#but I'll talk more about it when I'm back from Chicago

[fireofjudgement]

Are you gonna write again??

Of course! I don't know why, but every time I take a break from writing, I get an ask like this. Rest assured, as long as I'm part of any fandom (and I'm part of many, lol), I will be writing. Sometimes I'll post every week, sometimes I'll take a couple months off, but I'll always come back. Right now I'm preparing for the agust d concert I'm attending on Friday, but as soon as I'm back I'll make a separate post announcing a few changes to this blog, as well as opening up my requests again! So worry not, I am here and I will be here, I'm not going anywhere!

#and i believe this year will be exciting as I'm expanding my fandoms and this will no longer be a k/j drama blog only #but I'll talk more about it when I'm back from Chicago #thanks for sticking with me tho!

[mcmansionhell]

pre-recession, post-taste

Hello, everyone. I hope this blog can bring some well-needed laughs in really trying times. That's why I've gone back into the archives of that precipitous year 2007, a year where the McMansion was sleepwalking into being a symbol of the financial calamity to follow. We return to the Chicago suburbs once more because they remain the highest concentration of houses in their original conditions. Thanks to our flipping predilection, these houses become rarer and rarer and I have to admit even I have developed a fondness for them as a result.

Our present house is ostensibly "French Provincial" in style, which is McMansion for "Chateaux designed by Carmela Soprano". It boasts 7 bedrooms, 8.5 bathrooms, and comes in at a completely reasonable 15,000 square feet. It can be yours for an equally reasonable $1.5 million.

Every 2007 McMansion needed two things: a plethora of sitting rooms and those dark wood floors. This house actually has around five or six sitting rooms (depending if you count the tiled sunroom) but for brevity's sake, I'll only provide two of them.

With regards to the second sitting room, I'm really not one to talk statuary here because beside me there is a bust of Dante where the sculptor made him look simultaneously sickly and lowkey hot.

Technically, if we are devising a dichotomy between sitting and not sitting (yes, I know about the song), the dining room also counts as a sitting room. The more chairs in your McMansion dining room, the more people allegedly like you enough to travel 2.5 hours in traffic to see you twice a year.

Here's the thing about nostalgia: the world as we knew it then is never coming back. In some ways this is sad (kitchens are entirely white now and marble countertops will look terrible in about 3 years) but in other ways this is very good (guys in manhattan have switched to private equity instead of betting the farm on credit default swaps made from junk mortgages proffered to America's most vulnerable and exploited populations.) Progress!

Okay I really don't understand the 50 bed pillows thing. Every night my parents tossed their gazillion decorative pillows on the floor just to put them back on the bed the next morning. Like, for WHAT? Who was going in there? The Pope?

Here's a fun one for your liminal spaces moodboards. (Speaking for myself.)

Yes, I know about skibidi toilet. And sticking out your gyatt for the rizzler. I wish I didn't. I wish I couldn't read. Literacy is like a mirror in which I only see the aging contours of my face.

When your kids move out every room becomes a guest room.

Anyway, let's see what the rear of this house has to offer.

The migratory birds will not forgive them for their crimes. But also seriously, not even a garden?

Anyway, that does it for this round of McMansion Hell. Happy Halloween!

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

#architecture #design #mcmansion #mcmansions #ugly houses #interior design #bad architecture #2000s design #illinois

[steddieas-shegoes]

never gonna give you up

for @steddiemicrofic "fake" prompt that needed to include the words: and, around, desert, down, give, gonna, let, never, run, up, you

1987 words | rated e | no cw | tags: modern au, flirting, bisexual steve harrington, handjobs, some platonic stobin, ridiculous and unserious

😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎

"This might be the first time someone's deserted me in the middle of a date," Steve said into the phone.

"You aren't counting that one time Sarah left during the movie?" Robin asked.

"She had a family emergency!" Steve exclaimed.

"Right, and I'm definitely going on a date with a dude later."

"You're saying she didn't have a family emergency?"

Steve remembered that date, remembered how she'd even had tears in her eyes when she said her mom called and she had to run home.

"You're gonna unpack that all night, aren't you?" Robin sighed on the other end. "Steve, just go home. Take a week off from trying to get into some poor woman's pants. Leave some of them for me to get into. I beg you."

"What makes you think they'd come running to you?" Steve looked over at a guy standing at the counter of the diner, clearly trying to pick up his order. From the back, he seemed tall, but that could be the black skinny jeans and boots combo.

"Let me talk to them for one minute and I'll have them convinced."

The guy turned as the woman behind the counter walked to the kitchen, his eyes settling on Steve talking on his cell phone at the table in the corner. It's not like there were many people here on a Monday night, nothing else to look at but Steve awkwardly sitting by himself with two glasses on the table.

The guy started to walk over, and Steve recognized him immediately.

"Gotta go, Robs."

"What? How are you done wallowing already?"

He hung up before she could continue, putting his phone face down on the table.

"Well, well, well. Never thought I'd see the day where Steve Harrington shows back up in Hawkins."

Eddie Munson didn't know shit about Steve, never really had. He thought he did, just like everyone else in high school, but the gossip that followed him around never had much truth to it. He really only had two girlfriends for most of high school, and only one of them was serious enough for him to sleep with.

The sleeping around came after his move to Chicago, when he was constantly surrounded by women who would give him all the attention he wanted.

"Never really thought I'd be back," he said with a genuine smile. Kill them with kindness or whatever his grandmother used to say.

It seemed to throw Eddie off at least, his mouth opening and closing around whatever rebuttal he planned.

"So why are you here? Visiting the parents?" Eddie crossed his arms, leaned his hip against the edge of the table.

"Nah, came to visit Dustin Henderson. Staying for a few more days and thought it would be nice to take someone out. I guess she didn't agree," Steve shrugged.

Eddie glanced down at the empty spot across from him, the glass on the table with half of the drink missing. He looked back at Steve's face.

He sat down across from him and smirked.

"So. Come here often, sunshine?"

Steve snorted, shaking his head as he looked up at Eddie.

"Not as often as I would if I was coming to see you," Steve replied, taking a sip of his drink.

Eddie clearly wasn't expecting him to flirt back. He recovered quickly, though.

"I suppose we could fix that, then, huh?"

Steve looked him up and down, taking in the messy bun his curly hair was pulled into, the pen mark on his cheek, tattoos up and down his arm.

"I suppose we could."

Waking up in Eddie Munson's bed was definitely not what he expected when he arrived in Hawkins two days ago, but stranger things had happened.

He opened his eyes to sunlight streaming in through the curtains and Eddie's warm body pressed against his back.

Neither of them had gotten dressed after their shower last night, too tired to do anything more than rinse off the sweat and cum from hours of making each other come undone.

Steve let himself have this. Eddie would kick him out when he woke up, kindly of course, but he'd make it clear to Steve that this was a one night thing. No matter how good it was, Steve wasn't an idiot. He knew Eddie would never actually be interested in a guy like him.

"Mmm. Stop thinkin' s' loud," Eddie's lips brushed against the back of Steve's neck in a half-kiss, sending a shiver down his spine. "'s too early."

Steve smiled to himself, let Eddie's arms tighten around him and hold him close for a bit longer.

"I should probably head back to the Henderson's. Claudia will be worried if I'm not there for lunch," Steve said quietly.

"Just text Dustin, tell him your date went well."

Steve shouldn't get his hopes up. It's not like he was gonna do long distance, and even if he would be willing, there was no way Eddie would.

"I can't lie to him," Steve felt his heart flip flop in his chest at the admission.

Eddie's head lifted and his breath hit the side of Steve's face instead of his shoulder. "Did it not go well? I thought it- well, I thought it went great, actually."

Steve turned in Eddie's arms, facing him, placing his hands on his chest. "It did go well! It did."

"Okay, then…"

"It's just this wasn't exactly a date, was it? You just felt bad for me, probably wanted to see if the rumors were true."

"What rumors?"

"You know. The ones about me sleeping around, being good with my mouth." Steve's eyes searched Eddie's, looking for any hint of recognition. When none came, he continued. "How I let anyone fuck me on the first date?"

Eddie's brows furrowed. "Is that what people say about you?"

"You don't have to act dumb, Eddie. Some of it's true."

Eddie's hands were rubbing up and down his back, making goosebumps appear on his skin. "You are good with your mouth. That one’s true. The rest though? I never believed any of that shit.”

“Really? Why not?”

Eddie’s hand traced along Steve’s only tattoo, a robin placed just under his collarbone. “Because I never gave much thought to rumors. Lord knows most of the ones about me weren’t true.”

Steve thought about all the rumors he’d heard about Eddie in high school.

Back then, he may have believed some of them, but he had firsthand experience with things getting out of hand.

“You can think what you want, but I brought you back here because I genuinely enjoyed talking to you at the diner. I wouldn’t have slept with you if I wanted to get rid of you. Trust me. I’m not really a one and done guy,” Eddie’s hand cupped his cheek, thumb rubbing along his cheekbone. “If you’re in a rush to go, I can’t stop you. But I think staying in bed with you all morning sounds pretty fuckin’ good.”

Steve’s breath hitched, his heart kicked up in his chest. “You know, I’ve actually never bottomed before last night.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Never?”

Steve shook his head. “Never found anyone I could trust to be gentle.”

“Was I gentle enough? Shit, you should’ve told me. I used spit as lube, Steve! That couldn’t have been comfortable.” Eddie pulled away a few inches, mumbling to himself in a panic.

“Eddie.” Steve tried to get his attention back on him. “Eds.”

Steve shifted forward, his front pressing against Eddie’s, his half-hard cock finding friction against Eddie’s thigh.

They both groaned as Steve rocked against him again.

“Everything was perfect, Eds. Only thing that would make it better is if I get to watch you come again right now," Steve said against his lips, pushing his hips forward so their cocks brushed against each other.

"Fuck, keep doing that and you'll get your wish, sweetheart."

He was sensitive, worked up from the hot breath against his mouth, the tongue brushing against his bottom lip. Steve couldn't remember the last time he'd been this wrapped up in someone, this attentive to the sounds they made, this focused on making sure they both felt good.

The friction was enough on its own to get Steve to the edge, and if Eddie's moans were anything to go off of, he was right there with him.

Steve never felt safe enough to be loud, not until he had Eddie begging him to make noise.

"C'mon, Stevie. Wanna hear how good you feel. Sounds so good when you can't hold it back," Eddie's hand gripped his hip, tugging him closer. They were both leaking precum, dripping down each other's lengths and losing track of where one of them ended and the other began.

Steve couldn't hold it back, didn't want to anyway. Letting Eddie hear how good he felt was a need.

"You gonna come with me, sweetheart?" Eddie gasped out as he wrapped his hand around both of them, slowing his hips to focus on moving his hand, finding the perfect angle and pace to get them both over the edge.

Steve bit his lip and nodded, barely holding back a whimper as Eddie's grip tightened around them.

"Come for me, Stevie."

Eddie's voice had a direct link to Steve's cock, maybe through the hand wrapped around him. Steve came with a shout, curling forward so his forehead fell against Eddie's shoulder.

He was overstimulated, fighting the urge to buck into his hand and pull away at the same time.

Steve pulled his head back to watch as Eddie groaned, cum hitting both of their stomachs as he worked himself through his orgasm.

They both lay there in silence, Eddie's grip loose around them as they both softened. They'd need to clean up before the cum dried in Steve's chest hairs and made them sticky, but moving seemed like an impossible task.

"You live in Chicago now?" Eddie asked suddenly, making Steve jump. He rubbed his cleaner hand on his back in silent apology.

"Yeah," Steve breathed out. "With Robin Buckley. From band?"

"I know Robin. She used to come to my shows before she moved."

"Small world."

Eddie snorted. "Just Hawkins." Eddie sat up, pulling Steve with him. "You know, the guys in my band have been considering moving to Chicago. Think it's a good place for a metal band?"

Steve searched his face for any clues as to what he was really asking. Certainly he didn't expect Steve to know if a metal band would feel at home somewhere.

"I…guess?" Steve answered.

"I'll just text Robin," Eddie wiped his hand on the sheets and reached over to the bedside table to grab his phone.

"Wait. You keep in touch with Robin?" Steve felt like he was being pranked.

"Not as much as I should, but yeah. We caught up last time she visited her parents." Eddie typed on his phone for a moment, then looked up at Steve with a smirk. "Problem with that?"

"No, I'm just kinda shocked she's never really mentioned it." Steve stood up with shaking legs. "I should probably grab a shower and go."

"You normally a runner?" Eddie asked, amused.

"No? Why do you ask?"

"It's just the second time you've been rushing to leave. Thought I told you I wanted you here."

Steve knew what he wanted, and he knew it was too much, too fast, too ridiculous for Eddie to even consider it.

But maybe, if he played his cards right, maybe he could have Eddie for more than today.

"Shower with me?" Steve settled on, pouting his bottom lip out.

"And then?" Eddie pushed.

Steve didn't know what to do, but he knew what he wanted.

"And then we'll go back to the diner and actually eat something together." Eddie nodded, encouraging him to continue. "And then you give me your number."

"For?"

"Planning our next date."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficapril #fake prompt #but i encourage everyone to be ridiculous with me

[megalony]

This Is Fate

This is my new Evan Buckley imagine and I am hoping to make it into a series. I'm really happy with this one and I would love to know what you all think and if you would like more parts. Enjoy,

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @gillybear17 @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: Eddie is surprised when his little sister comes to LA and asks to stay with him. She needs a fresh start, a break away from everything back home, and her ex. When she meets the team, Evan takes a special interest in her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Is Eddie home?"

(Y/n) didn't bother to try and smile. She didn't put on the brave face she had been practising on the ride down here. She didn't stand tall or square her shoulders or try and look the image of calm and collected like she hoped to when she thought about coming down here.

She knew she looked a mess.

Her jumper was hanging off her shoulders, being two sizes too big for her small frame. Her arms were bound around her chest to try and stop herself from shaking. Her lips were chapped and bloodied from where she had picked and bitten them over the past week out of nervous habit. If anyone looked at her hands they would see she had bitten off most of her nails and her thumbs were raw from where she'd started biting the skin too.

She looked windswept with disshevelled hair and dried tears swiped across her cheeks. And with a subtle trembling set in her bones, she looked almost hypothermic.

This was the right house; (Y/n) knew it. She recognised her brother's signature truck in the drive. And when she leaned to look around the kindly woman in the doorway and peered into the hall, she saw the pictures hanging around the walls. Eddie and Chris, scattered throughout the house. She was at the right address.

"I'll go get him for you."

When the woman turned and headed back inside, (Y/n) let out the breath she had been holding in and tried to smile.

That had to be Carla. The woman Eddie talked about a lot who helped look after Chris when he was at work.

There had been a look in her eyes, a small sense of familiarity and (Y/n) guessed Carla recognised her from one or two of the pictures Eddie had about the house. She just didn't know or realise who (Y/n) was now she was here in the flesh.

"Who is it?" Eddie finished his mouthful of pasta and wiped his mouth on his sleeve before he pushed up from the table.

Who was at the door? He wasn't expecting anyone and he couldn't think who it could be. What young women did he know who didn't work at the station or at Chris's school? It couldn't be anyone from the school coming round at teatime and if it was, Carla would have recognised them.

Just as Eddie stood up from the table, Chris hopped down and sped out the kitchen first to find out who was at the door. His interest was peaked at having a stranger at the door.

"Chris-" A shiver rolled down Eddie's spine and he cringed when Chris let out an excited scream. Who on Earth had turned up tonight?

"Auntie (Y/n)!"

Adrenaline coursed through Eddie's stomach and he hurried up when he heard Chris. (Y/n) was here? His youngest sister? Why was she in LA? Why hadn't she told him she was coming down? Eddie would have picked her up from wherever she arrived in town, he would have made the house look a bit tidier. He and Chris would have come to get her and shown her around and gone out for tea if they knew she was coming down.

He watched with wide eyes and a growing smile when Chris barrelled over to the front door and latched his arms around (Y/n)'s waist. He burrowed his head into her abdomen and clung to her like a monkey, still screaming excitedly into her stomach.

Out of all three of Eddie's sisters, (Y/n) was the one he was closest to and she was the one who had the best connection with Chris. It had been extremely hard on them both to leave (Y/n) back in Texas. And when (Y/n) moved, she moved closer to LA but she was still over an hour's drive from them.

Eddie could handle leaving his parents and his two other sisters, but he didn't want to leave his youngest sibling who he had taken care of all his life.

It had broken Chris's heart to know that his aunt would no longer be ten minutes away.

"Hey buddy- oh, you've grown so much." (Y/n) couldn't keep the tears from falling down her face, both from joy out of seeing Chris, and pain from how tightly he clung to her.

"You're here!"

"I thought I'd surprise my boys," (Y/n) leaned her head down and pressed hundreds of kisses against the top of Chris's hair until he was squealing and squirming against her. She held him tighter and willed herself not to burst into tears but as soon as she lifted her head and looked at Eddie, the waterworks started again.

"Alright, my turn. Chris, go finish dinner with Carla while I help auntie (Y/n) in please." Eddie gently turned Chris around in the other direction and gave him a nudge. (Y/n) wasn't going anywhere and Chris could cling to her and tell her everything that had been going on as soon as he'd finished his dinner and Eddie had the chance to hug his sister for himself.

Once Chris toddled off into the dining room, clapping his hands along the way, Eddie turned back to face (Y/n). He smiled brightly down at her and gasped when she flung her arms around his neck and reeled him in for a hug.

"I can't believe you're here. Why didn't you tell me you were coming down?" He kissed the side of her head and deadlocked his arms around her waist. But he could feel the smile fading from his face when he felt how badly she was shaking.

His hand planted down in the middle of her back and he tensed up the longer she held onto him without the intention of letting go.

Panic surged through him when he felt her tears soaking into his shoulder and Eddie started to realise she wasn't crying out of happiness, at least not anymore. And his eyes darted down to the doorstep in front of him and he could feel a new surge of panic igniting in his stomach.

Two cases.

That was more baggage than just a flying visit. Why had she turned up with all her belongings? Why didn't she call him? What had happened that he didn't know about?

"(Y/n), what's wrong? Why all the bags?" Eddie's hand pressed firmer into the middle of (Y/n)'s back when she tightened her arms around his neck and refused to pull away or look up at him. He didn't like this. Eddie never liked it when any of his sisters were upset or panicked. With their dad working away so much, Eddie had been the man of the house and he had always been the one his sisters went to with a problem they needed him to sort out.

He protected all of them.

