#Fluff and Angst

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 5 Nevermore

Chp. 5 Summary: It's hard to understand why everything feels so right. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, language, heavy kissing, unprotected piv sex, semi-rough sex, creampie, praise kink, (kinda) size kink, aftercare, fluff and a LOT of angst, light banter, lots of emotions, mentions of past trauma, brief flashback of trauma, another cliffhanger (sorry) A/N: Well, if you're here, I hope you're prepared for what's coming. A HUGE shoutout to @loonmartell for helping co-conspire the trajectory of this story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it as always <3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in—

“Miss Smith?” 

Your head jerked up at the sound, and the pencil you were drawing circles with fell against your desk. Bradley, one of your students, was standing at the edge of your desk with his test in hand.

“Sorry about that, sweetie,” you smiled, extending a hand. “Thank you.”

Bradley eyed you curiously before turning and skipping back to his desk. You dragged a hand over your face, wanting to crawl into the furthest corner of the world and never be seen again. Beth’s words had been plaguing you for days since you called her. Over and over again, they annihilated your thoughts, a constant broken record that you couldn’t shut off. You still had your nightly calls with Joel, talking past midnight and falling asleep together, but you kept making excuses not to see him. 

“I’ve got lesson plans to make,” you lied.

“I’ll help,” Joel had offered.

“You’re a distraction.”

“I ain’t that bad,” he huffed.

The next night, you lied and said you were going out with Maria, which was an even worse lie since you were avoiding her at all costs. Telling Beth the news was one thing, but telling Maria was another matter. She was nosey and a bit too loud-mouthed to trust. The last thing you wanted was for the entire faculty to know your dirty secrets. Joel had to remain a secret—at least for now.

It’s not like you wanted to avoid Joel; you were just scared. You were not ready for this new territory, and if Beth was anywhere near correct in her assumptions, it only made you want to shy away more. The only problem was parent-teacher conferences this week, meaning you’d have to see Joel and Sarah…together.

The class bell rang, and your free period between classes began. You dropped your head on the desk and took a few deep breaths, trying to wrangle some semblance of calm back into your body. The final class of the day would be Sarah’s, and you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to see her. The blaring reminder that her dad had fucked you sore over the weekend still hung over your head, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for it. How was your fall break, Sarah? Oh yeah, mine was great. Your dad fucked me so hard I ended up having a complete breakdown. 

Fuck. 

You wanted the day to be over. 

The free period went by much faster than you wanted, and as you watched the next slew of kids take their seats, you made a conscious effort not to stare at Sarah as she walked in. She wore her usual smile, the impression of her dimples digging into her cheeks. Some wild thought popped into your head that you had no time to recover from: if you and Joel went any further, God help you, you’d be Sarah’s step-mom one day. Your stomach rolled with nausea as you tried to will those thoughts away. Joel wouldn’t stick around that long; you were a lost cause. There was no chance that would happen. Right? 

Clearing your throat, you rose from your desk and made your way over to the projector to set up the lesson for the day. Since the school year was nearing Halloween, you decided it would be fun to teach Edgar Allen Poe, completely forgetting you had chosen “The Raven”—which was about losing someone. This would have a bite to it that you weren’t ready for.

“Okay, everyone,” you announced. “Did we all finish the reading assignment this week?”

There were a few nods and murmurs of agreement, and you quickly shifted to the first few slides of your presentation. 

“Alright, so who can tell me the overall theme for Poe’s ‘The Raven’?”

Georgia, one of your top students, shot her hand up without a beat.

“Yes, Georgia?”

“It’s about his grief for losing Lenore,” she answered.

“Good,” you smiled. Can anyone tell me what other theme the poem contains?”

“Madness!” Another student chimed in, causing an uproar of laughter amongst the students.

“Okay, okay, settle down. Very good, you guys.”

You switched to the next slide, staring blankly at the words typed out. Lenore is gone forever. Something struck you as you silently read it, realizing you weren’t too far off from Poe in his grief. Although Bennett wasn’t dead, he wasn’t coming back. That fact hadn’t hurt as deeply throughout the last few weeks, especially with Joel around, but it still threw salt in the open wounds still scattered over your heart. 

“In stanza two,” you cleared your throat. “In stanza two, Poe refers to Lenore as ‘nameless,’ which can imply that she has died, and he’s now consumed with grief. Where else did you guys find his grief prominent?”

Georgia quickly raised her hand again, and you motioned for her to speak. 

“In stanza four, he talks about his dreams, which I think he means he’s dreaming of her to return to him. But if she’s dead, there’s no way she’s going to come back,” Georgia said.

Fuck. You felt the sting of tears rim your eyes and briefly paused to gather your bearings. Bennett left. He left, and you had spent years dreaming he would return. 

“Good,” you choked out.

You glanced around the room, your eyes connecting with Sarah’s. It took all your strength not to break down and cry as she studied you with the same concerned furrow in her brows as her dad would do. 

Clicking to the next slide, you exhaled, focusing on the following theme to discuss. Madness. 

“Now, with the theme of madness, where do we see this begin? Obviously, the dreams can be interpreted as his descent into madness, but what else do we find?” You asked. 

To your detriment, Sarah was the one to raise her hand.

“Sarah,” you sighed, nodding.

“It’s the raven,” she said plainly. “The raven is what drives him mad.”

“What does he do to drive Poe mad?” You questioned.

“The raven only says one word,” she explained. “And that word drives him mad until the end of the poem.

“And why does it drive him mad?”

Sarah shifted in her seat, looking around at her classmates before responding.

“Because it’s the answer Poe doesn’t want to hear. Poe doesn’t want to be reminded that Lenore is dead, but that’s the only response the raven will give.”

You were swaying in place, trying to hold yourself together as the memories started ricocheting back into your mind. Now wasn’t the time to collapse, not in front of twenty students staring at you, confused and concerned. You only responded with a nod and flipped the projector off.

“Good job, you guys. Now, does anyone have any questions on this unit? Any questions about the stanza format or the themes?”

Sarah raised her hand again.

“Did his madness kill him?” She asked.

“Who?”

“Poe.”

“Oh, um, no. Well, it’s a mystery, really. Some people say he died of delirium, so, I guess, madness. But other people speculate he drank himself to death.”

The class grew morbidly quiet, which made it harder for you to continue. No one else spoke up after Sarah, so you resorted to handing out the quiz and sinking back into your desk chair.

One by one, the students came up to turn in their quiz, and you averted your gaze each time with a nonchalant ‘thank you.’ When the final bell finally sounded through the room, you hardly had the energy to wave goodbye. 

Sarah was the last to leave, and that same concerned look lingered on her face as she shuffled out. 

That night, you didn’t pick up the phone when Joel called. You stared as it rang repeatedly, watching the light fade from the screen when the ringing stopped. You buried your head under the covers and tried to sleep, but then the nightmares started.

You woke up to your alarm, hyperventilating and drenched in sweat. Squinting at the morning sun streaming through the blinds, you grabbed your phone to check the time. Your fingers froze as you read the screen.

Seven missed calls from Joel

Two voicemails from Joel

With shaky fingers, you pressed play on the first voicemail.

“Hey baby, it’s me. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I’m hopin’ you’re just asleep, but if you’re up, please call me.”

Then you played the next.

“Baby, it’s me again. I miss you, and I’m worried ‘bout you. Please don’t shut me out, okay? I just wanna hear your voice and hear ‘bout your day. If you don’t wanna talk, that's okay. I understand. Just please lemme know you’re alright. I’ll drive my ass out to you if I need to just to make sure you’re okay. Call me when you get this. G’night, baby.”

You dug your knuckles into your eyes to try and force the tears back. Last night, you had the worst of the nightmares: the memory of something you tried to forget. You hadn’t touched that memory in so long. It was just the brutal realization you were truly at fault for everything with Bennett. No matter how badly you wanted to blame him, it was always your fault. 

Glancing back at your phone, you rechecked the time: 7:35. Fuck, you were running late, and you really didn’t want to call Joel back right now. At least not right now. You’d muster the energy and strength to do it later, but you needed to gather yourself and get ready for work right now. Tossing off the sweat-slick sheets, you rushed into the bathroom and quickly showered. You couldn’t bother to put makeup on, so you opted to go without it and found a simple dress to wear. It was still in the high eighties in Austin, and a dress was the easiest option for the day. 

Scrambling for your purse and keys, you ran to the garage to start your car and head to the school. 

It wasn’t until you pulled into your parking spot that you realized you left your phone on the nightstand. 

“Okay, what’s going on?” Maria questioned, sipping her lukewarm coffee. 

She had nagged you into spending your free period in her classroom, demanding that you tell her everything that you had been withholding. You sat on the edge of her desk, your dress flowing over your knees as you stared out her class windows. 

“Nothing, Maria,” you lied. 

She said your name sternly, forcing your eyes to snap to hers. Her usual chipper demeanor was replaced with that ‘mother’ look, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. 

“Something is going on,” she pressed. “Could have something to do with Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. 

“You did it, huh?” She raised a brow. 

You exhaled heavily, nodding your head—no point in lying now. 

“We talked on the phone the entire break, and when I got home, he insisted on taking me on a date. Then one thing led to another… and yeah, we had sex.”

Maria squealed, clapping her hands and grinning wide. You stared at her blankly, unamused by her reaction to your words. 

“This isn’t a good thing, Maria,” you said pointedly. 

“Why wouldn’t it be? You’re finally putting yourself out there! Oh my god, was it good?” 

“It was,” you sighed. “It was good—really good. He’s so sweet and caring.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” she interjected. 

“But I can’t let it go any further,” you finished. 

Maria leaned forward and placed her hand on your knee. 

“Does he make you happy?” She asked softly. 

“So fucking happy, Maria. I hate it.”

“You deserve to be happy, sweetie. That’s all I’ve been saying for years, and now you have it! Don’t force it to fail before it even begins. I saw the way he looked at you at the father-daughter dance. You can’t fake that.”

“I know. I know. I just—ugh,” you slid off the desk with a groan. “He’s too good for me. I’m still trying to get over Bennett and everything that happened. He doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of all my misery. That’s not fair to him.” 

You were pacing around the room, your eyes darting between the science posters hanging along the walls of Maria’s classroom. You heard her desk chair scrape against the floor as she approached you. She gripped you by the shoulders and leveled you with a heavy stare, but her eyes remained soft. 

“He’s still around, right? I don’t think he’s going anywhere, sweetie. If anything, I think he’s in it for the long haul.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you leaned into her, letting her wrap you up in a motherly embrace. She rubbed circles against your back, hushing you as you wept quietly. 

The rest of the day passed by in a numbing blur. You packed your things quietly and headed to your car, ready to drown yourself in a glass of wine. 

Joel’s truck was parked in front of your house as you turned the corner onto your street. His tall figure was leaning against the driver’s door; his eyes focused on your car as you pulled into the driveway. You inhaled sharply before putting your car in park, mentally preparing yourself for whatever anger he might unleash. 

You barely shut the car door before Joel had his arms around you, tugging you into a warm embrace. You couldn’t make sense of it; why wasn’t he mad? He should be angry at you. 

“Joel?” you whispered, your fingers twisting into his shirt. He smelt of cedarwood and smoke, the lingering scent of the workday still on his clothes. 

“I was so fuckin’ worried ‘bout you,” he muttered into your hair. “Been tryin’ to get ahold of you all day.”

“I left my phone at home this morning,” you explained. “I listened to your voicemails from last night. I’m sorry I didn’t call back. I was just running late this morning.”

“Why didn’t you pick up last night?’ He asked, pulling away. 

“I needed some space. I’m just trying to figure this all out. I want you—I want this. I just don’t know how to be fully vulnerable. I know that’s silly to say since I’ve cried every time I’ve seen you.” You laughed at the thought of it.

“You coulda just told me that, baby. I would’ve understood,” Joel sighed. 

“You’re not mad at me?” 

“Of course not,” he smiled softly. “Had me worryin’ like crazy, but I ain’t mad. I know this is all new, and you’re scared. Just don’t shut me out, ‘kay? I wanna talk to you and understand what’s goin’ on with you. I told you I wanna work on it with you.”

“I’m s—.”

Joel was pressing his lips against yours before you could say those two words. The kiss was all-consuming and tender, strong enough to erase every thought in your mind. Your mouths moved in unison, tongues intertwined and exploring. It was dizzying to be kissed this fervently; the first kiss couldn’t hold a torch to this moment. You tangled your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck, slanting your lips to open yourself even more to him. Joel’s hands twisted into the fabric of your dress that hugged your hips and pulled you tighter against his body. You whimpered at the feeling of his cock straining in his jeans, and he hauled you upwards until you were wrapping your legs around his waist. 

Spinning you around, he pinned you to the metal of your car door, breaking away from your mouth to kiss down your neck. Was it possible to be branded by a dozen kisses? He left a trail of sweltering kisses over every exposed part of your upper body, and all you could do was pant and moan helplessly. To hell with the neighborhood and their lingering eyes; the world around you could collapse, and you’d still be clinging to his body. 

“I told you I didn’t wanna hear those apologies,” Joel muttered against the hollow of your neck. 

“What are you gonna do about it, Joel?” You moaned, his teeth grazing your collarbone. 

“All I want right now is to hear you screamin’ my name, so you better invite me inside before I fuck you right here.”

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered.

“Wrong name, baby.”

With one strong arm braced around your back and a firm hand on your ass, Joel carried you out of the driveway and through the open garage. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the bare patches in his beard. Joel stumbled into the living room and sat you on the edge of the couch. You clung to him, refusing to lay back, too afraid to disconnect from his body. There was something so addicting, so right about being in his arms—almost familiar. 

“Y’look so beautiful in this dress, baby,” Joel breathed. “Turn around.”

You unattached yourself from him, spinning until your thighs pushed against the leather of the couch. Joel’s hands roamed over your calves, dragging your dress up until it piled against your lower back. You gasped as his fingers tore apart your underwear, the scraps falling down your legs and piling at your feet. It was embarrassing how wet you were already, your slick coating your inner thighs. 

“Joel,” you whined as he swiped a finger through your wet folds.

“Use your words,” he hummed, slowly pushing in two fingers.

“I need you, Joel.” He curled his fingers against the spot that left you breathless, coaxing you to speak more. “Need it rough—please.” 

You needed to feel how bad he needed you; you needed to show him you wanted him, even if it meant doing it without saying it aloud.

“Y’want it rough, baby? I can do that. If it’s too much, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you exhaled. 

Joel pulled his fingers from you, bringing them to your mouth and smearing your arousal over your parted lips. You hummed as you tasted yourself, pushing your ass back into him. You heard the clang of his belt and the soft sound of his jeans hitting the floor before he swiped his cock across your slick entrance.

“Don’t be gentle,” you moaned.

“Anythin’ you want, baby.”

That was all he said before splitting you open, the fullness of his cock inside you robbing you of all the breath in your lungs. Joel kept his hips flush with yours, his fingertips drifting down the fabric of your dress covering your spine. 

“Joel,” you whined. 

You shifted yourself onto the tips of your toes, nudging yourself back until the tip of his cock rubbed against the right spot inside you. You mewled at the sensation, wiggling your hips to find some sort of relief from the pleasure churning inside your stomach.

“Impatient, baby?” Joel teased.

He moved against you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. You had been in such a haze last time you hadn’t realized how big he actually was, but now you felt every glorious inch of him inside you. You let out another frustrated whimper, and Joel responded with an onslaught of forceful thrusts. Your body shoved further into the couch, your midsection rubbing against the edge every time Joel snapped his hips against yours. 

Joel’s hand snaked around your neck, drawing you back into his chest, the angle of his cock spearing deeper inside you. Your wails turned to sobs as you listened to Joel grunting harder behind you, his fingers squeezing rhythmically around your throat. 

“That’s it, baby,” Joel crooned. “That’s it. Doin’ so well for me.”

You gasped for air as the desire coiling within your core became agonizing and all-consuming. Your fingers wrapped around his hand holding you up, clawing at his skin as his thrusts became erratic and determined. You were teetering on the edge of euphoria, your body buzzing with pleasure. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” Joel whispered into your ear. 

You fought against your dress to find your clit, the instant connection of your fingers causing you to cry out. Joel’s mouth ravaged your neck, sucking marks into the skin as you drew tantalizing circles over the sensitive bud. It was right there— that explosive pleasure bubbling under the surface. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice strained under his grip. “Don’t—right there. Right there, Joel!”

Joel quickened the pace, your eyes blurring as your orgasm raced through your veins and set your nerves ablaze. Your sex clenched around his cock, forcing him to slow his thrusts as he groaned into your ear. 

“S’fuckin’ good, baby,” he punched out, releasing your neck.

“More,” you heaved. 

