#but good lordt it's so fucking GOOD

[duckuwu]

me, whilst reading the unbroken & the faithless: oh, touraine, you idiot (fondly).

#halfway through faithless rn. but when i tell you i consumed the unbroken in a day i'm not lying (saturday) #and i forced myself to only spend half a day reading faithless (sunday) which is why it's only half done #but good lordt it's so fucking GOOD #and i ship them so hard dammit #some good shit right here yall #i've been reading a LOT this year (actual books. i actually havent read any fic this year. it's weird) #and yeah. the jasmine throne / oleander sword & the unbroken / the faithless. just fucking another level of exactly what i want #now just give me those third books dammit!! #duck reads #i think that was the tag #to be clear: i totally understand WHY touraine does the things she does. completely justified. but oh darling. #she's perfect actually. you know? in the context of everything. just the perfect way to understand #(but also so is luca in her own way) #my two fuck ups just trying to do their best damnit #gods it's GORGEOUS and ANGSTY in the most beautiful of ways

[histrionicscribbler]

people on this website are notoriously unable to be normal about things they love, but less discussed is the inability to be normal about things they hate and only one of those is a problem imo

#hint: its not love. be so weird about your interests #but maybe be a hater in a more well adjusted way ? #nobodys saying stop being a hater my god be a hater #but please like......... think before you solidify a belief that is undeniably Too Much for the subject matter involved #yall will be wishing death on people who are mid level crummy #calling stuff shit that is ok to average #the black and white thinking goes fucking crazy #remember kids: its ok to be a hater. its not ok to be an asshole #just bc you dont like it doesnt make it bad #just because someone is a bit shit doesnt mean they need to DIE #good lordt #vivziepop #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #helluva boss critical #sure why not. thats what this is abt lol #be fucking normal in the notes or i smite you #peeb post

[sniffanimal]

Happy what a week captain it's Monday Monday

#badger rants #good lordt im so fucking sbrambled

[cyberhai]

Being trans is so fucking STUPID bro how the fuck is my ass getting dysphoric over being in specific fandoms

#so much weird ass trans fetishism in the trigun fandom good lordt #giving specifically stampede a wee break rn #but trimax and 98 i will stick the fuck by #whopee #metal gear and tf2 stay joyous though

[hikeyzz]

i think it's safe to say this week is going in the books as one of if not the most chaotic, upsetting and traumatizing weeks of my life like .. jeebus

#i'm just wishing healing and safety for us all honestly #and for my ex gf to fuck off severely #and for a real good nights sleep tonight bc good lordt i need it #thank god for therapy this week but man oh man is my therapist in for a treat #tbh i might need a second session this week #who knows all i know is i am doing all of this sober and unmedicated and somehow alive so thats a real fucking feat #hikey

[auroradicit]

sorry for the radio silence...moving is All I Do Right Now. hoping to have some more free time by the end of the week.

#OOC tag tbd. #tbd tag tbd. #me: I don't own that much stuff #me moving: wow what the fuck #tbf mostly it's the UNWIELDY stuff #have I bled for this house now? yes don't worry about it #today is the day we're actually renting a truck so ig I'll be sleeping at the new place tonight?? no internet yet tho #also I need to buy blinds bc right now I can't change in my room without the whole complex watching #it's all Good Chaos but Lordt is it exhausting

[crybaby-bkg]

why the fuck do my tags just delete every few months like. I’m so sick of this shit and tumblr’s dumbass glitches all the fucking time

#GOOD LORDT it’s so annoying #like they were all there at like 10pm #now I have to redo them all #is it like a factory reset or something???? #like what the fuck is up with that #so goddamn annoying #—in store chit chat! 🍫

[milkwands]

he would not fucking say that

#i hate 4x13 #its not even just the cheerleader comment hes just immediately using a position of power to bully kids ?!? when has he ever done that #and like you know there are young women watching this show having a character they look up to make predatory comments about teenage girls is #literally so irresponsible and creepu #creepy #kripke dabb loflin i am killing and destroying you #and ngl. i would let it slide if he didnt look so fucking ugly in that outfit #he was JUST saying how horrible he feels that he wasnt able to resist 30 years of torture and felt good releasing it why would you. have him #practice that same behavior as a joke #have u heard of writing an episode centered on one of your leads where the other one is still written well #anyway colin ford did an amazing job♥️ #and dean. shouldnt have been played by someone named brock #lose-chester is kind of funny though and also right #why do they always say they werent buried they were cremated i know the location of the ashed isnt relevant to the plot but the families #dont know theyre in supernatural lol #the dedications … imagine u die and your legacy is supernatural season 4 episode 13 after school special 💀 #finally on sex and violence good lordt. better call thee winchesters

[snekdood]

no amount of patronizing me and patting me on the back “positively” because you think im delusional is going to change the reality. im sorry that your fave is sexually abusive. im also sorry that you’re blind to that bc you’re the same type of dumbass to only believe the most popular person in an abuse scenario.

#bitch if they never met me their art would have never progressed to anything good im sorry. ill say it lmao. #i wish i never let them into my life in any fucking capacity. literally trying to fucking absorb me and silence me. i will keep clawing #until i either claw my way out #or fucking die. #lordt knows this entire situation would be treated entirely different if i was a person of color and they were stealing my art. #also if i was read as the uwu feminine can never do wrong one uwu #theres so much bs this person put me through my ability to resist myself from wanting to stab them is fucking godly at this fuckin point. #dumbass: yeah it would be bc my sympathy only extends to who is read as the most marginalized in a given situation.

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

"Come, sit on my face."

Yall, I don't even need to explain. Toji. New episode. Tongue. You get it. Here ya go.

Content: pussy eating, spanking, slightly mean. Fem!reader. Mdni. Not proofread.

Toji's big, thick hands held the flesh of your ass. Massaging and molding it how he pleased, blowing puffs of hot air against your needy cunt. "Need it real bad, don't ya?" His chest rumbled with a chuckle when you whined, your poor little hips shifting. Trying your damndest to just make him press that stupidly big tongue flat against you. But this is Toji and he'll devour you when he's good and ready. And he loves, absolutely adores, watching you get all needy in his hands. His thick, twitching cock laid heavy in between his thighs. Ignored completely for now. He'd make you take it nicely down your throat later.

Pulling his hand back, he gave your ass a cracking smack. Watching as your skin rippled from the force, a handprint was already forming.

"Gonna make yer ass a pretty shade of red, mama."

His hand landed again, smoothing over the warmed flesh as his nose pressed against your cunt. Flattening his tongue, licking a stripe up your pussy lips. Your juices already cover the surface of his tongue. And he did it again, again, and again. Ignoring your clit completely, listening as you panted. Your pretty nails dig into the meat of his thighs as you try to grind against his face. But to no avail, his strength kept you in place as he languidly licked at your arousal. Slowly and painfully building your orgasm.

"Please," you pleaded. Digging your nails further into his thighs, leaving behind crescent shaped marks.

"Since ya asked so nicely," he wore a shit eating grin as he changed up his plan. Wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you back against him. Holding you still as he completely devoured you. Slurping and low groans were all you could hear in your ringing ears. Your pleasure being built up so quickly it didn't take long for you to cum. Making a mess of his chin, but he didn't stop. His hands played with the fat of your tummy as he moved your hips, making you grind your sensitive pussy against his face.

"Ah-s'too much-cant," you tried to still your hips. Earning a smack to your ass in return.

"Keep those fucking hips moving. Yer gonna cum on my tongue as many times as I say."

A/N: Lordt, I hope yall enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. The mama was self indulgence

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji smut #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x female reader #toji zenin #toji zenin smut

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve... | PART VII

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER VII WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, ruthless banter, mentions of death, injuries, end-of-the-world terror talk, newfound shared codependency (but like it's healthy imo also it's valid lmao) jealousy. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this chapter is honestly a gahdamn MF feast. a favorite of mine NGL, for a multitude of reasons. Murray high key pops the fuck off like the boss bitch he is and takes us on a long lecture of a journey to visit the lordt of truth bombs. Eddie has zero chill. Robin is the bestest-best-fwend and platonic-with-a-capital-p soulmate to our boy. Dustin is a dingus. LUCAS BE SEEIN' THINGS. Hopper is Joppering. Nancy and Jonathan get a clue. Mama Steve and the kids are in full swing. We get a cutie cameo from Harrington's signature yellow sweater.

And our lovebirds finallyyyy......well.....say the magic word that they're feeling hehehe:)

ISSA LONG ONE. PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve knew he would have to face downstairs again at some point before the morning.  Definitely before everyone else went to bed.  But he couldn’t bring himself to.  Not yet.

Because right now, you were fast asleep in his arms.  Laid carefully on your back for the sake of your bad shoulder, with your head turned into his chest.  Steve was propped up on an elbow, facing you with his other hand gliding his fingertips to trace your arm draped across your chest.  He drew shapes up your arm, now adorned with his yellow crewneck, up to your jawline so that he could tuck your hair behind your ear. 

And all the while, he just stared at your chest – comforted by the steady rise and fall.  It kept him sane.  It kept his eyes open.  It kept him from letting the nightmare return.  You slept so peacefully, he might never have known you’d been dead in his arms earlier that day.

“You are beautiful, Steve Harrington.”

Your words from last night ran through his mind on a loop, like a VHS tape on replay.

“I can’t stand you.”

You’d said it in the warmest voice Steve had ever heard in his life.  Somehow, those words meant more to him than I love you.  Because when he said it back, he realized it meant the same thing. 

“I can’t stand you either.” 

I love you too.

Steve carefully placed his forehead against your temple, eyes fluttering shut and breathing you in.  Something danced inside of his stomach.  It ached, it burned and it warned him of all the things he feared feeling the most for anyone except the girl downstairs who had made love seem lost.  He never wanted those feelings to return again for anyone else but her – Nancy.  And yet here he was: every one of those feelings rushed back tenfold, for the girl upstairs in his guest bedroom lying beside him.  The girl who had ruined the chance at a life for him with Nancy Wheeler.  The girl he swore was the reason he was robbed of all things good.  Robbed of love.  True love.

But he no longer loved Nancy Wheeler. 

