#these are things they leave unsaid; these are things they know without saying

[slytherinobsessed]

we can't be friends | draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x reader | genre: friends to lovers | warning: angst, minors dni | word count: 1.9k | stefy's note: this my first ever fic of draco cause man I DO HAVE A THING FOR VILLANS, so enjoy :)

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

Words had always been left unsaid between Draco and you. One night in Fifth Year, he figured if he told you he had a small crush on you, he could get over it. He just didn’t expect you to say you had one back. Or for him to kiss you, and you kiss him back. It made his world crumble before his eyes.

Yet, he made you promise that was a one time thing, and he himself would want to stay friends and act like nothing happened. Which, worked, but he found himself only confiding in you for things.

As usual you were laying on the bed, at your dorm, reading without checkinh the clock. In the same time you were worried about Draco and everything that he has been dealing with lately.

There was a quiet knock at your dorm room door. Your dormmates never knocked. A bit of a pause. A knock again. That was definitely Draco's hand. He was knocking quietly, trying not to startle you. No doubt he wasn't really allowed to be there, but his mind and heart wouldn't allow him to walk away. He needed you, and right now he needed you in a way that he would never admit.

Getting up, closing the block and leaving it aside you. That's when you go to open the door, knowing that it might be Draco.

He was standing there in the dim moonlight, shadows obscuring his face. With his usual, perfect posture, arms crossed, the shadows made him look all the more intimidating. He could sense your presence before he ever saw you, but he was surprised by how soft your footsteps were as you walked down the room. Not a single noise was made that wasn't from his breath or his heartbeat. He looked...different. More vulnerable than usual, almost nervous but still his usual self.

"Is everything ok?" You look at him curiously, worried about what happened. "Did something happen?"

He wasn't expecting you to open the door so quickly in reply. His heart skipped a beat, and his gaze was now glued to you. He was trying his best to keep his voice calm and steady, although he was shaking slightly, and it was pretty clear as to why. When he spoke, he cleared his throat, his tone of voice was as stiff as his body language, his hands in his pockets as usual. "Yes. I just needed to talk to you. May...? May I come in?"

"Sure, come in." You say while moving aside for him to enter the room. Still being confused and worried about what might have happened at this hour.

The door closed behind him, and in the room were now just the two of you. Without taking out his hands from his pockets, he started speaking once more. Again, his voice was as cold and stiff as his demeanor. However, for a small moment, he felt himself relax as he glanced down to the ground. He noticed that you were looking a little tired and a bit confused, but he pushed that aside. "Right...can I sit?"

"Sure." You say, taking a seat next to him ans being prepare to listen to what he has to say.

His heart was beating faster. He could almost feel it. His entire body was trembling now, but he was trying his best to hide his nerves. His breath was quickening, and he wanted to keep his hands steady, but they were shaking. Still...he did not hesitate to take a seat next to you. He then spoke, his voice still as stiff and cold as before, only this time there was a slight...shake. His eyes were fixed on the ground, trying to look anywhere but at you.

That's when you took his face in your hands, making him look at you. "Draco...talk to me...what is it?"

He freezes for a moment. The sound of his breathing suddenly quickened. Your touch was sending shivers down his spine, but he was trying to hide it as much as possible. He swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced up at you. Those familiar blue-grey eyes gazing back at him, the touch of your hands almost calming him. A few moments passed. "Can I ask you something..?"

"Yes" You nod, looking at him and still holding his face in your hands.

He swallows the massive lump in his throat again, his voice shaky and low but his eyes never leaving yours. You had a good heart, he knew that, and he knew that he did trust you. Still...what he was about to ask was completely and utterly irrational. His stomach was in knots from his nerves. You must've known he was nervous, because normally he never was around you. He wanted to say so many things, but all he could manage was a single question. "Can I stay here tonight..?"

"Of course." You smile looking at him. "I'll have to get you a blanket and a pillow or if you don't mind..." You feel your words trail off. "You can stay with me...i mean in my bed."

His heart felt like it was about to explode from its chest. He was trying to stop himself from smirking. He was about to agree to something completely insane. And he was completely and utterly aware of it. Yet when you spoke, the words came crashing down on him. The words that were not even a second ago the last thing he thought you would offer him. "...are you sure...? You don't mind..?"

"If you manage to keep your side of the bed, there shouldn't be any problem." You say giggling a bit, trying to lighten up the mood.

He couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Your joking manner was certainly helping him calm down, even if it was just by a bit. Still, the fact that he was allowed back into your bed made his heart beat faster again. And the thought of you and him being right next to each other all night long. "Trust me, I won't complain. At all."

"Well let's get you to bed." You say as you get up. "Before Spane starts to see that we are past curefew." You say laughing a bit, still trying to lighten up the mood.

He chuckled slightly, his laugh being just a bit more genuine than before. He got up and looked up at you, now his entire face was more...expressive than usual. "Aye, yes...I imagine he would be pretty pissed after a certain hour. I would hate for you to be punished just for me."

"That won't happen." You said smiling and looked at him, taking a deep breath. "And even if it happens we can always use our wands."

He laughed again, although the laughter was now even more sincere. The fact that you weren't afraid to break a few rules was something he had always appreciated about you before. He then smirked, he could do with a little rule-breaking that night if it meant spending time with you. "Right...I forgot. A lot of things can be dealt with a few spells and magic. Especially with our wands. But...we should still be careful about things, right..?"

The two of you were sharing a bed, with a pillow between the two of you, keeping your or him from making any moves. Your back was facing him, as you were dressed in yout casual nightgown. Keeping your eyes closed was the only mechanism from you to try the ignore the closeness you were in.

The two of you were lying there, a thick blanket covering the both of you, while a thin pillow kept you as separate as possible. To be honest, he was trying as hard as possible not to touch you or get close to you in any way whatsoever. He was trying to stay calm, relax, and try not to do something so utterly insane and reckless. Yet your closeness alone was driving him crazy, let alone the fact that you were right next to him. It would take a lot of willpower to keep his hands to himself.

You turn around to talk to him, but all you manage to say is. "Draco..." You whispered, hoping not to wake him up.

He froze in his spot, as still as a statue. His heart had nearly stopped beating as soon as he heard your voice. He knew that you were still awake, as he was still awake as well. He hadn't fallen to sleep or dozed off at all. His eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling. His breath had quickened slightly. He wanted to speak, but the sound of his voice would give away how nervous he was. All he managed was a whisper back. Your name. "Yes..?"

"Why are you here?" You whisper back to him. "And i know it's not because you came here to sleep..." You added coming closer to him, keeping yourself from touching him.

He felt you move closer to him. His entire body was trembling now, and his blood was coursing through his veins. Was he really doing this? Of course, he was doing this, he couldn't back out of this now. Your question could be heard loud and clear. He swallowed again, his voice shaky and weak. "I...I didn't want to be alone tonight...and to be perfectly honest...I felt like I needed...well..."

"What is it?" You asked coming closer to him, touching his face and caressing his cheek lightly.

His breath hitched as you touched his cheek. He was trying so hard not to break his own rule. He was trying so hard not to lean towards you. The warmth of your hand on his face sent shivers down his spine. He swallowed again, his throat still tight. "Tonight...I felt like I needed...you...and only you..."

"I'm here." That's when you forget about all the rules that the two of you had in mind. Moving the pillow from between both of you, you come closer to him.

All caution and self-restraint was thrown out the window as soon as you grabbed the pillow and tossed it out. He could feel his heartbeat getting louder with each step, and it was clear as day that this was the last point of no return. No matter what happened now, it would change things completely. You didn't have any rules in mind anymore. Neither did he. You were just a few centimeters away, close enough where you could kiss him. Too close. His hand reached up to touch your face, gently.

You leaned into his touch closing your eyes and started breathing heavily as the two of you were so close to each other. His entire body was shaking when you leaned into his hand. When you closed your eyes, it was that moment he was waiting for. He reached the other hand under your chin and slowly, but firmly drew you towards him. His eyes never left yours as he made you lean in closer to him. The distance between the two of you was now...millimeters until your lips met.

© SLYTHERINOBSESSED — do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

#Spotify #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x female reader #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin x reader #slytherin imagine #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco x female reader

[dustykneed]

"I love you so much I would hold you in my heart for ever and ever."

"I believe I will always learn to love you."

#these are things they leave unsaid; these are things they know without saying #spones #spones fanart #star trek #star trek fanart #tos #star trek tos #star trek the original series #leonard mccoy #spock #bones mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #s'chn t'gai spock #the search for spock #deep in my spones (mcspirk) feels tonight everypony #fair (the amazing devil) is so sponescore. #dust writes #old married spones (mcspirk) my beloved

[mcflymemes]

"TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON" PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue for demanding answers, adjust as necessary

say it again, slower this time.

i don't have much time to explain, but i'll try.

you need to tell me what's going on.

i can't help you if i don't know what's happening.

you said something earlier, but i think i missed it.

i'm not hiding anything. i'm just trying to protect you.

what were you trying to say to me?

there must be more to the story than this.

you're not telling me the full story. you're leaving things out.

why do you have to be so secretive about this?

i wish i could tell you the truth. i really do.

why can't we discuss this now?

what's preventing you from telling me the truth?

you know what happened, yet you're just going to keep it from me.

don't i have a right to know?

i'll never forgive you if you keep this from me.

you're just going to have to find out for yourself.

don't leave me in the dark.

since you don't want to tell me, you leave me no choice.

i want you to talk to me, tell me what happened.

i don't like it when you're evasive.

you're hiding something.

all right, i'll tell you what i know.

you have to promise to take this with a grain of salt.

if i could tell you the truth, i would.

some things are better left unsaid.

you wouldn't believe me if i told you.

i don't know the truth.

i can't remember what they told me.

the last time i tried to explain it, you laughed in my face.

there's no getting through to you, is there?

tell me what's happening. tell me what's going on.

i can't do anything without your information.

you're the only one who knows how to fix this.

there's always something more, isn't there?

what else did they tell you?

what did they whisper to you when you were leaving?

you're keeping something from me.

you've never been a good liar.

look into my eyes and tell me the truth.

i wish you would just be honest with me.

something happened, and i'm going to get to the bottom of it.

if you won't tell me, i'll find someone who will.

that doesn't help me, you know.

you could try to be a little more helpful.

you never answered my question.

were you ever going to tell me the truth?

i'd like you to be honest for once in your life.

if you really loved me, you'd tell me what happened.

i won't judge you. i just need to know what happened.

just let me warn you... you're not going to like what you hear.

#mcflymemes #dramatic prompts #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask memes #ask meme #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters #mine

[flowercrowngods]

based on this post, because at this point i think it's safe to say @unclewaynemunson is actually my muse or something (hi anna i hope this is okay even though it’s, like, way angsty and way too long huh)

🤍 also on ao3

Two days after Starcourt, concussed and beaten, Steve has a seizure.

His ears are still ringing when the doctor gives him a stern glance over the rim of his glasses and pronounces him unfit to drive. No, in fact, he claims Steve poses a real danger to himself and others if he sat behind a wheel again.

Immediately, Dustin and Robin jump to promising that they won't let him do that, and in another life Steve is sure he would be grateful, or at least reasonable about it, but in this one he has a horrible second where the floor falls out from under him and he wishes, for just one second, that his head had been shaken a bit more, just enough to–

It makes him nauseous even thinking that. Everything does, lately. He closes his eyes against the offensive brightness of the hospital room and lets the sound of Dustin's and Robin's voices wash over him as he takes a moment to really take in what the doctor's orders entail.

He can't drive anymore. No more late night drives to watch the street lights pass and lull him into a safer state of mind than his bedroom walls could. No more driving the kids to their DnD sessions, no more taking Robin anywhere at the drop of a hat, no more bickering, no more reign over the music, no more stern glances through the rearview mirror, no more "Shut up, Wheeler, or you're leaving the car."

No more "Thanks, Steve!", no more "I'll bring some of mom's cookies if you drive us to the arcade", no more "You're the best" or "You're a lifesaver" or "I owe you one".

No more place for him in the group, no more use for him, no more...

No more. Nothing. Now he's just Steve, would-be lifesaver, 'has-been babysitter', 'could-have-been somebody until he lost his license to drive because he wasn't quick enough, wasn't good enough, wasn't strong enough'. Just Steve.

He doesn't know how to be that. Who is Steve Harrington without his car, without the one thing he was good for anymore?

The pit in his chest is deep enough, dark enough to pull him in, and for a moment the very thing he is good for is misery.

He waits until a nurse makes everyone leave for the night, and then he cries. It makes his head hurt, pressure building behind his eyes, but he's used to being in more pain than any teenager should be in, so he curls in on himself and hides underneath the blanket.

Here's to hoping the others won't notice just how useless he is now. Not too soon, anyway. He wants another month. A painless month filled with laughter and hugs, and then they're free to leave, to pull back slowly. Calls unanswered, radio channels changed so he won't reach them, sheepish apologies and rain checks, because now Nancy will drive them. Or Jonathan. Hell, maybe Max will take the risk just to avoid him.

---

He gets a week of daily visits in the hospital, the doctors and nurses insisting on keeping him here, a watchful eye on his vitals, scanning his head three times during his stay, insisting he has head trauma of a severely worrying degree.

Nancy picks him up from the hospital and it's awkward, tense, too much left unsaid between them but there's no one else to do it. Steve's hands are shaking, gripping the seatbelt the whole way home – and then his heart falls when he sees his Beemer in the driveway. The glorious, trusty, wonderful, best fucking car anyone could wish for. His baby. His.

He throw up into the brushes when he realises that he won't get to take it on one last ride. Maybe he shouldn't be so attached to a car. Maybe he's being pathetic about it. At least he can explain away the fat tears in his eyes now, and Nancy doesn't press.

The first thing he does when Nancy is gone is calling Robin, and she's excited when she says, "I'll come right over!" and Steve wants to ask, how, but he keeps his mouth shut, biting his lip. It's stupid, but the thought of someone else driving Robin over makes his skin crawl.

"Alright," he says instead, his voice raspy, and he hangs up before she can detect something in his voice.

After that, he goes outside again and runs his hand along his Beemer. It's shining in the sun; he had it cleaned the other week, the full program, every step in the book to celebrate four years since he got her.

"Four years, huh," Steve says, his nail catching on a minor scratch that isn't even visible but might be more familiar to him than even his home. "Damn good four years."

He's talking to his car. God, it's so stupid, it's so stupid, it's so stupid–

Steve's knees give out and he gives in to the desire that's burning under his skin sometimes, the desire to just sit down and ignore the world. Because everything is less real when you're sitting down somewhere you're not meant to be, and the ground is warm, and Steve just wants the world to go. His head is leaning back against the warm metal of the driver's door, and he closes his eyes for a while, his head still spinning, his ears still ringing, everything still awful.

After a while, there’s a shadow followed by a weight settling down between him, a head landing on his shoulder, a hand taking his.

"I'm so sorry, Stevie," Robin says. The lack of dingus makes it more real, somehow. More tragic. More pathetic.

"I'll live." And it feels a bit like a lie.

---

He gets his month. A month filled with barbecues in his backyard, the kids coming by after school to check on him, and Robin has practically moved in. Joyce picks him up on Friday nights for dinner at their house for a change of scenery.

It’s a good month, though Steve feels trapped. Caged. A bird without his wings, a boy without his car. Steve without his one purpose, the one thing he was good for. He has to be picked up because they don’t trust him walking, or they have to come to his place. And soon the worried glances that are thrown his way are too much, caging him further, reminding him of what this is. A pity party — quite literally. No one trusts him anymore, there’s always someone jumping to help him, not caring or listening to his protests.

And he can’t leave, because “What if you have a seizure in your room?”

It makes him want to scream.

Maybe it shows, or maybe everyone’s just fed up with him now that he can’t provide his taxi services anymore, but after summer the Byers dinners stop and the kids pull away.

