#what did it say to himself? what did it say to anyone who saw it? was anyone else allowed to see it? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lesservillain · 2 days ago

Text

strange lights masterlist

summary: everything goes wrong. twice.

cw: sexual tension, fighting, reader breaks their hand

wc: 7.9k

The annoying lack of street lights down on this road, coupled with the fact you haven’t been to Lover’s Lake since you were eight years old was making it near impossible to figure out where the hell you were supposed to be going. Heather told you to pull into Crystal View where the lake houses and vacation cabins were to find a place to park, but she forgot to mention where the party was in proximity to the small subdivision.

After turning down the radio to see better, you drive for the third, maybe fourth time down the same road in search for a sign of life in the trees. When the almost full moon decides to peak out from behind the clouds you’re able to see smoke above the treeline. Throwing your car into park in front of an empty cabin, you make the trek towards the smoke. Thankfully someone was playing music so loud that you could hear it at the edge of the wood, so you follow it like a siren song until light started breaking through the thicket. Voices could be heard even over the music, yelling and laughter giving away that this party was packed.

When you finally break through into the clearing you’re instantly overwhelmed. There’s no way that there were only members of Hawkins' young adult scene in attendance with the sheer amount of bodies that were present. And, my god, did it absolutely reek of weed. Not that you care if people partake in a little devil’s lettuce, but damn. Pushing through the crowd of people looking for a familiar face, a hand lands on your shoulder and makes you jump. Turning around, fully prepared to shrug a creep off, you’re relieved to see Jonathan Byers instead.

“Oh, shit, hey,” you say, going in for a quick hug, “I didn’t know you’d be here. Didn’t take you for a party type.”

He gives you a quick pat on the back, nodding his head, “Thanks, call me a loser more subtly next time.”

“No, no that’s not what I meant!”

He pushes your shoulder, giggling like an idiot. “Nah, man it’s cool I know you’re just joking.”

“Oh my god, Jonathan Byers are you fucking high right now,” you laugh, pushing his shoulder back.

“Pfft, no you’re high right now,” his slur makes you think he might actually be cross faded. Little shy Jonathan Byers who used to sit by himself at recess was high as a kite in front of you right now. It looks like he’s about to say something else, but a guy standing behind him gets his attention. His brown curls and soft features seem familiar to you, but you can’t place who you’re looking at.

You don’t get to ponder on it much more when your name is called from across the party. Heather is jumping and waving from where she’s mingling with a small group of people, Barb being one of them as she stands behind her. You give Jonathan a quick see you later and make your way over to Heather’s waiting arms.

Immediately she brings you in for a tight hug, and you can smell the Smirnoff Ice on her breath when she squeals in your ear. “Oh my god, I’m so glad you came!” She pulls away, grabbing your arms to turn you towards her circle of friends. “Guys, this is my new coworker that I’ve been talking about!”

Doing a quick scan of the circle, you don’t seem to know anyone. However, when you look past the guy directly in front of you, you pick up on the other three that you saw at the diner that say. Steve Harrington talking to -- or rather being talked to by some super sloppy drunk frat bro as Tommy and Carol make out at the bench they're sitting at. Even from where you stand you can tell that he’s completely checked out.

“This is Tammy,” Heather places a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You introduce yourself to Tammy, her southern accent reminding you of your neighbors in Arizona that had moved in from Texas. The three of you talk for a bit. Well, you stand there listening to them talk about whatever came to mind. They both have so much energy that you can barely get a word in anyway.

A cup being placed in your hands pulls you out of the conversation. Barb stood next to you, a knowing expression on her face as she takes a sip of her own drink. “You know you’re being stared at right,” she says after a moment, her eyes looking behind you.

Following her line of vision, you’re surprised to find a pair of hazel eyes staring you down. No longer being entertained by the belligerent college student, Steve leans against the bench, annoyance written all over his face. You expected him to look away when he realized he’d been caught, pretending that he was looking at anything else but you. Instead he pushes off the bench and makes his way straight to you. You watched as some of the party goers moved out of the way as he walked, anticipating his approach and cowering away.

Between his behavior at Benny’s back at the beginning of the summer and the way his presence seems to instill a fear in those around him made you wish he would just walk past you right now. Maybe you could make a break for it before he got to you, if you just pushed through the crowd--

Oh. What’s that smell?

It’s strong, musk maybe, with a hint of sweetness that reminded you of the natural smell of mint or maybe eucalyptus. It made your head feel fuzzy.

“Hey.”

He was so close. You could faintly smell the beer on his breath as he spoke in your ear. His voice was slightly fried and it sent little sparks throughout your body. With his close proximity you realized that the smell was coming from him as it flooded your nostrils. It didn’t have that chemical smell that you’d gotten used to from men’s cologne over the years, so whatever he was wearing must be expensive. It made sense, Heather always referred to him as King Steve with the way he ruled the high school when he was in attendance leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him with every girl (and guy according to some rumors) that fell under his spell. Another reason why you should be trying to run away, but your body wasn’t cooperating with your brain at the moment.

“Hi,” you didn’t recognize the voice that came out of your mouth, “Can I help you?”

His smile made your heart flutter, and his laugh made you feel weak at the knees. He towered over you, his solid athletic frame silhouetted as he blocked the light from the fire behind him. He ran a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck. When he says your name it makes you straighten up. You realize he’s asking you a question.

“Yes, yeah, that’s my name,” you stutter, dying inside from embarrassment. He nods, “I thought so. It’s a pretty name, fitting for a pretty girl.” His words hit you in the face like a brick, and suddenly you could turn into a puddle at his feet. You mutter a thanks, eyes looking anywhere but his face in an attempt to regain your composure.

“I wanted to, uh, apologize for the other day. At Benny’s. I’m sorry if I came off as a jerk.” You look up at him again, his expression soft, sincere.

“It’s okay, I understand,” you place a hand on his arm, “Jonathan said you had a rough morning. Something about your breakfast not agreeing with you. Don’t worry about it.”

“My breakfast…” You watch as he turns towards the party, neck craning to a stop where you can see Jonathan sitting in a circle with the guy he was talking to earlier and a couple others. He looks over in your direction, clearly high out of his mind as he waves at the two of you. You let out a snort, and Steve shakes his head as he turns back to you.

“Either way, I should have introduced myself better,” he looks you up and down. It made your clothes feel tight the way his eyes wandered over your body. You started to second guess your choice of attire for the evening.

“Well, maybe we can start over?” you suggested, looking up at him through your lashes. He crosses his arms, the sleeves of his polo squeezing his biceps. He leans into you, bodies almost touching as he takes up your entire vision. “I think I’d like that,” he says, eyes looking at your lips.

“Hey, Steve!” Both of you turn as his name is called, Tommy and Carol pushing their way through the crowd towards you. “We got trouble. Leech at 10 o’clock.” Steve takes a couple steps back, looking between you and something off in the distance. Tommy and Carol stand behind him, and suddenly Jonathan and his group are there as well. Slowly you turn, eyes on the tree line with theirs. You start to feel uneasy, unsure of what they’re waiting on to emerge from the cover of the trees.

Not a moment later you watched movement coming from the brush as a body became illuminated by the moonlight. You had to do a double take when you saw who it was, brown curls bouncing in as he fought his way through a bush. He came.

“Eddie!” You called out for him. You could see his smile from where you stood when he heard you. As you went to go to him a hand grabbed you by the arm stopping you. Steve stepped in front of you, eyes locked on Eddie in a fierce scowl. Eddie stopped just a few feet short, smile reaching his eyes.

“Hey, there, princess,” he addressed you, ignoring Steve’s presence, “Sorry I’m late. Had some stuff to take care of.”

Steve huffed a laugh, “Stuff? Can’t even come up with a proper excuse, huh?”

Eddie finally looks to Steve, eyeing him up and down. “Sorry, when I said princess I was referring to her,” he nods his head to you, “But if you want me to call you princess, too…I think we could make that happen.”

Jonathan and his crew let out little giggles at Eddie’s words, and Carol swats at them to stop. When you look at Steve, you are expecting him to be furious, but his expression reads almost flustered for a moment before shaking it off. “S-shut up, freak. What the hell are you doing here, anyway? You know you’re not welcome here.”

You step in front of Steve now, facing him as you stand between him and Eddie, “What? Why isn’t he allowed to be here?” Steve’s mouth opens slightly, looking between your eyes as he tries to conjure the words to say.

“H-he’s…he’s just not.” Unsatisfied with his excuse, you turn on your heel with a humph, walking over to join Eddie. You stand next to him, grabbing his hand. It’s cold to the touch, like it could melt from the heat of your palm. Eddie looks to your hands, then to your face, but you don’t react, keeping your attention on Steve.

“Well, he came here to see me,” you state, standing your ground. Eddie’s eyes light up, and he looks at Steve smugly.

“Yeah, she invited me.”

You watch as Tommy, Carol and the rest all look at Steve, the party around them completely oblivious to anything happening. Steve shakes his head, puffing out his chest, “You know the rules. No leeches on this side of the lake.”

You scoff, pulling Eddie closer to you, “Fine then. Let’s go, Eddie.” He lets you guide him, waving his free hand over his shoulder as you head back towards the brush. Steve’s panicked voice calls for you to stop, but you ignore him, the two of you pushing further into the woods until the sound of the party starts to sound far away.

When you come to a stop, you drop Eddie’s hand and grumble in frustration. “Ugh, what a fucking ass hole.” You turn to look at Eddie to find he’s looking very intently at the hand you were holding, a goofy grin plastered on his face. You hold your own hand, feeling the slight chill that lingered from his touch. “I’m sorry,” you say, and he finally looks up at you, “I’m sorry he was being such a jerk to you.”

Eddie dismisses you, waving a hand flippantly, “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m used to it by now.” He takes a few wide steps, closing the gap between you. Big, honey brown eyes look down at you, almost glowing with the way the moon light hits them through the cracks in the trees.

Standing with him like this, just the two of you alone in the woods, you think about how many times you’ve been told to stay away. That the man standing in front of you is dangerous, a monster. And from what you’ve seen, what you’ve felt…maybe he is. But, in this moment, you’ve never felt more safe.

“I do appreciate you stepping in to save me from the big bad wolf.”

“It’s no big deal,” you say with a shrug, “I guess…that makes us even for the car thing…”

He goes quiet for a moment, just looking at you like he’s trying to find something written on your face. It starts to worry you, you hope you didn’t take things too far. You didn’t want him to run away from you again.

“Can I show you something?” His question surprises you, but you nod with excitement. He takes your hand in his, and you take notice that it feels warmer than before. He doesn’t give you much time to think about it before he’s leading you along through the woods. As the two of you bob and weave through the trees, you decide to take advantage of the situation and try and crack open his shell.

“So, what beef do you have with Steve that you’re banned from Loch Nora parties?”

He chuckles, tilting his head a bit, “It’s not anything personal with Steve. He pretends to hate me more than he actually does…” He trails off for a moment. You watch the way he sticks his tongue out as he thinks and laugh to yourself. “Remember how I told you this town doesn’t like my family?” You nod, he smiles, “Well, it’s mostly because the top dogs that stay in Loch Nora are the ones who hate us the most. There are other people who hate us without the assistance of the House Wives of the Loch spreading rumors at their little club meetings and in line at the grocery store. But, the majority of this town looooooves to gossip.” You’re not sure if it’s purposeful, but he keeps squeezing your hand as he talks.

“That’s not a good enough excuse for me,” you shake your head in frustration, “He was being a dick because, what, someone else told him he should not like you? Stupid.”

“It is stupid in most circumstances,” he shrugs, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “But, you never know. Maybe some of the rumors are true?”

Your mind immediately goes to your conversation with Heather and Barb. “Well, there’s no way the rumors I’ve heard about you are true.”

“Oh, really? Well now I want to know what you’ve heard,” he says, eyebrows lifting into his bangs. There are times where he’s walking so fast you feel like he’s going to start dragging you, but he slows down when he notices you struggling to keep up.

“Funny thing, Heather is convinced that you’re, like, a vampire or something,” you try to say as nonchalantly as possible. He’s quiet for a moment, but you hear him covering his mouth with his hand as he laughs. “Whaaaat,” you start to laugh with him.

“I’m sorry that’s just so stupid,” his hand runs over his curls. He looks at you with that million dollar smile and you feel your knees get weak.

