the first floor that’d obviously been reworked for him, from the way he could reach the bed from just inside the door, to the fucking posters that he knew for a fact Steve wouldn’t have had on hand, and Eddie’d giggled a little wetly at the Ozzy one, because he figured the man steadying him at his side would never be anything but intertwined with the Prince of Darkness in his mind, now—but Steve, who’d more than proven he was so far beyond any kind of king, won hands down. By a landslide.

And who could have seen that coming?

“Careful,” Steve chided him gently as he guided Eddie slowly down to the mattress and made to tuck him in, and the word was so warm, so warm but Eddie had to…

He had to reach. Again. He needed Steve, he…needed.

The handprint on top of his heart didn’t need to be a thing he could see, but he needed Steve to…know some level of what he was feeling, of how much was inside him already, and growing, the momentum building and he didn’t want to feed it, didn’t want to let it run if he wasn’t going to have someone to catch it, to run with him but he also didn’t think there was any chance to stop it, now, he didn’t think he could trim it back or tame it from consuming him and he wasn’t sure he’d even want to if he actually had the power because it was the best feeling he’d ever known, even if it was terrifying, even if it could hurt him more than anything he’d ever known and—

“I don’t want to be alone,” was what spilled from his lips with Steve’s hand above his heartbeat as it pumped so goddamn hard it couldn’t be denied, it couldn’t be misconstrued, and he didn’t want to sleep alone, didn’t want to lose what he’d rebuilt himself around all these weeks, he—

“Good,” and Steve leaned down, cradled Eddie’s face and tipped him up to kiss him full, hard, one hand still on his chest because that was the mark, the promise, the fight for all that this was and all it could be like a fucking vow and Eddie melted for it on sight, on contact.

“Because I’m not leaving,” and Steve brushed the tip of his nose back and forth against Eddie’s, his smile like honey in his tone as he pecked Eddie on the lips one more time before stretching his hand to follow him across the bed, to crawl to the other side and slide in next to Eddie, to carefully arrange him against Steve’s body, to wrap around him with so much care, to touch nothing too tender and everything safe to hold as Steve tucked his face against Eddie’s neck and kissed behind his ear as he breathed:

“Never gonna leave you all alone again.”

And Eddie believed him.

Eddie believed him.

And when, weeks later when Eddie was hurting less and moving more, perched in the corner of the couch that was starting to give a little under persistent weight, starting to feel like it was meant to be used and lend comfort; as Eddie was poking at campaign notes for the gremlins, pen caught between his teeth, he only paused when he felt the gravity of a familiar gaze settle on him—not immediately, because he liked just existing in it, feeling its heft, but after enough moments to satisfy him he looked up, met those eyes and felt them in his goddamn soul as he asked:

“What?”

And Steve had just kept on staring, the bare hint of a quirk at the corners of his lips spreading to the full sunrise of his smile.

“You fit, here,” and he’d said it so simply, so…much like a truth, a fact of the universe—Eddie Munson fits, belongs in this place, this space, this home, this life—and then the smile dimmed ever so slightly, cloud cover across the shine as Steve shifted a little, crossed his arms loose but still as a barrier over his chest: “if you want to, I mean—”

And Eddie sat up straighter, and he reached both his hands out to Steve because:

“I want to,” it was all he wanted, really; it wasso far beyond his wildest dreams but it was real, Eddie could see and touch it, taste it, feel it through his blood when it pumped, tracking through his whole body, filling up his heart overfull and magnificent and he as just…

“Sweetheart,” he took Steve’s hands and tugged him down to sit next to Eddie, settled him so close; “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want that.”

He leaned back, wholly prone and never once letting go of Steve’s hands, never once doing anything but keeping them laced together and anchored, locked tight and Steve matched him, followed him as Eddie drew him to his healed-enough chest to settle right at the center, to hear Eddie’s heartbeat for the declaration it was, it already was in its entirety:

“You fit here.”

And he did. They both did. Their worlds had shifted, grew around the shapes they made together and after not-long-at-all, they fit so fucking well that it was bespoke to their cells, they’d never fit anyone else. It was quick and it was heady and it was fucking right.

For months

And then it all went to shit.

Because Steve decided what should have been expected, honestly—that Eddie wasn’t worth the hassle, that he wasn’t right for Steve, that Steve’s staggeringly-expansive capacity for love was wasted to hell on this low-life dipshit who couldn’t even graduate on his third try at high school, who maybe didn’t have a murder charge anymore in the legal system but would never wash it clean from the court of public opinion, who was…trouble. Always trouble.

Not fucking worth it.

It’s just…Eddie never thought Steve would stop wanting him. He maybe went in reticent at first, but Steve had loved so hard out the gate that as soon as he knew he was allowed, and welcome? Eddie didn’t hesitate to meet that love beat for beat.

He just never imagined his love would ever be unwelcome; that that's how his heart would break.

What breaks in the moment, though—the heartbreak is constant, and unfortunately proving to be kinda fucking unending, really—but what breaks now is…possibly the handle on the front door for the way someone’s banging and jiggling it back and forth like the first time it didn’t give against the lock was just a fluke.

He frowns, considers waiting out whoever’s enough of a dick to knock like that but apparently not so witch-hunty to throw a brick through the window—which: Eddie will take progress, he guesses—but when a concerning creak sounds from near the hinges, Eddie thinks of Wayne, and how his uncle doesn’t deserve a broken front door, so.

Heartbroken or not, Eddie has to drag himself to deal with…this.

Then he’s throwing the door open and…this is—

“We need to talk.”

This should have been expected. There’s really only one little asshole who’d assault his door with that much…determination.

“Henderson—” Eddie huffs, because he knows he needs to set a date for them all to get together, he left the campaign they were in kinda dangling on a thread when he didn’t hold the gatherings at St—

Well, when their regularly scheduled venue became too much for Eddie’s heart to handle.

Which: okay, fine, he gets it but like, he can’t care as much as he maybe should when he feels like this, and the kids need to fucking take a chill pill and if they can’t understand, then at least they can just shut the fuck up for at a couple more weeks while Eddie licks his wounds and sees if they decide to finally scab over enough that he doesn’t keep with busting them back open every time he breathes—

“About Steve.”

Eddie’s heart shudders just to hear the name. He’s avoided hearing it for weeks, now; it hurts too much.

He hears it enough in his own head, in his dreams, in his nightmares when he see the worst, in the cadence of his fucking pulse because his heart doesn’t know how not to be Steve’s, kinda feels like it’s not interested in learning, will never be anything other than what it is now, forever, and—

“We need to talk about what you did to Steve.”

Wait.

Wait, what he did to—

What?

❄️

>>> part ii

for @kultiras🖤

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @sadisticaltarts @bumblebeecuttlefishes @shrimply-a-menace @wheneverfeasible @1-tehe-1 @themoonagainstmers @dreamercec @ravenfrog @live-laugh-love-dietrich @stealthysteveharrington @tinyplanet95 @theohohmoment @samsoble @tinyloonyteacups @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @pretend-theres-a-name-here @dragoon-ze-great

divider credit here

[worriedvision]

Ajaw ruins his relationship with you - Kinich

Gender neutral reader, angst. No happy ending here, borderline crack BC Ajaw is a cracky character let's be honest. Ajaws a little shit here

--

Kinich had, somehow, caught your eye enough for you to successfully land a date with him. One date becomes two, and the third one ends in you inviting him over for a drink. He accepts, and before you know it your home becomes a place for him to call home as well. While Kinich wasn't very emotive, he seemed to smile just a bit around you.

However, the couple affections you would expect from him in a relationship weren't coming. Nothing like kissing or hugging, and for a while you think it's because Kinich was not a touchy person. You also knew he was very busy with his work, which was why the first few times he left and told you not to wait for him you didn't think much. At the time, in fact, you were more attracted to him because he was honest with you.

"Don't wait up." He blankly states, every morning he leaves. If you're lucky, he comes back at night time only to sleep - he doesn't make himself any food or drink from your home.

You got suspicious of him when you were hanging out with Mualani, and she brought up the fact someone called Ajaw wouldn't stop nagging at Kinich. When you ask who Ajaw was, rather if this was his boss, Mualani laughs.

"Ajaw probably thinks so, but they bickering too often to do any work together." Mualani tuts. "Do you never hear Ajaw? That voice is so... Annoying to hear!"

"No...I've never met this Ajaw." You hum out, Mualani gasping.

"Tell me your tricks!"