“Told you that’s all I’m good for,” Steve says with a mean, pained huff as he hangs up the phone. Claudia said Dustin isn’t home, but he could hear the kids in the background. It hurts more than it should.

“What is?” Robin asks from her place on the floor with her back against the wall.

“Nothing.”

She frowns. “Come on, dingus, you can’t start and then—“

“No, I mean it. Nothing. That’s what I’m good for now that I can’t drive them anymore.”

“Bullshit!” she says, and it comes out so harsh that it makes Steve flinch. He swallows. Right. Robin isn’t hear to listen to him whine about how he feels like he has no place in this town, in this group, in this life anymore now that his head is so fucked up he can’t even be trusted to live alone.

That’s why Robin is here, right?

The babysitter becomes the babysitted… or something.

She doesn’t care, not really. She doesn’t listen. She doesn’t ask.

“Steve, they’re kids.”

“Yeah, well. So am I.”

He turns away from her and ignores the tears threatening to fall. The door to his room falls shut and he would love to lock it just to make a point to the world at large, a point that it can’t shut him out if he shuts himself in, but he knows it’s too risky. If he has a seizure, Robin needs to get in.

He can’t even stay in his room alone without supervision anymore. What kind of a fuck-up is he becoming, where does it end? He’s already managed to chase away the kids, even Dustin only checks on him sporadically anymore, and it hurts. He wants to know why, wants to know what he did, how to take it back, how to get them back.

But then he remembers how it all started. Dustin needed a ride and someone to take a beating. Both of which he can’t do anymore without risking life and death of himself and others. He’s a safety hazard. He’s useless. He’s Steve fucking Harrington, which doesn’t mean anything anymore.

---

And then it’s spring, and Chrissy Cunningham is found dead in Eddie Munson’s trailer. The group is back together again, the Party assembled once more. And Steve, for a just one second, hopes that he can get it right this time, that he can do this again. One last time. Because Vecna slash Henry slash One surely is it.

But then they turn on him — even Eddie looks confused, which is a rather adorable look on him — the moment Steve tries to get a word in.

“You’re not coming with us, Steve.” That’s Dustin, and Steve just rolls his eyes, but then Robin joins in.

“Yeah, no, I’m with the gremlin on this, dingus.”

“Hey!”

“Oh shut it, Henderson.” She turns to him, her eyes softer but no less burning another hole inside Steve. “We can’t risk it, Steve.”

“Risk what?” It’s a challenge. His shoulders squared, his jaw clenched, he’s challenging her, and it’s cruel.

She holds his eyes, her expression icy, like he’s stupid. “We can’t risk you dying. We can’t risk you getting a seizure mid-fight or just by being in the Upside Down.”

“Hey, woah,” Eddie tries to get a word in, but Steve won’t hear him as the desperation, the loneliness, the feeling of being caged like a bird and still the only human left on a desolate planet, all that breaks free.

“We all know that dying in a fight is the only thing I’m good for anyway.”

The silence among their war council, as Max dubbed it, is deafening.

“What?” Lucas sounds small when he asks that, and Steve closes his eyes. He hadn’t meant for him to hear that. Any of them, actually. They weren’t supposed to know.

“Steve, that’s not true.” Dustin’s words are filled with disbelief and worry, and Steve hates the worry, it makes his skin crawl, it makes his heart race, it makes his fists clenched and it makes him want to scream again.

“What else then, huh?” he asks weakly. “What else is there? None of you even talk to me anymore since Starcourt. Since summer.”

“Because you were pulling away,” Nancy explains, though her words are weak and her mouth clicks shut when Steve looks at her.

“Because we’re scared.” Max this time, and Steve doesn’t want to look at her, doesn’t want to tell a child that she’s not allowed to be scared for him— not more than he is, anyway. It doesn’t make sense for him to be hurt. They don’t want him to die. That’s a good thing, right? They didn’t want to see him hurt, so they looked away. It makes sense.

But it also hurts.

Steve shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose before all but running from the trailer. He doesn’t make it far (“Stay close so we won’t have to worry”), just needs some fresh air and to sit down somewhere the world will become a bit less real again.

The stairs it is. He tries to breathe through the lump in his throat, clenching and unclenching his hands to get rid of the anger and the hurt and all that excess energy.

He doesn’t want to die, is the thing. The very thought makes him nauseous and panicky. He wants his life back. His car. The freedom to just jump in there and get away. He doesn’t want the cage or the worry or the hovering or the loneliness when he isolates himself from all that.

Face buried in his hands, Steve almost misses it when someone comes to sit beside him. The thick smell of leather and cigarettes tells him who it is without looking up.

Eddie doesn’t speak for a while, just sits with him as Steve calms down.

And then, after a while, he lights a cigarette and asks, “You get seizures, Harrington?”

Steve nods. “Sometimes.”

Eddie hums. “That sucks.”

He nods again, and then that’s that. But even though it was a rhetorical question and Eddie didn’t even need an answer, it feels pathetically good to be asked about something. About himself. It only makes the pit inside his chest deeper, cutting into his soul with a sharp edge, this tiny little moment of normalcy. He wants to cling to it. He wants to talk to Eddie. God, he hasn’t really talked to anyone in so long.

“Before Starcourt — remember, the mall? The fire? Yeah that was, uhm. More monster shit. And Russians who thought I was a spy and then… yeah. Anyway. Uh. We used to be friends, I think. The kids and I. They used to care — or I like to think that they did. And then I got one too many head injuries, and the seizures started, and then they… It became too much. For them, for me. And the caring stopped. And, like, it’s fine or whatever, but I still care, and I can’t let them do all that alone. I know that all I was good for was taking them somewhere with my car, but I can’t drive anymore, so now I’m just… I’m just Steve. No titles attached, no use or function or point.”

Eddie just stares at him, puzzled and intrigued and even a little sad, and Steve wants to laugh it off when the silence stretches.

“Sorry, that’s kind of a sob story, you—“

“Wait here,” Eddie says, stubbing out his cigarette before disappearing back into the trailer. Steve watches him with a confused frown but stays put. A minute later, the door flies open and a scandalised looking Max appears, followed by the rest of the crew.

“You what?!”

“Uh,” Steve blinks. “I what?”

“Eddie told us you think you’re useless and that we don’t like you and that all you were ever good for is driving us from A to B with, like, no personal value whatsoever,” Dustin fills in, sounding no less bewildered. “Is that true, Steve?”

And God, the kid is so good at making all his questions sound like dares that Steve instinctively wants to swallow and negate it, tell them that Eddie misheard, that he’s fine, that everything fine.

But then Robin’s whispered little, “Steve” stops him from doing that. In fact, the sadness and confusion on their faces makes the dams break once more, confronted with months of spiralling and no one to drag him out, no one to listen.

Tears spring to his eyes and he gets up from the stairs to properly face them. He shrugs. It’s as much of a confirmation as anything.

And then Dustin sprints forward and tackle-hugs him, burying his face in Steve’s chest with no intention to let go anytime soon.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Steve’s shirt and Steve runs a hand through his hair immediately.

“It’s okay, Dustin.”

“No! It’s fucking not okay, Steve, stop saying that. You’re my big brother, you’re my best friend, you’re my hero! You’re the coolest guy I know and nothing’s gonna change that, okay?”

“Then why’d you leave?” His voice is so small, but Dustin only hugs him tighter.

“Because you were hurting and I was… I feel like all of that is my fault.”

“Why would it be your fault, Dustin?”

He shrugs, and it breaks Steve’s heart. Dustin thinks everything is his fault just like Steve thinks it’s his.

“It’s me who got you into the thing with the Russians. I insisted. And you were tortured for it, Steve! You… You told us to go, and we did, and then we came back and you were— you-“

“Hey,” Steve whispers, curling himself around and over Dustin. “Hey, no, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. None of that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry I pulled away, Steve,” Dustin sniffles and looks up at him. “I swear it’s not because I think you’re useless. It’s just… I’m so scared.”

And it makes sense, somehow. The anger leaves Steve when he whispers, “Me too. And I don’t like it when you’re all scared and worried. I hate it.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Shut up.”

And then they’re both laughing with tears in their eyes. Lucas and Max join them with their own promises that Steve isn’t worthless to them.

“Did you read my letter? You know, the one if…”

“No,” Steve says. “You told me not to.”

“Right. Anyway, read it. Whatever happens, I want you to read it. Because you’re my brother and you mean too much for me to, like, never let you know. But, uh. Billy died. And I hated him, but it fucked me up. And then you almost died, and then you almost died again; and then you just… collapsed. And I thought, I cant do this again, not with someone I actually like. Not with you. And I didn’t wanna watch. I watched Billy. I… I can’t watch you die, Steve.”

She’s crying by the end of it, and Steve pulls her against his chest. Shit, he hadn’t meant to make anyone cry like that.

“It’s okay, Max, I get it.”

“Not okay,” she shakes her head again. “I know it’s not. But—“

“I know.” He’s stroking through her hair. “I know.”

“Uh, guys? I hate to break up the heartfelt confession time,” Eddie chimes in. “But I think our window is closing.”

Right. The end of the world.

With one last squeeze to Max’s shoulders, he lets her go and they gather their things. Discussions about Steve’s joining their mission have been put on hold while their window is still open. They can continue this later.

Nancy drives while Max holds Steve’s hand in the back. They don’t talk and she has her headphones on, letting Kate Bush work her magic, but it’s fine. It feels a bit like healing.

He catches Eddie’s eyes on the other side and holds them for a while. Eddie smiles before looking away, and Steve does the same.

---

In the end, Steve doesn't climb the rope with them. He stays behind in Eddie's trailer even though every fibre of his being screams at him to join. But Nancy has a point when she explains to him that she and Robin got this. It's the first time he stays behind, and he hopes it will be the last.

They hug him before leaving, all of them. Promises are made to talk about this later, after, and he nods.

"Go save the world for me," he tells Robin, holding her tight, unwilling to let go.

"Only for you," she promises, and kisses his cheek before pulling away. "You better be right here when we come back."

He shrugs and gives her an encouraging smile. "I've got nowhere else to be, Buckley. Now go." The last words are whispered and it feels like goodbye. Steve should join them, he should be there! But his head is pulsing and he knows that one wrong move could leave him half blind with a migraine, and they don't need one more handicap.

The one thing he can do, though, is helping them climb the rope, and it makes him feel ridiculously proud, seeing them land safely on the other side, smiling up (or down?) at him. Robin and Nancy wave one last time before heading off.

That leaves him alone with Eddie and Dustin. The latter is already climbing the rope, itching to finally do something, preparing the trailer for their plan.

Only Eddie is left, and Steve looks over at him.

"Will you be okay, Steve?"

"Sure."

Eddie sighs and looks up at the gate, disbelief and resignation and even a hint of fascination in his eyes.

"It should be you," he says, and Steve frowns, confused. "You're the hero here."

"No," Steve huffs, smiling at the metalhead. "No, I'm no hero. The real heroes are already up there, and in California. The real hero died after Starcourt. I'm just the driver who lost his license, the boy with the bat. The protector who needs to be protected."

Eddie looks at him again, that kind of intense stare, the one that shows Steve that Eddie sees something in him. He wonders what it is, but isn't sure he wants to know.

"I think you're wrong, Steve." He says it with such gentle conviction that it takes Steve's breath away for a second, and something passes between them as they hold each other's eyes.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something, but then–

"Eddie!" Dustin is calling for him from the other side, and the boys snap out of their daze.

Steve steps into Eddie's personal space and pulls him to his chest. "Make him pay," he says. "But stay safe. Come back, okay? First sign of danger, you abort mission. Come back, Eddie. I'll be right here."

"Yeah," Eddie rasps, and he squeezes Steve once more. "Catch me when I fall through that gate in two hours?"

Steve laughs, a sad little thing, and he pushes Eddie away from him, hands steady on his shoulders. "Sure, big boy."

"Hey, that's my part."

"Say it when you come back, then."

This thing passes between them again, and then Eddie goes to climb the rope. Steve's hands find their way to his hips, steadying him, but Eddie is strong enough to pull himself up without problem. Huh.

"In the meantime, wrap your head around the fact that you're the one I'm coming back for, pretty boy."

And then Eddie is gone. Steve watches as he falls through the gate, landing on the mattress with more elegance this time, and then he, too, grins down (or up?) at Steve.

He gives a little wave, and then he is alone.

Plenty of room to think when your friends have gone on a suicide mission and you're the one who has to stay behind. The one who will have to do the explaining when things go south. The one who will have to watch and listen, helpless.

It makes him regret the past few months, the self isolation, all the times he pulled back, all the times he didn't push for an explanation or a conversation, all the times he hadn't asked the kids if they're alright because he was too caught up in all the ways that he wasn't.

God, he wants them to be okay. He wants to talk about this, wants them to tell him he's more than the driver without a license, more than the protector who needs protecting. He wants Eddie to come back and explain what he meant, say what he wanted to say. He wants...

He wants his old life back. But more than that, he wants them in his new life just as much. He wants to be brave enough for this new life and find a new purpose. Create one if he can't find it.

But he can't do it alone. He refuses to do it alone even one day more.

"Come back to me," he whispers, looking up at the gate from where he's sitting on the floor, back against the wall. "Come on guys, you've got this. Please work. Please, make the plan work."

And then, miraculously, it does. Eddie falls into his arms with an undignified squeal and the rest of the Party soon follow. They're unscathed, miraculously, and Steve cries as he holds them, all of them, in a group hug that makes the trailer smell like relief and grief and a new life ahead of them. Slowly, with an unnatural sound, the gate above them closes, and then silence reigns.

They cling to him now. Refuse to let go. Good thing he has nowhere to go as Lucas gasps and sobs into his chest, explaining what happened, that Jason almost destroyed the walkman, that Max could have died. And Steve runs shaky hands through his hair, pulling in Max, too, so the three of them can just hold each other for a second.

Dustin and Eddie are hugging beside them, and Nancy and Robin hold hands, a different kind of horror in their eyes, but they smile wetly at Steve as their eyes meet.

It's over. It's done.

They did it. They really did it.

Steve closes his eyes and holds Lucas and Max tighter. They don't complain.

---

Three days later, Steve's house is brimming with life again like it hasn't in months. Turns out, Hopper survived, and he hugged Steve for a whole five minutes, telling him he did good, he did great, he's a hero. Again with that shit that Steve doesn't believe, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Hop, so he just buries deeper into their embrace.

"It's good you're alive," he tells him, and the Chief sobs out a laugh.

"You too, kid. This town would be lost without you."

"Yeah, right," Steve laughs back, and then that is that.

Except, it isn't, because when he returns to the living room with Hop, Joyce and El in tow, everyone's standing, looking at him with timid expressions. Robin and Eddie are holding hands this time, and so are all the kids. They all look like they have something to say, and the only thing missing is a large banner that says INTERVENTION.

"Uh, what's going on?"

Dustin is the first to clear his throat, but only after Erica kicks him. "We wanted to apologise. For leaving you when you needed us the most."

Oh. Steve's shaking his head, placating words already on the tip of his tongue, ready to explain to them how that's not their fault, how that was all him, he could have said something, he could have asked, he could have–

"Steve," Nancy says, effectively cutting off any protest he could have voiced. "Just listen, okay? Don't say anything."

He looks at Joyce, who nods, and Hopper who looks about as lost as he feels.

Dustin continues then. "You deserved better, Steve, you really, really did. We all did, I think, but you... You put yourself in harm's way from the get-go."

"Yeah, you came to protect me when you didn't even like me." Jonathan this time. "No thoughts, just protection. I owe my life to you. Every single one in this room does, y'know."

"And what you got for it is severe head trauma and... us abandoning you." Nancy.

"You're not just the driver, Steve. You never were just a driver to us." Hell, even Mike is in on this? "You're annoying, you suck, and you don't even try not to act like you're everyone's big brother."