He kept his left arm bound tight around her waist and he reached his right hand out to grab her cases. He dragged one inside and did the same with her other bag before he shuffled back with (Y/n) still in his arm so he could shut the door.

(Y/n) stayed limp and easily moveable, letting Eddie guide her through into the living room instead of standing in the hallway. But she started to shake when he finally leaned back and gripped her chin. He tilted her head up so they were finally looking at each other and when his thumb swiped across her cheek to brush away a tear, (Y/n) felt a whimper bubbling past her lips.

"C-can I stay with you, just f-for a while. Please?" Her hands unhooked from Eddie's neck and she let him hold her elbows and guide her to sit down in the armchair.

Once she was sat down, Eddie perched on the coffee table in front of her and rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward and arched his back out. His hand dragged across his jaw and down his chin while he nodded and tried to keep a calm expression on his face. His eyes kept wandering across to the dining room. Whatever (Y/n) was going to tell him clearly wasn't something good or anything she wanted Chris to overhear.

Eddie got the feeling that (Y/n) didn't even want to tell him what was going on and that hurt. She never had a problem talking to him about anything, but there was something in her eyes that told him this was harder than ever.

"You know you can always stay with me and Chris, you don't have to ask. What's going on? You didn't call, I could have come and got you… has something happened?"

(Y/n) tangled her hands and clenched her fingers together as tight as she could until they started to ache and burn.

"You, um, you know I said I was seeing someone, while I was staying with Chrissy?"

It was no secret that a little while after Eddie left Texas, (Y/n) had moved away too. She had gone to stay with their sister Chrissy who lived closer to LA than she did to Texas. It had been good to get away from home and have a fresh start, and (Y/n) had met someone while she was there.

Her eyes danced down to stare at Eddie's knees but she saw the way they tensed and how his hands curled into fists between his thighs.

"Did he try to hurt you?"

Eddie was wary of anyone each of his sisters got involved with. He didn't hate them right away, but he was cautious. He didn't want anyone to walk right in and think they could hurt the most important people in Eddie's life who he had raised since childhood.

He wasn't too thrilled this time that he knew nothing about the guy (Y/n) had been seeing. He didn't even know his name. All he knew was that (Y/n) had met someone and seemed to be happy with him. No photos, no pictures, no family get togethers where he tagged along. The relationship seemed fairly new so Eddie hadn't asked many questions or probed too deeply into it.

Something told him that maybe he should have. Perhaps he should have asked (Y/n) a little more about this guy and tried to make more of an effort. But (Y/n) wasn't a teenager or a little girl anymore, Eddie had to step back at some point even if he didn't want to.

"Not exactly… Eddie he scares me." Tears flushed (Y/n)'s face and her hands began to tremble in her lap until Eddie leaned across to hold them.

"Why?" He didn't understand. What kind of sense was Eddie supposed to make out of that?

"He was so nice at first, but he, I don't know… he got controlling, I think he was tracking my phone. He knew every move I made, he kept asking me to move away with him. I tried to end it but he kept coming round and he followed me home from work a few times too."

(Y/n) almost felt stupid for the way she was acting.

He had been kind. He was sweet and caring and loving and everything she thought she wanted in a partner. But (Y/n) didn't want someone to be checking every move she made. She didn't want to feel boxed in and she certainly didn't want to move as quickly as he did. Less than two months with him and he wanted her to move in with him. He even talked about marriage when (Y/n) knew him less than a year.

She wasn't ready for that and saying no to him was like talking to a brick wall. Her words seemed to bounce back and hit her in the face and he just pretended like she hadn't spoken at all.

He would worm his way back to her, attach himself to her and kiss her and engulf her and overload her until she changed her mind because it was easier to give in than stand up to him.

"Where is he now? Has he threatened you… (Y/n) you know you can tell me, leaving home in the middle of the night isn't like you."

She felt stupid. She felt stupid for leaving so suddenly as if her ex had been physical with her. His threats weren't like normal, obsessive threats. He didn't say he would hurt her if she left or he would always find her or get her back. He kept saying fate would bring her back to him and she could try all she liked, but she wasn't going to get far.

He scared her rather than threatened her and with how calm and placid he was, it just made things even worse. Not once had her ex hit her or pushed her or gave her a mark on her body that wasn't a simple love bite. He never became physical and during arguments he rarely even raised his voice at her. But he scared the living daylights out of her.

"I told him it was over, but he just said he'd be back for me soon, I don't know what he meant by that. Eddie I need to get away from him, I… oh God, promise you won't be mad at me or freak out, please?" (Y/n) dragged her fingers through her hair as more tears started to cascade down her face.

She hadn't told anyone yet.

"Why would I freak out?"

Adrenaline bubbled to life in Eddie's stomach and shot up through his chest. What was she going to tell him that would freak him out?

He leaned back and straightened his shoulders while his hands moved to rub up and down his knees to stay calm and collected. His lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes stayed concentrated on his sister, waiting for her to tell him what the next problem was.

When her hands moved to her jumper, Eddie panicked. He thought she was about to lift up her shirt and show him black and blue bruises littering her skin. He thought he would see scars or broken ribs or dried blood or some sort of injury that told him he had to find this guy and beat him to a pulp. He feared what his sister had been through and what kind of torment someone had dared to put her through.

He wasn't expecting a baby bump.

(Y/n) bit down on her lower lip so harshly it began to bleed again and her fingers trembled as she pulled her jumper up near her bra. She hadn't told anyone she was pregnant. She couldn't tell Chrissy, she would go straight to their parents. (Y/n) couldn't tell their parents because they would be disappointed or try to get involved and tell her she needed to marry this guy. And she didn't want to marry him.

Eddie was the only one (Y/n) could trust who wouldn't freak out, get angry with her or try to tell her what to do. He married Shannon because she was pregnant, but that had been easier. Eddie had been in love with her, marriage was something he wanted. For (Y/n), marriage to someone this pent up and controlling wasn't what she wanted. No matter how desperate her ex was to have her back and marry her.

"How- how far along? Does he know?" Eddie rubbed his hand across his jaw and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in.

He would expect this from Chrissy. He always expected her to be the one to get into a strange relationship and have a baby. He didn't think (Y/n) would be caught up in a situation like this and it hurt. Eddie should have kept up better contact with her, called and visited her more often and protected her from something like this.

"Nineteen weeks, I think. I can't tell him, Eddie he'll never let me go, ma will want me to marry him and I- I can't-"

"Hey, hey calm down." When Eddie cupped her face in his hands, a tidal wave of tears streamed down her face as she hiccupped and tried to breathe. "I won't let anything like that happen, I promise. Just tell me what you want to do and I'll help you."

"I wanna d-do this on my own, without him. Here in LA, a new start."

(Y/n) wanted her baby. She had nothing against abortions, but that wasn't what she wanted. She was pregnant and she was going to have this baby, despite what her parents were going to think or what her ex was going to try and do.

He didn't know and that was what she wanted. He had no idea about her family or where her big brother lived or what he did for a living. (Y/n) could find a job easy here in LA. She could find herself a place nearby and be around Eddie and their Tia and Abuela and she could be surrounded by family and make new friends up here.

She could raise this baby on her own with her family and that was what she wanted to do. She just needed a little help.

Eddie was always telling her how good it was here, how Chris loved it and they had new friends and a great work family. (Y/n) thought she could make a life for herself here with her brother and family. His work family could become her new family here, Eddie always said how they were looking out for him and Chris and helping them any way they could.

"You can stay here as long as you want, Chris might not let you leave. And I'll make sure that creep doesn't find you, I won't let him near you."

Reaching out, (Y/n) curled her hands around Eddie's wrist and brought his hand to her lap. She ran her thumb across the back of his hand and managed to smile a little. "Can I ask another favour?"

"Anything."

"Don't tell ma or papi, not yet. Once I'm settled and sorted, I'll explain… I just can't deal with that hassle right now."

(Y/n) knew what their parents would do and say. They would try and get (Y/n) to come home. They would fret and try to talk her out of this, tell her to go back home to them and start fresh there or find her ex and talk things through with him.

They wouldn't be pleased to know (Y/n) was going to try and raise a child on her own when her ex was out there somewhere, unaware what was happening and perfectly happy to raise a child with her.

But this was her choice. She had chosen to come down here and (Y/n) wanted to stay. She wasn't here for a vacation. This was a fresh start, a chance for (Y/n) to try and make a better life and be with her family. She wanted to make new memories and a new life for herself and be happy here with her family.

She kept her eyes focused on Eddie's hand, but her smile softened when she felt him lean forward. He cupped the back of her head as gently as possible and leaned over so he could kiss the top of her head.

"I'll explain everything to them when you're ready." He would rather be the one to talk to their parents. He could always talk them down and they wouldn't argue this as much if they knew Eddie was on (Y/n)'s side and doing everything he could to look after her. "Come on, let's go have something to eat."

***

"So, will you introduce me to everyone?"

When Chris squeezed her hand, (Y/n) felt her smile brighten and she leaned her head on top of his when he pressed his cheek against her arm. His free hand curled around her arm and clung to her tighter as if he thought she was about to disappear.

He had barely left her side since she turned up in LA last week. It was as if Chris didn't truly believe that (Y/n) was in town to stay, he thought at any given moment she was going to get up and leave.

Every morning so far, Chris had burst into the spare room to wake (Y/n) up, making sure she hadn't disappeared during the night. And when Eddie was at work, like today, (Y/n) went and collected Chris from school and looked after him. It gave Eddie and Carla a break and gave (Y/n) something to do until her new job got lined up.

Eddie had put in a good word for her at the call centre and her interview went extremely well. She was going to be on the 911 calls in a week or two.

"Yeah. Bobby lets me ride in the truck sometimes." Chris tugged on (Y/n)'s hand and guided her into the station. He pointed at the trucks and weaved between them with (Y/n) hurrying to keep up with his strides.

"That's the Captain, right?"

"Yep. Dad!" He swung their hands between them and looked around the station for Eddie. He smiled brightly when (Y/n) kissed the top of his head and moved her free hand to his shoulder, clinging to him as he took her towards the stairs.

"Buddy, what're you doing here?"

"It's uncle Buck! He's the best." Chris stuck his thumb in his mouth and grinned when he watched Evan jog down the stairs towards them with a wide grin and his arms stretched out.

(Y/n) couldn't breathe. All the air got caught up in her chest as a lump formed in her throat and her eyes welled up with tears. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest so harsh she thought her ribs were going to fracture. And when her pulse thudded in her ears, it was all she could hear and feel as her skin pulsed and throbbed.

Before she knew what was happening, all the blood drained down to her feet and her eyes rolled back in her head that felt like it was pumped full of helium.

"Eddie get down here!"

"Dad!" Chris let go of (Y/n)'s hand when her head flopped forward until her chin was tucked into her chest and she started to drop. He watched her knees cave in but his faltering smile paused when Evan rushed forward to grab her. He watched Evan hook his arms around (Y/n)'s waist and let her fall into his chest, saving her from a harsh fall to the floor like he was a knight in shining armour.

Evan darted his eyes around before he carefully stepped closer and went down on his knees, easing the girl in his arms down along with him. Once he was on the ground, Evan carefully turned her around so her back was slumped into his chest and he reached his hand down to cup her chin and tilt her head back on his shoulder.

"What's going on? Buck what happened?" Panic flooded Eddie's voice as he bolted down the stairs and jumped down the last three to rush across the station floor. He reached inside the back of the open ambulance and swiped a medic bag before he made a beeline for his family.

He watched Chris flop down on the floor, his thumb still hidden between his teeth out of anxious habit while his eyes focused on Evan and (Y/n).

Eddie knelt down beside them, briefly ruffling Chris's hair to try and calm him down before he looked down at his sister. She was laid motionless in Evan's arms, slumped down and breathing fast and shallow.

"She- she just fainted, is that normal? Is this your sister?" Evan curved his right arm around her chest and began smoothing his knuckles up and down her sternum to try and apply pressure and bring her back round.

"Yeah, yeah this is (Y/n)."

Eddie kissed Chris's cheek and patted his back before he nudged his son to gently ask him to shuffle back a few paces.

"(Y/n)? Are you back with me?" Shuffling around in the medic bag, Eddie found a blood pressure cuff and slid it up her right arm. He set her hand down on his thigh and brushed his thumb across the back of her hand for a few seconds.

Her head was starting to move from side to side on Evan's shoulder and her fingers started to twitch and clench.

Lifting his gaze, Eddie glanced across at Evan and when their eyes locked, Evan tried to smile politely as he reached down for (Y/n)'s shirt and gently pulled it back down over her stomach from where it had ridden up. Evan sat her forwards and let Eddie take over and have her lean up against him instead.

"Chris, why don't we go get (Y/n) a drink?" Evan waved his hand across at Chris and stood up, letting Chris take his hand and guide him towards the stairs. It would be best to give them both a moment to talk and let Eddie calm her down if she was going to panic. And after collapsing, she could probably use a drink to boost her back up.

"Alright, BP's a little high, nothing worrying." Eddie spoke to himself as he slipped off the cuff and found a heart rate monitor which he clipped onto her index finger. "Hey, there we go." He relaxed a little when (Y/n)'s eyes began to flutter and she tried to focus in on him.

Her hand bashed around shakily until she found Eddie's hand and she gripped as tightly as she could muster. Her head was starting to pulse and throb like she had been whacked and knocked out and her heart was going haywire in her chest.

"What happened?" Eddie watched her eyes dart around and for a second he thought she was looking for someone. But when her gaze settled back on him, she relaxed against him and seemed to melt.

"I- I just went dizzy, I'm okay." (Y/n) gave Eddie's hand a squeeze and tried to muster up a smile. She wasn't sure what came over her. She blacked out quicker than she ever had before, but she felt okay. She wasn't in any sort of danger or hurt in any way, and she had blacked out at the right place.

"Why don't we go sit down? You don't usually pass out very often." Eddie moved so he was crouching in front of her and held his hands out until (Y/n) gratefully took them.

She let him pull her up and leaned into his chest when Eddie curved one arm around her waist and kept his other hand tangled with hers for added support. (Y/n) tilted her head into his shoulder and followed his direction towards the locker room. He wasn't so sure (Y/n) would get up the stairs into the kitchen right now when she was shaking and had only just come back round.

Eddie would rather get (Y/n) sat down in the locker room and make sure she was back to feeling herself before risking moving anywhere else. He still didn't know why she had passed out. He didn't know whether (Y/n) hadn't eaten a lot today, whether she just felt unwell or if it was something to do with the baby. He wanted to keep an eye on her for the time being.

"Are you sure you feel okay?" Eddie moved his hand to her shoulder when she slumped down on the bench and braced her hands on her knees. The way she tilted her head back on his arm and smiled tiredly yet sweetly up at him calmed down one of his many nerves.

"Just lightheaded, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, just stay here a minute while I get Chris and find you a drink, okay?"

(Y/n) nodded and when she felt Eddie kiss her temple, she let her eyes fall closed and started to rake her hands up and down her legs to try and liven herself up a little. She would have to apologise to Chris, she had probably scared him.

Her hand moved to drag through her hair, brushing it back behind her ears and out of her eyes as she took deep, calming breaths.

"I hope you didn't collapse because of me."

Tremors rattled through (Y/n)'s bones until she was trembling back and forth on the bench. Her blood ran cold and disappeared down to her toes as her fingertips went numb and she could barely feel her nails piercing through her leggings into her thighs.

She didn't want to look. She didn't want to turn and look over her shoulder at the owner of that voice she knew she had heard before. But she didn't have to. He walked around until he was stood in front of her, arms casually folded over his chest and his shoulders pushed back into the lockers so he was slanted at an angle.

"Evan." His name fell from her lips in a whisper that he could barely hear, but it made his lips curl into the purest smile (Y/n) had ever seen. And it made her stomach churn.

"Nice to see you too, babe." His hands clenched over his biceps and his head tilted to the side as his eyes stayed focused on (Y/n). He could see she was barely able to catch a proper breath and her eyes were blown so wide there was no colour left in them, just black holes that went on for miles.

"Why… why're you here?"

"Me? I work here. Question is what're you doing here? Last time I checked, you didn't live in LA." Evan pushed off the lockers and took a step closer which caused (Y/n) to lean back and tilt her head up to stay focused on him.

He never told her he lived in LA either. She knew he wasn't from Chrissy's hometown. She knew he was only visiting while he was off sick from his job. But he never said he was a fireman. He told her he worked for the emergency services, but never which department and it never came up because he was recovering from multiple leg surgeries. He hadn't been at work.

Evan never told her where he worked, where he originally lived or the nickname everyone called him. If she'd of known, she wouldn't have come down to stay with Eddie.

If she knew her brother's best friend was the person she was trying to get away from, she would have risked going back home to Texas and faced their parents.

She had landed herself right in the middle of Hell by coming here.

"Did you… was… was this on purpose? Did you always know, about Eddie?" Tears pooled in (Y/n)'s eyes but she couldn't find it in herself to begin crying. She had cried so much about Evan and this whole situation. Crying in front of him didn't feel right and she didn't have the willpower to do it.

She just wanted to go home.

Had he always known? Had he known from the moment he met her that she was Eddie's little sister? Is that why he was so keen on staying in a relationship with her and making this obsession work?

"Finding out I'd fallen for Eddie's little sister was a bonus." He scratched his hand across his jaw and took another three steps forward until he was stood between (Y/n)'s legs. Towering over her like a skyscraper. "This is fate, baby girl."

He hadn't planned anything. He fell for her and once he found out her last name, everything clicked and it made things even better. He had fallen for his best friend's younger sister. And Evan wasn't letting her disappear from him again. She wasn't leaving him when they had a connection, when they had something special that Evan wasn't giving up on.

He knew what they had was what he wanted. Why could everyone else find love and relationships and stick together and start families, but not Evan? Why wouldn't it work for him?

Well, not this time.

This time, Evan was taking control. He had something with (Y/n) and he wasn't letting it go because she was scared to be with him and face that this was special. Evan believed in fate, and he believed that this was a sign. This is what he'd been praying for, and he wasn't letting it go so easily.

(Y/n) could feel the panic dwelling up in her chest and taking over her body when Evan leaned forward. She wasn't sure where his hands were going, but while one hand moved to rest beside her hip on the bench, a chill tore through her when his other hand curved over her stomach.

He knew. He knew what she had tried to hide from him. He knew why she had come down to LA in the vain hope that if he went back to Chrissy's, he wouldn't find (Y/n) there and wouldn't find out she was pregnant.

His thumb glided across her stomach and when he looked down, his smile would of made (Y/n) melt if this situation were any different.

"And now I know you're pregnant, and I can see from that look on your face that it's mine."