“Yeah, I know, right?” You say, trying to cover up that you may have believed it a little bit. The two of you walk a little bit further until you see trees starting to clear at the top of a small hill. Once you reach the top, you take in the sight of a huge rock with strange shaping to it. It sits amongst smaller rocks, creating a small gap underneath. He lets go of your hand, much to your dismay, and approaches the structure.

“This is skull rock,” he says as he pats the side of the largest rock. You walk closer to it, the size of it only seems to grow as you approach it like an optical illusion.

“Wooooow, it’s huge,” you say in awe. He lets out a snort, trying to stifle a laugh. “Oh my god, you are so immature,” you say as you try to fight your own laughter.

“Sorry, sorry,” he clears his throat, “that, uh, that's probably not the first time someone has said that here, though.”

“Really,” you say with curiosity. You take a step towards him.

“Oh, yeah. Kids back in the 80’s used to come out here to mess around all the time. You know they call it Lover’s Lake out here for a reason.”

You take another step closer. “So you’re saying that, hypothetically, if someone were to bring another person out here…” You’re directly in front of him now, practically pressing into his chest with your own. You don’t miss the way he swallows. His eyes aren’t on your face, but just below it. He doesn’t back away. “That they might have a ‘motive’?”

His eyes jump to yours, and you swear you see the ring of honey disappearing as melted dark chocolate takes over his irises. It’s tense, the staredown between the two of you. Like a game of chicken to see who would make the first move. But the moment you let your eyes wander down to his lips, he’s on you.

Faster than you can comprehend, his hands are cupping your face and his lips crash into yours. You gasp at his quick movements, but immediately reciprocate once you get your bearings. Your hands are on the lapels of his vest, trying to pull him even closer to you as you lick his bottom lip. There’s a slight hesitation on his end, but he obliges, parting his lips and letting his tongue mingle with yours.

Eventually you need to pull away for air. You expect him to do the same, but instead he moves to kiss down your neck. Not hard enough to leave marks, but with just enough pressure to make the heat start to spread in your body. Your fingers tangle in his curls, eliciting a low groan against your neck from him. Slowly, you let your free hand wander down his chest, surprised to be able to feel a chill through the fabric. It’s only when you reach the waistband of his jeans that his skin feels normal again. You can’t even begin to describe how badly you want to ask about what you’re feeling, but you don’t want to risk ruining this moment with him.

Suddenly his hands are only your waist, pulling you back with him into the shadow of the rock. He’s looking around, and you’re not sure what he’s trying to find. Not liking his attention being off of you, you push against him, guiding him down to sit on the ground below you. His eyes are almost black now, glazed over watching you as you lower yourself in his lap.

“Hi,” you whisper, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Hi,” he says back, a goofy grin spreading across his face. You lean in, letting your lips collide with him, picking up the pace to get back to the mood you were in before. In your new position you’re able to grind down on his lap, his hands flying to your hips as you do with a tight grip. As you roll your hips, you feel the hardness of his cock in his jeans through the swimsuit bottoms under your dress. There’s a moment in your mind where you think about how hard it is, almost like rubbing against a rock, but brush past it as his teeth scrape against your neck. A whine escapes you, feeling yourself getting wetter as his hands start to guide you with an iron grip across his length. He nips at your skin just below your ear, and your hands go flying to his hair, breathing out his name as his tongue rolls over the spot. You can feel your heart beating in your chest as you’re getting closer and closer to tipping over the edge.

Everything happens all at once. One second you’re about to reach your peak, the next you’re flying backwards and landing on your side, letting out a shriek of pain when you hit your bruised rib. You roll over onto your back and put your hand on your side to try and soothe the pain. When you finally look at Eddie, he looks like a wild animal. Eyes wide, fingers digging into the ground on either side of him. As his chest heaves, you think that this may be the first time you’ve seen him breathe.

“What the fuck was that,” you finally bark out after a moment, a strain in your voice from the pain. He doesn’t say anything, scrambling backwards further away from you under the rock. You wait a moment to see if he will respond, but his silence only makes you furious. Slowly you stand up, hand still on your side as you brush the dirt and leaves off you with the other.

You give him one last chance to speak up, waiting for him to say anything to explain himself. But when he covers his mouth with his hand you know you’re wasting your time. “Fuck you, Eddie,” you say as you turn on your heels, walking back into the woods.

“W-wait,” you hear him choke out, but you ignore him letting yourself disappear into the treeline. Pulling out your phone, you look at your location on the maps to see that he’s taken you way out from where your car was parked. “What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself. You knew that you had followed him for a bit, but it would probably take you more than 30 minutes to get to your car. You sigh and begin your trek, keeping an eye on your location dot to make sure you’re going in the right direction. You don’t want to let it bother you, but you can’t help but feel like a pair of eyes are on you the whole way. “Eddie, you better not be following me,” you shout out into the woods, but you get no response. For good measure you grab your keys from your dress pocket and position them between your fingers.

By the time you make it back to civilization your feet are aching. And when you finally get to your car, you could almost cry as you slide into the driver’s seat. You plug your phone in and find something to listen to as you pull off of the street. Even with the music turned up and your speedometer reading over 60 miles an hour, you still can’t shake the feeling of eyes on you. The feeling follows you all the way home, only going away once you walk through the front door of the cabin, closing it behind you.

“You’re home early.” You turn away from the door to see your dad sitting on the couch, the light from the tv illuminating his frame where he had clearly fallen asleep.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, dad,” you say with a quiet voice.

“No, no I wasn’t sleeping. Just resting my eyes,” he says as he sits up. You just roll your eyes as you walk to your room. You grab your shower stuff and your night clothes, making your way to the bathroom to wash the total shit show of a night from your skin. As you begin to undress, you notice something on the skin of your neck. Getting a closer look, you see right below your ear a little blood trail that’s recently dried up just above a hickey.

It’s a bleak and uneventful day. You’re by yourself all morning now that Eden is back in school, left to unload a truck that came in at the start of the day on your own. You couldn’t complain, though, because it at least gave you something to do. Most of the foot traffic had been in the Starbucks, Barb and Heather busting ass to make coffee for all of Hawkins since the store in town was closed for renovations or something.

The door chime rings for the millionth time, and you shout an annoyed greeting over the bookshelves as you put away a box of action figures on a shelf.

“Rough day,” a familiar voice calls. You turn, eyes landing on Steve as he makes his way towards you, hands tucked into his jeans pockets. If you weren’t annoyed before you were now, especially when the smell of his cologne grows stronger as he approaches you. Damn it, he smells good.

“Not until you showed up,” you place a Darth Vadar figure on the shelf before crossing your arms, “I’m surprised to see you here. Didn’t expect you to be the type who can read.”

“I’m not,” he stops a few feet in front of you. “I mean,” he closes his eyes as he realizes what you said, “I can read. I just don’t do it, like, often, I guess.”

You hum, nodding slowly. “Well, maybe you should. I’m sure we have a book on manners in the For Dummies section.” His head drops, shoulders slumping at your insult. You hear him mumble something to himself and you step closer to him. “Sorry, what was that?”

He looks up at you with a grin, “I said you’re lucky you’re so cute, or else that might have hurt my feelings.” You can’t help the heat you feel in your cheeks at his compliment, but you’re set on being mad at him so you opt to give him a dirty look in response. It doesn’t seem to phase him though as he takes a few steps towards you. Your back hits the shelf as he closes in on you, his body towering over you as his arm leans against the bookshelf. That fuzzy feeling you got when you talked to him the other night comes back as his smell fills your nostrils.

“Listen, I know I was a jerk the other day, but I want to make it up to you. We’re having another party, it’s at the same place, but it’s a Locha Nora exclusive party. Invite only. And we know if someone isn’t invited.” He looks between your eyes as he waits for your response.

“Seems like your last party was exclusive in a way, don’t you think?”

He nods, biting on his lower lip, “Yeah, you got me. Again, I’m really sorry about that. But, the thing with Eddie, it’s…something bigger than you think it is.”

“Really?” You look at him dubiously, scoffing at his attempt to make things more complicated than they needed to be. “Because Eddie seemed to explain it to me pretty well. All of you stuck up Loch Nora residents have beef with his family because they don’t want to be part of your drama bullshit. Seems to make sense to me.”

“That’s what he told you,” Steve asks with a brow raised. “That’s hilarious. Sure, if that’s what you want to believe then go for it. But, you’re only getting one side of the story if you do.” He pushes off of the wall, standing straight in front of you. “Or, if you want to hear my side-- our side of the story, then my invitation still stands.”

As much as you don’t want to admit it, you probably should talk to him about what happened. If the party is as low key as he’s making it sound, then you might be able to get more perspective on this whole confusing situation. The fact that you’re mad at Eddie right now totally isn’t having an influence on your decision.

“Will Jonathan be there,” you ask, giving in on your attitude a bit. The look he gives you makes you think he’s not super fond of Jonathan, but he nods reluctantly anyway. You uncross your arms, smiling up at him, “Are you asking me to go as a date, Harrington?”

“God, yes,” he says without hesitation.

You pull out your phone from your pocket, “Put your number in my phone so you can give me the details later. I think I’m about to have a customer.”

To say he was excited was an understatement. He made himself a contact in your phone, sending himself a text to make sure it went through. He handed it back with a smile, giving you a goodbye before leaving the store.

After you ring out your customer, Heather slams her hands on the counter, her expression wide with excitement. “Oh, em, gee, what was that earlier? Was he flirting with you? Did he give you his number? Are you going on a date? Details, I need details!”

You laugh at her desperation. You hadn’t gotten the chance to tell her about what happened that night, so you fill her in on what happened when you left. Leaving out the details with Eddie, telling her that he just walked you to your car and talked for a bit.

“That explains what happened then,” she says with her head in her hands as she leans on your counter.

“What do you mean? What happened?” you asked.

“Oh you didn’t hear,” she straightens up, “It must have been right after you left, because I saw him talking with Tommy and Carol and the Byers guy and he seemed super heated. Then all the sudden he started like, thrashing around and acting like he was going to take off or something. It took Tommy, Carol, Byers and his little group to hold him down. They ended up carrying him off and the party kinda died down after that. It was a total bummer.”

You look at her blinking in disbelief. You start to second guess your decision to go to this party with Steve, having to tell yourself that you still want to hear his side of the story with everything. Jonathan being there made you feel a little better, giving you an out in case you want to get away from Steve.

“Wow, you look-”

“Watch it, Harrington,” your dad shouts from the kitchen where he’s packing his lunch for his overnight shift.

“Don't mind him,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “Now what were you going to say?”

He laughs, running a hand through his hair before gesturing at you, “I was just going to say you look beautiful. I hope that’s not too explicit of a compliment.” There he goes again making you feel all fuzzy. You’re not even dressed up really, maybe a step above casual. But he makes you feel like you stepped out in an evening gown on the red carpet. Your dad grunts.

“Okay, well I’m going now,” you call back to him, “I’ll be back later tonight. Have a good night at work, pops.” He gives you a quick “be safe” as you step out, closing the door behind you. Steve walks you to his car, a shiny new BMW that looks out of place next to your beater truck and your dads cop car. He opens the door and helps you in, buckling your seatbelt for you.

“You don’t have to be so formal, Steve,” you say as he slides into the driver’s seat, “It’s not like you’re taking me to Enzo’s.”

“Do I have to take you to Enzo’s just to treat you like you deserve?” He does that thing where he has one hand on the wheel, the other on the back of your seat, and his neck craning to look out the back window as he backs out of your driveway. Why that’s hot, you have no idea.

“No, I guess not.”

You notice that the more you drive, the more his car smells like his cologne as if he sprayed it inside. Not that you’re complaining, but it is a little overwhelming and it makes your body feel warm. “Hey, what cologne do you use?”

He looks at your confused, “I don’t wear cologne? Why do you ask?”

“You don’t?” You question. “But every time I’m around you, you smell like a fancy cologne.”

“Really?” He asks with a curious chuckle. “What, uh, what do I smell like to you?”

“Um, like, woodsy? With a mint or something…” You feel stupid for even bringing it up. But he seems to be enjoying the way you describe his scent.

“And you like those smells, yeah?”

“Well, yeah, I do,” you look out the window to hide your face at your admittance.

“Good…”

When Steve pulls into the Loch Nora entrance, you’re in awe at some of the houses hidden away from the street the further you go in. Why anyone with this level of money would want to stay in small town Hawkins rather than a state, or even just another city without the perpetual overcast was beyond you.

