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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

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how people can change

steve harrington x gn!byers!reader

word count: 4,427

warnings: swearing, like one use of y/n, mentions of season one steve's bullshit, mentions of death, enemies to friends to more type beat

a/n: my very first *full* steve fic. look at us. who woulda thought? not me. i've been working on this since february. don't look at me, i know. i know. but i think i've gotten some sort of hold on how i'd like to write steve. some of the dialogue (season 2) isn’t mine. (also the title is a lyric from strange by celeste!) let me know what you think, okay? i love you. steve loves you. don't tell me if it's bad.

————

November 1984

The door slams behind you with a deafening thud, and you take the extra five seconds to lock it. You know, that action no one else in your family seems to be capable of performing.

The house is quiet, and you step over the map of Hawkins sprawling over the hardwoods, careful not to damage Will’s work.

Your keys clang against the table, knocking into your mother’s ashtray. It’s dead quiet again, and you freeze at a subtle interruption in the silence. There’s a muffled sound coming from somewhere else in your home, and frankly you’ve had enough of everything the last couple of days. Which is why Joyce sent you home to get some sleep, to clear your head.

There’s no denying that you have a soft spot for Will. He’s always been your buddy. And you love Jonathan, you do, and he’s got this sick ability to know what you’re thinking or feeling before you do, but he doesn’t need your protection like Will does.

Will is your best friend. And he’s got one hell of a support system with you, Jonathan and your mom behind him. He deserves the world. You’ve always thought that.

You quickly infer that it’s a walkie making the sound, based on the staticky crackle, the slightly muffled voice of whoever’s trying to get through from the other side.

Yours is off—you know it is—so it has to be Will’s. Jonathan was too good for a walkie-talkie.

You step down the hallway, pushing your younger brother’s bedroom door the rest of the way open. You scan the small area for it, listening.

“Code red! This is a code red! I repeat, this is a good red! Shit, is anyone there?”

You snatch up the device, extending the antenna.

“Dustin? Is that you?”

“Jesus christ! Where have you been?” Dustin exclaims, and you swear you can hear someone else interfering with his words.

“Sorry! I wasn’t home. What’s wrong?” You sit on the edge of Will’s bed. It’s so much comfier than yours.

“It’s Dart! He’s, he’s just…you know what? It’s a long story. Where are you right now?”

This time you definitely hear another voice, and maybe even music.

“Dart? You kept him, right? I fucking knew it, Henderson! You’re so not a good liar.”

“That’s for sure.” You can’t place the voice, not over the walkie and over Dustin’s rambling, but you do catch that and it’s enough to leave you curious.

The boy starts to argue back, but you cut him off. “Dustin, who are you with?”

“Uh,” he coughs, “Well you see, um…Steve Harrington. I’m with Steve Harrington.”

Dustin gets a severe eye roll from said partner-in-crime, but he brushes it off.

“What?” You’re so confused. How did that even happen?

“I know! But everyone’s been MIA!”

“Oh my god,” you say, and Dustin can practically see you face-palming.

“Look,” he shoves a handful of rogue curls back under the brim of his hat. “Can you just meet up with us? The old junkyard?”

You push off of Will’s bed, and start walking through the house again, retrieving your things. So much for a nap or eating anything other than hospital Jell-O. What are you gonna say? Fuck no?

“Yeah, yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank god,” Dustin breathes. “See you then. Over.”

You make sure to check the batteries in Will’s walkie before you go, and then you’re back in your car again, backing out just as aggressively as your mother (something you said you’d never do).

————

“Yeah, Farrah Fawcett. You tell anyone I just told you that, and your ass is grass you’re dead, Henderson. Do you understand?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

Dustin goes quiet for a minute, watching each step he takes. The train tracks are old, and there are one too many loose nails for his liking. “So what’s Y/N got against you, man?”

Steve adjusts one of the gloves he’s wearing, trying not to think about the fact that he’s gonna smell like raw meat for who knows how long. “Uh, I don’t know, exactly. Never really talked to them before. But I’d assume it’s the–”

“The assholery?” Dustin interrupts.

“Dude.”

“What? It’s true.”

“No, yeah, you’re right.”

Dustin catches the slip in Steve’s attitude almost immediately. “Hey, they’re good, okay? I don’t think you’re a total dick, if that means anything. You’re trying and that’s what matters, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, we will. Thanks, Henderson.”

Dustin gives Steve a winning smile. This kid could rule the world, he thinks.

“Anytime,” Harrington. He lifts his hand up, awaiting a fist bump that Steve returns without a second thought.

————

You wander down the trail of raw meat you’ve found, not bothering to even question what's happening or where the meat came from. Frankly, you don’t really want to know.

At the end of your path, you catch a glimpse of familiar curls, even if they are crushed under the red brim of a hat.

“Dustin?”

The boy practically gives himself whiplash turning around to face you.

“Holy shit, I’m so glad you’re here. It’ll be nice to have someone older than me who’s not a total pain in the ass.”

“Hey, I heard that.”

The voice pulls your attention away from Dustin. When you look up, Steve Harrington is walking out of the biggest vehicle in this abandoned lot: a school bus. He’s wiping his hands on his jeans and pushing the ends of his sleeves up.

Dustin looks at you. “You guys have to be acquaintances at the least, right?”

You nod at him, feeling your face burn. If there’s a word for a less-than-acquaintance, you don’t know it. But that’s probably where your relationship with this boy lies. King Steve isn’t really someone you just miss.

But yeah, you know him. You know he’s a dick.

“Hi.” Steve pushes his sunglasses up into his hair and crosses his arms.

“Hi.”

You only look at him for a moment before your eyes are back on Dustin. The younger boy notices the tension radiating from you, and honestly, he gets it. Steve Harrington wasn’t exactly the person he’d planned on spending his day with, but here he was. Desperate times call for desperate measures or whatever.

“So what are we doing?” You ask.

Dustin puts his thumbs underneath the straps of his backpack, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little. “It’s a long story. Best if we talk while we work.”

You roll your eyes at him, but follow the thirteen-year-old wherever he wants to go. You’re not sure you could deny Dustin Henderson anything.

————

You watch as Max, a young girl you’ve just met, stomps up the steps of the ladder you’ve rigged inside the mess of a bus that you’re camped out in.

Your chest aches because what Dustin just said to her was rude, it was rude, and you can’t believe the two of them. You sit, arms crossed and leg shaking up and down, glaring at Steve.

You find it hard to believe that after everything you’ve learned tonight, about Dart, about Mews—which you’re never going to get over because you only visit Dustin’s house for his cat, never him—that this is what they’re doing now.

“That’s good,” Steve says. “Just show her you don’t care.”

Dustin is pacing, hands deep in his pockets. “I don’t,” he breathes.

Steve winks. Watching the two of them is like watching a tennis match. You don’t even like tennis.

“Why are you winking, Steve?”

You drag your hand down your face, sick of hearing this stupid ass conversation. When Dustin sits, the constant clink of metal where Steve keeps flicking his lighter open over and over starts to give you a headache.

“Fuck, Steve, would you quit it already?”

He scoffs, snapping the lid to his Zippo closed harder than he had been before. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re pissing me off, that’s my problem.”

Steve’s brow furrows. He doesn’t really understand the sudden need for aggression.

“Is this really the time for you to be yelling at me?”

“Is this really the time for you to be a dick?”

Dustin jerks the antenna on his walkie down, clearly sick of the two of you. “Would you children stop bickering? This is a life or death situation we have going on here.”

“I’d prefer death,” you proclaim.

Dustin glares at you. “I can arrange that if you’d really rather die, than act civil for one evening.”

“I think all of the civility,” you gesture vaguely with your hands, “went out the window when you asked me to come help fight demo-dogs.”

Steve snorts at your words, and you glare at him, an “oh, is that funny?” look on your face.

Dustin rearranges the hat on his head, stuffing his curls underneath it once again. “Alright. I’m gonna go check on our status, you two…work shit out, okay?”

“Dude,” Steve starts, “I’m older than you. I don’t have to listen to your instructions.” He gestures vaguely with his hands.

Dustin flips him off, and that’s the only response Steve receives, leaving the two of you alone in the bus.

You remain quiet, hoping that if you do you might just disappear or dissolve into the cracked leather of the seat you're sitting on. Then there really wouldn’t be any form of confrontation.

Steve starts flipping the lid to his Zippo open and shut repeatedly again, but this time it doesn’t annoy you. In fact, it gives you something to focus on, and you know that if you had one you’d be doing the same exact thing.

You wonder if he’s nervous. Or just bored.

Your knee begins to bounce when you realize that he’s looking at you, that he’s stopped messing with the lighter. But you refuse to look back, staring instead at the way the moonlight glints off of the metal in between his fingers.

“So what’s your problem with me?”

The way Steve says those words is so unlike the way he’s spoken the rest of the day, the way he’s behaved with Dustin, that you feel a pang in your chest.

He sounds like he used to.

“Did you even hear that? How conceded you just sounded? Like it’s funny that I might have a problem with you, king Steve?”

Obviously the use of his nickname hits a nerve. He shoves the lighter back into his pocket and sits up, tucking his hands under his knees.

“Would you just cut the shit and tell me what your problem is then?”

You sit up, matching his stance. There’s a part of you that wants to piss him off. You ache for it.

“You’re a dick, that’s my problem.”

Steve scoffs.

“That’s it? Like I don’t already know that?”

You roll your eyes, oblivious to the fact that all three of the younger kids you’re with have their heads hung over the escape latch in the top of the bus, listening eagerly.

“You think I’m just gonna put up with you, Harrington? I’m sorry, did you forget the slut shaming you and your shitty friends did publicly last fall? Because I sure as hell didn’t. I didn’t forget that you walk around like you fucking own the entirety of Hawkins because you’re swimming in daddy’s money. I didn’t forget that your girlfriend took my best friend away from me.”

You stop, and Steve just looks at you. You realize how heavy you’re breathing and subconsciously watch the steady movement of his chest, trying to match the pace and calm down. You hadn’t meant to get worked up like that. But sometimes…sometimes shit just happens.

Steve sighs. Honestly he feels a little sick. And he could argue with you some more, say that you don’t know what you’re talking about, that that’s the past, that he’s getting better. But that feels shallow. It feels meaningless. Because he knows it’s true. That in worrying about only himself or getting the girl or impressing whoever, he hurt loads more people than he realized.

It’s such bullshit, he thinks. This life he’s been living.

“You know, I’ve gotten plenty of earfuls about my actions from Dustin, I promise you that much. He can be very mean.”

You snort, considering there’s absolutely no denying that. “He’s a smart kid.”

Steve nods. He’s trying to think of a way to respond. He’s not good with words.

“Look, I-I know I’m a dick, okay?” he starts. You decide to be brave and look at him. He seems to like that. The eye contact. It’s like it lets him know you’re paying attention. He doesn’t get a lot of that, not away from school.

“The thing with Nancy,” he gestures with his hands, looking away from you and at the wall of the bus, like it hurts him to talk about or something. “I don’t know. My solution to not getting what I wanted was apparently to take it out on her. Tommy H. proposed the idea, and I didn’t stop it.”

“You know I cleaned it off, right?” he continues.

You uncross your arms and sit up, criss crossing your legs instead. “No. I didn’t know that.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like I broadcasted the information across Hawkins. Tommy and Carol don’t even know.”

Oh. The fact that they didn’t know tells you that he did it without needed recognition. He did it because he wanted to.

“I just—she saw it. And then there was the whole thing…”

You start to grin before you catch yourself, but he sees it.

“It’s okay, you can laugh. I got the shit beat out of me.”

“You deserved it.”

He can’t argue with that. He won’t argue with it. “You’re right. I did. I said and did a lot that day that I regret.”

You nod, and then you’re both just looking at one another. It’s quiet out here, the same quiet you get at home, where you can hear the crickets, where you know there will be lightning bugs in the warmer months, free to roam uninterrupted by human activity.

Steve pushes his hair from his forehead, and though he sees you track the movement of his hand, he doesn’t point it out.

“What did you mean about your friend?”

If you’re being honest with yourself, you hadn’t intended for that to come out, but being in such close proximity to Steve in this moment had just made everything spill out.

You try to wave him off. “That was a whole thing. I didn’t mean to spill my guts like that.”

“No, it’s okay, I want to know. If you want to tell me, that is.”

You nod, chewing at your thumb nail now. Steve has the urge to reach forward and pull it free so you won’t hurt yourself, but he doesn’t. Instead he stays still and quiet, watching you contemplate a while.

Eventually he decides to keep going.

“I’m trying, you know,” he tells you. You look up and it gives him that little push to continue speaking. “To be better. I know you think I’m a total dick, and you’re not wrong, I know that, but I really am trying to be better. To be a good influence on those little shits.” He quirks his head upwards where he knows all three of his charges are eavesdropping, without a doubt.

You take a second and look at him. Really look at him. He seems to carry himself differently, though it’s not something you’d notice if you weren’t looking. He’s not dressed like his mommy picked out his outfit. He looks messy. The mess draws you in.

“I believe you. And I-I know I shouldn’t stereotype you, but it’s just—”

“I am a walking stereotype,” Steve grins. So do you.