(Y/n) wanted to cry when Evan leaned down and kissed her. She wanted to cry for every emotion he's made her feel and every way he'd screwed with her thoughts and emotions and controlled everything she tried to do. She wanted to cry for the baby she had tried to protect and keep safe from him.

But (Y/n) never truly believed she would keep this from him. She had a gut feeling that Evan would find out sooner or later, some way or another. She knew he would find out she was having his baby. And once he knew, he wasn't going to let her go.

And she couldn't stop the way she curled her hand around his wrist when he swiped his tongue across her lips and into her mouth and he bit her lip, devouring every breath she tried to take.

"Don't think for one second that I'm gonna let you keep them from me. This is our baby, you're not doing this without me."

#evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #eddie diaz #bobby nash #this is fate

[thebearer]

thinking about how you and carmy meet because you go to the restaurant with friends and the team teases him because he is very much not focused tonight and it has something to do with the very pretty girl sitting at the table by the window

he takes your order bc he had to cover for richie. he's disheveled and a little messy, total scatter brain bc he's on the brink of an anxiety attack.

he starts to take your order but is interrupted from the kitchen, you catch on that he's the guy in charge. "are you the chef?"

"one of 'em, yeah." carmen can barely meet your eyes, nervous, palms sweating because fuck you're looking at him? talking to him? "what can I get ya?"

"whatever you think." you grin, pulling out your card. "you're the chef."

"yeah but I-I don't know what you like." carmen stutters.

"true. so give me what you like. what you would want to have if you were me." you shrug.

you don't know it then, but carmen had been struggling about what to serve a journalist for the upcoming feature in a foodie "you have to eat here if you're in chicago" whole piece for the bear. carmen thought about it and ended up going with syd's lemon risotto.

he watched anxiously as you take your first bite, eyes closing and nodding to your friends, sliding it over for them to "taste this, you gotta taste this" and they all hum and nod in agreement. his heart is fluttering.

sweaty palms and pounding heart, he decides to go out to your table. "how was it?" he asks, a little shaky. "good choice?"

"the best." you beam. "better than I would have ever picked. I would've gotten chicken tenders."

carmen laughs, shaking his head at you. you were funny, not scared- it intrigued him. you were like a magnet to him, pulling him closer and closer, everything he wanted to be- to be with.

"well, uh," carmen's hands clutched the napkin in his hand. "if you, uh, if you ever want more recommendations." his hands shook, cursing himself for how his heart was racing- how uncool he felt so nervous. you didn't seem to notice, smiling softly at him. "here's my number, ya know. if you ever want-want some recommendations or if you're around here again and want me to make you somethin'."

you grin, looking at the digits scrawled on the back of the crumbled receipt paper. "thank you." you beam. "I'll take you up on that..."

"carmen." he says quickly. "my name's carmen berzatto, hi."

you smile, telling him your name, slipping the paper into your purse.

later that night, after carmen's convinced himself you'd never go for him, he's cleaning the kitchen, chain smoking furiously to calm his nerves from spiraling when his phone buzzes.

'hi chef carmen :) thank you again for the rec tonight it was amazing! if you're up for it, would you want to go out friday night? i'm not a chef but i know a place with great drinks?'

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #thebearer #thebearerblurbs

[gogh-with-the-flow]

Part 4 of cheating!Soap. Simon's POV. Angst. Potentially ooc Simon.

---

Simon Riley is a bad man. He wasn't given much of a choice really. He was dealt a bad hand that kept getting worse and worse. He tried to live a good life, despite his childhood, but it was all taken away from him in fire and blood. So he threw himself into it headfirst. He dove into it and found comfort in the fire and blood. He knew fire and blood. He's good at fire and blood.

Simon Riley is a lonely man. All his life, he's never had anyone. He keeps everyone he meets at arms-length at a minimum. He doesn't do love. He doesn't believe in it. The last time he tasted it was from his mother, and that taste has long since been replaced by the tinny taste of blood. He's comfortable being alone. He fills his time with work, and on the rare occasion he's sent back home to his barren flat in Manchester, the most he does is find a quick fuck at a pub.

He doesn't care about their names, he doesn't particularly care if they're a man or woman or something in between. He doesn't care what they look like, he hardly looks at them at all. They're just a means to an end for him. Just a warm hole to stuff himself into to feel good for a bit, to make his head quiet for a bit. He leaves once he's done. He never stays the night, never even stays much longer than to tie off his condom and pull his trousers back up.

It all changed when he met that damned spitfire of a man John MacTavish. Goes by the name 'Soap'. A ridiculous nickname in Simon's opinion, but then again, he goes by Ghost, so he doesn't have much room to talk.

Soap is loud and brash, but he can be careful and focused, too. He's intensely loyal and has a deep sense of justice. He fights for what's right, Ghost has seen it. He makes the icy shell around Ghost's heart melt, ever so slightly.

It's a slow progression, the way Soap draws Ghost into his orbit. Ghost doesn't even fully realize its happened until Las Almas. There was a moment when he thought he lost Johnny- when did Soap become Johnny? They had gotten separated and Ghost waited for him. Ghost never waited. But he couldn't, in that moment, hiding out in a church with a whole militia after him, even fathom leaving Johnny behind.

By the time Simon realized he loved Johnny it was too late. Johnny was married. Simon hadn't noticed that when he read Soap's dossier years ago. It must have happened in the time they had known each other. Simon had never pinned Johnny as someone to keep his cards so close to his chest like that, but he was proved wrong.

Johnny didn't wear his ring in the field. It was a liability, not just to have jewelry on in life-or-death situations, but also for anyone to see he was married, be it friend or foe. He didn't find out until after Chicago. It seemed that Soap's near-death experience at the top of a skyscraper had shaken him more than he'd let on. He'd snuck off at the bar to use the payphone and Ghost had followed.

"Hey, its me... Just needed to hear your voice, bonnie... No, no, I'm alright, just a wee bit banged up... Yeah, I miss you too, lovie... No I promise I'm alright. Just got a bit worried the whole 'til death do us part' thing was comin' sooner than expected... Sorry, bonnie... No, no, you're right, it's not funny. I'm sorry... I'll be home in a few days... Yeah... I'll see you then. I love you."

Simon hated you. He hated you and he didn't even know you. He didn't even know you existed and he hated you. Who were you? Some civilian? Some random woman who decided to shack up with Johnny? Probably just chasing valor or benefits or something. What could you possibly have to offer someone like Johnny? You could never understand him the way Simon does. Their bond is forged in fire and blood. You could never hope to understand it. They'd been through hell together. And yet you've wormed your way in between them. You, a woman he doesn't even know, have ruined everything. But Simon, ever the stoic sentinel, keeps it all under wraps with practiced patience. He didn't survive this long by letting his emotions control him. He'll figure out a way to fix this.

Then several months later, Simon meets you. It's after another mission, and you're picking up Soap from base, who had gotten a mild concussion and couldn't drive himself. You're there, waiting for him with a lovesick smile on your face. Simon watches as you embrace Johnny, wrapping him in your arms and holding him for a long time. Too long, in Simon's opinion. And then you pull back and hold Soap's head in your hands, turning his face side to side to get a better look at him. You laugh at something he says. Simon sneers. Oh, aren't you just perfect? A sweet little doting wife?

And then Johnny brings you over to introduce you two. You shake Simon's hand with both of yours, gratitude broadcast to the world as you thank him for getting your Johnny home safe. Your Johnny. Simon hates it. He hates how sincere you are. He wishes you were something worse, something worth hating. But Ghost reads people. He's great at it. But he can't read anything but genuine in you. And it makes him hate you more.

It isn't fair, Simon thinks. You don't deserve someone like Johnny. You haven't earned him. You haven't fought for him like Simon has. You haven't fought alongside him like Simon has. Simon has suffered. His whole life has been nothing but blood and fire. Doesn't he deserve something good for once? Hasn't he earned it? Even the devil himself got to taste heaven before he fell to earth.

That's what he tells himself on that night. The night they were stuck in that frozen safe house in the middle of Bumfuck, Russia. They'd narrowly escaped the enemy, and they didn't dare poke their heads out for risk of being spotted. Soap's radio had broken in the escape. Ghost was the only one with a means to communicate with Watcher. She tells him exfil will be there in the morning. He unplugs his radio. He tells Soap he can't get through. He tells himself that he's justified. He's a devil seeking a taste of heaven.

And what is Johnny if not heaven? Simon needs him. He needs to taste him. Johnny is worried. Simon can feel it rolling off him in waves. Simon can make it all better for him. Just for tonight.

"Who knows when exfil's gonna get here?" He asks. "What do we have to lose? It's just for tonight. Just let me take care of you, Johnny."

Simon can feel the hesitation in Johnny's body when he kisses him. But Johnny let's Simon lay him down. Simon whispers words into Johnny's ear. Not quite words of reassurance. But Simon Riley is a bad man, and a lonely man, and those two things make a nasty combination.

Simon tastes every part of Johnny's body he can get his mouth on. Neither man has bathed in days, and a lesser man would be disgusted, but Simon has experienced far worse. Besides, nothing about Johnny could ever disgust him.

And when Johnny let's him inside, Simon, that devil, finally tastes his slice of heaven. A whole life of suffering was worth is just to feel Johnny beneath him. It's perfect, he thinks. Even if only for the night. Simon looks Johnny in the eye. Simon stays with him afterward. Simon sleeps beside him.

Then morning comes. Exfil comes. Regret comes for Johnny, but not for Simon. Maybe he shouldn't had lied about his radio, but it was worth it, wasn't it? But now Johnny won't look at him. He won't speak to him. He practically runs from him when they land.

No, no, no. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This was supposed to fix things! It was supposed to fix what you had ruined! You, Soap's perfect wife with your perfect life, perfectly ruining Simon's. Johnny was supposed to see that he needed Simon more. Johnny was supposed to see that he needed Simon as much as Simon needed him. What happened? What went wrong? Simon blames you. He always blames you.

Simon calls Johnny late that night, after he's sure you must be in bed. He pleads with Johnny to come to his senses. It wasn't a mistake! How could he say that? How could he say that it was wrong when Simon had never felt so right in his whole life? It's your fault. You've got Johnny trapped under some kind of spell. You can't love him like Simon could, like Simon does. Simon changes tactics.

"You have to tell her," Simon tells him. Maybe if you know, you'll leave. Then Simon can have Johnny all to himself, without you getting in the way again. "The guilt will eat you up, it's better if you just tell her. Its the right thing to do." Johnny reluctantly agrees.

Simon waits for Johnny to call him the next night, to tell him you've kicked him out. He waits for the call so he can swoop in and be Johnny's rescuer. Maybe then Johnny will see how much he loves him. But Johnny never calls. Simon would be tearing his hair out with anxiety if it wasn't so close-cropped to his head. What's happened to him? He hasn't lost control of his emotions like this in years. What have you done to him?

Simon drives to Johnny's house. He watches from the curb through your window. Johnny's alone. Good. He has half a mind to walk up to the door when he sees you come around the corner. He watches you two talk. He watches you cry. Crocodile tears, they must be! Poor you, having your perfect life be derailed. Simon was justified. It's only fair that you suffer even a fraction that he has so he can take some of your perfect life for his own.

But then Johnny is holding you. Johnny is kissing you. No, no this isn't right! You should be screaming at him to leave! You should be beating Soap to a pulp so Simon can put him back together! Why won't you let him have this?

He watches Johnny carry you away. He forces himself to drive away before he does something he'll regret. He speeds the whole way home. He turns his apartment upside-down. In the back of his mind he's thankful he lives in a shit part of town where no one calls the cops unless someone is actually dead. No noise complaints as he shatters every mirror.

It's your fault he's losing control. You you would just let him have Johnny, it would all be fine. But you, you selfish bitch, want to keep Johnny all to yourself. Why? Because you've got a ring? Because you made a vow? Well, Simon makes a vow to himself. No matter how long it takes, he will make Johnny his.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley angst #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish angst

[iamwhoami]

Babysitting 101

Chicago Med

You and Connor babysit Owen so that Will and Natalie can still have their date night after the babysitter calls in sick.

Warnings: None

Requested = Yes

Y/L/N = Your Last Name

"Nice job back there Dr. Y/L/N," Connor smiled at you.

The two of you had just finished a relatively easy surgery and had returned to the ED to help with the backlog of patients. Between the icy roads and flu season, they could use all the help they could get in there.

"You weren't too shabby either Dr. Rhodes," You shot back and Connor smirked.

"Quit flirting over there lovebirds," Maggie called out, "Y/N you're needed in Treatment 2. Connor, we have an incoming five minutes out, you're going to Baghdad."

"I'll see you after shift then?" Connor quirked an eyebrow and you nodded.

"You bet."

~~~

The rest of your day flew by without any sight of your boyfriend. You were so busy, constantly rushing from one room to next in an attempt to catch up with the schedule.

By the end of your shift, you were absolutely exhausted and wanted nothing more than to open a bottle of wine and put on your favourite movie while snuggling Connor on the couch.

It was that thought that managed to keep you on your feet.

"I am ready to call it a night," You breathed out while you gathered your items, "I don't know if my feet could stand a moment longer."

"Well, they're going to need to find some juice if you want to get to your car," Maggie joked.

You laughed, "Not if I can convince Connor to carry me there."

"I don't think you'd have any trouble," Maggie said and shook her head, "That man is whipped for you..."

You both chuckled at that but you both also knew it was true. Connor would fly to the moon for you.

"Well, have a good night Y/N," Maggie said and left, leaving you to wait for Connor alone.

You quietly waited on the couch for Connor to finish up his last surgery of the day. Nurses and doctors bustled in and out of the lounge and you wished each and every one of them a good night. You were mostly just on your phone, not actively engaging in any other conversation when you overheard your friend Natalie speaking.

"Sorry Will," She was saying, "The nanny just texted. She can't stay later tonight, something with her sister came up."

"Don't worry about it," Will responded, "I'll cancel the reservation then."

You spoke before you could really think things through, "I can watch Owen!"

When your sudden outburst was met with confused silence, you flushed and fumbled with your words.

"I wasn't eavesdropping, I just overheard," You mumbled quickly, "But seriously if you guys need someone to watch Owen, Connor and I can totally do it."

"Connor won't mind?" Natalie asked and you shook your head.

You and Connor hadn't really talked about kids but this wasn't anything like that. All you had to do was look after a toddler for a few hours. How hard could that be?

"We don't have anything better to do tonight anyway," You told them, "In fact, I think it'll be really fun!"

Natalie chuckled at your enthusiasm, "Well I can assure you that it won't be dull."

"Exactly," You pointed your finger at her, "You and Will go on your date. Do. Not. Cancel. Connor and I will watch Owen."

Will and Natalie took a moment to look at each other as if they were contemplating your offer. Finally, Natalie turned back to face you and nodded.

"Thank you Y/N," Natalie said genuinely, "I owe you one."

You shook your head though, "Nah...you don't owe me anything. I'm just glad I can help."

It was decided that Natalie and Will would go and get ready for their date and that they would drop off Owen when you and Connor were back at your apartment. You figured that you should give Connor a heads up but he was still in surgery and you weren't going to disturb him because he was suddenly on babysitting duty afterwards.

He'd get over it.

About ten minutes later, a tired-looking Connor walked into the doctor's lounge and the deepest part of your gut felt bad that you had dragged him into babysitting Owen after a long shift. That guilt caused you to just stare at your boyfriend for a solid minute before he pointed it out.

"What did you do," Connor demanded teasingly as he turned to face you.

You quickly snapped out of your trance, "Nothing!"

"Uh-huh..." Connor raised an eyebrow, "I know that look Y/N."

You feigned offence, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Connor only continued to stare at you and after a while, you finally caved.

"Okay fine," You sighed. "You have to promise that you won't get mad."

Connor nodded, "Okay..."

"I..." You squeezed your eyes shut before opening them again. "I kind of volunteered us to babysit Owen while Nat and Will go on a date."

Silence.

“So…” You stared at Connor, “Thoughts?”

Connor raised an eyebrow, “You voluntarily agreed to look after a toddler…after working a 12 hour shift…”

“Correct.”

The two of you stood there, staring at each other, unmoving. After a hot second, Connor let out a slightly exasperated sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“Alrighty then, I suppose we should get going then,” Connor gave you a small smile, “wouldn’t want to keep Nat and Will waiting now would we?”

~~~ Perhaps you had underestimated how exhausting looking after a toddler could be.

No, you definitely had.

Dinner had been tiring enough. Somehow more food had gotten on you and Connor than into Owen's stomach.

"You've got a little something there," Connor teased and wiped mashed potato off your eyebrows.

You laughed, "What? Are you sure it's not my new makeup?"

Game after game. Activity after activity. It just didn't end, and yet somehow, it was you and Connor that were tired out, not Owen.

"Y/N!" Owen's little voice gleefully called out. "Come play!"

You huffed but smiled big for the little boy before pushing yourself onto your feet.

Connor couldn't help but chuckle, "Are you having some regrets right about now?"

"Pfttt, never," You shook your head as you sat yourself down on the ground next to Owen. "Right buddy? We're having a blast?"

Connor smiled at you affectionately. He couldn't deny that he was tired but he also had zero regrets. You were so good with Owen. The way you spoke to him. The way you naturally were so attuned to his needs. The way you understood his toddler language.

It took about another hour before Owen's energy began to wane. After a ten minute chase around the apartment, you had managed to wrangle Owen into his pajamas and Connor convinced him to brush his teeth.

Another twenty minutes later and Owen was passed out in bed and you and Connor collapsed on the couch.

"I'm not sure which was more exhausting," Connor joked. "Our twelve hour shift or this."

You teased, "Did a toddler outdo you?"

"Absolutely," Connor shook his head. "I was absolutely outdone by a toddler."

Laughing, you leaned against Connor who wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to his chest.

"You're really good with him you know," Connor softly said.

You hummed, "You weren't so bad yourself."

"Maybe we should babysit more often," Connor added and you scoffed.

"I think we need a few weeks to recover before making any big decisions."

#chicago med #Chicago med x reader #chicago med imagine #chicago med imagines #connor rhodes #connor rhodes imagine #connor rhodes imagines #connor rhodes x reader

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap 4 progress

Now with 200% more bat!

masterpost

“Alright, have a good day.” Tim handed the clipboard back to a stone-faced delivery guy and took the package from Miss Fox back to his technology lair. He got a glass of water on the way down and then went about reproducing the experiment that Tam asked for.

She wouldn't give him details. But from the instructions and reported results, Tim was pretty sure that some employee had misrepresented their process. To what end, he didn't know. He was just the science guy, not a detective guy.