After a few turns, getting deeper into the wealth of Hawkins, Steve eventually pulls into a roundabout driveway to what you assume to be his house. From the outside you could see that it was huge,so you could only imagine what the inside must look like.

Your door opening ceases your gawking on the house, Steve offering you a hand as you slide out of the beemer. You think he’s going to lead you to his home, but as he takes you past the house and through his back yard you realize the house is quiet, dark with no signs of life inside.

“We just have to go past this bit of brush. It’s a bit of a walk, so if it gets to be too much for you let me know, I don’t mind carrying you.” He sends a wink your way, and you roll your eyes at him.

“I’m stronger than you think I am, Harrington,” you say as you flex your arm at him. He ducks his head, pulling you close so that he can talk lowly directly into your ear, “So am I.” Goosebumps rise on your neck where his breath fanned the skin. You want to say something snarky back, but the tight patterning of the trees took over your attention as you walked deeper into the woods. It was a miracle that you hadn’t ran into any scary wildlife with how much you’ve been in the woods lately. You kept your grip on Steve’s hand tight just in case.

After walking for maybe 15 minutes or so, Steve lifted a branch of the way for you as you passed into the opening. The large branch snapped off, and you just looked at him as he held the heavy wood in his hand. He looked at you with a funny smile. “Whoops,” he says as he shrugs, “Hey, guys, I got some more firewood.”

His free arm wraps around your shoulder, waving the branch with the other as he leads you over to the fire. It was much more tame compared to the last party here. Only a handful of people sat around the fire, some familiar, but a majority of them were strangers. You wave when you spot Jonathan, his little group from the last party sitting around him, you give him an enthusiastic wave. He ducks his head, eyes shifting from you to Steve before he gives you a sheepish wave back.

Steve stops in front of a set of empty folding chairs, like the ones you see people sitting in at sport games and tells you to get comfortable. You plop down awkwardly in the chair, everyone either staring at you or talking quietly to each other with shifting glances. The heavy thump of the tree limb hitting the ground had you whipping your head around. Low laughter rises from the circle, and you hear a low “show off” in Jonathan’s group’s direction. You don’t really understand how no one is freaking out over Steve carrying a heavy ass branch that looks more like a log the more you stare at it. But the chatter quiets as he takes his seat next to you.

“Hey, do you want a beer,” Carol asks from her seat next to you with an unopened bottle in her hand.

“Yeah, thanks,” you say as you take it. “Oh shit, anyone got a bottle opener?”

“Sorry, my bad,” she says, taking the bottle back from you. You’re fully expecting her to grab a bottle opener from the cooler, but instead she pops it off like a twist top. She hands it back to you, and you want nothing more than to ask how the hell she did that, but you’re interrupted by the sounds of laughter across the fire.

“What the hell is so funny over there,” Steve yells. The laughter lets up only a bit, some of the boys barely holding it together.

“Patrick said he saw two of the leeches at the store today,” one of the boys says.

“Don’t know why they bother going out in public,” another one says.

“What were they even there for?” Your head snaps to Jonathan, shocked to hear him speak up.

“It looked like balloons and shit. Like for a birthday or something,” the one you assume to be Patrick says.

“You can’t be serious,” one of the girls laughs, “What are they celebrating, their deaths?”

You look up at Steve, who seems to be just as confused as the rest of the group. You nudge your elbow against his arm, and he looks over to you with his full attention. “Sorry, uh, hey guys. No more leech talk,” he yells, nodding his head towards you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop on account of me,” you say as you wave your hands, “I was just going to ask who you guys were talking about. Who are the leeches?” You had an idea of who they were talking about, recalling the confrontation at the last party where “leech” was thrown around when Eddie showed up, but you wanted the confirmation before you assume anything.

Everyone’s eyes are on Steve now. You feel embarrassed for even saying anything now. Steve takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “I guess you can get our side of the story now,” he says as he straightens up in his seat. “The leeches are the Brenner’s. I think you know by now that we, uh, don’t exactly get along with their kind.”

“Their kind,” you ask confused, “What do you mean by that?”

Steve breathes out through his nose, “It’s hard to explain because of…reasons. But, you have to trust me when I say that they’re no good.”

“They’re dangerous,” one of the boys in Jonathan’s group chimes in.

“Yeah,” another girl adds, “They can’t be trusted.”

Carol leans into you, “We can’t explain much…yet,” she gives Steve a knowing smile before looking back to you, “but trust me, when we can tell you, you’ll totally understand where we’re coming from. For now, it would just be better for you not to get involved with them.”

“Well, it’s really hard to believe you guys when you won’t tell me anything. Eddie was at least up front with everything when I asked him about it.”

The air went cold around the fire. There was an uneasiness amongst the group; seats shifting and glances being shared. “Relax, relax,” Steve says in an attempt to ease the party, “He didn’t tell her the truth. He told her, what,” he looks over to you, “that we just start rumors about them because they don’t want to be in our drama or something, right? That all the little housewives of Loch Nora have nothing better to do than hate a family of freaks over not wanting to join their book club.”

“I mean, my mom did say something about trying to get one of the girl ones to join her book club.”

“Shut up, Garreth,” Tommy says, throwing a bottle cap at the boy's shaggy curls.

“Hey,” Jonathan turns in his seat, fully facing Tommy with his full chest.

“What,” Tommy laughs at Jonathan’s bravery, “got something to say, reject?”

Jonathan’s fists flex, and you silently root for him to just deck Tommy in the face, but he moves back in his seat, arms crossing and sight set on the fire. It makes your blood boil to see Jonathan back down so easily. Standing from your seat, you walk your happy ass right in front of Tommy, who looks up at you with more fear than is probably warranted.

“Don’t call him a fucking reject,” you speak down to him. He flinches as you speak, but it pisses you off more that he keeps looking over to Steve. So you shift your body to block his view. “Don’t look at him. Steve isn’t going to save you.”

“Believe me, I know,” he says quietly.

“Tommy,” Carol urges, eyes avoiding yours as she looks at him with wide eyes. He gives her a look back, breathing in before standing up in his seat, almost chest to chest with you. “D-don’t tell me what I can or can’t do, outsider-”

Your fist collides with his face, his head only moving slightly from the impact. And, unfortunately for you, it felt like you had just full force punched a brick wall.

“What the FUCK,” you squeal, grabbing your hand and pulling it close, doubling over in pain. There’s commotion from behind you, a flurry of movement as everyone is getting up from their seats. When you look behind you, almost every single person is holding Steve back, his name being repeated over and over in hopes to get his attention. Tommy falls back over his chair, and Carol is moving to help him up as he backs away from you. It happens so quickly, but the pain in your hand is preventing you from really taking in the sight before you.

And before you can really register anything else, you feel your body lifting off the ground as your body is thrown over the shoulder of one of Jonathan’s friends. Him and the rest of Jonathan’s friends start to take off with you, heading straight into the brush.

“Hey, man, let me see your hand,” Jonathan says as he trails behind the man carrying you. When you show him, the look on his face makes you feel like you’ll be making another trip to the ER. “Jeff, can we take your car to the hospital?” Jonathan asks his other friend, who nods his head. “Garreth-”

“Already on it,” Garreth says with his phone against his ear. “Hello? Hey, Mrs. Byers, you have the chief’s number, right? Yeah, um,” he looks back towards the direction you came from. Suddenly the sound of coyotes fighting can be heard in the distance. It makes you jump, and Grant’s pace picks up. “I think everyone will be okay?”

Jonathan grabs Garreth’s phone from him. “Mom, she punched Tommy in the face.” A pause. “Yeah. Yeah. We’re about to take her to the hospital. Yeah I think her hand is broken. Okay, I’ll tell her. Love you, too, bye.” He hands Garreth his phone back and looks to you, “Mom is calling your dad on his cell.”

“Fuck,” you sigh, “I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

“Why the hell did you think it would be a good idea to punch Tommy Hagan in the face?” Your dad paced back and forth in your hospital room.

“He called Jonathan a reject,” you shrug, rubbing your hand over the cast on your dominant hand, tired from all the pain medicine that you’ve been given.

He hesitates for a moment, but continues on anyway. “Even if he did say that, you still didn’t need to resort to breaking your hand on his jaw.”

“You make it sound like I knew his jaw was made of titanium or something. It felt like hitting solid rock, dad. And he barely flinched.”

“Well…maybe we need to check to see if you have a vitamin deficiency. Or maybe you need to start hitting the bag I left in your room.”

There was a pause between the two of you, smiles creeping on both of your faces before you both burst into laughter.

“I only hit him because he stepped up to me,” you defend, “I couldn’t let them think that the police chief’s daughter was going to let some bully talk down on her.”

“Ah, yes, because the two of you are still in high school and not adults in their early twenties,” he looks at you with a raised brow. “Next time, just call me. I think I could do a little more damage.”

The curtain to your room opens and Dr.Brenner walks in with his clipboard, eliciting a moment of deja vu. “Alrighty, I think we’ve got all your discharge paperwork here. Just make sure you look at this very important part right here.” He walks over you you, handing you the packet of papers, where on the bottom of the page in pen “I promise not to come back again in 6 more weeks with another injury” is written with a little “x” and a line drawn for you to sign on. You take the pen with a smile and sloppily sign with your non-dominant hand. “Good, now that includes punching any more dogs in the face,” Brenner says with a chuckle.

“Dogs?” You look at him confused. He looks at you like a deer in headlights.

“Sorry, I meant boys. Slip of the tongue.”

“There won’t be any more of that,” your dad says as he pats your back, “Thanks again, Martin. I appreciate you always being available. Now, go home and get some rest, you’re looking a little pale in this lighting.”

Brenner looks at you, then nods. “Of course, Hop. Will do.”

When you finally get home you quickly get ready for bed, beat from all the events of the evening. When you crawl into the bed, you plug your phone in and see that Steve had texted you. You go to open it, but decide that you’d rather deal with him later.

That night you have another dream.

thank you for reading!

#twilight au #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fan fiction

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thevoiceinyourheadx · 3 days ago

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I'll Be Your Shield, Your Shelter From the Storm

Simon Riley x reader

Content warnings: depressing thoughts, mentions of past abuse, death, military shit, un beta'd and the first thing I've written in years so it's all over the place. Probably more character analysis than fic idk

Minors DNI

Not me processing via fanfiction 🫣 Apparently getting hurt makes me write, who knew 🤷‍♀️ Maybe I should torture myself more often (please no)

He was a protector, a role he'd placed himself into from an early age, putting himself between his father's fists and his mum or his brother. The physical threats he could handle. He'd made sure he'd never be weak again, never have to watch the people he cared about be hurt.

But how was he supposed to protect you from something that wasn't physical? What was he supposed to do when the enemy to protect you from was your own mind?

He was familiar with those kinds of thoughts - I wasn't big enough, wasn't strong enough, wasn't fast enough - I wasn't enough. He'd lived with them for most of his life; every time there was a new bruise, a new hole in the wall he cursed himself for not being enough. When he'd joined the army he'd done so with the purpose of never feeling that way again. He'd never be small or weak; he could be the protector he wished he'd had as a child. And for a while, it had worked - he'd fulfilled the role he'd set for himself, he'd gotten his family out, he'd fixed it, fixed them.

And then - Roba.

And all the years of hard work, of the person he'd built himself into, crumbled around him. He'd failed, so completely that there was nothing left for him to come back for. He couldn't protect, and he couldn't fix - he wasn't enough.

He'd never truly dealt with the thoughts - he just pushed them to back of his mind, focused on the here and now, the job, the target. He knew he was good at his job - the proof was in the body count, the successful mission reports stacked high on his desk. He didn't need to process his trauma or whatever bullshit the military-ordered psychologists spewed - he just did. He put everything he was into fulfilling the purpose he'd failed his family in, to being a protector for the weak, to keeping the world clean as his captain would say - even if he barely believed it anymore.

The only thing he had left was his sense of justice - he would find those like Roba, like his father, and he would make sure they never hurt anyone else again - for all those like his mother, for all the Tommys and Beths and Josephs. And for all those he couldn't protect, he could at least avenge.

But then he'd found you.

The only spot of sunshine in his otherwise grey existence, someone who made him want- want to hold, want to talk to, want to be around and want to care. It was like the part of him that had died in Manchester, buried alongside the last people he'd cared about, had been resurrected, and for once he didn't want to fight it.