"You're family, Steve." Oh, baby Byers. That's what gets his eyes stinging and his lip trembling, so he bites down on it so they won't have to see. It's futile with the way they're smiling.

"Yeah. You're so much more than our babysitter," Lucas explains. "You're the best basketball coach."

"You actually listen to my music and read comics with me," Max continues with a smile. "You suck just a little less than everyone else in this town."

"Hey!"

"No, she has a point."

Steve's not keeping up with the who's who anymore, he's trying too hard to keep it together.

"You teach me new words," El says, smiling. "You give me your clothes, you take me shopping, you teach me how to deal with meanies."

And the list goes on. Everyone has something to say to him, something beyond the ways he can be useful. Something that he is to them, something meaningful, something that sounds a lot like purpose and family.

"And we were so scared, because you were hurt. Because of us. You were protecting us, and look where it got you. You're a hero, Steve. As real as they get, you are one."

"More than Wonder Woman," Max agrees. "More than Superman. You're Steve! And that's... He’s our hero."

"He’s our brother," Dustin says.

"He’s my son," Joyce adds, taking his hand.

"He’s our friend," Erica, Mike and El say in unison.

“He’s the one we stay for.” Robin’s eyes shine as she smiles.

“And the one we come back for.” Eddie’s smile is gentle, confident, and captivating. Steve can’t look away, even through his own tears.

---

In the following months, Robin gets her license and Eddie develops a sixth sense for whenever Steve needs to just sit in a car and ride around town, watching the street lamps pass and letting them lull him to sleep. There’s an upside to being a passenger, he finds, because he falls asleep like this a few times, always waking when Eddie kills the engine. He drives for hours sometimes, admitting with a blush high on his cheeks that he didn’t want to wake Steve.

Somewhere on the highway to Indianapolis, between three and four in the morning, Steve looks at Eddie in the soft glow of the night, and finds that he’s fallen in love.

And in the weeks and months and years that follow, he realises that that’s something new he’s good at.

#stranger things #steve & the party #steddie #steddie fic #but also not really. steddie is just something that happens along the way #this was meant to be short but uh. uh. whoops? #hi anna i am sorry feel free to ignore this i could have made this easier in everyone but they’re teenagers with trauma dammit #dio words #actually i just wanted an excuse to make steve sad. if you know me you know

[metalhoops]

People debate if Eddie or Steve would say ‘I love you’ first, but I propose an alternative perspective where they both say it long before they start dating and confuse the hell out of everyone, including themselves. 

Almost dying could put your life into perspective. 

When Eddie awoke in his hospital bed with his uncle at his side and the late afternoon light shining through the window blinds, he was struck with the kind of death-bed revelation reserved for men sentenced to dangle from gallows or grit worn teeth down the muzzle of guns. He was alive, despite the assumed certainty of his death hours or days before. 

Eddie let Wayne hold him, despite how much it hurt because the pain reminded him he was alive, that he’d made it out on the other side. Without thought, Eddie told Wayne he loved him. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but he couldn’t remember the last time it’d happened. 

They were long past the first few tumultuous years when Eddie had moved in with Wayne. Where they’d tiptoed around each other and waited with bated breath for their shared peace to go wrong. Eddie hadn’t been used to living in a household where he didn’t have to walk on eggshells to get by and Wayne wasn’t used to looking after himself, let alone a kid. 

They’d since found their rhythm, but it wasn’t often either man voiced their affections. Wayne showed his love. He didn’t speak it. That was just the way he was. Eddie didn’t share the man’s reservations, not anymore. His adolescents was a wave that had long since crested, and all care for others’ opinions had been thrown out the window. He wasn’t shy with his love, but his proximity to death made him reckless with it. 

When Dustin appeared at his bedside not long after, looking as though he were staring down a spectre, Eddie knew he had to do something. He leaned over, ruffled Dustin’s hair and told the kid everything was going to be okay, that he loved him. 

When the whole mess had died down and Eddie was able to come out of hiding, he showed up in Gareth’s garage at the usual time for band rehearsal. He was bombarded by a mess of limbs and an earful of questions. He told them his well-practised lie then muttered how glad he was to be back, how much he loved those stupid sons of bitches, because he did and they should know it. He’d never told them that before. 

What Eddie hadn’t expected was to fall fast and hard for Steve Harrington. Eddie wasn’t one for fast affection or grand romantic ideals. He had his head firmly attached to his shoulders, thank you very much. He knew fast love was just infatuation. You were falling for the idea of a person, not the real deal.

He knew it was stupid and yet at seeing Steve sprawled out on the floor of his trailer, in front of their shitty Philips Color TV, his usually styled hair mussed, Eddie thought he loved him, which was a terrible thought because it meant Eddie had to tell him. 

Steve was straight, and Eddie had only known him for two months. Sure, they’d floated past each other in high school, but that wasn’t this Steve. The Steve he loved. It was pathetic. Eddie was well aware. All the same, when he caught Steve’s curious brown eyes, he knew he’d have to tell him. Nothing good would come of it, but he was sick of leaving things unsaid. After all, he could die tomorrow. 

“What are you thinking about?” Steve asked, appearing blissfully ignorant of Eddie’s inner turmoil. 

“Nothing, I’m just glad you’re here. I love you, man.” 

Eddie spoke before his brain had the time to think through his actions. He tacked on a haphazard ‘man’, as though it lessened the severity of the statement. Eddie had never called anyone ‘man’ in his life- who the hell was he? 

“Oh, yeah. Me too,” Steve mumbled absentmindedly, laying back down and looking at the TV as the commercials came to an end. He was so cool and unbothered. 

Eddie was sure he’d taken his confession as a platonic one, which was what he’d hoped for. He’d got it off his chest, but it wasn’t going to screw up the good thing they had going. What he didn’t know was the meaning behind Steve’s response, ‘me too’ what? Was he glad he was with Eddie or...? 

“I love you too, Munson. I can hear the cogs ticking from over here and I want to watch the movie. You got me invested now,” Steve grumbled, returning his attention to the fantasy film Steve had no right to be as emotionally invested in as he was. 

“Have I got you invested or has Tom Cruse in chain mail got you invested?” Eddie joked, pushing his luck as he felt Steve lean over to smack his shoulder, mumbling ‘asshole’, under his breath. 

What Eddie hadn’t expected was for it to become a habit. Sure, he made a point of telling Wayne, Corroded Coffin and his band of misfit children he loved them when the mood struck, but with Steve, it somehow became a daily occurrence, what floored him most was that Steve was the one who started it. 

The next time they saw each other was when Eddie went to grab a movie from the Family Video store. At least that was the excuse he’d given to see Steve again. He chatted with Steve and Buckley before grabbing whatever caught his eye in the horror section and was about to head out with an overdramatised bow and salute when Steve smirked and mumbled, ‘love you, Munson,’ before his eyes widened in alarm. He caught Robin’s hawklike gaze shifting between them as she choked on a days-expired potato chip. 

“I meant... see you, Munson,” Steve amended awkwardly. Eddie shrugged his shoulders, practically preening at the slip of the tongue. He liked how Steve said it. Something about it felt special. 

“Love you too, Stevie,” he called as he turned to retreat to the safety of his van, not wanting to witness whatever can of worms he’d opened between Steve and Buckley. 

That was all it took to form a habit. He would spend the night at Steve’s place since the guy's parents had been MIA for months, and as the two went to part ways Steve would take one look at Eddie’s beaten-up van and mumble, ‘drive safe you idiot, love you,’ and a smile would threaten to split Eddie’s face in two. ‘love you too, jerk’. For a while, it was a tradition reserved for the two of them. Robin had to bear witness to the brunt of the love confessions, as Eddie would visit them at work, but in many ways, Steve saw Robin as an extension of himself, so for the most part, it was just between them. 

That was until Steve showed up to band practice. Eddie had offhandedly mentioned the time and location of their rehearsals in the hopes that one day Steve would show up. When he did Eddie was over the moon. He was halfway through a killer guitar solo when the familiar BMW Beamer pulled up the drive. With the rest of his bandmates promptly forgotten, Eddie lay his Warlock gently in his case (because no matter how absentminded the guy was he still cared about that damn guitar like a kid) then ploughed forward to meet Steve at the mouth of the garage. 

“Stevie, you came.” 

Eddie was too excited at the prospect of Steve watching him play. Music, along with D&D, was his creative outlet. It said everything his tongue couldn’t articulate and he had a lot he wanted to say to Steve.

Anyone who knew Eddie knew he was excitable and theatrical. He didn’t know how to do things in half measures. His bandmates shouldn’t have been surprised when Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s midsection, picked him up and spun him in several dizzy circles, only setting him down when they almost tumbled ass backwards over Gareth’s drum set. 

Eddie may have witnessed Steve try that move on Wheeler years before, but he’d deny it if anyone asked. Steve made the act seem easy and graceful. With Eddie at the helm, it was a chaotic jumble of limbs. While Steve gripped onto the man’s arm for dear life, not used to being manhandled, though by the fitful gasps of laughter that escaped his lips at the motion, Eddie noted he wasn’t opposed to it. When the two broke apart, Eddie felt his bandmates' watchful eyes on them, all sharing twin looks of confusion. 

“You’re going to break something, dumbass,” Steve grumbled as he smoothed over his hair and bowed his head to hide the blush from his cheeks.

Eddie tried to carry on with the rehearsal as usual, but he’d admit he added some peacocking for Steve’s benefit, not that the boy seemed to mind. Steve watched from one of Gareth’s bean bag chairs. It wasn’t his type of music, Eddie knew that, but the guy still watched enamoured. 

When the band was finished for the day, Steve managed to make small talk with the other boys when a thought struck Eddie. 

“What are you doing after this, Steve? The boys and I are having a movie marathon at my place. Want to hang out?” Steve blinked owlishly, surprised to be invited to what appeared to be a ‘band-only deal’. That wasn’t exactly true. Sometimes Jeff’s girlfriend or Grant’s brother would join them, once Gareth had even invited a guy over. Eddie had never done it, but there was a first time for everything. 

“I could do a movie night. I’ve gotta pick up Dustin from the Byers first, though, so I’ll meet you there,” Steve reasoned, and Eddie nodded, knowing Dustin came first. The little guy had weaselled his way into Steve’s heart and there was no way Eddie would ask him to forget the kid. Dustin had Eddie wrapped around his little finger as well, the brat.  

“Alright, meet you there. Love you, Stevie.” 

“Love you too.” The words rolled off Steve’s tongue easily as breathing. 

Left in Steve’s wake was utter chaos from the rest of the Corroded Coffin members. 

“Dude, why didn’t you tell us you were dating Steve Harrington?” Gareth berated, knocking Eddie’s shoulder roughly. 

“Seriously? What the hell, man? I never would’ve called that,” Jeff added before Eddie could get a word in edge-wise. 

“Wait, I’m lost, Harrington’s gay now?” Grant muttered, looking between the other boys. His bandmates knew Eddie was gay, but they’d definitely pulled the rest out of their asses. 

“I didn’t tell you because we’re not, and he’s not. Far as I’m aware. Can you guys drop it before we get back to mine? Steve doesn’t know I am and I’m planning on keeping it that way, thanks.” All three boys looked at Eddie as though he’d grown a third head. 

“But you guys were aggressively flirting,” Gareth argued. 

“You said you loved each other,” Jeff added. 

“Yeah, but I tell you guys I love you,” Eddie argued. 

“Definitely not like that and if you did, I’d be trying to work out how to let you down gently because Eds you’re firmly in the brother zone,” Gareth reasoned, playing with his drum kit. 

After that day, Eddie thought he should use his ‘I love yous’ more sparingly with Steve. Sooner or later, the guy was going to work out that the intent was anything but platonic. He’d gotten to know Steve well since the incident with The Upside Down. Nine months had passed and Eddie was still sickeningly sure he loved Steve. It’d gone past any form of infatuation. 

He knew who Steve Harrington was and what he wanted. Steve wanted his future to be a gaggle of kids, crammed into an R.V. heading out on family vacations. If they were to do it, it would be anything but the conventional nuclear family of Steve’s dreams but Eddie couldn’t help but fantasise about ways they could make it work. He wanted it. He was beyond screwed. 

When he and Steve were parting ways after the band’s movie night. This time Eddie uttered a lame,

“See you later, Stevie.’ 

To his surprise, he caught a look of confusion flash across Steve’s face. He opened and shut his mouth, looking as though he were weighing up his options. Unlike Eddie, the guy was good with social interactions. He knew how to read a room. 

“See you,” Steve replied, awkwardly smoothing down his hair in what Eddie knew to be a self-soothing gesture. Weird. 

Eddie kept this new, more formal, stilted form of goodbye going for a week, hating every second of it. He could feel Steve pulling away from him. Suddenly when he wanted to spend time with the guy, he was busy. The one time he hadn’t said ‘I love you’ back to Steve in front of Robin she shot him a look like he’d just kicked a wounded puppy. Eddie was understandably confused. 

It took the passing of another week for Steve to call him out on it. Eddie showed up on Steve’s doorstep unannounced, insisting they hang out because Steve had been avoiding him and he damn well wanted to know why. Steve let him in, much to Eddie’s surprise. 

“Did I do something wrong?’ Steve asked out of the blue as the two sat hunched over at the Harrington’s dining room table, looking over Eddie’s Dark Tower board game. Steve had picked it up surprisingly fast when he’d first brought the game to his place. 

Eddie’s eyes swept over the board before shaking his head. 

“No, that was a safe move. You’re fine.” Steve’s brows drew together, and he shook his head. 

“I’m not talking about the game,” He grumbled, still not meeting Eddie’s eyes. Alright, what had Eddie done wrong now? 

“What? No. Stevie. Why would you think that?” 

Eddie had been asking himself the same question: what had he done to push Steve away? Now that Eddie was focusing on Steve, he noticed how the boy had hunched over himself, his shoulders up around his ears. His body tucked into itself. Usually, Steve was confident and unbothered, but he looked so small. Eddie knew something was very wrong.  

“You stopped saying...” Steve’s voice trailed off. He rolled his eyes, looking pissed off. Not with Eddie, but with himself. 

“Doesn’t matter. It’s stupid. My knight guy is going to the ruins,” Steve amended before Eddie could get a word in edge-wise. He leaned over, pushing the keypad on the tower, obnoxious electronic music filling the silence between them.

Eddie finally understood what Steve was worried about. Instead of taking his next turn he twisted a strand of hair around his finger and inhaled. Screw what other people thought. Since when did he care, anyway? 

“Steve,” Eddie breathed. Full name. Serious business. Steve looked up. 

“I love you. Sorry I haven’t said it in a while. I was getting in my head about... stuff.” Steve nodded, trying to look uncaring, but he failed miserably, his face scrunched and contorted. 

“Stevie, I can hear the cogs ticking from here. Whatever you want to say, say it,” Eddie breathed, nudging Steve’s socked foot with his. 

“I just- you were acting like... Christ. Forget it. It’s bullshit,” Steve stammered, standing up from the table, suddenly a bundle of energy, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. 

“What was I acting like?” Eddie asked, staying rooted to his seat, though his fingers drummed on the table nervously. 

“Like we were in love,” Steve spoke at last, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

“Like we were in love?” Eddie echoed, unable to believe what Steve was implying.  He watched Steve recoil as the words escaped his lips.

‘In love’ wasn’t a description someone used for friendship. Friends weren’t ‘in love’ with each other. Jesus Christ. 

Eddie stood, cringing at the scraping sound his chair made against the tile floor. He really hoped he wasn’t reading this wrong. 

“Please don’t punch me in the face,” Eddie grumbled under his breath as he crossed the space between them. 