“Think y’can take it?” He asked, pinning you down onto the couch cushions.

“Just want you, Joel,” you said. Your words were muffled into the couch as you exhaled, “Want everything with you.” 

You didn’t know if Joel heard you, and you prayed he didn’t. Your brain was lost in some euphoric haze, dizzying you and your ability to control your emotions. Joel knew every part of your body, like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what you needed and what you wanted, and it was so confusing. 

But all your thoughts grew quiet as the lewd sounds of your arousal and his ragged breathing echoed around the house. Joel’s hand pressed into your hair as he pushed you further into the couch. Bent over this way, you were entirely at his mercy, putty in his hands, and helpless. 

“Swear y’were fuckin’ made for me, baby,” Joel grunted. “You’re mine, baby. Mine.”

“Yours,” you cried. “I’m—.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as Joel seized up, choking out your name as he spilled into you. His body slumped over yours, the weight of his chest heavy against your back. The hammering of his heart matched yours as you both recovered in silence, the house growing quiet aside from your labored breathing. 

“Too rough?” Joel muttered into your hair. 

You shifted your face to the side, rewarded by his lips pressing into your cheek. 

“Perfect,” you sighed. “It was perfect.”

“You weren’t lyin’ when you said you weren’t a fan of vanilla, huh?” Joel chuckled, pulling out of you. 

You slumped further into the couch, laughing softly. 

“I was talking about cake, Joel. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Sure you were, baby. Stay right there, okay?”

You heard his footsteps disappear toward your bedroom, the distant sound of water turning on and off floating down the hallway. A second later, Joel was behind you again, the cool touch of a towel making you jerk away in shock. He gently rubbed the cloth over your inner thighs, taking extra caution of your sore entrance. You’d feel him everywhere tomorrow, and you didn’t hate that for some reason—you wanted the reminder of him. 

“C’mere,” Joel urged, helping you stand. 

He pulled you over to the couch, curling you into his arms and bracing you against his chest. Joel intertwined his fingers with yours, his breathing evening out as you shimmed further into his embrace. Maybe it was the sex, maybe it was just being around him, but all your doubts and worries seemed to fade away. It was just this moment; you and him with limbs entangled together. 

“Tell me somethin’ no one knows about you,” Joel whispered. 

“Only if you tell me something in return.”

“Of course, baby.”

You paused, considering all the possibilities of what you could share. You had forgotten pieces of yourself over the years, the layers of heartbreak and trauma suffocating the person you once were. You still weren’t sure if that girl you had once been was still inside you. 

“I hate pancakes,” you said.

Joel laughed, his body shaking behind you as you buried your head into the couch. 

“Pancakes? Really?” He teased. 

“I just don’t like them!” You defended. 

“Y’gonna tell me why?”

“I don’t know,” you grumbled. “They’re just too sweet.”

“So y’don’t like sugar in your coffee, and y’think pancakes are too sweet,” Joel mused. “What do you like?”

“Don’t tease me, Joel.”

His fingers prodded your sides, forcing you to shriek at the contact. You hated to be tickled and hated it even more when he kept you pinned to your chest with nowhere to go. You rolled toward him, squirming against his touch. Joel leaned in to kiss you softly, muffling your protests as you settled into his arms. 

“Your turn,” you sighed. 

“Hmm, well, I like pancakes.”

“Be serious, Joel,” you frowned. 

“Okay, okay. I love watchin’ cartoons.”

You giggled, watching that grin stretch across his face. 

“Been watchin’ them with Sarah since she was a kid,” he chuckled. “I still do sometimes, even if she ain’t home.” 

“That’s cute,” you smiled.

You brought your fingers to his face, scratching at the stubble covering his chin and jaw. Joel’s eyes shut as your touch drifted over the patchy spots, your fingertips drawing circles in the places his beard disconnected. 

“Tell me somethin’ else,” he said.

“I think you’re really handsome.”

It was a quick response—almost too fast—but you couldn’t swallow back the words. You glanced up at him, peeking through your lashes to see his brown eyes soften. 

“Handsome, huh?”

“Well, I can’t call you cute,” you scrunched your nose. “It doesn’t fit you. I like handsome more.”

“I like it,” he smiled. “Call me handsome all y’want.”

You dragged him to your mouth, saying everything you couldn’t form into words. Joel moved with you, his head tilting and mouth molding to yours. He made everything feel so simple; maybe that’s what scared you. It was too easy with him—falling into this idyllic routine. Joel mumbled your name, pulling himself reluctantly from your lips. You chased one more kiss and settled back into his chest. 

“Did you know it’s good luck when it rains on your wedding day?” You thought out loud.

Joel tensed up, his arms flexing around you. 

“Superstition says it means your marriage will last,” you continued. “I’ve always thought it was funny, you know? I used to believe in that before my wedding, but after that, I figured everyone had lied to me.”

“Baby,” Joel whispered. 

“No, it’s okay. There’s a point to this, I promise.”

“Tell me,” he urged softly.

“I think the rain was good luck. Maybe not in the way people think, but I don’t think Bennett and I were meant to get married. My sister hated me for going through with it. We didn’t really talk once Bennett and I got engaged. Everyone warned me about him; they told me he wasn’t who I should be with. I was so stubborn to make things work. He—he was there for me during a really awful time in my life. I thought I owed it to him to stay.

“But then here you are, and it makes me re-think everything. The rain? It’s still good luck, just in a different way. I wasn’t meant to be with him because maybe… maybe I was meant to be with you.”

Joel was painfully quiet, his eyebrows furrowing together as he closed his eyes. Oh, fuck. You had rambled out everything you were scared to say, and now it was biting you in the ass. This was why you were too afraid to acknowledge your feelings: the rejection. Joel didn’t see it the same way; he didn’t think of you in the same way, and you just made a complete idiot of yourself. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you muttered, trying to pry yourself out of his grip. You kept the tears at bay, trying not to let yourself succumb to the heartbreak shattering inside you. 

Joel’s hands wrangled you back to his chest, his eyes leveling with yours. You inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed away the rogue tears falling down your cheeks. 

“There ain’t a doubt in my mind y’were meant for me, baby. I’m thankin’ God every day for bringin’ you into my life,” Joel confessed. “I know this is all new, but I promise to keep provin’ myself because whatever this is between us, it’s real.”

“It’s real,” you echoed. 

“Don’t run away from me,” Joel pleaded. “Gimmie all the good and bad stuff. I swear I can handle it.”

“What if you get tired of me? What if I’m not enough?” You rambled. 

“I could never get tired of you, baby. If anythin’, I keep wantin’ more.”

You snuggled further into his embrace, inhaling his scent as you pressed your nose into his chest. Joel ran a hand through your hair, his fingers catching on a few knots left from earlier. 

“What’d you mean when you said he was there for you durin’ somethin’ awful?” Joel asked after a beat of silence. 

Flashes of the crash came back into your mind, or at least the ones you could recall. You squeezed your eyes shut as your nightmares began to see the light of day. It was a memory you never liked to revisit.

“Easy,” your mom whispered. “Easy, honey. Don’t move too much, okay? Take it slow.”

Your eyes fluttered open, the harsh lights above you burning into your retinas as you tried to adjust to the room fading into the forefront. You were tucked into a hospital bed, IVs and tubes sticking out of both arms. Your head was pounding, and everything hurt. That’s all you could focus on. Everything hurt so fucking bad.

“Bennett?” You croaked, searching the room. 

Your mom, dad, Beth, and Stella were all grouped around the foot of the bed, their eyes glassy with tears. Bennett was nowhere to be found. Beth’s fear-stricken eyes shifted from your mom to your dad before she bolted from the room.

“I’m going to go get the doctor,” your mom announced, turning and leaving the room.

Stella shifted uncomfortably and promptly followed, leaving your dad alone at the foot of your bed.

“How’re you feeling, peanut?” He asked, rounding to the side of your bed.

“Pain,” you cried softly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assured. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Baby?” Joel said cautiously. 

“S–sorry,” you mumbled. “I don’t know if I really want to talk about it.”

Joel’s brows scrunched together, his eyes staring at you with concern. You turned away from him, lifting yourself from the couch. Pacing the living room, you stared blankly at your bookshelf beside your entertainment center, still collecting dust after two years. You heard Joel shift against the couch behind you and glanced back to see him staring at you intensely. Anxiety was thrumming in your chest the longer you stood in front of him, too many thoughts reeling inside your mind. You never talked about the accident; you didn’t want to be reminded of what had been the catalyst in your relationship's failure. Because that’s what it was. You owed everything to Bennett for sticking by your side through it all, and in the end, you weren’t enough. Nothing you did was enough to salvage what had been your life with him before it all.

“Hey,” Joel exhaled. “C’mere.”

“I—I need a minute,” you cried.

You bolted from the living room and went down the hall, gasping for air when you reached the edge of your bed. The room was spinning as you dropped your head in your hands, the nausea surging up inside you the longer you stayed stuck in the memory. You needed out of it; you needed out. You needed—.

Joel rushed into the room, falling to his knees in front of you as he said your name over and over to coax you out of the trance. Nothing was working. Your head was throbbing in pain, and you couldn’t work around it. 

“Breathe with me, baby,” Joel whispered. “Breathe.”

You heaved in a lung full of air, only to choke on it and gag back the nausea crawling up your throat. Joel rubbed his hands over your thighs, the sensation of his touch jarring you enough to make you cringe. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he crooned, a distant echo of your dad's words. “It’s okay.”

The shrilling sound of your phone ringing pulled you both from the moment, and you crawled over the bed to grab it. 

Beth

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I can’t—I can’t answer it.”

“Give it to me, I’ll do it,” Joel offered with an outstretched hand. 

You practically tossed it at him while you crumpled into the sheets with your hands clutching your head. 

“Hello?” He answered with a brief pause before he said, “This is Joel.”

Silence.

“Fuck, okay. Gimmie a second,” he replied.

“Baby, she needs to talk to you,” Joel said.

You stifled your cries before taking your phone from his hand, already hearing Beth’s frantic voice on the other end of the receiver. 

“Beth, what is it?” You asked, your body shaking. 

“It’s dad, sis. You’ve got to come home, okay?”

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x teacher #joel x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miler tlou #tlou #pre outbreak!joel #the last of us fanfiction #fluff and angst #so much angst

[my-moony-and-padfoot]

Promise to never die

Word count: 2 300

TW: implied character death, nothing graphic but it just is there.

Also, muggle au :) Set after their days in school

Sirius looked at the photo album in his hands, full of happy memories, full of love. It was black leather, worn out from years of use and dusty from sitting on a shelf. It was one of the few that he had, but this one was the oldest, it meant the most. He hadn't opened it in a while, though. He couldn't muster up the courage or strength to open it and flip through the pages, he hadn't done it to any of them. He just let them sit on the shelf, collecting dust.

He felt arms wrap around his waist, chin hooking over his shoulder. “It's okay.” Remus whispered into his ear, his voice was thick with sleep, making Sirius feel bad for waking him. Sirius nodded, taking in a deep, shaky breath, looking down at the book and Remus' arms. They were holding him close just atop the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, rubbing small circles into his hip underneath the jumper he was wearing. “Let's go back to bed.”

“Can't sleep.”

“That's okay.”

Sirius reached up to slide the album back into its place on the bookshelf, then he turned around to look at Remus. He smiled sadly, wiping away the tears that were trailing down Sirius' cheeks, he wrapped his arms around Remus' neck, hiding his face into his chest. “Promise to never die.” he whispered after a moment of silence, pulling back from the hug so he could look at Remus who gave him a sympathetic smile, rubbing his back for a moment. “Remus please…”

“You know I can't promise that, love.” Sirius just sniffled in response, looking down as the tears fell, trailing down his cheeks before Remus could wipe them away. “But, I'll try my best.” He nodded, leaning back against him, feeling safe in the warm embrace. “Let’s go to bed, you need sleep, baby.”

“No.”

“At least come lay down with me, please?” He asked, brushing his hand through Sirius’ hair, frowning as he shook his head, sniffling quietly. “I don't want you to be sad all by yourself.”

“Then don't go away.”

“I’m here. I don't think I could even go with the way you're clinging onto me.”

“Sorry.” he whispered, letting go of Remus, wiping his eyes before glancing up at him.

“Hey no, you know that's not what I meant.” He whispered. “I don't wanna go anywhere, I was just joking, love. I want to be here with you. Come to bed with me, please?”

“Okay.”

…

Remus woke up around four in the morning, reaching for Sirius so he could pull him close and try to fall back to sleep, but he was met with an empty space and cold sheets. He sat up, looking around confusedly before getting up from bed in search of his boyfriend. He walked to the living room, but Sirius wasn't there. But he found him in the kitchen, sitting on a counter that was right next to a window.

He wasn't sure if Sirius noticed him coming into the kitchen, if he did, he didn't show it. “What are you doing, baby?” He asked quietly, leaning against the doorframe. He just watched Sirius shrug and pull one of his knees up to his chest, leaning his chin into it. He walked over to him, smiling as Sirius glanced at him, giving him a small smile. “Why are you awake?”

“Can't sleep.” He mumbled, sniffling quietly as he looked away again. “You can go to bed though.”

“I don't want to if you're not.” Remus whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. He could see Sirius' eyes slowly fill with tears through the reflection in the dark window. “Can you come back to bed with me?”

Sirius shook his head. “Do you- do you think they can see us?”

“I don't know, baby.” He whispered. “Maybe they're out there somewhere, watching over us. I hope they are.” He nodded, glancing up at Remus, making sure he was close enough so he could lean against him. He smiled slightly as Remus' arm wrapped around him, rubbing his side gently. “Is that why you're sitting out here?”

“Yeah.” He breathed out. “Can't see a thing, though. Too dark.” He said, sounding bitter and sad at the same time, making Remus frown slightly leaning to kiss his head.

“Maybe tomorrow night.” Remus whispered into his hair. “Supposed to be less cloudy.”

“Okay.”

“Wanna come back to bed with me? We've got work in the morning.” Sirius shook his head. “Okay, then.”

“You can-”

“No.” He whispered, interrupting him. “Gonna stay with you, if you let me.” Sirius nodded, closing his eyes for a moment as he leaned more against Remus. They stayed there for a while, eventually ending cuddled up on their sofa, watching the sunrise through their big living room window.

…

The next week or two went by like this, Remus would wake up in the middle of the night or too early in the morning to cold sheets beside him. His boyfriend no longer laying there, though he had been there when they went to bed. Then, he'd get up and find Sirius from various corners of their flat, living room watching some show with the volume, so low Remus was sure he didn't even hear it. Sometimes he was on their balcony, sitting in the freezing cold weather, looking up at the stars. Once he was even reorganizing and cleaning their kitchen at five in the morning.

Each time, Remus would ask what he was doing, and Sirius would answer with something simple and obvious like, cleaning the kitchen. When he asked what was wrong, he hardly ever got the answer, it was just shrugged off. He knew what was wrong, but Sirius didn't want to say it, neither of them did, it was easier not to talk about it. He would always ask Sirius to come back to bed with him, but every time he resisted, saying he couldn't sleep. Then they talked, Sirius asking some weird question that made his heart hurt, and Remus couldn't do anything but kiss his head and try to comfort him somehow.

Every so often he'd stay to sit with him. They watched the sunrise with steaming mugs of tea and blankets to keep them warm in the autumn breeze. He helped Sirius with cleaning out random drawers in their kitchen; they ended up spending the whole day cleaning every nook and cranny they could possibly find in their flat. Some nights he managed to convince Sirius to come back to bed with him, they'd cuddle up together, eventually falling back to sleep. The mornings after those nights, when Remus woke up, he felt relieved when he found Sirius still sleeping beside him and not somewhere trying to spend all his built-up anxious energy.

They never talked about it though, not once did Remus mention what had happened, or what they had talked about. He didn't because Sirius seemed to be in a good mood when he had gotten through those early hours of the morning. He smiled, giving Remus a soft kiss before he rolled out of bed and made them both breakfast. It was weird, it was as if all the sadness, grief, and anxiety that came out during the night was replaced by this happy energy, a good mood that nothing could ruin. Not until the evening came and got more quiet and reserved, then they went to bed and Remus would wake up without Sirius.

Even though Sirius seemed happy during the day, Remus could see through it. He was covering up all the pain, smiling it away until he couldn't. He wasn't sleeping, at most he got two to four hours of sleep, and it was wearing him down. He had dark circles under his eyes, only further highlighted by his pale skin. He constantly had a cup of coffee or tea within reach, fuelling himself up on caffeine to keep himself going. Remus could see the sad expressions, trembling hands, and shaky breaths when he tried to hold back tears that he refused to let fall. It was slowly breaking him down.