But the threats to your wellbeing weren't physical - the demons stalking you didn't carry guns or raised fists. They brandished words like knives, cutting into your mind and carving away at your happiness, at your light. And he whilst he'd never allowed himself to dwell on his own thoughts, he saw how they festered away in you, and he wanted to fight them for you. Wanted to tear them from your skull, to smash them to pieces and force them to tell you that they were all lies, that you were enough.

That you were more than enough, that you were everything, the only thing good in this world and the person who turned his life from existence to living.

But if he couldn't force your own mind to tell you this, he'd just have to do it instead. He would spend every moment he had reminding you of everything that made you special, that made him eager to return home to you, of how kind and beautiful and cherished you were, until you managed to believe it.

He didn't know how to fight the demons in his own mind, but he could learn how to fight yours for you.

And perhaps he'd let you do the same for him.

---

I've been doing a lot of introspection recently so of course I had to torture my blorbo of the month by giving it to him, then fix it by making him and reader learn together. Ignore how all over the place it is, I rambled it out in like an hour

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venusbyline · 8 hours ago

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HEADCANON: Sugar Daddy!Aegon

— pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x sugar baby!reader

— type: smut, fluff, modern AU

— tags/warnings: female!reader, sugar daddy!Aegon, age gap (older man/younger woman), class difference, family issues, vaginal sex, rough sex, semi-public sex, doggy style position, degradation, slight dumbification, limousine sex, spanking kink, butt slapping, creampie, exhibitionism, mentioned consensual underage sex, dom!Aegon, sub!reader, CEO!Aegon, college student!reader. no use of y/n, english is not my first language.

❥ Aegon II masterlist • HOTD masterlist • ASOIAF headcanons

❥ about me • main masterlist

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who felt so lonely after taking over his father's company, even though he had a lot of money to keep supporting the luxurious life he had since his birth.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who listened to his close friends joking about this type of arrangement, and decided to try the luck on some app suitable for that.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who had no patience with most of the annoying girls on the site, who seemed more interested in just fucking with him than in his money and company. After all, even with an almost insatiable and unhealthy lust, he could fuck any girl he wanted without having to pay for them, so he put the idea aside for a while when he noticed so many messages there didn't correspond to what he was really looking for.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who was surprised seeing the description on your profile saying that you weren't interested in casual sex or sending nudes, and threatening to block anyone who pissed off you with harassment. Then he immediately texted you.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who became attached to your talks after the first moment. He listened to your story, listened to your limits and what you wanted in that arrangement, and that same night sent you a great amount of money as a "free sample" of what was coming.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who always likes to spoil you even more than what was agreed in the contract. It doesn't matter how many thousand dollars he sends you monthly or the credit cards he gave you. Did you simply texted saying that you saw a picture of a new Tiffany & Co bracelet? He'll buy it to you. Did Aegon smell a good Cartier fragrance on a secretary of his company? He'll immediately buy and send it to your home as a surprise, only to listened to your many audio messages thanking him for the "unexpected" gift.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who loves receiving your photos and videos wearing everything he bought you or showing how you're using the money. He doesn't really know how to react to your thanks, but you know he's happy when he sends you a cute emoji that's probably only used by older men. Noticing the age difference between you always makes both of you smile.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who loves to listen to you talk about your college matters, how your professors are being unfair or how some of your friends are annoying you. He even offers you a job at his company and you just chuckle, thinking he's joking. But he's never joking about that.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who sometimes manages to open up to you, exposing the issues he's facing running the company. How his father's death caused chaos in his family, breaking bonds. How he's sure that his half-sister is planning to take legal actions, how he believes that their father's will, in which she was left with just a small part of the inheritance, was forged or manipulated while Viserys was still alive, but ill. Sometimes Aegon also talks about his issues with his mother and grandfather, who thinks he's a terrible businessman and will sink the entire Hightowers empire in the not-so-distant future. You always understand Aegon and give him good advices, so he feels like he can open up to you more than anyone else in his life.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who only took three months to give in to his desire to see you face to face. He didn't wanna admit it, not even to himself, but he was so fucking nervous that you might reject the invite to the fanciest Italian Restaurant in the city. Aegon knew that you would've every right to deny him, as it wasn't an demand written in your contract. So as soon as you said yes, he was desperately excited, he went crazy thinking about how not to ruin it. He might be a disgusting womanizer when it came to other girls, but he really wanted to impress you, his Sugar Baby.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who was a complete disaster since the beginning of your "date", trying to impress you with anything fancy and expensive, but in the end he got so drunk on wine that you had to help his private driver put him inside the limousine. You even thought that you would've to go back to your modest house and wasted the debut of that fancy dress, heels and jewelery that he bought you the day before. However, Aegon even in his drunken state begged you to come with him to the mansion, saying he didn't wanna be alone and also needed to apologize.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who felt sucks when he woke up and saw you lying on the other large couch, asleep and looking kinda lost. That sight made him feel like the worst Sugar Daddy and the worst man too, so he admiring you sleeping for a while, being careful not to wake you and asking the mansion's cooks to make you the best breakfast possible, and asking two other employees to buy you more jewelry and flowers, as well as a new Prada bag.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who would wait for you to forgive him (which occurred without any resistance by your part) before finally kissing you, feeling much more hesitant and nervous than when he lost his virginity with his father's random secretary, when he was just a teenager with hormones raging.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who from that day on would start taking you on every trip. You might even miss some college classes, but who cares? Do you wanna know Greece? Do you wanna go to Venice? Spend the summer in Copacabana? Winter in Tokyo? Aegon will take you anywhere you want and fuck you in all those expensive hotels, even if that's not part of the original arrangement.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who doesn't wanna put a label on your situationship, because saying that you're his Sugar Baby sounds less complicated to him than admitting more feelings beyond that. However, when you mention being at a frat party with some people from your college, Aegon immediately goes after you, not caring about the confused looks from the young students when they saw an extremely rich older man coming towards you, picking you up as if you were a little child, throwing you into the limousine seat without his typical care, realizing that you did it all on purpose as soon as he saw your smug look afterwards.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who will order the driver to roll up the partition so he can climb up the tiny dress you were wearing at the party, slapping your ass several times, the expensive rings he wears on his hands making red marks on your soft flesh. He doesn't need to prepare you, the way you chose to dress the Victoria's Secret lingerie he bought you most recently sends his mind into a frenzy, and all the driver can hear as he drives are the muffled sounds of your loud moans and the sound of your skins hitting each other, plus Aegon growling and degrading you as if you were nothing but a brainless whore.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who will ask you to be his girlfriend during the following weekend, preparing a trip to Paris and spoiling you with a Birkin Bag, also making your relationship official with a Cartier ring made of gold and decorated with 72 white diamonds, which cost at least $7,000.

• Sugar Daddy!Aegon who even though he's your boyfriend, will still keeping spoil you as he did before, when the bond between the two of you was just the Sugar Daddy and Sugar Baby agreement. Actually... It will be much better, because the gifts will be even fancier and the fancy trips will be more expensive. Also... You'll be able to fuck with Aegon at his office whenever both of you want to, especially if you give in to his desires and drop out of college so you can just be his Sugar Baby during the day and his cockslut at night, not having to do anything but stay home and shop, or walk around the city, and then wait for your Sugar Daddy to fill you after he gets home from work, eager to feel his cock fucking your warm pussy while he presses you against the mansion's windows, already picturing the millionaire neighbors jerking off to the sight of your pretty breasts almost crushed against the glass and his cum dripping from your swollen and tight core.

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benevolenterrancy · 13 days ago

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@mymusehowls I actually drew Nie Mingjue braiding Meng Yao's hair a couple months ago, so I decided to switch it up and let Meng Yao braid Nie Mingjue's this time!

Dealing with all that hair must take forever, so they may as well go over morning reports while fussing around with it u.u

#mdzs #nieyao #nie mingjue #jin guangyao #meng yao #nmj #jgy #i have so many feelings about the nie braids #i love shit like that #such a visual and codified way of showing belonging? the fact that you'd actually have to teach a SKILL to form that level of belonging?#like SOMEONE had to teach meng yao how to braid his hair that way. someone had to say 'you're one of us and you get to show the world that'#what point did he receive that permission/instruction?#and then it would have become a ROUTINE #a routine which he KEPT UP #even as jin guangyao. even as a spy.#and like? what was that meant to say?#what did it say to himself? what did it say to anyone who saw it? was anyone else allowed to see it?#all this coming from jgy who is never less than six schemes deep at any given time?#(and i don't care if this is show exclusive canon and really only '''''canon''''''' at that i am obsessed with it it's mine now)#this rat who is constantly trying to claw out some sort of safe home for himself - what does it MEAN TO HIM I WANT TO KNOW #I WANT TO DISSECT HIM #anyway #nie hair braids #i really really really love them #though on the flip side i hate drawing them with a burning passion and jgy should always have his dumb little hat on to spare me from it

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firsnbwife · 26 days ago

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YES THANK YOU!! ALL OF THIS!

i also want to add on the fact that kant is in such a hard spot bc being put in this mission has made him bring down his guards abt commitment and i have a really big suspicion that he falls easily if he did let himself go further than just ons.

now he’s falling in love with bison despite his hesitance abt love and he’s stuck in this protect babe or let himself fall for bison dilemma and it’s so unfair to him cause they are kinda a package deal at the moment.

he feels like he can’t win in this situation so the only choice is for him to complete the mission and move on but it’s just so hard for him to do that and we will definitely see it next episode how deeply he’s actually fallen for bison despite his greatest attempts not to

it is absolutely true what you said abt ppl being deceived by the story having an unreliable narrator. you can see everyone’s actions and motives so simply except for kant’s making the ppl that have already written him off as some manipulative douchey player from the moment they saw him feel validated in brushing aside all his meaningful qualities to continue to label him this master of deception with no remorse for it.

it’s so tiring to see this constant mischaracterization of him and having to explain every little expression he makes when it’s honestly pretty simple to understand if you put down the pre-determined notion of want he is and who he is that these ppl have been clinging onto for dear life.

they will take the most insignificant things to be mad abt and pick apart but then ignore all the moments that explain why he’s acting like that and why he wears a mask so much and hides himself away.

they never see him as the orphaned older brother of a minor that turned into a parental guardian over night who took the role immediately who probably had very little time to grieve his parents death if any at all, someone who was at such a rock bottom that he needed to turn to thievery in order to provide and give as much as he can to his brother so he won’t have to go down the same path that he had to, someone who cares abt ppl despite their bad actions towards him and still cares to go out of his way to be sure they don’t get hurt when he had no obligation to give a fuck abt his stalker ex one night stand that literally sexually harrassed him, someone so selfless that he doesn’t even know how to be himself anymore and choose himself and can’t do it bc he basically has a son to worry abt.

i just don’t get it. how does anyone hate him? esp the ppl that love every other character but him. it makes no sense

you know, i think the reason people fall into the 'kant doesn't care about bison at all, none of what he's doing or saying is real' thing so easily is because he's so good at compartmentalising. it's one of the most consistent parts of his character. we get shown in damn near every single scene he's in: kant constantly sets his own feelings/opinions/wants aside in favour of getting done whatever it is he needs to get done. and if you aren't paying attention it gives off the impression that he doesn't care, but that isn't the truth at all.

i know i talk about kant's role as a big brother a lot, but i genuinely believe that's where it stems from. from the moment his parents died, he had to tuck his own grief away in favour of tending to babe's needs, both emotional and physical. and in ep 6 babe refers to kant as the one who raised him, so babe really must have been quite young when their parents passed - young enough that kant is the one he considers to have raised him, not them. and i know i already talked about it in this post but it's worth reiterating that that wouldn't have come without sacrifice for kant. from context clues it seems as though he went from a student just like any other to basically a single father to a young, grieving child overnight. and kant loves babe. he clearly prioritises his wellbeing - in every sense - above his own. and that means kant's own feelings and wants and desires and even his needs getting thrown aside over and over and over again in favour of babe's. this is a pattern that must have gone on for years atp. kant probably no longer knows any other way to be: he always becomes what other people need him to be. who he is and how he feels get smothered in favour of that every time. and please understand that him doing that isn't an act of manipulation, but likely started as him adapting to the circumstances he found himself in as a teenager and became so ingrained in who he is that he doesn't even realise he's doing it anymore. (besides you can see when kant is manipulating someone. it's completely different. he's not great at it.)