--

Once you get home from your interaction with your friend, you've had enough time to think. After some long thinking, you come to a decision. You move the stuff that's Kinich's, leaving them by the front door, and add temporary locks in addition to the one your key locks until you can change the lock.

To your surprise, Kinich sounds surprised when he notices his bags out. You refuse to open the door, having more than enough time to waste as you had a day off, and Kinich defeatedly picks up his few belongings before leaving.

--

"Hah! You should see your face!" Ajaw jeers, Mualani and Kinich groaning out at Ajaws harsh words. "Good thing _ wisened up and realised they can do a lot better than some mortal being that can't even get himself a group of companions!"

"Because you always ruin things." Mualani sighs.

"Hey, I can't take credit for this one! I never even once spoke around _!" Ajaw shrugs, putting some sunglasses on.

"I was hoping to finally get to spend some time with them. I've finally got enough cover for a few days." Kinich states, seeming to realise what Ajaw did. "...Mualani, you know how annoying Ajaw is. Do you know if -"

"Oddly enough no! Honestly, I'm jealous. Ajaw doesn't know when to shut up."

"...It seems they do." Kinich massages his temples, Mualani making eye contact with him.

"...Do you think they were suspicious you were seeing Ajaw? Yuck!"

"Hey, I can hear you, ya know?!"

"It makes sense though. They don't know Ajaw isn't even human, and also isn't mortal."

"Hahaha! Oh boy, even I didn't think keeping my mouth shut around your potential love interests would give this benefit!" Ajaw cackles, seeing Kinich's hand flying towards him. "Hey, what are - AHH!"

--

You keep getting asked if Kinich is single, each time you saying he wasn't seeing you anymore before they seem excited to pursue a taken man. It's quite concerning, really, you think theres little dignity in being the other person in the relationship.

Kinich tried to talk to you, but each time you saw him you'd make an excuse for being too busy before hearing some weird child cackling and screaming in retaliation to someone reacting to them. As much as his hurt expression spoke to you, you still knew in your mind that Kinich was in a relationship.

Even if he wasn't, you would know in your mind that you were the second choice.

[lostgirlmuseum]

Who the Hell is Daryl?

Summary: Bucky is in love with you, and finally finds the courage to tell you. But what happens when it sounds like someone else is already in the picture? (Miscommunication!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Avenger!Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: Miscommunication trope! Only one small mention of “Y/N”, teensy bit of yelling, let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Wrote this a couple days ago and put it in drafts, spontaneously posted bc I'm procrastinating on an essay. Okay I'll get back to hw now :(

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

He was going to do it. He was really going to do it. 

He was finally going to ask you out.

-----

To the surprise of everyone on the team, you and Bucky had become fast pals after you joined six months ago. Something about the two of you clicked. ‘Opposites attract’ and all that, but Bucky always felt it went deeper than that.

The two of you had never argued, something he felt very proud of, considering he argued with most people. But not you. Never you.

The moment he decided that he needed to man up and ask you out wasn’t anything fancy. You were sparring with Wanda across the gym, and he was simply watching you work in tandem. He watched the entire 15 minute session, and didn’t take his eyes off you, even as you approached him. 

“Buck, I’m out of water, can I take a sip of yours?”

He nodded, “Sure, Doll,” and tossed you his bottle. 

You shot him a charming smile and opened the cap, and not-so-gracefully chugged half the bottle. You wiped your upper lip and handed it back to him. 

“Thanks, Jamie,” you breathily said, and jogged back to the arena. 

His head was completely empty except for a single thought, tumbling through his desert mind like a tumbleweed.

I’m going to marry her someday.

He shocked himself with the thought, he wasn’t sure where it had come from. But he couldn’t help the grin that snuck its way onto his lips as he realized he didn’t disagree with the thought.

Of course before marriage is dating. One step at a time Buck. 

After his realization, he had spent the next three days planning the perfect way to ask you out. He went through an entire list of ideas, but none of them seemed good enough for you. He wanted it to be perfect. But as the clock ticked on and he started running out of paper, he realized it was best to just be honest about his feelings. 

You had just gotten back from a solo mission, and Bucky was hanging out in your room as you showered.

He was blushing like an idiot and fidgeting like crazy on your bed as he waited for you to hurry up. It was surprising he had so much self control as to not blurt it out while you were showering.

“Oh, Bucky,” you called from the bathroom, the sound of the water pausing.

“What’s up?”

“Could you set an alarm on my phone for 7:30 A.M. tomorrow before I forget? I think I left it on the side table.”

“You got it, Doll.”

“You’re the best! I’m almost done, I’ll be out in like two minutes,” you called, and soon after the sound of rushing water resumed.

Bucky grabbed your phone and typed in the passcode, his heart fluttering a little as he thought about how you trusted him enough to know it.

But the flutter stopped almost as quickly as it started, the moment your phone turned on and resumed on your text string with someone. He would’ve ignored it, but a red heart at the top of the screen caught his eye.

Who the hell is “Daryl,” and why does he have a heart emoji next to his name?

Bucky couldn’t help himself as his eyes flitted over your last texts.

Daryl ❤️ I’m back in town, lemme know when you’re around 

You About to leave for a quick mission, but I’ll be back tmw evening. I miss you sm :( how about we meet up Monday morning at 8 at Bernie’s cafe?

Daryl ❤️ Lets do it. And I miss you too, can’t wait to see your beautiful face!! I love you, be careful

You Love you too, and Im always careful 😘

Bucky felt sick to his stomach. You had never mentioned a brother named Daryl, or any other kind of family member. And you’d told him about all your closest friends, and none of them were named Daryl. How did Bucky not know you had a boyfriend?

Bucky fought the urge to scroll up, and quickly tapped out of the app, and set the alarm you asked him to set. 

So you were meeting this “Daryl” tomorrow morning?

Bucky heard the water stop, and the sound of the shower curtain shuffling.

Shit. You were getting out. Fuck, he wasn’t ready to face you.

You’d never mentioned you were in a relationship before. He would remember. How long have you been dating? And more importantly, why did you keep this from him? Did you feel like you couldn’t trust him? Maybe you weren’t as close friends as he’d thought.

“Which movie did you want to watch tonight?” You asked, peeking out of the door with a turquoise towel wrapped around you.

“Um, I’m actually really tired, suddenly. I think I’m going to go to bed.” Bucky stuttered, avoiding your gaze as he quickly stood up.

“Oh, okay,” you responded, disappointment and concern lacing your voice. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. Glad you got back safe. Good night.”

With that, Bucky ducked out of your room and practically ran back to his.

Bucky tossed and turned, and once he got over his embarrassment, he settled into a familiar depressive feeling. Of course you didn’t like him back. What the fuck was he thinking? He’s—well, he’s Bucky. Broken, only destined to ever be your friend. How could he be foolish enough to think you would love him like he loves you. At about hour 4, the heartbreak started turning into betrayal. Betrayal that you kept this from him. And soon enough, that betrayal festered into a kind of resentment, something he’d never felt for you before.

He didn’t get much sleep that night.

Bucky checked the clock for the 20th time in the past 5 minutes. 7:45 A.M. You were probably about to leave. Bucky felt his heart clench. He was usually up by 7, and eating breakfast in the common area by 7:30. He sat at the barstool, dragging his spoon around his now soggy Coco Puffs, waiting for you to appear. Why he felt the need to torture himself, he didn’t know.

Finally, he heard your steps coming down the hall. 

And there you appeared, wearing the most beautiful sundress he had ever seen. It was lavender, and had small white flowers adorning the skirt, and it fell just above your knees. 

Bucky took you in, and his momentary adoration turned back to his heartbreak. You were dressed up as if you were going on a date. There was no chance this wasn’t your boyfriend.

“Good morning Bucky, did you sleep okay last night?” 

“Yes.” He lied. Maybe you would tell him the truth if he asked. Yes it would hurt hearing the truth from your mouth, but he wanted to give you a chance to tell him your secret. “Where are you headed?”

“To meet a friend,” you nodded smoothly. 

Maybe Bucky was crazy. Maybe he was overthinking all of this. Maybe Daryl really was just a friend.

“Which friend?”

“Penny.”

So you were just flat out lying to him now. Bucky nodded and waited for you to leave before moping back to his room. He wanted to cry. And he did for a minute, or two, but his tears turned from sad to angry when he remembered you were now lying. You never lied to Bucky, and Bucky never lied to you. At least, he thought that was how it was. He clenched his fists, mad at you for betraying him, but more mad at himself for believing he could ever have you.