Steve Harrington loved you.

Downstairs, everyone is quiet but productive. 

Joyce is organizing the last of the stashed supplies.  The kids are eating some bowls of hot soup, served up by Murray.  He had to stay busy and shake off the frayed nerves.   Otherwise, he’d go berserk.  Completely berserk.  Joyce gently helped him but knew better than to baby him.  She was surprised to find Erica walking over, offering to help serve up some glasses of water or sodas for everyone.  To everyone’s surprise, they operated well.  Like chef and sous-chef.  What an unlikely duo.

Hopper and El were talking in the living room about the potential new plan, and Mike moved from the table where he sat with the kids and teens to join them.

Steve could hear them all down there, the ambience muffled on the other side of the closed door separating you both from the rest of the world outside of each other's arms.  He could have fallen asleep right there with you if he let himself.

But a soft knock on the door made him crane his head to look towards the source of the noise.  With one last look at you, he carefully slipped his arm out from underneath you.  You never stirred, the rhythm of your breathing still intact and your mind lost in sleep.

Steve wasn’t sure who to expect on the other side of the door.  But as he ran a hand through his hair, he found himself not caring. 

Turns out, it was Murray.  He stood with two bowls of hot soup, now staring into the eyes of Steve Harrington — who he begrudgingly noted still looked dashing, despite his towel-dried bedhead and tired eyes.

Seriously, no one should make a t-shirt and sweatpants look that good. 

Your uncle cleared his throat.  “Uhh, I made some soup.”

Steve gave him a timid but grateful nod, taking one of the bowls.  Glancing back over his shoulder, Murray followed Harrington’s gaze — back at you, sleeping in bed. 

“She’s still out,” Steve told him. 

Murray nodded.  “I’ll keep hers warm downstairs.”  An awkward silence fell over Murray and Steve, but finally your uncle continued.  “Listen, why not come down?  Let her rest, get yourself some water or — a sandwich maybe, to go with the soup.  Erica says she’ll make them but I'm reallllly not feeling confident about that.”

Steve allowed himself a soft chuckle at that, biting his lip and glancing back at you. 

“She’s alright,” your uncle assured Steve.  “Trust me.  I keep having to remind myself that, too.”

Steve was glad that the two of them could relate on that — endlessly worrying about you.  He was also glad that your uncle wasn’t giving him shit for it, and honestly Murray was extremely pleasant when he wasn’t being an ass.  It took Steve by surprise.  No wonder you two were related.  With a reluctant sigh, Steve agreed to follow Murray downstairs for some more grub.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Steve’s eyes first landed on Nancy sitting with Robin and Joyce.  She looked over at Steve with her big blue eyes, which danced with longing.  Steve’s doe brown eyes didn’t return it, but he lightly smiled in her direction anyway.  Robin immediately perked up, jogging over to Steve from her seated position on the floor.  She grabbed him for a tight hug, and he made sure not to spill his bowl of soup.

“Sorry sorry, I’ve just — been worried sick.”

“S’okay, Robs,” Steve murmured, appreciating the comfort.  She pulled back to look at him, giving him a sad smile.  She wanted to ask him a million questions, but knew it best to save it for later.

“C’mon,” Robin told him, tilting her head towards the kitchen.  “Let’s go grab some crackers or something to go with that soup, which you need to eat.  Don’t even think about not eating, Steve.  I’m serious, okay?”

Steve listened to her keep rambling on as they walked into the kitchen, where Erica and Lucas were bickering about PB&J’s, and Murray stepped in to take back his title as head chef.  Eddie and Jonathan were sitting at the dining table, clearly in deep conversation but ceasing once they noticed them walking in.  Jonathan gave him a pitying look, while Eddie flashed a dopey grin to try and hide whatever serious talk was just going down.

Dustin, Mike and Will all rounded the corner as Steve moved to sit at the bar.  They all sat next to him happily.  YAY, MOM’S HOME.

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair absentmindedly as he sipped on his soup and stared down at his spoon.  Erica was shoving a very haphazard looking sandwich in front of him while Lucas told him he’d spit it out after the first bite, which sent all the kids into a frenzy of bickering, lighthearted insults and witty comebacks.  Steve sighed, content as he ate several mouthfuls of the sandwich while listening to his kids squabble.

Jonathan was shaking his head over in the corner, observing this.  “Guy’s a hero to those kids,” he murmured, only loud enough for Eddie to hear. 

“Babysitter turned full-time mom turned hero,” Eddie smirks, amused.  “Dude’s a legend.”

Jonathan scoffs, amused but also not.  “Wasn’t always...”

Eddie clocks what he means by that.  He knew King Steve, too.  But Eddie can see a twinge of something else in Joanthan’s eyes, surprised to see it.  Jealousy.  It’s subtle.  Not toxic, or even remotely a threat. 

That is, until Jonathan sees Nancy moving to take a sandwich from Erica — her eyes wandering over to Steve and the kids.  She looks enchanted, melancholy.  Is she sad?  Why is she sad?

…why is she sad looking at Steve?

Jonathan’s brow furrows.  Eddie decides he better speak up and interrupt whatever he’s thinking.  Because he sees it too.  Uh oh.

“Trust me, he was a dick.  I know.  Told him so myself.”  Eddie tries to make light of it, grinning.  “But I think sometimes…some folks just need a big thump on the head.  Shit, I did.  I used to run away from alllllll my problems.  Hell, I…I’ve even had my share of making others feel small, just so I can feel big.  Not in a bad way, though.  Never mean.  Just…immature.  Y’know?  Point is, I’ve been there too.  Maybe not as big a dick as Harrington…”  He snorted.  “No pun intended.”

Jonathan whipped his head in Eddie’s direction.  What did that mean?

Eddie quickly tried to cover up his reference to the Hawkins High heartthrob’s manhood.  “I just mean, I just mean — like — we’ve all been dicks.  You know?  Big ones.  Small ones.  Medium…sized…ones.”

He counted at least 5 perplexed blinks from Jonathan.  Eddie sighed, exasperated with himself.  “The point, the point.  We uhh…we live and we learn.  Right?”

Jonathan finally let his tense shoulders loosen up at that, but he glanced back at Nancy – who was still watching Steve as she got herself a glass of water and letting Robin ramble to her.  And Jonathan also watched Steve, who was now telling Dustin to share the box of crackers with everyone and not hog them from everybody. 

It began to click for Jonathan.  The longing stares.  The unusually strained affection between him and Nancy, ever since he got back.  He knew that was partially his fault, if not entirely his fault, given him pulling away from her after moving to California.  But then he got back to Hawkins, and realized the second he saw her that he’d been a fool to think he would ever be better off without her, or convince himself that she could be better off without him.  One look at her made it all go away.  They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and Jonathan was definitely aware of that now.

But had it made Nancy’s heart grow fonder, too?  For Jonathan?

…or had distance made her heart grow fonder for someone else…

Someone else who she had distanced herself from once before, when she found love and comfort in Jonathan Byers’ arms.  Harrington had been away from Nancy when she was around Byers, and then Byers was away from Nancy when the world went to shit again, putting her back around Harrington again.  No Byers in sight.

…was this karma?  Jonathan Byers was beginning to wonder that.  Was this what he got for so confidently whisking Wheeler away from Steve back in high school?  Is this what he got for thinking he was safe?

…maybe that is what Steve meant when screaming at him earlier, as they tried to pump you back to life.

“DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING STOP.”  Jonathan would never forget the way that Steve’s sounded as he spewed at him.  Broken, anguished and betrayed.

“IT’S NOT WORKING,” Jonathan had wept bitterly.  “IT’S TOO LATE.”

When Nancy had chosen Jonathan, Steve never got mad.  He never got mad at either of them.  He told Nancy he got it; that it was okay.  And he never said anything to Byers about it.  Next time they ran into each other, it was just tense silence.  Steve might have picked a fight with Jonathan once before, that damn morning in the alleyway when Will was still missing.  But that was 2 years ago now, and it felt childish compared to everything that had happened since then.  Steve’s anger then was so subdued to what it could have been, and he never explored anger towards Jonathan once he had successfully managed to take his girl.

But the way that Steve Harrington looked at Jonathan now, while you were dead beneath their hands, was fueled by anger.  Red hot and flaming.  He looked ready to finally unleash on Jonathan, ready to blame him for his existence and how it only brought Steve grief.  For once, Steve Harrington looked rightfully angry with Jonathan Byers for being the source of his pain.  Steve looked ready to punch him square in the jaw and beat him up the way he’d had his own face beat up by not just Byers, but also Billy Hargrove and the Russians.

“DON’T SAY THAT.  NO ONE GAVE UP ON YOUR BROTHER, YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST GIVE UP ON US NOW?  THINK ANY OF US WANTED TO STOP WHEN WE THOUGHT IT WAS TOO LATE?  FUCK YOU, BYERS.  FUCK YOU.”

Jonathan deserved it.  He completely deserved it.  All of it.  It had been a long time coming, and while it was over 2 years past due…he took it.  All of it.  Even what was still left unsaid.  Jonathan let Steve verbally rip him to shreds before Eddie took over and brought you back to life with Steve instead of him.

And that’s why now, as Jonathan watched Nancy catch him staring at her — looking caught as she tried to give him a smile — he let it happen.  He just gave her a reluctant smile back, accepting his fate.  Because now, after what he had seen today, he realized that Steve wasn’t even a threat.  Maybe a month or so ago, he would have been.  But that wasn’t the case now, which he only knew after seeing the way that Steve clung to you and sobbed uncontrollably over your lifeless body – then afterwards, when you were alive again. 

Steve no longer pined for Nancy Wheeler.  He pined for you. 

Not for long, though.  Honestly, it was as clear as day that whatever was going on between the two of you was mutual.  The way you held Steve earlier, comforted him — assuring him that it was alright, you were alright — and how you stroked his leg in the living room before he helped you upstairs and disappeared for a couple of hours into your assigned guest room… Jonathan knew, along with Eddie, that Steve Harrington’s heart was in your hands, and yours was his. 