“Yeah. I guess so. But I believe that you’re working on it. I suppose some people don’t remain assholes forever.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, though a little distracted. You still haven’t told you what you meant, but that’s not what’s really bugging him.

There’s this pull inside him. This longing for a friend. A real friend. Not someone he knows just because their dads were up each other's asses, or someone he just sits with at lunch because they’re of the same status quo.

And he just feels so alone right now. What with Nancy, this girl he thought he was in love with and everything, but clearly she doesn’t feel the same. What’s he even supposed to do with that? Did he ever actually know anything about her?

It doesn’t matter.

What matters is that he’s sitting here with you, hanging out with thirteen-year-olds and hiding from creatures Steve’s brain can’t even begin to decipher.

“Barb,” you say. Steve panicked a little internally at the mention of her name, considering. But he keeps his eyes on you, focused on each word that leaves your mouth. “She was my best friend, in middle school that is.”

He nods. Oh. Oh.

“We were still close when we got to high school, had a little group and everything, right? And even though high school kinda fucks everything up, I didn’t want to believe that would happen to our little partnership, you know?”

He nods again, trying his best to pay attention. He’s trying harder than he ever has in school. He probably shouldn’t ever say that out loud.

“Anyways, she was my best friend. She was all I knew, and then we got to lovely Hawkins High, and she met Nancy. Nancy and I never really clicked, even when we tried. I guess it’s because I’ve always thought she was a pretentious bitch—sorry, Steve—but I don’t know. We just fell apart after that.”

“So Barb had Nancy and I had…no one. And the way my brain saw it was Nancy took my best friend from me, and then Nancy started seeing you, and so I saw those two from across the cafeteria, lounging with the popular kids. With you. And then she died.”

Steve is looking at you in a way he’s never looked at you before. Like he’s in awe of you. And it’s not anything negative. It’s warm. Understanding. Like something you’ve said has straightened something out in his brain, sorted something he couldn’t figure out on his own.

“S-so it was like we took her from you, in a way?” he asks.

“Yeah. And you didn’t. God, you didn’t. But it just felt like this…” you trail off, searching for the right words.

“Domino effect?”

“Yeah! Yeah. Exactly. And it’s not your fault, not at all. But I guess I already saw you as some dickish rich kid and that gave me another reason to stay the fuck away from you. And now that I’m saying it out loud I realize how awful it sounds because people change, you know?”

“No, I get it. I’ve been an asshole, and I’m sure I still am—Dustin can attest to that—but there are rich assholes that don’t change or probably won’t ever change. I know a few of them.”

You go quiet again. Steve doesn’t want you to stop talking. He’s starting to think he likes the sound of your voice.

“It’s good that you’re changing, Steve. I’m sorry I said you were such a dick.”

A breathy laugh leaves his throat. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m sorry for…everything.”

“Maybe we can make a truce or something. Start over. It’s not like we really know each other that well anyhow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s cool. Whatever you want.” He means that. He thinks he’d do whatever you wanted him to.

“Okay. Maybe we can just try and figure it out.”

“I’d like that,” Steve says. He stops himself from proclaiming that he wants to try and fix this with you. Because you’re listening to him. You’re not mad. He doesn’t want you to disappear on him after this.

You give him a small smile and he swears he might cry. Not that that feeling lasts.

“Hey!” Dustin is leaning down into the bus, hands clasped together. “I’m so glad we’ve got this handled, but we’ve got a code red, so let’s get this show on the road, yeah?”

————

June 1985

The door to the back room swings open, a frazzled boy rushing in. You drop your candy wrapper on the table, and Robin keeps talking about the girl that you missed coming in this morning. She was “such a babe.”

“Hello?” Steve stands in front of the both of you, hands on his hips. You have to fight back a laugh.

Your eyes find Steve’s immediately, and you swear they soften, but maybe you’re imagining it. You nudge Robin’s leg where your foot is propped up on one of the supports under her chair.

She stops flailing and looks up, seeing Steve’s hand raised where he’d been about to snap to get her attention. She quirks a brow. “Don’t you snap at me, Harrington! This is important shit.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Could you two come and help me? I’m dying out here!”

It’s one of the hottest days of the year, and Scoops has had a line since it opened at ten.

You look at your watch. “My shift doesn’t start for…fifteen minutes.” He rolls his eyes at you, though the gesture is void of any malice it could possibly hold.

“Yeah, well this is supposed to be my break, so get out there, Buckley!”

She stands, though she’s pouting. “Come on.”

“You took the job,” he says, shoving her through the door. Robin gives him a look that you can’t see, but you can practically feel it from across the small room.

Steve lets out an exaggerated sigh, ripping off the hat he’s been wearing and throwing it on the table in front of you.

You watch him rummage through a bag before he emerges from its depths with a banana and throws himself down in the chair across from you, lifting your leg up from where you’d moved it to occupy the seat Robin had abandoned. His hand is warm on the bare skin of your calf, and he shifts the chair some, laying your leg across both of his.

“Steve.”

“Huh?” He peels the banana, aggressively fast actually, and rips off a chunk, popping it into his mouth.

“Why do you have a banana?”

He meets your eyes. “Snack, duh.” He chews, and then gestures at the closed window. “Been working up a sweat out there I think I deserve a break.”

You grin at him, and he feels like he might hit the floor.

“Want some?” Steve pulls off a chunk and holds it out to you.

“Did you wash your hands?”

He gasps, mid-chew, and forces himself to swallow. “D-did I—yes, I washed my hands, mom, I’m not four.”

“Eh,” Robin’s voice breaks your little bubble. She’s pulled the window open–that way she can eavesdrop– propping herself up on her elbows.

That makes you laugh, and when you smile your cheek is full of banana and Steve swears something is breaking inside of him.

“Gang up on me then why don’t you,” he says, handing you the last piece he’s got left. He tosses the peel in the trash, “what do you want anyhow, Robin?”

“Your break is up, and her shift has started. Let’s get to slinging ice cream, shitheads!”

You wipe your hands on your shorts and hop up. Steve doesn’t move, just looks at you.

“C’mon, Steven. It’ll be lunch sooner than later.”

He grins. His eyes look tired and you wonder if he slept any last night. He told you once recently that he doesn’t always sleep well, that sometimes he has to listen to tapes in order to keep his head from being so busy, to keep the thoughts from being so loud.

Steve has told you a lot since last fall. There’s a significant bit more that you know that’s more than what he’s given Robin, but you know he’ll let her in. He just needs the time.

Though sometimes you think he might be giving you everything. The parts of himself he’s never shown anyone else. Because you’ve been such a good listener, and Steve’s never really had that before.

He wishes he had the balls to tell you more. But he can’t fuck it up this time. Not with you. You’re too good.

Steve is your best friend now. You know that. He knows it.

If yourself from a year ago could see you now, she’d probably knock your fucking teeth in. But he’s just so much more than you thought. You’re not sure you’ll ever forgive yourself for not thinking there could be more in him, though he’s told you not to be upset. You’ve told him the same when he berates himself for not having paid you more attention in school.

It’s the past. You can’t live there. And today, you’re scooping ice cream for pre-sticky kids, for shitty pay, but it doesn’t matter because you have him. You have Robin.

You stick out your hand, and Steve takes it without a second thought. His palm engulfs yours, skin warm and a little calloused.

“We can watch whatever you want tonight.”

He squeezes your hand. You and Robin are supposed to have a sleepover with him tonight. He suggested he sleep in a guest room and you two have his bed, but Robin said she needs to be cuddled. You said you’re not letting him sleep anywhere but his bed.

“I thought you wanted to watch Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”

“I always wanna watch that. But you can pick first, Stevie.”

Stevie. His stomach flips at that. You don’t let it out often, but when you do it’s like Steve might just die right there.

He straightens, deal clearly made, and you pull him up–not that you need to.

You push through the door with him, and immediately regret it. It’s like the soccer moms can smell your fear, and you know it.

“Breathe,” Steve says. “Dustin’s here.”

He is. The entire party. That you can deal with.

You think you could deal with an absurd line and angry mothers for the rest of your life if it meant assembling Dustin and Lucas’ weird orders. Even if you have to endure Will’s questioning looks and his pleas that you bring some ice cream home. If you have to listen to Robin’s word vomit.

If it meant spending time with Steve, you’d do it.

God, how shit changes.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

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lulublack90 · 2 months

Text

Prompt 21 - Attack

@jegulus-microfic February 21 Word count 962

Previous part First part

Regulus returned to the library to finish his book. It was gruesome, but he couldn’t leave it half-finished. He flipped the page to the next chapter and paused. Horcrux. The title read. He remembered seeing something mentioned about them before. They were a particular branch of dark magic that split the soul if the wizard committed a murder, allowing the killer to place a shard of their soul into an object.

There wasn’t much on them in this text, so he spent the next few days pouring through multiple tombs, checking references and extracts.

Finally, he found what he was searching for. The page lay open before him, the only illustration he’d ever seen depicting a wizard who had split his soul. The wizard’s skin had an odd, lifeless quality to it. His eyes glinted red, and his hairline had clearly receded. This was it. This was what he’d been missing.

He felt heat radiate from his pocket. He pulled himself away to answer James’s call. He flicked the mirror open and revealed James’s stressed face.

“There’s been an attack.” James started speaking immediately. He didn’t even say hello. "It’s Sirius. He’s in a bad way. They took Remus.” Regulus felt the air bleed out of him as he struggled to control his emotions. “He’s going to be fine.” James carried on. “He hasn’t let Remus out of his sight, sticking close to him. We warned him he’d get hurt, but he’s stubborn.”

“Can I see him?” Regulus’s cracked voice whispered. James’s eyes filled with pity.

“I don’t think they’ll allow that, love. He’s in a safe house. They won’t even let me go without prior consent.”

The wards around Grimmauld Place reacted to someone trying to get in. He could feel the magic tugging at him.

“I have to go, James. Someones here. Tell—tell Sirius—tell him I’m sorry.”

“I will. Stay safe, Reg.” Regulus quickly shut the mirror and stuffed it into the secret pocket in his robes.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Evan and Barty standing there.

“Fucking finally!” Barty grumbled. “I’m freezing my bollocks off here!” Regulus didn’t respond just let the door swing open more and stepped back to allow them to enter. He didn’t say anything until they were securely in the house.

“Why are you here?” He asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Aww, aren’t you happy to see us? Evan, I don’t think he loves us any more, now that pretty boy’s back in his life.” Regulus turned his attention to Evan and raised an eyebrow.

“We’ve come to drop off the new information we’ve collected. We thought it would be better in person rather than sending it via owl.” Regulus nodded.

“Yes, you’re right. Voldemort placed charms around the house, preventing owls and patronuses from entering. I doubt he’s removed them. It’s definitely safer to be here in person. Shall we go up to the library?

He listened to them relay the information they’d gathered. He wrote everything down in the notebook. Once they were done, he spelled it so the writing disappeared.

Evan and Barty settled in. They’d have to be here for a few hours to avoid suspicion. Regulus had a question that had been niggling at the back of his mind since the last time he’d seen them.

“So,” He started, “Lily Evans?” He didn’t need to say more. Evan and Barty had gone pale and glanced uneasily at each other.

“What about her?” Evan cleared his throat nervously.

“I saw her sneaking into Pandora’s room as I left the other night. How long has that been going on?”

“Erm,” Evan looked at Barty again as they silently decided how much to tell him. “Since school. They had to keep it secret for obvious reasons.” Regulus nodded. He was well aware of the implications of a Slytherin and a Gryffindor dating with the way things had been and still were. He left it at that. Perhaps he’d ask more from Pandora the next time he saw her.

He pulled his book towards him and turned it towards Evan and Barty.

“I’ve been glancing through a few of the texts in here over the last week. I found something interesting. Please have a look at this and tell me what you think. Does it remind you of anyone?

Barty and Evan peered at the yellowed pages and the faded illustration.

“Yeah, looks like ole mouldy Voldy. Barty cackled, looking at Regulus for his reaction.

“That’s actually pretty accurate.” Regulus laughed under his breath. “These are the effects on the body after creating three Horcruxes.”

“Shit, you don’t think?” Evan gasped. Barty was uncharacteristically quiet and paler than usual once the information sunk in.

“So—So you’re saying that if he has created Horcruxes. Then he’s made more than three? That’s a lot, right? I mean, he looks insane. It’s way more than three.” Barty was tapping his fingers against his jiggling leg. Regulus nodded.

“I think we found the missing piece as to why he’s so far been unstoppable. He is by all rights immortal.”

“So, what do we do about it? Pretend we never started helping the Order and just slink back into the fold?” The fear was evident in Barty’s whole demeanour. Evan put a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he quietly looked to Regulus for his answer.

“No, we continue listening and gathering information. If he’s created Horcruxes, he has to be hiding them somewhere. Someone must know where they are and what they are.” He straightened his back more than it already was, his resolve firmly in place. “We will be careful, act as we normally do. Carry out orders as we usually would, and at the same time, we start searching.”

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coolepowersthings · 10 months

Text

Always Girl

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N and Benedict have been best friends since college. Every year, they watch romcoms together on Valentine’s Day. But this year might not go as planned… modern au

Warnings: NSFW 18+, sexual content, consensual sex.

