#veer taylors

[peterofthedrakes]

happy halloween! have some ocs. the one with glasses (veer) is mine and the redhead (god with a j) belongs to my friend @the-letter-s

they actually have way more of a height difference i just fucked with it a bit bc i wanted the pose to work ;-;

[backup-baby-backup]

I'm happy that Taylor finally remembered that If This Was A Movie exists, but the cynical side of me feels like she's using this opportunity to excise that song from Speak Now to make it a true self-written album.

[kidspawn]

It's important to note that Taylor has been vocal about not going to therapy herself. To quote her, "I just feel very sane." Which completely paints those who go to therapy in a negative light, imo. Especially coming from a woman who has capitalized on discussing her mental health issues in her music (i won't elaborate, but it's obvious she hasn't been in a good place.) Publicly denouncing therapy, then utilizing asylum imagery for an aesthetic is an absolutely disgusting practice imo.

And she does this - taking aesthetics and causes and colour schemes to promote her album, without actually being involved or personally invested in her aesthetic of the week. Prominently, her political aesthetic that got dropped once it no longer served her. She actively used gay rights and queer aesthetics to make sales.

It's a trend and a gross one at that. She uses these aesthetics without personal investments, which means she can drop them at any point with no consequence. It highlights ignorance and insensitivity.

I'm glad to see other people calling it out. As someone who has been hospitalized, I was actively revolted by that rollout. Comparing your breakup to a mental asylum and hospital is embarrassing, especially considering her public statements.

full on offense but asylums, psych wards and any other variation of mental health facilities are not and will never be an aesthetic. mental illness is not an aesthetic.

and yes, this is coming from someone who has been hospitalized several times, fully angry that a white billionaire can be her quirky silly i-need-a-lobotomy [insert a tiktok reference] self while simultaneously having access to every single health treatment in the world.

while the rest of the world struggles to have access to a diagnosis, medication or human rights pertaining mental health.

"you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me", no, taylor. YOU wouldn't last an hour in the real world, where private jets are only ever seen on television and mental illness often means you cannot get a fucking job.

[rodanseys]

just saw a photo of travis kelce and for the first time i was like yeah. i get it taylor. i absolutely understand

[frogs-in3-hills]

i think this is a really interesting comment for taylor to make considering she never actually had any personal experience with alec’s desire for revenge. iirc she was actually a little taken aback by the idea when aisha brought it up after he died, probably because she never fully understood his disaffectedness for what it was (an extreme trauma response). but over a year later this makes me feel like taylor sees aisha’s revenge against heartbreaker as solely alec’s, as opposed to something they were both invested in but that aisha had to take the burden of. the idea that aisha is “acting like regent” when she talks about revenge and not acting like herself i think is inaccurate, it’s just not a stance i would have expected from taylor necessarily. ig she really internalized aisha saying that he did want revenge, even though aisha is the one who did the revenging? did alec ever express that desire in front of taylor? if he did, i forgor ^_^;

[loveymontgomery]

what if all i need is you?

addison montgomery x reader

contains smut - about 1k words in

word count: 6740

a/n: veers away from the actual series - takes place right before (and into) the prom episode!! i wrote this in NOVEMBER LOL been hiding in the google docs 4ever. may be off continuity-wise (or some things may just be weird) but i was too busy thinking abt addie -- can u blame me?!?!?!?1//1?!

lyrics from taylor swift's "slut!"

Flamingo pink, sunrise boulevard

Clink clink, being this young is art

You and Dr. Montgomery had just left work together. The two of you were on-call the night before, and got off in the afternoon. She had been wearing her flamingo pink scrubs that night, looking beautiful as ever. Her hair was less curled than usual, fairly straight, with a slight inward curl at the end–how you liked it the most.

You’d gotten an Uber right after work, and took it downtown, where the two of you walked up and down streets (popping into stores occasionally), until dinner. You stopped in a small local place, which turned out to be much better than expected.

“We’ve got to come back here,” Dr. Montgomery said. 

“Absolutely, Dr. Montgomery,” you replied, a smile on your face.

“It’s Addison, to you. Surely, we’re on a first-name basis at this point.”

“Cheers, Addison,” you clink your glasses. “To this amazing dinner.”

Aquamarine, moonlit swimming pool

What if all I need is you?

After dinner, with the impending sunset, Addison called an Uber for the both of you. She took you back to the hotel she’d been staying at following her divorce from Derek Shepherd. She led you up to her room, telling you all about the different things the hotel had–a gym, obviously, billiards, a family and an adults only pool (with a hot tub), as well as a jacuzzi in her bathroom. Seeing your excitement at the jacuzzi, she suggested that the pair of you take a dive–she’d let you borrow one of her two swimsuits. 

After looking through her luggage, she handed you a black bikini. “You can change first,” she said. You stepped into the bathroom, only a few paces from where you were standing. Peeling off your pants, you noticed the size of the jacuzzi. It wasn’t large. Regardless of where you sat, you’d be in contact with Addison. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, and heat to your cheeks. You tried to shake it off, pulling off the rest of your clothes and putting on Addison’s bikini. As you glared in the mirror, you noticed how it fit you. It wasn’t skimpy, (Addison surely wouldn’t have offered it to you if it was) but you looked good. The lighting in the bathroom placed emphasis on your barely-there abs, and made you look much more toned than you truly were. 

Checking yourself out, you decided to pull your hair down from the messy bun it had been in during the day. You weren’t sure why, but you made sure that your hair looked perfect before you exited the bathroom. 

Addison stared at you in silence for a moment, checking you out. She seemed to snap out of it quickly, saying, “Sorry. Not used to seeing my bikini on someone else.” You noticed a red tint on her cheeks as she passed you to go into the bathroom, though. You sat on the bed, trying to keep your mind away from imagining Addison in a bikini, even though you’d see her in one in a few moments. You didn’t want to think about it–seeing her collarbone, her shoulders, her waist. God, you couldn’t even think about her legs without your face heating up. Which shouldn’t happen. You couldn’t be thinking about your friend–your coworker–like that.

She opened the door moments later, wearing a pink bikini. You took a mental note of that, Addison’s favorite color is pink, surprisingly. It was like you felt time stop when you saw her. She looked gorgeous, better than you could’ve ever imagined that anyone could. Her voice brought you back to reality.

“I turned on the jacuzzi. So…”

“Right,” you said, and followed her into the bathroom. She got into the bathroom with all the grace you could imagine. You tried to not get distracted, following her into the jacuzzi. You sat across from her, your knees touching. “Must be nice to come home to this,” you joked.

“Oh, yeah,” she smiled. “This thing has to be one of the best ways to unwind.”

“What are the other ways?” you asked, a slight bit of flirtation coming out. You didn’t even realize, not until you had already said it. 

“Can’t tell you all my secrets, can I?” Addison flirted back, brushing her knee along your leg. Hearing the ding of her cellphone, Addison reached to the counter behind you, where she’d placed her phone before you’d come into the bathroom. You held your breath at the close proximity. Her stomach was practically in your face, and it took nearly everything in you to not look up. She sighed when she looked at it, but quickly came back down to the jacuzzi, sitting next to you, instead of across from you. 

“Hi,” you said, taking a deep breath.

“Hi,” Addison replied, a sly smirk on her face.

“Who was that?”

“Oh, just Derek. Nothing important,” she said, ever-so-slightly moving closer to you. You felt her thigh against yours, and nearly went into cardiac arrest. It was a miracle that you weren’t hooked up to a heart monitor, because she surely would’ve caught on to the fact that you were practically dying from just being near her. Addison pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear. “Did I ever tell you how much I appreciate you?” 

“Uh… you might’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you said, quietly, as Addison started to get closer to you. 

“You make my life so much easier by just being in it,” she confessed, looking into your eyes. You swallowed thickly, your breath picking up. “Are you nervous?” Addison asked, picking up on the tenseness radiating from you. When you didn’t answer, she said, “Don’t be nervous. It’s just me.” Leaning forward, Addison placed a soft kiss on your lips. Your hands found their way into her hair, and Addison planted herself on top of your legs. Like something snapped, the kiss heated up, and you felt Addison’s hands running along your sides and then felt a hand along your thigh, and one in your hair. After a few moments, Addison pulled back, resting her forehead on yours. “Good?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Good,” you said. One of Addison’s hands found your neck, pressing on your pulse point.

“Relax, Y/N. I’m gonna have to take you back to the hospital.”

“If it means spending more time with you…” you trailed off, lightly joking. You glared into her eyes. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you,” she said, before returning to kiss you. Addison’s hips started to grind against nothing, which didn’t go unnoticed from you. Even though she wasn’t doing much to you–just the feeling of her thighs moving along yours was enough to drive you crazy. It didn’t get easier when she started to slip her tongue into your mouth. You moaned into her mouth, which really didn’t go unnoticed by Addison, as she ran her hand back up to your chest, feeling you up through the bikini she lent you. She pulled back slightly, “having fun?” she asked, while continuing to feel you up.

It took everything in you to not make a sound, which was very evident to Addison. “Mhm…” you hummed in response. 

“Oh, come on… Use your words,” Addison commanded lightly.

“Yes. Addison, I need-,” you started, cutting yourself off because of the pleasure that Addison was bringing you.

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

“You. Just… you. All I need is you,” you admitted, breathlessly. Addison’s confident exterior faded, seemingly affected by your statement. She practically lunged toward you, placing her lips on yours roughly. Her hands traveled up and down your back and sides quickly. She lightly pulled on the back of the bikini you were wearing before pulling apart to ask, 

“May I?”

You nodded, knowing your words would fail you. You pulled Addison back towards you, and it was now your turn to kiss her roughly. She made a noise of surprise before pulling the strings to your bikini, causing it to fall off completely. Taking her lips off of yours, she began to kiss down your jaw and onto your neck, where she sucked for a moment. Doing it with a doctor really was as good as you’d think. Addison knew all the spots. Moving down, past your neck, she placed light kisses along your collarbone and down onto one of your breasts. 

You couldn’t help the moan that came out of you. “Oh, Addie…” Addison pulled back, scanning your body.

“You’re so beautiful. Perfect,” she decided, bringing one of her hands to your breast. Lightly, she ran her thumb back-and-forth across your nipple, watching your reaction. She took note of your heavy breaths. “Feels good?” You nodded. “Just sensitive?” she questioned.

“Yeah, for you.”

“You’re gonna inflate my ego by saying things like that,” Addie warned.

“Things like what? The truth?”

“Shut up,” Addison said, going to kiss you again. She began to toy with your nipple, loving the way you squirmed under her. You couldn’t help the quiet moans that came out of your mouth. Her other hand found its way to your upper thigh, before she pulled apart again, “Can I-”

“Addison, you can do whatever you want to me,” you cut her off, pulling Addison’s face back to yours. Within seconds, you felt Addison’s hand sliding under your bikini bottom. You lifted your hips instinctively, giving her a better angle. When Addison felt how wet you were, the both of you moaned. When one of her fingers came up to your clit, you whined. 

“So, you’re really sensitive, huh?” she asked. 

“I already told you-”

“Don’t be ashamed, it’s hot,” Addison told you, slowly sliding one of her fingers inside you.

“Addie…”

“I love when you say my name,” she encouraged. She slowly started to move her finger in and out of you, watching your reactions like a hawk. She could see how riled up you were, how you were desperate. Desperate in need of her. “Babe, take a breath. Slow down.”

When you did take a breath, she kissed you lightly. “That’s my girl.” Addison fully intended to take care of you. This was not going to be quick, she was going to revel in the pleasure she gave you, and as much as she loved seeing your desperation for her, she didn’t want you to tire yourself out too quickly. Again, she placed light kisses on your neck, smiling when she heard you moan. Too focused on her finger inside you, you didn’t even realize when she started sucking on your neck. When she pulled back, she said, “oops.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll see later,” she said, smirking. Before you could respond, she pushed another finger inside you. 

“Oh, god, Addison,” you moaned, your head falling back. “This is… You’re making me feel so good.”

“Good. Relax for me,” she instructed. She brought herself back up to your face, beginning to make out with you again, while continuing to move her fingers in-and-out of you at a painfully slow pace, every-so-often brushing against your g-spot. Addison loved this; making you feel so good. It was like second nature. It was one of the best ways to unwind.

Eventually, Addison started to speed up her fingers, and your moans started to get louder and louder. She pulled back, wanting to watch how you squirmed because of her. “Addison,” you breathed. “Addi- Addison… oh my God.”

“Addie, please,” you begged. “Please, Addison, please.”

“You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart,” she encouraged. “Come on…” she muttered. She sped up a little bit more, biting her lip as she focused on making you feel good. It was a combination of seeing Addison biting her lip and her saying, “Come on, be a good girl for me,” that really sent you over the edge. You felt your whole body shake as you tried to slightly hold in your moans (the whole world didn’t need to hear you–only Addison). Your thighs practically crushed Addison’s hand as she helped you ride out your orgasm. Slowly, she pulled her fingers out of you, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

She moved back to sitting next to you, and wrapped one of her arms around you, pulling you close. You rested your head on her shoulder, trying to catch your breath. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, before Addison got out of the jacuzzi, and began to help you out. She cleaned you up and dried you with a towel, before leading you back to the bed. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching Addison wordlessly as she went to get you pajamas. She placed her Yale hoodie and a pair of sweatpants next to you. 

She went into the bathroom with her own pajamas, and you took that as your cue to put her clothes on. When she came back out of the bathroom, you smiled at each other. You’d never seen Addison in anything less than workplace-casual, and she looked adorable, to say the least. Her glasses only added to it–you loved her glasses. And Addison got a kick out of seeing you in her clothes. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked, standing in front of you, using one of her hands to guide your jaw, having you look up at her.

“How do you think?”

“Well, I’d hope amazing,” she said, walking to the other side of the bed, and getting under the covers. You followed her lead. You fell asleep quickly, almost as soon as the lights were off. And your dreams were filled with Addison, watching her from the observatory in the operating rooms, and watching as she looked over babies and talked to patients. When you woke, it was because Addison had ordered room service for the both of you, and she was talking to the delivery man. At first, you were confused, not even remembering having fallen asleep. But when you turned and saw Addison standing at the door with her back to you, it all made sense. She still had a little bit of bedhead, but it was adorable. 

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?” she asked when she’d turned back around and saw you staring at her with a smile.

“Maybe. I don’t mind.”