Although if he had to guess he'd say that they had switched out a needed chemical to hide that the supply was lower than recorded.

But whatever. That wasn't his business.

Tim happily went about science, recreating a corrosive liquid that would supposedly eat through reinforced metal. He had to make the Wayne tech protective coating for the metal as well to do the experiment properly. When he finished that he carefully dipped metal sheets in it and set them to drip dry. Then he turned back to the acid project.

Supposedly, the acid had been a failure. Tim thought it should work. Apparently Tam did, too.

The screens around the room all went black. He wasn't even using them but it was a hard thing to miss in your peripheral vision.

Tim groaned. “What now?” He asked the room. He clanged a piece of metal to the tabletop. “I am trying to finish this.”

Had he tripped some kind of security protection? Maybe they had all gone to sleep without getting a password at spaced intervals?

To be perfectly clear, Tim did not expect any kind of response.

Therefore he was startled halfway out of his skin when a female laugh came barrelling out of the speakers of the largest mounted screen.

He crossed his arms in a sulk.

“Tim?” She asked, after she caught her breath. “You're tiny.”

His face was catastrophically cranky: he could see it reflected back in the black screen. It was a perfect replica of Janet Drake discovering after she had formatted her latest paper in Chicago Style that the publication required the savagery of MLA formatting.

She laughed again. It ended with a hiccup.

‘Whoever this is, she can see me. She must be someone who knows me if I gave her that kind of access.’

“I'm not sure we're friends,” Tim announced, because it was time to face the facts: these people all knew a version of him, and that Tim was bigger. At least like, three inches. “I'm aware that I am small. I am working on it.” He glowered at the computer she seemed to be using.

It would take what, two years top for a major growth spurt? They could just chew bubblegum until then.

“Is that what you're doing now?”

Tim sighed. “No, I'm doing something for Tam,” he admitted. He scrubbed at his face with a hand. “Probably a good time for a break.” He started to tidy up.

“Yeah, so, I guess I can tell Dick that you haven't been kidnapped by lions or whatever it is he's talking about,” the lady said. The line turned to static for a second, then back just as quickly. “You, uh, need some help?”

“Absolutely not.” Tim shook his head in a sharp, decisive Jack Drake movement. “I don't need to be babied.”

“...I can see why you think you're in danger of it.” She snorted again. “Unblock Dick, please, he's got delicate feelings and I think we both have plans for tonight that don't involve him scaling your walls to find a way in.”

“....I'll unblock him,” Tim took the L gracefully. “I appreciate your silence on this matter.”

She snorted again. “Sorry.” She didn't sound very sorry. “It's just- your little businessman voice is so funny. I'm sorry, Tim.”

He looked up at the ceiling for patience.

“Oracle out.”

All the screens returned to normal. Tim let out a big long sigh and went back upstairs, taking his empty water class with him. At least he had a name, right? Oracle. He'd gotten a call from Oracle.

He mentally arranged the facts as he trudged up the stairs.

Fact one: he had replaced a Tim, who was Tim Drake-Wayne. (Upsetting information).

Drake-Wayne had to be fundamentally the same Tim as he was, given that both Tam and Oracle had immediately recognized him.

Fact two: Tim D-W was a vigilante.

Fact three: That was really cool.

Tim reached the top and made a mental note to enroll in some martial arts classes when he got back home. If he had potential to fight crime, of course he was going to do that. He unblocked Dick: oh no, Dick Wayne. He'd blocked Robin. He felt mortified. It was so obvious in retrospect. He put the phone down on the table, stomach twisting in social agony.

The phone immediately lit up with messages.

Well. Robin should be less annoying, if he didn't wanna get blocked.

He clambered onto the counter to search through for anything that would make a good lunch.

“... I'm terrible,” Tim complained. He stuck his head fully into the cupboard as if there might be something good at the back. “This sucks!”

Alright. Something had to be done. Tim decisively climbed down, using an open drawer as a step. He shut it with his heels and then went in search of a wallet. He needed a credit card and to find a delivery service.

He was going to act on faith that big Tim D-W wasn't going to ruin his life, even though he was a loser. Tim was doing a great job keeping Tim D-W’s life afloat. That merited some payment.

He converted that payment into a huge order to a grocery delivery service. He referenced Tam’s package to get the address.

The order was simple: fruits, breakfast meat, lots of bakery bread, and sandwich fillings. He was going to have tuna salad with cucumber and lettuce. He was going to learn to make egg salad. Optimistically, he even added melty cheese to the order and a can of tomato soup mix: grilled cheese couldn't be that hard, right?

He rounded off the order with lots of individually packaged drinks: milk and juice boxes, cans of grape Zesti, and hot cocoa powder.

"…This is so exciting,” Tim said to his empty apartment. His. In a very real and meaningful way, it was his apartment. He was totally unsupervised. Neat!

The phone buzzed again. When he picked it up it said “Jason.”

Tim blue screened. Tim dropped the credit card with a clatter. It disappeared under the table and he didn't even think to look for it.

Jason. Omigod, Jason. Jason was a person who existed. He'd forgotten.

All the pieces came together in a beautiful flash of light. He wasn't in a troubled huge age-difference relationship with Bruce (21 year difference) or Dick (9 year difference) . He'd gotten married to Jason Wayne, the kid that Bruce had brought home like a day ago according to the Gotham Gazette. (3 year difference: normal.)

The phone was still ringing. Tim picked it up with numb fingers. “Hello?”

“Hey, Timbers,” said a male voice. It was low, rough, and impatient. “You freaked Dickiebird out and he's been squawking at me all day. Tell me how many pieces you're in.”

Tim looked down at his body. “Just the one,” he said, voice coming out breathy. It felt like his being was floating outside his body. Wow. This was his boy- no, husband? Holy moly. He couldn't cope with that, he had to stick with boyfriend. He bit his lip. He had to make a good impression.

“...You sound about 10 years old there,” Jason said. He didn't hide his amusement. “You been huffing helium, babybird?”

Tim went bright red at the pet name. Painfully red. His face was on fire.

Jason took his silence as a response. “Alright, alright, keep your clothes on. You must be sick as fuck, poor thing. No wonder you didn't come out to play last night.”

Tim slapped his hands on his face and tried not to hyperventilate.

“I wasn't calling for Dick, don't get it twisted.” Jason cleared his throat, tone a little odd. “I picked up on something - I think one of my ongoing cases dips into your patrol area. You gonna come out on patrol tonight?”

“...No,” Tim said. There was no way that would go well. He didn't know martial arts yet.

Jason cursed, but he didn't sound mad about it. “Fair enough,” he muttered. “Uh, think you could do some surveillance for me?”

Tim nodded. Then he felt dumb and cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

…He felt even dumber. What should he say? This was his boyfriend. The stakes were so high. He had never wanted anyone to like him more.

Jason rattled off an address. It, like everything Jason had said, was going to live inside Tim’s head forever in perfect clarity. “Thanks,” he added after, a bit begrudgingly. “This guy's real fucking sick, been making human sausage.”

Tim… wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but it sounded really bad. “I'll do my best,” he promised.

“Yeah…” Jason trailed off. “Maybe you should take a nap, some meds. That's a terrible hoarse throat. Don't kick your own ass on my account, okay?”

“Okay,” Tim helplessly echoed, and hung up. He sat in silence for a solid minute afterwards.

#red nest swap #dc fanfic #tim drake deaged #tim drake

[carolmunson]

peanut butter vibe. (steve harrington x thick!reader)

fulfilling my own request for mean!hot!thick!reader and hot!rich!wealthy!corporate!steve harrington who is not so secretly in love with you. takes place in 1996 - reader and steve are 29 turning 30

word count: 10.2K

warnings: 18+ minors dni, f!reader, smut smut smut smut, there is smut everywere in this. from flashback smut to actual smut, they've BEEN fucking. mild daddy kink, face sitting, face riding, unprotected p in v sex, fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving), references to shower sex. body type mention, very little body insecurity mention, reference to an ex boyfriend saying reader was 'too big' for something but it's not like -- something that they take into consideration. dirty talk, pet names (honey, baby, 'good girl' etc.), mild choking, steve is so bitchy but also so soft in this i hate him.

"Hi Stevie, it's me. I'm uh, I'm back a little early, Carly's having her baby soon -- I know it was a little weird last time with Andy being with me. We um, we broke up so he's not here this time. It wasn't like a big blow out or anything but -- why am I talking about this on your answering machine? Sorry. I'll be at Porter's tonight around 6 if you wanted to meet me there? It'd be cool to see you, I guess. -sigh- It's hard to bully you when you aren't responding. Anyway, bye -- I know you'll be there at 5:57 because you can't wait to see me."

Steve let out a sigh while the answering machine closed out with a beep, the robotic voice announcing 'End of Messages'. He took his glasses off and ran a hand over his face, tossing a look at the clock on the wall across from him. It was almost quitting time, and Porter's was only a twenty minute drive away from the office. Part of him selfishly didn't want to show up, or maybe show up a little late to make you sweat since you'd forced him to meet your boyfriend last time. Well, ex boyfriend now.

You and Steve weren't friends in high school. He was busy being King Steve, basketball playing jock covered in ladies and popular people. You were busy in drama club and creative writing in the library, protecting your friends from people like Steve. Sure you knew each other, you graduated in the same year, had a couple of classes together -- but neither of you were very interested in offering each other the time of day. Two incredibly different ships passing in the night.

You weren't Steve's type in high school, either. Steve was always caught with what you'd describe as 'pretty little things'. Girls with waists he could wrap his hands around, thin and toned thighs, girls with a little jiggle where it mattered the most and none where it didn't. The girl's wearing bikini's to his house parties when the pool was open. Maybe if you had looked like that, you would've known Steve in high school -- but then again, he wasn't really the kind of guy you were trying to hail down in Hawkins.

When you weren't getting finger blasted backstage by Eddie 'The Freak' Munson when he got to the theater too early for Hellfire Club, you were making eyes at college freshman at the coffee shop you worked at. Something about slightly older men, y'know? A little mature, a little more sure of themselves. Pouring over books and scribbling in their notebooks behind their frames, staying until close to finish a paper or study for an exam. You had one or two wrapped around your finger your senior year before you left to go to school in Chicago. After Chicago it was New York -- working in marketing for a cosmetics line.

You'd come back to Hawkins every year for the holidays, but one year when your grandfather passed away you ended up at Porter's after the funeral. You were 24 and heartbroken, nursing a glass of red wine, looking out of place in your Manhattan clothes in the cozy small town bar.

You were alone at the stools until Steve Harrington came through the door, suit jacket slung over his shoulder and tie loosened over his button down. He nodded at the bar tender who instinctively poured him a whiskey before he even made it to the barstool two over from you.

"Rough day, Harrington?" he asked, sliding the drink down to him.

"You wouldn't believe, Paul," he shook his head, carding his fingers through his hair. He rested his chin on one hand, propped up on his elbow, catching your movement in the corner of his eye. He turned his head and looked over at you, a endearing smile lighting up his tired face -- that Harrington charm.

"What about you? Rough day?" he asked. At first you didn't realize he was talking to you, looking down into your wine and listening to the drone of whatever sports game was on the TV. You were brought back to earth when a soft 'hey' came from his direction.

"Me? Oh, yeah. My grandpa's funeral," you said with a scrunched face, shrugging, "Sort of a huge downer."

"Oh, wow," Steve said, turning his full body towards you on the stool, "Sorry for your loss -- that's -- yeah that beats my day. Sorry about that."

You murmur a thank you and go back to your wine, hearing him shift in his seat.

"You look really familiar," he says gently, scanning your face.

"We went to high school together," you say with a smile after a sip of your Malbec, "Class of '85."

"Hawkins High? You sure?," his voice gets a little syrupy, "I think I'd remember you."

"I was in drama -- wasn't really your type," you say with a smart head tilt. It didn't bother you that you hadn't been. The same way it didn't bother you that you might've been his type now.

You spent three hours together talking at the bar, exchanging stories about high school and your years out of it. He told you how he just started on the sales team for some big insurance company and felt so out of his depth but at least he got to wear a suit. You told him about your dingy apartment in the Lower East Side and how you missed driving all the time.

You spent another hour fucking in his BMW, riding him in the back seat tucked in a dark corner of the Porter's empty parking lot. Your skirt pushed up over your hips.

"Fuck," Steve grunted through gritted teeth, splayed out in the center of the back seat, his legs as far out as that could go, "Y'feel so fucking good. So fucking good on top of me."

You whimpered in response, the curve of his cock hitting your spongey, sensitive g-spot with every bounce. Your grip on his shoulders tightened as his hands moved smoothly over your thighs, finger tips digging into your fleshy hips when he got your reflection in the rear view mirror. Rear view, indeed. He let his eyes rest on the reverberation of your ass coming down on his hips and big legs with each shove down on his cock. The wet smack! of is crotch hitting against your soaked pussy making him want to fuck you even harder. He kneaded your body in his hands, grabbing handfuls of you as he got to your backside, humming while he felt it shake just out of his grasp.

You yelped when his warm palm cracked down on it, an angry sting running through your lower body. You couldn't help but tighten around him, slick dripping over him between your legs.

"Hm, you like that? You like when I smack that fucking ass?" he asked, holding your hips down so he could buck into you with a faster speed. Groaning while he pumped with vigor, you hear another hard crack on your ass resounding in the backseat before you feel the burn of it. Your whines made his cock twitch, slowing down to feel your hips grinding desperately against him for more friction. You slapped your palms gently against his clothed chest, pouting as you shimmied for more of his assault against your aching cunt.

“You love this cock, huh? Look at you, so fuckin' needy for it,” he gloated while your eyes narrowed in on him. Oh no, you weren't about to give Steve Harrington the satisfaction of telling him how fucking amazing his dick felt plowing into you. You weren't about to admit that all the things girls would say about him in high school were true. You reached for his jaw, holding it tight in your hand to look down at him while his hips slowed to a stop. He looked up at you, his eyes a little glassy, his grip loosening on your hips.

“Shut - your mouth,” you hissed down at him. He flushes, a smirk slips onto his lips as he leans back, putting his hands behind his head, his elbows splayed out next to him.

"Yes ma'am," he says with a soft raise to his eyebrows.

"If you'd like," he starts, taking his glasses off and tucking them into his breast pocket. He looks unbothered by your act of dominance while he runs a hand through his hair and leans forward to close the gap between you. His hands digging firmly into your ass to keep you balanced on his thighs.

His lips ghost yours while he speaks low and huskily, "I can take you back to mine and show you all the other ways I know how to use it."

He ate your pussy with the lights on and gave you his number before driving you back to your place.

'I like talking to you,' he shrugged, 'Call me whenever.'

And so began a so far, five year friendship -- you'd have long phone calls every few weeks or months when your busy schedules allowed. Staying updated on each other: how work was going, what bad dates you both had been on, what hijinks you'd been getting into with friends. Promotions, birthdays, hardships. It was nice to have a friend from home, someone who sort of knew the people you knew before you left. Nice to gossip a little, nice to laugh with each other.

Every time you came back to Hawkins, you'd meet up at Porter's for a drink. Have a real talk like you did the first night you got to know each other and then somehow, for some reason, you'd end up back at his place.

"What'd I say? Right on time, Harrington," you call out when he comes through the door. Steve groans, looking at his watch -- 5:57 on the dot. He'd had a long day, he was tired, and for a moment the sound of your voice made him grit his teeth.

You watch him check his watch and his smile tightens. He looks good -- suit much more refined from when you first really met him five years ago. Tailored, in a color that compliments his skin, his tie perfectly kept to his chest with what you assume was a pricey tie clip, shoes shined. He'd fit in great on Wall Street if he'd just get a fucking hair cut.

The way he walks towards you holds a different confidence than it had in the last year and a half when you were with Andy. Though it was clear he didn't particularly like Andy, he was perfectly pleasant -- able to slip right into a cadence of faux friendship you only wished Andy could've done. You once him over a second time as he sits in the stool next to you, his cologne was new, but expected. It felt like every man you knew was wearing Aqua di Gio.

"I know you're always so desperate to impress me but I gotta say, you look a little overdressed for Porter's. Were you nervous or something?" you ask sweetly, sipping on your red wine. You slide a whiskey double infront of him and he looks down at it, a frustrated smile breaks against his face. He bites the tip of his tongue between his teeth, shaking his head -- his hair moves with him.

"Looks like you didn't bother getting dressed up for me at all," he bites back, "C'mon, Manhattan -- a Hawkins High sweatshirt?"

Manhattan -- his favorite nick name when you got too big for your britches. A little too snobby for his liking, which was funny coming from a man with more designer clothing than you could dream to afford.

You looked down at yourself, you'd stolen the sweatshirt from your little sister -- your original one too battered and stained to see the light of day again. Sure, maybe your light wash bootcut jeans weren't screaming high fashion but your black square toed boots were cute! You swore you looked good before you left, but suddenly you weren't sure. You'd fallen off dressing 'nice' when you were home, it just wasn't worth it.

"Okay, mean," you spit, not giving off offense -- but not hiding it either.

"I like the boots, though," he shrugs, lifting the tumbler to his lips. The golden brown of the whiskey matched his eyes, they seemed to soften as the liquid met his mouth.

"Top shelf?" Steve's teeth are bright and straight in his smile while he sets the glass down.

"Do I ever disappoint?" you ask, crossing your legs. He burns pink at the question.

"Never," he's earnest in his response, finally making full eye contact with you, "You staying through the holidays?"

"Just for a few days, then heading back to wrap up Q4, I'll be back on the 23rd like always," you say. He nods and stands up, scooting his bar stool closer to yours -- just enough that your knees brushed. He leans forward, acting like it's too loud to hear you but the bar is only half full. You lean forward too, resting your chin on your hand, elbow drilling into your crossed thighs.

"And how's Carly?" he asks, you can see the delicate five o'clock shadow peeking through on his chin and neck. His lips full and wet with whiskey, he slides his tongue over them slowly to collect the flavor.

"So over being pregnant," you roll your eyes over your older sister's dramatics, "But you know -- she's excited. I'm excited, too! I get to live out my dreams of being the mysterious, hot, rich aunt."

"So, what -- Andy didn't want to be the rich uncle?" he asks, you note that he drops 'mysterious' and 'hot'. The mention of Andy stings a little and your eyes droop down to your wine.

"Sorry," he says, his comforting hand falling on your knee, "I'm sorry."

He squeezes your knee when you don't look up at his apology, a beat passes while you contemplate saying something mean -- but it's a little nice to see him feel apologetic.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks, his thumb soothingly running back and forth over your thigh as his hand moves further up. Steve frowns at your disappointed face, he hated crossing the line by accident.

