#i don’t actually love that they pulled her out of the building this season | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reiderwriter · 8 months

Text

More Than Words

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU!Reader

Requested: yes

Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, your forced to beg your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.

Warnings: Light smut at the end, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.

A/N: Thank you for the request on this one! Ever since I rewatched Season 7 and saw Spencer dancing with everyone at JJ's wedding I've been thinking non-stop about him just holding you close like that and I'm going to shut up now because 8k words of that is more than enough lmao.

You can find my masterlist here, and I just started posting all my stuff on AO3 as well, so if you prefer to read there, check it out!

Despite knowing about your brother’s impending nuptials for the last 18 months, it was in the final two-week stretch that you actually started panicking about getting the date that you’d promised them. It was one sweet little white lie that you had made that had just spiraled out of control, but you’d yet to actually manifest the secretive boyfriend who was “very real actually, mom, he’s coming to the wedding actually.”

It was that statement that had sealed your fate, and always one to wear your emotions on your face when you weren’t on a case, it wasn’t long before someone noticed your building anxiety and guilt.

“Okay, spill Y/N. You look like you just witnessed your favorite author kick a puppy or a kitten or something,” Penelope said when you dropped some files off in her room that morning, spinning around on her chair to face you as soon as she caught your reflection in her monitor.

“It’s this wedding I have to go to,” you sighed dramatically, falling into one of the other chairs in the room kept for visitors.

“Want me to help you get out of it?” Penelope offered, patting your hand comfortingly.

“I’m not sure my brother would be too pleased about that, since it’s his wedding and all. My mother would drag me down all the way from here herself if she had to.”

“Okay, so a no-show is a no-go. Then what gives, my sweet avenging angel? There has to be something serious to get you looking all glum.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair before straightening up and leaning into Penelope more, creating an air of secrecy.

“Promise you won’t tell?”

“Oh sweetie, if only you knew the secrets these four walls held,” she replied dramatically, pulling a laugh from you.

“Last year, I was so, I don’t know, jealous I guess, of all the attention my brother and his fiancee were getting because of the wedding, and it just felt like every time my mom called me, she would only want to talk about them because of the wedding. I felt left out, and I already live so far away anyway, so it’s hard to have that connection with people back home, so I might have told a small, tiny, inconsequential lie that now actually has consequences?” Your face flushes at the confession, and you can see Penelope trying her best not to blurt out her thoughts, intent on letting you continue.

“I told her I was seeing this guy. He’s amazing, he works in the FBI just like me, and he’s smart, and he takes me on dates to these amazing places, like museums and interesting restaurants and to book fairs. I told her he was handsome and that he looked at me like I put the stars in the night sky, and he just doesn't exist, Penelope. And now I have to disappoint my mother again by turning up to my brother's wedding without a date.”

“Oh sweetheart,” was all she said for a minute, and the sympathetic look on her face made you want to run out of there immediately.

“I know, I know, I need to tell her the truth, but I don’t want to do it at the wedding and spoil her happiness. She loves weddings.”

“And this fake boyfriend is supposed to be your plus-one?” she asked.

“My invitation read ‘To our darling sister and her mystery man,’” you groaned, wondering how you could have been so childish in the first place. You’d acted like any child on a playground would, inventing lies to make yourself seem more important and cooler.

“I think I have the perfect solution for you, angel, but you might not like it,” Penelope grinned from her chair, leaning back and playing with the pen in her hands nefariously as if she’d been waiting for this chance her whole life. You didn’t trust that look, but you had no other option, so you took a deep breath and listened to her plan.

–X–

Three days later, and you were suddenly pacing the hallways with a coffee and a croissant, poised and ready to kidnap an FBI Agent the second he passed you.

At first, you’d laughed at the suggestion she’d made, outlandish as it was. But 72 hours of reflection, and a timely phone call from your mother, and suddenly you were on board and ready to lock on to your target. You stopped pacing when you heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of Spencer Reid. You were thankful that his schedule was so regular and timed down to the minute that you had just enough time to ambush him in the hallway before any other member of your team noticed.

“Spencer! Here I bought you coffee and a croissant from that cafe I mentioned a while back,” you panicked, unloading the gifts into his arms quickly, taking him off guard, before checking left and right before pushing him into the nearest empty room and shutting it behind you.

“Good morning to you, too, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re in a closet right now?” he asked, looking down at you with knitted eyebrows.

“Yes,” you gumped, afraid to say anymore.

“Are you going to tell me what the reason is?”

“I need you to be my boyfriend for a weekend,” you finally blurted out.

“You need me to… Just for a weekend?” He looked confused, and you felt your cheeks flame up, as you tried your best to explain the situation for him.

“My brother is getting married in LA this weekend, and I need a date. I told my mom last year that I was in a relationship with a really great guy who also works for the FBI.”

“Oh. So, you broke up with him and don’t want to tell your mom?”

“No, he never existed. Long story, I can explain on the plane, but I really need you to come with me! I’ll pay for everything, and I’ll even get you this coffee and any pastry of your choice every day for a month, please, please, please!” You begged him, so desperate that you were moments away from dropping to your knees and grabbing his leg, refusing to move until he acquiesced. You didn’t have to in the end.

“Oh, sure, I’ll go. When did you say it was?” Your jaw fell open in shock, and it took a few seconds to pull yourself back together as you reacted to his words.

“This weekend? The flight is tomorrow at 6 a.m.” You smiled sheepishly as his eyes bugged out of his head.

“This weekend? What were you going to do if I said no?” He laughed at you a little, taking a sip of the coffee you bought him.

“Honestly? Plan B was to cry, and plan C was to kill off my mystery man in a freak accident.”

“Wow, we just started fake dating and you’re already trying to bump me off.” His smile made you burn hotter than before, as you playfully hit his arm in response.

“Stop saying we’re dating. I pulled you in here to ask you privately because I didn’t want weird rumors circulating in the office,” you pouted.

“Then you better let me out of the closet, Y/N, before people think we’re doing something we shouldn’t be. At least three people saw you drag me in here, you know.”

With that, you rush to open the door and run out, shouting a reminder back at him.

“Just be ready, okay. I’ll see you at the airport at 6 a.m.”

–X–

The flight, despite being ridiculously long, was altogether quite pleasant, and you made it back to California in one piece, Spencer trailing behind you like a lost puppy for a while, letting you take up the role of “airport dad” as you guided him through the airport and to the hotel where the wedding was being held.

“So what’s our cover story?” He asked in the taxi on the way there, breaking the comfortable silence.

“What cover story?” you asked, looking up at him from your phone, still focused on just getting to the destination.

“Where did we meet, how long have we been dating, how much do they know about me?” He listed off the possible questions that his parents were absolutely going to interrogate him with soon. “I need to prepare so we don’t get caught out, right?”

“Oh, right. Based on what I told them, we met at work and we’ve been seeing each other casually for about a year now. I didn’t give them a name yet, which annoys my mom to no end, but I was always pretty private as a child so she didn’t find it all that suspicious. Other than that, they don’t know that much about my mystery boyfriend apart from the things we’ve done together.” He listened attentively as you spoke, taking each of your words in and committing them to memory.

“What was our first date?” He asked.

“Coffee shop. That place I got you the coffee from earlier, it’s called Flondon. I’m a regular there, so it made sense to use it in my story.”

“What else have we done together?”

“There was a book fair in New York a few months back that we, uh, spent the weekend at. You surprised me for my birthday with the tickets.”

“Wow, so I’m a really great boyfriend then.” He joked a little, and you let out another groan of annoyance at his teasing. You didn’t get the chance to finish your conversation though, as the taxi finally pulled up to the hotel.

You climbed out of the taxi after paying the driver, Spencer having already left to grab your bags, before walking into the foyer of the hotel.

“Y/N, just one last thing before we go in,” he stopped you at the door, grabbing you by the arm gently. “Are we… the, um. Hotels tend to get booked up pretty early for weddings, and I’m sure your family will be suspicious if we don’t share a room so…”

He didn’t have to finish voicing his thoughts before you were cursing, not having made the connection before.

“Shit, you’re right. My brother made the booking for me months ago. We just have to go in and get the room key but I totally forgot… It’s fine, right? We’ve roomed together on cases, haven’t we?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No, we haven’t. 67% of our motel bookings allow for single occupation rooms for Agents, I end up sharing a room with Morgan for 15% of overnight stays where double occupation is necessary, Hotch for another 17%, and the remaining 1% is made up of outliers where I had to share with Rossi or Prentiss, but we…we haven’t shared before.” He gestured between the two of you for a moment there, letting the facts sit with you.

“Spencer, it’s okay with me, is it okay with you? I understand if you’re not comfortable with it. We can just turn around now if you want.”

“No, no it’s totally fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable with it. Morgan says I snore, so I guess I’m not the best roommate in the world.” He smiled at you then, reassuringly, and moved his hand down your arm until it reached your hand.

You looked down at where his hand had entwined with yours and your heart gave a little jolt. Spencer didn’t like physical touch, and you knew that. You tried not to initiate any contact with him, despite being a touchy person, but there had been times after particularly tough cases and with close calls where you’d thrown yourself into the nearest person's arms, and he always happened to be near.

But those hugs had been thoughtless, natural reactions to stressful situations and this was intentional, and more importantly, he’d started it.

“Sorry, I just assumed we should get used to, uh, touching each other, I guess? We’re going to be doing it all weekend, you know, might as well start now.” He gave you an awkward closed-lip smile, and you giggled at his awkward explanatory tone. Squeezing his hand a bit, you grabbed your suitcase again in your free hand, and pushed open the door with your shoulder, pulling Spencer in behind you.

The lobby was filled with people arriving for the wedding, and you instantly spotted three cousins and two aunts from across the room, giving them a little smile as you made your way to the reception desk, Spencer right at your side.

“Hi, reservation for Y/N L/N, please.”

“Sister of the groom, right? Your mother asked me to give her a call when you arrived. Please wait one minute.” She handed you your key, and you felt yourself go pale, turning around to Spencer for reassurance.

“Oh god, she’s coming now, what do we do?”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay, we knew we were going to have to see your mom tonight at the reception anyways.”

“You’re right. Okay, right. Okay.” You breathed out, as Spencer wrapped his other arm around you, holding you in a closer embrace while keeping your hands locked together.

“One of my aunts is looking at us. She looks like she wants to say something. Oh god, she’s coming over, Spencer act natural,”

“Saying act naturally is actually counter-active-” but he didn’t have time to finish before you had turned to greet the older woman, disentangling yourself from Spencer’s arms as you hugged the woman warmly.

“It’s so good to see you, Y/N, you know how we all worry about you doing that job of yours. The other week we saw you on the news about that tragedy with the young girl…” she trailed off, giving you a worrying look before quickly shifting her gaze to her actual target, Spencer.

“I think I saw you too, young man. You must be Y/N’s boyfriend,” she smiled at him, waiting to hear a response so she could return to the other matrons with the gossip.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, I’m Spencer.” You could tell he was thankful that the woman hadn’t stuck her hand out to shake his, as he positioned himself mostly behind you, keeping his hands occupied by letting one settle on your hip and the other keeping a hold of your suitcase.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?” You heard your mother before you saw her, turning around in your place to finally see her, as Spencer whipped his head around as well. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

Your mother had none of the restraint of your aunt, and unfortunately, you’d inherited your clingy side from her, which is why she immediately swooped in to give Spencer a hug. To his credit, he greeted her warmly as well and didn’t avoid the touch, but he kept it short and polite nonetheless.

“Mom, how did you know…”

“You tell me about your coworkers all the time, I’m just surprised I didn’t work it out sooner. I always said that you talked about that Spencer with a fond tone, you should ask your father, he’ll tell you that I did.” You rolled your eyes at your mother’s words, doing your best to avoid Spencer’s gaze. He’d fallen back into place by your side as you greeted your mother.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, You know, Y/N has been keeping you as this big secret for the last year, and it’s so nice to see that you’re actually real. You’re here!” She sounded so excited for you that your heart almost broke under the weight of your guilt, knowing that you’d have to come clean at some point after the wedding. As it was, you were already going to have to try really hard to avoid the photographer and videographer throughout the night so you didn’t have to be constantly reminded of your idiocy whenever your mother got the photo albums out,

“Sorry, the two of you are probably exhausted after that flight, right? Go and get yourself unpacked. The rehearsal dinner is at 8 p.m. so we’ll catch up then, sweetheart.” She left in a whirlwind, having deposited you next to the elevators, and left you with no other option but to do exactly as she said, making your way to your space for the weekend.

–X–

The following few hours had been a little awkward, to say the least. You’d awkwardly pulled away from one another in the elevator up to the room, apologizing for invading each other's personal space. The room was a decent size, but still small enough that you’d be constantly tripping up over one another the entire weekend if you weren’t careful.

Reid carefully unpacked his tuxedo when you got into the room, and then quietly informed you that he’d need a shower. You’d unpacked your own things while he did, trying not to listen to the water flowing over his body in the next room. His earlier touch had ignited something in you, and your heart was beating at his every gesture now, something that you were sure it hadn’t done before.

What was it about weddings that made you so open to even the possibility of romance that even someone so off-limits could become the object of your affection?

So you tried not to listen, not to wonder why it was taking the man so long to just take a shower, not to let your mind wander to a place where it was perfectly acceptable to wonder what he looked like in that shower, and you unpacked and organized your things.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m really sorry but I forgot to bring my clothes with me,” he called awkwardly through the door a few minutes after you heard the water turn off, and you turned to the bathroom, not expecting the sight before you.

You’d assumed from the quiet volume of his voice that he was calling from within the bathroom itself, but instead, he stood awkwardly in front of you, a towel wrapped around his waist and torso, held together desperately in one hand.

“Oh shit, sorry, I’ll just turn around, I guess,” you stumbled over the words, dragging your eyes back up to his face as you did so, whipping yourself around to stare ahead of you.

“No, no, it’s my fault. I was so hasty I forgot my outfit for tonight. It’s okay.” You heard him fumble for his clothes and return to the bathroom quickly with another mumbled apology, finally allowing you to let out a deep, almost dreamy sigh, startling yourself. Mentally chastising yourself once again, you finished your organizing and let yourself fall onto the bed in the middle of the room sleepily while you waited for him to come out again.

You must have dozed off a little because you woke with a jolt when you felt a soft touch on your arm. There he was above you, a soft and concerned look on his face as he woke you up as kindly as he could.

“Y/N, it’s 7 p.m. We need to get ready for the rehearsal.” He whispered as if he weren’t too bothered if you didn’t want to go down at all, content to let you sleep. But you forced yourself upright anyways, and nodded at his words, swiftly moving yourself towards the bathroom he had since departed.

“Thanks for waking me, Spence,” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, gathering your towels and change of clothes before turning back to him. In the four hours you’d apparently been dead to the world, he’d managed to dry his hair, change his clothes, and, from the looks of the book on the bedside table, read through an entire book twice.

He noticed you looking and cleared his throat. “Sorry, you looked so tired I didn’t want to wake you, so I just sat here and read while you got some sleep.”

“It’s okay, Spence. I guess I was pretty tired. I’m gonna go…” you gestured towards the shower and stepped towards it with an awkward smile, not letting him answer before you had closed the door between you and taken a deep breath, setting thoughts of him aside for the night before you focused on getting yourself ready to face your lies.

An hour later, you were making your way back down to the lobby, having received a text from your brother that that was where everyone was gathering before making their way to the dining room. Spencer offered you his arm in the elevator on the way down.

“Here, grab my arm.” He said softly down to you, a sweet smile playing on his lips.

“Oh yeah that makes sense,” you said distractedly, looping your own through his and leaning into him.

“It’ll also stop you from picking your nails,” he joked.

“I don’t pick my nails!”

“You so do. You do it when you’re nervous and when you lie about something. Last month on that case in Chicago when that officer asked for your number, you told him you had a boyfriend and started picking your nails,” he laughed down at you, enjoying your pouting face a bit too much as he profiled you.

“You’re one to talk. The last time a woman asked you out, you started rambling about the linguistic history of the phrase “go out,” in the romantic sense. She stood there for five minutes before she gave up.”

“Wait, when did that happen? I don’t remember any woman trying to ask me out.”

“Then you’re even denser than I realized, Doctor Reid, because they do it constantly.” Your back and forth ended there, though, as the elevator doors finally opened into the lobby. You smoothed out your dress and tried your best to act natural as the two of you made your entrance.

“Y/N! Over here,” you heard your brother and saw him wave at you from the other side of the room, his fiancee next to him receiving guests.

“It’s been so long since I saw my kid sister. Get over here,” he smiled at you, beckoning you over, and you released your hold on Reid to give your brother a warm hug.

“Now who is this kid sister you’re talking about because last I checked you’re only 18 months older than me.”

“18 months, 18 years, all that matters is that I am, in fact, the older one,” he released you from the bear hug and glanced up to Reid, standing awkwardly watching the scene waiting for an invitation to the conversation. “Holy shit, you’re real.”

“Hey! Be nice. This is Spencer, he’s my… he’s my boyfriend, we work together.” You felt your cheeks flame as you introduced the two of them, your brother looking at Spencer through knitted eyebrows, taking on a faux protective stance.

“Spencer, hey. Mom mentioned you were here earlier, but I didn’t think you’d be so gangly… It’s my wedding, and I’ve been told I have to keep all threats to a minimum, but if I see you getting all handsy with my sister, just know that I have a blackbelt in jiu-jitsu.”

“No, you don’t. You have a yellow belt in karate at most, and you got that at age 10.” You laughed at the man.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Oh my god, it’s been almost 20 years, I already apologized!”

“Apologised for what?” Spencer finally managed to butt in, watching your sibling bickering as if it were a tennis match.

“This little rodent,” your brother said, scruffing up your hair as he spoke, “broke my wrist when she was 8 and I was 10.”

“It was self-defense! You were trying to use your karate moves on me and I panicked!”

“And now, you’re a hot-shot FBI Agent and you get to break bad guys wrists all the time.” He finished for you and you laughed, suddenly glad to be back around family.

“So, Spencer, you’re an FBI Agent, too? I thought my mom mentioned something about you being a Doctor earlier.”

“I am. A Doctor. And an FBI Agent, uh, they’re PhD’s not medical degrees, though. Three of them, Math, Chemistry and Engineering. I also have Bachelor's Degrees in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology.” He answered, and you looked up at him proudly, taking his hand as you noticed him growing slightly uncomfortable with the attention from your brother.

“Wow,” was all your brother said, until he finished the statement with “All those degrees and my sister was the best you could do, huh?” You punched him in the arm after that, and you felt Spencer physically relax a bit, twinning your fingers with his as you chastised your brother.

“Anyway, thanks for taking the time to come to our, hopefully, lovely wedding, the reception will be starting soon. The dining hall is just through there.” You hugged your brother again, and, with a breath of relief, led Spencer down the hall to the dining hall.

“That went well, I think?” you whispered to him, conspiratorially.

“Your family is nice,” he replied. “Does he always act like that, or is it the wedding spirit possessing him somehow?”

“If you’re referring to my brother, I think he’s probably partaken in a few flutes of champagne already this evening. But yes, he’s always like that. They all like to treat me like a baby when they see me.”

“I think it’s nice. They care about you a lot,” his words were warm, but his eyes were sad, and you remembered what you’d been told of Spencer’s own childhood and felt your heart ache for him. His mom loved him a lot, but Spencer had needed to grow up much too fast. You squeezed his hand, still clasped in yours and before you knew it you were pushing onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Spencer. For being here,” you said as his now flushed face met yours. You didn’t let him respond though, simply pushing forward into the dining hall, ready to live in the fantasy of your own making for the evening.

–X–

“Spencer, you were amazing!” You giggled, walking down the hall to your room, stumbling slightly in your excitement and haste.

“Those magic tricks? The little babies couldn’t get enough of you,” you spun around, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and pulling him in close to you, letting him hold you against the door to your room. He laughed a little at your antics as he pulled out the key card.

“Y/N, are you drunk?” he asked, one hand firmly planted on your waist to steady you now.

“No! I’m just happy. And if that happiness was caused by an array of cocktails forced into my hands by distant aunts and cousins who all wanted to know about my absolute catch of a boyfriend, then that is simply secondary to the feeling itself. And furthermore-” He pushed the door behind you in on itself, and your words were cut off by your legs giving out beneath you.

You were so sure you were about to take a tumble to the floor that you shut your eyes tight and braced for an impact that didn’t come. Opening them again slowly, you saw Spencer closer than before, his face mere inches from your own as he held you in an improvised dip, having caught you just before you’d hit the ground.

“Sorry. I… Shit, maybe I am drunk,” you breathed out, not letting your eyes drift from his own, knowing that if you ever considered a glance down at his lips at that moment, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from closing the measly distance separating you.

“You should use the bathroom first,” he told you, but without making any move of his own, stuck in that pose with you as if he was content to stay there for as long as he could hold you. “You should take your make-up off. We have a long day tomorrow, right?”

You were the first one to move, letting your feet find a more solid footing beneath you and twisting up from his grip. His hands didn’t leave your body as you became more upright though, still keeping you in that close embrace.

“Yeah, I should… I should go wash up.” You said, and he nodded, still looking at you with the same intensity as before.

“Spencer, that means you need to move,” you whispered quietly, and he jumped back as soon as the words were out of your mouth.

“Sorry. I’ll just… I’ll just be over there,” he held his hands up in surrender before moving further into the room, leaving you next to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom and were ready to sleep once again. Thankfully, you of earlier that day had managed to store your pajamas in the bathroom ready for their use. Upon exiting the bathroom, you saw that Spencer was getting ready to sleep too, slacks and a shirt having been replaced by a pair of flannel pants and a very old and beaten-up CalTech sweater, looking perplexedly down at the bed.

“Spence, what’s wrong?”

“We didn’t speak any further about the sleeping arrangements…” he mumbled and you looked at the bed in front of you, still confused at his meaning. “Y/N, we have to share the bed.”

“Oh.” You knew you probably sounded dumb, but after the amount of alcohol thrust upon you that night, that was all you could muster at this point.

“I can sleep on the floor if that makes you feel more comfortable. It’s probably no worse than some of the motel beds we’ve stayed on before,” he offered, but you instantly shook your head.