“I got breakfast,” she said nervously. She climbed back onto her bed, sitting crisscrossed next to you. Of course, you always knew Addison was kind. She was always a good friend, you’d thought, but you never imagined that she was listening to every word you were saying, which became clear when she’d gotten your favorite breakfast; something you mentioned months ago. You ate together, talking about meaningless things over breakfast. She told you about what Derek had texted her last night–asking her about one of their mutual friends back in New York. She told you about the brownstone and the house in the Hamptons. She told you about their odd neighbors.  

She asked what you would tell your friends when you went home, what story you would make up. The both of you knew that there was no way you could tell your coworkers about this. Even if she just told Derek, he’d have to tell Meredith, and then word would spread throughout the entire hospital before you even went back to work. You told her, “Oh, you know. I spent the night with a gorgeous man. Tall, red hair, slender hands,” you began. “And he got me breakfast, that’ll give ‘the guy’ brownie points.”

“Wow. I get brownie points?” Addison asked, laughing to herself.

“Whoa, whoa. The mystery man I’m telling my friends about gets brownie points.”

“Of course.” Addison smiled. You left Addie’s hotel room shortly after that, making sure you avoided Mark Sloan and Chief Webber as you left. She offered to let you borrow her Yale hoodie, so you didn’t have to wear your same outfit from yesterday, but you declined. It was too risky, someone at the house would’ve noticed. You left on good terms, though, or so you thought. 

Got love-struck, went straight to my head

Got lovesick all over my bed

The days following your night with Addison went by quickly, but torturously. You didn’t talk to Addison for four days, and you were honestly starting to think that Addison was avoiding you purposefully. You’d only caught sight of her a handful of times, but from afar. She was talking to Mark or arguing with Karev. You could even see Mark trying to flirt with her a few times, which would’ve sent you off-the-rails, if you weren’t trying to keep your feelings for Addison under wraps.

You weren’t doing a good job at hiding your feelings generally, though, because as soon as you got home you’d either lay facedown on the couch or immediately make a break for your bed, slamming the door behind you. Your friends knew something was up, but tried to wait it out, at first. 

On Thursday, you heard your friends whispering outside your door, until George lightly knocked on your door before barging in anyway. “Hey…” he said cautiously, as if you were a cat about to lash out at him. He sat on the edge of your bed lightly. “You okay?” You took a deep breath, which to George, was a warning. “Right, bad question… is this about the guy from the other day?” You groaned before sitting up. 

“It’s just like, how do we sleep together and then you completely don’t speak to me for days? Not one text, George, not one! Actually, we didn’t even really sleep together, he just fingered me and that was it! I would’ve gone further, he stopped it! Isn’t that weird? I mean, I would expect a text, at least. Like, tell me what went wrong or why you don’t want me anymore!”

“Well, maybe-”

“It would be better if I had just met him at a bar or something and it was a one-night-stand, never see you again, sort of thing. But I knew this guy! For a while! I’m gonna see him around at some point, he can’t just avoid me forever!” you continued to rant, cutting George off.

“You know, guys are-”

“It’s really just so dumb. Like you wanted me and initiated the whole thing and now you won’t even speak to me? It’s like, talk to me! You know?” You stared at George for a minute, expecting him to say something. “Say something!”

“I was expecting you to cut me off, again,” he said. “This is gonna sound horrible, but I think you’re just getting in your head about it all. I do the same thing. We should know better than anyone, though, that people have lives. We go weeks without texting people back.” You stared at him for a moment. He was right, even though you hated that fact. You just wanted Addison to want you, but the fact that she was avoiding you made you feel like it was just a one-night thing for her. It wasn’t, for you. For you, you realized that your friendship with Addison had always been a disguise. You always had feelings for Addison, how could you not have? And how could you not have realized that sooner?

You kept talking to George for a while. After some time, you were sure Meredith and Izzie weren’t listening anymore. It was hard talking to George, though, because everything had to be vague. You couldn’t reveal a thing about this man, unless it was a lie. It did help, though. You started to feel more like yourself. Addison was an adult, she’d talk to you at some point, and things would be sorted out. Surely.

Love to think you’ll never forget

Handprints in wet cement

The following day, you’d finally had a reason to talk to Addison. Dr. Bailey had asked you to deliver a file to her, and even though you would’ve rather had anyone else do it, Meredith was the only person nearby. It took a while of looking, but you’d finally managed to find Addison by the nurses’ station. Unfortunately, though, she was talking to Mark. You watched, trying to hide your utter rage, as Mark was clearly flirting with her, and she wasn’t pushing him aside. You walked up to the pair of them, clearing your throat. 

“Doctor Montgomery.” She hummed when she turned, not immediately realizing it was you. “This is from Doctor Bailey,” you said, your eyes darting between her and Mark. It was hard to read Addison, but looking in her eyes, you could’ve sworn you saw her trying to hide her guilt. 

But Mark… When you turned to leave, Mark said, “Leaving already? We were just starting to have fun!”

“Stop flirting with me, Mark,” you said, walking away quickly. You found an empty closet, and sat on the floor.

Adorned with smoke on my clothes

Lovelorn and nobody knows

Love thorns all over this rose

I’ll pay the price, you won’t

You were starting to feel crazy, really. How could months of friendship with Addison completely fall out of touch? You hadn’t initiated things with Addison, how were you to know that your romance would end any relationship you had had with Addison? After a few more days, the whole hospital knew you were upset. It wasn’t hard to find out—people just had to look at you. When you saw Doctor Burke in passing, even he said something about it. But nobody knew why. Well, that was a lie. People thought they knew why. They thought that it was because you were having guy problems. You were not having guy problems. 

It was your turn to avoid Addison, now. There wasn’t a chance that she hadn’t heard about what was going on with you, but you hoped she knew better than to think that it was about a guy. She was smart enough to know it was about her. 

To help, your friends tried to find someone else for you. They brought you to Joe’s, (keeping you away from the dartboard, and away from the drinks, they only let you have enough to let loose) and tried to set you up with every man they found. They were cute, you supposed. Their plan really wasn’t working out. They tried for a while, though, you had to give them that. Even Cristina seemed dedicated, though you saw her complain to Meredith often. You had a good enough time, until you were leaving. Alex had showed up at some point, and he took part in trying to get you laid. But once you had decided to leave, he said, “Oh, get over it, already! Let me show you a good time.”

You honestly could not believe him. You knew he was an asshole, obviously. But he’d seen you in pain for weeks, and still said something like that. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you shouted, turning and walking out the door before you could even see his reaction. That was new, from you. Even with Alex always being a douchebag, you’d never yelled at him. You called an Uber, and went home, blasting sad music in your headphones once you’d reached your bed. You don’t know when your friends got home, you didn’t see them until the morning. In the morning, you didn’t eat breakfast, and you barely said anything to your friends. They didn’t say much to each other, either. It was like your presence immediately ruined the mood. You yelled at Alex. Sure, you never yell, but it was Alex, you should be allowed to yell at Alex without Izzie acting like you’d kill her for speaking.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. How could going out with Addison after work one day lead to all this? This was Addison’s doing, and yet you were living your life in misery while her life stayed the same. You’d seen Addison in passing a few times, but only for work. You really didn’t even say hello. It was a week after you yelled at Alex that she paged you. 

Seeing Addison at first was fine. You were in your “work mode” and she was just Doctor Montgomery, not Addison. But when she told you to follow her, and she started to lead you to an on-call room, you started to get nervous. This wasn’t work. This was Addison. She locked the door behind you.

“Hey,” she said, clearly nervous, even for herself.

“Hey,” you said back. 

“I heard about what happened with Alex,” she grimaced. “I’m sure he deserved it.”

“When does he not?” you said, numbly. It pained Addison to see you like this. There wasn’t the slightest bit of you that was happy. She could see it in your eyes. “Is that all you heard?”

“No.”

“That’s great,” you said, as sarcastic as you could, even with how numb you felt. “Didn’t know you partake in the gossip.”

“I don’t, but people don’t shut up.”

“Right.” Addison took a step closer to you, your back against the door.

“Will you look at me, please?” you stayed looking anywhere but at Addison. You couldn’t do it. It would kill you. “You haven’t looked at me in weeks. Please, look at me.” Even with how upset you were, there was something in Addison’s voice, the genuine pleading, that you couldn’t deny. When your eyes met hers, you saw how glazed her eyes were. She wasn’t crying, but she nearly was. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” 

“Yes. I’m sorry. Of course, I’m sorry. Do you think I wanted to hurt you, really? Is that the impression I gave you?”

“Doctor Montgomery, you didn’t talk to me for weeks.”

“Doctor Montgomery? You’re calling me Doctor Montgomery?”

“Yes. I am.” You noticed Addison’s breath picking up. She took a step back, and ran a hand through her hair. You couldn’t remember a time where you’d seen her like this.

“I’m… I didn’t mean to do that,” she said. “God, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she continued, sitting on the bed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered, as if she was saying it to herself. You could see how hard it was to keep herself together. Once you realized that, you had a hard time keeping yourself together. 

“Addison…” she looked at you. “I don’t…” you began. “There’s a lot that I could say. So much that I could say. But… I just don’t want to do this anymore.” You started to slide down the door, and didn’t stop yourself. “I’m so tired, Addie. I can’t sleep, I can’t breathe. I can’t talk to people, or have people talk to me, and I’m tired of it.” You started to cry, and heard rustling before you felt Addison sitting next to you. You leaned into her. “Can we please stop this? Can we just start over? As friends, or… whatever you want. I just need this to be over.”

“Let me take you to the prom,” Addison said. 

“What?” you said. Surely, she did not say “the prom.”

“Didn’t you hear? Richard’s having a prom. Tomorrow.”

“Oh. No, I didn’t hear. Haven’t really been listening to people, recently.”

“Right…” 

“I’ll go with you,” you said. 

“Really?” Addison asked, a little over-excited, her voice higher than usual.

“Yeah,” you said, a small smile on your face. 

“I’ll pick you up at eight?” she suggested. 

“Sounds good, Addie.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead before standing, saying she had to go. You scooted over, letting her leave. You sat in the on-call room for a while, smiling to yourself. You figured that for the time being, you’d just tell everyone that the guy finally called, and you worked things out.

But if I’m all dressed up

They might as well be looking at us

And if they call me a “slut”

You know, it might be worth it for once

You had been ready half an hour early, pacing your room, making sure you looked okay. You decided on a baby pink gown (yes, Addison’s favorite color, on purpose) that tied up the back and had a slit. You hadn’t seen Izzie or Meredith yet, since they were busy getting themselves ready, but you had seen George, and he seemed stunned. He said that you looked great, and he would be surprised if you didn’t have men all-over you the entire night.

At 7:55, you were still pacing your room, but with your heels on, now. You heard the doorbell ring at exactly eight. And heard Izzie and George run to the door, you cursed yourself for not being down there already. 

“Doctor Montgomery!” You heard your friends say at the same time. 

“Nice see you, Doctor Stevens, O’Malley. I’m here for Y/N.”

You came down the stairs just in time to see their faces. They didn’t say anything though, just ran further into the house, probably to try to connect the dots. You left with Addison without a word. 

“I got you a corsage,” Addison said, while you were on the porch.

“You did? I didn’t even think about that, I’m sorry.”

“I invited you, thought it would be nice,” she said, sliding the corsage on your wrist. It was red, matching her dress. She looked beautiful. You could’ve stared at her for the whole night, instead of even going to the prom. When you arrived at the prom, you mingled around for a while, trying the punch and doing the photo booth that the hospital had somehow acquired. In one of the pictures, Addison kissed your cheek. You tucked the photostrips into your purse, making a note to give Addison her’s later.

Although you were trying to focus on Addison, and not the people around you, you noticed that it seemed like people hadn’t caught on, yet. People glanced at you occasionally, but it seemed as though that was because you were no longer moody. You and Addison talked about your high school prom experiences. She told you about how she was a band geek, and you told her about how you had a lot of friends. “You were a popular girl?” she questioned, humored.

“I wasn’t a popular girl, I just had a lot of friends!”

“You were a popular girl. That makes so much sense.”

“It’s like social situations come so easy to you. You’re perfect at them. It’s like you always know what to say. You’re so good with patients and their families.”

“Thank you,” you said, taking the compliment whole-heartedly. “I was not a popular girl.” 

“Mhm.” Addison smiled at you. The DJ started to play something slow. “Dance with me?” You took Addison’s hand, and she led you towards the dance floor. You stayed near the edge, trying to keep yourself out of the spotlight, but you could tell people were looking anyway. You saw Izzie and George in your periphery, and even Derek and Meredith had stopped dancing to look at you, jaws dropped. You saw Alex looking on from afar, a soft smile on his face. He’d gotten over you yelling at him, and understood the line he crossed (he wasn’t going to apologize). You loved dancing with Addison. Neither of you were dancers, by any means, but it was nice to have her hands on you, especially after being away from her for so long.

When the song was over, she led you away from the prom, and you found an empty room. “I didn’t want people staring at us anymore,” she said. You took steps towards her as she spoke. 

“Yeah,” you said, staring at her lips.

“You look beautiful,” Addison said, looking you up and down.

“So do you, Addie.” You took another step towards her, your voice lower than usual.

“You like the red? I wasn’t sure about it.” As soon as she finished her sentence, you pulled her close to you, pressing your lips onto hers. It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t soft. You couldn’t help it anymore. She looked hot, and it was making you feel hot. Addison was a little taken aback at first, but quickly began to reciprocate your kisses. Your hands found her hips, and she whimpered into your mouth. Addie turned the two of you around, pressing you against the examination table, and telling you to jump between kisses. You jumped onto the table, Addison hiking up your dress and standing between your legs. She pulled on the strings to the back of your dress, letting you slightly loose. Addison’s hand gently found its way to your core, lightly rubbing against it. She was giving you the friction you desperately needed. You were ready to let Addison do whatever she wanted to you, until you heard the door open. 

You stopped kissing quickly, turning your heads to see Derek. He was standing with his mouth agape. Clearly, not expecting what he saw. Who’s to blame him? Seeing your ex-wife kissing your girlfriend’s roommate had to be shocking. “Derek, you’re gonna start drooling,” Addison said, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry,” he said. “Sorry.” He left quickly, shutting the door behind him. You could see him stand outside of the room for a moment though, surely short-circuiting. When you looked back at Addison, you knew the two of you had to get out of there. She looked hot, too hot, but she also  looked like she had just been making out. You must’ve looked like that too. As you left, you started to lose the worry of judgment. Who cares if you’re with Addison? What does it matter if anyone cares, if you had Addie?