Authors Note: Apparently, once every few years I manage to finish a story lol. I’ve become obsessed with Bridgerton, especially one Mr. Benedict Bridgerton, so here’s a lovely modern au for you where Ben and his best friend come to terms with some long-simmering feelings. Mostly, a reason to write some Benedict smut. Would love to hear your thoughts! Comments, likes, reblogs, and messages all appreciated!

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She looks in the mirror on her wall and repeats it again. Like a mantra: it wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She had to stop it from being like this.

Y/N flops back on her pillow and sighs. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, and yet here she was, another Valentine’s Day, pining after her best friend.

She glances at the clock. Said best friend would be here in about fifteen minutes (which for him meant probably closer to half an hour, if she was lucky and he hadn’t lost himself in a painting) so she had just enough time to pull herself together. The only good thing about this wretched holiday was that she and Benedict always spent it together. The tradition had started in university. She and Benedict had met first term and, after a rocky start involving a misplaced biology textbook, had become close friends. When February rolled around, it became clear that Valentines Day was kind of a capital T “Thing” for him.

***

“I just don’t get the hype!” he had said to her one day over lunch after the girl he was seeing that week asked him what his plans were for February 14th. “It’s one day, where you’re supposed to, what, declare your undying love for whoever you’re with at the moment, lavish them with ridiculous gifts, and watch cheesy romance movies?”

“First of all, you just used the word ‘lavish’ in a sentence. Second, you know the relationship won’t be making it to next week, so you can’t be bothered,” she’d said, pointing her fry at him in mock accusation before popping it into her mouth.

He scowled at her. She loved Benedict to death, but he was something of a flirt. And a bit of a man whore. She’d known him all of six months and already had lost count of the woman he had dated.

“I’ll admit, though, I do like the cheesy romance movie part. But I just want to watch them with a pizza and maybe some chocolate I buy for myself. I could do without the rest of it.”

“Yes!” Benedict had said. “That’s exactly what we’ll do!”

“I’m sorry, what’s exactly what who will do?”

“You and me. On Friday. Bad romcoms. Pizza.”

“And you think your current girl will go for that?”

“Darling, why would I spend valentines with my current girl if I can spend it with my always girl instead?” he said with a smirk.

***

Now, as her doorbell rings, she knows what she’ll find on the other side. Benedict, grinning at her, holding a box of chocolates and a bottle of red wine.

“Happy Valentines, always girl,” he says handing her the box of candy. “For the special lady in my life, I’ve brought a box of dark chocolate salted caramels, and a bottle of the cheapest red wine known to man.”

“You charmer!” She says, examining the bottle and pretending that his words have no effect on her. “This is literally just called ‘Red Blend.’ They couldn’t even be bothered to name their wine?”

“Names cost,” he chuckles, taking the bottle back from her and heading into the kitchen. “Besides,” he yells from the other room, “there’s a heart on the label. See? So, it’s on theme!”

She heard the clinking of him pulling glasses out of the cupboard, but she still was not prepared for the sliver of skin she sees when she turns the corner, his t-shirt riding up as he reaches, showing her a glimpse of his back. Not that she hasn’t seen his skin before – she had seen him fully shirtless in their years of friendship, but the feeling of longing in her gut still caught her off-guard if she wasn’t expecting it. Her stomach clenching, her face getting warm. She clears her throat as he opens the bottle.

“Well, we are nothing if not on theme,” she says brightly, pulling her hair up into a bun on top of her head in an effort to distract herself from the way her body was betraying her. “I mean, what could be more valentines themed than this outfit?”

He glances up at her from pouring the wine and smirks. In an attempt to not overdo it, she had gone with her normal movie watching attire – a t-shirt and yoga pants.

“Dazzling, as always darling.”

He hands her a glass and takes a sip of his own. “Oh,” he winces. “That is truly awful.”

She chuckles.

“You know, our tastes have really improved since undergrad. As, may I add, have our salaries. I know you always wanted to be a ‘starving artist,’ but you have managed your way out of that by being wildly successful. We could consider improving the wine for tonight.”

He gasps in mock horror.

“And not follow tradition? You’d never forgive me. So, what do you have in mind for us today?”

“Um.” she stutters, for just a second.

What her mind wanted them to be up to and what she knew he meant were two different things. She clears her throat and tries again.

“Oh, I have some throwback classics that I think you’ll enjoy,” she says sweetly.

This was the agreement. He brought the terrible wine, and she picked out the cheesy movies. They tried not to repeat movies they had watched on past Valentines Days, but that was getting harder for two reasons. One, because they had been friends forever, and the more years they did this, the less options they had. And two, because she had done her best to avoid one specific, horrifyingly common, romcom trope: friends to lovers. Especially if the movie included long-standing-best-friends to lovers. This year, though, she didn’t have a choice. One of the movies was going to include best friends realizing they were in love with each other. Her options had been that or dredging into truly terrible D grade romcoms. And honestly, while they often poked fun at the ridiculous storylines and over-the-top climatic moments of these films, she genuinely enjoyed watching them, especially with Ben. So, she didn’t want to cheapen it to the worst of the worst. She wanted something actually pleasant to watch.

“Excellent. Que us up then, I’ll order the pizza.”

Ninety minutes later, they had finished their first movie, half the pizza, and a whole bottle of wine.

“Mmm, I liked that one,” she hums, riding the romcom happy ending high.

“I could tell,” he laughs. “You threw a pillow at my head when I suggested that the setup for their romance wasn’t very realistic.”

“Yes, well, don’t forget that I have another pillow right here if I need to do it again.”

“You would never.”

“Don’t pretend you know what I would or would not do, Mr. Bridgeton. I have hidden depths.”

“Darling,” he says. “I have known you forever, I’m pretty sure I know everything about you. And I know, without a doubt, that you would never give up your last pillow during a movie marathon.”

“You don’t know everything,” she says. And then quickly, “For example, you don’t know that what we are about to watch next is one of my all-time favorite movies.”

He quirks a brow.

“Really? A favorite? I didn’t think we had any of those left. I’m surprised you had the willpower to hold off on it until now.”

“Oh, I have willpower like you’d never believe,” she mutters, clicking over to the next film.

The opening of When Harry Met Sally starts playing on the screen.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, it’s this one. I guess you’re right, we haven’t watched this, have we.”

“You’ve seen it right?”

“Of course. It may be the only Meg Ryan movie that doesn’t make me want to die.”

“Rude!” she says. “She is a romcom treasure! And you made it through her other movies unscathed.”

“Barely!”

“Oh, shh it’s starting.”

They sit in companionable silence as the movie moves on, Meg Ryan and Billy Chrystal bantering back and forth. They get to the scene where Sally orders her food in a completely ridiculous way and Ben chuckles.

“God, she reminds me of you,” he says.

“What, terribly difficult? Complicated? Impossible for most men to love?”

“No! No, she knows what she wants. She refuses to settle.”

“I’m flattered, I guess. But that’s not really me at all, you know.”

“Well, it definitely is when you’re ordering at a restaurant,” he smirks at her. But then it turns into a softer smile, something she can’t quite identify behind his eyes. “And honestly, when it comes to dating, you are so, so brave.”

“Stop!”

“You really are! You never stay with men who don’t deserve you. You’re not afraid to go after what you want, rather than staying stagnant in something safe. That’s brave. And not easy.”

“But I don’t go after what I want,” she breaths out. “Not really. I…I’m just not willing to stay with idiots.” She stares at her fingers, which are playing with a thread on the couch pillow she’s holding close, afraid she’s said too much, but somehow not able to stop. “But I’m not willing to go after what I really want, either. I’m not that brave.”

When she chances a look up at him, there is something in his face. It’s soft and sweet. She had expected him to poke fun at her, to say something about how maybe she shouldn’t start off by dating idiots and then it wouldn’t be an issue. But instead, she finds him leaning closer to her, his eyes serious.

“Well, you should go after it. What you want, I mean. You’re brilliant, y/n. And funny and smart. Any man would be lucky to have you.” And then his wide smile is back, the glint in his eye returned. “And I would know, as I’ve been your friend for ages and I have excellent taste.”

She snorts, looking away, trying to diffuse the heavy tension she feels sitting in her chest at his kind words, the way he’s leant towards her, his subtle scent, all fresh and clean with a hint of oil paint and something woodsy underneath.

“You forget that I’ve seen the women you go for,” she says. “And frankly, your taste is questionable.”

They both chuckle and turned back to the film.

“So mean,” he says.

“I tease because I love,” she says.

Then she freezes for just a second. She and Ben tell each other they love each other constantly – as friends, of course. But tonight has seemed so weighted somehow, that she’s worried she has stepped too far. A glance at Ben tells her he’s looking at her again, smiling.

***

When they get to arguably the most famous scene of the movie, y/n nearly spits out her wine, which would have been a shame, since they had moved on to a decent bottle from her own cupboard. She had somehow forgotten about this part and, while she had watched a lot of love scenes over the years with Benedict, this one feels more intimate, somehow, even though the people in question are fully clothed, in a diner.

As she watches Meg Ryan continue to imitate an orgasm, her cheeks flush and she tried very hard not to move. It will be impossible for Ben not to make some comment about this part, and she wasn’t sure she was up to joking about it, given the amount of wine she had consumed and the rush she was already feeling this evening. She wasn’t sure why tonight it was harder to ignore the pull she felt towards him, the warmth of his arm, slung along the back of the couch - not behind her, but close enough to make her want to snuggle into him. But what he says is not what she expected.

“I don’t know how he doesn’t just lunge across that table,” he says, lowly, almost as if he was talking to himself.

“What do you mean?”

She turns to look at him and realizes he’s already looking at her, not at the screen. His eyes are darker than normal, his arm seems suddenly tense behind her.

“I mean, that if a woman I loved showed me how beautiful she could be in the throws of passion, even if I knew she was faking it, there is no way I could just stay where I was. I would need her to know. I would need to show her what she had been missing, what she could have for real.”

She feels her whole face, completely on fire. She’s thought about Ben plenty. About what it would be like to be with him. But to hear him talking about it, in his low, smooth voice, all she can think about is what he could do, with his hands, his tongue…she shivers involuntarily.

“Just, promise me you don’t play this stupid game, do you? You’re too good for that, I hope you know. No man’s ego is worth it. I just – “

“Ben,” she says, suddenly finding her voice and cutting him off. “Stop. I can’t – I don’t want to talk about this.” She tries to make her voice sound light, but when she hears it she knows it’s anything but.

“No! No, tell me you don’t?”

“Of course I don’t. I’d never fake it. But…but it does make for some awkward encounters.”

“Awkward encounters?”

“Don’t pretend you can’t imagine what happens when a woman doesn’t get off? Men have a way of convincing themselves they are the best at sex, and if you in any way make them feel like they’re not…it doesn’t always go great.”

“But that’s the point, isn’t it? You shouldn’t have to pretend, and they should make sure you’re satisfied.”

“Ben,” she looks at him, seriously. “Come on. You have got to know that it is not always that easy. For some women, it’s tricky. I’m just saying, it can cause tension, when things are new.”

Ben scoffs. “Not for me. I would never leave a woman to feel like she had to fake it.”

“You know who you sound like right now, right?” she says, pointing to the television. “You sound like Harry.”

“It’s different. He’s sure a woman has never faked it with him. I make sure she never feels like she has to with me.”

“First sexual encounters are rarely the best.”

“Maybe. But I would make sure it was good. Even if it can’t be the best.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“Well that we can agree on.”

“Women’s bodies are different.”

“I would never presume to know a woman’s body better than she does.”

“What?”

“I would ask her. What she likes,” he says, his voice still low, his eyes intent on her. “If she wasn’t happy, I would ask her to show me. I would never pretend like I know everything.”

Her heart is beating so fast, she feels like it might burst from her chest. Hearing him talk about this is too much. He’s so close, closer, somehow, than he had been moments ago. Had she moved towards him? Had the sound of his voice caused her to shift even closer to him? God, this was embarrassing. She goes to sit up straighter, away from him, but he catches her wrist, gently, and keeps her where she is.

“I would never let any woman go unsatisfied. But I absolutely, without a doubt, would never let you go unsatisfied.”

She feels like all the air has left her body.

“Ben,” she barely whispers.

“Please,” he says. “Please tell me that you haven’t been letting immature boys treat you poorly all this time, when I could have been taking care of you.”

All she can do is shake her head and look down, trying to pull herself out of the depth of his eyes. What was happening? Was Ben coming on to her? Did he know how she felt? No, no he was just worried about her. He thought she was brave, that she went for what she wanted, and she had admitted that wasn’t always the case. Ben was nothing if not someone who was comfortable with sex, and so talking about this would not be a big deal to him. He was just concerned. Trying to take care of her, as always. But not in the way she thought. Not in the way she wanted.

“I know it’s been a while since I’ve been in a relationship, Ben. But I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can, if you want to. But if that’s not what you want. If you want someone else – “

“It’s not your job to take care of me, Ben. Not like that.”

“I know it’s not but, what if I want it to be.”

Her eyes fly back up to his.

“Please,” he says, moving his hand to cup her cheek now, his face impossibly closer to hers. “Please let me take care of you. Like I want to. Like I’ve always wanted to.”

She doesn’t think she could respond if she tried.