“No, I dragged you out here, I’m not making you sleep on the floor as well,” you sighed and made your way to the side of the bed you’d slept on earlier, beginning to pull the covers down so you could get in.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, perplexed by your somehow contrasting words and actions.

“I’m getting ready for bed. It’s late.” You replied, not looking up at him again, for fear that he’d spot the blush on your face. “You should too,” you continued, patting the other side of the bed, gesturing for him to get in, too.

“Oh.” It was his turn to stand there shell-shocked in the moment, and you almost let out a giggle but held back thinking that would be too much for him to take in at that moment.

“Come on, Spence, I’m tired, I’m sure you’re tired. We’re just sharing a bed, it’s not like you have to marry me after this.” You climbed fully into the bed, making sure that your nightgown covered you decently before pulling the covers up around you. Spencer mumbled something that you didn’t catch, but he acquiesced and climbed in after you. You turned your head over on the pillow to face him, turning onto your side as you watched him turn his head to you as well.

“What?” he smiled, noticing your stare.

“Nothing. Good night, Spence,” you smiled, finally letting your eyes drop closed.

“Good night, Y/N.” He whispered, and the sound of his voice carried you off to sleep.

–X–

You weren’t sure if it was the light streaming in through the window or the rise and fall of a chest that wasn’t your own was the first thing to wake you in the morning, but nonetheless, you woke from the comfortable warmth of sleep and found yourself wrapped around your fake boyfriend.

To be fair to yourself, he was also wrapped around you. Your head had gravitated from your pillow to his chest, his left arm wrapped up and around your back. Your leg had also risen in the night, pulled up over his waist, held in place by his other arm, which was, almost embarrassingly, cradling your ass, pulling you in closer to his core. Unsure about how to go about disentangling yourself, you resigned yourself to just waking the man up.

“Spencer… Spencer,” you whispered, letting the hand that had fallen onto his chest tap him slightly. He stirred a little and then cracked an eye open, looking confused with the situation.

“Y/N, is it time for the wedding?” He asked through half-lidded eyes, evidently wanting nothing more than to fall back into whatever dreams he was having. You shifted uncomfortably in his arms then, suddenly growing stiff in the position you’d probably held for hours, and found your nightgown had risen dangerously high on your body, his hand on your near bare ass.

“No, no, it’s just…” You rolled your hips against his in discomfort, and the movement had his eyes breaking open as he finally took in your positions.

“Shit, I’m….Sorry, I don’t know what happened, I must’ve grabbed you when we were sleeping,” he said, reluctantly slipping his hands away from your body, trailing his hand around your leg, and letting it fall onto his stomach. The movement sent a shiver up your spine, as you finally had enough room to lift your torso up, not quite ready to relinquish the proximity of your entire body yet.

“It’s okay, I think it was probably me who started it in the first place. Those pillows weren’t that comfortable…” you tried to explain, the hand on his chest rubbing slow circles into his skin before you could realize what you were doing.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position then as well, clumsily. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, you had no choice but to move with him, suddenly finding yourself straddling him, the bedsheets suddenly pressed away from your body. If he looked down, he’d see a lot more than you planned for him to see, your panties on clear display as your nightgown twisted itself up into the sheets.

“Shit sorry,” he moaned out again, as you steadied yourself with hands on his shoulders.

“No, it’s okay, I didn’t move quick enough.” You quickly pulled your dress down again, and extracted yourself from the bed, lifting your leg up and off of him and finally pushing off the bed, leaving him sat there.

His hands fell into his lap and you started gathering things around the room, readying yourself for the busy day ahead.

“I have to be in the bridal suite at 11, so we have about… two hours to kill before then. Do you want to grab a shower first, or should I?”

“You first,” he mumbled quickly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “You should go first. You probably have more to do today, right?” You nodded at his words and made your way to the bathroom again. Out of the corner of your eye though, as you let the door close behind you, you watched his hands come up to cradle his flushed face, as he let his head fall back again into the pillow.

–X–

The morning was so busy after that, you barely had any chance to talk to Spencer again. You spent the early afternoon in the bridal suite with the wedding party, welcoming your new sister to the family, then made your way to the aisle space set up outside, checking up on last-minute details and helping to flower girls into position. You weren’t walking down the aisle yourself, but you could see that the extra help was letting the very stressed-out Maid of Honour get some well-needed respite. And more importantly, it stopped your wandering thoughts from letting you fantasize about Spencer.

You’d woken up in bed next to people before, of course, but it had never felt so comfortable. In fact, other people you’d slept with said you were pretty distant in your sleep, choosing to move as far away from physical touch as you could get, but you knew with no doubt that you had been the one to move in first, to touch him first. That he’d pulled you even closer had your heart singing, and you wanted to be wrapped up in him all over again, suddenly desperate to seek him out. So you distracted yourself, not wanting to make any mistakes you would regret when you were no longer wrapped up in your own fantasy.

So you kept your distance as the ceremony started. Then the wedding march was playing, and you were holding back tears as his hand slipped into yours, your head falling onto his shoulder as you watched your brother marry the love of his life.

You kept your distance as you reached the reception hall, watching all the old ladies on both sides fawn over him, asking him questions, and watching from his side as he blushed at the attention. You swept the hair out of his eyes as the couple was announced, and you took your seat for the wedding meal and the speeches, his hand falling to your back to guide you to your chair, pulling it out for you like a true gentleman.

You kept your distance as your new sister tossed the bouquet, and despite your low effort and the ravenous looks of the bridesmaids, it fell neatly into your hands as if it belonged there. You ran excitedly over to him to show him and he lifted you into a hug, caught up in your own excitement.

You kept your distance until you realized you’d not kept your distance at all, physically unable to keep yourself away from the man who had somehow stolen your heart in the middle of the night.

“I know that look,” your brother said, somehow sneaking up on you later into the night as you watched Spencer perform even more of his magic tricks for the smaller guests.

“What look?” you asked, not for one second letting your eyes drift from Spencer.

“You’re in love with him,” he said, taking a swig of the drink in his hand.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said reflexively, turning to the drinks table behind you and picking up one for yourself.

“No, he isn’t. Or at least he wasn’t before this weekend,” your brother said, as your eyes finally snapped up to him.

“Oh, don’t act all surprised, Miss FBI Profiler. You may be good, but I’ll always be your older brother, and contrary to popular opinion, I do in fact pay attention to things.” You sighed and leaned back against the table.

“How’d you figure it out?”

“You were picking your nails the entire way through the reception dinner when the aunties were asking you about your relationship. You did that when we were younger too, when you tried lying to Mom and Dad about how I broke my wrist. Doesn’t take two PhD’s to figure that out.”

“Three.”

“Three what?”

“Three PhDs. He has three of them.” You sighed dreamily and ran a stressed hand through your head.

“He’s just my coworker. I didn’t want to disappoint Mom by coming alone after telling her all those stories, but now…” You tried to explain yourself but words were escaping you in that moment.

“You should tell him, trust me. He definitely feels the same.”

“How are you so confident about that? How did you manage to end up with all of the confidence between the two of us, when I can barely work up the courage to tell my own mother I’m still single?”

“Y/N, look at me. You got the brains, I had to have something. And no man flies to the opposite side of the country on a few day's notice for a girl who is just a friend, okay? That’s more logic than confidence, and that’s supposed to be your strong suit.”

You considered his words for a second, turning back to look at Spencer. Evidently, he’d finished his magic show and was beginning to say goodbye to the children, but he felt your eyes on him somehow and met your gaze. He brought his hand up into a shy wave before a little girl grabbed his attention again, and he looked at her seriously, nodding along to each word she was saying.

“Fuck, what do I do, I’m not good with… any of this.” You turned back to your brother, but he’d left you there, stranded in your own thoughts as you let yourself hope, let your brain dream that one day this would be your wedding and the man by your side would be Spencer Reid.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom request the presence of all the couples on the dancefloor for this next song.” You saw your brother again, next to his wife, whispering his explanations in his ear as she turned to look at you and winked as well. God, they were going to be a force to be reckoned with together now, you thought, as people started pushing past you to make their way to the dancefloor.

You recognized the song of course, and it was almost so on the nose you almost rolled your eyes. More Than Words by Extreme. Perfect.

“Y/N, may I have this dance?” He had somehow snuck up on you from behind as you watched your brother, and held his hand out to you. You put your drink down and took it, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

“I didn’t think you danced, Dr. Reid,” you teased him as he pulled you in, letting his hands rest on your waist, as yours came up around his neck, gently letting him sway you side to side in time with the music.

“I don’t really, but it seemed wrong not to,” he smiled. “I’m at a wedding, with the most beautiful girl on my arm, and the couple made it very clear that we should be dancing, so here I am.” You blushed at his words as he spoke. He removed his hands from your waist, instead grasping one of yours in his own as he pulled you closer.

You stared up at him with a soft smile for a few more seconds before letting your head fall back to his chest.

“I know I’ve said it a lot this weekend, but thank you, Spencer.” You said into his shirt, letting him hold you close as the song went on.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.” He insisted, and you looked up at him again. “Actually… I didn’t exactly agree to this with the best of intentions.”

Your heart lept to your throat as you stared up at him, hoping that he would take your silence as a means to continue.

“I’ve been… I thought that maybe…” he struggled to get the words out, his face aflame with the effort.

“You promised me those coffees right?” He finally stuttered out, and you were left confused and a little disappointed.

“Yeah, Spence, it’s okay, I’ll get you those coffees for the month, just like we promised.” You couldn’t help the sad smile that played on your lips as you answered him, so sure that he was about to say something else.

“No, I mean… Y/N I don’t want the coffee. I want this. I want us to go home, and make everything that you made up come true. I want to take you on a date to that coffee shop. I want to be a boyfriend you can call and tell your mom about because it’s serious and it’s going to work out between us. I even… God, I even spent the morning looking up book fairs in New York City so I could make that come true as well,” he rambled the words out and you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.

“Spencer,” you said softly, trying to get him to focus on you, but he’d started speaking and he wasn’t going to be stopped so easily.

“And if any of that creeps you out, just say the word and I’ll never mention it again. Because I know I’m not good with this, and when I feel something, I tend to feel it overwhelmingly, and Derek tells me I can be really oblivious sometimes, which I don’t really get, but-”

“Spencer,” you put a bit more force into your words this time, punctuating them with a hand on his face.

“Spencer, kiss me.” And he does. He takes your head in both of his hands, and he draws you up to him perfectly, letting your hands fall to the lapels of his suit jacket as he steals your breath away one more time. The kiss is lingering, but short, and he hesitantly backs away, looking around to spot witnesses. But you don’t care and you pull him back down for another, and another, until you’re just two lovers on the dance floor that cannot get enough of each other, gasping for breath between chaste kisses as you let him hold you there, gently swaying.

“Spencer,” you whisper finally, forehead resting on his, as the song finally draws to a close.

“Yes?”

“Spencer, take me to bed.” You tell him, and he nods. He leads you over to the bride and groom where you offer each of them a hug and a happy future before making your excuses and running away with Spencer back into the hotel like two love-drunk teenagers, a mess of giggles and stolen kisses as you stumble up to your room for the second time that weekend.

But this time, you don’t hesitate, don’t pull away. He backs you into the door and you let him hold you there, his mouth on yours, your tongues entwined as he fumbles for his key card. You fall together into the room, laughing and smiling the entire way, not letting him escape your touch.

“May I?” He asks, playing with the zipper of your dress as you kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck, anywhere you can reach, nodding and moaning your consent. The moment the zip is pulled down, he lets you go for a second, and the dress falls straight to the floor. You're practically bare in front of him, chest exposed, neck littered with the beginning of love bites that he’s about to absolutely build upon.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, softly, wrapping his arms around you again, lifting you up so your legs can wrap around him as he delivers one more soul-crushing kiss to your lips. Your brain is a mess of emotions, your only solid thought is that you will never let him go again. You both eagerly worked on unbuttoning his shirt together, a desperate mess of breaths as he finally laid you on the bed. His hand fell to your core, tracing a finger over your sensitive nub as you begged him for more, needing to feel all of him, to devour his very existence.

He pulled himself out of his remaining clothes, lips still attached to yours, climbing over you and holding you tenderly, his arms wrapping around your body as his legs came to settle between your own. Dropping his forehead to yours, he finally spoke again, his hand dropping between the two of you to line himself up.

“Is this… are you sure?” You heard the restraint in his voice, the desperation, the love, the overwhelming lust as he held himself back, needing to hear your consent.

“Spencer, I love you,” you whispered, and he finally pushed himself into you, joining the two of you together in a moment of bliss. You shared another sweet kiss, letting him swallow each and every one of your moans as he began thrusting into you, your hips rising to meet him in your delirious pleasure.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ears, brushing the hair off your face every now and again to tell you how beautiful you looked, and how well you were doing.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N, you’re doing so good for me,” he pressed kisses against your neck with each word, keeping his pace steady as you chased your inevitable high, already clenching around his thick cock.

“Spencer, I love you,” you let the words drop from your tongue like a prayer, repeating them over and over with each thrust as small tears welled up out of your eyes. He kissed them away from your cheeks, listening to each confession as your stomach tightened and your climax spilled over you. He grabbed your waist then, leaving one hand cupping and stroking your cheek as his own thrusts grew sloppy, finally spending himself fully inside you.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into you then, unwilling to let you go for even one second. You spent the rest of the night whispering the words back and forth to one another, waiting with bated breath for the fantasy to break, for the magic of the wedding to wear off.

It never did.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds smut #So much plot #maturereiding

3K notes · View notes

arachine · 1 year

Text

. . . 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 ! ˚₊✩‧₊

— pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

general tags: college! au, established relationship, fluff, suggestive

content warnings: period cramps, reader is a baby, ellie is patient, kissing, allusions to sex, brief mention of dealer!ellie + not proofread and also not my best work bc i was in pain !

note: this is super self-indulgent bc i am, unfortunately, on my monthly, and so, i am making it everyone’s problem >.<

ellie’s annoyed. actually, she’s concerned—maybe, slightly, kind of more than that too, but right now, she’s annoyed. this wasn’t like you—not answering messages, not answering calls.

she’d understand it if you were busy, especially since finals season was steadily approaching as the days passed, but she knew you didn’t have any plans today. that much was confirmed the last time she’d spoken to you, which was, if she could recall (she could recall it perfectly), last night at 8:00 p.m.

future wife 👰‍♀️: gn baby, see you tomorrow for breakfast! get some sleep ok? <33

ellie: alr goodnight baby. i’ll come get you at 9 ok? don’t oversleep this time, wanna get some french toast before all the athletes take it :/

future wife 👰‍♀️: never gonna let me live it down, huh?

ellie: never!

future wife 👰‍♀️: god alr, i won’t oversleep!!! promise :3 now gn fr this time!!! gts!!!

ellie: ok bossy i’m going to sleep 🫡 love you

that was the last message she’d sent to you that night. this morning, however, she made an effort to send you a slew of follow-up texts before making her way over to your dorm:

ellie: good morning sexy, you up?

ellie: it’s french toast time ☝🏻

ellie: don’t tell me you’re sleeping…

there was five minutes sent in-between each message, and yet, still no response. that’s when she got the bright idea to call.

“alright, this should wake her up,” she raised the phone to her ear, pacing around her apartment while waiting for the line to go through. to her dismay, it rung a few times before going straight to voicemail—to which she almost got excited over because you’ve got one of those annoying ass voicemails that sound like someone picked up the line.

“hey […], this is (name). sorry you can’t reach me right now, but leave a message and i’ll get back to you as soon as i c—”

“fucking hell.” ellie pinches the knot between her brows and sighs, ending the call before voicemail you can finish your sentence. again, she calls, thinking this time you’ll answer, but to no avail. it goes right to voicemail.

“the fuck…” she doesn’t even bother leaving a message. beelines right to her closet and grabs her sneaks, a hoodie, and her wallet, then heads out of her apartment building and begins the trek to your dormitory.

when she gets there, she buzzes in with her student keycard, and pads right up to the security desk. just as she’s about to open her mouth, one of the guards sitting interrupts her.

“can i see your proof of residence, please?” he says blankly, raising a fig bar up to his mouth.

“randy, really? you know me, i’m here almost every other day—just without my girlfriend—who i’m actually here to see,” she raises a finger, forearms leaning forward over the desk. randy feigns indifference, and opts to stuff the last of his bar in his mouth.

“you’re not a resident here, ellie. sorry, but you know the rules.”

“how about you shove the rules up your a—actually, that’s alright. my buddy right here will sign me in as a guest.” she grins devilishly at the dark haired man across the lobby, blinking once, twice, before flashing him a smile.

“jesse! my life saver, my best-friend, my messiah, my—“

“what do you want, ellie?” he rolls his eyes, pulling out his student keycard to flash randy. ellie purses her lips as if she’s been found out, then pulls jesse aside by the cloth of his jacket. she leans in real close so that what she says is out of earshot.

“sign me in as a guest and i’ll give you free weed during your next visit,” she bargains, wiggling her brows like she knows the offer is too good to pass up. jesse doesn’t answer her right away. instead, opts to tease her. puts his index finger on his chin, and opens his stance as if he’s really mulling it over. ellie’s not impressed.

a beat, then, he shrugs, mumbling a quick ‘better keep your word williams’.

ellie grins, something real big and cheshire-like, because she knows him. who’d be stupid enough to pass up free weed? exactly, no one. especially not a stressed college student, that’s for sure.

“thanks man, you’re really doing me a solid, you know,” she pats his back, to which he mutters a knowing ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’. she watches intently as he signs her in under his name, then makes a face at randy when she hands over her student keycard for him to keep.

“see ya later rand’!” the auburn haired girl says with the flick of a hand, turning the corner of the desk to get to the elevators.

“yeah, whatever.”

. . .

once the elevator comes to a halt on your floor, ellie gives jesse a final thank you before departing. as she walks down the winding hallway, she can’t help but to think the worst. what if you were unconscious? what if you’d been axe-murdered? what if you’d been kidnapped? all very unlikely, she knows, but not impossible.

when her mind sifts through a few more frightening scenarios, she realizes she’s already made it to your door. should she knock? she feels like she should knock, but then she figures if all her previous attempts to wake you up were unsuccessful, then who’s to say a few measly knocks would do the trick?

she decides against it. instead, she unhooks her carabiner from her jeans and fiddles around with her set of keys until she finds the spare you’d given her. until now, she’d never used it. the day you’d given it to her, you’d told her it was strictly for ‘emergencies’, and what better time to use it than now? this was surely an emergency, right?

the door unlocks and she immediately goes to twist the knob, pushes the door open and then shuts it closed behind her.

“babe, you here?” she calls out, walking through the kitchen, “you alive?” turns down the hall, “you in one piece?”

a beat. silence—save for the heavy padding of her boots as she makes her way towards your bedroom. the door is cracked open, just by a sliver, but she can see—or at least somewhat make out—the beginnings of a sleeping silhouette.

she pushes the door open and ambles to your bedside. you were fast asleep. curled up into a tight little ball with the duvet pulled up to your chin, and a mean little pout on your lips. it was adorable, and it made ellie’s heart twang with relief. at least now that she was able to verify your safety, she could forget all those terrible thoughts that she was getting herself all worked up over.

“hey, sweet girl,” she cooed, brushing the pad of her thumb over your cheek. your brows cinched in response, but you didn’t move. not even an inch. “baby,” ellie drawled in a sing-song voice.

she let her hand fall from your cheek to your back, and she rubbed it in slow, steady circles in an attempt to rouse you. after a while of this—a combination of her rubbing and cooing—you started to react.

“mmm,” you groaned, curling your knees up higher, “it hurts.”

“what hurts? what’s wrong?” opening your eyes, you were able to pair the voice of concern with a familiar face.

“ellie? what are you doing here?”

she lets a small chuckle escape her lips, then raises a hand to rest atop your head.

“what am i doing here? what are you doing here? had me worried sick about you,” she smooths a hand over your head, “missed our breakfast date.”

sighing, you slap a clammy hand over your head, then reach over ellie to grab your phone from the nightstand.

ten messages. three missed calls.

“god, i’m sorry, bellie. took some midol and melatonin last night so that i could beat these cramps, but i guess they worked a little too good, huh?”

“yeah, you nut.” she takes a glance at your nightstand and picks up the bottle of pills, shakes them around before settling them back down. “how many did you take?”

“just two…maybe three?” ellie’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“three? babe, these are 500 mg. why would you do that? the bottle says take two every six hours, and here you are taking more than the recommended amount, on top of taking melatonin,” she chides, though, it’s more out of genuine concern than it is her actually being upset.

you laugh at your own expense, but it’s short-lived because a second later, you’re clutching for your belly and writhing in pain.

ellie sighs, kicks her boots off and fully climbs up onto the bed and under the covers. once she settles into a comfortable position, she pulls you into her side.

“i know, baby, let me take care of you,” she strokes your back soothingly, “but next time, please don’t take that much. were you planning on sleeping forever?”

“maybe.” you jest, snuggling further into her warmth. admittedly, mixing both of those drugs was kind of stupid—maybe really stupid, but in your defense, you were in pain!—and really desperate. when you have cramps this bad, sometimes death sounds like mercy.

“oh, yeah?” the laugh she lets out is a deep rumble, and you can feel the vibrations of it as you lay on her chest. it’s soothing. a remedy that you should’ve utilized sooner, and you would’ve, had you been in the right headspace.

“mhm…” you purr, looking up at her, at her lips. ellie scans your face for pain, then dips down and pilfers a kiss from your lips. it’s slow, and sweet, and ends far too soon for your liking. before she can pull away, you tug her by the collar of her shirt. look up at her with pleading eyes, and fist it tighter between your knuckles.

“more,” you drawl, pulling her back down to meet your lips. she indulges you, because of course she does, and pushes you onto your back.

“thought,” a kiss, “your,” another, “cramps were bothering you?” she queries, breathless as she holds herself up above your sprawled out body. she thumbs with the hem of your shirt, waits expectantly for you to answer.

“they are,” you say, “so why don’t you make ‘em go away?”

and what kind of girlfriend would she be if did otherwise?