The short ride back to your house was fairly silent, but comfortable. 

And if I’m gonna be drunk

I might as well be drunk in love

When you got back to the house, you and Addison shared a glass of wine before heading to your room. 

“I need you to know that I wasn’t trying to avoid you.”

“I know.”

“But… I need you to really know that. I mean it. I’ve never done this before,” Addison began. “I really want this, though. I really want you. You’ve been my best friend, but I can’t look at you and not think about how perfect you are, and how I just want to make you happy.”

“Okay,” you said.

“You get it?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“So, we’re starting over?” Addison asked.

“Yeah, we can start over,” you confirmed.

“Okay. I’ll be better this time.”

“I know, Addie.”

“Can I spend the night?” You smiled at the thought.

“If you want to? Derek is probably gonna be around. These walls are kinda thin.” you warned. It would surely be weird for Addison to hear her ex-husband getting it on with another woman.

“That’s okay. Thin walls go both ways,” Addison said, smirking. Of course, she’d be up to something. “Do you wanna shower?” 

“We are not doing it in the shower. I’m too clumsy.”

“Oh, I know.”

“So, you wanna have a PG-13 shower with me?”

“I am actually interested in you for more than sex. Yes, I would love to shower with you.”

The two of you exited the bathroom just in time to see Derek and Meredith walking to her room. You stood in shock for a moment, but laughed it off. As soon as you and Addison reached your room, she shut the door behind you, locking it, and immediately dropped her towel, pressing her face to yours. You slid your hands along her sides before dropping your own towel. Addison pulled away from you, commanding you to, “get on the bed.” You did as she said, and felt your face heat up when she ended up on top of you, kissing you for a few moments before her mouth found its way to your neck. You couldn’t help your moans, but tried to keep them quiet. Addison laughed to herself.

“Something funny?”

“Just love seeing how I make you feel, babe,” Addison said, causing your legs to tense. She began to kiss down your chest, to your stomach, and to your upper thighs. When she pressed the first kiss to your thigh, you twitched. God, Addison was gonna be the death of you. Addison pressed soft kisses back up your thighs, finding herself at your core. She licked a long stripe up your folds slowly. You moaned loudly. You did not expect this tonight.

“Addie, oh my God,” you whined as she started to pick up her pace, getting more comfortable with her movements. Your legs started to tremble, and you knew it was only a matter of minutes before Addison sent you over the edge. “Addison… Addie, you’re so good at that. Just like that.” Addison continued her pursuit, exactly how you wanted it. “Oh, please don’t stop. Please, Addie, please, don’t stop… Oh my God!” With a few more seconds, your thighs tightened around Addison’s head. Your whole body trembled, and while working you through your orgasm, Addison watched you.

“That was so hot, baby,” she said, clearly turned on. 

After taking a moment to breathe, you said, “Addison, please lay down.” She did as you asked, and you began to press kisses to her neck. “I’m giving you a hickey. Payback.” She moaned quietly in response. You’d only given her a small hickey, she could cover it easily, if she wanted to. Post-hickey, you worked your way down to her chest, lightly sucking on her breast. Addison’s moans became more frequent, and it was music to your ears. You would give anything to hear that for the rest of your life. While your mouth was busy with Addison’s chest, one of your hands found its way between her legs. You began by slowly rubbing her clit, gaining a fairly loud moan out of Addie, and then pressing a finger of yours inside her once she seemed prepared. You pulled back from her chest in that moment, wanting to see her reaction.

She threw her head back, closing her eyes, and moaning constantly as you slowly moved your finger in and out of her. “Look at me, Addie.” She opened her eyes lightly, heavy with desire. ‘So pretty, Addison. You’re so perfect for me.” You slid another finger in her, which was easy considering how wet she’d become. 

“Y/N,” she moaned. “I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop,” she said. A few moments later, and she was coming undone on your hand. You were honored. How could you not be, having brought this much pleasure to such a perfect woman. She shook intensely. Her chest rising and falling quickly, as she tried to catch her breath. “That was…” she trailed off. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m not done with you, though. Lay down.”

You two laid down for a few moments, as Addison tried to regain her composure. Once she did, she was practically full energy as her hands found their way to your core. “Addie…” you moaned quietly.

“Yes, baby?” she asked, as she slid two fingers inside you.

“Oh, fuck. I’m not gonna last, Addie.”

“I know,” she replied, a smirk on her face as she worked her fingers in and out of you. She began to move her fingers inside you quickly, pressing against your g-spot over-and-over. She had you exactly how she wanted you to in mere seconds. 

“Addison,” you warned between heavy breaths. “Addison, please. Addie… Addie, I’m gonna cum for you.”

“Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum for me,” her words sent you over the edge for the second time that night. When Addison pulled her fingers out of you, she laid next to you, the both of you tired out for the night. She wiped her fingers on a tissue, before helping you under the covers.

“Did you plan on that happening?” you asked her. At the beginning of the night, you hadn’t even considered having sex with Addison.

“Not really, but it is prom night, after all,” she said, pulling you into her arms. “Get some rest, sweetheart,” Addison said. She was warm, and being in her arms felt amazing. Your mind wanted to go a hundred miles a minute, thinking about everything that just happened. You told yourself you would think about it tomorrow, whenever you weren’t busy answering the questions from your friends. Sleep came first. Especially if Addison told you so.

[fanficlolsblog]

WE NEVER GO OUT OF STYLE

back to my main masterlist

pairing: fem!reader x sabrina carpenter

summary: y/n is caught in a complicated relationship with singer sabrina carpenter, who picks her up for a late-night drive. despite knowing their connection often leads to heartbreak, y/n can’t resist sabrina's allure. they share a passionate encounter, but y/n realizes they're stuck in a cycle of returning to each other. after their intense moment, y/n chooses to leave, aware that they will likely reunite again despite the pain.

warnings: toxic relationship dynamic, emotional manipulation, jealousy and heartbreak, light suggestive themes, intense romantic situations, mature themes.

w/c: 1.5k+

The clock on my phone reads midnight when I see her car pull up. No headlights, just like always. It’s been a while since I’ve heard from her, but the second I see that familiar car in front of my house, it’s like no time has passed at all. The low hum of the engine fills the quiet street, and I feel that familiar pull in my chest.

Sabrina Carpenter.

I shouldn’t be doing this. I know exactly where it leads. It’s like we’re caught in this endless loop, spinning around each other with no clear destination in sight. But I can’t help it. Every time she shows up, I’m right back there—right back to her.

I grab my jacket, throw on some shoes, and slip out the door as quietly as I can, my heart pounding in my chest. My hands are shaking as I climb into the passenger seat, and the second I’m in, she looks at me with that James Dean daydream look in her eyes.

"Sabrina," I whisper, her name falling off my lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

She doesn’t say anything. Just smirks, her lips curling up at the corners as she pushes her foot on the gas. The car lurches forward, and we’re off into the night, the wind whipping past the open windows. There’s something intoxicating about the way she drives—reckless, dangerous, like she’s tempting fate. And I can’t help but feel the same.

It’s always like this with her. This wild, untamed energy that pulls me in no matter how much I try to resist. I should tell her to leave, to stop showing up like this, to stop playing with my heart. But I can’t. Because deep down, I know I’ll always say yes.

She glances over at me, her long hair slicked back, her white T-shirt glowing in the faint moonlight. "You’ve been quiet," she says, her voice low, barely audible over the sound of the engine.

"It’s been a while," I murmur, my hands clutching my lap. I’ve missed her more than I’d ever admit, and I can feel that weight in my chest growing heavier with every second we’re together.

"Yeah," she replies, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Like she hasn’t spent the last few months drifting in and out of my life, pulling me close only to push me away when things get too real.

We don’t talk much as she drives. The silence between us is thick with unsaid things, with all the questions I’m too scared to ask. And then, suddenly, she takes a sharp turn, and I feel my stomach lurch as the car veers down a narrow road.

The road stretches on, twisting and turning through the darkness, and I can feel the tension building between us with every mile. It’s like we’re heading toward something—something inevitable. And I know that when we get there, it’ll either be paradise or it’ll burn us both to the ground.

The car comes to a stop in front of her place, and she doesn’t waste any time. She gets out, tossing her keys into her bag before disappearing inside, leaving the door open for me. I hesitate for a moment, my mind racing. I shouldn’t go in. I should just turn around, walk away, and let this be the end.

But I don’t.

I follow her inside, the warmth of her place wrapping around me like a blanket. She tosses her coat aside and turns to face me, her eyes dark, intense.

"I heard you’ve been out with someone else," I blurt out, the words spilling from my mouth before I can stop them.

She doesn’t deny it. Instead, she smirks, shrugging like it’s nothing. "What you heard is true."

My chest tightens at her words, the sting of jealousy cutting deep. I knew it. I always knew she wasn’t mine. Not really. But hearing it out loud, it still hurts.

"But I can’t stop thinking about you," she continues, her voice soft, almost apologetic. "You and I… we’re different."

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "I’ve been there too, Sabrina. A few times."

She steps closer, her fingers brushing against my arm, sending a shiver down my spine. "So why are we still here?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

And that’s the question, isn’t it? Why do we keep doing this? Why do we keep coming back to each other, even when we know it’s bound to crash and burn?

Because it’s like a drug. She’s like a drug. And no matter how much it hurts, no matter how many times we tear each other apart, I can’t quit her.

She kisses me, and suddenly, all the questions, all the doubts—they disappear. It’s like everything that’s been building between us finally explodes, and all I can feel is her. Her hands gripping my waist, pulling me closer, her lips moving against mine with an urgency that makes my heart race.

She leads me to the couch, and before I know it, I’m beneath her, her body pressed against mine as her hands slide under my shirt. My breath hitches as her lips move down my neck, and I feel that familiar rush of adrenaline, the one that always comes with her.

It’s wild. It’s reckless. It’s exactly what I knew it would be.

And yet, I can’t get enough.

Her touch is electric, igniting every nerve in my body as she whispers my name against my skin, her voice low, filled with that familiar mix of desire and danger. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and she knows exactly how much I want it.

But this is how it always goes. We crash into each other, all heat and fire, and then we pull away, leaving nothing but ash in our wake.

When it’s over, we’re both breathing hard, tangled in each other, and I can feel the weight of everything pressing down on me. I know what comes next. She’ll pull away. She always does.

And yet, as I lie there, my head resting on her chest, I can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

"I don’t know why I keep doing this," I whisper, more to myself than to her.

She’s silent for a moment, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on my arm. "Because you know we never go out of style," she says, a small smile tugging at her lips.

I laugh, even though I don’t really feel like laughing. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

She shrugs, her smile fading as she looks at me, her expression suddenly serious. "You’re not like the others."

I raise an eyebrow, not sure if I believe her. "Really? Because it sure feels like I am."

"You’re not," she insists, sitting up and looking me in the eye. "It’s different with you. It always has been."

I don’t know if I believe her. I want to. God, I want to so badly. But every time we do this, it feels like it’s just another round of the same game.

"You don’t have to say that," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.

She reaches out, cupping my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her. "I’m not saying it because I have to. I’m saying it because it’s true."

I close my eyes, leaning into her touch, trying to hold onto this moment for as long as I can. Because I know, deep down, that it won’t last. It never does.

But for now, I’ll take what I can get.

We sit there in silence for a while, the weight of everything hanging between us. Eventually, she pulls away, standing up and walking over to the window, staring out into the night.

"I wish I could give you more," she says softly, her voice filled with regret.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah. Me too."

She turns to face me, her eyes filled with something I can’t quite place. "But you know… we always come back."

I nod, because she’s right. We do. No matter how many times we crash, no matter how many times we burn, we always come back to each other.

And maybe that’s just how it’s meant to be.

"I should go," I say, standing up and grabbing my jacket.

She watches me, her expression unreadable. "You don’t have to."

I pause, my hand on the door handle, debating whether or not to stay. But I know how this ends. It always ends the same way.

"I do," I reply softly, giving her a small, sad smile.

She doesn’t try to stop me, and I don’t expect her to. As I step out into the cool night air, I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

It’s over. For now, at least.

But as I walk down the street, her words echo in my mind.

We always come back.

And I know, deep down, that it’s only a matter of time before we crash again.

[peterofthedrakes]

would you take a bite?

these are some ocs from a vtm campaign im in, veer (glasses) and sawyer (other girl) are mine, and god (pronounced jod, biting lemons) belongs to @the-letter-s

[the-winter-spider]

The Archer | Steve Harrington

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Angst, fluff.

A/N: Found this in my drafts loo enjoy

----

You’ve never been the kind of person people stay for.

Your parents taught you that early on, love is temporary, conditional, fleeting. Your father left when you were nine. Your mother stayed, but she never really wanted to. She was always looking for an out, always halfway gone. You liked it better that way at first being alone, not truly having anyone so when they left it didn’t hurt as much, it was just another no one coming in and out of your lives. You learned that people only stick around until they find something better.

So you made sure to never need anyone. You let people in just enough to keep them close, but not enough for them to see you. You laughed when you were supposed to, played the part of the girl who was fine, always fine, even when you weren’t.

Because if you let people see what’s underneath, if you let them know how broken you really are, they leave and that’s why Steve Harrington is the worst thing that ever happened to you.

Because he sees you, even when you try to hide, even when you deflect and brush him off, even when you keep him at arm’s length…he still sees you.

And y’know what's worse? He stays. You don’t know what to do with that, because Steve is not supposed to stay. No one ever does and that’s why you don’t let yourself believe this could be real.

Because if you do? If you let yourself reach for him, if you let yourself want him the way you already do….you might lose the only person who’s ever tried to love you anyway.

Steve doesn’t know when he started noticing you like that.

You were always there. First in the way all Hawkins kids inevitably are, crossing paths in school hallways and at parties. Then through Nancy, through Jonathan, through all the bullshit with the Upside Down. You weren’t just another face in the crowd. You were watching, always sharp-edged, always standing on the outside like you were waiting for something to go wrong. Because well everything always did. But Starcourt happened and after that, you stopped just watching.

But no matter how close you got, there was always a wall.

That stupid, beautiful, impenetrable wall.

Steve tried to climb it. He tried again and again, reaching, pushing, pressing against the cracks, but you never let him in and man, it was frustrating because he knew you were holding something back.

It was in the way your eyes flickered when conversations veered too close to the truth. The way your laugh got a little too loud when someone asked how you were doing. The way you kept people just close enough to feel real but never close enough to matter.