He pauses and looks at her, searching for an answer in her eyes. He must have found what he was looking for, because suddenly he’s there, so close to her, whispering her name.

And then, his lips are on hers.

It starts out sweet, tentative. He was giving her plenty of time to push him away, to say no. But the moment his tongue slides against her mouth, she opens for him without hesitation, and he starts to kiss her in earnest, exploring her mouth with his own. They are all teeth and tongues, and damn, why had they waited so long to do this? She pushes herself closer to him, and he grasps her waist, pulling her up until she is straddling him on the sofa. She feels him, hard against her. Her hands go to his hair and his slide down, cupping her ass through the thin fabric of her leggings. A moan leaves his throat, and she wants to swallow every sound he makes, wants to taste it, to feel the vibrations of him through her body.

His hands move up her back and into her hair, tugging on it lightly as his lips leave hers to trail kisses down her neck. She can’t help the sound that leaves her as he finds the sensitive spot just above her collarbone.

“Fuck,” he whispers, almost reverently, before attaching his lips to the spot again, making her keen. “How can this feel so good when all I’ve done is kiss you?”

Something about his words make her stop and pull his face up to look at her.

“Ben,” she breaths out. “Ben, what are we doing?”

Her question seems to snap him out of the haze.

He looks at her with complete sincerity and says, “I’m so sorry. I should have asked. Do you want this? Do you want this with me? Because if not, we will stop, right now. I would never want to make you uncomfortable – “

“No, Ben, I do want this.”

She can’t help but smile shyly at the relieved look on his face as she says it. Sweet Ben, of course he was worried about her consent. He was a gentleman through and through.

“But that’s not what I meant. I meant, what are we, me and you, doing. Is this, are you…”

She can’t find the words to ask what she wants to - no, what she needs to know. Was this because he wanted her, wanted more with her? Was this a one-time thing for him? Proof that he would take care of her, always, even physically, if that’s what she needed?

Ben tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and keeps looking at her.

“I want this with you,” she lowers her eyes, unable to look at him. “I have wanted this, with you. For a long time. I don’t even know when I started to but…I need to know what you want. What this is for you. Because I…”

“Love,” he says, lifting her face up to look at him again. “Listen to me. I want you. You, Y/N. Here and now. And tomorrow, assuming you don’t kick me out of your bed or freeze me to death, because you are such a blanket hog. I want to wake up next to you, and make coffee, and bicker about what constitutes breakfast, and finally make you stop talking with my mouth on your lips, on your neck, on your body, until we both forget what we were fighting about in the first place. I want to make love to you on every soft surface in this room, and then fuck you against the kitchen counter when you’re trying to cook dinner, because I just cannot wait to be touching you again.”

Her face is on fire now, her whole body on alert, attuned to him. A hot ball of need pulsing at her core, just from his words. And that’s it. Benedicts words are her final undoing, and she lungs forward and presses her lips back to his, fervent, no questions or uncertainty swirling in her head now, just unbridled need and want and a feeling she isn’t ready to name urging her on.

He matches her intensity, kissing her fiercely, biting at her lip, her throat, the exposed part of her collarbone, pushing her t-shirt down her shoulder to get to more of her. His hands roaming up her back, into her hair, holding her steady against him.

“Ben, I…” she starts, but her words leave her as his mouth moves to her breasts, biting at her through her thin t-shirt. His hands move down to her waist, his fingers slipping under the hem of the fabric, lifting it up as they move over her ribs. She reaches for it and pulls the shirt over her head with one swift movement, wanting less between them. A needy hum sounds in Ben’s throat and he leans forward, kissing and nuzzling between her breasts, his hands reaching around her to unclasp her bra and pull it away from her skin. She gasps, her breasts exposed to him for the first time, her nipples pebbling, hard and taut and waiting. He palms the fullness of her in his large hands, and then takes a nipple into his mouth. Licking, biting, making her writhe on his lap from the feel of his tongue, with the way he sucks on her with his hot, wet mouth. He switches to her other breast, but keeps a hand on the first, his fingers twisting and pulling at her. It’s almost too much, how quickly he’s pushing her higher and higher in her need, but it also isn’t enough, not nearly.

As if he could hear her thoughts, his fingers start moving down her stomach, towards the waistband of her leggings.

“Wait,” she rasps, and he stills, his eyes looking to her for what she wants. What she needs.

“You’re still dressed,” she says, putting her hands on his chest, smoothing his shirt under her fingers.

He chuckles, and kisses her on the tip of her nose, before pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor.

“Better?” he asks, smirking at her, her fingers already roaming the expanse of his chest.

“Much.”

“May I?” he asks, his fingers trailing along the top of her leggings, not quite dipping under the fabric.

“Please, Ben,” she breathes out, and he makes a low sound in his throat.

“Fuck,” he says, his hands working under the fabric. “Never stop saying my name.”

And then his fingers are pushing her panties aside.

“So wet for me love,” he says, kissing up her neck, nipping at her ear, his fingers stroking, up and down along her slit, finally pushing up against her clit, rubbing it teasingly. She moves against him, searching for more friction, pushing herself forward, trapping his hand between her and his own length, straining against his jeans. He breathes out hard, moving his hand up so that he can feel more of the warm heat radiating from her core.

“I want to make this good for you, love. But if you keep grinding into me like that…” she pushes against him again.

“I’m not worried, Ben,” she says, breathily. “But I need you inside of me. Now.”

She grinds against him again, wanting to feel more of him. Wanting him inside of her.

“Fuck,” he says again, tightening his arms around her waste and lifting her up with him. “Bedroom. We need to get to the bedroom.”

While his hands are busy carrying her across the living room, she uses hers to explore the expanse of his chest, to slide over his shoulders, up his neck and into his hair, pulling lightly at it as her mouth follows behind on the same path, leaving kisses across his shoulders and up to his ear.

“If you keep doing that,” he whispers, and she can hear the smile in his voice, “I might drop you.”

“You would never,” she giggles, just as he sets her down on the side of the bed, stretching his body out over her.

She smiles. This is Ben, she thinks, her Ben. The funny, flirty man she’s known forever. He’s still the same person he’s always been, only now it’s so much more. He smiles back down at her, but then his face shifts as he presses her body into the mattress with his own.

“Pants. Off. Now,” she says, her hands finding their way to the button of his jeans, undoing the zipper and tugging at them. He straightens and pulls them down his waste, taking his boxers along with them.

“Holy shit, Ben,” she says, without even meaning to. His cock is ready and waiting, and my god, they are not supposed to be as appealing as his is to her. She has never had this kind of reaction before. She wants to take it in her mouth, to lick up his shaft and suck his head into her mouth and feel it in the back of her throat. She looks up at him, and he is looking away, suddenly blushing. Boyish and bashful, for just a minute. As if this, coming from her, has thrown him. And she remembers that this is new for him too – the two of them, like this. It lasts for only a moment, but it makes her heart ache.

“Look at me, Ben,” she says quietly. He meets her eyes, the smolder back in them now. “My god, you are the most amazing thing I have ever seen.” His mouth quirks.

“Isn’t that my line?” he says, teasing. Clearly deflecting her praise.

“No. No, I get to take care of you too now. And you need to know how perfect you are. How much I want you, just as much.”

And then his mouth is on hers again, hot and persistent, and his hands are back at her waist, pushing at the last of her clothing. She breaks away from the kiss and pushes at him to stand back so she can lift her hips and help him pull the leggings and panties down and off her.

“Holy shit,” he says. He’s mimicking her reaction to him, but from the look in his eyes, she’s not sure he even realizes it. And then he is back in her arms, kissing up her neck, biting at her ear. Whispering to her. “I’ve thought about you for so long. I’ve imagined what it would be like, to see all of you. For you to let me, to want me to. But my god, I could never have imagined how beautiful you would be.” He pushes against her, skin to skin for the first time, his hard length grinding against her core. They both hiss at the contact.

“Condom?” he rasps, and she points to the bedside drawer. She pulls herself farther up the bed as she watches him retrieve the condom and roll it down his shaft, then make his way back to her.

“Love,” he says, crawling between her thighs, his eyes on hers. “I want this to be perfect, but you have to tell me what you like, ok? If somethings not working, I need to know.”

She nods and pulls him down for a kiss, as he reaches down and angles himself into her, and then he is there, pushing inside, filling her.

“Fuck,” he says, lowly, seating himself fully inside her. “So warm and wet and perfect.”

“Oh,” she says, moaning as he starts to move inside her. She feels so full, and Ben is there, looking at her as he thrusts. Then he is kissing, nipping at every part of her he can reach. He pulls back, sitting up on his knees and watching the point where they are connected for just a moment before grabbing her hips and pulling her closer to him, angling upward as he lifts one of her legs up over her shoulder. He hits a spot inside her as he does, and her eyes shut.

“Fuck,” she says, trying to angle herself to the spot again.

“Their?” he asks, hitting the same angle again.

“Yes,” she says, “Fuck, yes, right there.”

He hits the spot again and she keens.

“But Ben, I –“ she starts to say, but loses her voice as his fingers, those gorgeous fingers that she has watched write, and paint, and hold the stem of a wine glass, are touching her again. Gently, at first, his thrusts slow and purposeful, in time with his hands as they stroke at her.

“I know,” he says. “I told you, I want to take care of you.”

She looks up and sees that he’s watching her, her reactions, her movements as he strokes. Then he looks up and catches her eyes, stilling.

“I’m going to make you come,” he says, voice husky. “But I need you to tell me if what I’m doing is good. If you’re getting close, if there’s something else you need.”

She nods, shakily. Just hearing him talk to her, in that voice, while he is inside of her, is doing things to her she can’t explain.

Then he is moving again, rocking into her body as he touches her, starting where their bodies are joined and moving up to her clit and circling there. Slower, than faster, building her up, the heat growing between them. It feels amazing and she loves all of it. But she’s not quite there. She’s never been good at asking for what she wants, what she needs.

“Tell me,” he says, kissing up the leg that he has over his shoulder.

“Talk to me,” she says. “I want to hear…” she can’t say exactly what she wants, but he understands.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he says. “Seeing you like this, naked, beneath me. I have thought about you in every fucking way, but none of it compares.”

She cannot help the sounds that come out of her now, whimpers when he pulls his fingers away from her clit, moans when he pushes them back up.

“Always so controlled, so collected for everyone else. I want this part of you. To see you lose all control. To watch you as you come, to feel you clench around my cock. I swear, I know already I’ll come with you, just from watching you, feeling you,” he moves his hand away, reaching for her own on the bed.

“Show me,” he says. She can hear the need in his voice. How hard he is trying to hold on to his own control. “Help me get you there love. I want to see what you like.” He pulls her hand with his own, back to where they are joined. Encouraging her movement with his fingers, following her lead. And then she is showing him, moving to her clit, rubbing and touching in the way that she knows will get her there. Her hips move, loving the friction, wanting more, desperate to mee his thrusts.

“Yes,” he praises. “Yes, fuck, so hot, so wet, so good.”

She pushes harder, feels him everywhere, inside her, around her. She is coiled so tight, about to snap. Then he turns his head, bites gently into her calf, and she is gone, crying out as waves of pleasure move through her body, tensing and arching and unable to stop.

“Fuck, yes,” he says, grasping at her hips now, canting his own, faster into her as she rides out the high. “I’m going to come so hard inside of you, fuck, I can’t –“ but then his body goes rigid, his cock pulsating inside of her, he says her name as he buries himself once more, riding out his own pleasure.

They both breath hard, slick and sweaty against each other, his head in the crook of her neck, his body over hers, holding his weight off her shakily.

“I..” she says, “that was, I didn’t know…”

He chuckles as he leaves light kisses on her collarbone, across her shoulder.

“Shh,” he whispers. “I’ve got you, love. I told you I would take care of you.”

He lifts his face to look into her eyes, sweeps the hair off her forehead.

“I’ve always got you, my always girl."

#bridgerton smut #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #friends to lovers #mutual pining

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zoeykallus · 1 year

Note

Hi Zoey,

Thank you so much for your head cannons.☺️ Our Queen of Head cannons! Anyway today has been kinda a bad day for me; and since your stories have always cheered me up. Some backstory so you can understand what I’m asking: when I have bad days I have a hard time forcing myself to eat. Would you be willing to write a hc about it. That would be wonderful if you would. Gn character with bad batch and anyone else you would like to write with it.😇🤗 Thank you! Even you don’t write it that’s ok.

Aloha! First off, I have to apologize for taking so long. This request dates back to February 😨

Apart from requests piling up, the time between January and April was hard on me. Sorry! Enough with the excuses, let's get to work...

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Take Better Care Of Yourself

Warnings: Suggested Eating Disorder

__________________________

Hunter

As patient as he can be, he doesn't like it when you neglect yourself. Especially when he perceives it repeatedly, he intervenes. "I know you're not feeling very well right now, but you need to keep up your strength". You can argue or whine back and forth all you want, you see Hunter standing in front of you, arms crossed in front of his chest, brows drawn together critically. He won't listen to any excuses. He doesn't want to grumble, and he knows you're not really doing it on purpose, but from his life with his brothers, he only knows the path of severity in situations like this. "Eat at least half, I don't want you to pass out on us here," he finally growls, also making sure you do just that. He takes you aside later, massages your shoulders and talks to you gently, trying to relax you and bring you to other thoughts, hoping that he can drive away the gloomy thoughts and maybe stimulate your appetite again. He will leave no stone unturned to help you.