because i mean really, do you honestly think kant was never scared going out stealing cars? do you think he wasn't petrified when he was caught? do you think he never wished for something else for his brother, for himself? do you think he never walked through the streets at night looking for cars to steal, wishing he could just go home? wanting his mum and dad? wanting to someone to take care of him for once?

of course he did. of course he was scared. of course he was upset. he's not a sociopath, nor is he some kind of professional criminal. he's just a guy who's been doing whatever he has to to get by, and sometimes that meant doing bad things, but he still has feelings and wants and wishes beyond that.

but the thing is, as it always has been, is that above kant's wants or needs or feelings sits babe. babe's wants and needs and feelings. his wishes. his dreams. and so kant pushes his own feelings to the side so that he could do what he needed to do - first out of necessity, then because he had no choice. but that doesn't mean those feelings aren't still there. it doesn't mean he doesn't still feel them.

but what place is there for kant's feelings? what use are they? babe needs feeding. he needs education. he needs school uniforms and books and new shoes. he needs someone there, on the outside. kant is of no use to babe in a prison cell. so what good does kant's fear do? where do his desire and his wants and his feelings get him? nowhere. dreams don't put food on the table. so he tucks them away, time and time again. he's scared, but he gets on with it because there's no other option. he wants, but he has babe to think about, so what use is it wanting anything? wanting to go somewhere, to do something, to be with someone - what's the point when he can't have any of it. he has a child to take care of, and that child's needs must always come first. that's the sacrifice any good parental figure must always make. so that's what kant has done. he's spent half of his life pushing his feelings away in favour of making sure babe is good.

why, then, would love be any different?

style can love fadel. he can want him, and he can voice it, and he can show it, because style doesn't have to think about anyone other than himself. there's no one relying on him, not the way babe relies on kant. and so if he acts stupid and reckless and falls in love with an assassin, the consequences of that will be his and his alone to deal with.

kant doesn't have that luxury - the luxury of loving bison. he never has. he has babe to think about. and on top of that, kant can't allow himself to want anything because to him, wanting is useless. it's pointless. he never gets to have what he wants. and he especially can't allow himself to want bison, not when bison is literally his get out of jail free card. kant can't go to prison because he has to look after babe. and it's the same pattern all over again: babe comes first. what kant actually wants doesn't matter.

so he locks it away. he compartmentalises it. we've seen it over and over and over: he gets angry at christ and he swallows it because he can't afford to made him mad. he gets scared and he grits his teeth and smiles. he starts to feel something real for bison, starts to see him as something other than his ticket to freedom, and in the next breath he's reminding himself (or style) that he can't. that they just need to get the job done, asap. if the captain just arrests them, then it'll be over and kant will be free and he can tuck those feelings and those wants back in their fucking boxes and he can move on. over and over and over you see him trying to convince himself of that, because that's probably what has worked before: just one more car, just one more job, just one more time.

but the problem is it's not that simple. being in such close proximity to bison and pretending to love him has shaken the walls he's put up around himself, and they've started to crumble from the foundation up. the feelings that were supposed to be fake, that were supposed to be kept on the outside of the wall have started leaking in to where the real kant is. his walls haven't fallen down, not yet, but they've been breached. and now he's knee deep in these feelings that he shouldn't be having. now, no matter how hard he tries to resist it, he wants.

i think that's what makes the scene in the bowling alley so heartbreaking for me. when i saw the preview i thought that kant was doing it for bison's benefit, to make sure he has one last good night before he's locked away. which he definitely was. but i also think for the first time in the whole show we really get to see kant - no games, no agendas, no angles. even their first meeting wasn't entirely innocent like that - kant was putting on a persona to get bison into bed. but in that bowling alley, when they're all alone and no one's looking and there's a very real chance they'll never see each other again, kant just lets himself be. he lets bison see him, even the ugly parts, the parts that have him breaking into places and cutting off the cctv and stealing from the drinks fridge. because bison told him, didn't he? that he loves every story on his body, even the fucked up ones? so in that bowling alley kant is no longer trying to be some perfect version of himself, the one with no history or flaws, the one trying so desperately to win bison over. he's not trying to be christ's informant. he's not even trying to be babe's big brother for once. he lets himself just be kant.

kant, who wants to be alone with bison in the place where they first met. kant, who laughs so hard his body can't even hold him up. kant, who sets up a fucking projector to project the northern lights all over the walls because he saw the pictures on bison's wall and knew how much he loved them. bison never told him that. but kant is thoughtful, and kant pays attention, and kant is romantic, and none of it is an act. all of it is him, loving bison despite himself. wanting him to be happy. wanting to give and give and give because that's how kant loves: by giving until there's nothing left of him. by putting himself second and the person he loves first. it's what he did for babe, isn't it?

and it's the real kant who, for just a moment, lets himself be reckless and stupid like style gets to be, like kant never gets to be, when he looks down at bison's face and says should we just get in the car and run? and means it. he poses it like a joke, but he means it. he wants it. and it's the real kant who sits in the middle of a bowling lane and plans a trip with bison, who lets himself truly want something for the first time since he was a child, probably: 15 days, kant will drive, bison will run the playlist. they'll see the northern lights and the puffins and the waterfalls. and maybe it's the freedom of knowing he'll never get to have it that makes it so much easier to allow himself to want it, but isn't that so much worse? knowing the only way he's allowed to want anything is if there's guardrails up, keeping him in line? stopping him from making the mistake of actually thinking he ever gets to have what he wants?

none of that scene was an act. none of it. in fact imo the only person he actually puts a front up with in ep 6 was style, trying to convince him to just let them go. that it doesn't matter. bc that was all bullshit and he knew it. and you can think what you want about kant's actions and his feelings up until now, but if after watching episode 6 you still genuinely don't see that kant is head over heels for bison, then you're either not paying close enough attention, or you've let your bias/dislike of his character cloud your ability to be objective about what you're seeing, and i mean that. he is so obvious.

just because kant isn't expressing his conflict or his discomfort or his feelings the way style is doesn't mean he doesn't feel any of it. he does. his words are lies. we've already established that about him. but his conflict and his love are written all over him, all over his face, all over in his actions. the love he feels for bison is delicate and it's fragile but it's undeniably there. and if you don't see that then i genuinely feel sorry for you because you're not only missing out on half the plot, but you're also missing out on something so genuinely beautiful it makes my bones ache.

#the heart killers #kantbison #thk meta #sorry i kinda just ranted in your quotes #i’m tired #kant is a victim #kant is in such a bad place #i will never get anyone who hates him bc how #how do you sit here and see all the things he is sacrificing for his brother #all the things he did to protect his ex ons who didn’t deserve shit #everything he has went through and is trapped into doing and having so much remorse for #and still sit here calling him a heartless person #acting like he is doing all of this for fun or to get a good fuck #being mad that ppl are calling him a victim #when he is very much a victim of captain chris and he is stuck due to his past criminal actions where he had no idea what else to do #and had no idea it would end up in him being in trapped in this neverending cycle of police corruption where he can’t get out of it unless #he goes to jail and leaves babe behind and that’s one of the last things he wants to do #and now he’s had to break down his own walls abt love to pursue this mission and then he’s going to have to yank that love away himself to #keep his brother safe and so he can have a future that kant himself never got to have #nothing abt this situation is fair to him and the backlash is even more unfair bc i don’t get how ppl can’t see how broken he is #they could never make me hate you kant #sorry i ranted again in the tags but i have a lot to say on this subject #kant pattanawat #fuck captain chris #also it annoys the fuck out of me when ppl think that captain’s actor is so hot that they just literally zone out of the whole scene #saw it so much in reactions and then they just say the most annoying things abt kant bc of it

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butchlifeguard · 6 months ago

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primrose's ch3 is GOOD btw

#fucking simeon bro.......#i cant yap too hard without doing spoilers so heres another tag to fill space lalalala #ot1 spoilers #octopath spoilers #ANYWAYYY it starts with primrose coming back to her hometown which is already pretty strong #seeing a guy Fucking dying which is a great way to establish the harm done by the obsidian people and establish their power #.because if they didnt have a great amount of political power simeons entire motivation would fall through #but in the flashbacks he was sooo fucking good the writing (+ eng translation) did a good job of creating a gray area #between 'nice guy who is also courteous because primrose is a noble' and 'creep who might have a slightly overbearing crush on this kid'#bc shes like. 8 right ? and hes old enough to work as a gardener w/o his parents also being in service of the azelharts #so probably 17 at least?#ok um. i just looked up his age on the wiki and i dont know what the fuck is going on there #i didnt spoil myself but why is he 126.#anyway i actually feel like thats worse 💀#and then his breakdown calling himself primroses one true love..#shes so good i love the contrast between everyonee calling her beautiful + whatever the fuck helgenish and simeon were doing #and her showing no romantic interest in anyone. romance repulsed icon tbh #3 people this chapter were like 'lady primrose you have grown so beautiful since we last saw you' and shes like 😐#coming back around to simeons twist villain shit they went OFF reinforcing primroses performer theme #'the crowd gasps' etc etc. DAMN BRO #a lot of her story is theatrical drama coded ime. like with the ending narration saying 'tragic or happy ending'#she does seem like a dark take on a princess archetype which is cool #anyway the actual use of the game is good here too #the dark screen after she gets knocked out with the perfectly timed music??#and the flashbacks and the use of the titles on peoples speech bubbles #because the shift from 'simeon' to 'simeon the puppet master' kind kf made me lose it a little bit #RIGHT BEFORE the flashback where hes just 'gardener' ? yeah thats a banger #overall this is fairly simple good storytelling but it all comes together along w the actual game mechanics to make one of my...#... favorite chapters so far. plus im really excited for her ch4 now.

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sunni-stuff · 3 months ago

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Part 1 This is part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

With the train ride now over, the sergeants ran, scouring the market for two familiar faces. Their footsteps in sync, crunching delicate mounds of white snow. Soap broke through the crowd first, then Gaz and Gary were right with him.

“Where the hell are they?” Gaz pants out, his breaths misting in the cold air.

“You said the marketplace,” Soap huffs.

“Yeah, I said the marketplace, but it's not like I know exactly where they went!” Gaz snaps back.

While the two sergeants bicker, Roach quietly breaks away, scanning the area until he spots the familiar figures they’d been hunting for. Price and Ghost stand outside a cigar shop, deep in conversation. The satisfied grin on Price's face tells Roach everything—he got what he was after.

“They’re over there!” Roach exclaims, snapping his partners out of their lovers' quarrel.

Gaz and Soap go silent, their eyes following Roach’s line of sight until they, too, spot their Lieutenant and Captain.

In a heartbeat, the three of them are sprinting toward their unsuspecting targets. Soap grins like a madman, practically buzzing with mischief, while Gaz shakes his head, both amused and slightly wary of what might unfold. Roach, meanwhile, is simply thrilled to be along for the ride.

They skid to a stop right in front of the two men, chests heaving as they catch their breath in the biting winter air.

“The hell is wrong with you lot?” Price’s voice cuts through, laced with a mix of annoyance and bemusement as he shifts his attention from Ghost to the winded sergeants.

Ghost, arms crossed, eyes them with quiet scrutiny. His winter coat does little to conceal his bulky frame, a silent reminder of his imposing presence as he stands beside Price.

Price and Ghost waited for an explanation, knowing well everytime those three got together, they were definitely up to no good.

Like how they put semi-permanent green dye in Ghost's shampoo for Halloween.

“We… we saw. A kid with your face,” Gaz manages, still catching his breath, pointing straight at Ghost.

Ghost raises a brow, baffled. A kid with his face? What the hell did that mean? Did they think he looked like a baby?

Soap huffs in mock disappointment, shooting a playful glare at Gaz. “Oi, I wanted to say it!”

Predictably, the two dive into another back-and-forth. Gaz isn’t one to shout, but Soap has a talent for riling anyone up.

Price lets their little show go on for only a moment before his stern voice cuts in, slicing through their bickering. “One of you properly explain, or you'll be walking back to base.”

Roach steps up, eager to clarify. “There’s a kid, probably about two, and she looks exactly like the Lt. Scowl, glare, and all!”

Price and Ghost pause, their expressions twisting as they both try—and fail—to imagine a little girl with Simon’s permanent scowl.