Steve didn’t know why he kept trying, maybe because he saw himself in you. Maybe because he knew what it was like to be left behind, maybe because he cared more for you then he ever intended, maybe it was because his feelings for you were overwhelming and that was the problem. Because the more he cared, the more you pulled away.

You were right there but you weren’t, something just out of reach. Something like fear in your eyes whenever the conversation got too real, whenever Steve tried to lean in past whatever self-protective armor you had wrapped so tightly around yourself.

It’s late when he finally calls you out on it. Robin and Dustin had already passed out on the couch, snoring softly under a tangle of blankets. The TV flickers in the background, playing some terrible late-night infomercial neither of you are paying attention to.

You’re in the kitchen, sitting on the counter, legs dangling, spinning a spoon absently between your fingers. Steve is standing across from you, arms crossed, leaning against the fridge like he’s working up to something.

He exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You glance up at him, startled by the sudden weight in his voice. You try to play it off with a small, teasing smirk. “I do talk to you.”

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Not about the things that matter.”

Something flickers across your face, too fast for him to catch, but not fast enough to completely hide.

“Not everything has to matter, Steve.”

He watches you for a second, really watches you, and it frustrates the hell out of him, the way you do this. The way you let him in just enough to keep him close, but never enough to let him have you.

“Yeah, it kinda does.”

Your fingers are still against the metal spoon. “Why?”

Steve lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “Because I feel like I’m talking to a version of you that only exists on the surface. Like there’s this whole other part of you, and I’m just—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanna know you for real.”

Your stomach twists. “You do know me.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. He takes a slow step forward, voice softer now, more careful. “Do I?”

You swallow, shifting uncomfortably. “Why are you pushing this?”

“Because I—” He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face, suddenly looking so fucking tired. “Because I care, okay? Because I keep trying to get close to you, and every time I do, it’s like you—”

He stops himself, shaking his head.

You feel something in your chest tighten, something sharp and dangerous.

“Like I what?” you challenge, voice quieter now.

Steve meets your gaze, and for the first time in a long time, you can’t read him. “Like you’re afraid of letting me in.”

The air between you goes thick and still. Your fingers tighten around the spoon, the metal cold against your skin. You should say something, laugh it off, shrug..change the subject, run.

But you don’t, you don’t know how.

Steve watches you, waiting, hoping you’ll finally let him in.

You take a breath, force a smirk, flick the spoon between your fingers. Deflect, deflect, deflect. “And here I thought you just liked the chase, Harrington.”

His face falls. Disappointment flickers through his eyes, just for a second before he masks it with a sigh. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend this is some kind of game.”

Your stomach twists violently.

“Steve—”

“Forget it.” His voice is tired now, frustrated, resigned. He pushes off the fridge, shaking his head. “You’re not gonna let me in. You never do, it doesn't matter.”

You watch him walk away, and for one fleeting second, you almost call him back. But then the moment is gone and so is he.

---

It happened in small moments. All the almosts. Little cracks in the armor, fleeting glimpses of something real before you slammed the door shut again.

Like the time you were sitting in his car after a shift at Family Video, both of you were too lazy to go inside. You had the windows rolled down, music playing low, the humid summer air wrapping around you like a second skin.

“You ever feel like this town is just… waiting to swallow you whole?” Steve asked, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

You had gone still. Not laughing it off, not dodging. Just silent.

“Yeah,” you had murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Steve had turned to look at you. “Yeah?” he echoed, like he wasn’t expecting you to agree.

You hesitated and for just a second, he saw something in your eyes. Something unguarded, raw, real. But then you blinked, shook your head, and it was gone.

“Never mind,” you had said quickly, forcing a smirk. “I think that was just your deep poetic soul talking, Harrington.”

He sighed, tilting his head back against the seat. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”

“And yet, you still hang out with me.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I do.”

Or the time you had been walking back from the arcade with Max, Steve trailing behind.

It had been one of those perfect summer nights, warm but not suffocating, the cicadas humming in the distance. Max had been rambling about some stupid bet she had with Lucas, and you had been laughing, head tilted back, eyes bright in the glow of the streetlights.

And Steve, well he had been watching you something he found himself doing for a while now. Noticing the way you seemed lighter when you weren’t thinking too hard. The way you let yourself exist without overanalyzing it.

He had leaned in, bumped his shoulder against yours, and said, “You should let yourself be happy more often.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he saw it. The way you stiffened. The way your smile faltered, the way your fingers curled into fists at your sides. He didn’t mean it the way he realized after how it sounded, he meant it like you should smile more. It was the more beautiful thing he ever saw, and that you should laugh more because man, it was music to his ears.

“I am happy.”

Steve stopped walking. “No, you’re not.”

You turned to face him, eyes dark and guarded. “What the hell do you know about it?”

“I see you.” The air between you had stretched thin, tight as a wire. Max had awkwardly cleared her throat, clearly wanting to be anywhere else.

“You don’t see shit, Harrington,” you had muttered before walking ahead.

Steve let you go.

But then came the night you slipped and this time you couldn’t take it back, it was real, too real.

It had been a rough day. Too much Hawkins, too much silence, too much weight pressing down on your ribs. You had snapped at Robin, ignored Dustin’s calls, spent the whole day pretending you were fine until it nearly cracked you in half.

So you did what you always did, you went to Steve. Not because you meant to talk but because he made it easy to exist.

Steve never asked for more than you were willing to give or at least you thought he didn’t.

You had climbed into his passenger seat without a word, legs pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped around yourself.

Steve didn’t ask why you were there, he just drove.

Out of Hawkins, past the flickering streetlights, past the places that felt too full of memories. He parked at some random spot near the woods, turned off the car, and just waited.

You could feel him watching you, could feel him waiting for you to speak and for a while, you didn’t.

Then you did. “I don’t think I know how to be loved.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, the second they left your mouth, your breath caught in your throat, panic clawing up your ribs. Shit. Shit. You weren’t supposed to say that.

Steve, who had gone completely still.

Steve, whose face didn’t change, whose hands didn’t move, whose voice didn’t tremble when he said, “Why would you think that?”

You had shaken your head quickly, fingers curling into your sleeves. “I…forget it. I didn’t mean—”

“Hey.” His voice was gentle but firm.

Steve reached out, carefully….slowly. Giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t, his fingers found yours, warm and steady, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“You don’t have to know how,” he murmured. “You just have to let someone try.” His fingers softly rubbed your hand. “And believe me someone will.”

That was the moment you realized he wasn’t going to leave, that Steve Harrington had been choosing you this whole time and maybe you could choose him back.

---

The sun is setting by the time Steve pulls the car into the gravel lot at the park. The air is thick with summer heat, the smell of grass and pavement still warm from the afternoon.

Robin is complaining loudly about having to be here, Dustin is talking way too fast, Max is rolling her eyes at something Lucas said, and you… you’re laughing. Like, really laughing, Steve’s known you long enough to know the difference.

There’s the laugh you use when someone expects it from you, quick, practiced, sharp at the edges like you don’t actually feel it.

There’s the one you use when you’re dodging something, louder than necessary, exaggerated, filling in the gaps so no one realizes you’re avoiding something real.

And then there’s this one, light, unrestrained..real.

You’re on the swings with El, kicking your feet, trying to get higher, grinning over at her like you’re daring her to catch up. Max is watching, smirking, shouting something about how she can go higher than both of you. Dustin and Lucas are arguing about whether this counts as a real competition.

Steve leans against the car, arms crossed, watching you.

Robin nudges his side. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not..” He stops, scowling when she raises an eyebrow. “Shut up.”

Robin snorts, looking at you again. You’re still laughing, still smiling, still unguarded in a way you never are. “You should tell her, you know.”

“Tell her what?”

Robin scoffs, shoving his shoulder. “That you’re in love with her, dumbass.”

Steve rolls his eyes, muttering something about how she’s so annoying, but he doesn’t actually deny it.

Because, yeah…maybe he is.

It happens fast. One second, you’re happy.

Genuine, effortless, real.

Then something shifts.

Steve doesn’t know what triggers it. Maybe it’s the way the sun catches on the trees just right, and the shadows look off. Maybe it’s the sound of the cicadas humming in the background. Maybe it’s nothing at all.

But he sees it, because you're all he sees. Your laughter falters. The way your eyes flicker with something heavy, distant, haunted.

The way your shoulders tense, like you’re suddenly remembering where you are, who you are, what you’ve been through.

It’s gone almost instantly. Your mask snaps back into place, and you’re smiling again, laughing again, playing along like nothing happened.

But Steve sees it, he sees all of it. That’s when it happens. That’s when he realizes he’s in love with you, truly in love with you. Because he doesn’t just love the version of you that you let everyone see.

He doesn’t just love the girl who makes fun of him, teases him, kicks his feet off counters.

He loves the whole thing.

The girl who smiles like she means it but sometimes doesn’t.

The girl who holds everything so tightly inside herself because she’s too scared to let anyone else carry the weight.

The girl who is so good at pretending she’s okay, she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it anymore.

“You good?” Steve’s voice is soft, meant just for you.

You blink at him, startled, like you weren’t expecting anyone to notice, like you weren’t expecting him to notice.

That kills him a little because he's done nothing but show you he sees you, he notices you.

But instead of answering, you plaster on that same damn smirk and say, “You worried about me, Steve?”

Steve, he doesn’t buy it. Not even a little. But he lets you have it. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just don’t go falling off that swing and breaking something, okay?”

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitches, just slightly.

Steve just knows. That someday, he’s going to get past those walls. Someday, you’re going to let him in and when you do? He’ll be right there. He’ll always be here.

----

It’s late. Too late for someone to be knocking on his door.

Steve is already awake, though. He hadn’t fallen asleep, not really. He had just been lying there, staring at the ceiling, stuck in that awful in-between place where his body was exhausted but his mind wouldn’t shut off.

He wasn’t expecting anyone. But the second he hears the knock, sharp, urgent, desperate his heart kicks up.

Because what if it’s one of the kids? What if it’s Dustin? Max? Lucas? What if something happened? What if it's back? What if it's something worse?

He yanks the door open without thinking and it’s you.

Standing there, arms wrapped around yourself, tears streaked down your face, chest rising and falling like you ran all the way here.

Steve feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest. “Jesus, what happened?” His voice is urgent, rough, and panicked.

You just shake your head, breathing uneven. “I—” Your voice catches, like you can’t get the words out, like if you say them, they’ll be real.

“Hey, hey, come here.” Steve doesn’t even hesitate.

He grabs you, yanks you inside, pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms tight around you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on hard enough.

You collapse into him, fists gripping the fabric of his t-shirt, burying your face into his shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Steve murmurs, his lips against your hair, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles against your back. “I’ve got you. Whatever it is, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

You shake your head against him, breath hitching. “I, I had this dream, and it felt so real—”

Steve stills. “What kind of dream?”

You swallow hard. Your whole body trembles. “You were gone, y-you died and it got you, I just it was so real..”

Steve feels something deep in his chest fracture. You grip him tighter, like you need to physically make sure he’s here, that he’s solid, that he’s real.

“You were just..” Your voice shakes. “I don’t know, I just, I woke up and I couldn’t breathe, and I had this awful feeling and I had to make sure—” You stop, your voice breaks. “I just had to see you.”

Steve doesn’t say anything.

He just pulls you even closer. “I’m here.” His voice is softer now, steadier, full of something heavy and unspoken. “I’m right here and I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

You nod against him, but you still don’t let go. So neither does he, he never wants to let go of you again.

Because if this is what you need to be held, to be grounded, to be reminded that he’s not going anywhere then Steve will hold you all night. He would hold you for the rest of his life if you’d let him.

---

It starts small, something stupid, insignificant, something that shouldn’t even matter.

You don’t even remember what sets it off. Maybe it’s the way Steve keeps pushing, keeps asking, keeps trying to dig past the walls you’ve spent years perfecting.

Maybe it’s the way you deflect, dodge, pretend you don’t care when you care so fucking much it’s suffocating.

Maybe it’s all of it. But suddenly, you’re both yelling.

Loud, sharp, raw.

Like neither of you can stop. Like this isn’t just about this moment it’s about everything you’ve both been avoiding.

“Why do you do this?” Steve demands, running a hand through his hair, pacing like he physically can’t stand still.

“Do what, Steve?” Your voice is sharp, your chest heaving.

“Act like none of this fucking matters!” He whirls on you, eyes burning, voice full of something angry and desperate. “Like I don’t fucking matter!”

Your stomach twists. “I never said that!”

“You don’t have to!” Steve throws his arms out, exhaling hard. “You just keep running, keep pushing me away every time I try to get close to you!”

“I’m not running!”

“Bullshit!”

Silence.

The word hangs in the air, thick and heavy and undeniable. Your fingers curl into fists, your chest aches.

“Why do you even care?” you snap, voice shaking now, uneven. “Why the fuck do you keep trying to fix me, Steve? Huh! I didn’t ask for this, I-I didnt ask to be fixed!”

Steve stares at you, breathing hard, shaking his head like he can’t fucking believe you just said that. “Because I fucking love you, that’s why!”

The words explode into the space between you, loud and sharp and so, so real.

Your breath haults.

You don’t move.

You don’t speak.

Because this is what you were afraid of. Because if he loves you, if he really fucking loves you, then that means he can leave and take everything you have left with him when he does.

Steve, he sees the way your face crumples for just a second before you shove it all down again. He sees all of it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, shaking his head, “that’s what I thought.”

He turns away and for the first time he’s the one walking away from you.

----

You don’t know what breaks first.

Maybe it’s the silence. The unbearable weight of it, the nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering why the hell you keep doing this, to yourself, to him, to both of you.

Maybe it’s the fight. The way Steve walked away from you, the way his voice cracked when he told you he loved you, the way you let him go anyway or maybe it’s just everything.

All of it. The exhaustion, the longing, the fear. The realization that you’re ruining this. That you’ve spent so much time pushing Steve away that you never stopped to think about what would happen if he actually left and you can’t do it anymore. Because you don’t want him to leave, you want him to stay. You finally want someone to stay, not just anyone but Steve Harrington.

Fuck this.

You grab your jacket. Your hands are shaking as you shove your feet into your shoes. You don’t even think, you just move.

You need to tell him. Now.

Before you lose your nerve. Before you talk yourself out of it. Before it’s too late.

You step out into the cool night air, heart pounding. The streetlights cast long shadows along the pavement, stretching toward Steve’s house, toward him.

That’s when you see him…walking, laughing.