Echo

He can't take a joke when it comes to food, especially since he puts so much effort into preparing it. And Echo is a fantastic cook. When Wrecker is already reaching for your portion because you're not eating again, Echo slaps him on the wrist. "'Stop that! That's not your plate." "But-" Echo's critical, stern look makes the giant fall silent, pouting. You can't help but feel guilty, Echo has a knack for just looking at you and making you feel guilty about food or generally how well you take care of yourself. However, Echo also knows that he can't force you to do anything and might even make things worse. Instead, he'll prepare a picnic basket filled with all sorts of things you like best and arrange to whisk you away to one of your favorite places together at the earliest opportunity, hoping to stimulate an appetite there. He'll also take you up on that food problem. "How can I help you? What can I do to make you feel better, love?"

Wrecker

At first, he doesn't think much of it. There are rare moments when he loses his appetite, but he has already experienced with his brothers that this can happen. He gladly accepts the extra portion you offer him. But he notices that this pattern repeats itself, and he starts to worry. "You can have my portion too." Wrecker frowns, you see his expression suddenly look worried. "Again? Aren't you hungry?" "Not really," you admit. Wrecker seeks advice from his brothers before discussing the problem with you. He tries everything possible to stimulate your appetite. He gets your favorite snacks, creates a special ambiance, takes you hiking to make you hungry, gives you relaxing massages. Wrecker has no shortage of ideas. Wrecker wants you to be healthy and happy, he makes it his mission to make sure you have everything you need. In this, he is very persistent and lovingly determined.

Tech

The first few times, Tech doesn't say anything, but he notices and makes mental notes. In fact, he keeps a sort of mental log of all your mannerisms and things you do, among other reasons, to better understand you. Finally, you do it again, leave the food, and Tech looks up from his datapad. "You have an eating disorder." Surprised, you look at him. "What?" "Your strange behavior, regarding your food intake, indicates that you have an eating disorder. To be honest, that worries me greatly," he says matter-of-factly, pushing his goggles with his index finger and examining your body with his gaze. He explains to you in gruesome detail how this can affect your health, what diseases and disabilities can be triggered by the lack of certain essential nutrients over time, how they show up, the symptoms, and the less-than-pleasant end results. Tech doesn't hold back on this, even though he sees you squirming. He thinks it's extremely important that you're aware of any consequences. "Perhaps we should consider therapeutic measures before it gets to a point where we may be left with invasive, medical options. Force-feeding, is probably extremely uncomfortable." He may seem very matter of fact and maybe even cruel, but Tech is worried, he is approaching this in such a logical, almost clinical way because that is his way, that doesn't change the fact that underneath the matter of fact facade sits an anxious Tech who is in agony out of fear of seeing you suffer or even losing you. Communicate with him, tell him what is bothering you, what exactly is preventing you from eating. Give him the opportunity to work with you to find a way to address this problem.

Crosshair

He is very attentive and notices your eating behavior immediately. "You're not one of those who stuff themselves with food when no one's looking and then puke it back out, are you?" You look at him in surprise. "What?" Sourly, he says, "I swear, if I catch you doing that then-" Crosshair interrupts himself, he doesn't really know what to threaten you with himself, basically he's just worried and can't really handle it. He's going to ask his brothers and get information elsewhere to find out what he can do. Crosshair wants you to be well, even though it may not seem that way at first. He is not angry at you, but at the helplessness he is pushed into in this situation. It will take a while, but he is adjusting and doing his best to accommodate you helpfully. He will leave no means untouched, whether they are interpersonal, therapeutic, or otherwise medical.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@starwarsnerd111

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quinns-shadowy-arts · 3 months

Text

Let Me Take Care of You

Day 1 of @steddielovemonth's February prompts aka Steddie Love Month! Rating: Mature CW: None Tags: Getting Together, Caring Steve Harrington, Post Season 4, AU- Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Making-out. WC: 1,039 Prompt: “Love is letting someone take care of you” submitted by: @starryeyedjanai

Note: This is my first time uploading my writing! This is also my first ever post to Tumblr, so sorry if there's any mistakes or weird formatting! This definitely isn’t the best thing I’ve written, but it has been a really long time since I’ve written something. So I’m still proud of it!

Steve and Eddie have been seeing each other a lot since March. After Vecna was killed, molotov cocktails blazing, and guns ringing out in triumph; Steve had pulled Eddie out of the Upside Down with his own two hands. He carried Eddie on his back to the Harrington house, where he nourished Eddie back to health. Steve spent everyday with Eddie, taking care of him. Restitching his wounds when Eddie ripped them back open, washing his hair with expensive shampoos and hair masks, and catering to Eddie’s every need while he slowly restored his body back to something more functional. Point is, Steve and Eddie spend a lot of time together.

It didn’t stop once Eddie was out of recovery. Steve still kept him in his home. Even after the government scrambled to repent for their negligence by giving the Munson’s a brand new trailer, Steve still dropped by to see Eddie.

That’s where they are now, in the new trailer watching a movie. Eddie picked out the movie, but he isn’t really paying attention. He is fiddling with the loose threads of his pants and tossing the occasional glance to Steve. Steve is paying attention to the movie, as far as Eddie can tell. Steve’s eyes are reflecting the light of the TV, the smile lines around his eyes deepen whenever he laughs at a dumb joke, his chest is rising with every breath; Steve looks good. He looks better than good, he looks dazzling. Eddie wants to jump him. He wants to crawl down the couch and onto Steve’s lap; to look into his eyes and make him smile for different reasons.

“Hey, you good man?” Steve asks, and maybe Eddie’s glances weren’t that occasional.

“Yeah sorry, just sorta- zoned out” Eddie smiles back.

“Are you sure? You haven’t been watching the movie that much. Have you been getting sleep?” Steve persists and Jesus Christ- he is so caring. He cares for everyone around him, the kids, Robin, Eddie; anyone in Steve's life is sure to never feel disregarded.

“Yeah, better than usual I think.” Eddie says. But then Steve slides over and wipes a tear off of Eddie’s face. He hadn’t even realized he was tearing up.

“Eds, you’re crying. What’s wrong?” Steve’s eyebrows furrow in concern. Eddie wants to kiss it away, to ease Steve the way Steve eases him back to comfort.

“It’s nothing man, don’t worry about it” Eddie mumbles. He would never be able to tell him. Steve has already seen him at his worst; bloody and oozy from still healing wounds, crying after a bad nightmare, naked and wet from the shower; but he couldn’t know that his best friend was crying from how lovey dovey he felt. Eddie couldn’t let Steve know about his mushy gushy feelings.

“Eddie, please tell me what’s wrong. Is anything hurting?” Steve looks at Eddie with big eyes and his brows furrow impossibly further. Eddie doesn’t want S to be so concerned over nothing. Maybe he can tell him why he’s all teary eyed.

“You just care so much, man. You give so much without anything in return. You always ask to make sure I’m ok, and you always haul the gremlins everywhere even though you know they won’t be paying you back for anything. I just want-” Eddie hesitates,

“I want to give you something in return. You make me feel so safe and cared for, I want to give that back to you.” Eddie finishes. Steve’s eyebrows raise in slight shock and blush begins to form on his cheeks.

“You don’t have to do anything for me, Eds. I take care of you because I want to, not because I want something in return.” Steve whispers. .

“But I want to give you something too, Stevie” Eddie looks into Steve’s eyes. They sit in silence, looking into each other's eyes. Eddie looks down first, he doesn’t mean to. He looks at Steve’s lips, they’re full and a beautiful apricot color.

S looks down once he notices where Eddie’s eyes have gone. He licks his lips without thinking about it. He sways forward slightly, maintaining eye contact with Eddie’s lips. Eddie wobbles forward in response, now they’re only a few inches apart. Eddie can feel Steve’s breath on his face. He so desperately wants to move forward, to connect their lips and let Steve know how he feels. But he’s scared. His heart is quickening its pace.His breath shortens in anticipation.

Steve moves in and their lips slot together. Eddie’s breath hitches;

‘Holy shit this is happening, Steve likes me? He’s kissing me holy shit holy shit holyshit-” And then he wasn’t.

“Sorry, you were looking at me and I thought that maybe you like me and you probably didn’t want that and I-” Steve rushes out, Eddie cuts him off by kissing him. He was too anxious and caught up in the moment to move before, but he wasn’t messing this up again.

Eddie moves his lips against Steve’s. He moves his hands up and onto Steve’s knee. He really wants Steve to know how much he likes him. Steve moves his hands up Eddie’s arms and onto his jaw. He kisses back with fervor.

Emboldened by Steve’s response, Eddie runs his hands up from Steve’s knee and into his hair. His rings catch onto some of Steve’s locks. Steve gasps at the tug of the metal,

“Eddie-” Steve moans

“Fuck, Stevie, I know” Eddie groans back. Eddie moves his hands back down to Steve’s shoulders. He pushes Steve backwards and into the back of the couch. Steve goes willingly, shifting his hips back to give Eddie space. Eddie throws his leg over Steve’s lap. He feels Steve’s dick rub against his ass as he fully sits his weight down. Steve exhales, a whine slipping past his lips.

Eddie pulls back and looks into Steve’s eyes. They’re lidded and looking back at Eddie. The apricot of Steve’s lips have bloomed into a rosy color. They’re slick with spit and slightly parted. Steve’s chest heaves and his lips slide into a small smile. Looks like Eddie accomplished one of his goals, now for the more pressing one;

“Let me take care of you, Stevie.”

#steddie fanfic #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddielovemonth #first post #steve harrington #eddie munson #hopefully this isnt too bad!

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periantari · 21 days

Text

Of Darkness and Hope

“Come now, is the dream that bad? Please talk to me,” Éowyn gathered Faramir in his arms and willed him to consciousness. Sweat had gathered and Faramir looked disoriented briefly but smiled to see Éowyn next to him. Éowyn placed a handkerchief to wipe away the sweat from his raven hair and stroked Faramir’s back comfortingly.

It was a bad night in which nightmares returned. It was the anniversary of Boromir’s passing and even though Faramir claimed he was alright, he did not speak, was silent the whole day and kept his distance, locking himself in his study during the day and retreating from Éowyn. The night before, he would dream every few hours, and Eowyn tried her hardest to comfort him and have him open up. At first Faramir was withdrawn and Éowyn feared the Black Breath had returned since Faramir was also cool on his shoulder area, but Éowyn had athelas handy and it proved useful to bringing him to the present . Éowyn also made sure there were some warm cloths to warm up Faramir. She took care to make sure Faramir was alright though she knew he would be loath to say he was otherwise.

“Here, have some tea, my dearest.” Éowyn made sure the tea wasn’t too hot to guide it to her husband’s lips. Faramir sat up to receive some of the tea.

“Thank you,” said Faramir quietly. “I am sorry to alarm you, my love.” Faramir’s pulse had returned to normal and his eyes were clearer and not glazed. “Just…dreams…”

“Do you want to talk about your dreams?”

Faramir paused but then said in one breath, “Fire, and blood from the battle, and …Boromir’s corpse… in the middle of the Anduin and i… i… cannot save him.” He leaned into Eowyn and she firmly embraced him. “And my friends…and …father,” Tears gathered once more. He trembled and even though Eowyn had the fire up and burning, it still seemed too cool that February night. The fire only brought snatches of memory of almost being burnt alive. Faramir shivered with the memory once more.

“It is not your fault, please believe me,” said Eowyn, and she kissed him to bring him to the present and drew more blankets for him. “Stay present with me. We are here together. I know you loved Boromir and fellow soldiers. We will do our annual ritual trip to Parth Galen? We will also make sure to write to your friends’ families and see how they are.”

“Yes, that is a good idea- let’s do that tomorrow.” Faramir paused. “I’m sorry, Éowyn.”

“Why are you apologetic? I love you. I fear that it must be that the dark times come forth but we will see each other through,” Éowyn brought a handkerchief for Faramir’s tears. Tears had gathered in Eowyn’s own eyes. Éowyn had suffered dreams herself but hadn’t bothered Faramir about it. Her dark times would come as well in this season of darkness where it marked one year since the destruction of the Ring and the losses that came with it.

She feared to see Faramir this way and hoped he could see how valued and important he was . Aragorn had told Éowyn that he was invaluable as Steward and Prince of Ithilien as well as a dear friend to the king .

“As do I –thank you for being here for me.”

“I would not be with anyone else, and you’re mine to keep safe and happy.” Éowyn tried to keep Faramir’s spirits brighter- he had been so down the past day.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Faramir looked into Eowyn’s eyes in admiration and love. He held onto Eowyn’s hands. He just noticed he had stopped shivering.

“You are the best man of Gondor and Middle-earth and I am the one lucky to have you!” Eowyn kissed Faramir on the lips .

“We are both lucky,” Faramir then folded Éowyn to a huge embrace and kissed her back.

#fanfic #lotr #tolkien #love #lord of the rings #faramir #eowyn #ficlet #fanfiction

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finntheehumaneater · 3 months

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Hi, I'm just here to ask how you are. Sssh sssh sssh sssh, no, "fine" and "good" aren't answers poppet. No, really, how are you?