It’s what Jonathan and Eddie had brought up at the table.  Not the whole “why hasn’t Steve unleashed his anger on me until today” aspect of things.  But the fact that you and Steve, who seemingly could not stand each other, now seemed like a pair.  

Nancy moved to sit next to Jonathan, who awkwardly poked at his soup bowl and did his best to fake a smile.  Eddie watched them, knowing.  Man, he could really use one of his guitars right now to pluck out the tension…

Lucas was saying something about Max needing to be checked on upstairs, which made Steve quickly shove the last of his sandwich into his mouth so that he could come help him and Erica along with Will, El and Mike.  They all made their way up, and Dustin stayed behind.  He moved over to the big kids table, bringing the box of crackers over with him.  He plopped down next to Eddie, who was grateful for the comic relief after the tense talk at the table.  Robin moved to bring over fresh cups of coffee, sitting between everyone.

“So uhhh, we gonna talk about it?”

Dustin’s question made everyone freeze. 

Robin cocked an eyebrow, leaning onto her elbows to sip her coffee.  “About what…?”

“About Bauman and Steve, and how we all clearly did not see it coming.”

Robin choked on her coffee.  Nancy stiffened next to Jonathan, which he didn’t miss — considering her hand was resting on his forearm.  Eddie drummed the table awkwardly while nodding and staring straight ahead at absolutely nothing. 

“Yeeeeeee-up, caught me off guard,” Eddie said.  “I’m normally good at picking up on that shit.”

Robin was still working on clearing her throat.  “Look, we don’t know anything yet —”

“He’s literally your best friend, Robin,” Dustin accused with an eye roll.  “If any of us know, you do.”

“Well my strange, tiny friend,” Robin quipped wryly, “I’m afraid I’m just as in the dark on this as you are.”  She sighed, leaning back in her seat with a flash of concern in her eyes.  “I really should have seen it coming, though.  I was so sure he was just gonna keep on hating her guts.”

“I still don’t understand why he hated her at all,” Dustin said, adorably naive. 

Eddie smirked, uneasy.  “Meh, not important.”

“Seriously, they got along just fine whenever we fought the demodogs,” Dustin continued, oblivious.  “And at the snowball, but then after that he just – went at it with her all the time, even though they would both still hang out with us.  Like an old married couple.”

Nancy listened intently, trying to keep up and put the pieces together.  Because truly, she herself had been wondering what changed.  But she had been so focused on her life, in her own world with Jonathan and their jobs, she really hadn’t paid much attention to the fact that you and Steve had gotten along at the start, then not at all, and now…well…

Robin puffed out a breath of air.  “Maybe they’ve just…gotten closer.  You know, found a way to get along.  Murray’s an ass, and even though she’s not and I love her, Steve’s not exactly the easiest to get along with even though I love him —”

Dustin scoffed.  “Robin.  He kissed her.”

Eddie clicked his tongue, trying to think of Metallica lyrics and avoid looking in Nancy or Jonathan’s direction.

Robin stared.  “What?”

“When?”  Nancy’s voice startled the room, and Jonathan seemed to cringe at it.

“Dustin,” Jonathan sighed.

“Today,” Dustin kept talking.  “Whenever we…brought her back.  He — he kissed her.  He literally bawled on top of her and wouldn’t let her go.” 

Dustin’s eyes lost all of the annoyance, now looking sad as he thought back on it all.  Robin stared at him along with Nancy, barely breathing.  Even Eddie looked over at him. 

“I’ve never…I’ve never seen him that upset,” Dustin murmured.  “Steve’s never sad.  Not like that.  I’ve never even seen him cry.  Not once.  Robin, did he ever cry while you both got tortured in the Russian chambers?”

Robin thinks back on that, gnawing at her lip, deep in thought.  She shook her head, realizing… “No.  No, he didn’t.  Just – panicked, but not…he didn’t cry.”

“Exactly,” Dustin says.  “Because he’s awesome.  He’s brave, and cool, and awesome.  Steve doesn’t cry.  Today?  He bawled.”

“Seeing someone die in front of you does that, man,” Eddie pointed out, melancholy.  “I know I did whenever Chrissy died… You cried today.  I did.  Byers did.”

“Not like that,” Dustin insisted, voice firm.  It made everyone go quiet again.  “Not like that,” he repeated.  “That’s how I would have cried if…like, if Suzy died.  Or how Lucas did when Max died before we got her back.  How Hopper and Joyce would.  How Jonathan and Nancy would.”

That made the present couple go stiff.  But Jonathan nodded, eyes boring a hole into his coffee mug.  “S’true,” he mumbled.  “If that were you, I would.”

Nancy looked at him, eyes guilty.  Of course, it was the same for her.  But she couldn’t focus on that right now.  Not now that her collective thoughts and observations were confirmed.  Now that she knew for sure…

“It’s not a matter of if they’re into each other,” Dustin kept going, certain.  “It’s a matter of when.  When did it start and how were we blind?”

But no one could answer that.  Robin couldn’t, and she was shocked that she couldn’t.  She knew her best friend all too well.  How had she not seen this coming?  How could she not have sensed that his never ending hatred towards you was slowly developing into liking you?  Maybe even loving you…?

Eddie had only started sensing it that day.  Until then, he had been the one to encourage Steve to go after Nancy.  To get her back, win her over.  But that stopped whenever Jonathan came back into the picture, of course.  He knew better than to cross that line.  Still, he knew that Harrington loved her and pined for her.  He also knew why Harrington couldn’t stand you, along with Robin.  They adored you, hoping at some point that you both could just become friends who tolerated each other.  Eddie never thought it would become more than that: a civilized friendship.

And Nancy felt something heavy sit on top of her chest that she really could not seem to accept yet: the truth.  She lost Steve.

“Alright, guessing game is over.” 

Murray’s voice rounding the corner made everyone jump, and he eyed down everyone at the table as he walked in with his empty soup bowl.  He made for the sink, turning on the faucet with his eyes still glued to the five people seated at the dining table, who stared back awkwardly.  Finally, he looked down as he washed his dish.

“Take it from the witchdoctor of love: those two had it coming.”

Eddie cocked an eyebrow, completely amused. 

Jonathan, however, was not.  This was so karma.

“...had what coming?” Dustin asked. 

Robin shot him a look — bless his little naive heart.

“Psh, c’monnnn,” Murray said, rinsing the bowl.   “The sexual tension.  The incessant arguing.  Harrington’s personal utmost disdain towards her.”

Nancy spoke up, unable to help herself.  “But…why though?  She didn’t do anything wrong.  Why would he have disdain towards her…?”

Jonathan hated how irritated Nancy’s question made him feel towards her.  It irked him deeply, but he just let it fester quietly as he sat there staring down at his cup of black coffee and having no choice but to listen.

Murray looked at Nancy with the most condescending expression, uncensored as fuck.  “Honey…really?” 

Off Nancy’s clueless expression, Murray rolled his eyes in the back of his skull as he slapped the faucet off before whirling to face them.

“Once upon a time, two years ago: you and Jonathan came over to my bunker — uninvited — waltzing your way into my business, along with my niece’s.  Thankfully, to our benefit, you helped us crack the case and — not so much to our benefit — onboarded us into your mess.  But rewinding back a few slides, you two stayed over because of the vodka coursing through all of our veins and tried to convince the two of us — AKA yourselves — that you two were just friends.  Which was the biggest load of unbelievable bullshit you both could have told me, and that’s after you told me everything pertaining to the absurdity and pure insanity regarding the upside down.  But really, it was a great belly laugh for me and my niece, so thank you.  Thennnn, my niece offered to let you both take her bed — not buying a lick of it, and suggesting you both stop being in denial.  On top of that, as a former student at Hawkins High, she knew King Steve very well.  She knew how Wheeler and Harrington both started dating, and how much closer the two of you —”  (he gestured between Jonathan and Nancy) “— had gotten since Will Byers went missing then got rescued.  Because my niece isn’t stupid.  She could’ve been class valedictorian if she’d wanted to, but — being like her cynical uncle — she didn’t wanna.  She’s a street-smart annnnnd booksmart cookie.  She knew you both were bound to let the trauma bond get you both together, and that genuine love had formed between the two of you way more than it had between her and Steve.  So she called it out, after being fed a bunch of coo-coo-bananas nonsense from you guys in my casa about being 'platonic.' " 

Eddie's jaw was practically touching the table. This was literally the best story he's ever heard, and it had just freaking started.

Robin felt like she was watching a movie in her mind, one in which her best friend was the main character and she was rooting for him like life depended on it.

"Fast forward to the lab, El’s grand return, Will’s exorcism, the demodogs, the Snowball, and our little house party that followed —” (he pointed at Dustin) “— you forgot that part — turns out, Jonathan Byers can’t take his liquor, so what does he do?  He goes over to my niece, who’s standing in the kitchen — like so,” (he gestured to himself) “ — and starts profusely thanking her in a string of loud, slurred, drunken words, about how he was chosen one, and how he got the girl, alllllll thaaaaannnksss toooo myyyyyy niiiieeeeeccccce."

Nancy's blood ran cold. What? 

"And because it was such a small house, no offense Henderson, unlike Casa Harrington — the king himself heard it all.  Every lick of it.  So of course, who’s he gonna hate with a fiery burning passion more than he ever could hate Jonathan Byers for stealing his girl?  The person who told him to do it.  Myyyyyy niece.  Because he can’t hate Nancy Wheeler, never-ever-ever could he hate the girl he swore was the love of his life.  And he couldn’t even hate Jonathan, because what had he done except be the victim of King Steve’s incessant bullying and his horrible posse of friends in high school while his brother was missing in another dimension?  But Steve had to hate someone.  To loathe someone, blame someone, more than himself.  So he chose her.  He chose my niece — and by extension me, but mainly her.  Because she was a part of the gang now, and around way more than I ever have been around you kids.  Which is to be expected.  So blah-blah-blah, hate-hate-hate, fight-fight-fight — soooo muchhhh traaaauma.” 

Murray paused for dramatic effect, soaking in everybody's faces, then continued. 