With some girl you’ve probably seen before but never with him. She’s pretty, dark hair, bright eyes, smiling up at him like he’s the best thing in the world and Steve is smiling back. Laughing, carefree, easy. Never the way he is with you.

Then he sees you and his face falls. Like he wasn’t expecting you, like he somehow knows exactly what you were about to do because no matter how hard you try to stop it no one sees through you the way he does and like he's realizing it's already too late.

Something inside you shatters, you don’t wait for him to say anything.

You turn around and you leave. You don’t know where you’re going.

Your vision is blurring, breath shaky, uneven, hands curled into fists.

You don’t stop walking. You don’t look back. You don’t let yourself feel it because if you do, if you really let yourself feel it, you’ll fucking break and you can’t. Not here, not in the middle of the street. Not where he can still see you.

You don’t realize where you’re going until you’re standing in front of Robin’s house. You knock fast, arms wrapped around yourself, trying to hold it all in.

Robin opens the door, half-asleep, blinking. “Jesus Christ, do you know what time it—”

She stops. Her whole face softens. “What happened?”

You step inside, barely breathing, barely holding it together, then you break. “It’s my fault,” you whisper, voice shaking. “It’s all my fucking fault.”

Robin pulls you in instantly, arms wrapping around you solid, warm, safe. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing feels safe right now. Nothing feels real except the way your chest is collapsing in on itself, breath coming too fast, fingers gripping her sweater like you might fall apart completely if you let go.

“Hey, hey, slow down…what happened?”

Robin’s voice is soft but urgent, her hands moving up and down your back like she’s trying to steady you, like she knows if she lets go you’ll shatter completely.

Your throat is so fucking tight it hurts to speak, hurts to breathe, but you force it out anyway. “I was gonna tell him.”

Robin’s whole body goes still.

You suck in a sharp breath, chest heaving, forcing yourself to keep talking because if you stop, you’ll never say it. “I was finally gonna fucking tell him.”

Robin pulls back just enough to look at you. And the look on her face, the pure disbelief, the realization, the holy-shit-you-were-actually-going-to-do-it, holy-shit-i-fucking-knew-it, makes something in your stomach twist.

“Steve?” she asks, like she has to be sure. Like there’s even another answer.

You nod quickly, breath shaking, trying to keep it together. But you can’t. Because suddenly you’re back there, standing in the middle of the street, heart racing, hands sweating, ready to tell him everything.

Then the girl, he laugh, the way Steve had looked at her.

Your stomach clenches. You shake your head, biting back a sob. “And then I saw him.”

Robin’s eyes widen. “Saw him where?”

Your mouth opens, but the words don’t want to come out. Because if you say it, it’s real.

If you say it, then it happened. “With some girl.”

The second the words leave your lips, your throat tightens, hot and painful. You try to push the image away, but it’s seared into you. Steve walking beside her, easy and happy, like he wasn’t carrying around the same weight you were, like he had already moved on while you were still stuck trying to figure out how to hold him in your hands.

You force yourself to finish the thought.

“And he was…”

Your voice catches.

Robin’s fingers squeeze your arms. “Hey, look at me.”

But you can’t.

You squeeze your eyes shut, like if you don’t see her face, you won’t have to see his.

“He was laughing.”

The words feel so small. So stupid in comparison to the way they’re tearing you apart.

“He was… happy.”

Robin swears under her breath, pulling you in tighter, gripping you like she can physically hold you together.

“Okay, okay, just—” She exhales sharply, like she’s trying to find the right words, like she’s trying to fix this.

But she can’t, because you did this, because this is your fault.

“It’s my fault,” you whisper again, and this time, you feel something inside you break completely.

Robin shakes her head, fast, frantic. “Don’t do that. Don’t make this—”

“But it is!” Your voice rises, sharp, angry, desperate. Not at her, at yourself.

Because you did this, you pushed him away. You made him think he was never going to be enough for you. You waited too fucking long.

“I’ve been doing this for months, Robin!” Your breath is ragged, hands trembling so badly you have to curl them into fists. “I’ve been fucking running, and he, he finally had enough and now it’s—”

“He told me y’know? He told me he loves me and I—” Your voice breaks completely.

Because you can’t even finish the sentence, because the end of it is too fucking final.

Robin pulls you against her again, arms tight around you, whispering something soft and steady against your hair, but you barely hear it over the roaring in your head.

“It’s not too late,” she murmurs. “Trust me, It’s not.”

But you just shake your head. Because it is and you hate yourself for it. You hate yourself for so many things.

For being a coward, for waiting until it was too late. For loving him at all and then it comes out. The thing you’ve been choking on for months.

“I love him, Robin.”

Robin stiffens.

You squeeze your eyes shut, a choked sob ripping from your throat.

“I love Steve.”

Your voice is wrecked, broken, shattered beyond repair.

“I love him.”

And saying it doesn’t fix anything, It just makes it hurt worse. Robin’s hands tighten around you and you finally just let yourself cry.

---

Steve is already at Family Video when Robin walks in, half-asleep and nursing a coffee the size of her head.

“We have a problem. A big problem.”

Steve barely looks up from where he’s crouched behind the counter, digging through a box of VHS tapes with a deep scowl.

“Yeah, I know.” He groans, tossing a cassette aside. “They sent us two boxes of the wrong movies. Keith’s gonna have a fucking aneurysm if we don’t..”

“No, you idiot,” Robin cuts in.

Steve pauses. Looks up, frowning. ”…What?”

Robin crosses her arms, expression dead serious. “Y/N.”

Steve freezes. The tape in his hand slips from his fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

“What happened?” His voice is suddenly tight, sharp, urgent. “Is she okay?”

Robin exhales deeply, already exhausted. “She saw you.”

Steve blinks. “Huh?”

Robin glares. “Don’t play dumb, Harrington.”

That’s when it clicks, his face falls. “How do you know about that?” he asks slowly, voice almost hesitant, like he’s bracing himself.

Robin throws her hands in the air. “Because she came to my house at ten PM last night…crying!”

Steve’s stomach drops. “Wait, what?” He shakes his head. “Why? Why was she crying?”

Robin gives him the most exasperated look he’s ever seen.

“What do you mean why?! She saw you walking with some girl! She thinks you were on a date, dingus!”

Steve’s entire body locks up.

“What? No, no! That wasn’t—” He drags a hand down his face, heart pounding. “Wait, let’s, fuck, let’s take it back a minute.”

Robin stares at him expectantly.

Steve takes a deep breath, trying to make sense of the mess in his head.

“I was walking Mindy home. You know, Mindy, the one who works at the café next door? She got in that car accident last month, remember? She didn’t want to drive at night, and her boyfriend was working late, so I said I’d walk her home. Because I’m not an asshole.”

Robin’s eyes narrow. “So you weren’t on a date?”

“No!” Steve groans. “I told you, I was taking Keith’s closing shift! Why the fuck would I go on a date when I’ve been pining after the same girl for a year?”

Robin freezes andthen, it hits her. “Oh my God,” she whispers.

Steve rubs his temples, still processing.

“But Y/N, she was there, Robin and she looked, fuck, she looked so determined and then her face just fell. I thought—” He exhales sharply, voice wrecked. “I thought that was from seeing me because, God, I told her I was in love with her, and then I just fucking left. I did the thing she was most scared of, I left. I didn’t even give her a chance to speak.”

His hands are shaking. “Fuck,” he whispers, horrified. “I made her cry?”

Robin nods slowly. “Steve,” she says carefully, watching the realization slam into him all at once. “She was gonna tell you something.”

Steve’s mouth opens, ready to ask what…But then, he sees it.

He sees it on Robin’s face, the way she doesn’t say it but doesn’t have to. It crashes into him like a fucking freight train.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, eyes going huge. “No way. No….no way.”

Robin nods. “Go.”

Steve doesn’t even think, he doesn’t need to. He just grabs his keys and runs.

-

Steve is out of breath.

His heart is pounding, sweat dripping down his back, his hair a mess from running his hands through it over and over again.

But he doesn’t care, because he can’t find you and he has to.

You weren’t at your house, you weren’t at the library, you weren’t at the cafe and every second he can’t find you, the panic in his chest gets worse.

He almost gives up, but then he sees them, the kids

They’re at the arcade on the bench, arguing over something stupid, but Steve doesn’t care.

He rushes over. “Have any of you seen Y/N?”

They all stop, turning to look at him.

“No,” Max says, frowning. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“None of your business.”

“Why are you sweating?” Mikes noses scrunches

Dustin's eyes widened, as he reads Steve’s face. His mouth drops open. “Holy shit, it’s happening!”

Mike blinks. “What’s happening?”

Lucas grins, nudging Dustin. “No way.”

Mike scowls. “Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Dustin points at Steve like he’s just uncovered the greatest mystery of all time. “He’s gonna go get the girl!!!”

Steve groans. “Oh my God.”

“Finally, fuck!” Lucus yells.

Steve scoffs, flipping him off as he turns back toward his car.

“You guys are the worst.”

“YOU’RE WELCOME!” Dustin shouts after him.

But Steve isn’t listening anymore, because he thinks he knows where you are.

Steve finds you at Lover’s Lake. Sitting on the dock, feet dangling over the water, staring out at nothing.

And when he sees you, when he finally fucking sees you, he lets out a breath of pure relief. His whole chest unclenches. You don’t even look at him when he sits beside you. You don’t startle, don’t ask how he found you, don’t even acknowledge his presence at first.

You both just sit there. The sound of the water lapping against the wood. The distant hum of crickets, the soft rustling of the trees.

Steve doesn’t know how to start this.

But you do.

Your voice is small, barely above a whisper. “I feel like I’m sinking.”

Steve’s whole body goes still, because this is it he thinks, the walls are coming down.

“Like I can barely breathe,” you continue, staring straight ahead. “Like I’m barely above water and sometimes I just… I just want it to stop. I want to stay at the bottom, where it’s dark, where there’s no air, where it’s quiet.”

Steve’s heart fucking breaks.

“And I feel horrible thinking like that,” you whisper, voice wavering, hands trembling. “Because those kids? They’re handling this better than I ever could and I don’t know why I’m like this, Steve.”

“Hey.” Steve leans forward, eyes locked on you. “Hey, look at me.”

You don’t, you just keep going because if you don’t you might lose the courage.

“I don’t like to get close to people,” you say, voice flat now, like you’ve rehearsed this, like you’ve convinced yourself that this is just the way it is. “Because everyone leaves.”

Steve’s chest tightens.

“My dad was supposed to love my mom and he did—” You pause, let out a bitter breath. “Until I came. Then he left and once he left, my mom didn’t want me anymore. Because I was—”

Your throat closes up.

Steve is listening so hard it hurts.

“Because I’m unlovable.”

Steve inhales sharply, like he’s about to interrupt, about to argue, about to tell you you’re wrong, you’re so wrong.

But you keep going. “Being alone? There’s less feeling involved. Less chance of getting hurt. Less disappointment. It’s just… easier.”

You exhale, shaking your head, “But you, Steve…”

His breath catches.

“You make me want to swim.”

Steve sucks in a breath.

“You’re the sun,” you say, voice shaking now. “Shining on the top of the water, lighting the way up and it’s so fucking scary, because—”

You finally turn to face him, tears clinging to your lashes. Eyes so open, so raw, so full of everything you’ve been holding in for so goddamn long.

“Because I love you, Steve Harrington.”

Steve feels like he can’t breathe.

“I love you.”

His heart is slamming against his ribs, his hands are shaking.

Because this is it, this is everything.

You clench your jaw, arms tightening around yourself, like you’re trying to brace for impact and Steve hates it.

Hates that you expect love to hurt.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he says, softer now. “I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.”

Your breath catches. “I don’t know how to be what you need,” you whisper.

Steve exhales. “You already are.”

Steve finally pulls you in, pressing his forehead against yours, holding onto you like he’s never going to let go, his thumbs brushing away your tears.

“Say it again.”

You blink, surprised. “Steve…”

“Please.” His hands are on your face now, cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tears. “Say it again.”

You let out a breath, a broken, shaky, beautiful breath.

“I love you.”

Then he kisses you and it’s not soft.

It’s everything.

It’s months of tension snapping like a rubber band.

It’s his hands shaking against your skin, your fingers tangling in his hair, both of you holding on like you’re afraid this moment might slip through your fingers.

It’s the realization that neither of you have to be alone anymore.

That you’re finally, finally getting it right, when you finally pull away, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling, hearts racing.

Steve smiles. “I love you too.”

[milfygerard]

going through @likeadevils incredible timeline for RED and this quote keeps bouncing around my brain. Since the release of the 1989 TV tracks ive been thinking about how taylors writing style changed so sharply between red and 1989 and I really think this is the moment that that artistic shift really started. In some of the cut tracks for 1989 (especially suburban legends) taylor has her sort of country songwriter habit of creating those sort of unweildy lyrics that can veer off with rogue syllables and rhythms, barely contained in their strict pop structures, bursting at the seams. now I live this, but a perfect cohesive pop song that does not make, and 1989s core goal was just that. The perfect, cohesive pop songs, expressing her feelings through these succinct stabs built within a pop song structure with a steady consistent beat. Heartbreak you can dance to.

I think thats why some swifties feel less "emotion" in the lyrics of 1989 or tend to underrate them a bit. Its almost a complete change in writing ethos, its so not country. its not loose and not wordy, its still sharply written and filled with grand melodrama and intimate details, but in a completely different form from before.

This led to 1989 which is in many ways a Perfect album, specifically songs like blank space and style that I dont think could have existed without her experience writing trouble and the advice given by Max Martin. Adding this to her arsenal is what pushed her from a genre mix country-pop-rock type artist to a true blue pop star.

I have more thoughts on this, and I do think this style has held her back in some ways, but theyre kind of rambly and unformed so I'll stop here but like. Im just so obsessed with how her writing methods have changed over the years. I could write paragraphs on how much shes changed just from her relatively small amount of work done with aaron dessner. Taylor is such a collaborative artist, and makes her best work when shes working with someone new who can throw an entirely new challege her way and really force her out of her comfort zone.

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Hello :) if your requests are still open:

This is my first time requesting something so please ignore this if I‘m doing something wrong.

I saw the 150 Random Writing Prompts and was thinking of a jealous Hunter smut. (Or Echo, if you find it more fitting)

With

143.: “Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

And if it’s ok ( I could not decide, sorry)

97.: if you interrupt me one more time— so help me god”

93.: say you want me, and i’m yours.”