You shake your head no, tilting your head back up, "Let's wait on that. I wanna hear about that big promotion you got -- we haven't really gotten to talk about it."

Steve got promoted to Director of Sales six months ago and it was kicking his ass way less than his previous management position. What was most exhausting was how incompetent everyone was.

"Well, you were kind of too busy --" he started, but quickly shook his head out of the bit, "It's fine, it's a lot of work -- god, no one ever knows what they're doing. A lot of directing going into this director of sales thing."

"Aww, my little scumbag -- running the insurance show," you coo, "You should do car sales next, so sleazy, you'll fit right in."

"You're somethin' else, tonight," he laughs, taking his hand off your leg, "And are you any better? Working for a company that tells women they're ugly so they'll buy all your shit? How's it going at L'Oreal anyway?"

You sigh and roll yours eyes, "More like L'Ore-hell. I just transferred into the marketing team from customer insights and it's somehow -- boring? I already know the answers to all of the problems they come up with. It's like they don't know who their customer base is."

Steve's eyes sparkle while you continue to rant about ROIs and think tanks, he loves when you talk about how much you hate your job. You get so passionate, you talk so fast he can barely keep up.

"I wish I could check your blood pressue right now," he jokes, it's the kind of joke adults make. Sometimes it feels like you're both playing the parts of adults at these bar hang outs -- two kids in their parent's clothes on barstools, just giggling.

"When I went to the doctor they had to check it twice because I was talking about work when they checked it the first time -- that's how stressed out it makes me," you huff.

"Sorry, I just made that all about me, can you please let me more about your director job -- are you at least happy about the promotion?" you ask.

You miss his hand on your leg but it's probably just the wine talking. Paul comes over to replenish the glass without asking, you and Steve were both two drinks and go kind of people (sometimes you'd sneak a third if he wasn't paying attention).

"I mean, sure -- I'm a step away from getting into a chair position. I'm making more money than I know what to do with. My dad is thrilled for the first time ever," he explains, always so expressive but you catch him nervously swipe through his hair, "But -- fuck...y'know?"

"I don't know," you laugh into your glass, "What do you mean, 'fuck'?"

"I'm gonna be thirty next year and like, what do I have to show for it other than --"

"Other than being a wealthy hometown high school basketball super star, swimming in pussy, who got a cushy office job two years after graduating because your daddy was tired of seeing you work at Family Video, and now is the director of sales at a big wig insurance company after only what -- seven years in the company? And wears designer suits and is still swimming in pussy?" you say in one breath. He sighs at you and leans his head into his hand, elbow resting on the bar.

"Sure -- I guess," he smiles, but it's a sad smile.

"What more do you want, Steve?" you ask with a shrug, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here."

"I don't know," he shrugs, "I mean look at you -- every time you come back you have a new story to tell me, something exciting that happened to you. I have -- pfft -- 'They hired a new secretary! Here's the gossip about other people in Hawkins I learned from my mom! I'm still sort of a loser!"

"I mean sure, yeah, you're a loser," you agree, "But not, y'know, not like -- in the bad way."

He tosses you a look but you smile back at it, making him smile back at you. This time it's genuine, you figure the whiskey is helping. Steve sits back up to full height and leans back in his bar stool, knees splaying out. If he took his suit jacket off you'd swear he'd look like one of those 1950's husbands whose a little annoyed that dinner isn't ready yet -- your thighs press tight together.

"I think you sound bored," you suggest, "Like you need something different."

He drums his fingers on the bar, staring at them while he speaks, "I have some options I've been thinking about, but I don't know. Don't wanna make a fool of myself if it doesn't work out."

"Don't wait too long," you say with a shrug, "Another ten years will fly by like that." You snap your fingers for emphasis.

"What happened with Andy?" he presses, sipping his whiskey to down the rest and putting the empty glass on the table.

You 'ugh' under your breath and take a big sip of wine before you feel him tug at the end of the stem, "Sloooow down. Don't wanna to have to carry you out of here."

"You couldn't carry me, Harrington," you say flatly.

"We both know that I can carry you, but okay," he says with a quirked brow, unimpressed with your attitude. The memory of him hoisting you up against the shower tile in his bathroom with your fleshy thighs wrapped tight around him flashes through your mind. Hot breath and hot water running all over you while he grunted into your ear with each desperate thrust. Steve notices your cheeks heat up -- he knows what you're thinking about, because he is too. A satisfied smile settles onto his lips.

"Alright, settle down," you say, pushing your glass a little away from you towards Steve while his next whiskey arrives. You aren't sure if you're talking to him or to yourself.

"I just..." you breathe out of your nose, "It wasn't working out. I was tired of taking care of him."

"Oh, you broke up with him?" Steve confirms.

"Yeah," you sit back a bit, furrowing your brow, "Did you think he broke up with me?"

"I don't know, you seemed really sad about it!" Steve says, his hands outstretched, "I thought he left you."

"He didn't," you say, "I left, but it's still a bummer. Thought maybe he could've been it, y'know? But, thinking back it would've been -- I don't know -- it wasn't going to happen."

"He didn't want to get married?" he asked, a little surprised.

"I don't think that was in his five year plan, he barely took me out to dinner," you complained, "I was paying for everything 'cause I had a better job."

Steve crossed his arms while you talked, frowning while you continued to ramble about Andy and the break up.

"I just felt like I was putting a lot of effort into him, and I wasn't getting anything in return," you shrug, "And like, that's okay. I'm so used to doing that but...I don't know, I think I just would like for someone to take care of me for a change."

You pause, considering what you said and shake your head, "That sounds so selfish, oh my god."

"I don't think it sounds selfish at all," Steve shakes his head, "I think you're sort of asking for the bare minimum -- I mean fuck, he didn't take you out to dinner? I've taken you out to dinner and you've never even been my..."

You're both quiet for a beat while he trails off, neither of you looking at each other. You reach for your wine and he moves the glass away just as your fingers graze the stem. You lift your butt of the stool and pluck it out of his hand, taking another - smaller - sip. He looks at you like a disappointed father.

"Maybe I wanted to try it? Ugh, you're right Manhattan, you're so selfish," Steve teased.

"You don't like Malbec, Stevie," you swirl the booze in your glass, "That's why I order it."

Steve knows that's why you order Malbec, that's why he kept ordering whiskey -- you don't like it, but he'll know you're getting a little drunk if you ask for a sip of his drink. That's when he knows it's time to take you home, he'd sleep with you another night. He doesn't want you to get too drunk tonight, something about your flushed cheeks. The way you look in those boot cut jeans -- especially when you excused yourself to the bathroom and he could watch you walk away. Whew.

Steve waits for the door to close behind you to hail down Paul to get the check.

"She's gonna get pissy that you're covering it," Paul said while passing him the bill for your drinks, "She told me not to let you pay when she got here."

"Paul -- What's she gonna do? Kill me?" he gestures his hand out while using the other to reach for his wallet. He pulls out a few bills, including a generous tip, and passes them to Paul indiscreetly.

"Steve -- come on!" He winces at your voice, "I told you last time I had it next!"

"My hand slipped -- suddenly the money just appeared in Paul's register, there was nothing I could do," Steve held his hands up.

"Paul!" you call down the bar, but the yell turns into a laugh, "You promised you wouldn't let him pay!"

"He threatened me within an inch of my life. Had to let the man do what he wants," Paul said, putting the cash in the register. You settle back into your stool and cross your legs again, smoothing your damp hands on your jeans.

"I'm gonna kill you, Harrington," you mutter to your knees.

"I feel like 'thank you' would've been a much nicer thing to say," he's always so cool when he talks. You envy how easy it is for him to be charming, to turn it on quickly. Sometimes he makes you feel nervous and seventeen again, even though you've done this so many times before. He looks at you over the whiskey glass while he sips it, eyes glittering behind his glasses. Neither of you have to say anything to know what happens after his finishes his drink.

When you left, he reached for your hand when the door to Porter's closed behind you. You didn't need the support, the parking lot wasn't icy or snow covered, you weren't drunk -- but you let his fingers lace with yours. He guides you deliberately to his car -- of course it's new -- a dark green Porsche 911. What a tool.

"You like my new toy?" he asked. It was easily the most expensive car you'd seen in Indiana.

"Steven," you're a little exasperated -- sometimes he was such a poor little rich boy, "Why?"

He shrugs, "Felt like it."

You let go of his hand to walk to the passengers side door, waiting for him to unlock it while you shiver. He notices you didn't have a coat on, shaming himself silently for not offering his trench for the short walk.

You both get in when he unlocks to doors and you eye the interior, the plush leather of the seats. You squint a little when you cast your eyes over to him, "I feel like you're compensating for something."

"Oh yeah?" he asks casually, starting the car and cranking the heat, "What am I compensating for? Wanna remind me?"

You cross your arms and don't answer because he doesn't have anything to compensate for. Steve Harrington was born blessed, if you were more religious you'd swear he was God's favorite.

"That's what I thought," he says with a grin while pulling out of the parking lot. His hand meets your head rest while he stretches his neck back to check for cars. The same hand falls to your thigh when you make it on the road, sliding his palm over the swell of it -- his fingers resting inside. He let his eyes glance at how your hips filled up the small passengers seat at a red light, your jeans tight over your thighs.

Steve gave you a soft squeeze when the light turned green, you put your hand over his hand at the gesture -- relacing your fingers. You don't notice the gentle smile blooming onto his face, too busy looking at Christmas lights on the houses outside.

--

You don't waste time when you both get into his house, slipping off your shoes at the entry way -- bolstering passed the darkened livingroom to the stairs in his mini-mansion. He follows quickly behind you, getting ahead of you to get into his room to turn on the bedside lamps.

"Are those new?" you whisper -- it's not like anyone is home, it's Steve's house, but the darkness makes you feel like you have to be quiet. He comes back over to you, quick on his socked feet and pulls you in for a feverish kiss.

"Yeah," he says between kisses, all harsh breaths and wet clicks, "I had a new -- mmm -- uh fuck -- new decorator come in."

His hands are wound in your hair while he keeps control of your head, his kisses go from fast and hungry to slow and controlled.

"I'll show you later," he mumbles against your lips. You nod in agreement, you did genuinely want to see. What fancy hotel was it based off of this time?

"This is okay, right?" he asks, pulling away, "I'm sorry I didn't ask I just -- old habits, I guess."

"It's okay, Stevie," you assure, his hands slipping out of your hair and onto your full cheeks. He squishes them together a little and smiles into a little chuckle. Sometimes you're so cute to him he can't stand it, he wants to eat you whole -- wants to keep you in his bed forever.

"Good," he mumbles again before settling back in for a deep kiss that leaves you moaning softly into his mouth, "Missed feeling you like this."

"You're so needy," you tease, his hands dropping from your face to your hips, feeling his own press against yours.

"Oh, you feel that?" he smirks, dick hard in his slacks -- straining despterately to get your attention.

"Needier than I thought," you scoff, "You gonna make it, Steve? You don't even have your jacket off yet."

"Watch your mouth," it's not mean when he says it, he likes when you tease him because you have nothing to back it up. You've never left unsatisfied -- even when you were on top calling him your 'sweet boy', you'd get in the shower after with your legs shaking. Shivering against him when he'd get on his knees and lick at your sensitive clit just to watch you leave hand print on the glass.

"You just sound so pretty, miss. I can't help myself," he'd say from below you, water droplets resting on his eyelashes while you gushed over his mouth.

Steve breaks away to take off his jacket and looks at it for a split second -- hesitating.

"You wanna hang it up, huh?" you know how he gets.

"Will you be mad? I just don't want it to crease," he pleads.

"You're gonna get the suit dry cleaned anyway," you say back, laughing.

"I know, I know, but I have to -- I just have to hang it up, I'm so sorry," he presses a chaste peck to your lips before disappearing into his walk in closet. You take your time getting undressed because you know he'll be at least seven to nine minutes while he puts everything back in the 'to be dry cleaned' part of the closet.

You keep your bra and panties on, white satin, a little lace. He's always a sucker for something angelic that's a little grown up -- but you guess you are grown ups now. It's weird to consider.

He emerges from the closet in his boxer breifs with a frown, "Why'd you take your clothes off without me?"

"You took your clothes off without me," you counter point, "Did you want me to just sit here and wait for you?"

"Kinda," he says with a half shrug, "Would've been nice."

You get a little giddy while he approaches you, his smile building when yours does. His hands skate over the flesh on top of your flared ribs, over to your back. His fingers gliding over the back strap of your bra before snapping it off of you, dropping it to the floor. He traces the indents on your skin from the clothing, red and raw. Big hands grope at your breasts before following the slope of your waist back down to your ass, filling his hands greedily.

"Missed her the most," another chaste kiss to your lips, "But I think you knew that." Steve had always thought he was a tits guy until he met you, maybe you were the exception. Maybe he liked all your parts.

"I knew that," you say, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Can you stop stalling, Harrington? This wine's gonna wear off soon."

With your hold on his neck, laying you back on the mattress was an easy feat. He spread you out wide, pushing your hands above your head while he settled his hips against yours. He couldn't help himself from starting to rut against you -- you were so warm, your pussy practically begging him to fuck you.

"Ooh," you moaned out against your better wishes, his covered cock giving you just enough friction in your panties to set you ablaze. You could feel yourself dripping into them, begging, waiting for him.

"You really want me tonight, huh?" he asked hungrily, knowing the answer.

"Y-yes, Stevie," you whined, letting go of his hands to let your nails graze down his back, feeling the length of him trapped in his boxers press against you.

"Oh-ho-ho, whose needy now, hm?" he teases in your ear, grinding mercilessly against you, his chest pressed up against yours while he keeps you pinned the the mattress.

"So quick with that tongue earlier, what happened?" he smirks, getting right in your face, brushing his nose against yours. You roll your hips against his, your thighs sliding against his hips as another mewl escapes you at the friction.

"Oh, I see. You wanna be good for daddy now, don't you?"

"Steven," your eyes pop open, your mouth gapes with a smile, "You can't just say stuff like that."

He laughs into a kiss on your neck, "C'mon, I think you liked it."

"I don't really think you're the 'daddy', type," you say, your voice taunting.

"No?" he asks his voice is calm, but his eyes are challenging you.

"No, you're too nice," you smirk while he comes up to kiss your mouth, "You've never won a fight in your life. And you're what, almost 30? Who're you bossin' around?"

He watches you raise a brow when you say it, your lower lip tucking slowly between your teeth in a grin -- god he loves when you do that.

"Lot of secretaries to go through in the office, mmm," he hums when your lips graze his neck, your tongue striping up to his jaw, "Learned a couple things."

"You think I can't boss you around?" he asks, pressing up off of you and leaning onto one of his forearms.

"I know you can't boss me around," you say, your brows quirking while you push at his chest to get on top of him like you always do. Already soaking at the thought of him whining for you to fuck him, to cum all over him, grabbing at your thighs, hips, and ass desperately. His heaving breaths after finishing, resting his head on your stomach while you stroked his hair, feeling his lips press against your soft, pudgy, belly to let you know he's ready for the next round.

He caught your wrist as you pushed and pressed it back down into the mattress.

"Oh c'mon Stevie, I love hearing you beg for me," you tease before he presses his mouth against yours, noses squishing together. Over the years, Steve craved closeness from you -- pulling you flush against his chest when you were on top, wrapping his arms around your back. Clutching you, fingertips sinking into your cloud-soft flesh while you moaned into his ear.

"Think you can beg for me for a change," he mutters, pulling away as you reach to kiss him again. A little whine pulls from your throat and he purrs at the sound. Right where he wants you.

He gets on his knees between your legs and looks down at you, eyes roaming the expanse of your body -- your broad shoulders, soft skin, delicate curves and indents. His personal Aphrodite -- flesh turned fine art. All the Rennaissance paintings in the world couldn't do you justice. He stuttered the first time he saw you naked, overwhelmed by you and how not shy you were for him to see you. Steve let's a finger trail along the lining of your silk panties at your thigh, you shiver at his soft touch.

"Take these off," he says, but it comes out as a demand.

"So mean," you tease, tugging at the elastic and lifting your hips up to push them over your butt and thighs. He shrugs off your jest, grabbing your underwear when they get too far down for you to reach and throwing them on the floor. He's rough when he flips you over to your stomach, the flesh of your ass bouncing with the movement and he salivates immediately.

"I'll show you mean," he says, it's more playful than menacing. He brings a hand down hard on your soft body, ass reverberating with the action and you gasp -- tensing all around.

"Ow -- Steve!" you cry out, trying to catch your breath.

“Oh, shit,” he smooths over the pink handprint blooming on your skin, “I’m sorry.”

"It's okay, it's fine, just -- I don't know, warn a girl," you laugh. His hand drags over the curve of your ass to your thigh.

"Did you like that?" he asked, his voice dropped to his lower register and you inadvertently press your thighs together. Your face drops into your arms on the mattress, blushing.

"Is that a yes?" he asks, fingers snaking to your inner thigh and your hips roll slowly at the feeling. He hums when he sees you nod into your forearms.

"On your knees, baby," he suggests, tapping your thigh. You adjust onto your knees, forearms still on the mattress in a perfect deep arch. He sits back at first, taking a moment to marvel at your ass in the air -- committing it to memory. He keeps his hand on your inner thigh, massaging gently while you settle into position.

"Open up a little more for me," he's gentle, pushing at your flesh so you open up wider. You adjust and he grins, sliding his boxers off -- you whimper when he does.

"You okay?" his voice laces with acute concern, it wasn't a sexy whine or cry like you usually do. He stands up so he can soothe you from the side of the bed, his hand smoothing over your back.

"I thought you were gonna -- I didn't know we were immediately gonna fuck," you say, leaning your face to the side to look at him.

"Oh no - I wasn't just gonna - when have I ever just gone in and fucked you?" he laughs, "I just wanna jerk off while you sit on my face, is that okay?"

"So much for me begging for you," you smirk, "Sitting on your face, just like old times."

He huffs a breath through his nose looking down at you, his face unimpressed. He leans forward, face inches away from yours, "Who was just whining over the idea that I might not eat her pussy tonight?"

You burn at his words and he notices, "Was it you?"

You nod with an embarrassed smile, "If you're a good girl, I'll let you be the boss next time. I'll teach you a few things, yeah?"

"Steeeeve," you whine while your skin is in flames, "You can't say that."

He gets on the bed behind you, one hand on the bend of your hip, the other with his fingers sliding against your open folds -- finding slicknes without surprise.