It broke his heart to see Sirius destroy himself like this, and there was nothing he could really do. He didn't want to push Sirius into something he wasn't ready for, talking being one of them. He didn't want to and Remus respected that boundary, maybe he'd talk when he was ready. But he felt so helpless, he couldn't do anything but tell Sirius /it's okay when it didn't feel like it and provide him with all the comfort he possibly could.

It was a night just like all the previous ones, he woke up to a weird feeling and a lack of warmth without his boyfriend sleeping either cuddled up with him or beside him. So he got up, stretching out as he made his way out of their bedroom, finding Sirius quickly, he was sitting on the floor, leaning against a bookcase that sat right next to the sofa. He had the photo album laying on his lap, it wasn't open, but it just was there.

“Hey, baby.” He whispered quietly, Sirius glanced up at him, giving him a small smile, then looked back down at the album. Remus sat down next to him, taking his hand into his and intertwining their fingers together, Sirius leaned his head on Remus' shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment. “What-”

“Why aren't you sad?” He asked quietly, interrupting the question he had heard at least a thousand times by now, or that's at least what it felt like. “I don't understand. It's like you've moved on? But how- I'm still so… so sad. I don't understand Rem.”

“I haven't.” Remus whispered into Sirius' hair, kissing his head before continuing. “I'm still sad, and grieving. I think about them every single day, love. But it's different for everyone, isn't it? Everyone deals with loss differently.”

“I guess yeah.” He whispered. “I don't wanna be sad, though. I really don't.”

“I don't either.” Remus said. “But it takes time, it'll get better eventually.”

“When?” He asked brokenly, tears starting to well up in his eyes. “When does it get better?”

“I don't know, love.” It was silent then, both of them taking a moment to calm down. Sirius quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeves, then he lifted his head, looking at Remus. He smiled sadly, wiping away the tears that were trailing down his cheeks then leaned to give him a soft kiss. “I love you.” He whispered, leaning his forehead against Sirius'.

“I love you.” Sirius whispered back before laying his head back down onto Remus’ shoulder. “M’sorry I keep you awake.” He mumbled after a moment. “I don't mean to- I just can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes I can't stop seeing this- Just can't sleep.”

“It's okay, I don't mind being awake.” He said, rubbing small circles into his wrist with his thumb in an attempt to make him feel better. “Not if it's for you.”

Sirius smiled for a moment. “I'm so tired.”

“I know. I'm too.”

They fell silent for a moment, just sitting there on the floor of their living room, there was no light except for the small side table lamp that had been switched on. The curtains were drawn closed, blocking out most of the possible noise that came from outside. After a while, Remus reached for the album that was laying on Sirius' lap, he let go of his hand so he could wrap his arm around Sirius and pull him a bit closer.

“How about we flip through this together?” Remus asked quietly, leaning his head against Sirius'. “Makes it easier, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He whispered, waiting for Remus to open the book, he couldn't find himself to do that. It felt like too much of a task. Remus opened it, holding it up so they could both see clearly, the first picture was a group photo of them, him, Sirius, James, and Peter. They were all smiling, arms around each other. It had been taken in front of their school building sometime during winter when they were around 16. “Where do you reckon Pete is now?”

“I don't know. We should maybe call him sometime, catch up.” Sirius nodded, looking down at the picture, he smiled at the memory.

“Do you-” He trailed off, trying to form sensible words off of his scrambled up thoughts. “Do you think he knows? Y'know, about…”

“I don't know, maybe he does.” Sirius nodded, reaching to turn the page, somehow finding strength in realising there wasn't anything bad in this album, only happy memories from their school days. The next pictures in the book were various pictures of different parties they had thrown and been in, pictures of all of their friends taken when they didn't know. Photos of them doing random things, dates and all of these other memories that were long forgotten by now. It made them both smile and laugh when they remembered what had happened before or after taking a particular picture. There was a series of pictures where Mary had thrown cake at Remus for no real reason, and it ended up with a picture of all of them covered more or less in frosting.

Towards the end of the album there were pictures of lily and Remus being hidden behind piles and piles of books and papers when their final exams neared. Similar ones of him and James sleeping on said books, playing chess and bothering their partners instead of studying. The last few pages were designated for their graduation pictures, all of them in a group photo, all smiling, and laughing at each other, Sirius was pretty sure one of their teachers had actually taken that picture.

When they had gotten through the first one, Remus got up, only to reach for the other two, watching as Sirius smiled at him when he showed the books to him. He leaned back against Remus when he sat down next to him, opening the next one. There was a picture of him and Remus sitting on top of a few moving boxes, sharing a kiss. It had been taken on the first day they had moved into their flat, Lily had taken the picture and James had come to shove them off after it had been taken.

There were pictures of James' and Lily's wedding, more group photos at different places and things they had been to. There were long gaps between some photos, but they had tried to put them in a chronological order as best as they could, but some of them were in the wrong place. Then there were pictures of little baby Harry, all of their friends happy and taking turns holding him. It brought out a lot of memories, both of them feeling happy as they saw these again.

The last album was mainly pictures of the last year, though it ended halfway through, the last picture was from Halloween. There was Harry, wearing a little ghost costume made from an old sheet, holding a pumpkin bucket in his hands, James and Lily standing behind him, Lily was dressed up as a cat while James was a pirate. On James' side stood Remus and Sirius, dressed up as the big bad wolf and red riding hood, Peter was there too who was in a police costume. On the other side, standing next to Lily were Marlene and Mary who was a zombie and Marlene who had created a skeleton costume for herself. They were all happy and smiling. It was the last time they had all gotten together, last time they had all been happy together.

A/N:

Hello :), hopefully we liked this one, I really liked writing this.

If you find any of these slash signs (/) or whatever the fuck it is, the text after that is meant to be like this I just missed that one

Have a nice day/night/morning and remember to take care of yourself <3

<3

#sirius black #remus lupin #sirius orion black #remus john lupin #wolfstar #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #marauders #fluff #wolfstar angst #fluff and angst #angst #hurt/comfort #comfort

[hairmetal666]

Steve doesn't date, not anymore. He goes to bars, clubs, picks people up and makes it clear it's just for the night; that it can't, won't, be for anything more.

He falls too fast and too hard; wants so badly to be loved that he loses himself to it. So, he doesn't date and he's fine. More than fine, actually. Not worrying about finding someone, about falling in love, lets him truly enjoy his life; maybe for the first time since childhood.

He goes with Robin to visit her parents in Hawkins, wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run. With the sun barely up, he doesn't expect to come face-to-face with Eddie Munson, smoking on a park bench.

They startle each other in the early Hawkins quiet, Eddie jumping hard enough that he drops his cigarette into the dirt at his feet.

"Christ, Harrington!" He snarls a little.

"Fuck, Eddie." Steve fights to catch his breath. "What are you doing out this early?"

He glances up, finds Eddie's eyes raking over this body in a way that makes him go hot all over.

"Haven't been home yet." Eddie smirks. And he can see that's true, Eddie is fully dressed, faint lines of mascara trail across his cheeks.

"Had a show?"

"Something like that." Eddie's cheeks pink, and he pulls a chunk of hair over his face.

Understanding dawns, and Steve points at him, delighted laugh bubbling in his throat.

"Don't--"

"You had an all night Hellfire meeting?" Steve cackles.

"Shut--Harrington, shut-up." But he's smiling too. "I'm in town this weekend. Dustin insisted!"

"You can tell him no, you know?" Steve giggles.

"Like you ever could."

Eddie stands then, and they hug, quick and tight. He practically crumbles into his friend's body, but then, that's nothing new. Steve breathes him in, immediately comforted by the familiarity of tobacco and leather and sweat and weed.

"I'm at Rob's. Come say hi?"

Eddie nods and they trek back together. They kept in touch, after Vecna, and their chatting is easy, like it's not been six months since the last time.

Eddie stays for breakfast tells them with a smile, "I was gonna call but--I'm moving to Chicago. That's why I'm crashing at Wayne's for now, stopped on the way--"

The rest of his words are smothered by the force of Steve and Robin's hug, Steve's heart beating an elated rhythm he doesn't bother investigating.

--

When Eddie makes it to town, they hang out as constantly as an adult with a day job and a touring musician can. It's nice, good, to see Eddie sitting on their couch. To watch him smoke a joint on the balcony. To hangout in his bed as he works on new music. It's just like the summer of '86, before they all went off to find their futures.

They're closer than they've ever been. Crashing at each other's apartments, sharing clothes, meeting for coffee and drinks and meals. There's not a day or night when they're free that they don't spend together.

Steve knows he's falling for Eddie; was halfway there already, and now--well, Eddie's beautiful and funny and smart and talented. He doesn't make a move, though. Because Eddie'll leave, like they all do, and losing Eddie will crush him more than anyone else ever has.

--

In June, Eddie's gone for a month, touring across the midwest. The day he's expected back, Steve's in the kitchen, rolling up fresh pasta, simmering sauce on the stove.

Robin stomps in, eyes flashing. "What are you doing?"

"Making dinner?" Steve raises an eyebrow.

"Steve."

"Robin."

They glare at each other across the kitchen. Steve breaks first. "What's wrong with making our friend dinner?"

"I don't want either of you to get hurt."

Steve freezes, swallows. "I'm not--I'm--I wouldn't."

"Just. Promise you'll be careful?"

He nods, squeezes his hands into fists. "Course, Rob."

And he means it, he really does, but when Eddie lets himself in, Steve runs to the doorway to pull his friend into a tight hug.

Eddie huffs out a burst of air on impact, laughing lightly. "Miss me, sweetheart?"

"So much," Steve whispers. He presses his nose into Eddie's neck, breathing him in, and he doesn't miss the way a kiss is pressed into his hair, the way Eddie's breathing him in too.

They fall into their natural rhythm immediately, Eddie following him to the kitchen, cooing and posturing that Steve made him dinner.

As Steve serves up the food, Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, leaning against his back. God help him, but Steve can't help relax into the hold, turning his head until their eyes meet.

Desire bleeds from Eddie's gaze, and Steve's breath hitches. He wants this so badly, knows he shouldn't, but he lets himself lean in until they share air.

But--he can't lose Eddie. He can't.

He turns away, lets the moment die. Eddie doesn't stay over that night, and Steve pretends like it doesn't make his stomach hurt.

--

They aren't as close after that.

Steve keeps telling himself it's because they're busy. The school year's starting up, Steve's got lesson plans to write; Eddie made an EP, it got interest, he's taking meetings in New York and LA. It's okay that they're spending less time together.

Until Eddie stops returning his calls.

He tries not to worry. But one call becomes two, becomes three, and he can't help it. He goes over, dread a knot in his stomach. Eddie opens the door, and he's shirtless with sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair loose and streaming around his shoulders. He looks happy.

"Steve? What are you--"

"You weren't answering my calls, and--can I come in?"

Eddie winces. "It's not a good time, Harrington."

He stands there for a second, stung, not sure what to say.

"Eddie, I--"

"Babe?" A voice calls from inside the apartment. "Who's at the door?"

Steve freezes. Can't think, can't move. He hopes it isn't obvious that his heart is shattering, but Eddie's blinking at him, panic written in the lines gathering on his forehead.

"Steve, Stevie, please," Eddie is saying, but he can't do this. He can't do this.

He walks away, all the way home, numb to everything around him.

The phone's ringing when he gets to the apartment. He ignores it. Goes to his room, locks himself in, crawls into bed.

The phone keeps ringing. He keeps ignoring it.

It isn't supposed to be like this. They weren't dating, weren't trying for a relationship; Eddie's supposed to be his. He curls into himself, sobs until his ribs hurt, until his eyes are as heavy as his heart, and he falls asleep.

--

Steve startles awake, disoriented, to someone knocking on his bedroom door. He has no idea what time it is, how long he slept, but he expects Robin to be waiting in the hall.

It's Eddie. Hair in a messy bun, face flushed, eyes too bright.

"I'm sorry," falls out of Steve's mouth before he can think of anything else.

"Steve, I--I don't--" Eddie shakes his head. "Do you want to be in a relationship with me?"

"Yes," Steve whispers. "But I can't lose you, Eddie."

Eddie reaches out, slender hand, cupping Steve's jaw. "I need you to really listen when I say this, sweetheart. You will never, ever lose me. Not a chance."

"You can't know that," Steve says. Tears break free, cascade down his cheeks. "I used to think who could ever leave me? You know, back before Nancy. But I realized that actually no one would stay. And I can't--with you I can't--"

"Sweetheart," Eddie chokes on a sob. "I'm yours. Have been for years. I will never, ever leave you, no matter what we are to each other. But I can't be in some of a relationship with you. You have me wrapped around your finger, and I--I need it all, Steve."

"I want you to have it, Eddie." He presses his hand to his heart. "This belongs to you, but I--I couldn't survive you leaving."

"I would stay, Steve. I will. I promise on everything I have, everything I am, that you would never, ever lose me."

Steve stumbles into Eddie's arms, totally gone, and their mouths meet in a clumsy kiss. It wrecks Steve, tears him apart, renders him down to his smallest parts only to build him back together. He knows now for certain that there is no one else in the world for him.

They break apart, but don't move out of each other's orbit. "I love you," Steve whispers.

"Stevie, sweetheart, I love you more than anything." His fingers wind their way into Steve's hair, gentle, holding him. "I promise you'll have me for forever--fuck, longer than forever. My soul will find yours wherever we end up. I swear it."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #fluff #angst #fluff and angst #angst with a happy ending #friends to lovers #musician eddie munson #teacher steve harrington #situationship #mutual pining #steve swears off dating #eddie is hopelessly in love with him #what if steve is the archer #who could ever leave me darling but who could stay #what if eddie is linger #you know i'm such a fool for you #the archer #linger #eddie will stay

[ao3-shenanigans]

When. when th- when the, when the touch starved, the touch starved then the ao3 and then they-

#ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #fluff and angst #touch starved #ao3 meme #fanfic meme #ao3 shenanigans

[aethes-bookshelf]

let me be your shelter || astarion/gn!tav

This is the result of an especially hectic exam season. I started writing this fic instead of having a meltdown lol Now that I have more time again, I decided to finish it :) I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: hurt/comfort (mostly comfort), gn!Tav (can be read as a self-insert), Tav/Reader is the one being comforted

Pairing: Astarion/Tav, Astarion/Reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Summary: You’d always tried to be the strong, reliable one — a leader through and through, a shoulder to cry on for everyone else. Even after everything you'd been through, you put on a brave face. All the way up until you couldn't.

Luckily, Astarion's always there to pick up the pieces.

ao3 link

The sun was setting outside when you finally closed the front door of your house behind you, cloaking the entrance corridor in darkness. The straps of your pack were digging quite painfully into your shoulder, no doubt leaving angry marks on your skin. You threw it to the floor with a huff and closed your eyes for a moment,

The day's exhaustion rolled off of you in waves; hours worth of dust and grime stuck to your clothes and skin. Rebuilding the city after the Battle of Baldur’s Gate was a noble cause. It being noble, however, didn’t make it any less exhausting.

You tried running your fingers through your hair, but your hand almost got stuck in it instead. The firm tug against your scalp made your eyes water. Your back was on fire, your legs were on fire, your face was tacky with drying sweat. It was all so much, too much.

Curling up in a corner and staying there until the sun fell out of the sky seemed worryingly appealing. I still have to go back out there tomorrow, though, you thought. The ugly, choking pressure in your throat got tighter and tighter. Your eyes, still clenched shut, brimmed with tears.

‘Darling?’ called a familiar voice from somewhere on the other side of the corridor. ‘Why are you just standing there? At least light a candle or something. It’s not like you can see like this,’ the voice continued, getting closer.

There was the hiss of a match being lit; one, two, three candles lit up the darkness.

‘Well, not that you can see much with your eyes closed, anyway,’ said Astarion. All snark left his voice when he saw the first tears roll down your cheeks. ‘Oh, I wasn’t that mean, was I? Why are you crying, love?’

‘I-I’m sorry.’ Your voice broke. ‘I don’t- don’t know why, I’m just- just so…’ you trailed off as the first sobs tore out of your chest.

Just a few months ago, Astarion would be looking like a deer in headlights right about now. He still remembered the very first time you broke down after the whole Absolute-tadpole nonsense was over. After everyone else went their separate ways and you chose to stay to help rebuild the city and he chose to stay with you. Naturally.

The breakdown happened soon after. The second night the two of you slept in your brand new bed in your brand new house, the dam inside you just broke, shattered into pieces; and you were swept up in the current of the build-up grief and fear.

Astarion, as much as he loathed to admit it, panicked. He had no idea how to comfort people; after all, it wasn’t a skill necessary for survival for most of his life, so he never really bothered to learn it. He still hadn’t even after whatever the two of you shared at first turned more serious. You’d always tried to be the strong, reliable one — a leader through and through, a shoulder to cry on for everyone else. The stable one. The stable one never gets to cry, so you didn’t.