#:: — LEXI WRITES !#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader fluff #ellie williams fluff #ellie william x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams

2K notes · View notes

love4norris · 7 months

Text

THE SWEETEST TORTURE

episode one : | wishing

ೃ༄ pairing: lando norris x gbsf!y/n

ೃ༄ summary: where her best friend gets a girlfriend and she cant help but despise her and all of her perfectness

next part

ೃ༄ warnings: my first fic! sad ig?? yet to be proof read!

“They are so cute, aren’t they?” Your best friend shared his observation, the pair forced to witness as Lando pulled her in closer, any innocent air particles being crushed in between their bodies.

“So cute.” You response had been dunked into a tub of jealously before making it past your lips, the now usual emotion leaving a burning feeling behind in your throat.

“I need a relationship like them.” Max continued the unwanted conversation, his words plunging the knife deeper into your heart. His obliviousness was something you used to enjoy but all you wanted to do at this point was to complain to someone, for someone to validate your feelings on how this girl who was made of angel dust was making you feel. It felt as though they were out to get you with the affection they had decided to share with one another this night, their relationship no longer being one with privacy, not that they seemed as though they cared.

Your eyes stayed on them, a pool of emotion filling up to your irises, mouth slightly agape as words started to push past the barrier you had been spending months building up, every slight tinge of jealously you felt adding yet another brick.

“What do you actually think of her?” The words had ultimately made their way into the world and yet had found a polite way to phrase themselves.

“They are about to move in together.” His response brushed passed your question without a care in the world, instead opting to open up a whole different conversation.

“Really?” The regret that you had even bothered to ask began to forcefully join your bloodstream, making you feel lightheaded at the thought you could be caught out.

“Yeah, you didn’t know?” Max asked, a minuscule amount of surprise briefly painting his inquiry.

“I guess he’s been super busy.” The only reaction you could muster up the energy for was walking away, a heaviness weighing onto your hand as embarrassment gripped onto it just to make sure it could follow you around the busy room. A celebration for the finishing the F1 season on a good note having no lack of people.

Multiple shots had been picked up and thrown down your throat by the time they could walk over, her faultless, straight teeth on full show.

“Y/n! How has your night been so far, my friend?” They were the very first words the two of you had spoke since two days ago. A silence fell over you, wrapping you in a warm yet not comforting hug. His request for the idea was pushed further with an eyebrow raise.

“Great! So much fun.” You deceived the pair by simply twisting every sensation your brain had created into a more favourable one.

“Wow, I love your dress.” Lacy pointed out, her free hand flowing graciously through the air so it could land near your dress, her other arm being wrapped around Lando’s torso.

“Thank you, I could say the same about yours.” The drinks began to kick in but still had a hesitance towards the chaos they could insinuate.

“Congratulations on moving in together by the way! Really amazing and a very important part to your relationship!” Your last words fell from your lips in a soft, slurred muse, a hint of melancholy filling your tone. Lando’s eyes tore away from your figure, your deepening gaze that had been shared between him and his girlfriend getting too much for him.

“I didn’t know you knew!” Lacy remarked with a tight lipped smile, the sadness not falling lost on her ears.

“Have you guys found an apartment yet? I remember how hard it was to find the perfect place in Monaco.” Your eyes moved away from Lando’s instead finding a home in his girlfriends.

“I know right! It’s impossible but we are trying, we are thinking about me just moving in with you guys for a little bit if you don’t mind, of course?” The mirth that had joined her words was painted across her smooth skin.

It shocked you, the fact that Lando and her had even discussed this. Her moving into your apartment, her infiltrating the one place you felt safe. He knew how you felt about things like that, you had spend countless night ranting to him about it and him, you.

Words began to claw their way up your throat, the scratch marks they were leaving allowing the vodka to seep into your skin. A barrel off then pushed against your lips, your stomach turning inwards in a gagging movement.

“Excuse me, sorry.” You called behind your retreating figure, the hand that once was heavy with embarrassment now freed so it could push open the venues side door.

The snow was yet to fall over England but you could feel the cold, bitter air latch onto your skin. A light fog of winters breath coated the darkened. It’s rightful shade of blue being stripped too the point where it left a canvas of black in its place. Your chin was planted upwards staring up towards the melancholy heavens through the slits of your eyelids you had left open, the footsteps you were making leaving nothing but destruction on the brittle and cold soil.

Her eyes were as white as daisies, yours red and brushed on with a old and used up paint brush, the streak marks it had made being as bold as the veins that sat underneath your skin.

You could feel her compliments like bullets on skin, her unrivalled beauty causing so many problems in your once peaceful life. For you watch as they progress through the relationship leaving a faulty in the wake.

She had managed to get the one thing you ever wanted in life within the span of couple days and because of that, it felt as though her actions were filled with a poison. The kind of poison that was jealously.

“I thought you would be out here.” His response rolled from his lips as if it were a part of the trickling wind passing by. The air smelled of his cologne, the sharp scent being plastered into your memory.

“What was the reason?” It was startling the way the words managed to be comprehensible, the sudden breath you had let out previously obviously being their way of escape.

“Pardon?” His question wasn’t because he didn’t hear rather that he couldn’t make sense of it.

“What was the reason you couldn’t tell me about you guys moving in together. I don’t think I’ve given you any. Have I?” They dipped from your parted lips with hesitance, the response you were wishing to hear not being one you were ready for.

“You are in love with me. I couldn’t do that to you.” His hands were warming in his coat pockets, his carelessness with the sentence being shameful.

Perhaps it was the way your head instantaneously snapped in his direction or how the words you were yet to say after so long leaked into your eyes that gave him his answer. But you somehow know he had gotten answer to the appalling statement.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You whisper with a sharp intake of breath, although the cool oxygen never came close to your lungs, your throat putting up a defence mechanism.

He paused his actions, his eyes slowly crawling back to yours before returning to cracked pavement. The winters cruel elements didn’t help with this situation and nor did your decision to not being a coat out with you.

“You don’t tell me anything, you ignore my texts for days straight, you stand me up on a weekly basis and then you have the nerve to accuse me of such a thing.” Your voice broke beneath the strength and heaviness with your words, landing in a crumpled up pile beneath your feet.

“I have a girlfriend now, I can’t answer every call and text you send me. I don’t have time for movie nights and all of those traditions we started when we were twelve. Okay? We are not kids anymore y/n and some of us have full time jobs and busy lives. And I am trying, I am trying to keep our friendship going so you can’t knock me down when I am trying my hardest.” He defended himself in a spiral of hurtful words, making a slight mockery of you inability to have a good and stable social life.

“I don’t expect you to. I expect a text to say you aren’t coming to dinner so I am not sat alone in a posh restaurant waiting and waiting. That is not trying your best Lando, that is barely the bare minimum.”

The world fell quiet again, immersing you in a void of silence that was so strong it began to shake your body. With Lando standing next you, his broad figure looking so lost amongst the mixture of trees going on behind him. The area that once seemed so large had shrunk remarkably in size, leaving no gap for you to escape from this nightmare.

“What dinner?” He questioned, the inquiry bringing him closer towards you so he could fully assess your reaction to his words.

A scoff fell past your lips, the wind quick to snatch it from in front of you and run away with it.

“Don’t do that, don’t act all innocent. I can’t do this with you tonight.” You shook your head, in denial about this whole situation. It felt as though you were stranded at sea, in a abyss of uncertainty whether you would live or do. Exhaling a deep breath that froze before you, the strength to begin once again evaporated. “I can’t do this today.”

You repeated in a hardly audible whisper, using it as an excuse to excuse yourself yet again. Lando was quick to react to your movements, his fingertips offering you the warmth you had been craving. The world stopped then and there, you awaiting a reasonable response, a reasonable argument to your previous statements but nothing appeared.

His knuckles wrapped so tightly it caused a bleed of a ghastly white to flush across them. Lando’s lip parted, preparing themselves to say something that would stop you from leaving him but the only thing that slipped past them was a loud sigh.

“I’m going to go now.” You stated, brushing your fingertips gently across his to get them to unravel from your bare arms. The escape you had been so gracefully offered was not one you would ever deny again.

#lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris angst #ln4 #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #mclaren #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #formual one #f1 imagines

520 notes · View notes

showtoonzfan · 7 months

Text

Hey it’s been a bit! The Mammon episode finally came out, so here’s my review!

Pros:

- The sign language scene was cute. Kinda weird that a kid was seeing a show that was clearly for adults but I love me some representation so it gets a pass.

- Despite Blitz not really needing to be in this episode, I thank god he had little screen time and more time was dedicated to Fizz.

- The fish ladies (despite having wonky color palettes that made them EXTREMELY hard to look at) were cute.

Cons:

- Mammon is so flat and uninteresting but I don’t know what I expected from a creator who always hypes her characters up that always end up being one of the three go-to personalities she picks for her male characters. In Mammon’s case he’s just a loud mouth cursing bum so way to ruin another Deadly Sin and make them boring af, moving on.

- I don’t like how Mammon and Fizz’s relationship are similar of Val and Angel’s, Viv keeps recycling stories, characters and plot lines ect, it makes Angel’s story for Hazbin really predictable/underwhelming and not exciting to look forward too especially since we already have the “mafia bad daddy” aspect to him too that they pulled for Moxxie. I guess the idea of Mammon being a controlling ruler is fine on paper but not much is done with it, Fizz just quits in the end like it was easy with zero consequences so what was all that build up for.

- Fizz himself once again feels REALLY out of character, he’s just too soft compared to how he was introduced in season 1. He’s constantly nervous in this episode and insecure, as well as walking on eggshells, and even in Oops he wasn’t THIS sensitive. I’m all for characters struggling and being kicked down but it has to make sense and not feel forced, and once again it feels like Viv is trying way to hard to make the characters she once introduced as snarky assholes to uwu innocent babies. I refuse to believe Fizz was actually INTIMIDATED by this random geeky imp who insulted him, as well as the fish ladies whom he was weirdly nice and welcoming to. It’s also weird seeing how uncomfortable/nervous he was around his fans when I thought the whole point was that he LOVED praise and loved being famous, at least that was season 1 Fizz. Now he feels retconned. Seeing him say “I just need this gig” is weird too, the explanation to why he went through all of this makes no sense, Fizz still has Ozzie and is famous in the Lust ring, and I understand Mammon is his idle but to go through all that abuse for so long for something that could have been so easily avoided feels forced to fit the plot, but it also makes Fizz look dumb.

- There’s confusing lore stuff regarding Mammon and Ozzie, and it makes me realize that Viv should have picked ONE storyline aka ONE Seven Deadly sin to go with Fizz’s story because this is getting mixed up. Fizz acts like if he looses this completion, he looses everything, which confused the heck out of me because no he wouldn’t have? First of all, Ozzie is a fucking powerful sin, how would you loose him? Second, from what we know from season 1, Fizz is a jester who performs at Ozzie’s club. It was Ozzie who built the sex robots across the rings of hell, NOT Mammon, and in season 2 we see that Fizz is under Ozzie’s care and lives in his house. Yet for some weird reason Mammon also represents Fizz and uses him for profit, but it’s not really explained in a way that makes sense, like Love’s art had said in her Fizz redesign video, Fizz’s job is really confusing on what exactly he does. Having both Ozzie and Mammon represent him overcomplicates things and the show did a poor job at explaining how this goes.

- Once again Viv dumps trauma and struggle onto her characters without building it up first. When did Fizz ever give off the impression that he was being controlled or abused, or even that he was so insecure and constantly walked on eggshells to be perfect. In Oops he was happy to be in the spotlight and happy to get the attention, he bragged to Blitz about how successful he was. He seemed happy to perform for Mammon and talked of him highly, and now you’re pulling an Angel Dust situation where he’s expected to be perfect 24/7 and it gets to him emotionally, while also being someone who’s physically and mentally abused. Yet another season 2 episode that wasn’t planned, same as how Millie wanting to feel important wasn’t planned, same as how Stolas seeing Blitz as genuine love wasn’t planned. Different episode, same issues.

- I’m so done with the Hell lore bro, this place officially has no rules and demons can just do anything without consequences. There’s no class system, there’s no rankings, there’s no power dynamics, screw anything that Viv says. There was no fucking reason why Ozzie and Fizz’s relationship needed to be a secret. There was no reason showing Ozzie threatening his workers to not tell anyone about his love life if he was just going to admit it to EVERYONE THE NEXT EPISODE IN FRONT OF ANOTHER SIN ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME— what was the POINT. What is the point of Stolas and Blitz’s conflict. What is the point of Stella being classist. What is the point of these class systems and rules if you can just announce that you technically broke a hell rule and no one gives a fuck and you get off scott free. Mammon telling Ozzie “you’ll regret that” like a cartoon villain doesn’t do anything either. What is he ganna do? Tell Lucifer, the character that canonically won’t appear in HB because the sins won’t appear in HH? If Lucifer rules over the sinners, who the fuck is in charge for the rest of Hell. Where’s the authority? And Mammon is just ganna come back for another episode to give the gang trouble cause lord knows we don’t have enough fucking villains already.

- It feels weird that Ozzie would just sit back while someone whom he knows is a piece of shit is treating his loved one badly. I get he was concerned but you’d think one of the seven deadly sins would have more power and authority.

- I was expecting some big gross bug-like thing to appear when Mammon was transforming into his final form, only for it to the exact same design but with small extra eyes and a spider lower half that isn’t even visible in most shots….GOD VIV.

Watching this episode also made me remind myself that this is supposed to be Hell. Seeing Fizz feel better and stand up for himself was sweet but these soft lessons and morals don’t belong in a show like this, and it’s extra aggravating regarding Viv’s double standard, how she can just pick and choose which characters she wants to be evil and which characters are saints. Overall not anywhere near the worst episode of season 2, but I am officially done with Helluva Boss so-

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #helluva critical #anti vivziepop #helluva boss

327 notes · View notes

kazz-brekker · 2 years

Text

hotd episode 9 thoughts:

thought i might miss rhaenyra & daemon & co in this episode, but there was enough tension and drama that i honestly didn’t and i think it was a good choice to have the whole episode be centered around the greens.

i do have to admit i’m a little amused that the way they stretched out the green council plot was by having people run around king’s landing looking for aegon. an egg hunt, one might say…

olivia cooke was absolutely FANTASTIC in this episode she did such a good job of showing how alicent was pulled between her love for rhaenyra and what she thought was her duty.

rip lyman beesbury you spent most of your screen time talking about boring finance stuff but you were a real one when it counted.

let out an actual flinch when they mentioned storm’s end and lord baratheon’s unmarried daughters. if you know you know.

helaena with her bug embroidery was so cute.

i don’t know who in this fandom coined the phrase “mommy’s favorite war criminal” in relation to aemond and alicent but i am literally incapable of not thinking it when they have a scene together now, so that’s your influence.

rhaenys was such a badass in this episode, i love her very much. her scene where she told alicent that she wasn’t seeking freedom but rather to make a window in her prison wall … oh hell yeah it was everything i wanted someone to say to alicent.

the whole otto vs alicent plot was SO good i am ready for their relationship to fall apart. alicent calling him out for manipulating her whole life was incredibly satisfying, i’ve literally been waiting all season for it.

criston cole saying all women are made in the image of the mother and they should be treated with reverence … i believe that’s what we call irony.

i enjoyed aemond complaining about aegon and how he should be king instead, it was a great insight into his character. also, aemond targaryen canonical nerd.

i do have to respect mysaria for just being totally on her own side with her own agenda and willing to support whoever will further it.

her stuffing aegon underneath the sept to keep him safe was honestly kind of hilarious.

aegon running away from his coronation was a bit funny but mostly just very sad. he doesn’t want it! he doesn’t want to be king! this whole tragedy could have been averted if not for the forces pushing him around!

the fight between aegon and aemond WAS extremely funny though. the hair pulling, the spitting, the rolling around on the ground shouting … peak sibling behavior.

as a twin i greatly enjoyed the building tension between erryk and arryk and their conflict about serving aegon, it’s going to lead to so much drama.

i could have lived a long and happy life without seeing that scene between alicent and larys. but unfortunately i have seen it. and now i must life with the trauma.

big fan of how completely dead-eyed and miserable aegon looked during the coronation scene, props to tom glynn-carney for his acting.

the scene with rhaenys and meleys bursting through the bottom of the dragonpit was extremely cool and i was rooting VERY hard for her to murder aegon even though i know it wasn’t going to happen. your dragon stepped on a bunch of people what’s torching one guy after that!

category 5 event imminent i spy aemond taking off his eyepatch and vhagar up to no good in the trailer for episode 10.

literally since the moment this show was announced i have been steeling myself to see That Event at storm’s end adapted and now that we’re almost there i would like to publicly announce that i am still! not! ready!!

#pie says stuff #pie watches hotd #hotd #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon #alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #otto hightower #criston cole #rhaenys targaryen #helaena targaryen #mysaria #lyman beesbury #erryk cargyll #arryk cargyll #larys strong #this was a good episode i enjoyed all the political drama and untrustworthy behavior #but i am very very scared for the finale and all i know that will happen in it

1K notes · View notes

neonghostlights · 11 months

Text

A/N: Eddie and R meet right after the events of season one. Keep in mind that R was involved in the upside down stuff so some of her strange behavior in this is because of that. R keeps it a secret from Eddie.

Summary: You haven’t been the same since you woke up in the hospital with memory loss after the earthquake hit Hawkins. When strange things start happening and you feel like you’ve started losing your mind, a group of strangers offer to help. Even though you’ve never met them before, they seem to know you better than you think.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Reader's mom is verbally and mentally abusive, I didn't show it a whole lot but keep that in mind while reading this, Cussing, Blood, Injury, Death of a parent and grandparent, Fire, Bullying, 18+ Minors, DNI

Word count: 8k (You might say, "Bee, why the hell does it take you so long to type 8k words?" And all I have to say is I don't know, and I don't want to talk about it.

Series Masterlist

Part Thirteen

December 13th, 1983

Eddie shoved the strap to his backpack over his shoulder. He was late, so late that he was the only one left in the car filled parking lot.

He rubbed his hands together for some warmth as he made his way to the door. He knew that the second he walked into Ms. O'Donnell's he would be sent right to the principal's office to get lectured on his tardiness. Again.

You’d think that they would give up by now.

What the principal and Ms. O’Donnell didn’t know was that he actually tried to get here on time, but the van took forever to start because of how cold it was that morning.

Looking back now, Eddie was glad he was late that day.

Crossing the parking lot, avoiding the icy patches, he pulled open the double doors and sauntered into the building. He relished in the warmth that slowly seeped through his jacket and to his skin. He didn’t bother to stop by his locker. There were no books worth grabbing.

He kept his pace slow as he rounded the corner, not in a rush. He was already late, what was the point of trying to hurry now?

His speed didn’t help cushion the sudden impact to his chest and it definitely didn’t keep you from hitting the floor with a thump when you bounced off of him. It had happened so quickly that Eddie didn’t even process who he had run into, or instead who had run into him.

“Shit,” you whined, holding onto your head as you propped yourself up into a sitting position on the floor. “Why are you so hard?”

Eddie’s brain short circuited as he tried to process what you had just asked him.

“Uh, what?” He sputtered out, his face burning from your question.

“Feels like I hit a brick wall,” you clarified.

“Right, sorry. Uh, let me help you.” He stuck a ring clad hand out to pull you up off the floor.

Once you were upright again, Eddie knelt down to gather your papers and books that had scattered across the dirty floor. He handed them to you, the papers crinkling against his hand.

“Thanks,” you muttered as you took your stuff from him.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just might have a concussion now,” you said with a shrug. “Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone that Eddie Munson’s the one that injured me.” You laughed.

“You know who I am?” He asked, surprised that someone like you knew who he was. Eddie, of course, knew who you were. You hung around Steve Harrington and his group of douchebags but he had never seen you be cruel like they could be. He always wondered why you were a part of that clique when you seemed so different from them.

Eddie had never seen you spare him a glance.

You tilted your head, confused at his perplexed expression. “You don’t really blend in with the crowd,” you said it like it was obvious, which it was. What you weren’t mentioning was that of course you knew who Eddie was because some of your ‘friends’ loved to target him on a daily basis.

“Right,” Eddie mumbled, remembering who he was talking to.

There was an awkward pause like neither of you were sure what to say next.

You shuffled past Eddie, heading for the locker right beside him. You opened it, ignoring the fact that he was still standing beside you. You grabbed your backpack, shoving your belongings into it.

“Did I hurt you so bad that you have to go home? Should I take you to the nurse?” Eddie asked, concerned. He was so thrown off by the impact that he hadn’t even noticed your watery eyes.

“Oh, no. My mom called the office and apparently my grandma’s in the hospital so I’m going to go see her. But, if you happen to have any pain killers I’ll gladly take those.”

Eddie regarded you for a moment. It was no secret how he made his money around school. Although you were never a customer, a lot of your friends were. Steve Harrington basically had a standing appointment with him every Thursday so he could stock up for his Friday night parties that Eddie never got invited to.

“Well, I have nothing legal,” he whispered behind his hand, although the hallways was completely empty besides the two of you standing at your open locker.

“Oh,” you sighed. “Never mind then. Guess I’ll have to just live with the concussion then. At least I’ll already be at the hospital in case things go south.”

You said it so dryly that it took a moment for Eddie to realize that you were kidding with him. It was strange that you weren’t hurling cruel words at him or brushing him off like anyone else in the school would have. He would have thought it was a trick if you hadn’t seemed so genuine.

Eddie’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at you. You closed your locker and started to back away slowly, not in fear, but like you didn’t want to go quite yet.

“Well, I should go now,” you said as you pointed a finger behind you. “Next time wear a bell or something so people know you’re coming.”

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. “I think that might just ruin my reputation. Sneaking up on girls in the hallway is kind of my thing.”

Eddie regretted it as soon as he said it. A joke to him could turn into a massive rumor tomorrow. Your reaction calmed his nerves though.

You smiled at that. “Oh, so you run into girls often, Munson?”

“Only the pretty ones.”

You both knew it was a lie. Eddie couldn’t remember the last time he had actually talked to a girl before this. Especially a pretty one like you.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head before you turned away fully and rounded the corner out of sight.