Thanks 🙏🏻 You are an awesome writer!✨

Thank you so much for the request, anon! You did nothing wrong at all! I was able to work in all three, but I’m incapable of writing anything short, so this is kinda long - oops. Hope you like it! <3

Bonus point if you spot the Taylor Swift lyric I managed to weave in!

Green Doesn’t Suit You

With the whole squad safely back on Pabu, you settle into a comfortable civilian life. But the yearly Celestialis festival, said to bring good fortune for the next year to those who attend, brings with it something you never thought you’d have.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 6.5k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: jealousy, friends to lovers, pet names, old lady shoving her oar in, Omega is a fantastic wing-woman, confessions of love, first kiss together, squint for possessiveness, being (lovingly) manhandled, first time together, oral (f!receiving), unprotected PiV, dirty talk, soft aftercare, all the fluffy feels.

The air was stifling, not only from the heat outside but the warmth emanating from both ovens in the kitchen of your new home on Pabu.

The house had been a gift – the fanciest gift you’d ever received – from Shep and the other island residents. A thank you for all the hard work you, the boys, and Omega had put into rebuilding their island after the freak tsunami.

All seven of you, living together in a space infinitely bigger than the Marauder or your old barracks. It was heaven.

“We still need to get those tanks moved.” Omega grumbled, grabbing a clean tray and loading it with the latest batch of cooled cookies you’d made. In the sitting room, just visible through the kitchen doorway, were two bacta tanks. Where Phee had managed to procure them from was still a mystery, but they’d saved Crosshair and Tech’s lives after you, Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker had stormed Mount Tantiss to rescue Omega and the twins. The brothers had been worse for wear – it was still a miracle Tech had survived his fall.

“I’ll speak to Phee in the morning.” You added it to your mental list, skirting around an open cabinet door.

Today was the Celestialis festival, where Pabu’s residents came together to wish for good fortune for the year ahead. Once Shep and the island’s organising committee had caught wind of how good your baking skills were, they’d pulled you into the fray. For weeks, you’d been planning and purchasing ingredients and trying different recipes. And for the last few days, you’d been baking all hours of day and night – with varying levels of assistance from Omega and her brothers.

Four years ago, when the war had broken out, you’d signed up as a civilian handler. Fresh out of college and with nothing lined up, it had seemed like a good idea. While other handlers stayed on Kamino and supported their squads from a distance, the moment you’d read the files for Clone Force 99, you’d known that you’d need to be at their side constantly. They had a habit of veering off track, and handling that from afar would only give you a permanent migraine. So, after signing a hefty waiver with the Kaminoans, you’d been handed some armour, a blaster, and directions to the hangar.

Three years, you’d fought alongside them, learning the best ways to manage them and their unique skill set, building bonds and friendships far deeper and more meaningful than anything you’d ever had before. This last year, since Order 66, had brought its own challenges, too, but it has also brought you Omega.

Grabbing another tray from a cupboard, you pass it over to the young girl, watching as she loads it up with more cookies. Sweat beads on the nape of your neck, and you sigh, lifting your hair to try and get some air to it.

Omega, forever perceptive, abandons the cookies to help tie your hair back. From a small pot on the counter, she goes to grab a hairband, but at the last minute, you redirect her to the strip of fabric that sits nearby, the two of you sharing a look.

It’s another hour before you’re ready to leave for the festival. The boys had headed out mid-afternoon to help set up, taking their dressier clothes with them to spare themselves the walk back to the house and to not get in your way as you finished up. As infuriating and stubborn as they could all be at times, their thoughtfulness was unparalleled.

Dragging wagons laden with treats up to the central plaza, you and Omega work quickly to lay out all the goodies on the tables Shep had set aside for you. You hoped there would be enough for everyone, especially as other food was on offer, too. Stepping back from the tables, you take a deep breath.

“Finally left the kitchen, eh?” Echo teases as he approaches, the rest of the boys in tow. He’d tried to help as best as he could over the last few days, but baking with one hand had been less than ideal. Ultimately, he’d sat at the kitchen table and kept you going with conversation and caff breaks. And he’d chased Hunter off a few times when that keen nose of his had brought him sniffing around for treats to ‘sample.’

You watch as Omega passes a star-shaped cookie over to Wrecker, and the delight on the big man’s face as he devours it fills you with pride. “If I step foot in that kitchen again at any point in the next two weeks, please shoot me.” You joke, the corners of your lips curling into a smile.

“Deal.” Crosshair teases, toothpick sliding to the other side of his mouth as he reaches for a Roonan lemon cookie. His appetite hadn’t returned much since his rescue from Mount Tantiss and time in the bacta tank, but he was trying to eat a little more each day so you wouldn’t worry about him.  

“Hey!” You protest playfully, the boys chuckling as Crosshair takes a small bite, throwing you a wink. Light conversation flows between you all, broken up by the occasional island resident swinging by for some treats. The music starts, and more residents arrive, joining the festival’s spirit, dancing together and laughing.

Hunter can’t keep his eyes off you. For the last four years, he’s seen you in blacks and armour, with the recent addition of sweatpants around the house, and yet now you’re in a dress. A light and airy thing with delicate straps that cross over your shoulders, the fabric cinched in at your waist to accentuate the soft curves of your body. He’s sure it’s the same shade of aqua that paints his pauldrons, too. The thought has a strange sensation sweeping through his gut.

The sound of someone calling your name snatches his attention and drags his thoughts back to the present. As you turn towards the person calling for you, he can’t help but steal the opportunity to admire you. Eyes raking up your bare legs, across your hips and ass that he’s imagined grasping many times, over the smooth plane of your back to the curve of your neck and then…

The entire galaxy might as well cease to exist as his mind goes blank.

Wide brown eyes lock onto the scrap of red fabric keeping your hair up, and that strange sensation in his gut slams into him again. There, holding your hair up, is one of his spare bandanas.

His heart races, thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. A torrent of emotions surges within him. He wants to reach out to you, to pull you close and finally tell you how much you mean to him, but he holds himself back. He can't bear the thought of you not returning the sentiment. Maybe it had just been an accident. Maybe his bandana had been the closest thing available.

In the silence of his thoughts, he missed you excusing yourself to talk with one of the island’s elderly residents, who’d been calling you over.

“Smooth.” Crosshair deadpans, gaze flicking to Hunter as they watch you go, the rest of their siblings distracted by the food and music.

The slink of his brother’s voice pulls Hunter from his thoughts, and he frowns in Crosshair’s direction. “What?” He asks. They’d worked hard to reconcile ever since Crosshair had been deemed stable enough to leave the bacta tank – they’d broached difficult topics and mended a few bridges as they worked towards getting back to what they’d had before the Order had been given. It was slow and, at times, painful, but neither of them was willing to give up on each other again.

“You were staring at her like she’s pure aurodium. Not that I blame you…” Hawkish eyes slide towards Hunter, a smirk tugging at Crosshair’s lips as he watches his brother’s jaw clench and his head tilt, a hardness settling across his features.

Crosshair lets out a low chuckle, enjoying the slight rise he’d secured. “Green doesn’t suit you, vod.” He tosses the comment before snatching up a few more of your baked treats, striding away in search of a quiet place to perch. Crowds still bothered him, but he didn’t want to avoid the gathering altogether and feel like even more of an outcast.

Across the plaza, you’d reached Mrs. Magiere. The elderly lady had lived on the island for years and had slowly convinced her family to move across the galaxy and join her. She wandered the island around lunchtime, and you’d often crossed paths, sharing polite conversation.

Beside her stood an unfamiliar man. “There you are, dear. I want to introduce you to my grandson, Dax.” Mrs. Magiere reached for your hand, drawing you closer.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Dax.” You offered the man a smile. He was a little taller than you, with a slender build, perfectly coifed brown hair and piercing green eyes.

Dax tries to keep his gaze on your face, but his eyes betray him for a moment as he takes all of you in. You’re quite lovely, he must admit. “And you. My grandmother speaks very fondly of you.” He replies.

Mrs. Magiere looks between you both with glee. “Why don’t you two go and dance? My old bones can’t keep up anymore.” One of her hands finds your lower back, and she gives you a gentle nudge towards Dax.

Warmth sweeps across your cheeks caught off guard and a little uncomfortable, but Dax offers you a reassuring smile and his hand. Not wanting to cause a scene or upset anyone, you take it, letting him lead you towards the plaza’s centre where couples and families are dancing. He stops en route, snagging a delicate pink flower from one of the blossoming vines nearby. With careful hands, he slides it into your hair, leaning back to admire you.

“And here I thought you couldn’t be any more beautiful.” The compliment comes naturally to Dax as he retakes your hand, leading you to a small available spot amongst the dancing island residents.  

The warmth in your cheeks grows, and all you can offer Dax is a small smile as he twirls you into his arms once you are amongst the crowd. Laughing softly, you let him lead, the few dance classes you’d taken at college helping you keep up with him.

“You did a wonderful job with the baked goods.” Dax lays another compliment on you, enjoying your bashful smile.

It felt good to be appreciated for all your hard work preparing for this evening, especially by those outside of your little family. “Thank you. What did you like the most?”

Turmoil rolls through Dax. Truth told, he hadn’t sampled any of the treats you’d so lovingly prepared, but he knew it was essential to compliment you. “The oat ones were delicious.” He takes a stab in the dark.

Your smile falters briefly before you fix it back into place. “I’m glad.” You lie in return, not pointing out that you hadn’t made oat cookies.

Standing off at the side of the plaza, it took no time for Hunter to find you amongst the crowd. Over the years, he’d memorised the sound of your heartbeat and the delicate whisper of your voice as the light breeze carried it to him. His eyes found you, and his brows furrowed as he watched you gracefully twirl in the arms of another man, a torrent of emotions churning within him. Jealousy, like a venomous snake, coiled around his heart, injecting poison into his every thought.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The woman he loved, whose smile could light up his darkest days, was now smiling at someone else. Insecurity gnawed at him, an unpleasant feeling he thought he’d long buried during his cadet days.

He longed to be the one guiding you across the dance floor, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the galaxy. The realisation that someone else was experiencing that privilege grated on him.

“I don’t like him.” Omega’s voice snapped Hunter from his spiralling thoughts, and he glanced down to see her standing at his side, her own eyes watching you and the unfamiliar man dance.

“Hm, neither do I.” Hunter comments, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you twirl again.

It was no secret to Omega how much you and Hunter loved one another, and she was getting tired of neither of you doing anything about it. “Then, why don’t you go dance with her?” She asked, injecting as much innocence into her voice as she could muster, wide eyes turning up to look at her brother.

Hunter sighed. Omega had a point – he could quickly end this torture.

“Mind if I cut in?” The smoky rasp of Hunter’s voice interrupted your dance, and you turned towards him, offering him a bright smile.

The smile Dax had been wearing dissipated, a faint clench to his jaw as he shook his head while the music changed to something softer. “Not at all.” He lied, taking his hands from you. His grandmother had told him about the man who’d interrupted, with half of his face shrouded in darkness, and had warned him that you were close. Not willing to go easily, Dax lifted one of your hands to his lips, holding your gaze as he pressed a kiss to the back of it before stepping away a small distance. He’d wait nearby for another turn.

Your bright smile turned a little uneasy as Dax pressed a kiss to your hand, but relief had your shoulders sagging as Hunter stepped forward, sliding one arm around your waist to pull you close, your hand resting on his shoulder. He took your other hand with his free one, fingers interlacing. “Thank you for the save.” You murmured gratefully, knowing that with his hearing, you didn’t need to raise your voice to be heard above the music.

“Always.” Hunter’s answer leaves no room for doubt as he gently leads, moving you both in a slow sway. He can’t help but revel in your closeness. Every touch, every brush of your hand against his, feels electrifying, making his heart race with desire. Your warm body is pressed to his, his senses overwhelmed with you.

Warmth and security flood your body with the press of Hunter’s hand on your lower back, igniting a desire to be even closer. The rest of the galaxy can’t reach you here, tucked safely in his arms, and for a moment, you allow yourself to forget about everything that’s happened over the last four years – all the pain and bloodshed, all the horrors and tears. Through it all, Hunter has been a steady presence.

As you sift through the good memories, certain moments stand out. There was that day at the lake on Kintan, where the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The two of you had sat side by side, another successful mission under your belt, your laughter dancing in the air. You remember stealing glances at him, the way the sunlight had caught in his eyes, adding more warmth than you thought possible to those endless pools of brown.

Then there were the late-night conversations while you were deep in hyperspace, where you’d lose track of time, sharing dreams, fears, and secrets. Hunter’s voice, soft yet determined, painted a vivid picture of what he wanted from life after the war.

You could only hope those wants had changed.

Hunter drew his senses in, letting the crowd in the plaza fade into the background as he focused on you, the steadiness of your heartbeat, the feel of your hand in his and your bodies pressed together, and the subtle change to your scent. “You smell different.” He comments, curious eyes finding yours.

“If anyone else said that to me, I’d stomp on their foot.” You laugh, a little caught off guard by the statement. “I…” You trail off, the warmth that had faded from your cheeks now returning. “I stopped wearing perfume while knee-deep in the war, but now we’re out the other side of it. I thought I might try it again.” You admit, head dipping bashfully, before worry laces through you. “Is it too much? I aimed for something I hoped wouldn’t bother you and your senses.”

Lips parting at your answer, Hunter blinks with disbelief. Here you were in a sweet little dress, one of his bandanas keeping your hair up, and now you’d dropped on him that you were wearing a perfume picked out with his heightened senses in mind. He groans, desire churning through his veins. “Are you trying to turn me on, or are you really just that oblivious?” 

Freezing, you think for a moment that you’ve misheard him. “What?” You question softly.

Hunter realises his mistake, but it’s too damn late to take the words back. 

In the following pause, neither of you moving, simply staring at one another, Dax spots his opportunity and steps forward. “Can I cut back in?”

Hunter has to actively stop himself from grunting in frustration at the interruption. “We’re not done.” He tells him politely, making sure to keep his eyes on you. He knows he has to say something to you. “Cyar’ika, I…”

Dax huffs, finding it unfair that this man had swooped in and stolen you mid-dance and refused to let him back in. “Look, bud-“

Something snaps in Hunter, and his head whips to the side, eyes narrowing at the man you’d been dancing with. “If you interrupt me one more time, so help the Maker…” He growls out the threat, no longer caring that he’s being rude. This was too important. You were too important.

Your jaw drops, and you watch in disbelief as Hunter threatens Dax. Your heart races, and for a moment, the tension in the air is palpable. Dax, a bit taken aback by Hunter’s sudden intensity, raises his hands in a placating gesture.