“...and what happens when there is trauma?... bonding.  Trauma bonding.  Forced alliance.  The need to put aside your differences, so that you all can just get along and survive.  And that leads to talking…which leads to more fighting…eventually, tears.  Lots of ugly words that can’t be taken back.  And then…suddenly…”  Murray snaps his fingers.  “Common ground.”

No one has made a sound, hanging onto Murray’s every word.

“Vecna ends the world.  At least, Hawkins.  We all somehow manage to survive it.  We all need somewhere to goooo…and we wind up here.  In a house, all underneath the same roof.  Forced to coexist.  Therefore, newfound respect and understanding is acquired when in close quarters.  Just as the two of you, Ms. Wheeler and Mr. Byers, found in my bunker.  Steve and my niece found themselves forced to live with one another, the space between them closing in.  Gap by gap, inch by inch…until…”

Murray made a gesture that looked like that of a magician, everyone’s eyes following.  “Magic.”  He walks closer, slowly.  “Some small talk becomes bigger talk.  Some childhood trauma that decorates the walls of Harrington’s house becomes the topic of conversation.  My niece just so happens to be a really good listener, and Steve happens to be in need of one.  They both discover they’re the only child in both their families.  His parents are absent.  Hers were barely ever present, before surrendering her to both mine and my mother’s care.  But she doesn’t mention that yet, no — why?  Because she’s listening.  Relating.  Understanding.  Meanwhile, Steve feels heard.  Seen.  Relevant.  Important.  Like maybe whatever he has to say matters.  Fast forward some more, blah-blah-blah…some more co-parenting later…which honestly, is the only reason those two maintained some sort of peace in the first place — aside from the inevitable perils that we all have had to face and be paid to keep our mouths shut about…”

Murray points to Dustin, who stares at him — agape. 

“You kids are the damn glue holding those two doomed enemies-soon-to-be-lovers together.  Not that you knew that.  You’re kids, and you don’t know that shit yet.  Which is good.  And they love that.  Steve might hate her, but he’s not gonna make you kids hate her.  And she finds him infuriating, but she isn’t gonna let you all know that by persuading you to feel the same.  Because he loves you rugrats, and you all love him…and you rugrats love her, as she loves you.  Fast forward to a night when all the kiddos are fast asleep, and the adults get a night to themselves with some cups of chilled vodka that fuels everyone’s laughter and newfound liquid courage — but just enough to give a light buzz, rather than sloshed drunkenness — the enemies, who’ve now become somewhat of friends…realize that they feel more.  Or at least, that’s what I observed.  Grilled my niece about it, that night before bed — and next thing you know — she is the victim of Uncle Murray’s love-talk lectures.  Just like you two were.  She’s swearing up and down that she cannot stand Steve, and that he cannot stand her.  She insists they are mortal enemies.  That he hates her.  Will forever hate her.  And then…that rambling turns into truth.  Admittance.  Denial, still.  But it’s enough to go off, allowing me to paint the picture and speak the truth into the world out loud: WE DO LOVE STEVE.”

Nancy freezes at that, eyes wide and heart blue.  She swallows thickly, and Jonathan feels sick.

Murray's conductor waving hands settled down, ready for the grand finish.

“...someone had to love Steve.  But it wasn’t you, Ms. Nancy Wheeler.  Not forever, anyway.  Not in the desperate, novel-esque ways we all read about or see in the cinemas.  But it was her.  You liked Steve, so that she could love Steve.  And he loved you, so that he could hate her…only to realize that he loved her. Deeply...madly...and truly.”

Murray leaned back, letting his rant come to a full stop.  The air was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.  Mouths agape, brains fried and heartbeats racing.  They were stunned into shocked silence.  With a sigh, Murray made for the fridge.

“Do me a favor…”  He grabbed some juice, along with the vodka, pouring himself a cup.  Then, with a severe look in his eye, he faced the group again. 

“Don’t make a damn fuss about it yet, yeah?  Not yet.  Not to them.  Wanna do it with each other, go ahead.  But maybe lay off them for a bit, will you? Hmm?”

Everyone was surprised at the uncharacteristic parental tone in Murray’s voice and the look in his eyes.  They felt parented now.

“Maybe let the shock of this newfound realization they both just came to accept barely before my niece stopped breathing today…I dunno…simmer down a bit, yeah?”

Dustin gulped, nodding.  Robin did, too.  Eddie had pretty much bitten his nails down to stubs at this point, and Jonathan had shrunk so far down into his chair he was practically on the floor now.  Meanwhile, Nancy looked like a heartbroken child who’d just been told that Santa Claus wasn’t real.  With that, Murray raised his glass of jungle juice and exited the kitchen — vanishing, leaving the group to sit there in their own unsettled energy.

So when Lucas, Erica and Steve all shuffled back down the stairs, it alarmed them.  Robin stared at Steve and the kids, while Eddie rose to stand and grab the box of crackers from Dustin.  Jonathan swigged his coffee.  Nancy just stared at Steve helplessly.

“Alright, who needs more food before we all turn in for the night?” Steve asked as he moved to put away the sandwich fixings with Erica.

Nobody spoke, making Lucas look at them with a quizzical expression.  Erica did the same, stopping as she went to put the sleeve of bologna back into the snack pan.  Steve had been busy picking up discarded bowls and plates before he finally looked at everyone, too.  He cocked an eyebrow, confused.

“You, uhhh…you guys okay…?”

Robin tried to speak, choking on air.  Steve squinted at his best friend.  Finally, she found her voice.  “Sorry.  Got the jitters.  Too much coffee.”

She stood up hastily, collecting everyone else’s cups — even Jonathan’s, who was mid-sip.  Robin avoided Steve’s gaze as she dumped them into the sink with a very fake, wide toothy-grin.  She hummed while rinsing the cups, and Eddie clapped his hands together when rising to stand himself. 

“Better, uhh, go re-dress my, uhh — dressings.”

“I got you,” Robin said, splashing the hot water and dropping the sponge so that she could hurriedly dry off her hands and follow Eddie out of the room – giving Steve a quick kiss on the head.  He watched her go, curious. 

But then he saw Jonathan and Nancy sitting over at the table still, along with Dustin — who was staring back at him sheepishly.  The curly-haired kid stood up, clearing his throat and shuffling over with the now very-empty box of crackers.  He whistled while tossing it into the garbage and moved to finish the dishes.  That definitely made Steve raise an eyebrow.  But he figured it was out of pity, so instead he just gave the kid a pat on the back and ruffled his hair before going back to tidying up the kitchen.

Nancy felt queasy.  Really queasy.  And looking at Steve was not helping, especially being seated next to Jonathan.  She rose to stand, making him look at her back with queasiness of his own.  He watched the back of his girlfriend as she started to turn to look back at him…and when she couldn’t, it made his heart sink.  She walked towards the living room, disappearing behind the wall.  But not before passing by Joyce, who made her way into the kitchen to give Steve a motherly touch on the arm.

“Dr. Owens will be here first thing in the morning,” she told him, reassuringly.  “Real early.  Probably 6AM.  Hopper’s letting Murray know.”

Nancy refused to let herself cry that night about Steve Harrington and her newly unrequited love.

Jonathan watched his mom comfort Steve, and while it made him grateful it also made him sad.  Steve sighed with relief as he thanked Mrs. Byers, and when his mother began to help him find some temporary pain medication that Dr. Owen’s instructed her to give you, he decided he couldn’t listen anymore and left.

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with her, do you?” Dustin asked.  “You know, heart-wise or anything…?”

“She’s gonna be fine,” Joyce told him sweetly, rubbing Steve’s back as he leaned against the kitchen counter with a tense back.  “Her heart, her shoulder, her mind.  Everything.”

Steve took deep breaths, and Erica would have hugged him if she weren’t so profusely against giving anyone any sort of physical affection. 

Lucas, however, did move to squeeze Steve’s shoulder next to Joyce.  After all the comfort he’d gotten from him after Max died, then got brought back…and still received, with her being in a coma…Lucas understood Steve’s pain. 

No one knew it, but Lucas had secretly caught onto Steve’s feelings for you whenever he went to visit Max in her room one morning but heard you both sitting in there.  Selfishly, he’d stayed behind the cracked door to listen in…and it made him freeze in place.  They way you and Steve bonded, despite all the rivalry between you both.  The way you both spoke to one another in Max’s presence, like she was keeping the storm at bay despite being asleep.  Lucas felt as though he was listening to a conversation taking place between two fighting parents, who were finally finding common ground.  He had secretly listened like a little kid, leaning against the wall, giddy and heartbroken at the same time.  Lucas wasn’t sure why, but he knew.  He just knew.  You two were crazy for one another.  Maybe because he and Max had their struggles, too.  Maybe something about the way Steve pushed you, and you pushed Steve — maybe it reminded him of them, just as older teens.  Steve was his hero, and you were Max’s.  He would give anything to talk with her about it, to hear whatever she had to say about the two of you…the unlikely duo…

But he didn’t say anything about it.  He felt it best not to push anything.  Not yet.  When Max woke up, he would.  But maybe now, he wouldn’t have to.  Because Steve had been faced with the possibility of losing you.  And if he was gonna mess that up, then that's preposterous.  Then Lucas would say something.

***

That night, Steve crawled back upstairs and ran into Robin coming out of his bedroom, having just discarded Eddie’s only wound dressings in the hallway bathroom and changing into her pajamas.  She was staying in Steve’s room, per usual.  And she wondered if she might have just caught him coming upstairs to sneak into your room and not his.  At this rate, nothing was a surprise anymore.  Thanks, Murray.

“Hey, dingus,” she grinned.  Steve grinned back. 

“You gonna finally get some sleep?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, gesturing to the blankets in her hands.  “Was just gonna go give Eds some fresh blankets.”

“Lemme know if you need help with that, seriously.  His wounds, I mean.  I’ll have Dr. Owens check on him tomorrow too, whenever he comes to check on Bauman.”

Robin nodded, biting her lip.  God, she wanted to ask him so many questions.  Hug him.  Tell her best friend to spill the damn beans.  Demand him to cry, to break down in front of her.  To scream.  To laugh.  Anything.

“Robs, you good?”