Eddie did in fact get immediately sent into the principals when he got to O’Donnells classroom, and then sentenced to detention for that evening. He replayed your interaction from that morning over and over in his head as he twirled a pencil in his hand in the cold, silent classroom. A grin still on his face.

Eddie was supposed to be doing homework but found himself ripping out a piece of notebook paper and jotting down a note.

Hope your grandma’s okay.

Sorry for the concussion.

-E.

Eddie had found himself waiting by your locker in the days following but you never showed back up to school.

January 8th, 1984

Winter break came and went but he still thought about you, even in the middle of his holiday celebrations. He worried about you even though he didn’t even know you. You were basically the enemy. He wished he had time to break into your locker and take the note out before you had the chance to see it but breaking and entering on school property wasn’t a charge he was willing to catch.

The first Monday after break he spotted you in front of your locker. A friend of yours stood beside you, chatting your ear off. He watched as you stared down at the open letter before gently folding it and putting it into the pocket of your backpack. There was a small smile across your face as you blatantly ignored the person talking to you.

Your gaze shot up and caught Eddie staring. He gave you a small wave before shooting you a concerned look. You looked tired and worn down. His feet moved towards you before he even had the chance to tell them to stop.

Your friends talking trailed off as he approached you. You looked up at him from behind your locker door with surprised eyes. It seemed everyone in the hallway had slowed their movements, trying to catch a glimpse at what Eddie Munson was doing by approaching you.

“Can I help you?” Your friend asked obnoxiously as she chewed a thick wad of gum with an open mouth. Eddie was pretty sure her name was Tammy or something.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked you, ignoring her and the wet smacking of her mouth completely.

You nodded, just a quick jerk of your chin.

Eddie didn’t believe you. He stepped closer. “Are you sure?”

Another nod, this time your eyes peered around him nervously. Eddie stepped back. What had he been thinking? One conversation in an empty hallway hadn’t made you friends and it definitely didn’t mean he could just approach you whenever he wanted to. Something about you had made him forget where he stood on the high school social hierarchy.

“Is this freak bothering you?” Steve Harrington asked as he approached. The crowd in the hallway made a wide circle, prepared for the show.

Eddie tensed, well aware of what followed after the use of his lovely nickname.

“Don’t call him that,” you snapped at Steve, slamming your locker shut. The murmur of voices in the hallway hushed completely.

Steve raised a confused brow at you, taken back by your outburst.

“I was just asking a question,” Steve mumbled.

“No. You were being an asshole. Again.” You reprimanded him in the way that only happens after years of friendship. Steve backed down at your tone, shooting a nervous look at Eddie.

You turned to the crowd in the hallway, all of the people still thinking they were going to see a fight.

“What the hell are you all looking at?” You snapped at them. The crowd started moving again, realizing that if they stayed they would have to deal with you.

Eddie was entranced. He had never seen you like this before.

“I’m fine,” you gritted out to Steve, Eddie and Tammy before you marched away from them and to your class, leaving them all standing there in your dust.

Eddie was skipping his third period gym class when he heard the sniffles. Usually, Eddie would ignore something like that but these ones made his heart clench.

He found you behind the gym, sitting on the cold hard ground. Your knees were pulled up to your chest and your head was in your hands. Your shoulders were shaking up and down with your sobs.

Eddie approached slowly, not wanting to startle you.

The sound of his sneakers crunching against a piece of gravel had your head popping up and looking at him. You immediately wiped at the tears on your face, trying to hide the fact that you had been crying.

Eddie didn’t point out that wiping the tears away was useless as he sat down beside you. Damn, the ground was really cold. He could feel it all the way through his pants. Small goosebumps broke across his skin and he shivered. He wondered how long you had been sitting out here like this. You must be freezing.

You turned your head away from Eddie, hiding your face. You probably wished he would just go away and leave you alone. He also wished that he could do that, but he just couldn’t bring himself to.

After a moment or two, Eddie spoke, “Yeah, I hate school too.”

You let out a small, pitiful laugh that you tried to cover up with a cough. Eddie heard it though, and it made him happy.

You didn’t say anything for a moment until you finally turned to him. “Don’t you have gym this period?”

Eddie felt his face break out into a wide gin. “You been keeping track of me or something?”

“No. I just know because one time I was walking by the gym and saw you get hit in the face with a basketball. You don’t have very good hand eye coordination, you know?”

Eddie was speechless. He remembered the day you were talking about. The one time he had actually tried to participate in gym and he got clocked in the face while he wasn’t paying attention to a particularly boring game of basketball. The guy who did it honestly didn’t mean to, he had genuinely thought Eddie would be able to catch it.

His head touched the brick wall behind him as he let out a loud laugh, not at the fact that he had gotten hit in the face, but because you had seen him and remembered it enough to make a joke out of it. It wasn’t even a cruel joke at his expense, but you had said it to make him laugh when he should be trying to make you laugh instead.

You chuckled along, wiping the stray tears that spilled.

Eddie stopped laughing when he noticed your eyes were still watery.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

You shrugged. Eddie thought at first you weren’t going to tell him.

“My grandma died.”

“Oh shit.” Eddie let out a puff of air. “I’m sorry. That’s why you haven’t been at school?”

“Oh, so now you’re the one keeping track of me?” You nudged his shoulder playfully.

Yes, he had been, and he wasn’t about to tell you that.

Eddie pushed off the ground and stood over you. You looked up at him confused until he stuck his hand out to pull you up. The way your hand fit into his felt right.

“Hey, uh, do you wanna get out of here?” Eddie tugged at a strand of his hair and pulled it in front of his face shyly. His defensiveness was still expecting you to call him a freak and run away but another part of him told him that you were different from everyone else.

You thought for a moment before you agreed and Eddie led you to his van.

February 14th, 1984

Eddie had decided that today was the day.

After a month of shoving notes back and forth into each other's lockers and hanging out at his trailer when your mom thought you were at some other friend's house, he was finally going to ask you on a date.

The flirtation was obviously there between the two of you. At least Eddie thought it was. Neither of you had pushed the boundaries of your new friendship though. The days spent together were full of laughing and talking while still not crossing the line between friendship and something more.

Eddie wanted to change that. He didn’t think he could go another second without letting you know how you made him feel. So that’s why he was back to creeping around your locker, hoping that you wouldn’t laugh at the note that he had placed in there for you.

Valentine's day had never really been a success for Eddie. He had a good feeling about this one though.

He watched as you approached your locker, alone this time thankfully. A red rose was held delicately between your fingers. Jealousy reared its ugly head at the thought of whatever asshole had cornered you in the hallway to give it to you. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that you had tons of other guys pining after you. He just hoped you didn’t think he was another one of those hopeless losers.

It took you forever to spin the dial and open it up. Finally, you pulled out the red card Eddie had bought at the grocery store. Wayne had spotted him with it and although he didn’t say anything Eddie could tell he wanted to poke fun at him for buying a valentine.

He watched as your grin grew as you read it.

Will you please go out on a date with me?

-E.

Okay, so the smile was a good sign. Or maybe you were laughing at him. Maybe whoever gave you that stupid flower already beat him to it and swept you off of your feet. Maybe he never stood a chance in the first place.

During his distracting mental gymnastics over what your smile meant, he hadn’t even noticed you approaching him.

“A date, huh?” You asked cheekily. You were still smiling at him.

“I mean, uh, yeah?” Eddie didn’t know what he was saying. He wanted to find some place to run and hide. Hopefully if he disappeared long enough you would forget about this by the time he reappeared.

“Okay.”

“Wait, okay? You’re saying yes?” Eddie wasn’t sure he had heard you correctly. There was no way you were actually agreeing.

“Yes,” you laughed that laugh that Eddie had come to love. The flower twirled between your fingers.

Love. The word sent a shiver down his spine.

That couldn’t be the right word for this.

“Oh, and this is for you,” you announced as you held the flower out to him.

Eddie took it from you gently. He couldn’t believe he had ever thought the flower was stupid. It was obviously the most beautiful and precious thing in the world since it came from you.

“You- For me? You got this for me?” He sputtered out, still mesmerized by it.

Now, you were the one looking unsure. “Sorry, if it’s weird. I just saw it and thought you might like it.”

“I love it,” Eddie immediately replied.

There was that word again.

“So, a date?...”

“Right,” Eddie straightened. He had prepared for this. “Today? After school?”

Eddie will be the first to admit that he fucked up.

When he planned this date, he didn’t take into account the weather forecast. He was so excited over the prospect of you saying yes that everything else kind of faded into the background.

He realized that he made a mistake, as he watched you try to pretend you weren’t cold as you sat on the blanket across from him at the park.

Eddie had packed sandwiches and chips the night before in a makeshift picnic. If he had been smart, he would have sat and watched the nightly news for the weather with Wayne.

February was a hit or miss for warmth. Although it had been warmer during the day, the slight shiver you were sporting proved the temperature had dropped.

Eddie found himself stripping off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“But you’re going to get cold?” Your concern made his heart flutter.

Eddie shook his head. “No, I’m actually pretty warm. I don’t really ever get cold.” That was a lie but he couldn’t sit here and watch you freeze any longer.

You hummed, eyeing him suspiciously. You saw through his bullshit already.

Eddie liked that about you.

Eddie liked a lot about you actually. He liked you so much that he was planning on asking you an important question if this date went well. If he still had the nerve by the time this was over. So far, it wasn’t looking good.

You took a small bite of your peanut butter and jelly sandwich, eyes focused on the ducks that lazily lapped the pond.

Eddie’s grand idea was that you two could have a romantic picnic in the park and then watch the sunset over the pond. He saw it in one of those romantic movies that he was forced to watch when he was too lazy to grab the remote.

“Hey, what's wrong?” You sounded concerned as you looked over at Eddie with a frown.

“Nothing,” he quickly denied.

“Eddie,” you tried again. Your hand placed gently on the knees of his scratchy jeans. “Are you nervous?”

“Me? No, no. I’m not nervous at all,” he dismissed your claim passionately, head shaking and hair swaying side to side with his movement.

You smiled at him, because despite his antics, you knew he was nervous. Was it the slight tremble of his hand or the way he had barely eaten since you’d been there?

“You’re not?”

“Do you want me to be?”

This made you lean your head back and laugh loudly. Eddie relaxed slightly, your hand still on his knee.

He noticed some of the ducks wandering at the edge of the pond. He knew he wouldn’t be able to finish eating this sandwich, especially not with how close you had gotten to him. He pulled off a piece of crust, tossing it on the grass for them to eat.

Eddie didn’t expect a swarm of them to start waddling up to the blanket you sat on. You looked at Eddie wide eyed when one came up onto the blanket and pecked at the bag of chips by your leg.

Another one tried to get 5he rest of Eddie's sandwich out of his hand. He thought they were going for his finger so he jerked away.

The ducks didn’t like that.

Before he knew it he was cornered and they were coming at him from all directions. Eddie jumped up, snatching your hand to drag you to safety away from their beaks. You had enough thought to grab Eddie’s blanket as he pulled you quickly to the parking lot.

Eddie chanced a glance behind his shoulder to see a trail of ducks beelining it towards the both of you. He picked up the pace with you matching his speed and keeping up as he held your hand tightly in his. His leather jacket still wrapped around you.

Eddie didn’t think until you were both by the van to throw the sandwich that he was still holding onto at them.

“Here! Take it!” He yelled, tossing the sandwich onto the ground in front of them. They took the bait, focusing on the sandwich instead of attacking you and Eddie.

Eddie turned to you to find you panting from the unexpected run. The sparkling white shoes you had been wearing were now covered in a thick layer of mud.

“I’m so sorry. This is probably the worst date you’ve ever been on and I understand if-”

Eddie’s words were lost as you fisted the front of his t-shirt and dragged his mouth down to yours.

He didn’t move at first, worried that he was reading this wrong. That was, until he realized that you were currently kissing him and there was literally no other way to read this. So he kissed you back.

When you both pulled away from each other you were still out of breath from your run.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Eddie blurted out, not waiting another second or he would lose his nerve.

He couldn’t find himself to be mad at the ducks anymore when you said yes.

Maybe Valentine's Day wasn’t so bad after all.

May 25th, 1984

Eddie laid face down on your bed with his face shoved into your pillow. He deeply inhaled the smell of your shampoo on your pillow case.

He could feel the eyes of the duck figurine on your dresser staring at him. He remembered the day he brought it to you, about a month after you made it official. He found it in one of his neighbors' yards by the trash can. He took it for himself, cleaning it up and supergluing a pair of googly eyes to its face. You had cried laughing at the reminder of your first date and displayed it proudly in your room. Making you laugh had been worth the effort.

This is where he had been lying since he got here. You left him alone, letting him mope in peace while you sat across the room at your desk, nose buried in a romance book that he would try to understand when you enthusiastically explained the plot to him later. He could usually never keep up but hearing you explain something you loved made him happy.

Eddie sighed, sitting up and ready to talk about it now. It had been something that you two had been dancing around since it became clear months ago.

Tomorrow was graduation, and Eddie wouldn’t be attending.

You had tried to see the bright side to the situation. Constantly reminding Eddie that you were going into your senior year, so you could have classes together and you’d be able to help him more.

Eddie didn’t mind spending more time with you but he didn’t like feeling like a failure.

It reminded him too much of his father.

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” you said as you put your book down.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not a failure,” he muttered.

You shook your head at him, crossing the room to sit beside him on the bed.

“You’re not a failure,” you reminded him. “Look at all you’ve done.”

Eddie scoffed, grabbing your pillow and holding it to his chest. “Like what? What have I done that makes me not a failure?”

“Needing a little bit more time does not make you a failure. So what if Mrs. O’Donnell or Principal Higgins doesn’t see how creative and amazing you are? I see it. And I thought you knew better than to judge your self worth based on academics anyways.”

Your hand met Eddies, fitting into his perfectly.

Eddie rolled his head back against the headboard and couldn’t help the words that came out next.

“I love you,” he blurted out, shocking himself with the ease they slid out.

You blinked a few times in surprise before you smiled and said, “I love you too, Eddie. So much.”

A car door slamming from the driveway had you pulling away from Eddie in a hurry. You scrambled to the window that overlooked the front of the house.

“Shit! My mom’s home early,” you gasped.

Eddie felt his gut sink. He hadn’t met your mom yet but by hearing the way you talked about her he could only assume how this meeting was about to go.

Eddie felt like he understood your parental issues slightly. He knew your dad had passed a little bit back and that put a strain on your and your mothers relationship. You had once described it to him as a mental break that you had tried to be patient with but it was only growing worse. At least you had your grandmother before she passed, who you had spent most your time with instead of being at home.

Without your grandmother you were just stuck with your mom with no one to stand up for you.

Well, except for Eddie.

“Should I run?” Eddie asked, half joking and half serious. He’d jump out the window if he had to.

“It’s too late. She’ll know,” you mumbled.

Eddie hated seeing the look on your face when you heard the downstairs door slam and your name called sharply.

You rushed downstairs, not wanting to keep her waiting.

“Hey, mom. You’re home early,” you said with a false cheerfulness that Eddie could see right through.

“Easy day,” your mom said as she set down her purse and keys. “Whose ugly van is that outside?”

“Mom,” you started with a pleading tone. “This is my boyfriend, Eddie Munson. Remember I told you about him?”

Your mom finally noticed Eddie standing awkwardly behind you with his hands clasped behind his back. He felt the burning scrutiny of her stare as she looked him up and down, taking in all of his flaws. Eddie fought the urge to grab you and run from this mean woman and her stare.

“I thought you said he was just a friend,” Your mom finally said, mouth twisted like she had eaten something sour. “I figured you were doing charity or tutoring underprivileged students.”

Eddie was used to being talked down to by adults. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt by her words. As awful as she is, he wanted her approval. For once he wanted to be able to say he was good enough for you, and for someone to agree with him.

It was easy to ignore the looks you got in the hallways at school. It wasn’t easy when the looks came from your family.

Both your fists clenched at your sides and your shoulders tensed. Eddie grew more nervous, worried about how you were going to react to her words. You had made sure that people at school had learned to keep their mouths shut about your relationship quickly.

“He is not a charity. He is my boyfriend,” You grit out. Eddie could hear how hard it was for you to push those words out of your mouth calmly.

He wanted to comfort you, tell you it was okay. But he knew the second he showed you and affection your mom would use that as ammunition. He kept his distance.

“Eddie, do not park your van in front of my house anymore. I don’t want the neighbors getting the wrong idea,” your mom snapped at him.

Eddie nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

With one last scrutinizing look, your mom looked away from you and Eddie.

“Your friend needs to go home. I invited the Harringtons over for dinner tonight,” your mom announced as she walked into the kitchen.

You sighed, shaking your head. When you turned to look at Eddie he could see the unshed tears glistening in your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he whispered so your mom wouldn’t hear. “I’m gonna go. Call me later, okay?”

You nodded, eyes on him as he came up beside you and squeezed your shoulder gently.

Eddie hated leaving you in that house with her. He hated hearing your cracking voice over the phone at night after you and her had gotten into yet another argument. He wanted to rescue you and steal you away from her so she could never hurt you again.

That’s why failing senior year hit so hard. He wished he had met you sooner so that he could’ve tried to get his shit together quicker. At least you were going to be seniors together this time.

One day, Eddie was going to be your knight in shining armor.

November 7th, 1984

You had been acting weird since Halloween.

Eddie didn’t want to mention it at first, thinking that maybe it was because your mom got mad that you were out late Halloween night with him. But over the week, you grew more and more distracted.

You would zone out in class and then after school you would always be too busy to talk because you had to go babysit some kids.

Today was the first time he had talked you into spending some time with him all week. One look at you and he knew something was really wrong.

You dropped your backpack on the floor and climbed into Eddie’s bed as soon as you got inside his room.

Eddie sat beside you, ignoring the pile of homework he needed to work on.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked softly.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you sighed, turning away from him so he couldn’t see your face.

“Yes there is. You’ve been acting weird all week.” He didn’t want to sound accusing. He trusted you. But if your mom had done something or said something that crossed the line he wanted to know so he could help you.

“I said I’m fine, Eddie,” you said harshly.

Eddie sighed, staring up at the ceiling for a moment to think about what to do next.

“You’re not fine. You’ve been a ghost all week. You barely talk at school and you just zone out. I said your name six times today before you even knew I was standing there. And you’ve been so busy after school that we have barely talked. I’m really worried about you. If you need space from me just tell me but if your mom did something then…” The words died in Eddie’s throat when he noticed your shoulder shaking and your face buried into his pillow.

“Shit, baby. Come here,” Eddie said as he climbed behind you and wrapped his arms around you. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t,” you sobbed.

“Yes you can. Did someone say something to you? Did someone hurt you?” Eddie was frantic now. If someone had hurt you he didn’t know the type of person he would become. He just knew that he would make sure whoever hurt you would never be able to hurt you again.

“No. I just-” You turned to your side to face Eddie head on. “I promise I’m safe. No one hurt me. Everything is safe for now.”

“I don’t understand,” Eddie admitted, brushing a piece of hair out of your face tenderly.

“I need you to promise me that you’ll drop it. I promise I’m okay. I just had a lot going on but now everything is going back to normal. I didn’t mean to make you worried.”

Eddie didn’t want to drop it though. Something had happened after Halloween and he wanted to know what it was. But you were adamant not to tell him. He had no choice but to let it go.

“Okay, baby,” he said, pulling you in. “I’ll drop it. But if something is bothering you I want you to come to me, okay?”

Eddie felt you sniffle and nod against him as you relaxed. Eddie trusted you but you were hiding something.

Something big.

May 24th, 1985

Your name was called followed by applause as you walked across the stage to get your diploma.

Eddie stood up and cheered, gaining a nasty look from your mother who sat a few spaces down. Eddie didn’t care. He was so happy for you.

Eddie didn’t graduate again this year. School is hard. You tried to help the best you could, always so patient with him when you have to explain things repeatedly. He thought you two having the same classes would surely help him.

He it was his own fault with not paying attention in class but he couldn’t help his mind from wandering. Sitting still for so long was hard.

It also didn’t help that Ms. O’Donnell had it out for him.

He couldn’t believe that you were going to go to school to become a teacher. Not that you wouldn’t be great. You were so patient and smart. He knew you would be better than any teacher he had ever had. You would never fail students just because you didn’t like them unlike the fine teachers of Hawkins High that Eddie had the honor of being taught by.

With your diploma in your hand, you turned and gave Eddie a bright smile. A silent, “I did it. I love you.”

Eddie gave you two thumbs up, not wanting to yell because the next student was crossing the stage. A silent, “I”m proud of you. I love you.”

He pushed through the crowd after the final remarks were made. It was hard to find you in the sea of green caps and gowns. Eddie was pretty sure he might have elbowed a kid in the face.

He saw you, looking for him too as you tried to make your way through the crowd, having less luck than him. He grabbed you around the waist when he got close enough. You squealed, turning to smack a big kiss on his cheek.

“Hi,” you whispered with a wide smile on your face, ignoring the people bumping into you.

“Hi,” Eddie whispered back, any hard feelings about not graduating disappearing. Today was about you.

You tugged Eddie’s arm, silently leading him out to the parking lot where Wayne and your mother waited. Neither of them looked at each other. Your mom had a sour look on her face like she had been sucking on a lemon. Eddie wondered what Wayne might have said to her to make her get that look. Wayne had never been quiet about his dislike for the way she treated you. The thing was you never had to even tell him that she wasn’t nice to you, Wayne just knew. Same way he knew when Eddie was young too.

Eddie was surprised to hear that his uncle wanted to attend your graduation too. When Eddie voiced as much, all Wayne replied with was, “Why the hell wouldn’t I go?”

And that was the end of that.

“Let me get some pictures of you,” Wayne said as he pulled out the polaroid camera he had for special occasions. It wasn’t often that it left the back of the closet. Film was expensive.

Eddie pulled you in front of the van. “Got to get my other girl in it too,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes and laughed at him. The camera went off for the first photo.

“Alright. Both of you look here and smile for this one,” Wayne called.

As soon as the second picture was taken your mom spoke up, “Alright. We have lunch we have to get to.”