Steve remained rooted to the spot as Eddie hesitantly placed a hand on his cheek. He remained still. His brown eyes swelled wide and locked on Eddie’s. He waited for a beat, just long enough for Steve to pull away if that’s not what he wanted. When he didn’t, Eddie pulled him closer, crashing their lips together, his fingers snaking their way to the back of Steve’s neck. Holy shit, Steve was kissing him back. 

Eddie lost the capacity for logical thought somewhere between Steve’s hand finding his ass, and his tongue slipping into his mouth. When they did pull apart, Eddie felt breathless and boneless. 

“Wait, you actually love me?” Eddie asked when his brain finally came back online. Steve nodded, looking equally as shocked. 

“I told you that months ago,” Steve confirmed. 

“I didn’t know you meant it like that... you were so damn unbothered I thought you...” Eddie’s voice trailed off, a vague memory spiking of a story Dustin had told him a lifetime before. It was something to do with Steve’s dating advice. From what Eddie remembered, he’d stressed the importance of acting aloof, as if that actually worked for anyone. 

“I didn’t want to come on too strong,” Steve argued, sounding equally exasperated. 

“You, Steve Harrington, are a dumbass,” Eddie scoffed disbelievingly. 

“How the hell am I in love with you?” 

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #steve harrington #steddie fic #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #fluff and angst #miscommunication #eddie x steve #steveddie #the movie they are watching #ins legend #1985 #because for me that is THE steddie movie #Look Steve still has some baggage after the 'bullshit' talk #I don't know how it wriggled its way into this fic #but it did #originally this was meant to be all fluff #but I suck at that apparently #Also at 'ficlets' #'It's a ficlet' #I mutter to myself then write like 3k #don't get me started on when I try to write a one shot #then I get a 100k multichaptered fic #Metalhoops writes

[joshlmbrt]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ YOU DON’T HAVE THE TIME, YOU LEAVE THEM ALL BEHIND | truck driver!e. munson x mom!reader

w; mom and dad argument, chance is non-verbal, eddie not realizing what you’re truly saying, hurt AND comfort.

request; ‘thinking about “come home, the kids miss you” with truck driver!eddie … he’s leaving for days, when you argued the night before, regretting the words left unsaid … eddie cradling the payphone to his ear like it’s your face … any way he can hear your voice, if only for a moment, his heart breaking as you cry through the phone … they way your au has me in a chokehold, i s2g 🥹🥺💖💞’ - @reysorigins

an; the fact that rey went on my masterlist, read my fave au, and requested has me crYINGHHHHHhH, because i absolutely love this au with my whole heart and rey.

It’s different this time when Eddie leaves home - he’s off work, but leaving home. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right with how he left things, slamming the door on his way out and driving off without a thought. 

The motel bed is lumpy, and it smells weird in the room. He’s sure he saw a bug crawl across the wall. And if he were to be killed, no one would know and he couldn’t call for help - the line to the phones being down. 

He’s pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes, his wet lashes flattening. 

“You knew what you were getting into when I told you about this job!” 

“But it takes all your time, Eddie! I barely see you. Chance barely sees you. He misses you when he’s gone!” 

“Oh, don’t use him against me!” 

“I’m not using anything against you, Eddie. I’m telling you how I feel because you asked! You did!” 

He did ask - that’s where he went wrong. Although it was a rhetorical question - ‘what do you want me to do?’ - he didn’t like the answer you gave him. 

He flips in the bed, eyes staring at the door as he tries blinking away the burn that would lead to inevitable tears. 

“There you go. Running away like you always do!” 

“I’m not running!” 

“You are! You’re running away because you don’t want to listen to me! I should’ve known better than to think you’d understand because you always want everything to go your way or you’ll throw a fit!” 

He’s shoving clothes into a bag, walking out of the room and towards the door. He can hear sniffles, but he’s angry and he doesn’t want to feel suffocated in a house filled with tension. 

He slams the door. 

He was acting like his father. 

Running away when things got too tough and he couldn’t handle it - didn’t want to deal with it. He remembered when there were nights when he heard his mom crying in her bedroom then the shake of the trailer when his dad would leave. 

He would always go into the kitchen and grab two cookies from the jar, walking into her room. He would climb into the mountain of covers, cuddling up to her side and hand her the cookie. She would always thank him. 

‘I’ll save it for later.’ She would always say, pressing a kiss to his temple. He would find them tossed into the trash. 

He hates to think Chance is doing the same. Consoling you when he’s the one who should be. Eddie grew up too fast - emotionally - to protect himself from the words of his family and other people. 

He lifts from the bed, rubbing a hand down his face. He had left his bag inside his truck because he didn’t know if he was going to sleep in the truck or a motel - or leave and go home. 

His eyes linger on the black phone near the bed, huffing out a sigh, pushing himself up from the bed and walking towards the door. He knows it was useless when he was handing the woman behind the window a fifty for a single night. 

There’s a pay phone on the other side of the hotel. He bites at the skin inside his cheek, pulling out a loose quarter that was in his pocket. 

He walks along the gravel, eyes staying on his shadow that follows him along towards the pay phone on the gravel that was lit up by a green color from the word MOTEL. 

He slips the quarter in, picking up the phone from the receiver. His finger hovers over the metal keypad, breath shuddering as he finally types in a number he knows by heart. 

It rings three times. “Hello?” You sound tired, congested with snot. His eyes squeeze shut and his forehead rests on the side of the payphone. He probably shouldn’t, he doesn’t know who has used it or touched it. 

“It’s me,” He breathes out. It’s silent. He digs into his pocket, searching for another quarter, lips pulling into a frown when he doesn’t find one in either pocket. “I just… I wanted to call and tell you I'm sorry,” His fingers grip the phone between his rough palms. 

“And what I said, I didn’t mean. You… you were just trying to tell me how you felt - I should’ve listened to you instead of immediately jumping on you.” 

You sigh over the phone. There’s a scratching on the other side. “I'm sorry too.” 

His brows pinch together. “Honey… No, you don’t-”

You’re cutting him off. “No. I am. I should’ve… I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat either,” You sigh again. “We should’ve sat down and talked about it like adults.” 

There’s a beeping and he presses his fingers between his eyes. “Listen, sweetheart. I don’t have much longer this quarter. But… I’ll, uh…” 

“You’ll come home?” There’s a quiver in your voice and his eyes open and head tilts when he hears it. He feels his own throat get heavy with emotion - he gulps it down like pins and needles. His thumb moves back and forth on the back of the telephone. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I’ll come home. We don’t have to talk about it tonight. We can tomorrow.” 

“That sounds good.” 

The drive home was quick. He had left his bag in his truck, again, jogging up the steps. He unlocks the door and opens it, stepping inside. On the couch, he notices Chance. A blanket over his small body, small snores escaping his nose. 

He walks over, carefully lifting his sleeping body. His cheek smooshes against Eddie’s shoulder, arms dropped by his side. Eddie rubs a hand up and down his back. 

He passes by you in the kitchen, a hand to your bicep, squeezing softly, before nudging Chance’s door open with the toe of his boot. He lies him down, placing the bunny closer to him and lifting the blanket over his shoulders. He leans down, pressing a kiss to his forehead before flipping on his dinosaur night light that circles around the room in reds, blues, greens, and oranges. 

He turns and walks out of the room, shutting the door quietly before walking to the kitchen. He watches you for a moment before walking behind you, hands rubbing up and down before slipping up to your shoulders. 

His thumbs dig into your tense shoulders, his lips pressing against the back of your head. He inhales deeply, catching a whiff of your shampoo and a spritz of your perfume. 

His thumb small lines against the base of your spine. “I’m sorry.” He whispers. 

You turn in his arms, lifting your hands and pushing his curls away from his face as you nod. “I’m sorry too.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I just…” You pause, lips flattening as you look at his chest. His hands slide up your neck before resting on your jaw, rubbing at your cheeks softly. “I’m scared something will happen and you won’t come back.” 

“Sweetheart,” He pouts softly before pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips before resting his forehead against yours. He wipes away the fresh set of tears that fall down your flushed cheeks. “Nothing won’t happen to me-”

“You never know.” 

“Nothing won’t happen to me,” He repeats, fingers tightening their grip into a firm hold before they soften again. “I’m always safe. I always check everything. I’m safe. But I can always talk to Ron about shortening my days - I’ve been thinking about doing that anyway.” 

“Baby, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that. And-” His lips are on yours to stop your rambling, Your brows lift slightly, hands circling around his wrists. His thumbs wipe under your eyes again when he pulls away slowly, giving you one last peck. 

“You’re not making me do anything that I don’t wanna do,” He whispers, nudging his nose against yours. “Like I said, I’ve already thought about having a talk about it. I miss you and Chance when I’m gone. I hate being gone so long.” 

Your lip trembles, he places the pad of his thumb against your chin - you still think he’s lying. “I’m not lying.” 

You nod a bit, looking down at the ground. He smiles a bit, pushing some hair behind your ear with one hand.

“You tired?” He whispers softly. You nod again. “Come on, sleepyhead. I’ll make you some breakfast in the morning and we can go to the park tomorrow.” 

You peek up at him, a small glimmer in your eye. “Really?” He huffs out a small laugh. 

“Really.” 

— @stveharringtn 2024

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ thanks for reading! comments, reblogs, likes, feedback is highly encouraged, welcomed, & deeply appreciated.

#cherry writes ✿ #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #joseph quinn x reader

[luimagines]

Super excited you opened requests! If possible could you do one where the chain (individual or together dealers choice) ends up in the readers time after the adventure ends and thinking they wouldn't see each other again? (Maybe a sprinkle of confessions that they didn't get the chance to say before)

Secret conclusion to Leaving before he confesses? o.o Yes, no? Maybe so? Doesn't have to be. Take it as you will. :D

Masterlist

Part one will include Time, Twilight and Warriors!

Content under the cut!

Time

Time was about to lose his mind. Wasn't he suppose to be done with this whole adventuring thing? He's getting too old for this.

Why doesn't he know where he is? Why is he so far from home? He doesn't even remember walking through a portal this time. All he knows is that he was walking home after his shift on Lon Lon Ranch, then the world melted and he was in the middle of a forest.

This is getting obnoxious. He doesn't even have any of his weaponry nor does he have his armor. If he were to be attacked at this very moment, he would have to get creative. It's unfortunate that he's not as young as he used to be.

There's a trail he can follow at least. Maybe it can lead him to civilization and he can get some answers and start to figure out what he's supposed to do now.

Thankfully, he finds a town. It's small and quaint but it would suffice. Time isn't particularly picky about his options right now.

He walks into the town, glad that he's arrived before sunset when he spot a familiar face walking into a nearby house. He calls out your name in the hope that he's not fully lost his mind.

He sees you freeze before shaking your head and turning the doorknob to your house.

Time takes off running, calling your name again. This time you turn around and you drop the items in your hands. You scream but also star running toward him.

He can't help it. When you collide, he lifts you into the air and spins. It gets the stares of many people around and he can already hear the whispers but he finds that he couldn't care less.

He can smell your hair and whatever perfume you have on. It's nice.

You start crying.

Concerned, Time leads you back to the house you were about to enter, guiding you inside and picking up the items you've dropped in the process.

You don't seem to want to let him go. He feels the same, but he doesn't need to make a public spectacle of you. Although it takes a hot second, you both enter the house. You latch onto him again and this time he holds you firmly and tightly against his chest.

"I thought I would never see you again." You say with a broken voice.

"You and me both." Time admit with a sigh. He kiss the tears from your eyes and runs his hands over your face and hair and shoulders- trying to memorize and refamiliarize himself with your shape, your feel- your presence. "I've missed you."

You nod and nearly break down into sobs again.

He shush you gently and holds you close. He can't find it in himself to speak any more- less he start crying as well.

"I loved you." You blurt. "I still love you. I haven't stopped. I don't care if you don't feel the same- but I can't keep this inside me. I need to you know-"

Time kisses you.

He's been meaning to say the same but he finds this gets the message across quicker.

Twilight

Twilight felt like he had taken this one a little better than he did the previous one. Once again someone he had felt like he loved left without much of a goodbye. Things were left unsaid, things he wanted the other party to know- with the idea that there was no way for them to see each other again.

It hurt, but it wasn't like he hadn't gone through this before.

That being said, he kept to himself nowadays. With the children growing older, they were being put to use as extra hands around the village. They were starting their apprenticeships and were learning the tricks and trades of the generation before them. Ergo, they didn't need someone like him to watch after them as often anymore.

Which wasn't so bad. It was quieter around his place, sure. But it gave him time to think. Time to heal. time he didn't know he needed.

He still misses you though.

The idea of what could have been still sits in his mind. He sighs and cleans his house for the first time in weeks. You always seems to be cleaning something when you traveled together. Whether it be their clothes, their weapons, their equipment- it just became your job whether they acknowledged it or not.

He can already hear you yelling at him in the back of his mind for letting his home fall to the state it has.

He personally doesn't care all that much- but a clean house is still nice to have.

Suddenly the reflection in his mirror changes. He's no longer looking at himself- but at the inside of another house entirely. He stares at it for a good moment before putting his hand to the glass.

It goes through. It's as if there wasn't any glass to begin with.

Ever curious, he climbs onto the table and through the mirror. He looks through the other, still not wanting to step all the way through just in case.

"Weird." He mutters to himself. "Well this has never happened before."

Someone screams.

Twilight jumps and hits his head on the railing before ducking back into his house for safety.

"Wait, wait, wait!" You scream before he can retreat and haul him through the mirror completely. "Is it really-? Tell me it's truly you! Link! It's me! How did you get here?"

Twilight rubs his head and looks in you in quiet awe. "...The mirror shifted..."

You sniffle, almost instantly bursting into tears and hug him around the neck. "Oh my goodness! I thought I would have lost you forever!"

Twilight hugs you slowly. His limbs don't seem to keep in pace with his mind. Can it be-? It is really-?

Twilight says your name slowly and lifts your head up to look him in the eye. You smile, tearful but beaming. You put your hand over his and lean into his touch. "I have no idea how you got your mirror to connect to my house, but I'm not complaining."

"It wasn't in my plans." Twilight feels like laughing. It is! It is you!

He picks you up and spins you around. "It's you!"

"It's me." You laugh.

Twilight puts you down gently and cups your cheeks. "I think I'm in love with you."

You blush fiercely but snort. "I've been in love with you, Link. I'm glad you caught up finally."

Warrior

Warrior didn't to let himself get too lost in his heart ache. If you didn't know how uselessly in love her was with you, then you didn't know. You weren't worse off because of it. If anything, you were blissfully unaware of his emotional turmoil and therefore, living happily without a single thought of him in your head.

Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Although more so for you than for him.

And maybe he could take solace in that. You were living your life as you did before, so why can't he? It's not like anything will come from it now.

He sighs and puts the outgoing documents into the bin. He has a head ache now too. Not only can he not stop thinking about you, but the issues with the castle staff and the monster beyond their borders have been keeping his candle burning at both ends.

He needs a break.

Warrior stands up and walks out of his office, rubbing his temple as he goes.

He misses you. It's the only thing he can think about. Even if it's selfish at this point. He wishes he could have told you how he felt. Granted, he wasn't sure if that's knowledge that he should drop on you, and realistically he's glad that he didn't but the issue remains. He would feel better if you knew.

You might feel worse though.

What a pickle.

He walks through the castle with no destination in mind until he trips and falls down the stairs. He's already cursing himself in his head- hoping that there's no one around to witness this.

He hits the bottom and almost considers laying there to further the embarrassment.

He hears something shatter and he looks up in shock.

The first things he notices is that he's no longer in the castle. If anything, he looks like he's in a small house. He's still at the bottom of the stairs though. He pushes himself up, half in a daze and half aware that something having to do with more magical shenanigans has just happened.

"...Link?"

His blood goes cold. Oh how he's longed to hear that voice again- to hear you say his name. But this could be a trap.

He turns towards the sound cautiously. You're standing there, shattered plate by your feet with your hands over your mouth.