"Can't say what?" he asks with a smile, "Can't call you my good girl?"

Your hips push back on his fingers when he says it and you scold yourself at your body's betrayal. You hear him tutt behind you and you clench around nothing at the sound, "Sure feels like I can."

He slides under you like a well versed mechanic, arms and hands immediately wrapping around your thighs, stifiling their nervous jiggle. He guides you down to his mouth, your posture changing while you sit further up and back so you can see his eyes and he can see all of you. Your hips wiggle as you feel his breath on your opening.

"Are you excited?" he asks, you nod and he can't hold out anymore at the sight of your smile. You feel his tongue drag, poking between your folds once you relaxed -- his fingers reaching to keep you spread open to start.

Your smile transforms to a pornographic gasp, head immediately thrown back as his tongue stripes you again. Your hips rock against his mouth, Steve smirks to himself into the next lick, flicking over your clit and a peal of mewls escape your lips.

He feels at home here, your full, thick thighs keeping his ears warm in the December weather. This big cold house suddenly feeling full with your voice moaning his name. He didn't need the whiskey if you were offering to quench his thirst like this.

You feel his tongue lap at your opening, the thick, wet, muscle pushing in past your walls trying to desperate to out maneuver him. His face was coated in your juices, dripping freely own onto his chin and cheeks while he fucked you with his tongue. He watched as your hand reached down to tease your clit, he caught it in his, pushing it up to your breasts.

"Play with your tits f'me baby, let me watch," he says, scooting up a bit.

"But Steve I --" you huff, desperate for some extra stimulation.

"I'm getting there, if you'd just be patient for like, twenty seconds," his voice sounds like he's back at the bar, admonishing you like you're rushing him to get out of the bathroom.

"You're ruining the mood," you cross your arms over your chest, pouting.

"Aww, I'm ruining the mood?" he mocks, a fake frown matching yours. He slides a finger slowly past your tight walls and you falter a little but hold to your convictions. He holds eye contact with you through his glasses, pushing a second finger in to meet the first.

Your mouth gapes, eyes pricking with tears as your walls close down hard on him, "Am I still ruining the mood, baby?"

A silent cry rattles your chest, falling quietly out of your open mouth. Your eyes close tight while he snickers, pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm, "It's all better now, isn't it?"

His voice makes you dizzy, he used to talk to you like this when you first started fucking. Cocky and confident -- certain he was making you feel good, and fuck he was. What did he ask you to do before? Your brain was racking for the command, but too overwhelmed with pleasure when he hooked his fingers to find your g-spot.

"Stevie -- oh fuck, fuck, please more," you whine out, you sound pathetic but you can't even find your self to care. It feels like a roller coaster reaching it's peak with every curve of his fingers teasing your spongey center. 'Play with your tits f'me baby, let me watch.' There it is, that you could do. You palm your breasts, pulling and pinching at your hard nipples looking down at him over your belly pooch. He winks when his tongue finally makes contact with your clit and you shudder instantly. You gush over his fingers, taken by surprised by your own orgasm -- already feeling the second one building.

"That's my good girl," he purrs beneath you, "Stay just like that, okay? I'm not done."

You gulp, feeling his soft kitten licks back on your clit start to ramp up to fast flutters -- Steve didn't want to start you back up slowly. Your breath had barely steadied before it picked back up again, flexing your core to keep yourself hovering above him. Your hand reached down to his hair, tugging while your thighs tensed.

"Ride my face, baby, come on," he encourged, "You've never been nervous to do it before."

"I --," you hesitated, "I didn't with Andy -- it's been a while."

"What?" he asked, surprised, pushing up so his full head peeked out from between your legs, "Are you fucking with me?"

"He...ugh, Steve," you leaned your head back and then turned it back down, mumbling, "He said I was too heavy."

Steve's eyes furrow, mouth open, unsure at first how to respond -- aghast, "This guy sounds like a fucking loser. You're not too heavy -- god -- who says 'no' to that? What's wrong this this guy?"

Steve shakes his head and pushes back down, "Sit on my face, baby. Fuckin' suffocate me."

You don't have a choice, he pulls you down onto him, your knees sliding further apart and you can't help but start grinding your hips against his tongue. The whole act sounds as lewd as it looks, wet and sticky as he captures your slit in his mouth to suck on it. Spreading your ass in his hands to spread you further apart, moaning low into your pussy so you can feel the vibration through your core.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ooh daddy just like that," the words just pour out of you while you start reaching your second peak, hips writhing onto him with your back arched. Steve grips your ass cheek hard before smacking down on it with a loud 'thwap!', satisfaction burning in his stomach -- daddy, daddy, daddy. The same hand reaches for his neglected cock, covered in pre, leaving a patch of cold liquid on his hard, muscled stomach.

Steve feels your hips hump his mouth in quick succession, his nose bumping your clit rapidly. Your moans get shorter and higher with each flick of his tongue against you until they're just huffed breaths.

"Mmm, come on," he nods up at you, "You can do it, angel."

You nod back, face contorted while tears stain your cheeks, the next roll of your hips his mouth makes contact with your clit again. You see stars, you cum so hard you swear you're pissing. You can hear Steve's grunts under you, collecting your slick to add friction to the fist he's fucking behind you.

"Get on your back," he demands, "Need t'fuck you, holy shit."

You get on your back, looking up at him now on his knees, both of your eyes lust blown in the low light. You weren't a stranger to his cock, but every time you saw it you couldn't help but feel spit build in your mouth. It was angry tonight, tip red and leaking, veins pulsing while he stroked himself looking down at you.

"I don't know, Stevie -- it might be -- it's too much," you say, thighs pressing together to protect your sensitive cunt.

"Two is nothing, honey," he shakes his head opening your legs up, crawling over you to line his tip up with your entrance, "You've given me four in less time."

You whine like a child, but you don't stop him when he slides the tip against your entrance, building up the slickness to slide over his cock. When his tip pops in you hiss, back arching to feel another inch push into you.

"Oh, that shut you up, huh?" that voice was back again, Steve was starting to feel so confident, you might as well start calling him Manhattan. He pushes deep into you, all the way to the hilt -- your legs springing up against your chest automatically -- heels hitting his back.

"You feel so good, Stevie," you moan into his mouth while he leans in to kiss you.

"Pussy's fucking made for me," he rasps while his thrusts pick up, forceful and deliberate. Steve loves fucking you because he knows how well you can take it. You were built sturdy, plush, soft -- he loved how it felt to slam into you. He'd heard it on the radio, some cheesy line 'more cushion for the pushin', but fuck if it wasn't true.

Steve knew he wouldn't last long inside you, your pussy tight and wet -- hugging him in place, resisting his exit. He filled you completely, your eyes rolling back the second you felt the hair at the base of his cock tickle your skin over and over again.

"Steve, oh god Steve," you moan through gritted teeth, tears back to rolling down your cheeks as your nails dig into his back, "Just like that daddy, fuck me like that."

His mouth falls open at your words, the girls on his desk never talk like that. He can't fuck them how he wants to, never throws them around. They don't look at him the way you look at him, soft and pretty. They don't wanna wash his hair for him in the shower after, and kiss the freckles on his back. He doesn't wanna make them dinner after, or give them a ride home. He doesn't blush the way he does when it's you that calls him daddy. When you call out his name. When you look up at him with those eyes. When you hold his hand in the car. When you tease him for coming to Porter's early. When you call every time you come home just to see him when you could see anyone else.

Steve's hand finds your jaw but you guide it to your throat while you bounce against his thrusts, he chuckles wickedly, "When'd you turn into such a whore?"

His fingers press down expertly on your neck while you attempt to moan out an answer that he doesn't wanna hear. He just wants to keep watching your fucked out face and body while he drills into you deeper. His voice lilts into a mocking coo, your cunt drools.

"Just for me, isn't it?" he asks down at you through his glasses, and you nod quickly in his hold, "They're not fuckin' you like this in the city, huh?"

"Had to come all the way back to Indiana to get this dick, didn't you? All the way back home so daddy could fuck you just how you like it," he huffs, feeling himself get close.

"Yes, yes -- had t-to come back for you - oh fuck, fuck," you whine out, raspy and nasal from lack of blood flow.

"Who fucks you like I do, hm? Who else is makin' you come like I can?" he eases up on your throat, moving back to your jaw -- leaning in to give you a sloppy tongue kiss into your gasping mouth. You tighten again over him, gushing whatever creamy spend you had left in you, gripping his shoulder tightly while your eyes pinched closed.

When you're nose to nose again you look up at him, "Nobody, Stevie. Just you, it's just you."

He growls at the confirmation, his hips stuttering -- 'Nobody fucks her like I do,' ringing in his head while he feels his vision start to go white.

"Baby, baby," he starts, his voice softening, "God, fuck -- can I come in your mouth?"

You nod and he groans, panting while your wet walls keep his cock warm and tight inside you. Steve slows his thrusts which just makes the feeling more intoxicating, your sticky thighs meshing with his soaked hilt. You whimper and cry with every push into your overstimulated cunt, your legs almost giving out from being pressed against your chest.

"Jesus Christ. Gonna come in your mouth," he whispers into your neck, "Feels -- oh shit -- fuck, it feels so good in your pussy, though."

Steve knows he can't hold back, quickly pulling out of you while you shoot up onto your elbows. He pulls your head forward with one fell swoop of his big hand, your mouth and thrat sucking in his cock in a vice grip. You can feel the warm liquid start shooting into your mouth immediately, but it doesn't stop you from obediently sucking on it. He's peak caveman brain while he watches you, your eyes shining up at him while he holds his weight up on your head -- grunts and snarls coming out of his mouth while he finishes thrusting into your face.

You take your mouth off as he softens and swallow, gingerly sitting up slowly. Your thighs ache, you're exhausted. He sits down onto his calves, both of you panting on the center of the bed.

"Let me -- let me get you some water," he huffs out, sliding off the mattress into the attatched master bathroom. He's only gone for ten seconds, passing a clear glass into your shaking hand. You sip slowly to start before gulping it down.

"You okay?" he asks, leaning over to kiss your forehead, "You're quiet."

You nod, taking a deep breath and letting it out, "That was...insane."

He laughs, it makes you laugh, and he lays down onto the mattress to stare up at you. You look down at him, offering Steve a weak smile before looking back at your empty water cup. You slide off the bed like he did before, putting the glass back on the bathroom counter, peeing, washing your hands, and walking back out.

You let out a tired sigh, reaching for your clothes strewn about by his dresser -- sliding on your panties.

"What're you doin', Manhattan?" he asks, sitting up, "Got somewhere to be?"

"I'm getting dressed, Steve," you explain, putting your bra back on. Steve's chest hollowed, normally you'd have some pillow talk after -- talk it out. He still had to show you the new house decor.

"Hey, stop," his voice is soft as he waves his hand at you, "You don't have to do that."

"I gotta get home, Steve," you assure, "It's getting late."

"You..." he trails off before taking a deep breath, replenishing his confidence, "You could stay. I can drive you back in the morning."

"Steve..." you start, shimmying a little to get your jeans over your hips and thighs, "I never stay. That's not us, that's not what we do."

"It could be..." he suggests, his voice cracking a little, "Please?"

You stand there, in your bra and unbuttoned jeans, your tummy poking out where the zipper is undone. Your bra suddenly feels tight and uncomfortable, your underwear constricting you under the jeans that feel a size too small.

He looks you over, watching you contemplate it and gets up out of bed to meet you by his dresser. His hands reach to each side of your face, warm and big. His fingertips graze the hair at the edge of your scalp, pinkies and ring fingers on the back of your neck. He tilts your head up slightly to look at him and your heart hammers, more than it did the first time he started kissing you in his car. Steve's heart matches your cadence, remembering how nervous he was the first time he talked to you -- desperately wanting you to be impressed by him.

"I --" you start blushing, he's never looked at you quite like this, "I don't have anything to wear to bed."

"I don't want you to wear anything to bed," he says, leaning forward to capture your lips in his while you both step awkwardly as a unit back over to the bed, "It'd just get in the way in the morning."

"Please stay," he pleads again, pressing a gentle peck on your lips, "Please -peck-, please -peck-, please -peck-. "

"Okay, okay," you laugh, "Are you sure?"

"I'm begging you," he smiles, leaning his forehead against yours. The tops of his frames hitting your brow bone. He lets go of your face to make work of the top of your jeans, shoving them back down until they pool at your ankles. He unhooks your bra, a little too expertly, and snaps the band of your satin panties before rolling those down too. He moves down with them so he can skate his hands over your thighs and leave a warm kiss on the flesh over your hip bone -- apologizing to the bruise he left there earlier.

"Can't believe you kept your glasses on," you tease, "Dweeb."

He comes back up, sliding his glasses off smoothly, like he did in the back seat of his BMW five years ago, "I like being able to really see you."

"Am I blurry without them?" you asked, trying to take them out of his hand. He snatches them out of your grasp, hiding them behind his back.

"Not really," he says, walking over to the bedside table and placing them next to the lamp, "You told me they made me look handsome back in - think it was -- '94 maybe? -- So I just wanted to keep them on for insurance."

You look down at the floor, "I always think you look handsome, Harrington."

You feel his hand at the back base of your neck and turn to see him behind you, "Come back to bed." 

He gets under the sheets and both duvets and turns down the covers next to him, slapping the pillow you're going to sleep on to beckon you forward. You want to roll your eyes but you can't force down the giddiness building in your chest -- sleep over!

You maneuver over to your side of the bed, slipping under the covers while he turns them back over you to tuck you in. Fuck are the sheets nice, they had to be some luxury brand you can only order through a catalog.

Steve clicks off his bedside lamp, leaning over you to click off yours and you catch the remnants of his cologne on his skin. It's not long before you feel his hand skate over you under the covers, sliding over your belly, up over every curve and bump on your body before resting a warm hand on the side of your breast. He hums sleepily and pulls you close to him, pressing his chest against your shoulder. His hot breath fans against your neck where he's settled his head.

"Isn't this nice?" he asks. You nod, turning onto your side to face him while his hand splays across your back to pull you closer. You slide a hand under the pillow, and savor the coolness on your hot skin. Steve looks at you with soft eyes, studying you.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks, "Or, well, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course," you say, looking at him, trying to read his expression.

"Remember -- ah fuck, okay I'm doing this," he says, trying to psyche himself up, "Remember when I said I had some options? To make changes?"

"Yeah, I remember. You can't wait when those opportunities come, Harrington," you lecture, "I've fucked myself so many times with that."

"There's a position in the New York office," he blurts out, "In the head quarters that they're eyeing me for."

Your heart races, "Okay."

"And I'd be...I don't know, sort of demoted but I'd get a huge -- like, huge fucking pay raise," he explains, "And I -- I wanna take it."

A beat passes while he tries to figure out what to say.

"And maybe, I don't know -- maybe we could try this out? Like for real? Instead of just fucking around every Christmas."

You consider it, heat blooming in your cheeks -- the good kind. Your heart starts to swell -- not Steve Harrington asking you out when you're twenty-nine. Sixteen year old you would be screaming.

"What do you think?" he asks, he swipes his hand through his hair and even in the dark you know his cheeks are pink.

"I don't think it's a bad idea," you say, "I think it's the excitement you're looking for -- New York I mean, not me."

"I think you're really exciting," he leans in to kiss you with a grin.

"And I think," he presses his lips against yours again, "I'd do a pretty good job at taking care of you, if you let me."

You laugh through your nose, blushing hard while he kisses your cheek, "That sounds nice, doesn't it?"

"It does sound nice, Steve," you agree, but you don't want him to feel too good about it. You had a reputation to uphold, still. He leans back to look at you, thumb caressing your cheek as your lids fall half down your eyes, "I think I'd really like that."

"You wanna shower? You too tired?" his voice his so gentle you start to melt, but exhaustion weighs heavy on you.

"Too tired," you say, nuzzling forward into his neck -- your head now partially on his pillow.

"We can talk about it more in the morning, yeah?" he asks, a hand reaching up to smooth over your hair.

"Yeah," you said, your breath steadying, "I'll see you in the morning."

He knows you don't like eggs for breakfast but it's all he has in the fridge. It's fine. He'll just order in.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x readder #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #dom steve harrington #steve harrington x you smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things au #steve harrington au #steve harrington x thick!reader

[bbrissonn]

being in a long distance relationship with moldy and all he wants is a hug because he's just been feeling homesick recently so you go suprise him and he cries because he's just so relived to have his girl in his arms

long distance relationship trope hold such a special place in my heart-- warnings: couple of swear words, not proofread under the cut !

"i miss you." nick whispered as his eyes stared at the celling of the hotel room he was currently in, his phone resting against the side of his face. The team was currently in a road trip in madison, meaning he was even further from you than he already was in michigan.

you and nick had known each other since you were kid, but were never really friends until your senior year of high school. It was a weird start to your friendship considering nick had spent half the year in your hometown and the other in chicago. eventually, a year later, the boy asked you out when he came back from chicago. You were set to enter your second year of university and nick his first at michigan.

the distance was hard at first, considering the two of had barely even spent time together has a couple before he had to leave. but you made it work, calling each other whenever you could, always texting or sending snaps about your day to the other. you were all nick could talk about in michigan, it was constantly "y/n this, y/n that" and his teammates were growing tired of it.

Luca had been the one to reach out to you, asking if you would be down to come visit in michigan for a while. the two of you had spoken on a couple of occasions back home, followed each other on instagram, but other than knowing he played hockey and his brother was adam, you didn't know much about him. but once you and nick started dating, the two of you eventually started a friendship of your own.

"i miss you too, baby. we'll see each other soon, i promise." you whispered back. nick whined at your words, you had been saying those words for two months now and you two had yet to see each other.

"how soon?"

"i don't know, nicky. i've been really busy with school, but as soon as i can, i'll be driving down. i promise." you lied through your teeth. the truth was, you were heading down to michigan early the next morning, ready to welcome your boyfriend home when the team would fly back in the next morning.

luca had planned the whole thing out. he was gonna force your boyfriend over to his house, where you would be waiting in the living room after luca gave you the location of their spare key. everything was going to be perfect, nick would finally start talking about something other than you, and you'd both get to see each other again. it was a win for everyone.

only the next day when nick followed by a couple of the guys walked into luca's shared home with some of their teammates, the living room was empty. nick was set on just heading back to his dorm and sleeping their sweep off, but luca had forced him to come over, promising him a surprise.

"surprise my ass." nick mumbled as he started at the empty house. luca, along with the guys who were aware of what was supposed to happen, all looked at each other with wide eyes. the fantilli boy hadn't heard from you since you left that morning, but he didn't think much of it, telling himself you were busy driving. but now he was starting to get worried.