“I was gonna go have lunch with Eddie and Wayne. Remember?” You asked. That had been the plan since the beginning. Wayne was gonna make you and Eddie lunch back at the trailer. Nothing fancy but Eddie knew you had been looking forward to it.

“No. The Holloways and Harringtons invited us out to have lunch with them. Come on,” she said, waving her hand for you to follow her like a child.

“Okay. Then you have lunch with them. I’ll be home later,” you said, standing closer to Eddie and grabbing his hand.

When you and Eddie had first gotten together you would make excuses for your mom. You used to say that she was just protective since your dad had died. Now, you had come to the light on your own about how your mom actually was.

Eddie had a feeling she would do anything to keep you and Eddie apart. Especially now that you were fighting back.

You didn’t wait for her to argue back with you as you climbed up into the van. Eddie followed your lead, scurrying over to the drivers side.

All he remembers seeing as you both drove away was the angry face of your mother in the rearview mirror.

That night, you and Eddie made a plan to move in together when Eddie graduated high school.

July 4th 1985

The tires to the van squealed as he pulled into the mall parking lot. Yellow caution tape was put up, blocking anyone from coming or going.

Eddie jumped out of the van, cursing when he saw just how massive the fire was. The fire was so bright that he could feel the heat hitting his face even from a distance.

No one noticed him as he climbed under the caution tape. Everyone was already too preoccupied with the disaster in front of them.

Starcourt mall was burning down. And you might be in it.

You were supposed to be here helping Nancy Wheeler find some top at one of the stores in the mall. At least that’s what you said when you called Eddie earlier and hurriedly told him you’d be over later to set off fireworks together.

When you didn’t show he became worried, even calling your mom to see if you were home. When he heard that the mall was on fire he became desperate to make sure you were okay. He didn’t even know if his heart was beating in his chest anymore from the fear.

He doesn’t even remember the drive over here. It was all a blur as he broke every traffic law in the state of Indiana.

The top of the mall was collapsing into itself from the heat. Firefighters lined the sidewalk, blasting water on it but it made no difference. The building was destroyed and so was anyone that was in it.

Eddie pushed through bodies of cops and officials to get closer. If you were in there, he was going in too. Even if it was the last thing he did, he was going to make sure you were safe.

A hand grabbed his arm and spun him around. Eddie came face to face with a tired looking police officer.

“You cannot be here!” The officer yelled over the sound of the sirens and fire.

Who knew fire was so loud?

Eddie tried to yank his arm away but the officer held on tight.

“Let me go!” Eddie grit out.

The officer tugged on him, pulling him away from where he needed to be. Eddie started swinging his arms, hoping it would break the grip enough for him to run back towards the mall.

“Keep resisting and I’m going to arrest you,” the officer warned.

Eddie had an argument formed, but it died when he heard his name called from behind him.

Eddie whirled around, searching for the sound.

He found you sitting in the back of an ambulance covered by an emergency blanket. You pushed it off, struggling to get yourself off the stretcher.. A paramedic put his hand on you to keep you in place.

Eddie broke away from the officer, sprinting towards you at full speed.

“Fuck,” he yelled once he got into the stretcher and grabbed you, pulling you close to your chest.

Eddie didn’t realize he was crying until he felt you wiping his tears away.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” you kept repeating softly.

Your hair smelled like fireworks. If he still wasn’t so afraid he would laugh.

“Oh, shit. Your leg,” Eddie gasped when he saw the wound that the paramedic had been trying to tend to before he made his entrance.

“It’s okay. It’s just a scratch. Won’t even leave a scar.”

Eddie kissed you, not caring about the paramedic being able to see. His lips pressed hard into yours. For a moment when he had arrived, he had feared that he would never be able to kiss you again.

You were trying to be brave. Eddie could see the exhaustion in your face. Blood covered your shirt, more than what came from the cut on your leg. Soot and ash were smeared across your cheeks, clothes, and hands. He could tell by the look in your eyes that you had seen something bad that night, and he had the unshakeable feeling that it was going to change you.

“Baby,” Eddie muttered, as he moved far enough away for the paramedic to do his job, but while still being able to keep his hands on you, afraid that you would disappear into the air like the smoke outside. His heart still pounded in his ears and he knew the adrenaline would crash eventually, but for now he had to remain standing and strong for you. He was sure your crash was going to be significantly worse than his.

He couldn’t wait to get you home, back to the trailer, away from all of these people so he could hold you. He wouldn’t believe you were okay until he saw it for himself.

Steve Harrington approached your ambulance with a blanket wrapped around him and his blue sailor suit. Eddie would normally laugh at the sight, as he had many times before, but Steve’s condition was frightening. Bruises framed his bloodshot eyes and blood dripping down his shirt. Steve looked like he had gotten into a battle and lost instead of escaping a fire.

“Did you try to fight the fire? You know firefighters don’t actually use their fists,” Eddie asked, half joking and half serious.

Eddie noticed how Steve and you stared at each other for a moment before you decided to speak.

“He fell while trying to get out.”

For some reason, Eddie couldn’t believe that but he decided to let it go. He didn’t think a fall would leave those kinds of marks but who was he to say.

“Men in suits are here,” Steve warned you in a low voice. Eddie had the feeling that Steve was trying not to let him hear.

You laid your head back against the stretcher with a groan. “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to deal with them tonight.”

“Deal with who?” Eddie asked, feeling like he was missing something.

“Just the mall's insurance company. Probably want to make sure we can’t sue,” Steve said quickly.

You lifted your head up and gave Eddie a nervous smile.

Eddie didn’t know how to explain it but something didn’t feel right. He didn’t want to think about it though. He was just happy that you were okay.

He didn’t know what he would do if he ever lost you.

March 21, 1986

Eddie hadn’t felt right since his weird interaction in the woods earlier that day. The whole time he set up for Hellfire he felt distracted, like something was wrong.

He was so grateful when you finally arrived to bring him the supplies he had forgotten for Hellfire.

“What’s wrong?” You asked after pressing a kiss to his cheek. He hadn’t realized he was wearing his worry on his face.

Eddie peeked around you, making sure no one had snuck in through the door behind you.

“Chrissy Cunningham came to my spot at lunch. She wanted me to sell to her.” Eddie whispered.

You gave him a confused look, probably wondering what was wrong with that. Money was money no matter who it came from. Eddie knew you didn’t particularly care for the way he made money, but you never told him to stop.

“Okay? Did something happen?”

“She was acting weird. She bumped into me and I thought she was going to run away screaming. I offered her some weed but she wanted something stronger,” Eddie admitted.

“Something stronger? As in?”

“I have some stuff back at the trailer. She wants to come over and get it after the game. Please tell me you’re still coming over,” Eddie begged you.

“Yes. I’ll be there. But maybe she was just scared of you and that’s why she was acting weird,” you shrugged, sending him a sly smile.

“Oh, yeah? Am I scary?” He asked as he pulled you in.

“Terrifying,” you muttered before you leaned forward and kissed him deeply, your back hitting the edge of the table. The pieces that Eddie had already set up knocked over but neither of you cared.

The door opened and closed followed by loud, obnoxious gagging.

“Get a room,” Dustin screamed as he entered.

“This is a room,” Eddie said as he pulled away, pinning them with a harsh stare. He was already going into dungeon master mode.

You laughed, patting Eddie’s cheek. You thought it was cute when he went into his dungeon master mode. Eddie would sometimes play it up a little bit to make you laugh.

“Alright, I’m gonna go watch Lucas win,” you announced as you grabbed your bag and gave Eddie one last peck on the cheek. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot after. I love you. Everyone behave.”

“I love you too,” Eddie whispered, not wanting any of the guys to hear because they would give him shit the whole game.

He clapped his hands in front of him loudly. “Alright, let’s get started.”

October 16th, 1986-Present Day

You slowly closed the notebook and just stared at the cover. Eddie was nervous. He had tried not to hover the whole time you read but he liked watching your facial expressions whenever you read something that made you happy or sad.

Could you imagine it the way he did when he read it back? There were some things he didn’t include in the notebook, particularly the time he bought your engagement ring. He wanted that to be a surprise.

If he ever got the chance to surprise you again.

Eddie shuffled on his feet, not sure if he should say anything to you yet.

You looked up at him with tired, bloodshot eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You nodded quickly, wiping at your face. “This was a lot…I think I’m just going to go to bed now.”

Eddie understood. It was a lot of information to inhale. He hoped it wasn’t a mistake showing it to you.

You got up and walked to the spare bedroom, your room for the night since your mattress had been ruined by the leaking roof.

Eddie tried not to feel hurt by your distance as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. He thought of the times when you were inseparable. If he knew then what he knew now, he would have cherished those moments more than he already did.

You just needed time and Eddie would give you as much as you needed.

#eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you

243 notes · View notes

augustvandyne · 3 months

Note

Lucy Chen x reader

Reader is somehow involved in 5 calls Lucy gets and finally they’re actually in danger at the last call and Lucy decides to ask them out at the end

yesss i love all the lucy asks! she’s adorable, especially in this season. her smileeeee

god is not on my side

God was just not on your side today, or this whole week, if you were being honest.

You were a nurse at a local hospital here in Los Angeles, and of course you were late getting out today - again.

Yesterday you’d gotten out thirty minutes late. Which wasn’t so bad, because you lived 15 away from the hospital, and 15 away from the school. So you had enough time to run home, pick your sister up and run her to the game. She got there just in time for warmups.

But today.. you hadn’t gotten out for an hour. You were an hour late. You were all but running out of the hospital when you were finally able to go.

You rushed as quickly as you could to the house, and you were scolded by your sister, Avery, when she hopped into the car.

“Just freaking drive!” She said as she hung halfway out the door.

“I don’t want to get pulled over,” You try to remain calm, but on the inside you’re freaking out just as hard. You know how important soccer was to Avery. Especially because she’s in her senior year, which means she’s being watched every second of her playing time.

“I don’t even care. I will pay if you get a ticket. Just get me to the field!” She all but yelled at you.

You glance over at your sister. Her hair was already up and she had your guys’ moms favorite color pre-wrap around her head - it was her signature trade mark - along with her shin guards and her dirty cleats that are messing up your clean car.

You press on the gas slightly and you see red and blue flashing lights.

“Shit!” You curse, pulling over to the side of the road.

“Seriously..” Avery sits back in her seat.

“You take point Chen,” You hear out your window as a beautiful woman approaches the side of your car.

“Are you aware that you were speeding?” The officer - Chen - holds her hands in front of her confidently.

“Yes. I’m so, so, so sorry. I normally wouldn’t speed but my sister here is very late to her soccer game because I didn’t get out of work at the time I should have— which is all my fault by the way,” You spare a glance at your sister who is fuming by now. “You see, she’s a senior now and there are scouts all over the place and this is not a good look for her if she’s going to be even more late so if you could please just do whatever you’re going to do, and let me go, I will pay or do whatever you want. Just please let me get her to the high school.”

Lucy’s eyes are a bit wider than they were two minutes ago.

“Oh— well— um, I’ll let you off on a warning this time,” Lucy nods and you let out a relieved breath.

“Thank you. You are a goddess. I could kiss you.”

“Oh—“

“But I won’t,” You chuckle.

“I hope I do not see you again,” Lucy points. “Wait, that sounded rude. Just— I just hope I don’t see you again because I don’t want you to be a criminal—“

“No, I understand,” You smiled widely at the adorable woman.

“Chen,” Tim says sternly.

“Y/n!” Avery says at the same time.

“Right, we’re going. I hope not to see you again, either.”

With that, you’re off.

You guess someone on the side of the road called the cops, you weren’t really sure.

All you knew was you were walking towards the store to get a few groceries for you and your sister before your night shift, when you got punched in the face.

You were slouched down against the side of a brick building when you see two sets of feet appear in front of you.

“Chen-“

“Hey,” Lucy places a gentle hand on your shoulder, ignoring Tim’s protests. She knows all you need right now is a comforting shoulder to lean on. She would know. “What happened?”

“I—“

“It’s okay. Does your throat hurt?” Lucy rubs your shoulder soothingly with her thumb, her hand still resting there.

You nod.

“I see you have a bad bruise there on your eye, did the attacker hit you anywhere else?”

Tim is impressed by Lucy’s ease and strength throughout this process. He makes a mental note to praise her later for being so supportive to you.

“My—“ Your voice is raspy. “Ribs. There’s probably one or two broken.”

Lucy looks down at your shirt, “Do you mind if I take a look?”

You nod again, letting her know it’s okay that she looks.

She’s not surprised to see the bruising on your abdomen, and is glad to see it was only one or two like you said.

“You should go to the hospital to get checked out,” Lucy looks down at you with concerned eyes. “Did he steal anything from you?”

“My— my wallet,” You swallow, and your throat contracts painfully.

“We’ll locate that for you,” Tim promises, his eyes almost matching Lucy’s.

“Thank you,” You sniff.

“Now let’s get you to the hospital.. Y/N, right?”

You didn’t even have to tell her your name.

You were nearing the end of your shift, and to be honest, you couldn’t be any happier if you tried. Partly because you were already as excited as you could get due to you finally getting to leave after an overly long day. But you were also too tired to get even more excited.

But as of late God hasn’t been in your favor. Which really explains why the second you’re about to pack up to change, the hospital is hit with a bunch of traumas - all hands on deck.

You guessed it might have been some kind of mass casualty. Maybe a multiple car pile up or a shooting.

Your suspicions only grew when one of the officers you’ve come to be familiar with - Officer Bradford - and another officer came strolling in. They had concerned looks on their faces.

You couldn’t help but notice Officer Chen (still no first name) wasn’t with him.

Officer Bradford spots you and almost immediately is by your side, hounding you for information.

“Do you know where she is?” You can see the fear in his eyes. He’s terrified for whoever he may be looking for. “She was hit- and- and- Jackson too. I- I should’ve seen it coming.”

“It’s okay Tim,” The woman that stands beside Tim shares a similar expression to him. You were guessing this woman was Jackson’s partner. The officer says in a much calmer voice, “Have you seen any officers be brought in?”

“No,” You swallow thickly and watch as their faces fall. “But I’ll find out right now.”

You see relief flash through Tim’s eyes as you back up and speed through the doors that lead into the emergency room.

Lucy locks her eyes on you, and you are at her side in a second. Another nurse is helping her but you tell her, “I got this one. Help the other officer over there.”

“Tim sent you,” Lucy says through her teeth, in an obvious amount of pain. She was tough and when in pain she didn’t show it. You admired that.

“He did,” You admit, lifting the gauze to see the wound on her cheek. “What happened?”

“We were hit by another car. We were chasing- I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” Lucy looks down.

“It’s okay,” You smile down at her. “You were caught in a traumatic situation, it causes a little shock- which is what you are experiencing.”

She hisses in pain when you tap at her wound with a disinfectant.

“Thank you,” Lucy locks her gorgeous brown eyes on yours.

“Of course.”

You loved Avery, you really, really did, but you hated soccer games.

Not because of the game itself, because you loved to see Avery play. There was nothing you loved more than seeing Avery happy. But you hated the parents.

They are downright rude. They call out at the other kids who are doing just fine, and then praise their own.

“Come on Avery! That was a clear shot!” One of the girls’ fathers stands to shout from the sideline.

You are fuming by now, because that was at least the tenth time this man has shouted at Avery.

“There were three girls in her way,” You point your hand in the direction of the goal.

“She could have shot over them,” The man shrugs. “She’s done it before.”

“Yeah maybe when it wasn’t twenty degrees outside,” You roll your eyes.

“Oh, so now you’re blaming the weather on her poor shooting skills?” The man is still standing as he crossing his arms.

“Well I’m just saying it is pretty windy as well,” You stand too. “You weren’t opposed to blaming weather twenty minutes ago when your daughter missed her shot.”

“That’s—“

“Oh, yeah?” You raise your brows.

“You—“ The man begins to get in your face.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Tim shouts from the side, coming into your view. “Get away from the woman.”

“Or what?”

“I think you know,” Lucy stands confidently, and you have to admit that you’re attracted to her confidence in that moment.

A look flashes over the man’s face but he does back off from your face.

You let out a relieved breath, shooting a thankful smile in Lucy’s direction, Lucy smiling back. And oh my, was it breathtaking.

Lucy nods at you in understanding and as a goodbye.

“I hope I won’t be seeing you again,” Lucy tells the man, trying her best to not pose it as a threat.

As if you didn’t have enough on your plate already, someone was now stealing your mail and packages.

You’d ordered new chargers for your car and for the house at least three times now, and they have all been stolen.

“Again?” Avery asked with a concerned face as you searched the porch for something - anything.

“Yes!” You threw your arms up. “This is the third time. I don’t have the money to just keep spending.”

“I know,” Avery’s face holds a frown. “Maybe you should call that hot cop so she can help you figure it out.”

Your face turns a faint shade of pink at her comment.

Avery smirks, “That’s my dose of humor for the day. I’m off to school. I won’t be home until later, one of the girls with drop me off here. But seriously, get this figured out. Maybe actually go to the police about it.”

“I’ll try.”

And you did.

You really weren’t trying to run into Lucy, or make up reasons to talk to her, but you could see that’s not what it looked like here.

As you think this, it feels as if someone is listening to you. Or it’s just Avery.

Because when you enter the station, there is the cute cop you haven’t been able to get enough of.

You watch Lucy for a second.

She was standing up, but leaning on the counter, her head resting on her folded arms. Her eyes were closed as if she was sleeping, but when you stepped closer she says, “Nolan, if you have a can of silly string, I will kick you in the—“

“I don’t know who Nolan is, but he seems like a piece of work,” You joke, and Lucy is snapped up-right.

“Y/n,” Lucy smiles, grabbing at her coffee tumbler to fidget with. “What are you doing here? I thought I said I didn’t want to see you again? Although, I’m not going to complain. Anyway, uh, what can I do for you?”

You smile nervously, in a good way, and say, “I think someone is stealing my packages.. I’ve ordered phone chargers at least three different times, and they’ve all been stolen.”

Lucy nods attentively, watching you closely, her hands still wrapped around the cup.

“Okay. Let’s just fill out a form, and I will make sure our best detective, Angela Lopez, you’ve actually met her— anyway,” Lucy closes her eyes, pushing a hand into her forehead. “I’ll make sure she gets on it right away.”

“Thank you,” You smile, the two of you locking eyes. “You like coffee?”

“What?”

“The tumbler,” You point. “You like coffee? I’m more of a tea girl myself.”

“Oh— yeah, I like coffee.”

“Good to know,” You tilt your head and turn to walk out.

You just wanted to go to the bank. You really did. Everything you do lately seems to be done with a run in with police and with God on your bad side.

You freeze when you hear the shooting start. Someone has to pull you down to be stopped from getting shot.

Time flies by as he begins making threats and as the cops show up - them trying to compromise with the man.

“No! No!” The man shouted at himself. He had obvious injuries from days leading up to this. You could see infection blooming.

He stares right at you, catching your eye. He grabs your arm and lifts you with a grunt.

You choke back a sob as he says into the phone, “I have someone— her name is—“

“Y/n— Y/n,” You stutter into the phone.

“I’ll shoot her. I will.”

And then he hangs up.

“You’re too close to this Chen,” Tim shakes his head, watching her as she stirs up ideas.

“Lucy?” Nyla and Angela ask at the same time.

“That might be useful,” John says, receiving a few questioning looks. “Well, I’m just saying. She might be able to trip him up.”

“That’s a good idea,” Wade points. “Lucy, how well do you know with woman?”

Lucy doesn’t know how to answer that. She just picks the phone back up and begins to get the man on the line.

“You need to let her go,” Lucy says in a stern voice, stunning everyone. Even you.

“What for?”

“Because I like her. She’s so sweet and so kind. The kindest I’ve ever meet. I don’t know her well, but I hope to over dinner because I would love to get to know her on a personal level, rather than a police and civilian level. She has a sister to take care of, and you can’t take a life of another one of her loved ones. She’s a nurse at the hospital— one of the best. You can’t take her life away just because you’re too insecure to do anything about yourself.”

The man stays quiet, and for a second you really think he’s going to kill you.

“I’ll let her go,” The man begins, and you can hear Lucy let out a shaky but relieved breath. “On one condition.”

“And what might that be?” Lucy’s confident voice was back, and if she was being serious about the date, you already knew what your answer was going to be.

“I walk out of here free. With 250K.”

“Fine,” Lucy agrees.

“That’s a quarter of a million dollars—“ You hear Tim shriek before Lucy hangs the phone up.

You’re pushed to the ground back where you were before when the LAPD comes rushing into the bank.

Lucy was at your side in an instant, ushering you to your feet, trying to take you towards the ambulance so you could get checked.

“I’m okay,” You promise Lucy.

“I can’t be so sure,” Lucy chuckles.

You nod awkwardly.

“Okay, well,” Lucy turns to go, but you stop her.

“Did you.. mean what you said?”

Lucy turns back to you and looks at the ground for a second.

“If you didn’t, it’s okay. I mean, I would love to go out if you—“

Next thing you know, Lucy’s lips are on yours. Her lips are soft and kissable and everything you’ve imagined, but better.

“I meant everything I said,” She holds your face in her hands. “And, would you like to?”

“Like I was saying,” You touch your nose to hers. “I would love to.”

#the rookie #the rookie x reader #wlw post #lucy chen #lucy chen x reader #tim bradford #angela lopez #nyla harper #wade grey #john nolan #lovaaaa #i’m obsessed with her!!!!

64 notes · View notes

timetoletmyimaginationfly · 3 months

Text

It’s That Rare Type Of Love

Nanami Kento x Reader

(Song Inspiration: P.S. I LOVE YOU by Paul Partohap)

Nanami Kento. A man that no one really knows about. One that is mysterious because they only know him as the CEO.

“He’s probably single,” Gojo said while typing up his report.

“Oooh, and pours himself a glass of whiskey after a long day of work. He seems like the whiskey type,” Geto added.

“That actually sounds really nice to have,” Gojo added. Geto nodded. “Let’s go out for a drink tonight.”

“Okay, that sounds like a plan.” Arms were wrapped around their shoulders. They looked up to see Shoko behind them and Haibara behind her. “Yo! Bar tonight?”