Warrior can feel himself tense up. You're stunning. Even now- "You look just as beautiful as the day you left."

You scramble over to him and hoist him onto his feet, breaking down into sobs before kissing him.

His eyes go wide as his hand land on your hips.

Well, this is certainly unexpected. But he's not complaining.

It takes him a moment to regain the use of his brain but he slowly kisses you back.

You pull away before he can get into it, wiping your face and running your hands over his upper body, taking him in. "...I missed you."

Warrior has to laugh. "Clearly... But it's ok." Warrior takes a chance kissing you once more. "I missed you too."

You bite your lip and blush a beautiful shade of red. You cough and play with the lapels of his uniform. You both stand there in silence, taking each other in.

Suddenly, as if the bubble pops, you both look each other in the eye a quiet breath passes between you both as you both speak in unison.

"I love you."

Part 2

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu x reader #linked universe x reader #the second and third requests were after i opened them up back in may #but this was already written #figured I'd just tag them on :D

[augustjustice]

When Steve’s parents finally come back to Hawkins several months after the end of the end, they cut Steve off fairly quickly. 

There have been rumors, you see, from the few of their friends still left in Hawkins. About the company Steve keeps, galivanting all over town with that Satan-worshipping murderer Munson. And when they finally arrive back at their large, cold house and Munson’s the one who answers the door, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers and one of Steve’s old basketball t-shirts? Well, what their son has really been up to becomes all too clear to them, and, careful not to make a scene that the neighbors will hear, they find Steve and tell him that he’s out in no uncertain terms. 

Not wanting either of them to get caught in the cross-fires of his dad’s anger, Steve grabs as many of his belongings as he can and goes without much of a fight, at Eddie’s insistence following his van in the Beemer all the way back to the Munson trailer. 

Steve moves in with Eddie and Wayne. It isn’t even really a conversation; Eddie just takes it as a given fact, and Steve feels compelled to argue, but every time he starts Eddie cuts him off with a reminder that they’ve practically been living together anyway, shuffling back and forth between the trailer and Steve’s big empty house.  “What, big boy, you gonna rebuff my advances now?” Eddie asks, teasing but laying on just a subtle enough guilt trip he knows Steve won’t be able to say no. He’s a pushover that way, always caves to the people he cares about. Eddie can’t help but love that about him. 

They don’t leave Hawkins. It’s hell, sometimes, what with Eddie’s reputation, and the whisperings now that Steve no longer lives in the big Harrington house. But they saved this town from hell itself, and that makes them both develop a certain stubbornness about it. Plus, the kids are still in school, and there’s an unspoken certainty that Steve won’t leave until they do, even with the threat over and the Upside Down gone.

But the general atmosphere makes finding gainful employment hard. Eddie still has a few connections at the shop in town, Thacher Tire, with the folks who weren’t susceptible to the things other people said about Eddie to start with. They recommend him to the guys at a garage a few towns over about thirty minutes away. Not completely outside the scope of rural Indiana gossip, but distant enough most people don’t recognize Eddie right away, don’t put the pieces together between his name and the boy who was plastered all over the six o’clock news. 

Steve, without making any mention of it, had quietly applied to Indiana Tech, certain he wouldn’t get in. 

By some miracle, he’s almost certain, he does, enrolled with a declared major in elementary education. Steve hasn’t quite settled on what path he wants to take, mulling over teaching as well as guidance counseling, but it’s a start. It’s something. He transfers his home campus to the same one where Eddie’s new shop is and quits his job at Family Video, working there agonizing with Robin off at college.  

Eddie picks him up off the ground and spins him around when he tells him, despite Steve’s laughing protests.

“I knew you could do it!” Eddie crows, triumphant.

“You did not, you didn’t even know I applied,” Steve argues, still laughing. 

“Oh, didn’t I tell you, Stevie? I’m secretly a telepath,” Eddie taps the side of his head, grin wide and mischievous. “Can’t keep secrets out of this steel trap, I know everything.”

It’s Steve’s turn to tackle him in a playful hug, wrestling a minute before he pulls out his “winning move”: tugging Eddie by his belt loops into a kiss. 

“It’s not even like it’s that big a deal,” Steve says once they’ve parted, shrugging. “Since it’s only part-time for now.”  

He leaves the reasons why unsaid, but Eddie hears them loud and clear, anyway.

“Me and Wayne will chip in,” Eddie assures him. 

“You don’t--that’s not--” Steve starts to argue, cut off when Eddie presses a finger against his lips. 

“Can’t get rid of us now, Stevie boy. You’re family, now. Which means we’re in this together, right? Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

Steve huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I really hate it when you use my own arguments against me, Eds.” 

Eddie grins, all-teeth. “I know.” 

Steve opens his mouth again, and Eddie can sense the lingering guilt and shame in the line of his shoulders, the way he hunches in on himself as he no doubt to mounts another argument, trying to discourage Eddie further. That won’t do.

“Now you know how it felt,” Eddie cuts in gently, “when you used to offer to pay for shit all the time.”

“That was different,” Steve tries to insist. 

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him in challenge. “Different how?”

Without missing a beat, Steve replies, a bit of a grin starting to curl at the corners of his mouth, “Because, technically, I was stealing that money from my dad.” 

Eddie can’t help but let out a bark of helpless laughter, any tension breaking.

So Steve accepts the “this is what we’re here for” argument, especially once Eddie makes clear Wayne won’t have it any other way, but he can’t quite convince Steve to bump up his status to full-time, not yet. Steve won’t let the Munsons pay his full way, is insistent he nail down a job, too, so they compromise with what they’ve got. 

Steve looks for a job in downtown, not far from the school and Eddie’s work. There’s a beauty salon on one corner hiring and Steve figures what the hell? He hasn’t gone to cosmetology school, but he knows hair, and he’s gotten decent at doing Robin, Max, and El’s nails at sleepovers. Plus, he’s willing to learn, and that has to count for something. 

His niche hair care product knowledge is enough to get him the job on the spot with the promise that he can apprentice a bit, learning as he goes.

Though it’s only part-time, the job turns out to be a perfect fit. Not only has he got the skills, but he’s friendly with a good personality and doesn’t mind indulging in a little small town gossip when it isn’t about him and his boyfriend. The clients quickly grow to love him, many starting to ask for him by name.

Steve and Eddie commute together, trading off who drives and saving on the gas money. The drive isn’t so far that they can’t drop Dustin and Max off at school on their way to the garage and campus respectively. (”At least until they get their licenses,” Eddie teases. “God, don’t remind me.” The mournful way Steve buries his face in his hands makes Eddie cackle.)

Their schedules keep things pretty hectic. They grab food together at the diner on main street during Steve’s free period and Eddie’s lunch hour. On the days Steve has night classes, Eddie hangs around the college library, using his boyfriend’s student ID to check out a few thick fantasy novels to keep him busy. The ladies at the salon all know Eddie by name from the times he’s been the one driving and picked Steve up, asking after Wayne when he sticks around to chat for a few minutes while Steve finishes up. When Steve has day classes and is free by early afternoon, he does his homework on the old leather couch in the garage’s lobby while he waits for Eddie to get off work. Sometimes Eddie finds him dozing off on the sofa. Sometimes Steve finds Eddie doing the same at a library table. 

For the sake of safety, they’re discreet enough in public most people don’t catch on; Steve suppresses a snort every time one of Eddie’s work buddies has called Steve his “roommate.”

“Yeah, I’m some roommate,” Steve says drily later, when they’re alternating making out in the back of the van and splitting a joint between them.

“Best roommate I ever had, sweetheart,” Eddie leans in and catches Steve’s bottom lip between his teeth. 

A few folks have cottoned on, however. One of the other mechanics is an old friend of Wayne’s from the war and their post-war protest days, and shares Eddie’s uncle’s stoic open-mindedness, asking after Eddie’s “fella.” The owner of the salon calls Eddie Steve’s “special friend” with a twinkling sort of knowingness, but she means well enough. 

But, there’s other types of knowingness, too. Frankie, the middle-aged woman at the garage who gives the boys a nod with a twinkle in her eye on her way out when she catches Eddie practically throwing himself into Steve’s arms in the parking lot. Serenity, the punk stylist with multi-colored hair and piercings down her ear that mentions her own roommate to Steve with a Cheshire cat smile. Teddy, the shy 17 year-old taking classes while he’s still in high school with an eye on the cosmetology school who asks Steve if he can put in a good word for him at the salon. 

“Did Robin tell you about that club they’ve got up at Emerson?” Steve asks one night over their dinner of cheeseburgers and fries. “The...GLA?” 

“GSA,” Eddie corrects, “yeah, she told me. Gay-Straight Alliance, right? What about it?”

Steve hums, thoughtful. 

“Maybe I’ll try to start one, next year. At Tech.” 

There’s a delicate anxiety that ripples in the air between them, but there’s excitement, too, at the idea.

Eddie’s smile widens. 

“That’s a great idea, Stevie.”  

Friday nights are reserved for Corroded Coffin concerts, the boys rushing from work to the Hideout to make it in time for Eddie’s gig. The crowd is still modest, but growing, Eddie’s reputation, both tainted and reformed, a bolster that drew people in. “I mean, yeah, sure, but it’s the talent that got them to stay. Seriously, who could look away when Eddie’s the front man?” Steve is quick to insist whenever someone brings it up, hair teased and wearing his own band shirt proudly. By Saturday afternoon, the kids are all piled in around the coffee table for Eddie’s latest campaign, Steve setting out snacks and crowding around the table with them to watch, keeping up a commentary of snarky or confused asides just to rile Mike up. On Sundays, Steve cuts coupons at the Munson family dinner table, glasses he realized he needed a few weeks in to trying to make out the class blackboards slipping down his nose. 

In between, he studies for long hours on the couch, determined not to mess things up this time. When he gets too tired, the words starting to blur on the page and his frustration becoming visible, Eddie will take the textbook from his hand and read it out loud to him, Steve tucked up contentedly against his boyfriend’s side. 

Robin calls twice a week, spending at least an hour on the phone with Steve as she gives him the latest rundown on college life and how she and Nancy are faring. The rare times they all manage to be home at the same time, Steve and Eddie cook together, sharing a family meal with Wayne. They go to every one of Lucas’s basketball games they can manage, and Eddie has even made the special trip back to Hawkins to go alone when Steve can’t make it due to night school. His half butchered attempt to recount what happened afterwards always makes Steve giggle. 

The following Christmas, Eddie buys Steve a pastel pink polo shirt he knows cost too much. Steve decides it’s the best piece of clothing he’s ever gotten, more aware of its worth than he had been of anything else hanging in his closet before. Eddie can barely get him to wear a coat over it even though it’s snowing outside. 

They come together, like disparate pieces of a puzzle, to form this mosaic of a life they’ve built for themselves. 

Steve thinks about it, one morning, as he watches Eddie pouring coffee into Steve’s ‘World’s Greatest Mom’ mug and Eddie’s own personal favorite, the one with the rainbow on the front. About picket fences and cross-country RV road trips with a gaggle of kids in the back. 

This isn’t that, exactly. Not the life Steve had pictured for himself, clinging on desperately to a dream that comforted him when the world seemed dark. Certainly not the life his parents’ had wanted for him, if anything the exact opposite.

Maybe he’ll have the fantasy someday. Not the typical suburban nuclear family version of it, sure, but a version all his own. 

And maybe he won’t. Steve wouldn’t trade it for this, anyway, even a second of it.

Because, for once, in his life, he’s happy. Tired, sure, and always unbelievably busy, but incandescently happy.

When Eddie turns and places Steve’s coffee in front of him, black with two sugars just the way Steve likes it, he catches Steve’s gaze. His eyebrows draw together at Steve’s expression, smile confused. 

“What’re you staring at, big boy?” Eddie wipes at the corner of his mouth. “I got drool on my face or something?”

“Nothing,” Steve murmurs, still sleepy-eyed as he pulls Eddie down into a kiss, “just love you.”

“Yeah?” Eddie exhales the word against his lips, breathless like he still doesn’t quite believe it. “I love you, too, baby.” 

Maybe they’ll move out of Hawkins, some day, when the kids finally graduate and scatter, follow Dustin to University of Chicago or wherever he ends up. Maybe they’ll take up an apartment near Nancy and Robin on the East Coast, or spend a summer with Jonathan and Argyle in San Fran, having a wild, queer time. 

But, those are thoughts for the far distant future. For now, they’re happy. Safe. Satisfied. 

Home.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my stuff #my things #my writing #something something building a life for yourself against the odds in a small town in the 80s #it sounds angsty at the start but i promise this is happy #more impossibly long not!fic from yours truly

[theold-ultraviolence]

Hello my loveeeeee

I come bearing Aemond thots

So we know Aemond is observant and a man of few words so in relation to his wife I think he would have sooo many feelings about just the littlest things he notices about her but he can't figure out how to say it I imagined he's tried to a couple times but it didn't come out right poor thing

So he started writing her letters almost daily even though they see eachother every day just so he can get his words out 🤍

Whispers Unsaid / Part II

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

A/N: CEE. When I tell you I've never ran to write a prompt THIS QUICKLY, I think I'm breaking a personal record here. This is the sweetest, most precious and unique concept ever and omg I hope I did it justice. Thank you for indulging me and for letting me explore more of Aemond!! Title is based on the song 'Hail to the King' by A7X, which is also the album that has been inspiring me when it comes to him. CW: suggestive language, no explicit content. Words: 2k.

“What are you doing, husband?” 

You sigh from your spot on your shared bed, with an outstretched hand in search of his touch, only it lands beside you on the empty dent where the warmth of his form still lingers. 

It’s late, and Aemond’s back is towards you, with his long hair cascading behind him like the silvery moonbeams that reflect on the ocean just outside of King’s Landing. Straight and stoic as always, he sits, illuminated by the triad of candles sitting on his desk as he’s calmly scribbling away on paper. 

He stops as soon as he hears your quiet calling, and only turns halfway to grant you a little smirk.  “Just some writing. Go back to sleep.”  

“Just some writing, he says...”

He huffs out a quiet puff of air that’s just Aemond’s way of laughing, and you consider it a win. 

At the beginning, the silence had unnerved you; it puzzled you, to be the one to take up the mantle between the two of you and prompt the conversation out of him for seldom did he utter a single word. It’s like Aegon had claimed all the bark upon being the first one to leave their mother’s womb and left no words to spare for Aemond or Helaena. 

But in time, you learned that that’s just the kind of man that Aemond is, and it does not mean that he despises you, as you’d first believed as a newlywed, being one in need of affirmation to be at ease knowing their care is reciprocated.

Having been betrothed to Aemond had proved to be a blessing, despite it being a political arrangement. You’d grown too fond of him, too attached to his scent and the weight of his body against you. You’d often think about what would’ve become of you, hadn’t you been matched with someone as caring and devoted as he. 

Albeit eternally silent. 

So you made it your own little game, to try and pry a smile out of him with your quips, or a sigh of contentment with your caresses, anytime you could. This little laugh you treasure, as it’s a sound as rare as a King without a crown, or a Valyrian without a dragon

“May I enquire, your grace, if it’s something appropriate to share with your lady wife?” 

You speak through a teasing smile and a giddy heart over the sight of his shoulders visibly relaxing and a dimple surfacing along the lines of his sharp jaw. 

“Whispers unsaid, I believe,” he murmurs cryptically, and isn’t that the understatement of the era. 

Everything that Aemond utters to you is restrained, often biting his tongue when he sees you changing into your dress in the morning, or walking down a stairwell while lifting up your skirt, like a proper princess. You wonder what he thinks of you, what passes through the intricate maze that is his mind, whenever he’s helping you put on a piece of jewelry, or tying up the laces of your slippers or squeezing your hand in his in a crowded room.

His gaze is the loudest, while his lips refrain from speaking. 