He didn’t move from his bed.

“Bucky?” Your voice emerged after three knocks to his door.

He couldn’t get himself to respond. 

The door slowly creaked open, a stream of light flooding his dark room.

“Hey Buck. You okay? You seemed a little off this morning.”

“Fine.” He mumbled, not turning over in bed to face you.

A pause. 

“Jamie, what’s wrong?” You asked, closing the door behind you and flicking on the light. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?” You asked, slightly taken aback. You thought he loved your affectionate nickname for him.

“I don’t want you to call me ‘Jamie’ anymore.”

“Okay…”

He felt the bed dip as you sat next to him. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, “please talk to me.”

He sat up and gave you a pointed look. Was he being immature? Yes. But what could he do, he just discovered that his best friend has been lying to him, and doesn’t love him.

“Where were you?” He asked.

You furrowed your brows a moment, trying to piece together where he was going with this. 

“I was at Bernie’s with Penny.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He sneered.

Your eyes widened at his bite.

“I’m not lying? Bucky, what is going on?”

“What’s going on is that you’ve been keeping the fact that you have a boyfriend from me. Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“A boyfriend?” You blinked. “I don’t have a boyfriend,”

“Why won’t you be honest with me?” He yelled, and you scooted back.

“I am!”

“Then who is Daryl?”

“What?”

“I saw your texts last night, when you asked me to set your alarm.” Bucky looked down at his lap, ashamed.

“Bucky,” you sighed, and a look of understanding crossed your face. A moment later you held out your phone to him.

“What?” He asked, dumbly looking at your outstretched hand. The screen was on your text string with Daryl.

“Call the number.” You simply said.

“What?” He repeated.

“Take my phone, and call the number.”

Confused and suspicious, Bucky grabbed your phone and hesitated over the call icon. 

“Go ahead,” you urged.

He pressed the button. 

Ring.

Ring.

Ri—

“Hey!” A familiar feminine voice rang through the speaker. “What’s up hon?”

“Hello?” Bucky said, looking from the phone to you to the phone.

“Uh, hi? Is that Bucky?”

“P—Penny?” He sputtered.

“Hey Bucky! What’s up, is everything okay? I thought Y/N was calling.”

“Hey Pen,” you interjected, “Everything’s fine, I’ll call you back in a bit, kay’?”

“Sure thing, bye, love ya,” Penny added, and hung up.

Bucky stared at the now blank phone, baffled.

“I don’t understand.”

“Bucky,” you sighed, and tilted his chin to look at you. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Penny is in my contacts as “Daryl” because it’s my funny little nickname for her. My Dad has had a best friend since grade school named Daryl, and they don’t see each other often, but when they do it’s like nothing has changed. They get along like no time has passed. I call Penny “my Daryl” because I know that even if we don’t talk for years, we are so close that I know we would be the exact same.”

Bucky sat quietly for a moment, simply taking in your story. He felt really stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry I called you a liar.” He struggled to meet your gaze, ashamed of what he did.

“Jamie—can I call you Jamie now?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Jamie, I forgive you. But I wish you had just talked to me about it, and asked me. We are usually so good about being open with each other. What happened?” You asked, wide eyes looking into his.

“I know, I’m sorry. I flipped out, I guess I was just shocked, because I was going to—” he licked his lips, “well, I was…”

“You can tell me, Bucky. Honesty, remember?” You soothed, placing your hand on his leg.

He gulped.

“I was going to ask you to be with me.”

You tilted your head, not quite understanding.

“Like, I was gonna ask if you’d let me be your boyfriend.” He mumbled. “So when I saw that you were texting and saying ‘I love you’ to some guy, I guess I was just blindsided.”

“James,” you smiled, moving yourself to sit on his lap. You brought your forehead against his. “You silly, jealous man.” You gently stroked his cheek with your right hand. “You want to be my boyfriend?"

"It sounds so juvenile, I don't know, I just want you to be mine, and for you to call me 'yours,'" he mumbled.

"I accept," you giggled, and watched his glittering eyes shoot to yours.

He had started to say something, but he stopped when you brought your soft lips to his.

“I'm so happy,” he whispered between kisses.

Suffice it to say, Bucky completed step one of the path to marrying you.

A/N: Tysm for reading! If you liked it, please feel free to let me know!

Also I'm sorry if the ending sucks, I wrote this in a couple hours and Idk why I'm so bad at endings gahh

Here's my Masterlist if you'd like to read more!

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 141

Many would assume the flirtatious and caring bard to be the most touchstarved of the duo, but they would be wrong. Very very wrong. It was Geralt that sought out Jaskier's personal space like it was an all-curing ambrosia. Day and night, In town or in the woods, warm weather or the late autumn, Geralt would touch him. Always, always touching him. Don't get him wrong! Jaskier loves being groped all day by his rather attractive witcher friend, but it wasn't always the most convenient trait for his witcher to have.

*Growls* "Geralt, please, it's the waitress! She's taking our order."

Geralt clings to Jaskier's arms, plays with his hair, sniffs at his neck. He guides Jaskier with a hand on the shoulder, or an arm around his waist, or one time, - flustering Jaskier greatly - a hand on his hip. When Geralt is worried for him, he grips his arm, shields him with his body, or roams his hands over Jaskier's body, searching for injuries. Geralt is ever-present in Jaskier's personal space. It's just become a thing with them. Even in times of stress, danger, adrenaline. Geralt is fighting a manticore one day, and Jaskier is - admittedly, quite foolishly - in plain view. It wasn't on purpose! He's not an idiot! STOP JUDGING HIM! The beast goes to charge straight for him, and Geralt grabs his arm and whips him to the side, just in time to save him from the beast who then careens off a cliff. Jaskier pants, and feels the familiar weight of Geralt's hands. Geralt is snarling at him, shouting at him, and Jaskier tries very hard to understand, truly, he does, but it's hard. "Damn it, Jaskier, answer me!" Oh! REALLY should be listening now! "Hm?" "Are you hurt? Are you in pain?" "No, no, you- You saved me." Like always. Jaskier stares at his hero. His witcher. His Geralt. His love. For Jaskier does love Geralt. More than anything. And Jaskier seems to realize this fact more and more every day. With every move Geralt makes, with every word he says, with every little touch and caress. He thinks more on this fact later that night around the campfire. Geralt asks him to pass him a waterskin, but when Jaskier reaches to grab it, he hisses in pain. He rolls up his sleeve and sees a bruise in the shape of Geralt's hand on his arm. Right. From when he was saved. "I'm going to find some dinner." Geralt suddenly announces, standing abruptly and already shuffling away. "Wh- But Geralt, what about the watersk-" "I don't need it." He disappears into the bushes and trees, and Jaskier furrows his brow. He was sure they still had some food in their packs, why was Geralt so insistent on leaving? Curious... Even more curious, is in the following days, Geralt is avoiding him. From an outsiders perspective, nothing would appear wrong. But Geralt hasn't touched him once. No embraces, or odd sudden bouts of smelling Jaskier's hair, or holding his hand... He hasn't even stood closer than a meter to him. Jaskier worries to no end. What must he have done? What's changed? Why won't Geralt touch him? It's not until he's bathing one evening and he glances to the still-healing bruise that it clicks. Geralt feels guilty. The damned bleeding-heart is so convinced he's a monster that even a mark that shows protection shows only it's ugliest form to him. When Jaskier sees the bruise on his arm, he remembers Geralt saving him, he remembers the relief, he remembers feeling alive. Geralt only sees a bruise. Something of hurt. Caused by Geralt. Jaskier is so simultaneously horrified and infuriated that he slams open the door of the joined bathroom and marches into main area of the room they'd rented for the night. Still nude. Still dripping. Geralt, sat on the bed, midway through taking off his boots, was certainly shocked.