As ashamed as Astarion was when he realized it, he hadn’t even thought you could cry. It just never really crossed his mind.

Luckily for the both of you, he loved you far too much not to learn from his mistakes after that very first night of the rest of your life. He’d like to think he got comforting you down to a science.

‘Would you like a hug, my sweet?’ Step one was almost always physical contact. And not just because holding you became one of his favorite pastimes; rather, it was grounding for you to have something to hold onto when you got like this. Astarion would gladly volunteer to be that something whenever he could.

You didn’t trust your voice enough to answer, so you just nodded instead. You were starting to tremble; rarely a good sign. Whatever stress-induced breakdown was happening would probably be a big one.

Astarion knew better than to try to wrestle you from the spot you were standing in. It would do nothing except agitate you further, so he simply walked up to you and gathered you into his arms.

The moment you were close enough to hide your face in the crook of his neck, the sobs that had been building up inside you this entire time wrecked your body. You were wailing loudly; so loudly you’d be embarrassed if you had enough energy left in you to care.

Astarion winced slightly at first — you were close enough to his ear for it to hurt. Still, he held you closer, firmer. Just enough pressure to help you calm down.

Eventually, your wailing died down to sobbing, and sobbing turned into soft sniffling. He tried to run a hand through your hair; his fingers nearly got stuck in it, just like yours before.

‘Would you say no to a bath, darling?’ he said, voice soft and quiet. ‘I got some new scented oils a few days ago. I even paid for them this time.’

That got a small chuckle out of you. Your throat was raw and your face was even more sticky now; a bath sounded wonderful.

‘I’d rather like a bath, I think.’ Your voice was all scratchy. You’d probably have one hell of a time trying to speak tomorrow.

‘Come on, then.’ Astarion kissed the top of your head and gently pried you away from his neck.

Usually you were the one leading him everywhere; he supposed in moments like these it was his turn to lead you instead. He walked you to the bathroom, holding your hand. And he didn’t even comment on the snot you left on his shirt, which was a great show of understanding on his part — as far as he was concerned — although he did take it off and throw it in the laundry basket as soon as the two of you entered the bathroom. All his love for you didn’t mean he’d be okay running about in a snotted-up shirt.

He sat you down on the floor near the bathtub and filled it with water. He smelled each of the new scented oils with great consideration. The last thing you probably wanted at the moment was having to pick which oil to put in your bath, so he wanted to make the choice for you — and to make the right one.

After the bath was all prepared, Astarion helped you out of your clothes and walked you to the corner of the bathroom, where he washed most of the dirt off your skin. Making sure you could properly relax also meant making sure you wouldn’t be soaking in dirty water, after all.

Soon enough, you were sitting in the bathtub with your eyes closed. Right after helping you inside the bath, Astarion ran off to grab your favorite hairbrush. And now, he busied himself with detangling the mess your hair had become over the course of your day. He talked and talked all the while — about his day, about this awful thief he managed to thwart the other night, about the shopping trip he went on the day before — about everything and nothing, just to keep talking. Just to fill the silence with noise that would drown out your screaming, tired mind. He didn’t expect you to answer; it was enough that you listened.

After your hair was brushed, washed and conditioned, Astarion dried you off and brought you a freshly washed set of pajamas.

‘You need to sleep, darling,’ he said, handing you the clothes. He knew you were far too tired to argue with him on that. As endearing as your usual desire to stay up with him for as long as possible was, you needed rest — badly.

‘Will you stay with me?’ you said. You felt much better now that all the grime was off of you, but the thought of laying in bed alone made you want to cry all over again.

‘As if I’d ever leave,’ scoffed Astarion as he took your hand again, leading you out of the bathroom.

The coldness of his bare chest was a much needed comfort. You nuzzled closer to him as he threw a thick blanket over the two of you. He reached over to his bedside table.

‘I could read for you, if you’d like.’

You mumbled out a ‘yes’. Your eyelids were so very heavy, but the idea of hearing Astarion’s voice rumble in his chest right against your cheek sounded lovely.

He chuckled to himself. ‘You’re adorable when you’re tired.’

He started reading. You weren’t really paying attention to what he was reading, rather to the sound of his voice itself. The individual words and sentences blurred into one, continuous rumble. Listening to him speak felt like falling deeper and deeper into a pile of the softest pillows.

You were out before Astarion could finish the first fifteen pages of the book. He noticed by the end of page twenty. When he did, he gently put away the book and held you tighter against him. And he may or may not have left a few kisses on your forehead, but that’s neither here nor there.

Astarion got comforting you down to a science. And he was damn proud that he was the one you trusted to comfort you in the first place.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #gn!reader #gn!tav #unnamed tav #fluff #domestic fluff #hurt/comfort #fluff and angst #bg3 #astarion #my writing #bg3 astarion #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 astarion #second person pov

[audhd-nightwing]

okay i cannot shut up about them

steve being the one average intelligence friend among fucking geniuses (most of which are like fucking 13 year olds / all of which are younger than him) must be so damaging to his self esteem

because he’s only surrounded by child prodigies, a literal genius that’s fluent in several languages, and (probably the valedictorian if she wanted to be) a badass genius journalist, he has no example of what average intelligence is and just assumes he is stupid

which is not helped by the fact that everyone looks down on him/calls him an idiot/expects him to know everything!! so they just enforce this belief that he’s stupid and less than just because he’s not as intelligent as the rest of them

and then along comes eddie munson who failed senior year twice, yet is an amazing storyteller and genius DM, who knows about all these cool things and guess what? dustin looks up to him!

and steve knows dustin isn’t replacing him but dustin thinking he was cool was one of the only things holding his facade together

and then robin is only thinking about vickie and of course steve wants to help and he listens and gives advice, but robin was the only one who was around, who hung out with him, who listened

and max is isolating herself, and lucas has basketball and hellfire, and he doesn’t think nancy would ever want to be friends, so it’s. just him.

and then

and THEN

steve is walking through the upside down with eddie munson, and eddie references something he doesn’t get, and steve expresses his confusion and is prepared to be made fun of- but eddie just. tells him? explains it to him?

and it catches him off guard because no one has done that before, even as King Steve carol would roll her eyes and tommy would laugh whenever he asked them something. whenever he asked questions in class (which was rarely) the teachers told him he should’ve been paying attention but he was- he just didn’t get it

so steve tests it again later on and the same thing happens- even in front of the others, when steve asks a question eddie just tells him without poking fun and it’s… it’s really nice actually

once vecna is defeated and everyone survives (bc fuck you) steve continues to badger eddie with questions, looks to him whenever he doesn’t understand what’s going on and eddie will immediately explain it in a way he can understand

a while after they become good friends, steve just has to ask.

“does it get annoying?”

“…does what get annoying?”

“me asking you about stuff all the time”

but eddie just smiles at him, tells him how he actually loves that steve asks because it means he’s engaged and interested, when eddie is used to people getting bored of his rants/tirades

he tells steve that he loves explaining things to him, loves that he listens and pays attention and steve realizes oh, we’re kind of perfect for each other aren’t we?

he thinks he’s okay with that. especially if eddie keeps smiling at him and telling him about anything and everything he wants to

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #insecurity #dustin henderson #robin buckley #steveddie #steddie fluff #steve harrington whump #fluff and angst #forever pushing my autistic steve agenda so #autistic steve harrington #also #audhd eddie munson #cry about it

[sagelovesbooks]

Holding Him.

Tag: Fluff, angst. No smut.

A/N: This is just a cute little imagine that popped into my head.

Summary: When Tewkesbury has nightmares, you're the one who's there to comfort him.

Tewkesbury couldn't breathe.



Every breath he took felt like the sheets were suffocating him and more as he tried to gasp for air quietly, not wanting to wake his lover who just happened to lay right beside him.

He tries to adjust himself, to no prevail, and instead finds himself in the kitchen, trying to quietly grab a pitcher for a glass of water.

His mother had always called him the clumsy one of the family.

The glass pitcher falls from its place on the shelf after Tewkesbury's fingers graze the glass and it shatters, making a deafening noise. The glass crowds around his feet as he stares down at it, his eyes burning.

Tewkesbury crumbles; the world feels as if it's caving in on him like he was back in the dream that haunted his mind as he sinks to the floor in defeat, squeezing his eyes in anguish.

He hears her footsteps grow closer, her almost completely silent gasp as she sees the mess that surrounds him.

He barely acknowledges her, too busy covering his ears, trying to get the pounding in his mind to stop as memories of the dream taunt him like a child.

He doesn't notice he's shaking until her hands touch his. He feels the tears start to fall as he hides his face in her shoulder, relishing each and every single touch of hers as a reminder that she's still here.

Her hands rub up and down his back like a pattern as he leans his weight into her, the height difference is forgotten as she holds him close, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as she feels her shoulder soak with his tears.

All he needs right now is you.

#louis partridge #enola holmes #tewkesbury x reader #lord tewksbury #viscount tewksbury #tewkesbury #tewkesbury x y/n #tewkesbury imagine #louis partridge x reader #louis partridge imagine #tewkesbury x you #fluff imagine #angst imagine #fluff and angst #y/n

[lenacosse]

In a world of boys, he’s a gentle man

pairings: Jake Peralta x female reader

warnings: Men being men. Angst with happy ending.

word count: 2.6k

summary: You’re having a hard time at work, things are stressing you out and you’re at a crossroad in your relationship with Jake but he’ll always fix his mistakes.

———————————————————————

The blaring of your obnoxious alarm fills your ears. Ripping you from your sleep for another day of work, another day of men undermining you, another day of unsolved crimes.

You reluctantly drag yourself out of your bed and get ready. To make matters worse you and your boyfriend Jake were fighting- you wanted him to move in but his fear of commitment made him laugh the topic off and diminish your feelings. You understood his issues, but it wasn’t fair. So you told him you needed space, and surprisingly he hasn’t contacted you yet. Not that you’re necessarily upset about that, you had mixed feelings.

You arrive to work at 9:12am. And there stands holt an eyebrow raised at you. You sigh and begin.

“I’m sorry sir. I got stuck in traffic.”

“So you’re the only one of my detectives late because of traffic, even though you live closest to the precinct.” Holt gives you a stern look and you just nod and walk into his office. He follows you in and shuts the door, you take a seat.

“I’m sorry captain. I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“I appreciate the apology. But I’m worried about you (Y/L/N), you’re one of the finest detectives in the precinct yet you cannot unsolve simplest of cases?”

“I know. I just have a lot going on right now.”

“Well I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to take your cases and put you onto paperwork tasks. I understand it won’t help but it’s protocol.”

You just nod and exit his room, not looking where you’re going you walk right into Hitchcock who spills his coffee all over you. You take a long breath and look right at him. Violent outbursts weren’t your thing, but the stupidity of the situation is making it hard not to punch him in the face.

“Would you watch where you’re going!” You storm off into the women’s bathroom to dry your shirt off. A worried Amy follows you in.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Amy asks, slowly moving towards you where you stand drying your coffee stained blouse.

You look at Amy and can’t help the tears that are filling your eyes. “I’m sorry i’m fine. It’s not big deal.”

Amy puts a hand on your arm, giving you a reassuring smile. “I know you’ve been stressed recently, and I’m sorry that your cases have been reassigned. But think of it as a break. Now you can have time to think.”

You nod and offer her a smile. Amy was undoubtedly your best friend, she had a way of understanding your feelings and you appreciated that more than you could explain.

“Thank you Ames. you’re amazing.” You and Amy share a hug before she leaves the bathroom. You dry your shirt by which time you’ve collected your thoughts. Allowing you to go back out there with a clear head and better intentions.

Walking back to your desk you get a few reluctant glances, you know it’s bad when people look at your like you’re Rosa. Half way through your first paper work task you get a short tap on your shoulder, you turn around to see Jake. He looks worn down, not as enthusiastic as usual. You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little bit bad, your aim was not to upset Jake when you said you wanted space, but to give yourself time to think. Which you haven’t even had a chance to do yet.

“I brought you a coffee.” Jake says, it was strange to see him so… calm? The main reason you agreed to go out with Jake was because he made you laugh. Because being with him was easy, you didn’t have to change yourself to be with him and that was all anyone could ask for. But the last few days he has been indifferent, you couldn’t help but blame yourself.

“Thank you.” You smile and take the coffee from his hands. Jake nods and starts to walk away, he glances back at you. Continues to walk, glances back again then walks back to you.

“Can.. we talk later? I know you want space but I hate this. I feel bad and it’s just..”

You cut him off with a sympathetic look. “Jake..” you begin, your tone flat.

“Yeah. sorry.” He walks away, this time not looking back.

You sigh and look to your left where Charles is sitting shaking his head and wiping his eyes. You furrow your brows at him and he takes that as an invite over. He walks over to your desk, his shoulders slumped.

“Can I help you Charles?”

“God. I’m so worried about you and jake. These last few days have been utter hell. I haven’t felt this helpless since Elenor and I divorced. I’m so upset I can’t even eat my stake tartare.”

“Maybe that’s for the best Charles, sounds absolutely disgusting.” You shake your head in disgust, “as for me and Jake we are grown adults and can sort it ourselves. Don’t stress.”

“That’s impossible! I’ll talk to Jake. I know how to solve the issue, a nurturing shower where he tenderly washes your hair with lavender shampoo.”

“Seriously?! Go back to your desk.” You shoo him away with your hand. Accepting defeat, sometimes you feel bad for dismissing Charles, but not today.

By lunch time you made a reasonable dent in your paperwork. You glance over to Jake, he’s doing paperwork too. But nothing is distracting him, not even the fact that captain Holt cracked a smile, at least someone’s in a good mood.

“Come on get your stuff we’re going to get lunch.” Rosa says standing in front of your desk with her arms crossed. Behind her is Gina.

“This doesn’t mean I care about you by the way girl. I need a break from my endless paperwork.”

You look over to Gina’s desk and roll your eyes, she had two files sitting there. “Wow I couldn’t imagine it. Is Amy coming?”

“It was her idea to bring you to lunch, then she got out her colour coordinated file of conflict resolution to help you lighten up. So I told her the wrong place, being around nerds is not what I need right now. Poor Amy sitting alone with nothing but her folder.” Gina shrugs.

You grab your jacket and go out with Gina and Rosa. You go to a cafe near the precinct, the cafe echoed with small talk and coffee pots brewing. It was peaceful compared to the loud precinct, the constant keyboard clicks and nonsense talk could of easily driven you mad.

“Damn I think you ruined Jake’s life, he’s a serious depresso these days.” Gina starts.

“I did not ruin his life. I needed space.”

“Why? Did his immaturity get the better of you?” Rosa questioned, you were slightly surprised at her input. Usually an outing with Rosa entails complete silence.

You sigh taking a sip of your drink. “I wanted us to move in together. He brushed it off saying there’s no need. So I told him I needed space from him and time to think, I feel bad sure but I don’t know what to do. It feels like he doesn’t love me enough to work through these issues.” You swallow back the lump in your throat.

“Mmkay well not to give you a compliment but Jake does love you.” Gina retorts. Rosa nods in agreement.

“You always try to get me to talk about my feelings, so take your own advice and go talk to him.” Rosa added.

“I don’t know what to say, we’ve been together for almost two years and it feels like we’re capped at the newly established relationship part.”

“I think that’s enough relationship talk. Who do you think we are, Amy Santiago? No.” Gina scoffed, as she did the food arrived. You sit with your friends eating lunch and listening to Gina talk about her upcoming dance competition and her love for Beyoncé.

———————————————————————

“Thanks for lunch.” You smile at Gina and Rosa as you sit back at your desk.

“Yeah whatever you’re welcome.” Rosa shrugs. You continue with your work, peacefully getting through your tasks with your mood peaking by the minute.

“(Y/N) can you give these files down to officer Smith?” Your sarge Terry asks, you get the files off his desk and get into the elevator to go downstairs.

It was no secret that the officers downstairs were dicks. They didn’t like you, especially officer Smith as you rejected him years ago. Ever since then he’s been making remarks about you attempting to piss you off, this has been applied to Jake as well because he is your boyfriend. Right after stepping out of the elevator you hear a wolf whistle coming from officer Smith. you roll your eyes and walk to his desk handing him the files.

“A present for me? You shouldn’t have.”

You ignore his words and explain the contents of the files, he doesn’t seem to be even paying attention but you didn’t care. That was until he piped up.

“How come you’re giving me files and not Gina?” You go to speak and he puts his finger to his mouth silencing you. “Don’t tell me the nine nine’s lousiest detective has been placed on desk duty.”

“It’s absolutely none of your business. But even so desk duty is much better than being stuck as a first rate officer for eight wasteful years.”