“Sure,” Shoko replied, always down to whatever plan they have. She turned to Haibara. “Honey?”

“Yeah, we can go out,” he said with a bright smile. “Should we invite Nanami-san?”

“Nah,” Gojo and Geto said.

“That’s our boss,” Gojo said. “Who hangs out with the boss?” The three of them shrugged.

Haibara looked at the closed door, where Nanami remains engrossed with his work.

“It be a nice gesture,” Haibara said.

“I’m going outside to smoke. Wanna come guys?” The three of nodded and stood up to walk out the building.

It was a beautiful, fall day. It wasn’t too cold nor too hot. The breeze felt nice from the warmth of the sun. Leaves around them were changing colors. It was beautiful outside.

“I need to find a girl,” Gojo said as he saw couples walk past them. A particular woman caught his eye. “Like her!” You wore a rusty, orange dress with brown heels. You held a lunchbox and looked around.

“Invite her out tonight,” Geto said. They watched you pull your phone out. “After her phone call.” Gojo nodded.

“Maybe she has a friend,” Gojo added. Geto nodded.

“We’ll be ready for cuff season,” Geto said. “Maybe we can bring boss man with us. We can find a woman for him.”

They all nodded, agreeing to finally invite Nanami and planning to ask him out once they return back inside.

“Kento-kun!” The four of them turned around. Their eyes widened to see Nanami walk outside with a bright smile on his face. They watched you skip to him and the two of you hugged.

“Well, Boss man has you beat,” Geto said.

“You think she has friends?” Gojo asked.

“That’s sweet, she brought him lunch,” Shoko said.

They slightly jumped back when they saw Nanami look at them. Nanami whispered in your ear and you nodded. He held your hand and lead you to them.

“Smoke break?” Nanami asked curiously. Shoko nodded, finishing her cigarette. She looked at you and waved.

“Girlfriend?” Nanami shook his head and held your hand up, revealing the large engagement ring and matching wedding band.

“Married?!” the boys exclaimed. You giggled. Nanami nodded and introduced them to you.

“How come we never noticed?!” Gojo exclaimed, slightly sad that he knows that he’ll never have a chance with you.

“I don’t talk about my personal life,” Nanami said then looked at Gojo and Geto. “I may not arrive home alone since I’m not single but my wife and I like to drink some sort of alcohol beverage together.”

“Oh, you heard us.” Nanami nodded.

“If the stand still offers, I would like to join you guys tonight,” he said. “May my wife come?”

“I-I don’t want to intrude,” you said. Shoko smiled and held your hand.

“Please come!” she pleaded excitedly. You smiled.

“Okay! Kento-kun, should I meet you guys?”

“I’ll pick you up, sweetheart.” Seeing Nanami smile warmly at you was such a sight for them.

“Great! Nanami-san! You should spend more time with us! Better yet, I’ll make sure to invite you and your wife,” Haibara said. Nanami blush, another surprising action for the guys to see.

“Kento-kun would love that!” you said excitedly. “I’ve been bugging this grumpy butt to make friends, but I can understand why it would be difficult. Well I shouldn’t hold you all up. It was nice meeting you guys.”

“Likewise!” said the boys. You hugged Shoko and then turned to Nanami.

“Have a good rest of the day,” you said happily. Nanami smiled and leaned down to kiss your lips softly.

“Thank you for bringing my lunch,” he said softly. “You’re going to go shopping?”

“I might as well,” you said. “Utahime’s wedding is coming up.” Nanami pulled his wallet out and gave you his card. You blushed and shyly thanked him. You still prefer him to not do that, but you knew he would make sure you had his card on you at all times if you wanted to shop.

“Get anything you want, sweetheart,” he said and kissed you again. With one last kiss, you waved at the group as you left. Once you were out of sight, Gojo looked at their CEO.

“How’d you win her over?” he asked, curious as ever. Someone so bubbly with someone they find to be too serious.

“High school sweetheart,” Nanami answered proudly.

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #nanami jjk #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami fanfic #nanami #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen au #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff

108 notes · View notes

elvensorceress · 1 month

Note

So there is a "leaked" script that claims Eddie asked Marisol to move in, and is it just me, or is that completely out of character for Eddie? He dated Ana for longer, and they weren't living together. we are really supposed to believe that he would ask Marisol to move in after a few months of dating? Unless Eddie is unable to process anything after learning his Buck. Is dating a man that is not him, and instead of breaking up with her like he planned, he pulls a Buck and asks her to move in with him.

Eddie does not deserve to be stuck with someone like Marisol.

According to 7x04, he apparently needs a live-in babysitter so he can go out with his shiny new boyfriend. So… 🤣 And it took a whole relationship and a blackout before Ana was his babysitter! Just from that much I’m still going, yikes. Like, girl, do you not have friends? Do you not have someone who will tell you this relationship is red flags all over the place? Can we not call up your Folger brother and have him talk some sense into you?

You’re very right though. Eddie deserves so much better.

I have heard about the supposed leaked scripts and I’ll talk some about that under a cut below in case anyone wants to read my thoughts on it.

But what I’ll say in general is that in some of the interviews we’ve been seeing recently especially with canon bi!Buck, Mr. Showrunner had scathing things to say about love interests who are just there to be love interests. He didn’t like that they couldn’t interact with any of the other characters and that they weren’t part of the overall story.

Given we’ve had what, two? offhand comments and maybe five whole seconds of screen time this season with her, if they wanted to actually develop that relationship for the audience, they could have done that. And should have done that a long, long time ago. (For example, see Eddie and Tommy’s relationship. In one whole episode they did more to build that up than they have done for Eddie/allegedgirlfriendconfirmedterf in all of season 6 or 7.)

Instead, they showcased the bond between Buck and the Diazes and the trauma that Eddie and Chris still have over Shannon leaving and them losing her. And also Eddie’s new friendship with Tommy that sounded like they were both spending every day, every moment together.

So far for Miss Homophobe, we have—

hey mari it me eddie from the hardware store

the phone call where they set up a date

it's not MY date it's CHRIS' date (r u sure, dude? why is she there then 🤣)

her chaperoning Chris’ date with Eddie

her babysitting twice off screen

Obviously, she’s in the next episode and they have a pizza date while Eddie has to stare at his bestest friends while they’re on a date. But at this point, if you want the audience to root for the relationship or enjoy it at the very least, it’s a little late in the game for that? We have nothing to go on and it doesn’t make sense if we’re taking it at face value.

All this to say, if he does ask her to move in with him, there is no way for the audience to buy that it’s genuine, reasonable, or a smart move. It reads like Buck asking Taylor to move in with him because he cheated and he’s desperate and clinging. Even if Eddie and the terf show up and are all happy and handsy and lovey, it’s not convincing. There’s been no development. It would come across like Buck and Ali apartment hunting and being touchy and giggly, and then her dumping him at the end of the episode. It sets up a contrast between what we think is happening and what is really happening. Perceived happiness vs the reality of not knowing each other and their relationship crumbling.

I don’t remember who said it or when it was said, maybe it was Kristen? But I know someone talked about how Eddie rushed things with Ana and they were wanting to do the opposite when continuing his story. Dating someone for (how long has it even been? 2-3 months? Idek? Does Eddie even know?) Mere months and asking them to move in reeks of, “something is going wrong and I have to fix it by doing something rash and ill-advised to keep us together.”

Remind me to do a post about Eddie also being someone who clings and stays because it’s convenient and he doesn’t want to be alone.

It would be completely out of character if it is a sincere, legit thing. However, as a panic response? I buy it. But that also doesn’t bode well for their future. Darn. Hold on, I’ll get the champagne. That relationship is just waiting to be bones. And in an episode called, “You Don’t Know Me,” is where they’re putting their relationship under a microscope? Hildy, cue up the ominous music.

I doubt the glorious day we are free of her will be this week. I think they are just starting whatever they have planned. Unfortunately. I would hope they kept her around and brought her back for a reason like what they did with Eddie/Ana. I want there to be something satisfying about the end and the fact that we have to suffer through this. It just needs to happen quickly because I am so over homophobic terfs who know what fucking show they’re on and what the story is and still persist in their assholish bigotry.

Now? My thoughts on the leaks?

IF we are to believe they are legit, and who knows if they are. But if we are saying they are legit, then Buck comes out to Eddie at the very end and Eddie is surprised. So, Eddie likely wouldn’t be jealous or weird about Buck and Tommy dating if he didn’t even know they are dating. Plus, they just had a whole episode dedicated to jealous!Buck and it would be redundant to immediately take that into, now EDDIE is the JEALOUS ONE. I think they’d have to take the story further for Eddie to really consider how he feels about Buck and Tommy dating.

Maybe it will come down to him being displeased by it (for some unknown reason he just can't put his finger on) and grappling with how he genuinely likes Tommy a lot and that’s a new thing for him and one of Buck’s love interests? But it wouldn’t happen this week. In theory, this week is about Buck feeling like he’s hiding because he just realized he’s bi and hasn’t told anyone yet. Hence, more of the “you don’t know me.”

Obviously, I am rooting for Buddie. All the way. All the time. I like Buck/Tommy just fine but they’re not BuckandEddie. But I think it will take a while before we see anything that might really develop the Buck & Eddie storyline. They’re working on Buck’s bisexual awakening and his first time dating a man. WHERE OH WHERE ARE MY EDDIE STORYLINES. I just want them to do some justice for my boy. Give him something interesting! And for the terf to gtf away from him. :D

And apologies, I rambled a lot at you. Love and hugs!

#911 spoilers #911 s7 spoilers #911 season 7 #jenwyn gets mail #and talks way too much sorry #leaked scripts #?? supposedly? idk how to tag THAT #oh sorry this is so long 🫣#long post

43 notes · View notes

nijigasakilove · 17 days

Text

The way these girls save me every week.. jaw on the floor, best episode of the season, from any anime. I’m so moved. Wrap it up, this is AOTS. So much to go over in this one

Ok for starters, them uploading the wrong video and still going viral is hilarious 😭 luckily it gave them a lot of attention and still helped build up their brand.

But what made this episode so special for me was Yoru dealing with her insecurities about her art. As a content creator I really empathise with her getting upset about other people drawing her art and going viral.

Even though it should’ve been something that was flattering, it just makes you feel like “what am I doing wrong, why am I not getting that attention”. Combine that with the rude comments some people put on her posts and her general insecurities with her friends’ accomplishments and it’s no wonder she went into a depressive state.

Even with Kano telling her she loved her art, it wasn’t enough because she was constantly comparing it to everyone else’s.. The scene of Kano pulling Yoru’s face into her stomach, they were teasing us hard😩

The biggest thing is how she didn’t just give up, but used that as fuel and actually improved her art significantly by the end. You can either quit or just work on improving yourself, ultimately the only validation that’ll work is from within.

After all their hard work, a shrine visit to ring in the new year and pray for success in the upcoming year... but WHAT THE FUCK, a KISS??!? “Yuri bait” copers are seething rn. They laid crumbs throughout the episode like Yoru and Kano in Yoru’s room, the train, “I like your singing and you” but I didn’t expect a proper kiss out of nowhere like that. Please don’t walk this back next episode because I need this 😭

#animangahive #animanga #animanga hive #jellyfish can't swim in the night #yorukura #yoru no kurage wa oyogenai #spring 2024 #spring 2024 anime

34 notes · View notes

aphroditeslover11 · 5 months

Text

Secret Santa

Thanks to @nimnim-girl for her help with the ideas, couldn't have done it without you lovely 💕

Warnings: Alcohol and allusions to adultery, author didn't proofread!

It December at Los Alamos and the ground was dusted with snow. It was freezing all the time now and the mesa was turning into some sort of desert winter wonderland. The scientists were all huddled in winter coats as they moved between buildings and the army men were doing their best to look unphased by the biting wind. You were here working as an assistant to Hans Bethe who was heading the Theoretical Division. You weren’t a scientist yourself, actually studying philosophy, but Dr Oppenheimer had picked you up during his travels, intending that you would work under him before he handed the role over to his friend.

There were ten days remaining until Christmas and you were determined to try and spread a little more festive spirit around the place. Yes, some lights had been put up and you had badgered Oppie to have some carols playing over the radio of the base, but everyone still seemed miserable. You were close to the director, regardless of how much his wife hated it, and you were hoping that you might have his ear on this. At the end of another day you made your way to his office, feeling lucky that there were no other secretaries around and knocking on the door.

“Come in, if you must,” you heard, pushing open the door. Robert looked up from his desk and his face brightened a little when he saw you. Everyone knew how much pressure he was under, so it was a rare sight now.

“Please, y/n, I apologise for my greeting. I thought you might have been Groves. How are you? Do take a seat.”

“Groves giving you a headache again Oppie?”

“When is he not?” He laughed, but you could hear the weariness behind it.

“I have an idea, I want to help the others.” Robert leant forward on his desk.

“My dear, we have been through this. You don’t understand the ridiculous things that the men here are trying to do, hell, I don’t half the time. I know you’re trying to help, but there is nothing…”

“Oh lord no, you can keep your physics to yourself. I mean that you need to make more of an effort on morale.” He looked puzzled.

“What do you mean?” He took his pipe from his desk, lighting it and starting to smoke, as he always did when a matter perplexed him.

“This place is suffocating in depression, almost as much as I am right now in your pipe-smoke.”

“I can open a window…”

“I’d rather be warm. Anyway, it’s nearly Christmas, I don’t care what Oppie but please, I’m dying here, you have to do something for the season.”

The conversation had gone on for a while longer, the culmination being that he agreed to hold a Christmas party for all of the scientists to attend. There was already a plan, from Feynman predictably, to have a piss-up in the bachelors dorms, but you were hoping that this might prove to be a little more of a unifying force. On top of this, you had also suggested a secret Santa exchange, which he agreed to. Typically when you pulled the names out of the hat you ended up with Oppie - what on earth do you get for the man who owns Picassos and Van Gogh paintings?

When the day of the party finally came Robert turned up to the main hall of Los Alamos on his own, wearing a suit and tie with his usual pork pie hat. He had just had a row with Kitty who had decided to stay at home. His mood was clearly compromised, but he managed to pull a smile onto his face. He immediately made his way over to where the alcohol was being kept, fixing himself a whiskey before going to find Ravi, needing someone to take his mind off things. By the time you arrived, late after one of the typewriters had jammed itself and you were left to fix it, he was a fair few drinks down.

There was a big crowd around the director, who was telling a ridiculous story of how he had returned from a trip collecting minerals with trench dysentery as a youth. This story coming out was the hallmark of a fairly intoxicated Oppie, and Isidor gave you a knowing look as you made your way over. As soon as Robert saw you he raised his arms in a slightly exaggerated welcome, before wrapping one around you and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. Great - he decided that you were going to be his distraction for the night.

“My dear, how wonderful of you to finally join us. I was just telling the story of when…”

“I know Opp, you’ve told me it before remember.” You cut him off, feeling an acute sense of second hand embarrassment.

The evening wore on and it was mostly a case of forcing water down your boss’s throat until he was sufficiently sober to go back into polite conversation. He spent most of the party trailing after you with an arm around your waist. You’d tried to shake him off but we’re getting nowhere, you just hoped that his wife didn’t suddenly show up out of the blue. It was clear now that he was ashamed of his actions, but he was slowly getting back to his usual self. After a heavy day you decided to call it quits early when you heard a shout from behind you.

“Y/n, hang on, I need your for one more thing.” He pulled a neatly wrapped present from a nearby surface. That was when you remembered the gift you had in your bag for him. What were the chances of getting each other?

“Well this is a coincidence, I seem to have got you as well.”

You made your way to a corner before exchanging gifts. His was slightly messily wrapped, you could picture him getting frustrated as the tape stuck to itself and the colourful language coming out of his mouth just looking at it. Yours was much more neat, complete with a bow and all. After exchanging a few words about the coincidence of getting each other in the draw you swapped, unwrapping the gifts opposite one another. Your mouths dropped open when you saw what you were holding - an anthology of the poetry of Byron, different editions, but the same work. Robert was the first to break the silence.

“Well, it would seem that we both thought alike my dear…” he was chuckling as he said it.

“Oppie, I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t had any idea…” You were stuttering, trying to make some sense of the situation.

“Y/n, stop worrying, I love Byron or I wouldn’t have bought it for you and I’m guessing you would say the same thing to me, yes?” You nod in response.

“Clearly we have bought the perfect thing for one another then. Let’s just say it’s a sign of how well we understand one another.” He lifted an arm to your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Now go home and have a good night of sleep, I think we both have a little reading to do, and I have some other things to sort out.” He placed a kiss on your cheek, though a lot more dignified than earlier, before leaving you to go on your way.

The next morning you opened the door of your room to find a singular red rose with a ribbon wrapped around the stem, there was clearly going to be more to come.

#oppenheimer #cillian murphy #american prometheus #oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer #oppie #tommy shelby #cillian murphy x reader #christopher nolan

55 notes · View notes

cosmal · 1 year

Note

okayy since my profile’s all fucked again im gonna keep annoying in ur ask box…

rugby!james learning to make time for reader after they start datingg

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 — 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

summary you don’t think you have anymore time to see james. he promises to make an effort. so do you.

also this is unedited sorry

warnings/tags fem!reader, she/her pronouns rugby!james, angst, fluff at the end

word count 1.4k

“What about Thursday?” you call through the door, rinsing your hands through warm water, washing the suds from your wrists as a distraction.

“Training. You know that. Every Thursday.” He doesn’t say it cruelly, more of a soft reminder to move past it.

“No, James. You told me it was cancelled this week.”

Through the door, James can still hear your upset building. It has his chest tightening with worry because he really didn’t want this to happen this season. Juggling his training and games, and your job and meetings has become more of a problem the further into the rugby season he gets. His team keeps winning games and your work just keeps piling up.

He waits for you to open the door but it doesn’t happen. He hears the tap squeak off and then your pacing.

“I did?” he asks because he really doesn’t remember.

“Yes,’’ your voice trails off.

He doesn’t argue. It’s likely. “Hey, open up and we can figure something out, yeah?”

There’s some rustling, lids getting clicked closed and then the metal crash of your pedal bin slamming shut before you open up. You’re all done up and pretty, eyes sparkling with a sheen of glitter and a lip gloss James loves. A black dress he also loves. To death. If you didn’t look so worried he’d make a cheesy, lovely comment.

He’d also soothe the pinched crease between your eyebrows if he knew it wouldn’t ruin the 45 minute job you’d done with your makeup.

“What’s there to figure out?” you ask, voice a little pitched up, “You have rugby, I’ll have a meeting. It’s the same as always.”

You walk past him to your dresser, clicking on the yellow light bulbs to search for a pair of earrings. James follows.

“What do you mean the same?’’ he asks, catching a view of you in the mirror, standing behind you with his arms folded over his chest.

You lean forward to pierce a gold hoop through your ear and catch his eyes, sighing you say, “Please, James. I don’t want to argue, I have to leave in ten minutes and I don’t want to be in a bad mood for the whole night.”

“When did we start arguing?” he asks, closing the gap between the both of you. You stand up straight, turning to press your back into the lip of your dresser. The gap grows again and James hates it.

“James,” you sigh, twisting a little too roughly at the gold in your ears so the clip is at the back.

“What did you mean by the same as always?” he asks.

If he didn’t look so sad you’d say something like you know what I mean, James. You decide against it when he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. A habit of his you hate. You’d reach forward and tug it from his mouth if you thought just his touch right now wouldn’t have you unravelling. It always does. You’ll appologise for getting angry and he’ll applogise for arguing or whatever and the subject will be forgotten until next week.

You have the urge to forget about it. The stronger urge to actually talk to him.

“You’ve just been so busy lately,” you tell him, “So have I. I just, what…what if nothing ever changes?”

“Hey, the season’s almost over. Then I’m all yours.” he tells you, more hopeful than you are. Than you’ve been for the past few weeks.

You sigh. Because it’s tiring and because it’s nothing new. “And then in another eight weeks you’ll have the pre-season. You spend more time on that oval than you do in your own apartment.”

James deflates, full body, letting his shoulders slump forward. The charismatic, strong front he tries to put on falters only for a moment. It’s different. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, honey.”

Your hands squeak around the wood of your dresser where you lean backwards, “That’s exactly my point, James.” you exasperate, working yourself up more than you wanted to be. You don’t want to be this way with him, it’s not how you’d of like to have handled this situation. Your guilt eats at your tongue but you don’t stop, “You can’t skip training or games, I’d never ask you of that. It’s a problem with no solution.”

James eyes flicker behind the glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. Sniffling before he says, “What are you saying?”

You become a little too defensive, “I don’t know!”

“You want to break up?” he asks, quieter than he’s ever been around you. He hates it, you hate it even more.

You shake your head, leaning up off your furniture and step closer to him, exasperated you say, “God, no, James. That’t the last thing I want.”

He nods, a little more hopeful, “Right.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Jesus Christ, no.” He doesn’t even think before he answers you. He’d never have to.

“Okay,” you say before closing the space berween you entirely. Wanting his comfort more than anything.

He gives it to you willingly, snaking his arms around your back, his fingers warm against the bare skin under your straps, “Hey, okay,’ he says, curls touching his eyelashes, ‘’What if I promise to make more of an effort?”

“You make a lot of effort,”

He shakes his head and you brush his curls back. Something simple, but also something you both need, Simple touches. “More though.”

You tilt your head back, “More?”

“I promise to make dinners and I’ll- I’ll come visit you on your lunch breaks,”

“James…”

He grins boyishly and you’ve missed the ten minutes you had without it. His smile is a treasure. “I mean it!” he laughs, though still entirely serious, “I’ll make sure I don’t go overtime at trainings and when I do get home I promise to give you more back massages than you need.”

“James,” you repeat, smile almost as bright as his, “I can’t ask you to do all those things, you’ll get tired and I don’t want that.”

His smile tampers down, “No I won’t.”

“No?”

“No. And if I do, I don’t care. I want to make this work.”

You peck his top lip, too quick for James’ liking, “I do too.” Another kiss, “I do.” you murmur against the light stubble of his jaw.