[wolvietxt]

ᰔ miscommunication prompts!

hidden feelings: one character overhears the other confessing they have feelings for someone, not realizing it’s about them. hurt and convinced they don’t stand a chance, they start to distance themselves, only to discover the truth when the other directly confesses.

misplaced blame: one character is upset, thinking the other let them down during a critical moment, unaware of the real reason behind their actions. after a heated argument, the truth is revealed, and they share a vulnerable moment, realizing they were never abandoned.

unspoken fear: one character misunderstands the other’s hesitation as rejection, not knowing it stems from personal insecurities. when the truth is revealed, they tenderly reassure them, breaking down walls together in a quiet, emotional moment.

misread actions: one character thinks the other is purposely avoiding them, when in reality, they’ve been planning a surprise. after days of miscommunication, the truth is revealed, and the surprise is met with happy tears and a relieved embrace.

priorities: one character believes the other is prioritizing someone else over them, feeling hurt and neglected. after a heartfelt confrontation, the other explains their actions, and they find comfort in understanding their connection remains just as strong.

forgotting promises: one character feels disappointed, thinking the other forgot an important promise they made, only to discover the other has been working tirelessly behind the scenes to make it happen. they end up overwhelmed with gratitude and affection.

missed opportunity: one character plans to confess their feelings but sees the other smiling with someone else, assuming they’ve already moved on. later, they learn their assumptions were wrong when the other gently confesses they’ve been waiting for them all along.

[aventurineswife]

"I loved you like the sun, yet you loved me like the eclipse," he whispered, his voice as soft and fleeting as a memory. Sunday stood before you, his eyes dimmed, the navy blue pupils lost in a sea of unshed tears. His halo flickered faintly, its once vibrant glow now a trembling reminder of his fractured divinity.

You couldn't look at him—not fully. To meet his gaze was to confront the truth you had both tried to outrun. So, instead, you focused on his trembling hands, gloved in black, clenched tightly at his sides. You remembered those hands as a refuge, their warmth steady even when his words faltered. Now, they were trembling barriers, guarding the chasm that had grown between you.

"I gave you my light, my constancy, my everything," he continued, his voice breaking as he took a tentative step closer. "And yet...you only came to me in the moments when your world was in shadow."

His wings fluttered, the feathers catching faint light as though they, too, were straining to hold him upright. You wanted to reach out, to say something—anything—but the words tangled in your throat like a knot you couldn’t untie.

"I never asked for more," he said, his tone sharpening with an edge of bitterness. "I knew what I was to you—a fleeting comfort, an illusion of peace. But even illusions have limits."

You flinched at his words, the truth of them cutting deeper than you’d thought possible. He wasn’t wrong. He had always been there, unyielding, while you drifted in and out, carried by tides of your own fear and longing. You had loved him, hadn’t you? Or was it simply the light he offered, the way it burned away the shadows you couldn’t face alone?

Sunday turned away, his shoulders taut with restrained emotion. His scarf fluttered, the golden underside catching the light like a thread of hope unraveling. "I loved you like the sun," he murmured again, the words more to himself now, "steady, unyielding, radiant. But you—"

He faltered, his voice cracking as the weight of his emotions bore down. When he spoke again, it was quieter, a whisper trembling with sorrow. "You loved me like the eclipse—beautiful, fleeting, only when it was convenient to forget the rest of the world."

His words crushed you, their truth unbearable. You had basked in his warmth, his constancy, without realizing how deeply you had wounded him by taking it for granted. And now, faced with the fragility of what you had shared, you could see the fractures you’d ignored all along.

"I didn’t mean to—" you began, but your voice broke under the weight of your guilt.

He turned to face you again, his eyes glistening, filled with a sadness so profound it stole the air from your lungs. "I know," he said softly, a faint, weary smile gracing his lips. "You never meant to. But intention doesn’t erase the pain, does it?"

For a moment, silence stretched between you, vast and aching. The tension in his wings softened, and his halo steadied, though its glow was dim. He reached out, his hand hovering just inches from yours. It trembled, caught between yearning and restraint, before finally retreating.

"I need to let go," he whispered. "For both of us. Maybe, one day, we’ll find the balance we never could before. But not like this. Not now."

And with that, he turned away, his steps light but unyielding. You watched as he disappeared into the distance, his presence fading like the final rays of a setting sun. All that remained was the echo of his voice and the crushing realization that you had loved him too late.

Inspired by me generating random quotes in my head while I brush my teeth in the morning 😇🫶

Expect more angst in the future lol

[user2772636]

Hate is *a strong word

(the wrong word)

You've been on eachothers throats since kindergarten. Now that college is coming, more competitions mean more rivalry. You can't keep bottling emotions cause they'll spill out.

Senior!Joseph Descamps x Senior!Reader

Warnings: swearing, smoking, ANGSTTT, two eyed joseph (sorry one eyed joseph lovers)

Reference to movie "Akeelah and The Bee"

Based on this request!!! @lovingaphroditesworld

Still based in Voltaire High, but mentions of some colleges and such

Champagne Coast - Blood Orange

Ever since you were little, you had an amazing mind. You won school competitions, aced all your exams, and were always the top of your class.

And with all of that came Joseph. He, too, had an amazing mind. So amazing, in fact, that you had started to doubt yourself, causing you to trip in the road of straight A's.

That's when you started to hate him. You hated his handwriting, his smile when he received a paper back with the plaster of a letter that makes you think he's catching up to you. Way too quick for your liking.

Then, when you hit middle school, you hated more things. You hated the way his glasses slipped a little when he was focused too much on his work or when his hair was all messed up when he played with his friends or runs late for an exam.

Of course, when high school came, you hated and hated away. You hate the way he's become twice your size, towering over you like some lampost. Or the way he talks to other girls with such arrogance. Or the smell of smoke that lingers when you walk by him.

That's the thing with Joseph. You hate him.

Now, when Joseph met you in kindergarten, he was head over heels. He loved the different ways you styled your hair. He loved it when you scrunched your nose at him. He loved your laugh and your chipped smile.

In middle school, he continued to love you. He loved it when he caught you staring, even though they were glares. He loved how invested you get when it comes to school. He even loved you when you got grumpy and mean.

But then high school happened. Things changed for him. He started to really notice how you saw him. Then he started to hate it. He hated that you hated him. And now, he hates you.

He hates when you ignore him after he's asked for a spare pen or when you don't care about the fact he's talking to other girls. And these girls were nothing compared to you.

He hates that you click your pen when you can't figure out a question or when you spend all your time in the library reading instead of taking in your high school years.

That's the thing with you. He hates you.

Now, with only one year left with you, he wouldn't even bother anymore.

January 12, 1966 - 7:51 am - Voltaire High

Students crowd the corridor, echoing sound of clicking heels, low laughing, and chatter. You keep your binders close to your chest as you walk up the massive stairwell.

Feeling a pair of eyes on you, you look up to the balcony expecting your friend, but your face drops as you see his glasses framed eyes.

You look away. One more year left, you think. Just one more year.

The bell rings once you make it to the main hallway, hurrying your steps to settle into English. Once you walk inside, a small group in the corner of the room goes quiet. You glance over and realise it's him again.

Joseph shushes his friends, clasping a hand over their mouths in order to keep them quiet. When he makes eye contact with you (again), he nods as a greeting. You only glare, making his friends snort quietly at him.

"I told you to stay quiet!" Joseph whisper shouts to his group.

"But your girlfriend-" Dupin starts, cut off with Joseph clasping his hand on the boys mouth again.

"She's not my girlfriend!" He scowls at Dupin.

You roll your eyes, and only then does Joseph realise how loud he was. He blushes (in frustration, of course) and hurries to his seat, eyes boring into the side of your head.

January 25, 1966 - 12:03 pm - Voltaire Library

It was peaceful. You had just been dismissed for your lunch break that you could still hear the footsteps and clatter of your fellow schoolmates. The sun was at its peak, the light cascading brightly even in winter through the tall windows of the library.

Only a few had been in the room with you, including your sweet librarian and her husband.

Scanning through a page of a philosophy book you've found, your eyes stop when you hear the loud creak of the door.

Slowly, you look up, catching three pairs of eyes looking at you. They quickly disappear, leaving you furrowing your eyebrows. Their identities are revealed when exactly those three boys waltz right in. You don't even try to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

Descamps' friend group whistle through their lips, eyes wandering everywhere but you. They scratch their head, fiddle with a pen or an apple.

Joseph's tall frame stands out from all of them. You mean, how could he not? Especially with his ash brown coloured hair glowing from the natural light.

Mrs. Beauforde, your librarian, looks at you and raises her brows as if asking. Do you want me to make them leave?

Just to make things easier for the older woman, you smile and shake your head no. You'd take care of this. You always have.

Getting up with your book in hand, you go back to the corner of the library where you found it. You hear the rather loud footsteps of the boys, and your head starts to hurt at their antics.