Price shudders, shaking the thought from his head. “That is not a face a kid should have.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Gaz chimes in, nodding emphatically.

Ghost throws him an offended look, his usually hardened eyes showing a glimmer of hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” they all exclaim in unison, even Price, who quickly averts his gaze as Ghost’s glare narrows on him.

Ghost huffs, then crosses his arms. “Did you take a picture?”

Soap snorts, leaning against the wall with a smirk. “Aye, right, 'cause that wouldnae be creepy at all.”

Ghost stares daggers Into Soap, rolling his eyes and pushing himself off the wall. “Okay, then where is she?”

The three stooges lead the charge once again, this time with their Captain and Lieutenant in tow. They weave through the crowd toward the train park, where Soap eagerly scans for the woman and kid he’d spotted earlier. But the line they were in is empty, the pair nowhere to be found.

“Shite. I think they’re gone,” Soap mutters, his Scottish accent thickening in his frustration, the words rolling out with a clipped bite.

“So the imaginary woman and kid don’t actually exist,” Ghost deadpans, unimpressed.

“They exist!” Gaz insists, voice edging on exasperation.

“Sure,” Ghost replies, his tone flat and thoroughly unconvinced.

Roach snickers, then glances over at Price—only to see him staring slack-jawed through the window of a nearby café, his cigar dangling from his mouth, forgotten.

“Cap?” Roach says, touching the older man’s shoulder.

Price doesn’t look away, nodding toward the café. “Found them.”

Everyone turns toward the café, eyes landing on you and Adira. The little girl is happily weaving between your legs, her tiny hands gripping your coat as she entertains herself, all while you order hot chocolates to fend off the winter chill. A soft smile touches your lips as you watch her play, blissfully unaware of the audience gathering just outside.

The barista, with a warm smile, hands over two cups, one with a little extra marshmallows for Adira, her voice bright as she wishes you both a merry Christmas. You take the cups with a grateful nod, handing one to Adira. She immediately takes her drink, sipping eagerly, her small feet bouncing on her heels from the sugar rush.

“Yummy?” You ask, glancing down at her with a soft smile, a wave of motherly pride swelling in your chest as you watch her delight in the simple joy of her drink.

Adira nods eagerly, her eyes lighting up as she pulls away from her straw with a satisfied sigh. “Yummy.”

With a soft chuckle, you both leave the warmth of the shop, stepping out into the crisp air. Hand in hand, you walk back toward the park, the world around you feeling peaceful despite the cold. As you reach the crosswalk, you stop, waiting for the light to turn. Adira looks up at you, her little face filled with contentment as she swings your joined hands back and forth, her sugary energy still buzzing.

Across the way, the team stood frozen, unable to look away from the scene unfolding before them. Everyone but Ghost was struck by how much Adira looked like him—her features unmistakably mirroring his, save for the color of her hair and skin. The resemblance was uncanny, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world had stopped around them.

“She looks nothing like me,” Ghost stated plainly, his voice cutting through the stillness as though it were fact. His expression was unmoving, a wall of stubbornness in his eyes. He was ready to die on that hill.

Then, as fate would have it, a woman walking her dog passed by, and Adira’s cherub-like face hardened into a cold, calculating stare. It was subtle, but unmistakable.

“Nevermind,” Ghost muttered, his earlier conviction faltering as he watched her shift before his eyes.

“So… you’ve been having fun these past years?” Roach asked, his gaze flicking between Adira and Ghost, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Not that I know of,” Ghost grunted, his eyes still locked on you and Adira, a mix of unease and something else flickering across his face. He couldn’t pull himself away.

“Let’s get closer,” Price commanded, already making his move. Soap and Roach exchanged a shrug, falling in line without hesitation.

“Excuse me?” Gaz sputtered, though his body had already begun moving before his brain could catch up, unable to defy the Captain’s order.

Ghost fell silent, teeth gritted. This wasn’t a situation he was used to, especially not one where he was forced to go in blind. He stood stiffly at the crosswalk, trying to hide his glances, his focus split between the team and you.

Soap ended up the closest, standing just next to Adira. The little girl paused, her big, doe-like eyes lifting from her drink to catch sight of him. The recognition was instant. Her lips pursed into a small line, and her gaze grew heavy with annoyance.

“Ugee…” she whispered, scooting closer to you.

Soap froze, his mind stuttering for a moment. Did she just—? Did she call me ugly?

Gaz, standing behind him, couldn’t contain himself. A muffled laugh broke through as Soap turned to look at the others, wide-eyed and speechless, completely taken aback.

“Do ye lot think I'm ugly?” Soap asked, his voice thick with disbelief, clearly thrown off by the little girl's words.

“Not the time, Mctavish,” Price said, a tiny laugh tugging at the corner of his lips despite the situation.

The streetlight flickered green, signaling it was time to move. You adjusted yourself, ready to cross the street. Each member of the team started mentally preparing, unsure of how—or even if—they should approach you. Ghost, however, was the first to make a move, determined to intercept you. But Soap, ever the opportunist, beat him to it.

Ghost wasn’t exactly subtle, and having him try anything would probably send you running in the opposite direction.

“Excuse me, aren’t you the lady from the train?” Soap called out, his voice light, though his intentions were clear.

You paused at his interruption, recognition flickering in your eyes. You remembered the man who bumped into you earlier. “Yes? Is something the matter?”

“Do you happen to know where I could find Leslies?” Soap asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice, though he tried to mask it.

“The pub?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Soap confirmed, his face lighting up with a mix of relief and surprise at your easy response.

You look around for a moment, trying to remember and see the street names of your current location. “Uh…it should be about a couple blocks south from here. They have a big sign, you can't miss it.”

Thank God for Soap, because that one question was all he needed to keep you trapped in a conversation, his charm working its magic as you giggled and chatted away easily, the awkwardness of the situation melting away.

Meanwhile, Ghost’s attention shifted to Adira. He looked down at her, and she, almost instinctively, looked up at him. Their eyes locked in a silent staring contest, each of them studying the other. The intensity in their gaze was undeniable, both sets of eyes reflecting the same quiet, unwavering strength. It was like looking in a mirror—a mirror that mirrored back his own hardened stare and no-nonsense attitude.

Adira was, quite literally, his mini me. The resemblance was impossible to ignore.

“How old are you?” Ghost asked bluntly, his voice low as he kneeled down to Adira’s height, his gaze intense but trying to soften.

Adira paused for a moment, glancing up at you for help, but you were still caught up in conversation with Soap. She turned her focus back to Ghost, her small fingers fidgeting with the hem of her coat as she murmured shyly, “Two…”

She was two. Two. Ghost’s mind raced, trying to piece together the details, but nothing clicked. Nearly three years ago… what had he done three years ago? He kept everything categorized, stored in his mind like a well-organized file system, but this was something that didn’t fit.

Then, Soap’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“You don’t seem like the type of lass to frequent Leslies.”

You giggled, a soft blush creeping up your cheeks at Soap’s question. He wasn’t wrong… at least, not entirely. “I’ve only been to Leslie’s once, and, well… it’s how I ended up with my little blessing.” You glanced down at Adira, the warmth of your smile radiating as you spoke.

Everything shattered in that moment. Ghost’s stomach twisted painfully, his heart skipping a beat as the realization slammed into him like a freight train. Leslie's. Almost three years ago, during that stupid holiday.

His mind began to piece it together, the hazy memories from that night slowly coming into focus. He remembered the bar, the laughter, the way you had caught his attention. You were easy on the eyes, easy to make laugh, and most importantly—unlike everyone else. You didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry, you just let him lead, let him slip into the night with no strings attached.

But now, as he looked at Adira, everything fell into place. The way she stared at him, those familiar eyes, the resemblance he couldn’t ignore. His breath hitched, and the weight of the truth crushed him—she was his daughter.

A knot formed in his throat as he tried to process the fact. Adira. His daughter. The little girl standing before him was his flesh and blood, the result of a moment he'd long since buried in the depths of his mind.

---

Taglist: @auradaniela98-blog-blog @cumsluut @unstqblecvrses @moraxnomora @serafina-nyx @sage-burrow @skylarmitchell @xx-wal1flower-xx @n-y-x04 @gluttonybiscuits @imahugenerdlol @wehrgabriel @blackhawkfanatic @tazuduck @soxocs @jingyuansspouse @cutiecusp @sleepyoriana @forgottensomewhere @puppylikethedog @spongelistener @caged-birdies-blog @bubblegirll26 @misscaller06 @fuckbananas03 @watu2ka @yukisdelusional @redroserabbit

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #Singlemom!Reader #sunshine-sunni

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garlicbrede · 1 year ago

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For some reason my brain decided to make a long rant in the tags, so uh yeah got that for anyone that wants to see it.

my mom loves to lie and like she always swears she was NEVER homophobic or anything to me as a child “i even have a gay work friend” but a really funny memory resurfaced recently where i asked if i could use birthday money i had to buy a rainbow flag when i was like ??? 7?? because i LOVED rainbows. and she said no that means something Evil and god will hate you . so what did i do. but ask my grandmom for a rainbow sweater for christmas and proceed to only wear that sweater for three years when it got cold because i didnt like the idea that god hated colors and i wanted to challenge him

#long rant #cw homophobia #cw really shitty stuff i found homophobic people spewing #for some bullshit reason some religious ppl think queer ppl stole the rainbow. from god. I've heard this shit said unironically before #like some ppl think queer folk saw the rainbow used a sign of salvation in the bible and went fuck off and took it the show their pride #got some text from a shitty religious website that sums up what some ppl think better than i did #*ahem*#the LGBTQ+ movement has attempted to steal from God himself #one of the most significant demonstrations of redemptive love in the Bible.#When most people in our culture see a rainbow #they do not think of God’s patient determination to extend salvation to a sinful #but instead recognize a symbol of destructive sexuality #wjat the fuck #like sorry for ranting in the tags but what the fuck #ok wait holy fuckin shit #apparently back in 2017 some shithead named Bryan Fischer who i don't believe I've heard of before btw #well he hosted one of those christian radio things #apparently he fucking insisted “homosexuality gave us Adolf Hitler” how godamn stupid can someone fucking be #hitler killed anyone who was different including queer folk and then this man goes on his shitty little talk show and says fucking that????#i am falling down a rabbit hole of how fucking insane can this hate spew get #should probably stop now tho #so uh one last quote that makes me question how insane this Bryan Fischer dude is #“Worst example of cultural appropriation ever: LGBTs stole the rainbow from God. It's his. He invented it. Gen. 9:11-17. Give it back.”#what the hell

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moonlitwitchdaisy · 1 month ago

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boyfriend!gojo was utterly fascinated by your tits.

it didn’t matter whether they were clothed or bare, touched or untouched—just seeing them was enough for him. he already knew he was in possession of the most beautiful things in the world.

of course, he preferred to give them his special attention. while just looking at them could excite him, he loved to take them in his large hands, knead them, run his tongue all over them (especially over the sensitive peaks), and mark every inch with his mouth. after all, your boyfriend enjoyed making it clear what belonged to him.

what he loved even more, though, were the brand-new nipple piercings you got a few hours ago. even though you told him not to touch them yet, the moment your shirt came off, his fingers were tracing over them, and he was pressing soft, wet kisses to them.

he couldn’t have asked for anything more.

the cold metal balls brushing against his tongue with every lick only made his cock harder. they were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen in his life, and he had no intention of leaving them alone for even a second.

every time he licked your still-sensitive nipples, sending waves of pain and arousal through your body, you begged him to stop. you didn’t really want him to, but he needed to stop to avoid infection. of course, your boyfriend thought that was ridiculous and declared he was doing a much better job “disinfecting” them with his tongue. at that point, you’d stopped caring about anything the piercer had said.

after all, no one knew better than gojo, right?

that day, for the first time, you came just from having your nipples sucked. of course, gojo was thrilled and proud of himself for making it happen. but the moment you said, “i guess we should thank sukuna for these, don’t you think?” the grin on his face didn’t falter, yet in his mind, he was already planning a way to beat the shit out of that bastard sukuna.

jealous boyfriend!gojo came home that evening acting completely normal—like he hadn’t just set sukuna’s shop on fire. “did you start the movie yet? oh, by the way, i ran into the guy who pierced your nipples. what was his name? sukuba? oh no, sukuna! i made sure to give him a special thanks for taking care of my sexy girlfriend’s nipples.”

as he walked over to you, he squeezed your aching tits through your shirt. when he noticed your angry expression in contrast to his wide grin, he realized something was off. his grin only grew when he turned to the television and saw the news of sukuna’s shop burning down.