On another note, how's your script coming along? I recently wrote my first ever script, and I'm holding my breath, waiting for the marks to come back. It's linked to my children's story. My kids like both, so I don't really care too much about the examiners marks, but it would be nice for them to go it's not shit. As I lost 50% of my marks because I struggle speaking, this was conveyed, and they still made me do so and complained about my speaking abilities. It's shit, so I need to build the marks somewhere else.

Okay, ignore the side tangent. How has your writing been going? Are there any more boards you made for it?

I’m actually doing kind of better after just sitting and listening to music (and crying a bit lmao) last night. Also that and my cat just came over and demanded kisses lmao.

I think maybe I’ve been sad because my birthday is coming up next month (February 28th. And people make jokes like “oh, you were almost born in a leap day”. But like. The year I was born in wasn’t even a leap year.) and I don’t like the idea of getting older. Death kind of scares me even though I find it fascinating at the same time lmao.

It’s more of the thought that I might die before my birthday that’s making me upset. But then again I could die anytime so that fear is kind of irrelevant haha.

also the script is like…in progress? I haven’t actually started writing yet, but I have the episodes planned out and I explained the whole plot to a tumblr mutual (very poorly haha) so I have those messages screenshotted for reference for when I actually start writing the script.

And I’m kind of scared to write it. Like, I’m in high school, I’ve never done this before. I write depressing sapphic horror stories and the occasional fanfiction, I have no idea what I’m doing! I don’t think I’ll be that bad at it, I’m just worried it won’t turn out the way I want it to since most of my writing relies on heavy description and that might make the script read strangely :(

this is the description I gave the mutual because it explains the plot better than I can right now lmao I’m really tried right now :)

Sorry it’s so many photos lmao

Also it’s fucked up that you lost marks due to speaking issues. I stutter a lot when I talk and forget to say parts of sentences (I blame the autism lmao) so I feel you in a way :(

#Asks #Askahumaneater #⭐️

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auspicious-manner · 2 years

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Can you write about Dodge visiting the reader after she's had her tonsils removed?

as someone who has gotten their tonsils removed, i definitely could have used a dodge in my life when i was recovering 🤧 also sorry this took so unbelievably long to get out, life has been so busy recently!

female reader x dodge

warnings: surgery

Before You Know It

•

Y/N’s senior year started off as strong as can be. she was mentally preparing for panic the next summer, she was only a year away from graduating, and she had just met her partner in crime; dodge mason.

her already high spirits were lifted even more when dodge arrived in carp. their personalities had clicked immediately, and it wasn’t long before their casual friendship turned into a mutual love. after a month of the new school year, Y/N and dodge began dating.

however, around winter of their senior year, Y/N’s positive mindset took a turn for the worst when she was constantly getting sick. the first time she got sick, dodge took care of her like he always did since her parents were rarely ever home. however, the second and third times getting sick in a matter of only three months began to be concerning for them. the fourth time was the breaking point.

on a cool morning in the middle of february, Y/N woke up with chills that were unrelated to the breezy air, and she felt the all too familiar pain in her throat. she immediately grabbed her phone on her nightstand and dialed dodge’s number.

dodge answered only a few rings later, groggy from just waking up. “hi Y/N, what’s up?”

“dodge, it’s happening again.”

there was a pause on the other end. “oh shit, really?”

“yeah,” Y/N started, cringing when she tried to swallow and her throat stung. “i think i have a fever too.”

“okay, i’ll be over soon. i-” dodge began before getting cut off.

“i don’t want you to have to take care of me. at this point, i’m more of your patient and less of your girlfriend. i feel bad making you come out here all the time, you have a life outside of taking care of me.”

“i seriously don’t mind. i hate seeing you in pain, and if i can help it i will. but, if you don’t want me coming over, i really do think i should take you to the doctor. i mean, there has to be something else wrong. this is your fourth time getting sick in four months, that’s not normal,” dodge replied.

Y/N sighed. “i agree, something’s not right. when will you be here?”

“give me fifteen minutes.”

“see you soon.”

Y/N put her phone down and laid back on her pillow. she didn’t even have the energy to get up and change out of her pajamas. after what seemed like only a few seconds, there was a knock at her door. she mustered up what little energy she had to get up and answer the door. when she did, dodge’s worried face was staring back at her.

“hey sweetie, how are you feeling?” he asked quietly.

Y/N’s tired eyes sent dodge a glare. “i feel like death.”

dodge held out his hand, and Y/N took it. he took her outside, and said, “let’s get you to the doctor.”

they got into dodge’s car, and he drove them to their nearest walk-in care center which was half an hour away. Y/N took a short power nap, and although dodge wanted to keep her awake to talk to her, he didn’t dare wake her. she desperately needed her rest.

when they arrived at the immediate care center, Y/N got herself checked in and before they knew it, her name was called and they travelled into the back rooms where the doctors were at.

she sat down in one of the chairs next to dodge after being assigned a room, and he took her hand in his. she wasn’t a fan of doctors offices, but with dodge next to her, she was comforted.

“so, what seems to be the problem?” the doctor asked, sitting down across from her.

“i think i have tonsillitis again, for the fourth time in four months. is there anything else we can do to prevent this from happening?” Y/N asked, a strain in her voice.

the doctor took a look at the glands in her neck, and looked down her throat.

he cringed. “oh yeah, you definitely have tonsillitis. given the amount of infections you’ve had recently, there’s not much more we can do besides surgery. it’s hard for us to give you stronger and stronger medications, because you’ll just grow a tolerance. if you get any more infections within the next few months, we’re going to have to get those tonsils out of you.”

her eyes widened, and dodge squeezed her hand a bit tighter. she was frightened of going in for yearly check ups, let alone surgeries.

the doctor prescribed her some medicine, and dodge drove Y/N home.

“dodge, i can’t have surgery. i’m not afraid of many things, but this i’m worried about,” she confided. dodge nodded in return.

“i know, i know you are. but you might not have another choice, Y/N. repeated infections are a sign of something more, and you’re going to hate me for this, but i agree with the doctor. any more infections and those things need to come out of you.”

Y/N didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. she knew deep down that surgery was a very real possibility. she just had to hope and pray this was the last infection.

her hopes and prayers were not answered, and after two more infections two months later, her surgery was scheduled for mid june, right around the time of panic. Y/N’s heart sank when the doctor told her that surgery was the next step. not only was she deathly afraid of what could happen to her during and after the surgery, she was devastated about not being able to compete in panic.

Y/N’s parents reluctantly agreed to the surgery, and the morning of, dodge drove her to the hospital. the only reason she was allowed to proceed with the surgery without a parent present was because she was 18. although dodge couldn’t come back into the pre-op room, he was there to send her off beforehand in the waiting room.

Y/N was beyond nervous for this surgery. since it was her first one, she didn’t know what to expect. it was the fear of the unknown for her.

“dodge?” she asked quietly while sitting in the waiting room.

he turned his body to look at her. “what’s up?”

“i’m scared.”

dodge sent her a sad look, and opened his arms to give Y/N a hug. she leaned in, never wanting to leave his safe embrace.

“i know you’re scared. but it’ll be over before you know it, i promise. you’ll be great.”

“what if i don’t make it out?”

he rubbed his hands on her arm. “don’t think like that, Y/N. you’re going to get through it, okay? you’re the strongest person i know,” he consoled. “i’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Y/N let a singular tear slip out of her eye. “i wish i didn’t have to do this.”

a door opened, and a nurse called her back. she sent dodge a terrified look, and dodge rested his hands on her cheeks.

“i love you,” he said quietly.

Y/N nodded, releasing the tension in her body under dodge’s touch. “i love you too.”

they let go of each other and she followed the nurse through the door.

from that moment on, everything was a bit of a blur that she couldn’t really remember. she faintly remembered changing into a hospital gown and getting an iv in her hand. she remembered getting wheeled into the operating room and the funny smell of the anesthesia that was placed over her face until she was out cold.

then, before she knew it, there was a bright light, and her eyes fluttered open. she came to, taking a moment to realize where she was at. her throat felt numb, and her mind felt dazed. when she looked around, there was a nurse by her side.

“w-where’s dodge?” she asked weakly, feeling a strain in her voice when she talked. dodge was on her mind when she went under, and he was on her mind when she woke up. she needed her comfort person by her side.

the nurse laughed. “good morning to you too. the surgery went well, everything went completely normal and we got those pesky tonsils of yours out,” she paused. “your boyfriend is still here, but he’s not allowed back here. you’ll see him when you get discharged.”

Y/N frowned. “he’s family, i-i want to see him.”

the nurse smiled sadly at her. “i know you do. but it’s the hospital’s rules, not mine.”

“can you make an exception?”

the nurse saw how she was pleading. she looked up at the machines Y/N was attached to, and thought about it. “i’ll make an exception, just this once. don’t tell anyone else i’m doing this.”

the nurse detached Y/N from the machines and wheeled her bed to another recovery room, where the doctor would meet with her and dodge would be able to see her.

the nurse left to go get dodge after the doctor came in.

“hi Y/N, how are you feeling?” he asked happily.

she paused. “not too bad right now.”

“that’s good. enjoy it while it lasts, as soon as that anesthesia wears off it’s going to be painful.”

she sighed, not excited for the immense pain in her near future.

after having a conversation with the doctor, he left, and dodge came into her room. the nurse excused herself to give the pair some privacy.

“hey sweetie, how are you doing?” he asked gently, bending down so his head was closer to hers. he reached his hand over and rubbed the top of her head carefully.

“my throat hurts a little bit, but i’m okay,” she stared deep into dodge’s bright blue eyes that were so full of care and admiration. her body softened under his glare. “i’m so happy to see you.”

dodge smiled wide. “i’m so happy to see you too. i told you you’d do great.”

not long later, the doctor came back in and discussed the daunting healing process with Y/N. she listened to every word, afraid for the painful two weeks she was to experience.

then, when the doctors thought she was ready, she was discharged and dodge pushed her wheelchair all the way out to his parked car. after getting to the car, he guided her into the front seat.

she took a long nap on the car ride back to her house. Y/N was sleeping off the anesthesia, and she realized she wasn’t going to feel as good when she woke up. the anesthesia was masking her pain.

she awoke to dodge gently rocking her shoulder back and forth.

“Y/N, are you awake?”

her eyes opened and she saw she was in her driveway. “now i am.”

dodge helped her out of the car, and with one arm around her waist, he helped her walk into the house. when she got to her bedroom, she quickly laid down and got underneath her covers.

“are you hungry at all?” dodge asked, getting a nod from Y/N in response.

“i’ll go get you some applesauce.”

a short while later, dodge came back with a cup of applesauce and a spoon. Y/N was thrilled to be able to get food in her stomach.

however, her joy didn’t last long. when she swallowed the applesauce, she felt like she was swallowing glass. dodge watched her grimace.

“everything alright?” he asked cautiously.

“that hurt so bad,” she said after she got it down.

dodge cringed. “really?”

Y/N nodded. “really.”

“well, you need to eat. finish that up, and i’ll get you your liquid ibuprofen to ease the pain.”

dodge left again, and Y/N tried her best to not groan every time she took a bite of applesauce. she wasn’t sure how she was going to survive the next two weeks like this.

after what felt like an eternity, she had finished her applesauce and dodge was back with a small cup of liquid ibuprofen. she took it like a shot, and scrunched her face up. she leaned back into her bed and dodge walked to her door.

“i’ll leave you to nap, you need your rest,” dodge started before closing the bedroom door behind him.

“wait, dodge,” Y/N said, her voice raspy. “please stay.”

dodge smiled. “okay, if you say so.”

dodge got into the bed next to her, and she immediately leaned into his body and rested her head on his chest. she felt she could finally relax when she had someone familiar by her side.

“i’ll be with you every day until you’re better. i hate seeing you like this,” dodge told her.

“i can’t have you do that, i’d feel so bad. it’s not fair for you to spend your summer trapped with me. and besides, you have panic coming up. just because i can’t be in panic anymore doesn’t mean you should slack off just to be with me. i won’t let you, dodge.”

“i’m not going to listen to you,” he started. “i love you, and i’ll go to the ends of the earth for you if it meant i could help you. just let me do this.”

she went silent, which was a sign that she wasn’t going to fight dodge’s suggestion. dodge began to speak again. “you know, you’re stronger than i am, i think i would have chickened out of a surgery like that,” dodge told her.

Y/N scoffed. “you’re dodge mason. you’re not afraid of anything.”

“that’s not entirely true. i lead people to believe that, but i have my own fears.”

Y/N smiled against his chest. “like what?”

“like… losing you.”

she blushed. “you’re not getting rid of me any time soon.”

dodge kissed the top of her head. “good.”

#mike faist #mike faist imagine #mike faist x reader #panic on prime #mike faist fanfiction #dodge mason imagine #dodge mason x reader #dodge mason

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bbcphile · 16 days

Text

Writing Patterns

List the first sentence of your last 10 AO3 works.

(I’ve also seen the “and the last sentence” variant, so I went ahead and did that.)

Thanks for the tag, @eirenical, @kingsandbastardz, and @momosandlemonsoda! (Sorry it took me so long to do this!)