Slipping the book through an empty slot, you turn swiftly to catch them in the act. They spread out as if you hadn't caught them right then and there. Placing both hands on your hips, you slowly walk over to the boy you knew lead his.

"Joseph," You say, voice low like confronting a child. "Would you like to explain why you're stalking me?"

He looks at you, baffled. "Stalking you?" He chuckles, placing a hand on his chest. "You flatter yourself too much."

This only angers you. He's so arrogant it just makes you want to kiss slap his mouth shut.

You tongue your inner cheek to keep yourself from saying something that would get you in trouble.

"Leave me alone, Joseph. Schools almost over, you won't have to see me again. Give me a break." You sigh, looking down on both of your feet.

Honestly, you were getting a bit tired of his stuff. You're both seniors now, almost off to college, ready to take on the reality of being adults.

When you glance back up at him, there's a solemn look on his face.

To Joseph, he didn't want to stop. He couldn't. The thought of you never seeing eachother again made him feel heavier. He should be feeling free. There'd be no more competitions, no more distractions, and the feeling of being on top would be right there.

But he didn't feel that. He felt heavier. Like, if you were gone, there was no more trying to prove he's better than the best, or no more sneaking out with his friends to see what your up to, no more of those glares that he's grown to hate then grown to like.

So there he was, just staring at you like you were the only thing keeping him happy. The only thing that fills his mind.

It scares you.

"What?" You stutter out, scanning his face for something, anything that showed he wasn't feeling what you were thinking. But there's nothing. A chill rattles your spine even in the warmth that a library usually gives you.

He shakes his head, looking at you through those frames you've grown used to seeing slip on his beautiful nose.

He sighs, turning around and leaving you stood there.

You hadn't even noticed that his friends left, or that the librarian couple was staring at the both of you the whole time. It's as if the world disappears when he's there.

That makes you angry.

He's going to be a distraction. Now you're thinking that it's a good riddance he'd be gone by college, because if he'll be there, then you'll just get distracted because he's there being his handsome self.

You stomp away from the library, lunch break long over.

"When do you think they'll get together?" Mrs. Beauforde whispers to her husband.

Mr. Beauforde chuckles. "How long did it take you to finally like me back?"

Mrs. Beauforde rolls her eyes, a lingering smile on her face. Her eyes go back to the door you just left through.

"They remind me so much of us back then." Mr. Beauforde places a hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Well, look where we ended up." He grabs one of her hands gently, kissing it with much love and care.

Febuary 19, 1966 - 8:13 am - Voltaire High

An English Quiz Bee was set to take place in late Feburary and end in mid March, in the same week your school year ends.

The draft of students picked were top ten of your English class. Only 2 would be able to compete in the semi-finals.

Automatically, you're there. Automatically, he's there.

And obviously, you both win.

Today was Saturday, and you're on your way to school for your review with Ms. Couret when you accidentally slip on fresh ice.

You yelp in surprise, the solidity of the ground makes your back sting in pain. Luckily, you hadn't hit any area that would cause a concussion or sprain.

Just when you thought luck was by your side, Joseph rounds around the corner of the sidewalk you were in, stopping in his tracks at the sight of you.

When he finally did recognise you, he wasted no time helping you up and checking you for injuries.

"What are you doing out here? You know the ice hasn't fully melted yet, and you're just absentmindedly walking around. With nobody, might I add. You're going to kill me one day!" He exclaims, and you only furrow your eyebrows at his behaviour.

"Why do you care so much anyway? Don't you remember we have a review with Ms. Couret?" You ask, voice raised slightly at the simmering annoyance in your chest.

"I just came from school. The guard said Ms. Couret couldn't make it today; that she was supposed to tell us sooner but forgot." He matches your tone, his heavy breaths highlighted by the cold air making small clouds.

"Oh." Dead air fills around you. The empty streets covered in bright snow made you realise how cold it was, and you shiver from each breeze.

"I'll just go home then." You turn on your heel, ready to head back to your place when Joseph's deep voice gravels to your ears.

"Hey." Joseph calls. "She left me the reviewers. Do you want them?"

You turn around to see him making his way towards you. His forest green scarf goes up to his chin, nose and cheeks tinted pink. For the first time, you thought he had looked adorable.

You only nod, putting a hand out and receiving the papers. You skim your eyes through them to make sure that he was actually telling the truth, and gladly he was.

You turn to really walk back home now. After a few steps, you begin to notice the snow crunching behind you. You had to do a double take when you see Joseph's tall figure following.

"Why are you following me?" You stop again, facing him. He halts in surprise, brows raised.

"What? You have the reviewers. I need to review too, you know?" He shrugs.

You stare at him quizzically.

"So?"

"So what?" Joseph asks.

"So why are you following me? I'll just give them to you later in the afternoon."

"No, that'd just be a waste of time. Plus I've got... stuff to do this afternoon."

He rubs the back of his neck and looks away.

"What stuff?"

"Why do you have to know?"

You squint. You don't exactly have an answer for that. You don't even know why you asked.

"What's the plan here?" You don't answer his previous question.

"I review with you at your place."

Joseph. At your place. Your place.

"No!" You exclaim, throwing you hands up. "No way!"

"Why not?!" He mirrors you, scowling a bit.

"Because..." You linger at the reason. Again, you don't know what to say. Seems like that these days.

"Exactly. No answer. Let's go." He walks past you, bumping your shoulder gently. You watch him stride the sidewalk with confidence, looking side to side at the town buildings and shops.

Then he halts. He faces you.

"You coming?" He yells.

Why can't you say words anymore?

Febuary 19, 1966 - 9:38 pm - Your Flat

Thirteen hours. The review lasted for thirteen hours, and it's still going. You've gone through every page, every space, every comma, every period, consonant, vowel, silents letters, dictionaries, and encyclopedias; none of them were enough. You weren't enough.

"I'm a failure." You slump against the side of your bed. "I'm a total, utter failure."

Joseph fell asleep six times through the whole thing. Came right back up each smack from you and a delivery of espressos.

"If you were, you wouldn't be doing all of this." Joseph yawns as he slides down next to you.

You look back at him, smacking his shoulder for the thirty-sixth time. A lot of numbers are being counted.

Joseph hisses. "I'm gonna start to bruise if you keep doing that." He lifts his sleeve up, cuffing it to his collarbone before showing you. "See? It's already turning purple!"

You scoff out a laugh, looking away from embarrassment. The real reason you had looked away was because his arms were so very toned. Especially for a smartass like him. Your cheeks go pink. "Whatever."

He smiles at you, looking down at the floor and pressing a knee to his chin. Spending the whole day with you was not a part of his plan (It was actually exactly the plan, even if he didn't want to admit it, but it went longer than expected, not that he's complaining. He didn't even have a "thing" this afternoon.) His thoughts are cut off by you speaking.

"Wait." You furrow your brows, recounting every bit of information you've received that day. "Didn't you say you had a thing to do this afternoon?"

"Well... yeah but-" You gasp, standing up and grabbing his shoulders all the while. You drag him up and push him towards your door.

"Oh my god! It's already nine! Why didn't you say anything?!" You groan in frustration, continuously pushing Joseph to your living room now.

Joseph yelps as he trips over your red couch, tumbling down on the floor, his head thudding against your coffee table whilst he shouts afterwards. "Ow!"

"Fuck, Joseph!" You stumble on your feet, rushing to his side. There's no bleeding or bruises, surprisingly, but he seems a bit wonky.

"Oh my god, an angel. You're beautiful..." He mutters, hands reaching up to cup your cheeks. Your face feels hot, and you can tell how red you were right now. "I'm in heaven!"

"Get up, asshole!" You smack the same shoulder he was complaining about earlier, earning another hiss from him. He seems to get out of his daze when he locks eyes with you, his face going blank with boredom. "Oh, it's just you."

Your face goes from red of flattery to red of anger. You lift him up once again, going back to your original plan of pushing him out the door.

Once he's out, you slam your front door in front of him, getting a 'hey!' from the other side. After a while, you hear his footsteps retreating. You slide down the door in exhaustion, sliding a hand through your face.

You glance toward the kitchen, the sink full of dishes from earliers lunch. The pans on the stove that you two used to cook, and you remember Joseph burning himself cause he held a hot pan on accident then you having to take care of him afterwards.

You walk back to your bedroom, seeing the scattered papers, pens, and books. You remember finding Joseph lying fast asleep on your pillows, hugging them tightly. And as you tried to wake him up, berating him for his childish manners, he incoherently mutters some words that sounded like 'wait, it smells like you' and 'join me'. Obviously, it's very weird... you guess.