And it is indeed far too late for either of you to be up, hence why your eyelids are dropping regardless of you aching to keep admiring Aemond, so you give up on coaxing the conversation out of him and ultimately mutter, “come back to bed, husband.” 

“I’ll be there in a moment.” 

You huff in a childlike manner, inching closer to his spot on the bed to absorb the remnants of his warmth, to inhale that characteristic scent that emanates from the crown of his head, imprinted on the pillow. 

“You know I can’t sleep without you,” you dare confess. Only in the hour of the owl did you let these kinds of truths spill. 

It’s true, you cannot. Not when your lives are marked by unrelenting stress, impending danger. He’s your anchor, at the end of the day. In his arms you seek the safety and softness that you need after so much endurance and you dread the moment he’ll be yanked away to war. 

He nods and finally joins you, immediately cradling your face to his neck before his arms envelop you. 

In a dreamy haze, you mumble, “one day you’ll have to tell me all about what you write…is it fiction? Is it prose? Are you writing about how you secretly despise your wife?” you yawn, making him humm amusedly before he’s lulling you to sleep by tracing his fingers all along your spine until you’re no longer conscious. 

– 

First you hear all the clattering noises about the room before you fully awaken, and the next thing you register is the lack of a firm body against your own under the covers.  

Groggily, you call for his name, over and over again and louder each time until a pair of hands frame your face and thin lips tenderly plant themselves on your forehead. 

“What’s going on?” you’re greeted first thing at dawn to a room bathed by shadows except for his sapphire eye, as bright as the sun.   

“Off to clean up after Aegon’s messes, as always.”   

“When will you be back?” one of your hands joins his atop your cheek as your brain tries to process what he’s saying, and you’re hit with the realization that he’ll be away from you for Gods know how long.  

“I’ve no way of knowing. But I promise I’ll come back to you as soon as I’m able.” 

“Promise me,” you plead, staring intently at his right eye and feeling the tiniest bit of relief when you see it twinkling with affection. 

He nods before his touch leaves your face until he’s got a hold of your hand with both of his, depositing something right into it that he seals with one final kiss.  

“If you need me, my lady, look under the dresser. There’s a chest there with something I think you might enjoy.”     

You realize there’s a key dangling from a silver chain left in your open palm.

Before you can even question him, he gives you one last longing stare,  and leaves out the door. 

His last message doesn’t fully sink in as you’re more preoccupied with burying your head in your husband’s pillow.

And it isn’t until the end of this day – an excruciating one without his presence – that you kneel down to retrieve a heavy treasure chest made out of fine silver, which unlocks by the turn of the key that had been resting around your neck. 

You bring it with you to the bed to study its contents, soon to realize that it contains piece after piece of paper, with dates inked on the corners, going back as far as the day you were officially married. 

Your heart takes on a galloping beat as you read, as you go through each of Aemond’s secret letters to you. 

“My lady, we are officially wed. I am eternally grateful to my mother and father for having agreed upon bethroding me to you. I’d had my eye on you for a long time. I’m almost certain they noticed for I’m not entirely discreet – aiding their final decision. I look to the fates that have been bestowed on the rest of my family and while I would have fulfilled my duty with honor, I am relieved and overjoyed that I get to be by your side until the end of our days. The only thing that frightens me is you becoming bored of my existence. I know I’m not the liveliest of princes, but I hope I can convey the affection that I hold for you in the best way that I can. You are the loveliest in the whole court – in the whole kingdom. I’m most fortunate to be yours.” 

“Dear wife, you drive me wild. I wish there was a way to bottle up the sound of your laughter and your moans. It’s exquisite. I wish to keep it, turn it into an elixir to help me soothe the stress of my days if you are ever not around. Please, never stop whispering in my ear, never stop cutting your giggles short for fear of appearing childish. I yearn to hear you, I aim to please you, to make a home right in between your legs so you’ll always be pleased, and in turn, I’ll get to hear you. You hold utmost power over me, and you don’t even know it.” 

“My darling, it’s the little things that make me adore you, so. The way your body elongates when you stretch out your limbs, first thing in the morning, and how the sun forms a halo around your hair as it peeks through our blinds. The way you lick your lips when I’m changing clothes after training, or when I step inside our rooms after a bath. It’s the intensity in your loving gaze, looking at me as if I still had both of my eyes – how you’ve never recoiled from the sapphire that replaces one of them. But I especially love the way your body curls around mine when we’re together in bed. I want to keep you that way, forever in my arms.”  

Your heart swells with each letter and some even manage to heat you up from inside out, igniting a coiling around the pit of your stomach that has you all flustered like the young maiden you no longer were. 

“Wife of mine, your beauty is truly sublime, at every hour of every day, no matter what garments you wear. Although I’m most keen on the kinds of dresses that are tight at the waist and make your breasts all plump and inviting. I both relish to show you off at court so that everyone can see that you’re mine, but loathe how the Watch Guards ogle at you. You’re mine, mine alone. Your every curve is mine to hold and fondle. Only I get to see what’s underneath. And that, my lady wife, is my preferred state to see you in. Naked before my eyes alone, sprawled on the bed with your legs opening up to welcome me in. It’s sublime, I repeat. How tightly you cling to me, how intensely do you pulse around my girth while your nails claw at my back. The day I lay on my deathbed, by Gods, I wish to see such a sight as I take my final breath.”  

You’re poorly fanning yourself with your palm while walking a frantic circle around your room as you’re turning Aemond’s words around in your head.

So this is what goes through your love’s mind. 

So this is what he’s been keeping from you.

There’s a whole universe contained in his mind that he can only let out through paper and ink. And now you’re even more desperate to have him here, to hold him and dote on him and compensate for all the words that fail to come out of his mouth when they're so eloquently handwritten.

On this night you don’t sleep. You’re up ‘till morrow comes and the air is crisp and you’ve gone through every single one of his letters – landmarks of your rather short time as a wedded couple, and pieces of the puzzle that used to be Aemond’s perception of you. 

You’re still deeply immersed in your frenzy, for five more sunsets and sunrises until finally, you hear the lock of your bedchambers turning, and in comes your husband, bruised and battle-worn and perplexed for a second as you’re immediately on him, wrapping yourself tightly to him and peppering kisses on the corner of his lip until he catches them with his mouth. 

“I love you, husband.” You exhale. 

After a moment he replies, with the first full grin you see on his face without saying anything whatsoever.   

Though that doesn’t trouble you anymore.  

You simply return his key and eagerly lead him to his desk where he finds a brand new stack of the finest paper, blank and awaiting to receive his next stream of thoughts.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #female reader #reader insert fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #ewan mitchell #my writing

[thesimpire]

“Couple’s Spat,” [multi]

Prompt: what the monster trio does after an argument with their s/o.

Luffy:

• genuine fights between the two of you are very rare. Though Luffy’s antics can lean on the side of obnoxious, it is difficult to be truly angry or annoyed at him.

• on the rare occasions that the two of you do get caught up in a heated verbal altercation, it’s due to disagreement over Luffy’s stubbornness; particularly if he’s made a choice that you disagree with and feel he shouldn’t have made.

• Luffy has no filter when it comes to what he says, and his words can actually border on hurtful and insensitive. This is a common occurrence when the two of you argue, and it never fails to have you storming off wiping away tears with your hands.

• Luffy, though normally optimistic and exuberant, is passionate to a fault, and therefore he feels anger very deeply. He’ll be quite angry at you, wondering why you even felt the need to question him (you trust him, right?) and it will take him some time to cool off.

• when Luffy finally cools off and decides to patch things up, it’s in a very Luffy way.

• sometimes he will directly apologize, but other times he will show regret through actions. Things that most people would find insignificant, such as risking a kick to the leg just to sneak heaps of your favorite snack/food out to you in apology, actually mean the world to you, because you know the depth of the gesture when it comes from Luffy. And the Luffy cuddles as the two of you share said stolen treat are the warmest you’d ever felt.

Zoro:

• there are certain aspects to Zoro’s personality that would pretty clearly allow for easy arguments; namely, his aversion to feelings and his difficulty communicating them.

• this is what a majority of your fights generally break out over. Zoro doesn’t quite understand your need for affection and security, or your insistence for clear communication of emotions and feelings and needs.

• Zoro doesn’t see the point; he thinks the two of you will be fine without being too vulnerable with one another — and that the two of you should just be happy and love one another for what you two are and what you already give to the other.

• you clearly disagree with this, and some pretty harsh words can be spat at one another as a result. However, usually at about the half way point of the altercation, Zoro realizes that the fighting is pointless. He loses the will to continue with it, and will stalk off right in the middle of your side. It’s infuriating, and more times than not, you storm off too, leaving many things unsaid and issues unresolved.

• the waiting period between you and Zoro is usually drastic — a day at least to three days at most. During that time, you’ll be snappy with each other, always quipping and biting at one another, up until the point you finally decide to drop the act and just make up.

• it’s an even fifty-fifty on who approaches who for the make up, but when Zoro does it, he’s surprisingly tender and sweet. He waits for the moment that the two of you can have a bubble of privacy, and he will wrap his arms around you and pull you snug into his chest, without so much as a word.

• Zoro doesn’t need to use his words, though. Everything he wants to say is clearly vocalized through his touches, his arms around you and his lips on your head, the soft strokes through your hair and the way his arm will tighten ever so slightly around your waist, as if he was suddenly bitten with the fear that you would disappear.

Sanji:

• Sanji is a lover, not a fighter; at least when it comes to his s/o.

• Sanji is adoring and attentive, to a point that he’s sometimes more in tune with what you’re feeling than even you yourself, and he knows how to respond in kind.

• you’re tired? Sanji will quite literally tuck you into bed, even going as far as clambering in with you and holding you in his arms so that you have no choice but to fall asleep and get rest.

• you’re feeling blue? Sanji will surprise you with most delicious sweet heralding the most intricate aesthetic, and then he will hand feed it to you until your mood has lifted.

• you’re feeling angry? Sanji will coax you to vent to him until everything is melted off your chest, even if it’s just over a bunch of small things that you figured he shouldn’t care too much about.

• the two of you have a bond that’s very strong, full of love and adoration and understanding, and therefore, your relationship is generally very fluid and and smooth.

• but it’s not always rainbows and sunshine, because Sanji has a tendency to lay the charm on nearly every woman he meets. You’d grown quite used to him doing so to Nami, understanding that his affections ran only as deep as friendship, but when you’d see sanji striking up the charm with another woman, you can’t help but feel insecure.

• generally, you won’t immediately bring this up to Sanji; but he will sense it, just like always. If you’re with others, he will pull you away to a private corner to ask if you’re okay, and if he happens to sense it when you’re already alone, he’ll do the same thing, albeit with touches that are slightly more intimate than the ones he uses in public.

• when you explain to Sanji exactly what has you upset, he’s immediately gathering you in his arms and rattling off all the things he loves about you. He will make sure that every bit of insecurity you’re feeling is melted away. With Sanji, no fight truly ensues, because there’s no need for one — he made you feel this way, and even if it wasn’t intentional, he will always regret doing so, and he does everything in his power to make it up to you.

A/n: if you enjoyed these little headcanons, please consider liking/reblogging/commenting. Reader interaction is the biggest blessing to a writer, and it’s so appreciated <33 thank you all!

#opla sanji #opla fanfiction #opla x reader #opla Luffy #opla Zoro #opla zoro x reader #opla luffy x reader #opla sanji x reader #opla headcanons

[justauthoring]

there's literally no canon compliant fics for choso out there and i aim to change that :)

also, shush—you're a curse and he's a curse and you two love each other <3

-

"choso?"

your hand stretches out towards him, chest tightening with worry. his eyes are shut and there's blood around him and he's not moving, so you're fearing the worst because—

but he wakes with a startle. a loud gasp that has you stepping back in fear, watching as his eyes rapidly flicker around until they settle on you.

"i have to go."

it's the first thing he says. no explanation. just the rushed words as he pushes himself to his feet and you're sat there, stunned, your heart racing madly in your chest and so loud that you can hear it thundering in your mind.

"wh-what?"

but he's already moving to take off.

you're quick, reaching forward with a speed you're not sure you've ever possessed, grasping him by the wrist with a tightening grip. he pulls away instinctively, until he glances back and meets your gaze and really sees you there.

realizes it's you.

"y/n..." your name is uttered in a breathless whisper, his eyes still wide with panic—a panic you're confused by.

"what's happening?" you breath, eyes wild, shaking your head. "where do you have to go? choso, things have happened—su-sukuna came and jogo...—"

choso shifts, turning to face you fully. his body turns to you and his face falls serious, eyes narrowing down at you as he moves to cup your cheeks.

"he lied."

but it just confuses you more.

"who?"

"geto," choso hisses. "yuji... itadori yuji. he's my brother."

and it's the very last thing you expected to hear. "sukuna's vessel?" you argue, gripping his arms and squeezing. "what are you talking about? there's no way—"

"he is."

and choso's never lied. he's never tricked you. that's not who is, at least not with you. his words are certain, his voice determined and his eyes set and he stares at you without an ounce of doubt in his eyes.

and you've never not once trusted choso.

"itadori is my little brother."

you frown, your mind still baffled as you furrow your brows. "choso... if you help him, we'd be betraying..." and your words trail, left better unsaid. you don't need to say it.

choso knows.

"we?"

your eyes fall on his. "you think id choose them over you?"

and he frowns, solemn. "i hope not."

"of course i wouldn’t" you profess, words desperate to convey how much you mean them. "i'd never leave you. you're all i have."

"i have to," choso whispers, gesturing back to what he said before. "he's my brother. it's my duty as his older brother."

and you're still confused. of course you are. choso hasn't really explained anything, least of all how sukuna's vessel could possibly be his younger brother. but he doesn't need to for you to believe him—since the very first moment you met him, you put all your faith into him.

you didn't plan on changing that now.

"okay."

he blinks down at you.

"okay," you nod, forcing a smile. "let's go."

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Come Back to You | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Jungkook is going off to war but you can't let him go without telling him... Pairing: Reader x Soldier Jungkook Word Count: 670 because I cried the whole time and wanted to stop. Warning: Explicit language and angst :( a/n: Yeah no I didn't think I would cry as much as I did after seeing Jungkook's/the last BTS live until Jin comes back so yeah I figured I would channel some of that into writing really quick. Obviously written in one sitting and idk it's kinda shit but oh well lmao.

"Get out of here, just go"

"Please just let me explain" he begs chasing after me into my apartment building. "You had plenty of time to explain and instead you decide to tell me that you're leaving in the morning and you're not sure if you're coming back" I say getting even more upset. "How was I supposed to tell you when you kept ignoring my calls and messages and then when I finally got the chance to see you it would only be in places where we couldn't have private conversations" he explains. 

"Oh, so now it's my fault?" I question as I unlock my door and leave it open, still letting him in even though all I want to do is shut him out. "That's not what I meant" he says softly, closing it behind us and lowering his voice since he no longer has to chase after me. "Then what did you mean Jungkook? That you felt like you had no choice but to leave things left unsaid until there was no going back? Jungkook I love you" I yell, tears stinging my eyes, threatening to fall. "I love you too" he reciprocates. 

"No Jungkook, I'm in love with you" I say now with a softer voice as well, hating that he had to find out like this. "I know I've always said we're just friends and that's all that we were ever going to be but I can't keep saying that because I am suffocating" I admit, finally letting some tears fall and quickly wiping them away, mad and sad and embarrassed and heartbroken and a whole other range of emotion that a human could possibly go through in moments like this. 

"I've been in love with you for years and you've known that all this time. Why didn't you tell me when you realized that you felt the same way?" he says trying to take a step towards me but I in turn take a step back. "I didn't realize it until now. As much as I fucking hate to say it, you never know how much you love something until it's gone" I say, letting the tears fall freely, mad that I let myself be so immature, keeping all of these emotions inside of me for too long. 