"uhm... gimme a minute, dude." the boy said before walking out of the house, calling your number right away.

"hi!" you answered, and right away luca could tell something was wrong.

"what's going on, y/n/n? where are you?"

"there was a slight problem at the border. but it's all good now, i'll be there in like twenty minutes."

"problem at the border?" luca asked, his voice filled with worry.

"it's nothing don't worry. i'm all good, entered the country legally. just a little more broken than before." you mumbled the last part, making luca let out a sigh.

"do i even wanna know?"

"no. listen, i'm almost there, okay? just keep nick busy, please."

"hurry."

"i will, i will!" you said before hanging up the phone and focusing back on the road, nervously biting your lip. when luca walked back into the house, all the guys were sitting on the couches, and their eyes immediately went to the fantilli boy.

"so, there was a slight... technical issue if you will. but, don't worry, your surprise is on the way." the defenseman explained with an awkward smile on his face.

"this better be good, bro." nick mumbled to himself before looking back at the TV screen, a random game playing. twenty minutes later on the dot, a loud knock echoed through the house, making all of the boys groan.

"moldy, you go!" luca urged, knowing it was you since you has just texted him you had arrived. the boy in question let out a groan at his request.

"it's your house, dude."

"it's your surprise so get up and open the damn door." he urged again, making nick roll his eyes. he looked down at his phone one last time, still not texts from you, and then got up with a sigh. nick wasn't sure what to expect when he opened the door, especially considering all the guys who were there were now standing behind him with smirks on their faces and their phones out. but he sure as hell didn't expect to be met with your sweet adorable face.

"hi, baby." you spoke with a wide grin as your eyes opened. nick's jaw dropped to the floor, his eyes lighting up as he briefly looked over at his best friend, who wore a proud smile. nick then waisted no time shoving himself into your arms, his face landing in your neck.

"hi." he whispered breathlessly, tickling your neck slightly making a giggle leave your mouth.

"surprise!"

"what the fuck." the boy gasped with a wide smile as the two of you pulled away, but kept your arms wrapped around the others.

"sorry 'm late. had a little problem at the border." you mumbled, nick pressing a deep kiss to your lips once you were done.

"you're here now, 'ts all that matters, baby."

"nicky, baby, are you cryin'?" you asked, giggling slightly as nick's head once again found it's way to your neck. he nodded slightly against your body as tears fell on your neck.

"'m so glad you're here, love."

#bri writes #nick moldenhauer #nick moldenhauer blurb #nick moldenhauer imagine #nick moldenhauer x reader #nick moldenhauer fluff #umich hockey #umich hockey imagine #umich hockey blurb #umich boys <3

[snowdrop-ivy]

Chasing the Clouds: A Journey Back to The Beef | 1

Summary: Mikey left the restaurant to Carmen, Natalie, and you.

Trope: Second chances

T/W: Cursing, unresolved mental issues, trauma, suic!de, angst, and smut.

Word count: 4695

The sound of the alarm woke Carmy. 4:00AM. He had this dream on how things were a year ago, how he was in a different place being berated by the head chef. The time he always woke up everyday since he decided to move and leave everything behind. He waited for the alarm to finish to listen to the voice very familiar to him. He sat up on his bed and lit a cigarette before heading to sit in front of the window to look at the city lights Chicago has to offer him. There were little sounds he could hear that bothers him. The sound of the train. Kids laughing at the street. And your voice. The message you left him before cutting him off completely for bailing on you. Carmy played it one more time, as close to his ear as it can get.

Hey…

I know you're off and I know you can hear this so I'm just gonna say this one last time.

I miss you.

I miss how we used to be. How we used to be friends. How you and I would stay up and talk about everything. I know things got messed up when you left but I think what you don't know is you also left me. For no fucking reason. And the craziest thing is that I trusted myself you wouldn't do that. That you would not bail on me like your brother did to you but you did. 

But you did… You fucking did it, Carm. And I still miss you. Every fucking day and I wish I can lock our memories in letters and drown myself in ink of you. God, I can fill empty canvases with your paintings because all I fucking see is you. But then I realized that after that, life's too fucking short to dwell on it. So if you want us to stay that way, that's okay. We'll each have the chance to be happy on the things we like and the person we love. And that's what I'm gonna do also. And hey? If you don't want to. That's okay too. I'm moving on, B.

So… This is the last time I'll chase you. Not because I got tired but because chasing you is like chasing the clouds.

I hope you become the best of what you really want. 

Bye, B.

Carm clenched on the phone in his hand as he listened on the voicemail you left 5 years ago. He still gets updates of you from Rich and Sug. But that was it. You really meant what you said. And he blames himself for it. And the hole in the wall on his apartment when you left him that message. He knows what he did but also he, himself, doesn't know why he did it. Why he thought leaving you would be a great fucking idea. 

He got up from his seat and got ready for work. Mikey left the business for him, Sug, and you to take care of. He thought that after Mikey passed away he would get a glimpse of you but nada. He got to the restaurant and stayed in his office. Or what used to be Mikey’s. He took a look at the bills with red stamps that said they’re past due dates and sat down. He got out and took a look at the kitchen, the bar, and the dining area. All of it reminds him of his brother. Of you. Or what he thinks the things you redid. Carm knew that you managed the restaurant before he passed away. Mikey told him that whenever they got a chance to talk. How you convinced Mikey to switch mayos, chairs, and cutlery. The crew came in and Carm decided to close the restaurant for the day to clean it. Every fucking inch of it, they cleaned, wiped, moped, washed dishes. Carm was hanging the penalty they got from the CBH since the restaurant does not comply with the sanitary standards. He heard a knock on the window and saw Uncle Jim. They sat by the window. Unc asked him how the restaurant’s been.

“And then you know, the produce bill is due, you know,” Carm answered pointing at the window. “And the power comes in and I can’t build enough of a parachute. Even if we got this place packed, that’s only like a week of survival cash.”

Unc sighed. “Exhausting listening to this.”

Carm knitted his brows, confused. “You ask me what’s goin on.”

“No,” Unc waved his finger. “I asked you where you’ve been.”

Carm tilted his head to the back. “You’re looking at it. This is where I’ve been,” He sighed and leaned on the chair.

“Carm, this place is bullshit,” Unc told him. “Right? I mean, you’re never gonna fix it. You can’t start at fucked. You understand that, right?”

He sarcastically chuckled. “Then why’d he leave it to me? Or Natalie? Or even your daughter for God’s sake.”

Unc sighed and looked at the window. “She’s doing good, by the way.”

“Who?” He asked like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Don’t fuck with me. You know who?” 

They looked at each other before chuckling.

“She’s got a job in San Francisco as a head nurse but she still got her photography gig as a hobby. You should see her photos, Carm,” Unc amusingly said with sparks in his eyes and wide smile.

“Yeah?” He answered. “You must be proud then?”

“Of course,” He laughed. “She’s making me proud since the day she was born”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto au #carmen berzatto imagines #the bear fx #the bear

[scarletwinterxx]

loving you is easy - mark lee imagine

hiiiii, 127 cb i have been summoned😅 for the past few weeks i've been inactive on all socmeds, sorry for the very few and slow posts. anyways, let's talk Fact Check haha what's your fave track? i think mine's Parade. the vocals in that one is soooo good.

So yeah i hope you like this one, i'll be back when I can💛🌻

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2023 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"It's one plane ride away, I'll be there in 3 months"

"That's 3 months too long" he grumbles, still pouting as he zips the last of his luggage. Mark hated being away for you, too many days and nights your time zone's don't line up. By the time it's morning for you, he'll be saying goodnight.

But now, things are about to change. This will be the last time you're saying goodbye to him for a long time but he doesn't know that. For now it's your little secret.

"It'll fly by fast, just like every other time. Now come here and give me cuddles, stop pouting like a kid" you tease him, opening your arms to welcome him.

Feeling his arms go around you, you further confirmed a fact you've known for years. The two of you can be continents away from each other, but your heart will always stay with one another. Mark really has become your home and in his arms are where you feel the safest and most loved.

"If you're sad then it's gonna make me sad, I don't want the last night to be all tears" you tell him, feeling his embrace tighten against you. He kisses the top of your head a few times before letting you go.

"You're right, sorry. No more sulking, it's just 3 months then you'll come to me" he smiles at you, the cute little dimple you love so much appearing on his cheek. You stand on your tiptoe to kiss it, savoring the warmth of him against your lips.

And you were right, the 3 months did fly by fast. Mainly because you were busy packing your apartment to move to another continent. You didn't keep much apart from your stuff and some of Mark's. It's kind of hard to travel with everything so you got rid of what you can.

The only person who knew you were coming was Johnny, who is currently waiting for you at the airport. Easily spotting the 6 foot Chicago guy from a distance.

"There she is! About time you got here, I don't think I can take another day of Mark whining about how much he misses you" he jokes, giving you a quick hug and taking your stuff to carry it himself.

"He doesn't know I'm coming, I'm suppose to fly out this weekend" you tell him while following behind

"Oh believe me I know, he won't let us forget"

You chuckle at his story, just thinking about surprising Mark makes you grin.

He dropped you off at Mark's apartment, you're familiar with the place since you've stayed here every time you fly over. What he doesn't know is you're here to stay with him for good.

It did took a lot of courage to make this decision but you didn't doubt it for a second. You know there's no other place you'd rather call home than where he is.

For a couple of hours you rested, cleaned the few dishes on the sink and picked up the towel he threw on the floor. A habit you knew he had, you've had that talk with him more than a few times and he always promises he won't do it again. You let him off the hook, for now.

You were in the bedroom when you hear someone by the door. Mark entered his place, tired from the whole day of work to notice the other pair of shoes by the door.

He threw his bag by the couch, along with his coat. He then walked to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, resting against the counter while he drinks and take a moment to look around.

This time he notices the dishes he was suppose to do this morning was gone. He brushed it off thinking he must've just forgotten he already did it. He then walked to the bedroom, the first thing he noticed was the towel that he definitely threw by the bed this morning. He remembers it because he's been thinking about it all day and how you'll be mad if you found out he threw it on the floor yet again.

He looks around, checking to see anything missing or different just in case someone broke in. But who would clean up if they're here to steal, he thoughts.

Mark then walks towards the bathroom to check, nothing there too so he walks back the bedroom. Just when he was about to go outside, you jumped out of your hiding spot to surprise him

"SURPRISE!"

"WHAT THE F- OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE" you didn't even get the chance to walk towards him because he's already running to you. Picking you up in an embrace.

"Is this for real or am I dreaming?" you hear him mumble

You giggle, patting him on the back so he could put you down. "This is real silly. I'm really here" you tell him.

He grabs you by the face and kisses you. As his lips lands on yours, he knew this was really real. You're actually here with him.

You can feel him smile against your lips, tilting your head to the side to kiss him deeper. Too many days wish he was with you, now he's here and you're not going to let go that easily.

He walks backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed. Landing on it gently with you still in his arms. You straddle his legs while the two of you get lost in each others kisses.

"Okay okay wait a sec" you giggle, pushing your lover away gently. Mark follows your lips though, kissing you a few more times before he lets you go but not too far.

"When did you get here?" he asks you

"Today, Johnny picked me up at the airport so I could surprise you" you tell him, your hands intertwine around his shoulders.

"I could've come and pick you up" he pouts.

Oh your sweet sweet boy.

You smile at him, rubbing your nose against his. Feeling like you're on cloud nine now that you're back together.

"Then it wouldn't be a surprise" you tell him, speaking of surprise you can't wait to see his reaction once you tell him your news.

"How long are you staying? I can take a few days off so we can go out" he tells you excitedly.

For you he would do just about anything. He can put his world on pause, stop everything for you.

"About that..."

"What? You can't stay that long?" he asks, already feeling sad but he tries not to let you see it.

"Actually, I'm not gonna go back" you tell him, not sure how to break the news to him either

"Huh?"

"Surprise number 2 I guess, I wanted to tell you for months now but I waited until everything is settled. So yeah. I'm here to stay, that is if you're looking for a roommate?" you ask

Mark didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, your words still processing in his mind.

"You mean you're staying here, with me ? Here? and you're not going to fly back? You're staying with me?"

You can't help but laugh lightly at him, pulling him closer once again to kiss him

"I'm gonna stay right here" you whisper, looking straight into his eyes.

"But what about your work? your friends? I can't ask you to leave your life there"

"Baby you're not asking me, I want to. I have friends here too, I can call my friends there and we can visit them. Plus you're my bestfriend. As for work, it just so happened they were looking for someone to relocate here to Korea. It was like fate wanted me to be here"

"Are you sure? I don't want you to give up everything, I don't mind the flights-"

"You do, I do. We both do. We just never said it outloud because we didn't want to be sad, but all I can think of when you're not around is how much I want to be with you. To be honest it's harder for me to be there than moving here where I know I could be with you"

He looks at you, trying to find the words to say

"Are you really really sure?" he asks again

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't. So you're stuck with me, for good" you tease a smile out of him

"It's hard for me too. It's the hardest when I'm so tired and I come back here and all I can think of is how much I want to come home to you. Every flight away from you was never easy"

"I know"

"So I guess this is your anniversary present?" he jokingly asks, you get off of his lap to stand up.

"It'll be hard to top this one" you joke

"I can just ask you to marry me" he says ever so casually, not missing how your cheeks reddened. You hit him lightly making your boyfriend laugh

"Hey, that's not fair"

"You're the one who's stuck me, you know I'm never letting you go now?"

"Good, cause I'm not going anywhere. Here's to 7 more years"

He smile at you before standing up to hug you again,

As you stare at each other eyes you can't help but feel this warm sensation in your chest. You really are home.

"I read somewhere that our cells change every 7 years or so" you mumble, he hums waiting for you to continue

"It's been 7 years since we first met, and until now I still feel the same way about you. I want every cell in my body to know what it feels like to love you, I want it to never forget how warm and lovely it feels it be in love with you. 7 years from now, 14 years and until the last cycle of this life, I want all of me to love all of you"

He stares at you, soaking each word coming out of your lips like a spell enchanting him. Making him fall even deeper in love with you.

"You know they say love isn't easy, but loving you is easy. It's like it's the only thing my heart and soul was made for. Every thought in my head, awake or even in my dreams, is always you" he tells you.

You can feel the tears starting to build up from too much happiness you're feeling right now.

"Wanna hear something crazy?" you mumble

"Do tell" he chuckles

"If you ask me to marry you right now, I'd say yes"

He smiles at you before closing the distance once again, like he just sealed a promise. Speaking a silent vow to make that come true, maybe tonight or tomorrow or 7 days/months from now. All he knows is he will live this life with you.

#story #tags #fic #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct mark #nct imagine #nct fluff #nct boyfriend #nct scenario #nct oneshot #nct fic #nct au #nct recommended #mark lee #mark lee imagine #mark lee scenario #mark lee oneshot #mark lee fluff #mark lee boyfriend #mark lee au

[writer-in-theory]

TW: mentioned past homophobia (steve's dad), steve uses the q slur to refer to himself once (quoting his dad), this is a happy ending i promise y'all

When Steve sent the invitations, he never expected his parents to actually attend. He never expected them to actually see the envelopes, even. It had been a fleeting moment of impulsivity that had led to him sending them at all, figuring it would be better to get the hurt out of the way before the ceremony came and passed without either of the people who gave him life in attendance.

And yet, when the wedding ceremony was over and the party was starting, he saw her.

His mom.

She wasn't sitting in the front row of chairs where the rest of their family was. Eddie had tried to convince Steve not to leave two chairs open beside Wayne for his parents, but he needed to see it for himself. Those empty chairs needed to be front and center, a reminder that the only people worth caring about were the ones filling their assigned chairs. Steve's mom wasn't sitting in hers, but she was there, stood in the very back where Hopper was keeping watch over the whole thing, daring anyone who disagreed with the scene to get anywhere near them.

Maggie Harrington wasn't dressed as prim and proper as she could've been, the only way Steve had ever seen her. No, today she was in a simple sundress, hair flying wildly around her shoulders in a way that reminded him with painful clarity of where he'd gotten his appearance from. The same brunette waves, the same doe eyes now staring at him like she'd never seen anything so wonderful and terrible before.

Even as everyone got up from their chairs to convert the outdoor space into the after-party, she stayed at the edge of everything, exactly as she'd been on the fray of his life since he'd left Hawkins at 19 and never looked back.

"Go talk to her," Eddie spoke, notching his chin over Steve's shoulder from behind, wrapping his arms around his middle and interlocking his fingers over Steve's belly.

"I don't know what to say." Visions of the night he'd left flashed unbidden in Steve's mind—all the shouting from his dad, the crying from his mom, him begging his mom to say something, anything. Eddie picking him up from Robin's house after he'd called, promising they could go anywhere they wanted. They'd left for Chicago the same night, and Steve had never looked back.

"Hi is a good start," Eddie teased gently, pressing a kiss to Steve's jaw before stepping back from him. "You can do it. I'll be over with Gareth and the others when you're done."

It was Eddie's quiet support—his husband's support—that pushes Steve's feet to action. Before he could begin to think of what to say, he was standing in front of her. There was too much to say, nothing at all that could rise to his lips, so he said the first thing his mind could supply.

"You didn't RSVP."

His mom winced, hands raising then stopping, fingers clenching as though she physically stopped herself from touching him. "I know, Steven, I know. I'm sorry."

This was too much. It was all too much and Steve wished he'd never sent the invitation, that he'd just listened to Eddie's fucking advice because he always seemed to know Steve best, better than even himself. "Most people RSVP for events. It's the polite thing to do, proper etiquette and all. You taught me that."

"Steven, please," his mom tried again, voice wobbling enough that some of the anger began to leech out of him. And that, well that made him more angry. What right did she have to show up on the happiest day of his life? To choose now to make him confront everything he'd fought so hard to forget? "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for everything. I want my son back."

"It took you five years to realize you missed me? That's really great, Mom, we should really give you the Mother of the Year award for that one."

"Steven," his mom finally snapped, and again her expression could have mirrored his own, that familiar flash of uncontrollable anger and hurt across her eyes before it was reined back in to a disquieted coolness. "I am trying. I am doing the best thing I can to be the mother you needed back then."

"You think I wasn't trying?" Steve's voice was eerily calm, an even-tone that clashed loudly with the tears beginning to blur his vision. "Do you think I didn't spend my life trying to be the son you wanted so badly? I did everything perfect, exactly what you and Dad expected and it still wasn't enough. It would never be enough, not once you found out what I am, right? The sports were fine, and the friends, and even retaking my SATs so I could go to college, but none of it could ever make up for the queerness could it?"