“Steve, I love you,” Robin blurted.  “Like – love you to death.  Best friends forever.  Just — just…”  She bit her lip some more, trying really hard to think before she speaks.  Steve waited patiently, a bit nervous.  Robin sighed.  “Just know that…I’m here.  And I’m always gonna be here.  Supporting you, with…whatever you need.  Even if that’s to shut up and just help you with something and not ask you any questions.  Alright…?”

Steve’s eyes sparkled, and he stitched up the distance between them to give her the tightest of hugs.  His best friend of a soulmate.  Platonic with a capital P.  Robin hugged him back fiercely, dropping the blankets.  She sagged with relief.  Thank God.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Steve mumbled into her hair.

“Cool.”

“Bed’s all yours.  Spread out.  Starfish.  Steal all the covers.”

Robin snorted into Steve’s shoulder, squeezing him tighter.  “Okay.  Cool, yay.”

Steve chuckled too, squeezing her to death.  He really did have the best friend in the world.  They swayed a bit like that for a moment, content and comforted in each others’ embrace.  Then finally, Steve pulled back and Robin ruffled his hair.  He rolled his eyes, swatting at her lightly as she grinned wide.  Scooping down to pick up the blankets, he handed them back over to Robin.  She smirked.

“Is she a cover hog, too?” Robin teased.

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t ask questions?”

Robin saluted, making her way towards the stairs.  “Sir, yes, sir.” 

Steve could finally breathe for the first time all day, aside from whenever you were safely in his arms.  Knowing that he had his best friend on his side without needing to have a full blown conversation about anything yet…that really helped lighten the load a bit.  He exhaled deeply, letting the relief seep into his bones as he made his way to his bedroom door.

***

Once inside, Steve felt his heart swell.  There you were, tucked in bed still, sleeping peacefully.  Steve walked over to crouch over and kiss your forehead, gently stroking your hair.  He noticed you seemed to still be in the same position.  Almost like you hadn’t moved at all.  He looked at the clock.  It’s…been hours.  Several hours.  At least 4.  He looked back down at you, seeing how still you were in the dark. 

His heart stopped.  Were you too still?

Steve placed a trembling hand underneath your nose, too shaky to be able to tell.  But when he felt nothing, he frantically grabbed your wrist — yanking it off your chest to feel for a pulse —

You moved, stirring awake and looking at him groggily.  Steve just about collapsed, clutching your hand and bringing it to his lips as he sunk down onto his knees.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and another to your palm.

You groaned lightly, moving to turn towards Steve and yawning.  He melted. 

“How long have I been out…” you asked him sleepily. 

“Hours,” he told you.  “Which is good.  You need sleep.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering tiredly.  “M’hungry.”

That made Steve grin ear to ear.  “I can fix that.  Want me to bring it up here?” 

A grin slowly made its way onto your face too, and you nodded gratefully.  Steve squeezed your hand, leaning forward to peck your forehead and your nose and your lips before promising you he would return. 

When he did, he came back with the bowl of hot soup that your uncle had kept warm for you along with water and some pain medication.  You were sitting up now, leaning against Steve’s chest as he sat with his legs caging you in and leaned up against the headboard.  You had just taken the medication a few minutes earlier, now sipping on the hot soup and a tall glass of water that Steve held onto for you.

The little bedside table lamp cast a soft glow in the Harrington’s upstairs guest bedroom, and the sound of light rain outside of the window filled the room along with the plink of your spoon against the soup bowl.  Steve felt grounded as he kept his arms around your waist, circled around you as he held you close.  His chin sat on top of your head, and the scent of his lavender shampoo in your hair filled his senses with peace. 

“What’s your favorite color?”

Steve’s question surprised you as you slurped another spoonful of soup, but you swallowed and felt the corner of your lip twerk up into a little smile.

“Yellow.”

Steve felt himself smile at that, squeezing you a little tighter.  “Guess this shirt was a good choice, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m glad you bought two.  Rich kid perks ain’t so bad.”

There was lightheartedness to your tone that Steve found himself adoring.  Craving, and yearning to hear more of – should time be on all of your side, in this godforsaken town. 

“I wonder if Vecna’s rockin’ my other one down there.”

“Nah, the dogs are.”

Steve snorted, giving your hips a little squeeze and pressing a kiss to your temple.  You sighed against him, sinking back and placing the bowl of soup onto your lap.

“What’s yours?” you asked him curiously, watching the shadow of the raindrops on the ceiling as they slid down the window. 

“Blue.  Sky blue.” 

You hummed, placing one of your hands that sat on your stomach onto his and interlacing yours fingers.  “Like a pretty, non-upside-down clear blue sky?”

“Schyeah, that.”  Steve rested his chin back on top of your head as he glanced out the window, the black sky and rainfall sending a shiver down his spine.  He wondered if the world would ever feel normal again…

Steve decided to ask you more normal questions, wanting to pretend that none of the dystopian reality just outside his house was real — just for one night.  He asked you what your favorite movie was, shocked to find that you loved romcom’s.  Especially Endless Love, Pretty in Pink and Working Girl.  He wasn’t sure why he thought you’d say dark movies, or maybe sci-fi hits.  Maybe Steve didn’t know what he expected you to say.  But regardless, your answers fascinated him.  He loved learning why you thought Sigourney Weaver’s character was misunderstood in Working Girl, which led to you both discussing women in the work force and how they should receive higher pay – equal to the men.  Steve agreed with you, liking how passionate you were about it yet graceful and humble at the same time.  You were smart, but somehow underestimated.  It was strange.  You were strange.  Turns out, he loved ‘strange.’

And it also turns out, Steve liked not only action flicks — but dramas, too.  Footloose and Baby Boom were on his list of guilty pleasure movies.

“Baby Boom??” you asked incredulously.  But you weren’t mocking him, rather genuinely intrigued and amused.

“Hey, it’s adorable,” Steve defends himself with a fake scoff.  “She adopts a damn baby and raises her as her own.  Be nice.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, tilting your head back to look at him.  “God…no wonder you love those kids so much.  You’re a natural born mother.”

“Okay but seriously, since when did I become mom and not dad?”

“Apparently, I’m dad.”

“Again: since when?” Steve's tone made you chuckle deeply.

You and Steve talked until your tongues were tired, eventually having moved to lean back onto the pillows.  He rested his head into his palm, propped up on an elbow and stroking up your side as you both enjoyed innocent pillow talk.  Softly spoken voices, hushed just enough to hear one another.  Real hearty laughter that you both muffled into your palms, or each others’ necks, so that you wouldn’t wake anyone.  Sweet confessions about food preferences, least favorite holidays, questioning religion while wanting to believe in a god.  How Steve thought that vodka was the kiss of death, while you found cigarettes to be disgusting.  Steve craved strawberry ice cream, while you were a sucker for plain old vanilla.  He loved diners, and you did too.  He swore pancakes over waffles, and you made it very clear that French toast was the clear winner.  It was a give and take conversation, and you both found it resulted in far more agreements than not.  It was the loveliest conversation that either of you’d had in years.  Maybe ever.  Not just with each other…but with anyone at all.

“So…six kids and a Winnebago, huh?”

Steve’s eyes danced in the moonlight, looking at you with pure adoration.  Shyly, he tucked your hair behind your ear, slowly nodding.  “Heard that, huh?”

You gave him a little smirk.  “It was a pretty small Winnebago.”

He shook his head fondly, then — “Yeah.  Turns out being an only child gets to you.”

You nodded sadly.  “Yeah.  It does.”

Steve hated that you knew that same loneliness.  But then again, was that what made you both see each other so clearly?  Is that why you knew his deeply rooted longing and misery better than anyone else?  Is that why maybe, just maybe…in telling Nancy to run off with Jonathan…you were protecting him?  He wondered these things as he looked into your angel eyes, not knowing how in the world he could have not looked at them like this before…especially right when he met you.

You told Steve how you’d always wanted a dog growing up, which led to his immediately confessing he wanted a lab or golden retriever.  You nodded eagerly.  Yes.  Those, or a border collie.  A dog that felt like a true family member.  Even a stray mutt who needed a home.  You both laughed at the funny names you both wanted to name them as kids.  Winston, Jeffery, Petunia, PeeWee, Pumpkin, Count Duku.  When Steve suggested pancakes as a name, you had to literally turn your head into the pillow to keep your laughter from roaring through the room and waking the household.  Even Steve felt like he’d pee himself from laughing so hard, watching you laugh so hard. 

God, you were beautiful.  You were so beautiful.

…when you smiled up at Steve, bashfully, he realized that he’d said it out loud.  “So are you,” you breathed.

Steve shook his head.  “I’m not, though.”

Your brow creased.  “Yes, you are.  You know you are…and if you don’t –”

“I don’t.”

“Well, you are,” you said simply.

Steve pressed his lips together, self-conscious.  How had he felt so damn confident all those years in high school, even middle school, but not now?  You reached up to push back some of his perfect hair, caressing his cheek. 

“I haven’t been,” he confessed, almost in a whisper.  “Not to you.  I’ve been ugly.  Really ugly.”

You looked into his guilty eyes, but Steve couldn’t find any anger or sadness in yours.  Just understanding and forgiveness.

“I was, too,” you admitted.

“No,” Steve shook his head, adamantly.  “Not like me.”

“Steve, I wrecked your life.  Well, your love life.  But still, I wrecked it.”

“No, you only wrecked it when you left it,” Steve confessed, bitter at the memory but not at you.

Never at you.  Never again.

“Telling me I deserve better, and I…told you that you deserved…nothing.”  He visibly winces at his own words.  “God, I’m so sorry —”

“Steve,” you stopped him softly, cupping his cheeks.  “Don’t.  I’ve forgiven it.  Really.  You didn’t know.  You were hurt.”

“Doesn’t make it right,” Steve whispered, looking at you with those beautiful doe eyes that shone in the moonlight.  “I actively made a point to stop hurting people, and I did it again anyway.  Worse.  Way worse than my stupid King Steve days.”

You shrugged, trying to make him smile again.  “King Steve was pretty amateur compared to the hard ass you became.”

Steve bit back a laugh, maybe even some tears.  Still, he let the joke land.  You crane your neck up to nuzzle his nose, making him sigh and return the eskimo kiss.  Then you hissed in pain, letting out a little groan.