But that's whatever. You won't have to see his face when you go head to college. You won't have to hear his voice, go through those ridiculous pranks, or find him in corners with his friends catching his eye following your moves.

Oh, how you wish you'd see him again.

March 5, 1966 - 7:48 am - Annual SHS English Quiz Bee Semi-Finals

Nothing made sense anymore. Growing up, it had been etched in your mind that you were made for this place. Every test you've aced, every activity you've cooperated in.

So when you receive the letter that you were rejected from your dream college, nothing made sense anymore.

You spaced out so much that day you didn't even hear your mom trying to get you to eat a bit faster, or your dad telling you you arrived. It took them raising their voices and nudging you a bit.

It seemed scary. Nothing made you budge. You were so stuck in your head from disappointment that you couldn't get a grasp of yourself in the real world. You felt stuck-

"Hey."

He didn't need to raise his voice. He didn't need to nudge you. He didn't need to call for you multiple times so you could snap out of your trance. One word was all Joseph needed to get you out of your head.

"Hi." You whisper, trying to get yourself composed once you've realised where you were.

Seats were filling the gymnasium up. Families and friends come in to support their kids. You spot your own parents in the crowd, nodding to them in greeting before your eyes go back to Joseph.

You don't even realise your leg was shaking until Joseph put a palm down on it. You sighed a breath of air you hadn't even known you were holding.

"You better be good, Y/N, or all that reviewing went for nothing."

You couldn't help but laugh at this, but having the rejection in the back of your mind made you have second thoughts.

You really shouldn't try anymore anyway. If your dream college rejected you, why would you even try anymore?

All of these questions came back to your mind, so once again, you're stuck in your trance, but this time, Joseph doesn't snap you out. He knows you'll make sense of it all at your own pace, whatever you're thinking about.

It's like clockwork. One by one, students leave the stage from their loses, each of them wearing a solemn face. And like clockwork, it's the two of you again.

"With only three minutes in the clock, two students both from Voltaire High compete head to head. Who will move on to the finals?" The commentator announces. The audience bounce in their seats in suspense. Your stomach flips over, and you feel like gagging.

Question one was for Joseph. He aced it, looking smug as always when he came back to his seat next to you. Two minutes left.

Question two was for you.

"What is the term used for the second to the last in a series?"

Penultimate. It's Penultimate.

"A. Ultimate,"

It's penultimate.

"B. Penultimate,"

It's B.

"C. Antepenultimate,"

It's B. It's Penultimate.

"Or D. None of the above."

"Letter C."

They know I'm wrong. I know I'm wrong.

Joseph knows I'm wrong.

"Incorrect. The answer is B, penultimate." I knew that. I knew the answer. But it didn't matter anymore. This competition didn't matter. I can't get into the college of my dreams, then I won't try anymore.

"Score is now a tie. The next round will be a speed test with only one minute left on the clock." They bring out papers and desks to our place on the stage. I glance at Joseph, and he's staring at me as if I just grabbed his heart and stomped on it.

"You knew." He says, barely even muttering.

"Knew what?" I squint at him, the bright lights of the spot light hurting my eyes.

"You knew the answer." He doesn't look away. He doesn't look mad. He seems sad about it. Disappointed.

"... yeah." You sigh simply. You couldn't lie to him, seeing as he already knew. In fact, you've spent so much time with him your whole life and you only realised now. He could probably know you more than you know yourself. If only he wasn't so self-absorbed.

"Y/N." You nod in acknowledgement, not daring to face him right now.

"Look at me." His voice got softer, and you help but peek at the worry now displaying on his face. He seems so serious about what he was gonna say.

"You do your best." He purses his lips for a moment, and my throat starts to dry. The way he still wants me to keep going is startling.

"You do your best, or I don't want it." He's so close. Close to winning, close to me. There's a feeling lying under my brain. Under all those studies and all those infuriating words. Like I still want to see him next year. Like I've never wanted to stop looking at his face or hearing his voice.

But I can't. I've gone too far hating him to stop. He sees me as someone who can't stand him, who can't wait to get rid of him. Only now I've thought that maybe I hurt him. Now I care. Now, when it's too late.

So I just nod. And I listen.

And...

"It's a tie..." The commentator murmurs, going over the two pieces of paper me and Joseph finished. Confusion hovers over the crowd, not quite hearing what the commentator said.

"I-It's a tie! The two Voltaire High students have tied!" Gasps spread throughout the people. None of them would've thought this would happen.

"It's just been announced to me there will be a private second tie breaker tomorrow morning, of course, unless one of them backs out." Slowly, almost carefully, cheers and claps echo against the walls of the centre.

This was too much. You'd back out the second you got off. That second started now.

You sped walk to the backstage, trying to find your way to the commentator. Joseph was hot on your tail.

"Y/N! Where are you going?" He yells from the crowd of backstage personell. He speeds up just enough to grab your wrist.

"You're going too fast. Slow do-" The smile wipes off his face when he sees the tears running down your face. His brows crease in worry, searching your eyes for a sign of reason.

"Hey, hey, hey. Why don't we go to a more private area?" He does know you too well.

Autumn in the second grade. When Joseph still loved you and you still hated him. He found you crying in a corner near one of the bathrooms. He walked up to you that day, shrugging off his worry of your fury.

"Hey, are you okay?" He said nonchalantly, trying not to seem genuinely upset at you being genuinely upset.

You look up, teary-eyed. "Go away, Joseph."

Of course, he ignored you. Like stubborn little kids do. And he sits next to you, knees touching each other. Your tiny beating heart couldn't handle the speed of it, but it felt so nice you didn't say anything.

"I like to be alone when I cry, too..." Joseph trails off. "My mommy tells me I can't go out too much because one time a bee bit my eye, and it got puffy. She said I wasn't her beautiful boy anymore and took me to many doctors, just so she could have her beautiful boy back."

You puff out your cheeks, wiping away dried tears from them. You look down at your lap.

"I think you're a beautiful boy always. Even when you're annoying." He scrunches his nose at this.

"I'm not annoying!" He squints his eyes at you, but he sees you laughing, and he doesn't seem annoyed anymore.

He huffs and looks away. "I-I think you're a very beautiful girl, too. Always." He whispers so quietly that even if you were so close, you couldn't hear.

"What?" You say as you sniffle, looking at him with eyes he'd describe as something he'd purposefully drown in.

"N-Nothing!" He stutters out, gets up, and runs away. That was when you thought to yourself for the first time that he wasn't so bad.

You nod at his words, wiping the tears of your face. He took you to a changing room, which was gladly wide enough so you had enough space to relax. The huge couch in it helped, too.

You plop yourself down, sighing heavily. You control your breathing and close your eyes. You feel the couch dip beside you.

"...you wanna talk about it?" Joseph mutters out after a few minutes of silence.

"I'm gonna back out." You say, not bearing to see the way he was looking at you right now. You felt it seep through the room, the way he tensed next to you.

"What do you mean?" There's a shake in his voice that indicates he's unsure.

"I'm backing out." You repeat.

"...why?" You can hear it. He's angry. What does he have to be angry about?

"What do you have to be angry about?" You furrow your brows, getting enough courage to look at his frustrated face. Or worried.

"What do I have to be angry about? Y/N you- You've been talking and reviewing non-stop for this, and suddenly, you're backing out!" He stands and towers over you, and you're back in middle school still hating it.

"Yeah, well, you have no right! Plus, since I'm out, then you're in. You should be celebrating or preparing or whatever the fuck you want to be doing!"

"Why should I be celebrating when all I'm gonna be thinking about is that you're backing out for no fucking reason?!"

"Well then, stop thinking about me! You hate me that much anyway!" Joseph flinches back, a rabid emotion in his eyes.

"You've got to be kidding me." He's muttering to himself again.

"What now?" You groan out, annoyed by his previous habit.

"Me? Hating you? After all the shit we've gone through?"

What does he mean? You squint your eyes at his approaching frame.

"Sure, I hated the way you looked at me sometimes. Or the way you're always so close to beating me. Hell! I hate it when you beat me!"

You back off each step he takes closer, making your back almost near to the wall.

"But I loved you, Y/N. I love you."

No. No, no, no, no, no. No fucking way.

"Yeah. I love you. I hate that I love you. I love you so much that I hate you. The way we are, it's killing me, Y/N. Fucking ripping my heart apart everytime we keep this shit up."