“what? i thought it was a lovely thank-you gift,” he said, still grinning, even as you glared at him. but no matter how mad you were, his smile never faltered. in his mind, that bastard sukuna deserved far worse.

jealous boyfriend!gojo couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching, looking at, or even thinking about your tits—especially when they were his to worship, suck, and claim as his own.

a little note: i’m getting my nipples pierced this weekend, and it inspired me to write this. also, make sure to take good care of your nipple piercings after getting them done! even if gojo says, “i’ll take care of them for you,” don’t trust him!!!!!

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk smut #jjk #jjk headcanons #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru headcanons #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo headcanons #gojo satoru x you

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dollyichi · 1 month ago

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I JUST GOT A CRUSH! ᯓ★ katsuki bakugou x f ! reader. 1.02k words / fluff / not proofread

bakugou is bad at social media. not exactly terrible, yet not so great either.

he really doesn’t care too much for it nor does he use it that often but he’s not that unfamiliar with it. he finds himself being on tiktok from time to time though he never really bothered to make it known that he had an account in the first place, just enjoying whatever he comes across and liberally blocks accounts that come up on his fyp that pissed him off. he never posts anything either so it didn’t matter. it’s a typical account with a generated username and a blank profile, 57 following, 0 followers.

recently he found a video that he wanted to share (an edit made by a fan) and posts the link on twitter, alongside saying how ‘it’s real sick’ of them to make that for him. he didn’t even know videos like that were famous. the effort and skill it took made him think it were cool.

what he also didn’t know, was that his profile would be revealed when you press on the link.

he got so confused when his account suddenly gained so many followers in just two days since he ‘never mentioned it.’ that was until he sees the replies on his tweet that the linked he used to share got him exposed.

he checks it out for himself which proved that he did actually share his account without knowing, but it’s ‘whatever.’ even after everyone found out he just used it like normal. it’s only a pain when they kept asking him to post something.

he truly is without care, yet he underestimates the fans who immediately stalk his ‘almost’ empty profile. you see, he doesn’t know that his reposts are public because he doesn’t actually look at his own profile. it’s usually a like, like, repost, favorite, like, then close app routine that he does before he goes to bed.

there's a few funny videos here and there, cooking videos and recipes too, things he'd like to try out soon for himself, or techniques that were really helpful for him. some are also videos of fan edits that he recently discovered, where the same video he shared was at the top of the page.

yet, there was one reoccurring face that kept popping up. a pretty girl who likes to lip sync some songs or show off their trinket hauls. sometimes mini vlogs from their day to day or makeup vids. and the topic trends everywhere: DYNAMIGHT TIKTOK CRUSH

when you saw it you really couldn’t believe it yourself that the one anonymous commenter on your videos was a pro-hero, your favorite nonetheless. though, it makes you a little nervous since your face is plastered all over different social platforms because you’re only active on that app. you don’t know where to go from there except squeal into your pillows. definitely flattered when you recall the many times he called you pretty on your vlogs.

as the rest dive deeper into his little ‘crush’ they even saw him comment on a few of your videos with compliments that sounded extra flirty. they teased him so hard saying how he looks like a creep especially with that profile. he’s never gonna hear the end of it. soon a new topic blows up that reads: GO FOR IT DYNAMIGHT

in his defense, if he were to give anyone an explanation, he thinks you have a really nice smile and a really soothing voice. also that you’re real cute and charming, that’s why he could watch and even rewatch all your content in one sitting. he couldn’t get enough of you, absolutely smitten. even had to ask kirishima how to turn on notifications for an account in the guise of turning it on for his agency's tiktok.

you’re also the only account he’s following that’s not a cooking channel or a pro-hero. and yeah it’s basically all that, a crush. not that he expects you to actually give him a chance, he’s happy just seeing your content.

however, the poor (not really) bakugou is actually unaware of the whole situation of his ‘tiktok crush’ trending since he was finishing a mission. only finding out when he got a call from kirishima asking if he found a girlfriend already. “what the fuck are you on about?”

“your fans are talking about how you keep reposting videos of this one girl on tiktok. i mean, it’s kinda obvious if you’re dating.” and it hits him, quick. your username (the one he could only remember, really) flashes in his head, but he laughs it off. “nah nothin’ like that. think i could shoot my shot though?” he asks him and kirishima says, “haha! i think she already beat you to it.”

not knowing what he meant, he swiftly gets home, showers, and lays on his couch whipping his phone out of his pocket to search up your username. and there he was, staring at his phone, unable to stop the smile on his face when he sees the thumbnail of your new video. he opens it immediately and there you were, holding a dynamight figurine (a very limited one too!) close to your cheek that you’ve never shown before until now. you never thought to show it thinking he might see it and think of you as weirdo. it gave the opposite effect actually, even made him more confident because who would've thought your pretty collection had a 'random guy' in there (definitely not random for you at least).

bakugou immediately likes, reposts and adds it to his favorites. even screen recording the whole thing cause you never gave access to download your videos—it was a very special moment for him okay!

he then comments, ‘you can have the real thing too.’

a few minutes later it’s got your icon with a heart beside it. he chuckles, happy that you finally noticed him. beams when he gets a notification that you followed him back.

he’s definitely going to dm you after he calms down. just hopes this time you don't beat him to it again.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i love a katsuki with a crush i think it's so cute. but i love it even more that he's still confident about it!!! i like to think that reader probably has like 20k followers or something so pretty big but not as big as the others. the first time he met you he stumbles upon a video of you talking about the ice cream u just got and then he got hooked cause u were so cute when u were picking the flavor. PLEASE DO NOT SHARE THIS ON TIKTOK BTW >< also minors & ageless blogs please do not follow me!

#bnha fluff #mha fluff #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo fluff #my hero academia fluff #ᦾִ⁠❤︎ by cola

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reinemichele · 11 months ago

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I think I need to go to bed, I understand Less now . And, I've spent Years begging for more Thanatos/Lost references, & Revo showed up with a bat (literally)

#photo #erin talks #like I'm happy but 😭 the macabre nature of doujin era with the specificity of modern era #anyway uh I don't want to say anything too conclusive about tsukihito bc I'm still not entirely sure #I'm really not sure if takahiko was a real person or just a fake name/cover story #A's diary only mentions takehiko twice & the vet's diary comes across like a bunch of lies a serial killer would tell the police #'I couldn't understand Tsukihito 😔 my parents wouldn't let me hang out with him . I'd welcome him back tho!'#= 'He was sooo smart & I actually did want to hang out with him!!!'#but if tsukihito introduced himself to A under a false name then she would recognize the boy with unkempt hair as takahiko #bc the last time she saw takahiko was 1 month prior #I want to know who all he killed since after he's arrested he rejects S (meaning he's not arrested for her murder)#esp bc in that song he says he 'eased a pregnant woman's fear' . implying S isn't the only person he got pregnant & then murdered?#I'm not sure if I think he's genuinely psychopathic or just your run of the mill killer who lashes out at the world bc of what happened in #his childhood but I do think he lies constantly; like I saw someone say they think he's not aro & just didn't want to admit he felt love #for A & S & after reading over each song relating to him repeatedly I think I agree; I think he just called himself aro as a way to seduce S #since she had just been confessed to & she admitted she didn't think she'd liked anyone before #I tried looking through twt mentions of him but even jpn laurants are 1) trying to figure out his actual name #& 2) saying things like 'I'm confused' 'I don't know what to think' 'I can't remember if it was this or that'#I'd be a lot more lost without defade's translation tho obv 🙇🏻‍♀️🙏🏻#anyway sorry for this giant wall of text I'm going 2 sleep

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covetyou · 1 month ago

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solstice

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: smut (PiV), competency kink, grumpy/sunshine, he falls first, yearning, angst, almost enemies to lovers, Tommy being a little shit, no use of y/n, Jackson!Joel word count: 4k summary: Three little words. Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days least of all.

A/N: happy holidays @trulybetty! thank you for being so lovely about this being a little late. I was only going to go for one or two of your prompts for the @pedrostories secret santa, but then my brain went why not all of them, and now here we are.

divider by @saradika-graphics

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Three little words.

"I got it."

Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days the least.

You said other things too, of course. He heard you speak to other people. Not always nicely, but he heard you. You said more to him on occasion too. Out my way or put it down were some particular favorites, but none said more so than those three, tiny, little words.

I got it.

Because you did. He had never met a woman who had got it more than you. Strong, capable, and everything he ever tried to be. He watched every day how you'd got it. Climbing up ladders with tiles stacked on your shoulder, hauling wheelbarrows full of gravel, chopping wood in bitter wind and cold. You had it, and he watched, wanting it too.

The only problem was, he wasn't too sure what it was.

To begin with, it was the respect you commanded that he yearned for. He had that, once. Not here. Fuck, never here. The people here would barely look at him for the first few weeks. But you? They listened to you. If you said move they listened, even if it was with a roll of their eyes. If you told someone to fuck off to medical, they went without a grumble. They trusted you. Even if you weren't particularly generous with your smiles.

You were the exact opposite of what Joel was finding he had to be.

In Boston, people feared him, and that kept him, and Tess, safe. It was for the best. The people here feared him too, at first. Maybe even still now, if he was to be honest with himself, but he'd worked hard to change that. He met the mumbled good mornings with as much of a smile as he could muster. He went for drinks with his brother, made small talk with the locals even when he didn't want to. He tried to get into Maria's good graces, but never quite succeeded.

And he worked. With you mostly. Jackson didn't have much use for hired muscle or someone who could smuggle shit discreetly - not outside of the daily patrol shifts they wouldn't let him on yet, anyway - but they did have use for contractors. Plumbers, electricians, carpenters, anyone who was good at doing shit with their hands. Those were things that had value behind these walls and, luckily for him, that meant he had value too. For the first time in a long time, he meant something to people.

Just not to you.

As much as he smiled, and made small talk, and helped out fixing shit in this place that was now his home, he could never get through to you. He'd try to help you out, only to be knocked aside - sometimes literally. You barely looked at him. Spoke only when necessary. Once, you'd even told him to fuck off.

He did.

At first he took it all personally. He moped, and kept his sour mood hidden from his brother and Ellie. Then, he saw how you were with, well, just about everyone else, and that lessened the sting.

But, as time wore on, Joel saw other things too. Where at first you'd seemed rude and abrasive, he now saw the kindness and compassion you treated everyone with. If you told someone to go the fuck home, it wasn't because you wanted them gone it was because you wanted them rested. If you let people struggle, strike their thumbs with a badly aimed hit of a hammer, it was to help them learn. You never did let anyone make the same mistake twice. And, because of you, no one did.

It was with the waning of spring that his desire to be you changed into something different and entirely more confusing.

As the gardens and trees exploded in the frenzy of summer, you shed your layers. Literally, not figuratively. You still stayed firmly closed up as your jacket disappeared and made way for a shirt hung loosely about your shoulders. Then, even that found its way around your waist and Joel had to come face to face with the bare, strong expanse of your back while you worked in nothing but a tank top, the patch of sweat at the small of your back blooming while he watched.

It was for the best that he didn't think about what you looked like walking towards him during those relentlessly hot months, with nothing but a thin tank top pulled across your chest. It wasn't something he should think about in public, anyway. It was something he kept for late at night, when those three little words echoed around his head and you showed him just how much you really, truly got it.

By October, Tommy had caught on. Your jacket was fastened back around you, and you were as hostile as ever. You breezed past him one morning, hooking a ladder over one shoulder, toolbag gripped in your other hand.

"I got it."

By now, Joel knew you did.

By now, he wanted to come with you anyway.

So he did, grabbing his own set of salvaged tools and heading up to the latest reno with you, only to have you square up to him the second you saw him.

"I said, I got it."

Five words. It was a good day.

So good, that he couldn't keep his eyes off you in the Tipsy Bison that night. You weren't in here often - from what he could tell, you didn't do much outside of work - but the people who shared your company seemed to enjoy it. You sat soft and quiet in the corner, listening in to their conversation more often than you contributed. But, when you did, they laughed, and Joel caught himself smiling, and Tommy caught him too.

"Never thought you'd be more of a ray of fuckin' sunshine than anyone else, but there's a first for everythin', I guess," he'd said, tilting his glass to the table in the corner where you sat.