“Good,” he says, pecking you back. Too quick for your own liking. You’re both holding back the strong urge to appologise like idiots.

“I promise to make time for you too,” you tell him seriously.

“You’ll give me massages?” he asks hopefully, squeezing you closer to prove his point. His hands are a heat you need, feeling yourself lean futher into him until he sits down on the frame of your bed.

“Sure,” you say, completely truthfully. You will. You might love it more than him.

There’s a small beat where James is staring at you too intently. You can feel your cheeks under his loving gaze. “We can get through this,”

You blink, “You think?”

His smile is once again too soft and you can feel yourself melting, “I know.”

You push his glasses back up his nose and his face screws up all dazed, “How?”

“Because, I love you and I’d do anything for you.” he murmurs, leaning up to kiss you. Warm and tender against your skin that sticks to him. He huffs into your mouth until you’re both smiling which makes kissing almost impossible. Still, you kiss like it’s your first.

You pull away all flushed and glassy eyed, “You’re awful,” you pant.

“Awful? I’d say more like charming,” he says indiginantly. His boyish charm washing back over him like he’d never lost it.

“Don’t say things like that when I’ve spent so much time on my makeup,” you laugh wetly, pushing your fingertips into your hot cheeks. Careful not to smudge anything.

James pouts lovingly, pulling you back into his firm chest, “Oh, don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he coos, fighting the urge to hold you so tight it messes you hair and makeup entirely. “We’re okay,” he repeats, quieter than last.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he echoes. “Now turn around so I can zip your dress.”

You frown over his shoulder, “It already is zipped up,”

“No, I want to unzip it. Wanna see what’s underneath before you go out.”

You pull back and lightly slap him over his chest, “James!”

How could you ever think you’d never fix anything with a boyfriend so charming. It’d be impossible.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter imagine #james potter headcanon #james potter drabbles #james potter fanfiction

621 notes · View notes

wlfpet · 1 year

Text

ABBY ‘WAR MACHINE’ ANDERSON

—short thoughts

• A honey girl, always keeps a summer tan, usually from working out on the quad all day. Practically glowing all of the time and the girls are insane about it.

• Sorry, the braid is dead. Only ever really wears it on the rugby field, and when she’s walking around campus, her hair is usually down, or up in a bun and held back with a sweatband. Whatever mental image you’re conjuring in your mind, it’s correct. Even that one.

• Her father is the country’s premier neurosurgeon, and he’s donated a lot of money to Jackson University. A library there, a faculty building there, even refurbishing the rugby field for the season. He practically gives a blank check each year, and because of this, consequences don’t really exist for Abs and she gets away with any and everything. The reason why she has an air fryer in her dorm and the RAs pretend like they don’t see it.

• Proud community strap. Was notorious freshman year for having a rotating cycle of girlfriends and side pieces. ‘Those are not healthy coping mechanisms, Abby.’ Her therapist says, but is there really any better way to ease your mind that slipping deep into a warm body, tight and soft and wet? No, probably not.

• Has the prettiest smile, smiles with her eyes, always so charming with plump, kissable lips. Has perfect teeth, never missed a dentist appointment and gets check ups religiously. Had braces in the 10th grade and when she had her first kiss with a girl she cut her lip and it bled all down her mouth. She probably fainted idk.

• Girl himbo (I know what I said.) butch himbo? Butchbo? Actually super smart and well read, majoring in animal science to become a vet tech. Spends a lot of her time in the school library, when she’s not on the field, or at a party, or in a stranger’s bed. Or in her own bed, nursing a hangover, whatever’s more common.

• Still roommates with Manny since freshman year. Originally she got set up with Leah, who then of course wanted to room with her boyfriend, who was conveniently dorming with Manny. A little form-filling here, some schmoozing there, a little ‘my dad owns this school’ over yonder and it was a match made in heaven. Nobody has a deeper, more intimate connection than a butch lesbian and her boy best friend.

• Terribly afraid of needles. She can’t pinpoint specifically what she has against them but they inspire the same nausea in her that heights do, so when she can she steers clear of them. In a turn of drunken, reckless events, Manny convinced her to get her ears pierced, because pretty girls love stud earrings, obviously. By the time the piercer did one ear, Manny had to carry her out of the parlor because she had COMPLETELY passed out.

• Between classes and practice, she forgot to clean her piercing and her ear got infected. She had two large-scale mental breakdowns; the first when she woke up leaking and burning from her ear, which had already sucked the metal halfway into the flesh, and the second, when her dumbass roommate said, “it’s okay, man. I have pliers, I can pull it out for you and then you’re good as new.” She almost threw up.

• The great piercing debacle of ‘21 ended in her calling up her dad, bawling, because she didn’t know what to do, Manny sitting on the couch listening to her freak the fuck out in the bathroom. “This is what happens when you put foreign objects into your body, Abs.” He chided, as *another* needle was plunged into her skin —local anesthetic— before he sliced open her earlobe with a scalpel.

• The proud driver of a cherry-red enclosed Jeep Wrangler, fully paid off by her dad as a highschool graduation gift, an upgrade from the white Audi she got as a 16th birthday present. She gets it rewrapped every six months —the ice blue was real popular with the ROTC girls, the olive green got the environmental club girls out of their panties, the red and black is a pretty good catch-all— (school colours, by the way!)

• Gets her car detailed once every two weeks, the back seat has those mud mats laid down. they’re not for mud.

• Retired horse girl, ALMOST got a pony for her fourteenth birthday! Then, shit happened… and she didn’t get the pony for her fourteenth birthday.

• Loves revenge and power plays, actually! It’s her specialty at this point😚 Got into some medium-tier beef with some dickhead on campus, and somehow his mouth got ahead of him and ended with her being branded as the town’s bulldyke. Interestingly enough, the day didn’t end in Anderson-typical violence. Instead, as one does, she trailed him home one day, borrowing Nora’s black sedan for recon. Just for field research, obviously!

• In the interest of honesty, Abs was definitely planning on stealing the wheels off of his car, or putting bleach in his gas tank, —sugar is a myth, just so you know— until she saw the most beautiful creature strolling out of the house and into a white SUV. Then, her plan changed for absolute scorched-earth total destruction, to an excruciating slow-burn.

• The next week, while shopping at the grocery store which she totally didn’t drive 30 minutes out of her way to go to, she had her first meet cute, coincidentally, with a gorgeous 40-something that just so happened to be some asshole’s mom.

• Before she knew it, she was fucking her on every surface in her house, —artfully furnished, great feng-shui— the kitchen, the bathroom, her marital bed, the couch, essentially the full tour, until they got to her son’s bedroom. Kept a mental note, and when she excused herself to the bathroom she probably erased all of the little shit’s PlayStation saves, too.

• When you start fucking a guy’s mom, it changes you. Your wardrobe especially. Including an arsenal of completely coincidental, just for fun slogan tees, with hits like “I ❤️ HOT MOMS!” “PROMOTED TO DADDY” and a personal favourite, “MAN, I LOVE FISHING!”

* And of course, she comes back to campus fresh off of a 3 hour stint of eating out a woman twice her age, to greet her new best friend with a smile and a, “Hey, your mom makes a good apple fritter! Dessert was fuckin’ greaaat, too! Practically finger lickin’ :)”

* CEO of revenge, comedically evil.

#tiki writes #college!abby #au: jack!u #abby anderson blurb #abby anderson ff #Abby Anderson au

316 notes · View notes

aidaronan · 6 months

Note

64 for the spotify wrapped/steddie ficlet thing💕💕💕

So I guess I mixed up these two numbers and you should've gotten the Scary Kids song I used for this fill yesterday lmao So I'm actually giving you #24 because.. oops? At least I managed to actually do a ficlet this time. 64 24 Bad Omens - Death of Peace of Mind

You're in the Walls That I've Made

Tags & Warnings: Angst, spice, angst with a hopeful ending Memories come to him in dreams that won’t let go. Dreams of milky skin slick with sweat, of bodies moving together in the heat, in the cold, in every season between. Teeth sinking into skin, hands tangling in hair and tugging rough. When Eddie wakes up, he swears he can taste Steve on his lips, that he can smell his scent clinging to the pillows, that he can almost imagine that exact way he felt around him. Inside him. Beside him. Fuck, it haunts Eddie all these months later, that he had that hand in his and dared for a fucking second to let it go. But he did. Stumbling barefoot into the kitchen, he rewinds the tape in the answering machine propped up on a stack of unpacked boxes. He listens to the only saved messages. “So it’s about three in the morning and I can’t sleep,” Steve says, voice distorted by phone lines and countless replays. “I told you to go, and I love you and I… I want you to go is the thing. I want you to get out, and I want the whole world to know Eddie Munson can shred or whatever. I want you to be happy, fuck, Eds. I do. But…” There’s a long pause that drags on, filled only by dead air and the quiet mechanical sound of the reels spinning. “But I-” Then the beep of the message cutting off. Eddie counts the seconds before the next message starts. He could mouth along to every word now, match every little rise and fall in Steve’s voice. Every frantic syllable. “I don’t know how to… I want you to go, but I also want to nail your feet to the goddamned floor, you know? Eddie, I can’t. I can’t— ” Steve chokes on his words. “I guess it’s three in the morning so I can pretend it was sleep deprivation or whatever that made me say something so selfish right now but…” Another pause. Click, click, whir. An inhale Eddie can hear even on the tinny tape. When Steve says the last three words, his voice is raspy and soft and worn.

“But don’t go.” The tape beeps again. There’s nothing new after that. Then again, there wouldn’t be. Eddie hasn’t had the phone lines hooked up yet in house he’s been building, the house with room for two. He does have electric though, at least in the kitchen. Which means he can make coffee while he thinks about the dreams. And he can lean against the unpainted cabinets and sip the coffee during the small window he has before all the contractors show up. He can also let his hand slip into his pajama pants while he stares at the framing of a half-wall leading into the living room, can close his eyes and remember counting the beauty marks on Steve’s back while he plunged into him over and over again, while he held Steve’s hips and watched the sweat ruin his perfect hair. Fucking stupid. That’s always how Eddie feels after he comes. Fucking stupid that he left. Fucking stupid that he hasn’t called, that he hasn’t told Steve he haunts him like a ghost, that he’s building this house with walls that can hold him too. Eddie wipes himself clean with a kitchen towel and scrubs a hand over his face, feeling the scarring on his jawline—proof that he can be brave. He just wishes he could remember fucking how. He changes clothes and plays the messages again, unpacking one of the boxes, putting a slew of pictures into actual honest-to-God frames. There's a picture of Eddie and Corroded before they split—half to college, half to Cali to form a new band that would eventually get Eddie build-a-house money.

There's a nice prom night 8x10 of Eddie and Chrissy after Supergirl somehow literally pulled her back from the grave. There's the Hellfire Club too in all it's 1986 glory.

Eddie fills frame after frame with memories old and new. But he saves the big collage frame for last, saves all the pictures he’d bought it for so he can put off the way they'll make him feel, so he can savor them at the same time. Even holding them tastes bittersweet on the back of his tongue.

They're all Steve. Group shots, Polaroids, photo strips from the mall. Some are with the kids, some are with the girls or the whole crew. The one Eddie fits into the slot dead center though? That’s just the two of them, casual enough Eddie won’t have to pay off any of the construction crew, or so it looks anyway. Because as casual and just-friends as he and Steve seem to be in the photo, they'd had their hands in each others' pockets behind their backs, arms crisscrossed, skin warm where they'd touched. The tip of his thumb aching, Eddie finishes bending all the little metal tabs that hold on the back of the frame, realizing as soon as it's done that he’s put the whole damn thing back together upside-down. It startles a wet laugh out of him, breaking open an ache that has never left his chest.

An ache that spills and spills, bottomless, gnawing, maddening. It takes the sharp edges of his car keys digging into his palm for him to realize he’s grabbed them. It’s a mile or so to the nearest payphone. His tires squeal on the pavement. His brain squeals in his skull. Hands shaking, he drops half his change onto the concrete, but he knows the goddamned number by heart. He dials it perfectly.

Ring.

Ring. “Hello,” Steve says, and Eddie feels like he’s been punched in the gut. For several long seconds, he thinks he might not be able to talk after all, that he got this far only to fumble it in the end. His tongue feels two sizes to large. His throat too small.

"Hello?"

Eddie sucks in a breath and squeezes his eyes shut, summoning the Eddie who once faced the hoard, who chose to die and lived. Who chose to die and loved.

When he speaks, it feels like he's trying to use muscles he hasn't used in centuries, coaxing them back into motion so he can rasp out a single sound, swift as a spear slicing through the night: “Steve.”

#steddie #fanfic #mine #spotify wrapped but make it fics

45 notes · View notes

harringtown · 2 years

Text

the road not taken

this became much longer than I was planning so it took a while but!!! no joke i was plotting this fic and had a moment of ‘wait they storm into the road, literally the road not taken cuz its outside steve’s house’ and had to sit back for a second cuz I impressed my own damn self w that one. anyways I hope u enjoy anon!!!

requested by anonymous

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: au based on tis the damn season by Taylor Swift (aka the reader left Hawkins, and Steve, but the past is hard to run from, aka some second chance almost romance w a happy ending)

word count: 6.8k

Hawkins hasn’t changed much in eight months.

Last August, when you left—when you fled, if you’re being technical—the town was slipping into fall. Bare trees and chilly winds saw you off, but now, spring is poking its head up like the flowers sticking out of the concrete sidewalks.

The train station drops you at the far end of main street. Eight months ago, when you made this walk in the other direction, you kept your eyes down and your breath held, like Hawkins might get stuck in your lungs.

Now, you walk slowly, dragging your suitcase behind you, and sweep your gaze around a place you swore you wouldn’t come back to.

Time is funny like that. It couldn’t have predicted you coming home from college for spring break to surprise your family. But it probably couldn’t have predicted you running in the first place.

Starcourt’s destruction has rejuvenated the main square, and the once abandoned shops are back in full gear. Residents mill about in front of stores and restaurants, kids amble around the grass, cars pull by. Hawkins is alive again. After everything it, and everyone who lives here, have been through, it still always manages to bounce back.

You pass the diner, and the general store. The post office. The arcade, and the video store.

A familiar bike is chained up against one of the poles in front of the video store. Affection swells in your chest.

Robin.

You may have cut off Hawkins and Steve Harrington when you left, but you didn’t burn all your bridges. Not with Robin, or Nancy.

And if you’re going to survive this week, you’ll need more than your family to do it. You’ll need friends, and you don’t have a whole lot of those left here.

So, you head for the video store. The lot is full, probably arcade overflow, but none of the other vehicles are familiar.

You pull on the front door’s handle, a bell chiming inside, and in the half step you take, red flashes in your peripheral vision.

You’d know that car anywhere. And the only reason you missed it was because it’s parked on the side of the building.

A red BMW. You even remember the damn license plate number.

Your train of thought careens into a wall of curses, but the bell rang, you’re standing halfway in the store already, and there will be no escaping now. Not unless you literally sprint away like some scared kid.

Please, let him be on break. Or in the back. Or absolutely fucking anywhere else.

You take a breath and step all the way into the store, letting the door swing shut behind you.

“No way,” says a familiar, feminine voice, and you’ve barely clocked Robin behind the counter before she’s pushing around it and rushing you. “Are you actually here right now?”

You grin, and say, “I’m here,” a second before she hauls you into a tight hug. And you can barely breathe, but you don’t mind, because you’re squeezing her just as tight.

Robin pulls back, shaking her head. “Nancy and Jonathan bet five dollars you wouldn’t set foot in this town again, but I knew you’d be back.” She steps back, gesturing to the store around her, with its funky-patterned floor and peeling wallpaper. “I mean, who could resist the charm of our lovely town?”

“Charm is a word for it,” you say, and Robin laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“So,” she says. “How long do we get you for?” And her smile falters, just for a second, after the word we, like she considers correcting, and decides not to. You’re grateful to once again be around people who know what subjects to avoid. “Please tell me you dropped out of college.” Her nose scrunches. “And ignore how horrible that sounds.”

You snort. “Just here for the week. Unfortunately, I’m still enrolled.”

Robin breaks away from you to round the counter again, retaking her place, and you lean into the ledge across from her.

“I missed the hell out of you,” she says. “Seriously. It’s not the same without you. No one else gets my movie references or will agree to take me to the snow cone stand out in Rockwood.”

That familiar ache, the one that showed up when you got on the train last fall, pulses in your chest.

“I missed you, too.” You lean into the counter. “It’s nice out there, and the people are great, but there’s no Robin Buckley in Indianapolis, which makes it pretty much intolerable. And they don’t even have the Rockwood snow cone place.”

Robin grins, and she opens her mouth to speak, but a sharp inhale from the doorway to the back hall sucks the words out of her mouth.

It sucks all the air out of the room, too.

It’s as if you sense him before you see him. The knot in your chest pushes on your lungs, and it takes everything in you to control your expression as you meet his eyes.

Steve Harrington.

Eight months older, his hair a little longer. Grown into himself, a little more. The bruises and wounds he wore when you left him are nowhere to be found.

Your mouth falls open, though you’re not sure what you plan on saying. If you plan on saying anything at all.

What could you possibly say that would ever be enough?

He’s wearing a pair of light wash jeans and a deep navy Y-neck Henley, and he’s still frustratingly handsome, and he’s still your Steve. Which makes no sense, because he was never actually yours. That was the problem.

His eyes widen, just a bit, and a dozen emotions flicker across his face—shock and confusion and anger and hurt and more—before he shoves an invisible wall up between you. His lips pull into a thin line and his jaw tightens.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. Like it’s a nuisance. Like it’s an inconvenience.

You swallow the icy hurt. Two can play at that game.

“Renting a movie.” You jerk a chin at the aisles of films. “This is a video rental store.”

His brows twitch. He comes up beside Robin at the counter, leaning casually into the corner, and his show of false confidence isn’t lost on you. Eight months haven’t changed him that much. And you spent much longer memorizing him.

“Fine.” He shrugs a shoulder. “What are you doing in Hawkins?”

“My parents live here. Am I not allowed to visit?”

“You are,” Robin says, gaze flicking between you. “And we’re happy to see you. Even if we have a hard time showing it.”

Steve huffs. “Yeah. Happy.” He meets your eyes and lifts his brows. “So much for escape, I guess.”

You narrow your eyes, irritation prickling across your skin like needles, and you open your mouth to snap at him, but before you can, the bell dings over the door. A handful of teens who have just snuffed out a firecracker without even realizing it.

“I’ve got ‘em,” Robin says. To Steve, “And finish sorting those files, because if it’s not done by the time Keith gets in tomorrow, I swear, he’ll actually have an aneurysm, and I really don’t want to deal with it.”

Steve frowns, like he’s considering making a fuss, but in the end, he just tosses a look your way, and heads for the back of the store without another word.

And as much as you’d secretly been waiting for the moment you laid eyes on him again, you’re relieved to see him go.

Something you’d never admit to anyone, even Robin: on cold, lonely nights, you imagined coming home to Hawkins. Coming home to him. You imagined showing up at his doorstep and telling him you were sorry—telling him everything. And in your fantasies, he let you in with open arms.

But this is reality, and in reality, you didn’t make a clean break from this town. It’d be silly of you to expect to come back and find anything but scars.

It’s going to be hell cleaning the blood out of Steve’s seats, but he doesn’t comment on it as he, you, and Robin pile into the car. The blankets handed out by the EMT—which made no sense, because it’s July in Hawkins, and you survived a fire, not a winter storm—form half of a fourth person in Steve’s backseat.

Once Robin is dropped off, it’s just you and Steve in the front, and the tan blankets in the back. Steve drives away from her house, but he slows the car and parks it just down the road, next to a huge chunk of forest, safe from anyone who might be driving this time of night.

You don’t ask why he didn’t just drive you home. You don’t really want to go home.

The EMTs said dozens of people died in the fire that wasn’t a fire. Dozens. Your parents will have questions, and after a day being interrogated by Russian soldiers, you’re in no mood for it.

Steve drops his hands from the wheel.

“We almost died today,” you say softly. “Again.”

“But we didn’t.”

“But we could have.”

He lets out a rattling breath. A second passes, and his fingers slide across the bench seat to bump yours. Another second, and he places his hand atop yours. You flip your palm up, threading your fingers together and squeezing once.

Steve exhales again, but it’s relieved, not strained. Like your touch is pulling some of the horrible day out of his limbs.

“Yeah,” he says. “We could have.”

“How many times can we almost die before we—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Don’t even say that.”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Steve closes his eyes. When he opens them, he pulls his hand from yours. He doesn’t say anything, but somehow, that says enough.

With the promise to call Robin later, you slip out of the video store and into the warm, early evening. Your suitcase wheels rattle over the concrete. It’s not a short walk home, but you’re in no hurry, and after an hour of avoiding Steve, you’d walk ten miles if it got you out of that store.

It’s like the universe can read your thoughts. A beat later, red flashes in your peripheral, and a familiar BMW slows beside you where you hug the curb, almost to the parking lot exit.

Steve reaches over and rolls down the passenger window, a hand on the back of the headrest as he peers out at you.

“Are you walking home?” he asks.

“What does it look like?”

He gives you a patronizing look. For a second, he chews on the inside of his cheek. Dread coils in your stomach—whatever he’s gearing up to, it can’t be good.

With a sharp sigh, he says, “Get in the car.”

Your stomach tumbles. It takes more strength than you’d like to admit keeping your face even as you say, “No,” and continue walking.

Steve’s frustrated curse carries through the window, and he puts just enough gas on the Beemer to catch up to you before he slows down again.

“Get in the car, Y/N.”

“I said no.”

“For the love of—its two miles to your house.”

“I am aware of that, yes,” you say. You and your already worn sneakers are soon to be even more aware. Painfully aware. But that’s better than the alternative.

“You’re being ridiculous. You realize that, right? This is ridiculous,” Steve says.

You keep walking.

Another colorful curse comes from inside the car, and then, the tires skid as he jerks the car to the right, half up on the curb. A few feet to the right, and he’d have tagged you. Except, he wouldn’t, because it’s Steve, and his driving may be reckless, but it’s also impressive, and he knows it. And he knows that you know it.