"I won't be gone forever though" he says trying to take another step towards me and me again taking another step back. "Jungkook you're going off to war, you can't just say things like that" I let out, trying to keep my voice level. "People go off to war to serve and come back safely all the time. I don't think it'll be any different for me" he says, his voice soft and reassuring. 

"And what if you don't huh? What if this really is the last time I see you?" I say, getting frustrated with him all over again. "But it won't be" "YOU DON'T KNOW THAT" I yell, all of the anger and frustration built up inside of me bursting at the seams. Not caring about my want for space anymore he rushes over and pulls me in, almost crushing me from his tight embrace. "I don't want to lose you" I sob, my whole body losing it's strength as he guides both of us onto the floor and has me straddle him so he can hold me closer. 

"Shh, shhh" he soothes, tears of his own starting to fall, losing the strong resolve that he had tried to keep up for my sake. "I love you" I sob, hoping that this will somehow make a difference in the outcome. "I'll come home as soon as I can. I promise" he says running his hand along my back. "What if you can't make it back? What if they keep you there for years and you stop putting in the effort to come home?" I say, breaking even more if that's even possible.

"I will never stop trying to find a way to come back to you"  

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[roostersgirlfriendlovesf1]

you're losing me | charles leclerc

prompt: charles has been off the past couple of weeks and all y/n wants to do is help him, but what can she do when he won't open up? it's tiring feeling alone, but it's hard to speak up. will charles finally let her in or will it be the end?

warnings: angst and sadness, but it ends up ok lol

a/n: hey guys! this is just a one part story, but i would really love some prompts. please feel free to request anything! i write for bradley bradshaw, lando norris, charles leclerc, mason mount, jake sersein, and christian pulisic. i also love using songs as inspo so pls feel free to use a song as a prompt! thanks for the support!

The past couple of weeks had been a game of if Charles would speak when he got home or not. The endless amounts of sympathy y/n gave him didn’t seem to open him up. She thought that perhaps he would let himself enjoy life over the summer break, but she doesn’t think he has even said four words to her. The past few days he had left early for runs, climbing out of bed and getting back into it without so much as a squeak of a floorboard. Nightly rituals between them had been forgotten.  This was only their third month… She thought. There were so many things left unsaid between them, things that she felt unimportant to tell him. Things she thought could be seen as coming off “too strong.” But she was extremely tired of feeling alone. She missed his arm around her as they watched the Monaco skies, she missed the smell of his hair after he showered, and she just missed the sound of his voice. Her clothes in his drawers dedicated to her started to feel misplaced. She felt like her presence started to feel like an intrusion. She was practically living with him, but it started to feel like she should be paying rent. 

y/n sat on a barstool, waiting for Charles to come back from running whatever errand he hadn’t told her about. Her head was in her hands as she stared lazily out the window, dark clouds were forming. Click. The door opened. She looked at him, urging him to speak. He looked at her, a quick glance before walking into their room. She heard the water start running in the shower. A tight feeling formed in her throat. How can he not see there’s a problem?  She placed her head in her hands and allowed herself to shed a few tears. A few minutes went by before the sound of footsteps interrupted her silence. She picked her head up. “Charlie?” She tries to get his attention. No answer. Nothing new. She’s not sure she even remembers what it sounds like when he says her name. A sigh leaves his mouth.

“Yes?”

“Where are you going?” She asked, just a simple question.

“Out to dinner.” He tied his shoes. 

Please just look at me. Please just see that there is something wrong. A brief moment of silence. “Somethings not working.” She bit her nails.

“I don’t understand.” He shook his head, dismissing her statement.

“I know you don’t.” Her brows furrowed. This can still be fixed. Everything we built can still stand. “Charles, you haven’t said four words to me since you’ve gotten home. Hell, you’ve barely talked to me for weeks. I don’t know what to do!”

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“You haven’t even touched me.” The room once filled with light felt cold and empty.

“Didn’t know you needed that validation.” He mumbled. 

“A hug is seen as validation? A fucking hug from someone I haven’t seen or spoken to because he won’t respond whether it’s in person or over the phone!” Just pull me into a hug now, all will be forgotten. Please just hold me. 

“I don’t have time for this right now.” Disappointment. 

“It's now or never. I’ve given you the best I have.” Tell me what to give after that. Her voice caught. She stood, feeling vulnerable in his sweatshirt and his sweatpants. Silence again. Silence that he was not willing to break. “Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll be out of here by the time you get home. I just-” She ran a hand through her hair, “I just need a bit to gather my things.” Guilt panged in her chest, the feeling of being an intruder tearing through her. She held her head high as she walked into their room, grabbing an empty box from beside the trash. 

“Y/n.” He stood in the doorframe. She willed herself to continue packing, despite her longing for his voice. “Y/n.”

“Enough!” She slammed the shirt she had started folding into the box. “Just go to dinner.”

“I didn’t fucking ask you to stay through anything!” He snapped. “I don’t need to see you or feel your embrace every time I come home from a shitty race weekend.”

“Good because it's never happening again! You won’t ever have to see me again after tonight.” The sound of thunder caused her to flinch. Charles’ face softened as he glanced out the window. 

“You can’t leave tonight.” He shook his head.

“I’ll do whatever I want.” She seethed. She kept her head down, making no eye contact. “You’ll do whatever you want tomorrow when the storm clears.” He stated. Y/n held her breath until she felt his presence dissolve. The sound of his footsteps led her to believe he went to his sim room. She shut the door quietly before breaking down. Her face felt burning hot as she rapidly shoved clothes into a random backpack. She frantically tried to collect herself before stepping back into the living room. She held a box in her arms as she struggled to open the apartment door. Rain poured as she sheltered under the overhang of the building. Her heart pounded, all she wanted to do was get out of his way. Y/n made a run for her car and quickly opened the trunk, shoving the box inside before slamming it closed and heading back inside. The lighting of the apartment was dark as the natural lighting was miniscule. Charles had moved to the couch, a solemn look in his eyes as he scrolled on his phone. He glanced up to see y/n drenched in rain. “Mon coeur…” He watched her as she ignored him and kept walking back to their room. He followed her, attempting to talk, but was quickly denied as she reached their bathroom and quickly locked the door. 

Y/n peeled off the wet clothes and glanced at herself in the mirror. A quick rush of feeling came back to her as she let out a sob, steadying herself on the sink counter. The coldness of the rain washed off of her as she bathed in the warmth of the shower, although the tears never ceased to flow. How does she pick up her life after this? The relationship was so public, that doesn’t just fizzle out. 

She walked into the bedroom, towel wrapped around her. Charles was sitting at the foot of the bed, feet planted, head in hands. She quietly grabbed her undergarments, a shirt, and a pair of sleep shorts from the bag she had packed earlier and retreated back into the bathroom. She never did that. Charles thought. She never hid herself away instead of doing something so intimate as changing her clothes in front of him. She changed in the bathroom and washed her face. Y/n opened the bathroom door slowly and noticed Charles in the same position. “I’m so embarrassed.” He spoke. 

“Now you talk…” She whispered. 

“I’m so fucking emberassed with myself I can’t stand it.” He held the end of the sleeves of his sweater in his hands. “I know I don’t deserve you and I know I’ve treated you horribly. There’s no excuse.” He kept his composure. “My team is just so-so aggravating and for a while I viewed you as my escape from all that, but the more interested in me you got and the more you wanted to know the more I grew embarrassed. I’m embarrassed with my performance in the car and I’m embarrassed for you to see that I’m undeserving of you. I never wanted to tear you down with me though.”

Her mouth opened to speak, but her body moved first. She sat down next to him and pulled him into a hug. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Me too.” She kissed the side of his face.

“I love you.” He brushed the wet hair off of her face. “And I really don’t want you to leave.”

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1

[deathbecomesthem]

Ready, Steady, Go

MINORS DNI - STRICTLY 18+

*This is a reupload from my old blog. If you think it looks familiar, it's because it probably is.

Part 2 of Three's Company

wc: 2.8K

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Everyone is about age 30 in this one, think mid to late 90s. This chapter is Steve Harrington x Reader smut.

A/N: This is a Steddie x Reader story, but this chapter is the first time that Steve and the reader are intimate with one another, one on one, without their mutual lover Eddie.

Contains: Poly relationship dynamics, smut (oral and vaginal), and lots of feelings. It's so soft guys.Keep reading

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Steve and Eddie have maneuvered through their relationship quietly. They’re still long time roommates to many of the people in their lives. They don’t hide themselves away, but they don’t invite many people in either. It’s not just for their personal safety, but their emotional well being is a priority. Sometimes, it’s too much to bear to think about losing a dear friend or family member for just being who they are.

What no one had really considered before opening the relationship to add you in was the fact that you made it possible for them to go places together that otherwise might be viewed with suspicion. There was no point in focusing on the injustice of that, bitterness can turn a good thing sour. No one wants that. The three of you are finding ways to fit your lives together, and so far it’s been shockingly natural. With love at the center, the rest seems to just fall into place.

So, why are you so nervous right now? A weekend alone with Steve isn’t something out of the ordinary - but this is the first time the two of you will be alone since you’ve been intimate. Eddie has always been there until now. What if there’s nothing without your shared love to hold onto? It’s a niggling fear that flits to the forefront of your thoughts when you least expect it. What if this is the way the end begins. 

You’re sitting in the chair in the corner of Eddie’s bedroom watching him pack his bag. He’s leaving in a half an hour, Eddie’s never been good at planning ahead. Unsaid concerns have turned into a lump in your throat. You can only sit and watch him move from the closet to the bed, snapping his fingers together when he remembers an item or two that he almost forgot to pack. And then he breaks the silence.

“What do you and Stevie have planned this weekend? I’ll miss you two so much.” Eddie’s tucking a fourth pair of black jeans into the corner of the suitcase, far too many for the three days he’ll be gone. He’s likely to forget to pack any socks, but have enough pants to last a month.

“Oh,” you pull your legs up to rest your feet on the edge of the chair. You’re pulling yourself in, making yourself small, “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it. I might just spend some time by myself.”

Eddie slows his movements and sighs a little to himself before saying, “I thought it might be nice if you two spent some time alone together.” Eddie moves toward you, and drops down to his knees in front of you. He lays his head in your lap, “I know you both, and I love you both. I see it, ya know? There can be more between the two of you, if you let it happen.”

You don’t respond, but you let the words roll around in your head while you run your fingers through his hair. Yes, he’ll only be gone for a couple of days, a short weekend trip to visit Wayne and go fishing, but you ache at the thought of his absence. He is your heart. For him, you will try. And for yourself, too.

—

Steve comes home an hour after Eddie’s already gone. You make a point to be sitting in the kitchen with a pot of oolong when he walks through the door. A loaf of banana bread is cooling on a wire rack on the counter, a treat you know he can’t resist. 

“Hey,” Steve’s smile is wide when he catches sight of you. He kicks his shoes off by the door and heads over to kiss your head in his usual greeting. “Oh, ho ho, is that what I think it is?” 

“Mmm, yes it is. Fresh out of the oven. Look at what a good little homemaker I am.” You flutter your eyes at him and smile. “Let’s have some and spoil our dinner. I made tea.”

Steve immediately gets to work pulling out small plates from the overhead cupboard, and setting the butter dish on the kitchen table. You see him breathe in the smell of the bread deeply when he cuts the first slice, it’s still warm enough that steam rises from the loaf when the knife cuts through it.

You love seeing him like this. Steve finds the joy in these little things, and even before the dynamic shifted between the two of you, offering Steve little treats was always one of your favorite things. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m not complaining.” He sits down and melts into the chair. His glasses fog when he takes his first sip of tea. You’re studying him, watching the way he tastes the bread and drinks his tea. You watch the muscles in his jaw. You watch him suck the crumbs off his thumb. He really is very pretty.

You ignore the fear inside you, and do what feels natural. You sneak your foot over to his, and rub the arch of his foot with your big toe. He grins at you through the still foggy lenses. His other foot rubs the side of yours. This game of footsie while you eat banana bread at 5:30 on a Friday evening feels more intimate than when you swallow each other's moans under the covers of Eddie’s bed.

“What do you want to do tonight, Steve?” You pinch the top of his foot with your toes in conjunction with the question. Playful and light to hide the anxiety. Because you don’t have plans with Steve tonight, and you don’t have the kind of comfortable relationship that you and Eddie share where time together is a natural thing that just happens.

“Tonight? Oh, I don’t know,” there’s genuine surprise in his voice, as if the idea that the night might come never occurred to him. “What about you, Honey? Think you might want some company?”

Honey. The name is warm and sticky, it sends a tingle down your spine. It’s better suited for the man sitting across from you, with his gold flecked irises and the amber highlights threading through his graying hair. Never mind his sticky sweet nature.

“That would be just the thing, Stevie. I’m already lonely with our sweet muppet gone. We can keep each other company, hm?” 

Steve sits up straight, lighting striking him, “Oh! I know what we can do.” He jumps out of his chair and strides over to the drawer next to the dishwasher. He fiddles around in it, and pulls out a paper menu. It’s the place around the corner that Eddie hates. You tried to make him love the unique dish that reminds you of home, but he turned his nose up at it. The same man that eats Vienna sausages and Velvetta won’t even try a plate of the surprisingly complex dish that is Cincinnati chili.

“You just scored big points, Stevie. Throw in a couple of cannoli from Angelo’s, and I’m yours forever.” 

—

With full bellies, it was natural the way you fit into his side while the blue glow of the television screen played your favorite John Hughes film. Steve’s hand runs up and down your arm, but his eyes stay on the screen - he loves these kinds of movies, and it’s rare when he can enjoy them without the moaning of your shared boyfriend. For you and Steve, this is an experience neither of you realized you were missing. It’s warm and lovely to be with him like this. Quiet and secure. Held. And you want him more than you thought was possible. You want his hands on you. 

You’ve been in the dark with Steve and Eddie. You’ve shared the heights of pleasure with them both. But you and Steve have yet to cross the line into lovers. You’ve mapped Steve’s beautiful body with your eyes, your mouths have met in passionate kisses while Steve’s cock is inside of your boyfriend. You wonder, will he have you?

This is when you decide it’s worth the risk of rejection to see if he also wants to see where the night could take you. You turn your head and look up at his face. You can see the moles scattered across his skin under that blue light, and you speak.

“Stevie,” your voice is a whine, betraying the sudden need that’s building in your gut, “you look so pretty right now.”

The blue light of the television screen across the room flashes in the lenses of his glasses when he whips his head to face you. You can’t see his eyes, they’re obscured by the glare. Steve leaves nothing to the imagination, he doesn’t make you wonder. He takes off the acrylic frames and searches your eyes. Satisfied with what he sees, he smiles as he cups your face and leans down to kiss you.

Slow. The eagerness is there, it would be a disappointment if it was missing, but it’s slow. He’s tasting you, savoring the flavor of your lips - red wine, salty popcorn, and mint lip gloss. You think you could stay like this, open mouths searching one another, teeth scraping soft lips, forever and never tire of it. A wide palm instinctively finds the bare skin at the small of your back, a thumb strokes your spine.

“Steve,” the word released into the air between your mouths makes him dizzy. “Stevie, please.”

Steve breaks the kiss to rest his head on your forehead. The air between you is heavy and humid. Your eyes, blurry from the closeness of your faces, bore into his. Any question either  of you may have had about whether there is something between the two of you without the affection of your shared lover evaporates into the air with your shared breaths. 

“I want to see you, Honey. You’re so pretty.” Steve closes his eyes when he tells you this. And you think, how could I deny a request like that from this man. 

His eyes remain closed as you stand. You take your hand in his, and pull him to his feet. Neither of you realizes the film is still playing on the screen in the living room as you lead him down to the room at the end of the hallway. Your room. 

Steve stands and watches you while you undress. He’s seen you this way before, many times. He’s never failed to see the beauty in your form, but it’s different right now. Quiet. He can watch the way your hands move. He can see the muscles flex in your shoulder as you reach behind your back to unhook your bra. He can see each soft curve of your skin and admire them. 