“What's wrong?” he asked worriedly, brow pinched.

“Stupid shoulder,” you muttered.  “My ribs, too, damn…”

Steve looked down at your ribcage sadly, splaying his fingers there against your skin underneath his yellow crewneck.  He sighed.  “That’s because of me,” he confessed sadly.  “Pounding on you nonstop today with the compressions.”

“Well in that case, I’ll take it.  Pain’s good.”

You winked at him, and Steve tried to let that comfort him.  It did, for the most part.  Your oxygen intake really made it worth it, in the end.  He leaned down to press his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as you did the same. 

“I don’t know where we’re headed,” Steve whispered against you.  “Hawkins.  The country.  The world.”  He paused, breathing you in.  “Just know I want you there.  All the time.”

You smiled, eyes still closed, heart fluttering.  “Good.  You’re stuck with me, Harrington.  Bothering the ever-living shit outta you.”

“Bother me till I go insane,” Steve breathed, nuzzling his nose against you and grinning like an idiot.  He felt happy.  Absurdly happy.  Who thought that was possible?

“...Steve?”

He opened his eyes slightly, finding yours were already looking into his.  He waited, pulling back nervously.  Which is stupid, considering you’d just told him you felt the same way.  That you wanted to stay by his side, no matter what happens.  So why was he thinking that just changed within a 3-second timespan?  Why was he suddenly worried that you —

“I love you so much.”

19 years flashed before Steve’s eyes at that moment.  His childhood.  His pre-teens, and all the teen years that followed.  He thought back to every single I love you that had been spoken to him.  It hadn’t been many.  At least not many that meant anything to him.  He could count on one hand the amount of I love you’s that meant something to him over the course of 19 years.  But now, he could count on one finger the one that meant the very most to him.

“I love you so much, too,” Steve breathed, eyes glassy and mesmerized as they looked back into yours.  “God, you’ve no idea, I…”

Steve felt overwhelmed.  He scrunched his eyes shut, resting his forehead to yours again and caressing your cheeks.  He pecked your face, every inch of it, slowly.  Little kisses peppering your face.  “I love you so much.”

He could have bawled on the spot if he weren’t so completely entranced, swept up in the tidal wave of joy that splashed across his heart, mind, body and soul.  Steve could bawl about it later.  Right now, he simply leaned into your touch and vowed to never let you go.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

bless Murray and his impeccably uncensored madness. about time he set everyone straight, damn.

as alwaysssss, thank u for reading :) this series is so much fun. please comment, it always makes my day.

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fanfiction #enemies to lovers trope #joe keery #baron marmalade #jkeeryedit #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #mishas masterlists #Steve Harrington is a mother #mom steve

[megamindsecretlair]

First of all Happy New Years and how’re you doin?? I really hope you’re doin well and thriving and your loved ones are doin the same❤️

Second of all I had a thought while high that I needa get out:

Imma mess for domestic Taine. Just takin care of his woman an shit. He likes takin care of her mental load and just truly makin her feel relaxed an shit. Which brings me to his hands….he’s so beefy wit protective ass arms and he’s just ugh🤌 like imagine you had a trash ass day (school, work, family, etc) an he just caresses and massages you, tryna soften you up so youn gotta gts upset or stressed. Lights candles, brings out ya favorite oils/lotions, he even rolls a blunt for you both. He’s givin you deep tissue booty/thigh rubs and ik for a fact his strength channeled through his fingers would make me all mushy an shit….

Along that thought, he can’t help (an youn stop him) but spread ya cheeks a bit, just ta peek at ya folds, only ta see em all gushy an shit. That was a mistake because now he reeeally can’t help himself. You’re all pliable under him and he dips his fingers into ya folds “just ta taste” he tells himself. But he’s dippin into you again…and again…and again till he just says fuck it and devours you from the back. I’m talkin the messy, droolin, beard shiny a shit typa pussy eatin. You just cease to exist cuz he feels too too good. Taine is just maneuvering/manhandling your body any which way and you’re loving it, you’re loving your man. And What were you upset bout again? It’s out the window now.

Phew, glad I got that outta my system🤭

Happy New Year! Many blessings to you and ya fam! I'm getting over Covid. That is the literal devil and I'm glad to be on the other side!

And secondly...why you aint on here writing with the rest of us? Tuh. This was hot and complete all by its lonesome, you don't need me for this one, lordt!

Re-reading and re-reading all night because I, too, want that gorgeous man's big mitts on me.

If You Please

Word Count: 691

A/N: Finally a little drabble! I still write a lot but ya'll caught me on a feral night. There's no big warnings besides oral (fem receiving) and Fontaine being a horny mess. This ask was everything. Not sure if you wanted me to add to it, but couldn't help myself! Excuse me while I go re-read and re-read and re-read.

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @nerdieforpedro @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide

And Fontaine is the type to take his time because HE wants to take his time. Because HE can't keep his hands off of you. If you had a bad day? That's okay, he'll work that shit out. Had a good day? He wants to pick you up and taste the happiness from your lips.

But a particularly bad day? Oh, he already had the bath running and candles lit while you talked to him on the way home. How you wanted him to show up with a helicopter and transport you home because you were dog tired. Tiredt!

And after your bath, he does all the work. He dries you off and lays kisses all over your face and body while he towels you down. Leads you to the bed where he lays out a fresh warm towel from the dryer. Makes you lay on your back first so he can rub lotion and smell good into your deep brown skin.

Take his time to work the body cream onto your arms, shoulders, stomach. Smooth it around your breasts because he just can't resist touching you. He rubs the top of your legs, really working his thick fingers into your thighs and finding all these tension knots you didn't know were there.

Then he asks you to flip over and you are putty in his hands. Free to mold you in his arms. To play with your hips and valleys and treasure the canvas God gave him. He rubs your back and your legs. But your ass.

Fontaine is an ass man. Nothin' sweeter than seeing those two big ol' cheeks begging to be claimed by those hands of his. It's so much he can't hold it all. But he loves trying. He loves trying to cup each cheek to see how much he can hold before your ass spills over. He loves to massage your ass.

He loves to watch the grooves and dimples he makes in your ass. The little glimpses of your pussy when he spreads your cheeks are a torture all their own. Got him bricked up and mouth droolin' just from that alone. His tongue glides over his golden grills as he can remember the last time he ate you out, just last night. How pliable and verbal you were.

One little taste won't hurt right? It's your body, he wants you to feel good all over. What better stress relief, right? He wipes his hands on the towel. He can't resist digging his fingers in and suppressing a groan at finding you wet as hell. He knew his hands on you turned you on, but not like this!

Now he really can't resist bringing your sweet essence to his lips and licking his fingers. He can't stop at one taste. Once he tasted you, he had to keep diving in for more. And more until you were sighing and moaning just the way he liked.

"Too tired," you mumbled.

"Too tired to lay there, mama?" He asked.

You couldn't argue with that logic. He didn't need anything back. He just wanted to make you feel good. Making you feel good, made him feel good. And he already got his reward. He was lifting your hips, spreading you wide, and placing his mouth against your pussy and suckling like a starving man to nectar.

He couldn't help groaning and rocking his own hips into the bed, wishing he could flip you over and fuck you. But he wasn't going to be that greedy. He could give. He could give and give until you were a shaking, trembling mess beneath his tongue. Hands splayed on your ass, spreading you open and wide for him.

His nasty little slurps filled the air. His desperate pulls for air blowing against your dripping pussy. Your weak arms grasping the pillow and pulling it close while you came in his mouth. Gushing and dripping all that succulent arousal.

Well, you weren't that tired anymore. As much as you left your job bone tired and weary, unsure how you could possibly go another day, you always found solace in 'Taine's arms.

The Secret Tyrone Files - there's always more!

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Tyrone Files #Fontaine x Black!reader #Fontaine x Black reader #x Black reader #Fontaine x Fem!reader #Fontaine x Fem reader #Fontaine x plus size reader #Fontaine x you #Fontaine imagine #They Cloned Tyrone smut #They Cloned Tyrone fanfic #They Cloned Tyrone fanfiction #They Cloned Tyrone fan fic #They Cloned Tyrone fan fiction

[sniffanimal]

Happy what a week captain it's Monday Monday

#badger rants #good lordt im so fucking sbrambled

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Fic Recs | Vol 11

Hi friends!!

I've really outdone myself this week, folks. I read TWENTY SEVEN new fics (including three very long series) + a bunch of updates to WIPs I was already reading. That being said, I'm gonna sort these by character for you because it's a lot to scroll through.

If you're new here, these are all the fics I read this week (except series updates and unnamed drabbles) and my unhinged/unedited ramblings about them :)

You can find the full spreadsheet here, and you're always welcome to tag me in your fics <3

Fic recs below the Pedro <3

Din Djarin

Wherever You Stray, I Follow a one shot by @beskarandblasters

This is one of those fics that makes me genuinely pissed I'm not living in the Star Wars universe. Why can't I run away from an arranged marriage with my bodyguard who just so happens to be a very very handsome man in a suit of pure beskar? It's not fair.

Beskar Doll a series by @justagalwhowrites

Okay so I read 40+ chapters of this in TWO days. The story is so engaging?! Also we all know I love me some angst and the angst in this is so well done. It's believable, it's painful, it's excellent. I'm always hype for reader characters/FMC/OFC that are strong and capable (not that I have an issue with the damsel in distress fics either but...) I am obsessed with the reader/MC in this. She's so fucking cool and strong and AGH!!! There was no part of this where I was bored or wondered why the story went in a certain direction - it always made sense to me and I was completely engaged the whole time. That's pretty impressive for a long ass fic like this. I usually fall off after 20 or so chapters. Everyone should read this, tbh.

Significant a one shot by @softlyspector

AHHHH okay first of all, you gotta read the drabble first so you get a feel for the relationship. This was SO CUTE. I support every choice made in this fic. I don't want to spoil anything, but just know that I love the characterization and dialogue in this. I love how quickly I got sucked into the story and believed their relationship despite it only being 5k. I could kind of imagine a full series around this. It was sooooo cute UGH. (Look at me reading fluff, what's goin on).