“Ah typical (Y/L/N) being a bitch when she gets her feelings hurt.”

“You’re pathetic. Don’t you get bored of being a dick?”

“You’re Goddamn insufferable. Just shut the fuck up and clear off.”

“Gladly. When you get off your ass for the first time today make sure to leave these files back.”

With that you walk away, but the cruel words that he shouted after had you clenching your fists and unwillingly crying in the elevator. That man knew how to get under your skin and you hated him with a burning passion. As you walk out of the elevator you wipe your eyes trying to mask the fact you’ve been embarrassingly crying. And once again you collide with someone. Their hands steady you by grabbing your shoulders. You sigh and look up, seeing Jake with a concerned look plastered on his face.

“Are you crying?”

“No.” You scoff as if you’re offended by the accusation.

“What happened?”

“Just Officer Smith being a dick.” You mumble.

His thumb lightly brushes a stray tear from your eye, you unwillingly melt into his touch, it’s warm and makes you feel safe.

“Whatever he said to you is irrelevant. He’s the biggest jerk ever. Don’t stoop down to his level and listen to what he has to say. You’re worth so much more than that.”

“Thank you Jake.” You run your thumb over his knuckles, a soft smile apparent on your face. Jake squeezed your hand three times, and you return the gesture. His face immediately brightens up, your eyes meet and you find yourself getting lost in his.

You hear a clearing of a throat, you look to your side seeing captain Holt stood with him arms crossed. You immediately drop Jake’s hand and he lets go of your shoulder. You both go back to your own desks. Today has made you realise talking to Jake is the best solution, it was only making you both miserable being apart. So you write him a note reading: ‘want to come over later?’ You throw it at him and it hits him in the head.

You watch his reaction to reading it. He scribbles something back on the page and throws it in your direction, but unluckily it hits Holt right in the face as he walks past your desk. You watch Jake’s eyes widen like a deer in headlights as he quickly looks down and pretends to be writing.

“Who on earth threw that?!” Holt rages. Everyone looks up from their desks yet no one takes accountability. Holt picks up the paper and reads it out. “Want to come over later? As long as we can watch die hard. (Ps. that shirt you’re wearing looks hot af)”

Your face turns a deep crimson as you look down at your desk, refusing eye contact. Everyone is quiet, mostly likely mentally scarred by the note. until Charles pipes up.

“WOOHOO!” He yells. “my dream couple are back. Did take my advice Jakey?”

“No Charles. I did not spoon feed her duck soup!”

“Gosh it’s a miracle things worked out.” Charles replied. You look over to Amy who looks just as disgusted as you from Charles’ statement.

“You two my office. Now.” Holt says whilst walking back to his office.

Jake follows behind you into Holt’s office, you both take a seat as does Holt. He does not look happy, or so you assume. He was difficult to read.

“Today started wonderfully. Everyone had work done. I even cracked a smile.” Holt starts. “However you two acting like teenagers is ridiculous! Throwing notes to each other like you’re in middle school?”

“(Y/L/N) started it.” Jake shakes his head in dismay. “She’s such a child.”

“Shut up Peralta.” You smack his arm, making him pull a classic face at you. You roll your eyes and cross you arms looking back at your captain.

“If you two can’t act mature then I’ll have to come up with a plan to keep you apart.”

You both mutter a sorry and he dismisses you. Of course the second you step out of his office you look at Jake and the both of you burst out laughing.

“What did I just say!” Holt shouts out, you both stop laughing and immediately go back to your desks.

———————————————————————

Your door knocked and you went to answer it. standing there is Jake with flowers, a tiny teddy bear and a bag full of snacks. You smile and let him in, letting him know the pizza is on its way.

“For you my lady.” Jake says in a God awful posh accent. You take the flowers and other things from him. You find yourself blushing at the thought of him buying you these things.

“Well aren’t you just a gentleman.” You kiss his cheek, he takes your chin in his hand and moves your face to look at him. Your foreheads touch and he leans in to kiss you, the kiss is tender and loving. You run your free hand through his hair and slowly pull back.

“I’m sorry for not taking things seriously.”

“It’s okay.”

“No I was being an idiot. I love what we have, and of course I want to move in with you. But that freaked me out and I was unfair. I want you to know that I would do anything for you. I want this for us, I want to come home with you every night, I want to wake up next to you every morning. I’m serious about you, I should have just told you that from the start. but I messed things up and to think that I almost ruined us-“

You shut him up by kissing him, you feel his smile against your lips. His hands go to your hips pulling you closer. You slowly pull away and he pulls you into a hug. The scent his cologne fades all the worries and doubts, it was simple. Jake was the only possible person you ever wanted to be with, and things would work out because you both were dedicated to making it work.

“Thank you.” You slowly pull back and stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“Okay I’m glad that worked out because I already sold my apartment.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course you did.” You tease.

The pizza arrives and the two of you lay on your couch together, eating pizza and watching die hard for the thousandth time. At this point you swear you could recite the script. But if it makes Jake happy then it makes you happy.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #boyfriend! jake peralta #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #b99 #brooklyn 99 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #angst with a happy ending #light angst #fluff and angst #amy santiago #rosa diaz #gina linetti #charles boyle

[metalhoops]

Steve was going to die crouched behind a picnic table in an unfamiliar town. That’s how he saw it, anyway. 

He’d been looking for Robin. That’s where it all went wrong. She hadn’t shown up for work at the video store that Saturday morning. It wasn’t like her. The two had just started at their new job and it was a goddamn Saturday. Steve had been run off his feet all day. 

At the end of his shift, he couldn’t help but look for her. Since the incident with the Russians, both he and Robin had their days where they would disappear, but they’d always let the other know they were safe. 

Steve never used to be a worst-case-scenario kind of guy until everything with The Upside Down. All day he’d felt panic rising in his stomach. What if she’d been taken by demogorgons or kidnapped by secret government operatives?

He drove the BMW past all of Robin’s familiar haunts. She wasn’t at home or at Steve’s place. The school was closed, so she couldn’t be at band and she’d have asked him to drive her to the movies.

That’s when he started to check the places he didn’t want to find her. The Junkyard, Lover’s Lake, and the remains of the Hawkins lab.  She wasn’t there. It was then he recalled a conversation they’d had last Sunday. 

“All right, I’ve got some more evidence,” Robin had exclaimed days before, and Steve had known exactly what she was talking about. 

“Well don’t hold out on me, Rob,” Steve pushed, pulling out a notebook he should’ve been using to keep track of people’s late rental returns. 

Instead, it harboured two columns and a series of tallies, an ode to their Scoops Days Steve was secretly proud of thinking up. ‘Vicky likes boobies’, proclaimed one column while the other argued, ‘Vicky doesn’t like boobies’. He’d never said he was mature. Plus Steve got a kick out of watching Robin squirm. They’d been trying to work out if Vicky was a viable crush. Steve thought she was but so far the columns were an even split. 

“Last night I saw her car parked outside the fairgrounds in the next town over. Any other day of the week and I wouldn’t think it was weird, but Saturday night, it’s a spot, you know?” Steve didn’t know. 

“A spot?” He echoed. 

“Yeah, you know? Like how skull rock is ‘a spot’ but it’s only for certain kinds of people.” Steve’s brow pinched together and he nodded. 

He could imagine what Robin was implying. He’d added another tally to his favourite side and thought nothing more of it until he’d run out of places to look for Robin in Hawkins. It was a Saturday night. It was a long shot, but he’d take it.

Steve drove to the next town over and was surprised to see a smattering of cars at the fairground. There were a handful of boys in their twenties sitting on picnic benches around a boombox playing music Steve was vaguely familiar with. Then there were a couple of girls sipping beer and passing the bottle around. 

If you didn’t know, it’d seem like any other half-assed party but if you knew what to look for, you’d know you were in the right place. Steve didn’t know when he’d become the kind of person who knew what to look for. 

One of the guys had his hand tucked into the back pocket of another’s jeans. Then, of course, he saw his fair share of coloured hankies, carabineers and key rings. Sometimes, Steve actually listened when Robin talked to him about that kind of stuff. He figured it must get lonely, not having anyone to talk to about those things. He wanted to be a good friend even if he couldn’t relate to Robin. Steve liked girls. That was the beginning and end of it.  

He studied each of the partygoers' faces and felt his throat begin to constrict. Robin wasn’t there. Where the hell was she? This had been the last stone left unturned. Now what? 

Steve’s heartbeat was a kick drum, threatening to crack his ribs in two as it burst from his chest cavity. His vision began to tunnel and a ringing in his ears swelled to a crescendo as he crouched behind an abandoned picnic table.

What if something happened to her? How the hell was he meant to find her? 

Steve felt a hand on his shoulder. 

He looked up with a start, almost leaping out of his skin when he saw one of the boy’s faces inches from his. The space was dark, illuminated only by the moon and the intermittent flickering of car headlights.

“Hey. You’re okay. Just breathe with me for a second, alright?” The boy instructed.

His voice was vaguely familiar, but Steve couldn’t string together a coherent set of thoughts. His body was focused on not keeling over. He tried to copy the overdramatised rise and fall of the boy’s chest. 

“There you go,” the boy soothed as Steve’s breathing evened out. 

“Guessing, it’s your first time here. Don’t worry too much about it. The first time I went to a gay bar in Indy I had a panic attack in the bathroom.” Munson. The voice belonged to Eddie Munson, Steve’s brain supplied at last. 

They’d gone to high school together. Though Steve wasn’t sure if the guy had graduated. He vaguely recalled Eddie hating all jocks on principal and Steve had tried to give the boy a wide berth because of it. Turned out he was the type to hang out at gay bars. Okay. 

There was no way Eddie recognised Steve. He was being way too nice to him. Maybe Munson was a good guy. Steve hadn’t taken the time to find out back then. Steve hadn’t really been a good person. He was trying hard to be better.

“No one’s tried to push you into anything, right? Because that’s not what this place is about. I might not be able to kick anyone’s ass, but I know a guy who could,” Eddie commented, confirming Steve’s suspicions. He was a good guy. 

“No. I’m good... I’m looking for someone,” Steve breathed, hoping maybe Munson would’ve seen Robin. 

Then again, if Eddie hadn’t seen her, he’d be outing Robin, which Steve knew was a shitty thing to do. Eddie spoke before Steve had the chance to decide what he was going to say.

“You see him around?” Eddie asked, moving to sit beside Steve on the grass, scanning the crowd. 

Oh. Eddie assumed Steve was... That was fair. He was at ‘a spot’. He guessed he could work with that. 

“I think he stood me up,” Steve covered, looking for an excuse to get out of there. 

“His loss,” Eddie mused, placing a hand on Steve’s knee. Oh, no. Flirting. 

“I should get out of here,” Steve stuttered, jerking upwards.

“Right, shit. Sorry. Too strong,” Eddie spoke half to Steve, half to himself as he stood up and dusted grass from his jeans.  

“Don’t let me spook you. Seriously. You look like you need a night out. I can sit all the way over there and we can pretend this never happened,” Eddie proposed. 

Steve was dreading the ride back to Hawkins, knowing if he went home now, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Steve surprised himself by shaking his head. 

“No, I don’t want you to... just... don’t go. This isn’t something I do. I could use the company.” Steve was surprised at the words as they left his mouth. In what world did Steve Harrington want to hang out with Eddie Munson?

“Alright, no funny business, I promise. I’ve got some beer in a cooler. We could keep things all PG-13,” Eddie proposed, leading Steve to where the aforementioned cooler was stashed on a free picnic bench. 

“I’ve got to drive back home, but I could stay for a bit,” Steve remarked, sitting down beside Eddie’s cooler on the tabletop. 

He tried to focus on the distant music and the sound of passing cars. His thoughts kept returning to Robin. He dug his thumbnail into the table, scratching at the splintering wood as he tried to stop his mind from reeling. 

“Is your place far from here?” Eddie questioned, sitting beside Steve and lounging back on his elbows, glancing up at the night sky. 

“That wasn’t a preposition, by the way,” Eddie clarified quickly. 

“I was just trying to make conversation. Christ, man. I’m shit at this.”

“Shit at what?” Steve questioned absentmindedly, glad to have a distraction. 

Eddie grabbed a strand of hair and coyly hid a smile behind it. 

“You know. Talking to pretty guys.’ 

It wasn’t like no one had called Steve ‘pretty’ before. They had. But they’d always done it as an insult. He’d heard the word, ‘pretty boy’, spat through gritted teeth a handful of times, but no one had ever made it sound like a good thing, like something Steve wanted to be. 

It was strange. Steve hadn’t been lying when he said this wasn’t something he usually did. He wasn’t gay. He didn’t hang out with men in a way that walked the tightrope between platonic and flirtatious, but he’d gone on a lot of dates with girls, some that’d been far worse than the way his night was panning out. Steve was surprised at just how comfortable and familiar the setting felt.  

“I’m from Hawkins,” Steve admitted, feeling Eddie’s keen eyes on his profile. 

“Small world. Me too.” Everyone knew everyone in Hawkin’s. It’d only be a matter of time before Eddie placed him. Then what? He couldn’t imagine Eddie would want to hang out with him for long after that. 

“I came here with a buddy but I’m pretty sure he’s screwed off by now, you mind giving me a lift? Think we could both use the company.” 

Steve was always driving the kids around, that’s what he was good at, and it’d be a distraction. Steve nodded before he could think any better of it. 

“I can do that. You say the word,” Steve muttered and followed Eddie’s eyes to the stars. 

“Soon, give me a few minutes to enjoy the view”. 

That was the one good thing about small towns in the dead of night. The stars could really shine, painting their way across the sky, all milk and moonbeams. For once, Steve wasn’t thinking of the things lurking in the shadows. 

He could hardly make out the features of Eddie’s face, but he couldn’t help but think, if this was like the dates he’d been on with girls, this was the point where he’d kiss them. It’d be romantic. At heart, Steve had always been a romantic.

A car pulled up close to the two boys, bathing them in yellowed light. Eddie’s face turned to look at Steve. His eyes swelled wide with recognition. He’d expected Eddie to be shocked, this was the last place Steve would expect to find himself on an ordinary day. What he didn’t anticipate was Eddie jerking back as though Steve had physically hit him, his body tumbling backwards off the bench and onto the grassy lot. 

“Holy Hell, Harrington,” Eddie choked out, as he tried to pull himself back to his feet, staggering. Right. Steve should’ve known this wasn’t going to end well. He should just leave now. 

“I thought your voice sounded familiar. Christ. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. Here? Holy shit.” 

Steve stood, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to eyeball the best path to the Beamer, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but there. 

“I’m going to go...” Steve began but was cut off by a wild flailing of limbs and Eddie’s hand encircling his wrist. 

“Sorry. Shit. Sorry. Steve, Stevie. Wait. You surprised me.” Eddie placated, his eyes swollen wide as he looked at his fingers around Steve’s limb. It was as though his body had grabbed Steve of its own volition. 

Steve couldn’t help but notice the muffled conversations from the surrounding tables had quietened. 

“I get it if you don’t want to take me home, but I won’t tell anyone... you know. Cross my heart, dude.” 

Steve hadn’t been worried about that until now. His heart rate sped up again. He wasn’t queer but if rumour got around. His dad would kill him. Steve wasn’t sure that the statement was hyperbolic. Eddie must have seen something in Steve’s face, because his grip on his wrist tightened. 

“Promise I won’t. Look, somehow I’ve managed to collect your little flock of ducklings into my D&D club at school. They think you’re a good dude. That’s good enough for me.” 

Steve trusted Eddie. He shouldn’t. He told himself he was dumb for doing so, but his instincts won out. 

“Well, come on then, if you still want a ride,” Steve grumbled, pulling Eddie along with him to the BMW. 

The two talked on the ride back to Hawkins, but all of it was inconsequential. It was just what Steve needed. Eddie rambled about the kids, something he and Steve had in common. It was the only thing Steve knew they had in common besides the fact Eddie thought they were gay, or at least that they both liked men. 

It should’ve been awkward talking to Eddie, knowing the guy would’ve slept with him if given the chance, but surprisingly it wasn’t. Maybe that’s how Robin had felt about him at the beginning of their friendship. No. Don’t think about Robin. She was safe. She had to be. Steve would know if she wasn’t. 

“What happened to you, Steve?” He heard Eddie ask out of the blue and realised his fingers had been gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned bone white. 

Steve didn’t know how to answer the question in a way that wouldn’t spur on deeper probing, so he said, “Nothing”. The reply seemed to tell Eddie everything he needed to know. 

“I guess I grew up,” Steve supplied lamely.

“I wasn’t talking about how you don’t hang out with the same dicks from school. You stopped doing that before you graduated. Don’t ask me how I know that. Don’t make me say it. You’ve always been pretty, is all I’ll say. This is different. You never used to look so... haunted.” 