"Steven, stop it," his mom begged, tears falling down her own face now. They were drawing a crowd in the way his fights used to in school. No one was outright staring, but all of them lingered nearby, ears turned to listen, eyes glancing by every so often to catch the scene. He'd like to think they were waiting for him, waiting to see if they needed to step in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, how could I forget Dad's exact words? It's fine if I don't act on it, if I find some woman I don't love and settle down. It's fine if I become like the two of you, marrying for reputation and making my kids fucking miserable."

That did it for his mom. He could see the moment the switch flipped, when the tears turned into something harder, more focused. "Steven, I did not come here to be berated. I came to apologize, for everything."

And that, well, that was new. Harringtons don't apologize.

"I shouldn't have let your father say all those things, I shouldn't have let you leave. I didn't...you can't understand, but I was scared," she tried, reaching out for his hand and wincing when he took a half-step back to evade her touch. "But losing you, not knowing where you were or if you were happy...that was the worst thing to ever happen to me, Steven."

"Good," Steve forced out through the tears, though he's not sure he believed it. He wasn't sure what he believed. "You should've said something then, not five years later."

"I know, I know that, and that is going to weigh on me for the rest of my life. But Steven, Steve, let me try again, please," his mom begged, and God he wanted to tell her to stop because Harringtons don't beg, they demand, but she kept going and going and it reminded him of himself. "It took me too long but...I got there. I'm here. I'm here, Steve, and I promise I'll try to be the mom you always deserved. I understand we can't get that time back, we can't have what it should've been from the beginning, but please, I want to see my baby's life."

Steve wanted to yell at her. He wanted to scream and throw something and tell her to get out. He wanted to spit every vile word he could come up with at her, to make her hurt the way his dad had made him hurt. And yet, this was everything he'd ever dreamed out, all those nights when he'd cried in Eddie's arms for his parents, for them to see the life he'd built for himself.

"I can't just..." Steve sighed, looking up to the sky as if the clouds might provide him with an answer. "I can't trust you, right away. I need time, Eddie'll need time he...he's pretty protective, you know."

"Good," his mom answered, pulling a small, tearful laugh out of Steve. "You deserve to have someone looking out for you like that."

"Do you..." Steve sighed, fighting the urge to mess with his hair lest Nancy kills him for it. He glanced to Eddie, seeing him with his chin tilted back as he laughed joyously across the space, hand gripped around a champagne glass. "Do you want to meet him?"

The smile that warmed his mother's expression was worth all of it. Steve had never seen her so open, so emotional. Maybe she really had changed, really come to every realization he'd wished she'd made five years ago.

"I'd like that very much."

It would take time. There would be good moments and bad, some where Steve wondered if any of it would work out and some where he'd laughed with his mom more than he ever had as a kid. Slowly, not-so-gracefully, they found a way to make it work. She came over for weekly dinners with him and his husband (who asked more than once if her pull in the Indiana statehouse could get them an official license), she called once a week and asked about his friends, his studies, the kids he worked with at his job.

And before Steve could even blink, he had his mom back.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #mrs harrington #steve x eddie #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington ficlet #listen i'm not over mrs harrington not doing the best but trying her best #is this a projection onto one of my favorite characters MAYBE but thats noones business but mine #tw homophobia #stranger things #jay writes in theory #steddie ficlet #steddie headcanon

[kuromitos]

May the best hero win!

[Dick Grayson x GN!Reader x Jason Todd]

Plot: what happens when two batboys have a crush on the same person? Chaos. Petty Chaos.

Note: more storyline based on my OC that I'm too nervous to share with. The reader has a hero name called 'incognito'

It was supposed to be a regular night. A typical run down of the latest mission in Gotham. But we are talking about the Wayne Family here, or should I say the batfamily, there is nothing 'normal' or 'typical' about them.

Instead of going to collect the Intel from their reliable source, like they are supposed to do, Nightwing(Dick) and Red Hood(Jason) are fighting each other on top of a rooftop. With Red Robin(Tim), the signal(Duke), Spoiler(Steph), and Robin(Damian) watching them from another rooftop and taking bets on who will win the fight. While the black bat(Cass) goes off and completes the mission.

How did we get to these events? Well, things first started earlier in the night. Batman contacted the members of his family to gather inside the Batcave for their briefing before patrol, "we have received Intel earlier in the month that shipment of a new drug is coming to Gotham in the coming week." Batman stated while pulling up the required information on the back computer.

"A new drug?" Nightwing asked, "I ain't heard anything about no new drug." Red hood said with a mad tone, his regular tone. "That's because it's technically not new." Red Robin pulled up articles and reports from his wrist computer to the bat computer for everyone to see. "It's originally a chemical used in medicine but somebody decided to use it as a base for a new drug. There have been huge reports of it in Chicago, Detroit, and Baltimore. Recently, there's been rumors of it spreading to Gotham and now it's have been confirmed."

"The problem now is we don't know where the shipments is being dropped off." Batman said, changing the info on the screen to a photo of three men. "That has only been shared privately with these men only. But we have a double agent that was able to get the location for us and going to give it to us at the usual location on top of the Lincoln bank building. " He concluded his small speech with his back to the group because he doesn't want to see their faces of annoyance from them.

"The agent is . . . . Incognito. " "UUGGGGHHHH!"

Now hearing those groans you would think that they hate or can't stand the person called 'incognito'. Quite the contrary, they love them and consider them as an extended family member. What actually causes those groans were the two guys that like incognito some much more than everyone else. So much they turned it into a petty competition.

"I'll go" "I'll go"

They both turned toward each other when hearing each other voices and glare at each other. Those glares were signs to everyone around them that this was going to all night. Especially when Duke uttered the words "not this again."

"Don't you have to be bludhaven right now? Dick. " "Don't worry about that, Jay. I settled things before coming over. What about you, huh? Shouldn't you be covering crime alley or hanging out with the outlaws?" Dick smirks at his brother's poor attempt at jabs. "Just got done with a mission, dick head. " "Then you must be tired. I'll do this little info collecting-" Jason interrupted dick with a finger shoved in his face. " Don't give me that crap. You talked to them last time. Im going this time!" " Come on Jason. I'm just looking out for you. You don't think straight when you're around them." "Better than you. At least I think with my brain here" He points at his head, "and not the one down here." Jason grabbed his private part in a vulgar manner, which got a reaction out of dick. Pissed off. He was about to retort back but he was stopped by hearing Bruce scream at them both, "Enough! " which grabbed their attention. Jason still grabbing his. . . Little hood.

"Both of you going to the meeting point, then. Whoever gets there first can collect the information. I don't care who does it, just go!" Bruce yelled at them. They both stood there for awhile before Jason run towards his motorcycle screaming 'I'm getting there first!' With Dick on his tail also screaming, 'No you won't. '

~~☆~~

That's how we got to where we started. They raced thru the city using their personal own shortcuts until they bump into each other on top of an apartment building. Both felt they won't get their private moment they wanted with the double agent of their dreams, they decided to fight the other. First one down on their back, wins.

At first simple sparring quickly turns into a full-on brawl. Going at each other for at least an hour. Neither holding back on the other. While throw petty insults at each other too.

"Dickhead"

"Blowhard"

"Man slut"

"Zombie"

They took so long on this fight the other kids stop their patrol to watch and place bets. Jason was getting the winning votes.

It looks like the fight could go on forever since neither one looks like stopping anytime soon but a certain stop them in their tracks.

"Got it." They both turns towards the voice to see black bat with a piece of paper in her hand. "Got what exactly? " Dick asked with his hand on Jason's jacket, tight in his fist. "The location. It's the docks." She jump away from the two and probably back to the big bat. Everyone else follows her, forgetting the other two men.

Hearing they lose their chance, they let each other go and awkwardly stand beside each other. Their stupid fight got in the way. They missed the person who stole their affection. All because of their petty fighting. Hopefully this would be a lesson for them both to stop this -

"First one back, can meet them on the next meet up"

"You're on. Don't blame me when you lose. "

*sigh* nevermind. They're hopeless

Sorry if they are ooc here. I hope to improve my skills soon.

I'm also might do a part two if you guys like it enough.

That's all I got. Bye for now ( ≧∀≦)ノ

#batman #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason tood #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader

[themultifandomgal]

Connor Rhodes- Nightmare

"YN come on we're gonna be late" April jumps off my bed as I'm just finishing up my lipstick

"Ok. I'm done" I put down my lipstick and check my phone "we're not late anyway we've got another 10 minutes before we need to leave"

"Yes but knowing you it's going to take 20 to get you to chose your shoes

"Hey I'm not that bad" I laugh grabbing my purse from my bed and go to my shoe rack by the front door. I quickly chose what I'm wearing and we leave my apartment to my car.

We're halfway to the restaurant where we're meant to be meeting our boyfriends Connor and Ethan, when the car suddenly stops in the middle of nowhere. I get out of my car and groan

"I'll call Connor" I say getting out my phone about to ring my boyfriend. I then see I have no signal "April have you got signal?"

"No. Damn it" I know a little about cars thanks to growing up alongside Kelly so I go to have a look. I put up the hood of the car when I hear April scream

"April?" I run over to her on the floor covered in blood. My hands immediately go to put pressure on her wound

"Run" she whispers

"What? Why would I..." I'm cut off by someone grabbing me from behind. I start to scream

"Shhh baby it's ok. It's just me" I hear my ex Jack say.

2 years ago I broke up with Jack thanks to the help of Chicago Pd. Turns out he was a drug dealer, but he was making weird concoctions that were killing people, mainly teenagers. Jack recently escaped prison and I've been under protection since PD think he's going to come after me

"How did you get out?" I ask terrified

"I'll always get you back baby" he says in my ear which makes me shiver. April on shaking legs stands up "let me just deal with this one" he points at April

"No please leave her" Jack throws me on the floor "April run" I scream and she legs it Jack runs after her and catches up. He stabs her the stomach multiple times

"APRIL NO" I scream then cry

"Tut tut. That was a very bad idea" I get up and run, Jack running after me. I hide in a bush "come out come out wherever you are" I manage to get signal and start to type on my phone to send a text but Connor starts ringing me "there you are" I scream as he stabs me, I'm lying on the floor in and out of consciousnesses when I can hear someone telling me to wake up....

"Babe, baby" I open my eyes, my chest is tight "baby look at me. Your ok. It's me. No one is going to get you. I'm right here" Connor pulls me into his arms even tighter, if that was possible. He places kisses on my head waiting for me to calm down "was it the same dream?" I nod my head. Once my breathing steadies Connor asks "do you want to talk about it?"

"He hurt April this time. I watched him stab her"

"April is ok I promise. He won't hurt anyone"

"But what if he does? What if he finds the people I care about and hurts them?"

"He doesn't know who your friends are they're going to be ok"

"But what if..."

"Enough what ifs. Your safe. We're all safe I promise" Connor places another kiss on my head "Voight will find Jack and he will be locked up for the rest of his life"

"But he escaped once whats to say he won't again?"

"Voight won't let it happen. Try and get some more sleep"

"Ok" I sigh closing my eyes listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat and focusing on the feeling of him stroking my hair.

Thankfully I manage to go to sleep and this time I don't have any nightmares. Hopefully Jack will be caught soon so I can calm the hell down and stop having nightmares.

#connor rhodes #connor rhodes imagine #connor rhodes x y/n #connor rhodes x you #connor rhodes x reader #Connor Rhodes x yn #one chicago #one chicago imagine #chicago med

[socialist-microwave-laser]

i feel torn. people are telling me i cannot support indigenous people, because i don't agree with accounts like blm chicago over on instagram lying, saying the only israeli hostages are soldiers. because i don't feel okay right now marching alongside people chanting 'gas the jews' and holding up swastikas. i feel gaslit as a jew.

is it true that i can't support indigenous folks while being terrified and mourning for the jewish lives lost? how can we share the powerful art of indigenous americans attacking their colonizers and still hold fear for israeli civilians in our hearts? can both be true at once or am i a hypocrite?

i can't pretend to have all the answers for you nonny, i wish i could. i'll walk you through my thought process from a jewish anarchist standpoint, and hopefully that may help you as well. i definitely got a bit rambly and my response is really long, but i think it's all important so i'm just putting it below a cut!

important note about the ashkenazic slant of my response! [link]

1. indigeneity is much less cut and dry when it comes to eretz israel than it does for, say, america, and it's already complicated enough in america

some people say jews are indigenous to eretz israel, some people say most jews are now colonizers in that land. i think this speaks both to the complicatedness of indigeneity and also the struggle of being a jew. determining who is and isn't indigenous in usamerican territories generally boils down to blood quantum under the eye of the state government ("nation on no map" by wc anderson goes into the issues with this approach very well), when it may be better described as a cultural inheritance. in terms of the history of jews. the european colonizations of basically the entire world is very, very recent. (the second temple fell in 70CE, whereas colón only made first contact with the taíno in october of 1492, coincidentally the year spain began its expulsion of jews from the iberian peninsula. this is especially relevant bc many jews began to flee to "The New World™️" trying to escape constant persecution in europe. there are some writings out of jerusalem from this year describing the diversity of people living there, as well as the oppression of jews by muslims at this time.) if you asked me, i think it's too simplistic to call jews either indigenous to eretz israel or colonizers. jews have been on the move and in diaspora since 70CE, a date that is before even the construction of la pirámide de la luna in teotihuacán (more accurately it'd be at least since the fall of the first temple in 500BCE but w/e). the long and the short of it is that jews left jerusalem before the height of teotihuacán, one of the first states in all of mesoamerica. how far back does this definition of indigeneity go? that's not for any one of us to really ask

(i think there's also an issue of white-presenting/-identifying/-whatever jews and specifically ashkenazim claiming this indigenous label that feels very. idk. it's iffy at best to me)

i think the main takeaway i have for this point is that the binary of colonizer/colonized is a lot more difficult than we'd like to think (for an example that hits closer to home, we can talk about african americans' presence in colonized lands, or natives' ownership of slaves in turn. this isn't "whataboutism," it's me illustrating that binaries hinder in-depth understanding of these categories. this discussion could take up books and is not the focus of this post, but please know this is a topic that is very serious and very very nuanced)

2. anarchism and decolonialism is a process, not a destination, and if anybody tells you they know the perfect say to do either of these processes, run the other way

i've see a lot of people in the past few days gesture to the actions of hamas and say "this is what decolonization looks like," and "nobody ever said decolonization will be pretty." this intersects with my fourth point, so i'll leave it at this: decolonizing eretz israel does not necessitate denying the holocaust, calling for the slaughter of every jew "from the river to the sea" (i recommend y'all look into the history of this term), or threatening to spread videos of the torture and murder of jewish civilian hostages throughout social media. this is when i point to the fact that the area that was attacked a few days ago was actually where a lot of leftists lived. also, that the jewish and/or israeli people have been very outspoken about the many atrocities both domestic and foreign by the israeli government for decades. i would say an alternative to what is happening now may have been to work with those protestors (many of whom have been very vocal about the mistreatment of palestinians bc obviously) or like anything that doesn't include holocaust denialism and the rape, torture, murder, defilement, whatever of civilians and children

3. judaism and anarchism teach us to make our homes in the uncomfortable

i'm comforted by knowing that not knowing the correct solution to things means we're on the right track. it encourages us to collaborate, debate, listen, do research, keep our minds open, learn, whatever. i mean when has a jew ever been like "i have the one answer to this complicated problem" and everybody else was like "yeah sweet okay that's solved?" at least in my studies, i've noted that the jewish tradition includes embracing the discomfort of two things being true at once, or nothing quite feeling like the one right answer. this is also an anarchist tradition (at least in the circles i run in). generally, anarchists have the policy of "if someone says they have the one correct solution, run the opposite direction."

basically what i'm saying is, asking these questions doesn't mean you're a bad jew or a bad activist. we all know why pesach is different than all other nights, yet we ask that question every year, and every year we have a discussion that bears new fruit. (the book that really opened my eyes to the homeyness of the uncomfortable is "brilliant imperfection: grappling with cure" by eli clare)

4. our political motivation must be out of love for each other, not hatred of Them™️

this is the most important takeaway from everything, in my opinion, and also my biggest gripe with the loudest leftists online. this is also something i've written many papers about, but i'll try to keep it brief.

if your idea of revolution is based on simply rooting out those you hate, not only will it be horribly unsustainable but your success will hinge on destroying your own motivating force. if you succeed, the people you hate will no longer be present, and you'll have to either pick a new motivating force or pick a new group of people to hate. to use the ussr as an example (bc the notes on this post are already gonna be nuclear-toxic, so what the hell), the ussr spent a LOT of energy after The Revolution™️ policing, surveilling, terrorizing, jailing, and killing its own people. entire generations were never able to trust others because of the constant fear of stepping out of line and being labeled as a threat. in order to keep the momentum of the state afloat, the ussr had to find new people to hate, and that new people had to come out of their own citizenry. it's a common critique of fascism—that their circle of acceptable people will get smaller and smaller until one day it's only one person, and even that one person won't live up to their own ideals.

basically, a revolution built on the hatred of the other rather than the love of the world is a revolution that, in my mind, is not worth having. that doesn't mean revolution must be 100% violence free, lord knows i don't mean that. but having love for humanity allows us to avoid dehumanizing the other (who oftentimes aren't as Other as we think). a lot of landlords are just everyday people who own one property and do genuinely care about their tenants. a lot of cops did genuinely think they were going to make a positive difference. a lot of israelis are just normal, everyday people like you and me (WITHOUT the luxury of being able to just up and move countries). it's worryingly easy to say someone isn't a real activist because they don't vehemently hate Them™️ but honestly to me that's a sign you're on the right track. i am a proud, usamerica-hating anarchist who already has one arrest under their belt, yet here i am still living in the us. and this isn't a contradiction bc dammit i have to live somewhere, and there's nowhere else for me to go even if i did have the money and means to move.

israelis are human beings, just like you and me, and being torn to bits by the atrocities. these people aren't soldiers, they aren't far right politicians, they aren't anything like that. they're human beings, and we can never forget that

#though i do mention a couple books i am not saying those are the only books to read about this. for one i don't include a book on indigenou #lib. that is at least partially bc i don't want to give off the impression that i'm listing every single book i've ever read #some of this wording is clumsy. please assume good faith as i hope i've demonstrated that i am saying all of this in good faith #anonymous #jumblr #jewish anarchism #medinas israel #israel #am israel chai #palestine #leftist antisemitism #anarchism #decolonization #tsiyyonus definition #sources cited