Eddie isn’t a distraction. Eddie is a force of nature. Eddie is the sun. It’s easy to be blinded by him. His absence tonight allows the light to stay low, it allows movements to slow. It allows you and Steve the space to look at each other and spend the time. Your only regret is that Eddie can’t be a fly on the wall to see these quiet moments between the two loves of his life. 

You don’t feel insecure as you kick off the small piece of fabric from your ankle, letting your black panties hit the shin of Steve’s jeans. You feel powerful. He’s eating you up with his eyes. You can practically see smoke leave his nostrils when he huffs through them, lips tight. His jaw is clamped, while you crawl onto the bed, allowing him a full view of your slowly swaying ass.

“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna kill me.” Steve is still standing at the end of the bed as you present yourself, laying on your back, legs spread. Your hand roams your chest and stomach, dipping to the soft pubic hair - touching the places where you wish his hands would search.

“Stevie. Are you just gonna stand there?” Your words are soft. A hand grasps one of your breasts, squeezing it. Desperate to feel something. The open air between the two of you is too much. Steve doesn’t bother with his own clothes, his fingers are aching. They’re empty, and are desperate to feel your soft skin.

Slow. Deliberate. A steady hand travels down the valley of your chest, long fingers brushing gently across your skin. Gooseflesh erupts along their path. You’ve been holding your breath in anticipation of his touch. His attention. He’s focused on only you tonight for the first time, and you are full.

“Your skin is so soft.” Steve’s voice breaks the silence, and you release the air from your lungs. “Look at you.”

You can’t look at yourself, so you look at him. The moonlight sneaks through the blinds, reaching out for him. Bathed in moonlight, you see everything. You see him. You smell him. You feel him. Even now with his lust clouded mind, his hands are steady and searching. 

Featherlight touches travel past your navel. Your breathing hitches when he gently strokes against your already swollen clit. He continues to the silky smooth lips below, and runs up and down. He delights in every one of your hitching breaths, a crooked smile spreads across his lips.

“You’re wet, Honey, and I’m so thirsty. Can I have a drink?” 

You open your mouth to respond, but you have no words. He doesn’t wait for them, he dips his head down. He smells you. He’s smelled you before against Eddie’s skin, but from the source it’s intoxicating. He opens his mouth and keeps his eyes on you while he takes his first taste.

Steve hasn’t tasted a woman in years. He hasn’t missed it, not really. Right now, though, he cannot believe how sweet you taste. How soft your thighs feel. He can’t get over the way the fine hairs on your skin stand up with every little touch he offers. His fingers sink into the flesh of your ass as his tongue moves. You’re so slick. He can feel the way your little button grows under his tongue. His cock aches to feel you around him. 

Not yet, Steve, he reminds himself. He can feel you shuddering under him. He can see your eyes flutter. He needs you to come. You’re close. He closes his lips against your clit, and sucks gently while running his tongue against you with a persistent pressure.

Gone. You’re gone. You can feel fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass, keeping you from floating off the bed and into the air. You can imagine yourself drifting off through the vastness of space fueled by the ecstasy you feel. Your body trembles. You cry out for him, you cry out for your Stevie. Your sweet boy. 

Your cries of his name undo him. His lips are still attached to you, still letting you ride out your orgasm while one of his hands unzips his pants. His cock aches. The immediate need, releasing the painful constriction of his jeans, isn’t enough. He needs to be inside of you. Your eyes finally meet his again. 

“Please, Steve. Please. I need you inside me.” Your begging is met with a groan against your cunt. His lips let go, and you see how red they are. Swollen from their work. You rock against nothing at the sight. The slow and steady movements are gone now. Steve throws his shirt - pants - socks - boxers - to the side with speed. He’s laid bare in front of you, a marble statue brought to life. 

Your legs open to receive him, and he slots between them. Steve fills you up with the first thrust, and you’re seeing stars. You’re vaguely aware of the sound leaving your throat, something between a moan and a cry. Steve’s hand is in yours, a thumb runs against a finger in a soothing way. You both sink into each other. You both feel everything.

“You’re so soft.” Steve’s soft whisper against your neck vibrates against your skin. “So soft. You feel so good.” 

Soft words are contrasted by rough thrusts of hips desperate to push your bodies to connect as deeply as possible. Mmm, so good. So fucking good, Stevie. Steve is gone. He can’t be reached now. He’s lost in the soft flesh of your body under him. He’s used to the sharp angles of Eddie. His mind is gone, his body is moving on its own. He can feel how close he is already, lost in your warmth. 

It’s not a lightning crash. Not an earthquake. It’s soft, like every other moment between the two of you. Steve’s face in your neck, his hand gripping yours. He comes undone with your scent in his nose, and your taste on his lips. His hips slow, and you pull him tighter. You hold him close to your sweat slicked chest. You let him rest there, on your pillowy skin, bodies still joined. 

That’s how you stay that night. Holding one another, leaving the mess you both made for the daylight hours. When you wake in the morning, you find that Steve’s hand is still holding yours.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie x reader #steddie x reader smut #steddie x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader

[taeminsung]

♡ ˚⁎⁺˳ ── FU in my head..

pairing ||  hyunjin x reader summary || accompanied by you in the dance studios for hours only led hyunjin to have unvoiced wishes for you to fulfill. genre/s || angst. suggestive. mina’s notes ||  sorry not sorry. i may do part 2. please enjoy ♡ 

The beat seemed to reverberate in Hyunjin’s chest as he watched you dance in the mirror. He had promised Minho that he’d be in the studio to help train the backup dancers but never would have dreamt that you would be one of them. As Hyunjin tried to watch the other dancers, his eyes always seemed to come back to you, the way your hips moved perfectly in time. It had been months since he first met you at Music Bank while you were performing with another group, immediately becoming obsessed with the way your body moved.

At the present, he watched your lips move wondering what they would taste like. Hyunjin hyung? Felix gently elbowed him. Sorry I think I zoned out, can you say that again? Hyunjin quickly reacted, trying not to act strange. Was it obvious that he was staring at you? Probably but he would just chalk it up to he was monitoring your moves because the part before the chorus needed help. Would it be a complete lie? Absolutely. But anything to get him out of the suspicion of the other dancers.

Hours ticked by and yet here he was, still watching only you, committing the way your body moved to memory. What was he thinking? You came here to do a job, and he was sitting on the couch drooling over you. Yet, he couldn’t help it. There was something about you that was capturing him in your atmosphere and not letting him break free. Was it the way that you danced? Like calling to like? Or maybe it was fate giving him the littlest of piece an olive branch to find his other half. In truth, he wished it was fate because knowing that you existed in this world and weren’t with him would devastate him.

Days later in the late hours of the night, with others leaving to get much needed rest, he went to grab his stuff to go home with his members, only to catch you in the mirror, making your way back to the center of the room, clearly determined to get more practice in. Without a further thought, Hyunjin turned back to control the music, waving his members off with the promise that he’d return home at a somewhat reasonable time. Struggling for what to say, but he didn’t know if you could tell that, he let the music again fill the studio, focus trained on you.

It could have been because he was exhausted or because you hadn’t left his head since he first saw you in their practice room. Instead of monitoring you all he could think about was you taking him closer, slowly taking his clothes off while he finally learned how your lips tasted. Oh, how he fantasized. He would never ever let you know that he liked to fuck you in his head. It was his dirty little secret that he kept close to his chest, not even letting the members know of his fantasy of you. The kind of things that he would rather leave unsaid.

As he tried to pay attention to reality, he couldn’t let his mind wonder to those dirty wishes that crossed his mind. You touch him when he’s lonely in his bed. Fingers starting tangled in his hair, trailing painfully slow down his chest to where he wanted you most. How he was do desperate to scream but held his breath instead. Feelings your lips leave warm kisses across his chest and toned stomach, teeth grazing his skin every once in a few kisses. He craved the way you made him feel hot in the cool air of his room. What he would give to make his fantasy a reality. Sometimes all he did was fuck you in his head.

When the music abruptly ended, his eyes caught yours, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you waited for him to clearly give you a correction. Did you feel it too though? This gravitational pull towards him like he did with you. He really hoped that this wasn’t one-sided, but he could see the way you maintained professionalism with how you talked with him and the members. Are you as obsessed? Pleading with his eyes, all he needed was just a little sign, and he’d confess. He’d take you back to the dorm and make all of his daydreaming come true in moments.

from mina with love ♡ ˚⁎⁺˳ ── thank you for reading! ♡ requests are open.

#stray kids #stray kids hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin fuff #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #hyunjin x reader #skz #skz imagine #hyunjin #hyunjin headcanon #stray kids dream #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #hyunjin oneshot #hyunjin fic #stray kids fic

[m1d-45]

welcome to my masterlist!

if there’s anything you’d like to see, please send in an ask here!

here’s my original take on the logistics of sagau, as well as an update after some more information, and here’s my thoughts on how nations worship.

1k event m. list!

warnings [⏵] : yandere / heavy cultish || obsessive

genre [title] : angst || fluff || hurt/comfort

[ under maintenance ! might be a bit messy ]

traveller from afar — aether

‘I'm saying that I'm having a lot of fun traveling with you… It'd be nice if we could just go on like this forever.’

⏵ a new tomorrow

—⏵ my love, my god

the dark side of dawn — diluc

‘Diluc, of Mondstadt. Not interested in idle chit-chat. If you have things you want to get done, let me know.’

⏵ fallen through

⏵ a fault in the heart [red!]

⏵ tongue tied

windborne bard — venti

‘Perfect timing, Traveler! I was about to ask you — what is your greatest wish?’

⏵ unnamed poem, unnamed bard

⏵ in sickness and in health

⏵ (what about me?)

⏵ stella fortuna

beyond mortality — baizhu

‘Even though I'm the doctor, I've still had to trouble you with my health. How shameful... But don't worry. From this day on, I will take care of you.’

⏵ second chances

leonine vanguard — ga ming

‘If I can guard shipments, I can guard people. Since you seem to trust me, how 'bout I be your bodyguard from now on?‘

⏵ vanguard’s fortune

childe — tartaglia

‘Today was great. See you tomorrow, comrade!’

⏵ under duress

⏵ brainrot

⏵ duality of man

—⏵ inversion of fate

vigilant yaksha — xiao

‘I deal in death. If you cannot bring yourself to kill — speak my name.’

⏵ repentance

⏵ burden to bear

⏵ bird xiao things! (split links)

—⏵ and again, and fanart, and again, and again, and fanart, and fanart, and again

⏵ he who is without sin

—⏵ once more, and again, and again, and again, and again, and fanart, and again, and fanart, and fanart

⏵pari!reader tag

vago mundo — zhongli

‘The market is closed and the port has settled. Go get some rest.’

⏵ sagau!zhongli

⏵ a dragon’s gems

⏵ to dream of the divine

⏵ adorned

pillar of fortitude — ayato

‘Good morning. A little sword practice while the day is young is good for the body and mind. I tend to avoid having anything scheduled during these hours... What do you say? Fancy crossing blades with me?’

⏵ words left unsaid

analytical harmony — heizou

‘Ooh, my goodness, life's really put you through the wringer recently, hasn't it? I can tell. Here, why don't you take a seat, tell me the whole story.’

⏵ the scars, the wound

—⏵ (old) first encounters

⏵ upon a hair-thin wire

scarlet leaves pursue wild waves — kazuha

‘Ah, you'd like to learn the art of the sword? Let me see... Alright — here, take this. It's a bamboo blade I just made. With these, we can practice sparring without having to worry about getting injured.’

⏵ remorse

⏵ in a flash

⏵ the wind knows

⏵ judas

protector from afar — thoma

‘I've figured out what I want to do now. My strength is your shield, and I will always be here to protect you.’

⏵ rain or shine

admonishing instruction — alhaitham

’Don't be offended if you try to greet me on the street and I don't respond. It's simply because I'm wearing my soundproof earpieces, that's all.’

⏵ divine permanence

verdant strider — tighnari

‘What, so this sort of thing needs official documentation now? Okay then... Well, hand over your "friendship certificate." I assume it'll need my signature.’

⏵ opportunities arisen

—⏵ prime fortune

eons adrift — wanderer

’Ask me anything if you want. If a question is interesting enough, I may give you an answer.’

⏵ wandering

⏵ rest

ordainer of inexorable judgement — neuvillette

‘Good evening. I hope you have not encountered any unpleasantness today.’

⏵ for all to see

emissary if solitary antiquity — wriothesley

'Want a tip on how to escape from the Gardes? Just give yourself a name that's really long and difficult to pronounce. They'll be stumbling over your name as soon as they try to announce that you are under arrest.'

pankration

pantalone — regrator

‘Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa is actually a gentle soul. Too gentle, in fact…’

⏵ ink, ink, ink

miscellaneous / multiple

⏵ in excess (ft. zhongli + xiao)

⏵ new hopes (ft. the arataki gang)

⏵ emotions (ft. mondstat)

⏵ the young (ft. your main!)

—⏵ still too young (ft… a lot of ppl)

⏵ plagued (ft. diluc + kaeya)

⏵ reverse isekai drabble (ft. your main!)

⏵ slapfight (ft. a lot of people-)

⏵ mea maxima culpa (ft. zhongli + barbara)

⏵ in the stars (ft mona + your main!)

⏵ replacement (ft. kaeya + venti + albedo + xiao)

⏵ discretion advised (ft. mondstat)

⏵ warmth (ft. every pyro character as of 3.4)

⏵ a soft place to land (ft. zhongli + kaeya + diluc + alhaitham + tighnari)

⏵ constellations (ft. barbara + thoma + heizou + collei + kujou sara + sucrose + candace +ganyu)

⏵ connection (ft. diluc + kaeya + kazuha + albedo + kaveh)

⏵ your shield, a sword (ft. thoma + tighnari + zhongli + alhaitham + cyno + albedo)

⏵ divine favor (ft. yae miko + itto + kazuha + kaeya + chongyun + noelle)

⏵ dead leaves (ft. ..people)

—⏵ new sprouts (ft. chongyun)

⏵ the rule of threes (ft. albedo + his brother)

⏵ darling, my dear (ft. diluc + tighnari + childe + xiao + kazuha)

⏵ sandy refuge (ft. nahida + wanderer)

⏵ dancing soldiers (ft. aether)

series!

⏵ dearly beloved — complete trilogy

—⏵ on broken bones

—⏵ death, rebirth, new life

—⏵ the scottish play

⏵ abiogenesis — complete duology

—⏵ from soil…

—⏵ …was birthed chalk

⏵ secret contributions — complete trilogy

—⏵ small miracles

—⏵ hidden blessings

—⏵ silent conclusions

⏵ spoken across stars — episodic

—⏵ kaeya, diluc, thoma ft. noelle + candace

—⏵ kazuha, wanderer ft. tighnari + baizhu

—⏵ zhongli, ayato, heizou ft. xinqiu + chongyun

that’s all for now! i hope you’ve enjoyed your stay, and wish you the best. if there’s something here you particularly liked, consider letting me know with a reblog or comment; i read every single one and they mean the world. whatever the case: i bid you farewell!

(p.s.: if you spot an error like a link leading somewhere it shouldn’t, a missing post entirely, etc., please leave a reply/ send in an ask to let me know as chances are i will not notice it. thank you!)

— midas

#genshin sagau #sagau #zhongli #sagau zhongli #zhongli x reader #kaedehara kazuha #sagau kazuha #sagau kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #shikanoin heizou #sagau heizou #heizou x reader #tighnari #sagau tighnari #tighnari x reader #childe #sagau childe #childe x reader #xiao #sagau xiao #sagau kuki shinobu #sagau arataki itto #sagau thoma #thoma x reader #sagau kaeya #sagau ayato #sagau ayaka #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayaka #sagau venti