What was Steve supposed to say to that? He didn’t say anything, just turned the radio up and wondered how Eddie Munson, of all people, saw right through him. 

When they pulled up out front of the Munson’s trailer, Eddie paused, looking Steve over. 

“Hey, Harrington? You still all on your lonesome in that big old mansion of yours?” Steve rolled his eyes but nodded.

“Well, would you look at that? Me too. I mean, minus the mansion. Want to not be alone, together?” 

“I’ve got work in the morning,” Steve deflected as he found himself switching off the car and following Eddie up to the front door. 

“Won’t bother me. I sleep like the dead.” 

Steve was a horrible sleeper, not that it would matter. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping that night. Maybe in the morning if he couldn’t find Robin he should call Nancy. She knew everything about missing friends, about knowing something was wrong and yet feeling like you had no one to turn to. He wished he’d been that person for Nancy years before but he hadn’t and there was nothing he could do about that now. 

Steve found himself tucked into the corner of Eddie’s bed. The two boys had stripped off their jeans but kept their shirts on. He kept comparing the night to dates he’d had in the past. He kept thinking how easy it felt to do the same with a man. Steve liked women, he knew that, but he was beginning to entertain the idea he might be able to like men. Couple that crisis with his worries that Robin was somewhere alone and hurting and you had one messy knot of emotions Steve didn’t know how to unpick. 

“Night, Stevie,” Eddie muttered, as his hand made its way to rest on his inner thigh. His breath smelled of alcohol. 

“This okay?” He clarified. Yes, Eddie was a good guy and Steve wished he’d known that sooner. 

“Yeah,” Steve admitted because it was okay, much to his surprise.

When Eddie did eventually fall asleep, he rolled over, keeping one hand on Steve’s thigh and slinging the other over Steve’s chest, somehow ending face down in the crook of Steve’s neck. He smelled of beer and smoke. It was the longest night of Steve’s life. 

True to his word, Eddie remained sound asleep as Steve extracted himself from under him come morning. He paused to jot his number down on a notebook beside Eddie’s bed, surprising himself once again. He hadn’t gotten or wanted a second date with anyone in months. He wasn’t sure this was classified as a first date, but it had him wanting more of whatever it was. 

Steve parked outside Robin’s place, surprised to find her waiting for him in the driveway, unharmed and applying her makeup with the help of a compact mirror as though it were any other day. 

“You look like crap,” Robin noted as she slid into the passenger seat. 

Steve could cry. Steve would’ve cried if it hadn’t been for years worth of emotional repression. 

“You weren’t at work yesterday,” Steve said by way of explanation. 

“Yeah. I went to Indianapolis for my aunt’s birthday. I told you I was going last week.” 

Oh. Steve had forgotten. He nodded, then sniffed pathetically, pretty sure he was about to cry. Robin was fine. She’d never been in danger. She placed her hand over his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Dingus, were you worried about me?” She teased, trying to lighten the mood. He shook his head, a blatant lie. 

“So worried you didn’t go on one of your crappy Saturday night dates or do you have another story to tell me about how you stuck out with a smoking hot babe... again.” That brought Steve to his second crisis. 

“Kind of.” Robin raised a brow.

“Kind of? Steve Harrington, since when are you coy about the people you date? Dude, when it comes to me you have no boundaries.” She was right. 

“I think I went on a date with a guy,” Steve admitted, not meeting Robin’s eye as she let out an inhuman squeak. 

“I was gone for one goddamn day and that’s the day you decide to date a guy?” She gasped, smacking his arm. 

In retrospect, it was pretty funny. Steve’s urge to cry was suddenly stifled as his body rocked with laughter. 

“I think I owe you one, actually,” Steve admitted, knowing he wasn’t going to hear the end of it. 

Read Part 2 Here

#steddie #steddie Drabble #drabble #ficlet #steddie ficlet #first meeting #pre season 4 #au #steve harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #robin buckley #bi steve harrington #fluff and angst #steve x eddie #Metalhoops writes

[mewhenimanangel]

everywhere ʚɞ miles morales x reader

pairing: 42!miles morales x reader

synopsis: you were a wreck. it’s your mom’s one year anniversary since she passed. miles helps you feel better

wc: 3.0k

warnings!: swearing, death, death jokes, violence, kissing, n word used

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you begrudgingly pulled your blanket off you and went to the bathroom to brush your teeth. you were fighting so hard to not crawl back in your bed and sob into your pillow. it was the anniversary of your mom's death and all you wanted to do was cry.

you got in your uniform and put sunscreen and lotion on your face, not bothering to do anything else. you grabbed your bag and your phone and went out your door. your dad was standing there making coffee when he turned around to walk over to you and embrace you in a hug. "good morning baby" he pulled you back to see your quivering lip.

"i know, i miss her too. say what how about i make her special pasta that she always made. or at least attempt to." he joked. "yeah sure whatever" you fanned your tears and went out the door. safiya was standing outside your building waiting to walk with you. "hey bebe how you doing?" she rubbed your back. " i'm fine" you faked a smile. she knew you were lying but she didn't say anything and you two just walked to school.

your classes went by quickly, probably because you spent 90% of them staring out the window. currently you were in physics class doing the exact same thing, it's been a month since your schedule switched and you and miles grew a little closer, as close as he'd let you. you'd exchanged numbers and followed each other on social media. and he would join you and safiya on the walk home, silently walking at your side while you chat with your best friend.

miles looked through the side of his eye and noticed you hadn't even picked up your pencil since class started and were just staring into space, dejected expression on your face. he nudged your shoulder and whispered "what's up with you today, chiquita?"

"mm? oh, nothing." you mumbled looking back down on your desk. "you ain't even write your name, ms bennett's gonna get on your ass" he snickered. you just snorted a bit before going back to stare out the window. it was a rainy day out, how ironic.

he could tell something was off with you so he decided to help you out. "here, i'm done" he moved his paper to your desk. "just copy it" he told you.

you smiled at him before writing down everything he had on his paper, on yours. "you look different today" referring to your bare face "in a good way" he added when he saw your eyebrows furrow. "um thanks" you finished your paper just in time for the bell to ring.

you were in the bathroom washing your hands when the melanie came in. "oh..hi y/n, we miss you in math" she said with a condescending smile on her face. you rolled your eyes and dried your hands before getting ready to leave. "oh by the way since your fine daddy's single, do you think you could give him my number." you face twisted in disgust and you turned around and shoved her up against the wall. "fucking say shit bout my parents again and i'll fucking kill you." you snapped, pushing her head back against the wall.

"bitch is that a fucking threat?!" she pushed you off her. "yes bitch! i'll fucking gut-" "girls, where are we supposed to be??" a hall monitor interrupted coming into the bathroom. you grumbled an insult before pushing pass her and heading to the roof.

miles looked over from his conversation and saw you storming off from the bathroom, melanie following shorty after with the monitor trailing behind her. "yo i'll see you later aight" he dapped his friend up and followed behind you.

his eyebrows furrowed when he saw you sneak through the rooftop door. he followed through the door and snuck up the stairs. he saw you hunched over on the ground and he could hear your sniffles from here. he didn't mean to slam the door but he did and it startled you. you darted your head over your shoulders, quickly wiping your tears when you saw him. "what are you doing here?" you put your head back on your knees. "saw you when you stormed outta the bathroom, you looked upset. then i saw you come up here and i wanted to make sure you ain't kill yourself" he joked, making you giggle.

"why you up here anyway? and why you crying?" he asked, sitting down next to you. "i told mr brown i'd water the garden." your voice was breaking. "doesn't explain why you're crying ma" he looked at you. you didn't say anything for a moment, taking a deep breath before you opened your mouth. "today was the day my mom died, like a year ago today" you told explained. "i promised myself i wasn't gonna cry today but that fucking cunt melanie loves to piss me off"

"that why you said you fought her?" he asked. "mhm" you mumbled. "well she's a fucking bitch. don't take that shit from her." he told you, you nodding your head. "but...i get it. my dad's dead and when he died, niggas thought something was funny? so that's why i had beat lincoln's ass" he said. "god the people here suck so bad. m'sorry about your dad." you told him. "it's aight, i'm sorry about your mom" you smiled and nodded your head, holding back the tears that dared to slip down your face. "it's alright to cry ma. don't hold back i'm not gonna judge you"

you blinked and your tears came flowing down your face, you leaned your head on his shoulder and he didn't move it he just let you cry. "i just wanna go see her grave, but it's all the way in westchester" you wiped your tears. he stayed silent for a moment "then let's go see it. i have my license and i know where my dad's old car is" he told you, rising to his feet. "what? we can't do that. we have school and you can't just take your dad's car." you rose to yours too.

"what, is he gonna stop me?" he said making you giggle. "that's crazy. you don't have to do this really it's fine" "it's alright, if it'll make you feel better i don't mind. come on let's go through the door in the green hallway" he said going through the roof door, you following behind. you opened your phone to tell safiya you were skipping with miles.

'miles is taking me to my mom's grave??😭

we're ditching come with us' you sent the text.

'girl WHAT 💀' she sent.

'that emoji feels familiar 🤔' you sent back.

'stop. anyways i cant come, bout to start a test. just be safe baby. i love you' she sent back.

miles scoped out the hallway making sure no teachers or monitors were around. he pushed through the door and you two made a break for it down the street. "wait, i wanna get something" you pointed to the grocery store down the street.

you both went in and you picked up a bouquet of pink roses, her favorite flowers, from the front. you went to another aisle and picked up a pack of ferrero rocher chocolates "these were her favorite. one time my dad stood her up with work on valentine's day so she and i watched her favorite movie and ate a whole big pack of these. we were so sick afterwards. after i threw up she gave me medicine and sang me to sleep" you lightly laughed, biting your lips to hold back your tears. "she sounds great" he said giving you a comforting smile. "she really was"

you checked out and miles took you to an old garage, tugging open the door, a black buick sat on the other side. "does this even still work?" you asked opening the door. "should. if not i'll just make it" he turned the key in the ignition, engine sputtering in response. he groaned, opening the electrical system. he pulled out two wires, hitting them together until a spark emerged and the engine started. he looked at you with a cocky smile "there, all we need is some gas" "how do you know how to do that?" you asked putting on your seatbelt. "don't worry bout it" he drove off.

after stopping at a gas station and filling up the tank, you two drove the hour and a half drive to westchester graveyard. he let you control the music and would occasionally glance over at you while you just stared out the window. he watched you put your legs up in criss cross apple sauce and doze off, smiling at the way your mouth fell open and he could hear your soft snoring.

he pulled into a nearby parking lot and tapped your thigh "we're here" he told you. you stretched and rubbed your eyes, looking around to make sure it was the right place. "you were snoring mad hard" he teased you. "i was not!" you gasped. "yes you were" "nuh uh, i do not snore" you retorted. "yes you do, could barely hear the music" he lied. you rolled your eyes fondly and opened the car door, grabbing the chocolates and the flowers.

he followed your lead to her headstone and you let yourself plop down next to it, resting the flowers down gently. "hey mom" you leaned your head back. "miss you, god even after a year it still doesn't feel real" your voice was breaking and miles figured he'd back off a little, sitting back on a bench nearby.

"i'm a junior now, me and safiya are still as close as ever but i've been making new friends. dad and i have been weird but if feels like it's getting back to normal now?? his cooking still sucks ass tho" you giggled "oh i got a job now, i'm a barista at mel's. i've been letting my hair grow longer and i redecorated my room. i started reading those poetry books that you had always wanted me to and brandy's been in my playlists on repeat, maybe it's silly to do this because i like to think that you know all this already cause you're watching over me."

"i miss you so much mommy. god i wish you would just come back, how is this not some stupid joke" you wiped your tears, but they wouldn't stop streaming down your face. you turned around and kneeled, knees sinking into the soil beneath you, hands resting on top. you couldn't control it anymore you let out a broken cry and shoved your face in your hands.

you felt miles tap your shoulder and pulled you to your feet. you looked at him, face scrunched up with bloodshot teary eyes. he moved a hand up to your cheek wiping away the tears that rolled down your face. "ugh this is embarrassing" you grumbled, shoving your face in his chest, and he put his arms around your shoulders. "it really isn't. i get it y/n, trust me it'll be okay. i'm not saying it's gon stop hurting but it'll hurt a little less with time." he told you.

he reached in his book bag and took out a small pack of tissues. he handed them to you so you could wipe your tears off. "put your leg up" he told you putting his hand on the underneath of your knee. you put your hands on his shoulders to support yourself and he used the tissues to clean your knees. you let out a small laugh "thanks. really thank you so much for this, you genuinely did not have to do this at all." "it's alright ma"

you checked your phone seeing a missed call and  texts rom your dad. 'where you at? school call me tell me you not there??' 'answer me before i call the police' they read. you giggled a little before telling him you were in westchester, which he did not take lightly and told you you were in trouble but right now you didn't care.

you went to the bench miles was sitting on and grabbed the chocolates. "you wanna eat some with me?" you asked him, holding out one to his hand. "you not gonna eat till you throw up right. i don't fuck with vomit." he put out his hand. "no!" you laughed which made him smile.

the two of you sat there on the bench for about another half an hour talking about whatever. your parents, your lives outside of school and knowing each other, etc. while eating the chocolates. you stopped yourself before you got too into them. "ah we should probably start driving back" you told him. "you sure?" he looked at you. "yeah, dad said i'm in trouble when i get home anyways" you got up and closed the container.

"well. since you're already out can i take you somewhere?" he asked. you twisted your mouth in thought "but my dad-" "well if you're already in trouble when you get back why not stay out a little longer" you let him convince you and got in the car for the drive back to brooklyn.

when you got to brooklyn he drove straight past your buildings and to a nearby unused subway station. you went down and he walked you all the way to the end of the platform going onto the side of the tracks. "alright are you trying to fucking kill me" you hesitated in following him. he chuckled "relax ma, no trains run here anymore it's an old track" he put his hand out to you and you took it and you both walked down the tracks. "alright we gotta hop the fence" he told you.

"are you crazy" you furrowed your eyebrows at him. "it's not even that high up, i'll go first" he climbed the fence and jumped down, swiftly landing on his feet. you followed behind and lost your balance when you were on top causing you to fall over but not before he caught you and put you down. "will you chill out" he laughed at your annoyed expression.

you kept walking for about a minute until you saw a wall full of graffiti. "my uncle takes me down here sometimes and we just paint" he told you, tossing a can at you. "you wanna do a mural for her?" he asked you. you smiled and nod your head "what does she look like?" he asked you. you pulled out your phone and opened the photo album you had dedicated to her, picked a photo and gave him the phone.

"wow she's beautiful. you guys look like twins" he said holding up the phone to a blank part of the wall. "she should fit right in there." "you think i know how to spray paint?" you said shaking the can. "i can help you."

and so he did, he found a color to match her skin tone and her facial features. he did most of the artwork, putting you on his shoulders to do the hair and the top of the rose. you stepped back and admired the finished product. it was your mom with a big smile on her face with her signature red lip, you added details such as your matching necklace, the beauty mark on her cheek, her smile lines and a hand that held a single pink rose.

you smiled and tears stung your eyes, mix of happy and sad but mostly happy. you looked at the time and saw it was almost 9 o'clock. "ohh my dad is gonna kill me" you groaned. "do you think you could take me home now?" you asked him. "yeah it's mad late" he picked up his bookbag and you guys walked back out of the track.

he drove the car back to the garage and you grabbed your book bag before you guys  got out, walking to your block getting to the front of your building. "thank you for today, like seriously. i don't know anybody who would've drove me out for two hours just to sit at a grave." you giggled. "you were sad and i didn't like that, wanted to make you feel better." he nudged your shoulder. "you did make me feel better, thank you" you threw your arm around him, pulling him into a tight hug wrapping around his waist.

you threw your arms up to his face, pinching his cheeks "who knew you were such a big softy morales" you said in a playful baby voice. he rolled his eyes before looking into yours, face softening. your hands were still on his face and his were still around your torso.

your eyes flickered down to his lips before going back to his eyes, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. you quickly pulled back "oh sorry! don't know what came over me" you frantically apologized. "don't apologize" he whispered before pulling you back in. you threw your arms around his neck, hand rubbing against his fade. his hands were on your waist pulling you closer to him.

you were interrupted by your dad poking through the window five stories up. "y/n! you had me going crazy wondering what the hell you were doing and you out here kissing boys?!" he shouted, baffled expression on his face. "girl get inside" he told you through gritted teeth. "goodnight miles" you giggled pulling away from him. "g'night" he said back to you. "and boy who your parents is? cause i will be giving them a call! got my damn daughter out at night kissing all up on her" he pointed at miles, grumbling the last part. "dad relax!" you shouted up at him. "get inside!" "what does it look like i'm doing?!" you shouted back, opening the building door.

taglist ౨ৎ

@prettypink-princesss @itsnotino @r3d0n33 @iluvprowlermiles @jmsanchoo

#NIA WRITES ࿐ #across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles x black reader #spider man: across the spider verse #prowler miles #earth 42 prowler #black reader #fluff and angst

[mediumgayitalian]

“You haven’t been sleeping, again.”