“Whoa, whoa, man.” Dax stammers, realising he’s pushed Hunter’s patience to the limit. He steps back, allowing some space between him and the seething clone.

Hunter takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, regaining his composure. He turns back to you, his eyes softening as he tries to find the right words. "Cyar'ika, I'm sorry. It’s just... I need to talk to you.”

Your heart still races, but now it’s not just from the tension between the two men. You look into Hunter’s eyes searchingly. “What is it?” you ask, your voice filled with concern.

Keeping hold of your hand, Hunter leads you away from the crowd, finding a quiet corner of the plaza where you can talk in peace. The silence lingers for a few minutes as he struggles to find the right words, scrubbing his free hand over his face, having never anticipated this moment would come. 

Unable to bear seeing him so stressed, you step closer, resting a hand against his chest. His heart thuds heavy under your palm. “H…” You breathe the little nickname you’d given him shortly after joining them all those years ago, which breaks him out of his funk. 

“You’re a kaleidoscope of everything beautiful in this galaxy.” He blurts out, catching you off guard. “Your kindness, the way you listen, how you look after everyone around you — you’ve had me captivated since the day you waltzed onto the Marauder like you owned the damn thing and introduced yourself. And now, it’s terrifying to think of my life without you in it.” Once the words start, he can’t stop them.

“And I know we’ve been friends for years, and I value that more than anything in the galaxy. But seeing him dance with you and thinking of him doing it again…” Hunter huffs, trying desperately not to get worked up. “I mean, cyar’ika, the colour…” He gestures to your dress with his free hand. “And you’re using my bandana to keep your hair up, and you picked out a perfume with me in mind...” He trails off, knowing he’s shared so much that he can’t return from it, but Maker does it feel good to get the weight off his shoulders.

A small smile weaves onto your lips, even though you know you shouldn’t be happy, given the man you love is clearly stressed. “What if I told you none of it was accidental?” You murmur, your hand on his chest smoothing across the firm plane of muscle. “That you didn’t misplace your right pauldron the other week – I borrowed it to colour match. And I purposefully asked Omega to use your bandana earlier when she was tying up my hair.” You confess, eyes darting up to watch as surprise paints itself on his handsome features.

“You know, I’ve spent countless nights replaying moments in my head, wondering if you ever picked up on how my heart races when you’re near or how I can’t keep my eyes off you when we’re together. I didn’t want to make things awkward or ask for something neither of us could give in the middle of a war. But we’ve made it out the other side, so…” It’s your turn to trail off.

Your words hung in the air, and Hunter’s heart began to race, his body swirling with so many emotions it was difficult to grasp onto any of them. A rush of warmth surged through him, from the tips of his fingers to the depths of his soul. Gazing into your eyes, all he finds is pure, unwavering honesty. Your sincerity was a balm to his fears.

Hunter’s silence unnerves you, but you’re not backing out now. Not when the promise of something so much sweeter is tantalisingly close. “Say you want me, and I’m yours.” You whisper.

Hunter’s gaze never wavers from yours, and a flicker of relief crosses his eyes as he realises that this isn’t a cruel joke or an illusion. It’s real. The tension between you seems to crackle with anticipation as he takes a deep breath, finally finding the words he’s been searching for. “I’ve wanted you since the day you walked onto the Marauder.” He admits softly, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “I’ve tried to be strong, to protect you and the rest of the squad, to not let my feelings get the better of me. But I can’t deny it any longer. I want you with every beat of my heart, every breath I take.”

His confession sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the intensity of his desire in the way he holds you and the way he looks at you. There’s no turning back now.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Hunter leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. The world around you fades into obscurity, and it’s just the two of you finally giving in to the magnetic pull that has existed between you for so long. The kiss is a promise, a declaration of all the unspoken feelings and desires built up over the years.

As your lips parted, Hunter rested his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged with emotion. “I want you, and I’m yours.” He whispers, his voice filled with love and longing.

A radiant smile spreads across your face, and you reply, “I’m yours too, Hunter. Always.”

His smile matches your own as he pulls back a little, though his fingers remain on your face, now stroking across your jawline. “Want to get out of here?”

Teeth sinking into your lower lip, you nod. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Hunter’s eyes twinkle with excitement and relief as he takes your hand and leads you away from the plaza, slipping down side streets towards your home. As you walk hand in hand, you can feel the electric connection between you two, a spark that has finally ignited into a full-blown flame.

Halfway there, Hunter pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist as he tucks you against the side of a building, his lips finding yours. His kisses are hungry, filled with longing and desire, as if he’s been waiting forever for this moment. And in truth, he feels like he has.

As the kiss breaks, your laughter echoes in the stillness of the night, smile as bright as the stars above as he disentangles from you, drawing you out of the shadows and back towards the house. As you reach the front door, he stops, his free hand moving to your hair, plucking the flower from Dax free. Carelessly, he drops it to the floor.

“Hunter!” You exclaim, watching the delicate bloom hit the pebbled path beneath your feet.

Something dark shines in his eyes, sending a thrill through you. “The only things in your hair should be my bandana,” his hand reaches for your ponytail, giving it a gentle tug as he leans in, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Or my hands.”

Breath catching, Hunter’s lips meet yours for a passionate kiss. The front door is pushed open, and you’re guided inside, steady hands grasping at your hips as he kicks the door shut behind you both.

Heart thudding as both of Hunter’s hands cup your face; you sink into his touch as his tongue slides between your lips, tasting you. He leads you up the stairs, refusing to break the kiss for even a moment as you reach his room. One hand leaves your face to push the bedroom door shut, and a moment later, you’re pressed up against it, Hunter’s body pining you in place, an arm resting on the door above your head, caging you in. That earlier sense of safety creeps back through you.

Tearing his lips from yours, Hunter’s chest heaves with each breath, a fire licking its way through his veins as you both open your eyes, gazing at one another for a split second. His head dips, mouth leaving a trail of delicate kisses along your throat, groaning as you tilt to give him better access, the prettiest moan sliding from your lips as he laves a kiss to the juncture where your shoulder and neck meet, following it with a quick, gentle nip.

Knees shaking, your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one until you can push the fabric off his body. The rough pads of his fingers drag across your bare thighs, breath stuttering as the hem of your dress meets his grasp. He breaks contact just long enough to lean back and lift the garment over your head, letting it fall to the floor.

“Fuck…” Hunter curses quietly, eyes roving over your exposed body, the curves and dips of your frame, the swell of your bare breasts. A needy groan escapes him as he realises your panties match the dress, too.

Before self-consciousness can creep in, he’s dragging you to the bed with a hungry kiss, pushing you back onto it, kiss breaking as your back meets the soft mattress. For a moment, you both pause, drinking the other in. There’s a wildness in Hunter’s eyes you’ve never seen before, a warmth in your cheeks at how his eyes devour you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times – while sparring or coming out of the fresher, changing, or patching up wounds, but now you can look.

His broad shoulders taper to his narrow waist, and his tanned, toned skin begs to be touched. Half of him is shrouded in black ink, and a burning desire to drag your nails over the ridges of his abs has you licking your lips.

Hunter’s not faring much better, either. The sight of you sprawled on his bed in nothing but a scrap of aqua fabric, lips kiss-swollen, his bandana still in your hair, and your gorgeous tits exposed has him itching to fuck you on every surface, to fill the room with the scent of your arousal and make you scream his name over and over again. “Don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.” Hunter breaks the momentary silence, reaching down to palm himself through his pants.

The action draws your gaze downwards, and you watch delightfully as the man you love gives himself a stroke through the fabric.

Hunter’s nostrils flare, picking up on how the simple action drew more of your heady scent from between your thighs. At the foot of the bed, he slowly sinks down onto his knees, eyes never once leaving you. If you smell that delicious, he can only imagine how you’ll taste.

Propped up on your forearms, you watch as Hunter sinks down between your thighs, those warm brown eyes focused solely on you. Fingers skim up your calves, feather-light, gently pressing your legs wider as they reach your knees. His head turns inwards, gazes breaking as he presses soft kisses to your thighs, tongue leaving small, slow licks in their wake. He takes his time savouring you, savouring the moment.

Lips brush across the juncture between your thigh and hip, sucking small marks against your skin before Hunter buries his face against your clothed pussy, eyes shut as he presses his nose against your clit, inhaling deeply. Your scent pulls a low growl from him, the vibrations making you gasp. “So wet already. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” Hunter vows, tongue pressing forward to lick across the damp fabric of your panties, making your breath stutter at the contact as your head thunks back down onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut.

Fingers prying the material down your legs, Hunter dives back between your thighs, dragging the flat of his tongue through your soaked folds, delighting in the way your hips buck and you cry out. He was right; you taste even more delicious than you smell, and he groans at your tang on his tongue.

Drawing your legs over his shoulders, he settles in, licking long, broad strokes across your pussy, familiarising himself with you. His senses home in on you, mind cataloguing every slight noise you make, every jerk of your hips, the way your breath quickens when his tongue skirts oh so close to your entrance and then circles around your clit.

Needy little whines escape you, every nerve in your body alight as Hunter teases you, lips and tongue exploring you, his nose bumping against your clit to send sparks of desire surging through you. Warmth pools in your belly, and it only grows as the wet warmth of his tongue presses against your entrance, dipping in. “Hunter…” You moan out his name, fingers burrowing into his hair as you cant your hips, grinding against his face.

Pride blooms in Hunter’s chest at your response, and he keeps going a little longer before he flicks his tongue up and across your clit, the sounds of your cries of delight like music to his ears. Hands grasping at your thighs, he presses your legs up, almost folding you in half as his tongue sweeps side to side, teasing his way back down your pussy as he has greater access.

The change in angle makes you moan, free hand clawing at the sheets while your hips rock, chasing the delight of his mouth. A light suck on your clit makes you gasp, the warmth in your belly building with every swipe of his talented tongue. Dragging his tongue around the edge of your folds, he draws an arch, skirting around the top of your clit again. “Hunter, please.” You crack, desperate for him.

You feel him smile against you, releasing one of your thighs, fingers roaming up your body until his tattooed hand gently squeezes one of your breasts. His mouth is relentless, tongue finding your clit, firmly moving side to side over the sensitive bud as those talented fingers of his tweak your pebbled nipple.

The warmth crescendos, spilling over, and you cry out his name as your release slams into you, making your body shudder, gasping for breath at its intensity.

Hunter works you through the high, and as you whine at the overstimulation, his mouth leaves you, fingers letting go of your nipple to smooth over the soft skin of your breast. “Beautiful.” He whispers reverently, tongue darting out to lick his lips and drink up the taste of you as he watches you come down from the high, your heavy-lidded eyes opening to meet his gaze.

With your hand in his hair, you guide him up your body, small hums of delight leaving you as he peppers kisses across your stomach and chest, laving little licks across your breasts as he drags you further up the bed. He breaks away for a second, using one hand to remove his belt and shuck off his pants.

You watch as he strips completely, acres of tanned skin finally revealed. As he ditches his boxers, his hard cock springs free, and your tongue darts out to wet your lips, thighs parting a little wider. You relish the low groan the action pulls from him before he takes himself in hand, fist sliding along his shaft for a few pumps. He’s average in length but thicker than you expected - anticipation coils through you.

He prowls up the bed, settling above you, letting a little of his weight rest against you. Dark eyes meet yours, and you can’t hold back your smile, fingers reaching up to trace along his face. Drawing his head down, you steal a kiss, letting the moment build as your eyes flutter shut, tongues brushing together. Hunter shifts above you, resting his weight on one hand while the other dips between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his cock as he teases the velvety head through your soaked folds. Achingly slowly, he presses forward, your lips parting as you let out a soft moan at the stretch as he eases into you inch by inch.

“That’s it, cyar’ika. Maker, you’re so pretty, taking all of me like a good girl.” He whispers against your lips, enjoying how your breathing changes and your heart races at his words. You feel like heaven as he bottoms out, hips flush against you, chests pressed together as his hand moves back to the side of your head, redistributing his weight.

The stretch as Hunter fills you is exquisite, and your eyes open to gaze up at him in awe that this is happening – that this incredible man is yours. The first slow roll of his hips has your head tilting backwards, a breathy sigh filling the room.

The pace builds, your hands reaching for him, dragging up his back and down his flanks, nails scraping along flushed skin, making him grunt at the combination of pleasure and pain. Desire coils through you, building with every thrust of his hips, every drag of his cock as he pulls out to the tip and pushes back in. He leans down to kiss you, demanding tongue sliding between your lips to taste you.

“You’re so good for me, so fucking good around me. Made for me.” Hunter growls and the sound of your bodies meeting creates a background of white noise. “Won’t last long, baby. You feel too good. Fucking dreamed of this.” He adds, supporting his weight with one hand again, thrusts never faltering as he reaches down to grasp one of your legs, hauling it up. He presses a kiss to your ankle before he pushes your leg towards your chest, the change in angle enabling him to thrust into you even deeper.

Eyes falling shut once again as he drives you closer to the edge, you whine and whimper as his cock repeatedly rubs against your g-spot. The hand he’d used to pry your leg up moves to your breast, fingers tweaking your pebbled nipple again before he gently squeezes. Your name falls from his lips, raspy alongside his command. “Come for me.”

Between his hands, cock, and voice, you’re powerless to resist. Fingers scrambling at his body for purchase, your back arches as you cry out his name, desire bubbling over into a rush of euphoria that sweeps through your body and momentarily renders you speechless. Tremors wrack through you, toes curling as you desperately pant for breath, hazy eyes opening to look up at him.

Feeling you come apart, watching you fall into pleasure beneath him, was more than Hunter could’ve ever asked for. You were beautiful every day, but lost in the throes of an orgasm he’d given you? You were divine. He could feel the pressure building, feel himself teetering on that edge.

“Where?” The roughness of Hunter’s voice caresses you, warm puffs of his breath tickling your ear from where he’s bent down to bring you both even closer, caging you under him as his thrusts grow sloppy, muscles taut under your hands.

“In me, please.” You whisper back, and the deep moan he lets out will forever be seared into your mind.

Hunter gives a few final thrusts before he presses in as deep as he can, a guttural sound leaving him as his eyes screwed shut, thighs shaking as he hits his own peak, the pressure evaporating into molten bliss as he gives you everything. Slowly, the pleasure pulls back, like the tide, and he swallows thickly as his eyes open, breath catching at the sight of you.