Fix it a one shot by @jksprincess10

I love how you've barely written Din before (1 fic) and then you produce this. It's so fucking good. We get helmetless!Din without a fuckton of buildup and like I get that it's not the most realistic, but sometimes you just want Din Djarin to eat you out without 20 chapters of wondering what his face looks like or having to be in the dark. And the tattoos... nad... you gave him tattoos.... I'll pass out and die on the floor right now.

a little attention a one shot by @luckbealincoln

Din has a rough day (haha get it?) and reader knows just how to get rid of his pissy ass attitude. I love love love dom!Din so fucking much this is so hot PLEASE

Best Kept Secret a series by @lincolndjarin

Bodyguard!Din and princess!reader!!!!!!!!!!!! I love this trope so much. I expected the fic to be a little kitschy because I mean... it's a kitschy trope. And I love kitschy shit that's why I clicked on it... but guys! guys!! it's not!! This fic has so much depth, so much emotion. The little glimpses of Din's backstory, the depictions of mental health, that bastard Kodo, my beloved Elaine and Lysa... just... there's so much in this story that I adore. It feels fresh and interesting and it's heart wrenching and wonderful and sexy and....yeah read this one thanks.

Who do you belong to? a one shot by @beskarandblasters

HOT!!!!!!! Possessive!Din is so fucking hot. The smut is.... oh my lordt it is good.

Joel Miller

i can be your pretty girl a series by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

A little innocent reader/manipulative dbf!joel never hurt anyone, right? I fucking love this. And the subsequent part is... even better (worse? more depraved?).

Epiphany a one shot by @jksprincess10

This story hurts. It hits you right in the chest and takes the breath out of you. Worth the pain though. It's gorgeously done <3

I'll Do Anything a one shot by @beskarandblasters

I feel like I've seen some fics that are this trope but in reverse, where Joel is the one making reader pay with sex. I think I like this better tbh. Desperate, needy Joel is everything.

Seven a one shot by @proxima-writes

Starting with the dream was so fucking good! And I really like the choice to not make it a 1 to 1 direct recreation of the actual scene with Sarah. I loved the early interactions with Joel and reader so much. The library scene AHHH!!!! And then fast forwarding through the reallly good smut, the dream that's not a nightmare???? Are you kidding me??? genius. Reader still believing in beautiful things and making joel believe he deserves good things and oh my god just shoot me now this was adorable.

sensational a series by @sinsofsummers

I guess I was on an innocent reader kick this week idk. I love the buildup of the reader's background in this though. She feels like a real person and not just a vessel for actual reader to pretend we're virgins and Joel Miller is teaching us about sex. Like she is that, don't get me wrong, and I love it. But!! She's a real person, with feelings and a backstory and I am a slut for a good story with my smut. Okay and also Joel doesn't feel like a creep in this, which is a little hard to achieve given the premise. I really liked this and I hope we get more. (there's a part two, but like I'd read 10 parts of this are you kidding)

Desire a series by @toxic-seduction

Good ol' depraved smut. I haven't read one like this before!! And the follow up is just as yummy. Highly recommend if you're feeling a little freaky :)

Gimme What I Want a series by @atticrissfinch

Oh my god oh my GOD oh my god. This was so fucking hot?! And the little moments of humor too?! I love the format for this so much. And the attention to detail with the timestamps and everything!! And then part two... I was not prepared. God it was so hot. (and the lil bonus of Joel being awkward and adorable ughhhh). The blend of sexy and funny and a tad bit depraved and a tiny bit sweet... perfect.

Lavender a series by @justagalwhowrites

Hey, it's not nice to break people's hearts repeatedly. There are barely even words to describe this fic. The nanny trope to start out with, meaning that you get really really attached to Sarah and pre-outbreak Joel and you build up all these hopes and dreams for the two of them.... and then... (trying not to spoil things) Joel being a moron and then the outbreak of course and... I always want to know what happens in that 20 years between outbreak and Joel meeting Ellie. I really adore the way that canon content was blended with original content in a way that seems to make Joel's actions make even more sense than they do in canon. Doc is such a cool character also??? And oh my GOD Andrew and Jess... I seriously cannot explain how fucking perfect this is. I could read it forever. Like I hope you carry it on through season two when that comes out, it's that good. I would read 500 chapters of this.

Mine a one shot by @the-scandalorian

How does one write Porn Without Plot, anal at that, and make it profound? Apparently this way. How dare you make me feel anything but a little ashamed and lot horny about an ANAL FIC?! Are you a fucking WIZARD?! Anyway yeah y'all should read this one.

Stay here, honey a one shot by @swiftispunk

This is just porn but I was having that kind of day. dbf!joel + really high chance of getting caught PWP. Wonderful <3

What I need a one shot by @swiftispunk

knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink. Oh and also a lil bit of sweetness at the end. Yes please

Your Summer Dream a series by @swiftispunk

Look I've only read chapter one and I'm already in love. The set up is so good. Joel seems so sweet and charming and cool and HOT?!? Reader is about to win the rebound Jackpot for real. I'd be jealous if I wasn't,,,, ya know,,, the reader.

exile a one shot by @tieronecrush

Oh hey cool, thanks for hurting my feelings... just kidding you know I love angst. This was so gorgeously written. I love all the descriptions a lot. And also... I read a lot of joel/reader breakups where she just immediately crumbles and takes him back because like wouldn't we all? But I really like how you had her hesitate even though she's clearly miserable. At least one of us is emotionally mature enough to not dive headfirst back into a toxic relationship (couldn't be me).

Javier Peña

a pile of cards a one shot by @undercoverpena

There are very few things I love more than fluffy, soft!Javi Peña. That man has the capacity to be so sweet and caring and kind and loving and AHHHHHH. I really love the way this story is told. A story in birthdays for your birthday celebration... that's so fucking creative I love it. I just... I can't say enough about this fic. Read it!!

not here, not now a one shot by @gracieispunk

Reader gets in trouble with Javi and handcuffs are involved... I feel like I do not need to say more.

(Re)union with Elvis a one shot by @tieronecrush

I've read a lot of these lil accidental marriage fics, and this is one of my favorites so far. I loved getting to see them meet up sober, go through the whole night, experience the silly wedding, the mind blowing sex, and then the wakeup scene is actually so cute? I rarely see one of these without a defcon level freak out about the fact they got married. Imagine telling this story at your wedding? Like oh yeah we've actually already divorced each other and it was before we ever started dating.

Pero Tovar

Xìngjiāo a one shot by @absurdthirst

I finally watched The Great Wall and my literal first move after finishing it was to see if absurdthirst wrote a sex pollen fic for Tovar and she FUCKING DID!!!!! Gods I love sex pollen.

Pero Tovar and his Guerrera a series by @prolix-yuy

This lil loose fit series makes my heart sing. Pero being an idiot? Reader being a badass? Silly arrangement to be able to stay near each other without having to admit feelings? Finally admitting feelings??? Wrap me up in this story and bury me in it, thanks.

Dave York

Stormy Secrets a one shot by @absurdthirst

Kinda randomly got in the mood to read something fucked up and stumbled on this lovely Dave York fic. Murder daddy didn't let me down, this was EXCELLENT. Pretty much checked every box on the list of what I would kill to have Dave York do to me.

Just Your Average Suburban Couple a one shot by @absurdthirst

What if Murder Daddy had a Murder Wife? I know it's a hot take, but I love the fake dating trope so this is so fun for me. Add in badass reader, infidelity, murder, Dave York being soft (in his own way), domestic Dave, and possessive/jealous!Dave? Oh and of course delicious smut. I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

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Do y'all prefer it sorted like this or was it fine the old way? This takes a little extra work, but it's not that bad.

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Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction #The Mandalorian #din djarin #dave york #joel miller #pero tovar #javier peña

[ooksaidthelibrarian]

Babylon 5 Rewatch S1E9: Deathwalker

The Hour of Scampering, but of course

I know Deathwalker has plot armour here but man I would have thought that if Na'Toth wanted you dead, you would BE dead

LOL G'Kar's lil impatient wave at Na'Toth to follow him out of the interrogation room

LORDT Abbut's clothes, such 90s very pattern, wow

okokokshe would be dead, I didn't think of that

good to know that when people call the commander, the call goes right through with video on! what could go wrong with this

everyone and their mother knows about the hole in Sinclair's mind it seems

I adore Lennier so much, he is the best

Sinclair and Garibaldi are each other's conscience in this show/season and I always enjoy it. I'm very on Garibaldi's side here.

Sarah Douglas as Deathwalker gives such a visceral performance, it's great

I also enjoy the little history lesson we get on all the races

FISH LADY

Garibaldi apologising to Sinclair is such a nice touch

Lennier does NOT like his instructions, that's for sure

yessssss we get to see a whole bunch of alien ships and it's really fucking cool

people always complain about B5's special effect but come on, they look fine. More than fine, actually.

aw Ivanova is so proud when Sinclair compliments her work

Thalia, just punch him in the brain

also, it seems terribly unwise to have your brain out in the open like this but what do I know

the twist to that immortality serum is so good and Deathwalker delivers it with such relish

AND THE VORLONS WITH THE STEEL CHAIR

I really like this episode for all the background information we get on the races, the dilemma Deathwalker presents everyone with and seeing how they all deal with it. The immortality serum itself makes zero sense but it doesn't need to, it's there to kick the story into gear and that it does very well.

#babylon 5 #b5 #b5 rewatch #dai watches stuff #b5 deathwalker

[skinnyazn]

Contact

Takes place before: In the Bleak Midwinter

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar)  Chapters: 4/4  Notes: Good LORDT she's done, idk why this mini-series was so hard to write but I'm happy with this last chapter, Jag and Ghost just needed to eye fuck and set their differences aside, sry if there's errors I'm editing and posting late, anywayyyyy, DOWN BOY,

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | AO3 | MASTERLIST

“Why the hell wasn’t I told about the change in mission?” You burst into Price’s office, straight off the plane. 

The older man looked up from his desk, the edge of his black watchman’s hat concealing a cocked brow.

“It was need—”

“Need to know, yeah I got that much,” you finished for him. “So why the hell wasn’t I need to know?”