Everything listed here is Horatio Hornblower fic, and includes canon era and my modern AU (canon era is all Horatio Hornblower/Archie Kennedy, and modern AU is Horatio Hornblower/Archie Kennedy/William Bush).

Also, if you go read any of them, mind the tags/trigger warnings on AO3! They're all about PTSD/trauma recovery in one way or other, which means they have a bunch of triggers. If you want more details before reading any of them, feel free to ask me!

And now, the examples:

Nunc Atque Semper

Opening line: Maria checked the clock on the bookshelf again.

Closing lines: Horatio’s eyes grew distant, and a faint, bitter hint of a smile twisted the corner of his lips. He sighed, his eyes fluttering closed. “Welcome to purgatory.

2. Taking Hands Against a Sea of Troubles

Opening lines: Archie halted in mid-stride in the centre of the crowded street and snapped his head around to stare at Horatio. “What do you mean, you’ve never been to Drury Lane?”

Closing line: But, as long as Archie was alive and breathing by his side, nothing else mattered.

3. Holding Fast

Opening Line: “Bush! What’s our status?”

Closing line: He let his eyes fall shut.

4. The Vital Importance of Doing Research

Opening Lines: Admiralty Office, February 4, 1809

Pursuant to an Act of Parliament, passed in the Twenty-fifth Year of His late Majesty’s Reign, this is to give Notice to those whom it may concern, that Information has been received at this Office, that the Galliot Maria, of Gibraltar, whereof George Heseltine was Master, (Owners’ Name not known), laden with Oranges, from Seville, and bound to London, was stranded in the Night of the--

Will blinked and rubbed his bleary eyes as he swallowed back a yawn. He’d be asleep in five minutes if he didn’t take a break.

Closing line: Thank goodness he’d grown up since then.

5. Ships and Swans

Opening line: “Are you sure about this, Horatio?”

Closing line: “Lead on. I’m right behind you.”

6. The Best Is Yet to Come

Opening Line: “I’m home! Happy anniversary, love!”

Closing line: Then again, he’d never been known for his imagination.

7. Relative Bearing

Opening line: Will’s phone pinged quietly in the pocket of his jeans.

Closing line: He’d just have to wait.

8. Harboured and Encompassed

Opening lines: “And when those patrons bring back their materials, make sure nothing’s damaged, mark the item as returned in the system, and give them back their ID. Have you got that?”

Closing line: But it was a start.

9. Turning Over the Sands of Time

Opening line: “Eight,” Archie murmured as the cane in Matthews’ hand struck its target again.

Closing line: They would survive, one day at a time, until the sand ran out.

10. Much Ado about Shakespeare: Love’s Labours Won

Opening line: Archie Kennedy closed his eyes, willing this time to be different.

Closing line: Horatio threw a stocking at him.

Bonus:

Opening line of MLC WIP: Li Lianhua crashed to his hands and knees on the ground as the last trickle of his borrowed qi abandoned him, the densely-packed sand doing nothing to cushion the blow.

Patterns: For opening lines, I definitely have a history of starting with dialogue that hints at the central issue the fic addresses, and I usually start either right when something has changed or with a character who has just reached the limit of what they can handle in a bad situation. For closing lines, I generally tend to use short sentences that are either punchlines if it’s a more comedic fic, reflections on time, change, or growth if it’s more serious (and usually in ways that are commenting on some central aspect of the POV’s character), and almost all of them are in some way about healing and finding comfort/learning to move on after terrible things, or in the more tragic ones, about the inability to move on.

Now the real question is, will I use this newfound knowledge to try to never use these patterns again to avoid being so predictable? Who knows! (Actually, when I realized I usually started with dialogue in 2018, I decided to stop starting with dialogue, soooooo, yeah. Realistically, expect something completely different in future fics, lol.)

Tagging @howdaretrashships, @nutcasewithaknife, @wuxia-vanlifer, @rose-tinted-vision, @xthelastknownsurvivorx, and @enbysaurus-rex (As always, no obligation to do it, and if you see it and want to do it, consider yourself tagged!)

#writing meme #first 10 lines #writing patterns

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e-dubbc11 · 2 years

Text

I’ll See You Again

Two of the pictures aren’t mine, they are courtesy of Pinterest/Google. The other two are pics of my dog.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F! Reader

Warnings: This is just SAD. Matt being supportive and caring and all the things that he does to comfort you. Euthanasia, seizure disorder mention

Word Count: 2749-ish

Summary: You’ve had your sweet little boy dog for 15 years, his quality of life has deteriorated and you’ve made the decision to have him put down.

A/N: So I wrote this as a kind of a way to process my grief. Some of you might know that I had to put my dog down last week and I cried a bunch of times trying to write this but I felt like I needed to do it. If I tagged you and you don’t feel like reading it because of the subject matter, I totally understand. And I’m sorry if this is bad, and written poorly, it really isn’t my best work. I just needed to get it out so maybe I could start to feel a little better.

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments are welcome and encouraged. 💕💕💕

“How old is he, sweetheart?” Matt asked you as he tilted his head and outstretched his arm to find the little ball of tri-color fur sleeping a couple feet from him on the couch. He managed to find one of Zeke’s floppy ears and commented on how soft it was.

You smiled as he did so, his thick calloused fingers gently scratched at your little guy’s ear while he picked his sleepy head off of the couch cushion and sniffed Matt’s hand. Zeke didn’t see or hear very well anymore so he relied heavily on his beagle nose more than ever now.

“He turned 15 this year. Remember his birthday was in February, Matty?” He smirked a little and nodded his head like you had jogged his memory when you mentioned February.

Matt had been in your life for the past two years which meant he had been in Zeke’s life for that long also.

The breed was prone to seizures which you didn’t find out about until after you got him. When Zeke was around 18 months old, he had his first seizure, you had no idea what was going on, the panting, the drooling, his eyes rolling back into his head, and it all scared you to death.

Since then, he’s been on a couple different medications to keep his seizures under control, just recently the vet had added two more meds to his daily routine, and it was just getting to be too much for you.

Zeke had been by your side when you first met Matt. You were waiting for the light to change to “walk.” Staring straight ahead, you felt his tail brush back and forth over your shoe and you looked down to see why he was wagging his tail so quickly.

He was a very friendly dog but he was shy and normally not too fond of men, although you didn’t know why, so you were very surprised to see him wagging his tail and looking up at this handsome stranger wearing dark red glasses, a nice suit, and carrying a white cane.

“Funny, he usually doesn’t like men very much. Zeke, no! Don’t paw at his pants like that! I’m sorry, he usually doesn’t do things like that. He must like you. Would you like a guide to help you cross?” You asked him.

That would be the first time Matt smirked at you, the attraction to him was amplified at the sight of his dimple. “Well I like the sound of his owner’s voice. And yes, a guide would be great, thank you.” You traded places with Zeke so he was on your left and Matt took your arm as the light changed to “walk.”

As the small crowd of people dispersed, they left you and Matt standing at the other side of the street alone with Zeke in between the two of you. “Thank you again for being my guide, uh I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” He smiled again.

Oh he knew exactly what he was doing. “My name?” His smile and handsome face were such a distraction. “Oh it’s y/n. It’s nice to meet youuuuu?”

Matt held out his other hand that wasn’t holding his cane to shake yours. “Matt…Matt Murdock.”

And that was how you and Zeke met Matt Murdock.

Zeke was also with you when the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen scared off a mugger who attempted to take your purse one night. He came up behind you and tried to take it off of your shoulder, Zeke started to bark, and you tried as hard as you could to hold on to your bag.

And suddenly there he was, a figure dressed in all black with a mask over his eyes, pulled the mugger off of you as your purse fell to the ground. After the thief took off running, the Devil asked “Are you alright?” His voice was low and gravelly.

“Yes, I’m alright. Thank you.” Your little four legged companion started to wag his tail, whine profusely, and tried to walk towards the man who rescued you but he ran out of leash. “What is it, buddy?” Zeke knew who the Devil actually was but before you could question who saved you from the mugger, he was gone.

Matt might have been able to hide things from you but he couldn’t hide them from Zeke who followed his beagle nose to Matt’s bedroom and brought you his black mask while you were sitting with Matt on his couch one night. He dropped the mask at your feet, wagging his tail and he looked like he was smiling. It was almost as if he was proud of himself, like “look mom, look what I found!”

“Matty, what is this? Why do you have—oh my god. You’re—you’re Daredevil and Zeke knew it was you! The guy that tried to take my purse—YOU rescued me. That’s why he was wagging his tail at you!” You exclaimed.

Matt extended his arm, rubbed Zeke’s velvety ear, and took his mask back. “You know what they say about snitches, Zeke.” Your lovable pup sniffed Matt and licked the tip of his nose while wagging his tail excitedly.

There were also quite a few pictures on your phone of Matt napping with Zeke. “I think you’re trying to take my dog away from me, Murdock.” The corners of your mouth turned up and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“He’s like a little weighted blanket, sweetheart. He really does help me sleep.” He seemed surprised.

“Zeke’s good for that. Some of the best sleep I’ve ever had is when he falls asleep on top of me.” Normally, Matt wasn’t a huge fan of dogs but he really loved yours. Zeke was friendly, he loved to cuddle and he hardly ever barked so Matt didn’t have to worry about it being too noisy for him.

The decline had happened rapidly, one minute Zeke was acting like a puppy and the next he needed help going up and down the stairs to the apartment, he was less and less interested in eating, and he had lost some weight. He had to visit the vet more and more and you felt his quality of life was decreasing by the day.

Because Matt’s senses were heightened, he knew Zeke wasn’t well and he didn’t know how to bring it up without you getting upset but he wanted to support you. He came with you to every vet appointment, took time away from work to be with you even though you told him he didn’t have to. “I know how much you love him sweetheart and I love you so I’m going to be there for you whatever you want to do.”

Matt knew he couldn’t make that decision for you, he wished he could take away all your pain and sadness but he did his best. He was there to hold you whenever you needed it, he was there to give you extra hugs, extra kisses, extra “I love you’s”, whatever you needed from him, he gave you.

At every appointment, the vet would listen to Zeke’s heart, Matt didn’t need a stethoscope to know the dog’s heartbeat was slow, almost non-existent. On a particular visit, the vet had said that it would be nice if pets just went quietly in their sleep but most of the time, that doesn’t happen and it had taken you a couple more months and a handful of more vet visits to make the decision to finally put him down.

Matt tried to reassure you that you were doing the right thing, that you gave him a good life for 15 years and he won’t be in pain anymore. “I know it doesn’t make it hurt any less, angel. But his little heart is out of gas but what little he has left, he saves for you. I can hear it, he tries hard every day just for you.”

The tears streamed down your cheeks, you tried to catch them before they fell but there were just too many, Matt was right. Your poor little man was just old and tired, it was time.

Matt made the phone call to the vet for you because you wouldn’t be able to make it through that phone call without sobbing. “Sweetheart, they want to know if you want ashes or not.”

The tears stung the back of your eyes. “Oh, uh yes please. Matty tell them I want his ashes.”

He took his hand away from his phone. “Yes, she would like his ashes please. Thank you, I’ll let her know.” He ended the call and sat down on the couch where you were sitting with Zeke asleep on your lap. “Ok, his appointment is next Wednesday at 4.”

The words were difficult to get out. “Only a week?”

“I guess so, angel. Come here.” He opened his arms to welcome you into his embrace and held you tighter than he probably ever has, kissing your forehead, and trying to reassure you that it’s going to be alright. “I will be there to help you through this, you don’t have to do this alone. I love you.”

What have you done to deserve such a sweet man? He didn’t have to do any of that. He didn’t have to make the phone call to the vet, he didn’t have to agree to come with you to any of Zeke’s appointments and he certainly didn’t have to be there with you when they put him to sleep.

“I love you too, Matty. Thank you…for everything.”

The next seven days were filled with extra everything for Zeke. He got extra walks, extra treats, extra cuddles and kisses until the day you had dreaded finally arrived. His last day, he had bacon for breakfast, he had a nice long walk that he almost didn’t make it all the way through because he was so tired at the end, and Matt made him a tuna steak for his last meal.

It reminded you of the time Matt made himself a tuna steak, you were out on an errand and left him and Zeke alone together. He briefly walked away from his tuna steak to retrieve a fork but it was too late, he could hear Zeke licking the plate clean.

“Well, maybe next time don’t leave your tuna unattended.” You told Matt as he sat sulking on the couch.

So Matt made a tuna steak, just for Zeke.

The ride to the vet’s office was quiet and you probably set a new record for quick glances to the back seat to check on him. Zeke tried to get comfortable but it was difficult, and it had been difficult for some time. He’d keep you awake at night, pacing around because he just couldn’t get in a comfortable position to lay down. Matt reached over to put his hand on your leg to offer a little comfort, to let you know he was there for you.

You let Zeke linger a little longer outside so he could take in all the scents he picked up along the way, because it would be the last time he would smell the grass around the trees, or the flowers in the pots, or all the other animals that walked into the office that day.

“He’s happy, sweetheart. His little heart is weak but I can tell he is very happy, he loves you.” Matt squeezed your other hand that wasn’t holding the leash as you lead Zeke inside and into the exam room where there was a soft looking blanket on the floor.