Nico hums, eyes fluttering shut under Will’s gently touch. His thumbs are calloused — years of endless determination with a bow and a guitar — and tickle the sensitive skin of his eyebags, but he welcomes the feeling. He goes so far as to lean into his touch, grinning when he hears Will’s fond huff.

“Why haven’t you come to me?”

“It’s just started,” Nico promises, turning his head to press a kiss to Will’s palm. He smiles, although it doesn’t reach his eyes, worry swimming in lakes of blue as he continues to gently brush his thumb just above Nico’s cheekbone.

“Still.” He exhales deeply, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment; when he looks back over his expression is urgent. “You worry me, darlin’.”

“You’re a worrier.”

“Still,” Will repeats. He presses their foreheads together. “Can I help? I want to help.”

“Hm.” He takes Will’s closeness as an opportunity, wrapping both hands around his hips and tugging him forward, gently, until Will gets the hint, wrapping his arms around him in turn and clinging tightly. He lifts his head and tucks it back into the crook of his head. Nico tips forward just slightly enough to press his lips in the dip behind his ear, lingering, more of a press to skin than a kiss; somewhere more to touch.

“I want you to sleep well,” Will admits, voice small, almost lost in the wrinkles of Nico’s heavy sweater. “I want — ease. I want you to eat ‘till you’re full and smile when you feel like it and sleep through the night. And be healthy, and feel strong, and —”

“I know, vita,” Nico interrupts softly. Will’s hold tightens, and his does in turn. “I know.”

“Let me spend the night.”

“…Okay.”

He feels the bob of Will’s throat as he swallows, feels the slightest tremor across his broad shoulders. “I’ll keep watch. That way you can — you can —”

“Thank you.”

Will nods. Nico pretends he doesn’t feel the wetness that drips onto his neck, doesn’t feel the way he shakes. He knows he feels — useless, sometimes, when Nico is plagued by nightmares, when he struggles. It frustrates him not to be able to fix it. Nico doesn’t know how to explain that it will never be fixed — but he helps. He always helps.

“You’re like morphine personified,” he teases — the closest he can come. “Relieving, addicting, sweet, and deadly in high doses.”

As Nico had hoped, Will snorts, swatting him gently on the shoulder before straightening. He sniffles, once, swiping the tears under his eyes.

“That doesn’t even make sense, you loser.”

Nico grins back unashamedly. “Doesn’t need to. I met my goal.”

He’s rewarded with a slight pinking of Will’s cheek, even as he rolls his eyes; clearly, obviously pleased. Nico can’t help stretching to his tiptoes and pressing a long, lingering kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“Love you too, baby.”

#pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #solangelo #nico/will #will/nico #nico di angelo #will solace #soft solangelo #fluff #fluff and angst #established relationship #my writing #fic #i imagine they’re older in this #eighteen maybe

[yu-huuuu]

Madara smiled as you nestled your face against his neck. He felt his heart flutter with happiness and tenderness as he heard your giggle while he planted a soft kiss on your head.

His arms wrapped around you as the darkness of the room enveloped both of you, but that didn't even matter to him, not as long as he had you in his arms. The warmth of your body pressed against his lulled him to sleep along with the gentle scent of your silky hair.

Madara scoffed at how ridiculous this whole situation was. The man who lead the grand Uchiha clan, the man who could defeat tailed beasts with just his eyes... was defeated by the warmth and tenderness of your embrace.

"Madara", your soft and sweet voice like honey called out to him from the dimness of his sleep, successfully pulling him away from the reverie you had put him in.

He hummed unwilling to pull away from you, simply not wanting to let go of your warmth. His cold hands warmed with the touch of your back. His heart, which sometimes he felt stopped beating, now beat softly and so wonderfully against his chest, making him feel alive after not being by your side all day.

The soft touch of your hand against his cheek caused him to open his eyes, meeting your gaze that looked at him without any fear. Obsidian met the rich color of your eyes. Madara felt his chest flutter. Unconsciously he leaning his head more towards the warmth of your hand, trying to enjoy your touch as much as he could.

"Madara"

There it went again, his name coming out of your soft lips making his ears feel warm. He leaned in trying to meet your eyes. "Yes?"

"Wake up"

He remained silent for a moment, completely confused about what you meant. "What?"

"Please, wake up", you pleaded as your precious eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"I... I don't understand"

"Madara, please wake up, this can't go on like this"

.

.

.

.

.

"Madara... I'm dead"

.

.

.

.

"Please... wake up"

.

.

.

"Wake up"

…

Madara woke up from his dream.

Feeling again like a dead man longing for the warmth of a woman who was also dead.

...

fluff and angst? yes please

#naruto shippuden #madara x reader #madara x you #madara uchiha #madara uchiha x reader #uchiha madara #naruto scenarios #naruto x reader #naruto #naruto madara #naruto fanfiction #naruto shipuden fanfiction #madarafanfiction #naruto imagines #fluff smut #naruto au #naruto universe #fluff and angst #naruto fluff #naruto anime #hashirama #tobirama #naruto fic #team 7 naruto #madara x oc #uchiha madara x reader #uchiha x reader #madara fanfiction #madara imagines #uchiha clan

[xplrnoname]

𝑺𝑳𝑬𝑬𝑷𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑲.

#request : fem!reader has an alcoholic/abusive father and finds comfort in colby.

CONTENT WARNING❕implied abuse, mentions of alcoholism.

fluff and angst, with a sprinkle of angry colby if you squint. this is on the longer side, so get comfy.

There was a limit to how much you could take, and god, you were creeping up on it a little too quickly. The yelling, screaming, broken beer bottles and the numerous dents and holes in the drywall, all of it was piling up and you could feel yourself starting to crack.

Losing your job a few months ago forced you to move back home, something you were trying to avoid at all costs. But you had been left with no choice, despite knowing exactly how your father was. Especially when he had a few drinks in his system.

And tonight was especially bad.

Your father wasn’t alone — having invited a few of his work buddies to watch a late night football game. Drinks inevitably in hand. The yelling became louder and louder as it dragged on, his frustrations over his team losing ultimately getting taken out on you.

It got to the point where you were afraid to even set foot out of your bedroom, catching wind of the crude and nasty whispers he’d exchange with his friends when he didn’t think you could hear. Specifically pertaining to you.

You’d finally had it.

You were hungry, tired, and needed to get out of this environment before you lost what was left of your sanity. You slipped into a simple pair of sleep shorts and a worn out, oversized tee before grabbing your phone and car keys.

“Where you think you’re going?” Your father slurred as he noticed you making a beeline down the hallway.

Giving a roll of your eyes, you mumbled, “out.”

Despite being wobbly and uncoordinated on his feet, he still managed to get up and slide right in front of you. Towering over your much smaller frame. Intimidation was his biggest weapon against you.

“I don’t think so.”

You stared up at him, feet planted where they were. You had no intention of moving or backing down, not this time. Your defiance seemed to earn a nasty snarl and curl of his upper lip, scoffing as he glanced over at his friends on the sofa. Both of their mouths twitching up into a smirk that mirrored his.

“I’m going to see a friend. Please move.”

The silence was deafening as he pressed even closer, a silent threat that he could easily lay hands on you if he wanted. And you knew he wanted to. But he didn’t, surprisingly. With a wrinkle of his nose, he pulled back and stumbled into the living room once more.

You took the opportunity to rush right out the front door and down the driveway, sliding into your car as you let out a shaky breath. It was hard to concentrate on driving as you gripped the steering wheel so hard your knuckles were painted white. Ears ringing and heart thumping so hard you thought it might burst right out of your chest.

Not even thinking of where you were going, you weren’t entirelt surprised to find yourself pulling up into Colby’s driveway. Parking and switching the engine off, you marched right up to the front door and knocked rapidly. Hoping to god he’d answer.

And he did.

The door swung open and a confused Colby peered out towards you, eyes blinking as his lips curled into a soft smile.

“Hey! What’re you—” he paused mid sentence once he noticed the look on your face, smile dropping as he opened the door even wider.

Your bottom lip began to quiver and within a split second, you felt your resolve crumbling. The dam splitting open and wave after wave crashing through the narrow channel of your emotional walls. Tears flooded your eyes and already started rolling down your cheeks.

Colby stepped forward and reached out with a gentle hand, placing it at the curve of your jaw.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?”

His voice was low, but sweet as each word dripped fron the tip of his tongue. You gave a halfhearted shrug of your shoulders as you kept your gaze down at your feet. “My dad.”

Something in him switched and you could feel the tension bubble up, his own jaw clenching tightly. He was incredibly protective of you and always had been, especially when it came to your father.

“Did he hurt you, y/n?” It was less of a question and more of a subtle demand for an answer. Because god only knows if you were to say yes, he’d be gone in a flash. Seething and see nothing put pure, hellish red.

You were quick to shake your head, looking up at him through your teared stained lashes. And before either of you said anything more, he wrapped an arm around the small of your back and ushered you into the house. Closing the door behind him.

He pulled you along with him towards the sofa in the large living room, sitting down beside you as he let out a soft, mournful little sigh. “What happened? Talk to me.”

You leaned back into the cushions, pulling your knees up to your chest as your arms wrapped tightly around them.

“It’s suffocating. I can’t fucking do it anymore. His drinking is getting even worse, and it’s not just him. It’s his friends, too.”

Colby’s eyes were glued to you, bright blue burning holes into your skin.

His hand, fingers decorated with the silver rings he always loved to wear, reached out and gently wiped away the lingering tears that were resting just below your lashes. You instinctively leaned right in to his touch, eyes fluttering closed only for a moment before they peeked back open again.

“Stay for the night. Sam’s already asleep and I’m wide awake, I could use the company.”

It was impossible not to smile at the idea of him wanting your company. And you absolutely loved spending time with him, perhaps a little more than you’d ever openly admit to his face. “Really?”

Colby raised his brows, chuckling softly as he nodded in respond.

“Hell yeah, it’s been a while since we properly hung out anyway,” he mentioned as he pushed up from the sofa, holding out both his hands towards you as he wiggled his fingers expectantly.

With a playful roll of your eyes, your placed your hands within his and let him pull you up. There was a brief moment where you felt uncharacteristically close to him, tip of your nose only centimeters from touching his. You could feel the soft puff of his breath against your mouth, heart skipping a beat as it kicked up a notch in rhythm.

You wondered if he felt it too, if his own heart was pounding like yours was. And that was when you realized he still hadn’t let go of your hands. You gave them a squeeze, to which he eagerly returned. Head suddenly leaned down to ghost his lips across the edge of your jawline.

That was certainly unexpected.

“What do you say….” Colby began with a whisper into your ear, slowly pulling away. “What do you say we get comfortable and pick a movie, hm? There’s leftover pizza in the fridge, too.”

Your head lulled backwards as he started to pull you towards the staircase, still not letting go of your hands even as your arms were stretched out in front of you. Lips forming a wide, ear to ear smile as you finally gave in.

“Okay, okay. Is it pepperoni?”

He bit down on his lower lip, letting go of your hands as he rubbed his own together in a cute display of excitement. “With the stuffed crust, too. I’ll heat up a couple of slices, YOU go get comfortable.”

You watched as he sauntered over towards the kitchen, turning on your heels as you called out softly at the last minute.

“Colby?”

He stopped in his tracks, peeking around the corner of the wall with that innocent sparkle radiating from his bright blue eyes. The one you adored so incredibly much.

Your stomach fluttered with a million tiny butterflies the moment you two made eye contact again, struggling to find the proper words in the haze of your own feelings.

“Thank you for, you know…”

He didn’t say a word, he simply hurried back over towards you and hooked his finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up and planting a tender, quick kiss right to the center of your lips. Tongue poking out to trace along his own top one, as if he were savoring the way you tasted once you two broke apart.

“It’s what I’m here for, right?” One last smile and he finally disappeared off into the kitchen.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding in, mind reeling as you were left dizzy and infatuated. This was already a much better night than you’d planned it to be.

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #sam and colby #colby x reader #xplr #cole robert brock #x reader #fanfic #writing #fluff and angst

[timelessstardust99]

sanji x reader where he’s basically in love with them, he’s always by their side but reader can’t quite understand why someone as handsome as sanji would love someone like them, angsty and fluffy please! i love sanji so so so so much

Sanji's Love | LA! Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader (Spoiler for the Live Action One Piece show)

Summary: In which Y/N doubts that Sanji actually loves them and thinks he was just flirting with them out of pity, because who could fall in love with someone who barely knew how to boil water, much less cook.

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x GN! Reader

Y/N sat on the ram head of the boat, their legs dangling from the ledge as they looked over the ocean that was sloshing around beneath them. They couldn't believe that they were a part of a Pirates crew after years of serving the Baratie, they had always had the dream to be a part of one just like Zeff was before he had lost his leg. Thinking about it now though, they couldn't understand why Luffy had wanted them on his crew. Maybe it had been Sanji's persuasion or the fact that Luffy always felt the need to have them fulfill their dreams whilst they look for the One Piece together. Y/N sighed, pulling their legs up to their chest and resting their head on their knees.

"Y/N, darling, what are you doing all the way up there?" Came the voice of Sanji, the man Y/N had been avoiding since they had become a part of Luffy's crew. The eighteen-year-old looked over the edge of the ram and towards the older blonde who looked up at them with a charming smile which made Y/N blush at one of the pet names the cook seemed to call them in endearment.

"Uh, thinking." Y/N admitted, smiling shyly at the nicely dressed man who walked a little more to the ram head so he could climb up there with them, though it seemed to be hard for him to climb with pants as tight as his. Y/N's thoughts seemed to disappear as they watched Sanji try to climb up the ram head, which caused the younger of the two to giggle at him. Sanji thought it was music to his ears. "Do you need help hun?" They asked him, watching as the man struggled to hang onto the statue, with one leg draped over so he could get a good footing.

"No, I've got this," he strained, pulling himself slowly up the ram head and sitting with his back against theirs for a moment as he gasped in breaths, his hair now sticking to his already sweaty forehead.

"No, no, I see you've got it," They nudged him causing Sanji to chuckle and swing his legs around so he was now sitting side to side with the younger teen. Their smile soon turned into a frown again as they looked out to the ocean again, Sanji noticed this and pushed his shoulder against their's.

"What's the matter, love?" He asked them gently. They didn't want to admit it, not anyone, but they felt as if they didn't deserve Sanji's love and appreciation. They didn't look anything like the kind of person Sanji would prefer. They looked at him with a frustrated glint in their eye.

"Why do you love me?" They asked him, his eyes going wide from the sudden question. He didn't think they'd question his love and loyalty, sure he was a big flirt, but he had quit doing that because Y/N was everything he had always wanted in a partner.

"What's brought this on?" He asked, his hand going against their back as a way to comfort them.

"I just... I just can't understand why you'd want me when there are so many more people out there and you picked me? Why? I'm a nobody, even when I worked at Baratie." They said, looking at him with frantic eyes. He stared at them in shock.

"Dear, there is no one on this planet besides you that I want," He said gently to them.

"Really?" They doubted, their overthinking nature always seemed to win. He smiled at them, bringing his face closer to theirs and giving them a kiss on the forehead, which caused them to close their eyes. He pulled back from them, looking at their content face.

"Really," he said, "is that also why you were avoiding me after we left Zeff?" He asked after a moment. They sighed, laying their head on his shoulder with shame.

"Yeah, I just couldn't bring myself to look at you with all of these thoughts, I felt like I was holding you back." They admitted to him.

"You can never hold me back dear," He said, wrapping an arm around their shoulders and hugging them close as he kissed their temple. In the silence of the air, Y/N was finally feeling like they were meant to be here, with this man and their crew.

EDIT: Sorry, had to edit a couple of parts, it was only a small part.

#live action sanji #taz skylar #vinsmoke sanji #x reader #gender netural reader #live action one piece #request #fluff and angst #red leg zeff #forehead kisses #fluff

[604to647]

Safest with You - Series Masterlist

Posting break until May’24

Modern AU with Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din Djarin, retired mob enforcer, falls in love, but worries his past could put his future (you) in danger.

A/N: First time writer, please be gentle 🥹 This is a modern AU where Din is a former enforcer for the Fett family, and the world building and relationship development between Din and Reader takes place over many chapters. Some Star Wars names thrown in for fun, but there aren't meant to be any serious parallels to canon. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy my brain rot for everyone’s favourite tin man 🥰

Series warnings: Chapters with smut denoted with 🚑, chapters with angst denoted with ❤️‍🩹, fluff throughout. Individual instalment warnings are included in each post.