Price leaned back in his seat, dropping his pen and folding his hands over his stomach. You continued through his silence.

“Why did you have Laswell hire me?”

“Because we needed help with intel,” he begrudged.

“Right, right. So then when the person you hire for intel gives you a solid lead, is it standard for the 141 to ignore said lead and go after a glaringly obvious dead end?”

Price exhaled loudly.

“And to top if off, you don’t even notify me. Instead, you wait until thirty minutes before we land to have your fucking smug lieutenant tell me.”

“Simon was just following my orders.”

You stood in front of the man, hands on your hips, forcing yourself to breathe slower.

“Do you still need my help with landing the target?” you asked once you reclaimed some semblance of calm.

Price stared at you with hard eyes; his wrinkles around the edges crinkled slightly. 

“Yes.”

“Then keep your dog on a fucking leash, Price. And you tell me the next time the mission perimeters change.”

The older man’s brows furrowed as his jaw shifted. You didn’t bother to stay as you made your way straight to your room; you needed to decompress before you said more shit you’d probably regret. 

____

It didn’t surprise you when Laswell called shortly after your confrontation with Price. You pulled the phone from your pocket and answered.

“Heard about the mission,” she spoke passively.

“Did you know?” You asked, stretching out on the floor of your room. You hadn’t bothered to unpack from the mission because quite frankly you were debating if you were going to stay. It was a bit dramatic, sure, but you were still livid at the botched operation and complete disregard for your expertise, not to mention the weeks of work you had already put in. 

“Not until after you had arrived,” you could hear Laswell multitasking in the background. “I was sleeping, after all.”

That brought a chuckle out of you. “Glad to hear someone around here takes my advice.” 

“Oh don’t give yourself too much credit—sleep and rest are two very different things.”

“Mmhmm.”

There was a comfortable silence.

“Heard about the incident with Price as well.”

“Figured you would.”

“It was out of line.”

“So was changing mission parameters last minute and not telling me.”

Laswell sighed into the phone.

“You’re still working for the man. Those boys are his pride and joy. Can’t speak about them like that.”

You sat up, leaning your back against the single-framed bed in the room.

“I don’t like sloppy jobs, Laswell. What’s the point in hiring me if you’re not even going to follow the leads I find?”

She simply hummed on the other end of the line. You continued.

“Well, I hope Soap and Gaz got something from of their assignment. We’re having a briefing once they get in this afternoon,” you looked at a dark spot on the floor. It looked like a slightly mutilated bear.

“You and me both. We need this bastard before November’s over.”

You nodded. “We’ll get him.”

“See that you do.”

The call disconnected as you continued to stare at the floor. Maybe it was a was a beaver instead.

____

By the time the afternoon rolled around, you were sitting on the couch in the rec room, nursing a beer. There wasn’t much to do until Kyle and Johnny returned anyway. Simon made himself sparse the entire morning, undoubtedly brooding somewhere. The irritation toward him that had been stewing for the past four days was finally settling a bit—the beer and your vent with Price helped.

“Oh my fucking days,” it was Johnny’s voice that livened the quiet room. You looked up at the Scot as he walked in; the poor man looked drained. Kyle stumbled behind him.

“Hey Johnny, Kyle.” The couch sagged under their weight as they flopped down, still fully geared. You pulled your knees up.

“Never thought I’d be this happy to be back at base,” Kyle sighed, closing his eyes.

Johnny’s head was lulled against the back of the sofa. He glanced at the beer in your hand. “Glad that one of us gets to relax while we do all the hard work.”

“Johnny—” you warned but he waved his hand. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re the reason you and Ghost are back already. Heard it from Price earlier.” Johnny looked around the room. “Where’s the big bad dog anyway?”

You took another sip of beer before setting it down on the table; word travels fast in the 141. A flush of warmth heated to your cheeks. Maybe you should speak to the lieutenant after the meeting…

“Simon’s in the briefing room already.” Price had walked in, standing by the door with his arms crossed. Kyle and Johnny looked at their superior. “Best if we join him.”

Kyle groaned. “C’mon, Cap, two more seconds. We just sat down.”

“On your feet,” was all he responded before walking back the way he came.

The three of you stood, following after the man.

A part of you was thankful the meeting was starting early. It meant you could finally get some clarity on the situation and hopefully some good news about operation with the family. You sat down next to Kyle.

“Report, Sergeant,” Ghost said from the front of the room. He was leaning against the wall, refusing to meet your stare.

“Right, so ah know things got a wee muddled with Omarov, but Gaz the Lad worked his charm with the target’s sister,” Soap started off, punching the younger man in the arm. Gaz entertained it, Ghost rolled his eyes, and Price let out a long exhale. You felt sorry for the older man—he’d had a day. 

While Johnny went over the details of their operation and its small successes, you watched Simon. His initial cockiness from your mission had quickly dissipated after the house in Kostanay turned up empty, and it was completely extinguished by the time you boarded the plane this morning, four days later. Mission unsuccessful. The Brit’s attitude on the aircraft was the quintessential definition of brooding. He’d made eye contact with you a few times as the hours ticked by, but neither of you had broken the silence. You were just disappointed, mostly. Nothing had gone according to the plan that you thought you had set with the alleged legendary task force. A lesson somewhere in there about setting expectations.

In the present, Soap continued on about a connection in Kokshetau, Kazakhstan. It helped narrow down the the scope considerably, but still left a lot of possible places for the target to be hiding.

“What about Alekskeev?” Kyle asked. He was quickly becoming your favorite task member.

“Got the tip off as well,” Price responded, looking at you this time. You didn’t rub it in—just held a softened gaze with the man. “But our inside contact found some good intel where he was staying. The Russian packed up in a hurry and was sloppy.”

“One of those leads is a small supply run to a remote area outside of Kokshetau as well,” Ghost followed, his rough voice commanding. You looked at those brown eyes behind the mask, but they still refused to meet yours. “This could be it.”

By the time the meeting came to its close, you were mostly mollified. It was frustrating as hell knowing Alekskeev held the answers and got away, but at least the task force was back on the trail; not all was lost.

“Alright, get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll hone in on the location of our target. Dismissed,” Simon spoke. You began to stand up from your seat. “Not you.”

You looked at Simon, sitting back down slowly. He waited until everyone left before walking—no, stalking—to the front of your desk. The brute placed both his massive, gloved hands flat against the surface. His forearms were exposed again, showing off their vascularity. Your pulse quickened as he leaned closer, looming. You remembered to close your mouth as you looked up at him.

“Let’s get one thing clear: you ‘ave a problem with me, you say it to my face,” it came out low and venomous.

“I did.”

His jaw shifted underneath the mask. “What’s this about leashes then? Think I’m a fuckin’ dog?” 

You could feel heat radiate from his body this close—it took all your strength not to shiver.

“When you act like one.”

His grip tightened on the desk. 

“So what does that make you? The master or the fucking bone?” There was a fire blazing in those warm eyes now.

But your gaze back was defiant. Leaning in close to Simon—mouth nearly against the fabric covering his ear—you spoke. 

“Be a good boy and you might just find out.”

A heartbeat passed and you watched his massive frame stiffen, before you pulled back slightly. The fire in his eyes changed into something else—something you couldn’t name as his eyes flicked between yours. Blonde lashes lowered as his gaze dipped to your lips, to the pulse hammering in your neck, then back to your eyes. Not for the first time, you wanted to know what he looked like under the mask—what his hair was like, if he had scars, if he was handsome or battered. If he would want you all the same. Neither of you moved.

A noise in the hallway broke the trance, and you pulled back. You remembered to breathe again and so did he.

“Dismissed,” Simon finally spoke, somewhere between a growl and a murmur, but void of all the roughness from seconds ago. 

Your face softened as you rose, breathing in his scent while you lingered this close. He remained in place as you walked to the door.

_____ It was a subtle shift, but that moment had created a new axis to which everything you and Simon newly revolved. From the way he now held your stares, to how he’d relax his massive thighs against yours in meetings so that they barely touched, to the accidental run-ins in the hallways. You weren’t sure if the other team members noticed, but as the weeks went by, whatever it was between the two of you had grown to something less subtle.

“She needs a callsign, Ghost,” Soap said as he lounged on the couch, his boots rested on the coffee table. You stared at the tan man.

“Why do I need a callsign?” 

“Cause everyone on the team gets a callsign! And it has to match. Can’t be something dumb, like Barbie.” He took a sip of his beer. Gaz cursed softly under his breath as he struck a billiards ball in the background.

“Why can’t I be Barbie?” You shifted your body toward Soap, crossing your arms.

“Cause you’re not blonde,” he replied as if it was obvious. “Take me for example: got mine for my aptitude to clean a room, all spick and span like. And Ghost’s is… well, just look at the bastard.”

Simon looked up from the paperwork he was reading in his hand, eyes looking somewhat annoyed behind his black balaclava.

“Fine. Then what’s my callsign?” Tilting your head, you quirked an eyebrow.

“Mantis,” Gaz chimed in from across the room. You pondered it.

“Nah, doesn’t fit her,” Simon spoke, still focused on the papers. His voice sent a warmth through your body.

“Jaguar?” You dragged your attention back to Soap as he gave the suggestion. It actually wasn’t half bad for a name. He grinned. “…You know, cause you’re smart, stealthy.”

“A smooth ride?” you grinned back. It was fun watching the red creep up the Scotsman’s neck.

“Dangerous.” The papers were now resting on Simon’s lap as he leaned back in his chair, thighs spread a little. You struggled to compose yourself when he looked at you like that—want and possessiveness hidden behind half lidded eyes. Even Gaz took a pause to observe the very blatant eye fucking happening.

“Jesus, you two. Alright. Jaguar it is,” Soap continued, taking another sip of his beer at an attempt to cool the flushing of his cheeks. You grinned.

Outside, a light snow was beginning to fall in the darkness of night. There were only three more days before the team would ship out to Kokshetau. It seemed like Laswell might finally get her wish after all.

____ Big thanks to everyone who read through this! I love and appreciate you all &lt;;3 Tags: @deadbranch @dotcie @prosopagnosis @solidly-indulgent

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