As you sat in the exam room, listening to the vet explain the procedure, Matt did what he could to ease your pain even if it was just a little bit. He took your hand in his and held it tightly while you watched through tears as your sweet little boy dog was first given a sedative to make him sleepy.

Once that took effect, the tech made him comfortable on the makeshift bed on the floor as you waited for the vet to come in to give him his final doses.

Crouched on the floor, you and Matt took turns stroking Zeke’s soft ears and talking to him even though he couldn’t hear very well anymore, telling him “it’s ok” and “I love you.” After taking a few more minutes to say goodbye, you were ready for the vet to give him his final doses.

Matt could tell when Zeke’s heart stopped, you knew it to by the way his breath hitched but you could tell he was trying to be strong for you.

“Take as much time as you need to, we’ll be waiting outside when you’re ready.” The vet said as they closed the door and left you and Matt alone to say goodbye.

“He’s gone, Matty. He’s gone.” You said through sobs while peppering little kisses all over Zeke’s face and nose. You couldn’t believe he was gone and Matt quietly held you and stroked your hair as you cried into his shoulder.

After a few minutes of silence aside from your crying, Matt finally spoke. “We don’t have to go until you’re ready to. They can wait.”

Giving him one last kiss goodbye, you were finally ready to leave. The vet said they would call in a couple of weeks when his ashes were ready to be picked up and you and Matt drove home.

Everything of Zeke’s was still around your apartment, his food and water dishes, the little bed that he liked to take naps in while you put your makeup on in the morning, he always had to be in the same room you were, you even hung up his leash and collar because you didn’t know what else to do with it.

“Can I do anything for you, sweetheart? Anything at all?” Matt asked warmly.

You just stared at the spot on the couch that Zeke loved to sleep on, it also happened to be Matt’s spot on the couch. “I just want you to hold me, Matty. Please?”

“I can do that.” Matt walked over to the couch and just out of habit, reached down to rub his spot on the couch as if Zeke might be there for him to move away but he wasn’t. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—it’s just a habit. He loved this spot.” Matt had taken off his glasses and set them down on the coffee table, you could see his eyes were wet with tears. “That’s going to be a tough habit to break, I always had to check to see if he was there before I sat down.”

You smiled a little. “He did love your spot. Thank you for everything, Matt. I don’t think I could have done this alone.”

Matt leaned in close to kiss you on the forehead. “I’ll always be here for you, y/n. And I’ll always be grateful to Zeke for scratching at my pant leg that day.”

You started to tear up again. “Maybe he was looking out for me.”

Matt knew that you needed comfort because for the past 15 years, Zeke was the one thing that gave you comfort and unconditional love any time you needed it but he was gone now.

“Maybe he was, sweetheart. Maybe he was.” He said with a slight smile.

Matt quietly held you and let you cry, his voice was so calm and soothing, he listened as you recalled some stories about Zeke that you thought Matt would like or ones he hadn’t heard before and even if you had mentioned them before, he didn’t say so because through the tears, they still made you smile.

After you fell asleep in his arms, Matt continued to stroke your hair, and draw circles on your soft skin. He didn’t have the heart to move you or wake you so he gently laid you across the couch, and covered you with a blanket, while he moved over to a chair close by.

Before Matt drifted off to sleep, you thought you faintly heard him whisper “It will be a little better tomorrow, angel. Goodnight.”

The Devil slowly closed his eyes and tuned out all of the commotion of Hell’s Kitchen. His city will have to do without him for one night, the most important person that needed his protection was asleep next to him. Matt wanted to be there to pick up the pieces, to make sure you know that there is someone else in your life that will comfort you and show you unconditional love, until the day he dies. He hasn’t told you his plan yet…but he will. He will.

Tag List: @freshabogados @skvatnavle @phoebe-danvers @moonlarking @shedaresthedevil @mindidjarin @matt-erialgirl @nelson-et-murdock @elgrandeavocados @carters-things @myguiltypleasures21 @saintmurd0ck @munsonownsmyass

Others that might enjoy: @1800-fight-me @sobachka-korol @mattmurdockspainkink @wint3r-h3art @mattmurdocksscars @itwasthereaminuteago @hellskitchenswhore

Please please tell me if you’d like to be added or removed from either list and thank you again for reading! 💕

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #charlie cox

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vickyspring · 2 years

Text

"Come on, hug him/her, since you missed him/her badly"

Note: this is my first time writing a fic, so im sorry if there will be some non sense scenes here.

i’m still trying to know big words so I can improve if you please don’t mind can you put some tips under the comment section? thank you!

Enjoy reading.

February, 12, 1985

Dear Eddie,

I hope you still remember me, it’s y/n your childhood bestfriend. how are you doing lately? I do hope you got your hair longer than before. You looked like a coconut when we we’re in middle school. just joking you looked good in buzzed hair.

Well, did anything happened to you and chrissy cunningham? Bet you still want to date her.

Anyways me and my mom will come back to hawkins because of my dad. well, mom found out that dad was cheating on her with some girl in california. So they decided to get divorced but im thankful that they did. Dad was a total jerk lol.

My mom said that I can live with you once we get to hawkins. its okay if you don’t want to, i love you. just as a friend lol i don’t want to date a dumbass like you lol.

With love, y/n a.k.a peaches.

Eddie received your letter 1 week later. He was confused because he doesnt remember anyone named y/n, he quickly got into his trailer and ripped open the letter then accidentally ripping the letter to half. while reading the letter he remembered who she/he was. he chuckles while reading the letter because he didn’t have feelings for chrissy anymore and he was waiting for you to comeback after 3 years. he missed you. he wants to hug you, wants to play guitar with you, and he definitely liked the idea of you living with him.

Monday comes and you’re finally going back to hawkins. you felt excited but sad by the fact that eddie and chrissy could be a couple by now. You liked eddie for years and just can’t confess to him because you’re scared that you’ll just break your friendship with him and he’ll never talk to you or sit with you in lunch again after that. so you just kept your feelings by yourself.

Eddie is telling the whole club that you’re coming home but he doesn’t know what day. everyone's excited to see you, even jeff is excited.

“Hey eddie, you’re you still into him/her. right?” Gareth asks.

“What? no. what the fuck are you even talking about?” says eddie.

“Didn’t you say that you really liked her since you first met?” gareth chuckles.

“Yeah, didn’t you say that last 2 years ago?” jeff asks. eddie just sat there, silent because he can’t deny the fact that he was really into you years ago.

“looks like our leader still likes his peaches” gareth laughs.

You arrived home seeing eddie waiting for you with a flower bouquet beside the porch he smiled while watching you get off the car.

“How are you peaches?” Says eddie

“pretty good. well, how about you and chri-” eddie stops you to pull you in for a hug. He hugged you so bad that you almost couldn't breathe. The bouquet was filled with your favourite flower, tulips. and there was a small letter under the flowers.

"I missed you. peaches." was written on it

"I missed you too, eddie. I really did." you chuckle.

"uhm, about the living with me thing its fine with me by the way, you can live with me." says eddie.

"oh, okay thank you. i'll just fix my things and tell mom that its okay for me to live with you" you tell him with a smile.

"see you at school tomorrow. peaches." eddie says, with a smile.

"see you, eddie." eddie leaves really happy because you're back. He finally has someone to rant with, to play guitar with, and live with.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie my beloved #stranger things #hellfire club #hawkins #fanfic #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #fiction #writers on tumblr #writing #eddie stranger things

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spookyboywhump · 7 months

Note

How would you recommend someone who's been here awhile as a whump blogger get more... engagement? I will post ask games and get virtually no ask or such. :( when I first started I had crazy engagement but now it's just gone. Makes me feel a little bad like I did something wrong? Aaa I'm sorry xx

Ahahaa anon this is an interesting ask to get at an interesting time. I’m going to do my best to help and give advice with what I’ve been wanting to try out as this is something that I have been thinking about a lot lately as well. I’m going to put this below a cut as I often feel. Weird talking about things regarding engagement and I understand some people don’t like those conversations but y know it is what it is

Let me start off with, I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong friend! I have noticed engagement has gone down a lot lately, not just in myself but in blogs that I follow that were VERY active and got lots of engagement back when they first started posting, and while they’re still very active and absolutely fantastic and talented writers, they still aren’t getting the attention they used to. I want to add a quick disclaimer that I understand engagement and attention is not everything, that we are supposed to create for ourselves, we are not simply content machines here to please an audience but also. When you go from having constant engagement with your work to what feels like none, it does feel a little discouraging, if not a lot discouraging and leave you wondering what changed. I think that’s normal. While we should create with ourselves in mind, it’s also just human nature to want to connect and interact with others who also enjoy our creations!

Onto the next thing, I have a few theories as to why engagement in general may have gone down. Obviously, I don’t know who you are or what your specific situation is so these may not apply! But they are things I think about when I think about this

Personally, I joined as a whump blog in 2019 and gained a bit of a following RIGHT before Covid lockdowns. Around this time a lot of people were home, a lot of people had way more time to write, to read, to interact with each other, I recall this time as being very active for everybody, between the Whump community online and whump discord servers, nobody had anywhere to go or anything else to do so we were all online indulging in what may have been a new hobby and new and exciting space for some people.

Following that, Covid lockdowns ended. People went back to work, back to school, and suddenly a lot of us just. Can’t be as active as we used to. This community seems to be full of neurodivergent people, I imagine a lot of us are struggling to balance school/work, household responsibilities, and our hobbies and things like writing or keeping up with our favorite series may fall to the side unfortunately. People graduated high school, started college, started jobs, these will take up a lot of time so I’m not really surprised to see a decrease in general activity.

So just like those things mean a lot less people are likely to be active as much as they used to, it may also mean you aren’t as active as you used to be. Again, I don’t know your situation personally, but I went back to work in February of 2021 and since then I have written. Less and less. It’s actually kind of depressing when I see time stamps on things and realize how little I wrote at all in 2022 because work was such a drain on me and even now, I struggle to have the time, energy, and inspiration all at the same time to write when I have other things that need to be done as well. My own engagement has gone down significantly since when I first started, so I understand exactly what your talking about, I post about my oc’s constantly but I struggle to really write and it’s very rare to get asks about them the way that I used to (that’s not to say it never happens and I love seeing the ones I do get in my inbox but I have noticed a change that I don’t think is exactly significant to just myself)

(Split this up cuz it was too long for one lmao) I mostly assume it’s due to less people being active as per the reasons mentioned above, there are names I used to see often that have since disappeared and I think about often, but also I know it’s partly on me because I just. Don’t write as much as I used to. People engaged when I had writing for them to engage with. I don’t have that very often any more so they don’t have anything to work with. That’s understandable. I often find myself getting in a mood where I’ve convinced myself everyone has lost interest and if I’m being completely honest that poll I posted was to see if something I was wondering about was correct because I have always noticed a slight uptick in asks or requests regarding one OC but unfortunately I still write primarily for myself and that one OC just. Isn’t the one I want to focus on all the time and I worried I was failing a lot of people by focusing on what I liked.

Anyways that’s all to say. I understand what you mean and this has also been on my mind a lot lately. But I’ve also been thinking about what to do about it.

For one thing, for the same reasons I don’t write as much as I used to, I also don’t read as much as I used to, I miss connecting with other people over THEIR work as well. That doesn’t always mean they’ll be into my stuff, they don’t have to be! I love that they’re creating at all and I want to enjoy it and engage with them over their creations as well! Of course I understand we shouldn’t be interacting just in the hopes it’ll draw attention to ourselves, but it’s also the natural outcome of things. If we aren’t able to reach out to others, they likely won’t reach out to us or look into what we’re doing. There’s quite a few of us, it’s easy to miss some really awesome blogs and really awesome work just because we end up in our own little circles.

Posting your writing or art or whatever it may be regularly, especially being sure to put it in the Whump community tags allows for more people to keep up with it or new people to find and support you and potentially garner new interest if you feel like people have lost interest in what you make. Personally, my goal with doing whumptober is to start writing and posting somewhat regularly again, in a way that more and new people may see it. This is also something I need to fix up but having a good master list is great for people who are new and want to catch up!

And not to sound like hopelessly optimistic but like. Don’t give up. And focus on creating with yourself in mind. You didn’t do something wrong, things have just changed, I forgot to mention this above as it just came to me but I remembered tumblr started doing that thing where you need an account to send anon asks which will have axed a lot of people who were lurking without an account and didn’t want to make one. I know it feels disheartening and discouraging because we want people to enjoy our work but the only way to get that is to keep working. Your work still has value even if people aren’t engaging the way they used to and I’m sure that it’s great! The people who love it the same as you do will find it I’m sure, and I’m wishing you the best of luck!

#I’m sorry anon I hope that this can be of some assistance #I think there are some things we can do to help the situation and other things are just kind of #how things are given everything going on y know #I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong and I know this can be very disheartening #I’ve talked about it on my other blog some but I often worry people have just. completely lost interest #but then I’m like. no. those people are still here. and /I/ haven’t lost interest. so even if everyone is sick of me #I will continue posting because it makes me happy #do what makes you happy friend and I know we can’t control others actions #but I think the people who share our interests will find us #if we put ourselves out there enough #anonymous

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