Ch. 1 (The Coffeeshop)

Ch. 2 (The Bookstore)

Ch. 3 (The Drycleaner)

Ch. 4 (The First Date)

Ch. 5 (The Courtship)

Ch. 6 (The Courtship, Din's POV) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 7 (The Third Date) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 8 (The Cab) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 9 (The Dam Breaks) 🚑

Ch. 10 (The Afterglow) 🚑

Ch. 11 (The Poker Game) (a summary)

Ch. 11 Addendum (After The Poker Game) 🚑

Ch. 12 (The Workout) 🚑

Ch. 13 (The Birthday)

Ch. 14 (The Subway) 🚑 new!

Ch. 15 (The BBQ)

Ch. 16 (The Match-up)

Ch. 17 (The Preparations)

Ch. 18 (The Threat)

Ch. 19 (The Betrayal)

Ch. 20 (The Way to Get Over Someone)

more to come

One-shots and Drabbles (same AU)

All the one shots and drabbles can be slotted in the above timeline; as the chapters get written, I’ll note where they fit in. For now, consider the below to all be set when Din and Reader are in an established relationship (hence the smut 😂).

Carnival Fright Night 🚑 (set between Ch. 12 & 14)

Lingerie 🚑 (set anytime after Ch. 10)

The Wedding, Part 2 🚑 (insert btwn Ch. 17 & 18) (Moodboard by @hellishjoel - thank you!)

2 More Days (A Textfic) 🚑 - Part 1, Part 2 (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Holiday Remix (A Textfic) (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Let Me Carry It For You (SBowl 🏈 Drabble) (set right after Ch. 11)

The Mando Roll (Valentine’s Day Special) (set anytime after Ch. 10)

Hat Trick (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Birthday Bunny 🚑 new! (HBD P! 🥳)

Thots

Alfredo’s the best dog

Favourite nook

Walking the dog

POV: On a date with Din

Naming of Mando’s Gym inspo

Working at Mando’s

Paz Vizsla face cast

Excellent boxing advice

Series vibes and this amazing graphic by @gasolinerainbowpuddles (thank you!)

#din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #modern au #no y/n #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #smut with feelings #fluff and smut #fluff and angst

[leighsartworks216]

My Sunshine

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Part 2 Here: Tumblr link - AO3 link

This is probably definitely ooc but I needed to get it out of my brain anyway. I also have not seen any actual gameplay (aside from the romance scenes) so this won't be 100% canon compliant

For @niermortem bc I need you to read this and suffer (affectionate)

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, grief/mourning, blood, injury, fluff and angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3,146

Masterlist

AO3

You raised your goblet of wine in the air, smiling blindingly bright at your best friend. "To another case solved, and another criminal behind bars!"

He laughed and clinked his goblet with yours. The red liquid sloshed against the edge, almost spilling into yours. You each drank deeply.

"You make that toast after every trial," he bemoaned, but a stray chuckle ruined his disapproval. "It's a minor court for minor offenses - It's not like I locked up a serial killer."

You huffed and nudged his shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short! What you do is incredible, Astarion. It's so rare for an elf as young as you to get appointed as a magistrate. That's worth celebrating."

He hummed, smirk dancing across his face. "You're younger than me, my dear, and from what I've heard you're doing just as well." He gestured around the room.

The light of the fireplace cast odd shadows of your figures against the wall. Between the flickering shapes, Astarion could see the several paintings hung up on the wall. Portraits, landscapes - all formed with careful brush strokes and intense patience. It was no mean feat. He'd grown up alongside you, witnessed your struggles with charcoal and accuracy. He'd even posed for a few so you could study anatomy and shadow. Pride swelled in his chest thinking of those shaky, rough sketches and seeing the confident, soft strokes that composed the paintings.

You avoided looking, staring into the fire. For the briefest moment, he wanted to smooth out the crease in your brow and remove the frown from your face. Instead he gripped his goblet tighter and took another drink.

"I wish I could be as proud of them as you are, my sunshine. But when I look at them, all I see are mistakes."

He sighed quietly. "Your parents still don't approve, then?"

"They approve my profession - finally - but they think my execution is lackluster. I paint like a human."

"You paint like a god, darling."

“Ah,” you chuckled, “is the praise being turned back on me now?"

He smiled and raised his goblet. "A toast to the greatest artist Baldur's Gate has ever seen and will ever see again."

After a moment's hesitation, you raised your glass and knocked it against his. He threw back the last remaining contents, a drop of red falling from the corner of his mouth and down his neck. He finished off the rich alcohol with a contented sigh.

A clock on the mantelpiece chimed. You leaned back on your hand to look up at the old thing. It was a gift in lieu of payment, handmade, from its gears to its wooden casing. It chimed 11 times in all. Astarion sighed.

"One last drink for the road." You offered him the last of the wine in your goblet, and he drained it easily. “We can finish the rest tomorrow.”

“Mm, and what will we be celebrating tomorrow?”

“Anything and everything.”

He smiled fondly. What gods could have been kind enough to create you?

He rose to his knees and held your cheeks in both hands. “I look forward to it.” You closed your eyes as he planted a kiss on your forehead. It was almost a ritual, after so many years of doing it. Once he pulled away, you rose to your own knees, held his face the same way, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Stay safe on your way back.” You pulled away to look him straight in the eye, an exaggerated expression of seriousness on your face. “If anything happened to you, I wouldn’t have anybody to absolve me in court.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be fine, my dear.”

“You’d better.”

-

You stared numbly at the headstone. Your eyes scanned the words over and over and over again. You could recite it if you wanted to.

'Astarion Ancunin 229 - 268 DR'

He was only 39. He was just a child. A child buried 6 feet under your boots, hidden away, wrapped in sheets and sealed in a wooden coffin. Thirty-nine. He was only thirty-nine.

The sun was beginning to set. There was not a cloud in the sky. No chance for rain. The only water that fell were tears, and yours had long since dried up. Everyone else left hours ago. They'd touched your shoulder, shared in your grief, promised to pray for you and Astarion. If you were perhaps a bit more naive, a bit more desperate, you would have pleaded to the gods to bring him back, no matter the cost.

You inhaled shakily and tilted your head back. The sky was so beautiful; a vibrant array of orange and yellow and blue. You cursed it, for your best friend would never get to share in its beauty with you ever again.

When you looked back down, you forced your eyes not to trace the carved stone any more. It wasn't safe at night. If you looked again, you'd never make it back home.

A hint of white in the corner of your eye stole your attention. A flower. Its petals curled back and around, almost touching itself. Blue and yellow mixed within its center, but the very tips of its petals were bright white.

Your feet felt like lead as you moved toward it. Deep prints were left behind at the end of the dirt mound. Your legs were stiff and creaky from standing so long.

When you reached down to pluck the flower, you stopped. Hand outstretched toward its stem. You'd be killing it to mourn your friend. And in an hour, it will be droopy and wilted, dying on top of the grave. But if you left it, come two days from now, it would be closed and dried up anyway.

Your frown dug creases into your skin. Lines around your mouth and between your brows. You never realized before how quickly beautiful things die. The lines smoothed slightly when you brushed the delicate petal with your fingers. It was as soft as his hair had been.

"Look after him for me," you croaked, voice raw and unused. It cracked when you whispered desperately, "Please."

You rubbed your eyes as you backed away. The burn of tears stung the back of your eyes, but no water was produced. And you needed to get out of here. It hurt too much to stay.

You allowed yourself one last glance at the grave, before you turned and left. Your home never felt so cold, so uninviting, and so empty.

-

You’d never been much further than the city’s limits before, yet here you were. Lost, infected, confused. The blood on your hands terrified you, but if you hadn’t fought, you would be dead. A voice in the back of your mind haunted you with memories. Unbidden, you often recalled tidbits of your life 200 years ago. This time it reminded you of Astarion, flipping knives and sneaking up on you for a laugh. He would have been much more suited to this awful situation than you were.

Your hand fell to your pocket, pressing against a hidden journal tucked safely away. You would be lost without it. It’s all that’s kept you sane all these long years.

A shock of white hair up ahead caught your attention. A man, searching down a hill, beckoning. “Hurry,” he urged in a whisper, “I’ve got one of those brain things cornered.” He kept his back to you, but something in the way he spoke seemed familiar. Or maybe you were just so tired. “There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others.”

You flinched, frowning at the way he said ‘killed’. It shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. Perhaps it sounded too confrontational. Perhaps it was the dark turn his voice took. But you swallowed down the discomfort. You weren’t going to abandon someone in need.

“I can.”

You stepped forward, ready to grab at your dagger. It was quiet. The soft rustle of dry shrubs was all you could hear. You stepped a little further.

A loud squeal made you jump out of your skin as a frightened boar ran from the grass. You stumbled backward. Before you could trip yourself up, a rough arm wrapped behind your neck and dragged you down to the ground. A knife pointed at your throat.

On pure instinct, you grabbed at the blade. It dug into your palm and fingers, but you couldn’t let go. You could feel the man applying pressure to keep it at your neck. If you let go… You shuddered to think what could happen.

“Shh. Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” Deep crimson eyes stared into yours, contrasted by the pure white of his hair and the smirk toying his lips. He looked oddly familiar, too. Had you passed him somewhere before? No, you would remember a man like him. “Now, I saw you on the ship. Didn’t I? Nod.”

The command has you nodding with no hesitation.

“Splendid,” he purred. His voice turned serious then. “And now you’re going to tell me exactly what you and those tentacled freaks did to me.”

“I haven’t done anything,” you grit out. Blood trailed down your wrist and stained the cuff of your sleeve. His eyes flickered toward it for a moment. “They took me prisoner, too!”

“Don’t lie to me! I- Argh!”

Behind your eyes the tadpole squirms. It’s jarring and uncomfortable, and so are the images that come with it. Dark city streets seen through someone else’s eyes. They scan every passerby, studying them. But just as you urge to see more, it’s gone. All you’re left with is the sensation of fear.

The man grunts again. “What was that?” he demands. He pushed the knife even closer to your neck, despite your best efforts to keep it away. “What’s going on?!”

The fear from the memory quickly intermingled with your own terror. Your heart thumped in your ears. The words came tumbling out of you before you knew what you were saying. “Please, please just put the knife away and we can figure this out.”

For a moment, he just stared at you. Calculating. And then the pressure faded and you could let go of the dagger. His arm let go of you, and he watched as you scampered away one-handed and struggled to your feet. He stood defensively, keeping his hold on the knife.

“You’re… not one of them.” You could feel his eyes searching you up and down. “They took you, just the same as me. And to think, I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards.” He laughed weakly. “Apologies.”

You cradled your hand to your chest with a frown. Nobody would blame you if you shouted insults, left him to deal with this on his own, took care of your own issues. But you couldn’t. “Apology accepted,” you sighed.

He smiled. It felt plastered on, like an actor’s during a play. “I’m out of wine and flowers, so I hope an introduction will suffice. My name’s Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.”

The last of his words was drowned out. Your heart raced, flooding your ears as a tidal wave of emotions swirled in your chest. That name. In all your years, you only knew one elf with that name. What were the chances of another carrying the same one?

Slim to none.

But it can’t be him. He died.

It has to be him. It has to.

“Darling?” He chuckled nervously, waving a hand in front of you. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

If you weren’t so dazed, maybe you would have laughed. But you just stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Your eyes burned. A lump crawled up your throat and you weren’t sure if it was bile or a sob.

“You died,” you finally gasped out. It was only a whisper, but Astarion’s ears picked it up as if you’d shouted it out. His grin faltered, entire aura of confidence and sexuality falling with those two words alone. “You died… My sunshine.”

Astarion stepped back, holding his dagger up as a warning. It still dripped with your blood. His face was dark. You’d never seen it as gravely serious as this. “Who are you? How do you- How do you know that?”

Your old name - the name you had as a child - lingers in the air. He stares at you with eyes hopeful and distrusting. There is a war in his mind. You can see it in the way his dagger wavers in his hold. How he looks you up and down, studies your face. He’d grabbed you, even made you bleed - you weren’t just a fucked up figment of his imagination. But he still couldn’t fathom it.

“Prove it.”

“How?”

“I don’t care how! Just prove it!” The shout is broken and desperate.

You fumbled. Everything you knew about him fled your brain in an instant. You searched for memories in the dirt, in the dry bushes, in the curls of his hair…

Cursing, he watched as you ripped a book from your pocket. Even though you’d grabbed it with your uninjured hand, blood stained the leather binding. You held it out to him.

“These are sketches I have made every day for two hundred years.” You stepped forward, urging him to take it. “All of them are of you.”

A part of him didn’t want to listen. It wanted him to remain unaware and oblivious for the rest of his godsdamned life. The mere idea of the truth - of his past being exposed to this corrupted thing he’s become - terrified him. How easy it would be to run away. To hide away forever.

But he would never be free. Always a slave to the burning questions. Forever wondering just who you were, and if you were telling the truth.

He reaches past his knife and takes the journal. With use of his leg as an aid, he’s able to remove the string tying it shut and flip open the book.

On each page is his face. Several of them. Smiling, laughing, pouting, focused, and a thousand more expressions. After 200 years, he doesn’t quite remember what he looks like. He couldn’t recall if his hair had always been white, nor the shade of his eyes. But tucked away is a crude sketch, not of his face, but of yours. It looks like a child closed their eyes and scribbled. At the bottom of the page, in what is undoubtedly his handwriting, is his signature.

You watch desperately as he puts his knife away. He’ll have to clean it later, but he isn’t thinking about it now. Both hands freed, he flips through each page. At the beginning, the portraits are unrefined and rough. The lines are sketchy and smudged, as though someone had tried wiping away their mistakes. With each page, they get better. The lines become confident and smooth. Even further still, the style is almost elegant, but the face has become unfocused. The eyes begin losing form. The mouth feels off on the face. On one, the face has been erased and redone several times over; so much so the paper has begun crumbling. The last drawing held little resemblance to him anymore. This one was freshly done. The lines were sketchy once more, uncertain. The only recognizable features were his ears and the curls of his hair. Even the shape of his face was lost to time.

“After you… After I buried you, I…” You take a shaky breath, fighting back tears. “I didn’t want to forget you. So I sketched you, every day. I thought I’d always remember that damn smile of yours, but… I didn’t. Little by little, you were stolen from my memories, until all I had left was a vague impression of who you were, what we did together. Even looking at the old sketches couldn’t bring it back. But I kept trying.”

Astarion’s face is the epitome of sorrow when he looks up at last. There are deep set creases around his mouth and eyes, aging him - an odd concept for an elf. He looks so lost. “Where did you go?”

You frowned, and Astarion wished he could smooth out the crease between your brows. How could he forget your face? After all Cazador did to him, made him do, how could he forget you?

“After you buried me,” he clarified.

“I couldn’t bear to stay. I sold all my paintings and I left. I didn’t get very far.” You chuckled weakly. “Just stayed with my parents.”

His face lights up. “What name are you going by now?”

“Tav.”

“Tav,” he repeats. The name is different in his mouth. Not good or bad, simply there. New. He wishes he could have been there when you chose it.

You took a deep breath. It was time to ask the big question, the one burning a hole in your chest. “How are you alive?”

The corner of his lip twitches up, somewhere between amused and dismayed. “It’s a rather long story, my dear.”

“I’ve waited 200 years to hear it.”

He chuckles at that. It’s genuine, but a sour note still lingers. He closes your journal, deftly ties the strings, and saunters to stand in front of you. The intoxicating scent of your blood drives him mad. It’s so close, but he could never forgive himself if he told you the truth and you ran away. Truthfully, after so long, he wasn’t sure how you’d react. But it still felt too heavy an admission.

He slips the book back into your pocket. With both hands, he reaches to cup your face, but he stops. The motion feels wrong. He wants so desperately to hold you again. You even lean toward his palm. The tip of your pointed ear brushes his fingers. But he can’t. His hands fall back to his sides, and he plasters a smile on once more.

“Come on, darling. Let’s get you cleaned up before you attract something.”

You nod and follow alongside him as he begins leading you toward water. The bleeding has mostly stopped by now. The cut still stings, exposed to the air. But the pain feels distant. It hardly matters when the man you’ve spent two hundred years mourning is alive and with you again. And he’s changed - there is no way to deny it. His hair, his eyes, even the way he spoke had more of a lilting tune to it than it once did. But he’s here. He’s real.

“For the record,” you begin, stepping close enough to brush arms as you walked, “it’s good to see you again, my sunshine.”

And, oh, if that didn’t make him feel alive once more.

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