Screw him for still knowing you. And for assuming you still know him.

He slams the car into park, snaps his head up, and says, “Get in the goddamn car, y/n.”

For a long second, you do nothing but gape at him.

“You almost hit me,” you say.

“No, I didn’t,” he says.

Another second to consider how long this walk will actually be.

Damn it and damn him.

You drag your suitcase toward his car, reaching for the back handle, but Steve is out of the driver’s seat and around the back bumper in a blink, popping open the door. It’s so frustratingly Steve that you can do nothing but toss your suitcase inside. He nudges the back door shut and opens the passenger side, but he doesn’t look at you as he does it. And you don’t look at him as you climb into the car.

Steve pushes the door shut. Hesitates. You see him take a deep breath and return to the driver’s side. He climbs back in, shuts the door harder than you think is necessary, and puts the car into reverse.

“What the hell was that about?” you snap as he pulls the car onto the road, heading toward your neighborhood.

“This is still Hawkins,” Steve says. “And I’m not about to let you wander around at night by yourself.”

“The Mind Flayer is dead,” you say. “Isn’t it?”

A muscle clicks in his jaw. His grip on the wheel tightens.

“Yeah. It’s dead.”

“But… ?”

He flicks a glance your way, like he’s surprised.

“But I have a bad feeling,” he says.

“Don’t you always.”

“Says the one who rode a bad feeling right out of town,” Steve retorts.

He’s right, and he also tends to be right when it comes to anything monster related. But those are sticky subjects, and you’re trying to avoid sticky subjects.

So, instead of taking the bait, you turn up the radio.

When no one is talking, it feels just like it used to. You lost count of the nights you spent in this very spot, driving to nowhere, Steve at the wheel.

And here you are again, in Steve Harrington’s car. Like you were always going to end up back here. Like you never left at all.

“I thought you told them no,” Steve says. He’s been slouched back on the couch for the better part of the afternoon, but the moment you broke the news, he straightened like a rod.

“I did,” you say. You can’t look at him, so you look at the shag carpet, counting the individual threads. “But I guess they saw the reports about the mall and figured having the survivor of such a tragedy at their school was a good look. So, they called and asked if I’d reconsidered. Offered more scholarship money, too.” You risk a glance his way. Every inch of him is rigid. “And I said yes.”

Steve pushes to his feet. The abrupt movement makes him wince and reach for his still-healing ribs.

“You’re leaving?” he asks.

“My move in date is August 21st,” you say. Steve twists to peer at the calendar hanging in your kitchen.

Today is August 7th.

Steve shakes his head and paces in front of the couch. On the settee across from him, you’re immobile, digging your nails into your palms.

“Two weeks ago, the plan was to take classes at the community college this fall and save up,” he says. “What happened to waiting for Robin to graduate? Getting some shitty apartment for the three of us in Indianapolis?” He fixes his stare on you. “What changed?”

You let out a rattling breath. You’ve been planning out this speech since you accepted a spot at the university, but now that it’s here, all the words are out of reach.

“I have to get out of here, Steve,” you say. “If I don’t go now, while I still can, I don’t think I’ll ever escape it.”

“Escape what?”

All of it. The monsters and the tombstones and the empty seats in every cafeteria or arena. The ghosts. The loss. The pain.

And him. You’d be lying if you said part of your reason for going wasn’t him.

Him, and everything you’ve spent so much time wishing you could be—everything you will clearly never be. And regardless of whoever’s fault that is, it has to end with you.

But you can’t tell him that. The fact that you can’t is only another reason to go.

“I just…” You rake a hand through your hair. “I just have this feeling that if I don’t get out of this town, it’s going to kill me.”

Or you’re going to kill me, Steve Harrington, and you won't even know you pulled the trigger.

Steve’s lips form the inevitable beginning of a protest, but you don’t give him the chance.

“Look at me, Steve,” you say, lifting your arms and gesturing to yourself. Coated in bruises and scabs, bandaged and bound. “Look at me and tell me that if I stay, you can guarantee it’ll never get any worse than this.”

He hesitates. And you know he’s thinking about being down in that base, you and Steve and Robin being beaten to bloody pulps—about how you barely made it through this alive.

“The Mind Flayer is dead. It’s over. There’s nothing to run from,” Steve says. And you wish like hell that was true.

“It’s been over before. And then it wasn’t.”

He shakes his head. “Even if it does come back, you’re really okay with just… leaving? Ditching us?”

“I’m not… ditching anyone,” you say, which is definitely a lie. “It’s college. I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.” Another lie.

“Bullshit,” Steve says. “You’re running.”

And he’s right. And you are. Add it to the list of things you won’t admit to Steve Harrington. Already, the list is miles long. What’s another bullet point?

Your driveway is empty. Steve says nothing as he pulls his car up to the curb and puts it in park, but you know what he’s thinking.

There’s always at least one car in the driveway.

He doesn’t say anything as he gets out of the car with you, either, and you’re grateful. You don’t have the guts to ask him to come inside with you. Even if it’s probably nothing, in this town, it could be something. And somethingwas always a lot less scary with Steve at your side.

As you fish your house keys out of your bag, Steve waits at your back, hands in his pockets, humming absently.

He’s nervous. Whether it’s about the empty house or something else, you’re not sure.

You unlock the front door and nudge it open, stepping into the foyer. Steve is close behind, trailing you all the way into the kitchen.

The calendar hanging next to the cabinets pulls your attention.

March 19th to March 26th is highlighted, and BLOOMINGTON is scrawled in your mother’s handwriting.

Shit.

Of course, the one time you try to do something nice and surprise your family after avoiding this town like the plague for almost a year, it’s the week they’re out of town visiting your grandparents.

“Shit,” Steve says, right at your shoulder. You jump, not having heard him approach. He takes two steps back.

Shame burns under your skin. You clear your throat.

“I wanted to surprise them. My parents were so bummed when I didn’t come home for Thanksgiving, or Christmas,” you say.

“Yeah, well, they weren’t the only ones,” Steve says. The dark, empty house only makes his sarcasm drip thicker. “I think you took the surprise thing a bit too far.”

“You really don’t have to rub it in.”

He pouts. “I think I’ve earned the right.”

“You didn’t earn anything,” you snap. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

His eyes go wide, confused and frustrated all at once. “Wait, what—”

“Thanks for the ride,” you say. “But you should probably get going.”

He folds his arms over his chest. “You’re not seriously going to stay here by yourself.”

“I can survive a week in my own house, Steve. And your bad vibes, or whatever, aren’t exactly worthy of me forking over the cash to change my train ticket back. Besides, the next train isn’t until tomorrow. Whether you like it or not, I’m staying in Hawkins tonight.”

“Is your pride worth dying over?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you snap. “And if it’s that big of a deal, I can just stay with Robin.”

Steve snorts. “Where, on her bedroom floor? She’s got four sisters. There’s not a spare square foot in that house.”

You scrunch your nose. Stare at him for a long minute.

“You’re not suggesting—”

“My house.”

“Not a chance.”

He scoffs and says, “What, worried you can’t resist jumping my bones the second the lights go out?”

“If I’m jumping your bones, Harrington, it’s to lock my fingers around your throat.”

Steve’s lips turn up in a lopsided grin, and he bats his eyes.

“Is that a promise?”

You exhale sharply, letting out a curse.

“You’re sleeping on the couch,” you say, jabbing a finger at him.

“Obviously,” he says, and he looks bored as he does, which means he’s anything but.

Harriet Williams’ going away party falls three days before your own departure, and though neither of you are in the party mood, Robin drags you and Steve there, anyway, with the promise of shitty mixed drinks and even shittier music.

And it’s better than sitting in your room thinking, so you agree.

Four cups of whatever concoction is in the kitchen later, you’re glad you came. The house is too full of people, and it’s much too hot, much too loud, and every surface is sticky, but you don’t care. You’re dancing with Steve, and you’re too drunk to feel guilty, and he’s too drunk to be angry at you.

It happens in the silence between songs—no more than five seconds. But it happens. Your lips meet his, and his fingers curl into your waist, and he tastes like cheap tequila and orange juice.

And then he shifts away. And you’re dancing again. And the next day, either Steve doesn’t remember, or he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t bring it up.

That night, that moment, gets caught in the wind and drifts away.

Steve’s house isn’t deserted. His parents are home, along with his aunt and younger cousins, which means he really will be sleeping on the couch, and not in one of the guest rooms. You’ve only seen his house this full a few times in your life, and it’s almost odd. To tiptoe through his halls instead of just walking.

But even with the packed house, it all feels so normal. Like you’ve slipped back into some ancient orbit.

Steve sets you up in his room, only leaving to change into a pair of sweats and a tee shirt you and Robin bought him as a joke. Two sizes too big, with a massive eagle spread across the marbled blue fabric, it is undeniably horrendous, but he’s wearing it. And from the looks of the worn fabric, it isn’t the first time.

He doesn’t say much before he heads downstairs. As if he’s afraid speaking will break this tenuous peace you’ve found in the silence.

You’ve both been walking in a memory since leaving your house. You don’t want to step out of it, either. Not yet.

It takes you ten minutes of pacing before you gather the courage to get into the bed. He isn’t even in it, but it’s Steve’s bed. You’ve slept in it a handful of times, mostly after parties in high school, but somehow, it’s more intimate without him in it.

You turn out the lamp and slide under the covers, and you can feel the slightest groove in the mattress formed by years of him sleeping in the same spot.

His scent envelopes you in a second blanket, and tears well in your eyes before you can stop them. You squeeze your eyes shut against them, but one escapes, trailing down your cheek and onto the pillow.

It’s another ten minutes before you can open your eyes without the threat of tears. Thirty more tossing and turning and thinking.

Then, the knob turns on the door. Panic leaps into your throat—it still does, even two hundred miles away at school—and you jerk into a sitting position.

Steve leans into the doorway, his lips pressed together. Seeing you’re awake, he slips inside, closing the door behind him.

“To the shock of nobody, my dad got booted from he and my mom’s room. I’d rather sleep on the floor here than have a shame sleepover with my father in the living room,” he says. He clears his throat. “If that’s cool.”

“Yeah,” you say, and it comes out as more of a squeak. You try again. “Of course.”

“Thanks,” Steve says.

“It is your bedroom,” you say. A smile drifts over his lips, but it’s gone as fast as it comes. He heads for his closet, opening the doors and kneeling to dig out a pile of folded blankets from the back.

“Steve.”

He stills. “Yeah?”

The words are out of your mouth too quick for you to stop them. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

Now he’s really frozen. “What, are you volunteering to swap?”

Your laugh is thin and hollow. It doesn’t even sound like your voice as you say, “Just get in the bed before I change my mind.”

He stands. Turns your way. Looks at you for a long moment, likely trying to decide whether you’re serious. Eventually, he crosses the room, leaving the blankets behind.

You scooch to the side, toward the wall, so he has room. The moonlight streaming in through the window flashes over his clenched jaw.

He climbs into the bed beside you, the mattress sinking just a bit with the added weight.

“Thanks,” he says for the second time since entering the room.

“You’re welcome,” you say, even though it’s his bed in the first place.

Silence hangs in the air, fluttering like sheets on a line, and you lay in wait, praying Steve will fall asleep so you can relax.

But he doesn’t. Instead, you lay side by side, flat on your backs, hands folded over both your stomachs, like matching Victorian children in some twisted double funeral.

Steve whispers your name.

“Hmm?”

“Are you awake?”

“No.”

A pause.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks.

“Can I stop you?”

He laughs softly, but it dies out halfway through.

“Why didn’t you call?”

Your stomach drops.

“Steve—“

“You and me, we used to talk about just taking off and leaving everything behind,” Steve says softly, “but I never actually thought you’d do it.” He shakes his head. “Or I figured you’d at least take me with you. Stupid of me, I guess.”

“Steve—” You say again, as if it’ll make up for what you’ve done.

“Just tell me why,” he says. “Tell me what the hell I did to you, to piss you off so much.”

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he says.

“You can’t honestly tell me that you didn’t know how I felt about you,” you say, without meaning to. The subsequent silence is thicker than the first.

“I…” He trails off.

“Yeah,” you say. “That’s what I thought.”

“I was an idiot,” he says, and it’s as if he’s talking to himself, not to you.

“I know,” you say. “Which time are you talking about?”

He laughs, but it’s a little sad. He hesitates a moment before he speaks again.

“The day you left…” He pauses. Like he’s trying to organize his words. “The second you left my house after saying goodbye, I felt this pit in my stomach, and I realized it wasn’t new. It’d been there a long time. And it just kept getting worse.” He laces his hands behind his head. “I actually called Robin, at like, midnight that night, told her I thought I was dying, and she just said, ‘You’re not dying, dingus, your heart is broken.’” Another long pause follows. “I don’t even think I realized until right then that I—” He stops. He always stops.

Or you do. But you always end up here, a foot from the finish line, neither of you brave enough to cross it.

And you’re not sure what to say to all that, or what it means, so you just say his name again, softly, almost a plea.

“You know, I wasn’t mad at you for leaving Hawkins,” he goes on. “I mean, I’d have to be a complete and total asshole to be angry that my best friend got a killer scholarship to a college far the hell away from this place.”

“You seemed pretty angry,” you say.

“Yeah, well, I was angry, but I wasn’t angry about that. I was pissed that you ditched me, like we didn’t spend ten years surviving this town together.” In your peripheral vision, his chest rises and falls rapidly, like he’s angry or nervous or some combination. “Like none of it mattered.”

“It all mattered,” you say, fiercer than you intend. “That was why I had to go.”

“What?” He’s looking at you now, and you force yourself to meet his eyes. You’ve braved scarier creatures than the truth.

“I told you that I left Hawkins because I had to get away from the monsters. And that was mostly true. But I wasn’t just running from monsters. I was running from you.”

His mouth opens, and abruptly shuts.

“I spent ten years loving you, Steve. Ten years waiting for you to figure it out, or do something, but you never did, and I… I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Couldn’t do what?”

“Pretend not to,” you say. “Pretend that you did. Pretend that one day you could. I don’t know. All I know is that every time you called me and asked me for help, I dropped everything and came running. I couldn’t keep dropping everything for someone who didn’t even want to carry it in the first place.”

He chews on his cheek for a beat, and now, he’s the one avoiding your gaze.

“When we were younger, I thought that maybe you—” He lets out a sigh. “But then we got older, and it seemed like you didn’t anymore, and then we got to high school, and Eleven ripped open a hole to another universe, and then you were gone. I mean, I waited weeks for you to call. Told myself you just hadn’t set up your new number yet.”

He’s circling his own admission like a shark around chum, and you’ve known him long enough to see that, but the gap in time has robbed you of the ability to tell what it is.

“I got it wrong,” you say. “I got scared, and I didn’t know what to do, and it was like… like I couldn’t even think. I just had to run. But I was wrong. I was wrong, and I should have just come to you, told you what I felt, but I didn’t.” You roll onto your side to face him. “But what would it have changed, anyway?”

He mirrors your position.

“Everything,” he says. “Something. I don’t know. I don’t know because you never said anything.” He inhales. “But I never said anything, either.”

Shock renders you silent. Steve catches your gaze, and immediately looks away.

“You know, sometimes, I wonder what it’d have been like if we did things the right way. I think maybe it could have worked out, if I met you in Biology class and not on some battlefield.”

Your stomach churns. “And by it…?”

“I mean us,” he says. Shakes his head. “But we didn’t meet in Biology. And we sure as hell didn’t do things the right way. We—I—royally fucked it up, actually. I know it’s too late to mean anything, but I’ll never stop being sorry for everything that went wrong with you. ”

Some of your anger softens, revealing what lies beneath it—sadness. Because you’re not really angry at Steve, not the way he or you would think. Because you were young and stupid, and you still are, in a lot of ways. Because sometimes you can be angry just because.

“It wasn’t all your fault,” you say. “We were just kids. We were already dealing with… well, not the end of the world, but pretty close to it. And it’s not like I can be mad at you for… for anything, after what I did.”

“Still,” Steve says.

“Yeah,” you say. “Still.”

Because what more is there? You fucked up, or he did, or you both did, and now, here you are, on the other side of the wreckage. And you’re not sure whether or not it's salvageable. If you even want it to be.

“Promise you’ll call,” Steve says, his voice muffled by your hair. He pulls back, and his expression is sincere, so Steve it hurts to look at. “Promise you won’t forget about me.”

Tears well in your eyes, but you don’t force them away. Instead, you let them fall and hope that Steve believes them as something different than they are. And you tell him, “I promise,” even though you’ve already made yourself a very different promise.

To leave Steve Harrington and Hawkins behind.

He pulls you in for another hug, this one tighter than the last, and when you pull back, neither of you moves back all the way, and your forehead finds his, and your noses bump, and you can almost taste the kiss, and—

Steve shifts away.

Your eyes snap open in time to see his Adam's apple bob. You clear your throat and extricate yourself from his arms.

“I gotta go,” you say. “I have a train to catch.”

Steve’s lips part.

You want him to ask you to stay. You want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything.

But he doesn’t. So you don’t.

You wake up to the soft, steady rhythm of a heartbeat and a warm arm slung loosely over your waist. Before you open your eyes, your brain registers the scent as Steve, and though it should be surprising to wake up like this, for some reason, it doesn’t feel weird.

And when he opens his eyes, when he sees you, he acts like it isn’t weird, either.

“Tell me about school,” Steve says, as if you’ve done this a hundred times, in this very spot, with his hand on your hip. “Do you like it? Do you live in a dorm with, like, five roommates?”

A smile pulls on your lips. You’re not sure what magic spell you’ve both stumbled into, but for the moment, you don’t want to break it. To be honest, you’re not entirely sure you’re awake.

So, you tell him. You tell him about your classes, and about the friends you’ve made, and about your roommates, of which there are two, not five, who are actually very nice. All the time you talk, he doesn’t pull his arm away from you, and you don’t pull back.

It feels like everything it could have been.

Then, he asks you another question.

“Are you happy?”

And you hesitate.

“I’m… getting there,” you say. “But nobody there knows me like Hawkins does—” You lift your eyes to his, and you know he’s thinking the same thing you are. Nobody knows me like you do. “—and I’m worried that they never will.”

Steve stills. Shifts back, taking his arm with him and leaving cold in its absence. You’re not even sure what you said to make him move back, or if the magic spell just broke.

He sits up, and the marbled shirt has ridden halfway up his back, revealing a stretch of tan, scarred skin.

“You know why that is, don’t you?” he asks. He turns his face just enough for you to see his profile, jaw clenched and brows furrowed.

It’s your turn to sit up.

“What are you trying to say?”

He shifts all the way toward you. “I’m saying, there’s a reason you weren’t happy in Hawkins, and there’s a reason you aren’t happy in Indianapolis.” You haven’t heard him talk like this in a long time, since high school, but unlike high school, he doesn’t sound mean. It’s just that confidence, but now, it’s real. “I played my part in what happened with us, or didn’t happen, or whatever, but it takes two to tango.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He presses his lips together.

“The day you left, if I had asked you to stay in Hawkins, what would you have said?” he asks.

“I—” The words evaporate on your tongue. You would have what? Would you have stayed? Was the version of you that dropped everything and fled even ready to be asked that question, let alone answer it?

“You don’t let anybody get close enough to love you,” he says. “And I’m sorry I didn’t try hard enough, but you can’t say it was just me, or just us being dumb kids. And you sure as hell can’t outrun that. ” He inhales sharply, but the words are out, and there is no taking them back.

You throw the covers off and climb out of his bed, jamming your feet into your sneakers and grabbing the first hoodie you see off the top of your suitcase.

“Screw you, Harrington,” you snap.

“Wait—” Steve scrambles out of bed behind you, but you don’t wait to hear the rest of what he has to say.

You push through his door and into the hall, storming down the hall and the stairs, ignoring the chatter coming from the kitchen and Steve’s family, out the front door into a literal storm.

Thunder cracks over your head, and the rain falls in cold sheets, but you’d rather walk through the storm than stay a minute longer. You trudge down the porch and the driveway, Steve’s words ringing in your ears.

You sure as hell can’t outrun that.

You come to a stop in the middle of the pot-holed lined street in front of the Harrington house. Running. That’s exactly what you’re doing. Again.

The front door swings open, and Steve runs down the porch, wearing just his sweats, horrible animal shirt, and an untied pair of sneakers. Panic lines his face until his eyes find yours, and he relaxes, just for a second, before his expression twists again.

He jogs into the road, just off the curb.

“Steve, I’m not—”

“No,” Steve says. “Wait. I need to say something. It’s something I should have said a long time ago.” He swipes the hair and water out of his eyes, closing the distance between you, until you’re barely a foot apart. His chest heaves.

“Eight months ago, when you told me you were leaving, I should have asked you to stay. And every day for eight months, I’ve regretted it. So, I’m asking you now. Please, stay.” He licks his lips, and you get caught on the droplets of rain lining his mouth. “I mean, don’t drop out of college, because that’d be crazy, but… you know what I mean.” He shakes his head. “I’ve been in love with you since we were fourteen, and I should have told you a lot longer than eight months ago, but I—“

It should take more than that, but you’ve been waiting longer than eight months to hear it, and you’re moving before you consciously decide to.

You press your lips to his, and his mouth parts under yours, and he tastes like rain and a little like morning breath, but you don’t care. You wrap your arms around his neck, and his wind around your waist, and you’re pressed so close together that even the rain can’t get through.

When Steve pulls back, his pupils blown and his breathing uneven, he just dips his forehead against yours, never releasing you from his arms.

“I know we always talked about Indianapolis,” you whisper. “But do you think Robin might be willing to move to Indianapolis instead? I can move off campus next year.”

Steve shifts away, eyes snapping open, a wide smile spreading across his face. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and says, “I think she could be convinced.”

“And you?”

“I’m all yours,” he says. “If you’ll have me.”

You smile, and lean in to kiss him again. And though it took you a while to get back to it, the road you almost didn’t take looks pretty good now.

taglist: @milkiane @spideyboipete @robiin-buckley @robinbuckleyssgf @la-fille-en-aiguilles @sunlitide @cityofidek

#brooke writes fic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things imagine #x reader

653 notes · View notes