Joel took a swig of the last fresh cider of the season and shrugged.

"You got an eye for her."

He sputtered, choking on the tart, sweet liquid. "No I ain't."

"Well you got somethin'," said Tommy, clinking his glass against Joel's own. "If it ain't an eye it's your-"

A harsh kick, and a grunt loud enough to turn every head in the bar later, and Tommy dropped it entirely.

For about a week.

Tommy ribbed him at dinner, drinks, lunch and just about every time in between. Called Joel 'Sunshine' even as he scowled. Asked about his girl as if you were anything other than a person who hated him. Slung his arm around Joel's shoulder and told him all about the birds and the bees, as if he'd ever forgotten.

He couldn't forget. Not with you running around barking at him and keeping him in a seemingly permanent state of arousal. If it wasn't your voice and that angry way you talked at him, it was just about anything else. He couldn't escape it.

It was how you did everything he could do, and more. What he had in strength, you had in technique. Your hands - fuck, did he watch your hands - were rarely unblemished with dirt or scrapes, but they were adept at everything you put them to. He couldn't look away, even if he knew each minute he looked was a minute quicker he'd be when he touched himself to the thought of you later that night.

The taunts stopped with the first snowfall.

"If you're really that interested, should talk to her," Tommy said instead. "Bark's worse than her bite."

"You're still sayin' she bites, though."

"Sure she would if you asked nice enough, brother."

Joel didn't ask.

He didn't ask the morning he woke up early to see the town blanketed in thick snow either. He simply went out, picked up a snow shovel and began working until the sun came up. He didn't expect to find you at his door that evening, or for you to grab him and throw him outside, pushing him up against the side of his own house.

"What do you think you're playing at, Miller?" you growled up at him, pushing him firmly against the siding.

Joel stared, dumb-founded, your hands curled in the front of his shirt - touching him - and blinked down at you.

"I don't give a shit who you are or what you've done out there. I am not scared of you and I am not having you take my job."

You ignored him more after that. Days went by with barely a word to him - not even a scowl thrown his way if he made too much noise or offered to help someone out on a job.

As for him, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Every day for weeks that night played through his head, memory of the feel of your hands on his chest and your face so close he could feel your breath, until Christmas was on the horizon and a pit of fear began stirring in his stomach. You were a balm to it, somehow. Something to focus on when the fear got too much and kept him inside, away from the crowds of happy people.

Every single I got it was more of a comfort than the last. It could have been the familiarity of it, or the way those words came softer and softer as the season wore on. Sometimes he'd head by the workshop to ask if you needed a hand, just to hear that soft rejection one more time.

Until late one cold afternoon, it didn't come. You were alone, blowing warm air onto gloved hands, and when he asked you simply nodded, and he followed.

You worked together in silence until the sun set, when you turned to him as you parted ways.

"S'hard this time of year, but joy and grief can exist at the same time, y'know."

He didn't go to the Bison that night. Or the next. He let the grief crack open his chest instead, and let it pour out over his bedroom floor for two whole days.

On the third, he let the joy back in. Ellie reeled off new jokes from a book she found in the Jackson library. He held his nephew and rocked the teething babe to sleep. He went back to the Bison - you weren't there - and celebrated the impending holiday.

Seven months, three days, and about as many hourssince he stepped foot back in Jackson. Damn near every day he's heard those three little words, and he'll be damned if he goes another without them.

With the day as short as it could ever be, the sun tracking low in the sky, he finds you.

"I got it," you say softly, when he asks you that very same question he always does.

"I know."

He doesn't know how your lips end up on his - because it is you who kisses him. He doesn't know how his fingers find themselves under your shirt either, the coldness of them making you gasp into his mouth until you're pulling apart, both wide eyed.

He does know you taste like fruit, even in the dead of winter. He always suspected it - knew your sweet tooth by the berries you couldn't resist and the sweet treats gifted to you. He knows your fingers are as cold as his when you hand him a shovel.

He does know, even though you got it, you let him help anyway.

You clear streets and roofs of snow together until the sun goes down. He follows at your heel in the dark, cold biting through your layers as you both stomp the snow off your boots, shovels thrown down, workshop locked up. You barely even look at each other until you're staring through the fog of your own heavy breaths on Joel's front porch. He doesn't know how to welcome you in - he never was too good with words - so he simply unlocks the door and pushes it open.

You step inside.

Layers are shed before the door even closes. Heavy coats dumped on the couch, boots toed off and left this way and that. The hat on your head stuffed in a pocket - he can't remember which.

You move upstairs - worked on this house, you say - and pull him into his own bedroom before his lips even touch yours again. But when they do, they do. Joel's frantic with it, feeling the softness of you so close to the hardness of him. His hands hold your waist, rooting you to him, but then you're moving them up and under your shirt to the flair of your ribcage. The curve of your breasts fit perfectly against the cradle of his thumb and forefinger, and he thinks of everything his hands have done, this is what they were made for.

It must be. When you whine at the feel of this thumb stroking across your pebbled nipple, he thinks for the first time in a long time that maybe his hands aren't so monstrous if they can pull such pretty noises from you.

In fact, the things they've done don't seem to matter at all when he gets to touch you, to pull sounds from you so sweet he'll be tasting you on his tongue all over again just from the memory of them. For all the harm these hands have done, they could never hurt you. You would never let them. You'd tear him apart first.

And he'd let you.

You swallow his groan when you palm his length over his jeans. He stiffens beneath your touch, warm and firm, and grinds into your hand. It's been so long since he's felt the touch of anyone other than himself. He could come just grinding himself against the firm press of your hand against him, if he thought about it too hard.

So he doesn't. He focuses instead on the soft plink plink plink as you run a nail up his ice cold zipper, the way you bite his lip, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He tries to take off his own belt, cold fingers fumbling against even colder metal, but you mumble I got it into his mouth, and his knees quiver.

You do. You always do.

His belt is pulled off and you're tugging him by the loops of his pants and pushing him against his own bed, the sheets still rumpled from the morning. You slip off your own and toss it to the side too, tangling it with his on his bedroom floor. Then, you're so very close to him again, his thigh between your legs as you nip and suckle on his bottom lip. He holds you close - one hand finding its way under your shirt again, cupping your breast fully this time, and the other pulling you firmly against his strong thigh.

You warm his thigh with the burning heat between your legs, grinding yourself against him, the seam of your jeans pulling tight against you. Moans you were pulling from him a moment ago are silenced by your own, your nails digging crescents into his arm as you burrow your face into his neck in an attempt to stifle them.

You're better than he ever dreamed. Softer. Warmer. Stronger. The sounds you make so much prettier than he ever thought. Those three little words so much sweeter within these walls than any other.

Even when you strip off layer after layer, it's better than he dreamed. Summer was barely a taste of you, he realises, when your shirt, your tank, your soft bra, all tumble to the floor and you climb onto the bed behind him.

You kick your jeans off, and he pulls his down too. He can't get his shirt off quick enough, the scars on his body forgotten as he strips bare for you as you watch, lust barely turning to curiousity as you take in the sight of his body.

"Come here," you tell him, and he obeys. You're softer with him when he lies beside you then. Grasping hands turn to gentle strokes, his own hands on your bare flesh mimicking your gentle movements across his skin.

When your hand trails down to his cock, squeezing once again when you feel him throb in your palm, he has to pinch his eyes closed and pretend he's anywhere but here.

"Been a long time," he says through gritted teeth. "Long, long time."

Me too, he thinks he hears you whisper before your lips latch to his again and his soft, worn boxers are slipped down his legs, kicked to the side, forgotten.

You don't look at him, and for that he's grateful. He's less grateful when you start to play with your own nipples and toy with the edge of your panties. He presses a kiss to your shoulder instead, hiding his face against you and breathing you in.

When he opens his eyes again, your panties are off, thighs spread, one hooked lazily over his own, the other stretched out on his sheets.

"Don't have to," you mumble, when he looks down at you, stunned look obvious on his face.

"I want to."

He touches you and you let him. His hands run all over your body, rough, calloused palms dragging across your soft belly, your hips, your thighs. He's dreamed of this, and still it's better than his wildest fantasies.

When your hand wraps around his bare cock, pumping his length once, twice, he thinks that's better than any fantasy too. You practically drag him by the cock, tugging gently to pull him towards you until he's kneeling between your thighs. You lazily stroke him, swiping precum across his tip and making him jerk in your grip. His own hands play with your thighs, massaging and squeezing them, drawing his fingers closer and closer to your apex.

Seven months, three days, and twenty-something hours since he stepped back into Jackson, he slips into you for the first time.

And, fuck, is it divine.

You're slick, and wet, his cock gliding across your skin before he pushes into you, and you both gasp.

He's slow. He trembles. His fingers make dents in your thighs as he grips them. You shuffle your hips, make yourself comfortable, and he holds steady while you adjust to the intrusion. Then, you pull him in, grabbing him by the neck to steal a kiss while he makes space for himself deep inside you, rocking each tentative inch into you until he's rooted inside.

You adjust - let the tenseness in your core release - and he barely holds on. And, just when he thinks he's got a hold of himself and begins fucking you in slow, languid movements, your hand moves and you say those three little words.

"I got it."

For the first ever time, he stops you. His hand pins yours to your hip, his movements stilling as you frown up at him, a threat on the tip of your tongue. So, he begs.

"Let me. Please."

And you do. He slowly swipes a spit slicked thumb against your clit, and watches as you melt into his sheets. By the look of you, the pure relief on your face, he thinks this could be the first time you've ever truly let go, and his ego soars.

It soars again when your legs tremble, rocking his thick cock in you as his thumb works slowly over your clit. You moan his name, and he groans too. He can't keep it back. It's the first time he's ever heard you say it, and he doesn't think it could sound better. Your eyes find his when you say his name again, testing him, only to pull another groan deep from his chest.

A small nod is all you give him as a sign you want more. His thumb moves quicker, popped into his mouth to taste you just for a moment before it swipes around your cunt where you grip him, and back up to your clit.

You come on him, face turned into his sheets, brow furrowed, mouth open as you moan and shake, trembling and pulsating on his cock as you come.

For you, he keeps going. Let's you ride out the waves, fluttering against him, as he barely holds back from the brink himself.

If this is all he gets - if you push him off and walk away now - it would be a good day, he thinks. But you don't. He doesn't even get chance to ask if you want him gone when you're pulling him down, kissing him, rocking your hips against him and murmuring against his throat for him to fuck you.

So, he does.

It feels sloppy, and awkward, his hips not quite knowing how to move any more as he snaps them against yours.

"Don't stop," you whisper to him with a scrape of your teeth against his shoulder. "Don't stop."

He's never been able to disobey you, he realizes. He's never had reason let alone want to. Even now, he does as he's told, keeps fucking forward into you, mattress squeaking and bed rocking as he finally, finally, finds his rhythm.

It's easy then. You spur him on, grip him tight, wrap your legs around his waist. He grunts, growls, can barely stop himself from panting, looking down at you and how you stare back at him and he thinks fuck, this is what it's like to be trusted by you.

With a sudden gasp, he pulls out, slipping from your wet heat to rut against your sopping cunt until he's spurting ropes of come against your mound and belly.

He apologizes, tries to admonish himself for being so quick. You tell him to shut up, hitting his shoulder. He does.

You both sigh in the afterglow. Even in the before, he never had times like this, he doesn't think. It was always frantic, too quick, too drunk, too fumbling. In the after, he could never quite relax enough to enjoy it fully. In the now, it's just about the best he's ever had.

You're still covered in him. Your fingers play idly in it on your belly, and he glows. He'd trace patterns with it over your skin, if only you'd let him. But then, you're up and gone, and he fears you're gone for good until you waltz back in and throw yourself next to him, mess cleaned from your skin as you stretch and yawn beside him.

"I aint tryin' to take your job, y'know," Joel tells you some time later, when the afterglow wanes and sleep pulls at him.

"Right."

He looks to you, the roll of your eyes and tug of a disbelieving smile on your lips visible in the glow of the bedside lamp.

"I promise. I'm just tryin' to... be some place."

You're still. And silent. He thinks he's fucked up for all of one second, until you're smiling sadly up at the ceiling.

"I get that," you say softly. "This is a nice place to be, all things considered."

And, though he thinks he knows what you mean, Yes, he thinks, this is a nice place to be.

This is a good day.

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