You trip over your feet, the wall thudding as you exhale. A gasp gets caught on your throat when Joseph cages you in.

"You're staying in. I'm gonna go up to the commentator and tell him I'm backing out, and you're staying in. Do you understand?"

You couldn't speak. He was so close. The details you haven't seen in a decade still stay on his face. His beautiful face. Always a beautiful face.

"Do you fucking understand?!" He rasps, shaking your shoulders in desperation. He tugs his head down. "Please..."

"Yes." You couldn't help the crack on your voice. What was happening, whatever it was, you couldn't handle right now.

"Smart girl." He whispers in your ear. Then, he's gone.

March 7, 1966 - 6:32 am - Annual SHS English Quiz Bee Finals

The light patter of rain hits the windows of your car, the windshield wipers squeaking each left and right turn. The car is quiet, only sounds of water falling, and Elvis Presley's "Can't Help Falling in Love" on the radio.

"I've always seen the way he looked at you, you know?" Your father's words fill your ears. You turn your head to the drivers seat where his hands are posted on the wheel.

"What?" You ask. Your father was a man of few words, but he was always there, and always will be.

"Joseph." There's a pang on your chest. "I'm assuming that's why you were in a sour mood while we celebrated?"

You don't acknowledge him. He keeps going.

"Since the first day of school, there was something that drew him to you. Of course, I was a bit sceptical. I mean, you were my little girl. Still my little girl." He chuckles to himself, stopping the car when a road sign comes by.

"Now you're all grown up." He turns his head to look at you, letting go of the steering wheel. You look up at him hesitantly, awaiting what words would come out of his solemn mouth.

"I have to hand it to him. He's a tough kid, waiting all these years and still not trying to steal your heart."

He smacks his lips in thought, shaking his head at whatever was going on in his head.

"I'm not gonna tell you what to do. I'm gonna let you figure all this out. But let me tell you one thing." He leans in close, and you can feel the warmth of his parenthood radiate to you. "He's gonna love the hell out of you. I sure do."

The light goes green, and he drives with caution like a dad always does.

And you sit there because your dad is right. But he's wrong, too.

You always caught Joseph staring. Always caught him lingering near. Throughout preschool, middle, and high. Now college is near and you don't think you can live without that sense of him.

That supports your dad being wrong. Joseph didn't need to try to steal your heart. He already had.

"Stop the car." You blurt out. Your heart's beating more and more rapid, and you can feel it through your chest.

"What?" He mimics a question you asked earlier.

"Dad, stop the car!" The wheels squeel as they stop to the side of the road.

"What's wrong?" Your dad worries, checking to see if you're alright.

"I have to get him." You look at your dad, and all he can see is his little girl with that glimmer in her eyes when she knows what she wants. "I have to get Joseph."

He looks at you. He smiles. "I knew you'd come to your senses."

He turns the car around, heading back to town with a new objective.

And when you get there, the rain pours heavier, your heart drums faster in your ears, and all you can feel is adrenaline.

And all you hear is ringing. Even when he shows up with his head of hair messy and eyes squinting down at you. You answer even when you can't hear.

"Please." You pant. Your senses seem to come back, and you feel the clinging of wet clothes on your body, the rain hitting the porch roof. "Please come."

"Y/N-" You cut him off, grabbing his collar and connecting your lips onto his like a full blow.

Everything feels like it's on fire, the cold you felt earlier gone, and it feels like it would be forever.

You don't wait for him to kiss you back, pulling away with desperation in your eyes mixed with a bit of craze.

Joseph opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out except noises from the back of his throat like he was choking. You slowly let go of his collar, and he pulls away, back to towering over you.

He pulls two fingers up to his lips, his ajar mouth staying in place for so long that you worry if it's hurting yet.

"Wait here." He closes the door, brows furrowed in determination. The door slams, and you flinch just a bit. Not a second later, he's in front of you again, pulling you in to another kiss.

This lasted a bit longer than the other one, a bit rough around the edges from the unexpectancey of it.

"God, you're gonna kill me one day." He pulls away, closing the door again.

6:58 am

The drive there was extremely awkward. You were sat in front of your father, who was oblivious to what had just happened between you and the boy in the backseat. The silence was so tense you could cut it with a knife.

Joseph, bless his pretty heart, took with him spare uniform for you; which of course, you insisted it wouldn't fit, and he said he didn't want to see you sopping wet on the stage. So, here you are now.

"Ready kid?" Your dad asks, adjusting the too large cuffs of Joseph's uniform on your body. You look up at him, lips pursed in focus.

"Ready." You turn your head to look up at Joseph. Your dad seems to get what you want to do, excusing himself to go look for the seats.

"Hey." You say quietly, the bustling noise behind the curtains almost covering it up. Almost.

"Hi." He replies, a small smile upturned on his lips.

You cast a glimpse from the crack between the large curtains, seeing the number of people seated and walking.

"Y/N." Joseph mutters, mouth near your ear, and only then did you notice he had leaned down next to you, taking a look where your eyes were.

"Joseph, look-" He cuts you off with a small peck on your lips.

"Not now. Go focus on this and win like you always do, alright?" He cups your cheek and his hand is so warm you'd have fallen asleep right there and then.

You nod absentmindedly.

"Okay, well, good luck. Except you don't even need it." He winks, leaning back and exiting the backstage. You stay stunned in your place that you hadn't even heard the stage manager calling you to come up.

And then you aced it. All questions answered with no mistake, all glares from opponents ignored. You and the rest of the audience couldn't even believe you with the pace that you were going at. All you knew was you were there to win.

"Last question, Ms. Y/N." Here it goes.

"What is the term used for the second to the last in a series?"

Holy shit.

"A. Ultimate,"

No way.

"B. Penultimate,"

You were gonna win.

"C. Antepenultimate,"

You glance up at the audience, and you catch his eye immediately.

You do your best, or I don't want it.

"B. Penultimate."

"Ms. Y/N L/N, you are the winner of this years SHS English Quiz Bee. Congratulations!"

Cheers erupt in the stadium. Flashes of cameras blind your view, but you could only look at him. Even when the trophy was handed to you, even when the cameramen asked you to look their way.

You quickly handed the award to the competitions administrator, leaping and jumping down the stage to reach him. He was already halfway towards you.

You colide on the stair platform, the impact making him fall on the floor, his arms wrapped securely around you. You clutch on his head to remind yourself that this was real. You had won the Quiz Bee, and you had wont his heart, too.

With the sun almost fully set, the crowd slowly dissipates from the large parking lot. Your father had made his way to start the car, leaving you and Joseph in front of the buildings main entrance.

"So..." You mutter, already know what's about to happen.

"So?" He mirrors, a small smile finding a way into his face.

"Joseph, I'm sorry." Tears pool in your eyes. "I hated you so much, and I was so blind to see that you were right in front of me all along. I care a lot, and even when I was being a bitch you still stayed. How can you even like me still? How did you even like me at all?"

Joseph sighs deeply, hands coming down to hold onto yours. "I don't care about all that stuff anymore. You're here and with me. And hopefully... not hate me anymore?"

You can't help but chuckle. "Oh, I still hate you."

He raises his brows at you. "Well, that's better than nothing, right?"

You scoff with a smile. "You're stupid."

He squints down at you. "Well, if I recall, I almost beat you in the semi-"

You grab his collar and pull him down to a kiss. You don't think you'd ever get rid of that first-time kind of feeling.

He holds you like he doesn't want to let go, but does it so gently as if you'd break the second he grips too hard. And you like it. Because he cares.

Summer in kindergarten. The type of heat that choked you to the point all you wanted was a large watermelon shake to cool you off.

The same summer that was nearing the end of school. The same summer, you overheard your parents talking about moving to someplace else. The same summer you told your friends about it. The same summer Joseph knew he wasn't ready to ever let you go.

He found you in your classroom, hair all tied up whilst you were drawing on a piece of paper. Joseph hadn't ever seen something so beautiful. You were like art he could never take his eyes away from. But that summer he thought he had to, because you were leaving.

"Y/N..." His small voice caught your attention. You look up at this little boy in front of you, his face showing that his heart is currently in his sleeve. You couldn't help but worry.

"Joseph? What's wrong?" Sure you didn't really like the guy, but you were a decent human being.

He sits down next to you, trying to control his breathing. "Don't go." His eyes start to wet, and it gets blurry.

"Joseph, what do you mean?" You furrow your eyebrows, slowly going forward to hold onto his hand.