You’re gazing up at him like he hung all the stars in the galaxy, indescribable love woven through your features. Carefully, he lowers your raised leg, fingers rubbing to return some of the feeling as his lips meet yours with a tenderness that could only come from years of shared moments, mouths moving in perfect harmony, a slow, sensuous exploration of one another.

Hand sliding to your waist, Hunter holds you still as he gently eases himself out of you, shifting to lay on his side, drawing you against his chest.

You nestle into his embrace. Your fingers trace the contours of his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. The years of laughter and tears, the countless shared experiences, and the trust built over time have all culminated in this moment.

Hunter presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and you can feel the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. He draws lazy circles on your back, a comforting motion that brings you a sense of security and belonging.

With your bodies pressed together, you both revel in the aftermath of your lovemaking. The room is filled with a peaceful stillness, and you listen to the soft melody of your combined breaths, knowing that this love is the anchor that holds you both steady in a still-turbulent galaxy.

[staciesometimeswrites]

Several Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the ever amazing @jamieroyjamieroy

I'm not going to lie, I didn't have anything prepped for this that I haven't already posted, but here's something I'd like to work on. Enjoy.

-x-

“So maybe we both have daddy issues.”

“I don't.” 

“But you think I do?”

“God I hope so.”

Buck swallowed hard and grinned, hoping that his face didn’t show how hot that had just made him. Tommy looked at him with a smug little quirk of his lips as he took a deep sip of his wine, and Buck had to break eye contact before his ears began to steam like an old fashioned train. Under the table Tommy brushed his foot casually up and down his shin - not salaciously, more just for the contact - but Buck was already worked up. He had to strain really hard to not squirm. Never before had any of his past girlfriends made him so giddy so easily. Sure, Taylor was always up for a romp in the bed, but whenever they sat down for dinner, that’s all it was. Buck didn’t feel the need for subtle flirting, or casual touches.

He had liked her, maybe even loved her, but it was nothing compared to feeling like a fifteen year old boy with his first crush again.

The rest of dinner was a more subdued affair as they veered away from heavier topics. Tommy told Buck about the Mustang he’d been working on restoring after buying it dirt cheap. It had been in complete shambles, more parts missing than there, but Tommy was bringing it back to life. Last time Buck stopped by, he’d sat in the garage as his boyfriend worked under the hood, sipping on one of his fancy craft beers.

[tiktaalic]

Taylor swifts dating woes boil down to the fact that she wants to date someone who has a brain in their head but also DOESNT have more principles than her but also doesn’t have FEWER principles than her. She acts like this is a really hard balance to strike but I don’t think that’s true I think there are plenty of actors and musicians who care about money and also make a post once a year about voting blue. It’s just she’s veered from guy with principles to dirtbag leftist to statistical outlier concussions georg, none of which strike that balance.

[blessedbyahuntress]

Comfort at Midnight

A/N: I'm so sorry this wasn't done sooner, @solangelo-taylors-version

Pairing: Thalia Grace x Hunter!of!Artemis!Reader (Friends, not lovers!)

Warnings: Luke Being an asshole (again), Nightmares!!!

Requested?: Yep!

You sprinted down one of the long hallways that branched out from that horrid room.

Somehow, some way, you were back in the labyrinth. You hadn’t been here for years, not since you went with your friends to go find Daedalus.

You were sure you could feel the Chimera’s breath on your neck, and you veered into yet another room, slamming the rusted door behind you, like it would stop the monster from your nightmares from killing you.

Too late you realized that this room was one of the only ones with no escape. Gods, you had just gotten yourself trapped.

The Chimera’s footsteps were nowhere to be heard. You pressed your ear against the door, wondering if it had gotten distracted or bored, as young monsters tend to do. Instead of the pounding of four feet on stone, there was the sound of normal footsteps. Mortal footsteps.

But then there was a low whistle, a whistle you knew all too well.

You backed up from the door, to the very back of the room where the shadows were darker, heart beating faster with every deliberately slow step he took.

Then the door flew open, violently shaking on its hinges.

And there Luke stood, in all of his past glory, golden eyes studying your cowering figure.

He brought his scythe forward and touched the point, testing the point. Then he returned his gaze to you.

“We’ve been on a long run, you and I,” Luke said, taking a step toward you with a bit of a sneer curling on his lips. “But I think this is the end.” He brought his scythe down, cutting toward your gut.

You sat bolt upright, eyes wide, face beaded with sweat. Your head butted with somebody else’s and you heard a low “Oof.”

Thalia reappeared in your line of sight, rubbing her forehead. “Gods,” she said. “You couldn’t have waited until I actually woke you up? I wasn’t prepared for a headbutting match.” 

“Sorry, Thalia,” you apologized. “Why were you going to wake me up at this hour?” You looked up at the sky through the sunroof to find the moon still hanging high above the clouds.

Thalia rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. “Because I happen to know when my best friend is having a nightmare!” She replied, as if you should know that.

Acting more serious, she sat down beside you. “Would you like to tell me about it?” Thalia asked.

Your eyes flickered around the tent you were resting in, the only other person with you and your best friend being Phoebe, who was still soundly asleep. You sighed. “It’s about Luke,” you confessed. You wanted to tell her about your nightmare, but you wanted to warn Thalia that the star villain of her dream was her best friend turned monster.

To your relief, Thalia only pursed her lips. “Tell me,” she insisted. 

It all came out so quickly, you were sure that only a really ADHD demigod could understand your words, but Thalia held onto every word you said. You were gasping for breath when you finished speaking.

Thalia slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug. It didn’t last long, you knew Thalia wasn’t really a big fan of physical touch (unless it was punching a male demigod in the face), but it was enough to reassure you that she was here for you.

You gave her a small smile, telling her without words that you would be alright.

“Thanks, Thalia,” you said, ever grateful for your friend.

She removed her arm from your shoulder, but not before messing up your hair.

“Hey!” You cried, trying to fix your hair. It was no good. You huffed in frustration and Thalia laughed.

Phoebe, apparently not as asleep as she looked, raised her head to glare sleepily at the both of you. “If you don’t shut up right now and let me get some sleep, I’m telling Artemis,” she told you crossly.

That only made you and Thalia laugh even harder.

[hellodarling1357]

The 1 (Part 1) - Cassian x Reader

and if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you...

137 years, 6 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days.

That was how long you had lived in your safe and happy bubble of delusion. It was just a shame it wasn’t meant to last.

~~~~~

Hi! So this fic is going to very loosly inspired by a bunch of Taylor Swift songs that were recently requested. Just a heads up that there's no guarantee of a happy ending...

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 1.5k

Having met the Night Court General at a meeting between the courts, you immediately found yourself intrigued. His presence had been rough and demanding, lethal and sharp, and as he stood beside the Shadowsinger, both sets of hazel eyes surveying the congregated fae from their positions behind their High Lord, you couldn’t help your own assessment of the Illyrian before you.

Your initial attraction came from his appearance; tanned skin, powerful muscles, and the most gorgeous set of eyes you had ever seen – you were very easy to please. But it had been within the hour following the meeting’s conclusion where you found yourself wanting, needing, to find out more.

Walking along the spanning corridors of the Dawn Court's palace, you had been so mesmerised by the view that lay beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows that you didn’t sense someone approaching until you had turned the corner and bumped straight into them. The mass of a body before you would've sent you near toppling to the floor if it hadn't been for the sudden grasp of large, calloused hands on your shoulders that hauled you back up and lingered until you were stable on your feet again.

“I’m so sorry,” Your face was burning in embarrassment, the colour only darkening as you took in the sight of the male before you. “I clearly wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not the one who almost landed on my ass. Are you alright?” The furrow of his brows and the way his eyes looked you up and down in concern has you shifting on the spot.

“I’m fine…” You let your words trail, not knowing what else to say with your mind seemingly going blank in the General’s presence. Hazel eyes scrutinized your face, as though searching for a hint that you were anything but fine.

Allowing another moment of silence, you awkwardly cleared your throat as you shifted again.

“Well, I should probably go–”

“I’m Cassian, by the way. I don’t think we’ve met?”

A shy laugh escaped you as you smiled up at Cassian who was giving you an amused look, having both spoken at the same time.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Cassian.”

You were both coyly grinning now, shaking your head with a giggle at the absurdness in which the conversation had veered.

Another beat of silence had you repeating, “I should go,” before offering Cassian another small smile and sidestepping past him into the continuous stretch of corridor, lit up in hues of orange and red from the slowly setting sun.

“Wait,” You turned on the spot, hoping it didn’t come off as too eager. “What court are you from?”

“Day. You’re from the Night Court.”

“I am,” he sounded almost smug in his response, “You seem to know an awful lot about me for someone I’ve never met.”

“Hardly,” you laughed. “It’s not every day that a new High Lord comes in and immediately dismisses the entirety of the previous council, only to have it reinstated with Illyrians, and females, no less. Your High Lord created quite a stir.” You noted the clench of his jaw at your words, watching as he cocked his head at you, eyes somewhat narrowing in predatorial assessment.

“Is that an issue for you?” His voice was suddenly hard and sharp, the voice of the General, arms crossing over his broad chest as his eyes continued to sweep your face, “Sharing status with Illyrians, that is?”

“No,” You replied, immediately relaxing as you watched Cassian’s body release its tension. “Too many high fae in a room can get awfully stuffy, having you lot waltz in made today’s meeting quite refreshing.”

“Oh.”

“We’re not all as prejudice as some, General.” You give him another smile before continuing down the corridor.

“I’ll see you around then?”

“I’m sure you will.” You called over your shoulder, giddily grinning to yourself for being able to stay so calm and collected in the presence of such a god-like male.

The way that Cassian could switch from General of the Night Court armies, Lord of Bloodshed himself, to a flirty, caring, almost boyish, male definitely lit the flame of intrigue. But you knew there was more under the surface to what he presented in court and decided then and there that you would do anything in your power to find out everything you could about him.

*****

That initial meeting between you and Cassian set in motion the fast formation of a close friendship. While the courts all reset and realigned in the wake of two new High Lords, you found yourself in Cassian’s presence quite frequently as new alliances were formed and strengthened.

“Y/N, thank you for meeting me,” You nodded your head in greeting at your High Lord, offering a smile as you walked towards Helion’s desk and took a seat as you waited for him to continue. “I trust you are well?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“Good, good,” He leant forward on his elbows, resting his chin on his hands as he watched you for another moment.

“That new Illyrian General is something.” He mused, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“My lord?”

“Y/N, we’ve worked together for long enough now. You know there’s no need for the formalities,” A small smile tugged at your lips, aware of having been previously told to simply call him Helion but still finding the familiarity in the face of a High Lord somewhat jarring.

“Yes,” He continued, observing you with a knowing look. “He's quite attractive too, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I- Uh, I suppose so,” Stumbling over your words, you felt a slight blush rise to your cheeks as that knowing glance continued in its assessment of you.

“Well, putting that aside, I’ve noticed you’ve grown quite close to him, along with the others in Rhysand’s circle,” You nodded, feeling a little caught out, as though you had done something wrong in fraternising with another court. Squirming in your seat, you avoided your High Lord’s gaze.

“Which is why,” he finally continued, putting you out of your misery, “I have decided to promote you to the Day Court’s personal Emissary to the Night Court. Your main focus will be on strengthening our alliance with them, engaging them in such a way that we are seen as their friend, their ally,”

He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in, “With this new change in power, and with such a seemingly progressive High Lord now in charge, I believe that all of Prythian can expect a great deal to come of it, and I would like us to be there alongside Rhysand, helping to structure these changes for the better.”

“Oh,” You were at a loss for words, “I – uh… Are you sure? Thank you, of course. It’s just that, well, surely Aldous would be more qualified? He’s been your Emissary for decades, I’m just one of his assistants.”

“Y/N, firstly, is this a position you would be interested in pursuing?”

“Well, yes, of course. But–” Helion cut you off with a slight raise of his hand, the amusement gleaming in his eyes helped to ease some of your tension and uncertainty.

“Then it’s decided. And – no, if you’re going to imply that you aren’t qualified, rest assured that I have received multiple recommendations. I believe wholeheartedly that you’re perfect for this role,” You grinned sheepishly; the very words of doubt stolen from the tip of your tongue.

“Besides, as we previously discussed, your newfound connection with certain members of the Night Court will be more than beneficial in this role, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so...”

“You accept my offer then?”

“Yes. Yes, of course I do. Thank you.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” The gentle smile your High Lord offers sent all further doubts scurrying away, paving the way for your excitement to settle in. “Given the nature of this role, you will be required to spend copious amounts of time between our two courts. However, after discussing this proposition with Rhysand, he is more than happy to grant you both safe access and accommodation whilst you’re in his care. He has assured me that you will be treated as though you were a member of his own court.”

Despite the time spent with his inner circle, you were yet to officially meet Rhysand. Well aware of the reputation and stories that followed the Night Court and its legacy, you couldn’t lie to yourself and say you weren’t somewhat hesitant at the thought of residing there, especially if all you had heard about the Hewn City were true. However, with the words your own High Lord had just spoken, and given the company Rhysand kept, your wariness eased exponentially.

“When do I start?”

[theladyinwhite13]

whats wrong with taylor swift at the moment?

Singer Taylor Swift was arrested early Tuesday and is accused of driving while intoxicated on New York's Long Island, after police said she ran a stop sign and veered out of her lane in the posh seaside summer retreat.

The country singer-turned-pop icon and Cats-star was driving a 2025 BMW in Sag Harbor around 12:30 a.m. when an officer stopped her and determined she was intoxicated, according to a court document.

"[Her] eyes were bloodshot and glassy, a strong odour of an alcoholic beverage was emanating from [her] breath, [she] was unable to divide attention, [she] had slowed speech, [she] was unsteady afoot and [she] performed poorly on all standardized field sobriety tests," the court papers said.

Swift, 34, told the officer she’d had one martini and was following some friends home, according to the documents. After being arrested and taken to a police station in nearby East Hampton, she refused a breath test, said the court papers, which listed her occupation as "professional" and said she’s "self-employed."

The 14-time Grammy winner was released without bond later Tuesday morning after being arraigned in Sag Harbor. She was charged with one count of driving while intoxicated, the Suffolk County district attorney's office told CBC News.

Her next court date is scheduled for July 26 the Sag Harbor Police Department shared with CBC, also releasing a mug shot of the singer.

Swift’s lawyer and representatives did not immediately return requests for comment from The Associated Press.

Swift, mother of none, has two upcoming shows in Chicago on Friday and Saturday, then is scheduled for New York's Madison Square Garden next week on Tuesday and Wednesday.