"Don't go to Italy. Don't leave me. I haven't- I haven't told you about-" how he felt. "Please dont go."

"Joseph, I-" I don't want to go either. "Stop crying..." You're hurting me.

He goes forward and holds you as he sobs on your shoulder. He held you so gently you could've fallen asleep, but so firm that you couldn't even run away. You didn't want to.

That's how Joseph was. He had always loved you. And deep in your heart, you had always loved him too.

>>>>>

A/N: this took me MONTHS???? and im still not satisfied but i need to get this out for bae (sorry it took so long) ummmmm very good very yes, yes? Akeelah and the bee is so cute and lowk so them, they r so messy but wtv guys theyre together now love them. Y/N so stupid but its for the plot guys ok. Hope u guys liked it bcs this took so long for no reason. Happy reading!!!

[viatoripatuit]

this hurts because they really are the definition of "just because i'm not showing you love the way you want doesn't mean i love you any less" and "just because you love me doesn't mean i feel loved by you"

naaaah because 90% of their problems will be solved if only they'll talk to each other

[strangersteddierthings]

In the 19 years Steve's lived in this house, never once has he slammed his front door like that. Too scared of his parents' wrath should it have caused any damage.

It feels good.

He almost turns around to do it again, a fuck you to his parents and every decision they ever forced on him, but then he remembers. They're all in there. Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, Robin. In his living room, making declarations and decisions about Steve's life for him. Or, well, one of them is.

Like his parents do. Did?

He didn't grab his keys, wallet, or even his coat, but he's not going back for them. It's cold, sure, but Steve's sure his anger will keep him warm until he reaches a destination. Any destination.

He just doesn't understand why- Why they keep doing this to him.

Why he keeps letting them.

No. No, that's a lie. He keeps letting them because he knows, deep down, he's not a fighter. Not for himself.

He'll put himself between the ones he loves and danger in a heartbeat; he's done that since the first time he watched a petal-faced monster peel its way out of the Byers' wall in '83.

But his parents trained the fight right out of him when it came to himself. It was easier to not argue, to just do what they wanted. They'd smile at him when he was good. They'd take him with on shorter business trips when he behaved. His mom would even allow a quick hug if he impressed a shareholder with how well-mannered and quiet he was.

He won their affections with obedience.

He's never- Nancy and he love each other now, but in the same way they all love each other after having survived the horrors the Upside Down. But Nancy never loved him the way he'd once loved her. That was bullshit.

Even Robin and Dustin. He knows they love him now. Will love him forever, going forward, but both had admitted to having a predetermined idea of who Steve was and what he was like and they weren't wrong but they also weren't right because Steve's never been Steve a goddamn day in his life.

Steve hadn't even known Steve until monsters came into his life.

The way everyone used to refer to him as the Steve Harrington was a judgement all its own. A thing that he was, and had no say to be otherwise.

Even Eddie, in the Upside Down, and now, in his own house.

Steve finally feels like he might be becoming who he really is and he's surrounded by friends and it just made him stupid. He'd thought it was confidence, when he pulled Eddie aside to talk, to confess, but then-

Eddie telling him he's confused. Like Steve is a child learning new concepts and not an adult who has been questioning how he feels about men since he first noticed other boys in middle school.

Eddie telling him, 'you don't want this, man. Not really.'

It's not fair.

Robin came out to him, and he'd just wanted to make her laugh so she would quit looking so scared. Eddie came out to him, and Steve had thanked him for trusting him. Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle confess to all dating each other and Steve congratulated them. But Steve comes out and gets told he's confused?

And Steve didn't even refute it. Just got so hurt he couldn't be there anymore. Left his own house because he'd told Eddie he had a crush on him, and asked if he'd like to go on a date sometime and Eddie said no and told him he was confused.

Eddie doesn't get to decide that for Steve! No one but himself can decide if he like guys or not. No one gets to tell him he's confused about what he's feeling.

It's- that's bullshit, is what it is!

Steve turns on his heel and marches back to his house. His hurt has fully morphed to anger now.

Steve hasn't run away from a fight since '83, and he's not going to start now.

He rips his front door open and is greeted to everyone just inside the door, in various states of putting their winter clothes back on. All the faces look concerned, but he scans for Eddie's.

Eddie who looks relieved for all of two seconds, when it seems to dawn on him that Steve is angry, and it's directed at him.

"The appropriate response," Steve growls as he steps through his door and punctuates those words by slamming it shut again. (It's not as satisfying this time, because he sees how it makes his friends jump.) He barrels on with his words, eyes never leaving Eddie, "when someone comes out to you, is to say 'thanks for telling me' or perhaps even 'thanks for trusting me' or, if one is so inclined, to just say 'cool, dude' but you don't get- you don't get to tell me I'm confused!"

Eddie takes a step back, knocking directly in Argyle, who steadies him, but he doesn't say anything.

Maybe Steve should be more calm about this, given the audience, but he's not able to stop the words now that they've started. "I'm not confused, and I know exactly what I'd be getting into. You don't get to- to try and make your rejection my fault. If you don't wanna date me, just say so. But you don't get to try and tell me how I feel about you!"

From the corner of his eye, he can see Nancy trying to subtly shift herself and Jonathan away from the door, probably to get out of what really should be a private conversation, but Jonathan's a bit preoccupied by catching Robin around the waist as she lunges towards Eddie.

"What the fuck did you say, Munson!" Robin growls, arms swinging out like she's going to claw Eddie to death.

Argyle has inched back a bit, putting distance between him and Eddie in case Robin breaks free. "You dudes should probably talk this out in private."

"Byers, if you don't let me go right now-"

"Robbie, I got this," Steve says, because Robin shouldn't be turning on Jonathan when he's done nothing wrong. Robin continues to glare at Eddie for a few seconds before she makes eyes contact with Steve. He raises his brows slight -I got this- and she furrows hers -are you sure?-, so he tilts his head -yes, really- and she deflates in Jonathan's arms and allows him to drag her away.

"We'll just be in the rec room," Nancy says, looping her arm through Argyles and following after Jonathan.

Eddie doesn't bolt, which is a bit more than Steve expected. They both just stare at each other until they hear the click of the rec room door.

"Steve-"

"That was fucked up, Eddie," Steve interrupts.

"Yeah. It was," Eddie says, but doesn't offer up more, even though Steve is waiting for an apology.

"That kind of reaction is exactly why I didn't come out sooner. What would be the fucking point if no one even believed me? Or worse, if you'd given me that kind of reaction like, six months ago, I probably never admit to liking guys out loud ever again. You can't just- you can't decide this kind of shit for other people!"

"I know! I- I freaked out, and panicked, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Steve," Eddie says, and he sounds sincere and looks almost fragile while saying it that Steve loses a bit of his steam. He doesn't want to just keep yelling at Eddie.

"Yeah. Well. Thanks for apologizing," Steve mutters, crossing his arms with a huff.

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he seems to gather all his courage and says, "have I fucked everything up between us?"

"No. Not- I'm going to, like, need some time to get over my crush, but no. It's- it'll just be take time-"

"No! I mean, I can't- if you don't, uh, like me like that anymore I get it, but I- what I meant was. Well. No, I guess that answered my question."

Steve is confused, now. For real, and not about his sexuality. "What?"

"What?"

"You did it again. Deciding for me if I liked you or not."

"Shit. Fuck! Sorry," Eddie drops his head into his hands and groans. "I'm fucking this up so bad."

"Than use, like, real, whole sentences and speak to me!"

"I like you!" Eddie blurts. "I have a crush on you, too, but I- I fucked it up!"

"Yeah. Kinda."

Eddie makes a really pathetic noise at that.

"Not so much we can't, like, figure it out, though," Steve offers. "Not, like, right now, because I'm hurt and angry, but like, I'm not going to stop liking you because of one fight. Not. Uh, not now that I know you like me, too."

"Oh," Eddie whispers, then frowns. "For real?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "I said it, didn't I?"

"Sorry, it's just, just good things don't happen to me. It's- I'm processing, okay."

Steve lets out a long-suffering sigh and heads towards the rec room. "If you want to leave to 'process' alone, I get it, but you're welcome to stay. We can get this party re-started and hang out."

Eddie's silent a moment, and Steve thinks he's going to ask if Steve's sure, but instead he gets a quiet, "yeah. I'd like to stay." and the sound of Eddie's footsteps following him to the rec room.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss